Daughter of War

NOTE: This story featured dark themes of coerced marriage, public humiliation, degradation, and magical bondage. Be warned!

All characters are over 18, fictional, and awful. No real life person should behave like them.

* * *

"What, it takes a whole troop of big warriors to guard one little Princess?" Caileth sneered, trying to remain as defiant as she could be while following helplessly on the end of a chain locked into shackles at her feet and wrists.

Her jab was met with a hard smack on her ass, making her yelp.

I'll have your head for that, she vowed, staring daggers back at the beastly man behind her, a bearded barbarian in a wildly patterned woolen coat who just smirked very slightly and pushed her forward by the shoulder.

This had not been the deal.

They dragged her through a high archway into the Great Hall -- her Great Hall -- and there, lounging insolently on her throne, was the self-styled Emperor Hrylan.

Her throne, that is, if her father truly had fallen in battle. Those rumors had left a heavy weight in her heart, but she had sworn to keep this place safe for him. Even if it meant paying a heavy tribute.

Hrylan's co-heirs, Ruumei and Nelufh, stood at his right and left. Beyond them, the hall was crowded with his men, as well as those among her own companions and palace staff who had not fled. Most of them, like her, had their wrists bound behind their backs, and their ankles chained together.

"My people were not to be harmed!" she hissed at Hrylan.

"And they have not been," he drawled, mildly. He sat up a little straighter on the throne, shifted towards her slightly, while still contriving to a most louche and disrespectful pose. "But precautions must be taken."

"Fine," she snapped. "I suppose this farce is to be our wedding ceremony, then?"

Caileth had once dreamed of a much grander and happier occasion, with cheering crowds and a splendid dress, and a handsome and genial consort at the end of it.

Hrylan, if he were less despicable, might have been handsome, with his long, sharp face, dark hair frosting into soft white at his temples, strong limbs framing lividly painted scale armor.

But instead of a long, flowing gown encrusted with gems and feathers, she wore heavy, biting chains and the traveling gear she had put on this morning, preparing to flee the palace if necessary. Still, she was a princess, and even her traveling gear was elegant, beautiful, woven with secret protective magics. Caileth held herself high. She would show her people that she remained proud and unbowed.

She spotted her lady-in-waiting, standing tearfully near the front of the crowd. When Hrylan's men were at the city gates, Vaolina had urged her to flee. But Caileth had instead asked the loyal maiden, her closests friend, to dispatch a messenger to their enemy.

In past parleys, Hrylan had desired greatly to join his house to hers. Her father had spurned him then, of course, out of respect for her wishes. But a wise ruler could change her mind.

The idea of living on horseback, desperately rallying support from a defeated country, made her shudder. She was accustomed to life on campaign, far from the ease of the palace. But it was having a palace to come home to that made that life bearable. To be a pursued rat...

No. As Empress, she would have a chance to protect her people. To make her voice heard in the affairs of the land. And perhaps to make her dagger felt, as well.

Ruumei and Nelufh approached her now. She saw that since their last meeting, the young heirs had already been supplied with golden circlets like the one she wore, advertising their new conquest.

She seethed. Her Kingdom was supposed to become a tributary of their barbarian Empire -- not a possession!

"How about it, lads?" rumbled Hrylan, leaning back. "Think you're ready to put the Princess in her place?"

Caileth's blood froze. What did the Emperor mean by that?

Nelufh, the elder of the two, put an arm out, stopping Ruumei. She had noticed that Ruumei, who was otherwise completely insufferable, did defer to his brother in most things.

Nelufh looked her up and down, as if sizing her up. She glared at him. He was a man of prime soldiering age, but young for the command he'd been given. In his soft, pretty face and awkward bearing there were only hints that he might ever grow into something like his father's authoritative presence. He seemed more to want to fade into the background, as much as any man could wearing those garish stripes and swirls.

But, she did notice that he had a small, fresh scar over one eye to attest to his growing combat experience.

"Princess she may be," Nelufh said slowly, with an intent gaze fixed upon her. "But anyone trained in the secret arts can perceive in her the aura of a submissive, father."

"What?" Caileth said, trying not to let her voice quaver. She settled herself. "What is this nonsense you've been teaching your little boys, Hrylan?"

