Battle of Wills

"I do," She sealed her fate. The ceremonial words were as true as life to her, though the reply was forced from her new husband. In that instant, the woman performing the ceremony ceased to be the Queen-Mother, removed her heavily ornamented chain, gently draped it around the new Queen from shoulder to hip and closed the clasp.

"Until I want you, you will only bear my name, woman." The King growled, low enough that only his new bride could hear as he blatantly refused the kiss that would normally end the ceremony.

"Then I will make you want me all hours of the day and night." The Queen whispered back before his Mother approached them.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he mumbled.

"When you see what?" The Mother rarely missed anything, thus Marguerite had reached her high and happy, if not perfect state.

"Nothing Mother," he said politely.

"Welcome to the family," the Mother said warmly and embraced Marguerite.

"Thank you my Lady."

"My Lord! My Ladies, if you will forgive my intrusion..." A uniformed soldier approached with a face full of urgency. Marguerite did not seem to know she should speak so the Mother nodded slightly to the soldier and then led her away. The King seemed to listen to the soldier's report and then hastily followed to the bridge of the Royal Barge.

"You are not happy my dear," the Mother said to her new daughter-in-law.

"He does not know me," she whispered back.

"You have changed since he last saw you. A serving girl, before unnoticed, and with a nearly fatal wound that change your face into what was almost your death mask...it is no wonder that he does not recognize the beautiful woman you have become. He will recognize the scar you chose to bear for him." The Mother smiled approvingly.

"Only if he deems needful to see it."

"Ah, may I guess what he said?"

"You ask me?"

"My dear, you are Queen!"

"Oh..." Marguerite stammered, "I did not...I..."

"You did not realize the task that I have given you. To love and protect your King and to support him as his Queen."

"Yes...and no..."

"It seems a large task, and yet it is not so hard, that I promise you. You have regained your strength and more through your training." The Mother said, " and you are destined by the words each of you said that night when you were but children. Now, may I guess?"

"Of course, you have always been my mentor and guide. I will always be glad for your advise."

"He said that he would not have you until he wants you..." Marguerite looked wonderingly at the Mother as she continued, "...or something to that effect. His father said the same to me. I was not his choice either, so he thought. His mother chose me to be her daughter, as I chose you."

"Thank you Mother."

"Do not allow Adam to hear you call me that," the Mother laughed.

"He's a bit of a stick in the mud isn't he?" Marguerite said and then quickly reddened and looked at the other woman apologetically.

"You are right," the Mother laughed, "like his father he is both hard and soft, strong and gentle, brutal and passionate."

"Two sides of the same coin," Marguerite said, almost to herself.

"Yes. Nothing will make him intentionally hurt a woman, and yet a woman could easily get herself killed by angering him.

"As Millicent did?"

"Millicent was a fool. She was trained to be a concubine, not a Queen. He married her only out of his obligation to produce an heir, but he is still following the muddled trail we left behind you."

"I see, so even if he does not try to know me, he will find out who I am anyway."

"Eventually, yes."

"What was it that he hated being called again? ...'hon?' ...shall I go now?" Marguerite asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"If you wish, I will tell you how to annoy and tame him completely...just don't break him, dear, a broken King does none of us any good."

"You already have. Call him 'hon' while bothering him on the bridge of this technological wonder that he has built himself."

"Memorized that one have you?"

"Of course."

"You wouldn't really, would you?"

"Watch me." Marguerite grinned mischievously and sauntered off in the direction of the bridge. She stopped outside the door to the bridge and sighed, she wasn't about to lose her nerve now! The airtight seal allowed no sound in or out unless she actually banged on the door, but is also made no sound when opened. The minimum crew consisted of the navigator, weapons and command officers. They stared open mouthed at Marguerite as she walked in silently and gestured for them to not acknowledge her presence as she approached her husband.

"Your Majesty," the navigator had already said, so he continued by addressing her husband, "did you want to change our destination or course?"

