Arrangements for Peace (Closed)

She had watched at the celebration of the bloody sheets and the ending of a war long in the making. The thing hung up over their heads, a reminder to all and sundry of what has just occurred, and the two joined as one.

For all of her life, she had been told of the traitorous Blackwood - a people that stole any and everything. She had been taught how to kill them in every way imaginable. Poisons. Using any weapon needed. Even how to use her bare hands if needed. And in battle she had killed her fair share.

Yet, in all of this there had been no lessons in love. In fact, she thought back. Never once had her father told her that he loved her. Oh, he told her that he was proud of her, occasionally disappointed in her. But never loved her.

So it was amusing how now, she was being forced to find an emotion new to her. She knew dozens of way of killing this man, her soon to be husband and King. But not at the cost of her entire kingdom. Just as he would endure her safety to keep his kingdom alive. Love? She was not sure just what that was. Which was ironic considering that she had that one word in ancient Blackwood trimmed into her pubic hair.

She ate though she was not hungry. But to not eat would be an affront, as if she suspected the food poisoned. The cake was sweet - something that she was not used to. Thrustrians did not eat much sweets, maybe the occasional pudding or sweet bread. She found the cake, this New Kingdom cake, immensely sweet and therefore merely nibbled at it. What she really longed for was rest.

As the guest began to leave, she too wished to go. Her father sat perched on his little stool, remaining regal and stoic and she was proud of the dignity with which he bore the humiliation that they attempted to heap on him. He refused it and remained proud, his back erect. Only she knew the physical pain that sitting in that little stool caused him Only she knew of the injury he bore which kept him from fighting. Because of the injury to his hip, he now walked with the slightest limp when in public. But in private, only she had seen the great pain that he endured. That was when she had taken over the leading of the troops.

Fighting left no time for niceties. Though women were not necessarily taught niceties. Women were not taught love. After all, the teaching of love would break the vessel. She had been told that there would be pain, but not unbearable pain. That there would be blood, but no more than what could be lost in battle.

It had always been assumed that she would be married off to one of their allies, not the enemy. Yet here she sat, deep in the enemy camp, coupled to the enemy. There could be no going back, now. In essence, they were now the enemy. They were Blackwood.

The music played and people seemed more interested in celebrating than anything else. She was aware of sitting there beside Tomas, his seed inside her womb. She had been told that her job as Queen was to supply an heir to the King. In essence, a baby maker. The vessel that was to hold the true blending of these two lands.

Yet, the moment of coupling had been strangely erotic, somehow. The feeling of his body against hers, nakedness against nakedness. This was certainly something new for her.

She knew that the question of love would come up eventually. What was love? As of now, she did not know what love was. As of now, it was merely a coupling.

He spoke without looking at her.

Zarathrusta, you are welcome to breakfast with me in the morning. You may refuse if you wish, but if accept I will ensure that we will have our privacy. It maybe a good time to continue the discussion you started earlier while we were in the coupling chamber.

She paused, but only for a second. Perhaps this would be her chance. Never one to run away from anything, she knew immediately that she would. Better to know what the other thought. Honestly saved confusion later.

“I will be there.”

The morning air was cool, wet, the hint of dew across the small garden suggesting that they were due for rain in the coming days. The flowers of spring blooming and releasing the feeling of freshness and calm. Tomas stood at the brushline, looking across the grand lawn beyond, scanning for any whom might interrupt this morning.

Turning back to the table, Tomas said, “Stop.”

The kitchen girl looked up at him wide eyed before averting them. Her eyes darted around nervously and under her hooded headpiece hid her face. She proceeded to continue slicing the fruit.

“I said, Stop,” Tomas demanded.

Again, her eyes locked with his, like a fawn caught in a hunter’s gaze. The knife in her hand shook like her voice, “But … I .. I’m to cut the rhybus and remove the pits.”

“Do you think I am not capable to do so?”

She didn’t reply, the shivering nervous eyes ricocheted around the table of pastries, breads, warm drinks, and fruits. She was not a child, but since he had never seen the girl at a previous service, this was likely the first time she had been given such an important duty like preparing the Prince’s breakfast. The night before had become a grand celebration, and there was no doubt that the main staff needed some rest. She reached for block of cured meat and prepared it for cutting as well.

“Leave that too.”

She didn’t look up, the knife hovering in the air waving with each shiver. “I’m to shave the meat.”

“And I am sure you will do an admiral job of such a duty, but if I ask you to not do something than I expect you to do as much.”

“But the chef …”

“The chef will speak to me if he disapproves, or worse.”

She made a quick look to Tomas before a lightning fast nod, and a turn away. “If there is nothing else.”

“No. Please leave me.”

As soon as the servant left the garden, Tomas moved briskly to a push and pulled for a bottle of port. He filled a cup and emptied it. He hadn’t slept, spent most of the night sitting by the fire, the same port cup at hand. He was still in control of his senses, but was satisfied that his nerves were in control as well.

A lifetime of meetings and courts left him unphased. This breakfast, this private meeting with his bride, it brought an anxiety like any. Worse, he had no idea why.

He someone approach, took a long deep breath, and turned to greet her.

The night had been a long one. Immediately upon entering their assigned quarters, Paytron had ordered a hot bath for the Princess. Normally, Zara would have ordered no such thing. After all, she was a warrior. However, what had just occurred was unlike any battle that she had ever taken part in. Strangely, her insides felt as if they had taken the brunt of the attack. And she supposed that they had.

Nevertheless, when Paytron ordered her into the hot bath water, she welcomed it. Despite the quick cleanup after the coupling, there was still a stickiness between her legs.

“I have added a tincture to the water that the physician concocted before we left. It is to aid in healing. Oh!” She glanced at Paytron and saw that the maid was looking down to where the water between her legs had a slight pinkish tint.

“Do not worry, Paytron. ‘Tis only residual blood. I am not dying though I will admit that I am tired. Tomorrow I am to breakfast with the Prince so do not let me sleep late.”

Later that night, she lay there in the bed, supposedly asleep. That could not be further from the truth. The bedsheets were cool against her bare skin. The events of the Coupling ran through her mind. She had to admit that she did feel different. There was a slight aching between her legs though the tincture that Paytron had used in the bath had eased some of that.

There was a noise outside in her waiting area and she held her breath, listening. A door opening and closing. It had to be Paytron - she would ask the maid in the morning where she went. Meanwhile she lay there in bed, her fingers drifting down to that space between her legs. The space where just hours ago he had pierced into her. Deposited his seed into her.

She flinched as something shot through her. A quickening of her heartbeat. The space that now claimed her to be a woman clinched in retaliation. Tomorrow evening would be the second night of the Coupling. No party, no bloody sheets. Just one more step towards the wedding and coronation. One more chance to fill her with his seed and tie the two lands tighter together.

