Daughter of the Sun

IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS...

Captured during a raid in the forest of Tharsis, a shaman of Gloomdor reveals to Queen Alexandra of Heath Hill and to her lover, the High Priestess Ysenia, about the threatening doom which hangs over the Queen herself; the Night Lord, an evil, supernatural being, is gathering His forces to capture her city and turn her into one of His slaves.

In the meanwhile, in the south, Princess Eluan has reached the court of Duchess Sung in Hadun, to deliver her the letter written by her sister, Queen Hailey, containing the ask to bring her army to the capitol city of Syfall, to prepare the defense against the threat of the Night Lord. The content of the letter was meant to be secret, however Eluan is unaware how two knights of her escort, Lydia and Nicole, have revealed, without knowing themselves, the content of the letter to a mysterious seer named Yarwen and to her lover, who is nobody else than Lothar Reeves, the exiled knight who, years before, was to the point to marry none else than Hailey herself...

https://literotica.com/s/daugther-of-the-sun-ch-09

https://literotica.com/s/daughter-of-the-sun-ch-13

***

"Alanor, my dear and beloved sister," with these words began the letter that Queen Alexandra of Heath Hill was scribbling in an elegant handwriting on the parchment spread out on the large walnut table before her. "A grave threat hangs over us, now more than ever. We have had concrete warnings about the fact that the barbarian forces of Gloomdor have awakened en masse in the south, on the other side of the peaks, beyond the forest of Tharsis, and they now pose a deadly danger to our Kingdom and to all of our people."

The redhead, fair-skinned, beautiful Sovereign was sitting inside the large entering hall of the Royal Palace Library, an elegant environment located on the third floor of the Palace, with a floor of polished wooden boards and whose stone walls were magnificently frescoed with detailed maps of all the Northern territories of Mur and with painted scenes coming from the mythology and from the ancient history of Heath Hill.

Even though Alexandra had never been a scholar nor an avid reader, that was the place that most of any other reminded her of her beloved younger sister, the place where more than anywhere else she seemed to still perceive her comforting and loving presence.

When she was a little girl, that was the place within the Palace where Alanor loved the most to pass her time, spending even entire days by browsing among the tall and imposing wooden shelves, lined up like many soldiers standing at attention, exploring the most remote alleys of the Library in search of old scrolls and ancient, dusty tomes, which she could greedily devour within uninterrupted hours of reading.

It was there that, thirteen years ago, Alanor had spontaneously discovered her natural predisposition for magic, and it was also there where she had educated herself, learning on her own the first fundamental principles of the arcane arts and how to put them to practice, with the only support of her lively intellect and of her burning passion for that fascinating and mysterious subject.

Alexandra had always felt for her younger sister a deep feeling of love, combined together with a strong instinct of protection without equal, almost maternal in a sense. When Alexandra was just a young woman of eighteen, their mother, Queen Alena, had abdicated due to the sudden deterioration of a serious illness, deciding to retire within the walls of a remote castle in the north, close to the borders with the Hurlands, leaving in this way the responsibility of the throne and of the cure of her little sister to her eldest daughter. It was therefore no coincidence that, since Alanor had been sent by Alexandra as ambassador to the court of Troygrove, now three years ago, the Queen of Heath Hill had decided to move her personal scriptorium to the entrance hall of the Library.

In a few, concise words, the Queen proceeded to narrate on the parchment the alarming events that had occurred in the previous days; the terrible, vile and bloody assault conducted by the savage women of Gloomdor against the poor and defenseless village of Fyr within the depths of the Forest of Tharsis, the massacre of its inhabitants, the first clash with her soldiers among the still smoking ruins of those huts, the capture of one of their shamans and the account of her subsequent interrogation, conducted personally by Ysenia and herself, in the deep undergrounds of the Palace.

The thought of that disturbing, wild beauty had never left her during all the days to come. The memory of that splendid naked body, shaking and contracting in the spasms of a terrible, unnatural pleasure, the chains that bound her to the wall stretching until almost the point of break due to the tremendous force, the screams emitted by her deep, sensual and commanding voice, had remained deeply imprinted in her psyche.

