Random smut stories with plot

by Jokiba

Smut of all kinds with good plot too

63. As sands slip through the hourglass

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Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

RWBY

Relationships:

Jaune Arc/SalemJaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos/Salem

Characters:

Jaune ArcPyrrha NikosSalem (RWBY)

Additional Tags:

MasturbationOral SexBodyguardRoyaltyVaginal SexThreesome - F/F/MNon-Consensual TouchingCrushesMentor/ProtégéRough SexRough KissingOlder Woman/Younger ManSexual TensionAge DifferenceDeclarations Of Love

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2021-07-23Words:31,060Chapters:1/1Comments:4Kudos:70Bookmarks:36Hits:8,576

As sands slip through the hourglass

CyanideSins

Summary:

A lifetime of loneliness, banished by a flash of regret, when a husband betrayed her and her life was rent asunder by treachery. Salem, watching the sands slip through the hourglass, feels how her heart may not be as solidly set on being unmoved as she wishes it to be. A tremor of the hand, a young man's craving for a woman who is millennia his senior, and the grains of sand slowly tumbling through the hourglass once more. A cruel fate for one such as him to love one like her, but love is never what one expects, even as an accursed immortal.

Work Text:

This was commissioned work.

Time.

Time was the vessel through which everything faded and turned to grains of sand.

She had been alive for thousands upon thousands of years now. From the kingdom that she had been the princess of, now ground to dust in the time spent in-between the years, resting within her memory now, as humanity had re-emerged into the world once more.

They were like a weed springing up, villages moved into places that she had visited centuries ago, barren land cultivated by hardy, swarthy men that gave her stares for her exotic looks, the pale skin that she had attained through her own decision to throw herself into the pool of Grimm, as they warred amongst themselves.

The people continued to be as malignant as she felt at times, with the pleasure that came from occasionally blasting them as transient as the lives that were lived without knowledge of the witch who lived longer than any before.

A house, built within the woods, came to her as a place for her to rest. A place for her to recover, whenever she had time to wander the lands to see how the humans had grown, how they had prospered without the guiding hand of their immortal queen to bless them with benevolent teachings and power.

She was a princess, frozen in time. Anger at the Gods for cursing her like this, denying her death, a husband that she loved, giving her nothing but spite and hate in return.

Mortal men did not give her the feeling of being cherished like Ozma had given her, nor did they last long, as her body was unaging and unafraid to be battered. Time was like a massive hourglass that turned for all but her, all but the people who she had belonged to with her husband Ozma, now only motes of dust.

He had been sweet, gentle and what she had wanted. She had been only sixteen when she heard the door creak open and saw his face peering through the hole that he'd blasted into it, a smile that had won her heart, as she had been once a maiden. A maiden who had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the love affair that had followed, as her father was cast down and they went on adventures. With Ozma around, she had felt invincible, yet he had not been.

The cough and the bloody phlegm that came with it had been the first sign. The first sign of something amiss, something terribly wrong. A hand that had once been strong, grew weathered, and he had been moody and broody as she dabbed at his lips, the cloth coming away red with blood.

It had been a sobering experience, yet time marched on. From only bedrest for a few weeks before their next adventure, to longer stays, a month of rest before a brief jaunt out into the wilds, and more rest. Bones that started to show when his skin had gone pale, when he'd clutched at her for the last time before his breath had gotten choked and he'd gone still.

It had been three years since she had left the tower. The power that he had as her spouse was of course akin to royalty, since her father laid dead and the advisors had always cautioned them when they went to adventure. Lands, nobility and power had never been an issue, she had known. Love was enough for her.

To go to the Gods and to plead for her husband, the love of her life, to be returned to her, had been a ploy for someone who had barely any wits left, she knew that now, after the aeons that she had spent alone, until Humanity had returned once more, weak and fledgling, with only the company of Grimm to lessen her eternal boredom.

It had been a curse upon her flesh that had brought her to this, and as Humanity turned from agrarian settlements to war-like states, she had been aloof and above it all. The hourglass filled with the sand of ages continued to turn for her eternally, as her house was spruced up just a little on one visit, a little family having made it their own.

