Broken Princess

by Renard, Loki

  He fucked her without mercy, gave her everything she had begged for and more. He pulled out and threw her into a new position; her legs over his shoulders and then pushed back over her own head, he used her hole with the vicious sexual alacrity of a hell beast.

  “You want my seed, Princess? It will be the end of all things!”

  In her ecstatic state, she could not fathom a beginning or an end of anything. Everything that mattered was taking place now, between his cock and her cunt.

  “Fill me! Make me yours! End it all!”

  His snarl filled her body as he arched over her, pumping desperately, his hard pubic bone grinding against her clit, pushing her into an orgasm that clenched his cock and set off a chain reaction she would one day deeply regret.

  In the moment, she screamed her pleasure as he came inside her, hot jets of divine seed filling her pussy, splashing against her virginal womb. It was wrong. It was so very wrong and that was what made her shriek with perverse pleasure.

  “Oh, Aya...” he breathed, his form becoming more like the guardian she had known before. Kazriel rocked his hips inside her, pushing his seed deeper.

  Looking up at the creature she had at one time cursed and loathed and feared, Aya felt nothing but the purest connection to him. His flesh meeting hers was more than mere carnal touch. This was not like being fucked by an ordinary man. This was a transcendent experience, and with every thrust she found herself being pushed into higher and higher realms, the dull mundane reality of the fabric and stone around her giving way to places of dancing light.

  One orgasm gave way to more lovemaking. She was exhausted, but he would not let go of her. He kept urging himself in and out of her aching pussy until fresh strangeness emerged.

  The world was small, but they were large, and no longer was she making love on her bed. Instead she lay among the stars, feeling herself stretching out into an eternity of existence in which time became an irrelevance.

  In that eternal sphere, she fell into Kazriel’s embrace time and time again, spreading for him, engulfing him, her flesh becoming his. She felt him thicken, felt his muscles tighten, his body becoming the arch of the sun’s corona as he spent himself inside her, filling her pussy with the seed of a god.

  His climax triggered hers a thousand times over. She screamed and held tight to him, her body battered by solar winds and earthly storms as she came and was thrown back into the world from which she had come. She could just barely keep hold of him, her fingers making tight indentations on his flesh.

  She was falling, falling, her body lit with pleasure and release, her legs spread and trembling, her sex wet and coated in his seed.

  And then she felt the bed beneath her and she was back, as if she had never left.

  “Very few living mortals ever see what you have seen,” Kazriel murmured, his kiss hot against her lips. “Are you alright, my sweet princess?”

  She nodded, gasping for breath against his lips, barely able to speak.

  “Your royal blood allows you to tolerate what would have killed any other mortal,” he murmured, caressing her skin with his large palms that always made her feel so small in comparison. “But there may still be some lingering effects. Don’t try to move.”

  She wouldn’t have tried anyway. Her head was spinning, and the flesh between her thighs was aching from the cosmic ravaging. Whatever she had become was different from what she had been before he put himself inside her, joined with her and elevated her from the small mundane space her mind allowed her.

  “What was it I saw?”

  “Just a part of the realms beyond this one,” Kazriel explained. “You will see, one day, when it is your time, you have so much growing to do, there is so much more you will become. For now, you must rest, Princess. I lost control. I allowed my seed to spill inside you. If it takes root, history will be forever changed.”

  Aya was too tired to ask further questions. She had not just been fucked, she had been taken apart at the most basic level. It felt as though every cell of her being had exploded and been remade.

  “Is this how it is every time?”

  “There can only be one time,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead.

  Her eyes went wide and her fingers clutched at him. Was it the effects of their lovemaking? Or was he colder than he had been before?

  “What...”

  “Sleep now, Princess. There will still be time when you wake.”

  * * *

  There would be time, but not much. He had given into his desire much like a beast would, and now the inevitable, unavoidable consequences would play out. Kazriel was filled with regret and remorse, but the few moments of pure ecstasy they had shared would not be changed by that. There had been supreme beauty in the moment. He hoped she would remember that, and in the end it would be worth the sacrifice she did not yet know she had made.

  As Aya slept in the sheltering curve of his arm, Kazriel mourned the mistake he had made, and all that would come of it.

  “I am sorry, sweet princess,” he murmured down at her sleeping body. “You will have to be so much stronger than you realize you are. You will know pain. True pain. You will see more than you should ever have had to see, and you will make decisions which will leave you feeling as guilty as the broken king you replaced. Forgive me for my failings. I will be with you, even if you do not know it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aya woke on the most beautiful morning of her life. She felt free and full...

  “Hello, beautiful princess,” Kazriel greeted her. His voice was so full of unfettered affection. It was a far cry from how he had sounded when they first met, when he spoke with harsh judgement and stern reproach.

  She curled up against him and smiled up into his handsome face. “Morning.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Different,” she admitted. “I don’t know why, but...”

