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You ran your fingers over the intricate beadwork of the dress, observing how the patterns sparkled in the sunlight.
Every tiny pearl was stitched with such precise attention to detail, you imagined the seamstress must have spent countless hours on this piece.
Standing before the full-length mirror, you saw yourself in a gown of extraordinary elegance, but the face looking back at you was not that of a joyful bride.
“Do you think the rumors are true? That King Sylus not only commands dragons, but can transform into one himself?" Tara leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially as she worked. She stood behind you, your loyal handmaiden since childhood, skillfully parting your hair and weaving each section into braids.
"Quiet!" Jenna, the Head Wardmistress, cut in abruptly, her eyes wide with alarm. “You’ll curse the whole chamber talking like that!”
You closed your eyes tightly, attempting to quell the nervous flutter in your stomach.
From a young age, you had been regaled with the tales of the Kingdom of Onychinus, notorious for its cruelty and the formidable power wielded by its people.
Soon, in just a matter of hours, you would become theirs, eternally bound to their King.
Tara tried to stay silent, pressing her lips together, but the corners of her mouth twitched with anticipation. "My cousin swears she spotted one flying over the eastern mountains last night," she said eagerly. "She said its eyes shone like molten gold."
A chill crept up your back.
"They’re real?" you asked with a tremor in your voice.
If Onychinus truly possessed such formidable and terrifying mythical creatures, it would explain how they so easily defended your homeland against the relentless threats from the Kingdom of Ever.
"That's enough!" Jenna snapped, her voice cracking the air like a whip. Her hand shook slightly as she made a familiar gesture over her heart, a customary sign to ward off bad luck. She leaned down to tend to the draping of your gown. "We should not speak of such things, not today of all days."
"Perhaps the stories have been embellished," you suggested uncertainly, casting a glance at Tara and Jenna for reassurance. “Maybe His Majesty is more benevolent than his reputation suggests.”
However, the matching looks of unease etched across their faces swiftly crushed what little hope you had managed to summon. They, too, believed the King to be wicked and fearsome.
Jenna stood upright and retrieved a small vial concealed within her sleeve. She pressed it into your palm, the glass cool against your skin.
"Keep it hidden," she instructed, her voice low and tense. "I had a pocket sewn into your skirts... just here." She directed your hand to a discreet seam near your hip.
You looked down in confusion. “What is this?”
“A soothing balm,” Jenna explained, somber. “It's infused with herbs to alleviate pain. Should it be needed, tonight."
You stood paralyzed, feeling as though a bucket of ice-cold water had drenched your heart.
Tara had already shared with you what had been passed down from one handmaid to another—how their mistresses described their wedding nights as one of the most harrowing challenges a girl might face on her path to womanhood, second only to the agony of childbirth.
All you could do now was pray that the King might show you some mercy when he claimed you, on the very night you were to be taken from your kingdom and stripped of your rights.
Your vision blurred. You blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes.
"Thank you," you managed, tucking the vial into the folds of your dress.
Jenna moved nearer, gently cupping your face in her calloused hands. “Be strong, my little one," she said, her eyes shining with both pride and sorrow. “Whatever you must face outside these walls, never forget—you will always remain the Princess of Lindora."
A sharp ache bloomed in your chest, and you threw your arms around Jenna, clutching her tightly. This would be the last day she served you, and you wondered if you would ever see her again. In the future, would you have the freedom to visit your birthplace, if you wished it?
"Tara will be accompanying you to Onychinus," Jenna stated, her gaze flickering between you and Tara sternly. "Trust each other. Protect one another. Promise me that."
“If His Majesty suddenly sprouts wings and tries to roast her at the altar, maybe the vows will be forsworn, and we can remain here,” Tara quipped, attempting to break the tension.
Jenna’s nostrils flared in outrage, yet a surprised laugh escaped you.
Tara was testing her limits, knowing full well that today was her final day under Jenna's strict supervision. By tomorrow, they would be strangers in a foreign court where old rules no longer applied.
“Young lady!” Jenna admonished. “You do not —”
Her reprimand was halted by a sharp, insistent knocking on the door that reverberated throughout the room.
“It’s time,” Jenna said, her voice now soft.
·𖥸·
Your feet carried you forward on their own, with Jenna and Tara walking in sync beside you silently.
Their expressions were serious, eyes locked forward, resembling a ritual escort for a sacrificial lamb.
You supposed that was an apt comparison, given the circumstances.
Your small procession wound its way through the palace gardens, following the familiar path toward the temple.
It was here, among the scent of blooming jasmine and the muffled sound of the marble fountain, where the last memories of your grandmother lingered—her hand in yours as she lay in the grass, her voice soft and fading with each passing season as illness stole her strength.
You wondered, fleetingly, if Onychinus had gardens as beautiful as these.
As you approached the great arched entrance of the temple, you caught sight of your father waiting outside.
"Father!" you cried, abandoning all pretense of protocol as you ran the last stretch across the lawn.
He caught you in his arms without hesitation, pulling you into a fierce embrace. His hands settled on your shoulders, rough and steady, and you noticed the lines on his forehead seemed deeper, the silver streaks in his beard more prominent than you remembered.
"My dove," the King of Lindora addressed you, his voice thick with grief, "I would give anything, everything, to spare you this."
You struggled to swallow past the lump forming in your throat.
"Yes, Father," you whispered.
You understood the sacrifice he was making; he was giving up his only daughter, choosing his kingdom’s survival above all else, as a true king must.
"I am proud of you. So proud," he said, bowing to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.
"And I am proud of you, Father," you answered.
He gave a faint, bittersweet smile and then turned to offer you his arm.
You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow, and together, you stepped through the great doors of the temple.
A hush descended over the gathered nobles as you stepped into the hall.
The music, soft and poignant, then swelled to fill the air, delicate notes plucked from the harps and flutes.
You kept your gaze fixed on the polished marble floor, too afraid to look up, too afraid to see the faces watching you, as your father guided you forward.
With every step, your skirts brushed against the ground, catching on the scattered petals that lined your path. The aisle seemed endless before you, stretching farther and farther with every heartbeat.
Your father's arm stiffened under your touch as he came to a halt. He had carried you as far as he could, and now it was time for him to let you go.
