Two Thousand Years

by M. Dalto

  Taking another sip, she walked to the edge of the bed and put her cup down on the sitting table. “Speaking of, will you help me out of this thing? The weight of this dress alone is exhausting.”

  She turned her back to him for easier access to the bodice’s laces, half-expecting him to come over and assist her with a schoolboy’s enthusiasm, but when there was no response, she glanced over her shoulder to check on the whereabouts of her Prince.

  He hadn’t moved, but instead remained standing where he was, watching her as the candles bathed him in firelight and shadow.

  “Treyan, what’s wrong?” She turned to face him, and as she did so she noticed his wine glass was down as well and his hands before him, fidgeting with an unseen object. His blue eyes were on her with such yearning behind them she couldn’t keep herself from blushing.

  “Alex,” he began. “Ever since I was young, my dreams involved the Empress, and I wondered what our future would be like together. And now you are here, after all these years, and finally my life feels as though it has meaning.”

  She bit her lip but remained silent while he continued on.

  “You know this is something I’ve wanted for a long time.” He took her left hand in his right as his left hand held up the object for her to see.

  It was a ring. But not just any ring.

  The ring. The very same ring she saw in her dream.

  “What are you doing?”

  But she knew exactly what he was doing.

  “I know this may seem rushed, or maybe it’s perfectly appropriate, I don’t know, but I promise you, everything I say to you, now and forever more, comes from the deepest furrows of my heart.”

  Alex felt lightheaded and could feel her knees go weak—this was not the ideal time to faint, she scolded herself as she maintained eye contact with Treyan.

  “I love you, Alexstrayna,” he declared, his voice hoarse with emotion as he placed the ring upon her finger. “Will you honor me by becoming my wife?”

  She stared down to where he still held her hands, and her eyes glanced over to where the ring now rested comfortably upon her finger. This is too much, she thought. Too much, too soon.

  “Alex?”

  She looked up to him. Gazing at him, eye-to-eye, she discovered she finally saw in him what he had seen in her this whole time. She hadn’t realized it before, but perhaps this—the coronation, the marriage, the Empire—this new purpose bestowed upon her was exactly what she wanted—maybe even what she needed, after so many years of searching for something.

  “Alex,” Treyan asked carefully, his eyes intent on her. “Please…say something?”

  She swallowed, her grip on his hand tightening in both support and reassurance.

  No, she wasn’t going to run away this time.

  “Yes.” It was the only word she could get out, but it was the only word that mattered.

  “Yes?” he asked, blinking as if he was uncertain he heard her correctly. In turn the grip he had around her fingers tightened as well, looking for that confirmation.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she repeated, this time with more confidence as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

  “Oh, thank the gods!” he exclaimed as he held onto her, and he kissed her, quite passionately, as if to seal the pact.

  She could have stayed in his arms like that, forever and a day, but Treyan appeared to have other ideas.

  “Let’s finally get you out of that dress,” he suggested as he broke apart from their embrace.

  “You mean like I had suggested earlier?” She smirked, watching him.

  Treyan shrugged as he walked behind her, one arm encircling her waist. “I had a much better agenda.”

  The other hand began undoing the strings of her bodice as he lightly kissed her neck up to her ear. “I told you it would be perfect, did I not?”

  “Mmhmm, and it was.”

  As her bodice loosened, he pulled her close as his free hand reached around from behind, across her chest to find one of her exposed breasts. Applying just enough pressure to elicit slight moan from her lips, he continued to kiss her neck. Soon both hands worked their way to her bodice, loosening it the rest of the way, pulling the dress down and over her hips, until it fell into a delicate pile of skirts and fabric at her feet.

  She now stood naked in the candlelight, and she turned her around to face him. His fingers went to trace the metal along her neckline, and only then did she remember that she still wore the jewelry from the coronation.

  She smiled. “Thank you, by the way. For the gifts.”

  His hand then went up to trace her jawline and stopped to hold the end of an earring in his palm. “Jewels fit for an empress.”

  She closed her eyes and let her cheek rest in his warm hand.

  “Before we go any further, we have to do something with this hair.”

  “My hair?” Alex reached up to discover that though she had removed the crown, her hair still remained up and full of pins.

  “Allow me.” Using his other hand, he removed the remaining pins, one after the other, and the delicate comb from her scalp, which in turn released the remaining curls and tendrils, allowing them to cascade down her bare back.

  “Much better.” Tossing the comb aside, he quickly returned his attention to her, bringing his lips to her for another kiss.

  Her hands found the hem of his shirt, and gathering the soft material in each fist, she lifted it up to reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. He stretched up his arms and assisted the rest of the way, tossing the shirt aside to join the discarded dress.

  Her hands gently traced the details of his chest, running over his nipples, his ribs, down to his belly button, and finally to the tops of his pants. Alex glanced up at him through her lashes, and the look he gave her in return insinuated there would be no resistance this time. Without further hesitation, she untied the belt and readily began to remove them, her hands working their way over each hip, lowering the pants below his waist, wrapping around to pause for a moment on his bare buttocks before returning to the front, where he was more than ready to be released from his cloth prison.

