The plains of North Magmalia were famous across the whole of Alaiah for their beauty and splendor. The vegetation was rich and diverse, full of all sorts of life. The blue bells of the rodolithium bushes were swinging, gently caressed by the wind and gifted him their fragrance, which he happily spread around. Heavy lianas descended from the b’ruankh’ai trees, and up in their crowns some jayas were chasing each other - some young, some large, but all hungry for the beautiful succulent fruits hanging from the branches.
Heavenly spots such as this one could be found almost anywhere across the northern part of the fire-earth country. But this one was quite unique in the region and was located around the Palace of Undying flame, deep within the heart of the capital - Tyrannia.
Princess Fekh felt her lips twist in a nasty little smile. At least for now Tyrannia was capital… But it would not be so for much longer. A day would come, by the Prophet’s blessing, for the Fire ladies to pay for their greed. All the lavish riches, all the glorious sights her neighbors to the North took for granted. All of it built through the blood and sweat and ceaseless exploitation of her people and her homeland of South Magmalia.
This Empire had risen to glory as all Empires do, Fekh supposed - through merciless ravaging, pillaging and privatization of resources from its own lands, or rather - its own colonies. All the mining for precious materials had turned the princess’ beloved country into a desolate wasteland with but a few ever-shrinking oases. Even the mighty bru’ankh’ai struggled to survive in South Magmalia and this had been the final straw for Fekh’s grandmother when she had declared war on Tyrannia some thirty-odd rotations ago.
Alas, the long hand of greed had extended beyond Magmalia’s borders all the way to the other side of the Ocean and those wretched wenches from AWA had interfered once their supplies of metaline, hydrofuel and bru’ankh’ai root had dried up. Thus, her people’s bid for freedom from tyranny had turned into a global conflict - the Last Great War. And to add insult to injury, South Magmalians were single-handedly blamed for the escalation and suffered even harsher penalties during the aftermath.
Now it was up to Fekh, as the future Regent over Land to restore the gravity-wielder tribes to their former glory. The first step in her plan lay before her eyes at this very moment.
For the darkest sorrow, hanging heavy on the Fire Empress’ heart was going to become the reason for the earth nation’s greatest triumph. All because the weak-willed, albeit stunning prince-consort of Magmalia had failed to gift his lady with the one thing which could have ensured the Fire tribe’s continued reign. From her clandestine marriage to the prince, which had ended with his tragic (supposed) suicide, she had but one son.
Which was the reason for Fekh’s glee. No matter how “contemporary” Tyrannis Pyre, current ruler of Magmalia, pretended to be, she would never leave the throne to a boy. Alaian tradition mandated that only a woman has the right to rule and even those pathetic henpecked women from AWA had decided to overthrow their absurd electoral scheme to make sure the previous Ruling over sea’s daughter would rise to power.
Her smile widened to expose her sharp canines. Yes, the natural landscape of northern Magmalia was truly spectacular. But there was something here, even more sublime. The Fire tribe boys were known far and wide for their irresistible beauty. Most of them were gifted with thick, long flowing blond hair with just a hint of copper in the sun - as though fiery waterfalls were descending from their scalps - playful, dancing flames. Their lips were full and red like ripe b’ruankh’ai fruits and their skin - white and smoother than the finest strill cloths, woven by the men in her homeland.
She made a few more steps toward the clearing near the lake - the crown jewel of the imperial court - and gestured for the Wardens who had come with her to stand and wait for her in the shadow of the trees. She wanted to behold her gorgeous gift from up close.
Indeed, the Fire tribe boys were one of Mother nature’s miracles in this place. Still, it went without saying that her greatest achievement was the prince himself. He was seated cross-legged on the grass and his long gold and white robes were spread around him like the rays of a brilliant star. His hair was glistening in the glow of the afternoon sun, like a flaming waterfall. His eyes - golden-brown and deep in thought were fixed on an e-reader. He was so taken by his reading, that he didn’t notice her approach, before she leaned above him.
It wasn’t until her shadow fell on him that he started a bit and lifted his head toward her. His pupils shrunk and his lower lip quivered slightly before he managed to compose himself and stood up quickly, placing his palm on his chest and gave her a deep bow. The princess felt a dark feeling of satisfaction wash over her - whatever Fye’s opinion of her might be, the impeccable manners of an imperial heir, hammered into his head by etiquette instructors and courtesans, prevailed. He was projecting the ideal combination of regality and submissiveness, appropriate for a meeting with his future lady.
“Your Highness!”, he exclaimed, head still facing the ground. “I was not informed of your arrival and I beg your pardon for the inappropriate appearance you find me in.”
Fekh reached out and placing two fingers under his chin, forced him to look at her. She then let her eyes shamelessly wander over his fine figure, hidden behind a robe which was obviously too big for him. It must have been his father’s, the princess noted internally. It had slipped from his shoulders a bit, thus exposing the perfect white skin of his neck and chest all the way to his midriff, where a large golden belt was holding it to his thin waist.
