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"Will you have me, lady?" Don Pedro asked, with a little smile curling at his lips, completely interrupting the flow of their banter.

Beatrice froze. She could not have heard that right. Don Pedro was a prince of the realm, and she was the niece of a governor. Eligible enough for petty nobility, but not at all an appropriate partner for a prince.

Beatrice forced herself to give a light laugh. "My lord is cruel, from here on forward, all will despair of my hand! Even joking, the troth of a prince, what can compare?" She bantered lightly around that conversational landmine. And now, Don Pedro would laugh, and Beatrice could leave this dance without completely humiliating herself.

The sting of Benedick walking away as she approached had been misery enough.

Don Pedro tilted his head. "You have me confused, Lady Beatrice. I am not Signor Benedick, full of mirth and barbs. I have my small moments of play," he gestured to where Hero and Claudio sat staring doe-eyed at each other, "but I am a man bound by honor. I do not jest."

Oh, no he thought he was obligated. How had one of the young women of his court not trapped him into matrimony already, if all it took was a joking insult? She had to find a way to let him back off gracefully. "Your honor is a poor companion, if it would bind you to me! Bid it be silent, I want no husband where only honor would stand between us. My poor spirit would fade away, and bring nothing but misery to the both of us. Set your honor upon a different target, and know you leave me flattered."

"Who says honor is all there is?" Don Pedro asked, still smiling. Still with his little head tilt and kind eyes. "They speak lies. Is there not warmth? Not affection? Not admiration? You are clever, my lady, and your tongue is quick, and I would be honored to know it better."

There was a sparkle in his eyes, and Beatrice's skin broke out in prickles. That was—he was flirting. The Prince of Aragon was flirting with her, and he was smiling at her like she mattered, and his eyes were kind.

Beatrice was comfortable enough in her station, and had plans to happily live and die a spinster in her uncle's house. She had her flocks of hopeful swains, some of them even handsome, but never an offer that would tempt her away from her unmarried freedom. Still—there was always the chance her uncle would force a suiter upon her. He had not been inclined thus far, but—

Hero laughed, in the arms of her soon-to-be-husband.

What if her uncle had only tolerated her spinster presence because his only daughter adored her? It was a thankful thing no one had overheard this conversation, or Beatrice's family would go into fits at such a match. If her uncle knew she had turned the prince down, he would kick her out of his house.

Beatrice supposed she could go live with Hero and Claudio, but—Beatrice looked over to find Hero blushing furiously as Claudio kissed her fingertips—they seemed to be well on the way to insufferable.

Beatrice looked back to Don Pedro. "Love is thick in the air, perhaps you are intoxicated with it. When you sober, you might make a different decision."

"I will not," he said softly. "I am a steady man."

Beatrice licked her lips, and did not miss the way his eyes darkened and fixed on her tongue. "I would not compete with my cousin's wedding. Let them wed, while we keep this silent, and if I have not proven myself intolerable, we can announce our engagement then."

Don Pedro's smile turned delighted. "Truly?"

"My lord can not be surprised!" Beatrice chided. "Who would spurn you?"

Nevermind that she herself had been of half a mind to spurn him a moment ago. Irrelevant.

"I thought, perhaps," Don Pedro looked in the direction Benedick had exited. "Signor Benedick may have a prior claim."

Beatrice mustered her usual furious denial, and then sighed it out. Don Pedro knew Benedick, as well as any did. His virtues and his flaws were bare in the prince's eyes. "In another life, perhaps," she said, feeling melancholy as she imagined that other Beatrice. "Where he and I both let ourselves be ruled more by passion than pride. He is a friend, I will admit that, though not to his face and I'll not have him hear it!" She held up a finger with a smile.

Don Pedro spread his hands in an innocent, 'not me' gesture.

"But there is no claim to be had," Beatrice finished. She took a breath, and ridiculously had to stop her knees from trembling as she replied, "None but yours, should you still wish to make it."

Don Pedro swept her a solemn bow. "Know this, my lady. I would kiss my vow onto your lips this very second, were it not for your noble desire to allow your cousin her day. It is your own faith I fear. I hope you do not find reason to reject me."

Beatrice shook her head, her cheeks flaming with sudden desire. "I think you will make a fine husband," she said, feeling suddenly brave. "So long as you do nothing to disprove me in the scant handful of hours between now and the wedding, my hand is yours."

Of course, a scant handful of hours later, the idiot managed to do exactly that.

"You think what?" she hissed, barely, barely managing to keep from punching a prince of the realm in the face.

Don Pedro was grave. "I saw it myself. Your cousin, Hero, kissing another man the night before her wedding."

"She was with me," Beatrice said, barely managing to keep the words, you imbecile from following. "Sighing lovelorn over none but Claudio! Do you call me a liar?" Beatrice asked, dangerously.

"My lady," Don Pedro said. "I understand your desire to not shame your family—"

"Tell me what you saw," Beatrice snapped. "Precisely."

"At the window of her chambers, your cousin, in the embrace of—"

Beatrice cut him off. "You saw her face?"

"I saw her form, it was her chambers," Don Pedro insisted. He pressed on. "This is not why I come. My affection for you is ever-growing, and I know it would cause you distress—"

"Have you never heard of servants?" Beatrice probably should get out of the habit of cutting off the prince. But she had no intention of cultivating silence as a virtue now. Or tolerating stupidity. "If you and Claudio will hold your rash actions for a handful of moments, I believe I can resolve this."

Beatrice gathered her skirts and began to storm off. She made it three furious strides before she stopped, and whirled on Don Pedro again. "Who told you this?"

"I saw it myself." Don Pedro still looked at her, stubbornly.

"If my lord had a habit of skulking about the bedroom windows of eligible maidens, the ladies of the house would have warned me before now. We are well informed of these things. So if you happened to be at the window, just in time for someone who appears as Hero to kiss another man…?" Beatrice trailed off, hoping Don Pedro wasn't so stupid he couldn't follow that line of thought to its conclusion.

Don Pedro's face grew grim. "Find me some proof that it was not Hero, and I will make my own investigations."

Beatrice nodded, and turned to leave.

It seemed to Benedick that many things were happening very quickly. There was the matter of Claudio's own engagement, his betrayal of bachelordom. But that was an expected sort of whirlwind. The much more surprising one was Don John being run out of the villa by his own brother as a malcontent and a betrayer, no longer welcome in Don Pedro's company or, indeed, all of Aragon.

"It seems a strange wind, indeed, that he would hold so steadfast to his bastard brother, only to banish him without warning," Benedick said to Beatrice, when he caught her over breakfast in the morning.

Beatrice glared at him. She hadn't slept well. Benedick wondered why. "My lord found something he valued more highly than that traitor," she spat, full of venom.

Benedick realized suddenly that Beatrice knew something. And more than that, knew something he did not! This could not stand. Benedick decided there were enough people around, generally, for respectability's sake, and dragged Beatrice off to a quieter corner. "What happened? You must tell me."

"Oh must I?" Beatrice asked, as her haggard expression folded into a smile. "It seems the information I have is of some worth, what will you offer me for it?"

Benedick grinned. "I would give my fair lady a kiss, did she not despise all kisses. As you have removed that currency, I am afraid I am but a pauper, and reduced to begging."

Beatrice's smile fell. She looked serious again and Benedick felt suddenly wrong-footed.

"Ah," Beatrice said, shaking her head. "You'll know soon enough. Don John attempted to accuse Hero of scandal. Don Pedro came to me, and I was able to disprove it."

Benedick's brow furrowed. Why would Don Pedro go to Beatrice? Granted, Beatrice was clever, her wit as sharp as her tongue. But it was an odd choice. "Did he come to you, or did you overhear and barge your way in?"

"You flatter me," Beatrice said dryly. "No. He came to me. Because," Beatrice looked around, and stepped closer. "I will take payment for this, after all. Your honor that you will keep what I am about to share a secret, until after Hero and Claudio are wed."

