Queen Arthur (Futanari Erotica Fairy Tales Book 6)

by Julie Law

  Queen Arthur

  (Futanari Erotica Fairy Tales #6)

  By

  Julie Law

  Copyright ©2014

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  A sword laid embedded in the rock, its hilt and the beginning of the blade the only parts visible, yet that was enough to show its sheer beauty.

  The grip was made of black stone-like substance, uniform and smooth. Silver adorned the pommel and the cross-guard while golden lettering could be seen all over the sword – letters of a kind that most of those gathered around the stone had never seen before.

  Of those men only Merlin, wisest of all wizards, could read those golden words, but he wasn’t preoccupied with their content, already knowing what the words said. He was too worried about other matters.

  Part of him felt like scoffing.

  He was surrounded by kings, nobles and princes, yet he felt like he was surrounded by children, kids who were constantly provoking each other.

  He was worried about what would happen to his country if one of them took the sword from the stone.

  A war was likely, but Merlin supposed he could do nothing about it. Not at this point. His only comfort was that – behaving like that – none of these men would be the chosen one.

  He shouldn’t have obliged the request of the Lady of the Lake.

  He should have ignored the fae woman and thrown the sword into the lake the moment he understood what it was, but he had been awed by the possibilities the Lady had dangled in front of him.

  A United Kingdom, the Isle of Britain reunited under the leadership of a single king, ending the strife of brother against brother that had been going on for centuries.

  Merlin shook his head.

  It was folly.

  The men around him wouldn’t bow down to just anyone – simply taking Excalibur from the stone wouldn’t be enough to convince them, no matter how powerful it was … and Excalibur was powerful, exceedingly so.

  Merlin could feel its magic from several feet away, a golden pool of pure energy that would be capable of destroying anything in its path.

  The wizard turned his back on the stone and walked away, needing to be alone for some moments.

  At first he had hoped one of the wisest kings would take the sword, pry it from the stone and wield it – it would be easier for the others to fall in line if the prophesized ruler was already powerful or respected.

  In that case, Merlin’s backup and Excalibur would make sure a new regime would swiftly follow, but it was not to be.

  Not even Uther – who Merlin grudgingly admitted as the wisest king in the isle – succeeded in taking the sword from the stone.

  Tensions increased when the last of the British rulers tried to lift Excalibur and failed. Those without heirs turned their backs on their counterparts and left the gathering, muttering behind their backs, calling Merlin a charlatan.

  They were afraid of what was to come.

  Others remained, waiting for their allies and retainers to have a try, hoping the wielder of Excalibur featured amongst their ranks.

  As time passed more and more men left the scene, until only the most powerful and cunning remained – those that understood that only by being in the thick of things would they be able to affect the outcome.

  Merlin worried.

  He could vividly remember the words from the Lady of the Lake, words he made his own when he convinced the kings of Britain to gather here.

  Whoever pulls the sword from the stone is the rightful King of the Britons.

  The wizard sighed.

  He felt old and, for a moment, he wanted to give up, leave these men alone and rest, but then he heard it – the sound of laughs and mocking. He turned around and saw a child approach the stone under the scrutiny of those gathered.

  Merlin couldn’t figure out much about the child from afar, seeing only the lad’s long golden hair matted with dirt … and yet there was something child’s pose, some inherent confidence that made Merlin pay attention to him.

  Some of the others must have seen it too – no one stopped the child from reaching forward and putting a hand on Excalibur’s hilt.

  The hand tightened around the sword and pulled, the blade becoming visible in its entirety, leaving those gathered speechless.

  The child thrust the sword upwards and Excalibur shone gold, so bright the men gathered had to close their eyes. They fell to their knees, knowing they had found their king.

  The light washed over them and they opened their eyes, their sight fixed on the figure holding Excalibur. And yet, despite all that attention, only two men realized a truth about their new leader.

  Merlin exchanged a look with King Uther, and the other man nodded.

  They’re new king – the prophesized ruler of Britain – was a girl.

  Chapter 1

  Morgana hated Arthur.

  She had always hated the other woman, ever since they were children and Morgana’s father – Uther Pendragon – told her Arthur would one day be her husband and become the King of all Britain.

  The then eleven years old Morgana had turned to her father and asked, confused, about how two girls could marry each other.

  Her father had exchanged a look with Merlin and then they whisked her away; imprisoning Morgana in her quarters until they told her what had happened and made sure she understood her role in the events to come.

  At first she screamed and refused them, but as the weeks went by and Uther didn’t relent, she surrendered and accepted her fate. Her betrothal was announced that same day and her hate became set in stone.

  Few knew that Arthur was a girl.

  The older girl was an extremely androgynous child and Uther lied about it, knowing a female ruler wouldn’t be well accepted. He went as far as making his daughter Arthur’s bride so that there could be no doubt.

  Merlin strengthened that deception with his spells, masking Arthur’s true figure – all for the good of Britain.

