Topic: The Road to Peronell

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:00 EST

((Contains reference to adult situations.))

November 16th, 1613

Three days after the grand wedding, and Berengaria was bereft of its newly-wedded couple. Stephan had promised Marianne a visit to his estate of Peronell, and within a day, all arrangements had been made. The journey had begun on the morning of the second day, with a stop at a quiet hunting lodge overnight, and the third day promised to see them safely to Peronell and the great house it held within its boundaries before night fell.

Escorted only by a bare handful of guards by their own choice, the Crown Prince and Princess rode ahead a little way, each enjoying the freedom of being away from the heavy confines of the court. Marianne could not seem to stop smiling, sat astride a beautiful chestnut mare that had been a wedding gift from Queen Catherine, truly delighted to be where she was and in Stephan's company.

The Crown Prince himself seemed as bright and cheerful as the Princess, and why shouldn't he be? Everything was going according to plan, and then some. His highest hopes had been achieved - not only had he secured an alliance with Francia, but he had won the heart of their greatest treasure. Even as distracted as he was, he was not expecting trouble. He was the future king, after all. Even those who did not know him personally would know of him, even more so the closer they drew to Peronell, where he was not only well known, but well loved.

But even in the best of times, there is trouble to be had, and that trouble awaited them on the road. Opportunists they were, who would rather steal and cheat than work honestly, banded together in a rough group, and who could not recognize folly when it rode toward them. They couldn't resist what appeared to them to be a noble and his lady, greed touching their hearts at the thought of gold and silver, and perhaps something darker, too. Ten of them surged onto the road from the cover of a tree-thick hill, roaring obscenities - two mounted, the rest on foot, armed with weapons clearly taken from other unfortunate victims. Marianne screamed, her mare rearing wildly at the shock.

Taken by surprise as they were, Stephan hissed a curse under his breath before shouting to his men to fan out and protect the Princess. He drew his blade as he kicked his mount toward the mare, his first order of business making sure she was not thrown from the horse. Bows were drawn and arrows flew, taking down at least three of their attackers before they got close.

Thankfully, the princess did have some skill, keeping her seat as she drew her mare backward, behind the protective line that her husband and their guards formed, weapons drawn quickly to defend the heir to the throne.

"Keep back!" the sergeant roared as he wielded his axe, kicking out at one unfortunate who came within range of his boot. "In the name of the king, keep back!"

Of those mounted, one of the bandits seemed to have some skill with his sword, and he rode straight for Stephan, fully intending to kill him if he could.

Apparently, the vermin - they were not men, in Stephan's estimation, but vermin, cowards all of them to attack a lady and her entourage with such obvious intent - were ignorant enough not to know who they were dealing with or what their punishment would be if they were unfortunate enough to survive. Unlike some men, Stephan did not relish the shedding of blood, but there would be no mercy for ones such as these.

"Stay back!" he shouted to Marianne. "Flee if you must!" he called to her as he kicked his horse forward to meet his foe, sword gripped tightly in a gloved hand.

She swallowed a fresh scream as Stephan rode hard to meet his foe, flinching at the clash of metal against metal as swords met. She did not know where to look, for it seemed as though all around her men were falling under weapons, bleeding from terrible wounds, and for all her playful bravado, Marianne had never seen such violence outside the joust. Her eyes sought out Stephan once again, stubbornly refusing to ride away and leave him, swallowing another frightened cry as the sword of his mounted foe swept down in a heavy blow.

This was not practice or any kind of contest, and Stephan had not been expecting any trouble within his own lands, but he was no amateur with a sword. He was a skilled soldier in his own right and not unaccustomed to battle. He managed to duck the heavy blow, the sword just glancing off his arm enough to draw blood, but not enough to slow him down. Swords clashed with the sound of metal against metal as he met each slash with one of his own, his horse an extension of his body, knowing his master and moving with him as Stephan fought his foe.

With the prince and the guards engaged in what seemed to be a quick and bloody battle, the princess was not quite so alert as she should have been. In the chaos of the attack, the second rider had been forgotten, but he had not forgotten the prize he had chosen. In the midst of the melee, one brief cry of alarm from Marianne's throat cut through the sound of battle as she was dragged bodily from her horse and thrown over the second rider's saddle like a sack of potatoes, his horse wheeling at his command to seek cover in the woods once again.

Stephan heard Marianne's scream and it was just enough to distract him long enough that his foe got the better of him temporarily, but fortunately he was not foolish enough not to have been wearing mail beneath his clothing. The blow nearly knocked him off his horse and took the breath out of him; he would be bruised and sore later, but no blood had been drawn. Leopold knew his master and backed away, giving the Prince time to catch his breath, enraged at the gall of their attackers and determined to save his beloved before one of the bastards defiled her. From somewhere inside him, rage and hatred bubbled up, and he gave a cry like a wild beserker, charging his foe at full-speed, sword raised to take the man's head clean off at the neck.

His hands occupied with preventing his wriggling prize from slipping free, that second rider had barely a moment to twist his neck and look back before the Prince was upon him. The blow was true and clean, blood spraying from the severed neck as the head tumbled free. The horse bolted, throwing headless body first into a ditch before Marianne fell from the other side of the beast, landing in a frightened heap on the cold ground. Around them, the few bandits that remained threw down their weapons, bolting themselves for safety that would be denied them by the pursuit of three of the four guards who had accompanied the royal couple on their journey.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:01 EST

Stephan did not need to give his men orders - they knew their leader well enough to know better than give the bandits any quarter. Whether they were killed or captured mattered little; their lives would end this day, never to repeat such an attack on anyone else again, be they noble or commoner. No pleas of mercy would help their cause. Thought Stephan prided himself on being a just and fair man, he would not let it be known that anyone dared to attack his wife and lived to tell the tale. Let this be a message to anyone who tried to lift a hand to harm her - any such act would be repaid with blood. Stephan leaped from his horse while his men doled out justice to gather his frightened bride, looking a-fright himself, spattered with her attacker's blood as he was, as well as a little of his own. "Mari!" he called as he gathered her to him, tossing his bloodied sword on the ground for the moment to look her over for wounds or injury. "Tell me you are all right!"

She cried out as he pulled her to her feet, frightened for a moment that it was not him, that someone else had come to bear her away. That fear abated the moment he spoke and, heedless of the blood at spattered them both, she pressed into his arms, shaking as she fought not to disgrace them both with tears. "I-I am well, he ....he did not hurt me," she promised Stephan in a breathless rush, raising her eyes to his, her trembling hand gentle against his cheek. "Y-you're hurt."

Heedless of his own wounds or appearance, he took her face between his hands, seeing the fear on her face and the unshed tears. "Thank the Goddess you are unharmed," he said, thumbs grazing her cheeks, searching eyes as frightened as a wild animal's and trying to calm her with his own blue gaze. He pulled her to him again, pressing her against his chest, only then realizing how terrified he'd been for her, how enraged he'd been at those who'd tried to hurt her. "It does not matter, so long as you're all right," he told her quietly, his heart thumping hard in his chest.

Hating herself for her show of weakness - though, in truth, many other ladies would have been in hysterics by now - Marianne was only too happy to be held close, to feel the thump of his heart through his tunic as she clung to him. He was alive; that was all that mattered. Never mind the blood, the bodies strewn about the road, the distant roar as those who had fled were cut down by the pursuing guards ....Stephan had come through, despite the blood she knew must be his beginning to soak his sleeve. "It does matter," she insisted, raising her head as her trembling began to abate. Her gloved hand touched his bloodied sleeve gently. "Please, dear heart, you're bleeding."

