Angel burst into the room where Willow was reading, his cheeks flushed and a wide grin on his face. "Willow! You have to come see this."
"See what?" she asked with a bemused smile.
"Just come outside. Look, I even have your cloak. Come on!"
Allowing him to bundle her up in the thick velvet garment, she could hardly keep up as he practically ran to the doors leading to the palace gardens. Pausing before the large doors he gave her a mysterious smile. "Are you ready?" he asked ominously.
"I suppose I'll have to be," she replied.
Throwing open the doors, he pulled her out amongst the frost covered flower beds. "Watch," he whispered. Then...
"What?" Willow asked as he looked at her expectantly. She hadn't seen anything to occasion remark.
"Look! I'm breathing!" he cried.
"Angel, you've been breathing since we got here," she pointed out.
"Yes, but now you can see it!" he laughed. Willow finally saw what he meant, as his breath fogged in the crisp morning air. She couldn't help but giggle as her husband, prince, and future king remained enraptured by the visual manifestation of his breath.
Actually, Willow herself was not overly used to it. After all, Sunnydale winters were not known for their freezing temperatures, save the miraculous snowfall the year before. It wasn't long before Willow and Angel were both trying to make rings out of their crystallized breath, and practically hyperventilating in the excitement of it all. They both fell onto an ornamental bench, feeling refreshed, both from the chill in the air as well as the unmitigated silliness of their games.
"I love how it swirls around," Angel said, puffing out once more to prove his point.
"I like the way it gets tossed around by the breeze," Willow added.
"Hey! Would your breath do the same thing to my breath as the wind?" he asked.
"Let's see," she replied. He gently exhaled, and Willow leaned forward to breathe upon the dissipating cloud. They each watched the fine mists swirl and dissipate, only to find their mouths excessively close once the experiment had evaporated. There was yet another moment of awkwardness. Such instances had lessened in the weeks since their dream induced intimacy, but still cropped up now and again.
Yet, something had changed, Willow realized. There was a new sort of confusion, not the fear of getting caught, and not just embarrassment...
"Oh," she said suddenly, falling off the bench.
"Are you alright?" Angel asked with concern as he helped her up.
"Fine, fine, just a little cold. I'm just going to go back to the library, warm up, I'll see you later." she walked away quickly, her cheeks rosy, but no longer from the cold. She was determined not to think about it, but all her determination was for naught as her incalcitrant mind kept turning over her fresh realization. Her almost-kisses with Angel were becoming increasingly difficult to deal with not because they made her uncomfortable.
Rather, she had started wishing they would actually come to pass.
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If Willow's subconscious was anything to go by, then she had been waiting for Angel to kiss her long before the morning's small epiphany. But the fact that her waking mind was finally catching up disturbed her in a way she couldn't even define.
She focused again on the book, but her mind was thinking only of how warm his lips would have been in the cold air...
"Bad! Bad wrong bad bad bad bad." Willow's self-scoldings had been with her for many years, but she cut herself off suddenly. "Bad?" she said to the empty room, her brow furrowed in thought. She looked at the ring on her finger.
Shutting her book, she began to pace around the library, occasionally clutching at her head as she was overtaken by somewhat...revolutionary thought processes. She was still there several hours later when the sun went down. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back and marched out of the room with undeniable purpose.
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Angel was tired. He had ridden out into the town in the hopes of taking his mind off his rather peculiar home life, but it hadn't worked. He seemed to choose the one day when all the young lovers in the country had convened in the capitol city to make him feel wretched. There were pretty wenches flirting with their admirers, some bold young men even stealing kisses. One couple had been so amorous, they hadn't even noticed their prince riding by. A tradesman and his glowing, pregnant wife had bowed as Angel rode past, and he couldn't help but notice how happy the young settled couple had looked.
To make it worse, the town had been absolutely crawling with redheads.
In a modest church on the outskirts of the town, he had seen a wedding procession, the bride positively sparkling with love for her proud husband. She did not cry tears of sadness on her wedding day, Angel thought disloyally, though he scolded himself for the unworthy notion in the next minute.
