A/N: I have to start by saying a HUGE thank you to everyone who checked out the first chapter and most especially to those who reviewed. It meant the world to me!
One little note, cause I know most people who read Cedric/Sofia fics are as diehard about this pairing as I am, this story is rated M cause there's going to be lemons. Despite the fact Sofia was married and some other stuff that will be alluded to starting at the end of this chapter, those lemons will only be between our fav duo. I don't overly enjoy writing lemons (though I love, love, love reading them) and so I have to really want to see the people I'm writing about get busy to make them happen! But I'm trying to write a more realistic, hopefully more worldly, Sofia. So she's going to do some worldlier things.
2.
"Will you take a walk with me tomorrow?" She asked at his door, not sure if she was feeling empowered by her newly won freedom or by the copious amounts of alcohol running through her system.
"You know how I despise exercise Sofia." He reminded her crankily instead of answering.
Still, she was heartened to hear her name from his lips instead of her title. She knew Cedric used it like a shield sometimes, though she'd never been sure what exactly he was defending against. They should have been past such evasions long ago.
"I do, but you still need it. What if we go herb picking while we're out?" She offered.
One of his eyebrows went up and the side of his mouth quirked in mock villainy. "Will you pick the thorny blackberry?"
She snorted.
"And here I thought to offer the pleasure of my company when really you're just interested in sparing your delicate fingers a scratching." Sofia crossed her arms and pouted in a way she well knew was beguiling, boarding on flirtatious. And as she did, it became obvious to her this courage was all what he'd poured in her glass.
"Nonsense, you know I love your company and your tiny hands, what with their ability to grasp in between the prickers. I'm merely trying to combine my loves that's all."
"You do know how to pluck the strings of my vanity. Very well, if you'll come for a walk with me, I'll pick the thorny blackberry."
"Excellent, let's say…before tea tomorrow? Then you can have the honor of hauling my old, exhausted bones back up here, tucking me in my chair, and making me a nice warm cup to revive my spirits."
"You make it sound as though I should skip the gardens and just walk you straight to the undertaker instead?" She chuckled before sobering slightly in the face of a memory which still haunted her nightmares. "You know by now I won't let you shrug off this mortal coil so easily."
Cedric grumbled something under his breath, but then took her hand quite unexpectedly. He squeezed it between both his own for a moment, before dropping it just as suddenly and stepping back over the threshold of his workshop.
"Before tea tomorrow." He repeated.
"Before tea," she confirmed, not waiting for him to close the door on her before turning to descend the tower steps.
.o~O*O~o.
Sofia had barely enough time to return to her room and change out of her travel gown before Baileywick was knocking on her door.
"Good evening Princess, I've come to escort you to dinner." There was only a small reserved smile on the steward's face, but Sofia knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have come unless he was really and truly delighted to see her.
"That's so kind of you Baileywick. I think I'm all ready?" She said, turning a small circle so he could inspect her dinner gown.
He gave a small tsk in response and walked behind her, pulling a miniscule piece of lint from her black satin gown.
"Now you're ready," He stated matter-of-factly, giving her a nod of approval before offering his arm.
Sofia noticed he was walking a great deal more stiffly than he had been earlier in the day, but wondered if there was any appropriate way to bring it up with him. Baileywick was gentle, kind, and caring but he was also persnickety when it came to the proper way of things. Now she was a grown woman, she very much doubted he would be comfortable allowing her to fuss after him or help him with his duties.
It struck her, not for the first time, how much they'd all indulged her as a child. How there seemed to be some unspoken agreement among the adults in her life to allow her to get away with things no one else would have been permitted to even entertain the notion of.
She'd been Baileywick's assistant for a day, Cedric's apprentice in a loose sense for many years. She'd been the first princess to race in the flying derby, or be a buttercup. She'd been a founding member of the Princess Adventure Club, and been given an almost unimaginable amount of free time, which she'd used to have untold adventures all on her own.
Perhaps that was why the sudden tightening of her lead had felt so severe, so much like the end of the world all those years ago. Because she honestly couldn't say her life had been horrible. Far from it. She'd been through her fair share of difficulties and sorrows, but her life was still charmed by anyone's standards. Perhaps it was simply that her childhood had led her to believe her future was boundless in a way which was utterly impractical in the adult world of duty and responsibility.
Turning to her friend she wished she could tell him she was grateful for all he'd given her in the years she'd spent here. She would never change those days, even if she'd known then how different the ones to come after would be.
