Loathe to Love Ch. 01

Literotic asexstories – Loathe to Love Ch. 01 by batteries,batteries
I glared at the portrait of my distant ancestor Horace the Third–apparently a large bearded man whose head was slightly too wide for his crown.

The portrait stared straight back.

Absently, I wondered if Horace ever felt as miserably bored as I was right then. In his youth, had he been made to wait in the antechamber outside of the throne room for over an hour? Perhaps back then he’d paced the length of the room, fidgeted in the uncomfortable high-backed chairs, and stared daggers at artwork just as I was doing now. I doubted it.

Because while Horace had been an only child, I was the youngest of the queen’s four daughters. And according to tradition, each new royal child was less important than the last: the oldest went into statecraft, the second went into the clergy, the third went into business, and the fourth and beyond went out of their minds with boredom. So while young Horace had been expected to lead his kingdom some day, my greatest duty was to avoid being in the way.

Which made today’s summons something of a mystery. Mother rarely called on me for anything ever, let alone during daylight hours in an official capacity. I’d wracked my brain all morning trying to discern why: Was someone dead? About to die? Was there some terribly exciting war or calamity I needed to be warned of? Maybe my unique skills–mainly looking busy and petty theft–were required to resolve a diplomatic crisis.

Sitting around for an hour playing with my chin-length chestnut hair wasn’t exactly building anticipation, though. Part of me wondered if maybe my mother had forgotten I was out here. I glanced at the two other people in the cramped antechamber, a guard and one of mother’s ladies-in-waiting.

I addressed the latter. “Any idea what’s keeping them?”

She shook her head. “My apologies, Princess Penelope. Can I get you anything?”

“No.” An idea struck me. “Actually, get me some water.”

“Of course, Princess Penelope.” The servant bowed her head then left the room, giving me my golden opportunity.

I stood and reached under my skirt to grab the pen knife stashed in my garter. In a series of quick, smooth motions, I went over to Horace the Third, scraped off the paint around his nose, then sat back in my seat long before Astrid returned. A quick glance confirmed the throne room guard was pretending not to have noticed–less trouble for her in the long run. A smirk slid onto my face as I took in the now-noseless portrait. That’d teach that old bastard Horace not to stare. Teach mother not to make me wait, for that matter.

Thankfully, the door to the throne room opened only a few minutes later. The majordomo–a short, stern woman around mother’s age named Selene–beckoned me to enter. I complied but made a heroic effort to drag my feet and take as long as possible, much to Selene’s annoyance. When I entered the room and saw what was inside, though, I realized no delay could have possibly been long enough.

The throne room’s tall, arched windows cast beams of afternoon light onto the room’s red carpeting and sparse furniture. In the center of the room, my mother and three sisters sat around a wide, circular table. They all looked expectantly at me, giving off the air of judges or interrogators. Mother gestured to the empty seat. “Please, Penelope. Come sit.”

I warily made my way forward, examining each of my family members in turn for some clue of what was to come. In terms of proportions, I was the odd one out–in a cruel twist of fate, all of the other women in my family were given curves and childbearing hips while I stood tall and lanky. It was a comparison I couldn’t help making, and one I didn’t particularly enjoy.

Mother looked stoic as ever, her hands folded on the lap and her expression betraying absolutely nothing. From the tip of her golden crown to her deep purple robe all the way down to her heels, not a single element of her appearance was out of place.

Janice, my oldest sister and heir to the throne, barely spared me a glance. She was far more interested in keeping her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes and scribbling fervently on a scroll in front of her. While she carried herself with the same seriousness as mother, she wasn’t as comfortable with it. As far as I could tell, anyway. We barely ever spoke.

To her left sat Carmen, newly minted Bishop, soft-spoken brunette, and my lone ally in the room. She offered me a gentle smile as I approached, one I gratefully returned. We’d been closer as girls than we were now, but she still had my absolute trust.

Unlike my third sister Bethany, destroyer of wealth and waster of loans. At some point Beth had gotten it into her head that because we were closest in age, I was directly competing with her for…something. To this end, her lifelong goal seemed to be proving herself superior to me–a goal she wasn’t particularly good at pursuing. But the smug self-satisfaction smeared all over her face meant today was likely a victory for her. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought as I sat down.

“Hello,” I mumbled.

Mother cleared her throat and began to speak. “Hello, Penelope. We’ve been talking all about you, and about your future.”

I tried to check in with Carmen, but she expertly avoided eye contact.

