In Love With A Queen
Music playing at party:
Gemma Hayes- Wicked Games
Glass Animals- Exxus
Kodaline- Take Control
Lana Del Rey- Gods & Monsters (Mokadem Remix)
Enjoy the Silence (cover) by Denmark & Winter
Prologue: This little passage takes place a couple months after Mary's unfortunate rape. Her relationship with Francis is rocky and she is unable to be intimate with him, but Prince Condé has managed to break through Mary's barriers, especially on the night of the summer solstice…
~oOo~
It was a warm night in July, and the royal garden was glowing with fireflies and fire lit torches as French nobles mingled along the lush green estate of their king's castle. Lady Kenna and Greer were chatting amongst themselves and enjoying the pleasant party atmosphere, while Queen Mary sat on her throne next to the former Dauphin of France, King Francis II.
All the noble women of court looked so eye fetching in their colorful satin gowns, but Mary's dress was more stunning than any; it was a majestic crimson dress, strapless and tightly corseted around her waist. Her ample bosom attractively drew attention to her swelling breasts, which didn't take away from the glistening ruby gemstones that gloriously dangled across her collarbones. Her soft silken hair hung behind her in dark wavy curls, and a delicate golden crown was carefully fitted atop her head. She was a radiating vision of beauty, embodying femininity, grace, and serenity. Mary was a strong hearted woman, independently fierce, but compassionate and gentle to all that she loved, including her faithful French subjects. She had married Francis with an open heart, and although their marriage had been full of love, it was also full of secrets… secrets that led to the unfortunate tragedy of Mary's rape.
The atrocity of that night had left her traumatized, and although she kept her head held high and determined to move on, Mary was still crippled inside. Months had passed and she was not able to allow her husband to resume a normal and loving intimate relationship with her. King Francis had not bedded his wife in such a long time, and Mary worried that he would soon turn his affections toward Lola. As patient as Francis was, Mary's lack of desire and resentment had been taking its toll on him. The royal pair did their best to keep up appearances, but inside closed doors, their masquerading ceased to continue and they were both miserable.
For the sake of the country, and to fulfill their duties on the throne, Francis and Mary played the part of a united king and queen, but neither of them were happy.
Prince Condé sipped on a goblet of wine as his dark eyes locked onto Mary's; onyx penetrating through mahogany. He held her gaze for as long as he could before she finally looked away from his heated glance.
Mary felt her face burn up, and then she realized that the handsome prince had made her blush. She fanned herself with a floral, oriental fan and was determined not to find Condé's eyes again. He seemed more handsome to her that night than ever before. The raven haired prince wore a dark green tunic, black breeches, and black leather riding boots. A thick gold collar that was encrusted in peridot and emerald was decorated over his broad shoulders. The pendant on this intricate buckle linked collar marked the prestigious insignia of the House of Bourbon. Prince Condé's sword was sheathed and tucked into his belt, hanging below the side of his left hip. His olive complexion was unique and especially attractive. Mary was so used to staring into pale faces, but the first time she had laid eyes on Prince Condé, she immediately realized that his skin was naturally sun kissed which made his dark features strikingly stand out. His facial hair was always neatly trimmed and Mary was convinced that Condé had the most attractively arched eyebrows in all of France.
Enchanting music filled the air, spreading a seductive sorcery over the unsuspecting nobles like floating stardust. Everyone who took a partner to the dance floor was soon falling under a spell of sex and seduction.
Lord Narcisse was smiling darkly at Lola. His mischievous blue eyes cascaded down Lola's white dress. She looked like a fragrant rose just waiting to be cut from its thorny stem. He wore a crimson tunic that night, beige breeches, and dark riding boots. Princess Claude had been flirting with him all evening, and although he was more than willing to fulfill her desires, his eyes always wandered toward the true object of his desire… Lola.
Two masked fire breathers walked around the party in stilts, while four acrobatic ribbon dancers spun around sheets of red silk, entertaining the guests.
Lord Narcisse finished drinking his wine and set it on the table before he made his way to Lady Lola.
Kenna immediately stopped talking when she noticed the notorious nobleman approaching. "Don't look behind you," she mumbled.
