Chapter Four
David stood in the corridor of the royal wing of his palace absentmindedly staring at the door to his queen's chambers. She shouldn't be in that damned dungeon, she should be behind those doors sleeping soundly upon a ridiculously comfortable mattress beneath a warm, feather-down duvet not shivering on a cold slab of iron surrounded by rats.
He inwardly groaned, rubbing his forehead between his thumb and forefinger, knowing it was his fault that she wasn't were she should be - him and his cursed temper. Though her words had undeniably stung -claiming to prefer death or imprisonment over taking him as her husband- he knew deep down that he should have expected as much. How could he possibly expect someone as fragile and delicate as his queen to witness the brutal deaths of her peers to then accept to love the one who'd done in her merciful eyes, such a criminal act?
The king turned away from the queen's chambers that sat opposite his own and strolled purposely down the quiet, dimly lit corridors of his palace, making his way down to the dining hall. The aroma of freshly baked bread, bacon grease and eggs floated from the kitchens as he opened the solid mahogany door to the dining hall, stepping inside to find Dwayne, Marko and Paul huddled at the far side of the pre-set table, deep in a hushed conversation. "Good morning you three whispering gossips, please, don't let little old me interrupt your top-secret conversation," he scoffed, making his way to the head of the table.
"Good morning your majesty-" Dwayne bowed, "-we were just wondering if the queen will be joining us for breakfast?"
"Perhaps she's learnt her lesson sire, I'm sure she just said what she did out of fear," Marko boldly added.
"Anything to add Paul?" David sighed, leaning back in the plush, high-backed chair.
"There's rats down there sire, is it really a place for the queen?"
David knew his friends were right but he was stalling with the inevitable as admittedly he was extremely anxious about seeing Ophelia again. He didn't want to see hatred or contempt in her beautiful emerald green eyes.
Though it may be what he deserved for his actions, he didn't think he could bear it.
When they'd first met, just her warm, unassuming smile had rendered him putty in her hands and it had honestly scared him. He'd been glad of the distraction of his kingdom renowned volatile temper to distract him from the way she made him feel. When he lost control, there was nothing on the earth that could tame the raging fire inside him which meant he didn't have to think about her tears of sorrow, nor did he have to think about the way her emerald eyes glittered with fear. Yet now, now that his mind was clear and his anger nothing but a whisper in the wind, it's all he could think of and the guilt was tying his stomach in painful knots.
"Paul, if you would be so kind as to escort the queen from the dungeons to join us," David ground out, pushing past his hidden fears.
"Do you not think the queen may wish to freshen up beforehand sire?" Dwayne interjected.
"You do insist on taking liberties don't you Dwayne?-" David hissed, "-no, she will eat then you may show her to her chambers. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, your majesty," the trio concurred obediently.
Ophelia lay on her back with her head propped on her backpack, staring at the rocky ceiling, exhaustion rendering her limbs heavy with fatigue. She'd constantly drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the night but every time she'd slipped into the waiting arms of slumber, images of her time in the cave played like a horror movie behind her tear swollen eyelids and she'd jolt awake, her heart hammering wildly.
She pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stave off the headache she could feel building behind her eyes. Unable to fall asleep, she'd spent her time going over the events of the previous night, replaying various scenarios and trying to make sense of whatever she could. The main point that she kept mulling over was the point that Dwayne had made about her being in the situation she was now, being the work of destiny. Ophelia had read many fantasy novels and fairytales in her short life-time and she'd been intrigued by this notion of fate each time she'd come across it in a story. It honestly blew her mind to think that her life could have been written for her already, that everything that had led up to this moment was already pre-ordained to happen and she'd started to recount past events. Grieving her parent's deaths, re-hashing the moment she was told she'd be moving to California to live with her uncle.
Was it all already planned? Was it all just a matter of waiting for the catalyst to set the ball in motion? If it hadn't been her parent's deaths that brought her here, would it have been something else?
Then, once she'd explored the notion of destiny until her chest ached with the beloved memory of her lost parent's, she'd turned her attention to the king himself. Ophelia recalled the story he'd told her about the king's desperate search for his queen; a lonely orphan stuck in a kingdom with only his advisor as a close friend. Leading from that memory, she'd started to explore what Dwayne had told her when he'd brought her to the palace, that being, that David was like he was because of events that had occurred in the past. When she'd eventually linked both the story and Dwayne's comments together, she'd started to gain some understanding.
In the story, David had said that the king had been crowned at the pivotal age of fourteen, for most boys, that was the age they would be going through puberty. Ophelia wasn't sure how vampires developed but if they were anything like humans, he'd have been suffering the impact of raging hormones while at the same time dealing with the grief of losing his parents, with the addition of being crowned ruler of not only a kingdom but the entire Underworld on top of that.
All that must have been very difficult to deal with and she figured he would have had to have developed his own coping mechanisms, he would have had to morph himself from a grieving boy on the cusp of adulthood -according to the Underworld lore- into a competent ruler. Ophelia could in a way, understand his cold, arrogant demeanour for what is was - a way to defend himself, a form of self-preservation.
