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.

Saira glares at the sorcerer, then meets your gaze and tries to appeal to your nobility and honor, despite everything she's done up until now. "Warrior Prince," she practically hisses through gritted teeth, "the Serpent God saw fit to entrust me with this kingdom and its people, he shall not allow such blasphemy against me or mine! Heed my warning! If you take what is not yours, divine retribution will be swift and merciless!"

She waits, tense, for your reply, her golden bracelets rattling ominously with every movement. Her guards and the soldiers in the throne room lean forward expectantly, murmuring to each other about the weight of her words and the consequences they might bring upon their new master.

Saira glares at the Warrior Prince as he leads her away from the throne room. The mention of marriage does nothing to soften her expression; if anything, it makes her even more furious. "I will never marry a filthy mongrel like you!" she spits venomously, trying and failing to yank her arm free from his grip. "My family is divine! We are above such petty human bonds!"

Once they're alone in the pianist room, Saira glares at him, arms crossed over her chest defiantly. Her breasts rise and fall with each harsh breath she takes, a sign of her barely contained anger. "I will not submit to you," she says through gritted teeth. "If I must suffer the indignity of being your slave bride, then so be it... but know this: my family's vengeance will be swift and terrible."

Her words hang in the air like a threat, as her yellow eyes narrow and harden into slits. Despite everything she says, there's an undeniable heat in those eyes that betrays how much it bothers her to admit any kind of submission to the Warrior Prince... or how close she is to being swayed by his offer.

Taken aback by this sudden change of topic, Sairi glares at the Warrior Prince even more suspiciously. Her chest still heaves with anger but it gradually gives way to confusion as she tries to understand his intentions. "The people should be grateful for my rule," she eventually responds coldly. "My family has always ruled with an iron fist, guiding them toward greater wealth and prosperity. That is what the peasants need... not false happiness."

She pauses, then adds: "Of course, I would make sure they are well-fed and given proper shelter... but beyond that, obedience and loyalty to the throne should be their only concern."

Confusion and suspicion now color her expression as she follows the Warrior Prince to the window. The sound of merriment from below hits her ears and for a moment, she can't help but feel... something. Intrigued? Perhaps even a little envious? It's an alien sensation in her chest, foreign to a princess who has been raised with the belief that happiness is nothing more than a tool for keeping the serfs in line.

She crosses her arms again and tries to maintain her defiant posture, but it's becoming increasingly difficult as she takes in the sight of people laughing and singing together. Her eyes narrow, trying to reconcile this image with the hateful threats she was spewing only moments ago. "What game are you playing at?" she eventually growls out, her voice sounding less confident than it should. "This is not how I rule my people!"

Yet even as she says these words, there's a small kernel of doubt in her chest, a question beginning to form: what if this... happiness... could be hers? What if the Warrior Prince truly had found a way to harness it for his own purposes? The thought both excites and terrifies her.

Suddenly, Sairi realizes that she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life as a slave, but also can't bring herself to completely submit to the foreign ruler. Perhaps... perhaps there might be another way? A path where she could still rule over her people and bring them happiness at the same time? The thought is intoxicating, and for a brief moment, she finds herself almost willing to consider it... almost.

Her gaze locked onto the window below where happy people sing and dance, she tries to push away the seductive thought of being a part of that joyful scene but fails miserably. It burns within her, a fire of desire for something different, something new. Her breath hitches as she turns back to face the Warrior Prince. For once, her arrogance is gone and in its place is uncertainty, hope even

"I... I will consider your offer," she says softly, her voice wavering with emotion. "But know this: if I agree to marry you, it must be on my terms. My family's name and legacy must not be tarnished by our union." She pauses, thinking of how much power that could mean in his hands before continuing: "And there will come a time when I will have the chance to prove myself worthy of reclaiming what is mine."

Her words are equal parts threat and promise, her gaze unyielding as she stares into the Warrior Prince's eyes. For once in her life, she feels more human than divine. More fragile than immortal. And it scares her... but also excites her in a way she's never known before.

