A Whore for the Ing

This is the final chapter in the story of King Harold, Queen Alana, and Sarah the Whore. It has taken many twists and turns, but the one constant is the powerful erotic attraction between them. This isn't how their story ends, just how it transitions to a new form. All characters are adults over 18.

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Things got better before they got worse.

Queen Alana got pregnant a second time. Her delivery of another boy prompted widespread celebrations. "An heir and a spare!" became the phrase of the day as subjects recognized that if anything prevented Crown Prince Phillip from inheriting the throne, that job would pass to his little brother. The new infant was named Prince Oliver, and the royal mint issued gold coins with Phillip's likeness on one side and Oliver's on the reverse.

The next harvest was bountiful, and it began to seem that good times would only get better. Things are never so simple, of course, but it was a pleasant thing to imagine.

King Harold and his ally King Swelt announced work would begin on a new castle located outside a village near their shared boundary. It would be larger than the two current castles combined, and construction would take more than a decade. The hope was that it would be ready before Prince Phillip had to wear the two crowns of the united kingdoms. Residents of the village where the palace would be built were excited by the economic development that would occur as workers moved to town and construction began. Madame Alice found investors to provide capital for a fine new whorehouse there.

Kings Harold and Swelt also announced a new initiative to cooperate on a shared program of financial growth. Since Harold's subjects had developed an admirably efficient network of creameries, they would work to build a similar network in Catacan. Likewise, Catacan's goat farmers had established herds on numerous sites where the land was not suitable for cattle. Work would commence on a plan to transplant a number of these goats to similar territory in King Harold's realm.

King Swelt obtained permission to send homeless children to Lady Sarah's growing orphanage, and King Harold made plans for his entire family to visit Catacan so Phillip and Oliver could become better acquainted with their maternal grandparents.

Things were good. Too good. Too good to last.

Queen Alana had never been the kind of woman who enjoyed outdoor activities. She did not go on hunting or fishing expeditions, and she didn't care for archery, bowling, or horseshoes. She realized that as the mother of two increasingly boisterous boys, she needed to cultivate an interest in some activity she could do with her children as they grew. Sir Robert suggested that she take riding lessons, and the queen found she enjoyed trotting through the countryside on the back of a powerful horse.

One afternoon Alana and several other ladies from court went on a ride down a path through the forest. They were escorted by armed guards capable of protecting them from most threats, but what they encountered was unexpected. Queen Alana's mare came upon a wolf. The predator growled threateningly, causing the horse to rise up on its rear legs and gallop down the path.

Queen Alana managed to hold on for a time, but she hadn't been taking lessons long, and she was unable to remain in the saddle as her horse bolted down the path. She smashed her head against the rocky ground and sustained a grievous head wound.

The guards managed to get the queen back to the castle quickly, and they summoned the doctor, but Alana was mortally injured and never regained consciousness. She passed that afternoon. It was shocking that a woman who'd been healthy and happy at dawn was cold and dead by sundown.

For the second time, Harold was widowed. His fondness for his wife had grown. Seeing Queen Alana with their two children touched a part of his heart that had never held feelings before. Everyone had allowed themselves to believe God Almighty had blessed Harold and his rule, and it seemed especially shocking that His favor had been withdrawn so suddenly.

The funeral showed that Queen Alana's reputation had been completely rehabilitated since the days when she was blamed for what everyone called "the Curse of the Queen." The people who spoke heaped lavish praise on Alana for the kindnesses she'd bestowed on everyone from her husband and children to the commoners who worked in the castle. No mention was made of her initial truculence, the unfortunate incident with Lady Sarah, or the time she was confined in the tower. It was as if those unpleasant events had never occurred.

The period of mourning passed with glacial slowness. Thoughts of sorrow and pain persisted for months. The people of Catacan had come to enjoy the notion that one of their princesses was a celebrated queen of a powerful kingdom. News of her passing caused a special kind of remorse. Her parents were grateful that she left behind two grandsons.

