Description: In which Princess Mia has to marry a king she's never met. His messenger is easy on the eyes though. (Sorry. The College AU was not agreeing with Aiden's temperament lol, but I'm sure you guys will enjoy this one ^^)
A/N - This chapter is a one shot. It exists in a different universe than the main story "Three Alphas, Three Mates," and although the characters' personalities may remain the same, their interactions with each other could be completely different. Couples that exist in the book may not be the same here, but don't worry. It's just a fanfic. I hope you enjoy! :D
DISCLAIMER - This one shot does include a "wedding night" scene (aka mature material). If you don't like that, it's marked off, so you can still read the first half without it.
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I don't know what to think of him. King Silvermoon. What kind of name is that?
It's his name, and his name alone, that I am given before the day we are to wed. That is the problem. He could look like anything or anyone, to me, it would make no difference. There would be no recognition, and I doubt he cares.
"When he enters," Princess Suzanne says. "You will curtsy as so."
I wish to send her flying into the lake. "I understand." I imitate her, but my heart is not in the curtsy.
I wish I could say there is a handsome knight to whom my heart belongs. That I have fallen in love with a squire or a kitchen boy, but that is false. I favor no one else. I just do not wish to be with someone who has never cared to see me.
He sends his messenger again and again, but I know my betrothed is just in it for the land. Truly, I am more acquainted with his errand boy than him. That errand boy. My mind cannot help but wander.
Two silver eyes, equally trained on me. Strong hands gesturing towards the letter addressed from his king. A toned body draped in royal attire and a smooth voice. He addresses me formally in all things, lips rolling out my name mercilessly. Yes, when I try to put a face to the king, all I can think of is his messenger.
Is that any way to start a marriage?
I huff, curtsying again to get Suzanne off my back. Does she not know my pain? "I do not wish to leave my home," I confide in her. "To be with a man I know nothing of."
She falters, giving me a gentle smile. "Leaving does not mean you cannot come back."
She has a point.
She nods as if reading my mind. "Prince Michael allows me to visit my father frequently. Your husband will do the same for you."
He better. Honestly. Did the king not think my voice worthy of his ears? My face worthy of his eyes? My hand worthy of his lips? Did he not think to greet his bride, down on his knees, before bringing her to his bed? What do I look like, a concubine?
"Now this is the important part." Princess Suzie looks me in the eyes. "When he leads you to his bedchamber, you must say—"
I wave her off. "Please. I know what I must say."
"Are you sure?" she asks.
I nod. "Assault my ears no longer with your vulgar speech."
She laughs heartily. "What a bashful queen the land of Silver will have."
I do not have the patience to match her wit today. When my eldest brother comes to mock me alongside his wife, I leave them both to their snickers.
"You will like him," Prince Michael calls after me. "I am sure of it."
What a wretched king that boy will make. I pray Suzanne has the strength to deal with him when I am gone.
###
I nearly trip when I see him at the altar. I grip my father's arm, stumbling a little. I find myself mistaken. I must be. The closer I get to the altar, the more the king waiting for me looks like the messenger. I raise an eyebrow.
My mother smiles wide, looking proud of herself. My father does not share the sentiment.
When I make it to the front, silver eyes stare back at me. Ones so pure, so savage, so unrelenting, I thought them reserved only for the royal bloodline until I saw the messenger. "Hello...?"
He smirks as I move to stand beside him.
"This is how you reveal yourself?" I whisper. Moments before we are to be bound?
"I thought it romantic." He shrugs. "Was I mistaken?" From all of our encounters, I know that airy tone to mean he is teasing.
Right now, I do not wish to be teased.
I glance back at my family, and they give me knowing looks. The wretched lot. Damn them all. Megan looks particularly in good spirits.
I make it through the vows without confronting my soon-to-be. I make it to the kiss, but he hesitates before our lips connect. He turns so that he blocks the view of both our families, to their delight and misery. He whispers his question against my neck, "Have I angered my queen?"
I pull away quickly. I search for words, stammering besides myself. "Truly, you will if you do not remember protocol."
He takes my threat seriously. Calmly, gently, he moves his lips over mine. I do not hesitate to do the same. I am no fool. The man is easy on the eyes. He tastes of something soft, and savory, but spicy all at the same time. I find I wish to taste him forever.
###
That mini boost of confidence leaves the moment we enter his bedchambers.
"Perhaps a drink?" He gestures towards a table of refreshments.
I avoid eye contact. I nod, at a loss for words. Is this happening?
I watch from the corner of my eyes as his strong arms grab the pitcher with ease, trickling the clear water into a fragile cup. I do not trust my shaking hands to take it. But I take it anyway, carrying the edge to my lips. He watches the whole thing intently, eyes burning. My heart stutters.
As I face the table, he moves behind me, running one daring finger along my bottom lip. "Beautiful."
I choke.
Coughing horrendously, I struggle to put the cup down. He guides it to the table, rubbing my back. "Are you quite alright?"
"Yes." My voice is raspy. I feel tears brimming my eyes.
"You're quite clumsy..." he starts.
I narrow my eyes. "Is that all you have to say?"
"No. I am also considering how many maids we will need to keep you alive." He doesn't keep the amusement from his face. "Choking on water. The new queen."
