Offspring with Queen Mother

CHAPTER 10. BACK IN A CELL

Darian tried to piece together the events that had led him back to the same cold, damp cell in the castle dungeon. The betrayal stung like a fresh wound, and now the queen knew the truth - he had murdered the king.

"I should have gotten rid of the dagger and cloak," he thought bitterly. "But I was so foolishly relieved at my victory that I never even considered the possibility of being found out."

Despair washed over him. "Who am I trying to fool? I am not fit to be a king," he whispered. "I am just a scared and spoiled child. How could I have ever hoped to marry the queen? If Inglud was still alive, he would know how to stop this madness and save the kingdom."

The dungeon doors creaked, revealing an old man with a flickering torch in his hand.

"Narim," Darian said slowly. There was no hatred or anger in his voice. It was as if Darian was once again greeting an old friend.

"Darian," the counselor muttered back, putting the torch into the wall.

They watched each other in silence for a while, but the silence was far more eloquent than any words. Narim spoke first. "The queen took the throne before your older brother came back."

"I trusted you. I trusted you with my life. We had a friendship that I cherished. And this is the price for my faith? You betrayed me. You wanted me to kill the king, didn't you? And you let me do this."

The man before him, once a trusted ally, now seemed like a stranger. "I never pushed you to do anything. I gave you a book because you asked; I gave you a key so you could run away and start a new life; I destroyed the letter because you needed a favor. And everything I've done was in pursuit of what I believe is necessary for the greater good."

"Why are you doing this? Gold? Power? Queen?"

"Justice."

"Justice?" Darian scoffed. "What justice could possibly justify your betrayal?"

"Justice for those who perished at the hands of the Serpent-Slayers. For many years, your bloodline disrupted the order of nature. The Serpent-Slayers must be eradicated," Narim replied firmly.

"Eradicated? My bloodline has made this kingdom prosperous and strong."

"The prosperity came at a high cost," Narim retorted "Your line's actions have left a trail of horror and death. You capture and kill, destroy and plunder. Your traditions are gruesome and twisted. And you, Darian, are burdened by a forbidden love for your own mother. Such desires are not worthy of those who claim the throne."

Darian gripped the bars of his cell and said, "We have always treated you as a friend, and now you try to play the role of a saint? You're just a pathetic traitor. And my love for my mother is as pure as it can be. That's something you won't understand."

The cold dungeon wind almost extinguished the torch. Narim smiled before continuing, "I don't think there's any love from the queen's side. It breaks her heart to think that her son could commit such a heinous act as ravaging her in her own bed. What son would do this to his own mother?"

"I didn't ravage her, you monster"

"It's all over. You won't escape this time. She knows you murdered the king. Who do you think she would believe more? A cocky young man, even though he is her son or an advisor who has spent a lifetime serving the kingdom?"

The torch flickered, casting eerie shadows across Darian's pale face. "Now I understand why you warned me against mating with the queen. You didn't want me to continue the Serpent-Slayers' lineage."

"My dear friend, did you truly intend to sire offspring with your own mother?" Narim chuckled, the cruel sound echoing through the dungeon. "The queen's bloodline shall continue, but without your involvement."

Darian's heart sank. "What fate awaits me and Tartuff?"

"Your little brother will live, but he will never know who he truly is. He will never be the Serpent-Slayer. Your trial will happen tomorrow, but you won't be in attendance. Knowing your temper, my friend, I don't want you to say anything provocative. In memory of our friendship, instead of execution, I will ensure that you are sent into slavery, where you will live out the rest of your days in servitude"

"If you think I will thank you for that, you are mistaken."

"I won't," Narim said as he turned to leave. "But I do hope that, perhaps not immediately, but someday in the years to come, you will grasp the motives behind my actions. And maybe, through the trials of the life you are destined to lead, you shall find it within yourself to forgive me..." He paused briefly before adding, "My friend. I am sorry, Darian. Truly, I am. However, sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. The days of the Serpent-Slayers are numbered."

With those words, he left. Narim's footsteps faded, leaving Darian alone in the flickering darkness. There is no hope.

-

As the sun set and the darkness crept in, a shadowy figure emerged from the gloom. A little man shrouded in a dark hood approached the young prince and Darian immediately caught a garlic scent.

