Chapter 28
The evening was drawing on nicely. The sky had turned a beautiful, warm burnt orange. The maids had stacked and tended to the fireplace, so there wasn't a chill even though Marie was sat wearing barely anything at all, just a slip of a nightgown that she'd worn once, in her younger days, when she'd still thought that the murderous, hateful pig she had married might stop putting his manhood into other women if she was alluring enough.
After tonight, he'd never be putting that disease-addled twig in anything ever again. She might even keep it on display, as a warning to other miserable wretches who betrayed their wives, hurt their sons for their own pride and murdered their daughters-in-law and their unborn grandchildren!
The bastard would be there at any moment, and she was ready and waiting. He wasn't leaving with his life, and Marie didn't care what would happen to her in return. Not when her son was in pieces, her daughter-in-law was cold in the ground somewhere they'd never find her and the baby...oh dear God, the baby...!
The thought would've sent tears straight to her eyes, had she not had to force them back, while her heart held itself together at the sinews. She couldn't let that fucking blackguard know that anything was wrong – he'd be suspicious enough of the two glasses of wine she'd poured.
But Joseph, as much as he liked to think it, was not smarter than Marie. And that was why she had drugged the glass that she wouldn't offer him.
It was amazing, the things one could find when they went to the right combination of doctors, chemists and opium dens. Just the right dosage would make him nice and pliable. Relaxed, even.
It didn't mean he wouldn't feel a thing. At least, Marie hoped it didn't. She wanted him to feel everything that C.C. would've felt when he was having her killed – she wanted him to die alone, in agony, and humiliated.
She wanted him to know it was the end, and that there wasn't a single thing he could do to stop it from happening.
She wanted him to die terrified.
She soon had to pin that ever-so fake sultry smile back to her lips as there came a knock at the door. Joseph would never know the difference – men never did, especially when they thought they would get something out of it.
She called out in a manner that suggested she was almost already in the throes of passion.
"Eet's always open for you...!"
And, like the fool he was, thinking only with the disgusting thing he kept between his legs, Joseph walked in. He immediately started to smile when he saw how the room looked. A sunset, a fire, the wine already poured...
His wife looked even better though, there on the chaise lounge, wearing practically nothing and spread eagled as though she was begging him to enter her right that very second. She had to be gagging for it, after not having had a man for so long – it wasn't as though any other man could touch her, even if they wanted to. She belonged to him to the point where he should've been making her wear a collar by now.
He should've added it as part of their agreement. After tonight, he would demand it, as well as a list of other things that he wanted her to do for him. She'd probably gone for all the personal touches, as well – trying to add a little romance and feeling to the atmosphere.
Not that Joseph cared one whit for either of those things. It amused him a little, nothing beyond that. He was too busy taking in the milky white skin of her thighs, the curve of her hips, the shape of her breasts – he'd enjoy those in a moment, to get himself started...not that he couldn't feel his pride and joy starting the whole process just thinking about it...
It was like being at a banquet, where he could help himself to all the most delectable parts, and no one could stop him. His smile curled upwards into a grin as he came in, shutting and locking the door behind him.
"It's late, but I do hope you haven't been starting without me. I'd hate to find that you'd worn yourself out before I got my fair share."
Marie laughed, flashing that charming smile of hers and getting to her feet.
"You know I'd never," she said teasingly and picked their wine glasses up. "I must say, 'owever, I did start up on zhe wine wizhout you…"
Smiling still, she offered the glass that had more liquor. She couldn't help but congratulate herself on what a good job she'd done with the glasses. The one that supposedly belonged to her, was half-empty and she'd smudged the rim with lipstick – it looked absolutely natural, and just like she'd known Joseph would do, he didn't take his own, preferring to take "hers" instead.
"I'll take this one, thank you," he said and sipped at his cup.
Marie had to make an effort not to laugh in his face. For all his boasting about what a fine specimen he was, he was so incredibly stupid. Had she not hated his guts, she'd have pitied him – it was, after all, like taking candy from a baby.
"Looks like you want to get me drunk," she said and sipped at her wine, pretending not to have picked up on Joseph's real motive behind the swap. She knew playing dumb would get her exactly where she wanted to be.
"Oh, no, my darling," the king crooned, finishing the last of his wine and then taking and downing the one in Marie's cup. "I want you sober – sober and present in the moment, so you can tell me just how much you like it when I fuck you."
