**A/N** This is the unbeta-ed version of the chapter. I will be uploading the beta-ed version in due time

Quinn left quietly after that even though Santana offered her dinner and a place to sleep for the night. But she could tell that Quinn needed to go home and rest, especially knowing her secret. She watched Quinn leave by carriage, and wondered just how desperate Quinn must have been to seek comfort in Puck's arms.

She mulled over Quinn's situation from the safety of her bed. It was certainly not an easy thing to fix, especially not as she was. If she married the King, certainly it would help. Santana drew her knees to her chest when she realized just how much of her future, and the future of others depended on her impending marriage.

She rang for Brittany out of habit, her hands absently reaching for the bell. It wasn't until Brittany knocked on the door that she even realized that she'd done so. Brittany entered with a quick glance down the hall to make sure that there was no one coming that way. She closed the door as quietly as possible, and made her way to Santana's side. She knew something was wrong in the way her Mistress stared blankly into space, in the heaviness of her breath and in the weak way she squeezed Brittany's hand when her servant placed it there to ease her burden, whatever it may be.

"Is everything alright? Did your meeting with Miss Quinn go well? She left in a hurry." Brittany tried to coax the source of Santana's worry out of her. Santana sighed heavily and leaned back against the pillows. She contemplated revealing to Brittany the reason for Quinn's visit; the letter, the pregnancy, and the plea for help. But it seemed unfair to tell Brittany such an intimate thing about another. She respected Quinn too much to speak of her greatest weakness.

"Everything is fine." Santana replied with a fake smile. Brittany shifted uncomfortably and Santana took her hand in both hers. "You will have to trust me when I say that you needn't worry." Brittany smiled brightly in return. That was her duty, to lift her Mistress's spirits with a smile that was almost too heavy to manage. She wanted her Mistress to tell her what bothered her so and help her shoulder the weight. But if she could only offer a smile, then she would do her best.

"Do you want me to get you anything? You must be hungry, Miss." Brittany offered. She started standing, but Santana pulled her back down.

"Stay with me a moment, Brittany." She commanded. Her grip on her servant's hand tightened. So much rested on her shoulders, on her engagement. She mourned the loss of her youth, not that she had much of it under the overbearing gaze of her mother. Brittany gazed sadly at her mistress's perturbed expression. She wished there was something she could do to make her Mistress smile again. And then it hit her.

"Your birthday approaches, Miss." Brittany said excitedly and Santana turned to her with some surprise. She had almost forgotten, and the thought troubled her for only a second. Her eyes glimmered with recollection.

"As does yours." The corners of Santana's mouth turned up excitedly. "We should celebrate it together." Brittany bounced excitedly in place, not at the prospect of spending their birthdays together, but at the renewed life in Santana's body.

"I will plan something, Miss, just for us."


Rachel bit her lip as the servants made her bed. She did not expect to spend the night at the King's castle. Even though his actions were honorable and noble, it didn't take a scholar to figure out that his intentions were hardly fitting of a man about to be married. But if anything, she was just as dishonest. Her room resided not a few feet from his chambers, and she wondered how many secret passages led from there to here.

"That's fine." The servants insisted on making everything as neat as possible even though all that effort would be wasted just a moment later. The servants acknowledged her request and left the room without another word. Rachel sat down on the bed and took in her surroundings. The palace was uncomfortably extravagant in its design with its ancient tapestries and paintings. She briefly wondered if Santana planned to redecorate the palace, and what she planned to do with the space. She put herself in Santana's shoes, thinking perhaps the walls needed a fresher, more lively color. And the paintings needed to be replaced, some were dreadfully gruesome, she'd always hated art depicting the hunt.

Rachel was so caught up in her thoughts of decor that she did not hear the door open. When movement caught her eye, she yelped in shock and jumped off the bed.

"I did not mean to startle you." Finn apologized immediately. He pressed his back against the door, the furthest he could go to show he meant no ill.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I was lost in thought."

"I see." Finn replied.

"What do I owe the honor?" Rachel's heart still raced from the earlier scare but she wasn't so sure it was completely because of that.

"I came to see how you were settling in." Finn answered, gesturing to the grand room. "I hope everything is to your liking."

"Yes, very much so, Your Majesty." Finn hovered at the door, unsure whether to leave or to stay. He fumbled with the hem of his shirt, trying to think of a proper topic of conversation when really, all he wanted to do was to sit next to her and listen to her sing again.

"Have you been taking vocal lessons?" He asked finally. The subject of music brightened Rachel's demeanor considerably and she smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, I have! It is the only luxury my father will allow, but it is a luxury I enjoy more than anything in the world." Finn relaxed when she did and he took a step towards her.