“There is nothing inappropriate about beauty, prince”, she let her voice slip half an octave and the hand, which was just beneath his chin went on to explore the gorgeous white skin of his chest.
Her lips twisted in a predatory smile as she felt him shiver slightly at her touch. Still, he did not attempt to shy away or flee. Apparently the prince had inherited his mother’s strong will and character. Splendid - Fekh would delight greatly in breaking his resolve. A good husband is supposed to be meek, quiet and humble, always eager to serve his lady, who protects him with the powers bestowed upon her by the Goddess. These ludicrous modern times they were living in were hell bent on destroying this sacred Balance. The henpecked women of AWA were ready to preach to anyone who’d listen that the Ancient Order was no longer relevant, that present-day men should have the same rights as the stronger sex. This babbling irritated her to no end - those weaklings were making it sound as though the social structure which had built and elevated the powerful civilization on Alaiah, is somehow wrong. Elitist, they called it, exclusive, sexist… They couldn’t understand that they were trying to abolish the natural order of things.
The Goddess’ merciless retort did not delay - the Gift of the wind storms had all but faded from their blood and if the rumours could be believed, a similar fate had befallen the young water ladies as well. Served them right for deciding to spit on the Sacred commandments of Alaiah. If they so insisted on having equality, they would get it by becoming weak and powerless themselves, like men.
Fekh returned to reality with a sigh. Everything had its time and place. The most important thing now was to ensure her handsome prize which was the prince himself had no illusions as to who would wear the bra within their future family.
The predatory smile found its way back to her lips and with the ease becoming of an earth warrior such as herself, she pushed the boy at the center of his chest. His eyes flew open as though they were about to pop out of his skull as the terrifying strength of her hit lifted him up and threw him a few feet back, where he fell rather ungracefully on his back. She followed with satisfaction his attempts to control his panic on one hand and on the other - to try and stand up. She let him crawl back a bit on his elbows before making a few steps toward him. As she crouched slightly, she touched the ground some several inches from his feet.
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The small roots of the b’ruankh’ai tree next to them, which were closest to the surface, slithered out of the earth like the tentacles of a prehistoric animal and wrapped themselves painfully tight around his ankles. He flailed his arms about like a madman, trying to sit up or just somehow reach the sprouts which were holding his legs captive, but in the meantime another, larger and thicker root had risen above ground and was already wrapping around his waist like a legless reptile-constrictor. The wild horror twisting his beautiful face gave her more pleasure than she would care to admit. Despite all this, the prince gathered as much of his strength as he possibly could and looked at her with all of the regal outrage he could muster:
“What do you think you are doing?”, he hissed venomously. “Let go of me at once!”
She threw her head back and let out a most unpleasant laugh before returning his gaze with a dangerous gleam in her black eyes:
“Or else what? What exactly will you do if I refuse, my gorgeous, fragile prince?”
A powerful blush blossomed on his pale cheeks and clenching his teeth, he turned his head to the side. Exactly, thought Fekh with a dark satisfaction. She lifted herself up slightly and slid forward on her elbows and knees until she was looming atop his restricted body. She took his hands before he could react and lifted them above his head, where another small root had protruded from the earth, waiting to wrap itself around his wrists. Fye opened his mouth, as if to attempt another protest, but instead, the only thing that came out was his stratled scream when he heard his robe tear beneath Fekh’s strong fingers. These same fingers now returned under his chin and forced his head to the side so he could look at her again:
“My apologies, Your Highness”, she whispered, so close to his face, that he could feel her breath on his cheeks. “But as your future wife I feel obligated to teach you one or two things about married life.”
His panic rose a bit more as he suddenly realised that in this moment, the only things standing between him and her was his underwear. Fekh knew this perfectly well, of coursse, for her other hand was already travelling down the smooth skin of his torso and didn’t look like it was meaning to stop before reaching its final destination.
“For you see, my prince, marriage is a Gift from the Goddess. A sacred union between a woman and her males in which everyone has their part to play.”, he barely managed to suppress his second startled cry when he felt her do away with the last barrier of fabric, keeping her from his naked body. “Our Mother has created women in such a way that we be strong, capable of caring for our families and protecting our husbands and children. For as hard as it seems for you to understand this now, when you are so young, Your sex is extremely fragile and weak and without us, you would not survive long. You think that by virtue of being an empress’ son you hold some power, but you will soon discover the truth is rather different. After all, you don’t even have control over your own body, isn’t that right?”, to enforce her argument, her hand wrapped around his most sensitive part and within a minute, his physiology betrayed him in perfect unison with her words.
