Chapter Nine

LEVERIA

My father stared in disbelief at the enchanted mirror. King Dreus’ face stared back.

“…I hope that we can come to a diplomatic solution here, Clartias.” Alfred Dreus said, “I have five-hundred-thousand beasts that reside in my city, and I cannot condone any aggression taken by you or your people.”

“I can’t believe this.” Father sighed, collapsing into the chair, “My own daughter.” He’d remained silent as King Dreus recounted everything that had happened, from the failed rescue attempt, to Yavara’s revelation. Dreus did not say whether he’d made a deal with my little sister, but I knew him well enough; he’d covered his bets.

“I was hoping that we could set up a line of communication between Queen Yavara and yourself.” King Dreus said. He’d stopped calling her ‘Queen Alkandi’ after Father’s visceral reaction to the name. “I have no doubt that she would like to speak with her family, even after the assassination attempt.”

“It was not an assassination attempt!” Mother cried, “We received a message from a ranger that Zander Fredeon and Brock Terdini were holding Yavara. We sent a team of mages and rangers over to rescue her!”

“You can understand why I find that hard to believe, Queen Tiadoa.” King Dreus said as he raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Fifteen highly-trained combatants attack five people unprovoked, one of whom was Prestira Rasloraca, an esteemed citizen of Ardeni Dreus, all without telling me beforehand? This sounds like a covert operation gone wrong.”

“Leveria didn’t tell you about the mission?” Father asked. He turned to me, “It was her that received the message and sent the men out.”

My face turned red as Mother and Father stared daggers into me. I had hoped that this operation would go off without a hitch; I would retrieve my stupid little sister, receive the accolades of taking the initiative, and hold a piece of diplomatic baggage over King Dreus once it was discovered that the Highland princess had been right under his nose. But it all went to shit. Ten rescuers were dead and the other five were to be executed, including Head-ranger Adarian. Elena had also disappeared, no doubt joining her paramour once she found out what Yavara was.

“King Dreus,” I said, swallowing my pride, “it was my mistake. I was so hurried in sending out the rescue mission that I forgot to inform you of it.”

King Dreus gave me a frank look, one that told me he thought I was full of shit. “Be that as it may, Princess Tiadoa, Queen Yavara has spun the botched ‘rescue mission’ as an attempt on her life, and everyone believes it. Despite that, Queen Yavara has fervently pressed her desire for peace with the Highlands; I suggest the three of you take her up on that. Good night.” King Dreus disappeared from the enchanted mirror, which now simply reflected our stupefied faces.

“Queen Yavara,” I sneered, “Queen of rocks and shit and a pack of beasts.”

“How did this happen?” Father lamented again, “My own daughter!”

“She’s not your daughter anymore, Father.” I said, “She’s a monster; she’s evil incarnate! We should send actual assassins!”

“Shut your mouth!” Mother snapped, “You’ve done more than enough!”

“So what?” I snapped back, “Do you two actually want to sit down with the Dark Queen of Alkandra, and negotiate?! Do we allow the Great Forest to be ripped from our hands for nothing? How will the Noble Court take that news, do you think?”

“Politics be damned; this is family!” Father slapped his hand on the arm of his chair.

Politics be damned? Family? I almost laughed. Come now, Father. Who are you trying to impress? “Forget the Noble Court then.” I said, “Just how long do you think it will be before your precious second born decides that she wants more?” I levelled my gaze on him, “How long could our kingdom withstand the onslaught of an army of hundreds of thousands?”

“Yavara wouldn’t attack her own people.” Father said resolutely.

“Oh, she wouldn’t?” I laughed, “Yavara played you all for fools. Why do you think she took her little solo venture? To ‘find herself?!’ Do you think she accidentally transformed into the Dark Queen, then allied with Fredeon, Brock Terdini and Prestira Rasloraca, in the span of four days? She must have been planning this for years. She has deceived you, Father. She will deceive you again.”

Father sat back, pondering my words. “What you say may be true, Leveria, but we should still have open communication with Yavara. I cannot believe -I refuse to believe- that Yavara would wage war on her own people. I just… I just can’t believe it… my own daughter…”

Father began to weep, and Mother put a compassionate hand on his shoulder. I grimaced internally. Father always looked at Yavara as the son he never had. She could shoot better than anyone, ride horseback with the best rangers, and drink men under the table. She was boisterous, bold and overtly friendly, though I thought her stupid, brash and insufferable. Even so, I shared none of the qualities Father loved in her. I always hated how he doted on her, how she was the apple of his eye. My only consolation was that I would take the crown, and she would become some lord’s breeding pet. But that was no longer the case. My stupid, brash, insufferable little sister was the Dark Queen of Alkandra. Oh, she’d played a deep game, Yavara had; played it to perfection. I had to concede my admiration, for it was a masterpiece of manipulation. For even as she marshalled powerful allies to her cause, Father did nothing, broken and disbelieving, loving her still. I’d always despised Yavara, but now I hated her with a distilled purity. I brushed Mother aside, wrapped my arms around my beloved father, and pressed his head to my shoulder.

“Don’t let your love blind you, Father.” I whispered into his ear, “She is the Dark Queen reborn. She has been trying to reclaim her throne for a thousand years, and she’s finally found the perfect vessel with which to do it. She never loved you; she used you. Now you sit here and weep while the greatest threat to our empire draws support from our allies and enemies alike. Don’t think of her as she was. Think of her as she is, and do what must be done.”

“Don’t listen to her, Clartias!” Mother hissed, “She’s trying to push us to war!”

And I always hated my mother too. She was ever suspicious of me, especially when I was around Father. I think she always suspected something was going on, but she never could quite put her finger on it.

It started six years ago. I was an early bloomer, growing into a woman’s body at a young age. Father took notice. One day I left my door open while I was undressing, and Father walked by. Our eyes met. He didn’t avert his gaze, nor walk away. He kept staring, and I kept undressing. It was sick, I know, but I craved paternal attention, and I didn’t care how I got it. Yavara was the son he never had, but I could be the forbidden piece of fruit he always wanted. It turned me on.

Every day I would leave my door open just a little wider. Every day he would watch me from down the hall. We would both pretend we didn’t see each other. One day, I left the door all the way open. I kept my stockings on and bent over on the bed. I started to touch myself. I forked my fingers to spread my nether lips, and I pushed two fingers into my tight virginity. I’d practiced in the mirror the night before; I knew what I was doing. I moaned and cried softly, pushing my ass high in the air, arching my back and looking over my shoulder at him. His pants were around his ankles, his cock was in his hand, and his eyes were on me, swimming with desire. It was the first time I’d ever seen an erect penis. I remember that it was a shock to my eyes, and I could not look away. As my invading fingers kneaded the flesh within, the shock dissipated, and desire replaced it. I wanted it; I wanted it badly. I wanted Father to share something with me that he would never share with his precious Yavara. Day after day, I gave Daddy a show, and day after day he spilled his seed on the floor down the hall. We were stuck in limbo, never taking it further.

A month later, Yavara and Mother went away on a goodwill mission to Vachter Dormus, the dwarven capital. It was just me and Father, and I knew my chance had come. The night before, I took a banana into my room, and practiced in the mirror. The next evening, I put hooped earrings into my pointed ears, painted on dark eyeshadow, sheened my lips red, and did my light blonde hair up in pigtails. I found the night gown I’d worn as a child, and dawned it. It was a tight fit to say the least, the hem frilling just below the meeting of my thighs and the bodice clinging to my ample pale bust, but it more than sufficed. I was Daddy’s cute, innocent, little girl. I was ready.

