Awkward Beginnings
"My queen! Please, don't run!"
Manon completely disregarded the pleas of her new lady's maid as she rushed across the deck of the airship, heading towards the foremast. She was already pulling up her skirts before she even reached the pole, preparing for the long climb to the top.
She had been queen for only a few months. She tried to take the role seriously and to follow her mother's example in her duties with the way she carried herself and how she behaved and talked in her day to day life. But there were times that she couldn't help but want to run free and be herself. The bratty, wild child that had run her parents ragged in her youth was still there, even if Manon had forcibly buried her down under responsibilities that she had willingly taken on.
It was good to let her free, even if climbing the foremast of her private airship meant that her oldest lady's maid fretted a bit.
They were approaching Ambraude, and Manon wanted to get a glimpse of her home from the air. It wasn't the first time she had approached the city by airship, but it was the first time that she was going to be seeing it in a time of peace.
The last few years had been hard. Not just on her home country of Vasconia, but on this new country she had married into, Gascony. War had raged between the two countries that, historically, had always been friendly. Thousands had died. So many homes had been destroyed. By both armies. And it had all ended here, just a few short months ago.
Manon climbed into the nest at the top of the mast and leaned onto the rail, staring forward as the wind whipped through her hair.
Ambraude was a beautiful city built atop the stunning Amber Cliffs that were constantly beat upon by the bright, blue sea. The city was built in a series of rings that became brighter in color and slightly different in style the further they were from the palace as they had all been constructed at different times.
Her home since her marriage just a few months ago when the war ended. It hadn't ended with her marriage, but the vows she had taken solidified it. Made her queen. She was returning now from her brother's wedding and the coronation of his own queen in Vasconia.
Now that the loving siblings sat on the thrones, peace was practically guaranteed.
It seemed so unreal. Manon had planned for this. She had orchestrated it herself. Somehow though, it still seemed impossible that she was queen.
Or that she was married.
Manon's wedding day was a blur in her memories. She barely remembered it. She knew that she had gone through all the traditional motions. Stripping down to nothing but a robe. Repeating her vows to her husband. Accepting the coat that he put on her shoulders in the way of Gascony. A tradition she continued to follow though she hadn't seen her husband in weeks. When she left Gascony, he had sent her with multiples coats of his for her to wear. And though it wasn't part of the culture of Vasconia, she had done it.
It was one of the few requests she made of her. In Gascony, men offered their coats first to their wives, then their daughters after they began bleeding. Their daughters wore their father's coat until they married, then they would wear their husband's coat. It was both a sign of protection and love as well as a reminder to the men that they had to sacrifice to protect their women. Better for a man to suffer the cold than his woman.
Jacques, her husband and king, had made the request that she wear his coat, though it wasn't really done in Vasconia. She didn't know if he did it because he genuinely wanted her to wear his coat or because he didn't want the stigma associated with a man that didn't properly protect his wife. They had agreed to be progressive in how they ruled Gascony, but that was a tradition that he wanted to maintain with her. She hadn't minded either, even if it had taken some time to get used to it over her shoulders. Even now, as the wind caught it, she had to resist the urge to remove the weight. She didn't want to offend Jacques that way, even if she knew that he would say he didn't mind.
Honestly, she hadn't seen much of her husband since their wedding. Which was both a problem and a relief.
A relief because Manon wasn't entirely sure she was ready to go to bed with him. They had been raised as cousins when they were young, but then had separated for so many years that they didn't even recognize each other when they met by happenstance a few years ago. She didn't see her young cousin when she looked at the man he had become. They barely ever saw each other back then anyway, and when they did, his insane mother never liked them to play together. She had married a man that was practically a stranger and it was odd to think about giving her body to him.
But that was a problem because they needed an heir.
Jacques was a bastard. He was not actually her cousin by blood. He had been born by the rape of his mother instead of coming from her uncle's loins. Manon had the true birthright to his throne. But he had been the one raised to take it. Their union was a perfect combination that satisfied the law, ensured peace, and didn't seem to the Gascony citizens like a foreign princess coming to steal the throne.
But to make sure that their claim remained strong, that their peace would endure, Manon needed to produce his legitimate child.
Something that was hard to do considering their various duties trying to save a kingdom that had been decimated by war constantly pulled them apart. One or both of them was always working late and there were times Manon had gone days without seeing him. For their comfort, they had their own rooms that were connected by a door, and the separation made it easy to miss him in the few scant hours of sleep they managed to steal.
Then, just as it seemed they were finally starting to get things under control, Jacques had insisted she attend her brother's wedding and her sister-in-law's coronation as queen. Not just because they were family and loved her and she wanted to be there, but because a peaceful visit to their enemy would be a good thing. Thanks to that, she hadn't seen her husband at all in weeks.
Manon bit her lip, nervous as they approached the palace. There was an airship hanger built at the top for the royal ship, the one she was on. It meant she could land in the city without going to the public docks and being enclosed meant rain couldn't even touch them. It wasn't their idea. They had inherited the system. But it was a good one considering that Manon was not well liked.
Jacques, despite being a known bastard, was still the prince his people had been raised to expect as king. He helped rally and protect his people during the war when his mother's madness nearly killed too many innocents. He commanded the rebel armies that had helped take the city from her in the final battle of the war and place Jacques and Manon on the throne.
The people loved their king.
They were less enthused about their queen.
Jacques did not fight her claim as the true heir. Though he had been eager to marry her, thereby earning his crown legitimately, the people couldn't help but see her as a foreign princess. Not even a foreign queen. Her detractors specifically called her 'the foreign princess'.
It would probably be more insulting if that wasn't exactly how Manon felt.
Soft grunts turned Manon's eyes as someone climbed up the mast after her. Not using the ropes as she had done. The tiny, blonde girl was climbing the mast itself with all apparent ease. Manon turned forward again as she stepped to the side, making room for Amorette.
Her personal paladin. One that had refused to swear herself to her king in Vasconia and instead had sworn herself to Manon and followed her here when she became queen of Gascony.
A life of malnourishment had stunted Amorette's growth. She was short. But her body had filled out with beautiful curves since she had become a paladin. She was tiny but beautiful. She also had a perpetual smile on her face that she flashed at Manon as she dropped down beside her in the nest. She wore pants instead of skirts. Usually because Amorette could often be found climbing and jumping high in the air with her incredible strength.
"The view up here is great," she said in lieu of a greeting as she looked forward. "Home, sweet home. Are you excited to be back?"
Manon hummed noncommittally.
"I know, I am. I really missed Cupid while we were gone. I wished he could have come with us."
Manon hummed again.
Amorette gave her a smile. "Bidaude doesn't like you being up here."
"Bidaude is a nervous wreck. She doesn't like me looking sideways at anything that might even have a hint of danger."
