Topic: A Moment's Respite

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:44 EST
November 9th, 1613

The week that stretched between the arrival of Princess Marianne and the wedding itself seemed to distort time to breaking point. On paper, seven days did not look so very long, and yet in practice, at a court where the bride was kept sequestered to protect her virtue and reputation and the groom was put upon by the duties of his birthright, the days dragged painfully slowly. Four days after the princess' presentation at court, Marianne had seen Stephan perhaps twice, always in the company of others, and now, as notable guests began to arrive, it started to seem as though he might never get out from under the weight of greetings and welcomes. His secretary did his best, but the King was firm on the matter - the Crown Prince had to personally welcome as many of those who were coming to his wedding as was humanly possible.

"Your highness, the representative from the Edessan court will be arriving this morning, and I believe not long after, the king of Epirus' second son and his wife will present themselves at court. The king, your father, has sent a list of names of those he believes you should greet in person ..." There was a rustle as the roll of parchment was straightened. It was depressingly long.

In Stephan's eyes, it seemed like the longest week of his life, not just because he was anxious to make his sweet princess his wife, but because he was growing tired of the constant demands of court, though he knew those demands and responsibilities were all part and parcel of being who he was and who he was expected to be. But enough was enough. He wasn't even king yet, and he was already exhausted. It didn't help that he was wandering the castle late into the night, unable to sleep, the faces of the men he'd cut down haunting him still. His father had assured him those faces would fade with time, but the battle with its blood and carnage was still too fresh in his mind.

"Goddess," he sighed, shoving long fingers through his hair. Would it never end" Would he never get a single moment's peace" He had not seen the princess in days, and even then, only briefly. He wondered if she was having any regrets or second thoughts about marrying him, now that she was here in Berengaria and the full weight of responsibility had been thrust upon them both. He moved to his feet to gather his cloak, as if he was readying to go somewhere.

"Your highness?" His secretary looked startled by his master's sudden movement, glancing to the cloak in the prince's hand in concern. "Do you intend to ride out to meet the Edessans?"

"No, I intend to get away from this bloody castle for a while before it suffocates me," he replied, tossing the cloak over his shoulders and fastening it at his throat as he moved for the doors. "If my father inquires as to my whereabouts, tell him I went for a ride and will return shortly," he informed the man, leaving no room for a quarrel. He felt a headache coming on, and the ride would do him good.

The stammering of his secretary was lost as the door closed behind him. The poor man might get himself dressed down by the king for delivering such news, but Philippe knew his son well enough. There was only so much a man could take, after all. The halls of the castle were bustling with movement - servants, courtiers, mingling and conversing, each as excited as the other at the exalted faces that were joining them in preparation for the wedding that was so soon to come.

Long strides took him toward that part of the castle where his mother's quarters were, almost without thought, though it wasn't his mother he was hoping to see, but the elusive princess who was to become his wife in a matter of a few days. He wound his way through the maze of servants and courtiers, all busily chattering about the upcoming wedding, it seemed, falling silent when they realized the Crown Prince himself was in their midst. All the excitement did was make Stephan even more nervous and anxious to escape for a little while, away from the watchful eyes and ears of the court.

Not even the ripple of respectful silence that only just preceded him was enough to warn the Queen's chamberlain of his approach in time to get through the doors of his mother's suite before the prince, resulting in the announcement of Catherine's eldest son from behind him as he strode into the midst of her ladies.

As Catherine laughed to see him, one face among the gathered women who curtseyed rose to find his with a shy smile he had come to know well on the ride into the city. Marianne had been kept by the queen's side almost constantly since her arrival, surrounded by prominent ladies of the court, introduced to them and expected to learn dances and customs within a matter of days. She, too, was feeling more than a little stifled by the excited anticipation that smothered her.

"Ah, my son," Catherine said warmly, the only woman there who did not sweep into a deep curtsey before him. Her eyes twinkled merrily, not unlike his, flickering to the young princess. "And what brings you here, may I ask?"

He was almost as surprised as they were to find himself there, only realizing where he was going once he arrived at his destination. Upon seeing the princess, he stopped dead in his tracks, as struck by her beauty as he had been upon their first meeting. He seemed at a loss for words a moment, sorely tempted to take her by the hand and draw her away with him, prevented from doing so only by the crowd of ladies watching and his own good sense. "Mother," he started, with a small, polite bow. "I am going for a ride, and I would like to request that the princess accompany me."

At a gesture from the queen, the ladies rose to stand once again, eyes turning curiously from the prince to his bride. Catherine's smile warmed, knowing she shouldn't help her son escape his duties, but well aware of how appalling it could be to be the center of so much interest and speculation. "I think that such a request should be made to the princess herself," she said, knowing she was likely to catch a certain amount of heat from her husband for allowing this, but prepared to weather it. She turned to Marianne. "Princess, would you like to ride with the prince for a short while?"

The relief on Marianne's face was almost comical, hidden swiftly behind the smile that rose as she inclined her head, well-trained in courtly manners. "If the queen permits, I should very much like to join your highness," she said softly, her words for Stephan alone, despite the crowd around them.

Catherine swallowed a grin. "Then I should make your escape quickly, before the king discovers you have gone," she suggested in a surprisingly mischievous tone.

A smile spread across Stephan's face when he realized his mother was not only going to allow a short escape, but seemed to be doing nothing to discourage it. "Shall we, then?" he asked, extending a gloved hand to the princess, blue eyes sparkling with that familiar hint of almost boyish mischief.

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:45 EST
The mischief in Marianne's eyes was only recognizable to Stephan, who knew to look for it. Her hand slipped into his easily as she stepped forward, aware that the gossip would go through the roof and for once not caring. "As your highness commands," she agreed quietly, her own lady hurrying from the room to fetch her cloak and gloves.

"I command nothing of you, as yet, my lady," he countered, his own mischief matching hers. Propriety be damned; they needed this, and his mother seemed to sense it. Maybe it was the shadows beneath his eyes, but if anyone knew the prince, it was his mother. "But if you like, I offer a small respite from the demands of my mother and her ladies." Now he was just teasing them both.

