Queendom 13 Dreamstone

Author's note:

The current draft is incomplete. I'll update in a week or so, with a much better edit, but the story-beats will remain largely the same.

Story so far:

Queen Elanor of Wolkenshire, the Great Chaste, is having a hard time keeping a level head, navigating the daily politics and policies of her court, while mourning the unexpected demise of her true love, King Barthomius. With a war brewing deep in the forest green, against the many tribes of Orcs united under King Kawgorth, the Queen desperately yearns for anything that could bring bliss to her mind. Advised by the High Priest, she employs Bellatrix of Agrafena, a promising horse trainer, as the new Head of Households. Bellatrix correctly identifies the key to the royal dilemma, but it involves manipulating the Queen's bodily cravings, primarily the sexual kind.

Bella starts treating the 'condition' in secrecy, without violating the Queen's chastity, nor risking her anonymity. But the sheer sexual nature of the tasks waking up her inner dormant cravings, an untameable beast of true deviancy, was something no one expected. Bella appoints four random servants as 'Handlers' to aid in further training the Queen. The Handlers believe they are training a Royal body-double.

One of the Handlers, Sentryman Hoyt, forces Elanor out on a task, which goes awry midway, until the Queen gets saved by a mystery man. After resting up for a week, letting her scars fade, the Queen is gearing up for her new task.

Meanwhile, ther human war efforts finally finds a surprise win, managing to wound the Orcan King, and break up the front line integrity.

***

**

*

"Are you certain there isn't another way?"

The towering buxom Orcess asked, failing to mask an uncharacteristic helplessness in her voice. The old witch had the answer prepared.

"Would I ask of you if there were any, daughter? You were very dear to him, very..

special

. The title of Yevel is no small gift. For your King, Nishca, you must."

Her tone, her choice of words, were all near-maternal, yet Nishca couldn't shake the sense of coldness in that voice. Vehmeth continued, to the worried surrounding orcs.

"King Kragorth is stable for now, but he is nowhere clear from danger. The poisoned arrow to the shoulder went in too deep. The whole left arm is now deadwood. Amputation would be the only choice, if that fever doesn't subside by morning. He is conscious, more like 'in and out'. Trapped in lucid nightmares, I've no doubt. The damn toxin, concocted by the brightest alchemists of Wolkenshire, is proving tricky. Luckily Kragorth had the good sense to abstain, even from drinking water. Now Nishca, if you may.."

But why me? Why must it be me?

Nishca asked in silence, perplexed not just by circumstance, but her own inability to read the hag right in front. She was always good at reading faces, and watching the decrepit old visage before now, the Great Witch Vehmeth as they called her.. She couldn't tell if it was just an act, or genuine concern for the King. Concern for the Orcan-kind who had given refuge to the Sisterhood of Dark Mages, as they were hunted down madly by the humans, in an era not so long ago.

In the last many months, Nishca had grown too dependent on the wicked wisdom of Vehmeth the Witch, so much that it clouded her judgement. She looked at the surrounding orcs, General Tavok and Chief Bruder. The latter looked as dumbfounded as ever, but it was Tavok's judgement that Nishca valued. For despite the many rumors about her past, despite him keeping his distrust of her no secret, Nishca had always felt this strange sense of reverence for the General. She knew deep down, that Tavok respected her. He respected some strange aspect of hers, at the very least.

His eyes said the same, that he was no fan of involving Nishca anymore than absolutely necessary. In fact it was quite evident in his tone, despite the urgency, when they had met by the clearing six nights prior. When Nishca had helped him navigate the deeper greens, with Bruder carrying the wounded Orc King through the swamps, getting to Vehmeth's liar in half the time. Even for the experienced witch, it took three long nights to stabilize the King's condition, around the time when news from the war-front came. The banks of river Kscharah had been lost to the humans.

Those bloody slimey fucks..!!

Bruder gritted his teeth.

Eyeing Nishca, Tavok asked the Witch.

"Why her? We have a dozen maidens right on call. Mountain orcess, the best healers in the wild. Wouldn't it be better for them to.."

Cutting off the General with a glare, which would have intimidated most, Vehmeth spoke.

"I'm aware of the King's wishes, General Tavok.

Him choosing you as successor for one

, but need I remind..?! We all bow to Kragorth still. The Great Orcan Head! And it was me, whom he entrusted with his wellness. I decide how to heal him."

