The Royal Heirs

Note: This is a continuation of the Royal Heirs story. All characters are 18 or older.

***

"Sire, you have a visitor."

"At this hour?" the King replied, looking out the window of his bedchamber to see the moon high in the sky. "Who would bother me now?"

"Lord Reuge, your Grace," Ordran replied.

"Very well," the King said, waving a hand. "Show him in."

No doubt the old man was returning, hat in hand, to apologize for his drunken actions earlier. He had come at the right time, the King was nearly finished the wine he'd been drinking. It had been a few hours since the ceremony, and the King had remained up to ponder the events of the evening.

Something about the way the old Reuge man had spoken to him stirred a flame within him, and as it caught hold there was nothing to stop it from burning through the rest of the night. He had been outside of himself, hardly conscious of his choices, following the basest instincts he had to see the Siobhan women together.

And then his mother, had she meant for him to see? Or was she simply as taken in the moment as he had been?

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and lively footsteps approaching. Instead of the Lord Marco Reuge, before the King stood Sir Wallace Reuge, clad in simple brown leather accented with his family colors. He wore no weapons in the King's presence.

The King dismissed Ordran and the two men were alone.

"Sir Wallace," the King said. "To what do I owe this late pleasure?"

"Your Grace, I apologize for the hour," the man replied. "I feared were I to wait, I would allow your entire visit to pass without enjoying an audience."

"I am of course happy to oblige a man of your stature."

Both men were silent for a time, looking one another over. The King swirled and drank from his wine, waiting for the true purpose of the visit to emerge.

"Have you enjoyed your time in the Isles, your Grace?"

"I have, Sir Wallace," the King said. "It has been most pleasant, despite the evening's transgressions."

"Yes, I must apologize for my father. He worries over Nyssa and feels he is being cast aside under your reign, your Grace."

"He has an interesting way of showing his worry," the King said. "And he has cast himself aside, that was not my doing."

Sir Wallace met his eye, a small fire igniting behind his look of forced respect. The man paced the room, stopping before the window, back to the King. He stood looking out over the harbor, soft moonlight illuminating his silhouette. Eventually he sighed and turned back to face the King.

"She was raised to serve you, your Grace," he said. "She is mere weeks younger than you. From the moment she was born the people -- my people -- knew her purpose was to bear the heir to the Kingdom of Isles. Can you blame my father for his indignation? The crown passes her over, yet still claims her to take to bed."

"I have on intention of taking her to bed, Sir," the King said. "In truth, I had no knowledge of who she was. I saw a bruise on her face and decided the crown would protect her."

"Protect her?" Wallace cried incredulously, composing himself before speaking again. "Your Grace, I am her protector."

"You have failed her, then."

The flame burned brighter then, a true rage behind his light brown eyes as he stared the King down. He gave a curt bow in thanks and turned to leave, but before he could reach the door the King called to him.

"You may speak your mind, Sir Wallace."

The older man stopped and turned, an imposing figure against the door frame.

"I fear that would be unwise, your Grace."

"Your King commands it."

"Very well," he said, stepping forward slowly as he spoke. "You are unscarred, unhardened, and untested. Your mother and aunt decide your actions, and you follow with a smile. Were you consulted before throwing my family aside in favor of the Siobhan scum? Of course not, you were told it would happen and went along with it."

The King remained silent as the man approached his desk, the small table of wood the only thing separating the two.

"Even now, unarmed after a night of revelry, you are no match for me," Sir Wallace said. "You do not rule by fear or strength, nor love or passion. You will not protect her, and I fear what will happen to her when you fail."

"I rule by the blood of Kings, Sir Wallace," the King replied, keeping emotion from his face while pangs of fear laced his chest.

"You rule by the blood of a long dead conqueror," Wallace replied with a sneer, taking the King's wine from the table and downing the remains. "You rule by paper and bureaucracy. There is no power in your crown."

He dropped the glass on the floor, shattering it, before stalking out of the room. He threw the door open upon his exit, and left it as he went. Ordran stepped in to talk to the King, but was quickly dismissed, shutting the door behind him.

The King sat back in his chair, stress easing out of his body, and considered what needed to be done in response to this show of subversion.

Loathe as he was to admit it, there was some truth in what the man had said. It was little different from the conversation Entega and his mother had the night before. He was a young man, truly untested in battle, ruling simply because of his birth.

This was yet another step on the Reuge family had taken to disrespect the crown -- the outburst at the feast, this show of bravado, the messenger the Queen's spies had intercepted before the Royal Tour began.

Something must be done, and the King knew it had to be retribution of his own creation. The world would respect the crown so long as it maintained control, but for that to happen he had to demand respect.

If not respect, he had to address the shortcomings Sir Wallace had laid bare -- the King did not rule by fear or strength. Before he departed the Kingdom of Isles, Entega knew he would have to show his strength, and leave fear behind him.

The following morning, shortly before they were set to depart for the Mountain Kingdom, the Royal retinue gathered once again in the Great Hall. The heads of each of the Noble Houses were there to witness the transfer of power, and the King sat behind a small table in the center of the room.

"With this Royal Seal," he said, "I do hereby decree and appoint House Siobhan as Overseers of the Kingdom of Isles, to rule in my name and raise my heir until they shall come of age."

He poured a small bit of hot wax onto the document and, removing the family ring from his right hand, affixed his seal on the official document. A cheer went up throughout the room, and he saw the Lord and Lady Siobhan shaking hands and accepting congratulations.

No doubt the flatter had already begun.

