Queen Yavara Ch. 11

LEVERIA

I walked to the dungeons, my footsteps echoing into the still night. The guard nodded to me and opened the iron door. He guided me by torchlight through the catacombs, the wails and shrieks of captured beasts echoing through the halls. I followed with one hand on his shoulder, carefully watching my footsteps as I navigated the uneven stairs. A familiar voice reached my ears. Mother's sobs rang through the dark halls, each new lamentation punctuated by a whimper. Her cell was lit with torches, a courtesy reserved for imperial prisoners, no doubt. That was the only courtesy given. Her wrists were shackled loosely in her lap, and her ankles were clamped firmly to the floor. She had enough room to squat if she had the strength, and relieve herself in the bucket beside her. The state of her dress told me she wasn't very accurate. I bit my hand to suppress the laugh. To see the proud, elegant and noble Trenaria Tiadoa lowered to such a state was positively delightful. I tried to imagine Yavara the same way, but couldn't. Truth be told, I took after Mother much more than Yavara did. Yavara was all jawline, cheekbones and chin, while Mother and I were portraited much more delicately.

"Leave us." I said to the guard, taking his keys.

Mother's grief muted at the sound of my voice. She searched the darkness, her eyes squinting to discern what the torchlight had left behind. "Leveria? Is that you?"

"Yes, Mother." I said as I stepped into the torchlight.

Her face twisted. "It's so good to see you!"

"I needed to come." I said, reaching the bars of her cell, "I couldn't let you spend your last night alone."

"This doesn't have to be my last night!" Mother cried, "Leveria, you must go to your father and convince him that Glendian is lying! You always had a way with him. Please, go tell him that I never betrayed him!"

"Didn't you say you laid with an incubus?"

"I did, and I'm ashamed," Mother said, averting my gaze, "but I never knew about any of the other things Glendian spoke of."

"I want to believe you." I said, resting my head against the bars, "But how can I, Mother? My word might mean something to Father, but I won't lie." I gave her a somber look, "I think he's been lied to enough on your behalf."

Mother gulped, her eyes filled with shame. If only she'd known I wasn't talking about her. "Glendian has a journal." Mother finally said, "All the headmasters keep one. A meeting with the queen about cryptic census information would surely be noteworthy. Make him prove he met with me."

"He would just say you made him strike it from the record."

"He can't strike it from the record. Those journals are spellbound; he said so himself." Mother offered a rueful smile, "I wish I'd thought of it when I was up there, but I was never as quick-witted as you or your father."

"Glendian's journal..." I pondered. That had been an egregious oversite on my part, "If someone were to produce it to Father with just the right amount of conviction, it could blow Glendian's entire account to the wind. It would at least force a stay of execution."

"That's all I need, just a week." Mother insisted with a nod, her eyes filled with desperate hope, "Clartias hates me now, but it will cool with enough time."

Oh Mother, I thought, You've been married to him for decades, and you don't even know him. Father's hatred is colder than ice. But I didn't say anything, only stared at her, watching her equanimity crumble with every second of silence. Her gaze faltered, and she bowed her head.

"I was always so cruel to you, Leveria." Mother whispered, "I'm so sorry. You're such a good daughter, such a sweet girl."

"You never loved me." I said flatly.

"But I did!" Mother insisted, "I was just... I never wanted to be a mother, and it was only after I'd failed with you that I realized my error. I didn't love Yavara more than you; I was just better practiced."

"Or was it because you knew Yavara was not of Father's blood?"

"No!" Mother said with such fervor that it couldn't be a lie. She wasn't that good a liar, "Clartias and I had our differences, but I loved him! How could I know Yavara wasn't his?! Leveria, you must know in your heart of hearts that I speak the truth about Glendian! Someone in the Noble Court got to him! I never knew I carried the Dark Queen in my womb!"

"Who, Mother?" I demanded, "If it is a plot, then who laid it?" I grabbed the bars between us and glared down at her, "You know how this works, and I hate it as much as you do, but it's how the world is. You need to point the finger at someone else!"

"Lord Xantian?" Mother climbed to her feet, "Everyone knows he's had his ambitions set on Tundra silver. A war would increase his chances to claim them by conquest."

"Xantian is a shrewd businessman, and not one to risk such a gamble."

"Lady Jonias has always had eyes for Clartias." Mother spat, "She's a bold one."

