A Pleasing Bride

Alright readers, I've had this story stuck in my head for a while now, but it's kind of a historical piece and I fear it was a little out of my grasp. I tried to aim the time frame around the 1500s-1600s, but really I was focused more on the romantic aspect and not the historically accurate details. The one thing I did research was the female attire. In case it helps with your visualizations while reading, I'll share. As near as I can figure the ladies wore gowns, then kirtles, and then a chemise. Chemises were longer and less revealing back then compared to the later periods and the pantalets were just coming on the seen along with corsets. For my female lead, she forgoes the pantalets (which were optional back then) and wears a corset (which weren't very popular yet either, but that fact adds depth to the story in my opinion). Like I said though, this is a new one for me and my knowledge of all things Renaissance is severely lacking. If I ever write a historical thing again I'll do more research, but for now, I want to get the story out before I forget it.

Comments and feedback are always welcome and thanks for reading!

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The Prince sighed as he looked up the flight of stairs leading to his personal chamber. He was filled with equal parts fatigue and excitement as he glared at the steps whose number seemed larger than the day prior. He knew atop those stairs his new wife was waiting for him and the thrill of consummating their union made the journey to his bed worth the trek. With a smile on his nervous face, he made the journey happily.

At the time, the kingdom had been on the edge of war and the bride waiting for him was the cure to the feud of two lands. Some dispute about trade routes had caused tempers to flare amongst men and it had appeared nothing but some honest bartering would fix the matter. The King of the neighboring land gave his pride and joy to the Prince to gain the access to all the trade routes he had previous been denied and now all was settled. There was a promise of peace between the two realms and the threat of war was over.

For the Prince, however, there was a new sort of challenge in store. He had never met his bride. He quickly dismissed the servants from the entry to his chambers and made his way towards his bedroom. Nervous, he kept his eyes mostly to the floor and walked slowly. The thought of these walls, this furniture, he'd grown up with now belonging in tandem to him and his bride was a pleasant thought. He smiled, knowing he'd easily be persuaded to change anything to suit his bride should she require it.

The Prince caught sight of her dress and froze. She was standing at the window, probably looking over the kingdom that would soon be theirs, and he knew as soon as he lifted his eyes to her that things would never be the same. There was a fear in his belly, mocking the Prince for all his faults, convincing him that his bride wouldn't enjoy the sight of him or his company. He strained to fight the fear, desperately holding on to the unsaid promise of his devotion. He took in the contrast between the dark wood floors and the bright white hem of her dress. His eyes rose to her legs and then her hips, traveling north to see her bosom and her face. Something was wrong.

When the wedding had been arranged, the Prince was promised that his future bride was amazingly beautiful and that the task ahead would not only be easy, but enjoyable. He was told in length of her feminine curves, her graceful mannerisms, and her purity. The Prince suddenly became aware of where his thoughts had been left to stray with no specific details about her figure to cement them to any sort of truth. Yes, her eyes were an exquisite shade of green and her lips were pleasantly full and inviting, but she wasn't what he had pictured.

It all made sense the Prince now. Throughout the entire ceremony he was distracted. He had been annoyed by the many witnesses throwing flower petals at him and shouting. More often than not, he found himself spending more of his time trying to cease such distractions than actually looking at the bride that stood at the alter with him. She wasn't even present for the reception, the Prince having been told that she was preparing herself for him. His temper flared as he realized everyone had done this to him with the specific purpose of hiding his plus sized bride.

His eyes ate her up with an honest interest, far more angry with the need for foolery than with the appearance of his wife. The Prince was not without an intimate knowledge of the female anatomy having pleased a number of ladies before his bride, but she was different. Previous ladies had hips, but none larger than his. The hips on his bride were full and he figured them to be a about an inche wider than his own on each side. There were her breasts, too. A generous bosom that seemed much larger in comparison with what he'd had experience with. The Prince quickly came to terms with her appearance the longer he looked. True, his bride might be more of a challenge to lift, but everything his eyes touched looked soft. If nothing else, her body was a beautiful contrast to his own.

