Chapter 208 Taking Liberties With Royal Beauties

Alaric, his self-proclaimed heroic act complete, reached out and firmly grasped both Queen Margaret and Royal Consort Josephine by their exposed midriffs. The rough tear in their elegant gowns had left a significant portion of their slender waists bare, and Alaric’s fingers deliberately pressed against their soft skin, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

‘Soft,’ Alaric thought, a flicker of satisfaction in his ruby eyes. ‘And they’re already relying on me.’

Queen Margaret felt a jolt of surprise at Alaric’s touch, but she suppressed a gasp. Her mind was racing. This young man, Alaric Steele, had just saved them from a terrifying ordeal. She recognized him instantly, his reputation preceding him. She wanted to reveal their identities, to thank him properly, but a sudden thought held her back.

‘Perhaps it is best to observe him for now,’ she thought, glancing at Josephine, subtly gesturing with her eyes for the Royal Consort to remain silent. ‘We can gauge his character and reward him handsomely once we are safely back at the palace. For now, let us see where this leads.’

Josephine, though equally startled by Alaric’s touch, understood the Queen’s unspoken message. She remained silent, her gaze fixed on Alaric, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension in her eyes.

“Come, my ladies,” Alaric said, his voice now gentle and reassuring. “Let’s get you somewhere safe and warm.” He guided them towards the nearby road, where a small, unassuming tavern stood.

As Alaric entered the dimly lit tavern, flanked by the two disheveled but undeniably beautiful women, a hush fell over the room. The rough-looking men, their faces weathered and their eyes hardened by life, stopped their drinking and gambling, their gazes drawn to the two voluptuous figures in their tattered clothing. Queen Margaret’s ample cleavage and Josephine’s generous curves were now more exposed than they would have ever allowed in public.

The sight of these rough men, their stares filled with a similar lustful intent to that of the bandits, instantly triggered a wave of terror in Queen Margaret and Josephine. Their recent ordeal flashed before their eyes, and instinctively, they both moved closer to Alaric, clutching his arms as though he were their only anchor in a sea of danger. Their plump, sexy bodies pressed against his arms, their fear overriding any sense of decorum. Alaric subtly enjoyed the feeling of their voluptuous forms against him, a silent thrill coursing through him.

“Easy now, my ladies,” Alaric said softly, patting their hands reassuringly. “You’re safe with me.” He led them to a secluded table in a corner and ordered some food and drinks.

As they ate, Alaric, adopting a concerned tone, asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what were two such elegant ladies doing alone in that forest?”

Queen Margaret and Josephine exchanged puzzled glances. They genuinely had no recollection of how they had ended up in those ruins. One moment, they were in their chambers in the Sunken Pearl Palace, and the next… they were waking up in the forest with bandits closing in.

‘We were… abducted?’ Queen Margaret thought, a shiver running down her spine. ‘But by whom? And why?’

Josephine felt a similar sense of confusion and unease. ‘Someone must have taken us there. But who could have done such a thing? And why leave us in such a vulnerable position?’

“We… we don’t quite remember, Master Steele,” Queen Margaret said hesitantly. “One moment, we were… elsewhere, and the next, we were waking up in those ruins.”

“It’s all a bit of a blur,” Josephine added, her brow furrowed in confusion. “We suspect… perhaps we were attacked and… and left there?”

Alaric nodded sympathetically, though inwardly he was pleased with their lack of memory. It made his task much easier. “That sounds like a terrible ordeal. You were fortunate that I happened to be nearby.”

He didn’t press them further about their lost memories. Instead, he asked, “Where were you both headed before… this unfortunate incident? Perhaps I can assist you in reaching your destination?”

Without hesitation, both women replied, their voices filled with a longing for the familiar comforts of their home. “We wish to go to the Capital,” Queen Margaret said.

“Yes, back to Eryndal,” Josephine echoed.

Alaric frowned slightly, feigning concern. “The Capital, you say?” He paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “That might be… somewhat inconvenient at the moment.”

Queen Margaret and Josephine looked at him, their expressions filled with worry. “Inconvenient? Why?” Queen Margaret asked.

“Well,” Alaric began, adopting a serious tone, “I recently traveled to Eryndal and brought my fiancée, Princess Griselda, back to my family’s territory. The roads… they are not entirely safe. There are still scattered groups of demons roaming the countryside, preying on travelers.” He shook his head grimly. “Even flying directly might be risky.”

