At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 04

The game carried on. Ethan was by no means a poor player, and he had a deft way of saving his pieces with a last-minute formation. But when it came down to it, she had to reluctantly (begrudgingly, resentfully) concede that the King was possessed of a certain genius. He was clever and adaptive, but more importantly, creative; he implemented two plans when it looked like one, and he seemed forever to be predicting Ethan's moves at least a few turns in advance.

And for all the uncaring she strived to exhibit, an apprehensive sort of impatience was beginning to itch away at her chest. When was this chess match going to end? He wanted to discuss something? The sooner he did, the less time it was required of her to bear his company, and the sooner she could pretend to be somewhere else... And more time to think about things on her own.

"An unfortunate quandary," sighed Ethan, fiddling with the first bishop he'd lost and eyeing its brother. His pieces were scanter now. "I can save it, but only by sacrificing my position - and my plans."

The King smiled, glancing at Alais. "Duke Ethan is far too protective of his pieces," he explained. "It's his greatest strength and his greatest weakness - I find it hard to take even a pawn without his interference, yet I have only to threaten one bishop and he retracts a strategy ten turns in the making."

Ethan laughed again. "Well, the pieces are important. Being too aggressive with them is a vice of its own, Your Majesty."

The King moved another piece. "And what do you think your vice is, princess? Are you too careful, or are you willing to make sacrifices when you need to?"

"You've phrased that question entirely in your favor," Ethan protested, but mildly.

She shifted in her seat, an uncomfortably out-of-place insertion (so she felt) between their back and forth - the King made her uncomfortable with his presence alone, this heightened by his strangely mellow demeanor when she knew what he was capable of - but she said nothing of it. It took effort enough to pin down a steady and polite tone even in so many words.

"Neither. Both have been inconsequential to me." Was that even her voice? How airy and unfettered it sounded. At this, she couldn't resist the touch of self-gratification, and the complementary relief, that she was doing something right for herself.

The real answer to this: a mix of both seemed to suit her best, depending on circumstances. She was, however, not of the frame of mind to enlighten His Majesty on anything she considered to be personal or private. If he still wanted an answer, even as casually as he'd posed his query, she could settle with tossing out something he might've already guessed. What vices had she? The ones which strung her along into this entrapment, for a start.

Her eyes were settled over the back of her hands, again, when she finally uttered, "Complacency. Negligence." He was probably intelligent enough to catch onto that which remained unspoken - her regret.

The King only smiled at her comment, but the expression lingered for a moment rather too long, as if he knew perfectly well what she was implying. She felt unease begin to fester again, under his cool gaze, but it was here that Ethan smoothly intervened.

"Alright, you've wheedled me enough," said the Duke. He sighed and finally inched his bishop forward diagonally. "There - I've made my sacrifice. Now who's willing to take risks?"

He succeeded in his objective - the King's attention turned back to the match at hand, and at once, a grin stole over his face, quite sly, but also genuine and pleased.

Ethan seemed to understand immediately. "You wanted me to do that!" he exclaimed, but he was smiling. "What a low trick, indeed, to call me out on my honor."

"And yet you fell for it all the same." The King slid his castle forward, where the bishop once stood, and now had a clear line to Ethan's king-piece. "Checkmate."

Ethan looked disgruntled, and studied the board to assure himself of this conclusion, but at length brought his hands together a few times. "Very well, I concede the game," he said, nudging the king-piece and letting it fall. "But you had better know that I won't fall for such a cheap parlor trick twice."

The King lounged back, clearly satisfied, and began cleaning up the pieces. "We'll see."

She noticed he had kept a fairly leisurely pace in his conduct despite the fact that he knew her to be waiting. Not that this surprised her, entitled as he was. But now his attention shifted, and he turned to fully regard her.

"Thank you for your patience."

A pause stretched out, rather uncomfortably. She had the impression that he was coming to some kind of decision.

Finally - "I'd like to apologize for my behavior. I know that means enormously little to you," he continued, "but it's a necessary first gesture. I do not regret my methods in securing your hand - and I doubt you'd believe me if I said so. But I do regret my attitude toward you, which could have been more...refined." That was an absurd euphemism if there ever was one, and judging by the twitch of his smile, he knew it too. "To that end, I would like to turn over a new leaf."

