Moon Witch Ch. 10

After the Desert Rose and Eryx left me on the path alone, I wandered between the trees where at the end I saw a faint glow peeking through some plant life.

Every step I took seemed to grow my confidence in my destination. As I drew near I saw a small, maybe waist-high entrance embedded into a tree from where the crimson light was coming from. There was no doubt that this was the right place to go. I gulped down my anxiety and ducked into the little entrance.

I could only describe the interior as what I'd imagine a fairy's paradise to be. The red glow was coming from larger than life mushrooms that surrounded the perimeter of the space. A small pond filled with fronds was nestled in the center. As I walked closer to it, I saw tiny shadows of fish darting about in the red light.

There was a path of sorts going directly from the small entrance into the pond, leading to the center of the pond where upon a tall stand there was a... A rock. An extremely ordinary looking rock.

I walked along the path, following it to where it entered the pond. I gathered my skirts and stepped into the water, where the water came up to my knees. The rock that looked so ordinary from far away, close up had red gems speckled throughout. I frowned. It looked familiar.

I untied my top and took out the necklace that Awvag had given me. The red gem at the tip was undoubtedly the same material.

"You've finally come," said a voice. I looked up from my examination of the red crystalline rock to see an ethereal figure seemingly descending from the sky. A translucent woman, dressed in flowing blue robes with her hair flowing out behind her, came down. As soon as her toe touched the water of the pond, a flash of light filled my vision. When my vision cleared, the woman was in front of me, now in the flesh.

What shocked me the most, though, was that this woman looked just like me. She was just taller and had a darker complexion. It was almost like I was staring back at myself if I were a beautiful goddess.

Now, I'm here in front of this otherworldly being in shock. "I'm sorry, but, who are you?"

The woman smiles at me. "Re'aila Nuor. Your mother is of my family, and so are you."

I laugh nervously. "We do look like we're related."

"Truth be told, I've been expecting you for a long time. I thought I'd be waiting for longer, but luckily for me your mother didn't marry another weak man like so many other daughters in the family did."

"I don't believe I understand, Lady Nuor."

"It's understandable, so far removed from everything you are. I guess I'll have to start from the very beginning, then." Re'aila walked to the edge of the pond, having a seat on one of the big stones around the pond's edge. As much as she seemed physically present, the water around her form wasn't disturbed.

"Back when I was still alive, I was Gra'marah's queen. I would've been just a little older than you are now. But was I the strongest woman around- well liked, powerful, and everything. I came into the throne as a young woman when my father passed away early and I like to think I did everything right. But as likeable as you are, there are always those who hate you for no reason at all. My opponents thought that I didn't belong anywhere near the throne considering I'm a woman. They also didn't like that I chose not to take a husband who they could manipulate and put on the throne." Her face hardens. "So they staged a coup. One night while-"

"It'll be easier this way," she says, interrupting herself and then beckoning me over. I walk over and sit on the stone next to her as she indicates. She lays her hands over mine, where they feel incredibly frigid. "Close your eyes, Selene."

As soon as I close my eyes, I'm reliving her memories.

Re'aila is alone in her private bathhouse, soaking in the fragrance of the soft and perfumed water. There are lit candles all about the hot bath, with soft moonlight streaming in through an open window illuminating the space.

With a loud bang, the door is flung open. Re'aila looks behind her to see a row of uniformed men standing menacingly at the entrance. "What is the meaning of this?"

The man at the front steps forward. "It's an embarrassment to our proud country that you're in rule. Re'aila Nuor, don't think for one second you can escape the fate of your people."

Re'aila gets up. A foamy sheet of water from the bath follows the movements of her body so that despite being naked, she's as covered as possible. Eyes narrowed, she says, "The fate of my people?"

"Just because the late King Cuno knocked up your whore of a Rebredan mother doesn't mean that you belong to the throne."

