Princess in Distress

King Emyr was seated on his throne, lounging while his eyes lingered lazily. Adela was kneeling on the floor, when a guard kicked her shoulder blades, forcing her to fall on her face, with her messy hair and hands pushed to rest on the dirty ground. Dust in her face, the dress in rags, her bruised body was shaking. Adela was no longer the beautiful princess she was once known as. Tales of her beauty had long been told across the lands. Songs were sung about her long, black hair, her firm, slender, youthful body - but most were captivated by her smile, which transpired a rare combination of seduction and wisdom whenever she let it light up her face.

Emyr, however, had never seen that smile. King Emyr was ruthless and his ambitions had no boundaries. He had been engaged in a decade-long, bloody and brutal war against Adela's father. Marit, King of the Old Lands, had made the mistake of crossing Emyr when he imposed new taxes on traders crossing the borders from the Old Lands to Emyr's territory. The Lands of the Five Rivers was lush with nature and easy to traverse using the waterways - and King Emyr knew how to leverage taxes on those making use of his natural richnesses.

Marit had sent his army to protect his traders, or to at least get a share of the newly levied taxes and Emyr would have none of that. On the first day of their dispute, King Emyr grovelled and howled at King Marit "my land, my taxes. Do not dare cross me, Marit. Your bloodline will be bound by regret for generations."

For all of King Marit's good traits, pride and reason never got along well within his easily inflamed heart. After years of bloodshed, Emyr eventually prevailed when his troops captured 21 year old Adela and her 18 year old sister Elara, while King Marit charged in wounded pride yet again at King Emyr's bastions.

"Adela, Adela, Adela..." King Emyr murmured between clenched teeth.

Adela flinched at the sound of her name being called. She could barely control her breathing, and her slim body was shaking at the sound of his rough voice. She had not seen the light of day for over a month. She had been held captive in an underground prison below the thick walls of King Emyr's castle. She did not know what had happened since she was brutally pulled from her shielded home. She was unaware of the fate of her father, and her kingdom.

Her face still carried the bruises of the beatings of the morning, and her limbs were sore from the repeated abuse they had been subjected to. All desire had left her young body and was replaced with despair. She knew, she had lost control over her life.

"Adela. What would you do go get a life that is at least as good as a maid?"

"I do not know", she whispered, her eyes downcast. "My life is not mine to control. I am your hostage, my liege, a possession of my captor."

Emyr nodded in approval. "Yes, that you are." He lowered his voice "So, what do you think you are worth to me? Situations have changed."

She glanced up at him, with fear and hopelessness in her eyes. Her full lips quivered, while she responded shallowly. "I am not sure of my worth anymore. You are treating me like a burden to be dealt with however you see fit. I have been spat on, I have been hit and beaten. You may not see much in me..." Her voice trailed while her deep blue eyes lost focus on her captor. Her full, youthful breasts rose and sank with an exhausted sigh.

"Adela, your worth was defined by your father's rage, and your father's wounded pride. Since I captured you, he has been howling like a wounded animal. He always wanted to conquer my kingdom, but his fate is determined. Since your capture, he has not attacked. And yesterday night, my spies found him in his hide-away and killed him. He is no danger to me anymore."

Adela's body shot up, she straightened her back, with her breasts heaving in shock and anger, tears forming in her eyes. "You killed him? You! He was innocent! You vile..." her voice broke as she tried to speak.

Emyr raised his heavy hand in anger. "Don't you dare." he spoke slowly, "don't you dare speak to me like that."

Adela caught a breath and realised her precarious situation, feeling small and insignificant. "I am sorry my Lord. Please forgive me. I did not mean to be disrespectful or daring."

Emyr reacted with disgust. "Do remember how you got here."

She nodded her head slowly, with her eyes downcast again. "I remember my Lord, I remember why I am here."

"Good. Now, remember, your presence in my care kept him at bay. But what am I to do with you now? His kingdom is mine, there is no danger left that he would represent."

Adela's face remained motionless, while the new truth sank in. Her head bowed low, her royal silhouette throwing cowered shadows on the floor.

"Speak, Princess", said Emyr.

