Future chapters will periodically focus on those who have ill intentions for fair Tristain as well as all the romance. To this end, I'm adding a couple of small supporting characters to assist Wardes and Fouquet in their shadowy missions. I hope you enjoy the cloak and dagger elements I'm adding!
I'm also happy to announce that the story has some commissioned artwork.
You can check it out by searching up 'CrystalMoonlightIII' on DeviantArt or by clicking the link listed below:
crystalmoonlightiii
Now, with all of that out of the way, do enjoy!
...
Those with ill intentions for fair Tristain make their moves under the cover of nightfall.
All the while, young and restless hearts try to navigate a mire of emotions and desires.
Tristania - Part IV - Passion & Intrigue
Viscount Jean de Wardes stands in the courtyard of his family's wealthy family estate on the outskirts of Tristania. Or, more specifically, he waits on his cool moonlit evening.
He waits, his arms folded and his back pressed to one of the many garden statues depicting an elegant goddess of Germanian folklore, for his trusted messenger.
With Albion's royalists having fallen and news likely to reach Princess Henrietta in a matter of hours, traps must be set and plans laid to ensure every possible scenario is accounted for whilst the inexperienced queen-to-be watches over Tristain.
And especially before Queen Marianne returns from her business abroad.
A fluttering sound interrupts his thoughts. The viscount looks up to the night's cloudless, star-scattered sky, where the shadowy figure clad in a black cloak draws near.
He stands, arms at his side, his breath held in anticipation. The viscount, having been tasked by Albion's nationalist faction to prepare for the Holy Order's rebirth, swallows stiffly, then gives a slow, cautious nod as the figure draws closer and lands in the garden with the softest thump.
"Sir," the cloaked messenger says in greeting with a short, sharp bow, the voice of a man he knows.
The viscount smiles, stepping up to the newcomer and extending a hand to place on his shoulder, clasping it firmly in his gloved fingers.
"And so you have returned, Félix, " the young noble murmurs with a gentle, satisfied nod, his voice calm and melodic. "Tell me, how is Fouquet?"
The black-hooded figure bows his head, the soft breeze rustling the dark fabric.
"I informed her as you desired, milord," Félix answers with a curt nod before slowly turning to the Viscount's face. "...As expected, she is not too happy with remaining imprisoned."
Jean smirks and gives the man a final nod, removing his hand from the cloaked messenger's shoulder to clap him on the back, drawing a soft grunt in reply.
"Well, she shall have to whilst our plan proceeds to its next phase: Time is most assuredly against us, after all," the viscount states in a firm voice.
He watches Félix nod in agreement.
"Indeed, sir, which is why I intend to make contact with our long-time agent within Tristania Palace as you requested," the young man adds with a calm smile, a slight smirk visible even beneath his cloak. "She is already monitoring Princess Henrietta's every move as you requested."
Wardes' eyes narrow, and his smile grows broader.
"You work fast, my friend, but that is why you are my most trusted servant," the young man says. "And you are certain Miranda suspects nothing? The old crone is rather shrewd, especially when it comes to the safety of our future Queen Henrietta."
Wardes feels the messenger shake his head, the shadow-covered eyes of the man flickering in the pale moonlight.
"She has no cause to doubt her identity, sir. And besides, Henrietta's special guests hold the old attendant's attention at present, I believe," he answers.
The viscount lets out a pleased grunt and paces in a half circle around his trusted servant.
"Yes, one of whom is my fiancé," he hums, clasping his hands behind his back in satisfaction. "Speaking of which... You are certain Louise is present at the palace now? She did not refuse Henrietta's invitation?"
"Absolutely, my lord," his shadowy associate responds with a nod. "One of our faithful nestled among Lenore's populace saw her carriage depart and reported it to me. The girl and her familiar left with two fellow students yesterday, and arrived at Tristania Palace earlier today, at noon."
"Perfect," the viscount remarks, pausing to lean his weight upon his right leg as his left hand moves to his chin. "Which leaves the other matter I asked you to coordinate..."
Félix takes a small step forward, the fluttering of his cloak shifting as he does.
"...As for that particular task, I had our second agent within Tristain Academy observe your future wife since as instructed, the Guardian, also," the hooded man informs his master.
Wardes feels his brow furrow, his expression darkening.
"And? Have her powers awakened further?" he asks with an icy tone, his mind racing with the possibility.
"Not from what our man could see. The girl cannot manifest her magic at will, sir," Félix answers.
Wardes nods.
"As it stands then, the situation with the girl appears unchanged, but I shall take care of her shortly, regardless," he informs the black-robed messenger in a flat, factual tone. "A simple letter to her mother requesting our marriage be set forward should prove enough."
"...Regarding your fiancé, My Lord Wardes... a certain rumour reached my ears from my spy: A whisper of sorts that circulates the classrooms."
Jean blinks, a sudden pang of curiosity hitting him.
"A rumour? Indulge me," he utters.
Félix's cloak flutters in the breeze as he goes on.
"...While seemingly trivial, whispers amongst the female students suggest that Louise has fallen in love with her familiar," the shadow man elaborates, his amusement clear in his low, hushed voice.
Wardes' eyes narrow, the nobleman's brow furrowing.
"Fallen in love, you say?" the viscount echoes, his lips curving up in a bemused smile as his heart quickens at the implications of this new information. "How... quaint."
He chuckles darkly, pacing around the statue upon which he once stood and turning back to Félix with a thin smile.
"No matter. Louise is a nobleman's youngest daughter. When pressure is applied by her mother, she will fold as is expected over her, romantic inclinations or otherwise," Wardes explains in a flat, unemotional voice. "Especially considering our mutual past..."
