In the Name of a Queen

[Falcon]

Anton smiled at the offer of wine. "Yes thank you," he said not even considering the timing of his response, but fortunately not answering too quickly but neither taking time to think about it. "I'm sure your chef is excellent and If you feel I will like the red then I will defer to your excellent judgment."

King Anton proved himself to be a superb dinner guest. He was very attentive to Queen Anne, careful that their conversation would always stay on topics he thought would interest her, and never being too obvious when he did attempt to fish for information. He complemented her chef, obviously enjoying the meal set before him, and went out of his way to be courteous to her staff. The last was partly part of his own agenda, he was evaluating them to see if any might be the sort inclined to slip him an informational tidbit now and again. That and it never paid to have the servants angry with him. Servants saw and heard a great deal, and they were the ones that took care of all the little details that made life comfortable. The last time he'd made a servant angry, some years ago now, he had found out exactly how uncomfortable life could be even when everyone was doing their job to perfection. All the little things that were just barely off that couldn't exactly be said to be wrong. Anton did enjoy being comfortable. He found his mind was at its best when that was the case.

As for his assessment of Queen Anne. She seemed like a very bright girl, her face was hardly the sort he would grow tired of, and she seemed to know her people well. The last he appreciated more than the others. Even if she didn't understand the information that was brought to her the fact that she did know her people implied that information was brought to her, and Anton hope that once they grew comfortable with each other he might become privy to that information as well. He had met women who insisted on keeping themselves aloof and mysterious. They never had anything of value to say. Anton had often wondered how many people truly understood the implications of things like a harvest festival being postponed by a week. Those nobles who sheltered themselves from the world probably would never know the importance of the festival to begin with never-mind the fact that a late one indicated either some problem with the crop, or with the workers. Anne at least seemed like she would know the festival existed.

He kept his smile charming and his conversation light. He gave little away about his own life, there would be time for that later. For now they needed only focus on creating a good first impression and decide whether or not there was interest in continuing. Besides, how she handled this first meeting would tell him a great deal. For example, if he found the following morning that she did not appear to have slept well. If she was too easily stressed, or if she could not move past the stress, neither was a good thing.

 

[moffnat]

Dinner had passed swimmingly. Perhaps it had gone too well, or perhaps King Anton was simply not the man she had mistaken him for and a pleasant person despite his reputation. The thought wasn't entertained for long. Anne knew that being swayed so early in a relationship was as dangerous as it was foolish, and she convinced herself that she would never fall for such trickery.

But still, I have a woman's heart. Gods damn me, I do.

She liked the way King Anton smiled and appreciated how he treated her servants, his empty jests and small talk that seemed to dodge all inquiry. But was that not how first encounters should occur? She had spent so much time worrying in her suspicions that the queen had almost forgotten why he was here, despite the ulterior motives. So much seemed to be falling into place so quickly, too quickly, and before she realized it Anne had allowed Anton to kiss her cheek goodnight.

A fool. Now he believes you as gullible as he is egotistical. Are you so stupid? Have you read so many stories that you still believe in gallant kings on white steeds and crowns of diamond? Or is it loneliness that drove me to enter such folly?

As she reentered her chambers for the night, the latter seemed the most likely.

Hours passed. The queen removed her gown of gemstones and replaced it with one of white silk, letting her long chestnut curls tumble down to the base of her spine, all manner of accessories removed. Save one. A ring with the ReValya willow tree carved along the band, and a deep sapphire stone in the silver setting. She had never taken it off, not since her father gifted it to her on her fourteenth nameday. "Wear this with pride, Little Anne," he told her with a smile that could melt her heart to magma. "This is what makes you great. This is what makes you special. Wear this, and I am with you always."

Father, she asked the skies. If you are truly here, why do I feel so alone?

Anne rose from her featherbed and rubbed her face, hoping to massage the stress away. When that hadn't worked, she tried reading one of her favorite fiction tales about knights in shining armor and dragons of Ancient Allor, but even that could not calm her nerves. She yearned to bathe and clean the scent of Anton from her nostrils but the sound would surely wake someone, and while Anne was certain none of the maids would proclaim to be bothered she had more heart than that. They need their rest. They are as troubled as I am, only on a much more meaningless scale. She felt envy for them.

