Once upon a time, in the southern mainland of Arkanara, lies the Kingdom of Incuria with its capital in Galatley. This is a tale of a special day, a day when the royal castle is more packed than ever with the noblest and most respected men and women from all over Arkanar. Representatives of allied kingdoms and estates, aristocrats, merchants, and famous warriors gather in the Triumphal Hall to celebrate King Inglud the Serpent Slayer's 60th birthday.
The Triumphal Hall has been the venue for every important ceremonial event, from the coronation of a king to his marriage. As guests arrive, they marvel at the exquisite drawings on the black walls and the perfectly rounded columns. Above them, scarlet tapestries with a three-headed bear devouring a snake, the cognizance of Incuria, hang proudly.
The air is thick with revelry, the tables loaded with greasy food and excellent booze, jesters dancing in multi-colored outfits, and bards playing lutes. The guests loudly chant Incurian songs, all in honor of King Inglud. But this year, something feels different.
Recent events have cast a shadow on the king's reputation. Rumors of political unrest and dissent have been spreading throughout the kingdom, and some say that the king's grip on power is weakening. Nonetheless, the celebration continues, and the king's loyal subjects raise their glasses in a toast to their beloved monarch, unaware of the troubles that lay ahead.
Inglud the Serpent-Slayer, also known as the Bear, was an unparalleled king and general of Incuria. His enemies trembled in fear and respected him greatly. With over a hundred victorious campaigns, dozens of conquered kingdoms, and thousands of slain foes to his name, he was a true legend. His massive hand could easily crush a human with a single blow, and his thick gray curls and beard gave him an air of wisdom that belied his ferocity. Despite his age, King Inglud still outshone many young warriors in every aspect of combat.
The guests at the castle drank deeply of ale and feasted on hearty fare as they toasted the king with loud exclamations of "For the king! For the king!" The warriors roared with laughter, spilling their cups of intoxicating ale as they reveled in the celebration.
The king raised his goblet, fashioned from the skull of a fallen enemy, and nodded his approval before wiping the froth from his beard.
"And for the queen!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"Yes! Yes! For the queen!" The warriors raised their goblets once more, timidly stealing glances at the beautiful Queen Nymira the Warrior, who was seated beside the king.
She wore a queen's green robe with a deep V-shaped neckline, and at only 41 years old, she had borne several children for the insatiable king, yet still looked perfect. The gray-eyed, buxom princess hailed from the Wooded Mountains, with mesmerizing curves and long golden hair tied in a bun beneath her crown. Despite giving birth five times, she still possessed a girlish body and kept herself in excellent shape to satisfy the king's needs and avoid giving him any reason to doubt their marriage. Every man in the castle secretly desired her, but all knew that the queen belonged solely to the king.
Nymiria smiled, her plump pink lips curling upwards as she ran her hands over her rounded belly. She was in the final month of her pregnancy, and everyone was eagerly anticipating the birth of the new successor. The king had even ordered the healers to stay sober in case of an early arrival.
"I have something to say," the king's bass voice boomed over the music and cheers of his guests. The hall fell silent as he deftly rose from his throne, clasping the armrest with one hand while raising his skull-shaped mug in the other.
"I want to thank everyone who came here today..." He paused for a moment and glanced around the room. "Today, I turn 60. I've lived long enough to see kingdoms rise and fall, to conquer enemies and make allies, to enjoy the finest feasts and the sweetest wines. But you know what I haven't been able to do yet? Figure out how to blow out all these candles in one breath!"
The king points to a massive cake with a ridiculous number of candles on it, eliciting laughter from the guests.
Inglud's expression turned serious as he prepared to broach an important topic.
"Seriously, though," he began, "right now, my eldest son Nome is leading our army to victory against the barbarians from Overseas. Let's raise a toast to him! Cheers!" The guests slammed their jugs onto the tables in agreement, shouting "For Nome!"
The King drained his skull-shaped goblet and exclaimed, "For NOME!" Beer dripped from his overgrown beard as he reclined back onto his throne, clutching his stomach and laughing. "Enjoy yourselves, drink and eat. It's all on me!" The hall once again filled with the sound of chatter and revelry.
As mentioned earlier, King Inglud had many children. Two of his daughters were married to kings from neighboring states, his eldest son Nome was currently on a campaign, and his youngest son Karlas had died in battle a couple of years ago. The only son present at the celebration was Darian, a twenty-two-year-old young man with brown hair. Leaning against the wall, the prince watched what was happening in the Triumphal Hall. All these feasts were alien to him.
Darian took a sip from his mug and gazed at the guests. A young girl in a corner tried to wink at him. He was fond of girls, but just like feasts, love affairs weren't actually his thing. His only goal was to earn respect and glory and to be known throughout Arkanar as a brave warrior, general, and king. Nevertheless, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many attempts he made, his older brother Nome was always one step ahead. Nome was better at everything: bigger, stronger, deadlier. He was the one son who would inherit the throne, the very throne that Darian desired for himself.
"I will return to my chambers, my love," Nymira said as she rose from the throne, clutching her stomach. A wet puddle appeared beneath her, indicating that her water had just broken. "Healers, come here!" the king yelled, grabbing the queen.
-
Everyone had gathered outside the queen's chambers - guards, entourage, and servants, except for the counselors. Darian stood aside, closer to the corridor walls, lost in thought. The childbirth lasted for several hours, stretching into the early hours of the morning.
For some reason, he remembered the old rumors about the King's mistresses who had died during childbirth due to the enormous size of their newborns. Only Queen Nymira was able to give birth to the King's offspring. It was probably just a myth propagated to make people believe that Inglud was not an ordinary man but possibly a demigod. To be honest, it was not so hard to be fooled, considering all of the King's sons and daughters were indeed huge. Queen Nymira's procreative abilities were undoubtedly worthy of attention and praise.
Finally, the king emerged from the queen's chambers, wiping his sweaty hands with a cloth handkerchief, and glanced at the shocked and timid crowd that had fallen silent. The king needed to speak first.
"The gods have blessed me with a son," he proudly announced.
The corridor erupted with cheers and congratulations, but Darian remained silent and watched from the sidelines.
"And what name have you given the new heir?" someone asked.
"I am still considering options. For now, our queen needs rest," he replied, scanning the crowd. When his gaze fell upon Darian, he spoke with a thunderous voice. "Leave me and Darian alone. All of you."
The crowd quickly dispersed as the king ordered everyone to leave him and Darian alone. The last time Inglud had made such a request was almost a year ago when Karlas, Darian's younger brother, died. A few tears had been shed for him, as it was told that Karlas had died in a battle like a worthy Incurian. Only Darian and Inglud knew that Karlas had actually fallen off his horse and broken his neck like a weak, unworthy man during a battle with barbarians.
"It should have been you... Not him," the king had told Darian that night, his eyes full of silent fury at the gods and destiny.
Darian didn't even try to guess what Inglud was going to say to him now.
"I haven't heard from Nome in a long time," Inglud finally started, as the torches and fire on the walls became their only company. He sounded tired and slightly desperate. "I'm afraid he will not return. The last time we received word from him was a month ago, and things were not going well for his army. Perhaps the barbarians are stronger than we thought."
"He will return, my king. I promise."
"No need for empty promises, boy. If he returns without a victory, it's better not to return at all," Inglud said, straightening up to his full height. "And yet, I still have you, the representative of my line. My family line must continue to exist at any cost. Am I right?"
"Yes, my king," Darian nodded.
"Our queen gave birth to another child tonight, but I am getting old and my time will soon come to an end," Inglud said. "Therefore, I have decided that someone else should carry on my Serpent-Slayer line."
He carefully scrutinized Darian through bushy eyebrows.
"While the fate of Nome remains unknown to us, I want you to continue my bloodline. Find a woman worthy of you and breed."
Darian tried to hide his confusion and managed a slight nod in response, still processing what he had just heard.
"It is your sacred duty and the command of the king. Do not disappoint me, Darian..."
"Yes, my king," Darian replied, bowing low.
"You may go now. Leave."
He quickly bowed once again and moved away, turning a corner and suddenly encountering a group of knights and even one of the king's counselors, Lokir. The small balding man had a squeaky voice and outrageous ambitions.
"Well, what did the king say?" the counselor demanded, suddenly standing in front of Darian, breathing garlic as always. He looked up at Darian from two heads lower.
"That is not for you to know," Darian replied curtly, pushing Lokir aside to avoid the stench of his breath.
"Arrogant boy! How dare you?" Lokir sputtered.
"Know your place, counselor," Darian retorted.
The head of the king's guard and queen's bodyguard, Braga, appeared as torchlights reflected off his bald head. He never concealed his disgust for Darian, as well as for the other sons of the king.
"I advise you to speak with more respect to the counselor," said Braga, his deep voice carrying an air of authority.
"I dare to speak with him the way he deserves," replied Darian, his tone laced with defiance.
"We are the reason this kingdom still exists, boy," Lokir interjected, his voice high-pitched and unpleasant. "So know your place. You will not become a king. Nome will take the crown, won't he?" The counselor giggled, revealing his yellowed teeth. "Boy."
