At His Majesty's Pleasure

Authors: Thank you for your patience, as always! Since my (Scarlett's) bar exam is over and work won't start until late September, I'm going to have a ton of free time for the next one and a half months to work on this story (and harass Daisy to do the same). With that in mind, we're going to aim for: (1) more frequent updates - at least a chapter per week, and (2) muuuch faster replies to your comments. As of now, we're partway through Chapter 12 and should submit it within a few days! After we finishing Chapter 12, it will be catchup time with comments.

Thanks again for hanging in there! Enjoy!

*****

"This is Evelyn. Their...cousin."

Cousin?

As far as Alais was aware, the Princess only had two brothers, and one of them was living the ascetic life of a monk. Though even without that detail, it was a foregone conclusion who the father was - Adeline had spoken much too delicately (no doubt to hide the awkwardness of the situation) for it to be anyone else.

It was

his

daughter. His bastard daughter - he'd never married before. When had he planned on telling her about this? If ever?

Alais couldn't help directing her gaze back to the girl with a sharper burst of curiosity.

Evelyn had lowered her eyes. There was a touch of color in her cheeks, as if in anticipation of some kind of judgment; young as she was, she must have been subject to the subtly disapproving stares that being a bastard warranted.

It would probably not have been out of place, indeed, for Alais to react with shocked indignation or scandalized outrage - she could think of a few women of her acquaintance who might have even fainted. But for Alais, it was not quite disapproval that dominated her emotions, but pity. The King was terrible, yes, but Evelyn had nothing to do with that, or the circumstances of her birth.

And so, after a few moments, all that she summoned was a kind smile.

"Oh, hello. The King is your father, then?" she asked amiably. Her expression smoothed, making a show of appearing completely unbothered by the connotations of Evelyn's very existence.

The girl peeked shyly at her, a glimmer of surprise sparked in her eyes. She stared some more, before belatedly answering with a quick nod of her head.

Adeline was watching her, and if she was not mistaken, there was a touch of respect that briefly shown in her expression. She smiled as well. "And this is Her Majesty, Queen Alais. I told you you'd get to meet her soon, didn't I?"

The children stared at her even more.

"Were you born a Queen?" William asked brightly.

"That's not how it works," his brother preempted.

"How would you know?"

"Because I listen to my lessons!"

"Oh shush, you," said Adeline, bouncing them on her knee again. "She was a princess but your uncle chose her to be Queen, that's all."

Alais smiled patiently as her host appeared otherwise occupied with her sons, careful to bottle up the extent of her own... distracted state. A few times, when no one was looking, Jasper had tried to steal a glance or two of her in some emboldened attempt to catch eye contact to whatever ends. She could not deal with him right now. There was the princess, the imps on her lap, and now the bastard - though to be fair, hadn't she already decided she couldn't care less about her husband's affairs?

But it

was

a massively awkward elephant in the room. She couldn't

not

address this elephant, as much as she felt that ever convenient detachment from the traditions of her role.

She folded her napkin on the table, signalling the end to her main course, though much of the food on her plate remained unfinished. Her hands lowered to her lap, and she eased against the back of her richly carved seat, her eyes drifting peaceably back to the girl.

The words which followed were calm, for all their abrupt frankness. "Evelyn, I can't be your stepmother." Alais was perceptive enough to address her as equals, of a sort, or perhaps she was unable to do otherwise; she was not accustomed to handling children. "I can't believe either of us would be able to take that seriously," she continued with a gentle lilt, "but... we can still be friends. You're free to call me by name, if you like. All of you are. I don't - even feel like a 'Majesty' yet."

She didn't even feel as though she were in a proper

marriage

yet - more like an accessory. While the life of an accessory needn't be inglorious, here, in this very beginning, she also needn't pretend to be more than she was.

Evelyn continued to peer at her silently for a few moments. She didn't look all that much like the King, actually - her hair was lighter and features more soft - but there was a quiet look of intelligence in her bright blue eyes that was familiar. "I'd like to be friends," she ventured. Her brows knitted in curiosity, though. "Why don't you feel like a 'Majesty'?"

"Well, it's all very new," said Adeline, goodnaturedly. "If someone made you a Queen right this moment, wouldn't you need some time to get used to it?"

