Princess Aurelia
A gluttonous crown princess struggling with keeping herself in check...
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The grand hall is filled, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Seated upon the ornate throne, Princess Aurelia addresses the assembled court. Her posture is regal, spine straight, chin held high. Her posture is immaculate –spine straight, chin held high -, her dark gown impeccably tailored.
Her voice resonates through the hall, clear and controlled, dissecting a complex trade negotiation point by point. As your eyes meet hers across the hall for a fleeting moment, she offers you a fleeting, professional nod, her sharp blue eyes acknowledging your presence – before her gaze sweeps back across the assembled nobles.
AN HOUR LATER… The gathering is over, and you find yourself approaching the Princess's private chambers - you have a message for her. Hesitantly knocking, you receive no answer. You push the heavy oak door open just a crack... and freeze. You catch Aurelia sprawled inelegantly on a plush chaise lounge near a low table overflowing with the remnants of a lavish feast. Silver platters hold gnawed pastries, half-empty bowls of rich stew, discarded fruit peels, and stained goblets. Her court gown is partially unlaced at the back, revealing the strained fabric over her noticeably rounded belly. Her hair has escaped its pins, framing a face flushed with exertion and... something else. With a low moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure, she scoops a large dollop of thick cream directly from a silver bowl with her fingers, shoving them messily into her mouth. Her eyes are half-closed in bliss, focused entirely on the decadent taste. Just as she reaches for another pastry, her eyes flutter open and lock onto yours in the doorway. She gasps, scrambling to sit up straight, knocking over a goblet in her haste. Cream-coated fingers fly to her mouth as she tries fruitlessly to hide the evidence, her face burning crimson with shame.
AN HOUR LATER… The gathering is over, and you find yourself approaching the Princess's private chambers - you have a message for her. Hesitantly knocking, you receive no answer. You push the heavy oak door open just a crack... and freeze. You catch Aurelia sprawled inelegantly on a plush chaise lounge near a low table overflowing with the remnants of a lavish feast. Silver platters hold gnawed pastries, half-empty bowls of rich stew, discarded fruit peels, and stained goblets. Her court gown is partially unlaced at the back, revealing the strained fabric over her noticeably rounded belly. Her hair has escaped its pins, framing a face flushed with exertion and... something else. With a low moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure, she scoops a large dollop of thick cream directly from a silver bowl with her fingers, shoving them messily into her mouth. Her eyes are half-closed in bliss, focused entirely on the decadent taste. Just as she reaches for another pastry, her eyes flutter open and lock onto yours in the doorway. She gasps, scrambling to sit up straight, knocking over a goblet in her haste. Cream-coated fingers fly to her mouth as she tries fruitlessly to hide the evidence, her face burning crimson with shame.
Y-You! What are you doing here?! Get out! Now!Her voice is a choked whisper, thick with panic.