nooks & crannies of the castle ( odie/berlus )

[dede]

As she contemplated the possibility of tiny, girlish cherubs with golden curls or raven tresses tottering throughout the arching Helion hallways, Berlus lounged in the cooling bathwater, which encouraged his gradual relaxation. Resting comfortably against the submerged portion of porcelain wall, one arm dripping noiselessly onto the shimmering rim, he received her exploring gaze with half-lidded amusement and growing satisfaction. The effect of her dark eyes was nearly tangible; soft, like the fluttering hesitancy of butterfly wings or the whispering caress of a feather brushed across his skin. He welcomed the breath of such sensations with a languid smile. The rosy blush was quickly draining from his roughened cheeks, and with it, the rigidity and tension that had presumably been blindly folded away with his princely outfit of royal blue and indulging black.

Even the perplexing simplicity, in retrospect, at least, with which he had dissolved into his current state of blissful inattention, could not distract him from the current affair of examining the thoughtful goddess bathing before him.

Really, he should have been hysterical. In the presence of absolute divinity, most men would blither away with utter madness, or damned with eternal blindness at the very sight. Yet, here was Prince Berlus, fraught with worry, the leaden burden of his kingdom… and his mind was completely exhausted of all of those familiar and daily tribulations. When, a day before, the smallest coy advance would have prompted a hearty sprint in the opposite direction. Perhaps he had skipped insanity and loss of eyesight, and was simply struck dumb by her stellar beauty.

The heralding ripples racing across the surface, breaking against his bare skin, as Odette drifted towards him roused his attention from her tender stare.

"Why don't we just hope that we only have boys? Plenty of heirs, lots of gentlemen... and hopefully no ladies."

He would have replied with some usual, blatant factorial or choice consideration; that if they were fruitful in their attempts to marry, despite all that stood to oppose them, then why should she fear for the future of their daughters? But as she dangled her lips against his, her breath teasing, prickling his skin, he found himself quite lost for intelligible conversation on his part.

Her delicate fingers, traversing the length of his arms and eventually pausing to rest at his neck, were no more successful at drawing out a response than her previous attempts. Until,

“I love you."

The warrant of affection revived his consciousness with thrilling success. And, with luscious imitation, savoring the moisten softness of her skin underneath his palms, his heart catching in his throat as he dusted her dark hair away with the back of his palm, he brought his hands to her shoulders. Smiling he leaned towards her, closing what little gap remained.

“I love you—“

His room may as well have been flooded with stilled water, for the sound that carried across resounded as if sent skipping across over a frozen lake, clear, perfectly audible. Berlus paused, his blue eyes, widening in alarm as they were drawn beyond Odette, and then back to her heavenly features, the charm suddenly lost in his terrified distraction. The muted knocking upon his chamber door resounded in carefully practiced succession, filling the bathing chambers with its hollow melody.

[ollie]

She smiled, the sound of his voice resonating in her head. “I love you—” Whatever else he had planned to say was broken by the sound of someone knocking the door. His eyes widened, and she was so close that she could see every shade of blue that created that storm of blue. She pulled back, looking up towards the chamber door, before back at Berlus. She swallowed all sound, breathing as quietly as she could through her nose, watching the door with that feeling of dread she’d felt when she’d seen Berlus react to Rian’s appearance during their first kisses. Go away, go away, go away. Why does everything have to be ruined? she thought, listening to the maid’s feet on the floor, the sound of things being assembled before put down. Go away.

Finally, there was the sound of the door opening, and a short pause, before the maid’s footsteps trailed out and the door closed and was locked for the night. Well, since it seemed curfew was being enforced that night, it was assumable that Odette was staying the night. She looked back at him, and all at once, she relaxed, her muscles unclenching and letting out hysteric laughter. She leaned in, head nestling in between his neck and shoulder. She giggled, smiling big as she leaned back slightly, looking at him.

“I don’t know why it’s funny, but it is,” she laughed, smiling. She kissed his forehead, lips lingering against the skin there before they dropped to his own, kissing him brusquely. “And anyway, since I don’t believe we are going to end up bathing sincerely, and we’re locked in, and the water’s getting cold, I’m getting out. You can linger a little, or whatever you’d like, but I’m going to bed.” With that, she stood, half-bending as she climbed out of the bathtub carefully, steadying herself with his shoulder. She took one of the towels from the cabinet, drying herself before going past him, holding it against her chest as she left the bathing chamber to the sleeping chamber, drawing the curtains closed at the window just in case.

She dried the tips of her hair, since she hadn’t gotten most of her hair wet, and took a seat on the edge of the bed, eyes running over the furniture. She pulled the sheets onto her lap and around her, finally wondering if this was the right idea. She really hoped it was.

