The Heart Asks Pleasure First (Methos x Snow)

The sudden death of the Crown Prince of Aldamor’s young betrothed, the Duchess Dulciena of Wyrn, sent Aldamor’s neighboring Kingdom’s into a bartering frenzy over the Prince’s hand. The Duchess of Wyrn had been a modest girl from one of the provinces of Aldamor; a typical selection, for the Royals of the country did not often seek foreign brides. However, the young girl’s death was taken as an omen of sorts, and the grand seal of Aldamor’s Royal family was pressed onto numerous letters of which were sent to their most eager neighbors. Aldamor was a kingdom of great prestige after all; fertile wealth and deep tradition…Which contributed to a grand majority of the raised eyebrows, when Princess Charlotte of Charlemagne was selected as the Crown Prince’s new bride…

Charlemagne was, needless to say, a considerable opposite of Aldamor. Though the landscape was equally as rich and beautiful, the morals of the country were quite lax in comparison...Charlemagne was filled with breathtaking artists, exquisite composers, and people who wore masks to balls, and not the sort put on everyday to fit into composed society as in Aldamor…A Kingdom ruled by a Regent Queen, who permissed extravagant parties with gambling and games, with a daughter who certainly indulged herself in the lofty lifestyle of a Princess without a father and without rules. Why then would such a Kingdom as Aldamor ever align with one as Charlemagne? The Kingdom was excessively wealthy, and the financial despair in Aldamor had spread as quickly as the plague that claimed the Duchess Dulciena….and the fact that Princess Charlotte was quite radiant, had not gone unnoticed by the King and Queen of Aldamor. A foreign beauty, with long dark hair and hazel eyes, but a beauty nevertheless.

Two weeks, the Princess and her attendants traveled from her home country to the country of her betrothed. Lord Choiseul, whom would act as Ambassador between the two Kingdoms, as well as two ladies in waiting whom had been attendants to Charlotte since she was a small girl. Two long weeks of card games while cramped inside a carriage that lurched forward with every stone in the road, sending cards flying off of their piles and onto the floor, beneath long skirts which were not easily pushed aside. The carriage carrying the Princess was followed by two others, one filled with her clothing and other belongings, and the other filled with her dowry. Over 100,000 gold coins, lavish jewelry, beautiful portraits and sculptures from Charlemagne…Though it was arguable that the Princess’ clothing alone were worth more than all over her dowry…She was known as an icon of fashion in her country for a reason after all.

On the day she arrived in Aldamor, it was the day of her wedding. The first day she would meet her husband, for whom she was intended to spend the rest of her life. As a maiden, she was slightly enthralled..For it was the duty of a Princess, or any woman of status for that matter, to marry. Wedding bells strung the inner most chords of the heart of all women…But her spirit was aching, and had been devastated, since her engagement was announced…For as many stories of romance and passion she had heard, there were far more of miserable and loveless unions…One could not crush the Charlemagne spirit easily however, and Charlotte was determined to make her husband fall hopelessly in love with her.

The wedding ceremony was attended by the aristocracy of Aldamor; the only members of Charlemagne’s court were Charlotte’s three companions. Nobility of neighboring nations would not see the Crown Prince’s bride until the evening’s reception, when the first wave of gossip concerning the Decadent Nymph of Charlemagne would be whispered. Aldamor’s grand cathedral was lined with rows of candles, the midday sun glittering through the stained glass windows, illuminating the wine red carpet which lined the aisle towards the awaiting Prince whom stood at the alter. The soft hum of the old organ lulled as the doors opened, revealing lavish figure of Charlotte for the first time whom literally seemed to take the breath of nearly all who saw her…if not for the radiance of her face, than certainly for the extravagance of her gown. A design of Charlemagne’s most prestigious tailors, the entire gown was made of a solid gold silk fabric. Decorated upon the hem, the skirts edges, the bodice and sleeves with a puffed silk satin of the same color, with gold stitching to accentuate a sun-like glitter. A heavily embroidered stomacher with patterns of roses and bits of pearls and diamonds sewn across, that’s narrow neckline exposed the swell of the Princess’ cleavage, and sleeves lined with white lace and gold silk that stopped just above the elbow. The puff of her petticoat allowing a slight exaggeration of the curves of her lithe body, though not to the extent of the near cupcake like gowns that were fashionable in the Kingdom of Lorence. Her beautiful brunette curls styled ornately and high upon her head, decorated with small silver ribbons and white flowers to match the large silver and diamond choker, which fit exquisitely around her small neck. She was certainly a sight to behold…With chin raised high, and a soft smile dancing upon her painted lips, Charlotte seemed to glide towards the alter…Her eyes were set however, upon the Prince..her husband, in a matter of moments..whose back was towards her.

