Concubines are quite common. It’s expected that you would pick up one or two to keep your bed warm. You were never opposed to it but you also never found any of the potential concubines that your advisors paraded in front of you appealing. They were all aristocrats, all with parents who were more than willing to sell their children to you for honour.

For years you went without a concubine. For years you heard rumours that would whisper about why you’ve never taken a concubine. You never bothered to clear the air, your personal choices are of no importance to anyone else. You could go your whole life without a concubine and it wouldn’t affect your ability to rule.

Then you met Simon. Well met isn’t quite the right word. You saw Simon during one of your travels and knew you had to have him. He’s strong from manual labour, has scars of unknown origins, he seems like the last person who should be a concubine. You know your advisors won’t approve of your choice but you don’t care.

When your travels concluded and you were back home in your castle you sent a small number of knights and one of your most trusted advisors to bring Simon to you. It took a few days and it’s likely some of it was spent just convincing Simon to go willingly and that he won’t lose all of his autonomy as a concubine. Having someone who relied on you for everything would just impede your ability to rule.

You receive word that he’s in the castle as your maids are mid way through dressing him in robes that would meet your standards, though they had underestimated his size. Either that or they thought you were exaggerating because when you walked in his robes weren't closed all the way, they couldn’t close all the way.

Simon’s anxious energy is obvious in the way he shifts his weight, the way his throat bobs as he swallows thickly. He bows, not as lowly as he should but he’s not sure the robes would stay together at all if he were to bow fully. The silk is soft against his skin, delicate, fragile. He’s not yet sure how he feels about it.

“Your majesty.” He murmurs, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I hope everything is to your liking.” He adds, parroting what your maids had told him to say. The formal language feels odd on his tongue and he’s sure it sounded just as awkward as he feels.