Doe was summoned by a guard the very next afternoon, who escorted her down to the courtyard where Elinor was waiting for her. He gave her a modest looking cowl, which she reluctantly threw on.
"I bet that's not what my mother wears for this sort of thing," Doe muttered.
"She's the Queen. She has to look the part."
"But if she's going to... to... then... I just think I'd want something a little more comfortable."
"I think you'll find her more than accessible if things go well."
"Well then let's hope they don't."
Her head bowed, Elinor ushered her through the great wooden doors and into the grand landing of the palace. He led her straight across the velvet carpets and through the tall archway opposite, which Doe knew to be the throne room. A gallery lined the hall where spectators stood, often rallying, voting, or placing prayers or requests towards the white, marble throne at the far end.
Elinor directed her through the stone pillars of the gallery so they had a clear view of the throne. As they waited, more men and women, lords and ladies filled the court. Amongst them were the officiates, connoisseurs and wine experts, and the tradesmen, who had come to see what they might soon be able to supply. And then there were those of high society who had just come along to see the show. And at long last, when the space between all the pillars of the aging chamber had been filled, the Queen herself strode in.
She was tall, as tall as Doe one day hoped she might be, and impossibly slim. Even Doe, who was slight herself, didn't fancy the idea of slipping into the corset her mother sported. But it the fit was tight around the waist, it was nothing compared to the struggle going on around the chest. The restricting garment forced her breasts close against her body, and Doe was sure there was more spilling over the top than actually held within the cups. She felt sorry for the lace trying to hold the piece together.
Her robes were light, and purple, and flowed behind her as she walked, swaying in time with her hips like her very own slipstream. Round her neck she wore a jewelled choker, and a tiara say nestled within her golden, curling hair.
Queen Linette strode to the high-back marble throne, and rested her arms on one of the wings which had what looked like small handles cut into it. Doe didn't need to ask what they might be for. She smiled and waved at the audience before a spokesperson stepped forward, and the mumbling from the crowd quieted.
"We are here to greet Lord Eural Aubelier," he announced. "Deed-holder of the infamous Marissy Vineyard of Dorneaux, and ambassador of Fort Dongannon."
"Must we really do this now?" the Queen sighed. "I've already dealt with my husband twice this morning already." There were a few chuckles from the crowd. "Fine, send him in."
The grand doors were pulled open by two men in ceremonial armour, and the Lord Aubelier strode pompously up the aisle. He certainly seemed over-entitled. And he more-than seemed overweight. He reminded Doe of a plump little squirrel, with a broad, bushy moustache.
"Lord Aubelier," the Queen addressed him.
"Your Majesty," he bowed, showing the Queen his bald spot.
"I hope our fair city finds you well."
"I do hope you'll forgive me," Lord Aubelier said sharply. "I've come strictly on business, and the sooner I'm back, the better I'll be for it."
"It always starts like this," Elinor whispered beside Doe. "They all come determined to resist the Queen's... advances."
"Does it work?"
"Sometimes," he moved his hands like weighing scales. "Rarely."
"If you're in a rush, then let's get to it," the Queen said. "Tell me about the season's wine."
"The grapes this year have been remarkably good, Your Majesty," Aubelier said, making a great effort to look anywhere but at the Queen's bulging bosom. "And they'll keep, once corked, for just under twenty years. We deal with Marissy, but we've got partnerships with the Provin and Rossilon vineyards, too."
Queen Linette waited until Aubelier met her eyes, and she held him in her gaze. "You see, Eural, I'm quite a connoisseur myself. And there are many in this very court who are also. And we've heard that the Marissy wasn't all that special this season."
"But an average Marissy is a glorious Di'Vence, or even Sul-De-Mare."
"And of this average harvest, how many cases can you offer?"
"We forecast being able to afford you four thousand barrels for the-"
"Four thousand?" Dejection crossed Queen Linette's face.
"Our trade is wine, and it is in high demand at this time of year. I can offer Skerryvore four thousand barrels, to be shipped by the thousand every quarter."
"I'm afraid, Lord Aubelier, that simply will not do."
And now Doe saw the act begin. Her mother stepped behind the throne, and when she emerged on the other side, the knot of her corset was unfastened, revealing the line of her tightly-crammed cleavage.
