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Distrust & Intentions || Prodi & Mach

Prodigious Masterpiece

Pessimistic Perfectionist
Joined
Dec 29, 2014
Location
The Southern U.S. - EDT/EST
We are moving our roleplay from Private Messages to a thread.
The next two posts will be all of our previous posts until the current point in our roleplay.

The only time Charlotte Hillington ever knew true solitude was at night time in her room. Even then guards were posted in the hall outside her room, but it was as good as being alone. On any normal night it was something she enjoyed very much and often looked forward to. The castle had had no company for the week, so her evenings had been identical and equally uninteresting. For her, it was pure bliss. Curling up by the fire in the library or in her room and spending hours on a book was her favorite luxury.

As such, she'd moved from the fire to her bed with her book that night, falling asleep with it next to her. When rough hands woke her up, her scream was muffled immediately. They tied fabric around her mouth first and then her eyes. In the struggle she hadn't been able to see how many men there were, but their strength overpowered her easily. Through all her terror her only solace was feeling her nails dig into flesh, delivering a sharp scrape. There was a hushed curse, but no retaliation came her way.

Instead they rolled her over onto her stomach and her panic turned white hot, almost blacking out from what she feared would happen to her then. But they tied her hands together at her wrists, her feet at her ankles--they never touched her. Once she was lifted up she began screaming again, but it was impossible to make any real noise as gagged as she was.

Wearing only a thin nightgown and dressing gown, Charlotte was carried out into the cold night. The fabric covering her eyes and mouth were wet with her tears by the time she was dropped down onto a wooden surface and promptly covered with a sheet of fabric. How had these men passed her guards? Or any of the castle guards, for that matter? Where were they taking her?

She could only assume she was in a wagon or carriage of some kind, because they rode fast and hard. Every bump of the road they took landed square on her shoulder blade and hip, and within the first half hour she was certain she was bruised. She squirmed until she was exhausted and her body ached, but it occurred to her finally: she'd been tied up with soft fabric, not harsh rope. So if she were going to be untied, her skin would be red but it would recover almost immediately. Did they plan to keep her alive, then? Charlotte couldn't be sure the thought was comforting.

They rode and they rode and they rode. By the time the carriage slowed to a halt Charlotte had run out of tears and had spent the last few hours lulling in and out of consciousness. They lifted her up, her body almost in pain from finally being moved. Her long, blonde hair had been pulled back in a braid for the night, but that fashion state was long gone. The leader of the men hurried them along, her panic returning at full-force now that something new was happening.

The air wooshed out of her lungs as she was abruptly tossed down, but the landing was blissfully soft. She was on a bed? Squirming and resisting at full force again, the men handling her were clearly exasperated. Working against them, they relented and let her sit up on her knees.

"Please, m'lady, if you'll sit still I'll take the blindfold off."

That stilled her immediately. Sure enough, they were true to their word. It felt too bright in the room at first, and she could see out the window that it was nearly daybreak. Looking around frantically, she was astonished at where she was. It was a bedroom in a castle, a lavish one at that. She wasn't just in an upper class home, this was the home of royalty. She'd been carried out of the kingdom? Her stomach twisted at the thought of it, as there had been unrest within the kingdoms for the last few years.

Then all of the men stood suddenly at attention and he walked in. He walked right in, looking the picture of confidence and looking right at her. Blinking a few times, it hit her like a thump to the chest. Maximilian Trevaine. They'd been sixteen and seventeen the last time they'd seen one another, and now they were both nineteen and twenty. Maybe it hadn't been that long, but they were formative years. He seemed so much taller, and...well, she couldn't place it. Looking at him now, it dawned on her that they were adults.

She was in his room? But it didn't make any sense. This hadn't been the way she'd imagined meeting him again, though truthfully she'd always dreaded it. When they'd last met, it had been a disaster. Throughout their childhood they'd gotten along quite well, even remaining in correspondence--she still had his letters in her room at home. Their friendship had been important to her because Max simply wasn't friends with everyone, even if he could get along well with whomever he chose. He was a romantic, though, in the scandalous sense more often than not. His confidence worked well on most females, his reputation never suffering for it.

But then, he'd attempted to flirt with her. He'd asked her to be with him. It had been all she could do to keep her composure in the moment. Their conversations were the highlight of any ball for her, though she could usually put up with watching him eventually sneak away with some girl here or there. What had mattered then was that he treated her like a true friend, that he'd valued her thoughts and opinions. When he spoke to her, he listened. His reveal that he saw her the way he saw every other girl had been soul-crushing. His reaction to her refusal and plea for friendship had been even worse.

Yet, here he was now. He seemed angry, no he was angry. The argument he was having with his men made no sense to her out of context. The only thing she could pick up on was that Max wanted her untied, and he wanted the men to leave. Her heart continued to pound, but now there was hope. These two prospects were just fine by her. Evidently, Max won. Trembling with the adrenaline of her traumatic experience, she did not resist as she was untied. Rubbing her wrists and shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, she finally sucked in a large breath of fresh air from her mouth. Rubbing her mouth, her face of tear streaks, she ran her fingers through her mussed hair.

Watching the men file out of the room with low, wary eyes, only when they were gone did she stand on her legs. They were unsteady, but she managed. Tying her dressing gown around her waist for what proper coverage she could manage, she looked over to Max again.

"Maximilian." How long had it been sense that name had left her lips? Charlotte struggled for a moment, not knowing what to do. Should she be angry? It was hard to push passed all of her confusion. She'd fallen asleep in her bed and now she was in the Kingdom of Trevaine. Seeing him after so long, she wanted a happy reunion, but that didn't feel like what was happening. It didn't help that she felt close to breaking down again. "I don't understand what's happening."

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Maximilian Trevaine, Prince of the Kingdom of Trevaine, son of King Richard II. Everyone within the kingdom knew him, and there was a joke among some of the court that, if the citizen was female, it was likely that Maximilian 'knew' them as well. Despite these snide comments, he was surprisingly well-liked, for a hedonistic prince who indulged in parties, drink, and sex. He'd always had a trustworthy face (and a handsome one), a confident demeanor, and a charming way with words. It had only ever failed him once, and of course, with his luck, it had failed him with the one woman he'd actually cared for.

Charlotte Hillington.

The two of them had spent their early adulthood together, for the most part. The courts knew them as friends, and the social circles whispered about how she could resist him just as they whispered about how clearly oblivious he was to her physical appeal. Hardly the case of course - he'd developed a slowly growing attraction to Charlotte, though he pushed it aside time and time again, instead satisfying himself with the pleasures of other women. He knew what Charlotte thought of him and his antics. Aside from his witty banter and honest discussion, he knew she disapproved of the way he spent time with other women. How he enjoyed those pleasures. But still, they had been friends. Close friends. He'd missed that for these three years, and his indulgences had clearly mirrored that - he drank, he fucked, and he neglected any sort of real duty.

And why had she left? Him. His own stupid error. Foolishly he'd thought that she'd understand, that he had wanted her in a way unlike any other way he'd felt for a woman. But no, she'd brushed him off, pushed him away as if he were trying to seduce her like any other woman. She'd scorned him for his approach, and, given his reputation, he could hardly blame her. Still, she'd cast off years of friendship over that misunderstanding, and he'd risked it all for what? What would a man of his nature want in a real, true relationship?

Evidently, he would have no choice but to find out. There were rising numbers of revolts and uprisings in nearby kingdoms, and his father, Richard II, was convinced that an alliance with the Kingdom of Hillington would be the only way to survive outright conflict. While the Kingdom of Trevaine was militarily powerful, it lacked the economic infrastructure to handle a sustained military conflict. All the wealth generated to the royal coffers was done through trade, and without an alliance, they would rapidly fall to ruin. Naturally, an alliance between the houses through marriage was an obvious choice, but since Charlotte had moved away and her family distanced from his, his father was certain it was impossible without taking underhanded action.

To Max's disapproval and dismay, his father planned and executed the kidnapping that led him to storm into his bedroom as the guards removed her blindfold. He was dressed simply, given the hour, in a black and white tunic with the emblem of the royal family stitched on the breast. Underneath, he wore only a pair of black trousers, and a belt and knife hung around his waist.

"Untie her, and get out." He snapped, not afraid to let his anger over the situation show. the guards shifted, looking at one another, then back to him.

"Sir, our orders were to leave her bound and... supervise to prevent trouble."

Max's glare could have cut impaled a man, and the guards recoiled slightly.

"I said, untie her, and get out. I can hold my own against a princess, thank you, and I'm barely going along with this damn plan as it is. If this is going to happen, it's happening my way." He said, holding his ground. The guards once again hesitated, but then went about, following his orders and untying her before quickly fleeing the room. Pursing his lips, Max let himself turn his back on her, sliding the bolt of the door into place before turning around.

She said his name, and it was as if his anger was blown away and replaced with... regret? Sadness? It was hard to tell.

"Charlotte." He said simply, giving her a sad smile. "I'm very sorry." He added, grimacing a little bit. "What happens next isn't really up to us, but I refuse to go along with it without telling you what's happening, or why. My kingdom needs security, protection. My father knows we could not withstand an uprising without an alliance, and your kingdom is the most suited for that bond. Despite my... objections, he's made up his mind. He wants me to marry you. But, of course, he knows that your family would not just simply agree to those terms, and so... He arranged for this. For you to be brought to my room, for us to... spend a night together so that we would have to marry." That sentence came from his lips with a tone of displeasure and irritation.

"Don't mistake my tone for disgust of you." he said, stepping slowly toward her. "This... this is simply not how I would have liked our reunion to happen."

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He spoke her name and heat bloomed from her chest, prickling along her skin. It was so foreign to hear his voice after all this time, but there was also something in it that unsettled her. That he followed with immediately apologizing offered her no comfort. Anyone else may have tried to calm her or treat her like she was weak. They would have skirted around the truth, or tried to make it sound better than it was.

If anything could provide her comfort, it was that Max would just lay out the truth--even if it was going to be unpleasant. Though he face did not change, it was not shocking to hear him admit that his kingdom needed protection. Her father told her more of business matters than her mother liked, but he'd also let her continue her education beyond what was expected of a woman. She knew well that while the Kingdom of Trevaine had it's advantages, every bordering kingdom would struggle to remain afloat if a war truly broke out.

Her father had been more opaque about alliances, though it had originally given her relief to believe that he was uninterested in marrying her off for one. It felt unbelievable, but Charlotte could easily see where Max was going. As soon as he spoke the word marry her spine stiffened. Her lips parted, chest rising as she took in a breath, ready to object. It wasn't her decision, and doing it this way was no way to make an alliance.

But Max continued, revealing that his father had arranged for her kidnapping. Having met King Richard many times in her youth, it chilled her to the bone to think of it. Crossing her arms to cover herself more, nothing could prepare her for what he would say next. It was a reality so far from her own, it had never crossed her mind. Her dark blue eyes must've looked like saucers they opened so wide. The air dissipated from her lungs, the world seemed to tilt and she wondered if she were going to faint.

He stepped toward her and her mind snapped back into her body, she jerked back several steps. "Don't come near me." She snapped, her brows arching down as her rage twisted into her fear like thorns. She turned her body away from him, scandalized and horrified at the very idea. Worse than that, she was a prisoner. There was no way out. In just a few long-winded sentences he announced to her that her life was never going to be the same.

"This is abhorrent. Inhumane. I-I'm speechless." Trembling again, her fingers curled into fists as she desperately clung to what sanity she had left. "Your father never even reached out to mine about an alliance, he didn't even try! I would know if he did! Instead, this is the better option? Like thieves in the night...it's nearly morning now, it won't be long before my lady's maid comes to wake me up and finds me gone."

Her heart raced with the thought of it, but she knew even when they discovered her missing, they wouldn't know where she was. "Max." She said finally, her voice wavering just a little, betraying her emotion. "I can't just...do this." Glancing at the bed, she looked away from it immediately. Go to bed with him, almost a stranger to her now, before she was married? It was unthinkable. "If you're going to force me into this, then please can't we wait until after we're married?"

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That was one thing he had always done for her - he was always honest. Clear, concise, honest. He wasn't going to lie to her now either, even if it made what he had to do tonight so much more difficult to handle.He watched her stiffen at his words, clearly jumping into a defensive mindset, afraid, horrified, appalled. Max couldn't blame her. He wasn't pleased with the arrangement, but he understood that it was something that his kingdom needed. She trembled and objected and snapped as he stepped to her, almost jumping away from him.

He did his best to remain calm and not snap back, though annoyance rose in him. How could she not see that this wasn't what he wanted either? He understood her anger but... She was lashing out at him.

"Charlotte. I don't approve of my father's tactics, but I - we - don't have a choice here. My father intends this to protect his kingdom, and I have a duty to that goal." He paused, breathing deeply, letting his bright eyes meet hers.

Those green eyes held a lot of emotion, emotion that was reflected in his handsome face, framed by dark hair that tucked back behind his ears neatly. A mixture fo frustration and resignation crossed his features as she asked to wait until marriage. "It's just as you said, Charlotte - we don't have a lot of time. Your absence will be discovered soon, and eventually, someone will remember something to lead them here. Money can do a lot of things, but not erase guilt. My father refuses to allow us out of this room until... well, until there can be no escaping a marriage between us." He paused, giving her a moment, and then stepped toward her again, reaching out toward her with a hand.

