Yes

There was jubilant laughter, foods of all varieties, and wine flowing all around as you sat as the guest of honor at the table housing the royal family of Phebis and yourself. During the formalities, that meant right next to King Claudius. It was a long table situated on a dais facing the entirety of the grand hall that the feast was taking place. Princess Clara was to your right, and the King of Phebis to your left. Then it was Queen Mereen, Prince Gregan, then his wife Countess Lilya. At least until the music started. King Claudius was dancing with a young lady easily twenty years his junior and Gregan had taken the kings seat to talk to you. It was your first time meeting him. It had taken quite sometime for him to hunt the contents of the feast which ranged from venison, bison, hog, and a variety of pheasant and hen.

“Last Itheria visited Phebis, my father said that a company of Frost Knights was leading the way of the march all the way into the palace. I hear one Frost Knight can kill fifty men before he falls, and more than a hundred goblins!” Gregan was just as loud as his father, but the women of the family almost seemed like dolls.

“That’s true, from what I hear. My cousin Duke Magus reigns over the Frostpeaks, and his Frost Knights would have no problem proving those stories true.” You had consumed a fair bit of wine, but your talk with Akina before hand had made you a little less gregarious than usual. Sir Garret stood directly behind you, and Akina, although not in sight, said she would be watching.

“Did you bring some, then?! Can I spar with one?”

You had actually asked your cousin Magus to assemble a company of Frost Knights so you could have them march here with you as usual tradition, but it seems—as usual—the threats of the Frostpeaks never rest. “Unfortunately, I did not. Duke Magus had need of them to suppress a legion of goblins.”

“A whole Legion!?” Gregan spat his wine on the table, “We shall march at once! Lilya! My sword!”

Gregan’s outburst was loud enough for a few guests to shoot puzzled glaneces your direction, but you **** Gregan back into his seat and give him back his wine, “Don’t be hasty, my friend. I assure you that the Duke of the Frostpeaks has it under control. He’s not called the shield of the South for no reason.”

“Hahah! And you, King Bryce! Fending off your own assassins. Surely you can hold your own in a sparring match too! We should have at it some time.”

Truth was, you were bred for stewardship and intrigue, and your marshal skills were par none. It was all you could do but rejoice when the music changed up and Gregan got up with his mug of wine to join the dance floor with a pretty little thing beside his dad. Countess Lilya had visibly disapproved, but neither of the ladies at the head table liked to dance, as you found out when you did your due diligence and asked Clara for a quick dance, but to no avail. Well...Queen Mereen didn’t seem to hate it at least. She did dance in her seat and clap, but King Claudius failed to bring her out over the younger affair. It was unusual for a king to be dancing with the rabble anyways in such a manner. A slow dance with a suitor or a vassal, maybe.

Out the corner of your eye you notice Countess Eria eyeballing you, and not in a good way. She was staring daggers at your direction and you wondered if maybe the drink in your hand that was just served may have had some sort of extra ingredient that would not go down well. Like clockwork, Sir Garret bends towards you to hand you a goblet of water instead.

“For your developing headache, Your Majesty. Your maidservant, Akina, insists,” Sir Garret practically mumbled the words in your ear and Princess Clara glanced sideways at you and him, no doubt wondering why the second drink was served.

“Thank you, Sir Garret. Be sure to thank her for me.” Seems Akina was watching what was being served despite her lack of visibility, and you thanked her silently while sipping the clear liquid. Despite the new drink delivery, Eria still eyed you intently, perhaps because the wine was still present in front of you.

‘So, she didn’t want you to wed Clara,’ you thought. So you decided some idle chit chat that looked like flirting from afar would be the perfect show for the Countess’ meal. Seemed the dancing wasn’t enough for her.

Leaning in close to Princess Clara so she can hear you and a hand on her thigh for balance ought to do it, “Clara, my sweetheart. Tell me, do you want to be Queen?”

The contact on her thigh and the soothing voice in her ear would’ve been enough to make her feel faint, but what you were insinuating with your words made her face as crimson as the blood moon, “Y-Your maj-j-jesty, are you asking me to be your queen?”

“No,” your tone was flat and turned her excitement to nervousness, “I’m asking if you want to be Queen. Or if it’s your father really pulling the strings?”