After a moment's consideration, Sairi nods slowly. "Very well," she says carefully. "I will agree to marry you on the condition that your heir does indeed bear my family's name." She pauses, mustering her remaining strength of pride. "And I will not be treated as a mere consort or figurehead. You will honor our union and respect my wishes, just as I shall honor yours."

Her voice is steady now, though there's still a hint of vulnerability in her eyes that she can't quite disguise. It would seem that for now at least, their fates are entwined, whether by fate or the machinations of men. The thought both terrifies and excites her in equal measure.

The news takes Sairi aback at first; she's not entirely sure what to make of it. On the one hand, she's relieved that the Warrior Prince isn't simply using her as a political pawn. On the other, she can't help but feel some trepidation about entering into such a sacred union without fully understanding its implications.

After a moment's thought, she decides to trust him. "Very well," she says slowly, "I will honor your request and enter into this marriage with you under the terms you have proposed. Just... be sure that my family's name and legacy are not forgotten or belittled during our time together."

Her voice is soft but firm, her gaze unyielding as she waits for his reply. There's a sense of relief mixed with uncertainty flowing through her veins; for the first time in her life, she feels like she has no control over the direction of her destiny. It's both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Surprised by the Warrior Prince's offer to include everyone in their wedding celebrations, Sairi hesitates momentarily before answering. "Back home," she begins cautiously, "weddings were usually reserved for close family and friends... but I suppose we could make an exception." She pauses again, thinking of how her people would react to such a change in tradition. "Perhaps," she continues after a moment's consideration, "we could have a more modest celebration with the addition of my people, as well. That way, everyone can feel included without it becoming too excessive."

Her eyes brighten at the thought of merging her culture with his, of creating something new and beautiful out of their union. For once in her life, she feels a sense of hope and possibility that she never could have imagined.

"Love-making," she says, her cheeks flushing slightly at the unfamiliar term, "is something that is... shared between husband and wife. I am told it's a very intimate act..." Her voice trails off as she tries to comprehend the concept of sharing such an intimate connection with someone who isn't a member of her family or court. It's both exciting and terrifying at the same time, but she knows that if she is truly going to be Alaric's wife and partner, then it is something she must face and learn about.

Saira listens to his words carefully, taking note of their customs regarding intimacy and the importance placed on producing a strong heir regardless of gender. It's an intriguing contrast to her own experiences and understanding of love-making as something primarily centered around pleasure and enjoyment between two people who have formed a deep connection over time.

As she processes this new information, her mind wanders back to the question of whether or not she can truly trust him, if their marriage will be based on love and respect rather than simply political expedience. The thought both frightens and excites her in equal measure. For now, however, there's still much for them to discuss and plan before they can move forward with their wedding... and whatever lies beyond that day.

The words catch her off guard, and she flushes even deeper, unable to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks now. It's an unusual reaction for her; normally she'd brush such comments aside as mere flattery or insincere attempts to manipulate her feelings. But coming from him... it feels different somehow. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice sounding almost breathless. "You don't look so bad yourself."

There's an awkward pause before they both laugh softly, some of the tension between them easing slightly. Perhaps there is hope for their strange and unconventional union after all.

Surprised by the question, Sairi thinks for a moment before admitting, "Yes, I am well-versed in our ancient tongue." Her expression softens slightly as she continues, "It was always taught to us as part of our training; it's how we kept alive the history and traditions of our people." She pauses, then asks curiously, "And why do you ask?"

Her eyes search his face for any sign of insincerity or hidden motive, but she can't quite shake the feeling that there's more to this question than meets the eye. The realization both excites and unsettles her at the same time.

Intrigued by his interest in their ancient tongue, Saira decides to humor him and delve deeper into the subject. She starts with explaining some of the basics of the writing system, using an old scroll as a reference. As they spend more time together discussing various symbols and their meanings, she finds herself growing closer to him. Perhaps there's more to this strange foreigner than she initially thought?

