Topic: Reunited

Brynhilde

Date: 2016-08-19 23:48 EST
June 17th, 1616

Cluaine Mor, dual city of a dual country, chosen capital of the new monarchy, rose above the plains of Carib with a stately sort of majesty. It was certainly a welcoming sight to the small party from Pomerania - to the as-yet-uncrowned King of Carib and his select few who were prepared to make the journey as fast as was physically possible, with the rest of their party following a week behind them. The Horse Lords of Carib had met Henry when his ship docked in Seanport, one tribe selected personally by the Archon himself to escort the new king along the trade route to the city that straddled north and south of his new kingdom.

It had been a long journey on horseback, ten days of sleeping in tents and traveling in the growing summer heat, but finally they had arrived. Cluaine Mor rose above them, its pinnacle the castle restored for the use of the monarch and government. Down here, a wide avenue stretched out toward them, and along it came several horses, their riders difficult to distinguish. All but one, whose white-blonde hair fairly shone in the sunshine as she took the lead. Brynhilde, Queen of Carib and soon to be his wife, was coming to greet them personally, with a crowd forming in the streets behind her, eager to get their first glimpse of their new king beside the queen they had come to embrace as their own.

The future King of Carib didn't feel very kingly, but then, he hadn't felt much like an Earl either, despite the bloodline that said otherwise. And yet, six months had changed him, even if he didn't realize it. He had worked hard to learn the language, the customs, the history, and the politics of the place he was supposed to be ruling, though he believed it was really the Queen who'd be in charge, not a man who'd been raised a commoner. He'd do everything in his power to help, but he didn't care much for power or wealth. His main concern was for his betrothed, and beyond that, for the welfare of the people.

Despite his insecurities and self-doubts, he was anxious to see her again. He had missed her all these months, and her absence had only made him realize how much he really cared for her. He had cherished every letter, and now that they were about to be re-united, he felt both nervous and excited. But he had learned to remain composed in public, and to try to give off a regal manner, even if he didn't feel worthy. He was not king yet, and the people would be hoping for a strong but just and kind king.

On horseback beside him, Thomas Montague grinned at his friend as the party from the city approached. "Try smiling," he suggested out of the corner of his mouth. "You look constipated. She's probably as eager to see you as you are to see her, at least try not to look like you're going to implode with pomposity."

"I'm trying to look regal," Harry replied, as quietly as he could, but he took his friend's advice and offered a smile, not only to the party that was on its way to meet them, but also to the crowd surrounding them. As for his appearance, he looked kingly enough, as he sat straight and tall upon his horse. A handsome, healthy, young man, as opposed to the king they'd lost recently to old age.

"Just looking like yourself will do," his friend advised, schooling his own expression as the other party drew near. With a gentle touch to his reins, his horse backed up a couple of steps, leaving Henry out front to greet them alone.

Brynhilde drew her own mare to a halt in front of him, her own smile far less schooled than their tutors might have wished for. She had missed Henry far more than she could ever have imagined, longing to slide off her horse and throw her arms about him for the first time. But there was protocol to follow. "Welcome to Carib," she said, the warmth in her voice surprising her companions, it seemed. The numbness that had held her in its grip since she had learned of the death of her father seemed to have fallen away in the presence of the man she loved. "May I present the Archon of the Horse Lords, Domnall MacTeer?"

The man who drew his horse forward at her invitation was huge; bare-chested, heavily armed and very well muscled. He was also soft-spoken, as evidenced once his horse had bowed to Henry. "You are very welcome among us, my king."

Harry didn't notice the man at first, as his attention was focused entirely on Brynhilde, who seemed even more beautiful than he remembered. Her smile was as bright as sunshine, and though he, too, longed to take her in his arms and show her how much he'd missed her, he knew it would have to wait until they were away from prying eyes.

