Offspring with Queen Mother Pt. 01

Darian sneered as he dried his face with a rough linen cloth, the king's words echoing in his head like a cruel joke. "Continue the Serpent-Slayer bloodline," he had said. "This is your sacred duty."

"My sacred duty to do that?" Darian muttered as he approached the window. "Not to win a war like Nome, but to breed?" A cool wind blew across his flushed face, dissipating the last traces of his blush. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, when a knock sounded at his double doors.

"May I come in, my prince?" It was Narim, his oldest friend and second counselor. Darian felt a small sense of relief at the sound of his voice. Narim had always been there to help him since childhood.

Narim and Lokir, the other counselor to the king, were constantly at odds with each other, always arguing and finding counterarguments to each other's words. Despite their mutual animosity, however, the king considered them both invaluable servants to the kingdom.

"You may come in," Darian said, grateful for the distraction.

An old man with deeply wrinkled skin and short white braids shuffled into the modest chamber, his movements sluggish. It was Narim's father, an esteemed counselor in his own right, who had served the kingdom for decades.

"Congratulations on the birth of your brother, my prince," Narim said as he entered the chamber.

Darian scoffed. "I'm not the one who should be praised. Congratulate the king since he's the one who conceived the child."

Narim looked at Darian with concern. "Is something troubling you, my prince? I'm always here to listen."

Darian shook his head. "The king just ordered me to find a wife. He's afraid Nome won't return from war."

Narim nodded understandingly. "Without Nome and his army, the kingdom's enemies will try to take the throne. And there are rumors of a spy in the castle. Lokir even suggested that the spy is you."

"I bet he did. I'm tired of the fact that no one takes me seriously!" Darian clenched his jaw in anger and knocked over a bucket of water.

Narim stepped aside to keep his cassock from getting wet.

"You think I'm not scary enough? You think I can't keep this kingdom in fear?" Darian continued, raising the bucket back.

Narim looked at him thoughtfully. "A formidable appearance alone is not enough to instill fear in your enemies. Perhaps something terrifying or reckless should be done."

Darian raised an eyebrow. "Reckless? What do you have in mind?"

Narim shrugged. "I'm only a counselor, my prince. But if you want my opinion, finding a worthy woman to be your wife might help."

Darian sighed. "I suppose you're right. Can you help me find one?"

Narim smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid that's not within my duties as a counselor, my prince."

Darian nodded in understanding. "Very well. Thank you for your visit then."

The counselor went to the door as he was about to leave, but on the very threshold, the old man stopped and turned around heavily, straining old bones.

"I almost forgot. As you asked I brought you the book and, as you asked" He friendly smiled. "No one knows about it. I have put it in your chest."

"Thank you, Narim," Darian replied with a nod of gratitude.

"Have a nice read, my friend," Narim said before turning to leave.

Darian wasted no time in finding a book amidst the jumble of items in his chest. The green half-print cover caught his eye, and he read the inscription: "About the Serpent-Slayers and the Kingdom of Incuria," by Lokir.

He couldn't help but remember how Lokir used to pester him with endless inquiries from that very book. "If you don't know your own history, what are you good for, huh?" he'd say. But despite Lokir's annoying persistence, Darian knew that this book was approved by the Masters of Historiography, so at Narim's insistence, he had decided to read it after all. And he was determined that Lokir must never know anything about it.

Finally settling in at his desk, Darian opened the book and began to read. The words on the page quickly captured his attention, and he found himself drawn into the history of his kingdom. As the hours passed and the sun began to set, Darian's eyes grew heavy with tiredness and the beer in his blood, but he kept reading.

Then, a particular chapter caught his attention. Lokir had a habit of using the phrase "By untrue rumors..." to describe information that made Incuria look bad, supposedly spread by enemies, but which Darian knew was actually true. This time, Darian stumbled upon another such "untrue rumor."

