With a whoosh, the tent collapsed, as four men in costume retreated quickly, leaving four gypsies in the middle, in full dancing garb- Mille, Yana, Emilee, and Luba.
The band struck up their song, Yana’s favorite, and the King and many others stood up in surprise. They began to move slowly, only the slow jingle of tambourines starting them off, accompanied by castanets. Bastion was stunned. It was the dance they did for him at the campfire!
Yana and Mille moved seductively, as Emilee and Luba backed them up in succinct perfection. They shook their hips to the beat, as the deeper drums joined in.
Their movements picked up, as they shimmied and stepped, gliding their hips to the rhythm. Yana and Mille played off each other, dancing as partners, and Emilee and Luba began to clap, drawing the crowd in to stand and clap with them.
They moved with a beauty and precision that left Bastion speechless, and every soul in the room was rapt, trying to take in every image, every step, every shake. The gypsy band built up to a resounding cadence, matching the girls stride for stride. Yana and Mille romanced the crowd, enticing every man and woman among them to fall in love.
Bastion focused on Yana, finding her irresistible. Her torso moved with strength and grace, her hands caressed the air with Mille, as though they were weaving a story, a tale of gypsy magic, as the song seemed to speak without words, along with them.
The four of them joined each other, moving in and out between each other seamlessly. The smiles on their faces and the look in their eyes showed ecstasy and skill, as they seduced the Great Hall entirely. They pulled away from each other, and into each other, just as the song Mille sang had suggested.
Finally, the song concluded, each of them pressing their backs in together, so that they all faced outward, Yana facing the King directly, and the last note rang out. Yana winked at Bastion, exulting in their gypsy dance. The hall exploded with applause and cheer, like Yana had never known. Bastion felt a bit sheepish- he had been frustrated with her, thinking she had left the table for a poor reason. Instead, she was glorious, and shined so brightly among her friends, and among the citizens, that she seemed to glow. Bastion was fully enamoured of her, wondering how she kept setting new heights of allure, beauty, and mischief all at once.
The party wound down, and Yana had outdone herself entirely. If she had made a name for herself doing battle alongside the black riders, she had done it all over again, delightfully shocking everyone in attendance, including the King himself. Bastion had to appreciate her ability to win over an audience. She would make an excellent queen, he was certain of it. He was even more certain that he wanted no other.
Yana worked the room after her dance, even better than she had upon their entrance. She cut her own trail in Bastion’s kingdom, just as she had done her whole life. Bastion admired that about her- the same could not be said for the local would-be queens of Jedikai or daughters of other kings.
Yana approached him, making her way across the hall. Bastion had gotten up to engage the attendees as well, but rather than be swarmed with well-wishers, it was Yana who was encircled. Bastion was not overlooked, but rather, balanced, by Yana’s presence.
“My King,” she said, bowing gracefully. Bastion knew more than any other, how much it meant for her to even say those words, as well as to exhibit her regard for him before the citizens.
It was not capricious- it was profound. She made sure everyone knew- and the more exalted she was, the more it magnified him in return, now.
“Please, Sire,” Yana said, coming closer. “I desire a private audience with the King,” she whispered in his ear.
Bastion gave her a look of confirmation, and looked around at the crowd, looking for an opening. After seeing her so pretty in his chambers, and so illustrious in her show, her whispered words of desire amplified his own lust for her. He decided he had been there long enough. He held out his arm for Yana, and she took it. Bastion led her to his chambers, departing the gala. Once inside his room, she paused.
“I have something different for us tonight,” Yana said. “But before we go, we’ll have to change.”
“Change?”
“Yes, change. We cannot go about the streets so brazenly, or we’ll be spotted,” Yana said. She had already removed some of her clothing, and added new garments on top. They were all black.
Bastion had hoped to see her naked form, as he could think of little else, but he was up for her game. He quickly began changing, as Yana donned her black cloak. She pulled her hood over her head, looking up at him from underneath it. Bastion followed suit, and had his black gear in place as fast as he was able. He stepped over to Yana, and she stepped into him for a kiss.
“You know a secret way out of this place?” she asked.
“This way,” he said, and they left his chambers into a back hallway and an inconspicuous door. They hid in shadows, and surfaced in a little doorway outside the palace. Yana realized it was on the way to the King’s passage, the tall tunnel they had taken with the black riders to exit the city in secret. But tonight, she had a different spot scouted out.
Yana led the way, as they crept in the shadows, making a game out of not being spotted, waiting for people to pass, and being deathly quiet. She led him to one of the towers being built into the city walls. They were taller than the walls, but built for strength, not height.
Yana produced a key, and slipped it into the lock, opening it with as little noise as possible. It was not the centermost one near the gates, but the westernmost one, by the west meadows, and Bastion’s other project under construction. Yana stopped and kissed him, once inside.
“I love you, Bastion,” she said. She climbed the steps in mostly darkness, holding his hand to guide him upwards. They made their way up, and came out to the flat top that served as the roof, with just a small opening.
