The lavish feast was winding down, perhaps the greatest feat put on in recent years by the Royal House of Howard. Paid for by the Groom’s family, the wedding feast was a way to give back to their guests for coming and for their gifts: One night of merriment. In the great hall, tables were laid out in a U-shape around the open floor. A second table was at the top of the U and raised up and it was here that the Wedding Party sat. Edward and His Bride, Ophelia at the very center, with the King at Edward’s left hand in a regal and imposing chair of hand carved mahogany. Lest we forget that Edwin was not king while his son bears the honors tonight. The rest of the wedding party had been disbanded to join their families, but a few remained. Edward and Edwin’s Men of Honor, and Ophelia’s Ladies in Waiting. Servants whirled in and whirled out of the hall, remaining on the sides and coming and going like the wind with their arms ladened with so much food and drink. Goblets were everywhere and they were filled with wine at the slightest request. A great pig had been roasted and now his meat was spread across the 4 tables. Fresh fish, cooked in a variety of ways donned silver platters every few feet and smaller dishes of spiced vegetables, mixed potatoes and other Listonese fair remained. This was a night for making fat of one’s self and then dancing it off.
Edward had seemingly forgotten what he would be doing once the party had wound down. He had been nervous before the wine hit his system, anxious and somewhat concerned. Ophelia was eight years his senior and while he trusted that she was pure, something about her age concerned him. Here was a man who had enjoyed the act of making love for pure bliss a couple of times before with young women he had genuinely felt an attraction for. Now he would be expected to use it only for conceiving a child and only with this one woman. Though if you asked Edwin, as long as no other children were conceived and you could keep it hush, Edward was welcomed to any of the ladies. The wine swirling in his system as he laughed while seated did its best to erase those fears.
There would be no more dancing tonight. Ophelia and He had danced nearly every chance between courses but it was nothing like that night in the barn. The dances here had to be perfect. No room for Error, for changing things up, for anything but demure conversation between the partners. And certainly no cutting in unless one wanted to start a feud. Men had come up and politely and most respectfully asked Edward for a dance with the new Crown Princess of Liston. That had been one of the highlights of the dinner, When in the presence of all gathered here, Edward, Ophelia and the King had signed the wedding contract that officially, in the eyes of Liston and the World, made Ophelia Edward’s wife and through that, the Crown Princess and future Queen. With the ink still not dry, some men, who knew the rumors, were concerned that Edward would be just as protective of his Ophelia as he had been about Octavia. No fists flew this evening and Edward was every bit the gentleman. Yet he did not go so far as to dance with Lady Mary Hart. Or even Octavia. He was still avoiding her… A dance with Elizabeth, certainly.. but he was avoiding Octavia’s critical glance and his own guilty feelings.
The evening was drawing to a close. It was well after midnight before the merriment had died down enough. Edward stifled a yawn as he sat back at the table, still covered with a mound of food, and leaned back into the chair. His long fingered hand covered his mouth, his breath stinking like wine, and his eyes half closed with drowsy sleep. Very soon, Ophelia’s Ladies in Waiting, and those Ladies of the Court would steal her away to take her to her dressing rooms. Edward’s Men would do the same, hoisting him onto their shoulders and carrying him to his. Both would be changed into their nightgowns with their friends, while peppered with ‘useful’ advice. Then they would thrown into Edward’s bed (Or was it to be Ophelia’s bed?), curtains drawn, and then.. well this was what made Edward’s most uncomfortable.. They’d be listening like bloody tramps! It was enough to make anyone nervous about their.. er.. performance.
It occurred to her in a brief respite from conversation with one person or other than if she were to eat like this every night, she might well soon put some curves on her slender frame; typically she was a delicate eater with more of an appetite for books and knowledge than actual food. Still, when such a feast was put before you it was ridiculous to only pick at the food, and for all there was far too much of the stuff it was undeniably delicious.
