I hereby declare the orgy to begin
Ravage your luscious virgin flesh
(How I love it)
My cup runneth over
Drink my distilled insanity
~*~Sinister Mephisto – Arch Enemy~*~
Made entirely of rainwater and mud, Raylah bruised wet knuckles upon the crudely-hewn wooden door. Behind her, the gigantic walled Courtyard remained frightfully empty, shrouded in violent rain and thrashing storms.
Without thought and without ceasing, Raylah had run fast and fiercely throughout the forest. The things that had happened to her, from one horror straight onto another; she could bear not to think of any of it for fear of going eternally mad. So much was still left unanswered and yet the answers she had received had been terrifying. She could not let it come to pass, all that Nettle had spoke of. There would be peace, it surely was her right.
Raylah had arrived finally to the Castle of Lilia and could only hope that here would be safety and answers. Perhaps Lilia was her home. Perhaps all this was but a wicked dream, a callous trick played upon her. Nettle had been nothing more than a bitter, crazed old woman. Visibly she knew naught, it had to be as such.
Nothing awaits thee save horror and blood.
The wind squealed like a gutted criminal, yanking at her unbound hair and soggy skirts. "Please," Raylah sobbed, nearly falling upon the door, so weary was she. She was at her wit's end, that much was certain. If the door would not open, if she was not let in-
Crimson streaks poured from her hands, staining the wooden door as she banged. Scores of quivers collected and shrouded her. Rain and tears, of the storm and fright both, drenched her pallid countenance. From behind her, throughout the deserted Courtyard, slicing through the furious squall came strong, shifting sounds. Sounds of flowing material sloshing through the dank mud puddles. Sounds of feet, three sets, trudging towards her…
Glancing over her shoulder, as she struck the door harder with dripping, numb fists, Raylah could make out tall, shadowy shapes. Three shapes made of pitch.
...you suffered and shall continue to suffer. Most horrid the pain shall be.
"God save me!" Her shrieks scattered throughout the vehement night. "I bid thee open the door! Please!"
Thankfully, it came to pass.
Lengthy and silent, three figures glided closer, and abruptly the heavy door swung open. Raylah stumbled forward but was kept from falling by sharp nails that yanked her inside. The massive door slammed shut behind her with an eccentric bang. The whipping wind, the sheaves of rain and the ferocity of the storm all disappeared in a flash. A silence soaked over the Princess and it was deadening. Fingernails slid from her wrist, leaving behind shallow dents. Raylah didn't notice.
Breathing heavily, she righted her balance and shoved handfuls of sopping hair from her face. Relief thick as syrup skimmed over her as though in ladlefuls. For a few instants she simple stood there, her mind reeling. The idea of safety, cool and sweet, washed over her like a foaming slice of the sea. She had escaped from the figures three. There would be help here, she knew it, and peace also. Of that she must believe.
Raylah came back to herself and looked about. Her savior was a burly guardsman whose face was mostly obscured by a thick, brown beard. From the tangle, wandering eyes assessed her. They were standing in a tiny foyer made completely of crumbling, slimy stone. Only one torch was lit and the flame cast squirming shadows upon the walls. Behind the guardsman was an arched, wooden door that mirrored the door she had been pulled into.
Wiping at her wet cheeks, Raylah gazed up at the tall guardsman from beneath lengthy lashes. "You have rescued me from a fate most terrible, kind Sir. For that I must thank thee most profusely."
Those cool eyes roamed over the thrusting swell of her bosom beneath the square neckline of her gown before reaching up again. His voice was husky and deep. "Both King Dellan and Queen Charmion await thee."
The guardsman's lusty gaze, coupled with his low voice, sent shivers of warmth cascading into the pit of Raylah's stomach. It was most improper, he was but a guardsman and in light of all the fearful things that had transpired, this was truly indecent and yet...it was desire she felt. Thick and encompassing, it wound into her skin and she longed to remove her cloak and perhaps even all her garments to the guardsman's heavy stare.
In her mind's eye a picture suddenly rose. Naked was she, upon an enormous bed and the man she lay with was cloaked in shadows but she could see that he was most finely formed. They coupled with blazing carnality in so many positions and forms. Lewd, wicked images raced throughout her brain. Here she rode his engorged member as though upon a stallion, caressing her breasts as she did so. There he stabbed into her from behind so deeply that she screamed in liquid ecstasy. Upon her knees she ate of his massive sex as he fingered her to height again and again. He watched her as she pleasured herself for his enjoyment. So many bawdy depictions passed through her mind in seconds and she found herself thoroughly randy.
"How-how is it that the King and Queen know of my arrival?" Raylah's voice was breathless and she knew her cheeks to be carmine.
The guardsman smirked as though able to see straight into her mind and all her sordid images. "Ask them if ye will. for I know not."
She inhaled sharply and forced herself to calm. It was foolishness to be lusty at a time such as this. She was a Princess not a tavern wench! "Am...am. I the Princess of this castle, Sir?"
Genuine surprise marred the guardsman's gruff voice. "Nay. There be no Princess here, only the good Prince Ayden. Know your name then, maid?"