Amorette laughed appreciatively. "Yeah, she's an anxious sort. Doesn't help that she's heading back to Gascony. I bet she thought she'd never return here."
Bidaude was one of a trio of sisters - by heart not blood - that Manon had asked to be her lady's maids. A long time ago. Back when Manon had been punished by being sent to the Aqua Isles, the same place where the three of them had been hiding and healing after a terrible time in Gascony, she had met and befriended them.
The three of them were women that were identified as paladins in Gascony. Only, in Gascony, paladins were considered unnatural women with unholy gifts that needed to be punished. Severely and inhumanely. The three of them had been found by Nina, the new queen of Gascony and Manon's new sister, when she herself had been captured in Gascony. The three of them had suffered pure torture by the priests of the northern nation while imprisoned. Nina adopted them as her sisters, gave the three her name since their own families disowned them, and sent them down to her home in the Aqua Isles, which was a land that seemed to be a perfect combination of Gascony and Vasconian cultures.
When Manon met them there, she had asked them to be her lady's maids. They had asked her for some time to accept the offer, allowing the youngest of them, Nellie, to grow a bit more. She allowed it, but received no answer by the time she left the Aqua Isles. She had taken that silence as a no and didn't pester them further. However, they had come to Vasconia to attend Nina's wedding and while there had finally accepted her offer.
Manon warned them that she was queen of Gascony now and that, by accepting, they would have to follow her back to the country that surely haunted their nightmares. She told them that she had not made that offer thinking she would be queen one day. Promised that she never wanted their misery in that place.
But they had insisted.
Nellie had been a child when she went through her ordeal. She wanted to prove to Gascony that paladin women weren't evil incarnate. Bidaude wanted a chance to reconcile with her family. And Adilla, who Manon didn't think was a paladin at all, wanted to face her fears and her past. They had their own reasons for returning and were determined to see it through.
Manon admired them for it and so didn't reject their offer. However, Bidaude had been left with anxious scars from her time imprisoned and Manon being reckless made her nervous. Climbing to the top of a mast definitely qualified as reckless.
"Want to get some practice in before we land?" Amorette asked in her upbeat, bubbly tone.
Manon nodded but took a moment to stare at the approaching city for just a minute more before starting to climb down. She was about halfway to the deck when Amorette threw herself over the rail and fell freely, landing without even a grunt of effort.
The two of them walked together back to Manon's room for privacy. She had her new lady's maids finish packing and preparing her belongings to be brought back into the palace in order to keep them busy. She might let them in on her secret soon, but she wasn't ready as yet.
Manon's room in the ship was opulent and large. A part of a suite that included two other rooms that, at the moment were empty since she was traveling alone. She locked the main door into the suite as well the one leading into the empty room that they walked into. The windows in the room, though they looked out at nothing but open air, were covered in thick drapes casting the room into deep shadow that was alleviated with a single lamp.
"Let's keep this simple for now," Manon said, facing her in their dark, secret room.
The secret she guarded could absolutely not be allowed to get out.
"Ready," Amorette said, her hands held out in front of her. Palm of one hand facing up, the other palm hovering over it. She had pressed them so close together that there was only enough space for Manon to barely shove her fingers through.
She was starting her smaller than normal.
Manon took a breath and began forcing her hand into the small space. Amorette, with all her great strength, couldn't be moved without her wanting it to happen. Her hands remained the exact same distance apart as Manon forced her hand, her wrist, then her arm, through the tiny space.
It was still something she had trouble believing, but she couldn't deny what was happening right in front of her eyes.
Manon was a paladin as well.
She had only found out recently. The Master of the Sacellum in Vasconia, Gael, had told her his suspicions. She hadn't really believed him at the time, but she had begun testing by herself and training with Amorette, who she could trust with her secret, and she couldn't really deny it. She didn't always use Amorette to practice on. Sometimes, she used bricks or pieces of wood. Anything that could create a space too small for her to, realistically, push herself through.
But she always did.
Manon had always known herself to be flexible. She had even been aware, in a smaller way than now, that she was really good at squeezing herself through tight spaces. She used to sneak out of the palace in Vasconia through a tiny crack that, according to everyone else, no one should be able to force themselves through. It just wasn't possible. Anyone could have pointed that out to her, but she had been so excited to find a way to get out without being seen that she deliberately never brought anyone's attention to the escape route, so no one ever brought her strangeness to her attention.
At least, not until she had demonstrated her power to Gael, accidentally, and he immediately told her that she was doing the impossible.
Since then, she had been trying to practice. To hone the skill.
She was flexible, capable to pulling her joints in directions they weren't supposed to go only to have them snap back into position with all apparent ease. No pain, no damage. It created a strange pressure on her limbs that she knew to be her body stretching beyond the bounds of what was normal, but it wasn't difficult to bear. She could fit her body into tiny cracks. Her head seemed to be her limit. The rest of her body, including her chest, could shrink down to as thin as a moderately thick book, but her head seemed limited to only about half its size.
Though, it hadn't started out that way. Like any other physical activity, she was getting better as she practiced and stretched and pushed her limits. She didn't know exactly how small she could get herself since her limit seemed to be getting smaller every week.
Amorette, the paladin sworn to her, kept her expression blank as Manon forced herself to bend through her grasp. Up her arm. Past her elbow. Approaching her shoulder.
Then, after that arm, she turned and did the same to the other. Her limbs could smash down further than her torso and head. Which could be useful for reaching into small places, but she was limited in where her entire body could go by her skull.
As far as paladin powers went, it was one of the more... disturbing to see.
It was Manon's own body, her own ability, and it was still oddly nauseating to watch. Her eyes almost wanted to cross the further up her arm Amorette's hands moved because looking at it just seemed so wrong. She had to force her body into these small space, past the point of comfort. And it wasn't without effort. The result was disturbing. Almost offensive to the eyes.
It was only because someone had pointed out what she was doing that she even realized that she could force herself to get smaller. To push herself further. If Manon were anyone else, even as a princess, she would have been put through a test to prove herself a paladin, then she would have taken her place among a group of new sisters and served the kingdom with pride and honor.
But her Lord given power hadn't been discovered until quite recently. Until she had already decided to become the queen of a country that would revile her for those powers.
Now, though she wanted to practice and learn, it was a shameful secret that only Amorette and her husband knew of.
At the thought of her husband, a strange fluttering started in Manon's belly. As it usually did when she was reminded of the man she was now tied to for life. A man that she still barely knew, despite being married to for months.
They barely spent time together. They were constantly working, kept separate rooms, and neither of them had showed any initiative to change their strange relationship. They presented an absolute united front in front of others. He had been there to see her off, making every effort to show his people that she was valued as his queen and partner.
But it was the partner part that Gascony really had a problem with.
