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Daughter Of The King

[WARNING! Mature Content: Gore, Nudity, Violence, Death. Strong Language.] The gods are dying and their hope lies within their creation to find the dead gods crown. After a long war amongst them, rivaling for power and the throne, the world in which they created for their offspring’s was torn asunder, splitting the four corners of the earth into three continents, and leaving but wastelands and mayhem behind. Where the sick wither and the wealthy prevail, a twisted king rules on a throne of bones and the blood of his enemies; each jewel adorning his crown represented all the lives he’d snuffed, all the peasants thinning, the women soled and devoured by man, of those who suffer from his reign and the gods who stole their most precious necessity: fire and the sun. 

The winters are long. Ash pollutes the skies. And they live without the sun, without fire, only the crimson crescent taunting them from the skies above to remind them that they’re cursed and tossed into an abyss of shadows unless they’re beckoned forth for service. 

But what the gods hadn’t known was, nature had found a way. Whispers amongst the rat ridden streets spoke of pirates who sailed the deep sea in search of the dead gods crown, the ones the last deities of Easthaeven, the world of the immortals, bestowed certain individuals their lethal abilities, weaving their souls to a fate far worse than death until their deed was done.

The Mad king heard, and he forbade piracy for the longest until he realized he wanted a war against the gods, wanted to indulge in the sweet taste of the sun, feel the warmth of fire again. So, he chose to hunt them down, spilling sweet lies past those sinful lips in hopes he could strike a bargain with the pirates whose mother was the sea, the war amongst the obscured waters. Life had never been too kind, and death was a harsher reality than it all. ————————————————————————- The Characters The king of D’treroh’s most beloved daughter is raised and trained in the arts of war. She’s soon to follow in his footsteps in abolishing piracy though she struggles to find who she is beyond everything her father has taught her. But when she is kidnapped by the infamous pirate lord of the Onyx Sea, everything she thought she knew of the world is tarnished. A pirate whose mother was the sea and his family murdered when he was a child only to be sent to slavery, rises and challenges the system. He thinks he is a sword of justice, but in the eyes of some, he is just as ruthless as the king himself. Banished prince of D’treroh is a reminder that his youngest sisters lost their lives too early. Day and night he blames himself, drinks, and wallows in the fact that no matter what he does, his father will never acknowledge him as heir. He does not know whether he wants his father’s acceptance or to take everything his father holds dear so he will be the only thing left his father can glimpse upon and regret before his life bleeds from his eyes and he himself becomes king.

TheLastRemnants · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
170 Chs

No Rest For The Wicked

"You stink. I thought rich people knew what a bath was. " One of the women said, leering beneath the brim of her feathered hat. The other laughed a throaty laugh, spinning two daggers between her fingers as she watched the noble women be pushed into the third level of the ship.

"Guess not." She chuckled and shrugged. "Come on in. Don't be shy. I heard Razmyr's going to parade you nude through the streets anyway."

Strelitzia scoffed.

"And I thought poor people knew their place-" The woman on the left rose her knee and rammed it into her stomach while her fingers caught into the burgundy locks of the noble before knocking her elbow against her temple.

Ray'ven broke away from her guard, moving quickly and grabbing the woman's arm and twisting it backwards until it snapped. She cried out, and her sister punched Ray'ven in the nose while she was distracted.

"You bitch. Touch her again." She growled out while popping her sister's arm back into place. She ignored the soft whine and glared Ray'ven down. Steam tendrils lingered within the air from the large, wooden tub.

Ray'ven glared right back. "The same can be said to your bitch of a sister. Next time I will break her neck and then, I will break yours."

Strel touched her cousin's shoulder and shook her head. "That's enough. They aren't worth it."

"You must be used to all your dreams coming true. I watch over the kitchen, I'll be sure to season your foods tastefully. Remove your clothes and get the hell-"

Her sister stomped in front of Ray'ven and tore her clothes from her back, then flung her face first into the warm water of the tub. "Sorry. What can I say? The bitch stank and had a filthy mouth."

Ray'ven rose from the water with a glare before smirking as they stared. "What's the matter, jealous that your flat tits can't get you a man?"

"Again. So used to being a noble. Pirates aren't too classy and prissy. I ride dick every day. It calms me and prepares me for battle." The blonde one said.

"You mean your hairy sister's prick? I thought she seemed quite masculine." Ray'ven snarked.

"Razmyr picked a fun one this time. Go get him. Take the other girl to the other room for her to bathe peacefully since she's respectful." The older, brown haired one said.

The blonde nodded and took Strelitzia out by the wrist. "Let's go."

Moments later, Razmyr stepped inside. "What's this about you not bathing right? Did you want me to step in and bathe you, princess? Were the girls not good enough? Perhaps you knew if you acted up, I'd come and tame that wild side of yours, Hm?"

The moment he entered, Ray'ven backed away and sank deeper into the water with a glare. "No, your people thought it prudent to abuse my cousin, so I broke her arm." She said, blushing as his gaze roamed over her nude body.

He nodded his head at what she'd said. "Of course. I'd expect no less from the daughter of Ja'ule." Razmyr closed the door behind him, his arms folding behind his back as he kept those cerulean eyes on her, lingering far too long to say he planned on leaving. He said nothing. Just silently staring.

"Why do you stare? Have you something to say?" She snapped, feeling embarrassed.

He still said nothing, only the left corner of his mouth curling upwards into a taunting smirk.

Ray'ven turned her back to him, covering her chest with her arms. "Has no one told you that it is impolite to stare at a lady while she is undressed?"

"I'm a beast when it comes to a lady. But a woman, I may consider turning around for. Nevertheless, because of your bad temper and malicious nature, I'm here to babysit." Razmyr replied, drumming a soft beat on the wooden door behind him. "Is there anything else you'd like to ask, princess?" He spoke, an undertone of bitterness.

He had other things that were more important than watching over this woman. When it came down to handing out chores, surely he'd make sure she would sleep when it was a quarter past midnight. That's how long it'd take her to finish her work. The woman would be too worn out then to escape let alone run her mouth as much as she currently did.

Ray'ven let out a huff. "Will you please turn so I can bathe at least? I will not try anything." She told him, shifting in the water until only her head was visible.

"And what if I want to admire your beauty?" He replied. "Nothing wrong with that, though I will destroy that beauty in the end. I'll be sure to paint it so I can remember after I kill your father."

Although he had said what he'd said, he turned around and faced the door, silently, allowing her to continue bathing.

Ray'ven peeked over her shoulder to make sure that his back was turned before allowing herself to bathe completely. She couldn't help the soft sigh of content that left her as she scrubbed off the grim from her skin. Dunking her head under the water, she scrubbed her long hair, removing the dirt and oil that had built up in it before resurfacing.

Once she was positive she was completely clean, she looked over to make sure that Razmyr was still turned away before stepping out of the bath, keeping her back to him all the while.

She made her way over to the small area that held a drawer along with a set of clothes and a towel. Taking the towel in hand, she began to dry off, pulling her long curtain of hair over her shoulders to dry it, shivering when it left her back exposed to the cool air.

Razmyr turned at the waist until his gaze landed on the princess back, old welted scars and whip marks of what leaned more on torture than accident by the way that crisscrossed one another.

To say she was of royalty, she nearly had as many scars as he. Silently, he faced the door once more before she could catch his eyes on her.