At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 02

To this, she merely stewed in her modest seat on the ground. To say anything, be it in her family's defense or otherwise, would have done absolutely nothing for her. He sounded so confident - but had he not earned the right to be? The walls around them provided evidence in and of themselves. This river. This bridge. All the lost and forgotten souls who had died, so horribly, in its taking - by all accounts.

The mood was suddenly serious, and not even malignant amusement colored his words; he looked intent, almost hungry. Of course, only a voracious appetite for territory and power could motivate the endless barrage of wars the King had waged, and now it showed on his features, a wolfish gleam in his eyes.

"I say this not to make you uneasy," he continued, though this rang false, "but to let you know what you can avoid - if we reach an agreement. If I get what I want, then I am willing to put aside thoughts of war and seek an alliance with your grandfather. But only if." He spoke of an agreement on her part, of reaching a consensus, but it was evident to both of them that these were empty words; he already had her here at his disposal, and it was unlikely he would take no for an answer.

"This agreement requires you, princess, to marry."

And then she couldn't say if that made more or even less damn sense. Well, less. Definitely less. Her head still dully ached from the poison, the dagger-wound still burning into her arm.

"Are you having a go?" she dared to accuse him, frowning in disbelief. He could not have gone through all these pains - and personally, at that - just to arrange a marriage of insult, perhaps one to a relative, perhaps to permanently keep her out of the hands of a house with which her family may ally? This all seemed too ridiculously elaborate for such trifles. But then, from what she had seen of him thus far, it would not have been unlike him to declare such a simple solution only to wrench it away in the world's unfunniest joke.

She inquired, "Who am I marrying?" with a forced lightness of tone to suggest she was playing along.

In all seriousness, she never held the illusion that she would marry for love. She never even thought of herself as being especially picky. As long as he wasn't unbearably malformed or over thirty years older, and as long as he did not disembowel children for sport. As long as he was not one to be despised.

Alexander looked down, meeting her eye for eye. The candlelight cast shadows across his face, throwing his scar into sharp relief at that moment.

"Me," he said simply.

*****

Authors: Thanks for reading! As before, if you liked it, we would appreciate any ratings/favorites/comments - especially the last, because we love hearing what you think! As something of a teaser for next time: since his identity was "revealed" (though I'm sure many of you caught on already), the story will from now on include some sections from Alexander's perspective instead of all from Alais. It'll shed some light into his motivations!