Not only was Manon a foreign princess taking over, but she was helping change the laws so that her position was equal to her husband. More like Vasconia. Nothing like Gascony. She had Jacques' absolute support, but no one else's.
Something that she was firmly reminded of when, later, after returning to the deck, she looked out over her new home city and saw protesters shouting angrily at her return milling about the palace gates.
Ambraude was a city built atop a cliff that abutted the sea. The walls that separated the various levels of the city had been erected each time the populace had outgrown the previous wall. The innermost wall, the smallest one protecting the very top of the cliff, shielded the palace from the rest of the city and it was there that those who hated her most gathered.
Her airship sailed smoothly over, but she couldn't help but frown as she looked over the edge at her citizens as they wished death and destruction upon her.
Only her.
Jacques, though he was completely supportive of her and represented the same changes in values as her, didn't suffer his people's wrath. If anything, it seemed that her detractors had determined that she was either corrupting or ensorcelling him.
The idea of herself as a seductive enchantress was even more hilarious when she considered the fact that they had shared only a single, chaste kiss at their wedding ceremony and any physical affection since then had been completely surface level and performative.
"Is it always like this, do you think?"
The furtive whisper turned Manon's attention from over the railing to her lady's maids who were standing only a few steps away. The middle aged Bidaude, with her mostly gray hair pulled back into a severe bun at the base of her neck had her arms around the much shorter Nellie, the young girl who stood in front of her, just barely tall enough to look over the railing, her dirty blonde hair swirling around her shoulders, and stood next to Adilla, a girl just a bit older than Manon, who kept fidgeting, pushing back her short cut, light brown hair.
The three of them rarely went anywhere without each other. They had been a singular unit for so long, they didn't seem to know how to operate independently anymore. Manon wanted to help encourage them to be apart, to move on from their trauma, while they were here with her. She wasn't going to push it anytime soon, however.
Especially now that they were seeing the mess they had volunteered to follow her into.
"Don't worry," Amorette said, smiling at her side. "I'll protect them. I won't let anything happen to any of you."
Manon gave her a grateful smile as they crossed over the royal courtyards. The protesters were now hidden from sight behind the high walls, though she could still hear their angry calls. Those who walked around below were palace servants. If they weren't loyal to the cause, then they were so good at hiding that they weren't that no one had been able to pick them out yet.
Manon and Jacques knew that the changes they were forcing were going to make them unpopular with the more conservative, traditional crowds. To keep their home, at the very least, safe, every servant from the castle steward to the lowest messenger runner were carefully vetted and investigated. When they had taken over the palace, more than half the staff had been let go.
Admittedly, that probably hadn't helped foster good opinions, but it was that or run the risk of being woken with a knife through the throat.
"Here we go," Manon mumbled to herself as the shadow of the royal airship hanger fell over her head. She turned from the railing, nervously adjusting her skirt and hair. She knew she looked beautiful today. Bidaude and Adilla were both very fashionable and highly talented when it came to hair and make up.
But even when she knew she looked the part, she never truly felt like a queen.
Going to meet her king actually made it worse, because Jacques always seemed exactly like a king. Even when he had only been helping rebel malcontents in a city made of tents, he carried himself with a certain regal bearing that commanded attention and respect. His people responded to him, they loved him, and he gave them his full attention and time.
He was older than her by only a year, but he already seemed so much more responsible and mature. It was probably the difference in position. Manon was the second child, and she completely supported her brother as crown prince of Vasconia. She never imagined herself taking that throne and no one ever treated her as if she might.
Jacques, however, always knew that he was going to take the Gasconite throne. Even when he suspected, and then had it confirmed, that he wasn't the former king's son by blood, he was still faithful to his father's desire to have him rule Gascony.
Meanwhile, Manon had spent most of her childhood earning the title of Palace Brat. She snuck out whenever possible, at one point she was running a large scale gambling ring, and she frequently got in trouble with her father, not as his daughter but as a princess to her king. To the point that, once, he had been forced to banish her to the Aqua Isles. The very place she met her new lady's maids that she was bringing back with her.
She had been trained in climbing, spying, military code, and pain resistance by the shadow paladin. She had been taught to hide daggers on her person that she wielded with deadly efficiency by an older man that pretended to be her dance instructor. She had been taught lying by another paladin who had invented an entirely different personality to face the world and, using her tutelage, had crafted her own false persona that she still used to this day.
Compared to the steady, sturdy, and responsible Jacques, she felt like a tavern wench who happened to be good at stabbing people.
He was waiting for her down there. She didn't need to see him to know that he was there. He had promised to meet her when she left and he was a man of his word. He wanted to make sure that everyone saw how devoted he was to his queen. Even if the only people working in the palace anymore were those either supportive or neutral to their rule, they still had family and friends they talked to in the city and he wanted word to spread.
Manon adjusted her skirt, adjusted her hair, for him. To try to project the image of the queen that he and Gascony deserved. The queen she knew she was not.
She could fake an entire personality, she could fake that as well.
~~~~~~
Jacques stood at on the exit platform inside the wide open space of the royal hanger, one hand clasping his other wrist behind his back, head held tall, shoulders straight and proud, trying to be worthy of the golden circlet that decorated his brow.
Of the queen that was coming to meet him.
Jacques had been young when his father died. His real father. Not the sire who raped his mother and commanded this war he was cleaning up after that had been started in her name. King Robert had been a good man that had done his best to raise Jacques despite having a wife that, at the same moment, loved and hated, adored and resented the son she had carried in her body. But he had been lost when Jacques hadn't even begun puberty. Not only had he been unprepared to lead but, legally, he wasn't even allowed to lead.
Instead, a council of nobles had gathered as his mother was a queen and, as the law in Gascony stated, a woman could not rule without a king or council at her side. That was one of the many laws that he and Manon still had yet to change.
That situation was only supposed to have lasted until Jacques was of an age to take over. The crown should have become his when he became a man.
But taking power from a group of greedy old men was like trying to take a cloud from the sky. And it was made that much more impossible when the queen who should have been overseeing them had gone mad with grief while the general of the country, the very man who raped her and sired Jacques, was set on waging a war in a misguided attempt to restore her sanity. A war that Jacques had openly protested and, in so doing, had made General Firmin more determined that he not take the crown.
Being barred from what was his by right and by law, he had instead turned his attentions to rallying the people. Protecting them from the senseless war. Gathering them and solidifying his power base. Seeing to the arrangement of a marriage between himself and a beautiful, foreign princess that technically had the crown he wanted by birthright and was only prevented from taking because she remained unmarried.
So, he married her.
By her request. With his absolute support of her plan.
But Manon was incredible and he felt like he was constantly playing catch up.
She was a natural born leader, even when she had never been expressly trained for it. She was used to bucking tradition and seeing better ways of doing things. She was determined to do the right thing, even when the cost of it was sneaking into an enemy country or being exiled so far from home that the culture completely changed around her.