There was only one other option. Oftentimes, Ser Tristan would offer her council in times of need and gift her with wisdom that she couldn't find in her books or her ancient heroes, and while Tristan was gone from her side there was someone she had named in his place. Someone of equal value, with a much kinder face to look upon.

"Ser Nicoli?" she called softly from behind her door, wondering if he was still stationed outside or if some other knight had taken his relief. "Ser Nicoli, if you are there, I bid you to enter as you please."

I need someone to talk to, her heart pleaded, much to the mind's independent dismay. I need someone here with me.​

 

[Falcon]

Nicoli had to admit that he was a little uncertain as to the wisdom of allowing king Anton a kiss on the cheek, but then the queen was the queen and it had been her choice. Still, there was something about this arrangement that he did not like. Perhaps it was the idea that one must marry for political means, or perhaps it had been the brief flash of uncertainty he had seen in her the moment before she had entered her chambers. Something he doubted he would have seen had he not been stationed where he was. He had been outside her door ever since.

Nicoli was relieved when a servant brought him a chair, probably under captain Oswin's direction, but otherwise he remained completely alert. There was some time yet before the watch change after which he would finally be able to retire to his bed for a time leaving the Queen in someone else's care until just after breakfast. Though his seat did wonders for the stiffness in his knee it did nothing for the worries of his mind. This was not the duty the knight was used to, this was not a duty he had ever expected to be asked to perform, but he would be damned if he let his Queen down.

When she called him inside he very nearly panicked, though his face remained impassive and he entered the room and bowed before her. "Are you well, My Queen?"

The fact was simply that Nicoli was not sir Tristen. He was not a man of advanced years with salt and pepper hair with a daughter a bare few years shy of the queen's own age. When he entered he saw her not with the eyes of fond fatherly approval, which Nicoli knew Tristen would never admit to, but the eyes of a young man in his prime. Nicoli may well be a knight of the Queen's guard, but he was also a man and he knew well that he was looking at a beautiful and kindhearted woman in her night dress. The bow was more to give himself an excuse to avert his eyes than anything else.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

 

[moffnat]

He was certainly handsome, as handsome as she had remembered him being as she watched her knights train or dine or provide reports on various statistics of the kingdom. Ser Nicoli was a hasty choice to resume the duties of Head of Queensguard in Ser Tristan's absence, that much was clear. It was a decision based on need and haste rather than pure thought. He was young and dutiful, and Anne's father, King Gregory, had raised him from nothing and anointed him in the light of the gods. Yet there was something deeper that attracted vulnerable Queen Anne, something akin to his previously poor nature and devotion to his country. He is the symbol of my accomplishments, to bring the poor to places of power. He is the beacon of change.

"Thank you for coming," Anne told him, looking out towards the window. "You may sit, if you like. I apologize for this uncustomary audience, but when I find myself in times of trouble I seek my Head of Queensguard for a bit of advice and effortless company. You may leave if you feel that you have nothing to offer."

He won't leave, though. He won't because I asked him here.

The young queen brought her knees to her chest and looked down to the courtyard just below the window, sitting in her perch, a plank of plushed cushions beneath an arched window with gilded gold and silver. No knights were training below, no servants or handmaidens rushing here and there. There was nothing, and the castle slept as well as those within its walls. Except for the queen. She sighed and rested her head atop her silk-covered knees, thinking on all there was to ponder.

"What do you think of this King Anton, Ser Nicoli?" she asked with a softness to her voice, raising her head after a few moments to read the man's expression. "You may speak freely. I will not take offense."
​

 

[Falcon]

When she gave him permission to sit Nicoli settled himself onto a relatively plain, low footstool. Shifting forward to let his arms rest across the top of his legs, he watched her curiously, trying not to let his eyes linger too much or too long, but at the same time not quite able to make himself look away completely. As his queen settled into her window seat, the moonlight shining through only accented her features. Fortunately she tucked her knees up and rested her head against them and watching her grew easier when he was no longer in danger of being caught admiring her form.

For a moment, as she sat like that, he saw not his liege lady, not a queen, but a woman. A woman with questions, in need of someone to talk too, and that, he thought, he might be able to provide. Odds were he wouldn't have any good answers for her, but he could be a listening ear, which might be all she wanted.

And then she asked the question, what did he think of King Anton?

Nicoli was silent a long moment as he formulated his opinion. What did he think?

