April 13th, 1614

The winter had seemed a long one for the newly wed Crown Princess of Pomerania. Though the court had fled the worst of the northernmost winter after the new year festivities, there had still been snow on the ground each morning for two months before the warmth of spring began to finally make itself known. In Francia, spring was already in full grip by the time it made itself known in the center of Pomerania, on the estate of Peronell that was Prince Stephan's by right of birth. The novelty of deep snow had long since worn off for his young wife, confined at first within the court and then within the lonelier walls of their home to escape the bitter weather. With the grass fresh and green and the sun forcing warmth into the air, Marianne was impatient to be outside, to revel in the promise of spring and summer and autumn, the seasons that allowed for more than needlework and reading.

At the first opportunity, she held her husband to his promise made on their wedding night, to allow her to practice the pastimes she had loved as a child and been denied due to her sex. Thus it was that Prince Stephan found himself on one of the many lawns of Peronell, watching his young wife practice drawing an unladen bow for the first time in years.

To be fair, it wasn't a long bow that had been prepared for it, but something more suited to her size and strength. A long bow was a challenge even for a man accustomed to battle, such as himself. He had resisted the urge to help her, waiting to see what her form was like and just how skilled she was with the weapon before stepping in to assist or instruct her. He had brought along several other bows of various types and sizes, but as yet, he had not fired any of them.

Perhaps her estimate of being able to draw 20lbs had been a little optimistic. It was certainly an obvious struggle for her to draw the bow to its full stretch, harder still to keep the steadying influence of her out-stretched arm from buckling as she labored to hold the correct stance. Enough of a struggle that she gave up, breathless, her expression mournful at her own inability to draw what she had been able to not three years before. "It would seem that I have become weaker since I was last allowed to draw a bow," she admitted reluctantly, sighing her disappointment.

"You're just out of practice," Stephan assured her from where he stood not far away. Her stance and her form weren't bad; she was just a little rusty and needed some practice. "May I?" he asked, as he stepped forward, spreading his arms as if offering to help. "It takes years of practice to master a bow, Mari, and you haven't drawn one in three years." He was trying to be encouraging, to assure her that she wasn't a failure, that all she needed was a little time and practice.

She smiled a little, knowing he was risking somewhat of his reputation by just allowing her to touch a bow, much less encouraging her to relearn how to draw one. "Please," she nodded, welcoming whatever help he could give her. "Perhaps I should return to mastering a child's weapon, before attempting this once again." It was a galling thought, to have to throw away years of practice and begin again. It certainly didn't bode well for her remembered skill with a sword.

"I don't think that's necessary, but you will be sore in the morning," he warned her, as he stepped up behind her. "Raise the bow," he instructed, waiting for her to do so before moving closer to guide her.

Setting her feet firm against the grass, Marianne drew in a slow breath, focusing on her arms as she raised the bow, drawing back the string as far as she was able to. It was not quite the stance that they had both been taught, for the string just barely touched her mouth, when she should have drawn it further, to the hinge of her jaw. Within seconds, the arm stretched out to hold the wooden curve began to shake, threatening to buckle at the elbow once again.

"Hold," he encouraged, stepping closer - so close she could feel the warm tickle of his breath against her neck. He covered one hand with his, adding his strength to hers in helping her pull back the string to take the stress off the arm that was stretched off and holding the curve of the bow. "Keep both arms strong, but relaxed," he instructed. "You don't want the arrow to scrape your arm."

As always, there was a moment as he stepped to her back when she could quite happily have thrown the bow down and turned to him in tenderness, despite her own eagerness to relearn these skills she'd had in her youth. As time passed, the love she felt for her husband grew, and with it, the passion he was still teaching her to master. He knew perfectly well that his proximity could have a slightly detrimental effect on this lesson, but equally, she would not progress without help. And so Marianne swallowed hard, making a visible effort to keep herself from melting against Stephan as she endeavored to do as he told her. "It is so much harder than I remember it," she confessed quietly, resisting the urge to flex her fingers beneath his.

"Only because it's been so long," he replied, as aware of her closeness as she was of his. He could smell some lovely faint scent about her, as soft and feminine as she was - lavender, perhaps. He found his concentration wavering, and he had to force the desire for her that was stirring inside him aside, at least for now. "You are using muscles that are no longer accustomed to a bow. It will take time to strengthen them again."

Distracted by him as she was, still his little wife made an effort to keep her mind on what they were about, fair certain that if she gave him even the merest hint of her distraction, they were likely to make use of the new spring grass for more than simply standing upon. "At least I am not so weak that I cannot draw the bow, even if I cannot hold it steady yet," she offered, tempted to pout at his reminder that her ability would not improve until her muscles were used to the exertion once again.

