Windsor Castle, Berkshire
June 1466
His Grace, Niklaus I, seems to be as pleased as one can be. Illuminated by the bright sunlight, everyone around him is able to notice his constant smiling and belly laughs as the court convenes in the courtyard.
In any other occasion, Cardinal Thomas Beckington, the King's Lord Chancellor, would be just as pleased. After all, His Grace has been in quite a disagreeable mood ever since returning from France. However, Beckington is wise enough to know he should not be so naïve.
He is painfully aware that the cause for his sovereign's joy has the potential to bring grief for the entire country. In a way, he is not surprised with Niklaus' willingness to defy all norms just so he can send a message. After all, the King is an obstinate warrior, used to getting whatever he wants in life.
Thomas is surprised that Niklaus seems to be serious about this matter. When he first approached him with questions pertaining to legalities and consequences of an annulment, Thomas did not give it a lot of thought and chalked this line of questioning as frustration. Queen Aurora had suffered another miscarriage, causing the doctors to advise her to halt any attempts to conceive for at least six months, and it was clear that the royal nursery would remain empty for another year. How mistaken he had been.
The King returned from May Day celebrations with a new glint in his eyes and smiled proudly as he announced his decision. He wished to have his marriage annulled so he could take another woman as his wife. If that woman was the Infanta Juana or another princess from a powerful empire, Thomas was sure the Pope would not oppose. The woman in question, however, was just an Earl's daughter and a witch. His unwillingness to dissolve the marriage and grant a dispensation was to be expected.
What was not to be expected was Niklaus' swift response to the Pope's decision. Not once, ever since William the Conqueror's time, was a woman created a Duchess in her own right.
"I don't remember ever seeing His Grace so overjoyed," Cardinal Vicenza comments with a frown as he approaches Cardinal Beckington, not once taking his eyes off the window that faced the courtyard. "It is as if he takes pleasure in defying His Holiness and creating rumors around his court."
Beckington doesn't say anything in response, as he is aware that Vicenza expects him to chime in agreement. The man may have achieved a high position in Rome as one of His Holiness' trusted men, but it is clear he has spent way too much time dealing with divine matters instead of matters of real men. Or better yet, Kings.
"Oh, Vicenza, Are you so naïve that you believe the King's actions were done only to displease His Holiness and unsettle a court with a penchant for gossip?"
Taken by surprise, Cardinal Vicenza raises his pale eyebrows until they almost touch his hairline. Beckington huffs with a hint of impatience for the Cardinal's ignorance.
"Pardon?"
"It would be wise of you and of Rome to see His Grace's gesture for what it really is," Beckington advises as he takes a seat and gestures Vicenza to do the same. He may not realize it, but the conversation they need to have is quite grave and concerns the future of England. "Him making Lady Bennett the Duchess of Kendal and March is not just a way to aggrieve the Pope. It is merely the beginning."
"The beginning?"
"Your Eminence, Rome may attempt to ignore the matter, but we both know the winds of reformation blow swiftly across Europe, becoming particularly strong in the German states. England has always been a staunch supporter of His Holiness and Rome."
"But?" Vicenza prompts, cocking his head to the side, interested in knowing the rest of Beckington's argument.
"His Grace has made it clear to me that he intends on having the Lady Bennett as his wife at any cost. Granting her titles that have belonged to his family for centuries was only the first step in achieving that."
If this wasn't such a serious matter, Beckington would have laughed at the expression of indignation on Vicenza's face.
"The King already has a wife in Queen Aurora! They are married in the eyes of God!" Cardinal Vicenza exclaims; his pale face turning red.
"I would say, many couples have been married in the eyes of God and then unmarried," Beckington points out with a subtle sneer. The hypocrisy of them is astounding. "Queen Aurora, bless her, has an impeccable lineage, but her womb does not seem to want to do its business. His Grace is not a simple man, he is a King and a king needs sons. Civil war is one riding accident away, and he is painfully aware of that."
"You speak of the sacrament of matrimony as if it is nothing," Vicenza comments in a reproaching tone.
If Beckington was younger or any less of a skeptic, he would have felt bad, embarrassed for his words. As Lord Chancellor of England, Cardinal Beckington understands his priorities.
"I speak of practical matters that the Church seems to be ignoring. His Grace is willing to do anything to marry his witch, and that includes breaking from Rome," Beckington says as he shuffles through letters, ignoring the shocked look on Cardinal Vicenza's face.