She had observed them for a few decades, acting like a traveller, only for the son to disappear during the interim between one of her travels, and the husband to have been slain by Grimm. She had moved in to care for the old woman, though the desire to destroy and to maim still lurked within her.

Silence came after the woman had drawn her last breath, as the hourglass for this woman had stopped, and yet there was still loneliness and isolation for her, without even stopping that damned hourglass from turning once more.

Upon a morning that had spelled the seventieth year of her living in the home, with only a garden to tend to when she required something to distract her, food no longer a necessity, as her magic and the curse of the Gods kept her living, though the food was as bland as the spices to liven it up were but a foregone thought., a knock on the door came and when she opened it, time seemed to speed up.

A frozen moment in time that seemed to speed up faster and faster, as her lip quivered and those same eyes looked at her, as she heard the unfamiliar voice, but those eyes, those eyes that she had loved once, as he wordlessly hugged her and she felt her heartbeat race once more with that beat of love and craving, as tears of molten heat seemed to flow from her eyes, as he patted her back and told her that it was fine, that it would be fine.

A great empire they would found, and they would be akin to gods, to her words alone. The Gods had cursed her with eternal life, and her body hadn't even felt love again, as they conquered.

Children had come from her womb, beautiful and pristine, able to wield magic, until that night when he took them. The fight had killed them, though who had dealt the killing blow, she did not know, as the rage had taken her and the urges to destroy and defile had overcome her rationality.

"Why?! WHY?!"

He was bleeding out, as he coughed, his noble face looking like a foregone conclusion, as his gaze looked into her own, and she realized that he wasn't looking at her.

His gaze wasn't on her, as he looked at the heavens.

"Immortality… Why were you blessed with it, when I died? To bring back me and make me… for another body."

The words came from him, as his final breath escaped him, leaving her to watch the body lay there and a shriek of rage to come from her lips. She had heard him right, of course she must have. Who would wish to live forever, if they were to be separated from the one that they loved? Was it a game? Was it all some cruel game from him, tricking the gods into being sent back to…

'Have I been fooled? Was it all a trick?'

She hadn't paid mind to his spending. The treasury was hers by inheritance and her father's unfortunate demise, so it was all their property, but hadn't his eyes glinted when he'd seen the full coffers, the tithes still coming in to refill it every time they had returned from an adventure? Hadn't he been a vocal proponent of ensuring that the gold glistened in the eyes of the rabble, as they dined out in the local fanciest establishments, as Queen Salem the Wise and her King-Consort came for a dinner?

'Was it a trick? Was it a lie, that you'd want to spend eternity with me?'

He was blessed by the gods, whilst she was scorned, cursed for loving a man and not wishing to surrender to the feelings of defeat at his loss, at the way that he died. Sickness had taken him from her, and now he was gone again.

She took to travelling again, to see the world through the eyes of the average peasant, hearing of the stories of the gods of the empire disappearing, and the intense wars that were fought for their former domain. Apathy came over her as she came down to the black pools of Grimm once more and threw herself into the dark depths, hoping that it would end her despair… but finding herself emerging once more, her skin as bone-pale as it had always been, her eyes ghastly and warped, as the pain and anger roared inside her once more, as she shouted her challenge to the heavens in a primal scream, before she set out once more.

Continents she travelled, through lands that formed, hunting for the man who had been once the man that she loved. Finding him, and it was surely him, hunched over a bottle, an aged man whose face looked like nothing she would ever love, and the sizzling of his flesh as she blasted him with her power and her wrath, nothing remaining of the man who had sat there but smoking remnants, the screams only growing louder as the Grimm came, and she continued onwards.

He was out there, he was waiting for her to make a move and then bring to the fore more of his plans for eternal life, which she would deny. She would deny everything that he ever loved, because he wished to live forever.

