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Chapter Text

You can feel the afternoon sun beat down on your back and shoulders. You know that tomorrow, your skin will be a shade darker than it currently is. It’s difficult work on the fields, and you do most of the work yourself to allow your younger siblings time to rest.

In the fields that your family own, much of the work is usually done by servants and extra hired help. This year, though, harvest must be completed primarily by servants and your family itself. Almost all of the able-bodied young men have gone off to fight in what seems to be a pointless war.

At the dinner table, your father says grace and you all begin to eat from the dishes sat before you.

Your younger sister, whom everyone affectionately calls Tibb, reaches over you to grab the plate of potatoes sitting on your other side. As she does this, you realize how small the dining room seems to you now. With your eight younger brothers and sisters and parents all sitting around you, you feel a claustrophobic uneasiness settle.

Your father holds the title of Baron, making your family one of the honored nobility in the land. That being said, you were also modest in wealth. Your father, being the youngest of his family, was left with a title and land. Nothing else.

So here you sit, finally of age to seek your own life, but unable to because of current circumstances. Not only did your family lack the funds to let you attend court and be
introduced into society (and possibly married), but the lack of young men in your province means that there is little chance for even settling with someone of lower birth.

Your mother clears her throat and speaks to your father a bit more loudly than usual. “My sister and her husband will be joining us tomorrow, dear.” You catch her eyes glance at you for a second before she turns back to your father.

“As you’ve told me.” He looks at you as well and calls your name. “(Y/N), you won’t be going to the fields tomorrow. Make sure to wear your best when your aunt calls to visit.”

“Of course,” you say; puzzled but appreciative of the break you’ll have from the hard work.

The next morning comes too early it seems after the hard work you endured yesterday. You hear a shrill voice in your ear.

“Wake up! Wake up! Uncle Leo and aunt Evangeline are already here!” It’s Tibb’s voice waking you.

You shudder your eyes open against a bright sun streaming in through the window.

“What?” you mutter through your tired voice. “They’re already here?”

“Yes! Don’t you know it’s midday?” She runs to your wardrobe and goes through it frantically. “Now come on! Aunt Evangeline’s already asked about you.”

You sit up and pull yourself out of bed with sluggish deliberateness. Uncle Leo and Aunt Evangeline visit every year, this visit had to be no different. But something occurs to you.

“Tibb, why aren’t you in the fields?”

She pulls out a long cream dress and throws it upon the bed. “Aunt Evangeline asked for me too. I’ve already seen her. Now put this on and we need to go downstairs, there’s something going on.”

You put on the dress and Tibb arranges your hair as she always does on special occasions. It’s strange to see yourself dressed up for a simple family meeting. You head downstairs with her and see you aunt and uncle in the sitting room with your own parents.

Leo and Evangeline rise to hug you; Evangeline kissing you on both cheeks, exclaiming on your beauty. You smile and exchange pleasantries before you’re led to sit amongst the adults and Tibb sits next to you.

Your father and mother are smiling more than you’ve seen them smile in a long time. You are dazzled by the way they seem years younger to you at this moment.

Your uncle begins to speak directly to you. “(Y/N), you’re aunt and I have come to congratulate you on coming of age.”

You incline your head slightly and thank them.

“Also,” you aunt continues in an excited, almost impatient air. “We’ve come to tell you that you will be attending court.”

“P-pardon?” you ask. Your heart skips a beat. You knew that there was no way for you to attend court given your family’s financial situation. The image of beautiful gowns and laughter and romance passes through your mind like a scene from a play. You look to your mother and father, both flushed with happiness.

“You will attend court with your aunt and me for you to find a marriage mate.” You uncle says. “The king himself has rewarded me a suite of rooms to stay in at the palace. And I have his permission to bring to you with me.”

Your mother speaks up. “Oh (Y/N), think of how much this can do for our family! If you were to find a nice nobleman to marry, your sisters and even brothers will benefit.”

Nodding slowly, you think about all that this does hold for you and your family. But the idea of finding romance is even more invigorating.

You turn back to your aunt and uncle and feel your eyes water as you thank them.

“I can only afford one seasons worth of gowns, though. You will have to find a spouse this year, or you won’t be able to come back,” Leo says. “Tibb will be joining us as well; she'll be a companion for you.”

It seems like forever before you have your bags packed and you’re leaving your childhood home for what could possibly be the last time.

Chapter Text

The trip to His Majesty's palace takes a few short days. You spend half of the trip speaking with Tibb about the adventure to come and the other half in restless sleep. Your uncle had split up with the group to answer a summons from the king; he would be faster on horseback. Evangeline now sat across from you, occasionally humming and napping herself.

When you arrive at the palace, you find yourself stunned at the enormity and grandeur of it all. The entrance is a tall stone gate. On either side of the entrance sits stone statues of lions.

Tibb nudges you unnecessarily when you drive through the gate. You let out an audible gasp at the beauty that assaults you. The palace has many buildings, all tall and magnificent, to make it up. A golden glow seems to come off of its yellow stone. The fall leaves, in varying vibrant colors, makes the view all the more exquisite.

Your aunt points to what seems to be the main building. "That is where we will be staying for the next four months," she says.

You think that you will be headed there first but, instead, the carriage veers to the left.

You send a questioning look to your aunt.

"You will need to be fitted for your gowns," she explains.

When the carriage stops in front of a low standing and unassuming building, you all step out.

Stretching your arms over your head, you follow the lead of your aunt into the small building. Tibb is practically bouncing along on your side as you go.

You meet the tailor and the seamstress and a jewelry maker. All of them assault you with suggestions as they swarm around you. You feel as someone lifts your arm to the side and another hand lifts your chin.

"Such a quiet beauty. Modesty would be best."

"No no, she's stunning. Bright colors and dramatic angles."

"Her innocence should be the focal point here."

You're led into three different rooms, where no one asks you for any input about what you would like for your wardrobe. By the end of it all, you find yourself more exhausted about it than a day in the fields.

You step back into the carriage and your aunt offers you a small drink from her purse, saying it will pick you up.

You accept it and take a gulp from the bottle, finding the bitterness and burn of it surprising.

Sputtering, you hand it back with a thanks.

Before long, the carriage stops again. Stepping out, you find yourself standing in front of a grand estate.

"His Majesty's not usually here at this time," your aunt informs. "But our rooms are not far from his own suites." She has an air of superiority in her voice.

Walking up the stone steps, you find that there are a few servants waiting for you at the top.

"(Y/N)." Your aunt pulls your attention again. "These are our personal servants for the duration of our stay."

A young woman, almost your age it seems, steps forward and curtsies deeply. "My name is Taryn, miss. I will be a personal maid to you and your sister."

You nod your head in greeting and smile. "Very nice to meet you, Taryn."

Tibb introduces herself and exclaims that she’s exhausted. Taryn offers to take you two to your rooms to rest. You decline the offer.

“Is it possible that I can take a bath instead?” you ask.

“Yes, of course, miss.” Taryn is about to lead you and Tibb away when anther servant appears from inside the building.

Your aunt leaves with them. Apparently your uncle Leo has news and wants to see her.

“I’ll show you to your rooms, miss (Y/N) and little miss Tibb.” Taryn leads you both into the grand hallway.

The entrance is beautiful. The idea that this is where you’ll be staying for a whole four months finally sinks in and you feel giddy with excitement.

Taryn leads Tibb and yourself over marble floors and past golden statues. There are fabrics hanging from the high ceilings over the tall windows that sweep to the ground dramatically. The tapping of your shoes fill the hall in a symphony of sound and the music seems to be the loveliest you’ve ever hear.

Tibb is dropped off at her room first, and before long you are lead to your own room by Taryn. She leaves you once you reach the door, telling you she'll be back to fetch you after your bath is drawn.

You turn to finally look at your room- three times larger than the room you share with Tibb at home. There is a large bed with a golden canopy hanging over the four tall posts of its headboard and foot board. The golden hue is almost enough to hurt your eyes, but the room has been decorated tastefully. A large fireplace sits on the opposite side and a chaise is directly in front of it. Looking at the windows, you can see the same kind of lush curtains from the hallway are covering them.

Taryn returns about an hour later. You’re lounging on the chaise enjoying the splendor and don’t notice her knock or come in until she’s right beside you.

“Goodness!” you exclaim. “You scared me, Taryn.”

“Forgive me,” she says quickly. “I kept calling your name. I thought you were asleep.”

You sit up. “No, it’s not your fault. I was daydreaming.”

Taryn smiles at this. “When I first came to the palace, I was just nine. I’d thought I died and this was heaven.” She’s looking around your room in reverie. When her eyes find yours again, they crinkle in a smile. “You’re bath is drawn now, miss (Y/N).”

The baths are just as exquisite as you expected them to be. The porcelain tubs are as large as some of the small ponds you used to swim in when you were younger. Paintings of mermaids and goddesses litter the walls in the room and the fragrance is almost overwhelming.

Leaving the room, you feel as though your skin glows like the golden palace walls drenched in sunlight.

You’ve changed into a lilac dress. One of the few nice dresses you’ll have before your new gowns are made. Taryn is no where to be found when you leave the steaming room, though, and you start to wander instead of waiting for her to lead you back to your own room.

A large door at the end of a hallway catches your attention. It almost seems out of place with it’s plain dark wood against the cream and gold decor surrounding it.

You approach it in a sort of trance. When you put your hand to the handle, it’s unlocked and you open the door to be greeted with sunlight.

Once your eyes adjust, you find that you’ve stumbled upon a large courtyard garden. It’s beauty is different from the rest of the rooms you’ve encountered. The autumnal flowers have a raw beauty; fragile and temporary.

Here are purples and oranges and reds and greens. And, while the castle was a delight to see, this is ethereal and takes your breath away.

You walk further into the large open space. The stone fountains here are not flowing and sit stagnant and frozen in time. With each step you take you feel your heart grow lighter and lighter.

There’s a bench hidden amongst a flowery bush, and you decide to sit here. When birdsong reaches your ears, you close your eyes. This almost reminds you of home.

“Now here’s a flower I’ve never seen.” A voice pulls you out of your daze violently.

You snap your eyes open and stand up suddenly. Apologies spill out from your mouth. “So very sorry. I shouldn’t have wandered here.”

A tall man stands before you. Lifting your gaze, you can see that he’s handsome and most likely of higher birth than you, judging by his clothes. He’s smiling at you, obviously amused at your small panic. “I’m afraid it is I who should apologize. I shouldn’t have disturbed whatever lovely dream you were having.” His voice is deep and smooth.

“You wouldn’t be the first to startle me today, sir,” you say, thinking about Taryn. You look around yourself to find the exit or the way you came, but no path seems familiar and you can’t see any doors or gates over the tall shrubs. “But I should get going.” You incline you head slightly, then glance around again.

“If I may, I could lead you back to the door,” the man suggests. “I’ve been here too long myself, and must go.”
You agree to this, following him. “May I ask your name, sir?” you ask.

“Thomas.” This is all he says. Usually gentlemen give their titles in addition to their names. But at this moment it doesn’t matter.

“Hello Thomas, my name is (Y/N).” You say little more than him. It’s very informal amongst royals like yourself and whomever this Thomas man must be. Even in your own modest home, your parents taught you as much.

He turns and nods his head slightly. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” Reaching out a hand, he smiles.

You feel your face burn as you reach your own hand out and place it in his.

When he lifts your hand to his lips, your knees suddenly go weak and you don’t understand the feeling that the gesture gives you. Drawing your hand back slowly, you lower your eyes. “A pleasure,” is all your small voice is able to say.

Chapter Text

The walk back is somewhat awkward - surely not to Thomas; he is charming and asks you questions about your family and how you like the stay so far in the palace. You tell him about the king awarding you uncle with a suite of rooms for a successful campaign in a neighboring country. With each word this Thomas speaks, you feel an unexpressed yearning to hear him continue talking. You find your eyes gazing toward him longer than what can be deemed appropriate at times and have to chastise yourself.