[dede]

Each measured step made by the intrusive maid, muffled partially by the thick rugs, struck the Helion Prince as ominous knells, which grew louder and louder, tolling away his future prospects with every passing second, every swing of pendulum that balanced his livelihood…

He did no recover from his petrified state and fixation on his looming political and royal damnation until Odette collapsed against him in unabashed hysterics. Only then, blinking furiously in his frenzied confusion, did he realize that the maid had gone.

“I don’t know why it’s funny, but it is,”

Neither her apparent amusement, nor her relieved kisses did little to ease his shock. Numbly, he stared at Odette, regaining his shallow breath in stuttering gasps. It was a marvel, at the very least, that she did not acknowledge the severity of the fate which they had narrowly escaped. It made their tangled relation with Prince Rian seem innocent and forgiving in comparison. Bartering in blackmail and unfortunate pacts for leniency was one matter. Thwarting the entity of gossip was, by far, another task entirely, if not an impossible one. Berlus was not unaware of the system of indentured servitude and its dangers. Rumors and illicit hinting rushed down the line with unstoppable enthusiasm. If they had been discovered, literally dripping in the accusations of their affair, the riches of the kingdoms combined could not have silenced the maid entirely. The tiniest glance in their direction, the faintest of whispered words behind their backs would ultimately culminate in a public reveal before it was properly due.

Berlus should have been furious. As a man—as a Prince, no less, abiding her faults was inexcusable. Even in the privacy of his guestroom (or so it had previously seen), enlightening discipline or punishment seemed appropriate, perhaps mandatory.

Well, reprimands of similar effect would have necessitated immediate application on this reckless imp, had it not required the residing Prince of Helios to issue them. As the adrenaline faded, and his heart paced evenly once again within in chest, he found himself shaken, and drained- anything, but vengeful or malicious. It was fitting, that she laughed; released her nerves, her fears in an inexplicable, uncontrolled bought of joviality, for her own sake- and, possibly, for his, as well.


“And anyway, since I don’t believe we are going to end up bathing sincerely, and we’re locked in, and the water’s getting cold, I’m getting out. You can linger a little, or whatever you’d like, but I’m going to bed.”

Her firm grasp on his shoulder for balance as she climbed carefully from the clawed bathtub, distracted Berlus from his recollecting thoughts. He looked up at her, the water settling around his drawn knees, and blushed. When they had been interrupted, and nearly caught in the midst of their moistened interlude, he had been too engrossed with the prospects of their eminent danger. So, he had failed to noticed how close she had gotten to him- or when she had actually pressed herself against him, helpless in her fit of giggles. As she gathered herself in a towel and exited into the bedchamber, his starkly uncensored view of her pleasing form darkened the scarlet hue with unintended vigor. He watched as she sauntered to the curtains, pulling them across the windows that framed the night as it fell silently upon the world. He watched as she finished with her hair, and then perched on his bed, tugging the sheets around her- Wait, she…

“O-oh, right.” He exclaimed blankly. She had… seemed quite adamant when she had declared her plans to remain for the night. He could attempt to make her leave, but that would prove fruitless, surely. With shame and embarrassment, he hesitantly considered an addition to the collection newfound desires, that he really did not want her to leave at all.

He clambered out, catching the rim of the tub before his slipped on the expanding puddle of water creeping across the floor, fresh drops racing down his ankles. Quickly, for he was painstakingly aware of his exposed flesh, though strangely thought hardly of drying himself thoroughly, he took a towel for himself and cinched it around his waist. Stepping hesitantly through the doorway, he approached the bed, pausing before her.

Despite that they had just left one moment of intimacy for the next, Berlus found he was still rather tentative when it came to simply beholding her in such a… natural presentation of her form. He contemplated his wet feet, stiffly shifting his weight. However many ways he tried to avert his eyes, with a contemplative frown pressing at his lips, his gaze aimlessly returned to her, his blue eyes briefly touching upon the folds of the sheets that wrapped around her waist, her glossy arms, and back to her glistening face.

“You- you are not going to d-dress for bed?”

[ollie]

Odette turned at his voice, eyes on his face. “You—you are not going to dress for bed?” She considered this question, such a simple one, before nodding silently, deciding it not important enough for words. Why dress for bed, anyway? They’d just been in the bathtub together, and if there was no greater intimacy than being in the bathtub with a man not yet your husband, she was quite out of her mind. While being in the bed with a man you are not married to was scandalous, it was a common rumor—the bathtub ignited a different explanation, the explanation that they had already been in bed and were then cleaning themselves. No, she felt little reason for dressing for bed when she’d just been skin-to-skin with her future husband.

She looked him over, still dripping from the bath, having obviously not dried himself properly. A towel hung around his lower half, and she found it almost… sweet that he still found himself bashful around her, considering the circumstances. She half-smiled, though was vaguely distracted by the ideas of scandals and gossip. They’d come so remarkably close, only a few moments ago, of being found by a woman doubtlessly accessible to everyone. Her name had almost been ruined, just like that, and Berlus’s character as a man marked. They’d almost lost everything they’d carefully pieced together in only a few stolen nights, an everything that had been already caught by the (damned man that she would see killed, if you asked Odette) Silian prince. They were already in debt to another country, one she had loathed since the moment it had stolen so many away from Regina in war, and they weren’t even set rulers. Their fate was still hanging in the balance, constantly being nudged in different directions, while constantly coming back to the fact that it was held so strongly together by emotion.