"I'm glad to hear it. Though I'm sure anyone would pay for lessons, you have a lovely voice. If you ever are in need of money to pay the instructor, please, do not hesitate to ask." His offer was forward, and Rachel suddenly felt self-conscious of the fact that she was hardly in proper clothes to greet a king. Her nightgown seemed like nothing at all in front of him, though he did not seem to notice. Her eloquence left her, and she blushed like a maiden on her wedding night. The red on her cheeks spurred something deep in Finn's chest, and without warning he took a large step forward and grabbed hold of her shoulders. She stared into his eyes - hungry and tired of waiting - for a moment before he brought his lips to hers.


Santana awoke alone on her birthday. Brittany had departed sometime during the night and she sat up to ring the bell for her. The door opened and Santana slipped out of bed.

"Brittany is my father awake yet?" The voice that responded was pointedly not Brittany and Santana jumped in shock.

"Sorry, Miss Lopez, Brittany stepped out for the morning, she asked that I take her place." For a moment, Santana panicked and images of Brittany leaving again flashed before her eyes. But she remembered what Brittany said the night before, how she was planning their birthdays and she relaxed just a little. Noel's hands were nothing like Brittany's careful, trained, and precise. She fumbled with the laces and it was only because Santana knew of Noel's friendship with Brittany that she did not yell at her clumsiness.

Brittany did her best to focus on the task at hand. She had everything prepared, a small lunch near the pond at the edge of the Lopez estate - hardly anyone wandered out that way so it would be as private as possible, then they would ride into town, and Brittany would use what little money she had saved up to buy Santana a proper birthday present. And then...

She held up a small ring, created by weaving two baby's breath flowers together. She slipped it onto her finger, testing the size of the makeshift jewelry. She knew it was nothing compared to the no doubt gorgeous, expensive silver ring that will occupy Santana's hand in the future, but she hoped that, despite its fleeting glory, it signified something deeper than what she and the king shared. She knew Santana had to marry him, but every time she thought of it, it made her chest burn and the taste in her mouth soured.


The dining table had only one plate, which meant that her father was not joining her for breakfast. Santana ate alone, the sound of her utensils clinking together filling the empty space. He couldn't even show up for her birthday, and she was certain he'd forgotten. Suddenly she wasn't so hungry, and she set down her fork and knife. She motioned for the servants to take her plate away and she settled back into her chair.

She worried about her father more than anything else in the world. He had not been right since her mother's exile, and now with her death...she feared for his well being. He was as in love with her as she was with Brittany, perhaps more. She could only guess at how much he sacrificed for her. She stood up and left the dining room to check on her father. She spotted his valet leaving the study and quietly approached the door. She brought her hands to the door and knocked softly.

"Come in." She opened the door and peered inside. Her father sat at his desk, his hands clasped on either side of his face, mulling over a map. When she walked in, he looked up at her curiously.

"Are you alright, father?"

"Santana!" He exclaimed, startled by her appearance. He quickly calmed and sighed, turning his attention back to the map. "I'm fine, but this country isn't. These damned idiots, they think revolution is the answer, when all it would do is burn and destroy everything we've worked for these past decades. Do they think that power would truly be returned to the people? No, another ruler would rise in the ashes of their revolution and they would be no better off." He slammed his hand down on the desk. He collected himself, ran his hands through his greasy, unkempt hair and stood up. He walked over to her, placed his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, princess, I shouldn't trouble you with these things. What is it?" Santana opened her mouth to remind him that it was her birthday, but she looked at his gaunt, wrinkled face, and then at the map sitting on his desk.

"It's nothing, father." She said instead. She would not burden him any more than he needed to be. If he missed one birthday, there were worse crimes to commit. He kissed her forehead and held her firmly.

"When all of this is over, we'll take a long, relaxing journey to visit your cousin in Spain. It will be just us, I won't even invite the King, even if he is your husband by then. I've neglected you too much, and I apologize for it."

"Don't apologize, father." It broke Santana's heart to hear him such things. "But I would love nothing more than that." He smiled at her and let her go before pouring over his map once more. Santana lingered at the door, watching the creases form on his strong, once determined features. She knew better than anyone that things in the country were not well, and he may never have a chance to keep his promise.

She stepped out into the hallway and rested against the door for a moment. She stopped a nearby servant and motioned for her to come close.

"Send my father some sandwiches. He's been in there for far too long, and I fear he's forgotten how to eat." The servant nodded and hurried off to the kitchen to deliver the order. She had just turned to go up the steps to her room when she caught a glimpse of light hair in the sun. She knew before she even saw her face it was her beloved. The smile returned to her face, and she did her best to remain patient while Brittany caught up to her.