“And are you enjoying your time here?” he asks.

“Well... I do find it all very interesting - though the eminence of it all makes me feel quite... small.” Stumbling over your own words in your answer, you feel the blood boiling in your face and at the tips of your ears. You continue regardless. “To be honest, the first time I felt comfortable was coming here - to this garden. It reminds me of my home”

You continue talking to him and find yourself growing comfortable around him.

Thomas stops walking abruptly when you laugh at something he says.

You notice and slow your steps to stop a few feet in front of him. When you look forward, the door that leads inside is just ahead. “Is something wrong?” You turn around.

His eyes find yours and you find yourself staring back into piercing blue.

“This may seem very forward,” he begins. Steeping toward you, he stops by a patch of hyacinths. Bending low, he plucks a blue one from the ground. “But I wish to meet you again, (Y/N).” He stops walking right in front of you and you feel the light petals in your palm before you even know they’re being placed there.

“Sir?” You freeze in shock. “You wish to see me again?”

“Yes.” He’s smiling. This time, though, it’s an unsure and questioning smile. “If that would be alright with you?”

You can’t stop the smile that breaks on your face as you nod. “I would like that very much.”

You both agree to meet in the garden a week from now at the same time. When you go back inside, he kisses your hand once more and you part ways.

It takes a little while for you to find the room where you took your bath. Once there, you try to find the path that leads to your room, but there are so many twists and turns in this building, it’s hard work.

Relief fills you when you hear Taryn calling after you. “Miss (Y/N), I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I lost my way after my bath. I couldn’t find you.”

“I was called by your sister,” she says.

It doesn’t surprise you that Tibb’s awake after such a short nap; in fact, she might not have been able to rest much if her room were anything like yours. “Oh? Where is she now?”

“She’s in your room. I can lead you back, if I might?”

When you get back to your room, you discover Tibb there waiting for you on the chaise in front of the fireplace. Taryn leaves you two and you both end up talking about the palace and how much different it is from home. You tell Tibb about the garden you found, and the man you met there.

“And he wants to see you again?” Her eyes are wide. “Are you sure?”

“If my still racing heart is anything to go by, then yes.” You place your hand over your chest. “But it was so informal. I didn’t even think I’d make the acquaintance of a man until at least the first feast- and he’s so handsome and his voice sounds like chocolate.”

Tibb is giggling. “Seems that court will be quite easy for you if the first man you meet is so attentive.”

You can’t help throwing a pillow at her face, laughing yourself. “Oh please.”

Tibb stays in your room the whole night. You’d predicted that she’d want to sleep in the same room as you.

In the morning, Evangeline and Leo call you both to breakfast by means of Taryn. You tell your aunt and uncle nothing of your meeting with the handsome stranger yesterday and, thankfully, Tibb doesn’t either.

You’re halfway through your meal when a servant comes into the room with a note for your uncle. He reads it and a smile fits on his face. “Ah, we’ve been invited to dine with the king this evening. Oh! and (Y/N), too!”

You look up at your uncle. “Really?”

Your aunt is spreading a sweet jam onto her bread. “Don’t worry dear, you can borrow a gown from me for the evening.” Your aunt has the same height and body type as you, so the gown should fit well even it might be a bit old fashioned.

“Thank you, aunt Evangeline,” you say.

You spend most of the day reading, and evening comes before you realize it. Your aunt summons you to her room to pick out a gown.

She has such a wide selection for you to choose from, you’re surprised. In the end, you pick out one that’s your favorite color and somewhat modern. Though it’s heavy, you find it less constricting than first imagined.

Walking down the hallway with your aunt and uncle, you’re all led into a large banquet room. The table might be able to sit fifty guests, but about a dozen are sitting at the table right now.

Leo, Evangeline, and yourself all sit relatively close to the head of the table and a few footmen hold the chairs out for you all to sit in.

The settling for the table is quite extravagant. There are many utensils and glasses in front of you, silver and gold and porcelain. At least a hundred candles are lit about the room in addition to the chandeliers. And even the way the napkins are folded are exquisite. ‘Fit for a king,’ you think to yourself.

When everyone around you suddenly stands, you hurry to stand with them as the king’s appearance is announced.

You turn to see him, and find yourself shocked to see Thomas walk in. His gait is so long and sure, and his head held high. His clothes are even more refined. There are medals and cords hanging from his coat, but seem weightless given his posture.

He goes to a sit in a seat just a few down from yours at the head of the table. Once he sits, the rest of you do.

Taking a deep breath, you look up to find him looking straight at you.

Chapter Text

King Thomas, the man you’d (briefly) thought about flirting with in the secret gardens of the palace, is looking directly at you. Your heart flutters and you hurriedly look down at the empty plate before you.

You hear his voice in your ears, “Leo and Evangeline,” he addresses your uncle and aunt. “I’m pleased you could make it.” He doesn’t speak to you. The fact is, it was inappropriate for the two of you to have met as you did. A third party, someone like Evangeline or your uncle Leo should have introduced you to Thomas.

Looking around at the guests at the table, the atmosphere seems comfortable. They might not have even been dining with the king, with the laughter filling the air. Several servants bring in the large plates of food and sit them before everyone seated. At the head of the table, Thomas is speaking with your uncle and someone who appears to be a General sat on the other side of him, you’re reminded of the war, looking at the old General chortling.

A large bowl of soup is sat before you. During the course, you remember all of the manners you have to show at such a gathering. If this were home, you could just pick up any old spoon and dig in. You take a while to find the correct utensils, but it comes surprisingly natural to follow etiquette. ‘Shoulders back, chin up, don’t lean, elbows off the table, don’t reach.’

Once the first course is done, the second course is sat in front of everyone. This time, dishes with goose, pork, and leafy greens are sat before the dinner guests.

You eat only a bit from this plate. The soup filled you up for the most part, and you’re too distracted by Thomas, anyway. He’s not necessarily staring at you, but you feel his eyes on you more than once. At this point you are able to focus on conversations around you instead of your own actions. When Leo says, “We’d be honored, your Majesty,” you look around to your uncle.

Evangeline informs you that you all have been invited to have tea with the king after dinner. Looking over to Thomas, you see he’s still in conversation with Leo.

Dinner lasts for a bit longer, with two more courses for the guests. It seems that the only people staying for after dinner tea are your aunt, uncle, the old General, and yourself.

When you all get up to walk to the the parlor, your aunt entwines her arm with yours. You are both fall a bit behind the gentlemen leading the group, and out of earshot.

“Now, (Y/N),” she begins in a low whisper, “Your uncle will introduce you to his Majesty and then you may greet him. Do not speak to him unless spoken to, and try to keep any opinions to yourself. Do you understand, my dear?”

“Yes, Aunt Evangeline.”

Once in the parlor, your uncle turns to you from in front of Thomas. “(Y/N), please come here.”

You step away from your aunt and slowly make your way over to Leo and Thomas. Looking up from the floor, you see that the expression on Thomas’ face is amiable.

“Your Majesty, may I present to you my niece, Miss (Y/N).”

You curtsy deeply before Thomas and stand. The fabric of your dress that seemed so comfortable before suddenly feels tight as you try to control your breathing.

“Tell me, (Y/N), do you enjoy the theater?”

The question takes you off guard. You look to your uncle, but he seems just as bewildered as you. “The theater, your Majesty?”

“Yes. You see, We’re holding a masque in a fortnight here in the palace.”

You think back to the small plays you used to put on with your siblings for your parents’ enjoyment. The thought makes you smile. “I do enjoy the theater.”

“Excellent!” The smile on Thomas’ face is infectious. “We’ll have our lead, then.”

The smile on your face falls and you look to your uncle in slight panic and back to Thomas. “Pardon, your Majesty?”

“We’ve been trying to find a suitable actress to play the leading role of our little masque. I believe you’ll be perfect for it.”

You try to fight this, but your aunt shuts you down quickly and graciously thanks the king. “Your Majesty, (Y/N) would be honored.”

About an hour into the evening, you’re in a corner playing chess on a rich wooden table with marble pieces. You’d found out that the General’s surname is Breckenridge. Your aunt and uncle have been listening to a few of his stories for the better part of the evening. And while you were all invited for tea, all three in the group have indulged in a bit of alcohol. Breckenridge’s voice slurs a bit with every word, and your aunt can’t seem to keep her hiccuping laughter quiet.

You’re giggling to yourself, when you notice the presence next to you. Looking up, you see that it is Thomas.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks.

“By all means, your Majesty.” You gesture to the chair opposite yours.

“Please,” he says, taking a seat. “You may call me Thomas here.” He looks back at the laughing group near the fireplace. “Even your uncle does, on occasion,” he adds, turning back to you.

“I don’t believe that’s possible, your Majesty.” You avert your eyes. Embarrassment bubbles inside of you at the fact that you flirted with the king; allowed yourself to believe that you had a chance with him. Thomas probably thinks you the most shameless and senseless person to ever walk the halls of the Palace.

“I must have really surprised you,” he says. His voice is laced with concern. “Allow me to apologize for my misrepresentation. I meet so many people, and despite all that, I generally am not allowed to be myself. And with you, (Y/N), I was just another man.”

“And I any other woman?” Your eyes find his. “An inconsiderable thing to toy with?” You can’t help the soreness in your voice.

He looks taken aback at this. “Not in the slightest. I assumed my intentions were clear.”

You are quiet at this; not expecting the sincerity. It is an impossibility to pursue courtship with the king, but the thought isn’t unpleasant. “I don’t think you know how different we are, your Majesty.”

“Thomas,” he corrects you. “ And I believe I would like to find that out for myself, (Y/N). You told me that my garden reminds you of home. In a way, it’s the same for me.”

The evening doesn’t last for long. You play a few games of chess against the king; winning once and losing twice. You make conversation about yourself mostly, and he listens this time. You speak about your home, your brothers and sisters, and your parents. Your opinions about the war and how it has affected your family are kept to yourself. When you part ways with a sleepy Evangeline and Leo, you subtly remind him of your meeting next week in the garden.

Tibb is in your room again. She fires off questions before you can even get the door closed behind you. “What’s the king like? Taryn told me that he’s so handsome. She was just here. Did you get to meet him? Was the dinner delicious?”

You understand Tibb’s excitement at the evening, since she has yet to be introduced into society and won’t be for a few years, she is not allowed to such gatherings. You explain the entire evening to her, despite being completely drained. Half of the story you tell her while getting ready for bed.

She’s flabbergasted. “Thomas is the king?!” she exclaims.

“Tibb lower your voice!” you whisper back. “And, yes. I was so shocked I wanted to hide.”

Pacing the chaise that you’ve settled into, she makes wide gestures and noises of excitement. “And you will be the lead actress at the next masque?”

“I’m no actress,” you say. “At least not a very good one.”

“Don’t be modest.” She scoffs. “You love to put on plays at home.”

“But this will be different. There will be at least a hundred people in the audience, not just mom and dad and our neighbors.”

“I’ll help you to get ready. Oh, (Y/N)! You could very well end up marrying a king!”

Six days later, the first batch of dresses are delivered to your rooms. Taryn helps you put one on as your aunt and Tibb watch.

“Does it have to be so tight?” you ask. the corset around your torso has a vice grip.

“Nonsense, child.” Evangeline circles you. “Gorgeous. You’ll have no trouble finding a husband with your looks. And remember, you are not allowed to wear your own clothes now. Heaven knows how your mother let you all dress in such rags.”

You bite your tongue and keep your mouth shut at your aunt’s remark. There isn’t much you can do about her rudeness given the fact that the only reason you’re here now is because of her generosity.

Looking over to Tibb, you see her face turn sour as she looks down at her own clothes. “Don’t worry, Tibb,” you say with a small smile. “You’ll be next.”

“Not if you don’t find a husband, she wont.” Evangeline is on a role, her sandpaper personality rubbing at you. You fidget while Taryn works with various ribbons and buckles into you feel like you’re wearing battle armor.

