The Queen sighed audibly as their carriage rounded a bend and slowed in front of the impressive looking palace. Her husband turned to her supportively.
"It's only one night my love."
She nodded slowly.
Home had been much more appealing recently. She felt like she was actually settling into her role.
She hadn't expected to be made Queen at such a young age. She simply had not been ready when two sudden deaths in her family had vaulted her forth into the monarchy of her region.
The young Queen was thankful for her husband. While the royal bloodline was
her
lineage, not his, everyone quickly warmed to her male partner. People liked him. He was protective of her. He had been beside her through thick and thin for several years now. The Queen was only in her late twenties but she felt that the previous four years of life since her ascendancy had existed in some strange time warp. She was ready to slow things down.
In turn, she was beginning to find her royal visits to be an annoyance.
They had travelled close to 12 hours in a convoy of six carriages. On reflection it was a relatively short journey considering some of the others that had been necessary. They had crossed the border from her region of English Normandy into France near the halfway point. She had done her best to sleep when she could.
The French nobleman, Edward Violette, was not actual royalty like she was. However his county in France abounded hers in Normandy. While hers was bountiful in resource and riches, his area of the neighbouring country was smaller and less fertile. He was always proposing some new manner of partnership between their bordering regions. Frankly, she found it to be tiresome.
Where possible she had hosted him at the castle. However after multiple visits Westward it had only been polite to finally accept the invitation to his palace.
Polite.
She was always expected to be polite.
That also frustrated her.
Despite his married status Monsieur Violette was constantly after her. As was custom of the era the Queen knew that their actual formal meeting would be brief... and that it would be followed by a bacchanalian celebration of their visit that would surely involve food, drink... and sex.
Thankfully the French weren't quite as debauched as some of their Ottoman counterparts. The fall of the Roman empire had shattered that part of the continent into smaller fiefdoms. However the proclivity for parties and orgies that had been ingrained within the Roman culture had certainly carried over to the new territories. Some of the ones the Queen had witnessed (and participated in) during recent years were truly libertine affairs. Where possible she had decided that she should limit her involvement in such environments.
As long as she was able to do so in a polite way of course.
Given that much of the leadership of the countries and counties was made up by men it was not surprising that a young and attractive female Queen from a bountiful region would be sought after.
Her husband had known what he was getting into when they wed.
For her, he had been an obvious choice. He was descended from a Duke's family. A successful lineage. He was already monied and had been a soldier.
He had a soldier's build. Just over 6 feet tall with broad shoulders, and muscular. He was classically handsome with twinkling green eyes and wavy brown hair.
However, beyond all of that he was both understanding and compassionate. Her husband realized that the life of being an 'assumed' King was difficult. He was not the one in power. He had no actual governing authority. His young bride was the matriarch of their land. She appreciated that he was simply happy to be with her and that the power dynamic of their royal titles seemed to have no bearing on their actual relationship.
And, well...he was also formidable in the bedchamber.
Despite being youthful, the Queen was worldly enough to understand that other mens interest in her could be used to the benefit of her people. Her husband understood this as well. They were young.
Within the confines of the European upper crust sex was free and plentiful. The couple had found themselves in a number of lascivious environments over the past years. When appropriate they had partaken freely and without compunction. The Queen had secured several trading agreements that were incredibly favorable for her kingdom purely by making herself available to a few royals one evening at an event in Cambria. She had participated in a wildly debauched weekend at a palace in Turenne while her husband watched on. They returned with access to workers and supply that otherwise would have been unheard of in their region. The King had been understanding of process (and he often ended up finding himself an opportune companion as well).
As their caravan rolled into the palace surroundings the Queen brushed her long blonde hair to the side and made a face. Multiple carriages already lined the cobblestone entryway. It was clear that there were many attendees already at the palace and that preparations for a party were in full swing.
She allowed her arrival and entrance to be announced before her guardsmen escorted her from the carriage and down to the formal greeting that had been arranged. Monsieur Violette waited for them inside the vast entry foyer in formal attire, accompanied by his wife.
The King followed a respectful step behind the Queen as she accepted the well wishes of their host.
The French nobleman was tall and slim. He was in his early forties with close cropped dark hair. His strong jawline was expertly captured by the painter who had been commissioned for the large portrait that hung prominently in the entryway.
His wife stood courteously behind her husband flanked by two rows of their house staff who lined the long entryway. As the nobleman completed his greeting the Queen stepped past him to greet the lady of the house. She appeared to be in her late thirties. Two young children headed the lines of staff assembled behind her as part of the formal greeting. Both boys stood at attention, freshly groomed with hair combed down tightly. They were clearly impatient to be let loose to return outside where they had been roughhousing previously.
The Queen greeted Madame Violette warmly with kisses on each cheek. The King and the nobleman had acknowledged each other perfunctorily and now stood to the side and watched as the two women exchanged quiet pleasantries. Despite being well Madame Violette's junior, the Queen carried herself with a commanding presence. The noblewoman was dressed in a flowing formal gown which contrasted sharply with the more youthful and formfitting dress that the Queen had chosen.
Madame Violette initially seemed uneasy in the royal's presence, but the Queen expertly warmed her, placing her arm upon her host's as they spoke in quiet, almost conspiratorial, tones. The Frenchwoman's English was excellent. The Queen graciously complimented the host on her outfit, eyeing her from head to toe. She was a classically pretty woman. Her dark hair was cut somewhat shorter than was English custom, landing just above her shoulders which were bare until the top of the gown which hugged tightly at the edges of them. The top of the garment gave way to a laced bodice where strands strained across two substantial breasts in an effort to truss them in. Creamy white flesh strained against the cords. The Queen's own relatively large breasts were dwarfed by her hostess. She smiled inwardly. Her husband would love this.
Madame Violette's mature frame was soft and smooth. Wide hips. At this point of her life her free time was clearly spent tending to her family and her duties, not engaged in sport and activity. Her full bum pushed out against the gown and the material dropped downward into a short train.
The two English royals were soon taken upon a tour of the large palace and introduced to several of the nobleman's advisory staff. The large building was regal and well appointed and gave way to an impressive garden, stretching acres from the property.