"Bold and stupid." I sighed, "I've uncovered her 'plots' before, though she did very little to keep them concealed."

"Not Feractian, not Huntiata, and certainly not Straltaira..." Mother puzzled over it, "Droughtius? He's the field marshal. He would have a lot to gain from war."

"And his father killed Glendian's in a duel."

Mother let out long breath, then said, "Ternias."

"Your own cousin?"

"You know how he is." Mother sneered, "Always the smartest man in the room, always so careful. His plots have plots."

"But what would he have to gain?"

"He's third in line, though it wasn't like I stood in his way. Yavara did, but he doesn't have to worry about her anymore." Mother snorted, resting her head against the wall, "Still, he's the only one of them who could've pulled it off."

"Is he?" I asked, "Think, Mother; who has the most to gain from your death?"

"I don't know!" Mother cried, "I lost my worth the moment I married your father! Ever since then my only value has been my ability to make children!" Mother dropped her head, "And even that, I failed at. Oh, Yavara..." Mother sniffled, "I know I should hate her, but I can't. You think it's because I'm a traitor, but it's just mother's love. You'll understand when you have a child."

I placed a hand on my belly. "Then I'll reach enlightenment in the winter."

Mother's gaze shot to mine, and her face broke into a wide smile. "You're pregnant?"

I nodded.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mother's joy was unfeigned and unfettered, "I'm so happy for you and Eric!"

"It's a boy."

"Well, you can't know that yet." Mother smiled crookedly at me, "Everyone always proclaims it's a boy, and half are disappointed."

"But I know." I said, resting my other hand on my belly, "And I have decided to name him Clartias, after his father."

"After your father." Mother corrected with a small laugh.

"Yes, that too." I chuckled back. Mother laughed with me for a second, then her smile slowly faded. A frown creased her lips when she looked at me, and I stared implacably back. Then her frown unhinged, and her eyes went wide, and I saw in their depths the pieces aligning. Every little suspicion she'd denied and discarded, every whisper she'd decided not to hear, every spot of red lipstick on Father's collar she decided was the result of a shaving error. They clicked into perfect place behind her eyes, and the mosaic they made was of a horror worse than the gallows or the noose. For I'd taken her past, her very identity, and I'd shattered it. God, it was beautiful.

"No." She whispered, unable to give voice to the words.

"Yes," I smiled broadly, "for six years, Father has loved me. Not you, Mother, never you. You were only ever a means to an end for him, and that end was me. I made sure of it."

"No." She couldn't believe it, "No."

"The truth is always so painful." I laughed at her, "Though in your case, I suspect the lie is quite excruciating as well. But don't worry, Mother, I'm here for you." I pulled the lever beside the door, and the chain that linked Mother's wrists to the ceiling grew taut. She was forced upright with her hands overhead, and I made sure to crank the lever until her ankles and wrists were white with pressure. Then I opened the door, and dropped my bag of goodies on the floor before her. "You know, I've never tortured someone before. I've had people tortured, of course; it's a necessary evil of spycraft, and while it can be gruesome, I've found at times that it can also be quite... exhilarating." I pontificated as I searched my bag, "There's a sexual aspect to it that people rarely talk about. Oh, people rarely talk about such a taboo subject as it is, but when they do it's always about the victim. They never talk about the torturers." I pulled out a knife, and turned to Mother with a broad smile on my face. She just gawked at me, her eyes so wide they seemed to pop from her skull. "The torturers love their victims," I sauntered over to her, twirling the knife between my fingers, "for they give them unfettered truth." I stopped before Mother, so close I could nearly taste her breath. "Isn't that all sex is? A desire to make someone react to you with whole-hearted honesty? Even the most descriptive sonnet cannot translate as much truth as a single breathy moan." I slid the knife's blade slowly up her thigh, watching the terror rising in her eyes, "Or one ear-splitting shriek." I stopped a hair's breadth from her slit, her womanly heat radiating onto my hand, "Tonight, we are going to be very, very honest with each other, Mother."

I slashed upward. Mother screamed, but it was only with the expectation of pain. The blade sliced her dress from skirt to bodice, and the sleeveless garment cascaded from her in two halves. Mother was beautiful. Her forty years were barely expressed in the lines on her neck and the subtle drooping of her large breasts, but nowhere else. Her flesh was so white it was nearly porcelain, contrasting beautifully the pink targets of her nipples, and the blush of her womanhood. The hole I'd come from.

