Chapter XXIII: Desire
As the Dragon King’s generals congratulated him on the hard-won victory in the Battle of the South, they wasted no time in discussing the next move: the conquest of the Theran Islands. They pressed the king for a decision on when to launch the assault, eager to extend their momentum and secure further triumphs. However, Alaric's mind was elsewhere.
With a heavy heart and a weariness born of battle, a battle that sowed the lives of his most prized dragon, many of his soldiers and countless subjects, the king expressed his desire to return to the Capital Palace with all haste. He brushed aside their inquiries about the Theran Islands, insisting that such matters would be addressed upon their arrival in the capital. Truth was, Alaric didn’t feel victorious, he was grieving.
As the king rode home on Kallirion, his late brother's dragon, he couldn't shake off the heavy weight of loss that accompanied him. Thanatos, his faithful companion, was no more, and the empty space beside him served as a constant reminder of the battles fought and lives lost.
Upon arriving in the capital, the allure of the warm waters of the bathing house beckoned to him. However, the thought of being surrounded by his concubines felt less appealing than usual. His desire for peace and solitude outweighed his usual indulgences. Determined to find solace in the quiet, he decided to take a secluded path through the harem's garden, avoiding the clamor of his concubines' quarters.
As the king made his way through the harem's garden, his footsteps slowed to a halt as something caught his attention. There, amidst the gentle murmur of the stream, was Isabella, dancing in the water with an ethereal grace that created a picture so vivid and beautiful he wondered if he wasn’t dreaming.
He watched, entranced, as she moved with a carefree abandon, the morning light casting a halo around her figure. Her nightgown, slightly damp from the water, clung to her curves and made the fabric almost transparent, perfectly marking the shape of her full breasts and lovely nipples.
In that moment, the king felt a surge of desire wash over him, an uncontrollable longing that seemed to consume his every thought. That fiery desire was threatening to take over him entirely, he longed to reach out and pull her close, to lose himself in the embrace of her beauty and finally do what it takes to make her a woman. His woman.
His moment of silently watching her fell short as she was made aware of his gaze."Y-your Majesty…” Isabella muttered as she awkwardly scrambled out of the stream, her heart pounding in her chest. As the king approached her, he noticed some fear in her eyes. "I didn’t mean to scare you," he said softly, trying to reassure her.
"I-I should go back inside," she stammered, her voice trembling. Ignoring her apparent nervousness, the king continued to advance, his gaze fixed on her. "Don’t worry," he insisted, his voice gentle yet determined, as he stood right in front of her, dangerously close. His hand reached out to the soft, wet linen that covered her breasts and touched her nipple over the soaked fabric. "You are so beautiful."
But Isabella's fear only grew as he drew closer, his desire palpable in the air between them. She swallowed hard, her mind filled with uncertainty and apprehension.
Isabella's heart raced as the king pulled her close by her waist, his touch sending shivers down her spine, ending all the space between their bodies.
"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heartbeat. But her plea seemed to fall on deaf ears as the king continued to keep her body in contact to his own. His mouth reached her neck while he began to lay her down on the grass, his weight pressing against her. She felt so small and vulnerable beneath his tall, strong build. He pulled the thin straps of her nightgown and exposed her breasts entirely, his movements determined and relentless.
Isabella's mind raced with fear and confusion, her body trembling beneath him. She tried to push him away, but his grip on her was firm, his desire overriding any protest she could muster.
"Please, Your Majesty," she pleaded again, her voice trembling with fear. "What are you doing? Please…"
But the king's determination seemed unwavering as he leaned in closer, his hot breath against her ear. "Shh, don’t worry," he murmured, his tone disturbingly calm. "Don’t worry, my dear."
The king opened his pants and his hard, throbbing cock reached the entrance to Isabella’s virgin cunt. As he felt the softness of her delicate folds, he couldn’t contain himself and penetrated her all at once, deflowering her in a single breath. She let out a contained cry, probably out of pain. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he felt like he was no longer in control of his desire, he just wanted her badly, insanely, like an irrational animal.
Isabella was overwhelmed with everything she was feeling at that moment. First, there was fear. Then, there was pain. And now… She had no words to describe what the feeling was, as the king moved his body on top of her, inside of her. He looked at her in the eyes and touched her lips with his thumbs. She couldn't understand why his touch felt both terrifying and strangely comforting at the same time. Nothing seemed to be right at that moment. Yet, she felt like everything made sense.
The king felt close to reaching his utmost pleasure. As he moved his hips, his cock relishing on the sensation of the wetness of her sweet cunt, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to pull out and spill his seed anywhere else but deep inside of her. He didn’t care, nothing else mattered, to him, that moment felt like a glimpse of divine infinity. His entire body contracted and released in a few spasms as he came. He looked at Isabella’s face, a couple tears falling down her flushed cheeks, but she didn’t seem scared or disgusted, just overwhelmed. He removed himself out of her and she gasped.
As the king finished, he rose to his feet, closing his pants, observing Isabella as she propped herself up on her elbows, her expression a mix of vulnerability and confusion. Tentatively, he crouched in front of her. He reached out to her cheek with the back of his hand, but she flinched at his touch. His gaze turned serious, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes before he stood and silently left her alone in the garden.
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