A Prince's Pride

*Milo*

The metal of the handcuffs binding my wrists together cuts into my skin as a guard, who holds the chainlinks connecting the cuffs, pulls me along behind him. He isn’t bothering to go slow and I find myself tripping over the chain between the cuffs around my ankles.

I fall, but the guard doesn’t slow down. Instead, he hikes the chain up in his hand and drags me along the floor. I try to get my feet under me, to push myself up into a standing position, but I give up when I realize it’s futile. Instead, I just tuck my legs up to prevent my pants from being pulled down.

I’m dragged into the throne room and deposited at the bottom step of the dais. I look up to see King Aaron, Queen Elaine, and Princess Riley sitting on their thrones. They’re all staring at me in disgust.

Aaron stands and throws something at me. Something that breaks apart and flutters down to land before me. I push myself up into a sitting position and look down. It’s photographs. The same ones I got from Tanner, depicting Criston giving money to the Red Hand.

“You’re a traitor.” spits Aaron. I look up and see his face is partly in shadow. He looks terrifying.

“You murdered my husband,” says Queen Elaine, now by her son’s side.

“You’re a disgrace,” says Princess Riley, joining them.

“You could have prevented the attack,” says Aaron.

“The blood of all those lost lives is on your hands, Milo,” says the Queen.

“You’ll never be able to wash it free,” says the Princess.

“For your crimes," says Aaron, looking at me with disgust, a glint of rage in his eyes," I sentence you to execution. Send him in!”

I look to the door and see Criston stride in, a massive sword in his hand. He walks right up to me, and raises the sword.

“Long live the King!” says Criston, as he brings the sword down upon me.

*Aaron*

I wake up, startled. Something is thrashing around in my bed. I reach over and turn on the lamp on my bedside table and realize it’s Milo. 

He’s moaning, “No…no…” over and over, his arms waving about. 

“Milo!” I say loudly, shaking him. When his eyes open, he looks at me in horror, his eyes wide and tear-filled. 

“Aaron?” he asks, like he doesn’t recognize me. He sits up and throws his arms around me and starts sobbing into my shoulder. I glance out the window and can tell it’s still the middle of the night, judging by the dark sky.

“It’s okay,” I say, one hand around his back, one stroking his hair. “It’s okay, it was just a nightmare.”

He’s been having nightmares a lot lately, since the night my father died. Always the same one, according to him. He’s been dreaming that Criston is pushing him off the North Tower instead of Corianne. 

It takes me nearly ten minutes to calm Milo down enough for us to lay together in bed, just cuddling. Although I miss my father very much, being king does have its advantages. For instance, I can have Milo in my bed now without worrying about someone walking in on us. In the three weeks since my father’s death, Milo has spent almost every night here. My mother and sister know about it, too.

Unfortunately, being king also has its disadvantages. While I am more free to have Milo with me at nights, my increased duties mean we get almost no free time alone during the day. Especially now that I have to lead the efforts to eradicate the Red Hand while also fighting off King Zannir. His attack on Crown City was successful, having taken out my father, but he hasn’t relented. 

"Are you okay?" I ask Milo, stroking his hair, his head on my shoulder. 

"Yeah," he says with a small nod. "It's just scary."

"I promise, I won't let him hurt you," I say. He looks up at me and kisses me. 

I return the kiss with equal measure, pressing into him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me on to him, the sheet still around my body. It folds under us, creating a barrier between out bodies. He moans into my mouth as the pressure of his arms increase. I sit up, my legs on either side of him, straddling him. 

He always looks at me like there's nothing he'd rather do than stare at me for the rest of eternity. His eyes are lock on my flexed abs. Directly after my father’s death, I found working out to be a good way to relieve the stress, and it’s made my body more toned than ever before.

His hand touches my stomach, raking over the muscles. It's insane how the lightest touch from him can make me so horny. My cock is already hard. 

I reach behind me and grab his cock, which is also hard. I rub him through the sheets, causing him to let out a hiss of pleasure. I lean down and kiss him, then bite his lower lip. He groans as I pull on the skin, his hands squeezing my sides.

I look into his face with the lustiest expression I can muster and start kissing my way down his body, pulling the sheet away to expose him as I do. I stop when I get to between his legs, grab his cock, and look up at him. With my eyes locked on his, I swipe my tongue up from the base, where it’s connected to his sack, and up toward the tip. 

