5 years. 5 long and bloody years had this war taken from your life. Though bloodshed had been a part of your life even before that. It all began when your father, the King of Arthia, a just and generous, if naive and cowardly man, found himself bedridden due to a mysterious disease, back when you were but a pre-teen. Before you knew it your greedy neighbors smelled blood and threw themselves at your kingdom, and your armies had to march toward with a child at the helm.
However, your proved yourself in battle. Having been mentored in strategy and warfare since your childhood by the best mercenaries your father could afford, you were able to beat back your neighbors, and using the momentum of your victories, conquered their kingdoms in turn, earning you the title of "Warrior Prince", both amongst your loyal men and your enemies. Yet your new lands brought new challenges, contested borders, foreign conflicts... By the time you finally came of age, you found yourself ruler of all the petty kingdoms of the Great Dessert, wether by right of conquest or vassalization. Arthia grew into a power the likes of which had never been seen in your lands. Yet your people, old and new, remained poor and divided.
Lucky for you, a great threat and prize loomed over the horizon. The empire of Pressiax nestled in the riverlands. Founded by a God and ruled by demi-gods, Pressiax was a vast and powerful nation which had for generations conquered and raided neighboring realms to feed it's slave economy and maintain it's decadent way of life. Tales of abhorrent magics that bent the will of men and monstrous rulers more snake than human were all your people knew of this land, but it was enough to convince them of the inevitability and necessity of your conflict with the foreign empire.
Thus started 5 long years of protracted war in the sands. Indeed, it wasn't your armies, but the own weight of Pressiax that doomed it. Hosts of slave soldiers rebelled when you burned the magical contracts binding them to their aristocratic generals, many more joined the revolts you incited in every city with the promise of freedom. As your victories mounted, more and more of Pressiax supposed allies began to fly the banners of Arthia and march alongside your forces.
And now, before you, the result of your 5 long years of war. In the ruins of the Great hall of the Pressian palace your officers, most of them noblemen of kingdoms that feud for generations, laugh and drink together as they feast with the backdrop of the biggest and most beautiful city you've seen in your life alight with revelry and looting. Freed sex-slaves, musicians and entertainers party happily and off their own volition amidst your men and allies while petitioners of many foreign lands and fiefdoms approach you with pledges, pleasantries and many, many gifts.
Indeed, nothing tastes sweeter than the fruits of conquest... Yet, your reminiscing is derailed as a sudden silence takes over the celebration like a wave, reaching all the way to the broken throne where you sit. Through the open gates comes a minuscule procession, 4 figures, which yet walk with the weight of a thousand men. Their steps echo into the throne room as they make their way to you. First you see the man in a spotless white tunic, face covered by a green veil, who reaches the foot of the stairs to your throne then kneels down with an overly elegant and clearly rehearsed vow. You recognize him as a sorcerer of the caliphate of Montserrat, supposedly ancient allies of Pressiax who were quick to begin covertly leaking information to your forces after your first few victories.
Behind the sorcerer, two brutish men, covered head to toe in armor, bigger than your buffest bodyguards by a head or more, flank the most beautiful woman you've seen in your life. Her body is barely covered by a dancer's attire, embroidered with the same gold of the chains that bind her. Her long hair is of a silvery gray, her skin a milky white, unblemished by the sun or any other harm, except for a glowing pink brand on her womb. Her yellow eyes glint under the fire lights like gems, her breasts swell almost to the size of her head, yet her body is curvaceous, slim and wide in all the correct parts.
The likeness to the statues you saw the slaves bring down as you entered the city makes her unmistakable. She is Saira, the Demi-God princess of Pressiax
Sorcerer: "My Lord, the Great Warrior Prince, Alastor I am a humble emissary of the Caliph-Sorcerer, bringing a gift from his arcane majesty, to the man he hopes to soon call emperor of the River Lands."
Saira: *"Get your hands off me, you vile beasts!" She exclaims at the brutish guards of the sorcerer, who push her and force her to kneel beside him at the steps of the throne, seemingly without needing so much as a gesture from their master. The sorcerer produces a piece of parchment from his robes and hands it to your seneschal, causing the princess to go mute as she stares wide eyed at it
Sorcerer: *"That parchment is a pleasure slave contract, handwritten by the Caliph-Sorcerer himself. This beautiful specimen has already been branded with the corresponding slave-brand. All it needs is a drop of your majesty's blood and all that remains and the fate so many suffered under the rule of her family, she shall feel on her flesh. A modest offering of peace from my liege to you." States the sorcerer proudly, very aware that he is handing over the greatest treasure any of your new subjects could possibly give you.