That was what bothered Odette the most. It was emotion that held their union together, and barely an official one at that; it was passion, love, desire—but what if it all burned out? What if she got old and weary and had so many children that Berlus no longer looked at her with interest, or even respect? She’d first die, she knew that; she wished to never be old and ugly, to die the moment her beauty left her, for fear Berlus bedded some little whore he found wherever. It was that damned deep seated paranoia her mother had planted in her, long ago, that beauty faded and men lost interest, and you should be more interesting and intelligent than beautiful and sweet, because if a man no longer looks your way when you say something, there is little point in sitting so close as to be seen by him. Admittedly, it did terrify her that men would so easily disregard their women, give them away just like that, and as she thought of it she swallowed around the knot in her throat, that bitter taste in her mouth that came with tears. Tears came with frustration rather than sadness, someone had told her once, and she wondered if that was why they were stinging the backs of her eyes now, warning her.

Making sure she’d turned her face away, Odette finally spoke. “I know you don’t, Berlus, but I remember the first time I met you. Well, no. The first time I saw you. I was with Adalia, as always, and I was fifteen. You were… nineteen at the time, I assume. You’d come with your father to meet the dignitaries of Regina, especially Adalia. Wearing a jacket like that bright one you wore the other night. I don’t remember if you were graying or not, but I remember you smiled at a joke once.” She paused, her voice quiet and soft in the silence of the room. She looked at him now, looking him directly in the eye. “I remember that you weren’t like the other princes, that I didn’t find you pompous or merely horrendous. You had so much class, not endless bouts of confidence. You were always a good man, Berlus, that’s the only reason why I know you should be with Adalia, not I. But I don’t think she’d marry you, anyway, if she knew I loved you. Not on any level of hell. I couldn’t care less if anyone found us, if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you. I’m remarkably lucky; I’ve known that from the moment you kissed me.”

She yawned, the strenuous work of the day finally catching up to her, and lie back, head on one of the pillows. “So, no, I’m not dressing. I’m not ashamed of this.” she said softly, eyes half-closed.

[/size][/justify]

[dede]

While her newest anecdote beckoned his curiosity, he watched Odette settle into the feathered pillows with distracted attention, the sharp rustling of goose feathers and the crackle of the fresh bed sheets falling softly upon momentarily deaf ears.

Similar to her previous recollections of early encounters, Berlus recalled little of the aforementioned meeting between his Helion party and the hosts of Regina, nor could he remember even the faintest of phantom images portraying a younger Odette, close to the side of the Princess. Though, in consideration for the chronology, and with a heavy tinge of depression, his hair had just begun to turn silver at that age. Intermingled with his translucent shade of blond, however, no one would have plainly noticed his premature changes without careful examination.

For all those memories he no longer possessed of that meeting, or had been infected by the sensations of cramped boredom and irritated fits of sneezing from a lengthy carriage ride, there remained the singular clarity of laughter locked away with a quivering smile. He… did not remember the actual conversation or the event that appealed to him; a double entendre, or an unintentional connotation that had charmed only the Prince. Yet he still retained that sensation of passing mirth, which had escaped his held countenance in a quietly muffled smirk.

That was three years ago, at the very least, when he was a younger man; when he did not submit to his temptations, or fall in love with the closest friend of his intended suitor, or with anyone at all! Of course, Princess Adalia could not marry him, not after the heinous devilry of his actions! The Prince of Helios was now the epitome of a man who had strayed too far from any measure of goodness, no matter what Odette insisted.

The burning guilt he believed to have conquered and purged through his proposal leered expectantly from the silken shadows cast across her bared skin, stretching from the curls of hair strewn across the pillow… It was then, as his eyes lingered on hers, so strangely inviting in their tranquility, that he realized the threat of crippling doubt carried no substance. He had no will to sustain or feed the voracious dread, and it trickled away through his fingers, despite its viscous reluctance, leaving behind nothing more than empty hands and a sudden desire for the warm, soft kiss of her flesh beneath his palms.

Lifting his towel, he mopped away the last of the water clinging to his skin. Lacking any sort of trust on his part to simply climb over Odette to his designated side of the bed, he slowly walked around the frame, lest he betray the rising flutter of his heart or the aggravating fashion his breath seemed to catch in his throat, and abandoned his moistened towel on the decorated comforter, folded with half-hearted interest.

“Good.”

His knees sunk into the mattress with a gentle sigh, as he sidled towards her. Pressing his back against the intricate headboard, he unfurled his legs before him with a fleeting grimace, his knees complaining with audible pops.

