I sat on our bed and ran a hairbrush through my hair, which was more like a golden mess of a mane. I had been brushing it for little over a half an hour with no clear end in sight while I paged my way through this month's Chronicle, the only (meaning official) news source for the werewolf community. Although it was well after midnight when the loud hourly chiming from bell tower in Baylorsburg stopped, Dimitri still was seated rigidly at his desk. His back was arched, and he was hunched over an important copy of the weekly military and homeland security report. He had a pencil in his left hand, which he tapped against his forehead as he wracked his brain. In his other hand, which moved in ambidextrous motion, he held a pen, which didn't stop moving unless he was dipping it into the inkwell. He had deep purple bags underlining his eyes from lack of sleep.
For weeks, he had been making himself sick over trying to solve the military problem in the eastern part of the kingdom. He desperately searched for his father's approval, especially in this matter since it was his first major undertaking as the crown prince. His father's demands increased as the days went on, leaving me with the shell of the old Dimitri I knew. I would wait up for him and then wake to him pacing about our room or back at his desk.
I decided to get up, and immediately my bare feet were penetrated by the cold dark marble floor that seamlessly flowed throughout the whole castle. I set my hairbrush on the dresser before going out the two French doors that lead into Dimitri's study and our suite's sitting room. His back was to me as he sat swallowed up by the huge desks and tall piles of books and papers that surrounding him like a fort. The desk, like all the other wooden features like the dresser, the bedposts, and the doors, were made of a heavy mahogany wood that was stained a black color. I heard the sound of his pen moving, his pencil taping, and heavy sighing.
Through the white noise, I asked, "Are you going to come to bed?" He froze for a moment to ponder what I asked. He was too engrossed in his work that he hadn't heard me come in.
"Give me a minute," he replied, returning to his work.
I went closer to him and stood directly behind him. His handwriting, which normally flowed beautifully, looked like the etchings of a madman. "Dimitri, you're going to kill yourself," I said bluntly.
He frustratingly and tiredly in a harsh tone responded, "I'm fine!" He groaned into his hands and muttered something under his breath.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm just worried about you. Don't stay up much later please." I let him go and turned to retreat. "Goodnight!" I smoothly called back at him.
I was much too tired to argue with him; he was much too tired and stubborn right now to even want to talk to.
The lamp on his desk clicked off, and he loudly yawned. "Fine! I'm coming!" I smiled in the darkness at my success.
As I opened the French doors, light poured into the room. I blinked and blindly navigated my way to the huge four poster bed. I heard Dimitri shut the bathroom door behind him with a familiar click. Even though he was usually fairly careful and quiet, tonight that was true because he was noisy when he was tired. I picked the book I had long discarded later that night off of the silky top cover and shoved a slip of paper in it to mark my page before putting it on my nightstand. The light flicked off as I crawled beneath the covers, and momentarily, I was joined by my young, overworked mate and husband. The bed itself was huge, so it had ample room for the two of us. However, like tradition, a long and muscular arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me to the middle of the bed. Dimitri would never admit it and would all but kill me for saying it, but he was quite cuddly. No matter how angry or upset either of us would be, we ended close together.
He squeezed me tightly and growled, "Mine."
I smiled and nestled closer to him while wrapping my arms around his own that were around my waist. "I love you 'Mitri," I quietly said into the silence.
Dimitri mumbled back with his face buried in my neck, "I love you more."
Within seconds, Dimitri was snoring softly. For the first time in weeks, he had fallen asleep before me.
I was pleasantly surprised when I woke up to find that the sun had already risen. Oddly enough, Dimitri was still in bed and was using me as a pillow. He had feverish beads of sweat on his forehead and was breathing heavily. I was upset it didn't alarm me anymore; he, although never admitting his weakness to me, had frequent nightmares. I only knew, because once he shouted in his sleep, "No, stop! Please! Help!" I felt almost sick myself knowing his secret, but I never wanted to embarrass him by telling him that I knew. It was so uncharacteristic to his strong, serious, and protective personality. I lightly ran my hands through his soft hair. The sunlight landed upon him, causing some strands of his hair to be lighter and others darker also and on his face. He was very handsome with brown hair that was well kept but longer than most haircuts. However, he was slowly becoming ruined by work and burden. He had even aged in the past month with little wrinkles and lines appearing on his much too young twenty-year-old face.
"Good morning," I greeted him lightly as he stirred and woke up a little while later. He rolled over and groaned into his pillow, a morning habit. He then flipped over and sat up. His back cracked as stretched his arms to the sky. He leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek before getting up to take a shower. He didn't speak much in the mornings; it was a rare day whenever I was spoken to before he took a shower. He was tall and lean with a muscular build. A soft knock came at the door to which I responded, "Come in."
I pulled the comforter close around my body while a petite maid I knew as "Anne" shuffled in with a silver platter.
She had a quiet and soft voice, "Good morning, my lady!" She greeted me. She had an accent that sounded distantly like it was from England. "I'm quite sorry if I woke you earlier. Normally you're up before this! The Prince is usually in his study when I come." She was quite cheerful, but she also seemed scattered. She set the platter on the tray she had underneath her arm when she came in.
"Alicia," I heard a voice from the bathroom, "who are you talking to?"
"I best be off!" she responded with a smile and hurriedly retreated through the doors.
Dimitri came out of the bathroom with his hair still damp. He wore a white t-shirt that clung to his damp skin and a pair of gray sweatpants. He looked hurried, as he asked again, "Who were you talking to?"
"One of the maids," I responded, sitting crossed-legged on the edge of the bed. He went back in the bathroom and emerged in a few minutes with drier hair. He joined me and sat on our bed, pulling the tray in front of us. It was weird, but we rarely ever ate breakfast at a table. Dmitri mused that tables were used for important, stressful business. Then again, all parts of being royal are weird.