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Delicate
Brat
- Joined
- Sep 15, 2020
Title: Spoils of War.
Authors: @HeyThereLittleBear @Delicate
Pairing: MxM.
Genre: Non-Con, Humiliation, Feminization, Sex Slavery, Light BDSM.
Setting: Realistic, Medieval.
Authors: @HeyThereLittleBear @Delicate
Pairing: MxM.
Genre: Non-Con, Humiliation, Feminization, Sex Slavery, Light BDSM.
Setting: Realistic, Medieval.
The White Sea's blue expanse stretched across the horizon connecting the Port of Illyeria from the east all the way west to the Island of Blackthorn. On a normal day, swarms of fishermen could be seen on the white sands near the coast, filling up their creels with flounders and halibuts and crabs. The horde would often remain on the coast until sunset and then they would make their way to Xyr's fish market where the heaviest fish would be auctioned to the highest bidders and the smaller fish would be sold on wooden counters or to local restaurants in bulk. Walking into the large marketplace, one would immediately find themselves engulfed within the fog emerging the cooking pots; its aroma of spices often drowning the stench of fish and eel. Seafood was the backbone of the Xyrian diet as nobles and peasants alike dined on creatures that dwelt the sea.
Aethelred watched the empty beach in awe. Its white sands no longer covered by an army of fishermen; they had all dispersed within an hour of the Nordic fleets arrival. Long, white sails filled the waters, and for the first time since long, the White Sea looked white. "My lord, we've closed the gates. Admiral Isilnur gathered the generals and officers in the council awaiting your battle orders". Aethelred dismissed the retainer, sighed deeply, and rubbed his clean shaven chin as he studied the behemoth army amassed in front of him. This might be the end of us all..
Aethelred watched the empty beach in awe. Its white sands no longer covered by an army of fishermen; they had all dispersed within an hour of the Nordic fleets arrival. Long, white sails filled the waters, and for the first time since long, the White Sea looked white. "My lord, we've closed the gates. Admiral Isilnur gathered the generals and officers in the council awaiting your battle orders". Aethelred dismissed the retainer, sighed deeply, and rubbed his clean shaven chin as he studied the behemoth army amassed in front of him. This might be the end of us all..
"Fifty ships, Isilnur. That's a thousand viking warriors. You would have us abandoned the Great Walls of Xyr and sail out to meet the vikings at sea? Have you lost your wits?" General Waltheof slammed on the table. Several generals in the war room nodded their heads in agreement. "We don't have the numbers to match them in open fight" he added and more heads nodded, Aethelred noted. "Numbers aren't everything. We don't have the supplies to last a naval siege. The Danes will block our access to fish and eel, Waltheof, what would have us do? Before long we'd starve out and die within these walls" Isilnur turned to address his prince, "My liege, my spies reported the Danes were no more than five hundred at the turn of summer. We have around eight hundred men at arms. Loyal, faithful, men of Xyr that would die in service of their prince and their God. I beseech you to send me with the royal fleet to meet the Danes at sea. I vow to deliver the heads of their leaders". Voices erupted from all around the war table; those praising Isilnur's courage and other damning his madness merged and boiled inside Aethelred's head tearing his mind asunder. "Enough! Man the ramparts. Keep the crossbowmen on watch at all times. We'll hold position on the castle walls. Waltheof, your orders are to oversee that the gates are barred and guarded. Isilnur, I want your best marksmen on the walls". The voices in the room reduced to a simmer after the prince issued his orders, but several faces still conveyed disapproval and perhaps horror at the bloodbath that seemed inevitable. "Boemon, send a rider to my lord father. Tell him Xyr is in dire need of reinforcements against the pagans". That seemed to douse some of their worries.
"Father Eadred, I wish to pray" the prince ordered and the abbot nodded.