"I am not a king or ruler and therefore I can not evaluate him as such," he said finally. "I can tell you of the stories I have heard, but rumor is not always based in fact and the big picture is often difficult to see when one has only pieces. I can tell you that his lands have done well in spite of the drought, but also that his peoples' taxes are comparatively high.

"As a soldier, his stance and the absence of calluses on his hands would indicate that he lacks proficiency with the sword, but his eyes are sharp and the manner of his walk suggests he possesses speed. As a guest he is courteous and well mannered, as he should be. He pays attention to your servants which means he is aware of how much we see and hear. As a man . . ." here Nicoli paused, but after a moment he took a deep breath and continued, knowing that what he said next could so easily be misunderstood, but feeling it was a risk worth taking.

"Forgive me highness, it is not my place to say, but as a man - I did not like the way he looked at you . . ."

 

[moffnat]

Ah. There was that. The queen chuckled, not the politically motivated laugh that was expected between those who made jests, but one of a woman. Simply a woman.

"I noticed that as well," Anne stated calmly. "He looked at me with hidden lust, but whether it was for my body or the crown on my head, I'm not sure. I don't know which one would make me the most uncomfortable."

Queen Anne was accustomed to sideways looks from the male gender since the age she flowered. Her body was the shape of an hourglass, most desired for lustful thoughts and childbirth, and she was dainty and short with natural curls the color of chestnut as long as her hips. Her walk was dignified and charming with a smile that could light up any room brighter than a candle. Eyes the color of rain shone brightly, cheekbones that framed her face well remained dominant, and her form was slender.

Oh, yes. There was much to be desired in her. But she had always thought that her body was a test, a veil that needed to be lifted for the true match to be found. But how can I blame him for looking?

"Lust for my body, I can handle. I've dealt with such things before. But the throne is a much more delicate matter. I've considered passing a law that none but the ReValya-blooded spouse can have the High Seat in the throne room, so whoever marries me will have no political influence as I will. That would certainly weed out those who seek to harm my kingdom or abuse the privilege of my maidenhood, but there are so many other delicate matters to be considered. War, poverty, economical depression--the people will need a king to lean on as much as they'll need me, and who better to help than a man who shares my burden of monarchy?

"Ah, but the rumors about him are equally disturbing. I hear he keeps a sorceress as a mistress and uses her magic in exchange for sexual favors, riches, whatever she asks of him. Rumors are not always factual, that is true, but where then would they have come from? I would hate to let a man into my confidence who shared a bed with another, much less a sorceress. Those people are unpredictable. I need a light for my people to dance in, not darkness."

Suddenly, she stiffened. Anne looked to Nicoli as if she had dropped some sort of bomb that was meant to blind him, but instead of panicking she began to laugh.

"Oh, forgive me Ser Nicoli. I tend to blab when I'm frightened. I hope I have not talked you into a sleepy stupor. That has happened, once..." She toyed with the ends of her hair, inspecting it for a split.​

 

[Falcon]

"No," Nicoli breathed straightening in his seat. "No, don't be sorry. To have so much to consider and to . . ." and to what? To have to put up with a political marriage of convenience? To constantly have to worry about the entire kingdom instead of just her own family? to have the kingdom's welfare riding on a marriage to a man who rumor stated was already bedding another, and to know that marriage or no marriage that behavior most likely would continue, it was not a position he liked to imagine anyone in.

He wished he had an answer for her, something he could say that would help, but nothing he could think of was any good. She could not simply give up the match and hope for a better offer, and he did not think she'd throw tradition out entirely and choose a commoner. So Nicoli was left to sit in silence wished there was something he could offer that might help.

Still, he could not leave her hanging in the silence and after a moment he spoke again. "I wish I had words of wisdom to offer, or even something that could help ease your mind. Unfortunately . . . unless . . . if you were serious in your wish to hear me sing . . . I do not claim to be any good you understand . . . but should you desire so, I would not refuse the request . . ."

 

[moffnat]

"Hm?" Anne lifted her gentle head and looked upon her shining knight once more, blinking twice. Was he serious? "I only meant that as a jest, Ser Nicoli. I hope you don't feel obligated to sing to me."

Still, it was tempting. It had been a long time since Anne had heard a genuine song from the mouth of a near-stranger, and certainly the poor had melodies and lyrics that were different from the ones she grew up with in court. Curling her hair behind her ears, Anne stood from her perch by the window, the moonlight accentuating all that was visible through the silk, and began to pace in front of the columns of bookshelves.