An empire was founded in the far-off mountains, she had heard, a young warrior-king having emerged, with a large family. There had been many children, she had heard, and a young advisor to the only son and heir, bringing with him advice that sounded remarkably like Ozma's own strategies for combat and fighting…

'Another soul, fodder for the charnel house…'

She set off for the empire, to reach those lands and to see what her former husband had brought to bear, in order to feel less inhuman, to sate the dark impulses within her with the wrath that she brought to bear on her husband, the man she was still married to, legally. To her, those vows had been forever, and she would remain, as a monster, a goddess or someone the gods abandoned.

An army was massing according to the rumours and when Salem reached the outskirts of the domain, the men at the borders gazed at her, mistrustful of a single woman travelling alone, yet not cautioning her, as she travelled inwards, towards the capitol that laid waiting for her, where her husband had laid in wait with his armies, undoubtedly. She could fight, as she would eternally return, but to see what he had brought to bear was tickling her curiosity.

Her eyes caught sight of the large walls, the men and women wielding weapons, and the fertile fields that laid there, as she saw the armies mass in front of the gate to meet her, as she drew herself up to challenge them, only to feel amazement shoot through her as they simply passed by her, as if she didn't exist, as if her appearance did not horrify them as it did many others.

A disease, something that was Grimm-spawned or something else, as the black lines ran through the veins of her body, as she trembled with that battle-born wrath that lurked, as she overheard the talk.

"Advisor Ossos has said that our borders are undefended. The Emperor has demanded that his only son earn his battle honours."

The sight of the white horse with the blonde-haired young man atop it, barely twelve or thirteen, blue eyes that looked like they held some promise, as she felt her body heat up with the comely young man's appearance, young enough to be her child, but the sight of the man next to him making her blood boil and bubble, her anger overflowing with that rage and frustration after spotting him, a feral sound coming from her lips as she spotted at the hated man, whispering words into the young man's ear.

'Young, naive… trusting.'

A perfect host for her husband, in a high position of power. The process wasn't painless, she surmised, but with enough strength, even the host could be subdued and the will brought to bear onto the spirit. Ozma was like a leech, and there must be something about the young man which was important, or else he wouldn't be buzzing into the young man's ear like that, like a fly that didn't wish to go away.

She followed. Her face was slathered with some makeup that she had bought, darkening the skin, to hide the veins that crossed her features with corruption, to look more 'humane' to the eyes of the world, who thought of her as a witch, a goddess that had fallen from grace, a monster who could control the Grimm.

It had been a battle that had been a failure. A faulty tactic, as Ozma had spurred the young prince on to take the lead, and then leaving the flank to fall, where the charging horde of barbarians came to bash through their defenses.

Sand was slipping through the hourglass, as lives were reaped like chaff was left after the harvest, when the farmers wielded their scythes and parted the valuable grain from their thin supports.

A child, bloodied and half-crushed under his horse, stared up at the barbarian warrior, to look for help that would not come. A barbarian was raising its axe, with many of the guarding soldiers dead, a leg which was mangled by the beast that had fallen on top of it unresponsive, as her hand rose and she channeled flame.

Armour was a very good conductor of heat and electricity, as the man roasted, his axe falling from a limp hand, as she observed Ozma, the near-casual dismissal meaning that there was another reason for his accompaniment of the young man, and she caught sight of a young man who was riding another horse, adorned with armour.

'A replacement…'

A prince that had fallen, replaced by someone much worthier than he. Cull the weak, bring in the strong and seize a hold of them and bring them to the forefront… That was how one ruled. With the death of one prince, there would be the princesses undefended from those seeking to turn them into convenient alliance-chips, a fate that might have been her own, had she been someone who had freedom, rather than to be locked away within a tower of stone.

It was the rout of the barbarians a few hours later that had kept things even, the young man, teenager really, scooped up by her and put somewhere safe, as they combed the battlefield for survivors, or for their young prince.

"Who are you?"

A bitter feeling inside her, as she took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"Someone who saved you."

Why she had done it, she did not know. He looked at her, as he glanced back and forth.

"I'm not… ah, Ossos said that I should charge, because it'd be a good idea? I'm not a fighter, I'm…"

Culling the weak, and she didn't know why.

