Topic: Filled With Promise

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:50 EST

November 6th, 1613

Rowland Chappel had been the Frankish ambassador to the court of Pomerania for ten years, and in that time, had been privileged to earn, if not the High King's friendship, then at least his respect. He had interceded on his master, King Christian's, behalf many times, the point of contact between the two monarchs, and much of their good relations was entirely down to him. He had been trusted with the negotiations for the marriage of the Princess Royal to the Crown Prince of Pomerania, and through his good sense and knowledge of the two lands, the contract had been easily put together.

He had expected his appointment as proxy, to escort the young princess from her own borders here to the heart of the High Kingdom. What he had not expected was to find the girl so very changed. When he had left Francia, she had been a ruddy-faced urchin of six, inclined toward rowdy displays of swordplay and rough-housing with her father and his gentlemen, and indulged frequently in those pursuits. Yet soon after he had left for Pomerania, the first prince of Francia had been born, and it would seem that the world had changed for the young princess, and she with it.

Still, he was pleased with her - pleased to note that, despite her obvious discomfort on the journey, she had not complained, enduring the long ride and the increasing bitterness of the weather as they ventured further north without anything more than the occasional inquiry as to the general seasons. Indeed, she had only asked for a rest stop once, and as such, they had made remarkably good time for a retinue escorting a royal bride.

Only yesterday, only twenty-six days after she had left her father's court in the south of Francia, they had arrived at the royal lodge of Berengaria, located five miles outside the city of Berengaria itself. It was the traditional resting place of the brides who came to marry into the Royal House of Hasperan, for custom dictated that the groom should bring his prospective bride into the city upon his own horse, to show her off to the people who would surely gather in excitement for their first glimpse of the girl who would someday be their Queen.

Thus, Ambassador Chappel waited patiently as the winter morning wore on, aware that in the room beyond, a young woman was quietly worrying herself about whether or not the Crown Prince would like her enough. She had confessed a fear that she would be sent home in disgrace, for not being what the prince wanted in a wife, and though Chappel had tried, he did not think he had reassured her as well as he could have.

But this was why he had chosen to await Prince Stephan's arrival separately from the young princess, wishing to offer him a chance to ask whatever questions he might have out of the earshot of the girl he was come to bring home to the High King and his Queen. Perhaps if those questions could be answered before they met, such worries they both nurtured could be set aside.

As it happened, they didn't have to wait too long, as the Crown Prince and a small group of his men arrived shortly after noon. It wasn't difficult to tell which was the prince; he was riding in the middle of the entourage, upon a great white horse that looked as noble as he did. He wore a fur-lined red cloak over a leather jerkin and trousers, which were tucked neatly into black boots. His curling brown hair was tousled and windswept, his cheeks flushed from the cold, blue eyes sparkling with liveliness and excited anticipation to meet his betrothed.

The ambassador smiled with relief on seeing the prince ride up, moving to greet the younger man outside. He had known Prince Stephan a long time, feeling a certain warmth for the next High King. "Your Highness, welcome." Chappel bowed low, unaware that in the window above, a pale face looked out through the leaded glass, curious for her first glimpse of her betrothed.

"Rowland!" Stephan exclaimed, smiling broadly, greeting the man by his first name as he climbed down from his horse. After all, he had known the ambassador most of his life, and he was held in the utmost esteem by his father, the king. He closed on the man, offering him an arm and clapping him on the shoulder, as if they were two old friends. "I trust you are well. How was the journey?"

Chuckling at the exuberant greeting, the ambassador straightened to clasp arms with the prince, turning to walk him inside, out of the bitter chill that clung in the air. "I am very well, thank you, your highness," he assured Stephan warmly. "And the journey was shorter than I had expected. Indeed, I believe we have saved the king, your father, money with our speed on the road."

"All that matters is your safety and the safety of the princess," Stephan assured him, with a fond smile and a mutual clasp of arms in greeting and friendship. If he was aware of the curious eyes that were watching his arrival, he might have lifted his gaze, but he was not, and so he only followed the ambassador inside, eager to warm his limbs by the fire and perhaps have something to eat before he met with his betrothed. "I trust you had no trouble," he said, more question than statement. He assumed they had traveled by way of Ysmay; thereby avoiding the Coimbran border altogether.

Chappel called for the gentlemen who kept the royal lodge as they entered, guiding the prince toward the great hearth in which burned a merry fire, bleeding heat through the wide room. As busy hands moved to provide warmed wine and flat cakes, the ambassador stood easy, his thumbs hooked into his belt. "No, indeed, we have made better time that I had thought we might," he agreed with the prince. "We left the pilgrim road as soon as was prudent, and with the princess' lack of retinue, we covered the miles well. I thought it best to avoid the pilgrim road; such young eyes should not see the degradation of those refugees who are seeking the touch of the Church."

