His mind floated back years to his bedchamber in the pod. Saul snored (as always) in the bed across the room. It was dark but moonlight showed through the window. Even though he was naked under the thin sheet, his whole body sweated with the clammy heat of the warm-season. The warmth made the urge worse. For hours he lay awake resisting, but his need was too great. He reached a hand down and felt his hardness. His heart skipped with excitement at the thought of having the feeling. When he tried to resist the urge, he had a sinking sensation of disappointment. Leon lay there, tormenting himself, trying to make a decision. It was a sin to do what he was about to but he couldn’t resist. Slowly, he began to rub himself up and down, trying not to make a sound. The frustration of having to keep quiet was too much, so he risked going faster. As he continued, the feeling was building and his body grew tight. He held his breath through the last few seconds. As he began to throb with pleasure, his breathing turned deep and he let out a moan. He felt the warm seed on his stomach and hand. Now the embarrassment, guilt and cold white was all over him. A moment ago this was all he wanted and now he would do anything for forgiveness.
He threw back the covers then reached for the towel cloth on the floor next to his bed. As he sat up, his seed ran down the muscles on his stomach and into the dark-brown hair around his groin. Leon’s body jumped as the round door to the room started to open. Firelight from the hallway flooded in and forced him to squint his eyes. Frozen to the spot, he managed to blurt out, “It’s so hot, just wiping the sweat off me.” He forced a chuckle.
It was the Mister. “I know that is not what you were doing, Leon,” he said with a comforting but firm smile. “I see through the Mother and She sees all. You have transgressed.”
There was no way out of this, he had transgressed and the Mister knew. Surely something that feels so good cannot be a sin. They were always told the Mother wants them to be happy and that feeling made Leon feel very happy. For a short time at least, but then the dreadful guilt would come afterwards. He tried to sound as repentant as possible, saying, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I had to do it.
“And that is why it is a test, Leon. That experience is to be with the goddesses and they will return one day but until then, you must resist and follow my teachings. There are times and places where you can do such things but you know this is not one of them.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
The Mister leaned away, widening his old sagging eyes. “The Mother cannot be wrong,” he told Leon. “You know I do not tell lies.”
As Leon remembered hearing those words from years ago, he suddenly snapped out of memory and was back in mortal pain, lying on the dark forest floor. The agony grew in his leg until it consumed him. He fell back out of consciousness. Memories swept over him. Some crept into the forest where he lay bleeding and others were completely in the past. Reality and his dreams became mixed and he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. The cold beads of sweat clung to his face. He shivered so much that his whole body jerked and made the pain in his leg even more unbearable. The night seemed like an eternity. His dreams were full of old memories, dying goddesses and even his own death.
At last, morning came. Pale sunlight crept through the trees. The cool morning air felt like life returning to his chest as he awoke. He thought all was well in the world until he was reminded of the hole through his left thigh. I’m going to die here.
He began to pray, “Mother, give me strength. Mother, give me guidance.” His faith always got him through whatever situation he faced in the past. However, this one was the worst. From his teachings, he knew the Mother tested a brother’s strength in many ways. This was just another of Her tests. Thoughts rushed through his head. Leon was taught that false goddesses were sent to try to lure brothers inside them to take their seed. They would not bring life but bring sickness instead. Only true goddesses can bring life from a brother’s seed and give them true ecstasy but they are all gone now. The being he met last night didn’t try to tempt him inside her, so she couldn’t have been a fake. It felt as if she only wanted to care for him. If she was a true goddess, the Mister surely wouldn’t have let her be harmed. In fact, she would surely be immune to an arrow!
Leon didn’t know who died in his arms last night or why the Mother would let him suffer alone in such a way. He could no longer feel Her strength and he doubted that he ever truly did feel it. He took control and let himself feel what he had felt building for years. None of this is true. The woman…she was trying to warn me. She died trying to warn me. Get up, he told himself. Get up!
And the prophet, Maran, said that a queen shall not lay with her king and serve him only in mind with a true heart.
Prophecies Scripture, The Maran
Londenia
A Queen’s Duty
King Romarus sat next to her, picking at the arm of his high-backed wooden throne, while another of his subjects addressed him. This was the seventy-fifth one to speak in court today. Queen Londenia’s rear had gone numb from sitting on her throne—adjacent to the young king’s. She had felt on-edge all day and her nerves grew worse seeing the boy king becoming less and less attentive as afternoon turned to evening. The stifling throne room had began to cool, indicating that the blazing desert-sun outside must have dropped below the horizon.
The moisture farmer, who stood at the foot of the dais, spoke of the trouble he was having. “Your Grace, they come to my farmstead every day, offering us savior from the fire. We are one with the Ten and want nothing to do with their false god, but they are quite persistent.”
When the old, sun-baked farmer paused, silence fell in the throne room. Queen Londenia’s heart thumped as she willed her young leader to respond correctly. After all, she was responsible for him. As queen she was chosen to advise, guide and rule in matters of state. However, the main reason for Londenia’s nervousness towards the boy’s behavior was because of her feelings towards him—wrong and inappropriate affections for a queen to have towards her king.
