When The Heart Falls

How To Welcome A King

The wooden ladder creaked under her step. Agatha huffed, clutching her black furbelows in her fists. Her gown wasn't exactly practical; flowing over the ladder steps in a night-black plunge. As she climbed higher, Agatha wondered how many more crawls it would take before she'd come pummeling down. Over her, ornate book corners gleamed in perfect rows. And somewhere between gazing, Agatha lost her breath. The royal library was a fascinating citadel, teeming with magnificent storybooks, gilded ledgers and leather-bound scrolls, all fitted into brocaded oak shelves. 

A creak sounded. Suddenly Agatha was alert, scanning the shelves for the perfect leisure-time novel. It would be hard , Agatha thought, searching the aisle. Indeed, there were many books to choose from. And yet the young queen had miraculously always found a viratable past-time. And today would be no different. Agatha pursed her lips, determined.

She stretched her arm to a small stack of books, gaudy, rough, and tearing at the spine; a stark division from the polished and orderly condition of all the other books—

Something smooth, sturdy and warm slithered up her leg. Something human. Something thinking. Something like an arm. Agatha gasped, toppling from her ladder. She screwed her eyes shut, bracing for impact when strong, burly arms pulled her to a sinewy, strapping chest. Her gasp turned into a scream as she padded her ever-flowing gown, searching for her knife.

 But it was as though this intruder knew her; Agatha stared in horror when he peeled the dagger from her pocket, brandishing its steel under the warm glow of the palace. Then she heard his laugh. Saw his golden skin flashing from his flapping vest, lazily buttoned shirt. His pearly blue eyes smiled at her, twinkling as though with a secret of their own. "Tedros!" She laughed, almost incredulously, glad to see him after the days they'd spent divorced by distance, fractured by duty. She put her hand to his cheek, smiling.

Suddenly her smile fell, and Agatha delivered a hard smack to his face. "What is wrong with you?" She berated, pulling away from him. Tedros drew her in. He flattened her palm against him. His pink lips hovered over hers. "That's one way to greet your king," his breath was minty and soft. Agatha shuddered beneath him. 

His twinkling eyes shone brighter with intention. "You're back early," somehow, beneath him, Agatha grew quieter, her voice barely a whisper. Tedros toyed with her dagger, leaning against her until she backed into the wall. He lifted her chin with the golden hilt of the dagger.

She was radiant like this; glowing with the raging pace of her heart. Her cheeks burned fiery red, her eyes gazing wide with wonder. Tedros inspected the dagger. His cheeks dimpled with a smirk. "This was the one I gave you," Agatha felt his heart beneath her palm, raging too. 

"You scared me," she defended, reaching for her knife. Tedros raised it from her reach. His gaze hardened like the shimmering steel of a dagger. Agatha swallowed hard. "You need help," Agatha huffed, her hair falling over her eyes.

Tedros pushed her ebony strands back, as if to say he needed her to see him, to watch him do this . He put his tan hand over the pale one over his chest,and slid it down. Down past the embroidered buttons of his vest. Down past the smooth fabric of his shirt. Down to the hard bulge between his muscular thighs. Agatha felt herself grow hotter by the second. 

She looked back at Tedros and saw his cheeks light up with color, with hunger, with want . "Love," he whispered gently down her neck, her white chest. "I do need help," Tedros peppered kisses up her neck. " Your help,"