The Prince and the Orc Queen Ch. 03

"I wanted to tell you about this earlier, really I did." The king said, almost pleadingly. "But you were too closely guarded by the queen, she could have easily gotten information out of you if she suspected anything. And I tried to tell you this morning to give you more time to prepare, but of course she interrupted that as well. Now we need move quickly, we have a rapidly closing window of opportunity for our attack."

"W-wait... you mean, it's happening now?" His mind stumbled over all the new information it was taking in.

"Yes, it happens tonight!" the king declared.

"The boy may be right, it may still be too soon..." a serpentine voice slithered from the dark.

The speaker stepped forward and huddled with them around the weak flame of the candle. It was the adviser Edmunt, his face cold and oily. He looked between the two royals as his hissing continued.

"I know it pains you to lay inactive my lord, but we must think in the long term about this. There are still too many Orcs among us. Once the larger cities are rebuilt they will no doubt send their units to maintain control of them, thinning out their numbers."

"I have waited nearly half a year, I shall wait no longer!" The king roared silently. "Your opinion on our plans has been noted for some time now, but it is too late to stop now. Things have already been put into motion, we have no choice but to continue."

A scowl crawled up the advisers slimy face but he offered no further arguments. The prince stood paralyzed, what was it that was already in motion? Dark worries scratched violently at the inside of his head, horrible thoughts of whatever hideous fate they had planned for his mistress. His heart constricted painfully into a knot of worry.

"Now listen carefully Peter." His father instructed him. "We have taken care of the guards surrounding the throne room and will position ourselves in waiting there. All we need you to do is lure the queen into that room and we'll take care of the rest."

Peter felt himself grow cold, as though panic ran through his veins rather than blood. What had they done to the guards? He suddenly sifted through his brain to try and remember where Mugg-Ran was stationed that day, but the memory eluded him. Delilah would be devastated if anything were to happen to her Orc lover. Returning jarringly to the moment the prince realized he was being stared at expectantly.

"The t-throne room? Why there?" He managed to sputter, trying to buy more time to think with.

His fathers face twisted into an evil smile, his wrinkles becoming an extension of the exaggerated expression. "It's just so fitting isn't it? The center of all power in the kingdom, from where she dictates her unnatural oppressive rule. Where she feels the most safe. The room is designed to be extremely defensible, giving us the advantage if any reinforcements come to stop us. I want the last thing she sees before her head is cleaved off to be me taking my rightful place upon the throne! So can you do it? Do you think she trusts you enough for you to convince her to follow you there?"

A dark shawl of terror and panic draped itself over Peter's face, wrapping around him and smothering him in its oppressive shadowy fabric. What could he say? How could his father force this decision upon him. A twin headed beast flailed miserably before him. The first an old and familiar head with which he held deep kinship, the second a newly emerged powerful face of strength and domination, and both fighting mercilessly between themselves. Armed with a sword as he was he had to slay one head to save the creature, they could no longer coexist. The decision itself was obvious, it was the act of swinging the sword that would be difficult.

Peter agreed to the plan and the men stealthily crept towards the throne room. They used a secret tunnel accessed from the pantry that run beneath the castle which emerged behind the throne. The passage had originally been intended for the king to use to escape an oncoming siege but would now serve to smuggle them to the heart of the castle undetected. As the stone wall rumbled to the side they saw that the room was empty, meaning that their accomplices had completed their duty.

An excited anxiousness was shared between the men, king included. Passed along their ranks like a flask of wine or a cheap woman. They nervously fingered the hilts of their weapons, their hands itching and muscles twitching in anticipation. The stakes of their mission was not lost on them, this was the last stand for all of humanity. With the graveness of the situation weighing far more heavily on their shoulders than any piece of armor they wore the quietly got themselves into position.

Along either side of the opulent throne room giant cloth banners of red and gold hung from the ceiling to the floor against the walls. The king and his soldiers slipped behind these banners, flattening themselves against the marble walls so as not to make any sort of impression through the free hanging fabric. The banners reached all the was to the floor so not even their feet were visible. The room once again became empty.

