********
The gurgling of a man drowning in his own blood was no pleasant sight, but Selena knew that war had a way of one-upping every horror, and by now she had built quite a tolerance.
She whispered an epitaph as she pulled her blade out of the dying soldier's backside and granted mercy, a quick downward stroke through the back of the head.
********
"Retreat!" she roared, mounting her horse.
********
Even the sight and smell of the occasional corpse could not douse the spirits of King Westin I of Galaterra as he watched his men chain up the last of the Haloran soldiers that had laid down their arms.
Focus,
he berated himself, but the fire in his veins could not be quieted.It was not so much the victory itself that stirred him; no, countless triumphs on the field had come before this one, and if his optimism held, only one battle remained before he could deserve the moniker his people had eagerly bestowed upon him:
the Redeemer King.
No, it was not the brilliant military strategist that howled in anticipation, but the primal male within.
He had caught a fleeting glimpse of
her.
Lady Selena Blackburne- now Commander Blackburne of the former state of Haloras- was magnificent. He had bedded countless women, both in his domain and during the five long years of his reclamation- all beautiful, nearly all
more-than-willing
.
But
she
was something different entirely. Selena Blackburne was a vision on the battlefield, a tall, dark-haired warrior goddess with a womanly figure that even a full suit of armor could not conceal. And beneath that exquisite exterior lay a gifted leader and tactician who had met him blow for blow in numerous strategical bouts; despite its small size and population, Haloras had proven far more difficult than any other campaign in his quest. Perhaps more than anything else, her wild, willful spirit was an invitation, a defiant challenge among a sea of pliant, nubile conquests.
And now, two years since he had first laid eyes on the Lady of Haloras, she was his for the taking- in every imaginable way.
********
The usual clamor of men returning from battle was absent, replaced by a grim silence punctured only by the clanking of the city gate lifting and the occasional whinny of the horses.
Selena had not uttered a single word in the two-hour ride back to Kalath, the weight of defeat a sinking stone in her stomach.
The ambush had been a disaster from the outset; not thirty minutes from the moment she gave the order to spring the trap had her battle lines collapsed as the advance infantry and a significant portion of her cavalry that she had sent to flank the Galaterran force were intercepted at the lower Hidden Pass by two cavalry groups led by none other than King Westin Wyndemere himself.
Overall, though her forces had only suffered a few dozen casualties, hundreds more of her warriors were now prisoners of the Galaterran war machine.
And she harbored no illusions about their fate; while Westin I was surprisingly unlike his predecessors in sparing captured men, he was far worse in his treatment of women. Nearly a quarter of her infantry- as well as a good third of her cavalry- were female, and she had no doubt that every single one of them was currently naked and on her knees or back while being brutally violated by at least two Galaterran soldiers at a time letting loose the pent-up lust of battle.
She shook her head. It would not help to think of their suffering; all she could do now was to come up with the best course of action forward. Her father, along with four other Lords Paramount of Galaterra, had rebelled against the previous king, the decadent tyrant Theorin II Wyndemere, and won their ravaged lands a hard-fought freedom. And she would be damned before she saw her people trampled on by that monster's son.
********
Midday had already passed when the gates of Kalath finally came into view- but what awaited Westin could be described as nothing other than a shock.
A single large white flag draped over the wall.
An open gate.
An enraged Commander Selena Blackburne, chained by the wrists and held kneeling by one of her men - and completely nude.
"The city of Kalath surrenders, Your Grace," a silver-haired man declared.
"Who are you?"
"I am Soros Undin, Steward of Kalath, Your Grace," he replied in his even, smooth drone. "Proof of our sincerity."
The soldier holding Selena yanked the chain, and she grunted, forced to stand and bare her figure for all of Westin's men to view.
Immediate hoots and catcalls rose from his ranks, along with screams of
whore
and
bitch
.
Westin's blood boiled- the sight enraged him at the treachery of the Halorans toward their commander, a foe he had very much respected, but also admittedly aroused him. Lady Blackburne was a woman he had craved for so long, and now she stood prostrate before him, bare breasts swaying and head bent in shame.
He raised his left hand, instantly silencing his forces.
"We accept."
********
All Selena could do was wait.