I feel his body tense in anticipation as my tongue nears the head and feel gratified at the gasp of pleasure he lets out when my tongue slides over the sensitive skin. My tongue leaves streaks of saliva, mixed with his precum, as I swirl my tongue over the head before sucking it into my mouth, and pulling him deep into my throat. I squeeze my throat as I pull back and one of his hands snakes into my hair, gathering a fistful of it.

I work him, turning him into jelly in my hands and mouth as I slide up and down on his cock. 

“Oh, fuck, Aaron…” he gasps. “Suck that dick, Your Majesty.” 

I used to hate when he called me “Your Highness,” but for some reason, I enjoy when he refers to me by my kingly title, especially during sex. I cup one of my hands around his balls as I move my mouth up and down, our eyes never leaving one another’s. 

“Get that ass up here,” he commands. I break away from him just long enough to give him a mischievous grin. I pull him back into my mouth and, my tongue pressed up against the head of his cock, spin my body to swing my leg up over him, my mouth spinning around his manhood. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, as my ass comes to rest in front of his face.

I don’t want him to go slow, and he doesn’t. His mouth hones in on my hole and I let out my own moan of pleasure around his cock as his tongue flits against the skin. I bend my own head down farther and pull one of his balls into my mouth as he snakes a hand up to my front, grasping my cock in his fist. He starts to work the shaft, pulling the skin up and over the tip. My precum spreads inside the skin and it feels so fucking amazing as he works it.

We stay like this, pleasuring each other until it’s all I can do not to jump onto his cock. I pull away from him and see his eyes glittering. I can tell my hole and his cock are slick enough from our saliva, I don’t bother with lube. He fits inside me so perfectly, it hardly matters.

I lay on my side beside him and he fits his body behind mine. I feel him grab one of my legs and I oblige, lifting it as far up as I can. I reach back, grab his cock, and help him guide it inside me. It’s ecstasy times a thousand as he slides inside. He starts to thrust immediately, but goes slow, savoring the feeling. I turn my head to look back into his eyes as he makes love to me and start stroking my cock with my free hand.

I love him so much and in moments like this, I feel more connected to him than I have to anyone or anything in my entire life. We feel as one person in this moment. I feel one of his arms snake under me and make way for him. He pulls our bodies closer together, my back against his chest, and he kisses me on the neck, still thrusting into my hole. The arm not holding up my leg bends and his hand finds my abs. I make sure to flex for him as he runs the fingers along the muscles.

“I want it harder,” I whisper to him, looking deep into my eyes.

“As you command, my king,” he says, sending a spasm of pleasure through me that erupts into bliss as he lifts his pelvis and starts to fuck me harder. I’m gasping, trying not to moan as his cock obliterates my prostate. My cock is leaking precum, the slippery liquid dripping down and making my dick slick beneath my fingers. 

“Oh fucking gods, baby,” moans Milo in my ear, “your hole feels so amazing.”

I can’t help myself. It’s too much. His whisperings in my ear, the touch of his fingers on my abs, my hand stroking my cock, and his cock sliding over my prostate. My entire body seizes up, my balls tightening. I explode in my hand, long ropes of cum shooting from the head of my cock, spraying the covers with my seed. I squeeze my ass, knowing it’ll drive Milo crazy, and it does.

He pulls out of me, letting my leg fall, and sits up. He leans over me and thrusts his cock back inside, then unleashes an unrelenting torrent of poundings against my ass. My eyes roll back in my head as great spasms of pleasure and blinding ecstasy fill me at the abuse he was showing my hole.

His thrusts start to become erratic, his breathing shallow. He thrusts into me with a gasp of, “I’m cumming!” and I feel his cum as it fills my hole. He doesn’t stop fucking me, though, and I don’t want him to. He continues to thrust in and out until his cock is too soft to do anything more. He collapses behind me and pulls me into him, kissing my neck again. 

Sweaty, gasping for air, and entirely spent in the best way possible, we fall asleep again. Milo doesn’t have another nightmare.