"Easy coin to pay," Benedick said glibly, though his burning curiosity was beginning to taste something like dread. His instincts were screaming at him that he would not like what was to come next. "May my word bind me."

Beatrice leaned in further still, before saying softly. "He came to me, because he has claimed my hand. We will announce it after Hero and Claudio have their moment to celebrate, and be wed shortly before we take to Aragon."

What? Benedick must have misheard. He must have misunderstood. Beatrice, his Beatrice, was just as opposed to marriage as he had always been. A proud spinster, content in the house of her uncle. But—now she was to be wed? To Don Pedro? "You jest," Benedick said slowly.

Beatrice shook her head and leaned back. "I said as much to him. But he made the offer in earnest, and I have found it within myself to return it in kind." She shot him a sharp look. "You ride with him, you fight with him. Is there some reason he is not to be trusted?"

"I—no," Benedick mumbled. This didn't make any sense, but he could certainly bear no slander against Don Pedro. "He is honorable and true. He treats all well. A little prone to indulge his power, but not nearly so much as he could be. He is—he is well worth marrying."

Beatrice looked almost sad as she nodded. "My assessment as well. I nearly spurned him when he threatened to shame Hero but—he listened. He did not have to. I think there are many worse fates for me, than marrying a powerful man who listens." The smile she offered him was a little wavering. "I am sorry to abandon our proud bachelor status. I am sure you can go to him and speak of all my ills. Perhaps you will convince him to sense, when I have not."

"I would sooner bite off my own tongue," Benedick swore.

Beatrice raised her eyebrows at him.

Benedick himself wasn't entirely certain where the impulse had come from. But he would—he would render himself mute rather than destroy Beatrice's happiness. Beatrice was smart and beautiful and loyal, and Don Pedro was honorable and kind and handsome. They would be well matched.

So why was Benedick's heart aching in his chest?

"I am happy for you, my lady," Benedick said, bowing to her, not quite lying, not finding truth, either. "I wish you well. I will keep your secret, until such time as we revel together in celebration."

"Thank you," Beatrice said.

Benedick wasn't certain if he was imagining it, but her smile seemed sad.

Don Pedro fussed with the buttons on his coat. He couldn't even pretend he was doing anything but fussing, as he polished each one, checking the shine. It was a foolish pastime. Lady Beatrice was not one to be awed by polish. But Don Pedro had always been meticulous, and he could not change how his nerves expressed themselves.

"Looking so fine for my wedding," Claudio said with a high-spirited laugh.

Don Pedro set down his polishing rag. "Of course I would take care. I must represent you well!"

"You should take as much care!" Benedick exclaimed, as he pushed his way into the room where the men were preparing. "Claudio, oh, your hair. Get to a mirror, it's not supposed to look that rumpled until after the lady gets her fingers in it."

Claudio blushed, but still ducked out of the room tugging at his locks.

"You tease," Don Pedro said, not reprovingly. He could have sooner stopped every raindrop from falling than stopped Benedick from teasing.

"I do," Benedick said, giving Don Pedro an approving glance. "You look most excellent, my lord. Though," Benedick raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice, glancing around to confirm they were alone. "Lady Beatrice will have a harder time pulling at your locks." Benedick playfully patted Don Pedro's close-cropped hair.

Don Pedro stiffened, which was unfortunate, because Benedick could read his body language as well as anyone.

Benedick smoothed his palm across Don Pedro's temple in an affectionate caress. "You mustn't be too angry at Lady Beatrice for telling," Benedick said. "She wanted reassurance that you were not putting on an elaborate play-act of perfection."

Don Pedro leaned into the touch for a moment. Benedick had always had an easy way of irreverent intimacy that Don Pedro had been grateful to have around. Between his father's distant authority, his mother's busy maneuvering around the mistresses that would cause her grief, and his grasping half-brother, affection had been in short supply in his life. "I trust you informed her that I am as flawed as any other. Have you ruined my chances of marriage?"

Benedick snorted, and dropped his hand to Don Pedro's shoulder. "No. She remains entirely enamoured. Despite my best efforts." He offered Don Pedro a wry smile.

If Benedick could read Don Pedro better than almost any other, then the reverse was also true. "Oh my friend," Don Pedro said softly, reaching up to cover Benedick's hand. "I asked the lady if you had a claim on her heart already. It seems I should have asked the same question of you."

"No," Benedick said, turning his hand so he could interlace his fingers with Don Pedro's as he brought their joined hands between their bodies. "I had time enough to act, if I was so inclined. I did not. I think the two of you will be exceedingly happy with each other. And that brings me great joy."

"Benedick," Don Pedro started, his heart aching. "I can—"

"Don't you dare," Benedick said, his eyes flashing. "It is not yours to soothe every nagging pain. You would cause far more by breaking your engagement. My heart will heal. Besides," Benedick's eyes twinkled, "who says it is the lord I envy?" Benedick brought their joined hands up, and laid a kiss over Don Pedro's fingers. "Perhaps it is the lady whose place I would take."

"Benedick," Don Pedro said, uncertain what to do with this confession, joking though it may have been.

They had shared tents and bedrolls and bodies in the dark. But Benedick had never indicated he wanted anything more than a soldier's moment of understanding. Had never asked for a token of devotion, and certainly never asked to be set up as a favorite. Don Pedro would have named him such gladly, if Benedick had but asked.

Benedick burst out laughing, seized Don Pedro by the shoulders, and kissed his cheek with a resounding smack of his lips. "You are so simple to tease. Do not worry about me," Benedick said seriously. "You are a fine man, who has found a fine match. You do not need my blessing, but know you have it. I will share in both of your joy."

Don Pedro didn't think that Benedick had been teasing. But what else could be done? Benedick was right, he hadn't acted—not with Don Pedro, and not with Beatrice. And Don Pedro would not go back on his word. "I am glad to hear it," he said grandly, deciding to let the whole tangled mess go. "Let us go celebrate Claudio, and then celebrate more when the second wedding announcement is made."

Beatrice remembered very little of her wedding, in the end. It was all a blur: celebrating Hero and Claudio, dancing with her cousin while Don Pedro spoke with her uncle, the overjoyed shout from that corner, the announcement that the preacher had better not go anywhere, there was more work to be done. Beatrice stood across from Don Pedro and in front of her beaming family and said her troth.

When she next danced, she danced with her husband.

It was a blur from then to the wedding night, where Beatrice could not quite stop her maidenly blushes as Don Pedro prowled over her.

"Shy, my sweet bride?" he asked, sounding amused.

Embarrassment had always come out as anger, and anger had always translated to cutting wit. It was true even now, in a shift, in her wedding bed. "It is unfair, the woman's lot to be kept away from all the but faintest mention of sex, the man's to have whatever he pleases with no stain on his reputation. I come to you a novice, out of necessity, aside from the pleasure of my own fingers, of course," Beatrice said, a little sharper than she supposed any groom hoped for on his wedding night.

Don Pedro seemed unphased by her prickles. "Show me?" he asked, as he leaned in and kissed the tender spot where her jaw met her ear. He whispered, low and sure, "I will use every scrap of knowledge I have gained to leave you breathless with pleasure."

He did. It was entirely unfair, but Beatrice prided herself on being a fast study. She had always been told that very little work was required to make a man happy, simply lay back and let him have it. But that had never been Beatrice's way, and instead of mere satisfaction she strove for domination. By the third night she had Don Pedro begging for her, by the fifth, she knew how to play him more deftly than any instrument.

That night, once she finally let him come, he declared that he was the luckiest man in the world, to have made a partner of such a clever woman.

Beatrice felt rather pleased with herself.