The boy king stared blindly ahead, still digging his nails into the grain of the throne. The quiet scrapes echoed off the unadorned, mud-covered walls. The only other sound was the occasional crack from the fire torches that lit the large room. King Romarus portrayed a strong masculinity for being a youthful-looking boy of only sixteen years. However, this childish boredom on display at present, lessened that maleness somewhat.
The old farmer continued with a shake to his voice, “Of course we asked them to leave immediately and return to Arland where they belong, Your Grace.” His calloused hands fumbled with a tattered headscarf clutched to his chest. Silence dominated the room except for the scratching of wood.
“His Grace praises you on your obedience to the Ten,” Queen Londenia said, rising tall from her throne next to the king’s. She wore a green silk dress that hugged her slim hips and long slender legs. An emerald hung between her shaped eyebrows. She was well known across the Ten Kingdoms for being a beauty. Sometimes she would agree with such judgments. At other times she couldn’t stand the sight of her own reflection, fussing over every tiny imperfection in her skin or stray hair out of place.
“We will increase patrols to put a stop to this annoyance, for one as loyal as yourself,” Londenia continued, while smiling. Turning to the boy king, she cleared her throat. The sound echoed off the high, sand-colored walls.
Romarus gasped and shook his head. “Yes, I will add two more guards to the east-dune watch,” he said, forcing his trained kingly etiquette. “Is that what you want?” The king’s persona slipped at the end.
The old man stepped towards the throne, raising his voice and shaking his head, adding, “But two will likely make no difference.”
Two of Romarus’s guards stepped forward in front of Queen Londenia and the boy king. They halted at the end of the dais—in front of the advancing farmer—and clacked their staffs on the slate floor.
The aging, desperate man raised his open palms. “Your Grace, these people ar
e the ones who took your father away from you…away from all of us. It was they who were responsible for us losing our great King Locutus. They cannot be left to wander our lands freely.”
The audience in the throne room stirred with the rumble of voices. Londenia saw Romarus’s chin quivering at the mention of his father. The boy gazed blankly ahead.
You bring up his father’s death as a means to gain sympathy? She cursed the farmer with a piercing glare.
The death of Romarus’s father, quickly followed by the loss of his mother, played heavily on the boy’s already sporadic mind. His lack of attention was simply boredom, she was sure, but his emotions ran faster than a hunted espa. He was a kindly person and was never cruel or judgmental. The comely-faced boy king had a certain swagger about him and a confident exterior. Queen Londenia could see through the bravado though. It was simply a shield that the boy held up to protect the sensitive youth within. She pitied Romarus in some ways; forced to take up his father’s throne at a young age. Even if the majority of the kingdom was sandy wasteland, he was still responsible for the towns, villages and bazaars that scattered the land. The responsibility was challenging, on account of the settlements being spread over such a large area and in such close proximity to ungodly places.
The boy king sniffed. The murmuring court fell silent again as Romarus rose from his throne. His imperfect purple cape hung behind him, draped around his shoulders, covering the right side of his body—under it, he wore only a simple white vest. The clothes he chose to wear daily were not that of a king; soft cotton trousers, simple boots and guards’ leather gloves completing his humble outfit. He wore no crown on his neatly trimmed and groomed brown hair.
Romarus’s bare left arm reached out and tapped one of his guards on the back, as he said, “Stand down.” The guards saluted him with clashing fists in front of their chests and stepped aside. “I’m sorry,” he told the old man, “but all I can spare is maybe five men.” The king’s blue eyes were fixed unblinking on the far end of the throne room. He sat back down and went back to scraping at the arm of the throne.
You apologize, when most kings would have had him beaten for questioning your decision, Londenia thought to herself. Do not offer apologies and do not show weakness. She strode part of the way down the small dais towards the old farmer. Puffing out her chest with her head held high she said to the king, loudly for all to hear, “A wise decision, Your Grace, and I am sure this will satisfy your loyal farmer.” Holding her smile, she looked across the audience in the throne room. Its tall, sand-colored walls shimmered in the light of the fiery torches that lit the court.
“Y-yes, my lady. That will be most welcomed,” the farmer bowed as he spoke. He shuffled out of court through the large wooden door opposite the thrones.
Londenia was a maid of twenty-six years and served as queen under Romarus’s father until his death. Now she was queen to this boy. He may have been young but she still found him charming; his loveable-rogue nature could win over women—and even some men—from the simplest peasant to rich noble. As his queen, she would never lay with him. That was not her place. She had seen him take part in the guards’ training and thought he was a fine warrior. She even considered him a brutal fighter, especially when his erratic emotions came into play. Many of the guards who were twice his age, feared to be paired with the blue-eyed boy king. However, he didn’t stand much taller than the top of Londenia’s breasts.
Now in her eighth year of rule, Londenia made sure to use her experience to keep her new king on the correct path. He needed her guidance daily and she was very willing to give it.
Still smiling, Londenia addressed the court, announcing, “That will be all for today.” Her smile quickly shrank as she turned her back on the audience.
