Serving the King Ch. 03

I come from a long line of merchants and traders. My grandfather had a knack for knowing people and knowing how to give them what they want. My father, however, was a merchant of little talent, which led to my family's debts. Those debts, mixed with a large dose of infatuation for my lord king that started the first time I saw him perched on his throne presiding over court, are what led me to start a love affair with the king and suggest he take me on as an official mistress. Being a mistress would put me in a position of comfort, where I could send money home to my mother and father to pay their debts. And I'd be able to live an easier life.

As I said, my father was not the most cunning trader, but my grandfather... he was a force to be reckoned with, and he passed on some of his knowledge to me. "Arabela," he would tell me, "people don't know what they want. If a merchant tries to cater to what people say they want, he'll spend his life dealing with people complaining that what they got didn't really make them happy. A good trader doesn't just try and give someone what they need, they create that need in the first place. Do you understand?"

It was hard to explain all of that to a little girl, but he persisted. I think he saw that my father had failed to understand the intricacies of the business, and wanted someone in the family to keep the skills alive. So grandpa tried to teach me what he could, when he could.

"Make them want what you have," he told me. "Make them need it... then take it away. Wait for them to get desperate so that they come to you. If you do really well, you can even make them think that the whole thing was their idea. Once they need what you provide and you've proven that you can give it to them or take it away whenever you want... that's when you've got them hooked."

So the first thing I had done with the king was make him want me. He'd seen me a few times around the castle, fluttering my eyelashes and looking shyly away. Then he saw me in his room, vulnerable and beautiful, and he wanted me. I let him have me, have a taste.

Almost a month we'd carried on in secret, managing to sneak time for lovemaking no more than a handful of times. Then I had suggested, in an offhand way, that he take me on as a mistress. I told him to forget about it, that surely it could never work, and I left the thought at the back of his mind to simmer. The next step was the hardest, and it would have made my grandfather proud... if not for the extramarital sex thing.

I walked away.

For three weeks, I stayed away from his majesty. I made sure to get to his chambers just a little earlier, so my job could be done before he got out of his bath. I wanted him to miss me, to worry that he might lose me, to feel desperate. One time he managed to catch sight of me, but there were too many other servants around for him to be willing to make a public show, so he settled for giving me a longing look that I returned. And so it went.

If things went well, he would tell his wife, Queen Rosalyn, that he would be taking on a mistress in an official capacity. And if I was very, very lucky, she wouldn't murder him on the spot. If things went poorly, he would simply find another young, seemingly naive woman and start again fresh.

But I had him hooked.

For three weeks I waited, nervous, hoping my gambit would pay off. I was scared of losing everything I'd built up. Not just my job, not just my chance at a comfortable life, but him.

The realization that I wanted the king, not just for his power and position and what he could give me, but as a person... that was scarier than any threats the queen had previously made to me. And so I performed my duty, tending to the queen and the king's bedchambers, washing sheets and making beds and tidying to the royal satisfaction.

Another period came and went, telling me that our last bout of fucking hadn't resulted in the child I was hoping for. If all of the clever planning failed, carrying a royal bastard would have gotten me a piece of the good life in and of itself.

Then, almost two months after the first time the king and I had touched, I was pulling silk sheets over the queen's bed when she approached. She seemed to like doing that, waiting for me to be busy so she could make me drop everything to attend to her. I think it was a way of her reminding me who had the power: she was queen, rich and powerful, and I was just a servant who cleaned her room.

I left the sheet half-on and half-off the bed, and dipped into a low curtsey before her highness. I had deliberated on how I would act when... if this moment came. Ultimately, courtesy and grace won out for me.

"Your highness," I greeted the queen. I had been using the term majesty for her before, out of respect, but technically she was just 'highness' while the king was 'majesty'. It was, after all, his family that had been ruling Amella for generations.

"Arabela." She had obviously given up on the game of pretending to not know my name. "I believe we had a chat, some few weeks ago, no?"

"Yes, your highness. You told me to act with... discretion."

"And do you think you have been?" Her voice was tight, sharp. It reminded me of a string of metal, pulled taught but still strong enough to cut through flesh.