Following a good hour or so of incessant thoughts and theories, Ophelia was able to see past the kings cruel, callous outward nature and see the possibility that somewhere deep inside, he still had at least a whisper of humanity. Ophelia recalled his narration of the story of the immortal king, remembering how he'd made mention of how he'd longed to experience the love he'd seen between his parents, how he'd yearned to no longer be alone and he'd stressed the desperation behind his search for his queen. If he truly was just a monster in the guise of a handsome man, then surely those ideations wouldn't have even come into play. Surely his only motive for finding his queen would be to fulfil his selfish desires, such as providing an heir to the throne or boosting his status amongst his subjects - it certainly wouldn't be seeking love or to fend off loneliness.
Ophelia sighed, pulling herself upright, much to the protest of her aching body and propped her head in her hand as she stared down at the dirt covered stone floor. Once again, she couldn't help but compare her predicament to that of the hero of the Labyrinth – Sarah. She'd blindly viewed the Goblin King as a cruel creature who stole away her baby brother even though it was she that wished it. Sarah saw the fae king as a tormenter, someone actively trying to hurt her with the many tricks and traps of his sentient maze. Yet, in the end, though she'd beaten him -the first in a long line of humans to do so- he'd offered her, her dreams in return for her love. Yet she'd dismissed him, unable to see the truth that if he hadn't have grown to care for her, she never would have made it to the palace in the first place.
Sarah didn't see Jareth's sacrifices. She didn't see the way he desired her. Ophelia always told herself that she'd accept the Goblin King's offer, that she'd appreciate his sacrifices and now, here she was, with a different kind of immortal king asking her without actively saying the words to do the same and what had she done? She'd declared that she'd rather face death or imprisonment. Nevertheless, the tales of the Labyrinth and its volatile fae king were a work of fiction, her situation was now her reality and she wasn't sure what she should do.
Should she trust Dwayne that the king wasn't truly a monster? Should she succumb to her apparent destiny of royal stature? Should she not beg, plead and scream to be allowed to return to her uncle?
"Joe…" Ophelia whispered, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her sobs. In her shocked state, she'd completely blocked out the fact that if Dwayne had kept his word and went through with his offer, her uncle most likely had no recollection of her whatsoever by now. She truly had nothing or no one. No one was missing her back in Santa Carla, her friendships in England had seemingly fizzled out after her move and all she had left was whomever or whatever roamed these palace walls.
Perhaps she really didn't have a choice in the matter after-all.
"Kieran! How's it going man? How's life in the dungeons?" a chipper voice broke the oppressive silence consuming her and she raised her head towards the gate of the cell, wringing her hands nervously when a familiar mane of wild, dirty blonde hair came into view.
"Quiet-" she heard the guard reply, "-how's life working for his immortal majesty?"
"Ugh – dude, he's so frustrating. I just wanna-" he cut himself off, turning to look at Ophelia with a sheepish smile, "-hug him?" he added hopefully and Ophelia huffed a laugh.
"I wouldn't worry about speaking poorly of the king in front of the queen Paul, her majesty doesn't seem best pleased with him right now. Nor should she be after spending the night in this shit-hole," Kieran countered, unlocking the gate to the cell, the lock turning with a loud clank.
"There's no need to be so formal, please, just call me Ophelia…" Ophelia sighed tiredly, standing on wobbly legs.
"You look exhausted-" Paul scrutinized her appearance with a slight frown, "-didn't get much sleep, huh?"
"No," she shook her head wearily.
"Can't say I blame you, if it ain't the rats keeping you up all night, it's those damn bunks digging into the bones of your ass," Paul grimaced.
"You've spent time down here?" Ophelia asked, surprised.
"More than anyone else in the palace-" Kieran laughed, "-he's got a bad habit of opening his mouth and bullshit spewing out."
"Well, I now feel your pain," she commiserated, wincing when the stiff muscles in her lower back gave a painful twinge.
Paul grabbed her backpack and ushered her out of the cell. "The good news is you'll be able to sleep in a proper bed soon, take a bath, whatever it is you feel like doing…"
"Yeah? What's the bad news?" Ophelia frowned.
"You have to have breakfast with the king first," Paul grinned.
"Good luck," Kieran smirked as she followed Paul up the stone steps.
"Thanks," Ophelia mumbled – perhaps she'd need it.
"Surely this isn't proper? Breakfast with the king in this state?" Ophelia looked up at Paul, gesturing to her grimy clothes and her tear-stained face.
"It was his majesties orders-" Paul offered by way of explanation, "-Dwayne did try and suggest he let you clean up first but no dice," he added with a shrug.
"Tyrant," Ophelia uttered under her breath and Paul snorted a laugh.
They paused outside a set of heavy, mahogany doors, their polished surfaces intricately carved with a refined damask pattern. Ophelia took a second to smooth down her knotted curls, smoothing her top over her hips whilst brushing off any visible dirt she could find. Her stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. Despite her initial fear of David and her disdain for his egotistical actions, she couldn't deny the way her body responded to him, involuntarily or not.
Perhaps it was the fated connection they apparently shared, if Dwayne's word and her half-cocked theories were to be trusted that is?
"Are you ready your majes-" Ophelia cut him off with a hard stare, "-Ophelia?" he smirked.