***

The next morning, Milo goes to work doing his servant things, cleaning up our mess. For the first time ever, we actually take a shower together. In the past, it had always been too risky. True, there is still some risk involved. If someone were to come in and realize what was happening... However, I have Oswald and another Crown Guard posted outside. Both of them are aware of mine and Milo’s relationship and neither care. I found, very quickly, that Delgara’s words were true. My father ensured every member of the Crown Guard had no issue with same-sex relationships. And, even if someone were to find out, I don’t to have to worry about the king executing him. 

We have decided not to tell the majority of people about us yet. It’s still much too risky. We do not know how the people of Midoor will take to having a gay king. The only people who know are my family, Oswald, Delgara, the Crown Guard, and Devin Denson, who Delgara still doesn’t trust. I suppose that Criston knows, as well, but if he’s intending to use it as a weapon against us, which Delgara says is probable, he has yet to reveal it.

I approach the Small Council Chamber and walk inside, leaving Oswald at the door. The Small Council stands and bows their heads as I walk up to my father’s seat. My old seat remains empty. Once I’ve sat, so do the Council.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” says General Gregory Pallenore, Master of War. He glances around at the other members of the Small Council; Tyson Dellrie, Master of Law; Zelda Offrand, Grand Physician; Lorraine Yora, Master of Coin; Octavio Delgara, Commander of the Crown Guards; and Cara LeDorne, the new Hand of the King.

“Good morning, General,” I say. “Let’s get straight into it. What of the efforts rooting out members of the Red Hand here in the city?”

“We are working very hard, Your Majesty, but we have yet to find very many more. The prisoners in the dungeons are not giving up their information easily,” says Tyson Dellrie. “If we were to—” 

“No!” I say, cutting him off. “I will not resort to torture unless it’s absolutely necessary. Keep up with your current efforts.”

“Your Majesty,” says Dellrie, bowing his head, “your father—”

“Is dead.” Dellrie stops talking as soon as I start and the members of the Small Council look around at one another again. I don’t care. My father would have resorted to torture long before now, but I’m determined not to be that kind of king. In the three weeks since his death, the Red Hand has grown quiet. As we are in no immediate danger, I will not resort to ripping off fingernails and driving screws into their flesh.

“What’s next?” I ask, trying to keep the displeasure from my voice. I don’t like Small Council meetings. Dellrie is a big part of the reason why. I long to dismiss him, but I don’t have a suitable replacement yet.

“The efforts to rebuild the city are underway,” says Yora, “we have received a generous donation from Queen Allandra of the Southern Tribes in condolence of the passing of King Theodore. We have already sent thanks with food. They are currently experiencing a drought and have had issues with their crop yield.”

“Very good,” I say, nodding my head to her. “What of our position with Sandalia?” The western kingdom and Midoor have always had odd ties. Though we’ve never been at war, we’ve never been very friendly with each other. Much less so, at least, than with the eastern kingdom of Daila, and the Southern Tribes. 

“We had a messenger go out and speak with Sultan Aegor, and he said he is eager to enter a new era of friendship,” says Cara. Cara was one of the few nobles I felt I had an actual friendship with. I haven’t seen her in some time, but she was happy to take over the post of Hand to the King when I asked her. 

“He wants us to share our technology with him,” she says. “As you are well aware, Your Majesty, although electricity, which was invented here in Midoor, has made its way to the other kingdoms, our klaxon warning system is ours alone. It’s louder than warning bells, can be changed to different sounds and, as you are also aware, we are close to developing something that will allow it to broadcast your voice over the city.”

“Do it,” I tell her. “And share it with Queen Allandra of the Southern Tribes, as well as King Harmond of Daila.”

The Small Council looks around at each other once again over this. My father had always protected our technology greedily. I decided, when I spared Devin Denson’s life, that I would be a different king from my father. I will unite the five kingdoms as they have never been before.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” says Cara with a bow to her head.

“As for the next matter of business, Your Majesty,” says Pallenore, “I would like to once again petition that we pull some soldiers off from the search for Criston.”

“Finding Criston is of the utmost importance,” I say flatly. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.

“Your Majesty, while I understand that you’re upset over Criston’s murder of the Lady Corianne, I do not see why you seek him out so. A full search party of fifty soldiers, after the ones we have lost in the attack on Crown City, is too much. They could be moved and bolster our offensive post at the northern border. If we are to attack the Lower Reach, we must—”

“I am well aware of what we need to do, thank you, Pallenore.”