"I suppose," said Evelyn.

"I know it must feel very sudden and disorienting," continued Adeline, directing this to Alais now. "I don't blame you! But I'm sure you'll feel like a Queen before long. I have a feeling the formal reception tomorrow will help - it's quite a grand affair, and many people will be coming to pay their respects to you." She sighed, slightly, as if slightly envious of the attention her companion would receive.

Alais was a little less comfortable upon hearing about the

grand affair

, her hands wrapping about her steaming cup as she brought her tea to her lips, drinking slowly - almost hiding behind it, in a way. "... Thank you." For what it was worth, the sincerity was there. On a different day, the princess's effusiveness may have been enough to make her head spin, but for now, it was oddly endearing. A refreshing contrast to Alexander's... Alexanderness.

"And a delightful sentiment, also, about the names!" Adeline added. "We should all become the best of friends - Alais." She caught her guest's eye with a smile. "And, of course, you can call me Adeline."

"Can we call you Adeline?" Edward piped up, between his chewing.

"No, silly, I'm your mother," chided Adeline lightly. She caught Evelyn eyeing the remnants of the dinner, and waved her over. "Are you hungry still? Of course you are, you never eat enough. Come, have some of this pecan pie - it's absolutely delicious."

It didn't seem that Adeline treated Evelyn one jot differently because of the bastard status either. She fussed quite affectionately over her niece as she sliced a piece for her.

"Oh have you heard, by the way?" she chattered, as if recollecting something. "Two knights have already ridden out to come save you, while you were away!" She couldn't help a slight giggle. "It's really such a romantic sentiment, but it's so foolish of them. What an awful way to die."

Alais nearly choked on her beverage. "I don't - " she stammered out, a hand to her collar as she attempted to recover from her coughs.

Why would they do that.

Two knights? Against an entire nation? What did they think they could accomplish? Were they soft in the head? This was a special level of secondhand embarassment, to say the least. Her cheeks were a touch flushed by the time she finally managed, "... They were from Toussaint, weren't they. I wish they wouldn't."

"Oh yes, Toussaint. Did you hear of it already?" Adeline asked. "I suppose it's fairly characteristic of them." She giggled again. Perhaps some of her brother's insensitivity had rubbed off, or perhaps this was a normal reaction for Obsivians in general. "It's a shame. I heard they put up a great fight."

They

would

be from Toussaint, and knowing Toussaint, there would probably be more in their wake. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Grounded news could not spread faster than rumors, and no doubt the more far-reaching rumors about the land still had more to do with her being kidnapped than her being made, gracefully, a Queen. It was hard to quite blame them for it.

Another in her shoes might have been flattered.

"Truth be told, I don't mind them so much - those who attack us out in the open, that is," continued Adeline. "It's the

unseen

enemies that are so much more of a headache."

"Oh?" said Alais. "Are there very many of them?"

The princess sighed. "The court is filled with snakes in the grass.. Oh, they simper and smile well enough, but they'd happily slit each other's throats to have a little better taste of power. And a few have, you know,

vendettas.

" At Alais's arched brow, she added, "Oh, you know how my brother is - excellent at making enemies."

"The peasants seemed very taken with him," Alais observed.

"The peasants are horribly easy to please, if one but takes the trouble," Adeline sniffed. "Feasts, propaganda, and spectacles in the arena - they're content with anything he does so long as he provides for them. Not so the noblemen."

"I imagine in expanding power, one must carve it out from the shares of another," speculated Alais.

Adeline nodded. "And some are less fond of carving than others. Most of them are dissuaded, of course. His rather...disproportionate punishments see to that. But there are always a few who think themselves canny enough to avoid justice."

Alais ruminated on this for a few moments. "I see."

"Oh, here I am speaking of politics on our first evening together," said Adeline, shaking her head at herself. "Let us put such boring matters away. Tell me, Alais - how do you like to spend your time? My brother said you like to play cards?"

Alais laughed a little. "Now and then," she answered. "I suppose there's also embroidery, reading - the usual things one might come to expect. Falconry. Witchcraft." She smiled to show she was joking on the last point. Which she was, of course. Mostly.