"As I'll ever be," she sighed, exhaling an uneven breath as Paul moved to push open the doors. Ophelia followed Paul into a rather extravagant dining hall. The walls of the hall much like the rest of the palace, were made of black stone that glittered and shimmered in the warm light of the heavy silver sconces lining them. On two of the walls hung large, weighty tapestries depicting artistically woven Gothic landscapes while the floor was made of grey marble boasting flecks of silver, making the shiny surface sparkle beneath her feet. It sure was a stark contrast to the grime of the dungeons. In the middle of the hall, sat a sprawling rectangular table that seated -if she counted correctly- twenty, its surface draped in a thick, neatly pressed crimson cloth with the place settings made up of gold-plated cutlery, golden chalices and polished crystal glasses, the chair's tucked beneath the table bearing golden frames and plush, crimson velvet cushions.
"Good morning, your majesty," Dwayne's voice startled her out of her awed observations and she glanced up to find him and the curly haired blonde, Marko, greeting her with a low bow.
"Oh, um… good morning," she stammered, nervously brushing her bangs out of her eyes. Her eyes drifted from the two smiling faces to the stony-faced king sitting regally at the head of the table. He was wearing a silk shirt similar to the one he'd worn the previous night, only this one happened to be a lush purple which her libido noted brought out the crystal blue of his eyes. "Thank you for inviting me for breakfast," Ophelia smiled awkwardly, hoping to defuse some of the tension between the two of them. In the many hours that she'd spent alone with only her jumbled thoughts and the scavenging rats for company, she'd pretty much come to terms with the fact that there was no escape for her and she'd managed to convince herself even if it was only in a superficial sense, that this was her destiny. Therefore, she may as well try and evade further nights spent in that decrepit dungeon.
David seemed a little stunned by her statement and the intensity of his gaze softened ever-so slightly. "I couldn't leave the queen to starve now, could I?" he replied dismissively and Ophelia didn't miss the exasperated eyeroll Dwayne gave the king over the back of his head. She quickly looked away before her smirk of amusement had her tossed back in a cell and followed Paul over to the table, pulling out the chair that sat on David's left side, motioning for her to sit. Ophelia anxiously took her seat, smiling gratefully at Paul when he chivalrously tucked in her chair beneath her while Dwayne took the seat beside her with both Paul and Marko sat on the opposite side of the table on David's right.
"Laurent," David barked, causing Ophelia to flinch from the unexpected boom of his commanding voice.
"He's just calling the server," Dwayne assured her with an understanding smile that Ophelia returned, the tension in her shoulders alleviating slightly.
The sound of a door creaking open caught her attention and she turned to see a dark-skinned male pushing a cart laden with food through a small door hidden in the far corner of the room. The male had the same deep, blood-red eyes of the guard and she wondered whether all those who served in the castle were vampires and why was it that their eyes were red? Her musings were abruptly interrupted when the heavenly aroma of rich, nutty coffee wafted up her nose, followed by the stomach-rumbling smell of bacon, eggs and freshly baked bread. Ophelia hadn't realised how hungry she was until she'd been presented with such tantalizing offerings. Laurent placed a plate laden with fluffy scrambled eggs and crisp rashers of bacon in front of her before setting a small bowl of fruit salad alongside it. The server placed the same offerings before the others and added a basket of freshly baked bread and a steaming urn of coffee to the middle of the table alongside a dish of butter, a pot of honey and a platter of soft cheese.
Ophelia was completely ravenous and had to try extremely hard to restrain herself from demolishing her food like a starved animal. Eating like a pig wouldn't be the best impression to give the king now, would it?
"Coffee?" Dwayne offered politely.
Ophelia swallowed the mouthful of bacon and eggs she was in the process of chewing. "Please."
Dwayne poured her a cup of the rich, fragrant coffee, adding a splash of steamed milk and one lump of sugar per her request. She took a tentative sip and couldn't stifle her hum of pleasure. It was the best coffee she'd ever tasted.
"Someone send notice to the Elves - their magic beans make the queen moan with pleasure," Paul grinned causing Marko to choke on a mouthful of bread. Out of the corner of her eye, Ophelia saw the king reach for his fork and something told her that he was about to launch it straight at Paul's head. Without thinking, she quickly placed her hand on his, momentarily relishing in its warmth before she gave it a gentle squeeze. David looked temporarily stunned, his crystal blue eyes staring at her with such intensity that her skin felt as though it was on fire.
"I know what you plan to do and I ask that you don't, he was just making a joke – it wasn't offensive," she murmured anxiously, awkwardly removing her hand from his.
"As you wish," David mumbled, casting his eyes down to his plate. Paul glanced between Ophelia and the king wearing an expression of disbelief. He obviously thought that fork was going to end up embedded in his scalp as much as she did.
"Try the bread with some cheese and honey, I think you'll find it pairs well with the coffee," Dwayne spoke up, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the table as he placed a hunk of bread on her now empty plate. She smiled gratefully, reaching for the pot of honey that was unfortunately just out of reach. David slid the pot into her outstretched hand before concentrating awfully hard on a buttering his own chunk of bread.
