Garwin looked on in half amusement, half confusion as Willow and Angel continued their carefully choreographed dance of avoidance. They not only managed to escape any and all physical interaction, but there was absolutely no eye contact. What Garwin found truly amazing, however, was the fact that they were so obvious in doing so. He was sure that he was not the only person noticing their odd behavior. He was sure that most people would chalk it up to the stress of impending war, but he knew the news of Aylmar's betrayal could never have this sort of effect on them.
He smiled as his mother sat down beside him and took his hand. He looked twice, however, at the expression on her face.
"From whence comes this bemused smile?" he asked.
"I have no doubt but that you have noticed the strange behavior of our prince and princess?"
"Indeed. I think most of the court has. But from your knowing smile, should I assume you have an idea?"
"I believe I do."
"Have they finally consummated their marriage?" he asked quietly.
"Why, my son! How did you know about their...hesitancy?" she asked with genuine surprise.
"Fear not, Alaric did not tell me. Yet I am perceptive enough, and I have had my suspicions that their bridal bed has remained pure."
"Well, unfortunately, both for their mutual felicity in marriage and for the kingdom's hopes for an heir, you are right. But I do not think they have amended that lack, exactly. Instead..." she stopped thoughtfully.
"Confide in me, mother. I will keep your counsel faithfully."
"I do not know to what extent, but I believe they have experienced at least some small amount of new intimacy. New lovers are never this uncomfortable around one another. No, I think they are both struggling from the discovery of something else entirely."
"Love?" he asked.
"Desire," she intoned, winking playfully at her son when he laughed in surprise.
****
Willow was going to die.
She could feel the curious stares of the court, but she could not seem to do anything to stop the waves of embarrassment that were emanating from her body. Sitting next to her husband, all she could think about was the feelings that had been coursing through her that morning when she had awoken to find herself in his arms. She could not help but remember his arms wrapped so tightly around her, the heat from their combined bodies, the feeling of his lips, the taste of his mouth...
Yes, she was going to die. She was going to wither and perish solely from the torture of extreme embarrassment. She tried to concentrate on her meal, but thinking about food took her mind to naughty places. Food was bad.
She wanted to run out, to escape his presence, to stop thinking about the feeling of being pressed up against him. She wanted to stop wanting him.
She wanted to die. Anything but have to sleep next to him that night.
****
Angel was about to use his fork to poke out his eyes, in the hope that the horrible pain might distract him from the small woman sitting next to him. Of course, he knew it probably wouldn't work, and if it couldn't even do that, there was no point in making himself blind.
He was supposed to be her friend and protector. He was supposed to be the one person she could trust. He was NOT supposed to take advantage of her in her sleep.
There was a subversive yet logical voice in his head, pointing out that they were, in fact, married. It also made the observation that Willow had been no more asleep than he had been that morning, and that she could have easily stopped him, that if she had really objected to the feeling of his lips on hers, she could have pushed him away.
Angel wished that voice would shut up.
He needed to concentrate on his duties as a prince (providing an heir, the voice said. Shut up, Angel replied), he needed to think about the war, about how he could prevent his father from destroying everyone he cared about (especially his extremely lovely, extremely soft wife, the voice said. Shut UP, Angel replied.).
Above all else, he needed to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms and take her back to their bedchamber, where he would finish what their respective subconsciouses had already begun.
He needed to put down his fork.
****
Garwin had sent Thayne away for a few hours, while he and Marie spent some time together. Wandering into the stables, Thayne stopped suddenly when he heard a low voice speaking nearby. Turning around, he looked for the person whose voice he was hearing, but there was no one in sight. A horse whickered and the voice laughed in response. The laugh was louder than the words had been, and Thayne followed the sound.
He found a man sitting next to a horse a few stalls down. The horse was in poor shape, for it was not even standing, but had lay down in the bed of straw. The man looked up apprehensively, but Thayne smiled amiably to put him at ease.
"Forgive my intrusion," Thayne apologized. "I heard a voice, and followed it to...you."
"Not at all. I was just having a conversation with Evadne here."
"Is she going to be alright?" Thayne asked, coming over to pat her hindquarters.
"I hope so," the man replied. "My name is Stephan, by the way."
"What happened?"
"We rode hard all the way from the border."
"Oh! Then you're the one who brought the message about Aylmar's preparations for war."
"Yes. Evadne did all the work, though." His eyes were shadowed as he ran his hand up her graceful nose.
"Good work it was," Thayne remarked.
"It's worse than ever," Stephan said, his face worried. "The country has been at war for so long, but it's different this time. This isn't going to be about victory-- this is going to be about inflicting as much pain as possible. This is going to be intimately horrible."
Evadne nudged his still hand worriedly.
"The prince doesn't deserve this. Neither does Garwin," Thayne said sadly.