Marie felt her stomach churn, but she didn't let her face give it away. She might have been repulsed by every word, but she knew he would pick up on even the slightest change in her expression or mood. She wouldn't let a single thing spoil her plan. Not when it was all going so perfectly, and she was so close to finishing it all...
She didn't know what would happen afterwards, but she was beyond the point of caring. She'd finally resolved to do what she should've done years ago, and she wasn't about to back out. Not when it had come too late for the love of her son's life, and the child she had been carrying. She was putting an end to the suffering and misery Joseph caused, simply with his very existence!
So, she let her grin go wider, pretending to enjoy being called a slut and wanting his pathetic waste of manhood inside her. The thought of it on a velvet pillow, minus the rest of him, on a pedestal in a cloister somewhere in the palace gave her plenty of reason to smile for real.
The drugs would work quickly enough. Everybody she'd spoken to had said as much. She'd only have to hold out for that long...
She spread her legs a little further apart, pretending to invite him to something he didn't realise he'd never get again.
"Zhe sooner you get started, zhe sooner you will get to 'ear zhat, won't you...?"
He looked at her position for a moment, during which Marie wondered if he'd tell her to get up and get ready another way. But he didn't. Instead, as he hummed thoughtfully, he kneeled down on the chaise longue and started to crawl towards her.
"I think you might be right, dearest wife-of-mine. And, for being so good and obeying my every order, I think you deserve a treat."
He didn't waste time. He never did when he had a task he'd rather not be doing, in order to get to what he did want to do. He slid her nightdress up and planted maybe one or two kisses around her womanhood, before letting his tongue go to work.
As much as she didn't want to enjoy a single thing from the fucker, Marie let herself go for a few moments. She'd never get this again, after Joseph was gone, so she was going to make the most of it. She was going to take, like he had taken for his entire life, and she wasn't going to apologise for it.
So, she moaned, and rolled her hips to meet his lapping, knowing that each little act of compliance lulled him into a deeper sense of false security. It especially did when she shouted out his name, gasping as he dragged her to her peak and let her tumble over the edge.
And as she recovered, he pulled back, poured and downed another cup of wine. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
"I wasn't going to leave that taste in my mouth," he declared, before pressing a single kiss on her lips. "Now, time to get ready for the real event...!"
It was lucky Marie knew what that meant. Anybody else would've been surprised then by him swiftly undoing his britches and releasing his manhood. She lay back and let it happen, as it was soon buried deep inside her.
She was determined to make the most of every thrust – if this was to be her last time, she might as well enjoy it and take as much as she could from the bastard before it was too late. When the alcohol and the drugs kicked in, it would not be like this. She wouldn't feel the overwhelming pleasure that made her roll her eyes back in her head (whether she liked it or not, he was good in bed, and Joseph was often smug about that fact). She wouldn't get to roll her hips as strongly against his, moaning and gasping.
She wouldn't ever again be brought to her peak, or fall over the edge into a blissful haze, only to be followed by him emptying himself in her shortly after. She knew they weren't finished yet, but until the drugs wore him down and it was time to put the plan into action, she had to keep him entertained.
When Joseph recovered, he pushed himself up, having rolled off her immediately after.
"Well," he said, the grin on his face implied even without being seen. "What next?"
Marie pulled herself more upright slowly. He still sounded sober enough. The drugs were clearly taking their time, and he hadn't had enough wine to be drunk yet. The only thing she could think to do was rectify that...
So, she simply reached for the carafe and poured him another cup.
And that was how the next ten minutes or so were spent – him taking kisses from her and playing with her exposed breasts while she passed him cup after cup of wine, watching him start to slur and stumble more as each gulp of drug-laced wine passed his lips…
Eventually, his attention – and his tongue – went back to her womanhood; he lapped and sucked and fingered in between cups of wine. She stroked and fondled and rubbed at his manhood until he cried out in his own pleasure in return, all while she kept filling him with cup after cup of heady wine.
Each second that passed was making him more vulnerable, and he didn't even know it.
When they eventually ran out of it, Marie knew it was time for the last part of her plan to be put into action – so, she opened her legs again to receive her (very obviously drunk) husband in her for a second time. She pretended to be surprised enough to raise an eyebrow when Joseph shook his head. He shook it slowly, as though he thought the world were moving at a different pace to its usual one.
"Not here," he told her, gesturing at where she still lay.
She cocked her head to one side, pretending to be confused about his refusal but also exposing her throat a little. She knew that he liked to think about putting her in a collar, and the more she could fuel that fantasy, the more susceptible he would be.
