Day 2: "Some Day My Prince Will Come" (Prince, Bride, uh, R?)
Title: Some Day My Prince Will Come
Fandom: Fairy Tales
Characters: Er. Prince, Bride, and Queen?
Rating: R
Words: ~1200
A/N: So, so sorry (only not). Oh, and the usual note about how this is read through and spellchecked but unbeta'ed, so commentary on typos is cool.
Some Day My Prince Will Come
"She seems rather chilly, dear," the Queen said as soon as the door was closed behind her. "That is to say, I know you love her, and of course I wouldn’t want to …make your choices for you."
The Prince raised both eyebrows high. "Mother, you've made every effort to make choices for me my entire life. And you're right, I do love her. She's not chilly at all, just nervous, or possibly being polite despite all provocation."
"But, wouldn't you like someone with more of a fiery nature? You know, someone with passion, to keep up with you?"
"To argue with me? There's a chance I have enough feminine running of my life already, but truly, she has plenty of passion."
"But she hasn't offered any objection to anything!"
"Honestly, mother. She's not cold, nor passive. She's a little reserved today of course, which might possibly have something to do with you offering that running commentary on castle etiquette in the first fifteen minutes after meeting her. I'm sure she understood the criticism implied, and it isn't as though she was crude about asking where the toilet was. And I'm going back in now; regardless of your opinion, I want to marry her, and I'm not about to leave her alone in that gilt-ridden monstrosity of a sitting room." He turned and opened the heavy door, leaving the Queen alone in the corridor.
She twisted her lips together as she thought. There had to be a way to get through to him. The girl was all but a damp dishcloth! She hadn't taken any of the opportunities for argument so generously offered, and well, the Queen wasn't going t live forever! Who was going to run the Prince's life for him when she was gone?
Perhaps a test of sorts. Something to show the Prince the girl was too passive for her on good.
Yes. Her lips untwisted as the obvious plan fell into place, and she turned away herself, off to find a pair of maids to arrange a bedchamber for the young lady.
When she had it ready, she returned to call the Prince and his Intended to supper. No sense in breaking with routine too early in the evening. The Intended was bright enough, conversing skillfully on a number of pressing issues of the kingdom, ranging from the controversy on appropriate slipper-making material to animal rights in regard to breaking and entering, and the evening passed pleasantly, despite the girl never actually raising her voice or seeming particularly impassioned, even when talk turned to the brouhaha over visually-impaired rodent abuse, which the Queen had to admit made the slipper problem seem quite tame indeed.
Finally, dessert had been served and eaten, and discussion had come to a natural stopping point, so the Queen yawned theatrically and hmmed and announced that really, it was quite past her bedtime. The Prince opened his mouth to object, but she wasn't about to allow him the option of simply staying up with his Intended and eventually hauling her off for quiet and passionless nookie in his royal converted nursery, so she bulled on ahead. "Come along, dear," she said. The maids have prepared a chamber that ought to be to your liking."
The Prince looked puzzled, but evidently thought better of his plan to interrupt, instead following along, which really was exactly what she wanted him to do. If the Intended thought it was so he would know where to find her when the time came for silent boring whoopee, that was fine.
The rounded the corner into the west tower, and the Queen opened a pair of thick doors, ushering the Intended in. "The girls will help you dress," she said, her tone soothing and bland. "And show you how to call them, should the need arise." And with that, she left the Intended to the mercies of her two favorite maids and turned to the Prince. "Walk your old mother to her quarters."
He rolled his eyes and winked over her head at the Intended, who was unsuspiciously going into her room. "Mother, you're hardly old; and I know what you're doing."
"Oh, I doubt that," she said, smiling the secretive smile that meant he was way out of his league. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked slowly along the corridor to the end, then turned back and entered the room next to the one into which she'd sent the Intended. She gestured to the one-way glass that was the Intended's mirror. "Look."
He glared and turned to leave, but she blocked the door and grabbed him by the ear to pull him across the room.