"Oh, I mean no disrespect,

witch

..", said Tavok in a tone that couldn't be more irreverent. "Just that, it seems preposterous, ignoring the best help present, going instead for the Dark-eyed.. Hmm.. Yevel Nishca here, I mean."

As much as she hated that dreaded nick-name, Nishca couldn't have agreed more. Shaking her head in negation, brushing up those disheveled springy greys, Vehmeth explained.

"I'm only answerable to the Great King Kragorth. His whole body is weak now, but my anti-toxins seems to be working. That, combined with the boosting medication is what keeps him floating for now. His digestion is improving, but he can't chew with that injured jaw. Which is bad, because he really needs raw nutrients now, and yes.. Mountain orcesses help feed him, by premastication. Full body massages are done thrice a day, to improve circulation and ease the muscles. The toxins are being sweated out, so he needs to be regularly wiped and cleaned, and yes there were some unexpected side-effects to the combination of medication and anti-toxins. Which is why.."

Unimpressed by the answer, Tavok spoke up.

"That's still not sufficient an explanation, Vehmeth. The mountain orc-maids are trained to suck out venom right through the bite-mark. And Nishca here.."

"Your King is erect, Tavok."

That sure silenced the towering orc warrior.

He's what? Now.?!

Vehmeth continued, with the same cold diction.

"Well, calling it an erection wouldn't be right, especially for orcan standards, but since administering the anti-toxins, Kragorth have stayed semi-hard, consistently. The aforementioned side-effect. Aruba roots, one of the key-ingredients, is a much priced aphrodisiac in human circles. Not that you orcs had ever needed such enhancements, but.. Apparently it works on your kind as well. All the mouth-to-mouth from feeding, massages and constant wiping, coupled with whatever unfolding in his fever dreams, is keeping

things

semi-hard. And worse, it's flooding his balls with seeds at an unnatural rate. You needed an explanation, so here it is. For sake of his health, he needs to be.. milked, for lack of a better word.. At least four times a day. Which is where Nishca gets to show her gratitude."

"I don't.. Umm.. I don't understand."

Tavok found the topic difficult and awkward, especially with the green maiden standing right next. Had she had any shame left, the Dark-eyed Orcess would have looked away, or at least flinched. But Nishca remained listening, as Vehmeth continued.

"As you are well aware, Tavok, one of the reasons our dear King held this green one at a special place, is because of her history with humans. The slimey-fucks, as you call them. My very own kind. The many months she spend..

in captivity

, I've been told she had mastered the art of pleasing the limpness. I call it limpness, because that is what even the best of human hard-on is, compared to an average orcan organ full-mast. Wood couldn't compare, after all, with rock."

Taking a moment to enjoy the discomfort in the males around, Vehmeth continued.

"Unfortunately, Kragorth hadn't in him now, the energy to stay full-mast. And if I were to let the Maidens of the Mount tend to it, I'm afraid things would go so wrong so fast. Their excited pelvic clamping could crush his pecker, even their normal grip-strength could prove too much. No, the King needs someone who knows softness, with touches and techniques that would honestly be too shameful for the orcan notions of sexual conduct. Methods that only human inferiority can conjure up as outlets of pleasure. Methods that I'm sure Nishca have mastered, for she wouldn't have survived so long in captivity without. If you insist, General Tavok, I can provide a much detailed description.."

"Enough.!"

Nishca spoke up at last.

"General Tavok, I appreciate your concern for me, even if you wouldn't admit it, but.. I'm here to help, to serve my King, any way I could. I could count in one hand the few who even consider me an orcess worth a second-chance. When my own tribe saw me as nothing but the reminder of a great shame.."

Vehmeth cut them off, with a pleased look.

"The woman has made her decision. Is there any objections still, General?"

Tavok looked at Bruder, wishing had the arrow stuck him instead. He never had aspired to lead his kin, except to victory through bloody conquests. His home and heart had always been out in the wild, not the corridors of power. Politics was never his thing, and this woman, this vile witch, was a master of that field. The General could only nod in agreement now. Vehmeth continued, as she gestured Nishca to walk up front.

"Trust me Orcan, this is what your King wants. It is no secret, that he had aligned himself with the Prophecy. I know that belief is not your thing, by temperament. But try to have some faith, for sake of your King. For I have seen it. The legend of the Skorsh isn't just real. It is inevitable. The Blend is inevitable. You wouldn't want to be so adamantly unwelcoming, of the True daughter of Yevelshka now, would you?"