Instead she gave him another warm smile and determined to ask Cedric for some sort of potion or tonic that might help ease Baileywick's aches and pains. She would probably get a sour expression and a lecture on all the ways in which the steward was 'literally' the most irksome, unpleasant person on earth, but even though he would hem and haw, she knew in the end Cedric would do it…for her.
"If you need anything…." Baileywick began only to have Sofia wave him off.
"I know what to do. You get your own supper and a little rest now." She added the last softly and was relieved to see him smile indulgently at her forwardness.
Stepping through the double doors she found dinner to be a far more crowded and much happier experience. James and Vivian were back form the circus and the children were recounting, in painstaking detail, everything they'd loved about the performance.
When she entered everyone stopped and stared at her in surprise. Apparently Rolland hadn't felt like telling them she was here.
"Sof!" James was up out of his chair and bounding up to grab her in a bear hug that lifted her feet from the floor, swinging her around several times.
"Hey big brother!" She laughed, hugging him back tightly.
Once she was back on the ground Vivian and the girls surrounded her and there was more embracing.
"Sofia what are you doing here?" Vivian asked as Sofia kneeled down to the girls' height.
"Oh I just thought I'd drop by and spend some time with my favorite brother, sister-in-law, and nieces." She lied before taking Princess Rosamund's shoulders in her hands and holding her eldest niece out for inspection. "My how you girls have grown!" She exclaimed.
"I'm four and half feet tall now!" the eight year old declared proudly.
"Is that so? You're going to be as statuesque as your Aunt Amber, I can tell." Sofia replied. Her niece preened under the praise as Sofia had intended. Amber was Rosamund's idol. The personification of all things princessly, beautiful, and fashionable which the little girl adored.
"Do you really think so?" She asked, excited. The eldest princess turned a circle so Sofia could examine her pretty green velvet dress and long blond hair, curled into perfect ringlets.
"I do!" Sofia assured before turning to her younger sister. "And let me see you Princess Lynnette."
The five year old, who had been patiently waiting for her Aunt's attention, now threw herself at Sofia for one more hug.
"Ohh, I've missed you too lovely!" Sofia said, squeezing the little one tight.
Sofia would never admit to it, but Lynnette was her favorite niece. The little girl was bright, energetic, and unfailingly optimistic from the ends of her silky black hair to the tips of her still chubby, baby-esque toes. She reminded Sofia of everything that was good in the world, everything that could still be bright and hopeful and sweet.
"Daddy said I can have a pony for Wasallia this year," the little girl told her excitedly, "when she comes will you teach me how to ride?"
Sofia looked at James and Vivian silently asking if it would be alright, not just for her to teach Lynnette, but to come for Wasallia.
"Of course she can!" James chimed in, "and if you bring Frederick with you, we'll have someone to keep Rosie occupied too!"
Sofia turned in time to see her eldest niece blush a bright, humiliated, shade of scarlet. It was no secret to anyone the crown Princess of Enchancia had an enormous crush on the Crown Prince of Freezenburg, though she would have rather died than declare it. And as yet, neither she or James had the heart to explain to her that two first heirs couldn't marry because it would mean combining their kingdoms.
Sofia felt herself stiffen, and shot James a dirty look. It soured her mood to realize Rosamund wasn't even ten and her first dream was already about to be crushed. All she could hope was, being eight, and so much more like Amber than herself, her niece would grow out of her crush long before it became an issue to be worried over.
Standing with each girls' hand in one of her own, she tried to do mitigate Rosamund's embarrassment and her expectations as she led them back to the table.
"We'll see if Frederick can come or not. His grandpapa, King Henrik, might want him to stay in Freezenburg for the holiday.
This seemed to end the matter and they all sat down and listened as the girls began to recount their afternoon at the circus, from the beginning, for Sofia's benefit.
As they talked Sofia took in the warmth of the room, the coziness of a quiet family dinner, and was almost startled by the intimacy of it all.
Sofia never realized, when she was little, having a meal privately with her family was a privilege to be cherished. It was simply the way King Rolland did things and because her disillusionment had come painfully late, she'd always assumed every place was like Enchancia.
Which had left her astonished when she arrived in Freezenburg to find the palace was home not only to the royal family but a full court the King kept about him at all times. Lords, Earls, Marquises, and Dukes were on hand at any time of day or night to wait on him or simply chum about with, along with their families, servants, and hangers on. Instead of a single grand table filled with family, the banquet hall of the Icicle palace was overflowing with long trestle tables bursting with people, all who came to watch the royal family as much as they hoped to be seen by them….