Hrylan quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I am of pure royal blood," Caileth went on, "The direct line of the Goddess of War, born to rule in my bedchamber as in this throne room. If you think to pervert the natural order--"

"Yes, Princess," young Ruumei cut her off with a smirk, his hand settling impudently at her hip. "We know all about your divine-touched house and its funny theories about how royal blood alone makes you a dominant. Disproven by the slightest magical research, of course."

Hrylan laughed, and a few of the soldiers around them joined in. Caileth gritted her teeth.

"Explain yourself," she growled to the barbarian lord, attempting to shuffle away from the man's younger son. Ruumei was little more than a boy, slender and unimposing, but he caught her around the waist, and hobbled by chains, Caileth set that fight aside. "Are we to be wed, or is this merely an occasion for some tiresome banter?"

Now, Hrylan stood, and clapped his hands, sending a loud echo through the hall.

"You are right of course, pet," he said. "We should begin."

"Before we accept this Daughter of War into our house," Nelufh said, savoring his words. "I'd like to sample the goods."

This time the laughter around her was a roar, the gathered soldiers whooping and stamping their approval. She could have sworn Nelufh was now blushing slightly.

Ruumei nedged his brother with his elbow, grinning, and Nelufh shot him a quelling glare.

"Very proper," said Hrylan with an ironic nod, as if acknowledging the wisdom in this. "I believe this will aid your education, lads. We know she is a submissive, of course, but what else can you learn about her?"

Caileth had a little magical training of her own. Could she melt these shackles off without burning herself too badly? But as satisfying as it would be to leap forward and wrap her hands around the throat of her betrothed, it would end badly for her and her people.

Ruumei folded his arms, regarding her with an adolescent leer. Where his older brother was broad and rounded, Ruumei shared his father's wiry build, his long, distinguished face and nose. But he hadn't yet filled in around the jaw, and his hair was left in a boyish and uncivilized mop.

"Hard to disentangle all the readings. She must be wearing a fortune in magical gear."

Ruumei stepped up and unclasped Caileth's brooch, letting her cloak drift to the marble floor. His face was very close, and there was a slightly honeyed scent about him. His features were slightly askew, strange and not unpleasant to behold. His eyes shone barbarian-bright through the spill of shadowy locks.

"That's gotta have a warmth charm," Nelufh said, kneeling down and lifting a fold of her cloak. "Thin as a whisper, but I bet it's snug as fur."

As if on cue, she shivered in the draft that always whispered through the hall. Stop it, she told herself, trying to take command over her body.

It was rather like commanding a cavalry force, Caileth knew. The body has a mind of its own. Many minds, even. You can point it in a certain direction, but you can't always control what happens next.

Ruumei had a knife out, held lightly in his slim fingers. He touched it to her chest, letting it sizzle against the weft of her silver-plated tunic.

"A whole bunch of medals. Definitely not magical, these." He slipped the knife along her breast, snipping each honor to the ground. "One for each town your men burned, Princess?"

She didn't respond. Her mouth was dry, and she wasn't sure she could form dignified words.

"Ah! There!" he said, catching the blade in the fabric, slicing it open. He caught her eye. She looked away, refusing to blush. "A gap in the protective runes. You should check your artisans' work more carefully."

Deftly, he opened a long slash across the chest of her tunic, which sagged around her waist. Next went the leather ties down the front of her riding corset. Her bare breasts spilled out into the torchlight.

And then this wretch had his free hand on her, feeling her in his palm, taking her nipple between his fingers.

She was not going to react to his pawing.

He slapped her breast, not hard, but she was unable to stop an undignified sound from escaping her lips. He looked at her with interest, tugging her nipple sharply.

"Not bad," he said. "Fat, milky tits. Sensitive."

"How dare you--" she began. His brother slapped her other breast, harder, and the sting brought her up short.

That, and the knife, which was suddenly between her legs, snipping the strings that held her fine riding trousers at her waist.

"Y-you," she stammered, focusing her fury on the barbarian lord. "You promised yourself to me in marriage! Do you intend to break your word, and substitute one of your sons?"

"I intend to keep my word," Hrylan said. "I will marry you, and our houses will be unified. And you will also marry my heirs, and bear their children, and all will acknowledge them as conquerers of the Daughter of War, and as future Emperors."

