At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 10

It was true that she was helpless. Like the night he'd waxed her, she was captured against the bed, her limbs forcibly spread and held tautly in place by his ropes. And woefully, there was something tantalizing about being bound before him again - something about being exposed in every way and being utterly subject to his whims.

There was more to this, too. If she could not escape, then what choice did she have but to enjoy his attentions? It was almost freeing in a way, to be absolved of such decisions and know it was useless to consider them - to be only here, before him, heady beneath all the warm pleasures he inflicted.

Was that his intent? She was spared more consideration on this front at he placed his hands against her thighs, spreading them yet wider, and then lowered his mouth between them. Before long, his tongue was tracing her folds, his breath hot against her moistening sex. Now that she was smooth, barren of hair, she could feel each tease and caress with yet more sensitivity - he was awaking tingles in nerves she had never known existed.

Again, the dampness clinging to her most sensitive crevice betrayed her. As did the flush spread across her cheeks. She felt a little jolt from his first contact; barely a feather-light touch, and it nearly sent her head spinning.

His tongue trespassed further, easing into her tight passage and teasing her with each intrusion and withdrawal, coaxing faint whimpers from her throat. Then his lips joined, his mouth clamping over her nub and suckling it with slow devotion.

He pulled away, but only barely. "Do you like that, Alais?"

She resisted a humiliating noise of complaint as he paused his ministrations. "I think—" It was more of a struggle to form words at this point. But she had just enough clarity of mind to know this: he didn't need her to stroke his ego, as it was large enough as it was. "I think you like hearing the sound of your own voice."

Her voice was soft, barely a breath so that it would not betray her tightening coil of sensation, but she still managed to summon a flavor of saucy impertinence all the same.

A flicker of surprise touched his features, his fingers tightened ever so slightly at the cheek. But after a moment, he only laughed. "You do love evading my questions." Lazily, he let his tongue slip out again, flicking it tauntingly against her nub. "Perhaps you're right. But I think I enjoy the sound of your voice even more - struggling to suppress the pleasure I give you."

Another gasp tore from her, her back arching just ever so slightly, as much as it could, as her head pressed against the pillows. The mounting pressures from his gifts was growing more and more palpable with each skillful lick, as her half-lidded eyes stared into the ceiling. She struggled in vain against the ropes, but they held fast, keeping her splayed wide open for him even as her tremors gave him full evidence of his effect. It really wasn't fair.

"Yes," he said, chuckling when she writhed unsuccessfully. "Just so. Now, relinquish yourself to me. Enjoy this."

He said that sort of thing fairly often, didn't he? Give in to me, You are mine, or (this new one) Relinquish yourself to me. She wondered if he ever rehearsed that in front of a mirror, or if he were simply well practiced through experience alone.

If only these moments of internal sass could serve to distract her entirely from his trespasses. But no, as he lowered his lips again, she found her thoughts going white and blank as sweet pleasure purged all the rest.

There was more taunting and toying, as he always seemed to withdraw whenever she squirmed most needfully. But slowly, little by little, he allowed her to slip closer to the edge with each cycle. He spoke no more, his lips reserved only for those hungry kisses and his tongue for that maddeningly dexterous teasing. At last, with a final plunge of his tongue, he brought her to her climax.

She felt her muscles tense and ease in alternating succession, an intangible light behind her eyelids as she panted her final time.

"I can't," she cried, half delirious as she twisted against the ropes. "I can't..."

*

As it turned out, the evening prior to her tickling attack was the last night she spent alone. Not that the King limited his attentions to only the nights. He was insatiable - it didn't matter when it was or where they were; when he wanted her, he took her, and every time she was lost to the intensity of his ravishments. The remaining few days at the lodge passed in a haze of passion and lovemaking, interspersed only by food and drink and sleep.

