"Such a harsh man you are," Artemisia teased, her voice laced with mock-disdain. "Leaving me covered in bruises and marks."
Mardonius couldn't help but chuckle softly, his eyes roaming over her battered form with a mixture of satisfaction and admiration. "My apologies, Your Majesty," he said, his voice filled with false contrition. "I guess my enthusiasm got the better of me."
He offered her a sheepish grin, which quickly turned into a lewd grin. "But I assure you, it wasn't entirely unpleasant, was it?"
Artemisia blushed deeply, her cheeks turning a bright crimson. "Don't flatter yourself, General," she retorted, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably. "Now, do you think you'll be able to function properly tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes traveling downwards, taking in the evidence of their passionate encounter on his body.
"Oh, I'll manage somehow," he assured her, winking playfully. "After all, it's not every day I get to spend the night with the queen of Caria."
Artemisia's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression turning thoughtful. "And what would you say if I told you I haven't shared a bed with my husband yet?" she asked, her voice dripping with false innocence.
Mardonius raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on her lips for a moment too long before returning to meet hers. "Then perhaps I should rectify that situation," he growled, striding towards her. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head, pinning them against the bed.
"Why did you marry him?" he demanded, his breath hot against her neck. "Did you truly love him?"
"Of course not," she admitted reluctantly. "A woman cannot rule a nation alone. She needs a regent, according to the law. Plus, marrying a nobleman like him ensures our lineage remains pure."
Mardonius released her wrists, stepping back but keeping her trapped between his body and the wall. "So, you married him simply for political reasons?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "And what about me? Did you find me... appealing?"
Artemisia's heart hammered in her chest, her mind reeling with the implications of his words. "Of course not," she protested weakly. "It wasn't supposed to... turn out like this."
"Or perhaps it was," Mardonius murmured, his hands trailing down her body, tracing slow, sensual lines over her bare skin. "You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"
Her breath hitched as he reached her wet, sensitive folds, his fingers teasing her entrance. "Y-You know I did," she finally admitted, her voice cracking slightly. "But that doesn't change anything."
"Well, Your Majesty," Mardonius began, choosing his words carefully. "In my humble opinion, you should bear a child with your husband, a son preferably, and once he is born, you can quietly dispose of your husband and declare yourself regent on behalf of your son until he comes of age. Then, the throne will be yours, free and clear."
Artemisia smiled, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's exactly what I had planned," she admitted, her voice low and seductive. "Now, what about King Xerxes? What will he do now that I have refused his... request to join his battle?"
Mardonius chuckled darkly, his fingers continuing to tease her sensitive folds. "I suppose he will attack the Spartans by land," ," he said, his voice husky with desire.
"I see, in that case," she purred, her breath hot against his ear, "I promise to respond to his Majesty's call the next time he'll need me."
Their lips crashed together, their tongues entwining in a passionate kiss, their bodies pressing against each other, their breaths mingling in a hot, heavy rhythm. Mardonius' hand slid between their bodies, cupping her breast, his fingers teasing her hardened nipple. Artemisia arched her back, her moans turning into low, needy sounds as he increased the pressure, his thumb circling her sensitive bud.
Their passion intensified, their bodies moving in sync, their moans muffled by their shared kiss. Despite their initial reluctance, they couldn't resist each other, their needs becoming too overwhelming.
Mardonius pulled away, his breathing heavy, his chest heaving. "I must return to Persia now," he panted, his eyes filled with regret. "My men will await my orders."
Artemisia's heart ached at the thought of him leaving, but she forced herself to nod. "Of course, General," she managed to croak out, her voice hoarse from their passionate encounter. "May fortune favor you in your journey."
He leaned down, his mouth brushing against hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue probing her mouth, seeking entrance. His hands traced down her body, stopping just short of her wet entrance. "Until we meet again, Your Majesty," he whispered, his voice deep and husky with desire.
With a final, lingering look, he turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a trail of their combined essences on the sheets and the floor. Artemisia lay there, her body still trembling from their intense lovemaking, her mind racing with thoughts of their forbidden liaison.
Artemisia spent the rest of the day attending to various state affairs, her mind constantly drifting back to their passionate encounter with Mardonius. When night finally fell, she returned to her chambers, exhausted beyond words.
As she undressed, she couldn't help but wince at the aches and bruises that covered her body, testament to their wild encounter. She climbed into bed, hoping for some much-needed rest. But as she closed her eyes, her mind drifted back to him—his strong hands, his skilled mouth, his commanding presence.
Before she could fully succumb to the exhaustion, there was a soft knock on her chamber door. Groaning softly, she called out, "Enter."
Her husband entered the room, his eyes widening in shock at the sight of her bruised and battered body. "What happened to you?" he demanded, his voice laced with jealousy and anger. "Who did this to you?"
"It's none of your business," she snapped, rolling over to face away from him. "Now, leave me alone."
"Don't you dare!" he roared, storming over to her and grabbing her by the arm, pulling her roughly. "I saw the marks on your body—the bite marks, the scratches! You've been with that man!"
"Let me go!" she yelled, struggling futilely against his hold. "Do you truly think you can stop me? You're a mere puppet king, a tool used to maintain appearances! I am the Queen of Caria, and I will sleep with whoever I want!"
Her words echoed in the quiet chamber, reverberating off the walls like a death knell for their marriage. The tension between them reached its peak, and suddenly, she felt his grip loosen slightly. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Now, release me," she commanded coldly.
He reluctantly let go, his face a mix of rage and fear. "You'll regret this, Artemisia!" he vowed, storming out of the room.
Alone once more, she couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for the consequences of her actions to catch up to her.