Fantasy Intertwining Kingdoms (Closed)

[Axty]

Archie’s breaths came in uneven waves as sleep twisted into something far more sinister. In his mind, he was trapped in darkness—paralyzed and vulnerable. The cold, invisible hands crawled across his body like shadows come alive, slithering up his chest, brushing his neck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream.


In the waking world, his body betrayed the storm within. His legs twitched. His fists clenched the pillow tighter. His jaw locked as a cold sweat broke across his brow.


“Stay away,” he whispered under his breath, barely audible at first—until it came again, louder this time, urgent and cracked.


“Stay away!”


He turned sharply in the chair, nearly toppling the cushion in his arms. The flickering candlelight did little to soften the haunted look etched across his face. His breaths were sharp now, shallow and panicked.


He wasn’t waking up. Not yet.


And unless someone reached for him, he might not on his own.

 

[freakie]

Once Florence had her fill she set the book down and looked towards the stairs. Something was amiss. It wouldn’t hurt to check? Or would it look strange? She pondered a while before she stood and walked slowly upstairs.

She didn’t wish to intrude or startle him so she gently opened the door inch by inch only to see his shadow still in the chair. She creeped inside and as she turned to see him she frowned.

How body and mumbles. It was twisted in his dream and she found it hard to hear it before she heard. Stay away it was something she had heard before. Men from war plagued by dreams. She breathed out before she knelt before him.

Hoping to comfort him in someway she gently touched his hands that gripped the pillow so tight. She began to hum a soft mellow tune that her mother used when she was plagued by dreams similar to his.

One hand gently entwined their fingers and the other went to his hair. To gently run her hand in a soothing motion to him “Archibald…”she whispered gently “you are safe…you must wake..”she was very careful of her tone.

Despite the man in front of her being harder from war and stronger than she believed he looked she wasn’t scared to be so close while he was in a state. If he woke and lashed out she could move back to avoid. But she hoped to gently wake him to keep him calm from within.

Dreams were not real. Espiecally for her.

 

[Axty]

Archie stirred, caught somewhere between dream and reality, the nightmare still lingering like smoke in his chest. But then—something else. A soft melody. A hum, delicate and warm, drifting through the air like sunlight bleeding through storm clouds.


It was her.


Florence.


The gentle tune seemed to push back the darkness, brushing away the shadowy hands that had haunted him moments before. He couldn’t place the song, but it felt... familiar. As if he'd heard it in a past life, or perhaps just needed to.


Then he felt her touch—light, careful. But still, it startled him.


He jolted slightly, shoulders stiffening, body tensing like a coiled spring. His breath caught in his throat, a flicker of fear dancing behind his eyes. For years, he'd flinched at unexpected contact, instinct burned into him like a brand. The kind of fear you didn't unlearn overnight.


But as his senses caught up to him and he looked up into her face—gentle, calm, undemanding—he felt something else bloom in her touch.


Warmth. Safety.


He let out a shaky breath.


“S-sorry,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Did I wake you? I... I would’ve warned you about the night terrors, but I didn’t think they’d come so soon.”


His eyes met hers, tired and ashamed. “I’m okay now, though. It’s just... sometimes they come back stronger when I let my guard down.”

 

[freakie]

Florence noticed he was still startled but as he moved and stirred she stayed the same. Her hand that had been in his raven like hair held his other hand. She watched carefully before she stopped humming as he seemed more aware of the surroundings.

The blonde shook her head “I was up before you. The chair doesn’t look comfortable. But I didn’t wish to wake you to get you to bed”she replied as she glanced at his eyes then his hands. “Do not apolagise. I have been up since dawn. I have eaten and read. I can get the servants to draw you a bath if you’d like?” She offered some.

She was doing as promised. But it mostly was from her own personal empathy. She knew this well.

“I sometimes get plagued with the same. My mother used to be the only one to console me. It is what we must bare. And we share those burdens now”. She slowly moved away to give him space.

This scene before her made her realise why he was so hesitant to sleep next to her. Why he was sos tricky on space. She respected the boundary more now than before “can I get you anything Archibald?”

 

[Axty]

Archie offered her a faint but genuine smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his tired eyes but carried gratitude all the same. His fingers gently squeezed hers in return, a silent thank you for staying by his side.