As the princess fought not to giggle, Stephan's mother made a rude noise in his direction, never one to care if her ladies saw the deep affection she held for him. "Then I shall command both of you," Catherine declared. "Leave, and do not come back until you have swept the cobwebs away."

Biting her lips to keep from laughing at the enchanting warmth shared between mother and son, Marianne curtseyed to the queen. "As your majesty wishes."

The Crown Prince swept in to kiss his mother's cheek in gratitude for allowing them to escape, even for a little while, without escort or entourage to shadow them for once, trusting her son to use his best judgment. "Thank you, Mother," he whispered in her ear, before stepping back and flashing a smile at the princess as he snatched up her hand once again. "I promise I shall be a complete gentleman."

"Of course you shall," his mother agreed, nodding her smiling acceptance of his thanks as he took his princess' hand once again. "There is no question of the honor of the Crown Prince, nor his intentions toward his betrothed." And with one sentence spoken aloud, she had silenced the gossips. Queen Catherine knew her court inside and out.

He flashed another grin, first at his mother, then at the princess, letting her see a side of him she had not yet seen before tugging her by the hand toward the door for their escape.

Still struggling not to laugh out loud, Marianne hurried after her betrothed in a rustle of skirts, pausing as the door to the Queen's apartments closed behind them to let Lady Bryant tuck her cloak about her shoulders. Taking her gloves in one hand, she returned her touch to Stephan's palm, looking up at him innocently. "And where is it we shall ride to, your highness?"

"Wherever the wind takes us," he replied with a warm smile as she touched her fingers to his palm and he closed his fingers around hers, lingering in her gaze a moment longer than necessary. What was it about her that made him feel so young again? "Good day, Lady Bryant," he said, spontaneously kissing her cheek, as he had his mother's. "I promise I shall have her back before the evening meal," he said, tugging on the princess' hand once more to lead her way from the queen's rooms. "Come, we'll take the servants' staircase," he said, hurrying down the hall with her to the stairs that were reserved for servants, but that he'd been known to use when he wanted to sneak away unseen.

Lady Bryant's reaction to his kiss was as far from his mother's as he could have wished for. Startled and affronted by the display of affection from a man not related to her at all, the older woman pulled back in shock. "Your highness!"

But the only answer she got was her young charge's giggles as Marianne hurried along in Stephan's wake, one hand firmly ensconced in his, the other holding her skirts up to keep herself from tripping. "I do not yet have a horse," she pointed out as he drew her into the servants' corridors. "My palfrey has yet to recover from the journey."

"Then we shall take mine," he replied back as he hurried along the hall and down the stairs, winding their way through the many corridors and rooms of the castle until they were finally safely outside, the air brisk and refreshing after the stifling walls of the castle.

The cold air was a balm to someone who had been inside and away from an open window for too long, freshening the color in the princess' cheeks as she pulled her gloves on. "And no one will stop us?" she asked, as delighted by the prospect of the ride as by the chance to be alone with Stephan once again.

The dark shadows beneath his eyes seemed to disappear almost at once, as he took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. "No, so long as we don't encounter my father." The High King might have something to say about the two of them sneaking away from the castle for a little while, but he was confident his mother would find a way to smooth things over. "Shall we?" he asked, waiting until she had her gloves on before offering her a hand again. They still had to get into the livery to fetch his horse before they could completely escape, but he had a plan.

Her eyes widened a little at the thought of being caught by his father in their escape, but she couldn't help the small giggle that bled past her lips at that same thought. "Then we had best not be caught," she agreed, tucking her hand into his once again. She had yet to learn her way about the castle, entirely in his hands even in this.

It wasn't long before they were both settled atop that lovely white horse again, just as they had been a few days before when he'd escorted her to the castle to be his bride. This time, however, there were no eyes to watch them, no one to stop him if he wanted to touch her hand or her cheek or kiss her sweet lips. He waited until they were outside the castle gates before letting the horse have his legs, hooves thundering across the grassy hillside heading north away from the city.

Set astride the stallion at Stephan's back, Marianne held on tightly about his waist as he guided the creature into a thundering gallop, ignoring the looks of surprise on those they passed as she laughed joyously at the sense of freedom that thrilled her.

Moments like these were all too rare, all too precious. Moments like these were what memories were made of, and he was hoping that he would have many moments such as these as the years wore on, with her ever beside him. On they rode, until they were a few miles away from the castle - close enough to make for an easy return, but far enough not to be found or interrupted. He slowed the horse to a canter as they entered a small wood where the trees would serve as a canopy to shelter them from the wind and from anyone who might come looking for them.

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:46 EST
Wrapped close against his back, Marianne had no idea how closely her thoughts paralleled his as they rode away from the court and responsibilities, into the sort of privacy that they would have to learn how to create for themselves over the years to come. As the horse slowed, she loosened her tight grasp but did not let go, peeking over his shoulder as the trees closed in around them. "Where are we?"

"Nowhere," he replied. "Everywhere." The horse meandered its way through the wood, as if he knew where he was going all on his own. One hand let go of the reins to wrap his fingers around her hand and press it against his chest, as if he needed to feel her touch and know that she was close beside him. "I used to come here sometimes when I was a boy to be alone."

Her palm flattened against his chest, fingertips gently pressing into his jerkin as she inched a little closer, laying her chin on his shoulder. "It must be beautiful in the summer, given how lovely it is now," she murmured, her lips close to his ear. Her smile was audible as she dared to tease him. "You must have won many sword fights against these trees as a small boy."

All too aware of her closeness, his heart was beating wildly inside his chest, hoping she did not notice it beneath her fingers and mistake it for fear. He smiled at a memory that came to him when she spoke, chuckling a little to himself. "I won a few. I'm afraid some of these trees still bear the scars I gave them as a boy." He nudged the horse onward, moving slowly through the trees at an unhurried pace. "It's lovely here in winter," he said, distractedly. Lovely and cold and quiet, the perfect place to get away and think without anyone to disturb those thoughts.

Her smile warmed to hear that she had guessed right, and without thinking, she nestled closer still, her temple finding a place to rest against his neck as she leaned into his back. "Thank you, for rescuing me," she found herself murmuring softly. "Not from your mother, whose company I could happily share every day, but from her ladies. I am not used to how very open people are here with their private dalliances; I feel sure some of their stories were made up, just to see me blush."