“I would like to say that I agree with General Pallenore,” says Cara. I see the rest of the Small Council nodding their heads, with the exception of Zelda Offrand.

“What is your position on this, Zelda?”

“I am not well-versed in the matters of war, Your Majesty, but Criston did try and kill you, just mere hours after your father’s death. Had he succeeded, we would not have a king now.”

The other members of the Small Council look thoughtful at this.

“Perhaps,” says Delgara, “if we were to simply lower the number of soldiers seeking Criston out, we could bolster our numbers at the northern border as General Pallenore suggested, and make it appear to Criston as though we are starting to give up. It may give him a false sense of security and he may make a mistake.”

“Fine. Cut the search party in half and, Pallenore, you can do with them what you want. Is that all on the docket for today?”

“No, Your Majesty, there is one other thing,” says Cara, looking awkward. “The matter of your succession.”

“This matter has been decided already,” I say. “In the event of my untimely death, the crown will pass to my sister.”

“Your sister, who also has yet to sire a child, Your Majesty,” says Dellrie. “I understand you are still mourning the loss of the Lady Corianne, but this is a matter of national security. While your father lived, the matter of the succession was less important than it is now. You must find a wife, and you must—”

“Who are you to tell me what I must and mustn’t do?” I demand of Dellrie. I was not aware of making the decision to stand, but yet I find myself suddenly on my feet. “I am the king,” I remind him. “Every time we meet here, you throw up opposition after opposition regarding my decisions and motives and I will not stand for it much longer.”

“It is the job of this council,” says Delgara, “to raise potential opposition to its king. It is not a sign of disrespect, Your Majesty, but it is a way to help you make sure you’re making the right decisions. If our objections give you pause, or cause you to worry, it might help you to realize you are not choosing the correct course of action.”

“And if your objections don’t give me pause?”

“Then your word is our command, my king,” Delgara says with an incline of his head.

“Well it is my word that we stop discussing matters that are already decided. Until I father a child—” I don’t tell them that’ll never be unless a miracle happens and Milo gets me pregnant, “—Riley is my successor. However, in the wake of the attack, I am more protected than my father ever was. You’ll not have to worry about me dying anytime soon.”

They all bow their heads.

“Now, if that’s all, I’ll be heading off.”

“It is not all, Your Majesty,” says Cara apologetically. “We argued for a while about who should give you this information, but as the Hand, I think it’s best if I do it.”

I look down at her worried face, but she doesn’t speak.

“Well?” I ask.

“There have been some…rumors spreading around about you, Your Majesty. It is, actually, one of the reasons we’re so determined to see to it your succession is guaranteed.”

“And these rumors are?”

“Well, Your Majesty, they concern you and your servant, Milo.”

*Milo*

I wish I could just get this feeling of guilt off my chest, but it grows larger and larger every day. It’s my fault Crown City was attacked. It’s my fault Corianne and King Theodore died. If I had shown the pictures to Aaron long ago, Criston would have been arrested and the old king would have made sure he talked.

I have thought, many times, of going to Aaron and telling him what I did. I no longer have the pictures, as they were taken from Corianne by Criston, but that makes it more important that I go to Aaron myself. If the information comes from Criston, he could spin it in a way that would make me look worse. I withheld information that could have prevented the attack that lead to the death of the King.

But I just can’t. Every time I work up the courage to tell him, I remember my dreams. I can’t imagine the look on the faces of Elaine, Riley, or Aaron when they find out I’m the reason their husband and father died.

The door to Aaron’s room bursts open and Aaron strides inside. Delgara and Oswald both give me odd looks as they close it behind him. He’s fuming mad, red in the face. He starts to pace his room, throwing looks at me and I feel my skin grow cold with dread. Does he know about the pictures?

“Have you heard the rumors?” he asks me suddenly and without much explanation.

“Rumors?” I ask. “What rumors?”

He stops suddenly and looks at me and, as he does, his face and anger seem to deflate.

“There are rumors spreading around about us. That we’re together and hiding it. The Small Council thinks it’s Criston trying to sow distrust amongst the citizens of Midoor about their king.”

“Maybe it’s time we just tell people?” I suggest with a shrug, but Aaron shakes his head.