"Perhaps not," Stephan replied, pulling off his gloves as he came to stand as close to the fire as possible without getting singed. "But if she is one day to be queen, she will need to know the particulars of all her subjects." As things stood, it was not only a possibility, but an inevitability. Still, he was glad they had not taken that road. The princess' safety was paramount, and she would not have been safe there. Once he had his gloves off, he turned for a cup of wine to warm his blood and a cake to fill his stomach after the long ride. He glanced toward the stairs, almost as if expecting her to come floating down them on angel wings to greet him.

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:51 EST

Chappel caught the glance toward the wide carven staircase, not even attempting to hide his smile. It was his openness that had made him so successful, after all. "She merely awaits your summons, your highness," he told the prince. "She seems well recovered from the journey, though I think perhaps her lady could stand a further rest. Still, that rest will come in the days upon us." He eyed Stephan thoughtfully. "I am here to stand as her father, your highness, and answer any concerns you may have."

"Concerns?" he echoed before draining that cup of wine in its entirety, not only to warm his blood but to steady his nerves. It was strange how he felt more nervous about meeting a woman than he did before battle. "My only concern is whether or not she will like me," he admitted reluctantly. That wasn't entirely true, but it was close enough to the truth. He fingered the empty cup in his hand as he turned back to the fire in quiet contemplation. "Has she asked about me at all?" he said quietly, almost as if he was afraid to ask.

"She has asked a great deal about your highness," the ambassador assured him, moving to rest one hand against the warm stone of the mantel above the hearth. "She displays an eagerness to know you that is charming, yet I feel I should tell you her own fear. The princess is very much afraid that you will not like her, and send her home in disgrace. Thus, I believe her questions to have the motive of shaping herself to appeal to you in as many ways as she can."

He darted a glance at the other man, arching a curious brow at what he was telling him of the princess' concerns. "I do not want her to shape herself to appeal to me," Stephan said. "She should be herself and not pretend to be someone she isn't. If we are to spend the rest of our days together, it would be better that we are forthright with each other right from the start, don't you think?" He turned to pace the floor, either nervously or thoughtfully, the wine glass still in his hands. "I shall tell her all my bad habits!" he declared, furrowing his brows as he tried to think what they might be.

"Then that, indeed, would be selling yourself false to her, your highness," Chappel pointed out with a faint smile. "If she is to be herself, then you should be, also, and not seek to frighten her with every bad thing you can think of about yourself. You will have time to court her a little before his Holiness arrives to conduct the marriage; time enough, I think, for you both to learn that neither one need fear for lack of suitability. But I cannot judge in your highness' stead. To know her, you should first meet her."

Stephan was frowning thoughtfully still, worriedly even. "It was years before my parents could stand the sight of each other, and yet, they had no trouble making children. I would prefer a wife who does not dread sharing my bed," he mused quietly and mostly to himself, as he stood before the fire again, staring into the flames.

"As a maid, she will be understandably uncertain," the ambassador said as delicately as he could. "I can only restate my opinion, your highness, that neither you, nor your lady, will suffer in this marriage." He offered what he hoped was a reassuring expression, though he doubted he had given much reassurance at all. It was amusing to see the Crown Prince, usually so confident of himself, nervous when it came to meeting a young woman already a little infatuated by him.

Stephan's gaze strayed toward the staircase again, knowing she was up there somewhere, probably as nervous as he was. "I would appreciate any advice you have to offer, Rowland," he said, his gaze never leaving the staircase.

For a moment, Chappel found himself smiling at the past, at an image of a teenaged boy who had presented himself so nervously when the new ambassador had first come to court; and at the image of a small girl waving a wooden sword, left behind in the country of that ambassador's birth. "Kindness, your highness," he offered quietly. "Kindness, and the openness to understand that she holds many secrets, as all women do. She is much changed from the child that I knew, yet I believe that child is still within her. Encourage her, and she will encourage you."

Stephan listened quietly, considering what the ambassador was telling him. He trusted him almost as much as he trusted his father - he had, after all, known him almost as long. "She is nearly half my age. She will think me an old man." Was he trying to talk himself out of it, or was he just having a case of nerves" On the other hand, had she met him years ago, she might have thought him a foolish boy. Now, there was no mistaking he was a man.

"If I may, your highness," Chappel said, offering warning that he was about to speak of things that were delicate in their own right. "There was talk before your own hand was offered that she might be wed to King Clovis of Valentia, a man of an age with your own father. The lady was distraught by such a suggestion; I am given to understand that she spent many days in prayer, weeping at the thought of such a match. Yet when she was told of the contract between yourselves, she smiled, and has not wept for fear or misery since."

