The stench of rotting wood, salt, fish, and seaweed continuously assaulted Pricilla’s nose, making her gag and almost throw up. For a week and a half, they were tossed from wave to wave in that damn pile of driftwood the snarky captain dared call an imperial ship. The first few days, she had barely been able to put a bite in her mouth, vomiting all but water and some dry ship biscuits. It was like her horrible morning sickness had returned just when she had finally rejoiced it going away.

Shivering at the unpleasant memory, Pricilla stroked her stomach and looked over the railings at the tall, sheer cliffs, covered in moss and seagulls, that looked like they were about to squish their boat flat at any minute. She was just over her third month but her belly showed no signs of getting fuller yet, which was her only luck recently. Her gentle strokes stopped and she clutched the front of her gown, remembering the cold glint in her prince’s eyes as he stated her verdict. Seducing that ugly beast! The sheer thought repulsed her and made her bathe in cold sweat. With that horrendous scar destroying half of his face, how could someone be attracted to such a monster, not to say willingly seek intimacy with him? And what about the rest of his body? Was it also deformed and scarred? There were rumors that the Beast of Norden dabbled in black magic. Perhaps he was covered in scales or had goat hoofs like the creatures of the Nether Realms depicted in the Holy Scriptures? No! After laying with someone as perfect as Lionel, it was impossible to even look at a creature like that.

And yet, she had to do it. She had to share her bed with that brute, allow him to defile her body with his dirty touch and his rotten seed. Thank the Fathers, there was no chance to conceive his misshapen offspring, but the mere thought of having him between her legs was nauseating. To think his claws would rip her thighs apart as he plunged greedily inside of her, his foul breath crawling over her skin, suffocating her… That she would have to endure the pain of all his perverted whims, the agony of every thrust…

Tears welled in her eyes, but Pricilla blinked them away, stroking her belly. She had to do it. It was all for her precious baby. All for her love and his grand plan. It was a sacrifice she had to bear in the name of their bright future.

“Duchess Norden.”

Her lips quietly tested the words, the sound of them being less repulsive than expected. Princess Consort and Empress sounded better, but it still gave her motivation. Norden might be a gods-forsaken, frozen chunk of wasteland, but it would still give her the highest possible noble title. And after her future husband’s untimely death, the Emperor could no longer use status as an excuse to keep her and Lionel apart. She would be a poor, young widow, virtuous and bearing the burden of raising a small child.

Still, the thought of her baby’s fate left a bitter aftertaste. If it was a girl, it wouldn’t be such a problem since Limeria elected its emperors patrilineally. But if it were a boy, her poor sweetheart would be deemed the heir of that repulsive beast. There was no way that Lionel would make him crown prince after ascending the throne. It would stir up too many unwanted rumors. Well, at least their second child would get its rightful place beside the throne. The sacrifice of their pitiful firstborn wouldn’t be in vain. And she would make sure that he wouldn’t miss a thing save for the title of Crown Prince.

The images of the rosy future dispersed the clouds of fear and uncertainty. Pricilla hummed a tune and made her way back to her cabin. She needed to prepare since they were to arrive soon. On her way, she caught some of the sailors throwing her thirsting glances, their drooling - repulsive and strangely encouraging at the same time. She had the charm and the body to captivate any heart. That damn beast would be a puppy in her feet in no time, begging her for a single kiss. Foolish thing. She was willing to indulge him only for one night, no matter what Lionel had said. But teasing him and seeing him desperately pursuing her might just be the right remedy for her injured pride.

“Lady Orten,” the captain’s voice sounded near her, “the sun is strong today. You’d better stay inside, lest your pearly complexion gets damaged.”

Oh, how she hated that geezer’s snarky comments! With his graying temples, wind-beaten face, and crooked smile, he tried to act like a cocky rascal despite being middle-aged and having a protruding belly. Well, as repulsive as he was, he could serve as a good practice.

Seeing him coming closer, Pricilla waited for just the right moment when a wave shook the ship. With a loud yelp, she lost her balance and fell into the captain’s arms.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, pressing her voluptuous bosom against his chest. “Thank you for saving me, captain! I could have been injured!”

“A lady has nothing to do out here,” he rumbled, but Pricilla was happy to catch his gaze lingering on her cleavage.

She motioned to separate from him, but suddenly screamed and clung to his chest. Grabbing the coarse fabric, she pressed her face in the perpetual gap of his shirt. His stench of sweat and garlic made her gag, but the hastened beats of his heart were enough of a reward. That and the obvious bulge pressing against her from his nether regions.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Fathers help me!” she gasped and made sure her bosom had full contact with its prey. “I think I’ve twisted my ankle. Oh, captain, would you be so kind as to escort me to my cabin?”

“Y-Yes.” The man licked his dry lips and averted his flushed face. He helped her up and offered her his hand.

