At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 06

Authors: Thank you for all your lovely feedback, as always - and for chiming in with regards to our publishing rate! There were preferences either way, but it seems like the majority of you favor longer chapters and slower updates. We'll just maintain our current rate then, which is about a chapter (3-4 pages) every one to two weeks. We wish we could go faster for you guys, but one of us has a full-time job and the other is a full-time student, so we're not always able to make as much time for this as we want. We can promise you that we'll keep you regularly posted in comments, however, if we come across delays!

We also appreciate all the discussion the story has generated! There will be a lot of fluctuation in terms of Alais's strategy, Alexander's treatment, and the dynamics between the two of them; what happened last chapter isn't the established standard, nor this one.

Oh, and look out for a little comment game at the end of this chapter!

*****

The morning light broke through the latticed windows with a gentle warmth, and that was the first thing that greeted Alexander as he slowly stirred from his slumber. The second thing was the tickle of fragrant hair at his nose, and a sense that there was a smaller, softer body ever so slightly nestled against his side. As his memories returned, along with a realization of who this bed companion was, he found himself resisting a smirk.

"Well, good morning there," he intoned, somewhere close to her ear. His arm had eased out, sometime during the night, and her head rested lightly on it, close to his own.

There was no missing the way her body went frigidly alert (to contrast that heated blush on her face) upon the realization of where she awoke.

Wordlessly, she half-slid half-scooted the short distance back to the edge - before she turned away and staring abashedly at the far wall, her hands anxiously gripping the sheets to her form. No answer fell from her lips, though he could hear the increased tempo of her breaths, matching the rise and fall of her chest.

During the final moments of awareness, he remembered his bride had been still adamantly clinging to that very same edge. The fire had probably flickered out in the middle of the night, leaving the room to chill to the natural effects of the ambient night-temperatures; she must have shifted toward center in some subconscious desire for warmth. It was not wholly unexpected, as there was only so much room on the bed, after all.

That didn't stop him from his teasing. "Making yourself comfortable, I see."

He grinned, catlike, watching her only half-open eyes. He shifted to stretch lazily, an all-bodied affair, such that his arms spread way past the headboard and his toes scraped the opposite end.

Turning, so that he rested upon his side, he propped his head up with a hand and regarded her with a thoughtful look. Facing the wall, she was inadvertently exposing her upper back for his viewing, and he took a moment to admire the delicate little ridges of her spine. He smiled to himself, allowing her to avoid the subject, for now - she'd given him enough for the night, hadn't she?

All in all, he was remarkably pleased by the events of his wedding night, which had superseded his expectations; he knew he'd enjoy her, youthful and comely as she was, but he could not have guessed at the degree of her sensitivity. It was quite promising - and it had only been a small taste of what lay in store. He had plans for his new acquisition, and he intended to enjoy the slow introduction of these perverse pleasures.

Neither did he think hed'd been overly cruel to her. He'd been malignantly motivated, perhaps - by forcing her to unwanted stimulation simply because he willed it, he demonstrated the power he had over her very body; it was not enough to simply take his pleasure, for what mattered more was shattering her detachment from it. Nonetheless...he had imparted a great deal of pleasure to her. Really, he thought smugly, she should have been quite grateful.

In any case, the fruit of his exertions meant that he was in a fairly good mood, and that made him almost amiable.

"There's a scenic trail through these woods, broad enough to accommodate riding," he informed her. "The path continues to the cliffs - a steep road in some aspects, but the vantage is quite stunning. Would you like to see it?"

She was still silent.

He laughed, propping himself up. "Your enthusiasm is downright daunting." Leaning down, he ghosted her temple with a kiss, and nudged her forward - briefly surprised when there was absolutely no reaction to these attentions. "Hmm. Go on then, get dressed."

Alexander kept an eye on her, in anticipation of further mischief. This one had a tendency to surprise him, if her stint in the wardrobe had anything to show. But after a moment, she merely rose from the bed, stiffly taking the sheets with her, and head to her dressing chambers in compliance.

