Tales of Dylak-Leem - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - Diplomatic Entanglements, Part 2

Olivia drifted slowly back to wakefulness, opening her eyes to pale morning sunlight streaming in through a high window. She made a muted noise and turned her head on the pillow, getting her bearings. That had been an... interesting dream. And much more vivid than she was accustomed to. The smell of her own body danced in her nose, the same odor she knew from wild, passionate nights with Sophia, minus her husband's own musk of sex and exertion.

She started to roll over in bed, only to realize she couldn't; something was tangled up in her legs. Blinking, she sat up.

Still asleep, Petra lay between her thighs, limbs twined with her legs. The girl's head lay pillowed on Olivia's curly black pubic bush, and her lips were nearly on the Queen's button. A small trinkle of drool ran from one corner of her mouth to mix with a visible moistness around the Queen's labia.

Olivia stared, stifling a surprised noise. Had she...? Her mind quickly reviewed her dream, noted Petra's current position, and concluded that it was very likely. She started to say something sharp and angry, then stopped herself. What if Petra had just cuddled up to her in the halfling's sleep? It wasn't as if Olivia hadn't been having torrid, horny dreams of late. Maybe this was all innocent.

Stirring, Petra made sleepy noises. Olivia composed herself with effort, and then bent forwards. "Petra," she said softly but firmly, "can you please get up?"

With a yawn and a catlike stretch, the girl untangled herself from Olivia's limbs and lifted her head from the Queen's crotch. "Good morning, Miss Olivia," she said happily. "Is it time for breakfast?"

"Petra, did you..." Lick my pussy? Notice me climax? Hear me moan my own daughter's name? None of these were questions she wanted to ask if nothing HAD happened. She sighed. "Yes, Petra," she finished lamely. "It's time for breakfast."

Eagerly, Petra hopped off the bed and took her hand. "Let's go!"

The Queen sighed. "Dear, you're not wearing any clothes." She tugged her hiked-up nightgown down to cover her black-furred cleft. "And I might as well not be." The thin fabric left very little of her body to the imagination.

"Oh. Let's get dressed then." Turning around, the halfling slave began to gather her clothing up off the floor. Shaking her head a little, Olivia walked to her closet, doffed her nightgown, and took a gown from the rack that she felt would be suitable for the negotiations today.

Her eyes wandered over to the mirror in the corner, and she saw Petra, paused in the act of dressing, watching her with frank admiration. Olivia quivered slightly, for the first time suddenly being aware of the girl as a woman, with a woman's body and desires, rather than as a sort of adorable humanoid puppy. A long, slow blush crossed her face, and she hurriedly dressed.

"Let's go, let's go!" urged Petra as she finished. "They might run out!"

"They won't run out," Olivia told her patiently. "Trust me."

"I trust you." Petra beamed at her, then sighed happily. "You really are beautiful, Miss Olivia."

"Ahh... thank you, Petra." Flattering, yet very awkward.

"They're so big!" Petra looked suddenly coy and giggly. "I wanted to squeeze them."

Oh. Oh my. Olivia glanced down at her bosom; the gown she wore, like most of hers, showed her ample cleavage off to full advantage. "Well... ah..."

The halfling took a step forward, her eager voice becoming conspiratorial. "I really wanted to play with the little pink tips, and maybe touch them to mine."

Oh gods, she HAD sex with Olivia. "Petra..."

"But then I thought playing with your toes would probably be very rude, so I didn't," Petra finished regretfully.

"My toes?" Olivia asked faintly.

"They're so much bigger than mine!" Hopping on one leg, the slave raised one tiny foot for inspection. "See?"

Whew. "Let's just go get breakfast," Olivia said firmly, and ushered her off.

As it happened, Petra seemed to forget her the instant she saw the spread in the great hall. Grabbing a plate that seemed far too large for her, the halfling dashed off to fill it. Somewhat relieved, Olivia got herself some bread and marmalade and a cup of the rich dark coffee that the castle imported up from the plantations around Dylak-Leem. It wasn't as good as the best Abois blends, but it didn't cost a fortune either.

Walking to her seat at the high table, she saw Sir Cargyl enter and pass her by. The knight was walking... strangely... and seemed to be in some pain. He looked as though he had gotten little sleep.

"How does the morning find you, Sir Knight?" she asked pleasantly as he went by.

"Exhausted," he croaked. "I slept poorly."

"Did you stay up with Captain Egrid?" she asked, amused. She bet that part of him had stayed up, anyway.

The young knight looked chagrined that she knew. "Ahhh..."

"A formidable woman, then?" she asked, not entirely unkindly.

"Most formidable," he replied. "A humbling experience. Excuse me, my Queen." He limped on, clearly embarrassed.

Egrid entered the hall some minutes later, looking well-rested and pleased with herself. She collected a large plate of food and went over to sit by Tesaiel, who was enjoying a meal of pastry and fruit. Olivia couldn't hear what they were discussing, but she noted a look of resigned exasperation on the elf's fine features several times.

"Poor Sir Cargyl may not have been as much man as he thought he was," Sophia murmured to her from her seat.

"It does look that way," the Queen whispered back in amusement. "Although the orc seems pleased enough."

"I'm not surprised," Sophia replied dryly. "I'm told he wasn't the only one she entertained last night. Lady Irvet is taking breakfast in bed and seems to have strained her back something terrible."

"You're joking!" Olivia was honestly shocked. Lady Irvet was delicate, lovely, and somewhat shy, mostly known for her wealth and her talent for painting. Olivia had always rather liked her.

"I'm not." Sophia seemed deeply amused. "Perhaps I should ask the captain for pointers." She shook her head. "After breakfast, we're going to proceed to the prepared room and get started. Mostly it's going to be me, the Colonel, Lady Tesaiel, and Avila. I need you to make sure everything else is running smoothly... that the servants don't fuck up the refreshments, day to day business is done, and especially that wild rumors don't start over the content of the negotiations. I don't want the nobles to panic over nothing and try to force my hand."

"I'll need to have some idea what's actually going on to do that effectively," Olivia replied.

"Yes, yes, of course.  Just stop in every so often and listen a bit. You should be able to quickly figure out where we are just by listening to us."

"Very well." Olivia sipped her coffee. "Do you really think you can cut a deal with Avila?"

"Yes, actually. It's Tesaiel I'm worried about."

The Queen's eyes shot up. "Really? She seems quite eager to reach a deal, to me. Certainly far more diplomatic."

"She's eager to reach a GOOD deal, and diplomacy is just war by other means." Sophia stabbed her bacon with a silver fork. "Much of what she wants she's not going to get. I'm going to need to talk her into giving me what I want and only getting part of her aims in return. Avila will accept that. Tesaiel may not."

"I don't understand. Tesaiel seems so much more reasonable. Why do you think-"

The King looked at her with cynical amusement. "Because Avila is a solder, and a good one too. She understands that there are no pretty victories and that sometimes a battle ends in stalemate, which is preferable to defeat. She's willing to let me use her and her masters like a five silver whore if that means it advances the cause of her crusade even a little. Avila has no shame or pride, Mother. She's her god's willing bitch. Tesaiel, though, has a great deal of pride. She's determined to get her master exactly what he wants at the lowest possible price, and she'll take it as a mark of personal failure when she realizes she can't. The question becomes whether she has enough pragmatism to swallow that pride and take what she can get, and how palatable I can make that seem."

Olivia nodded, impressed and a little shaken. She knew Sophie was extremely good at reading people with only a little exposure to them, but times like this reminded her exactly how good, and how deft her daughter could be at using that insight to manipulate them. It was a talent which had served the King extremely well during her reign, and Olivia admired it... but it also made her uneasily wonder to what degree Sophia saw through her, understood her thoughts and feelings, and used those to manage her. She had surrendered her naked body for her 'husband' to gaze upon, touch, use, possess. The idea of being mentally naked before her as well still made her hesitate. "I understand. I hope you can talk her around."

"So do I. She's no-one to trifle with. You could learn a lot from her." Sophia took a drink of her coffee. "Then again, it's better if you don't."

Olivia flinched. They both knew that the Queen was a follower and easily tamed. "Yes, your majesty," she replied quietly.

"Good girl." Sophia stood. "Go see to the servants. I'm going to escort our guests to the conference room."

The Queen nodded obediently, and was rewarded with a pat on the head. She finished her breakfast as the King left, then got up and headed for the butlers' pantry.

It took her several minutes to get things in order and correct a few blatant mistakes... who on earth had thought that it would be a good idea to bring their guests pickled sardines and rather smelly cheese as snacks? Once that was squared away, she hurried down to the conference room to make sure there was nothing that needed fixing immediately.

Egrid stood watchfully at the door, and nodded amiably to her as she went in. Inside, the four primary negotiators sat around the table, talking. The Favorite looked bored, Sophia looked earnest, Avila wore a sneer, and Tesaiel seemed politely displeased.

"...and therefore, that makes it completely impossible," Sophia was saying. "You cannot invade from Darharrow, not as things are. I'm not going to open my people to retaliation with a understrength, half-assed attack on the drocken."

"What makes you think it would be understrength?" Tesaiel replied quickly and sharply. "I assure you, the crusade will have ample manpower at our disposal by the time we are ready to move."

"I think so because I'm not stupid and I can read a map," Sophia replied evenly. "Your alliance was formed to keep the goatmen from overrunning your trading partners just south of Castahar, on the other side of the pass through the alps, the Mosspike Gate. If you hold the pass, you stop them cold and can launch attacks from there into Castahar to retake it. If you lose it, they'll flood through and you'll be dealing with a massive front of semi-nomadic raiders ruining your economy. You HAVE to hold there, which means that's where the bulk of your forces will be deployed, and where your main offensive has to be... not to mention the fact that you can easily supply an army there, while provisioning forces stationed here from the coastal cities will be difficult at best; we're almost certainly going to have to act as your quartermaster. Do you seriously expect my relatively small kingdom to be able to adequately supply an army big enough to retake Castahar, an army that's going to be in the field and thus burning supplies like mad?"

"Yes, our primary effort will be in the south," Tesaiel allowed. "That doesn't mean we can't launch a diversionary attack from your kingdom, to draw off forces so that our main thrust-"

"And what happens if we draw off more forces than you expect?" Colonel Elsabet interjected sharply. "Darharrow is a Kingdom, not a diversion!"

"This is war. You've got to take risks," Tesaiel replied, frowning at the woman. "You've already been attacked. It will only get worse unless the situation is dealt with, and the only way to deal with it is to eliminate the drocken."

"Will it get worse?" Sophia asked musingly. "By the spring, they're going to have your crusade at their throat, marching through the Mosspike Gate. Maybe attacks from the east as well, if you've done as I've assume you've done and made diplomatic advances to the Convent States and Lothamanaith. Possibly even from the Gloamwood as well, if you're willing to deal with goblins." Olivia noticed Lady Tesaiel start in uneasy surprise at that. "If your host is as potent as you say," Sophia went on, "they're going to need every warrior they can spare dealing with it, which means raids on my kingdom are likely to slow or cease."

"Or maybe they'll raid you for provisions to feed their hideous host," Tesaiel replied hotly. "Or for fun, since they won't be able to rape and pillage south. Maybe-"

Avila growled and made a sweeping motion with her hand. "Enough, Tesaiel. Stop trying to bullshit her. She's right and she's smart enough to know it." The templar looked sourly at Sophia. "All right, girl. What do you have to offer me aside from a skinny ass and a boy's chest?"

Elsabet and Tesaiel both half-rose, words of outrage on their lips. Sophia irritably waved them down, and then smirked at Avila. "Just because I won't let you launch an invasion doesn't mean we can't make the goatmen worry that you will. Send me a significant army and I'll rebuild the old fortress overlooking Ergalreik, bigger and stronger than the first one. You can station a strong force there, and it'll be a dagger at their back, waiting. You can send raids and scouting runs into Ergalreik, too... nothing big, just reminders that you're there. That gives them two choices; abandon Ergalreik, or keep a good-sized force there to repel any invasion you make. Which is a good-sized force that won't be stopping you from forcing the Mosspike Gate."

Avila nodded thoughtfully. "It's a start."

Tesaiel turned to her incredulously. "We agreed that an offensive through Ergalreik was a key-"

"If you want to waste your time pushing that, go right ahead," Avila told her. "You're the diplomat."

Fuming, Tesaiel looked irritably away. Her gaze fell on the replacement tapestry, the one with the goblins, and a funny expression passed over her face.

Olivia stepped forwards. "Is there anything I can cause to have fetched for anyone?" she asked politely.

"A glass of wine," Tesaiel replied, voice a little strained.