"According to untrue rumors, Prince Angus allegedly turned his eyes to his own mother, Queen Libra, after his coronation, instead of looking for a wife. Allegedly, the prince took the queen by force and henceforth used her at his will. I hasten to point out that this is all a vile lie. Prince Angus is one of the greatest of the Serpent Slayer's family line and one of the greatest commanders of Incuria."

Darian's mind was a blur as he slumped back in his chair, his thoughts drifting into dark and dangerous territory. He tried to shake the images from his head, but they clung to him stubbornly like a bad hangover. The beer in his blood wasn't helping matters either, making everything before him swirl and distort like a hallucination.

A sudden memory of the queen's chambers invaded his thoughts, sending a jolt of guilt and desire through his body. He could feel his hand reaching for her, as if pulled by some invisible force, almost seeing her naked body before him. He shook his head, trying to clear the unwanted thoughts from his mind, but they lingered like a stubborn stain.

Darian rose abruptly from his seat, feeling the cool evening breeze on his face as he tried to gather his thoughts.

/I shouldn't think about such things....its drink's fault/

He glanced back at the book lying on his desk, the page still open to the damning accusation against Prince Angus. He slammed the book shut and went to bed, hoping to clear his mind of the unwanted thoughts.

----

As the days passed, King Inglud grew increasingly impatient for Darian to choose a wife. But the prince's thoughts remained in turmoil, unable to find the right match. On a quiet morning, Darian found himself standing in front of queen's chambers once more. He entered without looking up, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts. Only when he had crossed halfway across the room did he realize Nymira was breastfeeding her child near the window.

"I beg your pardon, my queen." Darian's face flushed with embarrassment. He should have knocked before entering.

"It's all right," Nymira replied, stepping back from the window and towards the fireplace. "You have always been welcome here, even unannounced. Besides, I'm sure you've seen me half-naked before."

Darian couldn't help but feel uneasy at her words. He recalled the events of the previous day and wondered if mother had become colder towards him after their encounter.

"I should probably come back another time." Darian bowed, ready to turn around and leave.

"Would you like to hold him?" Nymira held the baby out to him.

Darian hesitated for a moment before nodding, his gaze fixed on the baby in her arms. As she passed the child to him, Darian struggled to keep his eyes from wandering downward.

Nymira walked over and held the baby out into his arms, pulling child away from her lush breast. He saw mother's nipple for a brief moment before she covered it with her nightgown.

"The king will be here shortly. Have you decided on your wife yet? Is that what you came to discuss?" Nymira's tone was polite but distant, as though she were simply going through the motions of a conversation. Darian shook his head.

"Not yet. I am still considering my options."

Darian gazed down at Tartuf. The child's tiny hands wrapped around his own fingers.

As Nymira went to change, Darian turned away, gently bouncing the child in his arms. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders as he considered the daunting task of choosing a wife. The King's expectations were high.

"The requirements of conquerors," he repeated, his mind racing with thoughts of political strategy and dynastic succession. "It's not just about love, is it?"

Nymira emerged from the closet, now dressed in a new green nightgown with a sweetheart neckline. Her blond hair was twisted up into a bun, and Darian couldn't help but notice the curve of her neck and the delicate lines of her collarbone.

"You can give him to me now," she said, holding out her hands for Tartuf. Darian reluctantly handed the child back, feeling a pang of regret as he watched Nymira cradle him to her chest.

"You're a bad babysitter," she teased, and Darian couldn't help but grin.

"I'll be better with one of mine," he replied wistfully, his mind drifting to a future that might never come to pass.

As they stood in silence, the crackling of the fire and the occasional whimper of the child filling the room, Darian felt a sudden sense of connection to his mother.

Perhaps it was the flickering flames casting a soft glow on her features, or the vulnerability of the young child in her arms. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if there was more to her than he had ever known.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence. "For barging in here like this. I should have knocked."

Nymira smiled at him, a glint of mischief in her eye. "Don't worry about it," she said.

"You're always welcome here, whether I'm dressed or not."

Nymira's gaze drifted over him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You know, I've been thinking," she began. "Maybe it's time we spend more time together, just the two of us. We can go for walks, talk about anything and everything."