*

This attitude persisted past their waking moments and into the morning.

His new queen had withdrawn into herself. Her features clouded over with a dazed and distant look, and not a single syllable threatened to pass through her lips. This would easily have won his irritation, had she been intractable and obstinate along with it. But no - she obliged to every one of his commands and even his suggestions, without so much as a show of resistance. Indeed, instruction seemed to be the only thing she knew to acknowledge, as if she were a half-made mechanical doll of sorts. She followed where directed, ate when encouraged.

The other, much smaller change was that she now wore a silk ribbon tied around her neck - ostensibly to conceal those lovely bite marks he'd left all over her skin. While it matched well enough with her day's gown, the maids had all sworn to seeing it upon her throat as early as she'd walked, a little unsteadily, into their grooming care (of course while covered in a brand new shift), and how she had reacted with something close to violence at every attempt to remove it. In every other instance, they reported, she had made herself utterly subdued, docile, and pliable. Were it not for her eerie silence, her sudden development of calmness might even have been an improvement from the past days.

Well, calmness was the kinder way to put it - a trancelike (comatose) impassiveness would be more accurate.

Alexander helped her to her horse - naturally sidesaddle, as was proper - and mounted his own, a more modest chestnut in place of his usual massive steed. Then they were off, followed discreetly by the customary entourage of servants and knights. Soon, he and his mute wife were riding side by side, at a gentle pace.

"You're a little quiet today," he observed, in what had to be one of the crowning understatements of their acquaintance.

As they rode along, he cast his eye over her, considering this newfound... state of hers, and how he might handle it.

At first, he made a mild attempt at pleasant conversation, speaking to her of the woods that they traversed, and recounting one or two anecdotes of his past adventures here. When this failed to elicit any reaction, he decided to allow her her distance and solitude; not generally one inclined to chatter, anyway, he fell into a peaceable quiet himself.

This was relatively kind of him, when he could have reacted with more characteristic cruelty. His benevolence was more impulsive than deliberate; he was still vaguely inspired by Ethan's reasoning, but he was also in one of his fairer moods, after a night where he'd claimed his bride to his satisfaction. Content with their progress, it was now easier to acknowledge that there were advantages to being generous, and he felt little difficulty in allowing his good mood and indulgence to surface.

And so, he decided today to be pleasant and patient, to coax her out of her strange condition, and, in short, to woo her back into life. This was not so much a thought-out strategy as it was a mood - perhaps, less generously, a whim. She was simply a little overwhelmed, he reasoned - perhaps still coming to terms with some of the emotions and passions of the night prior (it was a rather transformative experience, Alexander thought smugly). She merely needed some time, perhaps a few hours or so, and then she'd snap out of this marionette daze of hers.

They continued on, and he maintained this same patience throughout their shared riding. No more mention was made of her silence, and he was even rather considerate about it; he continued to be quiet himself, speaking only when utility called for it. On occasion, he would caution her about a treacherous step or an unsteady patch of ground, and a few times he dismounted to guide her through. In all this, his demeanor was downright solicitous.

The truly bizarre thing was that, in sporting this side of himself, Alexander was not, in fact, being insincere. It would perhaps have made more sense if he were putting up a facade, and was faking his goodwill. But this was not the case. Though he certainly could be cruel, the spectrum of his moods and capacities stretched very broadly; just as he could be genuinely malicious, he could also be genuinely agreeable. His current actions, though partially motivated by pragmatism, also came from a temporary but real spirit of generosity; he did, in those moments at least, desire to guide her from unease.

They stopped midway up the trail to take lunch, an affair that was only slightly less extravagant than the luxurious breakfast spread of their morning. Then there was further trekking, and upwards they went, through the narrow winding path and the pleasant forest noises of the animals within.

Finally, they emerged into the open cliffside - the trees fell away suddenly, granting them the reprieve of exposed air and expansive skies. "Come," he said, after they dismounted. He offered her his arm, guiding them forward and closer to the view.