"However," she said finally, "if you think a song would help, I won't stop you. I suppose a part of me is curious to hear, now that you've offered. As long as you don't mind. I would hate to embarrass you."​

 

[Falcon]

"I do not know that it will help." Nicoli said softly, his eyes on his hands, "but it might give you something better to think about than your current worries . . . even if it is only to laugh at me."
He kept his eyes lowered and was silent a long moment before he took a deep breath and began.

"By the field filled with wheat, under sky painted blue,
Where the sun shines down on my homeland,
Where I and my father used to do a man's work,
Once upon a time in my homeland"

His voice was deep and rich, and could certainly never be called hard on the ears. It was untrained true, but there was a natural warmth to it that more than made up for any imperfections.

"Oh you'll take the main road and I'll choose the wood path,
Yet I'll make it home long before ye,
For it may be my family, I never see again,
Here in this place I call my homeland."

The notes came easily to him, along with the memory of his father's voice as it taught him the words. Nicoli barely dared to raise his eyes to his Queen to see if she liked what she heard, so deeply was he focused on the melody of a song that had long ago been written on his heart, a song he hummed every time he road out with no guarantee of coming back.

"It was there that we parted long, long ago,
Far from that field in my homeland.
Where sweet heads of grain in the wind slowly wave,
And the sun shines down warm and golden.

"Oh you'll take the main road and I'll choose the wood path,
Yet I'll make it home long before ye,
For it may be my family, I never see again,
Here in this place I call my homeland."

Perhaps he should have chosen a happier tune, Nicoli thought absently as he drew towards the end of the song. Something more lighthearted, something with a better chance of making her smile, helping her sleep. But what was done was done. He couldn't very well change it now.

"Here in this place I call my homeland."

He slowly raised his head then, hesitantly trying to judge her reaction. He realized then that some small part of him wanted her to approve of his voice, not as a queen acknowledged a good performance, but as a woman acknowledges that a man has a talent for something. That was very dangerous territory to let his thoughts wander into, but surly a single song could not cause too much harm.

 

[moffnat]

By the field filled with wheat, under sky painted blue,
Where the sun shines down on my homeland,
Where I and my father used to do a man's work,
Once upon a time in my homeland.

Anne froze where she stood, watching him intently from the corner of her bright blue eyes. How...? He sang of longing and misery, separation from one that he loved, be it a place or a woman or the comforts of family, she knew not. His voice stirred something deep within the pit of stomach, and it would have given her butterflies and sent her flying had the song not been one of recognition.

Oh, yes. She knew Nicoli's song indeed.

His voice was much different than the one her father spoke and sang with, yet it was unmistakably the same tune. "The Cry of Leondeal" it was called. King Gregory would part his lips and let the gentle melody sway forth whenever Anne picked up the tomes on Leondeal's dark history and came to her father, crying of injustice and unfairness. As a young child, she hadn't understood the affects of war and it plagued her many a night.

"Little Ana," King Gregory had asked her, picking the princess up and settling her on his lap. She had only been a girl of seven and was easy to carry. "Why the tears?"

"These people, papa," she would sniffle. "They were hurt. Bad men hurt them."

"Aye, they did." He had picked up the tome and ran his strong fingers over the words written there, telling of Leondeal's fall and the cruel overthrow of some old king from a century past. "Don't cry for our mountain neighbors, Anastasia. Leondeal has had peace for many years. Their people prosper."

"But why? Why did so many people have to die?" Never before had a child been so sensitive, at least that was what she had gathered at such a young age, but the king was everything but impatient. He would whisper words of comfort to his sobbing princess and offer a song, a song from times of war and destruction, and though sad it was Anne had always fallen asleep to its melody.

Oh you'll take the main road and I'll choose the wood path,
Yet I'll make it home long before ye,
For it may be my family, I never see again,
Here in this place I call my homeland.

It was moments before Anne realized she had been crying. The queen hadn't noticed that Ser Nicoli had turned to view a reaction from her, and instead, she wiped her tears and looked down at glistening hands, laughing quietly at her folly. I am a fool, no more or less than when I was ten years past.

"Gods," she cursed softly. "I'm sorry. This isn't normally my reaction to sweet songs, ser knight. My father..."