I went to his chambers that night. He was sleeping naked on the bed, his cock standing at attention in his slumber. My breath was sporadic and heated, out of cadence with my accelerating heart. I traversed the bedroom on tiptoes, terrified, excited and aroused beyond description. I laid beside him, not waking him. My eyes once again fixated on his organ. It was fascinating. With immense trepidation and desire, I reached out, and poked it. My experimental touch yielded predictable results, for he bounced rigidly in the air. Emboldened, I clasped my hand around it. It was warm and hard, throbbing and pulsing with his heart. I exhaled a shuddering breath, closing my eyes to savor the alien texture of it. I remembered how he’d stroked his cock in the hallway, how it looked like it made him feel good. So, that’s what I did. I lubricated my hand with a glob of spit, and gently glided up and down his length. Father woke up, eyes clarifying and focusing on me.

“We can’t take this further. It’s wrong.” His voice was thick with sleep, and shaking. I didn’t listen to him. I kept stroking him while I stared into his eyes. He didn’t really want me to stop. He was just trying to convince himself he wasn’t a sick fuck who wanted his daughter. I enjoyed this new power I had over him, this ability to make him desire what disgusted him, to make him hate himself. I wanted him to hate himself. I wanted him to give in to me, to pass the point of redemption, to succumb to my power completely.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Daddy.” I lied sweetly to him, lowering my face, “It’s only wrong if people find out.”

My lips trembled even as they drooled, and I watched him, watched his face fall in despair as he realized he couldn’t stop me. He couldn’t stop himself. I wrapped my lips around his crease, and tasted the nectar that frothed at his apex, the fruit of the loins I’d been given life from. I grinned up at his horrified face; he was delicious. I ran my tongue along his underside, my lips traversing his length with sweet suction, taking him generously. He pressed against my throat, and I stopped. The moonlight shown across my face, and I wondered at the portrait it presented to him. For I was still so young; my skin perfect and unblemished, my face round with youth. From the neck up, I still looked very much like Daddy’s little girl, and his cock was halfway in his little girl’s virgin mouth. My pink nightgown slid down my hips, revealing the curves of my femininity, the succulent globes of my bare ass. Father was in stasis, staring stupidly at me. I slowly bobbed my head up and down, my lips drawing gently, savoring every gradient of him. He finally gave in, casting aside his pride and dignity. He grabbed my pigtails and forced my head down to his base. I gagged.

That’s right Daddy, you made your little girl gag on your cock. And she loved it. Daddy thrusted his cock down my esophagus, his self-loathing manifesting itself into sexual violence. He punished my throat for his own perversion, not heeding my gags and flails of protest. Daddy raped his little girl. And she loved it. I remember trying to push him away with one hand while my other hand worked frantically between my legs, fingers writhing within. His thick hot cock ravaged my soft wet throat, his pure rage and power taking over me. I succumbed to him. I opened my throat, and I accepted him for who he was, who I was. My platinum hair flailed wildly, my red lipstick smeared, my eyeshadow ran down my cheeks with tears of pain. I kept my lips tightly sealed around him. My hand stopped trying to push him away. I cupped his balls and caressed them lovingly while I played with myself. It’s alright Daddy, we both want this. There’s no shame in it. But there was shame in it, and that was what made it so good. I remember climaxing to the feeling of his pulsating cock blowing down my throat. He groaned as he filled me, his cum leaking from my lips, dribbling down my chin. He pulled out, and I looked up at him gratefully, and swallowed. There’s no going back now, Daddy. You’re mine.

Daddy turned over and said nothing. He wouldn’t look at me. I just smiled. I knew he would come back to me. The next day I positioned myself on the bed and started masturbating, bent over with my stockings pulled just above the knee. I heard his footstep down the hallway. He didn’t stop at the end of the hall this time. I began to moan louder as his steps grew closer. I could hear the urgency in his footfalls, just barely not a run. He must’ve been thinking about me all day. He knew I would do this, but he came anyway. He was mine now. He pressed against me from behind, his strong hands squeezing into the fat of my ass, fingers disappearing in the succulence. I whimpered. I’m just your innocent little girl, Daddy. I’ve never done anything like this before. Please be gentle.

He wasn’t gentle, and I didn’t want him to be. I wanted to feel his burning hunger, and I wanted him to sate my own with his self-hatred. You’re a sick fuck daddy, but so am I. We can be sick fucks together. His cock pushed all the way in. I lurched forward, a shriek erupting from my lips as he broke my chastity. I felt the blood ooze out from me, carried by the fluid of my desire. He didn’t give me a moment’s mercy. His breath was hot on my neck, his thrusts were unrelenting, I screamed and lurched, agony taking me. I pretended to try to get away. I wanted him to think I didn’t want it. I knew that’s what got him off. He wanted to think he had the power here, that he wasn’t so weak that he was seduced by his own daughter. I let him feel that power. I whimpered and cried my protests, but on the inside I was moaning like a whore, savoring every violent arc of pain and pleasure. Eventually I couldn’t pretend anymore. My false cries of terror turned to whines of delight, each one punctuated with a yelp as his pelvis slammed against my backside. He pushed my head into the bedding, and I bit the pillow, growling in pleasure. My back bowed, my ass elevated, my breasts flattened beneath me. I learned the fluid motions of a woman’s lust there, being taken like a bitch by my own father. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Fuck me, Daddy!” I cried pathetically. The guise of weak femininity only encouraged him. He took a grip of my hair and wrenched my head back, forcing me to look upside-down at his wrathful visage, which was blurred with my ecstatic tears. You’re in control, Daddy. You’re doing this to me. You’re giving me this pleasure. I’m powerless to stop you. Keep going, Daddy. The sweat glistened from my body as my breaths turned to pants. You’re making your daughter pant like a bitch, Daddy. His cock filled me to capacity, stretching me to the bottom. I’m so tight around you. I feel every inch! His balls swung into my clit, each slap a delight of sensation. I could feel my first penetrative orgasm coming. It was deep and aching, and it expanded, boiling through my body. My muscles contracted uncontrollably, my legs quivered and writhed together. I screamed my elation against the pillow as Daddy blew inside of me. Hot cum surged into my womb, seeped into my desecrated insides and leaked down my trembling thighs. Daddy pulled out, and I collapsed. He covered his mouth in horror, realization dawning in his eyes. He tried to turn to flee. Na-ah, Daddy; there’s no walking away from this one. I grabbed his hand and pull him back. He tore it free, not daring to look at me. I rose with the motion, cupped his face in my hands, and turned it to my own. Tears twinkled in his sapphire eyes, his lips trembled above his proud, stubbled chin. I guided him to the bed, and let him weep into my lap. He was a broken man, and it was time to put him back together again. Only once I was done fixing him, he’d be the man I needed him to be.

Over the course of a month, I transformed my father into this ideal man. I gave him a piece of his youth back. We’d sneak out of the castle like we were both horny teenagers, and we’d fuck in secluded places. I acted the part of the loyal daughter in public, but in private, I was the one in control. And every night I was with him, more and more of that control began to seep into our daily life. I was brought to diplomatic meetings and treated as an equal. I was twenty years away from my coronation, but I was already learning the craft of diplomacy. I made a fool of myself often, but learned from each little mistake. My father guided me along the way, teaching me the ins and outs of international politics. I was an avid student, soaking up every little piece of information I could find. Yavara was the son he never had, but I was the heir to his throne, and for the first time in my life, I felt like Father was happy with that.