A wonderful evening, all in all, and nobody could deny that the celebrations had been most perfectly planned and executed. Following on from what she had learnt that night in the barn, Ophelia had allowed herself to lose herself in the merriment of it all and kept her mind purposefully free of concerns of thoughts of a very deep nature. Near the end of the evening, however, that lack-of-concern was dented somewhat; a middle aged Liston lady had spoken earlier to the new Crown Princess with a friendly, woman-to-woman to air that had nevertheless made Ophelia want to reach for her goblet of wine. “Your Highness ought to enjoy such a feast every night, eh? The best way to put some flesh on your frame for bearing our great country an heir!”
Though the Princess had forced a smile and nodded in agreement before moving on to talk to another, that single comment had shattered all her careful thought-avoidance; in that moment in came smashing back to her what would occur at the end of the evening. After the dancing and the feasting was done. Lord above... she didn’t even know how to feel about it. She wasn’t squeamish or particularly coy, and so in that sense she was almost a little... intrigued? But still... it was Edward. They had been good friends, but this was of course a whole different game. Not to mention half of the court would be listening outside the curtain as the Crown Prince did the deed. Wine was the only answer to such troubles. Ophelia wasn’t drunk, but she’d certainly consumed enough wine to soothe her mind somewhat. The evening wasn’t over yet, after all...
Ah, no. Apparently, the evening was now over; Ophelia’s maid murmured in her ear that it was time for Ophelia, in her capacity as the bride, to depart. She had of course been informed in detail about how noble Listonese marriages worked, and thus it was her place to leave first for the bride was meant to arrive in the chamber first and wait for her husband there. Rising from her place, Ophelia made her goodbyes; her thanks to her guests, and her curtseys and kisses-upon-the-cheeks to those such as Edwin and Edward. With that, she was followed from the room by a large entourage of chattering, giggling ladies and friends, the married amongst them eager to offer advice and information on what she might expect. On wedding nights, bawdy talk was unusually allowed and half the things that were said could never be said at any other time without fear of seeming scandalous indeed.
Frankly, Ophelia wasn’t particularly enamoured by the idea of being undressed by such a large crowd of giggling and half-drunk women- but after all, this was hardly the most personal thing that same crowd were going to be listening to that night. More advice was poured upon her as she was dressed in what was possibly the most beautiful nightgown she had ever seen; it surprised her they even made clothes so fine simply for wearing to bed. Scent was applied to her, a top-up of the sweet sensual smell she had worn for her wedding ceremony. Each second that passed Ophelia attempted to cling to, the beating of her heart mounting... But it was almost as if the more she desired time to slow, the more is sped; before she knew it the gaggle had moved on again towards the chamber she would share with Edward.
With barely a moment to think, they had arrived at the door; it was pushed open with a merry clatter and all poured inside, ushering their Crown Princess into the grand four poster bed with its rich gold and crimson brocade coverings. Feeling somewhat like their doll, there only to be played with and arranged in a pretty manner, she slipped beneath the covers and sat with all the patience she could muster as they hastily rearranged her hair. In contrast to the careful styling of earlier, the dark ringlets now tumbled all around her face and across her shoulders, flowing loose in the virginal style. Her eyes were wide and dark in the flickering candle light, and held an expression in them as if she did not quite believe she had actually arrived at this moment.
Edward had noticed when Ophelia’s ladies matronly women who were flushed with wine on their cheeks came and begged her pardon from the party. Ophelia, who know what exactly was coming, excused herself from the party, rising like a statue of greecian marble with pearls stringing down her form on the heavy dress. The gauzy veil fluttered around her like an halo of cream light as the tall, willowy rose rose. She appeared alittle.. flustered as she stammered just a moment in response to her personal maid’s whispers. She left her plate and goblet, a folded up napkin placed over her place with her newly ringed hand. Edward’s eyes followed her as she rose, not a word being said between them as his gaze went from the ring on her hand up to her face. She did not blush, even as she murmured her farewells first to Edwin, in utter respect for the King. The princess would bestow her beaming Father in Law a kiss on the cheek, to which the elder man would pat her narrow and tiny wrist with a gentle chuckle and a wish for a good night. Then she turned to her husband, her short, shrimp of a husband. A kiss to his cheek was given, her hand upon his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Edward’s hand reached up to grasp her fingers ever so momentarily, though he said not a word as his eyes flickered between her dark, coffee colored colors and her lips with their gentle smile.