  Those spells hadn’t been powerful enough to fool Morgana who had some innate magic of her own. She had seen right through them the first time she saw Arthur.

  Merlin told her afterwards that she had the potential to become a powerful witch or sorceress and, for some moments, Morgana dreamt she would be able to use those arcane powers, learn enough magic that she wouldn’t have to obey her father and marry Arthur.

  Her hopes were dashed the moment her father refused to consider the matter, forbidding the wise wizard from teaching her.

  Uther knew her well, knew what she would do if she could.

  Morgana hated her father for it.

  Uther was ready to sacrifice everything – his lineage, his kingdom and his daughter – for the dream of a United Britain, something he believed only Arthur could provide.

  A marriage between Arthur and Morgana would be one more layer to the deception Uther and Merlin had weaved, a way to both legitimate Arthur as the ruler of Camelot and strengthen the blonde’s position.

  The only one that would suffer for it would be Morgana, who would be forced into a marriage where she would be left loveless and childless, unable to continue the Pendragon line and living a lie for the rest of her life.

  It might have worked out if not for Arthur’s enemies.

  Arthur’s reveal as the chosen one had given her lots of enemies, especially from those that would lose the most with her new kingdom. Petty kings and nobles figured extensively in that list, and not even Camelot�
�s protection was enough to dissuade them from trying to attack Arthur.

  There were several attempts on the blonde’s life during years, usually foiled by Merlin or by Excalibur’s power, and as time went on they became scarcer, less frequent due to Camelot’s increased power and Arthur’s soaring popularity.

  Those enemies decided to wait for the right moment to strike a decisive blow – they waited for the day of Morgana’s marriage to the blonde.

  It was an attack that was doomed from the start.

  Merlin was too powerful, as was Arthur when she wielded Excalibur, and Camelot had gained too many allies during the years. The fighting was quick and decisive, yet it acted as a distraction and allowed Morgana to escape from the city, leaving behind the life she had ever known.

  She had been eighteen years old.

  It didn’t take long for her to realize she wouldn’t be able to survive on her own, but she tried anyway, knowing that at any moment her father’s men might find her and drag her back.

  She felt free like when she had been a child; she had no worries, she had no destined fate – she could live her own life.

  It didn’t last and in the end she was captured as she had feared – not by her father – but by Nimue, one of Merlin’s most dangerous enemies.

  When Morgana met Nimue she had been both terrified and intrigued.

  The woman was powerful and above all she was willing to teach Morgana, show her how the world worked and what she could do with magic, but there was always a price to pay for Nimue’s mercies.

  Where Morgana was concerned that price was, most often than not, paid between the witch’s bed sheets, the princess having to surrender her body and spirit to Nimue’s ministrations.

  The times when Nimue requested another payment were worse.

  Nimue was a sadist – someone who took pleasure in the pain and humiliation of others – and Morgana learned soon enough she preferred the humiliation of being the woman’s whore than of being her victim.

  Morgan spent three years in Nimue’s company. Sometimes she couldn’t help but feel it was ironic in a way; she had fled from her home to be free of a marriage to a woman and ended in a worse situation, in the clutches of a far scarier female, someone much more interested in her body than Arthur had been.

  It made Morgana hate even more, yet her hate wasn’t directed at Nimue – it was directed at her father, at Merlin and at Arthur. It was their fault she was there, because they wouldn’t let her be free.

  At least Nimue had made her powerful.

  Eventually Merlin caught up to Nimue and the woman was killed. Morgana was forced to flee once again, but now she was powerful enough to live and thrive on her own.

  She managed to escape Arthur’s reach for another two years, but eventually Camelot caught up to her.

  *****

  Morgana shook her head, her curly black hair swaying from side to side, hearing the sound of the Arthur’s knights storming her fortress. She couldn’t think about the past, not when she needed to get moving.

  Quickly, she grabbed her grimoire and a few other items from her study and moved, running towards her room, while armored men climbed the stairs towards her position.

  “Wait, stop in the name of the king.” Someone shouted, but she ignored him, running even faster.

  Whoever ordered her to stop cursed and followed.

  Morgana entered her room and closed the door, casting a spell in it afterwards. The wooden door flashed blue for a moment and it didn’t budge when someone crashed against it a few moments later.

  Morgana sighed and gathered her clothes, moving as fast as she could. She wasn’t as powerful as Merlin and, if the wizard was amongst the attackers, she needed to escape before he reached her.

  She put all the items she had collected in a burlap sack, careful not to joggle them too hard, before she started to cast the spell that would transport her out of the fortress. It wasn’t easy – it was a very hard spell and it took time– but she believed she would be able to finish it before her attackers broke in.

  A moment later she was proved wrong as the door splintered into little twigs of wood.

  Morgana blinked in startlement as she saw who had done it, her spell wavering for some moments before she managed to retain control of it.

  Arthur lowered Excalibur and focused on Morgana, seeing her former fiancée for the first time in years.

  “It’s over Morgana.” She said after a few moments.

