How To Score A Threesome Without Really Trying - for annehiro
Title: How To Score A Threesome Without Really Trying
Author: kseda
Summary: "From that moment on, I was hers. And his. It's complicated."
Pairing: Ambrose/The Queen/Ahamo. Very much in that order.
Rating: R, for language
Warnings: First-person Ahamo, and his filthy dirty mind.
Author's Note: Anne, sweetie, I looked at your prompts, looked at you, and said "No, she really wants THIS." Thanks to naturalbluicons for the beta!
In my memory it all happened very quickly: the storm, losing control of the balloon, and getting control back only to look down and realize I was nowhere near Nebraska anymore. Then came landing, and a whole shitload of guns and blades being directed at me by guys in short black leather biker jackets.
"Aw hell," I managed to get out, and closed my eyes when the lead biker-guy clicked the safety off.
So I heard her before I saw her, my savior, my guardian angel.
"It is as foretold!"
When I heard the safety snap on again I chanced looking, and there was the most beautiful woman I ever did see. Her hair was dark and seemed to float behind her as she strode toward me, her eyes were Liz Taylor purple, and she was dressed in some peach-colored hippie Medieval princess gown that had lace framing her tits.
She was young, more than likely jail bait, but the guys were tripping over themselves to get out of her way. I straightened up and tried my charming bastard smile on her.
"Hello there-"
"Silence!" bellowed the guy who had almost shot me. "You've no right to address-"
"Silence yourself, Lonnot," the girl snapped, and her accent sounded almost English. The man bowed deeply and mumbled pleas for forgiveness, which she waved off in favor of studying the print on the balloon. Suddenly she gasped and pointed at me. "Ahamo!"
I thought mouths falling open just happened in books but damn if my jaw didn't drop. "Lady, did you just call me-"
"It is as foretold!" she repeated, and turned to address her.... guards, I guess. "I must take him to my advisor at once. We are not to be interrupted."
"Yes, your majesty," Shooty Guy, Lonnot or whatever, replied with a salute.
The girl turned back to me, with her gorgeous eyes and pale skin, smiled serenely, and clapped her hands.
Next thing I knew we were both in a hallway with marble floors and a mural-covered ceiling. This was both the nicest and stupidest dream I'd ever had.
"Welcome to the Outer Zone, slipper," the girl said, still smiling away. "I am Lavendel, queen of this realm. You have my sovereign word that you are safe here." She raised her right hand, and I was momentarily slack-jawed again by the huge amethyst ring on her middle finger. The queen raised her eyebrows elegantly and I finally remembered my Disney movies, bowed, and kissed the ring. She seemed pleased by this and chuckled softly.
I straightened and decided it was my turn to speak. "Your majesty is... very kind," I started, and her nod was encouraging. "My name is-"
"Stop," Lavendel commanded, and I obeyed like a loyal subject. She started down the hall and beckoned for me to follow. "It does not matter what your name was, you are Ahamo now."
I flinched and followed her. "Yeah, about that. What gives you the idea-"
"It is the name on your aircraft, only backwards," she pointed out, and I could have kicked myself. She turned down another identical corridor, and with a wave of her hand all the lamps lining it ignited. I whistled. "Is there magic in your world, slipper?"
"No, your highness."
She nodded and stopped before a set of bronze doors which were decorated with a compass rose framed by poppies. I was about to point out that east and west were backwards, but she set her palm over the center of the compass and the doors creaked, swinging inward.
The girl-queen gave me a final look. "Do as he says," she murmured and stepped through the door, calling for her advisor. I followed cautiously, my eyes taking time to adjust to the dim electric lighting in the large room. It was like some cross between a laboratory and a library, shelves of books off to the right, tables covered in chemistry kits and machinery to the left, and right in the center was a cloaked figure hunched over a writing desk.
"Advisor," Lavendel said as she stopped just short of the desk. "He has come, the one you declared would free us."
