All Is Fair In Love And War (Patreon)

There was a major ceremony and parade, as the Future Queen's carriage was taken through the capital city's main street, which lead directly to the entrance to the palace, where her soon to be husband awaited. People came out to meet her, as she was shown to the people.

Of course, many expected a slight, feminine and dainty maiden, a waif even. When the people had been introduced to her, after all, she had been named Her Royal Highness Princess Priscilla, and many a grand and tall tale had been spread across the land, by the voices of bards and minstrels and drunkards alike, each of them telling of her beauty, naming her the fairest of the land.

So it could be said to be quite a shock, when instead of some demure wilting flower, as had been the painted image, Princess Priscilla was instead a warrior, dressed in ceremonial armor. 

Let it not go unsaid that her beauty was incomparable, but she was certainly no helpless princess.

In fact, Priscilla was anything but. She was a warrior, and a great one in fact. It was said that she alone was worth an entire platoon's worth of men, that each swing of her halberd cleaved the lives of ten men, that each strike of her mace sundered a dozen shields, and that she could break a shield wall with a single lance charge, outrunning her own cavalry.

Well, at least, those were the stories. She certainly had the muscles to prove her status as a warrior, as her armor left her legs from her thighs down to her ankles, and her arms from her biceps down to her wrists, bare for all to see, revealing her powerful muscles.

Her skin was an almost bronze color, and she had lines from her actual battle armor marked on her body, tinted with the lighter color that she'd once had. Her eyes were sharp, her brow furrowed. It was quite obvious she was unhappy, despite the fact that her father beside her looked to be trying to salute the people as they cheered for their new queen's arrival.

And that would only be the start. The Emperor was a large man. Enormous, even. Well known for being a beastly and brutal warrior, on and off the battlefield. Nearly twice as tall as any normal man, and three times as wide, his hunger for conquest and lust for battle were only matched by the might of his Empire.

Indeed, it was the Empire's own relentless expansion that had brought about this union.

Priscilla's father was the King of a small nation, one without a military of note, a peaceful country that didn't see much in the way of war, but with one fatal problem that would haunt them, for its land was rich in resources, and it was the sniffing of several rivals, those who were joining up in an act of resistance against the ever growing Empire that had prompted the King to look for allies.

And who would be a better ally, than the strongest, and most powerful, country in the world, with its mighty military?

For all of Priscilla's own might and power, she could not win a war on her lonesome. Even if she was worth a hundred, nay, two hundred men even, she was just one, and would fall before the might of the Empire's hundred thousand strong standing army, let alone its rumored total capacity of half a million troops.

And so the King had been forced by circumstance to buy his country a better fate, a more favorable annexation, by offering up his beautiful and strong daughter up for marriage to the Emperor.

The Princess was delivered, by the King's own hand, to the Emperor, who awaited for her at the altar. Though she had refused to wear a wedding dress, it seemed that few, if any, found offense in her for this. The Empire was a militaristic nation, it seemed like they saw it as a sign of respect for this.

Or so the rumor went, at any rate. 

At the end of the day, after the grand and massive celebration, the Emperor had retreated to his bedroom, his newlywed wife in hand. 

Priscilla, if she were to be honest, would admit to being impressed by the opulence of the palace. It was a place rich in wealth, but also in history. Weapons of the most fine make were used to decorate the halls. Paintings, depicting the Empire's great victories, its famous generals and soldiers of renown. 

Treasures of the Emperor's own battles.

She followed behind the mountainously huge man, resigned to her fate. There was little she could do, she had dedicated her life to protecting her country, but her power as a Warrior had never been enough. Thus, today she was to become a woman, and serve her country that way.

The Emperor had taken one look at her, and given her a nasty grin that had sent shivers down her spine. She'd heard tales, of course. Tales of his lechery, said that he had once gone in a mad spree and taken the maidenheads of a hundred young women. Tales of his brutality, that said he crushed his enemies and sent their shattered remains to their families. Tales of his greed, that spoke of him ransacking entire countries for a single item he had liked.

It was obvious that his own people feared him, as everyone was incredibly nervous, shaking and flustered whenever they served him. She'd been unfortunately stuck at his side, and every time a servant girl approached, they would be like a leaf in a storm, unable to raise their eyes to meet either Priscilla's own eyes, or to look their own Monarch in the face.

It was a terrible knowledge, to know she'd bear the brunt of such a man's lusts.

Finally, after what seemed like a slow eternity, but still too fast for her liking, they had arrived at the bedroom.

For just a moment, Priscilla contemplated the knife strapped to her inner thigh. Contemplated using it. On herself, on her husband, she didn't know. 

"Alright," the Emperor said, as he entered his bedroom.

It was as ridiculously opulent as any other room in the palace, but a hundred times more... comfy.

It was weird enough to say. She had half expected skulls on pikes, cages with young women in states of degradation, paintings of massacres, maybe even a bloody axe hanging on a wall.

She had expected she'd be taken to a dungeon, and made to forcefully perform her so called duties as a wife and queen...

And yet, it was a surprisingly normal bedroom. Well, if you discounted the humongous bed, which made perfect sense when one considered the tremendous size of the Emperor.

The Emperor walked in first, and despite herself, Priscilla followed. Her duties to her Kingdom, that would become a province soon, bid her to take that one step, no matter how final it felt. No matter how much it felt like she was stepping into a precipice, and how much it felt like she was about to take a step that could not be taken back, she stepped into the room, and the door made a soft click behind her as it closed.

