The Queen and Her Conquest (Closed for LordUsagi)

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((OOC: This thread is closed for LordUsagi. If you have any comments or feedback please feel free to PM)).



Queen Isolde smirked as she strode purposefully to her reception room. The heels of her boots collided with the gleaming white marble floors and sent the sounds of her footsteps thundering down the cavernous hall way. The sound of her boots was accompanied by the more delicate shuffle of the silk slippers of her handmaiden. It was a good day. Her soldiers not only managed to squash the rebellion like a helpless maggot, but they managed to catch a few of the rebels as they did so. There were few things that made her happier than a battle well won and new slaves around her palace. Plus, a slave taken from enemy ranks was all the more rewarding.

The Soldier’s that her General had caught had fought well, she had to concede that at least. They had fought until there was no hope left and then even beyond that. When they were surrounded they maintained their defence even though it was futile. They had been brought in under duress, and it had cost her the lives of three of her good soldiers. The long journey from the southern mountain range was treacherous enough without having to bring prisoners of war along, but the wit and courage of the rebels proved to be more dangerous than the landslides and frostbite.

Knowing that the slaves were in her palace, awaiting her inspection, filled her with a deep sense of triumph. Try as they might, not even the most venerable of their ranks was able to escape her justice.

The sound of trumpets erupted in the wondrous hall as the Queen approached the Reception Room. She smiled at the guards outside the door and they stopped their music to pull the silver gilt double doors back to allow her entrance.

The Reception Room was just as grand as the rest of the Palace of Ice. The walls and floor were made of stark white marble and most of the outer walls were frosted glass, allowing a soft muted light to filter into the majestic space. Along the centre of the room ran a carpet of red velvet, if Queen Isolde squinted, is could almost look like the trickle of blood spilt upon the ice. It was this carpet which she used to walk to her throne, a tall silver chair capped with large diamonds that glittered in the muted light more than they should have. The rest of the throne was carved and inlaid with precious crystals that were almost blinding to look upon.

Queen Isolde didn’t look at the new slaves as she walked past. It was better to let them know that they were not yet worthy of her attention. She wasn’t a cruel leader, to be sure, but she was firm and strict. Her enemies came from outside the boundaries of her mountainous icy home; from places that were hot, dry and just as desolate as the ice could be. They came from parts of the country where the mere thought of the warmth of another caused sweat to bead on your brow, your throat to dry up in anticipation of dehydration. Queen Isolde’s kingdom, however, was bitterly cold and desolate in a way that the others weren’t. In her country, the warmth of another body was not only a balm for the soul, it could be the difference between life and death. The men that were beneath her knew that, and they valued a woman’s body far beyond any treasure. This was why they served her; she knew the value of her own flesh, and that of the other women in her kingdom, and she used that power of that to her advantage. Under her reign very few were left to the bitter tendrils of a never-ending winter.

The lower status of the males is exactly why those outsiders believed they had a right to cross her borders. They believed that she had stripped her men of their rights, and that she had raised herself as an imposter in their stead. If they had stopped to ask, or tried to understand, they would have realised that her kingdom was a happy one. She was strict, but not cruel, at times they struggled, but no one fell behind, and most importantly she was not only loved; she was respected.

The Queen had to hold in her sigh of pleasure as she lowered herself upon the frigid throne, her pure white robes lined with mountain fox fur contrasting with the glimmering silver chair. She looked up, deep blue eyes surveying the rag-tag bunch of captives before her. She turned her head slowly, her sheet of midnight black hair falling over her left breast and blanketing the bodice of her silk dress. Twelve in all; and all so delectably different.

The youngest was just past his manhood, and the oldest looked as though he might not survive the week. Queen Isolde couldn’t help but be disappointed. She was hoping to see the spirited bunch she had heard so much about, not a haphazard collection of males who were barely able to stand. Starting from the young man on the left she took her time to rake her eyes over each of the men, assessing them, trying to determine their worth to her and her people. The Queen turned to her Handmaiden beside the throne with disappointment etched on her beautiful face. She was about to tell the girl to dismiss the new slaves when something small caught her eyes.

It wasn’t much really, just a flicker.

A flicker of resilience, a low-burning beacon of hope.

“You.” The Queen pointed to a man that she had previously overlooked. He was on the threshold of his autumn years, his body fit from what would have been years of travel, but not rock hard and bulging like some of his comrades. His hair was greying in a way that reminded her of the light fall of snow on a patch of obsidian. Now that she looked closer, she saw that resilience and hope weren’t the only thing lighting up his eyes; he was intelligent too, she could see that now. “What is your name?”
 