"What is so special about you, young man?"

He looked at her and was surprised.

"Oh, my family is long-lived, and my father is the emperor. I've got a lot of older sisters, but… they aren't very happy."

'I see …"

Eternal life didn't start with merely skipping to another host. Ozma's plan must be to make someone with longevity, to form a host that would live through the ages, to switch bodies with when one grew old and frail, to live yet another life in a stronger and fitter body.

It was quite ingenious, but the hourglass turned for all.

"Then… allow me to accompany you, young man. What is your name?"

He smiled, guilelessly. Like a child, like her children had, before they had died and she had heard of Ozma's treachery.

The hourglass would turn for her, and he would grow old as well, older and frail, whilst her body remained as it was.

"Jaune d'Arc, First Crown Prince of Arcadia."

She smiled, as she felt something brew in her mind about how to use this young man to drive a wedge against her husband's plans.

"Salem, a woman who was once a princess."

He tried to do a bow and seized her hand, a kiss pressed against the knuckles like a sweet siren's call to the ancient protocols that had been installed inside her since birth.

For the first time in nearly a thousand years, Salem smiled at someone.

Jaune groaned as Salem watched him, the woman sitting on his back as he did another pushup, her encouragement enough to make him feel that splash of confidence, as he pushed himself up again, the training that she was giving him making him feel the burning of his muscles in the morning.

It had been nearly a year since she had started to educate him in the ways of the warrior, bringing him a portion of her food every time, yet he had never seen her eat, nor had he seen her sleep. There was this air of mystery around her, as his leg had healed up after it had been shattered from the battle's aftereffects, as if magic had pushed the wound shut and healed the leg slowly, with a poultice applied to the wound before it could fester.

There was magic about her, as her pale skin and coolness displayed. Even during summertime, when the world had been sweltering hot and the black cloth that she draped herself with had absorbed the heat, she had remained cool and delicate to the touch, as she fashioned a sword out of a branch, for him to practice with, her body going through sword forms that he only could imagine.

One night, she had went out and he had seen her bathe, watching the pale skin be unveiled and her bosom glisten as she stood below the freezing chill of a waterfall, peaks of her nipples unveiled, and beauty in her appearance, as she trembled with some sort of chill that was beyond chills, the moon illuminating her with its shattered shape imperfect, whereas she had been perfect.

It had been a blessing and a curse. He had seen her as a woman, and that had brought ideas that were 'rather unwholesome', as his sisters often had said. He missed them, yet Salem had taught him that an arrow within the quiver should only be shot when one had ascertained oneself of the target's presence. It was strange, since not many people liked to wield a bow, but she knew better than he did, most of the time.

The thought of her naked and below the waterfall, the water raining down on her elegant pale blonde locks, her skin bare and her breasts standing perfectly there, brought him with thoughts of how sensual she was, even with the dress that she wore, covering her form up.

She was a guardian, a teacher, a mother who cared and a taskmistress who demanded perfection in the art of war, as she worked with him, and the sight of her sitting at the fire, poking at the burning sticks and branches that he'd gathered, was one of the moments where he could see the beauty of the woman.

He'd been the first and only prince, but he was someone who had not been born with the skills that his father had expected. He had been effeminate, a little slender, unable to fight as well, and the vice-General had been assigned together with Ossos to make certain that he was alright, even if he'd been thought of as dead.

Jaune's eyes fell onto the somber form of the woman, illuminated by the light of the morning, her body seductive and alluring. A mature woman who had held his attention since she had let the man burst into flames, before he'd been saved by her. He owed her his life.

"I'll go and… and relieve myself."

His erection wasn't fading away, as he snuck to the bushes far away, imagining that pale face of hers twisted in desire, something that he'd noticed from time to time when they had travelled through the villages, since he did require food that would be palatable. Hunting game only got you until the seventieth time when it was 'roasted rabbit, with a sauce of hunger and spit'.

She had looked at the men with a strange yearning in her eyes, something that he had only noticed when they were out, posing as a mother and her teenage son. His hair was blonde, whilst hers was a much paler shade, leaving not a small link to him as her child. His face was different, but her gaze had held azure eyes within, an illusion, or so her voice had murmured when he'd asked.