“Could you call me some breakfast?” he asked softly, voice still a little rough around the edges. “And… can I take the bed for a bit? My neck’s killing me, and I want to see if the bed’s as soft as it looks.”


He gave a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood with a trace of his usual charm. Slowly, he stood and stretched, wincing just a bit as the tension in his muscles protested.


“If it’s not, I’m holding you personally responsible, Princess,” he added with a playful flick of his brow, clearly teasing—but not ungratefully so.


He made his way toward the bed and sat on the edge first, testing it. Then, with a quiet sigh, he laid down, head sinking into the pillows like he’d just found a patch of heaven. His eyes fluttered closed again—not from sleep, but from a moment of much-needed peace.


“You’re too good to me already,” he mumbled, barely audible, as he let the warmth of the bed and the lingering hum of her song wrap around him like a blanket.

 

[freakie]

Florence stood once he spoke and she nodded. Ringing the bell they had in their room and as the servant scuttled up she requested his breakfast and some tea be brought to them. “For once we shall swap places” she sat in the chair he’d once slept in.

Watching him as he teased her she shook her head “how am I responsible? I did not make it myself”she joked back as she watched him and soon a knock was heard. The servant set his tray on the bed and her tea on the table beside the chair before leaving.

Watching him she smiled slightly “see it is the silk that lured you in. “ she poured herself a cup as she shook her head “will you rest again or will you try to rise?”she wondered. She didn’t have much to do here but she could busy herself.

Somewhere deep down she didn’t want to leave his side.

Maybe they could be closer than that.

 

[Axty]

“I’ll rise when I rise, simple as that,” Archie called out with mock grandeur, his voice muffled slightly as he peeked out from the bundle of blankets he had cocooned himself in. His hair was a tousled mess, one arm draped lazily over the edge of the bed as he stuck his tongue out at Florence with boyish mischief.


“You may be my wife, but a prince needs his beauty sleep,” he declared, dramatically flipping onto his side and pulling the covers up to his chin like a stubborn child refusing to get up for school. Only the faintest glint in his ocean-blue eyes gave away the act.


The once-stoic warrior prince now looked like a lounging cat basking in the warmth of morning light. “Besides,” he added with a smirk, “this bed might actually be magic. I’m starting to forgive the decorators for the rose petals.”


He peeked at her again, smile softening. “Unless, of course, you plan on dragging me out yourself.”

 

[freakie]

Florence leaned back in the chair as he spoke and she shook her head in disbelief “my it’s our first day together alone and you reveal your true nature”she chuckled somewhat. She couldn’t believe the contrast between before to now.

As he spoke she stood and moved the tray so he wouldn’t knock it off the bed by accident “hmm it did give me a good rest”she replied as she sat back down and rubbed her arm. Seeing him all curled up it was almost cute.

“Oh no. I know my place. Besides. I liked the rose petals” she stood slowly choosing to leave. It was clear that she had the more romantic side than he. And she didn’t mind for now. “Enjoy lazing my dear Prince” she fake bowed before leaving the room.

She walked down the steps again eager to explore their temporary home. Taking a small shall as she stepped out to the gardens to walk in the fresh air.

Back home she always found being inside made her feel cooped up. She preferred the wild and the cold air. The spring breeze and the summer rays. She trailed her hand over the bushes as she walked further from the home.

 

[Axty]

Archie slowly ate his breakfast, each bite unhurried, as if savoring more than just the food. The warmth of the eggs, the crispness of the bread, even the sweet tang of the fruit—it all felt oddly new to him. Not because he hadn’t eaten meals like this before, but because of how quiet it was. Peaceful. No generals barking orders, no urgent messages demanding his attention, no swordmasters yelling about his footing.

Just sunlight drifting lazily through tall windows and the soft rustle of the breeze against the manor curtains.

Simplicity.

It was strange, really, how foreign that felt.

Once his plate was cleared, Archie stood and gave his arms a stretch, rolling his shoulders until they gave a satisfying pop. Barefoot and dressed in his comfortable linen clothes, he wandered downstairs, curiosity beginning to pull at him. The manor—gifted, likely as a gesture from both nations—was large, too large for just two people. But it held an old-world charm: high archways, intricate woodwork, quiet halls filled with portraits and antiques.