The perspective really was beautiful - with veritable waves of tree-lines spreading to the horizon, and the distant silhouettes of the snow-capped mountains beyond. Alexander breathed in the crisp air, looking upon his lands with satisfaction, which was only stifled a little when he saw the utterly empty effect this had on his companion.

He had them sit and enjoy the view for a while (enjoy being a generous description of her impassivity), occasionally pointing out landmarks that he recognized or clusters of areas with the best game. Not a single response was to be returned, however, and she did not even flinch and wince away - as she had before - when he brushed close to her. The effect was bizarre; he was left with the impression of dragging along with him a compliant, life-sized doll - pretty, but lifeless.

The wind danced playfully with the hair, blowing some of it in her eyes which would have almost certainly caused it to obstruct her view, but she did nothing for it. It was only when the all-important ribbon itself began to shift with the gales that she made her motions to make the proper readjustments, before falling back into that lasting state of vacancy.

Alexander's one-sided conversation managed to push him into another phase: that of finding her behavior funny. A few quips in undertone introduced themselves here and there, such as a "You really should quiet down, I can barely get a word in" or "Even I wasn't aware I had such a devastating effect," or the ever awful "I did not know I had taken both your maidenhead and your voice." This was sufficient to divert himself, for now.

He did not have them linger too long. The cliff gave way to a sharp, precipitous drop, and Alexander always felt a strong inclination, when he was in high places, to send someone hurtling off. Deciding to save himself from the temptation, he saw her back to their horses and shepherded them home.

The return trip was fairly non-descript. Alexander spent the rest of the ride conversing with his knights, since she had proven to be an unequal conversation partner.

*****

The gorgeous view was not completely lost on Alais. When her thoughts grew quiet, she liked to imagine she was standing here, alone, in a world where she had never met him, never entangled herself in his attentions, was never taken by him (in all the ways), and actually found the panorama quite breathtaking in her partitioned-off mindspace.

And, in the back of this mindspace, somewhere closed off and unacknowledged, she did find his one-sided commentary a little funny.

Her...absence wasn't just for coming to terms with the events of last night, though that was included. Alais had buried herself into her mind, where there was a veritable mountain of things to come to terms with. For one, just how exactly was she meant to reconcile the loathing she felt (yes, it did finally slip into loathing) for him with the physical attraction that no longer could be denied, as proven by the past evening? For another, did it really need to be loathing? Not because he killed Edmure and the knight and a whole slew of other irrelevants, but because he had thrown open those gates to a whole new wanton world of sensations within her? That didn't seem right.

If she couldn't hate him for being a horrible human being, it seemed silly to hate him for adhering to his marital obligations...albeit in that way of his.

And then there was her personal predicament: a Queen in name, but effectively a slave to him. It was futile, again, to deny his ownership with the exception of actually impulsively running away - out of the question, and he hadn't even needed to convince her otherwise; she wasn't stupid. The notion repulsed her wholly, but she literally had no other means of reaction. The only solution, then, was to... not be repulsed? And how was she to manage that?

And she hadn't even begun to mull over that sickeningly cloying response he stirred in her lower belly. Unbidden, memories of the night they shared had a maddening tendency to flicker whenever he drew near - the firmness of his chest against hers, the touch of his tongue and lips down there... How could she be blamed for burying away those distractions, if only so she had time to think?

She had no hope of processing any of these flighty, changeable, and overly complex ruminations if she was to fully register his presence so near to her. It was odd, the way she blotted him out while still maintaining the bare minimum of awareness to fulfill his whims. Somehow, it managed to function.

Still with the same vacant expression as ever, she slipped her wrist through his arm and followed, with every seeming obedience.

