The patter of bare feet on smooth, stone floors.

Giggles in the dark.

A rustle of cloth.

A kiss on the cheek - a moan as kisses travel.

The sounds of infatuation and excitement filled the air in the resplendent palace of the virgin King, recently crowned and newly married.

But not virgin for too much longer.

The wedding of Blaine Anderson, King beyond the Sea of White Sand, had all the makings of an epic love story – a noble King, his beautiful Queen, and a first night filled with passion and the blossoming fruit of love.

Ever since his thirteenth birthday, when boys of every status were proclaimed men, Blaine had had concubines made available to him, as was his right, but he never availed himself to them. He refused to lie where he did not love. As Prince and sole heir to the throne, that decision was seen by many as childish and immature, though none would ever give voice to such traitorous words. But it was still troubling. How could Blaine keep a clear mind to his duties with the poison of lust building up inside him, bringing him beneath its sway? Many felt that want of carnal pleasure would make him weak. But Blaine held strong, and over time, those with nagging minds saw him as that – strong. And since he had the strength of mind and purpose to remain unsullied, he came to be considered wise, trustworthy, and above all things, just - a perfect ruler.

He had the sex slaves of the palace sent away, compensated and re-distributed to areas in need of their services. He did not want their presence to offend any who may be propositioned to become his bride. His father might have seen that as a failure, not providing the kingdom with a successor should Blaine fail to find a match, but Blaine would not spread his seed out of obligation.

He wanted to make a gift of his virtue, to one he felt he could respect, trust, and love, and receive that same gift in return.

Several months after his twentieth birthday, Blaine believed that the Vizier had finally found such a person.

A princess of fierce wit and intelligence, crowned by a singular beauty – skin pale as the fair desert sand, hair a cascade of gold over slender but strong shoulders, and eyes that shone like emeralds, twin gems worth more than all the riches on Earth, above and below.

A rare and exotic treasure for Blaine to pledge himself to, to bequeath his loyalty…and his desire.

She would come only second in his life to his kingdom, and forever be true and precious in his heart.

Her name was Quinn.

Quinn, given to him as a gift from a far-off land. Quinn, whose name meant ‘counsel', in whom Blaine would always confide. Quinn, who would be his sustenance, the blood in his veins, the air that he breathed, whose well-being he'd put above his own.

Quinn, whom Blaine would defend and protect above all others.

Quinn, who would always have Blaine's devotion and affection.

She belonged to him the moment a dowry exchanged hands, but he courted her anyway. He gave her gifts and sang her songs. He filled her room with flowers, and with fragrant pots of rare oils and spices. He bought her fine clothes and jewels. He indulged her unquenchable thirst for reading, and filled a corner of her room from floor to ceiling with whatever books he could find. He put ego aside, and served her in a manner befitting a Queen.  

Quinn was receptive to his attentions, and took pride of place at his side, till it became unusual to see one without the other.

Their wedding, weeks later, was like none before it. Even the nuptials of Blaine's parents, the late King and Queen, were not as glorious. Ambassadors from other countries and affluent families from miles around came to congratulate the couple, whom most saw as divinely favored – two kindred souls finding one another from the distant reaches of the world. It was like a fairy tale, and the storytellers recited it over and over in the streets so that the people of the kingdom might revel along with their beloved King. Casks of the King's best Shiraz were opened, squares of wedding cake handed out, and everyone from businessman to beggar made merry.

Gifts of tremendous wealth were bestowed upon Blaine and Quinn, and a magnificent feast served in their honor. Performers of all disciplines filled the palace. Nearly every floor was bursting with musicians, acrobats, jugglers, sword swallowers, and fire breathers.

But Blaine saw none of it. Nothing that was brought before him tickled his fancy. A sitar player, one of the finest in the kingdom, paused before the throne to play for the royal couple, only to continue on his way with his song unfinished. Blaine had eyes only for his young bride, and she, it seemed, only for him.

It could be called fate, kismet, destiny, luck, but no matter. It did not need a name. No greater blessing shone down upon him, and in that moment when the two left the festivities early to consummate their marriage, Blaine couldn't imagine himself any more content.

It seemed like a dream, one he hoped to never wake from.