It was only then, without the blood roaring in his head and the sound of his enemies being cut down by his men, that he realized he had been wounded. It was nothing really compared to some wounds - just another scar to brag about later, though there was the matter of infection to worry about. Still, it was nothing compared to the death he had inflicted upon his foe. "We're not far from Peronell," he told her, reaching for his sword and sliding it back into his place at his hip, bloodied as it was. Wounded or not, he scooped her up in his arms and turned to find their way back to Leopold, only to find the horse had already found them.

With only one guard at their side and Marianne's mare already hitched to his saddle, there was little to concern themselves with but leaving a place that was rank with blood and pain. She offered no objection as Stephan lifted her into his arms, wise enough to know that he had a need to take care of her after her harmless fright. What a sight they would make for the steward of the estate, riding in covered with blood. Yet she didn't truly care about that. She wanted to see her husband hale and well again, and soon.

He made a beeline for Leopold, helping her onto the horse as best and as carefully as he could with one wounded arm and climbing up behind her. Thankfully, the wound wasn't deep, but it hurt like hell, like a fire raging inside his flesh. He ignored the pain for now, as best he could, forcing himself to focus on getting her to safety. "Hold tight," he warmed her, wasting no time in kicking the horse into a full-out run in the direction of safety and his home at Peronell.

Clinging to him, Marianne could feel her eyes watering in the sting of cold air rushing against her face at the brutal pace Leopold had been allowed to set. Given his head, the stallion headed straight for the estate, passing through the village of Peronell itself at break-neck speed, startling the inhabitants with the bloodied sight of their Crown Prince and what they could only assume was their new Princess. Through the wall that surrounded the estate and along the beaten earth road that lead to the beautiful house, surrounded as it was with the man-made moat.

Stephan held that pace until they were close to approaching the gate, before reining the horse in and shouting orders to open the gates. Once they were within the relative safety of the estate, they were met by more guards and servants, all of them clamoring to help, worrying over the Prince and Princess. Stephan gave orders to have a small group of guards sent out to find out who the men were that had attacked them and dispose of the bodies. He ordered an edict issued stating that any bandits caught attacking travelers on the road would be punishable by death. Severe, perhaps, but he hoped it would prevent further attacks on nobles and commoners alike.

As Stephan issued his orders, Marianne found herself issuing her own, slipping into the role of lady of the house easily as the housekeeper curtsied to her. She ordered a bath to be filled in Stephan's chamber, and for the house's medicine box to be sent to the same room, waving away the maids who wanted to be sure she was well. She also gave orders that the guards who had accompanied them were to be checked over for injury and seen by a physician if it was necessary, turning as she mounted the steps to look back toward Stephan worriedly.

Between the two of them, the manor was quickly bustling with activity, all of it geared toward the safety and well-being of both Stephan's charges and themselves. A groom came to collect Leopold, orders were issued to have food and drink sent to the Prince's private chambers, and finally Stephan was allowed a moment to catch his breath and look to his own hurts. He met Marianne's gaze from across the lawn, looking pale and drawn with pain, but not so weak that he couldn't find his own chambers with his own legs. He murmured a few last words with one of his men before a long stride carried him up the walk to follow her into the house.

As servants hurried to obey the orders that had been given, the housekeeper herself moved to lead the way up the wide staircase within the opening chamber of the great house toward the Prince's private chambers. Marianne stepped to Stephan's uninjured side as they followed, her gloved hand folded into his, holding tight to him with no wish to let go. Yet once within the outer room of those private chambers, with the bustle of servants back and forth to fill the bath in the bedchamber and lay out food and drink, she regained a little of herself, moving to remove her bloodied gloves and furs, even her outer-dress, before turning to help her husband with his own garb.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:02 EST

Where she had been shaken and terrified a short time ago, it seemed his young wife had quickly overcome her fears and risen to the task set before her, which at that moment was taking charge of her husband's well-being. Now that they were behind closed doors, where only the housekeeper and servants could stand in witness, he let himself relax a little and allow her to tend him, as she would, though he was still far more concerned for her hurts than his own. "I'm sorry, beloved. I should have taken more guards. I would never forgive myself if you had been harmed," he told her quietly, as she helped him with his garb, moving that injured arm as gingerly as he could.

"You could not have known what would happen," his young wife told him softly, setting aside his tunic as she turned her attention to gently removing the looser hang of his shirt from him. The bustle of the servants was easily ignored in her concern for him. "The road was reported to be safe, and it will be safe again." As she spoke, she finally met his eyes, and it seemed she had not quite overcome her fright. Tears still threatened, but she did not wish to disgrace him by showing wet eyes to his people, despite the notable tremble in her hands.

He saw the threat of tears and felt her trembling hands, but said nothing of it, so as not to embarrass her in front of the servants. As for himself, he was shaking a little, more from the pain and loss of blood than anything else, though he wouldn't openly admit it. He frowned a little, wondering if his edict had been too harsh, and yet, it was not something he would question in front of his servants. The anger that had raged inside him was slowly fading, the pain replacing it foremost in his mind and the terror he'd felt that she'd be hurt or worse. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I never meant for you to witness such things," he told her quietly.

Marianne did not dare say what she needed him to hear where anyone could hear but him, pausing in her ministrations to lay her hand tenderly against his cheek. "I would rather see such things at your side, than be left to wonder, knowing that you face them without me." Not the sentiment of a typical princess, to judge by the look of surprise on the housekeeper's face, but the good woman kept her peace, chasing the servants from the chambers with a last curtsey to the Crown Prince and Princess. As the chamber door closed, Marianne burst into tears, pressing herself into Stephan's arms. "I was so afraid ..."

Stephan lifted a brow at her statement, as surprised as the housekeeper, it seemed, to hear his young wife make such a bold statement, knowing what kind of danger it could put her in if she were to accompany him to the field of battle. He sighed as the tears finally broke free and wound his arms around her to hold her close. "I know, love. I'm so sorry. If only I had known..."

She shook her head, raising her tear-stained face to meet his eyes. "You do not understand," she told him, one trembling hand laying gently over his lips. "I was not afraid for myself. I was so very frightened that you would be hurt, or worse. I could not bear to lose you, Stephan."

His expression softened, a worried look on his face as he realized it was not for herself she'd been frightened - not entirely, anyway. "I am first and foremost a man of the crown, a soldier. I am sworn to defend the land and the people of Pomerania, even if it means sacrificing my own life to do so. What kind of leader would I be - what kind of king - if I only sat upon a throne and ordered men to their deaths without being willing to share in the glory and the horror of battle?" He sighed, knowing he was answering a question that she had not asked, but needing her to understand that all of this was part and parcel of his life and now hers, too, by extension. "I can only promise you that I will always do everything in my power to come home safely to your arms, my sweet Marianne. I love you, and I do not plan on giving up my life so easily as that, especially not to the kind of vermin who crossed our path today."

"I did not ask you not to fight, for I know you are not a man to stay idly by and have others endanger themselves on your command," she assured him, knowing the need for battle even if she did not like it. "But I cannot promise you not to weep in fear of losing you, not to lose sleep in your absence. I, too, love you, Stephan. You will simply have to learn to live with my fear, for it will not abate, no matter how many years go by."

