Her King - Kingdom of Raultshire

“My king, who filled your head with such nonsense?” she asks the question a genuine one.

“Everyone,” I say. No one cares about you when you are the spare's spare until you are needed. The transition has been a bloody one, but I am managing. While my sainted brothers were learning how to be kings, I was at school setting fires with my friends. It was never supposed to be me. Colossal, awkward me, a fact my father made sure to remind me of every day until the day he died. A coughing sickness swept through the realm and left nothing but devastation in the aftermath.

“That's not true. You are the most handsome man I've ever seen; however, I cannot lie with you. I must remain pure for my husband. It is only right.”

“You are not married?" I ask, wondering why her father hasn't married her off. Her beauty alone would bring a high bride price.

“Not yet, but I should not be here with you. I thought you would drink for a while, and I could get everything ready for you and be gone before you got back. This is my room. We are booked full.” She takes her hand off of my face, and I miss her warmth.

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the floor in the kitchen, of course.”

I do not like the idea of my future queen sleeping on the cold floor. As soon as I saw her, I had to have her. I must talk to her father quickly; otherwise, the Parry line will die with me because not being with her will surely kill me. Which is just as well because no other woman would ever do. Ever.

“Is there someone on staff who can assist me?” I ask, gesturing to the tub. Of course, I could do it myself, but I want her to help me.

“No, ‘tis late. I will help you, your majesty.”

“Thank you, Braya.”

She removes my overcoat and sets it on a chair before leading me to a different chair close to the tub. She has me sit, and then she drops to her knees to pull my blood-soaked leather boots off of me. Oh, how I wish she would linger, but she is fast and efficient. Something I both admire and loathe right now.

“I trust you can handle the rest. I shall turn around so you can undress and get into the tub.” She moves to get the bar of soap she dropped earlier and places it on the tub ledge. “Go ahead,” she says, turning to face the wall. She's adorable, I think, as I do what she asks. As soon as I sink into the hot water, I groan as the lavender-scented water surrounds most of me. "Too hot?" she asks, sounding concerned. She pivots to look at me, and our eyes connect.

“‘Tis perfect," I reply, making her smile.

For the first time, maybe ever, everything is perfect.

Chapter 2

Braya

What am I doing? God preserve me. Boldly, I stare at His Majesty, the King of Raultshire, while he is in the tub. I do not know who I am right now. He is a big man, so tall and broad. He has a bit of a belly, but that doesn’t bother me one little bit. His long and thick cock is not wholly covered by the water. My mouth waters, and if I am honest, I am wet between my thighs too. Everything feels heavy. My limbs, my breasts, the air between us.

I would like to say that I feel this way just because he is the king, but it is more than that. It’s a gentle giant of a man, which I realize is a contradiction. He’s covered in blood, hopefully, none of it is his, and dirt from battle, but he has been nothing but kind to me. He also somehow managed to resist the temptations of my father’s whores to come to bed alone. Having lived and worked in this tavern all my life, I’ve learned more than other young ladies my age. I am well on the shelf at twenty-two, but my father tells me he has plans for me. My mother died years ago, and since then, it’s just been my father, my older brothers, and me. I learned things here most women never would, and I believe that I am better for it.

Unbidden, I walk over to him. It is as if I am floating on air. I am inexplicably drawn to him. Dropping to my knees next to the tub, I take the cloth hanging off the side and dip it in the water, avoiding touching him. I use the soap and lather the soap onto it. When I run it over his skin, the blood washes away, showing a small puncture wound.

“Oh, my goodness, Your Highness. Are you alright?” I ask, more concerned than I ever have been before.