Bound by Secrets and Desire

Chapter 1

The city of Eldoria was bustling with excitement on this day. Richard had ventured out to witness the grand spectacle of the wedding of Regent Lord Maximillian and Lord Albert. Lord Albert was not marrying just anyone—he was tying the knot with Lady Beatrice, the eighth daughter of Emperor Richard. The romance between Lord Albert and Lady Beatrice had long been the talk of the town.

Their relationship had deep roots, tied together by a complicated web of familial connections that seemed as twisted as a cat's cradle. Despite pushback from various noble factions, Lord Albert was steadfast in his affections for Lady Beatrice and eventually overpowered the opposition. Today marked the day he would finally claim his beloved.

Lord Albert's convoluted history with Emperor Richard was a tale that could be recounted for three days and nights without end. It was rumored that the Emperor was compelled to marry Annette off to him, an act of desperation.

While the Kingdom of Loria appeared to have its own autonomy, everyone knew it was merely a puppet regime, with Regent Lord Maximillian pulling the strings behind the scenes. Whispers circulated that had it not been for Lady Beatrice’s influence, Lord Albert would have long since eliminated Emperor Richard and taken his throne.

In the eyes of the public, Lord Albert was depicted as a man who loved beauty but was indifferent to wisdom, with Lady Beatrice being hailed as a stunning beauty capable of captivating kingdoms. Yet, despite the chatter surrounding their romance, the true essence of their situation remained obscured from the common folk—they could not see the realities of what transpired within the Royal Palace.

Typically, legends should be taken with a grain of salt, but this particular tale seemed remarkably credible. It was true that Lord Albert was genuinely infatuated with Lady Beatrice, and it was beneath her gaze that he held back from orchestrating a bloody coup against Emperor Richard.

Lord Albert was a striking figure—tall and regal, adorned in a brilliant red wedding robe that accentuated his handsome features. While the men of the House of White were often seen as delicate, Lord Albert possessed a manly charm, with bushy eyebrows, a straight nose, and thin lips that made any young lady swoon.

As he rode a magnificent steed alongside his entourage towards the wedding, his demeanor was both audacious and proud. The wedding ceremony was extravagantly ostentatious yet, surprisingly, not a single official dared to voice any objections. Within the lavish sedan chair he brought, hidden was the one thing he cherished most—after today, Beatrice would be entirely his.

The thought of finally having Lady Beatrice as his own brought an unusual smile to Lord Albert's face, something rarely seen.

After enduring the elaborate ceremony, Lady Beatrice found herself in the bridal chamber. Sitting on the celebratory bed, she fidgeted with her gown, her body language betraying her nervousness. The veil covered her exquisite features, but the worry etched on her face was clear.

She felt trapped in this marriage, constantly questioning Lord Albert, who intimidated her, and bewildered by the depth of his affections for her.

Lady Beatrice had not wanted to marry Lord Albert; he was a sword forever hanging over her family's head, and their relationship was steeped in bloodshed and historical grievances. To make matters more complicated—they were actually blood relatives.

Chapter 2

As Lady Beatrice listened to the tumult outside the palace doors, she felt a familiar chill creep down her spine. Her father, King Harold, was locked in a power struggle that had already laid waste to many noble families, including that of Lord Albert. The conflict had claimed the life of Lord Albert's elder brother, and it drove his mother to a tragic end. Only Lord Albert, just a baby at the time, had been spared from this calamity by the grace of Princess Isabella, who had seen fit to protect him from the chaos.

Raised in the Cold Keep by distant servants, Lord Albert had endured hardships throughout his youth. Emperor Richard, known for his cruel treatment of the boy, would not let up. By the time Albert was twelve, he found himself exiled to the treacherous frontier, manning a seemingly impossible post. But fate was an enigmatic ally. Against all odds, young Lord Albert distinguished himself on the battlefield, leading a formidable army and rendering his enemies powerless, ultimately bringing honor back to the royal house.

