Offspring with Queen Mother Pt. 02

Narim held out the key, and Darian hastily hid it beneath the prisoner's robes. "Thank you anyway, my friend," he said, his voice softer now.

"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.

Lokir stepped forward and rapped on the wooden door. "I'm here with Prince Darian."

The next moment Gertrude, queen's servant, opened the door and the prince found himself in a small room with a stone table in its center. The pale and lifeless body of King was located on it. Meanwhile Narim, Braga and Nymira were around. His Mother was pale in face, dressed in black dress, hair loose.

"I'm glad you're still alive," the queen said briefly. The image from the dream reappeared before his eyes, and he turned away, staring at the cold dead body of the bearded king.

"What happened?" he asked his voice barely above a whisper. "Who did this?"

"I wish someone knew... Perhaps it's done by our very spy that we still unable to find." Hastly said Braga. "And look... The king is dead know. I just can't believe it"

"It was your job to guard him, baldhead!" snapped Lokir.

"He was with queen" Braga glanced at her and immediately regretted what he had said. ""My men saw an unknown man on the wall last night. I am sure the murderer has already fled, and it is the work of barbarians."

"There is no time for quarrels," Narim wheezed with his aged voice, his face wrinkled with concern. "The kingdom cannot afford to be without a ruler. We must decide who will now replace the king."

"Nómé will take his place," Nymira declared confidently.

"If he is still alive, Queen," Narim said, his voice carrying a note of caution.

"I am sure my son is alive. Send a pigeon with a letter." Nymira replied.

Lokir coughed, drawing Nymira's attention. "I must remind you of the rules, my lady," he said carefully. "If Nome does not reply to the letter within half a month, then..."

"Darian will be king." Nymira finished for him, cutting him off abruptly. "I know, Lokir. In the meantime, I want you and Narim to take over the governing functions of our king."

"Can't I do that?" Darian asked.

"As long as you're not king, boy, no," Lokir said firmly.

"The assassin may target you as well, Darian," Narim added gravely. "And you may suffer the same fate as our king." He lightly kicked the king's body with his stick, and Darian caught a whiff of persistent corpse odor. "You must take care of your own safety."

"I need to leave the castle," said the queen again, sighing, her breasts flirtatiously lifted. "It is too dangerous here now."

Braga, who had been standing quietly in the background, stepped forward. "I will protect you, my lady. I promise."

Nymira fixed him with a steely gaze. "Just as you protected my husband?"

Darian's mind raced as he contemplated the possibility of his mother leaving the castle. He couldn't allow it. Everything he had worked towards would be for naught if she left.

"You can't go," Darian retorted sharply, his eyes locked on his mother.

"And why is that? Tartuf and I would be safer elsewhere."

"Because that's exactly what they want. Leave the castle and you'll be attacked on the royal highway, ambushed by those who seek to harm us. The castle, despite what happened, is still the safest place for us."

The queen squinted as she looked at her son, pulling her head away as if she were seriously considering his warning.

"I think Darian is right, my lady," Narim interjected, stepping closer to the queen.

"As much as I hate to say it, I agree with the prince. I will ensure your safety within the castle walls." Braga nodded in agreement

"Then it is settled. You stay with me, mother," Darian declared firmly, his eyes flickering to Lokir, who had been silently listening to their conversation. "Now I better go," he muttered, eager to escape the smell of death that still lingered in the air.

As he began to walk away, Darian heard a voice behind him, taunting him. "Somehow he's not too upset by the king's death," the voice sneered, probably belonging to Braga.

"That's because he's about to become king, you dickhead," Lokir snapped, his voice filled with contempt. "If I were him, I would jump for joy." Darian ignored the jibe, feeling a heavy weight settle on his shoulders

===

The next day, Darian arrived at the royal baths in the early morning, preparing for funerals. The steam from the hot water filled the room as servants bustled about, preparing the Queen for her bath. Darian watched as Nimira changed behind a screen, and then tossed a large, soft towel around herself. As the servants worked to fix her unruly hair, Nymira caught sight of Darian's reflection in the mirror.

