The moment she saw him, smirking defyingly in front of the wig-wearing British men, every flashback emerged to the surface, the back of her eyelids being assaulted swiftly.

The crimson red hands of her mother, ripping out her sweat-glued hair, right before jumping out of the asylum window; the abandonment of her father, a man upon whom she had never laid eyes; the shameless, disgracious fingers of her abuser roaming on her fear-stricken body.

The demons were back, concealing themselves in the villainous eyes of her tormenter. Greasy, mid-length raven hair covered most of his forehead, almost reaching his shoulders. His lips were bitten, nearly corroded, and his teeth were not only beer-stained, but also implanted with gold. As he moved his head to the right side, she noticed a skull earring piercing his lobe, followed by other tiny metal buds up his entire ear. His nails were blood-red, as if he has been grazing himself or a hard surface right before the court session started. His protruding collarbone was visible through his black, cross-designed T-shirt.

He looked and acted like the devil himself, and Freya quivered so violently, that the bench she was standing on soon matched her tremble. Julian, although being on the other side – men and women were separated in the courtroom – sensed her mood swing and changed places.

Her husband put one hand around her love-handled waist, the other gripping her spasmodic palms. His lips were so close to her ear, that she almost heard his veins pulsating blood to his heart.

"Focus on my voice and nothing else. No one can hurt you as long as I am here. No one can hinder that provocative personality of yours. No one can make you feel inferior, for you are my goddess, my queen, my saviour, my wife, but above all... my love. You are the one I want to write songs and poems about, to cherish and worship until the day I offer my soul to God. You are the one that keeps my limbs together – my brain, my heart, my lungs, my everything. Anyone who states otherwise – even myself, sometimes – is damnable and potty. A bloody fool."

During his body-melting speech, she laid her forehead on his shoulder blade, breathing in his pine-scented cologne. She focused solely on him, so that when her abuser protested and cursed her entire blood line, she could no longer hear him. All she could perceive was Julian's equally rhythmic heart, throbbing alongside hers, two fistfuls of flesh merging into one another.

At the end of the court session, her abuser was found guilty and imprisoned for life. The sentence should have been shorter, but the Duke put pressure on the judge and he dared not object. Freya's visage remained buried in the crook of Julian's neck when her abuser walked past her, tight cuffs surrounding his wrists.

It was all over. Freya whispered a shy „Thank you" to her husband. The Duke of Westbroke nodded courtly, a glint of fear still present in his eyes. He was greeted as gallantly, although Julian's knuckles turned white.

The royal couple went home and took a nap before the newspapers would boil again. The judge somehow managed not to disclose Freya's status as a victim, therefore the press was curious and confused about the royalty's involvement.

When they woke up from the loud buzz of the alarm, Freya was in a much better state, even able to crack half a smile when Julian complimented her looks.

"Can I take Sophie to the Grand Library?" She asked in a meek tone, rubbing her eyes and stretching her stiff limbs.

Julian changed his shirt, his abs pulsating as he pressed the soft fabric down his torso. Closing the gap between them, Julian cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb on her plump flesh.

"Are you sure? You seem exhausted." He asked and observed all at once, a concerned, yet comforting smile expanding from one corner of his mouth to the other.

"Helping people is my shelter. Well... my second shelter." She stated, kissing his barely visible dimple. Although he felt the green-eyed monster creeping in just a little, he brushed it off and kissed her dimples as well.

"Alright. Tell John to fetch her over and be moderate in your enthusiasm. The scars from your morning encounter are still fresh." His feathery, almost paternal voice instructed.

Freya nodded willingly, content with his tender consideration. She put on a random dress, careless of her on-the-spot appearance, and walked towards the door.

"I love you." She uttered, turning mid-way.

I love you too. He thought, no words but a half-smile escaping his mien.

Why would she tell him such a thing if he was unable to return her confession? Why would she crucify her last ounce of hope and turn sulky over an anticipated lack of words?

Bloody stupidity. She muttered under her breath, descending the stairs in a stern manner. Searching for John, she found him in the same document-flipper status as before.

"Why don't you leave those aside and have a chat with me?" She quizzed him, tilting her head warmly.

He put the dreadful pile of papers down, and replied according to the etiquette. "Of course, milady. How may I be of assistance?"

Freya approached him and put her hand on his work-burdened shoulder. "Didn't I tell you to be yourself?" She smiled quite motherly.

"Indeed." He smiled back.

"Can you tell Sophie to come and visit the Grand Library? Julian was more than enchanted to receive our proposal."

John's eyes widened, his every feature turning bright with excitement. He literally jumped on his mistress, hugging her until she began choking.

"Easy, easy."

"How can I be less than thrilled? You changed him, he loves you!"