Years passed, and Albert transformed from a lost boy into Regent Lord Maximillian, an imposing figure who wielded power that even his uncle, King Edward, could not contest. His swift ascent instilled dread within those remaining of his family, who lived in perpetual fear of being the next casualties in a game they never intended to play.

Yet, despite his ruthless demeanor, there was a tenderness in Lord Albert's gaze that was reserved for Lady Beatrice. His admiration for her lingered, compelling him to approach her father with intentions of courtship. His proposition promised prosperity for her family, with a guarantee that her marriage to him would secure his place on the throne.

Beatrice often found herself lost in thought, trying to decipher what it was about her that captivated this formidable man. She suspected their bond came from the isolation they both shared in the cold confines of the palace, yet she struggled to understand the depth of his attachment.

With a resigned sigh, Beatrice accepted her fate. Marriages in these realms were seldom for love; they were often mere trades for power. The landscape of royal politics made her heart heavy.

As the day turned to evening, the distant murmurs of arriving guests grew louder—signifying the presence of Lord Albert. Her heart raced, and she could scarcely glimpse his polished shoes approaching. He paused before her, the entrance still untroubled by any other eager figures. Perhaps no one dared interrupt in the presence of such a commanding figure as Albert.

He lifted the ceremonial veil veiling her face, and their eyes met for the first time. His smile radiated gentleness, but for reasons unknown, Beatrice felt a flutter of unease every time she locked eyes with him. Nevertheless, this was the man she would spend her life with—together they would share triumphs and despair, as was the unyielding fate of all couples in their world.

“Wife,” he said, his voice soothing yet firm.

“Your Grace,” she replied softly, attempting to avert her gaze.

Albert captured her chin gently, compelling her to meet his intent stare. “Beatrice Gregory, from this day forth, you are my wife. You must learn to carry yourself with more courage.” He did not favor her timid demeanor, far more like that of a frightened mouse before a cat. Yet deep down, Beatrice's fears were not solely of him, but of the formidable power he held.

They began the ceremonial joining of hands, ready to partake in the symbolic cup of unity. Beatrice lifted her glass, but just as she was about to sip, Albert seized her hand, stopping her.

“Beatrice Gregory,” he leaned closer, his voice a hushed whisper, “I need to confirm something first. Do you know this cup holds poison?” This question had haunted him since their wedding day, as that very wine had been laced with treachery. If he and his generals imbibed it, it could sever the ties between life and death.

Chapter 3

Lady Beatrice's eyes widened in shock. "The wine is poisoned." Fear gripped her as she stared at the goblet, realizing that Lord Albert had also refrained from drinking the ceremonial toast. At that moment, King George held two finely crafted wine glasses.

"Bring Richard in." His voice was cold.

Before she could process his words, four figures clad in black entered the room, dragging in Richard, who turned out to be her two attendants.

"Evelyn, Jonathan, what are you doing?" Lady Beatrice’s panic rose as she sensed something was deeply amiss.

"Make them drink!" Lord Albert commanded as he handed the goblets to the black-clad figures. They seized Maid Annette by the chin, preparing to pour the lethal wine down her throat.

"Help me, Your Highness! Help me!" Evelyn cried out in terror, her pleas unintentionally revealing to the others that something was terribly wrong.

Although Lady Beatrice wasn't particularly astute, a realization dawned on her: could this wine truly be poisoned? Did Evelyn and Jonathan know about it all along?

"Why?" She asked, her gaze fixed on the two attendants she had treated with kindness. Even after their disgrace, she had endeavored to help them maintain their dignity.

But before her questions could be clarified, the poison was already being forced into the mouths of both attendants. Within moments of drinking, they fell to the ground, writhing in agony, and soon fell silent.

"Ah!" Lady Beatrice let out a horrified scream, her face draining of color. She couldn't fathom the horror if that deadly concoction were to find its way to her own lips.

"Take them away." Lord Albert commanded indifferently.

