((Warning - contains material of an adult nature.))

8th March, 1617

It was generally agreed that Chancellor Schmaeda had pulled off a minor miracle. Four days after King George Frederick of Carantania announced that he had chosen his bride, the wedding itself was celebrated in the Temple of Carantan. No expense had been spared; from the entertainments to the musicians to the food, nothing had been left to chance. The royal seamstresses, who had been out of work for at least a year, had descended on Riftfell Castle en masse to outfit the soon to be queen with an entirely new wardrobe, keeping the young lady busy with fittings and decisions up until the very last minute. Her stepmother had been with her every step of the way, and despite their occasionally fractious relationship, Serafina knew she owed the woman a debt of gratitude for every decision she was helped through.

Though spring was only newly sprung, the streets of the capital were filled with people, traders' stalls laid out to make the most of the festival feeling as the newly-wedded King and Queen held court in what was usually the festival hall. Eight courses were served at the banquet for the nobility who attended; indeed, even some of the rejected princesses and ladies had accepted the invitation to attend, making the sense of occasion even more intimidating for the new queen. But there was no sign of that wariness right now.

With a candor that had almost offended the official conductor, Serafina had sought permission from her new husband to join the dancing in the square outside the festival hall, and even now, she was skipping merrily through the steps of a dance that most noble houses would consider beneath them, laughing with the common people each time she made a mistake. Her white gown shimmered as she moved, marking her out among the brightly colored clothing of the merchants' and farmers' daughters who danced with her. Even the stuffiest of the nobles had a smile on his face watching the exuberant display, and more than one had passed comment on how lucky the king was to have chosen such a merry bride.

On the steps overlooking the square, the king's throne had been set up to allow him to watch the merriment, and even to join in, if he so chose. Franz leaned on his mace next to his friend and monarch, an indulgent smile on his face. "If I may, sire," he ventured, "if you wish to use the causeway, it should be soon. Otherwise you will be here another hour while we bring the royal barge around to the dock."

Frederick, too, seemed to be enjoying himself, though he had not yet joined in the dancing or revelry, content to watch his new bride win the people's hearts with her youthful exuberance - and perhaps a few noblemen's hearts, as well. He was in no hurry to rush her away, and yet, the bridal bed awaited them at the eventual end of the evening, with all that entailed. If truth be told, Frederick was a little nervous where that was concerned. Though he was experienced enough in that regard, it had been some time since he'd been with a woman, and he knew he had to be gentle. "An hour is not so much longer to wait, is it, Franz?" he asked, reluctant to put an end to his bride's enjoyment of the festivities. He almost wished he was dancing with her, but it didn't seem quite proper. "Lovely, isn't she?" he asked, a smile full of pride and joy lighting his face.

"Indeed, Your Majesty, utterly charming," Franz agreed with him. He'd had the opportunity to get to know the young lady a little in the past few days, glad to find that she had a brain between her ears. He was still ever so slightly smug about inviting her to the fete in the first place, however. "With your leave, sire, I will make arrangements for the barge to be made ready." He bowed, backing up a few steps to do just that as the rousing music abruptly came to a halt, the dancers breathless and laughing. There was a ripple of bowing and curtsying as Serafina left their midst, moving to sit herself down beside her husband, her smile bright and breathless.

The king actually clapped his hands a little as she made her way toward him, having enjoyed watching her almost as much as she seemed to have enjoyed dancing. Wife and queen were words he was still getting used to where she was concerned. "You seem to be enjoying yourself," he remarked, standing to offer her a hand to guide her to the seat beside him.

Heedless of the dust that coated the hem of her gown, Serafina took his hand as he guided her to her place at his side. "I haven't been allowed to dance these dances since I was a child," she admitted laughingly, gratefully accepting a cup of wine that was offered to her. "Not even my father could find a reason for his daughter to know how to dance like a commoner. Will you not join us?"

"I am not so young as I once was, and I fear I might make a fool of myself," he replied with an apologetic smile. While he might have enjoyed dancing with her in private, he was not so sure he wanted to do so with so many there to witness. If she wanted him to dance, she was going to have to convince him. "Franz is arranging for us to travel back to the castle by barge," he told her, adding, "when you are ready."

"Then waltz with me," she pleaded softly, setting her cup down to twist in her seat, capturing his hands between her own as she looked him in the eye. "These people are very fond of you. You should give them something to smile about for your wedding day - something more than how much you've indulged me and my silly ways." She laughed softly. "I will refuse to go back to the castle until you dance with me."

"Waltz," he echoed, eyeing her steadily, as if to warn her that she should not try and trick him into any of the more lively dances that were taking place around them. "I was not aware you were so well schooled in blackmail," he added, with an amused gleam in his eyes.

Her smile was utterly without shame as he eyed her. "I was the only child of a widower for ten years, sire," she reminded him in amusement. "It would reflect poorly upon me if I had not learned how to manipulate him into indulging my whims, would it not?" She giggled, utterly unaware of the way the nobility and commons were watching their king and new queen's every move.

"It would reflect poorly on us both if I fall flat on my face in front of my subjects," he countered, leaning close, that amused smile still on his face. He was vaguely aware of the eyes that were watching them, but he was so accustomed to such things that he hardly noticed. His gloveless hand covered hers, glad he could touch her now without worrying about protocol.

"I would not let you fall," she promised him, leaning close in an unconscious mirror of his own stance. "Besides, I already know you can waltz. We've done it before." Admittedly, it had been a somewhat nerve-wracking affair, that first dance they had shared, but he couldn't pretend he didn't know what he was doing there. If he could guide her around a dance floor with only one hand, he could certainly repeat the feat here and now.