"Thank you, my liege," Ophelia smirked; her comment followed by muffled laughter. It was strange how she'd gone from total despair, fear and outrage, to feeling somewhat calm and content. She was sure it was most likely that she'd become deranged with exhaustion but there was something about David's reaction to her presence that she found sweet and endearing. Yes, call in the men in white coats, she'd most definitely gone insane.
"Why do you eat together?" Ophelia quizzed, taking another sip of coffee. She was on her second cup of the heavenly beverage. "I mean, I thought royalty didn't fraternize with their subordinates?"
Dwayne, Marko and Paul all looked at one another with an air of unease, their gaze drifting to the king who looked down at her with his eyebrow quirked curiously. Ophelia had a feeling that the question wasn't one with a simple answer and she wished she could take it back, cursing her inquisitive nature. "Would you prefer they leave your highness?" David spoke coolly, feigning interest in the back of his hand.
"Of course not, I didn't mean it in that way…" she frowned, only to then realise that he was likely deflecting from having to give an honest answer. "It doesn't matter, forget I asked."
"I already did," David retorted pompously, rising from his seat. "You may escort the queen to her chambers once she's finished," he stated before disappearing out of the hall.
"Something I said?" Ophelia glanced at the remaining occupants of the table.
"It's always something someone said," Marko chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"…and this, is your chambers-" Dwayne smiled down at her, gesturing to another set of mahogany doors adorned with the calligraphic carving of the letter 'Q'. "-the kings chambers are opposite," he added, pointing to the doors on the other side of the corridor adorned with the letter 'K' in a similar style. Ophelia couldn't help but feel relieved that she wouldn't be forced to share a bed with the volatile king, it was reassuring to know that she had her own personal space to escape to or perhaps barricade herself in.
Dwayne twisted the brass handle of the door, ushering her inside and Ophelia instantly gasped, awestruck as she took in the sight before her. "This is all for me?" she shook her head in disbelief.
"Of course-" Dwayne chuckled, "-feel free to take a look around."
Heeding his prompt, Ophelia padded deeper into the room. She couldn't stop staring, the place was huge. On first entering the room, you found yourself in a sitting room of sorts with the walls the same familiar black stone as the rest of the palace, complete with a varnished mahogany floor and a black and gold marbled fireplace. The fireplace was surrounded by two indigo-blue wing-back chairs and a plush, crushed velvet couch in the same rich, indigo-blue. In front of the fireplace lay a luxurious, damask patterned rug, its decorative weaving in hues of vivid eggplant and gold. Resting against the back wall was a solid, ebony bookcase stuffed with leather-bound tomes and pristine paperbacks while alongside it, sat a drinks cart stocked with decanters brimming with a deep crimson liquid, a cherry red liquid and a rich amber liquid, none of which she could identify from sight alone.
Ophelia padded through the archway in the centre of the room and found herself standing in a lavish bedroom. The room was comprised of the same black stone and mahogany floors only this time, the walls were decorated with weighty tapestries; one depicting a serene sunset and the other, a mezze of colourful flowers. A sprawling four-poster bed sat in the centre of the room, resting against the far wall, its posts draped with rich purple voile curtains, the canopy the same rich purple. The bedsheets looked to be silk, the colour the same indigo-blue as the chairs and couch in the sitting room. Beside the bed sat identical mahogany cabinets, one decorated with a vase of red roses and the other with a vase of violets. A chest of drawers sat on one side of the room with a huge closet built into the other. A mahogany, French vanity sat opposite the bed sporting a tri-fold mirror with various knick-knacks placed neatly on its varnished surface, the stool the same mahogany wood with a crimson padded cushion on the seat.
"Woah…" Ophelia gawped, truly speechless.
"You missed something," Dwayne smirked, pointing to a door that she hadn't noticed in the corner of the room.
"There's more?" Ophelia's eyes widened.
"See for yourself," he chuckled, clearly amused by her childish wonder. Ophelia trotted over to the door and pulled it open, squealing in girlish delight at what she found inside. The bathroom was floor to ceiling black marble with glittering gold speckles imbedded in the opulent stone. Above a marble counter hung a heavy, antique mirror positioned between two golden sconces. In the furthest corner from the door was a large, waterfall shower and in the middle of the room, carved into the floor itself was a humongous roman-style bath. On the wall behind the bath were shelves stocked with various soaps, oils and fluffy Egyptian cotton towels. Ophelia breathed in deeply, exhaling with a content sigh, the fragrant perfume of sweet violets lingering pleasantly in the air.
In a state of incredulity, Ophelia returned to the sitting room to find Dwayne standing beside a woman she'd not seen before, in fact she was the first female she'd come across at the palace so far. The woman was slight of build, with a waterfall of liquid rose-gold hair that flowed effortlessly over her narrow shoulders, coming to rest by her slender waist. Her facial features were sharp yet elegantly beautiful with her eyes a soft lilac, framed by long, rose-gold lashes. "Your majesty," the woman curtsied, her silken hair billowing over her face.
"Ophelia, this is Ellie, she's been assigned as your lady in waiting. Anything you may need you just need to ask her. She's going to be taking your measurements now in order to fit you with a new wardrobe and after that, if you want to sleep you may dismiss her of her duties," Dwayne gave her a final warm smile before excusing himself on a low bow, clicking the door closed behind him.
