Sara stared at the King, waiting for the explanation as he nervously paced back and forth. His hand ran constantly through his dark brown hair and his lips kept mumbling words that were incoherent as he tried to think of what to tell his beloved.

She was anticipating his answer and he did not realise how nervous he was to tell her the full full truth. The truth that he was her beloved Fluffy and in so doing also a wolf. If he told her that he would lose his most efficient way of being close to her and comforting her. His wolf side communicated with her wordlessly but still better than his human side. She would vent to him in that form and he loved to feel her head rubbing into the nape of his neck, her arms around him and her affection. He was terrified to lose that with her but he had accidentally let something slip and he could not just deny her. Not when she-

"Just spit it out!" She exclaimed after ten minutes of nothing progressing.

"I do not spit and it is not something so simple Sara. You would not understand," he said continuing pacing.

"Can't be worse than being knocked out and kidnapped by strangers in your bedroom who use some sort of magic," she muttered.

"Sara you don't understand," he said frustrated as he gripped his hair and just wanted to scream or howl out in his frustration.

He could not explain why he was frustrated without telling her the thing he was frustrated about telling her about. He could lose her trust, not that he had it to begin with but he would have even less of her trust.

"No, no I don't because a certain someone won't tell me anything. How on Earth can I understand if you won't tell me. You're forcing me to be your Queen so at least treat me like an equal and let me understand. You kidnapped me twice, ripping me away from my family and all that I have ever loved just to keep me in the dark. Just tell me what is going on and.... I'll cooperate at dinner," she said, sighing defeated at the end.

Her offer tempted him. It was not often that his mate volunteered to behave at dinner. She had made a scene of locking herself in the bathroom to escape dinner. He had to tell her if it would mean he would have an obedient Queen even for just a night.

"I am Fluffy," he admitted.

She suddenly burst out laughing.

He wondered if she found it that funny. Maybe she had pretended to be oblivious or maybe she thought he was lying or joking.

Sara could not contain her laughter. The King was insecure about having fluffy hair or wild hair when it looked perfect.

She suddenly realised that she would have to behave at dinner just because he admitted that he was insecure about having fluffy hair.

She doubted that it was important that his hair was fluffy but how did that lead to him being bipolar. It was obviously important to him and she could not hurt him because of it which meant she had to go to dinner.

"Your hair is not that fluffy," she said trying to comfort him.

The King stared at his beloved, realizing she had no idea what he was implying and sighed, deciding to go with it for the time being. A misunderstanding was better than her losing all trust she had in him, not that it was very much anymore after he had objectified her not too long before, again.

He did not necessarily like her misinterpretation but it was still better than her screaming or fainting in shock and surprise before closing herself off. His wolf was still seen as a separate entity from him.

Eventually the poor human girl was dragged down to dinner where she was forced to take on her prescribed role at the table.

She was seated on his lap on a throne being tenderly doted on at all times even if it was wordlessly be it through gentle pets, strokes or lovingly nuzzling his head in her neck. He gave her tons of romantic affection that had everyone finding them absolutely adorable and fitting for each other.

She had tried to escape his lap a few times however which had ended in zero progress as his arms held her tight, so tight that her escape attempts were stopped before they were even three seconds in.

She believed he must have been enjoying himself considering how much he wanted to eat in that position.

The servants brought the fancy dishes covered by the shiny golden domes, why they were gild instead of silver may have been to flaunt his wealth. Having cutlery of real silver was a feat but it was all pure gold and it was pretty uncommon or unheard of where she lived.

She felt a fork enter her mouth and she ate the delicious food deciding to still be compliant because of her promise and there were lots of people present.

"So what dress are you planning on wearing to your betrothal ball?" A woman asked her curiously once they had finished eating and were waiting for desert.

"Anya it ought to be a surprise. You cannot ask her what she is to wear, you might unintentionally copy her and draw away attention from the future Queen at her betrothal ball," one of the women exclaimed horrified.

Sara rolled her eyes discreetly. Did it really matter that much? It wasn't like she wanted to have all the attention nor did she want to be suffocated in a corset. If anything Adam was going to end up needing to bribe her into going to the ball. In addition to the above she had mentally listed, she did not even know what she would be wearing. They had kind of chosen all her outfits for her.

If it was her choice she would have worn something a little (a lot) more comfortable. For example her favourite white and blue halter neck dress that actually showed her knees. Obviously she did not say anything, the last thing she needed was to make the conservative medieval women faint in shock from her wardrobe preferences.

Suddenly a thought came into her head, maybe she could bargain with the King to wear shorter dresses sometimes. She could otherwise cut off the excess length of her dresses and adjust them to suit her preferences.

She did have a lot of free time available with the idea of women not working unless they were servants or slaves, working jobs such as maids. That was one part of the castle that was fine, the fact that most women did not work, not slavery. It meant she did not have to bother working and stressing about earning a living, although the inequality was kind of a downside to it all.

The King began to slightly worry as he saw his beloved becoming deep in thought. Was she planning some sort of trouble for the night or was she planning her next escape attempt from his arms. No, she did not have any sort of mischievous look on her face. Maybe she was thinking of some topic to discuss with the other women.

Why was his beloved so complicated in comparison to other women. Yes, she did not come with any personal issues, however she was not like other women. There was no submission. She made him compromise, unlike most men he did not have the upper hand when it came to his beloved. She loved to fight him on anything traditionally done. She enjoyed wearing clothes that revealed her legs and form. In short, she preferred to wear less than the average prostitute. She was not a woman of the night, that was one of the areas she would conform to his traditions, she saved herself for marriage.

He suddenly felt her move forward violently and became worried she would throw up again. On further observation he saw she was only trying to get closer to the dessert. She seemed to be more interested in dessert than she was in him. She definitely had at the very least a slight sweet tooth.

She seemed very much interested in the cake with its soft frosting and the set chocolate drops on it.

He took the fork and took a piece of it and she spun around to let him feed her. She hoped he was not going to take her cake for himself.

The cake went in her mouth and she felt its sweet deliciousness against her tongue. It was perfect, not too sweet or rich and yet not bland. Its soft texture was perfect as she ate it.

"Oh Lady Sara you must soon come to our castle. There is a mare named Ella that I am sure would be perfect for you," Anastasia gushed.

Sara only made a "mhm" in reply as she was fed her cake that had her addicted. If there was one good thing about the castle it was their desserts, especially their cake.

"What color are you planning on wearing to the ball? I personally believe a gold would suit you, Lady Ambrose seems to think white. How plain," one woman asked whilst seeming to be dissing the other lady.

"I suggested silver, not white," Jennifer retorted.

Sara sighed, her part of the cake finished. The ladies were all talking at once and it was kind of annoying. She did not know what the dress looked like, how could she know the colour and if she had a choice it would be blue.

They sounded like the adult, high class version of two year olds quarreling over dolls.