by Viki Storm
The alien that struck the blow is shouting, and it takes me a minute to realize that he’s not shouting at his fellow invaders. He’s shouting at us, at the humans. He’s speaking our tongue—and well. His voice is deep, clear, commanding.
I want to listen. I want to believe. Because what he’s saying is giving me something I thought I lost: hope.
Then I am on the ground, tangled in a mess of rope. I look to see if Daisy’s alright. A fall like this could easily break her legs. Two aliens approach. They are huge and make crude gestures, and I don’t have to be a genius to know what they have on their minds. And it’s good because I’m not a genius. If I had an ounce of smarts, I wouldn’t be here, about to be defiled in the middle of a battlefield.
Wouldn’t that make a nice bit of symbolism—a long line of alien invaders, ravishing the queen, one after another. Taking the monarch against her will, just like they’re taking the planet.
Then they’re gone. I feel that same warping of the air as it pulls on my eardrums, and the blastwave throws them at least ten feet away.
This is all happening so fast. The cattle, the alarm, the fall, the attackers.
I look up and see another one of the brutes coming toward me. Maybe he’s saving me.
Maybe he just wants me for himself.
I try to look the invader in the eye. He’s huge. He’s closer now, and while I expected him to be a grotesque monster, I’m shocked by what I see.
He’s almost human. Almost.
He is tall and thickly muscled, his skin a dark mix of orange and red, the color of the ochre that merchants’ wives use to paint their lips. There is no hair on his head. Instead, it is covered in slightly raised bumps. He smiles as he approaches, and his teeth are neat and white, but two sharp canine teeth sprout from either side of his mouth where humans only have one. It gives him a predatory look, like he’s going to gobble me up like the Big Bad Wolf of a children’s story.
But his face. His eyes. There is nothing grotesque about them, nothing frightening.
I’m frozen as I stare at him, and I try to tell myself that it’s the shock of the situation. That it’s fear. That it’s hate. But it’s none of those things.
I feel like a scrap of iron as it’s pulled toward a magnet.
Maybe he is the Big Bad Wolf…but maybe I wouldn’t mind letting him gobble me up.
He helps me up, and after a brief negotiation, we head to the palace together. I mount my horse and begin to trot back to the palace. I expect him to struggle to keep up, but he does not. His long, powerful legs make an easy stride, and he walks alongside me. He doesn’t even appear to be out of breath. He wears no shirt, only coarse leather breeches. His chest rises and falls normally as he walks the brisk pace. It is not our custom for men to go without shirts, and I have not had much occasion to spy the male form. I sneak another peek at the invader’s chest. His muscles bulge under skin tight and smooth.
I motion to the guards to lower the palace gate, but they just stare. I’m certain that the last thing they expected was to have their Queen return with one of the invaders as a welcome guest. Well, welcome isn’t the right word.
“Lower the gates, you fools,” I bark. I don’t mean to berate the guards who are only doing their best to protect the palace, but I fear that I will lose my nerve if given half the chance. I dismount my horse, and a stable boy appears quickly to make sure the animal is fed and watered.
“If you are the Queen,” the invader says, eyeing me up and down, “then you will take me to your husband, the King.”
Is he smirking? I can’t tell, but it seems like he is. As if he likes what he sees. I am dirty, my hair is disheveled, and I am scraped from the fall. But he looks at me like I’m the only woman on this entire planet. His gaze stops on my breasts, and I realize that quite a bit more cleavage is exposed than is proper. My corset must have been pushed up during my fall. I can’t adjust it now…and am more than a little shocked to find that I don’t want to. I sort of like the way he’s looking at me. As if his gaze commands it, I feel my nipples stiffen, turning to hard beads beneath the taut silken fabric of my waistcoat.
And now he smiles for sure, noticing my excitement. The silk shifts slightly as I breathe, the cool fabric sliding across my sensitive nipples. I wonder what it would feel like if he glided his hands over the smooth silk, rubbing his palms across the hard peaks.
My face is now flushed red, hot and tingling. Just like another part of my anatomy. Between my legs feels just as hot and bothered as my blushing cheeks.
“I will not take you to the King,” I say, trying to refocus and maintain my authority as Queen. It’s hard to keep up the facade, the command presence of the ruling class. “I am Bryn, from House Spius, the Queen Regent, sole ruler of Lekyo Prime. My father was King, but he is dead now two months.”
“You are unmarried?” he asks. There is a hint of something in his voice that I can’t read. Of course I can’t read it. He’s an alien invader. I’m not going to pick up on any subtleties or social cues.
“That is what I said,” I confirm. I lead him up the staircase towards my chambers. It is when we begin to climb the stairs and the light that bathes the palace entrance fades that I realize I have made a mistake.
I am alone with this alien brute.
Alone and at his mercy.
Moments ago I watched as he struck down one of my fighters as if the man were no more bothersome than a fly. He could do anything he wanted to me right now. He could grab me from behind and wrap those large, powerful hands around my throat. He could push me against a wall and steal my virtue. He could plunge a blade into the side of my neck.
For some reason, though, I don’t feel afraid. Not that the invader will hurt me, anyway.
