The flames of the torches flicker in the grand council hall, casting shifting shadows on the carved stone walls.
King Aldwin of Xers, a man with graying hair and weary eyes, watches his ministers gathered around the massive oak table.
"Damaris," spat Lord Garett, the minister of foreign affairs, slamming his gloved fist on the oak table. "This creature dared to tread our lands! It's a declaration of war, Sire! An insult to the crown!"
A murmur of agreement rose among the other ministers.
The ministers wore ornate armor or embroidered robes.
The minister of finance, a lean man with piercing eyes, nodded vigorously.
"Lord Garett is right, Sire. Damaris mocks us. Her presence on our shores was a calculated provocation. We cannot let this affront go unanswered."
"A month," interjected the minister of trade, a frail old man named Master Elrik. "A whole month has passed since we sent Sir Aldric Pendragon to confront her. Not a single word. No raven, no messenger. Nothing."
The king raised a weary hand. His fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair.
"And what exactly do you propose? That we declare war on the Scarlet Celestial City? We already have three fronts open with neighboring kingdoms."
Lord Garett clenched his teeth. "Majesty, with all due respect, Sir Aldric was our greatest champion. If he is…" He hesitated. "If he has perished, we must avenge his death. Our honor demands it."
"Perished?" A clear, sharp voice rang out from the far end of the hall.
A woman with blonde hair tied in a tight bun stood tall. Her eyes, icy blue.
Lady Lyanna Pendragon, minister of the armies of Xers. She wore light black armor, adorned with silver flame motifs. A two-handed sword rested against her chair.
All eyes turned to her.
"My brother is not dead."
Lord Garett smirked. "Lady Lyanna, I understand your familial attachment, but a month of silence…"
"A month of silence means nothing. Aldric has undertaken missions lasting months without word. He may be scouting, or…"
"Or he's dead," Lord Marcus, the minister of justice and the eldest, cut in bluntly. "That dragoness killed him and is now hiding in some lair, licking her wounds. It's the only logical explanation for his silence."
"My brother is a high paladin, Lord Marcus. No dragon, not even one of the Seven, could bring him down so easily."
Lord Garett snorted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Your devotion is admirable, Lady Lyanna, but the facts are clear. A month without word is an eternity on the battlefield. Either Damaris reduced him to ashes, or…" He paused, a sly smile on his lips. "Or he deserted, fleeing from the dragoness."
Lady Lyanna shot to her feet. "Say that again, Garett, and I'll make you choke on your words at the tip of my blade."
The king slammed his fist on the table. "Enough. We're not here to bicker like children. Lady Lyanna, how many men can we deploy to the coastal region without weakening our other fronts?"
"One hundred fifty knights, including seven paladins. That's the most without compromising our defenses elsewhere."
"Good. Have them patrol the coast. I want answers." The king turned to the other ministers. "And our relations with Valdris and Astoria?"
Master Elrik cleared his throat. "Valdris maintains its neutrality, Sire, but their merchants continue trading with our enemies. As for Astoria… Queen Isabelle still refuses our marriage alliance."
"That woman is stubborn as a mule," growled Lord Garett. "If she agreed to marry the first prince, we'd have a strong ally against the northern elves."
Lady Lyanna scoffed. "Perhaps Astoria's queen is simply wise enough not to burden herself with our debauched prince."
An awkward silence fell over the assembly. Prince Edmund, the king's eldest son, was indeed notorious for his escapades in the capital's brothels, despite his undeniable military talents.
"Prince Edmund will redeem himself," the king said sharply. "He's young."
"He's thirty-two, Majesty," the minister of finance dared to murmur.
The king shot him a glacial look, making him shrink back in his chair.
"What of Melkart's corsairs?" Aldwin continued.
"They're growing bolder, Sire," replied Lord Mitchel, minister of internal affairs. "Since we pulled our warships to reinforce the siege of Erandel, they've been acting with impunity."
"Our merchants demand protection," added Master Elrik.
"Erandel still holds?"
Lord Garett nodded grimly. "The city-state stands firm, Majesty. Their paladins are tougher than expected. The siege could drag on for months."
The king rubbed his temples.
"And the elves of Jaya? Are they moving?"
"Their patrols have intensified along our northern borders. Nothing hostile yet, but… they're watching. As always."
"They're waiting for us to exhaust ourselves against our other enemies," concluded Lord Marcus. "Classic elven strategy. Let us tear each other apart, then strike when we're weak."
Lady Lyanna spoke again. "Majesty, grant me a private audience. I have a proposal."
The king studied her for a moment.
"My lords, the session is adjourned."
The ministers rose and left the hall.
Only the king and Lady Lyanna remained.
"Speak, Lady Lyanna."
"Majesty, let me lead the expedition."
The king shook his head. "Lady Lyanna, I cannot risk losing both Pendragon siblings. Your father was my most loyal friend. Besides, you are my marshal. You cannot be on the front lines."
"Sire, the Pendragon honor is at stake."
Aldwin gazed at her for a long moment.
With a sharp motion, he unfastened his belt and lowered his trousers, revealing an imposing erection.
"Come to your king."
Lyanna approached the throne. She knelt before the king, her blue eyes fixed on his erect member.
"Majesty…"
He gripped the back of her neck.
"Show me your devotion."
Lyanna took his member in her hand, feeling its heat and power between her fingers. She brought her lips closer, then began to caress it with her tongue.
The king dug his fingers into her hair.
"Why do you wish to leave me?"
She intensified her movements, taking more of him into her mouth.
King Aldwin guided her head, setting his rhythm.
After a few moments of this intimate dance, the king firmly held Lyanna's head, keeping her in place as he thrust his hips forward.
Lyanna felt the king's member harden further in her mouth. She took him deeply, her lips sliding along his length.
Her mouth filled. She swallowed every drop.
She licked the liquid that spilled over her lips and wiped the king's member with her mouth.
"Your king needs you by his side, Lady Lyanna. I promised your father. Do you understand?"
Lyanna looked up at the king.
"Majesty, I am ready to do anything to serve Xers."
She rose slowly, then walked to the great oak table. With a sweep of her hand, she cleared the parchments and maps, creating an empty space in the center. She leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the rough surface, then glanced back at the king over her shoulder.
"I am yours, Sire."
The king approached. He stopped behind her, his hands resting on her hips, his fingers digging into her firm flesh. Lyanna arched, pressing her buttocks against him, feeling his erection. She parted her legs, offering a view of her already wet intimacy.
Lyanna slid a hand between her thighs, her fingers finding her swollen clit. She began to caress herself slowly.
The king watched. His member hardened, then he positioned himself behind her, aligning his tip at her entrance.
"You are mine, Lyanna. Mine alone."
With a powerful thrust, he entered her, filling her tight channel.
"Aahh… Ngh!"
The king began to move, his hips slapping against her buttocks, his hands gripping her hips to maintain the rhythm.
"Haa… Haa! Sire… Hah… Hah… Sire, I am yours. Always yours. Sire… I am yours. Always yours."
The king quickened his movements, his thrusts growing harder, deeper.
"Aaaah! Haa! Aahh!"
"Rrgh!"
He released inside her, his body trembling with the force of his climax.
They remained like that, the king still buried in her. Lyanna slumped against the table, her body softening. The king leaned forward, his lips finding her ear.
"You are mine, Lyanna. And you will stay by my side, where you belong."
Lyanna nodded, a smile on her lips. "Yes, Sire. Always."