One Night With The King

Chapter 4 – Known Better

Needless to say, when she decided to go through with this proposition, she wasn't expecting it to be enjoyable. If anything, she expected the exact opposite, and was fairly certain she'd get just that.

She'd anticipated the feeling of cold hands ravishing her body with a selfish greed that would pain her with every touch. She'd thought that having his bare flesh pressed to her own would be like hugging a corpse. She'd imagined him taking her with hard, cruel thrusts, each blow much more painful and punishing than the last. She'd wondered how sick he was, the awful things he'd make her stand through while he did them to her. Or worse, force her to do it to himself. And when it was all over, she predicted being thrown right back out in the streets of which she came, fully dressed or not, having gained nothing but nightmares from their union.

But instead, he'd surprised her. From the moment of that first kiss, all the way to the end.

When her lips met his for the first time, her breath caught in her throat. Not because the action itself had startled her; he made perfectly clear his intentions by leaning in closer and staring at her full, dark lips, and in truth she had been the one to close the small gap he'd created. No, it was because she was astonished at how...pleasing it had all felt, the felt an electric shock she felt deep within her at his touch.

The kiss had lasted for a while, she knew. But with him, it seemed much shorter, and she surprised herself by mourning the loss of his warmth on her lips. When he pulled away, another action that surprised her, she had felt his dark eyes searching her face as if to gauge her reaction. She swallowed and felt herself tremble beneath his gaze. Purposefully, she had not brought her own eyes up to return the gesture. Unconsciously, she ran her tongue over her lips and could taste him, the tang of his skin combined with the sweet hint of the wine that he had undoubtedly been drinking before her arrival.

Without thinking, he had slowly slid his arms around her waist to pull her as closer to him as possible, the wine he had previously consumed singing in his veins. Unlike everything else he had ever done as King, she had not resisted to it this time. From then on, their actions had seemed completely automated, instinctive. The meeting of their lips in an electric frolic issued a slow moan that purred from Page's lips, a reaction that would have astounded her had she been wary of her actions. With his arms around her waist she followed suit, sliding her own up his chest to lock around his neck in order to deepen the kiss.

Passion seemed to flood from them both, his arms fully enveloping her, pulling her so that space didn't exist between them at that moment. The thunder of their hearts seemed to be bouncing off the others chest, mirrored by desire coursed between them. There was a brief connection of tongues before another surge of electricity ran through them; leaving them both open to freely explore the other.

At some point after that, she became painfully aware of the hard sheet of armor that was separating them. Unable to pull away from the osculation, she let her fingers fumble over the latches of the chest plate and soon the metal fell from his torso to clatter at their feet along next to her previously discarded cloak and his tasseled shoulder pads. Soon, only his shirt adorned his chest. At the knowledge of such a thin material being the only thing that sundered them, a feeling of overwhelming excitement filled their chests and their contact became faster and rougher and far more heated. Quickly, she worked to remove the violent garment of his shirt, and with little work she had pulled it over his head and tossed it on the floor, breaking the kiss only long enough to do so. But as her hands found his now-bare chest again, she felt something off.

A coarse, rope-like hardness protruding from the otherwise smooth exterior of his skin. The unforeseen texture threw her off guard enough to make her gasp lightly and pull away, remaining close enough to feel his breath on her face but far enough to just glimpse his chest. He swallowed, because he knew what she would be looking at. There, standing out from the paleness of his skin like a tattoo, were a series of scars. Painful looking scars marring the skin of his chest that had to have been hell to obtain. There were three thin, red lines that slanted diagonally across his chest, each beginning at his right shoulder and snaking down to the left side of his middle. Underneath them, intersecting the last of the top scars, was a set of three more flowing in a similar pattern from under his left breast to his left hip. They look like claw marks...she thought. So that was why he started wearing chest armor.

She chewed her bottom lip, finger brushing absentmindedly over the scars. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, she brought her gaze up to meet his own. His eyes were still the same dark, hollow hues but they seemed to be even more sulking than before. She could tell a terrible experience was linked to the claw skin on his torso, and she felt a strange sense of pity for him. Perhaps it was this that encouraged her to meet his lips again.

As time went on, the kisses and touches became more heated and more rough and soon they found themselves in a state of complete undress. She was surprised at how gentle he was with her, his warm body never pounding down painfully upon her as she predicted he would. In fact, there were times when she'd felt more in charge than he.