The darkly clad messenger bows his head.
"...It may not prove so simple, I fear," he answers in a hushed whisper, and the young viscount cocks his head to the side in silent question.
"...Explain."
"Her familiar, this 'Michael' has... proven more gallant and kind-hearted than one would expect, especially of a foreigner to Tristain and its customs," the messenger states in a matter-of-fact tone, the shadow's cloak flickering with the slightest of motions from his companion's hands. "He remains steadfast in his duty to your fiancé, and has even earned the attention of several others of note."
Wardes feels a flicker of amusement spark within his chest, a cold smile forming on his lips.
"Has he now, then?"
Félix gives a nod.
"Indeed. The fire mage Kirche von Zerbst of Germania has shown a clear interest in the young Guardian. What's more, his relationship with the Tristanian royal princess is also... warm. Warmer than I believe you will find comfortable, assuming you intend for his... removal, once you and Miss Vallière are wed."
It is here that Wardes' amusement falters, his expression hardening into an irritated scowl.
"...Do continue, Felix," the royal captain commands of his faithful messenger.
His companion bows.
"Well, my lord, it has reached my ears that Princess Henrietta bestowed a royal insignia upon the man earlier today, and personally thanked him for his part in subduing Fouquet," Félix elaborates. "That alone would suggest an air of trust on behalf of Tristan's future monarch."
Jean's scowl deepens, his fingers twitching at his side.
"...And a desire to see him advance through further deeds, no doubt," he growls, clenching his hands into fists as a flicker of irritation courses through him.
"Most likely, yes, which is why I brought the rumours to your attention."
Wardes clasps his hands behind his back again and lets out an exhale.
"Thank you, I appreciate the diligence," the nobleman says with a curt nod, his voice becoming gentler in an instant. "And continuing this topic, there is something I would know."
"Certainly, sir."
The Viscount eyes his black-robed friend and a flash of intrigue flashes behind his eyes.
"Has my Louise's familiar made an enemy of anyone noteworthy whilst here in Tristain?" Jean questions in a firm voice. "A rival mage of sorts, perhaps? Or an instructor in the school?"
He watches his messenger's head tilt in thought, the hooded man's black-clad lips curling in amusement as he speaks.
"...As a matter of fact, he has, I believe, one mage who would do anything to see Miss Valière's familiar fail," Felix states, "The eldest son of General Gramont, Guiche. He looks upon the familiar with disdain for untangling his petty romantic escapades."
Jean de Wardes folds his arms and looks out at the estate's large pond in silence, the young lord's expression turning blank as a realization dawns upon him.
"Interesting... De Gramont's son isn't known for being particularly astute. That said, perhaps we could use him, as a means of removing the Guardian, with the right persuasion, of course."
Félix tilts his head, the shadows beneath his cloak flickering with the faintest of movements.
"What is your bidding then, Lord Wardes?"
"We will have Fouquet reach out to him when the time is right, to offer a chance for retribution," Wardes explains in an unhurried manner, his words taking on the faintest hint of a low, cold smirk.
The nobleman feels Felix raise a brow beneath his hood at his suggestion.
"Are you not concerned by the risk choosing her poses? Every royal knight and manhunter in Tristain will spring to attention once we free her," the cloaked man reminds Jean.
Jean's smirk grows into a cold, vicious sneer, the Viscount's dark, blue eyes twinkling in the moon's soft glow.
"...No, you see, that's where our plan for Henrietta comes in..." he states with a smug tone.
A flicker of intrigue passes over Felix's eyes as he speaks.
"Do tell..."
Wardes grins.
"...You will have our agent in Tristania Palace move on Henrietta tomorrow, and in the confusion, you will spring Fouquet from prison and whisk her away from the capital."
He sees Felix nod in understanding and continues, a calculating smile spreading across his features.
"...Once free, our comrade will travel to Lenore, hide amongst the commonfolk until the dust settles, and await further instructions," the viscount adds in a hushed whisper, the noble's voice taking on the faintest hint of amusement. "The knights of Tristain will search every building and farmhouse for their fugitive, and will turn every stone for their quarry, but to no avail..."
Felix folds his arms.
"What if our plan proves unsuccessful? What if Fouquet is caught?"
The Viscount lets out an amused chuckle.
"Oh, she will not," Wardes insists with a shrug. "I know Fouquet better than most. She is beyond adept at assuming disguises. Need I remind you of the years she spent serving Osmond?"
"Not at all, milord, I understand."
"Perfect. Then you may go now, Felix," Wardes murmurs, placing a hand on the cloaked man's shoulder and gently patting it. "I will await the news of our plans' fruition in due time. You shall find me here for the time being, and do inform Fouquet she shall have her retribution once she's completed this task, and we have secured Henrietta."
"Understood, I will be off."
The cloaked messenger bows his head to the viscount in parting and then raises a hand to his hood in turn, the wind picking up around the two men with a powerful gust of air as he does.
Wardes feels a chill course down his spine as his ally takes on a sudden burst of light, the dark fabric of the man's robes shimmering in a glint of blue.
Félix is gone the next moment, the young noble's black cloak vanishing into nothing as it's replaced by a swarm of cawing, dark ravens which flap in a flutter of black feathers before scattering to the winds.
The viscount stands there for some time, alone in the darkness and surrounded by his family's statues and the pond in front of him.
"And now we wait..."
Word of the Royalists' fall will reach Henrietta within the hour, no doubt.
And then the next phase can truly begin.
Tabitha, her arm looped through Michael's as the two head for their respective rooms after a lovely dinner, reaches a fork and makes a turn to the right. Guiding her companion through the twisting passages of Tristan Palace as the evening's air grows cool, she wears a tiny, tender smile.
