Later, Kara wakes you.

After removing the chair blocking the door, you return to your chamber and settle back on your bed, head spinning, and not just from the wine. The carefree days of the beginning of your rule, scarecely more than a year ago, were already beginning to feel remote, distant. When your time was mainly spent putting in a token effort ruling the kingdom and fucking your mother most nights. You rub your eyes, missing Akkhadia's warm, sensual touch and her depraved mind.

Thoughts of your bed in the capital calling you, you doze off.

-

“Busy night, love?” a familiar voice in your ear. Kara kisses your neck, her strong arms hugging you tightly from behind.

“Madeleine came by.” you say, your eyes still closed.

“Then you have my sympathies, Edward.” she chuckles. “This is why you should come to the war meetings. Maddie talks a big game, but I donnae think she has the stomach for them.”

“W-what am I going to tell her, Kara?” you ask. “Madeleine was under the impression I wanted to marry her.”

“You did go on a diplomatic trip, the sole purpose of which was your attempt to marry her.” Kara reminds you. “I can see where she got the idea.”

“I think she's going to take it badly. It may jeopardise her support for the war effort.”

“Ach, you never know. Jarl Hjordis might've killed us all by the end of the week. Then you've nothin' to worry about.” Kara quips.

“Gods willing.” you respond.

“Honestly, Edward. You jus' need to tell her.” Kara says. “An' the sooner the better. However she reacts, we'll deal with it.” the redhead says, squeezing your chest tightly, protectively.

“We've enough to worry about, with the Deanians, I suppose.”

“You've got that right, love. Maybe if the giantess proves too much to handle, you and Donald can fuck her into submission again?”

“I can't believe people heard about that.” you laugh.

“Donald wasn't exactly shy about recounting the tale. There's even a song about it.” Kara reminds you.

“Allsi- Gods.” you say softly.

“No doubt that's part of why Hjordis is fightin' so ferociously.” the princess muses. “Doesn't want her legacy to be a bawdy drinking tune.”

“I-I can imagine.” you slur. Something similar had happened to your father, King Bryce. Roland had taught you one of the tunes recounting the boy king's brief reign and grisly demise. Privately, you could admit you found it pretty funny.

“What's was it like?” Kara asks, one of her hands drifting down, winding it's way into your trousers.

“What, bedding a half-giantess?” you respond. “Exhausting.”

“I'll bet.” Kara says, fingers closing round your shaft, freeing it and beginning to stroke.

“Donald told me you have a trickle of giant blood yourself.” you tell the Beathan.

“Ach, that's hogcock.” she responds. “Aye, our da's maw was seven foot tall, but that doesn't mean anything, does it?”

“A lot of work for her seamstress, I suppose?”

Kara guffaws, her pace thrown off by your joke.

“What'd she do to you, exactly?” Kara asks.

“Well she had me as her captive.” you recount. “Before Donald arrived, she stroked my cock, taunted me with slavery and sat on my face.”

“Oh, how terrible.” Kara says in a neutral tone.

“As afraid for my life as I was... part of me enjoyed it.” you have to admit. “She's a comely woman, despite her personal and moral failings.”

“I suppose you do have a thing for strong women, aye?” Kara teases you.

“One or two of them.” you respond, before Kara flips you onto your back.

Deftly slipping out of her garments, she brings her sex down onto your face.

“Show me, Edward.” she says.