"You wish to repeat our first dance?" he asked - not only their first dance, but their one and only dance. The music would have to change, but all he had to do was ask, and the musicians would play whatever he asked. He sighed, knowing there would be no pleasing her if he did not at least dance with her once. He moved to his feet, offering her a hand to pull her up beside him. "A waltz!" he called to the musicians, as he led her from the makeshift dais. The nobles and commoners alike parted, to allow their king and queen to move among them, clearing them a small space so that they could waltz without fearing of colliding with any of their subjects.

Her smile alive with delight at how easily he had given in to her pleading, Serafina was only too happy to be lead back down the steps and into the center of the square. This was one dance that nobles and commons could both perform. She hoped they would dance with them, but it did not truly matter if they did not. She had her dance with her husband, and this time, there was no taboo against the hand she placed in his, or the gentle rest of her palm against his shoulder.

"I pray I do not disappoint," he whispered as he set one hand against her waist, while taking her hand with the other. He was not only talking about dancing now, but about what awaited them later that evening, and perhaps even in the days ahead. King or not, he did not want to disappoint her in any way, now or in the days to come. There was a certain excitement in being able to touch her like this, closer together than they had ever been thus far, and he found his heart pounding like a schoolboy.

With one arm around her waist and the other taking her hand, Frederick led her onto the barge, which would take them across the causeway, back to the castle that was home. Though it hardly showed, he felt as nervous as a schoolboy with his first infatuation, knowing what awaited them later that night. Once on board, he remained protectively close, waving to those who bid them farewell before turning to face the castle that was their destination and their future.

Thankfully, this particular sea voyage was a relatively short one. It was barely half an hour before they were stepping from the barge onto the royal dock, ushered inside out of the cold by the ladies of the bedchamber and his own valet, separated to be prepared for the evening ahead of them.

So nervous she thought she might be sick, Serafina endured the chattering of the women who had won the right to see to her until her own choices could be made, letting them fuss over her for as long as they considered it necessary. When they were done, she had nothing left to hide behind. The make up was gone, the jewels were gone, the beautiful gown that had been her shield was gone. All that remained was, in her opinion, a little girl in a nightgown too big for her, her black hair braided too tightly for comfort and left to hang over her shoulder as she was lead through the private chambers to the last door separating her from her husband. The knock that was placed on that door sounded too loud in her ears, her fingers fidgeting in and out of the voluminous folds of the nightgown.

Thankfully, Frederick had already banished the valet from his bedchambers in anticipation of the arrival of his new bride. It had taken him far less time to prepare, and he had passed the time by pacing the floor nervously as he waited for her to arrive, a dozen thoughts and worries tumbling through his mind. Would she find him attractive" Desirable, even" Would she be able to overcome her shyness enough to enjoy herself" Would he be able to please her" Would they live as husband and wife, or only as king and queen, in the days to come" So many questions and no answers. More than anything, he didn't want to repeat the mistakes of the past, but make her as happy as she deserved to be. When he opened the door to draw her inside, he found his heart racing with nervous excitement.

The ladies who delivered her to him sank in deep curtsies as the door opened and, unseen by the king, one placed a gentle hand on Serafina's back, giving her a soft push over the threshold and into the king's private bedchamber. She jumped when the door closed behind her, shy and nervous, and perhaps even a little frightened of what was to come. After all, women were not encouraged to enjoy doing their duty, and her stepmother had done her best to make sure she knew not to expect much from the marriage bed. "I would curtsy, sire, but ....I don't think I can and stay upright."

He reached for her hand to draw her inside, slowly and gently despite the soft push. He seemed regal, even stripped down to just his shirt and breeches, but it wasn't so much what he wore as how he carried himself. He had been raised to be a king, after all, but it was not a king who stood before her now, but a husband, eager to please and to love. "No need. You are my wife now, Serafina, and my queen." There was no need for the sire, either, but one thing at a time.

She drew in a slow, shaking breath, letting her fingers tangle with his as she looked up at him. Here, in his own chambers, away from the pomp and circumstance and the ever-watchful eyes, he seemed softer somehow, as though the sharp edges of being a king were somehow sloughed off with the accoutrements he had shed as he waited for her. It was ....encouraging. Encouraging enough that she felt some of her nervousness ease away into a shy smile.

"F-frederick." She hesitated, biting her lip, before daring to take a little initiative. Her hands rose, laying tentative fingers to his jaw as she lifted herself on her toes, touching a trembling kiss to his lips.

He smiled encouragement as she stuttered his name, but it was the tentative, trembling kiss that surprised him, not unpleasantly so. This was the first time tasting her lips, sweet and soft and tender. He did not press her further or try to force himself on her, but kissed her in return, touching her cheek with gentle fingertips as their lips met again.

A tiny sound escaped her, caught in her throat as he touched his kiss to her lips in answer, subtle and sweet and aching with the longing she had not yet been able to voice. As they parted, it seemed to take an age for her eyes to open, her hands held awkwardly between them, hesitant to touch despite it being her right now to do so. "Did I ....was that ....right?"

He smiled again as their lips parted, charmed by her innocence and desire to please. "Yes, that was right," he reassured her, though the kiss had been more gentle and tender than passionate. While there were no wrong ways to kiss really, there were some who were better at it than others. "May I?" he asked, reaching around behind her for the braid of hair.

For a moment, panic flared in her eyes, not certain what it was he was asking permission for. "May you ....oh." The panic faded as his fingers brushed the tight braid, a shy smile lighting up her face as she laughed softly, glancing down. Letting her hands fall to her sides, she nodded. "Whatever you wish."

"Would you mind very much if I undid it?" he asked, wanting to see her with her hair down. The braid was practical enough for sleeping so her hair wouldn't turn into a tangled mess overnight, but this was their wedding night, and he had a strange desire to let her hair loose to spill over her back and shoulders.

