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“Wake up, sleepy-head,” a musical voice giggled.
I opened my crusted-over eyes to see the blurry image of a bronze figure standing over me. This hybrid was fully-female, and her flesh was tattooed with calligraphy and chains that wrapped her like inked bondage. The parts of her that were clothed, were clothed in leather straps that squeezed her large breasts, crossed her tummy, encircled her thighs, and ended in garters that became fishnet stockings. She wore a feathered butterfly masquerade mask, and her big blues shone alight from their depths.
“Hello, Soraya.” I groaned.
“Hi!” She said brightly.
“I heard you were a stuck-up bitch.”
She pouted her lips. “Who told you that?”
“Those lying bastards!” she tittered. “I guess I can be kind of… prickly when it’s business time, but when it’s party time, well, I’m the sweetest little slut this side of the Knife River!” She wiggled excitedly, “And in case you didn’t know, it’s party time!”
The faint roar of the crowd sounded above me, the rumbling of a hundred-thousand feet stomping in the stands. I rolled over in my bed. I couldn’t—I was already bound in a leather straight-jacket, my arms trapped behind me. My legs were opened in a spreader bar that held my knees apart, which meant I’d have to either waddle or crawl to get anywhere.
“I put it on you while you were asleep.” Soraya whispered, “I have so much practice getting into it, that you didn’t even stir.”
“How about getting out of it?”
Her grin turned wild. “Impossible.”
I nodded. “Well then, who will I be honoring today?”
“Those who are under my domain. The accountants, bankers, and tradesmen of the city.”
“Huh. An easy day then.”
She laughed brightly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I’m afraid not.” She sat beside me on the bed, and put a hand on my shoulder. Her hand was shaking wildly.
I looked at her, perplexed. “Afraid of public speaking?”
“No, not that.” She said, gnawing on her lip. “It’s just… well, you know that Eva and I have a special relationship, and she’s always pressuring me to test myself. After she had so much fun with you, I got a little jealous. You did things that I’d never done before, and you made it through.”
“Yavara was healing me.”
“I know!” She said, “And it never occurred to me that I could use magical healing! For a masochist like me, magical healing is… well, it’s a game-changer, isn’t it?!” Her smile was so manic that I thought her teeth would shatter, “I mean, you’re a certified sadist; think of the possibilities!”
I let out a long, slow breath through my nose. “What do you have planned for me today, Soraya?”
“Planned for us, Your Highness.” She said giddily, “Everything you do, I will do too!”
“And…” I closed my eyes, and took another deep breath, “…what do you have planned for us?”
She leaned toward me with her excited smile peeled over her red lips. “Have you ever seen a crucifixion?”
I did not watch the spectacle today, but I heard the duet of screams that came from the arena. I looked at the program, and cringed. Soraya’s proclivities had gone from kinky, to medieval. Yavara would be using a lot of healing spells today.
Arbor was smoking a cigarette in my bed, lounging in her spectacular purple nudity, her wings draping over the bedside. “I have thought about what you said,” she said.
She shrugged. “Alkandi made a mistake, but so much of life is born from mistakes. Children are made by chance even if they are planned. I do not see why you should fret.”
“Because I know Alkandi. I’ve known her in more than twenty bodies, across centuries and millennium, and what Gloria found proves it.” Leveria’s horrific screech cut through the air, and I closed my eyes. “It was supposed to be her, Arbor. The way she talked, the way her face moved, the way she looked at me. It was supposed to be her.”
“But it is not, Zander. She is Leveria Tiadoa, and Yavara carries Alkandi’s life within her, so why worry? Leveria is not the Dark Queen, has not been the Dark Queen, and will never be the Dark Queen. Yavara is all of those things. The opinions of Gloria Titus hardly lend the claim any more credence to me.”
I tugged restlessly at my beard. “It was supposed to be her.”
“Did you not say that you once had a conversation with Leveria through the mirror? Why did you not realize who she was then?”
“Because I wasn’t looking.”
Arbor laughed. “Brock’s parting words had their intended effect, I see. You are tortured by doubt. Come now, Zander.”
“She saw right through me in that conversation.” I muttered, “Just like Alkandi did all those years ago when I first met her, when I was cowering behind that bookcase in the temple. Yavara has never seen more than I showed her. Yavara doesn’t even know herself.”
“Yavara is a misguided woman. Leveria is an evil one. What would Leveria be with Yavara’s power? Even more megalomaniacal.”
“She wouldn’t have had Yavara’s power. She would’ve been held in check by her own limitations, and Leveria knows her limitations well. Yavara doesn’t think she has any.”
Arbor inhaled the cigarette until it burned to her fingers. She let the embers scorch her, and she hissed, arching her back in the bed. “I just tested my limitations, Zander. Now I know I find pleasure in the pain of burning. Perhaps I will push my limits further.”
I shook my head. “You should be terrified, Arbor. I thought I knew who I was dealing with, but I have no clue who Yavara is.”
She examined the burn on her flesh. “She may be ageless, but she is still mortal, and I do not feel mortal terror. She might conquer the entire world, but in ten thousand years’ time, I will have nearly forgotten her.” She eyed me contentedly, “But I will never forget you, Zander.”
I smiled back, and did not speak on the subject again. Arbor had made it clear that she would not help me, and I should not trust her with anymore secrets.
I made love to my officers the night before. I didn’t really enjoy it, but I found some carnal satisfaction in making them scream when they came, and I liked the awe in their faces when they looked at me. It was important to nurture their loyalty. It was also important to make sure Esmerelda heard their orgasmic screams so that she knew who the army was loyal to. After I’d sucked my fingers clean of the last woman, I meandered up the ridge to the orc camp. There, I had some real fun.
God, it felt like ages since I’d had a cock inside me. I was a glutton of men, devouring with every hole and hand, wriggling between muscular, stinking bodies as I inhaled desperately for air through my nose. There were over a hundred orcs, and I’d drained every single one of them in two hours. I was left in a puddle of hot spunk, my holes yawning and quivering, my body pasted with seed. They tried to pull me out of the filth, but I shooed them away, and savored the grotesque bath that nourished my flesh with life.
“Commander,” one of the orcs growled, “you have a visitor from the elven camp.”
I opened my crusted eyes, and gazed upon Esmerelda. I smiled weakly. “I do so love that shocked look on your face.”
“Every time you disappear, I find you with a fresh surprise,” she replied.
“I keep life interesting.”
“It’s not a good thing.”
I waved away the orcs, and they stepped back with suspicion in their eyes. They each outweighed Esmerelda by at least two-hundred pounds, but she held their gazes admirably until they slunk into the darkness. I peeled myself off the ground with a sigh, but I didn’t bother closing my legs. I’d already caught Esmerelda peeking with horrified fascination at what had been done to me, and it excited me to see the reaction.
“Why did you brave wargs and orcs to come up here?” I yawned, “I’ll be down there in just a little bit.”
“I wanted to see if they were truly loyal to you. If they attacked me, I had given orders for the army to disperse.”
