Chapter Text
When Princess Iselde woke, Alexis was unsure of how she should act. Princess Iselde solved the issue by acting… completely normally, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Alexis supposed that was because this was her ordinary now. Her body tingled at that prospect.
New normals aside, Alexis still had her duties. She accompanied the princess, a silent shadow constantly scanning for threats. The trip to the province went uneventfully, the letter was delivered, there wasn’t even one assassination attempt.
The trip back to the castle was even less eventful, the snow having melted away as abruptly as it had arrived. Princess Iselde reported to her royal mother, and then it was back to their usual days, Princess Iselde studying and Alexis standing by her side.
So it was with considerable surprise one day that Alexis heard a pained cry from within the princess’s chambers and rushed in, forgoing all etiquette in doing so. What she found was Princess Iselde holding her foot, which she had evidently stubbed against the base of a—
“Princess Iselde! Are you alright? Why is there a training dummy in here?!” Alexis rushed over.
“I am… quite alright, my knight,” replied Princess Iselde, her normally melodious voice strained with concealed pain. “I merely… misstepped.”
“Very well, my lady, but why is there a training dummy to step into in your chambers—and also a wooden practice sword?!”
Princess Iselde suddenly looked very interested in the embroidered sheets of her bedspread.
Alexis picked up the wooden sword, swinging it experimentally. “The weight in this is unbalanced.” She glanced at Iselde, whose gaze had shifted to her. “And it’s the wrong length for you. A longer blade would be better suited for your body.”
Princess Iselde’s eyebrows were rising steadily. “Is that so, my knight?”
“Yes, too short a blade would not reach as far as you need it to —princess! Am I so lacking in my abilities that you have been tasked with learning to defend yourself?”
Princess Iselde blinked at Alexis’s sudden outburst and equally sudden kneeling at her feet. “My knight…” she began.
“Or perhaps you are studying the blade by yourself without a teacher? Why would you do that? You probably heard wretched things from other knights about my lack of prowess and out of pity, you have kept me on as your knight while attempting to study on your own!”
Now Princess Iselde’s eyebrows were rising once more. “I—“
“Princess Iselde, you have no cause for concern!” Alexis stood and thumped her chest over her heart with her fist. “I, Alexis, pledged to serve you my entire life! I will strive to improve my prowess with swords until none will dare imply that the Princess Iselde is ill taken care of!”
Princess Iselde’s lips parted. “Will you, my knight?”
“Yes, my lady!”
The princess nodded solemnly. “And if that also involves helping me improve my own prowess with… swords?”
“Then I will do so to the best of my ability!”
“Very well.” Princess Iselde stood. “You may begin by guiding me in the selection of a proper training blade.”
“Yes, princess!”
Iselde wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened but she supposed the odd workings of Alexis’s brain worked in her favor. She now had real guidance for her little hobby, which was much easier than trying to observe from afar and imitate the exercises the knights used to train. Alexis, conversely, provided modified exercises to account for Iselde’s inexperience and her personal stature and abilities.
It was all very helpful, and also more competence than Iselde expected of her bumbleheaded knight.
She recalled the firmness of Alexis’s muscles and supposed that perhaps her knight excelled in certain areas more than others.
Something Alexis had said when promising to aid Iselde stuck out: that of her standing and reputation amongst the other knights. Iselde had once surmised that Alexis likely faced many prejudices as the first and currently sole lady knight in the realm. The offhanded outburst all but confirmed that she did face such trials.
Iselde’s lip curled. She would have to investigate discreetly and see what she could do to put a stop to any trouble from the other knights.
Alexis belonged to Iselde.
“Princess Iselde,” Sir Darian greeted, bowing deeply. “What a pleasure to be in your presence.”
“Sir Darian,” Iselde returned, along with a signature sweet smile. “Thank you for allowing me to visit you at your home in the capital.”
“On the contrary, it is my privilege.” Sir Darian nodded to the servant to close the library door as Iselde strode forward to take a seat. She thought briefly on how odd it was to be somewhere without Alexis by her side, but really, what a ridiculous thought. Alexis stood outside the library door, what no one could consider “far away.”
“Now, what can I do for the lovely Princess Iselde?”
“I find myself here on a rather silly business,” Iselde said, removing the book from her sleeve so she could help herself to the teacup Sir Darian was handing her. He glanced curiously at the title and picked it up to examine the spine. Iselde knew he would find nothing interesting other than some frivolous title about how ladies should strive to abolish all thoughts from their heads or some rot like that. She knew only that she had taken great pleasure in hollowing out the inside in order to fit the raunchy commoner novels she enjoyed so. “My knight, Alexis, has been performing her duties excellently. She seeks to improve herself, and I merely wondered if an accomplished knight such as yourself may have insight as to her current training regimen, and what could be improved.”
