Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 309: Violet: Blissful Honeymoon

3 April, 1349. Magdaline Castle, Islia

Lord, her back ached. So did the muscles low in her belly and in the joints of her hips. All Violet had wanted that evening was to stay back in her apartments. She just wanted to let her swollen, aching body rest on her soft feather bed.

It wasn’t to be. Leo had coaxed her into joining that evening’s banquet.

Well, it had been less coaxing and more wheedling and bullying her into it. He’d complained it would be a terrible look if Islia’s new princess wasn’t at a dinner to celebrate a foreign diplomatic visit.

A Moraigthian prince was visiting the court, having arrived the previous day. Violet had stubbornly refused to attend that banquet as well, complaining she was too tired and uncomfortable.

Leo wasn’t going to accept that same excuse for two nights in a row. He’d insisted his parents would be furious if Violet didn’t attend.

She’d felt like asking him how that would differ from how they normally felt about her, but decided not to. There was no point picking another fight. They’d already had their fair share of those and they hadn’t even been married four months.

They were supposed to still be in the blissful honeymoon phase, weren’t they?

Marriage to a man one didn’t really know - or even especially like - wasn’t for the faint of heart, Violet would often tell herself.

Her new husband was as stubborn as a mule. It wasn’t surprising, given he would’ve coasted through life with few people daring to contradict him. That meant he also had a difficult time admitting when he was wrong.

Which was often.

After clashing repeatedly - and heatedly - at the start of their union, they’d at least managed to reach a tense stalemate in the last couple of weeks. Their fighting had mostly died down.

Mostly. At least until Leo stomped into their bedchamber earlier that day and insisted his heavily pregnant wife just had to be at a banquet held in honour of a guest she couldn’t care less about.

Violet had yelled back that if men had babies, Leo would be sprawled on the bed and refusing to lift a finger, much less wanting to sit through dinner and dancing.

She eventually capitulated. She insisted, however, that Leo had to help her to rise up from the bed. He nodded, then clasped both of her hands in his and slowly hauled her upright.

Violet bit her lip as the muscles in her back stretched out.

"Holy fuck, wife. Maybe you’re having twins." he muttered as he looked at her bulging belly.

Had he said that as an insult or a compliment? She wasn’t sure. "I’m sure it’s a strong, healthy son I’m carrying."

"Let’s hope so. I’ll be back within the hour, so I expect to see you dressed and ready by then." Leo walked out of the bedchamber. A moment later, Violet heard the apartments’ doors slam shut.

"Insensitive clod." she muttered.

With a tired sigh, she called her maids into the bedchamber. The three maids assigned to her were pleasant enough, at least. She’d expected Queen Celia to allocate nasty servants to her but the women were soft spoken and biddable.

Of course, they were also spying on her and reporting her behaviour back to the queen. Violet was under no illusions about that.

She wasn’t in the mood to try on different gowns, and having her maids dress and undress her as if she were some living doll. An aching, irritable living doll.

Her maids instead laid out several of them on the bed for Violet to choose from. As she gazed over the silks and satins in a rainbow of rich colours, she remembered her first court gowns. All in a range of austere shades that her mother had approved.

She’d be damned if she’d continue dressing as if she were attending a funeral.

She then remembered when Ilse had been gifted a golden dress by Leo and how it had sparkled-

Violet quickly pushed that memory out of her mind. It became a little easier to do that with each passing day, to push Ilse back into the darkest little corner of her memories. It was a simply a matter of survival, she’d tell herself.

Besides, it wasn’t as if her husband was going to comfort her if she wept every day for her sister, was he?

Violet eventually settled on a satin dress in a jewel toned blue, trimmed with row upon row of gold lace. Her maids laced her into it so that the bodice pushed her now very plump breasts high, yet flowed loosely over her middle. Her hair was dabbed with rose oil and sleekly braided. The circlet that held her veil in place was made of actual gold, with scalloped edges like a coronet.

If she was being forced to parade around the court, she’d decided she was going to do it looking every bit like royalty. She looked in her mirror and smiled a little.

She hoped that when Leo returned for her, he’d be pleased with her appearance too. Perhaps he’d even be proud to have her on his arm.

That was too much to hope for, it seemed. When Leo returned, he barely glanced at her. "Ready?" is all he said.

"Yes." Violet gritted out. Would it kill him to compliment her just once? To make her feel pretty instead of like something he merely had to endure?

She wasn’t going to beg him for a compliment. She still had her pride, even if it had taken a battering over the last few months.

Slipping her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm, she let herself be lead out of their rooms and through the castle corridors.

Leo seemed impatient to reach the banquet hall, obviously finding it frustrating that Violet could no longer walk at a nimble speed.

"Why such a great rush, husband? It’s not like the banquet won’t last for hours."

"I suppose so." he grumbled. "Especially if Duke Robert intends to lead the dancing again. The man has impressive energy for someone of his advanced age."

"Is he that old?" Violet was surprised. She’d been expecting someone youthful.

"Not as old as Father or Johan, but still old." Leo said snidely. "I’ve no idea why he’s got the pulse of every woman in this fucking castle, racing."

"Wait a moment, though. Why does everyone refer to him as only a duke? He’s a son of the previous king. So, shouldn’t we all be referring to him as a prince?"

Leo scrunched up his face as if it was all beyond his understanding as well. "Allegedly, the current King of Moraigth doesn’t like his younger brother referring to himself as a prince. It makes it sound too much like Duke Robert is the heir to the throne."

"Isn’t he though? The heir, I mean."

"Well yes. Until the king has a son of his own. But King Kenneth doesn’t seem to be having any luck making healthy boys, even with his second wife."

"Maybe the king just doesn’t come from fertile stock then." Violet suggested. "Some family lines are just weaker that way."

Leo sniggered. "His brother has sired plenty of them, though. So that can’t be the reason."

She said no more. Instead, she quietly marvelled that when Leo was sober and took the time to actually talk to her as an equal, the two of them could have a reasonable conversation.

It didn’t happen often though. She was sure her husband had been drunk more nights than he’d been sober during their short marriage.

She suspected Leo used his heavy drinking as a way to keep her at arms length. It was a way to stop himself from having to answer the questions he knew she wanted to ask.

Violet knew exactly why. There was so much unsaid between them and there probably always would be.

- - -

The banquet was well underway by the time the two of them reached the main hall. Most courtiers were dressed in dark green, which was supposed to be some form of honour towards the Moraigthian guest.

Violet didn’t mind at all that she stood out in bright blue and gold. She bowed to the king and queen in their gilded chairs, even though it cost her dearly to do it gracefully and remain smiling with an aching back.

King Edward nodded back absently. Yet again, Queen Celia looked at her as if she were the lowest of the low.

Such a bitch, that woman was.

Violet sighed quietly in relief when Leo led her to her own chair. Even though it wasn’t exactly comfortable, sitting was preferable to standing. She rubbed her belly proudly, to remind everyone that she carried the future of the Devon line within her and they’d better not forget it.

But when she was finally presented to the guest of honour, Violet found herself wishing she wasn’t so fat and swollen in front of by far the most dashing man she’d ever met.

There was no denying the Duke of Arlington was a strikingly handsome man. He was tall and broad shouldered, with auburn locks and a short beard.

It wasn’t just his looks that made her pulse beat a little faster, though. Violet had met many handsome men over the past year. Hell, she was married to one. But even Leo couldn’t hold a candle to the foreign duke’s intoxicating charm.

He smiled down at her politely. Violet wanted to clasp her hands together and squeal with delight.