"Lokir!"

"Back in your cell, I see, Prince. I'm starting to think you like being here," Lokir said with a yellow teeth smile "But I did not come on my own. I came with a guest."

With a flourish, he unlocked the dungeon door, revealing a woman standing in the doorway. Darian's heart skipped a beat. It was his mother. Despite the less-than-ideal setting, she was every bit as regal as he remembered. Her hair flowed in gentle waves down her back; she wore a flowing gown of deep purple that hugged her curves in all the right places.

The queen had always been beautiful, but at that moment, she was positively radiant. Despite the situation, Darian couldn't help but be captivated by her. He knew that he shouldn't be feeling this way, but he couldn't help it. The queen was just too stunning to ignore even though she didn't even try to be.

"Mother," he whispered.

"I'll leave you two alone," Lokir slipped out the door with a sneer.

"I didn't come to just talk. Is it true, Darian?" she asked "Did you do it?"

"No, Mother," he chuckled. "I did not kill the king"

The Queen's gaze flickered over Darian's face, searching for any sign of deceit. But he met her eyes steadily.

"I want to believe you. I truly do. But how can I when you've already betrayed me in the worst way possible? My own son, who I have loved and cared for since the moment you were born, has broken the ultimate taboo."

Darian's smile faded as he saw the pain in her eyes. He reached out to comfort her, but she recoiled, stepping back. "I can't even look at you right now. The thought of what we've done makes me sick."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Mum. We did nothing wrong. It was our duty as king and queen..."

"Duty?" The Queen's eyes widened. "Is that what you think it was? You are not yet the king, Darian. And I am your mother, not wife!"

"Your body thought differently," it raced through his mind and then he said "I know what we did wasn't probably right. But can't you understand how much I love you? How much I need you?"

"Love shouldn't make you do things that are wrong; I am your mother. And what you're feeling is not love; it's a twisted, dangerous obsession."

"But you can't deny that this love felt good, didn't it?" A sly smile spread across his face. Darian reached out and gently took the queen's hand. "After what happened, our relationship won't be the same. You know it. So why don't we just surrender to these feelings?" With his other hand, he tried to pull her closer for a kiss.

"While Lokir is out we can..." he suddenly felt the queen squeeze his fingers painfully. "Ohhhh... Ouch."

"Do not test me. If you dare to touch me like this again, I won't see you as my son, and I might do something I'll probably regret. I am still your mother, and I demand respect," she pulled her hand away, her face flushing.

He gave a pained gasp, taking his hands back. "Nymira the Warrior," Darian thought with a bitter smile.

"This is madness," she said, voice trembling slightly. "I can't believe this is happening. My own son..."

"Your own son what?" he asked, almost whispering.

"Nothing," she said after a short pause. "I just can't believe we've come to this," she sighed heavily and brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. "Now I clearly see that you did it. I'm not stupid, Darian. You killed the king to have a chance... with me."

She looked into his eyes again, searching for any hint of remorse or regret, but found none. The room fell silent, the tension thick and suffocating.

"You are not my son, and your fate will be decided tomorrow at trial. We are done, Lokir," she turned towards the door. Lokir opened it from the other side, letting the queen pass through.

Even though she hates him, Darian won't be able to forget the smell of her heated body, the warmth of her breasts, the feel of mother's insides, and the taste of her lips for a long time to come.

"It's not over yet," he thought and beckoned the counselor. "Lokir. May I have a word?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to prisoners, especially to the murderer of the king," he made a face as if he had tasted sour milk while looking at Darian.

"I don't ask you to talk. Just listen. Tomorrow, my fate will be decided. Whether I die, or whether I can get a second chance with the queen. You have always been more loyal to my bloodline than I could ever imagine. You are the only one I can trust. And tomorrow is your decisive chance to prove your loyalty."

Lokir raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I know we haven't always gotten along, but either way, I want you to ask yourself a question. Who is more likely to have killed the king: the prince, who was in prison when the king was murdered, or the head of the guard, who has never concealed his hatred for the king's sons? The same man who later tried to murder me."