"No, I ....I don't mind." She drew in another soft breath, turning to give him access to the thick braid that hung between her shoulders, letting her eyes roam the room. There was a moment of shock when she found herself looking at her own reflection, hastily avoiding her mirror-self's eyes as her fingers fidgeted in and out of her chemise once again. "You may be the only man who ever will see my hair unbound."

Except perhaps for her father, but he was deceased. "It is a husband's privilege, don't you think?" he asked, as he moved around behind her to carefully unwind and loosen her hair from the braid with gentle but deft fingers. It was, in fact, the first time he'd ever dared do so with a woman, though he didn't seem to be having any problem with it. "I suppose it is silly, but I have wanted to touch your hair from the first moment we met."

She couldn't help giggling a little, daring to meet his gaze in the reflection before her as he gently unwound her hair from its confines. "There is certainly enough of it," she pointed out in amusement, and indeed, she was absolutely right in that assessment. When her hair was finally loose, it hung to below her rear in soft waves, shimmering darkly in the candlelight.

He couldn't help but touch the lustrous waves, gently combing it out with his fingers. At least, this was something he could do without making her too nervous or frightened. "Perhaps I could brush it later," he suggested, though that wasn't quite what he wanted to do at the moment. Instead, he turned her to face him and smiled as he admired the view. "You really are quite lovely, Serafina."

"I would like that," she answered his suggestion with a smile, wondering what it would be like to have her hair brushed by a man. He couldn't possibly be any rougher than her maid in Kediri had been. Turned about to face him, she felt her cheeks flush under his admiring regard. "Any woman you chose would be lovely, your - Frederick," she said softly, stumbling over his name once again. "I am sure I am only lovely because I ....because you want me to be."

"But I have not chosen any woman, Serafina. I have chosen you," he pointed out, and it was in good part because of the way she looked. Her resemblance to her mother was what had initially drawn his attention, but it was not solely her beauty that had captured his heart. "Does it bother you to say you are lovely?" he asked, as he reached for her hand and stroked it tenderly between his own.

For a fleeting moment, she remembered the candles she had not snuffed, before gentle movement swept her along, letting him guide her ever closer to the bed that awaited them. Would she had been so compliant, so eager to be lead, with any other" She didn't think so. There was a wildness in this, no matter how gentle his hands were on her person. A wildness she did not think she could trust to anyone but this man, the man who had chosen her, the man she had chosen for herself. His quiet urging made her giggle, feeling the rough tease of his hair between her fingers. When had she taken hold of his hair" "Easy for you to say," she murmured back to him.

He chuckled at her murmured teasing, encouraged by her giggle. At least, she did not seem to be afraid of him. He was glad of that. "You forget that I have not been with a woman in some ....while," he reminded her, though making love was a skill that could never really be unlearned. Still, each woman was different, with her own territory to explore and learn.

"Does it stop working if you don't use it regularly?" The question was blurted out without any thought behind it at all, a sure sign that he had managed to circumvent the drilled manners she executed so seamlessly even when being blunt and bold. "A very silly boy told me that once," she explained herself. "He seemed quite put out when I suggested he should find someone less picky to make sure all his bits kept working."

He chuckled at the thought of that. Perhaps it stopped working when one was very old, but he had not had any problems in that regard. "I suppose we'll find out," he teased back, eyes sparkling with amusement, though he already knew the answer to that question. Everything still worked, as far as he could tell.

"You mean you don't know"" Serafina looked utterly shocked by that, missing the tease in his gaze as her own eyes dropped from his to glance between them. She at least knew where she was supposed to be looking, it seemed, and she realized his tease the moment she registered where her eyes had strayed. Her head snapped up, a fiercely laughing glare pointed straight at him. "You know, I think I do know how to check for you," she offered, her brows high despite the tremble in her voice. "I saw it done once. I don't think she was doing it very well - he made a lot of noise."

He couldn't help but smirk as she glanced between them to the very obvious fact - even beneath his breeches - that his equipment, as it were, was operating perfectly well. "If he was making a lot of noise, then she was doing it right," he countered, leaning in to press his lips against the side of her neck. He slid the chemise down off one shoulder, his lips trailing soft kisses along her neck and down her bare shoulder.

"Was sh- ohhh ..." Her breath ghosted against his ear as his lips began to seduce her, barely aware of the loosening of her neckline until she felt his mouth against her shoulder. She bit down on her own lip, her fingers tightening in his hair as she squeezed her eyes closed, breathing his name back to him with a strange sense of agitation. "Sh-should I ..." She couldn't get the words to leave her lips with any clarity, daring to let one hand slither down his chest to brush her knuckles against the obvious fact of his manhood.

His kisses paused for just a moment when he felt her touch him, his pulse quickening, but he only hesitated for a moment before he was kissing her again. And then he was working the laces of her chemise loose so that he could explore further, unwrapping her like a treasured gift.

The drawn neckline of her chemise gave up the ghost barely moments after he turned his attention to the lacings, losing all resistance under his impatience. Serafina gasped as the loose fabric slid down over both her shoulders, catching at her elbows as she tried to cover herself. Her blush spread well beyond her cheeks, tinting the slender fullness he had uncovered with rose even as she tried to hide herself with all the aplomb of the untouched maiden she was.

"It's all right, Serafina," he assured her, forcing his eyes to meet and focus on hers, rather than wander as he wanted them to. "Let me see you," he urged, as gently as he could. "Don't be afraid." He touched her arms to pull them away from her body, ever so gently, if she would let him, allowing himself to admire the youthful beauty before him.