"Yes, well, they're not very private if they're shared, are they?" he asked, slightly annoyed with that aspect of the society he lived in. He had been raised by parents who valued faithfulness in each other, despite the open acceptance in their society for affairs and such. He'd had a few such affairs himself, though they'd been fairly short-lived.

Hearing the slight edge to his tone, Marianne subsided, falling silent rather than dance with a temper she knew nothing about. So that was a topic she had best not raise again, she told herself, making a note never to raise it in his company in future. She was not as easy with talk as many people at court, having spent much of her life secluded at her mother's orders, at a loss as to what she could say to move them past this sense of awkwardness.

He seemed to sense something in her silence that told him he'd made her distraught, and that had not been his intention in the least. Not today. He'd wanted to take her away from the castle so they could be alone for a little while and get better acquainted before marriage was thrust on them. "I'm sorry. That was harsh of me, wasn't it?" he asked, pulling the horse to a halt once again as they came upon a slow meandering brook that cut through the woods, the only sound that of the water rippling over the rocks.

"I did not mean to anger you," she said quietly. "I am not so used to light talk and company as others; until my cousin returned from Kediri, I was kept away from court and not allowed many visitors. My manners must seem very stilted."

"There's nothing wrong with your manners," he pointed out, pausing a moment to climb down off the horse. "Walk with me?" he asked, though he had a feeling she would not deny him nearly anything he asked of her.

Releasing him reluctantly from her arms as he dismounted, she smiled her soft, shy smile at his request, nodding her assent. "I should like that very much," she agreed easily, her cheeks flushing rose once more as she swung her leg over the saddle to attempt to slither down to the ground with some semblance of dignity, despite the goodly length of silk stocking now in evidence to her knee.

He reached up to help her down from the big white beast, thankfully tall enough that he could settle his hands at her waist and practically lift her off the horse with very little trouble. The hint of stocking did very little to calm his nerves, but he said nothing about it. He had turned serious again, for some reason, hoping he had the opportunity to explain himself without offending her further.

There was, she now discovered, a very great difference between her arms about him on horseback, and his hands at her waist as her feet found purchase on the ground. Where her embrace to his back had seemed easy, comfortable, this encounter - brief though it was - set her heart pounding suddenly, igniting the sweet longing he had shown her at their first meeting as her fingers tightened in his cloak. She found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him; would it be the same as that one, brief touch on the road to Berengaria, or would it be different' Swallowing, she let her hands slide from their grasp at his shoulders, unaware of how very intimate the drift of her palms down his chest would be until it was already done. "Thank you, your highness."

He, too, was aware of the difference, not quite as close as they'd been on horseback, though face to face, it seemed far more intimate, and yet, he wanted her to see his face when he spoke to her, so that she knew he meant what he said and that they were not just meaningless words uttered in hopes of appeasing her and allaying her fears. Each touch, however brief and innocent, seemed to set his heart on fire, though his expression remained unchanged, but for a slight softening of his features he could hardly control. "I will be forthright with you, Marianne," he said, offering her his hand so that he could lead her a little away from the horse who only protested with a mild toss of his head.

Her hand slipped into his without even a moment of thought to precede it, the trust he had asked her for on the road still there, despite their enforced separation over the past days. "I shall try to do the same," she promised him, her soft voice seeming too loud to her ears in the quiet that surrounded them. "I am not accustomed to it, but I shall try."

"I expect there is much we do not know about each other, but I would allay your your fears, if I may," he said, leading her toward a large rock on the bank of the creek that had served him well in the past as a makeshift bench upon which he had spent countless hours mastering the skills of rock-skipping and pondering his thoughts.

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:47 EST
She moved with him easily, matching her step to his with the grace that all royal women seemed to hold, regardless of their age. Her hair, left long down her back in the Pomeran custom, swayed over her shoulders as they walked. "I am not afraid of you, your- ..." She caught herself this time with a quiet laugh. "Stephan. I am only ....uncertain. I am sure to make so many mistakes."

He turned to face her, still standing, though with the intention of sitting a while on the rock and getting to know her better. "We are not so very different, Marianne," he said, in that eager attempt to reassure her and make her feel more welcome, more at home here in this place that was so different from her own homeland. "I must confess I am not terribly fond of all the customs of my people," he added. "Nor of everything that is expected of me."

Her other hand rose to capture his between her palms as she looked up at him. "You will be a great king someday," she predicted, certain in that, at the very least. "And truly, I do not mean to disparage Pomerania, for it is a wonderful place. It is only the thought of so much expectation that frightens me. In a few days, I will be your wife, and everything I do will reflect upon you. I could not bear to disgrace you."

"I have no fear of that," he assured her, daring to touch her cheek with gloved fingertips. "Sweet Marianne, how can I make you understand" Once I take my vows to be your husband, I promise you there will be no dalliances, no affairs, no scandal to reflect badly on either you or myself. I believe the king and queen should be above all such reproach. They should conduct themselves with honor and respectability. They should serve as a shining example to the rest of their people. There can be no scandal, not among royals."

The surprise in her eyes was unguarded as he spoke. Her ladies in Francia had warned her many times that any husband who took her would take mistresses, and that she should turn a blind eye to them, as all sensible women did. To hear from his own lips that Stephan had no intention of doing so was not what she had been taught to expect. "I ....I was told that, when a woman is with child, her husband is expected to seek a mistress," she ventured quietly, those few words telling him all he needed to know of her education in these matters. "I do not know for myself, but I do know that men seem to require something of a mistress that a wife cannot give."

"Nonsense," Stephan replied with a wave of his hand at the ridiculousness of such a statement, despite what he, too, had been taught and even witnessed all the years of his upbringing. He only needed one woman to keep him happy, he thought, and she was standing right there in front of him. "If you can bear a child for nine months of a year, I can certainly bear it with you. What kind of a man would I be if I got you with child and then sought relief in another woman's bed?"

