The Anniversary

Chapter 4 Part 2

Marcus neither rose nor shone, but he was roused by something highly excitable and feminine. He didn’t quite feel like opening his eyes yet, knowing the sunshine would blind him given how it peaked even through his eyelids. Whoever it was, they could wait a little bit longer. The bed was nice and warm and soft, and so was the comfortable weight on top of him. He could dream a little bit longer.

“You heard her. Rise and shine, big brother,” Emilia repeated. To ensure he would pay attention, she reached her hands around and under him, grabbing his buttocks and squeezing with moderate force. He groaned, not quite appreciating the gesture. Enjoyable as her touch was, sleep was nice too. After a few seconds, knowing he was still ambivalent, she spread them wide, and then moved her fingers nearer…

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he announced, not wanting to find out how far she was willing to take it to get her point across.

“You’re such a disappointment. The king sleeping in instead of his baby sister. ‘Absolutely reprehensible behaviour!’” she mocked a prosecutor or a priest or something equally uptight.

“Hmm,” Marcus agreed by exhaling. He put his own hands around Emilia, taking in her softness. Her hair was like a halo around her head in the morning, partially due to how light it was, but also because it was a complete mess. “What… was that?” he asked.

“It sounded like Anna. She miiight have caught a glimpse of my bottom. The poor thing.”

“Will it be alright?” he wondered. Anna probably wasn’t one to rat them out, but he could do some convincing either way.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ll manage her. I’m sure she isn’t sure herself what she saw exactly.” She giggled, then pushed herself up closer to his face, kissing him on the lips. “I’ll clear up any misunderstanding she might have about us.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea. She can’t possibly think of what her little girl is planning to use her rear for.” He put his hands on her butt and squeezed in retaliation for earlier. “It would be such a shame if it became unambiguous.” He then spread her flesh, trailing his finger around the ridges of her anus, then lightly probing the entrance until the very end of his index finger was getting warmed by her insides.

“Ah! You lecherous king!” she said. She didn’t expect it, but it didn’t disappoint. Her sphincter twitched around the sudden intruder, both the initial touch and the ensuing pressure of her involuntary motions producing subtle pleasure on her prepubescent rectum, promises of what could be coming. “The way you fondle my buttocks, I wonder if you’d ever touch my cunt again if I put my womb in my intestines,” she whispered.

She flustered him to a halt; he was the one blushing and discomforted for a change. There was something immensely arousing about a ten-year-old being so foul-mouthed. She wouldn’t mind if he played with her for a little while—his fingers alone could bring her to completion—but she knew how one thing could lead to another, given their past couple of experiences.

She gave him a light slap on his face. “Get up, pervert,” she said as she did so herself. She sat on the edge of the bed, raised her hands to her head, and undid her bun, though it was half-ruined already after a full night’s sleep and the mischief that had preceded it. Her blond hair dropped down to her exposed back, shining alongside her skin in the sunrise. Marcus looked at her for a moment, taking in the childish beauty of her petite form.

“Marcus, we’re in my room, you know,” she reminded him. He was confused for moment before realising that yes, indeed, he’d slept with her rather than on his bed. He got up and started scavenging for his discarded clothes; he’d have to get fully dressed in his room.

“If we’re going to do this every night, you could store some of your clothes here,” she said, but got apprehensive as she looked around. “Though I might have to get some of the books and notes out.” It’s been some time since she cleaned her room a little, so this was as good an opportunity as any. In the meantime, she’d put some order on the mess on her head.

“That might make things a little too obvious,” Marcus said.

“So what if it does?” She turned to him with her impish smirk, but her big blue eyes could only hold his attention for so long before his gaze went lower, towards her n*****s. In turn, she looked at the flaccid flesh between his thighs, comically smaller than last night. Figures, she thought; otherwise he could hardly ride a horse comfortably. What was amazing in bed wasn’t always practical in everyday life.

He’d found his pants, and he put them on, before picking up the upper half. When he’d got dressed enough to be able to walk the short distance to the royal chambers with a modicum of modesty, he leaned in to kiss Emilia, first on her cheek, then lower on her neck, and on her collarbone. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Mm. Don’t be late,” she said, placing a hand on his face, and pulling on his earlobe.

“You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

He was right; she was still fumbling about with her hair. She wasn’t going to see the end of it this side of midday at this rate. She’d have to get “creative”. Some moisture, some heat, and a little witchcraft should untangle her bed hair. They sure had untangled her love life. How difficult could it be?

There was something about Emilia. There always had been, of course. She was Marcus’ sister, first in line of succession—at least until Marcus had an heir—and a cute little girl. Her position was attractive by default; anyone could do it in her shoes. She had avoided most of it up until recently, not having a taste for the public eye, but there was no denying how people looked. It was only going to get more blatant with time.

Still, there was something unusual going on. Perhaps the best way to reason about it was to consider the reactions Rebecca received by comparison. As the queen, she commanded significant attention—monopolising it in most situations. However, now occupying the same room as Emilia, one had to wonder how much of it she owed to her station instead of more intrinsic qualities. On the other hand, perhaps Rebecca’s place in the hierarchy was such a quality.