“Hmm. I wonder if those orders would’ve been followed?”
Esmerelda scowled, and stepped up to me. Her boots squelched in the spilled cum, and she crouched to my level. “It’s one day until Bentius,” she whispered, “and I still don’t know if you’re going to kill me.”
I raised my brows. “Wouldn’t I have done that already?”
“It would be much more convenient for me to die on the battlefield.”
I peeled a strand of stiff hair from my forehead. “And then what would I do? I’m an Alkandran, Esmerelda. No Highlander will ever follow me.”
“Says the general of a Highland rebellion, and the lover of at least six of my officers.”
“My officers, Esmerelda. I recruited them.” I smiled crookedly at her, “And lonely, desperate, stupid women are very easy to persuade. Bentius is filled with stubborn smart fuckers like you, and they hate Alkandrans more than anything. I’m no threat to you.”
She examined my compromised state, and the nonchalance in which I existed within it. “That first night you were here, you talked about Alkandra. Anna recited your story to me yesterday. Is it all true, the things you said?”
Her brow furrowed. “You asked me what kind of ruler I want to be. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot. I want to be a ruler like you, Adrianna, but… not like you.”
I laughed. “I get what you mean.”
“How do I do it?”
I smiled ruefully. “I could rule Alkandra that way, because that was the way Alkandra wanted to be ruled. The Highlands aren’t like that.”
“There must be a way.”
I shrugged, “If there’s anything history has taught us, it’s that the unthinkable will happen. All it takes is the right person to do it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you think I’m that person?”
“I have no idea,” I smiled earnestly at her, “but I want to find out.”
She actually smiled back, and I felt bad. Not because I was going to betray her, but because it was so easy for me to do it. She must’ve known at some level that there was no way she was getting out of this alive, much less with the crown of Bentius, but she jettisoned all that rationality for the comfort of faith.
Oh, Esmerelda, I thought, there’s a graveyard filled with people who put their faith in me.
FIELD MARSHAL SHORDIAN
Cavalry General Krakis had been giving me his report from South Fort, distracting me from thoughts of my impending long and boring retirement spent in insufferable luxury. After the bloodshed was finally over, I’d settle into my chateau, and become a connoisseur of wine. I always thought it was funny how the amount of money spent on alcoholism was the determining factor in whether it was pathetic, or cultured. A homeless man chugging cheap vodka from a can was more honest than a noble vomiting wine all over his fine silks, and frankly, the former somehow seemed more appealing to me, but alas, I had a family who looked to me, and a name to uphold until it was finally etched into a gravestone.
A disturbance interrupted me from my musings. There was a messenger boy beside me, and he was breathless when he ran to my horse. By the suit of his house, he must’ve run nearly the entire length of the column to get to me, which meant his message was from the rear. He huffed and puffed, struggling to get his words out. Eventually, he gave up, and just held up the message.
It was a dead eagle, an orc messenger bird by the pattern on its belly. One from the Hektini tribe, if my taxonomy was correct, which meant it was likely one of Gorlok’s—or the ‘Night Wolf’ as he now called himself. It wasn’t rare for us to shoot down his birds. He had scouts prowling all over the countryside, and they were in constant communication. It certainly wasn’t worth bringing to my attention. That was, until I noticed the makeshift cowl that had been placed over the eagle’s head. A ranger cowl? I took the bird from the messenger’s hands, and pulled out the scroll that was in its claws.
Field Marshal Peter Shordian,
I would like to offer a belated congratulations for your promotion. I would’ve sent you a letter earlier, but I was rather occupied with my new duties as governess of Alkandra, and I didn’t want to put you in an awkward situation. I no longer have to worry about placing you in such a predicament, as I am no longer the governess of Alkandra. I have been exiled as a traitor for my actions in service to Queen Leveria Tiadoa while I held office. My loyalties to the Highlands never wavered. You are one of the few people who know me well enough to know that I speak the truth. Whatever stories you’ve heard about me as governess are all true; I am a hybrid elf, and I act accordingly. I cannot be anything but what I am. I never stopped being a ranger.
You may wonder why you’re receiving this message from Gorlok Hektini’s eagle. It is because I killed him and his dog. By orc tradition, that makes me the outfit leader. Through circumstances I rather not explain in detail, I also became the military commander of Esmerelda’s rebellion, and have joined their forces—an unlikely alliance, I know, but desperation makes strange bedfellows. I am now marching both armies to Bentius. We will get there a day before you do, even if you ride at full-tilt. The orcs and wargs will assault the walls, and while they are pinned fighting Ternias’s watchmen, the rebels will hit the orcs in the back, and massacre them before the citizenry of Bentius. The grateful people will fling open the gates for Esmerelda and her rebels, and from there, we will storm the castle, and kill all the living nobles and King Lucas Ternias. This is inevitable.
You are a man of great honor, Peter. I was once such a man as well, but I am no longer. It is why I can speak so plainly about my treachery, and also so candidly about what must be done. King Ternias is a weak man, and his reign will lead to disaster. Though I believe Esmerelda is a good woman, she is a foolish ideologue leading a doomed cause. She actually believes that simply taking the castle will make her queen—or whatever title she wants to call herself. I know that you would never kneel to a rebel. You would besiege the castle, and drag her out to be executed, along with all the other rebels. I will save you the trouble. You can say they all died valiantly fighting the corrupt King Ternias if you wish, or you can tell the truth; I recommend the former. A king doesn’t need to be an honest king to be a good king, and you will be king. The Noble Court has already been destroyed, and when I kill the last living noble, I will end the line of succession. The throne will be open to whoever can claim it. You have the loyalty of the army, and that is the only power worth a damn. This country needs stability, and you will provide it. This country also needs an ambassador to Alkandra, and I can think of no greater candidate than myself.
Think on it, Peter. When you next see me, you will be shocked by what you see, but remember who I am, and what I have done for our nation. Know that I have sacrificed everything, and I mean EVERYTHING for the Highlands, and I will continue to serve. It’s all I know how to do.
With much respect and admiration,
Adrianna Alkandra, formerly Head-ranger Thomas Adarian.
I folded the letter, and frowned. I reached for my communication’s mirror, ***********ed King Ternias’s sigil, and stopped. I looked back at the folded piece of paper in my hand. I tore it into a thousand pieces, and scattered the pieces into the wind.
“Sir?” The messenger asked, “Orders?”
“Carry on.” I said, and eased back into my saddle. Thomas Adarian—or Adrianna—was correct on many fronts; there was no way I could stop her, and there was no reason for me to. Ternias was a weak man, and weak men in power were the most dangerous men in the world. And while my ambitions were never as lofty as the throne itself, I wouldn’t toss it away if it fell into my lap. She was wrong about one thing, however: I wasn’t a day away from Bentius. I was a very long way from Bentius.
