Gilbert's smile turned a little hard for a moment, before it eased into his normal wolfish expression. He suddenly pulled out of her completely and stopped moving, chuckling as Alice whined in frustration and tried to move. His hands on her hips stopped her.
"What the fuck, Gilbert!" she cursed.
"Ah, ah, ah," Gilbert warned, enjoying his dominance over her, even if it was momentary and rare. "Let's decide on a name so it's all cleared away before we get down to serious fucking."
"Fine! Fine!" Alice growled in frustrated lust, desperate for the orgasm she'd been so close to. "P-Peter. We'll call him Peter! I promise! Now fuck me!"
Gilbert gladly slipped back inside her, a long smooth glide that had her whimpering in delight. "O-oh! Gilbert! Yes, fuck me! Fuck me!" she mewled, pleasure undoing her usual control. "Fuuuuuck me! So good, fuck me so good, Gilberrrt..."
Gilbert, as promised, settled down for a proper fucking, ramming into her faster and harder with each thrust. She squealed as she orgasmed again, thrashing in his arms and moaning as she felt his seed spurt inside her.
Later, of course, she'd punish him for that little stunt, but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed it when he sometimes took charge. It may have been that she enjoyed punishing him, too.
***
In any case, it didn't matter what she'd promised: when the child was born, one bright summer day, she named him Alfred - Alfred after herself, Alice - and both Francis and Gilbert had to be content with that.
They said baby Alfred looked much like his older brother, Matthew - which he did. He had golden-blond hair and blue eyes, like Matthew - and like Francis. So they congratulated Francis on a second son, a spare for his heir, and one so like Francis too, how very nice! Francis's father, the old Duke, was quite pleased, and sent presents as grand as the ones that he'd sent for the birth of firstborn Matthew.
Although Alice had named the baby Alfred, using her own name-syllables and an ancient name of her own house, she had let his second name be for her husband. Alfred Francis Bonnefoy, they intoned at his naming-rite, anointing his forehead with the sacred oil. At most naming-rites, the priest would then trace the child's name into the earth and the parents would wash it away with water. But as Alfred was a nobleman's son, his name was carved with chisel and mallet into a great marble slab - the stone of House Bonnefoy, with names of illustrious ancestors from hundreds of years ago preserved for eternity on its surface. Francis, beaming with pride (for himself, mostly - what a virile man he was! But Alice had done well too.) stepped forward with rare wine and poured it over the new-carved letters, inwardly mourning the fine vintage that no one would get to taste, but understanding the need.
Baby Alfred, safe in his nanny's arms, yawned hugely and fell asleep.
In the back of the temple, crowded in among his fellow servants - most of whom were agitating for the feast to follow, where even villagers and servants would get to partake - Gilbert watched, his eyes gleaming with amused satisfaction.
***
As was usual with the noble class, Alice and Francis had very little to do with Alfred's caretaking. Baby Alfred had his own set of rooms, almost as large as his brother Matthew's but not located so centrally or so near to Francis and Alice's master suites. Which suited Gilbert fine - Alfred was closer to the servants' wing, and it was easier for Gilbert to visit his son.
For his son Alfred was - Gilbert was sure of it. The blond hair and blue eyes were, if one looked quite close, not quite the same as the Bonnefoy standards. The gold was a little paler, the blue a little darker - the exact colors, in fact, as the eyes and hair of Gilbert's younger brother Ludwig. Little Alfred definitely had some Beilschmidt blood in him. And if people proclaimed that he had a Bonnefoy nose, or a Bonnefoy chin, well, that wasn't that surprising either. Gilbert's eyes flashed a bit when he thought of why.
This little Beilschmidt was going to enjoy all the benefits of being a Bonnefoy. Gilbert snickered as he looked around the nursery, gloating over the rich and luxuriant materials used in every single object. As second-born, Alfred was bound for a life in the army - a life Gilbert had once yearned for. But unless you had rich parents to buy you a position, being a soldier was a ticket to years of suffering and an early grave. So Gilbert had shelved his dreams of heroics and soldierly success. But now his son would be an officer, and Gilbert would make sure he was the damn best officer the army had ever seen.
Right after Alfred's naming rite, Francis departed for the capital. Alice watched him and his convoy leave from her tower-room. She knew he was leaving to see his mistresses - he had five which she knew of, none of whom knew about each other and only three of whom knew about his wife - and she felt a pang of annoyance. Not that she minded his extramarital sexual escapades - she knew he was scrupulous about keeping cleanly and never feared catching something from him, and she certainly didn't care about his exclusivity. He was a good lover but she preferred Gilbert's rough passion to Francis's practiced smoothness. But she found it annoying that his affairs only got him leering accolades from his peers, whereas she had to keep her own trysts silent and secret.
No matter. She dismissed the pangs of annoyance as she turned from the window. The world was what it was - he was what he was, a rich and priveleged lord - and she was what she was, wife and lover and witch.