Meanwhile, the bride before him watched, terrified, as her husband surveyed his lifelong companion. The Prince was a fine man, one any woman would consider herself lucky to obtain despite his wealth. He looked strong, but currently his brow was furled in questioning. She couldn't stop the quivering of her bottom lip as the emotions flooded over her. His bride was well aware that he had been tricked and was hopelessly entangled in the rouse that led to their coupling.

She sank to her knees, no longer able to handle his gaze upon her. "Forgive me, my Prince. I'm so sorry," she wept into her hands.

The Prince shook himself of his thoughts and was completely startled. At twenty-three years of age, the Prince had spoken to, kissed, and fondled enough women to give him a false sense of security, but never had he seen a woman crumble to tears in front of him. Needless to say, he was at a loss. He watched paralyzed as she cried, frantically thinking of what he had done and how he could get her to stop.

She stole a look up at him to see his face crumpled in what she though must be disgust and it brought a fresh wave of tears. She shook among the lace and silk that had so cleverly been sewn together. She tried to speak, but her sobs caused a slight hiccup in her throat that made it difficult. After several failed attempts she completely crumbled among her wedding dress, hiding as much of herself as she could from him out of humiliation.

"Please don't cry," the Prince begged. His voice was soft as he knelt beside her. His bride was a stranger and he had little idea as to what sort of comforting she would welcome and what would frighten her more. He had heard stories and warning about what a woman's wedding night is like. The Prince had never been with a pure woman and from what he understood, the taking such purity could be rather painful. He could reason no actions that could lessen the fear she was experiencing and felt helpless for her.

His bride looked up suddenly and swallowed the hitch in her throat. "I know they tricked you and I know that you're angry, but I beg of you, please do not reject me. I ask you for this one night that I may be a wife to you and that's it." Her words sped up, seemingly rushed before the next set of tears would fall. "I will stay dutifully yours and will turn a blind eye to any other woman whom you may seek comfort with. But please, your highness, my reputation will be ruined, as well as that of my homeland, should you not lie with me tonight."

"Ma'am, please slow down. It is late in hour and understanding escapes me." The Prince could feel his heart breaking for her. He knew all too well the pressure he had been under concerning the marriage and understood her fears better now.

His bride looked up with a horrified expression, "Ma'am?" she questioned, obviously appalled with his choice of words.

"Forgive me!" he quickly corrected. "Wife, please? Come sit on the bed with me and we'll work all this out." The Prince was at her side in a moment, trying desperately to stop the tears. He couldn't have the advisors coming in the morning and seeing clean sheets but a tear stained floor. That would only bring trouble for both him and his bride.

He helped her to her feet, surprised when her legs gave way halfway to the bed. The Prince picked her up, mentally noting that he could indeed lift her without a struggle. He took the last few steps over to the bed and gently sat her down. Her face looked especially pale for her having just been crying and her skin was far too cold. Alarm flooded over him as he recognized her symptoms. This special kind of fatigue he had seen while visiting the more rural parts of his kingdom. He thought it peculiar that his bride, coming from a wealthy kingdom, would show the same symptoms of the starving beggars outside the castle walls.

"My bride, when was the last time you've eaten?" he questioned.

"I had to fit into the dress, your highness," she continued to cry into her hands. She couldn't handle much more embarrassment. "They wouldn't let me eat because I couldn't fit into the dress."

Furious, the Prince rose to his feet, quickly running towards the door to summon a servant. His bride waited on the bed, curious as to how he would ask for food. She smiled as he ordered a plate of strawberries and cheese to be sent up immediately so he could make sure his bride was 'nourished enough to sustain much exercise'. She saw the sultry smile he was wearing as the servant presented him the plate. She saw it fade as he turned back to her, a look of concern taking its place.

"I hope this is alright. I was trying to order something romantic enough to keep up appearances," the Prince gave a sheepish smile and handed the plate over to his bride.