Her trousers pooled around her. She held her head high. Let them try to humiliate her. She would only rise above their foolishness.

"Will you, Princess, keep your word?" he went on. "Or must I make other plans?"

Was that a threat? It hardly mattered. Caileth sighed.

She recognized the cold logic in Hrylan's thinking. He wanted to pass his realm down to his two sons to rule together. If he and they all shared one Empress, then her children would belong to them equally, and perhaps his house would be less apt to crumble into warring branches after his death.

Had the Emperor's original terms always included this triple-marriage, and she just hadn't realized it? Caileth tried to recall the exact wording of the tablet she had signed.

"Let us proceed," she said, looking between him and his two sons, gathered around her like a wolfpack. "With the ceremony...?"

"In good time," Ruumei said, stepping closer, so near that his breath was on her collarbone. He kissed her throat, softly, and then her lips. Stubbornly, she held her mouth closed against his, but then opened it with a gasp when Nelufh, who had sidled up behind her, gave her bare ass a stinging slap. Ruumei took advantage, moving his mouth against hers, tasting her teeth with his tongue. She considered biting it.

Probably a bad idea.

Ruumei's fingers were at the crook of her thighs now, slicking into her. Deep in her throat, she heard a little half-choked sound of pleasure.

"Soft lips. Wet, needy cunt," he enumerated pleasantly. Someone whistled. He gave her another little slap, almost gentle, but aimed right at her clit. She shook slightly. Then his fingers went back to work. "Have you ever had a cock in you, Princess?"

"Of course not," she hissed. There were some knowing chuckles around her.

Being unmarried, Caileth's only sexual experiences had been with the palace concubines, hand-picked submissives who had eagerly licked and touched her wherever she commanded them.

It had been a pleasurable enough diversion at first, but she had grown bored with it, and had called for them less and less. She had more important things to do, after all.

Ever since she came of age, Caileth had been the one her father sent to put down rebellions or defend the borders, if his attentions were required elsewhere. It should have been her, to fall in that battle with Hrylan and his invading hordes.

Now, there was nothing she could do but stand here, breath racing, listening to the mortifying, sticky sounds of this callow brat's fingertips touching her.

This was nothing like her concubines. It reminded her more of the time she half-fell from her saddle and was dragged a hundred yards before her attendants could rescue her. After disentangling herself and finding, Goddess-be-praised, nothing more than a few scrapes, she had been shaking for the next hour, alive with excitement and terror. She'd wanted to get right back on that horse and ride, and ride. And when they hadn't let her, she'd run laps around the palace grounds instead, chased by a wailing nurse.

She wanted to run now, too. Run away from this nightmare. But then, some awful, shameful part of her wanted to run into it, to stand right here and lean her hips just so into those fingers.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, her cheeks hot, cold air pricking her nipples, and -- oh! -- there was the hateful, barbaric touch of this detestable boy.

He must be newly of marriageable age himself, but he was vexing her most delicate place with a deftness she couldn't deny.

She hadn't agreed to take three husbands, but it might be a blessing. A chance to play them against one another.

Caileth could tell that for all his bluster, young Ruumei was playing at trying to show what a man he was. She was going to watch him, find the cracks in his bold, irritating facade. And later, when he didn't have his father and brother and half a company of warriors behind him, she would break him down, and gain some control of this situation.

There something between him and Nelufh, she was sure of it. Something she could work with?

Nelufh, standing close behind her, took her hands in his own. He seemed to be examining her fingers. She had made a few helpless attempts to find purchase on her bindings with them, but it had mostly just increased her discomfort.

"Magical rings," he noted, slipping one off. She growled. He rubbed her palm gently with the pad of his thumb. "A fire-stone! Powerful indeed."

Caileth felt Nelufh's free hand creeping down her ass. He pressed two long fingers into her cunt, thrusting along in terrible concert with his brother's cursed attentions on her clit.

"And this," he went on, taking her next finger between his own, "I believe this band has healing properties. I'll leave it where it is. It may be an aid to her in serving us."

Nelufh added a third finger to the ones pushing up into her, and, wrapping an arm around her, gave her nipple a terrible twist.