She was shaking, truly ashamed of herself as she let him slide her arms away, feeling the barrier of her chemise slither down not only from her arms but all the way to the floor, revealing the slender form that belonged to him. Her hands twitched, wanting to cover herself, embarrassed by his regard. The shake of her head as she tore her gaze from his face was enough to bring her hair falling forward, a dark curtain to shield at least some of her shy body from his eyes. But not enough to hide the slender lines, the unblemished skin, the inviting fullness, all cream with the blush of rosebuds for his enjoyment.

He had been with plenty of women before, but none as truly beautiful and pure as this. It seemed almost a shame to ruin that purity, and yet, they were husband and wife now, and he wanted to teach her what that truly meant. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, love," he assured her, remembering what her father had told her. "You are beautiful beyond words, and I promise to be gentle."

She raised her head, but her eyes remained stubbornly closed, as though by blinding herself she could forget that she was standing naked before a man who made butterflies catch fire inside her with just a look. "I feel so exposed," she whispered, catching her lip between her teeth once again.

"Lie back," he told her, easing her back onto the bed and reaching to pull a blanket up over her, which covered her body, and yet, still allowed him to explore. "Try to relax," he instructed further, "and tell me if you'd like me to stop." It would be difficult to stop once they got started, but he was the master of his own body, and he would do what was best for her, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

She squeaked a little when she felt his hands on her, stumbling to the bed under his guidance. If she had felt exposed before, she felt even more so as she lay back, aware of the cool sheets beneath her. And yet, he covered her over. Had he seen all he wanted to see" Was she ....deformed in some way' Opening her eyes, she raised herself up onto her elbow, once more daring to reach out to him. "A-aren't you wearing a little much for this?"

The tiniest of smiles quirked his lips at her question. Though he wasn't particularly shy about undressing, it had been some while since he'd been with a woman, and she was not just any woman. "I suppose I am," he replied, calmly and coolly, though he felt anything but, which would become apparent once he had disrobed. "But first ..." he said, turning his back to move about the room and extinguish each and every candle, leaving the king's bedchambers lit only by the flames flickering in the hearth.

By the time he turned his attention back to her, she was sitting up in the middle of the bed, the blanket held to her chest modestly as she watched him extinguish all lights but that which came from the fire in the hearth. Her shaking seemed to have abated, the rough rush of shy nerves easing as she grew accustomed to where she was, and how she was. "I was going to do that," she pouted, put out by how easy he had found it to distract her from the task she had volunteered for.

"No matter. I thought you might find it easier in the dark," he told her, though why, he wasn't quite sure. Part of it was about creating the right mood, and part of it was about her obvious shyness, which was to be expected, after all. Turning to face her, he tugged his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside to land on a chair. It was hard to get a good look at him, now that they had only the fireplace to see by, but the silhouette he projected as he came closer was that of a solid man with strong shoulders and arms, but not overly muscled, like a knight might be. Still, he was tall and solid and in good shape for a man in his middle years.

She had said she wanted to touch, but did she want to be touched in return" There were no rules or instructions when it came to making love, but there was right or wrong. Her reaction to his kisses was encouraging though, knowing that the more he stoked her fire, the easier it would be for her when the time came for him to take her. He became acutely aware of the warmth and softness of her body against his, the contrast of soft curves to hard angles. He plied her with kisses and soft caresses, his hands moving deftly over those curves, searching, exploring, teasing and tantalizing, until he felt his own body aching with need and desire.

The tremble had returned to her limbs, even as her kisses grew more confident, sharing her breath with him as his ghosting hands drew sounds from her that she was sure no lady should ever make in company. And still it wasn't enough. Nothing seemed to touch the aching fire deep inside, the liquid heat pooling just out of reach. She had never felt anything like it; the barest taste of it had come with their first dance, repeated with stolen touches and warm smiles, but none of that had even hinted that this would be the ending. Close as they were, she wanted to be closer, her legs slithering beneath the blanket until she rose onto her knees, planting herself firmly on his thighs. The shock of what she then realized was pressed against her belly brought an aching gasp to her lips, tearing her mouth from his as she stared into his eyes, wide-eyed and wanting.

He did not want to give her instructions, but perhaps there was no need. Her body would instruct her, tell her what it longed for, or so he hoped. The time for words had passed, but even in the dark, his expression spoke volumes for what he was feeling and there could be no denying his body's desire for her when the proof was so very obvious now that they were so close. "Sera," he whispered, his voice even more raspy than usual, "I need you." Not want, not even desire but need, with every fiber of his being.

Need. Not love, or desire, or want, but need. That was what she felt, too, that over-arcing force that would not be stilled until something happened to satisfy a need. "T-tell me what to do," she whispered back to him, trembling fingers tracing the line of his jaw as her lips brushed his with each word. "I ....I don't know how ..."

Was she really that innocent that she didn't know what to do, even by instinct' He frowned a little, unsure how to explain and needing her so much it was starting to become painful. "It's going to hurt at first," he warned her, "but the pain won't last." He guided her hand to where she had strayed once before, before he'd gotten undressed, telling her without words just how much he wanted her.

The only daughter of an over-protective father who had taught her to wear a dagger in her garter as soon as she began to develop womanly parts ....It shouldn't come as a surprise that Serafina was this innocent. But then, Frederick didn't know about the dagger yet. She'd been forcibly divested of it by her ladies before they'd brought her to him. But despite her innocence, her shy uncertainty, she needed him, resting her forehead to his as he drew her hand between them. Soft fingers found aching flesh, touching, stroking, wondering if he ached the way she did. "Inside me?" she asked in a breathless whisper, needing him to guide her a little further.

