Queen of Midsummer

Reya stood on the edge of the cliff, head held high. Below her, the grey sea churned violently. She had a choice, to jump or to turn away. It was no choice at all.

The crowd watching her expected her to jump. There was no true escape from her duties. To jump was to declare herself the rightful ruler of the kingdom, to turn away would not strip her of her title, but it would turn the people against her. Her every move would be questioned, scorned and broken down. Her orders would fall upon sluggish ears and even those closest to her would surely begin to turn. To walk away from the cliff was to tell her people that she cared not for their traditions. That she spurned the very foundations that had made her kingdom strong.

Closing her eyes against the breeze, she listened to the steady beat of the drums as her heart sped. Her gown fluttered lightly against her skin, the delicate material pulling in the breeze. With the setting sun before her, she was all but naked in the sheer material, her curves lit up for everyone to see. Dragging in a deep breath, she pitched forwards with arms stretched before her. Eyes closed to the very end, she felt her fingers meet the water before she was immersed.

For a few long seconds, she stayed under. Opening her eyes to the silent world beneath the waves, she took in the blue-tinged majesty of a world she rarely had the pleasure of experiencing. Her lungs burned and she kicked for the surface, golden light illuminating the world she knew well.

A cheer echoed through the countryside. A wave of people moved for the side of the cliff and she swum farther out, making room for her people to follow in her footsteps. In this ritual, her task was to lead. The jump was symbolic. She had to take the first steps, in this ritual as in life. She was responsible for the safety of her people; any risk she took was one they all took.

* * *

Reya stood in her tent, candlelight flickering over her bare skin. Her dark hair fell in waves around her face, the silky mass brushing over her breasts and ending at her waist. Small braids twisted back from her temples, keeping her eyes free as she looked herself over in the polished metal of her mirror. Maids bustled throughout the tent, clearing the space and laying out the next ceremonial garb. The coronation had three parts. The first, the jump, proved her courage as a leader. The second, her connection to the land - divine favour, some called it - would see her publically bred with a man who had been selected by the gods. He was undoubtedly already at the altar, standing before her people and drinking the blessed wine. It would increase his virility, his lust and his strength. The third part of the coronation would see her don her crown, and take her position as Queen.

A maid touched her shoulder, gesturing to the gown spread out on the bed. Nodding, Reya walked over to the gown, each step weighing heavier on her shoulders. When she leapt from the edge of the cliff, she sealed her fate. There was no turning back now. Her purity would be taken and a child seeded in her belly. Should it take, it would promise the fertility of her rule. The divine favour bestowed upon her kingdom. If she failed to get pregnant, it would be an omen of difficult times ahead. It was a risk she had to take.

The gown was another light, airy number. The summer air was still warm and moist, even with the downing of the sun. Her arms were left bare and her hair unbound as the gown settled around her shoulders. The gown covered her breasts and fell to her feet in soft green folds, her back left bare to her lower waist. The night air caressed her skin as she walked, bare-footed on the soft, green grass. Torches lined her route, beyond them people gathered and whispered. Excitement wound through the air and the smell of sex was already potent on the breeze. Reya was not the only one hoping for a pregnancy, but perhaps she was the only one who feared what that pregnancy would do to her.

As she moved through the darkness, the altar became clearer. The man beside it turned to face her. He was naked to the waist, nothing but a short loincloth covering his sex. His face was covered with a mask that had been created especially for him. It moulded flawlessly to the planes of his face, the detailing enhancing his strong jawline and sharp bone structure. His mask was a depiction of the God of the Hunt, leaves and feathers glued in place to give him a look of the woods. In the firelight he was something to behold. Golden muscles rippled as he moved to watch her progress and his skin shimmered with what seemed to be unearthly power.

Reaching his side, Reya glanced at the altar. She spotted the glasses of blessed wine, both full on the table. Her gaze cut back to her chosen partner and she stared into his dark eyes questioningly. His jaw was clenched and his back stiff, tension rolling off him in waves. Glancing around at the people gathered, she leant in close. She was not supposed to speak of anything but divine will in these moments, but something was not right.

"You have not drunk the wine." She said softly, turning her face into his neck in a display of affection.

"I will not go through with the ritual." He growled softly, arms staying at his side.

"Then why did you participate in the games?" Reya asked, thinking of the brutal selection process. Only the strongest and the most cunning could last through the annual games. The winner became the People's King, meant to breed with the People's Queen.

"Because I thought a girl from the village would be the People's choice this year. I never imagined that I would be nothing but - but breeding stock for a royal." He was shaking slightly, rage and frustration warring within him.