Alone now, you stepped forward, your heart hammering against your ribcage as you compelled yourself to look up.
There, at the altar, stood the man who would soon be your husband.
King Sylus of Onychinus.
Clad in imposing black armor layered under robes of deep crimson, he stood still and statuesque, his silver hair like moonlight against obsidian. His eyes, the color of dusk, met yours.
There was no fire. No wings. No fangs. No monster.
Just him. Waiting. Watching.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you stood rooted to the spot.
Rumors had painted a picture of a cruel and unattractive King with a beastly visage. You had all but braced yourself for some twisted thing dredged from a nightmare.
But nothing had prepared you for this .
He was young. Far younger than you had imagined of a seasoned ruler.
And he was handsome . Devastatingly so. Striking in a way that made your heart stutter, savage and beautiful all at once.
Had there been some mistake? Had they brought the wrong man to the altar?
You startled when he moved.
King Sylus extended his hand toward you, palm up, waiting.
“Your Highness,” he spoke, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily through the vaulted chamber.
You hesitated, your wide eyes darting to your father, who gave you a small, steady nod in encouragement, his jaw tight with emotion.
Your fingers trembled as you placed your hand in that of your new King’s, and his grip, though firm, was gentle.
Without a word, he led you up the final steps to stand at his side before the alter.
The High Priest, robed in heavy white and gold vestments, lifted his arms and spoke. “Before the eyes of the Divine, and under the sacred laws of the Kingdoms of Lindora and Onychinus, we gather here today to witness the binding of two souls in an everlasting vow of unity and protection.”
The priest continued speaking, but focusing was nearly impossible for you.
The burden of your destiny felt heavier on your chest in front of a crowd, making each breath you took more labored and shallow.
Dark spots clouded your vision, and a surge of dizziness threatened to knock you off balance.
King Sylus bent his head toward you, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. "Breathe," he said so softly only you could hear. "You are doing well.”
You whipped your head up to look at him, but before you could say anything in response, he had already straightened, his expression composed, attention fixed dutifully on the High Priest.
"Let this crown be set upon the bride’s brow,” the High Priest declared, “so that all may know her as the rightful Queen of Onychinus, sovereign consort and protector of the realm."
A young acolyte dressed in red and gold bowed deeply as he presented a velvet cushion. Upon it rested a crown of gold adorned with diamonds that caught the light and scattered it in every direction.
Inhaling slowly, you gathered your composure as King Sylus shifted beside you. He raised his hands to gently lift the crown from its pillow, and his eyes met yours again, steady, searching.
He did not move to crown you.
The temple had fallen into a tense silence, and you could feel the weight of a hundred gazes upon you.
You prickled with confusion as the King stood motionless, the crown poised high in his grasp, until you discerned that he must be waiting for your assent to proceed.
Nonetheless, you were nothing but a promised bride, it was not like you could refuse.
You gave a subtle nod and bent slightly, prompting King Sylus to finally lower the crown onto your head, his touch feather-light.
The metal lay cool against your skin.
"Henceforth, let her be named Queen of Onychinus," proclaimed the High Priest, “bound in faith and loyalty to her people, and to her King. You may seal your union before the gods."
Seal the union with a kiss—your very first kiss—right here and now, before the gods, before the nobles and your elders, before your father.
You could only stare at King Sylus, panic locking your limbs in place.
He stepped in closer, closer than he had at any point during the ceremony, until you could feel the heat of his body wrapped around you.
One of his hands rose slowly, deliberately, towards your face, fingertips grazing along your jawline and tilting your face up to his. The other hand rested on your waist.
"Look at me," he directed.
Your gaze, which had instinctively dropped to the floor in trepidation, lifted to meet his. As your eyes roamed over his features, you realized he was so near that you could see a slender, silvery scar at the inner corner of his right eye.
"May I have the honor of this kiss, my Queen?" he asked.
His question jolted you back to the present, a reminder that you had a duty to uphold.
This was more than a mere kiss; it was the beginning of what lay ahead for you under the guise of this evening's rites.
"As it pleases Your Majesty,” you replied, your voice measured and composed.
Something shifted over King Sylus’s face, a flicker of disappointment, perhaps, or understanding, before he mastered it, his features smoothing once more.
You remained still as King Sylus brushed his lips against yours in a kiss so brief, it barely stirred the air between you. There was no pressure, only a whisper of contact, over before your mind could fully register it.
A low, resonant gong sounded from the far end of the temple, and the High Priest lifted his hands once more. “The union is witnessed before the Divine, and their vows are bound in the sight of all. Let the realm give thanks and rejoice! The King and Queen shall now withdraw to fulfill the Sacred Rite of Union, and thus complete the covenant ordained this day. And let the court retire to the Great Hall, where a feast awaits, so that we may honor this day with celebration and song!”
At his proclamation, a chorus of cheers and applause broke from the gathered nobility, and the musicians struck up a triumphant, soaring anthem, music filling up the space once more.
King Sylus turned to you and extended his arm in invitation. "Shall we?”
You placed your hand atop his offered arm, and together, you descended the marble steps, the eyes of the court heavy upon your backs, the music and clamor of celebration ringing in your ears.
Everyone else will laugh and drink their wine, toasting love and fortune, but you were to be paraded into a bedchamber with a stranger.
Without thinking, you tightened your grip on his arm.
You let King Sylus take the lead, following him back through the lantern-lit gardens and into the winding marble corridors of the palace. He seemed to know the way well enough, navigating the halls that led toward the guest suites reserved for the royal envoys of Onychinus.
The sounds of the cheers and chatter faded behind you, the music dimming to a distant hum until only the echo of your footsteps filled the vast, empty halls.
"You wear the crown beautifully," King Sylus said at last, his voice measured in the silence.
You startled slightly. "Oh. Thank you," you replied, the words awkward and hollow in your mouth.
You told yourself not to be moved by his courtesy.
All you had to do was endure, fulfill your duty, and then be done with this day altogether.
Finally, King Sylus halted before the largest door at the end of the corridor, where two masked guards stood at attention.
"Welcome back, King Sylus!" they said cheerfully, in unison.
With the masks covering their faces, you couldn’t quite determine what age they might be, but boyish energy radiated off them.
