Sold to the king

The fan fare was something she normally enjoyed. It usually meant that all attention would be off of her. Today however she would be front and center as today was the day the king of Calldessoria sold his only child, the princess, to the King of Lythania. Her marriage would seal the treaty and tye the two kingdoms together forever.

Alura took as deep a breath as her tightened corset would allow and hoped beyond all hope that the king would demand any other maiden from her father's court. She was not pretty. A fact she knew all too well. She was short with large unwieldy breasts a tiny waist and hips that flared out. Her hair was long thick and wavy. It's color remuncent of blood flowing over her curves. Her eyes, that were often downcast, were the only thing about her appearance that she would not change if only given the chance. They were the gorgeous shade of evergreen needles. Alas she usually hid them in a book. Her preferred genre being adventure.

Now she stood, carefully groomed, next to her father. Exactly where she never wanted to be. He was prone to sudden violent outbursts and often it was her on the receiving end of it. If he could not find her then he would take it out on any of the palace servants who where stupid enough not to flee before him. Alura wanted freedom. And one of the guards had promised to help her get it. However their plans would only work if the king of Lythania wanted nothing to do with her.

She heard the sound of leather snapping and knew that her father had told General Olathous to keep her in line and focused. She looked up and saw a tall powerfully built man riding an enormous stallion up the main road towards them. Was this dark haired man the king of Lythania? His loose white linen shirt draped his torso and was tucked into black wool trousers which were tight around his powerful thighs. His black leather boots were rolled over and reached his knees. Her eyes went up to his stronge clean-shaven jaw. Over his full lips that looked like they had been smeared with strawberry sugar. Up his straight nose that had obviously never been stuck before, weither it was because no dared swing on him or if it was because he was just that good on the field of battle. To eyes of mystifying blue. His long Jet black hair was tied back with a leather string.

He was looking her over just as critically as she had looked him over. She couldn't help but wonder if he liked what he saw. Self-conscious she started to smooth her dress at her waist. It was a garish shade of purple that clashed horribly with her hair. The skirt was filled out with petticoats upon petticoats upon petticoats. While all those petticoats hid the flare of her hips they made getting through narrow door ways impossible. When it was time to go she would need to change into a simple maids dress. The large yellow bows and orange ribbons certainly were not helping the look of the disgusting gown. In her opinion she looked like something off the top of a fancy cake. And not a princess. But she would never tell her father that all the fancy dresses in her closet made her wonder if a little girls imagination had vomited in there.

No one would save her if she did. She would have shuddered at the thought of the violent rage that would ruin another of her gowns if she had not been lifting fifty pounds of fabric on her small frame. Alas could they get the introductions over with before she fainted from heat sickness?

The man she had been admiring stepped down from his horse and she saw that their heads were almost even. Only now did she notice that the horse he rode was much larger than any battle horse in her father's stables. He was striding towards them with the confident air of someone who could easily win a battle single handedly. As she watched him approach she saw his perfect mouth turn to a sneer of distaste. She gasped in surprise and flinched back slightly.

If she ever crossed this man, he would surely end her life. He was easily seven feet tall and built like the walls that held her prisoner. Probably more frightening was the fact that he was a king. Not unlike her father. If growing up in the palace had taught her anything, it was to stay out of her fathers way when he was in his cups. Which was all the time if she was to be honest. It was rare to see the king with out wine, mead, ale or some other type of alcohol in his hand. Today he was actually sober, an even rarer sight. She cast her eyes down away from the forgien kings gaze to stare at his feet.

"King Fenral. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am King Nicolia and This is my daughter, princess Alura." He waved in her direction and king Fenral's eyes slid to her as he once again shamelessly stared at her.

She smiled sweetly at him. "We welcome you to our humble home and hope you will be comfortable here." She said as she dropped a deep courtesy. She saw Fenral looked down the top of her dress to get a look at her breasts. But all that he would find was the fact that she wore a very tight corset.

