In the still of the night, wary feet padded along the floors of Highgrove.

One could count on a single hand the number of times Charles made amends with his wife. What temporary peace that was built normally came crashing down in a month when one deemed the other had slighted them—it was a vicious and petty cycle best left alone.

However, his mother had stuck her nose in this time, declaring that amends must be made. Whilst she never said it outright, it was clear this was to be done or else she'd arrange that the Parker Bowles family was sent abroad, never to return out of service to the crown.

It was the threat of losing her that sent him to your door late at night.

The thrum of a grandfather clock broke through the nervous prince's mind, a breath caught in his throat. Midnight had already come. How long had he been standing here, going over countless patronizing speeches about duty in his head? Calm washed over him at the prospect that you had already found rest, and he would be forced to try again in the morning.

Although the faint rapping of knuckles upon the white door had been enough to thwart that dream when the familiar mousiness that was your voice beckoned him to come inside.

Following the click of the bedroom door behind him, Charles raised his gaze, taking in the sight of you in bed with a book in hand. He found it difficult to make out the title in such low light.

"I don't recall ever seeing you read before," it was as light as Charles's tight voice would allow, an attempt at a tease, even though he felt himself stiffen immediately within your presence—he had no idea how one as meek as yourself could vex him so. "Are you attempting to impress?"

It shouldn't have enthralled him to see your behavior switch so abruptly at the sound of his nasal voice, with what was initially a calm expression turning tense, perhaps expecting staff instead of your husband. Divorce wasn't an option.

The royal family had a history with divorce that has nearly ruined them on several occasions, and yet another divorce in the line of succession wouldn't be allowed under any circumstances. Unhappiness and scandal could be overlooked, but divorce was a different story entirely.

"Hm, perhaps not." A noncommittal shrug overtook his shoulders, his eyes flitting about the room in disinterest. Pictures of William and the occasional picture of you both lined nearly every surface, grown dusty from time—the fact that you haven't taken residence here since before Harry's birth made the lack of photos of him stand out in Charles's mind.

"I suppose I ought to get on with it," his feet carried him to the very edge of the four-poster bed; he watched you carefully to make sure you had no objections to him sitting, sinking down rigidly atop the floral bedding."It's time we find common ground in this marriage, if not for ourselves, then for the children."

An unreadable flicker caught in your eye at the mention of the children. No matter the troubles the two of you faced throughout this sham of a marriage, he couldn't deny the love you held for the boys; it was one of your few redeeming qualities to him.

"As we know, divorce isn't an option," his fingers dug into the pastel floral duvet. "Are you willing to find an agreement between us, or is this yet another wasted venture?"