Lola looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"
"Lady Lola," said Lord Narcisse. He was standing behind her and greeted her with a cheerful grin as soon as she turned around.
"Lord Narcisse." Lola curtsied politely.
"Forgive my intrusion," he began, "I felt it rude had I not greeted you this evening."
Kenna forced a smile. "Your intrusion is pardoned." Although she was married to Bash, she could not help but feel a subtle attraction toward Narcisse. He was older—not as old as her last lover, but handsome and alluringly dark.
"Have you been enjoying yourself?" Lola asked.
"Hmm… quite. But I must confess, I would much rather enjoy tonight's festivities if you would do me the honor of having one dance with me?"
Kenna smiled as soon as her friend glanced at her, as if she were unsure of how to respond.
"I promise I shall return you to your friend in one piece," he insisted with a persuasive smile.
Just don't abduct me and lock me in a cage, thought Lola, looking grim all of a sudden. "I accept your invitation." She slipped her hand into Narcisse's and let him lead the way.
~oOo~
"You are quiet tonight, Mary."
She turned her head and looked at her husband. "I'm enjoying the party. I like watching everyone dance."
"Will you not partake in such joyous celebration?" Francis hoped his indirect offer would make her rise from her throne, but she sat still as a stone.
"I'm afraid not tonight, Francis. If you would like to dance, please feel free to do so. After all, you are king. You needn't ask my permission." She genuinely meant her words and it pained his heart to hear them.
In a fit of frustration, Francis finally stood up and strode toward one of the noble ladies who had been eyeing him throughout evening and asked her to dance. He was exhausted from trying so hard to warm Mary's heart. All he would get in return was her distant, cold attitude. He desired some warm blooded company that night, not just by his side, but in his bed as well.
Mary has deprived me long enough, thought Francis, dancing with the redheaded lady of his court.
Queen Mary was unaffected by Francis's decision. She had, after all, encouraged him to join the festivities—and despite her poised state, her heart was pulling her elsewhere.
Prince Condé's dark eyes found hers again, and this time, Mary did not look away. Their silent communication spoke a thousand words. She knew that he was in love with her. It seemed like yesterday that Mary had read Prince Condé's love letter…
… I have fallen in love with a queen.
Those words always resonated in her mind every day.
Overcome with a spontaneous spell of melancholy, Mary stood up and started down a torch-lit path that led to the lustrous royal gardens.
Louis noticed her silent escape and abandoned his friends to follow the regal queen.
Her dress caressed the grass as she walked ahead, unaware that Prince Louis of Condé was closely approaching.
"Mary," he called out.
She froze for a moment, and her heart began to palpitate. After calming herself, she turned and smiled when she looked into a pair of gleaming dark eyes. "Condé."
"Forgive me, I … I saw you leaving on your own and …"
"I appreciate your concern." Her voice was warm and her eyes were even more so. Mary could have heated the coldest of hearts with her affectionate gaze. The lingering stares between her and Louis were always so expressive and gentle.
"You should not venture out alone, Mary." He looked genuinely worried. "If you do not desire my company, then at least allow me to command a few guards to follow you before you enter the gardens."
"There are guards stationed at every corner of that massive labyrinth." She sighed and then beamed at the noble prince. "I desire your company, Louis."
He loved the way she addressed him. Their relationship had become very informal, but neither of them were willing to admit the unnoticeable transition.
"Then allow me to accompany you." Louis held out his arm and waited for a very anxious Mary to take it, and then he remembered why she appeared so anxious. "My apologies. I should have …"
"No," she interjected. "I'm fine." Mary smiled. "I trust you." She hooked her arm around his and felt her heart flutter.
Prince Condé was relieved that she found comfort in him. They began to walk at a leisurely pace, enjoying the ambient atmosphere and music. Mary's perfume intoxicated his senses, and he fought to stay sensible enough to hold an appropriate conversation with her. Louis appreciated her intelligence and knowledge of politics.
"I'm happy that you came tonight, Prince Condé. When Francis told me that you were due back to Neva, I was terribly saddened."
"I would never leave you without a proper goodbye, Mary."
They both stole a glance at one another, and Mary felt so guilty inside because of the way the dark prince made her feel.
"Nonetheless," she continued, "you have obligations to fulfil and I understand that, even if you did return without so much as a goodbye, I would not have resented you. It is not in my nature."
