Doraland – 4th of January 1533

It was the day all the kingdom of Doraland were anticipating. Today, the only daughter of a European man and an African woman would marry a king. Throughout the kingdom, there was excitement. Some of the subjects were filled with disbelief. They did not think their king would ever have another queen. He had endured more tragedy than most rulers in his short time on the throne. He had lost his wife, his mistress, and both of his children within thirty days. Then, came along Chelsea Remington, the only daughter of a powerful duke. She soothed the king's pain. She provided him comfort. She birthed his only living child. In return, he furnished her family with lands and riches beyond any other. Yet, he did not seek Chelsea's hand in marriage. The kingdom waited, certain that the day would come when the mistress would become the queen.

Now, that title was soon to be bestowed upon Abigail Remington. She was an exquisite beauty. Her skin was dark like clay. Her hair was large and spiraled as if it were a bundle of thread. Her face was angular in shape with cheeks as round as a newborn's. Her soft eyes shined with innocence. Her plush lips smiled happily. As soon as Abbie arrived, the king could see no other woman. It did not take long for him to set Chelsea aside. The kingdom filled with anticipation. There was to be a wedding mass grandeur. Abbie was the victor in the game for Maxwell's affections.

Now, the day was upon them. Abbie's chamber thrived with activity. There were maids assigned to tend to her gown. It was a wonderfully designed garment made of white silk with lace-trimmed sleeves. The neckline was square allowing for Abbie to don lavish jewels around her neck. Jewels worn by prior Doraland queens. The bodice of the gown was meant to be fastened with pearls. There was a slit in the middle of the skirt revealing a silk underskirt of the royal color. Abbie's maids helped her into the beautiful gown. Its significance was hard to deny. Gone was the simple girl who arrived in the kingdom with innocent ignorance. The thought consumed her as she travelled in a carriage, crafted specifically for this day, to the largest cathedral in the country. The carriage was painted in gold with the royal crest, an apple surrounded by vines with a cross piercing through it and a crown surrounding it all, carved into its side. The king had spared no expense for this occasion. Despite the pope's disapproval, God seemed to be blessing the union. The sun shined bright despite the typical dreary weather Doraland was forced to endure in the winter. Inside the carriage, Abbie rode with her father.

"You are beautiful, Abigail." Thomas placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek before they stepped onto the stoned pathway. Abbie's breath was stilted as her body shook with nerves. Thomas squeezed her small hand in comfort. "Remember, my child, His Majesty loves you. He has chosen to marry you. That is all that matters." He reminded her patiently. Abbie nodded her head, veiled under a lace hood.

The father and daughter entered the cathedral. The golden doors were thrown open as the musician blew his horn. A gold rug was lain upon the aisle. Thomas led Abbie down it. Each step drew them closer to the eagerly awaiting king. Each step pulled her further from simplicity. With strength and eagerness, she continued forward. Her head was high. A smile was upon her face. Today, she would marry the man she loved before all his people. The pews were filled with nobility and diplomats from all of Europe. They had all traveled to witness His Majesty take his second wife. Thomas carefully handed Abbie over to Maxwell. The archbishop began to pray over them. They stood with both of their hands clasped in the other's. All persons focused upon them. The ceremony was long and intricate as was expected with a royal union. There were many prayers to be recited and hymns to be sung. Offerings were made to seek the blessing of a fertile union. Promises were spoken of faithfulness, obedience, kindness, and love. Abbie vowed to be Maxwell's humble and patient wife. He vowed to be her strong and loyal husband. With a last prayer beseeching God to protect the sanctity of the pair's marriage, the archbishop pronounced them man and wife. Eagerly Maxwell clasped Abbie's face and descended his lips upon hers. Their subjects rose and applauded. Luis, Maxwell's bastard brother, stepped forward holding a decorative chest in his hands. Maxwell turned to the chest and lifted the lid. Inside was an intricate tiara made of silver filled with bright jewels and stones. Carefully, Maxwell lifted the tiara high above his head so that all who were present could see it. Abbie bowed her head as Margaret, her brother's wife, removed the lace hood she wore gently. An anticipatory silence filled the cathedral. Maxwell stood behind Abbie. An eager smile ruled his handsome face. With slow precision, he placed the tiara upon her head. Their subjects, now upon their feet, bowed.

