A King Needs A Queen - Prologue (Patreon)

So I decided to do something a little different with this one. Instead of releasing one massive story near the end of the month I'll release each installment one after another as separate chapters with a final document containing all of them in one place at the very end. It seemed like the best choice given the deliberately segmented nature of the idea and it'll give me a chance to keep myself from going too overboard (which is always a good thing for my sanity). This first part is just the setup but everything afterwards will be pretty much nonstop smut, so look forward to that!

Prologue - Chieftain Ursha - Princess Kasheeri - Eldawen - Lady Amoura - Epilogue 

Hundreds of onlookers cheered in uproarious celebration, peasants and soldiers alike giving voice to their jubilation, as the legendary Amethyst Crown was finally laid upon the head of one who deserved it's power. In the very same courtyard where men, women, and children alike faced execution at the hands of a mad despot 'Emperor' the newly crowned King Latharyn stood and turned to face his people with a radiant smile. Years of bloody rebellion and endless conflict had finally paved the way for peace and none were more excited by the prospect than him. No words could truly give weight to the gratitude and relief he felt as he looked out across the sea of faces greeting him. The countless friends and family who'd helped overthrow the unjust regime and finally put to rest a millennia long dynasty of pain and injustice. So many more had given their lives to see it done and they would be honored until there were none left to speak their names. It was of them the Lord of the Sunlit Palace thought as he raised his hands to silence the crowd and give one final speech before the feasting could begin in earnest.

“we can never forget the sacrifice of those who couldn't stand beside us here today. Of those who fought so valiantly long before our victories and laid the groundwork for what we've finally accomplished for so long. To them we owe an eternal debt and to them we raise our glasses in thanks as we finally enjoy the peace we've fought so long for!” Once more the crowds erupted in cheers and King Latharyn joined them. As their voices died down he spoke the last of what he needed to say before throwing open the doors to the great hall, “Do not drink for me nor taost my name. Drink for yourselves and for your accomplishments. Toast one another and the sacrifices you've made! But most of all drink and celebrate the lives of every last man, woman, and child to perish at the Mad Emperor's hand! Hail the noble dead, gone but never forgotten!”

“Hail the noble dead, gone but never forgotten!” Every last voice in the courtyard rand out in unison and with a wistful smile King Latharyn looked out across them one more time before turning away and throwing open the great wooden doors behind him. “Now we feast!”

And feast they did. For seven days of unbroken merriment and revelry they feasted. Games of chance and skill were played all across the castle grounds and allies came from all across the land to bask in the joy of a grateful nation. Much the Mad Emperor's hoard, money stolen from his people and pillaged from his neighbors, was spent feeding those who'd gone so long wondering where their next meal might be found. Homes were rebuilt and prisoners guilty of no more than speaking out against tyranny were freed from their chains. Though many scars of the old regime couldn't be healed so easily King Latharyn did all that he could to comfort the people and slowly unmake the hardships many had lived under their entire lives. Were it not for the ever sage advice of his council he might've emptied the treasury entirely as he gave out coins to pauper and guardsman alike, walking among them like he wore nor crown nor held any greater station. Thankfully cooler heads prevailed among the celebration and though many were given the recompense they deserved the kingdom wasn't left destitute in the wake of their new Lord's magnanimity. Of course no amount of advice nor sound logic could stop him from opening every last cask of mead and barrel of wine within the larder and sharing it all among his people. Neither the most persuasive arguments nor reasoned explanations sway him from feeding every last person to set foot upon the castle grounds and send food out to the poorest districts alongside the many skilled craftsman and women sent to undo the neglect that'd festered across the city. Before long his beleaguered yet amused council hardly even tried. It was a time for peace and celebration. The true breadth of ruling couldn't be ignored forever and their King would come to know his responsibilities soon enough.

