💕 💕 💕
THE warm spring sun shone through the window, gently falling upon my cheek. I heard the faint shuffle of movement from the window to my bedside. It seemed Harold had arrived to wake me.
“A little longer,” I moaned, shifting my head on my pillow. “I think I was dreaming of Elizabeth…”
“Hehe, is that so?”
The bell-like voice was definitely not Harold’s. I leapt to my feet faster than I ever had.
“E-E-E-E-Elizabeth?!”
My wife curtsied. “Good morning, Prince Vincent. I’ve asked Lord Harold to allow me to perform your daily wake-up visits. I do hope I didn’t scare you.”
She held out a hand to me, offering to help me change. I could feel my cheeks flush as I frantically shook my head no.
“I-I can dress myself?”
“Is that so? I shall wait for you outside, then.”
She seemed to read the panic in my voice, but not the reason for it, as she thankfully left the room. My breathing was still rapid and strained, so I took one deep breath, then another. Partway through the third, however, I recalled that adorable chuckle she’d made earlier and sputtered and coughed with the newfound mental strain.
Still trying to catch my breath, I reached for the clothes Elizabeth had so generously laid out for me on the side of my bed. It was a simple jacket and matching breeches in a muted, comfortable color. I’d asked Harold for more mature clothing, as I was now a married man, and it seemed he did just that. I washed up and dressed, then took a few more deep breaths.
“Good gods,” I muttered, “being married is hell on my poor heart.”
The endless stream of weddings was finally at its end, and the two of us had returned to the palace. We’d both been freed of all duties and were told to take a while to relax. Sometime soon, however, we’d have to talk about a proper honeymoon. The thought had kept me awake late last night, but I never thought we’d be totally alone as early as the next morning.
With one last glance at the mirror to ensure I’d returned to my usual relaxed smile, I stepped outside.
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BY the time Elizabeth and I arrived at the dining room, Mother and Father were already seated there.
Elizabeth curtsied. “Good morning, Your Majesties.”
“Morning, Elizabeth,” Father replied with a curt nod.
“Good morning.” Mother smiled compassionately. “I hope you slept well.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Wait. Did Father just call her “Elizabeth”?
I shot him a questioning look, but he pretended to ignore me. Elizabeth chuckled calmly at the exchange.
“We will address you simply as Elizabeth henceforth,” Father declared imperiously. “You may, in turn, address us as Father and Mother.”
“Oh, how generous!” She dipped her head. “Thank you kindly, Father, Mother.”
Despite her addressing them as I did, I noticed both my parents casting smug looks in my direction.
It’s not normal to refer to your in-laws like that, is it? They’re trying to force her into getting closer to them, aren’t they?
I turned to my wife. “Can you call me Vincent from now on?”
“H-Huh?”
Her cheeks went strawberry pink in a heartbeat.
Did you see that, Father? See that, Mother? That’s how she reacts to the man she loves!
As I continued to jockey for position over my parents, Elizabeth’s fidgeting increased before she finally met my gaze again. I’d assumed she’d have no problem with it since she called me Vince when we were in disguise—and yet her mouth flapped open and shut, not a sound emerging. Apparently, my proper name held a different gravity than her pet name for me.
“V-V-Vin… Vin…” She sputtered and repeated herself like a broken music box. I couldn’t back down at this point, so I smiled and encouraged her. “V-Vince—”
“KISHAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”
Unfortunately, before Elizabeth could finish saying my name, Lars swooped in and flapped noisily in her face, cutting her off completely.
“Kweeeahh!! Kyagh! Kyayahhh!!”
From how frantically he was asking, I had to assume he wanted to be addressed without his title as well. Elizabeth didn’t seem to understand, however, offering a mild “What’s wrong, Lord Lars?” as she watched him, concerned.
“Can you nyot?” came Plum’s voice as it flew into the room. “It’s too early for this.”
While Elizabeth and I were on our wedding tour de force, Plum’s relationship with Mother had evolved quite a bit. Specifically…
“I heard that, Plum,” Mother replied poutily. “I knew it; you hate me after all, don’t you? Oh, my poor broken heart!”
“Nyah?! Th-That’s nyot it at all! I-It’s your country, so whatever makes mew happy…”
The two were close enough now that any conflicts resulted in that sort of mush. I’d also been pressuring Mother to see if anything else from her past risked rearing its head now. The last thing I needed was more trouble with powerful monsters or foreign nobility.
“I was in the garden!” the feline continued. “The squirrels told meow that there’s tons of bugs around nyow that it’s getting hotter.”
“Ah, I see. I’ll tell the gardeners to take care when they tend the flowers.”
They both moved on to new topics as Lars continued to throw tantrums. Plum had asked me earlier why Mother was so generous and kind to it, but I’d blown off its question in irritation. She’d never treated me with such kindness, after all. I felt I understood after seeing them now, however. Mother’s youth was quite turbulent. Even as an adult, she had to have been under immense pressure to marry. It must’ve been difficult to suppress her mana and emotions for so long. Father glared at the feline enviously even as it curled up in Mother’s lap.
“You can talk to animals?” I asked it.
“I am a monster,” Plum replied. “We can talk to most animals.”
“Wait… Does that mean you can talk to Lars?”
Plum scrunched up its furry face. “He doesn’t even try to talk. He’s just yowling. He is a powerful monster. And a dragon, so with enough manya he could talk to humans just like meow.”
“He what?” My eyes darted to Lars in surprise.
Finally, Lars picked himself up from where he was throwing a tantrum on the ground, now silent. He reared up on his back two legs, trundled over to Harold, and tugged on his pant leg. Harold, of course, readily complied. There was almost a sullen, guilty air to the little drake, particularly from the droop in his wings.
I suppose this means Lars and Plum won’t get along that well after all.