"Beckington, what is it you say?"
His Italian accent becomes thicker as the English language escapes him. How can he think in English after learning such a shocking information?
"In a matter of months, the threat of excommunication will not be an issue to His Grace. Heed my warning, if the Pope does not change his decision, England will be lost to Rome!"
Cardinal Vicenza wishes he could say Beckington is exaggerating; trying to paint a grim picture so he will pressure His Holiness, but he cannot.
An annulment and a papal dispensation will decide the future of the Catholic Church in England.
Windsor Castle, Berkshire
June 1466
One could perhaps say the King of England is hiding from the watchful eyes of his Lords and the never-ending gossip that seems to follow him. Even though he would deny it – he's King and as such, he cannot admit to hiding from anyone – Niklaus Mikaelson is certainly relieved to be dining by himself in the privacy of his own chambers. The usual custom after a day of sports and hunting is a grand feast at the great hall, but tonight he is only waited by Brandon, his chamber valet and the musician, who plays a slow melody on the violin in the outer chamber.
A brief moment of peace to soothe his mind; exhausted after a day with unsatisfied nobles. Unsurprisingly, his bold move to invest Bonnie with the title of Duchess has rattled many of the senior nobles in court, and he would have to keep them content. After all, he needed their support if he wanted Bonnie on the throne.
Through the soft melody produced by the violin strings, the sound of a slamming door echoes through the chambers and Klaus knows his moment of peace is no more. The familiar clicking on the hard floor and the sweet scent of roses are enough to let him know who is responsible for such disruption.
"Aurora! It is a surprise to see you here. I thought you were in Greenwich," Klaus greets in an even tone, looking up from his plate of venison. Such a delightful meal and he will not be able to finish it.
"Does your derision for me know no bounds?" Aurora demands as she storms into his inner chambers; a flurry of dark orange silk trailing behind her. In the candlelight, she looks like a flame of wildfire. "Is that what you enjoy? Humiliating me at every turn you get?"
Klaus takes a deep gulp of wine, trying to sooth the strange sensation that turns his stomach in an unpleasant way.
"I do not wish to humiliate you, Aurora."
"Perhaps you have a misguided idea of what humiliation entails because I dread to imagine what you would do if you actually wished to humiliate me!" Aurora exclaims, drawing both hands into fists so tight that her nails begin to sink into her flesh. "Have I become so detestable that you want to see me broken?"
Despite her tough and polite exterior, created by years of impeccable upbringing and education from the best tutors in Europe, Aurora is still fragile. And seeing her in such distress gives him an uneasy feeling. His desire for an annulment has more to do with himself than her. To say Aurora has been the perfect Queen is an understatement. He may have won the crown on the battlefield, but the support for his reign came after his marriage. Perhaps if God saw it fit to grant them with children, if he had not laid eyes on Bonnie ever again, he would not seek to end their union. But now that he knows the feeling of losing himself to another person, Klaus cannot stay anymore.
"I doubt that I could break you, Aurora. Had you been born a man, you would be invincible. A more dangerous threat than your brothers combined."
Aurora snorts, skeptic and unladylike. In another time, she would have beamed at his words. Now, she knows they are empty, meant to flatter her.
"Do not condescend me. Not when you have humiliated me by making your mistress a Duchess, giving her a yearly allowance as large a mine, making her one of the highest ranked ladies in England!" Aurora cried out; the storm brewing behind her blue eyes as her hands tremble ever so slightly. This is highly irregular; her showing so much emotion towards her husband, her King, and she hardly knows how to regain control.
"She is not my mistress, Aurora."
"Oh, yes. I forget, she is not your mistress. I have received a letter from Beckington to inform me you plan on seeking a divorce and she is to be your wife!"
In a way, Aurora would prefer to bear the humiliation of Klaus having his newly invested mistress prancing around court than reading a letter from Beckington – Beckington of all people! – announcing the King's intentions. Her husband, so mighty and brave, could not even tell her himself of his wishes?
Klaus opens his mouth and snaps it shut a second later. He was a coward, so there is no excuse to be given.
