Chapter 6 May We Part Forever. Andra's pupils seemed to narrow into vertical slits...

Eleanor reached out and gently touched Andra's cheek.

She stroked him as she gazed at her long-lost lover. Sunlight streamed into the valley, casting a golden glow on Andra's handsome features, making even the beads of sweat on his face glisten.

Today she was only wearing light armor, with an old cloak over the leather armor, the edges of which were stained with some unknown blood.

Andra's thick hair was sticky with sweat, and her gloves and boots were covered in mud and grime. She looked utterly disheveled, yet—she was Andra.

Eleanor's fingertips trembled slightly as she touched her cheek: It's so nice—every time I see your eyes, my reason vanishes.

"What's wrong? My lovely Angie." The valiant king was clearly aware of his charm. She blinked, gently put her arm around Eleanor's shoulder, and placed a light kiss on her lover's eyelid.

Her actions were open and joyful, and anyone could feel the unparalleled pampering and love she exuded, let alone the person being held in her arms.

The kiss seemed to possess a mysterious magic; Andra's kiss brushed across her cheek and landed between her lover's lips.

Eleanor's mind went blank, almost forgetting all the chaos.

But after the long and forceful kiss ended, their lips slowly parted... and she saw Andra's smiling face.

Confident, joyful—ah, you're so pleased with yourself!

Eleanor bit her lip, a tear welling up in her eye.

"Hmm?" Andra nuzzled her stunned lover's cheek and whispered softly in her ear, "Don't be angry with me anymore, my eternal princess - if your loyal servant has done something wrong, please let the great Angel issue a decree."

She was smiling.

Eleanor heard the tenderness in Andra's smile: she knew she would be forgiven, and everyone thought so.

Yes, I've forgiven her time and time again, so what difference does one more time make?

Eleanor had so much to say, but she simply pressed her face against her lover's and asked with a sigh, "Andra, this time you're sending troops... to attack Norlanna, aren't you?"

She raised her hand, pressed her fingertips to Andra's lips as she tried to speak, and gently stroked them. "It must have been hard for you to get here from the battlefield in just half a month."

Andra's eyes flickered, and finally, an uneasy look appeared on his face.

It's more than just hard work!

As a monarch and military leader, she decisively chose to travel light after the information was leaked. She led her royal guards to rotate horses continuously, and only managed to arrive this morning. She wrote in her book that she "did not sleep or rest".

Such affectionate behavior is enough to move even the coldest heart, but why is Eleanor, who is always gentle, unmoved? When has she ever looked at her, at her lover who is out working under the stars and moon, with such eyes?

Even Andra began to feel uneasy, and she couldn't help but make a light excuse for herself: "Darling, my goal this time is indeed Nolana. It's just for unification... We've talked before, there's no insurmountable barrier between the countries, the flat terrain will eventually push them to form a unified nation."

"Yes, I did say that."

Eleanor tapped her lips with her finger, interrupting her lover's narration. She looked at Andra with icy eyes: "And what about my sister? They say you—tortured her."

Hmm.

Andra frowned, his expression sharp.

A few seconds later, she relaxed her tightly pursed lips and retorted, "Who gave you this information? It's too biased. I have no reason to torture and kill the King of Norlana, much less to desecrate his corpse."

War is never child's play; the victor has the right to deal with the loser.

But executing and torturing the leader of the losing side clearly represents different levels of signals, and Andra's rebuttal is reasonable: as a wise ruler, she has no need to overcomplicate things.

Eleanor did not explain her source.

So many years have passed, and they have many informants around each other.

These informants selectively relayed messages between the emperor and empress, an act that caused little pressure: to outsiders, Andra and Eleanor were practically two sides of the same coin, and the transmission of information was merely a matter of timing, not betrayal.

Eleanor pieced together what had happened to her second sister from explicit and implicit clues from different sources.

She looked directly into Andra's eyes and said, "Is that so? I heard that you threw your sister to the soldiers to vent your anger, letting them dismember her and then discard her at will, and finally found someone else's corpse to bury as the King of Norlana."

As the sun rose higher, sweat trickled down Andra's neck, down his collarbone, and into his inner lining.

She hesitated for a few seconds, then shrugged and slowly explained, "Well, their story wasn't entirely complete. In fact, by the time we stormed in... your sister with the other bloodline had already committed suicide by poison. Our losses during the siege were quite heavy, so the captain at the time suggested..."

