Shooting up from a nightmare with wide eyes and a gasp, Charles'  eyes darted around his room with a tight jaw. Air tunneling in and out of his nostrils, he clutched at the comforter spread over him. A cold sweat ran down his back, his brows pinching as he exhaled in frustration. With a grimace, Charles craned his neck towards his window to gaze at the moon, letting its soothing light calm his nerves. He sighed and looked away a moment later, knowing he wouldn't dare give the dream a chance to return by trying to get back to sleep.

He would much rather take another sleepless night.

Sleep had haunted him since the announcement. When Emilia rose with the sun of the following day, his fear would take another step towards reality. Charles knew better. He knew better than to think that the Prince would have any disinterest towards the young duchess. Any man, even a Prince would jump at the opportunity to be with Emilia. They may even perform tricks for a chance to be the first to lay with her. Charles' jaw clenched as the nightmare's images came to haunt him once more.

The thought of Emilia crying to be free of her husband's embrace. The night before, it had been the opposite, moaning the Prince's name and doing his lustful bidding. Charles still wasn't certain of which disgusted him more. Or perhaps he was. While he could loathe both possibilities, he would take the Prince's life should one of the two come true. His fist clutched as he tried to calm himself.

Perhaps it was wrong of him to have such assumptions. He knew nothing of the Prince's personality - not really. But he knew everything of Emilia's. Considering how eager she was to be married, it almost pained Charles to admit that the first dream would have been more accurate to assume.

Head hung low, his mildly damp strands swayed against his face when meeting the cool breeze of the evening. Reaching his destination of the garden, Charles closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, always having enjoyed the scent of roses – especially beneath the light of the moon. And even more with the accompanying scent of ...

Lavender?

Eyes bearing wide, Charles' head rose to view the sight of Emilia sitting on the ledge of the fountain in the middle of the garden. Inhale interrupted by his own sigh of awe, he allowed himself the spectacle. Leaning on her right hand, body curved and presenting that of a mature woman, her legs bent at the knees beside her, feet hanging off the wide stone edge of the fountain.

The white cotton of her sleeping gown seemed to glow against her skin in the heavenly light of the moon. Her blue eyes, lonesome, stared into the water's reflection of herself as her free hand stroked her hair, which sat against her left shoulder, and hung down to the stone.

She was stunning.

But she was also out well beyond her curfew.

And being the one responsible for her, one took precedence over the other.

"Emilia?" Charles called to her, making his way over. His scolding frown turned into one of worry when seeing her flinch and promptly wipe what he assumed to be tears from her eyes.

She was ... crying?

"Emilia?" Charles questioned again, his tone of voice significantly less threatening as he came to a slow stop beside her. She kept her head turned away from him, but he could see the embarrassed scowl on her face within the reflection of the water. His heart panged while his blood boiled. Saddened to see the joy of her smile stolen, and angered by the wonder of how the tears came to take its place. "Emilia," he repeated when she refused to acknowledge him.

Jerking her body around, she hopped off the edge of the fountain, eyes averted and frown prominent as she flattened the ruffles in her gown. She sniffled, head low and began storming away, her voice nasally and withered.

"I'm going to my room. You don't have to escort me," she snapped. But Charles was quick to gently latch onto her arm. Still, she kept her head turned, never wanting to show her tears. But Charles was never one to just stand idly by and watch them fall. "What?" Emilia snipped, her hair shielding her profile from him until he held her shoulder, turning her enough to face him whether she liked it or not.

"Why are you crying?"

"Don't be absurd," Emilia argued, snatching her arm from Charles' gentle grip. "The pollen is more than my tolerance allows tonight, that's all."

Charles couldn't help but give a grim grin. As proud as ever. Of course, she would deny any exposure to her vulnerability. He gave a nod, folding his arms as she straightened hers at her sides.

"Fine," Charles allowed. "Then tell me why you're out past your curfew."

Emilia's eyes widened, unable to come up with an immediate answer. Her lips pursed in embarrassment, and her eyes welled with both anger and sadness. Charles' shoulders slumped, his brows pinching upwards in angst.

"Emilia," he pleaded.

"Leave me, Charles," Emilia wept, turning away again, though this time she did not move to walk away.

Charles scoffed a chuckle. "I've dedicated my life to remaining at your side, Emilia. Please."

A moment of silence lingered between them before Emilia slowly started to turn back around, looking over her shoulder, though her hair still covered her profile.

"You may have been right," she sniffled, her hands coming to brush against her arms, gripping them insecurely.

"About?"

"My ... nerves."

Charles brows rose in understanding as he sighed and allowed himself to sit down against the edge of the fountain.

"About going to see Benjamin."

Turning around, Emilia's face scrunched in what looked to be agony. "What if he changes his mind, Charles? What if I become the woman known as the one Prince Benjamin refused? What will become of me? Who would dare propose to a rejection?"

Charles frowned, stuck between a wall and a hard place. Would he be asked to comfort her about such a thing as well? Staring into her welling eyes, he closed his, and offered her what he could, as he always did.

"He will love you, Emilia," Charles sighed.

"How can you say such a thing so confidently? What if ... he's just being polite? For mother and father's sake? What if he intends on rejecting me when he thinks they've had their fill?"

"Then he will have the misfortune of being the one who let a diamond escape his grasp," he assured with a warm smile.

