At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 08

The King quirked a smile of his own, his gaze drifting to the mare. "I didn't realize you'd grown attached. Are you fond of her?"

There was something endearing about the way she - that was, Kumquat - blithely circled His Majesty three times before cantering to a halt, before the servants had taken their mounts away. She considered doing just the same as she saw him pat the space next to him, but decided against it.

Instead, she obligingly approached, and took her seat on the other side of him. The blanket was large enough as it were. The King only gave a shake of his head and a laugh. Nothing but gracious, however, he reached for her plate to serve her first.

"I do like her," she agreed. "What about ... that big one," she pondered, thinking to his great beast of a warhorse. His present horse was still quite a ways larger than hers, but it was dwarfed by the black stallion that he had favored during her expedited transport all those days ago. "Does he have a name?"

He smiled, knowing immediately which horse she was referring to. "Storm," he answered, simply. After a moment, though, he sighed, as if deciding to concede something. "King Storm, technically." It sounded awful - it might as well have been Midnight Lightning or Emperor Sword, and he looked like he knew it. "I was young," he explained, "when he was given to me."

"I... like King Storm," she admitted, though she couldn't help a surprised smile. "I think I shall call him by his full title. It's more unique that way."

She'd honestly expected something exceedingly regal - which King Storm was, granted, but less like a child had been the mastermind behind it. There was nothing wrong with children naming things. King Storm was a perfectly suitable name; to imagine the King as a child dwarfed the rest of it in absurdity. Had he been born...this way, or did he simply discover he had no need for such things as common morality?

"He'll be pleased that you're showing the proper respect," he returned, with a smile of his own. He finished heaping her plate with a substantial splatter of food, handing it gallantly back to her before he began serving himself.

"But of course. I'm only surprised you'd allow another King to rule in your lands," she said. It had always been far too easy to fall into their natural banter - and how convenient that she no longer had to resist it now, or feel irritated at herself for doing so. Weren't things less complicated this way? She kept her tone playful and only teasingly impertinent. "Seems a careless monarch to allow someone to contest his title so."

He laughed. "You know, I think you may be right. How fortunate that my queen is willing to point out political dangers that have eluded me." He accepted a basin offered by the servants, dipping his fingers in to wash. "He belonged to my brother, at first, but their temperaments were ill-matched and Cassius could never control the beast - Storm was notoriously difficult, even as a colt."

"So your temperament did match, then? Are you conceding that you may be difficult?" she returned.

The King smiled, his gaze meeting hers. "I like a challenge."

Alais had a feeling he wasn't just talking about horses now. She remained silent for a moment, before admitting, "I know I should still be upset with you. With this." What with this discussion of difficult, it seemed like a fair enough segue into explaining her new... behavior. So that it was not utterly outlandish. "But I'm tired of that. And willing to move on."

The King made a slice off the roast duck, for himself, the knife handled dexterously between his fingers. (Almost absently, she wondered how many lives he'd taken with a blade.) "How pragmatic of you," he said, though it didn't sound negatively flavored, as it could have been. "And it's as simple as that for you, is it? Moving on?"

He smiled at her, his tone still light - though his gaze had an assessing quality.

It wasn't simple at all. But after days of intense thought and preparation, she found herself arriving at only one conclusion. She could be as indignant and miserable as she liked, but indignation and misery would not help her any - nor would mindless defiance or outright resistance. He had laughably more power over her than she had over him, and to wage war so flagrantly would mean certain defeat (and humiliation, torment, etc.). She would not give up on her life for the sake of vain ideals. Even were she not thus invested, there was her family to think about, if she were to indulge in some ill-conceived plan for escape.

No, she had to be more circumspect with her methods, less direct. It was not a surrender, but an adaptation of methods. He probably knew this too, but it worked in his favor, so why would he discourage it?

Obviously, she could say none of this. "We all have our foibles, you know. No marriage would last if husband and wife held on to all the transgressions of the past," she said - and had the audacity to bump him teasingly in the elbow, strengthened by this new affection of hers. Nevermind that his transgressions rather outweighed the norm.

