A Prince's Pride

*Aaron*

How was my father able to stand holding court for hours on end nearly everyday? True, he didn't have a war to deal with until the end of his life, but I find holding court extremely, mind-numbingly boring. Not as boring as Milo, it would seem, who is staring up at the ceiling, clearly bored as the man before me drones on and on about how his fields aren't producing enough crop because he doesn't have gold for fertilizer.

"The Crown will supply you with enough gold for this harvest," I say, cutting off his story. He looks taken aback momentarily, but then his face breaks into a smile. 

"You are most generous, most gracious, Your Majesty," he says, bowing low. He turns and leaves with a small skip in his step. 

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” whispers Oswald, who stands next to my throne, “this is the last one.”

Excited about the prospect of court finally finishing, I look up to see a hooded woman enter the throne room. This doesn’t really faze me as Delgara is making sure to check the identities of everyone passing through here. I swear, he’s becoming as paranoid as Oswald these days…

The woman walks up to the bottom step of the dais and kneels before me. She pulls back her hood, and lets her hair fall free from it. It’s not very long, falling to around her shoulders, but I’ve never seen blacker hair. It’s as if the light streaming in through the high mullioned windows of the throne room is getting sucked in and trapped.

When she looks up at me, I see she’s extremely beautiful with a round, heart-shaped face and a button nose. But her most striking feature are her eyes. Almond shaped and so icy blue, they seem to almost glow in the sunlight playing across her fair face.

Oswald draws his sword and steps towards her.

“You?” he says, pointing the sword at her. “You are not allowed to enter the palace, Piper Dylan.”

I look between Oswald and Piper. 

“I was not permitted to enter the palace when King Theodore sat the throne,” she says, standing slowly, her hands splayed before her in surrender. “I was ordered to never step foot in the palace as long as he should live. And, Gods rest his soul, King Theodore no longer sits the throne.” She inclines her head slightly toward me.

“Your Majesty, I would highly recommend you follow your father’s example and send this witch away.”

“Witch?” I echo. “What do you mean?”

“In the times before magic was outlawed in Midoor, I was a powerful practitioner of magic,” says Piper. “I had come to see your father many times, in an attempt to petition him to lift the ban.”

“Step back, Oswald, and sheathe your sword,” I tell him. “I will see her.”

“As you wish,” says Oswald, obeying my orders, but with a bitter tone in his voice.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” says Piper, visibly relaxing, her hands now at her side. 

Nobody moves for several moments.

“Well, begin your petition,” I say.

“Your Majesty,” Piper begins, bowing briefly again, “your father outlawed magic because he was worried to what end it could be used. However, religions have always had protections in Midoor since your great-grandfather, King Raymond Heris III, declared that Midoor should be a kingdom in which anyone can live their lives as they see fit. As I told your father several times, there are grave portents showing a darkness coming upon this land, and the hand of magic is guiding these events. Only by allying yourself and your kingdom with those who practice magic, can you truly hope to stall their advances.”

“And what do these dark portents show?” I ask.

“It would be impossible to say,” says Piper, “without the use of magic itself. Which is, of course, illegal.”

“Magic isn’t even real. Why is this being brought before me?” I’m so annoyed. I just want to leave this, attend the next Small Council meeting, and go relax. Matters are only meant to be brought before me if the High Courts think it’s a matter for the king.

“King’s Law outlawed magic, Your Majesty,” says Piper.

Ah, I see. A King’s Law trumps Common Law and can’t be amended or removed by anyone but the reigning monarch.

“If you do not believe in the existence of magic,” continues Piper, “then it should be nothing for you to remove the ban, my king.”

“My king, I urge you—” starts Oswald, but he falls silence when I look at him.

“I may not believe in magic,” I say, turning back to the raven-haired woman, “but my father did. He spoke against witches and sorcerers for as long as I can remember. I will not tarnish his memory or his legacy by changing his King’s Laws mere weeks after his death.

I’m just about to tell Piper to leave my throne room when she says, “I thought you were to be a kind and just king.”

Oswald starts forward again, but halts when I raise my hand.

“And your meaning behind this is?” I ask.

“Your father was a great king, don’t get me wrong, but I believe this was an oversight. He swore to protect all religions, but cast mine aside because he feared it.”