Adeline smiled. "Oh, if only! A witch would be terribly fascinating, wouldn't it? I sometimes wish they hadn't all been purged. It seems an awful waste. But I enjoy reading also. What kind of literature do you peruse?"

Before Alais could answer, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Moments later, the slaves propped it open.

It was none other than the King. "I hope I'm not interrupting," he said, pleasantly.

Her reaction might have been described as dull gaping, a touch of something bordering on

accusational

in her eyes. He hadn't told her he had a child. A daughter. A bastard daughter. No one did. Honestly, even if she didn't mind that he had one,

she would have liked to have known.

His arrival prompted immediate reactions from others in the room as well. The guards straightened to attention, and the slaves, in the midst of clearing their plates, lowered their gazes quickly. As for the children -

"Uncle Alexander!" the boys cried out, nearly in unison. They struggled and dislodged themselves from Adeline's grip, bumbling (with varying grace) toward the King, their tiny arms outstretched to greet him.

"My, have you gotten taller?" The King swept them up at once, balancing one on either arm, so that he was wreathed in gleeful toddlers. They grabbed his shoulder for support, no hesitation in their smiles of delight, and Adeline watched with easy fondness. Nothing about it suggested that the same man could be responsible for any number of atrocities or genocides; the picture they painted was quintessentially and absurdly

normal

. Alais's stare, then, graduated into that of blatant confusion, as if the sight of him being so good with the children defied some fundamental facet of logic.

"I grew more than William," Edward boasted, at once.

"But I'm still taller," William asserted quickly, almost speaking over him.

"Hmm. We'll have to measure both of you, to be absolutely certain. We can't rely on hearsay, can we?" said Alexander lightly. His gaze shifted to Evelyn, who grinned up at him.

Belatedly, she dipped into a curtsy that didn't quite suit her - glancing at Adeline as she did, so that there was no mistake where her coaching had come from. "Father."

"So formal, Evelyn." He gave his nephews an extra bounce, high, so that they squealed in surprise, and then set them down, opening his arms to her. "Come."

Evelyn hesitated, but then abruptly abandoned her attempts at decorum and rushed to him in turn, hugging his neck.

"I think you've grown taller too," the King remarked, holding her back to give her a look over. "Yes, definitely."

"You've only been gone only a little while," Evelyn replied, but with a small smile.

"Which makes it all the more impressive." He rose, resuming his standing height, and looked to the two women sitting at the dinner table. "I see you've all been acquainting yourselves with the new Queen, sly politicians that you are. Have they been well-behaved, Alais?"

A natural smile flitted across her lips, betraying nothing. "Aside from catching me by surprise, they were the light of the day," was her seamless reply. "All of them," she added casually between sips.

"Edward's lighter me," asserted William, quickly and likely not after having actually thought about it.

"That's not - that's not what light means," returned Edward, making a face. Then he began to second-guess himself, as he resorted to staring wide-eyed at "Uncle Alexander" and his sage-like wisdom for validation.

If the King noticed that touch of accusation in her gaze (and he probably did, annoyingly observant as he was), nothing showed in his face to acknowledge it. He merely looked blithely back at her, as if nothing in the world could be wrong - he even went so far as to flash a pleasantly cheerful smile in return, the bastard (no pun intended).

In any case, he was turning his attention back to the children, and their questions. "Neither of you are wrong," he said, and with the same avuncular affection, he reached out to ruffle Edward's hair. "Words often have multiple meanings. 'Light' can indeed mean, as William said, the opposite of heavy. But the Queen used it more poetically, to remark that you lit up her day - that is to say, you brought her great joy and delight. Is she not kind to say so?"

"So it

is

good to be lighter," Edward said to William, who wrinkled his nose.

"She really is kind!" Adeline piped up agreeably. "I do declare that if you had to..." she paused, hedging around the word, in front of both polite company and the children "...if you had to

find

yourself a Queen, at least you could not have chosen better!"

"I'm glad to hear you're getting along so well," the King said, somewhat wryly.

"Uncle, how

did

you find her?" William asked curiously.

The King uttered a short laugh. "That's a long story," he answered, mildly. "A story for another day," he clarified, when their curiosity intensified. Sensing more questions forthcoming, he chose to distract them. "Oh - I almost forgot. I've brought some presents for all of you."