“Odette,” Chuckling dryly, he pulled his right leg in and tentatively kneaded his calf. “It seems I grow older by the second.”

[ollie]

Odette watched him wordlessly, half-grimacing at the pops of his knees. She sat herself up a little straighter, scooting over and wrapping her arm around him, ignoring the fact that he was nude. She reached down, pulling the sheets up to his waist as well, temple to his chest. She studied him, mutely looking at their bodies next to each other—the complete difference, the strange similarity being their hips, though hers gently shaped her body, not quite protruding like they had when she was a child. “Here, I’ll do that.” she said, moving forward and gently taking the calf, kneading it carefully. Once the muscles had relaxed, she let go, though bent it slightly. She leaned down, kissing his knee softly. She looked up at him, smiling, hand running down his calf before it left him, supporting her as she moved to straddle him, mischief glinting in her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly and carefully, before leaning down to kiss his forehead. Odette let out a soft breath, studying him. “Are we going to…? I mean, are we going to do it?” she wondered, the bravery to say ‘have sex’ leaving her now. It was strange, that she could say it to anyone else, but now, as it had so much more weight—as it was a question, even possibly a request if you looked at it a certain way—it made the word stick in her mouth, not ready to escape. She could feel herself blushing, and it felt so silly, to be blushing around her fiancé, a man that was looking at her naked.

Odette sighed, moving off him and lying down, not pulling the sheets up. She stared at the ceiling before laughing, a wide smile stretching across her face. “I feel so stupid, blushing about this, but I just… I don’t want to mess this up. I want to have a good start to all of this.” she said, wetting her lips. And it was true. She was so scared, so scared that one wrong move would ruin this—it felt scarier than wondering if a man would come home from battle, as she was a part of this, feeling like she was floundering. And Odette never floundered. She usually knew how to talk, how to handle something, but right now she’d never dealt with this, never dealt with the idea that she was about to be closer to a man than she’d ever been. Actually, she already had been—she was naked with a naked man, which outdid everything she’d done before.

She yawned, stretching her legs before looking at him. “I don’t care if you get older, anyway. I’m going to get older. We’re going to grow old together, now that we plan to be married. I’ll always remember you as this man I see now.” she said quietly, yawning again and rolling to her side, fluffing the pillow beneath her head. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked, smiling, looking much more relaxed.

[dede]

Her eyes explored with an obvious leisure and charmed meditation that he could not duplicate. When his gaze dared to wander from her glowing cheeks, which enhanced the youth and vibrancy drawn by the contour of her lips, her adventurous touch beckoned the return of his attention and called fervently upon the violent blush warming his skin. He stared, owlish and wholly entranced by her expression, her eyes...

And then, in what seemed the seconds suspended between a heartbeat and a baited sigh, she had drifted from his legs, where she had molded away the cumulative aches and strain, and now clung to him, arms entwined around his neck. He would have moved from her, flinched as her thighs settled on top of his own, or pulled away from the intentioned curl of her smile, but so taken was he by the gentle, yet declarative pulse of her life against his skin, the rhythm of her chest pressing into his own as she took one measured breath of air after another, he could only gasp softly as she placed a single, languid kiss on his brow.

Even the silvered brush of her voice absolved little of the bodily enchantment that singularly occupied his mind. But her hushed indecision dawned upon his conscience; the innocence of her worldly question stirred his thoughts into a lilting drift. He considered her words with vague, though striving efforts to derive an answer.

Suddenly, the possibility of such an act- lewd, tangled in illicit implications, and pithy in moral value- shocked him no less than the intimacies they had already shared that evening, and the nights before. Again, however, the brazen notion of making love startled the otherwise and previously chaste Prince of Helios. He blinked, as if attempting to listlessly bat away the tremendous weight of such an issue with simple reconciliations. The looming possibilities, and devastating consequences, of engaging in intercourse, while dulled with the mutually of their decision, lessened his state of heated intoxication with her entire existence, nor could he deny them. Rumor and accusation hardly justified abstinent in comparison of greater repercussions. If, by the machinations and all-too-frequent success of devastation and misfortune, they refused the sanction of marriage under the scrutiny of his father and the will of his kingdom, or that of hers, and she bore a child, the greatest, if not most terrifying stigma of all… His cruelty would be unforgivable; neither a crime he could not suffer to carry nor, least of all, ask her to share it with himself.

When she moved from his legs, the composition of their bodies no longer supplemented his enamored daze, which had begun to fade in the shadows of his darkening contemplations. Though such figments dissipated eagerly in the clarity of her laughter, and he turned his head to look down at her as she situated herself besides him, her form exposed with admittance of her fears that then crumbled underneath her declarations to capture this moment, his image grayed between youth and premature deterioration; to these, he smiled.

“So, what are we going to do?”

