Chapter Text
Ella felt the maids eyes on her back as she undressed for bed, suddenly stiffening as she became aware of the scars that tore down her back in rigid lines. She wasn't very used to being helped to dress and had completely forgotten to cover her shoulders as she loosened her slip, shrugging it off her shoulders as she walked towards the screen. As soon as the golden panes hid her, Ella overhead cautious whispers break out between the two young girls, and Ella forced herself to smile, although no one could see. She would react the same as well, Ella supposed, calmly folding the thin slip over the screen and being promptly handed her nightshift. When she stepped back out, her composure renewed, she watched the girls expressions change, looking to her though she were a wounded animal. Ella tried her best not to resent the fact that she would be the talk of the upstairs servants within the hour, once they were dismissed, word traveling like wildfire in such close quarters. And, of course, ladies maids pass on ‘useful’ information to their mistresses.
Her mothers mantra helped Ella on days like this, courage and kindness waining as the hours ticked by, spent in the company (this time) of a band of ladies recommended by numerous sources to be considered as ladies in waiting and then an assembly of royal physicians and respected doctors, all individually examining her for the better part of the afternoon. They were nothing if not thorough, both the ladies and but it all made Ella a little victimised and uncomfortable, and dinner failed to lighten her mood. Kit had been absent, closeted in a meeting with Phillip, the former Captain of the Guard and newly declared Grand Duke. Ella had felt quite alone, and terribly sorry for Kit and the position he was in.
She shouldn't have eaten all the poached salmon, Ella resolved as she slipped into bed, feeling a little queasy as the numbingly frigid sheets enveloped her. Nine days into December and everyone agreed that the first snow would fall by the end of the month, the temperature dropping dramatically as the season officially changed into winter and the frost began to for in bigger and bigger clumps, resembling snowfall. At least she wasn't in her old abode, curled in a ball on her pathetic excuse of a bed in the attic, or spending the night by the kitchen fireplace, but recalling how bone-chillingly freezing those nights were only brought on other memories. Burying her face in her pillow, inhaling the smell of the flowers Ella knew were folded beneath the case, fresh Christmas Roses picked that very morning for that particular purpose. Ella had been surprised when she accompanied Clara, one of her maids, into the garden, all the Christmas Roses she had known possessing a faintly musty perfume. The smell calmed her, even if it was something unfamiliar.
Her arms went over her head, hands gripping fistfuls of the pillow and Ella pushed her knees up to her ribcage, praying that sleep would take her and end the day, and that her sleep would be more restful than the previous weeks.
Meanwhile, Kit’s mind was consumed with worry and doubt, his faith in human goodness temporarily postponed, upon the realisation that all was not well for Ella. He had not expected her to be perfectly fine after merely two months at the palace, in a warm loving environment with his support and company, but he hadn’t been made aware of many things, some things that Kit would have preferred to be told by his future wife. He wasn’t distressed over that, however, he knew that it was difficult for her to speak about her life with her stepfamily, afraid of casting them in an unfavourable light as much as disliking the memories.
The footman he had sent to inform Ella that he would not be dining with her seemed to have considered it prudent to report that His Majesty was meeting with Captain, and that was to a degree true. Acting on no instruction, he had told Ella’s maid a half true. Kit was, indeed, meeting with Phillip, but he was also meeting with a number of physicians and no one was discussing the previously disposed Grand Duke.
Prudence had been the one to suggest the examination, and Kit had wished he had the ability to melt on the spot when she did. Ella had gone along with the idea, despite Kit’s insistence that it was not necessary, wishing to uphold tradition. With the wedding days away it could not have been put off any longer, and so Kit had begrudgingly organised the difficult event, and completely denied the possibility that he felt more uncomfortable about it than Ella was.
On a conscious level he knew there was nothing to worry about on the doctors part, seeing as almost all of them were middle aged and very matter of fact in their composure. Indeed, as Kit read through the last of the international replies to the wedding invitations, he began to muse on how many men of healing he actually liked. There had been Doctor Crane, but he had retired years ago, a few months after his mother passed, in fact, being the last light hearted physician he had ever met, excluding James Cole, the under court physician and field medic that Kit had met in the war and brought back. Then again, a dying man hardly wanted a jolly doctor.
His musings had been cut short by the arrival of the four physicians and Phillip (who was still determined to be referred to as ‘Captain’), who went on to relay some obvious details. For one, Ella was undernourished, and reluctantly responded to Leigh’s, the Royal Physician Grai’s apprentice, questions with concerning answers. She had, in their eyes, survived off little more than scraps for a considerable time, and as a result was much thinner than recommended.
