“What.”
“Athena’s super tiny, okay!?” said Jon. “And it’s something about being a fairy. She can’t stay still, even if she wants to—and fairies are hard to find unless they specifically try to be. They can’t help it, apparently.”
Linda rubbed her temples. Why in god’s name did her new castle even need a 'Fairy Enclosure’ of all things? “Another thing to worry about, then. Great. Wonderful.”
“...Sorry.” Jon pressed his plump, painted lips thin in contemplation. “I’ll find her. Zoe too. I barely know what happened to her.”
“No, it’s alright,” Linda said. “I’ll worry about Zoe. Could you keep working on the magic?”
“Hopefully,” Jon said. “I’m not nearly as busy as you are, but… Huh. Who’s that?”
“God damnit, I told the guards not to…” Linda spun around and paused.
Ah. Oh no.
Oh no.
Strolling from the fence gate was Linda’s new husband, Mr. tall-and-chiseled himself, with a warm, picture-perfect smile. His night robes were replaced with a crisp linen shirt, half-buttoned and rolled at the sleeves, pairing nicely with lightweight pants, fit tight and doing masterful work hugging his kingly butt.
Without meaning to, Linda crossed one tantalizing leg over the other in a slow, teasing motion. Her body wanted to do other things too, but she did an admirable job pushing those thoughts aside.
Warm dampness between your fat, queenly thighs.
Shut up.
Look at those muscles. That beard. His glasses. He’s exactly our type.
Shut. Up.
Remember him inside you. How nice it was, letting go.
“Dearest,” said the king, to Linda. He turned to Jon. “Daughter.”
“Hello,” Jon managed, wide-eyed and bewildered. His gaze flickered to the king’s red hair, then a strand of his own. A quick gasp in realization. “Your… Majesty?”
“Your Majesty!” The king started, and gave a hearty laugh. “You wound me, Jeanne. Admirable a princess you might be, there’s such a thing as being too polite. Especially with your own family.”
He sat down. Jon gave a panicked look to Linda. Linda, brilliantly, gave a panicked look back.
“What brings you here, dearest?” Linda leaned as far into her calculating, queenly persona as she could. It almost worked, if you ignored the—
His touch.
Stop.
His cock.
Linda uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She downed another glass of ice tea. She tried again. “I thought you were busy with your own responsibilities?”
“Oh, I had an appointment moved.” The king idly grabbed a muffin. “Wanted to visit my darling wife, and… Mind if I steal Jeanne away? This pertains to her responsibilities.”
His tone hinted at some prior conversation. One that Linda had absolutely no memory of, on account of the fact this man hadn’t existed a day ago. His voice also carried the quality of someone comfortable in his authority on the matter—as if he truly believed Jon was his daughter.
She looked at Jon, his delicate features colored with confusion. She looked at her new husband, and—his muscles against your curves. Tear off your clothes. Fuck him. Now—yeah, no, Linda needed to be as far from this man as possible, for her own sanity. Sorry Jon.
“Of course, dearest.”
“W-what?” Jon squeaked out.
Jon panicked. So, he did what he always did when he panicked: Distract himself.
Even after a full day, moving through his new ‘home’ sent a prickle of wrongness down his spine. The layout was too familiar. Jon’s room was now the ‘princess’s chamber,’ but it sat right where it should’ve been. The living room had become a throne room, the kitchen a dining hall, yet their positions hadn’t changed. Even the family pictures hung in the same spots, though they’d become lavish paintings.
Then there were the differences. Just this simple hallway now stretched wide and grand, the old chipped-paint walls replaced with immaculate stonework that gleamed under the sunlight pouring in. The windows were less windows now and more sweeping openings along the passage, held up by sandstone pillars and showcasing the stunning kingdom below. You’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere in the palace that didn’t give way to some nice view or warm salty breeze.
…Where did the ocean lead to, anyway? Was everything else unchanged, or had Lake Point been shoved into some other world entirely? Jon would have to look into that later. After he figured out the magic problem. And the stone problem. And the missing Athena problem—
“Jeanne?” asked the king, warmly.
—and the new dad problem.
Built like an Adonis to complement his and his mother’s goddess-like curves, the king was devastatingly handsome—hard muscle, towering height, and infuriating confidence, with at least fourteen inches on Jon’s dainty princess frame. He wore glasses, like Jon. And had curly, fiery red hair… Like Jon.
As of this morning, at least. Jon’s hair was supposed to be straight and brown.
All of that might’ve been bearable, if he kept being a stranger. But there was the way he spoke to Jon, all soft and knowing. Or how he slowed his steps without comment, matching Jon’s mincing sway in those goddamn heeled sandals. But how he looked down and smiled—it was doting, protective. That in particular left Jon feeling too many kinds of small and fragile.
The king thought of him as his daughter. And, disastrously, he truly seemed to love her.
“Jeanne!” he repeated.
“Y-yes?” Jon finally answered.
The king nodded. “You heard, haven’t you? I’m sorry.”
Jon opened his mouth, then closed it. What were they even talking about?
“I know, I know. We’ve spoken about this. At length,” said the king. “And I did promise to respect your final say on the matter. I won’t go back on that. But to turn these few straight-away would be… Politically consequential.”
“Papa?” Jon said, cringing at himself. He was not some kind of a daddy’s girl. But the king had insisted, and his traitorous mouth obeyed. “Where are we going?”
The king’s grimace said it all. “To greet the first of your suitors to make it this far.”