She had not felt the cold hands ravishing her body, but rather warm and tender touches caressing her in all the perfect places. When his body pressed against her own, he hadn't felt as lifeless and chilling as the corpse she imagined him to be. He'd insisted on no sick or disgusting deeds, and not once had a single thing he'd done been painful or punishing. She'd actually thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. But as they lay together in the solitude of his large bed, the room bathed in the gray light of dawn, her mind pondered over everything.

Her head lay weighted to his chest by her sleepiness and the exhaustion of her thoughts, her fingers drawing absentminded shapes on his skin, occasionally tracing over those oh so curious scars. He had drifted off into the warm embrace of sleep, another warm embrace he supplied never left her as his muscular arm stayed draped over her. She had snuggled up closely and girlishly against him, feeling more secure than she ever thought she would in his presence.

Bust still those nagging thoughts were there. She was reminded of why she was even here: his promise to end his tyrannical rule. She was also reminded of her doubt that he would keep his end of the bargain up. She wanted to believe he would after the way he carried himself last night, his kind demeanor and seemingly caring attitude. Surely he would... Or was it all just an act?

Whatever the case, she found her buzzing thoughts kept her from sleeping. With a sigh, she shrugged his arm off her shoulder and sat up, rubbing her temples and shaking her head. On whatever impulse, she craned her neck so that she could see his face.

Like most people did when they slept, he looked so much more at peace. His constantly worried and foreboding expression seemed to be chased away by black unconsciousness, and perhaps even dreams. She dared to think he could dream...only God knew what about if he did. But looking at him now, he seemed very much the young man she knew was buried somewhere deep underneath the exterior of a harsh ruler aged by being thrust into the position too young. It was this that changed her mind for her. He would keep his promise... Surely, he would. Those were among the last thoughts that passed through her mind before she curled up against him and drifted off to join him in sleep.

-x-

When she woke again, she found that she was alone, but her clothes had been folded and laid neatly at the foot of the bed. A glance around the room would prove the man she was looking for was no where to be found. Suddenly feeling rather lost and out of place, she had no idea what to do now. Should she just up and leave, head back to the slums and sewers of Bowerstone and forget the night ever happened? What about his promise?

After a moment's silent reasoning, she decided that she should set out to find him. She'd never known him to leave the castle; no reason he'd start now. Without a sound, she rose from the bed and dressed quickly for fear of being walked in on by one of the many servants or guards that dotted the castle.

Again adorned in her peasant-like outfit, Page set out through the surprisingly empty halls of the castle. She tried to remember her way around the way she'd come last night, only to realize she had forgotten most of it. Thankfully, the castle was no maze at all, and she quickly found the main staircase. At the top, she could see inside the throne room. It was empty save for a few guards who paid no heed to her whatsoever. Puzzled, she turned to go back down the stairs. Perhaps he was taking breakfast in the dining room. It was still breakfast time, wasn't it? Then again, she wasn't sure how long she'd slept.

She was about to set out in search for it down another hall, but a voice behind her stopped her in her tracks. "Here now, peasant." Came the bellowing tone of a soldier behind her, "What business have you here?" He stated officially.

She turned to face the haughty man, jutting one hip forward as she put a hand on either side. "I had some business with the King that is no concern of his guards. Is that a problem?" Her tone was snappier than had been intended.

Realization could be seen sparking in the man's eyes, the only feature that could be seen through the silver lines of his mask. "Miss, I am to escort you out of the castle. King's orders." He said abruptly, and without warning reached out to seize her by the wrist. Promptly, he began to drag her out the large double doors a few paces away.

"What? Unhand me, now! I demand it!" She said, knowing fully well the King's demand probably outweighed her own in any circumstance. But she couldn't comprehend that the man who'd treated her with such compassion as last night could arrange in such an underhanded way to avoid dealing with her. "You must have the wrong person, I have an important matter to discuss with the King."

The guard did nothing to stop himself, leading her down the stair and into the courtyard. "As it were, the King won't be meeting with you today."

"Oh? And why not?" She hissed.

"In the words of his majesty to you, Miss: you should have known better."

Page's jaw went slack and her mouth dropped open in shock. She was sure that had it not been for the man simply demanding she keep them working, her legs would have failed all together. He was right.

She should have known better…

Done.

And I'll just end it there, mwahaha. Sorry for the somewhat delayed update. School got to me for a while, there. Anyway, here's the last chapter. Also, sorry if you were looking for some big, extreme sex scene. Nothing against it, I'm just not that kind of writer. Well... Thanks again to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited...I guess you would say "favorited", right? Regardless, it means so much to me! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all had fun reading it. Well then... Tatty-bye!