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“Mate.” The low voice growls, the bass tone vibrates my body, compelling me to surrender. “Mate.” The word leaves my lips as a whisper on the wind. So quiet but full of intention. Breathy and wanton. Theia joyfully surges forward. It’s as if time stops. The crowd around me fades as I focus only on the specimen before me. Fresh rain on Evergreens and lemon thyme. The scent is familiar and intoxicating. “Everything belongs to me, little she-wolf, even you.” He whispers in my ear, his body painfully close to me. My knees feel weak. Just being in his presence is overwhelming. I can feel eyes burning into me. Hushed whispers buzzing around me. His fingers trace my collarbone and shamelessly dip between my breasts. Our heartbeats are synchronized, beating as one, as if our rhythm has always been in tune. “Prince Edward of Fives.” I say breathlessly. “I’m not sure I know your name.” He says in return. “Ceres, your highness.” I respond. “Sons and Daughters of Selene!” The Rev
I kneel and look up to him. His hand firmly grasping his scepter. His body looming over me, so large and powerful. “Open your pretty little mouth.” He commands. I comply. My mouth opened ready to take communion. He rubs the slick tip on my tongue. The taste divine, salty and savory. I open wider to accommodate his thick member. “Good girl.” He confirms, as he plunges himself into my mouth. My lips are straining to stretch to accommodate him. His assault on my mouth gagging me with the size both terrifying and exhilarating. I place my hands on his muscular hips as he thrusts into my mouth. His hips and backside powerfully thrusting roughly beating the back of my throat. I desperately try to breathe through my nose as he continues. My hands shift from bracing myself to trying to lessen the power of his thrusts. I pull back only for him to push the back of my head towards him, forcing me to take his entire length. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I am gagged by his massive m
“The priestesses will decide if you are worthy.” He says after a long moment of silence. “What?” I say, unclear what he means. His juices leaking like a river from my backside, my body too sore and battered to move. “The Immaculate Mother must accept you as my mate.” He says dryly. “You must pass the exams.” “Didn’t you just—- accept me?” I question feeling completely vulnerable and exposed. “No.” He laughs. “I just took you. I made sure not to seed your womb, so if you are forced to become a priestess or choose to die; at least I was able to taste you once and there are no complications.” His words disgust me. Instead of content and satisfied, I feel used and soiled. I feel Theia’s heartbreak as she whimpers and crawls into the darker corners of my mind. “I don’t understand.” I whisper. “Look, it isn’t personal. I’m destined to be King. I can’t just mate anyone.” He explains. His tone sterile, like he was reading from an encyclopedia. “I had a feeling this match was going
My face is barely above the water line as I scan the area looking for the person attached to the voice. I really am cursed. A woman emerges from the fog dressed in a pink sheer fabric draped elegantly across her body. The garment was fastened at the shoulder and a belt of gold cinches it at the waist. Garlands of flowers adorn her hair. “We have come to cleanse you.” She smiles. Women emerge from the fog in all directions carrying all the things a fine lady may have in her bath. Their dresses are all the colors of a meadow. Soft yellows and pinks, green gowns adorned with garlands of leaves, soft and sheer, the gowns melted into the water as they surround me. “Our Goddess has sent us to cleanse you and to remind you that your threads are woven together for a reason.” The woman in pink says. “The Immaculate Mother is coming, it is not safe for you here.” I whisper, as a girl scrubs my body with a soap that smells of honey and vanilla. “We are guarded. This space is protected.