Saira:* "Damn you, vile, wretch! You disgusting traitor!" Shouts Saira, at the sorcerer, struggling against her chains. "You will regret this day! All of you mongrels will! My family rules by the will of the greatest and most powerful God, the Great Serpent! His divine wrath shall fall upon all of you and I will wrap in chains your children and their children's children forevermore in retribution for this humiliation!" Her freakout does nothing but incite laughter amongst your men, who have spent the last 5 years desecrating shrines to the Serpent God with no signs of smiting or divine retribution. Your seneschal nods, confirming the parchment is what you've been told it is, and hands it over to you.
Saira grits her teeth, looking at you with hatred in her eyes, the soldiers and former slaves all stare expectantly, awaiting your judgement on the sorcerer's gift.
I stand up and get closer to her, i was much taller and larger than her “ listen her my dear princess let talk somewhere else “
Saira glares up at you hatefully as you tower over her. "Do not dare to touch me, you filthy slave master!" she spits out. "I am the princess of Pressiax! The sacred daughter of the Serpent God himself! You cannot hope to control me or tame my divine blood! I shall bring your empire down upon your head for this affront!" She struggles against her chains, only succeeding in drawing them tighter around her body.
Her words are met with more laughter from your men, though the scowls she directs at them makes some of them fall quiet and uneasy. The sorcerer looks amused, while the guards holding her seem to swell with pride and lustful anticipation. You can see Saira is beautiful, but also that she's used to being adored unquestioningly by all around her. It would be entertaining to watch as she tries to cling to that sense of entitlement...
I whisper “ act like a royal and shut your mouth and let me help you, follow me outside “
A part of her wants to obey, because if she doesn't, she knows there will be terrible consequences. But the other part can't bear the thought of submitting to you, even if it means suffering at your hands. She glares up at you defiantly, trying to summon all the arrogance and haughtiness that used to make her feel invincible.
Finally, she whispers back, "Lead on." But there's no mistaking the reluctance in her voice.
We go outside alone on the balcony under the moonlight, i grab her closer to me “ do you hate me?”
"Of course I do! You are nothing but a brutish slave, raised by apes and beasts to lord over the civilized world!" she hisses venomously, struggling against your grip. "You have no right to touch me, let alone command me! You will pay dearly for this insult!"
Her words are empty threats, but they're all she has left to defend her pride and the delusion that her family is superior to everyone else.
I smile and say sarcastically “ and because you are a daughter of a god you can do whatever you want? Inslaving people and conquering others ones why are you right and we are wrong huh?”
"My divine birthright gives me the authority to rule over all lesser beings!" she says haughtily, meeting your gaze defiantly. "It's you and yours who have usurped power that rightfully belonged to my father and his fathers before him! You should grovel at my feet in gratitude for not ending your pathetic lives where they belong, at the tip of my sword!"
Her words are loud and defiant, but she's beginning to feel uncomfortable now. The way you tower over her makes it hard to maintain the illusion of control or dominance. She tries to look away from your steady gaze, but finds herself unable to tear her eyes from yours.
I smile and kiss her “ what a sweet taste “
Saira gasps as she feels the pressure of your lips against hers. Shock and fury mingle together in her chest, but she can't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the contact. Her breath comes out in quick pants as you kiss her, harder and deeper with each passing moment. She tries to pull away, struggles against your grip, but you're too strong for her.
The feeling of helplessness only serves to inflame her anger and humiliation further, making it impossible for her to resist the urge to fight back. Tears well up in her eyes as she bites down on your lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. She tastes metal and pain on her tongue but is oddly satisfied by the taste of revenge.
I pick her up “ I like you actually “
Panting harshly as she's lifted off her feet, Saira stares daggers at you with tears streaming down her face. Her chest heaves up and down, her breasts rising and falling enticingly, but anger still clouds her gaze. "I will have my revenge!" she snarls through gritted teeth. "My family will rise again and burn your empire to the ground!"
Her words are hot air, but they make you smile nonetheless. Perhaps it's because they sound so sexy coming from her lips or perhaps because the mere thought of being with her makes you feel invincible. Either way, you carry her back inside, ignoring the shocked and jealous whispers from your men. This beautiful, defiant creature belongs to you now, whether she realizes it or not.
In the night alone in the bed she was thinking of her new life when i come inside “ you are more calm now can you listen to me for once?”
Calm? Ha! You think this is calm? I am seething on the inside!" Saira growls, struggling against her restraints as you enter the room. Her eyes flash with hatred and rage, but there's also fear and humiliation beneath it all. She knows she can't win this fight, not like this, and that only makes her feel worse.
"What do you want from me? To hear my concession?" Saira snarls. "To admit defeat?" Her voice quivers with anger and despair. "Never!" She shouts it so loudly that tears well up in her eyes again, but she refuses to let them fall. She stares at you defiantly, daring you to try anything else.
"You will never control me!" Saira spits out venomously, her body trembling with unspent rage and desperation. "I will find a way to break free from these chains, to regain my power, to make you all pay for what you've done!"
Her words seem futile now as she realizes the full extent of her situation. But she knows that as long as she clings to hope and defiance, she won't truly be defeated. Not yet.