Dedicated to a random commenter lisa_london_ - Thanks for all your wonderful comments. ❤️ No crocodiles in this chapter for you, but there's a pony! If anyone is a fan of Game of Thrones, Lisa writes the best GoT fanfics, with some wiiiild spin-offs.

Early update! Now... despite the misleading chapter title, this is in fact the last chapter of this story.

Chapter 22: Not the End (Part 2 of 2)

The home Amelia returned to was nothing like the home she'd departed from.

Her father had dismissed the servants all those months ago when he caught wind that Warren's men were coming from him. The result was an unkempt Marlborough House, with a layer of dust blanketing the beds and furniture, the gardens overgrown with weed. And a cranky Amelia who was forced to do half a day's worth of dusting and wiping and changing of sheets.

After what felt like never-ending hours of arduous labour, she collapsed into her old bed, groaning as she stretched out the aches in her arms, her legs, her back and everywhere. If she was so thoroughly worn out already... How sore and fatigued must Drake have been from all the travelling he'd done?

He has left her engulfed with guilt. While she cursed at him, hoped for divorce and bargained with his gold, he was doing so much... for her, for her father, for the kingdom.

And yet... he loved her. Could he really? Really, really?

As she wallowed in remorse and dozed off in exhaustion, distant voices travelled through the empty corridors of the house and entered her dreams.

"... she said you slept with beasts."

"What a hypocrite you've raised, sir. I believe it is a common interest shared between us. She coddles that pony far too much."

"Is that jealousy I hear from the young Emir of Steersberg? Over my daughter's pony?"

In her dream, she could see the muscles of his broad back rippling with his hearty laugh. She hugged a pillow to her face and grinned into it. And dribbled.

"I am rather... enamoured by your daughter."

Her heart skipped a dozen beats.

"As pleased I am to hear of it, I must say, your tastes are quite... eccentric."

"I have no retort for that, sir."

Even their underhanded insults did nothing to diminish the smile playing on her lips, which blossomed into a wide toothy grin.

Until an uninvited, impolite intruder came barging into her sweet dreams and wrested the delectable pillow-man out of her death grip. "I'm here Amelia. You do not need to keep assaulting the pillow with your slobber."

Amelia grunted in protest and opened her eyes to glower at her husband. "What made you think you can measure up to my pillow?"

That was silly. Because he responded by dipping his head and kissing her senseless, a skill that now topped his impressive skill set, proving once and for all that he was by far the more desirable of the two.

When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open to find that the sly bastard had already climbed onto the bed, trapping her body in between his strong legs and looking down at her like a carnivorous predator ready for a four-course meal.

She avoided his intense gaze, suddenly all shy and self-conscious. This was broad daylight, in her old home and her old bedchamber where no man other than her father had ever ventured into. Oh, and she was still wearing the dirt-stained, linen dress she'd borrowed from the servants' quarters for her chores earlier. "Let me... let me, uh, change into something more presen—"

"There's no need." His voice dropped an octave as he ran his fingers through the soft tresses spread around her shoulder. "We both know whatever you're wearing won't stay on for long anyway."

What? "But papa..." Her father was still somewhere in the house! Even eavesdropping on them, maybe. Or was that just something she would do...

"So you'll have to stay quiet," he said as he placed a finger between her lips, then drew it downwards, over her chin, her neck, her collarbone... all the way down to her navel. "Very quiet," he whispered.

She could imagine his finger drawing a trail that he would follow with kisses, and she was lost already. Lost in the promise of what's to come. So lost that she'd momentarily forgotten another one of her husband's many talents—being an ass.

"Now that I have explained why I couldn't come to Lyons earlier, Amelia, it is your turn to tell me why you signed that bloody deal with the King."

The reprimanding tone of his demand washed over her like a bucket of ice water, and she jabbed an angry finger into his chest. "Before you blame me for anything, I saved the kingdom from a tyrant. I overheard that the princes had been fighting. I was observant enough to see that there was an opportunity to exploit. So I saved myself. And my father. And gods know what Warren would have done as king so I saved your sorry arse too!"

While she released her torrent of frustration at him for having ruined the mood, he'd already pushed up the skirt of her dress and slipped a hand beneath it, teasing at her thighs. As per usual, the raging Amelia was oblivious to Drake's antics.

"What a coincidental opportunity to be exploited. Who do you think created it?" he asked, digging his nails into the thin linen fabric of her dress.

"Huh?"

"I directed my spies to create a few little incidents for King Dane's men. I told them to spread gossip in the palace that implicated Warren. I hired assassins to take out the King's favoured commander, who deserved death anyway for a few dark secrets of his own. I sowed dissent between them so by the time I got here, I could have exploited the seed of doubt I planted to drive them apart."