"I'll see to it right away." Smiling, the Queen turned and left. So far, things seemed to be going much as Sophie had predicted.

The day passed slowly, with Olivia having a lunch prepared and then sent in, occasionally going out to the great hall to mingle with the nobles gathered there. She detected a certain amount of anxiety, and more than once heard distrustful words concerning the Favorite.

She passed Petra in a hallway at one point, looking entirely unwell. Worried, she stopped and knelt down beside the slave. "Are you all right, dear? You haven't been taken advantage of again, have you?"

"Oh, Miss Olivia," Petra whined unhappily. "I ate twenty tarts because they were so good, and now-" A strange noise came from her stomach.

"Now, Petra, hasn't your Mistress warned you about eating so much?" Olivia said reprovingly.

"But they were just sitting there, so plump and ripe and tender," Petra said wistfully, then groaned. "I need to lie down."

Sighing, Olivia took her tiny hand and escorted her to the chambermaids' dormitory, where a few of the off-duty night shift girls looked up in surprise. "She's eaten a bit too much," the Queen told them. "Can you put her in someone's bunk and watch her until she's feeling better?"

"Yes, of course, your highness," one of them replied, a bit of amusement in her eyes. "Isn't she the cutest thing though?"

Olivia gave a rueful chuckle. "We can't keep her," she said. "She'd eat us out of house and home."

Petra just groaned again.

Returning to the great hall, she was approached by several nobles led by the earl of Carhael. "Queen Olivia," he said, kissing her hand politely. "We've heard something rather... disturbing... and we were wondering if you could confirm or deny it."

"I will do my best to inform you of the truth of your fears, my lord," she replied politely. "What is it that you have heard?"

"Word is passing through the hall that as a condition of the treaty, all castles and fortified houses in the eastern half of the kingdom are to be confiscated from their owners, and either handed over to the crusade, or given to our army under the stewardship of Colonel Elsabet," Earl Carhael said with clear distaste.

Olivia frowned. Carhael's seat was a large, strong keep overlooking a major crossroads in the east of the kingdom; it was a major source of his power and one of the reasons even the King had to treat him with respect. It was no wonder that this rumor had him, and likely half the nobles present, on edge. "I have not heard any such discussions," she told him honestly. "But I will go right now and check to see if any such have taken place."

The earl bowed. "I would be most grateful if you would, your highness."

Smiling politely at them, the Queen turned and made her way back to the conference room. Egrid was gone from the door, replaced by another of the elf's armsmen. On entering, though, Olivia found the half-orc standing at the table with the others, examining a map.

"...making it our strongest point along the border," Colonel Elsabet was saying. "The three lesser redoubts will be intended more as obstacles to delay invasion rather than prevent it."

"So smaller forces there," Avila said, frowning. "And a single main force at the fortress. That suits my needs to keeping up a credible invasion threat. Not so good for your goal of preventing invasion of your kingdom. I'm curious why you're proposing this deployment."

"Supply," Sophia answered. "The maps don't show it, but the roads to those redoubts range from poor to nonexistent. That border country by Ergalreik hasn't been heavily inhabited by humans since the plague years decimated it. There are plenty of orcs and worse, though, wandering in small bands. They won't bother a military outpost, but they'd like nothing better than a supply caravan unless it's heavily guarded. Between the cost to rebuild the fortress, erect the redoubts, and supply your men, I simply can't afford to give every wagon of shoes and sausages a military escort."

Egrid frowned. "Even if those redoubts are lightly garrisoned, they're still gonna have to eat, your majesty," she said.

"Game is plentiful in the area. They can hunt," said Colonel Elsabet. "And we'll supply them with rations. I'm not saying they won't get any supplies ever, I'm just saying that it's not going to be every day or even every week, as we'd need to do with a larger force."

"That's still not going to be a pleasant duty assignment," Egrid mused. "Deserters might be a problem."

Sophia shrugged. "That's a problem you'll have to solve yourselves."

"Pardon me," Olivia said, interjecting herself. "Has the subject of confiscating estates or castles come up?"

"Hmm? No, not really," Sophia replied. "The ruins of Castle Aurochs are still owned by the crown, and I don't think any of the sites for the redoubts are owned by anyone. Colonel?" Elsabet shook her head in the negative, and the King nodded. "Thought so. Depending on how things develop I MAY confiscate for fortresses some unused land near the border that's owned by one noble or another, but if I do, the crown will pay fair value for it. Certainly not any existing structures." Sophia frowned. "Why do you ask, Mother?"

"There's a rumor that pretty much everything with a battlement east of the capital will be handed over to the crusade," Olivia replied. "I told them I would go get some clarification."

"Nobles! Yes, I'm going to provoke the entire east into rising in rebellion, that's exactly in line with the sort of monarch I've been," Sophia said with exasperated sarcasm. "Please tell them what I told you, Queen Olivia. Maybe offer to hold their hand if they're still afraid."

Avila laughed. "Typical. I see your subjects aren't welcoming us with open arms."

"They're as happy to see you as one can expect people to be at welcoming an occupying army," Sophia replied. "Speaking of which, I'd like to turn to the subject of your troops, their behavior, and the local population."

"I can assure you our soldiers will be correct and well-behaved in their dealings with your-" Tesaiel broke off as Egrid whispered urgently in her ear. She frowned, and glanced up at the swordswoman, who shrugged and nodded. Sighing, she turned back to the King. "It's probably best to keep them as separate as possible."

"I disagree. They're going to need to go into town, or morale is going to plummet," Avila replied. "They're going to need women, too."

"Can you import some whores from the coast?" Sophia asked. "I'd rather not have your men 'mistaking' a baker or a weaver for a lady of negotiable virtue on a regular basis."

"Possibly," Tesaiel said with distaste. "Avila, any objections?"

"None." Avila frowned. "When the inevitable rapes happen, who has jurisdiction?"

Nodding to them, Olivia let herself out and returned to the great hall. 

Conversation stopped as she entered, and she was instantly at the center of a sea of nervous faces. Smiling at them, she took a deep breath. "I have just been to see the King and get an update on the progress of negotiations," she said. "I can categorically deny that the confiscation of any homes or castles has come up, or is going to come up. The King told me quite clearly that the crown will be relying on new fortifications, or rebuilding old ones that currently belong to the crown. She cautioned me that possibly, in the future, the crown may confiscate some border land that currently lies fallow in order to build defensive works... but that no existing buildings will be seized. Does this lay your fears to rest, my lords and ladies?"

"How MUCH fallow land will be confiscated?" asked Lady Harbrace suspiciously.

Olivia gave her a pleasant but clearly humoring smile. "At the moment, none at all, my lady. As I said, it is merely a step that may have to be taken in the future, should the presently proposed fortifications prove inadequate. Since it is merely a nebulous possibility, I cannot give you any numbers. The King did assure me, however, that any land taken for defenses would be paid for by the crown. Given that the land currently lies barren and unproductive, and that this has been the case for generations, I should think that should it happen it might prove most welcome to the current owners."

"Indeed," the Earl of Carhael said, looking deeply relieved. "This is welcome news, Queen Olivia. Thank you for bringing it to us."

"I'm glad it sets your mind at ease, my lord," she replied. "If you'll excuse me..." Nodding politely, she headed off to the butlers' pantry to make sure that the evening meal was running on schedule.

The late afternoon and early evening passed in a whirl of frantic activity, and Olivia wound up eating a solitary, sparse meal in a small drawing room in between tasks. Finally though everything was done, and she made her way to the conference room to see if they would work late, or break for the night.

There were no guards at the door, and when she entered she found it empty except for a sour-looking Colonel Elsabet. The Favorite was sitting in a chair combing over papers, and looked up when she entered. "What?" A heartbeat's pause. "Your highness."

"I am looking for the King and her guests," Olivia said with forced politeness. "Do you know where they are, Colonel?"

"Yes." The Colonel seemed to consider something a second, then glanced back at her papers. "Lady Tesaiel returned to her quarters, I believe. The templar and the orcish armsman were going to spar, and then the King suggested they avail themselves of the mineral spring. I expect the sparring is over now, so you should seek them there."

"I see." The castle had a chamber carved into the rock below it that housed a warm spring of water; some king long dead had carved and tiled it to make a place he and his companions could soak weary muscles after a strenuous day of hunting or fencing. "You remain at work?"

"Yes." The Favorite seemed none too pleased by that. "Is there anything else?"

"No. I'll leave you to your labor." Olivia turned to go, stifling a faint smile. No doubt Sophia had decided that Elsabet would only get in the way. That wasn't entirely surprising, given the woman's ability to make enemies and slight people. Olivia suspected that was yet another reason Sophia allowed her as much power as she did.

There were two guards posted at the top of the spiral staircase down to the spring; they saluted as the Queen approached and stepped aside. Nodding to them, she took a lantern from the niche at the top of the steps and began to descend.

It was dark on the stairs, and increasingly damp the lower she went. There were landings with sealed doors that she passed a few times; she wasn't quite sure what, if anything, lay behind them. Given the amount of rust on the locks, it was possible that no-one knew. She moved slowly, taking care not to trip on the stone steps as she went deeper and deeper into the living rock of the castle's hill.

Finally she saw a glow of light below, and heard the low murmur of distant voices. She quickened her steps a bit, hoping nervously that Sophia was there and that she wasn't about to be alone with Avila. Setting the lantern down in a niche at the base of the steps, she walked out of the stairwell and into the chamber.

The room was a rough-hewn rock cavern. The floor, however, had been smoothed and polished until it was suitable for walking upon in bare feet. Two lit lanterns stood in stands at each end, and the center of the room was dominated by the warm springs themselves, a shallow basin tiled and cut into a square, with metal-grilled vents leading deep into the rock. Two sunken benches were cut into the sides of the pool, facing one another; Avila and Sophia sat on one, and Egrid upon the other, enjoying the warm water. Their clothing lay in heaps along the edges of the pool.

The King raised a hand in greeting. "Queen Olivia. Tracked us down, I see."

"Ah, yes, your majesty." She hadn't expected to see Egrid here; Olivia had assumed that Sophia was going to use the opportunity to engage in some one-on-one negotiations with Avila, off the record. "I wanted to ask about the negotiations and if they would be continuing tonight."

"No, we're done for the day. Praise the gods." Sophia gave a short bark of laughter. "Why don't you strip off and join us?"

Olivia took a step back. "Oh, I have a dozen things I need to get done-"

"Someone else can do them. I insist."

That pretty much settled that. Swallowing, Olivia hesitantly unbuttoned the back of her gown and eased it off. Folding it neatly, she set it on the floor, acutely conscious of three pairs of eyes focused on her. A slight bit of color came to her cheeks.

"No underwear?" Avila asked, a hint of mockery in her voice. "Your daughter wears frilly white things under her clothes."

"My daughter is still single, and a young woman," Olivia replied.

"But you're single too, now. And hardly a crone," Avila returned. "I'd wager you might be a better fuck than your daughter."

Olivia flushed, outrage and embarrassment mixing with a perverse sense of pride at the lewd compliment. "That-"

"Now you're hurting my feelings, Avila," Sophia cut in, laughing. "Come on in, Queen Olivia. Have a seat next to Captain Egrid."

Next to the orc? Olivia opened her mouth to protest, then realized how impossible it was to refuse Sophia in front of two guests, one of whom she would be insulting. Closing it again, she nervously stepped into the warm, steaming water and moved to sit. Egrid's large frame was seated in the middle of the bench, and she found herself forced to sit close against her, nearly hip to hip.

"Hello again, your highness," Egrid said cheerfully. "You're looking well this evening."

"Ah... thank you." Ill at ease, Olivia glanced down at the water. She could feel goosebumps forming on her shoulders and upper arms as the warmth of the springs contrasted with the cool cavern air on her naked torso. Egrid's presence next to her was almost overwhelming; she could smell the half-orc, a mixture of metal polish, musky sweat, and something she couldn't identify. "You and Templar Avila sparred, I was told?"

"That's right. Good workout." Egrid stretched, the edge of one bicep brushing faintly against the side of Olivia's chest for a fraction of a second. "Nice to have a hot soak afterwards." Her eyes glinted. "Especially with such good company."

"Ah, mmm," Olivia said timidly. "Who won, if I may ask?"

"Pardon?"

"The sparring. You and Avila fought, yes? Who won?"

Egrid stared at her for a second, then began to chuckle. Avila and Sophia joined in, all clearly amused by the question.

Olivia flushed, stung. "I'm afraid I must have said something foolish," she said a bit curtly.