She must have drifted off to sleep for she awoke again when Paytron returned to the waiting room and then to her own bedroom. Sighing, Zara rolled over and made another stab at sleep.

The sun was just rising when she felt Paytron‘s hand touch her shoulder. She was totally awake, used to being awakened thusly in the battlefield.

“It is morning, your Highness.”

Zara threw back the covers, the morning sun washing across her nude body and giving it a golden wash.

“How do you feel, your Highness?”

“I am fine, Paytron. How are you? You did not sleep much.”

The maid ducked her head and blushed.

“I am sorry that I woke you. No, sleep was elusive. For you too?”

“Yes. Was he worth it?”

“He was enjoyable,” the maid seemed to have trouble looking her in the eyes and Zara dropped the subject for the time being.

She was carefully dressed in a light blue dress with its neckline low enough to display her charms without too much as to be in poor taste. After all, they had already seen each other naked, and would again. Therefore this was a casual dress as this meeting was not a formal one. This breakfast was more of a chance for the two of them to perhaps get to know each other and perhaps lay some ground rules.

Paytron began to attempt to arrange her hair but Zara raised her hand to stop her. “Just casual off my face, please.” The maid merely combed Zara’s long blonde hair and pulled it back from her face with several combs.

She was given the directions to the meeting and walked along the hall to the door outside. Walking along the path, there was the distinctive crunch of the small pebbles under her shoes on the walk. Around the corner, she had a clear view of Tomas, his back to her. As she approached, he turned to greet her. Perhaps protocol might dictate that she curtsy to him. That would not happen, at least not in private. In private, she would be herself with him.

“Good morning, my affiance. I trust that you slept well?”

Tomas was taken aback slightly when she arrived. They had,of course, see every bit of each other the night before but that was in the dim light. Besides, a dress that tempts but still hides can be just as arousing. He tried to hide his immediate look to the low hanging neckline, and started to regret his own outfit. The tight fitting black riding pants he wore may suggest shortly intentions other than a nice conversation; if only saved for the long blue and purple tunic.

She made her greeting, asked how he slept.

“I slept well, Princess.”

He stopped. This was not what he wanted. This is not how he should start this day.

“That is not true actually. I slept poorly.“ The confession was a break for him. To not share the pleasantries of honesty with someone of equal standard is unheard of in Blackwood culture. Even something so simple as suggesting of a bad night sleep. Yet now he started, with a laugh of freedom, he continued.

“Do you know how nice it is to say that? No … I slept poorly. It was horrific.” He was laughing now. “Bloody awful.”

He stopped himself again. The word ‘bloody’ catching him to be considerate. “Oh, my manners at least. How are you this morning. Are you well? From the … well, from last night? Did you sleep well?”

It felt like a weight lifting from his shoulders. The freedom from protocol & posture. He only felt limited from respecting her dignity, but that was of course his choice.

“Would you like some fruit or breakfast? I believe I made a kitchen girl cry over it, so we should eat some.”

The change in his countenance seemed to happen before her very eyes as his answer changed. The first answer stiff and unrelenting, yet suddenly he seemed to change his mind and answer truthfully. The laugh surprised her. He was quite handsome after all without that stern pompous look that he had originally adopted. Though after spending only one day in this strange land, she could see that his society was one of constraints.

Then he seemed to regain his composure and follow the etiquette, asking her polite questions.

Oh, my manners at least. How are you this morning. Are you well? From the … well, from last night? Did you sleep well?

There was a slight smile that flitted across her lips before she answered.

“Perhaps a bit like you, though for different reasons. Sleep was elusive for me. Then again, I was well aware of my maid slipping out for an assignation with your man. I hope that he can be trusted. As for myself, I am well. Perhaps a bit sore but nothing that will keep me from my appointment tonight.”

Would you like some fruit or breakfast? I believe I made a kitchen girl cry over it, so we should eat some.

“Then by all means, I would love breakfast. Not to do so would be a waste of tears.”

He held the chair out for her and she crossed and sat. As they settled before the food, she decided to clear the air.

“I think that I should make some things clear. Though my true name is Zarathustra, among my people the Thrustra portion is dropped between family and friends. Therefore, in private you could call me Zara. “Princess” sounds so formal, however if you wish to call me Princess, that is your prerogative. I call my Father “Zimber” or Father in private.”

She took a bite of the fruit that he served her.

“This is good. What do you call it?”

She ate quietly as he spoke, liking the sound of his voice. It was strange, this courtship of two complete strangers. And with each coupling, less strangers. She did have a question. But that would be for perhaps another time. For now, they were still setting groundwork, the rules of this coupling and courtship.

The twinge of his stoic duties poked at him. Her response, while honest, still seemed reserved. Maybe he hoped more to dine with the fiery creature that accosted him before he bedded her the night before. It was the little things, though, at set him at ease. Her quip about the kitchen girl’s tears, her bluntness about Henry’s advances on Paytron, even her desire to be addressed by her common name seemed to garner hope. So the later was where he started.

“Tomas is fine, but as we are in private you hold the right to call me whatever name you wish,” he smiled and joked, “I assume there are a few curse words in Thrustra that you’d fine fitting for me as we get to know each other.”

He took a knife to a dried meat, shaving it to a few slim layers. He wrapped them around dried sweetfruits, tight enough that the oils from the meat held itself in place. Four or five of these on a plate, he sat it between them as to share.

“Funny thing names. I find it interesting that your name shares much of your father’s, even though it still remains uniquely yours. It is common that our people hold their family names with their parents, but it’s not true for Royals. I am, of course, Tomas Blackwood as of this day, but after the coronation it will strictly be Tomas. As if I need not be a part of the linage that placed me in such a role.”

He paused, grabbed another of the fruits, and used it to distract from the seemingly missed part of how Zara would then play into such a role.

“My man, Henry is a good man, but if you would rather I can ask him to turn his advances elsewhere. He can be quite insistent, but also enjoys the hunt more than the commitment. If you wish it, I will speak to him and he will listen.”

With another fruit he thought to add, embracing his new ability to speak openly.

“Henry was fairly curious to meet a Thrustra woman though, I must admit. Once hearing of the treaty, he was quite excited about it. I believe he felt it would be like bedding a savage, so to speak. He tried to convince me that you would have teeth in your … well .. not your mouth.”

Henry was fairly curious to meet a Thrustra woman though, I must admit. Once hearing of the treaty, he was quite excited about it. I believe he felt it would be like bedding a savage, so to speak. He tried to convince me that you would have teeth in your … well .. not your mouth.