"I am... I am not sure my Lord. It is up to you to decide what becomes of me. I am but a captive of war. I fear it is your decision now, to dispose of me as you see fit."

Emyr smiled ruthfully. "Well, while that is true... I want to know. What would you do in my stead? Prove to me you are not just a beautiful body."

Adela's eyes widened slightly at his words. She swallowed hard before responding. "I.. I am not sure what I would do, my Lord. I am but a broken husk of who I once was. I am sorry to disappoint."

King Emyr's face hardened. "Adela, stand up straight." Adela forced herself to stand up, her back rigid and tense. Her stained skin shone through her ragged clothes, her collarbones moving up and down rapidly as she tried to control her breathing and her fear.

"Adela, you will give me three options what I should do with the princess of a captured land, heir of her line. You are next to the throne, and your father trained you for this moment. Tell me now, or I will have you stripped of your clothes and whipped in the courtyard." King Emyr leaned forward to emphasise his point. "Your beauty does not save you today. Use your wits."

Adela tried to catch a breath and centre herself. Attempting unsuccessfully to keep her voice steady and respectful, she finally answered. "My Lord, it is your decision entirely. You might want to keep me as a hostage and use me to keep the kingdom in check. You could sell me into captivity or send me into exile to avoid my presence being perceived as a danger to your rule. Or you might want to send me back to my people, and install me as your loyal servant to rule in your stead."

King Emyr nodded slowly. "Good, Adela. Now tell me, princess. How much are your people attached to your blood line? Now that your father is killed. By the way we had him drown in the horses stable, he was squealing like a pig. Now that your father is killed, what would your people see in you?"

Adela drew a sharp breath, her face paled at the mention of how her father was killed. She fought back tears, wringing her long, gentle fingers. "My people, my Lord, are very attached to our bloodline. They see me as a captive of war, a victim in all of this. They would see me as a symbol of hope and leadership, especially during such times of great loss and uncertainty. You have fought a long and bloody war. My people long for an end to these times."

"Well spoken, Adela. So maybe there is more to you than your admittedly extraordinary beauty..." King Emyr straightened his back: "What would they hope you do?"

"My Lord, they hope that I could bring peace to our land. They want me to see working towards a future where we are not at war with you. They might hope that I could become a strong leader, doing what is best for my people."

King Emyr barely suppressed a laugh. "Adela, you are no leader. You are a princess without experience. People sing of your curves and your seductive lips. They don't sing of your wisdom and your conquests. You only have your own body and your bloodline to show for. Think, but think wisely. These are your assets. What can they achieve for you? What can you trade them for?" Adela felt a revulsion in her belly and a tingle in her loins. "Now, think your options through for me, would you. Tell me, would your people accept or revolt if I did any of what you suggest?" King Emyr clearly seemed to enjoy his game. He enjoyed Adela's flinching, her nervosity, the way her gentle body shifted and shivered.

"You are correct, my Lord. I have no experience or skill to be a leader. I am only a princess by blood. But I am a symbol, and a powerful one. As you hear, songs about me have travelled the land far and wide, and new ones will be written about my fate. Neither you nor me have the power to avoid that. My people would surely revolt if I was killed or sold into slavery. That would be seen as a great injustice, an act of cruelty and unnecessary violence. The dishonour to our bloodline would escalate the tension between our kingdoms. If I would be send into exile, they would seek to get me back to lead them. While I have no desire to lead a revolt against your kingdom, you would invite a period of unrest an instability. If you keep me here as a hostage, my people would react the same way and surely seek to free me. Surely, if you sent me back into my kingdom to lead your people, I could bring the peace you seek."

King Emyr could not help but smirk. "That is a bit transparent, my princess. How would I ensure you have the right incentives? You would live a quiet life, and end up finding a suitor that is willing to put on his shining armour to right to wrongs and injustices your people perceive I have wielded against you. No, princess, you have to be bound to me in ways that cannot be disentangled. What would your people feel if I took you as a wife?"

Adela's body jolted up. She was shocked by the thought. "My people would likely see it as a great betrayal, my Lord. They would be outraged that I was being used as a pawn in your game of politics and that their princess was forced to wed someone from a hostile kingdom. They may even consider it an act of war."