He sang this to me. I thought of it at the funeral of my family, my father, my mother, my brothers, all of them separated from their homeland and never to return. Just like the people of Leondeal.

Anne blinked her eyes and shook her head, holding her arms close to her body. "I apologize, Ser Nicoli. I'm certain this is not the response you wanted or expected. You have not upset me, and your voice is as beautiful as I praised it earlier, but..."

What do I say? Do I confess how lonely his lyrics make me feel, how much the weight hanging over me has suddenly trippled? Do I tell him how all I yearn for is someone to hold me like my father once did, to sing me songs like this and travel back to a time when things were easier and the weight of a country didn't rest on my shoulders? I was not born for this. My brother was, he was to be king and now he's dead and here I am. Queen Anne, Mother of Mercy, Daughter of Death.​

 

[Falcon]

The moment he saw her tears Nicoli was off the stood and halfway to her side before he realized exactly how inappropriate the action he'd been about to perform would be. There was a clean handkerchief in his hand, nothing more than a plain square of cotton he had hastily pulled from his pocket, and he held it out to her hesitantly. He was almost painfully aware that they were in her personal chambers and that she most likely had something better and of her own near by, but it was all he could think to do. He half expected her to pull out one of her own and tell him to leave.

"It is I who should apologies, your Majesty," he murmured, unable to meet her eyes. "I thought - well I did not think. It was simply the first song to cross my mind. I never intended to cause you pain."

Part of him wanted to leave, to give her the privacy she no doubt wanted to compose herself, but he could not unless she dismissed him. Part of him wanted to offer comfort, but he had not the words. His original instinct had been to hold her, to wipe away the tears, but even had they grown up the best of friends a knight could not dare be so familiar with the Queen unless specifically requested, and even had they both been peasants he was not sure she would have allowed such a thing if he had tried. He wished he had not offered the song. He wished he had chosen better.

"I wish to the Gods there was something I could do to ease your load."

Nicoli had never intended to speak the thought aloud, but no sooner had it crossed his mind than the words had dropped from his lips in a hoarse whisper that he was sure she must have heard.

 

[moffnat]

"No, please. I have a woman's heart. A heart of folly." Anne did not believe that to be true, but all men did. By voicing it, she thought she would give his own thoughts some confirmation. "My father used to sing that song to me when I read of the destruction of Leondeal. Forgive me. It reminded me of him."

King Gregory was a kind, just ruler. Strict, yes. But kind. His people prospered because he could make decisions that Anne could not--he drilled into the Golden Lake in search of gems while Anne believed in preserving its beauty, he sacrificed the education of children for the sake of the money it would save, he turned homeless shelters into brothels only for the income. These were decisions Queen Anne could never agree with, yet her father's people never went hungry, and hers were starved.

Many loved King Gregory di ReValya. And many hated him.

Do some hate me as well?

"I suppose my father was not a popular one with you," she stated, accepting the handkerchief with a small thanks. "Crime was rampant for the poor under his reign. He chose to invest his money in feeding the less fortunate rather than protecting them. He did not have the loyalty of his guards as I do. Even now, I question it sometimes..." She sniffled and wiped her tears, smiling warmly at the tall gallant knight standing before her.

"You are too kind, Ser Nicoli. I thank you for the beautiful song, and for putting up with my ridiculous bantering. I hope I haven't bored you."

Anne met his eyes, and the entirety of her being seemed to sigh.​

 

[Falcon]

Nicoli could only stare, slightly taken aback as he looked into the cool pools of her eyes and the warmth of her smile. "No," he answered softly, his voice nearly a whisper, but still earnest in his reply. "You haven't bored me, and you are not ridiculous." He looked at her a moment, his brown eyes showing the depth of his thoughts, but before he could be dismissed he spoke again, daring to share them with her.

"You are a woman, and it is obvious that you have a heart, but I do not think it is filled with folly. I do not pretend to be a ruler, to know what it is to have the burden you bear, but I do not think it is folly to remember your father. My own passed some five winters back and there are still days when I feel the loss.