But then Mother and Yavara came back. Mother took her place at father’s side, and Yavara quickly replaced me in his heart. I was broken. I had meticulously weaved my way into my father’s life, only to be immediately cast aside again. At ten years of age, Yavara won the bowmen’s tourney. She shot three arrows shaft-to-shaft-to-shaft into a bullseye that was two-hundred feet away. There was a feast in her honor, and she became the darling of the kingdom. That night I laid in my bed, and wept. I would always be the disappointment. Father would never recognize my potential. I couldn’t ride or shoot well, but I could maneuver my way through difficult social situations. I couldn’t run fast or throw a spear, but I could remember minute details of every conversation with every diplomat. I heard my father’s footsteps. He came into the room. I wasn’t in the mood. I needed a father now, not a lover. A gentle arm wrapped around me, and he pulled me close.

“Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?” He asked.

“I know you have.” I replied.

“Leveria,” He said, “you will be the ruler of The Highlands on your thirty-sixth birthday. Your life will grow in promise and power until you die, while Yavara’s will atrophy the moment she is married. All her potential, all her strength, it will all be wasted on a man. That is why your mother and I dote on her relentlessly, because she is a free spirit that will be caged, and we wish to squeeze every bit of happiness out of her last eight years of freedom.”

“Why will you force her to marry?” I asked, “Why not just let Yavara join the rangers, or the city watch?”

“You know the answer to that, Leveria.” Father smiled, “It’s politics. Yavara will grow to be a beautiful woman like yourself, and men will want her beauty and status. Now, my job is to figure out how I can use Yavara’s beauty and status to my advantage.”

“That’s cruel, Father.” I smiled.

“Cruelty,” Father said as he kissed my brow, “is not the same as pragmatism. It’s pragmatic, Leveria. You must learn to distinguish between the two when you are queen. The difference between you and Yavara is that one of you uses your head, and the other uses her heart. Everyone loves the person who uses their heart. Yavara is passionate, wild and extroverted. You are reserved, calculating and introverted. Which qualities do you think make a better leader?”

“My qualities?” I asked.

“Yes Leveria, you’re qualities. A ruler does not need the love of her subjects. You can rest assured that many people will wish Yavara was their queen once you are coronated. But through your cunning and tact, you will make their lives better day by day. Eventually they will grow comfortable under your rule, and with a few calculated displays of power and grandeur, they will learn to love you.”

“That’s not a very romantic picture.” I frowned.

“Neither of us are romantics, Leveria.” Father said. His hand moved to my hip, “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Yes.” I whispered as his hand slid between my thighs.

“I don’t love your mother. I never have. Trenaria Ternias was simply the daughter of Brakston Ternias, and his family’s power was second only to mine, so I married her. When you are of age, you will marry someone you do not love. But you will be like me, and not like your mother, and not like who Yavara will become.” My thighs grinded together around his wrist, and a moan escaped me as his fingers slipped inside. “No, Leveria,” Father whispered, “you will be the one in control. There is no greater feeling in the world than being the one who wields power. You lust after it, your sister will lust for it, but only you will own it.” My moans turned to gentle cries as Father’s hands manipulated me further. My head rolled on to his shoulder and my mouth fell agape, my eyes staring surrender into his. “That’s what sex is, Leveria, power.” Father growled, “It’s the physical manifestation of control. You’re reacting without your permission. I’m making your body feel good despite yourself. And you do it to me too. You made me fuck you, because it made you feel powerful to do it. Does my power feel good, Leveria?”

“Yes!” I gasped.

My legs spread for his invading fingers, and I pulled up my nightgown, exposing my naked adolescence to him; smooth flesh and blushing pussy lips, my nipples standing red and pert upon my heaving breasts. His lips wrapped around one node, sucking deliciously and pulling my breast outward. That’s right, Daddy, suck on your daughter’s tits. I wrapped my hands together around his head and arched my back, his defiling fingers triggering me to squirm in pleasure.

I rolled on top of Daddy and squatted down on his cock, taking him as whimpers turned to needful whines. Regaining my composure, I straddled across his pelvis and gyrated up and down, forward and back, my moans echoing through the room as his cock stretched my tight pussy. I grinded my pelvis downward, rubbing my clit against him in harmony with his thrusts. Daddy ran his hands under my night gown and gripped my breasts tightly, fingers lost in the succulence. I pulled my pink gown off over my shoulders, exposing the prizes his hands held. I took control of the sex, dictating the speed and force. I knew he wanted it hard and rough, so that’s what I gave him. I wanted it hard and rough too. I wanted him to need me more than anything, more than Yavara and more than Mother. He blasted his pelvis against me forcefully as I grinded against him with equal ferocity, the slapping of our flesh growing louder, the animalistic sounds of our mouths becoming more savage. My asscheeks clapped in fervent applause, wafting the pungent smell of sex into the air. I spread my legs into lateral splits, opening myself so that he could rail unheeded into my tight heat.

“Does Mommy ever do these things?” I moaned.

“Don’t talk about your mother!” He growled as he wrapped a hand around my throat.

“I bet she just lays there and takes it, doesn’t she?” I squeaked out defiantly, my arousal only increasing.

“I said don’t talk about your fucking mother!” Daddy slapped me hard across the face. I touched my hand to the stricken cheek, feeling a flush of newfound desire between my battered thighs. It seemed there was still something Daddy hadn’t given to me.

“I bet you Mommy doesn’t fuck you like this.” I grinned as I gyrated aggressively on top of him, my body an undulating wave from pubis to shoulders, my belly flexing and stretching. Daddy moaned involuntarily, driving with abandon into my clenching insides, breaching through my tightness to find the tender depths within. Through my haze of pleasure, my unfocused eyes rested on his parted lips. It hadn’t been lost on me that during our month of lust, Daddy never kissed me. It was the last piece of intimacy he kept for Mother. Maybe it was the last shred of dignity he had left in him. He’d fuck his daughter, but he wouldn’t love her as a woman. It was time to change that.

I leaned forward, my tongue poking between parted, red lips. My face was met with his palm, the smell of my pussy still fresh on his fingers. I giggled. You can’t hold out forever, Daddy. I licked his hand seductively, tickling the lines of his palm, promising what was in store for him if he just gave in. He pushed harder against my face, my body wrenching backward, my spine curving painfully as he continued to pump relentlessly between my split legs. I sustained the motion of my hips despite his physical protest, stirring his cock about my tight lips, feeling him press along every surface of my innards. I heard him groan again, I felt him succumb to the lassitude of my lust. I pulled his hand away from my face, staring promisingly into his stricken eyes.

“I bet Mommy never let you fuck her in the ass.” I whispered, my mouth panting my excitement. Daddy’s defenses faltered. I got him. “Do you want to fuck your daughter in the ass, Daddy?” I asked as my hands traced up his chest. I leaned in, my breasts pressing against him, my legs still spread in the splits. I brought my face inches from his own. “I don’t think I’d like it; I heard it hurts. Do you want to hurt me?” I asked innocently, running my fingers through his hair. “I’ll let you hurt me, Daddy,” I whispered, “I’ll let you break my little asshole open. I just want you to do one thing in return. I want you to kiss me like you kiss Mommy. I want you to kiss me like you kissed her back when you still had the passion to care. If you do that for me Daddy, I’ll let you fuck my tight, little asshole.”

The conflict was etched across my father’s face. I needed something to push him over the edge. I pulled myself off him, his hard cock slipping from me. I ached to have him back inside, and nearly whined with the regret of it, but I held fast. This was a power move, and I had heeded my father’s advice: sex was about power, and the person who needed it the least, had the most power. But my god, it was difficult. Even as I watched him, my hips shifted with unfulfilled want, and my thighs rubbed wetly, craving what was no longer between them. My father’s lip twitched. He moved his head forward. I win.