"And a grand welcome to our new Queen of Onychinus!" one of them declared with an overly dramatic bow, nearly toppling over.
"You’re even lovelier than the King described," the other added brightly. "And he described a lot. "
"Don't be nervous," the first stage-whispered. "Our King’s a big, old softie underneath all the brooding."
"Wait until you hear about the time he—"
"Luke. Kieran," King Sylus cut in smoothly. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t have to. The authority in it snapped both boys to attention like guilty puppies. "Just open the door."
You blinked, stunned. What were these two doing speaking so freely to their king? You had assumed such behavior would have been met with swift and merciless correction in Onychinus.
But the King, while visibly exasperated, merely exhaled a slow, silent breath.
The boys snickered quietly as they hurried to obey, shoving open the heavy double doors with a bit too much enthusiasm.
You stepped inside, casting a baffled glance back at them. Were they guards? Attendants? Jesters?
You weren’t sure what they were supposed to be, only that they seemed spectacularly bad at their jobs. Still, there was something oddly familiar in their behavior that reminded you of Tara: loyal, shameless, and utterly immune to the weight of ceremony.
The thought warmed you, at least a little. If nothing else, you were certain they would all get along.
The doors closed behind you with a soft thud, sealing the two of you alone in the vast, cold room.
King Sylus walked over to a sideboard and uncorked a bottle of dark wine, pouring himself a glass.
"Don’t mind them," he said over his shoulder, his voice dry with the ghost of a smile.
"Oh, it’s all right," you answered, eager to brush it off. "I don’t mind, really. They seem... comfortable with you."
King Sylus let out a low laugh. "Is that your diplomatic way of saying they're hopelessly insubordinate?"
"No, not at all," you said quickly, unwilling to risk their punishment. Then, awkwardly, you added, "Um... are they the ones who'll be listening to confirm the consummation has taken place?”
They appeared a bit young for such duties, but then again, just shy of twenty, you were young too.
King Sylus, who had just taken a sip of wine, immediately choked, coughing into his elbow at your words.
He hastily placed the glass aside and wiped his mouth, giving you a look you couldn’t decipher. "Consummation?" he half-scoffed.
"Yes?" you replied uncertainly, puzzled at his reaction. "The Sacred Rite of Union? It must be completed now, before sundown."
The King dragged a hand down his face. "Is that why you've been trembling since the moment you first saw me?"
You recoiled slightly, stung.
The King sounded frustrated with you. Was your nervousness so obvious that it irritated him?
"I haven’t been... trembling," you said stiffly, lifting your chin in defiance. "It’s only natural to be nervous. But I am prepared to fulfill my duty to you, Your Majesty."
He raised his hand to interrupt. "We’re married now. There's no need for such formalities. Call me Sylus.”
You hesitated but complied. "Alright... Sylus."
He moved toward you, his steps deliberate but not threatening. "Do you know why I asked for your hand in marriage?"
Instinctively, you took a step back, but forced yourself to stop before you could retreat any farther. "To settle our debts," you answered cautiously as he closed the space between you. "In exchange for Onychinus’s continued protection."
"That’s... one way you could look at it, I suppose," Sylus remarked, taking your hands and gently guiding you to a nearby velvet-upholstered settee.
You perched tensely on the edge of it as you braced for whatever explanation would come next.
"It’s true," Sylus continued, settling beside you, “that our protection has been quite costly. And yes, my motivations are not entirely selfless. If Ever were to gain control of Lindora’s resources, they could easily raise an army strong enough to challenge Onychinus.”
You bit your lip, nerves fraying, but forced the question out. "And so what’s stopping you from taking our resources for yourself?"
Sylus gave a short, rueful laugh. "Ah. There’s the heart of it."
He leaned back slightly, his expression almost melancholic. “You could say that the Kingdom of Ever’s desire to subjugate and exploit weaker kingdoms goes against my own personal code. Of course, there is no reason for Lindora to trust my word. As you may already know, there seems to be a lack of… trust between our kingdoms.”
You wanted to protest, to defend your people, but you knew you couldn’t. After all, hadn’t you grown up believing Onychinus harbored a realm of monsters?
“The people of Lindora are fearful and distrustful of Onychinus,” Sylus admitted. “My attempts in the past to rectify the situation have proven futile. I thought marriage might offer a different path. A bond between our two kingdoms that could not be so easily broken.”
"Oh," you said, feeling impossibly small under the weight of his words.
It made sense, more than anything you'd heard before, really. Lindora had accepted your doomed fate far too easily, behaving as if the refusal to send their princess away would result in the downfall of their entire kingdom.
"I didn’t seek this marriage to take something from you. I sought it so we might build something together as partners. Allies." He paused, his voice firm but not unkind, before clarifying, "I want a queen by my side. Not a frightened girl in my bed."
His words hit you like a slap.
"I am not a frightened girl!" you blurted, heat rushing to your cheeks.
"I meant no offense," he said, chuckling, hands raised in mock surrender. “You’re more like… a fiery little kitten. Claws out and ready to hiss.”
Your mouth dropped open in outrage, which only made him laugh harder.
But his amusement faded quickly, and he spoke with seriousness. "I did not bring you here tonight to make demands of you," Sylus said. "I know appearances must be maintained, so I thought we might at least come here. Sit together, share a little wine, speak plainly. Get to know one another. I apologize if you were given the impression otherwise."
The floor seemed to shift slightly under your feet. This wasn’t at all what you had prepared yourself for.
His offer sounded kind. Disarmingly so. It would have been easy, dangerously easy, to accept it.
But you knew you could not.
"I appreciate your... consideration," you said carefully. "But if the marriage is not consummated this night, it may be declared null. We should simply... see it done."
Sylus observed you silently with an inscrutable expression before asking, "Have you ever lay with a man before?"
"Of course not!" you said, appalled. “I’m a princess ! It would be an insult to offer a king anything less than a pure bride!”
"Kitten," Sylus sighed, and you bristled at the nickname sliding from his lips with maddening ease. "You lack experience, and I am not exactly a small man.” A faint, almost mocking smile tugged at his mouth. "If we were to simply ‘see it done,' as you say, you would not be ready for me. Not even close."