"There are many forms of torture besides physical pain." I said, setting the knife down, "A skilled torturer knows what best to employ for each victim." I smiled coyly at Mother, "I'm afraid I'm a virgin at this, so please don't judge my performance too harshly." I reached behind myself, and undid the lacing on my gown. The garment fell from me in a cascade of silk, revealing a black leather corset that ended above my naval, fishnet stockings, and nothing else. I watched with growing excitement as Mother's horror turned to revulsion.

"Don't you think I'm beautiful?" I grinned at her, "I've been told by the highest authority in the kingdom that I'm the most beautiful woman in the world." I reached between Mother's legs, and gently ran my fingers through her petals. She hissed and tore her gaze away, blinking tears down her cheeks. "Father was my first experience with a man. He showed me so much of what it meant to be a lover. Desire, rage, jealousy, and most of all, power. It only makes sense that you should be my first experience with a woman. Thank you for giving me this."

I pushed my fingers inside. Mother gasped, her neck striating with cords, her jaw twitching. I breathed excitedly onto her throat as I explored her insides with three digits, savoring the heat of her, the softness, and the wetness.

"I've never raped anyone before." My words were punctuated with breath, "I never understood why such brutish pleasures would appeal to anyone, but now I see. There's an art to it, isn't there? You are an orchestra of emotion, and I am the conductor. I will make you play beautiful music." I pressed myself to her, breast to breast, thigh to thigh, "How weak a woman you are, to lose your husband to your own daughter!" My thumb pressed into her clit, rubbing vigorously until it engorged on its own accord, "What kind of a wife so fails her spouse that he seeks the pleasure of his own child?"

Mother shut her eyes tight, the tears filming at their creases. The muscles in her jaw twitched, but she would not relent a sound.

"The things he did to me, Mother..." I moaned on her throat, "I never said 'no' to him. While you laid there like a corpse to take his cock, he was thinking about me consuming him with relish in any hole he so desired, in any way he so desired." I chuckled lowly, "He even had me chained up like you once, only I wasn't weeping like a bitch, but begging like a whore!"

Mother gritted her teeth and whined, the tears rolling freely down her cheeks. My fingers were thick with her nectar, coerced by a pleasure she didn't want, but could not deny.

"And now here you are, trying not to moan as your own daughter rapes you, trying not to come to the idea of her fucking your husband, her father." My thighs were wet with my arousal, "You're going to die tomorrow, Mother, so why not enjoy tonight? Stop resisting what your body craves." I licked her from collar to chin, drawing a wet line up her clenching neck, "Come on, show me the woman who opened her legs for a monster!"

I pushed every finger of my molesting hand into her heat, and felt her close gratefully around me, her moist walls fluttering with glee. Her clit was engorged and red, throbbing wildly under my thumb, but despite it all, she kept her pride. Even when her pelvis contracted, and her belly clenched with ecstasy, all she did was hiss through clenched teeth as she saturated my wrist and thighs with her release.

"I must commend you, Mother." I said breathily, my vision hazed with my arousal, "You're stronger than I thought." I withdrew from her, her petals opening about my retreat, my fingers webbed with her viscous lust, "It's strange," I mused, bringing the hand to my face, "I don't think I've ever been attracted to a woman before, but you," I smelled what was on my hand, and shivered, "you've awoken something in me. I didn't think you had anything worth teaching me, but how wrong I was." I tested my fingers with a tentative lick, then grinned up at her, "You are teaching me so many things I didn't know about myself." I walked away, sucking my fingers clean.

I reached into my bag, and pulled out a long syringe. It was filled with purple fluid that bubbled when disturbed. "When I asked my head interrogator about the best ways to torture a woman, he eagerly gave me a list. Most involved inserting sharp hot objects into sensitive places. I told him I needed something more refined. He told me about this," I turned around and presented the syringe, "succubus blood extract. The Sea Snakes use it on slave cargo bound for the orc empire across the sea. Frightened maidens are loaded in Ardeni, and mindless breed-mares are unloaded in Hektinar."

