A Recipe of Dark Desire

Synopsis: A royal alchemist accidentally enchants his Empress to serve him. (Note: Contains light dub-con.)

Author's Note: A story I wrote for a client. I welcome any feedback you may have! I hope you enjoy it!

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A RECIPE OF DARK DESIRE

Section I.

A twig snapped under my heel as I crept out of the palace window. The moon was full, the grass below glistening with dew. I glanced left and right for any sign of passing sentries. Seeing none, I tightened the sash of my burlap robe and leapt down to the forbidden world below.

There was a party just nearby, you see. And after hours of studying The Properties of Reptile Blood--not a page-turner by any means--I could stand it no longer. I heard faint laughter, dancing and music, and clinking glasses just beyond the cobblestone path where the royal orchid garden--prohibited by one of my station--lay walled off by hedges twice my height. It was a world wholly unfamiliar, but it called to me nonetheless.

There, I saw a small opening in an ivy trellis and peaked inside.

Rows of dining tables were arranged upon the cobblestone, seating people, both young and old, in formal dress. Their silken robes and gowns shimmered beside flickering braziers whilst they poured their wine, bellowed their jokes, and servants carved their roast boar. Esteemed dignitaries of Porto Mathis had been invited to the palace that morning, and so the royals held a ball of obviously considerable expense. But I was not remotely interested in them.

I gasped. There she was.

Striding beside her father, the Imperial Emperor himself, was the young heiress Lady Kannon. Her burnished hair flowed long and wavy, as dark as polished mahogany. Her doe-like eyes were flecked with gray, and her skin pale as the palace's marble doors. Half-moon earrings dangled from her small ears.

Despite her youth, she was quite tall and slender, and had a smile that almost made living worth the trouble. Tonight, she was dressed in a black gown adorned with gold tassels, and I thought there was no one more beautiful than her.

Imagine my surprise when she turned to my direction. She furrowed her brow, squinting, and for a moment I thought she saw me hidden in the foliage. Then, she grinned from ear-to-ear and gestured with a modest wave.

Was she waving at me?

I would never find out.

"Fornault! What are you doing there, boy?!"

My escapade ended as I felt a rough hand on my ear, tearing me away from the foliage. I spun around, and to my dread, it was Master Karkaroth himself.

"Spying on the imperial heiress yet again, boy?! For shame!" He sneered and struck the back of my head. "I should throw you back on the streets where I found you!"

"Master Karkaroth, I beg your forgiveness. It will never happen again!" I clutched my head in pain.

"I should hope not! Your station is your studies! And need I remind that you have fallen behind?! Leave your ill-fated fantasies behind!"

"I-I understand, milord!"

He scoffed. "Return to your chambers before I hit you again!"

I learned at that early age--no thanks to Karkaroth--that some things would never be. Years passed, and before my twentieth birthday, that same Karkaroth had succumbed to a lifetime of noxious fumes, and the young heiress Lady Kannon, whom had stolen a room in my heart, had ascended to the throne as the most powerful Empress in the Legrane Empire's long history.

She was forever out of reach. At least, I thought she was.

Section II.

Before I continue, I will name myself. I am the Royal Librarian Fornault, but I was not always called this.

Adopted by a lineage of noble alchemists, I was raised at the young age of six to be educated in the ways of apothecaries and "The Old Word" so that I may succeed my Master. Known only as Fornault, I was often a troublesome student, preferring to mix breads over brews. But most in the palace, by the time of my master's passing, had agreed to my chagrin that I had become the preeminent authority in the field of alchemy. And I was quickly pushed into the role of "Royal Alchemist" and given sole custody of the palace's library in the East Tower, despite dreading the fancy, new responsibilities I would soon have.

There was yet one upside: Although we were not close, I would receive occasional visits from Lady--now Empress--Kannon. Always she called me "Lord Alchemist", while I addressed her only as "Her Majesty".

It was the year 346, in my mid-twenties, when this paradigm changed in ways I could never have predicted.

"Attention all courts! Guards! The Empress has returned from the front! Make way!"

"Oop," I uttered. I stood up quickly, spilling tea on my trousers. "Ah, damn it!"

I was seated at my desk, reading a recipe on cherry pastries, when I heard the distant sound of boots and armor down the hall.

"Fornault!" The doorman whispered. "Her Majesty is here! Are you decent?"

