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A Slave in a Crown	By : SAF Category: S through Z > Wheel of Time Series Views: 13778 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Wheel of Time series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Skin Deep
- 2-A Slave in a Crown
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- 2
Morgase Trakand found no comfort in the familiar sight of her palace in Caemlyn. Never a woman to easily forget a slight or let go of a grudge, she still seethed in anger even now, weeks after being denied the chance to see her daughter.
Her guards and servants trailed her quietly. They had been uncharacteristically quiet all throughout the journey back from Tar Valon in fact. She had ostensibly gone to the city to discuss the rising anti-Aes Sedai sentiment in Andor with the Amyrlin Seat, but in truth she had mostly wanted to see Elayne. She missed her more than she had expected to on sending her to be trained in the Tower. And worried about her. Oh, she was a competent, dutiful and well-trained girl. But too brave and adventurous for her own good. When the Amyrlin had refused to allow Morgase to see Elayne she had been rightly furious, and that fury had quickly turned to fear. Had something happened to her child? Could it be that the sisters had hurt her, and did not dare admit it for fear of what Morgase might do? Whatever Andor’s long history of support for Tar Valon, if they had harmed Elayne, or allowed her to be harmed under their care, then Morgase would see them answer for it. Somehow ... What exactly she could do against those who mastered the One Power she did not know but, if they had harmed her Elayne, the Queen would gladly swear on the Lion Throne to see them pay.
It had taken more than a little pressing before the Amyrlin finally admitted that they did not know where Elayne was. She had left the Tower with another student, apparently. Her fate was now a mystery, and one that chilled Morgase’s blood. If they have hurt her, or allowed her to be hurt, they will answer for it!
She stalked through the marbled halls of the palace, and even the long-legged Tallanvor, who commanded her escort, had to hasten to keep up. If Elaida had been there she would have rebuked Morgase for her undignified haste, and tried to insist she match her pace to the Aes Sedai’s, but Elaida had been stripped of her position as the Queen’s advisor and left behind in the White Tower. A slap to Tar Valon. In answer to the slap of daring to lose Morgase’s daughter.
“How many died in the fighting?” she asked. That was another barb in her heart. While she was off in Tar Valon, seething at the Amyrlin, her people here in Caemlyn were seething too. There had been rioting in protest of Tar Valon’s influence over Andor. For the first time, Morgase wondered if the protesters were right, but that did not excuse the loss of life.
“Roughly two hundred,” Tallanvor said grimly. “It could have been a lot worse. This Gaebril ...”
“The Lord you say put down the riots? What House is he from?”
Tallanvor stiffened. “Rumour on the street lays the credit with him, Your Grace. I do not.”
“He is in the palace?”
“Yes.”
“Then have him escorted to my office.”
“As you command.” The guardsman saluted before leaving.
As she made her way to her office, Morgase dispatched her maids to summon the First Maid and the First Clerk to a meeting. She would need to speak to the higher-ranking nobles in the city as well, but it wouldn’t do to summon them in such a manner. As Queen she could, but it was best not to.
Once safely ensconced in her office, free from the always-watching eyes of her subjects and rivals both, Morgase finally allowed herself to relax. She took the Rose Crown from her head and laid it carefully on its red silk cushion before collapsing on the sedan chair and letting out a long sigh. Where is Elayne? Is she well? Gawyn had seemed unhurt, and assured her he knew nothing of his sister’s condition, positive or negative. She’d wanted to bring him back with her but he had plead to remain and he was a grown man now, so she’d left him in the Tower. Meanwhile, Galad had apparently run off with the Whitecloaks of all things, in no small part due to Elayne’s disappearance. He had always had a tendency to take things to extremes, that boy. She suspected his zealous drive to excel was born of trauma. His birth mother had abandoned him for reasons no-one knew. Some part of the boy must have wondered if it wasn’t due to some fault in him that she had left. And what boys feared invariably became part of what men seek to destroy. She would contact him as soon as she could. The Children of the Light were not good for him.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Morgase sat up straight and composed herself before calling out her permission to enter.
Tallanvor entered, bringing with him another guardsman. The two flanked one of the handsomest men Morgase had ever seen. More than six and a half feet tall, and muscular, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach, he made the two guards seem boyish in comparison, though neither was a small man. The newcomer had skin of a dark brown colour, full lips, and tightly curled black hair. He dressed richly, and there was a self-satisfied look in his dark eyes. Those eyes cooled Morgase’s ardour somewhat. Handsome he might be, but this man was potentially dangerous.
“Lord Gaebril, Your Grace, as ordered,” said Tallanvor.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said, and was pleased that he and the other guardsman took up positions by the door without her needing to instruct it. Even a Queen in her palace was not completely safe. An assassin might have little hope of escaping here should he make an attempt on her life, but it was far from unheard of for men to throw their lives away if it meant taking an enemy down with them. “I understand we have you to thank for the swift end to the recent riots, Lord Gaebril. Forgive me, but I do not believe I caught your House name ...”