It had been beautiful, a beautiful woman who wished to be with men but who restrained herself. The feeling of his hand on his cock, of bringing that sweet blissful release that went through him as he tugged and stroked, imagining the beautiful woman who he was receiving training from be with him, looking at him with a desirable look in her eyes. It was the sweet, sweet sinful moment of desire that continued to burn in his heart as he stroked his manhood.

Pleasure that sparked like a sweet flame through his loins, imagining the delicate, noble features of the woman who was like a mother to him, a mentor, someone who taught him the perfect measured moves to strike an opponent.

His mouth uttered a moan, imagining the pale arms wrapping around the shaft, stroking over the soft skin and hearing her breathing, like he'd done so often when she was training him, guiding him through the strikes, holding his arm and guiding him.

"Careful, Jaune. Remember… A blade is a tool for killing. You must strike decisively, without pity or remorse…"

Remembering the sweat that'd dripped down his brow as he'd went through the forms, hearing the amused sound of Salem laughing, as he completed the order of strikes with the sword, smelling the sweet scent of her body, as his stroking continued, a perverse thought of her half-naked, stepping out of the tent that she occasionally put up when it was about to rain, clad in only dark undergarments.

A soft touch to his side and a whisper in his ear that made his cock grow ever harder in his grasp, as the tense shaft in his grip throbbed, imagining that Salem were to look like some of the ladies that she'd called 'scarlet women', who wore veils and barely anything, his hand pumping and stroking, his teacher's sensual form in his mind.

He could imagine her wearing something red to add a dash of colour to the black veils, covering the pale flesh, hiding it from sight and touching upon his darkest, hottest desires. He imagined how sweet her moans would be when she would be in the tent with him, how her body pressed against his own as she praised him, guiding him into the steps of adulthood with her body.

Jaune's soft groan of her name was sensual as he imagined it, recalling several of the concubines of his father having gone through things with him, though he knew that as the only prince, they would not touch him. It was the noble line that was continued through him, as he felt how the pleasure sizzled through his lower body like a flame, as his pleasure peaked.

His hand stopped mid-stroke as his seed gushed out, the pleasured sound, hissing from his lips as thick globs splattered all over the grass, the panting and groaning loud as he stroked over his body, the pleasure not stopping for that brief rush's merciful release.

"Why must I be saddled with this?"

His cockhead leaked globs of white seed, his mind focused on the pale-haired woman's features, imagining how they would look, twisted in the desire for him. A sensual woman at the worst of times and scorching in her beauty during the best, he wished that he was able to bring her to a peak of pleasure, as his mouth opened and he could feel that tension start to mount, heavy breaths escaping his mouth as he imagined doing… forceful things to her.

The memories of being spoken to by one of his father's concubines, hearing the tale of how she had been a 'war bride' of sorts, forced into concubinage after her father passed, her skin a molten golden colour, almost olive under the light, her armbands golden, as she had spoken of rough men and weak women.

The desire wasn't stopped. He continued to tease his aching shaft, imagining being forceful with her. Of invading her tent and then doing things to her body whilst she struggled, a hot heated fantasy that brought pleasure to him in how debasing it was, how she struggled with her own desires and yet remained a mentor, a teacher, a vixen whose body was out of reach and who would never sag down in defeat, because he knew she was wonderful.

"Salem…"

Flushed cheeks, red and black gaze looking at him with a plea for him to worship her, to ravish her, to caress her and do more.

Another orgasm, painful and aching, pushed itself from his cock, aware that he was doing something forbidden, something that broke the bonds of a teacher and a student, that made the faintest hint of something resembling care shoot away into the pitfall of hedonism.

He walked to the stream and washed himself, just to make sure that he wouldn't have the worst feeling about it, only to find her there, sitting on a rock, her eyes staring at him as she motioned for him to sit down. He could still smell the desire on his skin, the sweat and the seed that he had spilled, thinking of her.