The next moment Dairan drew a dagger, putting the blade right to the counselor's neck "Go on, call me 'boy' again."
The armed mob behind Braga immediately drew their swords. Head of king's guard put his hand on the hilt of his sword, not a single muscle on his face flinching. Only torchlight flickered across his troll-like head.
"You have no chance against all of us. If you harm the counselor, you'll have to deal with me and all the king's guards, boy."
Darian met each knight's gaze with his dark brown eyes, unafraid. Finally, he slowly withdrew the blade from Lokir's pale neck and returned it to his belt.
"One day the king will die, and no one will be there to keep you in this position... or even keep you alive, Braga."
The troll-like guard smirked and mockingly bowed his head. "Same to you... my prince."
With that, Darian strode down the corridor, pushing aside the knights who blocked his path.
"You will regret this!" Lokir shouted, rubbing his red throat.
Darian didn't look back. He knew that his defiance had put a target on his back, but he also knew that he was the only one who could secure the future of the Serpent-Slayer line.
CHAPTER 1
Darian made his way to the queen's chamber with the intention of checking on his mother and newborn brother. As he approached the entrance, he found it empty. He adjusted his leather cloak and entered the queen's chamber without knocking. He slowly opened one of the large double doors and peered inside, taking in the opulent decor.
The walls and floor were adorned with dark gold and silver, and the soft light of the hearth illuminated the room. In the center of it stood a king-sized double bed with intricate wooden patterns above a huge red carpet.
/On this bed all descendants were conceived/. It ran through his head for some reason.
As Darian entered the queen's quarters without permission, he knew he was taking a risk. Queen Nymira was known for her temper and dislike of unexpected visitors. But he couldn't help but be drawn to her peaceful slumber, dressed in a white satin nightgown that accentuated her delicate features.
He approached the bed with caution, trying not to wake her. Despite her exhaustion and weariness, there was a certain grace and beauty to her form that caught his eye. As he looked upon her, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind, one that he couldn't ignore.
/Still, the mother is gorgeous./
Darian marveled at how stunning his mother looked, even after giving birth multiple times. He couldn't help but wonder how she managed to maintain such beauty and elegance.
"Who's there?" Nymira rubbed her tired eyes with her left hand and yawned with a small, cute mouth. "Inglud, is that you?"
"It's me"
"Oh. Darian...What are you doing here? Are you watching me sleep?" She said it with a little irritation and got up from the bed. Her left breast nearly fell out of nighty as Darian made an effort to look away.
She shook back her wet braids and walked gracefully over to a table near the fireplace, which he now noticed was equipped with a small bed for the newborn child.
"I just wanted to visit you, mother." Darian walked around the bed and approached her from behind, peering over her shoulder. Unsure of what to say, he asked hesitantly. "Was the birth difficult?"
"It's kind of you to worry about me," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice as she brushed a damp strand of hair from her face. "But childbirth is not something that concerns me. I am a strong, capable, and beautiful woman, after all. That's why your father is not afraid to conceive new heirs with me."
Darian tried to hide his discomfort at his mother's words and shifted his weight from one foot to another.
"I'm glad to hear that everything went well," he said, trying to sound neutral. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the mention of his father. Nymira always had a way of making her beauty and fertility known to everyone around her. He cleared his throat and gestured towards the sleeping baby.
"And how is the little one?"
Nymira's face softened as she looked down at the newborn.
"He's doing well and he's name is Tartuff. A strong and healthy boy, just like his siblings."
Darian nodded, relieved to hear that his new brother was healthy. He wondered if he would ever get used to the constant stream of new siblings that seemed to appear every year. But for now, he was content to watch his mother dote on the newborn and bask in the warmth of the queen's chambers.
As she stood there, slightly shorter than him, Darian's eyes flickered down to the table below. He could see what was happening beneath it, and more besides. He couldn't help but glance at the plunging neckline of her nightgown, the curve of her neck, the smooth expanse of her skin. But he quickly averted his gaze, afraid of being caught.
Darian felt a sudden rush of warmth enveloping him. A sense of serenity and lightness washed over him, easing his racing heart. The scent of his mother, a heady mix of milk, fragrant flowers, and sweet mint, greeted his senses, further soothing his troubled mind.
Despite coming to see his newborn brother, Darian found himself lost in the moment, lost in the embrace of the tranquil atmosphere. The worries that had been weighing him down seemed to fade away as he stood there, taking in the comforting ambiance. For a brief moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist, and he was left with nothing but peace and tranquility.
"Nome was very big when he was born, a true Incurian one and truly King's son."
Despite Nymira's voice droning on in the background, Darian found his attention drifting elsewhere. His gaze was fixed on the delicate straps of her nightgown, his fingers itching to touch them. It was as if he was under some kind of enchantment, captivated by the alluring garment that clung to Nymira's curves.
As his fingers brushed against the strap, a jolt of electricity coursed through his body, and without thinking, he pulled it off. The fabric slid off her shoulder, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her skin and exposing half of her breast, and Darian felt a surge of desire coursing through him. For a moment, he was lost in the sensation, the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the heady scent of her perfume filling his senses.
But before he could fully comprehend what he had done, she quickly covered herself up and slightly pushed Darian away.
"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. "Have you lost your mind? Are you still drunk?"
Darian recoiled, feeling the weight of his mistake crashing down on him. "I...I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice laced with shame. "I didn't mean to do that. I was just...I don't know. I must still be drunk."
He could see in Nymira's eyes that he had crossed a line. He felt like a delinquent youth, caught in the act of doing something terribly wrong. "I'll go," he said softly, turning to leave. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."
As he walked away, his mind was a jumble of emotions. He felt guilty, embarrassed, and confused all at once. He knew he had to make things right, but he had no idea how.
He left the room and tried to catch his breath. A high-pitched voice pierced the darkness of the corridor. It was Councilor Lokir, his tone laced with a mixture of lust and envy.
"The most beautiful women are always the ones who have just given birth," Lokir crooned. "They're the sexiest, sweetest, and juiciest. I envy the king. He's going to have a lot of fun tonight."
Darian felt a wave of revulsion wash over him as he listened to Lokir's lewd remarks. The thought of someone finding pleasure in the vulnerability of new mothers sickened him.
As he turned to leave, Darian caught a whiff of something foul in the air. It was the stench of corruption, the rot of a system that allowed men like Lokir to hold power and prey on the innocent. He felt a surge of anger rising within him, a fire that threatened to consume him.
But for now, all he could do was retreat. He took a deep breath and headed back, determined to put as much distance between himself and Lokir as possible.
CHAPTER 2
Darian hurried back to his chambers, his face still flushed with embarrassment. He splashed cold water from the oak bucket onto his face, hoping to calm his nerves.
His chambers were situated in the most secluded corner of the castle, several floors below the royal dungeon that had once held traitors and prisoners of war. It had been years since anyone had been imprisoned there, and Darian had begun to think that he was the only constant prisoner in that part of the castle, albeit with a few extra comforts. His cell was just a few floors above, providing him with a measure of privacy that was rare in the bustling castle.
Darian sneered as he dried his face with a rough linen cloth, the king's words echoing in his head like a cruel joke. "Continue the Serpent-Slayer bloodline," he had said. "This is your sacred duty."
"My sacred duty to do that?" Darian muttered as he approached the window. "Not to win a war like Nome, but to breed?" A cool wind blew across his flushed face, dissipating the last traces of his blush. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, when a knock sounded at his double doors.
"May I come in, my prince?" It was Narim, his oldest friend and second counselor. Darian felt a small sense of relief at the sound of his voice. Narim had always been there to help him since childhood.
Narim and Lokir, the other counselor to the king, were constantly at odds with each other, always arguing and finding counterarguments to each other's words. Despite their mutual animosity, however, the king considered them both invaluable servants to the kingdom.
"You may come in," Darian said, grateful for the distraction.
An old man with deeply wrinkled skin and short white braids shuffled into the modest chamber, his movements sluggish. It was Narim's father, an esteemed counselor in his own right, who had served the kingdom for decades.
"Congratulations on the birth of your brother, my prince," Narim said as he entered the chamber.
Darian scoffed. "I'm not the one who should be praised. Congratulate the king since he's the one who conceived the child."
Narim looked at Darian with concern. "Is something troubling you, my prince? I'm always here to listen."
Darian shook his head. "The king just ordered me to find a wife. He's afraid Nome won't return from war."
Narim nodded understandingly. "Without Nome and his army, the kingdom's enemies will try to take the throne. And there are rumors of a spy in the castle. Lokir even suggested that the spy is you."
"I bet he did. I'm tired of the fact that no one takes me seriously!" Darian clenched his jaw in anger and knocked over a bucket of water.
Narim stepped aside to keep his cassock from getting wet.
"You think I'm not scary enough? You think I can't keep this kingdom in fear?" Darian continued, raising the bucket back.
