Scheherazade and the Ing

In the grey dawn, the capital city of Irlazken seemed to float above the sea. As the Persian ship drew closer, the swirling mist that obscured the craggy mountain began to fade and the harbour town below shimmered like a mirage on the horizon.

To anyone else on any other day, it would have been an incredible sight to behold. But, to the ship's mismatched crew of traitors, rebels, outlaws and royalty, the towering city was an ominous beacon.

Shariyar, Shahzaman, Jafar, Cas, and Kuiril stood against the ship's rail, each one all but glaring at the approaching city. Only Arossa seemed pleased to see the palace towers come into focus, her usual stoic expression replaced by a slight smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

She walked over and stood beside her grandfather, leaning her forearms on the rail.

"Just think," she murmured, "soon she will belong to the people once more. Our city, our palace, our

printzesa

."

"It will not be easy,

biloba

," Kuiril said, his voice somehow both gentle and grim. "Our people have suffered. They are beaten down. Scared. Skint and starving. What if we are expecting too much of them?"

"We are not all beaten down and scared," she sniffed. Then, with a light nudge of her shoulder against his: "You did what you set out to do,

aitite

- the

printzesa

is home. And she has brought hope with her."

Kuiril stood a little straighter, pride swelling within his chest.

"She is touched by magic," Arossa continued, "I have seen it with my own eyes."

Cas leaned forward to catch Arossa's gaze: "Her tattoos?"

Shariyar's brow furrowed: "What about the tattoos?"

Cas shrugged slightly: "It was just a moment. I thought I saw them shimmer."

Arossa nodded: "It was not a trick of the light. They glow. She says it has only started happening recently. I believe it is this land claiming her back. All these years, Fate has been conspiring to bring her back here - not as the girl who was stolen, but as a queen ready to take her throne."

She turned to face her grandfather: "That magic that was done to her. What if it did more than she realised? What if it planted a seed?"

Kuiril's eyes widened slightly: "And Yanamari is a root-worker."

"A root-worker?" Shariyar repeated.

"In our culture, root-workers are people predisposed to the magic of ritual and the rhythms of the natural world," Kuiril explained. "They are healers, storytellers, sacred guides to the peaceful beyond. They carry their own magic, it's true - but, for a root-worker to be touched by the kind of magic the Daarkans possess - well, I agree with my granddaughter, it would almost certainly do more than simply heal her physical form."

"Then it is only a matter of time before Ekaitz trades the hangman's rope for a torch," Shariyar interjected grimly. "If he does not hang her as a traitor, he will burn her as a witch."

+++++++++

Yanamari awoke to darkness and a pounding in her head.

She pushed herself upright, recognising the familiar weight of shackles around her wrists and ankles with a grim chuckle: "What a surprise."

Beneath her limbs, the stone floor was cold and damp. The only light was a dim, amber glow that seeped from the edges of the doorframe. She could scarcely see her hand when she held it up to her face.

She tried to stand up but the shackles around her wrists were chained to the floor and she could rise no further than onto her knees.

She sighed and leaned against the wall, the bricks clammy against her back even through her clothes.

Yanamari closed her eyes and began to hum - a song that came to her lips unbidden. She rolled the tune around on her tongue. There was something familiar about it. She breathed in deeply, searching for the distant memory.

"

Too-le-la, too-le-lay...

And the women are singing too-le-la, too-le-lay,

But one kiss from you and I swear I will stay,

Safe on these shores and never see the day

When my love sings goodbye, too-le-la, too-le-lay.

"

A creaking noise echoed outside the door and the light surrounding the doorframe grew brighter. Yanamari paid no attention to the sounds of footsteps drawing near, nor the sound of bolts being undone, nor even the sound of the door creaking open.

"

Too-le-la, too-le-lay..."

The thud of boots - a single pair - approached her and then stopped.

"So,

traidore

, you are awake."

"Yes, despite your best efforts," Yanamari muttered, finally opening her eyes.

"Hardly."

Ekaitz loomed over her, a lantern in one hand. By the flickering glow, she could see his swollen nose and the dark bruises painted across his cheekbones.

"Oh dear," she simpered. "What happened to your face?"

He chuckled and shook his head as he crouched down, setting the lantern to one side.

