Symphony No. 45 in F-Sharp Minor, Hob. I:45, "Farewell": I. Allegro assai, by Franz Joseph Haydn

"What the fuck was that about, Amalia?!" Aiden exploded as soon as they were alone in his study. Despite how much he tried to contain his rage, he couldn't completely hide the resentment he felt.

His tone surprised her, and she took a careful step away from him. "Aiden, please. I'm so sorry."

Her eyes were glistening with tears, but as much as it pained him to see it, he refused to let it soften him. What she had done could compromise everything they had built. The impunity with which Sebastian had asked for the money was still sitting wrong with Aiden; his blood was still boiling with rage. She had brought him upon them. She had opened the door to the danger he posed.

"Why would you send a letter to that bastard?"

"It was before. It was before everything. I sent it back in Bristol, after you found me, before you came to get me and the girls. I was so worried, Aiden. You— you scared me to death, and I panicked. I thought you would hurt me or the girls. I couldn't think of what else I could do."

Did she have so little faith in him she imagined he could ever lay a hand on her or the girls? What kind of man did she think he was?

"Don't you know I would never hurt you, Amalia?"

"That's not what you said back then. You spoke of throwing me in an asylum, to have me hanging, to have me locked in a prison cell. I didn't have a choice, Aiden."

Her words resonated within him, and he forced himself to take a moment to analyze the situation. He could still remember the rage he'd felt upon finding her all these months ago. Admittedly, he'd made some nasty threats back then. And while he might have meant them at the time, he, of course, would never have acted upon them.

But she hadn't known that. After so many years apart, it made sense that she'd hesitate and be unsure about the man he'd become. After the way he'd behaved by the stream, he couldn't really blame her for seeking help in whatever way she could.

As he was thrown back to their problematic reunion, Aiden realized just how much he'd forced her the entire time. First with threats, and then with a marriage she couldn't escape.

"Do you want this life?" he asked her, ashamed that it was the first time he was truly asking for her agreement.

His question left her perplexed at first. But when she understood he meant this, with him, she nodded vehemently. "Yes, I do. I want this so much, darling. I love this place, I love watching the girls bloom, I love being with you, I love our routine... Aiden, I love—" She hesitated, her pleading eyes scanning his intently. "I love everything about my life with you. The woman I was three months ago is completely gone. I never want to leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was undeniable, and it was clear that the letter she'd sent was a mistake she sourly regretted.

"You should have told me about it earlier," he pointed out. "Maybe I could have done something about it. Maybe all of this would have been preventable if I'd known."

"I know, and I can't apologize enough for keeping you in the dark. For the first few weeks, I kept hoping the letter would reach one of them, because I didn't trust you with my safety. But then things evolved, and I started hoping it would get lost somewhere, and that no one would ever read it. But things were so fragile between us, I didn't want to make them worse by telling you the truth. And then, it all shifted so fast, and it completely slipped my mind."

Tears were steadily flowing down her reddened cheeks, her guilt so strong it was almost palpable.

He wanted to forgive her. More than anything, he wished he could brush it all off and accept all of it like an honest mistake. But the fact remained that her actions had put their daughters, their family, into a very precarious situation.

Had he known, maybe he could have been able to intercept the letter. Maybe none of this would have happened if she'd been truthful with him and had trusted that he'd take care of her, or at the very least of his own daughters.

Instead, he was stuck in a position he despised, forced to bend to the will of the poor excuse of a man that was her brother.

As he looked down at her, at the wet path of her tears on her cheeks, and the pinkness of her nose and cheekbones, he almost gave in. His arms were itching to wrap around her, his lips wanted to kiss her forehead, and his heart wanted to hold her against his chest. But he held back, unable to see past this betrayal. She hadn't trusted him, and now they would all pay the price for it.

The tense silence that had settled between them was broken by someone who knocked on the door. "Come in," he ordered.

The wooden panel opened, revealing a footman. "Your Graces, lunch is ready to be served."

"I don't have an appetite," Aiden declared, moving to sit in the chair behind his desk instead.

"Me neither," Amalia said.

"You should go so the girls aren't alone."

His suggestion sounded more like an order, and after a slight hesitation, she docilely nodded.

Once he was alone, Aiden leaned back in his seat, his eyes lost somewhere on the solid oak of his desk.

He would have the ten thousand pounds ready for Sebastian, but they needed a better plan. There were no limits to blackmailing, and nothing ensured Sebastian wouldn't come back, over and over again, every time he needed money. Aiden wasn't a man to accept such humiliation easily.

He successfully avoided his wife for the rest of the day, remaining locked in his study. During the afternoon, since Amalia was burdened with her lessons, he'd spent some time with the twins, enjoying a fake tea party with them in their playroom. As he sat with his precious girls, he promised himself he'd do everything he could to protect them from their despicable uncle.