She didn’t stop there, of course, but his brain seemed to be separated from reality by a semi-transparent veil. His eyes dimmed, his hearing faded, even his lungs stopped obeying him and he began fighting desperately for air, like a drowning man below water. At some point she had removed her own clothes, but this didn’t matter to him. The scary part came a moment later, when she sat onto him abruptly and he felt as though someone had poured boiling water on him from the waist down. The princess kept saying things to him - horrid, filthy, vile things… He didn’t want to hear, he shouldn’t hear… He couldn’t hear…
But his choice was between Fekh’s lewd remarks and the venomous hissing of his inner voice, which was reminding him that his own weakness had led him to this. That he is powerless and vulnerable, pathetic, incapable… Just another pretty face, doomed to become nothing more than a trophey, a plaything for this particular woman, who was at this very moment destroying the last remnants of his childish innocence, without a hint of mercy.
He desperately wished he were stronger. Wished he had some way to make her stop. He furiously clenched his eyes, but all this helped achieve was let the tears stream down his cheeks. Splendid, simply marvelous! As if he hadn’t been humiliated enough so far...
His inner musings were cut short by a new sensation, which drew his attention with such terrifying force that it chased away all other thought from his head like hurricane wind. He felt as though he was falling from way up high - his stomach clenched and at the same time it was as if he had been electrocuted. He opened his eyes wide and screamed so loud, there was little doubt he had been heard all the way to the Recreation Isles. For a moment he thought he was seeing threads of shining light erupt from his skin and spread like lightning on the roots, wrapped around his body. After that, he heard a second scream, even more painful than his own.
For a time, he couldn’t see anything - a blanket of impenetrable darkness was covering his vision and a small, superstitious part of him wondered if there was some truth to the old men’s tales about young boys going blind for having premarital sex. Or was this something else? Through the fabric of confusion, wrapped around his brain, slowly, but surely a few rays of sunlight sneaked through. He blinked a few times and tried to get up. Surprised, he found the roots which were holding him to the ground mere moments ago, spread thorn and dry as firewood a few feet from him. A sharp smell of something burnt was hanging in the air and here and there across the meadow, black circles of charred grass and wood could be seen.
He forced himself to stand up straight on his trembling feet and that’s when he saw her. The princess, fallen a few meters away, looking as though something had thrown her back with frightening force. She was curled up in a ball and looked completely motionless, but even from this distance, he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest. He felt greater relief, than he would care to admit, to see she was alive. Why should he even care? It wasn’t as though what happened to her was his fault. Whatever it was...
He started suddenly realising how he looked. His robe was hanging in pathetic rags from his shoulders, his underwear was lying thorn and thrown Goddess only knew where on the clearing and the princess of the Earth nation was lying unconscious bare feet from where he stood. He needed to get out of here. Immediately.
He threw one last crazed glance around, looking for something relatively appropriate to wear. He saw Fekh’s royal cloak, woven from the Earth nation’s precious strill fabric, with r’zilla bushes emroidered on the back - the royal family crest. It had to do, on short notice. He discarded the tattered remains of his robe and wrapped the cloth around him.
He dashed to the palace, as fast as his legs could carry him, gripping the cloak desperately. As his luck would have it, there was no one around when he flew in through the back door to the garden.
Still, he stopped in the middle of the corridor, as though the momentary burst of energy which had possessed him, had suddenly vanished. His breathing was heavy as he was trying to concentrate. What was he supposed to do? No, rather, what could he do?
A small part of him was screaming to climb upstairs to the throne room and to tell his mother everything. The Empress of Magmalia was a stern and ruthless woman and ruler, but surely this could only work to his benefit? She would rather take out her other eye herself than let someone assault her son without repercussion? So what if it was the Earth princess who did it…
“Come on then, what are we waiting for?”, hissed the wretched inner voice. “Run to mommy - hide behind her cloak and beg her for protection. Maybe if you even turn on the waterworks, she might declare war on them…” No, he violently shook his head. No! It was precisely because he was weak that all of this had happened to him. Precisely because he was so pathetic, had he let this damned fanatic do this to him.
All of a sudden a pang of all-encompassing shame took him over, as though someone had just poured boiling water on his neck. How could he have even entertained the idea of going to his mother? She would look at him with her fiery inquisitive stare and although she would never say anything, he would know. He would feel with every fiber of his being that he had disappointed her. That he had proved to her just how weak and powerless he was. That without a woman by his side he is nothing and would only cement her intent to marry him off as soon as possible.
No! No, no, a million times no! No more arranged marriages!
But what could he do? He couldn’t go to his mother, he couldn’t go to one of his handlads, because they would surely send for her… He felt as though he was suffocating - he couldn’t trust anyone here. He felt small, filthy and terrified…
No, enough of this! If he couldn’t find help here, he would deal with it on his own. Out there - outside the palace in the wide world. That’s right! He would get up to his chambers, wash himself in a flash, get dressed and… He heard some voices and footsteps approaching from the other end of the hallway.
There was no time to wonder - his feet carried him on their own to his room. Very soon all of this would be behind him - just a nightmare from a past life.