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Vernard knew she was looking at him, but he held his tongue in defiance against her icy stare, his own dark orbs bore back at her for a few seconds before flickering and lowering to the cold floor. He was a shrewd man and he paid attention to what happened around him, perhaps that was why he had survived longer than most and risen to up the ranks of the rebellious. He had heard the talk of those who disobeyed this woman and those who defied her rule, his own decimated army was surviving proof of that.

She may have them paraded before her in chains with naught but a short tunic to cover their modesty, but he would maintain his pride. This ice queen and her ilk would not break his will and he would stand defiant to the last breath, or till he escaped. But still one needed to temper their pride, and needless defiance was like standing against a desert storm.

Slowly his eyes rose from the ground to meet her questioning gaze again, a faint smile touched his lips as he pondered why she had picked him out from all the men paraded before her. He had heard his captors talk, as had his men, most of them would end up as bed slaves to the Queen and her senior officials. Some had even relished the idea, seeing it not only as a way to save themselves but also perhaps as desirable. Many of the women he had seen so far were not unpleasant to look upon, and the Queen herself was as hauntingly beautiful in person as he had heard. Vernard understood why many of the men were unwilling to die, they were still young and had never fully lived their lives, but he had lived the folly of youth already and bedding a woman would only be for love.

He was sure all his men had kept the secret that he was their Captain and surely he was not going to be chosen for other services. When they had been marched brought into the castle, he and his men had been stripped, doused in cold water to rid their bodies of any of the stench of battle and then inspected. A few of the Queen’s senior advisers, and some of the leaders, he had remembered from battle, had been present and they had marked some of the men with black coal on their chests. Each mark different and either paid for with coin or bought with favours. This he had learned was a way of staking a claim should the queen not choose a particular slave. All those who had been marked would end up as someone’s property, most likely in their bed or as a manual labourer if strong and able. Vernard suspected many of his men would be suitable for both. This whole marking seemed to follow seniority and they had learned that any slave not chosen by the queen went to the one who had paid for his mark. It was almost a game to them, who could chose the best slave that was not taken by the Queen. One captain had even offered herself to one of the more senior advisers in exchange for her choice. This had horrified Vernard, the thought of two women bedded together, it was unnatural.

In then end when all was done the only remarks Vernard had received were slight admiration's of his length and girth but the very old and sickly had not been marked, and neither had Vernard. He had even been overlooked when all the healthy, young strong men had been picked and instead some of the women present had declined to choose. He figured it was an issue of pride, one did not just chose any man in order to win the game, but one that was a least regarded as desirable by the majority.

Now he stood staring at her, the entire room quiet and absorbed in what was happening.
What could she possibly want with me, he thought, surely of all the men here I will not be the one she desires to warm her bed.
His eyes flicked to her handmaiden, and he recalled seeing her earlier during the choosing, perhaps the Queen was choosing him as a gift for her. The handmaiden was young and very pretty and Vernard pondered is she shared her Queen’s bed on occasion.
Then a thought struck him, and he felt slight admiration for the woman before him.
Perhaps she is choosing an unmarked man so as to reward loyalty. She is telling her subjects you earned my victory, and I will not take any of the spoils from you.

Pride was one thing but folly leading to your death was another.
He hesitated just long enough to show his defiance before answering.
“My name is Vernard,” he said staring back into her questioning eyes.
 
Queen Isolde

There it was again. That spark. That defiance. Queen Isolde's indifferent grimace morphed as the corners of her lips turned up in an amused smirk. His hesitation also showed that he was unlike the others.

"My name is Vernard," He said, his dark eyes looking back at hers brazenly. With the light of life in his eyes Queen Isolde realised just how handsome he actually was.

"Just Vernard?" The Queen asked, her tone laced with disapproval. "Do you have a family name as well or are you a bastard?" She asked. The whole concept of a bastard was
a curiosity to her.

In Isolde's kingdom the family names travelled down through the matriarchal line. One could always be certain of their Mother's identity even if their Father's was questionable. As such, there were no bastards in her society; only those with recognised Fathers, and those beholden solely to their Mothers.

She could see the intelligence behind his dark eyes as he danced this waltz of power with her. He was clever, halting his responses enough to show his defiance, but not enough to warrant reprimand.
 
