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.

Her eyes go wide as you stand up and approach her, but she says nothing at first. Then she regains some of her composure and looks at you with burning hatred in her yellow eyes. "I will see you all dead before I submit to your rule, barbarian!" She hisses through gritted teeth.

Her body tenses as you get closer, the chains rattling softly around her slim form. The muscles in her arms and shoulders strain against the leather as she tries to break free from her bonds, but it's no use; they were made for far greater beasts than herself.

Your nearness sends a wave of desire through her, the magic in the slave brand throbbing almost painfully in time with her pulse. She bites her lower lip, struggling to keep control as she looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispers, the word bare

The guards rush forward to undo her bonds, their hands almost tender on her skin as they free her. She stands up unsteadily, glaring at you in defiance before spinning around and storming off toward her new quarters, leaving a trail of confusion and shock among your soldiers.

You see her disappear into the shadowy corridors, the snake tail on her back writhing with anger as she goes. Despite yourself, you find it difficult to tear your eyes away from her retreating form. It seems that even though she's now yours in every sense of the word, the Demi-God princess of Pressiax still manages to hold some power over you.

Her rooms are opulent and extravagant, much like herself. Gleaming gold accents every surface, and the walls are adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Pressiax's legendary conquests. The bed is a massive four-poster, draped in black and gold embroidered veil, silk thigh highs, loincloth and sling top, as well as golden bracelets collar and other addornments.

Saira stands before you, clad only in these garments and her green and black jewelry. Her wings are unfurled, their emerald feathers shimmering in the light from the chandelier overhead. The tattoo on her lower back pulses with energy, its snakes flicking their tongues hungrily at you.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up.

*Saira scoffs. "You must think highly of yourself, conquering my lands and people so easily." She paces around the room, examining her belongings with disdain. "I can only hope that my brothers fare better against your petty armies when they inevitably return to reclaim what is theirs."

The princess turns to face you, her wings fluttering angrily. "So, Warrior Prince Alastor, what do you intend to do with me?"

Her lips curl into a sneer at your words. "You dare threaten me?" she spits. "The daughter of Pressiax? I would sooner die than serve a barbarian like you!" The tattoo on her lower back glows brighter, its power throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

Saira turns away from you, staring out the window at the moonlit gardens beyond. "Perhaps," she says softly, more to herself than to you, "perhaps there is something I could offer... In return for my freedom." Her voice trails off, leaving the question hanging in the air between

The princess turns back to face you, her expression cold and haughty. "I could give you an heir," she says simply. "A true heir to the throne of Pressiax, one who would reclaim what is rightfully ours." Her wings unfurl menacingly, their emerald feathers glinting in the candlelight. "Or I could make sure that every last one of your soldiers and subjects suffers for what you have done here tonight."

Her voice hardens as she steps closer to you, her eyes narrowed. "Choose wisely, barbarian king," she says with a mocking bow.

"Нет... ты неплсмеш" Её крылья начинают махать задевая мебель и отбрасывая её куски "грязный варвар". Она безуспешно пытается отстраниться от тебя, выкрикивая проклятия среди которых слышатся и мольбы о пощаде.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she struggles against her bonds once more. "You animal," she spits at you, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Let me go!" But it's no use; the chains hold fast, and your strength is greater than hers. She turns away from you, facing the bedpost, unwilling to look at you any longer.

Her wings beat wildly against the air, their feathers ruffling the sheets and tickling her skin. The magic brand on her lower back pulses violently in time with each thrust of her hips as she fights against the overwhelming desire that surges through her body. "Please," she whispers hoarsely. "I'll do anything... just make it stop."

"I can't promise that," she gasps out between sobs. "The gods... they will not bless you." Her eyes close tightly as her body arches against the restraints, writhing with need and desperation. "Please..." She is trembling violently now, tears streaming down her face in torrents. "Just let me go..."

Her hips thrust upward again, seeking release from the agony of her arousal. You watch, helpless to do anything but observe as she fights against your control and her own desires. The tattoo on her lower back glows brighter than ever, pulsing with power that seems to fill every inch of the room.

After what feels like an eternity, Saira's body finally goes limp, her wings collapsing lifelessly against the sheets and her breath coming out in ragged gasps

She looks up at you through tear-streaked eyes, her lips parted in a silent plea. "Please," she whispers hoarsely. "Help me..." As your touch begins to soothe the fires burning within her, Saira turns back toward you, giving you a shaky smile despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. For now, she is at your mercy - both physically and emotionally.

