Battle of the Heart

Author's Note: Hello all, this is my first try at a different time piece of writing. Unlike my other story, this one starts off slowish and focuses more on the plot. But all the good stuff is also still wedged in there :)

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Two soldiers stood on the side of her, one to her left and the other on her right. She sat frozen in the iron chair. A dark cloak covered her body with a hood over her head. She began to tease the fabric on her lap. She felt like a child waiting outside a principal's office because of her misconduct. Her anxiety increasing with every second she sat waiting for her fate. A door creaked open, painfully slowly. She could tell who it was since the soldiers had straightened up. Even they knew how to act when h was in the room. Her heart pounded rapidly. The reputation of the king was nothing but madness and bloodshed. Rumors living within the village constructed a gruesome figure of the man.

Some say that he was bred from a witch and a demon fathered him. Others say he was a vengeful foreigner who was cast out because his blood-lust knew no bounds. That when he rushed into battle, with every man he killed, he took a piece of him. To later be eaten by him or his hounds. Her hands clutched the fabric on her leg.

What would be my ending?

This thought constantly played in her head on a continuous loop. "My king, we've brought the priestess as you requested," the soldier to her left responded. There was nothing in reply, just silence. She swallowed hard as she heard footsteps coming towards. Big weighted footsteps. With her mind beginning to race, she could almost guess they were hooves. Her anxiety began to take over. The footsteps stopped just about a foot from her. She could see the army issued boots from under her guise.

"Ahh." She screeched as the soldier gripped the back of her neck through the cloak. He positioned her head upwards. She now could see more of the frightening king, about up to his waist. He was tall with thick thighs. His breeches clung tightly against them. The king motioned for him to remove her hood. The soldier began to move it back, white curls falling out of its containment. The young beauty's face was now fully revealed to her captors. She swallowed hard and slowly began to gaze at the rest of his body.

He had a broad core. The structure of his abdomen looked like it was carved from stone. His abs were well defined and on his smooth chest she could see faint scars. Probably from war. A fresh indication of battle lay on the right side of his ribs, bandages recovering a gash. Maybe he was human after all. The last of his features were oddly compelling. His face was very boyish and familiar. His dark eyes cold as a lion's with a black mane to match. She now had full view of the king, the monster, her captor.

He stepped forward, she countered with moving back in her chair. She had never been so frightened of a person. The rumors about him had filled her with doubts and remorse of her current behavior and "wrong doings". The back of the iron chair met her spine signally she had nowhere else to go. His finger latched on to her chin to lift her face to him. "This is her?" His dark voice sent chills through the air.

"Yes, this is the priestess who all the women were flocking to," the soldier responded, "the witch who has put a spell on the women." The last part the soldier spat. She could tell many of the men weren't fond of her. She knew he specially wasn't fond of her by the way he handled her while she was being dragged from the temple and escorted to the king's compound.

"Septa" his voice softened, his thumb caressing the small of her cheek. Her eyes began to focus as he spoke her name in her native language emphasis. Most people said her name contorting the last syllable with a "tay". The king had spoken it to her with a "tuh". He knew who she was, but she could not remember her. She, as well as his men, were astounded by the small act of kindness he had exemplified. After keeping his gaze with her for a moment, he retreated his hand and stepped back a few paces.

"Leave us," he ordered.

"My king, I do not think it wise to be left with the likes of her." The soldier's eyes looked down upon Septa with a snarl.

"I don't think I asked for your opinion." A crazed look appearing on the king's face. The men knew it was wise to follow what he wished. The soldier unhandled her and moved to the door with the other. After a small bow they were gone.

"It's been a long time," he spoke softly, again she felt odd at his words "do you remember me?" The king that was portrayed to her was wicked and dastardly. How could someone so wicked speak her name with such tenderness? "I asked you a question." Sternness now apparent in his voice. Septa straightened up in her seat and looked onward at the king. She gazed, taking in his features, but could not place where they met. She nodded to indicate her confusion as to how they knew each other. A frown shifted to his mouth. A gentle nod and he turned away from her. Had she bruised his ego? What could it mean for her? He began to pour water into a glass from a pitcher.