"I mean—" you stammered, flustered at the mention of his size. “Is that not the point? They’ll expect proof. If there’s blood, they'll know the act was... completed."
A muscle in Sylus’s jaw ticked. “Who told you that?”
“I—I don’t understand,” you said, growing agitated. “This is a sacred rite. This is how it is supposed to go.”
"If anyone demands blood, let them take it from me," Sylus said, his voice sharp with disdain. "That is old-world cruelty dressed up as tradition. I will not see you suffer to sate a thirst for spectacle."
"Sylus," you said urgently, fear knotting in your stomach. “If there’s no proof—no blood, no witness, no sign—our marriage isn’t binding. The elders will accuse Onychinus of deceit. Of forcing a false union. That’s how wars are born."
"I would not allow that to happen," Sylus said with certainty, brushing aside your concern. “The crown rests upon your head. The vows have been spoken. You owe no further proof—to me or to Onychinus."
You turned to him fully, emotion burning at the back of your eyes, and caught his arm before you could think better of it.
“If we don’t go through with this... if the marriage isn’t consummated, it won’t just stain the alliance. It will stain me ,” you tried to explain. “I’ll be the one they talk about. The princess who made a fool of your kingdom.”
Your throat tightened painfully, but you pressed on. "I don’t want to be a disappointment. I don’t want to be the reason everything falls apart. This is supposed to be the beginning of trust between our kingdoms, right? Well, this is a sacred ceremony of my people and should be respected as such.”
Sylus caught the hand you had clutched against his arm. For a moment, you thought he might cast you off, but instead, he simply cradled your hand in his, his thumb tracing slow circles across your skin.
“Completing the rite will make you feel as if your marriage is whole?” he asked quietly, his gaze falling to where your fingers intertwined.
“Yes," you said at once, grateful that he had listened to you.
He lifted his head, meeting your eyes with a steady look. “Then we shall see it done," Sylus decided.
The tension you hadn't noticed building up in your body suddenly dissipated, and you squeezed his hand in thanks.
" But ,” Sylus warned, squeezing your hand back. “You’ll have to be a brave little kitten. Can you manage that for me?"
You swallowed hard under the weight of his stare and nodded.
Sylus shifted, reaching behind him to retrieve the wine glass he had abandoned earlier. He studied it, turning it slowly in his hand, debating some unspoken thought.
At last, he pressed the cup into your hand. “Here," he said. "Drink a little first.”
You stared down at the dark liquid swirling inside. You had never tasted wine before.
"Why?" you asked, your voice uncertain.
Sylus didn't respond immediately, instead letting his fingers graze the back of your neck. Instinctively, your shoulders snapped up, your body tensing at the sudden, unfamiliar contact.
His thumb pressed lightly into the hollow where your neck met your shoulder, and you felt your muscles twitch beneath his touch.
"You’re tense," he observed, a note of regret in his voice. "It will be easier for you the more you relax. Drink only if you wish, and only as much as you like.”
He withdrew his hand, but the imprint of his touch lingered, leaving your skin tingling in the cool air. Rising smoothly to his feet, Sylus moved to the far side of the room, opening a line of tall wardrobes along the far wall.
You watched in curious silence as he rifled through them, finally pulling out thick, heavy quilts and sheepskin throws. One by one, he laid them down on the floor before the fireplace in a soft, layered nest.
"What are you doing?" you asked, lifting the cup to your lips, peering over the rim as you took a tentative sip.
The wine fizzed lightly on your tongue—sweet, crisp, and bright. You had never tasted anything like it before, but found to your surprise that you rather liked it.
"It’s a bit chilly in here, don’t you think?" Sylus said, nodding towards the empty hearth. "I thought we might lay by the fire. It’s a touch informal, and perhaps a little romantic."
You supposed it was—at least, more romantic than anything you had expected tonight.
"But the fire isn’t lit," you pointed out, glancing at the darkened grate.
Sylus, still dressed in his finery, dropped to one knee before the fireplace. He cast you a sidelong look. "You think your husband doesn’t know how to light a fire?"
From where you sat, it wasn't clear what he did exactly, but it seemed as though he just brushed his fingers against the kindling, and within moments, flames crackled to life, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow.
"See? Perfectly capable," Sylus grinned at you triumphantly before he kicked off his boots and dropped down onto the quilts with a satisfied sigh.
He made quick work of his armor, the polished plates falling away with soft, metallic clinks. Next went his heavy outer robe, shrugged from his broad shoulders and tossed aside without ceremony.
You watched unabashedly, sipping your wine as he moved with an easy, unhurried grace, until he was left in nothing but a soft white tunic clinging to the lines of his chest and simple slacks.
The drink was already working its spell, warmth curling in your belly and softening your senses. Emboldened by the pleasant haze creeping into your mind, you drained the last of your cup, set it aside, and slid down from the settee to join him at the hearth.
He watched as you sat down beside him and tucked your knees beneath you.
“Would you like me to take your hair down for you?” he asked.
“Oh!” you exclaimed, caught off guard by the offer. “If you’d like.”
Sylus repositioned himself behind you, drawing you into his lap with ease. You stiffened for half a breath, but the slow, patient way his hands moved soon coaxed you to relax.
Carefully, he removed the crown from your head, his fingertips brushing against your temples as he set it aside. One by one, he found the pins hidden in your braids, easing them free.
As his fingers unraveled the braids, he told you, " A crown suits you, but I think I prefer this."
You gave a soft huff of laughter, trying not to be flustered so easily, but your fingers twisted nervously in your skirts all the same.
Once the final braid was undone, he ran his fingers through your hair, combing it loose.
You shivered as your hair seemed to breathe a sigh of relief from being tightly bound.
He swept your curls over one shoulder, and his hand glided down your back, following the curve of your spine through the fabric of your dress, stopping at the snug laces of your corseted bodice.
"May I?" he asked.
Your cheeks felt hot, and you were sure he could see the flush spreading down your neck, but still, you found your voice. “Yes, please.”
He tugged on the knot at your waist, loosening it with a deft pull, and you heard the rustle of fabric as the ribbons slipped free. An unsteady breath escaped you as the bodice slackened, the gown slipping slightly from your shoulders, and the air caressing your newly exposed skin.
