We waited until the boys went to bed. The sun had been down for hours and now tiny diamonds dotted the sky.

Eliza and I had refused to talk about had happened back at the brothel. The almost rape and what exactly I could do about it. But for now, tonight was nothing to do with that.

"So, hot tub or pool first?" Eliza asked, sounding a lot more chirpy than she should be.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I nuzzled my nose into her cheek, "hot tub. Always the hot tub."

She giggled like a nervous school girl, nudging me in the side. Untangling herself from my grip, she walked along the edge of the pool carrying two wine glasses. My eyes automatically went to her round ass, that was covered by lime green bikini bottoms. The reflection of the water danced along her feet and legs, causing my insides to turn with want. My feet began to walk, following her around to the hot tub with the bottle of wine in my hand.

Flicking her fingers on the control panel, she caused the water to bubble, setting off the jets. I chuckled at her as she settled down in the water, a wave of fulfilment washing over her face. Stepping into the water myself, I felt the vibration from the jets spiking up my leg. I nestled in next to her, popping the top off the wine.

Eliza giggled at me, as I poured the red liquid into the wine glasses.

"To us," I toasted, handing her a glass, "for making it through a year together."

She giggled at that, shaking her head, "and to surviving for as long as we have."

I chuckled, taking a sip of the sweet goodness.

"Don't think many couples can say that, can they?" She joked, with a small giggle.

"No, not at all," I laughed with her, feeling my body begin to relax in the hot water.

My earlier conversation with Mrs Phillips began to dawn on me as Eliza and I became silent. I felt the urge to hold back, to forget the thoughts and never think of them. But slowly, I was learning to lean on her in my times of confusion. And I definitely was confused.

"I talked to Mrs Phillips today," I started, choosing to stare at the bubbling water as Eliza took another sip of her wine, "About my mother."

My eyes look to her to catch her reaction. Her eyes doubled in size as her features were covered in shock. I guess it would be a surprise. Since our first wedding, I had only ever mentioned my mother once or twice with her and never had I brought her up in the conversation. She was part of my life I had chosen never to think of and now that the band-aid had been ripped off, I found I couldn't think of anything else.

"What did she say?" Eliza asked in a hurry, immediately taking the opportunity to touch my arm for comfort.

I shrugged, not knowing a way to relay the information I had gained, "I wanted to know why Drago killed her. Even to this day, I hadn't known that."

Eliza nodded as her eyes seemed to show an understanding. The same wondering that had plagued her most of her life.

"She said Drago told my mother about his plans for New York and when she began to work against him, he shot her in her office," I told her, surprised by the little emotion in my voice.

For once, I was surprised. I was speaking about the death of my mother and yet, I sounded like I was talking about the weather. How did I get like this? How can I speak of such matters like they had no meaning to me at all?

"Patrick –,"

"I asked her if Oscar knew," I buttered in before I could feel her pity, ignoring the anger in my voice as I spoke of him, "I can't believe that he never knew."

"Patrick, Oscar and Drago were friends back then. I doubt Oscar could even think of the possibility that a friend could kill his wife," Eliza tried to reassure me, making my determination to believe the worst stronger.

Why must she always see the best in people? It was a trait I loved and hated.

She didn't understand. If my father was stupid enough not to consider the possibility of a friend's betrayal, then he became the biggest hypercritic, living and dead. It made our arguments over who I kept closest to me, pointless. It made his lectures on my dependence on my inner circle, futile. It meant, that he had done exactly what he had been telling me never to do my entire life. Don't trust anyone.

"You know what my father always told me? Don't trust anyone," I told her, making her face drop, "Not your friends, your busy partners, not even the people you let into your bed. How can you believe that he didn't know?"

She opened her mouth to speak but fell silent. She knew I was right, even if she didn't believe me.

Itching closer, her grip on my arm tightened, "You can't keep hating him."

"I can," I replied before I let her thought settle in my head, "Don't you see Eliza, he put all of this in place. He could have killed Drago ten years before your mother's death. You grew up without a mother because of him."