In her chest, a flutter of excitement bubbles forth with each passing second, and it is with no small measure of reluctance that, as the two come within a few meters of her door, she finally pulls the handsome blonde man to a stop.
"Everything alright there, Blue?" Michael asks with his usual warm, carefree smile.
Tabitha returns the grin and gives a small nod, her gaze sliding from him and settling on the large double doors leading to her bedchambers.
"Yes... I'm fine," she answers with a nervous nod, and the familiar beside her raises a brow.
"You absolutely sure?" her friend says with an inquisitive tilt of the head. "You've been pretty quiet, even to the usual Tabitha's standards, I mean. Not that I'm complaining, but is there anything you need to talk about, I'm all ears."
She feels a spark of appreciation in her heart for the blonde's kindness.
"Thank you for asking... there is nothing on my mind," she states, giving the tall young man a slight bow. "I'm just... happy. Happy we can spend time together like this."
And it is here that her face flushes in the dim light, her voice growing smaller in the empty palace corridor.
The mage's heart thunders affectionately in her chest, too. Something she knows Michael will pick up on through their shared magical connection.
She watches his green eyes widen the smallest fraction, watches him smile that tender smile of his.
And in that moment, the world feels still, her heartbeat seeming to slow as it bangs like a hammer inside her breast.
Michael lets out a long sigh, his expression turning soft yet deeply thoughtful as though he's considering how to answer the girl's heartfelt admission.
"You and me, Blue, I can't deny we've gotten really close, really fast," the blonde murmurs, the handsome man's emeralds locking with hers. "I'm...not against it, though, even if things are a little hectic right now: With you and Kirche, and Louise, too."
The air in Tabitha's lungs vanishes at this confession, and the girl finds herself blushing brightly as a bolt of selfish satisfaction races through her at his words, her stomach fluttering.
She lets out a nervous, quiet hum of acknowledgement in reply as Michael nods and steps forward.
Tabitha watches him close the distance between them and wrap his strong arms around her back. The familiar rests his head on top of her own as she slides into his embrace, a long, relaxed exhale passing between the two of them.
"...I talked with Kirche earlier," her companion utters after a brief spell of silence.
Tabitha's lips press into a thin, worried line.
"You... talked?" she whispers, and feels him give a nod against her head. "What did she have to say?"
"She suggested I quit resisting Halkeginia's ways, that I accept them and try earning respect," the handsome blonde murmurs with a sigh, "I'm... gonna go for it. Not force it, I mean, but I'll try."
Tabitha pulls back at his confession, and her heart melts at the possibilities on offer should Michael be recognized as a noble.
The possibilities it holds for his future. Their future, if such a things come to pass.
And at these notions, Tabitha's cheeks burn red-hot.
"I'm...happy for you," she murmurs into Michael's chest, a small breath slipping from her lips as an excited gasp as she nuzzles into the warm fabric of the familiar's shirt.
Her companion lets out a nervous chuckle in reply.
"Thanks, Blue. I'm just tired of having no control," her handsome companion admits, a soft sigh passing between the two of them as his grip around her back tightens. "Over my life. And seeing Louise cry over hers being set in stone. If I'm recognized as a noble, somehow, some way-"
"You will not be bound like a commoner," she interrupts him, and Michael hums, nodding.
"Exactly," he answers.
The young woman lets out a relieved hum of agreement, her eyes sliding shut in satisfaction as her precious blonde's hold on her tightens further.
"I hope... we remain close like this, no matter the future," Tabitha whispers in the stillness of the night, her fingers finding themselves resting on the fabric of Michael's shirt as they dig in slightly in an attempt to bring herself closer to her dear friend. "I want to... stay close to you..."
Tabitha swallows nervously and lets out a hot breath of air into Michael's chest at what she just said.
At this, the familiar simply chuckles and kisses the top of Tabitha's head.
"Hey now, there's no putting the genie back into the bottle after Halfway House," Michael reminds her with a chuckle as he pats the girl on her back in a soothing manner.
Tabitha lets out a hum of approval in reply.
"True... We can never return to being just friends..." she agrees in a hushed whisper.
"Exactly..."
Tabitha takes in a sharp inhale, and presses herself up onto her tippy toes to plant her lips against Michael's. To steal his love and his warmth for just a moment before he returns to Louise.
And, smiling tenderly in the face of her advance, the man presses an index to her lips.
"Only one, Blue, 'kay? ...Way too much has happened this past couple of days," her friend states in a whisper, a sigh passing his lips. "...And I promised Louise things wouldn't get any crazier."
Tabitha swallows nervously and gives a reluctant nod.
Satisfied, Michael retracts the digit and leans in close to grant her wish.
"...Nothing to say we can't make it count, though," he utters in a low, suave tone.
Tabitha lets out a breath, a wave of warmth blossoming in her breast.
She leans into Michael's embrace with a gentle, tender press of the lips.
...And as she does, Tabitha's eyes flutter shut, a happy smile blossoming on her face as she revels in the familiar's embrace, the softness of her dear companion's lips.
...It's enough.
And Tabitha, happy with this, and eager to steal the moment, places her hands on the back of the man's neck as he parts his lips from hers with a powerful smack.
Perfection. Purest and most divine, courses through her petite body in the aftermath. And, her lungs empty of air, the blue-haired mage pants lightly in a desperate bid to catch her breath.
"...Good enough, Tabby?" Michael asks in a whisper.
Tabitha nods with a warm, satisfied smile, her chest tight as Michael pulls away from her.
