Mikhail burst into the empty room, shut the door behind him, and set his back to it. The Princess would likely wake soon, but it would only take him a few minutes.
He fumbled urgently with the buttons of his pants, loosening them, and then shoved his hand down the front of them.
He'd woken up almost painfully erect, and though he'd tried to wait it out, it only worsened with time.
She'd moved a lot during the night and was hopelessly tangled in her overly large night dress and bedcovers-- with one small, shapely and completely exposed leg tossed haphazardly over a pillow. The smell of his soap on her clean skin was maddening, and the way the early morning light seemed to highlight that bare leg made it still worse. When she sighed and gave a low moan in her sleep, he knew he'd reached the limit of his endurance.
Wrapping his hand around his own hard cock, he closed his eyes, and began to pump. He could see her in his mind clearly, her skin still wet from the bath, wearing those two ridiculously tiny pieces of fabric wrapped around her breasts and waist. Did she know that her undergarments were sheer and when wet, he could see everything through them?
"Mmmmm..." she cried, closing her eyes as she arched her back and ran her hands down her breasts and stomach, "Mmm...Mischa, it hurts." She was trembling beneath him, pushing her chest toward him as though begging him to take them in his mouth.
He stroked faster, breathing in short shallow gasps. Every muscle in his abdomen tensed as his release built.
The princess lay naked in his arms, her chin resting on his chest as she stared directly into his eyes, her fingers lazily tracing a slow line down his abdomen. Just before they reached his swollen manhood, she smiled that teasing, mischievous grin.
"Fuuuck," he groaned quietly, his shaft spasming in his grasp as he spurted a thick sticky load down the back of his hand.
He leaned heavily against the door and took a few more shaky breaths before opening his eyes.
"Pathetic," he growled at himself, and crossed the sparsely-furnished guest room in two large strides.
He snatched a pillow from the bed, ripped the cover off and quickly wiped his hands and genitals. Wadding it up, he glanced around the room before noticing an empty wardrobe. He tossed the pillowcase inside and shut the door.
Adjusting himself as he buttoned his pants, he paused and turned to the door to listen. He was relieved to hear nothing. The Princess still slept soundly in her room across the hall.
Perhaps now, he could sit across the breakfast table from her without spending every single moment imagining dragging her out of her chair and having her right there on the table.
The servants would be arriving soon, and the first task he would charge them with would be to procure less distracting clothing for the Princess. He could also delegate the duty of monitoring her to the ladies' maids and the manor guard. He might finally be able to sleep in his own bed for the first time in years! Certainly, the less he interacted with the girl, the better she would settle in.
Talia ignored Ilya's rude stare as she entered the dining hall. She knew that in Unaria, women wore layer after layer of heavy, concealing clothing, and that no Unarian woman would ever leave her bedroom and wander about a manor wearing an ill-fitting nightdress with unbound hair.
He could stare all he liked, she preferred the simple slip to their suffocating and heavy skirts.
"My apologies, Princess," Ilya said as he stood and bowed his head in greeting, "I am a poor substitute for a ladies' maid, for I should have prepared clothing before your arrival. A dressmaker will visit the Hall tomorrow, but we will send servants to town for something more suitable immediately!"
"No need. I'm quite comfortable," she snapped sitting down.
Prince Mikhail entered behind her and traded a quick look with his aide and shook his head "no". Ilya suppressed a grin. Apparently, the Prince was not at all comfortable with her attire.
"Your head maid arrived this morning," Ilya continued, "She's taking her instructions from our new head of staff downstairs at the moment, but she should come to greet you shortly.
Talia made no answer but frowned as she glanced at her empty plate. Ilya snapped his fingers impatiently at the maid standing against the wall, and she dashed from the room, returning quickly with several kitchen assistants who set down covered plates before the Princess and Prince Mikhail, along with dishes of butter, cream, fruit preserves, and trays of toasted biscuits and breads.
The maid lifted the domes to reveal plates piled high with fried eggs and greens, cinnamon baked apples, rashers of crispy bacon, and potatoes diced and fried with meat and onion.
The Princess wrinkled her nose and reached for a piece of dry brown toast. Prince Mikhail frowned at her reaction, which Ilya was quick to notice.
"Have you had bacon before, Princess?" Ilya asked quickly. "I'm sure a good deal of our food looks very strange to you, doesn't it?"
"It smells strange, and looks heavy and greasy, as though it would slide directly to the pit of my stomach and sit there all day," she frowned.
"It is much colder here, Princess. Heavy food will help you stay warm and full," Prince Mikhail growled.
"Hmm," she shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "I don't suppose you have something like rice porridge?"
Ilya glanced toward Mikhail but receiving no answer, shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Princess, we don't--"
"The Frem trade ship was spotted downriver from the capitol when we were there. It should have docked by now. Frem is a country with a climate similar to Vezda, you should be able to find like foods in the capitol's markets for at least a few weeks," Prince Mikhail interrupted.
"Ahh, well then, we shall dispatch a carriage right away. Is there anything else that you might enjoy eating that we can look for?" Ilya asked.
The Princess did not deign to answer. She reached for the butter and drew it across the table to her plate. Ilya flinched at her lack of manners.
