"Hello, beautiful." The young king slurred as he fell into her arms like a bundle of jelly bones stinking of brandy. "How's doing tonight?"
When Lucette had woken up in the morning after her wedding night to a cold bed and empty presence, she cursed herself for feeling disappointed. For missing the warmth that radiated from him though it was icy cold from how far he slept within the tiny bed.
To her, marriage seemed a suitable escape. She hated Angielle and Angielle hated her right back, she hated every single soul on that land, and she especially loathed her father and step-family. All the involved would prefer not to have anything to do with each other, so committed herself to one selfless act in her life and abdicated her place on the succession in return for a handsome dowry and a foreign marriage. She wanted to try her luck somewhere else, somewhere people would not despise the sight of her, and this was her best shot. Perhaps, she would even have a family that could love her.
Her vision was red when her eyes first fell upon his velvet suit proud with military medals and honours. Klaude was in his uniform when he had spoken to her father first, in the castle at Angielle. The then-Crown Prince looked uncomfortable, forced even, but still, he had his charming smile on throughout the time Genaro pledged alliance and thrust her into his hands.
For his part, Genaro had been generous in his negotiations, undoubtedly to sate his wayward daughter and guarantee the throne for his favourite. He found the wealthiest, handsomest prince there was in the continent and gave them everything they could want if they just took her as a bride. He would pay any price to be rid of her, after all.
Six tedious months had passed and the silence grew in private, the extravagance still held its head high in public, announcing every inch of living thing that the heir to the throne is married. He has a new liability in his hands.
Lucette now makes a life in the court of Brugantia, a place full of excitement and glamour, somewhere completely opposed to the sober and austere Angielle. So different, except in one regard. Perhaps she expected too much. Perhaps she expected nothing. Yet, the little bit of something her husband always seemed to leave behind wrenched themselves into her heart, twisting and turning, but leaving a stupid smile lingering on her face.
She hated it. She hated him. She hated herself but she shook herself awake every day, wore her crown like the queen she had been taught to be and went on as if she were not littered with shards of fake endearments and burns from touches that should have been with love.
If one is to take the situation rationally, it is obvious that her marriage with the young king of Brugantia was just like every other royal one. For alliance and heir; never love. The only one who expected anything else out of it had been herself, while blinded by deep despair and loneliness.
The good that it did to her. Marry in haste, repent at leisure, as they say.
Lucette groaned, trying to hold him in her arms as Klaude sloppily slipped to the ground, giggling to himself. She had no idea where he had gone but she hoped it was a gibberish-King-friendly place.
"You are drunk!" She gagged accusingly.
She pulls the red-haired man up by his uniform with little to no regard if it would tear and remain in her tight clutch as the king made himself comfortable on the floor, not too unlike a bored cat.
"No, no." He waved a dismissive hand, probably hoping to swat her hold away but never being able to, suddenly pushing himself straight with newfound energy and vigour. "I'm just happy."
He spread his arms wide, hitting her in the chest as he did, like he was a bird flying in the air with its wings outstretched to the most as he glided to his bed, arms flowing in rhythm and flopped on it.
"We finished that dam project." The man whispered, staring at the ceiling as she cursed and walked to the bed. "So, Llama and I thought it would be wonderful to have a bit of celebration."
"Prince Lance and you?" She glared at him, pulling him up by the arm, shaking off the thought that she might rip it out of its socket.
Sitting Klaude up, she carefully unpinned his medals. Despite the feeling she had towards him, he was still a king and the medals spoke, especially because, for what she could gather, he actually deserved them for bravery and valour in battle, instead of pure vanity of his father's part. Not that she could attest to any of it herself, nor that the men in this dynasty are not quite vain.
Unpinning them also made sure they would not prick him, or her, in the night when he tossed around. She would prefer not to stain the new sheets red so soon, nor give false impressions to the chamber maids to gossip around the palace.
The king, the ingrate that he was, groaned, pushing her hands away.
"Alright, it was my idea but we both deserved a break." He thought for a second before adding, "And a bit of fun."
Lucette is afraid what "fun" they had, for she knew Klaude and his way of fun was never what she would describe it to be.
The man glanced up at his wife as stood trying to remove the medals from his uniform. They were a bit too much for her liking and she could not wait to get rid of the last two to move away from his prying gaze.
"You are very beautiful, Your Majesty." He whispered, earnestly, pulling her between his legs. "Have I ever told you that?"
Loads of time, for the people to see. She thought bitterly.
Instead of fighting him on the matter, the queen resorted to an uninterested hum as she furiously tried to ignore the way she stood with his chin pressed against her stomach and his arms wrapped around her waist. It was foreign and a fuel to both her hate and her guilty pleasures.
"Is that a no?" He cocked his head to a side. "If it's a no, then I'm probably the worst person you've ever seen."
"What would be so wrong with you?" She scowled.
Maybe it was merely an honest confusion, but deep down Lucette knew it was just the disbelief voicing its twisted thoughts.
Klaude chuckled, burying his head into her stomach bringing back those burns which she always felt whenever he acted like a loving husband. Naturally, those fleeting moments are the only thing that she wants out of him, pity that they tend to be rare, and so they also accentuate her sense of betrayal and abandonment.
This time, though, the burns brought a sense of soothing along with them.
"I must be an absolute idiot if I hadn't acknowledged your striking beauty." He sighed dreamily, holding her hands gently, as he stared at his wife with his genuinely handsome smile. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Not person, of course, I'm still the most beautiful person in the world."