Stephan arched a brow as he glanced to the ambassador once again, chuckling suddenly to himself or perhaps at himself and his own nervousness. "Well, I suppose that is in my favor. I am at least closer to her in age than my uncle." He sighed as he realized he was just stalling. "Well, then, shall we?" he asked, tugging at the front of his jerkin to straighten it, though it didn't really need straightening.

"As you wish, your highness." Ambassador Chappel bowed once again, moving to speak quietly to a maidservant who stood nearby. The girl nodded and curtseyed, swiftly climbing the stairs to disappear through a door just within sight of the hearth below. "The princess will join us momentarily."

Stephan looked more nervous than ever, turning to face the ambassador, hoping he would make a good first impression. "How do I look?" he asked, straightening, the cloak still hanging about his shoulders, his hair still tousled from the wind.

The ambassador considered his answer as he did the prince the courtesy of looking him over, aware of footsteps above them, and the creak of a door opening. "Like a man about to meet his bride, your highness," he answered, ever the diplomat, and turned, raising his eyes to the staircase as the princess came into view.

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:51 EST

She was not, as Stephan had feared, a child, grown into the looks inherited from both father and mother. Small and slender, she moved with dignified grace, her hands clasped at her waist as she descended the stairs. Her skin was as pale as ivory, unblemished, touched with rose at her cheeks, dominated by blue eyes that rivaled the winter sky in their hue. Her dress was that of Francia, though not so bright as he might have expected, the hint of blue and purple in her under-dress overlaid with the heaviness of grey velvet; and unlike the women of Pomeran, her hair was dressed and pinned back from her face, a thick braid wrapped about her crown. She wore no jewelry, no adornment save the girdle at her waist, and for all her dignity, she was still a young woman alone in a foreign land.

As the ambassador presented her, Marianne swept into a low curtsey, remaining there in terror of being declared unsuitable at first sight.

Stephan was vaguely aware of a dull thump, like a drum beating slowly and quietly, before realizing it was the thump of his own heart, pulsing blood through his veins and thumping loudly in his ears. That thump seemed to grow louder and more pronounced with each footstep she took down the stairs to meet him. He lifted his gaze to watch as she descended the stairs, and he was not wrong that she seemed to almost float on angel wings. At that moment, he would have sworn that he had never seen a lovelier sight in all his life than the princess who was betrothed to be his wife. If only her demeanor matched her loveliness, but it seemed he was about to find out.

He stepped forward to meet her, bowing low before her and extending a hand in greeting. "Your highness," he said, in a formal tone of voice.

There was just a moment of hesitation as she raised her eyes, letting her hand slip into his as she rose once more. "Your highness," was her reply, her voice soft and a little tremulous, betraying the uncertainty Chappel had spoken of. "I am deeply honored to meet you at last."

"As am I to meet you," he replied, a nervous but sincere smile on his face, his fingers closing very gently on hers, thankfully warmed from the fire. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one," he said, trying to make small talk. He was not an ambassador, full of pretty words, though he was familiar with the way of diplomacy and courtly manners.

"Thank you, it ..." Again, she seemed to hesitate, but not for any sense of uncertainty. The smile that lit up her face was at once teasing and secretive, a swift glance thrown to the one lady she had brought as companion from the Frankish court. "I fear the pace of our journey may have disagreed a little with Lady Bryant," she intimated in a voice filled with quiet amusement, and given the sour look on the older woman's face, it seemed she was right. "Your people are so welcoming, your highness. I only hope I shall not disappoint them, as I hope I do not disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me," he was quick to point out, though never was a very long time. Still, it was hard to disappoint someone who was expecting so little. "It's only a short journey to the capital, but I was hoping you might join me for a little refreshment before we're on our way."

Uncertain quite what the customs were here, Marianne was easily guided, her smile fading but not quite disappearing from her face as she nodded. "Thank you, your highness, you are very kind."

Behind them, Ambassador Chappel rolled his eyes at the very careful courtesy both were giving one another, and cleared his throat. "Your Highness," he bowed to them both, taking his leave. "I will see to the arrangements."

"It's the least I can do," he replied, as he led the young princess toward a settee not far from the fire where they could sit while the ambassador arranged for a light supper before they departed. Though the capital wasn't far, it would be a far more pleasant journey if they weren't weary with hunger. "Rowland tells me you had a pleasant journey," he continued, allowing her to arrange herself on the settee before taking a seat beside her, though with a small polite space between them.