King Emyr laughed, uncontrollably. "And what would you feel, my princess?"

Adela paused and looked down at the ground before meeting his gaze with a resigned expression. "As a hostage, my Lord, my feelings do not matter. But if it is to be my fate to be taken as a wife, I will accept it with as much dignity as I can muster."

Emyr became agitated. "So, no matter, what I do with you, your people will see it as an act of war?"

"No, my Lord. If it is perceived as unjust, my Lord, then yes. My people may see it as an act of war. However, if you treat me and my people with fairness and respect, they may feel differently."

"Now, Adela, who is the arbiter of fairness and respect?"

"You are the arbiter of fairness and respect, my Lord. As the ruler of your kingdom, it is up to you to set the tone for how we will be treated."

"Very well answered. Here, then, is my ruling." Emyr paused. An unruly expression crossed his face. "You will get bathed. You will get cleaned up. You will be made beautiful again."

Adela looked up with surprise in her eyes, barely believing what she was hearing. "My Lord...? Are you saying,... that you will show me kindness?" Her body was tingling, she was aching to be more civil again. Her skin was desiring to be soft and smooth again, her hair to be soft and free.

Emyr continued with a chuckle: "and then... you will treat me as if I am showing you kindness. You will present me to your people as a kind and fair ruler. As the king your father never could be. You will speak on my behalf to your people, you will be my witness."

Adela took a moment to process these words, nodding her head slowly. "I... I understand, my Lord. I will do as you ask and try my hardest to be a good princess to you."

Emyr laughed out loud. "No, you do not understand. Not fully, anyways. You will be publicly infatuated with me. You will show your nobles and your people that you, the fairest of your bloodline, have found a superior in me. Somebody you are inspired by, and whom you desire. You will come home like you have found enlightenment during your pleasant stay in my castle. You will go to great length doing so. Can you do that, and be credible about it?"

Adela barely heard Emyr's voice through the blood rushing through her ears. The thought of going home, of being spared, it blended all other concerns out. She scarcely processed the meaning of "whom you desire" and the cruelty in her having to pretend that a month in the dungeon was an enlightening experience. She nodded solemnly, accepting his directive without question.

"I will do my best, my Lord. Even though you have been cruel to me. I understand that it is important for us to maintain appearances and create a sense of unity between our kingdoms. I will try to do well by you."

"Good", Emyr smirked. "Here is what you will do. You did not want to be exiled, nor did you want to become my wife. Now you will be my whore, but the holiest of all."

Adela's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You will be expected to take me by your hand, lead me into your holiest temple, and in an act of being overwhelmed spontaneously by your own desires, you will give yourself to me, on the altar. You will be the one urging me, I will resist. In front of your people, you will invite me to take you. You will deprave yourself, overtaken by lust and desire".

Adela lost all colour in her already pale face. Her hand shot up to her face, trying to hide her shock. Shifting nervously on her feet, she felt the blood rushing into her cheeks, the thought burning through her nerves. She became painfully aware of her belly turning, her accelerated breathing and a fearful tingling in her loins. Hesitatingly, she attempted to form her words wisely.

"My Lord, that is a very specific request. I will try to follow your instructions to the best of my ability, but please understand that it goes against my own beliefs and values."

Emyr's smile disappeared, being replaced by a hardened mouth, clenching his teeth. "Adela, are you resisting me forever more? Do you wish to be returned to your chambers in the belly of my castle? You have lost your right to your own beliefs and values. You are to believe in me now. I am what you are to value above everything else. You are mine to command, and you will do as you wish. Adela, what will you do?"

Adela became aware of how cold it was in the wide court hall. Her body shivered in fear and in despair. Her clothes clinged to her cool body, goosebumps running over her body, cold sweat running down her spine. She resigned herself to her new reality. "You are right, my Lord. I am yours to command. I will believe in you and value what you want above everything else.

Emyr grinned, satisfied. His win over the Old Lands would be complete and full. His fingers tapped on his throne. "Good, now, get ready. Bath in milk, make your skin soft again and your hair smell like roses. Come back in your finest clothes and tell me in great detail how you will urge me to fuck you on the altar of your people."