I pushed my lips against him, tasting his breath, feeling my heart race. I’d never been kissed before, and wasn’t exactly sure how to go about initiating it. Father slid his tongue between my lips and teased my own. I extended my tongue to him and shyly probed his. He curled over me, wetly entangling our members, tickling the excited nerves there. I had to suppress a giggle, and curved my lips against his, my heart lightening in my chest. Daddy’s kissing me! Our lips sucked gently against as our tongues engaged in a lustful dance, wriggling and exploring, a language unto its own. I felt closer to him than I’d ever felt before. I felt the love, yes, and I felt the power. For I’d stolen the last piece of him from my mother, and maybe the last piece of himself.

I moaned regretfully when he pulled from the kiss, my lips searching blindly for his. When I opened my eyes, I saw a face that was wild with hatred. “A promise is a promise, Leveria.” He hissed, “Get on your knees.”

I got off the bed and bent over against the bed frame, my hands gripping the bars tightly as I braced myself. Daddy came up from behind me and kicked one of my legs to the side, parting my thighs. His hands gripped my cheeks and spread me open. I heard him spit, then I felt the glob splatter on my tailbone, drool between my cheeks, and pool about my puckered rim. I shuddered. All other escapades with my father, I’d prepared for beforehand, but I had no preparation for this. I was improvising, and the lack of control terrified me. My body trembled as I braced for his intrusion. Leveria, what the fuck were you thinking?! His tip pressed against me. I stiffened. He pushed forward, applying more and more pressure, dilating my last virgin orifice until my pelvic floor was pressed into my body. I gritted my teeth, hissing and closing my eyes, my knuckles white against the bars I grasped for dear life. He broke through. A screech erupted from my lips, my pitch rising as I felt my father tear through every resistance of my rectum. My knees buckled, my heels gave way, my straightened legs slid pathetically to the sides as his pelvis pressed against my ass. He was all the way in, his terrible hardness opening what was not meant to be opened, touching what was not meant to be touched. I held myself limply against the bars while he retreated from me, praying that he hated the feeling almost as much as I did. But that was not the case. He gripped my cheeks tighter and rammed his length into me harder than before. I choked out another cry, certain that my insides were tearing, certain that the damage was permanent.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t Leveria?!” Daddy yelled as he thrust again, “You wanted me to hurt you, didn’t you?!”

“Stop Daddy, please stop!” I cried.

“The first lesson in diplomacy, Leveria,” Father grunted as he pushed in again, forcing my upper body to press against the bars of my bed, my breasts squishing between them, “Is to always keep your word, and never back down from a promise.”

“I’m sorry I made you kiss me, Daddy! Just stop!” I squealed pathetically.

Daddy drove in again, heedless of my pleas. “The second lesson in diplomacy,” Father gritted as he withdrew, “is always know your place in the hierarchy. It seems you haven’t learned that one yet.”

“I know my place! I’ll never challenge you again! Daddy stop, it hurts! It hurts!” My screams were frantic in terror and pain.

Father pushed in again, my face now pressed painfully against the bars. “And the third and final lesson of tonight, is that accepting the consequence of your decisions can be painful, but it is NECESSARY-” Father roared as he thrust in again, “-to learn from the mistakes you have made. What have you learned tonight Leveria?”

“Keep my word, know my place, and learn from my mistakes!” I cried in agony.

“You’re just repeating what I said, Leveria.” Father taunted as he pushed into me faster and faster. My glutes shook violently with every thrust, the skin growing red against his pelvis. I frantically searched my mind for the answer to his question, but my train of thought was constantly interrupted by shocks of pain.

“You’re nothing but a sadistic old man who fucks his daughter! You’re trash!” I screamed angrily as tears streaked down my face.

“And you’re nothing but a little slut,” Father said, slapping my ass, “who begs for her father’s cock because she’s jealous of her sister.”

“You can’t get any from Mom, so you come over and fuck your daughter! You’re a sick piece of shit!” I screamed between the bars as my face was pressed into my bedframe.

“I am, Leveria,” Father said solemnly, “but I’m not nearly as twisted as you are. Now what have you learned?”

“I fucking hate you!” I sobbed, the pain so excruciating I was thrashing, my hips writhing at the apex of my bridged legs. His strong arms subdued me, locking my pelvis in a bent position, exaggerating the obtuse angle of spine to press my torso completely against the bedframe.

“What have you learned, Leveria?!” Father roared, his thrusts growing more powerful. In and out, in and out; he was brutally repetitive, grinding over the flesh he’d already rendered raw, piercing my most vile depths. The pain overwhelmed me, my resistances fell, and I surrendered wholly to my agony. Through the dissipating red haze, I found an odd peace, and in that, I found my faculties.

Keep my word, know my place, and learn from my mistakes. What is the connection here? I started to feel a tingling sensation in my defiled rim. It sounds like the answer might be ‘duty’ but father never preached compliance before. My tight walls clung tenderly around Father, smooth and fluttering with dull sensation. I suppose the answer isn’t ‘honor.’ A deep pleasure began to rise from my nethers. Maybe it’s ‘discipline?’ My screeches of pain had subsided. Could it be ‘observance?’ The pleasure blossomed within me, alien and perverse, terrible like our love. Through a place where no delight should ever be begotten, I found joy. Maybe it’s… uhhh… My thoughts ebbed and flowed, dulling against the sharpness of my ecstasy. For it was ecstasy now, as assuredly as it had been agony before. My pussy began to flow with new arousal, coerced to salivate from the wrong side. My sphincter relaxed to welcome the intrusion, my walls greedily consumed every inch they could, my moans began to ascend to lecherous cries.

“Do you like your daddy’s cock in your ass?” Father ridiculed.

“Yes.” I whimpered.

“I can’t hear you, Leveria!”

“Yes!” I cried as my bedframe shook with the power of my father’s thrusts, “Yes Daddy! Keep fucking my little shithole!”

I gritted my teeth against the waves that wracked my body, one after the other, each one worse than the last. My head fell backward, completing the exaggerated bow of my back, and I stared rapturously at the man who forced such awful delights so deep within, the man would had begotten me life, now ravaging my body and mind. I mouthed stupidly at him, the words lost to me, my lips only yielding dripping saliva as they hung agape. The waves were continuous now, no longer crashing within me, but building, building; a torrent of euphoria and pain, so sweet, so horribly sweet! It coursed through me, electrifying every nerve and neuron, sending me shrieking into insanity. My eyes widened, my knuckles cracked, my ass shot backward, and I buried his cock deep, deep within my filth. With a soundless gasp, I finally came. I pitched forward, pressing against the bedframe, my open mouth breathing against one brass bar, by tongue licking it. Father shook behind me, and with a final cathartic roar, he emptied himself into my bowels. His breath was on the back of my neck, lending air to the hair that plastered my scalp. He withdrew from me, and I felt a draft where I’d been left gaping. Such was my ruination, and such was my satisfaction. I fell to my knees, my legs sapped of strength, and I opened my mouth to worship at the altar of Father. I did it without thinking, and only came to the realization when I tasted the concoction of his cum and my anal tang. In my depraved mindset, it was delicious. I swallowed it and looked up at him thankfully, my lips parted and smiling, my hooped earrings dangling from my pointed ears. Father caressed my cheek.

“What have you learned, Leveria?” he asked.

“That I like it in the ass.” I giggled.

“The lesson, Leveria,” Father smiled down at me, “is that power comes only to those who are patient. And you my dear, are very impatient.”

“Can you teach me another lesson tomorrow?” I asked eagerly.

“Every night, Leveria.” Father smiled. I had him completely wrapped around my finger now.