“Ah yes, Lady Knight Alexis,” Sir Darian sat down in his chair and leaned forward towards Iselde, his eyes glinting. “I am acquainted, yes. She does perform excellently.”
Iselde examined him shrewdly. He didn’t seem to have a lecherous air when speaking of her knight, and yet she felt an odd energy from his words. “I am glad to hear of it from your mouth, experienced as you are. Has she room for improvement? How does she compare to the other knights?”
“It depends on what aspect of her performance you speak of,” Sir Darian replied. His eyes were still twinkling darkly.
“Oh, I couldn’t know a thing like that! The particulars are far beyond one such as myself.” Iselde let out the tittering brainless laugh she had long ago perfected, the one that ensured people dismissed her as the naive but sweet girl they thought her to be and stopped paying attention to her so she could go off and play at whatever inappropriate-thing-for-princesses she liked.
For some reason, though, Sir Darian was not looking away. In fact, his gaze was just as intent as before, with that same odd glint in his eyes.
Tch!
They sat in silence for a moment, and Iselde had the uncanny sensation that she was being considered, some part of her being evaluated and weighed in Sir Darian’s mind. She sipped tea to pass the time, and Sir Darian picked up her book, turning it over and over in his hands before setting it down on the table beside him.
“Princess Iselde,” Sir Darian said, straightening slowly. “Perhaps observing an example of training would aid you in identifying areas of improvement for Lady Knight Alexis?”
Iselde had the distinct feeling that she had passed a test she did not know she was taking, and also she was curious. Perhaps she could suggest some exercises to Alexis.
“Very well. Follow me, I will lead you.” Sir Darian stood, his lanky frame unfolding from his chair. He was even taller than Alexis, Iselde noted. She stepped quickly after him as he passed out of a nondescript rear door of the library and through the halls.
As the halls grew darker, Iselde realized that they were in the residential area of the manor, not heading towards the courtyard. She crossed her arms, letting the hems of her sleeves touch and conceal her right hand closing around the small knife sewn into the seam of her sleeve. It wouldn’t do much in a fight against an experienced knight, but holding the handle made her feel more secure amidst the oddly charged energy as Sir Darian led her deeper into his home.
They arrived at a particularly ornate door. Sir Darian fished under his clothes and pulled out a key hung around his neck. He slid the key into the lock, turned the knob, and then gestured for Iselde to enter.
“Please, Sir Darian, lead the way,” Iselde demurred politely, her senses on high alert. “This is your home, after all.”
Sir Darian inclined his head briefly. “As you wish, Princess.” He stepped inside and Iselde followed closely so as not to give him space to maneuver if he wanted to attempt anything nefarious.
The room she entered was much brighter than the hall outside. It was a sitting room with four armchairs centered around a table. Sunlight streamed through a floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating that there was nothing unusual in here. She turned to face Sir Darian, who was now locking the door behind him, and she would have had much more to say about that if she hadn’t caught sight of the contents of the adjoining room.
That room had even more floor-to-ceiling windows, which let in plenty of light with which Iselde could observe the man bound to an enormous four-poster bed. Even from this distance, she could see that the man was indecently dressed—his arms and legs were bare, and he was clad only in a strip of cloth tied around his eyes and a pile of delicate, white fabric that covered only from his chest to mid-thigh. There was no blood she could see implying this was a dead body, but Iselde remained utterly mystified as to what in the world Sir Darian was trying to accomplish by bringing her here.
She remained silent, her gaze flicking to Sir Darian, who was watching her just as closely. Her lip firmed, and Iselde resolved not to speak until Sir Darian explained himself.
Sir Darian chuckled lightly. “As I thought, you have much more depth to you than the façade you adopt, do you not?”
Iselde glanced pointedly back at the bedchamber.
“Yes, yes, you’d like an explanation. Worry not, I have no designs on you, my lady.” Sir Darian walked over to gaze out one of the windows, continuing his speech as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “You see, Princess Iselde, I am aware of a good number of things around the castle, and one of those includes the mysterious disappearance of reading material from some of the ladies-in-waiting. Curiously, they were somewhat reluctant to describe the exact reading materials that had gone missing, only that they were gone and should be returned immediately if found. As there are not so very many literate individuals who frequent the castle and who therefore would have use for books, it was brought to my attention in order to inquire discreetly amongst the ranks of the knights.”