Manon was completely different from any woman he knew. And not just because she was from a foreign country. He had met plenty of wives and daughters of Lloegyrian officials as they worked in Gascony while growing up. There was just something about her that was at once attractive and intimidating and attractive because it was intimidating.
Manon always had knives on her person. She had confessed as much to him in the spirit of being open and honest with each other as they worked together to reshape their country. She wanted him to know in case they were in danger and also so that she could pass on some of the lessons in hiding daggers that she had learned so he was never unarmed even when it appeared he was.
She was also great at talking to people. She could turn on this bright, bubbly, social personality with the ease of flipping a lever and instantly transform herself into this happy and eager young woman that seemed just a bit naïve and simplistic that was just as much a weapon as her hidden daggers. And she did it so well that no one thought to question it.
She stood firm in the face of the negativity spit at her. She didn't falter and hesitate or doubt any of the choices that led her here. She was steadfast in her determination and devout in her mission and he honestly believed she had the ability to rule this kingdom without him if she wished. She had married him to gain his supporters to his side as much as she had done it to honor her uncle's, his father's, wish of putting Jacques on the throne.
She was incredible. He was unworthy of her. He couldn't take his power back from his mother's council, but she managed to take her throne from them from across the border. He couldn't even protect her from the shouts of protesters across the wall.
Not for the first time, when she came into his view, standing atop the gangplank that led to his waiting feet, he was struck by her. But there was something different in her appearance today. She looked even better now than when she left.
The individual components of Manon's features were nothing breathtaking. Her lips weren't too big nor too small, but they did often have a secret smile tucked into their corners. Her hair was brown, and could probably be generously described as 'mousy', but it had been swept back from her head in an elegant knot then locked in place with long pins that he knew would double as weapons. She was neither short nor tall, but she carried herself with a confident stride that he often tried to match so he could at least stand beside her as someone who deserved to be there.
Perhaps her most striking feature must be her golden eyes. Vasconian royal eyes. A brown so light that it seemed to glow like burnished gold even in low light. Hers were framed with dark lashes and an aristocratic nose. Those eyes never missed a thing, even when they sparkled with mirth that was either real or faked.
Combined together, her features were worth more than the sum of the parts. She was beautiful in her simplicity and elegant in her bearing. It wasn't her features so much as her confidence, her grace, that made her stunning to watch.
His wife.
Not for the first time, that thought brought an aching pang of longing to his loins. And a cautious tightness to his chest.
He had promised her once that, once married, he would make all haste to get her with child to help stabilize their rule and relationship. However, the night they married, he had been unable to join her in her chambers. Or any night since.
It wasn't because of a lack of desire. Lord knew it wasn't that.
It was just...
When she had looked up at him that night of their wedding, for the first time since he had known her, there had been hesitation, uncertainty in her gaze. Her hands were steady and strong when she touched his chest in silent invitation and he knew without a doubt that she would have gone to their bed fully willingly. He would have even done everything in his, admittedly, limited experience to make it as pleasurable for her as it would have been for him.
But that uncertainty unmanned him completely.
He wanted his wife, but, more than that, he wanted his wife to want him in return. When he took her to bed, he wanted nothing in her eyes but burning desire and certainty. He didn't just want a queen and a partner. He wanted all of her.
It was a lot to ask. And he had no right to ask for any of it. But no matter how his body ached for her, whenever he might act on it, that look came back in her eyes and his desire shriveled away. She had such power over him with only a look.
He held out his hand for her to take as she came down the gangplank and immediately brought her fingers to his lips. He kissed her gloved knuckles, lingering over the action just a second longer than was considered appropriate, wishing that she had not bothered with the gloves so he could taste her bare skin.
"Welcome home, beloved," he said. He fully intended to pitch his voice loud enough for others to hear, but somehow it came out as an intimate whisper.
Manon rewarded him with a smile. A genuine one. There was a subtle difference between those that truly pulled at her lips and ones she put in place as a show. It was in her golden eyes and the way they sparkled and he knew he was one of the few that got to see it.
"Hello, my dear," she replied, speaking loud enough to be heard by the servants as they climbed the ship gangplank to get her belongings.
"How was the wedding?" He asked, tucking her hand into his arm, leading her away. He didn't have much time before duty called them apart, so he wanted to enjoy this while it lasted.
He listened, genuinely interested in her brother's wedding and the new Vasconian queen's crowning. He couldn't come. Not to say he wasn't invited, but Gascony was in too delicate a condition for them to leave it alone. Even just losing Manon had been a blow and he was exhausted from all the extra work he had to take on.
But seeing the smile on her face as she described the ceremony and exclaimed how happy she was for King Erec and Queen Nina made it all worth it. The fatigue and the stress faded away as she directed that smile towards him.
"Thank you," she said, leaning into him just a bit. "It meant so much to me that you let me go. I know I left you with a lot of work. I'm going to make it up to you, I promise."
"Nonsense. I was happy to do it."
She shook her head. "No. You sleep in tomorrow. Take the entire day off if you want. A few days even. I'll do everything myself."
He inclined his head. Not quite agreeing but expressing his understanding. He wasn't going to take the day off. His country was still on the verge of turmoil. There was no way that he was going to take an entire day much less multiple days. He might take the morning, however, just to keep her from feeling any potential guilt at how much he had to do without her.
Not that he would ever let her know. He would never tell her about the rebellion he had needed to squash and the city he had to reclaim from the traditionalists that had taken it over. It had been a short but bloody fight but restoring order had taken him three full days. He wouldn't tell her about the mob that had torn through the lower market before the traditionalist instigators had met the rebel progressives and the two had clashed in a violent explosion that led to four buildings burning, one of them to the ground, three dead, and dozens injured. He definitely wasn't going to mention the palace maid that had been discovered with a knife that she had hidden in anticipation of killing Manon, including the note she had planned to have on her body in case she was killed after succeeding that claimed Manon's life for the traditionalists.
He also wasn't going to mention that he woke early to do most of the tax revisions that they had agreed to work on together after she returned so she would have less to do.
Because Jacques was enchanted by his wife. He wanted to treat her so well that she would always know how much he appreciated her. So she never regretted being here. Because at the heart of it, beyond Manon's enchanting looks and interesting personality, even if she was as ugly as a half drowned rat and had all the personality of a wet wooden board, he would value her as though she were a precious jewel for what she gave him.
Peace for his people.
There was no greater gift he could imagine. By taking him as her husband, she had assured that his claim to his throne was legitimate, she made it so that his people had no reason to fear further retaliation from Vasconia, and she brought all the soldiers that survived the war and all the rebels that had fled it back home.