He stifled the groan that wanted to slip past his lips, but he could not stifle the swift intake of breath at her touch, or the thudding of his heart. "Yes," he whispered in a barely audible voice, fingers stroking her cheek, tenderly, encouragingly, determined not to take her by force or to push her along any faster than she wanted to go. He had been nothing but honest with her. It would hurt, but only for a moment, and then there would be pleasure.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. This was the purpose of marriage, wasn't it' This joining, this moment when two became one ....this was forbidden by the Temple except between husband and wife. This was what he needed a wife for, to plant his seed and create an heir. But his need right now didn't seem to have anything to do with children. He said he needed her and, good Goddess, but she needed him in return. If this was the way to do it, then so be it. Swallowing her fear, she inched closer, rising up, shuddering as she felt the intimate contact between them, lowering to fulfill what he needed. It was slow going; she had never felt anything like this, hot and cold, tightness and passion combining to make it a struggle that blossomed into pain when she reached the point of no return. Be brave, little lioness. So she was brave. Clinging to his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to go on, crying out at the burst of pain that told her she was no longer a maiden. Sobbing softly as she pressed her face against his neck, ashamed of her own weakness.

Ever patient as he was, it was growing harder to hold back, harder to contain his own passion, and yet, somehow he found the strength within himself to do it, for her sake. While there was pain for her, for him, it was ecstasy - to hold her close, to join together with the woman he was slowly falling in love with, to feel her move against him, clinging to his shoulders, her tears warm against his neck. "Shhh," he murmured, holding her close, one hand rubbing her back. He presumed it was the pain that had brought those tears, and his heart felt heavy with guilt, and yet, it was a necessary pain if they were going to truly be husband and wife. "It's all right. It won't hurt anymore," he gently promised and encouraged, hoping he was right. He knew some women never found pleasure with a man, but he hoped she wasn't one of them.

"F-forgive me," she whispered, drawing her head back to dash at the tears on her cheeks. "I did not mean to weep." And there was the bravery that her father had obviously known she had in her. Despite the pain, the ache that itched and burned, she raised her face from where she had hidden, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of Frederick's mouth. She was still hurting, the urgency of her desire gone, but nonetheless she moved, her hips rocking as her back arched, wanting to give him what he needed despite it all.

He lifted a hand to brush the tears from her face, a soft smile on his own. He would not be disappointed if this was as far as they came this night; this was one woman who was worth waiting for. He wouldn't have minded, knowing there were still plenty of nights to come, but then she was moving against him, despite her own pain, and he was entirely too far gone to stop her, even if he'd wanted to. His breath caught in his throat at the exquisite sensations that were making themselves known, his hands catching at her to pull her closer, to ease himself deeper, as carefully as he dared.

Each catch of his hands, each sound he made, guided her onward, ignoring the ache and pinch inside as she slid closer, taking him deeper. Her hands smoothed over his arms, his shoulders, down his chest, nose to nose with him, watching his face in tender fascination as she finally did what he needed her to do.

All his resolve, all his patience, all his carefully-controlled composure slid away in that moment when he could hold back no longer. Unaware as yet of the fact that he had reached the peak of his passion without her, there was no turning back, all of his senses filled with her presence, with her touch and her smell, her warmth and her love. He groaned at last as he reached that pinnacle and went over the edge, but it was not pain he was feeling but the most exquisite pleasure - so exquisite it nearly brought him to tears.

She held him as he reached that peak, as he fell from that precipice, stroking her fingers through his hair, letting him hold her so tightly she was sure to bear the marks of his fingers in her flesh when morning came. The pain for her had eased, barely there at all, but she had not climbed with him. For all she knew, this was the way it was. There was something special in being the one who could help him find this release, who was privileged to watch the mask fall away entirely. She just hoped that it would not always hurt so much to get him there.

It took a few minutes before his breath eased and his heart slowed, and all the while it was him who clung to her, instead of the other way around. Perhaps she didn't yet realize what it was she'd done or how she had affected him, but he found he was feeling more relaxed and more content than he had in a very long time. Then, too, he got the feeling that she had not joined him in that sweet release and though he had not been able to hold back any longer, he regretted that he had not been patient enough to bring her along with him. "I'm sorry," he told her, touching his forehead to hers, as his breath and pulse slowed.

"I do not doubt it," he replied, smiling warmly. How could anyone resist the charms of this sweet creature once they got to know her" Oh, he had no doubt she would have more than the cook eating out of her hand before long. He swung his legs up to lounge beside her, before taking a bite of that same pastry, moaning with pleasure and giving the servants in the next room something to gossip about.

Daring to push her luck a little further, Serafina inched closer, tucking herself close against his side to lay her head on his chest. "If I am to bathe, I should braid my hair again," she mused thoughtfully. "It takes hours and hours to dry. Perhaps I should cut it."

"Cut it?" he echoed, sounding almost alarmed by such a suggestion, though he would not deny her even that if it was what she wished. He could have easily asked one of their servants to come re-braid it for her, but he was enjoying the illusion of privacy too much for that. "I could braid it for you," he suggested, shifting his position so that he was facing her. "Here, take this." He handed her what remained of the pastry.

She glanced up at him, surprised by the alarm in his voice. "I wouldn't cut it all off," she tried to assure him, sitting up to take the pastry from him, and sighing. "Hold a moment." Handing the pastry back, she bent her head to take the edge of the blanket between her teeth, protecting her modesty as she rose stiffly onto her knees for a brief moment to drag the long length of her hair out from under her own backside. Settling down with the heavy curtain hanging over her shoulder, she settled her hand at her breast, taking over blanket duty from her teeth, and claimed the pastry from his hand once again. "Do you see the problem?" she asked with a cheeky smile.

"I do," he replied, having witnessed her struggling with both her hair and the blanket, too amused to offer to help. Besides, he was in charge of the pastry. He thought her modesty with the blanket was a little unnecessary at this point, but he said nothing of it, in hopes there would come a time when she was not so modest in his company. The firelight was still the only light in the room, and somehow the way it set her hair and face aglow only made her all the much lovelier to his eyes. "If you wish to cut it, I will not protest, but I think perhaps you should wait until morning, yes?" he teased back, as he handed her the pastry.