As Lady Bryant sat herself down beside the window, withdrawing a quantity of needlework from her voluminous sleeves, Marianne followed Stephan to the chosen seat. Her eyes were hungry as she looked at his face, finding him far more handsome than his portrait had suggested he would be. The thought of sharing a marriage bed with this man was enough to make her blush crimson, hoping he would dismiss the color in her cheeks as warmth from the fire as she sat down, arranging her skirts out of his way. "The ambassador has been very kind," she said quietly. "I think, perhaps, he was surprised by how small my company was when he met us at the border, and seems to labor under the principle that a woman cannot ride for many long hours, as a man may." Her lips curved in a smile that was definitely mischievous. "I believe I may cured him of that principle."

"The ambassador does not know many women who enjoy riding, though I think, perhaps, some would prefer it over embroidery were they given the chance," he said, with a smile that lit up his whole face, just as mischievous as hers, it seemed, with a short, knowing nod of his head to her escort. His eyes met hers unflinchingly, as blue as the sea. As much as she feared disappointing him, he was pleased with the view. She was even lovelier than he could have imagined, as just as charming.

At his smile, the tension in her seemed to soften, the sharp edge of her uncertainty fading as she, too, glanced toward Lady Bryant. The thought of her former governess finding joy in the wild pursuits the princess still longed for was a little too much for her, and Marianne dissolved into giggles for a moment, hiding her laughter behind one soft hand. "Forgive me," she apologized for her mirth. "You make me think of a time when my dear friend there could not exert any control over me at all."

"And now?" he prompted curiously, matching her smile, charmed by her quiet laughter and the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. If he was lucky, he'd learn how to make her smile like that often once they were wed. He was tempted to reach for her hand and tangle his fingers with hers. Surely there was nothing illicit in such a chaste action, but his hands remained where they were, at a polite distance.

"Now?" Marianne's smile softened as she looked up at him, charmed in her own way by his interest in her, the way his eyes suggested that as she spoke there was nothing he would rather listen to. She'd never had that from anyone before, such interest in her own self, blushing a little to receive it from the man who was to be her lord and master. "I am no longer a child, and a reproving glance can make me submit."

He arched a curious brow at the way she had phrased that, but said nothing of it, presuming she meant nothing by it. "I can see that, and I hardly think you need worry about me admonishing you at all. I must admit you are not quite what I expected."

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:52 EST

Her smile faltered at his words, those blue eyes widening with a flash of something that might almost have been fear as she looked at him. "I am not?" she asked, a small furrow between her brow betraying her concern that perhaps she truly wasn't what he wanted in a wife. She glanced toward Lady Bryant, who was watching them warily, and drew in a deep breath. "I swear, your highness, I will do everything I can to be a good wife to you; everything you could desire, I will try to be."

"Dear girl, that is not what I meant," he assured her with a warm smile that he hoped told her he was not displeased with her. "It is only that you are lovelier than I had imagined. I was expecting a child, and I am pleased to find you are a woman."

Her fingers twitched against the soft velvet of her skirt as he spoke, the relief that rose in her eyes difficult to watch. She had so clearly spent the journey from Francia worrying herself over his approval of her that to hear it cut deep. "Thank you, your highness," she said, her voice shaking once again. "I ....I hope I am not too forward when I say that you far exceed my wildest hopes. I had not thought to be anything more than a burden to my husband, yet ....I dare to hope that perhaps we might be friends."

The smile left his face as he turned serious, and he felt that strange compulsion to reach out and touch her hand again, his own fingers twitching nervously in his lap as he tried to keep them still. Friends was as good a place to start as any, he supposed. "You should know that I, too, wish for someone who can be more than just a mother to my children. I am hoping for someone who can also be a companion, a confidante." A lover and a friend, he thought to himself. "I do not expect you to love me, but I would be happy if you at least like me a little."

A soft flush of rose touched her pale cheeks as she offered a small, shy sort of smile to him. "I already like you more than a little, your highness," she assured him in her soft manner, wishing she could be bold enough to touch him but not daring. "I think, since we are to be wed, you should call me by my name. I do not wish to be a princess in your company, but simply your wife."

He smiled again, looking more than a little relieved by her reply, and held out a hand to her. "I would be pleased if you would call me by my name, as well," he returned, adding almost shyly, "Marianne." He said her name quietly, as if her name was sacred and should only be uttered in quiet tones, a secret to be shared between the two of them.

Her lips parted in a bright smile, not quite the sparkling mischief that had caught his attention, but warm and sweet in her innocence. Her hand rose to slip into his grasp without a second thought as he said her name. She didn't think she would ever hear it said in sweeter tones than his. "Then I shall," she promised him, echoing the quieter tone as she, too, added, "Stephan."

