Page 2 of Mated to the Crown
This is the oddest of my chores. It only started about 4 years ago. Royal Queen Charlotte had stepped down from the throne, leaving it to her surviving children. There was quite a bit of drama involved with that one since her oldest was a female. There was lore that a male needed to be the one on the throne, but also lore that if any of them were blessed with the Goddess’ mark they could be. She had the mark so she eventually took over.
Queen Charlotte had 3 children. Her oldest was (now) Queen Ilsa. Ilsa was married to King Henry and had three children, Elizabeth, Arthur and August. Princess Sandra was married to Prince James with two children, Malik and Joseph. The youngest of the children was Prince Nicholas who wanted absolutely nothing to do with the throne and disappeared a few years ago. I have not seen him in some time.
I had grown up in the castle, so many of Charlotte's grandchildren were close to my age. Malik and I were born the same year, Joseph two years later. Ilsa’s children were all a few years older than me but not by much. Growing up in the castle did not mean we all hung out though. The Royal family was still very segregated from the servant children. I had more in common with any of them than the Royal family, even being the oldest now. I guess technically we weren’t children anymore, but when treated like them sometimes I forget just how old I am.
Lyra and I are the only children to our parents. My Father Albert was one of the head War Room Generals. He had been helping strategically for years until his death. Once he died my Mother found it hard moving on and we stayed at the Palace. She had nowhere else to go, didn’t know anything but being a servant, so we stayed and the Palace didn’t bat an eye.
“But Dearie, tell me about him.” Charlotte interrupts my thoughts and I look up at her.
“Who?” She told me when I first started this chore to call her Charlotte, she didn’t want to be referred to as the Queen anymore. This was time we had without the prying eyes of everyone else so I finally did but it had been a huge leap of faith. She could have gotten me in so much trouble and exiled. Deep down though, I knew her time as a Queen was done and she just wanted a peaceful life.
“Malik. What is he up to?” Her head is back against the recliner, her eyes closed.
“What would I know about him, Charlotte?” I scoff, trying to find my page in the book again. A small laugh escapes her and she positions her head so she is looking at me again. Her face is pale, wrinkles escaping around her eyes and mouth. Her eyes had turned a dull brown over the years and her smile was barely there anymore. She is getting tired and she probably wouldn’t be around much longer. It pains me to see her like this, but knowing she has some comfort in me spending time with her reading is why I continue.
“He is your mate. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it yet.” She laughs.
“What are you talking about?” I slam the book shut. “He sure as shit isn’t my mate. He is a Royal. I’m a commoner. No, lower than that. A servant.” Heat rises to my cheeks. This is the first time in all these years she brought him up. We talk about her children and how they’ve changed. How the Royal line has changed over the years. We talk about her grandchildren and how they’ve grown up. We talk about little things, nothing political. She left that life behind when she stepped down. But now, looking at her as she taps her nose and the sparkle in her eye, I wonder if she knows something I don’t.
“Just keep an open mind. I’m tired. Can you keep reading?” She asks quietly.
My heart thumps loudly in my ears, trying to process it. There is no way he can be my mate. First off, he is Royal. Second off, the Goddess knows better than to mix up the blood lines. While I wish to be that, wish to see him one day, I know it isn’t meant to be.
I open up the book again, trying to squish down my emotions and find my place and begin reading. Charlotte nestles herself back in her chair again, leaning her head back against the large green recliner before falling asleep. After a few moments I close the book, glancing around the room.
They had basically banished her to this room when she stepped down. She wasn’t to be seen by the public and needed to live in secrecy. Her husband had died many years ago and she was truly alone. Her children were more concerned about the Royal duties than her, so she got washed aside. More chores were added to accommodate her and I was picked to come and be with her so she wasn’t lonely. Some days other people spend time with her, but for the most part she is alone in this room. Surrounded by books and other small things that mean a lot to her.
I stand up, placing the book down and putting my hand on her shoulder to say goodbye but she doesn’t move. I check her chest to see if it is rising and falling, and it doesn’t. I flinch backward.