And then she was gone.
And as Edward’s face, color quickly draining as he realized that yes indeed the night was coming to end and yes he had things he had to take care of, turned outward towards the masses, the tables and the dancing. He braced himself with a skinny hand against the table, covered with the shimmering golden cloth. He locked his elbow and with his other hand grabbed his goblet of thick, rich wine, only one gulp remaining. He tipped his head back and knocked the wine back with a toss of his curled hair. He let loose an anxiety ridden exhale with a hiss as he brought the glass down, releasing his locked elbow as he let the bitter drink course through his body. Edwin had to laugh at his son, a hearty and yet bitter mocking laugh with his glittering, beady eyes. Soon, Mary was giggling at the Prince, and his men of honor too. Edward wanted to stick his head in the sand like an ostrich and just hide from the world. Damn them all! They weren’t married a woman nearly ten years their senior!
The laughter soon gave way to slaps on the back as his men, mostly young men in their twenties and the first and second sons of peers rose from their seats. Some had been seated wit the wedding party, some hadn’t and remained down on the lower tables for much of the evening. None the less, they all would come up to Edward, breath reeking of alcohol. Edwin himself knew to get out of the way, taking Mary by the wrist and waist and guiding her from the revelry. Even Edward knew what was coming next though he did not simply relax. As the men grabbed at his arms, for once forgetting that he was their Royal Prince and future Sovereign and that touching him without his expressed permission could be taken as a terrible slight. They pulled him up out of his seat, his skin hot from the wine and grasped at his narrow waist and hoisted him up above their heads with great cheer and merriment. He protested with a great number of shouts and curses, flailing about with his limbs and even smacking one or two of them on the head all while trying not to lose his balance. As the crowd roared, the men of the Court would run off with their valiant and impish Prince.
They carried him through the corridors, up to the royal quarters all while singing a rousing and dirty song about a fair maiden. It was to Edward’s quarters where they went. The giggling of the women could be heard as they quickly vacated Edward’s bedchamber, passing by the men who were bringing Edward to his changing room. No one would go into the bedchamber just yet, knowing that the crown princess was within and probably a frightful thing (despite the fact she could probably crush her puny husband).
They quickly put Edward done and set about to undoing the stiff layers of clothing, removing his jerkin, his yoke shirt, the belt around his waist and his knee-length pants as well as those constricting socks. They all had a good laugh as they shoved the nearly naked Edward into a small corner, giving him some modesty as he quickly doned the silk nightgown. A long shirt made of soft fabric, it had a high collar that was loosely folded over, thin ribbons hanging from the neck. The sleeves were long, and gathered at the shoulder and also at the wrist. The hem hung down to his ankles, slitted up the side for maximum movement. Edward rolled his eyes at the very idea as he was once again dragged up and over their drunken shoulders. Why even bother when the quality night gown would simply be removed in due time? He was far to absorbed in his own rolling thoughts to care as he fought back nausea from the warmth that flooded his body. And they hadn’t even begun!
The men probably frightened the Princess, all curled up against the thick, stacked pillows of the bed, pressed against the headboard of Edward’s bed with the gauzy first curtains drawn. They circled around to the foot of the bed, Edward still on their shoulder as the hoisted him down to the level of the bed. With a priest not far behind them, because the consummation had to be blessed of course, they would make haste by practically throwing their Crown Prince into his marriage bed. Gee thanks! He tumbled forward, catching himself on his hands and knees with a groan from the raging headache that was just starting to build as he came through the gauzy curtain. It clung to him, draped over one ear and his shoulder while laughter came from behind him. Hands reached In, grasping the inner guaze curtains and pulling them back. Metal scrapped along metal, as the rings holding the thicker scarlet curtains of velvet and silk slid along the upper supports, closing the two newlyweds inside their dark little world. Edward blinked, he couldn’t see now that most light, except for the diffused glow from candles lit around the room, had been extinguished. It was probably for good too that they could not see the shapes and forms of people gathered around or the priest who hovered about should anything.. be necessary. The room did not grow quiet.. idle chatter continued and Edward felt his cheeks grow to a flaming red. This was not his first time in bed with a woman, but he had never had people listening in before! He wanted to yell at them to all get out, that they could see the bloodied sheets when they were done and gawk all they wanted then! That would be a terribly breach of protocol then and the sanctity of their marriage would be questioned till the end of time. Instead, he sighed heavily, as he sat up on his knees. He brought his hands up to his forehead, running his palms and hands over his blond hair, pulling it back along his scalp until his hands rested on the back of his neck. How to start, how to start?