Bastion looked out in every direction, seeing his city at night, and the meadows of gypsy campfires, hearing the faint sounds, and savoring the smells that drifted upward occasionally. He had commissioned these towers to be a defense for the city, but had not considered the amazing view one like this would afford. There was a fire already ablaze near the edge of their platform that needed tending. Bastion added wood to it, impressed with Yana’s planning. Next to the fire was a makeshift bed. Just thick piles of blankets, plush, stacked together. He turned around to see Yana, who was now wearing her black cloak, and nothing else. She pulled back one side of it, revealing her skin, from her bare feet up to her shoulder.
Yana could feel her own arousal, with the anticipation of feeling him, wrapping her legs around him. She stood fast, prompting Bastion to come closer. He pulled back the other side of her cloak, loving the way it contrasted her body. He moved closer still, and slipped his hand between her legs, feeling her arousal, and feeding his own.
Yana nearly lost it, just feeling the hands of her majestic lover on her skin. She reached out and unfastened his pants, feeling his hardness, loving the way it felt in her hands. They undressed in front of each other, and Yana shed her cloak, offering all of herself, as though it was the last night of her life. Bastion moved to take her, but she set her hand to stop him. She wanted nothing more than to surrender to him, but she wanted to play a little, first.
She laid Bastion back on the bed, kissing his chest, his stomach, and went lower, taking him in her mouth. His body flexed hard at the sensation, driving Yana wild with his response. She pleasured him a while, absorbing the powerful feel of his strength at the mercy of her touch, and her tongue.
She climbed on top of him, wanting to feel the King beneath her body, between her legs. She eased herself down onto him, letting out a moan at the intensity of how it felt. She felt a climax coming on immediately, though she had barely begun.
She set her hands on his chest to steady herself, and the scar on her wrist got hot, as she touched the scar on his chest, where she had touched him for the very first time. His aura ignited, encompassing them both. She lost herself, coming hard for hi
m, as he began to push upward… setting his hands on her shoulders and pulling her down onto him harder. She let out a scream as she released, letting his energy flow through her. She twisted, impaled on him, as her mind blurred into sweet suffering. She stayed on top, stroking her hips steadily, letting it subside, feeling like she was already going to climax again. She trembled at the vibration of his powerful touch. His body seemed to hum, like a song under his skin.
She wanted to be above him, but even in this position, he was dominating her, controlling the stroke, and making her pay with pleasure. Even still, he was having his way.
She surrendered to him, as she could no longer do anything but fight for a gasp of air between each crescendo. She wanted to tell him of her love for him, but could not even speak, for what he was doing to her.
When Bastion decided she had taken all she could on top of him, he swung her around, cradling her in one arm, so that she was underneath him. He pushed in hard, drawing forth her scream, as he set himself inside her at its deepest. She was much smaller than he, and both of them loved the way he wielded his power over her intimately.
With each position, each climax she had, Bastion grew more wild, tossing her to the blankets, taking her from behind, making her scream into the blankets. He pushed down on her backside, setting himself hard, making it hurt. Yana loved the anguish and thrill, as he reduced her to a shuddering mess. She struggled greatly just to handle the energy of so much sensation.
When he could wait no longer, and she could take no more, he came with her, roaring like a beast- and her, screaming as his grateful prey. He gave her all of himself, holding nothing back. Yana whimpered, as he finished with her. He held himself inside her a while longer, letting her relax, even though he was still hard.
Bastion pulled away, and covered them in some of the blankets, as they gradually caught their breath. All the buildup of the night, and their lust for each other was satisfied, passion and aggression set loose. He stroked his warm hands along her lithe frame, savoring every contour.
“Oh, Bastion,” Yana said, floating gently down from the heights of love that he had taken her. “What is it you do to me?”
“I love you.”
“I have heard those words before, but only with you, have I believed them. I love you, my King.”
“Yana,” he said finally, “I want you to be my queen.” Yana lifted her head up to look at him, laying next to her.
“Why?” she asked.
“There is no one else that could speak to my heart as you do,” Bastion said.
“It’s not to unify the people of the kingdom?” she asked.
“No.”
“It’s not just to have an heir?”
“No.”
“What if there was no kingdom at all? Would you still want me then?”
“Yana, you said you have loved me all this time. Do you not know I have loved you just as well? Before I was King?”
“Yes,” she said. “I know you have loved me. I have always known that.” She had no doubt- her intuition of him had never wavered.
“If you marry me, you would be my queen, because I am King. But you would be queen to the people. That is something else. What I really want, Yana...
“I want you to be my wife.”
Yana let that sink in for a moment. It was a beautiful sentiment, and as she lay naked and spent, next to him, she thought there would be nothing more in the world she would like than that.
“I have never been anyone’s anything,” she said. “I don’t know how to be a wife. I don’t know how to be a queen.”
“You do know how,” Bastion said. “You know how to love me,” he continued. “No one else knows how to do that, and that is all you must know, for now. I can see to the rest.”
