Most Bright by Lyra

Loving Úner

Princess Ancalimë is given the sex talk and seduces her maidservants, not necessarily in that order.

Written for the July challenge, Teen Spirit, using (somewhat loosely) the following prompts,
Conflict: the sex talk
Themes: convention vs. rebellion
Stock characters: queen bees
LGBTQA+: explaining things to adults

Contains mild allusions to sexual experimentation, masturbation and BDSM.

'But if I were to do so, I should be free to wed whom I will; and that would be Úner (which is "Noman"), whom I prefer above all others.'~ Unfinished Tales, "Aldarion and Erendis", The Further Course of the Narrative

Almarian was stirring honey and lemon into her granddaughter's tea. Her spoon made a tinkling noise in the fragile porcelain cup that, to Ancalimë's astonishment, did not break. She was somewhat suspicious of both the drink and the vessel -- back in Emerië, they had drunk from sturdy earthenware as if her mother was not married to the King at all, and they certainly did not consume anything exotic that her father or any other Venturers had imported from their journeys -- but the smell was enticing. Her grandmother gave her an encouraging smile and raised her own cup. "Do give it a try, my dear. It really is quite lovely."
Gingerly, Ancalimë picked up the cup - like drinking from an eggshell, she thought - and took a cautious sip of the hot liquid within.
It did taste quite lovely.
Almarian was watching her, a fond smile on her lips. How young her grandmother looked, Ancalimë thought - not, of course, like a young girl, but unlike her own mother, her grandmother was still smooth-skinned, and the silver streaks in her hair made her look dignified rather than worn-out. The lines on her face had been carved by laughter, not by bitterness. If you had seen them side by side, you might have thought Erendis was the grandmother and Almarian the mother of the radiant young princess. Of course it wasn't Erendis' fault that she looked like that, Ancalimë reflected. After the constant struggles and disappointments she'd had to go through with her royal husband, she had aged even more rapidly than the absence of Eldarin blood in her line warranted. Still, Ancalimë hoped very much that she would take after father's side of the family - in terms of looks and longevity, at least.

"I hope you have settled in well, Ancalimë," Almarian said after they had sipped their tea in silence for a while. "I understand that it must be quite disconcerting to come here after the peace and quiet of Emerië..."
"It is," Ancalimë earnestly replied. "It's very different. More people, fewer sheep. So many things going on. So many things to keep in mind. It is a little overwhelming at times. But the company here is a lot more pleasant..."
Almarian smiled in a gratified manner. In truth, Ancalimë hadn't even thought about her grandmother just now - although her company certainly wasn't unpleasant. In general, life in the palace wasn't nearly as odious as Erendis had warned Ancalimë it would be. She had been given a whole set of rooms to herself, and four handmaidens of roughly her own age - one prettier than the other, and all very soft-spoken, sweet-mannered, charming and eager to please. Ancalimë's throat went dry at the mere thought of Zâbeth, who was easily her favourite of the lot. Zâbeth was gentle and demure and did not say a word more than necessary, but Ancalimë had already found that the girl was hiding a very clever and versatile tongue behind her plum-soft lips. She noticed that the frail little cup in her hand was beginning to tremble a little, and set it down with a small clang.
Her grandmother tilted her head, still radiating kindness and understanding. "Concerning company, maybe there are some dangers that I should warn you about. I know that you are a circumspect young lady, but there are certain things that your mother's teachings may have omitted... concerning men."
Men! Ancalimë made a face. She had heard enough about men from Erendis to last a whole lifetime. "I do not care for men," she said curtly.
Almarian's fond smile grew, if that was at all possible, even more fond. "Not yet, my dear, but as you mature, you will find that you will not remain as indifferent towards men as you are in the innocence of your youth."
The innocence of her youth! Ancalimë had to hide a smile. Again, her thoughts drifted to Zâbeth - her firm breasts, her scented skin, the plumpness of her hips, the gentle light in her eyes when Ancalimë pulled her close and kissed her. The delightfully warm and moist cleft between her legs, so eager to be explored by Ancalimë's fingers. Or pretty Inzil, who had discovered the toys Ancalimë had brought from Emerië! Since Erendis had banned all men from her house, she had encouraged her ladies to seek pleasure in other ways, and in spite of her youth, Ancalimë had picked up the one or other thing. The playful Inzil had likewise easily figured out the purpose of the smooth ivory olisbos* in Ancalimë's drawer, though she really should have asked for permission before trying it out. Instead, she had confessed her transgression only afterwards, and the princess had felt obliged to whip her. Curiously, Inzil had been as eager for the punishment as she had previously been to experiment with Ancalimë's olisbos, and Ancalimë had ended up striking her longer and harder than she would ordinarily have. And afterwards...
She felt her body respond to the memory. Her cheeks flushed, and she confessed, "Oh, I am not that innocent. My handmaidens and I --"
The laughter lines around Almarian's eyes deepened further. "They have told you a few things already, have they? That is good. Very good. These are things that a young woman should know." She sobered. "But there are some important differences between the feelings and experiences of these serving-girls, and those that are proper for you, the king's heir. So indulge me and listen. If you know everything that I am telling you, there's no harm done. But if you misstep because you did not know about something, the consequences could be dire."
Ancalimë nodded obediently, taking another sip of her tea.