"Is that what you truly wish? To end our marriage so you can marry your little social climbing lady?" Aurora asks; her tone more acidic than she would like. A Queen should never show her true emotions, should never allow others to know her thoughts and emotions. She has always believed that, but right now she does not care anymore. She is about to be replaced by a little upstart, and not one of her tutors could have prepared her for that.
"I have made her a Duchess because it was my wish," Klaus argues, sighing because he's exhausted from having to explain himself. Is he not the fucking King? Why must he answer for his actions?
"As it is your wish to ruin me?"
"I have said it before, Aurora. I do not intend on humiliating you or causing you any harm," he says, hoping she would finally believe him.
"Then why do you brand me as barren? Even as a princess, my reputation will be destroyed. No suitable man will ever agree to a match," Aurora murmurs, feeling a bout of nausea overtake her in such a sharp way that she has to grip the edge of the table for balance.
Becoming a discarded Queen is a humiliating prospect, but being branded as a woman incapable of producing children is just too harrowing of a thought. She would be a virtual exile then; hidden from other nobles until her existence turns into nothing but a memory. The House of Bourbon despises weakness, after all. Aurora doubts her brother would allow her- the forsaken and infertile wife of the English King - to reside at the Louvre, parading through Paris.
No, if the Pope ever grants this annulment, if he declares her to be barren, her life will be over.
"You know I cannot be quiet and accept this. My brother has written to me, commanding me to oppose any of your requests," Aurora says; thinking of the pile of parchments sitting on her desk. Letters from Louis and Tristan expressing their indignation at Niklaus' boldness. After all, it is Aurora who has an impeccable royal, while Niklaus can be considered a usurper.
"I would not expect any different from him," Klaus mutters with a subtle smirk; one that Aurora can't quite decipher. "And is that what you intend to do? Heed your brother's advice and drag this matter until the bitter end?"
As she takes a deep, drawn-out breath until she doesn't feel quite as sick, Aurora feels his eyes on her. To think she longed to have his gaze upon her once again.
"Perhaps this bitter end is better than what awaits me in France, should I return as a discarded, infertile woman," Aurora ponders with a quiet tone. Her slightly raised chin indicates she will not bow down to all of his decisions.
Klaus takes a small sip of his wine, not because he is thirsty, but because he feels restless and needs to do something to do. This conversation has taken an unexpected turn, leaving him unsure of what should be his next move. While his desire for Bonnie is great and burning, what kind of man would he be if he so carelessly condemned Aurora to a miserable life?
"If you agree not to oppose the annulment, then perhaps I could make it possible for you to stay here instead of returning to France. Become a Duchess and receive your own household in a residence of your choice, granted they are not any of the royal residences," Klaus offers after a moment of silence, confident that his proposition is most ideal. After all, Aurora has warmed to England, a surprised to all of them, considering she is the perfect French princess. And the French have always looked at the English court with disdain.
Aurora bites her lower lip, clasping her hands together as she considers this unexpected offer.
"While I am not sure I appreciate your attempt to mollify me with titles and lands, I will consider it after I take counsel. There is one condition, though,"
"What is it?"
"Have your bishops and canon law scholars find some other pretext to justify the annulment. I will not be branded as a barren woman. Eleanor of Aquitaine was unable to provide King Louis heirs and even he didn't humiliate her in such manner."
Her words; spoken in her usual soft tone, have a cutting effect on him. She's managed to dismantle him in just a couple of sentences by comparing him to King Louis VII.
"I will inform Cardinal Beckington," he concedes; somewhat surprised with his ability to conceal his emotions. "I- thank you, Aurora."
The last sentence tumbles out of his lips without a second thought, and for a moment, Klaus wonders if he was compelled.
"As you wish, Your Grace," Aurora says; bowing to him with as much grace as she can muster.
It is as if the bright fire that filled her just a few moments ago was snuffed out; coldness standing in its place as Aurora feels resignation washing over her. As she leaves his chambers, her head is still held high, ignoring the not so subtle stares from courtiers. Discarded or not, she's still the daughter of a King and will remain as Queen of England until the Pope says otherwise.
Stafford House, London
June 1466
It is as if everything has remained the same while drastically changing. Ever since their return from Windsor Castle, it was made clear to them that it was the King's wish that they remain at Stafford House; the luxurious place now their official London residence. And by his Grace's command – a gentle one, but a command nonetheless – Bonnie now lives in quite a new reality, different from anything she's ever known.