But above all, her mind had remained impressed by her eyes, yellow, feral like those of a wolf, in which she had lost herself as if enchanted, while the soft and full lips of the shaman had pronounced words full of threat over her, predicting a future of submission, conversion and slavery to the advancing and unstoppable forces of Darkness.

"In the final throes of her madness, the shaman has revealed the name of the one who is massing the armies of Gloomdor, to send them against us," she began to write again, as her body unconsciously tensed and her wrist began to tremble. "The name she has used is," she hesitated a moment before writing the words on the parchment with a shaking hand, "M'laal Azul."

She was forced to put the quill back in the inkwell for a moment, while she was overcome by a terrible dizziness and her heartbeat accelerated tremendously in her chest, the muscles between her thighs involuntarily contracting in a wet spasm.

Those cursed words were like a damned trigger, capable of making her sexual arousal surge and reach its peak in an instant. For days she had not dared to pronounce that dark name even in a low voice, remembering how those words, coming out of her lips, had been enough to provoke a terrifying orgasm in her, on that night when she had gone naked to the terrace of the Palace, an event that had left her terribly restless, making her feel exposed, vulnerable to the action of some mysterious and evil force.

With each passing day she was feeling more and more dizzy and exhausted, without strength and energy; since her encounter with the shaman of Gloomdor, Alexandra had not been able to rest at night without her sleep being disturbed every single time by terrible and powerful erotic nightmares. Every time she woke up with a start in the middle of the night, naked in her bed, shocked and trembling, her lean body completely covered in sweat, after having had her mind invaded by the most obscene, grotesque and horrifying visions.

In such dreams, she often found herself in the midst of immense orgies between wild women, with dark skins painted in stripes, in the middle of a desolate rock plain, surrounded by high inaccessible peaks. Herself was mentally reduced to a primitive woman like those around her, turned into an animalistic being dominated only by her lowest and primal instincts, completely forgetful of her past, of her own name and of her previous identity as Queen, while she wriggled naked, dancing madly around a huge, roaring bonfire, stamping her feet hard on the rocky ground, screaming and howling to the nocturnal sky together with all the other females of her tribe like a pack of wild wolves, before throwing themselves upon each other, prey to a mad, uncontrollable desire, forming piles and heaps of naked bodies all around, giving themselves over to the most violent and unbridled sex, the night air filling with their screams of obscene and triumphant pleasure.

Other times those nightmares were even more disturbing; she saw images of herself dominated and carnally possessed by monstrous and aberrant beings, alien creatures similar to disgusting insects, originating from some deep infernal dimension, their strange protuberances and their slimy tentacles that twisted around her arms and thighs, insinuating themselves subtly into her openings, deep into her body.

In her mind, Alexandra screamed at the top of her lungs, terrified, trying in vain to free herself with all her strength from that slimy and repulsive grip. But those creatures had large eyes, pulsating and luminous bulbs placed at the end of long flexible antennae full of bristles, dangerous eyes, able to hypnotize instantly with their flashes. As soon as she seemed to be on the verge of freeing herself from their tentacles, the creatures would put their eyes in front of hers, thwarting her efforts, instantly nullifying her will to escape and mentally subjugating her to their dominion.

Reduced to slavery, she could do nothing but submit completely. In her nightmare, Alexandra still screamed, but no longer in terror. They were pure screams of pleasure that escaped her throat, while the penetrating organs and tentacles of those creatures made her orgasm obscenely, immensely, harder than Ysenia and any other of her human lovers had ever been able to do in her entire life.

And every time she awoke from these nightmares, it was impossible for her to return back to sleep, her body and mind too much excited, too much aroused by an uncontrollable, almost bestial, desire for sex.Alexandra found herself forced, against her will, to spend the remaining hours of the night masturbating furiously, clutching a pillow between her thighs and rubbing vigorously against it, or fingering herself with both hands, in a vain attempt to somehow relieve the burning tension in her body.

