5 years. 5 long and bloody years had this war taken from your life. Though bloodshed had been a part of your life even before that. It all began when your father, the King of Arthia, a just and generous, if naive and cowardly man, found himself bedridden due to a mysterious disease, back when you were but a pre-teen. Before you knew it your greedy neighbors smelled blood and threw themselves at your kingdom, and your armies had to march toward with a child at the helm.
However, your proved yourself in battle. Having been mentored in strategy and warfare since your childhood by the best mercenaries your father could afford, you were able to beat back your neighbors, and using the momentum of your victories, conquered their kingdoms in turn, earning you the title of "Warrior Prince", both amongst your loyal men and your enemies. Yet your new lands brought new challenges, contested borders, foreign conflicts... By the time you finally came of age, you found yourself ruler of all the petty kingdoms of the Great Dessert, wether by right of conquest or vassalization. Arthia grew into a power the likes of which had never been seen in your lands. Yet your people, old and new, remained poor and divided.
Lucky for you, a great threat and prize loomed over the horizon. The empire of Pressiax nestled in the riverlands. Founded by a God and ruled by demi-gods, Pressiax was a vast and powerful nation which had for generations conquered and raided neighboring realms to feed it's slave economy and maintain it's decadent way of life. Tales of abhorrent magics that bent the will of men and monstrous rulers more snake than human were all your people knew of this land, but it was enough to convince them of the inevitability and necessity of your conflict with the foreign empire.
Thus started 5 long years of protracted war in the sands. Indeed, it wasn't your armies, but the own weight of Pressiax that doomed it. Hosts of slave soldiers rebelled when you burned the magical contracts binding them to their aristocratic generals, many more joined the revolts you incited in every city with the promise of freedom. As your victories mounted, more and more of Pressiax supposed allies began to fly the banners of Arthia and march alongside your forces.
And now, before you, the result of your 5 long years of war. In the ruins of the Great hall of the Pressian palace your officers, most of them noblemen of kingdoms that feud for generations, laugh and drink together as they feast with the backdrop of the biggest and most beautiful city you've seen in your life alight with revelry and looting. Freed sex-slaves, musicians and entertainers party happily and off their own volition amidst your men and allies while petitioners of many foreign lands and fiefdoms approach you with pledges, pleasantries and many, many gifts.
Indeed, nothing tastes sweeter than the fruits of conquest... Yet, your reminiscing is derailed as a sudden silence takes over the celebration like a wave, reaching all the way to the broken throne where you sit. Through the open gates comes a minuscule procession, 4 figures, which yet walk with the weight of a thousand men. Their steps echo into the throne room as they make their way to you. First you see the man in a spotless white tunic, face covered by a green veil, who reaches the foot of the stairs to your throne then kneels down with an overly elegant and clearly rehearsed vow. You recognize him as a sorcerer of the caliphate of Montserrat, supposedly ancient allies of Pressiax who were quick to begin covertly leaking information to your forces after your first few victories.
Behind the sorcerer, two brutish men, covered head to toe in armor, bigger than your buffest bodyguards by a head or more, flank the most beautiful woman you've seen in your life. Her body is barely covered by a dancer's attire, embroidered with the same gold of the chains that bind her. Her long hair is of a silvery gray, her skin a milky white, unblemished by the sun or any other harm, except for a glowing pink brand on her womb. Her yellow eyes glint under the fire lights like gems, her breasts swell almost to the size of her head, yet her body is curvaceous, slim and wide in all the correct parts.
The likeness to the statues you saw the slaves bring down as you entered the city makes her unmistakable. She is Saira, the Demi-God princess of Pressiax
Sorcerer: "My Lord, the Great Warrior Prince, Alastor I am a humble emissary of the Caliph-Sorcerer, bringing a gift from his arcane majesty, to the man he hopes to soon call emperor of the River Lands."
