In Service of the State

Oh Alessandro, Alessandro! What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into? Why the hell did you agree to any of this in the first place? Huh? Huh? And why the fuck am I still here?! When is this going to end?

“Attention, attention!” a deep, velvety voice thundered across the hall, and within seconds the grand hall of the palace of Constantinople fell silent. Only the rustling of dresses from the gathered guests still echoed softly through the chamber.

At that very moment, I felt overly massive, warm, confident hands settle onto my shoulders, fingers covered in golden rings. They landed so lightly, yet I instantly felt their weight, as if they had pressed me into the ground, forcing me not to move, forcing me to accept my place. Still, I jerked sharply, instinctively clenching my fist out of old habit, ready to smash it into this pompous bastard’s face, but immediately grimaced as the heavy earrings painfully swayed against my ears, while the tight corset dug into my ribs hard enough to nearly rob me of breath.

“Don’t twitch, Theodora,” a masculine bass whispered right beside my ear, and I felt his hot breath against my skin, sending a disgusting, humiliating shiver through my entire body. “You’ve already attracted more than enough attention over the last month.”

Fuck, how I hate that voice.

“By the will of Emperor Constantine Dragases and by decree of the council,” the voice continued, cutting through my thoughts, “Princess Theodora Palaiologina shall now be presented to her betrothed, Andronikos Laskaris.”

‘God, I’m so sick of all of you,’ I thought, and the sheer familiarity of that irritation actually made me feel better for a second. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself back in my office in Milan, seated behind my glass desk while my beloved Ginevra massaged my shoulders before always slipping beneath the table afterward and taking me into her mouth the way only she knew how.

“Smile,” Constantine, my “father,” whispered quietly, squeezing my shoulders harder and dragging me back into reality before I could fully sink into the realization that my “erection” from that fantasy was no longer pressing against the fabric of trousers. Because there was no erection anymore. Only that warm, wet, sticky heat between my legs.

I forced myself to straighten up despite the overwhelming resistance inside me.

“That’s it,” Constantine murmured approvingly behind me, his fingers tightening slightly on my shoulders. “Much better.”

‘Much better? I’d grind you into asphalt, you bastard, if I could become myself again. No, actually, the very first thing I’ll do once I get back is personally beat the living shit out of that scientist from “Chronosynthesis” who tricked me into this fucking world where I was born... as this!’

I clenched my fists beneath the folds of my skirt, feeling my long nails dig into my palms, then subtly rolled my shoulder in an attempt to shake off his hand. Of course, it came out far too... feminine, weak and helpless, and realizing that twisted something inside me.

Applause erupted throughout the hall.

“Present yourself to the court,” that voice sounded behind me again, louder now, cutting through the applause while still making sure only I could hear it.

I stepped forward, cursing internally at the damned corset that seemed to tighten even further in that moment, at the heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, their echoes flying across the chamber, and at those damned wide hips that, though mostly hidden beneath the volume of the gown, still swayed enough to make me lose balance for a second. As if those three weeks of “royal” training had never happened. Three fucking weeks where they taught me, me, heir to the Moretti empire, how to hold my back straight, how to lower my gaze, how to fucking breathe so my breasts wouldn’t rise “too provocatively,” as though I weren’t a human being but some walking display piece for the old bastards now sitting before me.

The hall exploded into applause again, but I could feel hundreds of hungry, appraising eyes on me. Especially the men’s. They stared at my tits, pushed upward by the corset into two full, firm mounds, at my narrow waist, at the long dark chestnut braids trailing over my shoulders and swaying softly with every movement.

Everything quieted again. I needed to speak. You have to, Alessandro, you have to... Otherwise they’ll send you to some monastery where you’ll rot like some quiet obedient woman. And despite all my resistance to these church bastards, sooner or later they’d break me and turn me into not even a meek Theodora, no, something worse. Stripped of inheritance rights and disgraced, I’d become less than nobody, and I knew it for certain thanks to the memories of my life as “Theodora” here that now surfaced whenever I asked myself even the simplest question.

I inhaled slowly, feeling the corset once again refusing to let me breathe properly. Fuck it...

“I...” I began, only to freeze at how feminine my voice sounded in the silence of the hall and how, because of that pause, my “father” practically shot daggers at me with his eyes.

Get your shit together.

Slowly I lifted my gaze, feeling the heavy pendants of the crown sway slightly while my braids slid across my tits again, reminding me of themselves with that soft, irritating touch.

“I... am Theodora Palaiologina,” I continued more steadily, though inside I was boiling, “daughter of Emperor Constantine Dragases...”

‘Daughter,’ for fuck’s sake.

The word lodged itself in my throat, but I forced it out anyway, feeling my fingers tighten beneath the folds of my skirt for a moment.

“...and rightful heir of the house. I am honored to welcome you all... and especially my future husband, the noble Andronikos Laskaris.”

God! Did I seriously just say that? And they all heard it! What the actual fuck! How am I supposed to live after this?!

The hall burst into applause louder than before, and I felt blood rush into my cheeks. Inside, everything twisted and churned so violently it felt as though the world itself had begun spinning around me, just like it had a month ago when I first woke up here in this body and collapsed into a goddamn faint.

I shook my head like I’d just downed a shot of something strong. The crown shifted slightly, the heavy earrings chimed softly, and my braids slid over my tits again, brushing against my cleavage. I hate it. I hate all of this. Am I really going to have to live out the rest of this “Theodora’s” life before I can finally return?!