"...You should... get going," she murmurs, a sensual, red-hot shudder coursing through her: Her body's cry for greater, more intimate satisfaction the likes of which they shared last night.
Michael, doubtless sensing this desire too, nods shortly.
"...Yeah, sounds good."
The decision reached, Tabitha's beloved offers her one final smile as he pats her on the back in a comforting, affectionate gesture. He then turns toward his bedroom door and reaches for the handle.
"G'night, Blue, you take it easy."
With those last few words, Michael gives her one final glance, a caring smile on his lips and tenderness shining in his eyes before turning the doorknob and bringing the door open with a low squeak of old hinges.
The tall young man takes one last step through the door and disappears inside.
As the door shuts with a faint thud behind him, Tabitha stands there alone for a long while, a loving, serene smile on her lips and her body shuddering with yearning.
"...Goodnight, Michael."
Heeled shoes clacking down the hall snap Tabitha from her daze with a flinch.
Pushing out a hurried breath, the bluenette turns in the sound's direction.
At the other end of the hall, Kirche, who stayed behind in the dining hall to chat with Princess Henrietta and enjoy her dessert, flashes a bright grin upon making eye contact. The redhead gives Tabitha a small, friendly wave, her brownish-gold eyes radiating friendliness.
Tabitha's eyes, however, linger more on her dress than anything else, an exceptionally revealing, frilly frock of a striking red hue with cleavage that is more than revealing.
Tabitha nods shortly.
"Kirche."
"There you are, Tabitha, dear," the young noblewoman returns the greeting with a smile of her own and a wave of her hand, a playful light twinkling in the Germanian woman's eyes. "And where is our beloved Michael, hmm?" the girl adds with a hum, pouting. "He left with you, did he not?"
Tabitha flushes as she stares back at Kirche's eyes.
She looks away.
"He's gone to bed."
And at this, her redheaded friend laughs lightly.
"Given that response, I'll assume he isn't in yours," Kirche remarks, the older woman's words eliciting another embarrassed, red-faced mumble from Tabitha.
"No, he isn't," the bluenette answers bluntly, and the older woman huffs out a sigh.
"A pity, I was hoping one of us might have our way tonight," the Germanian confesses with something of a naughty chuckle, folding her arms behind her back. "And after I took the time to wear this for him, too."
Tabitha stares at Kirche, her mouth opening slightly as the redhead turns in a slow twirl and poses seductively with her chest sticking out.
She then blushes at her friend's shamelessness, and, after a moment of silence, turns her back and looks off to her room. "I'm going to sleep, goodnight, Kirche," she murmurs, the blue-haired mage stepping away.
She stops mid-stride, however, as a pair of soft, smooth arms wrap around her from behind, the younger girl gasping softly as a pair of firm, voluptuous breasts press into the fabric of her uniform from behind.
"...Sleep well, dear," Kirche hums teasingly, giving Tabitha a final, gentle squeeze before letting the smaller girl go with a quiet, almost teasing laugh. "We'll simply have to try harder tomorrow."
Unimpressed by such a notion, Tabitha just slips free of the redhead's embrace and continues walking.
"Perhaps."
The redheaded mage snorts with amusement but says nothing further.
Tabitha reaches her door, opens it and steps through the threshold into the darkness within.
As the door slams shut behind her with a gentle click of the lock, the comfort of personal space washes over her like a cooling wave.
Not that she would have minded sharing this space with a certain blonde familiar.
Satisfied with solitude for the time being nonetheless, she releases all of her pent-up emotions - the love and the desire and frustration - with a deep exhale.
The door closed behind me, I push out a deep breath to relax my tense body.
"Damn, Blue, you almost had me there..."
I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her sweeter with every passing day, especially with how-
Hold on, I hear moaning. It's heated, passionate, desperate.
Taking off my cloak and hanging it up on the coat rack by the door, I cautiously step deeper inside mine and Louise's shared room and turn my gaze in the sound's direction.
They bulge wide at what waits for me.
Seriously, holy shit...
Louise, dressed down to nothing but a pair of dainty white panties that are messily bunched up at her knees, sits with her back pressed against the wall to my left, her eyes screwed shut in concentration.
The petite pink-haired mage rocks her hips against her hand and massages her small, glistening opening. Palm grinding against her bare, virgin slit, her chest heaves with every shaky breath, her stiff, perky nipples standing on end with pleasure.
Louise pants and mewls with delight, the girl's other hand slipping down from her beesting boobs to join the other between her thighs as the sound of her squishing and groping bounces off the walls.
"Ohh, Goddess... Michael!" the girl spews out my name, her pink orbs sliding open halfway to meet mine as she speaks.
At seeing her precious gaze resting on me, I freeze in the doorway and stare, a hot shiver racing through my body in reply.
And then, the realization I'm in the room with her striking like a lightning bolt, Louise's eyes pop open, her jaw falling to the ground.
She squeals, a noise that makes me jump with a start.
The small mage flips onto her knees with a heavy gasp and grabs at her sheets, burying her head in the white, silk covers as her butt wiggles back and forth, her feet kicking wildly on either side of her rear.
"D- Don't look, Michael!" Louise whines, her head swivelling around to glare at me over her shoulder.
Face heating and my heart hammering from what I just saw, I can only force a thin, nervous smile.
"Hey, no shame in buttering the muffin, Princess," I offer, gently, comfortingly.
And at my teasing tone, I see the small girl stiffen.
"Don't make it worse with your unusual phases, dummy!" Louise shrieks out with a shudder, and my lips purse together as I take a step nearer the bed.
It's probably I be a gent about this whole thing, to set Louise at ease.
So, I place an arm around my waist and bow with all of the Tristanian politeness I can muster.