"Our people do not bandy about family names, as you call them, unwarranted"

He stared back at her, "such names would have to be earned"

It did not worry him that she called him a bastard, such things meant nothing to him. Among his people he was call the Bold, because his bravery and cunning had led his men to many victories. Her words could not diminish that in his or any who knew him eyes.

"Even so I would not tell such names in this hall, for your people are not worthy to hear them."

He purposely did not say she was unworthy, for she was a ruler and by extension the arm that had defeated him. Unlike the majority in the gathering, she was worthy.
 
Queen Isolde

"My people are not worthy?" Queen Isolde asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow mockingly. "You say that yet you are here, surrounded by my people! And if you don't mind me saying, you are our captive." She said the last part in a hushed tone, as if he wasn't already aware of it.

Queen Isolde should have been angry about his disobedience, but she liked a man with spirit. She could see how Vernard managed to survive the battle he and his men lost, and the gruelling trek back to her castle. She could simply order him to tell her his name or face punishment, but she was having fun with this one. She turned and motioned to her handmaiden who came over with her head bowed.

"Elara, tell me, was this one marked?" The Queen asked quietly, so only the girl could hear.

"No your Highness." Elara responded in a similar hushed tone "Too old for a sex slave and too spirited for administration duties. Captain Luka said that this man was the one who instigated half of the trouble on the trek back."

"Excellent. Thankyou." Queen Isolde said before dismissing Elara with a gentle wave of her hand.

"Vernard." The Isolde said, looking at the man again, her eyes appraising him. "As you have not been marked by any of my loyal subjects, I will accept you as part of my household. I do not need to know your family name; it was merely out of interest that I asked. In truth, the family name of a captive means nought if they will do no more than empty chamber pots and fluff pillows. Perhaps when you have learnt to respect others in the same manner you want them to respect you, you may be willing to share this information." Isolde motioned to the Guards at the door of the room.

"Guards, please deliver these captives to their new masters and have Vernard taken to my sitting room so that I can teach him some matters. I will be there shortly, I just have some matters to discuss with Captain Luka."

Queen Isolde motioned for the Captain of her troops to come forward. Before she became engrossed in a conversation with him she spared one last look for Vernard before the guards came to claim him. Interacting with him was sure to bring some entertainment to her day.

 
Vernard caught her finallook, he noticed the almost sinister smile on her lips before she turned to talk to the Captain who had brought them from the mountains.
The last thought in his mind before he was dragged away was how truly beautiful she was.

The room he stood in was not large, but its stark white marble walls gave it the feel of being larger than it was, and the window that overlooked the immense snow-capped mountain ranges created an even greater feeling of solitude. There was a smattering of furniture that was painted white wood or a chilling white iron. Vernard noticed that all the wooden furniture was more elaborate in its crystal inlays while the iron was bleak. He suspected that when the queen saw guests, she would sit on the wood furniture and the visitors would suffer the cold hard iron.

The guards had left him alone in the cold room, still with his wrists chained but they also made it fully noticeable that they were posted outside and ready. It did not matter, he had no thought of escaping now, it would be futile, but if he could capture the Queen, then he would have a chance to escape.

He was not left long to his thoughts before he heard the soft patter of slippered feet. It was not the confident stride of a Queen, so Vernard guessed correctly that it was Elara. Her slippers reminded him just how cold he was, his own feet bare and the thin material of the tunic barely offering resistance to the constant chill.

She smiled as she approached him, "I believe you are a man of honour so I will ask you on your word you will not try harm me."

He looked at her, "why would I do that?"

He would never have thought of harming this girl, but was curious to see what she had to say.
"Because I have secured some comforts for your men."

Vernard looked at her curiously.

"Normally the sick and elderly captives who are not chosen are put out into the wild to die. I begged my Queen allow them to live out their last days in a warm cell with food. The sick will also be attended to and some may yet recover and be of use to us."

"Why would you do that?" Vernard was surprised at this, he never saw his enemies as anything but such. Even though he was horrified by what would have happened to his men, he understood it as part of war and captivity.

"Because I heard from the soldiers how fiercely you defended your men's lives during your journey, and that reminded me of my own Queen's loyalty to me and my past."
She suspected from his look and the lessening of the tension in him, he had consented to her request, so she pulled the key out of a pouch and approached him.

Vernard offered her his chained hands and she loosened and removed them from him.