"You're not one of them, are you?" Ophelia mused aloud, regarding her new lady in waiting with intrigue. There was something familiar about her, something about her was triggering a buried memory, most likely of something she'd previously stumbled on in a book. Her eyes widened when out of the blue, Ophelia experienced the fabled lightbulb moment, realising why the woman was so familiar. "You're fae, aren't you?" she blurted.
Ellie looked slightly taken aback by her statement, her lilac eyes widening. "You know of the fae?"
"Oh… I'm not exactly an expert but I um… I read – a lot and I've read a lot of stories about your kind," Ophelia blushed, feeling more than a little embarrassed about her outburst.
"Well, there are such a lot of stories, not all of them true mind-" Ellie smiled, "-if I may be so bold as to ask, what's your favourite story?"
"The Labyrinth, you know, the one with the Goblin King?"
"Ah, how the Goblin King hates that story, I hear they made a movie from it also?" Ellie let out a dainty, tinkling laugh.
"Wait, the Goblin King is real?" Ophelia gawped.
"Of course your majesty, though I wouldn't say that his personality matches that of the story."
"Wow-" Ophelia exhaled slowly, "-can I ask why you're here in this particular kingdom, if you're fae and not a vampire?"
"I was chosen as a concubine to the palace a millennia ago, however it would seem I've gotten a promotion," Ellie beamed.
"Concubine? Does that mean you've consorted with the king?" Ophelia probed, feeling an unexpected surge of jealousy. Why did she care whether this woman had slept with the king?
Because he's mine… her inner voice caterwauled.
Yes, insanity had definitely gotten a hold on her.
"Oh, no, your highness. The king rarely indulges in the delights of the palace harem and when he does, it's all very cold and there are strict rules in place."
"What kind of rules?" she continued her interrogation.
Ellie pressed a slender, ringed finger to her lips. "If I remember correctly, the king prohibits any of the women from kissing him. They must only touch him with his express permission and the intercourse must always be from behind. He doesn't care to look at us, I do believe we are just used when he can no longer bare his urges."
Ophelia's stomach dropped. Would this be how he would act with her? "Do you know why he has these rules?"
"It has been rumoured that he has stated that only his queen may have the pleasure of his lips or his willing touch."
"Oh…" she murmured, chewing her bottom lip.
So, he'd been saving himself? Interesting…
"Anyway, I feel I've interrogated you enough for now. Dwayne said something about measuring me for clothes?"
"Yes, your majesty," Ellie smiled, conjuring a measuring tape out of thin air.
Perhaps having a lady in waiting wasn't going to be so bad after all… Ophelia mused, enthralled by the measuring tape levitating between the two of them.
"Right, please take off your clothes your highness."
OK, maybe she spoke too soon…
The nib of his fountain pen glided effortlessly over the parchment paper, the black ink coiling and swirling in the king's practiced, impeccably neat cursive. The only sound in the king's study was the repetitive scratch of the pens nib against parchment and the rhythmic ticking of the clock. David signed the renewed contract with the Elven Kingdom to export their admittedly world-class coffee to his kingdom before neatly folding it and slipping it into a waiting envelope. He dripped wax over the lid of the envelope and stamped it with his signature seal, setting it on top of the pile of paperwork he'd already approved, denied, ignored or ordered and exhaled a heavy sigh. He leant back in his chair, running his fingers through his tousled platinum blonde hair, his mind wandering to his new favourite topic of contemplation. He hadn't seen Ophelia since breakfast but he knew she was fine as he'd asked her newly appointed lady in waiting for news and Ellie had dutifully informed him that his queen had seemed rather comfortable in her chambers, had complied with all requests and was currently taking a bath.
David allowed himself a hopeful smile, it was more than he could have asked for that she seemed so comfortable in his palace and that she'd seemed so open with him earlier. She'd even touched him which had been very unexpected - even if it was to stop him from embedding a fork in Paul's skull. Still, he just had to ruin everything by acting like a petulant child when she'd asked a question that he didn't feel comfortable answering. He could have just simply stated that he didn't wish to answer such a question at that moment in time but instead, he'd thrown a tantrum and walked out. Which now left him wondering whether he should invite her to eat dinner with him or whether he should allow her to eat in her chambers to give her a break from his nonsense.
Just when he started to give himself a blinding headache from overthinking, a loud knock sounded on the door to his study. "Enter," he instructed.
"Good evening, sire-" Dwayne bowed, clicking the door closed behind him before strolling over to the desk, "-been keeping yourself busy, I see?"
"I do have a kingdom to run, you know," David smirked, folding his hands in his lap. "What can I do for you brother?"
"Laurent is requesting a number for dinner - will the queen be joining us? She took lunch in her room with Kaylin but perhaps she'd like the choice to dine with the rest of us tonight?"
"Do you think she'll really want to after my priggish behaviour this morning?"
"Yes, and I think you should be the one to ask her," Dwayne grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Have you lost your mind?" David scoffed.
"No-" Dwayne countered, "-if she is to be your future wife then you need to start treating her as such."