Darian's eyes widened in surprise. It had been years since they had done anything like that. He had always assumed that his mother was too busy with her duties as queen to spend time with him.

"Guess It wouldn't be so bad," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, mother."

The doors creaked open, as they had done so many times before, and Braga barged in, bellowing out his usual command.

"The King demands your presence in the throne room, my lady," he announced, his tone harsh and gruff.

Nymira let out a weary sigh. "Very well," she said, resigned. "Please summon Gertrude to take the child."

Turning her attention back to Darian, she added, "I apologize for the abruptness of my departure, Darian. Duty calls."

"It's quite alright," Darian replied, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I'll take my leave then," he muttered, and walked out of the chamber, the door shutting behind him with a resounding thud.

CHAPTER 3

That night, memories flooded Darian's mind of a warm summer day from years ago.

The memory of Inguria battling against the first Barbarian attacks, and he, Nome, and other soldiers sitting around a crackling campfire, singing songs. The camaraderie and sense of brotherhood among the soldiers were palpable. Nome, with his bushy chestnut beard, had gazed up at the star-filled sky and said, "The air of home is sweeter than honey."

Darian, taking a bite of the juicy apple he had plucked from a nearby tree, had voiced his concern. "But aren't you afraid of tomorrow's battle? We could die tomorrow."

"It's better to die fighting for our freedom than to live without it," replied Nome. "To live as we choose, eat until our bellies are full, and sleep with whomever we please." The soldiers nodded in agreement, their voices joining in support of Nome's words. His eloquence never failed to inspire them.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers broke the moment with a joke. "I'm in love with my aunt. Can I sleep with her?" he laughed.

Nome's response was quick, "If you're worthy of her, my friend, then you can. That's freedom. Marry and sleep with whoever you want. Even with your own mother."

The laughter and clinking of beer glasses filled the air as they all cheered to freedom, including Darian.

Years later, as Darian got up from his bed, the memory of that night still lingered. Dawn was breaking outside, and he took out the book.

"According to untrue rumors, Prince Angus allegedly turned his eyes to his own mother, Queen Libra, after his coronation, instead of looking for a wife. Allegedly, the prince took the queen by force and henceforth used her at his will".

His eyes scanned the page, and he continued reading. "Rumors are silent as to whether Angus had children as a result of intercourse with the queen." He closed the book, but the words lingered in his mind, stirring up a new voice inside his head. The voice whispered, "Who is more worthy to continue the Serpent-Slayer bloodline than his mother? She is the only queen capable of bringing Serpent Slayers to life."

Darian's thoughts wandered to Nymira, and he felt a longing to touch her. Why would he bother looking for someone else when he already had her? He questioned himself. Wasn't that what freedom was all about? To marry and sleep with whomever you wanted? He knew he was treading on dangerous territory, but the temptation was too strong to resist.

Darian found his thoughts drifting back to Prince Angus once again. What was it that drew him to this forbidden desire? As he entertained visions of himself as king, Darian felt the seductive pull of absolute power and the exhilarating freedom that came with it. The allure of indulging in his most illicit desires was impossible to resist. And ultimately Prince Angus gave in to temptation. He fucked the most unattainable woman in every man's life. His own mother. And at this very moment he became "Angus The Great".

Finally his inner voices became meaningful.

--

As the sun began to set, Darian made his way towards the queen's chambers, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Braga, the guard posted outside, eyed him warily before reluctantly granting him entrance.

"May I come in, mother?" Darian asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors. Nymira looked up from her desk, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Of course, Darian. I was just writing letters to your sisters before retiring for the night." Gertrude, Nymira's faithful servant, bustled around the room tidying up, casting a curious glance at Darian as he entered. The sweet scent of mint filled the air, and Darian couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease wash over him.

He suddenly realized the absurdity of his earlier thoughts, but he pushed them aside and focused on the present moment.

"Would you like me to send a message to your sisters on your behalf?" Nymira asked, her tone gentle.