Why did men have to be so stupid? They practically traded their whole lives just so a girl would touch their cock...
The stupid one she'd had the misfortune of having to touch turned and pointed with a smirk towards the largest window in the room.
"You know where I like it, and you promised – the biggest window, right in front of the gate. So everybody can see you being my whore, just like you're supposed to be."
Marie grinned, but not for the same reasons he was. Perfect. He'd fallen for the fact that she hadn't chosen the window, so that the suggestion would come from him. He knew she had never once asked to be taken there, and had objected multiple times to being put on display like a Punch and Judy show for voyeurs.
He hadn't cared at all what she'd wanted, though. All the time, he'd only ever thought about himself.
But that night, there was no place that Marie would rather be.
Standing up and taking the glass from him, she set the remains of the drink and the drug infusion down, before starting to tug at the pig's jacket.
Pulling him in the direction of the window.
"Well, zhe sooner we are over zhere, zhe sooner everybody will get to see zhe show..."
That was more than enough of an incentive for Joseph. He practically dragged her there himself, all the while abandoning his clothes and trying hard to fondle and squeeze different parts of her body that he could reach. Not that it was completely working – the wine combined with concoction he had downed without even thinking about it were probably starting to have an effect.
And by an effect, she meant "working exactly as she'd hoped". He was just starting to get dazed enough from his drug-induced state that he was clumsy and teetering on the edge of realistically drunk, but sober enough that he'd follow her right to the ends of the Earth for what she was about to give.
Not that he'd have to go quite that far.
The cobblestones beneath the window would do nicely.
The window where he'd humiliated her for the whole kingdom to see, on a regular basis. Just next to the window ledge Marie had first imagined when she'd realised she was doing this.
When they got there, (him having just managed to pull his britches off and her giggling like she knew he wanted to hear) he only thought he was pushing her up onto said ledge, like he normally would, and Marie even grabbed at his wrists to give him a "helping hand" exploring her body.
She could only imagine that his vision was either growing a little blurry or something was causing him to see double, because his movements were a little slower than usual.
Not that it mattered. She hadn't meant to enjoy this last part (sex when her husband was inebriated was, more often than not, awful). She just had to remember what she was doing and who this was for, in the long run.
That was why she pretended to moan, acting the part perfectly, and even yelping as though she were both surprised and delighted when the hand that had been on her thigh slipped upwards in a juddering fashion, tearing her under-slip.
Joseph definitely seemed to like it, beaming all over his face at her through eyes that were coming close to glazed. He ran his hands over her thighs, into the middle where they met her womanhood, and Marie began to breathe like she was panting.
Just a little longer. She could get through this. She had to focus on what would come from it.
It certainly wasn't going to be him. Not again, at least.
And all the while, Joseph's hands fumbled at her nether regions, the flimsy nightdress tearing further as she opened her legs more to "help" and "encourage" him. She let a cry out when he used his fingers to give her some quick (as he could manage) strokes, just deep enough to make her gasp.
Just enough to get her wet.
"That's it," he grunted, shifting himself so that he was closer, his cock practically twitching in front of her. The movements and his words were both slower than normal, but the tone was ordinary enough for what he would say when he was about to take her. "Tell me how good that feels!"
"Zhat...zhat feels good," Marie mumbled, not wanting to mean it and certainly not meaning it as much as if he hadn't been drugged to the eyeballs. But she rolled her hips obediently to the movement of his fingers, breathing heavily and moaning some. "So good...!"
A hard stroke was accompanied by "Say you are mine!"
The queen couldn't help but whimper before she replied, "I am yours!"
But it was over before anything else happened – Joseph was clearly satisfied that she was ready, and didn't feel like giving her another "special occasion" treat that day. Not that she discouraged it from him to let herself finish. The loss of pleasure wouldn't be half as satisfying as what was on the brink of taking place.
He'd replaced his fingers with his cock in practically no time at all.
Well, not no time. It took him a few tries to line himself up correctly before he managed to slip inside her again.
And as he thrusted in and out, panting but slowing down quite rapidly as the mixture worked its way through his bloodstream, Marie let herself groan and lean back, pulling him in towards her chest so he'd occupy himself with her breasts.
While he worked his hips and she took each pounding (even if they were slowed) move that he gave, moaning and clutching at his shoulders with one hand, she made sure that his attention was completely spoken for...
And used the other hand to discreetly unlock the latch on the window behind her.