This is technically true. My father did fear magic in all its forms, and urged me to follow his example, though I never believed in magic.

“I have never seen any evidence in my life that magic even exists.” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

“Let me prove its existence to you, my king, and then perhaps you can come to your own decision. Strike a path your father would not take?”

The words of the crone come back to me. I don’t believe her mumbo jumbo either, but there was some truth to her prediction, about me making a path different from my father, and how that path would lead to Milo.

“Very well. If you can prove the existence of magic to me, I will consider your petition. If I so decide, I will change the King’s Law, and magic will be granted the protections of other religions.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” says Piper, “but there is an issue. I can only prove magic’s existence by the use of magic. Were I to do so, I would be executed under current law.”

“Very well,” I say. “I grant you immunity from this law so you may prove its existence to me. But, understand this: if this magic you perform in any way harms any citizen of this kingdom, I will have your head. In addition, this has to be a feat so extraordinary, there can be no doubt in my mind that it was magic, and not some sort of trick or illusion. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she says.

Again, for several moments, nobody moves.

“Well, go on,” I say.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have not performed magic in nearly twenty-five years. It will take time to prepare.”

This gives me pause. Twenty-five years? This woman can’t be much older than I am.

“I am older than I look,” says Piper with a coy smile, correctly interpreting my expression. “I took a potion when I was younger to slow my aging considerably. This was before magic was outlawed, of course.” She says the last sentence as though she doesn’t want there to be any doubt in the court’s eyes that she would never practice magic illegally.

“Very well, you may go,” I say. She bows deeply to me and I can see the smile on her face as she turns to leave the throne room.

***

When I enter the Small Council Chamber later, I find the Small Council already in their seats, waiting for me. As always, they stand when I enter and sit after me.

“Your Majesty,” says Cara as they Council sits down, “I wanted to bring something to your attention before we move on to—”

“Nope,” I say, “Criston first. Where are we with his capture?”

“We have found him, Your Majesty,” says Pallenore, and my heart skips a beat.

“Where is he?” I demand.

“Our SOAs have discovered a small hideout of the Red Hand in Desparr. He is hiding there, running a small smuggling outpost. We believe they’re moving weapons closer to the capital in anticipation of another attack on the city.”

“Why haven’t we taken him yet?” 

“Their hideout seems mostly empty during the day. We intend to wait until they hold a meeting, so we can take in as many Red Hand members as possible.”

“A wise strategy,” I say, and I see Pallenore relax a little. Was he expecting an outburst?

“Your Majesty,” says Dellrie, “we should move on to—”

“And what of our preparations for the attack on the Lower Reach?” I say, cutting across him.

“We are nearly ready, sire,” says Pallenore. “We have moved nearly all necessary troops, but our plan seems to have reached the ears of King Zannir. He has stationed a battalion of soldiers near our shared border. He seems to be taking a more defensive stance at the moment.”

“I have good news involving this matter, Your Majesty,” says Cara, “but we really need to talk about—”

“We will get to it, Cara,” I say. “The news?”

“Of course, my king,” she says. “Sultan Aegor Ran of Sandalia has agreed to lend us some troops, who are already en route to our northern border as a thank you for sharing our warning system with him. He is having his consultant write up ally documents and wishes to sign them. This will make us as strong of allies as we are with Daila, though both King Harmond and Queen Allandra of the Southern Tribes wish to remain neutral. Particularly King Harmond, who shares prosperous trade with the Lower Reach.”

“I do not begrudge him for that,” I say.

“Your Majesty, if we may move on to…” beings Cara, trailing off as Zelda begins to speak.

“I think we should discuss this business with Piper Dylan first.”

“That matter was settled in court today. I have already made my decision. You don’t really believe in magic, do you, Zelda?”

“I am an old woman, Your Majesty,” she says. And it’s true. She’s in her seventies, though strong. Her skin is wrinkled and her graying hair is always tied in a tight bun. “I have seen magic with my own eyes. Incredible healing that I could never accomplish.”

“I’m sorry, but I still think you were hoodwinked.”

“Your Majesty, the matter I have is very important,” says Cara, before anyone can say anything else.

“Very well, what is it you wish to tell me?”