As soon as the brown-haired prince entered the oratory, the attendants quietly dispersed out of the room and left their monarch alone with God. Alone, the prince fell on knees and started praying. Tears freely rained from his hazel colored eyes, watering his rosy cheeks like dew on petals. He crossed his himself and then his hands, then proceeded to whisper his prayers to his God. I am not ready for this. He thought to himself. I am not a fighting man. I'm a scholar. I belong in a library studying tomes and composing books. He promised me the Danes will never attack Xyr. He assigned me to this distant region for that sole reason. Aethelred found his knees shaking with horror. Will he send men to rescue us? I fear his wars in the west will prevent him from sparing the men.
"My lord! The Danes have broken through the gates! Master Isilnur has been slain in battle!". The handmaiden's tears covered her face. Aethelred could see she was shaking and crying, perhaps too drowned in her own terror to notice the tears that ran down the prince's cheeks. "God save us all!" Aethelred replied and got on his feet. How did they make it this far this soon? He rushed out of the small chapel and a ring of his bodyguards formed around him and escorted him to the castle gates. "Fire!" some voice screamed from a distance, and the group of men noticed flames sweeping across the castle walls. "My lord, we need to seek shelter" one of his guards informed him, almost taking charge of the situation while Aethelred watched and nodded like a child. "There is a safe-house in Redwood that is made for such catastrophes. It is an underground shelter where we can hide and await the king's reinforcements". A block of burnt wood fell from the ceiling and landed next to Aethelred, its cinders flying upwards and burning the edges of his robe. "Take me there".
The Redwood district was the northeastern-most in Xyr. The journey to the poorest district in Xyr was a long one, Aethelred was aware. The prince and his entourage crossed the burning marketplace. Hundreds of stores and shops were set ablaze by the invaders, men of both sides fought in the streets while fish flipped and flopped on the counters. Aethelred heard cries of men as Xyrian men were being stabbed and slashed and sliced all around him, their voices ringing in his ear. Smoke filled the air around him. It'd be a miracle if we could find our way out of this bloodbath, but they did. Soon they emerged from the cloud of smoke and crossed the Sunlane Road to Blackham district. The richest and noblest in the country resided here; members of the government, parliament, and prominent heads of clans all lived in this posh district. The fires don't seem to have made it to this part of town yet, but Aethelred could see that the fighting and pillaging extended here. Without a veil of smoke obstructing his vision, the prince could see it all. Men were beheaded on their doorsteps, while women and sheep and pigs were all pulled along the streets to one corner or another. The cries of man and beast intertwined and Aethelred found his legs quivering in terror. What happened at the gates? How did they get this far into Xyr?
Redwood was located beyond the richer district of Blackham. Hundreds of sand huts and straw cabins crammed together in the northeastern corner of the city surrounded by city walls. Every dwelling was no more than a few feet in length; barely enough for a single person to sleep in yet Aethelred's eyes widened in shock when he saw a family of four step out of their humble dwelling to, similarly, gawk at their monarch. I've never been on this side of Xyr, reality dawned on him as he walked further and further into the dark district. The fires were long behind them, and the screams of killing became more and more muffled behind layers of sand houses. Every few neighborhoods the party would cross, there would be a single brazier lit in the middle of the road to fend off the night's darkness, and around each brazier, a dozen frail men laid in circles shivering against the cold. After what seemed like an hour of walking, one of the guards proudly announced that they had arrived at their destination.
"Milord, this basement has enough food and ale to survive the year. We need to seek refuge in there until the King's army arrives to rescue us". The guard explained before opening the bulkhead entrance to the dungeon that'd been built beneath them. The prince entered the damp, dimly lit space and found dozens of familiar faces all hiding there. "The wives, daughters, mothers, and sisters to the generals and government officials were instructed to take shelter here before the battle plans were made ready, your highness, as well as fellow men and women of church." One of the priests explained to Aethelred. He was shown his personal space, given a loaf of bread and a tankard of ale. The sad notion that a massive bunker was made abundant with food for years while his subjects died of hunger and slept on the streets on ground level haunted him.
"Father Eadred, I wish to pray" the prince ordered and the abbot nodded.