Emilia's shoulders slumped, her peril drained by the calm demeanor. Charles moved his hand beside him against the stone of the fountain's edge, gesturing for her to have a seat. Wiping her eyes again, she obliged, slumping beside him.

"I so want to marry, Charles. I want it with everything I am," Emilia went on, craning her neck up to gaze at the stars. "To have a family like my parents." Charles smiled, nodding at the sentiment. He knew her dream well. But he also knew what having a family – a happy one, at least – required, which she hadn't seemed to realize just yet. "But," she stammered. "I would want my children to be closer in age."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Edith and I never had much time together before she was married. I found myself alone more often than not." Her head lowered to view her lap in thought before her eyes flickered upwards towards Charles' observant ones. "Well. I did," she smiled. "I guess I have you to thank for that."

When she looked away again, Charles felt his throat knot with the oncoming nerves from such an emotional confession. Swallowing the lump, he offered, "I can help you."

Attention returning to him, eyes gradually drying, Emilia's brows furrowed in confusion. "Help me?"

What am I doing? Charles thought to himself in dismay.

Of all the times to attempt a confession, or anything remotely similar, now was not the time. Not when her meeting with her prince of a suitor was within the proceeding twenty-four hours. Not when she was already so nervous regarding its results. Not when he was her guard. And certainly not after she had just told him, in so many words, that he was the sibling she never had.

"Should you need it," Charles finished, averting his eyes from the prying ones of Emilia. "If there is anything you need help with ... approaching your sure-to-be wedding day. I promise to be there for you."

Smiling, Emilia nodded, her feet subconsciously beginning a happy kick over the edge of the fountain. Soon after, her eyes fell again to her lap in thought, though the soft smile remained.

"Do you really think we'll marry, Charles?"

Sighing, Charles gazed upon her with sorrowful eyes. Benjamin would come to love her, he knew without a doubt. But he was equally as sure that it would never be the way he had his entire life.

"I'd be willing to bet my life. The real question here is whether or not you will want to marry him," he teased, though it was anything but. More of a fleeting thought of hope, if anything.

Emilia giggled, looking to him again. "A duchess not to like a prince?"

Charles' fear precisely.

"Emilia," came the sudden booming voice of duke Richard.

Gasping, both Charles and Emilia's attention snapped to her father who stood at the opening of the garden, expression looking anything but approving. Both standing, Emilia's hands gathered sheepishly near her chest, her head slightly lowered.

"Father ..."

"What are you doing out this late? Have you any idea of what is taking place tomorrow?"

"Y-Yes, Father. Forgive me, I was just speaking with Charles ..."

"Who should have sent you to bed the moment he saw you out of it."

Bowing, Charles kept his eyes low. "Forgive me, sir."

"To your room. Immediately," the duke urged. "Pray you don't look like a working commoner in the morning."

"Yes," Emilia succumbed, rushing back into the Estate as quickly as she could manage with Richard on nipping at her heels, Charles following slowly behind them.

She was well inside by the time Charles caught up to the duke. Bowing his head again, he apologized once more.

"I apologize, sir. I will see to it that she returns to her room for the evening."

"No," Richard refused, making Charles stop with uncertainty.

"Sir?"

"What were you doing out here with her? You should have sent her off the moment you caught her. Which leads me to think you brought her out here yourself."

Charles' eyes widened at the implied accusation, his head immediately shaking in denial.

"I would never," Charles insisted. It was one thing to accuse him of something he had longed to do if he'd actually had the courage to do it. It was another to do so when he was doing the exact opposite. "I had come to the garden after having trouble sleeping, to find Emilia had done the same."

"Hmph," was Richard's gruff rebuttal. "And what were you discussing? Hmm?"

"She was ... crying, sir. I was merely trying to console her. Utterly platonic in nature."

"Crying? Console her about what?"

"She's quite nervous about tomorrow's meeting ... She worries she may tarnish the prince's opinion of her."

"Hmm." The duke paused in consideration, judging the truth of the explanation. "And your comfort to her?"

"I assured her he would love her, as she would him," Charles grimly, though professionally, replied.

"Mm." The duke gave a stiff nod, crossing his arms over his gray, thermal sleeping attire. "It is a big day, after all."

"Sir?"

"I suppose it's only natural for her to be nervous about meeting her first suitor."

"Yes ... I imagine the duchess must have been equally nervous upon meeting you?" Richard chuckled, turning to face Charles, and slap his hand in a grip against his broad shoulder, nearly startling him. "S-Sir?"

"You're a good caretaker, Charles. You've helped raise Emilia to be a fine woman. More so than perhaps even the chambermaids of this estate."

"Ah ..." He bowed his head at the praise. "Thank you."

"But I want you to stay here tomorrow when we go to see Benjamin."

Head jerking up, Charles was taken aback by the swift change in generosity. "Wh-But why?" he stammered at a loss.

"While you are good at your job indeed, and your friendship to our daughter is valued, even I was quick to assume your actions with Emilia at such an hour. Your closeness could prove to be a problem should the prince or his staff  assume the same."

"Surely you can explain our relationship ..."

"We can't take the chance that they won't understand."

"Sir ..."

The duke chuckled seeing Charles' worrisome expression. "So concerned you are for our little girl. Don't fret. I'll be accompanying her. You can put your mind at ease. You should get to bed too, should you wake up looking twice your age," he laughed, squeezing Charles' shoulder before turning and going back into the estate.

Watching him go, Charles stood in a mixture of anxiety and disbelief.

Thank you for reading!

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