With this last little bit, she could not help herself. It was a hearty laugh that tumbled from between her lips. Pushing away from the table, she dropped her napkin beside her plate and stood.

“Oh, I don’t fear for Paytron. I was afraid that she might hurt...Henry, is that his name?” She stood for a moment, waiting to see if he understood her meaning before she continued. “Thrustrian women are taught how to protect themselves from an early age.”

She crossed from the table and looked around, as if making sure that they were indeed alone.

“I am not a politician. I am a warrior. Just sitting here attempting to sugar coat words is not my style. I meant what I said last night. I won’t be a wife that placates you, or tells you lies. You and I are doing something for the good of our people. Pure and simple. I can promise you that I will tell you things as I see it. My father claims that I am too blunt and have no patience. You can see for yourself that his words are true. But you can also be assured that should it ever come to war, I would not be afraid to raise a sword to fight.”

She crossed back to him, close enough to reach out to him. The stance that she took was a warrior’s stance.

“You were correct last night. I am a warrior. I fought many campaigns, killed many Blackwood. I even have a scar or two from Blackwoods that tried to kill me. As you can see, they lost. I am not afraid. At least, not of war, or pain. So what exactly is my title to be as Queen? Zarathustra Blackwood? Or just Queen Zara, the vessel of Tomas’ child? I can promise you, above all I shall be Zara, the one that will teach your women to fight.” She paused and tilted her head, as if thinking. A smile came to her lips.

“Come to think of it, perhaps I do have teeth...not in my mouth.”

For a moment she was quiet, as if letting him take it all in. The words that came next were softer, yet just as sure.

“Tomas, I cannot be something that I am not. Blackwood seemed to be more a society of understanding words not spoken, thoughts not voiced. That is not Thrustrian. We say what we mean. I will not lie. If I do not like something or agree with something, we say so.” She paused. “And you may want to tell Henry that if Paytron says no, then she means no.”

She waited to see if she had angered him. Such words last night had not been welcomed.

Tomas’s eyes rose quickly when the hearty laugh burst from Zara. She is a strong woman, but even when she laughs, she laughs with strength. Yet he stayed silent as she spoke. Occasionally taking bies of the assorted fruit, he looked upon her doing his best to maintain his stoic concentration. Like the night before, when she spoke to him it was more of an outburst of powerful emotion in a tone that demanded his attention. He gave it, and he was careful to ensure each word she said was understood.

As she was finishing up, he took a bite of a pastry. He knew he would need a moment to comprise a response, As he chewed on the bakery, he chewed on his words as well. Finally, now with her attention, he began.

“Well, I must say, I am challenged to know what to say to you. Let me start with this, though. Our lands are now joined by treaty, but you are a citizen of Blackwood now. We may not be outwardly a society that speaks so freely, but words that are chose are chose for a reason. Our women are strong, but they do not fight. We take more time for protocol and function, but we are still a very proud people. Our principles are based on duty and honor. We do so out of respect for all of those who worked so hard for us to become the country we are and to think it would be anything else is a disgrace to generationals of Blackwoods.”

He took a quick break to wipe his hands clean of with his napkin. “My father told me as a child that the hardest thing about become King is that I would have to accept parts of myself I do not want. He said I had to be the symbol of Blackwood so the people may follow that lead. You must understand that as Queen you are not only one of us, but the representation of what your people must also find balance with ours You say you can’t be what you are not; you must accept that this is now what you are whether or not you want it .”

He stood, starting walking towards her until he stood directly in front of her. “You speak your mind, you speak direct and strong. My challenge in responding to you is … well … I am so envious of your ability to be so bold. As much as I think I have to say these words of duty and honor; your words are …” he shook his head, “I don’t know … gorgeous. No one who speaks like you do should be asked to be anything they are not. I have never met anyone so empowered by their words, let alone by a woman. That’s how I knew you were a warrior last night, because it is the fire that you hold that makes a fight with you so attractive.”

He stopped himself. ‘Attractive’. That word, with its meaning in more things carnel then conversational, a word slipped out that he didn’t mean to say but still held meaning.

“So maybe the teeth have its place, and maybe it needs to be seen.”

There seemed to be something inside of him that longed to emerge, though what it was she could only hazard a guess. And when finally he spoke, there was still that hesitation that spoke of years of holding back, of following protocol. When he stood close to her, it made her aware that he was actually taller than she, though as of yet, he had not the bearing of leadership. She supposed that such would come to him when the actual coronation occurred. Or perhaps it was because this was a meeting between future husband and wife. Though she wondered if there would ever be a meeting of equals or would he always expect to be the dominant one.

Still, she felt that something was held back. It would have to be something that she pondered upon later when she was alone.

Some of his words were painful to accept. She was now a citizen of Blackwood. Strange, but she still felt Thrustrian. It was hard to deny a hatred for another, even harder to accept it with one that was pleasing to the eye. Still, deny it she must. She was now her own enemy. Her heart pained, not for herself but for her Thrustra.

She could see that he was complimenting her for she had never been called gorgeous before. Pleasing was the best she had been called. Or even striking. Yet, when he used the word attractive, something told her that he really meant something else. Though they basically spoke the same language, their uses seemed so different.

“I can see that we have much to learn from each other. And I suspect that it will take us both to rule this new land called ‘Blackwood’. Your strength lies in words. You have the power to make losing a war sound welcomed. My strength lies in action.” She leaned into him and stared deep into his eyes, as if trying to see the real person. There was no coyness or seduction attempt to the action, but as if looking for the first time at a person. When she spoke again, her voice was softer in volume yet carried her full conviction behind her words.

“I see in you, Tomas, a fire that burns deeply though you fight to hide it. A fire that keeps you pursuing whatever it is that you pursue. That spark that you admire in me, if I understand you correctly, that spark you carry too. And perhaps that is why the Blackwood are more dangerous, for you keep that fire hidden behind words and protocols. And therefore, people do not realize that you are dangerous until it is too late. Perhaps we can help each other, for I suspect that we both have much to learn from each other.”

Of course, Tomas spoke many times with Henry about the Thrustrians, yet while Henry focused more on the carnal aspects of their kind, it was this side that he was so unprepared for. Thurstrians were known for their direct approach to negotiations as well as their blunt opinions. What Zara showed him now was exactly that, but it was still so unexpected. Yet what she says and how she says it become so attractive. There was a fire in him; yet with her standing so close, the fire was something more than building a new country.

With her standing so close to him, his voice changed to a softer feel. There was another topic he intended to discuss, and now with this fire in him growing it became key in his thoughts.