He smiled at last, though it was a weak and weary smile, as he took her face in his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "My dearest, I do not expect you not to fear for my life. I fear for yours, as well. I would not ask you to never have a child for fear you might die in birthing it, and yet I will live in fear of that thing happening each time you give birth. The truth of the matter is that life is precious because it is so easily lost, and that is why we must cherish every day, every moment we have together, and never waste them arguing or being angry about silly things that do not matter. It is because of your tears and because you worry for my safety that I know you love me, and for that, I am forever grateful, but do not let that fear stop you from living or from loving."

"Would that I could go into battle with you," she sighed regretfully, knowing full well that just the sight of a woman with a sword was enough to set most men both laughing and calling for a cane to beat her with. Her lips curved in a tearful smile as she rose high on her toes, pressing a kiss to his mouth. "But you are hurt, and that is something I can aid you with. Come and bathe, love, and let me look at you."

"Before I faint from loss of blood or too many words spoken. I have been told I talk too much. Do you think that is the truth' A king must know how to inspire his people, with deeds, as well as words," he said, after returning her kiss, in danger of going off on a tangent and another speech, if she did not find a way to quiet him soon.

"Stephan ..." She couldn't help giggling a little, realizing that he was beginning to talk too much about talking too much. Her hands, bolder now than she could have imagined herself being, undid the buckle of his belt to set his sword aside, hooking her fingers into the waist of his breeches to draw him with her into the bedchamber. "You have a great capacity for magic with your mouth, be it with words or deeds."

"Oh?" he said, arching a brow as she stripped him further and dragged him with her into the bedchamber. "Hmm, perhaps I should demonstrate some of that magic on your naked body later, wife," he teased back, not hurt enough to have lost his sense of humor, it seemed, and hoping for a ripe blush from his new bride.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:03 EST

He was rewarded with not just a ripe blush that spread over her skin to peek beneath the high neck of her colored shift, but with a shy giggle, too. "You, my lord, seem right spirited now you have had your blood up," she teased him in answer, turning to close and lock the bedchamber door.

"I take no pride or joy in shedding blood, Marianne. You know this of me. I am not happy to have done so, but as they say, the ends justifies the means. They deserved the fate that was handed to them, and you can be sure, they would not have grieved our deaths, had our roles been reversed." He sighed, sagging against the wall, all at once feeling a little weak and weary. "I think perhaps I should sit."

"I do not think death is what they intended for me." It was offered very softly, evidence that she knew a little of the dangers for a woman traveling rough roads. "Come, then, sit down and let me help you off with your boots. You need to bathe before I may bandage that wound."

"And that is why they paid for their crime with their lives. Only the lowest of the low would force themselves upon a woman, no matter whether she is noble or a commoner. It is despicable and cowardly and makes one no better than an animal." He made no argument regarding the bath, not because he was too tired to argue but because he knew she was right. He needed his right arm, and if the wound was not tended to properly, there was a good chance he'd lose it.

"You saved my life," she murmured softly to him, easing him down into a chair to turn her attention to his boots. She had never attempted to help anyone remove such footwear before, but for Stephan, Marianne was willing to learn a great deal. Throwing her braid back over her shoulder, she knelt down, heedless of her shift, and began to tug gently.

He would have helped her to tug his boots off, but at the present time, he was cradling the wounded arm against his side, though he was unsure if it was the arm or the bruises that ached more at this point. "Yes," he replied, quite simply and honestly, though he thought it was more likely that he'd saved her from a fate worse than death. "Did you think I would not?"

"It would never have occurred to me that you would not," she said softly. "But to take a man's life to do it ....I do not think I am worth a life, however wretched that life may be." One boot came off, and the other quickly followed it, his hose set aside moments later. Then she rose, gently returning to the task of removing his shirt, to see the damage done to his arm.

"No, you are not," he replied soberly as she tugged the boots from his feet, quickly adding, "You are worth a hundred lives, a thousand. I would face a thousand foes if it meant keeping you safe." Though it was a bit of an exaggeration, he said it with a perfectly straight and serious face and tone of voice. "There is only one of you, and I do not ever intend to lose you."

She smiled a little, uneasy at having cost any man his head, but did not argue with her husband, easing the loose hang of his shirt over his head and down from the bloodied arm he was favoring, setting the piece aside to be burned as her eyes fell on his wound.

Thanks to the heaviness of his jerkin, the cut was not deep, and though it had bled profusely, it had begun to seal itself over already. She drew her fingertip gently along one bloodied edge, her brow creased in thought. "Into the bath, dear heart," she told him finally, turning to unlock the medicine box. "There must be something in here to ease the pain, and there is little to be done but to keep the wound clean and dry once you are bathed,"

"Mead," he replied, though anything brewed or fermented would do to take the edge off, or at least, help him relax. He looked over at the offending arm, only to find it didn't look half as bad as it felt. He might just keep that arm intact, after all. The bruises were another matter, though he didn't think anything was broken. All of this was the price one paid for doing battle. "It's nothing, Mari. You mustn't fret so."

She laughed, shaking her head as she poured him a glass of mead, letting a single drop fall into it from a tiny bottle she had found in the box before handing it to him. "You will have to give me leave to fret, or learn to enjoy it," she told him quite confidently. "It will never cease when there is a need for it."

He sighed as he took the glass of mead from her, smiling a little at her reply. "Oh, woe is me to have a wife who fusses over me so," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Despite everything, he had yet to lose his sense of humor. He took a deep swallow of the mead to slake his thirst and ease the pain. "Do you think you can get me to the bath without swooning over my....valuables?"

"Your valuables?" She laughed at that, not understanding quite what he meant by it. They had been married only three days, after all, with little enough leisure for intimacy but at night. "Do I truly seem the kind of woman who would swoon over a pretty piece of gold or silver, love?"

"Not that kind of valuables, love," he replied with a short laugh, though he did not bother to explain what he meant, allowing her to think whatever she wanted. He took another swallow of mead before, stretching out his good arm toward her. "Help me up, love, so I can get this blood off me." And off her, too, apparently. He hadn't thought about that when he'd been filled with bloodlust and rage, wanting nothing more than to end the brigand's life and save that of his wife.

Smiling, her brief storm of frightened tears over and done with, Marianne moved to help him up onto his feet. "Yes, you need a good wash," she agreed with him, heedless of the blood that had dried into her braided hair and on her own face. "Do you need my help to undress further?"

"As do you, my love," he said, wincing as he moved to his feet. He knew from experience that the worst of it would come the next morning, when he would feel every muscle, every bruise, every ache and pain. Thankfully, there was nothing much expected of him now that he'd arrived at the estate.

She blinked, glancing down at herself. "I need help to undress?" she asked in confusion, uncertain quite what he was talking about. "I can wash my face easily enough. It is your comfort I am concerned with, dear heart." Drawing him to the bath, she turned her attention to unlacing his breeches, still blushing despite knowing him that intimately already.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:03 EST

"No, sweetling, you need a good wash," he told her gently, touched by her desire to put his needs before her own. He touched his fingers to her cheek in a gentle caress, even as she worked his breeches open, doing his damnedest to fight the feelings of desire waging war inside him. It was difficult with her this close, with her unfastening his pants, even if her intentions were perfectly innocent. He had a feeling that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be much good right now, but certain parts of his body had a mind of their own.

She raised her eyes to his as he touched her cheek, unable to deny the unmistakeable desire rising in herself even if she had wanted to. But she had set herself the task of caring for him, and she was determined not to be distracted until he was well settled. "I am not injured," she pointed out quietly, though she didn't resist the quiet urge to lay a kiss over his heart as his breeches dropped about his ankles.