"No, just let me rest away from bothersome women," he replied. His eyes were closed and his head leaned back against his chair. Marguerite stepped up behind him and looked down at his face for a moment...the hint of a smile on her face.

"Good afternoon hon," she leaned down and twined her arms around him emphasising her greeting with her touch.

"Not until I want you!" The king growled, throwing her off towards the wall. The crewmembers in the room flinched and turned away, knowing that if they acknowledged the quarrel it would be considered intervening. But Marguerite needed no help, her training proved itself as she landed silently, bending her legs to absorb the shock as she ended in a crouched position. Adam turned her way when he realized that he had thrown her, but had not heard a thud and a whimper of death as Millicent had made. Marguerite knew full well that her husband's eyes were on her as she rose seductively until she was standing, her outfit accentuating her body. She spoke in an ancient language that he knew only his family used.

"And I told you that I would make you want me all hours of the day and night," she turned to face him, his expression was hard and his eyes were cold, a spark of curiosity kept him from seeming frozen.

"Aye, that you did," he responded in the same language, "and you have succeeded in making me want something." He stood to tower over her, lifted her by the belt and stormed down a maze of corridors to his own chambers. It was lit by an illusion of a forest meadow at twilight. He grunted and looked around for something.

"In the top of that rock," she whispered, pointing, knowing exactly what he was looking for, the keys jangled as he picked them up.

"How did you know...?" he began.

"Did you think that I've only known you the few hours that you think is all the time that you've known me? I have been around you all my life."

"You were trained?" he grunted as he set her down.

"Yes."

"Combat?"

"I could show you better than tell you how well I fight."

"You will," he shuffled through the keys looking for the right one.

"You won't be angry if I hurt you?" she glanced up at him with a slight glimmer of fear and something else.

"Ah ha! You are afraid of me!"

"Only when your temper is greater than your control," she sauntered along beside him to the wall. He inserted a key and turned it, the machinery whirred as it retreived the compartment the key called for, then clicked when it was ready to be opened.

"You will be wearing these," he motioned to the sparring gear that was revealed.

"Oh, but I couldn't! These belong to..." Marguerite began.

"A young man who died gloriously and left them behind."

"Your brother Simone." Marguerite turned and touched each piece carefully.

"You knew his name?"

"Yes, just as I know yours...Adam," her voice seemed to caress his name.

"Put it on," he said in a strained, but even voice. The words seemed to grit out between his teeth. The effect was that she reached for the equipment and quickly put it on.

"Shall we actually try to hit each other?" she questioned carefully.

"You may try to hit me. I will not hurt you purposely."

"Alright," Marguerite moved to the center of the room, and as Adam followed, he was forced to watch the graceful swing of her hips.

"Strike when you are ready," Adam took a deceivingly relaxed stance. Marguerite knew there was a space in the defense near the floor. She dropped down, kicked out and spun up, just brushing his ankle as he jumped away, but doing so opened more vulnerable places. She struck his hip and ribs soundly in succession. As he reacted to protect the 'injuries' she struck three more times. His thigh, shoulder and neck were the targets, the last was more caressed than hit.

"Perhaps you should take a less passive approach," Marguerite purred as a ploy to raise his temper.

"Then I wouldn't get the answers I am getting," he answered.

"And what answers would those be?" she danced around to his other side, blocking the blows he attempted to land, while somehow managing to brush her body against his.

"Firstly, you can strike without warning. Second you are quick. Third, you are merciful. Fourth, you move easily. I also am beginning to think you are a tease." Adam smiled.

"I am," Marguerite dropped her fighters stance and stepped up to him, "very much one of those." Suddenly her arm snaked around his neck and he found himself in a headlock being flipped to the floor. In the process of pushing free, he threw her up into the air. He landed with a thud. She turned in the air and landed solidly on his chest.

"I noticed," Adam said, a little out of breath, a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.

"Sorry, with your 'not until I want you' attitude I knew I couldn't land where I was about to, and didn't have enough of a chance to alter it to hit the floor," she hastily scrambled off of him.