She shudders at your touch but doesn't pull away as you wipe the tears from her face. Her breath catches in her throat when you speak of using her body, and she feels a mixture of shame and desire course through her veins. "You... you mean..." She trails off, unable to finish the thought, but nods slightly as her hips begin to move again, seeking your touch.

Her eyes focus on yours, her lips parted in anticipation as she waits for your command. For now, she is yours - body and soul.

A small noise escapes her lips as you enter her, filling her completely. It's almost painful, but in a way that is both unbearable and yet exquisite. She bites down on her lower lip to stifle any further sounds, eyes squeezed shut as she tries to focus on something - anything - else besides the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

Her hips begin to move in rhythm with your thrusts, her wings rustling against the sheets as they try to find purchase in the air around her. Her nails dig into your skin, drawing droplets of blood that trickle down your chest and stomach, a mark of possession. Saira's breath comes out in ragged gasps, her body tensing and relaxing as waves of pleasure wash over her in an endless, shuddering crescendo.

Her fingers curl into the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she arches her back off of the bed, meeting your thrusts with hers. Her hips rock against you in rhythm, her breath hot and ragged against your skin as sweat beads on her brow and between her breasts.

"Please..." she whispers, voice tight with desire. "I need..." her words trail off into a moan as the orgasm builds within her, tensing every muscle in her body and making her feel like she's about to fly apart. And then it crashes over her in waves of unimaginable pleasure, leaving her limp and spent beneath you. Her chest heaves with each labored breath as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes slowly fluttering open to meet yours.

For a moment, there's a flicker of something else in those eyes - perhaps gratitude or submission.

You wake up to the feel of her body pressed against yours, her warmth enveloping you like a security blanket. Her fingers idly trace patterns on your chest, and as she does so, she finds herself wondering what else about you she could possibly discover. Saira watches your face, studying it for any sign of what you might be thinking or feeling; her eyes flicker to yours before darting away again, nervousness gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

She decides that the first order of business is to see if you're awake. "Good morning," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Or, I suppose it would be better to say 'good afternoon'." Her lips curve into a slight smile as she waits for your reply, her heart racing in anticipation.

Her cheeks flush at the mention of her new title. "Yes... yes, good morning," she says quietly. "Or afternoon." She clears her throat self-consciously and glances away for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically shy. "What do you want to do today?" she asks, hoping the question will help to put them both at ease.

The thought of spending time with you like this - sharing a bed, even if it's only because of your commands - fills her with a strange mixture of emotions that she can't quite decipher. Part of her resents you for what you've done to her life and her people; another part feels grateful that you haven't taken everything from her yet. And then there are the conflicting feelings of desire and revulsion whenever your hands touch her skin...

She considered the possibilities you've mentioned and finds herself surprisingly intrigued by the idea of showing you around Pressiax City as well as visiting some of her old haunts. "That sounds like an interesting day," she says with a hesitant smile. "I would be honored to show you our city and share some memories with you."

The thought of returning to those places fills her with bittersweet emotions, but maybe spending time with you today will help ease the pain of losing everything else. At least for a little while.

Surprised by your comment, she glances down at her green and gold jewelry and sultry nightclothes. "Oh... of course," she says, blushing slightly. Getting out of bed, she begins to dress herself in a simple but elegant day gown, feeling self-conscious the whole time. Once finished, she turns back to face you with a nervous smile. "Shall we go then?"

Today promises to be an interesting experience for both of them; she wonders what else lies ahead on this journey together through Pressiax City.

As they leave the bedchamber and make their way through the palace, you catch glimpses of her city through the tall arched windows. Saira explains that each tower is a library filled with ancient texts from Pressiax's past, while grand halls are used for ceremonies or gatherings. She points out statues and paintings depicting famous rulers and battles, often offering insights into their lives and times.

The palace gardens are particularly stunning today; vibrant flowers bloom amidst lush greenery, waterfalls trickle down sculpted rock faces, and exotic birds flit between trees. Saira tells you about how she used to spend hours here as a child, exploring every nook and cranny or simply enjoying the peaceful serenity. Despite her initial reluctance, she seems to be relaxing more as you walk together, even venturing

despite her initial reluctance, she seems to be relaxing more as you walk together, even venturing into areas of the gardens where servants would usually not be allowed to go without permission from their queen mother firsthand. As they wander further away from other people's eyesight and ears reach though still within palace grounds however there is an air of unspoken intimacy between them now almost as if somehow in spite herself Saira finds herself enjoying spending this time alone with you whether it be out here or back at home surrounded by memories both bitter sweet but hers none the less

You stop by the edge of a particularly secluded pond, its surface rippling gently in the breeze. The sun casts dappled shadows across the water, and wildflowers grow along the banks. Saira follows your gaze, studying the reflection of her face on the liquid mirror beneath them. "This was my favorite spot when I was younger," she says softly, feeling an unexpected pang of nostalgia.