"You don't look so good yourself," he said, reaching out to lift her shirt so he could see the purple bruises colouring her abdomen.

As he lifted the covering higher she let out an angry cry and tried to twist away from him.

Ekaitz laughed as she struggled: "Oh, is the whore trying to protect her dignity? Considering everything I've heard, I'm not sure how much you have left."

He grabbed the collar of her shirt and ripped it down the middle, pulling the fabric wide and leering at her breasts as they rose and fell with each angry breath she took.

Ekaitz leaned back, his forearms resting on his knees as he examined her.

"It's hard to believe Stellamaris was really your sister," he continued, cocking his head to one side. "You are the opposite to her in every way."

Yanamari's jaw tightened at the mention of her sister's name. The sister whose face she could not remember. The sister whose voice she would never hear again.

Ekaitz flicked a finger towards her: "That, right there. That defiance. She didn't have an ounce of it in her. I expected a challenge and, instead, found myself wed to an obedient fool. I suppose it made things easier, though. She hung on my every word, right to the end. But you... look at you. This pale, fragile thing - so slight I could break you between my hands and still, so full of fight."

He stretched out a hand and wrapped his fingers around her throat, tightening his grip until Yanamari rasped in a shaky breath.

Ekaitz leaned in towards her and she could smell the scent of his hair as his cheek grazed against hers. She tried to recoil from the scratch of his beard but he held her in place. The only sound was their breathing - his deep and ragged, hers shallow. Slowly, the grip around her neck softened. His thumb moved up and down against her throat. Though she could breathe again, she hardly dared to.

"Did Shariyar like to choke you, little

printzesa

?"

Yanamari did not speak but he could feel her throat quiver slightly beneath his thumb.

"You can't help yourself can you? I could crush your throat in one motion and you're still glaring at me. A sensible woman would be begging for her life right now. Is that how you survived Zigor all those years? Hm? Or did he fall in love with you too?"

Yanamri's eyes narrowed as Ekaitz finally pulled his hand away from her throat.

She breathed in shakily.

"What do you mean?"

"A rumour reached me that a certain Persian king was lately seen dancing with a flaxen-haired maiden with eyes like lapis. Seemed quite smitten by all accounts."

His tone was mocking as he looked her up and down: "Was that you? Is the Emperor of Persia in love with a pirate's scraps?"

"No."

"Are you certain of that?"

"A few hours after that he had me in chains on my way to you."

He sighed: "Well, that's a shame. I should have liked the chance to use you against him. But, no matter, I can still think of a few ways to put you to use. After all, you will be here for quite a while."

"Your dungeon does not scare me, Ekaitz. Do you think I am afraid of the dark? Or that I am unused to chains?"

"No, I don't. This dungeon is not for your benefit," he snapped. "It's for the rabble of peasants you dragged in behind you. If I had my way, you'd be hanged within the week. But that would just make you more of a martyr than you already are and I can't have that right now. So, you'll have to just rot here for a year or two first."

He reached out as if to touch her breasts. Yanamari pulled away as far as the chains would allow.

"Have you considered what danger

you

might be in? I am a witch after all."

"Ah, yes, you've probably heard the rumours about my superstitious ways. Given enough talk of demons and devils, the rustics of this country will throw their own mothers to the fire. But, I'll tell you a secret." He leaned forward conspiratorially: "A witch is just a woman who gets in my way."

He chuckled at the look in her eyes.

"Make no mistake, I will gladly see you burn. But do not be fooled into thinking that I believe you to be anything more than a girl. A girl made of flesh that can be torn and bones that can be broken. That little riot you started will be crushed and you will languish here, chained in the darkness, until everyone in this kingdom has forgotten about you again. And, when that happens - when only you and I remember who you really are - then I will kill you."

She recoiled as Ekaitz rose to his feet and stepped forward, gripping her chin harshly and forcing her to look up at him.

"I cannot wait to see you chained in the barracks, being fucked in every hole by the palace guard - the very men who have sworn an oath to keep the royal family safe. Just the thought is making me hard. Can you see that?"

Yanamari glared at him as he ran a hand along the growing bulge in his trousers. Ekaitz laughed and pulled a vial from his pocket, flipping the cap open with his thumb. He pushed his fingers in her mouth, forcing her lips open. She cried out and tried to struggle away but Ekaitz tipped the contents into her mouth and pushed her jaw up, clamping a hand over her mouth so she could not spit the liquid out.