Eliza's eyes dropped as she ran her tongue across her dry lips. I knew what I was doing and it was cruel. I was purposely using her grief of a life she never had to my own benefit, to fuel my own hatred of my father. It was a tactic I had mastered in my life. I was almost disappointed in myself that I was doing this to her.

"I grew up without a mother, because of Sebastian Drago," she told her, forcing her voice to be strong, "I lost my mother because my father put his trust in the wrong man for too long. You can't keep hating your father forever."

I turned away from her, a sad attempt not to listen to her.

"Hey," she stopped me, cupping my cheek with her wet palm and forcing my face to meet hers, "You can't."

I swallowed, taking in her serious and demanding eyes. Couldn't she understand? Did she not hate her father after his death? After he became a different person to the man she knew?

"Don't you hate your father?" I questioned her, my voice weak and confused as I searched for answers on her face, "He ruined your life. He took away your life. Your twenty-one years old, Eliza. You should be out, making bad mistakes and going home with men you don't know. He forced you to grow up, take on responsibility and marry before you were ready."

"And gave me everything I wanted in return," she countered, jumping even closer to me so that her thigh lied across mine.

My heart pounded at her closeness that I almost became dizzy at her confession.

"E-Everything you said is true. And your right, I did hate him," she stuttered as if it was something hard for her to admit, "But he gave me you."

All the air in my lungs escaped my mouth and for a second, I couldn't breathe. Me? Even to this day, I remind sceptical at the thought. All I had given to her life was darkness and a few moments of light. Even Konrad. He had focused his attentions on her because of me. How can she possibly choose to love me?

"You can hate Oscar all you want Patrick but you can't keep denying the truth. We would never have met if it wasn't for our father's plans," she told me, no words ringing more true.

I closed my eyes and thought. Finally, what everyone else had been screaming at me was finally coming true. Eliza did choose to stay with me. She chose to love me, to be with me. To be my wife, my queen, the love of my life.

Hadn't I chosen her as well? Hadn't I chosen her at some point too?

When we were shot at, I realized I finally had something to lose. When her father died, I had gained a kindred spirit. When we were shot at again, I had found myself someone who I could confess every thought running through my head. When my own father died, she became my carer and protector. And when she was stolen from me, I realized I could not possibly live without her.

"I chose you, you know," I confessed to her, like she had done a million times before, "Yes, our father had brought as together but it was us that decided not to be apart."

A smile curled on her lips as her eyes beamed with light. My hands took a hold of hers with force as I realised what a complete idiot I had been these past weeks.

"I am so sorry Eliza that I ever doubted that. I doubted you and everything we had built together," I told her, cupping her nape and tugging her closer to me, "You are my wife, my queen, my Eliza. And no one else's."

She giggled at me, running the backs of her index finger along my jawline, "I'm so glad you finally figured that out."

I snorted, recognising that I had been a fool, "I'm sorry."

"So, what made it click? The million times I reminded you or the sex we had last night?" she joked, making my insides tighten with so much want.

Not letting either of us speak another word, I seized her lips in a hast. She took me willingly, managing to keep up with me as I slipped my tongue across the insides of her mouth and along her tongue. Her groans filled my mouth, egging me on and causing my fingers to dig into her soft, wet skin. I wanted her and no one else.

"Wait, Patrick, wait," she huffed, out of breath as she pulled away, "We have other things to talk about."

"Like what?" I demanded, leaving all my senses behind, "Eliza, do not ruin this moment."

"I'm not trying to," she told me, patting my cheek, "But we need to talk about last night."

I frowned. Last night? Konrad? Is that seriously more important than this?

"Eliza, I told you that Konrad is not going to be a problem –,"

"I'm not talking about Konrad," she stopped me, sliding her hand down to my chest.

I frowned, "then what is it?"

She was quiet. I could tell that there was something on her mind but I couldn't figure out what it could be? last night? What else happened last night that was important enough to interrupt this?

