“Farewell, Prince,” Narim said, bowing before roughly leaving the cell.
As the prince looked at Narim with his swollen eye, he spoke softly, “Hey, Narim.”
“Yes?” Narim responded before leaving.
“What day of the week is it?”
“It is the Day of Golden Sun. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” Darian smiled weakly, feeling the absence of a few teeth.
====
As the sun set, the night descended upon Galatley, and the full moon appeared in the sky. It was the Day of the Golden Sun, the final day of the week and an occasion for revelry and drunkenness throughout the land. The King Inglud always visit the queen in her chambers on this day, indulging in alcohol before performing his marital duties. Darian knew without a doubt that the king would try to take advantage of the queen tonight.
He promised to impregnate her while Darian is still in the castle. Than today is the day. He has to act now to not make it happen. With Narim’s key in hand, Darian carefully opened the cell gates and stowed it back into his prisoner’s robe.
“I can climb from here through the window and get to my room,” Darian peered out into the night. He scanned the area below, taking note of the patrol that had just passed the garden. He knew that the window overlooked the outer courtyard, full of guards who could easily spot him if he wasn’t careful. With a deep breath, Darian began to climb up the rough stone wall.
“Hey, what’s that?!” a voice called out from below.
“Another patrol,” Darian cursed to himself, silently urging his body to move faster.
“You’re just drunk. There is nothing there.”
With a surge of adrenaline, Darian propelled himself upwards, his fingers gripping tightly onto the rough brickwork. He was almost there when his foot slipped treacherously off the ledge. He quickly wrapped his arms around a protruding brick and pulled himself up, leaping through the half-open window into his own quarters.
“I tell you I saw something!” The voices became even clearer, the guards moved closer to the wall, but Darian paid them no mind. He extracted a brick from the wall, exposing his hidden cache. From within it, he retrieved a small, gleaming dagger and a dark cloak, its fabric expertly chosen to blend seamlessly into the castle walls.
“The castle hallways are too dangerous to use, so I have to take the more perilous route along the ramparts”
With the dagger between teeth, he scaled the wall and made his way over the old stones of the castle ramparts. The full moon had disappeared behind thick clouds, leaving only the dim light of a few torches to guide him. Patrols walked by, their footsteps echoing in the night, but Darian stayed hidden in the shadows, making his way ever closer to the queen’s chambers.
He pulled himself up onto the parapet and peered cautiously through the open window. To his dismay, he heard the sound of raised voices and the heart-wrenching cry of a child from within. As he strained to listen, he heard the King’s voice, impatient and commanding.
“I’m almost done, woman. Just be quiet!..Oh You are so good.” The king wrapped his arms around the head of the bed and threw head back in euphoria.
“I’m too late,” Darian realized with a sinking feeling.
“Inglud You can finish later!” Tartuff’s infant cries pierced the air, growing louder and more frantic by the second.
“I told you… I’m almost… Ooooh” The king’s entire body shook with animal pleasure. He let out a scream that resembled a battle cry. His body went suddenly limp and he collapsed onto her.
With a gentle touch, she stroked his back and arms. “Well done, my king,” she murmured softly. “Now get off me.”
At first it seemed that Inglud fell asleep. Some chomping sounds reached Darian’s ears. He noticed how white semen was flowing from the edge of the queen’s vagina and how it dripped onto the floor, spreading all over the sheet. Darian glanced at his mother when she already lowered her nightgown and hid her nude body behind it. She abruptly got up and went over to Tartuf. Darian saw a white liquid flow down her shins, and semen dripped between her legs onto the floor, leaving drops of sperm behind her as she walked.
“Seems like Inglud did not stint on sperm and flooded queen with everything that was in his old ugly balls,” he thought.
While Nymira was busy with Tartuff and dripping cum, Inglud went to the window where Darian was, waving his huge flaccid cock in the air. Bear-like nude figure went straight to the open window.
“So good,” Inglud let out a deep, rumbling chuckle as he gazed out over the city, completely oblivious to the imminent danger lurking beneath him.
Darian drew the dagger from between his teeth and in one swift motion, plunged it deep into the bear-like man’s neck. The blade found its mark with sickening precision, piercing through the trachea and slicing through vital breathing apparatus. The king stood frozen, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Darian as his brain struggled to comprehend the chaos unfolding before him.