I’m only afraid of what I must do to save my people.
And more afraid of what I will do if it doesn’t work.
“This way,” I say and gesture down the last corridor. It is quite dark in here; only a few small, slatted windows will light our path.
“Of course, Queen,” he says. He’s closer than I realized. I can feel heat radiating from him. His voice echoes in the empty corridor.
“Bryn!” I turn and see Stine running towards us. “There you are! Where did you go?”
“Everything is fine,” I say. Stine is one unforeseen complication. He mostly means well, but he’s too self-interested, and I cannot wholly trust him. “I am in negotiations with the leader of the invading force.”
“In your bedchamber?” he spits. The disdain in his voice is obvious. I am not a fool. I know one of Stine’s many ploys was to convince my father to let him marry me. Stine has always been protective and overly familiar with me—as if he thinks that he is entitled to my virtue and my throne.
“Where I hold audience is none of your business,” I say.
“Let me attend,” Stine says. “It is not safe for you to be alone with one of these barbarians.” At least this much I agree with.
For the first time, the invader voices his opinion in the form of a loud bark of laughter. “You humans ride horses and wave swords in the air, and you call us barbarians?”
“Leave us to negotiate in private,” I say to Stine.
“My Queen,” he says. “Let me serve as your councilor. There are many aspects of politics and governance to consider in your negotiations. I will help you.” Stine thinks he can sway me, but my mind is made up. These invaders are barbarians, no matter how advanced their technology is. They are stronger than us. Their weapons are more powerful. Their culture is more attuned for warfare than negotiations.
I have nothing to offer their leader. Nothing to give him that he can’t just take.
Except my body.
My virginity.
And he could probably just take that too.
I send away my serving girl, Stelly, and motion for the alien to sit, though I cannot. I’m too wound up, too nervous. I had made up my mind to do this, but now that it’s the time, I worry that I won’
t be convincing in my argument. I worry that he’ll laugh and take out that weapon and obliterate me in the blink of an eye. There’s no reason for him not to. Isn’t that what barbaric, invading races do? Kill the current sovereign and assume power? He could drag me by the hair through the center of town. He could let his entire invading force take turns defiling my royal body with their rude and painful thrusts—a symbolic gesture to remind the humans of Lekyo Prime who is in charge of whom.
“Thank you for trying to reason with my fighters,” I say. “I realize that it would have been useless for them to fight against your obviously superior firepower.”
“Flattery does not work on me,” he says. And I believe him. His is a race concerned with action, results—power. Pretty words are the opposite of those things. Unfortunately, pretty words are what I was raised to be skillful with. Not a sword.
“I do not presume you to be so simple-minded that a meaningless compliment would sway your tactical battle decisions,” I say, but he cuts me off.
“I said that flattery does not work on me,” he says. There is a hardness in his face but a spark of amusement in his eyes, like this is all a clever diversion from his typical day’s work of murder and mayhem.
“Then I’ll get straight to it,” I say. “I have a proposal for you.”
“Interesting,” he says. My heart leaps at this bit of hope. Until he speaks again. “But you don’t seem to realize that I already own this planet. I own everything. Every building, every tree, every speck of cow shit that studs the rocky terrain to the east. It’s already mine. This planet is going to be a Zalaryn settlement from now on. All humans, I regret to inform you, will be relocated.”
I feel anger rise, hot and sudden. Relocated? No, not if I have anything to do about it.
This planet is not his.
“This planet is mine,” I say. I know it’s the wrong thing, but I am so furious that I cannot think straight. The bald-faced anger crowds out my fear and my worry and my hope. In this moment, I’d set a torch to everything if it meant that he couldn’t get his hands on it. “I am the rightful sovereign. Just because your ship just landed here does not make you the rightful owner of anything.”
“Oh, but it does,” he says, still sounding amused. It makes me even angrier to know that my words did not enrage him. “The male who deposited his genetic material inside your mother’s womb just so happened to be a king, therefore you were born a princess. How does that give you any legitimacy? Any real legitimacy? You don’t own anything unless you can fight to keep it. These humans let you rule because of the complacency of tradition. Because they’re too stupid or lazy to think of any other way to do it. Make no mistake, this planet is not yours. It’s on loan to you—until someone stronger and more capable comes along. That someone is me. So I’ll ask you again. What do you offer me that I don’t already own?”
This is it. I must do it. I reach my arms back and feel for the brooch pin that holds my gown together. I pull the pin and feel the shoulder straps of my dress fall down. I am bare to the waist. I feel my nipples instantly stiffen in the cool air. I reach down and unlace the knot at my skirts, and then with a whisper of fabric, my entire garment is at a pool around my ankles.
“You get me,” I say.
I am completely nude, exposed and on display for the invader to ogle.
He is looking at me so intently, so seriously. There’s a flood of heat between my legs. I feel so swollen down there, throbbing and pulsing. I press my legs together, trying to still the incessant desire that’s bloomed like some uncontrollable species of flower.
He stares at me with intensity that I did not expect. He looks at my naked body not with derision or scorn (which I feared) or disinterest (which I feared worse). There is some energy radiating from this alien invader that is barely contained.