“There is a marked improvement, however, Your Majesty.” Grai insisted, under the pretence that he could assess someones health by simply looking at them close up, as he supposedly had done Ella when first he was introduced to her.
“The new diet has certainly helped her physical appearance.” Cole agreed, nodding behind his thick glasses from his low chair in the corner. “Her skin has a better colour and she’s putting on more weight, but there are still some reservations I have.” At his comment, Kit heard Grai snort. The young expert looked to Kit for permission to continue, which was granted with a kindly nod, the even younger king interested in what he had to say.
“She hasn’t been sleeping, I suspect, or it is broken. It is not so uncommon for a person to be plagued by continuos night visions up to years passed a, well, horrifying ordeal.” Kit knew this, as did Phillip, but both men were somewhat bemused by what the physician was suggesting.
“Soldiers have such mental scarring, not mistreated serving girls.” Grai chided sharply, and realising his error within seconds of the conclusion of his sentence he looked to the king, who’s mild irritation washed away any fear of a reproach.
“The Lady Ella would had to have suffered some physical trauma if what you believe is true, indeed?” Phillip intercepted, posing his question to the medic rather than the general practitioner.
“Not necessarily,” Cole’s eyes lingered on Kit as he replied, and the youthful king felt an overwhelming sense of invasion, as if reminded of an old shame, “but we know that she has.”
“It is not proper to disclose such details!” Grai rebuffed, bristling at the inappropriateness of where the conversation was headed.
“Unless in a manner that would justify a diagnosis.” Leigh meekly argued, cautious of the elder gentleman, who had a notorious temper in regard to his underlings.
“All facts must be taken into consideration, and reported back to me.” Kit evenly informed the trusted senior, now decidedly intrigued and more than a little worried. “Even if,” he added “the subject is not considered suitable for polite conversation.” The sole reason, traditionally, an examination was called for was to determine whether or not the princess destined to marry into the royal family was capable of bearing children, and that made the very meeting unbecoming for refined men to participate in.
“She has scars, Your Majesty.” Grai said grudgingly. “Prudence was kind enough to help with her hands when first she arrived,” Kit remembered the horror on the housekeepers face when she caught sight of Ella’s well worked hands, “but there is some old evidence of broken skin.”
“Which are?” Kit pressed on as Phillip’s eyes narrowed, seeing connections that Kit unconsciously denied.
“There are a few abnormalities on her forearms, most likely purely accidental, but there are some large scars, healed lacerations that I do not believe were unintentional, or made by her.” Kit felt sick, focusing on his hands on the desk and trying to deny to himself the obvious truth.
“How, do you believe, were they made?” He sighed, and it was Leigh who spoke, voice more authoritative as he began to discuss a field he knew well.
“It is common in most households for the housekeeper or butler to undertake some punishments when disobedience or insolence are in question, and I have seen a number of people, from stable boys to chambermaids, that bear similar markings to Her Ladyship.” Leigh had been, before the beginning of his seemingly eternal apprenticeship, a well respected doctor in the town, and well loved by many of the commons, making house calls and holding a surgery like his father before him. “Some severe parents, even, may take it as a form of discipline, but few would go to such lengths to ensure the lesson was learnt.”
“What do you intend to suggest, Doctor?” Phillip challenged, his tone hostile.
“That the Lady Tremaine had, on an occasion or two, physical harmed her to the extent where she may have taken an object, apparently thin and long, and repeatedly struck her with it.” A rod.
And so Kit fell into an uneasy sleep, hounded by the despicable fact that a monster such as Lady Tremaine had been forgiven for her cruelty.
~
Economies had to be taken into account, and Ella understood that just as much, if not more than, her stepfamily. The household had already been dismissed, leaving Ella in the loving hands of her stepfamily, but now, with the cost of three new dresses a fortnight finally overcoming the demanding trio, valuable possessions were being sold. The first to go was her fathers clothes, and the next were the many artefacts he had collected on his travels, like a vase she remembered him presenting to her mother. It was simply decorated down the white ceramic sides, painted flowers with brightly coloured petals vining across the surface, and Ella loved it just as much as her mother had. Which was why, when all their possessions were being sold, Ella had moved it out of her stepmothers eye, to drastic consequences.