The princess infected everyone around her with fascination. Taking their eyes off her was a struggle, yet it had to be done, or risk potentially lethal faux pas. She had always been a charming lady, but over the past couple of days, something had happened to her, or she had awoken something in everyone surrounding her, sending those qualities into overdrive.

It was improper, unhealthy, and obsessive, and they knew that, but it was also irresistible. She was a radiant star among mere mortals. The changes she had performed on herself were too subtle to identify, but that didn’t mean they were imperceptible. The balance of her features, her skin, her hair, her voice, her smile, they all added up in supernatural beauty. Even for the finest bred men, and with infinite resources devoted to maintaining pristine looks, the results were simply beyond human ability. Perhaps they should have suspected witchcraft, but they were too busy staring at her…

Somehow, being ten years old made her all the more beautiful. The excitement of the forbidden. There was no excuse for it, because she wasn’t attractive in spite of her age; anyone could tell she was a preteen girl, and an underdeveloped one at that. Nor was she attractive while being her age, as if she’d captured some ethereal notion of fairness, and being ten years old was circumstantial.

No, it was the worst of all vices: she was attractive because she was a child. In her youth, she naturally had the features grown women tried to imitate against all odds. Though blemishes could be hidden, her skin had none to hide. Though grooming could be thorough, she needed no grooming to start with. Though femininity could be learned, other women had more in common with men than with her. Her appeal was beyond words and inarguable; those unable to appreciate her were doubly cursed, for they were also blind.

There was no need for her to show off, so she had shown up with the simplest dress in her possession, and her hair falling freely—not a single braid on it. She’d had to get creative in the end, and she’d even surprised herself with the results. She’d half-expected to fumble it and burn it, which would have taken more than a few minutes to fix. Appearances aside, she didn’t trust her “woman’s touch”, but she reserved her force, and successfully set herself straight. Completely. What she’d achieved between awakening and breakfast would have required thousands of brushes with more convenient methods; Anna was ecstatic! She didn’t want to ruin the effect with ornamentation, so she left it as is—at the end of the day, there was no arguing with perfection.

She sat beside Marcus and chatted with him all morning. Rebecca was on the other side, and though she did her best to hide it, her infuriated glare was like a javelin thrown at them. Emilia knew she was pissing her off by her mere presence; the queen’s mountainous ego was getting ground down to sand before the younger contestant. That, and Emilia had no problem engaging in skinship with the “brute” that had made her feel “yucky.”

There was no way for Rebecca to know for sure, but those two were siblings, so unless they were raised in complete isolation by the most traditionalist of parents, Emilia had to know of Marcus’ “peculiarity.” She had to. And yet, in spite of that, she showed no sign of revulsion, no involuntary shudder, no twitch of her eyes, nothing. If anything, she seemed elated to be in his presence, to make contact with him, to even eat beside him. She couldn’t understand it. The only way she could rationalise it was imagining she had a similar condition herself, so her genitals were… Yugh, she couldn’t bear the thought.

Emilia picked up on her reactions, so naturally the first thing that crossed her mind was to probe her further, see how far she could take it before she broke down. She made no claims to maturity; she was but a ten-year-old! If that sounded hypocritical in light of the last two nights, then she would remind the listener she made no claims to consistency either.

Marcus played along, though she doubted anything quite as conspiratorial motivated him. The way they were behaving, anyone would put two and two together in any other situation. They were laughing with each other far too much, at things that hardly warranted it—the dumbest of remarks, really. They touched a lot, whether “accidentally” while handling their eating utensils, or by pushing and probing each other in jest. Being siblings gave them a surprising amount of leeway sometimes.

Even so, the eye contact would have to stop. As shameless as she was, Emilia didn’t want to deal with being exposed, at least not yet. She took hold of her brother’s hand and guided it discreetly to her thighs. He seemed surprised, like he’d been unaware of his own behaviour up to that point.

“Emilia,” he whispered, a scolding undertone in his voice.

“Shh. You’re being too obvious, big brother. You’ll get us caught.” She spread her legs a bit, giving him easier access. If he wanted to, it wouldn’t be much trouble feeling under the fabric. “Pleasure yourself with this.”

He should have restrained himself, but he couldn’t deny there was a certain rush to the act, a lecherous anxiety that excited him, groping his little sister in front of others. She was right there, and if he wanted to, he could… He could feel her flesh even through her dress. He started moving his hand up and down, rubbing it, his body not entirely under his control.

He had to distract himself with something, but Emilia had already grabbed hold of today’s news. “Wow, would you look at this? Looks like good old Richard is up to no good again,” she said. Blood drained from Marcus’ face.

Oh, no.

“He showed up at some nobles’ estates, platoon in tow, complete with a bannerman. He dragged them through the streets, ignorant to their pleas of how preposterous he was.”

It was pretty preposterous. Damn it all, he’d told him to be discreet!

“When asked for comment, he said they were charged with indecent conduct towards the princess, her highness—well, me.”