"Yes, just a moment!" I patted my hair, wiped my glasses, and retrieved a small vial from a drawer. "I did not expect her quite so soon! Was she not fighting at the southern border only yesterday?!"

"I heard she was injured in battle," the doorman replied. "Mayhap it hastened her return."

"Hmm..."

I looked around at the state of my unkempt abode, and groaned.

The granite walls of the Royal Library, my habitation and place of work both, were stacked with floors upon floors--fifteen floors in fact--of bookshelves and tomes that I consumed daily like bread and butter. An ornate, red-carpet staircase spiraled around the walls like a corkscrew colossus, leading to my modest bedchamber at the very top of the tower. And here at my desk, on the ground level, was where I did my alchemy work.

I heard a mingling of footsteps outside, both soft and metallic. The Empress was always accompanied by her two handmaidens (although personally they looked more like bodyguards). So, when I heard their clanking footsteps, I knew she was not far behind.

Her silhouette appeared in the archway, blocking the sun.

Kannon was not quite the same person as she was in my youth. She was yet tall and athletic, with dark chestnut hair braided in a bun and a ponytail that tumbled voluminously down her back. Her dress glittered emerald green, worn under a form-fitting breastplate, bracers, and boots that accentuated her figure. At the risk of revealing my own preferences, she was also curvy in every place that counted, flaunting a long neck, ample bosom, and svelte waist. A saber without a scabbard was belted to her hip, which said more than enough to anyone unfamiliar with her. I found her intimidating gait and picturesque femininity both alluring and terrifying in their contrast.

Her heels echoed in the tower as she walked in, half-moon earrings fluttering as she glanced around. I froze when her gaze fell upon the open book on my desk.

"Cherry pastries?" She commented, her tone polite but distant. "I rather like those myself, but I should hope you've not been idle, Lord Alchemist. I require the salve for my wound. Is it ready?

I quickly reached out and slammed the book shut, my face burning hotly.

"M-my apologies, Your Majesty." I knelt and presented the vial. "I regret that you had to personally retrieve it with your injury."

"Thank you. No apologies are needed. Such things are unavoidable in times of war, and it will not be the last time. Truth be told, I will return to the frontlines as soon as I am able."

She reached out and took the vial, and I felt my beat of my heart when her slender fingers briefly brushed mine.

That heart leapt a chasm when she took a seat upon the couch and stretched out her leg. She pulled the hem of her dress all the way up to her thigh, and I glimpsed her bare skin. There it was--the ugly rupture of her arrow wound. And to my shame, I could not look away.

Gwundfair, one of her ladies-in-waiting, took notice. I never did like her.

"You perverted swine! How dare you espy Her Imperial Majesty that way! I should gut you like the pig you are!" She reached for her sword.

"Stay your hand, Gwundfair. He means me no harm."

"But--"

"He is but a lonely man. Let his imagination remain his wife."

I winced. I didn't like hearing that from Kannon, of all people.

"Do you mind, Lord Alchemist?" She spared me no glance.

"M-my apologies, Your Majesty." I looked away.

If it would be believed, Kannon was of similar age to me. I could not forget the moment I laid eyes on her for the first time in the royal orchid garden. Whenever she spoke to me with personal demands, I squirreled away those feelings--both romantic and sensual--like dirty laundry. And with the passing years, both love and desire became a dream so long unremembered.

"You may turn around, Lord Alchemist," she said.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "There is yet some pain, but the wound appeared to dissolve, and seems to leave no scarring. Thank you for your assistance."

"Tis my duty to serve you, Your Majesty."

"Indeed. Which brings me to the second reason I've come here."

I furrowed my brow. Was there something else?

"Gwundfair, bring it in!" She motioned.

The Empress's handmaidens grunted and clambered into the room, carrying between them a grungy, wooden crate with rusted handles. I covered my mouth when they dropped it with a loud thump, plumes of dust smoking into the air.

"Wh-wh-what is this?" I coughed.

The Empress rose with a smile. I wanted to believe it was a good smile then.

"When we laid siege to the kingdom of Porto Mathis at our southern border," she began. "I announced to my people that we invaded for the Empire's protection. And to my Knight Commanders, I said it was to secure precious metals and jewels from their mines. But both are a lie. There are in fact ruins in Porto Mathis that are over a thousand years old. And these ruins contain relics from another time. An empire, in fact, that predates ours."