"Oranges," Mikhail grumbled. "They should have oranges as well."
Princess Talia paused, and then turned slowly to fix Prince Mikhail with a disdainful glare. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she was interrupted by the arrival of a young woman in a long black gown.
"My Lords," the young woman greeted them, bowing deeply.
As she rose, Talia took in her appearance and had to stop her own mouth from falling open. The young lady was so alike in looks to herself that it was shocking! She had long brown hair shot through with streaks of red, wide blue eyes and a small, pointed and upturned nose. Of course, she was quite a bit taller, her eyes weren't the quite the right shade of blue, and truth be told, her nose turned up just a bit much which gave her face a different sort of air. She also appeared to be older by a few years.
"What is the meaning of..." the Princess began, but her voice trailed off as the young woman noticed her and gave a gasp of shock, her eyes filling with recognition.
The woman stumbled forward nervously and fell to her knees bowing with her face to the floor.
"My queen!" she cried. "My Queen Talia of noble House Eosin, ruler of glorious Vezda, this humble servant and citizen of Vezda greets her queen!"
Princess Talia scoffed and turned her attention back to her toast, buttering it with great concentration. The servant waited to be acknowledged with her face pressed against the floor.
"No citizen of Vezda prostrates themself before their ruler," Talia remarked after a long pause, taking a bite of her toast. "In Vezda, rulers are the servants of their people. Your greeting is a custom of Unaria."
"My queen, forgive me," the woman implored, sitting up on her knees immediately. "This servant never learned the customs of glorious Vezda. This servant was brought as a slave to Unaria as a child, after my mother died in the battle of Madrost. My mother served under Sir Brahl of House Firens, who served under Sir Aron, commander of the North Vezdan army,"
"Yes, I remember Sir Brahl. He was a good man. That would make you five or six when you were captured, and you're what-- 21 or 22 years old now?" Talia raised an eyebrow.
"This servant has 22 years, My queen," the girl bowed her head.
"Your name?" Talia frowned.
"Fioria, my queen," she answered quickly. "I've come to serve you."
"Hmph," Talia snorted reaching for another slice of toast. "I'm not a queen. I won't have you calling me that."
"Even though you surrendered your crown to the Empire, all Vezdans know that it was for the well-being of your people. You will always be our queen and--"
"You are very wrong, Fioria. I am not a 'queen' and never have been. My title is 'princess', and every Vezdan knows as much. No ruler can succeed the throne and claim the title until the previous King or Queen has been buried on the Holy Island, and appropriate ceremonies and prayers have been said over their remains. Queen Ora's body was never returned to our soil, hence even when I ruled Vezda, it was not with the title of Queen. It is an insult to my sister, whose soul does not know proper rest to call me queen. Do you understand?" Talia frowned. "Why are you still on your knees?"
The servant girl's face colored a deep red as she stumbled quickly to her feet.
"Forgive this servant, my qu-princess," she corrected herself. "This servant has long been a slave in the Empire, and though I love Vezda with all my heart, I am quite ignorant of the customs of my family and my ancestors."
"Hmmm... it's interesting how similar we are in appearance, isn't it, Prince Mikhail?" Talia remarked. "I wonder if you thought to put me at ease by having someone who claims to be a Vezdan following me around all day and night."
When Prince Mikhail didn't anwser, Talia shrugged and smiled to herself.
"And just what is it that I'm expected to do all day?" she asked.
"Bludston Manor had an extensive library," Ilya began.
"I don't read much," Talia frowned.
"There is a music room where you can--"
"Play an instrument? I never learned any," she interrupted.
"Well, there is... uhhh... I suppose painting or embroidering are--" Ilya stumbled.
"Painting? Embroidering? Is that what women in the Empire really do day in and day out? No wonder they're not allowed to leave their homes, I don't imagine if you let them out, they'd come back," she chuckled.
"What would the Princess like to do?" Prince Mikhail growled.
"Train," Talia answered simply. "It's been weeks since I've trained. I'm afraid my skills will rust without use. You do have a training field here, don't you?"
"Princess, in Unaria women don't..." Ilya paused, attempting to find a polite way to explain why such an activity would be unsuitable.
"Which weapons do you train with?" Prince Mikhail asked.
"The hand scythes, mostly, but I have some proficiency with the short sword, and the double-bladed staff," she answered.
"You prefer close combat weapons... hand scythes are not a weapon we train with in the empire. They're too impractical for use in the army, and here the double-bladed staff is practiced as an artform-- its purpose is generally ceremonial. However, the princess may consider the daggers if she already has some proficiency with hand scythes," the Prince muttered.
Talia nodded thoughtfully. "I am not opposed to that."
"When you have suitable clothing for-"
"Surely you can find me an appropriately-sized tunic and some leggings somewhere in this house?" she pushed.
Prince Mikhail furrowed his brow. "I suppose we might," he agreed.
"Do you think it wise to allow her the use of weapons?" Ilya frowned, staring hard at Prince Mikhail.
"With the right supervision," the Prince muttered darkly.
Talia grinned wickedly at Ilya and reached for a piece of bacon. She took a bite and chewed with great concentration.
"Salty," she said and smiled again.