A/N: This is the smut chapter for my fic "Heavy Are the Hearts that Wear the Crown." Since not everyone is into the naughty bits of fanfiction I decided to post the full chapter here in all its smutty glory instead of changing my rating to M, and thereby potentially losing readers. Enjoy.
Elissa hesitantly opened the door to the royal bedroom, forcing her spine straight and wearing a cloak of confidence she clearly did not feel. Dinner had been sheer torture that night. Wanting to keep the news of the elven guard's demise under wraps for as long as possible, she had insisted on the celebration dinner to honor the champions of the tourney continue on as planned. Of all the times in which Elissa had found herself having to fake emotions, none was so trying as that feast. Thoughts of Shianni, Ambrose, Alistair and decapitated heads bombarded her throughout the evening, and she found her brilliant smile strain at the corner of her mouth as she sought to play the part of Queen. The nobility had no idea what transpired, and took full advantage of her hospitality, drinking and laughing long into the night. The sound of such gaiety seemed taunting and cruel when Elissa thought on the dismembered elf. She had not even bothered to ask his name, and the idea of such callousness shamed her to her soul.
Alistair had been absent during the festivities, and Elissa found herself making excuses for her husband, all the while wondering if she could lay the blame for his absence at the feet of Eamon, the scheming snake. And so she had come to their bedroom as soon as she was able, dreading what she would encounter when face to face with the man, but determined to see it through, even if it meant her ruin.
Alistair was seated in a chair, his back to her, eyes focused on a dying fire that lay smoldering in the hearth. Elissa calmly closed the door and cleared her throat, announcing her presence, but he didn't so much as flinch at the noise.
"You weren't at dinner," she said softly, "are you well?"
"Why, Elissa?" he asked, clearly not wanting to engage in pretense.
"What's done is done, Alistair," she murmured, walking wearily to bed, her fingers wrapping around the bed post in an effort to steady herself.
"Do you realize what you have done?" he asked, voice gravely and harsh.
"I've acted like a queen," she said, her tone the very model of righteousness.
"Funny how that is your reasoning for everything these days," Alistair said bitterly, finally turning his head to look upon her.
"It is my reasoning because it is the truth," she said, embarrassed at the pleading tone in her voice, "A queen has a duty to her people, to see them whole and cared for. It is too great a burden and I am but one woman but it is every day, Alistair. And If I do not make the hard choices, if I do not push you to do the very same, then our people die, by the hundreds, and I will not let that stand so that someone's feelings can be spared."
"A duty to her people, but what of her friends?" Alistair countered softly, turning to gaze at his fisted hands, clutched tightly about something she could not see.
"I do not want to talk about Shianni," Elissa said harshly, her voice catching on the elven woman's name.
"If not Shianni, then let's discuss Ambrose," Alistair replied angrily, swiftly rising to his feet. "Is your duty to him greater than that of your people?"
"What are you talking about?" she snapped, feigning ignorance as she strode to her vanity, refusing to meet his gaze. "Ambrose has nothing to do with this."
"Yes, but he does have something to do with this," Alistair said patiently, loosening his fist to reveal a crumpled lavender ribbon. Elissa stared hard at the favor and felt herself grow pale. She knew she would have to face the consequences of goading Eamon into action, but she truly had not thought the man such a fool to press the issue when other, far more dire circumstances demanded the king's attention.
"I can't believe it," Elissa breathed with a shake of her head, "the bastard really sought you out to tattle on me."
"What is the meaning of this?" her husband prodded, refusing to be thrown off track by her comments.
"Ambrose sought my favor," Elissa answered simply, hands reaching up to loosen the many plaits that bound her hair, "And as you were not competing, nor anywhere to be found, I saw no harm in bestowing the token upon my dear friend."
"You are my wife," Alistair hissed, throwing the bit of fabric to the ground, "whether I am competing or not, your favors are mine."
"And as your wife I have been offering my favors for weeks now," she countered angrily, "the only favors that truly matter and you have run from them every time. Do not seek to punish me over a scrap of ribbon when you have not done so much as kiss me behind closed doors!"