"Swallow it. Go on, swallow."

Panicked tears welled in Yanamari's eyes as she was forced to comply, gulping down the bitter liquid.

"Don't worry," Ekaitz murmured, his hand still clamped over her mouth. "The effects of this particular variety of nightshade are temporary. A trick I learned from one of the many root-workers my soldiers have captured over the years. Given the little incident in the throne room, I thought it best to take precautions this time."

He smiled grimly as the girl's struggles steadily weakened until she went limp beneath his hands and crumpled to the ground.

Bile rose in her throat as she realised she could not move. Yanamari tried to scream but her lips wouldn't open. She whimpered through her clenched teeth in panic.

Ekaitz stepped backwards and pulled a key from his belt, unlocking the chains keeping her bound. He pushed the shackles from her limbs and pulled her into his arms. She could not support her own head and he chuckled as it came to rest against his chest. He carried her across the darkened room to where a makeshift mattress lay. He lay her on the bedding, positioning her head to the side so she could watch as he undressed.

He stepped backwards and began peeling off his clothing, revealing a tanned, muscular torso covered in the scars of battle and only the finest film of blonde hair. He kicked off his boots and let his trousers drop to his feet. His cock hung between his legs, limp for the moment.

"I'll bet my body looks a little bit like Zigor's, doesn't it?" Ekaitz asked, holding his arms wide so that she could take all of him in.

Yanamari closed her eyes, the only movement the temporary paralysis would allow.

"I thought so," he sneered.

Yanamari's eyes flashed open and she glowered at him fiercely. He chuckled as he knelt beside her on the bed, the mattress shifting beneath his weight.

He rolled her onto her stomach and pulled the shirt off her back, running his fingers along the scars that stretched across her skin.

"What did you do to earn these, I wonder?" Ekaitz murmured, rolling her onto her back once more. "Did Shariyar give them to you? What, did you try to escape? Or did he find you with another man, you little

puta

?"

He ran a finger along her collarbone and down her chest, running circles around the soft flesh of her breasts. He licked his lips as her nipples blossomed involuntarily at his touch. With a rough tug he pulled the skirt off her legs and threw it to the ground.

Ekaitz climbed over her, straddling her naked body so that his cock lay against her stomach. Whatever it may have lacked in length, it more than made up for in girth.

He sat up and lifted her right hand, wrapping her fingers around his cock with his own hands.

"Look at that," he breathed lustily. "Your fingers can barely reach all the way around."

He picked up her left hand, lifted it to his mouth and spat in it before wrapping it around his cock. With his own hands he guided her hand up and down his hardening length, moaning slightly each time her fingers brushed against the tip of his member.

"That's it," he murmured. "Get my cock hard and wet."

Though she could not move, Yanamari could feel his flesh against her hands. She could feel her fingers growing slick with precum as it dripped from his member. She clamped her eyes shut but could not keep the hot tears from escaping.

"Are you crying already?" Ekaitz asked breathlessly. "I'm not even inside you yet. Save your tears,

printzesa

."

He let her hands go and positioned himself at the entrance to her sex. He slid his fingers inside her, prying her pussy wide before forcing his cock roughly inside her. Yanamari screamed through her closed lips as he entered her.

"Am I too big for you?" He sneered as he ground his pelvis against hers. "Am I bigger than the King of Kings?"

She choked out a muffled cry. The way he was stretching her, she was certain she must be bleeding.

"My god, you're tight," he breathed. "You fit me like a glove."

Yanamari screamed until her throat was as raw as her sex, praying for the king to cum so that her torment would finally end. Eventually, just when the girl thought she might pass out from the pain, Ekaitz groaned and shuddered.

He pulled his cock from her pussy and cried out as he came all over her stomach. His body convulsed as he shot line after line of cum across her body.

He collapsed onto the bed beside her with a contented sigh: "I'm glad I decided to keep you. I'm looking forward to learning how long it takes that tight, little pussy of yours to get used to my cock."

Yanamari whimpered, straining to move her limbs so that she could curl into herself. She could feel the thick, white ropes of semen growing cold against her skin.

Ekaitz chuckled and ran his hand across her stomach, rubbing his cum across her skin. He scooped a few droplets onto his finger and brought it to her mouth.