Not inclined to linger on the topic, she went on, as if recollecting, "So what happened the other day, when you behaved so strangely?"

"Which day?" he asked, blithely. He had, to be fair, behaved in arguably strange ways on more than one occasion.

She delicately nibble at her fork. "The day of the shrine visit," she clarified. It wasn't worth mentioning that this strangeness had begun the evening prior, when he'd abandoned her on that bed, in that hungry state.

"Oh. That's all over now," he said, opaquely. "A false alarm and exaggerated first reports." He did go on, however, after a pause. "I thought my sister's life in danger."

This sounded almost too benign, as if he were a normal person with normal brotherly concerns. She couldn't tell if he was being sincere.

On the other hand... she was silent again, as if anticipating that her reaction would have been under a keen scrutiny. She wondered if he'd consider her condition to be one of danger. How did he rationalize subjecting other sisters to similar dangers?

"We wouldn't have visited the shrine until the end of our trip, otherwise," he went on, conversationally. Another smile. "You must have been quite mystified by my behavior."

"You are rather mystifying, I'll grant you. But I'm glad it was nothing."

"Well, I have to be at least a little confusing. I couldn't let you have all the fun, can I?" He sliced his way through more meat. "She's quite eager to meet you, my sister. She would have already, were she not abroad."

Her eyes looked to visibly lighten. "I suppose I won't be leading a lonely existence after all, when you're not around." Or otherwise preoccupied by noisy maidservants.

"No, you'll have no lack of company. All manner of people will be seeking you out, after I finish hoarding you to myself." He glanced at her again. "Do you enjoy social gatherings and the like?" They knew so little of each other when it came to details like that - hobbies and interests, which more proper couples would have gotten out of the way much beforehand.

"That... sounds like something you'd ask a recently met stranger." She picked at a piece of glistening roast with a prong. "I like them as much as I need to."

"So if it wasn't needed, you wouldn't like them at all?" he asked. Teasingly, he added, "It must be quite the chore to have juggled all those suitors. Hmm - how noble I am to have saved you from such troubles." He grinned, his humor terrible and self-aware all at once.

There it was again, that faint spark of a smile to suggest she was candidly in tune with their sweet banter. She would have likened this new attitude to a game, but it was also so much more than a game.

"You did spare me from some hassle." And, in turn, exposed her to a universe of new ones, as they both well knew. As long as she could survive them, all would be well (or so she now needed to believe). "What kind of person did you think I would be?" she ventured, popping a bite into her mouth.

The King considered. "An interesting one," he settled on. "You haven't disappointed in that regard."

"That's such a cheat," she said, flashing him a smile. "To say someone is 'interesting' can mean nothing at all."

"Actually, it means quite a bit. People in general are fairly boring." Despite his tone, he didn't sound like he was altogether joking. "And what about me," he continued, amused. "What kind of person did you expect?"

In her Obsivian internment thus far, she thought she had experienced multiple modes of the King. There was Suave King, or the Default King - smug and self-assured, with a tendency to be disarming were it not for her awareness of the other prominent modes: Angry King and Venomous King. And it was often difficult to tell which response would lead to whom.

"A violent one, obviously. Your Majesty stabbed me, remember?" There was not a drop of bitterness in her tone.

"It was only meant to be a prickle, but the fault was mine for underestimating how much you'd struggle," said the King. He almost managed to sound gallant about the affair, as if taking the blame for an embarrassing faux pas. "How is your arm doing? I hope my bandages helped in the meantime."

She extended her arm, letting the sleeve slip alongside her elbow, and held it up to the sunlight. "Much better." There were no more bandages, and all that was left was a pale and pink mark that would disappear in time. "Even if you tried digging into it again -" Because yes, she remembered that too. "It'll finish healing up just fine."

"That was quite fast, actually." The King reached for her wrist, when offered, drawing it closer to himself for inspection. His thumb brushed lightly over the pale mark, as if recounting the memory too; his eyes were on her, almost curious to see if this would elicit any reaction.