Yes, she's become accustomed to palaces and refinement after being Queen Charlotte's lady-in-waiting, but she is certainly not used to having so many eyes on her. In France, she was little more than an afterthought, an accessory meant to make the Queen look good. In Hertfordshire, she was a girl, allowed to run through the gardens with her hair undone and barefooted, allowed to learn how to ride astride and how to shoot the bow and arrow.
Now all eyes seem to be fixed on her, trying to figure her out as if she is a puzzle. She is not alone with her Grandmother, Bess and Dash anymore. Unlike Knebworth, that has always been calm and quiet, Stafford House boasts agitation, especially after her investiture ceremony.
Bonnie may be young and not as educated as one could be, but she's observant. And by observing, she's realized the subtle differences around her. For one, it would seem that the household has expanded, with the number of ladies attending her has almost doubled. And the behavior of those surrounding her has also changed. Ever since her arrival at Stafford House, the servants have treated her with respect, as the King's guest. Now, there is deference in how they address, in how they even look at her. At first Bonnie believed her new position as Duchess to be the reason for such change, but she's come to realize she was mistaken about that.
In another bold move that even left Bonnie surprised, Klaus declared Stafford House as an official royal residence, all but dictating how she should be treated. It was also a sign of the future to come.
As much as she has waited for this moment, when they would finally be able to show others they are to marry, Bonnie cannot ignore the weird sensation that has been nagging her.
"Is there a reason for the frown on your face, Your Grace?" The familiar voice asks, and Bonnie looks up to see her Grandmother. A welcome sight, even if the new form of address bothers Bonnie.
"Grandmother, please. I cannot bear the thought of you treating me differently as well," Bonnie says with a sigh; the frown becoming even more noticeable.
Sheila chuckles, somewhat amused by her granddaughter's mild distress. Her darling Bonnie has become one of the most important women in England, perhaps the most important woman outside of the royal family, and yet, she wants everything to stay as it is.
"I am afraid I will have to, child. That is what the King wishes, for you to be placed above all of us. And not even I can go against the King's wishes," Sheila explains as she moves to stand next to Bonnie, hoping that her close presence will bring her granddaughter some comfort. "What is that?"
"His Grace believes it is wise to begin some of the wedding preparations. The seamstresses have sent me this so I can choose," Bonnie explains; arranging the items so Sheila can see them better.
A collection of fabrics, all of them made from the most luxurious silks one could acquire in England, all of them too exquisite for words. Even Sheila, who does not place much stock on expensive things, is impressed. The pure white silk embroidered with gold thread must be worth a small fortune, as does the ivory colored silk.
"Any lady would be overjoyed by this, and yet you look like you have taken ill."
"I am overjoyed, Grandmother, but it does not feel right to be picking out silk for wedding dresses when the groom still has a wife!" Bonnie exclaims; the unexpected squeaky tone of her voice showing more emotion than she would have liked.
Not wishing to be seen as ungrateful, Bonnie's never aired out those particular feelings.
"Child?" Sheila asks; furrowed eyebrows as she tilts her head in an attempt to figure out the reason for Bonnie's distress.
"Queen Aurora was a Princess of France, a King's daughter. And now she is to be discarded as if she is little more than a commoner. If that can happen to her, what kind of faith awaits me, Grandmother?"
Looking down, Sheila notices the trail of tears running down Bonnie's cheek; the usually warm hue of her skin now pale. Oh, her poor child was so worked up that she even made herself sick. Not that Sheila blamed her. The weight of the crown is already pushing down on Bonnie and it hasn't even been placed on her head yet.
"Oh, child. Queen Aurora's womb did not do what it was supposed to do, and that is why the King wants a divorce," Sheila says; her tone so practical and matter of fact that she sounds cold and unfeeling. It is not intentional, but it is enough to make Bonnie draw in a sharp breath.
"And if my womb does not do its business? What if I lose the King's favor?"
That particular question has been haunting Bonnie ever since her investment ceremony; when she realized how dependent she is on the King. A patent and a proclamation, and she was created Duchess of Kendal and March. Her new status is owed to the King's generosity, and they all know generosity can run out at the drop of a hat. A noble may have his titles and lands one day and find himself banished from court and without any prestige the other.
"Bonnie, as women in this world, we are cursed to stand behind men," Sheila starts to say, feeling her chest tightens painfully as she thinks of the mess created by vampires and werewolves when they came into power.