He fondled Emilia’s thighs to comfort himself, trying to get some blood flow into his system, so that he wouldn’t look like a ghost. She liked the weight of his hand on her, and how tight he held onto her limb. It was like he was saying “you are mine.”

“They questioned how it would be possible to find a proper suitor for her highness, if everyone was afraid of being charged with indecency. Captain Richard of the royal guard added, ‘For the time being, her highness is for the king’s hands only.’ Aww, how sweet. Do you want to keep me all to yourself? Your hands can be very comfortable.”

She pushed his hand towards her pelvis. He could feel her warmth.

He cleared his throat. “Richard is running his mouth again.”

“Now, now, your highness, your friend has your best interest in mind,” Anna chimed in. “He knows how difficult it would be for a doting brother to part ways with his sister. It’s adorable.” She brought her hands to her cheeks.

“But the way he said it, in this kind of climate…”

“Oh my, your highness, you shouldn’t concern yourself with those. You know how the press can be,” Anna said, confirming her familiarity with the issue.

“Is there anyone in the kingdom who hasn’t concerned themselves with those rumours?” Marcus looked around. Even Rebecca, who’d been away until recently, lowered her head in admission. Information travelled faster than horses, apparently. If he’d wanted to declare war, he’d be surprised if the diplomat was half as efficient.

Emilia let go of the tabloid, and it was then that Marcus saw the frontpage. Right in the middle, in gigantic serif font and capital letters, spread across three lines, it read, “FOR HIS HANDS ONLY?” Then above it, in smaller print so that it would fit in a single line, “The plot thickens! The Captain all but confirms it:” Beside both, a sketch of the two of them holding hands, and looking in different directions as if trying too hard not to raise suspicions.

Oh, come on!

Marcus brought his head to the table with a thud, followed shortly by the clacking of the plates, the forks, and so on. “Kill me now,” he groaned.

“There, there,” Emilia patted him on the back, while brushing the back of his hand resting between her legs. “At least they’re seeing the funny side of it.” She was right; the clergy were no doubt up in arms over the whole situation, but as much influence as they had, they hadn’t stopped the journalists from constructing crowdsourced fanfiction and turning it into the nation’s pastime. But if neighbouring countries caught whiff of this…

Anna approached the table and picked up the tabloid, trying to spare Marcus from further agony. And also for her private safekeeping/stash, but nobody had to know about that. There was also a correspondence section in the end, and wanted to know if hers had made the cut. Plus, that picture looked so cute, she wanted to sit down and roll on the floor with happiness, like a cat.

“Thanks,” Marcus said, and lifted his head from the table. But since they’d been eating breakfast, he had something stuck on his face.

“Ah! Marcus, you have…,” Emilia said. He tilted his head in confusion. “On your cheek. You have marmalade.” He tried wiping it off, but he chose the wrong cheek. “I’ll get it for you.” She got up and pulled her hair back behind her ear, so that it wouldn’t get in the way. Then she leaned in on his face, bringing her mouth to the offending region and scooped it up with her tongue. He’d pulled back a little, not expecting to be cleaned up that way, but then he let her do her thing.

She lingered a bit too long for such a small task, and though others couldn’t see it, the way she licked him, running her tongue over his skin so playfully, it was very sensual. Once she’d had her fill, she sat back down and licked her lips. “You’re very sweet,” she said. Marcus was blushing and his heart was beating as if he’d finished running a marathon, and judging by the awkward silence, everyone else was feeling confused as well.

Rebecca in particular was now fuming. Her disgust had intensified and was now mixed with jealousy. Though she found him appalling, Emilia’s behaviour and the nation’s incomprehensible reactions were putting her own standing into question. She would not have that. She’d gone through so much to secure this position, and stomached things no woman should; she’d deserved to reap the benefits of her sacrifices. She bit her lip and swallowed her revulsion.

“Marcus, dear, it’s such a beautiful day today, and you’ve been working yourself so hard,” she said, planting an idea into his head without actually saying it. Emilia, having pushed her to this point, moved in with her trap.

“The gardens are heavenly this time of year,” Emilia said. She could feel Rebecca turning to her as if trying to kill her with her eyeballs, and revelled in her agony. “It would be a shame if we had to wait another year.”

“Okay, then, how about an afternoon stroll? It should give everyone some time to relax now that the festivities have all been taken care of.”

“Oh, what a wonderful idea!” Rebecca said, a tiny hint of sarcasm finding its way to her words, almost inaudible if one wasn’t looking out for it.

“It’s a date,” Emilia agreed. She had some idea of what Rebecca was trying to do, and this was her great chance. The two of them had talked maybe a couple of times before—never in private—but now that she and Marcus had sorted things out between them, this would be how she’d live up to her responsibilities and take care of the queen, establishing her boundaries. Having achieved that, Emilia got up; she had a class to attend. “Don’t be too hard on Richard, okay?”

Marcus nodded. “Have a good day,” he said and gave her a hug.

“I love you,” Emilia said to his ear right before breaking it, before he had a chance to respond, then ran to her destination, her heart filled with joy.