"Maybe you should have, it might have changed my mind," he grunted as he sat up.

"That's cheating, but then again, so is this," Marguerite pulled off his scarf and threw it near the wall grinning, "victor's claim." Adam growled and launched himself at her. Margaurite found herself pinned to the wall with her feet just barely touching the floor.

"Don't assume you know the rules," he snarled.

"I didn't. I admitted it was cheating, as is this," she wrapped her legs around his waist to relieve some of the stress on where he gripped her arms. She squeezed a little and smirked at the sharp intake of breath he took.

"Don't..." he began.

"You never stated that I wasn't allowed to seduce you," she grinned, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"An imp are you?" he asked.

"More of a siren, I would like to think."

"Then I think I can resist."

"Can you? Or will you simply order me to stop?"

"You can try, but that does not mean you will succeed."

"Oh? Will you be testing me as well?"

"I believe I will. Beginning now," he leaned into her causing her to breath in sharply just as she had done to him and watched the fine flush creep up her neck, and spread into her face.

"You won that battle a long time ago," she dropped her gaze from his face to somewhere to his left and dropped one leg then the other.

"Hum, did I now?" Adam softened his grip on her arms and let her down to allow her feet to set fully on the floor then released her, moving his hands to lay flat on the wall.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"Enough to relive both our lives?" she blinked up at him as she unconsciously rubbed her arms where he had gripped them.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Your arms, I'm sorry I hurt you," he explained. Marguerite chuckled softly, and removed her scarf, revealing the low cut of her top. She dropped it to the floor near his. A trickle of sweat ran from her ear along her neck and down between her breasts.

"Your prize for pinning me."

"But, I hurt you..."

"No more damage than I did by landing on you...unless you feel obligated to apologize...."

"I am...you are a woman, I should have been more gentle."

"Well, then I demand your apology in the form of a kiss," she looked up at him, her eyes had become darker.

"A kiss?"

"Yes, a kiss...actually, two. You owe me one from our marriage ceremony this morning...and not little pecks either," Marguerite's voice took on an authoritative tone, slowly reaching her hands up, gently setting them on his shoulders not quite daring to wrap her arms around him again as she had before.

"Two?" he contemplated

"Yes, two."

"And how will you know when one ends and another begins?" he questioned.

"Fine, one kiss, but you have to mean it," she said, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, around his neck, pulled him closer, dropped her voice to a whisper and breathed the words into his ear, "put your body into it like you just did and I'll count us even." She felt him pulling away, and let him go, sliding her hands down his chest before he turned away. He punched the parallel wall not wanting to give in even this little bit to her will. He was supposed to be in control, and yet his action of leaning into her had backfired against him. From the time he took, she thought he had decided to refuse, drooped her head and shoulders in defeat and moved towards the door that would take her to her own room.

"I did not give you permission to leave." He said it like he would to a soldier.

"My Lord?" she froze.

"Come here," the command in his tone frightened her, and made her melt inside as she moved along the wall back towards him. She saw his knuckles were still pressed into the wall. She took his hand gently, but insistingly and pulled it towards her mouth to kiss the roughened skin. Her tongue flashed out softly and her lips soothed. She didn't look up, she focused on his hand, turning it over and opening it to press her lips to each fingertip.

"Training?" he repeated, a softer tone to his voice.

"Mm hum," she hummed the positive against his palm before flashing her tongue out to swirl against it.

"By whom?" he asked. She stopped and looked up at him.

"By your Mother," she put her head to one side, "who else would be able to teach me all I needed to know in order to be your wife?" She saw a fire come into his eyes and took a step back, squared herself into the corner and wondered what he was thinking.

"Mother would do that," he paused and thought for a second, "you are my guard then as well I suppose?"

"Who better to guard you than someone that would not bring suspicion by accompanying you everywhere?"