"Spectators behold, His Majesty, Maxwell Beckham, and Her Majesty, Abigail Beckham, King and Queen of Doraland." The people cheered for their new queen. Maxwell smiled proudly as he clasped his wife's hand and led her to down the aisle to their awaiting carriage.

With orchestrated timing, the mass journeyed from the cathedral to the white stone castle for the celebratory feast. It was a feast grander than any other. It was not a simple union of man and woman which had occurred. Two royals married. Abbie was a princess in her own right. A title bestowed upon her by none of other than her husband as a sign of defiance against the Vatican's intolerant behavior. During the reception, musicians played merry songs celebrating love and marriage as if they were one and the same for everyone. Those who were in attendance danced and cried with joy.

Maxwell rose to his feet and extended his hand to his new bride. "Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance?" His voice was loud reaching the ears of everyone present. They stopped to watch their king and queen.

Abbie rose with a gleeful expression. "The honor is mine, Your Majesty."

Maxwell took her hand with a bow of his waist. "Your Majesty." The people cleared the floor so that their king and queen could dance together without meddling. The flute sounded signaling the beginning of a new song. Their steps began. All was merry. All was right. All were delighted.

"Our daughter is a queen." Thomas spoke to his wife. "Can you believe it?"

Cadhla observed her daughter dancing with the king. "Abbie has always been meant for great things. She descends from royalty." Cadhla was very much weary of Maxwell. As a king, she considered him to be honorable. As a man, he was selfish. Since their arrival in Doraland, Cadhla watched Maxwell use one girl for fleshly pleasures while pursuing another. All the court celebrated the union, but Cadhla anticipated trouble.

Maxwell and Abbie danced through many songs before returning to their seats upon the dais. Their guests approached them with offers of congratulations and gifts to bestow. It was nearly time for the consummation. Abbie's body filled with nervous anticipation. Without expectation, a chamber man rushed into the grand hall. Urgency guided his steps towards the king. Maxwell was speaking fondly with Abbie when he noticed the flustered man. Gingerly he waved him forward.

"I have an imperative word for you, sire." Maxwell nodded for the messenger to continue. Silence fell over the hall as they listened to the announcement. "Lady Chelsea has given birth... to a boy." Abbie's breath stilted once more. Her hands clenched. This was no coincidence. Somehow Chelsea had purposefully birthed her son, the king's son, the day of his nuptials.

"When did this occur?" Maxwell questioned in a hardened voice. It was too soon for the baby to be born.

"Mere hours ago." The man answered with his head bowed.

"Who sent word?" Abbie demanded surprising all. No one expected her to speak on the matter.

The messenger turned to her. "Word came from Lord Charles."

Thomas's eyes narrowed. "My brother knows no bounds in his plotting." His voice was thick with anger.

Maxwell propped his chin upon his ringed hand. Silently, he dismissed the messenger. The musicians had stopped playing their instruments. The people stopped dancing. All waited to see what the king would decide. Suddenly, he rose to his feet. Quickly, the people bowed in respect. "Lord Thomas, Lord Byron, come with me." He ordered as he descended the dais hurriedly. The men obeyed.

Abbie watched her husband make his hasty departure. Her mind filled with questions. Was he leaving their reception to go be with Chelsea? If he left, would he eventually return to court with Chelsea by his side? Maxwell could choose to dissolve their marriage to claim Chelsea's son as his heir. He would face no opposition. There had been no consummation of their union. It was not yet unbreakable. The pope would support his decision. The people would understand. The needs of the king came before the wants of the man.

Cadhla appeared before her daughter. She stood so that no one could see Abbie's face marred with distress. "Do not cry. Do not allow tears to fall upon your cheeks. You are a royal. You are the queen. You are not weak, Abigail. I have raised you to be strong. You will not cower at the petty games of a simple girl. Show these people your strength." Her voice was hard, but her eyes were soft with love.

Abbie inhaled deeply and straightened her posture on the throne. Cadhla stepped aside. The queen rose to her feet. "Let us continue with our celebration." She snapped her fingers ordering the musicians to play their instruments. Quickly, they obeyed.