The meeting with Feractian’s barons had gone well. They had important connections within the city, mostly in the mercantile districts. Ternias had firm control over the banking and investment class, but he’d overlooked the workers, shop owners and tradesmen that operated a ward lower. Those people had thrived under the international trade Leveria and her father had brought in, and Feractian’s barons twisted the narrative in such a way as to blame Ternias for the lack of ships in Bentius’s harbor.
That night, I had thanked the barons for their service in the only way I could. Mom had to sleep in the guestroom across the courtyard, but I’d kept the drapes open so that she could see me in my element. Six men at once was a treat to be savored, and I savored it all night long. As before, I was the goddess and the whore, playing effortlessly through dominance, submission, sadism and masochism. I never had less than three cocks inside me at a time, and the only hole I ever left open was my mouth, and that was only so that I could either give harsh commands or beg for forgiveness depending on who I was talking to. At one point, I managed to fit all six of them inside me at once, which required much preparation and a lot of stretching. At another point, I managed to fit myself into all six of them, which required ample foot dexterity, and an expert extension of my tongue. Both experiences were sublime, and by the end of the night, I was left wonderfully exhausted. I didn’t even have to think to fall asleep.
When I came down for breakfast the next morning, Mom was waiting with a plate full of eggs, and a mouth full of questions.
“How did you get your back to bend like that?” She asked, and attempted the maneuver on her stool. “You had your pelvis tilted forward—one man in your… and the other two in your… I’m not actually sure what was where.”
“One in the pussy, two in the ass.”
Lady Jonias slammed her plate on the table, and left with a huff.
“Two in the ass?” Mom gave me an appraising look, “I’ve only ever managed two fingers in there. How the hell did you get two men?!”
“Well, you start with one finger.” I said, and extended my forefinger, “Then you go to two, then three, then four, then five,” I made a fist, “and you just got to stretch it out. After that, two men is no problem.”
She nodded, processing the information. “And it feels better that way?”
“It’s pure bliss. The more, the merrier.”
She readjusted herself on the stool, trying to mimic the position. “So, you had one man in your pussy, two in your ass, and they were… here, here, and here.”
“What the hell did you do with all their legs?”
“Two of them overlapped their thighs and pressed their cocks together. The third sat perpendicular to them like so,” I mimicked the motion, “and he was the one who was in my pussy. I just eased myself down, and enjoyed the ride.”
“Uh-huh,” Mom said studiously, “but that doesn’t answer this question. So, you’ve got man number four sticking it between your tits, and man number five is getting the full attention of both your hands. Now, your back is like this,” she arched her back as much as she could, “but with man number one and man number two in your back door, man number six can’t possibly reach your mouth no matter how far back you tilt your head.”
“Are you sure?” I grinned, and readjusted myself on the stool. With my crotch bearing my weight, I extended my legs backward, curved my spine, and touched the back of my head with the tips of my toes.
Mom was in awe of me. “Where the hell did you learn that?”
“Ranger school.” I giggeld, “Life as a virgin lesbian in the military was a never-ending quest to try and lick my own clit.”
Mom smirked. “I bet it’s much easier now.”
“Now I have other people to do it for me.” I grinned back. I pulled my silk gown up my body, the liquid fabric revealing my knees, then my bronze thighs, then springing past my hips to display my wobbling cock. Mother watched me with keen interest as I made a show of grabbing a frosted donut from the platter, and placing it around my cock.
“If I just sat here and did nothing, you would feel so stupid right now.” Mom said.
“But you’re not going to do that.” I moaned as I slid the donut down my shaft, the glaze coating my cock deliciously, “Because it looks too tasty.”
Mom eyed the meal with obvious hunger, then drew her black-rimmed eyes up to me. She wore a scandalous amount of makeup this morning, and the rouge on her cheeks made her look like an absolute doll. The mauve lipstick made her look like a whore. She licked those lips, teasing their texture by the way her wet tongue pressed into the pliant flesh. Then she dropped from the stool, got into a crouch, and began to crawl over to me.
“You always told me that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” I giggled, and wrapped my legs into the bars of the stool so that my pelvis jutted forward.
“It would be hypocritical of me to waste such an important meal.” Mom whispered, and ascended my stool, her hands pushing my knees further apart so that she could get her shoulders between them. She ran her eyes up my twitching, glazed length, then drew her ravenous gaze to me. “But, Sweetie, this isn’t a balanced breakfast; it’s all sugar.”
“There’s some protein in the center.” I squeaked; my words pitched high with need. I could feel her sweet breath caressing the throbbing length of me, whispering of the gentleness her mouth could provide. My cock bounced with desire, and I whined when she would not attend to it.
“Crying won’t get you what you want, Sweetie.” Mom smirked crookedly, “You’re old enough to use your words.”
“Please suck my cock, Mommy!” I gasped, wiggling on the stool, my hands squeezing the seat as my back arched with need. One of my shoulder straps fell, and my bodice draped away to expose one heaving breast, the nipple so hard that it was throbbing on its own.
Mom placed a loving kiss on the tip of my cock, and whispered, “It turns me on so much to know that you need me like that.”
“I need you so bad right now!” I mewled, “Please!”
She quirked a brow. “Just… please?”
“Pretty-please with sugar on top, Mommy?”
“Mmm, there’s too much sugar already, Sweetie. You need some milk.” Mom giggled, and brushed the straps from her gown. They cascaded off her shoulders to reveal her milky breasts, the pink nipples erect and moist. She pulled them up onto my lap, pillowing my shaft in their soft warmth, coercing a groan of pleasure from my mouth. She pressed them around my length, squishing them together, rubbing some of the sticky glaze into her delectable cleavage. Her mauve lips followed after, and with her sapphire irises topping her heavily-lidded gaze, my mommy took my cock into her mouth.
“Oh fuck!” I whined.
She smiled around my shaft, and mouthed, “Language, Sweetie.”
I laughed back breathily, “You’re going to lecture me about having a dirty mouth right now?”
“Mmm,” she hummed, rotating her lips, her tongue swirling around me to lick every bit of glaze off, “so dirty.”
After that, I was at a loss for words. I kept my hands behind me the whole time, gripping the seat with straight arms, not daring to impede on my mommy’s nurturing lust. With her breasts securely nestled between my thighs, she snuck one hand beneath them to find the moist slit just below my cock. I hissed as she penetrated me with three fingers, and I whined when she supinated her wrist to curl her digits inside me, pressing against my ceiling, massaging that spot deep within. I would pleasure her afterward, but for now, she would do the work for the both of us. She obviously didn’t mind.
Mommy moaned around her slurping lips, gaging my reaction from lazily-lidded eyes, smiling with satisfaction and empowerment when I reacted to her whim. I loved being her little girl when we were intimate, and she loved being the doting mother, and so we fell easily into the roles. I pitched my voice high and inflected it with helpless need, and she purred and cooed with nurturing low tenors, creating a strange mixture of lust and maternal love within me.