He seemed to consider, for a moment, and then pulled out a small box, laying it on the table with her reach. "I will have Prince Edmure taken down," he said. "And he will be buried."

For the first time since Alais took her seat, true and unmitigated emotion sparked across her features.

"I - really?" Although she couldn't completely shield the incredulity in her voice, the gesture had her blinking. She sat up a big straighter, carefully reaching out to accept the box with both hands. Something told her that she hadn't needed to open it to guess what was inside; she peeked nonetheless, confirming the strawberry brooch within, before closing the compartment in a slow and deliberate motion of hand. This was... unexpected, but she quickly batted away the alarming impulse to be relieved.

"Of course," said the King, still much too benignly for her comfort. It just didn't seem natural after all the cruelty he had shown to her, and yet his performance was seamless. "Is that amenable to you?"

Sea of salt, she chanted internally. As long as she upheld her guard, there could be no disappointment even if he were to show signs of being a (very) horrible person again.

All the same, she was in no position to reject the extended olive branch, and neither would it have been very smart (or conducive to living) to. Whether she felt the personal desire to, she couldn't say. But no matter how she spun it, there was no denying that this - however long this was meant to last - had to be a change for the better... from before. She glanced sidelong from the King to Duke Ethan, then swiftly back to the King, suspecting where this turn of leaf had come from; the Duke's expression remained neutral, but the way he stared off to the side was so studious that it might as well have been a confirmation of his investment.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." It was a truer response than 'yes' or 'no', considering that part of her feared still he was expecting something incommensurate in return. Even with her limited experience, however, she supposed it wasn't in his habits to give before he took.

"But what you did," she began with furrowed brows, then paused indecisively. "... was actually a little flattering." Even if the words were spoken more as a matter of fact than anything intrinsically light-hearted, it could have gone either way; but for the time being, she was made content enough with these token reprieves that she found more comfort in (even if just slightly) easing off on the torpor hanging over her than to express more of her grief.

The King smiled, the expression pleasantly softening his features. "Oh, it was flattery of the highest kind," he replied smoothly. "I think the impulsive quality of it all speaks for itself."

She already regretted broaching the topic, and chose not to dwell. "Was there more you wished to discuss?" she inquired, covering the top of the little box from view with her palm.

"Yes." The King folded his hands together, looking across the now barren chessboard at her. "Your grandfather has written back. He has agreed to give his blessings."

The tight knot of anticipation lodged in her throat, though there was actually a little less dread now with the knowledge that this arrangement was, however the circumstances, agreed upon by both parties. It wasn't as though she expected for her grandfather to refuse in the first place. Methodology aside, there was nothing inherently undesirable about the proposition on paper - which, ironically enough, made those very methods seem all the more ridiculous. And yet, there was a certain dreaded finality to the arrangement now, one that she could not ignore even in denial.

His next words were almost matter-of-fact. "We will be married tonight, by way of a small ceremony. The grander and more public wedding will follow later."

Her inscrutable staring persisted. Married tonight. She wasn't ready - a few more months, she was meant to have just a few more months. "...Congratulations," was all she managed, wanly, feeling silly as she said it.

He studied her. "I know it is - soon. But trust me when I say it will be safer for you this way. There are..." He considered his choice of words, and an amused smile twisted his lips. "There are those who would desire to be Queen in your place, and they are not without their dangers."

The subterfuge made sense. Expression grim, she gave a slight nod to indicate her understanding. (Why didn't he just appease one of those would-be Queens? No she knew why, and it had to do with a certain vale.) It certainly explained why he isolated her from courtly contact, which, to be fair, carried as much value as an act of mercy as being strategically sound. In spite of certain stubbornness, there was a resounding notion clamoring for attention in her head that this was not... as bad as it could've been.

And now the outlined agenda gave life to an entirely new realm of mystery. Her fingers fidgeted again with the box. "I still don't know - what does it mean to be Queen in my place?"

She'd waited on enough queens - had certainly been taught the standards of expectation. But those were simply mere standards; logically, there would have been some discussion over the matter before the wedding day, at least. The King's unrefined (in his words) attitude defied all preconceptions. Did he expect her to maintain a presence at his court? To wait on him? To dote on him? Lovingly?