He drew a soft intake of breath as her lips touched his chest, just where his heart was beating inside, but even that made him wince just a little. He caught her hand before she could reach for his shorts, afraid her touch would only entice him further and then neither of them would ever get clean. "Bathe with me," he told her, lifting her hand to his lips for a kiss, eyes as blue as the sky looking up at her from beneath a fringe of lashes.

There was just a moment of hesitation, as years of "appropriate" behavior for a lady flashed through her mind. But this was Stephan, her Stephan, a man she knew she couldn't deny anything ....and in truth, she didn't want to deny him this. Her shy smile rose as she nodded. "I will," she promised him softly.

He had a feeling asking her to join him would lead to something more than just a bath, but he couldn't bear to see her with the blood of her attacker staining her lovely face any longer. He smiled back at her and leaned close to kiss her sweet lips, a promise of things to come.

If she were a cat, he would have heard her purr as he kissed her, fingertips stroking a little more confidently against his abdomen as her lips gently drew from his. A little flushed, a little breathless, nonetheless she smiled once again. "Get into the bath, husband," she told him playfully, stepping away to reach to her back for the laces that held her under-shift snug about herself.

"As you wish, wife," he replied with a smile, turning away from her so that he could remove his undershorts with a modicum of modesty and climb into the bath before she turned around. It wasn't for himself that he was being modest so much as it was for her. Until now, she had not seen a naked man in his entirety, except for small glimpses in the dark, unless she had been peeking when he'd been sleeping, and for some reason, he was feeling a little shy now that it was broad daylight.

If he was feeling a little shy, what could she possibly be feeling" The heavy under-shift slid away easily enough, but the chemise beneath was almost sheer. Granted, her back was turned to him as she raised her hands to unpin and unbraid her hair, pulling the thick curtain of chestnut down to shade her blushing face as she began the nerve-wracking process of removing her only undergarment.

He wondered if he should have offered to help her, but how much help would he be with only one good arm' It was hard enough trying to maneuver himself into the tub without killing himself, exhaling a sigh of relief as he sank into the hot, soothing water. Once immersed, he turned his gaze to admire the loveliness of his wife as she unpinned her hair and let it fall down her slender back. "You are so lovely," he said softly from where he sat in admiration.

Marianne seemed to be drawing out the process, though even she could not have said why. Was it because she was shy of him seeing her, or because she wanted him to look" She belonged to him, body, heart, and soul, thrilling to his presence no matter their pastime. And this ....this felt oddly intimate, even with the winter sun shining in through the window. As the sheer silk slipped free, discarded over a nearby chair, she turned back to the bath, her hands twitching as though to cover herself. "I - would you help me step in, please?"

He said nothing for a moment as he let his eyes wander over the soft beauty of her form, clearly distracted by the view, but then they had only been married a few days and he was clearly smitten. "Yes, of course," he replied, forgetting he was as naked as she was, though not quite as shy, and rising slowly to his feet, water streaming off him from the chest down.

There was no way she could have held in the soft gasp that ripped from her throat as she finally saw him in all his glory. "My goodness ..." Swift glances and lingering sensation in the night could not have prepared her for such a fascinating sight. Though her skin grew rosy at the realization of their shared nudity, she took her time in looking, in admiring him, finally raising warm eyes to his as she reached for his hand to steady her own step into the steaming water.

Good arm extended to help her into the bath, he only seemed to remember that he was as naked as she was when he noticed her gaze drop to take all of him in, a view that had thus far been mostly hidden by darkness and shadow. "Oh!" he exclaimed, laughing a little in embarrassment, though she was bound to get an eyeful sooner or later. "Sorry, I, uh..." he stammered, wondering why he was apologizing.

The heat of the water deepened the blush on her skin as she looked up at him, uncertain quite how one went about bathing when the bath was shared. His stammering made her smile, her hand dropping his to let her palms cradle his jaw. "So shy, my love?" she asked, ignoring her own shyness to tease him a little. "A man who could stand as the Goddess' consort, embarrassed to teach his wife what he looks like by day?"

"It would seem so," he replied. His blush might have deepened had the pain not drained some of the color from his face. Her touch, as innocent as it was, was doing things to his body he was as unable to control as he was to hide. "Strange, isn't it' I have never felt embarrassed before." He wondered why that was. Perhaps because he actually cared what this woman thought of him and wanted her to like what she saw.

"You have seen all of me," she told him softly, rising up onto her toes to brush a very gentle kiss to his lips. "I think it only fair that I should see, and touch, all of you." She could feel her cheeks burning as she spoke, shy of being so exposed in daylight but confident in his affections. "You should sit," she told him then. "I cannot reach you to wash your skin if you do not."

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:04 EST

He would have felt his cheeks burning at her boldness if it were not for the fact that the longer he stood there, the more lightheaded he felt. What was it that was making him feel this way' Was it only the fight' Was it hunger, weariness" Was it some strange effect she had on him that made him practically melt in her hands" "I would like to do the same for you," he admitted, though he wasn't sure if his injured arm would allow it. He slowly re-immersed himself in the bath, tugging her along with him.

Drawn down into the heated water with him, Marianne found herself strangely shyer once she was immersed than she had been standing close to him and dry. "I am supposed to be caring for you," she reminded him with a loving smile soft on her face. "Not you for me. You bled for me; it is only right that I should help in your healing."

"You do not need to thank me, Marianne. You are my wife, and I would give my life to protect you. I am only glad you were not badly hurt," he told her, once more putting her well-being above his own. It was only right, after all, and he had taken a oath to love and protect her.

"I should not thank you for my life?" she asked softly, kneeling close in the hot water as her hand took up a cloth, sweeping it over his chest. "I should not thank you for loving me" For teaching me" For caring anything about me?" As she spoke, she drew closer, gently turning his face this way and that as she soaked the dried blood from his beard and neck.

"Well, yes....I mean, no..." he stammered further, brows furrowing as she distracted and confused him further. What was the matter with him that she could distract him so' He tried to follow her with eyes, as she turned his face this way and that, but found it impossible and finally gave up. "You should not have to thank someone for loving you," he replied, reaching for her hand to momentarily stop him from fussing over him. "I give you my heart freely. You do not need to thank me for it."

She held his gaze, her hand caught in his as she looked up at him. "I will always be thankful," she told him in her soft way. "You cannot stop it. I came from a land where a man is expected to barely tolerate his wife, and yet here I am, loving and loved. Why, then, should I not be thankful?" Reclaiming her hand, she slid even closer, turning her attention to the cut on his arm.

He didn't seem to have an answer to that, and for a man who was given to speeches and having the answers to nearly everything, it was a little disconcerting. Instead, he turned the tables on her, returning her feelings of gratitude with those of his own. "I am the one who should be grateful for you," he told her quietly, studying her face as she tended to his arm.

She was very gentle as she tended to him, careful not to break open the wound as she wiped the blood from his skin. It would heal well and be gone within a week or so, but it still pained her to know he had been harmed at all. She glanced up at him, blue eyes warm with tender affection. "Then can we not be grateful together?"

"You would make a brilliant diplomat, if you were not already my wife," he replied, neither confirming nor denying her question, but at least he was smiling now. It was not only her touch that was gentle and soothing, but everything about her. Then again, he saw wisdom in her, patience and understanding. "You will make a fine queen one day," he told her further.

"And you will be a legendary king, I am sure of it," she told him with a smile, letting his arm go. She knelt high, taking up a jug to wet his hair and wash the blood from his tousled curls, unaware for the moment how very close that put them, or how distracting his very close view was. "Good and kind, and loved."

