25. Alexander

Holding her in my arms, I barely notice the paparazzi snapping away as we stand by the airfield. The public's response to my candid interview has been more positive than I dared hope. While detractors and opposition to Nessa's presence in my life are inevitable, the vast majority seem eagerly anticipatory of her arrival. I can almost predict tomorrow's headlines, dubbing our story a real-life fairy tale.

Never wanting to let her go, I clasp her hand firmly in mine as we make our way back to the palace, maintaining that physical connection as a tangible affirmation of her presence.

Upon reaching a door next to mine, I pause. "So, this will be your room," I announce, attempting to gauge her reaction.

She cocks an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "My room? As in, not with you?" Her question hangs between us, challenging yet laced with humor.

I can't help but grin at her reaction, squeezing her hand gently to lead her forward. "Come, let me show you something." Guiding her through the walk-in closet, I open a door at the end, revealing a direct path into my own closet.

"I expect you to sleep in my bed every night. In fact, I might just issue a royal decree to ensure it," I jest, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of royal humor.

Her laughter, a sound I've grown to adore, fills the space between us. "I think there are a few royal decrees I'd like you to consider drafting on my behalf as well," she quips, her words sparking a playful exchange that feels both intimate and profoundly right.

Laughing, I nod, already envisioning the absurdity and beauty of drafting decrees for each other. "Anything for you, my wild rose." The world beyond these walls, with its expectations and criticisms, fades away, leaving just the two of us in our own little universe.

Holding Nessa close, feeling the warmth and solidity of her against me, it's as if everything else momentarily fades into the background. The future looms with its challenges and demands—her studies, her integration into royal life, the inevitable public scrutiny—but for now, this moment of reunion overshadows all.

"I've arranged a little something for you," I say, anticipation lighting my words. "But first, do you think you'd like a rest? Dinner with my mother is later. It'll just be us three."

At the mention of my mother, her grip tightens, and her skin turns clammy, a hint of anxiety betraying her calm exterior. I remember then the words she overheard, the misunderstanding that nearly cost us everything. "She's eager to make amends," I reassure her, hoping to ease her worries. "Despite how it might seem, she holds no ill will. On the contrary, she's quite interested in getting to know you."

Her lips twist skeptically, her trust in my reassurances wavering. Yet, curiosity wins out. "I'm intrigued by your surprise," she concedes, her resolve melting into a genuine interest that outweighs her fatigue. "I don't think I could rest now, even if I tried."

Leaning in, I kiss her softly, having a hard time not touching her when she's near.

"Come, time to show you your surprise." I intertwine our fingers and walk down the private aisle to the lower floor. I'm aware of the staff sneaking glances at us, their curiosity piqued by our obvious affection—a departure from the palace's usual decorum. It's a change I'm more than happy to champion. In my family, expressions of love were often private, but with Nessa, I want our future family to know love openly and without reservation.

"Are you taking me to the throne room again?"

I squeeze her hand and turn toward her, my desire at the mere thought of what we'd previously done in that room hardening my cock. "Behave, we can't just now."

Her laughter serves as a gentle prelude to the surprise awaiting her. As we step into the room, a fresh, vibrant scent envelops us—a mix of varnish and paint settling into its new home.

"I remembered the sensory studio in Vegas, how it brought you joy," I explain as we enter. Her hand slips from mine as she takes in the room, mirrors doubling as screens, ballet barres lining the walls, and a floor equipped with a vibration sound system. "It's modeled after the Vegas studio, down to every detail. And it's all yours, completely soundproof, to dance freely."

Her reaction—a mix of awe and tears—sends a jolt of panic through me. "If it's not to your liking, you don't have to use it," I offer hastily, eager to ease any discomfort.

But her response is immediate and heartfelt. "I don't just like it, I love it. You've given me back a piece of myself." Her words, sincere and moving, leave no room for doubt.

"I'd do anything for you, Vanessa. You should know that by now."

Emotion propels her into my arms again, a gesture I'm becoming pleasantly accustomed to. Her hands find my face, drawing me into a kiss filled with a passion we both know we can't fully explore just yet. But in this moment, with her affirmation and the promise of countless dances in her new sanctuary, everything else fades away.

Nessa yawns, and I take her back to my room, where she settles for a nap. By the time we're ready for dinner, she's fidgeting with the collar of her light-purple dress, so I take her hand, kissing the back of it as we walk into the small dining room already set up for us three.

"You're perfect," I reassure her, but to be fair, she's perfect in whatever she wears, even if I prefer her when she wears nothing at all.

Not now, Alexander, I chastise myself.

"I'm not sure of this dress. Maybe it's a little too tight and…" She has no time to finish as the door opens, revealing my mother, regal and composed. Her dress tonight is a soft shade of blue and complements her dignified presence, highlighting the wisdom in her eyes—eyes that now regard Nessa with a mixture of curiosity and, I hope, emerging fondness.

She walks toward us, and after a quick kiss to my cheek, she breaches tradition by hugging Nessa.

"Vanessa, what a delight to finally meet you officially. You are positively beautiful tonight."

Nessa blushes and does an awkward curtsy, earning a tender smile from my mother. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

"Please, call me Anita. I'm not here as the former queen of Denmark but as Alexander's mother meeting his girlfriend."

Nessa seems to relax a little, and I reach for her hand again. As we all take our seats, the ambience of the room is filled with the soft glow of candles, casting shadows that move across the walls adorned with portraits of my ancestors. The table is set with the finest silverware and crystal, a testament to the palace's grandeur, yet the atmosphere is surprisingly intimate, almost cozy.

Dinner is served, a culinary masterpiece that bridges traditional Danish cuisine with modern flair, yet the food seems secondary to the conversation that begins to flow more freely as the evening progresses.

"My dear," my mother begins, turning her attention fully to Nessa, "I must extend my apologies for any distress my words may have caused you. It's a mother's instinct to worry, but it was wrong of me to project those fears onto you. You will understand once you two have your own children."

I have to admit that I like the idea of imagining our children, but I can see by the way Nessa's eyes widen that my mother freaked her out.

"Mother, I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

She waves her hand. "No, of course, but I'm just saying. When you are a mother, sometimes rationality just goes out the window."

Nessa reads my mother's lips, her expression a blend of appreciation and understanding. "I get it, truly. If I were in your shoes, I'd probably feel the same. I just want you to know that Alexander's happiness is my top priority. He means the world to me."

The sincerity in her voice seems to reach my mother, who nods thoughtfully, a glimmer of approval in her gaze. "I see now that my concerns were misplaced. You have remarkable strength, Vanessa, something you will need as you stand beside my son. I wish for nothing more than your shared happiness."

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of laughter and heartfelt exchanges, proving that bridges are being built. When we finally rise from the table, my mother pulls Nessa into another embrace, this time with genuine affection. "Be happy, both of you. You have my blessing," she whispers, cupping Nessa's cheek with tenderness.

Back in the safety of my room, Nessa and I share a look, a silent acknowledgment of the evening's significance. I pull her close, my lips finding hers in a kiss that speaks of relief, love, and a promise of countless tomorrows.

"My mother loves you," I whisper against her lips, a statement of fact that fills me with indescribable joy. "Of course she does. How could she not? You're incredible, my beautiful, beautiful love."

As the night deepens, we give ourselves over to the passion that's been simmering between us. I make love to her slowly, tenderly, knowing that there will be so many more nights like this one. In these moments of ecstasy, when I get lost in the arms of the woman I adore, I'm reminded that whatever challenges we may face, we'll face them together, united by a love that defies all odds.

Vanessa is so many things. She's my chaos, my little witch, my love, my princess, and soon enough, my queen.