"I must admit, I have not expected such a proper choice, Julian. Your wife is indeed one of a kind, which is quite odd, considering you failed to make useful decisions so far. I hope this is going to last, for I reckon you will not find such an opportunity again." The former Duke, to whom Julian bore an unsurpassed wrath, was a presence no one could not ignore.

As the ceremony of the royal marriage ended in a pompous round of applause, Freya succumbed into a pensive mood that made her lose touch with the surroundings. The exorbitance of her attire did not match the cheap feeling of entering a world she would never fully comprehend. Despite the fairytale allure of the protocol, she could see behind the mask everyone has sculpted rigorously. The guests, the renowned faces of the even more acknowledged royalty, displayed a fallacy that made Freya's lips drip with venom - the kind of venom only visible to initiates, such as Julian himself, who cringed every time his father started a new phrase.

At last, the newly-fabricated Duchess realized the contrast between Julian and his father. On the surface, they held a precise resemblance to one another, but deep down, beneath all those layers of carefully-trimmed diplomacy, an abyss stood in all its glory, eating away both of their hearts.

Freya leaned against Julian's shoulder and whispered into his ear, noticing a light shudder spreading through her husband's entire body. "Why don't we leave?" She inquired, as Julian's muscles flexed at the sight of his father flirting with a waitress.

"We cannot leave the party, Freya. As much as this idea incites me, we have a duty."

Freya insisted one more time. "Can we at least go to the balcony and get some fresh air?"

Julian sighed wearily, rubbing his temples as he raised from the chair. His wife stood up as well and they both headed towards the marble-embedded balcony, oblivious of the guests' stares.

Breathing the fresh air, as it filled their nostrils, they both felt at ease. There was a certain intimacy to that context. It was a simple and comfortable silence that was appreciated with much ardour. Julian gasped unexpectedly, as if he remembered something of great importance. He inserted his hand in the pocket of his tuxedo and held his phone, while dialing a number and excusing himself for interrupting the moment.

"Is she here?" He asked, his forehead slightly creasing while waiting for the answer. After a couple of seconds, he ended the call, gazing at Freya as a prelude to his subsequent rejoinder.

"Would you like to accompany me outside?" He extended his arm to an extremely curious Freya, who unhesitantly came to his side.

Reaching the aisle outside the building, Freya saw a car parked in front of her. As the door opened, she noticed Maeve slowly stepping out of the vehicle. Gasping at the sight of her best friend holding a bouquet of lilies, Freya literally jumped on her, the bouquet dropping to the concrete as she snaked her arms around Maeve's waist.

The old lady's giggle filled the air, and Julian found himself as content as the two ladies embracing each other in front of him. He had no idea it would be that easy to steal a smile from Freya - a smile that was indeed the most breath-taking expression of one's happiness. He approached them and placed a hand on Freya's shoulder, watching her intently as she took a step back from Maeve.

His wife's eyes were disarming. He was trapped under her scrutiny, for her two almond orbs expressed more than just gratitude for his selfless act. It almost felt like her eyes were smiling, the kind of smile that warms you to your core and reminds you of a child receiving her birthday present. It was delightful.

"Thank you, Julian." He gulped nervously as he heard his own name rolling off her tongue. Always being referred to as milord, her calling held an intensity as sweet as honey. What on Earth am I thinking about? His conscience yelled, keeping the temptation under control. She is a person, not a bloody cake!

He nodded, motioning for the two ladies to enter the Central hall. Joining the other guests, Maeve introduced herself, and everyone else smiled sympathetically, as if she were a charity ward. That assumption brought Freya a new wave of anger, which she controlled quite delicately, considering that her grip on her glass tightened to the extremes. After a few seconds of torturing silence, the royalty resumed their futile chatter. Maeve and Freya started whispering to each other, an intimate conversation to which Julian furtively listened.

"You are quite a Duchess, aren't you? And your husband is..." Maeve playfully licked her lips, a gesture that earned a proud smirk on Julian's face. "... challenging. How do you cope with such a powerful character?"

Freya fidgeted in her seat, filled with a visible, yet subtle tension. "Most of my time, I am struggling not to murder him, but there are certain perks that I am always looking forward to."