He trailed his fingers along the edge of a table as he walked, letting his mind drift.

Was this really his life now? Sharing a home with a woman he barely knew, playing the part of a prince and husband—peaceful and proper—after so many years of war?

And yet, he didn’t hate it. Not yet.

He stopped in front of a tall window overlooking the garden, the faint scent of blooming lilacs drifting through the open pane.

 

[freakie]

Florence had found herself to the fountain that sat perfectly centred in the carefully laid garden. The smells surrounding her as he smiled big. She always felt at home outside or within her books. She breathed out and gently leaned to the flowers to smell them closer.

Her hair swayed with her as she walked again and slowly slipped her flats down from her feet and stepped into the fountain and lifted her dress skirt to sit and allow her feet to soak. She hummed as she felt the cool water. It was odd but they had no eyes on them. She didn’t know of her husband looking through the window.

Her guard was alert. Despite them being alone there could have still been whispered of their location and theirs lives at risk. He did not care for this prince. He found him snobby and entitled. But his princess was innocent. He followed round the home to the garden to keep his eye on her. Always on alert that maybe someone could go for her.

Florence didn’t know of her guards true intentions but she allowed herself to relax.

They had all the time in the world.

 

[Axty]

Archie, still weighed down by the remnants of sleep and a stiff neck, wandered out into the manor’s garden until he found a small hill nestled among the trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds. The grass was warm beneath him, kissed by the sun and just tall enough to brush against his fingers as he laid back, arms folded beneath his head.

Above him, the sky stretched endlessly, painted with tufts of clouds drifting lazily like ships across a sea of blue.

He blinked slowly, letting the silence wrap around him, and before he could stop himself, his thoughts pulled him back in time—to a simpler, gentler memory.

He and his mother used to lie just like this on the soft hill outside the palace gardens. It had been their secret escape, a pocket of peace carved out between lessons, speeches, and his father’s unrelenting expectations. They would play a game: who could spot the most interesting or silly-shaped cloud. One day it was a lion wearing a crown, the next a dragon curled into a spiral, and once—even though they both knew it was just a wisp—his mother swore she saw a goose with a monocle.

He smiled faintly at the memory, but the joy faded quickly into quiet sorrow.

She should have been there at the wedding, offering him last-minute advice, straightening his collar, tearing up during the vows. Instead, she was bedridden in the royal infirmary, too frail to even watch from afar. It hurt more than he let on.

 

[freakie]

Florence let herself be still. The sound of the water pumping through the fountain eased her mind before she glanced around some more. Not spotting the hill but rather his boots and she hummed to herself. He was rather quiet and she was not used to such men. The many noble ones of her court always indulged too much and remarked on things and made it rather clear. She would have to learn of him.

She slipped her feet out and slowly put on her flats again as she sat and watched. Her guard slowly approaching “much troubling your mind miss?”he asked and she glanced over “I am a wife yet it is…it is not..”she found it hard to explain “it’s another title. It’s not real. I don’t feel like one yet..”she admitted. There was only a few people from her homeland she trusted. And he was one of them.

The guard sighed “this is a new beginning for you both. Do not rush.”he advised “for a quick passion now may lead to distance in the future. Keep still princess. And let him work his way to you” he thought he heard something so he turned to the woodland. Florence listened but she still felt the weight of an impossible task “well..I see..”she stood “relax sir Luke. I doubt many know where we reside” she started to walk towards the hill.

She slowly approached and stood beside his laid out body “do you wish for company? Or to be alone?”she asked before she didn’t want to intrude on his space. She had shown last night under the spell of wine that she found him attractive. And he had no said much back. So she knew to keep herself sober for now to keep her thoughts aside.

It seemed they could be honest and themselves behind closed doors

But they still had their secrets.

 

[Axty]

He smiled—softly, a little sadly—but it was still a smile. One of those expressions that held more than it let on. His thoughts had been heavy, but her presence brought with it a kind of lightness, something grounding.

“I wouldn’t mind company at all,” he said, his voice mellow as he scooted over slightly to his right. The patch of grass was more than wide enough for two, but the small gesture of making space was intentional. A quiet invitation. A way of saying you’re welcome here without needing to say it outright.

He rested back on his elbows, glancing sideways at her. “So you were out here the entire time,” he mused, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little more. “I had wondered where you were planning to explore.”