"Miss." Brittany said with a smile. Santana feigned displeasure.

"And where have you been all morning?" She demanded. "Do you even know how terribly that Noel girl tied my blouse?" She twirled in place for Brittany to see. Brittany bowed, hiding the grin on her face.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss. I was busy with other things."

"And what could they possibly be?" Santana said, finally giving up the act. Her eyes sparkled brightly and she giggled despite herself.

"You'll have to wait and see, Miss." Brittany responded.


It was well past noon when Rachel stirred from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open against the harsh rays of sunlight and for a moment, all was well in her world. But the sheets underneath her were not the sheets she was accustomed to back at her estate, nor were the walls the color of her bedroom. She started and flung herself away from the foreign pillows, clutching the sheets to her body. She was still clothed, but it was hardly a comfort when she remembered the events of the night previous.

The King...he made advances towards me. A blush crept onto her cheeks when she remembered the scratchy beginnings of a beard pressed upon her soft face. She could picture all too clearly, as if freshly plucked from her dream, his lips and the way his eyes gazed into hers when they finally opened.

Does he love me? The door opened and she jumped again. For a moment, she was convinced that it was the King but instead one of the many servants of the palace walked in and bowed low when she saw that Rachel was awake.

"How was your rest, Miss?"

"Fine." She replied.

"That is good to hear. The King requests that you stay for lunch before you return to your estate. Shall I inform him you will be joining him?" The mere thought of seeing the King after their heated exchange left Rachel speechless and she nodded. The servant smiled politely, and Rachel thought she saw a bit of a knowing smirk behind her expression.

"I'll send someone to help you dress." She said before leaving the room.

The kiss was equally prominent on the King's mind. He paced the floor of the dining area impatiently, thinking maybe Rachel was going to turn him down. His heart soared when news came down that she was to join him. But just as quickly as his happiness swelled in his chest, rationale and the memory of a certain Duke's daughter caught up to his mirth and quelled it.

I am to be married to Santana. He said as his confidence deflated. My God, I am to be married to another, and here I am...consorting with someone who is not my betrothed. He sat down and his shoulders slumped. What do I do?

He had very little time to think further when the door opened and his jaw dropped. Rachel was by no means well off, but the clothes with which his staff decided to adorn her were rich in material and design. She wore a stunning purple dress, gold trimmed to fit any royal and they'd done her hair so perfectly, with a gold ribbon to keep it all up, that she looked befitting of any court rather than the humble farm from where she came. He stood from his chair and stared.

"You...you look beautiful." He stammered and Rachel flushed crimson. She smiled at the ground and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You flatter me too much." She whispered. He waited until she was seated to take his again. Her beauty robbed him of any words and he was content to watch her eat, leaving his own food unattended until she pointed it out.

"You've hardly touched your breakfast, Your Majesty."

"If I told you I loved you, and have since the first time I've laid eyes on you, would you take offense?"

Silence filled the room, save for the clatter of silverware on the table and then floor. The king immediately stiffened.

"I've been careless with my words." He said, immediately getting up and leaving the room. Rachel's hands shook as she kept her gaze fixated on her plate. Her heart and mind raced uncontrollably as she struggled to process the King's sudden confession. The implications were beyond hers to understand.

And yet...

She knew she had loved him since they first met when a few of the other nobles mocked her for her relative poverty. He had come to her rescue, and she had wanted nothing more than to love and be loved by him.

She stood and gave chase.


Brittany led Santana down by the lake. It was quiet and sunny, perfect weather for Brittany's surprise.

"What is a this?" Santana asked in delighted surprise. Brittany could not hide her grin even if she wanted.

"Your birthday surprise, I'd planned something, for you, do you not recall?" Brittany responded. Santana blinked in silent surprise. All the stress had wiped it from her mind, and as she remembered that Brittany had said it not a full day ago, she laughed aloud.

"I am sorry." She looked around before kissing Brittany on the cheek. "It had completely slipped my mind." She grabbed Brittany and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her eyes scanned the horizon, noting all too well the darkening clouds on the otherwise beautiful horizon. When Brittany pulled away, her eyes shone bright enough to lighten the impending darkness.

"After lunch, Miss, I was thinking we could ride into town, I've been saving up enough money to buy you a present, not a very expensive one, my apologies, Miss. And when we've had our fill of town, we could take a walk around the river, liven your complexion a little. You haven't seen much sun late.." Santana cut off her rambling with a kiss.

"I just want you. Nothing else." She said quietly. Brittany understood all too well what she needed. They stood, discarding the untouched food near the lake and hurried up the lawn, ignoring the distant sound of thunder.