She'd cast the same spells, made the same ointments, as when she'd had Matthew. Already her body was completely recovered from the ordeal of childbirth. And she wanted Gilbert to fill her newly-healed entrance with his manhood. So she twitched her fingers and muttered a word of power, heading to the bed as magic sparkled briefly over her hands.
***
In Alfred's room, Gilbert raised his head suddenly, feeling the glyphs carved invisibly onto his tongue start to tingle. Alice was calling for him. Long experience had taught him what such a summons usually meant, and he could feel himself growing aroused. He cast one last, surprisingly tender look at the baby slumbering in his crib before he slipped silently out of the nursery, trotting purposefully for the tower.
Yes, Gilbert thought as he neared Alice's bedchambers, his erection a visible bulge in his breeches, life was good.
***
Years later, as he watched Alfred returning home on a prancing white horse, smiling a confident grin that Gilbert recognized from his own mirror and waving to the crowd of cheering on-lookers who had come to worship the returning war-hero, Gilbert nodded and repeated his thought. Life had been very good. Life was still good. And if all his plans continued to their triumphant conclusion, life would be excellent for his son and all future little Beilschmidt descendants.
Ermaygerd. Gilbo and Luddy are bastard children of Francis' father. Also, is Mattie really Francis' kid? Or are we not sure about anything anymore? Btw, I was the original question!anon.
I couldn't find a cool way to incorporate it into the story, so I'll just spill all the background details here -
Gilbert is a bastard son of Francis's father; Ludwig is not.
Mattie is really Francis's.
The reason why Francis and Gilbert aren't friends anymore, when they were close in childhood, is Francis finding out about Gilbert's parentage. Gilbert found out later on.
They only found out after they'd already had sex.
Alfred is going to become the next Duke, and it's possible he inherited his mother's skills.
Gil and Franny did the do? So that's why Gilbo said that... Aha, I knew it, so Mattie's the delicate heir to Alfred's headstrong spare, after all Gil did say life will be good for all future Beilschmidt descendants. (Kinda like how Arthur was to Henry VIII?) Also, I shouldn't have asked that in the first place, I mean the title is "Cuckoo's Child" for fig's sake. I should have realised it pointed to Al's real paternity.
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Cuckoo's Child (Part 2b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 03:02 pm (UTC)(link)Gilbert's smile turned a little hard for a moment, before it eased into his normal wolfish expression. He suddenly pulled out of her completely and stopped moving, chuckling as Alice whined in frustration and tried to move. His hands on her hips stopped her.
"What the fuck, Gilbert!" she cursed.
"Ah, ah, ah," Gilbert warned, enjoying his dominance over her, even if it was momentary and rare. "Let's decide on a name so it's all cleared away before we get down to serious fucking."
"Fine! Fine!" Alice growled in frustrated lust, desperate for the orgasm she'd been so close to. "P-Peter. We'll call him Peter! I promise! Now fuck me!"
Gilbert gladly slipped back inside her, a long smooth glide that had her whimpering in delight. "O-oh! Gilbert! Yes, fuck me! Fuck me!" she mewled, pleasure undoing her usual control. "Fuuuuuck me! So good, fuck me so good, Gilberrrt..."
Gilbert, as promised, settled down for a proper fucking, ramming into her faster and harder with each thrust. She squealed as she orgasmed again, thrashing in his arms and moaning as she felt his seed spurt inside her.
Later, of course, she'd punish him for that little stunt, but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed it when he sometimes took charge. It may have been that she enjoyed punishing him, too.
***
In any case, it didn't matter what she'd promised: when the child was born, one bright summer day, she named him Alfred - Alfred after herself, Alice - and both Francis and Gilbert had to be content with that.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-27 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)Yay baby Alfred!
Re: Cuckoo's Child (Part 2b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-05-28 12:59 am (UTC)(link)And I really like the way you write Gilbert - the voice is great.
Cuckoo's Child (Part 3/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 05:17 pm (UTC)(link)Although Alice had named the baby Alfred, using her own name-syllables and an ancient name of her own house, she had let his second name be for her husband. Alfred Francis Bonnefoy, they intoned at his naming-rite, anointing his forehead with the sacred oil. At most naming-rites, the priest would then trace the child's name into the earth and the parents would wash it away with water. But as Alfred was a nobleman's son, his name was carved with chisel and mallet into a great marble slab - the stone of House Bonnefoy, with names of illustrious ancestors from hundreds of years ago preserved for eternity on its surface. Francis, beaming with pride (for himself, mostly - what a virile man he was! But Alice had done well too.) stepped forward with rare wine and poured it over the new-carved letters, inwardly mourning the fine vintage that no one would get to taste, but understanding the need.
Baby Alfred, safe in his nanny's arms, yawned hugely and fell asleep.
In the back of the temple, crowded in among his fellow servants - most of whom were agitating for the feast to follow, where even villagers and servants would get to partake - Gilbert watched, his eyes gleaming with amused satisfaction.