There wasn’t any bitterness in his tone—just curiosity. It was nice, really, to find her here instead of wandering the stone corridors or locked away in another room.

The breeze swept through the garden again, carrying the faint scent of lilacs and fresh earth. Somewhere nearby, a bird chirped, and the wind rustled the tall grass like a whisper. It felt…normal. And that was strange in itself.

“You picked a good spot,” he added after a pause. “Quiet. Feels like it’s just us and the sky.”

 

[freakie]

Florence could tell she had interrupted something. Whether it’s a train of thought or a memory she nodded as he moved and slowly sat to lay beside him. Keeping her hands together over her midrift. She hadn’t cloud gazed for a while thinking back to when she was a child. She breathed in “I’m glad we wedded in spring”she commented softly. It wasn’t too warm or too cold and she liked the breeze.

Watching the ruffled white fly slowly through the blue canvas she didn’t notice his gaze on her as she listened “ah I must admit there’s a lot to learn about me. But. It’s till death do we part. You are stuck”she teased some as she almost smiled. “I wanted to find a good picnic spot.”she fiddled with her ring as she thought on it.

“shame that we can’t keep this house. Live here till we have to rule..”her voice quietened and trailed off towards the end as she got lost in thought to the newer ideas of what might happen. She tried to tell herself not to worry over it. They had six days left of peace and she wanted to enjoy it.

Finally after pondering her guards words she glanced at him. The sun hitting them like this felt nice as she relaxed more and touched the grass gently. “I had gardens like this back home. Remade for my sixteenth birthday..”

 

[Axty]

Archie tilted his head slightly toward her, his tone soft, almost cautious, as if worried he might be intruding. “What was that like?” he asked, referring to the gardens she had mentioned earlier. “Did you take care of them yourself?”

There was a genuine curiosity in his voice. Not the idle politeness of small talk, but the kind of question someone asks when they truly want to know you—not your title, not your nation, just… you.

He paused, giving her space to answer, but soon found his mind drifting back to his own memories, the way they always seemed to resurface when he least expected.

“For me, there weren’t that many plants to take care of at the castle,” he continued, “but there was this one hill…”

His eyes glazed slightly as he looked back up at the sky, as if it might paint the picture for him again.

“It was beautiful. Sitting at the top was this ancient cherry blossom tree—massive, with branches that spread out like arms, always gently swaying in the wind. In the spring, the petals would fall like snow, covering everything in soft pink. Around it was a ring of roses, all different colors—red, yellow, white… even a few rare blue ones. The gardeners said it was enchanted, but I think my mother just liked variety.”

He smiled, his voice warming with the memory. “Every year, on my birthday, we’d have lunch out there. Just me, my mother, and a small table set with all my favorite food. Nothing fancy, just… peaceful. She always made time for it, no matter what.”

His hand instinctively reached down and pulled at a blade of grass, rolling it between his fingers.

“I haven’t gone back there since the war started. Part of me’s afraid to see if it’s still standing… or if it’s been trampled over like everything else.”

He glanced over at her again, eyes searching hers gently. “But tell me more about yours. Your garden. Did you name any of the flowers?” he added with a light chuckle, trying to bring the mood back to something soft, shared—something alive.

 

[freakie]

Florence closed her eyes softly as she enjoying soaking in the nature. It always calmed her as she relaxed more and listened to him talk his voice always sounded like some long forgotten song to her yet she didn't let herself fall too deep into it. 'Hmm...more lavish than I admired at the time."She admitted since she knew it was not good to gloat on things. They had both been torn apart by the war.

When he spoke again it was nice to hear him talk more about his homeland. She opened her eyes as her body turned to lay facing him as she relaxed more and watched his face. She could tell this was something from his heart that he cherished. It was a bittersweet tale of his mother and she realised then she knew nothing of his parents. One hand idly touched the grass again, playing with it like strands of her as she tried to picture his words in her very head.

To lose something so sacred to him would be awful, she knew that maybe she should enquire about it when they were at the castle. A saved mental note for later.

When he turned to her she finally saw the smile "It seems like such a special place. Must of allowed you to be yourself with your mother.."She murmured some and smiled back "Some places hold magic only by the memories we have of them."She advised softly.

