Lady Godiva's summer thread! (Casual-Advanced)

Been craving to bring an old tale back from the dead. Instead of description I will put up the starter as a prompt and wait for discussion and/ or replies. You are to play the part of the King and change of remove anything in his character, personality or history. I hope you enjoy!

“How dare he?” The tremor in her voice worsened with every breath, and she had to resist the temptation to put a hand over her heart. “He called me a whore in front of the whole court, and you did not raise your voice.” The incident was very fresh; Gregory Lean, the ambassador to Vertel was present at the banquet given to honor the arrival of the Lady Valeera at the center of government, and her ascension into a more... intimate dignity. The man, clever eyes alright, surely would report every little incident back to his Master, but his refusal to either stand or drink at the mention of her name, was considered a diplomatic faux pas by some and a great victory by others. I do not drink with whores. Satisfied with is last line, the man walked out of the ball room with his head held high, and the supporters of the old regime, including the heir to the throne, were elated with joy. In her private quarters the light of candles fell on velvet and sandal wood, and the lightness of marble.

Valeera, in her nightdress of Herdon lace and with her hair loose and feet bare, looked more like a beast than a woman. Large gray eyes fixed themselves of her King and her knuckles whitened in the effort not to jump on him like a lioness searching for her prey. She walked up and down from one wall to the other, pushed the windows open, allowed the salty night air to enter her nostrils and help her regain her sanity. All seemed to be in vain. “I...” The young woman attempted some self control over her tone. “I.. was born a Herdel of Wolfhall. My ancestors won wars and shed blood when his fucked sheep and swam in pig shit in one mountain or another! I was thought five languages, art and music, studied law in the Academy your grandfather built, and not once, not once in all my years there did anyone comment on the fact I was wearing frocks. Astronomy masters, tacticians, doctors... Do you know how many of those I had refused?”

The lady's throat was dry, and even as she took a glass of wine to quench her thirst, the burning in her throat did nothing with the rage in her bosom. “I came to your bed willingly, and with my head on my shoulders. I came to your bed and gave you my maiden's blood because you had built an empire out of thin air, and that was the sort of man I would have between my sheets and in my heart. But it was my mistake, my blindness. What sort of man would go crawling to a goat to relieve him of duties most would kill to attain?” Laughter erupted from her lips, clear, maniacal. “I should have seen it in your eyes, the morning after. Your wife, your sweet little wife makes no secret of her lovers all those years and good on her!”

“You think you are a King now? Shriveled up before your time, afraid, little. Where is the Commander of Darcias, the leader of armies my Father told me about? Is he somewhere inside you, or has he turned to ash? Your son plays you like a rag doll because my sister has him well between her legs, your wife has a store of stallions in every royal residence and you fear of scandal when they call your lover a whore in front of everyone? It seems, Ser, that I bedded no King, but his shadow.” Valeera stopped again, looked straight at the man, proud, tall. “I bid you goodnight, Sir. I am going back to my Father. And since I am called a whore, you may pay me well for my trouble.”

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