"I have to do this Charlotte, but I can make it easier for you. Better. I sent the men away so you wouldn't have to endure this with anyone here but me. Let me do this my way. I don't want this to be cruel."

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Shaking her head as he discussed his kingdom, her gaze lifted back up to his. She was holding her anger, her look showed it--but her despair was leaking through. If anyone could at least understand his loyalties, it was her. In a more rational state, Charlotte would have admitted to him that her kingdom would profit from the alliance as well, though her father never would have forced her into it. He was a good man, though not sociable. As such, he didn't want to make alliances, even if his judgement....well, it wasn't her place to question his judgement.

Max's obvious frustration with her ruffled her feathers, to say the least. Dropping her gaze away from him, she closed her eyes, beginning to feel resigned to her doomed fate. Her arms were still wrapped around herself, and they squeezed tighter as he revealed how the men were able to make it to her room. It was a betrayal that hurt as much as this: her own people, her own guard had been bought off. Squeeze her eyes tighter as heat pooled behind them, she was determined not to be a weeping fool.

She heard him step forward again and her eyes opened, but she didn't accept his hand. "So, if I don't agree..." She trailed off, not wanting to hear it spoken allowed. He'd made it clear. If he didn't get her to submit, he'd bring the men back in to be witness or worse....to hold her down. Looking up into his eyes again, they were glassy but no tears had fallen. And it would be clear to him that he had won, and that she would agree most unwillingly.

"I have never...done anything." Charlotte said finally, quietly. She would have no idea what he expected of her, but she wanted him to understand just how much he was taking from her. "I have never been with a man in any sense. I've never been touched. I've never been kissed. I was...waiting." Slowly, she uncrossed her arms, turning to face him.

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As her words faded off, not finishing her sentence, he knew she understood the two possible ways that this could occur, and he pursed his lips slightly, clearly unhappy with the arrangement, now that she was fully aware of it. And indeed, as she looked up to him, her eyes watery, he knew that he had won, though it was a hollow, unsatisfying victory.

She made it very clear what he would be stealing from her, that he was taking any chance for her to have a romantic first time. Biting his lip, he stepped to her, pressing a fingertip against her lips. "I don't have a choice when it comes to sex with you tonight. There's no way out of this otherwise. But if you should so wish, I will not kiss you until the moment you become my bride. I owe you that much." he said simply, letting the finger drop. "I have to take some of your firsts from you tonight, but I do not have to take them all."

With practiced ease, he undid the buttons of his tunic, letting it slide from his shoulders to the floor, revealing his masculine torso. it was lines with muscle, honed from his lessons with a sword, just as handsome as his face. His chest bared to her, he moved close, hands sliding to her hips, then up toward the back of her gown, where the buttons that held it up were fastened. With a practiced ease, he loosed them, letting the fabric fall.

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He moved closer to her again, but this time she didn't resist. This time she remained still, her eyes lifting to look up at him. He had indeed gotten taller in the past three years, even if she had too, he'd still beaten her. She allowed him to place a finger against her lips, but couldn't stop herself from being startled at the word sex. Her flashes fluttered as she blinked rapidly, sucking in a breath and trying not to let her entire body jerk in response. No one except her mother had said that word to her, and even that had been in few, brief, awkward conversations.

It felt hollow now, to be called a bride. But it felt too cruel to say it out loud to him, despite what he was doing. He began to undress and she swallowed down the instinct to panic, though she couldn't fight the need to advert her gaze. Restless, her fingers trembled as they undid the knot of her dressing gown. Her heart felt like it would smash out of her chest, but she let the silky fabric slide off her shoulders.

Tentatively Charlotte looked back over to him, her eyes quickly glancing at his chest only once. Heat prickled up her neck to her cheeks, the flush obvious against her white skin. He moved in even closer, closer than any man outside of her family had ever been. His hands slid along her hips and she tensed, breathing in sharply through her nose. She was hardly dressed, meant to be in bed. It didn't surprise her at all when he undid the buttons as though he'd done it dozens of times before.

Remaining still, her eyes closed at the sensation of her nightgown sliding down off her body. Slim, pale shoulders and the same all the way down. Charlotte would never strike anyone as feeble, but underneath the proper clothing her frame was slender, her limbs fit and petite. Her breasts were small, her nipples a soft pink and slightly perked from the chill of being bared to the room. From her breasts down her flat stomach to the curve into her sex between her legs, Charlotte was totally bared to him. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up to him again.

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He caught that little glance of her eyes to his chest and the blush that accompanied it. Despite the situation, the corner of his mouth twitched up a bit - it was nice to know that his physique didn't go unnoticed, even now.

She was soon bared before him, and as he eyes opened, his swept down her body, then back up, a small smile on his lips. "You're beautiful." he whispered softly, simply. and his hands guided her back toward her bed, guiding her to lay out on her back. Those hands touched her gently, slowly, caressing along her thighs, up, over her hips and across her soft, flat stomach to the curves of her breasts, which his fingertips traced delicately.

He followed her into the bed, hands warm on her soft skin as his thumbs brushed over her perky pink nipples and his eyes drank her in for the first time. he meant what he had said - she was delicately beautiful, like a work of art. She was all subtle curves and gentle slopes, and he truly wanted to explore every inch of her. Tonight, however, he'd do what he promised - he'd make it pleasant and gentle for her, and take nothing more than what he had to.

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It was strange and unfamiliar to watch his eyes sweep down her body and know he was seeing all of her. It was as if his hands were already on her. You're beautiful. Briefly her breath caught in her throat, but kept her composure. She still didn't want this, but in the back of her mind behind her sadness she could see that he was being kind. It was hard for her to appreciate, and she didn't know if she ever would--but she would at least appreciate that sentence. Because she believed he meant it, that he really thought so.

He turned them to his bed, and as willingly as she could muster she climbed onto it. Naked, on Maximillian's bed. It was a position she'd once refused, but that had been three years ago. Given his polite words to her now, she could only assume their awful fight and his harsh words were forgotten--or that he wasn't angry with her anymore. But all of that felt so unimportant now.

His hands were soft and slow against her skin, no movement too fast to shock or surprise her. The bed dipped under his weight as he joined her, and her heart fluttered. Her lips parted as she fought back a shaky breath, his hands slipping up to cup her breasts. Charlotte allowed herself one restless fidget before lifting a hand to rest near her face, it now lay on her hair, which was splayed out delicately over the pillow.

His eyes continued to explore, and she was now aware of the warm paths his hands had left behind. The warmth built, glowing like a flame as it spread through her. She'd never felt anything like it. Then his thumbs brushed over her nipples and Charlotte sucked in a sharp, stuttering breath. Her nerves were wildly apparent, and it could easily seem like she was panicking. Her nipples hardened to his touch, the sensation electric through her. It shot straight like an arrow down her stomach to her core, shocking her completely.

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She was clearly nervous and uncomfortable, jumping and letting out shaky breaths at the touch of his hands. Still, her body reacted to him, nipples hardening and perking under his light touch. With delicate precision, his lips pressed gently to her neck and he began to kiss slowly down, across her shoulder, then her collarbone, to her breasts. His lips lavished on her perky, small peaks, and those lips soon reached her sensitive nipples. His tongue darted, swirling around the bud with slow, delicate care as his hands caressed her sides down to her hips.

He took care in his touches, trying to soothe her. He went slow, letting each moment settle so she wasn't shocked by any action. Nothing he did was a surprise, hopefully - he wanted her to enjoy this, and he had meant every word he'd said. Once upon a time, he'd wanted this: her as his lover, his partner, his friend, and his companion. And now that this was happening, it was bittersweet. She was beautiful and delightful, but this was not how he had wanted this.

Not at all.

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But she wasn't panicking, at least not as much as she thought she would be. No if anything, all of her nervousness was beginning to shift in a new direction. Her fear and anger had kept her from thinking about what would happen now that his hands were on her. His lips softly pressed against her neck and a fresh wave of shock came over her as more heat bloomed.

His mouth traveled along the slope of her collarbone and her eyes gazed up at the ceiling in wonder. Charlotte had certainly not been prepared for this...but she didn't know she'd needed to be prepared for this. How would she have guessed what he could do to her body? And then his mouth traveled lower and her lips parted with the realization of where he was going. By the time his lips had moved across her breasts, hovering over her nipples, they'd hardened completely in response.

Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and at this point she was struggling to control her breathing. His tongue swirled around her nipple and the sensation of it once again shot straight through her to her abdomen. The steady throbbing between her legs was totally foreign to her, and by now she felt like a furnace. Gently her back arched, her body restless--nearly humming from what he was doing to her.

Her hips twisted and shifted underneath him and she just couldn't hold it in anymore. A quaking breath left her, a small feminine noise accompanying it and betraying just what she was feeling. Charlotte felt heat prickle back up to her cheeks, more than a little embarrassed.

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Her body arched in what was the most satisfying display of pleasure yet, despite her unwillingness to participate in this act. Her hips moved slightly, breath shuddering, a little soft sound of feminine want leaving her. He responded with a little growl of satisfaction, his eyes darting up to watch her flush as he nibbled lightly on her nipple.

One hand slid slowly across her stomach, then traced along her hip to inner thigh, dancing slowly upward. It to had an obvious destination as his fingers caressed along the folds of her sex, a lovely slit that no man had touched before. His fingers slid slowly through her lips, exploring her lightly with a gentle touch as his mouth kissed over to her other perky breast, taking that nipple between his lips as well, delighting in the taste of her skin.

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His growl only darkened her flush, her spine arching more as she felt his teeth scrape against her flesh. Charlotte definitely hadn't prepared for this. What did she do? She was painfully aware that she knew nothing. And there was some conflict in her. Everything she was feeling, should she resist it? It hadn't been what she'd wanted, but now that it was happening was it wrong for it feel like this?

Max gave her very little time for deliberation as his hand moved across her stomach. The muscles in her abdomen fluttered and the throb at her core intensified to the point where she felt she would never be able to use her legs again. Perhaps she was a virgin, but she knew what would happen next.

His fingertips feathered over her thigh and her breathing turned heavy, her eyes flicking down to look at him as his mouth closed over her other nipple. Then finally he touched what no one had ever touched. He touched her, his fingers caressing along her folds, the sensation of it bursting through her. She could feel it now, how warm she was against his hand. And when his fingers pressed just beyond, she could feel her wetness.

A little overwhelmed, her head dropped back against the pillow, her body arching to his touch. She never could have guessed how it would feel. A shudder of pleasure rolled up her spine, and her hips bucked.

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A soft, moaning growl rumbled in his throat as he discovered how hot and wet she was, surprisingly aroused given the situation. Her back arched up and her hips rolled and squirmed against his touch, clearly sensitive and full of desire, despite herself. He pressed a finger slowly into her slit, exploring her virgin sex with a slow, gentle touch as his teeth nipped once more at her nipple.

His own arousal was quickly growing obvious in his trousers as well, an impressive manhood that made a bulge between his legs. He debated just taking her instantly, now that she was wet and he was aroused, but instead opted for a different option - he wanted to ensure that even if this first time couldn't be what she'd hoped for emotionally, it at least was physically pleasurable.

And if there was anything he had experience with, it was that.

His finger curled slightly as it pressed into her, thumb brushing through her folds to gently grind against her clit. He let her nipple slip from his lips and he lapped his tongue over it once more before his mouth bit down gently on the upper part of her breast. With slow, gentle suction and the caress of his tongue, he left behind a dark marking of his affections on her chest, as if claiming her.

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Charlotte bit down on her lower lip as he moaned again, discovering that her heart pounded harder each time he did so. Even with the situation, it eased her to know he enjoyed her body--a reality that surprised her. But what she had expected was for him to take her instantly, but then what did she know? Her lip slowly dragged itself free from her teeth as his finger slipped into her, her sex squeezing the digit tightly.

But then, oh then his thumb moved against her folds until it found that hot button. Her hips twitched upward reactively and the shock of the immediate sensation had her gasping. From that gasp her breathing grew heavy, little noises escaping her more and more as his thumb worked over her. The pleasure soared, tightening and building until she felt she were about to plummet off a cliff.

Her head pressed into the pillow as she arched, turning her face towards the back of her hand as the other twisted into the blankets of his bed, gripping for dear life. "Max." His name burst from her desperately as she shook beneath him, on the edge of something. It was almost torture but she knew she didn't want it to stop.

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Her hips bucked up and her back arched, which were delightful enough on their own, but what really made him want her was the way her lips formed his name. "God, Charlotte." He breathed, every syllable of his exclamation in wonderment of her beauty and sexual appeal.

He knew that she was sensitive now, his thumb delicately brushing over her clit as his finger slowly slid into her, then back out, gently exploring her tight wetness. She clenched around the digit, clearly approaching the edge, and his tongue dragged across her skin. "Go on, let go. Enjoy it." His finger curled slightly within her, his mouth playing over her breast as he worked her upward, enjoying how her body moved, tensed, squirmed.

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It was like she was nearly deaf, he sounded so far away. Her body took over, her hips arching against his hand. Each deep breath was a desperate reach for relief--for release, she realized. That's what she needed. She felt his tongue on her skin and nearly moaned, the urge of it deep in her throat. He encouraged her, instructed her. Let go. But what did that mean?

