Princess Eleanor

"I promise, I will let you know if there is a time I need to step in, but for the moment, you're doing alright. " He nodded, understanding her predicament of a new home with new rules but he didn't want to rush her.

Oscar couldn't help but smile at her awkward phrasing. Her cheeks had flushed a delicate pink, and something about her shyness made his heart soften as it had numerous times since he had truly started to get to know her.

"I believe what you're referring to is commonly called 'oral,'" he said, keeping his tone light despite the intimate subject. "Though what you did with your hands..." He paused, suddenly feeling his own face warm slightly. "That's typically considered foreplay, unless it progresses too far." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Then, I'm not entirely sure there's a specific word for it."

Their eyes met, and Oscar was struck by how vulnerable she looked in that moment, but he attempted to keep the lightness with humour. "I don't expect you to give me oral. As you know, I have enjoyed giving you that pleasure. I feel it's more intimidating for a woman to pleasure a man; my more than average size...."

"It is a blessing and a curse." He joked, chuckling softly.

It was fascinating watching him explain these things, a man who was well experienced blushing at what were likely simple concepts to her. There were lots she needed to add to her vocabulary was one pattern she had been picking up on. Everything seemed to have a name--hence why there is an entire book on it. She did wonder how common it was for someone to be as knowledgeable as he was, or if the both of them were just on opposite ends of the spectrum. It's not like she would ever have the chance to compare him with another.

"And what you did with your hands, also is referred to as foreplay?" She asked as a follow up question. "Does anything including hands referred to as that?" Eleanor was not trying to tease at all, they were genuine questions for a subject she wanted to become more confident in understanding. "Such as when your hands are on my chest...or vice versa--but I guess it does not work as much the other way around for that." She spoke her thoughts out loud and ended on a sheepish laugh then.

In her eyes it currently seemed to be more of a curse given their situation, but she was hopeful that with time it would evolve into a blessing. "Well good, because I am not quite sure how I would even go about that." She joked before she practically jumped in the bed. "But we have this book!" Eleanor announced, shoving it against his bare chest. "Show me, there must be a section on that, correct?"

Oscar found himself smiling at Eleanor's teasing. The way she called his complaints dramatic brought a warmth to his chest he hadn't expected. So different from the stilted conversations he'd had with other potential matches his advisors had paraded before him.

"You laugh now, but wait until summer comes. The heat becomes unbearable," he said, reaching for the leather-bound book he'd selected for her earlier. "And yes, there have been princesses who've done exactly that. Some quite famously but I think I differ in that fact that I enjoy the input of my wife. I understand I am a rare man in that respect.”

He handed her the book, one eyebrow raised as he noticed that particular look in her eyes. The one that suggested she had something specific on her mind beyond mere historical curiosities. Eleanor had a way of approaching topics sideways, especially when it came to matters between them.

"I sense you're working up to something," Oscar said, his voice gentle but amused. "Another 'suggestion' perhaps?" He sat down beside her on the bed, the leather-bound book resting between them."Ask away," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "There are no forbidden questions between us now."

She had not even considered yet how seasons felt here compared to her home, she immediately took a mental note at what he said. "Well I'll be sure to have my night gowns properly hemmed then." She stated simply, she's experienced hot nights at her castle but never considered sleeping in the full nude because of them. It was amusing to her how particular he was on this.

"Please tell me if I ever do anything that comes across as disrespectful." She much rather hear it from him than anyone else in the castle. "Or even things that are not necessarily disrespectful...simply traditions I am not aware of." She wanted to cover all ground, even if it was impossible to be the perfect wife--especially in a marriage arranged like this one was.

Eleanor paused for a moment, trying to gather her words before saying them. "Well, there is this...well, I'm not exactly sure what you call it--if there is even a name for it." She contemplated flipping through some pages until she found the answer herself...but she's not that bold to skim over this book just yet. "Is there a term for things that are not sex...but in a way are?" As soon as she said it, she knew she must have made no sense. "For example, when one uses their hands or mouth--I feel it does fall under sex but there is no conception going to happen."

Oscar smiled at her, noticing the slight blush that still colored her cheeks. He found her modesty endearing, especially after their intimacy. The way she shifted her position when discussing certain matters made his heart swell with affection."I wouldn't expect you to be blunt with the advisors," he said softly, reaching out to gently take her hand in his. "And I admire your respect for our customs. It means a great deal to me."

Oscar noticed her eyes slip away from his, but he didn’t press them back to him. She’d given him enough of herself tonight; he knew when not to chase the last inch. A hint of a smile touched his mouth at her attempt to temper his expectations. “I don’t expect you to charge into council swinging your opinions like a sword,” he murmured, tone low and reassuring,.

"And, I know you’re wise enough to choose your moments. Speaking your mind doesn’t mean starting wars. It simply means not swallowing your own thoughts to appease men who don’t deserve the sacrifice.” His hand on her arm stayed gentle, steady. “Adapting to our customs isn’t disrespect. But losing yourself to them would be.”

Her frank assessment of his warmth earned a small, amused exhale from him. “I’ve never been able to sleep buried under layers; it feels like suffocation.

When the flush crept across her cheeks again, his gaze dipped briefly to her expression with a quiet, fond awareness, careful not to let the softness turn into teasing. He watched as she kept her gaze averted, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the bedsheet. The vulnerability in her posture made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar sensation as he worried over her well-being.