"I am not so sure," he said, frowning a little both at his uncertainty regarding her assessment of him, as well as the distraction she presented when she leaned so very close to him. He closed his eyes as she poured water over his head, in part to keep the water from his eyes and in part to hide such a distraction.

"I am so sure," Marianne insisted, her fingers teasing through his hair to work the blood away, looking down into his eyes with fervent confidence. "How is it that you have so little faith in yourself and the way you are perceived, my love" I have seen no one - save the fools on the road - greet you with anything but devotion."

He slowly opened his eyes to meet her gaze, wondering what it was she saw in him, what it was anyone saw in him. He could only be himself, after all, and hope it was enough. "I only wish to be a good king, just and fair and honorable. Every time I have to..." He broke off, averting his gaze and closing his eyes again with a heavy sigh, as if sometimes the burden were too much to bear, and he was only the Crown Prince. "I am untried and untested," he explained as he looked back at her. "Every decision that I make weighs heavily on my mind. How am I to know if I am doing the right thing" The noble thing" Even today, I gave orders - harsh orders. I do not wish to be a tyrant, but I will not tolerate such attacks as these made against innocent people, be their noble or commoner. How am I to know if I am being too strict or not strict enough?"

She eased down into the water, fingertips gently touching his jaw as she held his gaze, wondering if he truly did not know how to gauge his own reception. "Your people will tell you," she said softly. This, she knew from watching her father's rule; Christian listened closely to the crowd, even ahead of his nobles sometimes. "If they consider your orders today harsh, when word reaches them of the whys and the wherefores, then you will know, because they have so many ways of showing you. In the tone of their voices, in the way that they look at you, in their eagerness to do as you ask. You do not have to worry so much about being strict, or not strict enough. But you should be consistent, and listen to them if they petition you. That is all you can do."

And this was part of what he loved about her - the quiet, gentle wisdom she barely knew she possessed. "Do you think I am too strict, too harsh' Do you think it was wrong of me to take that man's life, when he would have done so much worse to you?" he asked, valuing her opinion on the manner, even if there was nothing he could do to change things now. "I do not enjoy taking another man's life, but I would gladly kill any man who dares touch you."

"I do not like that a life was taken because of me," she admitted softly, drawing her fingers against his cheek as they spoke. "But I understand the necessity of it, in the moment, in the heat of battle. You protected what is yours, as any man would do. No one could fault you for it. Yet were it to happen again, or threaten to, perhaps the wiser course is to take full advantage of the king's justice - to use it to spread word of the crime, and the punishment, as a deterrent to those who might think to try themselves."

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:05 EST

"That is what I am trying to do with my edict," he admitted. "I have given orders that such an act will not be tolerated and will be punishable by death. I will not allow such violent acts against innocent people."

"Then why do you believe yourself not to be wise and fair?" she asked him. "For in such an edict, you prove yourself to be both, and more ....that you care for your people and wish to see them safe. They will forgive you a great many mistakes, if you make them, because they feel your care and love you in return."

"I do care," he echoed seriously, frowning a little still. "Perhaps I care too much, but I believe a king should care for his people, just as a father cares for his children." He wasn't sure why they were discussing this now, but he was not one to hold back when there was something on his mind.

"Then all you need do is show them that you care," she reminded him gently. "As you do with each order that keeps them safe, or fills their bellies, protects them from a bad harvest or an illness that threatens them. All they want is to know that you care, my love."

"There's more to it than that, but yes, you are right." That said and decided, he shifted his thoughts to something else - to the original purpose for their journey here. "I had thought to present you to the household and the people. This was not much of a homecoming for you, I"m afraid."

She laughed softly. "You can present me to your household tonight, and to the village tomorrow," she told him, warm and understanding of his concern. "By now, they will know what happened on the road. They will understand. Am I not, after all, barely more than a child, greatly in need of care and protection after such a dreadful fright on the road?" And she would happily play that part, to spare him any discomfort in the change of his plans.

"You, my love, are hardly a child," he replied with a small chuckle, his gaze darting briefly to admire the proof that was right before his eyes. "What is your verdict, Princess" Will I survive?" he asked, his mood lightening.

Her lips twitched as mischief filled her eyes, both at his glance and his teasing question. "You should pull through, your highness," she conceded, as teasing as him. "Provided you are not left alone for a single moment as you recuperate. I would be remiss in my duties as your wife if I were to let you nurse yourself."

He couldn't help but smile at her response, a hint of that familiar gleam in his blue eyes. "Oh, no, I quite agree. I shall need you beside me night and day. Do you think perhaps there is anything else you might do to soothe my hurts?" he asked, though he was clearly teasing her now.

Her blush had subsided, only to rise once again at this fresh tease. "Perhaps, though my thoughts are not well and proper for a lady of my station," she countered sweetly, a little too innocent given all he knew she had learned and felt in these past few days.

"Perhaps, but there are times when indecent thoughts are called for between a husband and wife," he replied, as to remind her of this, though she clearly needed no such reminder. He paused a moment as he looked her over, frowning a little at the blood that still stained her cheek and had dried in her hair. "Let me wash your hair," he suggested spontaneously.

She smiled, surprised by his suggestion, but quite willing to allow it. "How would you like me, love?" she asked him, this time purely innocent of the connotations of her words in reply.

It was a bit of a loaded question, but for now, he took her answer literally. Right here in my arms, he thought to himself, though he would hardly be able to get her hair clean that way. There was that feeling of desire stirring him again, awakening that part of him that he was trying to ignore, at least for now. "Perhaps you should turn about," he told her with a wave of his hand, though there wasn't much room for maneuvering.

Not much room to move, that was true, but plenty of opportunity for blushes and giggles as she did as he told her, still just a little shy of those first touches before passion took hold. When, finally, she found herself with her back to him, she didn't quite know what to do with herself or her hands, glancing back over her shoulder. "Like this?"

"Just like that," he replied, tempted to touch her in other ways while her head was turned away from him so that she couldn't see, but he had promised to wash her hair and he was a man of his word. At least, for now. Cupping his hands together, he scooped up two handfuls of warm water and poured them over her head, letting his fingers comb through her long silken fall of chestnut hair.

She closed her eyes as he poured water over her head, smiling as she relaxed with a soft sight of contentment. The blood was not thick in her hair, easily washed away, but she could happily have stayed where she was for hours upon hours, lulled by the gentle stroke of his fingers through her hair. "You have such a gentle touch, love."

Such a gentle touch for a man who had only just killed a man earlier that day, but then, he'd had it coming, and it served him right for daring to lay a finger on the future queen. "Mmm, I do not believe anyone has ever told me that before," he said, as he carefully washed the blood from her hair, glad she had not had to do it herself.

"I feel I should learn to purr, if only to show you how wonderful it feels," she murmured, barely aware of how ridiculous an ambition that was. As his fingers combed and stroked through her hair, she found herself leaning backward, until she rested against his chest, warm and trusting, utterly relaxed in his presence.

He paused in the washing of her hair as she leaned back against him, turning his head to inhale her scent, as his arms went around her to cup her breasts in the palms of his hands. "I should rather hear you moan," he whispered close to her ear.

She gasped, low and gentle in her throat, arching into his touch without thought even as her head turned toward the whisper of his lips by her ear. She knew so little of love-making still, and yet whatever he chose, however he touched her, she rose to the feeling with a willingness to rival any long-experienced lover, thrilled to the quick by his loving touch. "For you, I would moan until the stars grew cold," she whimpered softly, her own hand rising from the water to tangle fingers into his hair.