Sir Darian turned back to Iselde, a small, sardonic smile on his thin lips. Iselde’s thoughts flashed to her book that Sir Darian had looked over. He hadn’t opened it, and she’d assumed that was because he was as put off by the title and presumed contents as she was, but perhaps he hadn’t needed to open it to determine that the book had been hollowed out to conceal its pilfered contents.
Sir Darian’s smile widened, yet the words that came out of his mouth were, “Ah, well, I suppose the mystery will have to continue unsolved. Now, you had mentioned you were interested in learning the art of training to improve one’s knight.” He gestured through the doorway to the bedroom. “Here is training in progress of one knight in particular whose talents lay elsewhere than knighthood, in my experienced opinion. I believe this particular type of training would expand your own knight’s ability to serve you.”
Iselde’s mind was whirling through so many emotions and thoughts she felt she might be sick. Sir Darian had surely reasoned that she was the culprit who snuck those novels from her ladies-in-waiting, yet he was claiming to be ignorant of his unfortunately correct conclusion. Sir Darian was inviting her to join in something that was surely lecherous. Sir Darian was implying that she could employ what she learned today on Alexis…
Iselde allowed herself to look directly at the man on the bed. Aside from the cloth obscuring his vision, he was wearing a very short white shift with lacy edges and small flowers embroidered on the hem. Both wrists and ankles were bound to the four posts of the bed frame, though loosely enough that he was able to shift back and forth. He wasn’t a very large man; Iselde thought Alexis was surely taller than him.
Sir Darian walked up to the bed and lifted the hem of the shift, exposing the first erection Iselde had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t help but blush, and yet she also couldn’t look away. As such, it didn’t take her long to note that the man seemed to have something inside his hole.
Princess Iselde, so skilled at controlling her reactions to put forth the appearance of the princess the world expected her to be, felt her face flame. She had only ever read of such acts in those novels that also featured such brazenly taboo acts as sexual bondage, polyamory, and the fall of monarchy. Iselde herself was clearly no saint and had never aspired to be one, but it was one thing to think of such matters in the comfort of one’s own mind and quite another to witness them firsthand.
Sir Darian paid no heed to Iselde’s shock. He reached between the man’s legs and traced a long, elegant finger around the rim of his hole, teasing at the place where the glass met skin. “Hazel,” he crooned in a singsong voice. “Have you been waiting patiently for me?”
“Mm..!” Hazel squirmed, his hips bucking as if seeking firmer contact with Sir Darian’s finger.
“Very good,” Sir Darian said, rewarding him with the pressure he craved. “You have improved so quickly. It is further proof of how you were meant for whoredom.”
Iselde hadn’t known there were male prostitutes in real life. As she gawped, Sir Darian slid his other hand up Hazel’s knee, stroking softly until it reached his straining, erect penis.
Hazel let out a wanton cry, thrusting his hips up in response to the touch of Sir Darian’s hand on his most private parts. Instead, Sir Darian let go, smoothing his hands on the surrounding skin.
“P-please!” Hazel cried. “Sir Darian, please!”
“Please what, dear thing?” Sir Darian said, one hand now wandering lower between Hazel’s legs and cupping his balls while the other stroked a thumb along the crease between Hazel’s hip and thigh.
The other man let out another prolonged whimper, all four limbs pulling at the bonds restraining him in place. Iselde felt a heat burning between her own thighs at the sound, her lower lips growing wet as she took in the sight before her. She found herself wishing alongside Hazel for Sir Darian to close those long, elegant fingers around Hazel’s ruddy red cock, if only so she could see what delicious new sounds he would make in the throes of pleasure.
“Please… touch me…!” Hazel panted.
“I am touching you,” Sir Darian commented mildly, as if he had simply been asked to pass the salt at a dinner table.
“More, I need more!” Hazel cried, his hips moving erratically.
“What, here?” Sir Darian asked, and with two fingers he tugged at the plug Iselde had seen earlier inside Hazel’s hole.
Hazel keened, his entire body clenching. Sir Darian paid him no mind and continued to caress Hazel’s balls as he moved the plug in and out. Hazel’s belly tightened, and his hips moved in tandem with Sir Darian’s rhythm to push the plug deeper inside himself.
“This must be what you wanted, yes? A whore like you lives to be fucked and fucked well,” Sir Darian commented. “And thus, I will now fuck you well.” So saying, Sir Darian reached into a drawer of the side table and withdrew a small jar and a long, thick glass rod with a flared base. He released the restraints on Hazel’s legs and pushed them up by his chest, then pulled out the small glass plug and cast it aside, ignoring Hazel’s needy moan.