"Your body deserves rest," Oscar agreed, his voice gentler than he intended. "Would you like me to have the doctor check on your progress tomorrow? It may be wise not to be intimate until you have been clear. You can walk the halls unbothered, but do keep someone near if you need it." He gently rose and sat up. "Would you like me to fetch the book? Or perhaps I could simply hold you for a while?" He offered for a distraction.

"Are there really princesses out there who go into these kinds of marriages disrespecting the king's customs?" She asked, that concept shocking her. It sounded like a taboo thing to do; if one had the possibility of such a thing, she was sure they were never to be considered for marriage. Or at least one as important politically. "I tried to learn what I could, mainly from word of mouth and such, before arriving here. Your library and personal selection of books will help me greatly."

"Suffocation?" She repeated. "Now that sounds dramatic." Eleanor teased, but did somewhat feel. It was a bizarre thing to hear him complain about, a man who seemed like he could handle many blows, but being asked to sleep in layers and beneath blankets was far too much.

"I will let you know how I feel by afternoon," Eleanor said with a small nod in regard to the doctor. She did not want to feel like some wounded animal needed constant checking; it sounded like time was the only medicine for this. "Could you get the book? I feel another thing we have to do, or perhaps I, is get comfortable with discussing certain words...and things..." It was definitely far more on her than him.

Oscar listened with quiet attentiveness, a faint curve at his mouth betraying amusement at her boldness. There’s spirit there, he thought, a flicker of dry warmth in his eyes. “You’re not wrong,” he said after a beat, voice smooth but edged with humour. “They prefer their queens quiet and agreeable, decorative, at most. But I’ve spent half my life surrounded by men who all sound the same. The idea of a woman with her own mind hardly frightens me. If the advisors think me dangerous for encouraging you to think, they can add it to the long list of things they already dislike about me.”

He shifted slightly closer on the bed, still holding that calm, teasing ease. “And no, you’re not a horse,” he added with a low murmur. “You’re far more stubborn and far less predictable.”

Her fluster over intimacy softened his expression, amusement giving way to quiet tenderness, and then a laugh to her nod to the compliments of the pleasure she spoke about. They hadn't done very much beyond the wedding night; soreness was now taking its toll on her, but she had woken him eager for his mouth on her. There had been moments he undeniably enjoyed when pleasing her. "Well, in books there is sensation of fullness woman have desired. Doctors used to think of it as madness."

"I've learned sex drive varies much in different women. Sometimes it's a height of pleasure to simply being taken, or the slight of a wet tongue and a man kneeling for his lover." he looked at her, a small pull of a grin on his face. "You may look gentle, but that stubborn side of you gives you away to a woman also desiring power. It's where you feel the most control. Sex, pleasure is easier than feelings," he noted, understanding feelings were still a navigating field for them both. "It so happens that you enjoy asking me to taste you. And, I very much enjoy it," he assured, absent-mindedly licking his lip.

“I’m glad I haven’t made it unbearable for you,” he said gently. “And you never need to worry about what I am, or what I’m not. I’ll always be mindful of your comfort, Eleanor. That isn’t just courtesy. I do mean to try.” When she mentioned wishing she had known him first, his smile turned faint and wistful. “I would have liked that too,” he admitted. “Perhaps then, we could have found an easier rhythm between us.”

Her confession about running off earned a quiet chuckle from him, low and genuine. “I would have expected nothing less. A spirited bride, too clever to sit still and too proud to be handed over easily.” His gaze held hers, steady and kind. “And strange as it may sound, I do find that part of you desirable. It's your bravery to want your own choice. I want to give you that now."

He brushed his thumb along her arm, “You keep looking at me like I’ve forgotten half my wardrobe,” he murmured, tone dipping into humour again. “I’ve always run warm, always have.” He guided her hand gently to his chest, letting her feel the quiet heat of his skin. “I’m not making a move,” he assured with a small smile. “Just showing you another part of this practice we have of intimacy and getting to know one another.” His thumb stroked her arm in slow, soothing passes.

" Though, I will say, I am surprised by the way you woke me this morning," he confessed. Reliving the moment in his mind was enough to stir a light arousal in his loins. However, once he calmed with a slow breath and refocused his thoughts, it was enough not to cause obvious evidence to her.

Eleanor did roll her eyes at his comment regarding her being compared to a horse. It even earned a small laugh from her before she shook her head. She did appreciate how fun he could be.

"Fullness." She repeated, taking in what that had meant. Eleanor did try to picture herself and understand where those women were coming from, but it was quite difficult for her. The thought of fullness from him felt like a week of bed rest to her. Still, thinking of it did no help to bring down the redness in her face. "Oh, the book," She said, slightly shifting focus. "Do you still have it near? We could look at a chapter."

Eleanor found herself having to shift how she lay when he began to speak more of sex. She closed her legs together and tried not to focus on the picture of Oscar, being the one kneeling before her, and seeing his tongue...was he trying to pull her in again? Then she saw him lick his lips, and her eyes darted away; he most definitely was trying to pull her in despite her soreness.

Her eyes were beginning to avoid his, still listening to his rather serious and personal things he said to her. "Oh, do not expect me to be so blunt around advisors now." She stated, wanting to lower his expectations. "I certainly can speak my mind around them, but I still choose my battles." Mostly for more personal reasons, of course, or if there was one member in particular irritating her. "I do want to adapt to your customs and not disrespect them." It was still difficult for her to figure out which cultural differences could be modified compared to those that could not.

