A Royal Rebellion

by Revella Hawthorne

  “Is it kidnapping if the target is willing? Is it just a surprise vacation then?”

  Edward laughed, and went back to his sleeping mate, wondering what to tell Percy in the morning when he saw that Reynard and Mason were missing from breakfast.

  ***

  Percy

  Percy shifted in the chair, glaring at his stomach. He was no longer wearing clothing, just a voluminous bathrobe that covered him chin to toes and made him look twice the size he actually was.

  The baby kicked, and Percy groaned, rubbing the spot his little dancer decided should be bruised today. “Little one, please settle. I can’t get up again so soon to go to the bathroom, I just don’t have it in me,” Percy sighed, and thankfully the babe quieted. He picked up his book, and tried reading again. It was a short history of the Cassian Dynasty, the type of books bought by tourists. He was looking for information on the no faith challenge brought to bear by those of the blood, and what he was finding was unsettling.

  A no faith challenge had happened only six times in two thousand years. Five of the six were successful, and power exchanged hands from unworthy monarch to worthy successor with a minimum of fuss. Sure, the previous king or queen either died in the challenge or ended up imprisoned for life, but the transition was relatively painless. Those that went to challenge, at least, two of the no faith challenges had resolved by the sitting monarch willingly relinquishing the crown to their successor. Both those cases were in the instances of the monarch being mentally or physically unsuited for rule. One was mentally damaged from a riding incident, and the other rendered sterile from scarlet fever. Both those cases the monarch stepped down, willingly abdicated, and spent their life in opulent splendor outside the capital at a private residence.

  The other challenges resulted in the proxy combatant either dying in the challenge or the monarch themselves dying, or with the monarch losing the match but not their life, and going to prison. It turned out a few in the Dynasty had gone legitimately mad, and were a danger to everyone and themselves.

  The last challenge is what worried Percy the most. It was startlingly similar to the situation they were in now. A king two hundred years ago had killed his Queen for a suspected infidelity, and in the days after the murder the sons and daughters, mourning the life of their mother, had brought to the king a no faith challenge. The king, in a rage, had fought his eldest son, the current crown prince in combat. The father killed his heir and son, winning the challenge.

  The king then had skipped the two next oldest blood heirs, and made the youngest, a lad of thirteen, into his heir. The boy was spared his father’s revenge due to his age, while the king imprisoned his two other remaining children for life, charged with treason. They died in prison less than ten years after being incarcerated.

  Percy tossed the book aside, and pushed up on the arms of the chair, trying to settle his hips better. He was always in pain. Dull aches as his body rapidly changed to support the little one he carried, and while he begrudged his babe nothing, the discomfort of being this pregnant left him fitful and constantly uncomfortable. His hips and back hurt the most, and if he moved after too long sitting still, they popped and creaked, alternating between relief and pain.

  The door opened, and Percy looked up hopefully, but it was just Edward and Lord Lucius. Percy slumped, wishing it was Mason and Reynard with the doctor. It was evening on the fourth day since they left, and Percy trusted Reynard and Mason to return, but he wished they would hurry up. He wanted to have this baby, and now. Edward saw his pout and gave him a sympathetic smile, walking to his chair and talking his hand.

  “How do you feel, Percy?”

  “Fat and sore,” Percy snapped, and instantly felt bad. He looked up at Edward, but his mate merely smiled at him and patted his hand. “I’m sorry, Edward.”

  “No need to be sorry. It’s my fault you’re pregnant, after all,” Edward told him, sitting on the coffee table nearby and lifting Percy’s feet to his lap. Percy gave a happy moan as Edward rubbed his feet, soothing the aches.

  “It is your fault,” Percy agreed, with a blush sweeping across his cheeks. Edward smiled back at him, his strong hands so firm and in control that Percy wanted him and badly in that moment. Edward’s eyes, always so dark, held a fire when his desire was roused, and the way they traced over his legs, his hips, even the mountain of his stomach told Percy that his mate and master wanted him. “I want to have the baby. I want to…”

  Edward chuckled, his hands moving up his ankles to massage his calves. Percy was ready to melt into the armchair. Edward learned forward, and whispered to him, “I know what you want, little one. It’s been too long. You need to be under me, legs spread wide, tight little hole full of cock and cum. I want to hear you panting in desire, your body sucking me deeper, demanding I fill you with my seed. Is that what you want?”