If he was so furious, it wasn't so much as the money they would lose, it would barely make a dent in his fortune, but it was the impunity with which the man had extorted it.

Blackmail was a complicated situation that could last decades, and he was perfectly aware this was only the beginning. How long before Sebastian came back and asked for more? Men like him were shameless and unpredictable. He would undoubtedly extort more money from them. The kind of secret he was using against them could even be passed down for generations.

If the truth came out, they would handle the backlash and be done with it. To him, it was clear that the matter could have been easily settled. They should have sent him back on his way, and to hell with the consequences. There was nothing he couldn't fight off. And he knew how it worked. A scandal would come out, it would make the newspapers, people gossipped, and it slowly died until another scandal erupted, erasing it entirely from people's memories.

Admittedly, their lives might be harder than he was comfortable with. Even as a duke, he wasn't certain he'd manage to shelter them from all the terrible rumors they might be subjected to. And not only them, but any other child he and Amalia might have would also suffer from the terrible reality of their blood. It didn't matter if his lineage was as blue as the kings and queens of this country. Being half bohemian might overrule his impeccable bloodline, and his children would suffer from it.

But he longed for the world to know they were his. If the price to pay was a lifetime of struggle, he might very well take the deal. Having to be a surrogate father to his own daughters was humiliating.

His heart wanted to send Sebastian on his way, but his brain had decided to comply with the man's demands. In all truth, he was doing it in large part for Amalia. She had demanded to have a say in their daughters' education, and he was trying to respect that, to honor their agreement. He was almost certain to have made the right decision, but still, his pride was wounded.

He remained in his study until his eyes were too tired to even read and then headed to his chambers. He entered through the small sitting room adjacent to his bedroom and then accessed his water closet. Once he was undressed and had cleaned some essential parts of his body, he entered his room.

The shape tucked into his bed, so deep under the covers only her black hair was visible, made his heart tighten in his chest.

They had been sleeping together for weeks now. He actually looked forward to going to bed with his wife, so he could make love to her, hold her tenderly afterward, and talk with her. Starting the day waking up next to her was something he adored, and he enjoyed it when she was the first thing he saw in the morning, and when her soft and sleepy voice was the first thing he heard.

But tonight, he didn't want to share a bed with her. The tension between them was far from gone, and holding her when he was still crossed wasn't right.

Holding back a groan, he headed toward her, wondering what he should do about it. The manor was large enough for him to pick another room and make it his for the night. But he didn't need a gossiping household to add to their precarious situation. If she was fast asleep, maybe he could carry Amalia into her room and tuck her in her own bed.

When he got closer, he got a glimpse of her face, and her expression wasn't as peaceful as it usually was when she slept. It made sense when she opened her eyes to peek at him, and he realized she'd either been trying to sleep or faking it.

"I think it would be better if you slept in your own bed tonight," he declared, hating how uncertain his voice sounded.

The pain his words inflicted was all over her face, and he almost regretted saying them. But he masked his distress, remembering how terrible this situation was. She'd endangered everything, and he needed to be firm in the repercussions, to ensure she wouldn't do such a thing again in the future.

She lifted herself up, revealing more of her from under the cover. Once she was sitting on the mattress, she sighed and turned to him with pleading eyes.

"Aiden... You can't keep blaming me for sending that letter. You didn't leave me a choi—"

"I understand and accept why you sent it. This isn't the problem at hand, Ama. The problem is you never told me about it. You didn't trust me enough, and now you've put our whole life in the balance. You've jeopardized the happiness of our daughters, and put our marriage at risk."

His arguments seemed to work on her, and her expression twisted into keen remorse.

"I was scared you would push me away. I was scared this letter would be like another betrayal, that you would decide I wasn't worth it."

"And as legitimate as your worries might have been, you should have put the wellbeing of our family, of our daughters, before yours," he reminded her, administering the final blow.

She had nothing to answer to that, and after a moment of hesitation, she slipped out of the covers. She offered him one last gaze full of silent apology and obeyed his wish. He watched as she walked to the door that separated their room, her white nightgown reaching down to her knees. Standing in the doorway, she uttered a few words he couldn't make out, before disappearing into her room.

Aiden was torn. Terribly so.

As he watched his empty bed, he wondered if he hadn't been too harsh with her. He wanted nothing more than to rush into her room and comfort her, hold her into his arms, and whisper words of eternal love and devotion into her ears.

Because yes, he was in love with her. More than he'd ever been in the past. He loved her for everything she was, with everything he had. He'd known it for a while now, having recognized the powerful emotion from when he'd first fell for her years ago.