They stayed a week longer at her uncle's house, before she departed with Don Pedro and his army, heading home for Aragon. It was only when they were boarding a fine sailing ship, setting off across the sea, that she realized, with a sudden sinking in her gut, that she was leaving all the life she knew. The future stretched out before her a great, vast unknown.

"What does it mean to be a princess?" Beatrice asked Don Pedro, when she had him alone again in their little cabin on the ship.

Don Pedro looked at her, a slight smile on my face. "You know as well as anyone, my Donna."

Beatrice sighed, and kissed him. "I know how to be the wife of a governor. What does it mean to be your wife? What needs doing?"

Don Pedro waved a dismissive hand. "I've been a bachelor for a long time. Things pretty much run themselves. I don't imagine there will be much for you to do."

Beatrice fought to keep herself from sighing in despair.

"What?" Don Pedro asked with a laugh. He was learning to read her, wretched man.

"You're useless," Beatrice informed him, not unkindly. "There isn't a court in the world that doesn't have some sort of politics. You only don't notice because it doesn't matter if you do. Who among your company best knows your court, and will not gossip about awkward questions?"

Don Pedro gave a lopsided smile. "You will not like the answer."

"Benedick," Beatrice said, and did let herself sigh then. "Invite him to dine with us?"

Don Pedro smiled. "My lady's wish is my command."

Benedick had told himself that he had only been avoiding the happy couple out of preservation of his bachelorhood. Everyone who had ever gotten married immediately tried to fix all their single friends' single status. It was awful. By avoiding them, he avoided that most dire of fates—matchmaking.

It wasn't until his heart leapt at the dinner invite that he realized he'd been lying to himself. Oh, it was preservation that kept him away, certainly, but it was preservation of his heart. He did not want to be around Beatrice's lively wit and Don Pedro's kind smiles. He did not want to watch Beatrice and Don Pedro give those gifts only to each other, and never, as they had, to Benedick.

How could he have been such a fool?

The nights spent in Don Pedro's tent—wine turning to fumbling laughter turning to shared pleasure—a part of him had always assumed they'd never end. Verbal sparring sessions with Beatrice, laughing at a well-placed barb—he hadn't known how much he'd cherished them. He hadn't moved to secure either of the twin pleasures of his heart, and in the absence of his surety, they had found each other sure instead.

And now he was a fool with a dinner invitation to watch his heart break. He joined them in their cabin with a sinking heart and a false smile.

"You must save me, Benedick," Beatrice said without preamble. "Don Pedro is useless."

"I like to think I have some uses!" the man himself protested, taking Benedick's elbow and leading him in. "I have missed you, friend," Don Pedro said quietly and fondly, squeezing Benedick's elbow before seating him on the small cabin table. "All I lack is some knowledge. And I am still not sure how important it really is."

"Benedick," Beatrice said, her palms up, imploring. "I pray you know the answer to the question Don Pedro does not. Who runs the household at Aragon, in the absence of any lady?"

Benedick looked from Beatrice to Don Pedro. "You don't know?" He couldn't quite keep the scandal from creeping into his tone.

"No!" Beatrice cried, while Don Pedro gave a guilty duck of his head.

Benedick turned to Beatrice, grinning. "You should not have married him."

"I am reconsidering my decision, I can assure you," Beatrice said, grinning back, before taking Don Pedro's hand and giving it a fond squeeze.

Seeing it didn't hurt nearly as much as Benedick thought it would. He found himself laughing, as he said with a sly grin. "We'll see if I can't satisfy the lady where you cannot."

"Watch yourself!" Don Pedro laughed, while Beatrice rolled her eyes.

Beatrice swatted the back of his head. "Who?" she insisted.

"The Lady Magdalena," Benedick said. "She is, ah—" he cut off and cast a look at Don Pedro, whose mouth had turned down in disgust. "She will know soon enough, my lord," Benedick said softly. "Better she be prepared."

Don Pedro gestured for him to continue.

"She is Don John's mother, and a mistress of the king. The estate had been managed by Don Pedro's own mother, but when she passed on, Lady Magdalena filled the role."

"Oh," Beatrice said, burying her head in her hands. "This is going to be so messy."

"Yes," Benedick said sympathetically.

"I'd cast her out before I let her treat you poorly," Don Pedro said.

"Ah—" Benedick began, but Beatrice beat him to it.

"And how many allies does she have? If a mistress was given the running of a household of a legitimate heir, she is well-accustomed to power, and will not let it go." Beatrice drummed her fingers on the table. "This must be handled carefully. Who are her allies?"

Benedick looked around. "Do you have parchment? This calls for a chart."

He spent the evening sketching out for Beatrice the shape of politics in Aragon. She was a quick study, and asked the right questions. It was as Benedick expected; a spinster was a harder role to play than a bachelor was. Benedick knew the ins and outs of court since it benefited him to know them. Beatrice would have learned them out of sheer survival.

Don Pedro looked quite sour by the end. "Perhaps I should have left you in Medina," he said, regretfully.

Beatrice picked up the back of his hand and laid a solemn kiss across the knuckles. "No," she said softly. She set down his hand, but did not let it go. She stroked her fingers lightly over the back of Don Pedro's hand as she said, "Thank you for the dinner, Benedick. I would not want to keep you from your sleep."

A clear dismissal. There was only one graceful response. Benedick stood, and swept the pair a bow. "It is my pleasure to serve. Thank you for the evening."

"Let us dine again soon," Don Pedro said, managing that bit of grace before his eyes went dark and his gaze fell to Beatrice. From his look, from her touch, it was painfully obvious what they would be doing as soon as he left the room.

"Of course," Benedick agreed.

That night in his bunk, as his hand fisted over his cock, he didn't know who he wished were really touching him. First one, then the other, then their hands joined together, Don Pedro pushing him into the bed while Beatrice wrapped her lips around his cock and—

Benedick spilled with a desperate gasp, and curled up on himself, feeling filthy to the core.

Don Pedro had always been immune from the worst cruelties of court. Oh, he knew he needed to move carefully, live up to expectations. But he was able to meet expectations simply by having a decent head for military tactics and enough sense to listen to those smarter than him. He hadn't needed to bend to the politics of the court. It flowed around him, it did not carry him on its current.

He saw how brutal that current could be now. His lady of bright laughter and fierce wit was a stranger in Aragon. And not a foreign princess, or someone that could be considered a captured treasure. No, she was too old, too plain, too lowly-ranked, declared the court. They didn't quite dare say it to his face, but he heard the whispers around him.

They thought he had chosen poorly.

It made him fiercely angry.

"Don't worry, husband," Beatrice said, smoothing her hand across the curve of his cheek. "You may not have prepared for this fight, but I have known it was coming since the day you convinced me your offer was in earnest. They don't catch me unawares."

Beatrice smiled at him, his quicksilver bit of magic, his light wrapped in human form. "Whatever I can do to make the path easier," Don Pedro promised. "I am your ally."

"And that is why I said yes anyway." Beatrice leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I will let you know."

It made it a little easier to bear, knowing that Beatrice felt she was up to the fight. Still, it wasn't a fight she should have to wage, and he said as much to Benedick one day when they met in the stables to check on the care of their horses.

"Did you really not guess this would happen?" Benedick asked, the usual barb a comment like that would carry surprisingly not present in his voice. "Honestly, I figured that was why you proposed. You found the one woman who wouldn't be eaten alive by the court." Benedick delivered the proclamation with a wistful look on his face.

"I wish I could claim that much forethought. But I simply enjoyed her brightness so much I found myself wanting to see if I could catch the sun," Don Pedro admitted. He winced. "And now in my selfishness I fear I have tucked the sun away in a cave, to be devoured by monsters."

"Don't worry," Benedick said, leaning in and putting his hand on Don Pedro's shoulder. "Beatrice is not so easily captured or cowed. And she has her allies, too. I swear to you, Don Pedro. Whatever I can do to help. It is hers, and yours."