"You see," Almarian went on, "at some point you will find some men very... attractive. Maybe you will admire them for their beauty or their strength, or maybe you will love the sound of their voice or the way that they laugh. You will want to be around such a man as much as you can. You will probably want to touch him, and be touched. You will want to kiss him, and be kissed. And if the attraction is particularly strong, you may long..." Almarian cast a furtive glance around, as if worried that the servants in the hall might have snuck closer to listen, but they stood firmly in their places by the door. "You may long to feel such a man fill the sheath between your legs with the sword that grows between his." Her hand travelled down into her lap, pressing briefly against the silk of her gown.
Ancalimë nodded to show that she understood her grandmother's meaning, desiring no further elaboration. The scenario Almarian described was not entirely surprising, but rather distasteful to her.
"That is perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of, in itself," Almarian went on, "but it is of the utmost importance that you do not act on such impulses, nor allow the man you admire to act on them. Not only could this act result in the begetting of a child; your honour and the honour of your line depend on your restraint in that respect. Do not mistake this for love; it is only lust, and lust is a bad councillor. Only when you are married may you celebrate love in this manner. Until then, I urgently advise you not to seek the company of young men, certainly not alone. Not because all young men are rogues, or because I do not trust you! Please do not think I do not trust you. Simply believe me that these urges can be quite powerful, and it is easier to avoid temptation than to fight it. Do you understand, my darling?"
"Do not worry, grandmother," Ancalimë said blithely. "I am quite certain that I'm not interested in... a man's sword." She once more tried to picture the scene her grandmother had described and felt no lust at all, only a certain detached curiosity. She replaced the handsome, muscular man in her mental image - modelled on the sculptures in the palace gardens - with Zâbeth, and felt a surge of heat in her lower belly. She thought of Inzil, the girl's bruised buttocks quivering as Ancalimë had fingered her to completion, and was tempted to moan with delight. No; imagining the same thing with a man was no comparison at all. She shook her head, decisively. "Indeed, I am confident that I have no desire to seek the company of young men."
"Ah, my dear, they are not all bad," Almarian said. "Your mother has done you a severe disservice if she has taught you so."
"No, that's not what I mean," Ancalimë protested. "I'm sure there are some fine men. They're just... not for me."

Almarian nodded understandingly. "That is how you feel now, because you are only on the cusp of womanhood. One day you feel differently. But what I told you today still holds true then. Do not give yourself up to a man until you are married."
"You misunderstand," Ancalimë said. "The man I love and wish to marry is Úner."
"Very droll!" her grandmother laughed. "Stick to that resolve, my sweet, and you will not get into trouble."
Shaking her head again, Ancalimë explained, "No, grandmother, what I mean is that I infinitely prefer my handmaidens to any man."
Patting her hand gently, Almarian replied, "Yes, of course, my dear. Go and play with your friends." Another fond smile. "You will grow up soon enough."
That, Ancalimë thought, was not at all what she had meant; but there seemed to be no point in trying to clarify the matter. At any rate, her grandmother's attitude suited her perfectly well. No doubt there would be trouble later, but she could always say that she had been perfectly honest. For now, life in the palace suited her perfectly well.

Chapter End Notes

* An olisbos is basically an ancient Greek dildo. The ancient word seemed more fitting for the Númenórean setting.