"...All I'm saying is... you should've waited for me to get back, Mistress, I would've gladly helped," I explain, a coy smile coming to my lips. "...You know, I might've been up for a bit myself."
Louise's face reddens so much that I'm honestly scared that she'll burst like some kind of overripe tomato, a flustered squeal bursting forth from her throat.
I just laugh softly.
"There there, love," I coo soothingly, sitting at the foot of the bed.
"...You should've gotten back sooner, Michael, you stupid oaf!" the young woman mutters into her sheets with a muffled snivel as I place my palm on her lower back and start rubbing up and down, feeling the girl stiffen in response to my touch.
I raise an eyebrow.
"Hey, ease up there, I'm surprised you have anything left after last night," I return in an airy tone, leaning in closer to kiss the pinkette's cheek as she turns away, a snivelling whimper slipping past her lips as she buries her face into the bed.
Louise, snarling with frustration, thrusts out an angry finger and jabs me in the thigh with the digit.
"A good familiar would have shut his mouth and kissed his feverish mistress already..." the petite young woman whines.
And with that, I laugh quietly.
"...Yes, of course, your wish is my command, Milady."
My response causes the young girl to flinch and groan out loud in exasperation, her tiny, petite body quaking with anger and arousal.
"Michael, stop being so... you, I'm burning..." the young girl whimpers softly, and my smile widens in the face of Louise's embarrassment, the girl's shoulders relaxing as I embrace her small, clammy frame.
"Then quit being a bossy cow and just kiss me already, yeah?" I return with a whisper and a teasing nudge.
My words draw a startled squeal from the young girl, her expression half elated, half annoyed, as her hands grab onto the front of my shirt in a possessive manner and pull me forward.
With a light thump, I tumble atop Louise, my mouth opening as our lips meet in a gentle, yearning press.
I feel her hands leave my shirt to wrap around the back of my neck and draw me down against her, our lips and tongues coming together with a breathless smack and a shudder as Louise whines softly against my lips.
"A 'bossy cow', hmm...? I'll have to punish you for that, you lowly familiar," she breathes out as we peel our lips apart a few moments later.
"Really now?"
Louise nods in response to my teasing words and hums, the girl's pink eyes meeting my own.
"You need a lesson in what a lady does to an ill-behaved dog," she returns, and at the lust-addled expression in my beloved's gaze, a hot, hungry shiver races through my body.
Louise notices this and lets out a happy giggle in reply, a small hand resting on my chest as I let out a long, relieved sigh, my body relaxing under Louise's touch.
"Guess I'd better whip off this shirt then, the trousers, too," I utter with a soft sigh of pleasure as Louise's hand slides beneath the fabric of my shirt to stroke my bare, heated chest.
A lustful whimper of desire bursts from my dear Louise's throat.
"...And the undergarments," the small woman murmurs, her breath hitching. "E-Especially those..."
A breath of agreement slips from my lungs.
I raise myself off Louise slightly so that she can see as my fingers hook around the rim of my shirt and draw it upward, a soft breath escaping her as I bring it off completely with a smooth motion.
My hands find themselves moving down to my belt next, my heart pounding with excitement and arousal.
It takes less than a moment for me to have my trousers open, my hands bringing them down to my ankles so I can step out of them.
My boxers, the only article of clothing on my body at the moment, follow soon after, and a sharp breath bursts from Louise's chest.
My meat is throbbing hard, veins pulsing with excitement at the thought of Louise, the girl's hungry, aroused expression drawing a soft gasp from me.
"Come here," my lover murmurs with a playful hum, her voice quivering as her pink eyes lock on my face and hold there. "So I might enjoy another taste..."
She holds out a hand and I grasp it without hesitation, allowing her to pull me down into an intimate embrace atop the bed.
"Just us tonight, beautiful, no distractions," I whisper into my beloved's ear, my chest pressing to hers as she kicks her soaking panties off beneath me. "Let's make the most of it."
A shuddering, needy breath rushes out from between the girl's lips.
"...Gladly, you dirty dog..."
And, with my mind spinning from eagerness and my body quivering from lust, my beloved lets out a shuddering moan.
Oh yeah, tonight's going to be a very, very good night.
Michael's attentive lips pressed firmly to the petals of her swollen blossom, Louise runs her clammy fingers through the blonde's golden locks and moans with gluttonous glee.
As she feels Michael's fingers wrap around the back of her thighs and draw her in deeper against his mouth, Louise can't help but feel her heart burst with satisfaction.
T-The sheathe can wait until another night.
His touch, his affection, is so, so much more than enough...
A moan erupts from deep within her chest.
As if agreeing with this thought, she hears a gentle, pleased sigh rush from the familiar's lungs and feels his lips peel from the pink petals of her womanhood with a wet pop.
She stares down, her gaze wide, at her precious partner with a shaky gasp as a breathless, hot, needy shudder rushes through her body, her vision going white as he flashes a naughty smile.
"Dirty enough for you, Princess...?" the young man breathes out in a quiet, almost teasing whisper.
Louise can only gasp at this, a low moan rising from her throat, her pink eyes trembling with elation as breathless mewls slip from her lips in a helpless whisper.
"...More, more...!" she yelps, the petite woman shuddering with pleasure.
As he resumes his oral love, her hips bucking and buckling under the sensations, Louise closes her eyes in rapture, a long, satisfied breath escaping her as she gives herself over to the blissful pleasure Michael's tongue provides.
"Deeper, deeper, you perverted familiar...!" the girl screams with glee, the small mage grinding herself against her beloved's face and crying out with lust and excitement as he dips his tongue between the folds of her womanhood to stroke her throbbing insides.