That was unsettling..

The slightest twitch tweaked Charlotte’s brow as she approached the alter..A wrenching seizing her stomach for fear of a scandalous reaction slipping out if his appearance was…lack. Had he been facing her during her walk down the long aisle, than she would have had time to prepare herself…but now his face, the face of her future, would come to be as much of a surprise as his proposal…

She took his extended hand gently, stepping onto the stair beside him…From the corner of her eyes she studied his features, her heart racing beneath her breast. I cannot tell…Is he…No, I should not dwell on such vanities but…still…is he… Such frantic thoughts had clouded her mind, distracting her from the words being spoken by the Priest before her…The man cleared his throat, asking her once again to repeat the words that would bind her to this country and to her husband for all time…

Divorce was not legal in Aldamor, as it was in Charlemagne..

Til Death, was to be taken quite literally..

Charlotte drew in her lips, feeling a soft blush of embarrassment rise to her lily white skin. She smiled, with a girlish charm towards the Priest to nod, “I do…” before turning elegantly to face her husband for the first time..

Re: The Heart of a King (Methos x Snow)

For one about to be married, the Crown Prince displayed a decided lack of enthusiasm. He stood rather rigidly, with his back as straight as a ramrod and his face composed into what appeared to be a regal look of solemn duty. Was Prince Phillip pleased to be marrying some tarted up princess from Charlemagne? His expression suggested not in the least. All reports rather suggested that he’d been rather melancholy. He had been immensely fond of the late duchess he had been expected to marry today, and whom he had been betrothed too for some time. She had suited him entirely - deferential, but engaged and willing to assist in what he set his mind too. She would have been the perfect queen, aiding his rule and doing nothing to detract from it, nor was she likely to have ever been a source of problems.

Instead he was stuck with some gaudy scion of a nation of decadent traders who was entirely inappropriate. Aldamor’s finances were somewhat strained - a plague tended to have that effect. Time would bring things bouncing back now that the pestilence had past. Yet the royals had spent a small fortune seeking to preserve their people and spare them the worst of the diseases with priests and doctors having been sent from far and wide, and food provided to the widows and orphans that the plague had created. Taxes were down as businesses and agriculture both sought to deal with labour shortages due to illness and death.

The Prince had thought if money was what was needed he’d gladly lead the army into one of their weak neighbours, conquering and looting to fill the royal treasury. The kingdom’s strength had always been its rather fearsome military. The training, precision and size of the Aldamorian army had always given the country much sway with its neighbours. The rather rigid attitude of the Kingdom’s nobility leant itself well to soldiering. For they almost seemed to crave the hardship and deprivation involved in war to demonstrate their ability to persevere and thereafter overcome whatever obstacles may be put before them.

The Prince was clad entirely formally, in military uniform. The leather of black boots seemed to gleam, while black pants, were matched with a black coat whose ornamentation consisted of silver trim and buttons, as well as silvery lion emblems worked along the sleeve and shoulders. With an equally dark shirt, he cut a rather somber and severe figure. His appearance seemed to much match his garb. His features had a slight swarthiness to them. A tanned colouration gracing his skin, matched with dark hair and eyes. He stood three inches over six feet in height. His shoulders were broad and his frame rather muscular. The prince liked all his fellows fancied himself above all else a warrior, so war, hunting and the discussion and study of the previous too were most of what captivated his attention. He was deemed a handsome man, and when he’d taken to the field of battle he’d acquitted himself boldly and been most successful in leading his men.

The Prince took himself very, very seriously, and now was to be married to a girl who not only came from as strange a place as Charlemagne, where they didn’t even have a king! But whom was rumoured to be altogether too free and family with members of the court there and drink, play and cards and all other manner of things that were entirely unbecoming of a princess. He was almost certain before he’d even met the woman that should would be nothing but trouble and likely only to serve as an embarrassment as opposed to advancing his interests.

As the woman approached the altar where he stood, his eyes scrutinized her. His face remained essentially unreadable. However, he conveyed little by way of approval. The woman was certainly pretty enough. That he could grant, although gaudy in her garb. Painted and sparkling with gem stones and wealth in a manner that was simply unseemly. He was left to wonder if ‘tasteful” or “modest” had ever even entered into the vocabulary of her country. His suspicion was that they had not.

