Oh My, I Messed Up the Story

Three months passed as I tried to get used to my decision to make my marriage work. With all the nobles back at their estates, things were quiet on the political front.

Mariela spent her days as usual at first but once her belly began to show Franz insisted she remain secluded. It was insane that no one had figured it out yet but I was willing to bet Sigmund was getting suspicious after she didn't show her face at any meals for over a week.

Once I decided not to play matchmaker for my husband with Marcy, there wasn't really a point in orchestrating meetings between them. Our trips to the kitchen for food became slightly less frequent but I couldn't stop them completely for no reason. Both Al and Marcy would be confused and besides, it was a way to kill time.

I had to hand it to her, she was a phenomenal actress. If our conversation in the storage closet never happened I would still believe in her sincere desire to be our friend. As it was I couldn't tell what was real or fake.

Did she actually like us or only showed her friendly side because we were working toward a common goal? I was glad Al hadn't fallen for her tricks this time.

That being said...things with Al were a bit hard to describe. Our habit of keeping busy didn't change much. We went out in the snow, played cards, read books, and rode horses in our usual war against boredom.

However, it was very obvious that he was courting me because he regularly gave me gifts, compliments, and physical affection.

I took an online love languages quiz a few years ago when I had nothing better to do and discovered that my primary love language was acts of service. After a few weeks of 'dating' Al it was obvious that his was physical touch.

If we were reading, he would sit close with an arm slung around my shoulders. When we went riding he insisted on helping me on and off Rapunzel personally rather than let the stable hands do it. He frequently played with my hair or touched my arm casually when we sat around talking.

I couldn't help but wonder if he was touch-starved from all his years alone. Sometimes when I saw his blissful expression simply from me mussing his hair to tease him I wanted to go punch every member of his family in the face for not showing him any love growing up.

I wasn't in love with my husband but I couldn't deny that I was protective of him. Or that I rather enjoyed kissing him.

Though both of us were novices in the beginning it got better with practice. I put my foot down about anything beyond that though, not wanting to end up like Mariela. If we were going to start a family someday it would NOT be under threat.

That had been an awkward conversation—to the point that we couldn't look each other in the eye for the rest of the day—but I had to do it.

Back home, having a family was a mystical, far-off concept since I was so single I didn't even have a crush on anyone.

I always thought I'd settle down and become a mom around thirty. I may be mentally twenty-four now but this body was seventeen. Kids were out of the question.

Even if they weren't...My mom came from a home with an abusive father. She told us that when we chose a partner to spend our lives with, we needed to think about the kind of parent they would be. Al had a kind heart but no sense of responsibility. What kind of dad would that make him?

"What are you thinking about?" Al's voice sounded in my ear as he hugged me from behind.

I nearly jumped out of my skin and flailed my arms at him angrily as I broke free. "Don't scare me like that!"

It's very disconcerting when someone you're thinking weird thoughts about sneaks up on you. My heart raced as I observed his gray eyes overflowing with mirth.

He was wearing his favorite black sweater that used to be mine and his shaggy hair could use a trim. His genes mixed with Catherine du Pont's would produce beautiful babies.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were so lost in thought," he said sweetly before leaning over to kiss my cheek. My face was red before but now it was completely aflame.

"I was thinking about visiting Mariela," I said quickly. "She's probably even more bored than we are since she's stuck in her room."

This wasn't entirely true—Mariela's situation was but one stop on the train of thought he derailed. But I would rather die than tell him what I was actually thinking about when he startled me.

We may have been married but we were also in the 'testing the relationship to see if it worked' stage so bringing up a future would only get his hopes up. I was taking it one day at a time.

Al frowned. "I don't know what they intend to do. Feigning an illness only works for so long. They'll have to announce the pregnancy any day now."

It was too bad ultrasounds didn't exist here. If Mariela was having a girl she wouldn't be a threat since only males could inherit the throne.

She would be able to get Sigmund off her case earlier. But if she was having a boy that would cause further problems before he was even born. Maybe it was for the best.

"But then Mariela will be in danger until the baby is born! And afterwards, if it's a son..." I trailed off.

What kind of monster would hurt his own nephew? Then again, Sigmund had no attachments to anything but power. I wouldn't put it past him.

"Franz is crafty, he won't let anything happen to his family," Al said bitterly. "That child might be his ticket to the throne."

What a horrible thing to say. As if Franz wouldn't protect his wife and child out of love. I saw how much he cared for Mariela—of course he would cherish their child just as much.

Although...he hadn't done anything over the years to help his little brother.

Al's belief that he only cared about people who were of value to him wasn't completely unwarranted. Was it because he was technically competition? But Al never wanted the throne! He just wanted people to like him for who he was instead of for his title.

"Al, what exactly did he do to you to make you feel that way?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Nothing. He did nothing as Sigmund tormented me, Mother berated me, and Father ignored me. I cannot forgive him for standing by and watching. To me, he is nearly as bad as Sigmund. That's why I don't care who becomes king."

I still hadn't figured out why everyone treated Al so poorly. It was almost as if he weren't actually a part of his family.

He certainly didn't look like anyone, with their warmer skin and hair tones. But if he were an illegitimate child, wouldn't the novel have said something about it?