“Sire, the rumors about you and Milo—”

Dellrie lets out a small snort with a whisper that sounds like, “Rumors?”

“Do you have something to say, Dellrie?” I ask, already feeling my temper rising. 

“May I speak candidly, Your Majesty?” he asks, leveling a stare at me. I feel the Council tense up.

“Go on.”

“These rumors do not seem like rumors at all. You were seen sneaking out the other day to Milo’s house without a guard. Why would the king go to see a servant in the early hours of the morning if not for…” he trails off. When he continues, his voice is stronger. “And I must say that this Council—” he cuts his words off again when the Council glares at him. “—fine, I find it suspicious that, on the very day we inform you of these rumors, you change the arrangement between you and Milo, ordering him to stay at his home. We have also not missed how much more like a servant he acts around you. Is it a coincidence? Maybe. I, for one, don’t think so.”

“You don’t, do you?” I ask. Again, I find myself on my feet. Dellrie stands, too.

“I don’t. If these rumors are baseless, as you say, then squash them with a firm fist. Marry a noblewoman, father a child. At the very least, get caught sleeping with a woman!”

“I am gay!” I shout at him. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I did. Not a single member of the Small Council looks surprised. In fact, Dellrie looks satisfied at last. “I’m gay and I’m dating Milo. And, yes, he happens to be a servant, but I couldn’t give less of a damn. I will not marry a woman to placate people who have an issue with me being gay. In fact, if any of you have an issue serving a gay king, you can leave right now!”

Nobody moves, not even Dellrie, though he turns to Yora and says, “You owe me fifty gold crowns.”

*Milo*

I’m pacing around Aaron’s room, worry filling ever fiber of my being. That woman had to be the one the old woman was talking about. It can’t be just a coincidence. I’m now certain that magic is real, that the fortune was real, and that this woman would bring about ruin on Aaron. I have to tell him about the prediction I received. But, how will I do it without telling him about Criston? 

There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to tell him.

Just as I’m coming to this revelation, his bedroom door opens and Aaron strides in, shutting the door behind him. He walks right up to me, grabs my head, and kisses me firmly.

“What’s gotten into you?” I ask when we break apart. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“I don’t care,” he says, kissing me again. His lips move from my mouth to my neck and I turn into jelly in his arms. “I told the Small Council about us,” he adds between kisses on my neck. I try to pull away, but he won’t let me.

“They don’t care,” he says. “Even Dellrie. They were taking my word for it that the rumors were false, though they didn’t believe it. All that stuff about marrying a woman, they were trying to get rid of the rumors. I want you to fuck me, right here, right now.”

I suppose telling him about the prediction can wait.

He pulls off my shirt and starts kissing his way down my body until he’s on his knees before me. He grabs the hem of my pants and pulls them down. I’m not hard yet, but he doesn’t seem to care. He just seems happy that things are progressing for us. I am, too, but I’m also worried. 

That worry vanishes when he pulls my soft cock into his mouth and I feel the blood rushing from one head to the other. He seems insatiable, the way he’s swallowing me down. He’s never blown me like this before, twisting his head as he works my cock with his throat. I groan in pleasure as he grips my balls and tugs on them, my hand in his hair.

I let him work his magic for several minutes before pulling him up and depositing him onto his bed, right after making him take off all his clothes, of course. He lifts his legs into the air, his hands behind his knees.

“Eat my ass,” he practically begs. “I need your tongue in me.”

I oblige, dropping to the side of the bed and eating his ass like a starving man, one of my hands working his cock. I want to savor this moment, I really do, but I need to talk to him about Criston. I need to come clean. Part of me feels dishonest, fucking him right before he might break up with me.

I don’t spend as much time eating his ass as I normally would have done, but instead stand up and grab my bottle of lube, lather up my cock, and slide right in. 

When my pelvis meets his ass, my resolve to tell him about Criston wavers. He feels so perfect around my cock. What if I lose this, lose him forever?

I put it out of my mind as I fuck him, my cock sliding in and out of his hole, my lubed hand sliding over his cock. He’s flexing his abs for me again, the showoff. Though, I truly don’t mind. 

“Harder!” he says, and I start slamming into him, aiming for his prostate as I always do. 