Nishca wished she could scoff at such notions, like she had when she was vibrant and naive. Now though, after hearing Soren's last report, hearing that strange surety in his voice as he called her

.. Her, the human who rules them humans..

The reverence in him as he hailed her,

the Orc-Queen..!!

Nishca had her own reasons for wanting it to be true. She was made a believer, more by spite than necessity. It was strange, wanting to be true something you fundamentally hated. For any orcan who dared to think, that Prophecy was a paradox. Because for the prophecy to be true, requires an admission on imperfection.

For the prophecy states explicitly,

Nishca recited to herself in silence,

that we orcs are no perfect beings. We are taught to never forget the same. For we are rabid creatures of chaos. Fated to war with each other, until the time of Blend. The bringer of harmony!

And Blend would be born only to a 'Skorsh' being.

Skorsh means perfection

. A perfect being from afar, who would be the vessel of the Blend. Blend, who is the bringer of harmony. And his vessel, the perfect being.

Which we aren't, none of us are.

Only a true daughter of Yevelshka can be the prophesied Orc Queen. An actual Goddess Incarnate in flesh, who can bring unto the marsh, the Blend. The King of Kings. The Divine Orc, the unifier of all tribes and kinds. The ruler of all beings. That is the prophecy!

What made King Kragorth so much of a believer in that old tale, Nishca never understood. She knew it had something to do with that manipulative witch, but even then.. She played along at times, but deep down Nishca knew that she was no true believer. But that didn't mean the point of such tales was lost on her.

It took her time, and a lot of suffering, but Nishca had known for a while now, that the point of legend, isn't to announce the coming of a savior.

It is a reminder, that none of us are the perfect being. It's so we may learn to live with the imperfections, for none of us are the perfect incarnate. Speaking of imperfections..

Yevel Nishca saw for the first time, the glorious manhood of her Great King, pulsing right before.

It's a shame I never got to witness this in full-mast.

"Go on, daughter." Vehmeth smiled.

"Serve your King."

**

*

"Lady Households?! Speak of coincidences.. I was about to contact your office just now."

"I came by twice, last week. Heard you were down with the flu. Feeling okay now?"

Cyrian smiled.

"I'm fine. Perfect. Please, have a seat."

"Now what would be so pressing, for the Domestic Espionage, to contact the Office of Households, I wonder."

Bellatrix said, with a mockful tone, reaching over the table for the small bowl of dried fruits he was snacking on. Ever since the surveillance mission on the Order of Swords, she had often used him as a springboard, for working out various security risks with regards to her Queen's treatment. Of course she was careful to be vague, with these 'hypotheticals', but over time she had grown to trust Cyrian. He was the closest one to a friend, within the royal circles.

"So did I, wonder. Given the recent rise in threats, both foreign and internal, given the war out there in the greens, one that is no closer to winding down, I did wonder Lady Agrafena, why my best man was send playing priest, to some country monastery of all places. Send under your direct order. Care to elaborate, Lady Agrafena?"

Bellatrix nodded, putting on her best poker-face.

Finoch. This is about Finoch.

This wasn't her first time entrusting a tricky puzzle with Finoch, one of their best spies, and probably wouldn't be the last. After all, it was by sheer luck that a scandalous disaster got averted during her visit to the Hillsdale, the one where an over-confident employee took matters to his own hands, and got his near-naked Queen flogged in public like a common criminal, nearly exposing her identity. But the abject fear in Hoyt's eyes later in the evening told well, that even sheer luck had limits. That the Queen, the decoy-girl in his eyes, had been spotted. Probably recognized. Now that's something Bella can't leave to chance. Which is why she had men posted at the countryside, posing as migrant-workers, keeping an ear out for fresh gossips and rumors. Why she had tasked Finoch, the elite spy, with finding out what the cleric actually knew. Tailing Labiet, the young cleric from the Absolvement, one of the two who had likely seen the girl's face. Known her secret even.

How am I to explain it all to Cyrian?

Fuck me.

As the poker-face solidified, Bella responded in a serious tone.

"I don't believe the Households in under any obligation, to come clean to the Domestic Espionage."

Cyrian leaned closer from across his desk.