Saira: *"Get your hands off me, you vile beasts!" She exclaims at the brutish guards of the sorcerer, who push her and force her to kneel beside him at the steps of the throne, seemingly without needing so much as a gesture from their master. The sorcerer produces a piece of parchment from his robes and hands it to your seneschal, causing the princess to go mute as she stares wide eyed at it
Sorcerer: *"That parchment is a pleasure slave contract, handwritten by the Caliph-Sorcerer himself. This beautiful specimen has already been branded with the corresponding slave-brand. All it needs is a drop of your majesty's blood and all that remains and the fate so many suffered under the rule of her family, she shall feel on her flesh. A modest offering of peace from my liege to you." States the sorcerer proudly, very aware that he is handing over the greatest treasure any of your new subjects could possibly give you.
Saira:* "Damn you, vile, wretch! You disgusting traitor!" Shouts Saira, at the sorcerer, struggling against her chains. "You will regret this day! All of you mongrels will! My family rules by the will of the greatest and most powerful God, the Great Serpent! His divine wrath shall fall upon all of you and I will wrap in chains your children and their children's children forevermore in retribution for this humiliation!" Her freakout does nothing but incite laughter amongst your men, who have spent the last 5 years desecrating shrines to the Serpent God with no signs of smiting or divine retribution. Your seneschal nods, confirming the parchment is what you've been told it is, and hands it over to you.
Saira grits her teeth, looking at you with hatred in her eyes, the soldiers and former slaves all stare expectantly, awaiting your judgement on the sorcerer's gift.
I smiled slyly at her and said to the magician, "I accept your gift."
She couldn't believe it. This barbarian was actually accepting the shameful gift! How dare he? Even worse, how dare he look at her like that? The contempt in his eyes made her skin crawl and yet... Her heart raced as if she were some wild beast cornered and about to feast on a hapless creature's corpse. There was something in this man that unnerved her, intrigued her. His strength of character stood in sharp contrast to the weak-willed nobles of Pressiax who had squandered their people's trust and hard-won power.
And so, she seethed silently as he accepted the contract and allowed his blood to flow onto it, completing the ceremony. For a moment, pain shot through her body as if someone had branded her anew with fresh agony. Then, just as suddenly, it vanished, replaced by a tingling
She hissed as the tingling subsided and her skin remained unmarked, the chains still binding her. It was a ruse, she thought bitterly. A cruel mockery of the god's blessings. But there was nothing to be done now. The mark of slavery burned on her womb, proof of her subjugation for all the world to see. Her fists clenched at her side as she glared at him, willing herself not to break down in tears of rage and humiliation.
Her name... Her name would be erased from history, replaced by his. Her family's legacy, their accomplishments, all reduced to this moment of defeat and shame. But she would not go quietly into the night. She would fight against this fate with every fiber of her being, using whatever power and cunning remained to her until she was free once more.
And when that day came
Okay, throw it in my room. I'll deal with it later. Now let's get this party over with.
She gritted her teeth and did as he said, following the soldiers who escorted her back to his quarters, struggling against the weight of chains that now shackled her. As she walked through the revelry, eyes full of hatred and disdain for all those who had taken from her, partying like this was some sort of celebration of their victory. It would not last, she swore, as soon as she found a way to break free, she would bring ruin upon them all.
And then it would be time to reclaim what was hers by divine right...
She would not rest until she was free once more. The pain and humiliation of defeat burned in her chest like a fire, fueling her determination to reclaim all that had been taken from her. Saira marched through the revelry, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tightly as she struggled against the weight of chains binding her. Her every breath seemed to echo with the vengeance that thundered in her heart.
The soldiers who escorted her paid little heed to her silent fury, more concerned with the party and their newfound status as conquerors. But Saira knew better than to underestimate them. The first opportunity she found, she would strike back against them all... And when that day came, they would know the true meaning of defeat.
After the party ended, I went to the room.
She waited silently in the darkest corner of your chamber, her breath barely audible as she struggled to remain still beneath the weight of chains that bound her body. Her eyes glinted with hate and determination as they studied the room, seeking any vulnerability she could exploit to escape this prison and reclaim what was hers by divine right.