Narim looked at him thoughtfully. "A formidable appearance alone is not enough to instill fear in your enemies. Perhaps something terrifying or reckless should be done."
Darian raised an eyebrow. "Reckless? What do you have in mind?"
Narim shrugged. "I'm only a counselor, my prince. But if you want my opinion, finding a worthy woman to be your wife might help."
Darian sighed. "I suppose you're right. Can you help me find one?"
Narim smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid that's not within my duties as a counselor, my prince."
Darian nodded in understanding. "Very well. Thank you for your visit then."
The counselor went to the door as he was about to leave, but on the very threshold, the old man stopped and turned around heavily, straining old bones.
"I almost forgot. As you asked I brought you the book and, as you asked" He friendly smiled. "No one knows about it. I have put it in your chest."
"Thank you, Narim," Darian replied with a nod of gratitude.
"Have a nice read, my friend," Narim said before turning to leave.
Darian wasted no time in finding a book amidst the jumble of items in his chest. The green half-print cover caught his eye, and he read the inscription: "About the Serpent-Slayers and the Kingdom of Incuria," by Lokir.
He couldn't help but remember how Lokir used to pester him with endless inquiries from that very book. "If you don't know your own history, what are you good for, huh?" he'd say. But despite Lokir's annoying persistence, Darian knew that this book was approved by the Masters of Historiography, so at Narim's insistence, he had decided to read it after all. And he was determined that Lokir must never know anything about it.
Finally settling in at his desk, Darian opened the book and began to read. The words on the page quickly captured his attention, and he found himself drawn into the history of his kingdom. As the hours passed and the sun began to set, Darian's eyes grew heavy with tiredness and the beer in his blood, but he kept reading.
Then, a particular chapter caught his attention. Lokir had a habit of using the phrase "By untrue rumors..." to describe information that made Incuria look bad, supposedly spread by enemies, but which Darian knew was actually true. This time, Darian stumbled upon another such "untrue rumor."
"According to untrue rumors, Prince Angus allegedly turned his eyes to his own mother, Queen Libra, after his coronation, instead of looking for a wife. Allegedly, the prince took the queen by force and henceforth used her at his will. I hasten to point out that this is all a vile lie. Prince Angus is one of the greatest of the Serpent Slayer's family line and one of the greatest commanders of Incuria."
Darian's mind was a blur as he slumped back in his chair, his thoughts drifting into dark and dangerous territory. He tried to shake the images from his head, but they clung to him stubbornly like a bad hangover. The beer in his blood wasn't helping matters either, making everything before him swirl and distort like a hallucination.
A sudden memory of the queen's chambers invaded his thoughts, sending a jolt of guilt and desire through his body. He could feel his hand reaching for her, as if pulled by some invisible force, almost seeing her naked body before him. He shook his head, trying to clear the unwanted thoughts from his mind, but they lingered like a stubborn stain.
Darian rose abruptly from his seat, feeling the cool evening breeze on his face as he tried to gather his thoughts.
/I shouldn't think about such things....its drink's fault/
He glanced back at the book lying on his desk, the page still open to the damning accusation against Prince Angus. He slammed the book shut and went to bed, hoping to clear his mind of the unwanted thoughts.
----
As the days passed, King Inglud grew increasingly impatient for Darian to choose a wife. But the prince's thoughts remained in turmoil, unable to find the right match. On a quiet morning, Darian found himself standing in front of queen's chambers once more. He entered without looking up, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts. Only when he had crossed halfway across the room did he realize Nymira was breastfeeding her child near the window.
"I beg your pardon, my queen." Darian's face flushed with embarrassment. He should have knocked before entering.
"It's all right," Nymira replied, stepping back from the window and towards the fireplace. "You have always been welcome here, even unannounced. Besides, I'm sure you've seen me half-naked before."
Darian couldn't help but feel uneasy at her words. He recalled the events of the previous day and wondered if mother had become colder towards him after their encounter.
"I should probably come back another time." Darian bowed, ready to turn around and leave.
"Would you like to hold him?" Nymira held the baby out to him.
Darian hesitated for a moment before nodding, his gaze fixed on the baby in her arms. As she passed the child to him, Darian struggled to keep his eyes from wandering downward.
Nymira walked over and held the baby out into his arms, pulling child away from her lush breast. He saw mother's nipple for a brief moment before she covered it with her nightgown.
"The king will be here shortly. Have you decided on your wife yet? Is that what you came to discuss?" Nymira's tone was polite but distant, as though she were simply going through the motions of a conversation. Darian shook his head.
"Not yet. I am still considering my options."
Darian gazed down at Tartuf. The child's tiny hands wrapped around his own fingers.
As Nymira went to change, Darian turned away, gently bouncing the child in his arms. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders as he considered the daunting task of choosing a wife. The King's expectations were high.
"The requirements of conquerors," he repeated, his mind racing with thoughts of political strategy and dynastic succession. "It's not just about love, is it?"
Nymira emerged from the closet, now dressed in a new green nightgown with a sweetheart neckline. Her blond hair was twisted up into a bun, and Darian couldn't help but notice the curve of her neck and the delicate lines of her collarbone.
"You can give him to me now," she said, holding out her hands for Tartuf. Darian reluctantly handed the child back, feeling a pang of regret as he watched Nymira cradle him to her chest.
"You're a bad babysitter," she teased, and Darian couldn't help but grin.
"I'll be better with one of mine," he replied wistfully, his mind drifting to a future that might never come to pass.
As they stood in silence, the crackling of the fire and the occasional whimper of the child filling the room, Darian felt a sudden sense of connection to his mother.
Perhaps it was the flickering flames casting a soft glow on her features, or the vulnerability of the young child in her arms. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if there was more to her than he had ever known.
"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence. "For barging in here like this. I should have knocked."
Nymira smiled at him, a glint of mischief in her eye. "Don't worry about it," she said.
"You're always welcome here, whether I'm dressed or not."
Nymira's gaze drifted over him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You know, I've been thinking," she began. "Maybe it's time we spend more time together, just the two of us. We can go for walks, talk about anything and everything."
Darian's eyes widened in surprise. It had been years since they had done anything like that. He had always assumed that his mother was too busy with her duties as queen to spend time with him.
"Guess It wouldn't be so bad," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, mother."
The doors creaked open, as they had done so many times before, and Braga barged in, bellowing out his usual command.
"The King demands your presence in the throne room, my lady," he announced, his tone harsh and gruff.
Nymira let out a weary sigh. "Very well," she said, resigned. "Please summon Gertrude to take the child."
Turning her attention back to Darian, she added, "I apologize for the abruptness of my departure, Darian. Duty calls."
"It's quite alright," Darian replied, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I'll take my leave then," he muttered, and walked out of the chamber, the door shutting behind him with a resounding thud.
CHAPTER 3
That night, memories flooded Darian's mind of a warm summer day from years ago.
The memory of Inguria battling against the first Barbarian attacks, and he, Nome, and other soldiers sitting around a crackling campfire, singing songs. The camaraderie and sense of brotherhood among the soldiers were palpable. Nome, with his bushy chestnut beard, had gazed up at the star-filled sky and said, "The air of home is sweeter than honey."
Darian, taking a bite of the juicy apple he had plucked from a nearby tree, had voiced his concern. "But aren't you afraid of tomorrow's battle? We could die tomorrow."
"It's better to die fighting for our freedom than to live without it," replied Nome. "To live as we choose, eat until our bellies are full, and sleep with whomever we please." The soldiers nodded in agreement, their voices joining in support of Nome's words. His eloquence never failed to inspire them.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers broke the moment with a joke. "I'm in love with my aunt. Can I sleep with her?" he laughed.
Nome's response was quick, "If you're worthy of her, my friend, then you can. That's freedom. Marry and sleep with whoever you want. Even with your own mother."
The laughter and clinking of beer glasses filled the air as they all cheered to freedom, including Darian.
Years later, as Darian got up from his bed, the memory of that night still lingered. Dawn was breaking outside, and he took out the book.
"According to untrue rumors, Prince Angus allegedly turned his eyes to his own mother, Queen Libra, after his coronation, instead of looking for a wife. Allegedly, the prince took the queen by force and henceforth used her at his will".
His eyes scanned the page, and he continued reading. "Rumors are silent as to whether Angus had children as a result of intercourse with the queen." He closed the book, but the words lingered in his mind, stirring up a new voice inside his head. The voice whispered, "Who is more worthy to continue the Serpent-Slayer bloodline than his mother? She is the only queen capable of bringing Serpent Slayers to life."
Darian's thoughts wandered to Nymira, and he felt a longing to touch her. Why would he bother looking for someone else when he already had her? He questioned himself. Wasn't that what freedom was all about? To marry and sleep with whomever you wanted? He knew he was treading on dangerous territory, but the temptation was too strong to resist.
Darian found his thoughts drifting back to Prince Angus once again. What was it that drew him to this forbidden desire? As he entertained visions of himself as king, Darian felt the seductive pull of absolute power and the exhilarating freedom that came with it. The allure of indulging in his most illicit desires was impossible to resist. And ultimately Prince Angus gave in to temptation. He fucked the most unattainable woman in every man's life. His own mother. And at this very moment he became "Angus The Great".