Sylus smoothed a hand back up your spine, steadying you, before leaning in to press a kiss to the curve of your shoulder.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"A little," you admitted, the words small between you.
Your fingers were still gripping your skirts when Sylus reached over to gently release them. Taking your hand in his own, he eased you down onto the nest of quilts.
Sylus positioned himself above you, one arm braced beside your head, his body a shield of warmth and strength, holding himself just shy of touching you.
He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles lightly brushing your cheek. "That’s all right," he reassured. "We'll go slowly. There’s no rush.”
A mix of relief and fluttering excitement swirled in your chest as you nodded in agreement, the gesture almost childlike in its sincerity.
A relaxed smile appeared on Sylus's face, and he dipped his head toward you.
His lips met yours properly this time, moving over them with careful, savoring slowness.
"You taste like honey," he murmured against your lips, before kissing you again.
The kissing was pleasant and not at all intimidating.
At the altar, you’d been anxious about your first kiss, unsure of what to do, but now, lying pliant beneath Sylus’s mouth felt surprisingly natural.
His hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the soft curve of your cheek as he deepened the kiss little by little, coaxing you to open to him.
His touch moved downward, tracing your throat and the ridge of your collarbone, until reaching your shoulders and the edge of your slipping gown.
He pulled the sleeves down, and the slip surrendered easily under his hands, sliding down the curve of your waist, the silk pooling around your hips and leaving you bare from the waist up.
With a small gasp, you crossed your arms over your chest.
An affectionate laugh rumbled through Sylus’s chest. “You’re not allowed to be a shy kitten tonight,” he chided.
He moved to grasp one of your wrists, but the instant you recoiled, Sylus paused, leaving his hand suspended in the space between you.
"Easy, sweetheart," he said, his hand finding your hip instead. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid!” you insisted, feeling embarrassed.
In a bold display of courage, you unfolded your arms from your chest.
Every one of your muscles was drawn tight with tension as Sylus’s eyes dragged shamelessly over you, slow and heated.
“Offering yourself up so sweetly?” He asked, dark and pleased, as his fingers ghosted along your ribs, almost tickling. "How could I possibly say no?"
His thumb flicked lightly over your nipple, causing your body to jolt in surprise.
Without warning, he dipped his head and closed his mouth over your nipple, sucking with firm pressure. As you let out a soft whimper, he grazed it lightly with his teeth, a tiny, teasing bite, before letting it pop free with a soft, wet sound.
"Ow—!" A cry slipped from your lips as you felt your nipple harden in the air, the skin feeling almost painfully tight.
"If just one little bite makes you cry out in pain," Sylus mused, his hand spreading warmly over your lower belly. "What’s going to happen when I have you properly laid out for me?"
“S-Sylus,” you stuttered, reaching up blindly to clutch at his shoulder—a desperate plea for him to come back to you, to kiss you the way he had before, slow and sweet.
He understood immediately. With a low, soothing hum, Sylus leaned back over you, catching your mouth in a kiss that was gentle and patient.
“I'd love to kiss you for hours, kitten, but we can't stop here,” Sylus said regretfully.
You let out a small whimper as he sat up once more, unsure if it was from fear or desire.
His hand moved to your lower abdomen, fingers gently slipping under the fabric that clung to your hips. "Will you let me see?"
Summoning your bravery, you reached down and pushed the fabric over your hips.
Sylus maintained eye contact with you while he took charge, pulling the gown down your legs.
You automatically lifted your leg to assist him, and just as you were about to lower your foot after the dress was removed, he caught your ankle in his hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss against the curve of bone.
His lips traveled slowly along your calf, up to your shin, past your knee—continuing upward, closer to the sensitive area of your inner thigh—
Your hand flew out, pressing against the crown of his head to stop him.
"Wh-what are you doing?" you demanded.
Sylus looked up at you through his eyelashes, smiling. "Kissing you," he answered, while his hand slid up along your thigh to your backside.
He was deliberately being cheeky.
"You would... kiss me there?" you questioned, unsure of any other way to express it, your face burning hot.
Sylus's smile grew more wicked. "I'd kiss you all over, darling,” he replied. “Anywhere you're sweet.”
Your fingers tightened in his hair as you suddenly comprehended his intent. This was something no one had ever mentioned to you—not even Tara, and she told you everything.
His nose skimmed the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, inching closer to the space between your legs.
He spread your thighs apart for better access, then nestled his nose in between your folds.
Inhaling deeply, he said, “I imagined you’d have a sweet scent. I wonder if you taste like honey here as well.”
"Sylus!" you objected. Attempting to close your legs proved useless as his body was firmly wedged between them, preventing any escape.
Sylus began kissing your intimate area with the same fervor he had shown when kissing your mouth, leaving you both captivated and a bit self-conscious as you watched him.
Using the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance all the way up to your bud.
“I knew you’d taste divine,” he said hungrily.
“You’re lying,” you immediately accused.
Sylus paused, arching an eyebrow at you as though you were the one being absurd.
"But you're like honey, and this is where your nectar comes from,” Sylus said seriously.
You were rendered speechless and frozen, unsure of how to respond.
Sylus merely laughed at your expression of disbelief, placing his hand on your mound and gently rubbing your clit with his thumb. You involuntarily twitched at the sensation.
“Have you ever touched yourself, kitten?” Sylus asked. “What do you like?”
“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I—I’ve never—”
Sylus frowned slightly, and you instantly regretted your words.
"I'm sorry," you attempted to clarify. "It's just that it wasn't exactly something that was encouraged, and I—"
“There's no need to apologize, sweetheart,” Sylus said, his hand still occasionally stimulating your clit, sometimes stroking up to your belly.
"You seemed upset," you said.
"Not at all," Sylus responded. “There will be a bit of a learning curve for both of us as you adjust, so I want you to let me know if there's anything you don't like, alright? Don’t be afraid to speak up."
“Alright,” you agreed, snuggling back into the quilts.
Sylus then resumed his actions, gliding his tongue in a flat upward sweep from your entrance to the sensitive swell of your clit.
He continued licking in that motion, his saliva creating a wet, slick sound.
Though his actions were hidden from view, you could feel something attempt to penetrate you.