"I suspect that you will still be punished severely for your actions, but your men will not suffer for that."
She took a cloth and gently wiped his welts around his wrists.
"Please for my sake I ask you to show some respect and deference to the Queen."

Vernard looked at her curiously, she was definitely trusted and in some senior role despite being a handmaiden.
"Are you the Queen's lover?"
 
Elara

Elara laughed, her voice tinkling through the cavernous chamber like bells. Her eyebrows raised as she watched the shabby looking captive, Vernard, and took in his puzzled expression.

"Lover?" Elara asked with a smile. "No, I am her handmaiden. I have shared her bed a few times, but Queen Isolde prefers males." Elara responded, watching the male as he digested this.

Elara continued about the business of cleaning his wrists and making him more presentable for her Mistress.

"I know you and your men do not think very well of My Queen, but I hope that, in time, you will come to see her as her own people do. She may seem as cold and harsh as a winter gale, but she had brought our people great happiness and peace... At least, until your people started fighting. You think that our men are suffering, that they want to be free.... but have you asked them for their opinion?" Elara said, just as much to herself as Vernard. She wasn't sure if he would be willing or able to listen, but she felt it her duty to defend her Queen.

Elara put the bloodied bandage aside and then got a fresh one, slowly cleaning the dirt, blood and grime of Vernard's face. He might be older than most of the others, but he was handsome and strong in a way that few men were. His experience shone through his eyes, and his face was weathered with years of fighting and smiling. She could see the contrast in his personality easily; the brave soldier and the wily tactition.
 
Vernard wanted to find fault in her words, to tell her he did not need to ask the soldiers, or other men of the realm if they did not mind their lot. But he knew he would be wrong to do so. He had assumed his wish for freedom was shared by all men and most women. He had always been free and when the Queen's emissaries had come to his village those years ago he had not listened to their offer of protection. He had ignored the offers of prosperity, food and comfort during the winter months. All he had heard was that the men south of his hillside village, in the desert lands, had proved they were unworthy to rule over women anymore. He had heard how the women of his village would be liberated and some would rule in the name of Queen Isolde. That had angered him, his village had survived for years, but he had not rebelled at first.

Then his own betrothed had been made head of the village and the Queen's captain had suggested she have the men of her village prove which one was worthy to be her consort. That was when Vernard had begun to rebel. The men of his village had respected Vernard too much to take such a challenge but when the same captain had stepped forward to prove his worth Vernard had barely contained his anger. The fool had manipulated the situation so that he could become nothing but a slave to the whim of a woman (Vernard's woman), who despite her beauty, he hardly knew.

Vernard's anger had overflown when the same woman, who had once professed her love for him, had eagerly agreed to this contest. Vernard had killed the man before the smile had even left his lips and fled the village along with those who had wanted their freedom. In time their numbers had grown with freed slaves and villagers which had refused to surrender. And finally when their numbers had swelled enough they had struck out at the Queen only to finally be crushed.

He looked at Elara as she gently attended to him. There was a kindness about her that made Vernard wonder if all was as rotten in this realm as he suspected. How could she maintain her spirit of kindness and be so loyal to the Queen if she was really as cruel as Vernard thought.

"I would have asked...Captain Luka... but he seemed to interested in impressing his Queen, perhaps to squirm his way into her bed."
He grabbed her hands, "she has a spell over you all, she seduces you to follow her whims," he urged her, desperately trying to convince himself that is was the truth.

Elara just smiled and continued to attend to his minor wounds when Vernard released her hands.

"That was a very kind thing you did for my men," he finally said when she looked as if she was done.
When Elara did not reply he continued.
"Am I really to be nothing but a chamber servant," the thought angered Vernard.
He was a warrior and should not be demeaned so.
"I would rather the Queen behead me for opposing her, it is a more fitting death for me...and nobler."
 
Elara

Elara had to stop herself from laughing at Vernard's impassioned declaration against her Queen. The only way that Queen Isolde had seduced her people was with her tried and true ability to rule. Her ability to do the best for the most people with the least amount of resources. There would be a time and a place to correct Vernard's misconceptions, but her priority at that particular point in time was to prepare him to talk with Queen Isolde and to convince him to behave if he had any desire to survive the meeting.

"You may become a chamber slave," Elara conceded as she continued to tend to some cuts and bruises. "but it could always be worse. Being the Queen's own chamber slave is one of the highest ranks possible in the serving class, and if you prove your worth and devotion the Queen will be quick to reassign you. She isn't silly you know, she won't want to waste your experience for any longer than it takes to tame you." Elara explained.