She had expected to be handed over to his men right then and there and raped half a hundred times, or simply outright executed for her years of resistance. Yet King Westin had simply commanded her traitorous men to unchain her and cover her naked form, an unexpectedly courteous gesture from a man who led the most debauched army in the civilized world.
Now she was a prisoner in her own manor, her servants acting under his
personal
supervision. She had eaten a quick meal of bread and stew, bathed, and donned a fresh tunic and pants before being escorted to her bedroom by two Galaterran soldiers.
Thankfully, they had not inspected her or her room-
a mistake
, she thought, her fingers dancing over the tiny dagger concealed in her right boot prepared just for dire situations like this.
The large oak door opened without so much as a warning, giving her no time to conceal her expression of surprise.
She had been prepared for something along the lines of a party of soldiers led by some Galaterran official to force her to sign the surrender; never in a hundred years would she have expected
this.
Standing before her was none other than the man who had plagued her and her country for two long years, dressed in nothing but a pair of trousers and carrying a rounded tourney sword in each hand.
He was young, at most a year or two older than her twenty years, and, as much as she loathed to admit it, the rumors her fellow noblewomen perpetuated were no exaggeration.
King Westin I was exceedingly attractive, his shirtless form exposing broad shoulders and a muscled torso earned from a half-decade spent on the front lines. Selena was tall for a woman, almost of a height with many of her male captains, but the king towered over her by more than half a head. High, angular cheekbones, dancing green eyes, and a mop of short blond hair gave him a youthful charm that contrasted heavily with his hard, battle-seasoned frame.
A jolt of recognition shook her; though she had never seen her enemy counterpart up close to her knowledge, a powerful sense of familiarity racked her brain.
"My lady," he stated as he extended his left arm, offering the practice sword in his hand.
"Pray tell, to what do I owe this pleasure,
Your Majesty
?" Selena gritted, hardly keeping the anger out of her voice, which drew a smirk from him.
"I had hoped we would cross swords once again on the field, but it seems that your men were twice as smart and half as honorable as I had expected."
Rage filled her as she recalled the betrayal of Undin and her captains, but then another thought hit her.
"Again? I don't recall our last encounter," she retorted.
I would have run my sword clean through you on sight.
"You knocked me flat on the ground the last time, and I thought I'd try my luck evening the score," he grinned.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her.
It had been at the start of the war, when she was still a green girl of eighteen. The fall of Orth, a city near the Galaterran border second in value as a trading port only to Kalath itself, had caused hysteria among the Haloran nobility. . She had chosen to lead the scouting party to the outskirts of Orth herself, eager to earn the respect of her men and with nary a thought for the disapproval of her councilors.
They had gathered much of the information they sought- supply lines, army size, occupation methods- and begun the three-hour journey back to Yaravath when they encountered an enemy scouting party roughly the same size, two dozen men strong.
The battle had been particularly bloody and protracted; though the Galaterrans were more experienced warriors, her men were well-suited for forest combat, and she quickly joined the fray only to be singled out by two enemy riders who had chased her into a clearing, and with her horse tiring she had no choice but to turn and fight.
The older of the two had charged recklessly only to receive her sword, a staggering blow that dented his chest plate and knocked him clean off his mount. His partner, on the other hand, a handsome blond youth of no more than twenty, was far more skilled. It had come down to a duel on foot, and though her sword skill matched or even exceeded his, he was far larger and stronger, and eventually he had her sprawled on her back, her armor useless against an inevitable sword through the neck.
"What is your name, swordsman?" he had asked, only to be stunned into silence as she removed her helm, revealing her unmistakably feminine features.
"Selena Blackburne," she had replied before kicking his feet out from under him.
By the time the fight had truly ended, only she and three of her men were left of the Halorans; a dozen been slain and the rest taken prisoner by the superior Galaterran force that had only lost five men, and had it not been for the timely arrival of those three, she would have been taken as well- and all that ensued for a female soldier captured by the Galaterrans.
That night, she had dreamt of the battle, of the fate that she had so narrowly avoided.
She dreamt of the blond knight who had spared her, wearing a feral look on his boyish features as he carried her chained, defeated form back to his camp.
She dreamt of him on top of her, spearing her virginal body with his cock as his comrades watched and cheered.