"Look. You'll see. No passion, and no vigor. A real woman, the kind you need, could…" she trailed off, startled at the scene on the other side of the glass. "A real woman can feel a lump smaller than a pea," she finished weakly.
"So I see," the Prince agreed, swallowing hard as he watched his Intended, naked and rosy and utterly possessed of passion, repeatedly feeling the tiny lump between her legs. "Er, I think she feels one. She seems to be having no trouble at all. Also, block this window at once!"
The Queen tore her eyes away from the writhing woman, whose hair was no longer in a prim bun and whose approach to nookie was clearly not entirely confined to the realm of silence. "Hmm?"
"Block the window! And Mother, what did you do to her?"
"Nothing, dear. I merely had the girls give her a bit of an aphrodisiac in her toothpaste, and of course they left her naked and uncovered."
"And that's nothing? God. She's going to think my family is insane, and then she'll never agree to marry me!"
"Well! I fully expected to find her peacefully and nakedly asleep, unable to find her own pea-sized lump. I intended to show you once and for all, she'd never be what you need!"
"Mother. Honestly. I'm a grown man. I think I can determine whether my bride-to-be is satisfactorily adept at masturbation." The Prince grinned. "Believe me. It's not her only area of passion."
The Queen sighed and glanced at the glass again. The Intended was bucking hard atop the stack of fluffy mattresses, fingers buried inside her, and she had to admit, she wasn't so stultifyingly demure as the Queen had feared. "Fine," she said. "So I was a little bit wrong. I was only looking out for your interests." She shook her head. "Damn. Well, go on in there and help her sate her urges. Poor girl's going to wind up bruised, the way she's going."
The Prince shook his head and pulled a heavy tapestry off the wall nearby, hanging it over the glass and sealing it in place with his personal Princely seal. "No watching." And then he moved quickly to the door.
The Queen stood a moment longer, then sank down into the chair nearest. No watching. Honestly. What did he take her for? She had a perfectly adequate imagination of her own, and as long as everyone else was abed, she might as well use it. She dragged up the lace-edge hem of her heavy skirt, and closed her eyes.
Fandom: Fairy Tales
Characters: Er. Prince, Bride, and Queen?
Rating: R
Words: ~1200
A/N: So, so sorry (only not). Oh, and the usual note about how this is read through and spellchecked but unbeta'ed, so commentary on typos is cool.
Some Day My Prince Will Come
"She seems rather chilly, dear," the Queen said as soon as the door was closed behind her. "That is to say, I know you love her, and of course I wouldn’t want to …make your choices for you."
The Prince raised both eyebrows high. "Mother, you've made every effort to make choices for me my entire life. And you're right, I do love her. She's not chilly at all, just nervous, or possibly being polite despite all provocation."
"But, wouldn't you like someone with more of a fiery nature? You know, someone with passion, to keep up with you?"
"To argue with me? There's a chance I have enough feminine running of my life already, but truly, she has plenty of passion."
"But she hasn't offered any objection to anything!"
"Honestly, mother. She's not cold, nor passive. She's a little reserved today of course, which might possibly have something to do with you offering that running commentary on castle etiquette in the first fifteen minutes after meeting her. I'm sure she understood the criticism implied, and it isn't as though she was crude about asking where the toilet was. And I'm going back in now; regardless of your opinion, I want to marry her, and I'm not about to leave her alone in that gilt-ridden monstrosity of a sitting room." He turned and opened the heavy door, leaving the Queen alone in the corridor.
She twisted her lips together as she thought. There had to be a way to get through to him. The girl was all but a damp dishcloth! She hadn't taken any of the opportunities for argument so generously offered, and well, the Queen wasn't going t live forever! Who was going to run the Prince's life for him when she was gone?
Perhaps a test of sorts. Something to show the Prince the girl was too passive for her on good.
Yes. Her lips untwisted as the obvious plan fell into place, and she turned away herself, off to find a pair of maids to arrange a bedchamber for the young lady.