Eventually, the prosperity and goodwill of his nation proved too much for his gloomy disposition, and he headed back to the palace and his oddly platonic marriage. Having retreated to his bedchamber, he sat in front of a dying fire, wondering why they had been dragged through the portal in the first place.
He looked up as Willow entered the room.
She was as jumpy as a cat, her eyes wide and her movements oddly jerky. She kept twisting her hands together, and her whole demeanor was one of concentrated nerves. Yet she came toward him purposely, with a determination that was only slightly lessened by her palpable fear.
"Angel," she began, her voice unnaturally high and tight. "Hi."
She stopped then, and seemed to be waiting for permission to continue.
"Um, hi," he answered.
"I've been thinking. A lot. About, well, stuff, like who I am. And stuff."
"Right," Angel replied.
"I started wrong...Okay. We are not in Sunnydale anymore. Well, you've been out of Sunnydale longer than I have, but what I mean is that I'm not in Sunnydale and you aren't in LA and this world is completely different. Because, you know, of the whole alternate dimension thing. And we both had...roles, before. And duties, and loyalties. But we aren't there anymore, so I was sort of thinking that our duties in this world are more- wait, that sounds stupid."
Angel looked at her in disbelief. Could she possibly be saying what he thought she was saying, or was he just hearing what he wanted to hear? She wouldn't meet his eyes, so it made it more difficult to tell.
"Ummm," she continued. "Well, we've been here for quite some time now. And, you know, I always cared about you. Because, well, you saved my life all the time and that was really great, but also because you were...you. I mean, I guess I always trusted you, except when you were evil, but I liked you a lot. Because you are likeable. And I did. Like you. Um, but, you know, now we're here together. And sometimes I think that it was a mistake that I came with you, because it didn't seem to make much sense. But I am here, with you, and during the time that we've been here, our relationship has...changed. No, that isn't what I meant. Well, I mean to say, that we've, um, gotten to know one another much better. And, also, see each other in different circumstances. Because, before, whenever we ran into each other, it was to fight evil or because you had something cryptic to- never mind. We saw each other in specific places and situations. But here, it's very different.
'This world is sort of, well, classier. You know? I can't honestly say that I don't like being a princess and having people adore me on principle. But that isn't the topic. Well, you know, as a prince and my husband besides, you have to treat me in a certain way. And I guess I sort of like it. Because having a handsome man smile at me like I'm all he sees and escort me about with my hand on his arm and do all the chivalrous things you do is...nice. But people like your father remind me that you, as in you, Angel, are the gentleman. It isn't your upbringing and it has nothing to do with the portal travelling. It's you. And...wait, I lost the topic." She paused, looking confused.
"Willow-" he began, but her eyes brightened and she held up a finger.
"No, I remember. Okay. Well, I mentioned all my thoughts about who I was. Because Willow Rosenberg, UC Sunnydale student and best friend of Buffy Summers, was in love with Oz. Still is, in many ways, even though he left. And then there's Angel, Angelus, vampire and former resident of hell, who loves aforementioned Buffy Summers.
'But Princess Aurelia never technically knew any of those people. Neither did Prince Alaric. And, as a married couple, since we are they, I just find myself wondering if, maybe, we wouldn't be completely right in abiding by the rules of their marriage by-"
She stopped, and Angel almost sighed out loud. She had almost said it, and he was really, really hoping she would say it.
"That makes it sound like a moral obligation, and that isn't what I mean to say," she corrected herself. In her nervousness, she began walking in small circles, still refusing to look at him. "I don't want to say this and have you be disgusted with me, Angel. I just hate living like this. Seeing you every day, sharing a bed with you, wishing it wasn't just an act. I'm only human, and you've been so wonderful, and I'm tired of feeling guilty when I find myself..." her words faltered then, and she sat on the back of the sofa, her back facing Angel. Her shoulders were stooped with the difficulty of the words she had been trying to say.
"Why do you feel guilty?" he asked then, his voice quiet.
