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Sit the throne sample
🕑 Added 2022-12-16 10:50:27 +0000 UTC
The chill wind blew harshly through the dense woods that formed the western border of Bolnaria. Beyond it, somewhere through the dense forests rarely disturbed wild growths lay his goal. Prince Godrick, second-born son of King Gordrian of Bolnaria and, after the unfortunate accident suffered by his elder brother, heir apparent to the throne, pulled his coat in tighter to stave off the bitter damp air.
This was the third day in his search for the illusive Blackwood Witch, the heretic mystic who legend said could grant any wish to one who paid her fee. Not that the expense would be any object for one of his position; any price could be easily attained and the prize he sought was well worth it. In the witch's possession was said to be the seal of office gifted to his great-grandfather and supposedly used as payment for his throne. Were that to be returned, no challenger could supplant his rule, even with his bastard heritage.
"My lord." One of the attendants draws Godrick’s attention, a harsh-faced man who grew up in these backwards lands and a skilled guide "Can you smell that? There is something old here. I think we draw close"
Godric sniff the air and sure enough, there is a dull, spicy scent that makes your nose tingle lurking just beneath the smell of moss and soil. Following it leads him to an isolated spring, and on the far shore of the pool, a tiny wooden cottage that seems somehow difficult to keep looking at.
The attendants were fearful, shifting nervously in the wind, huddling closer together. Gullible fools, the Prince thought bitterly. Even the whisper of witchcraft was enough to unsettle them. But the Blackwood Witch has as much allegiance to the throne as any citizen of the kingdom. She wouldn't dare harm him.
"Forwards", he ordered, stepping carefully through the mudly shore of the fool. Reluctantly, they followed
There was an odd stillness in the air around the crystal clear pool. Even the harsh footfalls of the group's boots did little to mar the pure waters. As they approached the cottage, Godrick could see a thin trail of smoke coming from the chimney and a dim light from within the curtained windows; someone was home. If this was the domain of the witch, she would obey him. If not, then the search continued and the resident would provide whatever aid he demanded.
"S-Sir," A different attendant, little more than a page spoke up "There is nobody here. Surely it is abandoned"
Godrick glared at the youth impatiently, when he had to look back. For just a moment, the cottage was not cottage but a derelict ruin, overgrown and crumbling. When he shook his head and refocused his efforts, it was back as it should be, but this encouraged him. Some sorcery was masking the place, which meant he had finally found her.
Godrick peered against through the window but saw only darkness now. Not the dimness of a ruined hut but true darkness. An effect of the enchantment no doubt. The witch must know she had visitors. Remarkable- her powers were as powerful as the rumours has whispered. No hedge sorcerer or conjurer here. Even the scent of magic- faint but unmistakable, flavoured the air. Well, if she knew she had guests, he should introduce himself. Stepping up to the doorway, against blinking away the curious haze of seeing both ordinary wood and rotted ruin, he knocked firmly and stood back, arms folded across his chest, attendant hanging back.
The sound seems deafening in the eerie silence, but there is no reply. In irritation, he knocks again still to no response. Out of the corner of his eye, however, there is a slight movement from a window. A curtain flutters as it falls back into position; someone is watching from within.
The idea of breaking down the door comes to mind, but it interrupted when it slowly creaks open and reveals a short, pale young woman who eyes the entourage nervously.
"Y-Yes?" She stammers, her gaze flicking between the men at her door and back inside "C-Can I help you?"
Godrick admired the girl- a timid little beauty, pale, hair like apricot.
"Girl, I'm here to see your mistress, the witch. Don't deny this is her house. I see through the enchantments. She has nothing to fear from me. Tell her Prince Godrick has come to call upon her."
The girl made a little gasp, eyes flickering up to his face, returning meekly down.
"At once sir, please, enter. But..."
Here she swallowed, blush rising to her cheeks, "You must enter alone."
He waved off the protests of his attendants. Prince Godrick wasn't scared by some crone. The girl stepped aside for him to enter, the door closing beneath, bringing sudden silence. He turned to see the girl smirking at him.
"Not too bright, are you, to be taken in by the humble serving girl act. I didn't even need to use magic. Typical man."
The moment Godrick stepped inside the house, the girl's entire demeanor changed. All the fear and nervous tension melted away like a mash to be replaced with the calm ease of someone who truly saw themselves as being in control. Even her appearance altered, becoming that of an older woman bearing a more mature sort of beauty.
"So tell me, little princeling. What foolish desire has brought you here to the domain of a heretic witch? A curse upon a rival? A poison for your noble father? Or perhaps..." Her fingers flick and she is suddenly holding a tarnished silver seal engraved with script of the old tongue, now reserved only for holy relics. "You've come to finish your ancestor's betrayal?" She spits the word like a barb.
Outside, he could hear his men yell in agitation and the sound of banging upon the door, desperate and hurried.
While his hand had automatically settled on the pommel of his sword, years of military training had taught him calm. He managed a smile.
"The witch of Blackwood I presume? I can't say I follow. My ancestor never betrayed you. I age simply come to reclaim what is rightfully mind."
The witch smiled thinly and with another snap of her fingers, the sounds of his men were silenced.
"You're a bold one, I shall grant you that."
She brushed past him, the hiss of her dress releasing the scent of old roses, dust and wood smoke. He followed, eyes naturally drawn downward to the plump swell of her bottom moving beneath her green silk dress. He'd never bedded a witch but who knew, perhaps a lonely woman could be enticed. She had had cold ageless kind of beauty, clear and sharp as crystal. It made a nice change to the simpering of ladies of the court.But first, the seal...