"I'm glad to hear. Truthfully, I don't believe I could survive my days knowing that the Queen of France resents me."
Their flirtation was subtle but had its desired effect on both of them. It was moments like this that Louis dared to hope that Mary was capable of returning his amorous affection for her.
They entered the landscaped gardens and began to stroll by a large marble fountain. The sound of the running water was soothing to the ears. Mary looked up at the sky in awe. Millions of twinkling stars sparkled like diamonds above them.
"Am I interrupting a wish?" asked Prince Condé.
"I don't believe I am fortunate enough to have my wishes granted, which is why I have stopped wishing, and instead, I pray before the Lord to hear my humble pleads."
"And does he listen?"
"Not always—but he did tonight." She seemed hesitant to continue, but pushed herself. "I had prayed that we would see each other one last time before you would leave."
He was quiet for a moment, and then he softened his tone and said, "Does my absence sadden you, Mary?"
She wanted to tell him that it saddened her a great deal, that the thought of not seeing him anymore made her die inside. Mary wanted to confess every secret she had been keeping in her damaged soul, only to Louis, not Francis, not Bash … only her chivalrous Prince Condé.
"You have spent so much time with us here at the castle. I truly cherish our friendship, and of course I should be depressed to see you go."
"You are always welcome to visit my side of court, Mary, you know that."
"I know." She nodded with a smile. "Your invitation is generous, but you know that I have a heavy crown to wear just as much as Francis does. It is not easy being queen."
"It never is. But such a title suits you well"—Louis smiled—"my Queen."
A lovely shade of pink spread across her cheeks. Despite her inability to be intimate with Francis, Mary could not deny the way Prince Condé made her gravitate toward him. There was always a magnetic pull that she would constantly have to resist, in fear of doing something regrettably sinful before the eyes of God and her own good conscience.
Louis was aware that she had difficulty letting anyone get close to her. He interpreted their physical contact as something special. "Rest your feet for a while." The prince led her toward the fountain and helped her perch herself up on the marble ledge. Then, he joined her, sitting closely.
Mary twisted her body so that she could dip her hand into the water. Her knees slightly brushed against Condé's, but neither of them said anything, and Mary did not recoil.
Louis was an extremely sexual man with a licentious appetite, but around Mary he was tender, kind, soft spoken, and beyond compassionate. He had so much patience with her. He was a prince in love, reaching for fruit that was eternally forbidden to him. But he could not help himself. Mary absolutely possessed him.
"Where is your mind?" she questioned in curiosity.
He smirked at her. "I cannot decide if you are more radiant in the sun, or more beautiful in the moonlight. If the two were your lovers, I imagine they would be wretchedly jealous. The sun would rise and gaze upon your magnificent beauty, and as it would slowly hide away into the horizon, it would desperately fight its orbit to stay in the sky just a moment longer and steal one last glance of you. It would shine its last few rays of light so that you would remember his presence before your lover of the night would appear and have a turn to gaze upon your angelic face. Such a torturous love triangle, is it not?" Prince Condé smiled wistfully.
Mary was speechless. His romantic expression had taken her breath away. She was unaware of his deeply poetic soul. Finally, the timid queen was brave enough to speak. "Would you be the sun or the moon?"
Louis' stare was penetratingly intense. "I would aspire to be both. I could not bear to share you with another." His eyes darted toward her sultry lips. They were begging to be kissed. Every night he fantasized about locking lips with the Queen of France. "Your beauty is unmatched," he whispered and gently ghosted his hand across her cheek.
Mary did not wince or avert her gaze. She found herself drowning in him, and the strangest thing began to happen … a sweltering heat was spreading between her thighs… her hardened peaks were swelling and protruding through the silky fabric of her gown, and the pulse in her neck was racing. Mary's eyes were drenched with desire, and to see the reflection of passion in Prince Condé's regard only intensified her growing lust. For months she had been the subject of gossip amongst the servants in the castle, saying that the queen was "frigid" and sleeping in separate bedrooms because she was "selfish", but in that instance, she felt a breakthrough transformation. It was proof that she was not frigid or incapable of desire. Louis had been the first and only man she had allowed to touch her since the rape. Their bond was indescribable and unmeasurable.