David sighed, knowing his best friend was right. However just because something was right, didn't mean that it was easy. He was aware that since the day he lost his parents and had to take over the ruling of the kingdom and the entire damn Underworld that he'd changed. He'd become a tyrant. He'd grown cold and arrogant and had a tendency to push away anyone that cared, including his best friend Dwayne. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd thrown Dwayne in the dungeon or beaten ten shades of piss out of him just because he'd touched a nerve or dared to care when no one else would, especially in his first few decades of monarchy.
He didn't want to be that way with Ophelia, he actually wanted her to force her way, kicking and screaming through the defensive walls he'd built around him. It might be a steel fortress right now but he knew she had the ability to bend and break him until it was nothing more than a flimsy pillow forte. He was apprehensive and admittedly terrified that she'd break his heart but if he didn't take the risk, he knew he'd live to regret it. He didn't want to end up like so many other royals who barely tolerated their spouses. He wanted to have the love he saw between his mother and father, the love that had gotten them killed by those who envied what they shared. He supposed asking her to join him for dinner could be the catalyst they needed to start their courtship; he had to stop hiding behind excuses and fear.
"Fine, I'll ask her."
Dwayne grinned triumphantly. "Excellent."
"Was there anything else?" David inquired, loosening the top buttons on his shirt.
"No sire, that was all."
"Alright. Please, take these to be posted to the corresponding kingdoms, I'm going to retire to my chambers and yes, I'll ask Ophelia to dinner on my way," David rolled his eyes, earning a knowing smile.
David once again found himself standing outside the queen's chambers. He couldn't hear any movement inside but he knew she was in there this time, he could scent the alluring fragrance of her blood. His queen's perfume was akin to the sweetest maraschino cherries and it was enough to make his mouth water. Inhaling a nerve calming breath, he raised his hand and rapped lightly on the door. He could just walk in if he wished, he was the king after all, but he decided that perhaps that wasn't such a wise idea at this point in their relationship. He wanted her to feel safe, he wanted her to know that she had her own privacy that not even he would breach if she didn't permit him to do so. "Come in," he heard her melodious voice call out and with a nervous lurch of his stomach, he entered the room.
David stepped into the room to find Ophelia curled up on one end of the couch in the sitting room, her damp chocolate brown curls gathered in a messy bun atop her head wearing the same outfit she'd worn the previous night and again that morning, only it was noticeably cleaner. Ophelia glanced up from the book she was reading, her cheeks flushing a rather appealing shade of pink when she saw that it was him. "Oh… hi um…" she seemed to be fumbling for the correct way to greet him and after a few seconds of awkward stammering she blew out a frustrated breath, fixing him with a bashful smile. "I'm sorry, what should I call you? I'm not sure how this works between kings and queens, not in reality anyway… not that I'm referring to myself as queen…" she flustered.
David stifled his amusement. "When we're alone or with those beneath our status you may call me David-" he replied, "-I mean, I'd prefer you to call me David when we're alone," he quickly amended, hoping he saved himself from sounding pretentious.
"And in front of others who are of similar status?"
"Then any royal title will suffice," he smiled awkwardly.
"OK, got it," she smiled warmly, melting the icy cage around his heart.
"I hope your room is to your liking?" he inquired, finding the confidence to draw a little nearer to where she still sat huddled on the couch.
"Honestly, I'm still in awe," she laughed, the sound like the sweetest ode to his ears.
"I'm glad," he stated, sincerely before clearing his throat. "I came here to ask if you would like to join me… well us… for dinner?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his back in order to stop himself from fidgeting and giving away how nervous he felt.
"I have two conditions you must adhere to if I am to accept," Ophelia offered with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her charmingly accented voice articulated in a prim and proper fashion.
"And they would be?"
"One, you don't lodge a fork in anyone's skull who just so happens to piss you off and two, you don't walk out when I ask a question you don't feel comfortable answering."
David couldn't help himself, the situation was too amusing to hold back his laughter and he barked a laugh. Hours ago she'd been terrified of him, terrified, declaring death to be a more fitting trade than a lifetime with him and now, here she was, as bold as brass ordering him, the king, to cow to her demands if he wanted her to accept his invitation. It was absurd yet beguiling and rather than feeling irritated or ill-tempered, he experienced a strange sensation of warmth in his chest and for the first time in a long time, he genuinely smiled - not a fake smile, not a smug smirk or a sly curl of his lip but a genuine grin. "I submit to your demands my queen," he exclaimed, enjoying the rosy, pink glow of her cheeks.
"Very well," she cleared her throat, shuffling nervously in her seat.
"Ellie will come and escort you to the dining hall when dinner is ready. Do you have any further demands for me or am I to leave?" David couldn't resist teasing her.
"No further demands but I do have a question?" Ophelia replied timidly.
"Yes?"
"What's in those decanters?" she pointed to the drinks tray beside the bookcase.
"Ah, well… the deepest crimson liquid I should remove for that my queen, is blood and right now, you have no need for it. The lighter, cherry coloured liquid on the other hand is Elven wine. I think you might like it, it's very sweet and a little floral - a little too girly for my tastes in all honesty. The amber liquid is mead imported from the Dwarf Kingdom - now I advise you to be careful with that, it will have you blathered in no time at all."