The queen stands tall, shimmering with power and indignance in the firelight. "Being of Rebredan blood is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Gra'marah would be better without her trash people, including you," he spits out. He takes another step forward, straight into a patch of moonlight. His face is grizzled and mean, and there's malicious intent etched into its every crease. He looks the queen up and down as if undressing her, as if there was a need to when they decided to ambush her during her time in the bathhouse. "If anything, it's good that she died when she did. They should all be wiped out, rats that don't belong anywhere near the rest of us pure blooded Gra'marians."

Re'aila's hands clench at her sides. It's the anger in her tone that betrays her emotion. "You dirty pigs."

"Don't worry, we have a replacement all set for you," he laughs. His face becomes serious and he growls out, "Get her."

What follows is a horrifying and intense battle. The men have come armed with weapons, but mostly to corner her into submission. They seem to have been instructed not to harm her, which she uses to her full advantage. She blasts the flames from the candles towards the men at the front, the worst victims falling down in screams with blackened and blistered skin. She throws off their aim and movement with the fragrant water, throwing well aimed punches and kicks towards the men who come closest to her.

However, there are too many of them, and in due time they've backed her into a corner. She stands with her fists up and breathing hard, cuts on her nude body streaming blood.

"Surrender, Re'aila. You're outnumbered." The ringleader is panting equally as hard. A large bruise is blossoming on his face where Re'aila's fist had connected with his face.

"I'm your queen and will be addressed at such."

But with all the men that are present, it's only inevitable that Re'aila is soon bound with her forearms completely bound behind her back. Her legs are given a similar treatment, tied so her thighs and calves are flush and when they yank her legs apart her center is completely exposed. As much as she keeps her face stony, the indignance radiates from her, being trussed up in such a way.

She's picked up and taken to the throne room, where she's met by a man sitting in the throne. Her throne.

"Welcome back, Re'aila."

The man who carried her in dumps her unceremoniously on the floor, where she gets up slowly with a groan. Now that time has passed, it seems that her adrenaline has worn off and she's now feeling the effects of her wounds.

"Jahto," she says venemously. "I should've known you were behind this stupid bid for power."

The man laughs condescendingly. He's pretty unremarkable, save for how sinister he looks. "We could've been so good, together. A power couple, as they say. But you couldn't stand the idea of that, could you?"

He walks closer to her, where she kneels on the floor naked and bound. Everything about her positioning speaks to the intense power dynamic between the two, but still she sits tall, refusing to acknowledge Jahto's upper hand. On the other hand, he seems to find pleasure in seeing her posture, thinking that she looks so vulnerable at his feet.

"I was never interested in giving up my body or my heart to you," says Re'aila, looking away.

The man named Jahto crouches down, invading Re'aila's space. He leans forward as Re'aila remains still, refusing to move out of the way. He whispers into her ear. "And look where that got you. You're still sitting naked in front of me. You should've thought twice about overlooking me, you half-Rebredan bitch."

"You didn't let me being a Rebredan bitch bother you when you were begging to fuck me," she said, impassive.

His face hardened. "Well, times change."

She yelps as, in a display of strength and dominance, he yanks her up by the rope on her arms. He roughly carries her over to the throne, putting her down and shoving open her legs. With one hand he's loosening the ties on his clothes.

The lust in his eyes is intense, smoldering as he looks down at the beautiful overthrown queen of Gra'marah. Her face is flushed with all the exhaustion of the night's happenings.

"Jahto, wait." She looks slightly panicked now. "You don't have to. Be a righteous man."

The two of them hold eye contact for some time before his face hardens and he shoves forward into her. She cries out, her body not prepared for penetration.

"You feel so good," Jahto groans with his eyes closed, beginning to push and pull out of her.

Re'aila whines with each movement, her countenance reflecting the pain she feels.

"I could have fucked you this hard every night if you'd chosen to make me your king," he pants out. "Say the word and maybe I'll give you a chance this time."

As her body adapts to the thick appendage ravaging her insides and produces lubrication, she begins to breathe heavily, eyes wide open staring directly into Jahto's. Despite his actions, he has a different look in his eyes. One could even describe it as slightly hopeful.

"Honestly, Jahto," she says between heaving breaths. "Go fuck yourself."