"Your normal place will be here, Princess." Sofia turned, startled by the sound of the Duchess's voice despite the fact she'd known the woman was right beside her the whole time.
Nerves were making her jittery in the most embarrassing of ways and the talent she usually had for fitting in anywhere with anyone felt as though it had inexplicably deserted her in her hour of greatest need.
"Thank you Your Grace." Sofia replied distractedly as she sat to the left of King Henrik at the high table.
Her husband Prince Carl Henrik was sitting at his father's right hand and though Sofia was sure she shouldn't admit it, she was glad for the buffer that was the King's person. After pursuing her with such single-minded determination the prince seemed to barely acknowledge her existence now he'd brought her home. Begrudgingly she admitted to being not just confused, but hurt by his sudden indifference.
With her family finally returned to Enchancia just that morning Sofia had never felt more alone or more vulnerable. Until now the most trying days of her life had been the first weeks after she'd moved from Dunwitty to her father's castle. But even then she'd had her mother with her, she'd been able to see Ruby and Jade, and she'd made friends with Clover, Mia, and Robin thanks to King Rolland's generous gift of the amulet of Avalor.
The amulet was back in Enchancia with her family. Clover, Mia, and Robin had left this life a long time ago, and so far she hadn't found anyone who wanted to know her in any meaningful way like Cedric, Baileywick, and James had when she was little. With even her own husband ignoring her, she'd begun to feel as though she were drowning.
Never more so than now when she faced the crowded room so the nobles below the high table, squished shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee, trying not to knock elbows as they supped, could watch her like a zoo animal as she ate. It made her terrified to do even a single human thing, like fumble one of her utensils, or take a bite bigger than a nibble, lest it cause sauce to spill on her dress.
"You should have some of your soup, princess. If you don't you'll be thought to be snubbing the chef." Sofia turned to see one of her ladies sitting next to her.
This was another thing she hadn't been prepared for. With Hildegard and her older sister Astrid already married and gone, all the wives and daughters of the court spent their days in her rooms. Ostensibly they were there as her servants, attending her and keeping her company, but she'd been informed it was also one of her duties as crown princess to guide their behavior, find the unmarried ones good matches, and in practicality she was also responsible for entertaining them and keeping them out of trouble.
Sofia had always thought of herself as a people person but there was something excruciatingly exhausting about constantly having fifty people at your elbow, all expecting you to be the perfect model of princess-hood and by extension womanhood.
Her principle lady in waiting, Anna-Grete Von Strassenburg, the Duchess of Dusselstein, was in charge of her and all the women who filled her rooms. She was at least two decades older than Sofia and had been a close friend of the late Queen. King Henrik had asked the formidably elegant woman to take the new Crown Princess under her wing and teach her how to fit in at court. And though Sofia wouldn't call her a friend, as yet, she was already becoming dependent on the refined and respected woman.
At the moment she was sitting just to the right of this younger lady and gave Sofia a subtle nod, letting her know the other woman's words were correct.
Picking up her soup spoon, happy at least she'd been prepared to know which one was which by her life in Enchancia, she struggled to remember this girl's name.
"You're…," Sofia felt herself begin to panic. She knew her name, she did, she'd never been bad at remembering names before!
"Elena Volenski, Your Highness, I'm the Countess of Ormandy." Rather than be offended, as Freezenburgers seemed wont to do at even the slightest provocation, the Countess, who couldn't have been much older than Sofia, gave her a mischievous smile. "Don't worry, between the old bat and me, we'll get you settled in in no time!"
Sofia almost snorted her soup, not the least because the bug eyed look of anger that broke out on the Duchess's face was a thing of true brilliance, as James would say.
"You will watch your tongue, madam!" The Duchess spat just under her breath.
Far from being cowed, the young woman waved her soup spoon in front of the older's face.
"Don't get high and mighty with me Your Grace. You know this is too big a job for one person. Even one of your…sizable talent." Elena laughed, another wicked little sound, and Sofia found herself, if not liking the girl, at least relaxing in her brash company. Despite the fact she was sure the countess had just insulted them both in one fell swoop.
"Oh hush you little harpy," the Duchess commanded. "If you want to be of help start pointing out the important nobles to her Highness!"
Dinner passed on like that, with Elena pointing people out less than subtly, making the most salacious comments about each one, and Sofia and the Duchess listening on in shocked silence, unsure whether they should be amused or scandalized.
Hours later, when the meal was finally over, Sofia found herself feeling more confident of coping in her new life than she had in the entire two weeks she'd been in Freezenburg. Elena was sarcastic and ridiculously blunt, but nothing she said about anyone, except perhaps the Duchess, was actually mean spirited. And even there the two women seemed to have some understanding that never let their barbs cross over into actual cuts.
