AN:/ incest content warning

The first trip a few months after the incident outside Belhalla Deirdre could explain: Lord Arvis went to Silesse to personally oversee things; unaware of the full extent of his ambitions, a bit purposefully, he promised it was his burden alone (but their joy) but if she handled the ins and outs of the palace for him, he'd love her more for it. He returned her letters frequently, coming home twice when she earnestly asked. The first was the death of her grandfather—she did not know what to do, plainly: with him, the servants, herself, so she shamefully asked him home. He came, of course; he straightened the palace in a way she could not, then stayed with her for three more weeks. She would be fine—she knew everything else she needed to, and her grandfather's passing was an unfortunate blip on everything else she had done.

Then she was pregnant; she told him, and while it did not immediately bring him home, somehow his letters ticked up, and with them, gifts. She tucked each letter in a journal she did not write in, and the gifts inside a decorative box on the edge of her vanity. She did not expect him to come home when the babies (her luck, to have two of them! small, kissable, unknowing, boy and girl) were born, not immediately, but she sent for him anyway. Lord Arvis did return, though, a few days after her letter; that quick must have been magic, so she kissed his cheek and dragged him off to the nursery. The girl child slept soundly in her bassinet, so he scooped the boy up. "Careful," she warned. "He bites."

"Of course he does," he said, brushing his thumb across his cheek. The baby leaned into him, red eyes hazily on his father's face. "Aren't you something?" he asked the boy, voice odd, and when she looked up at him, his brow creased. Chalking it up to shock—she stared dumbly at both of them for a whole night—she laid her hand on his arm, leaving it untouched.

The second trip she could not explain. The babies — Julius and Julia — neared their first birthday, a year they mostly had their father. But then he wanted to leave again, not telling her where. "'How will I write to you if I do not know where you are?" she tried.

He took her kiss to his cheek, silent until she was done. "I will not be gone long."

"I will remember that the next time I take a trip on my lonesome."

And to his credit, he wasn't. Little Julia, comfortable in the confines of her arm, stared at his empty seat; they were not bad babies, even if Julius could be mischievous, but they were aware enough to know their father was gone, with only mother, maids, and stuffed toys for company.

He returned without her knowing. She snuck into the nursery early in the morning, itching to hold the twins after a night apart, only to find her husband sitting in a chair with Julius in his arms. Clearly, he'd been in for a while, hair washed and out of that traveling cloak of his. "Husband," she started. She crept over to Julia's bassinet, girl gone to the world. "When did you get in?"

Lord Arvis, normally, did not tense up when anyone spoke to him, and if she did not know him beneath his shirt, she would not believe it. His shoulders tightened for a moment, little Julius' sleeping head rolling with it, before the odd moment passed. "Not long," he said, eyes not leaving the boy. He brushed the baby's small curl of bangs back, revealing the nondescript speck between his eyes. It appeared not too long after he was born; at first, she assumed he needed a good bath, but the stain did not leave. It got a little bigger each time she looked, she thought, but so did Julius.

Deirdre left Julia to sleep. She was set to wake soon anyhow; the nurse would enter, and she wouldn't have her husband like this. She came to sit with him on the arm of the chair. "Normally you come say hello." Knowing his body did not mean he knew his eyes, or half the time his heart. He did not pull his eyes away from the baby; his eyes held that fondness they normally did, but something else was there. She didn't like it, forgetting for a moment how to find his heart. "Would you like a kiss for your worldly troubles?" she asked.

"No." No! No? What sort of answer was that? Sleeping he was, Julius found the exchange funny, snorting. At least, he let her touch him, hand on his forehead. No warmer than usual, not that she expected him to be ill. Never, for all their years together, but never had he denied her a simple kiss since they became promised to each other. "I am fine, Deirdre. I am not in the mood now. That is all."

The mood? What did he think she was trying to do? "This is how I have greeted you for years now, husband."

"Must you call me that?"

Must. "What else would I call you?"

Luckily, beside her hand on his forehead she was not touching him; he stood from the chair, Julius' mouth falling open. Tall he was, he bent the great distance to lower Julius into his bassinet, shushing his coo. "Plenty of things."

Julia got a kiss, lingering on her forehead. "I would like to call you husband." Deirdre sighed, sliding off her chair. "Have you slept at all? It is still early if you would like to find my bed." Wrapped up in her, his ear to her chest: she missed him there.

Lord Arvis did not answer her, fixated on their girl babe. She moved across the room to his side, sliding her arm through his. Julia's lashes touched her full, chubby face, nose crinkled up in a bad dream. Tonight, she held her foot in her hand as she slept. "I will nap in my own quarters," he said, "if I nap at all."

His own - Deirdre did not remember the last time she was in his quarters. Why, it was probably dusty! And who lit a hearth in an unoccupied room? Most days, she forgot they had separate rooms; her room was his, clothes and all. Surely he was just tired from his trip, and after a night by himself he'd come back to her arms. "As you say."

Plainly, Lord Arvis pulled away from her.

She could not help but think it had something to do with that recent trip of his. They lived in the same palace yet barely saw one another; he ate with her and the children, subjected himself to their tiny whims afterwards, and despite all of Deirdre's persistent attempts, would not join her for anything: a walk, his hand in hers, certainly not her bed.

It ate at her. Most days, most years, she ignored the open, empty vale of memories and reminded herself of her typically sweet husband and babies that filled the plains with joy. Her memories were gone, but in place were new ones, a good life in the comfortable Belhalla and anything she asked for.

