Sad stories of the death of kings

Junia reminded herself of her history as the soldiers walked her to the throne room. By the end of the day, she would have taken her place alongside the great martyrs of her kingdom, the noble dead who had been usurped by traitors or foreigners. When her line was gone, the realm would suffer for it. She could do nothing to prevent that, but she could hold her head high as the villains slew her, confident that the gods would one day have their revenge upon the false king.

She paid no heed to the other soldiers in what had once been the throne room. For all the destruction wrought by the invading warlord's army, someone had taken the time to put this room mostly to rights again. The fiend who led her enemies had pretensions of royalty, after all, and must have wanted to feel as if this palace was truly his own.

And it was then that Junia finally saw the warlord who had laid her country and her life to ruin.

It was certainly a lie that he was a god's child, but Junia could reluctantly see why the gullible might believe it. He stood a full head taller than most of the men around him, and his shining flaxen hair and nearly-black eyes would look quite striking in any portraits. Junia met his eye without flinching nevertheless. A fair face and a commanding voice did not turn a brutish warlord into a true king.

"They said you were beautiful," said Lucius the Golden. "They did not do you justice."

Junia stared at him silently.

"Come now," the barbarian continued. "Where is your courtesy? Won't you spare a smile for your bridegroom?"

She felt an absurd urge to laugh. It would have made more sense to cry or scream, but Junia could only think of how foolish she'd been not to see this coming. Wiping out an entire royal line will rid you of your rivals, but to leave one alive to grant you legitimacy solves even more problems.

Junia struggled for words to match her outrage.

"You have not earned my courtesy, whatever you call yourself," she managed to say. Her words scarcely seemed to reach Lucius's ears, for he simply turned and offered her a goblet of wine (plundered, no doubt, from her own castle's stock.)

"A toast to our marriage!" he said with mocking good cheer. Junia stared at him, unspeaking and unmoving. For a moment she thought her icy demeanor might have chilled him. Perhaps he was faltering. It was a foolish wish, but for just an instant she thought she might have won a minor battle.

Suddenly, Lucius's act of gentility ceased. He seized Junia by the back of the throat, and when she screamed in surprise, he held the goblet over her mouth and poured the contents in. She struggled and sputtered, but ended up swallowing some of the wine nevertheless. He cast aside the goblet with a clatter, and this time he seized the top of her dress. It came off with one quick rip from hardened war-worn hands, bearing her breasts both to Lucius and to all the men around him. Their faces swam together in Junia's vision, but she could hear their whistles and jeers, their calls of appreciation, and in one case even speculation about how much she might have gone for at an auction.

Junia uselessly raised her hands up to bat away her assailant's hands, but he easily caught her wrists in his grip. It wasn't only his greater strength and speed that defeated her, Junia realized- she was unsteady on her feet and having trouble keeping her balance. That wine...She'd had wine many times before and never been so affected.

"Bastard!" she shouted, even as he pulled her in close, wrapping one arm around her waist. "You've poisoned me!"

He shook his head, and as if to prove her wrong, he clutched her close and violently kissed her. The sheer brute force of such a thing overwhelmed Junia. She had never had a lover, and she had certainly never imagined herself with some villain forcing his mouth against hers, treating her like the maidservant of some disreputable rake. His lips were hard against hers and should have felt like nothing more than an animal attack, but her legs felt weaker than before, and something inside her stirred in the wickedest of ways.

"Not poison," Lucius said at last, seeming to read her thoughts. "Herbs from my travels in distant lands. A concoction which will heat the blood of the most reluctant maiden. Believe me, my love, it is for your benefit."

Junia attempted to place a well aimed kick at the warrior, but her balance once again fell off, and he had to catch her before she fell. Lucius laughed as he lowered her back towards the floor, and the rough grip his hands had on her now felt intolerably soft, barely touching her at all. Her body shouted for sensation, but Junia managed to shout it down.

"Do as you will!" She struggled to make her voice heard over the appreciative crowd. "I am still not yours!"

"You shall be soon," he said, and leaned himself down upon her, pressing her into the cold tiles of the floor. If her body pulsed through with the desire to be touched, his own natural arousal was easily felt against the corner of her thigh. (If he had expected her to be ignorant just because she was a virgin, he could expect disappointment.) Junia tried to make sense of how she felt and force her own hips to keep from arching themselves up into him, or her neck from leaning back to be kissed.

She focused on the sounds and sights around her- but that was a mistake, for it brought Lucius's men back into view. Some looked on casually from above, while a few others knelt on the ground to get a better view of her degradation. Practiced ravishers all, as most foreign armies were, it was not every day they got to witness the despoilment of a princess in her own palace.