Bewilderment suffused her expression as she looked up at him, innocent enough not to know what a mistress truly was, and thus easily confused by the concept altogether. "You must think me very slow," she said awkwardly, "but I do not understand. The ladies of the queen's chamber are so very ....brazen." And one had taken great delight in telling the princess about her own dalliance with the Crown Prince some time ago. "It is not that I would wish you to be unfaithful, but ....I would not have you discomfort yourself for my sake. I know my duty."

He narrowed his eyes at the news of that encounter. He'd had a few dalliances, but they had all been brief and fairly meaningless. He wondered which of his mother's ladies was tossing his name around as though he was no less important than a commoner on the streets. "And which would that be? It wouldn't be Margaret, by any chance?" he asked, knowing well that most likely it was. He had been young at the time, and she had taught him the finer points of being a lover, but he resented her relating any part of that dalliance to his betrothed who would once day be her queen.

Marianne tensed, sure she had crossed some line with her careful words once again, her skin coloring under his narrowed eyes. "I ....believe so," she nodded, ducking her head shyly, as though expecting to be scolded herself. "I do not know how the topic came up, but there were several ladies who shared stories." And had delighted in the way the young princess had blushed and stammered the more detailed those stories had become.

His face flushed briefly with anger, but that anger was not directed at his betrothed but at his mother's ladies with their waggling tongues. "I shall have a word with Margaret," he said, keeping his voice very carefully low, so that she did not hear the anger in his words. "You need not worry. What passed between us was brief and a long time ago. I have no intentions of rekindling that relationship."

"I understand, your highness." She nodded, her eyes still lowered. Though she had only been at court for a few days, Marianne was achingly aware that, in comparison with the women Stephan had known all his life, she was small and dull and painfully innocent, ill-equipped for even sparkling conversation in the midst of the bold vigor of the bright ladies of Pomerania.

He frowned at her, noticing how demure and gentle she was and how she deferred to him, like she was one of his subjects. "Look at me, Marianne," he said, gentling his voice, so that it was more a request than a command. Though he certainly was not only capable of commanding his subjects, but was encouraged to do so, he preferred to rule with a gentler hand, allowing people to make their own decisions and more than not, receiving the desired results anyway.

He should have known by now that she would deny him nothing, even through her own uncertainty, setting her life and the path it would take into his hands without reserve. Blue eyes lifted to meet his, guilt obvious in her expression for her own perception that she had displeased him in some way.

His heart thudded in his chest when she lifted her gaze to his, seeing something in those eyes of hers that told him to tread carefully and gently. It wasn't only that she was young; there was something there, some hint of hurt or guilt that had absolutely nothing to do with him, or so he thought. "Sweet, lovely Marianne..." he said, sighing softly, as he touched her cheek again, hating the gloves for keeping his fingers from the warm touch of her flesh. "She means nothing to me. She is only boasting to try and get a rise out of you. You said you trust me. Well, trust me now when I say there is no one you need fear. I have not have a lover in some years. There is no one but you."

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:48 EST
Rose flooded her cheeks once again as she comprehended what he was telling her - that he saw no need for a mistress when he would have her for a wife. The breath rushed from her body in a sudden gasp, her eyes wide with hope. "No one?" she repeated, soft and unsure. "You would truly have no one but me" But ....I am dull and quiet, not at all like the ladies you have known, and I know nothing of what it is to be a-a lover."

"Do you really think so little of yourself?" he asked, that gloved hand never moving from her face but to cup her chin gently as he gazed into her eyes. "You see yourself as dull and quiet, while I see shy and gentle. Do you really think I'd rather have a woman who does not know when to stop chattering over one who is quietly strong and confident' I do not desire a braggart for a wife or a lover. What I desire, Marianne, is an equal. A companion and a confidante. A mother to my children, and yes, a lover, but there is no rush in that. It will come in time, and I will try to be a gentle, patient teacher."

"I will try," she promised him fervently, wanting nothing more than to please him and in some way gain the future he seemed to be laying out for them. "I should truly like nothing more than to be all these things to you, Stephan. It is only that I have not the confidence to push myself forward, to take the foreground where others are so very comfortable. I swear to you, I will learn to be what you need of me."

"You only need to learn how to love me, Marianne. If you can learn that, I would be the happiest man in all of Pomerania," he told her quietly, his heart aching for her to love him, but knowing it was too soon to expect such a thing. For all the lovers who had shared his bed over the years, none, he thought, had ever truly loved him, nor he them, but the time for dalliances was over. If they were going to be married in the eyes of the Goddess and the Church, he wanted that marriage to be one of love and honor and trust, not just made for political purposes and convenience. "I know it is a lot to ask, but given time, I would hope we could at least be friends."

The guarded uncertainty in her eyes faded away, leaving only the bright hint of a smile as she gazed up at him. "I do not know much of the world," she confessed softly, "but one thing I do know, and that is this ....That you will be very easy to love, Stephan, and my heart is already warm to you. I promise you now my faith and my friendship, and the hope that love will not be long in coming." Reassured so well by him, she dared to repeat her boldness from the ride to Berengaria, raising his hand to touch her lips to his gloved palm, wishing the leather were not there at all.

His heart skipped a beat at her words, his eyes softening further and shining with perhaps a small trace of tears, deeply touched not only by her tender words but the truth and sincerity beneath them. "Even if you should never come to love me, I swear I will always keep your heart safe, my Marianne," he said, taking her gloved hand in his own and pressing it to his lips, even as she kissed his.

She gasped softly at the heat of his mouth against her palm even through her glove, daring to brush her fingertips against his cheek as they lingered together in the quiet hush of the dell he had brought them to. She could not recall a time when anyone had called her their Marianne - not even her mother or father - and found that she liked the sound of it, from Stephan's lips. "I am your Marianne," she murmured fiercely. "I will never be anyone else's, I swear it."

"And I will be your Stephan," he replied in return, as she touched his cheek, causing his insides to flutter, like a schoolboy falling in love for the very first time. Had he ever been in love, he wondered. He thought he had, but looking into her eyes, he couldn't recall any other face but hers. "Would you mind very much if I kissed you?" he said, asking permission this time, rather than stealing a hurried kiss for fear someone might see.

