not done. posted on accident
The marriage of Braggon and Aliirya
was a short but solemn ceremony, attended by each and every
Vassal Lord or Lady whose kingdom Mythros now ruled. The nominal rulers of those conquered lands knew better than to shirk such a privilege
Ten years earlier, when he'd taken his first wife, some of those who served him had sent representatives or had simply ignored the invites. None of those Royals and Nobles lived today, nor did their spouses, their children, their near and distant relatives, or even the servants and Warriors who had once tended them.
Braggon was called many things in many lands, depending upon how he had treated the people of those nations, including Braggon the Merciful, Braggon the Generous
, and [Braggon the Provider
But the one title for which he was known in every
land was Braggon the Ruthless
. That title alone was as powerful as an army of 10,000 in a time of war. Entire kingdoms had surrendered to Braggon without a single sword swung or arrow loosed.
Braggon glanced to his left at his new bride. She was replacing the wife he'd discarded. Aliirya was nothing like his first wife, however. Braggon had been a young man in need of alliances, and his first wife had been chosen for him by their respective fathers. Once she'd served her first purpose -- bringing him wealth and power -- Braggon had only one more use for her, a vessel for the production of a son.
But, unable to produce an heir, she was of no use to him. One night he walked with her under a full moon to the ocean cliffs ... and tossed her over to the rocks below.
As he looked to Aliirya, he hoped he wouldn't have to repeat that event. Not because he regretted his actions, but because the blond Princess from Tylori was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes upon. She would look good standing next to him at public functions. She would produce beautiful daughters that, in a decade and half, he could use to seal more alliances like the one he'd sealed with her brother to prevent a war between their two nations. And she would produce a son who would inherit his father's brute and might and his mother's beauty and grace.
"May the world prosper under the rule of our Lord, Braggon the Great," the Priestess said, finishing the ceremony and bringing the warrior out of his reverie.
Braggon bowed to the elegantly gowned and jeweled woman, the head of Mythros' religious sect and second most powerful person in the Known World. She made a holy gesture before Braggon, then another before Allirya ... and that was it.
Braggon turned to look at his new wife, his new Queen
, studied her for a moment, imagined how good she was going to feel naked under his powerful bulk, then turned away and departed. He had important state business with which to deal.
"Your highness..." a Guardsman said, catching Aliirya's attention and gesturing her to follow him. He wasn't the only armed man to step forward, to ensure the new slave queen did as she was told...
Braggon entered his bed chamber with his hands covered in blood. He wore a pleased smirk on his face as he headed for the table upon which he knew he would find water, fat soap, and a clean towel.
He stopped suddenly at the sight of Aliirya, as if having forgotten that she would be there waiting for him. His lips widened at the sight of her, chained by her neck and wrists and wearing a single, ankle length garment of sheer fabric through which her incredible womanly features were on full display.
"My queen," he said, giving her a respectful bow as his eyes continued their walk over her incredible form. His smiled faded quickly, though, as he realized that -- for what ever reason -- the Servants had not shaved Aliirya at the meeting of her thighs. He turned toward the door and, with a volume that would frighten giant dragons, hollered, "Herrah!
He moved to the basin and washed the blood from his hands, arms, and chest. He had just finished when the servant woman who had been in charge of Aliirya's preparations entered quickly, took her position behind her lord, and announced her presence.
In one swift motion, Braggon turned, swung a hand, and caught the woman so hard across the face that she flew back into a deep pile of pillows. Braggon inspected his hand for a moment, waited for the woman -- teetering and sobbing -- to stand, and said in a soft voice, "You are excused."
Herrah bowed, backed away, and hurried out, fearing that he would change his mind before she escaped.
Braggon moved to the bed and studied Aliirya for a long moment. Then, beginning to undress, he asked, "So ... shall we consummate this alliance ... my Queen?"