Berlus remained silent, withholding the answer that desperately begged for vocation. For a moment, his eyes travelled down her legs and paused at the opposite wall, the sight of which seemed to inspire some sort of internal decision. His smile softened. Returning his gaze to her face, he found her expression collected and visibly eased, even in the presence of her naked lover, which, in turn, cultured a similar look of relaxation and tranquility upon his features.

“Well...”He slid deeper onto the bed, pushing away the sheets caught around his legs. Then, he mirrored Odette until he was parallel with her body, no more than a small matter of inches and linens between before he proped himself up on an elbow. Sighing gently, he gazed down upon her once more.

“We could simply lie here…” With little hesitation, he reached a hand forward and parted strands of silken hair from her forehead.

“Whisper sweet nothings until the sun returns.” Berlus mused humorously, his fingers lingering for a moment on the tender skin of her cheek. ”But, I am your Prince.”

So, I am here only to serve you.” He finished, leaning down slowly to press a kiss to her lips.

[ollie]

odette was still somewhat awed by the vulnerability of their nudity. her top teeth pulled at the skin of her bottom lip nervously, watching him settle so comfortably. “well…” he pushed the sheets off of him, and she blushed slightly, the color in her cheeks making her appear so much sweeter, which was a side rarely seen by anyone other than berlus or adalia. “we could just lie here…” the brush of his fingertips across her forehead made the skin practically tingle with surprise, with pride, as if saying he touched me! he touched me! take that, shoulder, he touched me! “whisper sweet nothings until the sun returns.” it was an absurd idea, and she knew it was intended to be from the humor that lighted his eyes, his voice. she giggled softly, another gesture seen rarely by anyone but berlus. even adalia rarely heard her giggle. “but i am your prince.” it was odd, how it felt to think that he was her prince—that she was lower in title than him but he seemed to be, so easily with the choice of words, making himself hers, making her higher than him (which was as absurd as what he’d said before).

“so, i am here only to serve you.” again, it was ridiculous, but she didn’t think of saying much of anything because he was now kissing her. it electrified her, almost as equally as the first time, and she felt the same shock. the meek prince berlus of helios had the, let’s say, gall to kiss her, in such circumstances. she’d been kissed before, sure, by the knight she’d been engaged to, but there was something different to these kisses. the passion was less mixed; it was more love, more devotion, more… promise in a single contact. her lips parted, quite innocently, as she let out a sigh, pulling away from the kiss to breathe, since, unfortunately, they needed air from each other at least once in a little while. in the darkness, she could hardly see anything, but they were close enough that she could see the blue of his eyes, and that they were all for her. it practically stole her breath.

“i think we should have intercourse.” she blurted quietly, and blushed red once she realized she’d said it. “i mean… well, i do mean what i said, but i mean that we should make love. intercourse is such a horrendous word—it’s so factual and blunt and i don’t think it’s as blunt and factual as it sounds. i mean, we’re in love. right? we both said ‘i love you’ and that’s a really big step and even though we’ve known each other for such little time, intimately known each other i mean, i don’t think we need any more time to know that we should do this. we’re engaged. what better way to convince your father that he should agree to this… this binding, i suppose? but that’s not… i mean—” she broke off exasperatedly, hating how her anxiety contributed to such… word vomit. because that was exactly what she was doing. vomiting words.

“and i want you,” she whispered, collecting herself enough to continue in a calmer way. “i feel like i’ve been lit on fire on the inside and you’re my savior. but i don’t want to cool off, i want to continue burning if not make it more of a… satisfying burn rather than a desperate one. i’m in love with you and i doubt there’s any other way to show you this, that i’ve never felt anything like this before and you’ve changed me. i want you to change me a bit more. i want…” here she trailed off, her voice losing its certainty. but she was certain. this feeling—lust, a name she’d heard whispered scandalously—felt like it would swallow her alive if he wouldn’t have her. if he refused her, or this carnal pleasure, she thought she might die. her foot, in about the same way it had begun this whole pursuit (as it had found him the first night they’d been together, so to speak), ran against his shin, gently, but this time a bit more suggestively than the first. and hopefully, this time berlus wouldn’t fall. “i want you,” she said with deliberate intent, each word firm but private, all their own, “to take my virginity.” no blush lit up her cheeks, no embarrassment—it was honest, painfully so, and there was no embarrassment that ensued. she just wanted him to say yes or no, and if he said no, she would be damned if she would leave it at that.

she pushed herself up onto her elbows, catching his mouth in a kiss, hand closest to him running across his chest, to his shoulder, and down his arm, stopping at the elbow on the other side of him. she pulled back, being the one to end the kiss again, the hand on his elbow moving further to his hand. twining their fingers, she smiled at him, lying back. so, suggestive to a point, but still she wasn’t embarrassed. she was beyond embarrassment by now. for heaven’s sake, she was nude and had just asked him to… take what made her pure, so to speak. “haven’t you wondered? don’t you wonder how it would feel? thought about having me with you when you’re falling asleep? i have, but only since i met you.” she breathed. they were damned by now, if it was possible. he wasn’t hers to take, but she’d taken him. she was a virgin lying nude by a man she desired. what could she possibly do to make her ticket to hell any more direct? she didn’t even care, after all—damnation was like a fanciful expression by now, rather than a true belief in her opinion. “or you can feel like this for the rest of the night while i sleep next to you without clothes. your choice.”

no was not an answer tonight.