"A girl from the village." She said, her voice falling flat. "I see." There had been many rumours about the selection of women for the annual fertility ritual. This year saw no choice in the selection of People's queen. Reya had to prove her devotion to the faith of her people by becoming what they revered most. Next year she would be nothing but an observer to this ritual, watching a girl from the village blush and fall into the arms of the winning male. The men fought fiercely for the honour of being People's King, but the women were chosen by a ritual that was seemingly random.

"Your love?" Reya asked. "A girl that you have courted perhaps?"

His eyes snapped to her and even through the mask she could see his wariness. "My future wife."

"And she will be the mother of our child." Reya said, sliding her hand to her glass of wine. "Do not think that I go into this lightly. I do not know your name and I have never known the touch of a man." She raised the cup to her lips and drank, savouring the spice of the wine. "The entire kingdom looks to us, a part of you must understand this or else you would have thrown the contest when you learned who would be your Queen."

"You will force my wife to be a mother to a child not of her flesh." He hissed, turning his head from the cup she held to his lips.

"A child that I would be forced to abandon to a man I know nothing of. A child that would bring you and your wife wealth, prosperity and the love of the people around you." Reya lowered the cup and stared into its depths. "Abandon me now and you will commit treason, condemn me to a cursed rule and spur on the attempts on my life. Tonight you are a King, and your actions can send ripples throughout the entire kingdom, and beyond. Choose wisely."

His eyes stared into her for a long second as the crowd's whispers grew louder. His throat worked as he made his decision and picked up his own cup. Downing its contents in one long swig, the crowd cheered and passion swelled between them. The wine worked quickly, speeding their breath and igniting a flame in their blood. Reya threw her cup behind her and climbed on the altar. Kneeling upon it, she wrapped her arms around her partner's neck and pulled his lips to her own.

A fever worked through them both, driving them towards completion. Tension coiled in her belly as his hands roamed over her skin, shedding her of her dress. The material pooled on the grass, joined quickly by his loincloth. His arousal was plain for everyone to see, as was hers. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, breasts growing heavy and skin tingling with wine and lust.

He lifted her by her waist and sat her on the altar, back to the crowd. Her legs wrapped around him as they kissed, tongues duelling, the taste of one another driving them both mad. His arousal prodded at her sex, which was hot, wet and dripping, ready for him to enter her, to seed her womb.

He broke away and returned, raining kisses down her neck. He tasted the salt on her skin and dipped lower, sucking at her breasts, kneading the sensitive mounds until she was in a state of frenzy. She needed more than the pleasure that was rocketing through her body. She needed relief from the inescapable fire that was roaring through her blood.

His mouth moved even lower, stroking over her quivering belly. He dropped to his knees before her, baring her to the eyes of the crowd. She could hear their moans of passion, their grunts and animalistic sounds of rutting as they built to a collective peak. They would build and shatter over and over, like the waves upon the beaches below them as Reya and her mysterious partner explored each other in the heat of the night.

His mouth hovered near her sex, hot breath fanning over her tender flesh. Whimpers of longing escaped her throat. She bucked under his hands as they held her hips, spreading her legs wider with his shoulders. His mouth lowered onto her clit, tongue circling the aching bud and sparking sensation throughout her whole body. She bucked wildly under his ministrations, feeling his fingers grind into her hips as he held her steady. His tongue flicked the length of her sex, dragging her wet arousal with it. Her juices flowed freely and he lapped at them, tongue pushing into her sheathe as fingers crept to her needy clit, stroking her into her first climax. Her cries arced out into the night and a peak washed over the crowd.

Hands pushed her to her feet and spun her around. She was placed on her belly on the altar, legs spread apart and arms caught behind her back. She was powerless in the face of what was to come, but she wasn't afraid. In this, she would submit willingly. Her passion came roaring back to life, another climax building low in her womb. Hardness pressed into her sex from behind, pushing into her slowly. The head of his cock was worked into her until it reached her virgin barrier. She panted harshly, her muscles working to accept the intrusion as wave after wave of tension wound her even tighter. He gave her a second before thrusting harshly through her virginity. She cried out in pain and pleasure, her body keyed up and ready to come apart.

He thrust shallowly, even in the midst of his raging lust, still gentle enough to allow her time to adjust. When she writhed beneath him, desperate for more friction, he sped in his movements. He thrust harder and faster, his grunts washing over her. She could almost feel his heartbeat as he gripped her arms harder in his hands, pulling her into his thrusts.

She cried out as the tension in her reached its' peak and broke, her entire world shattering in a blaze of light. Her muscles clamped hard around his shaft, working it until he groaned harshly and ground himself into her, as deep as he could possibly go. His shaft swelled and jerked as he pumped his seed deep within her belly. He filled her and slumped over her body, his ragged pants echoing harshly in her ears.