The advisor stirred with a mumble and rose to come closer to us. I held my breath as the hooded form circled around, studying me.
"He is very blond, majesty," the advisor rasped. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," the queen replied, and damned if I wasn't glad to see that her gorgeous smile was back. "He is from the Otherside."
The advisor drew a strangled breath and stopped before me, stepped closer, and I did my best not to flinch away.
"That is... fortuitous," the man said. He reached out to touch my face and I couldn't help but think that the feel of his skin was too delicate for an old guy.
Then the hood was drawn back and I was presented with a face even younger than then queen's, dark eyes and curly dark hair, pale skin and berry-pink lips. I did not go for guys (well, not often) but this kid was fucking pretty. Not that I was going to admit that. Yet.
"Hello," he said with a sweet smile of his own. "What shall we call the slipper?"
Lavendel came around and draped herself over his shoulder. "Ahamo. It was either that or 'Omaha'."
The man - boy - youth finally dropped his hand from my cheek with a snicker. "Well done, Del. How did he arrive?"
"Some flying contraption," she said with a wave. "I'll have it brought here so you may study it, Ambrose." She was still smiling as well, and I felt like I should maybe be running, but to where? And from what? A couple of (pretty) creepy teenagers?
"Okay!" I began. "In the past hour I've been literally cut loose from the fair, probably blown halfway to Kansas, then some storm turns up and somehow lands me in some crazy Tolkien fan's bad trip where I'm part of some prophetic master plan. Now what the hell's going on?"
They glanced at each other and shrugged, a perfect matched set. Finally the queen sighed and melted away from her cohort. "There is no plan," she said and started walking towards the back of the room. With a wave of her hand, curtains parted and glass doors opened onto a garden terrace. With no other option I followed her, Ambrose the advisor falling into step behind me.
The garden was the sort of place my mom always envied, with lots of fountains and bushes trimmed to perfection. The paths were lined with poppies, nothing was wilted or dead or out of place; there was even a damn peacock wandering around. Lavendel had made her way to the shade of a rain tree and a round stone table with a glass mosaic top that had that same compass design. The table was surrounded by a circular bench and laid out with a plate of fruit and pastry covered with a glass dome, three glasses, and an open bottle of white wine.
"Oh thank God," I sighed and settled across from her, took the bottle and a glass and poured myself a generous drink.
Ambrose had shed his cloak somewhere along the line; under it he was wearing some kind of uniform featuring a burgundy tailcoat with lots of gold braiding. He was making clucking noises at the peacock, who sauntered over eagerly.
None of this was as interesting as my wine, which was all nectar and pecan and blessedly stronger than your typical Earth wine. I savored one more taste before I decided I was ready to try engaging in conversation again. "Wait. No plan?"
"Well, there is now," the queen conceded and lifted the dome from the plate. I ignored the pomegranate (Ambrose snagged it immediately), took what might have been a croissant, and gestured for the girl to continue. "Your arrival has helped us tremendously."
"Ahamo," Ambrose began. He had produced a knife from somewhere and sliced the fruit open, offering half to the peacock. I was momentarily distracted by the red juice dripping from his hand and quickly glanced up to meet his eyes. His expression was somber. "You are about to become a hero, not only to us but for all of her majesty's people."
I chewed on the pastry with care, that dread coming back again. "Lemme guess. You have a dragon or a troll that needs slaying, right?"
Lavendel actually giggled and accepted a glass of wine from her advisor. "Not at all, don't be silly," she chided. "You merely need to become my consort."
"Consort?" I repeated, thinking I had to have misheard that. So I looked to Ambrose, who merely shrugged and set his glass down demurely. "So, what, I have to marry her? She's just a kid!"
"I've nineteen annuals," the queen corrected, which was a shock as I could have sworn she was younger than me. "I am most certainly of marriageable age."
"Her majesty requires a consort to legitimize her heir's claim to the throne," Ambrose clarified.