He found himself wondering what it would be like hearing her whisper his name in the dark, lover to lover, with no one there to witness and no need for courtly manners. He liked the way she said his name, with that little Frankish accent of hers, her voice soft and warm and so very feminine. And there it was - his heart feeling that first twitch, not of love exactly, but certainly of attraction, affection, admiration. It was a warm feeling that, given the right nurturing, he thought could grow into love. He said nothing in return as there was nothing to say. He only lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed it to his lips, blue eyes meeting blue eyes, full of hope and longing.

Such a kiss was innocent in its own way, and yet Marianne did not believe she had ever been a part of anything so intimate in her short life thus far. There was no disguising the rising flush on her skin, or the way her chest rose and fell as she gazed into his eyes, echoing that hope, that longing to be more than simply a consort. If she had been braver, she might have turned her hand to touch his cheek, but instead only leaned closer to him, her own heart warm with those same first beginnings. She didn't know what to say; at a loss, for the first time in her public life, gazing into the eyes of the man who would soon be her whole world.

He might have been happy to stay there, gazing into those lovely blue eyes of hers, if it were not for the fact that time was pressing. They were expected back at the capital city by sundown, and it would be slow going with both of them riding the same horse. "We should have something to eat and be on our way," he said, regretfully, though in a few days, she would be his, and he would have all the time in the world to lose himself in those pale blue orbs.

She felt almost the same way, her heart quickening at the gentle way he held her hand still, even as he startled her back to the reality of the day ahead. "Oh ....oh, yes, of course," she laughed a little at her own distraction, turning her head to look over at her companion. "Lady Bryant, would you see if the noon meal is prepared?"

Despite the older woman's disapproving glance, she rose, curtseying to them both before she left the room to do as she was asked. Marianne looked back to Stephan, and quite suddenly asked the one question that had been playing on her mind. "Is it true that in Pomerania the consummation of the marriage must be performed in front of the court?"

Stephan's smile disappeared once again when she asked that question. It had been something that had been worrying him, too, but he'd had enough time to give it some thought and thought he might have arrived at a solution or, at the very least, a compromise. "Appalling, isn't it?" he asked, with obvious distaste. "You would think those of royal blood would be trusted to....to do their duty without witnesses. To be honest, I'm not sure how anyone can be expected to....to perform under such conditions."

The horror in her eyes was stark as he confirmed what she considered to be her worst fear. It would be frightening enough to be a maid on her wedding night, without knowing all those strangers would be watching and waiting to congratulate the prince on consummating that marriage right in front of them. "I-I do not think I can do it," she confessed in a breathless rush, not wanting to disappoint him, but truly terrified by the prospect.

"Nor do I," he admitted, not only sympathizing but agreeing with her, as well. He darted a glance at the door where her maid had disappeared to check on the noon meal before leaning closer and lowering his voice, for her ears alone. "I have a plan," he whispered, a sly smile stealing over his features beneath the short beard.

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:53 EST

Reassured that he was not exactly thrilled by the idea himself, she found herself inching a little closer, enclosing his hand between both her own. His smile seemed to confuse her for a moment, despite the echo that rose on her own face. "A plan?"

"Mmhmm," he murmured back, an almost mischievous smile playing his lips, blue eyes sparkling playfully. If they wanted confirmation, he'd give them confirmation, but not quite the way they wanted it. He opened his mouth again to share with her the plan that he'd concocted when they were interrupted by the arrival of a few servants with the noon meal, and he slid away to a more discreet distance with a slightly annoyed scowl on his face. Yes, he wanted to eat, but the timing couldn't have been worse.

Ambassador Chappel entered on the heels of the servants, Lady Bryant by his side, making no mention of how close the Crown Prince and Princess Royal had been in the split second before they parted. "Your Highness," he bowed to them both once again. "If we may, we should like to join you for this meal before we take horse once more."

The scowl disappeared from Stephan's face, the carefully guarded expression of the Crown Prince back in place almost immediately. "Yes, of course," he replied, adding for both of them, "We would be honored to have you join us." Even though he would have preferred to have her all to himself, he knew better than to refuse the ambassador or her lady.

Though Stephan and Marianne might still have been wading the awkward depths of a first conversation, needing to find a little common ground before they could truly relax in one another's company, between the ambassador and Lady Bryant, there was no end of merry conversation as they ate together. The time passed quickly enough, until the bells for two began to ring. The princess was whisked away by her lady to be wrapped up warm against the chill of the weather, leaving the prince and the ambassador together once again.

Chappel very carefully wasn't smiling. "How do you find the lady, your highness?"

