Three weeks after the wedding, Willow and Marie were strolling through the palace gardens after luncheon. Willow spotted Angel up on the balcony of the library and waved. He waved back, and she could see him smiling.
Marie looked at her oddly for a moment, then put a hand on Willow's arm. "Dear, can I ask you question?"
"Of course," she answered blithely.
"Why haven't you and Alaric yet consummated your marriage?"
Willow's mouth opened and shut a few times, with no sound save a small squeak coming out. Her eyes were wide and more than a little panicked. "How did you-" she finally managed.
Steering the dumbfounded princess towards an ornamental bench, Marie sat down next to her and sighed. She didn't say anything, she merely looked at Willow, waiting for her to regain her composure.
"Angel told me this would happen eventually. I was just sort of hoping it would go away..."
"Willow, I thought you liked Alaric, and I was beginning to think that you maybe even loved him. So it leaves me somewhat confused as to why you should be waiting. The two of you sleep in the same bed every night, and yet...well, I'm guessing we won't see an heir anytime soon if you keep up this insistent celibacy."
Willow was thinking back to the night of their marriage, when Angel had told her that the servants would know because of certain...physical aspects that would be, well, missing. It had been an uncomfortable yet reassuring conversation, but he had warned her that it was only a temporary solution. Eventually, word would get beyond the servants quarters, and neither one of them wanted the king to give them a lecture regarding the duties of royal marriages. Still, it had been a fine arrangement as long as it had lasted...
"What are you waiting for, dear?" Marie asked gently.
"I don't know. It's just- we had only known each other three weeks ('or three years', she thought) before the wedding, and I would really like to get to know him better before we, well, consummated anything."
"At the risk of sounding crass, wouldn't that be one way to get to know him better?"
"Marie!"
"Don't look at me with that shocked expression, Willow! Part of marriage is a certain amount of intimacy. You promised that to him and to your country when you took your vows. You are supposed to become one with him, one mind, one flesh, one spirit. That is what marriage is supposed to be. I know that some young ladies might say that it forces to give you to give up some degree of freedom, but what you would get in return is so much greater."
Willow rubbed her temples slowly, having no idea what to do. Suddenly, she looked at Marie in fear. "You aren't going to tell my father, are you?"
Marie almost laughed out loud at Willow's expression of wide eyed fear. "Funny you should put it like that. When most girls ask that question, they mean the opposite. No, I'm not going to tell your father. Yet, Willow. But you can only take so long to get acclimated to marriage before the king finds out. I'd rather he never had to- I'd much rather you and Alaric figure this out before your father feels the need to get involved."
Willow's eyes were full of conflict as she leaned against her waiting woman.
"Talk to him about it," Marie suggested. "I mean, you are his beautiful, intelligent and utterly charming wife. I'm sure he wouldn't mind...anything, actually."
"Oh, Marie! For heaven's sake!" Willow rolled her eyes.
Marie laughed again, giving Willow a squeeze before making her stand up and directing her towards the library.
****
Angel smiled as Willow came in, but he became somewhat curious as she looked around carefully before shutting and locking the door behind her.
"Secret conference?" he joked.
"You better believe it, mister. Can we sit down? We are alone here, right?"
Sitting down next to him on one of the leather sofas, she leaned in close so that she could speak in a low voice. "Marie talked to me today." With that ominous statement, she sat back, awaiting his reaction.
"Doesn't Marie talk to you everyday?" he asked.
"No, Angel! She didn't talk to me! She TALKED to me! About...things. Like sheets and observant servants and royal duties."
"Oh." He sat silent for a moment, when a look of panic crossed his face. "She isn't going to tell your father, is she?"
Willow managed to smile. "That's what I said. Then Marie pointed out that it's usually the opposite problem that leads to that question. No, she's not going to tell him, but she said yet. He's going to know eventually. The whole laundry already does, I'm sure, which means all the maids, most of the kitchen staff, and the footmen are next. Once the footmen know, the underbutlers are only a matter of time, then the valets, and once the valets get hold of gossip, well, I'm sure you can imagine how long they'll be able to keep it..."