I quickly finished my drink and poured a new one."You... have a kid."
At this the pair of them glanced at each other again. He shrugged. She bit her lip and fussed with her ring.
"Well," Lavendel began. "Not yet." Then she picked up her wine, considered it a moment, and set it on the ground with a sigh. The peacock instantly stalked over to investigate the new offering.
Finally it clicked and I pointed at her. "You're pregnant!" I yelped. "You got knocked up and have been waiting around for the first sucker to come along and-"
"Not the first," she snapped and slapped her hand on the table. "We have standards. And I would remind you that you are addressing a monarch."
"Show some respect," Ambrose added and bit into a strawberry.
I shook my head and sneered. "So sorry, your highness, I thought I was talking to a headstrong teenager who's been irresponsibly fooling around with some guy."
Instead of the expected regal tantrum I got silence. Neither of them looked at each other so I studied them in turn and saw the same faint blush.
Oh, great.
"Mazeltov," I sighed and raised my glass in toast to Ambrose. "Easy solution. Marry him, put me on the next hurricane out of here, everybody's happy."
"Impossible," Lavendel said and shook her head.
Ambrose looked downright scandalized. "Sir, I've taken a vow of celibacy."
I quirked my eyebrows. "Bullshit."
He blinked. The queen gasped, then dissolved into giggles. Her advisor tilted his head, smiled shyly, and chuckled as well. Somehow all the tension slipped away and I groaned and rubbed my face with my hands.
"All right, let's try this again. And start from the beginning this time."
It turned out the beginning was thirteen years ("annuals") ago, when Ambrose was presented to the queen (who had been a princess then) as a gift from the neighboring kingdom of Ev. He was a curiosity, intelligent and charming, a perfect companion for the girl. He'd been four, she six, and I could just imagine them growing up together, rattling around spaces meant for adults and making up their own legends about their world, themselves. They'd been best of friends and naturally became more when they got older. Much, much more.
"And now you've made your grand entrance, like something foretold in myth, in our time of dire need," Lavendel concluded. She'd moved to sit beside me and had a hand resting on my knee. "A perfect prince."
"Uh huh," I replied. I still had a major problem with this whole plan. "Meanwhile I'm getting cuckolded."
"It wouldn't be like that," Ambrose murmured, right in my ear and I had no idea when he'd managed to sneak up on me. "You could be ours, Ahamo."
I could barely breathe, and Lavendel's eyes where nearly glowing when she added "We could be yours."
For a second I could buy it. I'd done some freaky things in my time and probably forgotten quite a few more, and warm lips were pressed to my neck and the queens hand was sneaking up my leg and-
"Wait, no," I said, and the kiss immediately turned into a bite. "Gah!"
Ambrose withdrew with a scowl and Lavendel tutted. "What, slipper?"
As politely as I could I shrugged her away, struggled to my feet, and held up my hands.
I took a deep breath. "I just got here, right? You don't know me. How can you... propose... aw hell."
The two of them came together in the space on the bench I'd just abandoned, he pulled her into his lap and both were pouting up at me. Damnit.
"You're brash," Ambrose said, and he really needed to not lick his lips like that. "You're chaos, you don't fit in. You have no manners whatsoever and you don't care."
Lavendel nodded and absently toyed with the lacing on her bodice. "You would keep things interesting."
"And you are very, very blond."
"Ambrose loves blonds," she clarified breathlessly, as if I hadn't gotten the picture. Her eyes were glittering again. "If you say no, we can always have you thrown in the dungeon until you change your mind."
Ambrose's arms tightened around his queen. "There might be shackles."
I thought about that, about the two of them, dark and beautiful and wholly used to getting their own way all the time. I swallowed hard and nodded.
"All right," I found myself saying. "But, uh, if I ever need more convincing? Keep the dungeon thing in mind." They grinned a little too happily. "And we'll need some rules."
"Naturally," Lavendel agreed with a shrug.