She’s done soon, and you see her wipe her brow out the corner of your eye. “There,” she says. “Young miss, you look lovely.”

Evangeline claps her hands together and smiles at you. “Like an entirely different person.”

You turn to finally look in the mirror. The gown is a dark red, wider in the skirt and heavier than the dresses you usually wore. It’s simple and elegant at once. Your waist has been made several inches smaller by the corset constricting you. The effect of the change in your appearance might be a bit more overwhelming if you could just breathe more easily.

“Oh! it’s noon,” Evangeline says. “I have to go meet with a few acquaintances.” In a bustle she leaves the room.

You jump at the mention of the time. You were to meet Thomas in the garden today, but the arrival of your gowns had you distracted from it.

“Taryn, would you please take me to the baths?”

“Miss, you just got into your dress!” She seems almost astounded at the suggestion.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, already walking towards the doors of your room. “Just lead me there, please.”
You tell Tibb that you’ll see her later, and she smiles knowingly. Taryn leads you to the baths and you tell her to go on back and meet you here in two hours.

The befuddled expression on her face is almost comical. She walks away silently, and you know you must seem suspicious.

You wait until she’s out of site and head in the direction of the garden. The dress still bothers you, and you have to take shallow breaths as you walk. Finding the large wooden door before long, you push the it open and walk out and into the courtyard.

The flowers are still very beautiful, and you find yourself staring at them as you search for Thomas. You eventually find him sitting in a bench and reading a small book. His concentration makes you stay silent as you approach. His clothes are similar to the ones he wore when you first met.

When he looks up, his face lightens and he sets his book down beside him. “I was starting to believe that you wouldn’t come.” He stands up and you curtsy.

“(Y/N), I told you, no formalities between us.” As he walks up to you, you feel your breath catch. He stands so close, it feels as though there is no space between the two of you. When you feel his arm at your waist, your heart does a somersault in your chest.

You’re pulled into a hug. You feel as his other arm envelopes you and your nose is suddenly at his neck. He smells so good, you nearly melt. The slight stubble on his chin tickles your ear, and the sensations are almost too much.

When he pulls away, you know that your face must show your fretfulness. You’re about to chastise him for surprising you so suddenly, when you feel your head go blank. Your knees buckle and, you would’ve hit the ground had Thomas not been there to catch you.

Despite the concern on his face, when you recover a moment later, you laugh softly. “I knew this... corset was... too tight.” You can’t get the sentence out without pausing for breath.

“This is no good.” He holds you up at his side. “Can you walk?” he asks.

“Yes... yes, I’m fine.” you try to stand, but you get dizzy again.

Without further ado, Thomas picks you up in his arms. He’s surprisingly strong, and swiftly takes you to the entrance of the garden.

You try and protest this. “What if someone sees us?” you ask. “Thomas, please, let me at least walk.” You’re already inside and near the baths you usually go to.

He sits you down however hesitantly, and as you stand, he takes your hand instead. “You need to get out of that corset.”

You notice Taryn before she sees you. She’s carrying a few folded towels. When she looks up to see you with the king, her eyes go wide.

You aren’t even able to speak as you’re pulled into a nearby room by Thomas.

Chapter Text

You are only able to process that you are in a study of sorts. The air is becoming thicker as you struggle to breathe.

You vaguely hear an apology from Thomas. There’s no time to think what for when you feel his hands at your back. He’s making quick work of your dress buckles.

You nearly scream in slight panic. You jump away from him and, finding a small chair, put it between the two of you. “Thomas, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” is the last thing you are able to say before the world goes black.

When you open your eyes, you’re staring up into Thomas’ own blue. Blinking a few times, you raise your hand to your head. “What happened?”

“You fainted, darling. I apologize for my impropriety, but if we’d waited another moment, you might have died.”

You feel hot, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the fainting, Thomas’ proximity, or his calling you 'darling'. In any case, you know better than to sit up for a few minutes. You realize that you’re on a much softer surface than the floor; perhaps a bed.

“Miss (Y/N)?”

It’s Taryn’s voice.

You start to sit up but two pairs of hands push you back down.

Taryn’s voice is in your ear again. “Please lie down, miss.”

You don’t have to be told twice since your head swims again. You look up into her face and see the worry. “Taryn? How did you...?” You trail off. The fatigue is not wearing off.

“His Majesty called upon me since I was the closest servant.” Tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, miss (Y/N)! I’m terribly sorry. This is entirely my fault! I-I shouldn’t have done the corset so tight...”

“Taryn,” you cut her off. “Taryn, my aunt ordered you to do so.” A small smile forms on your face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You see Tayrn smile down at you hesitantly and then glance across you to Thomas. Her tear-stained face suddenly goes pink as she looks away. “I should... I should fetch more water.” She quickly stands to grab the pitcher on a near-by table and makes for the door, almost tripping on the way.

You turn back to Thomas and see his slightly bemused expression must mirror your own as he looks after the retreating maid. You laugh softly. Taryn must have a small crush on the monarch.

The laughter catches Thomas’ attention and he looks back down at you. He’s sitting on the empty side of the bed; his warm hand holding your own.

“You know,” he says leaning down over you, “You were unconscious for so long, I thought I might have to kiss you to break a spell.”

“Your Majesty,” you chastise him for teasing you.

“Thomas,” he corrects. He’s mere inches away from you at this point.

You close your eyes. His warm breathing fills your ears and you find it hard to breathe yourself. When you feel the pressure of his lips upon your forehead, you are surprised. You open your eyes as he pulls away from you.

“Thomas,” you say, “you must find pleasure in teasing me."

"Oh darling, you have no idea."

His words only serve to make you more flustered. You think about what Taryn must think of the whole ordeal. She'd obviously seen you being pulled by the hand by the king himself into this suite.

As if reading your thoughts Thomas mentions Taryn. "That maid said that she is your personal servant for your stay. She's as worried about your well-being as I am."

Taryn certainly has been kind to you thus far. You've seen no ill-manner in her and you tell Thomas as much.

He chuckles softly at this. "You will be happy to hear that she is the one that freed you from your corset. She went so far as to demand me to turn my back."

You think of the fact that Taryn ordered the king himself for your sake. Had Thomas not been the good-natured and kind man you knew him to be, you would certainly be worried for her life at such impertinence.

At the moment, you are lying in a grand bed, bigger than even the one in your suite of rooms. The canopy towering over the bed serves as a curtain and is drawn back by thick golden ropes. The room itself is bright and large.

The door reopens and Taryn comes in and bows. She’s holding a pitcher of water and some towels. Coming to your side, she pours a glass of water and hands it to you. “Drink up, miss,” she says.

Taking the water from her, you move to sit up slightly.

Thomas puts his arm behind you to help you get up slowly, propping up the pillows behind you.

Taryn looks on, a slight blush on her face, most likely matching your own.

You thank Thomas and sip the water Taryn has given you. “I’m terribly sorry for causing so much trouble,” you say, handing the water back to Taryn.

“Not at all, miss (Y/N),” Taryn shakes her head, taking the glass from you. “I was just so worried.”

You smile at her. “Could we possibly go back to my own room?” you ask. “I feel much better now,” you insisted.

Taryn looked from you to Thomas. “Are you sure, miss?”

Thomas speaks up. “(Y/N) you’re welcome to stay here. We wouldn’t want to move you too soon.”

“No, really,” you say. “You must have other things to do, Thomas- Your Majesty,” you correct yourself, looking at Taryn. She seems slightly shocked at your address of him, but mostly looks worried.

“Nothing too important,” he says. “You were the only one I was looking forward to seeing today. All other matters can wait until I’m sure that you’re feeling well.”

You sigh softly. “Very well,” you say, “But, may I see my sister? She may be worried about me.”

Taryn offers to go and get Tibb before she glances once more at Thomas.

The king and you sit in comfortable silence, with the only small conversation from Thomas’ part. Before much time has passed, the door opens, and Tibb runs in. There are tears in her eyes as she calls out your name. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Taryn told me that you’d fainted. I knew that Evangeline had that corset too tight. Oh, (Y/N) you could have very well died!”

You shush her and she takes your hand, wiping her tears away with a small handkerchief from the folds of her dress.

When she finally calms herself, she looks up to see Thomas and frowns slightly. “Are you…?” she left the question open-ended.

“King Thomas the II,” he said gently. “But you must be Tibb.”

She nodded in a daze before she curtsied almost automatically. “Your majesty,” she said, looking down. “Thank you for looking over my sister.”

He smiled at her. “I did what I knew was right. I do not wish for harm to befall your sister.” He looked at you with his eyes holding something akin to tenderness.

You looked away from him and to Tibb before you could blush. “My sister will be able to look after me for the time being, your majesty. I thank you for your attention, but I must insist on being sent back to my own room.

He nodded and stood from his spot next to you. “Very well, (Y/N).” He looked to Tibb and Taryn. “Would you allow us a moment alone for a moment,” he asked.

You sister and Taryn did not have to be told a second time before they were out of the chamber again.

You looked to Thomas expectantly. “Did you wish to say something, your majesty?” you asked curiously as you sat up.

He took you hand in his own. “I wished to stay a bit longer here with you,” he began.

“Pardon, your majesty?”

“I will not be able to meet you again for three months. I will be visiting another province,” he says.

“Three months?” you ask, unbelieving.

“I will return. But I must leave tomorrow,” he said softly.

You know nothing you said could keep him here. You felt that there was so much that the both of you still had to learn about each other. You’d allowed yourself to believe that this may have been the blooming of a courtship.

Looking down to your lap, you process this. He would be back in three months; that was almost a guarantee. However, not seeing you for those three months might make him think of you less and less; until you were just some fragment of memory to him – fleeting and unimportant.

As you bring your eyes back up to his own, you nod your head evenly. Smiling, you say, “I will meet you again then.”

He gives you a sad smile. “Of course, darling.”

Thomas leaves before you. When he is gone, Tibb comes inside with Taryn and they assist you to your chambers.

You ask them for solitude that evening; that you were feeling much better and just needed the rest.

That night, you find yourself crying into your pillow for a man that you barely knew.

Chapter Text

The morning brings a bright stream of sunlight through your window. You sit up and move on the edge of your bed, your gaze downcast.

Taryn opens the door to your chambers. She walks forward with a smile. “You're awake.” You can hear her quick steps against the cold marble of the floor.

Upon seeing your countenance, she slows to a stop. “Is everything okay, miss?”

You look up at her and nod your head. “I'm fine. Does my aunt call for me?" you ask.

“Yes miss. She wishes for you to see her as soon as possible.” Taryn seems wary as she says this. "I am to have you ready before breakfast.”

You stand up and Taryn gets you into one of your new dresses. It’s blue with a bodice that feels much better than your restricting corset from the day before.

You look at Taryn in the mirror as she arranges your hair. “Did my aunt tell you why she wished to see me so urgently?” you ask.

Taryn hesitates for a moment. She looks at you with an apologetic expression. “We have a guest for breakfast.”

“Oh?" you ask, curious now about your aunt's plans. “Do I know this guest?”

“No, miss,” she admitted. “In fact, this is my first time seeing her. Though, I had heard a bit of their conversation.”

“I'm going to venture a guess and say it was regarding me?” you say.

“Yes miss. The woman seems to be a matchmaker of sorts. I'm sure your aunt sought her to ensure you find a respectable husband.”

Frowning, you pick up the now dried hyacinth on your table. Thomas was so amiable and attentive towards you. However, you’d actually allowed yourself to stop and think about this. You were left behind with the fact that his status in this world was so decidedly different from your own.

You put the blue flower back down when Taryn is done with your hair and stand with her. “Very well.”

The both of you make your way to your aunt Evangeline's chambers. Taryn opens the heavy doors and you walk in to find her sitting in her parlor with an older woman in fine clothes.

