One Night With The King

Chapter 3 - Logan

As she assumed before turning around to face him, his body was too close for her to meet his eyes without having to looking up. The first thing she glimpsed was a dull and rippled form of herself, trapped in all senses as a reflection in a gold-lined silver of his chest plate. Instead of going upwards to his face, her eyes shot to the floor where she glimpsed black expensive-looking leather boots just inches away from her own rugged brown ones. And since her eyes could not go further down, they went up but slowly and with as much hesitation as she could possibly express. At the knee, where his boots ended, began a deep royal purple with a single red stripe down the sides, making up the fine material of his trouser. Framing his narrow waist were two thick, black belts, both with brass buckles. On the upper belt a crimson sash hung from the buckle. But her eyes lingered at the lower belt, for it held a scabbard at his side that did not go without its deadly sharp contents. Absentmindedly, her eyes traced over the golden knobs and lines connecting them that fell in the center of the armor on his chest. She noticed one knob in the place of his left breast that held resemblance to the sun (which she found odd considering who it was), as well as a crimson sash similar to the one on his belt that swooped down over his left breast, sides hanging from one shoulder to the side of his neck, several rope-like strands hanging above it in a similar style. His broad shoulders were squared by his shoulder pads, adorned with golden tassels, a black cape lined with gold hung from the back. Though his arms were covered in the same royal purple material as his legs, it was still apparent that the man had not allowed an accommodating life in the castle to decrease the size of his biceps. To her surprise, they were big enough to match most of the hardworking men in the rebel camp. But as she furthered her gaze to the gleaming, ever gold-lined armor cuffs on his wrists and the black leather that covered his slender fingers and hands, she doubted he had the same warm and calloused palms as the men of the working class she was accustomed to. Around his neck, the collar of his shirt was popped in an almost villainous way, the thick gold lines looking more like a dog's collar than something to be seen on a man.

She swallowed and allowed herself to bring his face into vision, starting with his angular chin and the signature goatee upon it. She glanced over his sharp features; his chiseled nose flaring ever so slightly, his square jaw set visibly heavy and tight. His skin was fair and pallid, yet not as sickly as she remembered, with a faint amount of color splashed upon his high cheekbones. His complexion held no flaws save for the crease between his brows as they pulled down, and the mysterious scar that stretched over his thin lips as they pursed in a stoic slender line. His sable, brushed-back hair, usually combed neatly, was slightly unkept and she could not help but wonder if the smell of wine contributed to that. His narrow brows were knotted together in the way they always are, giving him his naturally stern expression as they protrude over his eyes. She had seen the king many occasions before now, but for some reason, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

The proximity of their two bodies was unwarranted, to say the least. However, it was not as objectionable as she would have liked it to be. She was close enough so that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body, feel his piercing eyes slowly grasping her soul. It seemed to expel a chill she hadn't known to be their. Ironically, in thought of this, a sudden shiver ran up the length of her back and she had to make certain the tone of her words did not betray her by clearing her throat before she spoke.

"Your Majesty..." She greeted quietly and lowered her head, bending at the knee in a feminine curtsey. The somewhat polite gesture was born mostly of out a habit she had developed, choosing not to cause a scene in the throne room by bowing respectively. It was not because she respected him. His response to her address was a simple nod followed by no words. Despite her inner self commanding her to leave immediately, she took his arm, mainly out of surprise that he'd offered it to her at all.

Finally, she brought her chestnut gaze to meet his own. Oh, those eyes. She knew from previous experiences were the same brown color of her own, but looking at him now... It seemed as though they were a deep, soulless obsidian, more black than tar or a raven's feather. Bullish, cuneiform, gimlet eyes, deep-set by his prominent brow, narrow and jackal-like without emotion. She shuddered to look upon them. But there was something else there, too. One small emotion she couldn't quite place. A warm glimmer in the dark abyss, just barely dancing there across the cold. It was that small little flicker that caused her to take his arm, combined with the oddly soothing command "Come", and the fact that he offered an arm to take at all. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the crook of his elbow, one small hand resting in between his sizable bicep and the silver armor that cupped his wrist, and she was surprised to find that it was warm to the touch. As if she needed anymore surprise than that, instead of seeing the opposite gloved hand go to clench behind his back, she felt his large palm over hers, also astonishingly warm.