"You are a small province, Your Majesty. That is fact, not sentiment. Castle Coe and Glenahull are much larger, and they can offer steel, or soldiers in return. Things that matter to the welfare of a nation."
"And what would you want from my nation?" Queen Linette said softly, and curiously, as she traced her under-breast with a long finger.
"I'm afraid gold is about the best resource you've got, and by the books it pales next to... Deepharbour, for example. We've got only so much wine to go around. I'm just being realistic in what you can afford."
"Oh, Eural, you know full well what I can offer you," the Queen smiled. "I came to this court hoping for twenty thousand barrels. I could've given you eight hundred each for them. Then you wouldn't have to worry about any other buyers."
"Twenty thousand?" Aubelier spluttered, his moustache contorting in astonishment. "Preposterous. Preposterous!"
"We can give more than gold. I can give you something no amount of money can buy. I can give you a look at these."
Using her upper arms, Queen Linette squeezed her breasts even closer together, so that surely all but the nipple brimmed over the cup of the fabric. Doe stifled a snigger as she saw something twitch in the trousers of the trader.
"I can do six," he blushed. "Six thousand. At a thousand Gold per barrel."
"That's more like it," Linette said silkily. "I do like it when you play ball."
She then pulled the ribs of the fabric apart, allowing the lace to loosen and unravel. Then she seized her breasts in her fists and hauled them out of the corset.
They were not as Doe had heard from rumours and folklore- folklore that, in Skerryvore, more often than not involved the Queen's explicit activity. They were not wrinkled, or sagging, with nipples overly large or small. They were as any queen's breasts would be imagined, how any fairytale might tell. Whilst Doe's were well on their way, she secretly- and begrudgingly- hoped there was a bit a life left in those, too, and that she might one day rival the chest before her. And there was a chuckling in the hall as the onlookers watched Lord Aubelier blush furiously, and shuffle his hands in his trouser pockets to keep something inside under control.
"Oh, it's quite alright, my Lord," the Queen said silkily. "I'd be offended if my breasts didn't elicit that reaction from my audience. It's only human nature, after all, there's nothing wrong with that. Now, I can't sit down on my throne just yet, but I think I can help you. Shall we say... eight thousand barrels?"
"What do you mean by help, Your Majesty?" Aubelier said with an admirable steadiness.
"Well, look at that. There appears to be something trying to escape from your trousers, My Lord. I think you'd be more comfortable if you let it out. I know I'd be very comfortable if you let it out."
"I'm fine," he said firmly.
"I know you're fine." Queen Linette left the side of her chair and descended upon her rival like a hawk upon a mouse. She placed one hand softly on one shoulder, the other she slid down his side. And tightly she pulled his back into her naked breasts before whispering in his ear. "But I could make you feel so much better."
And the hand that slid did not stop at his hip, but wound lower, over the hem of his shirt, over the pocket that still smuggled his fist, and eventually to his crotch. Linette let out a soft giggle.
"Oh, there it is," she whispered. "There's no need to hide it anymore."
She slowly hooked a thumb over the top of his breeches, and began to pull. Aubelier finally relented, and as the hand cleared his crotch, his erect member sprung up and out.
"Oh, wow. Your compatriots didn't tell me you were hiding that!" she said, stooping down to her knees and taking it in her hand. It hardened visibly in her grasp.
"She seriously thinks that's big?" Doe whispered. "She should see what I've got to put up with!"
"I'd be very surprised if she really thinks that's big," Elinor said, now careful to lean down to ensure the words wouldn't carry. "This is all part of the game."
"You Majesty, this is most inappropriate," Aubelier managed, looking down and blushing furiously.
"Why ever so? You have come here with your trade. If anything it's courtesy to provide you with trade of our own. Now, will this suffice," she said, making no effort to conceal her stroking motion, "or do you want to make me a better offer to do something more interesting whilst I'm down here?"
"I can do eight thousand barrels."
"But we already agreed on eight," she reminded him. "I'm already here," she placed her head against his plump stomach so her lips were inches from his shaft. "All you need to do is give me ten, and I'll give you something you won't forget."
Aubelier bristled. "Very well."