She had spoken the truth as well. Elara has seen a number of males and females rise through the ranks of the serving class into military or secretarial roles. Queen Isolde was clever and never let a resource, human or otherwise, be inefficiently utilised. Elara looked into Vernard's eyes and smiled reassuringly. She really hoped that he would show the proper deference to her Queen, from what she'd heard he would most certainly be useful to have around.

"When the Queen enters please show her respect. She isn't against people talking back to her and asking her valid questions, but she does not like to be insulted. It is likely that she picked you because you were willing to stand up to her, but please be aware that there is a thin line between resistance and disrespect." Elara said. She sighed softly before she got to her feet and gathered the medical supplies she had used on him. "I don't think she'll be too much longer. I have to go and put these away." She gave him a last smile before shuffling out of the room in silky slippered feet.
 
Queen Isolde

Queen Isolde made her way to her chambers and smiled in anticipation. Her conversation with Captain Luka had confirmed her assumptions. It turned out that Vernard was the one behind a lot of the trouble on the return trip. He seemed to be held in high esteem with the others in his party, so the Queen was willing to bank on the fact that he was a leader of some sort. She wondered if Vernard was his real name, but without a Family name it would be hard for her to tell exactly who he was.... and she wanted to know.

"Your Majesty." Elara bowed as she and Isolde crossed paths.

"How is our new slave?" Isolde asked the woman with a slight inclination of her head to acknowledge her bow.

"Well. I have tended to his wounds. I don't think he is particularly happy about being singled out, but I think he could be incredibly useful." Elara stated. Queen Isolde nodded.

"Yes, I think so too Elara." Queen Isolde acquiesed. "However, his usefulness will unfortunately be determined by his willingness to cooperate with his new Mistress." She said. Elara smiled and bowed again before Isolde continued towards her chamber.

This, Isolde thought, is going to be interesting.
 
Vernard turned quickly from looking out the window when Isolde entered. The bleak landscape of the icy mountains reminded him just how cold he was, and he imagined what it would be like to sit on those cold iron chairs while the queen entertained you.

He hesitated for a moment before remembering Elara's words.
She was a Queen, one of a fair sized realm and she had defeated him in combat.
Slowly he bowed his head for a few seconds before straightening.

"Lady Isolde, what is to become of me?"
 
Queen Isolde

Vernard had the good sense to bow, even if his greeting wasn't correct.

"Queen Isolde, not Lady Isolde." The Queen said as she swept past him and settled into one of her chairs, her robes billowing down around her as she did so. "I will also settle for Your Highness, Your Majesty or My Queen. Either one will do really." Isolde said. She turned and took a cup off the table beside her chair and poured herself a glass of deep red wine.

The Queen looked over Vernard again and was pleased that Elara had managed to clean him up a touch. He was dirty, as was to be expected after his long journey and his imprisonment, but with his wounds tended he already looked better. His clothing, however, would just not do.

With a deep sigh Isolde got to her feet strode purposefully over to the doors of her chamber, throwing them open. Her guards were quick to come to attention and she smiled at them.

"Karl, Rial, please call a servant and have them fill up a hot bath, and also get them to bring me two barrels of water. It doesn't need to be warm." Isolde ordered before returning to her room and shutting the door behind her.

This time when she looked at Vernard she could see the cold seeping into his bones. Her room was colder than the rest of the castle, she made sure of that. It was this way for two reasons; one was because she liked the reminder of what she, and her people, were fighting against. The second, less wholesome reason, was because it was more fun to warm a cold room with a lover than with a brazier.

"How do you find my kingom so far?" Isolde asked, walking over to the large window and looking out over her domain, a sense of nostalgia for the snow-capped mountains mingling with pride.
 
"It...aghm...." he cleared his throat a little surprised at her question, "it is very cold ....Queen Isolde."
She would never be his queen.
"But not too much colder than the hill lands where I come from."
He walked up and stood next to her.
"It seems so desolate and lonely and I don't think I will ever get used to it."
He looked out the window in the direction of where his village lay.
"What is to become of me?"
 
Queen Isolde

Queen Isolde laughed at Vernard's comments softly. She had heard much the same from other migrants or prisoners. She could understand their sentiment, she couldn't imagine what it would be like to leave her cold home and be thrust into one of the northern deserts. She watched as Vernard surveyed the view and talked about his home.