As Lady Beatrice trembled in fear, Lord Albert held her close and spoke with a tone that was both melancholic and relieved. "What a relief. I was considering what I would do if Beatrice was also involved in this plot against my life."

He loved her, had always loved her. If Lady Beatrice truly harbored such cruelty, what would he do? Perhaps confining her to his bedroom for life, rendering her forever a prisoner of his heart.

"I... I don’t know." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Of course, she didn’t know that the poison had come from the same source, meant to take them both down. How could her father, King Edward, be so ruthless? Despite their strained relationship, did he really intend to end her life?

"I know you don’t," he said. "Now, Beatrice, drink this." He produced a small ceramic vial, the scent of it wafting sweetly toward her.

"What is this?" Lady Beatrice asked, her voice quivering, instantly evoking an almost childlike innocence.

"It’s an antidote. I believe they have also poisoned you, Beatrice. Even if I hadn’t drunk any of the poison, once the marriage rituals are completed with you, I would still suffer the effects and perish from this poison."

His words sent shivers down her spine. Was she already feeling the effects? As she clutched her abdomen, beset by a sudden pain, she couldn’t tell if it was mere panic or an actual side effect.

Lord Albert's earnestness made Lady Beatrice tremble as she grasped the vial, her hand shaking, caught between trust and doubt.

"Beatrice, please, hurry." The authority in his voice compelled her, and with a surge of determination, she downed the contents. It seemed he had an unmistakable way of commanding respect.

This single vial of precious antidote, irreplaceable even to Lord Albert, could counteract all poisons and provide protection against them. He offered it to her without hesitation because he knew the lengths they could go to harm her.

"Good girl." He praised softly.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she worried, fearing that drinking the antidote would bring her the same fate as her attendants. But she needn't have feared—the liquid was cool and soothing, leaving her feeling unexpectedly refreshed.

"Beatrice, your father, King Edward, has lost his pact with me. As I’m sure you understand, I cannot tolerate him any longer." Lord Albert spoke gravely. He was prepared to let the elder man live for her sake, but the king had squandered that kindness.

Lady Beatrice bowed her head in silence. Across the kingdom, it was known that Lord Albert was Loria's most unforgiving ruler; it was only a matter of time before he took action against the treacherous court.

Although she bore only a familial bond with the king, today’s events had only deepened her disdain for him.

"Beatrice, I always envisioned this moment as perfect, but with all these complications, I must ensure our wedding is completed. Only then will my men trust you fully as my wife." The toxic wine presented to the king had already spurred murmurs among his advisors to eliminate Lady Beatrice.

Confused by his words, Lady Beatrice tried to decipher his intentions, but soon, the meaning became clear to her. Lord Albert ripped the crown from her head and tossed it aside, pushing her to lie back on the bed, pinning her limbs down.

No matter how innocent she tried to act, she could no longer ignore the implications of his actions.

Chapter 4

“Though I feel a bit awkward about my lady, I promise to make it up to you when I return. Your father, King Edward, has put me in a difficult position. I fear my loyal subjects won’t be able to serve you fully if you aren’t their rightful mistress.” As he spoke, he pulled down her undergarments. Both he and Lord Albert were neatly dressed, yet he unfastened his trousers. Lady Beatrice, in a moment of panic, caught a glimpse of his arousal, far more impressive than any device used by her governess; it was overwhelming.

“Please, no. Don’t,” she stammered, shaking her head. The thought of being penetrated by him was unbearable.

“Beatrice Gregory, are you unwilling to marry me?” he asked, his demeanor calm; however, beneath his regal exterior lay the stormy temperament of His Majesty, King George. If Lady Beatrice's response did not satisfy him, it would unleash chaos.

“No, that’s not it. I just…” She faltered, unsure of her own feelings. “I’m just not ready.” If he gave her time to prepare, she feared she would never be ready.

