Fallen Princess, Risen Queen Ch. 01

Author's Note:

This is a story about corruption. Corruption stories tend to theme around non-consensual sex, or reluctant consent. This story has lots of both. It also has a lot of different kinds of sex, including with non-humans. There's going to be more as the chapters go on. Also, stylistically, the sex scenes in this are pornographic, just brimming with naughty words.

This is just the first of many chapters.

I have to give the hugest shoutout possible to JackBellend41, who edited this like a champion. Tremendous thanks man!

Adventure Awash in Madness

The princess knew something bad had happened, and that being called to court was going to change things for her -- but she had no idea that it would lead to her entire reality being rewritten. Princess Antariel, daughter of Queen Anadariel and King Tiertalan, had been raised in a life of comfort, without want. She often dressed in the silkiest finery and would refuse to wear anything that didn't accentuate her tall, slim figure or match her bright blue eyes. Her red hair was kept plaited, with two long braids falling down her back.

However, great expectations and responsibilities had been placed upon her shoulders which she had been training for her whole life. Not only was she the only child of the Queen and King, they were unable to conceive any more after her, but she was also expected to be the chief diplomat of the elven Kingdom of Melamandor. Melamandor was the largest of the kingdoms on the island continent of Eltanor with the most powerful military.

The princess had heard a rumor that burned through the court like a wildfire. A Profane Tower had been spotted in the north of Eltanor. It technically wasn't in Melam lands, but they would be expected to lead the attack regardless.

As Antariel entered the court, her stomach flopped inside of her. She couldn't imagine why they'd want her -- one hardly treated with the forces of the Profane gods. They existed only to despoil and destroy everything that the elves and the forces of the just stood for.

"My --" she started to say 'Lord' but realized that her father was absent. It was only the Queen, the woman who had birthed her, who was sitting on a throne. Courtiers were scurrying around, and the Queen absently waved them off. "My Queen. I am summoned," Antariel said formally, as she was taught.

The Queen had always been hard on Antariel. She claimed it was for her own good, but sometimes the princess wondered if the Queen was simply unhappy with her own station and took it out on the princess. Antariel had noticed, as she entered her fourth decade, that the Queen and King seemed deeply unhappy. They both barely treated her as an adult, given they had both left their first millennium behind them. But the Queen in particular seemed like she wanted more to say in state matters, and the King seemed uninterested in what the Queen wanted.

"My daughter," the Queen looked at the empty throne next to her, and back to the princess. "I fear for what I must ask of you. As I have a most... demanding task."

The princess had never heard the Queen speak like this before. Her blood ran cold as she imagined she must be in more trouble than she thought.

The Queen sighed deeply and kept her spine perfectly straight. Her own dress was white with green accents and a high collar. The crown atop her head as always, shone brightly with white gold, perfectly straight and seemingly untouched by the world.

"I am... at your service, my Queen," Antariel gave a small bow.

The Queen sighed again and shook her head. "No need for such formality today," she said, closing her eyes briefly and added, "I must send you to the Profane Tower, to deal with the lord there."

Antariel blinked in confusion and stood straight up. "Deal with? Why -- how?"

The Queen closed her eyes again, before opening them and looking back to her daughter. "I'm afraid I don't exactly know. Your purpose is to convince the lord of the Profane Tower to enter into negotiations with us." She paused then added, "With our chief diplomat," she motioned toward an elf noble in another part of the Court. Antariel recognized the noble -- Varandur. Varandur spent a lot of time negotiating with other elves and directed most of the diplomacy for the kingdom. Technically, his station was beneath hers, but she would probably be deferring to him in a negotiation.

"However, Profane Lords only treat with those in power," the Queen spoke each word carefully. "Thus, we send you to act as our authority."

Antariel stared at the Queen on the throne and pressed her lips together. She looked at Varandur then back to the Queen. "And to what end? What is the purpose of these negotiations?"

The Queen looked askance and suddenly declared, "Leave us!" to the room at large. Every elf in the room turned to the Queen, bowed, and began leaving. "Varandur," the Queen said as the elf noble bowed to leave, "You stay as well." He nodded and stood.