A look that held pity and regret and more came to her eyes, as he sat down, and she sniffed the air, a soft smile on her lips.

"Ah, you are a teenager. Taking care of such things is only natural, Jaune."

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks, as she lightly brushed her knuckles against his shoulder, a gesture that was playful yet respectful, at least in his culture.

"You grow up so fast, child. A princeling who is under my tutelage, soon to grow hair and to grow old… These rocks are like little grains of sand…"

A soft wistfulness in her voice was there as Jaune watched her trace a pattern onto the stone that she had been sitting on, the finger chipping through the rock as if it were some kind of hot chisel, the stone smoking with her touch.

"Time is one of the things I have plenty of. I cannot die, Jaune."

There was a soft tone to her voice, as she looked at him with a look that pleaded for him not to pity her, the dark rage that she often kept at bay with a force of will visible behind those terrifying eyes.

"Humans, you are like grains of sand slipping through the hourglass that is my life."

She hadn't spoken about it, and immortality seemed to have been a far-fetched thing, had he not seen her take an arrow to the chest and then revive, a short while later. It had been a scary moment, but her power had burned with the tension that she'd infused her voice with as she'd commanded him to get behind her, and the world had been blown apart with her magic.

"A young child, a young boy, on the cusp of teenagerdom…"

Her voice sounded like an old woman, as Jaune watched her, her legs raising a little, as she laid her head on her knees, her eyes looking at him with a quiet, contemplative manner.

"We will be going to town soon, Jaune. You will be grown soon. You will return to court, to reclaim your birthright…"

She sounded melancholic, as her eyes peered at him with questions, with desire within their depths, as she was a good teacher, her face illuminated by the moon, the softness of her lips, the red colour that she applied religiously to look as a princess should.

"And we will ensure that you are on the throne. An emperor, installed by me."

Tenderness in her voice, as her eyes gazed at him, a sweet touch to his side with her fingers, as he leaned closer, the chirping of the bugs in the distance and the soft sounds of her breathing, of being close to the woman he craved, all seemed to grow louder and louder, as her arm wrapped around him and she held him against her.

Looking down at him and showing him a tender look, stroking through his hair like his mother would have, as he smelled the scent of her body. A mingling of sweat and something sweet that was like perfume, and he nuzzled against her like a child, like it didn't matter that he had touched himself to the thought of her, her fingers still brushing through his hair, as she hummed a soft melody.

She had said that it was the hymn of mortality, a tune that she remembered from the time when she had been young, now the remnants of her civilisation had turned to dust, forgotten over the thousands of years that she had lived.

"I was a wife, once upon a time."

He hadn't heard this story, since Salem did not often delve on the past that she had lived. Her body leaned against him, as her hand stroked through his hair, coaxing him into a slow slumber, as she spoke.

"A husband who rescued me from a great peril, dying… I demanded from the Gods that they return him to life once more, and was cursed for it."

The woman's lament showed in how she spoke about the events, Jaune feeling a tremor going through him, as Salem's fingers stroked through his hair.

"I saw him again, another shape clothing him, and I was his wife once more. We had children… and they died, after we had a fight. I saw what he craved, Jaune. Immortality, a life without end."

Jaune remembered that his family was long-lived, and he wondered about it for a moment, her expression wanting, questioning and daring to give him that look that made his member hard.

It was the feeling of her fingers running through his hair as she told of her daughters, of her husband, of the moments that she'd spent with him and the betrayal. A tale of slow burden of the woman who had cared for him for a year, taught him about the world's weight and the challenges she faced.

Arousal faded, as his heart slowed its beat and he lingered against her, a soft touch to his cheek given with a light touch, as she smiled down at him.

"And that is why I will raise you to the throne."

He could do that.

"Only if you'll marry me."

He blurted that out and a soft smile lingered on her lips, as she stroked over his hair.

"It would be a short marriage, I presume. You are like a small pebble within the river of time, Jaune. I am unaging, unending and unmoved… Where you grow old and thin, I will remain as I am always."