Over the next few years, my father taught me all knew of statecraft. As my teen years came to a close, I began to worry that my impurity would lower my marital options. Father assured me that being the heir to the throne would surmount all other factors, including the elven custom of a virgin bride. My story would be simple: I was drunk, young and foolish. Father and I had meticulously planned which match would best suit my political needs. The Noble Court consisted of ten great houses, each with legitimate blood ties to the throne: Ternias, Feltian, Xantian, Jonias, Feractian, Huntiata, Straltaira, Droughtius, Shordian and of course, Tiadoa. Since I already had Ternias blood in my veins by grace of my mother, we decided on Lord Eric Shordian, whose family was the sixth-richest of the lot, but had deep ties to the military, thereby ensuring the loyalty of the armed forces, and more importantly, preventing any chance of one of the other houses organizing a military coup. Oh, Eric was a good enough man; he was handsome and stupid, and his cock stood up straight when I needed it, but even he knew he was but a tool. Even so, he was useful one, for Eric was friendly and compassionate, and lent a congenial touch to our pairing that I could not bring myself. He was more than content with being the host of our royal parties while I played my power games in smoky back rooms. It was a loveless marriage, but a good one, though it hardly started out that way. For on my wedding day, the straps of my dress snapped, and the garment fell from my body, exposing my near-nakedness to the kingdom. It was embarrassing, but the lessons my father taught me allowed me to escape the awkward situation with dignity and grace. I suspected Yavara had sabotaged my straps, but I didn’t have the proof to bring it forward. So, I let it fester on my mountain of hatred, and I bided my time. For Father had taught me patience.

Over the years, I laid down a foundation of alliances. I met with the right people, I made the right contacts, and I wove a web of resources from which I could draw from. I visited Father on a weekly basis, stealing a few hours of passion before we plotted my next move. Despite our continued relationship, I noticed Father growing distant from me. For as Yavara aged, she took over the spotlight once again. She became more beautiful than any woman in the kingdom, and Father noticed her beauty. I grew jealous. One night I confronted Father. He assured me that he didn’t see Yavara in the same way he saw me. I didn’t believe him. Using my contacts in the rangers, I set up a deal with an orc tribe of The Maples. Yavara was going on a hunting trip with her dyke friend, Elena. I didn’t know until too late that Father had gone with her. A platoon of orcs ambushed them both, and for the first time in my life, I was glad Yavara was alive. She killed the attackers, and once again became the darling of the nation. Father praised and doted upon her like never before, and I once again became the supporting character in her story. I begrudgingly accepted my place in my father’s eyes, waiting for the day when I could convince him to marry Yavara off to some abusive husband with enough wealth and titles to satisfy the crown.

And then she went missing. I could not hide my glee when I thought of the violations and torments she must’ve suffered in The Great Forest. Father was less than impressed with my mirth. I decided then that I would be the one to bring her in, and prove that my love for Father was greater than my hatred for his daughter. I received the message from Elena that Zander Fredeon and Brock Terdini were holding her in Ardeni Dreus. I never liked the sway Zander Fredeon held in the Noble Court. Removing him before my reign began would be a nice bonus, and putting King Dreus in a political stranglehold would be even sweeter. I sent out an elite team to rescue my sister. That failed miserably, but from failure, came even greater opportunity. Not just the ruination of my traitorous sister, nor her fall from grace in my father’s eyes, but the future of my realm. For what opportunity yields better fruits than war? The Great Forest, the long-uncivilized and untaxable vassal of The Highlands, would rise against its master. No monarch in a thousand years had dared invade the arborous Midlands, and indeed, the Noble Court would never sanction such a costly gamble. But now… now things were different. It wasn’t The Great Forest anymore, but Alkandra. Destiny was in my grasp, and there was only one stupid, weak old bitch in my way.

“Don’t listen to her, Clartias!” Mother hissed at Father, “She’s trying to push us to war!”

“War is the only option, Father,” I whispered, “Yavara is already backing us into a corner diplomatically. Do you think she’s going to stop? She’s buying time because she’s weak right now. She is weak, and we are powerful, and she knows that. Every second we wait, the scales of power tip in her favor. Do we keep waiting, Father?”

Father agonized over the dilemma. He cocked his head to one side and then the other, as if two halves of him were arguing in his mind. Were it any other elf, Father wouldn’t hesitate to act swiftly and strongly. But this was his precious Yavara.

“Clartias,” Mother said, “Yavara would never attack her own people. Do you honestly believe Leveria? Yavara is just doing everything she can to stay alive. We need to speak with her, Clartias. We need to give her a chance before we move forward.”

Father brought his hand down on his knee and stood up. “Your mother is right, Leveria. We need to speak with Yavara before we act. I cannot -I will not– believe that Yavara means her people harm.”

But we’re not her people, Father, and deep down, you know that. I thought, Alkandi was cunning a thousand years ago, and it seems she hasn’t lost her edge. She’s already spun a rescue mission into an assassination attempt and gained sovereign recognition by the humans in doing so. She has an orc tribe leader at her side, and she will use him to unite the clans into an army. She’s turned the very man who destroyed her, Zander Fredeon, into her protector. She will raise an army, and she will invade.

I didn’t vocalize my thoughts, knowing that my father’s decision was final. Had mother not been there, I might have swayed him to my side, but she played off his love for Yavara. I knew that the moment Yavara spoke with Father, all hope of a preemptive strike would fail. She would prey on his love like a parasite, and he would delay, delay, delay, until it was too late. I could not let him speak with her, and I needed Mother gone so that my voice was the only one he heard. I looked at Trenaria Tiadoa, studying her delicate, beautiful face, now pallid with worry and pinched with contempt. But there was something else, something behind her sapphire eyes. A secret. There had to be a reason the Dark Queen reincarnated from her womb.

I left my parents and went directly to the temple. I had made Headmaster Glendian a confidante of mine, mostly through blackmail. Glendian had a weakness for men, and I promised not to tell of his escapades if he divulged information with me, and me alone.

I knocked on his chamber doors. A young male elf answered the door, a pillow concealing his crotch.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” He asked, shifting uneasily.

“I’m here to see Glendian.”

“Headmaster Glendian is not here, I’m only here to keep his quarters clean.” He responded.

“She already knows, Brecktian. Let her in.” Glendian’s voice said from behind the door.

Brecktian clothed himself and left before I walked into Glendian’s chambers. The old man was half naked on the bed, not bothering to make himself presentable in front of royalty. He was a spiteful bastard, and no doubt considered his disrespect to be a proud act of defiance. I didn’t care.

“Why are you here?” He asked.

“Your boys seem to get younger with each passing day, Glendian. Are you hoping to steal some of their youth as you age?” I sneered.

“I like to think I’m performing a service for them.” He replied, “They’re young and scared of who they are; they need an authority figure to tell them they’re not sick.”

“Ah, yes.” I laughed, “You’re doing the for purely selfless reasons. What a charitable man you are, Headmaster, to so freely deposit your seed.”

“You will never understand the strife of being a gay man!” Glendian said firmly, “Knowing that you can never express yourself in public, knowing that any love you have will be looked on as disgusting and unnatural. I was that boy once. I wished I had someone like myself to tell me that I wasn’t a freak; someone powerful to tell me that they were just like me, and that I could lead the life I wanted. You never knew this pain, Leveria, so don’t for a moment mock it or question me.”

I smiled back at the old man, empathizing with him completely. He would never know how much he and I had in common in this regard.

“So, I’ll ask again, Leveria, why have you come?” He growled.

“It’s about Yavara.”

“Of course, it is,” Glendian sighed, “I will not send more mages to their deaths unless your father sanctions it first. You can tell the whole kingdom I like men.”