“Last night, I did my training disservice. When we were in our chambers, and you spoke the way you speak now, I lost my decorum and focused only on my own needs. My father ensured I was educated by the finest of bed minders, yet when I look back on my actions it was as if they taught me nothing. I ask you do not judge them for this, only judge me. I don’t know if it was explained to you, but in our country once we have ensured an heir of our own, we are just to find pleasure where we can find it. Until that time, I shall do my best for you.”

As his words tapered, his hands found their way to her arms, holding them softly. Her nearness, answered by the intimate touch, and that fire burning hotter inside him.

As he spoke, for once she found herself somewhat torn. She had of course heard of bed minders though there was no such thing for women. After all, there was a need for purity of the lineage in a ruling family. But it for some reason bothered her that there had been other women before her. As a ruler, fidelity to one mate was expected in her world. Bed minders were not used in Thrustra. If a man sought comfort in another woman’s bed, it was kept silent and certainly not spoken of. It was a shame that neither the husband nor the wife would admit to. Yet here he was, speaking already of turning to other women once there was an heir.

She clenched and unclenched her teeth, the muscle in her jaw showing her irritation, perhaps even anger. In Thrustra, to do so would be telling everyone privy to such knowledge that she was not a woman capable of pleasing her mate. A slap in the face.

It was a fight within her to keep her anger in check. After all, he had just told her that she was no longer Thrustrian.

He touched her arms. Strange how that something so innocuous should seem more personal than the action of the Coupling from the night before. Yet this was the case.

She could see that she would have to fight for him. Despite the fact that she was now a Blackwood, to have her mate turn to another, no matter the time married, would tell others that she could not give satisfaction to him and that she would not accept. She was a woman, particularly one that did not give up easily.

They were close - so close that she could smell him. Looking in his eyes, she saw truth. He meant what he had said.

“Tomas, I understand your words, and while I understand that it may be acceptable in Blackwood society to use a ‘bed minder’, it would show to all that I was not enough of a woman to please my own husband. I come to you to save my lands and my people. I have coupled with you once and for all I know I may already carry your heir. Tonight is to be the second coupling and again I will openly come to you for that. Do not speak of shutting me out already.”

His hands on her arms were warm and she drew herself up proud. Looking him straight in the eyes

“You speak of training. As if sex were only a class to be taken, with lessons learned. But your people have taken the heart and the passion out of it. Last night, the coupling that we had was true. I understood your anger. I accepted it. It was your true emotion, not some bit of pageantry. Do not give me false feelings. Between us it must be real. Anger, pain, those are just as true feelings as love, or pride or hope. Or even fear. I know that neither of us wanted nor was happy about this treaty. But it is the way things are now. Yet, already there is an invisible tie that binds us together. Do not try to place additional obstacles between us before we have a chance to make this work.”

She stared deep into his eyes - eyes that wanted to hide his feelings. Yet she refused that. Her voice was soft yet spoke with conviction as she leaned in closer as if to impart some great mystery.

“Between us there can be no secrets. None. Remember, I did warn you that I was not one to hold my tongue.”

His eyes losing itself into hers drew him into her demands. “We have much to learn of each other, Zara. While Blackwoods are reserved, dignified, and proud in public. There are no such boundaries outside the the eyes of our people. Away from those eyes is where I kept my secrets, so it may take some time to show them to yours. I am not one to give promises easy, but this is one. I shall promise to be the most honest with my secrets as I can. If I can not be a good king to you, then I do not deserve to be a good king to your land.

“But I think we both have some to learn.” This woman fascinated Tomas, and even now when she speaks of coupling she approaches it with something that needs to be conquered or negotiated. He grinned a little “I might speak like I have taken the passion from the act of coupling. You speak like the this act is emblematic. A symbol of what we are. That only suggests that if fits a definition. No wonder why you believe I would shut you out in seek of another in bed.” A grin grows on his face as a subject he feels a heir of superiority over the woman enters the space between them. “My man Henry has been a true friend my entire life, and I see him as an unequal advisor in the world of trade and mercantile negotiations. I do not think that your lady took an interest in him because he knows the proper price of grain.”

He leaned in closer, nearly subconsciously, to speak to her in a quiet tone. “I believe that you don’t quite understand what the act is either. We take lessons from bed minders, yes, but even a warrior knows that one cannot succeed in battle by hiding in private swinging their sword. There is nuance and strategy. There is knowing your opponent, and knowing the right things to do to make them do what you want.” He had neared her cheek close enough to whisper. “So I ask you, she who does not hold her tongue, how aware are you of what lies beyond passion and fertility in the act?“

It was strange. Tomas kept drawing her closer and closer, with his voice getting softer and softer in an almost hypnotic tone. She felt herself being drawn in to him as she mulled over his words.

It made her heart beat faster. Zara was someone used to being in charge. Her power over her troops was superseded only by her father’s final say. Yet here was her mate, the man soon to be her king and husband, and his words were already having sway over her. Her nature was to fight such, to look for flaws and faults in his words.

Blinking quickly, she held her breath. Yet somehow, his words made sense, despite her desire to show him otherwise. But a wise woman knows the truth when she hears it, despite how scary those words could be. She stood there mulling over his words, weighing them.

Here he stood - so close that they almost shared the same breath and for some reason such closeness unnerved her. No, not unnerved. Flustered? Made her uncalm? Unsettled? She searched for the correct word. Undermined her assurances? Whatever it was, his words cut deep into her and made her pause. And she found herself feeling something else, something that she couldn’t quite put her name to. Her heart raced with his words. Was perhaps this Tomas someone that she would not be able to influence. Or was he perhaps a much stronger individual than she had given him credit for?

And so it was that she found it necessary to reinspected his words and found that they did make sense. Against her wishes, it was necessary to accept what he had said. Accept the intent behind them. He was close - any closer and they would touch. He spoke quietly and her answer followed his example - soft and clear.

“Your words have the ring of truth. And I would be a foolish woman to claim that I have answers to such a situation. It would therefore make sense that in such a case, I will have to rely upon what you teach me. After all, if I expect honesty from you, you have the right to expect honesty from me.”

She was quiet for a moment, weighing her words before she spoke.

“I know the mechanics of sex but nothing more. It is not something really spoken about in my society. Beyond passion and fertility, it is all new for me.”

She paused a moment before she spoke again. “So I will await to see what you teach me.” Her steely blue eyes held his, and she knew that she should apologize to him. Apologizing was not something easy for her. People usually apologized to her.

“Perhaps it was the difference in our societies that led to my misunderstanding. And for that...” the following was difficult for her, “I perhaps misspoke.”

The fighter. So strong, so brave. This woman who would be unafraid to run into the brawl, surely. This woman who would have his neck if she felt it was just.