Ruumei sank down, taking her other nipple savagely in his mouth. Then he dropped lower, and now his fingers on her clit gave way to hot breath and a cruel, probing tongue.

She bit her lip to stop from crying aloud as a rapturous cascade pounded through her, jellying her legs, sending fresh waves of shame and anger through her. Shocking tremors radiated from her hips to her jaw. Nelufh supported her, and she sagged against him, suppressing a tinge of gratitude.

Ugh.

"She's actually cute when she's overwhelmed with pleasure," said Ruumei, rising from between her thighs, and touching a sticky finger to her trembling lower lip. "I do believe she'll make an agreeable wife."

There was a cheer. Like pressing against a bruise, she was unable to resist looking out at the crowd. The soldiers were chattering amongst themselves, laughing, clapping, some even touching themselves in appreciation of her debasement.

Her servants and companions stood silent. Some looked on stonily, or averted their eyes, red-faced. Some wept. Others, she wasn't sure. Were they ashamed of her? Enjoying the show? Both?

"If I'm to be your wife," she croaked, "Surely you can unbind me and allow me to enter into this union as a free and proud Empress?"

Hrylan had come close now, looming over her, and she summoned whatever remaining dignity she could command.

"I think not, pet," he said, brushing his fingers through her hair. "You may earn more freedom of movement later, if you prove an obedient wife. For now, you must learn who rules over this little Kingdom of yours."

He tightened his fist in her locks, and dragged her painfully to the altar that had been set up before the throne. She heard herself whimper pathetically.

Hrylan grabbed her wrists and unlocked them from one another, but maintained an iron grip. He pulled her down, forcing her to her back on the hard stone altar-top, and, wrenching her shoulders behind her, fastened her wrist-shackles to certain points at the corners of the altar.

"You can't mean that I'm to...have my wedding night out here in this hall?"

As if his intentions weren't all too plain by now.

"By the laws and customs of our people," Nelufh said calmly, "A new Empress must show her subjects that she enters into a marriage true, not some sham of a political alliance."

She squinted up at him, trying to tell if these laws and customs had been invented on the spot.

The two lordlings, each grasping one of her ankles and securing them in the same manner as her wrists, stood up as if in one motion. They looked down at her spread-eagled form. Nelufh, the impassive, broad-shouldered junior captain, and Ruumei, the whisper of a curdled youth, infuriatingly smug.

"But..." she protested weakly, "I could please you so much better, if I could move."

"What could be more pleasing," Hrylan said, "Than to have our bride wet and helpless, her cunt begging for cock, and unable to do a thing about it?"

A wrinkled barbarian priestess had joined them at the front of the hall, and in a voice like crackling paper she began to read.

"Hrylan, Emperor of the Seven Lands, and Nelufh and Ruumei, Associate Emperors, do you vow to protect and cherish and please your promised bride, Caileth, Daughter of War, for all time?"

"We so vow," the three boomed in solemn unison.

"And you, Caileth, Daughter of War, do you vow to serve and honor and please your promised husbands, for all time?"

Caileth kept her mouth closed tight, mind racing with outrage.

Could she refuse? Publicly break her promise of marriage, claiming that Hrylan had dishonored his own agreemnt by springing two extra husbands on her?

She might carry the legal argument, if Hrylan kept his word to allow the city to retain its codes and magistrates. But would she have the people on her side, after so many of them had seen her broken and humiliated like this, reduced to a quivering pleasure-toy?

Caileth wanted to believe that if it came to it, the city would rise up and overthrow these men who made peace under false pretences. But she had an awful suspicion that most people would shrug and join the side of the winner.

That was my plan, anyway, she thought. To join with them, keep close to the center of things, and keep her options open. She had to see it through. Better that than to be cast out, or worse.

And then, too, there was the traitorous glow of her body, still floating slightly on the currents of unwanted ecstasy to which she'd been subjected moments ago.

"I so vow," she called out, as evenly as she could. She shoved that glow down, away. She would not let it influence her. She would do her duty, but she could not afford to be seduced by it.

A great cheer rose up in the hall, and all the soldiers began to bang on their shields, hooting and hollering. Caileth shut her eyes, trying not to display any emotion.