"It still stands...no tree but it was landscaped to be in the shape of our family jewels.."She chuckled softly "It wasn't to my choosing it was my mothers...we have not been close"She admitted some as she realised that she prefered the men in her family more. It may explain her deep nature to stand on her own feet. "But it was decorated with lanterns in the middle of the castle..small paved stones on the grass that lead to a small pond."

"My father always said that amythest could of been used better than to be put in jewellery but my mother insisted we all have something to match...an idea from my grandsire I assume."Her emerald eyes trailed over his features again.

"Forgive me for not asking sooner...your parents..."She bit her lip gently knowing she was trailing to something delicate "I know of your father...I knew that when It was announced to wed you. So you could be king...but your mother...?"

 

[Axty]

He continued to gaze up at the endless stretch of sky above, the clouds lazily drifting across the blue canvas. Lifting a hand, he reached toward the sun, letting its warmth soak his skin before slowly curling his fingers, as if trying to capture the light in his palm, only to snuff it out.

“They were both wonderful,” he said quietly, a heaviness settling in his voice. “My mother… my father… though for him, I suppose it’s more accurate to say he was wonderful. Past tense.”

A long pause stretched between them, the kind that made the air feel still, suspended in grief.

“He was just like a flower,” Archie murmured. “Brilliant. Delicate in ways people never noticed until it was too late. After all… the most precious flowers are the ones that get picked first.”

He took a breath, shallow and shaky. “His death was my fault.”

The words hung there like smoke—quiet, suffocating. He let them sit between them for a moment, letting the weight of them settle.

“I was young,” he finally continued, voice distant. “Too young to understand the true cost of war. All I knew was that I hated when he had to leave. Every time he rode off, part of me felt like it would never see him again. And one day, I let that fear turn into something reckless.”

His gaze fell to his hands—calloused, strong, yet trembling slightly at the memory.

“I snuck into a supply barrel. It was empty, and no one was paying attention… not really. My mother thought I was just being stubborn, that I was pouting in my room because I didn’t want to say goodbye. So when I didn’t come out to wave him off, she let it be.”

He gave a humorless chuckle, the sound more of a ghost than a laugh. “I stayed quiet all the way to the front lines. And when we arrived, I popped out like it was all just a grand game. My father…” Archie’s throat tightened. “He slapped me—harder than he ever had in his life. Not out of anger… out of fear.”

Archie’s voice cracked slightly, and he looked away from her, toward the horizon.

“They tried to keep me safe, putting me behind the wall of knights. But… one of their soldiers—an Aranthian, I think—slipped through. Just one. He must have known who I was. Maybe he thought killing a prince would end the fight before it even began.”

Archie slowly opened his collar and ran a finger across his chest where the scar lay hidden. “He slashed me. I still have the scar… runs right here,” he said, motioning just below his heart.

“My scream—it was loud, loud enough to reach my father over the noise of war. I remember his face. Pure panic. He ran. He ran faster than I’ve ever seen him move. And then—just like that—he was gone.”

He blinked slowly, as if trying to hold back the image, but it always returned.

“He took the blade meant for me. Right to the heart.”

Archie’s voice had gone barely above a whisper now, but it was the kind of whisper that echoed. “He died in my arms. His blood on my hands, staining my clothes, seeping into the dirt beneath us.”

He fell quiet, his jaw clenched, trying to compose himself.

 

[freakie]

The blonde knew that this was going to be tough, but she wanted to understand how she could support him and she almost needed to know.

She glanced at her hand as she listened and then her gaze followed his hand to the sun and she breathed out before she decided to offer some comfort of his talk. She let her other hand very gently graze his that was closest. Offering it there incase he wanted to hold it.

"A flower.."She murmured softly and half smiled as he spoke, it reminded her of the way she looked back at Nero. He was a thorn in her side half the time but as deep as a rose. It was surprising how similar they could be. As he spoke of him managing to go to the front lines her eyes widended "You were just a boy you didn't know better..."She felt his sorrow. She was a greatly empathetic woman and it was how she could navigate these diffcult talks.

Her eyes trailed to the scar and she breathed out some thinking on it as he said the last part "I am sorry...I didn't mean for you to relive this pain."She slowly sat up as she breathed out some "But I feel your loss...I just wasn't there to witness his.."