"Well, I started wondering that myself! I mean, from the looks of it, we aren't going home anytime soon. We're married, after all. Different names used, us nonetheless. And Oz left me, and Buffy's trying to move on with her life without you, and yet I feel like-"
He came around in front of her then, and put his finger under her chin to make her look at him. "Like what?" he whispered.
"Like they would be, maybe, scandalized, if they knew." Her breath was getting caught in her throat as he looked at her so closely, the dark red embers of the fire glowing in his dark eyes.
"If they knew what? That we're lost? That we're married?"
"No," she shook her head. "That-"
"That I might be falling in love with you?"
She was holding her breath, that he could tell in the silence of the room.
"You can't blame me," he smiled. "Every day, I'm amazed yet again by your strength and grace. Some people would have broken under half so much pressure, but you not only keep going, you're determined to be cheerful about it. That takes a lot, but you keep managing."
"And you tend to be attracted to strong women," she pointed out with a half smile.
"True. Furthermore, I haven't even mentioned your incredible beauty. I just didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to impose. Also I'm a coward."
"Didn't want to take advantage?" she guessed.
"That too."
"Well," her eyes looked searchingly into his own, "take all the advantage you want."
It was his turn to catch his breath, but her eyes were truthful, with just a hint of shame at her own brazenness. Determined not to let her take back her offer or her admittances, he took her at her word.
With a swiftness stemming from the long denial of his desire, he leaned over and pressed his lips to her upturned mouth.
*****
Marie entered the royal bedchamber quietly, but almost tripped over her own feet at the sight within. Her dearest princess was being ruthlessly kissed by her husband as she precariously balanced on the back of a sofa. Silently backpedalling, Marie exited the room and tried to stop the wicked smile that kept surfacing on her face.
She really needed to prepare Willow for the banquet, but...
Perhaps she should just take a short walk before she returned.
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Willow's brain managed to reflect that it was certainly to her benefit that Angel had retained his centuries of romantic experience, right before all her cognizant thought processes shut down.
Her perch on the sofa was uncomfortable, and her head was still aching from her hours of intense thought, but she noticed nothing save the insistent pressure of her husband's gifted mouth. If this was what he could do to her with nothing more than a kiss, then why had she waited so long? The room was dark and cold, but she was burned by his every touch. She was glad her speech (if you could call such a convoluted mess of random words a 'speech') had worked. Oh yes, she was very very glad.
For his part, Angel was just as glad. He had been using quite a bit of control to keep his relationship with Willow stable, and to finally let go was turning out to be a marvelously pleasant experience. Perhaps it was the long time that had elapsed since he had kissed anyone, perhaps it was the unresolved sexual tension that had been circulating between them for weeks, perhaps it was the novelty of being human again. In any case, the mere feeling of her lips was-
There was a loud knocking at the door. He broke away from Willow with an exasperated sigh, and she leaned her face against his chest. "I'm beginning to hate servants," she muttered against the velvet. He laughed in reply, and she hopped off the sofa. She stole one last kiss, then called out, "Enter if you are able!"
"Wrong universe," he pointed out.
"Right," she smiled, her lips rosy from his attentions.
Marie came in with an odd air of excitement. "Your Highnesses, the banquet will begin soon, and neither of you is ready. Come, Princess, I will attend to you, and your husband must do what he can for himself. You are decidedly late! What were you doing?"
"Lost track of the time," Willow explained, her eyes on her husband's. He smiled at her, a sensual smile full of promises, but neither one was aware of the knowing look that crossed Marie's face.
"Of course," she replied in a neutral voice, dragging Willow away to her dressing chamber. Willow was decidedly dazed as Marie dressed and arranged her, chattering on and on about nothing at all, the whole time observing Willow's dreamy face very carefully. It was only as they were about to depart for the feast that Willow actually noticed the gown she was wearing.
"Marie!" she hissed. "I can't wear this!"
"Why not, pray? I think you look vastly fetching in it."