His finger curled inside of her, and she didn't have to wonder anymore. Charlotte fell, a sharp gasp catching in her throat before a cry of pleasure pushed its way out. It gripped her, every muscle in her body tightening, trembling with it. Then her hips dropped bonelessly to the bed, her breathing ragged. Staring blindly up at the ceiling, her head was spinning with it all as she tried to recover.

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His breath gently coaxed her along, combined with gentle licks along her soft flesh. Her hips bucked up soon, and her body tight and trembling with pleasure, the first time she'd quite felt something like this. Then she came down, dropping to the bed for a moment. He slowly slid his finger out of her, pressing a gentle kiss to her chest as he rolled to his feet, pulling down his trousers.

There was another the reason the ladies loved him, aside from his charm, and it became clear - he was just as built below the waist, with a long, thick manhood superior to the norm, though not terrifyingly so. He was already hard for her, standing out from his body. His eyes danced down her body, enjoying the view.

"You really are a beautiful woman." he breathed softly, his hands on her hips and he stepped between her legs, pulling her toward him gently.

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Finally the rushing whirl left her eardrums, leaving just the sound of her drumming heart. Charlotte tried to come to grips with what had just happened, given that she hadn't ever expected anything like it. She'd never felt so out of control, but at the same time...it had felt...

It was like the light in her brain was snuffed out as Maximilian pulled his trousers down, all thoughts vanished. He did it without hesitation, like it was the most natural action he could do. It had already been one thing to see a man's bare chest, but now he was as naked as she was. God, she was completely naked. He would obviously know where her eyes went before she forced them to look elsewhere--not before they trailed up his chest again.

The situation was impossible to begin with, but Charlotte couldn't decide if it was better or worse that it was Max. When she'd last seen him they'd just been breaking free of the awkward between-adolescence years, though he never seemed to have awkward anything even then. But still, now he was a man...if it hadn't been obvious to her when he first walked in, it was now.

Eyes on his face now, she watched as his gaze moved down her body. He'd already seen her, touched her, but she shifted nervously anyway. The throb between her legs returned at full force and she was beginning to worry it would never go away. His voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. Twice now, he'd called her beautiful. Was he just being kind? It was still so hard to read him. But there was no way he could know how deep those words reached into her, burrowing into a secret spot buried away three years ago.

His hands moved to her hips and she somewhat expected him to rejoin her on the bed. Her eyes widened as he shifted her, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He pulled her closer and in her shock her thighs spread, effectively exposing herself and giving him a place right between them. She'd sat up somewhat, propped up on her elbows.

"W-well," Unsure how to respond to him, her gaze lowered and immediately flicked back up to his face when she remembered--no clothes. By now her cheeks were a permanent rosy pink. "We've both grown up...three years is a long time." It was a bit like poking an animal with a stick to see if it was dead or asleep, but there was no taking it back now. She was about to do the very thing she'd refused him then, the change of positions only made the reality of it more real.

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He watched her as her eye dropped down beneath his waist, smiling slightly as her curiosity got the better of her before her embarrassment drove her eyes back up. Her thighs spread wonderfully as he pulled her to him, her sex displayed to him, the musky scent of feminine arousal light on the air.

Her words startled him a little - she had been so passive over the last few minutes, and now this. her words weren't said with any ill intention, and he recognized that, despite the flare of displeasure in his heart. She'd assumed the worst of him then, perhaps like she had thought of him ever since. He tried to push that aside.

"I thought you were the most beautiful woman in my life then too, if you recall." He said simply, keeping as much of the bite out of his voice as he could. Then his hips shifted slightly, lining up his manhood with her entrance.

"I'll be gentle."

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There was no change in his facial expression, so it was impossible for to know if she'd upset him. That's what she'd been wondering after all, if he was still angry at her. Nothing so far had given her that impression, but it was impossible for her not to wonder. They had bigger things to worry about, but the past still hung over them--she was sure she wasn't the only one who could feel it.

Charlotte blinked in surprise at his response. It was a direct reference, and not at all what she'd anticipated. The heat that bloomed from her chest burned, and she couldn't decide what he meant by bringing it up. Something about it altered the two times he'd just called her beautiful, being forced to remember that. So then had they been lines as well? Just another line from playboy Prince Maximilian?

It was too much, and she very nearly lost her composure but his movement saved her. His hips shifted, the very tip of his length pressing against her entrance. Her heart hammered against her chest, her body tensing instinctively. I'll be gentle. It was like he sensed her sudden fear, and her eyes lifted back up to his vulnerably. She was so exposed...but even now, after everything, she still trusted him.

"I know you will." Surprising even herself, she meant it. Giving in, she let herself lay back down fully, forcing her spine to relax in the process.

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He gave her a little smile, seemingly pleased that she trusted him even now to be gentle to her. He had no intention of making this cruel, but would much rather she be able to remember that he made this nice for her, despite the situation.

Once hand placed gently on her stomach, the other on her hip as he gently began to push inside her. His eyes met hers with a gaze of gentle concern, his movements calculated and careful. At any sign of discomfort, he paused to let her adjust, peppering little kisses and licks across her breasts and shoulders.

His hands caressed slowly, his breath hot on her skin. "Relax, and just enjoy the sensations." he breathed. He knew that she couldn't truly give in to the pleasure, given how unwilling she was in the moment.

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Somehow, when his body leaned down over hers, she felt safer. His hands settled on her body and when she felt him pressing into her there was no denying it anymore. The panic burst to life but she held it down, knowing it would help nothing. He looked down at her, her eyes meeting his reluctantly, the moment already the most intimate of her life.

At the first feeling of resistance her back arched, her hands lifting up to his shoulders for something to hold on to. Her inner walls stretched slowly to accommodate the new intrusion, squeezing around his manhood tightly. It was new, unfamiliar. And he went slow enough that the most she felt was a mild discomfort halfway through, and even then a shift her hips while he waited fixed it all.

His lips pressed into the crook of her shoulder and neck and her eyes closed for a moment. Her fingers tensed as she squeezed around him tighter when his pelvis pressed against hers - he was completely inside her. She could feel every bit of him, the realization of it struck her. Opening her eyes when he whispered to her, she tilted her head to look at him, their faces incredibly close.

"I'm alright." She assured him quietly, a little breathless. It was true she wasn't as upset as she thought she would be, and maybe it was because he'd treated her so gently--in fact, she knew it was. Slowly her fingers slid over the skin of his shoulder blades until her arms were around him.

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She reached up to his shoulders, clutching him as he began to enter her. She was tight, hot, but wet and aroused. He could feel her fingers tensing on his shoulders and he only pushed further as she adjusted, her breaths and sounds and touch saying all he needed to know. His lips kissed at her skin, soothing her as his pelvis came to press against hers and she clenched around him, causing him to groan softly.

As she gave him that soft assurance of her comfort, her arms wrapping around him, he began to rock his hips slowly, withdrawing his shaft three or four inches and then easing back into her, his pelvis sliding softly against hers, brushing against her clit and his lips leaving soft marks of affection across her neck and shoulder. A playful lick caressed her skin, and he whispered softly in her ear:

"Tell me where you want me to touch you."

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It felt like madness that his groan of pleasure would ease her nerves, but it did. At least, considering she was a novice, she wasn't disappointing. But then Max rocked his hips, and she felt his length begin to leave her, and then return. It was incredibly slow at first and the little bit of speed he built up was still gentle, but as he worked into her again and again Charlotte felt was he was talking about.

Her first sensations had been tight and a little uncomfortable, but her body was wet for him. He pushed into her again, her lower back arching as the first soft wave of pleasure rocked through her. Oh. The pleasure built steadily, his mouth on her neck warming up her skin considerably. His tongue dragged along her skin and she barely managed to contain the shudder of pleasure it brought her. She felt his lips feather over her ear...

'Tell me where you want me to touch you.' Goosebumps erupted on her skin, her mouth opening in shock. Not just shock from what he'd said, but from how his words had affected her. Heat burst through her, and she felt her sex squeeze around him tighter when her body tensed momentarily. That was when she realized that being here with him like this--there could be no hiding, no withholding. They could both see every bit of each other.

Then his length pushed back into her and caught her off guard, a sound of pleasure escaping between her parted lips. Charlotte could practically hear his amusement, no doubt in the form of a smirk or a grin. Heat prickled over her cheeks for the umpteenth time, but she didn't shy away. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoy making me blush."

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Her back arched up slowly, body shuddering slightly in pleasure, and she shook at the caress of his tongue. her reaction to his words was more than he could have hoped for, combined with another slow thrust making her moan quietly, her body tensing and clenching around him in a wonderful manner. She was hot and flushed and he adored it.

She evidently picked up on that, her tone accusing but playful, a light chuckle came from him next, pulling back to smile down at her, his hands sliding up her body to gently cup her perky breasts. Once more his thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples as he responded. "Oh yes, you're even more beautiful when you're flustered." He teased, and slowly withdrew from her before thrusting back in, a little faster now, but still more gentle and soft than he might have otherwise been.

"But mostly I enjoy making you wet, making you squirm, and making you moan." He added, eyes wandering her soft body.

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So far she'd been unprepared for everything that had transpired tonight, but nothing compared to how unprepared she was for when he shifted to smile down at her. All of the air gone from her, her body arched with the movement of his hands until they cupped her breasts. She bit down on her lower lip as his thumbs played with her nipples, the sensation of it a jolt straight to her sex.

His pace picked up, another struggled breath escaping her before a moan left with it. Of course he could say such things without hesitation...it was so Max. It struck her again that it had been three years since she'd seen him and now that they were together again he was inside of her. Her blue eyes were steady on his even as he looked down at her body, content with just watching him.

She was getting wetter, the sound of their sex mingling with the sounds of their breathing in the room. As he steadily became a little faster, the pleasure steadily built as well. Shifting under him, her hips arched up restlessly as his came down to thrust into her. Still watching him, her fingers lifted to softly comb into his hairline. Caressing through his dark locks to the back of his head, her breathing grew heavier as the muscles in her abdomen tightened.

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Her body arched once more and he groaned softly, delighting in feeling her move under his touch and feeling her react to him. She let out a cute, sexy moan as he increased pace, and her eyes moved to his, watching him, a moment of intimate connection. He hadn't expected this to be so... intimately personal, given the circumstances, but here he was, gazing into her eyes, caught in the moment.

He could feel and hear her getting wetter as their sex filled the room, but his mind was on how her hand combed through his hair almost lovingly, and how her blue eyes looked deep into him. Her breaths deepened and her body tightened, causing a soft groan from his own lips as he leaned softly down, as if to kiss her. He caught himself, pausing lingering, his eyes dropping from hers to her lips and then back up again, a light of pleasure, attraction, and contentment in them.

"Charlotte... May I kiss you?" He whispered softly, his hands caressing over her body with a gentle touch, everything in the moment... wonderfully soft.

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When his eyes met hers, she found she couldn't look away. But wasn't that how it had always been? He was driving her crazy the way his body moved over hers, the heat from him covering all of her. She could just feel the hard outlines of his body against the soft curves of her own.

The pleasure of him lifted higher, her sex squeezing tighter around him. She'd never felt anything like this. Lost in his gaze when his mouth lowered, her chin lifted, bring her lips closer to his in a purely instinctual response. It shocked her immediately after, but she hadn't been aware she'd done it until after he paused. She thought, even her body felt, that he was going to kiss her--and after the big fuss she'd made, after his promise, she had been going to let him. The sudden pang of disappointment she felt as he stopped was a familiar sensation however. It was enough for her to drop her gaze.

But then he whispered to her again. Eyes lifting back up in surprise, she was almost too stunned to answer. Hadn't she already wondered what it would be like dozens and dozens of times? And he'd asked her, he hadn't just done it. He'd stopped himself, even. It felt like her chest was going to burst. She wanted to know what it was like to be kissed by him, what it was like to kiss him back.

"Yes."

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Before she even answered, he could see the way her body shifted, back arching, head tilting back some as his lips moved down toward hers, and her eyes slid away from his as he paused, only to snap back up when he spoke. Her soft, one word permission was more than enough for him, and he closed that final gap, finally kissing Charlotte, finally kissing the girl he'd always wanted to kiss most.

His lips moved softly on hers, just gently parted, a hot, slow kiss with no hunger or aggression behind it. It was gentle and sweet and caring, but with sensually sexual burn to it. He groaned softly against her mouth, letting himself delight in her as the pleasure built, her body and the slow, gentle thrusts into her tight wetness causing him to climb further and further, approaching the peak of ultimate pleasure.

Her body pressed up against his, soft curves against hard lines, molding into him, and he truly believed that she fit him perfectly.

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Just a single, small inhale was all she managed before Max pressed his lips against her. She was ready, every instinct in her body moving her mouth against his, her eyelids already fluttered to a close. So this was the taste of Maximilian Trevaine. A groan of her own echoed quickly after his, her body arching up flush against him. She moved with him now, her fingers still tangled in his hair near the back of his head.

She could feel all of him, truly all of him now. The pleasure tightened, intensified, and this time Charlotte knew what was coming. For just a moment, just that moment, she let herself go. She let all of the trauma of being stolen away from her bed, her parents, her life, fade away and instead let herself be with him in the way she'd always wondered about. Kissing him until she had no breath left, she broke contact when she reached her peak again.

