Court of the Crimson King
Copyright© 2025 by Fick Suck
Chapter 13
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 13 - When a cranky young veteran of the repulsed brutal invasion is found and returned to the Court of the Crimson King, he is shocked by the poor state of the kingdom. North is dragooned into the reigning queen’s retinue, a position fraught with politics, intrigue, magic, and hints of destiny. The Court is an intricate dance that one must master or else disappear into oblivion. Based loosely on the song of the same title by King Crimson.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa
“Beer,” North declared with unheralded fanfare. “My friend, the Yellow Jester, is unusually parched this hour and is unfortunately responsible for me as well. Few know that he is a tongue-tied fool when face-to-face with young maidens of good repute, but a fool he is. While I cannot accompany him to quench his thirst alone, we can accompany you should you desire to alleviate his regrettable condition.”
The sun was still shining but towards the western sky. North heard a few birds chirping too. While his heart was thumping in his chest, he heard no other voices nearby. He stopped scanning the vicinity and returned to the young woman standing in front of him.
The scowl disappeared. “To where are you supposed to accompany me to relieve the Yellow Jester’s thirst? I assume you are suggesting some foul-smelling swill house?”
“The only foul-smelling rooms amid the palace complex are the Salon,” North said with new confidence. “The sofa room smells like old lady farts.”
“Really, now?” Paquin said, a slight smile was rising at the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t realize that you were an expert in the scent of old lady farts.”
“I need to remember that line,” the Yellow Jester interjected. “This is the best hour I’ve had in quite some time. I think a fine ale would suit this late afternoon repartee.”
Taking the cue, North said with a slight bow of his head, “Will you do us the favor, dear Paquin, of allowing us to accompany you to the Back and Down?”
“I can’t go there,” she screeched. “There would be a scandal.”
“You are speaking to the Jack of Spades,” North said. “The scandal is already afoot. To put a sharper point on the matter, your mother and your Queen manipulated, arranged, and plotted our tete-a-tete before either of us had a voice in the matter. They demanded we meet, but they didn’t say where, did they?”
“Oo, you’re conniving,” Paquin said as she appeared to think through North’s accusation. Rubbing her hands together, she gave him a big grin, “I think I need a beer.”
“We will do our best to protest your good name,” the Yellow Jester said. “I mean, protect your good name, of course.”
Each man took an arm and escorted the woman out of the garden and down the path towards the unassuming corner of the grounds where the tavern was tucked underneath a building that housed bureaucratic offices and storage. North did not know the history of the tavern, but he did learn its creation had been a compromise with a long-forgotten king over the need for a good drink without having to travel through the gauntlet of guards and then onward to the city. The context of the name was always a good topic of speculation, but again, no historian had stepped forward to give an authoritative version of events.
“The place is empty,” Paquin exclaimed when she finally lit through the basement door. “Where is everyone?”
“With most of the inhabitants still glued to their seats with speeches that detail their lives for the next year, no one will be here early,” the Yellow Jester explained. “Besides, we appreciate your company and don’t wish to truly cause you trouble with your mother and her friends. As your other companion enjoyed the Salon in relative peace today, you may enjoy the tavern now. An ale for your troubles?”
North led her to his usual table in the back and pulled out a chair for her to sit. As the Yellow Jester disappeared into the back to find someone to take their coin, North sat down next to the young woman. He laid his hands on the table, palm up.
“We may not have much time, just the two of us,” he began in one quick breath, “and boldness seems to be the only strategy that works around here. I am the Jack of Spades, and I am told you are the Fire Witch, a moniker that pleases me. I cannot court you in the manner of the dandies of the Court. I need someone I can trust, and I need help. I seek a woman of intelligence, sense, fortitude, and a willful spirit. What do you seek?”
She snorted. “Since we’ve dispensed with courtly manners of any sort, which I will admit is refreshing, I seek someone who thinks with more than their cock and serves more than their base, selfish interests. If we were to become lovers and you cheated on me, I would cut your balls off first and cut out your heart last, after the rest of your innards and your eyeballs have been removed with a butter knife.”
“Ah, we have beer,” the Yellow Jester announced from the doorway behind the bar. “The bastards have been hiding a small cask for an unnamed patron who did not come to collect. I don’t know what Usher’s Autumn Ale is, but it’s expensive.”
“It’s delicious and a common serve on the Celestial Way,” North said. “How we got a cask here, only our Queen could answer, maybe Bordo.”
“The Celestial Way? You’ve been there?” Paquin asked, her eyes wide.
“Aye,” North replied. “After the final battle at Albion, I wandered the Celestial Way and found a job in a tavern that served travelers. Our Queen found me there.”
“Can you take me there?”
“At the moment, no. Your mother would kill me; Adrianna Victorious would put a price on my head; and I would break an oath I swore to the kingdom,” North said. “You would appreciate it though.”
“Pooh,” she spit out with a pout.
“Women in a tavern don’t say ‘pooh’ expecting the opportunity to return,” North said. “We try to be respectful, but the chains of politeness are left at the door.”
Paquin gave him one of her mother’s looks that had been used earlier in the day while he sat on the sofa. “Well, shit, why didn’t you say so in the first place? They smile so sweet as they lie out their arse. Then they patiently pat you on the arm with their gloved hand while the other one is pulling out a knife from their bodice. You’re saying that I can say whatever the hell I like to these patented hypocrites and flag humpers?”
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