He continued, elaborating on the dangers. “The Radiant God’s forces are also moving through the land, and while they claim to be helping, their presence can sometimes attract unwanted attention. It might not be prudent to head directly to the Capital just yet. Perhaps we should consider taking a more… circuitous route, passing through some of the larger towns and cities along the way.”

Queen Margaret and Josephine were visibly shocked by this news. The thought of demons and the potentially unpredictable Radiant God’s forces made them hesitant to travel alone. They looked at Alaric, their savior, with newfound dependence.

“If… if you think that’s best, Master Steele,” Queen Margaret said, her voice uncertain.

“We trust your judgment,” Josephine added, her gaze fixed on Alaric.

“Very well,” Alaric said, offering them a reassuring smile. “For tonight, we can rest at the inn attached to this tavern. Tomorrow, we can discuss our next steps.”

Later that evening, as they prepared to retire for the night, Alaric suggested booking two separate rooms at the small inn. But Queen Margaret and Josephine, still deeply shaken by their experience and unnerved by the stares of the men in the tavern and the lobby of the inn, pleaded with Alaric to stay in the same room as them.

“Please, Master Steele,” Queen Margaret said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes filled with fear. “We… we don’t feel safe alone.”

“Yes,” Josephine added, clutching Alaric’s arm tightly. “Knowing you are nearby would… would ease our fears.”

Alaric, feigning a moment of hesitation, eventually relented. “Very well, my ladies. If it will make you feel more comfortable.” He secured a large room with a single, spacious bed.

Once inside the room, Alaric casually made his way to the bed, settling down comfortably. “Well, it seems this bed is large enough for all three of us,” he remarked, offering them a seemingly innocent smile.

Queen Margaret and Josephine both blushed furiously at the implication, their eyes meeting for a brief, flustered moment. Despite their royal status and their initial reservations, the events of the day had left them feeling vulnerable and strangely drawn to their powerful protector.

They hesitantly sat down on the edge of the bed, one on either side of Alaric, the warmth of his presence a comforting reassurance in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The large bed in the inn room offered a surprising amount of space, yet with three adults occupying it, a certain intimacy was unavoidable. Alaric lay in the center, Queen Margaret on his right and Royal Consort Josephine on his left. The single oil lamp on the bedside table had been extinguished, plunging the room into a comfortable darkness.

An hour had passed since they had all settled into the bed. Alaric had feigned sleep after a few minutes, letting out soft, even breaths. He kept his senses subtly alert, however, keenly aware of the two women beside him.

‘Are they asleep yet?’ Alaric wondered, his eyes closed.

He could feel their presence, the warmth radiating from their bodies. He could also hear their breathing. While he had feigned a steady rhythm, theirs remained uneven, a subtle indication of their continued wakefulness. Their breaths were shallow and occasionally hitched, betraying their lingering nervousness and perhaps a touch of awkwardness at their shared sleeping arrangement.

‘Not quite,’ Alaric thought, a sly smile playing on his lips in the darkness. ‘Perfect.’

He decided it was time to initiate the next phase of his plan. Still pretending to be sound asleep, Alaric slowly and deliberately extended his arms. His right arm snaked around Queen Margaret’s waist, his hand settling gently on the curve of her hip. His left arm followed suit, wrapping around Josephine’s equally voluptuous form, his fingers brushing against her side.

He pulled them closer, nestling them against his body as if seeking comfort in his sleep. Queen Margaret’s soft curves pressed against his side, and he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his arm. Josephine, on his other side, offered a similar sensation, her plump figure molding against him.

Neither woman dared to make a sound. They both went rigid for a moment, their breathing momentarily ceasing as they registered Alaric’s unexpected embrace. Their minds raced, trying to decipher his intentions. Was he truly asleep? Or was this a deliberate act?

‘He’s… he’s hugging me,’ Queen Margaret thought, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. ‘Is he truly unaware? Or is this some sort of… advance?’ The darkness hid her blush, but her cheeks burned with a mixture of surprise and a strange sort of… anticipation?

Josephine felt a similar turmoil. ‘His arm… it’s around my waist. He’s holding me close. Is he… dreaming? Or is he… trying something?’ A nervous flutter ran through her, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Alaric continued to feign sleep, his breathing remaining steady and even. He subtly shifted his position, his arm around Queen Margaret tightening slightly, his hand now resting more firmly on her hip, his fingers gently pressing into the soft flesh. On his other side, he made a similar adjustment, his arm around Josephine drawing her closer, his hand now resting just below her breast.

