The Plan Commences

by Kristen Ashley

  She said nothing for a moment, before she asked, “And?”

  He continued to chuckle as he pulled her up, forcing her to be face to face with him, before he rolled her so he mostly covered her, but they were still face to face.

  “I have also ordered your draught,” he told her.

  “Oh,” she whispered, getting that quicksilver look in her eyes he was becoming accustomed to and liked very much.

  This time he liked it for the same reasons as he always did, including the fact it shared how much she liked his weight on her.

  “It will be your third dose,” he reminded her.

  “Oh.” She continued to whisper, now shifting under him in a way his cock took notice.

  “I do not tire of your hands or your mouth, my queen.” He dipped his head so his lips were nearly on hers, and whispered, “But I wish to come inside.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, that lovely syllable hardening his shaft fully, and as she’d earned it, he pressed it against her leg and the noise came again. “Oh.”

  He grinned, brushed his lips to hers and rolled, pulling her fully on top of him.

  She looked adorably dazed as he stated, “First caffé and rolls.”

  She then appeared adorably perturbed and he found he could not stop smiling that morning.

  He tucked her hair behind her ear and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded. “Did you?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Her little white teeth came out and scored her lower lip, her eyes telling him her thoughts were on why they both slept so well, and he wondered how discomfited she would get if the maid served their rolls while his mouth was between her legs.

  “What are the different stamps for?”

  Her bizarre question effectively took his mind from her taste.

  “Sorry?”

  “You have two stamps on your desk in your quarters upstairs in your palace. Stamps for sealing letters. One is a snake. The other is a lick of fire.”

  It would seem she wished to get to know him better in ways that did not make him groan.

  He like that very much too.

  His wife had not asked much about him. They not only had not had the time, when they did, she’d had other things plaguing her mind.

  Mars had not realized, until that moment, that he’d felt it hurtful that she had not.

  “I wasn’t snooping,” she said quickly. “I saw them that night that I was, uh…”

  “There is nothing of me you cannot know,” he said gently.

  The worry transforming her features disappeared.

  “And nothing of me you cannot ask,” he went on.

  “Thank you, husband,” she said softly.

  “The snake is for personal matters. The fire is official,” he shared.

  “And the wax?”

  “The wax?”

  “You have four colors of wax. Green, red, black and gold.”

  He found this question intensely interesting.

  “You remember well matters which are not significant,” he noted.

  “Everything about you is, um…significant.”

  This made Mars growl again, give her a squeeze and he lifted his head to press a hard kiss on her mouth.

  When he settled back, she’d assumed her slightly dazed look, and it was then he gave her answers, doing so settling into the knowledge that his Silence might not have asked, but from nearly the beginning, she’d been interested in knowing her king.

  “The green is for personal correspondence. The black indicates military matters. The gold is a royal summons. The red is governmental. Such as endorsements. Sanctions. Proclamations. In short, general, but official, correspondence from the king.”

  “That’s very…orderly,” she remarked, and he again grinned.

  “For a savage?” he teased.

  “No, Mars,” she said. “But maybe…yes.”

  “It was all red under my grandfather’s reign,” he explained. “It was my father who created the system.”

  “But…why?” she asked.

  “Why?”

  “Every missive from a king is important,” she explained.

  “It is, amore, and none of this indicates that it should be ignored. But the clans, specifically, and some tribes, have structures. There are barons, but in many cases, they will have a man that is head of their warriors. They will have another man, or sometimes a woman, who is in charge of sharing information with their people. They will further have a secretary who handles their diary. Gold will be opened by secretaries. Black should be seen by no one but the chieftain, baron or their top general. Red would be understood to bear information that will be distributed. It allows leaders to delegate and it makes the demands of a king seem less demanding, even if they are still demands.”

  “That is very clever,” she murmured.

  “My father was that,” he replied.

  “You speak of him with much respect,” she said searchingly.

  “I wish you would have known him. He would have come to care for you greatly.”

  This brightened her eyes exorbitantly. “Do you think?”

  For the first time that morning, Mars did not feel bright, for the fact she asked that question like it was impossible for her to believe his remark, did not make him feel bright in the slightest.

  He did not comment on this.

  He’d deal with her father, and her mother, at another time.

  He answered, “Papa suffered no fool. He was well-read. And he, like you, valued silence and listening over pontificating. When he spoke, people listened, not only because of his manner, but because I cannot say I know of a time when he spoke just to speak instead of speaking when he had something important to say.”

  Her fingers drifted through his beard as she murmured, “I’m sorry you lost him.”

  His voice dropped deeper when he replied, “I, as well.”

  Her hand moved, and her thumb trailed over his cheekbone as she gazed into his eyes and whispered, “Why is it that a great man like Ares is lost to this world and men like Wilmer and my father live on to be at least, ineffectual, and at worst, whatever my father is?”