When he is finally able to speak, he says, “Like I said, I own everything on this planet. Including that.” He gestures towards my body, his hand so close it almost brushes against my bare breasts. There is a flip of excitement low in my belly when I think he is going to touch me.
And a little letdown of disappointment when he does not.
I am shocked. I don’t know what to do. Was I so stupid that I thought I could seduce him into leaving my planet alone? I have been raised a sheltered princess, my virtue guarded as a sacred treasure. My mother and father cautioned and scolded me to keep myself intact for my future husband. Every man of means on the planet wished to bed me, wished to marry me.
I was the most desirable, most eligible woman on the planet.
And this alien doesn’t care at all.
To him, I’m just another strange female for him to conquer.
I cannot think like my old self if I wish to get out of this. If I wish to save my planet and my people. My old self is not equipped to deal with this new alien threat. In a flash, I get another burst of inspiration.
“You get me,” I repeat. “But not just my body. You might not think it valuable, but you also get my voice.” I pause, the way an angler dips the hook in the water and holds it as still as he can while the fish approach for tentative nibbles.
“I’m listening,” he says. “Sit. Let’s talk.” I reach to pull the bodice of my gown back up, but he utters a stark, “No.” It is not unkind, it is not loud, but his voice commands my total obedience.
I look at the chair directly across from him. He points at it and I sit.
I was not expecting this. I was expecting him to either ravish me or kill me. Maybe I miscalculated. Maybe his race does not copulate and breed the same way as humans. Maybe the parts of our anatomy are not complementary the way human male and female parts are. He sure looks a lot like a human, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. There are a lot of alien races in the universe. Many of them share much human DNA, the theory being that we all stem from some common celestial ancestor. It explains why there are humans on so many other planets, why there are so many humanoid races.
I did not mentally prepare for conducting political negotiations while completely nude, my adversary able to freely and openly ogle my body. It is unnerving, and I expect that’s why he allows me to sit nude before him.
“First of all,” he says, “you shall refer to me as Captain Vano.”
“Of course, Captain Vano,” I say. I try to maintain an air of dignity, my old courtly manners at least providing something for me to fall back on. But it’s hard because I am utterly and literally exposed.
No man has ever seen my naked body before—and that’s all I can think about. I can feel his gaze on my breasts, his eyes trying to look between my legs. I press my knees together so tight my muscles start to tremble.
“Second,” he says. “You wish to enter into some sort of alliance, is this correct?”
“Yes,” I say. He raises a hand to cut me off before I can say more.
“I will be honest and hopefully save you some trouble. You cannot sway me. Humans will be relocated. If you still want to work with me, help me with the evacuations—serve as an advocate for your people, I will allow that. It might be useful for me to have a native explain things about your ways and traditions. But, know that any sort of alliance with me requires total and absolute obedience in every matter, no matter how seemingly small. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say. That’s exactly what I have in mind. Being an advocate. I can’t let him take over this planet without being there to stand up for my people. He says that all humans will be relocated, but surely there’s got to be some flexibility. Humans could move beyond the rift. But there will be more time for fleshing out my ideas later. Right now, I need to convince this invader that he needs me.
“I will not tolerate disobedience. Disobedience will be punished. You must trust that I’m doing what I think is best for this planet and the settlers—Zalaryn and human. I have enough problems without having to deal with a defiant Queen.”
“I understand,” I say. I can’t take my eyes off of him. He looks so
powerful, so strong.
Everything I am not.
Everything I need.
“You understand,” he says, “but do you agree? There is a big difference.”
“I agree,” I say. I would do anything to save my planet.
“You are agreeing too hastily. You do not understand. You do not have to agree to this. I will not harm you or imprison you if you refuse me. I have orders to establish a Zalaryn colony on this planet. I will do this. That is not up for debate or negotiation. You are under no obligation to serve me. And don’t think that giving me free access to your royal little pussy is going to change my mind about colonization. This is a Zalaryn planet now, no matter how well you pleasure my cock. Think on this. Decide in haste, repent at leisure.”
“I do understand,” I say again. His foul language shocks me. No one has ever said those words in my presence. That’s the main reason it excites me so. I have been raised a princess, sheltered and chaperoned my entire life. And now I’m about to—what did he say?—give a strange alien invader free access to my royal virtue. “And I do agree.”
“Good,” he says. His smirk is gone, replaced by the seriousness of his lust. “Then spread your legs apart a little bit. I want to see what you’re offering me.”
I expect his words but not my reaction. The flush of heat pulses between my legs. I feel the tingling pressure as my clit starts to throb against my tightly pressed thighs. My nipples squeeze into hard knots.
But my knees don’t move. I can’t will my legs apart. I know I must obey him—I agreed to follow his orders—but I’m paralyzed. Not by fear. It’s something else that I can’t place. I’ve been cloistered my whole life. Guarded as the only daughter of the King. The only time I was ever in the presence of other boys my age was with three or more chaperones. After my father died and the suitors began pursuing me, I kept Yar close by. Men have desired me because of my status. Who wouldn’t want to bed the King’s daughter? What a story that would make for the taverns! Or men like Stine want me for my position, to become King Consort and rule alongside me.