The doughnut around my base began to crumble and fall into her squishing breasts, smooshing into sugary glazed streaks over her domes. Her nose and cheeks were covered in the glaze, and she paused periodically to lick it clean, drawing that tongue of hers slowly around her lush mouth before sliding it beneath my cock, and nestling me into her bed of plush love. The doughnut broke completely, and she took me all the way in, staying down at my base, slurping the glazed sugar from it, rotating her lips so that her chin pressed into the succulent mammary fat below her. I mouthed helplessly, gripping my stool with white knuckles, flexing my legs against the bars that I braced them in. All the while, her fingers prodded my insides, the bottom knuckles stretching my slit open as the fingertips pressed against my weak spot, making me sway atop my precarious perch.
“Mmm,” Mom moaned as she drew her lips up my shaft, then popped them free, “my baby-girl’s so close to coming, isn’t she?”
“Yes, Mommy!” I whined.
“Is my baby-girl gonna come from both her dirty places?”
“Yes!” I whimpered, wiggling my hips in need, trapped internally between the conflicting pleasures that were growing.
She beamed up at me. “Do you like it when Mommy takes care of you?”
“Ooo, I like it so much!” I cried, “Oh god, Mommy, I’m so close!”
“Mmm… such impatience…” Mom cooed with a dangerous smile, “I raised you better than this.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough.” She purred, lowering her lips to my tip, “You’re well-past sorry. I brought you up to be a good girl, but you turned out so, so bad.”
“I can be good, I promise!” I whined through clenched teeth, her fingers working me into a frenzy.
“Hmm… no, I don’t think you can.” Mom pursed her lips, and blew gently on my tip, “You’re a bad girl now, baby, but you can still be Mommy’s good little slut.”
I pressed my teeth into my lower lip, and inhaled sharply through my nose. “I’ll be your good little slut, Mommy.” I hissed.
“That’s right.” Mom whispered, and drew her tongue through my frothing tip, “Now, are you going to be a good little slut, and come from your naughty little cock and pussy?”
“Yes please, Mommy!” I screamed, teetering on the very brink, stuck in the tortuous spot between anticipation and release.
“That’s my baby-girl.” Mom purred, “That’s my good little baby slut.”
She pressed inside me, enveloped my cock in her tits, and divided her milky breasts with her mouth when she consumed me to the base. Her lips stretched from her mouth with her suction, drawing her cheeks gaunt. Her blue eyes stared at me from their black rims, such avarice, such love. The tension in my cock grew tighter and tighter, the pressure of cum within me increased until it was pressing against my pelvic floor, building, building, building! Her fingers massaged my vulnerable spot, torturing me with slow, loving caresses and presses, making my knees quiver around her. I was whining, then I was panting, then I was crying out, gripping the stool with all my might, exalting to the ceiling with my back curving so that my spine could savor the ecstasy shooting through my nerves. The pressure burst, the waves crashed down, and I was assaulted with a double-dose of climactic sensations. I gritted my teeth against the torrent, and clung to my perch like it was a life-raft in the storm.
Cum rushed to my tip, and exploded down my mother’s throat. She pressed her nose and mouth into my base, taking my pulsating head into her neck, and she swallowed around me, drinking every drop. Her fingers became wet and sticky with my gushing release of feminine nectar, my salivating netherlips secreting onto her upturned palm. As I ejected my bodily fluids, Mom gently nurtured me through my ascension, staring up at me with such covetousness, such love. When I finally went loose with a gasp, she popped my cock free of her mouth, collected the last ropes of cum, and comingled them with my womanly syrup when she sucked her fingers clean.
“Um… Lydia?” came a masculine voice from the doorway. Lord Sherman Huntiata stood there, an empty coffee cup in his hand, his mouth gaping open.
Mom whipped around; her expression mortified, her state so compromising that it was hilarious. Her glazed tits jiggled, loosening the bed of doughnut crumbs from her cleavage onto the floor. She tripped on her sudden her heel pivot, and landed on her knees. Her skirt hiked up, shot past her ass to expose her alabaster cheeks, and in a vain attempt to catch herself, pull down her skirt, and pull up her bodice all at once, Mom ended up sprawled out on the kitchen floor, failing to have achieved any of her objectives. She groaned in utter defeat. “Hello, Sherman.”
Huntiata looked from my mom, to me with my skirt at my hips and my spit-sheened cock wobbling in the air, then back to my mom. Mom buried her face in her hands, and curled into a little ball of humiliation on the floor. “Sherman,” she said into her palms, “I really don’t know how to deal with this, so I’m going to pretend you’re not here right now, if that’s OK with you.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.”
“Please leave now.”
“Sure, let me just…” He stepped awkwardly into the kitchen, and tiptoed around the noble lady curled in the middle of the floor, “…get my coffee, and I’ll be… I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Need some cream?” I giggled.
He screwed up his lips at me. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Oh, I am.” Mom groaned on the floor.
“Not you, Lydia.” Huntiata said, then scowled back at me, “Your own mother, Elena?!”
“Hey, she started it!”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
I turned to the woman lying on the floor. “Mom…?”
“She seduced me with her dark-elf magic!” Mom cried.
“My own child has used her temptress powers upon me! Oh, what is the world coming to?!” Mom bemoaned into her hands.
“It’s not your fault, Lydia.” Huntiata said with a bit too much compassion.
I gave Huntiata a frank look, and he cracked a smirk. He reached across me for the pot of coffee, and my hands somehow found themselves under his shirt. I didn’t need to fish into his pants, for his rigid cock was tucked upward behind his waistband, and his belly was sticky with cum.
“How long were you watching us?” I whispered as he loudly poured his cup.
“The whole time,” he muttered back, and loudly clanked some dishes.
“You didn’t have to do that to my poor mom; you could’ve walked away.”
He dropped a fork with a clatter. “I couldn’t resist a chance to blackmail you.”
I grinned. “And what’s the price for you to continue this charade?”
“Your coronation night belongs to me, Your Highness.”
“Such a steep price.”
“But you’ll gladly pay it.” He growled into my ear, and flexed his cock in my hand. I growled back, and gave him a squeeze, then he pulled his shirt back over his manhood, and walked away.
“These hybrids are a wicked breed, Lydia.” Huntiata said as he walked past her, “They put a spell on their victims that makes them lose their minds. You can’t be blamed for what your daughter did to you. She did it to me too.” He looked back at me with a sneer, “Oh, what horrors she exhibited upon me.” He left without another word, loudly slurping his coffee.
Mom peeked out from between her fingers. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah, he’s gone, you backstabbing bitch.” I snickered.
She turned even redder. “I’m sorry, Elena. I didn’t know how to react. Forgive me?”
I rolled my eyes, “Goddamn it, you’re so fucking hot when you’re embarrassed.”
She beamed at me, and wiggled her ass, twerking her eyebrows suggestively. “I can make it up to you right here on the kitchen floor. Come down here, baby-girl; let Mommy show you how sorry she can be.”
I sighed, climbed down the stool, and crawled over to her. It was no use; she had a spell on me.