All his injuries and aches were forgotten in that moment, giving way to a deeper ache and one that needed immediate attention. "That is a very long time, Marianne," he reminded her, making no move to stop what he was doing. In fact, his hands moved in further exploration over her flesh, soft and teasingly tantalizing.

He had wanted to hear her moan, true, but it was his name that colored those sounds as they fell from her lips, as she shifted with restless longing against him in the cooling water. Some womanly part of her not yet caught up in that feeling, however, did make itself known, reminding her that she was not yet done with him. "Y-your arm ..." she whispered, barely able to articulate the need to bandage him as his touch roused her and melted her all in the same moment.

"Later," he whispered back, forgetting the injury entirely for now. She had deemed he would not die from it, and he believed her. The bleeding had stopped, and he didn't think a few more minutes without a bandage would make much difference. "Turn around, Mari," he whispered, drawing her hair back from her ear. He did not need the use of his injured arm to accomplish what he had in mind, though he wasn't sure how she'd feel about it.

Where before such motion had resulted in blushes and giggling embarrassment, this time there was no shyness in her as she twisted in his arms, turning to ease her own longing as much as his. Her hands came to his cheeks, drawing him to her as she kissed him, heedless of the daylight that illuminated them, eager to show him her love once again.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:06 EST

He was equally eager as evidenced by his kisses, taking her into his arms and drawing her to him. "I want you, beloved," he whispered against her lips as he kissed her again and again, hands moving over her, stroking her breasts and back, fingers sliding through her hair. His lips broke away from hers to trail kisses down her neck to her throat, and lower, caressing her with hands and tongue and lips, until he could barely contain himself.

Caught up against him, wrapped in his arms and intoxicated by kisses that stole her breath, she was only too eager to touch and be touched, each coming together they shared enough to teach her a little more confidence, a little more skill. Yet, as his lips trailed down her throat, she gently drew back, a studious expression on her longing face. "I have been thinking, beloved," she said, drawing her hand beneath the surface of the water to touch him. "I think it would work this way."

He drew in a sharp breath as he felt her fingers touch him beneath the surface of the water, surprised by her growing boldness. This was no child he had married, but a woman who wanted him and yearned to learn how to please her new husband. "What way?" he breathed, a pause between each word as if it was almost painful to speak.

She blushed, offering a shy smile that was utterly incongruous to their situation, daring to slip closer to him, heart to heart. Her knees parted, finding a resting place on each side of his hips as she gasped softly. "This way?" she asked in a trembling whisper.

Had she read his mind or was she just growing bolder and more sure of herself and her desires? He wasn't sure, nor did he care. He wanted her, needed her, and her boldness was only amplifying that desire. He was not one to beg, though he didn't think he'd have to. She seemed perfectly content to assert herself, and he had to admit it pleased him to have her do so. He did not bother to answer her question, but eased his arms around her to pull her up against him. With only one good arm, it was going to be difficult for him to do much to help, but she seemed to have a pretty good idea what she was doing and he was perfectly content to let her do it.

Drawn close against him, Marianne trembled a little, anticipation touched with a bare hint of wary uncertainty urging her to distract herself with kisses plied to his lips as she put her quiet considerings into practice. Was it a good thing that she had thought this over so intimately, she wondered, gasping once more as flesh aligned in an unmistakeably intimate press that set her nerves aflame. "It does," she whispered wonderingly, drawing her fingertips up over his skin as she stilled, reveling in this moment of closeness.

He smiled at both her achievement and her discovery of it, amused but too enraptured by the sensations flooding his body to remark on it just yet. His hands found her backside, adjusting her alignment just a little, which actually drew them closer together. He closed his eyes to savor the moment, even as he felt her lips touch his, bewitching him with her seduction. He moaned softly against her lips, blissfully content to let her do what she would.

Just that little adjustment drew the sound he'd teased her with wanting from her lips, her own moan painting his mouth with warm breath as she clutched at him. All thought of the daylight, the bath, his injury ....it was all forgotten in the thrill of pleasing him with something she had been studying in her mind almost from their first night together. Instinct was a truly wonderful guide, drawing her to move in slow undulation with him, unwilling to cease the kisses that peppered his lips and face all the while.

She was a wonder, that much was certain. In all his former escapades, with every woman he'd ever been with - and there had not been many - not a one had made him feel the way she made him feel. Not a one seemed to know him as well or was nearly as willing to please him. He need do nothing, but let her work her magic, learning him as she did so and learning herself. With his arm injured as it was, unable to help, it was completely up to her to satisfy them both.

Pleasing him was her sole intention, lips and hands busy over his skin as the water splashed and flowed over the edge of the bath with the rising passion between them. Her fourth day as a wife was bringing her new challenges, new sensations, new feelings to overcome, and in her shy inexperience, she wanted to wipe away all thought of their encounter on the road.

Whether that intention was for his sake or her own, she succeeded. The bloodshed earlier in the day was forgotten in the heat of passion. It wasn't long before his moans were echoing hers, his kisses hungry and passionate, hands moving over her, touching and caressing, teasing and tantalizing. He whispered her name over and over, his heart beating hard in his chest. Not only was she making him forget the bloodshed, but he was forgetting every woman he had ever been with but her.

One thing the household of Peronell was no doubt very aware of was the healthy prospect of babies from their Prince's new marriage, for neither one of them seemed to make any effort to lower their voices as their passion came to a rolling crescendo. Yet it was not a sudden thing, nor any longer such a shocking surprise for her to find herself rising and falling with him in such pleasure. There was no man she could possibly imagine that could be more perfect in her arms, she was certain, sighing her love for her husband with each breath between fevered kisses.

Stephan, too, was falling ever deeper in love with this gentle young woman who had won his heart and his love with so little effort. All she'd had to do was just be her lovely self, and she held his heart in her hand. And other parts of his body, too, it seemed. He sighed with contentment as they finally stilled, wrapped in each other's arms, hearts beating in time with the other. "I love you," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He was not one given to demonstrative outpourings of emotion, and yet, he felt tears rising to his eyes, overcome with emotion and an outpouring of love for this kind, gentle creature who so obviously wanted to please him.

Nose to nose, she lingered against him, unwilling to be parted so soon as her fingertips poured through his hair. There was nothing about him that did not touch her in some way - from his unfailing kindness, to the nobility of his spirit, even the fearsome fury with which he had defended her only a few hours before. That he loved her was the source of constant amazement and gratitude, knowing that he could have had his pick of any princess, any lady, and yet he had chosen her. "I am yours," she whispered to him tenderly. "As you are mine. Forever, if the Goddess wills it."

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:07 EST

"Forever," he repeated softly, a few errant tears spilling over onto his cheeks. When was the last time he had felt such a deep well of emotion that he had wept' He could not remember. "I'm sorry," he said, finding himself apologizing for it, thinking himself weak for going so soft, and yet, this was just another side of him he was letting her see. Forever, he thought, or at least, as long as I can still draw breath.

"Don't be," she murmured, gently kissing the tears from his cheeks. She saw nothing weak about him; only a man weary from the fight, in pain, a man who had given so much of himself to her that some part of him would have to shed a tear. "I love you, Stephan. All of you. Not just the noble prince, for that is only a part of the man I am learning to know. I love the man, not his crown."

He drew a slow, shaky breath, still overcome a little with emotion at the outpouring of love from her, not only in words but in actions. He had never in his wildest dreams thought he could ever love someone the way he loved her. "All my life, I have known responsibility, duty. All my life I have had it impressed on me that one day I would succeed my father and that I must learn what it is to be a good king, that I must be worthy of such an important responsibility. All my life, I have known a wife would one day be chosen for me, one who would rule by my side, but never in my life did I expect that I would love her even half as much as I love you."