"How could you forget?" His speech was punctuated as he stopped pouring the water. He held it in his hand, swishing it around before stepping closer to her again. She looked away from him hoping that she did not offend him. He stopped an inch away from her. She could feel the heat from his body. He squatted down, his face a little lower than hers. The king extended the water towards her. Septa gladly took it and looked at him for the kind gesture. Their eyes locked again but this time more intensely. She began to get lost in his eyes. The familiarity came back once again. She knew this man but could not place him. The king reached to his hair and held it up in a ponytail. A small smirk formed on his lips.

Septa gasped as she dropped the glass of water. He caught it just before it was about to hit the tiled floor. "C-Caspian," she murmured, as her eyes began to swell with tears. The king released his hair and nodded in confirmation. Septa reaches out to embrace him. The king clutched her small form. Taking in her scent of desert lilies. She always smelled like desert lilies, even when they were kids. He combed his hands through her shoulder length hair. Now white, when they had first met as children it had been as dark as his. He placed his hands on the small of her back. Septa clutched him tighter, the memories of her childhood friend upon her.

"Septa," his breath tingled her ear, "you have to reroute the women back to their homes. They have husbands that need them."

"That beat them," she corrected as she pushed at his chest "they need to be protected." The king was caught off guard for a moment. A small chuckle slipped from his lips. His memory of her served true. Passionate in every service she took. The king rose to his feet, her golden eyes still set on him.

"I can't run a kingdom with a divide down the middle," he said, taking a sip of the water.

"Without women there would be no kingdom," she spoke eloquently, "maybe you need someone that can help you dictate to solve problems amongst the citizens." She rose to her feet. A new-found confidence emerged in her as she thought of her new position as advisor to the king.

"Perhaps so..." he finished the water with one last gulp. Placing it back on the table, he began to go for the door. He took one last look at her. "Dinner will be served soon." With that the door closed behind him.

She reached to him just as the door closed. She stepped hesitantly to the door. Each step brought her closer to the unknown. She took a chance and reached for the door. Locked. Although they were friends, she still was his captive. Septa looked around the room, barren, and the old iron chair accompanied by a barred window. She signed and sat in front of the window. The trickles of sunlight freckling her face. Without the company of another person, her meditation offered refuge from her racing thoughts. She ventured deep within her own mind finding remnants of her childhood. She remembered playing on the cobbled streets of her village, no more than 10 years old. She had snuck out from under the supervision of her nannies. She found comfort from her friend, Caspian. Just a year older than herself, he was a stringbean of a boy. Long thin limbs extending from his torso. Much less of a man than he was now. His father served as the hand to her father, the King of Core. So naturally, they had grown fond of each other.

Tiny pats at the door extracted her from her memories. Septa rose from her sitting position and attended to the call. A young handmaiden curtsied just beyond the door. "The king wishes for you to attend dinner with him." she spoke, face still directed towards the wooden floor.

"Tell C- the king if he wants me to attend his dinner then he should get me himself." She had to remember how to properly address him. To others he was their king but to her he was a childhood friend. This balance would be important to her stay at the compound. Septa turned to leave but the maiden had reached out for her hand.

"It's not wise to anger him," she said, with fear in her voice, "please come down." It was clear that the young girl had seen a side of him that was known throughout the region. The pleading from the woman softened her rebelliousness. She went calmly down the corridor, the handmaiden leading the way. A full staircase led the way to the first floor. Septa's skirt dragged lazily from step to step as they descended. There, an open space served as dining room. It was vast yet held an intimacy about it. The room had gaping windows at the tops of the wall. A solid table within the middle covered with a red cloth and dishware. Caspian sat at the head of the table. Much to her relief, no one else was to dine with them that night. Septa took a few steps forward before he halted her with his hand.