"I beg your pardon?" Freya's high-pitched voice was boisterous in her own ears.

"Oh, never mind. I'll call Sophie right away. Give me a sec." The butler hesitated, shifting Freya's attention on something else.

Was he aware of something that the Duchess did not know?

"She'll be here in an hour."

Freya nodded politely and left the room, awaiting John's doll-faced niece. It was a wonder that children of that beautiful kind still existed. Maybe she should have Sophie in her classroom. It would be a brilliant opportunity for a knowledge-blotter such as herself.

She always blamed technology for stealing curious minds away from learning. Accustomed to receiving information simply by clicking a button, their ability to process, divide, and compile subjects was more than narrowed down – it almost reached the bottom level. 21st century youth was so easily manipulated that the great heroes of the previous epochs would lie restlessly in their graves. Where was the yearning to pursue ambitious dreams? Where was the real, unconverted voice of the generation that was supposed to restore the blooming times?

In the hard drive of a laptop, I presume.

Feeling anger slowly clenching her belly, Freya went to the kitchen and grabbed a chocolate mousse from the fridge. Sweets were always her salvation slash damnation – they were most likely the reason why she never looked like the hyperbolic health-driven peers of her age.

Alas, what a pity. She scoffed in disdain, licking the almond flakes off the top. The first mouthful of chocolate was core-tightening. It melted so divinely in her welcoming mouth, that her sweet tooth instantly begged for more.

Before she could even pronounce one stanza from her favourite poem, she finished the Heaven-filled bowl and moaned in utter content. Why would anyone renounce such a pleasure? She asked rhetorically, her reasoning as stubborn as a mule.

"Julian loves my body either way." Her thought materialized as she put down the spoon in the sink.

A sudden movement of tongue stilled her. It was Julian, his pelvis pressed to her back, deepening the hickey he gave her a few days ago.

"Yes, I do." He answered huskily, nibbling at her ear.

Freya slapped his hand playfully, rubbing her rear teasingly. Julian's member responded impatiently, chafing for more, but knowing that Sophie was to arrive.

"Damn your empathy, my love. It always gets in our way."

Freya escaped the herculean arms snaked around her waist, moving her appetizing arse ever so slowly until she faced Julian in all her mocking glory.

"Maybe it is a sign to stop thinking with your other head." She winked, leaving the kitchen as she heard the door bell.

The moment I will confess my love to you, it will be more panties-dropping than any member-plunging you could ever fantasise about. He vowed, proceeding to welcome the Lilliputian guest.

"You must be Sophie! My wife told me about your passion for books and we thought we could surprise you. Did we succeed?" His honey-dripping lips uttered.

"Not until I see the library." The little, curly-haired girl responded cheekily.

They all chuckled in unison, her mother watching her offspring tenderly.

"Would you like to stay, madam?" Freya inquired, inviting her to a cup of tea.

Sophie's mother and John's daughter smiled honorably, joining her hands with great politeness.

"It would be a privilege, milady, but I must return to work. Thank you so much for this lucky circumstance. If you will excuse me..." She bowed down, her blonde curls falling on her creased forehead.

Poor woman. Freya thought, leading the mother back to her car and making her promise that she would consider moving Sophie to her classroom.

The Duchess returned in less than no time and extended her hand to Sophie's delicate frame. The beaming girl smiled from one ear to the other, putting her plum-sized palm in Freya's grasp.

"Shall we?"

The Grand Library was behind a guilded, thirteen feet door, embellished with Victorian patterns and a ruby-stoned handle. It was among the most luxuriant libraries of the entire Great Britain, gathering a quarter of the rarest books in Europe. Even the Queen would borrow several books from time to time.

As soon as the door was opened, Sophie gasped, covering her doll mouth with her chubby arm. Her steps were small and light, for she feared the magic hidden in that room would disappear at a harsher touch.

There were four levels, each connected by stairs on each side of the bookshelves. The center of the room had a mahogany round table, encircled by chairs of the same wood species. It looked like Arthur's knights would seat down in just a minute and enjoy a quality reading. A chandelier hovered from the flourished ceiling, hundreds of delicate crystals scattering light from their facets.

Julian experienced a totally different feeling than the previous hours spent in the library. Seeing Freya holding hands with Sophie, pointing at leather volumes and showing the girl how to properly smell old books was a portrait of how he desired his future to be – his wife teaching their first child to read and fondling her second baby bump as she stepped in between bookshelves.

It was a sight slowly conturing at the back of his skull, so exquisite and splendid that his heart leaped joyfully. How could he not love a woman so God-carved, so devoted that she would sacrifice everything to see others happy?

"Freya?" Julian asked, making his wife turn around.

"Yes?" The corners of her lush lips went upwards, revealing her signature smile.

"I love you too."