"Drop it all," he ordered. She didn't even have to ask what he meant, she removed first the sparring gear, setting it down gently. Then she removed and set the ornamented chain atop the pile. They were followed by several weapons that he hadn't even detected while they were sparring, some even seemed impossible for him to have missed. Most were thin blades that appeared out of camouflaged sheath-like pockets. She had to open her tunic to reach the last weapon, this revealed a nearly sheer tank top and a bra beneath as she unclipped the sheath from her waistband.

"That's Mother's," he pulled out the blade, fiddling with it familiarly.

"She gave it to me, it's part and parcel with the ornamented chain, which actually isn't all for show..."

"Yes, yes, I know that," he waved off her explanation and stepped closer to her.

"Would you rather carry it yourself than I?" she asked.

"No, but I think Mother had a more appropriate place to carry it."

"What do you mean?" She wondered for only a few seconds before he took the sheath from the hand that rested near her waist and gently teased it up her body. He hovered it over her bosom, not quite feeling it was safe to continue.

"There."

"You would rather I carry it there?" she took the sheath from him and clipped the sheath inside the center of her bra.

"Yes, it's a suiting reminder, hearts are deadly."

"Now, about that apology?"

"Fine," he sighed and bent forward to give her what she had asked and instantly regretted it. She pulled him closer, her arms and legs twined around him.

"I win," she grinned when he pulled back a short time later, her legs still wrapped around him let her feel the point she had won today.

"Yes, you win," he agreed, "but will you like your prize?" The battle of wills was hers today, she had made him want her. With one hand he unbuckled his belt and set himself free to strain against the thin fabric she wore. The warmth and moisture he felt was plenty to tempt him. He remembered the blade he still held, and used it deftly cutting the fabric, just grazing her skin with it. The barrier between them gone, he noticed she was shaved clean as he began to shove into her.

"Not so fast!" she whimpered, slightly in pain.

"So your training did not include this?" he stopped, then he began a gentle rhythm to rock himself deeper into her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"No," her mouth formed the word, but no sound came, she bit her lip as he pressed against something, and he knew he was about to take a virgin. He stopped and looked at her.

"This will hurt," he murmured, she nodded, he pressed her face to his shoulder and shoved the rest of the way in quickly. She screeched into his shoulder, then turned her head to bite him gently where shoulder met neck. He decided to continue with his original plan to make her prize into a punishment, quickly he pulled back and thrust again, this made her bury her face against him and whimper. Again and again he pounded into her.

"Enjoying yourself now?" he growled. She lifted her face to look at him, and he was frozen by the laughing look she gave him.

"Immensely," she murmured, she pulled him into a kiss that matched the rough pounding that he immediately continued. She squeezed tighter, he moaned into her mouth and pulled her out of the corner to press her flat against the wall, holding her there by the arms again.

"Do that again," he growled against her lips, a threatening command she was all too glad to obey. She squeezed again and again, this pulled him even further into herself. He groaned and his thrusts slowed and lengthened. The previous roughness had made her raw and she felt every movement, the heat pooled in her belly erupted when he thrust into her again, she quivered. He felt her clamp down tightly around him and he thrust into her again and hovered there as he erupted in his own way.

"Ooh...," she sighed and clung to him, she seemed nearly unconscious as he pulled from her. He lowered her to the floor and let her slump into the corner.

"Reconsider before you try again," he stated as though he had nearly killed her instead of giving her a new plane of pleasure she had not known existed.

"M mm," she stirred to find a more comfortable position in the corner and closed her eyes, there were still sparks of heat flying through her body. She listened as he stripped the rest of his clothes off, bathed and dressed again in something similar. She heard him summon one of the maids for her.

The maid clucked to herself as she roused Marguerite enough to get her through the door connecting to her room. She had served Millicent, and that woman would never have been able to handle what this young lady had, from the looks of it, she was not only her husband's wife, but his sparring partner. Bruises appeared on each upper arm, nearly marking a full circle. Light bruises and friction burns covered her inner thighs proving how violently she had taken it. And yet she emerged from her bath and closet as fresh as a flower. The maid called others to bring her dinner and also to take it away then hummed around the room like a nanny until she slept.