"It is not just the blighted favor, Elissa," Alistair growled, "Eamon has watched you, had seen how you dote on that man."
"I warned you that Eamon would do this Alistair," she cried, rising to her feet, "I warned you that should you not get on heir on me that man would concoct a reason for my immediate dismissal. Are you shocked that he has now done so?"
"I have seen you, Elissa!" Alistair accused, "leaning far too close and sharing whispered conversations that leaving you breathless."
"From laughter, you buffoon! And before you lay any more accusations at my feet allow me to point out that Ambrose is far more likely to seduce you than he ever would me!"
Alistair stared at her in shock, all his righteous anger leaving him in a rush. Elissa would have found it funny had she not been so filled with indignation and the need to defend her honor.
"You mean…that is to say…he's…"
"Fey? Yes, which is why you have nothing to fear from that quarter at least," she replied softly, her tone hurt and defensive. "And had Eamon even once bothered to do his research into the subject he would have discovered the truth quite quickly. Ambrose is rather famous for his exploits. But that is not the way of our dear chancellor, he is far more concerned with appearances than facts."
"He wants me to seek a divorce," Alistair said meekly, eyes downcast, "on ground of infidelity."
Elissa stared at him hard, silence stretching tight between them. She had known this was coming, even had prepared herself for the devastating blow, but she was laid low when presented with the reality of it. Something inside her broke, shifted, and she lost all sense of nobility and dignity. She would not back out graciously, slinking away to live out her life in shame and ignominy. She would dig in a fight, with claws and teeth, for her position, her life, and yes, even for this man standing before her. A man whom against all odds, she had come to care for in some small way. It was not love, of that she knew, but she found herself drawn to his sense of humor, his unexpected kindness, and she could not deny that something in her sparked hot and heavy when he railed at her with such impassioned speech, his eyes blazing and locked with hers. So no, she would not acquiesce to an old man's scheming. This is where she belonged. She was the queen.
"Infidelity?" she said, her voice harsh and grating, "I'll show you infidelity." Angrily she pulled at her gown, unlacing the stays with fumbling, shaking fingers. Alistair followed their progress with wide eyes, face blushing crimson.
"Elissa, you don't-"
"I will not stand by while my virtue is called into question," she cried as she pulled the garment from her body, leaving her in nothing but hose and a corset, "I have done nothing but try to be a wife to you in more than name, and by the Maker, I will not suffer fools who seek to wrest my crown because you will not take me as I have asked you to." She angrily strode to him, hands fisting the fabric of his doublet as she pushed him hard against the wall. Alistair gazed down at her, breath coming in labored pants as he drank her in. She was magnificent in her fury, and he could not deny that a part of him, the part that was undeniably male, roared its approval at her actions. He could not help but think back to the few moments of intimacy they had shared, each kiss and touch flashing through his mind until his skin fair hummed with the desire to trail his fingers along her honey skin. It had been too long since he had lost himself in the embrace of a woman, and he yearned to slake his lust, an emotion that had been growing with every night he slept beside his wife, in the beautiful woman standing before him.
"Elissa, don't do this," he murmured softly, unable to tear his eyes away from her heart shaped lips, his voice husky and low.
"Give me a reason not to," she said angrily, her dark eyes flashing, "Do it, Alistair, take me, and I'll show you proof of my fidelity! Spill my virgin blood and you will see that I have been a faithful wife!"
It was too much and he was helpless against her demands. When his lips met hers in a crushing and possessive kiss, Alistair lost all sense of reason and restraint. She was so close, her body pressing a line against his that set his skin ablaze. He moaned hungrily into her mouth, the sound swallowed as she parted her lips, allowing him access to deepen his embrace, tongues dueling for supremacy. His hands moved of their own accord, one fisting the cascade of hair at her nape, the other clutching her hip, urging her closer. When she pulled back to catch her breath, eyes half lidded, he growled at the loss of contact and tightened his grip, refusing to let another inch separate them.