"No cloaks at the table." A sly smile gave away his sincere tone. Septa slid the cloak from her shoulders. Underneath, she wore a tan long skirt with a white top. The white shirt stopped just above her navel. Caspian looked at her attentively. The girl he knew had grown into a vibrant young woman. She was once shaped like a board used to cut fruits and vegetables. But now it looked like that board had been carved by a craftsman's hands to unveil a marvelous sculpture. She was wide-hipped with a small waist. Her breast was bound by her white shirt but the imprint of her dark nipples were still apparent. It was common that priestesses in the region would choose to wear little to acclaim service to their higher powers. However, no one knew that her birthright required her to exemplify more modesty, no-one but him that is.

Satisfied with her compliance, he waved for her to sit. He patted the seat right next to him. Septa took cautious glances as she closed the distance between them. Placing herself in the seat she looked on to him. The king waved the handmaiden off to fetch their meal, in which she scurried away. She returned to the space with bowls of food: lamb, rice, and bread. A little juice from the meat saturated the bottom of the bowl. She cautiously placed them on the table before retreating into the safety of the kitchen.

They began to eat in silence. Septa was unsure how to address him, so she was unsure if she should wait to be spoken to. Caspian was a dear childhood friend, but the king was an unknown foreigner. She pondered , stirring her stew with her finger. The temperature of the stew nipped at her fingers. "Use your fork." He slid the utensil towards her. She looked at it, surprised by his gesture.

"It tastes better and is more appreciated when it is eaten with the hands," she spoke tentatively "or did you forget that?" He was referring to the common practice of their native region. Food was to be eaten with the hands as a sign of gratitude and humbleness. Septa was finding her bearings. How far could she push him? Did their previous bond have an effect on how he treated her versus everyone else? She averted her eyes once he looked up from his meal.

"You'll need to get accustomed to this culture if you are going to serve in order to fix the problem." He referred to the divide between the women and men in the kingdom. She clutched the fork in hand after licking the stew from her finger. It tasted heavenly against her tongue. He watched, taking in every moment her tongue darted out lick the oily flavored broth.

She noticed his observation and spoke between bites "So... when will I begin as your advisor?" He snickered, wiping his face with a nearby cloth. He reached out to brush a piece of hair from face.

"You will serve as my queen, not my advisor." He traced over her lips as he spoke. She shifted backward. Her eyes were a mixture of confusion and frustration. The king began to frown at her response.

Septa pushed the meal from in front of her. "I won't." Her words furrowed his brow.

"Eat your food." His tone harsh and full of venom "we'll discuss this later." The king went back to his meal. Did he really expect her to take the news well and so all of a sudden?

"I'm not hungry." Septa looked away from the plate. Unaware that he had risen to his feet and was hovering over her. The sound of his voice to her ear made hairs on her neck stand up.

"You will eat," he scooted the food closer to her. "You will be MY queen." His fingers guided her chin towards him. They were almost nose to nose. His piercing dark eyes gazed into her soul. She was unsure what caused this trigger within him. He was tender just hours and even moments before. She continued to push her luck.

"And if I refuse..." Septa's confidence in their old friendship began to waver. The young boy she knew was a hardened man with fury in his eyes.

Effortlessly he gathered her in his arms. She was hoisted over his shoulders. Septa began to pound against his muscular back. He had prevented her from kicking due to his arm securing her legs. He walked calmly as if a woman wasn't frantically pummeling him for her freedom. The staff nestled in the kitchen clearly hearing the verbal assaults being hurled at him. Now past the stairs, he walked onward, passing the room which she had been in first. A right, left and another right and they found themselves at the beginning of a long hall. At the end was a single door. When he approached, he swung it open to reveal his room. A reflection of his grand status, his room was over the top.

The walls were draped with fine tapestry, most telling snippets of battles. A single desk made out of bronze was to his right side. On the other side of that, there was a door to the bathroom. His bed lay deeper into the room. He kicked the door closed and proceeded to the bed. He threw her on the giant mattress. Her body moulded into its comfy texture. It took Septa a while to orient back to her settings. She was flustered to say the least. He stood to the side of her and began to sheer his form from the shirt. "There's no refusal," he remarked as his shirt hit the floor of the room. "If you comply, you may keep your temple and guide the people to a better understanding between the sexes." His hands began to work on the tie to his pants "if you don't... I'll burn the temple down with the women in it." There was the dark demeanor that surrounded the rumors. He shed the last of his clothing. He grasped the member in his hand, stroking it to life.