"A little, yes," Sophia said merrily. "Mostly just something impolitic. But since Tesaiel and the Colonel aren't here, I think that's fine." She moved an inch closer to the redhaired templar. "Can I be horribly blunt and undiplomatic, Avila? You won't think less of me?"

"How could I think any less of you than I do, boy-tits." Avila reached out and draped a muscular arm over Sophia's shoulders in a familiar fashion. "Go right ahead."

The King smirked, then looked back to her mother. "Avila and Egrid don't LIKE each other, Queen Olivia. They don't entirely trust each other either. But they do respect each other's combat abilities. And they both have it in the back of their mind that at some point in the future, when their masters' interests don't dovetail like they do now, they might end up fighting each other to the death. So when they sparred, both of them were careful not to fight to their full ability, or use their best and strongest moves. And at the same time, both of them were trying to learn as much about the other's fighting style as possible given that they were holding back. Under those circumstances, nobody could 'win'. 'Winning' would be losing, since it would mean they had given away more than the other." She glanced at Avila. "Did I get that right?"

"Yeah, basically," Avila replied, patting her on the shoulder. "Nobody said you were stupid, Goldilocks. The orc didn't give me much. I won't know how good she really is til I kill her."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing," Egrid replied amiably.

"For shame, Queen Olivia, you've injected a certain murderous tension into things," Sophia said, laughing. "Although I suppose I helped. You apologize to the captain, and I will apologize to the templar."

Obediently, Olivia turned to face Egrid. "I apologize for my rudeness, captain."

"That's all right, Queen Olivia, and I'm not a captain," Egrid replied with a toothy grin. "Just call me Egrid, familiar-like." Her eyes dipped down to the Queen's bare bosom, the bottoms of the full globes just touching the water. "Since we're being so familiar."

"And I apologize for being such a bad host, Avila." Sophia leaned into Avila's draped arm, and then to Olivia's shock gave the redhead a light peck on the cheek. "Do forgive me."

"Being awfully forward for such a little boy, aren't we?" Avila taunted, pulling her a little closer with her enfolding arm. "Didn't your royal mother teach you not to play with women until you went through puberty?"

"You're so cruel," Sophia murmured. "I'm a grown woman too, you know."

"I have my doubts." Avila gave a low chuckle. "Why don't you sit on my knee and prove it?"

"So cruel," Sophia repeated. Standing, she turned in the water and sat back down, straddling Avila's muscular left leg. One hand went to the rim of the pool to steady herself, the other went to the top of the templar's shoulders.

Olivia quivered in distress. What was going on here? This was entirely TOO affectionate. Sophia was FLIRTING with the woman, and Avila was... she wasn't sure what the templar was doing. Egrid glanced at her, eyebrows raising, and she could only give a weak smile in return.

"Well, let's see." Avila reached up and cupped Sophia's tiny breasts, squeezing. "These are a joke. I bet I could fit one in my mouth."

"I bet you can't," Sophia returned.

"Oh yeah?" The redhead leaned forward, bent, tilted Sophia back, and took one tiny breast into her mouth. Sophia made a low, throaty noise, and squeezed Avila's shoulder. The templar's jaws worked, and the grip grew tighter.

"Soph- Your Majesty!" Olivia burst out, unable to contain herself any longer. "What are-"

"Be still, Queen Olivia," Sophia interrupted her, voice distant and annoyed. "You're being rude to your guests. And to me. Why don't you sit on Captain Egrid's lap? That ought to distract you."

"But-"

"Now." Sophia voice was firm and final.

Turning, Olivia looked at her seatmate with nervous fear. "I... ah..." she said to the swordswoman awkwardly.

"No worries," Egrid replied amiably. "Plenty of room here." She patted her lap.

Gingerly, the Queen started to stand, then hesitated, the sense of orcishness from Egrid sweeping over her again. She wasn't sure she could do this. Quivering, she glanced at Egrid helplessly.

With a chuckle, Egrid leaned over and gently took her by the hips, making her squeak slightly. Turning her, the half-orc steered her a few steps over and then firmly pulled the Queen down onto her broad green-brown lap, facing away. "There we go."

Olivia squirmed, almost shaking as she perched there. She could feel the twin globes of Egrid's large breasts pressing against her bare back, the two thick nipples hard against her skin. The coarse black tuft of Egrid's pubic hair brushed and rubbed against her bottom, some of it finding its way between the crack of her ass. The memories of having her dress torn open returned full force, and she swallowed, her heart beating faster.

Avila took her mouth from Sophia's breast. "It figures that the orc gets the main course, and I'm left with the cat's leavings."

"You're being extremely undiplomatic, Avila," Sophia said lazily. "Lady Tesaiel would be displeased."

"For calling you a yellow-haired skank without womanly charms?" Avila's hands snaked down to grab each of the King's buttocks. She fondled them appraisingly, like a buyer testing fruit. "No wonder you're single. Nobody'd want an ugly wallflower like you."

"Why don't you give me some pointers, then?" Sophia said, gazing into her eyes.

"Make you a woman?" Avila replied, grinning. "That'll be a challenge."

"I think you like challenges," the King murmured.

Pulling her forward, Avila kissed her savagely. The two sank lower into the water, leaning back as Avila's hands played with Sophia's pert, wiggling ass and the golden-haired monarch returned the kiss.

Olivia watched with a mixture of jealousy, shock, and arousal, all mixing and melding with the tension from her current position. She almost jumped when Egrid put a hand on her shoulder. "Relax," the half-orc murmured. "I can't exactly rip your dress off, can I?"

Despite herself, the Queen gave an uneasy half-giggle. "That's part of the problem," she softly replied, reminded once again of her own nakedness.

"Oh? You've decided you're into dress-ripping after all?" Egrid moved her hand up to touch her cheek. "Admit it. You've thought about it a few times."

She had. Olivia flushed. "I'm just... orcs scare me."

"And excite you?" Egrid murmured. "Just a little?"

"Y-Yes. No. I-" Olivia sucked in her breath as Sophia threw her head back, allowing Avila to kiss her neck and breastbone. "Oh... they're..."

"They're kissing." Egrid's voice held banked fires in it. "Pretty eagerly." The half-orc reached up to take Olivia's chin in her hand, and then leaned in. "Like this."

Before the Queen knew what was happening, Egrid's fanged mouth was pressing against hers. Her mind went blank as she made a shocked noise, and then the sheer physicality of the moment and her frightened, quivering arousal overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the half-orc, her mouth slowly working against the swordswoman's.

They stayed like that for several heartbeats, and then the kiss broke. Feeling dizzy, Olivia took in a deep breath, confused and trembling. Then a splash made her head turn. Avila was moving her leg up and down, bouncing Sophia on it as the Templar's hands explored her slim body. The young monarch groaned a little.

The Queen licked her lips anxiously, watching the two. Then she gave a squeal as Egrid's big hands closed around her breasts. Panic shot through her. "Egrid, I... I... this isn't..." Green fingers tweaked her erect nipples, and she gasped. "Oh gods."

"I did warn you a beautiful woman should be wary around orcs," Egrid breathed. "And you're a very beautiful woman."

At least somebody thought so. Olivia turned her head to look back at the swordswoman. "I... I mean..." The half-orc leaned in again, and once more the Queen found their lips mashing against each other, faces pressed together. The big hands kneaded her generous mounds, toying with them, and memories of the orc pawing at her breasts flooded back. Panic again surged, and she started to struggle. Egrid held her firmly in place, and slowly the raw fear melted back into arousal.

Egrid broke the kiss, face a little flushed. "So I remind you of a raider, huh?"

"Y-Yes." Olivia took a deep breath, then bit her lip as the scarred fingers again played with the tip of one stiff aureola. "They w-wanted to have their way with me."

Egrid grinned. "And you think I want to have my way with you?"

"Y-Yes, I d-do."

"That sounds suspiciously like an invitation," Egrid said, nibbling at one ear.

"Oh gods." Olivia closed her eyes, heart pounding with fear and excitement. Then she opened them again. Avila was standing up, lifting Sophia out of the water. The templar set the monarch down on the edge of the pool, then reached for her clothing. For a second Olivia thought she was going to leave the water and dress. Instead, though, she just fished out a beltlike object with a long attachment.

"It's cold out here," Sophia complained, shivering. "What are you doing?"

"Shut your mouth, little ugly girl," Avila told her cheerfully. "I'm about to warm you up from the inside." She buckled the thing around her hips, revealing a long golden cylinder jutting out from over her pubic mound. Then she grabbed each of Sophia's hips and stepped towards the rim.

"I don't have a lot of experience with penetration," Sophia said warily and to Olivia's mind not entirely accurately. The King had used the clit-growing potion she'd obtained from the foreign mage many times to penetrate the Queen, often for hours at a time. "Be gentlAAAAAAAAAGH!"

"You aren't stupid. What possessed you to think that I would be gentle?" Avila panted back, buried to the root in Sophia. She began to violently yank the King's boyish thighs against her, sliding the golden shaft in and out of the young, tight pussy. "Scream for me!"

"AAAAAAAAAHHH! Oh fuck!" Sophia writhed on the wet stone as Avila fucked her, her tiny breasts quivering. "AAAAAAA!"

Olivia watched as her daughter was taken, a sour mix of arousal and envy bubbling inside her. Sophia had never let Olivia take this sort of role with her. Olivia was always the one who got fucked, not the one doing the fucking. Sophia was the dominant husband, Olivia the submitting wife. Seeing her daughter like this, being mastered, made her unexpectedly horny. And a bit hurt and angry that she wasn't the one getting to do it.

Then a hand moved from her breasts and down her stomach, jerking her attention back to her own position. "Looks like Avila's learned diplomacy," Egrid said, amused. "In her own violent way."

"I thought orcs were violent," Olivia managed.

"We can be." Egrid kissed her neck, and she drew in her breath. "But we can be gentle, too." The hand slid down her stomach, into her black bush, and...

"Oh. Ohhhh!" Olivia gave a low moan as fingers stroked her engorged clitoris. "Egrid, I... I..." Another finger dipped into the very opening of her pussy, and she leaned back, pressing against the half-orc's broad chest.

As Sophia grunted and cried out under Avila's relentless thrusts, Olivia quivered and gasped, waves of pleasure washing up from her button. Egrid's smell filled her nostrils; thick, musky, physical. The smell of an orc, having their way with her. She moaned, arousal sweeping her away. When Egrid's mouth closed over hers again, she returned the kiss, letting her tongue twine with the swordswoman's.

"Beg me for it!" Avila snarled, breathing heavily. "Beg!"

"Avila! Please, Avila!" Sophia gasped, tears running from her eyes. "More!"

"Little slut!" The redheaded templar pushed herself out of the springs and fully onto her partner. Pinning Sophia to the ground with her powerful frame, Avila grabbed her by the wrists and hammered at her with increasing lust, making her wail.

"Orcs always carry off the best of the women," Egrid panted, her fingers stroking Olivia's womanhood, slipping in and out of her. Her furry mound ground against the base of the Queen's ass. "That's why you knew one would come for you."

"Are you going to throw me over one shoulder and carry me off?" Olivia whispered back. "Off to a cave with your orc band? Are you going to chain me down and fuck me over and over again?" What was she saying?!?

"You like that idea, don't you?" Egrid replied, grinning.

"I... I..." Olivia gave a short cry as green fingers played her cunt like an instrument. Turning her head, they kissed again, Olivia's ample breasts bobbing up and down as Egrid frotted herself against her bottom.

"Yes! Fuck! Aaagh!" With a pained yowl, Sophia came, body straining as she climaxed under Avila's pinioning body. The templar continued to thrust even after the orgasm had died, evoking cries of pain.

Finally, with a cry, Avila shuddered and ground to a halt. She quivered atop Sophia for a second, then rolled off of her, the cylinder sliding free with a wet slurp. Propping herself up on one arm, she pulled Sophia close with the other, and then stroked the monarch's golden hair. "Well, that was fucking terrible," she said fondly. "It's a good thing you're so smart, because you can't put out worth shit."

"Was I that bad?" Sophia murmured.

"Worse," Avila replied, then bent down to kiss her. "Maybe you'll improve, though."

"Mmm." Sophia cuddled against her. "Thank you, Avila."

"You're very welcome, my boy-chested little girl-king. I hope I showed you something new." Avila's tone was oddly tender.

"You did." Sophia gave her a peck on the cheek, then glanced over into the pool. "Captain, is the Queen done... entertaining you?"

"Uh, yes, your majesty." Egrid abruptly let go of Olivia. Flushing a deep crimson, the Queen looked guiltily up, rudely slapped out of the sexual haze that had blanketed her mind.