The fool didn't even notice. He was too busy lavishing attention on the parts of her body that he'd once said he'd have branded if he could. So people would know exactly who they belonged to.
His thrusts, even though they were hard enough to be getting her to her own peak once again (she had to give it to him – even drugged he knew how to get her there), were definitely on the way to stopping entirely. But he wasn't ready yet – she had to get him exactly where she wanted him!
She leaned forward as much as she could, rubbing herself more on him and letting his manhood bury itself deeper inside her again.
"Do not slow down, mon amour," she purred hotly, nipping at his ear. "I need eet, and I need eet now...!"
Either aroused more by the words or annoyed at the idea that she wasn't enjoying it how he wanted, Joseph sped up again, sending her over the edge as he did.
But she couldn't let herself get lost in it, or even pause for a breath. She needed him to be near his own...it wouldn't take long – not with the drugs and the alcohol...
And indeed, as he kept thrusting and his eyes completely filmed over, Marie knew what was about to happen. He never said when it would, he'd just do it.
So, before the moment arrived (taking him with it), Marie slipped herself off him and pulled away, standing up. The confusion and the rage were palpable from the minute he realised what had happened, even as he staggered and lurched about.
"Wh...? What's going on...?!" he demanded to know in the voice of a drunkard. "Do you mean to deny me my release, woman?!"
Marie immediately began to smile, shaking her head, and she came forward to put her hands on his arms.
"Of course not, mon amour!" she exclaimed. "I merely believed zhat you were...in need of a treat as well..."
She walked him to the ledge to settle him on the seat, parting his legs at the knees and starting to kneel. Joseph, even in his current state, caught on to what she said she was doing and started to grin – it was practically his favourite thing of all. Whores, noblewomen and wives were all expected to perform this task for him, whether they liked it or not. And they certainly weren't to expect the same treatment in return. She'd had the last he'd ever give – and had probably been the only recipient, even if she couldn't be sure. All she knew was that Joseph didn't like having to be so "subservient" and so decided to rarely ever give it.
It wasn't going to matter what he liked or decided, in mere seconds.
"Close your eyes," she told him. "And lean back...relax..."
Joseph did as she said. It was ironic that that was perhaps the first time he'd ever obeyed her.
He was there. He was ready. And so was she.
"'Ere eez your release, you traitorous, murdering bastard!"
She was too quick for him. He hadn't even managed to say "Hm?" and had just opened his eyes before she had leapt up, left him a mere second or two of shocked realisation, and had pushed him through the open window. She leaned over just enough watch but not be seen as his hideous, naked body tumbled, screaming, to the cobblestones below.
"M...Marieeeeeeeee?!"
The question, whether born from the fear she'd hoped he'd feel or the sudden, sober knowledge of betrayal, was cut off shortly and sharply by a loud crack; the tell-tale sound of bones – a spine, a neck, a skull – breaking.
And, for the first time in so many years after sex with her husband, Marie of the House Brightmore began to smile.
She had to let it slip from her face as she came fully into the last of the light, though. She had to turn around and immediately play the distraught new widow, hurrying from somewhere else in the room to see what had happened to her husband.
Nobody would have a hard time believing her. Not as she let out a violent, whaling shriek (all the while pinching herself out of sight of the window to make tears come), apparently at the sight of her husband's broken body, naked and his skull bleeding to the point where it was flooding the cracks in the courtyard stones.
But she couldn't just stand there. She needed witnesses now. And the nearest guards in the palace who had heard her scream would do perfectly.
She could hear them outside the door, banging and shouting and rattling the lock, even as her loud weeping and screaming travelling outside and the presence of a body brought more hurrying, lively bodies to the courtyard.
"Your Majesty?! What happened?! Are you alright in there?!"
Marie knew that now was the time to be more convincing than ever, so she blinked hard to make the tears worse as she pulled as much of her nightdress as she could together, holding it and crying aloud and pretending to gasp for air as she came to unlock the door.
"No! Please, please anybody! Call zhe doctor! My 'usband, 'e...! 'e...! Zhe window…! 'e was just at zhe window!"
The guards marched in the minute the thing swung open, and Marie threw herself at them imploringly. As one went to go investigate the window and the other stayed – most likely to protect her in case of an attacker.
How little they knew...
"Oh, God!" she cried out, clutching at the guard's hands and shoulders, wide-eyed and the perfect picture definition of desperation. "You 'ave to do somezhing! Get zhe doctor! Get my son! Zhey will know what to do! Zhey can fix anyzhing – zhey will be able to 'elp! Zhey 'ave to, don't zhey?! Zhey 'ave to make it all alright – my Joseph...! 'e 'as to be alright!"