"I am happy to be here," he replied, doing his best to contain himself, though the tone of his voice and the look on his face told her more than those few words. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary before turning to acknowledge the man at her side. "Thank you for the welcome, Archon MacTeer, but I am not the king just yet," he told the man, quietly enough that only those who were very close by would hear him. To the crowd, it would merely appear they were exchanging pleasantries. Harry couldn't help but notice the size of the man, feeling a little scrawny in comparison, but he was confident enough of Bryn's feelings not to be jealous.

"Neither was she the queen when we accepted her as our ruler," the Archon pointed out, jerking his head toward Brynhilde. "We won't make you fight our champion to prove your worth. You have her love; you're more than worthy of your title." He drew his horse back, clicking his tongue, and the riders around Bryn began to rearrange themselves, forming into an escort, mingling with Henry's own escort.

Brynhilde herself drew her mare to the side of his stallion. "Are you ready to enter Cluaine Mor, dear heart?"

What the Archon said was true, but Harry wasn't going to point that out. While it was a relief not to have to prove himself worthy, he wouldn't really feel like a king, until he had proved his worth to himself. "I hope I can prove myself worthy in other ways, as well," he told the man, before the Archon drew his horse back to form an escort. Harry moved his horse up to meet Bryn's and fall into pace alongside her. "As ready as I'll ever be, I wager," he replied, with a warm smile that belonged to her alone.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly, sharing his smile. Then they began to move, horses walking at a comfortable pace to traverse the winding avenue up to Caislean Dha, the castle above them, through the crowd that had turned out to greet their soon-to-be king. Henry's name was among the shouts and cheers as they passed into the city, mingled with Brynhilde's. "I knew they'd love you the moment they saw you," she told him beneath the sound of the crowd around them. Glancing back a moment, she leaned toward him a little. "The men riding with us ....the older man is Bradan, the chancellor. Loyal to the crown, and therefore to us. The younger is Ailan, one of the newest barons. It was his father who tried to poison me by his own hand, and his brother who saved my life. He's the only man at court that I trust with my life and yours."

"I'm glad, too," he replied back, more because he missed her than anything else. He turned to acknowledge the crowd with a smile and a wave of a hand, but they only cheered louder. He then followed her gaze momentarily behind them to match a face with a name. "It seems you've made quite an impression on them," he said, turning back around.

Brynhilde

Date: 2016-08-19 23:48 EST
"The nobles don't trust me," she told him, using the cover of the crowd's noise to share this with him. "And I don't blame them - I did personally execute three of them. They want to trust you, though. They think you'll keep me under control." She flickered a faint grin in his direction, raising her own hand to acknowledge the cheering around them.

"They don't even know me," Harry pointed out, even as he smiled to the crowd, a hint of uncertainty in his expression, though so faint it was likely only Bryn would notice. "As I understand it, you didn't have any choice." Hopefully, the other nobles would learn from the mistakes of those who'd paid with their lives.

"You're a man, and related by blood to the High King," she pointed out, trying to reassure him. "More than that, you're a good man. If you won't trust in yourself, trust me. You can do this, Harry."

Her reassurance and belief in him came as no surprise, but she was the one who'd waited her whole life to be queen. "Yes, well ....Perhaps we can do this together," he told her, reaching for her hand in full view of both the crowd and their escort, leaving one hand on the reins to guide his horse. At least, he could do that without much trouble.

"Together," she promised him. The sight of their new king taking his soon to be queen's hand so warmly whipped the crowd into a frenzy, sheer delight in their new monarchy almost overwhelming. Brynhilde laughed at their exuberance, even as their escort moved just that little bit closer. "We should probably save this until we're out of sight," she suggested to Henry as the pace of their little promenade picked up in response to the cheering all around them.

He smiled in reply to her remark, but couldn't help but touch a brief kiss to the back of her hand before letting go. He had a feeling it would incite more cheering, but it might also help endear them to the people. If the smile on his face wasn't enough to indicate his feelings, there could be no mistaking that kiss.

"If you two are quite done, we should get inside the castle before you're ripped apart by your adoring public," a voice spoke up from behind them - the Archon, who had gone from benign to high alert, unsettled by the agitation of the people.