Stephan was reassembling himself as well, though there was much less to do to get himself ready for the short journey than there was for the princess. He threw the fur-lined cloak back over his shoulders and fastened it at his neck. There was very little else he needed to do, but wait. "How do you mean, Rowland?" he asked, wondering just what exactly the ambassador wanted to know. "She pleases me, if that is what worries you."

"That is the thrust of my question, yes," Chappel chuckled gently. "You seemed well pleased with one another, in my humble opinion." He was trying to ascertain if the princess was likely to be sent home, though he doubted that would be the case even if the pair had hated one another on sight.

Stephan sighed impatiently. He didn't need the ambassador to spell it out for him; he knew what he was trying to get at. "You needn't worry, Ambassador. I have no intentions of sending her home. It is difficult to judge when we have only just met, but I believe she will make a fine wife and mother," he told the other man, a little perturbed at having to answer such a question, though he knew the man was only doing his job.

"My apologies, your highness," Chappel bowed as he spoke. "It must be asked, I fear, and now it has been, the question will not again arise." He glanced up at the sound of the door above opening once again, and almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of the Princess Royal of Francia actually smacking Lady Bryant's hand away from the clasp of her cloak with a quiet laugh.

"I'm sorry, Rowland," Stephan echoed the man's apology with a remorseful frown, about to explain why he was on edge when the sound of the door drew his attention, as well, and he following the ambassador's gaze to the stairs. Stephan chuckled quietly and elbowed his old friend lightly to gain his attention. "She's a spirited one, that one. She only needs a little reassurance. Someone to believe in her."

"It is good to know that the child she was has not been lost," the ambassador agreed, his smile warm both for the prince and for the young princess. He nodded to the prince, stepping away as Marianne descended the stairs. Her cloak was blue velvet, as simple as the rest of her garb, her hands protected by soft leather gloves. She curtseyed once again to Stephan, a smile in her eyes if not evident on her face.

"At your order, your highness."

He plucked up his gloves from where he'd left them on the mantel and pulled them onto his hands. "I am at your service, my lady," he replied, returning her curtsey with a small bow.

"I understand we are to ride together," she said softly, as Chappel escorted Lady Bryant outside to take their places in the retinue assembled. "How far is it to the city?"

"Not far," he replied, offering her his hand, palm downward in a courtly fashion. It seemed a little silly to worry about courtly manners in light of the fact that in a few short minutes, they would be settled closely together atop his horse to ride a few miles through the countryside and into the capital, but it was what was expected of them.

Her gloved hand laid lightly atop his as she smiled, her eyes bright at the prospect of seeing the great city of Berengaria for herself. "And I am to be presented to the High King?" she asked as they followed their escort into the bitter sunshine. A groom stood by the prince's white stallion, the saddle already changed. Just as his mother had said, it had been modified, made longer to more comfortably accommodate two riders in close quarters.

"Yes," Stephan replied again, a man of few words when it came to certain things. There was no need for an explanation really, though he knew she must be nervous and worrying what was expected of her as his betrothed. "Don't worry. My father will love you, and my mother is going to adore you. She never had a daughter, and she's anxious to meet you."

"I hope I do not disappoint her," she admitted quietly, falling silent as the groom stepped forward to help her mount. Side saddle was never the most comfortable of positions in the first place, and Marianne had not ridden on the same horse as anyone else since she was a child of five.She sat with her back painfully straight, a little startled by the sheer height of the horse on which she was now mounted, looking down at Stephan hopefully.

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:53 EST

To his credit, the horse stood quiet and still, patiently waiting until his master gave the signal that they were to be on their way. He was the Crown Prince's favorite horse, big and white and handsome - the one he took into battle because he trusted him more than any other, and the one who he rode simply for pleasure, though he had a whole livery of horses to choose from. Stephan waited until the princess was safely settled on the saddle before climbing up behind her, arms going around her to take hold of the reins. It was an awkward position for them both to be in, not only because it was uncomfortable but uncomfortably close.

For a girl who had not been embraced by anyone but her father for many years, it was a heart-stopping moment when Stephan's arms slipped about her from behind. She hadn't known that it was possible to be so acutely aware of so many things in an instant - the solid warmth of him at her back, the almost protective cradle of his arms about her waist, even the gentle heat of his breath against her temple as she glanced back at him. Color flooded her cheeks once again as she looked forward, every man in the guard that had accompanied them only awaiting the prince's command to begin their ride back to Berengaria.