Prince Condé traced the delicate curve of her jaw with his thumb. "I desire your lips far worse than a dying man who is desperate for a drink of water." He did not mean to confess the words out loud, but they escaped him faster than he could rationalize.
Mary's body was on fire. She felt the only way to find relief was if he pressed his cool lips against hers. The two of them were alone, and the opportunity could not have presented itself at a better time, especially under such romantic circumstances.
"Louis," she breathed his name.
The music suddenly faded into a seductive melody; a songstress singing …
All I ever wanted,
All I ever needed
Is here, in my arms
"Mary …" Her name fled his lips through the faintest whisper as Prince Condé bridged the gap between their faces. He was nervous but unwilling to leave.
Mary's heart was pounding as loud as war drums. She closed her eyes and felt Louis lightly press his mouth against hers.
Pleasures remain.
Words are meaningless…
She blossomed for him, slowly, but surely as he gently coaxed her lips to open for him so that he could taste the forbidden fruit that had teased him for so long.
Louis took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, pouring all the passion in his soul into their kiss, as if it were the last time he would ever kiss the Queen of France again.
Mary moaned for him softly. A tear rolled down her cheek, touching the surface of Condé's hand.
Woken from a spell, he withdrew and searched her misty eyes. "Mary?"
She shook her head, smiling. "Don't stop, Louis." He seemed hesitant to proceed. "Please, don't stop." Mary pulled him into her by the collar and kissed him with more confidence this time, no reservations, no barriers, just pure lust that was igniting the passionate flames of love.
They kissed each other like hungry lovers that had been starved of intimacy. His lips felt so foreign and familiar at the same time. Mary felt as if her heart would explode from the intensity of emotions he was evoking, but she did not fear sudden death. If she were to greet death, then she would have died a happy woman in Prince Condé's arms. He had been her guardian angel all along.
Louis finally pulled back, allowing them both to breathe and recover long enough before he would consume her again in his inferno. "If only your kiss was the kiss of death," he breathlessly admitted.
Mary frowned. "Do not speak of such things." She reached out and caressed his face.
"How can I possibly live, now that I have tasted your sweet, sultry lips? How can I love another, when I have known what it is like to love the greatest woman that God has created? Tell me, Mary, how can I ever be happy when all I will yearn for day and night is you… these lips …" He gently swept his fingers over them. "… these eyes that so passionately stare into mine …"
She was overwhelmed with love for him, a love that she had clandestinely hidden for months. Mary longed for his touch in places that had not been caressed, kissed, or penetrated for such a long time. Francis was her husband and she had denied him of intimacy every time he had initiated. But now more than ever, all she wanted was to surrender her body to Prince Condé, in hopes that he could heal all her wounds from the inside out. She believed he could. Mary always believed in him.
"Tell me to go," said Louis. His face was serious and so was his tone.
Mary blinked back tears. "Do not make such a request of me. I could not bear it."
Their lips collided once more, sliding, gliding, pulling, biting, and devouring each other. Louis rested his hand on the arching curve of her lower spine, cushioning Mary's contact with the marble surface as he lowered her on her back.
A lock of her hair fell into the fountain, but she didn't care. She was possessed by a compelling need to obey her body's impulses. Prince Condé's hand found her ankle, slowly stroking upward and tracing her outer thigh. Neither of them broke the kiss this time. They were equally desperate for so much more than the other could give.
He supported himself over her and carefully shifted his lower body in between her legs when she parted them. The hem of Mary's gown slid upwards, its long train resting on the cobblestones. Her naked thigh was exposed and Louis kept caressing it as they continued to kiss, moan, and sigh.
She could feel his evident arousal pressing against her. He feared that he was crossing too many boundaries, but even a man had raw, carnal needs. Mary had unleashed the sleeping beast.
She pulled away for breath and cupped Louis' face. "Say it again to me." She waited for the slightest sign of comprehension. "I want to hear you say the words you wrote."
His attractive mouth began to curve as he lowered his lips to her neck. "I … [kiss] … fell in love [kiss] …"—Louis licked the creamy globe of flesh that had popped out of her cleavage—"with a queen." He placed a lustful kiss on her other breast before kissing her lips and satisfying his craving.