I kept my mouth shut. Her Majesty was aware that I never approved of her war, but this was no time to argue with her.

"I suppose that piques my interest," I said. "But I don't understand. What value would such relics have for us to wage war?"

"Fair question. It was said this ancient empire was ruled by an emperor with a magical power beyond imagination. It is said his servants were unfailing, and all would speak for the emperor himself. He nearly united this continent under his banner, and such was his power that even visiting dignitaries would pledge their allegiance overnight."

"And you believe these relics would hold the secret to his magic?"

"I don't believe it, Lord Alchemist. I expect it," she said matter-of-factly. "Our soldiers grow weary. These relics would turn the tides of the war. And with this magic, our Empire would regain the territories it has lost, and more."

"I don't doubt it."

"Alas, the relics in this crate are all grimoires. And my personal scholars are unable to read them. But you are well-versed in The Old Word, are you not?"

"Well," I mumbled, flipping open one of the dusty tomes. "It would take time, but I can translate them, I think."

"Well..." She paused, leering at my pastry cookbook. "Time is something you have plenty of, it seems. I shall return in two weeks' time for an update. Is that fair?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Very," I sighed.

"Very good."

She rose from the chair and, followed by her two ladies-in-waiting, shut the heavy doors behind her. I exhaled at last.

Not the same person, indeed.

Section III.

Over the two-week period, I had little else on my mind but the grimoires I had been ordered to sift through. I read through each one, tediously marking copies with a care and patience that I daresay the Empress would scarcely find elsewhere.

Unfortunately, as the days passed, it became painfully clear that these "relics" were nothing more than a pile of decaying books. Such bad news would probably upset Her Majesty, but I tried convincing myself that this was no fault of mine.

And then it happened.

"What is this?" I said one evening.

At the very bottom of the crate, there sat a strange, black grimoire bearing no title. The thick, leather cover had nary a scratch on it, and the gold embroidery still shimmered when I held it steady in the light. It was immaculately hand-written, and I could barely make out faded drawings of strange and exotic foods.

One page in particular drew my interest. Alligator's heart? Powdered falcon's feathers? Eggs of praying mantis? I could not imagine the sort of concoction this particular recipe would result in. A footnote at the bottom of the page told me all I needed to know: "A dessert for making friends."

"A cookbook, then?" I said to myself. It tickled my inner culinarian and alchemist both.

The quickest way to one's heart in any culture was food, and this was no different with me. Nor was it any different with Her Majesty. She would not pass on a sweet treat.

Having finished my translation work ahead of time, I enthusiastically began collecting the ingredients for whatever pastry this was in the hopes of softening the blow.

By the second Sunday evening, I finally mixed the concoction in my cauldron with relative ease. The multi-colored mixture frothed and bubbled angrily.

The last ingredient in the list was inked clearly and underlined as if to emphasize importance. A single strand of your hair, it read. I wagered this to be of cultural significance, not so much for flavour, as home cooks from South Stonemill often did this to honor their ancestors.

Wincing, I plucked one of my auburn hairs from the top of my head and dropped it in. Then, I lifted the heavy cauldron and shoved it into the oven.

My work done, I lounged in my satin chair, enjoying a drink and a brief respite.

It was five minutes before eleven.

"Lord Alchemist, are you there?"

My eyes snapped open. Was I imagining things?

"Y-your Majesty, is that you?" I stood up.

The twin doors of the Royal Library swung open, bathing the dusty floor in moonlight. In a rare sight, Her Majesty was dressed in her white evening gown, adorned with tassels dangling from her hips and chest. Her hair was braided in an appealing bun, and I must admit I forgot to breathe yet again.

"Your Majesty, I... I was given no notice of your visit."

"This is my palace," she said simply. "Notice of my visits need not be given."

"Y-yes. Of course..." I stuttered.

"Lord Alchemist, I've heard no updates on your progress. I was concerned. Have you finished perusing the tomes I left you?"

"I, um, well, yes," I started. "It went very well, actually. I was in fact planning to call upon you on the morrow.

"Oh!" She clasped her fingers with delight. "Did you? That is... actually, wonderful news. May I ask what you have learned?"

"I, well," I hesitated as Kannon looked at me expectantly.

"Yes," I lied. "Yes, I found something... very intriguing. Very, very intriguing. Very, very good."