I cast healing spell after healing spell into the arena, watching the horrific show with a guilty fascination, and an even guiltier arousal. Somewhere in our primeval psyche, sex and violence, ecstasy and agony, blood and cum all comingled. It was some grizzly death-metal shit, but it was beautiful in a way. Leveria and Soraya’s orgasmic screams were so tortured and exultant that I wondered if the ground was split in an infernal chasm, and demons would pour onto the arena sands. For certain, this display belonged in the underworld, and so did everyone who was watching it.
“Why can’t I stop watching?” Kiera groaned, peeking between her fingers as she cringed in her chair. Brianna was between her legs, sucking with a carnal voracity I’d never seen her exhibit before. She hummed in harmony with the screams, squatting low to sit on Faltia’s face. Faltia was wiggling naked on the floor, entranced by the horrific sounds filtering into her ears from between Brianna’s spread cheeks, her moans dripping from her occupied mouth. Animals, all of them, swept so easily away into their wildness by the pure brutality that carried from the arena sands, that awakened those baser instincts. Kill. Eat. Fuck.
“Don’t let me come, Furia!” Eva growled through gritted teeth, the desperation strangling her voice. Her cock was so rigid that it pointed directly upward, and it was purple above the cock-ring that held her orgasm inside, pulsing and throbbing, so full of anger that it looked near to bursting. Her pussy was unattended, but her ass was stretched wide, stuffed with Furia’s thick meat. The alpha hermaphrodite fucked the sadist with slow, powerful thrusts. She was dominating to Eva, but not abusive. She held Eva’s hands behind her back, not letting her touch the organ throbbing agonizingly between her legs, and she fucked her; each thrust distending Eva’s already-pregnant belly, each thrust squishing Eva’s fat ass into Furia’s crotch, each thrust violently milking Eva’s poor prostate, filling her obstructed cock with even more cum, building the pressure, building it, building it, building it.
Furia placed a loving kiss on the nape of her bitch’s neck. “You won’t come, Eva,” she whispered so sweetly, “You’ll beg, and whimper, and cry, but I won’t let you, because I love you.”
“Thank you!” Eva sobbed, so tortured by her rising ecstasy that she leaked from every hole.
“Now squeeze that little shithole tighter, you pathetic faggot.” Furia sang.
Eva clenched visibly, every tendon and muscle standing taut, and Furia groaned in satisfaction, and rewarded her victim with deeper, harder thrusts. Her cock was sheened with Eva’s anal secretion, disgusting and beautiful, a nectarous miasma. My mouth watered. I connected eyes with Furia from over Eva’s shoulder. I wouldn’t dare intrude; what the hybrids had with each other was special, and I knew I had to ease myself into the group if I ever wanted to have that same connection. I would wait my turn, but god, it was hard. I was hot everywhere. My breath seemed to fog from me, my clothes were so stifling, and the sweat dripped from me like dew. I was so wet. My pussy salivated, its inner cavern opening within me, aching with a vacancy worse than starvation. My asshole puckered and popped, the flexible channel convulsing to be unnaturally filled, such a corrupted hunger. All the while, Soraya and Eva screamed as they were tortured, their bodies brutalized, mutilated, opened and twisted as they were forced to come over, and over, and over again. How intense were their orgasms, I wondered? Would it be worth the pain and horror just to feel an ecstasy so purely distilled?
“She’s magnificent.” Eva gasped, watching the display with tears in her eyes, “My angel. She deserves every drop I can give her tonight, so Furia, milk me like a cow, and don’t let me climax! Oh god, fuck my asshole until I shit cum!”
Furia couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped one hand around Eva’s throat as she stiffened her grip around her bound wrists, and she hitched her pelvis forward to send a fury of thrusts into Eva’s ruined anus. I watched with bated breath as Eva flailed and writhed, her breasts jiggling in their leather straps, her pregnant belly flexing and distending, her hips oscillating to a jerking, violent rhythm. Her platinum hair cascaded with each ferocious bounce, and her cock quivered like an antenna, pulsing and throbbing so terribly that I thought it might burst. Furia’s thick meat drove like a piston, indenting Eva’s pelvic floor, then jutting it with a pop, causing Eva’s leaking red pussy to open and close, the slit so dilated with arousal that I could see clearly inside of her. I could see her glistening vaginal floor bulging with cock, the impression of it moving up and down, up and down, coercing the feminine nectar from Eva’s cunt until she reared back her head, and screeched.
She came, but not with her cock. Her female organ blushed until it was crimson, then unfurled its petals like a blooming rose. Her second urethra shot out a stream of release that doused Faltia’s wiggling body below her, and she collapsed atop Furia with a whine. White milk leaked from the tight seal of her penetration, and ran in thick rivulets into Furia’s yawning pussy. Furia groaned in satisfaction, then looked to me with an expectant gaze.
I crawled to her. On my way, I shared a kiss with Brianna and Faltia, and let them put their fingers inside me. With Brianna’s knuckles opening my asshole, and Faltia’s four fingers curling inside my fluttering pussy, I knelt at the altar of Furia and Eva, and awaited my baptism. Furia pulled her cock out of Eva’s ass, and Eva pushed. Her anus prolapsed beautifully, outturning into a bud of glistening rosy flesh that birthed a gout of milk into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around the protrusion, lathered my tongue into its folds, and sucked hedonistically. Eva groaned; the sound nearly mournful coming from her raspy voice. I played her like an instrument, making her sing and sigh, making her hips rotate with the circling of my tongue. It was easy to make her pussy come a second time, and I didn’t even have to touch it. She sobbed like a debased whore atop Furia’s lap, thrusting her bulging cock frustratedly as she showered my face with her vaginal release.
Furia eased Eva off her lap, and the sadistic hermaphrodite stumbled into the pile of Faltia, Brianna and Kiera. They moved sensually upon her; Brianna sucking her nipples, Faltia splitting her cheeks to taste the inside rim of her yawning anus, and Kiera thrusting her cock deep into her pussy, but they would not touch her manhood. That tortured organ stayed purple and throbbing, wagging in defiance of gravity about its golden ring.
“Come to me, Yavara.” Furia whispered huskily, beckoning upward. I licked my way up her taint, parting her slit with my tongue before lathering her tattooed cock, tasting Eva’s ass anew, cleaning the cum from the shaft. I sucked her indulgently for a minute, bringing her to her full potential before I crawled up her magnificent body, my hands forming around her pregnant belly before cupping her full breasts, my thumbs caressing her nipples before all my fingers played through her platinum hair, taking the back of her head, bringing her kiss to my mouth. She was so sensual with her dominance, placating me expertly, embracing me firmly, but tenderly. I was squished into her breasts, my corset hugging my torso, pressing her cock between us. Her hands trailed down my back, parted my succulent cheeks, and moved between them.
