p r i n c e l y.

She’d seen photographs of him on multiple occasions. Her mother had made sure she’d approved of him on a physical appearance first and foremost. Hilariously enough, her mother cared whether or not Henry was pretty enough to carry on the line, not whether he could politically steer the country. Her brother had been hellbent on carrying out their father’s plan for Alexandra, and that was to make her the duchess of one of the most profitable provinces in the country, to keep them as an ally to the crown. Whatever Edward wanted, Alexandra agreed too. She trusted him to make proper decisions. But looking at the man now, she had that sick feeling in her stomach. This was the man who was going to decide her fate from now on… not Edward, and not her father. She was being passed off from one man to another, having her life decided for her. Soon, she’d be nothing but a baby maker, then a mother. And that was when her life would just carry itself out, with no choice or excitement.

He stood like a duke, exactly as one would be. She smiled as if on command and gave herself the momentum to step forward to extend her hand. This would have been the moment for her to have the perfect response prepared, but nothing came to mind. All she could do was look at the man who was going to take the wheel and direct her life in whatever direction he wanted. “So,” she began with a small sigh. “What do you want to know about me? I’d like to learn about you. Other than what my brother’s said, of course.”

Meeting the woman who would soon be his wife felt no different than meeting any other important person did. He hadn’t exactly expected anything special, of course -- fiireworks and love at first sight were the things that fairy tales were built on, not political matches made with the intent of securing power. Still, he hadn’t expected it to be so awkward and anti-climatic. He felt as if he was being interviewed for a position rather than meeting the woman with whom he’d shared the rest of his life, but he supposed that the metaphor was appropriate. In many ways, this was little more than a job interview, gauging if he was fit enough to fill just another role in life. Henry would’ve complained if he thought it would make a difference, but it wouldn’t have and this was not something he was unaccustomed to. 

“Henry Westmore,” he said taking her hand firmly in his. “But you already know that, I’m sure.” He motioned with his free hand to a couch. “I find that conversations are usually easier when you’re comfortable. I suppose we should start with the basics: your favorite color, what you like, how you feel about being a Duchess.” 

Alexandra hadn’t wanted to be married so soon, but Edward insisted. Edward always insisted, and she dutifully answered as the younger sister of a monarch should do so. She’d spend forty-five minutes arguing with their mother, and finally she signed the papers assuring that she would go through with the marriage for her brother’s sake. Taking a deep breath, she checked the mirror before she stepped out into the hallway.

Henry was to be waiting for her in one of the parlors her mother kept for visitors. Lex didn’t really much care for entertaining company. If anything, she preferred to spend her time alone. That’s how most of her time was spent anyway, outside of her responsibilities of being visible to the public. The news of her engagement had broken before she’d even formally met her husband-to-be.

Her legs would barely take her through the hallway, wanting nothing more than to stall the encounter. Finally she had the doors opened for her as she walked into the large, somewhat tacky parlor and found the man standing alone, waiting for her. Her presence was announced, and she forced the smile onto her face. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Henry.”

Henry stood as Alexandra’s presence was announced. He felt as if he’d been sitting in this parlor for decades, though not even a half an hour could have passed. He straightened his back, forced his shoulders to relax, and offered a smile in response to hers. He’d been preparing for this since he was a child -- a Duke needed to know how to carry himself if he was to be of any influence. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“If anything happens to him, I swear to the gods… Please do not publicize anything until I arrive.” She was pulled away by her own security detail. “I’m not changing anything. I want a car now, and I will follow him to the hospital. I’m not waiting for anything.” She had a whole new level of rage in her voice, something she’d never experienced before. Even Edward’s death hadn’t brought anger, it brought pain and sorrow. Someone wanted her husband dead, and that was unacceptable. He may have been an insufferable ass, but he was hers, her insufferable asshole.

All Henry wanted was to close his eyes. Not permanently, as they worried, but just for a few moments. A few seconds of quiet and he’d be fine. Good as new. After all, he’d only taken a bullet to the shoulder. He was more or less certain that he’d live and if he didn’t... Well, he didn’t really have time to worry about that now. 

“Victor never stood a chance,” he muttered, closing his eyes against the sudden wash of pain. The noise and panic levels in the room did very little to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes and the constant throbbing radiating out of his shoulder. “Get me out of here.”

Then it happened far too fast. A woman screamed, a shot fired, and Lex whipped around just in time to feel Henry push her out of the way. Blood splatted on her shoulder up to her face, and her heart raced. “Henry!” she screamed, wrapping her arms around him as he sunk to the floor. The bullet had hit his shoulder, almost in line with her head. The guard swarmed immediately, and the gunman was both shot and disarmed.

Screams filled the ballroom, but Lex had no idea. Her direct focus was on her husband, now bleeding in her arms. Everything happened in slow motion, and the pair fell to the ground. The guard surrounded them, trying to pull her away. “Henry,” she breathed, trying to help him in anyway she could. “Henry, it’s going to be okay.” Her heart was in her throat. He couldn’t die, that was out of the question. “Henry, what did you do?” It should have been her who’d taken the bullet, not him. “Henry, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when he heard a woman in front of them scream and a shot ring out. There was no time to think, barely any time to move out of the way, so Henry did the next best thing - he pushed his wife away roughly. At first, there was nothing. Just chaos and a strange emptiness before he crumpled to the ground. A few seconds later, though, it felt as if he was being burned alive, the pain radiating out of his shoulder.

He felt oddly disconnected from the situation. It was clear he’d been shot - there was a wound in his shoulder and blood splattered across his suit. Some part of his brain was annoyed at that. He’d only just gotten this suit made and it had fit so well. It was also clear that no one truly knew what was happening. "I’m fine,” he muttered, making a move to push his wife back again. “I’m fine.”

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed as she watched Henry. She knew exactly what he was up to, and it work flawlessly. In less than five seconds, he’d made her so flaming angry she could have thrown her glass across the room. But no, he wouldn’t get that rise out of her this time. She set her glass down and let the death grip on her dress go as she walked toward her husband. The lady in question he was speaking to saw the queen immediately. “Henry, my love,” she called, smiling as he turned to face her.

He knew exactly what to do to make her angry, and she was rather tired of it. The young lady darted out of the way, and Lex let her eyes follow her before returning to her husband. She stepped close and took a hold of his suit jacket, pulling him close. With a smile on her face and a hushed tone, she looked up at him. “Why must you insist on infuriating me every chance you have when we’re in public together? You’re acting like a child, Henry. I’m very much tired of it.”

He had just thought up an excuse when he heard his wife’s voice. Smiling, he turned to face her. “Sweetheart,” he responded, allowing himself to be pulled closer, the grin growing as he watched the woman slither away from the apparently vengeful Queen. “Pleasant night, isn’t it? I was just talking to Lady whatshername about that new designer.” He shrugged, leaning in close, voice dropping. “Is that jealousy you’re wearing tonight, my Queen Wife?”

She leaned up and gave him a small kiss and a smile. “Give me just one night and I’ll leave you alone for the next month. How does that sound? Compromise enough?”

There was something about getting under his wife’s skin that brought him a sort of pleasure. She played along so well. “One night for an entire month of freedom? Of course. Now, where should we begin?”