Smiling, Evangeline calls you over. “This is my niece, (Y/N). She is the daughter of the Baron (Your Father’s Name) of Kentwood in the province of Milton.

She then introduced the woman next to her as Dame Judith Dench.

You curtsy and smile softly. “A pleasure, ma'am.”

“Take a seat, dear.” Aunt Evangeline gestures to the seat next to her.

Complying as you sit on the couch, you look back at Dame Judith.

She's regarding you with intense appraisal. You feel yourself wanting to cower under her gaze, but you hold eye contact evenly. Her steely eyes look over you with thinly veiled arrogance. You can see that in her prime she must have been a beautiful woman. Her head is held high and she seems to have the idea that she knows more than most people.

She gives a small smirk and turns to Evangeline. “I do believe I can find a respectable young gentleman for your niece. Though, she has a long way to go in terms of being a suitable bride.”

Evangeline agrees. “Her father was never very attentive to her upbringing. You wouldn't know he was the son of a baron with the way he keeps house.”

You curl your hands into fists in your skirts, but remain quiet otherwise. Steadily breathing, you turn your eyes to Taryn, who stills stands near the entrance of the room.

She's frowning and watching the exchange with an expression of disapproval. Though, she is able to conceal it enough as to not offend.

You smile at her, thankful for her indignation on your behalf.

Dame Judith and Evangeline finish their conversation without including you. It is decided that you will be presented to court before the week is out and Dame Judith would find a suitor soon after.

As you part from the room to head to breakfast, Taryn trails you from a short distance.

She's silent, but you can sense that there's much on her mind.

There is a short hallway to the side of your path and you make the turn instead of heading to your uncle and aunt's private dining hall.

As you turn to Taryn, you can see a hint surprise on her face.

“I do believe that you know what I wish to speak about,” you begin in a small whisper.

Confused for a second, she looks down before. As she understands what you are speaking about, she brings her head back up and looks at you. “His majesty,” she says, even softer than you.

You nod and look past her for a moment to make sure there is not a soul near you to eavesdrop.

Looking back to Taryn, you say, “His majesty will be away for three months. He told me as much yesterday."

“He left just this morning, miss,” she says. Hesitant about her next words, she speaks softer still. “I do not wish to seem untoward, my lady. There is something between you and His Majesty?”

You feel your cheeks heat up and look down as you nod your head. “As far as I can tell. And I'm still afraid that this is all a part of my imagination.”

“There is no need to worry, miss. I could tell myself that King Thomas was sincere in his affection toward you.”

Your heart lightens at this. “I'm happy to have someone like you on my side, Taryn. Thank you.”

“It is entirely my honor, miss.”

…

It is three days later that you being prepared for court.

There are more people in your chambers than you feel comfortable with. There are several women fussing over you as they strip you down and put you together again.

You're back into a corset. But Taryn makes certain to not restrict you too much. The skirts you wear are heavy and held up by a cage crinoline to help with the weight of the dress.

When you are in your makeup and jewelry, you are able to step away from the group to your window.

The sun is setting in the distance. It's dim orange glow makes you feel a little bit lighter.

You breathe in and turn around to face the night ahead.

As you make your way to the carriage, there are Leo and Evangeline on either side of you.

The carriage ride is uneventful and you soon make it to a large building near the palace; where the private ball is held for the royal families privileged enough to attend court this season.

Since this is your first official presentation into society, you understand the immense importance of the night. Here is where you make your first impression on the world.

You walk through the doors that two doormen hold open for you and look down into the large dance floor and gasp.

The glittering ballgowns are magical in their flowing beauty. The women in them are even more enchanting. As they move with their partners in such graceful steps, it seems as though they are floating through the air.

You are unconsciously drawn toward the laughter and the music and the dazzling splendor of it all.

Evangeline walks beside you, using her feather fan to cool herself off.

You begin to walk toward the dancing when you are stopped by a young man who coughs into his hand before smiling at you. “May I have the honor of the next dance?” he asks.

Smiling politely, you nod at the gentleman. “Certainly, Mr. …” You trail off, allowing him the chance to introduce himself.

He realizes his mistake and bows deeply. After introductions, he guides you to the dance floor and the two of you begin the motions.

The dances and balls are some of the only appropriate ways for people of your status to meet without a third acquaintance.

It's pleasing enough to dance with the gentleman, but you find yourself distracted by thoughts of another man. A man a province away that stays on your mind no matter how you try to distract yourself.

At the end of the song, you thank your partner for the dance when a voice near the two of you cuts in.

“May I request a dance with the young lady?” the deep cool voice says.

You turn your attention to the man and you find your breath stop in your chest.

Piercing blue eyes meet your own before you are able to really process your thoughts.

Breathtaking was an understatement. He seemed to be carved from marble by the gods themselves. A strong jaw and a smile that could make one faint; these were only a small percentage of his overall beauty.

Holding out your hand to the man, you nod silently. Without giving another glance to the gentleman you were dancing with, you follow your new dance partner to the middle of the floor.

He and you fall into step effortlessly. His holds you firmly, but ever so gently. You feel weightless in his arms as you go around and around.

The ballroom seems even more surreal to you. Growing up in your small home with your brothers and sisters and only visiting the village every so often; that was all that you had known before this.

Your partner smiles at you, his eyes meeting your own with a hint of mischief.

The both of you move around the floor and fall into step with the music. You feel like you were somehow made for this one moment.

As the music stops, he releases you and you step away as though you were waking up from a dream.

Bringing your hand up to his lips, he looks up at you from long eyelashes. “You are a lovely dance partner, my lady.”

“Thank you, sir,” you are able to say.

“May I request another dance tonight?”

“Sir, I don't even know your name.”

He comes closer and his lips slightly graze your ear. “That would ruin the fun of it, don't you think.”

You pull back at this and are stunned at his impropriety. You bid him a brisk goodnight before you're retreating back towards your aunt.

Coming to court had meant something new for you. Your family would always be first in your own heart, but these were strangers, in a strange land.

You begin to think that you would never be comfortable here when you glance up and see the man you were dancing with. He has a confident smile on his face as he watches you from across the ballroom.

Chapter Text

You find your aunt in conversation with a small group of older women. You can hear her talking about the King’s gifted suites again as her companions listen. Their eyes are rolling slightly as if they’d heard her talk about it already.

She’s quick to notice your approach, and addresses you. “Why, my darling niece, (Y/N), how are you enjoying the ball?”

Aunt Evangeline is all smiles and pleasantries. You give her a bright smile in return and embrace her. “Oh, it is lovely, aunt Evangeline.”

She bids her group of acquaintances goodbye before leading you away.

“(Y/N), there is someone I would like for you to meet,” Evangeline says as she walks, arm linked with your own. She lowers her voice so only you can hear her. “Mrs. Dench picked him out especially for you; an amiable young man, and quite renowned throughout the country. He would make an excellent suitor.”

You nod slowly, taking it all in. These past few weeks, you had allowed yourself to forget the reason you'd come to the palace in the first place. You breathe deeply, willing yourself to forget the joy of the adventure. Now is the time to focus on your duty.

Eyes looking forward, you hoped to see if you might recognize the man that Evangeline speaks of. You fall into step beside her. When the two of you stop, you know the man smiling politely at Mrs. Dench must be him.

He has a kind face, you first notice. His eyes crinkle slightly as he laughs politely at something Mrs. Dench has said.

She sees your aunt and yourself and turns to give attention to the two of you.

“Ah yes,” she says. “Duke Christopher Evans, I would would like to introduce you to the young lady I've told you about. This is (Y/N) of Kentwood.”

Duke Christopher bows deeply in greeting. “A pleasure,” he says.

You curtsy in response. “Likewise.” You look at him with some curiosity. The warm smile that you'd witnessed before is not to be found. He appears polite but not very interested in you at present.

Dame Judith smiles. “His Grace is staying in the palace as well.”

“His Majesty is so gracious, is he not?” your aunt says, taking out an oversized feather fan and waving it.

“Undoubtedly,” Christopher says simply.

There is a short pause of quiet before the Duke turns to you. “Might I ask for the next dance?” he asks, his hand extending in offer.

“Of course,” is your response. You place your hand in his own, and you are guided towards the dance floor while your aunt and Dame Judith smile on.

“Have you had the pleasure of staying here long?” you ask.

“Just three days,” he answers. “So, no. I have not.”

“Quite so,” you say, looking away towards your aunt and dame Judith. The both of them are smiling in conspiracy.

The dance goes on in near silence. Your ears ring from the lack of conversation.

After a long while you break the quietness. “It is your turn to say something now, Your Grace,” you say with a slight smile.

Christopher seems to be surprised by your address and even shocked by its nature. “Do you talk as a rule when you are dancing?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

A giggle bubbles in your throat but you suppress it. “We are encouraged to get to know each other,” you say, tilting your head towards the two women watching you dance. “My aunt would be disappointed if I didn't put forth some effort.”

“And you always obey your aunt, then? Even when it means your own future?” he asks. Something in his tone makes you feel that he is looking down on you for this observation.

“I will do what I must,” you reply, “For those that I love.” You stop speaking. There’s no way his grace could understand your situation.

The music has ended, and you hear light applause as the other dancers clap for the band playing. Making a curtsy, you turn and walk away from the Duke.

Your aunt and Mrs. Dench smile and ask you about his Grace.

“He danced very well,” is all that you say before excusing yourself.

You walk towards the balcony outside. The night sky twinkling with a thousand lights above you.

The balcony is quieter than the party inside. Your mind is finally able to catch up to all that has happened. You breathe normally for the first time since you've arrived to the ball.

The wind is brisk tonight. You bring your hands up to shield your arms from the cold when you feel the weight of a jacket settling on your shoulders.

You jump slightly and turn to see Duke Christopher looking past you, far into the night sky.

Looking down, you see that he has placed a warm cape around you.

“Thank you,” you mumble, bringing it closer around you.

“You're welcome,” he says. “Though, I would be more careful if I were you. The nights here are exceptionally cold this time of year.”

You can't help but think the night air is not the only frigid thing you've encountered tonight. But you nod as you look back out over the rolling hills.

“I wanted to apologize for my comments earlier,” he says.

You shake your head gently with a smile. “You must know something of duty, Your Grace.”

He's quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “All too well.”

“Then you must know why I am here tonight.”

“I do,” he admits. “You must also know… why I've followed you out here.”

This makes you turn around. You're facing him again and he looks at you evenly. “I will admit I am ignorant of your intentions,” you say softly.

“I wished to invite you on an outing.”

Your brow raising slightly, you give him a bemused expression. “Would it be an invitation from you, or Dame Judith?”

“I admit she will be glad, but this invitation is my own.” He smiles gently; polite and reserved. But his smile towards you seems genuine for the first time tonight.

“Then I am inclined to accept,” you say. “Entirely of my own will.”

…

She’s laying down, asleep when you go to your room that night. You walk up to Tibb and smile at her sleeping form. She is going to be the first of your siblings to benefit from you having a successful marriage. She had always been a fan of romance. And you have to admit that her being here supporting you helped immensely.

You walk over to your bed and grab a blanket from the top. Coming back to your sister, you place the blanket over her carefully and go get ready for sleep yourself. There will be time to talk together in the morning.

You toss and turn in your sleep that night. When Tibb wakes you the next morning, you feel tired and out of sorts.

Her excitement is a stark contrast to your own fatigue, but you humor her. Sitting up in bed you smile at her. “Morning Tibb.”

“Yes yes good morning, dear sister. Tell me what happened last night, please?” She says urgently, as though she's missed a life changing event.

You laugh softly. “I danced, ate, and got to see the stars from the balcony,” you say teasingly. You know she'll want to know about the men you danced with, what they looked like, how they acted, whether they were amiable gentlemen.

“You're so unfair. I'm trapped in our suites until we leave while you get to go meet dashing young men who want to sweep you off your feet.”

You sigh and move over in your bed so that she can sit next to you. When she crawls in, her attention is on you and she places her head in her hands as she waits for you to tell her about your evening.