The Priest was heard droning through the various formalities that surrounded the event. Eventually he read out the recitals of duties and inquired if the Prince intended to marry the woman in question. Rather formally he replied “I do”. At which time he produced a ring from his pocket and despite his distaste for finery, it was indeed a ring worthy of a queen. A stunning diamond set against gleaming rubies with threads of gold woven between the cluster of precious stones. He heard her answer in the same manner although perhaps more pleasantly. But with her answer he slide the ring upon her finger and the priest pronounced the married.

Phillip stepped closed towards the woman and leaned downwards to press his lips against her own. He kissed her firmly although without any particular relish for the task. But it was expected of him thus he did so. Thereafter, he turned to face the crowd assembled and raised his hand to acknowledge those who now cheered assuming that this event was cause for celebration. He didn’t discourage them from that notion as it would not have given the proper appearance so to some extent he played along.

“I believe we are expected at the banquet.” He noted and thereafter offered his wife his arm. Intending to lead her through the palace to the hall in question. Some manner of entertainment and feasting had been planned as befitted a royal wedding. It was to be a grand affair and dignitaries both local and foreign all wished a chance to ingratiate themselves with the future king and his bride. Which in simple terms meant that the next several hours were going to be irritating and full of people seeking favours. It did little to improve his mood to think that.

Re: The Heart of a King (Methos x Snow)

His voice seemed as cold as his expression…Charlotte’s eyes had averted in their attention the moment she noticed his staring, with much more intensity, back towards her from the corner of his own eyes. Of course, she was not surprised to find him curious, as she had been as well…but the grim countenance plastered stonely upon his face sent an unsettling chill down her spine. Why did he look so…appalled?

Drawing her lips inward somewhat, Charlotte’s eyes fixated upon the flickering light of the unity candle burning upon the alter before them. Since the announcement of her engagement to the Crown Prince, Charlotte had remained relatively ecstatic at the idea of marriage. She had never one considered that her new husband would not…like her. The idea was unfathomable to her! And for the moment, had literally stalled the heart beat beneath her breast.

All of Charlemagne adored her…At least she thought they did, but not she had begun to question their sincerity in a moment of desperate insecurity. There had been countless people there to bid her farewell, some even dressed in black as if mourning her loss! But had all of that been for show? A façade to appease the nobility? For as much as she had, Charlotte was equally as charitable…Her influence on her mother had provided a significant abundance in Charlemagne’s economy, elevating the poor and destitute of her country. Surely..Surely they cared for her? Her friends, her companions whom had accompanied her? Did they hold any genuine interest in her apart from her crown?

A sharp inhale brought Charlotte back into reality…Fluttering her eyelashes somewhat to regain her vision as the Priest bid them to face one another. The slightest of flames burned in the depths of the Princess’ hazel eyes, as she turned to face her husband, extending her hand out delicately to receive her ring. How could he strip her of all her confidence, without any words? No man, nor woman for that matter, had ever been able to make her doubt herself for a moment in the entirety of her life! And yet within the first few seconds of meeting this man, a man she was bound to spend the rest of her life beside, had managed to send her into a near panic attack with just a sideways glance!

Nevertheless, Charlotte smiled elegantly towards her new husband. A slight quirk to her brow as he leaned in with such a dignified stiffness, placing his lips firmly against her own with as much passion and warmth as scorpion…Her smile remained, though perhaps now lingering out of a sense of disbelief than any girlish delight. Reality was slowly settling in for the Princess, and as they turned to face the audience, Charlotte was confronted by a sea of hundreds of scrutinizing eyes. Never had she felt so objectified in Charlemagne…So utterly insignificant…

But now, such was not the way for a Princess of any sort to think! Particularly, a Princess from a foreign nation, who would hence forth carry the reputation of duel countries upon her slender shoulders. Charlotte once more raised her chin, smiling more sincerely to the crowd as she looped her arms affectionately around her husband’s. Determination, and arguably stubbornness, were qualities long lived in the Charlemagne royal family…particularly, in regards to their women. She would have the people of Aldamor love her, and she would love them in turn…She would be the Queen never imagined by them, but much cherished…And the same would be said for her husband…

She would find some way, to find his love.

His silence however, even as they walked in procession to the banquet halls, placed significant strain upon her poise. She found herself gazing upon the rather lacking décor of the palace, wondering where all of the statues and tapestries were to be found…There were many suits of armors, maps and weaponry to be found, but nothing of any…beauty. The banquet hall was equally as bland, as far as Charlemagnian tastes were concerned. Round tables were set up, draped in dark red cloths with only a candle encased in crystal as the centerpiece. The Royal table was set up in similar fashion, though rectangular in shape and with several more candleholders, and more extravagant looking chairs…There were no fountains, no elaborate portraits, and a very skim looking group of musicians gathered into the far corner of the room as far as entertainment was concerned. Were there no card tables? No billiards? Was this not supposed to be a celebration?

