Vaid Empire: Conquest Ch. 54

What would her father think to see her now? Daughter of the mighty God Emperor, pleasuring herself shamelessly as if she were in heat? Her body quivered with lust, every flawless inch a product of his seed.

Feminine legs shaking as she slumped against the wall, Vixin moaned into her gag as she climaxed. Her head fell back once more as it faded, momentarily caring little if another found her.

Finally, she looked down, seeing the puddle her squirting juices had created upon the stone floor. She breathed, taking a moment to recollect herself before departing. A slave would surely be along to clean up her mess.

***

"You did well today."

When the sun found the horizon, Vixin found herself in her own apartments.

Rosila caressed her cheek lovingly. "You granted them no indication of your secret, providing a figure of dignity despite your humiliation. I must say, I'm genuinely impressed."

Vixin attempted to glare, her silver eyes carrying every ounce of lust she had built throughout the day.

"One must be certain you haven't cheated, of course. I apologize for the pain, though we've yet to learn how best to remove the Slinion silk." She cupped the princess's chin to steady her as her fingertips found the edge of the gag. Then, with a quick pull, she ripped it free.

Nearly yelping, though managing to keep her lips closed, Vixin rubbed the soft skin around her mouth as it lightly reddened.

"Open now. I'm sure you're eager to rid yourself of what the slaves left you. Or...perhaps not." A chuckle escaped Rosila as she guided Vixin to part her lips. Taking a glance inside, she confirmed that she hadn't yet swallowed. "Very good! You may yet have the makings of a Sage. Though come, you've earned a kiss."

Confused for only an instant, Vixin's eyes widened as her mentor pressed their lips together, taking her in deeply. Tongues finding each other, she allowed her mistress to accept the sperm from her mouth, eagerly taking it into her own.

Swallowing as she pulled back, a flush of arousal claimed Rosila as she stole Vixin's prize.

"When...will these games end?" The princess asked, freeing her voice after a full day of silence.

"End? Sweet girl, there will come a day when I am no longer around to torment you. On that day, you may be surprised at how you miss me." Rosila chuckled, caressing her face.

42nd of Senin, 12 AVE.

Kingdom of Harin, Great City of Visti.

The candles flickered lazily over the ornate walls of the royal bedchamber, dancing across the frail body of the once mighty king. Standing vigil over her father, Princess Witla watched his old chest rise and sink with shallow breaths.

Her long flowing skirt swept over her legs like an azure waterfall as she turned to pace, hearing the distant chirps of nocturnal creatures skittering about the rooftops of the city through the open windows. Her worries only ceased at the creaking sound of the door as it swung inwardly, allowing her brother to enter.

"How surprising it is to find you here at this hour." Prince Siril's narrow face curled into a sarcastic grin. He closed the door behind them, his blue cloak fluttering lightly as he crossed the room. "Any improvement?"

She turned as he kissed her cheek, her eyes lingering on his slim chest while he peered down at their father. Ancient battles played across his tunic in simplified yet intricate stitching. Ancient heroes of old dueled in illustrations befitting a tapestry across his chest, lixidions raced around his sleeves, and the legendary twin founders of Harin sat upon thrones squarely in the center of his cloak, Haricala and Targalin. "I've managed to get him to eat, though only once, and only a little."

The corners of Siril's lips turned downward with displeasure, appraising his namesake. The old man hadn't left his bed since his collapse upon hearing of Kinia's fall. "Old fool." The words came forcefully, though Witla knew her twin well enough to see hints of sorrow in his eyes. "None can see him like this. 'King Siril the fallen' they'd call him. Then what of me? Who could follow a name such as that?"

Gently, she glided her hand up his loose sleeve to hold his forearm, touching the white tattoos that matched her own. She pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes. "Calm yourself, Siril. Grant him the time he needs to recover."

He eased at her touch, allowing himself a breath before leaning back. Carefully he brushed a long strand from her face, her reddish-orange hair pouring over her slender shoulders like a blazing fire. She had inherited the entirety of their mother's beauty, whereas he possessed only a streak of orange to complement his wavy black hair. "I suppose, though in truth, I didn't come merely to see the old man. A visitor has found his way to our door."

"A visitor? Of what sort?"

"The worst kind. An ambassador." A grin once more found its way onto his face. "Minister Ovax is with the man now. I told him I'd see if father is in the mood to meet with him. Appearances, you know."

With her gaze dropping once more to the decaying ruler, she granted him a knowing nod. "We shouldn't keep him waiting long."

Together they departed, arm in arm as if bondmates, finding their way into the throne room. Only a scant few torches illuminated the chamber, the many blue banners fading into the lingering darkness of the night. They found their visitor locked in a quiet discussion with the diminutive minister, the stress of the previous years granting Ovax's face a gaunt and hollow appearance. Yet still a light remained behind his eyes, his thin lips ever pulled into a sly smile.

The ambassador turned upon hearing their quiet footsteps, interrupting himself with a sudden bow. "Prince Siril, it's an honor! I represent the interests of King Rolir of House Stire, and the throne of Spirexia. His majesty regrets that he cannot solidify our alliance in person, though a ruler should never leave a kingdom under siege." The man straightened proudly before shifting his attention. "Ah, and this must be the lovely Princess Witla." He took her hand when the pair had reached him, granting it a kiss. "Tales of your beauty do you an injustice, for they pale in comparison to the truth."

She nodded politely at his clumsy flattery, hearing the slight differences between his accent to her own. "We're pleased to welcome you to Visti, though I must ask, is this business so urgent it must be conducted in darkness?"

"Apologies, my lady, though I'm afraid it is. I came the moment our ship made port." The ambassador replied with a theatrical grimace. "You must know that Vigrin has fallen."

Stunned, Siril glared at the man. "Why were we not informed?"

"The invaders have allowed very little information to slip from the city during their siege. In fact, I was only able to confirm our report when I arrived in Prismi. They'll no doubt march there next if they have any sense." A regretful expression claimed his face. "King Rolir desired that I inform you in person and ensure you understand our people's need."

The prince placed his hand upon the jeweled hilt of his golden sword, ever at his side. "Vigrin should have held longer, though so be it. We've pledged to fight at your side and push back these southern barbarians as civilized men. I say we wait no longer." He slid the gilded blade from its sheath.

"You've never seen battle, Siril. In any case, we cannot proceed without father's approval." Witla reminded him. He glared at her with concealed embarrassment, holding his sword as if he no longer knew what to do with it.

Ovax clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward to interject himself. "The King must be informed of this. Another northern city falls to the savages, and we sit idly."

Witla bit her lip nervously. "Very well. He won't be pleased...though I'll tell him myself. Excuse me, gentlemen."

They watched her depart, Ovax's eyes lingering upon her as her hips swayed. In her absence Siril seemed to grow bolder, raising his sword once more. "My sister speaks the truth. I've yet to truly fight, though this sword will sip the blood of hundreds of invaders before this war is done. On that you have my word."

"An...inspiring aim, my lord." The ambassador brushed his own shoulder dismissively.

Ovax reclaimed the lead of the conversation, steering it towards a discussion of logistics. Supplies, men, armor, weapons, ships, much would be required to join Spirexia in their defense against The Empire, and already they were losing ground.

They were beginning to make progress, drafting orders to await the king's seal, and settling half-formed agreements, when a young serving girl entered the throne room. She waited for a break in the conversation before her small voice echoed quietly. "My prince...your sister has sent for you. She's at your father's side now. He's...I'm sorry, my lord. The King is dead."