"Neither do I think it folly to care for your people, to want them safe, and to wonder about the choices you've made for them. It is your heart your people adore, and your heart they love you for. We may be poor, but we are safe and happy in our poverty. We know the little bread we earn will still be ours when we sit down at the table. I would rather be a happy beggar than a rich merchant in fear of my life, and I know I am not the only one to feel so. You cannot control the rain, or where it falls, but you make sure no corner of your kingdom is overlooked and for that we are grateful. When I was a child I learned to fight because it was a necessity. Now I fight because I can protect this place and the hope for a future that exists here. As for your father—"

Here Nicoli knelt in a single fluid motion, though a slight grunt escaped his lips as his knee touched the floor. One hand over his heart he bowed his head, the perfect picture of knightly obedience. Yet had he not been kneeling his words might have been taken as bordering on insulting of the dead.

"Your majesty would be correct in presuming that some of your father's decisions were less than popular. I distinctly remember shouting matches between the King and Captain Oswin on several occasions and I have often thought it was quite fortunate that the two got along so well. However no one blames him.

"Everyone of us knew the day we picked up the sword what the cost might be. We knew that we might neither understand nor approve of the reasons behind the things we were asked to do, that sometimes we might never know the reasons at all. But every man of us who picked up the sword of your guard knew that be it peril of life, or loss of limb, or the endless boredom that comes with recovery, we were serving something greater than ourselves. Your father paid us well, but you have shown care for our well-being and that, my liege, is worth serving for 'till life's end. You have but to ask and we will see it done."

 

[moffnat]

His words fell over her like water on rock. All he said made sense, even in her fragile state. Not a word went wasted nor a heartbeat without a skip. He was all a king or queen could want in a knight (or what a woman could want in a man, but she would never admit to that). Perhaps I somehow knew what I was doing when I named him Head of Queensguard. Perhaps it was fate.

Anne had to resist the urge to cry all over again. He knelt before her and she returned the favor, an act that would leave an open court with gaping mouths and words to gossip had the two of them been in public, but they were safe within her walls and she felt no shame in sitting on her knees before Ser Nicoli, a true knight in shining armor. He was so tall that he towered over her where she sat, something that was politically disrespectful and demanded some sort of punishment, but Anne was not her father. In my chambers I am not a queen. Only Anne. Anastasia di ReValya.

"Ser Nicoli," she said with a beaming grin, "you have surpassed my expectations and more. Should I require your services beyond the healing of Ser Tristan, I will not hesitate to call upon you before anyone else." Anne leaned forward and pressed her lips lightly to the top of his forehead, cupping his cheeks in her hands, letting them linger before she pulled away. The ultimate gift a Queen could give her knight, a royal blessing, a mark of mutual devotion. For a moment Anne feared he could hear the racing of her heart.

"I thank you from the depths of my folly-free heart, dear knight. You may go as you please."

The soft smell of lilac from her skin lingered in the air as she stood, retiring to her bed.​

 

[Falcon]

Nicoli struggled to hide his startlement when she sat with him. He struggled even harder to hide his shock when she kissed his forehead.
The feel of her lips on his skin, her fingers against the stubble on his cheeks, it was far more than he had ever expected to receive from her. More blessing that most knights even dared to dream of. He sat frozen for a moment, breathing in the scent of Lilacs in the air as he waited for his heart to beat again. One second and then two before he rose and with a small bow let himself out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

It was a short time before the watch change, but Nicoli spent those moments, mind racing, thinking on everything he had heard and seen. He now believed he understood why Tristen was so fond of the Queen, and when the time came it was with a jumble of emotions that he finally returned to his place in the guard barracks and readied for bed. His spot was little more than a closet containing a narrow bed with a pile of blankets for use against the cold and a small table with a wash basin, but it was his and his alone. He had served long and with enough loyalty to earn this tiny little corner he could call his own.

There were a few like him, unmarried men, in the guard. Those that served long enough had similar little nooks. Those that were new recruits lived in the main barracks bunk room, or slept four to a room in the smaller spaces above. Those with families lived in their own homes. There were days when Nicoli wondered if he'd ever have that again, people to share his life with, but on nights like this one he was grateful for a chance to be alone with his thoughts.

The bed may have been narrow, but it was comfortable and the blankets warm, and the dreams that filled his slumber seemed to center around a pair of clear blue eyes.