Finally his inner voices became meaningful.
--
As the sun began to set, Darian made his way towards the queen's chambers, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Braga, the guard posted outside, eyed him warily before reluctantly granting him entrance.
"May I come in, mother?" Darian asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors. Nymira looked up from her desk, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"Of course, Darian. I was just writing letters to your sisters before retiring for the night." Gertrude, Nymira's faithful servant, bustled around the room tidying up, casting a curious glance at Darian as he entered. The sweet scent of mint filled the air, and Darian couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease wash over him.
He suddenly realized the absurdity of his earlier thoughts, but he pushed them aside and focused on the present moment.
"Would you like me to send a message to your sisters on your behalf?" Nymira asked, her tone gentle.
Darian let out a derisive snort. "I thought they were enamored with the insipid prince they married. They can now face the consequences of their choices."
"Please refrain from speaking of your sisters in such a disrespectful manner in my presence...Gertrude, leave us, please."
The maid bowed and walked out the door. The queen dipped her quill into the inkwell and continued writing.
"Tomorrow I plan to embark on a horseback ride. Would you care to join me, Darian?"
Darian hesitated, "I fear that the king would not approve of me taking leisurely horse rides instead of attending to my duties."
Nymira flashed a reassuring smile, "Leave that to me. I will speak to the king about it. Besides, I require assistance in calming down the horses. As you know, it is mating season, and our prized stallion seems to have forgotten that his own mother is in the stable. We should avoid them breeding."
Darian felt a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him at the thought of accompanying his mother on a ride. "I will be honored to help you, my queen," he replied, trying to hide his eagerness.
"That's good. By the way, have you found a wife for yourself?" she asked.
Darian nodded, and as he did, he noticed a change in the queen's usually stern countenance. Her gray eyes softened as she regarded him.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said, setting aside her quill and rising from her chair. "The king will be pleased."
As she stood up, Darian placed a hand on her shoulder to help her up. His eyes trailed down her body, drawn to the curves that were accentuated by her attire. He couldn't help but notice the warmth of her soft skin beneath his touch, and he was tempted to explore the curves of her body with his hand.
"What are you doing?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice as she took his hands and removed them from her waist.
"You know that I love you?" Darian took a deep breath.
Nymira's face registered a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She wasn't sure what to make of Darian's sudden declaration of love. Was he playing some kind of game?
"Of course I know that, Darian," she said. "But what you just did was completely inappropriate."
As his hand reached out to caress her hair, he leaned in for a kiss. Their lips touched in a fiery embrace, and Darian savored the taste of her mouth, exploring every inch of it until she abruptly pushed him away. "What do you think you're doing?"
"It was nothing more than an innocent kiss."
"It didn't feel that way," Nymira shot back, her voice laced with disappointment and anger. She pulled away from his arms. "That's enough. You better go. Braga!"
The bald guard burst into the chambers at her command.
"Yes, my queen," he said, his eyes darting between Nymira and Darian.
"Take the prince out," Nymira instructed. "He's not feeling well today." With that, she walked over to her youngest son's bed.
Without a word, the warrior grabbed the prince's arm and led him out of the chambers and into the dimly lit corridor.
"Stop touching me," Darian seethed, yanking his arm away from Braga's grasp.
"Do you know where your chambers are? Go back there," Braga retorted, his voice firm and unyielding. Darian's cheeks flushed with anger as he watched Braga walk away. He couldn't believe the audacity of the warrior, treating him like a child. But deep down, Darian knew that he was partly to blame for the situation he now found himself in.
As he walked down the dimly lit hallway, Narim appeared beside him.
"What happened in there?" Narim asked, his voice thick with concern.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Just pissed off the queen a little." Darian replied, his hand subconsciously touching his lips, still tingling from the memory of the recent kiss
"Be careful not to make our queen angry. She's called Nymira the Warrior for a reason," Narim warned with serious tone. "Young women from Wooded Mountains are trained to defend themselves and fight. They make excellent merchants and warriors, but few become wives of kings. There was one occasion when a spy infiltrated our castle and disguised himself as a guard. He intended to kill the queen but was met with fierce resistance. Needless to say, he didn't leave her chambers alive. Listen, Darian. You're a good kid. But you need to start thinking before you act. And you need to learn to control your impulses. If you don't, you're going to end up doing something you regret."
"May I ask what happened to the spy?" Darian inquired.
"You may, but I won't answer," Narim replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The queen doesn't like to speak of it."
He had always known that his mother was a formidable warrior, but he had never heard of this particular incident before. He wondered what other secrets lay hidden in her past, and if he would ever uncover them.
"Remember, queen belongs only to the king. Everyone knows it" Narim concluded.
"We'll see," Darian thought to himself. The next morning, as Prince Darian stepped out onto the palace grounds, he was surprised to see Queen Nymira already waiting for him with their horses saddled and ready to ride. Despite what happened, she had not canceled her offer of a horseback ride.
But still as they ventured into the woods, an eerie silence hung between two. Nymira kept her distance, wordlessly leading the way while Darian trailed behind on his stallion. Despite the tension, Darian couldn't help but notice how regal and poised she looked in her riding outfit, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her dress was made of the finest silk, the fabric shimmering in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. A simple leather belt cinched in at the queen's waist, giving the dress a flattering silhouette while still allowing for ease of movement as she rode. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, a few tendrils framing her delicate features. Despite the ornate nature of her attire, the queen seemed perfectly at ease on horseback.
With a calculated glance around, Darian ascertained that they had successfully eluded any potential guards. Satisfied, he turned to his Mother.
"Are you still angry about what happened yesterday?" he asked.
Nymira's expression slightly softened. "No. I'm not angry."
"I told you, it was just an innocent kiss." Darian paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "I mean, it's not like I asked you to marry me or anything," he smiled, hoping to ease the tension between them.
Nymira's face darkened, a note of warning creeping into her voice. "You can't do things like that to me, Darian. It's not appropriate. I know you didn't mean any harm," she paused for a moment. "I am your Mother, but I am also your queen and I must maintain a level of authority and respect that is necessary for the good of our kingdom. Our relationship as mother and son is just as important, but it is a separate matter entirely. You cannot kiss me like that. It's not appropriate for a son to kiss mother in such a way"
After nodding, he waited a moment before asking, "I was wondering, though, how familiar are you with Serpent-Slayer's history, my queen?"
Nymira shook her head. "Not good enough, I think," she admitted. "My attention has always been on the welfare of our people, not the exploits of our past heroes. Why would you ask?"
"It's... nothing." Darian hesitated; a small smile crossed his lips before he plunged ahead with another question. "And still, why did you decide to become a queen? Did you ever find pleasure in this marriage?"
Her expression turned cold. "Feeling pleasure is not a part of my duties as a queen. You are old enough to understand me. Let's just enjoy the ride now," she said, nudging her horse forward.
As they reached a clearing, Nymira reined in her horse and turned to Darian. "This is a lovely spot. Don't you think?"
Darian looked around, taking in the beauty of their surroundings. A burling waterstream meandered around, and wildflowers of every hue dotted the grassy expanse.
Nymira dismounted her horse and walked toward the water's edge, the sound of the stream rippling through the peaceful forest. She paused, looking out over the view before her. With a gentle touch, she trailed her fingertips over the cool water's surface, and her dress lifted slightly in the back, revealing a hint of her bare ankles.
Darian turned away, quickly dismounting. "Hush, lad," he whispered to the horse, patting it gently.
"I love places like this," she said.
Darian stepped closer, joining her at the water's edge. He looked down into the surface of the stream and suddenly asked a question. "Do you miss Karlas?" he said, referring to his younger brother who had died a few years ago.
"He died like a true warrior," Nymira replied with steady voice. "Why should I be sad or miss him?"
"The king does. And he thinks me unworthy. The worst of all Serpent-Slayers. The weakest one," He smiled wryly, throwing a small pebble into the stream. "But not you. No... You don't think of me that way, do you?" he added abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond. "And that was one of the reasons why you were always special to me, Mother"
Queen Nymira's plump lips curled upwards into a warm smile, the light gleaming in her gray eyes.
"You always knew how to make me feel better," Nymira responded.
But before she could say more, a sudden jolt from a horse behind caused Nymira to lose her balance and tumble into the cool, rushing stream below. Darian's heart leapt as he watched his Mother's drenched form being swept away by the current.
Reacting quickly, he scrambled down the embankment and into the water, fighting the icy grip of the stream to reach Nymira's side. As he pulled her upright, back to the ground, his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to every detail of her body, now visible through the clinging fabric of her wet dress. Her slender shoulders, now shivering with cold, the delicate curve of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts beneath the sodden cloth. His eyes tracing every contour of his Mother's body now revealed through the soaked fabric of the dress.