At this point, Andra patted Eleanor's back gently, as if comforting a child, and said, "Don't worry, I ultimately refused her request. It wasn't your sister who was dismembered, it was Manhani. You know, there's nothing to regret about that corrupt official."

As Andra spoke, Eleanor stared intently into her eyes: embarrassed, trying to appear calm, and with a strange confidence that seemed to creep in as she spoke.

Ha. Eleanor almost burst out laughing.

Someone else's body? Yes, if she confronted anyone else, they would all tell her: Anya is right, the dismembered body belonged to someone else, and your sister's body has been properly buried in the Nolana Royal Mausoleum.

Unfortunately, Andra's expression said it all.

As a monarch, she had no need to apologize for any lies or actions. But only when facing her queen would her eyes still flicker with the same light as when she was a child.

This is adorable; it was once part of Andra's cuteness.

During their teenage years, whenever Andra did something wrong, she would put on a pitiful expression like a puppy, holding a gift she had made or found herself, and carefully try to please her little princess.

Andra had a strong sense of pride, and they did have a few very heated arguments over the years.

Eleanor gazed at her lover, recalling their distant youth: when Andra had lived in his territory, the two had clashed fiercely over stress and trivial matters.

"Then you can leave!" The little princess paced back and forth in the room, turning around and screaming at Andra.

She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, but how could the noble little princess be willing to apologize? She just bit her lip and refused to apologize.

Andra's eyes reddened, and she burst through the door...

Eleanor blinked and saw, through her lover's current body, the girl who had stormed out and then rushed back.

Don't leave me, Andra.

As I leaned against the doorframe, I so wanted to shout those words to you: "Thank goodness you came back so quickly."

She not only ran back, but also held a delicate leather whip in her hand.

The girl rushed over, knelt on one knee, gracefully removed her cloak to reveal her shoulder, and then handed her the whip.

Andra tilted her head back, her eyes flashing with stubbornness. "Fine, I was wrong. I don't want to see you give me that look! Hit me until you're satisfied, then we'll talk things over!"

Even such humble words sound so serious and arrogant coming from you, Andra.

"Ha, ha, ha ha ha!" Eleanor laughed until tears streamed down her face, and all her past memories vanished.

She sniffed and said calmly, "Don't lie to me, Andra. You promised me, time and time again."

"..." Andra's face tightened, and his childlike innocence was completely dispelled by the biting cold.

She seemed to bite her lip, then uttered fluent words: "Yes, Your Highness. The truth is—I do need her corpse to quell the soldiers' discontent."

Andra called out the affectionate name she used to use for the little princess, her tone becoming increasingly sincere: "My love, your sister with the alien bloodline has really done a lot of disgusting things, both on and off the battlefield. If it weren't for her, we could have saved so many lives. I know what we did was very irrational, but we really didn't mean to insult the Nolana royal family at all - once you've recovered, you can go back and rule your homeland again."

She raised her hands and placed them on Eleanor's shoulders at the right moment, her eyes focused and warm.

Sisters of different bloodlines.

Andra knew, of course, that Eleanor and Princess Ophelia had a rather uneventful relationship, so he repeatedly emphasized that they were not children of the same queen.

She solemnly declared with these words: Our love has nothing to do with Nolana, I still respect you, and you will always be my most cherished queen.

Her lover's serious and pained gaze reminded Eleanor of decades ago—the day Andra begged her to accept more princesses.

“I need children, more than one.” Her strong lover held her frail body tightly, whispering painfully in her ear, “I must win over those families as quickly as possible, give them a child, only then can I directly…”

"I know."

I know, Andra.

At that time, Eleanor chose to accept it "calmly": the strong in this world were far stronger than the strong on Earth. Even though she had never heard of any exaggerated magic, the outstanding heroes could easily defeat dozens of ordinary people.

Since the strong always get stronger, and the country's system was a combination of slavery and feudalism, it would be difficult for Andra to form a powerful and stable royal family if he did not marry into the major noble families and have a sufficient number of children.

If a family has no heir for a long period of time, even the most loyal subjects will seek a way out.

How could Eleanor bear to let her lover shed tears and take risks?

So she agreed, convincing herself with the long history and real-world experiences of Earth, and wholeheartedly supporting Andra's great dream.

But Andra—I have my own dreams too.