The filthy language should have shocked Iselde, yet she instead found herself rubbing her thighs together, longing for friction on her own most private parts. Sir Darian cast her a glance, and she quickly shook her head. The thought of touching Hazel or Sir Darian touching her sent a cold chill of unease across her skin. Watching them, however… yes, that pleased the Princess Iselde.
Sir Darian turned back to his task with no hesitation. Unscrewing the lid to the jar, he applied a small amount of scented ointment to the rod and pressed the tip to Hazel’s hole. Slowly, he began to push it in.
“Ahhhhhh!” Hazel cried, his voice crescendoing with every additional length that slid inside him. His fingers twisted in the sheets below them, grasping forcefully.
And then, Sir Darian bent low and slid his mouth onto Hazel’s cock, his lips wrapping around the flesh and sliding down almost to the hilt. It was an act that Iselde had known fictionally was possible, but her breath hitched and her core became impossibly hotter seeing a man take another man’s cock into his mouth live in front of her. Sir Darian, unaware of Iselde transforming into a human-form mass of arousal, continued to push the rod forward, steadily and inexorably, until it was fully inside Hazel, all the while never ceasing in the movements of his mouth on Hazel’s penis.
Hazel thrashed. It seemed to be involuntary, a reaction to the extreme sensations being wrought from his body. Sir Darian paid no mind; he simply laid an arm across Hazel’s stomach and held him down as he continued sliding his mouth up and down Hazel’s cock. His other hand began to pull the glass rod out, then pushed it back in, speeding up as he did it again and again.
“More! More, please! More!” Hazel screamed, his head whipping back and forth.
Sir Darian pulled up and off of Hazel’s cock at that. “Dear Hazel, my sweet whore. What else would you have me do?” His voice was a little hoarse, so he punctuated his question with a particularly hard thrust of the rod.
“I need… you..! Your cock, inside me, p-please!”
Sir Darian’s eyes widened, the first sign of genuine emotion Iselde had seen from him all afternoon. He pulled the rod out and fumbled at the placket of his breeches until he had freed his own cock, as long and thin as the rest of him in comparison to Hazel’s thick, ruddy length.
Iselde watched as Sir Darian slid his cock inside Hazel, noting the contrast of his mostly clothed body to Hazel’s indecently frilly shift. Her whole body was flushed but especially the spot in between her thighs and the part that stood stiff and proud, longing to be touched. She did not dare move, lest she interrupt the spectacle before her of Hazel’s body welcoming Sir Darian, of Sir Darian whispering sweet praises to his lovely whore with a perfect body.
Hazel’s moans grew more insistent, using the legs he had wrapped around Sir Darian’s body to push himself further onto Sir Darian’s cock. Sir Darian gasped out a moan and leaned down, his teeth sinking into the junction of Hazel’s neck and shoulder. He sat up afterwards, and one hand slipped between their bodies to stroke the length of Hazel’s cock. Then he picked up the edge of the soft white fabric of the shift that was still pooled around Hazel’s middle and wrapped Hazel’s cock in it, moving his hand up and down with purpose.
“Tell me… Hazel…” Sir Darian panted, his hand moving in time with his hips’ thrusting. “What are you?”
Hazel responded, even though his voice was strained with the pent up sensations inside him. “I am… a whore…”
“Whose whore are you?”
“I am a whore of… your realm…” Hazel gasped in pleasure, and Sir Darian began to pound into Hazel with unerring focus.
“A whore of highest quality, then,” Sir Darian said, a half-smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You are an excellent slut, Hazel.”
“Yes! Yes!” Hazel cried up and his body seized, his legs clamping tight around Sir Darian’s back. Iselde saw a wet spot bloom on the shift still wrapped around his cock and comprehended that he had come to completion. At the same time, Sir Darian’s face scrunched and he groaned long and loud, pushing his cock deep inside Hazel and gripping his thigh so tightly Iselde could see the skin whitening from the pressure.
Sir Darian pulled out, and Iselde saw runny white liquid drip out of Hazel’s hole. Sir Darian ignored the leaking mess he had made in favor of using a corner of the shift to dry his cock. Then, he looked up at Iselde and rummaged in his clothing until he fished out a key and brandished it towards her, pointing to the door.
Iselde could have had him reprimanded for treating royalty with such impudence, but how was she meant to explain the context in which it had happened? Also she didn’t actually care—Sir Darian seemed to be willing to keep her book pilfering habit to himself and had also allowed her to observe a… new field of study. As she stepped into the outer room, she saw Sir Darian brush Hazel’s sweaty hair back from his face and stroke his cheek.
Princess Iselde pushed the key into the lock and swung upon the door, leaving the key in the inner lock as she closed the door behind her. Slipping into the empty corridor, she headed back to the library and pondered new ways she could train her knight.