"Well, you have." She said matter-of-factly. "You are a very warm man." Eleanor did appreciate his clarity that the movement of her hand was not to be mistaken for a different kind of gesture, just to simply understand him further. "I still believe, if I did get as warm as you do...I could not find myself sleeping so exposed every night. Perhaps when it is those particularly hot summer nights, but...it would never become a habit of mine." She felt so vulnerable the other night, having slept so exposed.

It seemed to be impossible to have the redness escape her face; whenever she was close, he was bringing up something else to fluster her. "Yes, I...had many emotions this morning." She had no clue how to properly word it, and if she did, she still would have gone the more proper route of saying it. "Do not anticipate me waking you tomorrow. I do believe my body still needs a moment to adjust, and I would like to walk at least down a few hallways." Never was she bold enough to look up into his eyes as she said this.

Oscar’s mouth twitched at her remark, that faint, weary humour of hers something he’d come to appreciate. “You’ll find this court never tires of talking,” he murmured, tone gentler than his words. “But let them. Their opinions don’t define you—or me. And if tears are the worst they can accuse you of, then I’ll consider that a quiet victory.” His thumb brushed over her wrist, a grounding touch more than a gesture. “And as for trust,” he continued, voice low but certain, “I wouldn’t have married a woman I didn’t believe capable of earning mine. You may be new here, but that doesn’t make your judgment any less valuable. Your father mentioned you as stubborn, but I don’t believe you are without reason. You have a mind. I encourage you to use it rather than quiet yourself for the sake of the advisors or myself, for that matter.”

Her comment about attraction drew a quiet, amused exhale from him, the corner of his mouth softening. “Then I’ll take that as a comfort, even if it comes wrapped in practicality,” he said, his tone carrying an easy warmth. Yet as her words shifted, so did his demeanour; steady, thoughtful, and touched with that rare honesty he reserved for moments like this. “You’re right,” he admitted. “My life has changed, too. I’ve grown used to solitude, decisions made in silence, with no one to share the weight of them. Having someone beside me now, someone who feels so deeply, who can offer a different perspective… yes, it’s different. But it’s not unwelcome. And as for my schedule, it remains unchanged. Yes, I make time for a wife now, but the council would rather I do than disappear on my horse as I often did to get away from their conversations. You’re a better companion than all those fools. ”

He looked at her then, studying her expression in the glow of the firelight, and his voice softened further. “You’ll find that I don’t frighten easily, nor am I bothered by what I can’t change. That includes what I am or what you think I am.” His mouth curved faintly, almost rueful. “If you can’t handle all of me, then that’s simply where we begin. I’d never insist on what causes you pain, Eleanor.” His gaze lingered on her face, steady and unflinching. “If anything, I should apologize for being… more than what’s easy to accommodate. But I hope it will not be a barrier between us, and it remains a pleasurable experience.”

Then, quieter, his tone gentling into something almost tender, “It’s no trouble to carry you. ” He moved to lift her, careful and unhurried, letting her settle easily against him before rising. “Ready?” he said softly, his breath brushing the top of her damp hair, “let’s get you to bed. We can talk more when you’re comfortable or sleep if you find yourself tired.” He laid her on the side of the bed, helping her with the blankets before he walked to his side to pull off his clothes; pants kept on at her request. Something to get used to for now.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, walking over to the hearth to tend to the fires in their bedroom and feed another log. It had become colder in the night now. A concern she needed more heat in the room was a small discomfort for himself; he was willing to set aside as long as she did not mind the state of his undressed upper half. He returned to the bed, lying on top of the blankets for now as he leaned against the headboard. “May I ask you a question?” he paused, thinking of approaching the subject gently.

“Do you wish I had courted you before our marriage? Would this have been easier to accept? Don’t be angry with your father when I say this, but he thought it was a terrible idea when I considered the thought.” he gave a small smile. “He thought you might be stubborn enough to get on your horse and hide yourself until I left your kingdom,” he mused, finding some humour in the thought. “I thought he was joking about your stubbornness, but two days as my wife, I see it. It is endearing to see it. A woman, even as young as yourself willing to show it.”

He smiled warmly. “I’ve never wanted a timid wife. A man with so much control desires a grounded woman, not always agreeable with her husband, but collaborative and willing to speak her mind. That is who I find desirable - “he corrected himself. “You are what I find desirable,” Oscar confessed.

"I can see why advisors speak negatively of you." Eleanor began boldly before elaborating. "Encouraging the new queen to speak her mind is quite dangerous, and I am sure they do not want to deal with another's opinion--especially a woman's." She did find comfort and safety in the fact that he did not view her as lesser than. His welcoming her input did mean a lot to her, especially in a time when she was in a rather not entirely comfortable situation.

His mentioning of solitude did give her some nerves, while she was getting used to the concept of a partner, she was still starting her life. He has lived a life before her, many more years of solitude than she's ever faced. This was a significant change in his lifestyle that she felt he was undermining. "I'm unsure how your conversations with your advisors went before this union, but I do believe you are underestimating how significant a change this can be," Eleanor stated. "I am not exactly a horse." Not that she found offense to it, but just understood that his riding a horse for a distraction was very different than a partner, even if she still was trying to understand the responsibilities herself.

"Well, you have certainly found ways to make it pleasurable." She said with full confidence, followed by a firm nod. "It is certainly...a lot and I am unsure how any woman is able to handle that..." Eleanor trailed off, feeling herself go red in the face with talking about her husband's manhood. "I understand that you too are adapting, which is heavily appreciated." She simply ended that with while her face still burned.