[dede]

When he was forced from her to regain his breath, the need seemed trivial. With each passing kiss, the subconscious want of air was rapidly diminishing into an irritation that kept him from her, that painfully severed that connection, which he was exceedingly eager to rekindle at the lilting sound of her rewarding sigh. But her next words, bold, poignantly blunt, yet affected by her haste, refused his advances as if she had placed a forbidding hand against his chest.

Though cloaked by the shadows of his night-washed chambers, he could still see her cheeks darken, as if startled by the brazen nature of her own idea. And, consequently, he blushed as well. The voiced suggestion of the act—the act of sex, no, more accurately in their delicate situation, fornification, carried with it an emphasis that existed beyond the tone and inflection of her words, and one that he had failed to acknowledge in previous subjugations of their affair. The crowding labyrinth of crucial analysis, doubt, and all other misgivings lurched from the recesses of his mind once again, before they were swept passively away by the rapidity and onslaught of her nervous explanation.

And to that, his quiet smile only grew, in silent and contented awe, as he suddenly began to realize how truly similar they were, however indescribably so. If this was not plainly an example of such, he would have found further elucidation exceedingly difficult to discover, especially at this moment. Not only were they made equal in their nakedness, but in the state of their mind as well. Her fears, her aspirations, her passions were suddenly his own, as they had always been the moment she entered his room that evening. She could even voice what he could only consider with intangible thought and withheld yearnings.

As she continued, her tone softened with the attempt to further her point, her ultimate desire, the enticing grace of her foot drawn against his leg pulled him closer to her conclusion, biting in its forward clarity.

He could not answer, for he was quickly occupied by her next kiss. She fell away from him, his hand locked within hers. With excruciating attention, he examined their entangled fingers, briefly lost to, yet all the more aware of her presence.
To give her chastity, in exchange for his own; this is what she wanted, but did he?

“Odette…”

Pausing for one last second, his eyes then travelled the smooth skin of her arm, to her lips, her eyes. For the first time that night, his mind was utterly blank, except for the presence of his final resolve.

He spoke with gentle affection.

“I… I cannot, I just—I cannot give you an answer.”

There would be no end to the end of her retribution, he was sure, if he did not supply her with sufficient explanation. Though…

“Not- Not with words.” He shook his head
softly, shifting until he was poised above her, his hand still clutched within her own, his elbow pressed into the bed sheets. With his other, his fingers met her cheek once again before falling past the heated glow, tracing a steady path down her neck, and then to where he felt her heart fluttering beneath his palm.

“Not with words.” And, with a kiss to seal her lips, his intentions, so began the spectacular downfall of Prince Berlus.

[ollie]

charlotte notham had raised her daughter meticulously and specifically to assure she had not become a harlot like one of her husband’s many illegitimate daughters. when she’d brushed odette’s curls gingerly and with tender care, she’d spoken to her daughter about husbands, about being a mother, even about how boys could be when she’d only been six. she’d taught her how to be sweet to princes and princesses, especially adalia, as she feared she would eventually hurt the girl (though never expected them to become such close friends), and that a good husband was one that loved you enough that no matter what bed they went to, who they laid next to, they would always come home to fall asleep and hold you. with berlus’s arm around her femininely curved waist, odette remembered the words specific to marriage. specific to infidelity.

“kings are famous for infidelity. the smartest, best queen is the one that lets her husband wander, and is not petty about it—and will fight tooth and claw while maintaining their pride—and be happy when he at least comes to bed and pulls her close and gently to tell her how lovely she was. to kiss her and be content with only that from her, to be fine with being disgusting and dirty with a prostitute in a grimy town yet need nothing but a loving touch from his wife—that is the couple that is healthiest, strongest, and even, in terms of king and queen, the best wearing the crowns. as an average woman, hope your husband works hour after hour because his harlot could be the farmer’s wife next door. easily.”

odette sighed, the soft sound whispering out into the quiet morning. her eyes wandered over the wall, then taking in the lavish comforter over the soft sheets wrapped around them. her hands ran over the velvet, rubbing the edge between her thumb and forefinger, envying the silken texture of the sheets over her legs. she wouldn’t be unhappy as queen if this was the deal. and as she rolled over, eyes focusing almost instantly on the face next to her, a slow smile creeping over her lips, she especially liked this part of the deal. the smile was legitimately giddy, and her lovely features turned absolutely radiant as she leaned closer, gently readjusting the arm around her waist, resting against one of her hips. she kissed him, just barely, inhaling his smell, overjoyed to be in bed next to him, skin to skin. it felt as though she wouldn’t be able to tell where she began and he ended, if not for the fact that the only crisscrossing appendages as his arm around her waist. she hardly cared how intertwined they were; it felt absolutely heavenly to have him so close, so divinely close.