The woman in pink claps her hands and the pond disappears and a meadow takes its place. My body dry and clean, I stand naked. The women who were just moments ago washing and perfuming my body disappear into mist. With a small bow, the woman in pink does as well. On the wind I hear her reminder. “Follow your path without judgment.” Asteria takes a stick and carves a circle into the ground. “What are you doing?” I ask. “We will hold our ritual. It is safe here.” She says plainly. “So you will give me a name?” I ask, unsure of how any of these rituals work. “Yes. I will name you. The ancestors have already whispered your name to me in my dreams.” She confides. “Stand within the circle. No matter what happens, do not leave the circle.” “What do you mean, no matter what happens? What do you expect?” I ask. “You can never anticipate what may appear outside the circle. Just heed my warning and do not leave it until I say.” She says firmly. She stands in the circle, arms raised an
“She will return. I’ve already told her I would not mate her until after the trials.” My mate snarls at a woman in a white robe. I lurk under the cover of thick brush and trees, within the darkness of the woods. I assume she is the Immaculate Mother, though his tone would be far too harsh if it were. A simple circlet graces her brow, a small glinting stone in the center. It looks like an opal with all the little rainbow flecks catching the light. Her robe, a lush white velvet with a thick hood, making it difficult to really judge her size or beauty. “She must pass or accept the higher calling.” She says solemnly. “The Goddess guides, but sometimes that guidance is to Her service. We are here, armed with the ancient texts and trials, to make that determination, my Prince.” “She is my mate. Mine.” He counters. He paces as she speaks. Clearly anxious. “Your stars guide you to greatness, my Prince. The Goddess intends for you to one day become King. Your Queen must be worthy of the
The carriage awaits just outside the clearing. A short walk through the trees and a road appears. Road may be generous, the dirt path only wide enough for a single carriage. It’s the type of road you would only be on if you knew of it, the chances of stumbling upon it are slim. “Into the carriage, my child.” She commands, arm outstretched toward the door. A coachman stands at attention next to the door, no hand lent to sturdy my step into my awaiting cage. Follow your path. I repeat to myself as I climb into the carriage. The carriage is plain but that does not mean it isn’t luxurious. The inside is sparsely decorated but richly furnished. I recognize the grain of the wood, a tree only found in the North at the tops of Crescent Moon Pack territory. It’s a sacred tree of the ancients, only one is cut each year, and mostly used for ceremonies. Most decorative pieces are made from fallen limbs, too small to produce a carriage interior. I gently ghost the wood accents with my finger
There is something eerie about caves. The rocks carved out around you by water and wind over thousands of years. The temple is built over this cave system, we descended what felt like miles of stone stairs to arrive at the cave mouth. My body aches from the journey and my activities before. “Remove your robe.” One of the priestesses says to me. These are the first words they have uttered since escorting me to the temple as the Immaculate Mother demanded. I comply, resigned to following along. “These are the sacred springs of Selene. It is said the minerals hold the dreams of Endymion’s endless sleep; the water, the tears of the Goddess for her lover’s endless slumber.” Another priestess explains leading me toward the pool. “This is a ceremonial bath to cleanse you so the Immaculate Mother may see your path.” I suppress the fear rising like bile from my stomach. My mother warned me that the priestesses can detect witches. “We are one. We will push past.” Theia assures me in my mi
Some oaths cannot be broken. The thought tumbles in my mind. “It is true. The consequences can be dire when breaking a promise. An oath is sworn with your life.” Theia warns. “A witch is nothing without her word. Our whole existence is built upon the truth that words are powerful and have meaning. A covenant is an agreement, but an oath is a solemn promise. Breaking an oath is not a simple undertaking. The consequences of such actions can be catastrophic and change who you are entirely. To break an oath is a choice of darkness. Embracing the worst that this world has to give.” Asteria chimes in. “Last night, for me, was filled with dreams and nightmares. They don’t even all make sense to me at this point. A mix of my memories, and what I assume the two of you were seeing.” I say. I made an oath to the King, but I would break it in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it and continue to keep my head. Are oaths really oaths if you are under duress? Or is that simply fealty, a forced
I hear a soft rapping at my door. I tear myself from the sheets like a petulant child, stomping towards the doorway. The warmth of my bed calling to me. I don’t think I’m ready to be shoved into a bath and corseted into a gown. I feel as if I have not even shut my eyes, let alone gotten any rest. “I’m coming.” I say, in a decidedly grumpy voice. I put the most sincerest grumpy tired face expression that I can muster, and open the door. “What?” The hallway is empty. I cannot even hear distant footsteps of maids and servants performing their daily task list. A list that starts the moment their eyes open and does not end again until they close. The realization washes over me with shame. I think back to the endless hours, scrubbing dishes, scrubbing floors, standing over hot stoves. I looked to my arms to see all the faint scars I have accumulated over my years. Each one with their own story. The time I sliced my hand open or when I burnt myself on the edge of a pot because I wasn’t t
