Chapter Text
Casteel Da’Neer never quite knew what to expect when he entered the sprawling suite where he resided with his queen. Sometimes she was sprawled on the bed, nose deep in a book and gnawing on a wedge of cheese as the fluffy comforter threatened to swallow her. Sometimes she was sprawled on the bed in far less clothing… with far less innocent plans. But the last thing he expected was to find her curled in an armchair in front of the fireplace, hands frantically wiping at red-rimmed eyes before flashing him a too-wide, unconvincing smile. He dipped his chin and fixed her with a stern, admonishing glare.
“Poppy,” he warned. Her jaw dropped to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. “Do not try to act like you weren’t just crying.” The Atlantian king strode over to her, kneeling when he reached her and grasping her fidgeting hands. “Instead, why don’t you tell me why my queen is so upset.” Fiery hair brushed over her shoulders as she shook her head.
“It’s silly, really,” she huffed.
“Doubtful. If it made you cry,” Casteel reached up, brushing his thumb over the lingering moisture on her cheek, “I would say it is anything but silly.” With a dramatic sigh the redhead straightened, her hips wiggling herself deeper into the chair as her shoulders rolled back.
“Rose asked about preparations for the winter holidays. How I wished to decorate. If I wished to host any banquets or balls or celebrations.” His brows furrowed in confusion, uncertain how planning for the end-of-year festivities might lead her to tears. “And I had no idea. It was so unexpected, and I asked what exactly all of that entailed. What was customary. And she just kept insisting that we would do whatever I wanted, but…” Poppy’s voice trailed off and she swallowed. “But… I have no idea.”
“They celebrated the winter solstice in Solis, didn’t they?” he asked, fingers trailing down her arm. He wanted to gather her in his arms, to feel her warm, supple body fitting perfectly against his lean form. But he didn’t want to look away from those shimmering emerald eyes.
“Yes. They did.” Her voice was tight with bitterness and something else he couldn’t quite place. Not for the first time, he wished he shared her gift for feeling the emotions of others, but her emphasis on the word ‘they’ combined with the words she’d left unsaid made his chest burn with chagrin.
“They did. But you did not,” he finished for her, realization softening his tone.
“ Could not,” Poppy corrected thickly. Ire flickered through his blood as he thought of the young, fire-haired maiden being denied yet another joy. It shouldn’t have continued to surprise him, but he found himself seething each time he learned something new about her life before she’d barged into his room at the Red Pearl.
Casteel gave into the temptation, wrapping an arm under her folded knees and the other behind her shoulders and lifting her effortlessly from the padded chair. Laughter rumbled from his chest when she shrieked his name in surprise. He walked them into the bedchamber, placing her gently on the bed against the headboard before climbing over her and settling in next to her. He laced his fingers with hers, amber eyes lingering where they touched before he found her gaze.
“Tell me?”
He knew he didn’t need to elaborate. They’d had enough of these conversations, almost always at his insistence, for her to know what he was asking. It wasn’t healthy for her to keep her emotions buried so deep. She didn’t have to anymore, and Casteel was determined to draw it out of her. Minute by minute. Memory by memory.
Poppy shrugged, pulling his hand into her lap. “The Maiden was forbidden from familial relationships, from the pleasures of celebration, and from indulging in gifts. The Duke and Duchess valued their solstice celebrations so greatly that they allowed nearly all the staff to celebrate with family, save for a handful that would prepare for the Duke’s banquet. Even the royal guards. I was… locked in my room. From the outside. Duke Teerman saw to it personally after I’d been caught roaming the halls when I was twelve.” Casteel’s large hand tightened around hers, a growl rumbling up his throat.
“I swear on all the fucking gods and goddesses, every time you tell me something new about your life as the Maiden I want to bring him back from the pits and kill him again.” His gaze dropped to her lap, where her calloused fingers trailed over his golden skin, scratching deliciously over his knuckles and the pads of his palm. “You never snuck out? Through the old servant’s entrance that you used to get to the Atheneum?”
She shook her head, misty eyes looking straight ahead. “Solstice was pretty quiet in Masadonia. Small, intimate family gatherings. The only event of note to sneak off to would have been the Duke’s banquet.” A surprised giggle lifted from her full lips as she gave him a wry smile. “And as woefully inadequate as you and Kieran say my sense of self-preservation may be, I had enough sense not to put myself in that particular situation.”
“I’m honestly surprised,” he mused, barely avoiding the pillow she swung at him as she gasped in offense. His free hand caught it, tugging it away from her. “Honestly, Poppy. I met you in a brothel and not even a week later I found you clutching a scathing diary, balancing upon a second story ledge because the Duke had nearly caught you in his private Atheneum study. Nothing about the time I’ve known you tells me that you would do anything less than try to eat, drink, and be merry right under Dorian Teerman’s sneering nose.” Casteel’s lips curved, taking her in as she huffed and blew a silken tendril of red from her face. She was an absolute delight, even as she pouted, and he was so irrevocably smitten with her. Her eyes shifted to him, cheeks reddening from his attention. Which only caused his grin to widen.
“Is this part of what the queen is supposed to do? Plan parties and choose ribbons and garlands and table linens and table settings?” Poppy’s question was quiet, her expression one of uncertainty. Casteel lifted his hand, fingers cupping her chin gently and pulling them together until their noses were merely a breath apart.
“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, Princess,” he kissed her nose before clearing his throat. “Pardon me. Queen . We don’t have to have any parties at all, if that’s what you prefer. You are, quite literally, in charge.”
“That’s not what I want at all,” she balked with a grimace. “I think we should have parties and celebrations. The people of Atlantia deserve any and all festivities, especially now.” The king’s hand left her chin to weave through the ends of her hair. Gods, he loved it so. And she had refrained from cutting it, allowing it to grow long and luscious - the ends nearly brushing over her shapely rear.
“But?” he prodded.
“But I don’t know anything about it! Ask me to lead men and women into battle. Ask me to spar and fight. Ask me to spend time with the people and learn about them and their country. Our country. But planning banquets and balls?” Her hands had begun gesturing as her voice became more frantic. Casteel caught her wrists, stilling her and earning her attention.
“It’s quite simple, Poppy. Do you want to do it? There are plenty of people who can help you. Advise you. Practically plan everything for you, if you want, and you can simply oversee everything,” he murmured calmly, lowering her hands back to her lap. “And if you want the festivities to take place, but you don’t care to be a part of the planning and preparation, we can appoint someone to take care of it all. It is truly up to you. Completely.” He felt the deep sigh all the way down to where he clasped her wrists, sliding them down to curl over her fingers.
“I… I would like to be a part of it. But I need… help.” The queen snickered, lids narrowing. “Lot’s of it. I’m not certain if it’s a skill set I possess.”
Sensing her growing relief, Casteel took the chance to pull her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin. One large hand found the curve of her hip and let his fingers caress the skin underneath the gown she wore. The feeling of her was already doing things to him.
“I have a thought. I’ll have Kieran fetch his mother and mine, Rose, and whoever else they might consider particularly knowledgeable or capable. Then we can discuss plans and start setting things into motion. How does that sound?” His free hand began tracing the laces at the back of her dress with intent. Poppy’s only answer was a nod against his chest, followed by a lingering press of her full red lips against his throat. The hum against his pulse told him that she felt his instant hardness against her. He grinned wickedly, allowing his touch to roam from her hip, over her stomach, and to float across her breasts. “But for now, my queen, I have quite a different celebration in mind.”