“Over the past several decades, our family ties to the military have grown rather threadbare. We believe you are well positioned to address this oversight.”

Oh Goddess, there was going to be a war, wasn’t there.

Mother smiled wide and slid an envelope across the table to me. “We’ve found you a wife.”

My heart skipped a beat, then skipped several more for good measure. “…what?”

“Open it, dear.”

I did everything within my power to ignore Beth’s shit-eating grin as I broke the seal on the envelope. Inside, there was a sketch of a young woman with short hair and a serious, freckled face. A letter came with it. I briefly skimmed it, still caught up in disbelief:

‘…I am delighted to have been chosen…the beauty of Princess Penelope is beyond compare…was knighted after my service in the…looking forward to meeting…Yours, Ser Natalia Reinov’

The letter began to crumble in my clenched fist as the icy shock in my chest thawed into anger. “You’re marrying me off to a soldier?”

Janice piped up, still focused on her work. “Not just a soldier. Ser Natalia is a well-respected commander with few allegiances and no political ambitions. An ideal candidate, really.”

“Seriously?” I tried to push down my frustration, but it kept slithering out of my control; my voice became uneven and tears began forming in the corner of my eyes. “You finally take an interest in my life and it’s for this? To get rid of me?”

Carmen reached her hand across the table. I clung to it like a lifeline. “It’s not like that, Penelope. Nobody wants to get rid of you.” Her thumb stroked over my knuckles, gently encouraging me to relax my grip. “But we all have a part to play, and this is yours. For the sake of the family.”

I looked at the faces around me and saw unanimous agreement. They’d planned this. Mother, her three daughters who actually mattered, and probably a whole host of advisors and courtiers had come together to decide my fate without me even knowing.

Which meant there was no real point in trying to resist.

“Okay.”

Five minutes later, the meeting was over. Mother explained my itinerary for the next several weeks: A royal ball, a few informal gatherings, the wedding itself. She offered a few details about my bride-to-be, all of which were about battles or military honors I’d never heard of, and then she politely invited me to leave so she could speak with my sisters further. Selene escorted me out, and that was that.

The throne room doors shut behind me, and I was left in the antechamber alone save for a silent guard and a barrage of overwhelming emotions. Grief, betrayal, fury, confusion, fear…spite. Spite sounded perfect just then. It was a well trod path, an old standby to manage my frustrations.

Fuelled by spite, I enacted a castle-wide campaign of sabotage. Vases were ‘accidentally’ knocked over to shatter on the floor; loose coins, cutlery, and other trinkets went ‘missing’ in my wake. I picked up jars of grease and honey from the kitchens, then used them to slick up doorknobs and gunk up locks. Passing servants gave me a wide berth, seeing the fire in my eyes and knowing I was up to no good. It was satisfying work: the sound and feeling of the guest room curtains ripping in my grasp was nothing short of cathartic, while watching bedsheets tumble out of open windows to the muddy ground below was mesmerizing.

But just when I’d finally started to feel a little bit better, I came across another Goddess-damned painting of Horace the Third in the main hall.

He was on horseback dressed in full armor, leading his army into battle. It was as if he was taunting me:

‘Take a good look, Penelope,’ he seemed to say. ‘You’re to be a soldier’s wife now, after all. A

Struck by a quick flash of rage, I drew my pen knife and slashed the canvas straight down the middle with a strangled sob.

A hand gripped my wrist just a second too late.

“Penelope!” Majordomo Selene hissed, twisting my hand until the pain forced me to drop my knife and let out a cry. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I refused to respond, to even look in her direction. It was a rhetorical question anyway. The majordomo was more than familiar with my tendency toward little acts of rebellion.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, waving a nearby maid over with her free hand. “Take this to the artisan’s guild and see if they can mend it. And keep it quiet.” The maid nodded and scurried away.

Selene scowled and started half-leading, half-pulling me back to my bedroom. “Do you think this is funny? Hm? All the extra work your outbursts make for us?”

I tried my best to keep up with her, remembering how sore my wrist ended up the last time I refused to move. But still I didn’t talk. I didn’t have any answers for her, really. What I’d done didn’t make any logical sense; I’d just felt the need to do something.

“Your mother will be very disappointed to hear about this.”

I sneered. “You’re not going to tell her. Even if you did, she wouldn’t care.”

“How rude!” We both knew I was right. Unable to argue the point, the majordomo focused on corralling nearby servants instead–by the time we arrived at our destination, there were half a dozen in tow.