Oh, her fingers. They were delicate and slender, and they fit so easily into my aperture. Pop, pop, pop, went the knuckles through my tight hole, her tips pressing into the smooth, tender flesh, opening me so easily. I groaned, and pushed my pelvis against her, grinding against her shaft, wetting it with my netherlips. I could feel her pulse between my legs, the enticing heat of her, the rage of her masculinity throbbing into me. I smeared my lust back and forth across her, dancing to the whim of her fingers. They pried me open, stretched me gaping, and curled inside to knead the rectal muscles until I was spasming with delight.
“Oh, Furia!” I whined. Leveria screamed in agony, and my arousal was only heightened. So was my desperation. “Furia!” I cried, touching our brows, staring into her eyes, “love me.”
She pushed inside me, and I groaned in satisfaction. My groan became a moan as my insides were stretched, and my moan became a gasp when my bottom was pushed in. My thighs quivered around hers, and my ass clamped a fleshy vice about her fingers, sucking them deeper into my sinful hole.
Furia tilted her head curiously. “Love you, Yavara?” She whispered, “I think I’d rather just fuck you.”
She pulled one hand out of my ass, gripped my hair with her filthy fingers, and wrenched my head back. I cried out in delight, mouthing breathlessly, taken by the heat of sex, ignoring the pain of rejection. A whip crack sounded. Leveria sobbed. The crowd roared. Furia licked me from collar to cheek, pathing the vulnerable bow of my throat in her dominance. Another whip cracked. Leveria cried out. The crowd booed. They wanted more. Furia drove into my cunt with a ferocious series of thrusts, punching her tip into my cervix, bouncing me off her lap. I was screaming in delight, tears veiling my eyes as she pulled my hair tighter, and tighter.
A chain clanked. Leveria begged. The crowd roared. Furia pressed me against the wall, my tailbone cushioned against her wrist so that her entire fist could twist into my shithole, stretching it, the knuckles pressing against her driving cock from the wrong side. She was face to face with me now, and I snarled into her muzzle, and kissed her hard and fiercely. Furia bit into my lip. Her teeth were fangs now, her eyes red. So were mine. The shade of the canopy blocked the sun, but we didn’t need to transform all the way. We just needed to show the rage. We just needed to taste the blood. The chain was tightened with a crank. Leveria begged louder. The crowd roared even louder.
Furia spun me around, pressing me into the wall, my cheek digging into the stone, my breasts flattening into rough granite. I panted desperately, opening my legs wide to bring her pumping cock deeper, to feel its thick underside rub roughly against my throbbing clit. The crank clanged along its gears. Leveria blubbered out a plea. The crowd laughed. Furia’s breasts squished wetly against my back, her heart thundering, her breath hot upon my neck. She plunged her fangs into me, and drank. I snarled, clawing deep grooves into the wall, my nails now sharper than swords, and stronger than steel. The crank clanked. Leveria screeched. The crown roared. Furia pounded against me, my ass squishing and deforming into my arched back, my pussy squelching with each impaling thrust, my belly distending. I was coming, my mind becoming a fever of lust, my voice carrying higher and higher. The crank clicked into place. Leveria’s shriek sputtered out. The crowd waited in rapt silence. Furia panted against the back of my neck. Her fist thrusted into my clenching shithole. Her cock split my insides, engorged me with her meat, filled me until I was breathless. So close. So very close. Something metal thudded into something soft. Leveria’s shriek split the air. The crowd became a crescendo. I came.
I came so violently that I fell to my knees, and Furia had to descend with me, taking advantage of my spreading cheeks to do such terrible, wonderful things to me. She thrusted her cock and fist into my holes, my pelvic floor distended with every forceful pull, my asshole clung to her like a sucking mouth, my pussy-lips pulled from my slit to lather her in my feminine saliva. I pissed my orgasm onto the rocks, shuddering as I screamed, clenching around Furia to milk the seed from her loins. She burst inside me, and collapsed into my back, whining weak girlish tones as she emptied herself deep into my womb. We heaved together with each thrust, rocking in our quivering state, easing slowly down from the bliss of insanity.
When it was done, I turned my face to hers. She cupped it tenderly, and brought our lips together. She wanted to reassure me, I could tell, but that was all she could do. Now that the passion was gone, there was very little left in its wake. When she pulled out of me, I licked her fingers and cock clean, but she seemed disinterested in the display. She kissed me a second time, then walked over to the balcony, and cross her arms over her naked breasts. Leveria’s scream died to a sob, and the crowd applauded her suffering. Furia frowned, and left the royal box.
It felt like a lifetime had gone by since I’d last scene Certiok Terdini. The teenage orc princess looked like she’d aged right out of her twenties in that timespan. First her father, then her husband, then her father-in-law, then her surrogate mother and child. War took its toll on everyone, but it took more from some than others.
“The queen asked about you.” I said.
“Did she?” Certiok spat, smoking a cigarette as she looked out from her mansion. Though the house was lavish, it was still very tribal. Fertility statues, animal carcasses, weapons and sex toys littered the abode, as well as several syringes, pipes, and ashtrays.
I stepped beside her, and watched the anarchistic debauchery play out in the streets below. “You’re upset with her. Why?”
“I’m not upset with her,” Certiok muttered, “I just wish she would leave me alone. She puts everyone on edge.” She flicked the ash from her square, “She tried to fuck me after she told me about Brock.”
“That sounds like her.”
“She got mad when I wouldn’t do it. Like, I just learned that the last member of my family is dead, and you think now is a good time to stick your tongue inside me?!”
“You know it’s how she is. It’s how all dark-elves are.”
“No, it’s not.” Certiok muttered, “The hybrids are a bunch of nymphos, sure, but they understand restraint.” She let out a long plume of smoke. “Anyway, I gave Yavara what she wanted. Didn’t have a choice, did I? Who would even bat an eye if she blew me to pieces?”
“You know she would never do that.”
She flicked ash. “Maybe.”
“The hybrids will mellow her. She just needs some time.”
She scoffed. “The hybrids are nothing without Adrianna, and you know it.” She put her hand on her hip when she looked at me. “You could’ve swept it under the rug, you know. The whole Prince Matthew thing.”
“And just ignore the fleet heading our way?”
“You could’ve made something up. You got an anonymous tip. A spy in the Lowlands told you.”
“I wasn’t letting a traitor live.”
“She carried my daughter!” She snarled, “Trenok’s daughter, you fucking monster!”
I stayed silent, and waited for Certiok’s anger to subside. It didn’t. “She did more for Alkandra than Yavara ever did!” she yelled, “She built this city! She tamed the tribes! She founded a fucking nation! Who cares about some Lowland prince?! He was dead anyway! And now, while an enemy fleet bears down on us, our benevolent queen is giving the whole city a show instead of preparing for battle!”
“The horde will be here by nightfall.”
“And the enemy will be here a day later.”
“We’ll be ready for them.”
“So confident,” she hissed, “but the greatest obstacle to our victory has never been the enemy, Zander.”
Leveria’s scream echoed from the arena, and the crowd’s roar of approval followed.