"Here, have a taste," he sneered as he wiped his finger across her trembling lips.

He laughed to himself as he climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes.

"The nightshade should wear off in an hour or so," he said, tugging on his boots.

When he was dressed, he dragged her back across the floor and locked the shackles around her wrists and ankles.

Yanamari clamped her eyes shut, trying to quell the emotions threatening to overcome her. The shadows seemed to crowd her, hemming her in from all sides, threatening to drag her back to a feeling of helplessness she had thought she would never feel again. Not here. Not when she had finally found out who she was and where she belonged.

Ekaitz was telling her the same lies they all had - that she was nothing, nobody. She had even begun to believe them. But now she knew that was all wrong. Her people remembered her, and they would not forget her again. He thought to bury her but he would come to find out soon enough that she was a seed.

She took a deep breath and listened. Through the stone walls, into the clamour of the kingdom outside. She could swear she could hear them - the crowds still chanting, still surging against the palace gates like waves upon the shore.

Long live the Queen! Long live Yanamari!

A dim glow began to emanate from the ink that twisted along her arms. When Ekaitz noticed the icy light, the sight made him stumble backwards. He fell to the floor, scrambling away from her over the cold stone floor.

"What is this?" He breathed.

Yanamari opened her mouth and gasped in a deep breath of air. She could feel the poison being burned from her veins. Feel the taste of him evaporating from her mouth. Feel the soreness between her legs fade to nothing. Gathering her growing strength, she slowly pushed herself upright.

"For all the supposed witches you've burned," she rasped, "I would have thought you'd recognise magic when you saw it."

"There's no such thing," he replied, without conviction. "This is some trick."

"Are you certain?" Yanamari hissed. She spat on the ground, clearing her mouth of any trace of Ekaitz's violation.

"You are wrong about me and you are wrong about my people. The ones calling my name now. The ones who remember their princess - their

queen

- even after all these years and will never forget her again. Can you hear them?"

The pale glow surrounding Yanamari intensified and Ekaitz clambered to his feet, half shielding his face against the growing light.

The cries of the mob at the palace gates seemed to echo in his ears:

Long live the Queen! Long live Yanamari!

"Can you hear them?"

Ekaitz shuddered as he drew away, not daring to turn his back on the girl as much as he wanted to. He pulled the door closed and bolted it quickly, pressing his weight against it, as if she might try to burst from the cell. Pale light streamed from beneath the door, seeming to chase him down the corridor.

He pounded his fist on the door at the end of the hall: "Open!"

The guards on either side of the door glanced at each other as they swung the metal door open and their king stumbled through.

"No one is to go in there," he commanded, stabbing a finger towards the door. "Do you understand? No one."

"Yes, your highness," the men replied in unison.

Ekaitz hardly paused to acknowledge their reply, his ears still ringing as he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and his captive. He could still feel her beneath his fingers. All at once, he felt something warm and metallic on his lips. He stopped in his tracks and touched his lips, pulling his hand back to reveal bloody fingertips. His nose had begun to bleed again.

As Ekaitz hurried back to his chambers, hollering for servants the whole way, Yanamari listened to the sound of her people growing louder and louder.

Her people

.

The more she listened, the stronger the light around her grew. There was no trace of nightshade in her limbs now. She could feel the skin on her arms begin to crawl and she glanced down at her wrists. Before her eyes, the bruises beneath her shackles began to fade away. She looked at her legs and watched as each cut knitted together and disappeared, each scar melted away. A tingle along her back told her those marks were gone, too.

"Well, Ekaitz," she laughed breathlessly as she turned her arms over, searching for any sign of her previous wounds. "You wanted a witch - you've got one."

Somewhere above her, surrounded by terrified attendants dabbing at his bruised, bleeding face, Ekaitz felt a shiver run along the length of his spine.

+++++++++

By midmorning, the Persian ship was nearing the harbour town of Santaturzi. A natural sanctuary against the open ocean, the original bay had been enhanced with manmade fortifications: Two stone-hewn parapets wrapped like arms around the harbour, culminating in a pair of stone towers that guarded the narrow entrance to the bay. Far above, the Irlazken palace seemed to grow out of the cliff itself, the stout walls peppered with arrow slits and archer towers.