Yet she now shows a hint that the armor has chinks.

With a warm, forgiving smile, he replied only with a “Perhaps.”

His hand raised up and fingers wrapped around her bicept, feeling the strong muscle underneath her warm skin. A tender move, one to suggest an intimacy shared not just by their closeness or words. Symbolic as well, as if he was ready to guide her down whatever new path they now must forge together, and not just in terms of diplomacy and protocol. It was subconscious, but it was meaningful to him, as if he was now seeing her as something more than a symbol.

Just as soon as he touched here, someone approached.

“Ah good, ah good,” rumbled the unmistakable voice of his father.

Tomas stepped quickly away from Zara, creating a space of dignity, and stood formally awaiting the man’s arrival.

“There they are,” the king blustered as he came into view. “I wondered where you were. I heard the two love birds might be nesting, but seems you do no such. Instead you waste the day away.”

Tomas controlled his breathing, bothered by the intrusion, bothered by the suggestion of what they may be doing. “I thought it would be prudent to get to know my future queen without the watchful eye …”

“Nonsense,” the king interrupted. “I need you to meet with the tailor’s guild. They want assurances regarding the transfer of power. They await you shortly. In the meantime, you may leave your princess behind for her preening … or bathing … or whatever little girls do.”

Tomas, gripping his fists at his sides, clenched down with his teeth. Usually the bluntness of his words tend to pass by him, but it angered him now as if the woman had some spell on him already that made him offended for her. This was his life, however, taking commands from his father, following orders on what is right and need. He looked to his fiance, and hoped that for now she did the same.

She was making an effort. If the truth were known, she would have preferred to draw a sword to fight her way out. Fighting she knew. Fighting she understood. In a strange way, fighting was a comfort for her. There was your side and everyone else. Yet now, because of her father, the lines had become blurred. Because of his father, she would eventually be sleeping with the enemy.

His hand was warm on her arm, the grip firm. She suspected that there was more to it, and her body seemed to coil, ready for whatever happened next. As if already it was attempting to learn to live this new life that lay ahead of her.

What happened next caught her a bit off guard. The sound of the King approaching changed the atmosphere. It went from intimate to tense. Of course, the distance helped. So that by the time that the man finally came into view, all was as it had been.

Yet somehow, she felt that in a way she understood something about Tomas that she had not realized before. She, like he, had been raised to ascend to the throne, trained in the taking over of the running of a country, and yet somehow chaffed at still being told what to do, like an errant child.

So when King Axel VII dispatched his son with some negligible errand, she almost felt his frustration. But she caught herself. It was hard to remember that they no longer were the enemy. They were them.

She was well aware that she still had to present a perfect front. Though she could guarantee that after the coronation things would be different. She watched the back of her soon-to-be husband as he rigidly left her to face the king.

And yet, she knew that they would once again have their privacy. Tonight with the Coupling. Tonight would be no parading of bloody sheets. Tonight would be her supplication before him for the planting of his seed once again in her womb. The spreading of her legs so that his sword could once again pierce her vessel. Although this time there would be no great banquet, still the entire court would be aware of the proceeding occurring in the Coupling Chamber upstairs. At the allotted time she would be escorted upstairs, prepared in the same dress room as the night before.

And now, standing before her was the man that caused all of this. For a moment she felt rage well up from deep inside of her threatening to spill over. Her fingers itched for her sword and it would have taken all her willpower not to cleave his head from his shoulders had her sword been at her side. Yet the blood of her people beat within her, their souls crying with hers. To do something like that would instantly mean the death of thousands. It would mean the annihilation of a race of people. She could not do that. She loved her father too much. She loved her people too much. It took all her willpower to not betray what she felt, though his intimation that she was yet some empty-headed woman greatly irritated her.

Calling upon her training in court politics and procedures, she gave a low curtsy to King Axel, her eyes cast down to his feet.

“Your Highness. It is an honor that you take such an interest in me. I understand that you have a busy schedule with the running of the lands.”

When she rose again, it was to find that in real life she was almost as tall as the elderly king. She looked him directly in the eyes, a slight smile on her face. Her voice was soft, for his ears only for she was well aware that there was no real privacy in court.

“Hopefully this fair morn finds you well.”

It had been like that day not so long ago.

The heavy doors swung outward to open up the grand parlor. Tomas took two steps forward to enter the room before dropping to his knee the first time. Adorned with a purple and silver tunic, ceremonial saber slung at his waist, his dress was that of when the Royal Court of Blackwood was in session. Walking slowly across the parlor, Tomas moved with the dignity and strength from his life of military training. It seemed in contrast to the older, slouched man in front of him. The king, draped in purple robes himself, sat at a large table stooped over documents. He read and worked, ignoring the entrance of the young handsome man. Not until Tomas reached the front of the table and knelt again did the King suggest he was aware of any other man in the room.

“Arise,” the King said. “Soon enough, my son, you will kneel for none; they will kneel for you.”

Tomas did as he was commanded and stood at attention. “As you told me before, Your Majesty. As I know too well.”

The King looked up from his papers with a raised eyebrow. “Do I hear a tone of, Tomas?”

Tomas stood stoic, but did not answer.

The King let the silence linger, yet decided to relent after the moment. “The tailor’s guild?”

“Satisfied, Your Majesty?”

“Good good. Fools with their misguided reservations. Too many were too young to remember my coronation; and they seem to believe that they hold some influence over the throne.” He scratched some things in a ledger. “Since you have already met with the Princess this morning, I have taken the liberty to cancel the coupling ceremony for tonight.”

“Cancel, sire?”

“Yes, there is no need. If you wish to continue the coupling in the morning, please let your staff know in the future so the proper protocols can be …”

Tomas broke in, “Sire, we did not couple this morning.”

The king shot a look up by the interruption. “How dare you speak over me, boy.”

Tomas stood straighter and held his ground.

“You met with the woman in private, did you not? What on earth did you do during that time?”

“I … well .. I wanted to get to know this woman. She is to be my wife.”

The king pushed himself back from his desk and stood slowly. While Tomas grew taller than his father, the King knew how to create a presence that would tower over the known world. “You know this woman already, Tomas. She is Thrusta. She is of the lowcountry. Her people are the beasts who ambush, spy, and rot our country from the inside out. Until they are under out full control, they will still do that.” He stepped around the desk and walked with a slow focused pace towards the boy. “She is to be the mother of your heir. Until that time, the only thing you need to know of her is that she still has enemy insider her and any action will be used to subvert your right to lead.”

Tomas scowled. Tomas chewed to find the right words. When they came, he was betrayed by his own breath. “Yes, your majesty.”