And so you tell her about the dancing, your three distinct partners and your outing with the Duke, Christopher.

She smiles softly. “I don't think his majesty will like it very much if your attention is elsewhere.” She's quiet as she says this but it makes your ears ring.

“As far as I'm concerned, I am here to help our family, not to go off galavanting with Kings that I'll never be able to marry.” You're smiling but there's pain in your voice and Tibb can most certainly hear it.
“He likes you so much, (Y/N). I wouldn't be surprised if he did want to marry you, regardless of expectations.”

“He’s a king,” you say harshly. “Don’t be daft, Tibb. He does what he needs to and that doesn’t include marrying a low-born daughter of a baron.”

The frown on Tibb’s face is enough for you to wish you can take back the venom in your tone. She wanted to make you feel better, and here you were insulting her and dismissing her.

She gets up from your bed and makes her way to your door. You’re not able to say a word as she slams the door shut behind her and walks away from your rooms.

It’s only at breakfast when you see her next. She’s sitting next to your aunt and moving her food around her plate. When she looks up to see you walk in, she pushes back from the table. Excusing herself, she leaves the room.

It’s not until later that you realize why your words hurt her so much. All this time that aunt Evangeline has downgraded your father and family, Tibb has had to hold her tongue and take the abuse. She didn’t need to be reminded of it from you.

You’re pacing the halls of the palace when a voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

You turn to see the handsome young man you’d danced with approaching you. His stride is sure and there is the same smirk gracing his lips, as though he’s a cat that’s caught his mouse.

You frown at him. “Why are you here?” you ask, taking a couple of steps back.

“That’s no way to greet an old friend,” he says. Closing the distance, he takes your hand in his own and brings it to his lips.

You pull your hand away in a hurry and look around yourselves. The halls are empty besides the two of you and it makes you nervous.

“I have to go, sir,” you say softly.

“I don’t mean to scare you away,” he says. “In my culture, I think this is different.” He makes a point to place you hand in his own and shakes it softly. “I am Sebastian, a baron. I’m not from around here.”

You look down at your hands and back up to his face. “My name is (Y/N), daughter of baron (Your father’s name). Where are you from?” you ask despite yourself. He’s rather curious, and handsome if nothing else.

“Romania,” he says proudly and suddenly you’re wondering what he could be doing here. Your countries are not allies in the war.

“You’re very far from home,” you say tentatively.

He smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, it’s not my home anymore.”

“Oh,” is all you can reply.

“In any case, I’m glad I found you again. I think you can help me,” he looks back to where he came from and links your arm with his own. “Just play along.” Suddenly, he’s walking back to where he came from.

You wonder to yourself what in the world is going on, and are about to pull away from him when you hear several footsteps coming down the hallway.

A group of girls turn the corner and stop in their tracks when they see the two of you. Their dresses are finer than even your new ones and their faces done with makeup. You see them whispering among themselves as they glare at you.

Sebastian smiles and guides you past them, putting his arm around you. “Let’s go, dearest.” One of the girls scoffs at this.

You walk a bit further and out of sight when Sebastian pulls away from you. “Thank you.”

“I don’t understand, sir.” You’re putting even more distance between the two of you. “Why were those girls acting like that?”

“They’ve been following me around since this morning.”

"I'm assuming their stalking you was less than flattering?" You ask sarcastically.

"I'm afraid that I have my eye on but one rose in this garden," he says looking at you meaningfully.

You feel your cheeks heat up at this. "Quite right," you say. "I will have to leave you to it." You smooth out your skirts and turn to go back to a more familiar area.

Feeling a firm grasp on your wrist, you're turned back around with a gentle tug.

"What's the rush, draga mea?" He asks with a wolfish grin. "We have the entire day ahead of us."

"I… I must be going." The gentleman is much too forward. You mother had warned you against such men. They had one thing on their mind. "My aunt will wonder where I have gone."

He releases you, his smile not fading. And he steps forward slowly. "A young girl like yourself?" He asks. "All alone in the palace halls…"

Your heart beating faster, you step back from him further and further until he has you backed into a wall. The middle of your back is pushed forward by the thick molding of the golden walls. He places a hand up and against the wall beside your head and leans closer.

"What kind of trouble could you get into?" He lets the words linger before you.

You frown slightly, anger rising at his boldness. "I am not anyone's plaything." You straighten up and glare at him. "I am a lady. I don't care how many girls clamor over you, Baron Sebastian. I am not one of them."

His eyebrows raise up in slight surprise. His smile widens and he backs away. "You're different." He says with humor in his voice.

"I'm not so different," you say, still feeling angry and very warm. "Not many ladies would appreciate your antics."

He shakes his head and laughs a little. "You're very refreshing." He's a comfortable distance away now and you can breathe again. “I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

This is the last thing he says as he steps away. You bring your hand up to your chest and can feel your heart beating against your ribs. You watch the fox as he saunters away.

…

You tell Tibb nothing of this encounter. And while she forgives you in a few days, unable to shun her sole companion, you and she hardly talk about your romantic life. You’re grateful for her mercy to your harsh words.

You’re lounging in your room with Tibb, braiding her long hair when Taryn comes through the door in a hurry. “Miss!” she says excitedly. She crosses the room to you and pushes an envelope into your hands.

“From his Majesty, miss,” she says hardly above a whisper.

You straighten and Tibb lets out an audible gasp. Before you know it you’re opening the deceptively plain paper and reading the contents.

“Dearest, (Y/N);

“You will no doubt be surprised to receive this letter. But I do hope that you will forgive my boldness and understand my sentiment when I tell you how fervently I miss you.”

The letter went on to explain his work in the far away province. Little information is given of his political duties, but day-to-day tasks are said to be tedious and melancholy.

“You deserve a longer letter than this, but once again duty calls my name and I must answer.”

He signed the letter with a simple -T.

You frown at the short correspondence. While you feel happy about the king not forgetting you in your time apart, you wish you had more to hold on to.

Tibb takes the letter from your hands as you lower it. She reads it aloud and smiles brightly with Taryn. “This means there’s still hope for you!” she exclaims.

Nodding, you walk away and to your vanity on the other side of the room. A dried blue hyacinth sits in a small glass vase.

You can hear Taryn recounting the story of how she’d received the letter and was able to deliver it in secret past the other servants and palace workers.

Picking up the flower from it’s vase, you notice a petal fall to the table.

Chapter Text

Taryn opens the curtains in your bedroom the morning of the next day. She’s already talking to you as you push yourself up in the bed, blinking against the light.

“Taryn,” you say with a yawn. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven, miss.” she stops for just a second before opening your wardrobe in a flourish.

You rub your eyes. “In the morning?” You’re still not awake enough to understand what’s happening.

Taryn pulls out a blush colored dress. Next, she’s pulling your shift and shoes and corset from your drawers. She laughs at your question and comes to the side of your bed.

“You can thank your aunt for the early wake up call, miss.” She pulls back the blanket and you shiver from the sudden chill.

“What’s going on?” You watch as she grabs a towel from the basin on the table next to your bed. She rings it out and hands it to you.

“Rose water is very good for your skin, miss,” she says, not answering your question.

You run the cloth over your face and wipe at your neck. The fragrance is not strong, but it does help to bring you into the present.

You reach out and stop Taryn before she can move away from you. “What does my aunt want this morning?”

She looks at you and her lips form a line. “It’s your date, miss. Your aunt wants you to be ready.”

You stare at her dumbly. “I don’t have a date with anyone today.”

“His Grace, the Duke,” she clarifies.

“We never agreed on a day.” You look around the room, flustered. You’d actually thought you would be able to avoid the affair altogether.

“Your aunt and the Dame Judith have decided for the both of you, miss (Y/N).” She pulls her arm away and grabs your fresh shift. “Now, please get changed, miss. He’ll be here soon.”

You stand and allow Taryn to remove your nightgown. She replaces it with the long sheer shift you will need to wear under your dress.

Your stockings come next with their garters, then your corset and three different petticoats.

You briefly think of arguing against going. Surely, you could at least pretend you’re sick. The Duke was not exactly warm on your first meeting. That paired the thought of spending the day with him makes you want to hide.

You look to Taryn, who pauses in tying your last petticoat and she gives you a piteous look. “I’m sure it will be fine, miss.”

A sigh comes from your lips and you move to your vanity to do your hair next.

Taryn fixes your hair and pins it up, away from your face. You wear a little blush on your cheeks to bring out some color and stand from the table.

The last piece of undergarment is the bumper before you must put on your dress. As Taryn helps you pull on the light pink dress, you look in the mirror. You’re wearing one of the fine dresses made for you on this trip, but how could you stand next to the Duke? You stop yourself at that thought, feeling completely unwilling and unworthy. How could you even imagine standing next to the king when he was here? How sorely you missed him in his time away, even knowing that you could never truly be together.

You walk to your aunt’s parlor with Taryn in tow to find that the Duke Christopher is already there with the two older women.

He’s sitting near Mrs. Dench when he sees you walk in. Giving you that tight-lipped smile, he stands to bow.

You curtsey and give him the best smile you can muster. “Your Grace,” you say in greeting. “So good to see you.”

Your aunt frowns at you. “We’ve been waiting for you, child. Come in.”

Taryn lets you walk over the threshold before beginning to close the doors from the other side.

You look back at her before going to sit next to your aunt.

Christopher sits as well and clears his throat. “You look lovely,” he says.

There’s a feeling that you can’t shake that tells you that he’s simply going through the motions. You smile, regardless. “Thank you, your Grace.”

“You two are going to the park for a little boat trip on the lake. It will allow a little bit of privacy for the two of you.”

You nod even though you know there will be no real privacy on this date. Young unmarried couples don't go anywhere without a chaperone. “That sounds exquisite,” you say.

You’re on the water with the Duke. He’s paddling the oars with slow determination. Dame Judith enjoys herself by sitting along the shore and reading a book.

The lake ripples lightly around the boat. The two of you are moving at a leisurely pace away from the shore and into the wide lake. Christopher is not looking at you for the moment, instead focusing on the task at hand. He's even more withdrawn than the night you two danced.

You’re holding a parasol that matches your dress to shield you from the sun. After a few minutes of silence, you twirl it in your hands for a little entertainment.

You’re in the middle of the lake now and still are sitting in the boat with a perfect stranger.

“Your Grace,” you say, just to break the silence. “I do believe that we’re away from the meddling ear of Mrs. Dench. Surely, you can stop rowing now and have a little chat with me.”

“What made you think I was trying to get away from Mrs. Dench?” he asks. You can’t read his expression. He doesn’t look amused at the moment and you know that it isn’t his fault that you were awoken so early.

“When did they tell you of our date?” you ask, pretending to be interested by something in the water.

“Last night,” he says. He puts the oars down and the boat continues to move in a gentle rock. “I received a note from Mrs. Dench telling me to meet your aunt and herself in Evangeline’s parlor this morning.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “They certainly wish for this to move along,” you say. “We’ve only just met.”

“Feels like only yesterday,” he says with a small smile.

You can’t help but smile back. He’s already such a handsome man. He has blonde hair smoothed back gently. Dark blue eyes under long lashes are crinkled lightly when he smiles like this. His face lights up like the sun. You have the urge to tell him that you would like to see his smile more, but stop yourself.

Looking back to the shore, you can see it has retreated some and Dame Judith is looking up from her book. She looks back down as soon as she sees you notice her.

It’s a beautiful day. The water of the lake ripples in clear ribbons around you and you can even see some creatures swim under you. There are butterflies flying above the lake along with bees and swimming ducks. The only noise to be found is the song of birds and chirping of crickets.

You look back to the Duke to find he’s watching you closely. The heat in your cheeks is sudden and you try to quickly think about something to talk about.

“Can you tell me about your family?” you ask, looking down.

There’s a beat of silence. Looking up, you find the Duke looking away again.