Any hint softness that was in his eyes disappears and he buries himself into her yet again. He begins to thrust hard and deep into her, bottoming out each time so the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other echoes in the empty throne room. The pace quickens until he's driving into her briskly. Re'aila moans in despair.

"Take it." Jahto snarls, gripping her hips and pressing into her, buttocks tightening as he releases his seed into her. He pumps in and out just a few more times, bliss obvious on his face.

The queen looks away from where Jahto stands over her, her eyes seeming empty. He, coming out of the throes of ecstasy, looks down at his queen with just a hint of the prior softness. He pulls out of her with a shudder and she closes her thighs without reaction, though there is a hint of discomfort on her face. There's a piece of hair in her face that he tucks behind her ear tenderly. His hand strokes down the side of her face, tucking under her chin and pulling it up so she's forced to make eye contact with him.

"I meant it, Re'aila. Let me be your king. The only way you can have a decent life is if you let me protect you. Marry me."

The queen's face reddened. "You've got to be a special class of stupid if you think I'll do what you want right after you finish raping me. You can strip me of my clothes, strip me of my title - but I'll always have my dignity."

"I was afraid you'd be like this," sighs Jahto. "You've always been too proud for your own good."

It's a little disorienting coming back to myself. My stomach twists at what I saw of Re'aila's memory. "Some of that looks familiar," I say softly, remembering my first time with Azrath.

She nods, eyes closed as if remembering brings too much pain. "It all started like this. I'm sure you could tell but... Jahto was not a good man. He didn't take it well, being rejected by me yet again. I think he thought that staging a successful coup was the last step before he could get me to submit to him. He decided to keep me around, and well, the next few years of my life was just what you saw over and over again. If anything it only got worse.

"I know the Rebredan people are extinct now, so you may have never even heard of the term. Back then it was a hugely offensive insult. A lot of exiles settled in Gra'marah after fleeing a tribal war, and many Gra'marians wanted Rebredans to be eliminated. Driven out of Gra'marian lands. Many were executed for their sins of even existing at all. That my father, King Cuno, got a Rebredan woman pregnant was a big enough scandal of itself. But it was even worse that he only had a daughter throughout his lifetime. The throne was rightfully mine, but I was forcefully removed from it for being a woman, and one of dirty blood.

"Eventually Jahto tired of me. Got married to some pure-blooded Gra'marian that his allies approved of, had a couple sons, grew out of his lust for me, I suppose you could say. In a few years I'd become politically unthreatening enough so that they didn't really care about me, so they decided to kill me off."

Without warning, Re'aila closes her icy hands over mine once again and I'm plunged into another memory.

Re'aila looks awful. She has on a bastardized slave's version of the traditional Gra'marian dress, so it does little to hide the emaciated state of her body. Where before her shape was full and curvy, now her bones are visible. Her whole figure is skeletal and her face is gaunt, with ashen skin and deep dark circles under her eyes.

She's located in a dungeon cell, where it's cold and dark and wet. Outside it's raining fiercely, and she reaches a few fingers out the barred window to gather and then pull in orbs of water. The large pearls of water on her fingers she brings to her mouth, drinking desperately.

It had been a while since they had stopped feeding her, which included water. Re'aila had been lucky enough that the rains had begun just as she'd started to get dehydrated.

She had no idea how long it had been since she'd had any food, but even the memory of eating seems to make her stomach dully ache. Apart from being confined on her own with nothing to do at all hours and losing her sanity, all the while constantly cursed to live with hunger and thirst as companions, Re'aila didn't know what would be her inevitable demise.

By the next morning, though, it had been answered; the woman fainted and did not awaken. When guards noticed she was unceremoniously dumped outside to die.

A man, short and stocky with a kind face, happened down the palace's backroad when he saw the skin and bones young woman. He frowned seeing her and looked around before picking her up, cradling her lightweight frame against his chest.

Over the next few days he was afraid that she wouldn't make it. She remained sleeping for most of the time, and even when she regained consciousness, he could hardly coax her to eat the fruit and bread he offered her with how out of it she seemed.