"At least we know we'll need better security for the wedding day," Thomas added from beside him, resulting in a snort of laughter from the Horse Lord.

Laughing, Bryn squeezed Harry's hand. "All right, gentlemen, we're almost there."

Harry couldn't imagine how an adoring public could be a bad thing, but he trusted the Archon's judgment. He'd just as soon save his affection for his bride until they were alone, but he didn't think it would hurt to show both nobles and commoners that this marriage would be more than just a political one.

With the shouts of the crowd still ringing in their ears, they reached Caislean Dha safely enough, to be welcomed by the court itself. The official presentation of the new king would have to wait until Henry was crowned, of course, but that didn't stop the barons in particular from welcoming him with a certain sense of formal relief. Yet it was clear to everyone that the young couple wanted to be alone, and so their wish was granted sooner than might have been anticipated.

After a separation of just a few minutes, to allow them both to wash the dust of the road from hands and faces, the door to Henry's temporary suite opened to admit Brynhilde. Tired, bittersweet Brynhilde, who wasted no time in rushing to wrap her arms around him for the first time. "I've missed you so."

Harry endured the welcome, though he was obviously tired from the long journey and anxious to reacquaint himself with his betrothed after being apart for so long. By the time he'd freshened up, he was so excited, his stomach was in knots. Did she still love him' Was she happy he'd joined her at long last' Had she missed him as much as he'd missed her" He'd read every letter more than once, trying to imagine her face and her voice in his mind. Whatever worries he'd imagined evaporated as soon as she rushed into his eager embrace. "I've missed you, too," he told her, hugging her close.

Her cheek pressed against his, she held on tightly, fighting not to cry on him. For months, she had been alone, isolated from everyone around her, and now, finally, he was here. She wasn't alone anymore. It was almost too much to take in. He was as handsome as she remembered; as warm and easy to be with as she had first found him almost a year before. "I was so afraid you might change your mind, that you might decide not to come after all," she confessed, finally drawing back just far enough to look him in the eye, her hand curling to his cheek. "I've been holding onto you for so long, Harry."

He knew it had been harder on her than it had on him. After all, she'd had to travel to a strange land, where she knew no one and endure marriage to a man she might have respected but didn't love. She'd had to prove herself to a hostile court, survive murder attempts, and assert her authority as queen to dispatch those responsible. He'd had things relatively easy, in contrast. While he'd enjoyed a court surrounded by family and friends, she had been utterly alone, but no more. "Why would I change my mind?" he asked, as she drew away from him, taking a moment to look her over as closely as she did him. "I made a promise, and I keep my promises. I'm not sure what kind of a king I'll make, but I promise to at least be a good husband. I've missed you, Bryn. More than I can say."

"You will be a great king," she promised him fervently. Close to, he could see the dark circles under her eyes that betrayed how little she was sleeping, the puffiness that suggested tears often shed, the paleness of her skin after months spent without him. "I'll help you, and so will Lord Thomas, and Baron Bradan, and Domnall. We won't let you fail, dear heart." Her fingers stroked against his cheek, burrowing into his hair as she gazed hungrily on the face she had been dreaming of for months. "I should have told you before I left. I love you, Harry. I think I have since we first met."

Her never-ending belief in him touched him, as always, but it was almost forgotten as she changed the subject to that of love. He was not so much surprised to hear she loved him, as he was to hear that she had loved him for so very long. Her letter had said as much, though not quite so bluntly. He wasn't sure he'd loved her from the very first time they'd met, but he certainly had been attracted to her, and it hadn't been long before the thought of her had tugged at his heartstrings. "Are you sure it's not just the distance that's made you feel that way?" he asked, wanting to be sure, though it would hardly change things.

She stared up at him, a fierce warrior women brought low by her own heart, struggling to decide which words were the right ones to convince him that she knew her own feelings to be true. "If this is not love, Harry, then I will never love anyone," she heard herself say. "I dream of you at night. When something makes me laugh, I catch myself turning to find you, to share it with you. When my ..." Her voice caught in her throat, tears glistening in her eyes. "When my father died, it was you I cried out for. Please don't doubt me now, Harry."