"No, I suppose that part of history would go untold, wouldn't it? No matter, he is long dead and gone." She holds the seal between her fingers, tantalisingly close "You came for this, yes? No doubt to secure the throne for yourself. So very much like him. I will part with it, but you'll have to offer me something in return. What you offer will be the measure of your merit, but spare me the bribes of gold and jewels; I have no need for such things." She steps closer, her face nearly pressing against Godrick's own. He could smell her scent; sweet and dangerous, like honey laced with poison. The smell makes his head swim and he finds himself looking down the chasm of her generous breasts, scarcely contained in her casually half-opened dress. "So, what will the fine young princeling offer?"
"I can pay whatever you desire," he said, drawing his eye back to her face, "Gold, land. Whatever you desire."
She smirked at that, her lips curling into what was almost a pout. It stirred something in Godrick- they were a deep red- either by spell or application he didn't know or care. He just wanted to feel their softness on his. Whether she was coated with glamours or just her bold attitude, he didn't know.
"Oh little princling, surely you can do better than that..."
"How about...Myself?"
If his offer surprised her, she did it well, merely raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. It came out in a rush- like a virgin's first confession.
"I know your magic can draw power from the bodies of the worshipped. As Prince, I posses the power of thousands of citizens."
She shook her head, sending her golden hair rustling.
"You offer blood?"
"Well, there are other bodily fluids with more... entertaining ways to extract..."
"Hmmm...Royal Essence, freely given. Such things have power." She considers it for a moment "Very well; power and the lives of the men outside. Those shall be my price."
The lives of his men meant little to Godrick, common folk as they were. Only one was even particularly known to him and he could always get a new page. The young sons of petty nobles were always on offer to the royal house as their fathers used them as token to barter any royal favour they could get. This one, Elliot, he thought, had been skilled at cooking and cleaning, but was a lost cause in terms of spine, so he wouldn't be much of a loss.
"I gladly accept your terms, dear lady" He said with a courteous bow, pulling out the charm that had young noblewomen swooning at his every word, "For this night, I am yours."
The witch shakes her head and beckons him to follow to her chambers. She room was a simple one, fashioned with old, sturdy furniture that likely dated back as old the the house itself. Inside, Godrick was eager to watch as the witch casually removed her dress, letting her naked form shine in the dim lamplight. Flawlessly smooth skin over generous curves graced his vision as she looked over her generous chest, standing proud with not a hit of sag and a round, firm bottom sinfully complementing the sway of her wide hips.
"Well, little princeling? I'm waiting."
She bent a little, displaying those smooth perfect cheeks, the barest glimpse of her womanhood, hidden in shadow before she turned, sitting herself on the bed.Godrick grinned, struggling to unlace his britches and jerkin, made desperate with frustration. The witch watched him struggle, enjoying his obvious desire and the struggle to undress. As though in invitation she spread her legs and reveal her nethers nestled between her thighs, drawing his gaze down with a seductive caress of her luminous skin. Such a sight. Neat pink flesh, slightly open like a newly flowering orcid, shaved smooth like the Aesilli tribes.
"You want this, don't you?" She crooned softly, "I want you too. Come, princeling. Claim me like a king."
They say that the true measure of a monarch is in that which he claims in conquest. And here, now, in this moment, Prince Godrick can think of no greater prize. The Blackwood Witch herself, all his for the taking. Mind fogged in a mixture of lust and the strange, ethereal smell of the witch's domain yet body acutely lucid and ready. As quickly as his traitorous garments would allow, Godrick cast aside his sword and revealed his true armament, proud and erect.
Closing in on his prize, Godrick readied himself for glory, yet the witch denied him.
"Don't rush" she croons "This is an act of significance."
She reaches forwards and pulls Godrick into a deep kiss. The heat of her body seeps into his being, driving him to new heights almost as such as the witch's gasps as he eagerly returns the gesture. His hands bring themselves to her breasts, caressing their perfection and in doing so, causes a sense of reciprocal feedback in himself. Somehow, every jolt of pleasure he brings the witch is being reflected upon him.
Witchcraft no doubt but if so a welcome kind, a wonderful kind for every touch on her smooth pale skin made his own flesh shiver, each kiss and caress returned to him. She smiled up at her, cheeks flushed a little, spreading like spilled in down next week bosom, colouring the skin pink. His hardness ached, near painful but so powerful he gasped. She ground her body against his- a little warmth, wetness and they both hitched their breath at the feeling. And yet, when he made to thrust forward she pulled back a little, driving him into a tighter knot of desire. Laughing at her taunt he leant down, taking one of her erected nipples between his teeth, biting every so gently, feeling the warm rush of it from his own muscled chest, an arc of pleasure cracking like lightning down.to his desperate crotch.
She was taunting him. He could tell. To her, she wasn't giving herself to him, but taking him for her own. As far as she was concerned, all of this was on her terms, not his. To the prince, one who's every whim was to be obeyed, this was a strange mix of novelty and insult. On the one hand, he'd never been denied like this before and it infuriated him, but on the other he could see the sweet victory of taking what was his and asserting his will upon the most feared woman in the land.
He raised his efforts, using his superior weight and size to push her down onto the bed. The witch gasped in surprise as he let his member press against her folds, but he didn't enter her, not yet. He could feel the burning heat of her loins against his tip, slick and hungry but instead he held back.
"Tell me you want it" He taunted her, "Tell me you want me in you."
Her breaths were ragged as she fumbled for the words, her pride resisting her.
"I-" She looked away in shame "I want you; all of you. I want you to be inside me and never leave."
She was ready. All the power here was now in Godrick's hands and as he plunged into her depths, he took his rightful place...
The rest is here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/75907289?pr=true