On return trip, and where they were very close to the lodge, she halted her horse suddenly (there was no harm in doing so, considering their remaining proximity and her uncompromising obedience thus far) and dismounted herself. The patch of wildflowers along the side of the road had commanded her interest once more, where everything else seemingly failed to. She did so very quietly, and to those riding up front, particularly the ones who were beginning to take advantage of her complacency and thus paid less attention to her, her odd little intermission might have gone entirely unnoticed.

She took only a few moments to manually pick out a bundle of flowers by the root, laying them one by one across her lap eventually to be deposited in her satchel. They were pretty, frivolous things; it was not commonly known that the right combination of dried petal and root - combined with a special ingredient stowed away inside a hidden compartment of a certain clockwork necklace - boiled in water, could brew a tea with the potent effect of expelling unwanted seed from a fertile woman's body.

Once she was satisfied with her gathering, she wordlessly helped herself up back onto the mare and followed the procession back to the lodge.

The maids had of course learned their lesson and kept a watchful, nearly reproachful eye on her for the last night. However, pity and compassion were not all nonexistent; they allowed her to tend to her own beverage during dinner, for she seemed rather insistent in doing so.

Come night time, the remaining wildflowers gathered from earlier were propped up in a pretty vase atop the nightstand. She felt more at ease, after having taken her covert dietary supplement. It gave her great satisfaction knowing that this one thing he set out to achieve would never bear fruit (literally and figuratively), so long as she remained vigilant. She also never thought she would ever need to resort to one of Nana's ingeniously discreet concoctions, but such were the state of affairs.

*****

When Alexander returned to their chambers that evening, he found her neither in the wardrobe, not underneath her bed, but sitting atop the latter with her hands on her lap, the distant trance utterly unchanged from the morning.

He leaned against the bedpost, his eyes on her. "No hide and seek today?" he queried, with a twist of his lips. He had half-expected her to be hanging from the ceilings, at this point, so resourceful had she been in divining previous hiding spots. "Then again," he continued, unable to help a trace of idle taunting, "I suppose it doesn't make sense to delay your own pleasure, now that you've developed a taste for it."

He smirked. He doubted this was really the case, but was happy to frame it as such, especially when she was not disposed to deny it. His gaze went past her, for a moment, to the colorful wildflowers set in the vase. He'd seen her, from a distance, picking those flowers, and had allowed her to do so - what was the harm? She hadn't struck him as the type to engage in this kind of frivolity, but then, he hardly knew her.

She didn't move.

Alexander approached her, hand finding her chin. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers, slowly deepening the kiss as his tongue slipped inside. Her mouth opened mechanically, but there was otherwise no response - she remained still and unresponsive, eyes diverted ahead. It was as if he were kissing a beautiful statue.

"Alais, Alais. Why must you be so difficult?" He withdrew, sighing.

"I have been quite reasonable, you know," he continued, but was just self-aware enough to amend, "since our wedding. Have I not been generous, or made effort to be patient? Have you wanted for anything since you've been under my care?" He could not help but show the traces of a smirk, at the next in the series. "Have I not," he went on, "given you pleasure?"

Indeed, Alexander did not think he had caused her any special grievance. By right of marriage, it was his right to enjoy his wifely property; and when he had claimed her, he had made quite the effort to ensure her enjoyment alongside his. True, he acknowledged that her situation was still wholly "unfair," in the grand scheme of things, but he also knew that he could have been much, much crueler, if he had had the inclination. She should have counted herself fortunate, all things considered.

"And what does this - " he gestured over her still, listless body, " - do for you? What do you think will come of it, Alais? That I will disappear if you will it hard enough?" His hand went to her hair, tucking a few stray strands behind her ears. "It doesn't work like that. You are mine, now more than ever, and it does you no favors to deny it."

He allowed his fingers to run lightly through those dark curls. "Consider what a pleasurable life you could lead, if only you'd let me in."

She finally shifted, but it was only to swivel from him, toward the far wall.

At once, his grip tightened over her hair, forcing her to regard him. "Don't turn from me," he said, in a quieter voice. It was a kneejerk reaction, driven little by rationality and more by a sudden flare of frustration.