For a moment, Darian forgot all else, lost in the overwhelming emotions. Only the sound of Mother's ragged breathing, her wet hair clinging to her face, the scent of the forest and the rushing water surrounding them, brought him back to reality.
"Queen. Are you hurt?" he exclaimed breathlessly, pressing his body against her thighs. His dick pressed precisely against her damp lush thighs through the wet clothes, and he was sure she felt it.
Nymira, whose cheeks flushed with embarrassment, gently pushed Darian away.
"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, straightening her dress and smoothing back her hair, feeling Darian's touch.
Her eyes darted to the water's edge, where they found a bizarre sight awaiting them. His stallion, who was biologically Nymira's horse's son, had mounted his mother in a strange and unsettling display of nature's unpredictable ways, and the two animals were now entwined in a mating ritual, their bodies pulsating with raw, primal energy.
Nymira breathing quickened, but was it because of the sight of the entwined animals? Or because of the way her son's body brushed against hers as they stood side by side, watching the scene unfold. She felt the heat of his skin seep through her clothes and onto her bare flesh. She could feel the heat of his breath against the nape of her neck, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through her. His lips were dangerously close to her ear.
Darian chuckled at the scene before them, "Well, I guess that's nature."
"We should take them off each other"
Together, they approached the entwined animals, careful not to startle them. Darian could feel the heat of the queen's body next to his, her wet dress brushing against his skin with each step they took.
"Push your stallion aside," she said, her voice shaking with a mixture of discomfort.
As they worked to separate the horses, Darian couldn't help but notice how strikingly beautiful the queen looked, even in the midst of this unexpected situation. Her hair was slicked white, water droplets clinging to her long lashes and running down her flushed cheeks. Her dress clung to her body like a second skin, the wet fabric accentuating every curve and contour. He couldn't stop looking down, below her waist, where he had a small view of her vagina and blonde pubic hair. Realisation of seeing her private parts sent shivers down his spine.
Despite his best efforts to avert the gaze, his eyes kept straying to queen's figure, drinking in every inch of her body. He tried to resist, but the more he struggled, the more his eyes were drawn to the queen. He couldn't deny that Nymira's age only added to her beauty, giving her a regal and timeless quality that set queen apart from the younger women in the kingdom.
Darian rubbed his eyes, trying to shake himself out of this trance-like state and focus on the situation at hand. As he struggled to make sense of his feelings, he noticed the concern etched across his mother's face.
"She saw where I looked", he thought.
"Darian, are you alright?" Nymira asked, her voice heavy with concern.
Darian nodded, unable to find own voice.
Nymira, for her part, felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks as Darian's eyes lingered on her form. She quickly tried to compose herself, hoping that the strange incident would soon be over.
Finally, with a great effort, Darian managed to separate the horses and lead them away from the water.
"Let's return to the castle. I'm cold and need to change," she said, relieved to leave the awkward situation.
"Yes, of course," Darian replied.
He mounted his stallion quickly, not to rush back to the castle, but to conceal his boner, which threatened to erupt from even the slightest touch. As they went back to the castle, the memory of the horse's actions lingered in the air between them. It was a strange reminder of the unpredictable nature of the world and the primal forces that govern it.
====
CHAPTER 5. CONFESSION TO THE KING
The throne room was uncharacteristically silent, save for the occasional rustling of robes as the King and his counselors took their seats. Prince Darian stood at the center of it, his eyes scanning the empty space, awaiting Inglud's words.
Inglud cleared his throat and spoke with a regal cadence, as if the room was filled with a grand audience. "Today, we gather here to determine the identity of your future bride. Where is your betrothed, Prince Darian?"
"She is here, my King," Darian replied confidently.
"Here? Lokir, Narim, do you see anyone other than Darian in this room?"
"No, my King," the counselors replied in unison.
"Neither do I. Are you playing games with me, Darian?"
"No, my King," Darian replied, maintaining his composure. "I have thought long and hard about your words regarding finding a worthy bride."
The King's expression softened, intrigued by this response. "And what have you decided?"
"That the only one worthy is Queen Nymira."
The King's expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief. "But Queen Nymira is your mother," he said, as if the prince had forgotten.
The prince met the King's gaze without flinching. "I truly believe that she is the best candidate."
A stunned silence filled the room as everyone processed the Prince's unexpected proclamation. Lokir's crooked smile revealed his yellowed teeth, while Narim's face remained unreadable and placid.
"Seems like Darian finds it's funny. Leave us," Inglud took off his crown and slowly descended from the throne to Darian as counselors left the room. "Explain yourself," King stood right over Darian." Right now!"
Darian remained outwardly calm, though his heart was pounding in his chest. "You said my future wife must be worthy. Who could be more worthy than Queen Nymira? She has already birthed Serpent-Slayers and could bear more."
"With you?" he sneered. "You are a complete disappointment, Darian. I had hoped for better. I thought you could at least find yourself a woman, but I see now you can't even do that. Forget everything I told you. Your mother will continue our family line and bear more children. And you. I'll deal with you later," Inglud's voice trailed off. "Take this fool away."
Without a word, the guards entered the room and led Darian away to his chambers. Despite the king's words, Darian remained resolute and focused, his mind already turning to his next move.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Darian reflected on the events of the past few days, his mind racing with possibilities and questions. Was this all a coincidence, or was it destiny? His heart beat with excitement at the thought of what was to come.
"I am ready," he whispered to himself. "I am ready to become Darian the Great."
The weight of guilt hung heavily on him as he carefully extracted a brick from the wall, revealing a small compartment where he had hidden precious belongings as a child. Only he and Narim knew of this secret hiding spot, and now it would serve a different purpose. With a trembling hand, he placed the small bundle inside, the bundle that held the fate of a life in its hands.
===
Darian strode purposefully towards the ornate doors leading to the queen's chambers.
As he approached, Braga stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You are not allowed to be here," he barked like a dog.
"I want to talk to the queen"
A sudden hush fell over the chamber as a voice called out from behind the doors. "Who's there, Braga?"
"The prince has come, my queen," Braga responded, stepping aside.
"Let him in."
"As you wish, my queen," Braga said his tone deferential as he opened the door and allowed Darian to enter.
As Darian stepped into the room, his eyes fell upon Nymira, who was gently cradling Tartuff and preparing him for slumber. She was dressed in a flowing emerald gown, her hair falling in loose waves around her face. The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a soft, ethereal glow upon her delicate features, and Darian found himself utterly entranced by her beauty.
"I hope you came to apologize," Nymira said as she placed the sleeping baby in a bed full of soft quilts. "Inglud told me everything. How could you say something like that? You have dishonored the king, you have dishonored me."
Darian sat on the king's bed, draped with a silk blanket. "Yes, I must have acted recklessly"
Nymira approached the bed and took a seat beside Darian. "Yes, you have. Your father is disappointed in you. If you go to him and explain that you weren't serious, he may be willing to forgive you."
Darian's eyes were fixed on his mother, who leaned forward slightly, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the plunging neckline. "I understand, mother," he replied.
Darian's hand glided along the smooth skin of Nymira's leg, lifting the fabric of her nightie. Every touch felt deliberate and meaningful, he lifted the hem of her nightie, savoring the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
"Don't, Darian," she gasped, her hands pushing against his chest, her breath catching in her throat. "I am your queen. Your mother."
Her resolve quickly melted away as Darian continued to explore every inch of her body, his touch sending electric shocks of pleasure through her. She couldn't help but moan his name, the sound a sweet melody on her lips. "Darian," she breathed. The nightie slipped further up her leg, revealing more of her porcelain skin. She gasped and moaned, her mind clouded with a heady mix of desire and guilt.
Finally, he looked up at her with a fierce intensity in his eyes. " Don't fight it. I know who you are," he said, his voice low and husky. "But I also know how I feel. I love you, mother." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
Suddenly, she protested, "No, that's enough." The mood shattered like a fragile glass. "You crossed the line, Darian"
But before she could say more, the chamber door burst open, and the king stormed in with Braga and a dozen knights in tow. "What's going on here?"
"I just came here to visit my brother and mother," Darian said, but it was clear that the king was not interested in hearing his side of the story.
"I told you he was here, king " Said Braga.
"Did you touch her?" Without warning, Inglud launched a brutal attack on Darian, striking him repeatedly in the face and head with his fists. Several of prince's teeth flew out, blood splattered on the floor, everything swam before his eyes.
"This is definitely a concussion," he thought.
Through the haze, he heard mother's voice, pleading with the king to stop. "No, Inglud," her voice trembling with emotion.
"Kill him, my king. Do it!" Lokir's squeaky and giggling voice reached his ears.
Eventually, Darian's body gave out and he fell unconscious. When he came to, he was in a dark, damp cell in the castle's dungeons. His head throbbed with pain and his jaw felt broken.
"I need some rest," he thought, slumping against the cold stone wall. But as he closed his eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling that his troubles were only just beginning.
CHAPTER 6. KINGSLAYER
Darian found himself confined in a small, damp dungeon with three cells lining one wall. He recognized the walls of the castle's dungeon, located several floors below his own chambers. Beyond the cells was a massive window overlooking the front yard, teeming with guards.