---

The guest chambers Anton had been shown to were more than adequate. In fact he strongly suspected they were the best rooms in the entire palace aside from those belonging to Queen Anne. Considering that he was visiting nobility they had better be.​

​

The feather bed was large enough to hold three comfortably, a fact he might have enjoyed to the fullest in other circumstances, there was a merry fire in the grate and the furnishings were as fine as one could expect to see in a country this poor. Not home, but it would do. The servants had put his things out in all the proper places for him, and someone had left a jug of hot mulled cider on the desk for him, which he was thoroughly enjoying as he lounged in a blue silk sleep shirt. Everything appeared to be perfect - except for one thing.​

​

On the dressing table sat a little silver mirror which someone had obviously mistaken as part of the King's shaving supplies. With a sigh he rose and, setting his cider aside, relocated the mirror to the center of his mantle piece. He'd be able to see it from anywhere in the room, should he be contacted according the the agreement, he would know. Strange how a little detail like that seemed so important.​

​

Anton almost hoped he wouldn't be, that this night, at least, he would be forgotten about. The unoccupied bed looked very inviting and he wanted enough rest to begin things fresh in the morning. The Little Queen was a most interesting target and he couldn't help but wonder what she would do next.​

 

[moffnat]

Swift, frozen breezes from the brisk mountainside swept through the open window and turned her skin to gooseflesh. The moon hung high above the Whispering Mountains, with winds that gave the name proper justice, harsh words that could freeze a man in minutes. It wasn't long before she closed the shutters and lit a fire where one ought to have been some time ago. Will I ever get used to this place?

When Saurella was younger she never would have imagined the course of her like taking her to a place such as Leondeal, a kingdom built on rock and mountain rather than grass and meadows. She admired it something terrible despite the bitter flaws. It was wise to build on a foundation that would never crumble or decay with the passing of time, and though unpredictable and cold the mountains could be, she preferred stability over the promise of comfort.

But, of course, she did not lack in the latter.

King Anton had seen to it that she was spoiled quite generously. Flowing gowns of silk and cotton with various hues of brilliance, jewels to hang around her porcelain neck and dangle from the ends of her ears, her own place at court, a room within the palace walls--oh, yes. Saurella wanted for nothing.

At least, until her king went riding for the maidenhead of some foolish queen.

ReValya was poor and desperate, ruled by a girl who was as false as the happiness the lands claimed to harbor. At every mention of the filth-covered kingdom some leagues away, Saurella would always laugh piteously and dismiss the topic at once, never convinced that such folly was worth her breath. She vowed never to see ReValya unless Anton had been made its king, and only then would she attend court to keep the king's bed warm and his body happy. She looked longingly to her little silver mirror and giggled deviously, hopping towards of bed as naked as her nameday, and waving a fragile hand over the reflective glass. Slowly, it began to glow.

"Sweet king," she whispered, biting her lower lip in anticipation. "Anton. If you don't answer, I shall be cross with you." It was a jest made out of the playful lust from a young woman, yet there was truth in the statement as well. She twirled an ebony strand of hair and looked directly into the glass, waiting for the moment when she could look upon her lover once more.

You will answer me, my king.​

 

[Falcon]

Anton sighed when the soft voice echoed in the chamber, his lover's whisper a soothing caress to his ears that brought him awake from his doze. The candle he had left burning in its holder on his dressing table gave just enough light to the room to complement the warming glow of the embers in the fireplace. It had been only a little over an hour since he had first retired to sleep, but the little rest he had gained had been enough. Rather than moodily answering the originally dreaded call, he moved to the mantle piece with anticipation and took up the mirror. How fared his home? Were things has he had left them? Were the nobles being compliant or causing trouble? Had his Aunt overstepped the bounds of the authority he had given her?

"I'm here," he answered softly, letting his fingers trail across the surface. The soft glow emanating from it brightened as the reflection in the glass shimmered. A moment later it was not his own face he saw, but hers.

"Saurella," he started with a soft groan in the back of his throat, the sound full of appreciative admiration, when he realized she was clothed in nothing save her skin. "Surly you know that my enjoyment of your presence is better served when we can actually be in the same room?"

His mind was already filling in the gap between what he could not see beyond the mirror's edge and memory. Flesh soft to the touch, the gentle swell of her chest, the smooth curve of her hip. He half wished he had found a way to bring her with him, but with her at his side it would have been entirely too easy for his enemies to find the truth of the rumors surrounding them, giving Queen Anne every reason in the world to refuse his proposal with no one to question the decision. That and he far preferred to know Saurella was safe at home behind stonewalls with his best guards to ensure the safety of both her person and her abilities.