Robert Tidwall stepped forward. "Your Majesty, would you like to dance?" He offered her his hand. He was ever the gentleman. Even in defeat, he still strived to cause a smile to take place on her gorgeous face.

Abbie gave a demure smile and accepted his offer. She descended the dais and allowed herself to be swept into the dance. She did not cry. She did not run to her chambers to hide. She did not shy away from the people's whispered gossip and speculations. She was strong and confident. She was every part of the queen she had only just become, although, her heart ached.

~~*~~

Maxwell entered his study with heavy steps. Thomas and Byron followed him. Moments later, Luis appeared as well. Maxwell stomped to his writing table and slammed his hands upon it. Frustration tightened his body.

"What shall you do, Your Majesty?" Thomas questioned.

"Chelsea is no doubt expecting my arrival." The king voiced. He was angry. This day was supposed to be for him and Abbie. Chelsea and her father were attempting to ruin it. Maxwell did not doubt that they had orchestrated this moment. It was another ploy of theirs to return Chelsea to his side.

"Max, you have to make a decision." Luis prodded his brother. "You must either go to Chelsea or return to Abbie."

Maxwell shook his head. "If only it were that simple."

Byron stepped forward cautiously. "I have a suggestion. What if I were to go to Chelsea? I can confirm the birth of the child and assure that all is well."

Maxwell stood and turned to his brother-in-law. "Are you willing to do so?"

Byron nodded his head. "Chelsea is manipulative. Charles is a plotter. I am sure, as we are all probably suspecting, that they have used some trick to make the child come sooner. I would rather leave this celebration to assess the situation, than have Your Majesty be pulled away from your marriage night."

Maxwell closed his eyes with a heavy expel of breath. "My departure would no doubt upset Abbie. She does not deserve to be deserted on this of all nights. Yes, Byron, you will go. Send word if my presence is needed immediately. Luis, go with him. I do not trust Charles, and you know those lands better than anyone. Guards will accompany you both."

"I will gather the retinue." Luis announced. Maxwell rubbed his hand along his face. He had shaved his facial hair for this day. It was rare for him to do so during the cold months. Luis stepped forward and clasped his brother's shoulder. "You have made the right decision, Max."

"I know I have." Maxwell spoke confidently. He made strides towards the exit of the study. "If you gentlemen would excuse me, I have a wife to return to." Thomas followed the king leaving behind Luis and Byron.

"What do you think they have done?" Luis questioned.

Byron's eyes narrowed. "Neither is a stranger to pagan medicine."

Luis nodded his head. "Maxwell must consummate his marriage tonight. The Vatican is watching."

Pope Francis had departed the kingdom after the new year arrived leaving behind members of his retinue. If Maxwell went to Chelsea without first laying with Abbie, the pope would cease his decision as reason to denounce the union. He would declare the king a traitor to the Vatican unless Maxwell took Chelsea as his wife. Such a declaration could result in further conflict for Doraland.

"Even with consummation, the pope could still oppose the union." Byron commented. He was no fool. He knew the pope was not fond of his sister. Many people were not simply because Abbie's skin was darker than their own.

"The kingdom cannot fight the Vatican alone. The Spanish and French would no doubt support the pope, and we are no friend to the English." Luis strategized as he and Byron made their way through the corridors. They were walking to the stables to set forth on their late journey.

Byron grinned suddenly. "How wonderful it must be that our queen is family to the leaders of the Watu Tukufu empire. The strongest empire outside of Europe. You are right, the kingdom cannot fight the Vatican alone, but we are not alone." There was a promise in his words. Abbie was not simply family to the leaders of the Watu Tukufu empire, she was favored by them. Her mother was favored. The emperor would fight if only to guarantee they were not harmed.

~~*~~

All were startled upon the king's return. Maxwell's eyes narrowed as they landed upon Robert Tidwall dancing with his wife. He quickened his strides. "Thank you, for providing Her Majesty with company, but your presence is no longer required." He took Abbie's hand from Robert's and pulled her to his side. His eyes focused on the man who held affection for the queen. He would never be fond of him.

Robert bowed his head respectfully. "It was my honor to dance with Her Majesty."

Abbie looked to Maxwell with wondering eyes. "Are you not journeying tonight?"