Her lips brushed against his as she sucked in a sharp breath, a small cry leaving her as she came, squeezing around him tighter than ever. Her body trembled under his, her head rolling back and pressing into the bed. Finally, his name burst from her again before finally the orgasm began to ebb away, releasing her.

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That kiss was delightful, delicious, wonderful. He'd wanted to kiss her for years and now he was, her lips on his, slow, hot, sensual. And then, after a long, lovely kiss, his lips brushed away from his, a cry of pleasure leaving her as she came again, her body tightening more than ever around him, and he let out a loud groan. Her head tilted back and his name came from her lips, and he moaned.

His pleasure was driven over the edge by her crying out for him, and one final thrust pushed deep into her as he pulsed. Shuddering slightly, a low groan of pleasure from his throat, his orgasm burst into her, hot, thick and warm. His lips brushed over hers, his breath hot as he breathed heavily. "God, Charlotte... god..." He panted, and planted soft little kisses down her jaw and neck, hips slowly coming to s halt, his cock still deep inside her as he held her close, gentle little kisses.

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Her hands pressed against his back, holding him as he shook above her. She gasped as he thrust deep into her, surprised by the warm sensation he filled her with as he came. The sound of him, his mouth near her ear, was everything. Still breathless, she turned her face into his as he came down, their lips brushing.

It had been a whirlwind of new sensations. His mouth peppered kisses down her jaw and her eyes looked up at the ceiling as her mind began processing. Unfortunately, reality had to return for them now. Charlotte blinked rapidly, so suddenly aware of how warm his body felt pressed down on hers, how hot and full of him she was.

Slowly her arms shifted to unwrap themselves from him, her hands gingerly resting on his shoulders. If she didn't withdraw a little, she'd become an emotional mess--and even she wasn't sure what that meant, the entire situation was so complicated.

"...What happens now?" She asked quietly, curious and desperate to keep things moving. The sun was at the ending stage of rising, and it was still very early in the morning.

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She slowly unwrapped from him, and he was reminded that none of this had been their choice. That none of the passion in that moment had truly been real - except for that kiss. She didn't have to let him kiss her, but she had. That moment of intimacy in the mandated sexual encounter. As she pressed lightly on his shoulders, he leaned back and slowly withdrew from her, moving to lay into the bed next to her. His hand slid into hers, hoping to provide some semblance of support.

"Now we rest. Get some sleep, and deal what the day brings." He said simply, a soft sigh leaving him, a sigh of conflicted thoughts and of tired sensations. No doubt their relations would become the centerpoint of the day to come, but for now, all that he could think of was how he was now caught in a marriage based in betrayal and coercion. Perhaps they would be able to move past this eventually, but he was fairly certain it would take a significant time before Charlotte could trust him.

Did she even want to try, however? Did she still see him as the playboy hedonist he'd been these past years? Did she still believe he'd only wanted her for sex and to satisfy his desires?

He wanted his best friend back, his childhood desire, but is that what he'd gained tonight?

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Charlotte was startled by the feeling of him pulling out of her, adverting her gaze immediately. He moved away entirely, a rush of cool air replacing the warmth of his body on top of hers. This situation hadn't been her choice, but the sudden emptiness was very real. Even still, laying in bed with him, both still totally naked...every urge for propriety within her was panicking.

"Together?" She asked, turning to look at him again when he said they would rest. But she didn't press it as he told her to sleep. Of course it wasn't proper, but what part of this situation was? And what did she want? A room of her own? The idea of being alone now in such an unfamiliar place was even more terrifying. Admittedly, she knew she would feel much safer here with him.

But as the silence hung between them, she tried desperately to relax, still stiff as board. She held it in for as long as she could: "I can't do this." It blurted out of her and she sat up, an arm over her chest. Her hand pulled out of his as she climbed off of the bed, and relief flooded her as she picked up her nightgown, slipping it back on. Was it silly of her? No doubt. But she couldn't help it, she'd never once slept naked in her life and she certainly couldn't do so next to a naked Maximilian. "Not a word from you."

Letting out a satisfied sigh, she gingerly got back into bed, this time under the covers to make a comfortable distance between them. But she did not turn her back on him, instead turning her body in his direction, looking over at him. What was he thinking about? Sometimes he was as transparent as water to her, and other times he was like a wall. Or he had been, once.

It dawned on her then that she was looking at her future-husband. From children, to teenagers, to now...technically engaged. Max would have had to marry eventually, but was marriage even something he wanted? His life-long behavior gave every indication that it was the last thing he would want. So was she getting a husband who didn't even want a wife? It was a less than comforting thought considering she was still throbbing from having him inside of her. Did such a political marriage mean that he would continue to take women on the side, and do whatever he pleased?

It was no where near the reality she had hoped for herself, and it tightened her chest to think of it. So instead, she shut her eyes. Despite it all, despite everything, her forced-journey had worn her out, and she was sound asleep within moments.

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He lay back and simply watched her for a moment, as she reacted to the idea of sleeping together and began to move from the bed. A simple nod answered that question, and she didn't contest that point any further, instead fetching her nightgown from the floor. As she glanced back over at him and forbade a comment, he smiled a small smile. "As you wish, m'lady." he said simply, a note of light humor in his tone and she returned to the bed.

He had expected her to lay with her back to him, facing away, keeping herself from facing what had happened. But instead she lay looking at him, and he simply reached over and took her hand in his. He didn't say anything, letting the gesture simply be what it was - an offering, a promise of togetherness. After all, they were in this together now, and he had no interest in simply letting this be a political sham of a marriage, a shell. If nothing else, they could be friends in life.

In some sense, he simply wanted his best friend back.

Her eyes slid closed and somehow he was sure she was drifting off, and his otherhand reached out and turned the knob on the lantern, the wick extinguishing in a soft puff, the room sinking into darkness, lit only by the moon through the large, tall windows.

Those windows let in the late morning sun when he awoke again, at what must have been noon. Carefully rolling out of bed, so as to not disturb Charlotte, he donned a black tunic and trousers before slipping on his leather boots and leaving the room. He locked the door behind him, taking care to use the lock that could be opened from the inside - he didn't want her to feel like a prisoner, but he also wanted to keep her safe and out of sight from much of the castle.

He made his way downstairs to the main hall, then back toward the kitchens, where he stopped a servant. Gathering up a platter of fruits and breads, he then began the return trip before he ran into his father.

The King was perhaps fifty, with a carefully trimmed beard and silver hair, combined with green eyes that matched Maximilian's. He was dressed in the black and white garments of the royal family, and the silver band that was the simple version of his crown sat at his temples.

"My son." He said simply, in what was evidently a greeting. Maximilian barely reacted, giving a little bow. "Father. Good morning."

"Is it? Did you do as I instructed?"

Maximilian almost rolled his eyes at the man. "Yes, I did, Father. Though you'll have to take my word for it. Somehow I didn't think having guards watch our intimate acts would endear me to my future wife." He scoffed. The older man's face fell into hard lines.

"Your comfort and hers aren't the things at stake here. Our kingdoms need this, whether the two of you like it or not. Now go wake her, and get ready yourself. It's very likely her parents are headed this direction now. I'll have clothes brought for her, but take care she's kept out of sight. Not that having women's clothing delivered to your rooms is anything unusual."

Without waiting for a retort, the King strode away, leaving Maximilian miffed, but silent. He climbed the stairs, wishing his father wasn't quite so correct about so many things.

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Charlotte had slept like the dead, never stirring once. Finally it was the light of day, bright and warm throughout the room, that woke her. Her mind woke before her body, and she lay completely still as every memory from the night before returned to her. It created a tight and sick feeling in her stomach to remember. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she sat up, looking around to discover herself alone.

Maximilian had left her? Her eyes looked warily at the door, terrified at the idea of stepping foot out of the room. For one, she was in night clothes, not fit for going anywhere. She lifted her knees to her chest, pulling the covers up with her. No, she couldn't go anywhere. What if she was seen? Her heart practically stopped at the thought of a maid coming in to tidy his room. God, she didn't want anyone to see her...but then again, would she even be recognized?

Surely a maid coming into this room and finding a woman in the bed wasn't uncommon... And, a maid in this castle would know all about the Trevaine Family, but what reason would a subject of this kingdom have for knowing the face of a Hillington? It was a small comfort, but she was still trapped. What if she saw one of the men from last night? Or worse, the king.

It frustrated her how strongly her emotions whirled, her anxiety bucking violently. Heat prickled up her neck and behind her eyes. Were her parents coming? Did they know everything already? Covering her face with her hands, Charlotte felt sick with embarrassment at the idea of standing in front of her father when he would know what had transpired the night before... She wanted nothing more than to go home--but it wouldn't be her home anymore, would it?

Lowering her hands to her knees, she tentatively looked around his room once more. No, she would no longer find a suitable husband and grow old in her family's castle. This would be where she would spend the rest of her life. Sucking in a shaky breath, Charlotte exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm. It wasn't working. So instead she ran her fingers through her hair, trying her best to comb away the sleep from it. Forcing her mind to focus on other things, she plaited another braid to replace the one that had come undone last night.

By the time she'd finished and was beginning to feel anxious again, the door unlocked. Jerking, she remained still, reasoning that it could only be Maximilian returning...

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On his way up to the room, Maximilian ran into a maid that his father had evidently seen shortly after leaving him, and took the bundle of clothes and items from her before returning to his room. He unlocked it, stepping through while keeping the door mostly closed before letting it click behind him. His eyes moved to the woman in his bed, clearly awake as she had fixed up her hair and adjusted in the bed.

"Morning." He said softly, setting the platter next to her. "You should eat some." he offered, and placed the bundle on the trunk at the end of the bed. "Some clothing, a brush, and if you need anything else, I can send for it." He offered simply. "My father says that your parents are on their way here, so we should both be presentable for when they arrive." He paused, as if trying to judge her reactions to that statement, then picked up a grape between two fingers, placing it gently between his lips and chewing slowly.

"In the meantime, if you'd prefer to have your own rooms here in the castle, I can arrange that. I understand if you don't want to share a space with me, this is obviously all very... sudden." He paused, wishing there was some way to talk about things of more importance, of what had happened between them, of to what would happen to them, without making the moment so hard and strained.

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Seeing him was both relief and strain, combined with something new. Looking at his face, watching the way his dark hair shifted as he moved, Charlotte was incredibly aware that she now knew what he looked like nude. Heat flushed over her cheeks, but she was thankful he didn't seem to notice. He looked preoccupied as well, though infinitely more casual than she could ever hope to be.

Wordlessly she looked between the food and the clothing, trying to decide if eating would make her nerves worse or better... Unable to resist, she picked up a strawberry, tentatively biting into it. Everything hung between them silently, it was suffocating. But what did they talk about, then? Where would they begin? And did now feel like the time for such awkwardness? But then, could it really be worse than this already was?

And how could he just nonchalantly talk to her about room arrangements, as if they were organizing one of their old seasonal visits?!

"When my parents arrive, I will be leaving with them." She informed him, finally speaking, "Yes, Maximilian this is all very sudden but we are not married. I'm not staying here unwed." And it was clear she would let his father know that too, if he had other ideas.

"The wedding will have to be rushed, but it also needs to be announced first. In both kingdoms. I need to be back home before that happens--this that's happened is going to live and die with our families. I'm not going to be ruined by having this get out." She paused to collect herself, looking away from him. Her rage had very nearly broken through the surface. "Beyond that, if the truth were exposed it wouldn't create a peaceful union of our people. More than likely my people would hate you and your family--worse, it could cause ill feelings between our people...maybe even riots as bad as other kingdoms have seen."

Diplomatically, she knew she was right, and it was that fact that would probably win her the argument if Max's father had any intention of trying to keep her here. Her advantage came from the fact that her father had not put a limit on her education, and frequently kept her in the loop with his daily responsibilities as king--she was far more politically involved and opinionated than most women her age.

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While she did pick up a strawberry and begin to eat it, he could easily tell there was something brewing in her mind. Then, as he spoke, he seemed to trigger that something with his mannerisms and his words, and she spoke at long last. And as she did, her words became more rushed and angry until she paused to collect herself.

He let her finish her thoughts, having no interest in shouting over her right now, though he certainly recalled a number of disagreements in the past where they had dissolved into loud arguments over any number of things - they had never been this real, however. They'd always been over intellectual topics or diplomatic points, nothing so... personal. Not until that last time they had seen each other.

Once she finished, he nodded. "You're right. You should go home. My father had every intention of keeping what happened here a secret, and none of the staff knows any more than they need to." He stood, back to her, crossing the room to a large wardrobe. He produced a heavy black cloak from it, sweeping it around his body and clasping it at his throat with a silver clasp before reaching to the desk where his own circlet rested.

He turned to face her again, circlet in hand, but in a way that signaled less of reverence for the object and more of a tired casual acceptance. "We will... need to talk at length about what this union means for us as well." He said simply, his expression and tone terse. Then he pursed his lips slightly, expression a mixture of annoyance and acceptance. "Though I seem to recall that you don't really want anything to do with me." That sentence contained no self-pity or loathing, no real anger aside from a tired acknowledgement once more of the last words they'd spoken before their reunion. With a sigh, he sank down into the chair at his desk, once more with his back to her.