"Oh, we can certainly still talk," Eleanor said as she was carried to the bed, taking in the feeling of him around her, touching all kinds of different parts of herself. Even if it was a short, simple moment, she still soaked it in. One thing she was not sure if she was ever going to get used to was the fact that this man preferred to sleep topless. The concept sounded so absurd to her. It partly made sense in the context of their wedding night...but in their current situation, it made no sense. Surely this could not be a common thing for men to do. Her eyes kept on trailing back to his chest, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it--how else was she supposed to ignore his exposed skin?

"Yes, I am fine." A slight lie, she could feel some chill in the hair hitting her, but she did pull the blankets up higher tonight compared to nights previous. Her mind was still wondering how he was managing without anything to cover his chest...and how he would not have anything on the bottom half...such an odd thing. She hummed in response to his question, ready to listen.

Eleanor paused for a moment, seriously considering his question. There seemed to be no harm in answering truthfully; it was a simple what-if that could not happen now. "Well, my initial thoughts are that, yes, I feel I would have preferred to know the man I was marrying. I am confident it would have at least calmed some of my nerves on our wedding day." And then there was a pause. "However, my father seems to know me better than I know myself..." She admitted to him. "If I had found the opportunity to run off, I would have." And after a beat, she realized how that may have come across. "Oh no, but not because of you. Well, I guess partly, but nothing too deeply. More to spite my father than anything, as I would have had the time too." She wondered if her answer either helped him or did the complete opposite. Eleanor did hesitate when he mentioned what he found in her to be desirable, but she was slightly flustered for a moment before simply playing off the compliment. "I am not sure if you should find my possible attempt to run off from you to be desirable."

Oscar felt a quiet relief as she settled against him, letting the warmth of his body ground her against the lingering chill from her bath. Her whispered confession about hating to cry drew a soft, understanding sigh from him. I wish I could make it easier for her, take the weight away, he thought, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he murmured gently. “Better to cry than hide from it"

He listened as she spoke of the imbalance between them, the truth of her unease with the sudden shift in power and respect. His gaze softened, and he tightened his hold slightly. "You're right to feel unsettled, but I need you to know that I’m here, not to dominate, but to support you. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said quietly. “This is a lot, and I can’t pretend it’s all fair. But I want you to feel safe, to know that your voice matters to me above all others.”

When she admitted she would have given him a chance, he allowed a faint smile, noting the honesty layered beneath her careful words. “Thank you,” he said, voice low, almost private and then he chuckled. "Forgive me, but I do fear you may let the age difference affect too much of how you see me as a partner.” He let the statement hang in the warm air, his thumb tracing circles along her arm, steadying her as much as comforting. "But, I am happy to hear I'm not entirely unattractive. That there are a few qualities redeeming"

Her quiet acknowledgment of his patience and politeness brought a flicker of amusement and pride to him, tempered by the weight of the moment. If only she knew how much I worry about being the husband she deserves, he thought. “I try,” he admitted softly, “to be a man who can earn your trust, your comfort, even if I’m not the one you would have chosen.”

When she spoke of his nephew, he chuckled lightly, the sound more a release than humour. “No, of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I don't think that, while my wife would support the infidelity despite her still getting very used to me as her husband." Oscar shifted slightly, his gaze softening as he let his thoughts spill quietly, speaking them aloud to her.

“I keep thinking about how much you’ve had to leave behind, the life you knew… and I worry I can’t make up for it quickly enough,” he admitted, voice low and measured. “But I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can," he promised, pausing before he began again. "Now, if you’d like, we can head back to the bed now, where it’s softer, and I now realize the floor might still be too hard for the soreness you have..."

"Well, I do not want to gain a reputation." What she wanted to say is she felt like a child when crying. So if she were to not hold back on any tears, she could only imagine the comments that would then be made of them. "You put a lot of trust in me." She stated. "You've known everyone in this castle far longer than me, it is fine if there are others here you have more trust in."

It felt rude to point out his age, something she had been told not to do. She was sure he was as aware as she was about this difference, but what more was there to say? What was done has been done. "More than a few," Eleanor assured him. She did not enjoy how self-deprecatory he would get about it, another reason why she avoided even acknowledging it. "If it helps, if I were not attracted to you--I would not be sharing a bed with you." Eleanor had spoken to a few advisors before meeting Oscar about her living arrangements. What possible alternatives were there, one that was proposed that she could very much have her own living quarters...as long as she still performed her practically singular duty as queen.

"You also had a life that changed." She wanted to acknowledge, because she did feel guilt, expressing some of her pain as if this all only involved her. "Perhaps not as drastic as mine did...But I am sure your schedule and routines are now suddenly far more different. Which is major for a king." Eleanor pointed out to him, she remembered times her father's schedule would be disrupted and it was always hell to get back to his routine. "And also now being with a woman who cannot...handle all of you." The nicest way she could possibly state that without sounding too crude.

"Could you carry me?" The thought of having to get up made her hurt. There was no way she could get to the bed without letting out sounds of pain. "That or I am choosing to sleep on the floor tonight." That sounded more comfortable than having to get up and walk a few feet.

Oscar shifted slightly, still holding her close, and a flicker of worry passed through his mind. The advisors… he thought. They may be too eager to influence her. Too ready to tell her what she should think, what she should value, especially given her youth. I cannot let them decide how she feels—or pressure her into opinions that aren’t her own.

