Dragon Princess Free (Patreon)

The men in white robes surrounded Forja on all sides, and one by one, they began to break her bonds. First the physical, and then, the magical. For the first time since she had come to the Elven Kingdom of Grandleon, Forja no longer had the powerful drain on her mana that had rendered her helpless like a kitten apart from its mother.

With a vapid, vacant smile on her face, Forja faced the skies for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and breathed fresh air.

"Do you feel better, my sweet wife?" the elven king, Borick, asked.

Drunkenly and with a giggle, Forja answered slowly, sitting up on the slab she had been defiled in. "Yes..." she said.

"Yes what, my wife?" Borick asked.

"Yes I feel better... I feel amazing... in fact..."

Forja hummed. 

"I FEEL INCREDIBLE!"

Her wings burst into their full glory, in a flash of fire and mana. Depowered, emptied, weakened, beaten, they could not BREAK HER! Her fire burst from the tiny little flame it had been reduced to into a raging, powerful inferno! The lack of mana was hardly an issue, after so long being forced to endure the powerful drain, her body surged as it took in the environment's mana, and most importantly, drained the mana from the ritual and the big fat load of royal cum still within her.

Indeed, the elven king's own excess and hubris would be the tool she used to regain her power as quickly as possible!

Her tail whipped and grew to its proper size, angrily smashing the slab behind her to pieces. The divine power that charged the ritual that was meant to bind her was hardly a substitute for her draconic mana, but it would do, as she roared and allowed her energy to run free at last!

"H-How!? HOW CAN THIS BE!?" Borick screamed. "What is this!?" he continued, as Forja began to laugh and the wind was whipped up into a frenzy, panic breaking out at his jumped up ceremony.

"It's justice, brother," Boricker said, eyes narrowed. "You went too far, Borick! I could not sit idly by and watch you defile a beautiful creature in the name of greed!" he shouted, striking a dramatic pose as he pointed his finger at his brother. "I could not withstand this farce, this disgusting and pathetic reach for power!"

Forja roared. "KIIIING BOOOORIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!" she screamed, half scaled arms grabbing at the King's lapel, as she burst into motions so quick nobody saw her even move, screams erupting into a cacophonous chorus as the formerly imprisoned dragon princess finally broke out of the last of her bonds, mental and physical.

"Please, Forja! I beseech you, honor our deal!" Boricker begged, dropping to his knees. "You promised!"

Forja roared in Borick's face. "CAST HIM DOWN FROM HIS THRONE! BURN HIS CROWN!" she screamed, a half hand, half claw reaching for the elven King's face. She was almost big enough now to cover his face with her hand, and the screams of the Elven King filled the air as she marked his face with her heat, a wound that would never stop burning, a pain that he would never forget.

The curse of an angry, vengeful Dragon, the mark of shame that would accompany the King for the rest of his life, a symbol of his  actions.

Forja then let the King fall, and the moment he hit the ground, bouncing slightly, she raised her scaled foot and then slammed it down on his crotch. She knew he would no doubt be healed from this wound, but it gave her an intense, visceral satisfaction to destroy the tool that had been used to torture her.

"ELVES!" she screamed. "BEHOLD AND KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING, AND FEAR HIS FATE FOR IT WOULD BE YOURS!" she roared, the high nobility of the kingdom, those who hadn't fled in fear or horror, and the ones who knew that attempting to flee from an enraged dragon would just result in dying tired, had their big ears snap to attention.

Boricker prostrated before her. "Please! Please, mighty one, please find mercy in your heart, they didn't know, they followed a King who told them this was the will of the gods! Please, have mercy, and spare us your flames!"

Forja's wings spread and she, now more than half transformed into the mighty form that brought fear and terror to the hearts of all mortal beings, a dragon beyond even other dragons. Weakened, tarnished, defiled, her scales still shone the color of ruby, her eyes blazed with unquenchable flame, her spirit burned infinitely.

She was as majestic as she was terrifying, as beautiful as she was deadly. Truly, she was an expression of destructive power given form.

Boricker looked upon her, as her wings brought her into the sky with a single flap, and as she did, she glared down at the ancient temple that would have bound her to his brother.

Something flicked in the back of Boricker's mind, and he snapped into action. "EVERYBODY! FLEE! RIGHT NOW! ESCAPE THIS AREA! QUICK, GRAB BORICK! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

Forja's wings made a terrifying cracking sound and a shockwave heralded her rise in height, as she cleared the height of the clouds and went beyond. Boricker forced the last of his people out of the temple, clearing it out entirely, as Forja came back down, bringing with her storm clouds that covered the skies, blackening a ring around her starting directly over the temple, but quickly spreading over the capital.

