All characters in this story are age 18 or above. This is a fantasy story with a BDSM relationship featured within it. Because of that, I'm placing this in the BDSM category. Enjoy and know that there is another part forthcoming.
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I was born in the fifteenth year of His Majesty, La'ar's reign. My father was his chief war counselor. My mother was one of La'ar's most experienced warriors, until she died in battle, three years after birthing me.
When I was seven, King La'ar died, and the kingdom passed to his son, fifteen-year-old Kie'ran. Kie'ran was already considered to be a strong leader on the battlefield. With his father's death, King Kie'ran retired to the palace to rule his vast kingdom.
My seventh year also marked the beginning of my training as a warrior. Ely'kee, my trainer who had also trained my mother for battle, praised me. She said I had my mother's speed and agility for hand-to-hand combat.
I was ten when I faced my first battle-hardened army and eleven when I took down my first mounted warrior. My mother smiled at me from beyond the Lake of the Cryes'hes.
At around that time, I became known as the Phoenix. I, Desine'aa, had the ability to return from nearly impossible battles. What's more: I never lost a warrior. Being the daughter of my father, the most impressive firebreather of his generation, I could summon fire from my fingertips with a mere thought.
On the eve of my eighteenth birthday, I was summoned to court. The time had come for me to be mated, for me to become a vessel for the next generation.
As was customary, I was stripped bare, my body perfumed sweetly and oiled to a sheen in the firelight. My sleek limbs and svelte curves had served me well in battle, but I despaired now of enticing a man. Midnight dark hair shot through with fiery crimson highlights, the mark of a firebreather, was coaxed into a coil at the top of my head.
I looked into the vision glass, and eyes of ancient gold stared at me through the mist. As a warrior, my goals were simple and few: to fight, to live, and to conquer.
As a maiden on the eve of her maiden day, my future was more tenuous: I would be paraded before all of the men of the kingdom. The one of highest rank whose interest I piqued would take me—either as wife or concubine. My new lord and master would determine whether I could remain a warrior. I was subject to his caprices.
"Aye, lass, staring at that vision glass will not make your bubbies grow any faster. But don't worry, lass. Enough men will want to ally themselves with your family and your war chest," my nanny from childhood Al'areen suggested "helpfully."
Just yesterday, I had heard of a maiden being chosen by no less than the very picky Eil de Fri'lia. Of course, she was also gorgeous with huge—"bubbies."
With a heavy heart, I descended the stairs, heavy, cold stone, to the king's throne room. Usually, the maiden day mating selection was held in the castle keep. Out of deference to my father's position at court, mine was to be held in the more intimate throne room.
There was a chill in the air, and my burgundy nipples puckered. Embarrassed. I tried to fold my arms over them, concealing them, but the bodyguard who accompanied me put his hand on my arm, stalling my concealment.
His voice was deep, yet gentle. He wore the livery of the king, so his rank was roughly the same as mine. "Lass, trust me, don't hide your gifts where you are going. It's easier for young lasses as beautiful as you if you show what you are."
I nodded and let my hands fall submissively to my side. For a moment, his eyes that perused my curves frightened me. If one of the king's own guard ravished me where I stood, I had no defense. Their word, short of a countermanding edict from the king, was law. Coming of age after witnessing so much in battle—and as the men in my command enjoyed the women at the fringes of every encampment—lessened my innocence of the congress between men and women.
The moment of fear passed when the guard bowed to me and wished me luck in finding a mate. As he walked away, a part of me wished to bid him back. Lecherous glances, I was about to receive aplenty, but his had seemed layered with concern, respect, and regret.
To center myself, I thought of the lush forest where I had spent the first ten years of my life. A warrior does not allow herself to become homesick, but yearning for the forest was the closest I ever came to that undesired emotion.
My father met me at the heavy golden doors of King Kie'ran's throne room. "It is time, Desine'aa. I am proud of you, daughter."
As he opened the door, all of the men of the kingdom slanted their eyes to me. I had faced down countless armies intent on invasion, countless armies that stood between our kingdom and the conquering of more territory, but I had never had the urge to retreat.
It took everything in me not to flee from their regard. The look the guard had given me seemed platonic by comparison. Lechery. Hunger. Greed.
"Courage," I heard a voice whisper in my head, the voice of the kind bodyguard. He was a telepath! I craned my neck to find him, but I saw him nowhere. The king, also, was nowhere in attendance.
"Lady Desine'aa de Cisi'aea, daughter of Counselor Ja'iia and warrior General Pe'rea," announced the herald. "This lady is a renowned warrior in her own right, called the Phoenix for her ability to survive perilous battle situations. Her war chest is impressive, valued at 500 million grazans. As you can tell from her hair, she is a firebreather."
The crowd rumbled excitedly, probably from the amount held in my war chest, the booty from the battles I had won. Oddly enough, the men did not find my body abhorrent. The "kind" telepathic bodyguard filtered their thoughts to me. Some of their thoughts were admittedly creative; some were downright terrifying.
A question came from the back of the crowd. "As she has been long in the company of male warriors, how can we be assured of her purity?"
Al'areen spoke up. "I have traveled with her ladyship these eight years she has been in battle. No man has ever touched her with intent—ever." My nanny's word, coming from one of the oldest and most respected servant families in the entire kingdom of Fa'alak, was unquestionable. "I swear by the goddess of the two twin moons that she has remained a pure vessel."
My father opened the negotiations, as was his right. Five men strode forward. The first, Eldrick de Ca'bril, held property that adjoined my father's. He was older than my father by a good fifteen years; he had survived five wives. His mental fantasies frightened me most. I felt unclean for witnessing them, and my bodyguard felt shame for presenting them to me. My father, knowing his neighbor's propensity toward bloodshed during sexual relations, quickly turned him down.
The second to step forward was lower in rank than the first but had gentle eyes. Because others approached of higher prestige, my father rapidly dispatched him.
One of my warriors, Ria'lo de Gra'icre, approached as the third prospective mate. Higher in rank than the other two, he was also my age. My father and he conferred for a moment before the herald brought my father a message. A smile lit on my father's face, and he nodded, gesticulating wildly to the herald to make an announcement.
"All rise. King Kie'ran has claimed Lady Desine'aa as his concubine and fiancée. Everyone please depart immediately."
