The prince is married in the castle's lavish cathedral three days before I wed Liam, at the simple altar of the chapel.
My ceremony is completed with a soft, sweet kiss to my lips. Rumor has it that Harry only kissed the princess's cheek after taking his vows.
I do not know how Harry's wedding night proceeded, because I haven't seen him in the days since we met in the field outside of James' cottage. And, quite honestly, I do not know when I will be able to ask him about that night without wanting to tear Princess Maria apart.
But I do know how mine went:
Liam carried me to his bed.
He laid me down, kissed me tenderly.
He told me he knew I did not love him yet, but I was a fine lass, and would make a good wife.
He promised to be a good husband to me.
He asked me was it all right for him to claim me then.
I told him yes, and he climbed over me, took me gently, and quickly.
To my surprise, he does not search for blood afterward. He simply dresses with a smile, watching me tie up my dress, and we return unceremoniously to the roaring celebration in the ale house.
I do not cry until I am alone, outside in the darkness, under the pretense of needing to relieve myself.
I long to go to Harry's rooms and confess every detail. I can still hear the pain in his voice. I want to reassure him that my body did not soften for Liam, that I found no pleasure, nor pain.
But I also want to tell him that James was right: Liam is good, that our child is safe.
How strange it is that my first time with Liam was so tender, that my first time with Harry was so devastating, and that I know which I would choose again, and again.
Harry is a storm, he is the blazing sun. He is everything on this earth to me.
But I can't simply slip away and find him: Harry may share his rooms with Maria now. I know not how it works up in the castle when a prince takes a wife.
So I stand at my husband's shoulder, Mary's hand in mine on my other side, until the black night begins to turn blue again, and Liam laughs and throws me over his shoulder to a chorus of raucous cheers.
I close my eyes as he lowers me into our small bed, curling his long frame around me.
"All right, Catie?"
"I'm good, Liam."
"You're a good lass." He kisses the back of my neck. "It will all be okay in the end."
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No Fury
FanfictionThe prince was born in his mother's lavish rooms three days before I emerged on the dingy floor of the ale house. He's a royal . . . she isn't. But the secret friendship that began in childhood grows into something much deeper -- and much more dang...