"Oh, I don't mean to violate any royal discretionary measures, Lady Agrafena. I'm simply saying that Finoch is too valuable an asset to waste on such simple tasks. Why not just lock up the

suspect

, indefinitely if need be?!"

Of course, the thought had crossed Bella as well. As much as it meant imprisoning an innocent man, a cleric at that, whose only sin was seeing something he wasn't supposed to, Bellatrix knew the choices were limited. It was the Queen herself who insisted, to let the young man be, at least until it was certain that he posed a genuine threat. Which is why Bella settled on keeping tabs for the time being.

No, let's not complicate this any further. It's only Cyrian.

Level with him, Bella.

"I see your point. May be sending Finoch was an overkill. I can't go into the details, but this is my mess. And I need to keep tabs on someone in that monastery."

"Consider it done, we have no shortage of alternatives. Should we be more aggressive? Interrogate the suspect, our boys are damn good at it."

"NOPE.! No, I.. We don't want him scared either, scared enough to do something stupid and irrational. Keeping tabs will do for now. Can I trust you with that, Cyrian?"

"A friend in need, you ask?! All yours, Lady Agrafena."

Despite his best efforts, Cyrian's voice had a slight waver, which signaled to Bellatrix his inexperience, and much else. She asked in return, sounding more confident than before.

"Are you, Cyrian? In need of friends??"

Cyrian stayed silent for a few seconds, gauging the other through gaze, until he exhaled in relief.

"You got me, Lady Households."

"How bad a pickle?"

Bellatrix asked, easing it the backrest. Rubbing his chin, Cyrian replied

"Bad. We don't know how bad, but it is bad. Unless we plug the leak."

Leak.?!

"Yes. There's a leak in the Domestic Espionage. We've been aware for a while now. Many of our deep cover agents have been fed bullshit information for months now. As if someone from our side had been trading names, positions of our operatives, secret identities. I've cast a wide net to nab the bastard, but it's too wide a range. And with your help, Lady Agrafena, we may narrow it down. Reel it in."

That sure sounds a lot like what I came to enquire on.

Bellatrix bobbed her head.

"Go on."

"There's a super secure channel of spies, established by General Scarlin himself, a circle even I'm not privy to. It's the only channel that we can confidently trust. Everything else seems compromised, given the nature of the leaks. Thanks to Sir Scarlin's spies, we've been able to pinpoint a common factor. A high ranking official in the Aestrikan army."

"Woah, woah.. That's quite an accusation, Commander. Aestrikans are our close allies. What solid proof do you have to.."

Cyrian chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh, sometimes I forget the common folk's perception of diplomatic relations..

Of honor, truth and transparency.

I'm not accusing anything, Lady Agrafena. For one, we can't risk damaging the diplomatic ties by making such a thing public. But moreover, we all do the same. Wolkenshire relies for it's security, tremendously on many many agents seeded in the highest administrative levels of all our allies. Some of them are even double agents. No, this isn't about proving culpability. Our only solution is finding the leak, the bad apple at our end."

"And I am to help with this, how?!"

"Well, the official in question is coming to Wolkenshire, in two weeks."

"Oh, you don't mean.."

"Yes, him."

Bellatrix paused for a second. This is the 'Quinquennial Unified Defence Summit' he was talking about. And the official in question, probably General Radislov of North.

"But.. But he's the Chief Delegate. I don't think it's wise planning an operation on the Chief Delegate, especially on the day of the Summit, when he's more than prepared for mental games and negotiations."

"And our probable future King, to make matters worse."

"What?!" Bellatrix jumped off her seat.

"I was just as surprised, Lady Agrafena. But reliable sources tell me, that the renowned General of the North is about to throw in the hat. He'll likely make it public during the Defence Summit.

But he's so..

Bellatrix had a hard time coming to terms with it, given her plans for the same event. For over a month now, ever since Her Highness was spotted smiling at a public event, the official mourning period was understood to be over. Very many in the nobility, both young and old, had tried signalling their interest, showering Her Highness with gifts and garlands, though most remained confused as to how to properly ask the hand of a ruling Queen. Many had waited around for the Queen's reciprocal gesture, though many felt too proud to apply, given that marrying her didn't mean they became

the

King. The spouse of a Ruling Queen, as novel a phenomenon it was, would be a King-Consort. A decorative title for the most part.