"Go ahead and change. I won't watch you and make you more uncomfortable."


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It was surprising how quickly he agreed with her, though it was also a relief. The thought of not being able to go home with her parents was devastating, though she would have fought tooth and nail had he disagreed. That being said, it was also clear to her Charlotte that her snap of anger had effectively shut Max down. He was being too stoic of all of a sudden.

And when he abruptly turned away from her to dramatically sweep on his cloak, she had to close her eyes briefly to keep from rolling them. Classic dramatic Max. Had three years really changed nothing? As if she'd asked out loud and he'd taken it for a challenge, his next words stunned her. Merely blinking at him, she couldn't believe he was the first one to bring up the reality of their marriage. Yes, they would have talk about it, though it was hard for her to imagine doing so.

But then, oh then, he did it--he brought up their argument. It was so subtle yet so on-the-nose. Even more stunned, her mouth dropped open though his back was to her. The fury ignited in her so fast she was up and out of the bed within seconds. It was her own willpower that kept her in place, though she very nearly crossed the room to give him a shove hard enough to knock him out of his chair. No, it wouldn't be dignified and it wouldn't help the situation.

It was bad enough he intended to stay in the room while she changed. Left with no choice she snatched up the dress--which was not her taste at all--and turned her back on him as well. Loosening the buttons on her nightgown the fabric fell away, leaving her naked once again. The new dress in hand, she began to undo the buttons of it next, a little unused to not having a maid's help. Unable to resist a return jab, she indulged the bitterness he'd awoken inside of her.

"I seem to recall being encouraged to leave, but your memory is most convenient--as per usual." It felt like blowing on sparking embers, but it was oh so satisfying as well. Finally undoing the last button, Charlotte worked into the dress. It was very simple, which normally she wouldn't mind. The idea of gathering with Max, his parents, and her own in such a dress felt...well, it felt like an extra kick to her endurance. Everyone would be fully dressed to their station, she had no doubt. But she also knew this was her own emotion talking, and that really her parents wouldn't care about all that. It would make for a comfortable dress to travel home in, in any case.

"Is there an estimation on my parent's arrival, or is their approach just an assumption you have?"
 
Her sharp, bitter retort was not unexpected, though it still made him scowl lightly. "It has been several years. While many things have changed, my memories have not." He commented, a little bite in his tone. No, he'd recalled exactly how she'd accused of wanting her like any other conquest. Like she was just another woman to sweep into his bed for the sheer pleasure of it. How she'd shunned him, how she'd shut him down entirely. His closest friend, expressing her disgust for who he was.

Pushing the memories aside, he turned in his chair as she asked her question, assuming that the pause in her words had been her dressing, not standing nude and glaring at him. His eyes flicked to hers, the harsh light of annoyance or displeasure fading, replaced by a softer look, admiring her in the dress. "The past aside, you do look quite lovely in that, despite the simplicity." He commented, nodding as he stood. "You've always liked the more simple clothes anyway." He said with a brief smile, ignoring her tone.

"We've gotten word that they crossed the border around noon with their escort. They should arrive within the hour. " He said, placing the circlet back on top of his head as he finished buttoning the silver buttons of his black tunic. "If you'd like to discuss the... continuation of our relationship together, we can. Or if you'd rather not think about that, I'm certain we can spend that time in other manners." For once, he wasn't implying a sexual act, though if the circumstances were different, he might have.
 
She had to press her teeth together quite hard to keep from tossing back another jab his way--or more like hurl one his way. How could he be so forward in his pettiness to her? How could he act so wounded? He'd flirted sweet-nothings at countless girls, sometimes right in front of her, and he could still put on such an affronted show all because she wouldn't let herself be one of them? Was it so wrong that she didn't want to be another notch in his bed post? And he was acting like this, when he'd gotten that very notch just last night.

Charlotte's chest tightened painfully, and now her resistance against fighting with him became an act of self-preservation. It stung to remember his outrage against her, even when she'd tried to suggest they forget everything and continue with their friendship--it hadn't been good enough. The sound of him turning in his chair brought her back, and she realized she hadn't been able to hold in all of her attitude. The change in his gaze stopped her short, like a splash of cold water.

His eyes. He always got her with his eyes. Perching herself on the edge of his bed, she didn't know what to say to such a complement. As if having mercy on her, he kept speaking. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of seeing her parents, the mix of excitement and dread she'd felt upon waking returned to her. Reaching back to the fruit plate, she picked up the strawberry she'd started, finishing off the rest of it.

He brought up the marriage again, and she seriously considered taking him up on putting off the conversation. But then... It startled her where her mind instantly went at the phrasing of his words. Her blue eyes lifted to his wide, almost innocent. Her expression did not give her away, and it was clear that he hadn't meant what she almost thought... It had been like a flash and now an echo of the ache he'd caused between her legs was there, and she had no idea what to do with it. Chewing slowly to give herself time, she did her best to ignore it and instead focused on him. It seemed he was still so similar--passive yet so obvious with what he wanted.

"What do you want to say about it, Max? You've brought it up twice now, so I know you want to speak." She asked simply, resting her hands in her lap. It was clear he had a piece to share, though she was dreading it a little. After all, his reputation had accelerated in the last three years, something she heard of numerous times even though she wasn't in his inner circle anymore. Was he going to let her know that their marriage was purely political, a matter of safety for their subjects? That he wanted to continue on with however many women he wanted, whenever he wanted? Though Charlotte had no way of knowing what her response would be, she was fairly sure her heart wouldn't be able to take it.
 
Her eyes flicked up to his and he tried to get a read on her, unsure if she had thought the worst of his words once more or not. At this point, however, he didn't particularly care, and would let her believe what she liked. He got a certain strange pleasure at watching her eat, happy to be able to offer some kind of hospitality to her in this rather awful situation.

She spun the topic back on him and he raised an eyebrow, leaning back. His eyes were on her, but just gazing, thoughtful, deep with rolling musing. After a long pause, he nodded slowly.

"The easiest thing to do would be to make it a political marriage alone - but you deserve more than that. While I'll agree that the beginning hasn't been ideal, I am willing to let this marriage grow into a partnership of substance. I don't want you to be miserable in your marriage to me, I don't want it to be a sham that's mocked and laughed over behind closed doors." He said, his tone firm and decided. "As long as you're open to letting this grow into a true romantic partnership, willing to trust me and grow with me, I'll mean every promise I make at the altar." he paused, giving her time to respond, eyes watching her carefully, watching for any sign of her feelings of the situation.

He didn't expect her to like it. In fact, he expected her to rebel and lash out at him, challenge him. To call out how this whole situation got started, to ask how he could expect her to give a true relationship a chance after he'd made her have sex with him, given her no choice in the matter, and forced her into this, albeit for the good of their nations. He expected her to laugh at the idea of him being loyal to one woman, what with the rumors of his hedonistic desires, nights spent with multiple women in his bed, the drink that flowed freely into his chalice. And truly, much of the palace would likely raise an eyebrow at the concept, but he was being honest with her - if she wanted a true marriage, he would give her one.

After he'd given her a moment of silence to think, he added. "Of course, if what you want is merely a political marriage, that's fine. But if I still know you, I don't think that's the kind of thing you want in your life."
 
'The easiest thing to do would be to make it a political marriage alone - but you deserve more than that.'

Boy, did that sentence take her on a wild ride of emotion. His turn of phrase at the end saved the tightening in her throat, but surprised her just the same. While she wasn't' sure what she expected of Max, she hadn't expected this--he seemed to have given this a great deal of thought... Given her a great deal of thought. He didn't want a marriage that was a sham, well, then at least they could agree on something.

His next phrasing, however, left her less than hopeful. The possibility of growing a romantic partnership in an otherwise political marriage was quite an offer among people of their social status, this Charlotte knew. Max was really offering her something. Breaking her gaze from his, her eyes lowered down to the fruit plate as she tried to comprehend what she was feeling. So, Max believed that if he tried he could one day grow romantic feelings for her? It was kindness and a blow to her self esteem all at once.

He spoke again and she felt a bit like he'd pulled her back into the room with him. He was waiting for a response. Looking back at him, she genuinely appreciated the olive branch. So much so it flooded her and as she blinked, two tears fell. She wiped them away quickly, almost ignoring them entirely. "Thank you." And she meant it, she did. Maybe he expected a more volatile reaction from her...

"But..." Did she really believe that Max could simply turn his back on a lifestyle that seemed to fit him so well? Her hands that were placed gently on her lap moved toward each other, fingers interlacing carefully. "I think it would be easier on...both of us, if instead we try and be kind to one another. I think we would both be able to live well if we became friends again, don't you?"
 
She wiped her hands across her face and he noticed the tears just as she shook them away. He hadn't expected such a soft, gentle reaction as she thanked him, and folded her hands into her lap. He hadn't expected her to believe that he was capable of change, but he was glad that she was willing to give him the chance. And he was even more glad that she didn't want this to just be a political marriage, with each of them otherwise engaged when it came to romantic interests.

Her last words made him smile slightly, and he nodded. "I would greatly enjoy being friends with you again. I've missed having you around these last few years." He commented, leaning back in his chair. Then, in one smooth motion, almost catlike in his dexterity and grace, he rolled to his feet, crossing to her and offering her a hand. His smile grew a little bit.

"Come with me then, let me show you the castle. Some things have changed since you were last here, and there's much I can share with you." He said, offering her a hand and his arm. "I have a feeling you'll like what I've had done with the library, and the grounds have been redecorated - my mother has been most instrumental in making the castle more attractive than when you were last here."

And indeed, much had changed since she was last in this castle, more than just the appearance or physical structure. Perhaps, now that this plan was in motion, he could share with her the other reason why this marriage was so important to his father. Why this plan was so important. Why the kingdoms needed this pairing so badly, aside from the reasons she knew.
 
The last time Charlotte had suggested they remain friends it had not gone over so well. She wasn't sure what she was expecting from him, but his response was beyond what she might've hoped. Returning his small smile with one of her own, relief flooded her system immediately...but there was the tiniest twinge. An echo of a question in the back of her mind. He said he'd missed her, missed her for years. So why had he never written to her, tried to see her? Why had he stayed away?

Then his smile grew and she felt her heart squeeze. It was the first true smile she'd seen from him since she'd arrived, and when was the last time she'd seen one from him? Driven by that, she lifted her hand, sliding her fingers against his palm as she stood. "Alright, lead the way."

When he offered she let her arm entwine with his, walking close to him like they had always done. Now, however, she also had to ignore the sudden memories of the way their bodies had been close the night before. Clearing her throat innocently as they walked the halls, she was able to fill her mind with memories of his home--it had been awhile, but there were so many memories here. Most of them good. Looking up at him, she put last night away and simply let herself delight in being with him like this again.

"Oh, I always loved the grounds around here--the way the trees shade the pond. And I always thought the library was perfect as it was--so I'm very curious to see what you've come up with there."
 
That small smile stayed on his face as she held his arm close. Her hand brushing his. First, he led her down the hall into the library. When she had last visited the castle, the large, vaulted room held bookshelves that towered, running the perimeter of the room. Now those shelves acted as barriers in the middle of the room, dividing it into rows, and the furniture that had been clustered into a central sitting areas now was divided into small coves of chairs and tables, clustered into private reading areas in the space, save for the huge fireplace, which had a number of sofas and chairs near it, designed for a larger group.

"My mother decided to rework the library to make it a more quiet, reserved space, and create a lounge space down the hall for more social affairs." He said. "It's now a very nice place to seclude yourself if you need time away." He admitted, having clearly done so before.

From there, he led her through a large set of doors out onto a balcony which overlooked the gardens. Below was the aforementioned pond, just as it had been when she was here last. The area around it had been sculpted more, however, molded from the rough bramble into a prim emerald grove, flowers and shrubs circling the area. A winding path led through the greenery. A small brook now flowed into the pond from one side, leading down from a small fountain. Just up the path was the hedge maze, designed by the Queen, who enjoyed puzzles and challenges.

Taking a moment to view the area, Maximilian then turned back to Charlotte.

"I don't want to dampen this lovely view, but there's something I think you deserve to know, given the situation." He said, sighing softly. He loathed how this conversation kept coming up. "But there's another reason last night occurred when it did. My father is attempting to secure this kingdom as best he can, make sure it is as stable as possible. He is... not well. Our physicians cannot help him, and they predict only a few more years in his life, at best." Max paused, looking out over the gardens. "This is my mother's work, making his home more pleasant. His work is making his kingdom ready for the changes ahead." And, Maximilian left it unsaid, but the words were still clear - his work was to prepare to take that throne.
 
The library was always Charlotte's favorite room of any place she'd ever been, no matter how it looked. Max's was no exception, and if anything she'd once loved it more than her own library at home. During longer visits when they were younger, her tutor had come with them--she could remember hours spent in this room. But the new look, while not familiar, was a very smart layout.

"Yes, this is very smart. It doesn't make the place feel crowded, and it looks as if there's more books than there was before. This... She's done a wonderful job here, now I'm more intrigued to see the grounds." And she let him lead her out of the room, through the halls. She was being honest, it was lovely. Having remembered her times of study there, she'd been just about to remark that when he had family visit, the children would find wonderful use in the new design. But then it had struck her--she wasn't simply visiting, and one day they would have children.