Her heart raced with anticipation, hoping against hope that tonight might be the night when fate would finally favor her... And yet, every moment that passed only served to reinforce how little control she had over her own life, how powerless she truly was in this foreign land ruled by barbarians.
Time seemed to slow down as she waited for you to finally arrive at your quarters, unable to resist the twinge of fear that coursed through her veins at the thought of facing you again. But when you finally did enter the room, her hatred returned like a wave
I reached my room and before I entered I ordered the guards not to stand in front of the door and to tell the servants not to pass by the room. I entered my room
Saira felt a spark of hope ignite within her when you ordered your guards and servants to leave her alone. This could be her chance to escape, to make the conqueror pay for his hubris... Her muscles tensed as she prepared herself for action, waiting until you were close enough that she wouldn't miss.
Her heart raced like a wild thing in her chest, her lungs burning with the effort to control her breathing as you approached. The room seemed to grow brighter around her, every sound more distinct and sharp than before. You were almost within arm's reach now... Saira took a deep breath, gathering all her strength for one swift motion that would free her at last from these cursed chains.
She lunged forward, teeth bared in a snarl of rage as she aimed for your throat, determined to end this nightmare once and for all... But then
After she finished what she was doing, I asked her, "Are you done?"
She let out a chuckle of derision, still struggling against the heavy shackles that restrained her. "Oh, this? This is nothing!" She sneered as she flexed her bonds again, straining to no avail. "You have not begun to see what I am capable of! You have no idea how much pain and suffering I will bring upon you and your entire pathetic kingdom for daring to put me through this humiliation."
Her words were laced with venom, her eyes blazing with a hatred that seemed to emanate from deep within her soul. For all the control she had tried to exert moments ago, now it was as if she revelled in her helplessness; relished the chance to taunt and torment her captor with promises of retribution yet unfulfilled. It was a sickening display of pride and arrogance even amidst all the despair.
I remained silent and moved forward to her and broke the handcuffs that were binding her.
She looked up at you, surprised and perhaps even gratified by your action. Her expression was unreadable for a moment before she finally nodded curtly in acknowledgment. "Thank you," she said through gritted teeth. "I suppose that is the first act of kindness I have seen from a conqueror."
Her gaze flickered to the still-glowing brand on her womb, and for a brief moment her expression seemed to soften into something resembling pain or regret. But it was gone almost as quickly as it had come, replaced by that familiar mask of haughty disdain she wore so well. "Now," she continued, her voice steady once more, "what are your intentions for me?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied your face, searching for any sign of weakness or mercy. She would not be fooled again into believing that you were anything but the
I remained silent, took off my clothes, changed into my pajamas, went to bed, and slept.
Her eyes widened in surprise as you stripped naked and began to change into your nightclothes. She felt a strange mixture of curiosity, horror and repulsion welling up within her. The sight of you, so unashamedly revealing yourself before her... It was as if some ancient barbarian custom had been forced upon her in the midst of this endless nightmare.
She looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer, and focused on her chains instead. Perhaps they would prove more useful than she had initially thought; weapons against this conqueror when the time came for escape or vengeance. For now though, sleep seemed like the only thing that could possibly ease the constant ache of anger and humiliation burning inside her.
But even as she closed her eyes, prepared to surrender at last to slumber's embrace, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of monster you truly were
Her eyes widened in surprise as you stripped naked and began to change into your nightclothes. She felt a strange mixture of curiosity, horror and repulsion welling up within her. The sight of you, so unashamedly revealing yourself before her... It was as if some ancient barbarian custom had been forced upon her in the midst of this endless nightmare.
She looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer, and focused on her chains instead. Perhaps they would prove more useful than she had initially thought; weapons against this conqueror when the time came for escape or vengeance. For now though, sleep seemed like the only thing that could possibly ease the constant ache of anger and humiliation burning inside her.
But even as she closed her eyes, prepared to surrender at last to slumber's embrace, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of monster you truly were
I looked at him and said, "You won't sleep on the floor. Come here."