"Such as?"

"Any conversation with him is pure gold. Despite us being at odds with each other, his words are welcoming. His intellect intrigues me and leaves me wanting more of his mind. Unfortunately, it is a destructive desire, for he locks his feelings and never actually speaks his mind."

"You'd prefer to hear him uttering the truth, even if it may hurt?" Maeve asked, her pitched voice holding some degree of disbelief.

Freya chuckled, a low sound that brought Julian a not so innocent thought. He was amazed by her ability to commit to her principles, and he wanted to learn that too, but he was aware that he would eventually overstep his boundaries - limits that, nevertheless, were self-imposed. He would have listened to her answer if his father had not rudely interrupted, much to Julian's dismay.

"Have you closed the deal?" The former Duke inquired, provoking a snarl from his son.

Julian sometimes closed his eyes to certain misdemeanours, but such a request was clearly absurd. "No. Your only status is that of a legend, so you do not have a say in this matter. I choose what I accept and what I deny."

By the time Julian finished his sentence, guests suspended their conversation and focused on Julian's exchange of retorts. The former Duke cleared his throat, visibly content with the attention they were both receiving, and eager to undermine his son's authority.

"How about your wife's duty? I have understood that she is quite indocible. You would not want to upset the royalty, would you?" There was a slyness in his voice that literally made Freya stiffen.

However, the Duchess remained neutral, sensing Julian's increasing anger. She could not add any more gasoline to the fire that was about to ignite.

"She knows her responsibilities, there is no such trait as insubordination." If it was not for Julian's flawless lying ability, he would have been perceived unjustly, as a man who could not bridle his wife.

"Well, let's see." His father simpered, extending his hand to invite Freya in the conversation. At the sight of Freya nodding her head, Julian silently prayed that she plays her part perfectly.

"Do you feel like I have judged you wrongly?" The former Duke asked. Unfortunately for him, Freya noticed the trap behind his question and adjusted herself to an appropriate answer.

"I would not dare to accuse you of misjudgment." She smiled sweetly, despite the poisonous retort she was actually thinking about. "I am a woman aware of her status. Therefore, I would never exceed my duty, for the rightful owner of such a luxury is my husband." She seriously debated whether or not she should launch herself to his throat, but she fortunately dismissed her intention and threw another knee-melting smile.

Julian exhaled relievedly, hollowing his lungs. Thank you, God! He then raised up, holding a glass of champagne whose content he rather preferred to empty on his father.

"Sharing similarities to another human being is one of the most valuable blessings in life. Therefore, I toast for my wife, to whom I could listen endlessly, without losing interest or fascination. Thank you!" He uttered, facing Freya with a dazzling, yet heartfelt smile.

He slightly exaggerated his statement, but the background remained the same. She did make his life more bearable, although he had no attraction towards spitting retorts they both gradually regretted.

Freya herself stood up and planted a feathery kiss on his cheek, leaving the contour of her lips in a perfect red shape. She intended to enhance the glorious show they were performing, but truthfully, she wanted to kiss him. Not a full tongue-locking kiss, but one that would prove him she is not going to retreat in a shell. In fact, she was to break his shell, and relish at the victory of unearthing the true depths of his mind.

She chuckled at her own thought and entwined her fingers in his, taking a quick, but somehow thorough glance at all the guests. A sudden weariness overwhelmed her and she clung tighter to the hem of his tuxedo, which made Julian's eyes turn darker with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"I cannot stay here much longer. Let's go and take Maeve back to the center, please." She uttered, her voice a soft whisper laced with anticipation.

He nodded, gave his father a murderous look and motioned Maeve to accompany the royal couple as they left the building, careless about the impropriety of the action. Although at most events, they were supposed to leave early, the party succeeding the marriage was not exactly avoidable. However, he would have rather faced burdening consequences than remain a single minute in the company of such dreadful people.

"Thank you again." Freya said, a frown appearing on her face. When did I start thanking him so frequently? Her conscience inquired, while her body surrendered to a sleepy state that left room to Maeve's own statement.