Darian let out a derisive snort. "I thought they were enamored with the insipid prince they married. They can now face the consequences of their choices."

"Please refrain from speaking of your sisters in such a disrespectful manner in my presence...Gertrude, leave us, please."

The maid bowed and walked out the door. The queen dipped her quill into the inkwell and continued writing.

"Tomorrow I plan to embark on a horseback ride. Would you care to join me, Darian?"

Darian hesitated, "I fear that the king would not approve of me taking leisurely horse rides instead of attending to my duties."

Nymira flashed a reassuring smile, "Leave that to me. I will speak to the king about it. Besides, I require assistance in calming down the horses. As you know, it is mating season, and our prized stallion seems to have forgotten that his own mother is in the stable. We should avoid them breeding."

Darian felt a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him at the thought of accompanying his mother on a ride. "I will be honored to help you, my queen," he replied, trying to hide his eagerness.

"That's good. By the way, have you found a wife for yourself?" she asked.

Darian nodded, and as he did, he noticed a change in the queen's usually stern countenance. Her gray eyes softened as she regarded him.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, setting aside her quill and rising from her chair. "The king will be pleased."

As she stood up, Darian placed a hand on her shoulder to help her up. His eyes trailed down her body, drawn to the curves that were accentuated by her attire. He couldn't help but notice the warmth of her soft skin beneath his touch, and he was tempted to explore the curves of her body with his hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice as she took his hands and removed them from her waist.

"You know that I love you?" Darian took a deep breath.

Nymira's face registered a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She wasn't sure what to make of Darian's sudden declaration of love. Was he playing some kind of game?

"Of course I know that, Darian," she said. "But what you just did was completely inappropriate."

As his hand reached out to caress her hair, he leaned in for a kiss. Their lips touched in a fiery embrace, and Darian savored the taste of her mouth, exploring every inch of it until she abruptly pushed him away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It was nothing more than an innocent kiss."

"It didn't feel that way," Nymira shot back, her voice laced with disappointment and anger. She pulled away from his arms. "That's enough. You better go. Braga!"

The bald guard burst into the chambers at her command.

"Yes, my queen," he said, his eyes darting between Nymira and Darian.

"Take the prince out," Nymira instructed. "He's not feeling well today." With that, she walked over to her youngest son's bed.

Without a word, the warrior grabbed the prince's arm and led him out of the chambers and into the dimly lit corridor.

"Stop touching me," Darian seethed, yanking his arm away from Braga's grasp.

"Do you know where your chambers are? Go back there," Braga retorted, his voice firm and unyielding. Darian's cheeks flushed with anger as he watched Braga walk away. He couldn't believe the audacity of the warrior, treating him like a child. But deep down, Darian knew that he was partly to blame for the situation he now found himself in.

As he walked down the dimly lit hallway, Narim appeared beside him.

"What happened in there?" Narim asked, his voice thick with concern.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Just pissed off the queen a little." Darian replied, his hand subconsciously touching his lips, still tingling from the memory of the recent kiss

"Be careful not to make our queen angry. She's called Nymira the Warrior for a reason," Narim warned with serious tone. "Young women from Wooded Mountains are trained to defend themselves and fight. They make excellent merchants and warriors, but few become wives of kings. There was one occasion when a spy infiltrated our castle and disguised himself as a guard. He intended to kill the queen but was met with fierce resistance. Needless to say, he didn't leave her chambers alive. Listen, Darian. You're a good kid. But you need to start thinking before you act. And you need to learn to control your impulses. If you don't, you're going to end up doing something you regret."

"May I ask what happened to the spy?" Darian inquired.

"You may, but I won't answer," Narim replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The queen doesn't like to speak of it."

He had always known that his mother was a formidable warrior, but he had never heard of this particular incident before. He wondered what other secrets lay hidden in her past, and if he would ever uncover them.

"Remember, queen belongs only to the king. Everyone knows it" Narim concluded.

"We'll see," Darian thought to himself.