  “It is new life,” he breathed against her neck. “It flowers inside you. Do you feel it?”

  She did not know what she was feeling. She felt... rearranged. Something had changed in her, and it would never be the way it was.

  “You have planted your seed inside me?”

  “Yes. You will bear a son.”

  “How can you know... oh, of course, you know all things, don’t you.”

  He may not have known all things, but he knew many things. Things he wished he did not have the burden of knowing. Already, Kazriel felt the pull of slumber. He was growing tired. The spreading of his seed took much energy. He had performed his duty. He had saved the crown. He had re-seeded the royal lineage. Now the mountain called him, no matter how much he resisted it.

  “What is wrong?”

  She ran her fingers over his arm and felt to their mutual horror that the flesh was no longer hot and muscular as a human’s might be. It was hard and rough. Stone-like.

  “Kazriel, what is happening?”

  “I’m sorry. I tried to tell you. It is a matter of...” He sighed and it sounded like the wind through leafless trees. “I cannot explain it even to myself. It is a matter of balance. There can only be so much divinity in the human world. You bear the spark, and our son will be powerful beyond imagination. My energies are dwindling now. I will be gone from this world soon, but I will not be gone completely. I have left something inside you. A life which will grow. You will be a mother. I will be guardian to you both.”

  “No.” She shook her head as panic rose. “It’s too soon. You can’t leave me already! I don’t know so many things! I don’t have the support of the nobles! I will be deposed almost instantly. They will pick one of their number and marry me to them!”

  “You will not, because you will not allow it. My final resting place will not be the mountain. It will be at the very heart of the city. It will be where you will rule, and where our line will flourish.”

  No sooner had she fallen in love than everything seemed to be on the verge of being taken away. Aya felt tears gathering in her eye
s, misery and grief overwhelming her.

  “Please. Don’t leave me. I can’t survive on my own. I will be lost without you.”

  “You will more than survive, Aya. You will bring Norvangir to new heights. You will be the change the people have been crying out for. And you will grow in wisdom, as well as kindness. Do not doubt your heart, Aya. For it will never lead you astray. Come with me to the throne room. There is not much time left.”

  “I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want you to go...”

  “I don’t want to leave you either. Know that I love you. Know that we will be reunited. Remember all that I have taught you, Aya. You can be a good queen as long as you remember never to bow down to evil.”

  Her eyes were full of tears. The ending was coming too soon, and all at once. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was not supposed to be alone.

  She felt Kazriel hardening with every step, heard his joints begin to rumble painfully. He was being sucked from the realm, back to one of the others that she had seen so briefly in her climax.

  “Take the throne,” he rasped. “Take your rightful place. I will stand behind you. I will rest my hand above your shoulder and when you sit in this throne, you will always know that I am with you, even if I seem to be very far away, or not there at all.”

  “Please, Kazriel, is there nothing you can do?” Aya’s tears ran wet down her face. She wanted so badly to hold on to him for just one more hour, even a minute would have been better than nothing, but their time was so much shorter than that.

  Aya sat upon the throne, which had been rebuilt by the finest craftsmen to suit her stature and beauty, and felt his hand warm upon her shoulder, large and guiding, full of passion and strength—and then she felt it harden and become cold.

  When she looked up, Kazriel was gone. In his place was a stone statue, a cruel echo of the man she had come to love.

  “Look over me, Kazriel, and over our son,” she whispered through her tears. “And have mercy on me. I am not ready to be queen.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Three months later...

  Though Aya grieved the loss of her lover, under her kindly rule prosperity returned to Norvangir, trade and art flourishing in the loving atmosphere Queen Aya fostered, most especially in Lokheim, which saw a renaissance unlike any before it.

  There were minstrels on every street corner, artists plying their trades. Trinkets and scarves and bowls made by hand thronged the streets. The old banners of Vengar were removed and burned, replaced with brightly woven tapestries of many colors.

  Aya took great delight in donning a colorful robe and walking among her people, sampling their wares, encouraging their toil. She disbanded the royal guard, for what need was there for weapons or burly men when peace had come to Norvangir? All was well, and would remain well, of that she was utterly, blindly convinced.

  It was soon noticed that she was burgeoning with the telltale signs of a new life, another cause for great celebration. Blue and gold and red and green powders were burned, creating clouds that covered the city in color, and the people danced day and night, falling down in the streets to sleep their excitement off before rising to their feet and dancing again.

  Later, the period would be referred to as the great madness, but swept up in the middle of it all, neither Aya nor any of her subjects saw any problem with it.

  For ninety days and ninety nights, the celebrations continued, driving Aya’s grief from her mind. The loss of Kazriel did not seem so terrible or so permanent when she was surrounded by the love of all those over which she reigned. She was certain that he would return to her, there was no mortal who could compare to him, and so she would not countenance the idea of taking another lover. She would be queen until her celestial king returned.

  Boom!