After the room was emptied, the guards turned and left to guard the outside of the closed doors.

"Approach," the Queen commanded, before sighing deeply. "Your father regrets he could not be here," she said quietly, as Antariel and Varandur both walked up to her throne. "However, he is mustering our forces in order to send an army to the Profane Tower." She swallowed and stared directly at Antariel. "We are not prepared, my daughter."

Antariel blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, we have --"

The Queen shook her head. "Our forces have not yet returned from battle in the east." She paused a second, "And that battle did not go as well as we would've liked."

"But we were victorious," Antariel said, looking over at Varandur.

"There are many kinds of victory, my dear daughter," the Queen said and looked down. "I'm afraid this was one of the lesser kinds." She paused briefly, then continued, "As such, you are being sent in the hopes that the Profane Lord will... not immediately attack."

Antariel's eyes went wide as she understood the meaning, and her breath was stolen from her. She was a distraction.

"My Queen," Varandur spoke up, "Even if he takes my life for the insult, surely if I went alone, it would provide enough --"

The Queen held up a hand, and Varandur went silent. She took a long moment and finally said, "We disagree."

"You disagree?" Antariel asked, astonished, and anger began flushing her cheeks. "You are sending me to my doom, and all you can say is you disagree?" She didn't get along with her mother, but even she couldn't possibly be this heartless.

The Queen looked to her right, unwilling to look at her daughter's face. "This has been discussed, and the decision already made. You are to travel with a cadre of our most elite guards to the Profane Tower and entreat the lord there to enter negotiations."

"Yes, my Queen," Varandur said as he gave a deep bow.

Antariel stared at the Queen, pursing her lips for a moment and shook her head. She turned and left the Court of the Melam behind.

Antariel was grateful for the company that had come with her, at least. Varandur and her were escorted by twenty valiant knights, all of whom seemed as though they could single-handedly fell a dragon. They each carried large swords and were covered in plate mail.

Varandur was dressed as a noble might be, though he had made some concessions to the possibility of battle, wearing light chainmail.

Antariel didn't bother. She was going to be murdered the moment she stepped into this tower, and nothing was going to stop that. She wasn't going to give the Queen the hope that she might win in a battle. Her mother would just have to live with the fact that she had sent her daughter, defenseless, to her death.

Petty, perhaps, but it was her life, and this was how she was going to see its end.

The trip itself wasn't terribly long -- the wagon they were in raced along the well-maintained road of the Eltanori lowlands. Soon, they would pass through the Gate of the Chalkidry, which was the northernmost fortress near where the Profane Tower had apparently appeared.

The force of the Profane moved in ways that defied logic or reason, much in the way their horrible gods preferred. Suddenly a Tower would appear. Monsters would pour out, and kill and raze and destroy everything around them, and then the Tower, and all the monsters, would vanish.

There's even a story of an elven scout that, in spotting a Tower, tried to leave the area and report back. He thought that the Profane lord within had hexed him, because no matter how far he ran, when he woke up in the morning, the Tower was no more than a thousand paces from him.

The scout panicked, redoubling his efforts, until he suddenly came upon a town, and turned to discover the Tower a thousand paces behind him. It was then he realized he wasn't turning in circles: The Tower was following him.

That was the kind of madness Antariel had to look forward to, shortly before her no doubt horrible end.

Though, she noted that of the stories of the Profane Towers and their movement -- none had come to Eltanor in thousands of years, not since the last kingdom of a united Eltanor was shattered. Now the elf homeland wasn't even united, but it was supposed to have been warded against such a transgression.

The Gate of the Chalkidry had more hustle and bustle than usual. Defensive preparations were being set up; food was being shipped in to fill their stocks, weapons were being smithed, armor crafted, and the large lions of Krathis were being fitted with harnesses. But there wasn't even time to stay in the fortress for the night. They pressed on, passing through, and headed further north.

Along the north coast of Eltanor was a peninsula, just a small little spit of land, which had a large lighthouse on it to aid in coastal travel.

"How do you think the Profane Tower breached the wards?" Varandur asked Antariel as they sat in the back of the wagon.

