Feels like forever since I've written something, and this is like a breath of fresh air. I miss you guys. :( TheYoung Victoria is my favorite movie- and has been for a long time. Therefore, it was only appropriate for me to write something for it, and my muse (the little rascal that she is) came up with this.

This is just a moment in the life of a Queen, where being a Royal isn't enough.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: It isn't mine; nor is the title, which derives from Sinead O'Connor's Only You, and some quotes from the movie.

A Castle of Stone

"Victoria."

She simply draws herself tighter into the sheets. A content sigh rolls off her tongue.

"No."

She smiles.

He stares for a while; at the porcelain skin of his Queen, and the freckles of his bride. He reaches out for a strand of raven-brown hair and watches it dance in between his fingers. He leaves the lock forgotten on the side, and instead sets his attention onto her flesh. A palm runs over and alabaster shoulder, in tune with a royal giggle.

"Might I ask why not?"

"Here, I feel normal- mad as it may sound."

She slips deeper under the sea of cloth, stilling only when her toes threaten to cascade over the edge of their bed. Nothing but a petite bulge remains.

Always one to stand strong beside her, he burrows down as well.

"What are we hiding from?"

He's wide-eyed, not that she would know.

Oh, how desperately he wants to see those azure eyes behold his own.

She seems to contemplate the inquiry, in the way her brows constrict together and the manner in which her mouth parts ever so and nothing emerges. She shakes her head in a gesture all too familiar to him, and still, he isn't allowed a glimpse.

"We're hiding from the world."

He hesitates. He isn't the most coordinated person out there, and their first encounter is a testament to that. But he tries. And so, he captures her hand in his, running her knuckles across his lips.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Cerulean orbs snap open with so much ferocity he is almost startled. That is until a humorous glow glosses over them.

He smirks.

"There they are."

And she has to fight the tugging at the corners of her mouth because she refuses to lose to him. She buries herself in his arms, and despite her best efforts, he feels her grin on the skin of his neck.

He laughs and she soon follows suit. He kisses her forehead tenderly. He pecks her nose. And he caresses her lips with his.

"Good morning, wife."

She simply draws herself tighter into his embrace. A content sight rolls off his tongue.

"Good morning."

They smile.