“I want to give you something,” she said, reaching for her cloak. She pulled out a stone, and set it into her lover’s hands.
“This is Alexandrite,” she said. “A gypsy stone.”
Bastion looked at it by the light of their fire. It seemed to change color, and it was a large, well-cut stone.
“This is a valuable stone, Yana,” he said. He had seen his share of gems, but only one other, like this one. He was amazed at the coincidence.
“I want you to have it,” Yana said. “It is the most precious thing I have.”
“My father taught me that accepting a gift honors the giver,” Bastion said. “To that end, I accept your gift.”
“You do honor me, my King,” Yana said. She would give him anything else he asked of her, that she had to give, in that moment.
“You have given of yourself generously, Yana. From the slaves, to the King. You have the heart of a servant.”
“But I am a gypsy,” she countered.
“Gypsy or not, your heart for people becomes you. I am but a servant, too.”
“You? A servant? But you are the King!”
“The King is but the greatest of servants. To lead a people is to serve the people. It is a job I take not capriciously. It is a grave duty.”
“You are a great King, Bastion.”
Bastion turned the stone over in his hand, still amazed at it.
“I have a gift for you as well,” Bastion said.
“You do not have to give me anything,” Yana said. “I am happy just to be with you.”
“I know,” he said. “That is why I will give it to you.” Bastion poured water from the jug that Yana had wisely brought up before the party, and opened the white kerchief full of little pastries he found. They ate and drank together, atop a spire overlooking both of their worlds.
As they lay down to sleep under the stars, Yana had only one more thing to tell him, as their night ended.
“I do want to be your wife.”
Yana let that last thought escort her into sleep, beside her beloved King.
_______________________
The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 21- “crown”
Bastion awoke, though he had not really slept much through the night. It was the early hours of the morning, the dark before sunrise. Yana’s voice echoed in his ears. He left the stout fortress, and his sleeping lover, heading for the palace.
Dressed in black, he crept through the empty streets. Once inside the palace, he walked inside upright and swift, a stone in his hand. Bastion entered by the route he had left, and headed for the quarters of the Chamberlain. He knocked lightly, but urgently.
No answer. He rapped on the door again. At last, the door creaked open, revealing the sleepy Chamberlain.
“What’s all this then?” the old man asked as he rubbed his eyes.
“I need your help,” Bastion said. The Chamberlain blinked, recognizing the voice.
“King Bastion, what are you doing up at this hour?” he mumbled through his boozy haze.
“I need you to get the smithy,” he replied.
“I expect the smithy is sleeping, Sire,” the Chamberlain said.
“Wake him.”
Bastion entered the galley, after rousting the Chamberlain. It was dimly lit, but he saw no one. There were several pots with steam rising from them, above the fire in the stone oven built into the wall. Bastion hoped they were the source of the roasted aroma that greeted him.
“Your majesty!” Della exclaimed, coming up from the root cellar with an armful of food.
“Della,” he said. “I am glad to see you.”
“Me?” she said, blushing in the faint light of the galley. She set her goods down on the counter, and curtsied for the King.
“Yes. I need you to do something for me,” said Bastion.
“Anything, Sire,” she said. She looked up at him, and then back to the floor, and then back at him. She couldn’t decide between looking at the King, which she had always loved doing, or looking down in deference.
“I need you to tell me that there is coffee in that pot over there.”
Della brightened. “Yes Sire,” she said. “I had gotten up early to brew it for you… well, both of you.”<
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“Did I mention a raise in wages to you?” Bastion said.
“Well, I… yes Sire. You did mention that.”
“They are doubled. I shall tell the Chamberlain to see to it. Just don’t tell the other girls,” he said with a wink. Della was rattled, trying to keep her composure.
“Shall I pour some for you to take to your room, Sire?”
“Aye. Just a pitcher, and two cups.”
“Yes, Sire,” she said, relieved to have something to do. She lifted out the pot with a staff and poured some steaming hot coffee into a stone urn.
“Shall I bring you in some breakfast as well, Sire?” she asked, trying to make conversation.
“No, I believe we will come to the galley together later,” Bastion said.
“We like Yana,” Della said. “She is lovely.”
“I’m rather fond of her myself,” Bastion said with a smile.
“Will she join you at your Coronation today?” Della asked. Bastion took two cups, and the urn that she had prepared.
“I hope so,” he said.
Bastion sat next to Yana, watching the sun rise over the city from its western wall. Sipping the hot delicacy known as coffee, he considered his future, as the sounds of the city and the meadow slowly sprouted like a flower opening its bloom for the morning sun.
Upon accepting the crown today, his course would be set. Perhaps it had been set his whole life, but the vows required to receive the crown were vows that no man would utter lightly. One last sunrise, before the commitment. He thought about running away with Yana, and shirking the crown entirely. Otta might take it, or either way, Jedikai would likely go on just fine without him. Or, perhaps, it could be overrun with suffering and collapse, if poorly directed. Bastion could not allow such an outcome.
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