After taking leave of the King, Sofia and her ladies repaired to her chambers and sat before the fire listening to Elena play some of Freezenburg's traditional folk ballads, until a messenger appeared at the door.
The Prince would be visiting her chamber within the hour.
Suddenly there was ordered chaos. Ladies began to tidy the room, others went through to her bedroom and began turning down sheets, stoking the fireplaces, preparing warming pans, and laying out her night clothes. Still others, Elena and Anna-Grete among them, pushed her through to her little dressing room and began the arduous process of removing her attire.
Forty-five minutes later there was a knock at the door and the Prince was ushered in wearing only his shirt, dinner pants, and knee boots.
The ladies all made exclamations over his handsomeness and his lack of clothing and then bowed their way out tittering and whispering to each other behind fans and fluttered hands.
For the first time since her wedding two weeks ago, Sofia found herself utterly alone save for this man who was now her husband.
Looking him over Sofia couldn't deny he was handsome. With his wavy, luxuriant black hair, piercing gray eyes, chiseled jawline, and even more chiseled physique he was the physical epitome of the perfect Prince Charming.
He was five years older than Hildegard but despite this they seemed to be ridiculously close. Two arrogant, overbearing peas in a pod. And though Sofia had counted his sister one of her friends at school, she'd never imagined she'd have to endure being married to her male counterpart.
Not that she'd spent much time feeling married to him in the last two weeks. Other than their wedding night, when he'd been so drunk he'd passed out while pawing at her breasts, she hadn't seen him more than twice. And even then they hadn't been alone.
He walked up to her now, without saying a word and pulled her against him roughly, bending low to bury his face in her hair.
Sofia heard his intake of breath, felt the shudder that immediately followed, and felt herself growing hot…with anger. Was this it? He wasn't even going to talk to her? With strength from she hardly knew where, she pushed him away.
His only response was to gape at her dumbfounded.
"Aren't you going to say something to me? Ask me how I am. How I've been getting along. Maybe tell me why you haven't bothered to spend any time with me in the last two weeks?"
It wasn't like her to start an argument.
Sofia had always tried her hardest to make a friend out of everyone around her. Knowing she was being purposefully antagonistic left her feeling rueful before she was even done speaking. But for some reason she wanted to feel angry right now. She didn't examine this desire to closely, worried she might find she preferred appearing hostile to showing fear.
And she was afraid. Just underneath her anger she was quaking at the thought of what he'd come for and how he'd take it.
For his part, Carl looked truly puzzled. Despite this, his anger seemed more than willing to match her own even with only a moment's notice.
"Why on earth would I have come and asked you how you're doing? I'm your husband not your best girlfriend. I've made sure you're surrounded with plenty of companions to look after your every need and ask after your every stray thought. If you aren't how you want to be than take it up with them."
Sofia was so shocked she barely realized she'd begun to retreat from him till she was on the other side of the bed. The idea he could be so careless of her was like a shock of cold water in her face. It went against everything she understood, not just about his supposed feelings for her, but about life and relationships and marriage too.
King Rolland had married her mother for love. They were each other's favorite companions, each other's partners not just in life but in ruling Enchancia. They tried to spend some part of every day together and they slept side by side every night, not even bothering with the pretense of separate bedrooms.
When he'd gone to Rolland, Carl had professed to be desperate to make her his wife. It was part, if only a small part, of what had made Rolland accept him. It had seemed a neatly tied up package. A closer tie to Freezenburg, riches and wealth exchanged between them, and on top of it all a husband who would care for her.
Rolland had assured her this was all that was truly necessary. If Carl cared her, in time she'd come to reciprocate. That was how things worked, he'd told her, even as she'd cried and begged him to respect the fact she didn't want to marry him, couldn't envision spending the rest of her life with him.
"I don't understand, all those things you said to my father. How you couldn't imagine having any other Queen. If you feel that way, why wouldn't you want to spend time with me?"
He broke into a smile at her confusion, but Sofia quickly realized his expression wasn't meant to calm her in any way. In fact, his smile was actually contemptuous and that contempt was aimed straight at her.
"Of course I couldn't imagine having any other Queen. You're the best." He said as if that was some sort of explanation.
"The best?" She echoed only more confused.
"Yes, you're the best. You're the most beautiful girl at Royal Prep, besides my sister, and you come from the richest kingdom, beside Freezenburg. That makes you the best, and I don't settle for anything less."