"I don't doubt you," he said, quick to reassure her, catching her hands between his own. "It is only my own feelings of unworthiness that trouble me. I have missed you these past months, and I have worried whether I am worthy of your love, but you should know that I would not change things for all the world, Bryn. Not because I covet power and wish to be king, but because I, too, have grown to love you. Even surrounded by family and friends, I have been lonely without you. I am sorry about your father. I wish I could have been here for you, but I am here now, and I will be here so long as you wish me to be."

Brynhilde

Date: 2016-08-19 23:49 EST
"Then wed me," she told him softly. "Sit the throne beside me. Help me forge this land into a strong one; a place our children will be proud to call their homeland. I need you, Harry. I cannot be strong all alone. I was strong to protect an old man who could not have stood against his barons even if he had the wits to do it. But a queen alone ....I have no one to be weak with."

"I have already agreed to marry you, Bryn. To become both husband and king. Do you really think I would have come all this way to change my mind now?" he asked, hoping she did not doubt him anymore than he doubted her. "You are not weak. You are the strongest woman I know," he assured her - even stronger than his sister, though in different ways. "You are not alone, love. Not anymore. Not so long as I am by your side," he told her further, smiling softly before leaning close to touch an almost shy kiss to her lips.

The shyness in that kiss tasted sweet to her, a trembling touch of lip to lip that had been six long months in the making and half a world away for all that time. And she, too, was shy; this was a dance she did not know, a skill she had never acquired, yet it was something she had longed for on many lonely nights. "I will never leave you," she promised him in a low whisper as their lips parted, barely a moment apart before she pressed into his arms, claiming another kiss, and another, starving for his affection.

He took her into his arms and kissed her, shyly, awkwardly at first. He had never kissed another woman the way he was kissing her, and he had certainly never loved anyone the way he loved her. Though they were young, he did not doubt the promise she returned to him, nor did he question her further. Her kisses were doing things to his body he had never imagined, as well as his heart, and it took all his self-control to pull himself away from her starving kisses, if only for a moment. "When?" he asked, kissing her again before pausing to catch his breath. "When can we be wed?" he asked, impatient now that he was there and knew that they share the same feelings.

Breathless, she clung to him, unwilling to let him step away too far, despite knowing that she could probably not be trusted to restrain herself. Thankfully Gerda was listening at the door; she, at least, could be trusted to "accidentally" interrupt if she felt it was necessary. "Ten days," she breathed to Henry, just as impatient as he was, eager to be married to someone she loved, someone who loved her. "Elspeth will be here in a week, her ship was sighted two days ago. She will already be on the road with the horse lords." "Ten days," he echoed, with a sigh. Not so long when they'd been waiting half a year or more. "I shall try to be patient," he told her, a soft smile on his face. He would have to do more than try. He made no attempt to move away from her, more than happy to hold her as long as she wanted, though he'd have to be careful not to overstep the boundaries that were in place for her protection. They would be married before long, and those boundaries would be no more.

"If we are married sooner, then you will have to explain to your sister why she could not see it happen," Bryn reminded him, feeling herself smile a true smile for the first time in almost a month. She felt relaxed with Henry finally there, finally able to hold her; relaxed and happy, no longer so tightly on edge as she had been for so long. "Because I will crown you the moment we are made man and wife, too. She would miss it all."

"She would never forgive me," Harry remarked, knowing his sister well enough to know that. He knew she had mixed feelings about leaving Pomerania, but he also knew she would miss them both too much if she were not to join them. "I would have brought her with me, but I thought it would be better for her to wait until the weather improved."

"The trade winds certainly improved," Bryn nodded in agreement. "The journey that took you two weeks by ship only took her nine days." Her fingertips traced down his cheek as she leaned into him, drawing in a deep breath as she stepped back to draw him over to the window, where they could sit together. "Domnall's own clan were chosen to meet and escort her. No harm will come to her, Harry, I promise you. They may seem rough, but they are good people."