"You speak as if you bear me no ill will for it at all," he said, still lightly. Oh, this topic again. She should have known he wouldn't let it go that easily. "How do you reconcile your love with it?"

"As I said, ill will is tiring," replied Alais, without even flinching. Somewhere beneath the surface of her consciousness, she might have felt an echo of last week's pain. But she was already that much determined to no longer qualify his touch as a threat. "And there are different kinds of love."

"Well, I've never seen anyone decide to love, and with such conviction," said the King, looking amused again. "Though I don't know that 'love' is the proper term for it." He glanced over her arm again, before lowering his lips and pressing a gentle kiss next to the fading scar. Sounding amused, he added, "But I will treasure it all the same."

As he released her arm, he picked up a napkin and wiped his hands. "I feel I should be generous in turn, after such a favorable change," he said. He smiled magnanimously at her. "Is there anything you've wanted for, while you were here?"

She had already asked for her falcon, and she hesitated, considering the dangers of what else it was that she wanted for. No matter how he spruced up her sudden queenly fame, it was a little lonely being surrounded by a sea of faces she scarcely recognized. But if she asked for this now, it could be used against her later. Everything she did or said could always be used against her.

In the spirit of favorable change, however... She smiled distantly. "I do miss a few of my old handmaidens."

"Never fear, I will provide excellent ladies-in-waiting to you," said the King, smiling. Excellent spies, she thought internally. "But I understand wanting more familiar company."

As they finished their meal, the King made inquiries into her handmaidens of choice, promising that she would soon have her desired company. Actually, he was back to being so pleasant today that she wasn't sure if she were the one charming him or it was the other way around. He continued to remain (seemingly) considerate of her well-being, paying off every courtesy and chivalrous instinct that might be expected of the most vigilant nobleman - he made sure the selections were to her liking, asked if she were cold, and at one point forked over some of his grapes when hers fell from her plate. Was he playing a trick of his own? It was always so hard to tell - how fortunate that she had decided to no longer care, and acted as if it were all sincere.

At last, they were done, and he extended a hand to help her to her feet. As they left the picnic blanket, though, he paused rather idly to pick up a pebble and cast it into the lake.

"I was never very good at that," he remarked, almost to himself. He didn't linger on it, however, and beckoned her to follow, as he lead them to a waiting boat.

She watched him curiously, squinting as the pebble plopped into the lake. As she followed him, she bent down here and there to collect a few flat stones off the ground.

The boat took the form of a royal barge - extravagant, but that was hardly surprising after she'd seen his palace; judging by his matter-of-fact manner, he probably thought of this as standard. The barge itself was gilded with gleaming gold, broad enough to accommodate standing. Its design could well have passed for elegant, save for the fact that it incorporated two slaves on either end to row them.

She clinked the flat stones together in her hands as they were rowed out into the lake. Extravagance notwithstanding, it was actually a fairly mellow experience. Did he enjoy his fair share of mellowness too? She half-expected the lake to be filled with secret armies to vanquish, or something.

"Is this all?" she asked, perhaps a mite suspicious.

"Why, is my lady bored?" He settled down into a plush seat at the barge's center, pulling her into his lap as he did so - pleasant mood or not, he seemed accustomed to maneuvering her here and there as he pleased. As he gave a signal, the slaves began rowing in earnest, soon leaving the gaggle of attending knights and servants behind on the shore.

She didn't resist, feeling her back pressed against him (and his hard chest). "No," she answered. By residing close to seas for much of her life, she had no fear of great and deep bodies of water - not sailing, and especially not above one so pristine as Iona. And it was quite lovely out here, utterly surrounded by clear blue depths and golden sun. Glimmers of fish could be seen swimming just beneath the surface, and overhead, birds circled the skies lazily. "But it just seems too...innocent for you."

He laughed. "Perhaps you long for some of that excitement before?" He hand rested at her waist, giving a little squeeze as if to underline his words.