Well.. he should probably make sure the bride was even here first.
The brief opening of the curtains and the movement next to her did not startle her, for of course the Prince's- her husband's, rather- arrival had been signalled by the rowdiness of his men. Ophelia knew the traditions; just as she had been ushered along in a crowd of advice and bawdy talk, he would have been carried drunkenly upon their shoulders before being dumped upon the great bed. But if the sight of his blonde head being thrown down next to her did not startle her, her name from his lips actually did. She couldn't have explained why, because it wasn't a rational thing. It was just... odd. So very, very odd; here he was, beside her, in a bed they would share until she should- God willing- become with child.
Thankfully, each further meeting wouldn't be watch by a crowd of nosy nobles, but even that thought didn't make their current presence any less annoying. And with the curtains now firmly drawn around them, the question was necessary; Ophelia could scarcely see him, but for a rough outline. Brushing one long curl back from her face, Phi was for once feeling less than articulate. In the end, she simply murmured, "Edward."
Funny, almost, how for all she had a thousand thoughts in her head she had no words other than his name to give him. Now was hardly an appropriate time to share her thoughts, after all; such things were better suited to when they were taking a walk or enjoying a ride. Even her thoughts were unclear, all blurring into one. Thoughts was perhaps not the right word, even, for it seemed she had a dozen different emotions doings the rounds in her mind.
If she had been the sort of person to blush, she quite surely would have been blushing at that moment. As it was she felt her face was a little warmer than usual, and as she moved slightly to prop herself up on one elbow, her hand twisted around a curl in an unconcious gesture of uncertainty. Her vision improved slightly as she accustomed herself to the darkness, and she could see the curve of his cheek, the glint of his hair. A sudden and startlingly vivid image flashed through her mind of how he must have looked as a little boy, with his mop of yellow curls. Probably more appealing than she had been at five or six, anyway, given the gangly limbs and strange too-large eyes and lips she had owned at that point. And then that thought brought on another image... Of how their own children might look. (Well, that was the aim of the game, after all.) Fair like him? Like true Howards? Or dark and tall, like their mother? With any luck, the Howard-Seraphin boy child would inherit his father's colouring and his mother's long legs. Or maybe she'd fail at her task completely and give him a five foot tall miniature Aldrin Seraphin...
She snapped sharply out of her daydream, eyes flicking back to her new husband. Here, after all, was something out of her range of experience. Something that one could not exactly learn from a tutor or a book. Here, she couldn't exactly be in charge, and that scared her somewhat... But then again, she was at least with a friend.
"I..." Her voice was quiet with it's lilting Sundaril accent. Quiet and uncertain. "I suppose..." Odd how the Crown Princess who usually sounded so regal could all of a sudden sound younger than the husband she lay next to.
(Sorry for shortness, hope it's enough to reply to. )
"I... I suppose..." Ophelia let her last words trail off and Edward felt the silence fall upon their bedchamber like a heavy weight upon the chest of a sinner. He glanced down a bit, as he sat on his knees folded under him with the soft, white cotton draped around his body like a ghost's form. His steel blue eyes, went down to the shape of her feet under the covers and then after a moment, he lifted them. A shuddering breath slipped from his lips as he lowered his hands from his hair. It was a slow move as his fingers slipped, pulling strands of hair down along his temples, and cheek bones. Golden strands curled around his square jawline, against his neck with it's narrow muscles and onto his shoulders. Edward's hands came down on the bed, with it's velveteen and satin coverings.