She looked out the window as a fog built around them. "I don't know if it did, exactly." Antariel spent a lot of time studying, even studying the arcane. The Queen and King had hoped that she might become proficient, but she never did. She was always better at reading about it than doing it. "The land the lighthouse is on was raised out of the sea after the wards were created. They didn't wish to cut down any trees, but still wanted it to be visible."

It was possible the Profane Tower was stuck -- but that wouldn't stop the hordes from escaping from it, and simply marching to the Gate of Chalkidry.

However, as they approached, the fog enveloping them thickened beyond anything Antariel had ever seen. "How could anyone have spotted a tower, Profane or otherwise, in all this?" Antariel asked Varandur, looking out the window from inside the wagon.

"One has difficulty imagining," Varandur said, furrowing his brow. "I can hardly see the trees at the edge of the road." He squinted. "My word, I think I actually can't see the trees at the edge of the road."

Antariel suddenly opened the door.

"My princess!" Varandur cried, reaching toward her.

Antariel ignored him, standing up, and trying to lean out of the wagon to see ahead of them. She yelled at the driver, "Can you see where we're headed?" she cried out loudly.

The driver whipped the horses, causing the wagon to shake and jumble. Antariel suddenly felt hands on her arm, yanking her hard back inside as the wagon hit a rock, causing both her and Varandur to tumble inside of it.

He scrambled over to the door, shutting it. "I apologize my princess, but I --"

"The driver didn't answer!" Antariel shouted, as she straightened herself back up, and tried to sit on the chair.

"I'm sure he is merely focused on his task," Varandur said, looking out the window.

"I couldn't see the lighthouse," Antariel said, breathing heavily.

"I... I'm sure he's merely focused on his task," Varandur said, staring at the floor.

"V...Varandur?" Antariel asked, her brow knit together in confusion. Did he hit his head?

Varandur looked up at her and smiled, "Oh, yes, I agree." He looked out the window. "I'm sure he's just... merely focused on his task."

Antariel swallowed. A horse screamed and the entire world spun around.

Antariel sat up, trying to get her bearings in the upside-down wagon. From the pounding in her head, she was sure she must've been bloodied in the wagon crash. She couldn't worry about that now. She scrambled over to the door and twisted the handle. It didn't move, no doubt pinched in due to the twisting of the wagon wreckage.

She turned to Varandur and gently shook his shoulder. He seemed bruised, but otherwise undamaged. "Varandur!" she yelled urgently, shaking him.

"Princess!" he called out, before opening his eyes and sitting up. He put his hand to head and groaned.

Antariel became aware of the sounds outside the wagon -- the clash of metal -- a man's scream. The wagon door suddenly exploded outward, and an armored body held a gauntlet down. "My lady!" came the call, "Can you free yourself?"

"Yes!" Antariel yelled and reached out to take the gauntlet. She looked back, as she was pulled, "Varandur!" she yelled, and the elf noble crawled out after her.

They stood up and were immediately confronted by the terror of battle, as the armored elf next to her was suddenly struck in the chest by the sword by a hideous, snarling, monster. The monster had no defined shape, being mutated beyond recognition. It didn't have a sword -- its arm was a sword.

Antariel screamed and ran in a panic away from the wagon. Another of her armored companions headed over to her immediately, hearing her scream. She stumbled to a stop as a huge, winged creature with a lion's body flew down from the sky and clamped its claws on the armored elf. He swung his sword at the beast with a yell, but it merely lifted him up and threw him aside.

Antariel fell backward, landing in the dirt, and saw something she understood even less than the battle. A dozen paces from her there was a woman dressed in garb that barely covered any skin. A long skirt draped in front of her accentuated her hips, and small straps of cloth held up her massive breasts. She wore a black mask that covered her face, and motioned to some beastly looking warriors, who seemed to be part man and part animal. She had heard of these bestial creatures but never seen one. The warriors had what appeared to be a male prisoner, human or elf, naked except for a hood over his head. The prisoner ran and while they appeared to give chase.

The woman walked toward Antariel, her hourglass-shaped body swaying. Something about her raw sexuality seemed so familiar, but Antariel was certain she'd never met anyone like this.