“Anyway,” she grumbled, turning back to the window, “you can leave. Don’t bother coming to visit again; my door is locked to you.”
“Adrianna is alive.” I said so quietly that I wasn’t sure if Certiok heard it.
Certiok cocked her head, then slowly turned to face me. Her black eyes were narrowed, staring right into my skull through my eyes. “What did you say?” She hissed.
“I let Adrianna go. Your baby still lives.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Bullshit!” she spat.
“I’m telling you this because I need you, Certiok.”
“You go to hell, Zander!” Certiok screamed, though there was a sob in it, “You go straight to fucking hell!”
“If Yavara knew, she’d kill me. I’m trusting you with this.”
She quivered; her fists clenched. “Get out right now.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“I said to get the fuck out.”
“I need your help to rescue Leveria.” I said so fast that it seemed to vomit from me.
Certiok’s wrath dimmed to give way to confusion. “You… need to rescue Leveria Tiadoa.”
I took a deep breath through my nostrils. “Yes.”
“Because she was the one who was meant to carry Alkandi’s soul, not Yavara. She is the true Dark Queen.”
Certiok blinked. “Zander, that makes absolutely no fucking sense.”
“I could explain it you in excruciating detail, and it still wouldn’t make any sense, but it’s true. It was Brock who told me.”
“You’re just a crazy old man.”
“I’m not going to risk my life for a crazy old man.”
“If you ever want to see your daughter, I suggest you rethink that.”
She threw a dagger across the room with such speed that I didn’t even have time to blink before it bounced off my arcane shield. “My daughter is dead, you murdering bastard! Now why don’t you go after her?!”
“No, Certiok.” I muttered, and lowered my shield as she readied the next dagger, “She’s alive, and so is her mother. You can call me a liar, you can try to kill me all you want, but it won’t make what I say any less false, and my regret will keep me alive just to spite you.”
She snarled. It might’ve been a smile. “Eat shit.”
“I’m not leaving until you help me.” I sat in the chair.
She stayed poised to throw; her arm frozen behind her head, her elbow cocked. Then, she lowered the weapon. She walked across the room, and sat in the chair opposite me. She studied me for a long time, then growled, “Well? Fucking talk!”
Soraya hadn’t left my side the whole day. She’d held my hand throughout every torture we endured. At times, she was my only lifeline to sanity, for I might’ve been consumed in the agony otherwise. Now, she rested beside me in my jailcell bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling as I did the same. The things that had been done to us were beyond de***********ion, but in the depths of such horror, there was an unspeakable sexuality. The orgasms I’d had were so intense that they took me to a higher plane. The pain I endured titillated me in a terrible way, and the mutilation I witnessed upon my own flesh was arousing in the most depraved fashion. Now that it was over, I quivered beside the hybrid, my body healed, but my mind nearly shattered.
“Your scream is so pure, Leveria.” Soraya whispered beside me.
“Thank you.” I croaked back, not knowing what she meant.
She took a very slow breath in, and let it out with equal slowness, savoring it. “I have never felt such peace before in my whole life than in this moment. It’s like the world is standing still. Do you feel it?”
“Yes.” Every sensation was heightened, my sense all brought to a keen edge, but there was no anxiety to go with it. It was like that moment of strange exhilaration I felt when I first murdered with my own hands, killing my father, only it was so much greater. The bed was soft and cool upon my flesh, and the draft of the dungeon caressed me delightfully. Soraya had been bathed in milk, and her flesh was so supple that it seemed to mold against mine. Her hair smelled of lavender, and her whistling breaths were like a soft song in my ear.
“Eva is waiting for you.” I whispered.
“She can continue to wait.” Soraya whispered back, and rotated softly beside me. She was almost timid next to me, though we were both naked. She assessed my body with reverence, taking-in every rise and dip of my form, canvasing my flesh with her eyes. She extended her pointer finger, and with the barest touch, she drew patterns on the places where I’d been tormented. The memory of the pain was still fresh, and though her caress spurred it to my nerves, it also seemed to erase it, replacing it with her tender finger.
“We went to some very dark places together, you and I.” She mused with her soft voice.
“The darkest places.”
“I was so glad that you were there with me,” she smiled sweetly, “I don’t think I could’ve done it alone.”
I held out my hand, and splayed my fingers. “I’m glad you were there too.” I whispered hoarsely.
She interlocked her fingers with mine, and we clasped our hands. She seemed fascinated with their union, for she stared at them for a long moment.
“Soraya?” I asked.
“I’ve never felt so close to someone before in my life.”
“You’re kind of crazy, you know that?”
“I do,” she whispered, turning our hands over at the wrist, “but so are you.”
She brought our joined hands to her lips, and tenderly kissed each knuckle. When she finished at my thumb, she looked at me from beneath her long lashes. “I don’t want you to die.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Leveria.” She rested our hands between my breasts, then carefully moved atop me. She was so gentle in every motion, nearly timid. Every touch was a caress, and it felt like a phantom was straddling my thighs when she interlocked our legs. She eased her weight onto me, then gradually dipped low. Her nipples brushed along my tummy, then the domes of my breasts, then rubbed my own nipples, now stiff with arousal. She hovered over me for a second, her blonde hair curtaining our faces, her blue eyes staring down into mine. Then, she lowered herself, pressing her belly to mine, squishing our breasts together, joining our crotches to feel the soft wet fire between our legs. Her lips opened, and she kissed me. It was so gentle, her docile tongue moving with grace into my mouth, her butterfly lips barely touching mine. I kissed her back with equal care, playing with our heightened senses, not exerting an ounce of force.
It was how we made love that night. When she turned about my body to present the delicious options between her cheeks, I planted tender pecks through her crack before I feasted upon her anus. She did the same, licking my vile hole with subtle swirls, curiously probing and exploring, but not devouring me with hedonistic avarice. And when we moved to each other’s pussies, we paid special attention to the petals that lined the blushing entrance before we moved to the budding clit. There, we moaned softly as our lips smacked and slurped, for we sucked tenderly upon the throbbing nodes, gradually bringing each other to the precipice. We pushed our fingers into each other’s asses, careful not to stretch them too much. Her pink spokes smoothed when I added a third finger to her moist anus, and I knew by the quiver of her thighs, that she was at the very edge of discomfort. There would be no pain tonight. Carefully, I rotated my fingers inside of her, my knuckles popping in and out, giving her the grotesque massage that made her purr. I did this as I moved my tongue into her slit, lathering every inch of her pink flower before dipping into her ovule. She gasped when I entered her, and I did the same. Our tongues curled within the other, testing the flavor, enjoying the taste. We ventured deeper and deeper, swirling our exploratory members, gently stretching the entrance until our lips pressed around it. Through muffled moans of pure bliss, we began bringing the other to orgasm.
