Klara found herself taking up a mountainous task she had been avoiding for days since her marriage.
Checking her cell phone.
While Viktor was off doing whatever he did to afford such a luxurious lifestyle, Klara was working on crafting a few white lies for her loved ones before she and Viktor went public with the marriage, she wrote them down in her notes app so she could keep track.
Klara first called her sister.
"You were right." Klara said after the two sisters greeted each other on the phone. "He was thrilled, I'm basically part of the family now." Klara decided to not tell her sister about their marriage yet, not wanting to cause alarm. It's not like anyone could get her out of a marriage with an exceedingly wealthy prince. "I mean, really thrilled."
"I told you he would be." Lillian said with a laugh. There was a rustle of the mic before a familiar voice came from the other end.
"Auntie, Is it true you're having a baby?"
"Yes, McKenzie."
"I hope it's a boy!" Mason piped up in the background.
"It's not going to be a boy, it's going to be a girl!" McKenzie snapped back at her younger brother.
"I don't know if my baby is a boy or a girl yet, but I will call you right away when I find out." Klara said before the mic rustled again, followed by a high pitched squeal.
"Auntie Kawa!" Braeden's toddler babble made Klara grin from ear to ear.
"Hi Braeden."
"Can you tell Auntie what you did today?" Lil asked Braeden.
"I feed fish!" The toddler said, pride radiating from his little voice. "Shake shake shake." Klara couldn't see the toddler clumsily mimicking the movement of shaking the contents of a fish food container into an aquarium.
"You fed the fish? Wow! Great job!" She praised her nephew.
"Fish get hungwy and then, and then we feed them."
Klara finished talking to her sister, nieces (Paisley cooed into the phone), and nephews before answering the calls of her main friend group.
"Klara, where are you? We've been worried sick!" Emma was an English girl who studied in Austria with Klara.
"I got promoted at work, I can't really say much about it, but I'm working more directly with the royals and have been traveling a lot." Klara would say in response when her friends asked where she was.
"That's great! Why didn't you tell us you got promoted?" Her friend Ava, an Austrian law major, asked in the call Klara made to her.
"It was sudden and I've been so busy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."
"We should get together at the café." Yasmeen, second generation Afghani-Austrian, suggested when Klara called her.
"It's going to be a while before I have an opportunity to see you guys again." Klara said whenever one of her friends suggested they go to the café to catch up.
"No worries, just keep in touch." Another Austrian friend, Mary, reassured Klara. "We've all been getting less social since college ended."
"No kidding." Klara said with a laugh.
"Have you met any of the royals?" Yasmeen asked during her call.
"I've met the crown prince, but no one else." Klara decided to offer a little dose of the truth.
"The new one? He's kind of handsome."
"He is." Klara was caught off guard. "Umm... yeah, he's very handsome, actually."
"Not even a month ago you wouldn't have said that about anyone other than Johann."
"Yeah." Klara said with a smile. "I guess this job has been good for me."
"Don't go getting your heart broken by a prince."
"Don't worry, I know he's out of my league, it's just a nice little fantasy to indulge in."
When Klara finished her phone calls, she went into deep thought.
The idea of fucking a prince was a nice little fantasy to indulge in, but this was her life now. She was an actual princess, she was that special girl who would be granted a Cinderella story and get her Prince Charming after a girlhood of Disney and dress-up.
But it came with a high, deeply unsettling price that she should have regretted paying with her whole being, but, she supposed, 'Prince Charming' was called that for a reason. A heroic prince would not have been known for his charms, but for his good deeds. Her prince was cunning and seductive, luring her further down a path of evil deeds and lavishing her with the sumptuous rewards those deeds had to offer.
She was still contending with the fact her husband was construing a woman as crazy in order to gain access to her child.
She was still putty in his hands when he called her a good girl while fucking her. Blood still tinged her cheeks and elation lifted the weight of her mind when he kissed her.
Today, the newest sumptuous reward came in the form of Richard Archambault designing her a wardrobe, and bringing some pieces he thought would suit her that she could wear before her wardrobe was finished. It was late morning when he arrived.
Archambault was a remarkably tall man who looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed in all black, which looked sophisticated on him rather than gothic. His body was masculine enough that even with his impeccable, near-perfectionist grooming habits, he might have avoided homophobic slurs in Klara's small town. He had sharp, wolfish blue eyes that stood out against his dark hair.
Viktor told Klara that Archambault was 'as gay as he is French' the night before, making sure she didn't take issue with it, but Klara was more liberal than Viktor had given a girl from a flyover state credit for.
"Your highness." Archambault greeted Klara.
Two words spoken and already there was no denying that Archambault was French.
"Its nice to meet you." Klara allowed the Frenchman to kiss her cheeks. She imagined this man was probably a legend, perhaps a God in the French gay community.
"I can see why my dear friend had me design a gown for you. You are a fresh breath of life into the royal family."
"It's very kind that you'd say that, thank you." Klara blushed, it was nice to not just feel accepted, but welcomed.
"I'll have to dress you differently than most women who come to me, they're generally sharper, slimmer. I play to each woman's strengths and rarely do I get someone so... feminine." Archambault explained before unzipping one of the garment bags, holding up a dove grey coat. "Very new look inspired, but not like a costume." He said when he put the coat on her. Klara buttoned it up and looked in the full length mirror, the bodice of the coat was fitted and the bottom flared out and hit her calves. It did suit her figure, and the dove grey suited her hair and her eyes.
"It's beautiful." Klara said.
"It's meant to be more for special occasions, but this silhouette doesn't look contrived on your figure." Archambault told her. "Now, seeing as maternal wear will require more maintenance, I will be making myself available to you. If anything doesn't fit right throughout your pregnancy, contact me immediately, your husband has my number, and the both of us want you to look your absolute best." Archambault told her, less a gesture of kindness and more about making sure his brand wasn't involved in a fashion faux pax.