“Charlotte? Charlotte?” I reach forward and her skin is not the warm temperature it used to be, it is steadily falling in the cool room. I rear back again.Fuck, fuck fuck.I pace around a few times before remembering I know how to check for a pulse. With my index and middle finger I find the vein on her neck and feel around, feeling no heartbeat.Shit, double shit.
A knock startles me and I run to the door, tearing it open. There he stands, my supposed mate. He stands taller than me, spine straighter than ever with all of his training and education.He towers over me, making me feel small even though I’m 5’8”. His black hair is slicked to the side, his piercing blue eyes boring into me as he stands there. One hand - behind his back, and the other - up in a fist from knocking. He wears a suit but it’s garnished with extra buttons and stitching on the shoulders and chest to denote he is a Prince.Fuck.
MALIK
“Yes, please!” She moans. I grumble, pushing the concubine off of me. I snatch up the towel by the bed and wipe my dick, throwing the used up cloth to her as I make my way to the bathroom. I flip on the hot water and wait for it to heat up. I can hear her scampering to get her things, and I shake my head. I need to stop this shit. It never satisfies me the way I want it to.
“Excuse me, your Highness. Anything else you may need?” I turn to see her in the doorway looking meek. She huddles against the frame, her clothes askew as if she put them on in a hurry.
“Don’t come back. Tell Madam Delany I don’t want you again.” Her eyes widen but she nods, slipping out of my sight. A low grumble leaves me as I step into the shower, not caring if it is ready or not.
The hot water pours over me, the scent of fresh rainwater mixed with lavender. I grab the soap and begin rubbing it over myself. Why do I keep doing this? The concubines don’t make me feel any better, if anything they fuel my anger. Why have Inot been mated? Does the Goddess despise me so much? I am approaching 37. I can’t keep doing this shit. I need to move on and get out of this place.
That is what I want. My mother wants something else. I am the oldest of her children and she wants me to carry on the family legacy of being Royal. My father didn’t love her as much as he should, but also was not blessed with a Mate so it was a marriage of political importance. Something I was very quickly about to find out for myself.
I slide my hands down my body, closing my eyes as the soap gathers on my hips and the swell of my cock. I want a mate, I have dreamed of her for days now and I can’t get her from my mind. The dreams started harmless, just a beautiful woman I knew deep in my bones, but then they got more erotic. Her - beneath me in bed. Her - screaming my name. My hand slips down to my cock, the other pressing against the shower wall as I wrap my fist around my length. She makes me want her so fucking bad and I don’t even know who she is.
I slide my hand up, imagining it is her hand. The way her fingers grab me, her other hand running through my hair. She is shorter than me, I know that much, and her body fits against mine perfectly. Her waist dips in but her hips swell outward. She is not rail thin like these concubines, her body curves and moves in all the right ways. Her belly is plump, her tits perfect and her hips have a large curve but all I can imagine is myself grabbing them, pulling her back as I fuck her from behind.
My strokes quicken as I think of her. When the dreams first started it was meeting her, down at the stables. It quickly turned into us in bed, her bed - it must be - for it wasn’t the Palace. It was somewhere else. The hunger in her eyes, the way her hands touched me. I groan, my seed splashing out on the shower wall. I press my face against the cool surface. Surely thatshouldn’t have pleased me more than a concubine, but it did. I need her.
I quickly finish cleaning myself up and get dressed. Today I am supposed to meet two potential brides. I didn’t want to do any of this but I didn’t have a choice. I pull on black slacks, a white button up and my suit jacket. It’s adorned with patches, buttons and other embroidery. I hate it. I wanted to just wear a T-shirt and some jeans but if I go out in public like that my family will have a heart attack.
“Sir, are you almost ready?” A familiar voice calls through the door.
“Yes, Morgan. On my way.” I call out, combing my hair back until it looks proper enough to leave the room.Image is everything.My mother’s famous words.
I open the door and smile at Morgan. He is basically my Butler, I guess. He has been by my side since the day I was born, tasked to handle anything I needed. He is older than me, his hair graying and thinning out in the back. He is dressed in a simple black suit, nothing out of place except his wedding ring. He had married a few years back, and wouldn't even go on a honeymoon until I pretty much tricked him out of the Castle.