“That’s very noble of you, but I came here on another matter.”

“And what would that be?”

“Yavara’s revelation has stirred rumors of past high-elves that turned dark.” I gave Glendian a meaningful look, “I’d like to know if there’s credence to these rumors.”

Glendian stood up and walked over to a large bookshelf. He pulled out a dusty volume and opened it on the bed, the pages flipping autonomously. “This is the journal of Headmaster Drourian during the reign of King Vintian Ternias. It appears that a young woman began to gain features of a dark-elf and booked passage to Ardeni. Drourian writes that he believed it to be a disease, but then one of our men in Ardeni reported seeing a dark-elf with orange eyes running a brothel there. King Vintian Ternias disregarded the claim, and decided the woman was harmless as she was, and didn’t press the issue further. Drourian concluded that the woman in question was either a dark-elf who slipped through the cracks, or a high-elf with an unfortunate pigment condition.”

“Orange eyes. That sounds like Alkandi to me.” I said.

“I would’ve said it was impossible just yesterday.” Glendian shrugged, “Now, who knows?”

“What was the girl’s name?” I asked.

“Rheyari, no last name is listed.”

“Could we find her in the census?”

Glendian and I walked down the stairs from his chamber to the temple library. Glendian raised his hands above his head and said “Rheyari, census, years five-hundred to five-hundred-fifty.” A book flew from across the room and landed on the table in front of us before opening itself, and turning to the page we needed.

“Here she is: Rheyari Cleatan.” Glendian said.

“And her mother?” I asked.

“Etonia Cleatan.” Glendian said as he scrolled through the text.

“Search for her.”

Glendian called out the name, “Etonia Cleatan.” A book flew across the room and landed on top of the census. It also opened to the page we needed.

“That’s curious.” Glendian mumbled.

“What?” I asked.

“This is the constable’s report from five-seventy-one.” Glendian said as he adjusted his spectacles, “It appears Etonia Cleatan was murdered by her husband. He claimed to have caught her sleeping with a faun. No other reference of Etonia nor Rheyari has been recorded, save for Etonia’s census information.”

“That is curious,” I replied, puzzling over the information, “Glendian, can you find the names of the other elves who turned dark?”

“I’ve already looked.” Glendian said wearily, “It was the first thing I did when I heard of Yavara’s fate, hence why I had Drourian’s journal at hand. One instance based on a rumor hardly makes a pattern.”

I tapped my lips. “Missing persons. If there were other instances, the women would surely flee. Cross-reference missing girls, adolescent girls, with…” I pondered the grains of the table, recalling how Yavara had disguised herself, “…human girls of a similar demographic exiting border customs.”

“There are hundreds of border crossings between The Great Forest and The Highlands every day. What am I supposed to look for? Tan human girl between the ages of thirteen and nineteen, having crossed within a two-week period of a high-elf maiden’s disappearance?” Glendian scoffed at me.

“Having crossed with the aid of Zander Fredeon.” I said, letting my lip corner in a smile. Glendian’s eyebrows rose. We searched the library for hours until we had five other names, all candidates who fit my criteria near perfectly. Unfortunately, learning that Zander had been a traitor for hundreds of years wasn’t valuable information anymore, and that was really all that I’d revealed. Zander had escorted at least six dark-elves out of The Highlands, though I couldn’t prove they were dark-elves, much less that they’d once been high-elves, and even lesser that they were Alkandi incarnations.

“Glendian, search for the names of all of their mothers.” I ordered.

“It’s well past midnight, and I’m fucking exhausted.” Glendian groaned, “I don’t know what you’re trying to find, Leveria, but I can’t help you unless you tell me.”

“I don’t need to explain myself, Glendian!” I snapped, “Just do as you’re told!”

Glendian glared at me, but complied. Two hours later we had collected the names of all the mothers.

“Trikaraia Brondo.” Glendian called out the name of one of the mothers. A book flew from across the room and opened its page to us.

“It appears Mrs. Brondo ran off with a band of goblins.” Glendian said tiredly.

“Give me the next one.” I replied as a theory formed in my head.

“Satara Dernsi.” The book flew onto the table and opened to us, “Found alive and unharmed in a centaur camp. Died of natural causes in seven-fifty-nine.”

“Give me the next one.”

“Fistina Giteren, reported missing summer of eight-twenty-seven, returned from The Great Forest in the spring of eight-twenty-eight, died of childbirth winter of eight-twenty-nine.”

“Give me the next one.”

“Jalrara Bickterno, ran off to the Great Forest in nine-forty-five, found sixteen years later after a raid on the Dractali orc tribe. Appeared not to be a captive, wept over the corpse of her ‘orc husband.’” Glendian’s voice began to shake, “A mummified corpse was found lying on an altar within the encampment. It appeared to have been a high-blooded elf, though her hair was black, and in place of her eyes, were orange gems laden in the sockets. The body was burned, the orcs were slaughtered, and the mother was executed on the spot.”

My heart beat hard in my chest, swelling with glee as a smile spread across my face.

“Leveria,” Glendian whispered, his voice shaking, “Your mother…”

“I know.” I said, my grin near to aching.

“King Tiadoa must never hear of this! I will not be responsible for the queen’s execution!”

“I am your queen now, Glendian,” I smiled as I stood over him, “Trenaria Tiadoa is a whore who slept with enemies of the state to beget a demon. You will bring this information to him first thing tomorrow morning. You will give him all the evidence we have collected, and you will be rewarded handsomely for your service to the king.”

“I will not! You can tell the entire kingdom of my homosexuality; I will not have the queen’s death on my hands!”

“Oh, Glendian!” I laughed as I pet his bald head, “You’re not going to be outed as a faggot; you’re going to be outed as a traitor. If you do not do as I ask, exactly as I ask it, I will give father this information. I will tell him you tried to hide it from him. I will tell him you purposefully sabotaged the rescue mission so that Yavara could discredit him. I will tell him you conspired with the queen and Yavara to dethrone him, and he’ll believe me. Once I present him with this shred of truth, all the lies I tell after will be validated in his eyes. Queen Trenaria Tiadoa might be put to the noose, but you, old man, you’ll die slow. And I’ll make sure that all those poor boys you’ve been fucking will die as your accomplices.” I was almost kissing him, I was so close, “I’ll make you watch as they are unmanned, dismembered, disemboweled and skinned alive. I will make sure they know who is to blame for their fates. The last thing you will ever see before your eyes are carved out, will be their faces, removed of skin, removed of hope, only hatred and horror staring back at you. I wonder then, if they’ll thank you for your… service.”

I could see the fear writhing behind Glendian’s eyes. He knew I wasn’t one to bluff. He bowed his head. He obeyed. I caressed his cheek and brought his tearful eyes to mine.

“Here’s what I want you to do…”

The next day I sat down with Mother and Father in the communications room. I was giddy with excitement, and had to consciously calm myself to keep from drawing suspicion. Father and Mother had been talking with King Dreus through the enchanted mirror when I walked in.

“…why can’t we speak with Yavara now?” Father asked.

“She’s on a diplomatic mission.” King Dreus responded.

“Oh?” I asked, “And who is she meeting with?”

“Nice try, Princess.” King Dreus laughed.

“You can’t blame a girl for trying.” I smiled back.

“And Head-ranger Adarian,” Mother cut in, “he will be released?”

“I will give you Adarian as a sign of goodwill, Queen Tiadoa, but the others will hang; the people demand it.”

“Thank you, King Dreus.” I said, “Have him travel to us by portal. We need him now.”

A knock thundered on the door, drawing the swift attention of everyone in the room. My heart leapt in my chest. This was it.