"Thank you," her voice was little more than a whisper. "I greatly appreciate it, your highness, but I cannot eat this."

"Why? Does it not agree with you? Do you not like it?" he panicked, taking the plate from her to further inspect the quality of the food.

She gave a wry laugh and toyed with her hands in her lap. Her voice was calm but sad as she spoke. "I do not wish to be known as a gluttonous bride. I imagine there are already rumors spreading through your kingdom concerning the cow that the Prince has just married."

The Price looked at the woman beside him. Her golden hair was braided with white lace and toppled down among her shoulders. Those incredible eyes of hers were downcast and still heavy with tears but he was almost entranced by their beauty. He watched as she struggled to regain he breath, her chest heaving erratically in the process. Among his things, in his bed, she fit. She was no doubt perceptive to the needs of a kingdom and the agony she was putting herself through made it evident that she cared about her husband. He looked at her and smiled, knowing that despite not looking as he expected, she would make an excellent wife and a powerful queen.

"Fine," the Prince playfully mocked catching his bride off guard. "If you won't eat it on your own, then I'll just have to feed it to you." He picked up a strawberry and brought it to her lips.

Her curious eyes looked deep into his, and he smiled completely as she opened her mouth for him. The tip of the strawberry disappeared behind her full lips and the Prince traced the fresh juice along them before replacing the remainder of the strawberry on the plate. The simple act of feeding her had much more of an effect on him than he had imagined and he was beginning to look forward to the privilege of many more instances to come.

His smile never faded as he leaned back on the bed, lying beside where his wife was sitting with only the plate of food between them. Those brilliant green eyes of hers followed his every move with peeked interest as to why he was smiling.

"I wish to talk to you," he simply stated. "I will make you my wife tonight, but not before I understand all that has conspired."

She swallowed and licked the remaining strawberry juice from her lips. "What do you wish to know, your highness?"

The Prince kicked off his shoes and wiggled among the covers on the bed to remove his coat. He took a pillow from the head of the bed and propped it up under his neck so he could comfortably look at his wife while they spoke. He locked gaze with her again and smiled, realizing that he was already growing found of her.

"Why was I tricked?" the Prince asked flatly, seemingly holding no grudge towards his bride.

"Its common knowledge that I was never quiet favored within the walls of my kingdom. My father's advisor thought the situation was perfect." She sighed and twirled a bit of ribbon between her fingers, her contentment with the situation obvious to her husband. "My father would gain access to the best trade routes and rid himself of his ugly daughter in the process. You were tricked to make sure that by the time you saw me, it would be too late to recant the agreement between our lands."

"So those horrible people at out ceremony who kept throwing flowers at me and shouting, they were servants of your father?" he paused to note her nod in agreement. "And when they said you were making yourself ready for me?"

"I was being hidden," she answered, a defeated expression coming over her face.

The Prince felt grief for his wife. She wasn't ugly and she in no way resembled a cow, but she accepted the titles as if there were no choice. He imagined how he might feel if the tables were turned and immediately became sick to his stomach. His poor wife had lived her entire life with the thought that she was a disappointment, a blemish to the appearance of her father's kingdom.

"Your highness?" her timid voice interrupted his thoughts. "If I may make a request?"

"Anything," he instantly replied, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"My corset really doesn't fit properly and it's rather painful." A blush crept upon her face and she cursed herself for being so indecent, but the pain was getting to be unbearable. With every breath she could feel the hard metal ribbing bruising into her sides. The thought of being naked before this man was embarrassing enough, but having time while they talked for the redness to fade would make the situation easier.

His smile was genuine as he stood and took her hand. "Say no more, my wife. I would be glad to help."

He led her away from the window, pausing briefly to loosen the ties of the curtains and avoid the gaze of prying eyes. Once behind her, his breath quickened. She had already removed her gown and kirtle, and stood before him covered only by her corset and chemise. The crumpled pile of white satin on the floor beside them was enough to make him groan, but the vision clad only in her undergarments was pleasing beyond words to the Prince. He could already feel his blood simmer beneath his skin.