"Thank you." Klara said, not realizing there was an ulterior motive to his kindness.
Hours of sketching, measuring, and comparing fabric swatches, Archambault had an idea of the sorts of garments he'd be making. Klara was now dressed in a modest, understated white dress underneath the dove grey coat, a pair of nude heels giving her a clean look. Klara became more communicative the more she understood what her options were, asking questions and making suggestions, making the French designer relieved that he didn't have to completely lead her around.
They were interrupted when her husband arrived.
"You look just ravishing." Viktor kissed his wife deeply before addressing his friend. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner, my agenda has been torturous ."
"Heavy is the crown." Archambault said.
"Indeed." Viktor said, looking back to his wife, who was curiously focused on his sleeve. Viktor glanced down to find Sebastian's blood staining his white shirt sleeve. He had indulged in some of the torture Sebastian was subjected to, drawing as much information out of him as he did blood.
"Klara, don't you have an etiquette lesson to attend in five minutes?" Viktor asked his wife.
"Yes, I believe I do." Klara was unnerved, Viktor's features and tone communicated that he wasn't to be disobeyed after he knew she saw blood on his sleeve. "It was nice to meet you." Klara told Archambault before leaving to the unexpected haven of her evening etiquette lesson.
"The pleasure was mine, your highness." Archambault replied, watching his friend's wife nervously leave before turning to the prince. "Interesting choice of wife."
"She wouldn't be if she wasn't pregnant."
"So, the pretty slut from some backwater town was able to do the job aristocratic women couldn't." Archambault bantered the prince for the way he had previously talked about his wife, he was one of the few people who could get away with that.
"It would seem so." Viktor's body flooded with guilt, cringing at his past words.
"Well, congratulations, my friend."
"Thank you. I'm optimistic that our marriage will be fruitful."
"You deserve it, the crown, the woman, the children, all of it."
"I've certainly suffered enough for it."
"Though I must say, you spoke wrongly of your bride."
"What do you mean?"
"When you told me she was a common beauty, I did not expect her to have those bewitching eyes."
"I may have been unfairly crude when speaking about her."
"I will take your secret to the grave." Richard smirked. "I know I'm a man of... different proclivities , but I know beauty when I see it. Though I'm surprised you went for a woman so plump."
"You need to get out of the studio more, any red blooded man would kill to take her to bed." Viktor laughed at the absurdity of his friend's statement. Klara's waist hadn't been much larger than a runway model's when they met. "I need her to have healthy children, not strut on a catwalk, and her body certainly looks fit for the former."
"Fair enough."
"She's a healthy, vibrant young woman, perhaps not the most intellectually stimulating, but she's affectionate and agreeable more often than not. I'm hoping her being in this family doesn't destroy her."
"You're afraid she's going to bleach her hair, lose twenty pounds to be fashionable, take to day drinking, and start telling you what to do."
"Nothing would be worse." Viktor shuddered at the image, he could practically feel her silky hair turning into straw underneath his fingers.
"You'll have to have her on a tight leash."
"I intend to." Viktor wasn't going to tell Archambault about the guardianship, he didn't need to know.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a chauvinist?" It wasn't a criticism. Viktor laughed at the comment.
"It's funny you ask that, my wife and I had a spat and she called me a sexist pig, but my strong little feminist wasn't too vexed, seeing as she was on her back and begging for my cock in the same hour."
"The lady doth protest too much."
"She's naturally submissive but has guilt about it, you can practically see the gears turning in her mind before she says something her Die Grünen ex-boyfriend probably taught her."
"Girlfriend of some Die Grünen burnout to the Kronenberg crown princess, I can't think of a more meteoric rise."
"Neither can I, now that you mention it." Viktor sighed. "She's receptive to correction and training, which will make things easier for me. Ingrid told me she tried to be some reincarnate Princess Diana, so modestly rejecting her title." His voice laced with mockery of his wife's predictable, American nature. "But cut the act the moment she was told to. She'll be pure loveliness once she has a more courtly manner."
"The way you speak about her, trying to be nonchalant, I know you too well, you have feelings for this woman beyond obligation."
"Yes, I do. If I'm telling the truth I was starting to before I knew she was pregnant." Viktor fessed up to his closest friend.
That was one benefit of being friends with a homosexual man, they had a stronger connection with their emotions and knew to not be as grating as women were when calling straight men out for their masked emotionality.
The two friends caught up, Archambault left, expressing his approval of Klara before he did, commenting that it had been decades since he had seen his old friend this happy.
Viktor had been liberal enough with his time, he would have to gather a party of Verrat agents and leave to find Adalind.
When he entered his bedchamber, Klara was in bed with a book, looking reminiscent of an Austen heroine with the cut of her silk nightgown and the demure-looking downcast of her eyes as she read.
"I'm leaving tonight." Viktor told his wife as he hurriedly changed into something more suitable for the forest. Klara acknowledged him, her eyes fixed on him in various states of undress. Seeing the blood on his shirt scared her, it made her mind run wild with reasons why he was leaving and what he would do.
"Stay safe." She settled on saying after a long pause. She closed her book and approached him. He pulled her into a long, gentle kiss.
"I can't promise I will." Viktor told her. "I'll be back as soon as I can." A hand unwrapped itself from around her waist and rested on her belly, Klara let out a faint gasp, her body felt airy and her mind serene, her previous fear melting into the background. She didn't say anything else, and neither did he, but they did not immediately separate. When Viktor finally left her to retrieve a pistol from the armory, he was able to refocus himself on the mission at hand, bloodlust came over him, different scenarios of what he'd do when he found Adalind played in his mind, all brutal.