"I think we've had more than enough excitement on this trip. Any more and we'd burst from it." Alais cleared her throat. "Hold these, please." She took his hand from her waist and laid her stones over his palm with a few more clinks, which left her free to reach for the parasol left by the seats, and open it comfortably over their heads. There, the shade was much better.

Her cheeks were able to cool more rapidly beneath the umbrella too. She'd successfully schooled herself to no longer shy away from his contact, and his proximity, out of fear - but this did not mean it had been stripped of all impact. How nice it would've been, if it only had.

It was stupid, but the way her heart raced within her ribcage, situated on his lap like this, did fit that scheme of being in love with him. And the way his hand felt, resting at her waist in that proprietary way, likewise provided distraction.

"Ah, thank you." His gaze turned to the stones she had exchanged. "What are these for?"

"I gathered them while you weren't looking. After you threw that pebble." She cleared her throat again, shifting her grip on the umbrella's handle.

"For what purpose - to further embarrass me?" He separated one pebble from the rest, casting it into the lake, only for it to again sink on the second plop. He chuckled. "Well, perhaps you've succeeded in your objective."

"You're not even trying," she chided. Taking a stone for herself, she scrunched up her brows and gave a careful toss, sitting still as it skipped across the waters several times. "It's across the water - "

" - not into it, I know," he finished for her. He did smile though, seeing her best him. "It's not the methodology that's at fault."

"Perhaps. But you're much too forceful," she pointed out. "If I didn't know better, it's like you were trying to sink the stones."

"Maybe I don't know my own strength."

She looked at him, and the cocksure smile that he was sporting. "No, I think you know your own strength very well," she returned, with a teasing air. "I think your failure stems from lack of effort, not lack of awareness."

The King laughed. "That might be." He shifted her gently aside, so that he could stand. It was a somewhat risky enterprise, on the boat, but he was well-balanced enough that it gave him no trouble.

He fingered another stone in his palm, casting it also. This one fared better, if not by much, landing two skips away.

The sun, partially obscured, chose this moment to emerge from the hazy cloak of the clouds, shining its bright rays generously upon them and the reflective waters. Under the warmth of the light, the King looked particularly handsome, with his aristocratic features enhanced pleasantly and the blue of his eyes made more vibrant; even the prominent scar he bore upon his face seemed more faded and less menacing than usual. It would have annoyed her before, her attraction to him, but now she allowed herself to take solace in the picture (and not be too put off by the way her heart beat erratically in her chest).

Alais had easily resisted the advances of other men before, brushed them off for the frivolous things they were, even when there was (some degree of) mutual attraction involved - even that ludicrous teenaged sort. But he stood atop a different pedestal entirely. Their circumstances were unique, and she never knew another man who gave her so much reason for terror. But there was also been something about that, and the way he so easily asserted himself, which was a little alluring. It had been exhausting to repeatedly deny this to herself, before.

"It's funny," the King was saying. "The person who taught me to skip stones - he said something similar."

Steadily, she rose with her umbrella still in hand. When it seemed the barge was indeed stable enough, she stepped to the side of it. "Was it Prince Cassius?" came the mild mannered cadence of her voice. "I remember. He was like a rock whisperer."

He looked surprised, briefly, but merely smiled. "Yes, that he was. I forget sometimes that you knew each other," said the King. Knew, indeed - as if that was all. They had been engaged, before Edmure - before Cassius had abruptly disappeared and his younger brother claimed the throne.

The official story of the Crown was, and always had been, that Prince Cassius had removed himself from the line willingly and sought the isolation of some mountain monastery or another. But although this version of events had been much touted, and was generally known of, it remained consistently overshadowed by a more dreadful rumor - so widespread that many thought it a fact, albeit an ill-proven one: that the King had slain his brother in order to take the throne. The fact that Alexander had never revealed the exact locations of this "monastery," nor presented his brother at Court, was a troubling contributor.

It was not difficult to believe given what she had seen of him, but fratricide did seem on an altogether different tier of terrible.