Offspring with Queen Mother Pt. 06

Ultimately, the citizens came to accept the fact that King Darian had married his own mother, Queen Nymira, and that she had given birth to his child.

"Life is finally getting better," he held out a finger, watching the girl child play with it.

Nymira came up behind him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Your little brother is doing better. But there's still no news from Nome."

"He'll be back sooner or later. And accept things as they are. I'm sure of it." He kissed her lips.

Darian remembered the morning. Lokir had handed him a letter that was supposedly from Nome. But he never opened it.

CHAPTER 23.FINALE.

Darian, cloaked in shadowy robes and bundled in a thick scarf, embarked on an ascent to the city's highest point, on a snowy hill beside the castle. The heavy snowfall made it hard to see; he lifted the mask up and moved forward.

His gloved hand remained on the hilt of his sword, snug within its scabbard. At last, he conquered the summit, his breath visible in the frigid air as he removed his mask to survey the city below.

"In the shadowed halls of destiny, you once deemed me the feeblest among your progeny, the most inconspicuous of the Serpent-Slayers. But I achieved, father, something you deemed impossible. I ushered my mother into passion, into bed. I can do it with her many times as I want, have as many children as I want. Hear my vow. My legacy will be intertwined with the Serpent-Slayers, and your vaunted name, once held in reverence, will dwindle to a mere murmur, a distant whisper when my final strike lands, severing the head of your firstborn."

He thrust his sword into the snow-covered ground and retrieved Nome's letter from the pocket within the robes.

"I've had time to think. For the shame and the disgrace you have heaped upon me, for the theft of our mother's love, on the second day of winter meet me at the place where our father met the flames - Nome."

Darian threw the letter and clenched his hands around the sword's pommel. The muffled crunch of footsteps behind him shattered the silence.

=

"Only a fool would seek advice from a traitor."

"I know. But I want to believe that inside the traitor there is still someone I called my friend" Darian raised the torch above his head, illuminating the dark caverns of the dungeon.

The old man seated before him bore little resemblance to Counselor Narim, now reduced to a pitiful, wretched figure, unrecognizable from the friend Darian had known throughout his life.

"How do you defeat someone who could fight an army of barbarians? You could kill Inglud stealthily, Darian, but facing someone like Nome, his full-fledged doppelgänger, openly, would be suicide."

"Just what a traitor would want."

The old man sighed and coughed. "The air here is suffocating, damp. Turn Nome to your side. Show him my letters, tell him that the barbarians still pose a threat and that the army needs a general like him."

"And then what? Hope he gets killed, or wait for him to return? Nome hunger for revenge for mother's betrayal, and he won't stop until he gets what he desires."

Old counselor remained silent, staring at Darian with his lifeless grey eyes.

"I could have arranged an escape for you, Narim. But I don't think you'll stop to..."

"No," replied the old man sharply and hoarsely. "No. Just let me die. Tomorrow is my execution. I'm an old man, I don't want to die of old age, cowering, curled up in pain," he looked at Darian again. "Let it be quick. This time I ask as a friend."

Darian nodded, barely holding back tears. "I promise," he turned around, lighting the way out with his torch.

"Exploit your brother's weaknesses. If he's anything like Inglud, you know what to do," Narim said.

Darian paused for a moment, his face half-shadowed by the flickering torchlight. "Farewell, old friend," he stepped out, leaving the dungeon.

"Farewell, My King."

=

The footsteps intensified. Darian opened his eyes and pulled the sword out of the snow, turning around.

The snowfall began to settle. "So you've come, then. I must admit, I was afraid you wouldn't have the courage even for this, brother," Nome slung a massive battle-axe over his broad shoulder, his face overgrown with a thick red beard and greasy hair. Sunken eyes and circles testified to sleepless nights.

Darian looked him over, letting out a sigh. "Do you want to know something fascinating? Our father, a colossus in both leadership and warfare, a slayer of hundreds, triumphed in countless battles. And yet in his last seconds of life, he squirmed like a slug under my feet. He me called the worst of the Serpent-Slayers, but in the end, my face was the last thing Inglud the Serpent-Slayer, the Bear, saw when I slit his fat ugly throat. He writhed beneath like a serpent in its death throes. And I was a bear."