The curve of her smile parted her lips as her eyes took on a very slight sparkle of mischief once again, her fingers trailing gently from his jaw to lay her palm over his heart. "So long as I am yours, I do not believe I shall ever object to your kissing me," was her answer to his gentle quest for permission, nervous though she was of disappointing him with her inexperience.

There was little need for her nervousness, as he found her inexperience charming - far more charming than the Lady Margaret, who seemed to take great joy in boasting about her sexual escapades with the Crown Prince, as though it was a feather in her cap or a notch on her belt. Were she a man, he might have challenged her, but he was not one to stir up the hen house over a few waggling tongues, knowing that would cause more trouble than it was was worth. "You shall always be mine, so long as I live," was his response to that as he tipped her chin toward him once again and slowly leaned in, giving himself a moment to take her in before tilting his head and fitting his mouth to hers. The kiss was as tender as the first, but less hurried, taking his time with this, their second kiss. His lips lingered against hers, chastely, allowing her to taste that kiss and savor it before he asked for one that was more demanding.

She rose onto her toes as he kissed her - her second kiss in a lifetime, in just a few days; a kiss that made her pulse jump, her breath catch in her throat, that drew the softness of warmth swelling from her heart as her lips softened beneath his, giving even in her untutored way as much as she received. Her fingers curled into the folds of his jerkin and cloak, a small half-step closing the polite distance between them to something far less polite, far more intimate.

He slipped an arm around her waist, almost without thinking, letting his instincts lead the way, though he knew he could not take her very far down this path. In another few days, they'd be wed, and then he could properly tutor her in the ways of love. It did not yet occur to him that it was more likely her who was teaching him how to love, than the other way around. He let the kiss linger for a while against her lips before the need for breath made it necessary to end it. He exhaled a soft sigh and drew his arms around her to hold her close, feeling her heart beating so close to his.

Marianne couldn't have said for sure how she had come to be in his embrace, his kiss having gently muddled her wits until all she could perceive was him. Somehow, her arms had slipped about him, warm beneath the hang on his cloak, her slight frame leaning into his as that necessary end came. And still her eyes remained closed, her chest heaving with each breath. If this was what a simple kiss could do to her, what then would their wedding night do?

Unknown to her, he was thinking similar thoughts, wondering if it was just the excitement and anticipation or if what he was feeling truly was the first pangs of love. He dared not hope or mention any of this to her, for fear of scaring her off, like a frightened bird who was only just starting to trust his touch. As much as he longed to kiss her again, to take things one step farther, he thought it would be better to let things unfold slowly and naturally at an unhurried pace. "You are like no one I have ever known," he whispered quietly as he held her close, fingers trailing through the silken fall of her hair.

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:48 EST
Held close in his arms, lulled by the tender caress of his fingers through the long length of her hair, she was slow to open her eyes, reluctant to raise her gaze to his for fear it was all some wonderful fancy of her sleeping mind. "Would that you were king of some dream land," she answered him softly, "so that I need never fear waking. I could never have framed even a single wish to form a dream half so wonderful as you are."

"This is no dream, Marianne. I am as real as you are. Would that it were a dream, you would awaken to find that none of this is real. Isn't it better this way, then?" he asked, just as softly, his voice close to her ear as he stroked her hair and held her close against him. They had not yet sat down, nor was he inclined to do so, if it meant letting her out of his embrace.

"Is it truly real?" she whispered to him, trembling in the strong grip of what she was feeling. If it was not love yet, then it was a strong promise of love to come, holding her a willing captive in his arms. "I had never thought to hope that you would be so perfect." Her head turned, just a little, just enough to stroke her temple against his jaw, that familiar shade of rose rising over her face at the innocent, intimate touch of skin to skin.

"Unless I, too, am dreaming, it is indeed real," he assured her, feeling her lean her head against his jaw and turning his head just a little so that the could touch is lips protectively to her temple in a tender display of growing affection. "I will do my best to make you happy, if I can."

She smiled, tilting her head back to look up at him. "We, neither of us, can make the other happy," she told him with gentle amusement. "But I think we could be happy together." Emboldened by the warmth between them, she shifted just a little, sliding her hand free of her glove to caress his cheek without the soft leather to impede her touch, giggling a little at the tickle of his beard against her palm. "I could love you, so easily."

He met her gaze all too seriously, despite the obvious amusement in her eyes, and closed his eyes briefly at the warm softness of her fingers against his cheek. Something inexplicable twisted inside him at that touch, something he could not quite put words to or had ever felt before. He tilted his head into her hand for a moment before opening his eyes to her again. "Then, what is stopping you?" he asked, though he knew what she meant by her statement. Without even trying, he was doing exactly that which his father and mother and the ambassador had bade him, though he wondered if it was really her who was charming him, rather than the other way around.

Her smile deepened, warm, yes, but amused too. "This is only the second time we have been alone together," she reminded him. "I would not insult you by calling what I feel love until we know each other better. I may have read a lot of silly poetry, but even I am not so foolish as to believe that a man and woman can fall in love in what amounts to just a few hours of acquaintance."

"No, I suppose not," he admitted, with a flush of color in his own cheeks, perhaps in faint embarrassment at his overly eager anticipation. "I do not mean to rush you. Do you know it took years for my parents to even tolerate each other?" he asked, taking her by the arm and leading her toward that flat slab of rock where they could sit for a little while.

She laughed a little, biting at her lower lip. "My parents still cannot stand each other," she offered, resigned to the hostility between her mother and father. "It does not make for a harmonious court." Arm in arm with him, she moved easily along at his side, reluctant to let go even to sit by his side. "Your parents seem very devoted to one another."

"They are," he replied, as he drew her down to sit beside him on the rock, hoping it was not too cold beneath her. "But it was not always so. I am not quite sure what made them change. Perhaps just age and maturity," he said, taking her glove from her so that he could fit it back onto those small, slender fingers of hers before she got cold.

"Or the survival of their third son," she offered softly, the thick folds of her cloak and skirt more than enough to protect her from the chill of the rock. He was more likely to grow cold from that quarter than she was. She watched as he fitted her glove back onto her hand, smiling a little at how careful he was with her. "I am not so delicate as people seem to think," she offered softly. "When I was a child, I used regularly to fence and ride and fight, until my brothers were born."