For that alone, Jacques would worship at her tiny feet. He would spend the rest of his life making sure she never doubted his loyalty or fidelity. He was lucky that she wasn't as ugly as a half drowned rat, but he would have taken no other but her regardless. And he would have loved her even if she were a dullard, but instead the Lord gifted him an upbeat and charming wife.
A queen that was eager to serve her people. A wife that would serve her duties to him as her husband despite her misgivings. A partner that he knew had the same goals as himself and he knew he could trust.
"What?" She asked as they stepped back into the halls of the palace.
He grinned at her. "Merely admiring, my beloved."
She chuckled as though he had told a joke. "I'm covered in travel dust and I'm sure my hair is a mess from the wind."
"Maybe and no. Your hair looks beautiful. The work of your new lady's maids?"
"Mm. Bidaude. You like?"
"Ravishing."
"Is it really?" She gave him a flirtatious look that heated his blood immediately. She looked like she had been practicing that look.
Had their time apart given her a new appreciation for him? Had seeing her brother enjoying wedded bliss made her eager to try it for herself?
He used the grip on her arm to pull her into his side, dropping his arm to her waist and holding her close without missing a step. She, however, looked surprised. She didn't fight him, because she would not, but her body stiffened slightly at his touch.
And he realized it was only his hope that made him think her flirtation was a genuine invitation. She was still playing for her crowd, though there was no one in the hallway but them. She had flirted because it was what her false personality would do. It was what a loving queen might do to her king when she returned from a long trip.
Even now, she was quick to fix a smile on her face. She might not have meant it as an invitation, but she also wouldn't reject him.
"Miss me, husband?" She asked, that hesitation still in her eyes, cooling his desire.
He gave her a sweet, flirtatious smile in return. "With all my heart, of course. These halls are empty without your laughter, my beloved."
The line, as he intended, made her laugh. The sweet, bell tones rang down the hall and warmed his heart as her unease left her eyes, convinced now that he hadn't meant the action any more seriously than her.
"Let's get you to your rooms so you can rest," he said, firmly reminding himself that he had his own duties to attend and he couldn't afford even half an hour to sink into his wife. She certainly deserved more than half an hour for their first time together.
"Nonsense," she waved his words away. "I've been doing nothing all day but sitting around. I'm well rested enough for work. What is left to do today?"
He had a feeling she would say that and he smiled at her. "Well, I've started on the tax revisions."
"Riveting stuff."
"The glory of ruling," he agreed, both of them chuckling. "I think your idea for lowering the tax rate on imported goods for the foreseeable future is a great idea."
"I actually got it from when I was working as an ambassador in Lloegyr. You know, they were helping supply Vasconia for most of the war. They offered us many things at substantially reduced prices and taxes. I thought it would be a good idea to apply here."
"My wife is so worldly," he praised. "I shall have to do my own traveling some day to catch up with your experience so I don't disappoint you."
"I have not been disappointed yet, dear husband," she chuckled, flicking his nose with a grin. "Now, show me these fascinating tax revisions."
~~~~~~
"Are you all right, Manon?" Amorette asked as she watched the young queen pace across the sitting room as she sat, sipping tea and nibbling on jam sandwiches.
"Huh?" So lost in her thoughts she was, Manon barely heard her.
"You've been pacing for almost half an hour," Amorette pointed out, chuckling. "I think you're wearing the rug thin right there."
Manon actually looked down at the rug – that was still whole and beautiful – before sighing, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Amorette, am I attractive?"
"Not to me, no." Amorette's immediate and guileless words weren't intended to be hurtful, nor were they meant as a jest. Amorette didn't really grasp sarcasm or rhetorical questions. She took Manon's question at face value and gave her honest truth in return.
And, strangely, that actually broke her from her reverie and made her laugh. "No, that's not... Amorette, I meant, do you think my husband finds me attractive?"
"Oh, why didn't you say that?"
"It's usually implied in that kind of question."
Amorette shrugged. "I can never keep up with your upper speech."
"I'll be sure to make myself more clear to you in the future," Manon said, stifling a chuckle as she crossed her arms over her belly. "So? The answer?"
"To? Oh! Does the king find you attractive. I mean, I guess?"
Manon's face fell. That was hardly the reassurance she wanted. But Amorette was more interested in picking another jam sandwich than seeing her reaction so she continued, unconcerned.
"I mean, I can't guess what he's thinking, but he does stare at you a lot and Cupid says that's a good sign that a man is interested. I think it's a good sign that you might be attacked, but, well, you are married and he seems nice enough, so Cupid is probably right. He's usually right about things like that. He's so smart. " Amorette smiled as she thought about her husband. The royal physician and the only person Manon would trust with her personal health in Gascony.
"Jacques stares at me?" Manon asked, her body relaxing.
"Oh, yeah. All the time." Amorette waved her bitten sandwich around as though it were nothing. "I assumed you knew. You two are married, after all."
"It's an arranged marriage of convenience."
"So was Sybille's and she and Darian love each other."
Manon's face flamed. "Whoa! Who said anything about love? I wasn't-... That wasn't..."
Amorette was just blinking at her now in that innocuous way of hers. She was such a faultlessly honest individual that she wasn't capable of lying even to herself. But she had been around uppers – her word – like Manon long enough to recognize it happening.
"Why are you worried about it if it's just a marriage of convenience?" She asked in that innocently astute way of hers.
Manon sighed, dropping down onto the sofa beside her. "It's just... Jacques told me before we got married that he was going to get me pregnant as soon as possible to secure our power. But he hasn't... I mean, we haven't..."
"Had sex?"
Manon grinned, unsure why she was self conscious around a girl who had no concept of social niceties and barely had a clue about propriety.
"He hasn't touched me. I mean, sometimes, we get close, but just when I think it's going to go further, he backs away."
"Maybe he's nervous," Amorette said, pulling her feet up onto the couch, as though to prove with her posture her lack of concern over propriety. "It's the first time for both of you, right? Maybe he doesn't know what to do. Do you? I can tell you. Cupid has been giving me lessons."
Manon gave her a grateful smile but shook her head. "No. I understand the mechanics of it. I'm prepared, I think, he just..."
"You think?" Amorette cocked a brow.
Manon's face was afire again. "How do you know you're ready? I figure, it's something I'll just jump into with both feet and prepare to sink or swim or fall."
"No." Amorette shook her head, gesturing at her with the sandwich. "That kind of thinking leads to disappointment and discomfort. When you think you're supposed to be ready, you tense up and you get distracted by your own pain and then it's not enjoyable."
Manon blinked at her, surprised. "How do you...?"
"Lots of the under girls had that problem," Amorette shrugged. "They started spreading their legs for food and supplies because they thought they had to and, as a result, their first times were more uncomfortable than mine. With Cupid though? I barely felt any pain. I was ready and I knew it."
"But how did you know?" Manon pressed as though it was a secret that Amorette and other experienced women were guarding.