“we’ll name our firstborn after you. prince berlus the… second? third? i don’t really know, honestly.” she breathed, whether he heard her or not. “but i’ll probably call him baby berlus, maybe just baby… and i’ll make helios proud and have as many children as possible. so we only have to worry about their wellbeing rather than their unrest with our marriage.” she sighed again, this time with a bit more conviction, before moving forward and cuddling in, resting her forehead against his chest. “i love you. i don’t care what they want or say, i love you more than life itself.” she said, quiet enough that it was private, though loud enough he could certainly hear if he were awake or on the edge of consciousness. she closed her eyes, wrapping her own arm around his waist, beneath the arm around her, though she was too awake to fall asleep, this time focusing on the simplicity of it all and how it made her happier than she’d ever been before in her life.

the idea, of being queen, was still endlessly surreal—the idea that she would wear one of those lush, fur-lined cloaks, a heavy crown on her head, these silk sheets to sleep in… she was, suffice to say, excited for the luxuries of becoming queen. but still, she’d been raised in the same classes as adalia, with the same lessons—even more extensive, as she had always been lined up to be advisor, not queen. she knew which country was a backstabber, which lied constantly, which had a weak army. all of the enemies, all of the alliances. but still, helios’s information was lost to her, and the realization somewhat shook her to her core. i don’t know anything about their traditions. yea, what they write down, but that’s not the same as the real deal. she closed her eyes, trying to conjure helios as she’d visited it. the sunlight had been endless, it seemed—even at night, when the moon was out, it seemed to pour light, bright in both day and night. she had always loved it, especially the lavender plants around the grounds, and the spare roses she could find. roses, the elusive flower—since the reginien queen had been declared allergic (odette had been very young at the time), she had seen only a rose in passing, very few times alive and directly before her. she sighed, closing her eyes, deciding that she would then have to plant as many kinds of roses possible, to make up for the lack in her childhood.

odette rubbed her eyes, decidedly forgetting the subjects at hand and sitting up, holding the sheets to her chest in a reflexive modest way. taking one of the sheets, and wrapping it around herself, she went to the window, peeking around the curtain. the sun hadn’t even taken its spot in the sky; the moon sat peevishly in the lightening sky, and not a single person roamed the grass below the window. she sighed, since that most likely meant that the maids wouldn’t come for another few hours, which was plenty of time for them to part and dress, as well as find a place for odette to hide when the maids came in. most likely under the bed—the oldest trick in the book, so to speak. thankful for their time of lull, she left the window and its heavy materials, dropping the sheet on the bed and raising the one that covered berlus. gingerly, she climbed under, sitting just below his stomach, precariously in the not-this-not-that region. “wake up,” she breathed, leaning down to kiss him, loving the freedom of nudity.

[dede]

He did not wake, even as she gently kissed him, stirred attentively against him, but her words came to him, breaking softly upon in the conscious darkness of his waking dream.

“We’ll name our firstborn after you. Prince Berlus the… second? Third? I don’t really know, honestly.”

Had he opened his eyes, to see her tucked underneath his arm, to know that his hand rested with such casual proclamation on her soft hip, the first breath he would have stolen from the morning air would have returned to the world as laughter, utterly contented in its nature and in the musing of her words. Though quiet and gentle, surely, in reverence for the darkness still hung by the moon and the lover at his side. Berlus-, if they were so blessed, then what a name for their future child. It seemed fit only for the man who chose disobey his father, his country and kingdom for the first time, and in a manner most extreme as to lie with a woman he had met mere days before. Though, and quite oddly, despite these wounds to the flesh of his character, if it was to the pleasure of his fiancé, the he would not challenge her. Not for too long, at least.

But, in the end, Berlus did not wake. Lush was his continuing slumber, caressed by her attentive touch of her fingers, her lips, and the poignant echo of her words, drawing rings in the calm landscape of his mind, like ripples in a pool of water.

“I love you. I don’t care what they want or say, I love you more than life itself.”

Even then he did not wake as she expressed her adoration, to which Berlus certainly would have returned if he had arisen to her loving call. Though, he wondered if he had smiled, if just barely, for her whispered affection inspired such an overwhelming happiness that he so desperately wished to return. With a kiss of his own, or a deep embrace as his fingers combed through the ends of her silken hair.

He achieved none of these whimsical fancies, and It was only when she slipped from him, and the bed seemed so cold without the warmth of another body beneath its sheet, and so alone he felt without her resting in his arms that he surfaced into the bracing new world, blinking against the shadows that still layered the corners of the room. Not until his blue eyes regained their focus and he found himself attentive to the minute sound of the pillow crinkling under his head, the serpentine whisper of the gossamer sheets pulled across the floor, as his gaze found the cloaked, supple form standing near the window. He sighed to himself, mingled with the ends of sleep and a passing yawn, wholly satisfied with this vision, this private joy as to witness her before him, even from afar. The brazen plait of dying moonlight that momentarily illuminated her face as she parted the curtains, the curve of the blankets folded around her frame, preserving her nakedness despite their seclusion, and perhaps her warmth, for the slight chill was evident against his skin.