The throne room bustled. White-robed figures began to leave through various doors and corridors leading off into the rest of the keep. It sat in the middle of Deca’Herem, the capital of Last Kingdom. Smallfolk from the surrounding area, dressed in off-white dirty cloth, all left through the heavy wooden door that the old farmer had used. It was dusk and the breeze wafted in from the cooling desert town outside.
“Well,” she said to Romarus, “you’ve had a long day.” She sometimes felt as if she was talking to a child.
“Thank fuck that’s over. We helped the old man though, didn’t we? Was that the right thing to do?”
She held back a snigger. The king frustrated her with his stupidity sometimes, but she found his bashfulness, combined with his caring nature, very genuine. “Yes. It’s all we can spare and at least we are seen to be helping him.”
“How do I know what’s right?” he asked, like a child. “I don’t want to fuck things up.”
Londenia answered with the reasoning that her mother had once taught her: “The gods will guide you. Listen to each of the High-Ten and they will show you the path you need to follow. If you open up your mind, they will come to you. Close your eyes and picture the god of wisdom. Hold the face of Yod’Herem in your head. Feel his words flow through your body, up through your feet, your legs and your chest…What do you feel? Those are the gods’ words guiding you.”
“The only thing I feel is that I want to see some of my horde,” he replied with a breathy laugh. His eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding Londenia’s gaze.
Typical, she thought. “If that’s what you feel, then that’s what you are being told by the Ten.” She threw her hands up in the air with a shrug and managed to force a smile. “I will fetch one of your horde.” Londenia strode towards the royal door behind the thrones to find one of Romarus’s many wenches.
“Two. Lida and Ogla,” Romarus requested before she could leave the room.
This was the last thing she needed to be doing. Her kingdom was being irritated by nuisances from Arland from one side, and bombarded with requests to help with the continuing aggressions because of tax increases on the Cotton Trail from the other. There was also a growing number of outlaw attacks in villages spread across Last Kingdom. However, these issues seemed to pale in importance to the message carried by a rider that arrived this morning from Mor. The message asked for an audience with seven of the ten kings. The purpose of the gathering was written in the message but she had not had a chance to read it before court. Queen Londenia was hoping to attend to this matter immediately but now that her king needed to warm his cock, she made that top priority.
She had the wenches ready in the royal bedchamber by the time Romarus had changed his clothing from court. Now of course she had to oversee the king’s entertainment (as expected of a queen). She watched as the two wenches took off her king’s clothes. As the boy king pressed his lips over the wenches’ bodies, Londenia watched his piercing blue eyes. For a rare moment, she saw focus and purpose behind his stare. That’s all he wants. Why can’t he be like that in court or when he’s making decisions for his kingdom? For his people? she thought longingly.
Londenia knew that his lack of conviction in matters of state did not stem from a lack of caring. He was barely a man and had what few others had at that time in their life—a horde of women who wanted nothing more than for him to put his seed inside them. Romarus was yet to put his seed in the necessary places to create life. She made it her duty to make sure the first child Romarus bore would be with his (yet to be named) wife. This was to ensure a pure blue-eyed first prince for Last Kingdom. It was one of the few kingdoms left that could trace its line of kings, unbroken, back to the gods, with no direct brown-eyed influence.
Before his clothes were fully off, the king was already pleasuring himself inside his trousers. The wenches giggled. Queen Londenia felt a shiver run down her backbone. They are women with no substance, here in this keep only because they have pert breasts and can make a man’s cock hard. Nobody realizes the work a queen must do for her king and people. Deep down, Londenia knew that the women simply did this to survive and to improve their lives. She knew their stories. It was her job to know their backgrounds and some were tr
agic. This didn’t change the fact that they were experiencing something that she never would.
The wenches ran their hands over Romarus’s hairless chest, and groped the muscles on his stomach. The blonde one knelt down. She pulled the king’s cottons down to his ankles and slapped his hand away. As the wench began to rub the king, Londenia could see the pleasure on his face, causing a stirring in her own groin. The wench took the king’s cock into her mouth. Londenia let a hand creep down to rest on her lap. She pushed against herself through the dress, massaging through the fabric, but this did not suppress her frustration or yearning.
One of the wenches made eye contact. Londenia jerked her hand away from her lap. Her gaze snapped to the corner of the room, away from the suspicious glare. She didn’t see what I was doing. I’m sure she didn’t see. What if she did? With her heart thumping, Londenia’s eyes were drawn back to the boy king.
Romarus stumbled backwards to a pile of cushions on the floor, still trying to reach the brown wench with his lips and make sure his cock stayed inside the blonde one’s mouth. He fell back onto the soft furs and velvets that covered the small hill of cushions. He lay back, hands behind his neck. The boy king threw his head back. His eyes closed. The brown wench went behind him and rubbed her breasts in his face. The other continued to suck. All the time, the king’s emotions were steady and his attention focused, for once. Londenia watched for some time as this rather repetitive scene continued. The only change was the increase of Romarus’s body movements and the sound of his moans.
The door to the chamber flew open. Londenia jumped up like a guard expecting attack. When she saw Bwick, she breathed freely again. It was ill advised to interrupt a king when he was in the middle of such an act. Anybody who did so was either of ill intent or very stupid. Bwick had no ill intent of any kind!
A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes) Page 2