The wedding was fast approaching. The whole Palace was in a frenzy of excitement. The years of preparation were about to come to fruition. All those people who had dedicated the past 18 years to saving the Kingdom through a fortuitous union were finally going to see their plans succeed. From the chambermaids, to the seamstresses, to the tutors, to the King himself, all were heady with victory. An influential Prince had been secured and he seemed very happy with his Princess. And so he should, she was the most beautiful creature anyone had seen, and she would bear him many children.
But there was one man who could not share their joy. Luckily, he was used to keeping his emotions in check. A man could not endure the ordeal of battle without learning to suppress his thoughts and desires. A man could not spend years silently watching over others without conquering his own needs. And by day he continued to do his duty, to follow orders, to not speak his mind. But by night he was tormented by the desires he usually kept in check. His dreams were filled with feverish images and memories, and violent revenge.
Soon his dreams encroached on his waking thoughts. There was only so much a man could endure, even a man such as this. He could see the way the betrothed couple responded to each other. In public, these were subtle signs, but he was used to being able to interpret even the most hidden of signals. He saw how the Prince would occasionally lay his hand on the Princess's waist, how she bent her head towards him, how she would do whatever he said without questioning him. A knife twisted in his gut as he watched them grow closer as each day passed. He had thought he had wanted her to be happy, but now she was lighting up for another man he could not bear it.
He had thought the unrequited longing he used to have for her would be the worst thing he had to bear, but now when he looked at her he knew exactly what she looked like when she unpeeled those rich garments, he knew exactly how she sounded as she was driven towards release, he knew exactly how she tasted.
And then the signs became less subtle. He would walk into a room and find them in a tight clinch behind a door, the Prince's hands full of one of her breasts, his mouth loudly sucking on her pink nipple. He would catch them squeezed into an alcove, her head thrown back, her hands grasping his grinding buttocks. And one day he came upon them in the library, her skirts around her waist, her legs spread indecently wide, his tongue eagerly lapping at her quim. The Prince's lack of decorum disturbed him. He had taken this 18-year-old prize and was using it as he wished. At least the guard had tried to resist his desire for her.
The way the Prince looked at him also disturbed him. From the very first day, there had been a tension. Few men were his physical match, but this one was and the Guard sensed he wished to prove his dominance. He would frequently fix the guard with his cold grey stare, seemingly daring him to be the first to look away. And once, when the guard came upon them in the Princess's private garden, wrapped in a feverish embrace, the Prince had stared at him over her shoulder and smiled a silky smile. It had made him want to do unspeakable things.