Emperor Eragon's Harem

Requested by .

…I'm not really sure how this is going to turn out. I mean, I'm still working on Slave, and I'm starting another one? I still need to finish Skirts and Blush! Sigh…oh well. I don't even know if this is worth reading. So please, don't get your hopes up for me.

Warnings: Mentions of het and boyxboy, Dark!Eragon and non-con. Rated T because when people write fics like this and rate it M it pisses me off.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!

Humph. Truly, they were all so pathetic. The elves, the humans, the dwarves—pitiful creatures, the lot of them. It wasn't much of a surprise that he had defeated the stupid king. What came as a surprise to the Varden, though, was that he was keeping him alive; and that he now became the tyrant he had once tried to defeat. He was now Emperor, and all those that had thought to stand against the old king were too exhausted to resist his rule. He wouldn't allow the king to die, not just yet—not until he hurt him like he had hurt all those he cared for.

Although, they were also down in the room, that wide expansion that used to be the throne room now housed his harem; almost all of them he now knew;

Quite intimately.

Galbatorix was the first. It was easy to take him, paralyzing his mind with the might of the other dragons—he hadn't released them from the crippling madness that kept them pliant. The king had tried to use his honeyed tongue on him, to convince him to let him go, set his free. His pleas were useless and voiceless for the next week. It had been especially pleasurable for Eragon, but excruciatingly painful for the dethroned king.

Next was Arya. She was a fighter; that he knew. But she was quickly subdued by the power of the Eldunarí. She was still able to feel everything that was happening to her, of course—she just couldn't do anything about it. He had enjoyed the screams and cries that fell freely from her lips as he added her to his collection—he had left her voice. What fun was there in taking a voiceless partner?

Queen
Islanzadí, though; there was a feisty one. She had managed to hold him off, for a while—remaining in a sort of stasis until he had figured out how to awaken her. After that, it was easy—she had barely put up a fight as he took her.

Murtagh. The name left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He had killed his dragon, yes—the oversized youngling had been dumped into a pit and set ablaze with Shruikan—but yet he continued to fight. The half-brother, whom he thought he could give some position of power, ended up being nothing more than a rebellious pawn. He had put him in his place soon after he had attempted to kill him again, and in the process killed one of his concubines. . He smirked as he remembered how he had an illusion of his father holding him down as he violated every part of his body, even going so far as to tear open his scar. He had been disappointed when he stopped fighting back.

After that it was the princess of the Varden that really was entertaining. She, with her sweetened tongue and delicate face, had kept him at bay. The cute little virgin she was, he only tormented her for hours upon hours until she practically begged for it. Nausada became a very lustful concubine after several of these sessions.

Angela—she was a feisty one. Evading his forces for a century, until he found her in that same little shop where he had first encountered her. She attempted to defeat him, perhaps even kill him, with a hûthvír.

He'd snapped it in half.

After that, she had attempted to cut him to death using that all-cutting blade—what was it called?—but he had been able to prevent her from even landing a scratch; he'd wrest the sword from her grip and tossed it into the ocean. The next line of protection she had was that werecat, Solembum.

He was easy to get past. The pheromones he had collected over the years from the other werecats he had in his harem had him easily succumbing to his will. He had him transferred to his castle—the cat gave very pleasant head. He would be well cared for by the other werecats—they were practically coated in the stench of arousal now.

After all that time, he had yet to lay his claim on the witch. She was a crafty one; he had to give her that. But she couldn't evade him forever. Eventually he found her again, hiding in a bog. She had put up a fight for a time like the others, but was no match for his crippling strength. He'd been so disappointed, perhaps even a little shocked, when she enjoyed becoming his property.

Orik. He was interesting to deal with. He had a bit of a problem at first, trying to figure out how to claim him; but after seeing that he was basically just a very short human—aside from the extra digits on his hands and feet—he had no problem making him his. He was not a very good bed partner, though—he was as hard and cold as rock. But that did not mean that he was as unyielding as it.

He also had similar problems with Garzhvog. But he was much more ferocious when cornered. He ended up having to replace his bed multiple times after the Kull broke it into bits every time he invited him to his chambers. So he ended up having other, much more obedient Kull in his harem assist him in the process of "mating", as they preferred to call it. His tight heat had felt delicious when the large Urgal rode him, the other concubines forcing unwanted pleasure onto the Nar. Garzhvog had practically roared when his king finally reached his completion inside of him, and left the others to take him back to the chamber and finish him off—he hadn't completed when they "mated".

There were a few others that still insisted on rebellious acts now and then, but none were more memorable than those nine. After a while, they had all blended to become the same.

Elves were pliant and flexible.

Humans were hot, passionate, and seemed to have a very low stamina.

Dwarves were hard and cold, not flexible at all—normally he had to shove himself in to even get the head to fit inside.

And Urgals were ferocious, with what seemed to be a tenacity that wouldn't allow them to leave until he had climaxed several times. They were by far the most enjoyable, with their animalistic, feral ways. It normally took a few months to tame them enough to keep from attempting to kill him.

Being emperor was really much too enjoyable.

º_º. . . OH DEAR GOD THAT WAS HORRIBLE! Please forgive me for writing something so terribly weak. I felt like I was just repeating myself over and over again. . . GAWD THAT WAS TORTURE! Please, please don't make me write something like that ever again. . . I can't refuse a request, even if it's something like this.

BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN IT'S GOING TO BE WELL WRITTEN!

Until the next fic. Stay individual!