He led her up the main stair case in silence, away from the foyer. Once they reached the top, they were alone. Their were no servants around, or even guards. Just her, alone with the King. Before them were three passages, and she wondered which one would lead to his bed, her doom. Thoughts began to swerve wildly in her head. Frightening thoughts about the night still to come. She was so preoccupied that she did not realize they had stopped. As she looked up to him with a puzzled expression, she was both surprised and startled to find he was staring intently at her. Her manner immediately turned from confused to wary under his frightful gaze. But then she furrowed her brow almost angrily, and slowly slipped her hand from in between his arm and palm and folded her arms under her breasts, one hip jutting forward expectantly. Again, his gaze raked over her body, and she got the faintest feeling she was being undressed by his eyes alone with both of them powerless to stop it. She cleared her throat loudly in attempts to bring him back. It worked much to her relief. He paused a moment before speaking, "I must admit, I did not think you'd come." He spoke honestly, the huskiness in his voice rasped even more noticeably now.

She fought between the choice to shrug casually or roll her eyes disrespectfully, but decided on doing nothing. She just kept her gaze even with his. "The ends justify the means..." She said, trying to conceal her doubt that she would even reach the end or that he would oblige and give it to her. She watched as his lips reluctantly parted, no doubt with the intention of contend her words. But she was in no mood for a battle of wits. "Pardon me, my king," She interrupted, again taking on her more rare polite side. "But if you do not mind, I would rather get this over with wordlessly." Never before had she felt more like a helpless member of the oldest profession. But she'd rather not get herself into trouble by her tongue as it would only accomplish a far worse night for herself.

She was somewhat relieved when he closed his mouth and simply nodded, unsure if he was accommodating her request or was simply at a lost for words. His following reply confirmed it to be the prior. "As you wish..." He said, his tone inappropriately offhand. And that was that, for he then began to move towards their left. Page watched him go a few steps before focusing her gaze on the regal doors at the end of the hall. She contained her scared gasp and did her best to make her walking after him less shaky. But of course, she did fail and all but stumbled after him.

It was too short before he had the door opened, signaling for a ladies first entrance by stepping aside for her to enter. She did so reluctantly, glancing about the room before she stepped in. She was surprised to find it simple and void of any elaborate décor unlike most of the castle. The bed was big enough of course, but apart from it and its kingly sheets, there was little else in the room save for weapons hanging from the wall and plain sculptures and designs that were likely just left over from the late King and Queen living here.

She flinched as she heard the door shut behind her, its lock clicking miserly in place. Her shoulders tensed as she felt him behind her again, closer still. She felt his hands at her wrists, seeming to hold her in place. But then he trailed them upwards towards her shoulders. Slowly, his gloved palms lingers at the base of her neck for a mere moment before sliding down to the clasp of her cloak. She could feel his breath on her neck as he undid the clasp and imagined his mouth couldn't be more than inch away from her sensitive skin. She heard the cloak hit the floor.

She half expected him to begin at that very moment, but she was alleviated when instead there was a small draft as he went around her. Her relief was short lived as he only came to stop directly in front of her. She did not crane her head back, only lifted her eyes to meet his. In her peripheral vision she could sense him effortlessly removing a glove from his hand. His eyes never did leave her own, even as she felt a warmth on her face. He had moved his hand there, his palm gently stroking her cheek with a tenderness that surprised her, for she hadn't known he was capable of such a thing. A moment of caressing, and he slid his hand down to gently grasp her chin in his fingers. She stifled a sigh as his thumb gently grazed over her lower lip. All the while, he was bringing himself in closer. Page knew what was coming next as he slowly leaned forward. She kept her eyes open as he did this, and simply waited. But, either by his own reluctance or the fact she was still so tense, he stop less than a painful inch away from her mouth. She found herself following suit to close the gap in an impatience that surprised her. Both their eyes closed, and she allowed him to take her.

Well hi, guys! Guess what, it's mah birthday. Yes, yes I'm an old wrinkly woman now…Sixteen! I can't believe it…I want to be a kid again. Oh well. So, the past two days have been snow days for me. I had nothing to do so I spent most of my time writing another Logan fic ("If I Needed You", check it out!) and getting this one ready for you guys. Next will probably be the last chapter, so I hope you've enjoyed it. It's been fun to write, definitely! Thanks to you guys who reviewed, I cannot tell you how freaking high it makes me feel to get a review LOL. Well I better go. We're going to my favorite restaurant to eat, hurray! Tatty-bye my loves ^_^

Mood: Happy
Listening to: Slow Fade - Casting Crowns