“I want you to think of the woman as an overgrown pasture. One that grows poison weed and dire brush. It will destroy all the lands around it. Yet if you destroy the brush and till the field, you will be able to reap what you sow on very fertile lands.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The king stepped to his desk.

“Your majesty, has the woman been told that the ceremony has been cancelled?”

“No,” the king said. “Which is good for you. Go to her chambers and tell her. While you are there I suggest you plant your seed in that fertile ground.”

….

The afternoon was late, but evening had not come. The halls of the palace still allowed safe travel without the need of candles or torch. The kitchens released their smells of the dinner to come, but it was not time to eat. As Tomas approached Zara’s quarters, he had to be aware of the time.

She would not be expecting him. She would not know he is coming. She may not even been in her quarters.

While his father's words describing his future Queen were difficult, he was a good King and his keen observations of their enemies proved more wrong than right. No matter the honesty and ease of their morning’s conversation, she still was rightfully an enemy until all matters are consummated. With or without a ceremony, a coupling was needed this evening for the good of the country.

Tomas arrived at Zara’s chambers. He knocked on the door, then opened it without waiting for an answer.

“Your Highness, you may wish to rest a bit before I prepare your bath.”

“Paytron, you know me. I’m not some empty-headed woman of the Blackwood Court. I don’t need a rest.”

Paytron gave a curtsy, attempting to hide the smile from her mistress’s words. Meanwhile, Zara sat at the desk as she poured over the map of the layout of the castle and its rooms. If she was to eventually navigate these halls correctly once she was Queen, it would not do for her to wind up in the kitchen instead of the Throne Room. Paytron had managed to obtain the drawing - from whom she did not inquire.

There was a knock at the door and Paytron appeared from the her sleeping chambers to cross the sitting room so as to answer it. Zara paid little attention and continued with her studies, assuming that it may be Father, or another servant. It wasn’t until she heard the woman gasp and say a hurriedly Your Highness that she glanced back to the surprising sight.

Tomas stood in the middle of the room facing Paytron who was in a deep curtsy with her eyes cast down to the floor. Once Tomas excused the nervous woman from the room, Paytron rose and backed to stand unobtrusively in the background.

A bemused smile played around Zara’s lips. She knew Paytron. The woman would give her life to save Zara, her Lady, her Liege. It must be to protect Zara for it certainly could not be for proprietary.

“Thank you, Paytron. You may retire to your chambers. You are not needed at this time.”

With a raised eyebrow, she waited as Payton gave a curtsy before going to her own sleeping chamber. There was the final click of the door closing and for a moment Zara surveyed the man that stood in her sitting room. Though somewhat unusual that her fiancé should enter her sitting room the way that he had, still it was not as if they were complete strangers. And then, again, there were things that Royalty could get away with simply because they were Royalty.

She could not profess to even know Tomas well enough to state with certainty the man’s moods, yet something told her that all was not as he wished it to be.

“Surely you have not become besotted with me in so short of a time that you seek me for more conversation?”

Rising from her chair, she crossed to stand before him. Zara was a fairly tall woman yet Tomas’s height required her to lift her head so that she could look him in the eyes.

“Is there a particular reason that you are here this afternoon? Or is it merely to make sure of my presence?”

Zara did not banter well. Still, she was curious as to what brought him here. Was it that important that it could not wait until the Coupling this evening? Apparently it was.

Tomas knew he would be challenged in his meeting with Zara; but the challenges only grew when he was allowed entrance to her chamber. The thought that the king planted about their enemy’s daughter only seemed to blossom throughout the day; yet it was countered to their breakfast where he found nothing but hope for the wedding to come. Regardless, expectations were to walk into this chamber and perform the dutiful act; even if his manhood was distracted by the inner debate.

Yet when he laid eyes on the princess, a new challenge was presented. She had always been presented in proper and formal attire; except when of course she was attired in nothing at all. Yet this informal presentation, with it’s white flowing lace buttoned only to hide what the imagination should not complete, entranced him. As she approached, he was aware she had not bathed. Not that unbathed made her unpleasant, instead it made her more realistic unmasked from perfumes and scents that now seem unlike her at all. When she spoke to him, it had a tinge of amusement, maybe even playful. It was not the confrontational woman who made his blood boil the night before. Still, with the state of her dress, and he kinder tone, he could feel the blood boil once more, and he grew thankful for the long purple and black tunic that hung over the much tighter riding pants.

“I am sorry for the intrusion,” he began, a bit of a smile growing on his lips. He tried to be playful too, remembering his father’s words to her that morning. “I assumed I would only be interrupting your preening or bathing or whatever little princesses do.”

His gaze made a quick look to her feet then back to face her properly. An act to try to collect himself, and try to focus on the proper challenges to face.

“I come with news. There will be no coupling ceremony this evening. Assumptions were made regarding our time together this morning, and it was believed that a coupling had already occurred. There is, now, awareness of the misunderstanding, but once the king was made aware it was too late to reinstate the celebration. The king asked me to share this news with you personally.”

Of course all the king ask of him included more, but he paused with a subconscious curiosity towards her reactions.

This was her private time. Dressed in in a white wrapper of soft material, its only closure was a ribbon that allowed the two edges of the material to meet. But it’s sheerness hid nothing.

That was all she wore. After all, she was expecting to have privacy in her chambers, and later she would bathe in preparation for the Coupling.

Of course, he had already seen it before. And would see it again tonight. Modesty was a wasted emotion. And she was not empty-headed enough to flirt though she was somewhat amused at him being there unannounced.

I am sorry for the intrusion. I assumed I would only be interrupting your preening or bathing or whatever little princesses do.

“But I am a big princess. Back in Thrustra, I would be in the courtyard training for battle with the other soldiers. Apparently here I am expected to preen and bathe. ”

He looked down, as if trying to decide how to say it.

I come with news. There will be no coupling ceremony this evening. Assumptions were made regarding our time together this morning, and it was believed that a coupling had already occurred. There is, now, awareness of the misunderstanding, but once the king was made aware it was too late to reinstate the celebration. The king asked me to share this news with you personally.

She attempted to remain deadpan though she did clench her teeth in anger. This king was quickly getting on her last nerve. So, the Coupling was off for tonight? Were the Blackwood backing out of the deal? Surely not for to do so would open themselves to all kinds of retribution.

Now what? Father would be angry. Hell, she was angry. She did not like being treated like a tavern strumpet.

She took a deep breath and then let it slowly escape, drawing herself straighter. “Is that the extent of the message? Or is there anything else that the King has decreed?”