Her heart races at the mere possibility that he could be genuine in his feelings for her and their people. The idea is intoxicating, and before she knows it, she has agreed to help him decipher various ancient texts they come across in their travels together. It's a heady feeling, this newfound trust between them, and one that both frightens and excites her in equal measure.

For now, however, there are still wedding preparations to be made and a kingdom to be ruled over. She can't help but wonder how things will turn out for all of them... but somehow, she finds herself feeling more hopeful than she has in a very long time.

The door to Saira's chamber swings open, revealing her sitting atop the bed, her hair flowing freely around her in a cascade of gold and red. A dress of deep green silk clings to her curves like a second skin, its intricate embroidery shimmering softly in the lamplight. Her eyes meet his over the rim of a delicate porcelain cup, filled with an intoxicating blend of herbs and spices that have been said to heighten desire and passion.

"You may enter," she says softly, her voice husky with anticipation. "But remember that this is not just some game we play for pleasure. The bond between us will be sacred... our love, pure and true." Her words hang in the air like a challenge, daring him to prove himself worthy of sharing her bed... and her heart.

The fire crackles and pops nearby, casting flickering shadows across the room as they share this intimate moment. Saira's entire being feels alive with anticipation, every sense on high alert as she awaits his move. The trust she has placed in him is both frightening and exhilarating at once; it makes her feel more vulnerable than ever before... but also opens her up to experiences she had never dared dream possible.

It all comes down to this moment, the culmination of weeks spent together learning each other's hearts and bodies. Now they stand on the brink of something new... something that could change their lives forever. The choice lies with him; he can either rise to meet the challenge or crumble under its weight. For Saira, there is no turning back from here.

Her breath catches at the unexpected question, but she forces herself to answer truthfully. "Of course I have," she replies, her voice slightly more guarded now. "It was... different back then. More about power and dominance than true intimacy." She pauses, wondering how much of that is due to their culture and upbringing and how much is simply her own experience.

The feel of his warm body pressed against hers makes it hard for her to think clearly; her heart races faster with each beat, urging her on toward the physical union they are about to share. But despite this desire, there's also a lingering uncertainty in the back of her mind. Can he truly understand what she means when she says "pure and true" love? Or is he still viewing it all through the lens of his own culture and experiences?

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before continuing. "Perhaps tonight... we can find out together." Her gaze meets his, hopeful and uncertain at once as she waits for his response. The air between them crackles with anticipation, the tension growing thicker by the second.

Her heart melts at his confession. It's strange and unexpected but somehow it makes her feel closer to him. She smiles softly, reaching out to touch his cheek before moving lower to trace the outline of his lips with her fingers. "Then tonight," she whispers, leaning in until their breath mingles and her lips hover just inches from his, "we can find out together what it's like... pure and true."

With a shiver of anticipation, she presses forward, brushing her lips against his, feeling the warmth and softness of his mouth against hers. It's unlike anything she's ever experienced before; tender and sweet where previously it had been rough and demanding. Her hands slide lower to find the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head until his bare chest meets her touch. He responds in kind, stripping off her dress and revealing their bodies entwined beneath the sheets.

As they explore each other's skin with eager fingers and hungry lips, Saira wonders if perhaps there is a chance for them to truly find what they both seek... or if this will only end in heartbreak and disappointment. But for now, she allows herself to be swept away by the passion and desire that surges through her veins, relishing the feeling of being cherished and wanted for who she truly is.

No... it's just different. Trust me, it will fit," she assures him, even as she marvels at the size and length of his member. She hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath before nodding in determination. "Let's see if we can make this work."

She guides him toward her, positioning herself so that he slides easily inside her tight channel. There's a moment of discomfort as their bodies adjust to each other's size and shape, but then it passes, leaving only pleasure and desire coursing through her veins. "You're... different," she whispers, arching her back as he begins to move within her. "Your touch... so gentle."

His skin feels impossibly soft against hers; his movements are fluid and rhythmic, each thrust sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. She tightens around him, feeling the muscles of her core clench in response to the sensations coursing through her. For a moment, she wonders if this is what true love feels like... if he can truly understand and accept all of who she is, flaws and triumphs alike.