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She'd be lying if she said she never thought about how their wedding night would go. She would also be lying if she said that she never thought about it in ways that was anything other than how those trashy romances that the Captain was so fond of reading wrote it—not that she read them, certainly not, but it was impossible to not catch glimpses of the words when she threw them out, especially since she had to flip through the pages and rip all the bad parts to pieces, since Sophie could pick them up and read them, so naturally she had to accidentally read some of it since it wasn't like she could turn off her ability to read and—
Anyway. Her imagined wedding night. In her fantasies, everything was perfect. From the way Asbel would carry her from the wedding hall to their room, to the way the sheets were delicately folded back for them, to the way the first glimpses of evening peeked through the window as Asbel set her down gently on the feathery bed, eyes alit with love and desire. And she would whisper his name, and he would whisper her name, and she would reach up for him, caressing his face as he reached down and did the same, and then he would lean down, closer, closer, closer still—
What she actually got was him struggling to remove her corset.
"Um," she heard him say, "I, uh, don't understand how this works."
The romance gauge was already running at negative ten, so there wasn't anything to lose by sighing and reaching back to pry his hands away from her back. "I'll get it myself," she said, and when she looked back, she found his face redder than she had ever seen it in her life. Even if their wedding night hadn't gone the way she dreamed, seeing him so...so endearingly flustered was almost worth it.
Almost.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
She froze, corset ribbons falling from her still fingers. "What."
"I-I mean," Asbel continued, not looking at her and seemingly focusing on one of the pillows sitting on the bed, "we could do something else. Like play cards!"
"Asbel Lhant," she said slowly as she gave up on the corset and got on her knees, turning so that she faced him fully, "are you saying that you don't want to—want to—"
"N-no! I do! I really, really do!" He looked at her again, flushed, and then went back to looking at the pillow. "It's just... Cheria, you're getting naked."
"You have to get naked to have— To do—" Damn it, he was making it awkward. Why couldn't he be smooth and sauve, like the heroes in the— Oh, who was she joking. It was Asbel.
"We are going to get naked, mister, and that's that," she screeched, and the mood had definitely been killed, because she even winced at the pitch her voice took, and if the way Asbel had flinched and turned to look at her with apprehension in his eyes, it was probably dead for him to.
Or maybe it'd been dead for him a long time ago. Either way, it was unacceptable.
"That's it, we are getting naked right now," she declared, then stood on her knees and began unlacing her corset with gusto. If getting naked didn't solve the problem, then...she'd think of something else later.
"W-w-w-wait," Asbel began, but then she managed to get it off and peeled her undershirt off and. Well. She was naked from the waist up.
And Asbel was still fully dressed, staring at her breasts with some strange combination of awe and dismay plastered across his face.
"Focus," she snapped, and he managed to tear his eyes away from her breasts and to her eyes. "You're still way over dressed!"
"R-right," he replied, and then his fingers fumbled to remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt at the same time. Predictably, he failed, and he swore and he shook his arms and jostled his shoulders at once to dislodge the jacket while he focused all of his fingers to button duty.
Cheria counted to a hundred and fifty—over two minutes!—before sighing and reaching over, yanking his jacket off and causing Asbel's arms to snap to his sides in the process.
"I'll undress you, you big dummy," she huffed, and Asbel was back to staring at her breasts again. "That doesn't mean you can just...slack off!"
"I'm sorry! You just have really nice," here, he attempted to gesture with his hands at his chest, "uh, nice... Uh."
"Breasts! They're my breasts! And I'm glad," she added as she ripped his shirt open, popping most of the buttons in the process, "that you think," she tore it off his arms, causing him to plant face first onto the bed, "that they're so nice," here, she attempted to roll him over onto his back, "because you'll be seeing them all night!"
"Oh god," he said as she tried to unbutton his pants. "We're actually going to do it."
"Yes, we are absolutely going to do it as soon as I get these pants off you!"
"I don't think I can do it. I'm too nervous."
Cheria almost screamed.
"I'm sorry! I'm really nervous! I don't want to be nervous, but this important to me and I can't stop thinking about it enough to... You know." He made vague motions with his hands at his general crotch area that conveyed the message perfectly.
"Noooooo," she wailed, and before she could even flop back onto the bed to bemoan her fate, the door to their room slammed open.
"In times of sexual incompetence," King Richard—King Richard?! What was he doing here?! Why was he in that ridiculous getup!? Oh god, King Richard was in the room while she was mostly naked.—"turn to me! I am—"
"The Mask of Barona," Asbel shouted, sounding way too excited for someone who just got their wedding night interrupted by their childhood friend in a shoddy cape and turban. "Hey, I finally remembered your name!"
Cheria did scream that time.
"YOUR MAJESTY, WHY ARE YOU HERE," she shrieked, grabbing the pillows and clutched them in front of herself as a poor attempt at modesty.
"I am here," Richard said, throwing his cape to the side and letting it flap majestically behind him, "to help a charming and lovely young couple achieve sexual satisfaction on their most important of nights!"
"W-wait." Asbel sat up. "How did you—"
"How did I know? Haha, I am the Mask of Barona! I know all!"
"RICHARD," Cheria roared, and she really didn't care anymore if she wasn't supposed to scream at a king. "GET OUT."
"Richard?" Asbel asked at the same time Richard coughed and said, "No, no. I am flattered that you would mistake me for him, but I am the—"
"MASK OF BARONA," she yelled, getting up because modesty be damned, she was not going to let Richard be their coach on their wedding night! "GET OUT!"
For a split second, Richard faltered, then whatever madness possessed him came back and he laughed. "Very well! In the meanwhile, I shall leave you with these materials! Now, I bid you...good day!"
He threw porn at them. She threw a knife.
It, sadly, hit the door he closed behind him as he left.
"...Wow," Asbel said after a few tense seconds of silence. "The Mask of Barona sure is nice."
"Unbelievable," Cheria muttered, then stomped to the coat rack and grabbed the bathrobe that the maids had thoughtfully hung there for them to use.
"Although this book... Hey, Cheria," Asbel called after her as she headed the door. "Where are you going?"
"For a walk," she said through gritted teeth, pulling out the knife before opening the door and leaving.