"You've grown too accustomed to needlework, wife," he teased. "Archery is a discipline, like horse-riding and swordsmanship. It's a skill that needs to be practiced regularly, but you know the basics. You have good form. You just need a little more strength." He thought she'd been holding the bow taut long enough and drew it away from her so she could rest. "Practice pulling for an hour everyday, and I'll wager you'll be shooting again within the month." As far as swords were concerned, that was another matter.

His teasing was more than enough to draw a merry laugh from Marianne, her indignant reaction to let her elbow catch his chest as he took the bow from her. Turning to him, she poked her finger into the fine cloth of his tunic, her blue eyes bright with laughter. "Without my needlework, husband, you would be wearing last winter's rags," she reminded him cheerfully. That, at least, she was very proud of. All his shirts were now made by her hand, thanks to the Queen's insistence that she take over the rather sweet tradition upheld by the Pomeran court.

He caught her arm as she elbowed him in the chest, tucking the bow beneath his free arm as he pulled her close. "I can think of other ways to strengthen your muscles," he suggested, with a mischievous grin. She would just have to use her imagination to figure out what he was alluding to. "It's a good thing I married a woman who can work a needle then, or I might have to go about the naked, and that would be sure to cause a scandal."

"Of course not!" Stephan replied, looking aghast. "You're my brother. Do you think I would throw you out just for losing a wager?" And he was fairly certain Felipe was going to lose, but that remained to be seen. "But before we agree to any terms, you will not be using that bow," Stephan said, letting go of Marianne at last, so that he could confiscate the lighter bow from his brother and replace it with one that was more to both their liking and skill.

"Ah, so I shall not be shooting against your lovely wife," Felipe chuckled, the laugh deepening as Marianne stepped away, glancing furtively at her husband. He'd guessed right, it seemed. Handing over the lighter bow, he nodded to his sister by marriage. "Your secret is safe with me."

"That would hardly be a challenge. Give me two months, and then you might find her a formidable opponent," Stephan said. Clearly, he had a lot of faith in his young wife's abilities and determination. He took up another bow so much larger than Marianne's, it almost made hers look like a toy. "Now, about the wager. There's a certain young lady I have in mind whom I think you might find to your liking. If I win, you must agree to meet her."

It was Marianne's turn to laugh as Felipe groaned at his brother's stakes. She knew, just as most of the court did, that he had been actively avoiding anything that might even hint at marriage for quite a while now.

"Must you begin matchmaking now you're an old married man?" he complained to his brother, moving to select a bow of his own. "That's the whole reason I'm here - there are too many matrons at court with daughters who think marrying a prince is a worthy cause."

"Isn't it?" Stephan countered. "Don't you want to get married while you're still young enough to attract a pretty wife?" he teased, elbowing his brother and tossing a wink over at Marianne, a smirk appearing on his lightly-bearded face once again. "So, you've come to escape Mother's match-making. And here, I thought perhaps you missed us."

Giggling at the by-play between the brothers, Marianne moved to sit herself down on the grass, quite happy to watch them play together.

Felipe glared at his brother, sighing at the realization that he was never going to escape the fact that he was the most eligible of their line now. Maksim had done such a good job of destroying his reputation when it came to women, it would be a wonder if anyone would willingly give their daughter to the middle prince as a wife. "You were my first choice as a place of refuge," he pointed out, his fingers testing the tautness of the bowstring as he spoke. "And I have a good four years, by your standard, to wait before I attract myself as pretty and good-tempered a wife as you have done."

"Ah, but I was not free to make my own match, dear brother. Not nearly so free as you are, though I have no complaints." Stephan smiled warmly over at Marianne, hoping she took no offense. Though their marriage had been an arranged one, they had been fortunate in that they had fallen in love - a rarity among nobles. "Name your stakes, brother, though I do not intend to lose."

There was no offense in Marianne's expression; she knew as well as they did that the Frankish marriage could have been an utter disaster, were she and Stephan not so well suited. For himself, Felipe considered his brother thoughtfully. He knew better than to ask for what he wanted in so trivial a wager, and to be fair, he wasn't entirely sure he could beat Stephan in war craft. "Hmm ....a stallion from your personal stables," he said then. "I have need to train a new mount, and yours have the reputation for being the best tempered."

While Felipe was busy considering his own wager, Stephan busied himself by taking off his cloak and spreading it out upon the grass for his lady-wife. Always a gentleman, he drew her up by the hand to resettle her atop the cloak, so that she wouldn't soil her dress or catch a chill. Stephan arched a brow, a little surprised at his brother's thoughtful and very practical reply. "Those are high stakes indeed, though I wonder why you did not just ask me for one."

Marianne couldn't help but smile as she was lifted and resettled, amused by how delicate she must seem to him still. While Felipe was thinking, she stole a kiss from her husband, stroking her thumb against his cheek before easing back onto the drape of his cloak with an innocent smile.