They could not wait until they were in the solitude of the King's chambers to touch and kiss and hold one another, but they had no fear of being seen. There was no one about, every person kept away from this part of the palace to ensure their privacy. Blaine's hands fumbled, pulling gently at delicate veils and casting them aside until he could look fully upon the face of his bride. She was grace and dignity, and he knew that she would fill his palace with lusty sons and fine daughters, but Quinn was so much more to him than that. She made him feel human; she made him feel equal and whole. As her kisses fell upon his lips, Blaine thanked God and those in his service that he could wed one so clever, so radiant, so exquisite – one whom he could talk to openly, one who made him laugh.

One whom he could grow to love.

He wasn't entirely certain that he wasn't completely in love already.

After tonight, they would be one, King and Queen together. They would be adored and praised more than any other rulers before them. They would be the shining example that love conquers everything, bears everything, means everything.

A King without love was like a day without sun, a night without the moon and stars.

It meant everything to Blaine.

Blaine led Quinn with a hand to the small of her back and kisses along her shoulders. He held her in his arms and laid her down gently on his bed, which he had prepared special, covering it from end to end with the softest pillows he could find. As he undressed her, revealing her inch by inch – her ample bosom, her flawless skin, her flat stomach - a modest blush colored her flesh, and Blaine prayed for courage. He prayed for fortitude. He prayed that he should make of himself a pleasing offering to his lady bride. He prayed that years of inexperience would not deprive his beloved of a magical first time in his arms.

Naked as she was before him, the pink of awareness on her skin darkened to an enticing scarlet, but she did not turn away, and Blaine smiled. She might have strength enough for both of them then. He could learn a thing or two from her bravery.

He took too long in his admiration of her, and her smile faded.

“What is it, my King?” she asked, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. “Why do you seem so…dismayed?”

Blaine swallowed, turning into her hand to kiss her palm. Her skin was soft against his lips, and warm – a warmth he longed to feel all over his body. He was not as prepared for this as he thought he should be, but he regretted not a single one of his decisions. He did what was right for him; he had nothing to apologize for. But he was still nervous, and in that nervousness, he felt afraid. She frowned, waiting patiently for an answer, but Blaine was hesitant to give it. It was not the habit of a King to express weakness to anyone, especially his wife. But if Blaine could not admit his fears to her, then whom should he admit them to?

“I…I've never done this before,” Blaine said with a shy laugh, gazing at the goddess that lay before him. “I…I don't want to mess this up.”

Quinn gave him an understanding smile, the light from the lanterns twinkling in her eyes like the sun on a new spring day. Her hand moved from Blaine's cheek to the collar of his tunic, tracing the weave of the fabric down his chest till her fingertips reached the hem.

“Well, my King,” she said softly, “then we shall learn together, yes?”

Blaine nodded, mesmerized by the way she could calm his fears so quickly. She tugged up on his garment and he obeyed, moving to take it off. Few had seen the King unclothed, none who mattered as far as he was concerned, but he'd never felt this vulnerable, this exposed. He worried what she would think of him, but that lasted only a second. Quinn's eyes went wide at the sight of him, filled with wonder, sweeping over his skin as if she couldn't look enough upon him. He reached for her and her breath quickened. Her body rose to meet his hand, pleading to be touched, but he pulled back.

“I don't know how this works,” he confessed. She gasped in surprise, then tittered lightly, the sound of her carefree, unsuppressed laughter flooding his body, making him feel carefree, too. “I mean…I know how it works, I just…am I going to…hurt you?”

Quinn raised her hand to his face and stroked his cheek with gentle fingertips.

“My mother told me that my body will accommodate yours,” Quinn said, voice trembling. “You just have to trust it. You have to trust me.” Quinn's other hand hovered where the proof of Blaine's need pushed against the front of his pants. “Do you trust me?” she asked in a whisper.

“I do,” Blaine said. “I do trust you.”

“Good,” she said, smiling encouragingly. “That's all you need.”

Blaine stole a glance down the length of her gorgeous body, a bit more confident but unsure where to start, but his Quinn, the other half of his heart and soul, seemed to know.