Nome lowered his axe from the shoulder, rumbling and stepping closer. "No more evasions, then. You confess to the murder of our father. For this, I'll gut your corpse and hang it over the castle gates. You betrayed our family, Darian. You slew our father not in honorable combat but because he deemed you feeble. That did you no honor or glory, brother."

"You think I killed him because of that? No, he crossed the line when he dared to touch my queen, thinking I didn't deserve her. You will die for the same thing. In this story, Nome, you are the serpent and I am the slayer."

"These are bold words for a coward who sneakily stabbed a king in the back. We are no longer children. My axe will be the avenger for our father, and your name, Darian, will be erased from the scrolls of history. Forever! Your offspring will be spared, for our mother's sake, to prevent her from suffering further."

Darian raised his sword, "We shall see."

A guttural roar erupted from Nome as he hoisted his axe above his head.

=

Darian gazed out of the window onto the castle square. The echoes of children's swordplay played in his mind, taking him back to the days when he and Nome were just kids.

"When I grow up, I'll become stronger than you," Darian proclaimed.

"Yeah, dream on, brother," Nome, the red-haired boy a head taller, swung a sharp stick and stabbed Darian in the finger.

"Ouch! That hurt," Darian winced.

"Are you about to shed tears, little brother?"

"Stop it, Nome, or I'll tell Mom!" Darian threw his stick away, shoving the bloody finger into the mouth.

"Come on! Fight me!" Nome swung his stick once more, putting all his might behind it. But this time, Darian dodged, and Nome's stick landed sharply on the ground, the pointed end firmly stuck.

Darian couldn't help but taunt, "Ha-ha. It looks like your stick found a new home."

"My king?!" Someone's voice from behind returned him back from memories. Darian half-turned at Lokir's call. The counselor stepped closer handing him the sword. Darian pulled it from its sheath, inspecting it and swiping it through the air.

"A blade of exceptional craftsmanship, forged by the kingdom's most skilled swordsman," said Lokir.

Jason, who stood near the door, chimed in, "This is a good sword. Your enemies won't stand a chance, Your Majesty."

Darian nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Lokir."

Lokir's voice turned more somber. "How are you feeling after Narim's execution? Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't," he returned the sword to its scabbard, staring straight at the counselor. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course. I'm here to answer King's questions."

"Why me?"

Lokir scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I don't quite understand. Why you what?"

"You had so many opportunities to betray me and to help Nome, someone who is more like our father. You swore allegiance to the Serpent-Slayers, but you chose me. Why?"

Lokir and Jason exchanged a knowing glance. "Because," Lokir began, "you didn't resort to executing us after Narim's ill-fated coup. Another Serpent-Slayer would have executed the entire guard just to intimidate the kingdom; he would execute even those who had helped him. You're not like other Serpent-Slayers, Darian. That's true. And Narim saw that as a weakness and tried to exploit it. I, too, initially viewed it as such, until I realized it is your strength. A kingdom built solely on fear is destined for ruin. You earned your respect, Darian. You earned your crown. You are our perfect king."

=

He deftly evaded the ax, swiftly countering with a slash of his sword across Nome's arm. With incredible force, Nome hurled him back into the snow with a massive hand.

The frost's grip began to tighten on Darian's muscles as he desperately crawled away, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Nome.

Red-haired chuckled, savoring the moment. "I enjoy it when events unfold just as I've foreseen. Crawl away, brat. "

Darian, rising to his feet despite the dizziness from Nome's previous blow, faced yet another menacing strike.

But with calculated precision, he still launched a ferocious assault with his sword, the blade cutting through the air with deadly intent. Nome, however, was no easy adversary, effortlessly parrying the attack and retaliating with a counterstrike.

Darian parried and with a precise thrust he breached the armor on Nome's chest, inflicting a minor wound.

"You are really worth something after all," Nome smirked.

"Just shut up," Darian attacked again, overconfident in his strength. Nome deflected the attack and, with his colossal gauntlet, delivered a crushing blow directly to Darian's temple. The world spun as Darian screamed, thrown backward, his vision obscured by a blinding pain. The blow severely damaged his eye and cut the skin. Darian barely got up, swinging the sword, seeing nothing in front of him. The snowstorm intensified.

