How did it come to this? The thought pondered in Rosalina's mind as Damien, King of Trindal, kissed her lips the way only her future husband should. She couldn't stop him, or rather she didn't want to stop him. She found herself moaning softly in the golden candlelit hallway as he found her neck.

They'd known each other for years since she was 3 and he 5; they grew up together, played together, and now this. She had moved into the castle after her foster mother had passed away. Then after the tragic assassination of his wife and parents, by treasonists who disagreed with Trindals separation from England. It was on the balcony where the crowning of Damien's bride, Gianna, Princess of Wahke, was taking place. It had shaken the kingdom to its core.

For a month, Damien had gone missing. It not only hurt Rosalina but worried her. She didn't know what happened to him, or his siblings. Then, on a winter morning, it was announced to the kingdom that Damien was to be made King. Rose remembered placing a hand on her heart, happy that he was alive, but from shock as well. Damien, to be king? What would their relationship be like? She didn't have to wait long after the coronation to find out. Like a knight, he came and rescued her from the loneliness that could have consumed her.

"Rosy, let's go," he pulled his swollen pink lips from hers. He turned his head to the right when they both heard the sounds of guards who patrolled the halls. He looked back at her and they made eye contact that was full of ocean blue and chocolate brown electricity. She nodded at him, and he grabbed her, unique to Trindal, golden-toned hand, to lead her off. Her spiral light brown curls, which sat in a half up half down do, as her own personal crown, lightly flowed behind from their quick pace. She watched his black wavy hair, that was cut right before his ear, flow as well. She knew she'd follow him anywhere.

How did this happen? She wondered. The young couple would often sneak off in the night, doing things that could get them both in trouble. Of course, there were people in the castle whose job was to pleasure the Princes and the King, but Damien didn't approach them. He only approached her. It made her wonder if he truly held feelings for her.

They slid into the castle library where the only light source shined through the giant windows from the bright moon. The King closed the door quietly and mumbled that they lost the guards. Rose hummed in acknowledgment and walked around. Her fingers trailed on the pristine dark wood of the shelves. Her nightgown flowed as she walked. It was better than the old gowns that she used to sport as a commoner. Ever since she started working at the Castle as the Royal Veterinarian, her wardrobe automatically improved and could not compare to her old clothes. But because she was Damien's best friend, she wore the finest of fabrics and silks. The piece she wore at the moment was light pink silk, that was tight around her corsetless breasts and flowed a little past her knees. She wore a matching robe with it, to cover herself. It had a lovely train attached to it that she adored. It reminded her of a wedding gown. She chuckled dryly at the thought.

"You laugh?" Damien spoke in his baritone voice. He followed her, only a couple of steps away. He was also wearing leisurewear.

"I was just thinking this robe is like a wedding dress," she replied softly. "And I am wed to the nights,"

"Rosy," he frowned at her words.

"Is it not true?" She snapped and turned to him. Her spirals flew around her as she did. Her eyes narrowed a bit as she stood tall, though her skin still flushed from his touch.

"You speak as if you a whoring around," Damien looked concerned as he ran his fingers through his waved hair with a peach-toned hand.

"That is what others would think if they knew of our sin," She turned away. "That I'm just a common whore." she crossed her arms. What was she doing here? Her best friend, the King?

"You're not Rose," Damien stepped to her. "Don't say those things. You are a woman of virtue. What we do is-,"

"Wrong," she cut him off while she turned to look at him. He stared at her bewildered.

"Is right!" He countered. "You make me feel like I'm the only man in the world Rosalina," He walked to her and cupped her face gently. She couldn't help but lean into his hand. "You've set your bounds. We don't do anything but what young people do. We don't venture to what husbands and wives are to do. You're still pure," He spoke in a gentle tone.

"But you are King," she looked up at him with the big eyes he'd grown to adore over the past couple of years.

"Which means, I declare, Miss Washington," She giggled softly which in turn made him giggle as well. "That what we do should not worry you. If we get caught or if anyone and I mean anyone, says something presumptuous to you, I will handle it. Do you agree?" His eyes softened at the women before him. She gripped and ungripped his loose shirt as he spoke. Damien snaked his muscular arms around her slender waist, resting his forehead on hers gently. She blushed, biting her bottom lip. He licked his lips and took his hand to her chin, and with a thumb gently pulled her kissable lip from her teeth. "Yes?" He repeated as the world around them slowly erased and it was just them. The intensity built up as a bubble formed around them. Her eyes went from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes.

"Yes," she replied in a whisper, tilting her head to attach her lips to his, sending them into their own world of happiness.