Felipe pretended not to notice, selecting arrows that conformed to his expectations. "I was going to ask," he admitted, "but this makes it seem more entertaining, does it not?"

"And if you lose, you think I will give you the horse anyway?" Stephan mused, the corners of his mouth curving upwards in amusement. He kissed his wife again, just for good measure before turning his attention to his brother. Just to be fair, they would shoot with the same bow, so neither could accuse the other of cheating. "You haven't yet shared the reason for your visit here, Felipe."

"No, I think you'll expect me to pay for one if I lose," Felipe chuckled, setting his chosen arrows into the grass. "What are the rules set for this wager, brother?" He glanced a little warily to where Marianne sat, and there was just the faintest suspicion of an embarrassed flush on his fair cheeks as he cleared his throat. "I did tell you. Escaping the marriage meat market." Though that clearly wasn't the whole story.

"And we both know that is not the only reason for your visit," Stephan replied, stepping closer and lowering his voice so that Marianne did not overhear him. "The rules," he continued, in his usual tone of voice. "We shoot three arrows each. Whoever comes closest to the target wins. And since you are my guest, you may go first," he added with a smile.

Felipe nodded, bowing to his brother as he accepted the first shot. Drawing with ease, he sighted along the bow, taking the opportunity of speaking quietly enough that Marianne might not hear him. "Lady Margaret has produced her niece," he warned his brother. "And that lady has marriage in mind. She seeks to get a belly on her, by any means." He breathed out, and loosed the string. The arrow flew true, slamming into the cloth covered target just inside the innermost circle painted upon it.

"Hmm, impressive," Stephan remarked, regarding his brother's first shot, but then he wouldn't have expected any less of him. Of the three brothers, Felipe was the one who was called upon to enforce the border, hence the one who saw the most action in battle. "There is a simple solution to your problem," he started in reply to his brother's admission, keeping his voice as low as possible. Actually, there were several solutions, though he had a feeling Felipe wouldn't like any of them.

"Could be better," Felipe commented on that first shot, dismissing it from his mind as he nocked a second arrow to the bowstring. He glanced at his brother briefly as he raised the bow, taking aim once again. "Mother won't let me leave court again so soon," he pointed out, as though that was the only solution he could see. The second arrow flew truer than the first, finding a deeper mark toward the center of the target.

In the midst of his own bow to Marianne, Felipe looked up in surprise, not so much at the nudge as the promise of a horse. "You won the wager fairly, brother," he pointed out, unable to help smiling a little at the way Stephan and his wife looked at one another. "We'll talk more later," he assured them both. "For now, I should wash the dust of the road from myself."

Marianne's smile was warm as she looked at her brother-in-law. "There will be a bath in your rooms for you," she promised him, knowing the housekeeper well enough by now to know this was a normal procedure. "Will you join us for the evening meal?"

There was little Stephan could add to that of his wife's hospitality. He smiled, pleased that she was slowly warming to the younger of his two brothers, and pleased that Felipe seemed in favor of his marriage. Though his brother was still young, perhaps there was hope for him yet. He stepped forward to help Marianne to her feet, an arm sliding affectionately about her waist, as they awaited Felipe's response to the invitation to dinner.

Glancing between the couple, Felipe chuckled a little, knowing when he was defeated. He would have expected to join them that evening anyway, but it was strange to be invited by the lady of the house, as though he had a choice in the matter. "I will, sister, thank you," he nodded to Marianne, bowing to them both. "I will see you this evening." He turned, leaving them to their own devices in the afternoon sunshine.

Their own devices might have ended in a romp in the grass, except that Felipe's unexpected visit had distracted Stephan and even had him worried. It went without saying the Felipe would join them for dinner, but the invitation still required a response. Stephan leaned his head against his wife's as they watched his brother wander off, a small worried frown on the Crown Prince's face.

Leaning into her husband, Marianne watched her brother-in-law walk back toward the house, her own blue eyes thoughtful. She had never known Felipe to be anything but absolutely proper and well behaved, and yet she had noticed something out of place. "He came straight to us," she mused softly. "With the dust of the road still on his boots."

"Yes, and I think he has not told me everything," Stephan mused aloud as he watched his brother disappear from view. He sighed as he turned back to his wife and wound his arms around her waist. So much for a carefree afternoon. He felt the weight of responsibility upon his shoulders and knew this was only the beginning.

With her own arms about his waist, Marianne looked up at her husband, seeing those cares settle on him and wishing she had some way to lighten a burden that would only get heavier as the years passed. "And did you, as a young man, share all your secrets with your brothers?" she asked him gently. "Allow him his secrets, dear heart - if he has a need to tell them, I do not think it will be to any but you. He loves you dearly, and trusts you, besides."