“Will you touch me, my King?” she begged, her dainty fingers wrapping around his wrist, her eyes locked boldly on his. He let her lead his hand to the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. He took over then, slipping his fingers inside her, massaging this sacred hollow of her body, which moistened at his touch. It felt sinful touching her there and watching her react. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Her hands grabbed at the pillows beneath her. Her moans filled the air around them, a distinctive music mixed with the sound of the celebration taking place levels below them and his heart beat pounding in his ears. But there could be no sin in this, nothing wrong.

Not about his beloved Quinn.

“Kiss me?” she whispered, their lips already a breath apart, not much more needed to bring them together than that one question. He let himself go when his lips pressed against hers, but it was her fervor that overwhelmed him. She chased his mouth, her tongue slipping between his lips, mirroring the movement of his fingers between her legs. Her mouth tasted sweet, like sugared dates and honey, along with the sip of wine she drank when they exchanged their vows. Blaine wasn't particularly fond of sweets, but he couldn't get enough of the flavors here, where only he would be able to sample them.

Quinn helped the King off with his pants, her hands shaking as they slid down over his ass and his legs, his desire for her springing free.

“Are you…?” he asked, not finishing the question lest he be vulgar. “Can I…?”

“Yes, my King,” she said, restless hands clawing lightly at his chest, at his shoulders, urging him to move. “Please.”

Blaine guided her legs open with careful hands, watching her breathing stop as he lined his sex up with hers. His body quaked as he entered his bride, the first brush of his engorged cock against her heat nearly doing him in. After that, there was no hesitation, on his part or hers. They were connected, body and mind. He kissed her, she touched him. He whispered her name, she opened up for him, wordlessly begging him to take her. And he did, accepting that which she offered and giving her everything he was, everything he had, telling her in unspoken words about the life he dreamt of sharing with her, his promise to always be faithful, that nothing in the world could tempt him to stray from the rapture that was her and him as husband and wife for the rest of their lives. His body surrendered to hers, filling her with life – life from within him. Ecstasy washed over them both, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he pictured the children that life would bring. The future of not only them, but of his kingdom.

Their claim to immortality.

Elsewhere in the palace, the night had continued on without them. They could hear it in the form of music and laughter wafting through the windows, but for Blaine, time had stopped, and he was glad. How much longer would their life be if every time they made love time paused and waited for them to catch up?

If that was the case, Blaine would be sure to worship his wife's body at least three times a day.

Weary but blissfully spent, and with joyful laughter simmering in his throat, Blaine looked at his Queen, hoping the experience was as remarkable for her as it had been for him. She gazed up at him, breathless, but she seemed to have no words for him, and his heart began to sink. In his doubts, he thought that perhaps she meant to spare his feelings by not giving him an opinion, but for the sake of securing her happiness, he needed to know.

“How was…how was that, my love?” he panted, brushing the hair from her face so he could better see her vibrant eyes.

Her lips parted and she shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, and he feared he had failed her.

“Perfect, my King.” She ran her fingers through his hair, then brought his forehead down to her lips and kissed his sweaty brow. “I couldn't have wished for anything better.”

Blaine sighed with relief and kissed his wife deeply, taking a last taste of her before they yielded to sleep. He took comfort from her words. His heart settled, finding an easy rhythm with hers that it could keep. He laid his head upon her breast, and with a touch of his cheek against her skin, he fell into a satisfied slumber.

***

Blaine felt a wisp of cool air dance across his skin. It fled quickly, and he became warm again, but that single chill kept him on the brink of waking, even when he thought he'd fallen swiftly back to sleep. Soon after, he felt the pillows around him move, felt a body draw up close to his and curl into his arms. He smiled sleepily and opened his eyes, expecting to see his wife wrapped in his embrace, her flaxen hair draped over his pillow, the silken strands tickling his nose, snuggling against him to evade the cold.

He snuffled and blinked, shooing the sleep from his brain, but he could tell before his vision cleared completely that it wasn't Quinn who roused him from sleep, but the striped tawny and white cat his mother had kept. Blaine had rescued her from entombment after his mother's passing. From that day forward, she seemed to prefer Blaine's chambers over his mother's old room.

“Mau,” he murmured, scratching the purring beast behind the ear. “Where has my beloved gone, hmm? Have you seen my Quinn? Do you know where she is?”

Mau meowed, turning her head toward the doorway as strange noises echoed down the corridor outside Blaine's room.