Pricilla stumbled again and unceremoniously rested her weight on him, making sure that there was as much contact between their bodies as possible. The redness on the captain’s face deepened and the bulge at his crotch became even more prominent. With a stiff step, he brought Pricilla to her quarters and hastily went away, surely to seek relief in the caresses of his own dirty hand.

Giving the captain’s back a triumphant last look, Pricilla slid into her cabin, her light step without a trace of a stagger or a limp. The murk of the room, with its low ceiling and simple furniture nailed to the floor, made her lips quiver in disgust. Thank the Fathers, it would soon be over.

“Bessie!” she raised her voice, her eyes scrutinizing the cabin. “Get your lazy ass out here right now!”

It was hard to believe that someone could hide in this almost barren room, but the heap of rags stuffed between the foot of her bed and the wall jerked and slowly expanded into a person. Bony arms, dull blue eyes, a face carrying the expression of a dead fish, and those greasy strands of muddy hair surrounding it repulsed Pricilla every time she had to interact with her maid. If Lionel hadn’t insisted on taking her, Pricilla would have never willingly mingled with a cursed witch like her. Then again, she was entering a land of demons and white elves, so it didn’t hurt to have a bit of insurance.

“Help me change clothes,” she snapped and began pulling the strings of her gown.

The woman before her just stood there, slightly rocking back and forth.

‘Damnation! It’s that time again!’

Rolling her eyes, Pricilla fished out a golden chain from between her ample bosom, an intricate key dangling on its end. Opening one of her chests, she pulled out an arm-long box of sturdy oak with iron reinforcements. The key clicked in the lock and Pricilla hurriedly pulled out a vial as little as her pinky from its slot before closing the lid again. Lionel had warned her that Bessie needed to take her medicine once a week or she’ll turn crazy because of some magical hocus-pocus. He also assured her that the girl was loyal to death to her mistress, and Pricilla really hoped it was so.

The moment the maid took the potion with trembling hands and downed it, her rigid face became more life-like and reason sparkled in her dull eyes.

“My gown! Now!” Pricilla spat the order and sighed.

Slowly but surely, her old dress was peeled off and replaced by a piece of art she had chosen especially for the occasion. Her golden underdress was almost through, its broad sleeves gathered at her wrists to create a cascade of alluring folds, her arms peeking through just enough to entice the imagination. Its cleavage matched the one of her flowing pink outer dress and barely covered her nipples in the latest trend of the Capital. A special system of laces and whalebone pushed her breasts up dangerously close to a spillage, promoting them in all their alabaster glory. Her skirts fanned freely under her bust, giving her the appearance of a fairy from a romantic ballad and, more importantly, not constraining her precious baby. An ample amount of perfume turned the shabby cabin into a garden of roses and violets. The finishing touch was her hair - half braided in a crown around her head, the other half falling free over her shoulders in waves of golden-brown silk. Pursing her lips, Pricilla dabbed a bit of rouge on them and spread some to her cheeks. She frowned in the tiny spotted travel mirror and turned her head around, inspecting every curl and brushstroke, finally deemed her looks acceptable.

With a confident step, Pricilla exited the cabin, and Bessie dragged her feet after her mistress like a scrawny shadow. Their appearance on deck made the whole crew freeze on their posts, eyes peeled in their direction. A satisfied smirk curved Pricilla’s lips. Only an eunuch would remain indifferent when met with such splendor and that repulsive beast was, despite his looks and reputation, still just a man.

Chin held high, she stepped on the foredeck and greeted her father who was talking to the captain.

“My lovely child!” Count Orten exclaimed with a benign smile but his little eyes scrutinized and evaluated his daughter’s looks with the keenness of a merchant. “You look like a goddess today! Why go through all the trouble for those savages?”

“I am the representative of the Crown Prince’s Palace.” She fluttered her lashes bashfully, not missing the captain’s flushed face and gaping mouth. “I need to show the necessary class so as to not be frowned upon and neglected.”

“Who would dare disdain a lady-in-waiting of the Crown Princess?” Her father snorted.

“But this is Norden, father.” Pricilla pursed her lips. ”What if the Duke finds any shortcomings in my presentation? It would reflect badly on the Crown Prince. Even worse, imagining Lorelei looking down on me from her position of duchess...”

“Huh! A mud-crawler remains a mud-crawler even when dressed in silks, my precious Pricilla.” Her father snorted and patted her hand. “No need to concern yourself with that low-born girl. Her job is to keep that savage’s bed warm and open her legs for him, not to be a real duchess. But if she has forgotten her place, you should teach her-”

The ring of a bell interrupted the Count, announcing their entry into the harbor of Yalda. Even from that far away, Pricilla could see the crowd gathered at the peer to welcome them. To welcome her - their new duchess.