"You just know," she replied unhelpfully. "Maybe Jacques is seeing that you're not ready. Even if you're willing. So, he's not pushing. Because, trust me, it isn't because of a lack of desire that your husband hasn't reached for you."
Manon hummed thoughtfully. Was that true? Was Jacques just being patient and kind? Even though he had promised to push, he saw hesitation in her and so wasn't?
Or did her husband simply not desire her and so he was pushing off the inevitable under the guise of only being patient?
Manon was hardly sheltered. In her misspent youth, she'd done plenty of things that her mother would definitely have risen her eyebrows at, but she had never gone further with a man than heated touches over the clothes. She gave out kisses freely, but she was never able to forget that she was a princess and therefor couldn't take just anyone to her bed. She knew how to prevent pregnancy, but accidents happened and the last thing she wanted was to find herself married to one of the degenerates she ran around with just to spare her child the title of bastard.
Manon may have constantly attempted to buck the bonds of her title, but she had never been unaware of it and what it meant for her. Lost and directionless she might have been, but she was never careless with her future.
But now that she had decided on a path, her husband didn't seem to want her. And it was surprising jut how much that rankled. She didn't think she was ugly. At least, it had never been a real concern before now.
But... was she?
Amorette continued to nibble on her sandwich, unconcerned by Manon's new insecurities. But she didn't get to brood on them for long as a knock finally heralded the arrival of the palace steward that she had been waiting on.
She bade him to enter and the older gentlemen slipped inside. Arnaud had been palace steward since before Jacques had been bored. Apparently, growing up, Jacques could usually depend on him to have a piece of candy or a kind word for a lonely prince that was never treated well by his mother and had been incredibly lonely after the loss of his father. Jacques had personally attested to Arnaud's character and assured her that, though traditional, he wouldn't have a problem adapting to the sweeping changes they were making.
And thus far, his words seemed to be proving true. Manon often had to work with the man. Initially, they had worked together to set the palace to rights after the battle that had ended the war and dealt a great deal of damage to the city. Since then, she had worked with him to help screen the palace staff, both old and new, so only those who were trustworthy remained.
"Forgive my tardiness, your majesty," he said, bowing formally despite how many times she told him that, especially with his back rounded with age, it was unnecessary. "I was dealing with a problem in the kitchen."
"A problem?" Manon cocked her head, not having heard of a problem in the kitchens.
"The flour delivered this morning was tainted with a poison. One of the kitchen maids discovered it when she ate some of the bread baked for supper. I had to deal with cleaning out the contaminated flour and trying to track the supplier. Not to worry, there is enough flour left for supper, but there won't be bread with breakfast. I'll try to find a new supplier with all haste."
Manon frowned, nodding her head. "Very well. And the kitchen maid?"
"What about her?"
"Is she well?"
Steward cocked a brow at the question. "I'm afraid not, your majesty. She is dead. Her family has already claimed her body."
Manon frowned. "Why was not informed beforehand?"
"I did not realize you would want to bother yourself with something so trivial, your majesty."
"If someone dies in my service, it is not a trivial matter. Give me her name. I want to contact her family myself to extend my regrets and offer to help them somehow, if I can. Have you told his majesty about this yet?"
"I did not think to bother him with it, no."
"I will tell him myself then." Manon sighed, waving him forward. "In the future, Arnaud, I want to be alerted immediately if someone is hurt or killed in this palace."
"As you command, your majesty," he replied evenly as he came to sit across from her an Amorette on an armchair. He deliberately did not even glance in Amorette's direction.
Jacques and Manon had made the capture and torture of empowered women illegal very early on. It was one of their first changes. Arnaud had never said anything against Amorette, but he was very obviously uncomfortable being around her. Manon didn't like that, but Jacques had begged her to let it be as Arnaud had been a source of comfort to him growing up.
She didn't like it, but she allowed it to pass. Amorette didn't seem to care either way as she sipped happily at her tea as though she were the only person in the room.
Admittedly, she was only there as Manon's bodyguard and so Arnaud had no real reason to acknowledge her presence. But Manon knew it was deliberately done and that's what sat ill with her, even if Amorette didn't seem to care. She let it go, however, as she talked with Arnaud about the new décor of the palace.
The reclaimed castle was in pieces as a result of the looting and rioting when they had first taken the thrones. They had to clean out the royal suite entirely as it had been transformed into, essentially, an overly large nursery for the sake of the mad queen before them. Now, they were working on dispelling the doom and gloom that had settled over the halls since King Robert had died. Sabine certainly hadn't cared about palace upkeep and, though Arnaud certainly cared, there was only so much he could do without the queen's permission and, often, Queen Sabine was in no fit mental state capable of not hurting herself much less picking drapes or rugs.
That task fell to Manon. She had told Jacques he should do it as it was his childhood home, but he begged her to take over. Partially so that she would feel comfortable here and partially to help him rid this place of the memories that haunted him as much as his kingdom, but also so that he could announce to his people, in every way small and large, that Manon was his lawful wife and that he welcomed her input into his life.
The fact that keeping the home was a traditionally woman's role and that seeing their queen do something traditional for once would be calming was something that she had pointed out. Jacques hadn't even considered it from that angle.
It seemed that everything Manon did recently had to have multiple layers of purpose and reason and all of it had to be done with the anticipation of others seeing it. Was this what her mother had to go through when she married her father and became queen? If so, Manon was starting to understand why her mother was so exacting about everything.
The pang of missing her mother was an ache that hadn't faded in months. She imagined that it never fully would. She would always miss her mother and, now that she was queen herself, she wished more than ever that she could talk to her. Listen to her lectures.
But she was alone now and figuring all this out on her own.
After going through the decoration ideas and talks about remodeling the first floor east wing to something more modern – it was the servant's quarters and hadn't been updated in some time – and after getting the name of the woman that had died for them, even inadvertently, Manon returned to her room to get dressed.
She was having dinner with her husband tonight.
Though the two of them both wished there were more hours in a day and they rarely got to see each other due to overlapping schedules and a near constant mountain of work, they always made sure that they ate together at least one a week, and tonight, a full four days since she had returned from Vasconia, was the night.
She wanted to dress up for him.
Their weekly dinner was the only thing in her life anymore that didn't appear to have multiple layers of meaning and intention to it. It was something that the two of them had agreed on after marrying because they knew they would be busy and, no matter what, they didn't want to let their relationship, whatever it was, grow stale and brittle from neglect.
And Manon was going into this with the full intention of seducing her husband.
It was an oddly scintillating thought considering how mundane it should be. There was nothing wrong with seducing her husband. In point of fact, her husband was the one person she was supposed to be seducing. One could even say it was encouraged.
But the idea seemed somehow naughty.