Time seemed to blur for Darian as he drifted in and out of consciousness, tormented by constant headaches. The only visitor he received during the captivity was the commandant, who arrived every evening with a meager portion of poorly cooked vegetables and scraps of meat.
One morning, he was rudely awakened by the sound of a commotion outside his cell.
"Wake up, prisoner," the commandant barked. "The king has arrived."
Darian lifted his head and saw a towering, white-haired man standing before him.
"You may leave, Frison," the king said with voice echoing in the damp dungeon. The commandant bowed and quickly exited, leaving Darian alone with the imposing figure of the king.
Inglud said nothing for a couple of minutes, his piercing gaze scanning the cell.
"Within a month, you will be sent to the North to extract gold in the cold mines with other prisoners. That's the life that awaits you from this point on. Be grateful that you're still breathing," the king said with a tone of finality.
"Fuck you."
Without warning, a huge hand seized Darian by the throat and lifted him up. His air supply was cut off, and he struggled to breathe as he dangled helplessly in the air.
"I could strangle you right here and now, but I don't know how I'll explain it to your brother," the king said, his grip tightening on Darian's throat. He released him, and Darian fell heavily onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor.
"I bet you enjoyed yourself," the king said after a pause, his words dripping with venom. "You had a chance to touch the queen. Don't be sad. At least now you'll have something to remember after a hard day in the mines. And while you rot there, I'll keep producing heirs with her. I'll impregnate her with the one while you're still in the castle. Think about it every second you're here."
Prince was silent. He crawled sluggishly into cells' corner.
"I can't believe you are one of the Serpent-Slayers," he king muttered before turning and exiting the cell, leaving the prince alone once more.
"You will believe," Darian thought to himself, despite the pounding pain in his head.
Struggling to keep his eyes open, he fought to piece together the events that just happened. "I have to remember everything. I have to remember my hatred," he urged himself, but his mind continued to slip away.
Suddenly, a figure loomed over him, and he recognized Narim's face.
"How long has it been?" Darian rubbed tired eyes and strained head to remember recent meeting with the King.
"You've been here for two weeks, my prince," Narim replied softly. "I am so sorry for everything that has happened to you."
"Yeah, me too." Despite the tumultuous circumstances, he couldn't deny that the one moment he had shared with the queen had made it all worthwhile.
"Prince. Do you hear me?" Narim clicked in front of his face.
"Yes, I can hear you. You don't have to click in front of my face. Have you come to say goodbye or what?"
"I'm sorry," Narim said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "Actually, I have come to offer you salvation." He discreetly retrieved a tiny key from his belt. "Escape tonight. Start a new life, hide, and forget everything that happened. Forget your past life."
Darian scoffed, his body aching from his time in the dungeon. "And what? Live like a rat? You're underestimating me again, my old friend. I thought you would know me better than all those king's ass-lickers. I thought you would know that I am a conqueror! I am Darian the Serpent-Slayer." He rose, resting his hand on the cold wall of the dungeon. "I won't live like a rat in oblivion, forgetting my past. Just give me the key and go..."Narim held out the key, and Darian hastily hid it beneath the prisoner's robes. "Thank you anyway, my friend," he said, his voice softer now.
"Farewell, Prince," Narim said, bowing before roughly leaving the cell.
As the prince looked at Narim with his swollen eye, he spoke softly, "Hey, Narim."
"Yes?" Narim responded before leaving.
"What day of the week is it?"
"It is the Day of Golden Sun. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," Darian smiled weakly, feeling the absence of a few teeth.
====
As the sun set, the night descended upon Galatley, and the full moon appeared in the sky. It was the Day of the Golden Sun, the final day of the week and an occasion for revelry and drunkenness throughout the land. The King Inglud always visit the queen in her chambers on this day, indulging in alcohol before performing his marital duties. Darian knew without a doubt that the king would try to take advantage of the queen tonight.
He promised to impregnate her while Darian is still in the castle. Than today is the day. He has to act now to not make it happen. With Narim's key in hand, Darian carefully opened the cell gates and stowed it back into his prisoner's robe.
"I can climb from here through the window and get to my room," Darian peered out into the night. He scanned the area below, taking note of the patrol that had just passed the garden. He knew that the window overlooked the outer courtyard, full of guards who could easily spot him if he wasn't careful. With a deep breath, Darian began to climb up the rough stone wall.
"Hey, what's that?!" a voice called out from below.
"Another patrol," Darian cursed to himself, silently urging his body to move faster.
"You're just drunk. There is nothing there."
With a surge of adrenaline, Darian propelled himself upwards, his fingers gripping tightly onto the rough brickwork. He was almost there when his foot slipped treacherously off the ledge. He quickly wrapped his arms around a protruding brick and pulled himself up, leaping through the half-open window into his own quarters.
"I tell you I saw something!" The voices became even clearer, the guards moved closer to the wall, but Darian paid them no mind. He extracted a brick from the wall, exposing his hidden cache. From within it, he retrieved a small, gleaming dagger and a dark cloak, its fabric expertly chosen to blend seamlessly into the castle walls.
"The castle hallways are too dangerous to use, so I have to take the more perilous route along the ramparts"
With the dagger between teeth, he scaled the wall and made his way over the old stones of the castle ramparts. The full moon had disappeared behind thick clouds, leaving only the dim light of a few torches to guide him. Patrols walked by, their footsteps echoing in the night, but Darian stayed hidden in the shadows, making his way ever closer to the queen's chambers.
He pulled himself up onto the parapet and peered cautiously through the open window. To his dismay, he heard the sound of raised voices and the heart-wrenching cry of a child from within. As he strained to listen, he heard the King's voice, impatient and commanding.
"I'm almost done, woman. Just be quiet!..Oh You are so good." The king wrapped his arms around the head of the bed and threw head back in euphoria.
"I'm too late," Darian realized with a sinking feeling.
"Inglud You can finish later!" Tartuff's infant cries pierced the air, growing louder and more frantic by the second.
"I told you... I'm almost... Ooooh" The king's entire body shook with animal pleasure. He let out a scream that resembled a battle cry. His body went suddenly limp and he collapsed onto her.
With a gentle touch, she stroked his back and arms. "Well done, my king," she murmured softly. "Now get off me."
At first it seemed that Inglud fell asleep. Some chomping sounds reached Darian's ears. He noticed how white semen was flowing from the edge of the queen's vagina and how it dripped onto the floor, spreading all over the sheet. Darian glanced at his mother when she already lowered her nightgown and hid her nude body behind it. She abruptly got up and went over to Tartuf. Darian saw a white liquid flow down her shins, and semen dripped between her legs onto the floor, leaving drops of sperm behind her as she walked.
"Seems like Inglud did not stint on sperm and flooded queen with everything that was in his old ugly balls," he thought.
While Nymira was busy with Tartuff and dripping cum, Inglud went to the window where Darian was, waving his huge flaccid cock in the air. Bear-like nude figure went straight to the open window.
"So good," Inglud let out a deep, rumbling chuckle as he gazed out over the city, completely oblivious to the imminent danger lurking beneath him.
Darian drew the dagger from between his teeth and in one swift motion, plunged it deep into the bear-like man's neck. The blade found its mark with sickening precision, piercing through the trachea and slicing through vital breathing apparatus. The king stood frozen, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Darian as his brain struggled to comprehend the chaos unfolding before him.
"I told you. You will believe," Darian hissed, yanking the king violently towards him by his beard. Inglud, propelled by the force of the attack, tumbled over the window frame and crashed into the garden bushes below.
He heard movements from the room and quickly ducked back into the shadows. Someone went to the window and he heard mother's urgent cry. "Inglud!" she shouted and sounds of her steps vanished in the room.
"I should hurry," He deftly began to go down soon finding himself right next to the very bush where the king had fallen. His eyes narrowed as he saw the old man's twisted form lying there, still breathing but barely alive. Darian didn't hesitate. He knelt beside the king and gently lifted him out of the bushes.
"How can you still be alive." The king's response was a silent glare. Inglud didn't puff, didn't scream, his face was a mess of scratches and bruises, limbs were twisted at odd angles. Darian could see the pain in his eyes, but he didn't let it sway him.
He drew his knife and stepped closer to the king. His hand was steady as he pressed the blade against the king's throat. The king's eyes widened, and for a moment, Darian thought he might try to fight back. But then the king's body went limp, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
The King is dead.
Footsteps approached, Darian scaled the stone wall, hauling himself over the edge and into the queen's room just as guards emerged below. He surveyed the empty chambers and headed for the exit through empty corridors, only encountering two oblivious guards. Arriving in his room, he stashed his dagger and cloak in a loose brick and made his way down the castle walls to the dungeon, relieved to avoid patrols.The adrenaline rush was palpable as he made his way down the ledges of the castle walls and returned to the castle dungeon, thanking the gods that no patrols were around this corner.