Initially, your body resisted, muscles tensing in response, but the warm, rhythmic motion of his tongue created enough of a distraction that his probing finger easily found its way in.
He began to move his finger, sliding it in and out, and with each inward motion, you could feel the pressure lifting your walls upward.
“How does this feel?” Sylus lifted his head to ask.
As he moved in and out without the use of his tongue, the sensation intensified, causing a sharper burn.
"It's a little uncomfortable," you said, your face contorting slightly.
He nodded, understanding. “Do you prefer it like this,” you felt him adjust the position of his hand, “or like this?"
When he entered you once more, he met less resistance, and though it still wasn’t entirely pleasant, there was a subtle improvement.
“What did you do?” you asked curiously.
“Turned my hand upside down," he commented, carefully observing your response as he continued his movements. "Now my knuckles are facing up. Tell me which way is more comfortable for you.”
"This, this is much better," you said, wondering where he even learned such techniques.
"Good girl," Sylus praised, and the unexpected compliment caused your brain to momentarily shut down.
His rough, textured tongue resumed its gentle message, brushing against the sensitive edges of your slick folds.
Suddenly, each deliberate stroke of Sylus’s tongue caused your raised leg to jerk unconsciously. Sylus maintained a gentle pace, but your leg began to shake harder without your control.
You became acutely aware of the warmth enveloping you, and tiny beads of sweat began to form, adding a sheen to your already flushed skin.
Your heart raced wildly, pounding with such ferocity in your chest that it echoed in your ears.
“Sylus, what’s happening?” you slurred.
“It's alright, sweetheart. Just relax.” Sylus's voice sounded distant, as if you were submerged underwater.
“No, I’m scared,” you said.
You felt as if the world was closing in around you, and an overwhelming sense of dread gripped you.
"Just relax and let it happen."
The heat where his tongue was made everything unbearable, and an unexpected urge to pee—
“No!” you shouted, shoving his head away in a frantic attempt to make it stop.
You scrambled to sit up, your heart in your throat, as you tried to steady the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
Gradually, your vision sharpened, the blurred edges of the world settling into clarity as you saw Sylus had come to sit next to you.
"Sylus," you pleaded, though you weren't certain what you needed from him.
"It's alright, kitten,” Sylus soothed as he wiped away the sheen of sweat that clung to your forehead. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"What was that?" you asked, bewildered.
Sylus frowned softly, a crease forming between his brows at your question. Although he likely already knew the answer, he still asked, "You've never felt that before?"
You shook your head, a wave of frustration washing over you at his enigmatic demeanor. You had already confessed your ignorance several times tonight. “No, I—I don’t know, I—”
“Easy now. You’re alright,” Sylus interjected, rescuing you from your exasperated stammering. “You were just close to having an orgasm.”
“Oh,” you said, eyes wide and round in surprise. “Oh, that—that was an—that’s what that was?”
“Everything you felt is all completely natural,” Sylus said, as he squeezed the flesh of your thigh with a possessive grip. He then leaned in closer, as if confiding a secret, and whispered, "And trust me, there’s nothing to be afraid of—they are exceedingly pleasurable."
“I—” Mortification colored your cheeks at the ignorance of what an orgasm entailed or how it might manifest. The experience had been so overpowering, the only comparison you could draw was to the onset of a panic attack. "I don't think I can—I don't know if I want—"
You wondered if Sylus would force you to have an orgasm.
"There's no need to feel pressured," Sylus said. “Your pleasure is not a test you must pass. Tonight, we’ll simply focus on helping you be as comfortable as possible.”
Feeling relieved, you nodded. “Thank you, Sylus.”
“Would you like some more wine?” he offered.
"No, no—If I drink more, I’m—I’m afraid I’ll… pee ," you said with a grimace, lowering your voice for the last part.
Sylus’s attempt to stifle his laughter was barely successful, a small chuckle escaping before he turned away slightly, coughing into the crook of his arm.
"Alright, darling,” Sylus said as he schooled his expression back to seriousness with impressive speed. “I appreciate you sharing these things with me, even though I know it is difficult for you.”
“Yes, okay,” you said, a little miffed at his laughter.
Sylus crinkled his eyes at you. “Do you like kissing?” he asked.
You felt the rosy blush again that you couldn't hide. “Yes,” you said shyly.
“I like kissing you, too,” Sylus said.
“I wish we could only do that,” you confessed.
“We can,” Sylus's large hand found its way to your hip. “We can stop here and just do this for the rest of the night. I would enjoy it as well.”
“I…” you trailed off.
You wished you could, but the weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon your shoulders. Your father, Tara, Jenna, Zayne, and countless others were relying on you to fulfill your role as the newly crowned Queen of Onychinus.
"I have to uphold my duty, Sylus," you reminded him.
To Sylus, your traditions and customs might seem trivial or archaic, but you hoped he could understand the depth of your commitment to your kingdom.
Sylus grasped your hand, and placed a soft kiss to the back of it. "Then I promise to uphold my duty as your husband, to care for you, and to protect both you and your kingdom,” he vowed.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed into his crimson ones. Up close, you noticed they had a faint glow. Was having red eyes common in Onychinus? In Lindora, they were certainly unusual. You realized that you might have once found red eyes intimidating, but now, they appeared more beautiful than frightening.
Sylus captured your lips in a lingering kiss as he raised himself to a kneel. In a fluid motion, he tugged off his shirt and began to untie the drawstring of his soft linen pants. He leaned back over you, positioning himself between your legs.
His fingers intertwined with yours, guiding your hand with a slow, deliberate motion over the sculpted planes of his chest.
You could feel the firm, well-defined muscles beneath his skin, taut as your hands traveled down to his hips.
He brought your hand to cup his manhood, the heat and pulse of him vivid and undeniable.
“I desire your touch as well,” he said.
You fumbled awkwardly for a moment, your fingers hesitantly exploring before you gave him a tentative squeeze.
Unsure of his expectations, you followed his lead with his hand over yours, initiating a slow, purposeful motion that you mimicked.
Your eyes widened in astonishment as you felt him grow within your grasp.
The spongey, warm tissue seemed to swell swiftly, its girth increasing, prompting you to adjust your grip to accommodate its growing size.
"You’re huge," you said as you took in the sight before you—how could something so large ever fit inside your body?