Even when they were trying, reality seeped its way back in. Charlotte didn't think she had the ability to process more today, so she'd stopped the thought in its tracks. Ignoring the inevitable became easier when Maximilian lead her out onto the balcony. It took her breath away and gave her the sudden urge to feel the sun on her face. Thinking of her mother, she knew her mother would love all of it. Their grounds at home were known for their rich gardens, but this--while it had clearly been designed, there something so natural about it. Almost like it was meant to look this way.

Her hands had left him to support her leaning against the stone balustrade. When he turned to her, she followed suit, curious. "What is it?" She asked, but there was a twist in her stomach now. He didn't look pleased, and it was becoming clear that their newly joined future was never going to be able to escape the conversation. What she hadn't expected, was the revelation Max told her. Her memories of his father were that of a stern man, but a man of good health. If it this was all true, she couldn't even begin to imagine what he must be feeling inside--no wonder he was so desperate. It made sense, but she wasn't sure it was enough for her to forgive him.

Her eyes did not leave his face as he looked back out to the gardens, studying him earnestly. He was going to be a very young king...and she a young queen. But for him the burden must be heaviest. He would eventually come to have dominion over two kingdoms. "I expect this is not something you or he will want to share with my father." Her tone was an honest one, with no bitterness or judgement in it.

"You should tell him. Not today, perhaps not before the wedding. But there will come a time when the three of you will have to meet--this is a joining of two kingdoms, after all." She brought her hands together again, still resting them on the balustrade. She didn't want to overstep or make him feel like she was telling him what to do, her manner was completely different from what it had been in his room before. "Wouldn't it be easier for the kingdoms to be allies rather than to join them as one single entity? I'm not telling you what he should do, but I do know what will appeal to my father. If the Kingdom won't lose it's name or identity...well, I think it would mean a lot to the subjects of it as well. Yes, one day both will be ruled by the same crown, but for now couldn't two kings work together--but still, separately?"

She knew it was unorthodox for her to speak on such matters, but once upon a time her father had planned on her being more involved in the running of their people. Yes, she would have taken a suitable husband to be king, but she would have taken someone to work with her. Now, everything was going to be much different... "As well, this idea coming from you, the one who will one day have both, I think it could endear you to my people. The uprisings haven't been as popular in our kingdoms, but if the people like each other, more's the better."
 
Maximilian heard her out, not once speaking up to interrupt his young partner. "To be sure - my father doesn't know I was going to share it with you, and I'd prefer he not. He's touchy on the subject, for many reasons, and we've been trying to keep it quiet anyway - his weakness would not benefit the kingdom in the least. And as I understand it, my father's intention is for the marriage to join the two kingdoms as allies, and then my ascension to the throne would mark the beginning of the merge. Until then, your kingdom and mine would retain their independence from each other." He paused, looking out into the gardens once more. "I had... an idea, once I knew that I would be marrying you. An idea that, for our lifetime, and our lifetime alone, you would rule over your people, and me over mine, in a joint kingdom, of sorts. Together, and unified, but not one. Then the countries would not be forced into a total merge until the coronation of one of our... children." he said, the last word dropping off as if he too didn't want to dwell on the topic, though clearly not because he didn't desire her, but because he was unsure of the future of the relationship between them.

"But then, I question how wise it would be to have that rift between peoples, that distinction of who came from where. I want to promote a true unification, one people, one country. Not one culture, not one identity, but unity in difference, if that makes any sense whatsoever." He paused, sighing. "I have every intention of telling your father after the wedding, with my father's permission. You are correct - there will be a meeting to determine the future, soon after the wedding. It will be... tense. At best, I'm sure."

He paused once more, shaking his head a little. "I'm sorry, I think this walk was supposed to take your mind off things. Would you like to go down into the gardens?" he said, offering her his hand with yet another small smile.
 
"Of course." Charlotte immediately agreed once Max admitted that she wasn't supposed to know about his father's illness. The secret was safe with her as she really didn't want to be the one to stir that pot--and even if the king had not been civil to her in this situation, it didn't mean she would stoop to his level. Feeling restless, almost pensive, Charlotte looked away from him and back out to the gardens. Merely listening as he spoke of the kingdoms being allies, remaining separate until his ascension. Yes, it made sense. It hurt a little, but it made sense.

But then Max spoke again of his own private idea and she was glad that she'd looked away. He wouldn't see the startled reaction in her eyes, and the way her chest tightened would always be her own secret. It was a nice thought, but even as she knew it wouldn't work he admitted as much himself. She couldn't decide if it was kind of him to even consider such an thing, or if it was only insulting that he'd been pondering over the fate of her people while she lounged unknowingly at home... His little idea was one that twisted her heartstrings, but no, it wouldn't work. Max would just have to take her people from her, it was the only way.

Looking down at her hands instead of the beautiful scenery, she knew her thoughts were bitter and angry--she just needed time. In truth, she needed to be away from this place. More than anything she wished her parents would arrive and whisk her away. Max turned to her and she had no choice but to follow suit, managing a small smile herself though it was a strain. Did she want to go down into the gardens? Perhaps she might've, but not now. Charlotte gave a little shake of her head.

"Thank you, but no. I...I think I'm still tired, really. It's a bit dull I know, but could we sit in the library until my parents arrive?" She asked, keeping her tone polite even as her mind was already on one of the couches she'd seen. She turned away without waiting for his response, leading the way rather than walking with him. Their attempts at conversation would no doubt hit more dead ends, she was sure.
 
Charlotte seemed distant and distracted as he spoke, and he could hardly blame her, honestly. Nodding quietly at her question, he followed her back indoors, to one of the couches in the library, where they sat together. A small selection of books offered a distraction for the remaining time, until a servant appeared, announcing the arrival of Charlotte's parents. To this, Max could only respond with a soft nod and quiet sigh, standing back up and offering Charlotte his arm once more.

He took her downstairs into the main hall where the other royals awaited. His father, dressed in robes of black and silver, with the crown on his head, and his mother, notably more colorful, in a blue gown trimmed with a matching silver. She had never taken on the Tremaine family colors, even after marrying his father, unable to stand the dull dark black. She offered a compromise by using that bright silver in her own garments, tying herself to the family without losing her own distinctive flair of color. As the young couple entered the room, she looked up with a soft gaze, and a small smile that carried some sort of hidden understanding. Unlike the anger in the eyes of Charlotte's father, the worry in her mother's gaze, and the sharp, cold calculating stare of his father, Max's mother held a gentle light of hope in her own eyes, and seemed easily the calmest person in the room.

The discussion itself held little disagreements, as many of the ideas had obviously been considered by both groups. The wedding would be held at Charlotte's home, then followed by a marital procession to the Kingdom of Tremaine the following day. The couple would be apart until then, as it should be. The point of announcement was a bit sticky, however, as Max's father rather wanted a public declaration from the two of them, calling their marriage a joyful union in times of turmoil. Her parents, however, much like he suspected Charlotte did, felt that was far more than either necessary or fair to Charlotte. It was finally agreed that the news would be announced by royal proclamation by some heralds, then printed in newspapers for distribution. The message would be similar, but without the two of them being forced to display some affection so soon after these events.

And with those negotiations concluded, it did not take long for Charlotte and family to depart from their castle, and not long for Maximilian to sweep away himself, wanting to avoid his father and the world for the time. Too much had happened, and there was too much he wanted to blame his father for, but couldn't.

He'd agreed to this, and he knew this would help his people, but he also knew he'd hurt an old friend, and perhaps arranged for a marriage that could possibly make them both miserable.

Hopefully it was worth it.
 
When her parent's arrival was announced, the tremor in her heart was almost painful. Charlotte managed to walk calmly with Max to the hall, but when she finally laid eyes on her parents all sense of propriety drained out of her. Maybe she'd had quite a few hours to understand what had happened to her, but it did not erase the hours she'd spent blind and bound in the back of a wagon afraid that she would never see them again. She ran to them, struggling not hold herself together as she felt the warm embrace of her mother--she knew her father would restrain himself, but his hand on her shoulder was enough.

She remained close to them throughout the entire exchange, only stepping in when she truly disagreed or to reign in her father. At the start he'd been nearly shaking with rage, but gradually he came to understand that this was all inevitable now. The most curious moment for her came when she'd glanced toward Max's mother and found her making eye contact with her own mother. Had she expected animosity between the old friends? Charlotte couldn't be sure, but it felt as though they were speaking a secret language that only they understood. If front of both sets of their parents, it was harder to look over at Maximilian. It was foreign still to be seeing him at all, but even more tense to remember what had transpired between them the night before--and to know that everyone knew.

Leaving the Trevaine castle was like finally exhaling a deep breath: she was free, for the moment. Her mother let her lean on her the entire way home, and they both had to patiently maneuver the king's boisterous anger. Just the tiniest part of Charlotte enjoyed it, after all, it was rather heartening to have someone so boldly on her side. She suspected her mother was amused as well, not that they were going to encourage them in the least.

Even with the announcement out, Charlotte's life at the castle felt unchanged. It was a bit disenchanting, the dichotomy of her impending future and what was now technically her past being so close together. It made her pensive, more quiet than usual. Her mother was more affectionate as a result, her father, however, had become stoic. It took everything in Charlotte's power not to let herself succumb to feeling that she'd let him down--she knew if she tried to apologize he would be offended and very annoyed.

But then her father floored her. He privately called upon her in the library one day, and said something she never could have anticipated.

Charlotte, you don't have to marry him.

It chilled her to the bone it surprised her so deeply. He told her that if she wished, he would step down and allow her to ascend and rule unwed. He was sure of the people's love of her--and if the truth came out she would face it as a queen. If anything it would only come down poorly on the Trevaine family. Was their kingdom alone strong enough to withstand a war? Her father was proud enough to think so, but the pit in her stomach wasn't so sure.

And he did not know what she knew. If her father knew, she was sure he'd only encourage her further. Her kingdom could probably withstand against the kingdom of Trevaine, if it came to that. But Maximilian's father would not last long, if anything his lifespan would be cut even shorter. Could she face scandal, war, and the downfall of old friends alone? Was that a better alternative?

Charlotte was sure her father was speaking as a father, not a king. Because if she did as he was suggesting, it would subject their people to danger and uncertainty. The means used by Max's father were underhanded, but the end was actually a very good solution. It spared a lot of people. There was the added security that once the country's were fully allied, they would most likely be untouched by others in any more uprisings.

And then there was Maximilian. He'd tried, hadn't he? He'd tried to make it all civil, to offer her something when his father hadn't so much as spoken a word to her. And now not only was he losing a father, he was being thrust into a position that perhaps he wasn't yet prepared for. The Max she'd once known...he was carefree and playful and not quite dedicated to his studies. She tried to imagine that young man receiving the news of his father's illness--who was he now?

There was so much unfinished business between them, and now all of this... It was clear he was still angry with her, though she hoped not as angry as he'd once been. What did a marriage of friendship look like? It was hard to find the answers when they weren't for the questions she'd been asking herself her entire life. It was all so different now.

Yes, she would marry him. For all the right political reasons, and for a few no-doubt unwise, selfish reasons as well.
 
Charlotte departed mere hours later, letting the castle fall back into the strange, dark silence it had held for Maximilian over the last months. The looming threat of tumultuous change and the fall of the king. Over the next few days, Maximilian spent time in the library reading, reading works on leadership and politics until he was sure his eyes would fall out.

On the third day since Charlotte's departure, he attended a party, a revelry intended to be a celebration of his upcoming marriage, though it was quite clear that that, truly, was just an excuse to eat, drink, and be merry. At first, he let himself go, drinking, partying, dancing. Hours in, he found himself at a table, surrounded by beautiful women, laughing and drinking with him, touching him lightly, eyes alight with flirtatious desire. He wanted to indulge, to let himself go, to forget about the coming responsibilities and the potentially passionless marriage to come, but he couldn't. He wasn't sure he could believe that there wouldn't be more in this marriage, and he couldn't go back on the promise he'd made to Charlotte so easily.

Giving himself a strong mental push, he excused himself, leaving the ballroom and moving upstairs to his private chambers, door locked, and threw himself into bed for the night, sleeping off the haze of alcohol, and awaking in the morning - alone.

By the time the wedding came around and he was in the royal procession to the Hillington Kingdom, he realized that he'd not gone this long without physical intimacy in a very, very long time. There was a certain tension to him, a hunger that he tried to suppress, and that part of him wondered if they would consummate the marriage, or if Charlotte considered their first 'encounter' to be just that. The more rational side of him chided that lusting, hedonistic craving for being so insensitive, not that it did much good. He'd always been better at heeding his desires than his rational thoughts.

Their arrival was welcomed with a proper procession, though Max could clearly see the forced nature of the smile on her father's face as they shook hands, proceeding into the castle proper. He was shown to a nice set of rooms with a view of the city and surrounding country, and asked to keep to himself - that it would be improper of him to see his bride before the wedding to come. Max rolled his eyes as the servant departed, knowing that such a person would not know the details of this wildly improper event, but finding it ironic nonetheless.