"Interesting-" Ophelia smiled, "-OK, you've served your purpose, you may abscond, your majesty," she chirped cheekily, burying her nose back in her book. David barked another rumbling laugh, pilfering the decanter of blood on his way out before taking one last look at the impish beauty in all her child-like innocence, wondering how in the world he got so lucky.
"Are you serious right now?" Ophelia gesticulated towards her miraculously fully-stocked closet brimming with dresses made with the most luxurious fabric and in a multitude of rich, decadent colours. "How did they do all this so quickly, you literally took my measurements a few hours ago?" she pondered aloud, padding over to the bulky chest of drawers to find it packed with lingerie and night gowns.
"The seamstresses are of the fae my lady, they use magic - could you imagine a human doing this work? It would take weeks if not months."
"Or you know, the king could just send someone to the market and buy the clothes rather than having them handmade," Ophelia countered with a shrug.
Ellie gasped like Ophelia had said something extremely offensive. "Oh no your highness, the monarchy cannot possibly wear the clothes of peasants."
"I've not been crowned queen yet. The king and I haven't really spoken more than a few words to one another, therefore, I'm still very much a peasant as you say, so please just call me Ophelia."
"Do not speak so lowly of yourself my lady, you are the future queen and shall be treated as such. Now, should we pick a dress for dinner?"
Ophelia decided it was probably wise to drop the argument and admit defeat. Let's face it, Ellie was fae and could easily magically zip her mouth closed or something and she wasn't so sure how she'd feel about that.
Ophelia followed Ellie over to the closet, her eyes drifting over the array of dresses with newly sparked interest. "What about that one?" she pointed to a dark crimson crushed velvet gown.
"As you wish my lady," Ellie smiled, picking out the dress and laid it out on the bed. "First, let me do something with your hair, forgive me your majesty but at present, it's more akin to a bird's nest."
Ophelia snorted a laugh. "I like you Ellie," she smiled. Ophelia had an inkling that perhaps the queen forming friendships with her staff was frowned upon, but she felt a kindred connection with the pretty fae, and it would be nice to have friends, as despite her acceptance of her situation, she did feel a little lonely.
Ellie's pale complexion flushed a faint pink and her thin lips turned up in a beaming smile. "I'm growing rather fond of you too my lady, I'm happy that the king has been fated with one such as yourself to be his queen. He needs someone like you, it would be hell on earth if his queen was destined to be someone equally as cold and pretentious."
"Are you speaking ill of the king, Ellie?" Ophelia smirked, noting Ellie's eyes widen in the reflection of the mirror.
"Do forgive me my lady, I did not-" Ellie flustered, and Ophelia giggled, biting her lip in amusement.
"-Relax Ellie, I was just joking."
"Oh, you are a cruel mistress your majesty," Ellie tittered, shaking her head in amusement with an impish smile as she begun to comb through Ophelia's untamed curls.
Ophelia stared at herself in the mirror, unable to believe that it was her own reflection staring back at her. Ellie had pinned her hair up into a high bun, leaving a lock of curls to fall either side of her face, sweeping her bangs to the side before lightly powdering her face, concealing the evidence of her exhaustion. The dress she'd picked out was form-fitting and clung to her curves, draping perfectly over her hips. The crushed velvet fabric felt luxurious against her skin and the colour seemed to contrast well with the vivid green of her eyes. The bodice of the dress was adorned with swirling gold-thread with a heart-shaped neckline that showed just a glimpse of cleavage, while the skirt fell to the middle of her shin. Ellie had picked out a pair of black suede pumps decorated with a gold buckle for her to pair with the dress and Ophelia was grateful that she hadn't picked anything with a heel for Ophelia knew she'd end up walking around like a new-born Giraffe, stumbling over her own feet and most likely ending up unceremoniously on her backside.
"Now do you feel more like a queen?" Ellie smiled, smoothing the skirt of her dress over her thighs.
"I don't know, it doesn't even look like me. Where did the dorky, book-worm go?" Ophelia laughed, twisting her body in the mirror to check-out the back of her dress.
"She's still in here-" Ellie placed a dainty hand over Ophelia's heart, "-she just had a little make-over that's all - being queen doesn't mean you have to change who you are your highness."
"But everything has changed…" Ophelia whispered, feeling unanticipated tears flood her eyes.
"Your majesty, please don't get upset. I'm aware that this is hard for you, it was hard for me too when I first left home, everything was new and scary. But you'll become accustomed to everything with time, I'm sure of it."
"But you came from this world - albeit a different kingdom but still… I'm human, I don't have a clue what I'm doing, and everything is just completely overwhelming. What am I going to do when the time comes that I have to become like the others in this kingdom? I can't stay human forever, that much is obvious but at the same time, I don't want to become a murderer either…" she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief Kaylin produced.
"Would her majesty permit me to perhaps embrace her?" Ellie murmured shyly.
"Please do," Ophelia nodded, clinging to the fae like she was an anchor, taking comfort in the gesture in order to keep herself grounded.
"Just take one day at a time my lady, that's all that I can suggest and if there comes a time that you feel overwhelmed then you can speak to me, or Dwayne, he's a good listener. Paul and Marko, well you'd most likely scare them away if you started crying," she laughed softly.
"Thanks Ellie, I'm sorry I ruined your hard-work," Ophelia exhaled a shaky breath, wiping her swollen eyes.