King Harold's remorse was also of a special kind. His relationship with Alana had encompassed bright, shining glories as well and deep, dark sorrows. He'd hated her and loved her. She'd been a burden and a blessing. He'd never known anyone like her before, and he was certain he'd not see another like her again.

There was only one good thing to say about the queen's passing. Alana's time in the kingdom had been stormy, and she'd known how it felt to be despised. But at the time of her death, Alana knew she was loved. She was loved by her husband, children, subjects, and even by her former rival, Lady Sarah. No one regretted the state of their relationship with the queen at the time of her untimely death. No words were left unsaid. No feelings were unresolved.

Prince Phillip was devastated, of course, but Prince Oliver was too young to understand what had transpired. He would have no memory of his mother. Queen Mother Eunice immediately took charge of raising the boys. It made her feel young again. More alive. More invested in day to day affairs. King Harold was relieved that she was still vigorous enough to take on the responsibility for two very young boys.

On the first anniversary of Queen Alana's death, Sir Robert met with the king.

"Sire, we need to find you a bride," he said. "The kingdom needs a queen, and choosing one presents several tempting opportunities for strategic and economic gain. Your reputation as a wise and powerful sovereign has never been stronger. There are many royal families who would be thrilled to provide you with a wife."

Harold should have expected this.

"Jesus, Joseph and Mary!" he said. "I've had two wives already. I don't want another one! I can't withstand the pain of losing another one. Sarah gives me more joy and peace than any wife could hope to. The situation is fine as it is. I don't want to change it."

Sir Robert let out an exaggerated sigh. "With all due respect, your highness, what you want is not all that needs be considered. Every kingdom you can name is anxious to form an alliance with you. Several places facing military threats from their neighbors know that signing a pact with you would put an end to the possibility of any future invasion. Our neighbors control resources and wealth that would be of great benefit. And let me add that some of the women in question are great beauties. They could provide wonderful companionship and many more children. You can never have too many children, majesty."

There was truth in that last part. Harold loved his two boys. The idea of having more children appealed to him, although nothing else Sir Robert said held any appeal at all.

"Sir Robert, I have a suspicion. Tell me if I'm right," Harold said. "You've already compiled a list of candidates, haven't you? You already have names of girls you'd like me to consider. Am I correct about that?"

"Of course you are, sire!" Sir Robert said, reaching into the cabinet behind him and taking up a large sheet of parchment. "Here are six girls you should invite to the castle so you can get to know them and their families. I am quite sure that at least one of them would please you."

"But there's a problem here, and you know what it is," King Harold said. "Remember how Queen Alana reacted to the presence of Sarah? I refuse to go through anything like that again. Sarah will always be first in my heart. That's not the kind of thing a young queen is likely to tolerate."

"On the contrary, your highness! They have been informed of this special circumstance, and it is not a barrier to matrimony! They have all agreed in advance!"

"Agreed in advance? What the.... Have you been talking to these kingdoms already? Jesus Christ in Heaven, Sir Robert! Have you been pimping me out!?"

"Nothing of the sort, my king! Sire, this is the way these things are done. It would not serve your interests if I did not make arrangements such as this in advance.

"I would like to point out that Queen Alana's opposition to Sarah was based in part on the fact that Sarah was a commoner with no official place in your circle. Today Lady Sarah is a respected aristocrat who serves as your official consort and wears a ring bearing the royal seal. She sits by your side at ceremonial events and church services. Her place in court is assured.

"I would personally make certain that any candidate you consider would understand that Lady Sarah's standing is not negotiable," Sir Robert said.

Sir Robert looked at the king and grew serious. "I want to make sure your majesty understands the nature of Lady Sarah's reputation. She is the founder of an orphanage that stands as a monument to her kindness, intelligence, and creativity. She is universally considered to be a harbinger of good luck; anytime anything good happens in this kingdom, she gets the credit, and when something bad happens she never gets the slightest share of blame.

"Most of all, she presides over a weekly prayer service that routinely draws more than one hundred poor souls desirous of healing. As we speak, there are innumerable people who tell everyone they meet that they recovered their health because of divine intervention facilitated by Sarah.