"...I'll swallow every drop you have, like a common peasant," she croaks with lust, a pleasured sob spilling forth from her lips as her pink orbs roll into the back of her skull. "...Just please, Goddess in heaven, Michael... Don't stop!"
And at Louise's passionate cry, she feels a loving laugh reverberate from Michael's throat.
His voice makes Louise's body tremble with lust as the pinkette squirms in place with a loud moan of elation, her petite form tensing as a surge of ecstasy rushes through her body and sets her nerves on fire.
"That's it, Louise..." Michael hums, freeing his mouth from her most sinful of places. "Good lass."
Her eyes wide, her breath ragged, the girl shivers and squeals with lustful delight, her bare backside lifting off the sheets as Michael's hands stroke along her back in a gentle, affectionate manner.
As Louise pants with longing, she can't help but whine softly and arch her back with a breathy gasp as the man's touch brings another pleasant tremor rushing through her petite frame, a loud moan bubbling forth from the back of her throat.
"...That was... perfect!" the pinkette chokes out, her voice breaking as her heart throbs in her chest. "G-Good Goddess... I love you so, so much..."
Chuckling, Michael leans in and presses his messy lips to Louise's tummy in a powerful, sloppy smack. "Love you too, Princess, love you too."
Exhausted from a long day of royal business and entertaining her special guests, Henrietta lays in her favourite ornately carved mahogany bath with a low, long exhale. Water-stained moonlight pools into the royal bathroom from its two large windows. The air in the chamber is chilled by night's chill, but warmed by the heated water in which she lounges.
"At last... peace," the princess utters to no one in particular, the beautiful young woman stretching in a satisfied, luxurious fashion.
Noticing her move, Henrietta's trusted maid Elisa, a round-faced, white-haired girl with pigtails, hurries over and bows her head.
"Is the bath to your liking, Highness?" Elisa asks.
The young woman sighs dreamily in response as a feeling of warm, wonderful contentment settles in her bones, her tired, aching muscles loosening beneath the pleasant heat.
"It is, Elisa, you need not worry," the princess whispers.
Her maid lets out a breath and straightens in relief. "Oh, thank heavens..." she utters with a half-bow.
"It is a wonder Mother doesn't faint on her feet if this is how busy she is each day," Henrietta remarks as Elisa fetches a soft towel from the nearby changing bench.
"I couldn't agree more, milady," the white-haired girl concurs with a nod as she makes her way over to the bed and stands there for a time, hands held together and head tilted to the side.
Henrietta's lips pull into a gentle, loving smile, and she nods in response. "But with you and Miranda here at my sides, and Louise close by, I feel I'll do just fine until she returns at the week's end."
Elisa gives her a bright, earnest smile. "I'll always do my utmost, Highness, this I swear!"
"You always do."
The maid hums in reply and hands her her towel.
"The time?" Henrietta inquires as she wraps it around her naked body and gets up.
"A minute to ten, Princess," the servant answers with a quick check out of the pocket watch, and the princess blinks in surprise.
"Truly? Goodness..." Henrietta utters in awe.
Elisa nods in response to her astonishment, a slight chuckle slipping free of her mouth at the same time.
"Surprised Miss Miranda is late with the post, Highness?" her maid asks, a teasing light flickering to life in the girl's eyes.
"Well, it is a rarity, for sure," Henrietta murmurs with a sheepish smile, her gaze drifting down to the soft, lush carpet as she feels a soft blush warm her cheeks.
"Shall I check if she has already arrived?" the servant girl asks next with a tilt of the head and Henrietta shakes her head in response.
"There is no need, we have already done so twice now," the young woman says with a smile as she moves toward a large wooden rack upon which her change of clothes sits, her maid at her side.
"As you say, Princess. Allow me to fetch your bustier and undergarments, then."
"Please do."
Elisa hurries ahead to retrieve the items as Henrietta finishes wiping down the rest of herself.
The door opens with a click at this point, and in walks Miss Miranda with a cloak of soft blue velvet about her shoulders. The middle-aged woman lets out a soft exhale as she pushes the door closed and locks it with a magical snap of her fingers.
"Forgive me for disturbing your bath, Highness, but I bring urgent news, news that cannot wait," the royal adviser declares in a rush as the woman reaches Henrietta's side, and the princess stares back in alarm.
"Please, Miranda, it's fine," she whispers in response as she turns her back to the woman and lifts the towel off of her naked, still-damp body.
Miranda pulls the cloak off and drapes it over the clothing rack.
Taking particular note of her mistress's still being wet, Elisa instead grabs a fresh towel and rushes over to dry the future monarch. "I'll fetch your clothes once you're properly dried, Princess," she follows with a hint of urgency. "We can't have you catching a cold."
Henrietta simply nods in agreement and lifts her arms so the white-haired maid can dry her.
"What has happened?" the princess inquires next as Elisa kneels to towel off her feet.
The older woman reaches into a hidden pocket of her dress and produces the sealed letter with a frown. "This arrived shortly after you departed for your bath, Highness, addressed directly to you from a Royalist messenger in Newcastle..." Miranda utters, her tone heavy and burdened. "As for its contents, well, suffice it to say it is... grave."
As if sensing the seriousness in the woman's tone, Elisa hurriedly finishes drying Henrietta's body and makes her way to the changing stand to grab the princess's nightgown.
In the meantime, the young monarch accepts the letter from the Royal Adviser's hands and, as Elisa slips her nightgown on over her head, turns the letter around to break its seal.