"Good." Sophia climbed to her feet, then bent to get her clothing. "We're leaving now. Get a towel from the rack and dry off, then get dressed."

"I... that is, I..." Olivia stammered, trying to... to what? Explain?

"Later, Mother," Sophia said, amused. "Get dressed. Unless you want Captain Egrid to carry you naked to your room?"

"N-No! Dressed. Yes." Olivia stood, water dripping from her nude body, and climbed hurriedly from the pool.

The four women dried themselves off in silence. Finishing, they dressed, then walked to the door of the chamber.

"I like you better without the gown," Avila told Olivia. "Maybe next visit I can see you out of it again. Play with those big full tits of yours."

Olivia shrank back, and Avila laughed. Turning, she took Sophia into her arms and kissed her. The two stood there, pressed together, while Olivia fumed and Egrid fidgeted. Then they separated, smiling at each other.

"Let's go," Sophia said, handing Avila a lantern. With a snort, the templar led the way back up the steps.

As they emerged from the staircase into the main castle, Avila nodded. "We'll conclude negotiations tomorrow morning, King Sophia. I have my evening devotions to see to." She strode towards the guest wing without a further word.

"I'm going to go see if the kitchen is open. Your majesty, your highness." Egrid gave a cheerful wink, then ambled away herself.

"Come along, Mother." Sophia took her arm, and they walked down a hall, then up the stairs to the royal apartments.

"What in the name of the gods was that?" Olivia hissed once they were out of earshot of the guards at the entrance to the apartments. "You seduced her right in front of me!"

"Or maybe she seduced me?" Sophia smiled. "I've been playing the man for you for so long, my Queen. I wanted to be a woman for a night."

"I could have done that!" Olivia's voice was tight and angry. "It should have been me!"

"Oh? You could have done that?" Sophia stared at her, and Olivia slowly looked away, flushing. "That's right. You could never have done that. Tell me, how was your orc?"

"I... you told me to, and..."

"I told you to let the greenskin fingerfuck you?" Sophia sounded half-amused, half-irritated. "I told you to like it?"

"I... I didn't... I mean..." She swallowed, mouth dry.

"Just remember who's Queen you are. You may be a slut, Mother, but you're MY slut, and you spread your legs for ME on command. Not for some halfbreed mercenary. Clear?"

"Yes, Lord Sophia." Olivia felt a surge of pleasure along with the misery. She was sure Sophia was jealous. "Shall we go to your chamber and-"

"No. I am fucking sore. Anyway, you probably stink of orc." Sophia's voice dripped scorn. "Go to your room and do whatever sluts do when nobody feels like servicing them."

"Yes, Lord Sophia," she replied heavily.

With a toss of her head, the King turned her back on the Queen and walked away.

Sighing, Olivia trudged a few more steps to the door of her rooms, feeling frustrated and denied. Her encounter with Egrid had got her stirred up without any release, and she suspected she would do exactly what Sophia had implied she would; indulge in a solitary vice.

Opening the door, she took a few steps in and stopped dead. Petra was curled up on the end of her bed, naked, fast asleep. "Petra! What are you doing here?"

Yawning, the halfling opened one sleepy eye. "It's time for bed, Miss Olivia."

"Yes, but why HERE?"

The halfling looked baffled. "Where else would I sleep?"

Olivia sighed again. The answer to that was in Tesaiel's room or with the castle servants, but it was late enough that the former wasn't an option, and given past history she didn't want to risk the latter. "Very well." There would be no solitary vice after all. "I am coming to bed now myself. It's been a long day."

"Yes, miss."

Pulling her gown off, the Queen changed into her thin nightgown and clambered into bed. "Tell me, Petra, do you know Captain Egrid well?"

"I don't think she's a captain, miss."

"Yes, so I keep being told."

"I guess I do?" Petra yawned sleepily. "I see her a lot."

"What is she like?"

"Oh, she's big and friendly and gets on Mistress's nerves sometimes. And she kills people a lot."

"Kills... people?" Olivia asked weakly.

"Or maybe just hurts them badly? I guess they don't cause Mistress any trouble afterwards?"

"I see." Olivia gave a little shudder. "Good night, Petra."

"Good night, Miss Olivia."

"Queen Oli- oh, never mind." Closing her eyes, the exhausted Queen turned her head to the pillow and let sleep claim her.

---

For an indeterminate amount of time Olivia floated on the boundary between dream and wakefulness, borne on a tide of pleasure and arousal. She made soft, satisfied noises and turned her head, shifting slightly.

A mouth closed around her left nipple, sucking, and she let out a pleased gasp. As she did, she floated out of the veil of sleep and into something resembling being awake. Muzzily, she became aware of a warm weight on her bare lower chest. Who is that? she thought with hazy alarm, and opened her eyes.

It was pitch dark in the chamber, but the size of the outline atop her left no doubt who it was. "Petra?" she slurred. "What are you..." Her words vanished in a groan as a tiny hand dipped down to play with her damp petals.

With single-minded focus, the halfling girl nursed fervently at one round breast, her little tongue teasing the red nipple. Two fingers dipped inside the Queen as a thumb and forefinger stroked her button. Olivia gasped with pleasure as she worked, her eyes closing again.

Taking her mouth from the hard, stiff aureola now damp with saliva, Petra began to lick her way down the side of the Queen's breast. Her hand continued to work, and Olivia's head tossed back and forth.

The tiny tongue moved down to tickle her stomach, and then the hand withdrew. Petra slid down off her, and then her small hands pushed Olivia's thighs open. The slave bent her head to the Queen's wet, waiting snatch, and with a happy sound began to lick and suck at her pussy.

Eyes still squeezed shut, Olivia writhed, legs open, breathing shallow. Her hands snaked down to run through Petra's mop of hair, sliding from her scalp to her loose ponytail. The lapping little tongue seemed to be everywhere in her; on her clit, tasting her folds, delving deep into her eager vagina. "Ohhhh, yes," she murmured.

She floated in this state of ecstacy for an unclear span of minutes, and then a shudder gripped her. Groaning, she grabbed tightly hold of the sheets and pushed her head back into the pillow. A quiver went through her, then another, and then like a boat going over a waterfall, she climaxed. Her nectar drenched the halfling's small face, and she let out a long, low cry of sated desire.

When the quivers died away, she felt her limbs go limp again, and fatigue steal back. Petra's head nestled down upon her dew-damp thighs, and Olivia tried to think of what she should say. Before anything occurred to her, she had fallen back asleep.

---

Olivia woke with a start, wondering what time it was. She couldn't miss the resumption of negotiations...

Dim memories of the night flooded back to her at the same time that she realized Petra was curled tight against her, head nestled under her breasts, nut-brown mop of pubic fur mixed with Olivia's own black bush. The Queen flushed bright red and gave a little chirp of dismay. This was definitely NOT proper or diplomatic.

"P-Petra," she said as firmly as she could manage. "Petra! Wake up right now."

With a drowsy murmur, the slave's squirrelish face poked up from between the Queen's full breasts. "Good morning, Miss Olivia. Did you sleep well?"

"Petra..." What did you say in a situation like this? "It is very rude to touch sleeping people like that without their permission."

"I'm sorry, miss. The night before you were calling my name, so I thought you wanted my services. And then I thought you'd want them tonight, too." The halfling giggled and gave Olivia a sly smile. "You seemed pretty happy with them, miss."

"I, uh..." Given how she had gone to bed, the release had been gratifying. "I was half asleep."

"Would you like me to take care of you now that you're awake?" Petra's voice was somehow rather less innocent than it had been; the halfling winked at her, and then wiggled, grinding her muff against Olivia's own mound. Very deliberately, she turned her head and lightly flicked one nipple with her tongue.

"Uh, Petra, we really shouldn't." Olivia swallowed.

"Are you sure? It's a pleasure to service such a great lady." Petra pushed herself forwards, rearing up; her own tiny breasts pressed against the Queen's. "Am I not attractive enough, miss?"

At the moment, looking at Petra's wiggling round bottom, feeling the soft spheres of their upper bodies rubbing together, and remembering coming under that clever little mouth, Olivia had to admit that she did find the halfling desirable in an uncomfortable sort of way. "You're very attractive, Petra," she replied. "But I don't want to get us both in trouble."

"Oh, I don't think I can give you a baby," Petra told her confidently. "We're both women."

"No, that's not what I meant," Olivia said. "I mean that your Mistress and my King are likely to be upset with us if they find out about this." 

"Oh." Petra looked taken aback. "That's bad. Should we just not mention it?"

"I think that is for the best," Olivia agreed firmly.

Petra nodded, looking disappointed. Then her eyes widened. "Does this mean we had a forbidden love affair, miss?"

Olivia stared at her, then laughed despite herself. "Yes, Petra. If it makes you happy."

"I had a forbidden love affair with a beautiful Queen!" Petra bounced up and down on her in excitement. "I love being a slave!"

Shaking her head, Olivia sighed. Some lover. At least she had gotten a much-needed orgasm out of it. "Can you get off of me, dear? I need to get up."

"Yes, Miss Olivia." A little reluctantly, Petra climbed off, gazing at her with obvious admiration. "I really love your body, miss. It was really wonderful to touch you in your special places and make you happy."

Olivia blushed, as once again she became acutely aware of the sheer degree of sexual desire in Petra's stare and of the halfling's possibilities as a lover rather than an adorable servant. She had a sudden, vivid vision of bending her face to the furry brown mop between the slave's legs and tasting the tiny slit, making her little body squeal and tremble with passion...

"Thank you, Petra," she said a little regretfully. "It was very nice. Now let's get dressed."

When they were properly clothed, Olivia walked with Petra out of the royal wing, then down a staircase. "Do you remember where the great hall is from here?" she asked.

"Yes, miss."

"Good. They'll be serving breakfast now. I need to go-" She stopped. Without a word of farewell, Petra was dashing eagerly off down the stairs.

Olivia shook her head. Apparently she was wonderful and desirable right up until the prospect of a meal presented itself, whereupon she was dumped like a sack of moldy flour. Should she be jealous that a plate of greasy sausages and boiled potatoes had stolen her lover's affections? With a rueful chuckle, she headed for the butlers' pantry.

Things were mostly in order there, she found to her satisfaction; yesterday had taught everyone what was expected, and only a few changes were needed. When she finished, she ate a light breakfast with one of the head maids and asked after their family.

"They've left their farm and fled west," the maid replied, shaking her head. "The border raid has everyone frightened, and no wonder. It's been bad enough in the east with the orcs and all, but between Ergalreik and our army they were kept mostly in check. Now..." The maid shuddered. "I'm glad they got out. I never felt safe there, growing up."

"Where there any incidents while you were there?"

"A few. We had to fire bows from the main house a few times. The orcs dragged off one of the dairymaids once. We could hear her screaming back at the house." The head maid's eyes were shadowed with memory. "Nobody ever saw her again. There's rumors that she's still alive, with one of the bands, but nobody knows for sure. I was only 14, but that was the day I swore I was moving to a real city, somewhere civilized."

Olivia nodded, remembering the burning farmsteads and the plump farmgirl the orcs had flushed out of hiding. They had still been using her when Olivia, Sophie, and Cymru had left. "Do they have a place to stay?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how they'll earn their bread." The maid's voice was worried. "I'm waiting to hear more."

"Well, I hope it is good news." After a few more pleasantries Olivia rose, handed her used dishes to a servant, and then made her way through the castle towards the conference room.

The route there took her through the Virgin's Gallery, a long corridor lined on one side with paintings of past queens and princesses as young women, and on the other with curtained alcoves used to store mops and buckets and the odd piece of art not being used at the moment. There was never much traffic through it, and the long, empty expanse and the echoing noise her footsteps made on the polished floors always made her walk a little faster and be somewhat relieved upon reaching the end.

Today was much the same. As she walked down the hall, the women seemed to gaze down accusingly from their canvasses at her. Some of them had come to bad ends; Queen Merilon had poisoned her husband and usurped the throne before being deposed and beheaded by her son, and Princess Elsabet had been captured by rebels on her 18th birthday, just days after sitting for the portrait, and gang-raped for weeks before being disposed of in the southern slave markets when the rebellion collapsed. Olivia vaguely wondered if the Favorite had been named after her. Probably not. It was a common enough name in the region.

A hand suddenly fell upon her shoulder. Startled, she opened her mouth to give a little shriek, only to have another hand clamp over her mouth. As she struggled and made muffled cries, she was yanked back into one of the alcoves, into the darkness behind the curtain.

"Take it easy, your majesty," Egrid's voice said. "It's just me."

The hand was removed from her mouth, and Olivia turned and loudly exhaled, heart pounding. "You scared me to death, captain! I didn't hear you come up!"