Only near dawn, after having came several times and having soaked the sheets with her feminine juices, she could fall back into a light sleep, which however usually did not last more than an hour. In the morning she would wake up weaker and more exhausted than when she had gone to bed the night before.

She had thought of asking Ysenia for help, as she could have easily prepared for her some potion that would have helped her sleep, but she was reluctant to do so. Boldly, she had lied to the High Priestess of Shadora days before, declaring how she was not at all impressed by the dark prophetic words and threats that the shaman had addressed to her, and she did not want her to know how deeply they had actually affected her. Above all, knowing full well what kind of remedy the Priestess would have proposed...a remedy no better than the very nightmares that were plaguing her.

Not without difficulty, Alexandra tried her best to bring her concentration back again on the letter.

"Please, immediately inform Her Majesty Artemis about the danger that menaces not only Heath Hill, but all of the lands of the North, so that our armies may unite to face together this common threat," she continued writing, once she had regained at least a minimum of her self-control. "A similar letter has also been sent by me to the Queens Therin of Lothorel and Ismealda of Paramar."

"As for you, I'm asking you to return to Heath Hill as soon as possible. I feel more than ever the need to have you by my side in this critical moment, as an expert and wise magician and, even more, as a loved sister. Please, come back soon.

Your beloved,

Alexandra"

Once the ink had dried on the surface, she carefully put the parchment in a wrapping, before letting a drop of sealing wax, melted by a candle flame, to fall onto it, and imprinting her Royal Seal, a bull's head surmounted by a crown.

Having finished sealing the envelope, she rang a small silver bell that she was keeping on the desk, beside her. At that agreed sound, the elegant double wooden doors of the Library swung open, and a tall man, his face adorned with a thick red beard, dressed in military attire and with a coat of chainmail covering his broad chest, stepped into the room.

Sir Duncan Daramore was the Lord Commander of Heath Hill's army, one of her most loyal men and one of her most trusted advisors. He had been her right-hand man since the times of the last war against Troygrove, seven years before, and he had been an eyewitness to the historic duel in which Alexandra had ended the life of her rival, Queen Mareen, in the rushing, knee-deep waters of the Skavos River.

"This is the last letter," she said, handing him the sealed envelope. "Entrust it to your fastest courier, with the order to deliver it as quickly as possible to my sister Alanor, at the Royal Palace of Troygrove."

"It will be done, Your Majesty," Sir Duncan replied with his powerful voice, taking the letter in his leather-gloved hand. "In the meantime, I am pleased to inform you that preparations for the mobilization of our army are now almost complete. Within two days we shall be in the position to march southward, as you have commanded."

Alexandra nodded her head in approval, satisfied at hearing such news. As per her habit and temperament, she had decided to be the first to act, and advance toward the enemy rather than remain inert, entrenched behind the walls, waiting for them to arrive and put them under siege. Therefore, she had decided to have her army stationed just outside the borders of the Tharsis forest, to nip in the bud any attempt of incursion into the Kingdom's territory that might come from the south.

But before leaving at the head of her army, there remained the thorny question of the so-called "ceremony of consecration" to which Ysenia intended to subject her, in order to, according to her, guarantee her in this way the favor and protection of the Divinity.

Whitin her, the Queen cursed herself once again for having made such a foolish promise to Ysenia, in that moment of confusion and weakness she had found herself in, following the shaman's interrogation. Now her word of honor would have bounded her to attend the Great Sacred Orgy that the High Priestess had been planning in great detail since days, and which was drawing ever closer.

"An exceptionally sized one," Ysenia had told her that night, picturing the event, "with at least two-hundred women in their fertile period, and an almost equal number of men, all kept under strict abstinence for at least one week and drugged with the Angel of Fire. It may take a while to organize and to gather all the people and the material we would need. But the final outcome would be remarkable indeed."

In her life, Alexandra had already experimented with group sex, to her great delight. When, still a young Princess, she had lived for a time at the court of Lothorel, her group of hunting companions had also become her personal circle of intimate lovers. With them, she had often enjoyed, far from everything and everyone, free and naked in the isolated depths of the forest, celebrating together around a fire, through the pleasures of the body, the success of a day's hunting.