They had known each other for nearly a day, but Tomas was beginning to pick up on her feelings by more subtle means. The shift of her lips like the teeth inside clenching. The way her bodice lifted when she straightened to speak. The slight color over the tops of her cheeks. She was growing frustrated. She was skilled at hiding these emotions, but none can completely hide all. If he heeded his fathers warnings, he would suspect her reaction to be from a master plan faltered by an unexpected change of schedule. He should grow all the more suspicious.

Yet her reaction was absolutely fetching.

Unbeknownst to his attempts to hide his emotions, a small smile cracked on his lips and his own cheeks warmed. He walked slowly towards her, closing the distance between as if he was drawn to her.

“It seems as though we must let the court know when we choose to schedule when we procreate. That way, the people will be able to properly prepare daily to celebrate when we are intimate.” His smile grew warmer as he neared her. “As silly as it sounds, I am to understand that it is protocol of the expectant first heir. Something similar must have occurred when I was conceived, but I choose not to think of my parents like that … as you may guess.”

He stood directly in front of her, the scent of the woman reaching his senses and intoxicating him all that more. “He still expects us to couple this evening. Listening to my father speak of these schedules, it is as if we were committing high treason.” He said the last words, half in jest, and half wondering if her plans were treacherous in other ways.

“I should say that the the king sends his expectations that we will couple with our without celebration. But I must say, there is a far grander question that needs to be answered.” His hand raises up and touches her shoulder, the first such touch of the soft cloth that barely covers her. “If this is the time of day you save for training, how on earth would you train for battle wearing the robes you wear? I would think the men would just fall to their knees if they saw something so beautiful.”

It was necessary that she be diplomatic though it was extremely hard. This was all for Thrustra. She was sure that he knew from her words that she was not happy about this. His slight smile caught her off guard. He found her amusing?

Never one to run, it surprised her that she felt that urge to do so now. But she reasoned that it was because his manner was not necessarily threatening. It was as soft, confidential and somewhat amused.

It seems as though we must let the court know when we choose to schedule when we procreate. That way, the people will be able to properly prepare daily to celebrate when we are intimate. As silly as it sounds, I am to understand that it is protocol of the expectant first heir. Something similar must have occurred when I was conceived, but I choose not to think of my parents like that … as you may guess.”

Once again he stood close to her, as he did when they met this morning. And once again there was something that seemed to draw her into him. It caught her somewhat off guard.

He still expects us to couple this evening. Listening to my father speak of these schedules, it is as if we were committing high treason.

She could feel her heart pounding in her breast, sure that he too could hear the sound. He was so close that the scent of him filled her senses, threatening to overwhelm her.

I should say that the the king sends his expectations that we will couple with our without celebration. But I must say, there is a far grander question that needs to be answered.

Coupling without the celebration made it all feel furtive, illicit, and a bit dirty. Oh, it was not unheard of, but usually occurred between those that had grown up knowing each other. Certainly not between those royals that had been bitter enemies save for the last couple of days.

Warmth seemed to radiate from his body as he reached out a hand to touch the flimsy wrap that inadvertently tried to cover her body. That he was fully clothed while she stood before him practically naked seemed...

If this is the time of day you save for training, how on earth would you train for battle wearing the robes you wear? I would think the men would just fall to their knees if they saw something so beautiful.

She paused. She had not expected that. And she was unsure how to answer. She was sure that it was just words. Yet, funny enough the feminine side of her, deep down, was flattered. There was a pause before answering.

“Then you have never seen me in battle, have you? How do you think that I was so successful?”

She was still, his hand on her shoulder was a tether to him that for some reason she could not break. It was strange to feel this pull to him and in a small way she tried to fight it. Without much success. Zara was, after all, a realist.

“So, as I understand you, there is to be a Coupling but without the fanfare. T’would still be a Coupling. And is that what you are here for? If so, then should we retire to my sleeping chambers?”

She toyed with him with the comments of her in battle. He could almost picture her bringing bands of warriors to their knees as they see such a creature wielding a weapon. Just as soon as he brought that image to his mind, she asked of the coupling. The way she asked seemed as much like the protocol as the rest of the court, but it still shook up. That morning, he could see how the lack of experience made that usually strong facade falter. Now as she faces yet another carnal act, she almost seems eager to find out what is to happen.

Tomas’s smile grew and his hand slid up to her shoulder. “My Princess, with all your warrior training. Maybe you can request your handmaiden to teach you to flirt as well.”

His hand hooked into the collar of her robe, traced along its lacy edge, and moved down along the cleft of her breast.

“A coupling is what my father expects of us, but if are to be Queen, then you must have a say.” He brought back the words she demanded of him the night before. It was presented as half mocking, but the intent was still there. As such, he continued, “We both wish an heir, but it would make no sense for me to take of you what you don’t want.”

His finger reached the button holding the robe in place, and worked to set it free. “So we can retire to your sleeping chamber if you wish. If not, I would understand. One does not need to rely on sleep to be satisfied.”

The air seemed unnaturally still around them, as if afraid to disturb what could be an act of war. Or was it peace? At the moment she was unsure, and his next words confirmed that he too was aware of her insecurity.

My Princess, with all your warrior training. Maybe you can request your handmaiden to teach you to flirt as well.

She colored and clenched her jaw, fighting hard to not say something biting and dangerous. No would-be ruler is happy to be told that she may be lacking in a certain area. However, once again Zara had to admit that flirting was not mandatory training in Thrustrian court.

Somehow he seemed closer each time he spoke. She was well aware of his hand as it moved along the edge of her wrap. It did not touch her skin yet she felt as if it did. How could that be? His voice was soft and personal, and if she read him correctly, he was finding her words somewhat amusing. Which was frustrating.

This would not do. Zara was used to being in charge. And then she paused. She was here because of a treaty. She was here because they were losing the war. She was here because of her people.

A coupling is what my father expects of us, but if are to be Queen, then you must have a say.

Her words came back to her from his mouth. She could see that this man was not some simpleton.

We both wish an heir, but it would make no sense for me to take of you what you don’t want.

We both wish an heir.... Was that We he and the King, or was he intimating himself and her. Damn the man! Just standing here he made her uncomfortable and unsure of herself.

He worried the button holding the two edges of the robe together. There was success and the two edges separated. It was nothing he had not seen last night at the coupling. Yet, for some reason she felt exposed. Naughty? No. Shameful? Not really. So why was it that she could feel the flush of emotions washing across her face. The soft material brushed against her nipples and strangely seemed to excite them.

What was wrong with her? His words of this morning came back to her, echoing in her head.

Last night, I did my training disservice. When we were in our chambers, and you spoke the way you speak now, I lost my decorum and focused only on my own needs. My father ensured I was educated by the finest of bed minders, yet when I look back on my actions it was as if they taught me nothing. I ask you do not judge them for this, only judge me. I don’t know if it was explained to you, but in our country once we have ensured an heir of our own, we are just to find pleasure where we can find it. Until that time, I shall do my best for you.