"Eliza?" I pressed, pinching her chin with my fingers.

"Kids, Patrick!" she cried out, making me jump, "That isn't the first time we've had unprotected sex and the pill isn't always reliable."

My mind began to turn and turn as she began to ramble off in a panic.

"It was always on the cards, but we've never really spoken about it before. Not when? How many? What this would mean for us?" she carried on, "Basically, I don't want it to happen when neither of us are prepared and we both regret it."

Okay? Wow. Where to begin?

"Oh God Patrick say something?" Eliza demanded with a regretful groan, "just forget I said anything."

"What, no," I cried out, taking a hold of her hand in an attempt to reassure her, "I'm...glad you brought it up. We need to talk about it."

She sighed in relief as I began to panic. In truth I hadn't thought about it. Children were always on the cards but not because it was something that I exactly wanted. Every kingdom needs a hire. Of course, things were different now. I wanted children for the right reasons, with the right woman. But there were many things to consider.

"Um, well, when did you think we should have them?" I asked her, hoping she would provide me with some answers.

She was surprised at first by my question, and struggled to find the answer, "Well, um, before I'm thirty I suppose. D-depending on how many we should have?"

I nodded, trying to keep control of my thoughts, "How many do you want?"

"How many do you want?"

I frowned, "Eliza, answer the question."

"But I don't want to," She squeaked, bring her entwined fingers to her lips as she began to hide.

I looked at her dumbly, forcing her to give in.

"I don't want a whole tribe of them. But I thought one or two would be nice," she confessed, probably making herself sound more easy going than what she really was.

"One or two?" I questioned, trying to get the thought in my head.

"Yeah. I mean I know how lonely it can be to be an only child, I wouldn't wish that life into anyone."

Nor I.

I remind silent, trying to process. Children. Being a father. Being responsible for something that couldn't fend for itself. Not to mention, another weakness that could be so easily stolen.

"Of course," Eliza breathed, sounding dishearten, "you don't really want them."

"It's not that," I was quick to say, not really sure if I meant it, "it just...I wouldn't know where to start on bringing up children."

"Do you think I do?" She cried, shaking her head desperately, "I grew up without a mother. I wouldn't know where to begin."

I took in a deep breath, continuing to ask the question again and again. Children? Children? Patrick Maestri a father? I barely managed to be a good husband most days let alone be a father.

I began to play with my fingers, pondering on the question. Would I even be any good at it? Would I have to hide different sides of my life, sides I didn't even want to know myself? Would I follow in my father's footsteps and force this life onto an innocent child who did not wish it, or copy Eliza's Pappa's tactics and keep them from it until it's too late and they have to learn it on their own.

"Do you think I would be a good father?" I asked her, keeping my focus on my fingers.

I flinched when I felt Eliza's wet fingers dancing up and down my arm, calming my body.

"I think you will be a great father," she told me, her voice so soft that I could only just hear her over the humming of the jets.

I wondered if she was just saying it to reassure me, help warm me to the idea of becoming a parent. But something in her voice, something that I could only find in hers told me otherwise.

I knew I could only be honest with her. Set the rules, set the conditions and write down all the outcomes. I loved her and I loved the possibility of a family. But that's exactly what it was. Only a possibility.

"I love you Eliza and I do want a family with you –."

"But," Eliza stopped me, sensing like a pro what I was about to say as if she had read my mind.

I sighed, taking her hands in mine, "But there's so many dark forces that are working against us. Konrad is still an issue, no matter how much we choose to believe otherwise. And Odin –."

"Odin isn't a threat," she buttered in, becoming angry, probably more from the memory of this afternoon than anything else.

"Eliza, he forced himself onto you this afternoon."

"I know."

"If he can attempt to do it once, then he can do it again."

"Then we kill him and be done with it," she cried out, growing frustrated by the conversation.

Other times when she had made a comment such as this, I would laugh and find her joke cute. But I feared she wasn't joking. Had I not noticed the signs? Had she been walking down the road to darkness without me even realizing?