Angel smiled at Willow's delineation of the discovery of their secret. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and the vigor of her thought processes. She was wearing a simple overdress of pale blue over a lavender kirtle, and the pastels of her attire merely made her hair seem to flame brighter. Every day was revealing more and more of her princess within. She spoke with perfect aplomb to everyone but him, and she was unleashing an enormous amount of grace that might have seemed too formal in their old world.
Angel loved attending royal functions with her. She would link her arm with his for the whole night, and beamed up at him as was fitting for a new bride. The whole court had applauded in delight when she had kissed him at dinner one night. When she spoke, she would touch him occasionally, soft momentary touches that made sure he was paying attention. Even when she no longer had to pretend for onlookers, she treated him like he was her closest friend and most trusted confidant. She had a wry sense of humor that he was more often privy to than anyone else, and she sometimes whispered his name when she was dreaming. He wondered again why their marriage was in name only...
No. The fact that she was so upset over Marie's finding them out was proof enough that she wasn't ready for anything else. She loved him, but she loved him as a companion and fellow adventurer, which was the same way he cared for her.
He was almost sure of it.
****
For her part, Willow was hoping that if she just kept talking, her embarrassment over the whole situation would just fade. She really loved being friends with Angel, and all this discussion of intimacy was not conducive to a platonic relationship. He treated her like, well, a princess, but it was more than that. He had changed so much from the mysterious vampire he had once been. In all fairness, she knew part of the change was from his time in LA, but becoming human had somehow revived all the inner chivalry that he had always managed to possess.
The ladies of the court practically swooned in his presence, for all that he was lately wed. Willow was sometimes reminded of the reaction Angel had always inspired at the Bronze, if the Bronze had ever had a period dress night. Yet through all his courtesy towards every lady he met, his real concern was for Willow. He was so solicitous it sometimes made her head spin. No matter where they were, if their eyes met, he would give her a certain smile. With that smile, he told her that he was watching out for her, that he still remembered who she had been, that he was glad to be with her as she tried being someone else. That smile made her miss home less. It was the sort of smile she had always dreamed of someone reserving for her.
Of course, she was forced to remind herself, though the smile was full of love, it wasn't that kind of love. And why would she want that kind of love from him anyway?
She didn't. Of course not. Just like she didn't mind the time every night before they fell asleep, each lying in the same bed, neither daring to touch the other. She didn't mind the speed with which Angel disentangled himself the few times that their slumber had decimated the carefully kept space between them.
She didn't mind that her husband didn't kiss her in private.
Angel interrupted her increasingly disturbing thoughts. "The way I see it, Willow, there is really only one solution. You'll simply have to fall in love with me."
She looked at him in horror. She hadn't been vocalizing her thoughts, had she?
"I'm kidding, Willow," he gently prompted.
"Kidding! Well, yeah? Because of the...funny. Yes."
The excruciatingly uncomfortable moment was fortunately ended by a sharp knocking on the door. Angel excused himself and opened it to find a frightened looking page. "His Majesty requests your presence, Your Highness. In the War Room."
"The War Room?" Angel shot Willow a troubled look over his shoulder, then turned back to the page. "Do you know wherefore?"
"A messenger arrived today on horseback, his steed almost running dead from his haste. It is supposed he carried a message of grave import, Your Highness, for the king called for his councilors upon speaking with the man."
"I will come presently." Angel shut the door again, turning back to Willow. "This sounds bad."
She nodded. "You'll tell me about it tonight, won't you?"
"Of course. I should go. I'll see you later. Try not to worry too much, okay?" In an action so swift it seemed completely natural, he placed a quick kiss on her lips as he headed for the door. His footsteps slowed as he realized what he had done without thinking, but it was too late to apologize. He decided not to worry about it as he exited the library and ran down the hall.
For her part, Willow's thoughts were not too concerned with war as she sat with her fingers lightly brushing her lips.
****