The two women remained silent, their bodies tense. They didn’t dare to speak, fearing that they would wake Alaric and potentially cause an incredibly embarrassing situation. The darkness amplified their senses, making every subtle movement, every soft breath, seem magnified.

Queen Margaret’s thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and a growing sense of… something she couldn’t quite name. ‘He feels… strong,’ she thought, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. ‘And his touch… it’s… firm.’ She tried to subtly pull away, just a fraction, but Alaric’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly, holding her in place.

Josephine’s reaction was similar. ‘He’s so close,’ she thought, feeling the warmth of his breath near her hair. ‘His hand… it’s so near…’ A shiver ran down her spine, a sensation that was both unsettling and strangely… exciting? She too considered trying to move, but the fear of waking him and the potential awkwardness of the situation kept her frozen.

Alaric, still feigning sleep, subtly began to move his hands. The hand on Queen Margaret’s hip gently traced the curve of her waist, his fingers lightly brushing against the underside of her breast. On Josephine’s side, his hand slowly crept upwards, his fingertips grazing the soft fabric of her nightgown, inching closer to her breast.

Queen Margaret’s breath hitched. ‘He’s… he’s touching me,’ she thought, her heart now pounding even harder. ‘He must be asleep… surely. But his touch… it feels so deliberate.’ A strange warmth spread through her, a sensation she hadn’t felt in years.

Josephine’s body tensed even further. ‘His hand… it’s almost there,’ she thought, her senses heightened. ‘If he moves it just a little bit more…’ A strange anticipation filled her, a feeling that was both forbidden and intensely curious.

Alaric continued his feigned slumber, his hands now resting directly on their breasts, gently cupping their soft curves. He subtly began to knead and caress them, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were truly asleep and acting out a dream.

Queen Margaret gasped softly, a sound that was barely audible in the darkness. Her nipples hardened under his touch, a sensation that sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through her. She bit her lip, suppressing a moan.

Josephine’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her body was trembling now, a mixture of nervousness and a growing arousal. She wanted to pull away, to stop him, but a strange inertia held her in place, a compelling curiosity overriding her initial shock.

Alaric continued his pretense, enjoying the feel of their voluptuous bodies under his hands. He gently squeezed and caressed their breasts, his thumb lightly brushing against their nipples. He could feel their reactions, the subtle shifts in their breathing, the slight tremors that ran through their bodies.

‘They’re definitely awake,’ Alaric thought, a triumphant smile in his mind. ‘And they’re enjoying this more than they’re letting on.’

He continued his feigned intimacy for a while longer, exploring their curves and enjoying their silent reactions, before slowly and deliberately removing his arms, as if his “dream” had come to an end. He then resumed his steady, even breathing, continuing to feign a deep slumber.

Queen Margaret and Josephine lay there in the darkness, their bodies still tingling from his touch, their minds racing with a mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and a strange, undeniable arousal. Neither of them spoke a word, the darkness concealing their flushed faces and their turbulent emotions.

The next morning, Alaric stretched languidly in the large bed, a contented smile gracing his lips.

‘Last night was certainly… interesting,’ he thought, a flicker of amusement in his ruby eyes. ‘They’re already more receptive than I anticipated.’

He rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping Queen Margaret and Royal Consort Josephine, and headed to the small washroom in the corner of the inn room. After a refreshing bath, he emerged, feeling invigorated and ready for the day ahead.

By the time he returned to the main room, he found the two royal women stirring. He had already instructed a servant to bring up some elegant, yet form-fitting, women’s clothing, and these were now laid out on a nearby table.

Queen Margaret and Josephine, looking slightly disheveled but still undeniably beautiful, took turns bathing and donning their new attire. The dresses, though elegant, were indeed a size smaller than their usual wear, clinging to their voluptuous figures in a way that accentuated every curve and swell. Alaric watched them, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

‘Appetizing,’ he thought, his gaze lingering on their ample busts and the way the fabric stretched across their hips.

Alaric himself looked as dashing as ever in his own freshly cleaned clothes. But there was something more about him this morning, an air of quiet confidence and authority that seemed to radiate from him. Both Queen Margaret and Josephine couldn’t help but notice it. There was a kingly aura about him, a presence that even surpassed that of King Thaleon.