  The girth of him brought a seductive smile to her face as her hand traced along the base of his manhood. “Someone’s ready.”

  A slight moan emerged from his throat as he looked at her. “You have no idea.” Without another delay, he scooped her off her feet and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently and immediately positioned himself above her, making a place for himself between her legs.

  As much as she wanted nothing more than for him to be buried within her, she was in no mood for another night of frustration and disappointment. “Treyan, you said to have patience.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  His kiss was deep with wanting, and she could feel her yearning building in return. Perhaps he felt it too, for he lowered himself to her, against her, and she could feel his passion hardening.

  Without another word of protest or warning, he thrust himself inside of her and the feeling of him was surprisingly overwhelming—all she could do was arch her back against the sensation of him as a gasp escaped her lips.

  He did not falter, her name a sultry whisper against her lips. “Alexstrayna…”

  He thrust deeper, and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in the moment.

  “Treyan…” was all she could whisper, and again he thrust in, deeper still. Again and again.

  Another moan of pleasure escaped her lips as her as her body writhed with him.

  He thrust his deepest then, and a moan escaped her lips. But he held his position to look at her, his breath heavy, and she looked at him, with so much love, longing, and passion flowing through her that the last thing she wanted was for him to stop. She pulled him close, kissing him, wrapping her arms and legs around him to keep him closer, deeper.

  He happily obliged.

  Making love to Treyan was like an erotic dance where their bodies moved fluidly as one. T
heir rhythm remained slow and sensual, allowing each other to cherish the melding of their love for as long as their bodies would allow. When their moment of climax arrived, he finished within her, Alex felt warm within, as though fulfilled.

  Complete.

  He did not roll off of her when he was finished. He remained within her, and returned to her lips, where she welcomed him hungrily. As so their night progressed, even as the candlelight began to fade, their passion did not subside. It was not until the suns began to peek over the edges of the horizon that they allowed sleep to overcome them, and in each other’s arms, they lay as the suns continued to rise.

  20

  “So lovely.”

  Treyan held Alex’s hand, but there was something different about the roughness of the palms, the tightness of the grip. His voice sounded deeper.

  She opened her eyes to realize it wasn’t Treyan holding her hand at all.

  It was Reylor.

  Panic coursed through her as she sat up in bed, still naked after the previous night’s endeavors. Modesty escaped her as she attempted to pull her hand away from him, her eyes scanning for any sign of the guards that patrolled the palace throughout the night. But they were nowhere to be seen, and Reylor’s grip only tightened, pulling her closer to him as if she were no more than a rag doll.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Empress.”

  Looking into those red eyes at such a close proximity made the man who possessed them so much more real, and Alex felt her blood turn to ice. She frantically looked around, attempting to make better sense of the situation, and that’s when she saw Treyan.

  He lay on the bed next to her, naked and motionless but very awake. He was engulfed by a red aura, its force keeping him in place upon the bed, created by the two mages who stood next to his body. Treyan’s eyes burned the darkest fury Alex had ever seen.

  “Treyan!” she screamed, again trying to release herself from Reylor’s grasp, but this time the Betrayer held both of her hands in his and pulled her out of bed into a standing position, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder while they both looked at Treyan.

  “Unfortunately, Empress, the Prince can do nothing for you now.”

  Alex struggled against him, and an arm quickly came up to her neck in a choke hold. His voice turned harsh. “Enough of that, or the only one who suffers will be your Prince.”

  To emphasize his threat, he nodded to one of his mages, who in turn intensified the field around Treyan, causing him to scream in agony.

  “No! Stop!” she cried. With another nod from Reylor, the mage relented.

  “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  He loosened the arm around her neck but left it dangerously close to her exposed breast.

  “I see the Empire has welcomed you with all of the formality expected of a predestined deity.”

  His other hand slid down her left arm, grabbing her wrist to hold up the ringed finger. She closed her eyes. Her skin would have crawled off her bone if it were able and she silently wished it would, and she with it, as his touch made every cell within her body want to scream and hide.

  “The Crown Prince fulfilled his fated duty.”

  His hand on her chest squeezed her breast and pulled her tight against him.

  “Did he at least make sure you were the Empress before he fucked you?” he mused against the skin of her neck. “Or did he feel the need to claim you for his own before anyone else could even consider it?”

  She let out a yelp of pain as his hand squeezed harder. Treyan’s eyes never left them, but the hatred in them burned deeper as he watched, helpless against the magical restraints upon him.

  Alex, however, did struggle, using every ounce of her energy to remove herself from his grasp. Even as Reylor began to walk them away from the bed, his arms still wrapped around her, her fear of him now mingled with an anger and rage at both what he was doing to her, to Treyan, to the Empire.

  Reylor wasn’t just a name and face from a nightmare anymore.

  Ensuring Treyan was still able to see them from where he lay, Reylor sat her down in front of the vanity’s mirror where her naked, tear-stained reflection looked back at her, and behind she could see Treyan on the bed, still struggling to move while his silent death glare remained on his brother. Reylor came up behind her to block her view of Treyan, surprising her and he laughed at her expense.