"The Archon seems a ....formidable man," Harry said, pausing a moment to search for the right word. He joined her at the window, taking her hand as he sat down beside her, glad for the respite and her quiet companionship.

Toying with his hand between her own, Bryn's smile gentled, understanding how intimidating Domnall MacTeer must seem to him. "He is a product of his own culture," she assured Harry quietly. "He has been riding and breaking horses since he was a child; a warrior of his clan from the day he first lifted a sword. He won the leadership of his clan through battle, and the title of Archon the same way. In seven years, there will be another Archon chosen. He has this small space of time to influence the world we live in, and he has chosen to support us, to accept us and renew the treaty that the north has neglected so terribly over the past generations. His wife is tougher than me."

He chuckled a little at her judgment of herself. She was, indeed, a formidable warrior, but she was also a woman with all the softness that made her such. "Should I be glad I have never seen that side of you, Bryn?" he teased, glad she was his ally and not his enemy. The same could be said for the Archon, he supposed.

"If you ever do see that side of me, it will be defense of you and our family, our people," she promised him, laughing at little at how comfortable he was to tease her. "Or, perhaps, if you ever ask me to teach you how to wield an axe." Blue eyes sparkling, she inched closer, touching a kiss to his cheek. "But you must tell me what your winter has been like, how your family is. I've missed hearing you talk."

"I have learned a little about fighting since you've been away, but I'm afraid all I can use an axe for is chopping wood." He wasn't asking exactly, but he wouldn't deny her if she wanted to teach him. He wondered, though, if there was anything he could teach her. "There's not much to tell that I haven't shared in my letters," he told her, though his letters had not gone into very much detail.

"But they were letters," she told him. "A letter cannot show me the animation in your face as you talk to me, or impress upon me what, of all your news, matters the most to you. Just talk to me, Harry."

And so he did, telling her the news of Jane and Felipe's wedding and how happy they both were that the king had granted their wish. He told her of the triplets born to Stephan and Marianne and how delighted the whole court was with the births, as well as the proud parents. He told her of the winter spent at Peronell with his cousins and of all he had learned, in readiness to join her here and accept the mantle of king. And he told her how much both he and Elspeth had missed her and how lonely he had been without her, despite the companionship of his sister and cousins. And lastly, he spoke of Elspeth and of his hope that she, too, would one day find love and happiness, as he had with Bryn.

Brynhilde

Date: 2016-08-19 23:50 EST
In her own turn, Bryn spoke to him of her adventures since they had parted. Of her appalling seasickness that had made her doubt her ability even to survive the journey; of her first meeting with the Horse Lords, and her defeat of their chosen champion; of her strange wedding night with an old man who had not even risen from his bed to crown her. She told him of the barons' rebellion against her, of the one who had tried to poison her and his own son who had died to save her life; of the battle on the plain outside the old capital, and the executions that had earned her the distrust of the nobility here.

But she also spoke of the friends she had made - of the Archon who treated her as a sister, Baron Bradan who had given her his loyalty from the first, the newly-made Baron Ailan who had stood with her against his own father, and of old King Peter, who had been so kind to her in his last months in their world. Yet through it all was the same chord of loneliness, the same longing to be with Henry, to rekindle her friendship with his sister, and her deep joy that he was here with her now. As for his sister's happiness, well ....

"No one will force her hand here," she promised him. "But I cannot promise that we will not need her to make some match. I will swear to you that we will not allow her to wed any man who is not worthy of her."

The story of her winter was far more dramatic than his and far more difficult. While he was with family and friends, celebrating both a birth and a marriage and readying for his journey here, she was fighting for survival and to prove herself worthy of the crown. In the end, though, they had both made some friends and they had both shared that same loneliness and longing for the other. "I worry for her," Harry admitted, when the topic of conversation turned to that of his sister. It was no secret how close the two siblings were or that he loved her more than anyone, save the woman beside him.