It was her turn to cry at his words; not a flood of tears as she had done before, but a simple trickle of drops from her eyes as she kissed him once again. "I truly hope that you never find cause to hate me," she murmured, knowing only too well from observing the marriages of her own family that it happened too often. "I feel I would die without your presence in my life, my dearest heart."

"Never in my life," he continued, his voice thick with emotion as he dabbed gently at her tears. "Never have I met anyone like you. I do not know what I have done to deserve you, my sweet Marianne, but I thank the Goddess that she has seen fit to make you mine. You are everything to me. Everything. I love you more than words can say."

She smiled through her tears, nuzzling gently to him as her fingers stroked against his shoulder. "I feel it, in everything you do and say," she assured him. "With you, I know I am loved." To be able to say that at all was a wonder to her, and something she hoped she would never lose again. She drew herself back suddenly, drawing in a soft breath, as her own duty returned to her. "Your arm."

He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, loving her all the more for loving him for the man that he was and not just the crown, as so many others had done in the past. He had never truly understood love until now, and he thought he was the luckiest man alive to have found it here with her. "Hmm?" he asked, nearly forgetting the ache in his arm, until she reminded him of it.

A second smile warmed her expression at the absent-minded response to her reminder. "Your arm, love," she repeated softly. "It should be dried and bandaged, now we are clean again." Of course, it would take a couple of hours for her hair to dry, but she doubted he would linger so long in private with her just to wait for that to happen. He wanted to see his estate, a perfectly reasonable wish.

On the contrary, he was perfectly happy to linger in private with her as long as she wished. There had been enough excitement for one day, and he thought it was little enough to ask of him. There would be time to tour the estate and introduce her to the people tomorrow. "I suppose you are right," he admitted grudgingly. "Are you hungry?" he asked, seeing the tray of food that had been left for them - nothing that would go cold or spoil, but hearty enough to fill their empty bellies.

"Of course I am right," she told him, raising her brows as though daring him to argue with her. "You are in need of nursing still, and I should not be taking advantage of you." She giggled at the thought of him ever allowing her to take advantage of him, shifting with the barest of moans to rise to her feet in the cooling water.

"On the contrary, I should like you to take advantage of me whenever you like," he contradicted with a smile upon hearing her moan, knowing she had enjoyed that little deviation as much as he had. "You never cease to surprise me, Mari, and I mean that as a compliment," he said, lifting his gaze to look up at her in all her naked loveliness.

She bit her smiling lip, blushing as he looked up at her, hands moving to cover herself in belated shyness as she avoided meeting his gaze with a very soft giggle. "I am not so very surprising, am I?" she asked, moving to step out of the bath in search of the linens she hoped had been left to dry them with.

"You are the first woman I have ever known who is able to see past the crown and see me as a man first and a prince second," he replied, waiting for her to locate the linens before he left the bath. "You continue to underestimate your worth, my love."

"You forget, my love, I know a little of what it is to be merely a prize for the taking in most eyes," she pointed out quietly, wrapping one of the thin linens about herself before lifting the other. "Do you need help to rise?" Double entendre intended or not, she understood this time that her words could have two meanings, blushing once again as she ducked her head with a smile.

"Not unless you wish to help me," he replied, a small smirk peeking out from behind the short beard, catching the double entendre and tossing it back at her, even though she had helped him in that regard once already. He gingerly rose to his feet, water sloshing beneath him. There was nothing wrong with his legs, after all. Once again, he stood there in all his glory for her to see, not nearly so self-conscious this time as he had been a short while ago. "You're blushing," he pointed out with an amused grin.

Shaking her head, she held out the linen, keeping her eyes turned away even as she giggled. "I beg your leave not to be so brazen as others," she apologized. "I-I am not so very accustomed to your glorious form as I should be." And wasn't it glorious" Lean and muscled, not an ounce on him that wasn't vital and necessary, drawing her shy eyes even as she endeavored not to burst into nervous giggles once again.

"And I am not yet accustomed to the beauty of yours, but I am hoping to become more familiar with it," he said as he took the linen from her and wrapped it about his waist as he climbed from the bath. "Do you think we will still love each other when we are old and wrinkled?" he asked, though that was a long way off.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:07 EST

Her eyes lifted to his, warm and hopeful for the future he suggested as she tucked her own linen closer about herself, though it hardly concealed anything as it dampened. "I intend to," she told him with quiet fervor, smiling as she reached up to touch his cheek. "There will never be a day when you do not know how I love you, Stephan. This is my promise to you."

His smile softened as he turned his face into her hand. "I only hope I never give you reason not to love me and that I am forever worthy of your love," he replied quietly, catching her hand and pressing it against his lips.

"I cannot see my heart changing, not for anything," she promised him, stroking her thumb gently against his cheek. "Now come, you should sit and eat. I will see to your arm."

"You are too good and kind and caring," he replied. "What am I to do but obey you?" he asked, though he was not expecting an answer. "I put myself in your care, Princess." He would have bowed, but he thought if he did, he would mostly likely lose the linen about his waist and embarrass them both.

"Wife," she corrected him gently, holding his gaze in that curiously intimate manner she had discovered over the past days. Only he ever saw that look in her eyes, and it was doubtful anyone else would ever believe her capable of it. She smiled, drawing him to sit down, a small part of her wishing for a robe to cover herself as she set about with cloth and bandages.

He, too, was only covered in a linen cloth that was wrapped around his waist, but it didn't seem to bother him very much, so long as the fire was going in the hearth. "I stand corrected," he replied with a small smile on his face as he settled himself in a chair to await her ministrations.

"As you should," she giggled softly, moving about to dry his arm as gently as she could. Her smile faded into a look of fierce concentration as she worked, spreading a smear of some sweet-smelling liniment over the wound before reaching for a strip of clean linen to bind it up with.

"I've had worse, you know," he told her as she tended to the wound. It was deep enough to leave a scar, but not deep enough to be life threatening, unless it got infected. He'd never been too seriously wounded, but then, until recently, he hadn't had much of a chance to prove himself in battle.

"I know," she smiled faintly, one hand leaving her work for a moment to touch against one of the scars that decorated his skin. "I want to do this, my dearest. Truly. Why should I allow someone else to touch you when I can serve the purpose perfectly well?" Slender fingers tied off the bandage neatly, and she bent, brushing her lips to his shoulder. "Now you can eat."

"There will be other battles, Mari," he told her solemnly. "We are at war with Coimbra, and there are bound to be more battles, more....conflicts before there is peace. If there is ever peace. I met your father on the field of battle not more than a few weeks past. It is how our marriage was arranged." It was more than likely she knew all of this already, but he needed her to know that this scratch of his was likely not to be the last.

She nodded solemnly, aware only at the most basic level of the intricate politics and conflicts that held countries at war. She did not even try to pretend she understood every reason they were at war. "I do know that, love," she assured him, moving to take a seat by his side, pouring a cup of wine for him from the pitcher that had been left for them. Her hands then rose to twist her damp hair over her shoulder as she met his gaze. "I do not like it, but I do understand it. And I am very afraid that you will have to resign yourself to my fussing over you whenever you return."

"Whatever failings your mother might have had, she did not raise a fool. You are more than prepared to be a queen in your own right, Mari, and I daresay, I rather enjoy your fussing, but I promise I will not purposely become injured on that account," he told her as he reached for the cup of wine and took a deep swallow.