Indeed by the end of the week King Latharyn was already feeling the pressures of ruling, alongside the pressures of an endless hangover, as the task of cleaning the messes caused by a week of celebration arose as his first challenge. Although it was comparatively easy enough to overcome it served as a tidy little prelude to the many considerations and duties expected of him. Of the line he'd have to walk as he navigated the tumultuous transition of power. Standing at the head of a rebellion quickly proved itself a far cry from sitting upon a throne and without the guidance of men and women vastly more skilled in statecraft than him the months that followed would've been far more tumultuous. A certain amount of chaos and struggle was, perhaps, inevitable in the wake of a long and violent coup but the worst was far behind the kingdom of Wyndelle. Not even the most trouble and uncertain days following the Mad Emperor's death could match the 'best' times under his rule. Every day saw more of his fanatical supporters were captured and put on trial for their crimes. Every week saw another bastion of resistance fall to the justice long awaiting their vile deeds. Every month saw homes and villages being rebuilt and countless uprooted families returning to their lands and their lives. No progress was made entirely without friction and many a heated argument arose among peasant and nobility alike but with an even hand and the guidance of those with experience King Latharyn quelled any discontent before it could boil over into hostility. The people were tired of fighting and most were glad for a peaceful resolution to any woes befalling them. Even those still hungry for conflict could be persuaded into a different path by their Lord's calm words and understanding. He was the first monarch in a century to truly know how those at the lowest stations of his kingdom lived. It was with that knowledge he raised an army and it was with that knowledge he helped to heal a broken kingdom.

Little by little, day by day, the innumerable scars carved into the people, towns, and even the lands themselves healed. They never truly faded but their pain was felt a little less as time dulled their aches and peace stretched out further and further towards the horizon. In what felt like the blink of an eye a year had passed, the first year of true calm Wyndelle had known for generations. Feasts were held all across the kingdom in honor of such a momentous occasion and all the neighboring lands were invited to partake in the celebration. Trade and camaraderie flowed as freely as drink and many breathed easily for the first time since hearing of the Mad Emperor's death. Only time would truly tell how long it might last but it was impossible not to feel a sense of relief alongside the elation. But while that feeling spread far and wide across the kingdom it wasn't a sense shared by the King himself. As joyous as the celebration was and as content as he might've felt the duties of a Lord never diminished no matter how peaceful his lands might've been. After a year o thinking only about his subjects as often as possible and paying heed to his neighbors as little as he could get away with Latharyn was finally forced to turn his gaze outwards and bolster the many alliances that'd helped him find his seat upon the throne. At the very beginning he was overjoyed to entertain his greatest allies and most trusted friends and help in whatever way his far smaller kingdom could manage.

Haggling with the charmingly brusque Dwarven Queen of Kaershull over the price of iron, discussing river tolls with the ethereal Elven Princes of Alfenwold, establishing trade routes with the enigmatic Sultan of Gilgahan, and hosting feats of strength for the united Orc tribes of Vrosh'kinsa was no end of fun for him. Reuniting with the men and women he'd fought shoulder to shoulder with for years on end never failed to bring a smile to his face and a spring to his step. But as the bonds between their countries deepened and the strength of the kingdom he'd help to rebuild was set further in stone his allies seemed to desire more and more political sway with him. Though it was never spoken aloud and certainly never acknowledged by anyone save his council as they spoke to him after every single meeting with his neighbors King Latharyn could see their desires as plainly as he saw their smiles. With his lands bordering each of theirs and the many opportunities for trade and wealth slowly revealing themselves once more it was only natural for them to seek out whatever advantages they might get over each other. First with ever more elaborate and in depth agreements and then with something far more unexpected and far more permanent than any document.

“Marriage?” King Latharyn exclaimed, rising from his throne to stare in shock at his council, many of whom were fighting back smiles as they nodded. “Who am I to marry?”

“Ultimately that choice falls to your discretion my King.” Lady Herrad stated, “But we can guide you as best we're able.”

“Each of our neighbors had sent word of their intentions ahead of the brides they're putting forth.” Lord Povaull added, “Assuming they encounter no trouble on the road each should arrive within a month at the very latest.”

“Marrwyn give me strength . . .” King Latharyn sighed. Slumping back down on his throne and covering his face with his hands for a moment he took a long, slow breath. Though he'd always known he'd have to get married eventually the prospect had always seemed so wonderfully distant. To have it suddenly sprung upon him was far more disconcerting than he expected. But like so many other elements of being a King he couldn't shirk this duty, no matter how much he might've subconsciously feared the enormity that was getting married. “Who will arrive first?”

“Chieftain Ursha of the Vrosh'kinsa will undoubtedly reach the capitol first. She'll have little patience for the road.”

“Of course they'd send Ursha.”

“Are disappointed by their choice?”

“No. I'm merely fearful of what she might do to me if we wed.”

Many of his council laughed and those who didn't couldn't help but smile. “Princess Kasheeri will surely arrive soon after. Her lands are closest to our own and there's little doubt she'll make full use of her considerable magical powers.”

“As long as she doesn't use them on me I can't complain about the prospect of a magical Queen.”