"Just Egrid, please. I'm not a captain. And yeah, sorry, I can move pretty quiet. Sort of a habit." The half-orc was a looming outline in the shadow of the alcove.

"Are you... are you an assassin? As your regular job, I mean?" Petra's comments the night before had made her morbidly curious.

The swordswoman looked startled. "An...? No, not really. Mostly I'm a bodyguard for the boss. Also, sometimes he has me or my people send messages, if you get my meaning."

She thought she did. "That sounds... violent," she ventured.

Egrid shrugged. "I live by the sword, your highness. It's the same business as a working knight, just with less frippery."

Nodding, Olivia cleared her throat. "Was there something you wanted?" She realized how that could be taken a second after she said it, and bit her lip. "I mean, to speak to me about?"

"Just wanted to talk a little. We were sort of interrupted last night."

"Ah... yes." Olivia fidgeted. "I... um..."

"You were talking about me carrying you off to my orc lair." Egrid's voice sounded deeply amused.

The Queen flushed, feeling suddenly foolish. "I'm sorry. I hope that didn't offend you. I don't know what I was saying."

"Don't worry about it, I'm used to it. My girlfriend says that sort of thing to me all the time. It turns her on."

"You have a girlfriend?" Olivia blinked. "Is she another half-orc, or a human?"

"An elf of noble bloodline, actually. And no, not Tesaiel," Egrid hurriedly added. "Tesaiel strictly fancies the gentlemen."

"I once thought I did," Olivia replied ruefully. "Should you really be running around on your lady?" She was rather impressed despite herself; it made her own encounter with Egrid seem a little less aberrant.

"Oh, we have an open relationship. Neither of us wants to limit ourselves, and we're not the jealous type. We're talking about marriage, but right now, not really practical. She has her social status, and I have mine, and the two aren't really compatible." Egrid grinned. "Like yours and mine aren't."

"I wasn't offering to marry you," Olivia said primly.

"That's right. You seemed to have more of an abduct-and-ravish thing in mind." Egrid leaned forward a bit. "Gotten over your fear of orcs yet?"

"N-No." Olivia took a step back, bumping into the alcove wall. "I'm afraid y-you still make me nervous."

"Mmm. Well, you are wearing a gown again." Egrid took a step forwards. "I promise I won't rip it."

The Queen felt her heart pound. "Egrid, I'm scared."

The swordswoman bent, her hands resting against the wall on either side of Olivia's head, and brought her fanged mouth to the Queen's. Trembling, Olivia closed her eyes as she was kissed, then hesitantly began to return it.

After a few moments, Egrid broke the kiss. "Still scared?"

"Y-Yes." The half-orc's eyes had a faint red glow to them in the dark. Images of the farmgirl taking three orc cocks at a time danced her her head, along with memories of her fear at the time that she would be next. "I am."

In responce, Egrid kissed her again, and she returned it. Her hands, which had been clutched defensively in front of her, wandered out to touch the half-orc's leather-clad stomach. A scarred hand lightly stroked her cheek, and she took a shuddering breath.

"Maybe you're scared an orc is going to ravish you," Egrid murmured. "Going to make you shake and beg as they take you over and over again."

"Maybe." Olivia's heart was pounding. She could feel a moistness between her legs. "Maybe I have reason to be scared."

"Maybe." Egrid leaned in again, and as their mouths met the Queen's hands stroked down to rest on the half-orc's hips. They kissed slowly, tongues touching, until Egrid broke it by moving her lips from Olivia's mouth to her neck. "That's what orcs like to do with beautiful, elegant queens."

Olivia gave a little groan, her head tilting back. This was... this was deeply unwise. Her own fears asides, Sophia had basically warned her not to get too close to Egrid. If she found out, she would probably be angry, and Olivia had always done her best to be a loyal, faithful Queen to her husband. Even if Sophia was having an affair with Colonel Elsabet. And had sex with Avila right in front of Olivia.

A little flame of rebellion stirred. Why was Sophia allowed affairs but not her? Sophia wasn't even filling her needs completely these days! Too busy catting about with the younger Favorite. And it wasn't as if Olivia had sought this out, was it?

"Beautiful and elegant?" she murmured.

"The most beautiful." Egrid's lips caressed her collarbone. "The most elegant."

"Do you.. do you think a savage orc could please such a queen?" she asked, voice shaking a little. "Could satisfy her?"

"I think it would depend," Egrid purred, "on whether or not the Queen submitted to the lusts of her brutal captor." Her lips reached the top of Olivia's ample cleavage.

Olivia swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. "I think, having been dragged off, the Queen has no choice but to submit." She reached a trembling hand out to lightly touch Egrid's cheek. "To her captor's wild lusts."

Grinning, Egrid raised her head and kissed her deeply on the lips. Then, stepping back, she took an object out of her kit bag. Tugging down her pants, she strapped the object on above her coarse, thick pubic fur. Olivia's eyes widened; it was a long, rune-carved phallus made out of some sort of polished horn. "Oh gods," she said, staring at it.

"Up against the wall, captive," Egrid murmured. "Turn around."

Olivia complied, placing her hands against the stone to brace herself. Leaning forward, she took a wide stance and pushed back her bottom. "Please don't sate yourself on my body, you monster," she pleaded, terror mixing with excitement and anticipation.

"You're an orcish sex slave now," Egrid growled. Olivia felt cool air hit her moist cleft as the swordswoman hiked up the back of the Queen's gown to expose her round bottom. "If you give in, maybe I'll keep you to myself. Instead of letting the rest of the band have you."

"Very well," Olivia whispered, quivering. "Take me. My body is yours, until I am rescued."

Egrid's scarred hands took her by the hips, and she felt the hard tip of the runecock slide against her petals. A drop of slickness ran down the inside of her leg. Egrid leaned over her, and kissed her ear. "What are you?"

"An orcish sex slave. Oh gods, Egrid, now!"

With an eager growl, Egrid surged forwards. Olivia gave a squealing cry as the shaft speared her moist cunt, lifting her off her feet and pushing her forwards against the hard stone of the alcove wall. Her legs gave little kicks at the air as Egrid held her by her hips and thrust away.

Amidst the delicious fear and waves of pleasure, Olivia was surprised at how warm the runeshaft invading her was. She had expected a cold, hard object; it was hard all right, but almost hot as it threshed her royal pussy. Every stroke sent her upper body and breasts rubbing forwards against the stone, and her hands scrabbled to hold on to the rough wall. Her gown still covered her front like a loincloth, but her naked legs quivered as Egrid stood between them, penetrating her under her bare, fetchingly hiked ass framed by the bunched-up folds of fabric.

"Ohhhh," she groaned. "Oh godsss..." Egrid leaned forward to kiss her neck, and the Queen licked her lips. Her breath was coming heavily now as Egrid pumped away, taking her forcefully from behind. The orc was so strong... she had been captured, and now she had to submit... submit to orcish cocks, pleasuring her over and over...

Soon Olivia's pants had becoming moans, her fantasy entirely sweeping her away. Her struggles grew more vigorous, and somehow all seemed to involve ramming herself harder and harder into Egrid's rune-scored dildo. Her mouth hung slackly open as the half-orc roughly serviced her, her ample chest heaving as it was pushed into the stone with each thrust between her spread, quivering legs.

She pictured Egrid storming the castle, setting it on fire. Cornering her in this corridor while her troops ran amok through the blazing halls. Then taking her, before carrying her off naked and defiled, the orc Chief only taking the most beautiful, desirable woman in the castle as a prize...

"Uhngghh! Oh!" she moaned happily. "S-Savage!"

Egrid, grunting with pleasure herself, started to reply. Then both of their heads jerked around in shock as the alcove curtain was abruptly jerked away, flooding the niche with light and revealing a surprised-looking Lady Tesaiel.

"Egrid!" the elf hissed angrily. "What the hells do you think you're DOING?!?"

The half-orc didn't slow her thrusts into the Queen's dripping hole for a second. "Oh, hi Tesaiel," she replied, breathing heavily. "I think it's pretty obvious what I'm doing."

Olivia's face turned bright scarlet as she stared at the elven noblewoman in horror. "I..! We...! You...!" Then, against her will, she let out a deep moan as a shudder of passion shook her.

"With the QUEEN, Egrid? With the fucking QUEEN?" Tesaiel was practically dancing with rage. "I almost have a deal signed and you go and assfuck the Queen in a PUBLIC HALLWAY?"

"Tesaiel! Language!" Egrid sounded almost shocked. "And I'm not in her ass."

"I caaan... uungh! expla... explain.... unghf! everythiiing!" Olivia gasped, wiggling in agitation. "Oh gods!"

"What if you'd been caught!" Tesaiel snarled. "Couldn't you at least have taken her back to your ROOM if you wanted to mount her that badly? Do you not have any self-control?"

"Good point," Egrid replied, straining as she kept on. "Why don't you go keep watch while we finish. And close the curtain."

Tesaiel quivered, glared, and then violently yanked the curtain shut with a muffled elvish curse.

"Now, where were we," Egrid murmured.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh OHHHHHHHH," Olivia wailed, as utter mortification warred with her horny body's delight.

"That's right," the half-orc replied happily, and increased the speed of her strokes. Soon Olivia was uttering cries of sheer lust as she was bounced up and down against the wall by the pumping runecock in her clenching, black-furred snatch.

"Anghh... ungh..." Egrid grunted, her hands tightening painfully on Olivia's hips. There was a sensation of wetness against the Queen's bottom, and liquid began to drizzle onto the floor. The half-orc had reached a climax, Olivia realized, and almost immediately after she felt her own body begin to spasm.

"Egrid... Eg.. aaahnn!" Olivia threw her head back and gave a short cry, her orgasm hitting her like a hammer. Her own slickness rained down, to mix and puddle with her lover's on the stones between their feet. Her mind went utterly blank.

When she stopped shuddering, she felt Egrid slowly slide out of her sopping cunt and lower her gently to the floor. "You were magnificent, Queen Olivia," the half-orc murmured. "Like a goddess."

Still breathing heavily and trembling with the afterglow, Olivia turned to face her. "I'm sure you say that to all your women," she softly replied. "But thank you."

Egrid smiled. "Still scared of orcs?"

"Yes. But I think I understand better why, now." She gave a weak smile. "Your girlfriend is a lucky woman."

Bending, Egrid kissed her, and they held each other for a few seconds. Then Egrid steped back, unstrapped the runecock, and pulled her breeches up. Looking critically at Olivia, she reached out and adjusted the Queen's gown, smoothing parts and straightening the shoulders. "There. All presentable."

"Good." She bit her lip. "L-Let's go see if Lady Tesaiel is still there."

She was. "Egrid," the elven noblewoman said coldly as they emerged from the alcove. "Queen Olivia." That greeting held only slightly more warmth.

"I'm very sorry," Olivia told her, humiliation coloring her cheeks crimson. She wrung her hands. "It was completely my fault. I-"

"Please, your highness, you have no need to apologize to me," Tesaiel said, cutting her off. "But if I may ask a favor, please, may you not mention this... affair... to anyone? And if it happens again before we leave... which, Egrid, it had better not... can you please be... less vocally enthusiastic?"

Oh gods. She must have heard Olivia orgasm. "Y-Yes, of c-course," the Queen managed wretchedly. "I'm so sorry."

"Tesaiel, could you get off her back?" Egrid replied with a hint of anger. "You want to yell at someone, yell at me."

The elf first looked angry, then surprised, then thoughtful. "I'm sorry, Egrid," she slowly replied. "I may have misjudged your motives." Then she sighed. "And my apologies as well, your highness. You're a single woman and I've no right to tell you whom to dally with, especially when I am your guest."

Olivia shook her head. "I share your concern over the success of the talks, Lady Tesaiel. I should have thought about that before..." Her cheeks colored again. "Nobody will hear of this from me, believe me. I just..." Her voice trailed brokenly off, and Egrid put a hand on her arm and squeezed.

Tesaiel now looked sheepish and embarrassed. "I understand. I have been... similarly indiscreet in the past, for what I suspect are much the same reasons. Although not, thank the gods, with this idiot."

"Not from lack of trying on my part," Egrid said cheerfully.

"I believe I mentioned earlier that Egrid can be difficult and tiresome at times," Tesaiel replied sourly. "Also a slow learner. I am going to go and hopefully finalize the deal now; I just wanted to find Egrid to tell her to have the men ready to leave by noon." She frowned. "Also, has anyone seen Petra? She seems to have found separate quarters from me."

"Ah, yes, I saw her earlier," Olivia said nervously. "She was heading down to the great hall for breakfast."