"I haven't seen his royal majesty in weeks. That seems quite discreet."

"Was the mistress situation his idea or yours?"

"I'm not sure I follow, your highness," I told her through lowered lashes, staring down at the floor. I was getting bolder, but not so bold that I was going to directly challenge her.

"No, I'm just sure you don't," she said, then sighed and turned. She regarded herself in the mirror, watching her own face as she spoke. "Just so you know, I've given him my blessing."

"You..." I stuttered, trying to make my brain catch up as she switched from subtly threatening to suddenly gracious. "You have?"

"I thought you didn't know what I was talking about," she smirked, and I saw her watching me intently through the reflection. "If you want to survive, you'll need to be just a bit smoother than that, dear.

As an official mistress, you're going to be part of the court. All the gossip, the back-biting, the two-faced liars... you're going to be in the middle of all of it, and they won't be as kind to you as I have."

"Thank you," I told her, meaning it. "Why... why did you agree?"

"Partly for convenience," she admitted. "Since taking up with you, there have been fewer nights of him stumbling into my bedroom half-drunk and taking a poke at me." I winced, and something in her face looked triumphant, as if seeing the discomfort I felt at hearing about the less pleasant side of King Edward made her feel vindicated. "And because if I didn't agree he would just keep on sneaking around anyway, getting less and less careful over time until it was common knowledge that he was sleeping with this girl or that one behind my back. I'd rather it just be out in the open."

I nodded, and her eyes fixed on mine through the reflection of the mirror. "But let me make one thing clear." She enunciated each syllable carefully, and I almost shivered at her intensity. "I am still his wife. It was my relationship that the priest blessed, my family's agreement with his that helped solidify his power. If there are ever any offspring, and I will continue to periodically make use of him to that end, it is my children that will sit upon the throne. Is that clear?"

"Yes, your highness," I said, lowering my eyes again. Truthfully, I hadn't ever believed a child of mine would ever sit on the throne. But if I got pregnant and she never did... I pushed the thought out of my mind for the moment.

"Very good," she told me, switching back to her neutral, imperious tone of voice. "Do finish up with the bed."

I turned back to my work, carefully fitting sheets over the edges of the mattress, smoothing them down so there was not a single wrinkle visible. Her eyes never left me the whole time, watching me as I worked. Still a servant.

When I was finished, she made a point of giving the bed a look-over as if she would reprimand me for doing a poor job, but ultimately she just gave me a nod. I dipped into another curtsey, a hair shallower than before, and took my leave. That was probably the last time I'd ever have to make her bed, but she'd made sure to make the most of it.

I took a moment out in the hall to collect myself. For all of my bravado, the queen was still genuinely frightening. I reminded myself that she wouldn't do anything now - directly starting a conflict with the king's mistress would just make her look petty and jealous, which would be more embarrassing for her.

That was not quite as convincing as I'd hoped it would be, but I tucked my worries aside for now. Today was a good day for me, and fretting would only spoil it.

Straightening my back, I strutted down the hallway, towards the king's room, and felt my confidence returning. King Edward would surely be waiting for me, and now that we didn't have to sneak around...

I paused as a man stepped out of the king's room. I recognized the head butler immediately, and got halfway to a polite curtsy before I realized that I didn't know which of us had a higher rank now. I was no longer on the cleaning staff, so he was no longer my supervisor, and curtseying to the staff would technically be below my station. But I still respected Arnold, so I settled for a nod of recognition.

"Good morning to you, madam," he greeted me, his voice perfectly formal. "If you would be so good as to follow me?"

"Madam?" I asked, feeling a little bit uncomfortable as I walked beside him. It was true that I technically had a ranking within the house now, but the formality felt a bit weird. "That feels a bit stuffy, Arnold. Yesterday you were calling me Arabela, can't we just stick with that?"

"I'd prefer not, madam," he said, looking equally uncomfortable. "I need to get used to your new station. It wouldn't do to slip up and act like you were part of the... common rabble, now would it?"