She finally let go once we were inside my bedroom, a large space draped with sheer azure silk and assorted pillows. Normally, it was my place of solace; I’d curl up in a corner and pore over one of the books crowding my shelves or sip tea and look out over the courtyard. But on the occasions when Selene entered, it was anything but peaceful.

She looked me up and down. “Empty your pockets.”

I loosened the drawstring on my outer pocket and allowed some of the afternoon’s haul to tumble to the floor–a pen, some coins, an ivory comb I’d taken from a washroom. “Fine. There.”

Selene quirked an eyebrow. “All of them, you little thief. Don’t make me search you myself.”

Grudgingly, I began the process of dumping out the pockets hidden beneath my skirts–pausing after each only to meet the majordomo’s expectant stare once more. By the time I finished, there was a significant pile at my feet. Everything from spoons to soaps to loose jewelry was among it. Selene nodded, seemingly satisfied.

And then she turned to the servants, who’d waited patiently by the door up until that point. “Search the entire room. Thoroughly. Collect everything valuable and small enough to easily steal.”

The servants obeyed immediately, rummaging through and displacing my belongings. Tearing apart my refuge from the chaos.

“Stop it!” I demanded, provoking only brief hesitation from the servants before they continued their work. Selene crossed her arms as I rushed over to her, my eyes wide. “Make them stop this instant!”

Her voice was cool and even. “If chaos in the castle is what you want, Penelope, then it is what you will get. You’re merely reaping what you have sown.”

I watched in mute horror for several moments, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop the dismantling in progress. Books were pulled from shelves and left haphazardly on the floor; mementos and keepsakes tossed into a growing heap. When one of the servants, a young, skinny boy, found a brooch buried deep in a desk drawer, my despair gave way to desperation.

“Don’t you dare touch that!” I screamed, charging him and tackling him to the floor. Fear flashed across his face as I bit into his hand and wrenched the piece away from him. “That’s not yours!”

The poor boy ran out of the room, clutching his hand. I cupped the brooch protectively and scooted back into the corner of the room. It was relatively simple–small strands of tin and brass woven into the shape of a flower. Selene’s face softened for a moment once she saw it and realized what had happened.

But only for a moment.

“Let her have it,” she ordered. “And get back to searching.”

***

The castle ballroom looked like the decorator had made an initial effort to remain tasteful before finally giving up. Chandeliers made from hundreds of tiny glass teardrops? Complex, but subtle. Linens with more lace fringe than actual solid cloth? A bit ostentatious, but the craftsmanship really was stellar. To-scale silver lion statues ringing the room? Several steps too far. At least rolling my eyes at the tacky decor helped distract from the task at hand.

During the royal ball, I was to meet my wife-to-be. Rumors of our match had been ‘leaked’ to the court’s biggest gossips, and the two of us together in public would only fire up speculation further.

The whole affair made me miserable. Marrying some oafish murderer was bad enough; did the ‘courtship’ really have to be made into a spectacle? All it meant in practice was more restrictions on how I spent my time and more courtiers whispering under their breaths about how ‘they pitied the poor soul who had to marry that spoiled brat.’ I couldn’t even exact any meaningful revenge, as Selene had put me under constant watch ever since the Horace incident. Even now, surrounded by people as I was, a nearby attendant still kept a careful eye on me.

Having no real way to enjoy myself, I had to settle for not disguising my terrible mood in the slightest. I sat at a table in the corner of the room, resting my head on the palm of my hand and allowing my simple emerald dress to wrinkle and pool around me. Anyone who approached got a few single-word responses from me at best. Mostly I just stared into the one glass of wine allotted to me for the night and wallowed in self-pity to the sound of the orchestra.

“Looks like you’re having a great night.” Carmen approached, sitting down beside me. She wore a sympathetic smile along with the gold and white robes typical of clergy.

“Uh-huh.” I kept staring past my wine glass into space.

“Come on, Penelope. Cheer up. This won’t be so bad.”

“Oh?” I turned my head toward her. “Every single person I asked said the same things about Natalia: Quiet. Reserved. Polite. Keeps to herself. I can’t believe I’m being kidnapped by someone so boring.”

Carmen shrugged. “Well, that’s what mistresses are for.”

I smiled weakly at that. “Is that what you preach at the pulpit?”

“Exclusively.”

A little giggle slipped out of me despite my best efforts to brood further. “Maybe I’ll have to stop skipping your sermons.”

“I’ve also met her, by the way, and found her to be perfectly pleasant.”

I playfully sneered at her. “You like everyone.”

“You hate everyone.”