Sinking down into the chair at the desk, he carelessly cast his silver circlet to the wooden surface with a echoing clang, sighing. Still, the curiosity over this marriage haunted him. What would it be like? He already knew he would not survive a marriage without passion and sex - not faithfully anyway. But this marriage, being political in some part, would not do well if he were to take mistresses. Nor was he particularly inclined to - he'd be more than satisfied with Charlotte, if their pairing were to be... proper. Romantic. He couldn't tell if that's what she wanted. Did she find herself thinking of that night together? Did she want more nights like that? Or did it just prove to her that he was just a man of desire, who desired her like the other women he'd always chased?

Another sigh escaped him and he leaned back, running his hands over his face. It was all too much, and, once upon a time, he would have gone to Charlotte for advice. She was always so much better at working through problems, particularly when people were involved. Sure, he as a charmer, but his skills didn't go much past talking women into his bed and proper socialization. Who was he to talk to now?

His mother was a distinct option. She'd always been an island of sanity in his life. She knew what he was like, no doubt, but she'd never passed judgement on him. In fact, she'd always been quite reasonable, and he'd helped guide him since the news of his father. Guide him through his studies, which were suddenly more important.

But he couldn't talk to his mother about this, no. He'd just have to wait. Wait and see.

Pure torture, that.
 
A whirlwind. The last three weeks had been a whirlwind that felt like they'd never cease. In the first week when the announcement had been made, there'd been two days of false calm--after that, every moment had been spent on the wedding and her subsequent move to the Trevaine castle. She'd received so many letters from friends and acquaintances, all of them obviously shocked by the news.

For her closest friends, their shock came from the fact that Charlotte had never let on she was close to an engagement of any kind, and now that she was engaged it wasn't even to the one man that had been a prospect. Then there was everyone else, her friends as well she supposed, who were stunned to hear that the groom would be Maximilian Trevaine. The politically correct explanation she'd had to read again and again was that the shock came from the fact that she and Max hadn't been seen together at any social gathering in years. But the words left unsaid in some of the letters were clear: Maximilian wasn't the marrying type.

It wasn't in Charlotte's nature to do anything ostentatious enough to make her the center of attention and to suddenly be an object of public speculation was somewhat unbearable. The single bit of solace she had was that no one knew the truth. In fact, she liked the knowledge that people could think whatever they wanted, because they would truly never know--even if they thought they did. It was this that helped her answer each letter with incredibly generic, fake happy replies.

Still, it was hard for her to not be restless. Several times she sat down at her desk to write Max a letter, but each time she never even began. What would she say? They couldn't discuss the reality at hand because it would be too dangerous to put it in writing. There was also the fact that a letter never came from him. Had she expected one? There had once been a time when she'd rushed down the halls to see if his latest reply had arrived...but that was a long time ago. She wasn't used to him occupying her thoughts so frequently, not anymore.

Putting on a nightgown was no longer a simple, mindless routine. It filled her mind with him until it became impossible to fall asleep. She lay in bed and remembered what it felt like to have the weight of him beside her, the weight of him on top of her. Her first instinct was embarrassment, the sudden flashes of heat it brought on, or the throbbing between her legs that would go on for hours--all of it was Max. Would he want to consummate their marriage on their wedding night when they'd technically already done so? Did he not write because all of this was purely business, a political agreement that he wanted to go as smoothly as possible? It had escaped her attention in the moment, but she'd had three weeks to agonize over the fact that he had endless experience while she knew next to nothing. Had she been...disappointing?

By the time the Trevaine family was in the castle and it was the night before the big event, the whirlwind that was her life now whirled inside of her. Charlotte had to guess that even under normal circumstances all of this anxiety would have racked her, because no one treated her as though she were acting abnormal. But when she thought of walking down the aisle to Max, or returning to her bedroom tomorrow night, she was so nervous her body shook. That was how her mother and Max's mother found her: curled up into a ball on her bed, arms around her faithful dog Pancake. They didn't bring up the realities behind the marriage, but the empathy she could see in their gazes gave her immense relief.

The hour of girl talk they gave her was a medicine she hadn't known she needed. They talked about family, about her hair, the Trevaine castle, everything. Her mother revealed that Max's mother had arranged for a letter to be delivered the morning after her kidnapping. It was stunning, yet it made so much sense. At the time she'd just wanted to see her parents, but looking back they'd made it to her incredibly quickly. Max's mother hadn't been a fan of the kiddnapping, but knew she couldn't stop her husband. So instead, she arranged the letter--to minimize Charlotte's suffering and the possibility of anyone discovering what had happened. Without her action, Charlotte could have been stuck at the Trevaine castle for days, and concealing her whereabouts like that would have been impossible.

Knowing this, knowing that someone was on her side, it gave Charlotte the peace she needed to fall asleep that night.

Charlotte was woken up by her lady's maids to get her prepared and dressed. It was her wedding day. Her long blonde hair was delicately swept up with pins, leaving the slender curve of her neck and collarbone bare. Small white buds of Baby's Breath were placed throughout, her tiara being placed last--the translucent tulle of her veil accompanying the intricate gold and diamond design. By some royal's standards her dress would be simple, but the elegance of it was what had captured her. The corset bodice had a delicate lace design, the lace covering her arms as long sleeves. She'd never been a fan of large skirts, and didn't intend to start now. There was no access amounts of tulle to fluff up the skirts, only the silky, pure white material flowing all the way to the floor. The skirt of the dress extended back to form a modest train. Her hands shook as she picked up her bouquet of white and lavender flowers, the reality finally sinking in completely.

She was marrying Maximilian.
 
Maximilian tried to sleep early, to avoid the thoughts that wandered through his head, but the same ones just repeated as he lay there. How would this turn out? What would the next day bring?

He lay there in an unfamiliar bed staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, disturbed only by a soft knock at his door. Rolling out of the bed and pulling on a tunic, he crossed the room, opening that door to find his mother on the other side.

"May I come in?" she asked, giving him that small, understanding smile, the smile of a woman who can see and understand far more that she would ever say. That had always been her gift, her ability to aware of the world around her, more so than others.

"Of course." He said simply, opening the door, and his mother swept past him, sitting down into the chair at the desk. Maximilian moved to sit across from her on the end of the bed.

"I know these last weeks have been hard on you. And I know that your father's decline is rough on you - you've never been close, and now he's making massive choices for you, all in the name of the Kingdom. So I wanted to come see you before tomorrow, just the two of us." She said, looking over the small space between them. "I know what you're like, my Maximilian. I know you don't think that you're ready for marriage, for all the pressure and commitment that requires. But you're a kind man, deep down. Yes, we both know you like your fun, your freedom, and pleasures of all kinds, but I think you'll be surprised by how pleasing a marriage can be."

"Give Charlotte a chance. Give the marriage a chance. I wouldn't have picked this situation either, but I think she'll be good for you."

Max could only nod, acknowledging her words and her advice, but she knew he'd heard her. Then she stood, cracking a smile. "Besides, I always thought the two of you looked cute together."

That comment drew a laugh from Max as he stood up as well, embracing his mother.

"Thank you. I love you."



The next morning, Nicholas dressed. He'd already refused to wear most of the clothing that he owned for formal occasions, which contained only the family colors - black and silver, mostly black. He wouldn't go into this wedding looking like it was his funeral. Talk about wrong impressions. And so instead he'd acquired a long light grey coat which he wore over a tight-fitting white shirt. A silver scarf adorned his throat, and the white leggings he wore fit his legs well, ending in the black boots. On his head, he placed the crown of the kingdom, the only difference between his and his father's being the lack of gemstones in his.

He was escorted down to the wedding by his personal guard, a number of whom were close friends. He'd asked that they be kept unaware of the truth of the situation, however, and so the conversation was kept light and joking, playing at him finally being tied down to one woman. At least she was stunning, one commented. Another laughed, saying that Max would never get himself caught up with a woman who wasn't. They were right, of course, but that had never been the only reason he'd been attracted to her.

They'd marched down the aisle, black coats contrasting with his light grey, until he stood at the altar, them splitting off to stand to the side.

And then they waited, the organ beginning to play as all eyes turned to await his bride's arrival.
 
It was quite clear to everyone in the church when the Princess' carriage arrived outside. The cheering roar of the crowd along the streets could be heard, delighted to catch even a glimpse. The people loved their princess. Public opinion was mostly positive about the marriage, many articles about the safety of the allied kingdoms had been released in the past weeks.

Charlotte's wedding party entered first, a small group of her closest friends in delicate dresses traveling up the aisle. Then, it was Charlotte's cue to turn the corner and enter through the large doorway. Still tremendously nervous, her eyes were downcast though she kept her head up. She watched the wood flooring, doing her best not to let her gaze wander to the people watching her. She could feel all of the eyes staring at her--Max was looking at her right now, too. Halfway there, her blue eyes finally lifted, looking immediately at him. There he was.

Seeing him waiting for her made it all real. Deep underneath all of the turmoil going on inside her, her heart sighed a little. He was so handsome...why did he have to be so handsome? And he was in a white shirt... The outfit was the lightest thing she'd ever seen him wear in her entire life. At the altar, she passed off her bouquet and moved to take her place standing before Max. Her hands were cool against his, revealing her nerves to him to some extent.

Tentatively her eyes lifted to meet his as the priest began. Maximilian had been her childhood friend, the secret desire of her heart, and her greatest regret. She was standing where a younger version of herself had once thought about, but so much about the reality wasn't what she would have chosen. There were so many unanswered questions, and while she had been able to ignore them, now they clanged louder than ever. Was he going to be a faithful husband? Would she satisfy him, could she?

Was he still mad at her? Was she still mad at him? That was the question that burned the brightest, and standing there she was afraid that meant she knew the answer. Charlotte had thought that by deciding to go through with the marriage she'd made peace with everything that had happened between them. But now she could fully feel inside herself that the peace was temporary, it was to a point. How could they go on never discussing the gap of three years where they'd utterly ignored each other?

Yet, now she was here, promising herself to him for the rest of her life. If Max had meant what he'd said to her three weeks ago, she was ready to honor these promises. This was another truth that rang out to her suddenly, loud and clear. She was ready to really try with him. She believed that if they could find their lost friendship, their life could be a happy one. Looking into his beautiful green eyes, Charlotte had to hope that she was right.
 
Maximilian turned as the cheers went up outside, knowing that Charlotte could not be far behind that sound. And sure enough, the bride's party began to enter the cathedral, though he was mostly uninterested, eyes only for her.

Then she appeared, wearing what could only be described as a elegantly simple gown, flowing down over her body. A smile broke across his face at the sight, the look one of unadulterated and sincere happiness, a pleasure gained from viewing her once more, particularly as she was now. His green eyes on her blue as she approached.

As she drew near, he took her hands gently, guiding her into place before the altar with him. "You look stunning." He said in a soft breath, knowing that only she, and perhaps the priest, could hear him. That smile didn't falter from his lips as she met his eyes. The smile didn't move as he spoke the words of his oath, his wedding vows. He meant every word, every thought. He had already decided that he would do his best to make this a marriage of truth and honesty, one where he was the faithful, loving husband. So long as this worked out for the both of them, so long as this relationship held everything they both needed, there was no reason to make it a falsehood.

But was she truly ready to give him a chance? Was she really willing to look past everything - and everyone - he'd done in the past? Could she forgive that she was married to him out of necessity, though his feelings for her were genuine? And for that matter, would she ever believe that?

But when the vows were finished, and the priest gave him permission to kiss the bride, his hand came up, delicately lifting the veil and pushing it away. That hand slid to her jaw, gently touching to draw her into the kiss, the other on her hip, pulling her body to his. All his worries washed away for that moment. It was well known that Maximilian was a passionate man, and the kiss reflected that, while still being chaste enough for a cathedral. After a long moment, he slowly pulled back, eyes on hers. A small smile crossed his lips.

Then he turned to the crowd, clasping her hand in his, smile on his face, and began to guide her back down the aisle, toward the reception, banquet, and evening of festivities.
 
Somehow, once she'd uttered the words, "I do." she felt so much calmer. It was like letting out a breath she'd been holding. They were married and there was no going back. Now, they would have to move forward as partners, and figure out what that looked like for the two of them. That was a prospect Charlotte felt sure they could manage, and it was that optimism in her heart that had leaned into Maximillian's kiss. Only they would know it wasn't the first kiss, but this one was so much different.

When she opened her eyes, she was looking at her husband. Finally, she let the giddiness of the day wash over her, and she smiled brightly at him before they turned to head back down the aisle together. They were met with more joyous applause outside the church, and the infectious energy surged through the air. They'd made the people so happy! Charlotte waved to as many as she could before they were in the carriage again, being whisked off to the next event.

The reception was truly lovely. She knew that her father was not happy, but he'd told her quietly before the day had begun that this day would have been unhappy for him no matter what. Even a king was a father, after all. He didn't know, but Charlotte had always been aware even as a child that her father hadn't wanted her to end up with Maximilian. She was sure he had his reasons, and it had bothered her a lot more when she was younger--now it was just something they would have to live with. To his credit, he didn't ruin the party and did his best to partake as genuinely as possible.