"You do realize how much she admires you, don't you?" The snow-haired lady asked, placing her wrinkled hand on Julian's shoulder.

He slightly flinched, but he soon recomposed his posture, clearing his throat as he debated on his answer.

"Yes, I do, but I cannot let anything else intervene."

"So you blatantly admit there is a chance for you to fall in love with her."

"Is that a question or an affirmation?" He filled the car with a bass voice that held a subtle emotion.

"It is a certainty. Due to Freya's change of perception, she became cynical and I actually thought she was going to resent everyone. But you..." She made a pause to emphasize her analysis. "... you showed her that the beauty of a conversation still exists."

Julian heaved purposely, feeling his boundaries overstepped. "You sound as if I have known her for quite some time, but I have concretely stood by her side for a couple of days. I do not know her."

Maeve chirped. "But you want to, as much as her."

I should change the steering wheel. He thought as he gazed at his hands clenching the scratched leather material of the wheel. He remained silent, but Maeve did not take the hint and continued her speech, with even more vigour than before.

"Actually, you have known her for three months, ever since you have decided to marry a woman chosen by your people. Inquiring about her status, her passions, her behaviour felt like knowing her face-to-face. It doesn't take physical presence to form a bond."

As much as he despised admitting the rightness of her reasoning, he had to - at least internally. He suddenly remembered John's words after the butler returned from one of Freya's classes.

"This woman..." - he said affectedly – "... is going to be your saviour, milord. She will be your knight in shining armour, if such an analogy is permitted. You will eventually fall for her, and your love will exceed any possible connotations, for you will resonate with her like no one else."

He shook his head, dismissing the flashback that was more or less intrusive. I refuse to succumb to such a petty feeling, Julian promised to himself. Redirecting his focus on the road ahead, he observed the woods in all their glory, with green-laced trees whose solid branches almost reached the firmament. Strangely enough, that particular vision brought Julian a sense of relief, which was extremely yearned for, considering the prior conversation.

Approximately an hour later, Maeve and the royal couple reached the destination. It was actually an estate, constituted of two buildings and a hundred acres of virgin land, full of plants, rendez-vous benches, chess tables, even swings. Julian gulped in awe, for he would have never imagined such exquisite surroundings. There was a contrast between the white colour contouring the main building and the green one outside of it, but it was harmonious nevertheless. A blonde-haired woman, possibly a few years older than Freya, welcomed them as her eyes slyly lit up at the sight of Julian.

"Maeve, you have such interesting friends." She observed, slightly gritting her teeth as her eyes met Freya's gaze. "And you, Freya, newly-wedded, ha? Am I supposed to bow down in front of you?"

Julian's fists clenched ferociously and he took a step forward, making the blond woman retreat as her gaze lowered. "She is my wife and you will respect as much as you respect me. Is that clear?" He stated, his voice as cold and ruthless as a swirling wind.

The woman nodded and pointed towards Maeve's room. She did not follow them, obviously, although her scrutiny could not shift away from Julian's herculean body.

Maeve's room was an abundance of light and joy, the kind of emotion that was supposed to engulf childhood memories. Pale colours traced the contours of the walls, and the bed was covered in a knitted blanket. Freya's mouth slightly curved when noticing the blanket.

"Did you make it?" She asked, trying to remember if she ever saw it during her frequent visits.

"Yes, I made it for you, actually. Although Julian would be a much better blanket, if you know what I mean." Maeve winked playfully, and Freya blushed as she realized the erotic connotation of her friend's statement.

Surprisingly, Julian chuckled as he took a step forward and placed his hand on Maeve's back. "You sure are a lovely old lady." He uttered, revealing pearly white teeth.

His throaty voice made Freya exhale deeply. Her lungs were no longer roses with thorns, but flowers whose petals could not wilt. How could a man of his caliber sound so pure and raw? Just like a boy gazing at the sun, with his eyes half-closed, wondering if he could ever be that glowing.

"How about spending the night here?" Maeve inquired, clasping her hands together as if she were praying for approval.

Julian tensed, compiling all the possible inadequacies of that proposal. Of course, he would have brushed off his duty for a while, but would it be worth it?

"I would love to." Freya whispered, her voice a feathery remembrance of a symphony.