Whatever it was she was feeling, he felt it too, acutely aware of her closeness, of the soft press of her body near his, the scent of her filling his senses. She was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss; close enough to notice the cornflower blue of her eyes and the hint of rose in her cheeks, wondering if that was because of him or merely the cold. Was it silly to want someone so much when they had only just met' Or was it merely wishful thinking" He sat there silently, lost in his own thoughts, until at last he remembered himself, aware that every eye was on him - on them - awaiting his command. "Let's be off," he said, with a wave of his hand ushering his men forward.

With the clatter of hooves against stone, the retinue began, the sharp sound deadening as they gained the packed earth of the road. Marianne was silent for a long while - long enough to recognize the ache in her back from attempting to sit so very straight and dare to relax back into the warm body sat so snug behind her. "A shame, is it not, that we cannot simply gallop ahead and enjoy the ride?"

He was observant enough to notice how she was straining to keep as much distance between them as she could, and he knew she was only going to pay for it later with an aching back. He leaned his head forward, about to suggest she relax when she surprised him with that question. Arching a brow down at her, he smiled, blue eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. "Who says we can't?"

The mischievous smile he had noted when they had first spoken showed itself in the sparkle of her eyes at his reply, the twitch of her lips into a curve that begged to be kissed, if only for a brief moment. With a quiet giggle in her voice, she answered him in kind. "Then perhaps we should, your - ....Stephan."

"Mmm," he replied thoughtfully, looking over at their retinue and wondering if it was such a good idea. "Perhaps for a little bit," he said, knowing they wouldn't be able to get too far ahead without causing a minor panic among the guards. He turned to the man riding at his right-hand side. "We're going a little way ahead. Stay with the group. We'll stay within sight."

"Aye, your highness," the man nodded, passing the word back among the others who rode with them. So long as their royal selves stayed within sight, there was no need to fear, and this stretch of the road was clear for at least a couple of miles ahead of them. Marianne's smile grew brighter, betraying her private love of riding, something she had not been permitted to do alone for more than a decade.

"It's a little awkward, but just try to relax," he told her, leaning close and lowering his voice, for her ears only. The hell with protocol. They were going to be married soon anyway. So long as he was careful not to do anything stupid, what harm could come from a little gallop ahead"

She nodded, unable to completely hide her bright smile as she shifted, hooking her knee tighter about the high pommel of the saddle, one gloved hand curling into the beautiful horse's mane in anticipation. "I will try," she promised faithfully, the promise of even a brief gallop enough to ease a little of the awkwardness from her posture.

He noticed how she curled her fingers tighter into the horse's mane, a strange pang of jealousy stabbing at his heart to know the horse was privy to her touch, but he was not - at least, not yet. His thoughts were suddenly flooded by a dozen different things he wanted to tell her, but not here - not with all those eyes watching them, guarding them, curious and prying and protective. He tugged on the reins, his arms moving to wrap a little more tightly about her so that she wouldn't fall and kicked the horse into a gallop, straight up a hill where the view of the countryside spread out beneath them.

Where other women of her rank might have squealed in alarm, or even screamed, at the sudden acceleration of the noble beast beneath them, Marianne merely gasped with delight, though in truth the sound was more for the wrap of Stephan's arms about her than any fear of falling. The chill wind whipped into her face, brightening her cheeks with the cold as she held on tight, laughing with true enjoyment of the sudden exhilaration of speed, glad she had resisted the attempts of Lady Bryant to dress her hair long for today, at least. There was no heavy length of chestnut to whip into Stephan's face as they rode to the crest of the hill; only the gentle motion of her frame virtually in his lap, bouncing with the horse's long stride.

It was almost like a sweet kind of torture how close she was to him and yet so far. He found himself longing to touch her, to undo her hair and let it fall softly about her shoulders; to run his fingers through the soft silken strands; to touch her blushing cheek and kiss those tempting lips. Soon, he told himself. Soon, they would be wed, and then, she would be his. The wind whipped at his hair as they crested the hill, his heart beating as hard as the horse's hooves against the ground, or so it seemed. "There," he said, reining the horse in as they reached the top of the hill. "Lovely, isn't it?" he asked, though his eyes were on her, rather than the view.

Breathless as much from the unknown excitement of being so close to him as from the pounding rush to the crest of the hill, Marianne made no attempt to disguise how bright and open her smile was as she looked down over the countryside, to the city still some miles away and the castle that rose above it. "It is truly beautiful," she happily agreed with him, enchanted by this first view of the capital city that was the heartland of her new home. "Thank you, your highness." She twisted just a little, just enough to look up at him, showing off the merry sparkle in her eyes above her smile as her gaze met his and held there, feeling a flush of longing she did not quite recognize as her fingers itched to brush the wayward curls from his brow.