Upon returning, he found that everything remained unchanged. With ease, he approached his cell, swiftly entered, and securely locked the iron bars behind him.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he thought to himself, "Who would consider me a murderer if I spent all these days in prison...That's it... Now I can finally rest." With that, he settled down for a much-needed nap.
The night sky was awash with stars and Darian was caught in the throes of a fever dream, the last trace of a passing concussion. As his vision cleared, blurred figures began to take shape, and sounds into voices.
"You killed your king, Darian," he heard familliar soft woman voice. It echoed in his mind, louder than before, and suddenly the fog of his dream lifted. Darian found himself in mother's chambers, staring at Queen Nymira herself. Her hair was loose and tousled, cascading over her shoulders in waves, and she wore only a light robe that barely covered her figure and breasts.
Darian's heart raced as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "Mother...?" he stammered.
Nymira's expression was stern as she approached him, her voice low. "Why did you kill your own king?"
"I...I didn't...".
"You did it to be with me, didn't you?" Nymira's eyes bore into his, and she spoke again, her voice laced with an undercurrent of accusation.
He suddenly felt her gentle touch on his groin, her hand reaching precisely through the fabric to his shaft.
"O-h-h-h-h," he grunted feeling her touch.
"It's okay," she said softly, her eyes locked onto his. "Do you want to be with me? You want to be with your Queen? Do you want to fuck your own mother? Even though you know it's wrong?""
He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions.
"I know it's bad," he finally admitted, his voice low and raw. "But I want it...more than anything else."
"I understand," The corners of her mouth lifted into a knowing smile as she looked at him. "But we have to be careful."
He felt being close out of her touch. She moved to him, her lips parting as she spoke in a sultry voice, "Kiss me. Let's share a forbidden moment." With a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned in to kiss her. The queen's plump lips were soft and inviting, but in that moment, the dream disappeared, and everything went into oblivion.
CHAPTER 7. AFTERMATH
The sound of a voice penetrated Darian's slumber, pulling him back to the waking world. "Wake up, Prince," the voice commanded.
Darian slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He found himself locked behind bars, with Lokir standing before him in his customary black coat. Darian's overseer, stationed nearby, opened the gate.
"You are free," Lokir declared, extending a hand to help Darian to his feet. Darian rose from his cage, his body stiff and sore from the confinement.
"Come with me...and dress up," Lokir continued, offering Darian some clothes.
"Is this the order of the king?" he asked, pretending not to know what was happening.
"Did I say it's time for questions? Get dressed, lunatic," said Lokir, before leaving the cell and granting him some much-needed privacy. Thirty minutes later, they both descended the stone steps. The circular staircase was infused with the sweet fragrance of mint and basil, undercut by an unpleasant odor -- a putrid scent of illness. They had arrived at the healers' floor.
Lokir stepped forward and rapped on the wooden door. "I'm here with Prince Darian."
The next moment Gertrude, queen's servant, opened the door and the prince found himself in a small room with a stone table in its center. The pale and lifeless body of King was located on it. Meanwhile Narim, Braga and Nymira were around. His Mother was pale in face, dressed in black dress, hair loose.
"I'm glad you're still alive," the queen said briefly. The image from the dream reappeared before his eyes, and he turned away, staring at the cold dead body of the bearded king.
"What happened?" he asked his voice barely above a whisper. "Who did this?"
"I wish someone knew... Perhaps it's done by our very spy that we still unable to find." Hastly said Braga. "And look... The king is dead know. I just can't believe it"
"It was your job to guard him, baldhead!" snapped Lokir.
"He was with queen" Braga glanced at her and immediately regretted what he had said. ""My men saw an unknown man on the wall last night. I am sure the murderer has already fled, and it is the work of barbarians."
"There is no time for quarrels," Narim wheezed with his aged voice, his face wrinkled with concern. "The kingdom cannot afford to be without a ruler. We must decide who will now replace the king."
"Nómé will take his place," Nymira declared confidently.
"If he is still alive, Queen," Narim said, his voice carrying a note of caution.
"I am sure my son is alive. Send a pigeon with a letter." Nymira replied.
Lokir coughed, drawing Nymira's attention. "I must remind you of the rules, my lady," he said carefully. "If Nome does not reply to the letter within half a month, then..."
"Darian will be king." Nymira finished for him, cutting him off abruptly. "I know, Lokir. In the meantime, I want you and Narim to take over the governing functions of our king."
"Can't I do that?" Darian asked.
"As long as you're not king, boy, no," Lokir said firmly.
"The assassin may target you as well, Darian," Narim added gravely. "And you may suffer the same fate as our king." He lightly kicked the king's body with his stick, and Darian caught a whiff of persistent corpse odor. "You must take care of your own safety."
"I need to leave the castle," said the queen again, sighing, her breasts flirtatiously lifted. "It is too dangerous here now."
Braga, who had been standing quietly in the background, stepped forward. "I will protect you, my lady. I promise."
Nymira fixed him with a steely gaze. "Just as you protected my husband?"
Darian's mind raced as he contemplated the possibility of his mother leaving the castle. He couldn't allow it. Everything he had worked towards would be for naught if she left.
"You can't go," Darian retorted sharply, his eyes locked on his mother.
"And why is that? Tartuf and I would be safer elsewhere."
"Because that's exactly what they want. Leave the castle and you'll be attacked on the royal highway, ambushed by those who seek to harm us. The castle, despite what happened, is still the safest place for us."
The queen squinted as she looked at her son, pulling her head away as if she were seriously considering his warning.
"I think Darian is right, my lady," Narim interjected, stepping closer to the queen.
"As much as I hate to say it, I agree with the prince. I will ensure your safety within the castle walls." Braga nodded in agreement
"Then it is settled. You stay with me, mother," Darian declared firmly, his eyes flickering to Lokir, who had been silently listening to their conversation. "Now I better go," he muttered, eager to escape the smell of death that still lingered in the air.
As he began to walk away, Darian heard a voice behind him, taunting him. "Somehow he's not too upset by the king's death," the voice sneered, probably belonging to Braga.
"That's because he's about to become king, you dickhead," Lokir snapped, his voice filled with contempt. "If I were him, I would jump for joy." Darian ignored the jibe, feeling a heavy weight settle on his shoulders
===
The next day, Darian arrived at the royal baths in the early morning, preparing for funerals. The steam from the hot water filled the room as servants bustled about, preparing the Queen for her bath. Darian watched as Nimira changed behind a screen, and then tossed a large, soft towel around herself. As the servants worked to fix her unruly hair, Nymira caught sight of Darian's reflection in the mirror.
"Come to take a bath, Darian? Come back later, I'm here today," she said, with a wry smile.
Darian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, Queen. I just came to see how you are"
Nymira sighed. "I am utterly exhausted by everything that has been happening in the castle. I do not know who is a friend and who is an enemy, and my husband, our king, has been killed. And my eldest son is nowhere to be found."
Darian stepped closer to Nymira, and the servants instinctively stepped back. "You can trust me, Queen. I will protect you until Nome arrives."
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the steam from the baths enveloping them. Darian's gaze drifted down to his mother's collarbones, visible above the towel she had draped around herself He couldn't resist running his fingers over the soft, spotted skin, marveling at how delicate she seemed in that moment. His fingers tracing the contours of her collarbones as he worked his way down to her soft, spotted skin. Nymira closed her eyes, relishing the comforting touch of her son.
"We will get through this, Mother. I promise you," Darian said, his voice a low whisper. His hands slowly moved lower and lower, reaching down to the towel and dipping underneath it. He felt a thrill course through him as her nipples hardened beneath the towel, a sure sign that she was enjoying his touch, her neck slightly trembered, and wondered if it was from the cold or from something else entirely. The air between them felt electric, charged with unspoken desire.
"Yes... Darian," she moaned.
Darian hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You know, I still intend to do my father's last will."
"Last will?" Nymira stoped his touch and half turned around, her gray eyes wide with surprise with eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"To marry you," Darian whispered, making sure that the servants behind him couldn't hear. "And it's the only way I can protect you."
For a moment, Nymira didn't know what to say. Then she saw the determination in her son's eyes and realized what he was offering her. With a deep breath, she turned back to the mirror and ran a comb through her hair, attempting to maintain a sense of composure despite the sudden rush of emotions.
"I don't think I quite understand you," she said finally. "Or maybe I don't want to. You can't marry me, Darian. You're my son, and I'm your mother. Let's leave it at that. I cannot go against the laws of nature and society..."
Darian's face remained impassive. "We can keep it a secret. No one has to know. As for our relationship, it will remain unchanged. We will continue to love and care for each other as we always have. And as for the people...they don't need to know the details of our private lives. All they need to know is that their queen is safe and protected."
Nymira took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. "It's not just about keeping it a secret. I love you, Darian, but we cannot marry. It's just not possible. That's it. When Nome returns, everything is going to be as it was before... Now leave me. Right now I intend to have a bath if you haven't noticed."
As the words left her mouth, Nymira's heart ached with sadness. She had never imagined that her son would express such feelings for her, and the idea of marrying him...