But as much as he loved her and wanted to be with her, he was still embittered by her lack of trust in him.

With a conflicted curse, Aiden made his way into his bed, highly aware of the warmth she'd left behind her. As he stared at the ceiling above him, he ran his hand over the portion of the mattress she'd been on, wishing he'd been more forgiving.

Right now, he wanted her, just as much as he needed her to be away from him.

A week. He'd give his resentment a week – until the Sebastian matter was settled – and then he'd forgive her.

A pair of plump lips pulled him out of his slumber, leaving him disoriented and confused. The familiar mouth was drawing a line of pecks along his jaw and down his neck. An irrepressible groan vibrated in his throat, right against the mouth, when it reached his Adam's apple.

Why was this happening? Had he slipped into another dream, or was this reality? Just in case it was a dream, Aiden decided he wouldn't open his eyes, so it could keep unfolding.

For four days now, he'd been sleeping alone. It made no sense that his wife would be here with him when they hadn't solved any of their issues yet.

Her soft shape was plastered against him, and while he was wearing a pair of breeches, it was clear she was utterly naked under the covers. Another groan rolled in his chest when the tip of her tongue ran along his collarbone. With a delicate hand, she was grazing his stomach, going lower and lower, her fingers heading for his hardening prick.

"Are you up, darling?" she whispered into his ear before nibbling at the lobe.

God, how he'd missed her. He'd missed her scent, her softness, her voice...

Her hand eventually reached the loose waistband of the only garment he was wearing. But she didn't let it stop her. Boldly, she pushed underneath, and her fingers quickly reached his cock, wrapping themselves around it.

"Hmm... Yes you are," she then murmured with appreciation.

As she stroked him with dexterity, Aiden wondered why they hadn't done any of this for four days. That stupid feud going on between them wasn't worth being deprived of her touch, of her sensual body, of their amorous embraces...

He finally forced his eyelids open and drowned into her darkest of eyes. It was the middle of the night, but there was a candle on the nightstand on her side – one she must have brought from her own room.

She was so temptingly gorgeous, with her lush lips right there, one stretch of his neck away from his. He didn't even try to resist their call, lifting himself to take possession of her mouth. She answered his kiss with docility, letting him ravage her with all the need he felt for her.

Her hand was still working him into a glorious erection, and he sensed a few drops of precum escape its tip before he was even fully hard. This beautiful witch would truly be his doom, wouldn't she?

Their passionate embrace evolved, and he ended up over her, between her spread thighs. She was soft and pliant under him, and the docility she was showing was hard to miss. Between the fact that he'd just woken up, and the way passion was taking over, his mind was clogged, almost dazed. It took him much longer than it should have to realize something was wrong.

Amalia's attitude didn't feel right. Her submission was wrong, unnatural. The woman under him wasn't the strong-headed force of nature he'd married, not the spitfire he'd fallen in love with.

He interrupted their kiss, ripping his lips away from hers. With her hands framing his face, she tried to force him down again, her eyes pleading.

"Please, Aiden. I'll do anything you want..." she begged. "I'll be whatever you need me to be – the perfect duchess, the perfect wife... I'll obey you, follow your command... Just please, forgive me."

Aiden hated this with burning intensity. This was what he'd pushed her to? To beg for his affection? To be ready to abandon who she was at her core so he'd forgive her? Reduced to the baseness of buying his forgiveness with her body? The mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach. It all felt so outrageously wrong.

He moved away from her, extracting himself from the welcoming space between her spread thighs.

If only she'd told him about the bloody letter earlier, they wouldn't be in this situation. With his back to her, he sat on the edge of the bed, with his elbows on his knees, his head lowered in his hands. He didn't know what to do anymore.

Until Sebastian was gone, until he was sure his family was safe again, he couldn't forgive what she'd done. What if everything was ruined? What if her secrecy led to their entire life being torn apart forever?

Amalia sobbed behind him, and it sent a painful jolt into his heart. It wasn't right to torment her like so, but his own pain, the turmoil that had been wreaking havoc in his mind for over four days now, couldn't be ignored either.

He rose from the bed and headed toward the door. On his way there, he grabbed his robe, deciding he'd be better off on the couch in his study. Without another look for Amalia, he left the room, fighting back the urge to return to her, to hold her and promise her everything would be fine.

There was no way to tell if things would end well.

But he hoped to God they would.

This song is angry, desperate, confused... (I might read into songs a bit too much, yes). It's ups and downs, like Aiden. But also, ALSO, it's named Farewell, so I had to pick it just to mess with ya'll. Symphony No. 45 in F-Sharp Minor, Hob. I:45, "Farewell": I. Allegro assai, by Franz Joseph Haydn.