Maybe that's why she was so excited to let her hair down and exchange her dress for something cut lower than she ever usually wore. Her teacher had taught her that wearing a lot of clothing could seem restricting, but it made it easier to hide weapons on your person and, most importantly, baggy fabric was a great misdirect against weaponry. If someone didn't know exactly where to cut or stab, it increased the risk that they missed.
Manon had taken that lesson to heart and had changed her wardrobe accordingly. But before she left for Vasconia, she had requested her seamstress to make her some things that were low cut. Tighter around the bodice. Something to entice her husband. One of the few people that she knew she could be safe around without her weapons.
Bidaude and Adilla helped her dress, Nellie having been sent off to clean Manon's office since she was still too young to be involved in carnal affairs. Even just the simple one of Manon preparing herself for her husband.
The three women giggled together, dressing her up, painting her face, brushing her hair until the strands were all silky soft.
It didn't take long and, butterflies battling fiercely in her belly, Manon left her room to walk to the informal dining room she and Jacques ate at during their shared meal.
He was already there when she arrived. As was one of his many assistants. The man was handing Jacques papers to sign, one at a time, muttering their purpose in a soft voice each time. Manon didn't interrupt as she came to sit down beside her husband. She unfolded her serviette and placed it in her lap as a servant came to fill her glass with wine. She nodded her thanks.
Jacques' assistant gathered the signed papers and quickly left the room. Jacques gave her a grateful smile as servants came in bearing dishes of food that they quickly placed before leaving. Jacques and Manon preferred to have this time alone. They had to sing and dance to everyone else's benefit every minute they were outside this room. They wanted just some time to themselves while they were here.
"Mm, lamb," Jacques said. The first thing he said when the last servant disappeared as he reached forward to carve into the meat himself. "My favorite."
"They're still mainly persisting on vegetables back home," Manon said, sipping at her wine as she waited for him to serve her. "I admit, I missed the lamb myself."
"We had some food shortages here during the war, but never as bad as Vasconia. We were lucky in that regard," he agreed easily.
They fell into a slightly awkward silence as he finished serving her. When he got to the bread, she remembered the maid that had been poisoned earlier and she mentioned it to him. She was happy to see that he was just as distressed as she had been that no one had bothered to mention such a thing to either of them.
They talked about what they should do for her family and how they could adequately express their condolences. The topic was grim but not stilted. When it came to their duties and responsibilities, they were never uneasy around each other. They had disagreements at times when it came to what they wanted or their intentions, but always they were able to talk freely. Manon felt respected as his queen and partner in a way she had been worried she wouldn't when she had married him, knowing that he would be raised to expect his queen to fill a more passive role.
It wasn't much, but it was something, and the easy conversation, that changed from their obligations to the poor, deceased woman and onto their upcoming trip to Isaie, got them through the meal. Part of her thought that they shouldn't be talking about work when they were trying to relax and just be in each others presence, but it was easy and familiar and, by the time they were finished eating, she realized she had forgotten her goal of seducing him.
"I hear they've made a delicious apple tart for dessert," Jacques was saying as he patted at his mouth. "I was looking forward to it today, but I think I ate too much lamb. I don't know that I could take another bite."
Manon smiled politely at the inoffensive statement. The moment they stopped talking about work, this was what their conversation turned into. Small talk.
Not today.
"Jacques," she called to him before he could make another banal comment or observation.
Hearing the difference in tone, Jacques looked at her in surprise. "Yes, beloved? What is it?"
The serious look in his eyes, the directness of his gaze, made the words she wanted to speak next get lost in her throat and she promptly forgot them.
He cocked his head, his handsome face heating her belly. Her heart skipped a beat when a knowing, amorous look entered his eyes. She wasn't sure if she wanted to squirm or throw up.
The hesitation cooled his desire and he offered her a kind smile instead.
"It's okay, Manon," he said, standing. "We don't have to rush anything."
"No!" Manon leapt to her feet as well, upsetting her chair and sending it crashing to the floor. "I want to do this. Take me to your bed. Now!"
Jacques blinked at her once, twice, his face tensing in an odd way. It took her a few seconds to realize that he was struggling not to laugh at the ridiculous demand. And when she thought about it, her own face burned and she had to fight not to laugh herself.
They broke at the same moment and began guffawing loudly, the tension between them snapping like a cable pulled too taut and it was a relief.
He came around the table, holding out a hand to her. She took it with a grin, wiping away the tears of mirth that had gathered in her mind.
"I'm sorry," she grimaced, hating how awkward she had made this.
Jacques shook his head. It was hard to put into words what he was feeling right now. Seeing a beautiful woman, his wife, look at him and demand that he take her to bed was a punch to the gut that very nearly broke his control. But then he looked in her eyes and he was stopped by the hesitation that he still saw.
She wanted it, but she wasn't ready. She wanted it because she believed she needed to want it. He even believed that she desired him for him. They had flirted outrageously the time they had met over a year ago, before realizing who the other was.
But she wanted their joining for the sake of their joining. Jacques wanted more from her than a sense of obligation and duty. It was probably silly considering their union was primarily motivated by obligation and duty, but the ache in his chest couldn't be denied.
This was his wife. Staring up at him with her beautiful, golden eyes. His coat wrapped around her shoulders, marking her as his. He had met her in secret once, not knowing who she was, her not knowing who he was, and the attraction was immediate. He remembered that too clearly when he looked at her now, knowing she had dressed up for him.
He married her for a queen, and he got that in spades. But he also wanted a wife. A true wife. And maybe it was selfish, but he would accept nothing less.
But the effort, as hilarious as it was, was still appreciated. And it made him feel like he could be similarly honest with her.
"Manon," he started, lovingly petting the hand that he held, "don't apologize. I appreciate your honesty. And your enthusiasm."
Instead of being reassured, she made a face. "That's a pacifying statement that has a 'but' at the end if I've ever heard one."
He laughed because he couldn't help it. Her dry wit, especially in the face of the embarrassment he could still see flaming her cheeks, was endearing.
"But I am not going to take you to my bed until I know that you're ready."
"Why is everyone saying that to me suddenly?" She mumbled under her breath. "You and Amorette both now..."
"Because we know, despite your eagerness, you aren't ready." He pushed her hair back, sweeping it behind her ear. Enjoying tracing his fingers over her soft skin. "You're like a child eager to run and play in the water before learning how to swim."
Manon gave him a dark look that told him she didn't at all appreciate being compared to a child, but it was the most apt description he could think to apply.
"And to be honest, I don't know that I'm ready either," he confessed, softening her expression. "Manon, I feel like we're complete strangers at times, and then closest of friends at the others. As a queen, I can't think of a single thing to complain about. You and I work together as though we have been doing it for years. But as my wife, we are like strangers on their first outing. Unsure of each other and nervous about where we're going."
Manon's eyes lowered, as though ashamed.
"It's all right," Jacques hastened to say. "I'm nervous too, Manon."