"Your royal hairdresser would no doubt love to cut a few inches off, if only to make taming it into suitably regal styles a little easier on his arms," she teased him fondly, biting into the pastry with a low groan. She definitely hadn't eaten enough at the banquet today.

"If that is what you wish," he replied, noting the way she was enjoying the pastry, the groan doing strange things to his body that were thankfully covered beneath his breeches. He did not have a brush readily available, but instead carefully combed out the knots with his fingers. "This will be a crude braid, as my fingers are not as practiced as his," he pointed out, though he was enjoying the soft texture of her hair as he worked his fingers through it.

"I trust you," she promised him, settling herself at a better angle to allow him access to her hair as she swept the whole lot back off her shoulder. It felt ....nice ....to have his fingers working through the occasional tangle. He was far more gentle than he gave himself credit for.

He fell silent for a moment as his fingers separated her hair into three separate strands and began to weave those three strands together into a plait. "I used to braid my mother's hair when I was a boy," he confessed quietly, though he was not comparing her to his mother in any way, other than that.

"Really?" For some reason, it was hard to imagine him as a child. Perhaps it was because of the difference in their ages - he was her elder, certainly; all her life, he had been an adult, a man. But this quiet confession made her smile, still. "You have very gentle hands."

Of course, he had been a child once, though it seemed like a long time ago. Sometimes, it seemed he'd lived his whole life as a king, but that was not true. "She said it calmed her to have me braid her hair. I do not know why," he admitted further.

Serafina could make a guess. "Perhaps it has something to do with the way we're raised," she suggested softly. "The only time I was ever calm and quiet, the only time I had to just sit and talk and be myself, was when someone was brushing my hair, braiding my hair. The person who does it sees you at your most vulnerable, before all the masks slide into place, and after you take them off. I've always found it very calming."

"Perhaps I should do it sometimes for you," he suggested, though it was not necessary and it would ultimately be her decision. But if it was something they both enjoyed, he saw no harm in it. "It always made me feel ....closer to her somehow," he confessed, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Perhaps you should do it always for me," she suggested, glancing back over her shoulder at him. She didn't need to hear him confess his closeness with his mother to know that the loss of such a defining ritual in his life would have left a mark. "You are the king, and you have so many burdens. If I were to insist on this, you would have at least some small part of your day, every day, when you and I could be calm and quiet together."

"You would do that for me?" he asked, surprised by her suggestion. In truth, she continued to surprise him with all the little nuances that were Serafina. "I was rather hoping we could share a bedchamber, though I understand if you would prefer your own bed." He had said something similar earlier, though it was obvious now that he was not only talking about the wedding night.

"I would rather stay with you," she blurted out, hurrying to cover her hasty response. "That is, if you do not mind my presence. I ....I must confess, when I was told we would be sleeping apart, I was afraid. I do not know this land, or these people. It ....it frightens me to think of being all alone."

He paused in the braiding of her hair for just a heartbeat, frowning at her confession, a brief flare of anger for whoever had told her such things without his leave. "You need never sleep alone so long as I live," he was quick to assure her.

He had reached the point in her braid when she no longer needed to face forward, twisting to meet his gaze with deep gratitude. "I am glad," she assured him in return. "I did not mean to make you angry, before. I am ....very untutored when it comes to the ways of royalty, or even of marriage. I will try harder."

His brows ticked upwards at her statement, flicking a glance her way before he looked back to his braiding. "It was not you who made me angry, love. It is the thought of ....people putting false notions in your head of what to expect from marriage. I do not deny that my first marriage was not a loving one, but that does not mean our marriage will follow suit."

"I doubt their words were a reflection on you, sweetheart," she promised him softly. "I am sure young women all over the world are told not to expect their husband to share their bed after their first son is born. These were things I was told when I was newly fifteen; they were not tailored to you."

"I suppose it depends on whether you wish me to share your bed," he pointed out. He knew of many couples who were in loveless marriages, just as his first marriage had been, but he was hoping for more with Serafina.

She laughed gently, covering his hands with her own. "I have already said I would be glad to," she reminded him. "I would be afraid to sleep alone, Frederick. You are all I have here; why would I deny myself the opportunity to be with you?"

"But you will teach me?" she asked, surprised to hear the hope in her voice that must surely be reflected in her expression as she set her glass down. She wanted to learn; she wanted to know all the ways there were to help him lay down his burdens, if only for a few short moments, and relax in her company.

"It is not something one can teach precisely," he replied, his turn to feel a little awkward with the conversation. It was more a matter of experience, but he did not think either of them was quite ready for that just yet. "There are ....other ways to make love," he told her. "Many ways. Ways to make you relax and feel pleasure," he said, gesturing toward her with the empty glass. If the conversation continued on this course, he was going to need another glass.

She smiled, that mischievous glimmer still in her eyes. "You deserve such ways," she told him. "I ....I know it is presumptuous of me, but I should very much like to be a safe place for you. Someone you can be just Frederick with."

His expression changed, the composed look of a king falling away, surprised once again by her statement, but even more so, touched by it. "I would like that very much, Sera. Do you mind if I call you Sera, at least, when we are alone?"

Shaking her head, she let her hand touch his arm gently, strangely shy of touching the chest that kept trying to drag her attention away from his face. "I don't mind," she assured him, her voice soft, touched with the fondness she was only beginning to realize she was allowed to show for him. "You are the first to do so, outside my brothers."

"I know we have not known each other long, but I care for you, Sera, as I have never cared for anyone before," he told her quietly, seriously, echoing the fondness she was starting to feel for him with a fondness of his own. He took the glass from her, and set them both aside, his body aching for her once again, but even more so, his heart. "You are so lovely and so special," he told her, taking her hands between his, though he was dying inside to touch her again, to return the favor she'd given him.