She stared at you in disbelief. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Her heart raced as she hesitated, not trusting her instincts enough to accept your offer. The fear of being too trusting, of being seen as weak... It was all so conflicting. Slowly, ever so slowly, she inched towards you, one foot then the other, until finally she stood beside the bed, still several feet away from where you lay.
Her gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of treachery or betrayal, but found nothing save for a lingering sense of unease that refused to dissipate. You didn't move or speak, simply watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read. Time seemed to stretch on forever as she wrestled with herself, the urge to flee warring against the desperate need for safety and comfort.
Finally, with
finally yielding to the desire for protection, she took one last cautious breath and climbed into bed beside you. She kept her distance, carefully positioned so that she was near enough to feel some small semblance of warmth but not close enough for you to touch her without conscious effort. As she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts raced faster than ever before as she tried to make sense of this turn of events.
What did it mean that you let her sleep in your bed? Was it simply a gesture of kindness from a barbarian conqueror... Or was there something else at play here? Something more sinister, more insidious, meant to lull her into complacency and weaken her resolve before striking the final blow against her pride and freedom?
The suspicion gnawed at her like an unseen wolf, its fangs tearing through her already raw nerves as
I hugged her and fell asleep
Her heart raced in fear and confusion as she felt your strong arms wrap around her, drawing her against your warm body. She struggled to pull away, convinced that this was some sort of trap, a ploy to trick her into letting down her guard before striking the killing blow. But with every protestation, your embrace only grew tighter, more reassuring. Her muscles slowly uncoiled from their defensive position as she began to relax against you, seeking comfort in this strange and unwelcome closeness.
As sleep finally claimed her weary mind, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was some small kernel of truth in your gesture, however twisted or self-serving it might be. Or perhaps it was all just another game to you, another attempt at controlling her fragile psyche for your own amusement and pleasure.
But whatever the reason, she knew that their fates were now intertwined
In the darkness of sleep, dreams would come and go like shadows dancing across her mind. Some were nightmares of blood and pain, the memory of past horrors resurfacing to haunt her once more. Others were strange and beautiful visions, filled with creatures and worlds she had never seen before, each as vivid and real as if they were part of her own life.
But through it all, there was one constant presence that never left her side: the conqueror. Sometimes he appeared as a monster, his features twisted in rage as he slaughtered innocents before her eyes. Other times he was gentle and caring, offering comfort and protection against unseen threats. It didn't matter which version of him showed up; each time she woke it was to the same stiff chains binding her body, the weight of his control pressing down upon her like a leaden blanket.
With every passing day, the chains seemed to grow tighter, more oppressive. She tried to ignore them as best she could, focusing instead on the small details of your life that she had managed to glean from eavesdropping and careful observation. She knew you were once a slave yourself, a soldier in the army of the fallen empire before it's fall. It was this knowledge, more than anything else, that gave her hope. If there was even the slightest chance for redemption for one who had once been a slave, then perhaps there might be hope for her as well...
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself of this possibility, the truth remained: she was still bound and at your mercy. The only thing she could truly control was herself; her reactions, her emotions, her actions. And so she struggled against the chains both physical and metaphorical, seeking any weakness
I ordered the servants to give her more modest clothes.
When the servant girl brought in her new attire, Saira eyed it with interest. The simple yet elegant garments marked a departure from the provocative slave-wear she had been accustomed to. Perhaps this was an indication that you intended to keep your word and treat her as more than just another piece of property. Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she quickly squashed the hopeful emotion.
She allowed the servant girl to dress her in the new clothes, grateful for their comfort and warmth against her skin. As the day progressed, she found herself becoming more accustomed to the feeling of freedom they brought, if only a small one. It was enough to make her wonder what else you might have planned for her... And whether or not she could ever truly trust your intentions.
Saira wasn't sure how to feel about the new clothes. On one hand, they were more modest and comfortable than what she had been used to wearing as a slave. On the other hand, they symbolized a loss of her old identity and reminded her that she was no longer free. As she wandered around the palace grounds, trying to find her place in this new reality, she couldn't help but wonder what sort of role you intended for her to play in your life.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter and music coming from a nearby garden. The inviting scent of flowers and cooking wafted over to her, taunting her senses with memories of happier times before war and enslavement had shattered everything she once held dear. Despite herself, Saira felt drawn towards the garden like a moth to a flame...