It felt odd, and a little lonely, to be suddenly socially separated from the people I'd been working with for months. I had to remind myself that I wanted this status, this social elevation. We were silent as he led me down the hallway and around a corner, back the way I had come from.

There were a few doors off this hallway other than the king and queen's rooms. This one was further back, closer to the servant's stairs than the grand staircase. Arnold opened the door and beckoned me inside. I'd been in all of these rooms a couple of times each, so I was vaguely familiar with their layout. They were partitioned into two rooms and a washroom, the same as the king and queen's, only smaller and less grandly furnished.

"I hope your room is to your liking," Arnold told me, and I stopped short.

I'd known that I would have my own room closer to the king's, but... "This is a royal family suite. It's suited for a cousin or child or..."

"Or the king's mistress, ma'am," Arnold added. "We will have the remainder of your possessions brought up to your rooms. We don't have a handmaid ready for you, but we'll try and find someone to see to your needs in the interim."

"A handmaid?" I asked, incredulous. That one caught me off-guard. The queen had two or three handmaidens at any given time, but I didn't think someone as lowly as a mistress would have that kind of luxury.

"Yes, ma'am, although as I said we don't have one lined up just yet. Your promotion was... unexpected."

I walked a slow loop around the sitting room, which amounted to little more than a desk, some shelves for books, a small table with two chairs, and a pair of plush chairs by a fireplace. It was twice as big as my old room in the servants' quarters, and that wasn't even including the attached bedroom.

"It's wonderful, Arnold," I couldn't quite keep the wonder from my voice as I spoke. "Thank you."

"I live to serve, madam," he answered in that same voice that I always heard him use when dealing with members of the court. Friendly, but not friends. Warm, but still aloof. "All of the additional bedrooms in this wing are cleaned daily, so yours will be done at the same time as the others. Lunch will be brought up to your rooms at midday, unless you'd prefer to take it in the garden or elsewhere, of course. Your clothes have already been brought up, in case you want to change out of the... uniform."

There was so much information, my mind was spinning. I would have my own rooms and a handmaid, and my own wardrobe, I could wear my nice dresses, and probably buy more... It was all so much.

"Thank you again, Arnold."

"Of course, ma'am," he said, giving me a shallow bow. "If that is all..."

"Oh, right," I stammered, suddenly realizing that he had been waiting for me to speak. He could no longer just walk away when he was done talking, he had to wait for me to dismiss him. That would take some getting used to. "Yes, that will be all."

With that, he gave another short bow, then spun on a heel and strode out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him.

I walked in another slow loop around the room, taking it all in. I'd been in this room before, to clean, but it felt like I was seeing it for the first time. I opened my door and stepped into my bedroom, staring in wide-eyed delight at my bed. It was half the size of his majesty's, but it was huge. Certainly larger and plusher than what I'd been sleeping on recently, and larger than my rooms at home had been.

Unable to hold myself back, I ran and jumped onto the bed, landing on my butt on the soft mattress. I flopped backwards, spread-eagled, and lay in the center of the bed. My bed. I couldn't restrain a laugh of delight. Half an hour ago, I had been ready for another day of work and the lingering question of whether or not the king would accept me as his mistress. And now...

I looked down at my dress and apron, and grinned even wider. I didn't need this silly thing anymore.

Tugging at the knots, I undid the apron and slung it over a chair, and the dress went next so that I was left in just my shift. I laid my servant's uniform over a chair and strode over to my wardrobe, pulling it open to look at all of my clothes. I was giddy at getting to dress up nice again, but couldn't help but feel a little disappointed as I looked over my options. Was that it? My dresses would be considered lovely in my old neighborhood, but in the royal court...

"I need new clothes," I said aloud. "I need to go shopping."

I glanced at the window, where the shining sun told me that I had a whole day ahead of me. I could hit a lot of shops if I set out now...

My fantasies of clothes shopping were interrupted by a knock at the door to my rooms. I almost walked out of the bedroom to answer the door, then remembered that I was still half-naked.

"I will be just a minute!" I called. "I'm currently indisposed."