Carefully, he loosened the corset that held his wife and frowned at the sight revealed to him. The Prince was made very aware of how tight the garment had been on her and he stared at the deep creases in her chemise. The fabric was stiff and reluctant to move on its own, still taught against her precious skin. The sight immediately reminded him of what it looked like to release a prisoner from their bonds. His poor wife had been suffering all day long and the Prince found himself doing what any decent man would do. He comforted her.

Loose enough to wiggle out of, the Prince lifted the corset off and tossed it to the floor. His hands ran along her back and sides, smoothing out the wrinkles as they traveled down her legs. Her pleasant sighs were intoxicating to him and it seemed as though she was leaning in to him, encouraging his touch. The Prince grew weak with her sounds and she soon found his hands gripping her waist and his breath tickling her ears.

"You said that you would turn away if I should desire another woman. Why?" he whispered, letting his lips temp the skin along her neck. He looked down to see the soft, plentiful bosom that awaited him just under her chemise and stifled a groan behind his lips.

Her eyes closed as she rested her head back on his chest, humming. Her thoughts were still with her, but now there was a warmth flowing through her. "I know I am not pleasing to a man and I desire your happiness, with or without my involvement."

The Prince rested his head on his wife's shoulder and snaked his arms around to hug her closer to him. His deep thoughts only made him want to comfort her more. She had probably spent every day of her life under scrutiny, being told all her faults and feeling shame for things that were beyond her control. The Prince knew her father was a very large man and though it evil that he should belittle his daughter for traits that he himself had cursed her with.

He couldn't help but mourn for her. The Prince found himself growing angry at the thought of his wife having been broken and mistreated. He knew from his mother's example that a woman could be an unrelenting force in one moment and a calm love the next. That power was one he never thought a man could possess and he knew first hand that it would be an asset for when he was running the kingdom on his own. He would need someone to stand by his side. He would need her guidance, love, and trust, but his wife resembled little more than a fraction of the potential hidden inside her.

"And you would let another woman come into my bed chambers and pleasure me?" he whispered out of curiosity. He already knew that should another man ever look her way, he would strangle them. Her claim was brave and an incredibly selfless offer. The Prince couldn't help but smile though as she stiffened in his arms, her discomfort with the idea obvious.

"Your pleasure is mine, your highness," she stated simply, sounding more diplomatic than her body suggested. Her heart ached, already knowing that she would witness him escort a number of women to his bed as their life together progressed. Imagining the sight however, made her sick to her stomach. She knew her body could never make a man fully happy, but she wanted nothing more than to actually be loved by her husband.

His arms around her tightened and his eyes dropped once more to her chest. As he squeezed just below her bosom, her chemise would sink lower, exposing the soft valley between her breasts. He could feel his lips tingle, immediately wanting to be there. "And what if I should desire you in my bed chamber?"

She frowned, thinking it kind of him to humor her. "Your pleasure is mine, your highness," she repeated, struggling to keep the tears from her eyes. Giving herself to this man, already knowing that he wouldn't be faithful made her insides churn once more.

The Prince was nuzzled wonderfully among the warmth of her neck and shoulder, enjoying the charms of his new wife. The sight of tears, once more, streaming from her cheeks and falling on to the sleeve of his shirt confused him. "Wife of mine?" his arms slide to her waist and turned her to face him. "Why are you crying again?"

Her bottom lip trembled and it broke his heart. The Prince trapped her within his arms, clutching her to him as she choked out her response through the tears. "I want so badly to please you."

The Prince couldn't help but smile into her hair. If she only knew what he was thinking, what he had been thinking since he saw her. "What destructive thoughts you must have, my love." He released everything but her hand as he led her back to the bed. Quickly, he removed his clothing and lay in the center of the bed, grinning as her curious eyes frantically moved about his figure. "Have you any knowledge of a man?" he asked, smiling as she shook her head. He pulled her arm gently so she might join him.