My clean hand moves up and wraps around his throat and I see his eyes roll back into his head. I wonder if this is why I enjoy his eyerolls so much. He’s gasping as I fuck him, slamming into him. 

I lean back, letting his throat go, to watch my cock slide in and out of his tight hole. He clenches his ass and that’s all it takes. The way this man can manipulate my body with nothing more is insane. I explode inside him, filling him up. 

I drop before him and suck his cock into my mouth. I don’t really mind the taste of the lube, and it makes his cock slip in and out of my throat like it’s nothing. He starts to buck, fucking my throat, his hands on my head. I’m starting to lose my breath, as he hasn’t pulled out enough for me to breathe, but I don’t care. I could die here and I would be a happy man.

*Aaron*

We’re fully clothed now, sitting on my bed looking at each other. I’m about to tell him he should move in here full time, but then he starts speaking.

“I have to tell you…something,” he says. 

“What is it?” I lean over, feeling a smile on my lips. I hope it’s something good.

“I don’t think you should trust Piper,” he says. I roll my eyes and see a smile crack the corner of his lips but there’s something off in his expression. I know he enjoys my annoyance, but it’s like he thinks it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see it.

“Why is that?” I ask.

“The fortune teller told me a raven-haired woman with icy blue eyes doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

I roll my eyes again. “You’re not going to believe that old crone, are you?”

“Aaron, she knew something. I don’t know how she could have known, but she said that I’m…harboring a dark secret. Something I was worried would make me lose you forever.”

I lean away from him and his face shows instant fear.

“What are you hiding from me?” I ask.

“Do you remember Tanner, the private detective?” I nod. “He showed me pictures of Criston giving money to the Red Hand about a week before the attacks on the city.”

“You…knew Criston was in the Red Hand and didn’t tell me?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t trust Corianne.”

“But in the library, you said—”

“I know. I was lying. I wanted you two to think I trusted her, to make her lower her guard around me.”

“But she wasn’t doing anything wrong,” I say with a small laugh, not sure why he’s being so serious about this. Then, it hits me. “If you’d have told me, they might not have had the funding for the attack and…Corianne…my father…”

“Aaron,” he says, his voice cracking. He reaches a hand out to me, but I swat it away and stand, striding towards the door. “Aaron, wait!”

When I turn around to look at him, I see he’s right behind me, and his face shows fear. He’s scared of me. 

“If you would have just listened to me, the attack might not have happened!” I almost yell at him. I don’t want anyone in the corridor to hear me, though I’m sure it’s just Oswald outside. “If you’d have told me, we could have arrested Criston. Did it ever occur to you that, if he and Corianne were working together, we might have gotten that information out of him? Or he would have come clean about Corianne’s innocence?”

“I…no…” he admits.

“And because of your mistrust, which was misplaced, I’ll remind you, the attack happened and my father was assassinated!”

Tears are spilling down his face, but I find I don’t care at the moment.

“And,” I continue, “it’s been weeks! Weeks since my father died, weeks since you knew about Criston’s dealings with the Red Hand. You’ve been lying to me for months!”

“I know,” he says, his voice cracking again. “Aaron, I’m so sorry, I—”

But I don’t let him finish. I storm from my room and Oswald follows me. As we walk through the palace, Oswald doesn’t say anything. Whether he heard me talking to Milo, I don’t know and I don’t care. 

“Milo is in my bedchambers,” I tell a guard I pass. “Go to him and make sure he doesn’t leave the palace under any circumstances. He’s under house arrest and is to remain here. Do you understand?”

The guard nods and starts heading that way.

“Sire, what are we—” Oswald begins, but I silence him with a hand. 

We continue on until I reach the war chambers where I find Pallenore talking to one of his soldiers.

“General Pallenore, we’re moving on Criston immediately. I’m going too.”

“Your Majesty, I don’t think that’s a wise—” beings Pallenore.

“I don’t care! I am the king and I’m ordering you to send me with a unit of soldiers to Desparr. We will wait until the Red Hand is holding a meeting and we will storm in. But you are to leave Criston to me, understood?”

“Yes, sire.”

***

Later that day, Oswald, a group of solders, and I ride out toward the eastern town of Desparr. I’m furious at Milo, but I don’t know what to do about that right now, so I’m solving the only problem I can.

I’m going to kill Criston.