"Spear her through!" came one voice.

"A pretty piece. Don't suppose you'll share?" came another.

"With tits like those, she could service a whole royal court!"

It was these remarks that caused Junia to do the single thing she had sworn she would not- beg.

"Please," she moaned. "Not in front of all of them, please..."

Lucius laughed at her pleas, and she could feel whatever was left of her heart breaking.

"They have made me a king. Let them witness the making of a queen!"

He pinned down her arms, then gently- so gently it was almost a shock- kissed the top of Junia's breasts. His kiss nearly burned against her cool skin, and although Junia continued to murmur useless protests and cries, his lips and tongue descended ever lower. When he kissed around her nipples, she thought she might die of shame or longing, and the worst of it was his tenderness. Slave or lover, he could have her either way, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Time was becoming hard for Junia to judge, but soon his hands were on her thighs as he raised the hem of her gown. His knuckles dragged along her sensitive skin as he bared even more of her body to himself and to his eager audience. She did her best to tighten her thighs together, but it was easy for him to pull them apart- and, she was ashamed to realize, his own strength was given aid by her body's current weakness. She could cry and writhe all she wanted, but every little sensation was increased 100-fold, and when Lucius reached up between her legs and pressed his calloused fingers into her, he found her dripping.

"My love," he said, as if he really was addressing a lover who had grown wet through nothing but his charm. "I see that you are ready for me!"

There was a blessed relief from his touch for a moment as Lucius sat back on his heels to tend to his own clothing. Junia gave an involuntary moan at the sight of his phallus- simply an obscene spectacle that could have been found between the legs of any stable boy, but it made her already-racing heart pound even harder. How much of that was from the wine and how much was simply the shock of her rough treatment? With a sinking feeling, Junia realized that she would have many nights ahead of her to discover.

"Beast!" she managed to snarl at him.

"A beast and his mate," said Lucius, and then that warm flesh of his entered hers. Junia could not tell which terrified her more- this brutal new attack on her body, or the cheers with which the common soldiers greeted it. He was slow, sinking in one inch at a time, giving her a moment to gasp and cry before deepening his intrusion. She was not grateful for this consideration. Having gone to all the trouble to drug her into compliance, he intended to fully enjoy the results.

Junia continued to make her ignored protests and strike weakly against her ravisher's chest, but when he started thrusting, he sent her off-balance all over again. Her head fell back against the floor, and she suffered his assault with her cheek pressed down against the cold tile. Lucius was not gleefully punishing, but he was relentless, and somehow the writhing of her hips sank in time with his thrusts. The terrible force that drove itself into her seemed to spread its rhythm throughout her entire body, and each jolt sent a new shiver down her spine and a new spark of fire in her stomach.

Just when she thought she could no longer stand it, Lucius made it even worse by running his hands along her waist. When she gasped at his gentle touch, it grew rougher, gripping her like a mere animal he was subduing. His kisses were still cruel upon her lips, and they were upon her neck as well, alarming her senses in ways Junia had never even dreamed of.

The exquisite torment inside her built each time he ground his hips against hers and hit the center of so many sensitive nerves. It was useless to fight back tears; they flowed freely as she could not keep her own body from assisting its destroyer. Lucius, it seemed, could read the expression on her face- his thrusting grew faster and rougher, building the friction between them, forcing Junia to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out. It did no good. The next time he thrust, the sensation within her and without her was simply too much, and Junia uttered a long, strangled cry as her entire body seized up into terrible, unwanted ecstasy.

Her climax did not bring an end to things, but it did speed up her attacker, moved as he was by the clenching and unclenching sensations within her. Finally he gasped and slowed, his muscular body pressing down upon Junia, his sweat dripping down onto her skin. He kissed her again, and this time she did not even bother to fight.

Even when he finally released her, she could not stand. It was all too much. Her body was weak from its assault, and the drugged wine he had given her made it even more so. Consciousness itself was too much of a task for her. Through her sorrow and shame and confusion, she could still hear mingled taunts and whistles from the enemy soldiers, but at least now they were blessedly indistinct.

"Fetch slaves to bring my wife to her chambers," she heard Lucius say. "May the drugs grant her dreams of me, and may our union here bless my future heir."

Perhaps there was cheering at that. She couldn't tell, nor did she really care.

He is wrong, Junia thought to herself amid the haze. I am the last heir of the rightful kings. The last thing she thought before beautiful unconsciousness claimed her was The child shall be my heir, not his. And they shall save the realm.