Such ridiculous beliefs, thinking that men should take precedence to women. To Sheila, a descendant of a great witch house, their opinions have always seemed quite distasteful, but such is the world they all live in.
"But you are a witch, my darling. Descended from Madeleine herself. You are strong and it is obvious the King adores you."
"And if he comes to adore another as much as he does me? What will happen then?"
It is both terrifying and so painful to think of the King coveting another woman, writing her sweet letters and whispering loving words. Somehow, Bonnie does not think her heart would be able to take it. Perhaps that is the reason why she is so scared.
"As much as it pains me to say this, nothing will matter then. Because you will be Queen, and there are many things, awful things, you will have to bear."
It breaks Sheila's heart that she cannot promise that Bonnie's future will be a happy one.
"I noticed the way they looked at me. Norfolk, Suffolk, Sussex, they all seem to despise me. I fear I will never be accepted, Grandmother," Bonnie confesses. Their ill-concealed expressions of indignation are still brandished on her memory.
"They will fall in line eventually. They just do not appreciate seeing that their King is not afraid to think for himself. They expected a boy to manipulate, after all," Sheila assures her, not entirely certain her words are true. The vampire nobility is not known for its loyalty or acceptance.
In a way, Sheila fears Bonnie will have to carve out her own way in court, and will not have it as easy as Queen Aurora.
"Do not despair, my child. I will help guide you through the treacherous path of court."
Castel of Sant'Angelo, Rome
June 1466
His Holiness, Pope Paul, curls his lips in a subtle smile, holding his right hand out for the man in front of him to kiss his signet ring as customary.
"I trust you had a safe journey," he comments, motioning for Cardinal Vicenza to take a seat. The Cardinal nods to indicate that yes, he had a safe journey, but fails to elaborate.
After years around Vicenza, Paul is familiar with his mannerisms and has learned how to read him. Even when he fails to say something. The downturn of his lips and the telltale blush on his cheeks say more than a thousand words.
"How was England? I expected your arrival a week ago," Paul says as he sets aside a pile of documents, settling onto the armchair.
"Your Holiness," Cardinal Vicenza begins to speak, but his sentence trails off as he is hard-pressed to find the right words. Such a delicate matter deserves his utmost sensibility. "The situation is graver than we expected."
"Graver? In what way?" Paul questions; cocking an eyebrow in curiosity.
The brief reports did not expand on the King's actions, leaving him to wonder what has really happened. After his denial of the annulment, he believed King Niklaus would at least send his little mistress away and pretend to reconcile with his wife. That was Manuel's course of action, as he attempted to prove the necessity of an annulment.
"Much like all the other courtiers, I was astonished when His Grace convened the court to Windsor Castle and had a ceremony to make Lady Bennett Duchess of Kendal and March," Vicenza recalls; keeping his tone steady as he tries his best to relay all the important details. "At first I believed it to be a gesture to appease Lady Bennett, due to Your Holiness' refusal to grant the annulment."
"Why do I suspect that King Niklaus wished to do more than appease her?" Paul mutters with a snort.
Sovereigns like Niklaus are predictable in their unpredictability, so it is no surprise that he would have a concealed strategy. Paul, however, is surprised that the King has not tired of Lady Bennett. After all, there all countless rumors of him taking mistress after mistress; his carnal desires seemingly insatiable.
Is it possible that, by denying the annulment and the dispensation, Paul made Lady Bennett even more desirable to the King? One could never tell when it comes to spoiled men.
"I have spoken to Cardinal Beckington; a most unsettling conversation, Your Holiness," Cardinal Vicenza says with a frown and proceeds to narrate the aforementioned conversation. As nervous as he feels, he is able to paint an accurate picture of the grim situation they are about to face.
The Pope, for his part, does not show any type of emotion as Cardinal Vicenza speaks. Save for an occasional arched eyebrow, his face remains placid as if they were discussing hymns for tonight's mass.
"That is the reason why my return was delayed. A group of bishops and other scholars was gathered to discuss the matter and what can be done to solve it. Cardinal Beckington insisted to have my presence in these discussions."
"Well, what conclusion did this group of scholars reach after so many discussions?" Paul questions with an uncharacteristic sneer, at last, allowing himself to display his skepticism. Scholars they may be, but he doubts they would know more about canon law than himself, the Pope.