“Sweet Beatrice Gregory, I’m sorry to put you through this,” he said, satisfied when she spoke. He leaned down and kissed her deeply even as he thrust into her for the first time.

His movements were swift and precise. The discomfort of her dry entrance was overwhelming, and the pain made Lady Beatrice squirm uncontrollably. He held her slender body against him, kissing her passionately, muffling her cries. Her sobs troubled him deeply.

After longing for so long, the warmth of her body enveloped him, providing profound satisfaction, though it wasn’t precisely how he had envisioned this moment. It was appalling to think that an old rival had caused such turmoil on their wedding night.

This rival was not just out for vengeance against him; he sought to harm Beatrice Gregory as well, making the offense all the more egregious.

The pain escalated, causing Lady Beatrice to weep tears that tumbled down her cheeks; they rapidly turned into a flood on her face. Lord Albert, unable to delay any longer, began to move with urgency beneath her. This was his first experience, exhilarated as he pressed against her. He had repressed his feelings for too long; he held no interest in any other woman, no matter how beautiful or enticing. Beatrice was all he desired.

“Mmm... ugh,” her voice was stifled against his lips, muffled cries escaping as she writhed, but with each movement, the pain seemed to intensify. In desperation, she pleaded for him to finish quickly.

The initial thrusts were challenging due to her dryness, but her body instinctively began to respond, easing the way. Men seem to have an innate understanding of such matters, and soon, he found a rhythm that satisfied him deeply. He thrust again and again, each movement more primal and instinctual than the last.

As the pain gradually subsided, Lady Beatrice was left struggling to articulate her sensations, feeling a heaviness in her abdomen and a numbness below. Her legs lay open, surrendering completely, her expression one of serene acceptance, awaiting the moment it would finally end.

“Ugh—” The first encounter rarely lasts long, and Lord Albert was soon overtaken by pleasure, releasing himself inside her.

Lady Beatrice lay there, momentarily dazed; she had hardly felt any satisfaction, only profound discomfort.

As Lord Albert withdrew, he carefully took out a blood-stained handkerchief and cleaned her, the token of purity now marred with their shared act. Her body bore signs of their encounter, looking tender and ravaged.

He adjusted his clothing, his tone apologetic. “I should have been more gentle. But we need to establish your identity as my wife of Margaret. This handkerchief will ensure my men remain loyal to you, especially if it means you might carry our heir.”

“I must go now. Perhaps tomorrow, Beatrice Gregory will be known as King Edward's bride.”

Lady Beatrice felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her. Her husband had taken her purity on their wedding night only to plot a rebellion. Once their union was solidified, they would be bound by fate—if he succeeded, she would be the Queen; if he fell, so would she.

“Regent Lord Maximillian,” she called out, her voice laced with desperation, watching his retreating figure.

Lord Albert understood her call but chose not to respond; it was too late to change his resolve.

“Husband,” she softened her plea.

At the sound of his name on her lips, he paused briefly but continued on, still determined to leave.

“Albert! Please!” Her desperate cries halted him at last; there was still one moment when a single voice could shatter his rigid resolve.

“Please, don’t harm Young Gregory,” she begged, knowing she couldn’t protect all her siblings, but Young Gregory was her full-blooded brother. She couldn’t bear the thought of him in harm’s way.

Chapter 5

“Beatrice Gregory, if Lord Edgar were alive, then I would only be known as Regent Lord Maximillian.” If he aimed for dominance, Richard’s bloodline must be eradicated, and that included Young Gregory.

“Darling, please, Beatrice Gregory implores you.” With no other option, Lady Beatrice climbed out of bed despite the pain coursing through her body, clutching his arm. It was rare for her to take such initiative, and it thrilled him unexpectedly.

Reason urged Lord Albert that Lord Young must be eliminated, yet Lady Beatrice's pleading tossed his steadfast resolve into turmoil.

“Albert, please, I beg you.” She sank to her knees, bowing deeply to the ground, to her parents, to the sovereign, and most importantly, to him.