Julian heaved, as he breathed the scent of his wife's floral perfume. She need not wear any, for she is a flower herself. He thought, a warm wave of comfort clutching his senses. Yes, it would be worth it. He continued his reasoning, his eyes never leaving Freya's curvy frame.

For the next two hours, Freya and Maeve spoke of their passions, to which Julian listened joyfully. He has always been more of a listener, although his speeches were grandiose nevertheless. He could not complain much, for nobody actually showed interest in anything he ever cared for.

As if that fact was intricately comprehended by Freya, she popped a question that Julian would have never anticipated.

"What about you, milord? What is your shelter?" She uttered his status as if it were a forbidden fruit, the one that tasted the sweetest.

The Duke cleared his throat, obviously surprised by such a sudden enquiry. "Why would you care?" He responded with another question, his tone not harsh, but curious.

Freya gave a half smile, almost motherly. "Because you are in love with knowledge yourself, so I reckon you have a passion that includes it."

"Art. Both music and painting." He answered simply, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Let me guess. You are a pianist." The exchange of words left Maeve in a content state, almost a hieratic one.

Julian raised his eyebrows and the soft creases on his forehead rendered a human aura to his usual harsh expression. Freya noticed his gesture and explained herself, careful not to divulge the essence of her feelings – the ones that were gradually increasing, much to her confusion.

"Well, I have two arguments – one is rational, the other is more or less shallow." She made a pause, making sure that Julian was still listening – which he did, as if the whole universe depended on her words.

"First of all, the simple structure of your hands hinted your being a pianist. While you were toasting, twice I believe, I noticed the delicacy of your fingers, which held the glass in the most thoughtful way, as if that glass breathed and lived just like a human." Freya inhaled hungrily, preparing herself for the next explanation, about which she felt quite embarrassed. "Second of all, your talent with... the female specimens gave me a clue about your musical talent."

Julian smirked like he owned the world, pleased to notice the rosy colour of her cheeks and the quiver of the lips she has nervously bitten. "Continue." He said, approaching her to the point where their bodies were practically merged into each other.

"I thought that a man capable of caressing a woman's body so meticulously would bring the same delightful pressure to the keys of a piano." She finished her deduction, not quite able to face his grinning expression.

With her eyes glued to the floor, Freya had not noticed the wave of his hand, hinting Maeve to leave the room for a while. The old lady smiled knowingly and conformed to his desire. With her friend gone, Freya took some time to realize that she had been trapped.

"Your reasoning is flawless, milady." He purred his words, intently gazing at Freya, who took a few steps backwards until she found herself plastered to the wall. The wall, again?! She mentally asked, as flashbacks of their kiss unfolded in her vision.

She never quite comprehended the power of a touch, but she somehow felt, deep within her heart, that a kiss, their kiss, was more meaningful. It almost seemed like the words they had both been missing were uttered during those blissful moments; like the war they fought with their own selves collided in a truce – a mutual understanding of their affinity towards each other, their need to bond, the bond itself.

"I shall take your words as a compliment."

"They are meant to be one, milady." His fingers traced the soft skin of her shoulders, descending until they reached her hand and rubbed caring circles against it. Freya slightly shuddered, her breath pacing as his lips nibbled her ear lobe.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she feared she would hurt the air.

Julian smiled and brought his face inches away from her, relishing at the specks of gold painting her eyes.

"I was just testing you, as I remember you have been quite affected by the kiss." He answered, a full-on smile curling the corners of his luscious lips.

Freya shook her head, placing her hands on his chest to distance herself. Oddly enough, her hands had not moved. Instead, they trailed the buttons of his shirt, tempted to open them. Julian's breaths escalated, but he did not act upon his intention of kissing her senselessly, for he knew, in that moment, that another kiss would bring him closer to the destruction of his heart's walls.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, trying to think of a compromise that would partially satisfy him. "Why don't you tell me more about your teaching?" He inquired, anticipating the soft lullaby of her pure voice.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her rounded face, as she fidgeted nervously. It had always been a subject that brought the most unexpected clash of emotions.