"You speak as if you know them."
"I am Garwin's personal guard, appointed by the princess," Thayne explained, his grey eyes miraculously empty of any and all pride. He said it merely as a statement of fact.
"That's quite an honor," Stephan remarked with a little awe for the unassuming man kneeling next to him in the straw, but Thayne just shrugged.
"I wish we could avoid this war. I don't want to see more people die." Thayne dropped all pretense of being any sort of soldier, and he looked exactly like the frightened young man he was.
Evadne looked at them, and each of the two humans fell silent. Her still belabored breathing was the only sound in the stall.
****
Willow glowered at the leaves falling all around her. She and Angel had arrived in late summer, and fall was coming quickly. The air was already becoming chilly, and soon it would be winter...
"Of all the ridiculous times to start a war!" she muttered into her fur lined cloak. War was always atrocious, but it was even worse in winter. It meant even more unnecessary deaths.
Thinking about death and mayhem was the most effective way to keep herself from thinking about Angel. She had used the same method when she found Xander kissing Cordelia, blocking out the confusion and overwhelming emotion with a focused view of the impending disaster.
Of course, now, just as then, it couldn't work completely. She did her best to keep her mind focused, but nothing seemed to work for very long, and memories of the morning would come scampering back. Abandoning all pretenses of princesshood, she began kicking the leaves covering the ground with a brutality she had used only when fighting demons in the past. After a few minutes, there were leaves in her face, on her cloak and floating in the air, and she herself was flushed from the exertion. Much as she had been flushed that morning...
"Aaaaaahhh!" she screamed. "Shut up, brain!"
"Direct approach," a voice came from behind her. "Does it work?"
Willow whirled around to find Marie smiling. "Not one word," she threatened through clenched teeth.
"I didn't say anything," Marie pointed out innocently. "Come along, walk with me and I shall distract you from your incalcitrant brain with the inane chatter that comes so easily to a lady-in-waiting like myself."
With a sigh of relief, Willow took her arm, and the two women walked away together.
****
Of course, Marie could only distract Willow for so long. Willow was forced to endure yet another wretched meal with her silent husband beside her, but she wished it could have lasted forever. She knew that however uncomfortable she and Angel were as they picked at the food on their plates, it would not be able to compare to what they would be suffering in a few hours. They would be sharing the same bed yet again.
Willow cursed her unruly subconscious. She had learned to control herself, to create a persona she felt she could present to the world, but there was nothing she could do when her own dreams were betraying her. She could smile at Angel like she cared for him in a friendly way, she could take his arm with a casual grace that belied no sort of further emotion, but there was no way the morning's performance could be regarded as platonic.
The worst part of her situation was that there was no way to guard herself against similar gaffes in the future. She wasn't a very light sleeper, and if her body was enjoying itself-
Stifling a groan, Willow tried to think about something else, all the while knowing that bedtime was dangerously close.
****
Angel felt that he should say something. He felt that he should break this heavy silence, try to penetrate the deadly tension that seemed to cover their bedroom.
Say something. He knew there were words available for use, he just had to figure out what they were. He had to find something benign and comforting, something that could sound apologetic but not regretful. He needed words with no sexual implications, words that would put her at ease but not make her feel vulnerable. Oh, and perhaps some words with just the slightest touch of tastefully heartwarming humor. He needed words that wouldn't make him cringe immediately after he said them, words that wouldn't embarrass her either.
He needed to say something before she fell asleep.
"Goodnight, Angel," her soft voice said suddenly, as she rolled onto her side, her back facing him. She was as far to her side of the bed as she could be without falling off.
"Goodnight, Willow," he replied. They were not, perhaps, the words he had been looking for, but they would do until the morning.
****
Their dreams that night were oddly vague and unimpressive. They were so dull, in fact, that neither would be likely to remember them the next morning.
As Willow woke up, her first cognizant thought was to check and make sure her lips were having nothing to do with Angel's. They were not, and she deemed it safe to completely rouse herself from sleep. It was in doing so that she realized she really did not want to, owing to the comfort of her position.
In Angel's arms.
Now, although she froze at the thought at first, it was quite different than the previous dawn. There was no intertwining, no movement. She was cradled in his arms as if he could protect her from anything, at least during sleep. It was, all in all, not a bad place to be.
Deciding herself to be in no immediate need to vacate the bed, she closed her eyes again. She felt Angel shift, and, knowing he would wake in a moment, wondered what his reaction would be. She felt his arms tense as he realized situation, but he relaxed as quickly as she had. Neither moved, and for a short time, there was no need to explain, no need to wonder or surmise what had happened.
Opening her eyes once more, Willow looked up at Angel.
"Good morning."
His smile, though sluggish with sleep, made the warmth of his embrace complete.
"Good morning, Princess."
****