Her smile softened, glad she had tucked the blanket into place as he took her hands, stepping closer with that bridging of the gap between them. "If I am special, it is because you made me so," she said in her soft way. "My greatest fear is to disappoint you, to let you down. I know nothing of being a queen, but I will learn. I promise I will learn quickly. You are not alone anymore, Freddie."

His brows arched upwards again, surprised at the shortened and more intimate form of his name, though perhaps it wasn't so surprisingly since he had done the same with hers. There were only a handful of people left who dared call him Freddie, and only ever in private. It was a nickname his mother had given him when he'd still been a small boy. Once he was past the initial shock of that, he latched onto what else his new bride was saying, which brought a soft smile to his face.

"You could never disappoint me, Serafina," he told her, drawing courage and comfort from her promise to never leave him - not the way her mother had - and leaning close to brush his lips against hers softly and tenderly. "The water will not stay hot forever," he reminded her with a smile.

Kissed so tenderly, she felt a new surge of the confidence that had made her so defiant in his bed, her lips curving in a smile that was almost wicked as he reminded her about the bath. "In a moment," she murmured, taking back custody of one hand to curl her arm about his shoulders, drawing him closer as her lips sought another kiss from his, deeper but no less tender for all that.

Emboldened by her reaction to his kiss, he let go of her hands so that he could slide his arms around her waist, careful of the blanket that still covered her. Following her cues, he deepened the kiss, gently exploring the sweetness of her lips and mouth as tenderly as he could. There was passion in his kiss, hunger even, but no demands, willing to give as much as he was given.

The kiss was ....different to those they had shared before. Others had been sweet, gentle, or they had been hungry, passionate, filled with demands she had not felt capable of answering. Demands she had answered, she realized, drawing back with a faint blush. Was she the one making demands now" Was that even allowed" Biting her lip, she offered him a shy smile, brushing the tip of her nose to his. "I should bathe."

"I should join you," he replied, the tiniest of smirks on his face, knowing she had not expected him to suggest that. He was not even sure if his presence would be welcome, but the bath was certainly large enough to comfortably fit both the king and his queen. He circled her nose with his, the gesture almost as intimate as a kiss, but more affectionate than passionate.

The shock she should have felt at such a suggestion was missing. Instead, she felt only playful, a teasing cast finding her smile as her hands fell to rest against his bare chest. "The King of Carantania likes to smell of lavender, does he?" she murmured impishly. She was aware that there were servants in the bedchamber, just able to hear them moving about, speaking softly to one another, unable to resist wondering what they thought of their king and his new queen. There was no doubt that the marriage had definitely been consummated by this point, after all.

"There are worse things to smell of," he replied with a smile, equally teasing to hers. His statement was certainly true enough; anyway, he was bound to smell like her just from sleeping so close, so what did it matter" He, too, was vaguely aware of the servants in the next room and of what they were doing, but he was so used to them hovering about that he didn't think to acknowledge them. "If you let me bathe with you, I promise to scrub your back," he teased further.

She giggled, knowing she was being talked into something that would scandalize almost everyone she knew. But did she care about them at a time like this? Her smile warmed, a soft touch of lips to his as she gently drew back. "I would rather just be held, than scrubbed." It was an invitation, gentle words offered from a blushing smile as she turned away, taking up the sturdy pins from the stool by the bath to twist her braid into a crown and pin it in place.

"That I can do," he eagerly agreed, watching her a moment with admiring eyes before turning to give her some modicum of privacy while he refilled both wine glasses, draining one without hesitation. He did not much care what the servants overheard or what they thought of a king and queen who bathed together on their wedding night, but he knew tongues would wag and before morning, half the castle would know that their queen was no longer a virgin.

Facing the tub, Sera drew in a calming breath, looking down at the water as she slowly lowered her hands to the edge of the blanket wrapped about her breasts. He had already seen her bare, already touched her, already knew her body ....in darkness. Here, where the candles were burning still, he would see with greater clarity what seemed to have pleased him before. Her fingers twitched, undoing the tuck of the blanket to let it fall as she raised her foot to step into water still hot enough to pink her flesh as it enveloped her.

Thankfully for her, his back was still turned at the moment that she drew away the blanket and stepped into the water. He knew the water would be hot, but hopefully cooled enough so that it was no longer scalding. It would, at least, stay warm long enough that they could both enjoy that warmth together. He downed the glass of wine, almost as if he needed it to gather his courage once again, before filling the glass again, emptying the bottle. It was not enough wine to make either of them drunk, but it might at least help them to relax.

She hissed between her teeth as she lowered into the water, the heat bringing the ache inside to a dull throb that would, eventually, fade away. But it felt wonderful. After a day of being on her best behavior, of dancing and ....other activities, to be able to simply loll in hot water was a luxury she knew she was likely to make a regular habit of. A low moan of pleasure escaped her lips as she relaxed, closing her eyes to absorb the soothing lap of hot water against her skin.

He smiled a little in amusement at her description, but wasn't about to correct her. "It a good thing so long as you do not mind my wanting you," he told her, though he did not see that as being a problem. She was not Elena or Genevieve or any of the other women he had known thus far in his life, and while she might not love him as yet, he had a feeling she at least found him as attractive as he found her.

"I don't mind." The words came in a breathless rush, her hand rising from the water to reach back, tracing a single finger along the line of his jaw. "I-I don't mind at all," she promised again. "I ....I daresay it is terribly unladylike, but ....I feeling a longing for you that I cannot truly describe. Not just to be in your presence, though that is there; to be in your arms, to be kissed by you, and more."