She realised his heart being so open to her she knew she had to return the favour.

"You know of my parents...at the wedding. It was the first time my mother has worn something other than black for years.."She admitted "I had a brother, his name was Nero.."

 

[Axty]

“Had?” Archie repeated, his voice low and almost hesitant, as if the word itself had brushed against something delicate. He slowly pushed himself up from where he sat, the soft rustling of grass beneath him the only sound as the breeze stilled. His blue eyes, still touched with the quiet sorrow of his earlier confession, now searched Florence’s face for answers. There was a subtle shift in her expression—something flickering just beneath the surface—and in that moment, Archie recognized the familiar shadow of loss. This wasn’t just his pain, his tragedy. She had ghosts too.

He hadn’t expected to find common ground so quickly, not in something so raw. All this time, he had seen her as a stranger bound to him by duty and politics, not someone who might know the same ache that had haunted him for years. The name she had uttered, “Nero,” lingered in his mind like a fragile thread waiting to be pulled. The way she said it, the softness, the past tense—it all struck him harder than he thought it would. Carefully, as if afraid his voice might break the moment, he asked, “Nero… what was he like?”

There was genuine interest in the question, but also something deeper—something vulnerable. Archie wasn’t just asking to be polite. He wanted to know. He wanted to understand the pieces of Florence that weren’t just royal titles and silk dresses. If she was going to be his wife, then maybe—just maybe—they could start by sharing the burdens neither of them had ever truly laid down. And maybe, through grief and honesty, something real could begin to bloom between them.

 

[freakie]

Florence heard him sit up with her and she tensed some, her body tight as if she was struggling to let go off such. Her eyes stayed forward as if she was scared to look at him, but it was not because of him. She had not yet cried in front of this man and it was scary to be so open. But she must. She breathed out a little shaky as her brothers face became clear in her mind again.

"We were inseperable.."She replied quietly "Through good and bad..we were raised differently of course but that did not prevent us...or me from causing mischief."She almost smiled as she remembered the trouble they would get into. "He was older...braver and the crown Prince...I was naive to think it would remain the same forever. That I could have time before being wed. To find a love match...I was full of dreams. Before the war..."

"Trully it did not affect us. My father sent trained men...and many small folk that got roped in. It did not matter to him that he was tearing families apart..women and children fending for scraps. I did not see it at first.."She glanced at her dress and then to the sky once more. "I would...sneak off. I wanted to explore the real world. The Matron would of whipped me if she found me but thankfully he did. And as much as he was cross he was impressed. He taught me a new way...that I was stronger somehow as a woman."

Her eyes became glossy as she recalled it all "One night...he was quiet and I wasn't sure why. He broke the news he would be enlisted and I pleaded with him...and father to not send him to the front. To keep him as more a general. But it was too late. His letters stopped coming weeks after...and on one of the wagons of the dead lay his sword. The very one he used to teach me to defend myself.."She breathed out and a tear finally seeped past despite the fact she was willing it not to.

"It still feels like hes watching over...but it also still feels like Ive lost something I was owed...a part of me somewhere went with him"

 

[Axty]

Archie tilted his head slightly as Florence began to speak, his eyes focused intently on her as if each word she shared painted a clearer picture of the person she had lost. Her voice carried that quiet ache—one he had grown all too familiar with—and though the names were different, the grief they bore felt hauntingly similar. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless words of comfort. Instead, he let her speak, let her mourn in the space between her sentences, and offered his presence as a silent reassurance that she was being heard.

As her story unfolded, Archie found himself imagining this “Nero”—the way he might’ve smiled, the warmth of his presence in Florence’s life, the hollow left behind in his absence. Pain always left its mark, and it didn’t discriminate between kingdoms or bloodlines. For the first time since this marriage was arranged, Archie felt something stir in his chest—a sense of closeness that wasn’t forged from obligation, but mutual understanding. Perhaps this was what healing looked like, in its earliest form: two wounded souls, speaking softly into each other’s quiet.

He shifted a little closer, the grass crunching gently beneath him. His arms moved subtly, not with force or expectation, but with quiet openness. “Can I get a hug?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. There was no pressure in the request, just a yearning—an offering of comfort, and a small, hopeful gesture that maybe, in this moment, neither of them had to be strong alone.

