Melt Ch 02

Alicia woke slowly, the partial familiarity of a noble's room after long months at sea only adding to her sense of dislocation. Clothes were prepared and sat just inside her door; her chests had been brought up and lay in the corner, simple fare to break her fast sat on the table.

The events of the previous night replayed through her head.

Oh, Gods.

The thought propelled her out of bed, to dress. Focus on the now. Routine, discipline.

She chose more standard, Rivaltian light garb, for now. She took her time adorning herself, and the feel of the familiar cut against her was reassuring.

Midway through dressing, a polite knock came at the door, followed by a voice – young, sapling, not the pliant tones of a servant.

"Princess?"

She paused eating, frozen. No further noise came. After a few moments, it seemed too late to reply.

So she finished eating.

And then realised she had no idea what to do to fill her days here.

So she waited. No more knocks.

She had book in the chest, but the idea of spending her days sequestered in her room were unappealing – she'd had enough of that during the long voyage here. So she summoned up her courage and ventured out of the door.

Which put her straight in front of a young girl, facing her.

The girl seemed to be of as similar age, cresting her twentieth year. Her garb marked her as one of minor nobility – Alicia recognised the crest as

Esta,

a smaller Eastern region. The girl's skin was olive, eyes green, hair jet black / body lithe– not unusual for Verensurians, but what stood her apart was her posture; a catlike air of entitled amusement seeming to radiate out, directed by the twinkling mirth in her eyes.

"Princess, I am Marianne of House Esta. I am at your disposal-" the words seemed to hang in the air, lazily "-during your time here."

A pause. "If there is anything you require, please send for me."

"Thank you" Alicia replied, feeling stiff and formal in response. It seemed insufficient.

"That's very kind", she added.

Marianne's eyes giggled.

"I thought perhaps I could begin by showing you around Sunhome and the grounds?"

Alicia nodded, deciding discretion the better part of valour.

***

Marianne proved to be loquacious, charming, and quietly witty – full of wry observations on the intricacies of Venesurian court and customs, though devoid of malice.

Sunhome was much as she had been taught. It was lighter of construction than the Northern bulwarks, not needed to be fortified against war or cold. The standard facilities of a great house were present, though again, the temperate climate meant food supply and storage was a more relaxed affair than the Northern holds with their long winters.

It seemed somehow unfair to Alicia - the whole construction seemed almost indulgently lazy. Knowing its irrationality, she still found herself jealous of the way the servants bantered and laughed as they carried out their tasks, the casual ease of life here.

They passed days this way. The belt continued its vigil - especially when dreams returned to her, of that first night's dance. But she saw little of those nobles, and the casual idleness of her life here helped banish such thoughts for the daylight hours.

It became apparent, over time, that Marianne was tasked with accompanying her – Alicia wondered whether this was considered an honour or a burden. Each day she would find Marianne at her door, and weighed against her natural suspicion, hoped secretly that the feeling of friendship she felt developing was one genuinely shared.

Soon, summer gave way to the beginning of Autumn, and the dance of the Twin Suns - a peasant festival designed to celebrate the turning of seasons. No formal celebrations, but a day on which households would eat, relax, and children forge crude facsimile of people from fruit.

Such waste would be seen as decadent to a festival marking winter in Rivalt, she'd noted to Marianne, where wooden figures were carved instead. When Marianne responded, teasingly, that perhaps more wooden personalities was the last thing Rivalt needed, her main rue was that she hadn't seen herself walking into it.

Marianne appeared late at her door on the night of the dance, decked in a heavy, peasant's robe. Months ago, she would have been alarmed, thinking this a sign of a political turn, perhaps a need for a pressing escape. Now, she mainly just though Marianne looked ridiculous, like a cat caught up in a bolt of cloth.

Marianne produced a second robe, and giggled at her with her eyes again. Without needing to ask, Alicia knew where this was going. Weeks ago she would have refused; now, she merely hesitated for moments, before sighing and donning the simple garb.

***

Marianne took her out, down and away from the palace grounds, into the smaller hamlets surrounding Sunhome, where woodland and fields blended. Sporadic torches and a clear night aided their passage, and the fading warmth of the Autumn sun was more than enough to leave a lingering kiss of warmth upon the air.

After passing unremarked through a few of the feasting abodes, Marianne took her onto a path leaving one of the hamlets, winding through the trees, whispering mischievously to Alicia to keep her voice down and follow her - leading her forwards and down, as the path wound towards another torch-circled clearing.

The light was enough to see clearly – even at a distance. In the centre was an assortment of dancing youths, like in the court dances. But this war rougher, earthlier, improvised.

One woman's breasts swayed in the light, teasing glimpses at what lay below as they contorted with the loose fittings capturing them. Many of the men were shirtless, athletic fieldhands whose torsos flit in and out of the shadows of the torchlight like fireflies.

People danced alone, together, moved from one to another – inviting, playing, receding, rejoining. Alicia watched, mesmorised at the rhythm and cadence of the dance, never having seen something outside of court functions.

Slowly, she found her eyes drawn away from the dance, to figures sat around on the outside. One couple in particular.

A darkly handsome man was slouched against a rock, a slender woman leant against him. And the longer she looked, the more certain she was. The man's trousers were lowered, and the woman was languidly running her hand up and down his engorged phallus.

Alicia felt a hot, vertigo-inducing rush of blood course through her at the realisation. Their lack of concern, the brazen openness of their display – somehow forceful, but also a natural continuation of the dancing before them.

She watched the man's face as the woman stroked, alternating being sharp, hard, desire, and shuddering, passionate relaxation into the pleasure, the woman in turn challenging him with her tease, then softly demurring as he pressed into her.

The main's head leaned back, and then fell to looking straight across the clearing at her. Her heart dropped, but she realized his gaze was unfocused after a second. Still, the shock continued to course through. What if he could see her?

And this time, she recognised the heat as what it was. The same as her first night in Venesura.

She snuck a glance at Marianne, who thankfully also seemed enraptured by the dance, like a cat tracking a fluttering pennant.

Alicia turned back, and unable to resist, let her imagination wander once more. What if the man could see her, what if she had the dress the same as that first night? The heat filled her body, and she felt her nipples harden, even as the belt under her skirts held its unrelenting grip.

She noticed the man's body was becoming more taught and tense, the manipulation of his penis faster and more urgent. What if that cock was in front of her, hard and urgent, quivering, demanding of her with its need?

Abruptly, with a shudder, she saw his climax. Ropes of cum shot out, the white dotting his clothing like snowflakes.

"Would you like to join in with me?"

Marianne's voice startled her, and she turned abruptly. The cat-like face was now looking at her, with that same amused playfulness.

She wanted to. The realization was simple but forceful. She, Alicia, wanted to.

And then reality came crashing back. She steadied herself, calmed herself, looked away. You're still a princess; this is still, in some sense, your captor. Still. She wasn't sure how to reply.

She didn't know if Marianne could see the change, took pity on her, or was teasing her. But she was grateful when she heard her begin to move backward, leading them away.

Grateful, and perhaps also a little disappointed, as they headed back to Sunhome.