‘He carries himself with such authority,’ Queen Margaret thought, a strange feeling stirring within her.

‘There’s something… different about him this morning,’ Josephine mused, her gaze lingering on Alaric.

After a light breakfast at the inn, the trio prepared to leave. Alaric decided that flying would be the quickest way to travel between cities, and with a gentle smile, he offered to carry both women.

“If you’ll allow me, my ladies,” Alaric said, extending his hands, “flying will be much faster and safer than traveling by road.”

Queen Margaret and Josephine exchanged nervous glances but ultimately nodded their agreement. Alaric carefully took hold of their waists, one in each arm, and with a powerful surge of magic, they ascended into the sky.

As they soared through the air, Alaric “accidentally” let his hands slip slightly, his fingers brushing against the sides of their breasts. Both women stiffened momentarily, a flush rising on their cheeks.

‘Oops,’ Alaric thought, a smirk hidden on his face. ‘Butterfingers.’

They didn’t dare to protest, however. There was something about Alaric’s charismatic yet undeniably powerful presence, that kingly aura they had both sensed, that made them hesitant to voice any complaints. It almost felt… natural to be held by him in this manner.

As the journey progressed, these “accidental” touches became more frequent and more deliberate. Alaric’s hands would linger a moment longer, his fingers occasionally kneading their soft flesh. The two women grew increasingly embarrassed, but their protests remained unspoken.

They were even starting to become accustomed to the shared room at night, sleeping on either side of him. And when, under the guise of sleep, Alaric’s hands would again find their way to their bodies, they found themselves less resistant.

Alaric grew bolder with each passing hour. His hands now slipped more freely beneath their robes, his fingers exploring the curves of their breasts, gently squeezing and caressing them. He would even reach around and cup their rounded buttocks, enjoying the feel of their plumpness in his hands.

Queen Margaret remained silent, her royal pride perhaps preventing her from acknowledging, even to herself, the sensations that Alaric’s touch was evoking. If the Queen wasn’t saying anything, then how could Josephine, a mere Royal Consort with a lower status, voice any objection?

In fact, Josephine found herself increasingly enjoying Alaric’s attentions. The fear and vulnerability she had experienced with the bandits had created a strange sort of dependence on him, and his touch, though initially shocking, was now beginning to stir unfamiliar desires within her. Soft moans would occasionally escape her lips, barely audible whispers in the wind.

“Mmm… Master Steele…” Josephine would murmur softly, her body subtly shifting closer to his touch.

Alaric, meanwhile, was carefully choosing their path, deliberately leading them over vast stretches of forest where he knew powerful magical beasts still roamed. He would even subtly provoke a few of these creatures, unleashing a quick burst of magic in their direction, just enough to anger them and draw their attention.

The plan was to create a dangerous situation where he could once again play the role of their savior, further deepening his control and their reliance on him. These royal beauties had likely never experienced such thrilling, life-threatening situations before.

However, much to Alaric’s initial frustration, no beast dared to attack them directly while they were flying. His passive emanation of Grandmaster Mage power was apparently enough to deter most creatures.

But finally, as they were flying over a particularly dense and ancient forest, Alaric’s keen senses detected a powerful magical signature. It belonged to a Violet Flame Hawk, a magnificent bird beast of the Sixth Order, its power equivalent to that of a Grandmaster Mage or Grandmaster Martialist.

Queen Margaret and Josephine both recognized the creature, their faces paling with fear. They knew the reputation of Sixth Order beasts – creatures of immense power that usually required a coordinated effort by multiple skilled hunters to defeat.

“A… a Violet Flame Hawk!” Queen Margaret gasped, her voice filled with terror.

“It’s… it’s so big!” Josephine stammered, her grip tightening on Alaric’s waist. ‘A Sixth Order beast… we’re doomed! We’ll only be a burden to Master Steele.’

Alaric, however, felt a thrill of excitement. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. While he could easily dispatch the beast with a swift application of his magic, he had a much more dramatic plan in mind. He would engage the Violet Flame Hawk in a seemingly close and desperate battle, showcasing his power and valor, and further cementing his image as their heroic savior in the hearts of the two royal women.

‘Time for a little… performance,’ Alaric thought, a cunning glint in his ruby eyes.