"Look at me!" Willow looked at the mirror hesitantly. The dress itself wasn't really problem. It was more the lack of the dress that left her so concerned. The amount of decolletage revealed by the neckline was not in her usual style, and she futilely tugged at the firm brocade.
"It's a little, low, don't you think?" she squeaked. One wrong move, and she would find herself quite exposed to the entire court.
"Don't be ridiculous. Now hurry up, dear. You are already late," Marie reprimanded her. Willow walked out the door with a somewhat defeated air, so did not see the look on her lady's face. Marie smiled at her reflection in the full length mirror.
"It will do him some good to go mad with wanting during dinner. Don't you think?" She winked at herself, and with a youthful giggle, swished out the door herself.
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Angel strummed his fingers on his forearm impatiently as he waited for his wife. He just wanted the evening to be over, so that he could take her back upstairs and finally-
"Oh, sweet heaven," he whispered, for Willow had entered the room. He would not have been able to really describe the dress. His eyes registered neither color nor fabric, neither embroidery nor trim. All he could have said was that the dress managed to destroy all his capacity for thought at first sight.
"Angel? Angel!" he realized Willow was saying with some concern.
"Mmm?" he replied, his tongue being sluggish to form any actual words.
"Is something wrong with my dress? You keep staring. Should I change?" her question was not asked to fish for compliments, but merely out of self-conscious ignorance.
"No," he replied firmly. "You should NOT change."
The glossy look in his eyes convinced Willow that he was completely sincere, and for the first time, she began to realize why Marie had chosen that particular dress. Taking his arm with a small smile hovering around her mouth, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Shall we dine, milord?"
"Only if it won't take too long," he replied, the look in his eyes making her flush with pleasure.
They entered the main hall together.
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There were moments during that evening when the rest of the court might as well have been nonexistent, for all the notice the couple of honor took of them. Course after course came and went, with neither prince nor princess eating very much.
"It's about time," Garwin declared as he and his mother watched the lovestruck pair.
"You'll have nieces and nephews in no time, dear," his mother replied. "I just hope they have some time together before this ridiculous war occurs, as it no doubt shall."
She would later curse herself for her unlucky words, but had no idea of their import as she said them, and continued to chat with her son.
A few moments later, a special platter was brought to the princess. One of her other ladies-in-waiting, Gwen, conveyed the good wishes of the chef. "He prepared this dish specifically for you, Your Highness," she said as she curtsied before Willow. "He has understood that you are fond of chocolate, and has prepared this tart in the hopes that it will please your discriminating palate." The nobles politely applauded, and Willow smiled in delight.
"Thank you, Gwen. I will convey my thanks to the chef as well. Oh, but I couldn't eat another bite, not just yet. Will you taste it for me?" she begged.
"Princess, I doubt not that it is delicious, but I would not presume-"
"Oh, please. I am too full right now. You try a bit, and if it meets your approval, I will endeavor to eat some more." Willow was just remembering that Gwen had once been as important a companion as Marie to the princess, and her guilt made her hope that her mark of favor might restore some of Gwen's status. She dug her fork into the delectable looking dessert, and held it up to the lady's mouth. "Please, I would love for you to try it," she pleaded.
Gwen smiled and nodded, and everyone waited expectantly as she took the fork into her mouth. Her eyes widened at the flavor, and she nodded as she chewed.
"Good?" Willow asked.
Gwen nodded emphatically, and Willow used a fresh fork to dig out a bite for herself. She almost had it to her mouth, when Gwen's hand suddenly clamped down on her wrist. Willow looked up at her in shock.
"I think," Gwen gasped, "Your Highness should not taste it." Her lips were blue, and she began to shake. Clawing at the air, she fell backwards, her head striking the stone floor quite hard. Willow fell to her knees beside the woman, chafing her trembling hands as others gathered around.
"Poisoned, Princess," the poor woman whispered. "Please, I didn't know. I think-ah! I think the chef is innocent. I," her words were halting, and all the blood had rushed from her face. "I- I am glad you, you did not- taste it. Your kindness saved- saved your life- I-" her body convulsed then, and her hands went quite limp.