Charlotte, trying her best to not look bewildered, was led to the long table at the head of the room, and sat down quietly next to her husband, who in turn was seated next to the King and Queen at the center of the table. The remainder of the seats were taken up by her brothers and sisters-in- law, as well as the eldest Princess Elizabeth’s husband, William. Beside Charlotte, was the youngest Princess Anne, as well as Lord Choiseul, who seemed as much in silent disbelief as his Princess. On the opposite side of the Queen, was Princess Elizabeth and her husband, as well as the middle and youngest princes, Wolfgang and Louis. All dressed in a similar fashion to Philip, with hues of silver and reds in their attire, Charlotte felt as if she was surrounded by funeral attendees rather than a wedding party! However, as she sat down Anne, who was more than several years her younger, eagerly leaned towards her new sister-in-law.

“Your dress is absolutely beautiful! Have you brought more like it?” She whispered, green eyes sparkling with a curiosity completely absent from her elder brother’s. Charlotte blinked several times, looking down at the young girl, before smiling radiantly and nodding in response. Perhaps not all hope was lost in Aldamor after all…

Phillip couldn’t help but reflect that the woman he had been about to marry had died not long ago, and yet a mere four months later he’d been betrothed and married all over again. There seemed a rather unseemly haste to it all. Unseemly but perhaps necessary, this he couldn’t help but feel was really his brother’s fault. If they weren’t so clearly incapable of ruling this country there wouldn’t be a rush to see him married off and siring children on one woman or another with the general opinion of his monarchical parents and their advisors that any woman of sufficient breeding would do for those purposes. The fact this one had come with a nice big bribe had pushed her right to the front of the line evidently.

It was apparently his duty to marry some woman he’d not previously even exchanged a handful of words with. Aside from a rumour and conjecture he knew nothing about the woman he’d just married. It seemed stunning to him to be tied to a complete stranger. Beyond that it was positively infuriating that he was considered capable of leading armies, and assuming control of the entire kingdom but he was simply informed that some foreign princess was now to be his wife as it appeared to be the best diplomatic outcome?

Nor had he really appreciated that oaf of a brother of his leaning over to remark that if he didn’t want her, he’d take her. The presence of a crowd of people restrained him from striking his brother. But the baleful glare directed at his youngest brother had succeeded in intimidating the man who muttered something about ‘brothers who lack a sense of humour’. While his other brother Wolfgang seemed to be restraining himself from bursting out into laughter.

As he walked to the hall with the woman on his arm, he could hardly deny that she was beautiful. She was that certainly that, although he couldn’t help but think the way her hair was piled up upon her head, and the glitter of the gown with all its gold and jewels detracted from it. It struck him as all a bit much and something of a distraction. It would be like taking a diamond and surrounding it with dozen of other stones and glint when all one really needed to do was cut that one stone right and bring it to a shining polish.

As he scrutinized his wife he seemed to sense some nervousness. He forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile to his lips as he remarked “I’m pleased the painters found no need to exaggerate, you are as lovely as I was lead to believe.” Well if nothing else it struck him as a better start to attempting to discern something of her than ‘well I’m the fellow your stuck with now, so how do you do?’ It was likely uncharitable of him to blame this girl for fact she had been foisted upon him, likely she hadn’t had much say in the matter either. Thus as the found themselves drawing near to the main table in the hall he noted “I hope you shall be happy here.”

His speech seemed to interrupt what had been evidently his own brooding thoughts. As he sat at the high table and gaze out about him, he saw nothing out of the ordinary nor objectionable about this particular banquet. Indeed it seemed much like any other marriage banquet he’d ever attended within his country but larger and more grant in its trappings and personages.

He seemed to take the astonished manner in which Charlotte looked about the room as some further evidence of her being ill at ease. He raised his cup of wine and drank from it and thereafter leaned in towards her “I really don’t know what I am to say…” He shrugged his shoulders slightly as he remarked “I admit to knowing little about you, and here I am married to you.” He smiled faintly as he noted “This was all a bit rushed that way.” He seemed to leave that matter aside as he noted “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

Although he seemed to consider other things that he might ask her as he noted “My palace isn’t far from here.” He smiled faintly “Its evidently considered only proper that a crown prince have his own household previous to being king. In any case speak if there is anything in particular you need I’m sure we can speak to the steward and he can arrange for their to be wines your more familiar with or chefs familiar with your native cuisine.” Whatever his assorted other opinions he seemed at least to have some notional belief that some minor things should be done to make her life here easier.