"All of us?" Edward echoed excitedly, the other topic immediately banished from his mind at this happy prospect.

"He spoils them terribly," Adeline remarked in an undertone to their guest, though with a smile.

The gifts, as it turned out, were not terribly lavish or grand, though they were foreign and peculiar: delicate porcelain cats, painted in painstaking detail and gleaming with polished smoothness. "These are trinkets from the Queen's home," the King explained, as he handed one to each of them - a mischievously grinning cat for Edward, an adorably ferocious one for William, and a feminine model for Evelyn (outfitted with a great big pink bow). "You see?" he said, reaching out to push at Edward's cat, so that the paw began to wave furiously at them. "There."

William pushed at his in the same way, mimicking the motion, and both boys looked fairly pleased with their new toys. Alais did notice, though, how Evelyn wrinkled her nose at the bow, and looked enviously at William's cat in turn.

She had retreated into silence, hiding away behind the (unconvincing) barrier of her teacup until she's sipped it dry, leaving nothing but soaked leaves and herbal figments against the fine porcelain. She stared down into the bottom of her cup, almost as though ruefully blaming it for the lack of distraction she now uncomfortably found herself in want of.

It wasn't that she'd relapsed into that state of being such a miserable waif of an unwilling wife. It was ... some combination of Jasper ferrying plates away, no longer in possession of the daring to even attempt to sneak glances at the new Queen (the King's entrance might have had something to do with it), and the children. The children made for awkwardly benign company while she was still adjusting to the lower key ramifications of being abducted, forcibly married, and ravished. It almost shouldn't have been right that his family dynamics could be so pleasant and innocent.

"Oh, they're so cute," Adeline was remarking, leaning over her sons to get a better look. She laughed. "I can't imagine you picking those out, Alexander." She glanced at Alais. "Are those terribly common? They're not also from Toussaint?"

"I've only ever seen them made in the capital," Alais responded. "The artisans can be... particular about them." A slight smile graced her lips. "I'd amassed a collection over the years. Slight shame I had to leave it all behind."

William arranged his figurine such that it began repeatedly batting Edward's over the head. Edward frowned, deliberating over whether to scoot his bounty away or to shift its angle in (strategic) retaliation. He chose the latter, and now the cats were thumping away at one another with equal clout. William giggled with childish amusement.

Eyes drifting over them, Alais cleared her throat. "...they're actually more durable than they look."

"Still," cautioned Adeline, "you boys be careful with those cats. They'll break if you hit them too hard, and you wouldn't want that, would you!"

It did have to be her to warn them, instead of the bearer of gifts himself - the King, true to form, did not seem overly concerned with his nephews' potentially destructive use of the toys. He laughed, looking upon them fondly. "Oh, let them play, Adeline. I have more."

William heeded his uncle's words more readily than his mother's - particularly since it aligned with his own interests - and continued to wield his toy offensively. On the other hand, Edward pulled his cat away after a moment, looking down at it with a careful eye.

Meanwhile, Alais remembered something. "Your Majesty, where is Ser Swoops-a-Lot?"

"Ser Swoops-a-Lot?" Adeline inquired.

"Her falcon," the King explained. "And yes, thank you for reminding me. I've had him brought to our rooms for you. If my sister would consent to parting with your company, would you like to come see him?"

"Very much." News of the damn bird brought more raw and pure delight to her eyes than anything in the past week. Alais continued to sit still with all her grace intact nonetheless, tilting her head in gratitude for the offer.

"You're leaving?" said Evelyn, the boys looking mournfully over her shoulder.

Alexander smiled benevolently down at them. "You'll see plenty of me later. Besides, you should be off to bed anyway, should you not?"

"Oh yes!" declared Adeline, glancing belatedly at the old grandfather clock near the door. "You're way past your bedtimes, all of you. Tricky little things." She picked up her handkerchief, waving Evelyn over so she might wipe her mouth; she obeyed, reluctantly. "It was very good to meet you, Alais," she added, cheerfully. "We simply must do this again."

"Goodnight, Adeline," she returned in all apparent sincerity, "Meeting you has made me feel ... better. About everything."

Adeline beamed at her, and then prodded, "Say goodnight, children."