The guard she was holding on to looked afraid and uncomfortable – excellent. Real fear and terror often made people uncomfortable.
The guard who was coming from the window had a grave look on his face, like he knew what she was asking for was impossible. That was even better than before. That meant that he could tell Joseph was dead, even from looking at him from a reasonable distance.
She didn't want them to find him still breathing, and take him to his bed in the vain hope that he would recover. She didn't want to have to stand vigil by his bedside, waiting for the moment the priests and the doctors and the attendants would all leave, just so she could smother his half-conscious and completely unaware form with a pillow.
He didn't deserve a soft death. A merciful death. When she'd pushed him just then, he'd been awake. Aware. Feeling. She'd seen it in his eyes as he'd gone over the edge.
"Keep Her Majesty away from the window," the guard coming from the window ordered his companion, muttering to him as he marched towards the door. "It is best that she does not see..."
It wasn't hard for Marie to hear what he'd said, so she let the tears flow harder and the screaming get worse.
"No – no, 'e 'as to be alright! I can see! I need to see 'im, you get zhe doctor and I will go–"
She turned, trying to 'rush to her husband's side', but the guard stopped her from taking more than a couple of steps.
"Your Majesty, please! For your own sake...it is best that you remain here while Doctor Potts is called."
Marie kept up her act, struggling against the guard's hold, trying with all her might to break free. She knew perfectly well that her husband was already on his way to hell, but she couldn't afford to let others realise this.
"You don't understand!" she cried, "We…we were… we were togezher! Just now! 'e said 'e needed some fresh air! Zhat's all!"
The guard gave the Queen a sympathetic look (one that made Marie congratulate herself for such an outstanding performance on her part). Judging by the Queen's state of near-undress and the empty wine pitcher lying atop the little table next to the chaise longue, it was obvious what had happened. The king's habits had finally claimed him and, in his drunken stupor, he'd gotten himself killed.
It didn't surprise the guards – King Joseph, may he rest in peace, had been living on borrowed time, It was bound to happen. Frankly, it was a miracle that he'd lived for as long as he had!
But their Queen didn't see that. She, always so kind and always thinking the best of people, still held out hope for her husband to be alive. It saddened them to see her in such a state. It couldn't be easy to witness your own spouse fall to a painful death. She was in shock. The couldn't allow her to run around the palace like that. She wasn't in her right mind and it was up to them to keep her safe until Prince Niles, or rather, King Niles arrived at her side.
"Your Majesty, please," he insisted. "I…I am afraid His Majesty is dead. The fall…it was too big…"
Marie held back a bubble of relieved laughter and all the thanks and praises for that in the world, instead making sure that they both "knew" just how much of an accident it all was. How much of a tragedy it was.
How much she was now grieving for her bastard, blackguard of a husband.
"No!" she screamed, "fighting" against the hold that they had on her. "No, let me go! 'E cannot be gone, 'e cannot! Let me go to 'im, please – I can wake 'im! I know I can! Joseph!"
She made sure that every syllable of what she had said sounded like it hurt in the depths of her soul. Her soul that had to be stained completely black by now, for what she had done...
But she would accept those consequences when the time came, not before. He had been a murderer, a philanderer and a liar in life, without a spark of love or goodwill for anybody but himself. He deserved what he got.
For now, all Marie could think was that she had done the country a favour in getting rid of him before he had gotten any worse than he already was. And she'd gladly take each and every single tongue of the fires of Hell for the daughter-in-law and grandchild that he had taken away from her and their son.
And speaking of Niles––
"Fetch His Royal Highness...I mean…His Majesty...at once," the ranking guard told his companion. "He should be here to help. I shall stay with Her Majesty, and see that no harm comes her way in the meantime."
With a nod, the lower-ranking guard was gone, leaving the now Queen Mother and the other guard alone. The latter very gently walked a seemingly inconsolable Marie back to her bed and got her to lie down. He even got a maid to help her get changed into a clean nightdress so that she was presentable for when the new king arrived.
Marie was thankful for the gesture. She knew just how well liked she was by the staff and she was intending on milking it for all it was worth. Nobody would suspect her.
Nobody would ever know.
And her bastard of a husband would go down in history as a pitiful king who'd lost his worthless little life in an equally pitiful way.