"What will become of you depends highly on what you do with yourself." Isolde explained. "In my kingdom every one who is able is put to work, if they do their job well they are rewarded. The same will apply to you. If you please me you will undoubtedly become quite happy with your lot." She said. "I see promise in your Vernard, I can see a spark of intelligence in your eyes that I like, and your strength and independence are clear in your posture and speech. My only question now is if you can be tamed, or if you will make me resort to assigning you to the plows."

Isolde heard a knock at the door and one of her guards opened it and bowed.

"Queen Isolde, the servants will be up with the water in five minutes. Is they aught else you need?" He asked.

"Yes, actually." Isolde said, looking over at Vernard appraisingly. "Some new clothes for Vernard. Plain servant's garb will suffice."
 
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Turning swiftly towards her he forgot who she was.
"Tamed...am I some animal you have acquired?" he asked bitterly
He glared at her, "I am Vernard, leader to my people and I will not be a servant...I am a warrior and I will not be garbed as some servant."
He looked down at her his chest heaving in anger.
 
Queen Isolde

Queen Isolde turned to Vernard, her eyes wide with anger and her fists clenching at her sides.

"A true warrior knows when to yield and when to fight." Queen Isolde sneered "You are lucky that I am patient Vernard. With any other monarch your tone would result in very violent punishment."

Isolde turned and walked over to the table that was holding her wine. She picked it up and took a small sip, relishing in the deep flavours of the beverage.

"For the moment you will be nothing more than my servant. Until I am satisfied that you have learnt the proper respect and deference then a slave is what you will remain. You need to learn to take your anger and resentment and turn it into something productive." Isolde said, not bothering to look at the man. "And remember, if you tire of your time as my servant you are always welcome to request to be a part of the Plow. I am sure you would relish the chance to join the misfit's of my society in clearing the mountain passes of snow. There is no warmth in that task, and the cold is just as likely to kill you as your comrades."

A few moments after her speech there was another knock on her door and it opened to reveal a stream of servants. The first four were rolling two barrels of water and the several that followed were carrying steaming cauldrons full of water.

"In the bathing room, My Lady?" The lead servant asked.

"The cold waters is to go on the balcony outside the bathing room, the hot water is to go in the bath. The four of you with the cold water are to remain outside with it, those with the hot can return to their duties.

When the servants had followed her orders she looked at Vernard and gestured for him to follow her into the bathing room. The glass doors of the room were wide open and the freezing mountain air howled into the room.

"Take your clothes off. You are caked in the filth of the road and I don't want it to soil my castle any further." The Queen ordered, turning to Vernard and waiting for him to obey.
 
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He looked at her defiantly.
"Queen Isolde, I am not sure if it is appropriate for a servant to be naked in front of royalty."
He remembered her words about being a 'plow' and although he did not fear the other men, he did know that being so far away would not help him free his men.
He smirked.
"But then I am not a servant...but a proud warrior."
He grabbed the sides of the thin tunic he wore and pulled it off over his head.
For the first time he was glad that the proximity to her beauty and the tender ministrations of Elara had an affect on him. He stood there proudly, defiantly looking in her eye, his member just starting to rouse from its slumber.
"Is her highness pleased with her newest conquest?"
Then the bitter cold of the room struck him and he held back further sarcasm for fear his voice might tremble.
 
Queen Isolde

"Queen Isolde, I am not sure if it is appropriate for a servant to be naked in front of royalty." Queen Isolde's eyebrows raised as Vernard spoke, hiding his defiance underneath sugar-sweet courtesy. Isolde was jut about to tell Vernard that, in her kingdom, being naked before the Queen was not something that was offensive, but then he spoke again.

"But then I am not a servant...but a proud warrior."

Vernard was very clever and extremely daring. Queen Isolde watched as he pulled his tunic over his head and then took her time to look at every part of his exposed body. His manhood was pleasurably shaped and it looked as though he had the stirrings of arousal. As she watched she was conscious of the fact that he was completely exposed to the biting wind whistling in through the open window. She watched as he tried, in vain, not to shiver. His brash demeanour slowly turned as he was exposed to the elements for longer and longer.

"Servants, please take Vernard out onto the balcony and pour that water over him. He needs to be washed, but he is not going anywhere near my tub whilst he is still dirty." Queen Isolde ordered. Her fingers undid the clasp on her cloak and she turned and rested the thick fur cloak on a nearby rack.