If she'd been nervous about having a conversation with Max after the wedding, she'd been wasting her time. Everything afterward was another whirlwind, this one far more pleasant. That being said, there were countless guests, all of whom were dying to speak to each of them. Every now and then she and Max might look up at one another at the same time, share that brief eye contact and bewilderment before being swept up by more people to congratulate them. It was only when her mother forced her to take a plate did she realize that she hadn't eaten anything that day.

More people had been invited than she might have liked, but the wedding was obviously political. Not only were there Max's guests and her guests, but there were also lots of obligatory guests. There were some people present that she hadn't seen since she was a child, one of them being Ingrid. In fact, Charlotte couldn't even remember her last name, but how could she forget that bright red hair? Why hadn't she and Ingrid kept in touch? Ingrid greeted her like an old friend, and she was so infectiously warm that Charlotte openly remarked that she should write to her as soon as possible.

"Oh good! I was so hoping that we could really be friends now that you're with Maximilian."

Oh, so she was technically Max's guest? That would make more sense, she supposed. More people were bustling around them, and it was clear that Charlotte should go mingle, but it was also clear by the look she gave Ingrid that she didn't want to. Ingrid read it loud and clear, openly laughing.

"Enjoy it! And congratulations again--I mean it, really, enjoy it all." Ingrid leaned in, resting her fingers on the crook of Charlotte's elbow as she added, "Max has such a talented mouth."

Charlotte cocked her head to the side in confusion, finding her turn of phrase unusual. What did she say to that?

"Mmm, yes...well, he does have a certain...quick wit."

It was Ingrid's turn to look confused, which only made Charlotte more lost. They never got to finish the moment, however, as a small group of older noble ladies came forward, demanding the bride's attention without much care for what she'd been doing.



The revelry continued for hours, very quickly wearing out an introvert like Charlotte. Luckily, she knew that as the bride, she'd be discretely slipping away early. The bliss of the quiet hallway lasted just a few minutes, because once her lady's maids were pulling loose the ties of her corset in her room did the reality hit. Maximilian would eventually make his way up to her.

She remained calm in front of her maids, letting them undress her for the most part, but letting them go before it was completely done. Finally, finally alone, she gave herself a moment to take several, slow breaths.

Her room was bare in several spots, much of what she owned packed and already moved to the Trevaine castle. Little trinkets here and there were still left behind--it was her room, after all. Turning to her wardrobe, she stared at the new nightgown hanging in it. It had been a gift from her friends, one they'd given to her with incredible glee because they'd known how bright red she'd blush over it.

Despite the laughs they'd had, it was clear they'd put real thought into the gift. It was beautiful, and somehow her style though she'd certainly never worn anything like it in her life. It was pure silk, creamy white, and thinner than a sheet. It was ankle length, but that hardly mattered considering the two slits that went so high up the thighs it was practically to the hips. Slipping it on, she walked over to her mirror but couldn't help blushing.

The peaks of her nipples were clear given the fragile nature of the fabric, and embarrassed, she slipped on a dressing gown--tying it tightly at her waist. Would she really wear this? It wasn't like this was their first time...but, she realized, it was still special. Three weeks ago she'd been devastated, but she found herself just as nervous as she would have been. All of that didn't take away from the moment now.

Restless, she crossed the room to sit at her vanity, slowly pulling the pins from her hair and letting it fall back down around her shoulders. Watching her hair cascade down in the mirror, she then meticulously began removing every small, white blossom of Baby's Breath, creating a small pile on the table. The simple, detailed task allowed her to focus and truly calm down.
 
Surprisingly enough, Max could sense a happiness from Charlotte. He'd expected this day to be somewhat steeped in false smiles and hidden hurt, but there was none of the in her. She waved in genuine joy to the crowds, drinking in their love, and despite the little time they managed to actually spend together - and none of it in private - he could tell that while there was some doubt and concern underneath, she was enjoying this moment for what it was.

And that pleased him to no end.

Now, once the reception began, he could fully assess the feelings of the attendees. Charlotte's father offered only a firm handshake and a long, piercing look of disapproval, and many of the young women in attendance flocked to 'congratulate' him, seemingly eager to put their names out for the title of mistress, though he had no intention of taking one. Still, there were those who saw this as a marriage of politics, and many of the hopeful debutantes wanted desperately for that to be the case. Fortunately, he was able to slip away from them, shoving a few of his groomsmen in that direction to take advantage of the situation in their own way.

Several times he managed to glimpse Charlotte through the crowd, exchanging glances and small smiles, and other times she didn't notice him looking, simply wondering at the sight of her. Once he spotted her speaking to an old friend, Ingrid, who he'd known for a long while in so many different ways, someone he trusted to be a friend to his new bride without overstepping anything. Ingrid was a friend, and he knew that he could count on her.

His father appeared several times at his side, commenting on how successfully the plan worked out, and how clearly this marriage might work out anyway. Max fought back a scowl at his elder, brushing him off with slightly sharp words until his mother silenced those with a stern look. She offered her own congratulations in a smile and a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Let yourself love." She said simply, and then she and his father slipped onto the dance floor for a slow dance together.




The party wound slowly down, and he'd long since noticed Charlotte's departure. He lingered to see the guests farewell with his parents and hers, as if trying to keep the two kings separate. He'd actually stopped to help his parents as they began to organize the transport of wedding gifts back home when his mother caught his arm again.

"Go see your bride." She instructed, and Max stopped, surprised, and suddenly nervous. He slowly nodded, disappearing into the castle.

The walk up to her room was one of nerves and uncertainty. Could there be a consummation? He wanted to allow her a way out of this if she didn't want it, since they had already had sex, but also... He felt as though he could offer her something truly exciting and thrilling tonight, with the two of them as lovers doing this for them, and no one else. But if she was uninterested?

His hand lifted the latch on her room and he entered carefully, closing the door behind him before turning to face the chamber, catching sight of her in a dressing gown at her vanity, removing pins and flowers from her hair with delicate touch. He crossed the room to stand behind her, looking at her reflection with an expression of wonder.

"I've never seen you look as beautiful as you did today." he said simply, his fingers unbuttoning his jacket, as if finally freeing himself. His eyes watched her for another long moment before he crossed to the bed, sinking to sit on the edge.

"Charlotte. I think it's only fair of me to... to offer that we need not consummate our marriage tonight... if you don't want. WE've technically already done so, and I can understand if you would prefer not to." He frowned slightly, worried that he sounded like he didn't want to be physically intimate with her, but the words were out now. He'd correct that misunderstanding if it occurred. If there was anything he could do, it was prove his attraction to someone.
 
By the time Max entered her room, Charlotte was so immersed in what she was doing she didn't hear him at first. There was a small pile of delicately placed flowers in front of her on the vanity, her hair in waves from being pinned up all day. Catching a glimpse of his approach in her mirror, she felt herself tense. He was finally here. He stood behind her, and their eyes met in the mirror. She couldn't make out his expression or what he might be thinking, but then, 'I've never seen you look as beautiful as you did today.'

A gentle warmth bloomed over her face and she couldn't help the startled smile that appeared. "Oh, thank you..." He stared at her for a long moment, and unsure what to say she instead lifted the last flower from her hair, sitting it down on the vanity. Out of the corner of her eye she caught his reflection as he began unbuttoning his jacket. Her spine stiffened even more, her heartbeat suddenly turning into a gallop. She was so suddenly out of her element and unsure of what to do.

He turned to cross to the bed and her eyes widened, her body turning on the stool to face toward him. Was she supposed to simply...follow his lead? But rather than what she thought was happening, Max sat himself down on the edge of the bed. Nervous, Charlotte let her hands slide down her thighs to rest softly on her knees. His words surprised her, so much so she could only blink at him for moment. What he said made logical sense, and in some ways it was even a nice gesture but...

Disappointment. That was what she'd just felt, she realized. This moment had been such a source of contention for her for weeks, but now she knew that if it didn't happen she would be disappointed. Hadn't she thought about it, secretly, over and over? Even when she'd been trying not to, thoughts of him invaded her senses. But looking at him now, he frowned and looked so conflicted... Her tenseness returned with a pang of fear--did he not want to? Had she been right in worrying that she'd not been good their first time together?

Trying not to panic or run away, Charlotte decided instead to be honest. Max had said he wanted to really try with her, so if any of the things she feared were true, they could talk about them, couldn't they? She could be vulnerable with him--she had already been with him once at her most vulnerable, right?

"We don't have to...if that's not what you want, Maximilian." She said simply, not wanting him to act out of duty or commitment. Standing up, she swept her hair up, cascading it back over her shoulder. She appeared as though she was going to move towards the bed but stopped, hesitating, feeling a little foolish. Looking down, her hands trembled as they undid the knot of her dressing gown. She very gently pulled the dressing gown open, letting it hang naturally on her body. She found she didn't have the courage to remove it fully, but the nightgown was very much exposed at this point.

Innocently, she looked back up at him, curious of what she'd find in his eyes. "We could just turn in, but...it's our wedding night." More warmth bloomed over her face, but there was no turning back now. "...Do you want me?"
 
His eyes moved to her as she stood up, and he began to shake his head slightly at her words, having not meant that in the least. "That's not what I intended at all, I -" His words cut out as she shakily undid the knot of the dressing gown and let it hang open, revealing the thin, sexy garment beneath. He let out a quiet cursing exclamation, rather obviously stunned, eyes traveling her body. Hey eyes came back up to his, and they'd find a burning heat and hunger there now, as well as a bright admiration for her form.

She blushed cutely and he smiled, rising back to his feet and stepping to her, his hands sliding to her hips and up along her sides, feeling her curves through the thin fabric.

"I've never wanted anything or anyone like I want you." He whispered, eyes not leaving hers, hoping she'd hear the truth in his statement. He pulled her to him, his hands moving to brush the dressing gown from her body and let it fall to the floor before her body pressed to his. His mouth lowered to meet hers in a slow, deep kiss, easing her into his passion this time as his fingers caressed slowly over her body. He guided her slowly with him toward the bed, pushing her slowly down onto it, doing his best to not break the kiss.

His lips pressed along her jaw, working back toward her ear, where his tongue played softly against her neck. "Do you want me, Charlotte?" He whispered, his fingertips slipping up her outer thigh, along the slit in the nightgown.
 
Her eyes widened, a bit startled as he cursed--of the possible reactions she'd played over in her head that certainly hadn't been one of them. But his eyes kept her legs locked in place, a burst of a different kind of heat igniting underneath her skin. In all her life she'd never been looked like that.

She bit her lip as he crossed to her, anticipation practically rolling off of her. The silk of the gown was so thin, she felt his own warmth as his hands slid to her hips and up her sides. Charlotte's eyes never wavered from his, but from his touch awoke the now-familiar ache between her legs. It throbbed to life, and she let herself accept how desperately she wanted his hands on her. Max whispered to her then, the words piercing straight through her chest. No matter what, she could see that he truly meant them, and that was all she needed.

When the dressing gown slid off her shoulders, she went to him willingly. Her hands pressed to his chest, her body pressed to his, and when his mouth lowered her lips were parted for him. There was no hesitation in her now, her head dropping back as the kiss deepened. She had even dreamed of kissing him again, of the way he tasted. Consumed, she mindlessly allowed him to guide her to the bed, eyelids fluttering open only to help shift them onto the soft blankets. The slits of the nightgown hiked up, separated, and nestled against her hips.

Breathless by the time he pulled away, her neck arched back, pressing her head into the pillow as his lips traveled along his jaw. Then his tongue lapped over her neck and a soft inhale caught in her throat--she very nearly moaned. Oh, that had been the sensation that had kept her up most nights over the last three weeks. Her own hands slid mindlessly over his shoulders, her fingers gently playing into the hair at the back of his neck.

'Do you want me, Charlotte?' It tightened the muscles in her abdomen just to think of it. His fingertips slid over the skin of her outer thigh and she had to give herself a second to find the use of her vocal chords again. "Yes." She uttered simply, her voice several octaves higher, his affect on her already clear. Shifting slightly to bring his eyes to her again, she looked straight into the brilliant green of them. It was a confession she'd held inside for far too long. "I want you so much, Max."
 
His lips broke into a smile as she admitted her want for him, how much she wanted him, craved him. Her voice was a bit higher, clearly flustered and already feeling the heat of the moment as she locked her eyes with his. "That's what I hoped you'd say." He breathed. "Then relax, and let me give you everything I can." He whispered, breath hot against her ear as his lips took her earlobe between them, teasingly playing over it with his tongue.

His hands slid up her body, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of the gown, thumbs brushing oh-so-gently over her perked nipples as he did. His lips kissed down her neck once more, hot and wet as he played her expertly.

His hands wandered up to her shoulders, sliding the straps of the gown off her shoulders, allowing him to slowly guide the garment down her body, revealing her full skin once more, every inch of her free to be touched, caressed, kissed, and pleased by his hand, mouth, body. And as his lips kissed across her collarbone, hands sliding along the lovely curves of her sides from perfect hips to the soft edge of her ribs, he let a soft purr of pleasure escape him.

His mouth moved down to her soft breast, the delicate pale skin there sensitive under his tongue. Suckling on her roughly, his tongue lashed against the creamy skin, teeth nipping lightly, leaving a mark there, perhaps the first of many he would leave on her body, even as his left hand moved to her right breast, now caressing the exposed curve with light and delicate fingers, playful and gentle.
 
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