  Percy nodded, mouth parting as he breathed faster, eyes locked on Edward. His prince gave him a wicked smile, and whispered, “Perhaps I’ll put you on your hands and knees, and spread your pert little ass apart, so I can see that tight, pink hole clench for me. Wet and hot, and so needy. I’ll open you, get you ready for me, and then I’ll mount you like a stallion does a mare, hard and rough and wild. Does that sound better?”

  Percy could only nod, slowly, eyes wide, chest rising and falling rapidly as his whole body went up in flames. Percy whimpered, and his cock twitched, highly interested in the images Edward generated. His hole clenched and grew damp, and Percy was ready to beg Edward to fuck him or kill his mate—he was too pregnant to be this horny. Percy glared at Edward, and his mate chuckled, dark eyes bright with passion, and he leaned back, an innocent expression on his handsome features.

  “Such charming domesticity,” Lord Lucius said, observing them from the small table next to the window, the setting sun casting a red glow over the man’s silver hair. Percy realized the older man must have heard his master, and he blushed even harder, face red and burning.

  “Anything interesting happening in the capital, Lucius?” Edward called over his shoulder, hands rubbing Percy’s feet again. He relaxed into Edward’s touch, body still humming with arousal but without the edge. “Hopefully no kidnappings to report, no additional manhunts?”

  “Not that I can tell, no,” Lord Lucius replied, looking down at a thin tablet on the table, finger gliding over the screen. “Your sisters are still languishing in the country, your brother Malcolm is still at the palace, and your two sisters by marriage are….well, that is interesting.”

  “What?” Edward asked, twisting on the coffee table to see Lord Lucius better.

  “The Queen-presumptive hasn’t been seen in public since Mason’s escape. Princess Camilla, Mason’s horrible wife, has been seen multiple times, mostly with the king. Disgusting, but then there’s no accounting for taste…. Here it is…” Lord Lucius began to read off the tablet. “Princess Arianna was seen this morning in the windows of the royal nursery, photographed by a paparazzi using long-range lenses. The princess appeared to be several pounds thinner, haggard in appearance, and from the image looks to be severely ill. Theories abound that this potential illness is why she has yet to be seen in public since Prince Mason’s historic exit from the capital.’”

  “Edward!” Percy cried out as Edward got to his feet, striding to the table where their host sat. Lord Lucius turned the tablet, and Edward froze at the image there. Even Percy could see it from where he sat.

  Arianna was thin, ill-thin, and her hair was lank and dull. The image was distorted through distance and the window pane, but even Percy could tell that all was not well with Princess Arianna.

  “Saint’s blood! What has he done to her?” Edward cursed under his breath, rigid with anger.

  “Mason said she stayed behind for her children’s sake—that she refused to leave them. If she angered the king, who knows what he’s done to her,” Lord Lucius mused, reaching for his ever-present goblet of wine. “She helped Mason escape, and found out the truth about her
children. Such a thing is bound to enrage any woman, even one like her. Perhaps her condition is the result of a confrontation between her and the king.”

  “He struck me for defiance, he tried to choke Percy to death, he beat and tortured Mason for days—what has he done to Ari?” Edward backed away from the tablet, and in his eyes Percy could see anger, frustration, even guilt. There were nightmarish possibilities for what a madman could do to a vulnerable woman, and Percy could see each hit home in his master’s heart.

  “This is not your fault!” Percy cried, startling Edward into looking at him. “None of this is your fault. I see you thinking it! Stop it!"

  Edward stared at him, shocked. Even Lord Lucius was startled. Percy ignored the noble in favor of his prince. “Don’t you dare think you could have stopped this, or prevented it! This is all on King Henry’s shoulders, and none of this is your fault!”

  Percy was panting, and he struggled to sit up more, and he ignored the sharp twinge in his hips and back. Edward hurried to his side, hands outstretched to help him. Percy got to his feet, swaying, and Edward gathered him close.

