First Night (1)

Mikael rose from the bath, wrapping himself in the towel Beth left for him.

Droplets of water cascaded from his body, forming small puddles on the bathroom floor. His damp hair clung to his forehead as he reached for another towel, gently patting it dry.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, looking at the brink of fulfilling his duties of marriage with the Marquess.

Taking the towel that had served for drying his hair, he swept it over his face, muffling a sigh that escaped into the fabric veiling his face.

"This is quite the mess."

After the wedding, it was time for him and the Marquess to share their first night as newlyweds and officially mark their marital union.

Mikael asked Beth to try and tell the Marquess that he was not feeling well and that he would like to retreat to bed for tonight.

He wished he could continue disguising himself as his twin, even though he realized that avoiding the truth was only a temporary solution.

Mikael knew he'd have to face it eventually, but he clung to the fleeting relief for now.

After one last glance in the mirror, he left the bathroom and stepped into the Marquess' room, the space they'd now share as husband and wife.

His heart raced as he took in the lavish room. Candles cast a warm glow across the room. Mikael couldn't help but wonder if the candles had been set by the maids he had dismissed earlier.

His hands were clammy. He was looking at the décor, his heartbeat in tandem with the flickering flames of the glowing candles.

The thought of sharing this space with the Marquess intensified his apprehension. Taking a deep breath, Mikael squared his shoulders and moved further into the room.

The first thing that caught his eye as he looked around was the bed adorned with roses. The sight made him want to scream in embarrassment.

"God damn this," he muttered under his breath.

Frantically, he swept the roses aside, his hands moving quickly to clear the bed. The red petals fell and scattered around the floor like fragile pieces of a puzzle.

A sigh escaped his lips as frustration and resignation washed over him. His attention shifted to the table, where wine and glasses were arranged. The thought of drinking made him uneasy, and he decided to avoid it.

Mikael paced nervously in the dimly lit room, the minutes stretching like hours as he waited for Beth to return with the news.

He raked a hand through his damp hair, his heart racing with every passing second, like the room walls were closing in on him, and the air became thick with tension.

As he paced around, his thoughts tangled and conflicted, the door opened once more, revealing Beth. She was slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed from running through the mansion's corridors.

"Lord Mikael," she whispered, "the Marquess will be joining you shortly."

Mikael's heart raced even faster, anxiety tightening its grip on him. He looked at Beth, his own anxiety mirrored in her eyes. He needed to think on his feet and find a way to navigate this treacherous path he had set upon.

"W, What? Why?" Mikael's voice came out more strained than he intended.

Beth fidgeted, her fingers twisting together nervously. "The Marquess said he wanted to check up on you," she stammered. "W, Wh, What should we do, my lord?"

Mikael's stomach churned, and his pacing resumed. Meanwhile, Beth closed the door behind her, locking it temporarily to offer privacy for the time being.

Then, a spark of an idea ignited within Mikael, and he knew he needed Beth's help to pull it off. He turned to her, his expression earnest.

"Beth, I have a plan," he began, his voice a hushed urgency. "Make me sick. Make me look like I'm exhausted or unwell."

Beth's brows furrowed as she considered his request, her concern evident. "You want me to tell the Marquess once more that you're not feeling well?" she asked cautiously.

Mikael shook his head promptly, his hands gesturing to emphasize his point. "No, no, you've already done that." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Remember how you made me pale before the wedding, like before you applied that red liquid to my lips?"

"Pale?" she asked. Understanding dawned in Beth's eyes as she grasped his meaning. "You mean the face powder I put on you, my lord?"

"Yeah, whatever that was." Mikael nodded, his anticipation growing. "Put something on my face again that could make me appear pale as if I've lost some color."

Beth's lips formed a small 'O' as she grasped his request. "And then what, my lord? What's the plan?"

Mikael's lips tightened in determination. "Once you've made me appear unwell, you will inform the Marquess that I've already retired for the night due to my condition. And he should see me asleep and sick."

Beth nodded slowly, her gaze steady as she assessed Mikael. "Alright, my lord. I will do my best–"

Before Beth could finish her sentence, a sudden knock echoed through the room. Mikael's heart skipped a beat, and his eyes darted to the door.

Panic and urgency surged within him as he realized that the Marquess was already at their threshold. The moment they had been trying to delay was upon them, and he was far from prepared.

Time seemed to freeze as Mikael and Beth exchanged a quick, apprehensive glance. A voice, muffled but audible, followed the knock. "Is someone in there?"

Mikael's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Beth, his expression a mix of resolve and anxiety.

"Beth," he whispered urgently, his voice a strained plea, "never mind the pale look! Just help me get on the bed!"

Beth's eyes mirrored his anxiety, and without a second thought, she hurried to his side. As Mikael climbed onto the bed, she tucked him comfortably.

Mikael's heart raced, and he struggled to regulate his breath as he settled onto the bed. He shut his eyes, attempting to push away the racing thoughts that overwhelmed him.

The knock on the door grew louder, more persistent. "Mikayla?" The Marquess' voice sliced through the air.

His entire body was tense. He focused on maintaining his breathing steady and thinking of sleeping. His heart echoed in his chest, and each beat was a reminder of the performance he was enacting.

The door creaked open, and his senses went on high alert. He could sense the Marquess' presence, feel the weight of his gaze upon him. It took all of Mikael's determination to keep his eyes closed, to feign being lost in deep sleep.