Darian's couldn't hide his dissapointment, but he also comprehended her response. He bowed respectfully and turned to leave.
"Wait," Nymira called out softly. "I'm flattered by your proposal, Darian, truly. But you must understand that it's impossible. I appreciate your love for me, but you and I, we share a special bond as mother and son, but that's where it ends. We can't let our feelings get in the way of our duties to the kingdom and our people. Promise me you won't speak of this again."
Darian nodded, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I promise"
CHAPTER 8. COUNSELORS APPROVE
With his problems, Darian came to someone he had never expected to ask for advice: Lokir.
As he entered the man's cabinet, the overpowering smell of garlic and socks hit him like a wall. Despite the low ceiling, the room felt cluttered with various scrolls and books scattered haphazardly across the table, the floor, and even under the table. It gave an accurate impression of what kind of man Lokir was: disorganized, but incredibly knowledgeable.
Without a king he and Narim had a lot of stuff to do so Darian didn't want to bother counselor for too long. But as he was about to speak, a small balding man in black stepped out of the room, barely bowing to Darian.
"How may I help?" Lokir appeared from behind a towering stack of books, picking up some scrolls from the floor.
"I have a serious topic to discuss"
I'm all ears," Lokir said, throwing up his hands. Something in his voice cracked with mockery. "You may have a seat, if you wish."
Darian sat down on the uncomfortable little chair, trying to ignore the scattered papers that Lokir had carelessly thrown around them..Hard to believe this very man wrote a book about us and our kingdom," Darian thought bitterly, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him.
Silence hang up in the air, only the crackling sounds of woods in the hearth intermittently breaking it.
Darian spoke, his voice heavy with determination. "I intent to follow my king's last will and continue the Serpent-Slayer line... "
As he started to speak, Lokir's eyes barely registered his presence. The counselor seemed more interested in organizing his papers and books than in listening to Darian's concerns.
"With the queen," Darian ended.
Lokir paused and with a swing threw pillars of sheets and books over his table, causing the wine glass to flip over. Suddenly, he was interested.
"So with the queen. Hm," Lokir repeated emotionlessly, surprising Darian. For the first time, Lokir's thoughts were completely unreadable.
"Yes, and I need your help with that," said Darian.
Lokir sat down, picking up his glass from where it had fallen, and began digging the meat out of his teeth with a fish bone. "Interesting," he said cryptically.
"Interesting?" asked Darian, confused about Lokir's reaction.
"It's interesting because it's not the first time I've been asked for something like this, my prince," Lokir replied.
Darian raised an eyebrow.
"Actually, if you had read my book about your history, you would know that the Serpent-Slayers have a lot of experience in this regard," Lokir said.
"King Angus," interrupted Darian, impatiently.
"So you read it. I'm impressed, my prince," Lokir smiled and leaned back in his chair, continuing to use the fish bone.
"And what about the 'untrue rumors'?" continued Darian.
Lokir took the bone out of his mouth and smiled like he'd never smiled before. That was enough of an answer.
"Honestly speaking, many years ago, King Inglud actually intended to share a bed with his mother, Queen Lazerta, as well. He wanted to emulate Angus in everything, so he took that step," Lokir revealed, relishing in the shock on Darian's face.
Darian's eyes widened. Lokir's words hung in the air like a noxious fog, and Darian recoiled from the implications of what he had just heard. "Wait, you're saying that the king... with queen Lazerta?"
Lokir nodded and Darian leaned in, eager to hear more of this tale. "And... did he succeed?"
Lokir's smile was sinister, "Well. It's a long story but... Yeah. they shared a bed only once, and there was a child born from that union, but it's unclear whether it was his seed or not. Regardless, they never engaged in such behavior again."
"What happened to that child?"
Lokir shrugged, "Have no idea. It doesn't matter I suppose..." Lokir smiled again looking at him. "What does matter is that Inglud asked Nome to do the same before the campaign against the barbarians."
"Nome? He asked Nome to share a bed with the queen?" Darian repeated again, looking probably like a fool with open mouth and widened eyes.
"Indeed he did. Hehehehe" Lokir giggled. 'You should have seen the prince's face.""I can imagine," Darian said, his mind still reeling from the bombshell Lokir had just dropped.
"So Nome wasn't really into any of that stuff. He declined and left for war," Lokir took another sip of his wine, some of it spilling onto the table. He set the bone aside and leaned in, his gaze fixed on Darian. "But. It seems you are much more worthy of the title 'Serpent-Slayer' than I originally thought. My apologies for underestimating you, my prince."
Darian leaned back in his chair, still trying to process what he had just heard. Nome had never mentioned anything about sharing a bed with Nymira. But then again, would he?
Lokir interrupted Darian's thoughts, "So, Darian Serpent-Slayer. Are you planning to do what you intend to do? Do you intend to share a bed with your queen?"
Darian met Lokir's gaze, his voice steady, "Yes, I do."
"Then it's settled. I'll help you. I've had a plan in place for a long time, just waiting for the right prince to come along. I'll talk to the queen. And you, do me a favor. Talk to Narim. That old..." He wiped his mouth of wine. "The old scoundrel might try to interfere and ruin everything. The king promised to take care of him, but..."
"I'll talk to him. You can be sure he won't mind."
As Lokir spoke, Darian couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. He had found an ally in Lokir. Who could have thought?
"I'll give you a sign when it's time to talk business with the queen," he giggled. "For now, if you'll excuse me, I need to deal with my business right here on my table."
Darian nodded, got up from his chair, and disappeared out the door.
It was amazing how everything he'd heard had turned his picture upside down. So Inglud had coveted his mother, too, and even slept with her, and then, many years later, offered to do the same to Nome? I wonder if Nymira knew about this. I guess it doesn't matter now.
If Lokir has promised to sort it out, let's hope he will succeed. He hadn't at all expected that the meeting with the counselor would turn out so favorably and successfully for his plans.
After a few minutes Darian appeared before Narim's doors and entered. The old man sat by the hearth, reading a letter from a large pile on his table. Unlike the sparse chambers of Lokir, Narim's study was filled with papers, books, and scrolls carefully arranged in cabinets and bookshelves that lined the room. The table lacked any signs of food, but the room was filled with a pleasant aroma of herbal ointment.
"Ah, my prince," Narim said, looking at the newcomer through his spectacles.
"No need for formalities," Darian closed the door firmly behind him, making sure no one was following him, and adjusted his doublet. "I've come to discuss business."
Narim carefully wrapped up the letter he was reading, but didn't put it on the table. Instead, he looked Darian over with his colorless eyes.
"Before we begin...I received a letter," the old man began in his slow, aged voice, exhaling deeply.
"A letter?" Darian asked, surprised. He came closer and felt the warmth of the fireplace on his face. He already knew the answer to his question, but was afraid to admit it. "From Nome?" Darian barely managed to utter the name, and Narim's slow nod dispelled all doubts.
The old man unfolded the letter and read it from beginning to end.
"I deeply mourn the death of our king and am aware of my right to the throne. However, at the moment, I cannot inform you of any good news. I have been severely injured on the battlefield, and our enemies have almost breached one of the last lines of defense. I will return as soon as I am able. Protect the queen. Nome."
The advisor slowly rolled up the worn letter and placed it on the table as if it were a precious artifact.
"It can't be..." Darian muttered in disbelief.
Narim answered with a resigned sigh, removing glasses from his eyes and spreading his hands to the side. "Well, apparently it can," he said. "Nome has confirmed his right to the throne with this letter, and he is now the future King of Incuria."
Darian's heart sank at the news.
No one must stop me from getting the queen. Not even my brother.
"Does anyone else know about this but us?" he asked.
"No one. Only us," Narim replied, folding his hands in his lap.
The two men were silent for a while, each lost in thought. Finally, the old man wanted to speak, but Darian interrupted him.
"He won't be back anytime soon," Darian said. "There is no telling when Nome will return or what will happen to the kingdom by then. Can we leave Incuria without a king for that long?"
"What else can we do? Circumstances are stronger than we are. We will have to wait for Nome to return and make sure that the kingdom will not fall by then." Narim concluded.
Darian sank down into the comfortable, cushioned high chair across from the advisor. "My friend Narim, for many years you have bailed me out. I have always known I could rely on you for something. And now I have a final favor to ask of you... Destroy this letter."
Narim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Destroy it?" he repeated softly. "You are asking me to commit treason. The punishment is death."
Darian leaned forward. "No punishment if I am king," he said firmly.
Narim was silent for a while, his thoughts racing. Finally, he slowly rose from his chair with the letter in his hands. "To go against the crown... But do I go against it?" he muttered to himself. "Nome is wounded, and it is unknown if he will return at all. We need a king now, not in the uncertain future."
He turned slowly toward Darian. "I do this for the sake of the kingdom...my friend," he said. His hand with the letter slid down, and the letter seemed to fall out of his old fingers. The yellowed paper sank straight into the mouth of the hearth roaster, where tongues of flame quickly destroyed all its contents.