Hi folks,
Fourth story, and back to origins, namely slow lesbian seduction, but this time I had fun introducing a fantasy setting. This is my fantasy at its highest level.
As always, I'd like to point out that I'm not native English speaking, so I apologize in advance if the writing is not perfect.
I just hope you'll enjoy it, as much as I liked writing it.
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When Princess Linda and her future husband, the Prince of Goldwall, entered the city hand in hand, followed by their cortege, a welcome roar and a chorus of applause poured out on them.
The crowds massed along the streets to attend their entrance were huge, and the gendarmes, lined up on a cord, could barely contain their exultation. For years now there hadn't been such manifestations of joy and celebration, and the thin and frightened faces of people were no longer accustomed to laughing and opening up to smiles.
The princess was accompanied by her honor guard, twenty chosen soldiers who had protected her throughout the exile, while Prince Starkaster was followed by a hundred knights of Goldwall, in their splendid golden ceremonial armor. Astride their whites stallions, they made a very majestic impression.
The soldiers were then followed by a succession of jesters and jugglers, who with their jokes and their music helped to surround the cortege with a festive atmosphere.
The people, in ecstasy, sprinkled with flowers the road in front of the couple, as they slowly advanced towards the tower of Strongdawn.
Linda watched the high tower approach, she couldn't believe her eyes: she had grown up in that tower, she knew even the most hidden corner of it, yet she did not recognize it. Ten years had passed since she left, still a child, but it seemed impossible that so much had changed.
Or was it her memory that deceived her? No, impossible. Of the beautiful gardens that surrounded the tower, once the pride of her mother, there was nothing left, except for some stumps cut to make firewood or some dried-up bush. Even the swan lake had dried up, and instead of all the colorful tapestries that once adorned the walls of the tower, the corpses of hanged offenders were now sadly dangling.
Linda remembered a tower that gave off power, of course, but also justice and joy, while the gloomy and somber tower she saw now transmitted her nothing but fear.
And fright she felt as well at the sight of the figure who observed her from the top of the tower. She was her stepmother, Vivian Y ', she knew it.
She squeezed Starkaster's hand harder, seeking comfort in that warm contact. She looked at him, as if to reassure herself that he was there with her, to give her strength and courage.
Because now she was no longer a child, and time had come to take back her kingdom.
Linda and Starkaster, along with a few trusted guards, were seated in the hearing room. At the far end of the hall, it shone the sumptuous throne of the kings of Strongdawn, which had been empty for ten years now. Ever since Linda's father, King Aphonse II, had died in mysterious circumstances.
The decor of the room had completely changed from what Linda remembered. The sunlight was kept out of heavy burgundy curtains on the windows, so that the room was barely illuminated by the large fireplace in the center of the wall and a few blue torches on the walls, while the large tapestries depicting hunting and jousting scenes, that she had admired so much as a child, had disappeared, giving way to paintings with violent colors and depicting strange scenes, which it was impossible to distinguish in detail in the twilight of the room.
It was winter, and notwithstanding the fireplace, which although was lit only gave a faint and stunted flame, in the room it was freezing, and the breath condensed in front of the guests' faces.
After letting her guests wait at least half an hour in that icy hall, Vivian Y' entered the room. She was accompanied by two guards in full armor, black as night, and by four young bridesmaids who held her long cloak.
One thing is worth pointing out immediately about Queen Vivian Y', she was an elf. Her tall, slender figure suddenly entered the room, confident and graceful, like a gust of storm wind. She had straight long hair, black and shiny like ink, cream-colored skin, smooth as the most precious marble, and sharp elongated features, but with eyes unusually large for her race, like dark bottomless pits. Her mouth was wide, and her lips were full and underlined with deep red lipstick. And finally her perfect, long and pointed ears, adorned with rings and earrings.
Like all elves, she had an indefinite age, she looked young and mature at the same time. She was probably very old, but nobody knew for sure.
Vivian Y' was beautiful, indeed, incredibly beautiful, almost supernaturally. Someone said thanks to magical arts. But it was a cold and cruel beauty. So different from Queen Elodie, Linda's poor mother, who had been sweet and good, graceful and delicate, when still alive.
So she was, Vivian Y', who ruled the country and the fate of the kingdom since the death of King Aphonse II, and Linda's main obstacle to the reconquest of her reign.
She had first come to court as a healer, when Queen Elodie had fallen ill. But it wasn't long before rumors and murmurs began to spread in the darkest alleys of the city, and a word began to be whispered: "Witch...".
But there was also another rumor going around, even more terrible, that wanted Vivian Y' to be secretly a dark elf. The dark elves were a cursed race, dedicated to the dark arts, a corrupt and fallen branch of the noble elves bloodline. They were an exiled and hidden people, always looking to destabilize power and conquer their own kingdom. Everyone knew that they sought the wildest pleasures and the most unspeakable vices.
It was also told that there was only one anatomical feature that differentiated an elf from a dark elf. Legends said that the genital organs of a dark elf were deep purple, like a ripe plum. That was the only way to anatomically distinguish an elf from a dark elf.