Cardinal Vicenza feels the blood rushing to his head at an abnormal speed; his face becoming red and warm. He tries to conceal it, but it is a lost cause. Pope Paul has already noticed his discomfort and expects an explanation.
"Well, they have discovered some abnormalities in the documents," Cardinal Vicenza finally reveals. He is careful to avert the Pope's eyes, just so he can hide his own shame.
After all, the Pope entrusted him with the task of going to England to dissuade him from this mad idea. Not only did he fail to accomplish that task, but he now holds the information to render the Pope's judgment useless and
"Abnormalities? What kind of abnormalities?"
"No papal dispensation was given prior to the wedding of Queen Aurora and King Niklaus."
"What is the matter? We have thoroughly analyzed their family trees and no dispensation was asked in the first place," Paul counters, failing to understand why that would be an issue.
"No dispensation was asked because they assumed it was not required. However, King Niklaus is not entirely a vampire, he is a hybrid," Vicenza explains, barely able to keep himself from cringing as he sees the pallor of Pope Paul's skin. "And as part werewolf, a dispensation would be needed to make the marriage a valid one."
Paul releases a strangled breath that sounds quite undignified for a man of his station.
"Are you certain no such document was issued? I hardly believe Clement would have made such a crass error."
His predecessor, Pope Clement was a rather stern man when it came to the rulings of the Church. Surely he would not be careless.
"Yes, but Your Holiness, I believe this may be beneficial to your person and the Church," Vicenza states; hopeful that his suggestion can solve this most unpleasant situation.
"Beneficial? This woman comes from Madeleine's direct bloodline. You know what this could mean!" Paul cries out; already dreading the repercussions this damn match will bring.
No witch has ever sat on the throne after Queen Madeleine – the all-powerful witch queen- was deposed. All of the nobles, both vampires, and werewolves, have worked to ensure that a witch dynasty would never be again.
"Her children will have diluted blood, and may be hybrids such as King Niklaus," Vicenza suggests; knowing the possibility is quite likely.
The powerful witches and warlocks of the past chose to keep their bloodline intact by wedding others with magic or humans. There is no telling if a child from a witch and a hybrid will even possess magic.
"Besides," Vicenza continues as he senses the Pope to be considering his words. "You can use this oversight to consider the marriage invalid without causing anger from any of the parties. King Louis will not be able to protest, and King Niklaus will be so pleased he will even put more effort into defending our faith."
Save for a quiet, exhausted sigh, Paul remains silent. His mind is quite scattered; different thoughts and voices screaming at him as each of them tell him to take a different decision.
When he was chosen as Pope, Paul knew he would have to continue working to maintain the influence and wealth of Rome. As Vicenza said, the winds of reformation are strong and swift; threatening to destabilize them and everything they stand for. Should King Niklaus break from Rome, it will bring irreparable harm. And yet, the Church cannot be responsible for the dawn of a new magical dynasty. That will certainly anger Spain and France.
"Convene the other cardinals," he finally instructs to a red-faced Vicenza.
Pope Paul knows he will have to take counsel before passing judgment on this crucial matter. The dominance of the Church lies on his hands.
Stafford House, London
August 1466
It is a dreary day in London; the blue sky now covered by dark, dense clouds. Unlike Lady Sarah, her new companion, Bonnie does not mind. There is little she loves more than the scent of rain-soaked soil as it floats through the wind. As a witch, Bonnie yearns to be around nature, something difficult to find in London. Too many people, too much noise.
But this, this is perfect, Bonnie muses with a little smile; filled with delight. Surrounded by roses, daisies, so much color and so much green, Bonnie is right at home. In that moment, she does not feel like the little transplant from Hertfordshire, the countryside. She could learn to love London, even if the air was too dense and all eyes were on her.
"How is it that you are able to be more beautiful than the most perfect of roses?" The familiar voice asks, and Bonnie does not need to turn around to see who stands behind her. The manner in which her stomach is overtaken by flutters – little ripples of excitement – is enough for Bonnie to know.
"Your Grace," Bonnie greets with a customary bow; displaying perfect composure even though she wants to leap into his arms like a child. "I never took you for a flatterer."
Her words are unexpected and he turns his head back with an amused chuckle. Oh, how he's missed her.