“I have a younger brother,” he says. “Two older sisters, already married.”

“I have several younger brothers and sisters of my own,” you say softly. “It’s because of them that I’m here.”

When he looks back at you, you see his eyes narrow and his jaw set. "You’re here because you don’t wish to think for yourself who you might want to spend the rest of your life with?"

"I don't have very much of a choice."

“So you act as your aunt’s puppet? Picked and plucked and dropped into the lap of whatever man she sees fit?” His words are as cold as when you met him two nights ago.

“I am not a puppet!” you raise your voice and then immediately cover your mouth, lowering your face. You immediately regret raising your voice at a gentleman of higher birth.

For a moment all you can hear is the song of the lake. You’re burning at his words, but you lower your hand into your lap and grab your dress in your fist.

It is enough to know that you are Aunt Evangeline’s doll. It is enough to know that you are no match for the man you’d believe you harbor feelings for. It is enough for you to be pulled awake right after dawn to go on a boat with a man who doesn’t even like you.

But for him to call your actions into question constantly; for him to tell you that you are nothing but your aunt’s puppet is too much.

You glare at him and find him staring at you again.

“Your Grace. Do you know what it’s like to have no agency in your future?” you ask. “Do you know what it’s like to know that whatever choice you make will affect your family?”

“I know all too well,” he says.

“How do you know?” You are accusatory now. “How can you know how it feels? You’re family has status and wealth. My aunt told me as much. You can marry for love if you so chose. Why are you here with me?”

"I have one chance," he says. "One chance to make the right choice. I have to make sure my partner is the right fit for me. I need to make sure our alliance is politically beneficial as well. Your family is not exactly without power, (Y/N)."

You family's lineage is old and your family name used to be a presiding power in your province. Now your family could only boast fertile lands and loyal friends.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “My aunt’s husband is the only one who can boast any power, any real influence, he is a favorite of his Majesty. That’s it. My father was born a baron of Kentwood and, as his daughter, I have no title. I’m not sure you understand what you’re saying, your Grace. But I am not some well-born lady who is groomed from birth to find a husband. I am here to make a future for my family where there was none.”

“I’m not sure you understand yourself, (Y/N). Your father himself is someone of great importance of the war. Without him, I’m not sure our country would have a chance against our enemy.”

Your brow furrowing, you don’t know what to say to this. You look back once again to the dame Judith who seems to be on the same page of her book.

The Duke’s voice pulls you back, and you turn to look at him. “I’m sure your uncle isn’t the only one the King respects.”

Your father never speaks of politics at home with his children, not even you. You know the cost that the war has for the work at home. Things were harder now. Everyone had to put in effort for things to work and for your home to run smoothly. Never have you heard your father complain or even mention the lack of support your lands have from able-bodied men as they have gone off to fight.

You know that there were times you had great parties of people in your large home. Men sat and listened to your father speak for hours. Your mother entertained whoever else came to call. It was as though there were a gathering at your home every night.

You know that your father is respected even with his low title and you look up to him now as you always have.

“Is this why you wished to meet with me?” you ask. “Because of my father?”

“At first when the Dame Judith mentioned you, yes,” he admits. “My own family wants me to find a partner. They wanted for me to find someone whose family has prestige.”

“I see.”

“I met you,” he says. “I thought you were like me, someone who was forced to find a marriage mate and who acted not on your own will, but on your aunt’s. I kept getting upset with you, frustrated that you seem to be like me.”

“I don’t want my aunt to have control over me. I just want to do right by my family. I want them to have the chance that I have now, to marry someone who will be able to care for them. I’m doing all of this to help them because I wish to.”

“There lies the difference between us, then.” He is looking into the lake, his eyes narrowed. “I wanted to be my own person. I wanted to marry just for love and nothing else. I wanted to do things the opposite of my sisters and have a courtship that means something more than my mother’s satisfaction.”

“Then make the most of your situation, your Grace.” Placing your parasol down, you lean forward. “If it is what you wish, I hope that you find love here. I hope you find freedom.”

Looking at you, he gives you a small smile. “I hope so too.”

A thought comes to yo. Giving a look back to the shore, you take the oars in your hands, and begin paddling your boat away from Mrs. Dench and further out into the lake.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Christopher asks as you move the oars through the water at a quick pace.

“I’m taking us away from our nanny,” you say with a mischievous smile. You realize that the Duke has most likely spent his life doing what others wished for him to do. “This lake is very large and we have yet to eat our lovely picnic. I believe I can find us a very nice spot.”

The Duke shakes his head, and you both look back to see Mrs. Dench standing on the shore with her book on the ground behind her. You let out a laugh. “She’s going to be angry.”

Christopher laughs as well, and places his hands over your own. “Allow me to row us, at least,” he says. “You might ruin your dress.”

The thought of what Evangeline may do to you if you rip your gown is the only reason you let go of the oars. He keeps up the pace and you both are far out into the lake, both smiling. Christopher’s smile brings life to him in this moment.

You notice a small island up ahead and tell him. He steers towards it and you bump on to the shore.

There are tall trees and large bushes behind a clearing. Autumnal flowers are littering the ground in a cacophony of colors. Standing up in the boat, you look behind yourself to see that Mrs Dench is nowhere in sight.

You turn back to the Duke with a smile on your face, only to lose your balance in the boat and fall over and into the water.

Christopher is after you in no time, jumping into the shallow water and helping you up.

You’re both soaked through your clothes and you suddenly feel a hundred pounds heavier in the several layers you’re wearing. As the both of your walk to the shore, you hold on to the Duke as though you might slip back into the water if you let go. He has his arm around your waist and helps you to the shore before he assists you in sitting on a nearby log.

“Are you alright, (Y/N),” he says with concern, checking your face and arms.

You let out a laugh and nod. “Only my pride is wounded,” you say. Putting a hand up, you feel that your hair has come undone from your spill. “And my hair.”

The Duke smiles and nods. “If it is any consolation, you still look every bit as handsome as you always do.”

The heat in your cheeks doesn’t help to stop your laughter. “My aunt will not be happy about this,” you say with a giggle.

“Clothes can be laundered,” he says with a smile. “Though we should be careful. You might catch a cold if you stay in those.”

You stop giggling and finally feel the chill hit you with a shiver.

Christopher walks to the boat to pull it further onto the shore and pulls out your basket and the blanket on top. “I wont look,” he says. “But you’ll need to take off your clothes and put this over you.” He hands you the blanket.

You take it gingerly, and still feel the heat in your cheeks.

He pulls off his own coat and vest and place them over a boulder. You turn your eyes away from the shirt clinging to his well-formed muscles. You see him moving around in your peripheral, and you are able to keep a wary eye on him. Picking up wood and sticks around you, he places them down in a pile and begins to construct a small campfire.

He places dried grass and wood down and gets a small fire started relatively quickly. When he looks up at you, he notices you are still dripping wet.You’re shivering against the wind, clutching the blanket.
“You need to get your wet clothes off,” he says, standing.

“I actually don’t know how to take the dress off on my own,” you say in a small voice. “There’s buttons in the back that I can not reach myself. My maid does it for me.”

The red in the Duke face is very evident as he straightens. “Do you… would you like me to…” he trails off, not wanting to offer something so improper.

Your body temperature is dropping, and your hands are beginning to feel numb against the cold air. You nod your head and turn your eyes down. “If you wouldn’t mind helping, your Grace.”

Walking slowly behind you, he places his hands on the buttons of your dress and begins to undo them. One by one, you feel the bodice of your dress coming undone, until it pools at your waist. Your corset would have to be loosened next, as it was soaked through as well.

Christopher unlaces your corset as he rowed the boat earlier, slow and with finesse. You feel your chest is un-tightened, but you are unable to find air easily.

When all the laces are undone, Christopher steps away and goes back to the fire, his back turned to you.

You stand and let the dress fall, before stepping out of it and coming out of your corset. You undo all of your petticoats and lay the garments aside before pulling your picnic blanket over you. Now you only have your shift and stockings on underneath.

You pull a small loaf from your basket and break it. Walking over, basket in hand you move next to Christopher. Offering him half of the loaf, you say "Thank you for your help," in a soft voice.

He takes the bread in his hand and says, “Thank you,” before taking a bite.

You sit on the ground closer to the fire and allow the soft glow of heat radiate your face. You look over to the Duke, his features have softened.

Pushing you hair behind your ear, you turn the bread over in your hand. "What's your home like?" You ask him, trying to continue your conversation.

"Our estate is the largest in our province," he says. "When I was young, my mother would tell me not to stray far from our home. But I was rebellious by nature." He smiles at the thought. "I would rather wander through the woods nearby than study. I would spend hours just playing."

You smile at him. "It sounds like fun. Having your younger brother to play with must have been a treat as well."

Shaking his head, the Duke takes a piece of bread and eats it. "Scott was often ill when we were younger. Our mother kept a close eye on him most days."

Your smile fades. "So… you were by yourself?"

""That's how life was," he says. "Studies, fighting lessons, quiet…" he stops speaking as though a dark thought has come to mind.

You think on the constant rumble of noise in your own home. Your sisters and brothers always talking and moving and in your space at all times. You'd wanted to know what it would be like to be alone with your thoughts. On more than one occasion you'd wished they'd just disappear. You look down to your hands and frown. "That hardly seems like a childhood, your Grace."

"Don't pity me, (Y/N). No one's life is perfect and I have lived quite a privileged one thus far." Finding his eyes, you see the softness there that you've grown fond of seeing. He has a smile on his face as though to reassure you. "There are people who have endured worse."

That may be true, but it does nothing to make you feel better. "Rebellious by nature?" You ask instead of going further on the subject of a lonely childhood.

You see a bit of red in his cheeks. "One cannot spend their life following every rule."

You can't help but tease. "And one can blatantly disregard every rule set forth." You let out a small giggle before biting into your bread.

"Says the woman who rowed a boat to get away from her chaperone." He laughs softly.

"Don't you feel quite a bit more free being away from Mrs. Dench? I swear that woman could read our lips from thirty yards away."

The afternoon goes on like this. You learn about the Duke and he learns about you. You both peel away layers until you're laughing together like old friends.

You both eat and talk until the basket is empty and your clothes are dried. Christopher gathers the basket to place in the boat as you stand to get your corset.

You let the blanket fall from your shoulders as you reach the log your clothes are own. Your sheer shift moves over you gently as you bend to grab your corset.

You're turning to ask the Duke for his help when you see him staring at you. He quickly averts his eyes and turns away.

"I'm sorry," he says, still facing away.

You look down and see that the sheer fabric covering you leaves nothing to the imagination. Every shape and curve is outlined under your dress. Your chest is even visible through the cloth.
You let out a gasp and quickly cover yourself despite the fact that the Duke has already turned away.

Embarrassed, you put on your clothes to the best of your ability. You are able to hook your corset, but the ties in the back are still loose. Your petticoats are uneven and you have no way to tidy your hair.
The Duke has already put on his own clothes and is putting out the fire when you look back up at him.

You move to the boat and are about to jump in when you feel hands at your back. The Duke quietly buttons your dress.

The Duke helps you into the boat and pushes it off the shore before climbing in himself.

You're both back on the water just as quiet as when you started. You look up at the late afternoon sky. If you two had sat and spoken any longer, the sun may have set on you.

You can't help but wonder what the Duke must be thinking. He's not looking at you, set on the motions of his rowing. You watch his strong arms going through the motions before your eyes wander to his chest. He's seen more of you than you'd ever seen of his gender. Imagination is all you have to go on. After all, the only glimpse you've ever received of the male form is from science diagrams and textbooks.

You notice how different the Duke's features are from that of his Majesty's. While Thomas is lithe and lean, Christopher has bulk and dimension. You think on how easily they were both able to lift you and blush deeply.

Before long, you're at the dock and the Dame Judith is coming up.She speaking with disapproval at the two of you.