Benedick's face was close, and his smile was the same one of good-humored reassurance that had led Don Pedro to confide in Benedick all those years ago. The smile that had made Don Pedro brave enough after a long day on campaign to lean in with a question. The smile that had lit up right before Benedick had kissed him in delighted response. Now, Don Pedro craved the comfort of that kiss. He desired—not excitement, but certainty. Their bodies knew each other, and Don Pedro wanted to walk the once-trodden path that he knew led to a pleasant destination.

Don Pedro swayed closer, for just a second, before he saw the way Benedick's eyes widened. Don Pedro jerked back, and Benedick with him, parting clumsily. Benedick looked at the ground and scowled, like there may be some rock to blame. Ever generous with his prince, as if Don Pedro hadn't been in danger of walking the same road as his father, faithless in his marriage bed.

Don Pedro closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He loved Beatrice. Deeply. More with each passing day. He did not want to ever do anything that would bring her grief.

And yet, his body still craved Benedick's like a ship longing for a port in the storm.

He found Beatrice that night and took her to his chambers scandalously early. He buried his head between her thighs and worshipped her until she was writhing. "I love you," he breathed into the skin of her belly, when they were both spent and satiated.

"I love you too," Beatrice replied, cupping her hand around the back of his head tenderly.

It was the first time they had said the words, and Don Pedro wrapped himself up in them. It was true down to his bones. He loved Beatrice profoundly, and he believed she loved him too. He let himself relax into her, into their soft and intimate love.

Perhaps all would have developed slowly and well, perhaps the days would have passed one to another as their love grew and their worries shrank. Don Pedro would never know, because the fates brought news of battle, and orders with the news.

"I must go to sea," Don Pedro told Beatrice as soon as he'd heard, interrupting her breakfast. "I don't like abandoning you here. Perhaps—you could travel with me?"

Beatrice put her spoon down and buried her head in her hands, laughing. "The fact you think a literal battlefield will be more difficult for me to bear than your court! No," she said firmly. "I need to stand unassisted here, sooner or later. It might as well be sooner. Go, and come quickly home."

What could Don Pedro do but agree?

He found Benedick shortly after. He had clearly already heard the same news, and was rallying the company in anticipation of orders. A reliable man, that Benedick. Trustworthy, too.

"A word, Benedick," Don Pedro called, and led Benedick over to a quieter corner. "I need a favor."

"And what is that, my lord?" Benedick asked.

"My seneschal, Master Armand. He is growing old in the years, slow. I would not leave the house in uncertain hands. Will you serve as seneschal, until I return and may appoint the position more permanently?"

Benedick looked at Don Pedro blankly. "I am terrible with numbers. I have never served in such a capacity. You will bring your house to ruin!"

"You review the management of your own estates cleverly enough," Don Pedro said. "I know you are capable."

"There are better," Benedick said. "I also watch your back, and ensure it remains unpierced by blades. And I am not clever enough with that, I am brilliant."

Don Pedro gave up the excuse, and said more clearly. "I do not want to leave Beatrice alone. I trust none but you. You swore, Benedick. You swore whatever you could do to help her. Please. I must go."

Benedick looked as if he had to choose between two deaths. "I never thought that would mean abandoning you."

"I am not abandoned," Don Pedro said. "Maybe there are none with quite your wit, but I know good men in a battle. But for this fight?" Don Pedro waved his hand across the courtyard, dismissing all the options. "There is none but you."

"Fine," Benedick said with ill grace. "You know Beatrice will not thank you for this. She's already dealing with a half-feral court. The last thing she needs is an unready seneschal."

"I think you underestimate the lady's esteem for you," Don Pedro said, the weight on his heart lifting. He grabbed Benedick by the shoulders and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, friend."

"Why did Don Pedro saddle me with you?" Beatrice said with despair, staring at Benedick balefully across the desk of the seneschal's office.

"Misguided chivalry," Benedick replied. At least he didn't look any more pleased to be there than Beatrice was to have him there. "He begged. I could not refuse him."

Beatrice sighed, and settled ungracefully into the chair across from the desk. Of course her loving dolt of a husband would think of this was a reasonable plan. "Already, the court spins a thousand rumors about our sordid affair. I wouldn't have had to combat those if he had just left Master Armand." Beatrice rubbed her temples.

"For what it's worth, Beatrice, I will strenuously deny any rumors of impropriety, and will take every opportunity to praise your strong interest in financial management and the reliability of your reign."

Benedick was much too smart to be acting like such an idiot. "Benedick, you know as well as I, that's exactly what a seneschal who was having an affair with the lady of the house would say."

Benedick wrinkled his nose.

"This is not sustainable," Beatrice said, pushing to her feet. "We need an accounting of the outlying estates," she commanded—an order, not a request. "It's been far too long since Master Armand ran the circuit. Get me a thorough accounting of their affairs."

"Don Pedro left me here to keep you safe," Benedick said, sounding reluctant.

"And whose assessment of the court do you trust more?" Beatrice raised her eyebrows.

After a moment, Benedick sighed, stood, and gave her a low bow. "I will ride out in the morning, my lady. And spend the night packing in a very public place, with plenty of witnesses that I was nowhere near your bedchambers."

"Thank you," Beatrice said firmly. She paused, a sudden well of tenderness and longing for simpler times surging within her. What wouldn't she give to debate Benedick during a stroll through her uncle's olive orchard. "I—I am sorry, to dismiss you. I would like your company."

Benedick's answering smile was sad. "And that's the whole problem, isn't it?"

Beatrice turned that question over in her mind as she watched Benedick ride off the next morning. No, it wasn't anything like the whole problem. But it was, she could admit, a piece of it. She still wanted that life where Benedick had been a little braver, and she had been a little less proud. But that wasn't the life she had gotten, and she loved her husband, and she had more important things to think about.

Beatrice turned, and walked back into the castle proper. She had a court to win.

Lady Magdalena was the key. She was a threat, but there were cracks in her foundation. The king, rumors were saying, was losing interest fast. There were whispers of new affairs, new bastards. Her oldest son was Don John, and he had lost the prince's favor. The court circled like carrion birds, waiting to tear her apart.

It would be so easy to tip things over the edge. But the power struggle that would follow—Beatrice did not like her chances of winning it. Right now, the court was mocking to her back, polite to her face. With someone other than Lady Magdalena leading the charge, it could so easily turn hostile. Deadly.

Beatrice turned the problem over in her mind, and then realized with a start that Don Pedro had done her a magnificent favor, in fact, when he had appointed Benedick as seneschal.

She invited Lady Magdalena to dine at her right at the next court dinner. A very public declaration of favor, and one Lady Magdalena could not refuse without openly declaring war, which she was highly unlikely to do.

"My lady," Lady Magdalena said as she sat, hiding a mean smile behind her fan. "I am always such a fan of your brave choice in dinner fashion. So understated! You will get a reputation for modesty."

"Oh," Beatrice said, letting her own smile turn a little mean in response, "that would be the most clever of tricks, to convince the court to misjudge me. Please, my lady, sit. Perhaps we may discuss how others' judgement has faltered."

Beatrice made polite small talk through the serving of the bread, made clever jokes during the soup course, and just as a plate filled with delicate smoked fish and cheese was brought out, said to Lady Magdalena, "We need not be enemies. You know I could destroy you, I know I would not win the struggle that follows. We can continue this tedious stalemate, or we can come to a different arrangement."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Lady Magdalena.

"Unlike so many other fools here, I know better than to discard a powerful, clever woman," Beatrice said bluntly, then took a little bite of her fish and cheese.

Lady Magdalena did not reply, just sat staring at Beatrice.

Beatrice swallowed before continuing. "I find myself in need of a new seneschal. The lord my husband appointed—he has no gift for it. He would step down, if a loyal, sensible replacement could be manufactured. I believe Don Ramon would serve."

