***This is my unabashedly, un-shameful, exploitative, non-romantic story of a warlord and his struggles. Full disclosure; this story is hyper-violent and hyper-sexualized. There is no romance to be found here, so if you want it, look somewhere else.
This is a fantasy, and that being said, I do NOT ENCOURAGE any of the behavior depicted here. There are strong themes of non-consent/reluctance and the glorification of violence. All participants of sexual acts (and there are plenty) are all over 18 years of age.
The following sexual themes will be featured: anything is open (leave suggestions!)
I am writing this for the fun of it, and also as an attempt to write from a 'villain' or 'bad-guy's' perspective.
Leave comments/suggestions
-Shameless_Writer ***
CHAPTER ONE: THE PRIESTESS
I stood above the woman, shirtless and bleeding from where her knife had cut me across the rib cage. The wound would need stitches, but I would have to attend to it later; there was important business to attend to, and I was losing daylight.
"Can you stand?" I asked the woman, whose white dress had been cut up so badly that it hung off her body in ribbons.
She nodded, and pushed herself off of the stone-paved street of the town, staring at me with dark blue eyes from behind a mess of red hair that had fallen into disarray during our fight. She said nothing to me, just stood in the remains of what had once been her village and awaited my next words.
"You remember our agreement?" I asked, "You kill me, I let you go."
The woman continued to stare as I laughed at my own dark sense of humor. It had been her, with a small golden knife, against me, with nothing but my bare hands; she hadn't stood a chance in hell.
Raising two fingers, I beckoned two soldiers who were standing nearby to come over. They did so without hesitation, standing at attention by my side, awaiting my order.
"Take her to magistrate's house," I instructed, "Prepare her for me. And remember," I snapped, freezing the solders' looks of malicious glee halfway through their conception, "You may only look; do not touch."
The soldiers nodded, and moved swiftly to grab the woman, dragging her off down the road.
With the town's priestess taken care of, I surveyed the town once again to gain my bearings. The sky was becoming a deep purple as the last of the sun's rays sunk behind the houses of the town, but the fires burning near the center of the village were illuminating the street I was standing on, making it easier to see.
To my right, the white marble temple loomed high over the surrounding shops and domiciles. I had found the priestess inside, and had struck up our deal when she had pulled a knife on me in an attempt to protect its treasures. Soldiers, with bare chests glimmering with sweat and blood, were now running in and out of the temple, looting it of its riches.
Most of the townspeople were dead by their hand, and the survivors were being herded to the town's center, where the men would be killed and the woman would be distributed among my soldiers. Children would be left alive along with the elderly; we were warriors, not savages.
I walked down the street, toward the fires, following their glow and ignoring the villagers and soldiers running along either side of the road. My boots made a hollow sound on the stones and my sword clinked quietly from where it hung at my side from a belt that held up my black pants, loose in the leg and pleasantly cool in the heat of the summer.
My soldiers were dressed similarly to me, except their pants were dark brown, and their swords less ornate. Here and there I spotted officers. They did not wear the same simple uniforms as the soldiers or myself, and had decorative tunics that indicated their rank. But there was no mistake who was in charge; I was the one with the dragon after all.
When I reached the center of the town, I noted the small group of women currently being fought over and the other, slightly larger group of men who all stood with their heads down, awaiting their execution.
Between the two groups was a giant metal statue of a gallant-looking man atop a fearsome dragon. He was dressed in armor from head to toe and his dragon's wings were outstretched in a regal position, its jaws wide open, showcasing rows of sharp teeth.
King Draconem: the dragon-king and ruler from the mountains to the western sea. For now.
Beneath the edifice, a circle of fires had been built and lit using wood from some of the village's buildings. The flames were already quite large and getting bigger, licking the feet of the statue and turning the iron an angry red. Eventually the metal would get white-hot and the statue would begin to buckle under its own weight, collapsing on top of the fires and destroying the visage of the king in the process.
Smirking at soon-to-be ruined statue, I walked around it and continued down the main road on the other side of the town square. This side was less crowded with soldiers and people, and it followed the gentle rise of a hill, which ended in the large, luxurious house of the town's magistrate.
It took another few moments to scale the hill, and when I finally reached the stone wall of the house, two guards were there to meet me.
"Is he inside?" I asked one.
"Yes, sir. We found him trying to escape, but we've since secured him," the guard answered.
"Good," I said, "You are dismissed. Enjoy the celebration while you can, we march again in a few days."
The guards glanced at each other before hurrying down the hill to the village to join their comrades.
Pushing through the gate, I walked up the steps of the large stone house and went through the open front door and into the foyer. It was dimly lit inside, most of the candles and lanterns had been blown out, but I could see a light to my left so I followed it, walking across the foyer and down a side hallway which ended in a spacious seating area. Shelves of expensive books lined the walls and an array of couches and chairs were scattered tastefully around the room.
The large fireplace had been lit and I grinned at the sight the flames revealed.
Standing between two guards was the priestess, whose tattered dress had been graciously removed from her body, leaving her naked and exposed. The light of the fire danced sensuously across her pale skin which still glistened with sweat. I noticed that she was completely shaved between her thighs and although she held her legs shut tight, I could make out the tight slit that ran between them. Taught pink nipples stood proudly out from large, round breasts and her face was flushed red with embarrassment, though her eyes still shone as defiantly as they had earlier.
"Thank you, men," I told the two soldiers, "Now take her to the main bedchambers and wait for me there."
The priestess made a startled sound of protest as she was carried away down the hallway, leaving me alone with the second sight that had made me smile.
On the ground, tied up and looking very bloody was the magistrate; a fat, balding man whose left eye was currently swelled up to the size of an orange. Apparently my guards had not taken too kindly to the man's escape attempt and had reminded him not to try it again.
Pulling up one of the many chairs in the room, I took a seat in front of the magistrate. "Do you know who I am?" I asked, running my hand through my short auburn hair and wincing at the pain in my side; I had forgotten about the wound the priestess had inflicted.
The magistrate turned his head to look up at me and shook his head once, his one open eye wide with fear.