"What worries you?" she asked him gently, still holding onto his hand. It was almost as though she did not dare let go of him now he was here, as though he might disappear if she let him leave her side. "Let me help, if I can. She is my sister now, too, and very easy to love."

He was not quite sure where to begin, but there were worry lines on his face when he thought of his sister. It was not just that Elspeth would be expected to wed, but that he was worried she would not be happy here, so far from home. And then, there was the tragedy of their mother's death and the terror that had caused it. He rarely spoke of that day or of what had followed, but he knew it still affected his sister in ways he could not imagine. "She is a gentle creature, my sister, and she has endured much hardship." While it was true even Brynhilde had endured her own share of hardship and tragedy, Elspeth was not trained in the ways of war, and he knew she went to great pains to hide her troubles from him.

Bryn watched him as he groped for the words he wanted, tilting her head to catch his eyes as her own frown echoed his in thoughtful confusion. "The way you say hardship ....it sounds almost as though she has been harmed in some way," she said carefully. "And you fear her marriage to a man who will not respect her gentle nature." There was a pause as she put this together, horror and anger mingling in her expression as the war-like woman he was soon to marry showed him a glimpse of the warrior that had lead men into battle. "Who is he, and was he punished?"

Harry frowned as Bryn put the pieces together, without him having to explain a thing. "He's dead. He was executed, but that will not change what happened. What they did to my mother, my sister." There was a hint of anger in his eyes, but mostly worry and sorrow. What had been done to him was nothing compared to what his mother and sister had suffered. "Please don't let her know that you know." He glanced around the room, almost out of fear that someone might overhear them and pass along gossip before Elspeth even arrived.

"I won't," she promised him, squeezing his hand firmly. "And knowing this, I will not allow her to become meat on the marriage market. They may flirt with her, they may flatter her, but if any one of them dares to play with her feelings or her form, I will make it very clear that they are not welcome here."

"I would have liked to have killed him myself, but ..." He shrugged, turning his gaze to their clasped hands. "I should have been there. I should have protected them, but ..." There was that but again. Was it any wonder he felt unworthy when he had been unable to protect his own family"

"Tell me all of it," she asked him softly. "No one should have to carry a burden of guilt like this, Harry, and certainly not alone. I know the worst of it - now tell me the rest. Let me help you carry some of that guilt." her fingers gently stroked over his knuckles as she spoke. "My father told me something that my mother used to say ....that one of the greatest gifts she had ever given him was the truth about her fears, and the only reason she could give him that truth was because she loved him."

Not only did he blame himself for being unable to protect his family, but for being the cause of it all in the first place. "It was because of me, Bryn. Because of my resemblance to Stephan. They wanted to put me in his place, and they threatened to kill Els if I refused to cooperate." He went on to explain what had happened, worried it might change her feelings for him once he relieved the burden of guilt and shame that had been weighing heavily on his heart for so long. He knew Elspeth and Stephan had forgiven him, but he had not yet forgiven himself. It was his only secret from the woman that would be his wife.

She listened to it all, absorbing the facts along with his sense of guilt and shame, letting him pour it all out to her in his own time. And when he was done, she had a single question for him. "Harry, how could you have protected them?" she asked him pertinently. "At the time, you were nothing more than a commoner, and they were lords. Lords are supposed to be men of honor, men whose word is their bond. They gave you their word that no harm would come to your family - what reason did you have to disbelieve them' And even had you been there, and not so many miles away, what could you have done? You would have died, too, and Elspeth would now be nothing more than a broken whore, discarded to a brothel at the first opportunity."

He knew she was right - of course she was right - but that didn't make it any easier to bear. Still, at least Elspeth was alive and had been spared the shame of what had happened. He could not say the same for his mother. "Lords. They were not lords, so much as Coimbran scum. They got what they deserved, what they had coming to them." If their plot had not been foiled, there was a good chance he'd be dead, along with Elspeth and Stephan and Philippe. He was at least glad of that. He let the anger roll off him a moment, but it was short lived, his expression changing once again as his thoughts circled back to his sister. "I do not know what to do to help her."