She released her hand and gently pushed Andra's shoulder, but he didn't move away.

Eleanor sighed and said gently, "Okay, I understand. You can go back now, I still need to continue climbing."

"Okay, uh?" Andra smiled at first, then widened her eyes in disbelief and hugged her lover tightly.

"Why? Even without Norlana, no one can shake your position! Even if I go mad, no one will allow me to hurt you... Eleanor, my princess, my beloved! Please, don't worry about these rumors..."

Andra pleaded with a heartbroken expression, but Eleanor's eyes remained calm and unwavering.

The wind ruffled their hair, and the tall king bowed his head to his lover, softening his voice: "I just got back, I'm so tired. My lord, it's too dangerous for you to climb the mountain alone, let's go back first. If you want to come again in the future, I'll carry you up, okay?"

Andra frowned slightly, her eyes drooping pitifully, beads of sweat dripping down her neck, the sunlight emanating a reassuring scent.

Eleanor swayed in a daze, then realized with horror that her body was leaning into Andra's arms, this dependent shrinking seemed to be her instinct.

No, no... Andra is lying! If you leave Mount Eros with her, you'll never be able to come back!

She looked up, her dazzling golden eyes shining through, and said from the bottom of her heart, "Andra, let's get a divorce."

Tears streamed down Eleanor's face as Andra raised an eyebrow, her pitiful gaze instantly turning cold.

"......"

She breathed silently for a few seconds, then smiled and took Eleanor's right hand: "Stop being stubborn. Come on, let's go home."

Eleanor pulled her wrist back, shaking her head as she did so. "I'm not angry... I really'm not angry right now. Please, I beg you, please let me go."

Her voice was full of exhaustion, and anyone could hear the despair in it.

However, Andra simply increased the force of his drag, easily pulling his wife over, and all the tenderness he had just shown vanished like a dream.

The person who would softly apologize and call out "Your Highness" is gone; only Andra remains—the decisive Anya.

“Don’t be willful, Eleanor. The people of Hertuya and Norlanna need you.” She dragged her wife into the forest, pointing to the blinding sun as they walked: “I swear—we will have a true heir within five years, your own daughter, who will inherit the whole of Hertuya.”

This was Andra's final answer, a decision that could not be changed.

Eleanor took a deep breath, pulled the hairpin from her temple with her left hand, and stabbed it fiercely into Andra's back!

A sharp, crackling sound emanated from the air currents around them.

The sound of wind breaking had barely begun when Andra turned around and easily grabbed Eleanor's wrist.

For a fleeting moment, her golden eyes were sharp, but when they saw Eleanor's face clearly, the icy coldness dissipated, and they became gentle and soft.

"Stop fooling around." Like a shepherd teasing a puppy or lamb, she snatched the hairpin from Eleanor's hand and tossed it into the bushes. Then she gathered her lover's hair and vigorously rubbed his face.

“Andra,” Eleanor looked up eagerly. A finger fell from above and gently touched her lips.

“I said—stop fooling around, my noble Angel.” Andra’s pupils seemed to be vertical lines, cutting through the sun and the future.

“…” Eleanor moved her lips, the color draining from her cheeks, and finally a weak smile appeared.

"Then, let's go back."

She opened her arms to her king, her ruler, and gave him the smile she had known since her youth: "Carry me."

Andra smiled too, the storm dissipating. Her little princess had always loved to be pampered since she was little.

She loved her pitiful appearance the most, and she would always be moved by it.

"Alright, I'll carry you on my back, Your Highness." She turned around gracefully, a smile still lingering on her lips.

Drip. A raindrop lands in the corner of my eye.

Is it raining? Eleanor will get sick. Andra instinctively pulled her cloak tighter and turned around.

A splash of bright red fell softly onto her face, like a gentle, drizzling red rain.

The jewel-encrusted dagger trembled slightly in the spring, and crimson water gushed from his lover's mouth—

"Eleanor—"

Her golden-red eyes instantly turned bloodshot as she lunged at her falling lover, pulling his pale yet crimson body into her arms.

Farewell, Andra.

Eleanor longed to raise her hand to wipe away the raindrops that kept falling from her lover's eyes, but her consciousness was slowly rising.

How wonderful... is the weather.

Amidst the deafening roar, she rolled over to look at the vast sky, her pupils gradually losing focus.

A note from the author:

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