He kept his voice calm, soft, as he spoke, careful not to let his concern alarm her. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, Eleanor,” he said, brushing her hair gently from her damp temple. “But I know the fact that I am… older, that it’s me standing here as your husband, affects how you judge me. It affects what others around us might say, what advisors might push upon you. Some of them… may not treat your opinions as your own yet. They see your youth and think they must guide you, shape you. But that is not for them to decide. Only you will determine what is right for you. Not even I can influence you, and I don't want to.

He paused, letting the crackle of the fire fill the room for a heartbeat, his chest pressing lightly against her back. “I know it makes things more complicated, that there are pressures you shouldn’t have to face alone. But I will I will make sure your voice is heard. Your thoughts are yours, Eleanor. And nothing—no one—can change that.”

“You’ve had to adapt so much. It’s natural to feel unsettled, and for that I am sorry that was taken before you were ready in life for it,” he said gently, tracing her side. “If we’d had more time to court, would you have given me a chance? He sighed."You must know that. I was not seeking someone younger to mold or… to satisfy some expectation. I said yes because I wished to protect you, to ensure you would be cared for and not to take advantage, not to use you.”

He paused, a shadow of concern crossing his face. “There are things my nephew is capable of, things I know that would harm you if you agreed to a marriage to him. Some of my decisions, my agreement to marry you… It was to prevent that, to give you a safeguard. Out of that, I also offered to be a man to give you a decent life and marriage, only doing my best as well, to show you love and care as you should have.

Eleanor slightly readjusted herself in his hold, as the crying settled, she could begin to feel the coolness from coming out of her bath with her hair still fairly damp. She leaned into his warmth as she attempted to settle herself. "I hate crying." She whispered to him. "It feels embarrassing to do it, and then after it, I just feel awful." She was sure she also looked awful. Eleanor almost felt sick, sitting there still slightly wet from the bath and her mouth and eyes aching.

"I understand." She spoke up quietly. "I very much assumed that was destined to happen when I learned who I was marrying." Eleanor was not trying to attack him with her words, simply stating the truth of the different dynamic he had. Someone who was supposed to be viewed as her equal clearly had more power and respect than she did. Any royal marriage would have that imbalance, but this one was far larger.

This was nice, airing out all she felt, and it was slowly becoming a simple conversation between adults. "Of course, I would have." What she left out in her answer is that she would no matter what because it was simply required of her to. "I do not find you unattractive, if that is what you are trying to get me to say." She felt like she managed to read between those lines. "You are correct that you are not the man I...usually go to." Eleanor attempted to say as gently as possible, as if he would not already know this. "You are probably one of the most polite and patient men I have ever met, which was very much not how others had described you."

Eleanor stayed quiet when listening to him speak of his nephew, aware of his family rift but not necessarily how it could have affected her. "Well, your nephew is bound to wed eventually. You cannot marry all of his potential fiancées." A smart comment that was not necessarily needed in this quiet moment, but the thought would have remained in her mind until mentioned. "But I do appreciate it."

“You won’t ruin my reputation,” he said, his voice calm, measured. “If that’s what worries you, it isn’t an issue for me. I don’t measure myself by what others think. What matters is your view of me, and your comfort here.”

He shifted slightly, ensuring she could rest more securely against him. “Your father trusted me to marry you,” he continued, careful with his tone, diplomatic yet sincere. “He entrusted me with your happiness, and I take that seriously. If he were here, he would want you to know that ensuring you feel settled and cared for in this new home is paramount. Your comfort is not just for me—it’s for the success of our life together. And if it takes extra measures, support, or familiar comforts to make this easier for you, that willingness is part of that responsibility.”

Oscar shifted slightly, keeping his arms around her, his gaze gentle but steady. “Eleanor,” he said softly, “there’s something I’d like to ask of you—not because I expect anything of you beyond yourself, but as a small step toward this life we’re beginning.”

“If you will,” he continued, “accept this gesture from me—right now—I would be grateful. Not as a test, not as a demand, but simply to let me show you what a husband can be, the kind of husband you deserve. Even if I am not the one you might have chosen for yourself, it’s important to me that you see the care and attention I am willing to offer.”

He squeezed her gently at the waist. “I know we have steps to take. Happiness as a married pair doesn’t happen all at once. But letting me do this for you, accepting it fully, is one small step. It’s not about me—it’s about giving you a moment to see, even in this unfamiliar place, that you can have someone who will try, deliberately and carefully, to make life easier for you.”

Yet as he held her, he felt the truth press quietly against his chest. He hadn’t expected the sight of her tears to twist him so deeply, or the urge to make them vanish to feel like a vow forming inside him. She was still so new to his life, and yet he wanted her to find warmth here, to look at these halls one day and see more than duty. He wanted her to smile without hesitation.

He paused, letting the warmth of the fire fill the space between them. “If you allow me this,” he said quietly, “you’ll see the kind of husband you deserve, and perhaps find small pieces of comfort along the way while you decide what this life—and I—mean to you.”

Eleanor attempted to calm herself down while he spoke to her. It was not a complete success, but it was better than before. It took her some extra time to process what he was telling her; the small headache beginning to form from all of this was not helping. Her mind just continuously flashed images of her home, and a worrisome thought crossed her mind. Would she forget what her home looks like? That thought crossing her mind caused a small, sudden burst of tears.

Her head leaned against his chest, needing the support as her eyes and throat ached. "I can do that." She whispered the words; any louder would have strained her voice at that point. His offer sounded achievable to her. She did not see herself rejecting him and his gestures...but there definitely were still barriers up.