Just what might that training be? Just what did they teach him? This was something new for her and she suddenly found herself wishing that she was more “feminine”. More like Paytron.

Paytron was not naive and unknowing of the opposite sex. She had, without being obvious, always been popular with the Thrustrian court. Zara had never really thought about any of that. Until now.

She couldn’t let him see exactly how much his words were affecting her. Could she? Damn her indecisiveness!

So we can retire to your sleeping chamber if you wish. If not, I would understand. One does not need to rely on sleep to be satisfied.

She understood his intimation. And he was right. Sleep was not necessary. She took a deep breath. This was her intended. This was accepted. This was a Coupling.

Taking his hand, she led him into the room next door. Paytron had already drawn the curtains in anticipation of her resting before her bath and the Coupling. The air was cool and almost relaxing. Yet somehow she felt a tension in the air. It was from her. An indecisiveness or unsureness that she felt. Yet here he was, being generous and allowing her a say in the Coupling.

Despite the dimmed lights, she could easily see him and was sure that he could see her just as easily. His features seemed softened in the low light. She turned to face him, unflinching. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she should ask Paytron how to flirt.

“You spoke earlier this morning of doing a disservice to your training. Would you please show me what you mean?”

She walked him into the sleeping chamber. Even the slow, steady steps she took were enough to allow the light texture of her robe to billow and open to her sides. When she turned and spoke of his earlier words, the robe remained open. They revealed her full, firm breasts in all they glory. Yes he had seen them the night before, but like any of the male species one cannot help but to marvel when shown such a sight.

Tomas blinked his eyes, breaking the spell from her reveal. Training. “Control is the first thing they taught us, even in the face of something that is easy to desire.”

His hands slid between the robe and her sides, touching the soft skin at her ribs. There were soft strokes along the flesh, not so light to tickle, but tender enough to draw interest. He smiled at her, and said, “What I was trained to do could be summarized in a old proverb.”

His hands slowly slid upwards, then along the top of her chest, being careful to avoid her breasts. Without breaking contact with her flesh, his fingers danced up to her shoulders until they had lifted the robe ot allow it to topple off her sides.

“There are two bulls that stand above grand pasture. The young bull says to the old, ‘why don’t we hurry down there and get us a couple before they all run away.’ The old bull shakes his head and says, ‘why don’t we walk down there, take our time, and get them to ask us back.’”

Instead of moving his hands down to her breasts, he slides his fingers across her neck. “Patience,” he stated as if adding to the lessons he learned.

His hand turns, his fingers trailing across her neckbone, then slides between her breasts. Again they don’t touch them, coming close but not close enough. As his hand continues down his torso, he goes to a knee in front of her. Now looking up to where she watches, he lets himself near the last garmet she wears. Right at where the band holds he pants in place, he stops and slides in until it reaches her hip. He knew he drew close to her womanhood, knew he teased at it, but that was the point.

“Temptation.”

Finally, and seemingly too soon as well, he takes hold this final bit of cloth at her hips and pulls it to the floor. He gives her a wink, then takes a full look at the mons that is laid before him. She had carved into her netherhair an ancient Blackwood symbol. “Romanti’,” he said, the word the symbol menat. He knew she probably knew little beyond it’s textural background, and as little as she knew her she probably did not have the trim of her own choosing. His finger approached it, traced the symmetrical curves intertwining with simple knots - strong enough to keep from breaking, weak enough that only attention keeps it intertwined. It was elegantly done, but not half the beauty of what it covered up.

“Appreciation.” he recited.

He leaned in, and give the delicate spot a kiss.

It was hard to ask for something from an enemy. Yet in those seconds that she awaited his answer, she found herself curious. Perhaps she was starting to think of him less as an enemy and more of an intended.

Control is the first thing they taught us, even in the face of something that is easy to desire.

She listened intently to his words at first. Control she understood. Yet soon his fingers drew her attention. She was well aware of the increase in her heart rate, beating faster as his fingertips touched more of her skin. She had to work to listen to his words and keep her senses.

What I was trained to do could be summarized in a old proverb.

Fingertips brush across her shoulder bone to slide the wrap off her body. The thing slowly fluttered to the floor in a whisper leaving her only in her underpants.

He was speaking but she now found it harder to follow his words. The softness of his “assault” caught her off guard. She was very aware of him, very aware of his movements. Her skin felt very sensitive, as if it had set up guard and was being attacked from all sides.

Patience

She had been taught patience but never like this. Patience as to when to attack the enemy. Patience before a kill.

But this patience was different. Her heart was thumping in her breast, a wild and crazy thing trying to break free. His fingers drifted down between her breast and she was surprised that they were aching at feeling neglected. She had been taught the mechanics of sex, what to expect. Which was why the Coupling last night had been what she expected a Coupling to be. Quick and to the point.

Yet here he was teasing her. Teasing her body. And her body was confused, not knowing what to expect or what was happening next.

And then he was on his knee at her feet. As if paying homage to her. All she could do was watch, almost holding her breath. He drew her underpants down a bit, only about an inch or so. She could feel her sex begin to excite, as if awakening.

Temptation.

And with that word he slid her last bit of clothing to the floor and she stood naked before him. He looked at her, a slight smile on his face, and winked at her. As if a secret that only they two had between them.

As if suddenly, he noticed the word that Paytron had so carefully clipped into the hair down there. She held her breath, awaiting the reveal. Could he actually read ancient Blackwood? Or was it the correct word?

Romanti

She had not realized that she was holding her breath until she started to breath again.

His fingers gently traced the word. She could feel a pull down there, a definite awakening of her sex. She had not expected this feeling. This...this...she suddenly could not name what she was feeling.

Appreciation.

And then he kissed the word trimmed into the hair guarding her sex. She gave a small gasp, totally caught off guard. No training had ever mentioned anything quite so bold a move. She knew of the standard sex between a man and a woman. And the whispered sex of that between two men. But what he did somehow touched her. She had, however grudgingly, had paid tribute to him and his people. And he now paid tribute to her.

She didn’t know why she did what she did. It was a tentative touch. This from a woman that never did things tentatively. Charge! and adapt to the consequences.

Yet, do it she did. Her fingers lightly touched his hair, as if to stroke it but unsure of exactly how or why. She was trying to learn from this man, her intended. Her soon to be King. The future father of her future child.

“So you can read your ancient tongue.” What she said was not accusatory. Far from it. She spoke in more of a whisper, as if in wonderment. She didn’t even know why she said it. Because she was actually touched by his actions.