 

[freakie]

Florence enjoyed the silentness of his comfort. She had not spoken about it outloud for a long time since her family couldn't bare it. She slowly wiped her face as she sniffled and blinked a few times to regain composure. Being careful as she heard him move slightly and glanced back at him before looking down.

"A hug.."She hummed before she slowly nodded some as she moved closer the way they were sat up she ended up sort of hugging into his chest. Her head tucked under his chin as she made sure to bury close. This man had to be good in order to offer such to her. She hadn't been hugged since she was a child and she wondered if he had been hugged for a while before.

"As much as I did not chose this. I try to take comfort that my people back home..can start to heal and rebuild. And despite all thats happened...your people too"She had never shared her feelings about his people before. She hated them when he was taken from her but soon recovered.

She closed her eyes and breathing in the smell of roses again, their height difference allowing this to be comfortable for her. She relaxed more as she gently gripped his shirt. Being gentle to not hurt his skin she simply felt that she had to be close to him to calm down.

 

[Axty]

Archie leaned into the hug slowly, as if afraid it might shatter the second he gave in to it. His movements were careful, deliberate—arms gently wrapping around Florence like he was holding something fragile. And in many ways, he was. Not just her, but the moment itself. It had been years since he let someone touch him like this, years since he’d allowed another soul to bridge the quiet fortress he had built around his heart. The only person who had ever been allowed to do so after that day was his mother—and even she, once vibrant and strong, had grown too frail to offer the same comfort. So now, holding Florence, his wife and yet a stranger, he found something that felt terrifyingly unfamiliar: peace.


There was something grounding in the way she held him, not with force or expectation, but with understanding. Her warmth bled into his skin, and her steady presence calmed the remnants of his nightmare like a tide washing away the debris on a storm-wrecked shore. He hadn't realized just how much he craved human connection until it was pressed against him, breathing softly, heart steady. It was startling—how naturally she fit in his arms, how easily her presence quieted the thoughts that usually haunted him in the stillness. For the first time in a long while, Archie didn’t feel like a prince or a weapon, or even a broken boy pretending to be whole. He just felt… human.


He closed his eyes, allowing the weight he carried to settle between them, no longer needing to bear it alone. He hadn’t meant to share so much, not so soon—but there was something about Florence that invited truth, even the ugly parts of it. Maybe it was the grief she wore in her eyes, the loss they both carried in their bones, or maybe it was the quiet kindness she had shown him since the ceremony. Whatever it was, Archie didn’t question it. In her embrace, he let his walls lower, just slightly, just enough to feel. And for now, that was enough.

 

[freakie]

Florenece didn't dare to disturb the peace she felt. She remained still only shifting when he moved slightly so that he would be comfortable. The small thumping of his heart is how she calmed down. Her breathing starting to sync with his as she enjoyed this. To have a man be so vulnerable with her she hoped to be a good sign that they could have some happiness in all this mystery forced upon them.

(Skip to dinner)

After the day of being relaxed around each other Florence was excited to just dine. She sat down and relaxed some as they were served food. She was sat across from were he was expected to sit. Her guard stood behind her before Flo turned to him "Thank you Luke...I do not need you here right this moment" She dismissed before he nodded. He couldn't portray his emotions but he walked outside to guard the main entrance.

Florence hummed as she was served wine and the food sat on the table "Where is my husband?"She joked to herself as she tried to get used to the idea that it was him. "Archibald! I cannot eat without you!"She went to the bottom of the stairs. After their picnic they had allowed some quiet time alone. But she must admit she had missed him in doing so.

 

[Axty]

Archie arrived not long after, his footsteps quiet but steady as he made his way into the room. His expression was more relaxed than usual, though there was still a trace of fatigue lingering in the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Spotting Florence already seated, he offered her a small nod before making his way to the seat placed across from her—the one clearly intended for him.

Lowering himself into the chair, he let out a soft exhale, as if finally allowing himself a brief moment to breathe. His gaze met hers, calm and curious, tinted with the slightest bit of playful suspicion.

“Hey, Florence,” he said softly, his tone more personal than formal. “Did you dismiss everyone already? It’s just us in here?” The question hung in the air, not accusatory, but instead hopeful—hinting that he was ready, maybe even craving, another quiet moment shared between the two of them without the presence of advisors or the weight of their titles.