It was the judgment of a dragon, her punishment upon the elves for her captivity.

And yet, as he looked up at the mighty dragon, Boricker did not feel fear.

Forja opened her mouth, and a torrent of fire, nay, a torrent of raw elemental power, burst from her opened jaws, from her throat, and poured down into the ancestral temple to the elven gods.

It made landfall, and the next thing he knew, Boricker, who had been too close to ground zero, woke in the rubble that had survived her attack. Most of the mountain was gone, a hole carved into it that made it look more like a volcano, as it collapsed in on itself little by little. The castle was structurally unsound.

Fires were being put out all over the surroundings city, and the incredible devastation brought upon by the dragon's rage was only coming into his mind little by little, as Boricker regained his hearing.

No one had died, from her attack. No, their punishment was symbolic. She had destroyed the means through which they had sought to bind her. She had humiliated their king, as he had humiliated her. She had spared his life only because of his younger brother's pleading.

She had broken the symbol of the elves' strength, and in its place, elevated the weak brother, whose foresight and kindness had earned them their lives...

And everybody knew it. Everybody knew that Boricker had been the one to save their lives from the foolishness of their King. As Borick was cast down in shame, stripped of his titles and his power...

Boricker was the one who burned the crown of the King himself, and the one who would forge the much simpler, significantly less ornate, golden circlet that would serve as the King's symbol of power from now on.

Boricker addressed his people as their King, denounced his brother's greed and the sin that he had committed, claiming that it was such a great sin that the elven gods had forsaken their people.

"But we are not lost! Even the Great One we insulted saw hope in us, saw the possibility for redemption! Citizens of Grandleon, my people, we may yet regain the favor and trust of our Gods!" Boricker said, raising his fist to the sky, "we must abandon the decadent and sinful ways of the past, and correct our course! It is not too late, we may yet be saved, and I will see our transformation, I will see to our salvation! You can believe in me, for I believe in you!"

Raucous cheers from the people who knew him only as the Prince before, but the savior of all Grandleon now, erupted. 

King Boricker smiled upon his people, and after pleads from the most high ranking nobles and officials of the country to stay the course, it was time to end the crowning ceremony and the accompanying speech to the people... and to end the day. It had been hard, heavy and tiring, but finally, he could retire to his bedroom.

The big lonely bedroom that had once been the room where Borick, now imprisoned in the dungeons, had once taken many a woman to. Boricker'd had almost everything in it replaced, as was the custom when the crown passed heads, but most importantly... Boricker had a special kind of window, with a mana signature lock, installed, dominating a large part of his wall.

As he laid down to rest on his lavish, comfortable bed, closing his eyes...

Boricker felt the wind rush through the window, and the weight of someone resting on his bed.

"Did you plan it all from the start?"

Forja's voice was... quite a nice thing to hear.

"Would you prefer the truth, or a comfortable lie?" Boricker asked, eyes still closed.

"I'd prefer the truth," the Dragon Princess asked. "I believe I deserve it, after all I was put through."

"I was winging it from the word go," Boricker answered, allowing himself a smile, then opening his eyes to focus on her. "I was trying to save my brother from your rage, save my kingdom from your clan's rage..."

Forja raised an eyebrow. She was as nude as the day she was born, she had nothing to hide from the Elven King, after all. "And me?"

He looked at her. "I said I wasn't fit to be King. I don't have the heart to be cruel, in the end..."

She hummed, then laid down on the bed beside him, wings and tail vanishing into her body as she did. "Maybe that's the sort of King this place truly needs..."

"And if I ever need a hard, flaming fist to slay my enemies?" Boricker asked, turning to face Forja.

Forja placed a hand over her still flat belly. "Well... we're in this together for the time being," she said. "And when the time comes... we'll figure out how to proceed. You're a smart guy, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"You would trust me that much?" Boricker asked. "After all of... that?"

Forja hummed, then, in a single motion that defied the laws of physics, threw herself so she sat on Boricker's crotch. "Yes," she said, simply. "You came through, in the end. Here I am, still me, still alive, after all that..."

Boricker gulped, feeling himself grow a little bit hot under the collar, so to speak, his body's memories of the many times he had spent trying to make sure that Forja was indeed pregnant running through him.

Forja gave him a lewd grin from above, showing perhaps a bit too much teeth. "And I've taken quite a bit of a liking to elven meat," she said, "so you better keep me satisfied, or I may just have to go on a rampage."

"What a terrible fate," Boricker said, dryly, "oh the horror!"

She laughed, freely, unrestrained, and for the first time, happily. Boricker thought she was beautiful, then, and decided that he might as well face the future with his head held high.