He made no comment regarding his youngest brother, who he felt his parents had, perhaps, indulged a little too much, reluctant to discuss such things with a young woman he barely knew and who had yet to meet the youngest. Should he warn her that his next brother was likely to flirt with her, perhaps in hopes of stealing her away, or should he trust his youngest brother to act with some manner of decorum for once in his young life" "Delicate" No. Not delicate, and yet, you are someone to be cherished, treasured, protected. Would you prefer that I give you a sword and test your mettle?" he asked with a small teasing smirk.

"I might surprise you," she answered his tease with a bright smile of her own, a challenge in her eyes as one brow rose curiously. Would he dare give a woman a sword, she wondered, or was he just humoring her" "Though I am fairly sure my father let me beat him. I was six at the time."

That made him chuckle. "I'm sure he did. I seem to recall my father beating me badly at that age. I was a little too brash for my own good, I'm afraid. He taught me humility."

She giggled softly, gently tugging her glove snug. "Ah, but you are a prince," she pointed out. "You were always intended to wield a sword and rule your land. I was an oddity, a source of amusement, and once I had brothers, I wasn't amusing any more. It took me a long time to stop resenting Frederick for ever being born."

"And what would have happened if they'd had never had any sons?" he asked, more curious than anything else. He had a feeling if she had been an only child, they might not be sitting here together today sharing this moment and awaiting their marriage, arranged or otherwise.

"I would not be here," she said softly. "I would have been raised as Crown Princess, and groomed to rule Francia, as my younger brother is being. We might never have met but once in a lifetime, as High King and as Queen, and never with the leisure to speak like this, or to feel this way."

"And yet, you will still be a queen. In fact, you will be the Queen of Pomerania one day, the wife of the High King. It is something you could never have hoped for if you had not had brothers," he pointed out, lowering his gaze to reach for her hand and take it between his own. "I'm sure there will be times when you miss home, but I hope I never give you cause to regret."

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:49 EST
"Stephan, this is what I was born for," she reminded him gently. "I have always known that I would be sent away to be the wife of a king or prince, and likely never see my home or my family again. My mother may have had different reasons for keeping me secluded, but she prepared me for that parting by keeping me from knowing Francia all that well. I do not think I will ever regret my good fortune in being given to you."

"Sweet Marianne," he said, rubbing a gloved thumb against her own gloved hand, a soft smile on his face. "I am a truly lucky man to be taking you for a bride." He leaned close to brush a soft kiss against her cheek, not daring to touch her lips again for fear he might go too far. "I am wondering something," he said, the mischievous gleam in his eyes once again.

She blushed, both for the gentle way he said her name, and for the touch of his lips to her cheek, ducking her head with a small laugh to disguise her shy delight at his praise for her. His added comment stopped her before she could ask him to kiss her again, responding to his mischief with her own. "And what is it you are wondering, my lord?"

"You say you used to fence and ride and fight. I would like to see you ride. I would like to indulge you in at least this one thing, if I might." He sprang suddenly to his feet, blue eyes dancing with mischief. "Here, now," he said, tugging her up with him. "Do you dare take Leopold for a ride" He is not accustomed to such a lady as yourself."

Marianne laughed in delight at the prospect of being given the reins of this fine creature, tugged up onto her feet without much trouble at all. "Are you sure you trust me to ride him?" she asked, confident of her seat on horseback even if she hadn't been indulged with such fun in a long while. "Or will you be riding pillion, in case this fine fellow decides to run away with me?"

"Oh, no! I trust him, even if I do not trust you," he countered with a dimpled smirk beneath that beard that told her he was teasing. His horse had faced the horrors of battle and had served him well. He had no doubt he would find a short jaunt with a lady on his back child's play. "Come, let's see how much you remember from your wild youth," he said, tugging her along as he place two fingers to his lips and whistled for the large white beast.

Her brows rose as she looked up at him, rising to the challenge as he whistled for Leopold to come back to his side. "Wild youth, indeed," she muttered laughingly, pulling the gloves from her hands once again, unclasping her cloak. A little chill was nothing compared with being allowed to show off a little.

"You will get cold!" he warned, more than a little surprised at her boldness, even as he held out his arms to accept her gloves and cloak and keep them safe for her while she indulged her own sense of freedom.

"Then you will just have to warm me up before you deliver me back to your mother, won't you?" she pointed out, handing over her cloak and gloves, and hooking her over-skirt up into the loop of her belt. She rubbed Leopold's long nose warmly, introducing herself to the tall stallion before making a very creditable attempt to get into the saddle. Unfortunately, long heavy skirts and a horse that was at least two foot taller than she was used to were not helping her in that respect.

He couldn't help but chuckle as she attempted to mount the huge beast all on her own, his arms occupied by her cloak and her gloves. "Do you require help, Highness?" he asked, unable to hide the teasing tone from his voice. Of course, he had every intention of helping her, but he wanted her to have to ask him for it, only because it amused him to hear her to do when she was being so very independent.

Huffing with frustration, she swept a fallen curl from her face and turned to look at him with clearly teasing sweetness. "Oh, please, my lord and master, could you assist me in mounting your noble steed?" she asked innocently, even dropping a brief curtsey, blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Ah, well, since you've asked so nicely," he replied, hooking her cloak over a branch for a moment and tucking her gloves into his belt, he stepped forward, leaning down to cup his hands together and offer her a boost upwards into the saddle.

Once again, he got more than a fair glimpse of her stockings as she giggled, hitching her skirt to her knee to set her foot into his cupped hands. To be fair, she mounted smoothly with just a little help, though her legs were too short to fit into the stirrups hanging down. "Thank you, my lord."

"My pleasure, my lady," he replied with a low sweeping bow, just to add to her enjoyment. "Now, if you wish, he is yours to command." He leaned close to the horse and whispered conspiratorially, just loud enough that she could overhear him. "Go easy on her, Leo, my friend. She may be impertinent, but she is still a lady."