"Of course she was," Tesaiel sighed. "The girl would eat all night if you let her."

Images of the halfling devouring the dish of fur pie Olivia had spread before her last night rose in the Queen's brain, and she tried not to react. "Really?" she managed to say, weakly.

"More than once I've caught her in bed after hours stuffing a long length of sausage into her greedy little- Egrid, is something the matter?" Tesaiel looked at the half-orc sharply.

"Nothing," Egrid replied, smothering her mirth.

"Let's get going," Olivia said hurriedly. "We don't want to be late."

"Is it being held again in the room with... the tapestries?" Tesaiel asked.

"Yes. I'm glad you noticed them." Olivia smiled at her. "I picked some of them out with you in mind."

Tesaiel turned faintly pale, then faintly pink, then cleared her breath nervously. "Let us go, then."

How odd, the Queen thought as they left.

---

The treaty was signed well before noon, with a minimum of ceremony. Scribes recorded two copies, and King Sophia clasped hands with Avila and Tesaiel to seal the pact. A celebratory luncheon was eaten, and then that was that.

"Less than what I wanted," Tesaiel commented as she walked with Olivia to the courtyard to board her coach. "But it will have to do. Come along, Pet."

Her slave dutifully followed. "Goodbye, Miss Olivia," she said regretfully.

"QUEEN Olivia," Tesaiel scolded, giving the halfling a light swat on the neck. "You need to show proper respect to those so far above you in station. Don't be so familiar."

"It's fine," Olivia hurriedly said. "Goodbye, Petra. I hope your stay was pleasant."

"Oh yes, Mi- Queen Olivia," the girl responded politely. She looked up, and her eyes locked with the Queen's. "If my Mistress visits in the future, I hope to enjoy your warm overnight hospitality again." She licked her small lips.

"Uh... thank you, dear," Olivia managed, fidgeting. "I'm glad you... enjoyed yourself."

"That was much better, Pet," Tesaiel said approvingly. "Very courtly. We'll make a proper lady's retainer of you yet."

Petra beamed, and gazed up at her Mistress adoringly.

"Have a good trip, Lady Tesaiel," Olivia said. "Give my regards to Egrid."

"I shall," the elf promised. Then she smiled. "Farewell, Queen Olivia. Thank you for hosting us. I'm glad it wasn't a completely thankless task."

Blushing, Olivia nodded quickly. Then she turned, and walked back inside the keep.

She hadn't gone five paces when she nearly ran headlong into Avila. The templar reached out to steady her. "Careful, your highness."

"Ah, yes, thank you." Olivia swallowed, glancing around. They were completely alone in the hallway, and Avila had hands on her. This was exactly what she had been fearing since the woman had arrived.

The redheaded zealot seemed to read her mind, and chuckled; then she let go and took a small step back. "Don't worry, Queen Olivia. I've no serious intentions towards you."

Olivia blinked. "You've hardly spoken of anything OTHER than your intentions towards me."

"Yes, well." Avila shrugged. "You're comely enough for your age, and I normally wouldn't refuse a bite of that dish, but I was aiming for your daughter."

Confused and insulted, the Queen stared at her. "You've been demeaning and ridiculing my daughter non-stop! Are you mad?"

"Oh, that was just flirting."

"FLIRTING?" Olivia just gaped at the grinning templar. "That's what you call flirting?!?"

"It worked, didn't it?" Avila smiled a lazy smile. "Your daughter's not a doormat like you, Queen Olivia. She likes it rough. I've wanted to fuck her since the first hour I arrived. She's a woman after my own heart." A note of uncharacteristic fondness entered her voice. "I hope it was good for her too. For all that strength, she's young and still learning."

Olivia looked at the woman in shock. "You really care for her, don't you?" she said accusingly.

"I care for all my women, your highness," Avila replied. "Except the whores. An affair of passion is a special thing, and making love is sweeter when you treasure your lover. Don't get me wrong. Likely I'll never see her again, and that brings me no sadness. But I'll carry the memory forever, like a precious jewel."

Olivia sighed. "You are a very complicated woman, Templar. Now I don't know what to think."

Avila shrugged. "I serve Kravos. That's all you need to know about me. The rest is unimportant." She stepped around the Queen, and continued walking. "One parting word, though."

"Yes?"

"Your daughter doesn't respect you. Not as a queen, not as a person. Find some fucking backbone. Or stow away in the half-orc's luggage and become her whore in Dylak-Leem. Just do something, soon."

"How DARE you!" Olivia exploded, rage filling her. "You impudent bitch! Get out! Leave my home NOW, before I forget diplomacy and have you flogged naked in the city square!"

"Hmph. Well, it's a start," Avila replied appraisingly. Then, with a nod, she left.

---

Nearly a week later, Olivia was reading in a sitting room after dinner when Sophia came in. The monarch was clad in a dark, tight outfit of black and midnight blue; even the buckles of the belt on her breeches were a dull, enameled black. She walked up and then simply stood there, watching the Queen read.

Looking up, Olivia smiled at her. "Lord Sophia. I haven't seen you much this week." That was true, and it bothered her. Maybe the aftermath of the treaty simply had her busy. The Queen worried it was more than that, though. For one thing, they hadn't been intimate since before the negotiations, much to Olivia's frustration.

"I've had things to set up, my Queen. But you'll be happy to know I require the pleasure of your company tonight." Sophia offered her an arm. "If you'll accompany me to my rooms?"

"Of course." Pleased, she got up, attached herself to the offered arm, and left with the King.

Sophia said little as they went, and Olivia didn't attempt to make conversation. They reached the King's quarters, went in, and shut the door securely. Then Sophia stepped back and examined her. "Why don't you take your clothes off."

"As my King commands." Demurely, she slipped out of her gown and stood naked on the fur rug, nipples erect in the cold air. A pleasant buzz of anticipation filled her body. "How do you wish to enjoy me tonight?"

"Oh, not yet, my horny Queen," Sophia said with a laugh. "Go have a look on the bed."

Puzzled, Olivia did. There was a pair of midnight blue lingerie; stockings, a garter belt, crotchless and assless panties. And a dress... a creamy white, almost bridal, but with the upper chest and below the waist being made up of a scandalously thin, gauzy fabric that would give the viewer an excellent look at what lay underneath. A white cap and veil was the final piece.

"Put it on," Sophia told her.

Whatever this game was, it was elaborate. That was fine with her. Smiling, she pulled on the stockings. Olivia hadn't worn underwear since she was a young woman, newly engaged to King Grevis. It was generally considered the province of young upper class women, fancy whores, and Abois. She'd certainly never worn anything as racy as this. Fastening the garter belt, she pulled on the dress, fumbled with the buttons, and then donned the cap. With a slight twirl, she walked over to the mirror and had a look.

It was deliciously scandalous, she had to admit. The blue lingerie outlined her legs under the filmy dress skirt, and the fabric was thin enough that her thick bush was clearly visible between her thighs. Her large breasts pushed out the equally thin cloth over the chest, allowing one to spot the wide red areola capping each mound.

Turning, she posed, cocking one hip. "Do you like what you see?" she murmured.

"Very much," Sophia replied, grinning. "You'll make a marvelous impression." She tossed Olivia a bundle. "Cover yourself, and come with me."

As Sophia walked to a bookcase, the Queen examined the bundle in confusion. It was a thick, hooded black cloak. As she looked up to ask a question, she was shocked to se the bookcase swing open, revealing a dark passage behind it. "L-Lord Sophia! What is THAT?"

"A secret passage, of course," Sophia replied irritably. "Don't be dense. Come along, now."

Hurriedly pulling the cloak around her, Olivia nervously followed her daughter into the dark. The King took a lantern from an alcove, lit it, and led the way forward.

Once or twice they passed side corridors, all eerily dark and silent. Coming to a winding stair, they started to descend. "I had no idea this was here," Olivia said, amazed. "I lived most of my life in this castle, as queen, and I never knew."

"Very few do," Sophia replied. "Which is for the best."

"How did you find out?" Olivia asked. She had trouble picturing Grevis choosing to confide in Sophia ahead of her.

Her daughter gave her a long, emotionless stare, then looked away. "He used to bring me to his quarters through it."

Olivia frowned. "Why wouldn't he just use the normal-" What Sophia was saying suddenly dawned on her, and she came to an abrupt halt on the stairs, horrified.

"You didn't know?" Sophia seemed faintly surprised. "I thought you knew." She gave a harsh chuckle. "He was careful to always do it in my ass. Didn't want to spoil me for marriage. Gods, it hurt. I'm told some women get pleasure from it, but I find that hard to believe."

"Oh gods, Sophie, why didn't you TELL me?" Olivia cried. "I would have..." She trailed off. Would have what? Done what? Defied who?

"I assumed you knew," Sophia replied. "You tolerated everything else he did." A note of cold anger crept into her voice. "And you forget yourself, Queen Olivia. Never call me 'Sophie' again. That part of our lives is dead."

"Yes, Lord Sophia," Olivia replied, shaken. "As my King wills."

"Good girl." They descended the stairs in silence.

At the bottom, they took a side passage, and followed it to what seemed like a dead end. Sophia fiddled with the wall, and it swung open to reveal the inside of a small, dusty cloakroom, devoid of cloaks, coats, or boots. The two walked through it, opened the door, and emerged into a hallway Olivia vaguely recognized; it was just inside one of the lesser-used doors out to the courtyard. To her growing confusion and alarm, Sophia led her through that door; Olivia hesitated at the threshold, unwilling to appear in such an exposed space in her current outfit, but the King impatiently put both hands on her backside and shoved, stending her stumbling forwards.

Immediately outside the door waited a coach, black as night and with no crest or arms upon it. Pulling the black cloak tightly around her, Olivia quickly walked to the open door and climbed inside, followed by her daughter. She was surprised and displeased to see Colonel Elsabet already inside.

The door shut, and the coach began to roll. Soon it was moving through the city at a good clip, then out the gates and into the countryside. Looking out the window into the crimson evening light, the Queen could see outriders on either side of the coach, escorting it. That was only normal, but these riders wore no military uniforms or emblems, and none of them were anyone she recognized from the royal guards.

"Where are we going?" she asked, a note of apprehension creeping into her voice.

"You're accompanying me on a diplomatic mission," Sophia said pleasantly. "You proved such a welcoming host, I'm sure you'll do me proud this time."

"Your majesty, I... I'm not really dressed for this," Olivia said, cringing a little at the thought of appearing before foreign dignitaries in the scandalous outfit. "I don't want to embarrass..."

"Nonsense. You look splendid. Doesn't she, Colonel?"

"The Queen looks quite well for a lady of her age," the Favorite said with false courtesy. Olivia was tempted to slap the woman. She felt she compared quite well to the skinny, horse-faced bitch, even if she was around fifteen years older. Certainly she was the one Sophia had chosen to put in the dress that erotically showed off her body, not Elsabet.

"Thank you, Colonel," she replied without warmth.

Night fell as the coach rolled on through the growing darkness. Now Olivia couldn't even see their escort, although she could hear the pounding of their hooves alongside them. They had to be quite far from the capital, but in which direction and through what part of the kingdom she couldn't tell. Or were they even still in Darharrow? The only clue she had to their location was the lack of lit windows or torches outside, meaning that they were passing through countryside and not villages or towns.

It was two hours past midnight when the coach began to slow, then climb a steep grade. Clearly it was navigating a steep path up a hill or mountainside. Dimly, Olivia saw them pass through a crumbling gate, and then the sound of the horses' hooves changed to the sharper clip-clop of horseshoes on cobblestones. They continued going up for a while, then passed through another gate, evened out, and went through a small, dark tunnel, emerging into a courtyard lit by flickering torches.

The coach pulled to a halt, and a black-clad soldier opened the door for them. As she awkwardly dismounted, Olivia took a good look around. What she saw surprised and unnerved her; they were in the central courtyard of a long-ruined castle, the walls holding large breaches in places and the central keep merely a pile of collapsed stone. There were signs that it hadn't been completely abandoned, though. A pile of lumber was stacked against one wall, and someone had cut a new cornerstone for the keep, currently resting in the center of the courtyard like a sacrificial altar. The thought made her shudder.

She pulled the black cloak more tightly about herself, both because of the night chill and the half-dozen soldiers standing guard around the yard. The torches cast only a ruddy, flickering light, but there was a full moon, and it shone down with a pale radiance. "Where are we?" she asked Sophia. "I thought you said we were going to a diplomatic affair."

"The ruins of Castle Aurochs, on the Ergalreik border," Sophia replied. "And we are."