“I do not!”

“Oh?” Carmen grinned, then nodded to someone across the room. “Then prove it.” She got up and went over to greet a woman approaching our table and oh Goddess it was Natalia I could not believe the nerve of Carmen bringing–

“Penelope, this is Ser Natalia. Natalia, this is my sister Penelope.” Carmen returned with my suitress in tow.

Natalia was shorter than I expected, standing an inch or so below me. Her short, sandy-brown hair was in the process of growing out from a soldier’s cut, and her toned muscles were evident underneath her ruby tunic and gray tights. The ghost of a smile graced her otherwise serious, thoughtful face.

She gave a slight bow and kissed my hand. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Princess Penelope. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

Carmen caught my eye and mouthed ‘be nice’ with a stern expression on her face. “If you two will excuse me, I believe my attention is requested elsewhere.” She departed.

For a moment, I considered following Carmen’s request. Judging by Natalia’s clenched hands and subtly shifting feet, she was extremely nervous–perhaps I could cut the poor woman a break and be kind. But the thought of ‘playing my part’ and following proper protocol was so sickening to me that I quickly abandoned the idea.

“So,” I began, crossing my legs, “is this an act of martyrdom for you? Marrying the spoiled princess to save everyone else from her? Or are you just the unwitting fool they’ve picked as their sacrifice?”

Natalia frowned, clearly caught off guard. “I’m…not sure I understand.”

“Unwitting fool it is, then.” I gestured to the chair across from me. “If you want to sit, then sit.”

She did, watching me closely. Her almond-shaped brown eyes had a searching quality to them, one that made me feel slightly vulnerable. I pushed the feeling away and opted for more bravado instead. “Did they force you into this as well?”

She blinked a few times. “No. I suppose declining probably wasn’t an option, but I wanted to accept anyway.”

I pouted. My misery lacked company, it seemed. That figured. “Why?”

“Knowing Her Majesty trusts me and believes I would be good for her daughter…it’s an honor.” Natalia bowed her head sheepishly, a small blush forming on her freckled cheeks. “And there’s your beauty and grace, of course.”

“Spare me the flattery,” I snapped instinctively. My fingers gripped the hem of my dress and anxiously pulled at it for a few moments before I realized how I’d sounded. “Um. Sorry.”

The knight gave me another long, curious glance. “I’m sorry you were forced into this.”

“Whatever.” I felt as though I’d lost the rhythm of the conversation, and was searching through the sheet music trying to find where I could pick it back up. “It’s the way things are. Apologizing doesn’t change that.”

“I suppose not.”

A long silence opened up between us. Natalia contented herself with watching the spectacle around her, while I drained the rest of my (very little) wine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carmen’s disapproving face.

‘Talk to her,’ she mouthed. I discreetly stuck my tongue out at her, but acquiesced to her demand.

“Do you do anything besides soldiering?”

Natalia’s face lit up, seemingly pleased at the chance to converse further. “I train hunting dogs. Served as a ranger and game warden before my conscription.”

Looked like she wasn’t boring after all–just a weird, asocial hermit. Joy. Seeing the sparkle in her eyes as she described it, though, I didn’t have the heart to shut her down. “Do you have any dogs currently?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

I offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess above for that. “Did you enjoy doing it?”

Natalia gladly launched into an extended answer, gushing about pack bonds and tracking techniques and different wildlife she’d seen on her various campaigns. I mostly tuned her out, happy to let her carry the conversation while I just went ‘ah’ and ‘mm’ every once and a while. My attention was mostly drawn to smaller details: The way her otherwise rigid hands made excited gestures when she spoke about her passions. The way she looked at the ceiling when she was searching for the right word. The way her soft dimples contrasted with the sharp definition of her jaw and cheekbones. Cute in her own way, I supposed.

“…was a fantastic sight.” Natalia paused, then sat up straight as if suddenly remembering where she was. “Apologies for rambling, my Princess. I got carried away.”

I slouched back further in my chair, counterbalancing her formal posture. “I don’t care. Talk about whatever you like.”

“I won’t bore you any further.” A bright blush formed on Natalia’s cheeks. “Ah…what about you, my Princess? What do you enjoy doing?”

I opened my mouth to respond before realizing I wasn’t exactly sure what to say. There was the simple, dull answer–recounting the many hours I’d been forced to waste learning proper conduct and etiquette. ‘Enjoy’ certainly didn’t apply there, though. There was also the scandalous answer–talking about my thieving and breaking things and all the etiquette teachers I’d driven to quitting over the years. But answering with that felt…cheap. Like I was trying too hard to shock her.