When Queen Isolde turned she was two of her servants guiding the naked Vernard onto the exposed balcony while the other two went about opening the barrel of cold water. A grin spread across her face as the barrel was lifted up high and it's contents was poured over Vernard, cooling his body and hopefully his attitude.
 
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Vernard hissed through his teeth as the cold water drenched him.
He tried not to shiver but the dousing water and the cold breeze forced him to.
He turned to Isolde, looking at her, still defiant but a hint of his pride having left, as shown by his slumped shoulders.
"Thank you my queen."
 
Queen Isolde

Queen Isolde smirked as Vernard spoke his thanks through chattering teeth. Such a wonderfully spirited man. She waved her hand at the second barrel as the water in the first ran out and the servants hurried to lift it. In the mean time Vernard was left, wet and in the howling wind, to think about his behaviour.

The second barrel would have felt even colder than the first, and even the ice loving Queen knew she would have had trouble with the combination of the water and the wind. As the water was poured over Vernard, slowly, Isolde began to unbutton her robes. When all of the bindings were free she slipped the robes over her head and placed them on the same rack as the cloak. Her underclothes came off just as the last of the frigid water trickled over Vernard's naked and shivering form.

The Queen turned and walked over to her bathing tub which would be large enough to comfortable accommodate four people if need be. She smiled as she climbed up the steps and then slid into the deliciously warm water.

"Do you think you are clean enough yet Vernard?" Isolde asked, settling into the water and giving him a wicked smile.
 
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He looked at her trying to maintain some pride against the cold.
The cold had dampened any arousal but he still hung proudly between the legs.
He wanted to refuse her but the steaming water was too enticing.
"Yes Queen Isolde, I think I am clean enough."
But he still had some pride.
"But I fear that joining you in your bath would make me more than a servant."
He reached down and covered his manhood, denying her what he knew many women found desirable.
"And I fear I am not worthy of bring one so esteemed such pleasure."
He smirked, "for then all you real bed slaves would feel inadequate."
 
Queen Isolde

Queen Isolde's laughter echoed through the bathing chamber. Even if he wasn't particularly reverent, Vernard had proven himself to be thoroughly entertaining thus far.

"Who said that you would be required to bring me such pleasure?" Isolde asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watch Vernard try to hide his shivering. "And you should rest assured, Vernard, I have no bed slaves. Those that come to my chambers do so willingly, sometimes at my request and other times at their own behest."

Queen Isolde reached out to the table beside the tub and grasped a small slab of perfumed soap. She smelled it and sighed. Here, in the wintery wonderland of her kingdom, the scent of spring wild flowers was a rare and pleasurable delicacy.

"When you are ready to acknowledge your new position you are welcome to come in and join me in the tub. Hot water is not something that should be wasted in my Kingdom. Please think carefully, it won't be long before frostbite eats away at your-" Isolde looked down at Vernard's manhood which had previously been strong and glorious and was now shrivelled. "appendages."

Isolde turned her back on the balcony and begun to soap up her body, lathering the beautifully scented substance on her body generously.
 
He knew he could not stand very long in the cold. Despite the hardiness of his constitution from rough living he would succumb to the cold soon. besides the idea of being so close to her was not a unpleasant one.
The thoughts of her curvaceous body was just as much calling him as the sight of the steaming tub was.
Quickly he mad his way into to warmer confines of the room and hopped quickly into the water opposite her.
The bite of the heat against his freezing flesh made him grimace but he did not care and he sank down into the warm waters.
 
Queen Isolde

When Vernard sunk into the tub Isolde smiled, pleased.

"I see you still have your wits about you... At least a little." Isolde said as she carefully washed her nipples, watching for Vernard's reaction. "However, you seemed to think that you were skilled at pleasuring women. Tell me Vernard, how did you achieve this? And what makes you certain of your prowess?"
 
He had to agree with her, the warmth of the water was quickly returning his body to a more comfortable state. He even felt a stirring in his loins as his blood began to flow properly.

He couldn't help staring at her as her hands touched her breasts. He didn't want to look but he was a man, one who had never been this close to such a beautiful enticing woman, and one who had not felt the comfort of a woman's touch in a long time.

"Are you so arrogant to believe there are not women who prefer our rule to yours. I have had many lovers over the years, and none of them ever complained about my skills."
 
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