Varandur broke her stupor, lifting her by an arm, "My Princess, come!" he shouted. Antariel scrambled off the ground, covered in dirt, and ran after the elf noble. She heard something behind her, the woman perhaps, but she couldn't make it out.

The sounds of battle faded behind them, but they ran until they heard nothing but their own footsteps. Finally, Antariel collapsed to the ground, weeping.

Varandur stopped and walked back to her, dropping to his knees. "I'm sorry my Princess," he said, tears of his own flowing down his cheeks. "I should've... I can't... "

Antariel shook her head, "It wasn't your fault. We shouldn't be here."

"I know," Varandur said, and shook his shoulders. It felt like the temperature had dropped a lot -- Antariel was freezing. "So cold," Varandur looked around then gasped.

Antariel looked up to see what fresh horror awaited them. She wished she hadn't.

They were mere paces from the front door of a massive black tower that erupted from the ground and pierced the gray sky. The door itself was a massive iron thing, with skulls prominently displayed within 9 pointed stars. Everything about it hurt to look at.

Varandur shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. "So many losses, they must count for something," he said and stood. He looked down at her and shook his head, "And besides, we'll freeze to death out here."

Antariel was less certain but wiped the tears from her eyes. She stood up next to him and looked down at herself. She was covered in filth, her dress torn, shredded below the knees, and any makeup she had long since smeared off. She was also certain she didn't smell her best.

She slowed her breathing, trying not to panic, as they headed toward the large black iron door.

Varandur curled his hand into a fist to pound, but as he raised his fist, the door creaked open. The sound of metal grating against metal pierced the air. They stared at the opening and saw nothing. The doors appeared to open into nothingness, as though the room beyond was so dark that no light was contained within.

Varandur took Antariel's hand. She gave it a squeeze as they crossed the threshold.

And found themselves in a stone hallway.

Antariel looked around in surprise, and then behind them, where there was a large, closed, iron metal door. She looked forward and Varandur looked around.

"Well, not... what I expected," he smiled at her, letting go of her hand. "But not so bad, so far." He took a moment to try to straighten himself up, running a hand through his hair, and straightening his fine, albeit dirty, garb.

They proceeded down the hallway and could hear the sounds of what must have been a large gathering. The loud buzz of a murmuring crowd filled the air, punctuated by bestial bellows and screeching.

They came to a large opening, around the corner of which was a sight neither of them were prepared for. It appeared to be a court, like many others, but this large hall was filled with monstrous denizens that filled the elf princess with a numbing fear. Mutants, goat-men, armored brutes, and there were even a couple minotaurs.

The hall was large, with windows on one side that let in light from the outside. But the light let in didn't look like the light she remembered. It seemed unnaturally bright.

Antariel could see Varandur steel himself, his entire persona changing as though he were putting on a cloak. "May I present!" He proclaimed, "The Princess Antariel, first daughter of Queen Anadariel and King Tiertalan of the Kingdom of Melamandor!"

The entire hall fell silent. Soon figures were pushing each other out of the way, forming a path between the entrance to the halland the huge black throne at the center of it. The back of the throne rose a dozen feet into the air. The chair itself was huge, much bigger than its occupant.

Varandur walked forward with a confidence that Antariel did not share. She looked nervously at the various figures on either side, some of whom were openly leering at her. Oh, how she wished that they had spent more time watching, rather than immediately announcing themselves.

As they approached the throne, she realized that the person on it appeared to be a human man. His ears did seem slightly elfin but his body, the most beautiful male body she'd ever seen, was bigger than any elf. It was also completely hairless and perfectly sculpted, every muscle on display and glistening.

The only thing he wore was a shimmering, translucent robe that hung open, revealing his naked body beneath it. Both Andariel and Varandur stared at his thick cock, which Andariel thought was slightly longer than her forearm. It was the most massive example of its kind she'd ever seen. She wouldn't have imagined how quickly it would be supplanted.

A few steps shook the very ground, sending resounding booms through the hall, as a massive minotaur walked up to the back of the throne, before moving around it.