Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The world could scream its lungs out and he would not be able to bring himself to care. Not when he is within the fields of Uckfield, away from London, taking in the greenery and clear blue sky in front of him. The breeze carries a scent that is floral and woody. Complementing her perfume that must have been extracted from oils in Provence.
It quirks his lip up but, he does not tell her that he thinks this is where she is meant to be. Out and free.
Click.
The mechanical sound had him turn. Spotting a man's silhouette some yards away hiding behind the bushes. He sighed, they were never out and free.
"Do not mind them, Peter. "
He felt her hand come on top of his, beside her resting on the fence where she sat on, always there to catch her if need be. He did not realize how cold it has been until he felt her warmth. Much the same can be said of his life before her.
"We should head back, Ma'am. It is getting rather late."
Margaret nodded and leapt from the fence. He helped her onto the one horse they brought, before getting on the saddle behind her. Some more faint clicking ensued.
They were staying at a friend's house, Lord Rupert and Lady Camille, for the weekend. Fleed London as the morning paper called it, an indication that her marriage plans were going forward. He could only scoff at the notion. In his breast pocket was his parting gift to the princess, the statement of their decision not to marry. The Queen had already been informed, it was the only reason they were left this last concession.
They rode in silence, all he wanted was to sear in all of her details. Perhaps it was not so bad they had been photographed. He wonders if they had captured the details of her hair, he might even cut out the prints in tomorrow's paper. He allowed himself the mild satisfaction of knowing that come Monday morning, whatever photograph was taken of them would only be a relic of what was not to be.
"I do not want this day to end," she said.
"Neither do I."
"I am pregnant."
"Pardon?"
Peter reined his horse to a halt, disbelieving what he heard. Two years they had been apart. Two weeks since he had returned. He had been scared of what he will come back to but, she had rushed to him with open arms as soon as she'd seen him and all was well again. So eager to start the wedding preparations. Gradually, sense returned to him. He did not hate her he surmised but, he was numbed with disappointment.
"I see," he said simply,
He had thought she might have loved him, only now realising he was meant to be her shield from a bigger scandal. He would have helped her nonetheless, hurt constricted at his heart.
She tugged at her horse to walk until she was next to him; suddenly he hated being observed by the purple-blue eyes.
He looked over his shoulder before asking how far along she was. She did not answer and when he finally looked at her, he found her smiling. He frowned and leaned closer, only so he could speak with a lowered voice. "If we are to cover up your condition, it has to be within a plausible timeframe where I could, could have fathered it," the words caught in his throat. It was just impossible for it to be his.
"Today," she said, reaching for his face, staying his focus on her. "Let us say I am pregnant.
"Think about it, the prohibition at its core is on morality. They do not approve because you are a divorcee; we only need to give them a reason they cannot refuse. What greater scandal than a child out of wedlock, the couple marrying is always the prescribed action, as they wont to do." She rounded on him, bouncing on her toes, biting her bottom lip, and waiting for his reaction. There it was, the recklessness he fell in love with. A gust of breath escaped him in a laugh, and he can finally breathe again.
"You're impossible," he shook his head.
"I am not pregnant. But I could be. I might be, what with that journalist having proof we were together, away from prying eyes for a weekend. What could we ever be up to? Now that is not a difficult picture. We promised we will never marry anyone but, each other. What would they do when Princess Royal becomes with child out of wedlock? What would Lilibet do?"
"You will make your sister regret ever allowing you to come here."
"I will make her regret ever getting in our way."
His darling princess, fighting to the very end. This creature of happiness, he ached to put his arms around her. It is a shame that he does not have the weight to balance what she would lose. "It is getting rather late, your highness, let us go back to the house."
"Peter?"
"I doubt it would be of any use, Margaret," he said. "Yes, you will twist the Monarch's and Church's arm, but it will not the Parliament's. They will still strip you of your title and your privy purse. Tell me that does not matter to you."
She chewed on her lip, her brows furrowing which makes it terribly hard for anyone to tell her no.
"Let us do this one last fight, please."