Then, unfolding it, Henrietta begins reading:
"To Princess Henrietta, Future Queen of Tristain, the bearer of this missive is tasked with informing you that yesterday at dawn, the last Royalist bastion in Newcastle fell and King Henri died in the fighting..."
Shaken to her core by this news, Henrietta takes a deep, shuddering breath before continuing:
"...It is with deep fear and regret that I Inform you of the dire truth: Nothing save the noble Prince Wales stands between Albion's nationalists and their complete domination of the country. He must be found, and the two of you must be wed. Only then can we avoid conflict between our nations."
At the bottom of the page is a seal, the familiar crest of the Royalist House of Albion.
Princess Henrietta swallows, a sudden chill washing over her as Miranda, noticing the drop in her mistress' composure, places a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"No word has reached us concerning your beloved Wales, Majesty, and so you must still hold out hope. So long as he yet lives, so does a chance for continued peace."
The young woman nods and swallows as heavy silence falls over the bathroom, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
After several moments, Henrietta releases a long, exhausted breath, a terrible weariness weighing upon her now as she slips the letter into the pocket of her nightgown and takes Miranda's hands.
"Thank you, Miranda. And I... I do hold onto that hope."
"As you say, my young charge," the woman says in response with a faint smile and a squeeze of her hands.
"...I am, however, beside myself with worry, as you can surely respect," the princess confesses as her hands drop to her sides and her gaze falls to the floor, her lips drawing into a small frown.
"As would anyone with the weight of the country upon them," her guardian and mentor adds softly. "Shall I fetch Miss Louise for you, Your Highness?"
Henrietta simply shakes her head and, at this, Elisa walks up from behind the princess with a pair of nighttime slippers.
"No, please don't, I have already asked far too much of her today," Henrietta returns in a quiet voice and with a heavy sigh as she slips the soft slippers on. "In truth, I feel as though I am exhausted, and yet... I do not wish to be alone."
"Shall I remain in your room tonight, Mistress Henrietta?" Elisa asks with a deeply respectful bow as the princess straightens her posture and brushes some loose strands of damp, dark violet hair from her face.
Henrietta simply nods thereafter, the corners of her mouth pulling into a sad smile.
"Yes, I would prefer that, if you don't mind," the future queen says softly. "I find that being in the company of another can be quite the balm to my worries."
"Of course, Princess, I'll gladly remain at your side," Elisa responds with a small, grateful curtsy.
"Then it is settled," Henrietta whispers as she begins walking, Elisa hurrying ahead to hold the door open.
Henrietta's footsteps ring out as she crosses the bathroom threshold and begins to walk, Elisa walking beside her in her heeled maid's shoes. Miranda follows after the two, falling in at Henrietta's left-hand side while Elisa is at her right.
"Please, Your Highness, focus on getting some rest," the elder of the trio advises with a gentle, almost motherly undertone. "Two days yet remain until your mother returns home, and you must remain steadfast in your duties until then."
"I will, Miranda, do not fret."
Miranda hums in acknowledgement as the trio steps outside and starts down the hallway.
...
Her body sluggish with fatigue and her mind ablaze with frets and fears, Henrietta falls against the silken sheets of her lavish four-poster bed with a shaky outward breath.
Ready at her side with a blanket, Elisa leans in and begins to unfold it over her, but the princess halts the girl by placing a gentle hand on her arm.
"No, no, do not bother yourself, I'll do this," the future queen declares quietly.
"Very well," Elisa relents, relinquishing the blanket to the princess with a faint, dutiful frown. "How may I be of service then?"
Henrietta reaches out and touches her shoulder. "Please, remain at my side: Talk with me."
Her servant girl swallows nervously but nods, and, with permission granted, takes a seat upon the edge of the princess' bed, a few feet from the young monarch.
"Your father," Henrietta begins somewhat carefully, a hint of sadness tinting her tone, "Is there any news regarding his whereabouts...?"
Elisa sighs softly in response and begins fiddling with her thumbs as a sombre expression comes over her face. "...I'm afraid not, milady, the city guards still have no leads... but!" The girl brightens up, the maid reaching out to pat Henrietta's hand in reassurance. "I-I chose to remain strong for his sake, and believe that he may someday return to me."
At the very least, such an outpouring of optimism from one so close to her does bring a faint smile to her lips.
"...I can only hope," Henrietta replies in kind, the princess releasing a weary, anxious breath as she lowers herself back onto the pillows at the head of the bed. "...And as much as I fear for what is to come, I truly do hope the best for you and your family."
"Thank you, Princess Henrietta, truly, I appreciate that," the young maid whispers. "As do I for you and your cherished Wales: I know he means an awful lot to you."
Henrietta feels the corners of her eyes grow wet. "T-That... That's..." she utters softly. "Yes... Elisa, he means so very much to me," she finishes, voice quivering slightly as chaotic emotions swell within her.
Elisa leans in at this, the white-haired girl resting a hand upon the princess's shoulder, and squeezing. "...You two shall be reunited soon, and the peace between our fair Tristain and Albion will endure," assures the maid in a low, hopeful tone. "I truly believe it so."
"...I do hope so, Elisa I do..."
Her servant girl simply smiles back in response and moves her hand down to rub the back of the princess's hand soothingly.
"...And yet," Henrietta murmurs after several moments of silence, and she pauses for a time, staring off at a window as she gathers her thoughts, "No matter what comes next, I fear I do not possess the strength to endure."
Elisa squeezes her hand and smiles sadly.
"...Then I'll help you to endure, as eternal gratitude for showing me, a mere commoner, such compassion by serving you," the young woman replies in an earnest, whisper.