You smile at her as the Duke helps you out of the boat, saying with an airy laugh, "I thought of a nice place to sit for our lunch."

Mrs. Dench looks you up and down, curious about your appearance. "We got to shore but I had a bit of a tumble."

Christopher says nothing and straightens his jacket.

"I cannot begin to tell you how worried I was," Mrs. Dench says looking between the two of you. "You could have been hurt."

You're happy that she's let this go for now and look to the Duke. He glances at you before looking ahead again.

When you make it back to the Palace, Taryn is waiting for you on the steps.

The Duke excuses himself once inside, advising that he will be back for dinner after meeting his associate.

Mrs. Dench begins walking in the direction of your uncle and aunts suites. She looks back at you over her shoulder. "Once you are presentable please meet us in the parlor."

Taryn looks at you up and down, but you wave a hand dismissively. "I'm afraid my date with the Duke was a bit more eventful than we'd hoped." You sigh and walk with her toward your rooms.

You are inside and finally see yourself in the mirror. You are much more disheveled than you'd originally thought. You hair is all loose now and your dress is twisted.

Beginning her work on your dress, Taryn helps you out of the pink garment and then pauses.

You look at her over your shoulder, but she shakes her head quickly and resumes working.

When she gets to your corset her hands still completely.

Turning to face her now, you look down at yourself. "I fell into the water," you say in explanation.

Taryn is looking at her shoes. "Forgive me for being rude, miss. I don't mean to offend you. It's just… I don't know how you could have twisted your clothes by falling into the lake. Your corset is completely undone."

"I can explain," you say before you stop yourself. What would Taryn think if you tell her that the Duke had to help you from your wet clothes? That would be completely scandalous and she would come to her own conclusions.

"I… I had to loosen the corset because it was done so tightly." You hate yourself for lying, but continue. "Having to wear it on the boat was too difficult so I had to undo it before we began our trip."

Your words are met with silence. She doesn’t say a word, but continues her work to get you undressed.

As Taryn gives you a cloth to wipe your face, you say “I may need a bath tonight.”

She nods and goes to your wardrobe for a fresh set of clothes.

When you’re done changing, you come out of your room, Taryn on your heels. Your footfalls echo in the large hallways as you make your way to your aunt’s suites.

When you reach the door, you can already hear the animated voices of the two older women behind the door. Dame Judith Dench seems to be telling your aunt what transpired. Taryn opens the door without looking at you. Stepping into the room, Mrs. Dench stops speaking and your aunt turns to look at you sharply.

Quickly closing the door, Taryn takes her leave.

“And how do you wish to explain your behavior, young woman?” Your aunt says standing and coming towards you.

You take a step back, knowing there’s not much more space you can put between the two of you. “We had our picnic on the lake,” you say quickly. “It was just a harmless--”

You aunt cuts you off before you can continue. “Harmless?” she says in disbelief. “There is nothing harmless about what you have done today, (Y/N)!” Putting her hand to her forehead, she lets out a heavy sigh. “Your reputation could have been ruined by your actions today. You were gone for hours!”

“We did nothing wrong,” you say, juxtapositioning your aunt’s roar in a soft voice. “I fell into the water when we got out to picnic.”

“You should have never left Mrs. Dench’s sight,” she finally steps away from you, going toward her chaise and throwing herself down. Arm going over her eyes, she fans herself with her other hand. “Oh, Mrs. Dench, I dread to think what may have happened had you not been there.”

“I thought the same thing myself, dear Evangeline. Your niece has a lot to learn, indeed! Going off on her own like that with a gentleman.” She looks to you with a scowl. “Your impropriety will ruin your reputation. You’re very lucky it was I there today with you and not someone who spreads scandalous rumors.”

You feel your temper rising at their words. What on earth were they accusing you of? “We did nothing,” you voice is beginning to rise, but you continue. “I wanted to get to know the Duke. Isn’t that what you wanted? How could we be comfortable with you watching us over our shoulder?”

“Watch your tone young lady!” You aunt says, sitting up. “I will make this very clear to you. You will behave yourself while you are here, do you understand? I will not have someone of my blood flouncing around like some kind of strumpet.”

Your hands are clenched so tightly into fists, your knuckles begin to strain. “I am not a whore,” you say. You’re fighting back tears in your anger.

“You could have fooled me,” your aunt says and waves you off. “Back to your room before dinner. You will behave yourself in front of the Duke, are we understood?”

You know if you speak out of turn, your aunt will punish you for it, and you don’t want to have a sore back of hands at dinner. You turn to leave before anything else can be said.

Out in the hallway, Taryn is speaking with another servant. She goes quiet when she sees you and the other servant walks away briskly.

“Back to your room, miss?” she asks, coming to you.

You shake your head and turn away from her, not wanting her to see your wet eyes. “I’m going to walk around a bit.”

“I understand.” She goes to close the door when your aunt calls her in.

You quickly walk away aimless in your steps, but wanting to get away from your aunt as soon as possible. You follow the golden walls, your thoughts racing.

You’re in your own head, and don’t notice the pair walking in front of you until you’re nearly run into them.

You look up, about to apologize, but your breath catches in your throat.The Duke Christopher and the Baron Sebastian look to you with equally bemused expressions.

Chapter Text

Sebastian speaks first. “Draga mea,” he says stepping forward.

You nod your head to him. "Baron Sebastian. Good to see you," you say in a calm voice that shows no sign of how you currently feel. You can only hope he'll behave himself in front of the Duke.

"The pleasure is entirely mine," he says and takes your hand in his own. "Seeing you now means I'll be able to dream of your lovely face tonight."

The Duke rolls his eyes. "Leave her alone, Seb. She won't know you're joking."

"(Y/N) and I have been well-acquainted by now," he says and encloses your hand with his other one. "Haven't we, dearest?"

"I would not say we are that well-acquainted, sir." You are able to easily pull your hand from his. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you look to the Duke.

"I hope your afternoon is going well, Your Grace," you say to him.

"Well enough," he says.

"I didn't realize the two of you knew each other," you say. "Though, there are only so many people staying here as guests of his Majesty."

"Chris and I are long friends," Sebastian says.

"You say, friends," the Duke says. His voice holds a humor you haven't heard from him yet. "To me, you're more of a nuisance. I'm always getting you out of some sort of problem."

"I could say the same about you," the Baron retorts with the same amount of mirth. You can't doubt that they must have quite the history.

"If you have a moment, your Grace, I'd hoped to have a word in private. It won't take much time." Your hands are wringing together against your will. The feeling that you are being watched and heard by everyone makes you anxious.

Nodding, he turns to the Baron and bids him goodbye. "Don't get into too much trouble," he says, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"You know me," Baron Sebastian says with a cool smirk and bows to you before walking away.

The Duke sighs a bit. "That's why I'm worried."

He follows you to one of the nearby libraries. Before going in, you look around. When you see no one, you head in and the Duke follows.

Once behind the doors, you take a look at some of the books in the room. You tell yourself that you’ll be able to keep your composure as long as you don’t have to look at him.

Christopher watches you in silence, going to a large chair and taking a seat.

You break the quiet permeating the air, but continue to peruse the works of fiction and non-fiction in front of you. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me, your Grace."

"Whatever could you mean by that?” He asks, eyes on you and you can feel your cheeks heat up once again.

“Well, you must be making your judgments on me already. My behavior on the lake… how the Baron Sabastian addressed me just now. I just want you to know that I am not the promiscuous sort; nor do I often go running off with gentlemen. I sometimes forget that I've come to court… well, things are different at home. There are fewer rules to follow.”

The Duke stands at this, you can hear the rustle of his coat and the stretch of the fabric on the chair.

Before you can take another breath, he’s behind you. His hand landing on your waist makes your heart jump. “I will admit that you’ve aroused my curiosity,” his voice is against your ear.

As you turn around, he takes a small step back. “But you are a lady. I will treat you as such.” His hand moves from your waist.

Your eyes are fixed on his shoes. Taking a breath, you let it out in a huff and look him in the eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

He gives you a smile and his hand comes up to cup your cheek gently. “Don’t thank me for treating you as you should be treated,” he says.

You could not have stopped the heat in your face even if you wanted to. Blinking at him, you try to form words, but stop to clear your throat instead.

He chuckles and pulls away. “Would you care to walk with me to dinner?” he asks, offering his arm to you.

Shaking your head, you give him your best smile, still remembering your aunt’s words in your ears. “I have to go to my rooms,” you say. “I will meet you there later, Your Grace.”

“Very well,” he says, his arm falling. “I’ll see you there.” Walking to the door, he stops before opening it. “I've enjoyed myself today,” he says. “I hope you did too.”

Nodding, you say, “It was lovely.”

Your words tug on the corner of his lips and he nods before taking his leave.

As the door closes behind him, you sigh and use your hand to fan your face. These gentlemen would certainly be the death of you.

It takes you only a few moments to leave the library and head to your rooms. When you walk through your doors, you see that Tibb is there with Taryn. They both look up when you walk in.

(Y/N),” Tibb runs up and embraces you. “Taryn told me what happened.”

You put your arms around Tibb and look to Taryn. “May we have some privacy?” you ask her in an even voice. “I wish to speak with my sister alone.”

Taryn looks taken aback at this, but says nothing except, “Of course, miss.” Walking to the door, she shuts it tightly and you pull away from Tibb to look her in the eye. She looks back at you and you can't help but see a younger version of yourself in her.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I want you to know that nothing scandalous has happened.” Your voice is serious. You search Tibb’s face, hoping that she will believe you.

She scoffs. “I know, (Y/N).” She’s smiling. “Remember two summers ago when Peter tried to kiss you?”

“That was different,” you say, but smile despite yourself. One of the neighbor boys, Peter, had a crush on you. When you'd told him he was too young for you, he tried to prove himself by giving you a kiss. So startled you were, that you retreated to your room and refused to come out until the boy had promised to keep his lips to himself.

“I’m sure Peter’s heart was broken.” Your sister is laughing now.

You wish you could laugh with her-- that you could find any humor in your current state. In truth, you're not sure what you would have stopped the Duke from a small kiss. Or anything further than that.
"Peter was a boy. His infatuation with me was fleeting at best, and an annoyance at worst."

You then explain to her about what really happened during your outing with His Grace. Tibb is enraptured, hanging onto your every word. You gloss over the fact that he'd helped you from your corset in favor of letting her know he behaved himself in a gentlemanly like manner.

When Taryn knocks on the door for dinner, Tibb stands with you. "Aunt Evangeline is allowing me to dine with you tonight. Provided I stay quiet," she says.

You side-eye her with a smile. "I assume being able to see the Duke is the real reason you'll deign to eat with her."

"You know me all too well, (Y/N)," she says leading you to the door.

Taryn walks the two of you to the dining room of your uncle Leo and aunt Evangeline.

The Duke, your aunt, and uncle are already in the room in conversation. Seeing you and your sister, your uncle and Christopher stand, your uncle introducing your younger sister.

When the two of you enter, you both curtsey and take your places at the table. Duke Christopher gives you a smile as he pulls out a chair for you.

Tibb is sat across the table, next to your aunt with your uncle at the head of the table.

You sit and the Duke sits next to you. "You look lovely," he says in a soft voice.

Your aunt and uncle are already in conversation and they don't seem to notice him address you. Tibb smiles at you and you're sure the Duke has her seal of approval.

"I haven't changed since you saw me minutes ago, Your Grace," you say in the same hushed tones, a small smile forming on your lips.

"It still holds true," he says as he takes a drink from the cup in front of him. "We're I more poetic, I would write about your beauty, which I found so superficial at first."

Raising an eyebrow, you smooth a napkin over your lap. "Is this true?"

"You are not the first young lady Dame Judith has paired me with. Though, all of them were beautiful young women with no aspirations besides finding a wealthy husband and raising their status."

"Not every woman you meet is after your fortune, Your Grace," you say with a small huff, and reach for your own cup.

"I know this," he says. "However, you will learn that in this court, love goes to the highest bidder."