"Thank you, princess. I am sure my men and I will be quite comfortable here." He said and his deep melodic voice sent shivers down her spine. His words were cold and uncaring. He seemed not to think much of her fathers taste in gowns as he glared at her. She wished he had let her pick the gown she wore for today. She had a sleek green dress that reached to the floor and hung on her body in a way that showed it off. She never wore a corset with the gown as it didn't need one. She always put a black or silver belt at its waist. It would have been perfect to show king Fenral how appealing she could be. She hated her body. But when she wore her green dress she felt powerful and enticing. It was the only one she would be taking with her when she left this place tonight. It had once belonged to her mother and she was not willing to part with it.

He wrinkled his nose and she realized that the perfume she had been forced to wear as well bothered him. Those of Lythania were sensitive of sence. At least that was what she had heard. What he must think of her hair. It had been curled and meticulously arranged on top of her head with so many pins she felt like a pin cushion. Maybe Fenral thought she was one.

"This is Cathous. My beta." She saw him roll his eyes at the one he had called Cathous. He was six foot nine and looked like he could crush heads like grapes. The way he was grinning when he looked at her made her believe he would do it just because he could. Maybe he would crush hers.

"Ah! Yes. I forgot that you are werewolves. Please forgive me. Perhaps we can have a pig slaughtered for your super?" She heard a deep growl coming from Fenral's massive chest as his jaw clenched. She lowered her eyes as she backed up. If Fenral saw fit to end her father she would make no attempt to stop him. Not that she thought she could. Even if she did she would not try in this dress. She just hoped that if it were to happen she could escape with her life.

Suddenly he glanced off the bridge and into the water of the moat. Looked at her and then at the beta who snorted. She wondered what was so funny. Fenral had just looked around and then looked at him. Had he made a face at the beta? Looking at the beta now, he looked like he had just witnessed his own brutal demise.

They entered the palace and she saw something cross his face. Was that pity that she saw in his eyes as he looked at her again. "Alura will show you to your apartments." Her father smiled at her as his motioned to her. She dropped a deep courtesy and started for the rooms that had been prepared for the visiting king.

They walked in complete silence. Something she had been told to do. 'Do not talk or he will reject you. Speak only when spoken to!' Her father had drilled it into her head over the last two months. Some adventurer she was. If she was really an adventurer she would have the guts to defy what she had been told. She supposed that traveling bards were not necessarily known for their acts of courage.

She turned and went to say something to him when she felt her petticoats being pulled down. She stumbled and landed hard on the floor. "Ha! She does have legs! I was beginning to wonder." The beta laughed as he pointed. She was humiliated. All she wanted was to sink into the floor and vanish into nothingness. All she could do was try to salvage some of her dignity. Alas she could not even do that in the demonicly possessed gown.

The beta's loud ruckus laughter was suddenly cut off with a whosh of breath. She felt large strong hands on her waist. "Please excuse the beta, princess. He is in his cups." Fenral said as he lifted her to her feet with so much ease she might have weighed the same as a rag doll.

"Thank you." Was all she could think to say. The encounter had left her breathless. She turned and continued walking down the corridor. When they finally arrived at the apartments of the visitors, she stood aside and motioned for the men to go first. She was hoping that Fenral would open the double doors so she could get through without assistance. Alas he opened one side and held it for her to go through first. She was horrified.

To his credit the beta seemed to get why she was upset. "Seriously." He said flatly and pushed open the other door. At this she said thank you for the second time in ten minutes. But this time it was to the beta. Fenral growled and she quickly walked past them and into the warm sitting room.

"So this is where you will be staying while you are here. If you need anything just let any of the servants know and they will do their best to ensure you get it." She courtesied and went to walk past them for the second time but was called back by the king.

"Alura." She stopped and turned to him. "Ease up on the perfume or I will make my mission to make your life a living hell." He growled.

"Thank you for informing me that my life will not improve at all if I marry you. If that is all you need I will take my leave now. Good night gentlemen." She wasn't sure where this sudden wave of courage had come from. Her cold words were reminiscent of a blizzard in the winter. She walked away with her head held high. Only when she had reached the confines of her own chambers did she allow herself to lose control.

"Why can I still feel his touch?" She gasped. Fenral's touch had made a part of her come alive that she would rather ignore. She stripped into nothing but skin and climbed into bed as the sun began to set. Soon she fell to a restless sleep that was plagued by visions of cold blue eyes and a perfect body. Fenral was able to disrupt even her dreams. she wanted him to press his body on top of hers. That much was obvious.