Overcome with a warm, indescribably comforting sense of companionship in these difficult, trying times, a smile spreads across Princess Henrietta's lips, and, without warning, brings her arms around Elisa's shoulders and squeezes her tightly.
"...You are the only one aside from Louise and Miranda I can talk to like this, and for that, I am eternally grateful," Henrietta whispers, tears brimming in her eyes. "Never change."
"I-It is my eternal pleasure to support you, Princess," her maid says with an awkward giggle, and the young woman sighs contently. "And it always shall be."
Henrietta closes her eyes, and for a long, drawn-out moment, simply lays there, taking in the soothing sensation of the young girl's fingers stroking the back of her neck.
Under the cover of night's deep veil, Elisa hurries within the palace garden's hedge maze with a hammering heart and a nervous thumping to her heart.
"Goodness, I-I'm almost late," she whispers in a nervous, fearful tone to herself as she hastens her stride through the shadowy corridors of greenery, her fingers brushing against the hedge wall as she tries her hardest to remember the right way to go.
Eventually finding her way to the maze's very centre, the young lady lets out a trembling exhale, her heart racing from a mix of exhaustion, trepidation, and anxiety as she sits upon a stone bench, the soft night wind caressing her skin and playing with her white-grey hair.
"W-Why have I done this...?" the young maid murmurs, voice soft, barely audible over the nightly chorus of crickets as her face pales, and she brings a hand to her chest, squeezing her breast.
"Because that which you hold dearest hangs by a thread," Elisa is reminded by a cruel, shadowy voice as though a whisper on the wind.
And there, in an icy gust, appears a figure clad in a blackened cloak before her.
A man Elisa has the immense displeasure of knowing and for the worst possible reasons.
The man lifts his hood and reveals a white, porcelain opera mask, the bottom half of it concealed behind a black veil that sways in the evening wind, hiding the lower half of his face.
The woman swallows at the sight, her stomach sinking with fear as a dreadful washes over her.
"F-Felix..." the servant girl mutters as a dark, cold sense of unease settles into the pit of her belly and spreads through her like a venomous poison. "...W-What do you want from me this time...?"
"Silence," Felix interrupts the woman with a cutting remark as he lifts a finger to his masked mouth, and Elisa feels a shudder travel through her as she folds her arms behind her back.
"The time for you to act draws near, girl: The Viscount Wardes needs of you," the man declares next with a wave of his hand. "Alone with the princess, it's time to enact your part in our plan."
"And what will he do if I refuse?" Elisa asks with a small voice, her tone heavy and afraid as her heart thumps painfully against her ribcage. "P-Princess Henrietta is good to me, kind to me...!"
"...I think you know," Felix remarks with an audible smirk.
The young woman closes her eyes and shakes her head. "I have no choice, do I...?" she murmurs back.
"...It's only because of us, Elisa, that your father still lives," the masked agent remarks coolly. "And his remaining as such depends entirely on your cooperation."
Her hands squeeze into tight, trembling fists. "...If... I do as you ask, do you swear that no harm shall befall him...?" she asks, her voice fearful, timid. "I cannot... bear to lose him, he is all I have in this world."
"...You have our word," Felix states flatly. "And now, with our plans finally underway, we must all see our duties through, to ensure the Holy Order's retur- No, the birth of a new power - of Reconquista."
"...And when you rule this land, what then...?"
Felix pauses at this, Elisa feeling his eyes narrowing behind their mask in anger. "What our new lord shall do is none of your concern, girl. Just know that - should you dance like a good little marionette until we are done with you - that your father will be released."
"...Then I must accept your offer," she relents, the maid swallowing heavily. "I-If only so I might be with him again one day."
"A wise decision. You will act at the stroke of midnight, tomorrow.," Felix explains with an edge to his voice, the man bringing forth his right hand, upon which a small, dark gemstone necklace of an iridescent sort rests. "The Necklace of Holler: A dark relic and sister to Andvari's Ring, the power of which dispels magic - all accept the void. You will wear it for the task ahead."
Elisa takes the item into both hands and gazes at it thoughtfully. Its gem pulsates for many a moment as though matching her heartbeat.
Then, closing her palms around the necklace and bringing them to rest against her lap, Elisa nods her head.
"I-I will... do as you ask of me."
Felix's closes his palm and opens it out again, producing a small glass vial filled with a red-pink, almost-fluid-like liquid in a pulse of dark, otherwordly light. The item glows as though it has a life of its own.
"A special brew of Romalian Sonno mushrooms - an alchemical concoction," he explains to the maid. "Slip this into Miranda's nightly tea before setting out to subdue Henrietta. It will see the old wench sleep soundly for an entire night and day, perhaps two."
"A-As you wish," Elisa agrees, placing the newly-gifted necklace within the pocket of her apron. She then reaches out for the sleeping draught and takes it into both hands with another, far nervier bob of the dead. "A-And Henrietta...? When shall I act?"
"Just past midnight, when the two moons are at their highest in the sky," the dark, sinister man states next in an emotionless tone.
Elisa nods again as she pockets the bottle, her hands quivering. "V-Very well."
"Remember this, and remember it well, Elisa: Should you fail to complete your task, or should you attempt to escape from us... you shall never see your father alive again."
"...I-I know," the woman replies softly, her body shaking as tears well in her eyes.
"...Good girl."
With a final nod of affirmation, the black-cloaked man claps his hands together and fades away in a shimmer of dark purple light.
Elisa lets out a fearful whimper, her shoulders slumping forward, and her arms drawing in against her chest, feeling a wave of immense self-loathing and regret wash over her, threatening to consume her.
And, totally overwhelmed by it, she falls into her hands and knees.
"Forgive me, Princess... I have no choice..."
To be continued...
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