Having the freedom to tease and be teased was a novelty for his young bride to be, openly evidenced by how easily her laugh could be drawn from her with just a little play-acting. His whisper to the horse only made her laugh harder. "A princess, if you please, your highness," she reminded him with a warm giggle, gathering the reins into her hands. "Now, Leo, let us see if we can frighten your preposterous master here, shall we?"

With a gentle touch to the reins, she turned the stallion away just enough to keep Stephan out of danger, and dug her heels into just the right place. The white horse reared, pawing at the air, thumping back down with a prance to his step as Marianne praised him. She hadn't ridden a warhorse since she was a child, but some things you never forgot.

"I stand corrected, your Highness," he replied with a grin, flourishing her with another courtly bow, well practiced, if not very useful. The grin disappeared from his face quickly when she dug her heels into the horse, causing him to rear. His face went white, alarmed that the horse might throw her when he realized she had done it on purpose, but whether it had been to scare him or just for the sheer joy of it, he wasn't quite sure. He only knew his heart was thumping harder in his chest for fear she might get hurt. "Be careful, would you!" he called to her, stepping back out of her way when he realized she was better schooled in riding than she had claimed.

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:49 EST
His only answer was a joyful laugh as she urged the horse into a canter, circling the dell with its waters once, twice, before drawing the creature to a gentle halt beside Stephan. Her smile was bright and open as she looked down at him. "Have you seen enough, your highness, or should I perhaps seek an open road to gallop along?"

"I have seen enough to know that you are as skilled as myself with a horse," he admitted, not unhappily so. He loved riding and to know that she shared that interest pleased him immensely. "I wonder what else you are not telling me," he said, plucking her cloak from the tree branch where he'd left it for safe keeping. "What is your desire, my lady?" he asked as he turned back, happy to let her have the reins a while longer, if so desired.

Perhaps it had been the freedom to ride his beautiful horse, or perhaps she was finally beginning to relax in his company, but Marianne startled even herself with her answer to his query. "If I could have any desire, my lord, it would be to taste your lips once more," she heard herself say, blushing at her own boldness.

He arched a brow, pleasantly surprised by the boldness of her statement. "I would be only to happy to fulfill that desire, but alas, you are there, and I am here," he pointed out with a feigned look of sadness on his face, pouting like a boy as he looked up at her from the ground.

"How, then, do we remedy such an awful circumstance?" she asked him, surprised by her own playfulness. Indeed, she felt more comfortable with Stephan than she had with any other. "Should you rise, or shall I fall?" Either one would put her in his arms, though a kiss would be difficult if he were mounted behind her.

"I think perhaps you should come down," he said, stepping forward to help her once again from the horse. He tossed her cloak over his shoulder so that it did not get in the way, her gloves still tucked into his belt. "If I may, my lady," he said, extending both arms to help her from the horse, as he had before.

"You may." Drawing her leg over the horse's neck carefully, she slide down into Stephan's grasp, feeling once again that sweet longing rise as she found herself gazing into his eyes, his hands firm at her waist. "I trust you are not displeased with my riding skill?"

"You have yet to displease me, Marianne. I do not think it is possible," he said, as he set his hands at her waist to lift her from the horse and set her firmly on the ground.

A mirthful sound escaped her lips; not quite a laugh, but something close to it. "I am sure it is possible," she assured him. "I am certain to make many mistakes at court over the season before we are sent on progress, and then far more. But perhaps, if I am with child by that time, your people will forgive me for being a Frank."

"My people will come to adore you, I'm sure of it," he said, stopping himself before he made a fool of himself again and spoke of his own burgeoning feelings, like a heartsick schoolboy. As far as the matter of a child went, well, only time would tell, but if the passion generated by their kisses was anything to go by, it seemed likely she would be with child before very long. "I believe you asked for a kiss," he teased.

Reassured by his words, even if she knew he was hoping for something that was by no means guaranteed, her softer smile reappeared, slender fingers gripping the cloth of his sleeves as she leaned a little into him. "I believe I did," she confessed, embarrassed by her bold wish so openly expressed but brave enough not to retract it.

He tugged the cloak from his shoulder and drew it about her shoulders before she caught a chill, settling it ever so gently around her. "You are full of surprises, Marianne. You are a true wonder to behold."

Something she couldn't quite define tugged at her heart as he drew her cloak over her shoulders once again, touched by the solicitude of such an action. It seemed to convey his insistence that she was something to be cherished and protected, something he would treasure, drawing up the softness of her young heart to him once again. "I should be dull indeed, if I had nothing more to offer than my face and a fine needle."

Not to mention her womb, but he let that go without voicing it. To the court and the nation and perhaps even his parents, she was the hope for the continuation of the royal line, but to him, she was so much more. She was his future and the future of the entire nation, and at that moment, though she might not know it, she held his heart in her hand. "You have so much more to offer than that, and I look forward to knowing you better," he told her, wishing he was better with words, wishing he could share all the hopes and dreams he held in his heart, but there would be plenty of time for that later. For now, it was just about a kiss - their third. "I am merely a soldier, Marianne. Nothing more, nothing less. A solider who will one day wear a crown."

"If I am more than the sum of my parts, then you are far more than merely a soldier," she argued softly. "From all I have heard of you, and all I have seen and learned, I know that you are a good man, with a kind heart and a wise mind. Even if you were the lowest birthed peasant, you would stand above us, and I would long to be your wife."

He frowned, the kiss seemingly forgotten, at least for a moment. There was something else she needed to understand about him, something that he had only just hinted at.

"There is blood on my hands, Marianne. I have killed countless men and only because they were not waving a Pomeran flag, because they are not content to stay within their own borders. They shed the blood of innocents and claim it to be their false god's will. The church demands we dole out retribution for those who have been wronged, and yet, does that make us any better than them, I wonder" We are taught that all life is sacred, but I have sinned, Marianne. I have taken the lives of men, of boys, in the name of the High King and the Church. I ask you then, how can I be a good and just king" How can I bring peace to all our nations without more lives being lost' I cannot. And so, I say again, it is a soldier you see before you, but a soldier with a heart that aches for every drop of blood shed. Does that make me weak" Does it make me a fool to grieve for my enemies' lives" For their mothers and their widows and their children?"