Her breathing fell short and jagged when she felt him throb against her.
"Mary, we must …"
She looked so fragile beneath him. He vowed to die first before he ever hurt her.
"I know what we must and mustn't do," she said. "Still, I cannot help but want you just the same."
Louis knew what kind of risks they were taking. He was practically violating the Queen of France right there in Francis's royal garden—on French soil. Earlier that evening he had berated his brother for flirting with a married noblewoman, meanwhile here he was, in between Mary's legs, maddened with a sexual desire so strong that he could hardly think clearly.
"Mary, we cannot—I cannot …"
"I know," she whispered, stroking his hair. "At least make me feel what you cannot give me, my love."
Her affection propelled his need to fulfill her as he began to slowly grind himself against her lower body. He could sense her heat and smell her sweet arousal. Neither of them broke eye contact as Prince Condé gently rocked his hips into Mary's, so that she could feel his hardened length stimulating her until she would achieve orgasm.
She prayed that no one would find them there on that fountain, sinfully tangled in each other. Prince Condé did not need to strip her of her virtue to lose his head; kissing Mary was enough to have him arrested for treason, adultery, and God knows what other list of charges. The queen was not exempt of such consequences.
"God …" Mary breathed. "Don't s-stop …"
He was close to exploding in his breeches, but Louis possessed greater control. To watch her lose herself in the pleasure he was giving her was beyond erotic. Prince Condé only wished he could one day take the woman he loved to bed and unleash his undeniable passion for hours. He would not let her sleep until her body was fully exhausted.
She writhed and arched her back, as a delicious pressure began to build in the pit of her stomach. Louis bent his elbow just above her head and let his freehand glide up her inner thigh. Mary gasped when she felt his fingers press against her sex. He began to stimulate her in a slow, massaging motion while kissing her lips and encouraging her to shatter beneath him.
"Come for me …"
Her blood was thrumming in her veins and that pressure continued to build as he quickened the speed of his fingers. Mary was desperate for penetration. She boldly reached down and pulled her lace undergarment to the side. Then, she took Louis' fingers and guided them inside of her. Her eyes widened with newfound pleasure as he plunged his fingers into her, pleased that she was considerably lubricated.
All it took was ten deep strokes and Mary went over the edge, convulsing and contracting on the inside. He felt her speeding orgasm pulsing and squeezing his soaking digits.
Her faithful prince kissed her lips as she came down from the wave of pleasure he had given her. Their intimacy was emotional and sexual, and he was glad that she had not remembered the painful memories of her assault. Prince Condé had killed those bastards with her, and now he had helped her conquer her fear of intimacy.
"God save my sinning soul, I can never get enough of you," he whispered against her lips.
Marry kissed him with everything she had. She did not feel dirty, she did not feel violated. She felt loved and desired. She felt his steel shaft against her inner thigh and as she reached for it, but Louis stopped her. "That is not necessary."
Mary looked troubled. "But … I want to."
He was about to kiss her again when he stopped. "I hear voices."
Cheerful sounds of giggling traveled closer as both royals tried to disentangle themselves from each other and gain their composure. Mary stood up and straightened the wrinkles in her gown, wearing her usual iron mask, while her dashing Prince Condé adjusted himself and splashed cold water on his face.
"There you are!" Kenna beamed, skipping toward her closest friend. "We've been looking all over for you!"
Mary prayed that she didn't look as guilty as she felt. "I was just having a chat with Prince Condé."
He cleared his throat and faced both Greer and Kenna. "Yes, I am to return to my brother's court tomorrow morning, and so there was much to discuss about your queen coming to visit. I trust you charming ladies will accompany her when the time approaches?"
Kenna grinned. "Wherever Mary goes, we follow!—excluding the privy!"
Greer shook her head. "Excuse our friend, she has overindulged on the wine."
"Thus explaining my merriment!"
Louis laughed. "It happens to the best of us."
Greer smiled and turned to Mary. "Francis is looking for you. I think he is worried you are upset."
Mary wrinkled her forehead. "Upset? I am in the best of moods this evening." (And it had everything to do with Prince Condé.) They exchanged secret glances before she said…
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: If you would like more, please review :)