  “Don’t worry, Empress, he won’t be coming with us.” He had picked up her discarded robe and draped it over her shoulders, only then noticing the jeweled crown sitting in its safely secured box. Reaching over her shoulders, he unclasped the cover and removed the crown from its case, examining it over in his hands.

  Glancing back to his brother, a sly smile came to his lips. “Mother would be so pleased to see you kept it in the family.” He returned his attention to Alex and gently placed the crown on her head.

  “Now we are ready to go.”

  Reylor lifted her from the bench and turned her to face him. His hand brushed her cheek with sickening sincerity and she turned away from him as much as she was able. Amused, he only continued on as the hand ran along her jaw and down her neck. “It’s been a long time, but now I’m with you, even after all these years.”

  He grabbed a hold of her neck and brought her lips to his in an extremely forced, violent kiss. “Oh, and Empress, if you even think about running for help…” He turned to his mages.

  The mages intensified their powers, and Treyan’s screams were burned into her memory.

  “Keep him here until we are gone,” Reylor ordered as they made their way to the door, his hand still hard on her neck. “It’s time the Empress saw more of her beloved Empire.”

  Despite the time of day, the castle remained quiet as though its inhabitants remained in a deep slumber. No guards stood watch, no help from the kitchen bustled about their daily duties. Even the Councillor, who always appeared to be underfoot, was nowhere to be seen. Even if she dared scream, she wasn't sure anyone would get to her fast enough.

  Reylor had tethered a rope of the same powerful red aura around her wrists, securing them behind her back, but still retained a death grip on her upper arm as he pulled her through the palace. She assumed he remembered every passage and back hallway that would get him where he needed to go with the least detection, and soon he brought her to a dark unused stairwell that led down to an old wooden door.

  Behind the door were the stables, but other than the horses no one was seen. No one other than two more of Reylor’s mages, holding the reins to their horses, awaiting their lord’s return. Reylor traded Alex to one mage in exchange for the reigns of his horse. He jumped into the saddle first, and Alex was unceremoniously hoisted into the saddle in front of him. His arm wrapped tightly around her waist, securing her against his chest.

  “Let's go home, Empress,” he snarled into her ear as he kicked his horse into a gallop towards the Borderlands.

  21

  Reylor couldn't help but watch her lying there, thinking how better suited black looked against her skin than the brighter garb of the Empire, regardless of that damn ring on her finger.

  If it wasn’t a family heirloom he would have considered pulling it off of her and melting it for the metal alone.

  The Empress lay unconscious on the bed within the chambers Reylor had prepared for her arrival, and he stationed mages to monitor the door to ensure she didn’t venture out on her own any time soon.

  The chain around her ankle that attached her to the bedpost would most likely assist in that as well, if only as a temporary precaution until the castle was better situated for the Empress’ extended stay.

  Once the Borderlands had come into view, she began to grow aggressive, and it was safer for all parties involved to have her immobile upon their arrival. He hadn't wanted it to be this way, but sometimes one must take matters into their own hands. Treyan began the conflict the moment he banished him to the hellhole known as the Borderlands. He refused to listen to h
im when he told him the Prophecy was wrong, had assumed there was a deeper treason involved when he, of all people, had dreamt of the Empress before Treyan. Reylor wasn’t the Crown Prince, he had been told in the midst of his brother’s threats, and if he acted upon any of it Reylor would have been as good as dead.

  His brother chose to not make any of this easy, for any of them, so Reylor decided the only way he would get what he wanted was to begin anew of his own making.

  He had been erased from the Annals already, what would the Prophecy matter at this point? His future was his own now, and by the Empire's own doing no less.

  There was much to do now, but the magic necessary required time to perfect, and he only had a moon's cycle to complete it.

  Could he convince Alexstrayna within that small amount time?

  For her sake, he hoped so.

  Reylor had ordered his mages to bring Alexstrayna to his chambers the moment she awoke, and though it was not until much later that day, they followed his orders dutifully. He had just sat down for his evening meal when the door opened, and between his mages was a very awake, and very belligerent, Queen Empress.

  “Wonderful!” he exclaimed as he stood to meet them. “I was hoping you'd be awake in time to join me.”

  She looked at him with those beautiful dark doe eyes.

  “Fuck you.”

  One mage raised a hand to strike her for her disobedience against his Lord. She braced for the impact, but Reylor grabbed the mage's wrist before it met its mark, bent it backwards at an unnatural angle, and in one fluid motion cracked the bones beneath his fingers. The mage released Alexstrayna in a yelp of pain, but Reylor refused to let him go.

  “You will never raise a hand to the Empress, do you understand?” His voice remained steady as the mage's eyes widened at the severity of his circumstance.

  The mage nodded and Reylor released him from his hold.

  “Be gone now,” he commanded as he took Alexstrayna's arm in his, and the other mage assisted his injured brethren through the chamber door.