With that, Adela bowed her head with a sense of dread in her heart, while a guard ushered her out of the throne room to prepare her.

Chapter 2

"Adela, are you ready?"

The princess entered the throne room slowly, no longer dirty or bruised. She had enjoyed three days of being pampered and pruned. Her skin had been massaged by fine, long fingers. Her hair had been braided by the maids of the King. She had soaked her sore body in milk baths and the volcanic springs of the Kingdom of the Five Rivers. She felt refreshed and yet incredibly apprehensive.

She knew, she was only treated well because she was expected to perform a service for her people that was unheard of. Being a female prisoner of war, of royal bloodline, usually never ends well for the sexual integrity of the captured, and she was to experience first hand what the old ladies at her court had only dared to whisper about in the shadows of the nights. Adela carried herself with a sense of hesitation and fear, her eyes downcast as if ashamed.

"My Lord, I am ready to do as you directed." Adela stood in front of King Emyr, shaking with disbelief. Her father dead, her army disbanded, she knew her fate was sealed. And King Emyr was the executioner of her destiny.

"Then tell me what you will say in the temple."

Adela took a deep breath, summoning up all her courage before speaking. Her voice a little shaky and uncertain, she wrestled her long hands and hugged her slender figure. "My lord, I will lead you to the altar and tell you that I have been waiting for this moment for so long. I will tell you that I am overcome with desire for you, and that I want you to have me, right here and now, in front of our people. I will plead with you to take me, to show everyone how much you love me."

Her voice betrayed her words, but she uttered them regardless. She knew what was required of her.

King Emyr however, was at his most comfortable. He enjoyed the thought of coaching her into submission. His muscular body was expanding, while he stood up to challenge her. He towered over her tiny figure. "I will say it is improper. I will insist that I cannot deprave your altar like that. What will you respond, Adela?"

Adela shuddered to think before answering. She felt his cruelty almost viscerally. He would turn the tables completely. He would make her the predator, and himself the prey. Her people were never to see it was all a performance, she was to pretend to give herself to him willingly and in full obedience, without force.

She took a moment to think but responded eventually: "My Lord, I will continue to insist that this is what I want. I will declare my love and desire for you, for you are so strong that I cannot bear to wait any longer. I will plead with you to indulge me, to show everyone how much we truly love each other."

Her body betrayed her, she shivered as she outlined her role in the charade. She stood in front of him in a long white, flowing dress. Her bare nipple pressed against the soft fabric, her collar bone and neck exposed.

King Emyr stepped closer. He took her chin in his fingers, directing her eyes to meet his gaze. "Do you have no shame, woman? This cannot sound like a woman in heat. You must respond differently. It must sound like a woman with a diving calling to anoint me with your sexuality."

Adela attempted to look down and avoid is dark eyes. "I'm sorry, my lord. I will try harder to do your bidding. I understand that it is important for the people to feel like you are the chosen one, the one who is meant to lead us all to greatness."

"So, what will you say, princess?" Emyr growled at her, his breath in his face.

"I will tell you that it is like a force inside of me, my Lord, something that is calling me to you. That what we have together is unique and special. I will say this is not lust but I will urge you to take me to show the people that we are meant to be together, that our love is as powerful as any divine force." Adela stopped to gauge his reaction. "Will this meet your approval?" She felt her body react to his strong arms fixating her face, her nose caught his strong odour and she realised she was losing her composure.

"No, Adela. That is not enough. It is to be even more explicit."

Adela hesitated for a moment, clearly getting more uncomfortable with his demands. It was one thing to be submitted to a king's whims. It was another to perform a public act of theatre to justify the submission.

"Then... I will tell you that my womb aches for you, my Lord. That I can think of nothing else but the feel of your body against mine. That I worship you, and that I would do anything, anything at all to make you happy." As she spoke, her voice grew softer, and more hesitant, as if she was grappling with her own feelings and desires.

"Yes, Adela. But who instills those feelings in you? Are these your gods? And who am I to those gods?" Emyr moved closer to her.