He still intimidated her - frightened her. She did not know if theirs could be a marriage of affection, but at least he would get his vale.

"The role of the Queen will be largely ceremonial," the King replied. The phrasing of this seemed specific - not is ceremonial or was ceremonial, but will be ceremonial; from her experience, different Queens carved out different degrees of power, which was largely dependent on individual ambitions and their influence over their husbands. The King's late mother had wielded substantial power herself, attending council meetings and all but ruling in his father's absence. But she suspected it was not in his nature to think of sharing his power or letting himself be influenced, and it did not occur to him to offer.

"You will be in attendance at Court, and at various formal events. I will expect you to behave with grace and decorum, in representing the Crown," he continued, but almost lightly, "which I doubt will be a problem." He tapped his fingers reflectively. "Other than that, you will have plenty of freedom to pursue your own interests. In terms of material needs, I can assure you that you will want for very little."

So, glorified pet was the right of it. Then again, if her role was to be just as he described - and that was a large "if," as she didn't trust him one bit - it didn't seem so bad. She was still terribly vexed for the circumstances of their engagement, and it'd be a while yet before she could share the same breathing air as him without all her nerves and tendons stiffening up as an automated response - but ultimately... this was endurable. Even the obligatory childbearing. No one could be that oblivious, and the only way to have avoided this, regardless of who her betrothed may be, was to have committed herself to a cloister.

Alais really, really wasn't so desperate.

The King seemed poised to speak further, but they were interrupted as the creak of the door sounded.

It was a soldier who paced in, sketching a quick bow as soon as he was within view. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but an urgent message just came from Hampstead's Outpost, and I was told to deliver it at once." He held out a roll of parchment.

The King rose immediately, and she stiffened just slightly as he moved past her - towering height and all - to take the message. He unfurled it and read it over, his eyes rapidly scanning the words there, and then abruptly putting it away. "I'm afraid I have to cut this meeting short," he said, his manner a little distracted. He did spare the time, however, to turn back to her, his more indulgent disposition still intact. "Have you any other requests of me?" He smiled faintly. "Within reason, of course."

It was probably within reason to call this whole thing off and deliver her safely back to Vvaria, but he likely meant reasonable for him.

Her gaze fell back down to the box nested in her hands. If she was meant to reside in this palace permanently, there were probably more than a few possessions worth requesting for - things from home. And yet, for all her simple attachments, she lacked the heart to have anything brought here, for fear of tainting that which she onced treasured. Nor could she find it within herself to ask that anyone be summoned, though there were probably at least one or two ladies (previously) in her service who might've considered the excursion something of an adventure. No, no, all out of the question.

There was one thing, the thing which immediately popped into mind after he'd posed his question. The brief delay was for her indecision on the matter, until finally, just before he might have taken her silence as an answer of its own: "My falcon. If Your Majesty finds it within reason, I'd like to have him with me some day," she responded distantly. No urgency. Part of her still felt poorly for the notion of splitting Gretka and Ser Swoops-a-Lot (Ser Swoops for short) apart again; more selfishly, it'd be nice to have something to look forward to.

"Of course. I will have him sent for at once," he replied, managing to sound almost gallant about the whole thing. He must have sensed her hesitation in other matters, for he continued, "And you have plenty of time to consider other requests, naturally. I look forward to hearing them."

He rolled up the scroll in his hands. "I'll see you tonight."

A passing glance was shared with his friend, but nothing spoken aloud. He made his departure, his steps echoing heavily against the floor and out the double doors.

The messenger followed him out, leaving Ethan alone sitting there with her. As Ser Bryant shifted forward, to escort her back, the Duke shook his head a little. "A moment, if you would," he said, and though his manner was quite soft-spoken, apparently his word carried weight; Bryant nodded at once, and removed himself to give them privacy.

A moment, was it? For what? She had every reason to remain cautious, even if Duke Ethan did seem remarkably genuine. But it also wasn't a bad thing, to entertain company who was, for the first time in a while, not the King.

Ethan met her gaze. "I would like to offer you some advice."

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Authors: As we mentioned, Ch. 5 should be out soon if it's not out already! And if you like this series, we always appreciate your votes/favorites/comments!