"Would it not be better on a bed, Alistair?" Elissa panted, the familiar tartness to her voice goading him even further. In response he spun her about, pinning her to the wall and dipping his head to claim her mouth once again. She let out a gasp of surprise, one that soon turned to a gasp of pleasure as he thrust his pelvis into hers, marveling at how well her hips cradled him; a perfect fit. Alistair's hand caressed a burning trail over her skin, wanting to explore every inch of her exposed flesh, as if he would never get enough. Elissa's nail's pricked into his back as he trailed his fingers over her neck, her body arching into him, silently asking for more.
"Maker…you taste like every man's downfall," he whispered against her lips, breath hot and labored. She should have been angry at his words, furious, but lost as she was in that moment it did nothing but cause her to reclaim his mouth, kissing him with a renewed passion that lit the two of them with need.
Elissa fumbled to unlace his doublet, pausing to gasp as he licked a sensuous line from her jaw to her collar bone, nipping the sensitive flesh where shoulder joined neck. When at last she managed to tear the garment from him, tossing it to the floor, she ran her hands up the smooth planes of his chest, finger tips grazing over the silver webs of scars that marked his flesh. His hissed in pleasure with every stroke and soon found himself grinding against her hips, desperately seeking more. When he thrust just right, brushing his hard length against her core, she cried out, head thrown back at the sensation, and something primal over took him. With a possessive roar he wrapped an arm about her waist, hoisting her into the air, free hand moving to wrap her lean legs around his hips, pulling her close with a teasing grind.
"Alistair," Elissa breathed, unconsciously writhing against him, each movement a torture all its own. He could hear the unspoken begging in her voice, took satisfaction in knowing that he was the cause of her flushed skin, her labored pants, and turned from them from the wall, stumbling to the bed with renewed urgency. The pair of them collapsed on the mattress, mouths fusing together once more, and Alistair harshly tugged at her corset, ripping the laces with a single swipe. Just like that the barrier parted, and he was rewarded with the sight of her breasts, perfectly formed and tipped with nipples that had pebbled deliciously. He took a moment to drink her in, savoring the way her flesh moved softly from one curve to the next. When at last he could not stand it he bent his head and took a dusky peak in his mouth, laving the morsel with tongue. Elissa cried out, back arching as her hands fisted the bed sheets, eyes closed against the pleasure. How long he spent paying homage to her chest, she could not say, lost as she was to the sensation of being worshiped so. Only when she thought he would go mad, yearning for more, did she feel his hand snake down her waist, fingers delving beneath her smalls to brush teasingly over her silken folds. She thought she had experienced pleasure, but with the slightest touch Alistair undid her, and she screamed her ecstasy to the rafters. Never once did he let up his tongues ministrations on her nipples, but she felt him chuckle wickedly at her cry, breath hot and gentle against her sweat slicked skin.
Alistair teased her mercilessly, gliding his fingers between her folds, never penetrating, simply exploring, taunting. Elissa's cries became more frantic and her hips thrust upwards to meet his touch, seeking a pleasure she could not name. Just when she thought she could not stand it she felt him slip a single finger into her core and she sighed at the relief, moaning with satisfaction. So smoothly did he glide his hand, adding a second, and at last a third, stretching her center in the most sinful way. She delighted in every second of it, hips rocking back to meet his thrusts, certain that she would never get enough of this carnal pleasure. When he flattened the palm of his hand against her nub, exerting the gentlest of pressure, her world exploded and she thrashed beneath his ministrations, screaming his name in a hoarse voice as her climax rocked her. Alistair never stopped his ministrations, seeking to extend her pleasure until she was mindless with it. He was almost sadistic in his touch, seeking to torment her with every stroke; something about her brought out a feral, and base side of himself, and he was shocked to discover he liked it. Liked hearing his name on her lips, body held captive beneath his as he tore away every layer of her carefully constructed defenses, leaving her nothing more than so very compliant and submissive to his desires. He realized then that every fight, every painful word shared between them had been a vicious sort of foreplay leading to this moment. There was no love in the act, only untamed lust, finally freed to bend them to its will.