Lost in observation as they had proceeded to the banquet hall, she had almost missed his compliment entirely. She turned her head to face him, smiling elegantly at his words, her slender finger twisting about the sleeve of his shirt affectionately in response to his praise, despite the clearly forced smile upon his lips..which led Charlotte to inquire of the sincerity of his remark. That portrait had taken hours to paint…Posed in front of a vase of beautiful white lilies, her mother had managed to request the most uncomfortably elaborate gown of sapphire blue hues for her to wear for the entirety of the six hours. The gown was hemmed with silver threads and white lace, giving her a most radiant yet innocent appearance. That same smile which danced upon her painted lips had been captured perfectly by the artists…And regardless of her uncertainty towards the genuineness of his words, that lovely foreign nymph’s eyes glittered.

“And you are as debonair as yours..I suspect I understand why several of my ladies in waiting whom have visited Aldamor on previous occasions, were blushing at the mention of your name…”

She smiled, warmly, but there was still uncertainty, perhaps a sadness of sort, upon her face as she remembered Charlemagne…Throughout her journey to Aldamor, she had not once thought of home. No tears had been shed, though they lingered, as she left her mother’s embrace and waved farewell to her people…to her country…To everything she had ever known. And now, as she looked into the dark eyes of her husband, her mouth slightly agape as she remembered..everything

As they entered the banquet hall, she had turned her head. Her grip upon his arm slightly loosened as she looked about the room. By the time they had reached the table, Charlotte was at a loss. Her heart throbbing with homesickness, her hands folded anxiously upon her lap..the stones of her beautiful ring pressed tightly against the palm of her opposite hand..However, young Anne’s voice seemed to draw her out of that impending dismal gloom. That innocent smile contagious, bringing a smile to the face of the Crown Prince’s new bride. When he leaned in to speak with her once again, the rather potent scent of wine on his breath, she smiled gently with that same ill-ease expressed in his hesitation.

“It was indeed rather…rushed,” Her hand elegantly moved to place upon his knee, as she glanced up into his eyes, searchingly again. “But we have quite some time now, to get to know one another.” Her free hand beckoned one of the servants carrying a bottle of the wine Phillip was currently drinking. The servant gave a puzzled look, but as Charlotte smiled elegantly he placed a clean glass from his tray onto the table next to her water goblet, filling it with the scarlet substance before bowing and returning to his place at the end of the table. Rather boldly she took up the glass, looking once more to her husband, raising her wine glass between them to initiate a private toast of sorts,

“To good health, and to our future together…”

Phillip accepted the praise with a smile as he noted “Its always nice to make an impression.” The prince vaguely recalled receiving visitors from her country on several occasions. He hadn’t any idea whom she’d spoken to so he couldn’t really determine what reasons her ladies in waiting had had to blush. Idly he considered that several whom had traveled here had far more reason to blush than others. He simply noted “Many of the visitors from your country have been rather friendly in that past. I wonder if I’ve met any that accompanied you?”

He didn’t say anything in particular about the context of his having met those people, on the other hand it was likely enough to make her rather curious exactly what had transpired previously. Although he didn’t comment any further on it. He did seem to note her unease for a moment as they headed to the banquet hall. His hand patted her arm in what he thought would be a reassuring manner. In any case they headed forth to the table and there seated themselves.

Phillip had no idea why his sister had immediately taken a shine to his wife, although he got the impression that it was going to become a subject of irritation. He simply shook his head slightly at his sister. But his mind didn’t linger upon that, rather he simply nodded and agreed “We do most certainly have time to get acquainted…the rest of our lives really.” He raised his glass to her own and let it clink against hers before he downed a swallow of the scarlet liquor.

“Indeed to our health and future.” With the wine staining his lips he leaned in to kiss her. His head tilting towards her own as he rather firmly pressed his lips to her own. A rather public show of affection. After all it was what people wanted to see coming from a wedding, so he’d offer the show that was desired of him. He kissed her in a rather lingering and familiar fashion. He offered her a slightly roguish smile as he noted “And one blessed by many children.” A moment later he rather slyly added “As a crown ever needs heirs.”

The princes display was greeted with cheers and some whistles as well for that matter. Although he simply smiled and leaned back in his chair to take another swallow of wine. The prince idly noted “And what should I know about you then Charlotte? As it would seem that we are now bound together.” Another sip of wine was taken as he mused “I should not like to find out things I should know after the fact.” Soon food was being brought out on large platters by the servants and those were set before the assembled guests to take what they would from the dishes upon offer.