"No," Willow breathed, backing away in horror. "No!" she shrieked, clutching at her gown. Angel helped her up, but she hardly noticed as her eyes rolled in panic.
"Who would dare attempt to attack my daughters life?" the king's voice thundered across the hall. Suddenly, guards ran into the doors.
"Your Majesties," he bowed before the king, "A young woman was seen riding away from the palace. She had been engaged as an assistant in the kitchen for three weeks. She was riding towards...the border." The soldier's voice was filled with dread.
"Aylmar," the king growled. "Gentlemen, let us adjourn to the councilroom. My dear," he said in a softer voice as he turned to Willow, "I am sorry, but you it will not happen again, I swear. We will teach him that he cannot make attacks on your inviolate person and expect it to go unpunished." He whirled away, his face as hard as stone.
Angel was quite upset, not only by the attempt on Willow's life and the death of her servingwoman, but by the fact that he was forced to leave her to plan a war. She was trembling quite violently in his arms, and he could tell that her slipping self-control was really only the first stage of extreme panic.
Marie appeared, her face much older than it had been earlier, and she took Willow into her arms gently. "Go, my prince," she said to Angel. "Plan your war, and I will watch over your bride until you return."
He nodded gratefully, and kissing Willow's white cheek, he followed the king.
*****
As Angel entered the room, the first thing he noticed was that Marie had fallen asleep in a chair in front of the fire. She stirred as he walked over to her, and she stood up, putting a finger to her lips. "She's asleep," she whispered, gesturing to the mound of blankets Angel assumed to be his wife.
"How is she?" he asked with great concern.
The look on Marie's face did nothing to allay his fears. "I have never seen her this distressed. She is not quite herself, and though she has ample reasons to be upset, I cannot help but worry. I hate to see her so shaken."
Angel nodded. "Thank you, Marie."
"So, Your Highness, what are the king's plans?"
He shut his eyes wearily. "We are to march at daybreak."
Marie's gasped. "No! Not yet! You have only just- but it isn't my place. I am sorry, Your Highness." He looked at her curiously, but she curtsied wearily.
"You will want your rest. Goodnight, Prince Alaric." She left the room with a tired air, and Angel remembered that she had only just begun to know her son, but Garwin would be leaving the next day with the rest of them.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he crossed the room to the bed and looked down at his wife's pillow.
It was empty.
"Willow?" He threw back the blankets, but the bed was unoccupied. Suddenly panicked, he looked around the room in terror. She was nowhere to be seen.
He shivered, and as he saw that the balcony doors were slightly open, his heart seemed to stop. Throwing the doors open, he cast his glance out over the stone railing. "Willow?" he asked again. Then he saw her.
She was huddled against the wall, her thin shift no protection aginst the cold night air. Cursing under his breath, he ran over to where she had crumpled.
"Me. He wanted to kill me..." she whispered as he gathered her up in his arms. Her thin body was terribly cold, and he ripped of his doublet to wrap it around her shoulders. he carried her back inside, securing the doors on the way in. He settled her into the bed, and kicking off his boots, he climbed in next to her. Her skin was still much too cold, and he rubbed his hands up and down her shaking arms, hoping the friction would warm her.
"Are you insane?" he whispered, his voice angry and frightened. "You could have gotten frostbite, or hypothermia. You could have died."
"Dead. He wanted me dead!" she cried.
"Yes? We knew he hated us. Why are you so upset that you would let yourself almost freeze to death?"
"I've been attacked and nearly murdered by any number of monsters," she began, "but this is different. Even Faith, who at one time was on our side, was different. But Angel, that man is your father! I tried to love him, I wanted him to be happy for us. And he tried to kill me! So cruelly, such calculation. Faith was hot tempered, it reminded me how weak and utterly human she was. But him- poison! And not even himself. To send a spy... He didn't want me dead because he even hated me. He just wanted me dead to start a war. And then...Gwen..." she stopped then, squeezing her eyes together. "It's my fault."