"What?" She looked at him as though shocked.
He chuckled. "Is it so hard to believe?"
"But you're so... you. You act as if nothing ever bothers you."
A frown pulled at his brow. "Do I seem so stoic?"
"You don't notice?"
"It wasn't my intention."
Manon searched his face for a moment before laughing, relief relaxing her entire frame. "Oh, thank the good Lord!"
He cocked his head, confused. That only made her laugh harder. Then, to his surprise, she threw her arms around him and hugged him. Joyously. Like they had just returned to each other after a long time apart. He hesitated, but he wasn't unsure about returning the embrace.
It was short, but she kept her hands on him when she pulled back, her smile bright. "You're just as shy as me!"
Jacques, unprepared for her to say that, had no reply ready. But she was laughing, finally put at ease, and he couldn't bring himself to counter the words.
He wasn't nervous. He was restrained. He knew what he wanted and the only reason he wasn't ready was because she wasn't ready. But she was smiling at him so happily, he couldn't bring himself to counter the assumption.
"You're my friend, but you're my wife as well," he said, cupping her cheek. "I want both from you. I won't settle for anything less. But I don't want to rush you. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or have regrets about us."
"I wouldn't."
"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve me trying my best to give you everything."
She gave him a look that was halfway between a pout and a scowl that only succeeded in making him laugh as he took hold of her face in both hands.
"Hey, this is new for me too. Let's not worry about what should be happening and focus instead on what we want to happen."
Manon took hold of his wrists, searching his face. "And what is it exactly that we want?"
He smirked. "Isn't it obvious? To enjoy ourselves."
She burst out laughing. "So serious!"
He laughed along with her. "Am I wrong? You and I have taken on these responsibilities because we can't bear to let these people suffer, but at the heart of ourselves, the only thing you or I have ever wanted was to have fun."
Manon made a face as she resisted the urge to smile. Because he wasn't at all wrong. Her stint as the palace brat had been motivated, almost entirely, by boredom. And she had to imagine that the man that would similarly escape from his castle to sneak out to hidden bars and flirt with strange women would be similarly driven by his own internal disquiet.
Manon didn't regret becoming queen, but she did miss carousing and stirring up trouble and not bothering to hide who she was for her own potential future benefit.
The spark that echoed in Jacques' eyes told her that he felt the same.
"I think, Manon, we should have fun together," he said, whispering the words like they were a great secret.
Manon felt a thrill run along her skin. "Fun?"
"We must be a perfect king and queen every day. But when we are with each other, I want us to have fun. I want us to remember what it was like when we didn't have responsibilities and the lack of them made us act crazy. Like we didn't have a care in the world. I want us to enjoy each other so much that nothing of this awkwardness gets between us ever again."
"What shall we do?" She asked, grinning as she felt herself getting pulled along into his excitement, but still unsure of what he wanted. "We only ever eat dinner together. Are we going to put our elbows on the table? Eat with the wrong silverware?"
"If we like," he said as though he was perfectly serious. And she thought he was, but he continued. "But it really means that we do whatever we like in whatever small way we can get away with without disturbing others or upsetting our image as stern but benevolent and serious rulers. Controlled chaos, if you will."
Manon felt herself getting excited. "I do miss a bit of chaos in my life."
"Elbows on the table is just the beginning," he said, snickering at the suggesting. "But if that's the extent of your chaos at this point, my beloved wife, I suppose we can start there."
That was a blatant challenge if she ever heard one. Her eyes flashed as she leaned away from him, rested her bottom against the table. He watched her, grinning wickedly. Waiting for the answer to the challenge that he knew was coming.
She was highly tempted to grab the gravy boat and throw the remainder of the viscous, delicious fluid in his face. A food fight was something she had always wanted to try. But that would be rather hard to hide from the servants that came in to clean up after them. Or her lady's maids or his manservant when they had to be cleaned up.
Controlled chaos.
Really, underneath it all, what she wanted more than anything right now was to just be silly. Be a bit childish. Something a queen shouldn't be doing but something that she enjoyed.
"Want to lose at cards for a bit?" She asked, grinning. "Loser as to deal with the septic disposal thing we've both been pushing off."
Jacques grimaced at the reminder but it was quickly covered by a grin. "Gambling? Why my sweet, law abiding queen. I would never have guessed it of you. Winner gets to sleep in tomorrow?"
"You're on," she grinned wickedly as the two of them rushed to the door. Racing to get there before quickly composing themselves.
They walked with stoic composure, heads held high. Proper royalty. Right up until the moment they reached her personal sitting room where she kept a deck of cards. Gambling was illegal, but friendly card games weren't.
Though, hat wasn't what happened as Manon and Jacques plopped onto the floor, their shoes tossed carelessly to the side, as they played games of chance. Two out of three would be considered the winner and it gave them the chance to have fun for just a bit longer.
Jacques had never had a proper childhood. Manon had always been drawn to doing childish things like camping out on the floor like an uncivilized being and doing something inherently naughty, even if it was just gambling over chores. Or, in this case, workload.
And it wasn't awkward at all. They yelled, they laughed. She hitched up her skirts, wrinkling them in the process, as he rolled up his sleeves and ran his hands through his hair, messing up the perfectly set strands.
At his first loss, he fell over dramatically, disturbing the sofa in the process. Manon cried out in victory, throwing her hands in the air, accidentally pulling out an earring and sending it flying. She didn't bother to look for it as she took off the second one and tossed that away too. The things were heavy and irritating anyway.
He won the second round and boasted like he was victorious in a great battle. Manon pretended to weep then faint. He cried out in mock anguish before tickling her neck and sides and making her cry out and thrash, losing half the deck in her squirming. Some of which they didn't find again even after looking.
That made the final round more difficult, but more fun for it.
Jacques lost. He then proceeded to cry out in the same mock anguish that he had used to mourn her 'death' as she laughed delightedly.
It was the most fun she'd had in weeks.
And as the night was coming to an end, leaning one arm on the sofa, resting her head down in the curve of her elbow, as she watched him search for her missing earring, she finally felt comfortable asking-
"Jacques, do you desire me as your wife?"
He lifted his head from behind the end table he had been searching behind and looked at her as though she had asked a stupid question. "Now, you're just fishing for compliments."
"I'm serious," she said plaintively, lifting her head. "I want to have fun. This was fun. But Jacques, do you ever see us having more than just... fun?"
Jacques stood straight, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. Disheveled and handsome.
"Manon, you can bet on it as an absolute certainty. I don't know when. I can't know when we'll both be ready. But I plan on loving you absolutely and completely. We're going to be happy in this marriage, Manon, I promise you that."
A smile pulled at her lips as he lifted his hand, letting her missing earring dangle in the air.
"Look forward to it, my beloved wife," he said as the gem sparkled in the light.