He rocked forward onto his hands and began to crawl up towards her. Licking his lips, Edward moved slowly as he approached his bride. His palms and outspread fingers rested on the folded down sheets on either side of her. He stared down at her face, wide-eyed in nervousness with breath coming slowly from his parted lips. The way she looked up at him, dark and doe-eyed with her eyes rimmed in ebon kohl, her pale skin white in the faint light that streamed through the sheer and thick curtains drawn around them. The thick curls of black hair that fell around her face, across her forehead and along her chin.. over her shoulders. As much as the Howards prized their fair coloring and the preservation of said color, fair golden hair, cream skin and pale eyes; he found the dark features of Ophelia (and Octavia) so intriguing and captivating. And attractive.
His eyes flickered around her face, from her dark eyes, to her lips painted so pale pink. And her scent.. it was a rich, flavorful, citrus flavor with just a hint of spice, like something from the orient. It was so much stronger than the faint scent he had caught at the wedding; so much incense had been in the air, swirling around them. He inhale shakily before he kissed his bride perhaps the way she should have been kissed at the wedding. What had been a brief, polite and respectful kiss was replaced by a longer, more confronting kiss as he drew a hand up to her cheek, her jawline, and drew his slightly tanned fingers along through those whisps of dark, twisted hair. The warmth in the pit of his stomach blossomed and soared up to his chest, quickening his heart and spreading to his limbs. His fingers tingled with warmth, his lean muscles warming up. Edward was short, yes, but he was not a small boy in mass. His torso was thick for his height, lean muscle that was gently curved and sloped instead of chiseled and sharped. The night gown draped around him hid it all like a tent. He pulled back after a moment, eyes half opened in a dreamy sort of way as his face hovered less than a inch from hers, noses just touching as their breath mingled.
The dim light cast shadows across the grooves and curves of his face, making his features older, harder. Though dulled, his hair was still golden in the shadows... so different to her own dark, dark curls. And then she saw no more, for as his lips moved down upon hers she naturally closed her eyes, the breath oddly caught in her throat... But... but how strange it was. Strange that it did not feel as strange as she had thought it might. In fact, his lips seemed confident and bold; she couldn’t have said why but that was reassuring in a way his being very careful with her wouldn’t have been. Here, of course, was an arena where Edward no doubt had more experience than his new wife- a Princess could be cast out if it was found she was no virgin on her wedding night, but the same could hardly be said for a man. She was strangely glad. He was not an inexperienced, fumbling boy. He was not a brazened and life-hardened man. Not too little, not too much.
Surely he could feel her quickened heartbeat, dancing in her breast? She had never been so close to him- indeed, had never felt the strange whirl that a woman felt in her stomach with a man’s weight pressed down upon her. Her own eyes drifting back open to see his so close to her own, she remained unmoving for several moments, breathing in rhythm with him. Then her hand rose to his face, one thumb brushing the contour of his cheekbone in an instinctive gesture.
“I thought I’d be scared..” The words came out without considering it, and they were barely audible. So quiet, in fact, that they were nearly lost in the short gap between her lips and his. Her thumb continued to graze his cheekbone, moving slightly back and forth as she fell back into a content sort of quiet. Here it was, at long last. And her nerves had slipped away. With his face so close to hers and darkness all around, it was easy enough to imagine that they were alone in the room. Easy enough to imagine that a crowd of gawping nobles weren’t waiting to hear every detail. Letting out one deep breath, her hand curved around the nape of his neck and her lips found his and for the first time in her life, thoughts left her. Only feelings, now. Only feelings.
(Whaddya’ wanna’ do my lovely, fade to black or whatnot? Let me know >D )
In the darkness, their faces pressed close, Edward felt nothing at first. None of that desire, none of that want, none of that primal urging that drove him the other two times. Those had been clandestine, secretive, and dangerous. This.. this was his first night with his wife. It was not only legal, and encouraged, but expected! What a turn off!
