Thread: Distrust & Intentions || Prodi & Mach

Charlotte departed mere hours later, letting the castle fall back into the strange, dark silence it had held for Maximilian over the last months. The looming threat of tumultuous change and the fall of the king. Over the next few days, Maximilian spent time in the library reading, reading works on leadership and politics until he was sure his eyes would fall out. On the third day since Charlotte's departure, he attended a party, a revelry intended to be a celebration of his upcoming marriage, though it was quite clear that that, truly, was just an excuse to eat, drink, and be merry. At first, he let himself go, drinking, partying, dancing. Hours in, he found himself at a table, surrounded by beautiful women, laughing and drinking with him, touching him lightly, eyes alight with flirtatious desire. He wanted to indulge, to let himself go, to forget about the coming responsibilities and the potentially passionless marriage to come, but he couldn't. He wasn't sure he could believe that there wouldn't be more in this marriage, and he couldn't go back on the promise he'd made to Charlotte so easily. Giving himself a strong mental push, he excused himself, leaving the ballroom and moving upstairs to his private chambers, door locked, and threw himself into bed for the night, sleeping off the haze of alcohol, and awaking in the morning - alone. By the time the wedding came around and he was in the royal procession to the Hillington Kingdom, he realized that he'd not gone this long without physical intimacy in a very, very long time. There was a certain tension to him, a hunger that he tried to suppress, and that part of him wondered if they would consummate the marriage, or if Charlotte considered their first 'encounter' to be just that. The more rational side of him chided that lusting, hedonistic craving for being so insensitive, not that it did much good. He'd always been better at heeding his desires than his rational thoughts. Their arrival was welcomed with a proper procession, though Max could clearly see the forced nature of the smile on her father's face as they shook hands, proceeding into the castle proper. He was shown to a nice set of rooms with a view of the city and surrounding country, and asked to keep to himself - that it would be improper of him to see his bride before the wedding to come. Max rolled his eyes as the servant departed, knowing that such a person would not know the details of this wildly improper event, but finding it ironic nonetheless. Sinking down into the chair at the desk, he carelessly cast his silver circlet to the wooden surface with a echoing clang, sighing. Still, the curiosity over this marriage haunted him. What would it be like? He already knew he would not survive a marriage without passion and sex - not faithfully anyway. But this marriage, being political in some part, would not do well if he were to take mistresses. Nor was he particularly inclined to - he'd be more than satisfied with Charlotte, if their pairing were to be... proper. Romantic. He couldn't tell if that's what she wanted. Did she find herself thinking of that night together? Did she want more nights like that? Or did it just prove to her that he was just a man of desire, who desired her like the other women he'd always chased? Another sigh escaped him and he leaned back, running his hands over his face. It was all too much, and, once upon a time, he would have gone to Charlotte for advice. She was always so much better at working through problems, particularly when people were involved. Sure, he as a charmer, but his skills didn't go much past talking women into his bed and proper socialization. Who was he to talk to now? His mother was a distinct option. She'd always been an island of sanity in his life. She knew what he was like, no doubt, but she'd never passed judgement on him. In fact, she'd always been quite reasonable, and he'd helped guide him since the news of his father. Guide him through his studies, which were suddenly more important. But he couldn't talk to his mother about this, no. He'd just have to wait. Wait and see. Pure torture, that.