  “It is rare a great man, or woman, in all of history lives long, piccolina,” Mars replied. “Study your history books. A man, or woman, of vision or will, whose efforts and strategies might affect progress, comes to tragic ends and they do this early. This is because people do not like change, especially those who will have to share riches or power they have kept to themselves while also keeping those around them under their thumbs in order to ascertain they cannot take those riches away, or worse, lessen their power. I can think of only one in all of history who lived long, and that is because she created The Enchantments to protect herself and her sisters.”

  He felt his arms about her tighten automatically when he saw the look on her face after he spoke.

  “Silence?” he asked after the fear she now wore stark in her expression.

  “You are great,” she said.

  He relaxed, and although pleased she thought this, she was not right.

  “I walk in the footsteps of a giant,” he told her.

  “We will defeat the Beast.”

  He was glad at her positivity.

  “That is not greatness, bellezza, it is destiny.”

  “You could not have walked in your father’s footsteps. You could have erased everything he did,” she pointed out.

  “This is but a decision, not a mission.”

  “You are great, Mars,” she declared stubbornly.

  He fought back his smile and murmured, “All right, wife. I am great.”

  If she wished to think that, he would not continue to argue the point.

  “Do not humor me,” she demanded, appearing cross.

  “This is hard when you are being humorous.”

  She glared at him for long moments before her thumb again moved over his cheek and her eyes shifted there.

  Her mood shifted as well, and Mars
watched it happen, fascinated.

  “How did you get your scars?” she asked.

  Ah.

  The question she had asked what seemed so long ago. On their wedding night.

  And at hearing it, Mars felt the best he had in weeks, indeed, since the loss of Sofia.

  For this question demonstrated to him he finally truly had his Silence back.

  “As is custom, my father sent me to Airen to train,” he began. “It is what, over the centuries, after the war that tore our one country into two, has kept the peace. Trajan, and Cassius, trained in Firenze and knew our ways and strategies. And I, as did all princes of Firenze before me, trained in Airen to know theirs.”

  Silence nodded.

  Mars carried on.

  “It was not long after I arrived that Trajan challenged me.”

  “Oh no,” she said.

  “It is fine, Silence. As you can see, I am here, no worse for the experience.”

  “But you have scars.”

  He tipped his head on the pillow. “Do you want to hear the story?”

  His wife shut her mouth.

  He fought another smile and continued.

  “Future king to future king, Trajan said. I was younger than him by five years, but Laches men grow fast, and I was his height, if I did not yet have a powerful build. I was also young, and most full of myself, so I accepted.”

  “This story isn’t getting better,” she mumbled.

  He ignored her and kept telling said story.

  “Cassius was alarmed. Not that he didn’t know my skill, and that I could look after myself, but that he knew his brother was a cheat.”

  “And still, no better.”

  “I unhorsed him, Silence. And when we persisted on our feet, I disarmed him.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  And there was that noise he liked so much.

  Mars ignored that too.

  “Trajan was not a bad soldier, but he was a terrible loser. I offered to shake hands and embrace, he turned his back on me and walked off the field. Cassius felt this made matters worse. He followed me like a shadow for weeks. He remained so close, the others began to call us lovers, thinking this was an insult, when it was not. They stopped doing that when Cass, nor I, appeared to be offended by these comments.”

  “Are the Airenzian not free sexually, like the Firenz are?” she asked.

  “No one is quite as free as the Firenz, little monkey,” he told her. “But although it is not hidden and considered debauched, as it is in Wodell, it is not spoken of openly and there are some of a certain bent, bullies and bigots, who attempt to use their antipathy toward it as a weapon.”

  “Airen seems a most unpleasant place,” Silence mumbled.

  “It is a land of great beauty and great bleakness. If you ever visit a battlefield, even years after the battle is done, you will feel the pain and despair. If there is enough of it, it taints the very soil and does not let go until the last who knows of the atrocities that happened there perishes. Airen’s soil is tainted with centuries of pain and despair. So much so, it rises up and dulls the very air.”

  She studied him with intent eyes.

  He continued speaking.

  “It was some time after the challenge I bested against Trajan when Cassius relaxed his vigil. It was the dead of night and I was in the barracks, asleep. There were five of them. Six with Trajan. The five held me down. Trajan cut me. They would have raped me, but one of my bunkmates was Cassius’s now-lieutenant, Macrinus. He ran to inform Cassius and Cass came with Macrinus, Otho and Nero. Numbers more balanced, the tide was turned, and I did the first thing my father ever expressed disappointment in me for doing.”

  “What was that?” she asked, her voice somewhat breathless.

  “I cut him as he cut me, and then I took one of his testicles.”

  Silence gasped.

  Mars spoke through it.