Even the touch of just one of his fingers had already left you sensitive and overwhelmed.
“I believe I did offer fair warning,” Sylus said. His eyes fluttered shut, his expression serene as he silently encouraged you to apply more pressure by closing his hand around yours more tightly.
“Has no one told you how lovely you are?” Sylus breathed out.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you said, bashful, glancing up at his naked form.
His chiseled chest seemed to gleam in the flickering firelight, casting shadowed contours that accentuated every muscle. If you had to lose your virginity to someone, you supposed, surely no one could surpass the man in front of you.
“You’re lovely, too,” you added.
Sylus laughed sincerely, a melodic sound, before leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips.
As he pulled back, you sensed the subtle shift in the atmosphere.
Sylus spat into his palm, and slicked it over himself; then, you felt the pressure as he positioned himself at your entrance.
“Kitten,” Sylus spoke seriously, his red eyes fixed intensely on yours. "Breathe with me, alright?"
"Okay?" you said, confusion threading through your voice as you struggled to grasp his intention.
Sylus drew in a deep breath and you mirrored his actions, expanding your chest as you inhaled with him.
Together, you exhaled slowly.
As you took in another deep breath, an unexpected, violent sensation shattered through your core.
White-hot, searing pain erupted within you, something within your entrance was being mercilessly ripped apart from the inside.
You gasped in shock, the breath you had been holding expelled in an abrupt rush, leaving you reeling.
Instinctively, you tensed up, your muscles tightening like coiled springs, and you lifted your lower body in a desperate attempt to escape the electric current.
Sylus caged you in with his arms, trapping you and holding you in place.
“I know, I know it hurts, kitten,” Sylus crooned. Every thrust sent ripples through your body, causing you to writhe beneath him as he inched in deeper. “Just keep breathing with me. We’ll go gently.”
You fought to match your breath with his, but each time he withdrew, a noticeable drag lingered, followed by a fleeting moment of relief before he thrust forward again. A burning sensation coursed through several rings of muscles as your body actively tried to expel him.
Desperation clawed at you, and you shoved against his chest. “I—I can't—"
“Yes, you can,” Sylus insisted. “You’re taking me so well, kitten.”
It felt as though he was rearranging your insides, each movement pressing heavily against your bladder and other sensitive organs, and your face twisted with pain. His size was overwhelming, almost impossibly so.
“It's alright to cry. You can let it out,” Sylus encouraged.
The cry you had been suppressing finally broke free, emerging as a pitiful, strangled sound.
"I'm scared," you whined, your voice quivering as tears began to spill over, glistening in trails down your cheeks.
Sylus leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry, kitten. Just stay with me like this for a little longer.”
You nodded, a silent agreement, as your weak whimpers were involuntarily pushed from your lips with each of his deep thrusts.
The initial sharpness of the pain began to dull, although it never fully disappeared, and the feeling of tearing had finally eased, leaving you with a newfound openness, an acceptance of him.
As the intensity waned, you found yourself able to focus on the steady rise and fall of your breath.
“Just like that, keep breathing for me, little kitten,” Sylus praised. “You’re being so good for me.”
His voice provided a welcome distraction from the discomfort, and his praises were achieving their desired impact, warming you from the inside out. You weren't sure if you'd ever truly felt aroused before today, but you could feel him moving with more ease, as things became increasingly wet where the two of you connected.
Just as you began to convince yourself that this all wasn't as terrifying as it first seemed, a searing sensation reemerged as you felt Sylus growing inside you.
Was he getting bigger ?
“Sylus!” you exclaimed, alarmed.
"I know, I'm sorry," Sylus said, urgency lacing his words as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You promised to be a brave girl, remember?”
“No,” you protested weakly as he increased his pace.
Overwhelmed, you began to push against his chest, your hands trembling as you attempted to repel him, yet he remained utterly unmoved.
"Sylus, please," you begged, your voice broken. “It hurts.”
“Nearly there,” Sylus grunted, jaw clenched and muscles taut. He caught your struggling hand against his chest and held it firmly. “I promise.”
Your inner walls gripped him like a vise, each involuntary contraction a raw, intense friction, like the rough lick of sandpaper.
Another feeble cry escaped your lips as he fully sheathed himself within you, his hips rolling in short, sharp thrusts. Each grinding motion had him bumping against your cervix, a sharp, acute sensation that left you gasping.
Sylus let out a deep, guttural groan, reverberating through the room like the low rumble of distant thunder.
Finally, he stilled, his movements coming to a gradual halt.
You could distinctly feel the head of him pulsing inside you, a rhythmic throb that echoed your own heartbeat.
He remained atop you, his body twitching slightly with aftershocks as he pressed closer, his head nestled into the curve of your neck.
You drew in a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with air.
Sylus sat up slowly, and he brushed your damp hair away from your face, concern etched in his expression, “Kitten.”
"It's—it's over?" you managed to ask, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "Did you—?"
"It's done,” he said, and with that assurance, your body relaxed, tension melting away as you released a final, relieved cry.
“You did well, kitten. You were so good for me,” Sylus said, his thumb gently sweeping away the stray tears that had escaped down your cheeks.
"I'm going to pull out now," he cautioned.
You braced yourself as he withdrew, the slick squelch loud enough to send a flush of embarrassment rushing through you one last time. You winced as your pussy, now swollen and tender, made one last effort to hold onto him as he slowly pulled away.
Sylus watched your reaction intently, guilt unmistakably written all over his features.
For the first time, you reached up to touch his face, gently outlining the shape of his jaw.
He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as he nuzzled against your palm.
“I didn’t want our first time to be hard for you,” Sylus said.
“You don’t have to carry guilt for something I chose,” you said, your voice carrying a newfound confidence, prompted by the need to lessen the burden of Sylus's remorse.
“I am your King now,” Sylus stated simply. “It is my duty to shield you from all manner of pain.”
Gratitude swelled in your heart, for it was Sylus's care and patience that had transformed the experience into something bearable.
“You did shield me," you assured him. “All in all, the entire affair was not that bad, I should think."
“Not that bad?” Sylus clicked his tongue in disappointment. “That is...” He paused, laughter bubbling up in his chest, and shook his head with a grin, “quite possibly the lowest rating I have ever received.”