“Indeed.” Lady Corvall agreed. “According to my sources the Elven Princes will send their bride along the river within two weeks. She's traveling from far afield but once she boards the boat it won't take more than a day for the tides to carry her here.”

“Do you know who they've sent?”

“No. For whatever reason they've kept that information secret and I didn't see fit to pry.”

“That's for the best. We don't need to offend them before they've even sent a bride.” King Latharyn agreed. “That means the Kaershull will be the last to send their representative. I can't say I'm surprised by that notion.”

“It would seem Lady Amoura is busy on an expedition into the Brimstone Caverns and won't return until near the end of the month.” Lord Trevann explained.

“Amoura always talked about leading a party through the Brimstone Caverns. I'm glad she finally had the chance.” Standing up and letting out another sigh King Latharyn folded his arms and stared down at his feet for a moment. When he looked up he asked a question his entire council, “Who would be the best candidate to marry?”

“In truth there is no single candidate that stands above the rest.” Lady Herrad answered, “All three of the women we know would make remarkable Queens of Wyndelle. Each commands the respect of their people as surely as you command the respect of your own and the influence they'd give you in their lands is immeasurable.”

“And we have little reason to think whoever the Elven Princes send won't be of the same caliber.” Lady Corvall added.

“That's hardly useful advice.” King Latharyn joked.

A chorus of chuckles greeted his words and after a moment or two his counselors spoke again with a touch more clarity. “An alliance with the Elves of Alfenwold would bolster river trade and allow the northern lands to flourish like never before.”

“Allying ourselves with the Dwarves of  Kaershull would give us access to their mines and the rich veins of metal they hold.”

“Kinship with the Sultan of  Gilgahan opens safer, more lucrative trade routes through the deserts and into the lands beyond.”

“And a marriage to a Chieftain of the Vrosh'kinsa would ensure we're protected against any raiders from across the sea.”

“Now that's considerably more useful. Though not any help at all with the decision I must make.”

“We did warn you there was only so much we could do.” Lady Herrad stated, her face all but expressionless even as mirth filled her voice.

“Yes you did.” King Latharyn replied.

“There's no need to make your choice now.” Lord Povaull remarked amidst the silence. “Although each woman would make a remarkable Queen and the value their marriage brings isn't in question you still have yet to formally meet two of your potential brides.”

“And you're saying I should spend time with each of them before I make my choice?”

“I am. Our allies are sending them regardless. It seems to me waiting and meeting each in turn would be the best course of action. You find yourself in a rare position indeed my King.”

“The chance to choose a bride is rare?”

“No but the chance to choose one you truly enjoy the company of is one not many in your position ever know.” Lady Corvall remarked. “Since all four bring equal prosperity and all four are peerless among their peoples the only choice to make is which makes you happiest.”

Realizing the truth of the words being spoken yet still finding himself unable to quite believe such a thing was possible King Latharyn fell silent as he considered the advice of his council. “It seems I have no other choice then.”

“You never did.” Lady Herrad stated.

Laughter broke out in the throne room but it was punctuated by a nervous smile and slow, pent up breath being exhaled as the King descended from the dais and approached his companions, “Prepare all the accommodations we can muster. Chieftain Ursha will undoubtedly want the room overlooking the courtyard and we should give Lady Amoura the lodgings closest to the ground floor.”

“And what of Princess Kasheeri and whoever the Elven Princes send?”

“The northernmost wing has a beautiful view of the rivers. I'm sure the Lady of Alfenwold will enjoy the sight. As for Princess Kasheeri . . . I truly cannot say. I think it best we ask her directly when she arrives, her mother always prefers a direct approach and I can only hope her daughter shares that quality.”

“As you wish my King.” All four members of his council bowed their heads and Latharyn bowed back with a smile.

He watched them turn away and leave the throne room, his grin slowly fading as he considered the choices ahead of him and what they meant for his kingdoms. Although it seemed unlikely choosing one ally over another would cause any great rift or grievous insult the comfort of that fact did little to assuage the butterflies within his stomach. A month was hardly enough time to fall in love with any of them and there seemed little other way to decide beyond picking at random and lying through his teeth to cover up afterwards. Hopefully he wouldn't have to resort to such a  thoughtless method but if nothing else it was comforting to know he could if he needed to. So comforting in fact he managed to find another smile as he left the throne room and made his way into the kitchens. A hearty meal and some time spent among his people would lift his mood and distract him from his marriage concerns, at least until Ursha arrived and the real test began. A small part of him actually missed the days when overthrowing a bloodthirsty tyrant was his only real concern.