Her abilities . . . Anton couldn't keep the knowing smirk from crossing his face. "Or perhaps you delight in torturing me by flaunting what I cannot have?"

Still, there was no one he trusted more to keep an eye on things in his absence. Not quite the compliment it sounded considering that generally speaking he trusted no one.

 

[moffnat]

Saurella chuckled, a high and giddy sound, one that paraded her dominance over him in a manner that would not leave him questioning the integrity of his crown. She knew his eyes were looking upon all that he could not see. Her body missed him as much as his missed her, no doubt, but the ploy of speaking to him naked wasn't to offer him pleasure that reminded her of his home in her soft flesh. It was merely to remind him that her body could bleed anything from him that it wished. She smiled to know that he would think on that.

"Why, Your Grace, if I wanted to torture you surely I would have done so by now." It was hard not to remain naughty or give him something to look at, something to please himself within walls that were less than pleasurable, but she resisted. "I see you've found your way into some comfortable chambers. I hope you don't get too cozy and leave me behind."

Of course, Saurella knew that was not an option for him. The two were bonded too tightly now, in more than just flesh and words. She toyed with an ebony curls and blew a kiss towards him.

"How fares the great kingdom of ReValya?" she teased.​

 

[Falcon]

"Comfortable indeed," Anton answered, spinning the mirror around so she could see the rooms before taking the enchanted object back to the bed and reclining with it among the sheets. "Though they lack anything worth abandoning you over. Nothing even compares." It was driving him crazy, the way she held her mirror. He could see just enough to hint at everything while nothing was actually shown. Just this small taste and he was already craving her, and the look in her eye said she knew it too. Truthfully there was no need for these games and reminders. He was already hers. All Saurella need do was ask. He'd grant her anything, short of his crown.

"The queen is a fool, a simple girl child who tries to play at hearts and pretends to rule. She attempted to make me jealous over one of her knights yet later let me kiss her cheek," he chuckled. "I'll admit the girl pulls off a fine doge, but I think it may be only because she does not always know the answers to the questions. A dodge due to ignorance is no dodge at all. Her innocence is admirable, but I don't particularly enjoy being an instructor."

His eyes strayed towards the edge of the Mirror's frame, his hand shifting on it as if he believed that by tilting the object he'd be able to see just a tiny bit more than what he was currently allowed to view. He hated when Saurella did this, intentionally distracted him this way when he needed to have a serious conversation and keep his thoughts ordered, or perhaps he should say that he hated allowing himself to be put through this sort of slow torture when there would be no reward later for his restraint. No, he'd have to tolerate his lover's taunting and the lack of sleep that came with the memory of their entwined bodies. His leash was firmly in her hand. He wished she hadn't called.

"Her knights seem formidable though." Anton continued keeping his voice normal, "I'd much rather everything goes to plan, than risk war." He sighed as he settled back against his pillow, trying to focus his mind on what he needed to know and not on what his body wanted. "How fare things at home? My Aunt has not plotted any uprisings behind my back? And you? You are well I hope?"

 

[moffnat]

Saurella observed every move he made, every glance he stole. She took in the suitable state of his ReValyan quarters and chuckled when his eyes wandered where they could not see. She could feel her body warming at the thought of his gaze and his hands and his voice and all manner of other terribly inappropriate things, but Saurella would not allow him the satisfaction of knowing he had her body shuddering in need.

He probably already knew. It was hard to miss the glazed look in her eyes.

"Ah, yes. Things here are fine. The nobles obey your aunt well enough, though I don't like her in the slightest. Too kind, too...noble. I prefer the dirty talks of court versus the honorable ones." She glided a finger down the edge of the mirror as if it would stand in place of her lover's cheek. "I'm alright as well, but not nearly as alright as I would be if you were in this room." Oh, the things I would do. "But I'm sure you've thought about that well enough. I can't imagine that little queen arouses you any. Virgins never do, am I right?"

She giggled deviously and rolled over, so she lay on her stomach with the mirror propped up in front of her face. "Although, if it please Your Grace to hear, I've had little visions about your little queen. None near as wonderful as the visions you're about to get of me, but I thought it might help."

Saurella licked her lip, knowing how much he loved it when she did so.​