Their bodies slick with the sweat of their labors slid together with frantic passion. It seemed to King Logan that he could last forever as each thrust seemed to take him deeper and deeper into her very core. Their mouths ground together feverishly as they joined their bodies in the most intimate of pleasures.
The moon fell beyond the western horizon and the dawn emerged over the eastern Sea of Tranquillity, its tangerine glow echoing off the surface of the water that lay as smooth as glass. Still the crowned couple consummated their passions with their lusty coupling. Finally, when the king believed he could thrust no more, he envisioned the son that would be heir to his kingdom and his seed erupted from his mighty staff into the deep recesses of the queen's receptive womb. Queen Evaine's hungry netherlips drank greedily of his seed at the moment of his release and her womb tightened in spasms of ecstasy as she succumbed to an onslaught of convulsing orgasms of which she had never before been the beneficiary of.
The couple lay exhausted amidst the turbulent satin sheets now damp and aromatic with the memory of their joining. They fell into a deep exhausted sleep, close in each other's arms and dreamed of the son they were want to receive. * * *
The seasons changed slowly, from spring to summer to autumn, when at last, nine cycles of the moon to the day when she had first conceived Queen Evaine went into labor. It was late October and the leaves of the orchards were painted with new frost. The King, who had been away on a hunting expedition, was summoned at once and rushed home to his queen to witness the birth of his heir. King Logan was filled with torment as he listened to the screams of his queen from outside the birthing room. He cursed his own desire of wanting an heir many times as the hours passed and still the queen cried out in anguish. At last, he could stand it no more and he burst into the room where a midwife and many servants were gathered around his suffering queen. The look of her shocked him and hurt him deeply for she seemed to have aged many years. Her skin was deathly pale and her thin robes were saturated with sweat and blood. Her beautiful face was contorted into a hideous mask of affliction. King Logan nearly fainted at the sight of her.
Instead, however, he gathered his strength and went to her side. The queen eyes were shut tight as she tried desperately to thrust the life within her free. Her breath came in shallow gasps. The king enclosed her slender hand in his own and pleaded with her to beg his forgiveness. Queen Evaine opened her eyes, lashes wet and fluttering against her cheek.
"My king," she whispered, her voice now so weak, "do not blame yourself. I wanted a heir as much as you. . . and now, with your strength beside me, he is nearly here."
With that, the queen bore down hard and gave one final thrust and the newborn babe was freed of her womb. The queen lay back heavily within the arms of her king and smiled. A small cry filled the room and King Logan laughed and wept with gratification. The midwife cut the cord that lay planted in its mother's womb and then entrusted the new babe to the servants to clean and bathe. She then quickly began the task of thwarting the flow of blood from the queen's battered womb.
Too soon, however, the midwife cried out, "There is too much blood! I cannot halt the flow!"
King Logan's sudden exuberance dwindled quickly into shock and fear. Forgetting his newborn babe, he held his queen and smoothed the lines from her clammy brow. Queen Evaine lie still in his embrace, her breath barely a whisper.
"My love!" the king cried urgently, "Do not leave me now, when all our dreams have been fulfilled! Do you hear me woman?"
The queen's eyes fluttered operand she motioned for him to bend his ear to her. "Do not be sad my king, on this the most glorious of days. I will die a happy woman knowing we have at last the son we have always wished for."
A last breathe escaped her lips with these words and Queen Evaine died in her husband's arms. For a long time King Logan wept and held his dear wife in his arms. His shoulders shuddered with each heartfelt cry of deepest sorrow. His tears drenched his dead queen's silvery tresses so that they clung to his cheek.
Finally, the midwife gained her courage and brought the newborn babe swaddled in rich fabrics befitting a monarch to the king.
"Here, Sire. . ." she said, "This is your child, the love of your loins and the sacrifice your queen so humbly gave."
King Logan looked up unseeingly at his newborn child. Then his eyes beheld the beautiful pale creature with silvery curls held within the arms of the midwife and he felt his heart swell immediately with love and pride.
"He is beautiful as his mother!" he gasped, "He is perfect."
A look of plain shock widened the features upon the midwife's face. "But, Sire. . ." she began, "You have not a son, but a daughter!"
Suddenly, the words of the sorcerer echoed back into his mind: "In exchange for this fertility potion, I will come to the Kingdom of Ether in a decade and an half from the birth of your heir and take a woman of my choosing, as is our bargain. Remember, it will be my right to choose whomever I wish."
The king now realized his mistake in trusting the sorcerer. The price was indeed terribly high and much more than he wished to give. He had lost his most adoring queen, and now, because of his stupidity, he may even loose his new daughter. He had been tricked. Enraged, King Logan roared loud and long. His voice bellowed through the walls of his castle, shaking the thin glass of the window panes and echoing out into the courtyard. With it, could be heard the high-pitched wail of the baby, Princess Aaleigha.