***
As was usual with the noble class, Alice and Francis had very little to do with Alfred's caretaking. Baby Alfred had his own set of rooms, almost as large as his brother Matthew's but not located so centrally or so near to Francis and Alice's master suites. Which suited Gilbert fine - Alfred was closer to the servants' wing, and it was easier for Gilbert to visit his son.
For his son Alfred was - Gilbert was sure of it. The blond hair and blue eyes were, if one looked quite close, not quite the same as the Bonnefoy standards. The gold was a little paler, the blue a little darker - the exact colors, in fact, as the eyes and hair of Gilbert's younger brother Ludwig. Little Alfred definitely had some Beilschmidt blood in him. And if people proclaimed that he had a Bonnefoy nose, or a Bonnefoy chin, well, that wasn't that surprising either. Gilbert's eyes flashed a bit when he thought of why.
This little Beilschmidt was going to enjoy all the benefits of being a Bonnefoy. Gilbert snickered as he looked around the nursery, gloating over the rich and luxuriant materials used in every single object. As second-born, Alfred was bound for a life in the army - a life Gilbert had once yearned for. But unless you had rich parents to buy you a position, being a soldier was a ticket to years of suffering and an early grave. So Gilbert had shelved his dreams of heroics and soldierly success. But now his son would be an officer, and Gilbert would make sure he was the damn best officer the army had ever seen.
Cuckoo's Child (Part 3b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)Right after Alfred's naming rite, Francis departed for the capital. Alice watched him and his convoy leave from her tower-room. She knew he was leaving to see his mistresses - he had five which she knew of, none of whom knew about each other and only three of whom knew about his wife - and she felt a pang of annoyance. Not that she minded his extramarital sexual escapades - she knew he was scrupulous about keeping cleanly and never feared catching something from him, and she certainly didn't care about his exclusivity. He was a good lover but she preferred Gilbert's rough passion to Francis's practiced smoothness. But she found it annoying that his affairs only got him leering accolades from his peers, whereas she had to keep her own trysts silent and secret.
No matter. She dismissed the pangs of annoyance as she turned from the window. The world was what it was - he was what he was, a rich and priveleged lord - and she was what she was, wife and lover and witch.
She'd cast the same spells, made the same ointments, as when she'd had Matthew. Already her body was completely recovered from the ordeal of childbirth. And she wanted Gilbert to fill her newly-healed entrance with his manhood. So she twitched her fingers and muttered a word of power, heading to the bed as magic sparkled briefly over her hands.
***
In Alfred's room, Gilbert raised his head suddenly, feeling the glyphs carved invisibly onto his tongue start to tingle. Alice was calling for him. Long experience had taught him what such a summons usually meant, and he could feel himself growing aroused. He cast one last, surprisingly tender look at the baby slumbering in his crib before he slipped silently out of the nursery, trotting purposefully for the tower.
Yes, Gilbert thought as he neared Alice's bedchambers, his erection a visible bulge in his breeches, life was good.
***
Years later, as he watched Alfred returning home on a prancing white horse, smiling a confident grin that Gilbert recognized from his own mirror and waving to the crowd of cheering on-lookers who had come to worship the returning war-hero, Gilbert nodded and repeated his thought. Life had been very good. Life was still good. And if all his plans continued to their triumphant conclusion, life would be excellent for his son and all future little Beilschmidt descendants.
***
fin
Re: Cuckoo's Child (Part 3b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)But seriously, who is it?Authoranon
(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 12:11 pm (UTC)(link)It's GilbertThe next question is - why does it make sense for Alfred to still have Bonnefoy features, then? >:D
Re: Authoranon
(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)Wouldn't surprise me! After reading stuff about how many bastards nobles made, I bet a lot more people are related without knowing it.
Love the story, it was very cute!
Re: Authoranon
(Anonymous) 2013-06-05 05:15 am (UTC)(link)Also, is Mattie really Francis' kid?
Or are we not sure about anything anymore?
Btw, I was the original question!anon.
author-anon
(Anonymous) 2013-06-05 01:58 pm (UTC)(link)Gilbert is a bastard son of Francis's father; Ludwig is not.
Mattie is really Francis's.
The reason why Francis and Gilbert aren't friends anymore, when they were close in childhood, is Francis finding out about Gilbert's parentage. Gilbert found out later on.
They only found out after they'd already had sex.
Alfred is going to become the next Duke, and it's possible he inherited his mother's skills.
Re: author-anon
(Anonymous) 2013-06-05 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)So that's why Gilbo said that...
Aha, I knew it, so Mattie's the delicate heir to Alfred's headstrong spare, after all Gil did say life will be good for all future Beilschmidt descendants. (Kinda like how Arthur was to Henry VIII?)
Also, I shouldn't have asked that in the first place, I mean the title is "Cuckoo's Child" for fig's sake. I should have realised it pointed to Al's real paternity.
(Anonymous) 2013-06-06 03:02 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Cuckoo's Child (Part 3b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Cuckoo's Child (Part 3b/3)
(Anonymous) 2013-06-05 01:59 pm (UTC)(link)