But as time continued, Re'aila got better, being awake for longer at a time and eating regularly. The two of them engaged in conversation a bit at a time, but for the most part the man left her alone to rest. He seemed to instinctively know to give her space.

After years of being subject to all kinds of abuse while being held hostage in the Gra'marian palace, Re'aila found it almost disconcerting being left alone in a peaceful, warm, and comfortable environment.

She learned that the man's name was Maito and that as a potter he lived alone, his whole life dedicated to his craft. As Re'aila got better, she found ways to be helpful to him around the house, preparing dinner so they could sit down and eat together every day.

Every day was a routine of the two of them sitting, chatting, and being comfortable in one another's presence. For both of them having felt alone for so long, they each grew to appreciate having someone else to share their space with.

He never asked much about what had happened for her to be there, malnutritioned and left to die sitting in the cold, but over time she wound up opening her heart and her mind to him.

One day while the two were sharing a meal, Re'aila asked Maito, "Do you think there's anything that I can do for work? You've done so much for me already at your own expense, I don't wish to take advantage of your kindness any longer. If you would still have me here, that is."

"I would rather you not leave me, Miss Nuor, for you've been a welcome addition to my life. I think it's really if you would have me where I'd be honored." Re'aila smiled at Maito's diplomatic way of hinting at his feelings, and he responded in kind at her telling reaction. "As for work, I'd always be open to taking you on as an apprentice of sorts. I've also heard of a few places looking for people to work."

"Like what?" Asked Re'aila.

Maito told her about some possible leads, including posts with the laundry woman and the apothecary. "Of course, anything you are interested in I can find out more information about and let you know. There is one thing I know of for sure, and that's a butcher shop owned by a friend." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't feel the most comfortable suggesting this to you given the status of butchers here in Gra'marah and how you're a young beautiful woman who has many years left ahead of her... But Gra'marians do love their meat and my friend says he will be paying much."

"Maito-sei, I have something to confess to you." Her face colored just a bit as she paused, taking a sip of tea and looking down at her half-empty plate. It was obvious that speaking her mind was taking a fair bit of willpower. "My real name is Re'aila. I was the queen before King Jahto ousted me from the throne."

"I did think that Yalia didn't seem to fit you," he said as lightly as possible, not quite able to hide his surprise.

Re'aila gave a dry laugh. Relief at his reaction was evident on her face. "I'm sorry for hiding it from you. It feels like a lifetime ago, and to be honest, it's been a while since I've felt like my being queen has been relevant. The only reason why I bring it up now is that I don't know how much I care about my reputation. When King Jahto was using me... He would oftentimes do it in public so everyone could see. If anything, I am more surprised that you never remembered seeing me and put it all together."

"I have seen you before," said Maito, not making eye contact with Re'aila. "I just thought that the beautiful woman I have in front of me was a different one than the woman I saw being... Defiled in public. I didn't remember your face."

"It happened often." Re'aila began to recount some of the abuse she had endured. She only vaguely hinted at the more explicit things that happened, and he seemed to understand when she was vague, but for the most part he sat and listened, nodding.

"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve anything they put you through."

"For the first couple years, I sat and hoped that someone would save me in the same way that Jahto had gotten people to rally behind him. But I lost hope when I realized how much his military power was intimidating everyone. Many of my most loyal confidantes," she said, her voice troubled. "They were executed when Jahto took the throne. You were the first to show me kindness in years, Maito-sei."

"We got married quickly after that in the spring," said Re'aila with a smile, obviously reliving the memory in her head. "And I started working with his friend, the butcher. I assume you've read my journal?"

I nod yes, with so many questions running through my head about her journal.

"I started to make my discoveries about life magic as a result of working with death every day. It wasn't the best work. I didn't think of it often but I guess it still was embarrassing to think of how far I'd fallen from being queen of the country to being a butcher but... I also found that every time I slaughtered an animal I felt just a bit stronger. I felt my magic getting stronger, little by little. I felt it much more when I started tuning into these signals and focusing on embracing it. If anything, I started learning to do what I grew to think of as harvesting life magic. I can't consider myself being weak before, but during this time I really felt my power growing.