Her ability to maintain pace was being tested, especially now when she had begun to approach every day with a fraught mixture of anticipation and trepidation. It was not the torment it could have been - quite the opposite - but his voracity risked tiring her out for all of its... voracity. The sleep that followed after, at least, was always a cathartic one, and she liked to think she had nothing too severe to worry about, so long as she maintained her brew. This final line she would not cross - she didn't think herself ready to cross even if the very concept of it repulsed her fundamentally. She did not want half of him growing within her belly like some parasite; this was the sole compromise she made for herself as she'd pledged so diligently to falsely submit the rest of herself to him. It seemed perfectly just.

The King, for his part, seemed to have reverted to that Duke Adrian personality that had been so affable before. He was suave, he was charming, and for all that he exhausted her with his appetite, he spoiled and pampered her just as much; outside of their wild romps, he was a convincing performance of gallantry and attention. Now and then there was some passing remark that shattered this illusion, such as offhanded references to plans of conquest or the occasional suggestion-that-was-really-an-order - but for the most part he was incredibly well-behaved. Especially compared to how cruel he had been before - and how cruel she knew he could be.

She didn't know how long it would last, this pleasant mood of his. Even before she had become (forcibly) acquainted with him, she'd long heard of King Alexander's reputation for his dangerous unpredictability. In considering this subject, she could not help remembering the advice that Duke Ethan had imparted all those days ago, after that chess match in the library.

"I wish I could tell you the King is not as terrible as the rumors would lead you to believe," the Duke had said. "But I cannot. He has his genuine moments of generosity and sometimes kindness, but he is not consistent. I tell you this not to discourage you, but to ward you from disappointment - and to arm you with knowledge. His mood changes swiftly. There are two things that set him off in particular."

"I appreciate your honesty," she had offered, having been otherwise unperturbed by the non-news of the King being terrible. And water was wet and pots and kettles were black and molten metal was also very, very hot. "Which two things?"

"You can already guess at the first. The King has...what you might call control issues, and if you show him defiance, he instinctively sees it as a challenge to overpower. To that end, subtle deference is key."

"I see."

"The second danger is, well, his boredom." She remembered how Ethan had summoned an apologetic smile, at that. "When the King has an objective he can actively pursue, or if his interest is piqued by some novelty, he is... mostly fine. It gives him something to focus on. When he does not, he becomes restless. It is then that he begins to create his own - diversions."

"Diversions?"

"He provokes people. Toys with them." There had been an air of quiet exasperation to Ethan's voice, as if he were speaking of some troubling boyish habit, instead of the malevolent thing that it was. "The best way to defuse this is through distraction. If you can entertain him your way, he won't have to entertain himself."

"So we are his monkeys."

"All Kings must be attended to," he had replied, with a loose shrug. "Alexander is - unusually difficult, yes, but he is not without his greatness, or even his goodness. Sometimes. Keep him engaged and he will be more indulgent with you. Perhaps it won't even be too difficult, as he already seems quite fascinated by you."

Evidently fascinated enough to kidnap her, for all the good that had done. Alais had mused over this conversation more than once, and it was partially responsible for the tactic she had chosen to adopt. So far, it seemed to be working well - even better than she had anticipated. Perhaps her antics amused him, or perhaps she was catching him off guard enough to sustain his interest. Whatever it was, he was in good spirits whenever he was making conversation (or love) to her.

But she was naive to think it could go on forever. He was kind now, but sooner or later, his interest would wane and that cruelty of his would manifest again. Wouldn't it? (Some small part of her wondered if maybe it could last, that maybe she was different - but she firmly put aside such notions whenever they surfaced.) She would be ready, when it did. For now, she would make the most of it while it lasted, and buy enough time to find some permanent solution when they returned to court. No good would come out of fretting in the meantime.

*

On their last day, they spent one more (intimate) morning in the hot springs, and then readied themselves for departure by the afternoon.

"I hope you've enjoyed yourself," said the King, as he handed her into the carriage and climbed in himself. "Of course, it was all a little more eventful than I had planned, but at least you've had good company." He smirked, wrapping his arm about her as they set off.

Alais still thought the springs trysts utterly impractical, the morning spell having left her in some distant cross between dizzy and languid as she settled into the carriage. The difference with the way she treated his contact from their arrival was as drastic as heaven and earth.