Swallowing she nodded, trying to hide her dismay. "Raylah." She hadn't realized how badly she wanted this castle to be her home until now, when there was no possibility of it being otherwise. "I had awoken deep in the forest with no memory to speak of."
"Indeed. Her Majesty will be most interested to know of these tidings." He turned and beckoned her to follow. "Come forth."
The door opened onto a vast hallway leading into three different directions. The walls again were made of dank stone and upon the rocked ground was a strip of wide purple carpet stretching down all the dimly-lit corridors. The guardsman led her down the left passageway. The ceiling soon grew low and it drooled rainwater. They ventured down shambling, steep stairs and continued through twisting corridors and arched entrances. They approached another deteriorating stairwell but before they could go any further, a voice from behind stopped them.
"Let her onto me Calder."
Raylah turned and was unable to keep from gasping. Before her stood a tall man of aristocratic features and stance. His hair was fair and his eyes a steely pewter. Arrogance marked his countenance, from his rakish gaze to the line of his jaw. The doublet he wore was black and showed clearly that he was of Royal birth. Simply put, he was the most striking man Raylah had ever beheld.
"Your Majesty?"
The Prince, for Raylah was certain that was who he was, did not look away from Raylah. "I shall take her forth."
"As you wish." Calder bowed before turning his attentions towards Raylah. "I shall meet with thee later then, Raylah."
Raylah flushed scarlet. She had been staring, so enraptured with the dashing Prince had she been. She looked upon Calder, recalled her earlier passions and flushed deeper. "I thank thee, Sir."
He nodded briefly before striding away, leaving Raylah alone in the dimly-lit passageway with the Prince.
Grey eyes slowly raked over her disheveled form. "Raylah is thine name then."
"Aye." An involuntary tremble coursed through her body at the strangely sensual, cultured way the Prince pronounced her name. "You are the Prince of this castle? Prince Ayden?"
"Aye. You have come to Lilia because...?"
"I had lost my way within the great forest." She gazed up at him beseechingly. "I awoke with all my memories gone. I only know that I be a Princess and that mayhap this-"
"You a Princess?!" Disbelief tinged his voice as he pointedly glanced at her damp hair, rain-wrecked cheeks and muddy clothing. "Surely you jest wench."
Raylah tilted her chin and frowned at the handsome Prince. She had not come all this way, through circles of Hell as it were, to be ridiculed! "It had been storming," she replied coldly. "And horrid things had happened to me. I trust your Majesty will forgive that I do not appear the height of lofty fashion!"
Amusement seeped into those steely eyes. "I see. And what proof of thine own Royalty have you?"
"I am not accountable to thee!" Her temper was swiftly rising. "As I recall it is thine parentage who have summoned me!"
"So it is Princess." He pronounced her title with great mockery. The Prince took a step closer to her, openly attempting to intimidate her. His voice lowered. "I take not kindly to insolent peasant waifs who've delusions about their own mean standings."
Raylah froze at the barely concealed malice glinting in his eyes. The Prince was dangerous, Raylah realized, as dangerous as the speakers three and Nettle. She held out one slender hand adored with the signet ring of icy jade and met his reluctantly met his gaze. "See this then, Prince Ayden."
He caught her hand and his touch sent coils of warmth writhing in the pit of the stomach. He touched the ring with his index finger as the others caressed her skin. "The emblem of Ardeth," he murmured, his cool breath rustling against her temple.
Raylah's heartbeat quickened. "Ardeth," she whispered and it sounded right upon her tongue. "Yes, surely that must be."
Prince Ayden did not release her hand. "You truly know naught then?"
"Aye." The word came out as a wispy slice of air. She was so close to the tall Prince, must closer than decorum would ever dictate. She did not wish that he should think her a woman of loose virtue and yet she longed. Mere inches separated them from passion.
"These terrible things you spake of...what were they?"
Raylah shuddered and clenched her eyes shut. "I would not speak of them, that I cannot."
"I shall protect you then, gentle Princess." His free hand curved about her storm-kissed cheek.
Pea green eyes flew open. "Y-you shall?"
"I feel as though I've known you for ages past." His eyes stabbed into her and she was helpless to look away. "Most beauteous Princess of Ardeth."
Acting of its own will, her hand slid up the muscular slope of his chest. "I desire thee," she confessed in a husky voice that seemed not to be her own. From deep within her, a tiny voice spoke, berating her for acting so brazenly. She had been aborted and she had been accosted by lunatic witch! How could she give in to lust with this steely Prince?
The tiny voice was smothered when Prince Ayden crammed sensual lips onto Raylah's. He ate of her mouth, cupping her full breasts through the sodden material of her gown. His other hand tangled through moist, inky locks and jerked sharply. Her mouth slid wetly against his and she gasped in pleasure. Quickly his tongue thrust between her lips. Moaning, Raylah writhed shamelessly against him. She was unable to help herself.
He would protect her, that she could feel.
"I will take you forward," he murmured roughly, pulling her body against his own lean one. "Meet with mine parentage as you would and following, I shall come to thee." His lips fell onto the arch of her neck. "What is thine due will find thee Princess. Reap what you sow and so it shall come to pass."
If she hadn't been in such a thick fog of passion, Raylah would have noticed that his words and gaze bore great resemblance to that of Nettle's.