She listened, calm and quiet, to this confidence he gave her - the first of many, she hoped, deeply moved that he felt comfortable enough in her presence to begin so soon. Her chilled fingers gently touched his cheek as she answered.

"You are no fool," she said softly. "And any man who sheds blood without a thought for the lives he is touching with a single stroke is no better than a murderer in the street. Yet the blood you have shed was in defense of those countless others who would have been cut down had you not acted as you did. It is grievous to take a life, but better that life taken than the innocents lost who would have fallen to that man's sword, or to the unheeding greed of the heretic council. A good and just king does not simply give commands without thought for the people those commands will affect, just as you do not bear the blood on your hands without pain for the loss others feel. You are a good man, Stephan. I would think less of you if you did not feel some pangs for those who are left behind, but the guilt should not linger. You have the power and influence to see to the well-being of at least some of those mothers and widows and children. I do not believe you will not use it for their betterment."

Marianne

Date: 2014-12-23 11:50 EST
"I can certainly try. Whether or not I succeed is another matter," he admitted with a small sigh. but this was not what she had asked for. She had not asked for a confession, but for a kiss. How was it she had drawn such a confession from him so easily and effortlessly when he had not yet given his confession in church' She seemed to understand him better than he could have hoped for, but then she was a princess - the daughter of a king herself who had no less blood on his hands for reasons similar to his own. "I'm sorry," he found himself saying. "I should not be burdening you with such things as this."

"It is no burden if I can help to ease your mind somehow," she told him softly, drawing her thumb over the fine bone of his cheek as she gazed up at him. "If we are to be one, in all things, then surely this is a part of it, also. One place where you can speak freely and without fear of your words being taken as law or some contrary action against some ally, and that one place should be in my company. I have not such weighty confessions to make, but I hope that I may help with yours, though all I can do is listen."

"You do so much more than listen," he told her, his voice barely a whisper, so moved was he by her gentle words. "You truly are a treasure, my lady, and one I hope to keep near me all the days of my life." There was the kiss at last that he'd promised her, slow and soft and gentle as a summer breeze, yet full of hope and promise and passion.

Unconstrained this time by eyes watching or the muddling rise of tenderness from her heart, finally Marianne learned to answer his kiss with her own, allowing instincts she had believed would only be awakened in her marriage bed to take the lead and draw her onward. She breathed him in, taking into herself every burden, every pain, all those things that weighed so heavily on his heart, and returned only sweetness, the soft assurance that she would grow to love him all the days of their life. The fingers that had been restless against his cheek dared to tease their way into his hair as her lips parted beneath his, gently grasping the soft curls he had so little control over as she allowed herself to press closer, wanting nothing more than to please him, and in doing so, perhaps please herself.

The kiss seemed to have awakened something in her. He felt a difference in her kiss, in the way she cleaved to him, the way her fingers found their way into his hair, the breathless way her lips parted from his, while her body pressed closer. Perhaps she was only growing in confidence, but something had changed. He could feel the change between them, as if there was some kind of charge between, some kind of inexplicable warmth. His heart ached to feel her touch him like that again and again, to feel her warm body close to his, to kiss her again and again until they were all out of breath, but it was getting late, and he had promised to have her back long before dark. "Marianne..." he whispered her name like a prayer to heaven, like she was the only angel who could save him from himself. He traced her cheek and touched her lips, in awe of the gentle creature before him, so grateful that she belonged to him and not some other man. "We should be going," he said, his voice full of regret at having to return.

She almost pouted at the regretful reminder that their time truly was not their own, longing to stay and learn more of this soft hopefulness that had risen between them with confidences and kisses. But she, like him, knew her duty, and knew, too, that there would be no way to avoid scandal should they not return in timely fashion. Lips tingling from his touch, she smiled, sighing softly. "So we should," she agreed, her own voice quiet with longing for it not to be so. Just a few more days, she told herself, and we will have the leisure to learn one another better.

He drew her gloves from his belt where he'd put them for safekeeping and reached for her hands, one at a time, to slip them back in place. "Your hands are freezing," he told her as he pulled them onto her fingers, as gently as one might a child. He, too, was reluctant to leave, but in a matter of just a few days, they'd have all the time in the world.

She laughed quietly, her gaze flickering between the gentle hands that slipped her gloves back into place, and the handsome face she was growing deeply attached to. "The cold was worth it, to touch you," she offered in a soft tone, blushing once more at her own boldness in sharing such a thought.

He raised a gloved hand to his lips to press a kiss to the tips of her fingers, his gaze meeting hers. "You flatter me, lady," he told her, not quite sure what to say to that. He longed to touch her, as well, but he knew he could not risk tarrying much longer if they wanted to get back before dark.

"It is not flattery if it is the truth," was her quiet answer, blue eyes quietly solemn as she looked up at him. The tip of her gloved forefinger stroked daring over his lips before she drew her hand back. "We should return," she murmured reluctantly. "Though I could wish for a chance to run away with you, if only for a little while."

He chuckled at the thought at that, knowing his mother, if not his father, would have his head. "And deprive the nation of a royal wedding?" he asked. "We would never hear the end of it." The horse snorted and tossed his head, as if to remind them that he was still there and he was getting hungry for some oats.

She blushed rose once again, though the color stayed high in her cheeks thanks to the cold air that surrounded them. "Perhaps some other time, when they are not so anxious for public spectacle, then," she suggested shyly through her smile, glancing back at the horse with a fond cast to her gaze. "I think perhaps Leopold has a wish to return to his warm stable."

"Perhaps Leopold is a little too self-important," Stephan said with a smirk, to which the horse snorted again, as if he knew he was being talked about. "Come, before it gets dark," he told her, waiting until she was ready for a boost back up onto the horse so they could make their way back to the castle before his father sent out a search party.

Back to the pomp and circumstance of the Pomeran court; back to the always watchful eyes of ambassadors and nobles; back to the enforced separation that was intended to keep scandal from overhanging their marriage bed. As Marianne curled herself tight to Stephan's back once again, she found herself praying that no delays would come to them. The sooner she was wife to the wonderful man in her arms, the better it would be, for everyone.