As soon as the brown-haired prince entered the oratory, the attendants quietly dispersed out of the room and left their monarch alone with God. Alone, the prince fell on knees and started praying. Tears freely rained from his hazel colored eyes, watering his rosy cheeks like dew on petals. He crossed his himself and then his hands, then proceeded to whisper his prayers to his God. I am not ready for this. He thought to himself. I am not a fighting man. I'm a scholar. I belong in a library studying tomes and composing books. He promised me the Danes will never attack Xyr. He assigned me to this distant region for that sole reason. Aethelred found his knees shaking with horror. Will he send men to rescue us? I fear his wars in the west will prevent him from sparing the men.
"My lord! The Danes have broken through the gates! Master Isilnur has been slain in battle!". The handmaiden's tears covered her face. Aethelred could see she was shaking and crying, perhaps too drowned in her own terror to notice the tears that ran down the prince's cheeks. "God save us all!" Aethelred replied and got on his feet. How did they make it this far this soon? He rushed out of the small chapel and a ring of his bodyguards formed around him and escorted him to the castle gates. "Fire!" some voice screamed from a distance, and the group of men noticed flames sweeping across the castle walls. "My lord, we need to seek shelter" one of his guards informed him, almost taking charge of the situation while Aethelred watched and nodded like a child. "There is a safe-house in Redwood that is made for such catastrophes. It is an underground shelter where we can hide and await the king's reinforcements". A block of burnt wood fell from the ceiling and landed next to Aethelred, its cinders flying upwards and burning the edges of his robe. "Take me there".
The Redwood district was the northeastern-most in Xyr. The journey to the poorest district in Xyr was a long one, Aethelred was aware. The prince and his entourage crossed the burning marketplace. Hundreds of stores and shops were set ablaze by the invaders, men of both sides fought in the streets while fish flipped and flopped on the counters. Aethelred heard cries of men as Xyrian men were being stabbed and slashed and sliced all around him, their voices ringing in his ear. Smoke filled the air around him. It'd be a miracle if we could find our way out of this bloodbath, but they did. Soon they emerged from the cloud of smoke and crossed the Sunlane Road to Blackham district. The richest and noblest in the country resided here; members of the government, parliament, and prominent heads of clans all lived in this posh district. The fires don't seem to have made it to this part of town yet, but Aethelred could see that the fighting and pillaging extended here. Without a veil of smoke obstructing his vision, the prince could see it all. Men were beheaded on their doorsteps, while women and sheep and pigs were all pulled along the streets to one corner or another. The cries of man and beast intertwined and Aethelred found his legs quivering in terror. What happened at the gates? How did they get this far into Xyr?
Redwood was located beyond the richer district of Blackham. Hundreds of sand huts and straw cabins crammed together in the northeastern corner of the city surrounded by city walls. Every dwelling was no more than a few feet in length; barely enough for a single person to sleep in yet Aethelred's eyes widened in shock when he saw a family of four step out of their humble dwelling to, similarly, gawk at their monarch. I've never been on this side of Xyr, reality dawned on him as he walked further and further into the dark district. The fires were long behind them, and the screams of killing became more and more muffled behind layers of sand houses. Every few neighborhoods the party would cross, there would be a single brazier lit in the middle of the road to fend off the night's darkness, and around each brazier, a dozen frail men laid in circles shivering against the cold. After what seemed like an hour of walking, one of the guards proudly announced that they had arrived at their destination.
"Milord, this basement has enough food and ale to survive the year. We need to seek refuge in there until the King's army arrives to rescue us". The guard explained before opening the bulkhead entrance to the dungeon that'd been built beneath them. The prince entered the damp, dimly lit space and found dozens of familiar faces all hiding there. "The wives, daughters, mothers, and sisters to the generals and government officials were instructed to take shelter here before the battle plans were made ready, your highness, as well as fellow men and women of church." One of the priests explained to Aethelred. He was shown his personal space, given a loaf of bread and a tankard of ale. The sad notion that a massive bunker was made abundant with food for years while his subjects died of hunger and slept on the streets on ground level haunted him.
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