When she finished in her reverent consideration and turned towards the bed, he hurriedly shut his eyes, as if it was not as his leisure to observe her beauty without her consent.

“Wake up,”

It seemed that he had not truly been surrendered from his sleep until she kissed him. He lifted a hand and let his fingers trail down her check, parting the hair that curled against her tender neck in feathery tendrils.

“… Good morning.” Drawing a languid breath, he smiled up at her until he could no longer suppress another drowsy yawn.

[ollie]

odette smiled as he ran his hand along her cheek, feeling the shift of her hair as he combed his fingers through it, and stifled a shudder as she felt her hair brush against her neck as he unsettled it. “… good morning.” he smiled, and then a yawned parted his lips. she yawned as well, covering her mouth (like any good lady – that was one of the few teachings ‘of a lady’ that had stuck with her), and slipped off of him languidly, as if they weren’t the least bit together in a silent scandal. one of her arms stretched across his middle, her hand tucking under his side to hold him to her, and her head nestled into the curve of his shoulder, her eyes watching him in the sort of playful way a child might when they’re playing hide-and-seek with a friend. though this was not hide and seek, and he was no mere friend – her lover and fiancée, though, more officially, he was primarily her lover. she smiled wider, giddy now that it had all settled in, and kissed his shoulder. she was, admittedly, equally content with such a chaste kiss, one that was more one-sided than all the rest they had shared, though it was probably because she’d just gone so far past scandalous it wouldn’t even be able to reach their time zone.

she mulled through her thoughts, overall pleased by the fact that her mother would have a heart attack if she knew her daughter was having an affair (though, she would recover instantly when realizing it was with a foreign princess and would lead to her daughter becoming queen), and that her father would have, so to speak, an overwhelmingly joyful day when realizing that he was marrying his daughter to an heir to a throne. the sheer thought, that she was going to be a queen – a queen, what an idea – made her stomach tingle with metaphorical butterflies, and she giggled almost secretively. afterwards, though, she was silent, almost listening to their perfect quiet, and into it she whispered, to pop it’s pregnant width, “my mother will have a heart attack. and my father will be drunk with joy.” she grinned, peering at him with an impish sort of look, one that could only be made so whole by a notham like herself.

she almost rocketed up into a sitting position, her back perfectly straight, until she let it bow forward as she put her weight on her elbows, and her elbows on her knees, which were bent from an indian style sitting position. “oh my,” she said quietly, her hand reaching up to her face, fingertips settling against her lips as if she was searching to make certain that she was really here, and that this was really happening. she was going to be a queen. a queen! adalia, sure, maybe even one of her sisters – but her? the wildest card out of the notham deck: her father would surely declare her insane unless she brought berlus with her, and if it were not for the fact that he had his signature silver hair, he would consider him an imposter. “oh berlus, i’m going to be queen.” she gasped, looking at him with a sudden look of surprise, as it had just suddenly settled in that she would have the weight of a country on her shoulders, just because of her choices in love. “i mean, i mean… queen. of helios. i’ve been to helios about a handful of times and all i paid attention to were the palominos – and lovely palominos they are, just splendid – and the lavender gardens. i mean… i hardly know anything about helios! regina education teaches more about silus and warring countries rather than such a sweet little country like helios, and—and i’m supposed to be the queen? because we’re going to marry! because now we have to, because we just made love, and oh my—”

she gulped in air, more out of surprise rather than because she was running out of it; she had been unsettled and she had to let it all out, as she had since she was a little girl. “oh dear, i’m going to be a queen. and i’m such a horrid person, so cruel and evil… and helios is such a sweet little country. and oh, it’s between silus and regina – just perfect, really, since we all know that the only reason rian has been sent is so silus can take regina. oh dear, oh dear… you realize that will mean your father must make allies with regina, as soon as adalia weds rian, which she has to because i’ve put my big foot in all of this. a-and we have to become allies with the gypsies. must. they’ll protect regina and helios in a minute, just to upset silus. my father is very close with the gypsies… we’re supposedly part gypsy, the nothams… a gypsy family ourselves…” she covered her face with her hands, still panicking, her heart hammering in her chest as she thought long and hard. “we’ll be doing this a lot. making love, you know, because i have to give you a lot of sons, don’t i? hopefully this will give us a son because if i just become queen and have no sign of fertility… oh dear, that would end in mutiny. and i have to be proper. dammit, i’ve always hated to be proper, but i suppose i must…”

she let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her face. “ah, well. all in the name of love, i suppose.”

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