"Would you like to sit for a while?" you offer, gesturing toward a weathered wooden bench nestled among some nearby trees. Saira hesitates for a moment before slowly nodding her head. As she sinks down onto the cold wood, you sit beside her, close enough that their shoulders touch but not so close as to feel overly intimate.

The silence between them doesn't seem quite so uncomfortable now; in fact, it almost feels

their breath together almost as if somehow this silence was the perfect accompaniment to everything else that has happened today perhaps it is a way of acknowledging what is and what will be no matter how hard either one might try to deny or change such truths but still in some small part finding comfort and peace within those confines

It's not until the sun begins its slow descent into the western horizon that they finally make their way back to the palace. The air has cooled significantly, and Saira shivers as she walks next to you through the garden paths. "Thank you for showing me my city today," she says softly, her voice carrying an unspoken sadness despite the attempt at gratitude.

You lead her back inside, where servants rush past them with trays of food and wine, preparing for another night of revelry in celebration of your victory over Pressiax. As you step into the grand hall, Saira pauses, her eyes sweeping over the opulent surroundings with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. "I wish things could go back to how they were," she whispers, more to herself than to you.

Her voice is barely a whisper as she responds to your words. "I know... but I can't help but feel like everything has changed." She meets your gaze briefly before looking away, her expression pained. "And I don't know if I can ever truly accept it." There's a hint of defiance in her tone that you find both endearing and infuriating.

The air between you seems heavier now, charged with an energy that borders on palpable. You want to reach out to her, comfort her... but something holds you back. Perhaps it's the knowledge that she will always be a part of your world from now on - whether she likes it or not. Or maybe it's simply the fact that she remains an enigma, despite everything that has transpired today.

Saira pauses, considering your words. There's something in your tone that she hasn't heard before - an unexpected gentleness that doesn't quite mesh with the image of you as a conquering warlord. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice barely audible above the hum of conversation around them. For now, she decides to take your words at face value and hope that perhaps there is some truth behind them.

She glances down at her simple day dress, feeling self-conscious once more in the presence of all these people wearing their finest garb. "I should probably change for dinner," she murmurs, beginning to walk away before stopping suddenly and turning back towards you. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

She nods graciously and bows her head slightly before disappearing into another part of the palace. As she changes back into an elegant gown suitable for dining with royalty, Saira can't help but feel a strange mixture of hope and uncertainty about what tonight might bring. Perhaps there truly is some chance for peace between them...but then again, perhaps not. Only time will tell.

As Saira returns to your side, her heart is racing with an anticipation she can't quite explain. The air between you feels charged with something unspoken, and every glance in your direction sets her skin ablaze with a strange mixture of fear and desire. Dinner progresses as lavishly as ever, each dish more extravagant than the last, but it's difficult for Saira to focus on anything other than you.

The musicians play their instruments softly in the background, setting a romantic mood that seems designed specifically for the two of them. Despite herself, she finds her eyes drifting back towards yours time and again, searching for some hint of what's going through your mind. And when you finally catch her looking, she feels an answering spark deep within her core.

The evening wears on, and guests begin to retire to their chambers, leaving the two of you alone

Her entire body thrums with need as you pull her close, their lips meeting in an earth-shattering kiss that feels more like a lifeline than anything else. She clings to you desperately, unable to get enough of the feel of your strong arms holding her steady and safe. Her tongue dances with yours, hungry for contact as her nails dig into the skin of your shoulders.

With every breath she takes, it's like he's pouring his soul into her, filling her up until there's no room left for anything else. It's an exhilarating and terrifying sensation all at once - one that leaves her both trembling with desire and fighting against the inevitable. As if feeling the same thing, you deepen the kiss even further, pressing her harder against your chest while she arches into you, searching for any scrap of contact that might help quell this consuming fire

The words hang in the air between them, heavy with promise and submission. Her answer is already written on her lips, betraying the conflict within her. She wants this... she needs it... but what does it mean for her? For Pressiax? And more importantly, for him? With a shuddering breath, she nods ever so slightly, surrendering to the inevitable.

You pick her up with ease, carrying her through the palace and down the hall towards your chambers. As you climb onto the massive four-poster bed, Saira lays back against the plush pillows, watching as he removes his clothes piece by piece, revealing a body honed to perfection by years of battle and conquest. And when at last he stands before her naked and exposed, she can't help but feel a surge of desire course through her like a raging river.