Beatrice paused after her announcement, curious what the reaction would be. Don Ramon was Lady Magdalena's youngest son. He was something of a dreamer, and all the rumors said that his mother despaired of him ever finding meaningful work. Would the lady offer up her son as an appropriate choice, in hope that Beatrice had not heard the rumors?

"Indeed?" the Lady Magdalena asked, without so much as raising an eyebrow. "He is hideously underqualified. And much too young."

"There is only one quality I concern myself with there. Is he given to heed the advice of his mother?" Beatrice asked, pleased Lady Magdalena had not gone with the easy lie. "I know who has handled the household, when there was neither lord nor lady at Aragon."

Lady Magdalena gave Beatrice a considering look, tilting her head to one side. "I may be capable, but what on earth makes you think I am inclined to be loyal?"

Beatrice continued, "Serve me well, and I will see you and your son made powerful. If he is fool enough to disregard you, or you are fool enough to disregard me, when Don Pedro returns he will strike your son from his position, saying it was kind of me to honor his kin, but there is no space for incompetence, especially among bastard half-brothers. It would be the ruin of you both, and I consider that appropriate motivation."

"Speaking of ruin," Lady Magdalena mused with false lightness, "I have heard the most interesting rumors. The price you laid on Don Pedro for accepting his hand was the banishment of my son."

Beatrice was glad the lady had mentioned it. She did not want this growing and festering between them. "Your son cast rumors about my cousin Hero, hired a maid to be caught as if my beloved Hero had been cheating. He wanted to see her ruined, and Don Pedro miserable, simply because he could. I demanded his banishment, yes. But, Magdalena, I only did it because he went against my own."

Lady Magdalena considered this. "And if my son served you faithfully and well, and heeded the advice of his mother?"

Beatrice smiled. "Then you both would be my own, and I will guard you just as fiercely."

After a moment, Magdalena returned the smile in kind. "To my surprise, I see Don Pedro may have chosen his wife well, after all. I think my son would be an excellent choice as your seneschal, Donna Beatrice. And while actions speak far louder, for now you may have my word, I will serve you faithfully and well."

"You fired me?" Benedick blurted out, as he tried to make sense of Beatrice's words.

"I expanded the role," she said with an elegant hand-gesture. "Since we clearly need you as the outer estate manager, I have appointed Don Ramon as the estate seneschal."

Benedick blinked, and then gave a low whistle. "You convinced Lady Magdalena to your side."

Beatrice's answering smile was radiant. "It has been so much more pleasant here, as of late. Her son's a terrible seneschal, but an excellent figurehead."

"So," Benedick replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "You intend to have me out riding estates the whole duration of Don Pedro's absence?"

"Not all of it. You may return for occasional nights in court," Beatrice said with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Benedick, but it is too well known that we have prior connections, and people are far too eager to find scandal where there is none."

Benedick bowed his head agreeably. "Fair enough."

He couldn't fault her interpretation. And if he wanted to crawl into her bed, he should have been the one to ask for her hand—a year ago when they were both still unattached, a decade ago when they were both still young.

"In fact," Beatrice continued, "will you join myself and Lady Magdalena for dinner tonight? She knows you are my ally, and wishes to find herself on better terms with you."

Benedick sighed. "Are you sure you don't have urgent business you need me to ride out on? Urgently?"

He'd spent too long sidling around Don Pedro's pained acceptance of the woman who rivaled his mother. Benedick didn't think he had ever been cruel to the lady, but he had certainly never been kind, either.

"No," Beatrice said with a laugh. "Come now, you've weathered my barbs often enough. You can manage hers as well."

Benedick blinked. Lady Magdalena had always been…background. Beautiful and easily avoided. He'd never thought of her as someone with any sort of fire.

Dinner quickly proved him wrong. She traded barbs as quickly as Beatrice, and Benedick couldn't help but get drawn in, bantering back as they discussed the ins and outs of the court.

"Of course, Don Hermalindo has the largest of estates. He must, as he is incapable of speaking of anything else," Benedick said with a grin.

"Size," Lady Magdalena said with a wink. "I care not for size, if a man doesn't take care to maintain it. Size is nothing without yield."

"You think the man deficient in his ability to bring a crop?" Benedick leaned in, a hint of a laugh in the words.

"Gossip in these matters is useless," Beatrice said with false primness and a real grin. "The results speak for themselves."

"Short on both heirs and coin, that one," Lady Magdalena agreed with a ribald humor that had Benedick bursting out laughing.

"Oh, you are a fun one once you drop that studious politeness," Lady Magdalena said. She gave Benedick a slow up and down. "You know I find my position at court suddenly resistant to scandal, if you wanted to have a go with me at generating some. Will keep the rumors of you crawling into our Princess's bed down, if you're well known to be inhabiting someone else's."

Benedick opened his mouth to give a polite refusal, when Beatrice's glass shattered. Benedick looked over, and was shocked to find that she had a white-knuckled grip on the sharp-edged remains.

"My lady," he blurted, reaching for her hands.

"It's fine," she said, too quickly, and dropped the shards she was holding.

Benedick took her hand gently in his, examining it. Only a shallow cut. Benedick grabbed the water and a cloth napkin, still carefully holding her hand so as not to hurt it. "It'll be okay," he murmured softly.

"Oh my dear," Lady Magdalena said, her voice full of sudden sympathy. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think there was any truth to the rumors."

"There isn't," Beatrice said, through clenched teeth. Benedick looked up to find her face a miserable mottled red.

She looked like she was barely restraining herself from shaking apart. Benedick wanted to pull her into his arms, but instead he carefully tucked the wet napkin into her hand and let go. She slowly began cleaning the cut herself, and Benedick busied himself with picking up the pieces of glass.

"No, but you both long for it, that much is obvious," Lady Magdalena said, sympathetically. "Don't worry, dear, give it a few years and the court will die down enough that you can carry on an affair, if you're quiet enough about it."

Benedick froze, his lungs seizing like he had been thrown in ice water. "I would not," Benedick said, his voice cracking, "betray my lord like that. Or my lady. No matter the temptation."

"Well you'd hardly be betraying her if she wanted it," Lady Magdalena said practically.

Benedick remembered pressing his lips to the back of Don Pedro's knuckles. He remembered the sudden hunger in Don Pedro's eyes in the stable. Misery rose in his gut, as he knew that, no, if desire alone ruled the day, he'd be just as much at risk of betraying Beatrice as he ever would be of betraying Don Pedro.

Benedick was so caught up in these thoughts that he barely heard Lady Magdalena continue, "But don't worry, I see you two are bound to be the romantic, pining from afar types. I'll keep your tragic, noble love a secret, never you fear."

Benedick felt his cheeks burn. No. Nothing noble about his lust at all.

Beatrice reached forward, and gently uncurled his fingers from around the shard of glass he had picked up. Benedick hadn't realized he was in danger of cutting himself, too. "Magdalena," she said gently, her attention still fixed on him, "could you fetch a servant to attend to the broken glass? I'm afraid we're in no state to clean it up."

"How long do you want me to take, getting the servant?" Lady Magdalena asked.

"Only a few minutes," Beatrice replied, and Benedick saw the way her mouth curled in a miserable little smile.

Then they were alone. But only for a few moments.

"You and Don Pedro," Beatrice said, as soon as the door clicked shut.

She had always been able to read him damnably well. "Ended," Benedick said.

"When?" Beatrice asked, and Benedick could not refuse her.

"The trip to Messina was the last time," Benedick said. The timing was damning.

"Because he and I…" Beatrice sighed. "Oh, Benedick, I wish you'd told me."

"What would it have changed? He is still a good man, you are still a fine partner. You both deserve your happiness," Benedick said firmly. "Beatrice, I would never—"

"I know," Beatrice said, stepping back carefully, as footsteps approached the door. "And neither will I. But, still…" she trailed off and sighed. "I wish I had known."