  “I did the former in vengeance. I did the latter as a lesson. Man or woman chooses to take cock. It is not forced upon them. King Gallienus was infuriated and called for my father immediately. Papa came, and he was not angry that this occurrence strained relations between two nations, for even Gallienus could see the cuts on my face and he knew his son had acted in a craven manner, without a hint of honor. Both future kings had been disfigured, one more monumentally, but it was Trajan’s actions that made it so. Thus, this was smoothed out relatively quickly. Father was also not angry at the lesson. He was angry at the vengeance. He said vengeance is meted over a lifetime of living above pettiness, and he considered lashing out in anger petty. He said it is the man who walks the high road who sees the best view. The climb to that road is often arduous. But the view is worth it. And regardless, even the climb is better than wallowing in the mud.”

  “All I have heard, including this, it is clear your father was, indeed, very wise,” she noted quietly.

  She was not wrong, so Mars did not remark on that.

  “This is how I got my scars,” he finished.

  “It wasn’t just retribution. It was also envy. Prince Trajan sought to sully your handsomeness,” she remarked.

  “Perhaps,” he allowed.

  “No. He did. I have heard Prince Trajan took after his mother in looks and was not near as handsome as his brother.”

  Mars chose to ignore the fact she found Cassius handsome.

  Instead, he shared, “His mother was a great beauty. Trajan simply had bad luck and he did not make it better by being interesting or amusing or good-natured and pleasant to be around, but instead he was simply an arsehole.”

  “He did not succeed,” she declared.

  Mars was confused.

  “In being an arsehole?” he asked.

  “In sullying your handsomeness.”

  At this announcement, Mars growled again and lifted his head to kiss her, but she pulled away.

  “Why did you not act before to save the women of Airen?” she queried.

  His wife asked this fraught question as a knock sounded on the door.

  He called for the maid to come in, and Silence, having begun to get used to being served while naked and abed with her husband, simply pressed up to sitting on a hip and wrapped the sheet around her.

  He liked this progression too.

  Very much.

  The maid put the tray at the side of the bed Silence was not occupying, as had been their wont over the last day, and after asking if there was more required, and learning there was not, she took her leave.

  Silence had served his coffee, swallowed down the draught and was nibbling a roll when he addressed her question.

  “With Gallienus, and with Trajan, it would have meant war, my queen.”

  “Does it not mean war now?” she asked.

  “A revolt is different from a war. Especially with strong allies that will significantly decrease the chance of bloodshed.”

  “Do you offer women from Airen asylum?”

  He did not answer that.

  “Mars,” she pressed.

  He sighed before giving her what she desired.

  “The clans and tribes very much did not want to get drawn into this unpleasantness, my monkey. They will gladly and stalwartly defend Firenze, but they are often embroiled in clan clashes when not united to fight for Firenze, and even if fighting is a way of life, few of them had an interest in shedding blood for another realm’s problems.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, you don’t,” she whispered with obvious disenchantment.

  “It is known to me there is a secret system that several tribes abet, offering succor and safe travel to The Enchantments, or deeper into Firenze where the dunes spread for many miles and only the most hearty and nomadic of our tribes reside. Once delivered upon them, they take in these women who have escaped, and it is the same as them disappearing from the face of this earth.”

  “And you do nothing to stop these tribes from their endeavors,” she said.

  “I do not. Nor did my father.”<
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  “And that is all.”

  She continued to appear disappointed.

  He drew in breath.

  He then shared, “It is not, for these women need food, they need horses, and they need clothing, and they must go to the tribes in the dunes with an offering of an amount that will make it worth it to them to take these women on. And it is not the wealthiest of tribes who assist them. So they receive generous funding.” He paused. “Anonymously.”

  Her eyes widened before she surmised, “So the other clans and tribes who might be against this do not know of royal involvement, and neither does Gallienus.”

  “Precisely.”

  She smiled at him contentedly and took a bite out of her roll.

  “It is a great secret and has been for decades this is happening, Silence,” he warned. “The decisions have been made, but the proclamations have not been heralded and there is already growing unrest in Airen as word has spread Cassius will take Elena as bride. They know what will come of that. If it is known peremptorily that Firenz kings, for two generations, have been aiding in the escape of Airenzian refugees, we will not be attending True’s wedding nor having days in bed for I’ll be on a horse with my sword, leading my warriors in battle, and you will be at Catrame Palace, shadowed every step you take by a guard of at least fifty.”

  She waved her roll at him and spoke with her mouth full. “I will not breathe a word.”

  Truly, his queen was a marvel, for he could not understand how she could be so impeccably fuckable sitting abed, chewing on a roll.

  And since now, at long last, he could actually fuck her, she could resume chewing on her roll later.

  Thus, he reached out a hand and plucked it from hers.

  “I was enjoying that,” she declared as he tossed it on the tray.

  Mars reached long, took hold of the lip of the tray and dragged it across the bed until he could take full control of it.

  He then moved it to the nightstand.

  After that, he turned to his wife. “You will enjoy this more.”

  She protested no further as he reached out again and pulled her to him.

  He took her mouth in a wet kiss.

  Her response was instantaneous, and heated.

  He had learned through their play that it was crucial to get the upper hand with his queen, and do it from the start, for she learned speedily.