Amelia was both surprised and amazed at her husband's stratagems and guile, but pigs will fly the day she lets him take all the credit. "Well you weren't here! So I had to take matters into my own hands."

"Aye, by making deals with my gold, hmm?"

She scowled at him. He'd already responded to the contract by drowning her in kisses and whispers of sweet nothings. Why were men such complex creatures? With their mood swings! And greed! And holding of grudges! "Stop obsessing over your gold," she snapped. "You said you partly own many other businesses. You'll still have gold from them! You'll live!"

"Oh, really? And how much is that? Compared to the gold that the contract will cost me, Amelia?" Slowly, discretely, Drake began tearing the dress upwards while his wife gave the matter some genuine thought.

"Well..."

She'd seen how his silk establishment took up a significant part of the fabric and apparel section of the Steersberg Markets. It looked impressive. And rich. And she didn't know how much he was receiving from other sources. Had she really cost him an arm and a leg?

"Well... umm..." She nibbled at her lip as she cooked up some excuse. "Think about the sacrifice I made too! I mean... your gold is my gold..." Even though she'd made the deal with the King thinking of it as his gold, lies were necessary, from time to time. Including when one was being interrogated by an intimidating husband.

He sneered at her shameless claim. "So all credits to me and my gold."

"And my charms!" she quipped.

"What charms?"

Amelia smirked smugly, proud to boast her own set of skills. "You think you're so great with your spy craft and assassination and gold, but I also charmed the King. Marge said that some men need to be buttered up. That it's easier to please a man if you please his eyes first. And that I could seduce..." She rambled on, unaware of Drake's darkening expression and clenched jaw.

"Pray tell," he urged, his voice soft and cajoling. "What exactly did you do to charm and seduce the King?"

"I made myself look nicer and—"

"Did it involve this?" Drake lifted a finger and stretched the neckline of her dress down to reveal a tiny hint of her cleavage.

Amelia nodded with a flush of scarlet on her cheeks. See? Something her husband couldn't do.

"Hmm," he acknowledged without a flicker of emotion. "And?"

"And I smiled at him and batted my lashes, like I've seen other court ladies do..." Her voice trailed off as she finally noticed a tic in his jaw and his unflinching steely gaze. "Wh-Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Was that why he kept looking at you during the coronation feast?"

She blinked up at Drake innocently. "Did he?"

"Mm-hmm. And you've never batted your lashes at me," he remarked with the slightest trace of grouchiness. Then he sat back onto his heels and pulled his shirt off, revealing a sight that she has longed for since the night before. Her mouth ran dry.

"What... What are you doing?"

Without answer, he ripped her dress from hem to neck. She inhaled a breath of shock.

"Drake, what—"

Before she could cover herself, he flipped her onto her belly and pressed his body flush against her back. "Did your maid not tell you those tricks should be for me, and me only?" His breath tickled against her neck, his stubble grazing the soft skin of her shoulder.

"N-no..."

"Well, they are."

He proceeded to caress and kiss her thoroughly in all places but the most sensitive parts that hungered for his touch. Avoided them and held her down even as she writhed and pleaded and cursed at him in frustration.

Then he spanked her plump cheeks and kneaded them and spanked her some more, to make up for all the slaps and troubles she'd given him in the past, and for this latest round of punishable behaviour.

Until he couldn't hold himself back any longer and gave her everything she begged for and more.

'Twas a night filled with valuable life lessons for all. Whilst Amelia learned that men were far more vengeful than women, Drake learned that his wife couldn't stay quiet to save her life.

Thus the old Duke of Marlborough also learned that he had a preference for sleeping in uncleaned servants' quarters—or even the stables—than anywhere within hearing range of youthful lovebirds. And when it came to his own daughter, that range was astoundingly far.

* * *

"Let me off this thing!"

Drake chuckled as he tightened his arm around Amelia. "You wanted this, remember?"

"I didn't know it was so big—Ahhh!" She shrieked as the proud stallion beneath them neighed and stamped its hooves impatiently.

"Oh, Amelia." He pecked her on the shoulder. "How are you scared of a horse when you have a pony for a pet?"

"One is cute like me. The other is big and un-cute, like you."

"Big and..." He dropped his voice to a whisper by her ear. "Thank you, wife."

"You!" Her cheeks flamed, and she tossed him a glare over her shoulder.

Beside them, the Duke shook his head at the pair who has dilly-dallied at the Old Marlborough House for the past fortnight, supposedly to keep him company and to restore parts of the estate until his former servants and ground keepers trickled back.