"Okay. First rule? The peacock stays out of it."
fin
Author: kseda
Summary: "From that moment on, I was hers. And his. It's complicated."
Pairing: Ambrose/The Queen/Ahamo. Very much in that order.
Rating: R, for language
Warnings: First-person Ahamo, and his filthy dirty mind.
Author's Note: Anne, sweetie, I looked at your prompts, looked at you, and said "No, she really wants THIS." Thanks to naturalbluicons for the beta!
In my memory it all happened very quickly: the storm, losing control of the balloon, and getting control back only to look down and realize I was nowhere near Nebraska anymore. Then came landing, and a whole shitload of guns and blades being directed at me by guys in short black leather biker jackets.
"Aw hell," I managed to get out, and closed my eyes when the lead biker-guy clicked the safety off.
So I heard her before I saw her, my savior, my guardian angel.
"It is as foretold!"
When I heard the safety snap on again I chanced looking, and there was the most beautiful woman I ever did see. Her hair was dark and seemed to float behind her as she strode toward me, her eyes were Liz Taylor purple, and she was dressed in some peach-colored hippie Medieval princess gown that had lace framing her tits.
She was young, more than likely jail bait, but the guys were tripping over themselves to get out of her way. I straightened up and tried my charming bastard smile on her.
"Hello there-"
"Silence!" bellowed the guy who had almost shot me. "You've no right to address-"
"Silence yourself, Lonnot," the girl snapped, and her accent sounded almost English. The man bowed deeply and mumbled pleas for forgiveness, which she waved off in favor of studying the print on the balloon. Suddenly she gasped and pointed at me. "Ahamo!"
I thought mouths falling open just happened in books but damn if my jaw didn't drop. "Lady, did you just call me-"
"It is as foretold!" she repeated, and turned to address her.... guards, I guess. "I must take him to my advisor at once. We are not to be interrupted."
"Yes, your majesty," Shooty Guy, Lonnot or whatever, replied with a salute.
The girl turned back to me, with her gorgeous eyes and pale skin, smiled serenely, and clapped her hands.
Next thing I knew we were both in a hallway with marble floors and a mural-covered ceiling. This was both the nicest and stupidest dream I'd ever had.
"Welcome to the Outer Zone, slipper," the girl said, still smiling away. "I am Lavendel, queen of this realm. You have my sovereign word that you are safe here." She raised her right hand, and I was momentarily slack-jawed again by the huge amethyst ring on her middle finger. The queen raised her eyebrows elegantly and I finally remembered my Disney movies, bowed, and kissed the ring. She seemed pleased by this and chuckled softly.
I straightened and decided it was my turn to speak. "Your majesty is... very kind," I started, and her nod was encouraging. "My name is-"
"Stop," Lavendel commanded, and I obeyed like a loyal subject. She started down the hall and beckoned for me to follow. "It does not matter what your name was, you are Ahamo now."
I flinched and followed her. "Yeah, about that. What gives you the idea-"
"It is the name on your aircraft, only backwards," she pointed out, and I could have kicked myself. She turned down another identical corridor, and with a wave of her hand all the lamps lining it ignited. I whistled. "Is there magic in your world, slipper?"
"No, your highness."
She nodded and stopped before a set of bronze doors which were decorated with a compass rose framed by poppies. I was about to point out that east and west were backwards, but she set her palm over the center of the compass and the doors creaked, swinging inward.
The girl-queen gave me a final look. "Do as he says," she murmured and stepped through the door, calling for her advisor. I followed cautiously, my eyes taking time to adjust to the dim electric lighting in the large room. It was like some cross between a laboratory and a library, shelves of books off to the right, tables covered in chemistry kits and machinery to the left, and right in the center was a cloaked figure hunched over a writing desk.
"Advisor," Lavendel said as she stopped just short of the desk. "He has come, the one you declared would free us."
The advisor stirred with a mumble and rose to come closer to us. I held my breath as the hooded form circled around, studying me.