Who would be at the door? The interim handmaid? Arnold? The queen again? I looked over my dress options, trying to decide which would be the most appropriate. Prim and demure, or something more flashy? My hand hovered between the elegant cream cloth and the bright red, trying to decide what tone I wanted to set when the door in the next room suddenly opened.

I yelped in surprise, and jumped behind my bedroom door so whoever was about to walk in wouldn't see me in my under-things. "I'm indisposed!" I called, feeling a little indignant.

I heard footsteps on the rug of my main room, and realized whoever walked in wasn't going to wait politely. I stuck my head around my door to reprimand them, and stopped short when I saw his royal majesty King Edward.

"Your majesty!" I yelped in surprise. "I'm sorry, I had no idea it was you!"

Holding the hem of my shift, I gave him a curtsy. As I dipped down, I realized how silly it was to be doing such a proper sign of respect while wearing little more than underwear.

"Oh, please don't hurry on my account," he said, a wide grin on his face. "Take your time, I'm happy to watch."

"I was just trying to pick out my dress for the day, your highness."

"I think what you're wearing now is perfectly suitable." One thing to be said for our lord king is that he wasn't coy, and wasn't shy.

"Suitable for my rooms, perhaps," I told him, turning back towards the wardrobe. "But surely I'll need to pick something for a day on the town. I thought I ought to pick up something a little nicer..."

The sound of his footsteps told me he had followed into the bedroom, and I could feel his eyes watching me as I stood before the wardrobe. "As a peripheral member of the court, I'll be expected to look my best at all times. I have nice clothes, but none of them will do..."

"Are dresses really all you can think about right now?" He asked, his voice coming from closer behind me than before.

I turned in a swish of white satin, and looked up at him. "My lord... I'm so happy you took me on as your mistress. I don't... I don't want to make a mistake and embarrass you. That would be a poor way to thank you."

"I would never be embarrassed by you," he said, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He pulled me towards him, and I happily let him wrap his arms around me. "Besides, I think maybe it's me who should be thanking you."

"How could that possibly be the case?" I took my head from his chest and leaned up towards his mouth. He obliged, pressing his lips to mine and opening his mouth so our tongues could mingle.

"It must be tough to become a mistress," he told me, when he pulled his mouth back so we could catch our breath. "Most women would be too bashful, or shy. And now, we have all the time in the world together. How could I be anything other than thankful?"

"And how should we spend our time?" I asked, then kissed him again. His hands were so warm on my bare shoulders, my back, my neck.

"I'm sure we can think of something," he whispered into my mouth.

He turned, still holding me, pivoting me until my bed was directly behind me. He didn't have to nudge me in that direction. I took his hands in mine and led him back towards the bed. I felt the backs of my thighs against the soft fabric of the blanket, and sat down at the edge.

He stood there in front of me, and I took the opportunity to run my hands down the front of his clothing. As my palms passed over his pants, I felt the evidence of his growing excitement. I let my fingers wander along the top of his pants, until they settled on the buckle of his belt. With a few deft movements I had it open, and I gently tugged his pants until they started sliding down.

I was fixated on my task of unleashing him, and my reward was the sight of his cock swinging free as I finally pulled his clothes down to his thighs. I laid a reverent hand on it, feeling it twitch in my hand as it came alive under my touch.

He was staring down at me, and I looked up to hold his gaze as I slowly stroked his hardening shaft. I could feel his erection finish growing in my palm.

"How could I not be thankful for you?" He asked again, his voice a soft whisper.

"If you're so thankful," I purred, still making full eye contact as I stroked his cock, "I can think of a way you can show your appreciation."

"A new dress?" He teased, and I couldn't help but grin.

"Do you remember, about three weeks ago..."

"In the bath?"

"Mm," I agreed, gently fondling his length in my hands. "You used your mouth..."

"Oh that," he said, and his grin grew even wider. "I think that can be arranged."

I let him drop from my hand and leaned back on the bed, staring up at him. He took a gentle hold of my shift and pulled upwards, and I lifted my arms up as he lifted it over my head and dropped in behind him. I had on nothing but my thin panties and a band of cloth around my breasts. I pulled myself backwards until my head was against my pillows, and he followed eagerly, crawling on the bed after me.