The Duke slept most of the day choosing to ignore his duties as Duke in favor of forgetting the image of his wife that plagued him day by day. When he awoke it was only at the insistence of his valet to eat something as his daughter had commanded. When he stirred from sleep, he heard the door to Santana's room close.

"Your Grace," His valet said solemnly. "If I may..."

"Is there something wrong?" He asked sternly.

"Your Grace, it might not be my place to say, but is there something you are forgetting today?" Duke Lopez frowned. He might have been getting on in age, and certainly things were slipping his mind, but hopefully none so important that his own servant was to remind him.

"What is it?" He asked crossly.

"Today is Miss Santana's birthday." Thunder cracked above their heads, to signal the words echoing in the Duke's brain.

"Pardon me?"

"Today, Your Grace. Miss Santana was born today."

"I know what you said." He hissed and scrambled to find the date. When he did, he murmured a quiet "How could I?" It explained Santana's behavior earlier and his whole body filled with shame. His own daughter, his beloved little girl, how could he have forgotten such an important date after all she had been through?

"I must...I must fix this." There was a lot more to fix than just a birthday, that he knew. He resolved that things would be better after she settled into the castle, after the wedding, after the country quieted down. He would try to do better.

"Thank you." He said, dismissing his valet. At least wishing Santana a happy birthday would be a start.


Santana's lips brushed Brittany's collarbone and her servant let out a quiet, but firm moan. Her arms shake, unable to bear the weight of them both and when they give out, the two fall back onto the bed, the covers rising a little with impact. Santana propped herself up and inched a little further so that their lips aligned perfectly for a kiss.

The thud that the door made matched the boom in their heart when they heard it. Santana sat up straight and rolled off even before she completely understood what that noise was. Brittany hurried to retie her blouse, though the act itself was useless.

The Duke's eyes searched the room, his gaze glossing over them as if they weren't there, as if they were invisible to what he wanted to see. But soon his stare hardened, and Santana scrambled to her feet. She had never seen such darkness in her father's eyes.

"Father." She said as she walked towards him. She reached for his arm to steady him, to let him feel that she was still his flesh and blood. She felt the pain more than she saw the action. His hand shot out and slapped hers away. She gasped in pain and took a step back. The Duke's shoulders began quaking, and he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

It hadn't just been the sound of a door opening into their private, most intimate moments. It had also been the sound of a door slamming shut in their faces.

"Wait here." Santana said. Brittany, pale and cationic, could only nod once. Santana opened the door and followed her father down the hall. The house was quiet, as if it was abandoned. Santana tiptoed across the hall toward her father's room. The door creaked slightly, and Santana froze thinking her father may emerge from the darkness of his quarters. But moments passed and Santana saw no movement. She crept on until face was practically flush against the slightly ajar door.

"Father…" her voice clawed at her throat and silence answered her call. "Father."

"Who goes there?" It was a voice she barely recognized, so mangled, so bitter and angry in its utterance. "I know of no one who should call me 'father'."

"Father don't say that. I'm your daughter, and I still am."

"If I had a daughter, she would not commit such a sin. If I had a daughter she would marry the King, not give herself up like a whore to a peasant." Behind the hurtful words, she heard something much more sinister. It took Santana a minute to realize where she had heard that tone before.

It was her mother's hatred hiding behind her father's voice.

"Father it's me, please, father come out." And he did. He charged out of the room and grabbed her by the arm. The sudden movement frightened Santana into a scream and Brittany bolted out of Santana's bedroom.

"Brittany go back inside!" Santana yelled but Brittany froze in place. Her father lowered his gaze onto her, and dragged Santana forcefully towards her. In any other situation, Brittany would have left, but her Mistress was in danger, and she could not leave. The Duke seized Brittany with his other hand, his fingers cutting off blood to her lower arm. His fingers would leave marks in the morning.

"Both of you, get out!" He shouted and dragged them both downstairs towards the door. Servants peeked out to look at the commotion and hurried back into their beds when they saw what was happening. The Duke practically lifted both of them in the air when they resisted and dumped them both outside in the rain. He flung them onto the dirt path.

"Father!" Santana cried as mud and rain stained her beautiful dress.

"I have no daughter!" He roared and faced the guard. "If you let this sinner back into my estate, mark my word, I will have you head." He stormed back through the gates and the closed quickly behind him for fear that Santana might slip through. Santana flung herself at the bars and cried for her father until her voice cracked and would bear the weight of his name no more.

Brittany shook with fear, but she knew it was worse for her Mistress. She steeled herself, steadied her cold soaked hands and held her Mistress on the ground.

"We must get out of the rain." She whispered as gently as possible. Santana resigned herself to Brittany's coaxing. Together they helped each other up, and began the long trek to find a new home.