I paced methodically toward Mother. "If you don't open your eyes, I will cut your lids off." I said quietly. Her eyes crept open, unleashing the flood of tears she'd kept there. I wiped one away with my thumb, and tasted it. "Delicious." I smirked, then grabbed one of her breasts, and angled the nipple toward myself. She shuddered, her hands clenching to fists above her shackles. "I am deathly curious to see the effects of this." I said, rubbing my thumb over her nipple until it was hard and moist, "You're a test run, you see." I aimed the point of the needle, "If this works how I hope it will, I intend to use it for my espionage program." I pushed the needle into her nipple, and smiled as she whimpered, "I figure that if a band of filthy pirates can break women with just a chemical, then imagine what I can do with it. What ideas could I plant into a broken mind before building her back up, and sending her on her way?" I depressed the plunger, and looked into Mother's eyes as they bulged, "Unfortunately for us, I'm afraid there isn't enough time to build you back up. We only have time for the breaking."

Mother's pupils contracted to dots, then expanded to consume her sapphire irises. She convulsed violently in her binds, the chains rattling, her wrists rubbing raw. Her muscles clenched under her silken skin, and she growled and shook as though trying to expel the poison that battled her body. Then she gasped, a sound like a drowning woman's last breath, and her head fell to her chest, her white-blonde hair curtaining her face. From the hunch of her shoulders, I saw her diaphragm ease to steady, heavy breathing. She relaxed in her binds, her clenched fists opening to splayed fingers. She tilted her face toward me, and upon it was an expression so ravenous and lecherous that it almost took me aback. "What did you do to me?" She whispered.

"Ah, so she does speak." I giggled, "I was worried that I'd heard your last words. How do you feel?"

"You'll pay for this, Leveria." Mother hissed, her voice heavy, "You're not as clever as you think you are."

"I believe I asked you a question, Mother." I said, grabbing a nipple, and twisting, "How do you feel?"

Mother screamed, a sound filled with such primal joy that tears welled in her eyes. She shifted in a desperate dance, her body moving in a way I never would have thought possible. Mother was elegant, statuesque and stoic, but within her was the carnal nature every woman possessed, the baser instincts of a bitch in heat to proffer herself for use. Her belly stretched below her presented breasts, her back arched to enhance the bulge of her ass, and her thighs rubbed, desperately trying to quell the craving between them. I twisted her nipple until her eyes were rolling back, then I released.

Mother heaved in desperate breaths, whimpering and moaning in turn. Then, she began to laugh. "All you've done is created a vacuum on the throne." She turned her face upward, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glistening, "Do you think Clartias will stay a bachelor until your coronation? He'll have to remarry, and whichever wife he chooses will do everything in her power to make sure you never live to see the crown!"

I laughed with her, and pinched her other nipple. "Well whoever the lucky bachelorette is, she'd better hurry; she only has ten hours." I savored the realization dawning in her eyes, then I twisted with both hands. She shrieked this time, her head whipping back, her hair flailing in an arc behind her. I torqued until her breasts were spiraled with shadows of fat, and the more I tortured her, the more her body bent to me. She pressed her breasts until my knuckles were consumed in the succulence, wanting me to do worse, begging me with everything but her words. I released her, then trailed my fingers down her belly, watching in fascination as her skin prickled beneath my touch, the muscles relaxing in anticipation of the pleasure I might bring. I stroked her abdomen until her cries waned, and she became lax in her binds.

"I am queen of the Highlands in all but name." I said, "Father abdicated this morning. After you hang, they will put a crown on my head." I lowered my face to hers, staring into those beautiful dilated eyes, "There is no solace for you, Mother. I am going to get away with everything. All my dreams, all my carefully laid plans, they will all come to fruition tomorrow. My only regret is that you won't get to see it. But my first act as queen shouldn't be killing my own mother; the optics would be poor. No, I will be too busy plotting the death of my sister." I smiled, "When I get my hands on her, I won't be as gentle as I'm being with you. You, I desire to see humiliated and broken, but her..." I sighed, "I'm afraid I'll have to build a whole new wing of the dungeon just to service the Dark Queen. I plan to keep her alive for a very, very long time. I'll tell the nobles that such cruelty is only to dissuade Alkandi from ever coming back, but you and I know the truth of it, don't we, Mother?"

Mother's eyes were unfocused, but with a distant voice, she managed to say, "Yes, you will hurt Yavara greatly, Leveria." Her head flopped forward, and her voice rasped from her, "And she will kill you for it. It's been so long since Alkandi reigned that we've dismissed her legend as myth. We've forgotten why we fear the Dark Queen so." A string of drool hung from the corner of Mother's mouth, "Your arrogance and hatred will destroy us all in the end. Bentius will burn."