When at last Elissa quieted, chest flushed and heaving with the afterglow of her orgasm, Alistair ceased his teasing, hands moving to unlace his breeches. Elissa watched him with pleasure drunk eyes, her pupils dilated with desire, limbs suffused and languid. When at last he was free of clothes, his thick, hardened member drew her gaze, and she swallowed hesitantly; nerves and eager anticipation filling her thoughts. She only hoped that he remembered, nay believed, that she was still a maid, and as such would be gentle, though a part of her screamed for anything but. He crawled up her body, eyes locked with hers, irises flashing predatory and dangerous. He paused to hook his fingers into the band of her smalls, pulling them slowly down her legs until she lay bare before him, wet and glistening with the after effects of her climax. His gaze lingered, eyes tracing her every line of her folds and Elissa writhed beneath the weight of it.
After completing his slow ascent, he paused, the tip of his erection poised at her entrance, the head brushing ever so slightly against her clitoris, making a torment of the waiting. Elissa thought she would be nervous, worried about pain and discomfort, but lying there, pinned beneath the weight of her husband she felt nothing but need, and she had to still herself from thrusting her hips into him, body seeking out a different kind of release.
Without warning he surged inside her, forcing every inch of his length past her virginal barrier and Elissa cried out, a sound mixed with pain and exquisite pleasure. Alistair didn't so much as pause before withdrawing and once again slamming himself into her. With every thrust the pain diminished, and Elissa soon found herself rising to meet his hips, flesh slapping together as they sought to bring each other to completion. Alistair moaned above her, eyes flickering closed as he savored the tightness of her sheath.
"Elissa," he whispered, slamming into her once more, "so tight…so good."
"Yes," she moaned in reply, legs wrapping about his back in an effort to take him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of his hard, throbbing cock. "Yes, yes, yes."
They continued to writhe against one another, breaths gasping out in harmony until it was hard to tell which pant belonged to whom. Elissa could feel herself spiraling towards another climax, delicious warmth spreading from her center to spiral out into the world. She could feel the tension in Alistair's muscles, each movement becoming at once controlled and frenzied. She arched her back, seeking to grind her clit against his pelvis and Alistair roared, unprepared for the sudden tightening of her walls, and he lost all control. He gripped her hips harshly, slamming them against him as he took her rough and fast. Elissa would have protested had she not been swept up in the mind shattering climax, the rough treatment an unexpected pleasure. As her muscles spasmed about his length, so wide and hard, Alistair snapped his hips once, twice, before following her over the edge, his seed bursting from him in hot, thick ropes.
The pair collapsed on the bed, neither capable of forming speech. Had a group of eleven revolutionaries burst into the room, weapons drawn, neither would have been able to move let alone run from the attack, so completely sated were they. Minutes ticked by as they fought to regain control of their breathing. Elissa was first to come back to herself, shock, guilt, and heady satisfaction consuming her thoughts. When she had pictured this day it had been filled with determination and unpleasant acts, a duty she had to see through. Never did she think that she would be consumed with such an over whelming desire to be consumed and possessed. She had utterly abandoned herself to Alistair, and upon remembering the fight that had led to their consummation she felt shame over take her. This was a man who had accused her of infidelity, had spoken of divorce; yet with a few well placed caresses she had forgotten her anger, been driven by her base needs and surrendered to lust as if such hurtful words had never been spoken.
Feeling the sudden need to distance herself from the man beside her, she quickly rolled off the bed, hands reaching for her discarded gown. Clutching the fabric to her chest, wanting every inch of her exposed flesh hidden, she turned back to face her husband. He looked at her, eyes guarded and revealing nothing of what he was thinking. Unable to hide her own emotions, she flicked her gaze to the bed linens, eyes landing on a small smattering of crimson droplets that stained the crisp white.
"There is your 'infidelity,' my lord," she said softly, "I do hope you are not disappointed."
"Elissa-" he murmured, voice rich with a thousand emotions she was not prepared to deal with.
"Burn it," she said hastily, turning away, "or else the servants will talk. You cannot have taken my virtue twice, after all."
When he said nothing she walked steadily to the small bathing chamber attached to their rooms, never once looking back, afraid of what she would see in her husband's eyes. She closed the door softly behind her, heart clenching at the sound of Alistair sighing wearily from the bed, a sound so full of loss and satisfaction that it hurt to hear.