The servant entered, followed shortly after by Lady Magdalena.

Benedick excused himself, and rode out the next day.

Don Pedro hadn't thought his wife was going to fail to survive his court. He would have never left her alone if that were the case. But, he had to admit, he had expected that she would manage to maintain. Keep her head above water no matter how hard the waves.

He hadn't expected her to thrive.

Before he even returned home no less than three people had commented to him on his wife's compassionate nature, her attention to detail, and her deft maneuvering through the court. As he arrived at the gates, none other than Baron Alvaraz—the most notoriously grumpy octogenarian in court—had complimented him on his choice of wife.

"We got a little worried, with how long you were leaving it," he said, scowling. "But you chose well in the end."

"What have you done?" he asked Beatrice with delight, as he swept her into his arms and dragged her off to his bedchambers as soon as was conceivably appropriate. "All sing your praises!"

"You have your victories, I have mine," Beatrice said with a flushed grin, mouthing at the underside of his jaw with her lips. "Surely you don't want to discuss them now."

Don Pedro let himself be distracted. Only once they were both satiated and spent, and cuddled naked in each other's arms, did he think to ask again. "Tell me everything," he demanded.

He could feel Beatrice's smile against his skin. "It is probably for the best that you let me wear you out, first. You might not like my methods."

"My clever wife," Don Pedro said. "I don't think I could ever find you wanting."

Don Pedro didn't quite eat his words. But as he listened to Beatrice tell the story of how she recruited his father's mistress by giving away Benedick's position and then appointing a wildly unqualified replacement he…had his doubts. But he managed to hold his tongue until she explained, and he found he could not disagree with her.

"I'm sorry," Don Pedro said. "I didn't realize I was putting you into such a precarious position with Benedick. I—how about next time I ask you before I try to do anything clever?"

Beatrice buried her face in his chest and laughed. "Yes, probably for the best." She sobered, sitting upright. "Love," she said carefully. "May I ask you a difficult question?"

"Of course," Don Pedro said carefully, growing concerned. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his attention focused on her. "Anything."

"I wish—I wish for you to know there is no judgement in my asking. Or lack of faith in you." Beatrice looked as nervous as Don Pedro had ever seen her.

"My love, ask," Don Pedro replied. "Or you will leave me sleepless with wondering."

"Did you leave Benedick here to avoid putting yourself in a precarious position?" Beatrice asked, her eyes drilling into him.

"I—" Don Pedro looked away, remembering all too vividly that moment in the stables, where he had been overwhelmed by love for Beatrice, and still desperate to find shelter in Benedick's arms. "Perhaps," he answered in a quiet whisper.

Beatrice drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. "I—learned the truth of your past. Accidentally. Benedick has never been good at keeping secrets from me. And I don't want this to fester." Beatrice took a breath, and said in a rush, "I love you deeply, I desire you profoundly, I am happy with you. But it is not just the gossip—I want Benedick as well, in both body and mind. I would not have him, even if he were willing. Which he is not. But I will not lie and say the desire is not there. And I will not fault you for your own. I wanted that plainly said."

Don Pedro closed his eyes. His first instinct was to blurt that all he wanted was his friends to be happy, and they should—what? Carry on an affair that would ruin both their reputations, drive him to jealousy, and leave them all worse off? No. But Don Pedro didn't know what the solution was.

"Take him with you next time," Beatrice said, softly, certainly. "I don't mind if you find some comfort away from me. And I am pleased at the idea of my friend being happy. And"—Beatrice paused to give a brave smile—"no bastards to concern ourselves with."

Don Pedro blinked at her, not believing his ears. "My lady," he gritted out, with barely contained anger, pushing himself fully to sitting. "I do not appreciate the insinuation that I am less faithful than you. Yes, there is a history. But history is where it shall remain. I said my vows, I will keep them."

Beatrice looked a little taken aback, but set her chin. "It isn't an unfaithful act if I give you permission, now is it? I know I could hold you to fidelity, and you would do it gladly. But that is not what I need from you. You will need to go to war. I am pleased that there is some comfort for you on the edges of battlefields."

"And do you grant yourself the same permissions?" Don Pedro had to fight down a snarl as he said the words.

"You and I both know it is different for women," Beatrice snapped back. "I will not have the gossip and rumors of cuckolding spread throughout the court. Besides," Beatrice tensed her jaw and looked away. "It is not a permission that can be granted to oneself. I am not angling for an exchange. I simply wanted to give you the gift of my understanding, and my blessing, should you want it. It is up to you."

"I don't—" Don Pedro felt his anger leave, only an empty ache behind. "My Beatrice," he tried again, and reached out to put his hand on her hip. "I know he loves you still. And perhaps he also desires me, I don't doubt your judgement. But to offer myself to him as a prize he can have when we are away from Aragon, this half-measure of affection offered by half of the people that hold his heart; I think it would be cruel. I don't have it in me to be that cruel."

Beatrice's face fell. "I suppose it would be," she said quietly. "I hadn't thought of it like that. But—" She tossed her head backward, taking a breath, "You speak of him loving me and that is—"

"Please," Don Pedro said. "I know you are made of quick words and sharp wit, but bear with my earnestness and do not make light of this. I do not mistake my words. I see that he loves you. I simply did not know until after I had offered you my hand."

Beatrice's face fell, and Don Pedro reached out. He shivered with relief when Beatrice allowed herself to be pulled into comfort, and with her safely in the circle of his arms, Don Pedro thought through all the mess of their tangled relationships, the lines between him and Beatrice and Benedick. "Beatrice," Don Pedro said slowly, as an idea occurred to him. "I have the urge to be clever, but I am definitely going to need your approval, first."

Beatrice could hear her husband's heart from where she lay, under her ear the thudding life sounded nervous. She took a breath, hugged him closer, and reminded herself that she could always stop him if his clever idea was a little too clever. "Tell me your thoughts," she said, turning so her chin was against his sternum and she could see him clearly.

Well, see his chin clearly, he was staring at the ceiling.

And then his nose and his eyes as he lifted up, shifting so he slid her off of him, until he settled facing her. His palm reached out and traced her cheek as they lay curled towards each other.

"I've always sworn I would not be my father," Don Pedro said slowly, careful in his words as he went. "I watched the way he indulged his lusts. Watched the strain that put on my mother, and the unrest and conniving opportunities that created in the court. And so I made a vow to myself, I would not marry, unless I felt certain I could be true."

Beatrice nodded, her cheek sliding under his palm. She felt a little frisson of pride, that for some reason he had looked at her and decided, yes, he could be true, when he'd never felt that way before.

"I've been fortunate," Don Pedro continued. "I didn't need to rush to marry for politics. I thought perhaps I never would, and I would designate an heir out of the court. It wouldn't be unheard of. I thought it very unlikely I would find someone I could love for the rest of my life." Don Pedro smiled suddenly, and it crinkled the corners of his eyes. "And then I found you."

"I'm still not sure what you saw in me," Beatrice admitted, turning so she could kiss his palm.

"I see a beautiful, strong, complicated woman, with a wit like a scalpel. I see someone who is steadfast and clever enough to manage my court, to manage me. Someone who isn't afraid to call out my idiocies, but who will support me and love me into better decisions."

Beatrice couldn't help her small laugh. "You do have odd taste. By all means you should have left me at my uncle's house and found someone biddable. I will cause you no end of grief."

"No," Don Pedro said, sliding his palm along her skin until he cupped her shoulder, shaking her a little. "I do not want a biddable wife, that I can supplant with biddable mistresses. I want to be honest, faithful, and as good of a husband as I can be."

Beatrice swallowed, remembering his anger when she suggested he take Benedick with him for company while he was away. "I see why you found my proposal so painful, then," she said softly, apologetically.

Don Pedro shook his head. "I heard it as a prophecy, that I was doomed to be everything I had striven not to become. But...I have been thinking on what you said. It isn't infidelity if permission is given."

