The actual manor of House Nessane was near the city limits, perched near the edge of the disused wood that served as the royal family's hunting ground. While not a vast estate, it was far from humble, and key among it's features was a carefully tended rose garden, tucked away inside a delicate glass greenhouse.
Lady Marie Nessane enjoyed doting on her garden. She was a tall, slender woman of graceful step, with a flood of deep crimson hair flowing down her back, and dark amber eyes. She wore a simple brown woollen gown for working about the garden, and an apron and gloves to protect herself from the soil, but the simple dress did little to hide the beauty of her wide hips and a bountiful chest. She was proud of her beauty, but she did not let it control her. She was as self-possessed and content in her gardening clothes, with his fingernails caked with dirt, as she was attending social functions in a ballgown.
The garden itself was the pride of her late husband. Hers was a marriage of vanity- a man far too old who already had an heir plucking an innocent girl just barely old enough that it wasn't a scandal. And, of course, when Lord Nessane managed to get her with child shortly after their wedding, all of Marie's peers began gossiping on the assumption that Lord Nessane was a saint rather than a vain old pervert, having married her to cover up some impropriety that left Marie unmarried and pregnant. The man hardly worked to dispel the reputation, to boot. Despite her being a scared little girl with a damaged reputation in need of companionship, the old man fussed over his rose garden more than he ever had time for his second wife, only ever coming to her in order to sate his lusts.
Some years ago, when their daughter was still too young to remember, a sudden sickness came over old Lord Nessane. While he was bedridden and recuperating, his drunkard of a son happened to be robbed and murdered on his way back from the tavern one night... which resulted in the old lord dying of grief some few days later. A tragedy, really. But this left Marie as her late husband's heir, and her sole daughter, Angelique, to inherit after her.
All of what once belonged to old Lord Nessane was now Marie's. Including his beloved garden. And that thought never failed to make her smile with satisfaction.
Marie was carefully trimming back dying blossoms when the black-armoured royal guards came for her. She had to bite back a curse upon seeing them close in on the greenhouse, surrounding it and leaving her no avenue for escape. She had always suspected that the new king was too bright for his own good. She carefully set down her clippers and stood, showing her hands so they could see she was unarmed. "I am surrendering, there is no need for violence. All that I ask is that you not trample my roses."
The two guards who had entered the greenhouse after her exchanged glances, taken aback. "King Roland awaits, my lady," one growled, seizing Marie by her arm. Evidently, they had taken her admonishment about roses as defiance.
She removed her gloves and dropped them next to her clippers. This shouldn't take long- after all, what evidence could the king have of her part in the conspiracy? They had taken care to never put things in writing. "Very well. I assume you have a carriage waiting for me?"
The guard holding her arm shook his great head, while the other grew a lewd grin. "No, my lady," the first one replied, "He is within your manor, speaking with your daughter."
That did cause Marie to frown with puzzlement. Why would the king come here, personally? "Lead on, then, if you please," she instructed them, as if she was a lady in no trouble at all. All the while peering up at them through her lashes, trying to memorize the faces of the guards. Manhandle her, would they? She silently vowed to make them regret it, in due time.
And so they led her out of her garden. Outside her manor, in the long drive before the main doors, there were the massive warhorses that the Veronomigan Guard used, her head only coming to their shoulders, and Marie was not a short woman. They were the only beasts capable of bearing the massive giants, truth be told, with no better bloodline than draft horses. Beside them was one of the royal carriages, and within, was that Desiree and Adeline she spied through the carriage windows? A sinking feeling, deep within Marie's gut, began to grow stronger.
The guards led her inside the manor, but passed by all the guest areas and began to lead up to the second floor. Further puzzled, Marie inquired, "Where does it please his grace to speak with me? My study?"
"No, my lady, he wishes to speak with you in the master bedroom."
The master bedroom? Suddenly, it occurred to Marie what must be happening to her daughter, and she lunged up the stairs, taking the guards by surprise. She was already up to the first landing by the time they shouted after her, and she raced to the bedroom, grateful for her practical, flat-soled gardening shoes. Had she been dressed as a proper lady should, the heels would have prevented this dash to protect her daughter. There were more guards outside the master bedroom, but they did not bother to bar Marie's way, one even opening the door for her, even though she ended up shoving through before he could get it fully open.
Marie shouted in wordless anger at what she beheld when she ran into the bedroom. The king reclined on Marie's bed, naked, and seemingly unconcerned with Marie's intrusion. Meanwhile, her daughter, with the same dark red hair and graceful stature as her mother, only painted with more freckles and with smaller breasts, was similarly naked and kneeling over the king... who seemed to enjoy himself as Angelique' head bobbed over the royal cock.
The door slammed shut behind Marie, leaving the three of them alone. "Your... what... Angelique! Come away from there!" Marie stammered out.
Angelique bolted upright, staring at her mother in horror, blushing furiously. She then ran away from the bedside, to wrap her arms around her mother and bury her head in the older woman's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, mother..." the young girl sobbed, "I know I'm supposed to be kept pure, but he told me you were a traitor, and I had to show my loyalty to the throne...."
"Shh, sweetling, hush..." Marie said as she comforted the girl, wrapping her arms around the younger woman's shoulders. She glared daggers at the king. "I know you have business with me, your grace, but leave my daughter out of this. She had no part in it, and deserves none of your... ill treatment."
King Roland rose out of bed smoothly. "So you say," he replied, stretching luxuriously, "And perhaps, if I was a good man, I would agree with you. But a good man and a good king are two very different things."
"You're a monster, that's what you are," growled Marie, "She's barely an adult, and here you are, taking advantage of her like some lowborn lout!"
"That's the second time today a traitor has told me that," said the king thoughtfully. "You call me a monster, yet sought to take away the power that is my birthright and reduce me to a puppet on the throne. And that is called that 'right'? 'Just'? Then, I shall take away everything you hold dear and reduce you to my toy, a plaything that I control, and call that justice, because the word is less than meaningless."
