Warning: This is a very dark story containing many disturbing themes such as noncon, humiliation, degradation, corruption, sexual slavery, misogyny, sadomasochism and more. Do not read this story unless you are okay with extreme content relating to the listed themes.
I do not condone or endorse any of the activities described in this story. Sexual fantasies can be a fun and safe way to explore fetishes but always treat real people with respect. Fantasize responsibly. ^^
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Dread was ten years old. He traveled with his father to the Golden Lands and was awed at the abundance of natural beauty. The greenest grass, the bluest skies, and golden rays of the warmest sun. The Golden Lands acted as a contrast in his young mind to the grim, bleak atmosphere of the Dark Lands.
He sat at his father's side at a feast as his old man, ever gregarious and optimistic, bonded and grew close with King Anthony. Dread liked the golden king at first with his hair like wheat and his warm grey eyes. He laughed along with his mother and father when the foreign king told a joke and listened eagerly as Anthony regaled them with tales of bright potential futures where their nations worked hand in hand. Anthony even suggested a union through marriage between Dread and any future daughters.
He remembered hugging his father goodbye as his old man set out to join forces with Anthony and fight off a bandit rebellion. Mother went with father, of course, they were inseparable. Dread didn't understand at the time but he felt such intense worry at his parent's departure. Trepidation sank into Dread as if something tragic were certain to happen. His father laughed, ruffled his hair, and assured him everything would be just fine. After all, his father, King Darkhand, would be traveling with King Anthony.
His parents never came home. He never recovered the corpses and the Dark Lands army never returned either. The army of black-armored soldiers and his parents had vanished into ether. He learned over time, through whispers confirmed by first hand accounts, that his father had been stabbed in the back. Dread was twelve when he received the report of how exactly it went down.
His parents had been dining in King Anthony's camp when King Darkhand seized up into spasms. Poison. A coward's tool. Rumor said his father begged for his life at the end but Dread never believed it. His father might have been weak and prone to kindness but he would die silently, with honor, before lowering himself to begging. His father had never been the most impressive mage but, like all Dark Lands monarchs, he had some affinity for dark magic. Anthony had been afraid of his father on some level to resort to poison.
More ghastly news arrived in time. Tales that King Anthony had his man's fun with Queen Amelia of the Dark Lands right next to the cold body of Kind Darkhand. At first, Dread dismissed those rumors as wild speculation, but he'd confirmed them eventually. Serving people like to talk, especially when the word is shocking and salacious. After Anthony raped Dread's mother, he broke her neck. She'd always been kind. Mother had often rescued injured critters and nursed them back to health.
The Dark Lands army had been murdered in their sleep. Impaled with gleaming golden steel. Most of their lands had been seized by King Anthony, leaving only the most desolate stretches of cursed earth for young Dread.
The courtesans, ass-kissing nobles, and court folk left the Damned Citadel first. They said nothing, simply slipped away in the night like sailors leaping from a sinking ship. The servants and help left next. Before long, Dread found himself alone in the fortress where he grew up. He learned to fend for himself and found solace in dark magic. He learned from his father's mistakes and immersed himself in evil. He swore he would never trust a Golden Lands royal. He entered into an alliance with the Daughters of Shadow and received their most promising assassin as his shade.
Viyana brought Dread out of his reverie with a gentle kiss on his cheek. "You look troubled, master."
Dread easily banished the despair of his past. He'd grown adept at forgetting those long lonely years in an empty citadel with only ghosts for company. "Never worry, my pet," he said. He patted Viyana's head, enjoying the play of her raven-black hair beneath his fingers.
They were waiting in the Dark Lands camp outside of the Silken City. His ragtag force of criminals and scum were much louder than other war camps he'd attended, but he didn't mind. They reflected the raw chaos he'd embraced.
Word from King Anthony was late in coming. He'd expected another missive around dawn but hours had since passed. Maybe they would never send word at all. Surely, King Anthony knew the signs of betrayal. He'd betrayed so many himself.
Dread spurred his crystal ball to life with a stroke of a finger and an image filled the crystalline sphere. His brand on Princess Aelodi still held strong.
He had a view into the private royal quarters of King Anthony. Princess Aelodi sat on an ottoman, eyes hollow and distant. Two girls comforted her by stroking her hair and massaging her shoulders. King Anthony's other daughters and princesses of the Golden Lands both.
Princess Aelodi was the king's eldest daughter at twenty. Princess Nera, his middle daughter at nineteen, brushed Aelodi's white blonde hair. Princess Nera possessed rich brown hair like cocoa mixed with milk. Her striking ice blue eyes were alert and observant. She was tremendously pretty and said to be a fencing prodigy. She'd won numerous fencing tournaments and her skill outstripped many people her senior. As of yet, Nera had taken no position in the king's court, preferring to train her body and her skill with the rapier.
Gently massaging Aelodi's shoulders, the king's youngest daughter Princess Myla sang a lovely tune with a melodic and mesmerizing voice. At eighteen, she was already said to be an envied and masterful musician who performed for full theaters in the middle district of the Silken City. Pink hair the color of pale roses flowed beautifully down her slim form. Her bright emerald eyes shone with emotion, perhaps empathy. The slip of a girl seemed quite sad for her older sister. Rumor said she was not a fighter and disinterested in politics, rather devoting herself to the art of music.
Anthony knelt in front of his eldest daughter. He stroked her cheek and the girl recoiled. The king attempted to wear a gentle, loving face, but beneath the mask his features were grim. His eyes were lined and puffy with heavy bags. "Aelodi. It's time. We need to meet with them once more."
"Do I really need to come?" Aelodi asked.
"Father," Myla said. "I think it's best Aelodi stay here, with us."
"I can protect her," Nera said.
A woman stood in the background, staring out a window, and she tisked sharply at her daughters words. Her face was obscured, but by her fine dress and cloak, Dread identified her as Anthony's wife.
Anthony shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I need her. She forged a deal with Wreven and we need her to reinforce the terms, no matter how much I dislike the price we paid."
Aelodi nodded, and despite being shaken by the events of the previous night, she made a brave face. Her eyes snapped into focus and her fuckable lips drew into a line. She accepted her father's hand and rose.
Dread released the crystal ball and the lively image faded to empty glass. He shrugged into his black cloak, and fought down the excitement in his stomach. His feet had just planted the first steps on his road of revenge and he'd never felt more engaged and alive.
Before long, another missive arrived, summoning Dread, and he set out for the Silken City's Golden Palace.
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Dread sat at the grand negotiating table once more, Elaxia at his side, and found Wreven had already arrived. The Barbarian King winked at him and Dread almost felt bad for Aelodi. Almost. But then he remembered the many years he spent cold, alone, and scared. He remembered his beautiful mother and how she enjoyed painting and weaving tapestries. His father's warm laugh echoed and faded in his mind.
Hurting an innocent to harm his greatest enemy seemed a fair bargain. A cold emptiness occupied the place inside Dread where empathy once resided.
The king's retinue arrived and they sat. King Anthony's eyes were hard and burning with righteous anger. The princess's head was downcast and she refused to meet anyone's eye.