Our whines and whimpers filtered out. Our knuckles squelched as they twisted into coiling pink rectums. Our mouths slurped subtly, and our tongues flicked wetly. Our bodies undulated together, a small wave that moved from her mouth and my pussy, down her breasts and my belly, up her belly and my breasts, and ended with her pressing her pussy down on my mouth. Our other hands were still linked, still holding in solidarity of the other, a connection of the utmost empathy. Whatever she would feel, I would feel. Our grips tightened. Our whimpers grew louder. Our undulation became deeper. Her pussy tightened and clenched around my face, her ass squeezed and pulsed around my hand. I felt the pressure rising in my nethers, ballooning outward, suffusing my limbs with a pleasant lassitude until I was paralyzed in the blissful wave. I came with a squirt, showering her face, and she did the same. Our voices harmonized, and we quaked in pleasure for a perfect moment.
Then, it faded, and with it, faded the heightened sense of things we shared. As our decelerating breaths sounded in the cell, our fingers became unlinked. She slid off of me, suddenly a stranger, and she would not look back. Just like the others, Soraya left me alone as a condemned woman. But I knew she’d be thinking about me all night long.
I lounged in my bed, licking Soraya off my lips. My eyes caught the twinkle of the gemstone in the corner.
“Still watching me, old man?” I asked with a lazy smile, “I put on a hell of show, don’t I?”
Of course, the gemstone just twinkled back.
“You think I enjoyed what they did to me out there?!” I scoffed, “I’m going to need to see a therapist for at least a year to get over it!”
The gemstone was nonresponsive.
“So what if I came? Orgasming is just stimulus; it doesn’t mean I liked it.” I scowled at the gemstone, “What kind of woman comes when she’s being tortured, you ask? Well, a stressed-out one, maybe. I don’t fucking know, OK?! But I didn’t fucking like it!”
“Who are you talking to, little queen?” A sardonic voice asked.
I looked over my shoulder to see an eight-foot tall figure looming in my cell. He’d gotten inside it without making a sound. His eyes were crimson, and his flesh was as pale as death. I suppressed a shudder.
“Drake Titus, I take it?” I asked.
“Indeed.” He bowed grandly, then walked over to where I was lying in bed, and peered at the gemstone in the corner. “Ah, you’re being spied on. Is Zander Fredeon your resident voyeur then?”
“But this is not an astral communicator, so you’re simply intuiting his responses in your mad ravings?”
“I guess I am.”
“Fascinating.” He mused, and sat beside me. I curled into a ball, and he chuckled, peeling away the sheets to expose my nudity. “It’s quite an interesting time to be modest, little queen, especially when I’ve not only seen all of you, but I’ve seen quite a bit of your insides as well.”
“You scare me.”
“As well I should; I’m a terrifying individual.” He grinned, his fangs showing.
“Why are you here?”
He pulled out a long cigarette holder, and lit the end. After contemplating the thin wisps of smoke for a while, he said, “In all my centuries of life, I’ve never been in love before. I thought I loved my blood-mother, but in truth, the relationship was… well it was downright abusive. It wasn’t until I got to know Adrianna that I at least understood what love could be.” He gestured to the gemstone in the corner, “I tried to kill Zander when I heard he’d executed her. I almost did it. Then, he told me she was alive. Not only did he tell me that, but he also told me that you were meant to be the Dark Queen.”
“Zander’s a delusional old bastard.”
“Yes, but he’s also likely the smartest man in the world, so where does that leave us?” Titus chuckled, “Who you were meant to be matters very little anyway; it’s who you are that matters.” He studied me curiously, “Rumor has it that you’re becoming quite popular with our hybrids. I sure hope for your sake that Yavara doesn’t hear that rumor.” He flicked the ash from his square, “I’ve heard another rumor—a more scandalous one even than the last. I heard that you and Elena Straltaira had a romantic relationship.”
“What’s your point?”
“You have a natural connection with them, don’t you? They should all hate you, and yet, they come to your chambers every night after spending only a day with you, while Yavara struggles to connect with them. I knew Elena briefly, but I could tell instantly that she loved Yavara with all her heart, and yet… you stole her. Why do you think that is?” He raised his finger as if an idea had suddenly popped into his head, “Actually, I think a more pertinent question is, would Elena have loved you if she hadn’t been turned into a hybrid?”
“We hated each other before.”
“Before… yes, I’d like to venture back to the ‘before;’ that time when Yavara had not yet transformed. Now, I’ve heard rumors about you and your…”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I was fucking my dad.”
He smiled devilishly. “Wonderful. So, as a teenager, you were in a sexual relationship with your father, which you used as leverage to gain power years before you were supposed to. You became a premier diplomat by the time you were nineteen, and you had ordered your first assassination… when?”
“Six months earlier.”
“Even better. And all this time, what was Yavara doing? Well, she was a virgin girl who liked to shoot arrows and skip class to play in the woods. Hmm… I wonder which one of you was supposed to be the Dark Queen? If Yavara hadn’t merged with Alkandi, what would she have been? A trophy wife. But let’s pretend for a second that you weren’t the firstborn, and Yavara was the heir. Do you honestly believe that you would’ve ever let her live long enough to even sniff the throne?”
“And so, here we are.” Titus said grandly, “Yavara struggles interminably to find commonality with the hybrids she herself created, and you bond with them even when they hate you. Yavara made this country, but she doesn’t fit into it. You tried to destroy this country, and you fit right in.”
“Yavara mistakes being a slut for having a personality; that’s why people don’t like her.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“And I don’t give a shit, so I’ll ask you for the final-fucking-time, why are you here?!”
“For Adrianna.” He said simply, “Whether she likes it or not—and I daresay she absolutely hates it—she’s bound to you now. She chose you over Yavara for some unfathomable reason, and for an even more unfathomable reason, I trust her judgement.” Titus considered me with his red eyes, “You’ve been pregnant before.”
“And your sister is infertile; did you know that? It’s strange. I once asked Adrianna why she thought Yavara transformed high-elves into hybrids. She said—”
“Just get to the fucking point!”
He considered me with a wry smile, “Yavara was transformed through sex, and so she transforms through it as well. Alkandi can only merge with high-elf hosts since dark-elves went extinct, and only through sex, and so only elves are transformed when Yavara has sex with them. Whatever is inside Yavara is unstable. It’s trying to get out. Her body and soul merged with something incompatible, and it’s rejecting it—it’s rejecting Alkandi. And when Yavara’s body and soul find a host that can bear Alkandi, she will give all of Alkandi to that host.”
I just blinked at him.
Titus winked back. “There’s a reason Alkandi came back so infrequently. Kindred spirits share more than just personalities. They share expressions, mannerisms, weaknesses, strengths, speaking tones, behaviors, etcetera… She chose you, but she found someone else—an egg with magical potential beyond anything she’d known before. Yavara may have become a mage the likes of Zander Fredeon if Alkandi hadn’t suppressed the magic, kept it hidden so as to avoid scrupulous eyes. She got greedy. She bit off a bit more than she could chew.” He smirked at me, “I’m sure you understand the sentiment well right now. Find your way between your sister’s legs, and you will find a way to survive. It’s your only chance, little queen.”