"Your highness, I think it's very likely that Lady Sarah will be nominated for sainthood someday. I can't say that of anyone else in this kingdom. Sire, no one is stupid enough to pick a fight with Lady Sarah. They know how that went the last time."

"Hmmm. Sainthood? Really? Do you really believe that?" King Harold asked.

"I do, sire. She is beloved, and there are countless people who claim she performs miracles on a weekly basis. The children in her orphanage already consider her to be a saint. All those children are going to grow up someday and describe Lady Sarah in the most glowing terms ever applied to mortals. I would be worried if Lady Sarah was the kind of person tempted to abuse the trust so many people have placed in her. You know I'm not a man who believes in things like miracles, but I do believe in facts, and the fact is there's never been anyone like Lady Sarah in the history of England."

"My my. I share the bed of a saint. The Lord has certainly smiled on me. No wonder I enjoy her companionship so much. I would go so far as to say our time together is heavenly," Harold said. "You know, it could be argued that Sarah performed a miracle when she helped me consummate my marriage to Alana. Do you think the church would call it miraculous that she resurrected my limp, useless cock?"

Sir Robert wondered why King Harold was so prone to taking serious conversations and turning them toward frivolity. It was happening more often with each passing year.

"Perhaps you could implore the pope to write a treatise on that question," Sir Robert said.

"I'd be happy if one of the cardinals would do it," Harold said.

"I doubt that Lady Sarah would agree," Sir Robert said.

"I suppose you're right. Let's shelve that idea for now. Questions of canonization are best saved for times after the person is no longer alive. Dead people know how to behave in those kinds of proceedings. I'm sure being nominated for sainthood would be very flattering, but it would be unseemly for the candidate to appear to lobby for it."

"I don't remember how we got on this topic," Sir Robert said.

"I do. You brought it up," King Harold said. "I wasn't the one who speculated that Lady Sarah might be a saint. I'm an innocent bystander. All I did was respond to a query posed by you."

"Could we talk about prospective brides?" Sir Robert asked.

"If we must," the king responded.

They reviewed all six names. Sir Robert was correct; each woman came with advantages of one sort or another. The potential alliances were promising. Large amounts of wealth were at stake. Vast tracts of land. All of the girls were said to be attractive, and two were considered to be great beauties.

King Harold found himself to be exhausted after they finished the list. "I'm ready for a glass of brandy," he said. "It's hard work talking about women as though they are breeding stock."

Sir Robert poured two glasses. "Here's to your health and long life, your highness," he said.

Harold took a drink, then leaned back in the chair. "After all these years, I think it's time for you to start calling me Harold," the king said.

Sir Robert looked horrified. "No! Never! You are my king, and I shall always call you my king! I can't believe I heard those words pass your lips!"

"Forget I said it. It was just an idea. We won't speak of it again," Harold said, laughing. "You possess a reassuring consistency, Sir Robert. It is a comfort."

"My only goal is to serve," he said.

"Then serve me another brandy," the king replied.

Harold promised to reflect on their discussion. The prospect of inviting teenage women to the castle and conducting what amounts to interviews for the job of queen made him feel tired. He wondered how Sarah would react. She'd never expressed anything remotely resembling jealousy over his marriage to Alana. Harold remembered that Sarah's main reactions were fright and dread - feelings that turned out to be well founded. The idea of exposing her to that kind of situation again appalled him. He would have to discuss it with her, and he dreaded the idea of saying anything that could revive those long-dormant fears.

A few days later he went back to the office of Sir Robert.

"I've made up my mind. About getting married," the king said.

"Already? You've settled on a candidate?" Sir Robert said.

"I have indeed. My mind is made up," Harold said.

"I will marry Sarah."

Silence. Sir Robert was stunned. "Sire... that is not possible," he said.

"Of course it's possible. I'm the king. I decide what is possible and what isn't."

"Majesty, Lady Sarah was born a commoner. Such people do not marry royals. It just isn't done."