  “Don’t you dare take any more guilt or grief on that isn’t yours to begin with,” Percy hissed at his prince, who gave him a thorough, searching glance, and nodded once. Edward appeared sheepish, and he gave Percy a small smile, the vulnerability in that tiny moment enough to cool his annoyance. Percy frowned, but he nodded back, pleased. “Good. Now help me to the bathroom, I need to pee.”

  Edward chuckled, “Yes, my love.”

  Edward made Percy’s heart hurt in the most delicious way when he swept him up into his arms, Percy’s greater weight nothing to the strength of his mate. Percy hugged him around his neck and kissed his cheek, and Edward carried him to the bathroom to pee for what felt like the millionth time.

  ***

  Edward

  Edward waited patiently outside the bathroom in the hall, watching as the sun set behind the forest he could see through the ceiling high windows lining the hallway. The lamps scattered about the gardens came on in seconds, and Edward could see Lord Lucius’ black-clad guards patrolling in the lights. Percy was in the bathroom, and he could hear his little mate muttering as he went about his business.

  Pregnancy may not make Percy comfortable, but it was doing something for his personality. Percy still wasn’t the most talkative of people, preferring silence and a watchful attitude to in depth conversation, but he was coming out of his shell by leaps and bounds. If his new-found courage and the lessening in his crippling shyness was a result of his pregnancy and evaporated after the babe’s birth Edward would be fine with it, but part of him wished for his mate’s sake that some of it would remain. Percy spent too much of his life before Edward afraid and nervous; Edward would see his mate embrace his courage and enjoy life to the fullest.

  Edward frowned when he heard nothing from the bathroom. Usually Percy would call him back when he was done so he could help him from the bathroom. Edward walked to the door and knocked, “Little one? Percy?”

  Silence. “Percy!”

  “Edward…” at that tentative call, Edward slammed through the door, and went to the stall. He opened it, and saw Percy standing, leaning against the inner wall.

  “What’s wrong, little one?” Edward asked, reaching for Percy, his robe askew and falling from a shoulder, revealing Percy’s gravid and naked body underneath.

  Edward grabbed the robe, and his hand came away wet. The robe was soaked in a clear, viscous fluid, and he was about to ask what it was when realization hit. He stopped, staring, and a heavy, musky aroma filled his senses. Percy whimpered, and Edward watched in awe and terror as his mate’s abdomen rippled.

  A contraction. Percy was in labor.

  Chapter Twelve

  Percy

  The pain wasn’t too bad. It forced its way across his abdomen and hips, and his lower back ached horribly, but it wasn’t too much to bear.

  The shock on Edward’s face was scary, though. “Edward!”

  Edward jerked, and came back to himself. One arm went around Percy under his arms, and Edward picked him up and lifted him from the stall, and the unfortunate puddle he left when his body decided to flush his rectum in preparation for birth. It had been startling, and uncomfortable, but the rapid displacement of waste from his rectum and the clear, clean fluid that followed in the second wave told Percy that these were no false contractions—he was in labor.

  Edward let him lean against the sink, arm still holding him upright, and with his free hand his prince pulled out his cell and dialed.

  “Answer, c’mon, answer dammit…” Edward muttered, and Percy could hear it ring and ring. It clicked over to voicemail, and Edward growled in frustration but left a message. “Percy is in labor. Get back here, and now!”

  Pain made Percy gasp, grasping at Edward. He felt lightheaded, and his wavered on his feet. “Percy!”

  Edward picked him up in his arms, and Percy moaned, feeling nauseous. “I don’t like this so much, Edward.”

  “Me neither. Let’s get you in bed, okay?” Edward said, walking them out of the bathroom and down the hall.

  Edward’s long strides carried them past the room they were just in, and Lord Lucius saw them as they passed. “Prince Edward!”

  “No time, Lucius!” Edward called over his shoulder. The noble appeared in the door behind them, and followed at a fast walk.

  Another contraction was coming. It built, tightening, moving his insides around, and the baby woke in a flurry of movement. “Oh! She doesn’t like it much either.”