"Eliza, don't say things like that," I told her, not recognising the sound of worry that filled my voice.

"Why?" she asked in a huff, "You kill people who do you wrong. Am I that weak that I have to get my husband to do it?"

"You are anything but weak," I told her, pinching her chin and watching as her eyes softened at my affection, "it is not your job to kill anyone. As your husband it is my honour to kill for you."

Eliza eyes narrowed at me, "That sounds so old fashion."

I smiled, feeling proud of it, "Well, you have an old-fashioned husband."

"So, you will go kill Odin for me?" she challenged, tilting her head in that flirty and devious way.

"Your wish is my command," I pronounced, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips.

First, her eyes shorn bright but soon dropped as something played on her mind.

"There is always going to be something, Patrick," she told me, "Konrad, Odin, probably Harald when he decides that he's tired of us running circles around him and who knows when Paige Caivano comes back into town."

I fought the urge to reassure her that Paige Caivano will never be welcomed back into New York.

"We are always going to be living in a war, fighting battles. There's always going to be a reason not to do it," she preached, her eyes pleading with the most hidden parts of my soul.

"So, basically your saying we shouldn't let the fact that we both live dangerous lives be a deterrent to beginning a family. That we shouldn't let our own experience of becoming orphans stop us. Eliza we can't be selfish in this."

"I know, Patrick," she whispered, beginning to squirm as she tried to fight my strong arguments.

"So, can you promise me that you will not leave me? Can you, whole-heartedly swear to me that you will be alive to raise our children with me? Because I can not do it on my own."

She sucked in a sharp breath at the thought. I suppose she hadn't considered the possibility whereas I began to tremble at the thought. Losing the love of my life was hard enough to bare without the thought of having to rise children on my own, specially without her guiding and loving hand.

"What are you always saying, Patrick? That you will always protect me? That we will always be safe?" she argued, using my own words against me.

"With children, that all becomes different," I explained, "more weaknesses –."

"Strengths, Patrick, strengths," she corrected, squeezing my hands in attempt to get the thought through, "Haven't we been over this? Family isn't a weakness."

"And haven't you learned anything?" I demanded, not hiding my frustration over her still naivety of the cruelty of this world after all this time, "Didn't last years event teach you anything? There are people in this world who will stop at nothing to get what they want, including orphaning children or killing them instead."

I was out of breath and I couldn't bare it. This wasn't what this night was suppose to be. We weren't supposed to be arguing, we were meant to be focusing on each other.

"Do you know what last year's events taught me?" she questioned, her voice strong and demanding to be heard, "That life is short and precious...and I don't want to live another day without you by my side."

My heart began to pound at yet another confession. Her love for me was undeniable and it deserved to be returned.

I couldn't help myself. Cupping her nape, I forced her lips to mine. They were eagerly met with urgent kisses, tugging at my bottom lip. My eyes squeezed closed, losing myself in the moment. Oh just to let go. Just to give in to these happy, hopeful thoughts. Children? A life? A happily ever after? To forget about the threats, the dangers, the devils that plagued us. Just to live a long happy life together.

"Patrick," she whispered against my lips, her fingernails digging into my neck, "What about the other things we need to discuss –."

"Forget about them," I ordered, framing her head with both my hands, "We will talk about it tomorrow. Right now, let just me love you the only way I know how."

A small puff of air escaped her lips, her eyes glistening with tears. And in that moment, I could not love her more.

Sliding off the tiled seat, I emerged in the bubbling, warm water. Eliza followed my lead, joining me in the middle of the tub. My fingers took a mind of their own, dancing along her jawline, down her neck and across her shoulders. I focused only on the feel of her skin against my hands, smooth, soft and wet. Her hands began to copy me, gliding up my abs to my chest making my body tingle.

My eyes became glued to the small droplets of water, dripping from her hair and slowly falling over her shoulders, down between her breasts. I felt my shaft twitch at the sight of her plump breasts, only covered by simple triangle-shaped