"Is there a law that prohibits me from marrying an aristocrat who was born a commoner?"

"Well... no... but I don't think this is something determined by some law. Being a royal requires that you conform to tradition. To precedent. What you propose is unprecedented."

"That's the best part about it," the king said. "You said it yourself. Sarah is the most beloved person in my kingdom. People already think she's a saint. My subjects would be overjoyed at the prospect of her as their queen. She was once a commoner just like them. Knowing they might grow up and someday sit on a throne would fire the imaginations of every little girl in this kingdom."

"But it precludes the possibility of using marriage to form alliances that would strengthen your kingdom," Sir Robert said.

"Not at all," King Harold said. "I have two sons who will have to get married someday. I happen to know that princes younger than Phillip and Oliver have entered into betrothals. You've always been a man who likes to engage in long-range planning. Find brides for my boys. Invite the families here to get acquainted. Organize engagement parties. Draft pacts. Knock yourself out, man. And remember that Sarah is a young, fertile woman. If I marry her, she would produce more children you could marry off. Be imaginative."

"Finding wives for your boys would require finding girls who are not yet born," Sir Robert said.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," King Harold said. "You know as well as I that cattlemen routinely buy and sell calves to be born someday to champion breeding stock. It's a big business. This is no different."

Sir Robert looked thoughtful. "That's true, isn't it? Prince Phillip is going to be the most powerful king in history. He's an even more attractive prospect than you, your majesty. I intend no offense."

"I take no offense. It is a fact that Phillip is destined for great things. I have no intention of dying soon just so he can sit on my throne, but no one can doubt that I will die someday, and Phillip will then rule."

"I see that you have given this much thought," Sir Robert said.

"Your vision is clear as always," the king said.

King Harold had never asked a woman to marry him. He did not know the etiquette of such a thing, so he asked the librarian to quietly research the subject. The librarian was a smart man, and he knew that the only possible explanation for the king's inquiry was that he intended to propose to Lady Sarah. The librarian found it challenging to contain his excitement, but he told no one. He produced several references for the king, who spent an afternoon reading the materials.

On the appointed day, the king asked Lady Sarah to have lunch. To her surprise, a string quartet entertained them. Sarah was served her favorite entree and a special dessert, and she noticed that Harold was unusually solicitous. It wasn't Sarah's birthday, but it felt like that. When the meal was over, King Harold presented Sarah with a gift. She unwrapped it and found a small volume of poetry by a writer she particularly enjoyed.

"Thank you, Harold. This is most thoughtful," she said.

"You are always foremost in my thoughts, Sarah," he replied.

After lunch they retired to Sarah's chamber, where she was greeted by a large vase full of lovely flowers that gave the room a pleasing scent. A small tray of candy was set carefully beside the vase.

"Harold! How beautiful!" Sarah said. The king had given her flowers many times, but not like this. She'd never seen such a large and lovely gathering of so many colorful blooms.

Something is going on,

Sarah realized.

"Sit. Please sit," Harold said, directing Sarah to a chair.

He knelt in front of Sarah and looked up at the surprised expression on her face. "Sarah, dear Sarah, it's past time for these words to be spoken. You are the love of my life. You bring me light in the darkness. You are my first thought every morning. My last thought every night. My happiest moments are when I imagine being together as long as we both may live. You are kind, and clever, and generous, and loving, and so beautiful your visage never fails to fill me with joy.

"You are everything I could ever desire. You are more than I deserve. Marry me, Sarah. Be my wife, my love, and my queen. Make me the happiest king who ever lived."

He presented her with a large gold ring bearing a stunning red gemstone Sarah would later learn was a ruby. It was so ostentatiously impressive that Sarah could not help but realize such a ring was "fit for a queen" because that's exactly what Harold intended.

I can't be queen!

she thought to herself.

I'm just a whore!

"Harold! You flatter me more than words can say! I love you with all my heart, and I always will! But you know full well I can never be queen! Such things are simply not done! I fear you are not thinking clearly! I belong to you forever, but you can't seriously imagine I could ever wear a crown!"