"Y-Your majesty!" Olivia said with alarm. "Is this safe?"

"Yes. The castle is ringed by my men. And the Royal Army is out in force along the border itself, as an 'exercise'." Sophia patted her shoulder. "You're quite safe here."

The Queen shivered. "I hope you don't plan to stay here all night."

"Hardly." Sophia glanced over to Colonel Elsabet, who had been speaking with a soldier and was now returning. "Is everything in readiness? No unexpected wrinkles?"

"None, your majesty." The Favorite bowed. "We may proceed at your word."

"Good. Bring out our guests."

The Colonel gave a gesture, and one of the guards departed into an outbuilding, one of the few towers that was still mostly standing. He emerged a second later, and behind him...

Olivia audibly gasped. From the tower door came two drocken, each bearing fetish-topped staves. Behind them came a stooped minotaur with broken horns, leading a human on a chain leash. And finally, a massive, powerful minotaur strode out, looking around with a keen intelligence and an air of disdain.

Sophia stepped forwards. "Hail, Moruf, Chief of Ten Thousand. The time for agreement has come."

The minotaur took several steps forward. "Hail, Sophia, King of Darharrow. You have managed to obtain the terms required?" His voice was deep and not quite human.

"Yes." Sophia smiled thinly. "I shall be able to prevent the crusade from launching anything but small raids into Ergalreik."

With a low rumbling noise, the minotaur eyed her suspiciously. "HOW small?"

"A dozen or so riders. Nothing that would do you any real damage. Just enough to remind you they're still there." Sophia chuckled. "And you have obtained the terms that I require?"

"Yes. We will keep the drocken on our side of the border. As much as we can." The big minotaur gave a deep, braying laugh. "A band or two will probably try their luck now and then against a border settlement. There is nothing that can be done about that. They are savages and cannot be fully controlled."

"Good. Then it is agreed?"

"We had one more requirement," the minotaur Chief reminded her. "To seal this... alliance."

"It could ruin this," Sophia said neutrally. "My people will wish vengeance."

"They will have it. I have a clansman who has proven troublesome to me. He and a suitable amount of drocken will be on the border in a week's time. I will send word of when and where. Send a warband with a competent leader and kill him." The minotaur snorted. "But I must have this guarantee. It is the only way the other Chiefs of Ten Thousand will take our agreement seriously."

Sophia nodded. "Very well." She turned. "Queen Olivia. Step forwards."

Frightened, the Queen instead shrank back. "Y-Your majesty, I-"

"Step. Forwards." Quailing under her daughter's icy stare, Olivia composed herself as best she could and took several hesitant steps towards the center of the courtyard. As she went, hands snatched the cloak from her shoulders, and she came to an abrupt stop, shivering in her white dress.

The minotaur Chief studied her, and she gazed back with wide, nervous eyes. He was huge; at least seven feet tall, likely more like eight. He was covered in short brown hair with the exception of his muscular stomach and abdomen, and his limbs were broad and extremely powerful, moreso than Egrid's had been. His eyes were bloodshot and piercing, his horns bone white and appearing razor sharp at the tips, and an iron ring hung from his bull-like nose. He wore only a short leather loincloth, and his small, tufted tail emerged just over the top of it.

His stare moved from her face to her chest to her hips, appraisingly, and she flushed uncomfortably, mindful of her scandalous garments. Finally he grunted. "She'll do."

Do? Do for WHAT? Increasingly frightened, she looked back at Sophia, who walked forwards and put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Do as you're told, Mother," the King said sternly. "Go and stand next to him, side by side."

"I... but... yes. All right." Unhappily, she walked forward until she stood beside the minotaur Chief. The older, stooped minotaur now came forwards, leading his leashed human. Olivia looked at the captive for the first time; he was a man, of uncertain age, totally naked. His scarred body was crudely tattooed with minotaur sigils and script, and all his hair had been shaved away. His eyes were haunted, distant.

With a shock, Olivia realized she knew him; it was Prince Larus, third son of the former King of Ergalreik. She had met him at several formal affairs, hosted and been hosted by him, even danced with him on several occasions. He had been a very courtly, charming man, and quite pleasant.

There was nothing courtly or charming about him now; he looked like a savage or cannibal. He and his leash-holder came to stand in front of the Queen and the Chief, and the stooped minotaur elder began to declaim some long speech in a bestial tongue Olivia couldn't understand. She simply stood there with increasing unease as the Chief listened impassively.

The prince was staring at her, she suddenly noticed. His gaze moved from her legs, to her breasts, to the outline of her bush under the gauze fabric. His penis, dangling exposed between his legs, started to stiffen and grow. Horrified, Olivia tried not to watch, but her gaze kept sneaking back to it.

Finally the stooped elder ground to a halt, and with a cuff to the head, shoved an object into the prince's hands. Stoically, he ignored the blow and walked forward to the apprehensive Queen. Coming close, his empty eyes studying her with leashed hunger, he handed her the object; a broad iron ring, covered with small metal studs. "Take this."

She took it, confused and unspeaking. The elder spoke again, and Larus translated his words. "Olivia, Queen of Darharrow, do you accept this Chief as your mate?"

Olivia stared back at him, mouth gaping wide with horror as everything fell into place. The white dress with its veil was a bridal gown, or at least an erotic parody of one. And now she was standing before the altar...

Turning, she stared beseechingly at Sophia. Her daughter just gazed back impassively, radiating impatience. Everyone here was staring at her, she realized, waiting for her reply.

The Queen swallowed. A final protest started to rise, then collapsed unspoken, cowed by the sheer force of those stares. "I... I do," she said, voice soft with despair.

Turning, the minotaur Chief faced her. With one swift move he tugged away his loincloth, revealing his massive penis, erect and jutting. Olivia stared at it as if hypnotized; it was bigger than any human's, long, brown, and covered at the base with downy brown fuzz. The head was almost flat, like that of a horse, with a small hole under a rounded tip. The scrotum was dark and compact.

"Place the ring upon his member," the prince translated.

Gingerly, doing her best not to show her distaste, she stepped forward. Licking her lips nervously, she carefully slid the iron cockring over the head of his jutting rod. Her trembling hands slid it down the veined shaft, until it stopped amidst the soft, short fur just above his balls.

The hunched elder spoke again, and the fallen prince translated. "Moruf, Chief of Ten Thousand, son of Morgru, do you take this woman to be the fourth of your mates?"

The Chief rumbled an affirmative, then took from the elder a dull iron ring, carved with fearful runes. He approached Olivia, who shrank back, and reached down to grab her wrist. Raising her hand up, he took the band and slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

The metal band blazed a dull red, and Olivia felt a sudden pain in her finger. She stifled a cry, and clutched at her shaking hand, unsure of what was happening. As she watched, the iron seemed to melt into the skin of her finger, merging with it, until finally the glow died away. Disbelievingly, she flexed the digit; the iron band seemed to flex with it, as if it was a part of her skin... which to all appearances it was, since she could now find no seam or crack separating the two, just a sudden difference in color and texture.

Rapping his staff on the cracked stones, the elder spoke again. Prince Larus once more translated. "I now pronounce you wed. May this joining be blessed by the ancestors, may it strengthen our people. You may now breed her without sin in the eyes of the gods."

The minotaur Chief snorted in satisfaction, then pointed to the new cornerstone, sitting in the middle of the courtyard like a great table. "Take her there. Ready her."

Settiing their staves down, the two drocken advanced on the Queen and seized her arms. As she struggled, terrified, they started to drag her to the stone. "Wait!" she cried, panic flooding her. "What are you doing?!? No!"

They ignored her, and flung her down on her back atop the stone, legs dangling over the side. Yelping in pain, she tried to get up, only to be pushed back down. "Stop! Sophia, please!"

With an irritated rumble, the minotaur Chief walked over to stand in front of her. "Listen well. You are the fourth of my wives, and although we shall know each other only briefly, you will obey. I sacrificed two hundred drocken with my own knife to fuel this rite, and if you spoil it, you shall be punished in ways you cannot comprehend. Lie still for now. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Olivia whispered, terrified.

"Good." He nodded to the drocken. "Begin."

With bleating cries, the two goatmen tugged up the gauzy skirt of the Queen's bridal gown, fully exposing her stockinged legs, her curly black bush, and her bare belly. Laying their hairy hands on her, one got out a bowl of some reddish substance. As they both began a guttural chant, he began to daub an intricate pattern on her stomach.

The Queen tried to force herself to lay still, face twisting with fear, disgust, and effort. She tried not to think about what this could be for. Surely it was just ceremonial. They weren't going to take her away with them, were they? Surely Sophie wouldn't let them?

Rough, clawed fingers traced designs on her abdomen, and she shivered. Unlike the minotaur, the goatmen hadn't even bothered with a loincloth, and she could see they were both erect. The only thing stopping both of them from taking her right here, she knew, was the minotaur. She could feel Larus' eyes on her as well, watching her with a gaze that made her feel unclean.

Finally they stopped, and stepped away. The pattern on her belly seemed to almost burn; some sort of magic had clearly been worked.

Now the Chief stepped forwards. "You are part of my clan now, so you bear my clan name. From now on you are Olivia Elfeater. You should be honored, for the name of Elfeater is known and feared in the north. Fully sixteen Chiefs of Ten Thousand bear it."

She simply nodded, the idea seeming both unreal and all too real. How would Tesaiel have reacted if she had introduced herself to her as 'Olivia Elfeater'? Probably poorly.

"You are not talkative, I see. Good. Talk is not relevant to the job at hand." Bending over her, he reached out, took a fistful of the front of her dress, and tore. Olivia bit back a scream as he methodically ripped the white fabric away, leaving her sprawled on the stone slab in only her stockings, belt, and white cap and veil.

"I... but..." she stammered.

"Spread your legs."

She looked pleadingly at Sophia, who simply watched impassively. Swallowing, the Queen cast her eyes down and then, with flushed cheeks, hesitantly opened her thighs for him.

"Good." He bent for a second, examining her slit through the tangle of black hair, and then made a satisfied noise. Standing, he took his massive cock and put the tip of it against the folds of her petals.

Olivia's heart pounded. "It won't fit," she softly pleaded, trembling. "It won't work."

"We shall see," her new husband told her. And then, the minotaur slowly pushed himself into her.

Olivia threw back her head and screamed as the beast's rod impaled her. She had given birth to two children and was almost forty years old, and her vagina had gained a certain flexibility. She was no longer as tight as the young virgin she had been when she was wed to King Grevis years ago. The organ forcing its way into her pussy was still too big for her to handle in anything resembling comfort. She tried to rise, head and shoulders bucking upwards off the slab in a frenzy, only to have the minotaur's big hands shove her back down.

She felt the flat tip of his cock hit her cervix. He still wasn't buried to the root in her; she could see through tears of pain that the lower third of his shaft was still outside of her labia, including the cockring that had served as her wedding band to him. As she watched, he slowly pulled more of his length out of her, the veiny rod shining with moisture and blood. Then he pushed it back into her, making her howl.

The bull-man between her legs repeated withdrawing and thrusting; in and out, in and out. Olivia, sobbed and clawed at the stone and tried to keep from screaming. The delay between thrusts got shorter and shorter, and soon she was gasping for breath as he grunted rhythmically, his hooves clattering as he pawed at the ground.

Despite the pain racking her, the threshing of her hole had provided a certain amount of stimulation, and with it came lubrication. Her cunt moistened around the invader, lessening the physical discomfort. She had never had so much man-meat packed into her slick hole, and her pussy strained to contain it even as she clenched down on the pumping length violating her.

The minotaur leaned forward over his bride, bringing his muzzle down to her heaving breasts. She panted, sending the lush globes jiggling and quivering. His long red tongue lapped out to taste and lick them, dripping warm saliva on her crimson-capped globes. She tossed her head, whimpering in denial as she was fucked by her beast-man groom, ravished and used from stiff, moist nipple to swollen pussy.

"Oh gods, no!" she gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Please, no!" There was no response, and she turned her head away.

She saw the fallen prince, crouching by his master's feet, watching her, steadily jerking off. Her head turned the other way, and she saw Sophia and Colonel Elsabet standing side by side, gazing at her. The Favorite's hand was in Sophia's pants, and Sophia's own hand was fondling one of the Colonel's breasts.

A series of loud, whinnying snorts from the creature atop her drew her gaze back to him; he was bearing down, increasing speed. She shrieked as he grabbed her hips, straightened, and pulled her ass up with him. Her head and shoulders now lay on the stone, her full ass and lower back were up in the air, and her strained, swollen pussy pointed twoard the Chief as he thrust into her. Olivia threw her head back and wailed as he took her with savagery. His grunts and snorts grew louder and louder. It sounded like an enraged bull was atop her.