"It's not a problem Ophelia," Ellie smiled, setting her off all over again.
David drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, his eyes anxiously drifting to the hall doors. He was starting to worry that she'd changed her mind, he'd given Ellie a specific time and as of now, she was officially late. He was about to metaphorically kick himself for being so foolish as to think that tonight could be the trigger that set their future in motion, that his gesture of asking her to dinner himself had been enough when the hall door swung open and Ellie bustled into the room followed by Ophelia.
David was temporarily stunned by Ophelia's graceful entrance, she looked absolutely magnificent in the body-hugging dress she wore, the deep crimson colour bringing out the vibrant emerald green of her eyes and he made a mental note to give the seamstresses a raise. Ellie gave Ophelia a brief smile before disappearing back through the doors, leaving Ophelia standing awkwardly just inside the room. "Good evening your majesty," Dwayne broke the clumsy silence that encompassed them, greeting her with a bow.
"Hot child in the city," Paul chirped only for Marko to punch his arm in warning when David glared at him with irritation.
"Running wild and looking pretty-" Ophelia sing-songed, "-I'm sorry I'm late…"
"It's a Queen's prerogative to make an entrance," Dwayne smiled, leading her to the table.
"And make an entrance she did," Paul wolf-whistled while Marko buried his face in his hands, hiding his laughter.
"Paul!-" David barked angrily, "-you forget your place and your manners, perhaps you need to spend another night in the dungeon to revise not only etiquette but common damn sense," he hissed.
Paul groaned and slumped down into his seat, pouting like a chastised child. David turned his attention back to Ophelia, his eyes roaming the soft curve of her waist accentuated by her dress with appraisal.
'Tell her how beautiful she looks,' Dwayne urged, his persuasive voice resounding in David's mind.
David swallowed, fiddling with the cuff-links of his shirt. "That dress is most becoming on you Ophelia…" he exclaimed with more confidence than he felt.
"Thank you," Ophelia smiled coyly, smoothing her hand over her thighs as the same alluringly rosy blush as earlier spread across her cheeks.
"So, your majesty-" Marko started.
"-Please, call me Ophelia," Ophelia implored.
Marko shot the king a wary glance, obviously unsure how he should proceed. "When there is no one else present bar the three of you, you may address the queen as she requests. However, in front of anyone outside of one another, you address her with her royal title. Any breach in this rule will force me to rescind it, am I clear?" David eyed his three friends, noticing the small smile that lit up his queens, soft, pretty features.
"Yes sire," the trio nodded as one.
"Thank you, David?" her response came across as more of a question than a statement and he gathered that she was making sure she wasn't breaking any rules. David nodded with a small smile, wordlessly reassuring her that he didn't mind her using his name in front of his friends, resulting in another glowing smile.
"So, Ophelia-" Marko relaxed in his seat, "-what brought you to Santa Carla all the way from England?"
Dwayne chuckled when Ophelia flinched, her expression one of bewilderment. "Your accent, it's very British…" he smiled, clarifying the reason Marko would know such a personal detail and the plump, seductively shaped cherry red lips framing her mouth formed a silent 'oh'.
David observed the way her eyes seemed to lose their sparkle and instead, adopted a dull glaze. "You don't have to answer if you do not wish to," David assured her, wanting to do anything to erase that desolate look in her eyes.
"No, it… it's OK-" she shuffled in her seat, "-I moved to Santa Carla to live with my uncle Joe, he owned the diner that we um… that we met in…"
"Why?" Paul probed curiously, spearing a chunk of pink meat with his fork.
"Just over a month ago, my parents died… they were on their way home from a friend's house when their car was hit by a drunk driver and with no other family willing to take on a seventeen-year-old orphan, and not being old enough to be free of legal guardianship, I had no choice but to move to California."
Taken aback by her admission, David temporarily lost control of his motor skills and the fork he was holding slipped from between his fingers, clanging deafeningly onto his plate. Due to the silence of the room, the noise seemed harsher and louder than it would have, had the conversation still been going, but Ophelia's exclamation seemed to have rendered everyone mute. He couldn't believe that they shared such a tragic loss, both of them losing their parents in horrific ways.
"I'm sorry you've had to go through that," Dwayne sympathised, ever the bleeding heart. Ophelia only nodded in acknowledgment and pushed her food around her plate, her eyes trained on the tablecloth.
David wanted to say something, anything to ease her hurt but he knew there were no words strong enough to take away the anguish of losing the ones you love. He had first-hand experience with such pain after all.
"You know, I'm not feeling very hungry, may I be excused?" Ophelia uttered, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
"Of course," David frowned, cursing his emotional retardation, he had no idea how he should comfort her, he only knew that he had the overwhelming desire to do so. "Do you need an escort?" he inquired, knowing he should take it upon himself to take her back to her room but he couldn't find the confidence to go through with it.
"Please…" she sniffled, his chest aching at the sight of her tears.
"Allow me," Dwayne offered, rising to his feet before following her out of the hall.
"Shit," Paul sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"Fate sure plucked the perfect peach from the orchard for you, didn't it sire?" Marko smiled sadly.
"Hmmm…" David sighed distractedly, combing his fingers through his hair.