The Emperor moved with purpose, and his bed creaked and groaned as he sat on it, already beginning to divest himself of his cloak and crown, chuckling darkly before throwing them all away.

She looked at him, trying to project the fact that even as she was about to engage in this, she would not give in. She would do her duties, and help her kingdom...

"No matter what happens, no matter what you do to me, I came here to protect my Kingdom. As long as you do that, as long as you ensure that my people and my home will be protected from the enemies around us, then- then you may do with me as you please."

The Emperor blinked, his dark eyes looked into hers.

"So go ahead. Ravish me. Ravage me. Destroy me, utterly and completely. I am nothing more than a woman now, as this is the best way I could-"

"Yes I'm going to be stopping you now," the emperor said, waving his hand. "Look, girl, I get it, you didn't want a political marriage. Probably had some boy, or girl I don't judge, out there who you wanted to marry. We're aristocracy, we don't marry for love, it sucks, get used to it," the Emperor said.

It was Priscilla's turn to be confused now. "I... what?" she asked.

"What did you think was going to happen in here?"

Priscilla couldn't prevent the heat that rose in her cheeks, nor their slightly darker tint as she averted her eyes. "I- I don't know," she said, "I expected you to force yourself upon me!"

The Emperor scoffed. "Had I wanted to do that, I would have simply conquered your country and taken you by force, wouldn't I?" he asked. "What I want is a partner," he said. "I want a strong woman, in both mind and body. I want someone who is willing and ready to do her duty, and to sacrifice herself for her people and her country," he said, raising his arm and then clenching her fist. "I want a worthy empress, not a body to warm my bed!"

"I... I'm so confused," Priscilla admitted. "Why- why not court me normally, then?" she asked.

"I'm ten and a half foot tall, six hundred pounds and my face has been unfavorably compared to a particularly mangled pig," the Emperor spoke. "I may be a fat man with a dream, but I'm not delusional."

"That's still-" Priscilla sighed. "Ugh, that's not how I expected today to go..."

"Do you WANT me to ravish you?" the Emperor questioned.

"Yes? No? I don't even know anymore!" Priscilla complained, placing one hand on her face as if trying to ward off an incoming headache. 

"If it helps, I do think you are extremely attractive," the Emperor offered.

"The fact that I'm actually flattered by that disgusts me, about me," Priscilla admitted.

"I can imagine that you scare off quite a few men with your strength and power," the emperor chuckled. "Here in my Empire, the greatest and grandest instructors will aid your training."

"You'll- you'll let me keep training?"

The Emperor scoffed. "Emperor Malebolgia's own wife shall be a beacon, to the women of the Empire! A symbol! Your strength should serve to inspire the women of my country, to take up training, and take up arms alongside their husbands!" he said, "I care little for your background, for your gender, for the color of your skin, the length of your ears or the shape of your eyes! I care for the might of your sword arm, for the sharpness of your tactical acumen, for the brilliance of your strategical thinking, for the accuracy of your forethought, and for the strength of your determination!" the Emperor declared, throwing his arms wide, then gesturing towards her with one of them. "And you, Priscilla, are worthy indeed!"

"W-What?" Priscilla took a step back, finding herself against the door.

"I ask you, not as your husband, not as your Emperor, but as a fellow subject of this very Empire, now that you are as much part of it as I am," he said, "will you join forces with me? We are to be husband and wife, we are to be a couple that others can look to, and find comfort. We are to be an example. We need not find love with each other, but to be partners, to serve this country as its leaders!"

Priscilla grit her teeth.

What the hell was going on?

What the fuck was with Emperor Malebolgia?

"Where are the threats? Where is the Emperor who massacred the Onans, the Hammer of the Tsviets, the Crusher of Rebellion, the Insatiable Beast of The East," she asked. "Is this the man behind the rumor? The Emperor who declared war on the world!?"

"Of course!" he shouted. "I will wage war and conquer and make this entire world submit to me, and I will expand my empire wherever I set my eye, and I ask of you to join me in conquest! Not as a slave, nor as a subject, but as a warrior, as an Empress, as an equal!"

Priscilla snorted, then, and cracked, screaming laughter exploding out of her. 

"That's it? That's what this was all about?!" she shouted.

"Yes!" Emperor Malebolgia spoke. "You think my conviction is laughable?!"

She shook her head. "Shit, Emperor Malebolgia, you could've just told me this from the get go and I wouldn't have had nightmares!" Priscilla complained, then she stepped up to the Emperor. "And let me tell you something," she put a hand on his chest, even with her own prodigious height, standing she was about level with his eyes, while he was sat on his bed. "I don't care what you look like, deliver on your promises, and I'll be the greatest damn wife you've ever seen!"

The Emperor's face twisted into a smile. It seemed he just had a bit of a villain face, no matter whether his smile was of evil glee or genuine joy. He then burst out laughing. "So be it then, you'll find that Emperor Malebolgia's word is as good as steel in hand!"

The two joined hand in hand, and shook them firmly.

That said... "I think," Priscilla said, as she looked at her husband, "we're going to have to put off heirs until I'm... a lot more flexible than I am right now," she said, eyes wide and mouth agape as she witnessed the sheer enormity of the task ahead of her, when her husband removed his pants to prepare for bed...