The man laughed richly. “Oh I doubt you would have heard of it, Morgase,” he said in a deep voice. Her eyes narrowed. It was not at all proper for him, or anyone, to address her by her given name. She opened her mouth to rebuke him ... but he kept speaking, and a sudden fascination came over her. “Though I would be happy to discuss my origins in private. Why don’t you dismiss your guards so we can get to know one another?”
Morgase was too fascinated by the sound of his voice to frame a response, but Tallanvor spoke up angrily. “Mind your tongue. You speak to the Queen of Andor. Address her appropriately.”
Gaebril ignored him. “In private,” he repeated.
“Yes,” Morgase murmured, though part of was aghast at the suggestion. No, the command, the command with which she needed to comply. She should comply with all his commands, everyone should. Why had she ever doubted it? “Guards. Leave us.”
“Your Grace?” Tallanvor said incredulously.
“You heard the Queen, guardsman. Leave us,” Gaebril smirked.
Tallanvor stood so stiffly and looked so outraged that for a moment she thought he would refuse. Part of her desperately wished that he would. Something was wrong, but she could not explain what. But the Queen’s Guards were well trained, and loyal to Morgase’s commands. The guardsmen saluted, and let themselves out, leaving her alone with the stunningly handsome man. A man worthy of her worship. What? No. Never.
Gaebril chuckled to himself. “Well this was easy. I could wish everything was this easy.”
“Your name?” she said confusedly. She had been asking him about that. It had seemed important at the time.
His smile broadened. “You wouldn’t like to hear it, and the weave is not fool-proof. Best not to tempt fate. You may call me Lord Gaebril. Or master. Yes, master will suit me fine, ‘Your Grace’.”
“I have no master,” she said, blinking, her voice less angry than it should have been.
“Don’t you? Let’s see about that.” Gaebril strode towards her confidently. “Stand up,” he said, gesturing impatiently for her to get out of his way. Morgase found herself obeying, and never mind how disrespectful the gesture was. He sat in her chair and leaned back, relaxing, one arm draped across the back. With his other hand he began untying the laces of his breeches.
Morgase stood there dumbly, watching as this strange man displayed his cock to her there in her own office. Her guards were right outside the door, but the thought of calling for them never entered her mind. She just stared at Gaebril’s semi-hard manhood, shocked at the sudden desire that stabbed through her mind.
“Suck me,” he said, and his voice rang with the smug certainty that she would.
The Queen of Andor fell to her knees before the strange man. A distant voice cried out for her to stop, but she ignored it. She took Gaebril’s cock in her beringed hands and guided it towards her mouth. He was already big, and she suspected he was not yet at his full size, but she opened wide and wrapped her lips around the bulbous head. As ordered, she began sucking, though that voice cried out for her to stop. Odd. It sounded like her own voice.
Gaebril’s hand tangled in her red-gold curls. “Deeper,” he demanded. “Take it all the way into your throat. A Queen should suck cock better than that.”
Shame coursed through Morgase, but not shame at what she was doing, only that she had failed to please him. She pushed her head down on his cock, trying desperately not to gag on the hot rod of meat that poked the back of her throat.
“That’s better,” he rumbled. “I think I will like being King of Andor. There’s nothing quite like having a rich, beautiful, powerful come bucket at your beck and call. I will have others besides you, of course, but if you keep sucking like that I might just keep you. Would you like that?”
Morgase nodded her head up and down Gaebril’s cock in response. In that moment she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more. He seemed to like that. He gripped her hair harder and began fucking her face with his huge cock, heedless of her discomfort. Her underwear was soaked in her juices, and she knew she would do anything to please this man.
“I knew you would.”
There was no doubt in his voice, and suddenly there was no doubt in Morgase either. Without being touched, or even touching herself, she came explosively in her underwear. “Yes!” she tried to shout, but her mouth was too full for more than a garbled groan to escape.
Gaebril laughed at her. “Good girl. Be’lal and the others chose poorly. I doubt they’ll find a mouth half this sweet to fuck.” Be’lal? I ... that name, it’s—But Morgase’s last rational thoughts were blown away when Gaebril’s cock twitched in her mouth, and his sticky come spurted forth to fill her throat. His pleasure overwhelmed her. She could only kneel there, her eyes rolling back in her head as his come dribbled over her lips and chin to stain the breast of her rich dress.
Gaebril smirked to himself, and sprawled in Morgase’s chair as he watched her desperately trying to lick up all of his spilled come. “Yes, this will suit me just fine,” he drawled.
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A Slave in a Crown