"I see!" Her eyes grew wide with interest. "Well, don't leave me in suspense. What is it?"

"It's a--"

The cuckoo clock suddenly chimed, striking the top of the hour. A spring-loaded rooster burst from within--an invention by my late master--signaling a half-hour had passed.

"Actually--" I interrupted myself. "Perfect timing. Would you give me a moment?"

"Wha--" She sulked.

I scurried back to the oven, slipped my mitts back on once more, and pulled the handle. A wave of heat hit my face, but it was nothing compared to the bizarre aroma; I could only describe it as a honeyed steak and butter orange, and the Empress seemed to notice.

"What IS that?" She peered over, sniffing. "What is that strange smell?"

I plopped the cauldron on my desk, hot steam wafting upward. With a grunt, I flipped the cauldron over, and a spongy, gray cake plopped onto the tray below, no longer resembling the multi-colored brew.

I grabbed a metal pitcher filled with a dark liquid I prepared earlier, then I hovered over the cake and tilted it. The viscous, brown liquid spilled forth like molten lava, forming layers of rich decadence that solidified into a glossy, velvet coat. I had never made anything like it.

"Oh, a Sachertorte, then?" Kannon exclaimed.

"A what?" I turned.

"Tis a cake from a distant land. A mixture of flours, butters, and sweets are mixed to create a pie that is then coated in liquid chocolate. I admit I have never seen one in-person..."

"I see," I sighed. "I must confess, Your Imperial Majesty, that this... Sachertorte, was in fact a recipe from one of the tomes. An ancient cookbook, you see. I thought you might... I mean to say that I thought this cake would interest you. However, it does contain questionable ingredients, and it would be irresponsible of me not to try it first."

She nodded. "I understand, Lord Alchemist. Very well. You have my permission to test it."

I retrieved two of my nicest dishes from the cupboard and placed them on the desk. With a fork and knife, I cut into the cake and neatly placed a slice on my own dish. Its chocolate layer glistened freshly.

"Here it goes." I prayed, and took a bite.

I shuddered violently. Undertones of bitterness and sourness spread over my tongue, and the cavalcade of flavors overwhelmed me such that I nearly keeled over. I would have spat it out were I not in Her Majesty's presence. I could not remember the last time I tried something so terrible.

But the Empress appeared undeterred.

"Let me try."

She picked up my fork, cut a small piece, and put it into her mouth. For a moment, as she chewed, she seemed confused. Then she took another bite, and then another. And for the first time I can remember, I saw a genuine smile creep up on her face.

"Delicious! The sweetness is perfect! It is rich, but not overwhelming. I can't get enough!"

"That's odd... it didn't taste sweet at all." I frowned. "I can't explain..."

No sooner had I said so when suddenly Kannon's fork clattered to the floor. Her knees buckled, and I grabbed her limp frame in my arms where she dangled unconscious.

"Your Majesty?! Are you alright?!"

My heart raced. Something was wrong.

Section IV.

I lay Kannon on my satin couch on the far side of the room. She was short of breath, and her cheeks flushed with red. I would have blamed the widow's venom had I not felt perfectly fine. An allergic reaction, perhaps?

I filled a cup of water from my cistern and brought it to her lips. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her forehead was burning hot. Truth be told, a part of me was panicking that if the Empress had died here due to my negligence, not only would I be responsible for her death, but I would be blamed for her murder.

"L-Lord Fornault," she muttered, holding the back of her hand to her forehead. "What's happening?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty. Lay still. I'll get you more water."

"Stay," she called out firmly. "I command you to stay."

"As you wish, Your Majesty, but I must needs get you--"

"No. No, I think I... I think I'm getting better."

"You don't look it."

By the moonlight of the window, I could see a cold sweat had broken out on her cheeks and neck.

"It was the cake, I think," she mumbled. "It's done something to me... strange thoughts, Fornault."

A whirlwind happened then. Even now, I cannot describe the chain of events that lead to what happened next.

Kannon sat up suddenly, and before I could jump away, I felt a plush softness on my lips that nearly drowned me. Her scent of orchids, the same one I knew from the gardens so long ago, filled my nostrils as the tip of her nose pressed into mine. I felt the moisture of her lips from the cold water, and I became delirious and ashamed and confused all at once when I realized that this was actually a kiss, and that she had instigated it, to my astonishment.