" "That's it?" a voice sneered from just inches away from Darian's ear, and Nome delivered a merciless kick to his stomach, sending Darian tumbling face-first into the snow with a heavy thud. "I'm disappointed. What are you fighting for, Darian? For the throne or for our dear mother? Is she really worth it? I've only tasted her once, and it was a nightmare. I don't understand your fervor; I don't understand how you can do this. "

He thought about Nymira. "I won't die like this," Darian's vow cut through the biting wind, his teeth gritted against the pain. The determination in his eyes, fueled by love, sparked a glimmer of hope.

=

"Where are you going in this weather?" Nymira was standing by the window breastfeeding a baby girl. She wore a green royal dress with furs at the neck. Her breasts peeked out through the slit of the dress, placed in a baby's mouth. She looked tired and exhausted.

"There is one thing I should do," he wrapped a scarf around his neck and dressed warmer.

"Why are you involved in something I'm unaware of?" she walked over, rocking the girl in her arms, and kissed his cheek. "You don't have to lie to me, darling. I know when you do, after all, I am the one who cradled you in my arms and watched you take your first steps. You see how my life has changed, how much I've sacrificed for you, Darian. So why? Why are you lying to me now?"

He looked into her eyes. "To protect you. It's... about Nome. I have an informant who knows where he is."

Nymira set the girl aside on the bed, she seemed too nervous to say anything.

"Nome is probably far away by now. He won't forgive us for our marriage," she forewarned.

He stepped closer. "Mom," whispered Darian, his eyes searching her face, "can you truly be prepared for the possibility of him not making it out alive? It's possible that our enemies could... you know."

Nymira gazed into the distance for a moment. "I would despise with every fiber of my being the one who brought harm to him," she finally spoke. "I would harbor an unyielding thirst for vengeance, and with every beat of my heart, swear to see justice served."

She turned and smiled with the corner of her mouth. "But there's nothing to worry about, I know it. My firstborn son isn't as easily felled as you might think, Darian." Leaning forward, she pressed a tender kiss upon his forehead.

He breasts were still in full view. With a tender touch, he traced his finger delicately over her nipple, wiping away a droplet of milk, and then tasted it. "Be ready when I am back, Mom."

As he made his way toward the door, she added, "I'll be waiting."

=

His head throbbed with excruciating pain. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his vision clearing just enough to discern the looming silhouette of his older brother. "It's over, Darian."

"No matter how this day unfolds - history will remember you as a fratricide and a turncoat. The council and the guards have pledged their loyalty to me."

A defiant fire ignited in Nome's eyes, and he retorted, "Then I'll execute everyone. Lokir, Jason. Everyone!"

"But, above all, remember this," Darian sneered, hardly breathing. "Our mother will never embrace you as she did me."

"Shut up!" Nome swung his axe furiously. "I will become the greatest king! And our mother will be only mine!"

Darian dodged every attack. In a final, powerful swing, Nome aimed downward, causing the axe to embed itself into the ground. The blade stuck for a few seconds, but it was enough.

"Your weakness - your arrogance," Darian brought his sword forward and stabbed at an open spot on his armor, at the same very wound. The blade pierced through Nome's body, penetrating his chest.

"Aggh-h-h-h-h-h-h," Nome grunted in agony. Darian withdrew the sword, and Nome, dropping his axe, clutched desperately at the wound as torrents of blood streamed forth, staining the pristine snow beneath.

"It's not... over," Nome gasped, his voice strained, collapsing into the unforgiving snow. Darian caught the massive body as it descended. Nome's eyes mirrored the cold landscape around them. "It hurts. Why is it so cold?" his words were punctuated by labored breaths as Darian clutched at the seeping wound. "So that's how it is... That's how dying feels, brother."

"I'm sorry it ended this way, old brother."

Nome was breathing heavily, his eyes darting. "Maybe, after all, you were not a hopeless Serpent Slayer," Nome managed to utter, a fleeting smile crossing his face. He gave a final, rasping breath, his life slipping away in his brother's arms.

After sitting for a while, Darian gently lowered their brother's lifeless form into the snow. The once-pristine canvas now bore the stark contrast of red snow, a poignant reminder of the battle's toll. Standing up, Darian picked up Nome's massive axe from the blood-soaked ground.

"Your skull would make a fine mug."

With a single, decisive swing, he prepared to sever the head.

=

Fatigued, Darian moved wearily through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, declining any offered assistance.