But that was something very different from the dark and disturbing orgies that were celebrated in the Temple of Shadora. That was a goliardic, playful sex, naturally induced by their youthful exuberance and the sense of community that bound them. And, above all, it was between women only.

There would have been instead numerous men, in that immense carnage that Ysenia was preparing, who in the excitement and enthusiasm of the moment would certainly not have been kind and tender. In addition, they would have been under the influence of drugs. Alexandra herself would also have been drugged, with the Angel of Fire, a terrible compound capable of inducing a sexual frenzy that could last for hours. The Queen greatly feared for the condition in which she would have emerged from that ordeal.

Sir Duncan must have noticed the look of dark concern that had suddenly appeared on the Queen's face, and he tried his best to offer at least some reassuring words.

"You will have nothing to worry about, Your Majesty," he said, obiouvsly misinterpreting the real reason behind her distress. "As soon as those dirty savages will stick their ugly faces out from the treelines, we will make them want to run back to their cursed lands, beyond their bloody mountains, as fast as if they had demons on their heels. My battle axe can't wait to stick into their flesh, crush their bones and make their blood spurt out like a fountain."

To further emphasize his words, his fingers drummed on the handle of the sharpened battle axe that hung at his belt. It was his weapon of choice, which he wielded with terrifying effectiveness in battle, wreaking havoc and devastation on the ranks of his enemies with his might blows.

The Queen was about to reply to his words, when a thunderous roar, a cheering noise of an enthusiastic crowd came from one of the open windows of the Library. Intrigued and at the same time annoyed by such a racket, Alexandra rose from her seat and, flanked by the faithful Sir Duncan, headed towards the window, looking out from the stone sill.

From the top of the third floor from where they were standing, it was possible to glimpse, a little further down and at a short distance from them, the Sacred Way, the great stone-paved road that from the south-western gate of the city climbed up the hill on which the city stood, until it reached the Great Temple of Shadora, located at its very summit.

Between two wings of cheering crowd, a small, festive procession was proceeding. At the head of the procession were about ten young men with slender, athletic bodies, completely naked except for their open sandals whose laces were intertwined around their calves, who flaunted their considerable erections to the public view without the slightest sense of embarrassment or modesty, on the contrary, openly inviting and encouraging the women standing in the crowd to reach out and touch them.

With some disgust, Alexandra did not fail to observe the over-excited reactions of the many women in the crowd, whether they were young or old. Between aroused squeals and giggles, they reached out to touch with their hands those bodies, to appreciate their smooth skin and solid muscles under their palms, caressing with their fingertips those smooth and slender but powerful arms, chest, thighs, abs. The most daring and excited ones did not hesitate a second to take those imposing beaks in their hands, giving them a few quick, lovingly caresses, or even pushing themselves to the point of bending down to kiss them or take these cocks in their mouths for a few brief moments, being scolded immediately afterward, or sometimes even receiving a slap in the face, by the jealous husbands present.

But there was also something to highly excite the lust of the males. Right behind those young men, came a dozen of beautiful girls, dressed only in short, inconsistent, semi-transparent veils wrapped around them, who advanced along the street, dancing barefoot, swinging provocatively their slender bodies, throwing flower petals to the people from large baskets they were carrying in their arms, and singing hymns of praise to the Goddess with their high and melodious voices.

The girls were leading by the reins a large and muscular white bull, which advanced docilely between the two wings of the crowd, calm and gentle as a lamb; it was the animal sacred to Shadora and symbol of the city of Heath Hill itself, whose head appeared on the flags and on the seal of the Queen herself.

Sitting, or rather half-laying on the great animal's back, another beautiful girl, this one completely and shamelessly nude, except for the crown of vine leaves that she wore around her blonde head, blew kisses full of love to the onlookers, inciting with a loud voice and wide gestures of her beautiful bare arms enthusiastic shouts of exultation from the people.