𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 || 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐿𝑋𝑋𝑋𝑉𝐼𝐼

~To Love is to Burn~

She dismissed Martha and Alice for the night as soon as she returned to her chambers, nerves tying her stomach in knots, so much so she knew she wouldn't be able to bear being touched or spoken to by anyone.

Not unless it was Richard.

And so she struggled with the laces of her gown and kirtle alone, slid the pins from her hennin, putting it aside, and selected a nightgown from the coffer at the end of her bed. She shivered when she put it on, out of excitement and a twinge of fear. Would he wish to see her naked? The only man to ever see her so had been Edward and he'd known her first when she was younger....

Shaking her head, she walked quickly to the dressing table, sitting down and grasping an ivory comb from the polished wood surface. With a shaking hand, she drew it through her hair, one stroke, two strokes, three strokes, four, until not one strand was out of place and it flowed in a river down her back. She was glad she had bathed that morning, the scent of jasmine clung to the dark brown waves and her skin was soft.

Placing down the comb, she reached for a crystal bottle a little further away and dabbed the rose scented oil on her neck and wrists, trying with all she had not to drop it; placing it down quickly so she did not.

She looked into the mirror, examining every inch of her reflection, leaning closer and running a hand over her left cheek, tilting her head from side to side. The dark circles under her eyes had not yet fully recovered and she had a few lines here and there from a combination of age, grief and stress but she was still pretty enough she supposed, at least, she hoped, pretty enough for Richard.

The green of her eyes was still lovely, her skin unblemished and not sallow and her figure was still lithe. Perhaps she would do?

Leaning on the table before her, arms bent at the elbows, hands resting on her forehead, she closed her eyes.

"Calm yourself" She hissed, feeling her right leg begin to bob up and down at an uncontrollable pace, nails digging into her palms "He wants you. He told you so himself! And I want him!" He would not be perfect either, she said to herself, he was a seasoned warrior and the past year had taken it toll but he was perfect to her, she knew that, she wanted him as he was and no other way! Did he feel thus of her?

She was over half a decade older than him but she was not ancient! Or she did not think she was....

And what if they were caught? The dowager Queen in the arms of her brother in law? If she ever wished to marry again she would have to ask her son's permission - permission he may not give - and for she and Richard to be seen in one another's arms outside of wedlock, well, the consequences would be catastrophic for more than they.