Then, with a deep roar, he stopped. Hot, sticky warmth flooded the Queen's insides, and she gave a defeated, despairing wail as his seed filled her. It spurted over and over, filling her swollen tunnel, through her cervix, and into her waiting womb.

And then Olivia stiffened in shock as the design on her stomach glowed red. She could somehow FEEL an army of sperm within her, small, wriggling, eager, all flowing in her womb. They reached an egg, and pushed at the walls... pushed...

"No," she whispered, horrified. "No... impossible!"

The minotaur sperm beat against the smooth surface, hundreds of them, and somehow she could feel every futile thump. Her breath caught, as for several heartbeats the siege continued. And then, with a mighty surge, a single sperm pushed its way through the wall and dove into the heart of the egg.

The design on her stomach flared and burned away. She felt the sperm merge triumphantly with the egg, and then felt the new cell divide into two, then four...

"NOOOOOOOO!" she screamed, still impaled on her minotaur groom's cock. "No... no...."

As she sobbed in denial and horror, the minotaur lowered her fully to the slab and pulled his slickened member free of her. A tide of semen tinged with blood poured forth to puddle on the cold stone. A few final spurts spit from the bestial cock to spatter her belly. Then he wiped his cock on her white stockings and turned to face Sophia. "It is done. You can expect the child in a month."

"So soon?" The King sounded surprised. "Usually it's nine months."

"Minotaurs do things in a hurry." The Chief of Ten Thousand sounded amused. "He'll be an adult in body and mind in around a year. He will be treated as family?"

"It won't be easy, but yes. I'll make him a baron or something." Sophia nodded to him. "So now we are bound by ties of blood."

"Yes." He turned. "We are done here." Without another glance, he walked out of the torchlight and into the darkness. The stooped shaman, drocken ritualists, and the chained prince followed him, the latter still jerking at his cock and glancing back at the stone.

The impregnated Queen lay sprawled on the slab, chest heaving. Her belly and crotch were sticky with the cum of the man-bull. Tears ran down her cheeks as she rubbed her belly, aware of the new life quickening inside her.

Sophia walked over and unceremoniously pulled her to her feet. "Lean on me, Mother."

Olivia did. She had no choice; her legs felt boneless and her knees were weak. Naked except for her semen-smeared lingerie, she limped across the courtyard under the eyes of every watching soldier. Warm rivulets dripped down the inside of her thighs, a mixture of her blood and nectar and his cum, leaving small puddles behind her as she went. Her face burned with humiliation.

When she reached the coach, she found she couldn't quite climb into it. Moving behind her, Sophia placed both hands on the pale moons of her ass and pushed, boosting her up. One thumb slipped between her crack as she did, brushing along the bottom of her messy slit, and then the Queen was tumbling forward into the coach compartment. She landed sprawled on one padded bench, lying on her stomach. She tried to get up, but found her limbs without strength.

Sophia and Elsabet slid in, closing the door and taking a seat on the bench opposite her. Smirking, the King pointed to her mother's smooth rear, spread just enough for the anus to be visible. "Do you not admire that, Colonel?"

"Good enough to service a bull," the Favorite replied. "I prefer the daughter."

"Of course you do." Winking, Sophia tugged down her own breeches as the coach began to move. "Use your cunning tongue, you scheming bitch. Do a good job, and I'll be gentle tonight."

"As my King commands," Elsabet said throatily, bending her mouth to her royal pussy.

Olivia lay on the bench in dull misery as the sounds of passion filled the small compartment. A bump in the road sent half of her sprawling off, and the remainder of the trip was spent with her lewdly exposed, cum stuffed, freshly-plowed snatch pointed at her daughter and their lover.

---

With a groan, Queen Olivia waddled into her rooms and shut the door. Her back hurt, and her swollen belly made her steps awkward and slow. Walking over to a padded chair, she collapsed into it and closed her eyes.

It had been about three weeks since her 'wedding'. Gravely, Sophia had gone before the court and informed them that while travelling to make an inspection of soldiers stationed at the border, the Queen's coach had been ambushed and the Queen repeatedly raped by the minotaur leader and his men. The first reaction had been deep outrage, combined with outpourings of sympathy. A vengeful band under the leadership of Sir Cargyl had ridden out, and returned bearing a minotaur head... undoubtedly, the King proclaimed, the one responsible for the deed.

As the days had passed, however, and the Queen's pregnancy became apparent, the sympathy began to curdle into a rancid mixture of pity and contempt. Olivia could hardly bear to show herself in court any more; her bulging belly made it clear to what uses she had been put, and more and more everyone there seemed to define her solely by that act. She'd heard the whispered phrase 'bull's slattern' once, dimly, and seen the same phrase reflected in many eyes. Whatever influence she'd possessed was gone, now.

The first columns of crusaders were arriving in Darharrow, and the people were welcoming them rather more enthusiastically than they would have weeks before. Sophia had traveled in daylight with much of the court to dedicate the laying of the cornerstone of the new, rebuilt Castle Aurochs, and Olivia had watched numbly as the citadel that was to shield the kingdom from the drocken threat was built upon the slab where a leader of that threat had raped and impregnated her.

The truth about what had really happened would probably never come out. All of the mercenary soldiers who had laid eyes on her that night had been quietly poisoned the next morning at breakfast by Colonel Elsabet. Olivia couldn't say she was sorry about that.

The baby kicked, and she winced in pain. Her son would not be a halfbreed; she knew it would be a son because there were no female minotaurs. Creations of magic, they bred only with female humanoids of other species, and the offspring was always a full-blooded minotaur. Even in the womb he was bigger than her other children had been, and his thrashing could hurt. She didn't want to think about what birthing him would be like.

"Hush," she murmured tiredly, placing a hand on her stomach. "Please, just hush."

The door opened, and her head jerked up. Sophia entered, clad in a blue riding costume, and shut the door behind her. "Any hint of contractions?"

"No." Olivia looked away. "I think I have a few more days. This would be around the eight month mark, I think."

"Good. The sooner you give birth, the sooner I can start legitimizing him. That won't be easy." Sophia sounded irritated. "I'm going to have to spend political capital."

"How dreadful for you." The Queen's voice was bitter.

With a chuckle, Sophia wagged a finger at her. "Yes, I know, you have the difficult part at the moment. But you're so well suited to it." She studied Olivia, then smiled. "Why don't you get up and take that dress off, Queen Olivia."

"I'd rather not," Olivia replied, still looking away.

"Oh? Not as eager to serve your King as you were?"

"I'm a married woman now," she replied shortly. "That was your idea, remember?"

"Ah, but the droit du seigneur is the traditional right of kings," Sophia said lightly. Then her voice hardened. "Stand up and take it off."

Taking a deep breath, Olivia slowly stood and unbuttoned her embroidered maternity gown. "I thought you were done with me. Has your horse-faced licktaint gone missing?"

"She is rather horse-faced, isn't she?" Sophia agreed. "Younger, though. And more exciting. But not as beautiful as you." Her eyes drank in the Queen's pregnant curves. "Father used to call you 'the old hag' in private. Did you know that?"

"No." Despite herself, tears started to come to Olivia's eyes. She had known Grevis had never loved her, had known that after age thirty or so he had sought younger women, but she'd thought he'd at least viewed her as a suitable wife. To hear what he'd really thought, and like this...

"Get on your hands and knees on the rug."

Slowly, eyes still wet, Olivia lowered herself down. Her gravid, swollen belly hung under her, making her back ache; her breasts, large and engorged with milk, dangled like udders. Her long black hair spilled down to hang around her shoulders as she squatted on the bearskin rug.

Sophia pulled down her breeches, then took out a familiar bottle and applied some of the elixir to her clitoris. The usual noises of pain ensued, and then the King walked behind the waiting Queen. "Open your legs more, Queen Olivia."

Wordlessly, the Queen complied, moving her knees farther apart, wincing as it gave her gravid belly less support. It almost hung down to the floor, now, and the top of the bearskin's fur brushed against her belly button. She was presenting now, and despite all that had happened, she was moist. A small trickle of her slickness ran from her nether lips to dampen her ebon cunt-curls.

"Good girl," Sophia said, and then took her by the hips and slid into her.

They fucked doggystyle, Sophia grunting as she humped the pregnant Queen, Olivia making muffled moans. Her milk-laden flesh jugs swayed back and forth as she was serviced, the tips aching. Beneath her, her swollen belly bounced, jiggling with each forceful thrust into her dripping cunt.

"Grevis was an idiot," Sophia breathed in her ear. "You're not a hag. You're a brood cow. A desirable, lovely, fuckable brood cow. Just like you were going to make me, you and Father. But instead, the reverse is true."

"I thought it was for the best," Olivia gasped, voice shaking. "I just wanted what was best."

"This is best, Queen Olivia." Sophia reached down to stimulate the Queen's clit with her hand, even as the King's own magically enlarged one slipped in and out of her swollen snatch. "You're always at your best sexually when you're pregnant. Did you enjoy being a minotaur's breeding wife?"

Olivia simply moaned, shame and arousal and sheer sexual sensation stealing her voice.

"Was he better than whoring yourself to an orcish mercenary?" Sophia laughed humorlessly as Olivia jerked her head around in shock. "Oh yes, I know about that. And about your halfling catamite. You're a whore, Olivia Elfeater. I forgive you, though. I'm going to need a whore. My new brother is going to need a woman in about a year."

"No!" Olivia gasped, breathing ragged. "I can't! Not with... with..." Her voice trailed off into a long, lustful cry as Sophia tweaked her clit, humping the slit that had birthed her with increasing urgency.

"I'll tell you what," Sophia replied, voice hungry. "If you don't orgasm in the next two minutes, you won't have to fuck him."

Swallowing, Olivia tried to push the building warmth away. Surely the shame, horror, and fear she felt were stronger than the hot rod of her daughter's clitcock in her, pumping in and out of her sopping pussy, pleasuring her as she had so often been pleasured before...

"No... no..." she panted, trying to push the physical responses away. Her eyes rose, and she saw herself in her dressing mirror: kneeling on hands and knees, her own daughter mounting her, mouth half open with lust as her swollen belly jiggled with each thrust and her full breasts swung like pendulums under the relentless fucking of her dripping, clenching cunt...

Olivia climaxed hard, and her hips quivered violently. She sobbed as she did, despair and defeat mixing with the white hot pleasure as she shuddered over and over again, nectar flowing down her thighs. Pain bloomed in her abdomen as her future lover kicked inside her, disturbed by her climax.

"Looks like you're not done with minotaur cock after all," Sophia breathed. Her thrusts grew harder and faster, and as Olivia's own spasms died, her daughter erupted with orgasm. The King's cries were muted, intense, and she shook as she drenched her mother's raised ass with her cum. Afterwards, she stroked Olivia's back. "Oh gods. The best part of getting rid of Grevis. That was good."

Olivia said nothing, and Sophia bent and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mo- Queen Olivia. It'll be all right. You'll see." Straightening, she slid out of the Queen's swollen hole and patted her on the ass. "I won't neglect you. You'll just have to share me with my brother." Her voice grew soft. "I won't abandon you like Father did, even if you did betray me. This way is best."

"Y-Yes, Lord Sophia," Olivia whispered brokenly.

"I'll check in on you later," Sophia said. Pulling up her breeches, she turned and left.

Olivia gingerly stood, and stumbled naked to her writing desk. Sophia's words kept swirling in her brain. The best part of getting rid of Grevis. Not having Grevis gone, getting rid.

Had Sophia... had Sophia been the one who hired Cymru, aka Flann Nightsteel? She certainly had motive. Maybe she hadn't anticipated that the dwarf would take her as one of the hostages. Or maybe she had. Maybe everything that had happened had been according to her instructions.

Olivia hugged herself, then looked at the blank sheet of paper on the desk. She had played with this idea over the last three weeks, but always shied away. Now, though...

If she did this nothing might happen. But if something did, there would be no going back.

Olivia hesitated, then set her jaw. Avila had been right. She needed to find some backbone, and if not now, then never.

With a shaking hand, she picked up the pen and began to write.

Dear Cymru,

You told me on our parting that you would return to claim what is yours. The time has come for that to happen. I will be waiting for you, a small bag packed, along with sufficient valuables for you to pay any expenses involved. Take caution, as the King will not allow you to set foot in Darharrow if she learns of you. But I know you are skillful and bold, and will not let guard, lock, or wall stand between you and that which you desire.

I yearn for the moment of our reunion.

Your own,
Olivia

To Be Continued...

---