"But, my lady," Niklaus argues as he cuts the distance in between them with a few long strides. "Is it flatter if it is true?"
A small giggle escapes her lips, and Bonnie realizes it is no use attempting to pretend his charm does not affect her. As a matter of fact, pretending becomes almost impossible when Niklaus' hand touches her skin. It is a familiar gesture, and Bonnie wishes she could be immersed in his embrace.
"You are a true gentleman, sire," she murmurs; their eyes fixed on each other. Somehow, looking into the clear blue of his eyes, makes Bonnie feel vulnerable.
It is almost too much, and yet not enough, for she wants him so.
"Are you here for supper?" Bonnie asks in rushed words; already dreading his answer.
After weeks and weeks with nothing but brief visits – two months have passed since her investment ceremony- and rushed suppers, Bonnie is anxious to have him by her side. She is anxious to finally believe they can be properly together.
"Yes, but mostly, I am here to share rather important news."
The hairs on the back of Bonnie's neck stand up as soon as the words important news slip out of his lips. As a residence away from court, Stafford House may be relatively secluded, but it is not impenetrable to gossip. And it seems like the ladies do love to gossip.
"News? Do tell me!" Bonnie demands in a childish manner; all of the tutoring she's received on manners suddenly forgotten. Her Lady Grandmother would be quite cross if she ever saw her addressing the King in such a way.
"I'll tell you if you finally concede me a kiss, a proper kiss. It is quite treasonous that I haven't kissed your beautiful lips yet," he murmurs as the pad of his thumb touches her lower lip.
Bonnie, not at all expecting him to be so forward, is disarmed. As a lady who is expected to be virtuous, and serving in Queen Charlotte's pious court, she has no experience with kissing other men. All she knows are quick pecks on Hal's closed lips when they played as little kids. But the King is not a little kid. He's in his twenties, a man grown who wants her as a woman.
Suddenly, Bonnie is regretting not obtaining a less traditional education from the less virtuous ladies in France.
"May I?" he asks with such a soft voice that Bonnie would have consented to anything he asked of her.
"I- I only want to please you, sire," Bonnie breathes out, feeling the sudden flood of blood rushing up to her chest until it spreads over her face as her mind becomes blank. She cannot think anymore, not when his breath keeps tickling her neck, not when his lips are just a whisper away from touching her skin.
"I would like for us to please each other," Niklaus replies as he moves his left hand to the small of her back. Their bodies are so close that he can sense her rapid heartbeat against his chest.
Before Bonnie can utter a word, he leans down and covers her lips with his. The sensation is different, unfamiliar and just marvelous. His clean scent and his warmth envelop her in a way Bonnie didn't even think was possible.
"Was that a proper kiss?" Bonnie asks just as their lips part; the words flowing out of her mouth as her mind becomes blank.
His response to her curiosity comes in the form of a loud guffaw; one that makes Bonnie want to kiss him again and again.
"Not as proper as I would like, love," he admits, sliding both hands to her waist. There is much more that he would love to do to her, with her, but not before they are wed. He will not allow any rumors questioning her honor. "But I suppose I will not have to wait for much longer."
Bonnie cocks her head to the side; an unspoken question written on her face. The tone of his words is different. He does not sound merely hopeful. This time he sounds confident and at ease, almost as if he was privy to something she is not.
"The Pope, in all his wisdom, has granted my annulment. We are to be married, my love."
Even though Bonnie has spent months and months waiting to hear those words, she can hardly believe them to be true. After so much time, she's come to think she would spend the rest of her life hidden away in Stafford House as a Duchess, and yearning for a fraction of his attention.
"I have already given instructions to start preparations for our wedding," he tells her with a smile, keeping a strong arm around her waist to make sure she will not collapse. "It will be the grandest of celebrations as I have promised you. The whole of England will love you."
Her whole body trembles; the weight of her future finally settling over her shoulders. Queen of England. Mother of the future King.
God help her.
A/N: Here's another chapter! Thank you all for your amazing reviews, they always put a big smile on my face and make me want to write more and more! Unlike the real Pope Clement, Pope Paul realized the Catholic Church would lose England and decided to grant the dispensation. So, Klaus and Bonnie are to marry, but of course, court is a treacherous place even to the Queen. I've tried to include some back history of the past witch dynasty, and it will come up again. I'd love to hear your opinion! Hope to update soon!