"He is very blond, majesty," the advisor rasped. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," the queen replied, and damned if I wasn't glad to see that her gorgeous smile was back. "He is from the Otherside."
The advisor drew a strangled breath and stopped before me, stepped closer, and I did my best not to flinch away.
"That is... fortuitous," the man said. He reached out to touch my face and I couldn't help but think that the feel of his skin was too delicate for an old guy.
Then the hood was drawn back and I was presented with a face even younger than then queen's, dark eyes and curly dark hair, pale skin and berry-pink lips. I did not go for guys (well, not often) but this kid was fucking pretty. Not that I was going to admit that. Yet.
"Hello," he said with a sweet smile of his own. "What shall we call the slipper?"
Lavendel came around and draped herself over his shoulder. "Ahamo. It was either that or 'Omaha'."
The man - boy - youth finally dropped his hand from my cheek with a snicker. "Well done, Del. How did he arrive?"
"Some flying contraption," she said with a wave. "I'll have it brought here so you may study it, Ambrose." She was still smiling as well, and I felt like I should maybe be running, but to where? And from what? A couple of (pretty) creepy teenagers?
"Okay!" I began. "In the past hour I've been literally cut loose from the fair, probably blown halfway to Kansas, then some storm turns up and somehow lands me in some crazy Tolkien fan's bad trip where I'm part of some prophetic master plan. Now what the hell's going on?"
They glanced at each other and shrugged, a perfect matched set. Finally the queen sighed and melted away from her cohort. "There is no plan," she said and started walking towards the back of the room. With a wave of her hand, curtains parted and glass doors opened onto a garden terrace. With no other option I followed her, Ambrose the advisor falling into step behind me.
The garden was the sort of place my mom always envied, with lots of fountains and bushes trimmed to perfection. The paths were lined with poppies, nothing was wilted or dead or out of place; there was even a damn peacock wandering around. Lavendel had made her way to the shade of a rain tree and a round stone table with a glass mosaic top that had that same compass design. The table was surrounded by a circular bench and laid out with a plate of fruit and pastry covered with a glass dome, three glasses, and an open bottle of white wine.
"Oh thank God," I sighed and settled across from her, took the bottle and a glass and poured myself a generous drink.
Ambrose had shed his cloak somewhere along the line; under it he was wearing some kind of uniform featuring a burgundy tailcoat with lots of gold braiding. He was making clucking noises at the peacock, who sauntered over eagerly.
None of this was as interesting as my wine, which was all nectar and pecan and blessedly stronger than your typical Earth wine. I savored one more taste before I decided I was ready to try engaging in conversation again. "Wait. No plan?"
"Well, there is now," the queen conceded and lifted the dome from the plate. I ignored the pomegranate (Ambrose snagged it immediately), took what might have been a croissant, and gestured for the girl to continue. "Your arrival has helped us tremendously."
"Ahamo," Ambrose began. He had produced a knife from somewhere and sliced the fruit open, offering half to the peacock. I was momentarily distracted by the red juice dripping from his hand and quickly glanced up to meet his eyes. His expression was somber. "You are about to become a hero, not only to us but for all of her majesty's people."
I chewed on the pastry with care, that dread coming back again. "Lemme guess. You have a dragon or a troll that needs slaying, right?"
Lavendel actually giggled and accepted a glass of wine from her advisor. "Not at all, don't be silly," she chided. "You merely need to become my consort."
"Consort?" I repeated, thinking I had to have misheard that. So I looked to Ambrose, who merely shrugged and set his glass down demurely. "So, what, I have to marry her? She's just a kid!"
"I've nineteen annuals," the queen corrected, which was a shock as I could have sworn she was younger than me. "I am most certainly of marriageable age."
"Her majesty requires a consort to legitimize her heir's claim to the throne," Ambrose clarified.
I quickly finished my drink and poured a new one."You... have a kid."
