Henry's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the first light of dawn seeping through the curtains. He turned his head to the side, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked at the woman lying beside him.The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm glow on Mary's naked body, highlighting her soft curves and the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
He couldn't believe she had stayed the night, not running away like the last time. His heart swelled with affection for her, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean in and softly kiss her forehead, her eyes, nose, cheeks, and lips. She stirred slightly, a small smile playing on her lips as she slept on.
His gaze traveled down her body, remembering every inch of her that he had explored the night before. His cock stiffened as he recalled the way she had sucked his cock the night before, her lips wrapped around his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. He couldn't help but groan at the memory, his dick throbbing with need.
He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted her again, needed to feel her body against his, needed to hear her moans of pleasure. He started peppering kisses down her neck, her collarbone, and her chest. He took his time, exploring every inch of her skin with his lips and tongue. He moved lower, his kisses peppering her belly and her mound, before he softly kissed her pussy, inhaling her scent, and started eating her out, groaning in her sweet taste.
His tongue darted out, his tongue delving into her folds and licking her folds. He could feel her hips twitch as he licked and sucked, her body responding to his touch. He smiled against her pussy, his tongue flicking against her clit, eagerly eating her out, his fingers exploring her folds.
Mary woke up with a moan, her eyes fluttering open. "Henry," she gasped, her voice thick with desire. He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers as he continued to eat her pussy. Her body trembled with pleasure as Henry's tongue worked its magic. She tangled her hands in his hair, pushing his face more into her pussy, urging him on. He groaned against her pussy, eagerly eating her out, savoring every whimper and moan that escaped her lips, his cock throbbing with need. He could feel her body trembling, her legs shook as she came closer to her orgasm.
Mary came hard, her body shaking as she rode out her orgasm. Her pussy clenched as she came, her juices flowing into his mouth. He lapped it up, his tongue swirling around her clit as he continued to eat her out, not wanting to stop. But when she pushed him away, he knew she had had enough. He wanted to fuck her but he feared he might hurt her as she was sore.
Henry moved up and got on top of her. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, her body trembling as she came down from her orgasm. She was breathtaking, her body flushed with pleasure, her eyes half-closed. Henry leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Meet me at the meeting hall."
Mary smiled, her eyes bright with pleasure, and nodded. Henry left the room, his mind already on the meeting ahead, a meeting which would ultimately decide their fate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the meeting hall
The air in the Great Hall was heavy, scented with smoke and anticipation. Stained glass windows cast fractured light across the stone floor, bleeding reds and gold into the quiet stillness of assembled nobility.
Mary stood near the back of the chamber, veiled in mourning black, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as though prayer might keep her heart from breaking all over again. Her head bowed, not solely from grief, but from guilt. A quiet, terrible guilt that whispered of secrets never meant to be touched. Her husband was gone. Her queen, too. And in the wreckage of that loss… she had let herself lean into forbidden arms. Into the warmth of a man whose crown gleamed brighter than fire, and whose lips had whispered comfort too intimately to forget.
She and the king had grown close after the funerals, drawn together in sorrow, in silence, in need. But need, she learned, was a dangerous thing.
King Henry sat upon his throne, still as marble. But behind his eyes, always watching her. There was something alive. Something simmering just beneath the surface. Not grief. Not anymore.
Obsession.
"My king," Lord Weswood began, stepping forward with the poise of experience, "with the loss of the crown prince, we must begin discussions of succession. The realm is uneasy."
Henry did not respond.
Lady Alsha stepped into the hush. "We extend our condolences not only for His Highness, but for the late queen as well. Her passing leaves a void that cannot be filled."
Mary's fingers curled tighter, not from the sting of grief alone, but from guilt that twisted in her chest like a cruel vine. The queen had been kind to her. Gentle. Almost like a second mother. And yet Mary had repaid that warmth with betrayal.
She had stood beside the queen's lifeless form, watched her lowered into the royal tomb… and days later, with sorrow still clinging to her skin like perfume, she had let that woman's husband into her arms. Into herself. No protest. No pause. Her body had yielded to him with a quiet hunger that terrified her now in the light of day.
She had whispered the queen's name in mourning, only to later cry out for the king in the dark.
And that memory, like a bruise that never quite healed, pulsed beneath her ribcage now as the room buzzed around her.
Lord Eric, always a touch too bold, cleared his throat. "Forgive me, sire, but for the sake of the kingdom, may I suggest… remarriage? A noble bride could provide an heir. There are many eligible ladies of fine blood—"
"Or," Lady Treyn said, voice like honey, "perhaps the Princess Mary should be wed again. She is still young. Still in her prime. And the Duke of Catherlow—"
She didn't get to finish.
Henry's eyes snapped to her so fast the breath left the room.
And in that silence, his mind was no longer in the hall, it was back at the funeral. A week past. Rain on black stone. Mary's shoulders shaking in her mourning gown. And the Duke… standing too close. Holding her elbow. Whispering softly. Offering his handkerchief. His hand grazing her back.
She had let him.
Henry had watched from the shadows, rage blooming like thorns behind his ribs.
He touched her. He dared.
Not like I did. Not like the night she came to me in her grief and let me hold her as she wept. Not when she kissed me like drowning, clung to me like I was the only thing left keeping her from breaking apart. That night wasn't sorrow. It was surrender. And I cannot forget the way she tasted of tears and sin, the way she said my name when she shouldn't have.
No other man will ever touch her like that again. I won't allow it. I will burn kingdoms before I let it happen.
"My liege?" Westwood asked cautiously. "Do you… have a preference?"
The king rose.
Slowly. Deliberately.
The rustle of his cloak was the only sound in the hall. Mary looked up then, meeting his gaze — startled, unsure. And again, that guilt. That burn in her chest.
But she didn't know. Not truly. She couldn't. She didn't know how deeply the king's hand had shaped this sorrow — how her husband's death in battle had been more than just fate. How even the queen's sudden decline had been less illness… and more design. No one knew.
Only Henry.
"No," he said aloud. The word echoed.
Another pause. Another breathless wait.
"I will not remarry," he continued, voice cold as steel. "And the princess shall not be given away like a prize to the highest bidder."
He descended the steps of his throne, one by one. The chamber hung on every word.
"She has mourned with dignity. She has carried the crown beside my son. She has walked through grief as no other woman could. And she shall walk beside me still."
He stopped at the base of the dais, eyes fixed on her like a vow.
"She will be queen. By my side."
Chaos erupted. Voices tangled in disbelief. Nobles gasped, whispered, objected. But Henry… was unmoved.
Mary froze. The blood drained from her cheeks.
She had never expected this. Never imagined it.
But Henry had.
He had dreamed of it.
Planned for it.
And now… he would have it.
Not even the gods could stop him.