“My King,” Glendian shouted from behind the door, “I have an important matter I must discuss with you immediately!”

“I am sorry, King Dreus, we will continue this conversation later.” Father said as he pressed his hand to the mirror, causing King Dreus’ visage to disappear. Father opened the door and let in Headmaster Glendian and five members of the king’s guard, all armored to the hilt.

“Headmaster Glendian, what is the meaning of this?” Father demanded, “Why are the king’s guard with you in full-plate?”

“It’s for your own protection my lord, I have come across information that is of vital importance. Queen Tiadoa, please step three paces back from the king, and place your arms behind your back.” Glendian commanded. The kings guard approached Mother, whose face was a masterpiece of confusion. Father regained his faculties before she did, and stepped before the advancing guards.

“Stand down!” Father roared at the king’s guard before turning back to Glendian, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“My king,” Glendian said as boldly as he could, “I have come across information that leads me to believe Queen Trenaria Tiadoa has conspired against the crown.”

“Liar!” I cried, trying to sound as outraged as possible.

“You must be mistaken, Headmaster Glendian.” Mother said shakenly, “I have always been a loyal wife and queen. Show us your evidence, and I will surely be able to refute it, and lay this issue to rest.” I could see the pain behind Glendian’s eyes, that horrible, pitiable look of someone who is watching the damned. To his credit, he did not reveal any of it elsewhere on his face.

“Glendian,” Father growled, “This action is treason! I will throw you from the tower for this!”

“You may, my king,” Glendian said solemnly, “but hear me out before you do.”

“I will not indulge your conspiracy theories!”

“Hear him out.” Mother said, regaining her composure, “My loyalty will only be proven stronger by these falsehoods.”

“Mother, don’t…” I said pleadingly. I knew she would take my protest as a challenge to her credibility.

“Clartias,” Mother said confidently, “Headmaster Glendian has always been a faithful servant of the crown. He is surely mistaken, and should not be punished for doing what he thinks is right. Allow him to speak, and we will cast aside this momentary fault of judgement.”

“Proceed, Glendian.” Father hissed through gritted teeth.

“My king,” Glendian said as he laid out the books, “These texts are from the temple library. They are each adorned with a seal that prevents their alteration; these texts are true to the letter. Once news of Yavara’s transformation reached my ear, I went directly to the library to investigate the cause of it. Look here, there have been six documented transformations of high-elf to dark-elf, evidenced by cross-referencing census information with immigration documents. The known traitor, Zander Fredeon, appears six times, each time with a woman between the ages of thirteen and nineteen, each of tan complexion and black hair. These border crossings…” Glendian gestured to the constable’s texts, “…correlate directly with missing persons reports of elven girls in the exact same demographic.”

“You are saying that Zander Fredeon has been a traitor for some time.” Father said, barely containing his rage.

“For at least five-hundred years, perhaps longer.” Glendian nodded.

“And these girls he took across the border; you believe they were like Yavara?”

“They were most likely incarnations of Alkandi, yes.” Glendian showed Father the report of the mummified girl, “What became of the others, I do not know.”

“Get to the fucking point, Glendian.” Father growled.

“I was curious as to why these transformations occurred,” Glendian explained. He cleared his throat nervously. “I hypothesized that it might have something to do with the pregnancy of the host mother.”

Father and I both looked over at Mother, who’s face remained stoic.

“And what does this have to do with me, Headmaster?” Mother asked, walking right into my trap.

“These constable reports are also of missing women, but not of the girls themselves, but of their mothers.” Glendian said as he ruffled through his annotated pages, “I cross-referenced the names of each mother from the census with the constable reports. Every single mother on this list, every single one, was either caught fornicating with beasts, or implied to have been. That’s six mothers of Alkandi, all of whom laid with monsters, none of whom were raped.”

I savored the moment, the perfect stillness where the words hung like noose ropes in the air. I felt Mother shaking beside me, and I looked up at her. Oh, the guilt. It was written across her fear-stricken face like a tapestry. Mother was a good, honest woman, and it was going to cost her everything. And more.

“That’s not all, my king.” Glendian continued, now telling the lie that would seal Mother’s fate, “The reason I concluded that the pregnancy of these elves was the cause of the reincarnation, was because nineteen years ago, Queen Tiadoa came to my office and requested these very texts.”

“He’s lying!” Mother cried. Father ignored her, and beckoned Glendian to continue.

“I assumed she was looking through the census books for ancestral information.” Glendian lied, “It was only last night, when I was pouring over these books, that I realized I had read them before. Nineteen years ago, Queen Tiadoa learned that the womb of an Alkandi mother must be prepared with the seed of a beast. Nine months after that, Princess Yavara was born.”

Mother was speechless. Her body shook with fear, her hands trembling so frantically against the chair she was leaning on that it rattled against the ground. Father gazed at her, tears welling in his eyes.

“Trenaria, is this true?” He whispered it. Mother didn’t answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but it did not yield words. Father grasped mother’s face between his hands, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Trenaria, you need to answer me.” Father said, such kindness in his eyes, but I saw the mask for it was.

“I…” Mother stuttered, “I… when I was… nineteen years ago, I found a wounded incubus on the side of the road. He was in his natural form. He was dying, and I pitied him. I brought him back to health, and he disappeared into the forest. That night, he came back. He said he wanted to thank me. He turned to a form I couldn’t deny… it was a moment of weakness, Clartias, you must believe me! I never acted against you!”

Mother sobbed into her husband’s chest. Father held her there, his hands rubbing against her back comfortingly. For a moment, I feared that my father would forgive her, that he could see the truth in her story and the lies in Glendian’s. But then Father grabbed a fistful of mother’s hair and forced her neck to snap back violently.

“How can I believe you Trenaria?” Father whispered as his other hand closed around her throat, “How can I believe a fucking word that comes from your lips?”

“Clartias!” Mother gasped as her face turned purple.

“You betrayed me!” Father hissed, tears of rage streaking down his cheeks, “You gave me Yavara. You watched as she played on my heart, as she became everything I ever wanted. The whole time you knew… you knew what she was, and so did she, didn’t she?”

“No!” Mother choked out, trying to pull herself away.

Father’s pained whispers turned to screams, his strangling hand squeezed until the knuckles were white. “How long have you two been planning this? How long have you been waiting for her to march on my walls while I pathetically bought every one of her lies? Would you have slit my throat and thrown open the gates to her? Would you have dined with the beasts in my halls? Would you have fucked them atop my corpse? How long have you hated me?!”

“Father, stop!” I screamed. As much as I would have loved to see Father strangle Mother to death, I needed Mother to be formally executed by the state. I needed the whole kingdom to know that Mother and Yavara had plotted to take over The Highlands ever since Yavara could talk. Father let go of Mother, her body dropping in a heap on the floor. She choked and gasped on her knees, her beautiful, crumpled form shaking with horror. Had she pissed herself? I couldn’t tell. I hoped so. Father walked away without a look back at her, each footfall ringing his condemnation.

“Take her to the dungeon.” He muttered as he collapsed into his chair.

“Clartias!” Mother screamed as the guards pulled her up, “Clartias, don’t do this! Clartias! Clartias, I’m your wife! I’m the mother of your children!”

“You’re the mother of two children, Trenaria, but only one of them is mine.” Father said plainly as he watched his wife being dragged away. Mother’s shrieks echoed through the room and down the hall, fading with each passing second until they were gone. Glendian stood in the doorway and looked at me, his eyes narrowing in hatred. I smiled at the old man, and slammed the door in his face.

“Father?” I asked gently as I turned to him. He stared vacantly at the wall, his hand hovering over his brow.