"I feel it, too, Serafina. It is only that it is impossible for me to hide it from you. Do you understand?" he asked, hoping she understood that he was feeling the very same thing that she was, but in a slightly different way and in a way that was so physical he was unable to keep it a secret, at least, when he did not have clothing to hide behind. "I could love you, Serafina," he told her quietly, touching his lips to the place just beneath her ear.

"I-I understand." That what was so obvious to her from him was the same as she felt, but her own was hidden from him until she dared to put it into words. And then something shocking and rather wonderful happened. His lips touched her in just the right place, sending a shockwave of crackling desire through her form, almost stronger than the desire she had felt before. She could not hide her moan, or the physicality of her reaction, the way her fingers gripped his arms as she shook against him. "I-I-I ..."

Encouraged by her reaction to that simple caress, he kissed her again, letting his lips trail kisses down the side of her neck, while a hand moved down her body to find the crux of her being, the place that was the center of that heat. His touch was gentle as his fingers explored, knowing she was likely still sore and not ready to let him have her again, but as he had promised, there were other ways.

Her palms pressed against his forearms, fingers splayed tightly as she gasped at the purpose in his touches, in the way he held her, the way he kissed her. She had not realized how swiftly that overwhelming feeling could come upon her, clouding her mind, negating any objection she might have raised in the hope that he might find some way to appease the clamoring desire that made her buck against the intimate press of his fingers. She could feel him at her back, knowing he wanted more, and yet she could not turn to give him what she thought she knew he desired. She was caught in his arms, breathless, taut as a wire, softly moaning his name as he played her body like a man born to it.

Though he might want more - or at least, some part of him did - all he really wanted in that moment was to help her find the same sweet release that she had given him. It was the least he could do, after all, and was just another way of showing how much he cared for her. He was experienced enough to know how to touch her, how to play her body, how to bring her to the peak of pleasure, so long as she let him. He was gentle in his lovemaking, but not so gentle that he left her wanting, nor so aggressive as to cause her pain, leading her slowly and patiently toward the desired objective, letting her response and reaction guide him.

She knew nothing of how to temper her reactions, her responses, giving him far more than she might have realized as she writhed in his grasp, utterly at the mercy of clever fingers and gentle lips, rising higher, winding tighter ....until suddenly that coiling inside seemed to snap, and she fell, breathless and spinning, crying out with sheer ecstasy at a release she could never have imagined would be hers to enjoy. And his name on her lips - not majesty, not even Frederick, but Freddie, over and over again, until at least she whispered it in tender shock, clinging to him as the last tremors left her supple form to abandon her, lithe and boneless, in his arms.

It wasn't pride he was feeling to know he'd accomplished the task so much as a mixture of relief and joy to know it was him who had given her this gift for the first time in her life and hopefully, it would be him forever after. He pulled his hand away to wrap his arms around her again, kissing her neck, but in a way that was more loving and tender than arousing.

Still gasping a little for breath, she found herself almost laughing as he drew her close once again, her hand lifting from the water to stroke against his cheek as he kissed her throat. "Wh-what was that?"

He smiled, wondering just how he should explain what he had done. "As I said, there are more ways to make love than just one," he reminded her of what he had told her just a short time before. Oh, what fun he was going to have teaching her.

"Goddess ..." It wasn't often she blasphemed, but this seemed appropriate in the circumstances. "No one ever said anything about that." Her lips curved in a tender smile, only for that smile to falter when she felt the unabated insistence of his own desire still at her back. "But what of you, Freddie" A wife should serve her husband, not the other way around."

"You have already done enough," he replied, even if his body thought otherwise. "I could not have hoped for more than that which you have already given me, Serafina. Truly." She had already given him so much, just in being here with him, just in caring for him and trusting him and giving herself to him in more ways than one.

"But ..." Languid though she felt, easily able to fall to sleep where she lounged with him in the water, she could not banish the concern that came with knowing just her closeness might be causing him pain. Curiosity and an inquiring mind were marvelous when twinned with newfound confidence, as Frederick was about to find out. Her head turned, lips seeking his in a tender kiss ....as her hand slid to her back, to touch and stroke, echoing the caress he had stopped her from exploring barely an hour ago.

His breath caught in his throat as her lips touched his and her hand moved to return the favor, once again. "Sera ..." he started, breaking off to exhale a soft moan, the pair of them slowly exploring and learning each other in their first night as husband and wife. The muffled chatter in the next room had quieted, leaving them alone once again with no one to overhear or witness their lovemaking.

Royal servants being what they were, there would be no gossip about what they had already overheard, but rather, a shared sense of pride that they were trusted enough that such things could continue with only a door between them and their masters. As Frederick moaned, Sera moved, awkwardly turning herself about in the warm lap of the water to kneel between his legs, ghosting soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, as her hand found more confidence to coax him into a release like the one he had given her.

And who was he to argue with that when what she was doing was exactly what he wanted" Instead, he found himself relaxing again, the tension slowly winding away, even as his body made the climb toward the precipice all over again. He surrendered himself to her touch, her kisses, her caresses, quite literally putting himself completely in her hands, until he, too, had crested the peak and fallen. It was different this time, less urgent, and yet, no less pleasurable. He whispered her name, sighing in contentment, as he reached for her, to draw her closer and reward her with the most tender of kisses. If this wasn't what it felt like to be loved, he didn't know what was.

Once again, she was fascinated, enthralled by the play of emotion over his face as he rose and fell at her hand, thrilling to the sense of power for a brief moment before she quite firmly told herself to stop thinking like that. Drawn close into his arms, she found herself straddling him once more, but with no insistent need poking at them, it was a warmer embrace. She should have felt exposed, vulnerable, but instead, she just felt wanted. Loving him would be so easy, when love came to her. There was no if in that thought.