"Are you implying that Braga is behind the King's murder, my prince, not you?" Lokir scratched his balding head, "With all due respect to dead ones, Braga was too dumb to set up something like that himself."

"So, someone helped him - the spy. How convenient that Narim was the only one who knew about the hiding place in my chambers, where he found the dagger. Convince the queen to search Narim's or Braga's chambers. It is my last will."

"Hmm..." Lokir scratched his head once again. "The old scoundrel was never one for fair play. I used to tell the king about it all the time," Lokir remarked with a hint of bitterness.

"It's harsh to see how he messed with you." The advisor's expression softened slightly as he regarded Darian with newfound respect. "But now I see why he holds you in such high regard. You truly are full of surprises, Darian the Serpent-Slayer." With a nod of farewell, he added, "Goodbye, Prince."

"Farewell. Now everything depends on you."

CHAPTER 11. FINAL TRIAL

The day of the trial passed like any other day in the cell. Everything took place without his involvement, and Darian could only wonder how his fate was decided. Thoughts of his illicit encounter with the queen were the only thing that kept him sane amidst the turmoil. He indulged in the memory of her scent, the softness of her skin, and the fullness of her breasts with meandering blue veins, skin stretches, and dark areolae.

If taboo was bad, then why did it feel so damn good?

As Darian lay back on his bunk, pretending to sleep, the dungeon doors creaked open, and a shadowy figure moved towards him. The sound of a blade being unsheathed filled the air. Swiftly, Darian covertly snatched a sheet from his bunk, deftly wrapping it around his arm to improvise a makeshift weapon. Bracing himself for the confrontation, he remained concealed, capitalizing on the element of surprise.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the intruder, catching him off guard, and wrestled him to the ground, delivering a swift, decisive strike that instantly incapacitated the man's neck. It was only in that moment of victory that Darian's eyes could discern the features of the defeated assailant: his very own jailer.

Confusion mixed with pain as Darian noticed the stab wound on his shoulder, the jailer's final desperate act before meeting his demise. Wincing, he clutched his injured shoulder, trying to comprehend the turn of events. "What's going on?" he questioned aloud. "I have to find my mother", Darian took the jailer's sword and seized the keys, making his way towards the upper levels, escaping the depths of the dungeon.

The castle was suspiciously quiet. No sound of moving soldiers, no rustling flames, no wind blowing. It was as if time had stopped.

Soon he came across the first corpse. A soldier with an embroidered bear on his cloak, Incurian banner. A pool of crimson stained the ground beneath him, and an arrow ominously protruded from his neck.

"Stop right there, prisoner," a voice boomed behind Darian. Slowly, he turned around to face a heavily breathing soldier in armor identical to the deceased's.

"What happened? Where are the queen and the counselors?" Darian demanded.

"How did you escape? Drop your sword," the guard replied, edging closer.

"What is your name, soldier?"

Before the guard could respond, another guard appeared on the opposite side, wielding a bow. The archer drew back the string, preparing to fire.

Darian let out a sigh, waving his sword in the air. "I cannot handle two enemies from both sides."

"For escaping, you will face death!" the first one charged into battle with sword raised and Darian prepared to defend himself. An arrow flew and, to Darian's surprise, the soldier fell dead at his feet, the arrow piercing his eye.

"Are you not wounded, my prince?" inquired the archer, who had drawn closer, as if materializing out of thin air, while Darian still tried to comprehend what just happened "You have been acquitted, but there were traitors among the guards."

"I was acquitted?" Darian mumbled, staring at the dead guard on the ground.

"I will explain everything on the way," urged the Archer, gesturing for the prince to follow.

"I need to find the queen."

"That's where we're heading," assured the archer as they proceeded down the corridor. In hushed tones, the guard recounted the recent chaos that had gripped the castle. The queen, he explained, had ordered a search of Narim and Braga's chambers, which had left the former visibly shaken. It turns out that part of the guard was collaborating with him. That's when it started to get messy. The castle is still divided between those who remain loyal to the Serpent-Slayers and the traitors who have aligned with Narim.

"What's your name, soldier?" Darian asked while they ventured into dark corridors.

"Jason."

"You will be rewarded, Jason."