Your highness. I suppose it is better than being a slave, though your name is surrendered just the same. Instead of no one caring to know your name they are forbidden to speak it, it’s traded in for formal titles. This elevation does not bring freedom, rather luxurious chains, forced to follow antiquated traditions. It is not the same as being an actual slave though. To compare it as such is a denigration. A lie. One cannot be both slave and master, though it seems even masters have masters to bow to. The breakfast I consumed without having to perform any labor only underscores my place in the pecking order, now far above the one I used to enjoy. I struggle to enjoy my new position when Dmitry has been left behind. I should rest though. I am to be a bride today. The wedding is less about me and more about the future of the monarchy. The continuation of Malakai’s line through history. I am only the womb used to usher in this future greatness. The wedding itself is largely performat
“Breakfast is already in your chambers.” Phoebe reassures, her delicate hand still clasping mine. “Thank you, Priestess Phoebe. I appreciate your consideration.” We fall into a comfortable silence. The floors of the temple are cold on my naked feet, my soles made soft and delicate by the last month of wearing shoes. I am only steps away from being a Princess, living a fairytale and touring the Kingdom. I cannot help but feel tragedy lurking in the shadows. A beast so insidious, patiently waiting to strike at your most triumphant moment. The climb up the social ladder feels like a climb that ends with me jumping to my death. I breathe deeply and allow the sound of our swishing robes lull me into calmness. I am greeted by the smell of breakfast when the door to my room is opened. “Such a feast!” I squeal like an excited child. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Phoebe scolds. “Then join me, priestess. There is more than enough for us both.”“Thank you, m’lady.”The formalit
Ceres“Papa! Papa! I think I have something!” I squeak. My little body wiggling, unable to control the overwhelming excitement that has washed over me. My tiny childish hands reach for my father, precariously balancing in the small rowboat. “Shhh! Hush. You will scare away all the fish.” He says gently. His heavy hands lovingly placed on my shoulders, calming me instantly. “You have plenty of time to make waves in your life, you need not do it when we are trying to fish.” He gently scolds. “Yes, papa.”“Now, let’s check that line. Reel it in gently but steady, then flick to set the hook.” He demonstrates the process on his own rod. I begin to reel it in, quietly squealing with glee, pulling it in as my father had shown me many times before. Springtime on the lake, learning to live off the land. “You must be able to provide for yourself.” That is what my father would say when I would complain about waking before the sun. Early morning on the lake is what heaven must be like. The w
Theia The air is crisp, the dew covers the ground and little droplets stick to my fur like tiny little pearls. Running in this form is so freeing. I wish it could always be just like this. “Catch me if you can!” I call as I weave through the branches and mossy stones. I do not even see his form, a shadow in the darkness, when he pounces on me and we roll down a small embankment. “Gotcha!” He gleefully remarks. The heat from his body presses against mine and I do not struggle or squirm under him. I am content to be here in his snare. “I didn’t even see you!” “Did you say that you owe me a wish? Do I now have two?” “No! I made no promise of another wish granted. I do owe you one though, so choose wisely.” He looks deeply into my eyes. “Yes. I will have to be thoughtful in what I choose.” I could get lost in his golden orbs. The fire in his stare. His darkness to my light. “We should go. The sun is already threatening to break the horizon. Dawn is here, it is o
Theia “The sun will rise soon.” I murmur. I stretch my legs out lazily. “We can speak of magic some other time.”“Some other time.” Erebus parrots back. His voice slow and lazy, as if considering the next possible occasion. “You are not lying if we agree to keep what has happened between us.” I say, breaking the silence between us. “That is quite literally called lying by omission.” “No, it’s keeping something sacred between us.”“You can dress a sow in silk gown, but that will not make her a Queen. Just because you call it something else doesn’t make it something else.”“Two things can be true.” “Yes, I suppose. That doesn’t mean it sits right with me.”“Oracles are not the Goddess. There is no guarantee that my mark will even look as the book tells it.”“Your optimism knows no bounds.” He quips sarcastically. “We pledged ourselves to one another. This bond is above all others. Period.” I growl, his insistence on calling me out is getting under my skin. No one wants an honest a
CeresDarkness can swallow you whole. The void of nothingness. I cannot even see Theia or Asteria anymore. Their thoughts are shielded from me, yet I can feel the veil thinning. I can feel my resurgence, my resurrection into my physical form. It is coming, I can feel the electricity in the air. “Ceres!”A voice calls to me from the abyss of nothingness surrounding me. I do not recognize the call. It is not Asteria or Theia’s voice calling. No one else should be here. “Come my child, come to my voice.”I have read enough fairytales to be suspicious of mystery voices calling from the dark. Their honeyed calls disguise their horrific intentions. Harpies calling from the cliffs, lulling you to your death. Do such creatures lurk in this place, this in between space, where I have no control? I am just a battered ship being tossed around the sea, only to steer myself into a rocky grave, calling to me so sweetly from beyond my vision. I will not blindly go towards the faceless voice in the
Theia“There is no affection in power. Power consumes all and no price is too high to pay to keep it. Edward may believe that his Grandfather’s love for him is unconditional, but I am not so naive.” Erebus growls. “Any threat to the King’s power will be eliminated. Period.”The truth weighs heavy. Silence settles within the cave. “Will the Immaculate Mother reveal the truth to the King?” I ask after a long bout of silence. “You said it yourself. Information you do not know, but want; is valuable.”“I have not read the myths of this prophecy. The Oracle Chronicle of the First King. I believe that is what the Immaculate Mother called it. Have you or Edward studied this?” “Edward is aware of all the sacred texts of the Kingdom. He has spent his entire life preparing to be King.”“What will he do when he discovers that I am the defender of the faith? Destined to fight in a battle and be the savior of the Kingdom? Will he see that as treason and address accordingly?”“I would like to sa