"No—wait!" You scrambled into a sitting position, struggling with the messy pile of blankets wrapped around you, eager to clarify. “I just expected it to be much worse.”
Sylus blinked.
“So your expectations were already on the floor, and I managed to stumble over them with minimal injury. Splendid,” he said.
You groaned, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Hmm,” Sylus pondered, eyes glinting. “Then allow me to make something perfectly clear,” he leaned in closer, voice dropping. “From this night forward, I fully intend to exceed ‘not that bad’ by leagues. You will experience pleasure beyond anything you've ever known. I won’t allow you to escape from the feeling next time. That,” he concluded, “is the standard I expect to be judged by.”
Your breath caught in your throat, his words leaving you utterly disoriented. The things he was saying were unlike anything you had ever heard before, stirring emotions within you that you didn't even realize existed.
A dampness seeped from your core onto the sheets beneath you.
And then, as if awakened from a dream, you remembered: you were very much naked.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes flickered left and right for something to wear.
Without a word, Sylus reached for his shirt, draped at the edge of the sofa, and placed it over your shoulders. “There,” he said, his voice now stripped of any hint of teasing. “Better?”
You nodded, your gaze dropping as your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, pulling it close to your body. “Thank you.”
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, lowering himself to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to pretend if you’re not.”
"I... I believe I'm alright," you initially said, although you couldn't ignore the persistent throbbing of your swollen folds, leaking all over the blankets where you sat. "A bit sore," was all you admitted.
He hummed sympathetically, yet there was no surprise in his eyes, already anticipating your response. "I can send for something," he suggested. "A warm bath, to soothe your muscles. Or a salve, if you feel it's necessary."
Your face lit up at the mention of a salve.
"Oh! My Wardmistress gave me something!" you said, the realization dawning. "It’s in my dress. She told me to hide it."
"Hide it?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?” He turned, retrieving your discarded gown, which lay off to the side crumpled but still shimmering in the dim light.
"I don't know, I—" you started, trying to piece together the fragments of advice you had been given, struggling to make sense of it all. "I just listened without truly understanding, I suppose.”
He ran his hand across the fabric, feeling through the layers, searching until his fingers closed around something small and round. He unbuttoned the concealed fold and pulled out a tiny glass jar, sealed with waxed cloth and tied with a string.
“This?” he asked, raising it up for inspection.
“She said it was soothing oil,” you said, recalling Jenna’s words.
Sylus tugged the covering off the jar and a subtle, herbal scent wafted up between you. Dipping his finger into the pale balm, he inspected its smooth, silky texture.
He then brought his finger to his lips and tasted it.
“What are you doing!” Your hand shot out to stop him, but the deed was already done.
He appeared completely unconcerned as he pressed his tongue lightly to the roof of his mouth, his brow furrowing in thought.
"It's a numbing salve," he remarked. "Quite potent, actually. It won't cause any harm—it will certainly alleviate any pain. A bit exshessive, in my opinyun.”
"But why did you put it in your mouth?" you asked, noticing his speech starting to slur. "What if it harmed you?"
"Den we’d fuhnd out before ushing it on you," he said matter-of-factly. He turned the little jar between his fingers. “Woul’ you like me t’apply it for you?” he asked.
You giggled at his attempt to stay serious despite his slightly jumbled words. This man was ridiculous.
Upon reflecting on his proposal, you realized you had never tried inserting anything yourself before.
“I… I think I would appreciate that,” you said.
Sylus settled himself once more between your legs. Now that the heat of the moment was gone, you found yourself turning your head to the side, unable to watch as you exposed yourself.
He dipped a finger into the jar, ensuring it was thoroughly coated, before easing it in, and you couldn’t suppress a small jump from the soreness and the chill.
“Alright?” Sylus asked.
“Just a bit cold,” you responded, steadying yourself.
“I’ll be gentle.” You felt his finger begin to move in deliberate circles around your inner muscles before he slowly withdrew his finger. He cleaned the residue off on the sheets and set the jar aside.
Sylus leaned back a bit, his gaze lingering on you, observant yet not overbearing.
For the first time since the wedding ceremony, you felt a sense of calm.
The big, daunting moment had passed, and you had finally met your husband. He seemed kind, genuinely kind, even more so than you had dared to hope for.
“Is your tongue alright?” you asked.
Sylus chuckled, "I've survived worse enchantments. Fast metabolism.”
There was a jest hidden in his words, but your mind only lingered on the fact that someone somewhere had once meant him harm. This thought now disturbed you.
Silence enveloped the room, and you were unsure where to look or how to break the tension.
Your fingers absently curled around the edges of the sleeves of Sylus’s shirt you wore.
“What would you have me do now?” you asked.
“This evening belongs to you,” Sylus said. “You did well. More than well. We can do anything you’d like.”
Your first reaction was to scoff at his words. Anything? Surely not.
“I wish I could’ve gone. To the banquet. Instead of… this,” you said sourly, but as the weight of your admission hung in the air, shame crept in behind the honesty. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Sylus didn’t appear offended. If anything, his expression grew even more understanding.
“You're entitled to feel that way,” he said. “You’re being taken from everything familiar to you, thrust into a world no one truly prepares for. And there’s a party happening right in your backyard, for heaven's sake.”
That comment drew a small laugh from you.
"It looked beautiful. Everyone seemed so happy. I wanted to dance among them. And eat cake," you said wistfully. "But queens do not indulge in cake on their wedding night, do they?"
"Well," Sylus considered, brushing his knuckles down the length of your arm. "Would Her Majesty still wish to attend?"
You turned to him with a start, “Now?”
“Why not?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips. “There’s still time. The music won’t have stopped yet. And I’m certain someone saved a slice of cake.”
"But… everyone will know,” you said. “That we… you know ."
Sylus laughed hotly, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. "Everyone will know regardless, my dear. That’s the point of the whole affair, isn't it?"
Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson. You supposed he was right. Everyone already knew what was to happen in Sylus’s chambers tonight.
“You’ve earned it,” he insisted. “You deserve to satisfy your wants for the remainder of the evening."
“Very well, then,” you decided, “I think some cake would suit me.”
Sylus grinned at you.
“Then cake it is.”