"A bottle of ale and some rest will be a glorious reward," Jason said, smirking.

They stepped into the grand Triumphal Hall, their eyes met with a harrowing sight. Corpses of fallen soldiers were strewn across the floor, painting a grim scene of battle. Standing in the center, surrounded by soldiers, was Lokir, engaged in an intense conversation with the once-respected old man, Narim, now kneeling before him. Next to him was Nymira with a baby in her arms. She was clad in a sweat-soaked dress, the strap having fallen off her shoulder, exposing part of her smooth skin.

"Darian!" Lokir waved cheerfully, seeing the prince at the entrance. Meanwhile, his mother remained silent.

"I brought the prince," Jason said, stepping aside.

"You were right, Darian," the counselor stepped closer. "This old bastard is a sticky traitor. He was sending letters to the barbarians about Nome's army plans and status."

The hall quickly filled with soldiers, several of them picked up the old man and Darian met the eyes of the man who had once been his trusted friend.

"Narim, you are charged with treason," Lokir announced sternly, though the old man's gaze remained fixed on Darian, shifting back and forth between him and Nymira.

"Sonner or later Nome will return... And there will be no way out for you, Darian. And you know it. Celebrate while you still can. The true king is coming."

Darian watched him silently, his shoulder still giving a painful groan. He looked at the queen, noticing the torn strap on her right shoulder that caused her breast to peek out slightly from behind the dress. Her skin, with its undulating veins and tiny stretch marks, reminders of her age, was shifting into a circumference of a pink halo, barely visible.

A sudden realization stunned him. All obstacles to their union were finally behind them. The king, the crown, Nome, Narim. He was the king now. She was now his wife, his queen. He gazed at the very throne he had desired for so long and stepped closer. "The queen belongs only to the king."

CHAPTER 12. CORONATION

The morning began and Darian woke up feeling already exhausted. A couple of days had gone by, and life in the castle slowly returned to what it was. No one in the kingdom even knew what had happened inside the castle. But today, everyone knew that Darian's coronation would take place this evening.

As Darian splashed his face with water from the bucket, he couldn't help but reflect on the remarkable turn his life had taken. He had always harbored a deep-seated belief that he was destined for greatness, but he never could have foreseen becoming king under such weird circumstances.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, the queen appeared in a white light dress. Her tits jiggled as she entered, with nipples visible through the sweat-thin fabric.

"I... just came to check on you," Nymira said softly, her eyes scanning his wounded shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

He turned his face and winced as her gentle hands touched the wound, but didn't pull away. Despite the pain, Darian managed a weak smile. He was glad to see his mother.

"I'm okay. Just a little sore. You are not accusing me of killing the king anymore?"

Nymira's expression softened, and she reached out to take his hand. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I'm sorry for doubting you and for accusing you of your father's murder. I should have known you would never do that."

Darian nodded. "It's okay... I still love you, Mum. You are the most important person in my life."

"I love you too, dear" her voice barely above a whisper. "Together, we'll make things right again. I know it"

Darian took a deep breath. "There's something I need to ask you."

"Before you say anything," she interrupted, "you will become a king tonight, Darian. Therefore, I want to start a new life between us. I want to forget about the taboo love we shared and I want everything to be as it was."

"I don't think we will be able to forget about it."

"We will have to. Do you understand?" She took a deep breath, examining Darian's body. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"

He immediately felt reluctant to talk, strained his forehead, thinking about something, and suddenly asked, obviously not what he was planning to say before. "Be honest. The night we spent together. I know it was wrong, but...did you enjoy it?"

Nymira swallowed hard, her eyes dropping to the ground as she searched for something to say, and that's when she noticed the hard points of her nipples pushing against the fabric of her shirt, suddenly aware that they had been visible all this time. Surprise sparkled in her eyes.

"It's...complicated," she said, her cheeks flushing red, she made an effort to hide her nipples. "It was wrong but at the same time, it felt so good. I felt like a woman, for the first time in years. I had been so focused on my responsibilities as a mother, queen, and wife that I had forgotten what it meant to be a woman, to feel desired and wanted. It was nice, but you are my son, Darian. It was just a one-time accident that we should forget and move on. I don't want it to ruin our relationship."