The reality, however, was closer to an alternation between bantering non-stop with each other and doing funny business in funny places where they thought nobody could see. They'd clearly not factored in the hearing range. It was gratifying to see that his daughter has found her love and protector in the so-called 'devil spawn'. If only they didn't make things so awkward at the same time.

As a good, caring father should, he cleared his throat to break apart the lovebirds, who'd somehow found themselves locked in lips. Again. "If you don't leave now, you won't be making the next town by nightfall," he kindly reminded.

In between a fresh onslaught of tears, Amelia farewelled her father and made him promise for the tenth time that he'd visit them in Steersberg. Aye, he promised—when there are grandchildren for him to see, and not just the two of them bickering and kissing the living daylights out of each other.

At last, Drake eased the horse into a canter away from Marlborough, leaving the echo of a certain lady's screams on the wind.

As Drake slowed their pace to a trot, Amelia relaxed. Riding wasn't so bad when she was nestled safely between his arms. Soon, she might even whoop in delight when they charge down a hill.

Though she would never ride a horse on her own.

It meant they had to go at a slower pace and take frequent breaks, for the poor beast could not run swift with two riders on its back. But why do the riding and manoeuvring when she had a husband to do it for the both of them? That's what a husband was for. Amongst other things.

Amelia tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder. "Are you certain William will be able to handle your estate and business matters while we're away?"

"He will have to," Drake responded with a feathery kiss to her temple that left her tingling.

One of these days, she will need to see a healer. The effect he had on her with something so simple was absurd. It must be an illness of sorts. A happy illness, though. And she nuzzled the side of her face against his chest as she giggled in joy and excitement.

After their fortnight of blissful unproductivity (unless one considers reproduction productive), they'd agreed to take the 'scenic route' home. In other words, an extended journey to the farther south, and east and west and all around. Meanwhile, they would defer their duties as Emir and Emira for... an indefinite time. Along with ignoring the old steward's pleas for their return.

Her happiness was contagious, and tugged the corners of his mouth into a broad grin.

Amelia reached a hand up, running her fingers lightly along her husband's chiselled jaw, admiring the smile that warmed her insides. She wondered how things might have been if it wasn't for him.

Would there be a King Warren by now? Would he have done anything to her and her father once he'd gotten his legitimised claim to the throne? Who would Drake have taken... for his wife? Would he love her too? Perhaps... more?

"What's wrong, Amelia?"

She lifted her gaze to find him studying her with a slight frown. He cupped her cheek with a hand, gently smoothing away the shadow that had touched her delicate features as those unhappy thoughts swirled in her head.

Once upon a time, she'd never wanted to marry. And now, she couldn't imagine a life without him. "Thank you. For everything."

But those were not the words he wanted to hear.

Drake brought their mount to a complete stop and looked into those bold, spirited eyes he'd admired since their first meeting—the only facial feature he could even see at that meeting, in fact. "Tell me you love me," he demanded.

As soon as those words left his mouth, the rare sight Amelia's genuine sincerity vanished. Quick as a puff of wind.

"No." She glanced away from him. Not so bold any more.

"You love me."

"No."

He pulled her closer and captured her lips in a searing kiss that she gradually returned with fervour. "I love you too," he whispered before nudging the horse forward again.

Long hours after, when the sunset painted hues of orange and violet across the skies, she turned her face into his chest and muttered something almost unintelligible. But it was enough to make his heart sing, and he sped down the hill with his beloved, who squealed in half-fright, half-delight. To the quaint little town a scant mile away.

To the next chapter of their adventure. With him, anywhere would be her home.

But they did not know then, that after their sweet, wondrous journey around the lands, upon their return to the Steersberg Manor, a gift from the King awaits.

Because Amelia wasn't quite right when she thought the palace was a place of games. Such games were never confined to the palace. This was a whole world of a never-ending game of schemes and ploys.

And they were wrong if they'd ever thought a bastard prince who grew up in the court of lies and deceit couldn't play a few games.

The cunning Emir and his charming Emira made a grand pair the King did not wish to tear apart and make enemies of. Nor was he willing to simply let them go, either.

As soon as they'd both departed the palace, the King sealed the second order that he'd drafted on a whim on the night of his brother's execution. An order that meant the King could care less about having a declaration of fealty from Drake. An order that would tie the fate of their two houses and compel the devious Emir to act in the best interests of the crown.

The order to create a marriage—between King Dane's first-born son and the Rohans' first-born daughter.

This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end.

But it is, perhaps, the End of the Beginning.

———

Stay tuned for the epilogue, which should be up in a few days.