"Of course not," he replied, with a frown, though his situation was far different than Felipe's, or so he thought. Not only was he the eldest, he was also the Crown Prince. "They were too young to understand most of it. Even still, I wonder if they truly understand the responsibility that weighs on my shoulders." He pulled her closely into his embrace, tilting his head down to lean against hers. "If only both my brothers were so trusting. Have I made a mistake in suggesting him for the Guard?"

Drawn into his arms, she smiled gently up at her husband, understanding that he would never give voice to these second-guesses with anyone but her. "No, I do not think it so," she assured him softly. "I think, perhaps, we have all been wrong in our assumption that he loves war more dearly than anything. He has a great care for the people of Merek, that is quite clear. Whether there is something other than pride in the way he bridles against orders to leave there ....that is not for me to say."

"If it's a lady he fancies, why doesn't he say so' He's old enough to be betrothed. Perhaps he only feels he's of more use in Merek than with the Royal Guard," Stephan mused aloud, though he could only guess at his brother's heart. "I suppose I shall have to speak with him privately." And hope that Felipe truly did trust him enough to confide in him.

"And if it is a lady he fancies, it may be that she is not of the appropriate rank," Marianne pointed out softly. "He has spent much time in the borderlands these past months. If it is a lady he worries over, it could be that she is Coimbran, a heretic, or merely low-born. Without his word to confirm or deny, this is purely conjecture, dear heart." Her hand stroked gently against his back as she looked up at him. "We will see, when he meets with Eleanor de Montreve. If his eye has fallen elsewhere, she will not please him so much as you hope."

"I do not wish to break his heart, Mari, but he cannot marry a woman who is beneath his rank as a king's son. If it is such a woman that his heart is set on, the most he can hope for is to make her a mistress." But she knew all of this already, and he was only thinking out loud. Once he was High King, he might be able to help his youngest brother sort out his troubles, but until then, he could only offer suggestions to their father and hope he was heeded.

"Then perhaps you should take him to your cups and see what truth may come when wine loosens his tongue," his wife suggested gently, though she knew now what Stephan's mornings were like when he had overindulged the night before. "And a mistress may yet furnish him with heirs, should he choose to acknowledge them as his own. It is not such a hopeless case, if case it be."

"That is one way to make him talk, if my lovely wife can do without me for an evening," he teased, a smile on his face, his arms wrapped snugly around her. "I would like to know his mind, if he will let me." As far as the Lady de Montreve was concerned, Stephan would not force her on him, if his youngest brother did not find her desirable, but that yet remained to be seen.

She giggled softly, rising up onto her toes to kiss her husband with gentle lips. "I think he would like you to know his mind," she agreed with him. "He holds you in high esteem, and would know you better, I think. Perhaps it was only my presence that kept him from speaking just now. I know he is of the opinion that I must be protected from all things unseemly."

"What would he think, I wonder, if he knew I keep your counsel," he replied, but not until he had returned her kiss with equally gentle lips. It was Marianne, after all, who'd suggested Felipe be put in charge of the Royal Guard, in part because Stephan worried so much for his safety in Merek. In truth, he cared for his brothers far more than he dared openly admit.

She laughed, tightening her embrace about his waist as she leaned into him. "He will never believe it truth until the day he has a woman's heart to confess to," she told her husband warmly. "Come, we do him a disservice by speaking of him in guesses and half-truths. We should speak of happier things."

"I believe we were contemplating hiding in the woods before my brother interrupted," he teased, tipping her chin toward him to accept another soft and lingering kiss, one that rekindled the desire he'd felt before Felipe's unexpected arrival.

"And abandon our guest?" his little wife asked him, her voice playful as she swayed in his arms, only too easily drawn up into the warmth of desire that he evoked in her. "Will he amuse himself until supper, do you think?"

"He did say he wanted to bathe and rest, did he not?" Stephan asked. Perhaps not in so many words, but he thought that was the gist of what Felipe had said. Stephan let go of her just long enough to sweep his cloak up off the ground before taking her by the hand. "Come, wife. Let us get ourselves lost for a little while," he told her with a mischievous smile on his face. What harm could come from a little walk in the woods, after all?

Giggling, Marianne glanced back toward the house, where she knew eyes were watching them for their own ease and comfort. "I am at your command, husband," was her teasing reply, dropping a curtsey that was no less teasing for all its perfect form and precision. With her hand caught in his, she laughed, falling into step with him toward the woods that surrounded the manor house that was their own.

Whatever came to pass during that walk in the woods, it was certain they would at least end up in each other's arms, away from the watchful gaze of guards and servants and well-meaning brothers. Whether or not they made love on the grass under the cool canopy of boughs with only the trees to witness was for no one but them to know. The fertile spring had come to Pomerania, and with it, the renewal of all loving promises. Perhaps soon, there would be yet more reason to celebrate the Crown Prince's Frankish marriage.