Their breaths came slowly, quietly, nervously. No one daring to move or make a sound. The vision of the soldiers was filled with the deep bright red of the banners, it was all they could see. Red like the blood of their enemies. Red like their own blood which could be spilled that night. Red like the rage that burned in all of them. Rage at being considered inferior, being so easily overpowered. They were out that night to disprove their impotence. They would slay the head of the beast that had raped and pillaged their land. They would make her suffer. At length they had discussed, in dark corners and hushed tones, what punishment they would subject upon their tormentor. Some argued for slicing off her cock and feeding it to her, while others wanted to drown her in piss. There were other suggested methods of torture, but all at least agreed it poetic that they turn the tables and see how she appreciated being raped for a change.

The king himself was uninterested in the method of execution so long as it got the job done. Tonight would be a victory worth celebrating to be sure, but it would be only the beginning of the revolution. The Orcs would no doubt retaliate against them for the loss of their leader and most likely put the city's people to the sword. He was confident that when the time came the people would be ready to cast off their shackles and fight back. His men had been secretly hoarding weapons over the months, surreptitiously stealing them from the Orcs to create hidden armory, an arsenal of steel and iron to distribute to the people and put the power back in the correct hands. It would finally be justice served. No better, it would be vengeance.

A long time passed where nothing happened. The men focused hard on not giving themselves away. There was no coughing or sneezing and no movement at all. Just as the stillness of it all became almost unbearable it was shattered by the loud rusty creaks of the main doors being pulled open. The king and his men held their breaths, listening quietly for the footsteps of their prey. Once they had walked into the center of the room, preferably after closing the doors, they would spring their trap.

The kings heart stopped, feeling that something was wrong. It took him a moment to identify precisely what though. That's it! There was more than one set of footsteps, was Peter still with her? No, there were even more steps than just two people. Had she brought guards with her? He had hoped Peter would have been able to convince her to come alone. One or two guards would make things more difficult for sure, but he was confident they had enough men to still overpower them. He tried and failed to discern the number of individuals in the room, by now they had stopped moving and made no other noise to identify themselves. Why weren't they saying anything?

A sharp intense pain blossomed in his abdomen the very next moment, causing him to wince and release a stifled cry that came out in a soft moan. He looked down, thinking this a very inopportune time to be having gas pains, and was shocked to see a flash of silver spanning between him and the fabric of the banner. Before he knew what was happening the sword was withdrawn and a crimson torrent spewed forth from his stomach. His ancient hands fumbled on top of the wound, as if he could simply button himself back up. He could feel himself deflating, growing less and less whole as his essence splattered to the ground and a bit of intestine dangled out. The hanging fabric did nothing to support him as he fell forward, landing harshly on the hard tiled floor. The floor was cold and each moment it grew colder.

He looked up and could see the Orcs stabbing swords and spears into the banners, pulling out his men and easily butchering them. There were so many of them, at least two Orcs for every one of his soldiers. They had come prepared, but how? They had been so careful, so cautious to hide their activities. He had thought for sure that they had kept their plans secret. His mind flailed helplessly trying to grasp onto any possible way they could have been discovered, anyone who could have possible betrayed them. With the last of his strength he turned his head towards the throne were he saw the conqueror queen perched smugly. That bitch, he cursed! If he could he would have spat at her, but when ever he tried to take in breath his lungs filled with blood.

Beside the throne cowered the prince, his face gone pale at the sight of the carnage around him. His poor son he thought as his eyes closed for the last time, they have taken the most from him. He was old and would soon have died anyway, but his son was so young. He was meant to rule the kingdom but now would live as a slave.

The king felt himself being dragged from the room. He heard the large double doors groan closed again and the scraping of his soldier's armor against the floor as they too were dragged beside him. He never saw the queen give his son an appreciative kiss, nor his son returning the affection. He never saw her undoing her pants and pulling her erect member free as she sat with her legs spread wide. He never got to see his son remove his own pants, spread his cheeks, and take his rightful place on the throne.

He never heard her whisper "Good boy."

*****

And there you have it! The longest thing I've written to date. Thanks again for reading it all and I hope you somehow got some enjoyment out of it. I kinda of ran out of steam towards the end but now that's it's finished I'm going to take a brief break then get right back to writing some more smut for you all! Maybe something a bit softer next time.