"It got better," she admitted, as she nestled into his hold. She hadn't thought it would, but it did, though this in turn was for no lack of... effort, on her part, even as it may have seemed so effortless, so inscrutably natural, on the exterior. The act, of course, would have crumbled even under one microscopic note of disingenuity. (And she could not possibly hope to fool him if she could not fool herself, to some extent. So, yes, the feel of him was very pleasant, and she was, at least for the time being, safe with him.)

The unsteady rhythms of the carriage wheels rolling over the uneven paths had her near to dozing, but she thought to ask one more question, "What happens now?"

"I've had them prepare the wedding reception, while we've been gone, and there you will be formally announced. I think it will be quite the affair. There is much anticipation in my court about the new Queen, and undoubtedly they are all eager to meet you. That will be tomorrow, however - for tonight, you will rest." The King could not help amending, with a wicked smile, "Well, you will rest for some of it."

She felt a little shiver at these words, though not an unpleasant one.

He kept his arm about her, letting her lean against him as the carriage trundled merrily along. "You will meet your ladies-in-waiting in the morning," he continued. "All hailing from good families, of course. I think they'll serve you well. But should any of them disappoint you, you may, of course, request replacements. Within reason."

Of course they would be Obsivian noblewomen. She didn't yet remind him of her request for her handmaiden from home - he couldn't have forgotten, in such a short span of time.

"We should arrive by nightfall," he told her.

Alais looked out the window, at the trees and foliage whipping by them, and the lodge in the distant hilltop growing smaller and smaller. For all the troubles she had experienced in this place, the natural scenery had been beautiful here, and (mostly) tranquil. It had also been isolated - she felt as if the King had secreted her here to enjoy for himself, far and away from the rest of the world.

Now they would be returning to that world, and whatever awaited them there.

*

Alais napped restfully for much of the journey back to the palace, a head laying lightly against his shoulder and later falling unconsciously toward his lap during a particularly sharp turn. If this wasn't the crowning indication of her inscrutable ease about him, she wouldn't know what was.

Their return was marked by subdued fanfare; she later learned that they had entered by the East Gate, a smaller and more roundabout route (though still decked with enough soldiers and guards to take out a village) that had less eyes and crowds. The King stepped out, into the courtyard, turning to help her do the same, but he was interrupted by a shout.

"Alexander!" What looked to be a tall, finely-dressed woman (it was hard to tell, with how fast she moved) had seemingly emerged from nowhere, and was embracing him at once.

The King appeared surprised, but only momentarily. "Ada, you're not supposed to be here," he said, but the expression on his face was a mixture of fondness and relief, as he hugged her in turn. "I've been worried," he said, in a lower tone of voice.

Fortunately, Alais was perfectly capable of helping herself down the carriage. Dresses always made the feat more cumbersome than they could have been, but with one foot after the other, she duly managed.

"You've been worried!" the woman was saying, with some indignation, though she too was smiling. "What about the attempt on your life?"

He laughed. "That was nothing. It's always nothing." He released her, remembering that he had not returned alone. "Alais," he said, shifting so that their view of each other was not impaired, "this is my sister, Princess Adeline. And Ada, you've heard of my newly crowned Queen."

Adeline's expression smoothed, becoming more serene, as she dipped in a pleasant half-curtsy. "Your Majesty." She was quite beautiful - of regal bearing and statuesque figure, and tall like her brother. She was dressed, too, in the latest styles, though the frills and ribbons of her gown straddled the ambiguous line between fashionable and fanciful. She bore the most resemblance to Alexander in the set of her mouth (with that touch of complacency) and in the slight glimmer of mischief in her eyes, but with softer lines by far and an acute sense of delicacy. She took Alais's hand, gently. "I've been so looking forward to meeting you."

"Hello," Alais returned, a bit tentatively as she dipped into a curtsy of her own.

Well, time for another pretense. Though now was the time, she recognized, to be genuine as opposed to immaculate in her disposition. And what was a genuine greeting for one in her position? One with kindliness, certainly, but not without its dose of self-awareness. Evidently, it was not a well-kept secret that her recent marriage to the King tread the lines of unorthodox. Extremely so.