When she had it ready, she returned to call the Prince and his Intended to supper. No sense in breaking with routine too early in the evening. The Intended was bright enough, conversing skillfully on a number of pressing issues of the kingdom, ranging from the controversy on appropriate slipper-making material to animal rights in regard to breaking and entering, and the evening passed pleasantly, despite the girl never actually raising her voice or seeming particularly impassioned, even when talk turned to the brouhaha over visually-impaired rodent abuse, which the Queen had to admit made the slipper problem seem quite tame indeed.
Finally, dessert had been served and eaten, and discussion had come to a natural stopping point, so the Queen yawned theatrically and hmmed and announced that really, it was quite past her bedtime. The Prince opened his mouth to object, but she wasn't about to allow him the option of simply staying up with his Intended and eventually hauling her off for quiet and passionless nookie in his royal converted nursery, so she bulled on ahead. "Come along, dear," she said. The maids have prepared a chamber that ought to be to your liking."
The Prince looked puzzled, but evidently thought better of his plan to interrupt, instead following along, which really was exactly what she wanted him to do. If the Intended thought it was so he would know where to find her when the time came for silent boring whoopee, that was fine.
The rounded the corner into the west tower, and the Queen opened a pair of thick doors, ushering the Intended in. "The girls will help you dress," she said, her tone soothing and bland. "And show you how to call them, should the need arise." And with that, she left the Intended to the mercies of her two favorite maids and turned to the Prince. "Walk your old mother to her quarters."
He rolled his eyes and winked over her head at the Intended, who was unsuspiciously going into her room. "Mother, you're hardly old; and I know what you're doing."
"Oh, I doubt that," she said, smiling the secretive smile that meant he was way out of his league. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked slowly along the corridor to the end, then turned back and entered the room next to the one into which she'd sent the Intended. She gestured to the one-way glass that was the Intended's mirror. "Look."
He glared and turned to leave, but she blocked the door and grabbed him by the ear to pull him across the room.
"Look. You'll see. No passion, and no vigor. A real woman, the kind you need, could…" she trailed off, startled at the scene on the other side of the glass. "A real woman can feel a lump smaller than a pea," she finished weakly.
"So I see," the Prince agreed, swallowing hard as he watched his Intended, naked and rosy and utterly possessed of passion, repeatedly feeling the tiny lump between her legs. "Er, I think she feels one. She seems to be having no trouble at all. Also, block this window at once!"
The Queen tore her eyes away from the writhing woman, whose hair was no longer in a prim bun and whose approach to nookie was clearly not entirely confined to the realm of silence. "Hmm?"
"Block the window! And Mother, what did you do to her?"
"Nothing, dear. I merely had the girls give her a bit of an aphrodisiac in her toothpaste, and of course they left her naked and uncovered."
"And that's nothing? God. She's going to think my family is insane, and then she'll never agree to marry me!"
"Well! I fully expected to find her peacefully and nakedly asleep, unable to find her own pea-sized lump. I intended to show you once and for all, she'd never be what you need!"
"Mother. Honestly. I'm a grown man. I think I can determine whether my bride-to-be is satisfactorily adept at masturbation." The Prince grinned. "Believe me. It's not her only area of passion."
The Queen sighed and glanced at the glass again. The Intended was bucking hard atop the stack of fluffy mattresses, fingers buried inside her, and she had to admit, she wasn't so stultifyingly demure as the Queen had feared. "Fine," she said. "So I was a little bit wrong. I was only looking out for your interests." She shook her head. "Damn. Well, go on in there and help her sate her urges. Poor girl's going to wind up bruised, the way she's going."
The Prince shook his head and pulled a heavy tapestry off the wall nearby, hanging it over the glass and sealing it in place with his personal Princely seal. "No watching." And then he moved quickly to the door.
The Queen stood a moment longer, then sank down into the chair nearest. No watching. Honestly. What did he take her for? She had a perfectly adequate imagination of her own, and as long as everyone else was abed, she might as well use it. She dragged up the lace-edge hem of her heavy skirt, and closed her eyes.