At this the pair of them glanced at each other again. He shrugged. She bit her lip and fussed with her ring.
"Well," Lavendel began. "Not yet." Then she picked up her wine, considered it a moment, and set it on the ground with a sigh. The peacock instantly stalked over to investigate the new offering.
Finally it clicked and I pointed at her. "You're pregnant!" I yelped. "You got knocked up and have been waiting around for the first sucker to come along and-"
"Not the first," she snapped and slapped her hand on the table. "We have standards. And I would remind you that you are addressing a monarch."
"Show some respect," Ambrose added and bit into a strawberry.
I shook my head and sneered. "So sorry, your highness, I thought I was talking to a headstrong teenager who's been irresponsibly fooling around with some guy."
Instead of the expected regal tantrum I got silence. Neither of them looked at each other so I studied them in turn and saw the same faint blush.
Oh, great.
"Mazeltov," I sighed and raised my glass in toast to Ambrose. "Easy solution. Marry him, put me on the next hurricane out of here, everybody's happy."
"Impossible," Lavendel said and shook her head.
Ambrose looked downright scandalized. "Sir, I've taken a vow of celibacy."
I quirked my eyebrows. "Bullshit."
He blinked. The queen gasped, then dissolved into giggles. Her advisor tilted his head, smiled shyly, and chuckled as well. Somehow all the tension slipped away and I groaned and rubbed my face with my hands.
"All right, let's try this again. And start from the beginning this time."
It turned out the beginning was thirteen years ("annuals") ago, when Ambrose was presented to the queen (who had been a princess then) as a gift from the neighboring kingdom of Ev. He was a curiosity, intelligent and charming, a perfect companion for the girl. He'd been four, she six, and I could just imagine them growing up together, rattling around spaces meant for adults and making up their own legends about their world, themselves. They'd been best of friends and naturally became more when they got older. Much, much more.
"And now you've made your grand entrance, like something foretold in myth, in our time of dire need," Lavendel concluded. She'd moved to sit beside me and had a hand resting on my knee. "A perfect prince."
"Uh huh," I replied. I still had a major problem with this whole plan. "Meanwhile I'm getting cuckolded."
"It wouldn't be like that," Ambrose murmured, right in my ear and I had no idea when he'd managed to sneak up on me. "You could be ours, Ahamo."
I could barely breathe, and Lavendel's eyes where nearly glowing when she added "We could be yours."
For a second I could buy it. I'd done some freaky things in my time and probably forgotten quite a few more, and warm lips were pressed to my neck and the queens hand was sneaking up my leg and-
"Wait, no," I said, and the kiss immediately turned into a bite. "Gah!"
Ambrose withdrew with a scowl and Lavendel tutted. "What, slipper?"
As politely as I could I shrugged her away, struggled to my feet, and held up my hands.
I took a deep breath. "I just got here, right? You don't know me. How can you... propose... aw hell."
The two of them came together in the space on the bench I'd just abandoned, he pulled her into his lap and both were pouting up at me. Damnit.
"You're brash," Ambrose said, and he really needed to not lick his lips like that. "You're chaos, you don't fit in. You have no manners whatsoever and you don't care."
Lavendel nodded and absently toyed with the lacing on her bodice. "You would keep things interesting."
"And you are very, very blond."
"Ambrose loves blonds," she clarified breathlessly, as if I hadn't gotten the picture. Her eyes were glittering again. "If you say no, we can always have you thrown in the dungeon until you change your mind."
Ambrose's arms tightened around his queen. "There might be shackles."
I thought about that, about the two of them, dark and beautiful and wholly used to getting their own way all the time. I swallowed hard and nodded.
"All right," I found myself saying. "But, uh, if I ever need more convincing? Keep the dungeon thing in mind." They grinned a little too happily. "And we'll need some rules."
"Naturally," Lavendel agreed with a shrug.
"Okay. First rule? The peacock stays out of it."
fin