The Duties of The Royal Advisor

Slowly, morning creeps its way into my bedchambers. I feel my bones creak and stretch awake, and still my eyes are reluctant to open themselves to the grey light. The breeze of italian summer, wins me over to the dawn, wafting in sweet warm air from the palace garden. My bare feet touch the floor and I stumble to the window overlooking a stretch of the Adige. Barely daylight and already the path along the river busies itself with carts and errand boys, flower sellers and swindling merchants. Fair Verona. Unchanging, unyielding, both in its stone and in its people.

I dread the day to come, the papers awaiting signature and a city awaiting leadership. After centuries (I am told, though I have a hard time finding it true) the warring Montagues and Capulets have laid down arms against each other. If my reign has taught me nothing at all, it has taught me that peace is simultaneously messy and delicate; I know the treaty will require my vigilance to maintain. My jaw tightens at the thought.

The other option available to me at the moment is far more palatable, and closer in reach. I lean myself against the window sill, my bare back taking the warm air, and watch my bed. My Lady, a perfect porcelain creature, lays wrapped in the sheets. She stirs gently, head no-doubt unconcerned with the worries of my own. I creep back towards her, drawn in by her sight, and her scent- a sweetness I cannot place because I only know it to be hers. She puts a fire in my belly, a hunger only satisfied by her touch. I thank the gods she is so easily at my reach, lest I die of starvation. She lays on her side, which allows the sheets to outline to gorgeous curve of her shape without trouble. The image of her frame in the light pulls me back under the bedcovers and she easily wraps her arms around my waist to pull her prince in closer.

"Good morning, dear one," I smile. She responds to me with a soft murmur and shifts so her head lays on my breast. It's a compelling argument to ignore my duties to the rest of Verona. Serving her takes precedence over them all. I take her fingers in mine and gently kiss them, never taking my eyes off hers. They flutter open, and I stare into their endless deep brown. Her gaze is full of electricity and wanting. Sitting up slightly to witness more of her, I gently run my hand through her dark hair, down her cheek, tracing her jaw, her throat, her sternum, her navel...I feel her sigh deeply at my touch.

"Are you awake, sweet girl?" It nearly kills me to ask. A thousand armies would not be enough to make me force Ronan to lift a single unwilling finger.

She nods. "I am, highness. What would you like of me?" Barely awake, and already quick to recall her duties as my advisor and head of counsel. I am in awe.

"Nothing, my lady." I mumble. I can remain composed to all but her. If she desired, she could weaken the Crown of Verona to a boy stumbling to walk in his father's boots. A gorgeous creature, a goddess, wanting only to serve me, is an honor I know not how I came to possess. She rolls onto her back and I trace her breasts with my fingers, admiring her perfection in the gentle light of daybreak.

"Please, my prince. I want to serve you, however you see fit." Ronan looks up at me with an earnestness, an obedience laid in wanting that makes my breath catch and my sex swell. I smile and draw my fingertips around her soft, full lips. I lean down and kiss her, adjusting myself so I can look upon her more intensely from above.

Slowly, deliberately, I drink in her figure. I've seen it plenty of times, but familiarity with a work of art makes it no less a masterpiece, does it not? Her hips flare from a delicate waist to form full thighs and long legs, which squirm in sleepy delight underneath me. My thumb and forefinger tilt her chin so she meets my gaze.

"My darling girl, your presence alone is enough service to me for a lifetime."

"Are you certain, sir? I'm prepared for anything you need."

"You make a fine point, Councilor. Perhaps I could check," I muse.

"Of course, highness."

My lips meet hers again, deeper this time, and she sighs into them. How a woman such as her is taken with one such as me is a great mystery I will not dare to question. I trail kisses down her jaw, her throat, between her breasts. My mouth finds one of her nipples, the color of soft caramel, I gently roll it on my tongue. She moans, and it's music. I continue down her stomach, past her navel, to find her sweet sex. I can smell how eager she is. As a predator stalks its prey, I salivate in anticipation and release a zealous moan.

"Do I please you, your grace?" She fakes an innocence underneath a coy, sweet pout and I play along.

"Always, my lady," I chuckle.

I run my lips along her thighs and her hands grab my hair like reigns, pulling me closer to her wanting cunt. I nip at the tender spot where her thighs meer her pelvis before at last tasting her wetness. She whimpers as I run my tongue up and down her slit, slowly and hungrily. Finally I draw circles around her hot clit and she moans louder this time.

"Shh. The guards will think I'm hurting you, dear one."

"Maybe I want to you to hurt me."

I can see her blushing, as she says it, and arch an eyebrow in response. "Do you, now?"

"Yes please, sir."

I nip at her thighs again, sinking my teeth into her soft flesh. She yelps and I hush her with a finger before returning to work. She dutifully muffles her own whimpers as I push two fingers inside of her, the nails of my free hand clawing at her ass to keep myself close to her. Harder and faster now, I fuck her with my fingers and lap at her clit. She cries out, unable to contain them any longer as she reaches nearer to release, and I bite down on her inner thigh again. I respond with a hungry growl, curling my fingers inside of her, and finally I can feel her breathing hitch against me and her hips buck. I put my lips around her clit, sucking as if it's my only source in a drought, and she cries out in pleasure, again and again, unyielding waves at high tide. It seems like hours until she is finally still against my touch. Her juices cover my face and I lick her clean until her howls soften to a satisfied purr. I roll onto my stomach, looking into her eyes once again. The kiss we share is soft and tender and passionate and wanting all at once.

We have a few hours left of the morning, my lady and her prince, before duty will call us both to my counsel. The gentle touch of her fingers grazing my shoulder blades soothes me enough to drift off for a moment. I awake and she is gone- dutifully returned to her chambers. It kills me for my skin to be without the touch of hers, but she's more rational than I am. We've the Montague treaty to go over this afternoon, and Venetian dignitaries to appease at dinner this evening. Lady Ronan is crucial in all of these tasks, and those who know nothing of our affair know of her brilliance in affairs of the Italian public. I can only imagine how she will astound me with her counsel this afternoon, how she will dress this evening, the latter of I pray will not melt me into a puddle on sight.

Reluctantly, I pull my trousers on and call in my manservant to help me dress and go over the points of the treaty. He opens the drapes and finally the daylight hits my crown, a golden circlet placed in the center of my chambers. I can no longer ignore the obligations of the crown.

The news of our courtship would alarm my lady's family and the court; my father would have her executed, and I shudder to think what would happen to me. If the nobility of Verona knew their prince, Caleb Escalus, the sole Heir to Verona and protector of its people, took pleasure from his advisor, they'd have a fit. In due time, I'll be in a position where no man will have room to argue with the pleasures I take.

Until then, my lady and I have the dawn.

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Hi everyone! Long time lurker, first time poster. If this is something people are interested in, I might make a series of the prince and his advisor. Thanks for reading!!