Morava

A Day Back

Pegasii Kingdom

Morava was standing in her room looking at her reflection. Her maids had dressed her in a gauzy, crimson gown that she had designed for herself. The crimson silk shift inside the gown fell to her thighs, leaving her long legs beneath the veil of red. She raked a finger in her curly, sandy brown hair and blinked her red kohled eyes. Her hair was normally so straight that she loved the artificial curls. Her features were just like her mother's. She had a short, perked up nose set over a round face. It was her cleft in the chin and her hazel eyes that were like her father's.

"You are looking very beautiful, M'lady," said her handmaiden, Cynthia, smiling at Morava's reflection in the mirror. It took her entire morning to prepare the princess. Cynthia was a slender girl with narrow eyes and dark hair that was tied in a neat bun.

"I know," Morava replied with an air of haughtiness as she flicked her curls back over her shoulder. It was rumored that she was the most beautiful girl in the two kingdoms. Her rosy lips curled up as she took a deep breath in, and a look of pride etched across her face. She put her left foot forward and Cynthia immediately grabbed her silk sandal and placed it on her foot. She turned to pick the other sandal and Morava kicked her lightly. "Couldn't you get them both together?"

"Sorry, m'lady," the handmaiden murmured as she regained her balance, picked up the sandal and placed it on her other foot.

"Humph! These slaves without wolves!" Morava gritted. "Morons!" She walked out of her bedchamber as the servant hung her head low with her hands clasped in the front. Today she had not been slapped or kicked harshly, so she counted herself lucky.

Morava walked to the official chambers of her father, King Biham. The guard had informed her that he wanted to see her urgently. Morava already knew why he wanted to see her. Her mother, Sirrah, had already informed her that she was going to become the bride of the most powerful king of Araniea. Well, she hadn't expected any less.

"Father," she bowed to King Biham as she entered the chamber. Biham looked up at his only daughter and set his quill down.

"Alpha Alrakis has summoned us," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "He wants your hand in marriage to his son, King Eltanin."

"Yes, Father," she said in a soft voice. This meant that if she ever found her mate, she'd have to reject him. Morava had heard and seen how mates were, but she wasn't concerned, nor did she understand the bond. Her parents weren't mates. Her mother had found her mate and had rejected him, and went on to marry her father. Sirrah had told her that royal families can't be sentimental about their mates because it was not necessary that the moon goddess paired them with the perfect mate. What if the goddess paired them with an omega, a slave? The royal children could never marry anyone who wasn't also royal. They had to marry for purposes of alliances, treaties, or building the strength of their kingdom. Royals could sully with whomever they wished, but they could never have babies outside the royal family. It was not only considered an embarrassment but something that many royals feared to even venture. But some princes and princesses did give into the temptation.

"Get ready. We will start early in the morning tomorrow," said Biham, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Yes Father." She bowed, and was about to turn to leave when her father stopped her.

"You better shed your temper before we leave!," her father warned her with a growl. Morava's temper was legendary. It was as if she didn't have the ability to control it. Arrogant and haughty, there was hardly anyone in the kingdom that she respected other than her father and mother. And why would she? They were all supposed to serve her, right? The only girl who was close to her was Cynthia.

"Yes, Father." she bowed to him again and left.

After having her breakfast, Morava had nothing to do. She went to her favorite place, the training arena, where the best warriors were trained. It was a two story building that was surrounded by tall ash trees with bright bark.

Her handmaiden had followed her. In the training center, there were no more than ten warriors. They all stopped what they were doing when she opened the door. Morava swayed her hips as she walked to the strongest one. Placing her fingers over his sweat slicked, naked chest, and tracing the dust of his hair towards his navel, she asked in a low husky voice, "How are you, Mizvah?

Mizvah's chest rose and fell with every touch of hers. He was the top warrior of Aquila. He loved her and was wrapped around her small finger. "Not so good," he rasped.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. "Do you want to feel better?"

Mizvah caught her wrist. "What do you have in mind?"

She hooked her finger into his breeches, and in a dulcet voice, said, "I might…"

Morava was twenty-five-years-old. She couldn't help but fall in love with the most muscular body that was present in the kingdom. She's had five lovers since she turned eighteen. Well, princesses were of the royal blood, they could have as many lovers as they wanted. They just had to make sure they married the right one.

She tugged at his breeches, and pulled him out of the training arena as everyone watched them. Mizvah couldn't control himself, and he picked her up in his arms and he took her behind the building to a copse of trees.He pinned her against a tree trunk and bunched up her dress. She gasped when he tore her panties off, lowered his breeches and inserted his shaft inside her.

"So impatient," she whispered as she rolled her head back and felt him stretching her. She had instantly become wet.