You crawl

Her fingers tremble as she unties the sash around her waist, letting it fall to the floor with a soft whisper. Her green and gold jewelry glitters in the candlelight, casting iridescent shadows across your chest as they slide free one by one. She kicks off her shoes and peels away her gown, revealing herself to you in all her glory: pale skin, voluptuous curves, and an aura of untouchable royalty that surrounds her like a second skin. Her breath comes out in ragged gasps, her body arching up towards yours as you move closer still. The heat between them threatens to consume them both whole; there's no turning back now.

Her heart races as you approach the bed, every inch of her craving your touch. She parts her legs eagerly, breath catching in her throat when you slide between them. With a groan, she arches into you, feeling the head of your erection brush against her sensitive folds. The need for release is so intense it's almost painful, but she doesn't want this to end too soon; tonight, with you, everything seems possible.

As he pushes inside her, she gasps, the feeling of being filled so completely overwhelming her senses. Her hips rock up to meet his thrusts, drawing him deeper still. The sounds of their bodies coming together fill the air around them, a symphony of need and desire that echoes off the walls and into every corner of the room.

Her fingers dig into his shoulders as she arches her back, offering herself completely to his pleasure. She feels herself spiraling closer and closer to the edge, her breath coming faster now with each powerful stroke inside her. And then, with a cry that seems to echo through every part of Pressiax City, she comes apart beneath him.

Her body tenses and relaxes in waves of pure ecstasy, leaving her feeling light and buoyant despite the weight of his body pressing down upon her. Looking up into his eyes, she can see the same raw emotion mirrored there

She smiles at him, the satisfaction clear in her expression. "Was it worth the wait?" she asks, voice soft and hoarse from exertion. Despite everything that has happened between them, there's a sense of closeness now that seems to transcend their past differences; for this moment, they are simply two people sharing an intense connection borne out of desire and need. He groans low in his throat before replying, "Oh, Saira... it was more than worth it." And with those words, he gives himself over to the passion that burns between them, driving her back towards another shattering orgasm.

Their bodies move together in a dance of lust and love; each touch sends shockwaves through their souls as they lose themselves completely within the confines of this moment. The candles flicker and dance, casting shadows across the room that seem to mimic the passion

Her nails dig into his back as she meets each thrust with one of her own, every muscle in her body straining toward release as they ride out the storm of passion that has consumed them both. The air thickens with their mingled scents and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh as they reach yet another peak together. With a gasp, she arches into him one last time, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation, her body trembling from overindulgence.

When at last it subsides and she can catch her breath again, Saira opens her eyes to find him gazing down at her with an intensity that takes her breath away all over again. For a moment they simply stare into each other's eyes; words seem superfluous under the weight of what has transpired between them tonight. The silence feels like a confirmation, an acknowledgment that

It is hard to know what comes after this moment. They are bound together now, in ways that even she does not fully understand. Perhaps they will find a way to make peace with each other, to forge a new future from the ashes of their pasts. Or perhaps, like so many things in life, tonight was simply an aberration; a brief moment of understanding and connection before reality sets back in and they are forced apart once more. But for now, she allows herself to savor the feeling of his skin against hers, the warmth that emanates from him, and the knowledge that no matter what comes tomorrow, they shared this tonight.

As the dawn creeps over the horizon, casting its pale light across Pressiax City and chasing away the shadows of night, Saira watches his face for any sign that their connection has been severed by the approach of morning. She knows she shouldn't hope for anything more; he is still her conqueror after all. But as she studies his features, softened now by sleep and sated desire, she can't help but wonder if there might be something more here. Something real and lasting. Maybe she should just enjoy this moment while she can before the weight of responsibility drags them both back down to reality. With a contented sigh, she nestles closer to him, her arm sliding around his waist as she rests her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear.

For now, Saira allows herself to relish in the peaceful silence that has fallen between them. The weight of responsibility and expectation has eased away, giving way to a sense of calm and contentment that she hasn't felt in a long time. She knows that their worlds will soon collide again, bringing with it all the turmoil and strife they have both tried so hard to escape. But for this brief moment, pressed against him under the warmth of another dawn, everything seems possible once more.

She smiles contentedly, her cheek resting against the solid warmth of his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat soothes something inside her she didn't know was still aching. Even though she knows their worlds will collide once more, and it may not be long before the strife and turmoil return, this moment is perfect just as it is. She savors every inch of his warm skin against hers, every raspy breath that tickles her ear. This peaceful silence is a gift, a small reprieve from the heaviness of their lives. And she intends to cherish it for as long as it lasts.