"You had better not," she laughed softly, her easy humor restored with their quiet time together. No matter how frightened she had been, she was comfortable in his presence, content to simply be herself where she had not been with any other in her lifetime. "Else I shall certainly join you on the battlefield, and what would your brothers say to you then?"

"They would say a battlefield is no place for a woman," he replied without hesitation, before gulping another swallow of wine. "A king must lead his men, not only by example. How can he expect his men to go to battle, putting their lives in danger, if he is unwilling to do so himself?" he asked, though he knew it was a rhetorical question. He wasn't even sure why he was discussing it with a woman who had been raised to know this better than most.

Marianne giggled once again, shaking her head as she loaded a plate for him to eat from, falling so easily into the role she had been prepared for all her life. "He cannot," she answered him simply. "But neither should he expect that, just as all those men have families who love them and will yearn for their return, that he will not have the same to come home to."

"A family certainly gives a man a reason to survive, something to live for and look forward to," he replied, plucking a hunk of cheese from the plate and popping it into his mouth. "Tell me, Mari, have you ever wished you were born a commoner?" he asked her curiously.

She blinked, surprised by the question. "I must confess, it is not something I have ever truly considered," she admitted a little ruefully. "I am able to do more for others in this rank that I was born to than I would ever be able to do as a commoner, but ....they seem to live their lives more freely than we do." She shrugged thoughtfully, nibbling at a chicken leg. "I was never truly allowed to consider much beyond my place."

"Have you ever walked among the people as one of them, without them knowing who you are" Listening to their concerns, their everyday lives. So many of them spend their lives worrying about when they will eat next or if their children will go to bed hungry. When I become king, it is my solemn wish that not one person - peasant or otherwise - will ever go to bed hungry again." It was not that he thought his father shirked his duties in this regard; it was only that Stephan wanted to make life better for all his subjects.

Marianne shook her head, her expression soberly solemn as they spoke. "I have never been beyond any castle walls alone," she confessed quietly. "Far less been allowed to see the poorest in their sufferings. It is very easy not to think of it, when you cannot see it." Guilt flared in her eyes as she looked down at her plate, torn between eating what was there and asking the housekeeper to distribute leftovers from every meal to the poorest in the community not so very far away.

Marianne · Date: 2015-01-08 12:09 EST

He seemed to read her thoughts and reached over to touch her face and draw her gaze back to him. "You needn't worry. I take care of the people under my protection. No one goes hungry here." Perhaps that was why the people loved him so - because he was not only a prince, but a man of the people. He smiled warm encouragement her way. "Eat your supper and know that nothing goes to waste."

Her eyes drawn back to his, she knew he could see that sense of guilt in her for having been born to privilege in the first place. It was good to know that he took such special care of his people; just one more reason to love him. "Yes, Stephan," she murmured obediently, raising a piece of bread to her lips to prove she would do as she was told. He had been given a very obedient wife - the day she chose to defy him would have to be a very unusual day indeed.

He smiled at her reply, though it was not obedience he sought in a wife so much as companionship and affection. What he wanted was an equal with whom he could confide, with whom he could talk to just as he was now, not just as a friend, but a lover, as well. "I am proud of this place and of what I've accomplished here," he continued, taking up a slice of bread. "I believe my father gave me the estate to see what I could make of it."

"I should very much like to see it," she smiled shyly, a very small laugh escaping her as she added, "if only to prove to your people here that I do not always look as though I may have lost a wrestling match with a wild boar." In all truth, she was anxious that his people here at Peronell would approve of her, and perhaps even like her, knowing that she would spend much time here over the years to come.

"Tomorrow," he reminded her, with that warm smile of his. "Tomorrow, I will give you a tour of the estate, but tonight, you are mine," he told her, grinning as he bit off a hunk of the bread. They were both weary, not only from the journey, but their little adventure earlier that day, and there was nothing he wanted more than to relax with his new wife in the privacy of his quarters, which were now hers, as well. "I only ask that you do not bore with talk of new curtains and carpets," he teased, though he would not deny her if she wanted to make their living quarters more to her liking.

Her blue eyes offered him a wide, mischievous look above her innocent expression. "What could possibly boring about carpets and curtains, love?" she asked sweetly, knowing full well that most men - including him - would rather face a berserker unarmed than be intimately involved in the providing of the little comforts that made their private spaces liveable. "You would prefer me to discuss bed linens, or perhaps cushions" Or even my own wardrobe might hold your attention."

He rolled his eyes at her, though he knew she was only teasing him. "Perhaps, if you were wearing clothing that needed removal," he remarked with a teasing smirk as he reached to snag a chicken leg. Whether he had an injured arm or not, it did not seem to have affected his appetite.

"Perhaps I should talk you through each piece as it comes off," she teased, finally aware that this, at least, was a subject on which she had the superior knowledge, even if it bored him to tears. "It could be quite educational for you. Every man should seek knowledge, the Church says so."

"I am not sure how much knowledge of ladies' underthings a future monarch needs to run a country," he remarked with a bit of a smirk, before taking a bite of the chicken leg, his stomach grumbling in thanks.

"I suppose that does entirely depend on how many daughters you have," she conceded impishly, closing the almost open hang of her own linen over her legs as she took a knife to the hunk of cheese left on her plate. She did not have the most robust of appetites, eating just enough to fill her stomach and almost always leaving something on her plate. "Although, of course, a certain knowledge of ladies' underthings may be required in order to obtain daughters and sons in the first place."

"I don't think I'm having much trouble in that regard," he replied with that smirk still in place before taking another bite of the chicken. It seemed he had a healthy enough appetite, though he tended to have a lean build. "What makes you think having daughters will aid in my knowledge of ladies' underthings?" he asked, unless she was referring to getting her into a state of undress, which it seemed he wasn't having much trouble accomplishing.

Marianne blushed as she answered, giggling with the words that came first to her mind. "Surely you would wish them to be so secure that they could not be taken advantage of so easily as you, my husband, have found it to be with me?" she asked with a sweet flutter of her lashes, aware that teasing him was likely to end with some form of highly enjoyable punishment or other.

"Perhaps I should lock them up until they are old enough to be married," he suggested, licking his fingers as he finished off that chicken leg. "But then, they haven't even been born yet." There was, of course, a chance she could already be with child, but they wouldn't know that for sure for some weeks yet.

"But they are in our future," she promised him, one shy hand touching his bare forearm as she smiled, her blue eyes full of longing for the years ahead to be long and filled not only with love, but with family, too.

He smiled over at her, blue eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief as he got to his feet and swept her up off the chair and into his arms, leaving whatever was left of the meal behind. There would be time to finish it later. "There's no time like the present to get started," he told her, momentarily forgetting about his arm as he bore her toward the bed.

She squeaked with laughter, her protest against his roughness with his own injury lost in the peals of giggles that resulted from knowing she had teased him a little too far. She loved every aspect of her prince, from the noble to the mischief maker who currently held her enthralled. Who would have thought that such an arranged match could have delivered such joy?

Despite what had happened earlier that afternoon or maybe because of it, he intended to show her just how much he was falling in love with her and how much he wanted her, whether it took all afternoon or not. One way or another, he would make her forget what had happened earlier, wipe from her mind the pain and fear that had almost marred her first glimpse of the home that was theirs until their dying day. If he had his way, she would only remember that he had been her hero that day and that he intended to be her hero for many years to come.

((It's all go in Pomerania, isn't it' Many, many thanks to Stephan's player for indulging me!))