Ella awoke late that night, heart hammering and breathing erratic as sweat ran off her in droplets, tears staining her face as she forced back sobs and shook. Dragging herself to a sitting position she slowly tried to calm herself, focusing on the ethereal light the moon forced through her curtains, her own hand over her mouth to restrain the noise. She had screamed aloud and woken herself up, making even more sound would not be wise if Ella wanted to avoid questions. If anyone heard, however, no one came and she was not sure how she felt about it. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she finally regulated her breathing, slowly moving her index finger down the disfigured tissue of her upper forearm. It was there and it would never leave her, she accepted that, and everything was okay, it had been one of the lesser nightmares.
The young woman had been unable to find courage when Lady Tremaine had thrown the beautiful vase down the hall, straight for her, and all Ella could do in the second before it collided with her was give in to instinct and raise her arms to protect her face. The image of reddened shards of pottery ricocheting off her arms and cutting through the air replayed and replayed, the scene in slow motion as blood gushed from her cuts and spattering onto her face and hands as she toppled over, unbalanced by the force of the vase hitting her. From then she had fallen onto the floor, trying to staunch the bleed with the skirt her old stripe patterned dress and greying apron, she had been ordered in a disgusted tone to collect the broken pieces up again. She, however, had given focus to picking up herself first, and had received a kick as payment for her negligence.
Ella suddenly wanting nothing more than something to hold, someone to hold her back and soothe her worries, fight off the nightmares with her. Every night she had considered running to Kit, begging him to stay with her and keeping her safe through the night, but something always held her back. It wasn’t that she was afraid Kit would turn her away, she knew he would never cast her aside and rebuff her in her state, but she was afraid of the implications spending the night with him held.
She had, previously, refused to give in to the desperate need for company in her darker hours, adamant that she would never force him into the position where he was obligated to comfort her.
Practically throwing herself off the bed, her feet hitting the cold floor with a resounding thud, Ella ignored all her reservations and all the reasons why she shouldn’t, throwing open the door to her parlour and traveling through it to the neutral rooms to the right. From there, there was little more than a room that separated her from his door, and soon she had crossed it, her hand knocking on the door furiously as she prayed for a response.
~
“Ella?” He was groggy from sleep, and did not have enough faith in his eyes to believe that his betrothed was now standing in front of him, clearly shaken up and possibly close to tears. In any other circumstance, Ella would not have trusted herself. It was one thing to spend the days with her betrothed, but nights might just be overstepping the mark. She would never dream of putting Kit in a difficult situation, however, unless she was quite honestly terrified. Her distress was obvious, heart hammering and breathing ragged for all the wrong reasons, when Kit opened the door.
“Kit.” She breathed, and he could see, even in the gloom of night, the relief on her face when she saw him. “Kit, I can’t sleep.” Now, he had dreamed of her appearing at his door in the middle of the night, nightshift askew and golden hair lose, and uttering those exact words - except in all those dreams she wasn’t on the road to having a panic attack. “I had a nightmare and..,” There were tears in her eyes, just to add to the amounting evidence that she had suffered no ordinary nightmare. Despite their thin layers and the generally impropriety of an embrace at this time, in the doorway to his bedchamber, in their state of undress, Kit wrapped his arms around her and she clung onto him as though he might float away, never to be seen again.
“You’ve been having them a lot, haven’t you?” His voice was a gentle suggestion in her ear, soothing her even more. She only nodded, afraid to speak in case she began to weep, burying her face further into his shoulder. She trembled violently, in an effort not to break down, and he feared she would lose her balance, an excuse to keep his arms tightly about her.
“Kit, I know it’s not proper, but..” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, but she was close enough to his ear to make out the words. “I need you right now.” Now, the way he imagined her saying this had a lot more force and lust. Now, when she had murmured those words, there was no desire in them, only a heart felt plea for comfort. He would no deny her it.
“I don’t think you’ve seen my room.” He contemplated, taking her by the hand and closing the door slowly behind them, as if to give Ella an opportunity to leave. He wouldn’t try anything, obviously, but he didn’t want her to feel worse than she already did - simple things like that helped her remind herself she had a choice. “Our room, in a few weeks anyway.” He corrected himself.
“It’s big.” She noted after a pause. Ella really couldn’t see all that much, no candles were lit (she felt rather guilty, he had clearly been asleep when she knocked) and the drapes were thick and heavy in preparation for the winter that was on their doorstep. Realising that he must be tired, she hadn’t even thought to check the clock in her apartments, but she knew it had to be passed midnight, Ella moved a little closer to the bed.