Maxwell gathered her face in his hands gently. "It is our wedding night. Here with you is where I belong." He brought his lips to hers. Their audience applauded. "Perhaps, it is time we concluded this celebration." Maxwell suggested with a hunger in his eyes. Abbie's hands began to shake. He gathered them in his own. "There is no need to fear, my love. I will take great care of you." His eyes moved past her beckoning Margaret forward. "I shall see be with you shortly."

Abbie turned to Margaret with wild eyes. "Will these people be in the bedchamber? Will they spectate the consummation?"

Margaret smiled carefully. "Not all of them." She responded as she guided Abbie from the grand hall to the Queen's apartments.

"Why?" Abbie questioned as Elizabeth appeared at her side.

"It is tradition. A royal consummation must be witnessed to provide for the legitimacy of any children bore in the marriage." Elizabeth explained as they ascended the staircase. "Abbie, you will not notice the spectators."

"It does not matter whether or not I will notice them. They will be there. I cannot ignore that."

The three women entered the bedchamber designated for the queen. Maids were present and waiting. Abbie undressed. Her grandly designed wedding gown was replaced with a simple dewy-brown sleeping frock. The tiara was removed from her head. Her hair was released from its intricate braids so that it could cascade around her face. The jewelry she wore was removed as well. Her feet were bare. A wool over-gown was placed upon her shoulders and fastened at the neck with leather string.

"You are ready." Dana announced with a timid smile. She could feel the new queen's anxiety. She sympathized. Yet there was no way around this moment. It was tradition. An important tradition dating farther back than any of their lives.

Cadhla placed a kiss upon Abbie's cheek. The mother smoothed her daughter's hair before Abbie exited the bedchamber. With trepid steps, Abbie made her way to the king's chambers. Dana and Margaret flanked her. Abbie had been to Maxwell's presence chamber before. They had dined privately there and played cards. She had never been to his bedchamber. When she arrived, the chamber was filled with people. Abbie lowered her head and made her way to Maxwell. He was kneeling on a prayer pillow before the archbishop who officiated their nuptial union. She kneeled beside him. The archbishop prayed asking God to bless the queen and king with fertility, so their union may produce an heir. No one said it to her, but Abbie knew they wanted her to bear a child soon. Maxwell now had two bastard children who he recognized throughout the kingdom. If Abbie did not give birth to an heir, he would have reason to set aside their marriage. Just as swiftly as she became queen, she could lose the position. Chelsea would happily take her place.

Maxwell rose to his feet and took Abbie's hand into his own. He led her to his awaiting bed. The over-gown was removed from her shoulders. Ruby curtains were hanging from the posts of the bedframe. The curtains were pulled back, the covers turned down, and the pillows placed so that they could be laid upon. Abbie was nervous. Despite Elizabeth's claim, she was very much aware of the spectators.

Maxwell turned to her patiently. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Abbie's soft voice answered. He kissed her lips and guided her to lay on the bed. Abbie gave in to him. She allowed Maxwell to lead her. She felt the covers being placed over them. She lay with her head on the pillows.

Maxwell laid over her trembling body. He bore his gaze on her face. "I love you, Abigail."

"And I love you." Her hand cupped his left cheek tenderly. The curtains were still open though it hardly mattered now. Maxwell moved his hands to the hem of Abbie's gown pushing it up as his large hands touched her bare skin. He kissed her lips softly before pulling away to rise on his haunches. Maxwell locked his eyes upon Abbie's as he untied his nightgown. Quietly, maids stepped forward and pulled the curtains enclosing them in faux privacy. Maxwell pulled his nightgown over his head tossing it aside. It landed outside of curtains amongst the spectators.

"Look at me." His husky voice sounded. One of his hands caressed Abbie's cheek while the other slid along the inside of her thighs. Abbie looked to her husband with her eyes looking upon his naked body. His days of hunting and jousting showed on his lean body. There was a smattering of dark hair scattered over his broad chest. He gathered her nightgown and dragged it up her body reveling in the feel of her warm skin. Meticulously, he removed the gown and tossed it over his shoulder. Abbie began to turn away from him, but he gripped her face. "Do not look away."

Flustered, Abbie nodded her head. "I will not look away." His hands caressed her body. Abbie squirmed at his touch, and still, he continued to stroke her. His hands were warm, yet she shivered as small bumps