  Morgana blinked again, still surprised, but shook her head. “No it isn’t. What are you doing here Arthur?”

  Behind the blonde king, Morgana could see Camelot’s soldiers move hesitantly from side to side, unsure if they could protect Arthur from Morgana.

  The dark haired woman shook her head.

  She hated Arthur, but she only wanted to be left alone – she knew she would never have peace again if she harmed Camelot’s king.

  Focusing on Arthur herself, Morgana realized the blonde woman had changed over the years.

  There was still an aura around her that indicated that Merlin’s spells were active, hiding her true face and figure, but that figure wasn’t as androgynous as it once had been.

  Arthur was clearly more feminine now, her cheeks rounder and her lips fuller. She was actually quite fetching.

  Morgana shook her head again.

  Nimue had made her notice the beauty women had, maybe even appreciate it, but she would not think that way about Arthur, she wouldn’t sink that low.

  “I’m taking you back.” Arthur replied, voice solemn. “You’re going back home.”

  Morgana simply raised an eyebrow. “Camelot hasn’t been my home in a long time; I think I’ll pass on your invitation.”

  Arthur took a step forward and Morgana one backwards, making the blonde stop in her tracks, sighing.

  “You need to return.”

  “Why?” Morgana replied sarcastically. “Last I’ve heard you have a wife, so you don’t need to marry me – I don’t get why you’re still pursuing me. I want nothing to do with you or your kingdom.”

  “You followed Nimue for years, a sworn enemy of Camelot.” Arthur pointed out. “Some could say you haven’t paid for that and demand your incarceration.”

  Morgana’s lips tightened in her fury. “It’s not like I had a lot of choice where Nimue was concerned.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Arthur conceded with a nod. “But you’ve learned from her, you gained powers that make most men afraid. People have to know they can trust you. Come with us.”

  “I will not.” Morgana said rigidly. “I’ll fight you if I have too.”

  Not that she could defeat Arthur.

  Excalibur protected the blonde from all hostile magic. Morgana would never be able to affect the other woman with her spells.

  Arthur sighed and looked away from her for a moment. “You have to come.” She said.

  “Why?” Morgana hissed. “Why should I, when I only want to be free of you? I won’t attack you or yours, if that is what makes you afraid.”

  Arthur’s reply was barely more than a whisper, but Morgana could still hear it clearly as if it was a shout.

  “It was your father’s last wish.”

  The dark haired woman blinked, trying to process the words for a few moments. Her mouth opened and closed twice without a sound, her heart thundering in her chest.

  Arthur’s arms closed around her and Morgana startled, only then realizing she had been hyperventilating. She could only think about the blonde’s words repeating themselves in her mind.

  It couldn’t be; her father couldn’t be dead.

  “You’re lying.” She accused, looking at Arthur.

  Arthur’s eyes were sad and full of pity, her hold on Morgana increasing, becoming tighter, almost comforting.

  Morgana couldn’t take it. She shook herself from Arthur’s embrace and pushed the other woman. “You’re lying.” She repeated.

  “I’m sorry.” Arthur replied.


  Morgana turned away from the blonde and leaned against the wall. She needed to breathe and think, to hide herself from the world and not face the fact her father was dead.

  Her relationship with Uther had always been fraught with difficulties. Her mother had died when she was still a baby and Uther was not a gentle man, too worried about his kingdom and his subjects to pay more than a smidge of attention to his daughter.

  Morgana had still loved him and hearing he died hurt, especially after years without contact.

  Arthur poised a hand on Morgana’s shoulder and suddenly the dark haired woman could think clearly, her anger for the blonde king clearing her thoughts.

  She shrugged, releasing herself from Arthur’s touch. “You tell me my father is dead and you hope that will make me return? That just makes it even more unlikely.”

  Arthur sighed and breathed deeply. “At this point I don’t really care about what you want.”

  The bluntness made Morgana’s eyes widen and she stepped back from Arthur, surprised.

  The blonde was always courteous, even to her enemies – it wasn’t like Arthur to act so directly, without taking into consideration the wants of others.

  “I’m going to do what your father wanted and keep you safe in Camelot.” Arthur continued. “You need to see his grave and pay your respects, at the very least.”

  Morgana felt her anger starting to simmer – she hated being told what to do, and for Arthur to do it again made it unbearable.

  The first flash of magic, as a small fireball impacted against the blonde’s chest, made everyone stop and stare, silence reigning for some moments.

  The attack didn’t harm Arthur, her armor unblemished, one of the perks Excalibur granted her, making her immune to hostile magic, but it made the two knights behind the blonde tighten their holds on their swords and, far more importantly to Morgana, it made Arthur frown, lips drawn tight in distaste.

  “You’re just like him and Merlin.” Morgana hissed at the blonde. “You’re always trying to command me, always giving orders.”

  Arthur didn’t like that; Morgana could see how her blue eyes got cold, and the way the blonde breathed before replying.