“I told you. You will believe,” Darian hissed, yanking the king violently towards him by his beard. Inglud, propelled by the force of the attack, tumbled over the window frame and crashed into the garden bushes below.
He heard movements from the room and quickly ducked back into the shadows. Someone went to the window and he heard mother’s urgent cry. “Inglud!” she shouted and sounds of her steps vanished in the room.
“I should hurry,” He deftly began to go down soon finding himself right next to the very bush where the king had fallen. His eyes narrowed as he saw the old man’s twisted form lying there, still breathing but barely alive. Darian didn’t hesitate. He knelt beside the king and gently lifted him out of the bushes.
“How can you still be alive.” The king’s response was a silent glare. Inglud didn’t puff, didn’t scream, his face was a mess of scratches and bruises, limbs were twisted at odd angles. Darian could see the pain in his eyes, but he didn’t let it sway him.
He drew his knife and stepped closer to the king. His hand was steady as he pressed the blade against the king’s throat. The king’s eyes widened, and for a moment, Darian thought he might try to fight back. But then the king’s body went limp, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
The King is dead.
Footsteps approached, Darian scaled the stone wall, hauling himself over the edge and into the queen’s room just as guards emerged below. He surveyed the empty chambers and headed for the exit through empty corridors, only encountering two oblivious guards. Arriving in his room, he stashed his dagger and cloak in a loose brick and made his way down the castle walls to the dungeon, relieved to avoid patrols.The adrenaline rush was palpable as he made his way down the ledges of the castle walls and returned to the castle dungeon, thanking the gods that no patrols were around this corner.
Upon returning, he found that everything remained unchanged. With ease, he approached his cell, swiftly entered, and securely locked the iron bars behind him.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he thought to himself, “Who would consider me a murderer if I spent all these days in prison…That’s it… Now I can finally rest.” With that, he settled down for a much-needed nap.
The night sky was awash with stars and Darian was caught in the throes of a fever dream, the last trace of a passing concussion. As his vision cleared, blurred figures began to take shape, and sounds into voices.
“You killed your king, Darian,” he heard familliar soft woman voice. It echoed in his mind, louder than before, and suddenly the fog of his dream lifted. Darian found himself in mother’s chambers, staring at Queen Nymira herself. Her hair was loose and tousled, cascading over her shoulders in waves, and she wore only a light robe that barely covered her figure and breasts.
Darian’s heart raced as he struggled to make sense of the situation. “Mother…?” he stammered.
Nymira’s expression was stern as she approached him, her voice low. “Why did you kill your own king?”
“I…I didn’t…”.
“You did it to be with me, didn’t you?” Nymira’s eyes bore into his, and she spoke again, her voice laced with an undercurrent of accusation.
He suddenly felt her gentle touch on his groin, her hand reaching precisely through the fabric to his shaft.
“O-h-h-h-h,” he grunted feeling her touch.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, her eyes locked onto his. “Do you want to be with me? You want to be with your Queen? Do you want to fuck your own mother? Even though you know it’s wrong?””
He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions.
“I know it’s bad,” he finally admitted, his voice low and raw. “But I want it…more than anything else.”
“I understand,” The corners of her mouth lifted into a knowing smile as she looked at him. “But we have to be careful.”
He felt being close out of her touch. She moved to him, her lips parting as she spoke in a sultry voice, “Kiss me. Let’s share a forbidden moment.” With a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned in to kiss her. The queen’s plump lips were soft and inviting, but in that moment, the dream disappeared, and everything went into oblivion.
CHAPTER 7. AFTERMATH
The sound of a voice penetrated Darian’s slumber, pulling him back to the waking world. “Wake up, Prince,” the voice commanded.
Darian slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He found himself locked behind bars, with Lokir standing before him in his customary black coat. Darian’s overseer, stationed nearby, opened the gate.
“You are free,” Lokir declared, extending a hand to help Darian to his feet. Darian rose from his cage, his body stiff and sore from the confinement.
“Come with me…and dress up,” Lokir continued, offering Darian some clothes.
“Is this the order of the king?” he asked, pretending not to know what was happening.
“Did I say it’s time for questions? Get dressed, lunatic,” said Lokir, before leaving the cell and granting him some much-needed privacy. Thirty minutes later, they both descended the stone steps. The circular staircase was infused with the sweet fragrance of mint and basil, undercut by an unpleasant odor — a putrid scent of illness. They had arrived at the healers’ floor.
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