As the King stood to make his way through the room to say his goodbyes, he was interrupted by a call from the back of the room. Marco Reuge stepped forward, no longer in his own home, and bowed before the King.

"Your Grace, you have truly honored us with your visit and mercy," he said, catching the King's eye in an unspoken acknowledgement for his misstep the previous night. "As a departing gift, House Reuge would like to gift you our finest pleasure women as entertainment on your journey, and company in the Capital."

He turned and motioned to his own steward, who opened the doors to the hall and led in a parade of beautiful, naked women. Entega recognized the three that had waited on Lord Reuge the previous night, and saw others from each of his Kingdoms. Each was thinly clad to show their bodies beneath, and the King suspected that, since they had no way to ascertain his preferences, they had selected each body type at their disposal.

Lady Reuge and her son, Sir Wallace, stepped up behind Lord Reuge. Neither met the King's eye, but both looked longingly at the parade of women, no doubt saying silent goodbyes to companions of their own.

"Thank you, Lord Reuge," the King said. "You have been most generous during our stay. I shall remember my time in the Isles fondly, and hope to return soon."

"Yes, your Grace," the man said, bowing again. "In the spirit of friendship and just rule, we ask only that you allow my daughter Nyssa to remain here as you sail on with your new consorts.

So that was his play. A feigned apology, a two-faced gift, and the hope that in the morning's sobriety the King would back down and renounce his decision to add Nyssa to his retinue.

The King looked up and down the row of women presented in front of him before turning to the old man with a scowl.

"How many are there, Lord Reuge?"

"Twenty, your Grace," he said. "No, twenty-one of my finest accessories."

"That is all?"

"Well --"

"Your daughter is only worth twenty-one whores?"

Sir Wallace Reuge's hand shot to the dagger at his side, his body tense as he locked eyes with the King and began to step forward. Only a gentle hand on his arm from his mother stopped him in his tracks, though he continued to glare at the King. Entega stepped forward and his own guards followed, wary of the legendary knight.

"Of course not, sire," Marco Reuge said. "We give this gift to the Crown out of our deep love for your rule, and hoped you would find it in your kind heart to --"

"I do not," the King said, cutting off the older man. "The Crown accepts your gift, and are grateful to have a member of the Reuge family among the King's court."

The room had fallen silent then. Entega's heart pounded as he fought to maintain this air of confidence. He continued past the Lord Reuge to step in between Sir Wallace and his mother, turning to stand behind the Lady Reuge.

"Yet recent shows of distrust and insubordination are worrisome to the Crown." He placed his hands on his cousin Isabella Reuge's shoulders. "We have long counted the Reuge family among our close allies."

"And we have taken great pride in that for generations," Marco Reuge said, uneasy and unsure of what was to come. He dropped down to one knee in front of the King and his wife. "We are staunch allies of the Crown, your Grace. Please trust our indiscretions are an unfortunate mistake we will not make again."

"That much I trust," the King said, untying Lady Isabella's dress and letting it fall to the floor, revealing her naked form underneath, "for I will graciously remind you the price for treachery."

Entega dropped his pants then, silently thankful he was already erect. He bent his knees and took the Lady Reuge, holding her hips as he slid into the mature woman. She sighed quietly and pressed her behind back into him, already moist, becoming wetter with each gentle stroke of the King's cock inside of her.

The great hall was silent as he thrusted into the Lady Isabella, taking her sagging breasts in his hands as she leaned her head back to rest against his. With a gentle hand he turned her head and their mouths met, tongues playing for just a moment.

The King opened his eyes and found his mother's gaze from across the room. She looked on with rapt interest, a new feeling of excitement and fear plain on her face. He knew what she was thinking -- wondering anxiously how this would end. If the King finished inside the woman it would create havoc throughout the empire, calling into question the document the King had just signed giving the Siobhan family power.

But this was all part of what the King had decided on last night. As he continued to enjoy the woman, he could feel Sir Wallace shaking with anger beside him, unable to act for fear of losing his own life.

The older Reuge man remained on one knee, face red and beaded with sweat, but the expression on his face was almost serene.

The King pushed Isabella Reuge to bend over, taking her hips and pounding her harder and harder, letting himself go as he felt himself nearing the end of his display. The only sounds throughout the hall were skin meeting skin, and Lady Isabella losing her stoicism as she grunted and moaned with pleasure.

Just before he climaxed, the King removed himself from the woman and pressed her down to her knees, grabbing the back of her hair and holding her face up for the entire court of nobles to see.

She kept her eyes closed and face puckered as he finished himself with his hand, letting out simple grunts as he finished, spreading his seed across her face. It was difficult to maintain the relative silence as he came, the pleasure was so great.

Subtle gasps and murmurs spread throughout the room as the levity of what he had done set in -- not only had the Reuge family been passed over receiving the King's seed for their familial line, now he had wasted the precious resource by dropping it onto the House Matriarch's face.

He found his mother and cousin standing at the outskirts of the room, the Queen's face curled into a soft smile, for the first time looking at the man as the King, not just her son. His cousin was unable to contain herself, a look of shock and arousal apparent on her face, her mouth agape as she enjoyed the show before her.

The King fixed his pants and offered a hand to Marco Reuge helping the man to stand. Entega turned to leave, pausing briefly beside Sir Wallace as he left.

"Do be a good boy and help your mother get cleaned up," he said.

Without waiting or looking for a response, King Entega strode past his mother and cousin, flanked by his guard as he walked out of the great hall down to the dockyard where he boarded the Royal Yacht, set to depart from the Kingdom of Isles.