"Hurting you will give me no pleasure Septa." She watched in horror as it began to become stiff and veiny "but you will be mine." He placed his knee on the bed, edging closer to her. Septa froze with fear. He was now wedged between her legs, edging her skirt up as he shifted forward. Tears began to swell in her eyes. He wouldn't force himself on her, would he? Caspian's gaze softened as he touched the tears from her face. In his mind this was inevitable. They were betrothed once upon a time. A long time ago but the anticipation of it was still evident in his heart. Regardless of his animalistic nature, he cared about her comfort.

She sniffled, fighting back tears. Septa was privy to the nature of men, but this was something new to her. Caspian backed away from the petrified woman. He walked to the door, much to her relief. Septa turned to bury her face in her hands and began to wail. He clutched the handle of door. "I will give you time to collect yourself." He exited the room, the door shutting behind him. Once she was sure that he had left the room she rose to a sitting position. Septa had always been a confident woman,knowing when to speak and when to act. She was very patient in her ways, but this was beyond her. Clearing her eyes from the mist of tears, she sorted out her options. Comply and steer the kingdom in her liking as queen. Or fight back having the blood of her maidens on her hands and still be queen. It was obvious what she should do but doing it was unthinkable.

Caspian had changed. Which was once a soft caring boy was now a callous calculating man. But did he not care for her? After all he had discontinued his venture for her comfort. She was left puzzled. Regardless she had to deal with the here and now. She was captive to him. Her compliance was vital to her survival. Septa fiddled with the hem of her skirt, shifting it down revealing her thin thighs, bare and shaking. Her vulva was hairless and naked for the world to see. Next her shirt, holding the bottom and beginning to shift it upward. As it moved further up her abdomen her protests grew. She quickly reverted it back to its original form. She couldn't bear to be completely vulnerable to him. He only needed the bottom half of her after all, right.

The handle to the door began to twist and her mind went blank again. He appeared in the door frame once again. His shaft visibly pointing, as if it was targeting her. He closed the door quietly behind himself before stepping forward. The sight of her bare lower half brought a smile to his face. She had decided. He walked slowly towards her, placing himself on the side of her. He decided to go slow with her. What he thought as a natural occurrence for him was something new to her. He had known her since they were children and wanted her since they were teenagers. His hand began caressing the small of her stomach. He found himself nibbling at her neck, his tongue circulating the area. Septa fought back a slight moan. Although she was up in the air about this, she gladly gave her neck to him to sample.

His hand ran from her stomach to the crease where her legs collided together. She clinched them more. He smiled against the flesh of her neck. He didn't need her legs to give him access to her slit. He slithered into the fold with ease. Her legs trying to tighten to cease his invasion. "Your strategy was foolish." His words tickled against her skin. She had unwittingly given him access to the source of pleasure, her clit. His digits massaged the tender bud.

Septa wiggled as the roughness of his finger touched against her slick bud. Septa's cheeks caught a red hue, her body tingling from his actions. Her tongue darted to wet his lips.

Was this really happening?

She thought as his hands went to work on her body. His hand snaked around her, guiding her chin towards him. It was those eyes that held her captive once they met. He leaned forward, placing a small kiss on her lips. She could still taste the stew from their meal on them. She barely parted her lips as they kissed again. Figuring the more reluctant she seemed, the harder this was going to be. He could sense her hesitation, using his fingers he pinched the sensitive bud. She yelped and gave him access to her mouth. His tongue explored her mouth. Gliding his tongue against hers, they began to mix. Instinct began to kick in, Septa began sucking tentatively on his tongue. The seductive act caught Caspian off guard. A surprise tactic from his squeamish opponent. His manhood twitched in response.