Bryn bit her lip, studying him for a long moment. "I think I know what will help her," she said quietly, "but I do not think you will like it." She looked down at their joined hands for a long moment, trying to put the words together in such a way that they would not anger him. "A gentle soul in this world needs a champion to protect her. One already harmed by our brutal world needs that champion to cherish her above all others. You can't be that champion for Elspeth any longer, Harry. I think she needs a husband, someone who will protect her, cherish her, grow to love her as we all have."

Brynhilde

Date: 2016-08-19 23:50 EST
She was right - he didn't like it - and yet, he knew marriage was probably the best thing for his sister. But who' It could not be just anyone. It had to be someone who would care for her, if not grow to love her. Someone who would be patient and understanding, kind and gentle. He could think of no one. "I'm not sure such a husband exists," he replied, frowning doubtfully. Oh, he knew Elspeth was easy to love, but like most brothers, he wasn't sure he trusted anyone to care for her the way he did.

"I think you will be surprised," she predicted gently. "Of all the men I have met here, I could name three that might suit. Older than her, steadier than most we know, and not eager for power. But it is a decision that can wait. Perhaps she will befriend one of them in the days to come. She is in the company of two of them as we speak."

"As long as she is safe. That is what?s important," Harry said, though it was not just her safety that concerned him, but her happiness. He knew he couldn't keep her isolated, like a bird in a gilded cage, nor would she want that, but he didn't want her getting hurt again.

"I highly doubt the Archon's son would allow the King's sister to come to harm," she pointed out to him with a faint smile. "Harry, I'm not suggesting we marry her off within the month. But the longer she lingers as a prize in the eyes of men, the harder it will be to tell who will treat her well and who merely wants the power they see her as holding. These first weeks are critical, while the barons are uncertain of her status among us. As soon as they see how highly esteemed she is by us both, they will begin to court her for their sons, or for themselves, and they will lie to us to try and win our favor."

He arched a brow at the mention of the Archon's son. He had only just met the man, but from what Brynhilde had told him, he seemed like a good man. Hopefully, the son was as honorable as the father. "I do not like the idea of arranging a marriage for her. I would prefer that she has some choice in the matter."

"Some say is what she will have," Bryn assured him. "But do not hold out for love before marriage, Harry. As you say, she is gentle, and gentle people are easily deceived when it comes to their hearts. I have no wish to see her heart broken, along with her body, because she fell for the romance and did not see the man. I would rather see her cherished by a friend who knows her worth. Wouldn't you?"

"I suppose you're right. I'm afraid my judgment is a little clouded when it comes to my sister. I did not wish to leave her behind to follow later, but it could not be helped." He was frowning worriedly again, though he knew his sister was safe and in good hands. "I would keep you both safe, if I could."

Her hand rose to touch his cheek, drawing his gaze to hers once again. "You have held my heart safe these long months, even without knowing it," she reminded him tenderly. "I trust you with everything that I am." Leaning close, she stole another kiss from him - soft and longing and yearning, broken only when she drew back, breathless and smiling. "I do not trust myself to remain virtuous with you, though."

He couldn't help but smile as she eased his mind and soothed his heart with a few tender words and a gentle kiss. He even laughed a little at her remark. "Who will know whether you are virtuous or not but myself?" he asked, though he had no intention of taking advantage of her, especially after what he'd told her about his sister.

"The maids who change the sheets on the morning after our wedding," she said laughingly, releasing his hand to curl her arms around him. "Oh, I have missed you very much, Harry. I have not felt so much myself since I left Berengaria."

He smiled as she wound her arms around him, and he returned her embrace. "I am here now," he assured her once again, his voice gentle.

And now that he was there, right where he wanted to be, right by her side, that was where he intended to stay, whether the nobles liked it or not. Let them play their games of intrigue. Let them speculate and gossip and spread lies about one another. Carib would be whole again, and at its heart would be a monarchy born from their love for one another. The country would never be divided again.