Her arms began to ache and she shifted beneath him. He rolled off her and cradled her into his side. The wine was still pumping through their bodies, stirring their blood into a frenzy of lust. The effects would keep them aroused until light started to peek over the horizon, long after many of the crowd had made the decision to return to their homes and await the ceremony that would take place in the early hours of the morning.

When she could rest no longer, Reya rolled to her side and up onto her knees. She laid her partner flat on his back and lowered her mouth to his flesh. It was her turn to taste him, to brand his scent into her memory for the long, lonely nights ahead. Working her way down his chest, she paid attention to his nipples which stood to attention before her. The hard nubs pebbled under her tongue and he moaned beneath her.

Her hands slicked over his damp chest and down to grasp his manhood, soaked in her blood and juices. Straddling his chest, she moved down his body until her lips touched the tip of it. She had never imagined she would perform such an act, but she had heard rumours of the things men liked and such rumours had a way of invading the subconscious. Dipping her mouth lower, she licked along his shaft, feeling the bumps and ridges and tasting the tang of her own fluids mixed with his seed.

Hands grasped her hips and forced her legs to spread wider. Warmth licked at her sex and around her clit, setting up a slow, sensual rhythm. She tried to match it, bobbing her head over his shaft in time to his licks. She swept her hair out of her face and focused all of her attentions on him, feeling the slight swelling that meant he was almost ready to give her more of his seed. She shuddered in pleasure from the thought and her own pleasure spiked. He bucked into her, exploding in her mouth. Inexperienced as she was, she could not swallow quickly enough and his seed dripped from her mouth. The taste of his seed sent more shivers through her and she didn't resist when he grasped her roughly and turned her over.

He was inside her quickly, his hardness growing quickly once more. Reya cried out as her body thrummed with an overabundance of sensation. She couldn't come down from her orgasm, the pleasure cutting through her keenly as her partner worked her over.

They stayed locked together, thrusting, entwined, as the night wore on. As the sun emerged from the sea, they collapsed, exhausted on the altar. The crowd had dispersed and the only people that remained were ones that had spent themselves in passion through the night.

Hands lifted Reya and carried her away, back to her tent to rest for the few minutes she could spare before the coronation demanded her attention. As she sank into the furs of her temporary bed, her weary eyes caught upon a figure standing over her. The man glowed with a faint green light and his face seemed to be made from leaves and twigs. He seemed to smile at her and his teeth were revealed as sharp, viciously pointed things. His hands waved over her body and a tingle worked through her, a remnant of the intense pleasure she had found in the night. Her hazy brain could not remember the stories she had heard of the women who had been through the fertility ritual, the tales of being visited by a strange creature, a spirit, a servant of the gods. All she knew in that moment was that she was safe, regardless of the strange being with its strange, threatening teeth.

* * *

Reya stood wearily as maids dressed her freshly-cleansed body. Heavy robes settled on her shoulders. Thick, velvet material swathed her frame. The weight of the material paled in comparison to the weight of the responsibility that she was about to take on. She might have been groomed for this her entire life, but to actually have the fate of an entire kingdom laid out at her feet. To know that any move she made could send men to their deaths or leave her people starving in a bitter winter. To know that men and women would lay down their lives to her. It was not something she could ignore. Nor was it something that she could turn away from.

On all sides of her she faced death. Many were opposed to her rule and even as she began her walk through the palace grounds guards flanked her on all sides, vigilant for a spy or assassin that might slither though the many defences erected for such an important occasion.

In a haze of exhaustion and contemplation, she went through the actions that had been drilled into her over the past few weeks. The coronation went smoothly, with only a slight disturbance that went unnoticed by most of the court. As the crown settled over her head a flock of birds took to flight outside the grand windows. Their silhouettes formed a ring, the shadow cast over the head of the new queen. It was another omen, one rarely seen. It was a blessing, and the sign of a long and fruitful reign. With that omen, music filled the hall and the people rejoiced.

A careful watch was kept on her over the next year. No man was allowed within arm's reach of the new queen to ensure that the child swelling her belly was the product of the Midsummer rituals. When she gave birth, so did several others, with yet more carrying newborns in their arms. A celebration raged throughout the week, but the Queen was nowhere to be seen after the birth of her daughter. A daughter that was ripped from her arms and carried off, to live with her father and stepmother, never to know the burdens of royalty.

That was the day she became a Queen in heart as well as mind.

Her child might have left her body, but she had given her something else. Her daughter, so blessed by the gods, had left her mother with prophetic visions. It was the start of a new age and she was going to prepare her people to weather it, whatever that might mean.