Isabella looked wistfully at the woman, wondering if she knew the truth of Sirius' mind. She would never dare to think she understood the devilish man, but felt a kindred spirit of a sort within him, even if it was only partially, and a small part at that. "Do you think our King's heart beats more fiercely for himself?" she said softly, knowing her words were semi-treasonous, though an observation. He did seem to care for them on the outside, but all his tendencies pointed to the fact that he was a King first and foremost for himself, and for his ego. She had seen the way his eyes had glittered in victory when he took her, and she could see that his lust for her had always been about himself in the end. It was to pleasure him, to please him, so that he could benefit from the couplings. He paid willingly and well, but it was all the same in the end. A woman submitting to a man's lustful will and him gaining what he sought; release.
Their King was king in all aspects; he played the part well and the crown sat heavy on his head. It was hard to imagine him as purely noble, good, or even pure at all. A tainted King he was, and it suited the place he ruled. "Well, we cannot really complain if we are all doing well." She gave the other woman a withered look. It was directed at the pack itself, and though the woman did enjoy Salsola, she felt that things were too quiet. But that was stability. And if that was boring, so be it, right? "I wonder, the slaves. You procure them, don't you?" Isabella changed the subject, wary of the conversation around their King.
Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.
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