"Come to take a bath, Darian? Come back later, I'm here today," she said, with a wry smile.

Darian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, Queen. I just came to see how you are"

Nymira sighed. "I am utterly exhausted by everything that has been happening in the castle. I do not know who is a friend and who is an enemy, and my husband, our king, has been killed. And my eldest son is nowhere to be found."

Darian stepped closer to Nymira, and the servants instinctively stepped back. "You can trust me, Queen. I will protect you until Nome arrives."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the steam from the baths enveloping them. Darian's gaze drifted down to his mother's collarbones, visible above the towel she had draped around herself He couldn't resist running his fingers over the soft, spotted skin, marveling at how delicate she seemed in that moment. His fingers tracing the contours of her collarbones as he worked his way down to her soft, spotted skin. Nymira closed her eyes, relishing the comforting touch of her son.

"We will get through this, Mother. I promise you," Darian said, his voice a low whisper. His hands slowly moved lower and lower, reaching down to the towel and dipping underneath it. He felt a thrill course through him as her nipples hardened beneath the towel, a sure sign that she was enjoying his touch, her neck slightly trembered, and wondered if it was from the cold or from something else entirely. The air between them felt electric, charged with unspoken desire.

"Yes... Darian," she moaned.

Darian hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You know, I still intend to do my father's last will."

"Last will?" Nymira stoped his touch and half turned around, her gray eyes wide with surprise with eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"To marry you," Darian whispered, making sure that the servants behind him couldn't hear. "And it's the only way I can protect you."

For a moment, Nymira didn't know what to say. Then she saw the determination in her son's eyes and realized what he was offering her. With a deep breath, she turned back to the mirror and ran a comb through her hair, attempting to maintain a sense of composure despite the sudden rush of emotions.

"I don't think I quite understand you," she said finally. "Or maybe I don't want to. You can't marry me, Darian. You're my son, and I'm your mother. Let's leave it at that. I cannot go against the laws of nature and society..."

Darian's face remained impassive. "We can keep it a secret. No one has to know. As for our relationship, it will remain unchanged. We will continue to love and care for each other as we always have. And as for the people...they don't need to know the details of our private lives. All they need to know is that their queen is safe and protected."

Nymira took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. "It's not just about keeping it a secret. I love you, Darian, but we cannot marry. It's just not possible. That's it. When Nome returns, everything is going to be as it was before... Now leave me. Right now I intend to have a bath if you haven't noticed."

As the words left her mouth, Nymira's heart ached with sadness. She had never imagined that her son would express such feelings for her, and the idea of marrying him...

Darian's couldn't hide his dissapointment, but he also comprehended her response. He bowed respectfully and turned to leave.

"Wait," Nymira called out softly. "I'm flattered by your proposal, Darian, truly. But you must understand that it's impossible. I appreciate your love for me, but you and I, we share a special bond as mother and son, but that's where it ends. We can't let our feelings get in the way of our duties to the kingdom and our people. Promise me you won't speak of this again."

Darian nodded, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I promise"

CHAPTER 8. COUNSELORS APPROVE

With his problems, Darian came to someone he had never expected to ask for advice: Lokir.

As he entered the man's cabinet, the overpowering smell of garlic and socks hit him like a wall. Despite the low ceiling, the room felt cluttered with various scrolls and books scattered haphazardly across the table, the floor, and even under the table. It gave an accurate impression of what kind of man Lokir was: disorganized, but incredibly knowledgeable.

Without a king he and Narim had a lot of stuff to do so Darian didn't want to bother counselor for too long.  But as he was about to speak, a small balding man in black stepped out of the room, barely bowing to Darian.

"How may I help?" Lokir appeared from behind a towering stack of books, picking up some scrolls from the floor.

"I have a serious topic to discuss"

I'm all ears," Lokir said, throwing up his hands. Something in his voice cracked with mockery. "You may have a seat, if you wish."

Darian sat down on the uncomfortable little chair, trying to ignore the scattered papers that Lokir had carelessly thrown around them..