Except, now, him.

Tonight, she went to his bedchamber. The twins went to bed in her arms, taking turns, and she left them with their night nurses. Older, they no longer woke up through the night to eat, so she didn't feel as bad letting them slumber away from her.

She barely knew where his room was, but the door opened easily. Why tiptoe around a man who no longer loved her? What pushed him away? Someone? Her? What could have done it? After having the twins he still wanted her, even the months she considered herself utterly repulsive, so what happened? Another woman to kiss and make sweet with him? "Princess." No. "Would you like a seat?"

His bedroom mirrored hers, from the tuck of his vanity to how his bed angled to the window. Standard layout? She hadn't bothered moving anything in her room besides getting heavier curtains. "No." She wouldn't be here that long. He undressed for bed, out of his boots and working on his tunic.

Again, he would not meet her eyes. "Do you need something?" She took a few steps into the room, away from the door, tucking her hands together in front of her stomach.

"Have I done something?" she asked. Deirdre kept the wobble out of her voice.

Still not looking at her, "No."

No! No, and he ignored her night after night, and for what? "Have you done something?" she tried. It was the next possible thing: he could not be happy with her anymore. There was someone else somewhere else, wherever he so secretly went, and she no longer called his heart home. Did she have proof? Barely, but why else forsake her?

Just as swiftly, "No. Nobody has done anything." He picked at the button that clasped his sleeve, and if he undressed so casually around a woman he did not love-

None of that. He set the pin of his sleeve down on his vanity. "I must have." This time, she could not keep her voice firm. What could she do, if he was someone else's? There were the twins to think of, Grannvale and all he done beyond it, and, at the end of it all, who else did she have? Who else did she know? She could retire to one of the country homes and return Julius when he was grown. Yes, that could work.

Lord Arvis sighed, tight and tense. Goodie. She worried her thumb over her palm. "You have not done a thing, Deirdre. I swear it."

"Why act like this? You have not kissed me, or held my hand, or joined me on my offered walks or anything to make me think I am your one. You barely look at me and when you do you-"

"Deirdre." She stopped, swallowing. He came to her, at least; he left his vanity, all legs, coming to stand before her. Naturally, her eyes came up to his chest, head barely clearing his shoulders. His hand ghosted her wrist. The closest they'd been in weeks, tears welling up in her eyes. She took the step forward, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Lord Arvis did nothing for a moment, stiff like they were new again, before his arms went around her too, around her waist, carding his fingers through her long tresses. "Don't cry over me, Deirdre."

She did. A lonely few weeks with only her twins for company, a large, cold bed while her husband was home a few doors down, no answers to all her questions—the second time they wound up like this, but the first he did not answer her. "Cruel man," she mumbled. He kept quiet; did he know how he hurt her? She didn't know, and they hadn't...argued wasn't the right word. He'd been sweet for years now, previous predicament aside.

Lord Arvis rubbed her back. "I do not wake up with the intention of hurting your feelings, my dear."

"But you do."

"But I do," he agreed.

Deirdre leaned back. His arm remained snug around her waist, safe and snug in his arms again, so she and her dry mouth managed the unthinkable. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"I do love you," he said without any hesitation, "with everything I have." Everything. The promise they made. Being his wife, his princess, the mother of his-

"Then why have you ignored me?"

Lord Arvis did not answer her; he tangled his fingers in her hair, stomach flopping. Close again, like they hadn't been in a while, she slid her arm around his neck, pressed against the length of his body. Something odd in his eyes, hand flexing on her hip.

Gathered up in his arms, he dipped to kiss her. The first time in weeks, his mouth soft on hers. She sighed, eyes sliding shut as she melted in his arms. He rubbed his thumb into her hip. How hard was this? To kiss his wife? To treat her like the woman he loved? Not at all.

If he was off kissing someone else, he hadn't learned a thing. Deirdre blinked, made bashful again. "I have meant everything I have told you, dearest. I love you. I love you and I will look after you and give you anything you possibly want, myself included."

Her heart thumped. "And these past weeks?"

"An error on my part." This was the...third time, they ended up like this, Lord Arvis of all men apologizing to her. Tall, stern, and in-charge, remorseful to his wife. It meant something. "My last. I will make all right for you," he said.

Make it right. "I know you will. You are consistently stubborn, at least."

"Stubborn," he echoed, kissing her again. His hand slipped out of her hair, bringing her closer with the heel of his hand between her shoulders. Normally, she led, but today he crowded her in his arms, and she decided the kissing counted towards the apology. He leaned his forehead against hers. "There. All yours and in love with you as I always have been."

Deirdre picked at his tunic. What an...odd thing to say, and not at all for her ears. "And I am yours and in love too," she reminded him. "Oddities be darned."

He laughed, at least. "Stay with me tonight," he said, not asked.

She would. "I have no nightshirts here." No answer for why he ignored her, no explanation for casting her out of his heart, but he kissed her again, taking that first dive, distracting as always. She cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb beneath his eye. An odd look there, hard to read, saying nothing for a few moments. "Husband?"

Finally, "We'll put you in one of mine."

"How boring."

"Not...not tonight, Deirdre. It's a bit late for any nonsense."

Nonsense! She kissed his cheek, not pushing it. He'd be back in her bed tomorrow night, like he never should have left, and it'd go her way eventually. "If you say."

AN:/ tfw when you don't know how to write shipfic anymore