“Do you have a preference?” Kit asked, noting her slight movement towards the bed. At least they’d figure this out now as opposed to waste time on the wedding night debating which side belongs to who. The difficulty was, with Ella so kind and Kit so chivalrous, they rarely expressed what they wanted, in the off chance someone else wanted it.
“No,” Ella replied truthfully. She had never really had a double bed, and so when she moved to the palace she just slept in the middle. “Which do you prefer?”
“You can pick.” Kit offered, but by now Ella’s eyes had adjusted to the increased darkness of the room and could see that the right side of the bed was unmade. So she took the initiative to move around to the left side, feeling a little awkward that she was climbing into someone else’s bed. Kit followed her lead.
“Do you want a pillow wall or anything?” He eventually offered, feeling more embarrassed than ever. Kit really hoped she didn’t think he’d get too familiar in the night, but if it made her feel safer who was he to deny her?
“It’s fine, I trust you.” He could hear the encouraging smile in her voice, but deep down she was less convinced of herself. Hadn’t she imagined this scenario a thousand times over? Admittedly, it was a little bit more romantic in her head and ended with them in a heap on the floor, but it was similar in some aspects.
Now, they may have loved each other, but that did not mean they were completely comfortable with the new arrangement. Both of them edged as far away from the other as they bed allowed, more for the sake of their partners privacy and personal space than for their own peace. This was completely unexplored territory, and Ella found herself curled in a ball facing away from him and Kit just lay perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling.
“Good night.” The had both said at the same time, both exchanges short and curt. Ella rolled over, conscious of how much space she was taking up as she did so, to face him when she thought he was asleep - only to find his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. Kit was almost paralysed, too scared to even look at the corner of his eye at her.
Despite the physical distance, however, Ella felt stronger with him nearby, and was not so terrified to close her eyes as she had been. She had wasted maybe three hours gathering the courage to move, having woken in cold sweat with her mind racing. She regretted not coming to Kit immediately, and with a small smile remembered that it was only a few weeks until she wouldn’t have to sleep apart from him ever again.
Kit woke in the early morning to the tossing and turnings of the beautiful woman beside him. At first the young king had been very, very confused, but after recalling the interruption to his sleep earlier on in the night he became concerned for her. It wasn’t long until her movements became violent thrashing, struggling through a battle in the shadows of slumber, and with a cry she woke herself up.
Ella wasn’t aware of her surroundings at all. The only thing she could think about was the sound of shattering glass and the feel of kicks and blows, sobbing uncontrollably as her mind refused to calm down. Within seconds, however, she felt loving arms embrace her and pull her close, and she sobbed into Kit’s neck, and he kissed her head, squeezing his eyes shut. In time her heart slowed to match his pace, but she didn’t bother to remover herself from his grip.
“I was so scared…” She whispered, lips brushing against his neck. In any other situation this action would lead to something a lot more heated, seeing as she had just been tumbling about and moaning in his bed, but that night it was different. Ella was more vulnerable than she had ever been, and Kit was more in love with her than he had ever been - was that possible?
“I’ll always be here.” Kit assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. It pained him to see the woman he loved so blatantly terrified and troubled, but he would never try and escape it. Right then she needed his love, and he would gladly give it for the rest of his life.
For the third time in the last ten hours, Kit’s slumber was interrupted by Ella. This time, however, wad a lot more pleasant - the king being drawn from his dreams by a determined tongue running across his own. He felt her gasp when he returned the kiss, pushing himself up and she grabbed hold of his hair. They broke away hardly a moment after that, both fearing they would go too far. In the pale glow of dawn Ella admitted to herself that she wanted him, waking only a few minutes before the sun from a dream that was in every way different from her previous two. She blushed when she met his eyes, sure he knew of what her latest dream had been of.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Ella replied, returning his ridiculously happy grin. “I’m going before the servants wake up.” She confessed apologetically and tried not to see the disappointment in his eyes. “Thank you.” She would not have slept at all if he had not been there.
Kit watched her go, not moving from the sitting position he had obtained in their short kiss, pretending to not admire the curves of her form, so obvious beneath the thin nightshift. He failed, and he knew it even before she noticed her cheeks go an even bright red. His forlorn heart gave a summersault when she paused at the door, and she turned to look at him again.
“Kit..could I come back?” Her request was a simple one, if improper, and Kit responded immediately.
“Of course, my love.”