"You..." It seems I've done this to myself. I thought myself a good judge of character, but I have married a tyrant.
He sees the change in my mood. That must be what causes him to drop the smirk from his face and rub my back, like he's doing something far better than aggravating my corset. I give him a look, but I find I appreciate the gesture all the same. It is not quite comforting, but it is tender. I imagine his personality matches this.
We wait for the coughing to stop, and then we wait some more.
"What will it be like living here?" I look around his room, feeling his shoulder against mine. Just past the nearest window is the sight of an unforgiving winter. A battalion of soldiers bred, raised, and trained to protect their kingdom at a moment's notice—and now mine as well—is out there, hidden in the frost. Disguised amongst the trees and the shadows. They are the reason for our union.
"I thought I told you in the letters what it would be like living here?" He slips an arm around my waist, swaying me almost absentmindedly, back and forth. Back and forth. If he is conscious of his movements, he gives no indication. It reminds me of how we danced all night through the reception. We both blamed it on our family's expectation.
I look at the floor, considering the letters again. "Perhaps I did not read them as closely as I should have."
"No, you did not read them at all." He smirks. "You cared only for my messenger."
I look away, but it is not because I am ashamed. "Forgive me. He caught my eye."
"Did he?" He faces me, reminding me who he is. Who I have known for so long, and yet, not known. "Why?"
"I do not know," I whisper.
He will not take no for an answer. He leans closer to me. "I do not believe that. Tell me why your eyes followed him in everything he did." He tilts my chin up. "Tell me why you asked him if you would see him at the castle."
Heat rises to my face. He knows too much of things I had thought secret. It is all his fault. I feel dizzy, holding onto him because I do not trust my own balance. It's been a long day, I tell myself. There is no truth in it. He traces the tip of his finger against the back of my hand, before taking it in his own.
I bite my lip. "The..." I run my tongue over my bottom lip quickly. My heart skips a beat. "The wedding was nice."
"Yes, it was."
### **mature content** (not a time skip)
He leans his head against mine, breathing in the scent of my hair. Lilac and lavender. His request. Also my favorite. With him, there are too many coincidences.
I shiver when I feel his breath ghost over my skin. "I liked giving you my hand," I say. "I was wondering..." I hold onto his arms, fingers shaking. I cannot say it. I just cannot. It is too uncouth. All this time being a "lady" for what? "Perhaps..."
"Perhaps?" He coaxes me into it, but it is not reassuring. It is daring. It is teasing. It is uncalled for in a way that I do not want him to stop.
I meet his eyes head on, even as my face burns. "Perhaps there is something else my husband would like?"
"There is." His eyes lower before he kisses my neck.
I gasp, pulling him closer. The words—I've practiced them a million times with Princess Suzanne, but this is different. This is real, and raw, and I cannot breath over the smell of him. The feel of him. The room is a furnace. My body burns. "Tell me..." I try to remember the words over the haze he is setting in my mind. "What else would you like me to give?"
"I would like my wife to offer herself." Curse him for saying every line, every word, every syllable as if he had crafted the thing himself. Curse him for making me want to say the next line.
"I'm yours." I whisper it.
He holds me tighter. "I didn't hear that."
"I'm yours."
"Are you speaking to the floor?"
"Just hush yourself." I yank him to my lips. What an insolent man. He talks too much.
I'm breathing hard now. He is too. His fingers trail down my side, clutching the dress. I fear he will rip it before he finds the binding point. I lead his hands to where he should be.
"So helpful..." His breath is hot against my ear.
My lips tremble when his fingers dip into the fabric.
He carries me to the bed.
I hold onto him for dear life, and in some way, it is true. His success. His failure. His pleasure. His pain. In these regards, we are inextricably tied. Our fates are the same now, so I help him out of his clothes as if I had known his body all my life. As if it had been my very own, but it is not.
There are parts of him that do not match the parts of me. I am a woman, and yes, I attest to it, he is a man.
I run my fingers down his chest, lower, lower. "King Silvermoon."
"Aiden," he whispers. It echoes in my mind.
As an off handed comment, he mutters, "We don't have to tonight..."
But he has already started. And I encourage all the same, seeing no reason to stop here. I gesture for him to keep on, and he does. Driving me into the bedsheets.
###
I wake the next morning in a weird mixture of pleasure and pain.
He presses his chest against my back, running his fingers down my arm. "Have I hurt you?"
"No," I lie, because he has hurt me, but not in a bad way.
"I will get a maid." He gets up.
I stop him, pulling him back to me. I bury myself in his heat as the noises of his castle—our castle—lull me into slumber. A princess rises with the sun, but now, I am a queen. I let the rising sun go without me.
"Let me rest a while longer, Aiden. I assure you, I am fine." I am more than fine. At long last, I have my king.
"Yes, my queen," he whispers so as not to disturb me.
I rest my head against his chest. "Call me Mia."
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A/N (7/13/18) - How did you like Aiden's one shot lol? Queen Mia's got her work cut out for her. That king's wild.
Thanks for reading! This'll be the last one shot for now. Hope you guys are ready to get back to our regularly scheduled program lol ^^ Does anyone need a quick recap? It's been a minute xD