“You were right, Leveria.” He whispered hoarsely, “You were right about Yavara the whole time.”

“Don’t punish yourself.” I said as I walked to him, “Yavara knew exactly how to manipulate you. You can’t blame yourself for being a loving father.”

“Trenaria… how could she?”

“You once told me that you never loved Mother.” I said as I sat on his lap, “it’s more than likely that she never loved you either. You used each other.”

“All those years,” He said, laying his head into my bosom, “Twenty-four years of marriage, and the whole time she was plotting my downfall. I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“‘Power comes to those who are patient,’ that was a lesson you taught me once. Mother was patient with her reveal. She wasn’t going to show you her hand until the knife was in your throat.” I said as I stroked my father’s hair.

“Yavara, Trenaria…” Father began to weep, “My whole world is collapsing around me! Everyone I’ve loved or cared for has betrayed me!”

“Not I, Father.” I whispered, “I have always been loyal. I was there for you when Yavara was the only daughter you cared for. I was there for you when you were at your lowest. I’ve been here for you, Father, whether you cared for me or not. I have always loved you with all my heart.”

I shifted myself onto his lap until I was straddled across him. I brought my face to within inches to his own.

“And now that the liars and deceivers are out in the open, only I remain. Only me, Father. You’re all I have in this world, and I’m all you’ll have. And I’m yours, forever.”

I leaned in, and pressed my lips against his. I parted his closed mouth and slid my tongue into him. Father’s hands wandered to my backside. He gripped the fabric of my dress and pulled it over my hips. My exposed womanhood was wet and ready. I pushed the straps of my dress off my shoulders and let it fall to my hips. My hand searched between his legs until I felt his standing cock. I pulled his manhood from his pants and stroked it against my pelvis, moaning into his mouth with tender need. I lifted myself from his lap and rested my drooling slit atop the tantalizing point of him. I parted from his kiss as I let my body fall onto his lap, spearing myself willingly. A satisfied groan escaped both our lips as I was penetrated fully, his balls squishing against my ass. I gyrated sensually, looking deeply into his eyes, my mouth vocalizing soft pleasures, full of love. Father slid my dress from my shoulders, exposing the perfect slope of my breasts with the fluttering fabric. He wrapped his lips around one of my nipples and sucked. I moaned my approval, linking my hands around his head and bringing him closer. I felt the change in him, the grief turning to rage. I smiled into his hair. My movements became more impassioned, my hips grinding into him harder. Father gripped my ass and lifted us both out of the chair. He pressed me against a wall and thrust into me like a man possessed. I cried my delight at his fervency, his drives pushing me roughly against the wall, my legs locked ardently around him. I’m here for you, Daddy. Work all your pain and suffering into me. I want to feel your hurt.

His mouth kept working my nipple, sucking fiercely as though he were trying to draw milk from my breast. I relished his passion, the feeling of his girth stretching me open with his rapid thrusts. My dress was drenched in my juices, my pussy frothing and leaking down my taint. Daddy pulled me off the wall and guided me backwards into the chair. I spread my legs and held them open by the thighs as he drove into me. My breasts bounced violently, my abdomen flexed in convulsions, my impassioned cries turned hoarse. Daddy took hold of my knees and spread my legs painfully apart, leaving me exposed and vulnerable for his relentless attack. My hands left my thighs, one moving to my cheek to trail a pinky over my gaping astonished lips, the other lending fingers to work my clit into a frenzy. God, did he fuck me. He fucked me like a bull, his breaths hot and labored, his cock trying to split me down the middle. Our collusions were ferocious, and the ecstasy they wrought was even worse. My cries turned to escalating whines, turned to panting screams. I closed my eyes tightly, my mouth gaping, my face flushing with the exertion of pleasure too great to contain.

“Daddy!” I screeched, “Come in my pussy!”

He did, roaring with cathartic rage and release as he filled me to the brim. I sputtered and sobbed, a slave to the feeling, bending and writhing to the whims of it. My back arched, my head pressed into the cushions, breathless gasps spilled from my mouth as my eyes rolled into my head. My body twitched the last throes of my climax while Daddy’s seed seeped into my cunt. He collapsed on top of me, his warm body pressing against my own. I ran my fingers through his hair, keeping my pelvis pointed upward, trying to get every drop of him into my womb.

“Daddy,” I whispered, “You’re going to be a father.”

“What?” Daddy looked up at me in shock.

I just smiled and nodded. “I will bear you a child of pure royal blood. He will be a son; I can feel it. And every time you look into his eyes, you will see your likeness shining through. He’ll be more you than anyone else. And one day he will sit on the throne, and carry on your legacy.”

“Leveria,” Father murmured, “your husband…”

“Will be none the wiser.” I laughed.

“A child of pure blood.” Father muttered. His eyes lit up, and looked at me with that youthful exuberance he’d shown during our month of passion, “A son!” He kissed me deeply. At last, I had him all to myself. “Leveria,” He said as he drew from the kiss, “I’ve been a fool. You could see clearly what I was blind to.”

“What is it you once told me? ‘Do not let your failures dictate your successes.’”

“This failure…” Father said somberly, “… it almost cost us everything.”

“But it didn’t.” I whispered caringly, “Mother had to sow the seeds of sedition with her own womb. Your subjects love you too much for her to convince them to betray you.”

“Glendian,” Father smiled slyly, “is your man, Leveria. I’ve known since he contacted you instead of me about Yavara’s whereabouts. Glendian didn’t come to me out of loyalty; Glendian came to me because you forced him to.”

“I wouldn’t have put on such a performance if I knew you were aware of our relationship.” I smiled back.

“You still need to work on your improv; the ‘scared and afraid daughter’ only works for people who don’t know you. Everyone here knows you’re a stone-cold bitch.”

“That’s quite a thing to say to your daughter!” I laughed.

“But it’s true. Your ruthlessness uncovered a plot that would have ruined us.” Father sat up and looked me up and down, “You’re ready, Leveria.”

“For what?” I asked.

“After Trenaria is executed, I will abdicate to you.”

I’d anticipated every move to this point, but this… this was wholly unexpected. The proposition hit me like a ton of bricks, and the shock of it rendered me stupefied.

“Father, you have so many years, and I’m so young!” I said shakenly.

“I will be forced to abdicate one way or the other, Leveria. Think of the optics of my situation: my own wife plotted to betray me, and my own daughter is the greatest threat this nation has ever known. There will be inquiries, there will be riots, and there will be assassination attempts. With Trenaria dead, the Ternias family will turn against me, and the Noble Court will have a vote of no confidence.”

“And you will surmount them all!” I said, “You will squash the spiders who would plot against you and quell any rebellion that forms! We have the army!”

“Our kingdom cannot afford to be distracted by internal conflict.” Father responded, “We will soon face a threat that will require all our resources to be thrown behind one united banner. You will bare that banner, Leveria. Your youth is not a detriment; it is an advantage. The enemy you are facing is young, beautiful and charismatic. You must compliment her qualities with your own, and contrast your differences starkly. You are young, beautiful and wise. Wisdom surmounts charisma in times of strife. Your people will look to you to be wise and strong.”

“Father, I cannot…”

“You will.” Father said as his hand caressed my cheek, “You will be the youngest ruler The Highlands has ever known. You will be a beacon of hope in our darkest time. I have but one request of you, Leveria, while I can still call you by just your first name.”

“Anything!” I cried, tears welling in my eyes.

Father leaned in. “Will you accept my resignation?”

“Father,” I said, the tears falling freely now, “I accept your resignation.”

Father took my hand in his, and brought it to his lips. He kissed my ringed fingers, and whispered, “Long live the queen.”

End of Part Three

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