"I do not hate you, Oscar." It felt like something she needed to get off her chest. "I apologize if I have come across that way." Eleanor was being a bit more formal; some of her own training kicked in just then, even if she was still sitting in his arms and tear stains covering her cheeks. "It's just this..." She paused for a moment, steadying herself so she would not burst into tears again. "It is a lot of change, permanent change. My body has even changed within these past few days." She wished this all could have played out differently. That this could have the timeline of a normal courtship, not an arranged marriage.

Oscar held her gently, letting her lean into him, and tried to convey all the reassurance he could through simple presence. “Eleanor,” he said softly, “Being a wife and a queen doesn’t mean you have to lose your freedom. You are allowed to be yourself here, even as you learn what it means to live in this castle. I want you to know that our marriage… It’s not solely for my sake. It’s for yours as well.”

He paused, careful with the weight of his words. “I don’t want you thinking you owe me anything. Your feelings, your happiness—they matter, and nothing you do or feel will be a debt to me. I only want you to find some comfort and a place where you can live without feeling constrained.” Oscar, fearing silently as if she felt this place was a prison due to their marriage.

He brushed a hand lightly along her arm, a grounding gesture, intimate and supportive. “You can miss your home, you can long for the life you left behind. That doesn’t make you weak or ungrateful—it makes you human. And I will do everything I can to make this place more welcoming, to help you find little pieces of home here if you wish. Your choices, your feelings… they won’t change how I see you, or what I hope for you.”

Oscar exhaled slowly, letting the quiet fill the space between them. “Life changes, and I know it’s difficult—no one would say otherwise. But once you find your footing here, once you discover your own way to feel at home, I believe you will feel happier. More at ease. You’ll carve out a life that’s yours, even within all the expectations and duties. And I’ll be here to make sure you have the support you need to do that.

He turned her in his arms then, trying to bring some lightness to the heavy and tearful evening it had slipped into. "Even if it might bring a great cost to me to take his best servants and staff to make you happy." Oscar chuckled. "I will reimburse him well, as I've not just taken his daughter but likely half his staff."

"What if I do something stupid, and that then ruins your reputation? What then?" She asked the hypothetical because she hated how much she was going to end up affecting this person's life. "I know I am already affecting your reputation by just being married to you." She heard those many comments. What kind of man was Oscar to marry someone so much younger than him?

Eleanor listened carefully to his words, taking in his touch as more tears continued to spread down her cheeks. She also needed the moment to catch her own breath and somewhat steady it. "I am not miserable, I swear." She still had the need to reassure him at a time like this. "I just know my home is no longer home and..." She broke into tears again; she really was trying to have a firmer conversation with him, but was failing repeatedly. "I fear that I never will feel at home again." What if all the gestures he does have little effect on her? What then? She worried he would put in all of this energy only for it to be nothing.

"I've never experienced so much change." As if that was not already obvious. She could feel the back of her throat starting to get dry, and her body began to struggle to make more tears as her eyes began to ache. "It's difficult to learn a castle while I'm still trying to learn who my husband is...and I've been nothing but sore, and that makes it difficult for me to go around your castle." It felt ridiculous to point that out, but it was certainly a contributing factor to this all.

Eleanor looked up to him with slight confusion. She could not tell if he was joking or being completely serious to her. It was certainly a grand gesture if true. "My father will hate you if you do that." She stated plainly to him, as the concept of him taking the best staff could not be as simple as he made it sound.

Oscar let her tears fall without hurry, without shame, his chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm meant for her to match. He pressed the softest kiss to her temple, lingering there as though he could will away her sorrow through warmth alone. His hands never stilled—one stroking her arm with the care of a man handling something precious, the other firm at her waist, grounding her when she trembled. The sound of her muffled sobs tightened something deep in him, yet he held her closer instead of flinching away.

She deserves tenderness, he thought fiercely, not walls, not coldness. Every tear she gives me is trust, and I will not waste it. The weight of that truth sank deep, almost heavier than the crown he wore.

He leaned back just enough to study her face, his thumb brushing the dampness from her cheek as if wiping away raindrops. “Eleanor,” he murmured, his voice hushed, reverent, “your tears don’t lessen you. Not to me. They remind me how deeply you feel, and I am grateful you trust me enough to show me.” His eyes searched hers with a quiet intensity, not demanding but offering, asking her to believe him.

When he spoke of bringing what she missed, his tone gentled further. “Your rose soap. Your gowns. Familiar things, familiar faces.” He hesitated, then pressed on, the words carrying the full weight of his sincerity. “We could host a ball, fill these halls with people you know and trust. Or simply have your father visit, so you never feel this place has taken you from him. We can fill these halls with laughter and music until they feel alive to you.” His hand cupped her cheek, thumb grazing her skin like a promise. “This place should comfort you, not cage you. Tell me, and I’ll make it so.”

He lowered his forehead to hers, the gesture tender, intimate, unguarded. His breath mingled with hers, steady and reassuring. “You will never want for effort from me,” he whispered, a vow heavy with sincerity. “Every smile, every laugh of yours, I will earn.”

Drawing her gently back against him, Oscar wrapped her in his arms with protective finality. His lips brushed the crown of her head, lingering in a kiss that was both comfort and devotion. If it takes a lifetime, he swore silently as he held her, I will give her every reason to be happy here.