Clara looked to her dancing father, presumably for aid in this type of confrontation she wasn’t used to, but you pulled her eyes back in from her chin. This for sure would’ve looked like a coquettish gesture for Countess Eria’s distance.

“Don’t look to him,” You said, “Look to me. If you want to be Queen of Itheria, you must show me that I’m your king, not him. Then, you will tell me his motives behind setting this up. You must be as bold as a queen, because when you are mine, it will not be you bending to his will, but contrary. If you want to be Queen of Itheria, you should know that your are not the first suitor to cross my path, and even after we marry more will come. If you think. If you hesitate. If your loyalty wanes in passing like the moons, you will lose to them. I feel that even if you want to be Queen of Itheria, you lacked the spine to ask your father for this chance, because you’ve lacked spine with me. So your father set this up, that much is true. So you will tell me what I want, whether you want to be Queen, or he wants you to be queen, and you will not reject me this time.”

You release her chin and the growing heat of her thigh, giving back her freedom. As you lean away back into your seat you notice she leans a little towards you, longing for your touch to resume. You can’t help but think how much that rebound irked Countess Eria. If all the women in the Phebian royal family were marionettes, then you simply had to control them. You had stole that control from King Claudius while he drowned in wine and participated in festivities.

“Now,” you say, getting comfortable on the cushion of your seat, “Tell me. Why did I almost die today for a spineless suitor like you? Why does your father want this marriage just as bad as you? I don’t like lies, and I’ll make public how you insult me right now if I hear any.”

Despite not looking too disheveled, you witness Princess Clara fixing her dress in areas that didn’t need it and straightening her back. “I’m sure it’s as you suspect already, Your majesty. My father relies on Itheria completely, and without condition, for the defense of Phebis. He is legally unable to muster men-at-arms aside from the minimal levies that guard our walls. He also lacks the authority to refrain vassals from building their own private armies despite your sworn protection. Countess Eria has grown too powerful, gained too many allies. He cannot stop her if she decides to revolt, and your—I mean, Itheria’s promise of autonomy for our kingdom would mean he’d be usurped.”

“Unless I’m married to his daughter.” You muttered while rubbing the stubble on your chin in what was clearly a pondering stature.

“Yes, Your Majesty. You would be obligated to participate in defense of the revolt should it happen.” Clara leaned in close to you to tell the next part as a secret, “Word has it that Countess Eria has been enslaving the Elven refugees for labor. Promising freedom to those that work as mercenaries. She means to end the military occupation of Phebis by Itheria, by slaying my entire family. Of that I’m sure.”

“But speculation, all the same?” You turn to her. She was close enough to kiss, causing her to blush again and slowly retreat. All she did was nod in response.

Calling this arrangement between Phebis and Itheria a military occupation was nothing new if you recalled correctly. Part of the reason your fathers before would come with a contingent of Frost Knights as part of tradition was also arguably a show of ****. That lack of show may have been what emboldened Eria this time. Trained or not, an elf could prove a challenge even to a Frost Knight. Still, you heard what you wanted, and this web of political intrigue was starting to come together slowly.

“Very good,” You smiled at Princess Clara and returned your hand to her thigh earning a quiet yelp from her, “That’s a good pup. I will ask again. Do you want to be Queen?”

She was blushing again! While she nodded you were beginning to wonder how this girl didn’t buckle at the knees more often with how frequent her blood spiked. Hoping to rile up a certain Countess even more with your play flirting, you didn’t stop to consider how it might look for a king that finished dancing to witness you toasting Clara to the future.

“Bryce, my friend!” Claudius really was too loud for this kind of subtlety, “Can I take this to mean what I think it means?!”

Shit! You knew what this looked like. It looked like you were proposing to the young princess. At least to Claudius who only seemed to hear the last of it. In your hand was still the goblet of water that a certain ‘maidservant’ brought you. Akina must be snickering right now at the mess you got yourself in. If it wasn't the pleasure your dick was seeking getting you into trouble, then it was the folly of your other head thinking too much or too little. With the pressure put on you, and eyes and ears seeming to focus at the head table, you couldn’t help but think you were forgetting something when you answered Claudius.