How Peter Won Ellen // Lindensea 2

III

Warning: sexual references and consent negotiation in this chapter

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Ellen," said King Peter, bowing before her. "Your stepmother thought it might be a good idea for us to speak informally together, without all that official nonsense getting in the way. May I sit down here?"

Ellen nodded, rather curtly, so Peter sat on the heavy wooden chair next to her, grateful for the furs thrown over it, and the warmth of the fire near them. It was another chilly autumn day in Everwick, and tomorrow would be Winter's Eve.

Nobody spoke, until Ellen at last asked, "Why?" She hurled the question at Peter as if it were a weapon.

"Why do I want to marry you? Well, it's because you cut my foot off, you see."

"That's the oddest reason for marrying someone I ever heard," Ellen retorted.

"And when you took off your helmet to give me a piece of your mind, your eyes were so bright and your cheeks so flushed, and your hair looked so golden, like a field of ripe wheat, that my heart was struck as if by a lightning bolt," went on Peter.

Ellen tried not to flush again, and failed quite dismally.

"I thought I had delivered you a crushing blow," she said in a low voice. "I thought you would slink away after being injured."

"A king doesn't need a foot to rule," said Peter cheerfully. "Only a head, to wear the crown, you see. Now, if you'd cut that off, it would've been a different story."

"Doesn't it hurt?" asked Ellen.

"It does, rather," Peter admitted. "But I expect I'll get used to it, and your excellent Everwick craftsmen have made me a new foot out of iron, so I can walk. They do wonderful metalwork in this kingdom, I've noticed. Quite exquisite." His hand went to his pocket in an unconscious gesture.

"Then I'm sorry," said Ellen stiffly, "for I've caused you lifelong pain, and made you want to marry me."

"It's even worse than that," said Peter with a sly smile. "We were losing the battle, and I was close to surrendering until I saw you. You are single-handedly responsible for the defeat of Everwick, and I'm afraid you must pay the penalty."

Ellen looked stricken, and Peter asked, "Is it such a terrible thing to have to marry me? I've been told I'm one of the more eligible kings of Europe since I inherited the throne of Lindensea from my Uncle Gerald. Got quite a good write up from the chroniclers."

"It's just ... being forced into it," said Ellen bitterly. "As if I'm a piece of livestock you saw in the market. Now I must have a halter put over my head so you can drive me home with a stick."

"Hey, that's a bit dramatic," said Peter in alarm. "I don't want to force you into anything. I was vain enough to think you might rather like the thought of being Queen of Lindensea."

"The things they say about the women of Lindensea!" Ellen muttered.

"And what do they say about the women of Lindensea?" asked Peter, genuinely baffled.

"That ... that they think about nothing but clothes and parties, like empty-headed little dolls," said Ellen reluctantly. "And that a Lindensea wife must kneel and bow before her husband, and call him master, and be subject to him in all things."

Peter roared with laughter, until he was actually wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"For the first part, it's not just women – people in Lindensea, both gentlemen and ladies, do seem to care a lot about dressing up and going to parties," he admitted. "It's not all they think about. We have many ladies in Lindensea who are wits and intellects, scholars and writers, artists and philosophers. Not empty-headed at all."