When I realized I’d been sitting in silence with my mouth open for almost a minute, I settled for blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “I like reading. Stories, mostly. And histories, but those are kind of like stories I suppose. It’s in the word, after all.”

Natalia smiled. Oh Goddess, she probably thought I was pathetic after that horrible mess of a response. It’s a wonder she didn’t laugh at me outright.

Not that I cared about how she saw me, of course.

“…I also steal things,” I added hastily a moment later. “And I can pick locks and stay out of sight really well. Majordomo Selene once told me I was a demon in the form of a girl because I mixed mashed garlic into her soaps.”

There. Best to give the knight a portrait of who I really was; teach her early on to watch herself.

Natalia’s eyebrows raised. She blinked. “…Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

We lapsed into silence again. I ran my finger along the rim of my wineglass and stared at Natalia, who alternated between giving me a confused look and glancing around the room. Finally, when the orchestra shifted to a slower piece and a number of additional couples began to dance, my wife-to-be took a deep breath and spoke.

“Ah…would you care to dance with me?”

“No,” I stated firmly. My dignity and mood alike would not suffer it.

“Oh.” Natalia squirmed in her seat for a moment, biting her lip. “I…in the interest of total honesty: Princess Janice said we should dance at some point tonight. For the crowd’s sake. I don’t want to force you to do anything, obviously, but…she was quite insistent.”

And just like that, any scraps of goodwill Natalia had built up were shattered. Of course Janice was puppeting her. If the knight’s attempt at courtship was genuine I could have at least come to respect her, but following orders like a military automaton? Contemptible.

“I understand.” I plastered a sickly sweet smile across my face. “Janice wants us to make a scene, right? I’m happy to do that.”

Natalia exhaled in relief. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to–”

I picked up my empty wine glass and tossed it onto the floor.

Mary–the handler Selene had assigned to me–swooped in faster than I believed possible and caught the falling crystal. Her other hand clamped down on my shoulder tightly.

“Behave,” Mary whispered in my ear, setting the glass back down in front of me. “Or I’ll have to notify Selene.”

“Fine. Whatever. Go away,” I mumbled. My handler took a half-step back, still very much on her guard. I turned back to Natalia, whose mouth was still wide open.

“One dance. Don’t step on my feet.”

I stood abruptly and held out my hand to Natalia, who scrambled up and took it a moment later.

She walked me onto the dance floor (only because I allowed her to) and began to lead (only because I allowed her to), making sure to receive a nod from me before placing her hand on my lower back. I rolled my eyes.

Around us, our dance was having its intended effect–the glances we’d received while seated had turned into stares and whispers. The brat princess dancing at a royal ball? With a military woman, no less? I could practically hear the rumors spreading already like some sort of dull plague. Despite my attempts to ignore how much of a spectacle we had become, I still noticed a few people giving us their attention: Carmen gave me a thumbs-up from across the room, while Janice offered a curt nod when our eyes met.

For the most part, though, I kept my gaze squarely on Natalia. My plan was simple: make her uncomfortable enough to start making mistakes, then stop dancing the moment she stepped on my foot. I certainly wasn’t going to err, not with how every step of every common dance had been drilled into my brain by tutors over the years.

The plan didn’t work. Natalia remained unphased, moving the pair of us about with practiced if not incredibly graceful steps. Military discipline applied to dance as well, apparently. With her giving me no good excuse to scowl, my expression eventually softened. What was once an intimidation tactic became staring deeply into the eyes of the woman dancing with me–I wasn’t going to be the one to look away first, after all.

I noticed Natalia’s eyes had tiny gold and green flecks in them that occasionally caught the light and gave the illusion of sparkling. And while she remained focused entirely on me, her pupils still darted around consistently, going from one side of my face to the other in search of fresh perspectives. It reminded me of a scout surveying a landscape, or of a guard scanning a street for movement.

With only a few bars left in the song, Natalia finally looked away and gave me the petty little victory I’d hoped for. But my satisfaction was short-lived once I realized why she’d done it.

She leaned forward and murmured “Sorry!” in my ear.

“For wha–”

And then she pushed me into a dip at the climax of the song, holding me tight and bending over at the waist so our faces stayed close together. When we came back up, the guests around us clapped and cheered. I blushed furiously, too stunned to do anything more than stammer.

“You…I…wh…”

Natalia shrugged apologetically. The tiny hint of a smile had returned to her face. “For that.”