Each step felt like a burden, and a trail of crimson droplets marked his passage, escaping from a concealed bundle in his possession. With care, he stowed the bloodied secret in a hidden alcove within his chambers.

Despite the hindrance of a throbbing eye impairing his vision, Darian persevered. His destination held an allure that outweighed the physical toll he bore.

He pushed, opening the doors leading to the queen's chambers.

Nymira sat gracefully in the middle of the room, her legs crossed on an old bed. Her blonde hair fell loosely around her beautiful face, and her gown hugged her gently. Shadows played on the walls, creating a mysterious atmosphere. When the door opened, she looked at Darian and said, "I've been waiting."

Her eyes widened as she examined him "Oh my god, Darian. What happened?" Her concern blossomed into action, prompting her to rise from the bed and approach him with an urgency fueled by genuine worry. A hand reached out to trace the lines of wounds etched on his worn visage.

"Bumped into a bear," Darian offered with a weary smirk. "Nome won't return, Mom. I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath, her large breasts rising just in front of his face and then lowering again. "It's okay. I know he wouldn't. It will be better for us without him," Nymira responded with a quiet understanding. She hugged him, bringing him to her bare soft chest. He could feel the heat of her breasts, the softness, and her gentle motherly touch around his head.

"You need to see a healer," Nymira insisted, her concern now etched with the sternness of maternal care.

"You are my best healer. Tell me something, Mother," he continued, his tone shifting as he kissed her with hunger, savoring the bittersweet taste of her mouth. "Am I your favorite son?"

"Why are you asking, Darian? A mother cannot have favorites."

"But you're an unconventional mother, aren't you?" he touched her ass through the gown.

"Unconventional, perhaps. Now, can I comfort you with my warmth?" Her hand gently caressed his cheek, a gesture filled with both maternal tenderness and a subtle hint of something more.

He kissed her, and the world outside seemed to fade away. The silk of her gown whispered promises of solace, and he laid her on the bed. His hands traced the contours of her form. While examining her body, a thought suddenly struck him. "I killed my brother today, but I can always make a new one."

"Wait," she interrupted the kiss.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Can you promise me that someday this will come to an end? Our relationship. It can't go on forever, Darian."

"As long as you're my queen, Mom, we can do whatever we want and as long as we want."

"But promise me that you'll bring it to an end, sooner or later. Stop being with me, and we'll be a family once again. And maybe then your brother will come back."

He smiled slightly. "I promise." And then thought, "She should have realized a long time ago that I'm very bad at keeping promises.'"

Without a second thought, he pushed his hips forward and entered his mother's pussy. They both shuddered with pleasure. His cock began to move deeper and deeper into her.

As he reached the end, he slowly moved his hips back, gradually working his way through her pussy, she cried out again, and the sensation of pleasure hit his mind.

"Ooohhhhh. Yeah, Mom..." he mumbled. He fucked her wildly, clearly enjoying every moment it. She will never know that her son's murderer is fucking her right now. He pressed forward with powerful, rhythmic movements. "I love you, Mom."

"Uggggghhhhh... Darian" was the only thing she could utter under his thrusts. Her guts squeezed his cock sweetly, sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through his veins, enjoying every second of penetrating her.

"Ohhhh shit, you are so good," he kissed her intensely, ravaging her pussy, thrusting inside her and increasing speed.

"Watch your language," she ran her hands caressingly through his hair, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry about Nome, and I'm sorry about Inglud, Mom. Ohhh, but we will be better without them," she was too busy cumming on her son's cock to hear his words. Darian squeezed her breasts with all his might, wrapping his palms around them.

"Yes, yes. Ughhhhh," her body trembled as she pressed her teeth into her lip. With a brief but intense moment, she tightly shut her eyes and shuddered once more, feeling the sensation coursing through her.

He made several quick thrusts, pounding his birthplace. She moaned, her breasts shaking with each thrust of his hips. The sudden ripples made her breasts start to release milk. He couldn't miss this opportunity and took one of her nipples into his mouth.

She shrieked, not expecting this, and motherly scratched the back of his head again. "This is for you, darling," he sucked the milk, never stopping fucking her. It was magnificent; it was worth all the pain and suffering he went through. Humping his mom, fucking her like an animal.

Darian kept pounding her pussy. With each passing second, the waves of pleasure grew stronger and more intense. Nymira opened her eyes, breathing heavily and recovering from her copious orgasm.