Beatrice felt a tangle of emotions crash over her. Hope and joy that Benedick and Don Pedro would be able to find some space to be together. And slinking in their wake, jealousy, that she would not be a part of what they shared. She shoved that jealousy aside. She had meant her offer, that she would gladly share Don Pedro with Benedick. This jealousy would pass. But Don Pedro hadn't objected out of concerns for jealousy. "As you said, wouldn't it be cruel?"

"Not if it was…" Don Pedro paused, looking at her with a little half-smile. "This is where I fear I am being clever. Not if it was all of us. Together."

Beatrice loved her husband's heart. Deep and wide enough for the world, but perhaps not always the most practical. She swallowed down that affectionate heartache, and replied steadily, "If you're worried about unrest in the court, then you know I can't have the appearance of being untrue. You know that—"

"If I was in the room?" Don Pedro cut her off. "Would the court really name you faithless if you were never alone with him, and it was always, always the three of us?"

Beatrice swallowed suddenly, overtaken by the image of Benedick's hands stroking along her breasts and hips and thighs while Don Pedro watched. Heat flamed between her legs, and she squirmed.

Don Pedro caught the motion and smiled, his hand starting to stroke further down. Beatrice reached out and grabbed it before she could get too distracted. "Later," she said firmly.

Don Pedro grinned. "We could pretend that he is watching."

"Heirs!" Beatrice choked out, firmly pulling Don Pedro's hand off of her skin before she could make any stupid decisions. "There is still the matter of heirs."

"Mmm, yes," Don Pedro acknowledged. "I would prefer to leave that uncomplicated. But, as you well know, there are many, many ways to enjoy a body that do not lead to heirs."

Beatrice felt the heat flame between her legs again. "Husband," Beatrice said, the lustful crack in her voice undercutting the reproach.

Don Pedro just leaned in, with a wicked grin on his face. He said softly, "He can fuck me if he really wants to set his cock in somebody."

"Husband!" It was a moan this time, and she felt he cheeks flame.

"Oh!" Don Pedro said with real delight, rolling to cover Beatrice with his body. "Your blushes! I never thought this would be a way to see them again! I've missed them."

"Menace," Beatrice hissed, but Don Pedro kissed her to silence. He was, curse him, a fantastic kisser.

Don Pedro leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I can teach him how to please you. Tutor him in your pleasure, my fingers alongside his…"

Don Pedro left off speaking, and switched to practical demonstration.

It did not take long before Beatrice rolled over the brink of pleasure once again, and in the aftermath, glared at her husband. The glare was somewhat undercut by all the trembling that was happening in her limbs.

"The idea pleases you then?" Don Pedro asked, sounding smug.

"I—I hardly believe that to be an appropriate state of mind for rational consideration," Beatrice said, intending to move herself away from his clever fingers, and instead tucking herself along the line of his body.

"Mmm," Don Pedro said, kissing the top of her head as he cuddled her again. "I suppose I should be kind and let you consider without distraction.

Beatrice laughed. She traced her hands idly along his skin, until her hand fell to his hip, and then back, around to his ass. "Would you really let him…?" she found herself asking, captivated by the mental image.

She felt Don Pedro's chuckle, more than heard it. "My love," he said. "I have really let him. And to be perfectly honest, letting had nothing to do with it. Begged him would be more accurate."

"Oh," Beatrice said faintly. "I think I want to see that."

"So my love, it sounds as if this arrangement would work for the both of us. What about the court? Are there concerns I'm not seeing?" Don Pedro asked.

Beatrice took no small amount of pride in the fact that he would actually think to ask that. He could be taught. "They…they have tremendous respect for you. If you were truly always there, and took Benedick with you when you left—"

"Yes, yes," he said, in laughing response to her emphatic aside.

"—then I think the only thing to concern ourselves with is that there might be some rumors you were less infatuated with me. But you, my lord, have been stubbornly, madly, in love with your wife quite publicly. So long as that did not change…"

"It won't," Don Pedro said, and Beatrice believed him.

"I know," she responded. "When the rumors start, I can publicly favor Benedick as well. It will make it rather clear to all what is going on, but it is the sort of scandal that will unite us, not divide us."

Beatrice paused, caught up in the joy of the mental image of being able to flirt with Don Pedro and Benedick alike in formal dinners, and then having them both in her bed afterward. It would be an incendiary bit of gossip, but not one likely to harm Don Pedro, Beatrice, or Aragon.

It would put Benedick far more in the spotlight than he had ever sought in the past, though.

"It may be more attention than Benedick wants," Beatrice said, reminding her own heart not to get too excited, as well as Don Pedro's.

"Let's ask him," Don Pedro said. "Please. Let's at least give him the chance to say no."

Beatrice looked at her husband for a long moment, and marvelled at his heart, not perfect, but always striving to be better, and big enough for all the love it held. "I love you," Beatrice said softly. "Yes."

Benedick considered his options as he regarded the invitation to a private dinner with the prince and his wife. He had a few that he could think of. He could fake his own death. Or perhaps committing himself to a monastery would be simpler. He could run away, change his name, and become a travelling troubadour.

He'd make a very bad troubadour, a worse monk, and he had no idea how to evaluate his ability to be a corpse. Probably best he grit his teeth and attend dinner.

What were they thinking?

If the last months had proven anything, it was that he couldn't be trusted in a room alone with either of them. Well, with both of them in the room together he should be able to keep himself from doing anything too mortifying.

This probably wasn't really a social call, anyway. The prince was back, and had learned just how useless Benedick had been at his job of supporting Beatrice. For that matter, maybe Don Pedro was going to banish him for his complete inability to remain in the same castle as the woman he'd sworn to protect! That would resolve the issue of what to do about future dinner invitations nicely.

"I am sorry my lord," Benedick said, when he finally entered the room after a good two minutes of pacing in front of the door. He winced internally at the way his voice was full of too-loud cheer. "I tried to guard your lady's back but she was far too clever for me." Turning to Beatrice, he added, "Your husband is going to have my head if you haven't explained yourself."

'Your lady' and 'your husband'. Remember that, Benedick. They belong to each other, not to you.

"Don't worry," Beatrice said, sweeping in and kissing him on the cheek. "I have explained everything."

Benedick froze. Everything? What did that mean? His skin flamed at the touch of her lips against his cheek. She smelled faintly floral and her skin was soft and warm against his. Was he imagining that she lingered? Her smile was genuinely happy as she pulled away, and Benedick's stomach twisted at the reminder of the intimacy they had both denied themselves.

Benedick swallowed and strode past her into the room, putting some distance between them. In a massive tactical blunder, however, his striding took him straight into Don Pedro, who caught him by the elbow and tugged Benedick closer. A dire miscalculation.

"Don't worry, friend," Don Pedro said, in his intimate voice, the one for tents when it was just the two of them, using wine and furs and each other to keep warm. "I know how impossible it is to stand against Beatrice."

Benedick looked over at Beatrice, terrified for the heartbreak he was sure he'd see on her face. After all, her husband was—did Don Pedro mean to make Beatrice witness this? He would have never thought his kind prince could be so cruel.

But Beatrice was just smiling, a little devilishly, like she always had when coming up with a particularly good score in their verbal sparring matches. She crossed the room to where Benedick stood with her husband. "And I know how impossible it is to deny Don Pedro when he has a scheme. So don't worry, Benedick. You are forgiven for following his instructions to remain with me."

"And you are forgiven for leaving her, as well," Don Pedro agreed.

"Well that's a relief," Benedick said. He could not bear this. He must find some escape. "Friends, I regret that—" he looked to the door, and his normally clever mind completely failed to find even the slightest excuse to flee.

"Don Pedro has another scheme," Beatrice said, before Benedick could think of something. "But he brought me into the planning, and I have approved. I hope you too will be pleased with the outcome."