Sofia stared at him horrified.
"You married me because I'm pretty?" The words stuck on her tongue like sand paper, coming out rather more croaked than spoken. "You went behind my back to my father after I'd already turned you down and convinced him to let you take me away from everything I've ever known, my family, my friends, the person I cared for most in the world, because I was pretty?"
Her husband crossed his arms over his chest, looking well and truly exasperated now.
"I suppose you're taking about that old Sorcerer of your father's," he huffed. "Hildegard warned me about your attachment to him, but I didn't see much to worry about while he was here. He seemed more like a shadow than a person anyway.
As to the rest of it, you had to marry someone at some point and it wasn't going to be him. You should be glad someone from such a noble, illustrious family wanted you. Freezenburg might have a great deal of snow, but we're also incredibly wealthy and respected. You'll be a Queen, your son will be a King, and you won't ever want for anything. What more could you possibly ask for?"
"I never had any notion of marrying Mr. Cedric," she blurted out, for what reason she wasn't sure. Maybe it was just the easiest of the mountain of unpleasant truths he'd dumped on her head.
They stared each other down from across the vast expanse of the mattress for she didn't know how long. Him angry and her trying to piece back together what was left of the dreams she had for her future.
Finally, the breath she'd been holding let out and her shoulders slumped. No matter how hurt and disappointed she was, the rational side of her knew she couldn't stay angry at him for the rest of their lives.
He seemed utterly uninterested in being close to her, or having anything to do with her really, so she knew she would have all the time in the world to work through the bitterness that was suddenly hardening inside her.
Right now what she needed, what he might actually be willing to give her, was an idea of what she should expect from this marriage.
"Perhaps we should have a conversation now it would have been better to have had before we said I do." She started.
He shrugged at her as though he had long ago become bored with anything she might want to say, and threw himself on the bed, boots and all.
Sighing she attempted to keep her temper from boiling over again.
"Exactly what is it you expect of me as your wife?" The words were nearly growled, but they came out clearly, so she couldn't understand why he turned to her as though she were an idiot.
Rolling his eyes he began ticking off his meager requirements on large, perfectly manicured fingers.
"I expect you to be by my side, smiling and gracious, at all public events. I expect you to make yourself available for any personal engagements I might need you to attend. I expect you to give Freezenburg heirs, and I expect you to take your emotional outbursts elsewhere. When we're together I want to enjoy myself, not listen to a litany of nagging complaints."
Sofia nodded her head, pushing her anger so far down she was fairly certain she'd succeeded in turning off her emotions all together.
"Good, now come here so we can start working on the heir part." …..
Shaking off bad memories, Sofia stood up from the dinner table and bid good night to the King. Giving James, Vivian, and the girls one more hug she left the hall to return to her room.
"Princess Sofia! Are you retiring already?" Violet's kind voice questioned from her closet as she swept back the pocket doors.
"I think so. I'm tired from traveling. I think I'll change out of this monstrosity and then just write a quick letter to my son before bed."
Sofia enjoyed the feeling of only a single person pulling and pushing at her rather than a whole sea of women, trying to move her in every direction at once.
It took a little longer than in Freezenburg, but eventually the corset and petticoats came off, her hair was brought down, and Sofia was left in just her shift and a fine loose dressing gown.
Taking the first real breath of the day, she gave Violet a small hug and turned to pull out a quill and paper from her tiny desk.
Her words flowed freely onto the page, outpourings of the motherly love she wished she could give her son in person. When she finished she let the letter dry on her desk and made her way to the vast emptiness of her old bed. Getting between the fine, soft sheets Sofia turned to look out her window.
The night was clear, the moon illuminating the world outside with a soft glow. Taking it in Sofia felt the relief she'd felt every night for the last six months knowing she need never dread her husband coming to her room again. And yet…it had been so long since anyone had held her at night. Never Carl of course, but there had been others: a knight, a few noblemen, once a visiting dignitary. They'd graced her bed for a time and taught her what it meant to actually derive pleasure from the act Carl seemed to think was solely for his own satisfaction.
But it had been years since she'd had such a tryst. They'd ceased to hold any appeal to her after she'd nearly lost….
Balling the sheets in her fist, Sofia squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the view from her window and feeling the old frustration and hopelessness rolling over. She knew it was hopeless. She had for fifteen years now. It was just being home, she told herself. It always made her feel like a little girl, convincing her anything was possible, only to end up slapped in the face by reality when she left. Still, she was free now, something she'd also believed impossible not that long ago.
Was it so wrong to hope?