  Edward took the stairs, the stone steps echoing as Edward climbed, sure-footed despite the panic Percy could see hovering in his eyes. “She, huh? So you agree with Mason?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Percy said, gasping as his body tried to twist itself out of Edward’s arms. Edward tightened his grip, making the second floor and walking them down the hall to their room. Lord Lucius had caught up, and was on his cell, presumably talking to his few, actual servants. Lord Lucius had a housekeeper, a small army of maids, a single stable master after the unfortunate removal of the first one, and a dozen trained and lethal guards, and not counting the small harem of pleasure slaves he kept.

  “I like the idea of a little girl,” Percy said, one hand on his abdomen. The muscles under his hand were rippling, in a wholly unconscious manner that left him disturbed and excited. His body was moving ahead with the birth regardless of whether or not Percy was ready. That thought scared him and reassured him simultaneously.

  “A healthy baby and a healthy consort are all I want right now,” Edward said, sweeping into their room and heading for the king-sized bed.

  A burst of activity behind them made Percy look up, and a handful of maids came in the room, carrying fresh linens and blankets. Edward stepped back as they remade the bed, pulling back the blankets and piling pillows high. Edward laid him down, sitting up, and removed the soaked robe from his shoulders. Percy grimaced, and he realized another small flood of fluid had dampened the fabric. Edward saw his problem, and sat on the side of the bed, a clean washcloth in his hand. Percy suffered through his mate cleaning him, and his face burned.

  Edward pulled a sheet high over his belly, and Percy clutched it, glad to be hidden from the curious eyes of the maids. Edward waved a hand, and they fled just as fast as they appeared.

  “How are you feeling?” Edward asked him, rubbing a hand over his belly.

  “The contractions are far apart, and don’t hurt too badly,” Percy said, even as he could feel his belly tighten for another round. “I need a towel under me, Edward, please.”

  Edward was quick to comply, slipping a thick, fluffy towel under his ass. Percy shifted, and he found himself wishing he could stand. This was too stifling, laying back. “What do you need, Percy?”

  “I want to…help me up,” Percy sobbed, sweating, a contraction tackling him. He cried out, gasping for air, the immense tightening of muscles in his core startling and
inescapable. “Edward, this is going to be fast and I don’t know what I’m doing!”

  Percy rolled to his side, and Edward was there, helping him to his knees. Percy knelt on the bed, knees wide, the towel under him. Fluid dripped in an increasing stream from his ass, and he could feel himself opening, stretching. “Edward!”

  A contraction made him arch his back, screaming. He had no strength in his legs, and Edward tried to pull him flat to his back. Percy fought him, and Edward relented, helping Percy stay up on his knees on the bed. For some reason his body wanted to be upright. He wasn’t going to be birthing this babe flat on his back like a female breeder. The sheet pooled on the bed, and Percy was left naked and bare, but his body’s single-minded determination to give birth made him forget about being embarrassed.

  “Percy? Dear God, Mason and Reynard need to hurry up!”

  “I need you to…Edward, you’re going to be delivering our baby.” Percy was breathing through the waves of pain, slumping as the contraction eased its grip on his body. “They aren’t going to make it.”

  “I tried calling them as well,” Lord Lucius said, standing politely in the doorway, the usually reserved and sarcastic noble appearing hesitant, nervous. “I got no reply. Should I call for my doctor, Prince Edward?”

  “Percy? Up to you. I’ve delivered horses before, but I have no idea how to deliver a human baby. I’m sure the mechanics are similar…” Edward asked him, as Percy held on to Edward, his prince holding him upright.

  Another wave was coming. Hot fluid poured from his ass. It was thick, so it wasn’t blood, and Percy’s eyes went wide as he felt his insides opening, dilating. It was extremely disturbing and enlightening. His body was moving ahead with the birth, and Percy’s nerves be damned. Percy clawed at Edward’s arms, lifting himself up higher on his knees, the inside of his thighs soaking wet.

  Edward was saying something to Lord Lucius, but Percy was past hearing anything but his body’s demands. Soon. So very soon, he would be holding his babe.