Benedick wasn't sure what to be more worried about—the growing feebleness of his mind or Don Pedro's scheme. The world resolved that debate for him, by giving him something entirely new to worry about, when Beatrice placed a hand on his sternum and pushed him backward, until his back was pressed against Don Pedro's chest.

"What—?" Benedick choked out in a whisper, shivering as Don Pedro brought a hand to his waist. It was so close to his mortifying nighttime fantasies that Benedick thought he might be dreaming. "Don't tease," he said, meaning for it to come out as a light flirtation. But the words were begging, nothing more.

"This isn't teasing. It's an offer," Beatrice said.

What?

"Maybe even a plea," Don Pedro added, bending his head to brush his lips along the side of Benedick's neck. "We miss you," he said simply. "We would like you with us."

What?

Benedick couldn't think with the feeling of Don Pedro's warm breath dancing over his skin. The words were second to the sensation, sandwiched between two bodies, both of them intent on him. But the meaning came through a moment later, and Benedick's breath caught.

"You can't mean—" he choked out.

"I had a much more complicated way of saying it," Beatrice replied with a lopsided smile. "But I let him convince me to simplicity." She reached her hand up, to cup Benedick's jaw in her palm. "We have all sworn, over and over, that we would not break our vows. And so we won't. But Don Pedro and I have decided to amend our contract. I will not consider it infidelity if he seeks you out."

"And I would be delighted to see the two of you finally kindle something not hidden behind five layers of jest," Don Pedro added. "It will not be a betrayal if you act on your love for her."

Benedick's eyes fell shut. Love. Yes, that was the word for it, he loved them both. He'd tried to convince himself it was lust. A flame of desire burning so bright through him that he'd thought he'd burn himself up on it. He could destroy himself, he could destroy them. He'd told himself this, over and over while alone at night, that acting on his lusts would mean the end of everything.

Did it make a difference if it was love? Could he really let himself have this? Could they really offer it to him?

Don Pedro's hand squeezed his waist. It was a steadying gesture from a steady man. "Benedick, my most faithful friend, my adored lover, this is not a trap. Say but a word and we will let you go and never speak of this again; say another and we will turn to dinner and let you think. Or say another still, and we will lavish the fullness of our love upon you, and make up for lost time."

Could he ever really turn it down?

"Kiss me," Benedick decided. He opened his eyes, and saw Beatrice's face, looking up at him intently, kindness and humor and every loving and lovely thing in her eyes. "Please."

Beatrice surged up on her toes, forcing Benedick backward into Don Pedro's embrace. He gasped and she kissed him, and, oh, her kiss was everything he'd dreamed. They hadn't kissed before, but there had been a moment once when they both were young, that they'd looked at each other, and Benedick thought—yes. He'd been idly dreaming of that not-yet, never-been, kiss for years.

His dreams had never involved a third party, which was clearly a failure of imagination on his part.

Don Pedro's hand rested on his waist, while his other arm reached around and cradled Beatrice's shoulder. He united the two of them, a solid wall of support.

"Yes," Don Pedro said contently, certainly, the sound of a man who had gotten things right. "That's good."

Benedick shuddered between Don Pedro and Beatrice, turning until his lips found Don Pedro's chin, and after a moment Don Pedro kissed Benedick, too. Benedick pushed into the kiss and held himself back at the same time, like a starving man offered a feast and trying not to glut himself senseless. Benedick fell back down, flat on his feat, his eyes closed as he leaned against Don Pedro, shivering.

He didn't want to ask, but he had to know, had to let it be said before he let his heart be entirely consumed. In a voice that was nothing more than an agonized whisper, he asked, "For how long? What are you—for the night?"

"Oh, dear heart," Don Pedro said, leaning in to kiss Benedick's hair. "No. For as long as you will have us. If the church would allow it, I would drag you to the altar and tie us all together in matrimony. As that is not yet an option, I will say this. Be welcome with us, welcome in our bed."

Benedick looked over at Beatrice again. Don Pedro was a romantic, but Beatrice was the one who was clear-eyed and steady enough to do what must be done. He looked at the woman who had sent him away to save them both, and asked, "Is that true?"

Beatrice tilted her head and considered him. "I am less inclined to romance, and more prone to practicality." She gave a little smile as she drummed her fingers across his chest. "But even practically, though scandal will abound, there is little anyone can do to harm us, so long as we remain firm in the love between us all. It is an open offer, Benedick. Do you want us?"

"I have wanted nothing more, and should I be given it, would want nothing else. Love, my lady?" Benedick asked.

"Don Pedro's sentimentality is rubbing off on me," Beatrice said, wrinkling her nose.

Benedick leaned down and kissed the tip of it. "I love you," he said softly. She deserved to hear the words from him, even if Don Pedro had already said them. "I'm sorry I didn't figure it out until you were married."

Beatrice kissed him, and then said, "I'm not. For if I had married you, Don Pedro would be far too good at hiding his affection. It would have been years until we figured it out."

Beatrice threw a smile over Benedick's shoulder, and from behind him, Benedick heard Don Pedro say, "I—I don't know about that. I imagine the two of you would be happy together." He pulled back, a little, from Benedick, as if he was nothing more than a matchmaker, and his work there was done.

Unacceptable.

With an exasperated look at Beatrice, mirrored by her own expression, Benedick turned in Don Pedro's arms and grabbed the back of his neck. A moment later, Beatrice slid up along both of their sides, going up on her toes so she could rest her chin on Don Pedro's shoulder.

"I love you," Benedick said to Don Pedro in return, and felt the man jolt in surprise. "My lord, my friend, my lover, I am sorry if I have ever given you the impression you were anything less than essential to me."

Don Pedro shuddered in his arms, and Benedick kissed him, at the same time Beatrice kissed his cheek. "I love you, Benedick," he broke the kiss to say. "I love you both so much, I—"

"See, if Beatrice and I had been wed," Benedick pulled back a little further, retreating back into teasing after all that exhausting earnest feeling, "I would just be stuck pining away from you, and poor Beatrice would never have known she had a chance at your affection."

"It's true," Beatrice said, her hair brushing his skin as she turned her head to nibble on Don Pedro's ear. Ah good, she had figured out that weak point. As Don Pedro gasped, she whispered, "I never would have dared to love you, if you hadn't shown me your love first."

She pulled back, and Benedick turned to find her regarding the two of them, a contented smile on her face. "Perhaps there are other ways we may have come together. Other choices, other stories. But I am pleased with this one, and I would like to see it through." She held out both her hands, one to each of them. "Gentlemen, I think we have business in the bedroom."

Don Pedro smiled at Benedick.

"As my lady demands," Benedick said, stepping back to take Beatrice's hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it in a courtly gesture. "My lord, will you join us?"

"Always," Don Pedro said, stepping forward to take Beatrice's other hand. "Now, and for the rest of my days."

"A most excellent vow," Beatrice decided, as she began pulling them both in the direction of the bed. "I believe I shall partake in it as well."

"A most excellent wife," Benedick said with a grin to Don Pedro. "I believe I shall part—" he yelped when Beatrice dug her nails into the skin of his wrist.

"A mirthful fool," Beatrice chided, as she soothed the sting of her nails with the brush of her thumb.

"We would not have him any other way," Don Pedro agreed, as they reached the bed, and Don Pedro pressed Benedick down upon it.

"But you will have me?" Benedick asked, reaching for them.

"You heard Don Pedro," Beatrice said, sitting next to him on the bed and cradling his cheek, utterly serious for once as she said, "Always. Now, and for the rest of our days."

"Good," Benedick declared, joy surging within him as he looked at the two halves of his heart. He reached up, took Don Pedro's hand, wrapped his fingers around Beatrice's shoulders, and pulled them both down to the bed to join him, tangling them all up in a heap of limbs and laughter.