“I don’t know how the people will react to a gay king. I swear to you, Milo, we will go public one day, but we have to do it the right way. In our weakened state after the attack on the capital, with the war becoming worse with the Lower Reach, after the death of my father, we can’t withstand our citizens revolting as well.

“So what are we going to do?”

He looks at me miserably. “The Small Council wants me to get married.”

“Okay, then do it,” I say. Aaron stares at me with disbelief.

“After all the stuff with Corianne?” he asks.

“I was wrong about Corianne,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t want you to marry someone else, but I can’t be the reason you have issues with your subjects. Find a woman who, like Corianne, doesn’t care about us.”

I don’t tell him that I want him to find a good wife, someone to stand by his side, because I’m worried I’ll be executed for treason when he finds out I knew about Criston all along. I know Aaron would do everything in his considerable amount of power to stop it, but treason is treason, no matter who you are. 

“Absolutely not. I’ve settled the matter for now. As for the rumors, we have to find a way to quieten them. So, going forward, we go back to our old routine. You stay at your place, and I’ll sleep here, alone. You’ll need to make sure to ramp up the servant act, as well.”

“I’m a good servant!” I say, suddenly feeling indignant.

“You’re the best servant I’ve ever had,” he says, walking up to me. “And that’s without the added benefits.”

A knock sounds on the door and when Aaorn tells them to enter, Oswald pokes his head in.

“Your Majesty, the Queen would like to see you.”

***

When we enter the Queen’s chambers later, it’s to find the curtains drawn tight. Her lights are on, her fire is lit, and she’s pacing around her room feverishly, looking at maps and pages of notes, whispering to herself.

“Mother?” asks Aaron when we walk in.

“Oh, boys,” she says, smiling at us, but not in her usual, happy way. She looks maniacal. “Close the door, Milo, I don’t want to be overheard.”

“Mother, what are you doing?” asks Aaron, looking around the room. She’s pinned maps of Midoor, the Lower Reach, Sandalia, Daila, and the Southern Tribes on her walls. Since I was last in this room, she’s added five more tables, all of them littered with diagrams and scrawled notes.

“Looking for Criston,” she says, beaming with insanity in her eyes. Ever since her husband’s death, she’s been acting a bit funny. Physicians have determined there’s nothing physically wrong with her, but I overheard Zelda Offrand telling Aaron that she’s in some kind of shock. She refuses to deal with her grief, and it’s driving her mad.

“From your bedchambers?” asks Aaron incredulously.

“Well, you won’t let me leave the palace unless I’m surrounded by a host of guards, Your Majesty,” she says, giving an insane-sounding laugh when using Aaron’s title.

“Of course not. I hardly think it a good idea for a queen of Midoor to leave the palace un—”

“Shhhh!” Queen Elaine says suddenly, then freezes. Not a single muscle on her body moves for a solid ten seconds. Then, quick as a flash, she plunges her hand into the front of her dress, pulls out a dagger and, without warning, throws it through the open doors of her closet. I hear the dagger land in the wood of the wall with a thud.

“Go and check,” whispers the Queen, “I think I got him.”

Aaron glances at me in alarm, then walks over to the closet and moves his mother’s clothes aside. He wrenches the dagger from the wall and, before he can turn, Queen Elaine strides inside and starts feeling the walls. 

“Damn,” she says, “he’s gone. No matter. I will begin again from now.” She walks over to a table and starts furiously arranging the notes there into four piles while Aaron and I watch, dumbstruck. She scoops up one of the piles and throws the paper into the fireplace. “You boys go. I thought I had him, but I will find him. I will.” 

She takes up a pen and moves to the map of Midoor, placing an X on the Grand Palace. It seems she’s done this several times. The mark is gouged out and I can see several lines where her X’s didn’t match up perfectly.

“Let’s go,” Aaron says, almost grabbing my hand, but then thinking better of it.

Outside, we see Zelda Offrand coming down the corridor, carrying a goblet of something.

“How is she today?” she asks Aaron, bowing her head.

“Not good. She started throwing daggers at invisible people again.”

“Oh, dear,” says Zelda sadly. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty, we’ll settle her down.”

Aaron turns and watches Zelda enter his mother’s room until the guard shuts the door behind her. As Aaron stares at the door, I see a single tear form in his eye, slide to the end of his lash, and fall to the floor.