Klaude giggled, falling back onto the bed, pulling her down with him. She slammed a hand against his chest in a desperate attempt to stop herself from falling. He coughed and pulled she down to him, her head laying on his arm.
This was the closest the two of them ever had been in private and Lucette tried to relish in the feeling of it, for she does not know when she would feel it again.
"Beauty and brawn, I see." He chuckled; the stink of brandy on his breath fought the blissful sensation of his nimble fingers twisting strands of her hair. "I must be the most brilliant man to choose such a wonderful queen."
"You are not exactly brilliant, per se, and you did not choose a thing. It was chosen for you." She mumbled.
Her hands itched to push him to the ground and let him sleep on the dirty rug, but her heart hoped to stay in his stinky arms and listen to him speak even if he would not remember it the next morning.
"Oh, is it?" The red-haired man let his voice drop as if ashamed to speak but he had a dreamy smile on his face. "I wouldn't disagree with you on that. Not now."
He buried his face into her hair, holding Lucette close in his arms. She let herself be relaxed against his chest, having her nose buried in the crook of his neck, smelling the faint smell of rose cologne that he put on that morning. The part of her that valued self-esteem screamed for her to pull away but her body simply resisted.
Perhaps, she is exhausted. Perhaps, she just wants to be fooled and humiliated this time.
"The dam project we completed?" He spoke, suddenly, rubbing her arm. "I wanted to name it after you, but not quite literally, 'cause it would be too weird. And then I didn't know how you'd react so, I panicked and named it after me."
Lucette chuckled into his chest. It was the most Klaude thing he could do, to name a dam after himself, but he was the king, after all, and everyone indulged his comic narcissism. Including herself.
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, her body slowly moulding against his, the steady rhythm of his heart lulling her into a sleepy state like the melody of a siren drawing her to the waters.
Klaude's fingers slowly came to halt, his breathing steady and even and before she knew he was completely asleep, he whispered into the night, "I love you, my beautiful wife."
Tears sprang free from her eyes, seeping into his uniform. She held onto him, tightly as if it would prevent him from forgetting the words that seductively echoed in her ears. She hated it but she also loved it.
Lucette is not going to leave him hanging so she whispered into his ears, just for him to hear, "I love you, too."
It was a hazy mess when Lucette had woken up the next day, safe in the arms of her husband who she had cried against the night before.
The blanket was messily weaved around the both of her after she somehow managed to sleep properly without her legs hanging over the edge.
"You are tickling me." Klaude mumbled, his voice hoarse as he groaned, burying his head further into her hair and pulling her tight against his chest. "And my head feels like it's about split into two. And the entire room stinks."
"Not the entire room. It is just you, Your Majesty." She whispered, untangling herself from the blanket that she had just realised was the bedsheet.
Before she could stand up, though, her husband pulled her back to his side, consciously wrapping his arms around her waist.
"You know, most people think that one does not remember the nonsense they spoke when they were drunk." He said, pulling away to rest his cheek against his palm, the dreamy smile from the night before returned to his lips, dancing with a hint of smirk. "But one cannot forget love confessions, darling."
"Shut up." Lucette looked away trying to mask her panic.
Did he hear what she said? Did he feel her tears? What did it do to him? And above all, is this just another elaborate plan of his? Some selfish high that he is chasing?
As if he could hear her thoughts, he said, "I have no idea what nonsense I spoke the last night, but what I said was a complete truth."
"Did you hit your head or something?" She looked back at him with utter disbelief.
"No, I am quite alright, but it does feel like I have an entire palace inhabited by elephants on top of my head." He nodded, pointing to the side of his forehead.
She narrows her eyes at him. "That is oddly specific, Your Majesty."
He half-smirks, his eyes rather droopy. "I swear on my great grandmother's diamond ring that I did not do anything untoward or immoral."
Lucette sighs in response. "That is even more specific and now I am worried about how you feel."
"You worry about me, my love?" Klaude pressed a kiss to her cheek, staring at her like he always did at parties hosted by noblemen and processions held for the public's view.
"I actually felt bad for you when I first saw you." He twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. "You looked so sad and so out of place, and I knew that you were trying to escape your father's realm. And then you were absolutely magical as a queen! I was always proud of you when you were with me at the council and bashed that ambassador for his ridiculous policies."
The woman stared at him. She wanted to decipher what was going on, but the moment soothed her aching heart and patched up her scars so she stayed silent, not wanting to wrench the knives any further.
"I love you, and I am so sorry I did not truly tell you this for all these months we have been married." He sighed. "I was planning to make huge confession letters and such but my drunk self seems to not like the idea."
Lucette let out a breath of relief, pulling him close to make sure this is not all her mind playing cruel tricks. That, from this day on, she could make herself a place to love and be loved.
Klaude seemed to understand it, for he held her tighter and whispered, "I am right here."
Chuckling into his neck, she said, "I loved your drunk self."
"Trust me, you are going to see more of him." She glared at him, which prompted him to defend himself. "Without the brandy, of course."
"So, are you going to get up and do something productive?" The queen asked, pulling away with a sure smirk dancing on her face.
"No, certainly not." Klaude pinched her nose. "I am going to spend the day here, with my beautiful wife."
He, then, pressed his lips against hers in a passionate kiss.
Lucette felt hope for once in a very long time, because she knew that her husband would try to soothe her painful past. She knows he can be a good man, even if she is rather vexed with his behaviour every once in a while.
She would be alright. She would have Klaude to break her fall because she held onto his words, his confession. She would trust him. In time, everything will be alright.