Her bearings were as best and sweet and well-mannered as they could be, but a joyful greeting at this point may have seemed a touch disingenuous. "I'm very happy to meet you, Your Highness." Your Highness. She still missed being called Your Highness. No matter how she looked at it, everything had happened far too quickly to be truly comfortable. "But, apparently, you're not supposed to be here." Her other hand lifted to lightly cover their shared grip, and the faint spark in both eye and smile suggested she was not at all being serious about what she said.

She had a brother too, after all, and were it not for her meticulous self-coachings, the reminder of what she was forced to leave behind might have stung.

"If we were always where we were supposed to be, I suspect life would be so much less interesting," returned Adeline, with a somewhat conspiratorial smile. She clasped her new queen's hands, with apparent warmth - genuine or feigned, she at least shared her brother's capacity for seeming affable. "I know you must be terribly overwhelmed, but could I entreat you to supper with me tonight? I should like to become better acquainted, and if I don't steal you away now, I don't know when I'd next see you! You'll be terribly busy, I imagine, with all this wedding business."

"Alais is very tired," the King intervened, smoothly, though he seemed to be nursing a smile of some sort. "And she has a long day ahead of her tomorrow." He turned to regard his wife, with a pleasant expression. "My sister is very enthusiastic, but you need not indulge her if you are fatigued. I assure you that she enjoys exaggeration and knows full well she'll see you before long."

"How terrible of you," said Adeline, swatting at his arm, though it was good-natured. She smiled broadly at Alais. "He's merely afraid of us forming an alliance against him. He's very suspicious like that, you'll soon see." Despite her pleasant demeanor, her gaze remain quite fixed on the other woman, and her look was not without a touch of shrewd assessment. "But of course, if you need your rest, I wouldn't dream of taking you from it."

The Princess seemed perfectly friendly, though Alais could not help but also muse whether there were ... less pleasant aspects of her, behind this veneer of delicate courtesy. Either way, it would not make an impact on the mindful, amiable way with which Alais would treat her. It was true that she was not innately gregarious, especially not in circumstances of short notice. But fortunately, her mode of operation was not to blindly shy away from those reaching out, but through astute navigation and expert faking - not that she had much to falsify in the first place. Her lethargy had been much improved by her carriage nap, and she certainly hadn't taken to disliking Adeline during these first impressions. From a wholly impartial viewpoint, there should have been nothing unlikable about her whatsoever, aside from her close ties to His Majesty.

Her eyes flitted thoughtfully from the King to his sister (why were they both so tall?), before she chimed in, "But I'd already slept the whole way back, and it's just supper, isn't it? I'd be having it anyway."

Could it be that the Princess was like another Duke Ethan, with the potential for insight? Either this, or more hidden cruelty - or that she was exactly as she seemed on the exterior (so rare, these were). Difficult to tell at this point, but... "Why not?"

"Oh, excellent," Adeline enthused, giving her fingers an extra squeeze to emphasize her delight. She beamed, aiming a teasingly triumphant look in her brother's direction, as if she had bested him. "I knew he could not get in our way, no matter how hard he tried."

"Yes, I could never compete," said the King, smiling. "Go on then, enjoy yourselves and your conspiracies." His gaze lingered just a touch on his wife. "I'll see you later."

Alais slipped him a soft and pleasant smile, and they went their separate ways.

She made note of the interaction, though. Among all those in his kingdom (Ethan included) that she'd observed so far, the Princess appeared to be the only one who acted with complete freedom and absence of fear, in his presence; she seemed entirely comfortable, without any indication that she perceived him as a danger.

And in the King's manner, Alais likewise discerned that he appeared less threatening than she'd ever perceived - he'd exhibited pleasantness, yes, and charm, certainly, but not this kind of familial affection. Huh. Blood ties really were different for him. Alais had gathered as much during (technically right before) the boating incident, and this in turned dulled the edge of any great astonishment for him acting more like a human around his sister, even if in the most subtle ways. She filed the information away with the tidbits about his brother in self-imposed exile, for it was useless to her currently.