Then, Ophelia did the unexpected. In all honestly, Edward did not expect her to kiss him. Their wedding had been.. delicate, cautious and rather lukewarm. When he had kissed her this moment ago, it had been one sided. Him pressing his lips against hers. Now though, as she brought her hands up alongside his face, his smooth jawline with it's faint peachfuzz, and brought her own lips upon his, leading him in a kiss. Her hand slipped along the back of his neck, long slender fingers mingling with the dirty blond tresses that clung to his smooth and cool neck as she pulled him closer. Edward inhaled deeply through his nose as their lips met, his head angling to the side as his crooked nose pressed against he high cheekbones. His hands, on either side of her torso against the silken sheets under them.
He withdrew from her, leaning back onto his haunches in the darkness. His face sank back into the shadows, leaving only faint highlights across his nose, forehead and chin. Edward dropped his chin for a moment as he grasped at his night gown, already feeling far to hot in the closed confines of the thick curtains with the two bodies inside of it, trapping the heat. A fire had also been lit in the fireplace to warm the room and the couple being as it was early October when they were wed. Arms crossed, he lifted up on the ivory fabrics, pulling the night gown with it's faint embroidery up and over his head. Edward was a small man. He did not have the ridgid, define muscular body that some of his Men of Honor had or others of the court. A sharp, chiseled chest or strong, defined arms. But he was barrel chested with a thick waist. Faint shadows lingered on his stomach where the muscles lied below the skin, strong from riding horses. His arms, as thin as they may have been, they were strong and lined with muscles that became visible in the shadows as he leaned forward again, hovering over Ophelia with only the thick blanket and Ophelia's nightgown between them. His warm breath rushed over her face as he leaned down, pressing his head alongside her neck as he breathed warmly on that spot just behind her ear. His hand now resting on her chest grasped at that thick blanket and pulled it down so that he might crawl into the warmth.
Robert, after consulting his siblings, had located a pair of candlesticks in the markets in Liston-by-sea. They were gilded, and had painted ivy vines snaking around the slimmer part and ivy leaves surrounding the cup for the candle. Ivy reminded him of the Hall in autumn-how the vines crawled around the tower and turned from green to scarlet. Some of the trees at Pendleton would be losing their leaves soon. He would be called for the harvest and have to crack open his father’s ledger to record the yields from each farm. Then he would report to the crown and would be able to assess tax amounts per yield.
He had worn his baronial coronet for the wedding, along with his light blue court ensemble. House Seymour would not be ill-represented this day. Thomasin had done very well in her preparations, and Robert had contributed when he could. Thomasin had not needed much guidance. So much had changed in such a short time-his sister had married, and now Prince Edward was married. He wondered if the fellow with the hair had attended the ceremony-he hadn’t seen him. Oh, Robert could have stayed away had he wished, considering his Beaumont loyalties, but he had a plan. Yes, he had a plan in mind that would begin as soon as the priest pronounced them man and wife. Princess Ophelia may now be a Howard, but she would never be a true queen. From this day hence he would watch them both like a wolf among sheep.
So far, everything had gone as he had wanted it to. He had drunk moderately and perhaps enjoyed the fish a little too much. He had spoken to a few people here and there, the usual sort of thing. He wondered what was going through the minds of the king and prince as they chatted and ate their way through the evening. He also wondered what was going through the heads of the Beaumonts. Octavia should have been at the altar. But, of course, there remained the consummation. Robert honestly wondered if the prince would be up to such a momentous task considering his youth (and the considerable difference in height between both parties). It would probably not be easy for the boy to have an audience, but such was life.
As night fell, the prince’s men came for him like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. So Robert followed the procession to the bedchamber, despite being more one of Edwin’s men at heart. He still had a duty to the prince, and he was chamberlain. More importantly, his plan was about to be put into action. He thought that the corridor would be a better vantage point. He would half-listen and try to catch up on some sleep in the meantime. The Lord only knew what sort of aural emanations would assault Robert’s ears.
--------------------
Next to knowing when to seize an opportunity, the most important thing in life is to know when to forego an advantage. -Benjamin Disraeli
A major thank you to Riv for the avatar and an equally major thank you to Rosie for the sig!