Seeing her so submitted softened even the hardest corners of his heart; she had been the treasured one in his thoughts for so long.

“Beatrice Gregory, Richard must pay a price as well. What will you offer in exchange?” He crouched low, grasping her chin to force her gaze to meet his.

Typically avoiding eye contact, Lady Beatrice suddenly brimmed with courage, and after a deep breath, she said, “Darling, I am willing to pay any price.”

“Is that so? You would willingly sacrifice everything for young Lord Young, this innocent Gregory?” His fingers brushed against Lady Beatrice's ruby lips, stoking a wave of jealousy within him.

“Then let us barter your all. From this moment, every part of you belongs to me—Richard or heart, it all must be mine.” His voice resonated like a lion's roar, increasing the intensity in Lady Beatrice's wide eyes, but none of that rendered her capable of uttering a refusal.

“And your loyalty, obedience, and freedom as well.” He continued, without restraint in his demands.

Lady Beatrice understood she was bargaining with a tiger, yet visions of her younger brother’s innocent face swayed her resolve; without hesitation, she nodded, “Very well, from now on, I am solely yours, darling.”

Lady Beatrice knew Lord Albert’s fixation on her, aware of how to appease him; but deep down, she was reluctant—yet what could she do? A struggle against Lord Albert, reverberating with power, would really be akin to pushing a boulder uphill.

“Very well, Beatrice Gregory; then as you wish, allow Lord Young to live.” He swept Lady Beatrice into his arms, leaning down to kiss her. She shivered slightly in his embrace, a sensation he disdained yet savored, relishing in her fragile form.

Lady Beatrice obediently permitted him access, savoring the sweetness shared between them. When he finally released her, she felt dazed and somewhat hazy.

“Be a good girl and wait for my return; we shall make our wedding night complete.” He tenderly caressed her face, desire glimmering in his eyes.

Blushing, Lady Beatrice grasped the meaning behind his words. Despite thoughts of dying on their wedding night, she had been prepared for this moment, due to her maid's earlier guidance on marital intimacy, which had only brought her pain thus far.

“Take care of Richard.” He issued his cold command to his subordinates. As they responded dutifully, he exited with a casual stride.

Watching him depart, Lady Beatrice sighed. She had not anticipated that her father, King Edward, would consider using her as a pawn to assassinate Lord Albert. If she succeeded, history would remember her as a traitor.

Even though Lord Albert's claim to legitimacy was shaky, to the people of Loria, he was simply known as Regent Lord Maximillian, the only ruler they recognized.

The emergence of Regent Lord Maximillian was due in part to Lord Henry's incompetence; Lord Henry was the current troubled king of Loria, maintaining the throne after suppressing his brothers with bloody forces. However, rather than pursue the welfare of his kingdom, he treated Loria as his personal fiefdom, ruthlessly pursuing wealth.

Under his misgovernance, the Kingdom of Loria became a place of privilege for the elites while the poor suffered; beyond the Capital City of Eldoria, corrupt officials neglected their citizens. Heavy taxation and harsh laws dominated—a mother was executed for stealing bread, while the son of a councilman went unpunished for his violent acts.

In this ridiculous state of affairs, lawlessness reigned as bandits began to rise; the government struggled to regain control as people began to turn to crime. Meanwhile, tensions along the frontier escalated, creating an opportunity for Regent Lord Maximillian's rise.

Leading his loyal Black Shield Brigade into Eldoria, the legendary force composed of skilled fighters from various outlaw groups, Lord Albert gained their fealty through charisma and strength.

His entry into the court marked a shift; with military might at his back, he initiated sweeping reforms. Over the past three years, under his guidance, the Kingdom of Loria gradually stabilized, easing tensions with neighboring realms, no longer bound to pay tribute or form unwanted alliances.

Had her father, King Edward, truly never given up on regaining his power? She once again found herself a discarded pawn in a perilous game.

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