Eleanor appreciated deeply how he held her. It felt safe. She felt grounded with the gentle stroking of her arm. It was that confidence he had in every movement she loved so much that he knew exactly how to hold her in this specific moment. That she could not shiver from being fresh out of the bath because she had both the fireplace and him to keep her warm.

She listened to all he was offering to her, and she felt the weight of guilt on her chest. There were things she wanted he could not offer. "But it's different now." Her eyes were beginning to avoid his. "I do not know your staff like I knew mine. They do not know me. Even if you showed me where to sneak off to, they may get upset at me for doing just that. They do not know I like to have my own stash." She felt ridiculous getting so upset over something so small, but that had been her life. It was something she could rely on at every event.

"And I am your wife." Then there was a moment where she broke into even more tears. "I cannot be reckless anymore." It was not that she longed for someone else; it was that she now missed the freedom she once had. "I do not mind when I make mistakes because it only reflects who I am...but now it all suddenly affects you." She hated now having that to carry; she was no longer just one person.

“I miss my home. It’s not been terrible here... but in the back of my mind... I just think I’ll end up back home. As if this were just a trip.” There were tears between her words. Eleanor felt awful saying all of this, not giving his kingdom a fair enough chance.

Oscar couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped at her earnest question about twins. “No, Darling,” he said warmly, the edge of teasing unmistakable, “size doesn’t make twins more likely. Fertility has little to do with inches—though try telling that to a room of advisors who think charts and measurements solve everything.” His grin tilted wryly, remembering it too well. “They had their numbers and calculations, and I endured the indignity so they could tick their boxes. Embarrassing, yes. Necessary? Apparently. Accurate? Not in the slightest.”

He stayed close while she soaked, noting how her body eased under the water’s heat even while her mind refused to still. When she asked if she was the first woman he’d seen in a bath, his gaze held hers, steady and unflinching. “Yes,” he admitted without hesitation, his tone quieter, intimate. “First—and the only one I care to remember. That’s yours to claim.” There was no jest, only truth, spoken simply.

The silence that followed was companionable until her voice softened on the mention of her rose soap. He caught the change immediately, the ache she tried to smother. His chest tightened, protective, and he leaned forward, brushing a damp lock of hair from her temple. “We’ll have it brought here,” he murmured. “Every comfort of yours will find its place in this castle. I won’t have you missing pieces of yourself here.”

When her shaky breath betrayed the weight pressing on her chest, he didn’t call attention to the tears she fought to hide. Pride was hers to keep. Instead, he stayed close, steady, letting his presence speak in ways words couldn’t. He didn’t flinch from her vulnerability, only gave her quiet, grounding strength to lean on.

And when she finally drew that long breath and declared she’d had enough, Oscar rose without question, smooth and calm, making it seem the moment had never broken at all.

Oscar rose with her, wrapping the towel around her shoulders before guiding her carefully out of the bath. He stayed close until he was certain she was steady on her feet, then pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “I’ll give you a moment to dress,” he murmured, voice low and steady, “but don’t hide away in there too long. Come sit with me by the fire.” His hand lingered at her arm for a moment before he stepped back, offering her both space and reassurance in equal measure.

While she changed, he busied himself at the hearth. Kneeling, he placed another log onto the fire, coaxing the flames until they crackled warmly, filling the chamber with golden light and heat. He spread out a thick cushion in front of it, adjusting it with unusual care, ensuring it would be comfortable for her. Every small gesture was deliberate, designed to ease the heaviness he’d seen in her eyes earlier.

When she returned, he was waiting, seated with the firelight painting his profile in soft lines. He reached out his hand, guiding her over with gentle insistence, and settled her down in front of him. His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her back against his chest with a firmness that was both protective and grounding.

Oscar had settled her on the cushions before the fire, easing behind her so she could lean back against his chest. His arms draped comfortably around her waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing meant to anchor her. He let the warmth of the fire fill the silence for a while, then dipped his head slightly so his voice was close to her ear.

“Tell me about home,” he said quietly, his tone free of pressure, more invitation than command. “Not just the castle walls or the duties—but the little things. The parts you miss.” His fingers traced idle patterns against her forearm, steady and grounding. “Don’t hide it from me, Eleanor. Missing it doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful for being here.”

He pressed a small kiss to her hair, letting his lips linger there a moment. “I want to know the woman you were before you became my queen. The moments that shaped you. The places, the scents, the sounds.” He gave her waist a light squeeze. “Your childhood belongs to you, but if you’ll share it, I’d like to carry some of it with you. To understand where you come from.”

His voice softened, the roughness in it tempered with sincerity. “This is your home now, yes—but that doesn’t erase where you’ve come from, or what you’ve loved. You don’t need to tuck it away like something shameful.” He exhaled slowly, his cheek resting against her temple. “I married a woman, not a title. And I’d like to know my wife—every corner of her, even the ones that ache.”

The coolness of the air, contrasting with the heat of the water, snapped her into focus. One moment she had been relaxing in the tub, and the next she was crying about home because of soap. She did not say much when he helped her out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her. She wanted to say many thank yous and apologize for suddenly shifting the mood.

Once he had left the room, she took a moment to help pull herself back in. Those sudden feelings that came from nowhere when she had been trying to simply relax returned. She tried to stop herself again, but after a moment she allowed it, she needed to get it out of her system because it was difficult with each passing day to deny her miss for home.