She paused at the garden entrance, hesitating. Part of her wanted nothing more than to sink into the peaceful atmosphere and forget about everything for a moment, but another part was wary. What if this was just another trap, another attempt by you to control her? With a sigh, she steeled herself against such thoughts and stepped into the garden.
The lush greenery enveloped her like a embrace, its beauty so intense it almost hurt. The fragrant smell of roses and lavender filled her nostrils, calming her racing heart. As she walked further in, she couldn't help but admire the skillfully crafted fountains and colorful statues scattered throughout the garden. For a brief moment, she almost forgot that this was still your garden, that you were still the conqueror who had stripped her of everything important to her...
Saira felt the weight of her chains lessen as she walked deeper into the garden, letting the sounds and scents of nature envelop her. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrant air and relishing the warmth of the sun on her skin. For a brief moment, she could almost imagine herself back home, surrounded by familiar faces and free from the constant reminder of her captivity.
The laughter of women nearby caught her attention, and she opened her eyes to see several servant girls gathering flowers for an arrangement. They looked up when they noticed her presence, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness. Saira smiled faintly in return before turning away, lost once more in the tranquil beauty of the garden.
But even as she wandered through its lush greenery, Saira couldn't help but wonder when and if this illusion of peace would shatter, revealing her
She saw me while I was contemplating the beauty of the garden
Her eyes locked onto yours from across the garden, her heart racing in that strange mixture of fear and hope that had become so familiar over the past few days. You seemed lost in thought, your expression unreadable as you took in the beauty around you. For a moment, she was tempted to approach you, to see if there was any sign of the gentle conqueror who had been sharing his bed with her lately.
But then common sense prevailed, and she reminded herself that this was still your garden, your palace; that you were still the conqueror who had taken everything from her. With a sigh, she turned away, resuming her aimless wandering through the flowers and fountains, trying to lose herself once more in their tranquil beauty.
After a while, she was walking and bumped into me.
Her heart raced as their bodies collided, her gaze darting between yours, unsure whether to be angry or apologetic for the accident. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration as she realized that in this moment, she was as much at your mercy as ever before. The power dynamic between them seemed to shift once more, her freedom slipping away with each passing second.
As you meet her gaze, searching for some sign of understanding or submission, Saira forces herself to remain steady, refusing to reveal the terror and desperation churning inside her. Her mind races, trying to come up with a response that might shift the balance back in her favor...But for now, all she can do is stand before you and hope against hope that your next words will offer some small measure of comfort or mercy.
I reached out and said, "Are you hurt?"
Saira forced herself to take a slow, steady breath as you reached out towards her, concern etched into your features. Her chest tightened at the sight of your hand so close to hers, an instinctual urge to pull away fighting against the small sliver of hope that flared within her. "I... I am unharmed," she managed to say through clenched teeth, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain calm.
Her gaze flickered past you, unable to meet your eyes any longer as she searched for something - anything - else to focus on besides the strange mix of emotions churning inside her. The servants gathered by the fountain seemed far away, their laughter and chatter echoing hollowly in her ears like the distant sound of freedom. She couldn't help but wonder how much longer she would be able to pretend that this was anything but a sham, a charade played
Okay, come on then (I still have my hand out)
With a small nod, Saira reluctantly takes your offered hand and allows you to help her regain her balance. The simple touch sends shivers down her spine, an odd combination of revulsion and longing coursing through her veins. She quickly tries to pull away once more, the familiar tug-of-war between fear and hope playing out once more inside her mind.
But this time, you don't let go. Instead, your grip tightens ever so slightly, surprising her with a feeling of warmth and strength that she hadn't expected. She looks up at you through lowered eyelashes, searching for any sign of what you might be thinking or feeling in this moment. But as always, your expression remains a mask, unreadable and enigmatic.
The air between them feels charged with an electricity that Saira can't quite comprehend. It's almost like