Marianne · Date: 2014-12-20 20:54 EST

He returned her gaze, knowing they only had a few minutes before their retinue caught up with them and the opportunity would pass them by for a brief stolen moment. "You needn't fear me, Marianne," he told her quietly, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. "I promise I will never give you cause to fear me."

"I do not fear you, Stephan," she promised him softly, her voice husky with breathless joy. "I fear only our wedding night, the eyes of so many strangers on a moment that should not be for the general consumption of the court."

There it was again - the fear she'd mentioned earlier before they'd been interrupted. He'd been robbed of the chance to tell her his plan then, but there was no one here to rob him of that chance now - at least, not until their retinue caught up with them. "You are so lovely," he said quietly, daring to brush a stray wisp of hair from her face.

For some reason unknown to her, the breath fled her body once again as his gloved fingers brushed her face, the longing she couldn't name dominant in her eyes as she looked into his. "As are you," she breathed, soft and certain, only to realize what she had said. "That is to say that you are handsome, and kind, and ....and every wonderful thing I had not dared hope for."

"I can only hope you still think so once you know me better," he said, with a soft but almost sad smile on his face. She had to know that he wasn't just a prince; he was a soldier, a leader of men in battle. The fingers that had caressed her face had also caressed a sword, not long ago, and shed the blood of countless men who would never see seeing their wives or mothers or sweethearts again. There was no doubt it had been necessary, and yet, it haunted him a little. "Do you trust me, Princess?"

The sadness in his smile brought a tiny pucker to rest between her brows, a barely perceptible outward sign of the concern that was suddenly so dominant in her eyes. She did not quite dare to ask about it, but here, where the only eyes to see were still far enough away that no detail could be discerned, she dared something else. Gently, she caught his hand in hers, pressing her lips to his gloved palm in a startlingly bold kiss for such an innocent young woman. "With all I am, I trust you, my lord."

He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve her, but he wasn't going to argue about it, touched by the brief display of affection, even through his gloved hand. She was a gentle thing, delicate as a bird, but with an inner strength she seemed barely aware of. And courageous to accept him and trust him, though she barely knew him. "When the time comes, do as I say, and all will be well," he told her, daring to tip her chin up to face him and brush a tender but very brief kiss against her lips.

The softest sound of surprise escaped her as his lips touched her own, muffled in a brief kiss that set her heart pounding in her chest. How could she not trust him, this man who had shown her more interest, more kindness, in an hour than her own mother had shown her in a lifetime" He had stolen her breath once again, but she didn't begrudge him the rise and fall of her chest as she ventured a small, shy smile in answer to his kiss. "I will, Stephan," she promised him faithfully, his name slowly growing more comfortable on her tongue the more she used it.

He surprised even himself with that kiss, setting his own heart pounding in his chest. His lips parted reluctantly from hers, his breath mingling with hers, as the wind stirred their hair, the sound of hoof-beats drawing slowly closer. He did not love her yet, but there was the hope and the promise of a future love in her eyes, in her touch, in her words, and her kiss. He would not have them be like his parents or hers. He would show her kindness, tenderness, gentleness. He would care for her and cherish her and protect her, so long as he lived, but those were words for another day, when they had more time. "Sweet Marianne," he said quietly, a soft smile beneath the short beard.

It was only the sound of their retinue finally catching up to them that broke the tender intimacy of the gaze they shared, a flicker of impatient irritation crossing her eyes at the jangle of harness and thump of hooves intruding on the quiet Stephan had gathered her into. But there was time. She had a lifetime to nurture the softness of feeling that swelled in her breast until it kindled into a flame, certain that she would love Stephan of the House Hasperan no matter what the future would bring to them.

"Your Highness," Ambassador Chappel spoke up as he gained the crest of the hill. "Shall we continue?"

Stephan, too, seemed lost in that moment, lost in thoughts and hopes for the future, lost in the gaze of a woman he was only just learning but thought he could love. "Yes," he replied to the ambassador, with a small smile on his lips, though his gaze never left her face. "Yes, I think we shall," he repeated, taking up the reins again to continue onward to bring his future bride home.

To a city that welcomed her with open arms, the sound of the people's cheers deafening in the winter chill, and finally to the presence of the High King Philippe, and his Queen, who vowed before all their people to love her as a daughter. Now all that remained was for his Holiness, the Dalai of the Church of the Goddess, to arrive, and the long-sought alliance between Pomerania and Francia would be assured. Not to mention the beginning of what promised to be a fine alliance between the prince and his chosen consort. Politics rarely ran so smoothly as this; it was a blessing on Stephan that his first decision to affect both the realm and himself held so much promise. A promise that his princess, at least, intended to keep.