"Well, when I was in the ninth grade, I realized that I was an oddity. A bookworm, as all the others used to call me. I loved reading – not the books that the syllabus imposed, but rusty old pages binding meaningful stories. I also enjoyed writing, although my teachers did not appreciate my style. They used to say that I did not fit their requirements, and my rage, the wrath they unearthed, came to closure on the last day of high-school, when I published a very spiteful poem in the local newspaper. I believe it is pointless to add that while some of my colleagues congratulated my attempt of rebellion, the professors scribbled my name on their death list. And a year later, when I met my English teacher in a supermarket, he feigned the loss of balance and threw some products on me. Very mature of him, I know."

She made a pause, catching her breath, which she lost as soon as she met his unsettling scrutiny. His smile reassured her of his attention and she continued, matching the curves of his lips. "I decided to become a teacher for pupils who shared my oddity, because I wanted to offer them the possibility that I never had – that of accepting their talent and promoting it regardless of the obstacles they would face."

Julian was unable to shift his gaze away from her glorious features. He met a lot of women, most of them promiscuous and seductive, but Freya – she held another sort of allure. She could seduce him with her words, an ability that scared him more than physical attraction, for it reached the most important part of him – his mind. What are you doing to me, Freya? He inwardly asked, hoping that his walls would not shatter so quickly.

"What about you? Tell me more about your piano passion." Her question brought his attention back to the present state – to her mesmerizing lips, to be exact – and he swore he could feel his cheeks burning. Don't be such a girl, Julian, focus!

"It started as an obligation. Being a royal, I had to play an instrument to entertain the guests at parties. We already had a piano, so becoming a pianist was natural, I suppose. But later, when I realized my father's rotten soul, I played it for his sake, because I swear I would have jumped to his throat the first time I have noticed..." He clenched his fists. "... anyway, the piano was my true friend, as sadly as it may sound."

"I would love to hear you play some day." Her desire materialized, igniting an idea in Julian's mind.

"I could play for you right now. I have noticed the main hall had a piano in one corner. I reckon the blonde woman would not mind."

He must have witnessed a chimera, but her face looked like it hid the sun itself. She jumped like a kid and almost hugged him, but Julian thanked God that she did not. I could not handle her touch right now. He explained to himself, opening the door and waiting for her to leave first.

Maeve was right there, as if she had been listening to their conversation – both Julian and Freya hoped she had not – and by the time the Duke explained his intention, a wide smile spread across Maeve's old, but genuine features.

"Let's go!" The snow-haired lady said, and they all reached the whereabouts of the piano in no time. The other members of the Center were present, chatting or playing chess, but they all gathered around the royal couple as Julian placed his fingers on the keys of the piano.

An enchanting melody soon filled the room, the vibrating octaves of an unrecognizable song engulfing everyone's senses. It seemed as if the beating hearts of two generations, the old one and the youthful one, collided into a single throb of life. Freya's own heart melted, as she surrendered to the bliss rendered by Julian's fingers. She eventually realized that the song he was playing was personal both literally and figuratively, for it was his own creation. A symphony of grief, unrequited love, and despair; a vow of rebellion against an ill society; a flicker of hope, a tiny bit of light glowing in the dark room of his mind.

By the time Julian finished, Freya's body was no longer her own, for tears ran freely on her cheeks, as she found herself unable to hinder them. In the heat of the moment, bearing no rational thought, she ran to him and laced her quivering fingers around his waist, snuggling as she breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne. Julian felt his heart sink a little, if not entirely, for he returned her embrace with much vigour, stroking her hair as he kissed her forehead. Levelling her gaze, he kissed her tears away. She quivered – a reaction not foreign anymore – and whispered words that Julian has never heard before.

"I am so proud of you!"

A round of applause soon followed her statement, and half an hour later, after saying "Good night!" to Maeve, Julian felt his heart blooming as he let Freya cuddle in his arms. The single-bed forced their bodies to unite entirely, but Julian did not mind anymore – and neither did Freya. She might have felt like things were rushing, like the time they spent together was too much of a fraction, but she understood that the shelter he was involuntarily offering was unrivalled.

That was the one of the many nights when she dreamed of beautiful things.