  The explosion that ended the celebrations occurred at the zenith of the ninetieth day. The sun was high, the music was loud, and at first nobody noticed the carnage among the happy chaos. Screams of terror were mixed with cries of happiness until like a rolling dark wave, pure evil spread over the revelers, passing through them in a ripple of smoke and flame and death.

  The city wall was destroyed, and the marketplace was on fire. Through the breach poured the very worst brigands and bandits, cruel lawless men who set about robbing, murdering, and desecrating with no resistance whatsoever. Those men who might have been strong enough to resist had been weakened by days of drink and drugs and were overrun like lambs to the slaughter.

  People fled hither and thither, some attempting to escape with their lives, others trying to put out the fires with buckets of water. It was useless. Within minutes, the entire castle town was ablaze, everything inside the castle walls and outside as well, many hundreds of homes turning to tinder in the wall of flame.

  “Protect the queen!”

  A few kind civilians tried to pull her away from the worst of the brigands, using themselves as shields, but in the end there was nowhere to run. The attack had been carried out all around them with a devastating precision that left no room for retreat.

  Aya stood with tears in her eyes as she watched all she had built burn. How could someone do this? Why would anyone do this? These people were innocent, unprotected. There was no honor in killing them, and there were no real spoils to be taken. It was cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

  She kept looking for some leader to come forward and claim responsibility, take charge of the chaos, but none did. Raid after raid of bandits came through the city, taking everything of value that could be carried away, and smashing that which could not be removed.

  Queen of ashes, that was all she was when the flames died down. By the end of the day, the city was littered with the dead and the dying. There were hundreds of refugees clustered outside the walls of the city, setting up tents where they could, scrounging amid the remnants of their lives.

  This had never happened when Vengar was king. He had been a brutal, cruel leader, but he had kept a near perfect peace. Aya walked among her people, heard their cries, saw their pain, and wished she could have prevented it. But she had not seen this coming. There had been no warning of it. No whispers had reached her throne—and if the nobles knew of it, they had kept it remarkably secret.

  She felt the weight of her failure so very deeply that in the end she had to turn away from the people and return to the castle to prostrate herself before the statue that had once been her lover.

  “How could you allow this to happen?” She clutched at the statue’s feet. “We laid our trust in you. We counted on your protection. Please, you must return. We need you. Unspeakable evil is at our door, and I do not know what to do...”

  “He never answers when you need him.”

  The voice that spoke made her freeze in fear. Kazriel remained silent. The voice came from behind her. She never thought she would hear it again, and yet it could be no other. She turned her head slowly, almost afraid to look and see... Vengar.

  “I used to pray to him, a very long time ago,” the old man said, pushing back the hood that covered his head. “But he never replied, and in the end I had to make my own path to the source.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Aya stammered; rising to her feet, she collapsed into the throne, which now felt cheap and meaningless sitting as it did amid utter destruction.

  “Did you? Why? Did you hear of my death? Did you see a body?”

  “No, but...”

  “You have the sense of an infant,” Vengar snorted. “Out of sight, out of mind. A foolish mistake, Aya, and a deadly one for the fools who followed you.”

  “I thought Kazriel must have struck you down. Why would he allow you to live?”

  “A guardian cannot kill a royal. He had to let me go, he had to give me the free will to live the life I chose to live. Perhaps he hoped I’d die, but he was not so fortunate—and nor were you.”

  Aya could barely bring herself to ask the next question, but it demanded an answer.

  “Was it you who br
ought the brigands? Did you burn the city?”

  Vengar waved his hand dismissively. “I did what was necessary to regain proper order. You were spoiling the people, Aya. They were beginning to think themselves equal to you.”

  “They are!”

  “No. They are not. They are peasants, citizens, nobles, and none of them are equal to a royal. To think that they are is to strip the throne of its power, and to strip the throne of its power is to leave everyone vulnerable to the brigands at the gates.” He spread his hands in a mocking wide gesture and smiled a very unpleasant smile. “Like me.”

  “You want to reclaim the throne.”

  “Smart girl,” Vengar smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you live. Your guardian will not wake again for a hundred years at least. You will be a very old woman by the time you see him again, if you ever do. But you will be married this time around. You’ve served your purpose. You drained the bastard god of his seed, just as I intended for you to do. I will select a noble for you. One may take you even in your ruined state.”

  “I am not ruined! And I am queen! The nobles will not follow you...”

  Vengar laughed. “We shall see, Aya.”

  A few men shuffled into the chambers. To Aya’s relief, they were not bandits, but instead they were the old guard. Men who still believed in her. Men who might still back her against the evil king who had just put entire families to the sword.

  “Guards! Arrest this man!”

  They did not move. She saw their eyes flat and stupid, caught between loyalty to her and the fear instilled by Vengar.

  “Don’t be silly, Aya. You were never a queen. You were only ever a puppet, dancing first to my tune, and then to the guardian who has abandoned you.” He gestured toward her belly where a bump revealed her gestation.