After a few minutes, she finally left the bathroom. Her hair was in one damp braid to the side, and she wore a simple short-sleeved nightgown. Eleanor's eyes were still very much red and puffy, but she felt comfortable in some odd way to see him sitting there waiting for her. She took her time getting down to the floor with him; there were a few sighs of pain let out from her bruising, but once she was against him, she could begin to adjust herself better.

"It's so much more colorful." She stated simply to him while she lay into him, trying to get herself to copy his deeper breathing pattern. "Yes, my advisors made comments every now and then...But I never had to attend meetings prior to the engagement. I could have fun." She emphasized to him, allowing herself to think freely and not censor herself.

"I got to go to so many balls. They were mainly in my kingdom, but I liked that. I could always return to my room at the end of the night, and then wake up with the smell of the ocean breeze. It was perfect." Eleanor found herself getting choked up then; it was a happy thing, but she missed it and hated to know she would not get that experience ever again. "I knew where everything was. If I wanted to sneak off with someone, I could. If I wanted to go to the kitchens to get more of a pastry, I knew which door to go through to find where they stored their extras."

It then led her into her next thought. "And the staff knew me so well, Oscar. They always knew what to make me; it was remarkable. I am almost positive they were keeping track of my cycle, but...I did not mind it if it meant those mornings I was guaranteed a chocolate croissant." All of that normalcy and routine was now gone, those little traditions now forgotten.

"And most nights... I'd have dinner with my father." And that broke her into tears. "Not every night...he's a king, you understand that...but I always ate with him...he'd visit me in my study if he ever missed a dinner..." So so many small traditions were now completely lost thanks to this marriage.

Oscar allowed himself a quiet, amused smile at her repeated astonishment. “Yes,” he admitted, voice low and laced with dry humor, “measures, calculations, all sorts of unnecessary indignities. Not exactly the sort of thing anyone hopes to perform in front of a doctor, even if it’s for practical reasons like heirs. Embarrassing? Certainly. But better over quickly than fumbled in uncertainty.” He shook his head slightly, still managing a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, and he could tell she found the notion nearly as shocking as he had while undergoing it.

He stayed close as she relaxed into the bath, noting the careful way she adjusted herself and the quiet pleasure the warmth brought her. Her compliment about his hands and arms drew a subtle, private satisfaction from him. “You see more than you think,” he murmured, his tone low and easy, a mixture of warmth and playful pride. “And yes, every movement is deliberate. Not to show off… but to make it easier for you. Always.” He lingered near her side, hands ready to guide or steady without imposing, appreciating the trust and honesty she displayed in every small, unguarded gesture.

Her teasing about drowning made him chuckle quietly. “I’ll stay,” he replied smoothly, voice light yet protective, his presence a calm, steady anchor. He could sense the tension in her shoulders ease as the heat of the bath worked its magic, and he allowed himself to glance down briefly, noting how naturally she seemed to settle with him nearby. Every shiver and sigh she made was absorbed quietly by his attention, part amusement, part genuine affection.

When she admitted how easily she blushed, he suppressed a small grin, feeling an unexpected satisfaction in her candor. “Noted,” he said softly, brushing a hand near hers—not touching, just offering the comfort of proximity. “And if you do drift off… I’ll keep watch. No chance of surprise interruptions on my watch.” His voice held that same calm, playful warmth, letting her know she was safe, seen, and completely at ease in his presence.

Her scattered thoughts made him chuckle quietly. “A book might have advice, but I’ve learned through experience,” he murmured, leaning just slightly closer so she could sense the steadiness of him nearby. “And yes… I have, but only in the interest of learning how to care for someone, not for… anything else.” He paused, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll improvise where the books fail. That’s the fun part.”

His eyes stayed on her, warm and attentive, letting her know that nothing about her curiosity, her blushes, or her scattered thoughts ever made him uncomfortable; it only made him want to stay close, guiding and protecting her through each new moment.

“Did they really need to know the size? That doesn’t affect anything, does it?” Now her mind wandered to what possible things the length of a man could affect, besides the painfully obvious. “Is it…” It took her a moment to get her words together, even if what she was asking was not inappropriate. It just made her remember she was talking to a man about him—something she had never done before meeting him. “Does it affect your fertility? Am I more likely to have twins the…bigger someone is?”

The bath was exactly what she needed, not only to wash off the day itself, but the heat against her abdomen did wonders. She was aware that it would not be completely cured after the bath, but it certainly helped alleviate the pain. Every now and then, she shifted her body, trying to get herself to focus on other regions of her body. Her eyes stayed closed for a while, but even though the tub felt amazing, she could not relax enough to fall asleep.

"Really?" She was surprised and disappointed that the book did not mention this, she was almost sure she had managed to predict something from the unpredictable book. "So am I your first partner you've ever seen in a bathtub then?" While she was surprised at the concept of being the first there, she did like the concept of having something special with him...even if it was as simple as this.

After a long, quiet moment, she sighed and opened her eyes, glancing around the tub. "I still do not have my rose soap." She mumbled, that small reminder that she was not able to call this place home still. Eleanor could feel the feeling of homesickness beginning to creep up on her again. The other things that were still left behind in the castle or were in one of her suitcases and placed in an area she's yet to familiarize herself with. She could feel the weight begin to build on her chest. When her eyes closed, she could picture home and imagine she was in her tub, even if it was shaped slightly differently.

Eleanor had not realized tears were rolling down her face until she breathed an audibly shaky breath. Quickly, she went to wipe her face and push aside the feelings, to act as if those few seconds had not happened. "Alright, I think that is enough tub time then." She stated after one deep breath.