"What? What are you talking about?" Angel asked, furious that his father had reduced her to such a state.
"I should have known something horrible would happen if I said those things to you. I should have known it was wrong-"
"Willow, something horrible happened because my father is horrible, not for any other reason. Gwen died because of my father, not because of you. Remember that."
Willow nodded dumbly, but her eyes were grateful. Some warmth was seeping back into her extremities, and her face was regaining color. "What happened at the council?" she asked.
"We're leaving tomorrow." Angel's voice was low and heavy.
Willow shook her head violently. "No! You can't! Not when I finally realized-" she paused, looking up at him. "Not when I finally realized that I love you."
"Oh, Willow," was all that Angel was able to say.
"Now you'll go to war and I won't have the time to-" he stopped her with a kiss. The tragedy of the evening seemed more and more distant as they realized that they had only one night left, one night before he disappeared. Her body was no longer cold, it was hot and throbbing, and his felt much the same way.
And his mouth, his lips, were as eloquent as any of the words he didn't have the breath to whisper. He clung to her desperately, and she would not have been able to tear herself away if her life had depended on it. She could only do her best to reciprocate each feverish embrace.
There was no thought of war or treaties that night, no thought of duty or even servants. If past loves were remembered, it was with the vague fondness of a pleasant memory, and not the shooting pain of broken hearts. Actually, the night was not for much thinking. It was far more focused on touch.
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"You'll be careful?" Marie asked in a small voice, stroking Garwin's hair with trembling fingers.
"Of course I will."
There were not many hours left till daybreak, but the pair had been sitting together for a long time, and neither showed any inclination to leave.
"Did you get your boots mended?"
"Yes, Mother. The cobbler repaired them." His head shifted under her hand, but he stayed where he was.
"Has your sword been sharpened?"
"Yesterday."
"Oh, Garwin?"
"Yes, Mother?"
"I love you," she whispered.
He stood up from his position at her feet and yanked her into his arms. He hugged her as tightly as possible, and felt her tears on the nape of his neck.
"Mother, I swear," he promised, "I swear I will come back alive. I will protect my prince and brother, I will fight against the army of the most despicable man on this earth, and I will come home to you. I will come home to you and we will never lack for each other ever again. Okay? I love you. I will not die just yet."
She squeezed him even tighter.
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Willow awoke suddenly, not really knowing why. She thought she had felt something brush against her cheek, but there was nothing there as she opened her eyes. Instead, she got an eyeful of her sleeping husband, no longer just in name, and couldn't help but smile. If only the morning could never come, she thought she could be perfectly content. To lay in their bed with his arm wrapped posessively around her waist-
There it was again. It was like a breath of air. She hated to leave the comfort of the blankets and her lover, but her perpetual curiosity caused her to disentangle herself, shrug into her dressing gown, and walk across the darkened room. Some instinct led her towards the main door leading into the hallway. Not really knowing why, she opened the door and walked out of the room.
"Oh," she sighed, because there it was. The same swirling nothingness that had started the whole adventure, the same lightless vortex that she had seen on her wedding day. Even in the darkness of the hallway, it was not difficult to see. It stood before her, unblinking and shifting. It was no dream, no part of her imagination. It merely waited, either for a traveller to use it or to open up in another dimension.
So it had arrived. Her transport home, her ticket back to the 'real' world. This world, with it's own set of rules and complications, would disappear, and she would return to the life she had been forced to leave. No more palace, no more war, no more princess.
No more Angel.
She knew they would not be able to explain, to go home and transfer their relationship, their roles. They had pre-established lives, there. Nothing she currently cared so much about had even ever existed a few months previous.
All she needed to do was go wake up Angel, bring him out into the hallway, and they would make the homeward journey. She would see her friends again, resume her life where she had left off. All she had to do was go tell Angel...
She was suddenly a blur of motion. She didn't know the rules of these portals, and from what they had seen, they were somewhat unstable. She didn't want to mess up this time. She flew back into the room, determination etched into every line of her slim body.
She locked the door.
She went back to bed, and drifted off to sleep.