You bristle at his words. "I have no bid to offer, Your Grace. My family has respect but no money to grow your vast estate."

"Money only goes so far." He looks to your aunt and uncle who appear to be discussing plans for the coming weeks. All at the table are given a plate of the first course. Looking back at you, he holds your gaze. "I had hoped to find a companion."

Blinking, you take a sip of your drink and look away from the Duke in favor of the silver flatware in front of you. 'A companion,' you think to yourself. 'He looks for a partner in life and, quite possibly, love.' You nod and look to him again. "So court has disappointed you, thus far, Your Grace?"

"It had," he admits. "Until the night I asked you to dance."

"Your Grace," your uncle Leo calls for the Duke's attention and you're glad for it as you feel the blush in your face spreading.

The Duke looks to your uncle and starts to speak with him about trading and treaties between his province and another's.

Taking a sip from your water, you can see Tibb smiling brightly at you. Though, she couldn't have heard what the Duke had said, given he spoke so lowly, only you could hear.

Soon dinner is over and you say your goodbyes to the Duke as your uncle has invited him to the after-dinner conversation.

"Be careful," you say, under your breath. "My uncle tends to cheat at card games when he drinks, and he will ask you to play."

"I'll keep my wits about me," the Duke says with a coy smile. "Until we meet again.”

"Until then," you say and curtsey before taking your leave.

While leaving the dining room with Tibb, Taryn comes to you and gives a small bow before handing you a letter. "Addressed to you, miss," she says, looking to make sure no one can see the exchange.

You nod and thank her, before linking arms with Tibb and walking to your rooms.

Tibb shows her excitement and asks you to open the letter as soon as the door to your room is closed.

"Let me get comfortable first, Tibb," you give a small laugh and sit down on the large chaise.

She comes to sit next to you, placing her head on your shoulder. "It has to be from the king," she says with a smile.

The thought had crossed your mind when Taryn handed the note to you. Opening it, you find the message cryptic and short.

"(Y/N), meet me the Eastern gatehouse at midnight tonight."

You furrow your brows, reading the note again. "Who could this be from?" You ask yourself.

Tibb looks at you with worry in her face. "You shouldn't go.”

"It may be important," you fold the note and tuck it into your dress pocket. "I'll just go to find out who it's from."

Your sister nods but takes your hand. "You'll be careful?" She asks. "I promise not to tell our aunt, but only if you promise you'll be safe."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," you say to her. "Whoever sent this note must know who I am. They can't mean any harm."

Tibb stays with you that night, trying to stay up with you until you have to sneak away. When Taryn comes to help you out of your clothes for the evening, Tibb insists she can help you instead.

It nears midnight, and Tibb snores softly on your bed. You get a heavy cloak and gloves before heading out.

The palace at night looks so much different. The quiet hallways seem to glow blue and every step is an echo. There are still servants that are awake, but they pay you no mind as they go about their business.

Walking out into the courtyard, you stay close to the wall and quickly make your way to the Eastern gatehouse.

When there, you see that candlelight shines through the window above, and you wonder if whoever sent the letter meant to meet inside. You can hear nothing from in the building, and the cool air of the night blows in silence.

You stand near the entrance of the gatehouse, looking to your left and right, waiting for someone to show.

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot gets your attention and you look to see a figure approaching.

They also have a cloak on, their hood pulled up. "(Y/N), is that you?"

Recognizing the voice, you step forward. "I got your letter from my maid."

"I see that curiosity killed the cat," he chuckles.

His words make your cheeks heat up. "I thought this was important, but now I see it's one of your little tricks. Have a good night, Baron."

"Ah, but it is important, draga mea," he says and takes your hand. "There's a meeting that you're expected to attend."

"A meeting?" Your voice drips with disbelief. "After midnight?"

"A party," he corrects himself. "In any case, I promised you would be there. The cast is excited to meet you."

"Speak clearly, sir. What cast?"

"They just want to meet the young woman that was handpicked by the king to lead the show," he says. His voice was innocent, but his grin was nothing but sin.

"The masquerade? His Majesty said that on a whim."

"So you'll come?" He asks, already leading you. "Meet the people you'll be acting alongside."

You follow, your feet making the decision for you. "I'll have to be back in my room before sunrise," you say and pull your hand from Sebastian.

"Like a fairy tale princess," he says with a small laugh. "We'll have you back, safe and sound, draga mea."

He leads you to the far side of the palace. The walk there is long and your feet begin to hurt.

You both go through the side of a building and make your way into a heavy wooden door.

Taking your hand, the Baron Sebastian guides you through dark corridors. You don't fight his firm grip as you are led through the foreign halls.

You can tell when you reach your destination as the sound of laughter and music fills your ears. Sebastian knocks, and the double doors open in invitation.

The sight that greets you leaves you shocked. The large room is littered with people. There are women in ballgowns and trousers and alcohol flowing freely through the room. The atmosphere is different from that of the ballroom. And a thick haze clouds the room. Women lounge on sofas and laps of noblemen like cats and men return the favor. You avert your eyes before you can openly stare at the proceedings.

Sebastian lets go of your hand and you feel as though your safety line has just been cut. He's pulled away by some excited gentlemen who lead him to a table of cards.

You stand awkwardly by the door taking in the sounds and visuals as though you've just been granted your senses. The air is thick with perfume and smoke, making it harder to breathe. It's only when the door opens again that you move out of the way, to a corner of the room.

You see the Baron look to you before speaking to his companions and rising from the table. He grabs a drink from the table before making his way to you.

"You look uncomfortable, dearest," he says, not smiling in his usual sly way.

"Where are we?" You ask. A woman with large feathers in her hair offers you a wine glass and you politely decline. "Is everyone here a part of the cast?"

"Some," he says. He takes the glass that had been offered to you and drinks from it. "I'll introduce you."

He rests his hand against the small of your back and gently leads you to a group of people standing in conversation. "Ladies and gentlemen," he begins. The small group turns to look at the two of you. "May I present (Y/N) of Kentwood."

A red-headed woman comes forward. "I thought you said your charm didn't work on this 'rose', Sebastian. How were you able to magic her away?"

"I mentioned the chance to meet all of you," he says. "I hope seeing her means your curiosity is satisfied?"

You curtsey before them. "I can't wait to work together. I won't let you down."

"So proper," a young woman comes to stand next to you and takes your arm from Sebastian. "You didn't tell her the rules."

"Didn't have the time," Sebastian says, rolling his eyes at her.

"We'll worry about that later, then. My name's Kitty," the young woman says and smiles at you. "This is my third season and my second performance."

You nod and the group begins to introduce themselves and mention their numbers of seasons and masques.

"This is my first season and first performance," you finally say. You don't mention that it will be your last as well.

The conversation continues with your group and some of you eventually retire to a large sitting area. You cradle a cup that Kitty has given you, not yet drinking from it as it will have been your second glass.

"How often do you all come together like this?" You ask.

Sebastian sits next to you. "Every week," he says. He looks down at the drink in your hand and smiles. "It's not poisoned, you know?"

"I don't usually drink so much," you say. "I would just have wine at home with my parents."

He nods. "I can understand. If you don't want it, I'll take it off your hands."

You hold the cup in your hand and sniff before taking a tentative sip. The smoky flavor burns as it goes down and you make a face.

"Wash it down with this." Kitty is putting another cup in your hands and hands Sebastian your drink. "It's sweeter."

You drink from the second glass and nod. "Thank you.”

She grins and sits back, taking the cup back. "Are you feeling a little more comfortable now?" She asks. "We're not all carnivores, like your friend," she gestures to the Baron and he scoffs, looking into his glass.

"Our maiden has a match made already, believe it or not. I was already warned to stay away," he is still looking into his glass before taking a drink.

"Do tell," Kitty says, leaning in. "Some of us stay for several seasons and never find a good match."

You can tell the difference in demeanor in both of them. Kitty is excited to hear, but the Baron has turned away.

"I don't don't have much to talk about," you say. "My aunt made the arrangement. We've only seen each other twice."

"Who is your match?" She asks.

You don't get the chance to answer before Sebastian speaks up. "The Duke," he says. "Chris, right?" He finishes his drink before standing and going to find another drink.

Kitty isn't the only one listening, apparently. Another young woman makes a comment. "What would the Duke want with the daughter of a baron?"

Coming to your aid, Kitty is quick to dismiss her. "You've obviously got certain… assets in your favor." She takes the seat the Baron just vacated and leans forward, speaking lowly so only you can hear.
"Jealousy is an ugly trait, but some of the girls here have been rejected by his Grace," she says. And no one has ever been chosen by the King to be a part of the performance."

"I don't want to stir the pot. There's nothing special about me," you say as she leans back.

"You do know what the Duke wants, right?" She says.

"A partner," you say. The wine is getting to your head, but you answer steadily. "He wants to make his family happy and he wants to be happy."

"The Duke wants an heir," the Baron is back and looks at you. "If you can give him that then you are the perfect match."

"What are… what are you saying?" You ask.

"You have a large family," Kitty says. "You're one of nine children."

You shake your head, the fussiness that comes with the drink is affecting you more than you'd realized. "I'm not a cow," you let out a humorless laugh. "Is that why?" You ask aloud and lower your face into your hands. "Is that why he tolerates my company?"

You can only hope no one sees your tears, but you're wiping them away messily.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Kitty says. "I thought that was common knowledge." She places a hand on your back. "Who needs men?" She says with a scoff. "You and I should go on our own outing."

You nod. Bringing your head up you smile at her and sniffle. "I do enjoy your company, Kitty."

"And I, yours, (Y/N)," she gives you a gentle smile before looking to the Baron. "Can I trust you to take her home safely?" She asks sternly.

"You forget that this rose has rejected me at every turn. I'm not one to push." He yawns into his hand and finishes his drink before helping you to your feet.

"You've had quite a lot yourself, Seb," she says.

"No more than usual," he says. When you sway on your feet, he puts an arm around your waist and outs your arm around his shoulders. "I'm doing much better than you, at least."

"I'm not drunk," you say softly. "I just need some air."

Kitty bids you goodbye and promises to see you soon as the Baron leads you from the party.

The cold air cuts through your cloak as the both of you make your way outside of the building. You draw it around yourself and clung onto the Baron and the heat that he radiates.

Looking up to him, you mumble, "Thank you for bringing me. You're nice… for a fox."

"A fox," he lets out a laugh. "What makes me a fox?"

"You're sneaky," you say, pointing at him. "Whenever we met, I thought you would try to eat me." A small part of you is telling you to stop talking, but you continue anyway. "I know what you want, Baron."

You can see his smile in the moonlight as he continues to look at you. "What do I want, draga mea?"

You look away, your skin flushed and your heart beating against your ribcage. "My mother taught me to be wary of gentlemen like you."

"The foxes," he says. "Yes, you should stay away."

You stumble a bit and wince at the pain in your foot. Pulling away, you reach down and touch your heal to find it tender to the touch.

"Are you hurt?" The Baron asks. You can swear that he sounds almost worried, but brush it off.

"I should have worn more sensible shoes," you whine.

"If you can make it for a few minutes more, my rooms are in the building we just passed. I can get something to bandage your foot." Sebastian kneels next to you to check your foot. You flinch when he touches the back of your ankle. "You can't walk all the way back like this. Let's bandage it before you hurt yourself more."

You nod and he helps you up and keeps you close as you double back and head to a building not too far from you.

You make it inside and the Baron leads you to what you assume to be his rooms. You go inside and he sits you down on a sofa before heading to his dresser.

In front of the couch, at the center of the room, a fire burns lowly. It's warmth envelopes you and you kick off your heels to pull your feet up.

The Baron walks back with several pieces of cloth in his hands. He sits down at your feet and gingerly lifts the injured one to begin wrapping it.

He's surprisingly gentle with you as he works to wrap your sore ankle in the handkerchief. You don't see him finish his work, however, as you nod off.