Jaune would try, at least. He'd try his best to make sure that he'd be the man who would share her mornings with her.

"Marry me."

A teenage desire, as her laughter was loud in the air.

"Perhaps when you're older."

He'd have to get older, then.

Time.

Time was yet slipping from her grasp, as she watched the young man's features look intense and focused, as he went through the motions of his swordplay.

She had sat down on a rock and spoken of the past. The little sand-grain that came from the cracks of the hourglass was slowly dropping, even though he hadn't spoken a word. She had followed him, concern for him.

She had followed him, hearing her name murmured by the teenager who didn't even have hair down below yet, nor the chest hair that she could curl her fingers through. He wasn't even growing scruff yet, and still he dared to bring the hopes that he'd be the man who she would consider a husband once more.

He had asked her to marry him. Her body said yes, but her mind said no. He was too young. He was fourteen, nearly fifteen. She might have been around sixteen when she had been sprung free, naive and too trusting of a man who spoke of love, of the desire to see the world with her, but he would not be tarnished by her.

Jaune was mortal, yet possessing a long life and high vitality. Like the ancient warriors of her day, he held within him the seed of someone who would be just like Ozma, or at least the image she had of her husband that had been proven false, someone who would stand with her like a companion, a husband, a man who… who would be present.

She wasn't blind to handsome men. Dalliances with men had been a pastime that she had utilized to ensure the body remained functional, as her husband had broken his own vows of love as well. He had children, spawned with silver eyes and the desire to be bright and burning, even if his curse maintained his presence in this world by infecting someone with the spirit, to keep the man forever living.

She had heard Jaune's grunts, the sound of his caressing of his manly rod, of stroking that masculine spear-shaft until the eruption came, and he had panted her name, like some animal in heat, burning with desire for her.

A child desired to be close to someone who made them feel comfortable. She didn't know why he would pick her when there were girls that made eyes at him in the villages that they visited. Blonde girls, at the cusp of their womanly nature, nothing like her, of course, but a boy with a blade, and with a woman accompanying him, had drawn attention.

She preferred being out into the wilds, when the desires had been slaked and her body required the rest. The Grimm were nearly always absent from her presence, her own infusion with the darkness making her like a deterrent to them, as she 'felt' like them. Jaune had never asked.

When she had spoken, she had omitted that.

Like sand grains tumbling through an hourglass, his life was like a grain that slowly descended to mark the time, compared to the smaller grains. Eventually, he would fade and mingle amongst the masses.

Time was marching on.

It was sand through the hourglass, grains of sand that would turn into the skulls of those she had once cherished as friends, as allies, or as pawns.

She wished to be loved, knowing that Ozma was out there, waiting for her to attain happiness once more. Jaune wasn't someone who would walk the long road together with her, but he would need to be reared to become a leader.

He was cute, though. A cute teenager, beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair, much like her own people, ages past. Ozma had been a foreigner, and he had not been loyal.

She had spoken of her own plight for the first time in an aeon, and he slept in her arms, like a child who craved the attention of a mother, and sinful feelings that would have no place in a mother's heart came, as her fingers lightly traced over his chest.

He was a young man. A young teenager, desiring a woman's flesh. A princess like her knew how men could be, having parlayed with them aplenty, her body regenerating even through the roughest acts imaginable, to dismiss the boredom. It had been rough, at times, to quell the loneliness inside her.

Her fingers reached out to brush softly over his cheek, having slid over from his chest, and her fingers slowly brushed down again, shifting him a little on the rock. She was curious, and her fingers found his groin.

'I'm inspecting him.'

It was curiosity. It was curiosity for her, knowing that he had masturbated and made concerning sounds whilst he did so. The breeches that he wore were pulled down and she smelled the scent of a young man's cum in the air, her nipples stiffening immediately, as she inhaled sharply.

'He will need to have a girl.'

Someone who befits his status as a prince, and soon to be Emperor. Her nostrils flared sharply as she exhaled, as she tried to firmly hold the resolve, as she saw the slimy head, still somewhat damp, the hairless sack, not yet coated with the fuzz that men grew during their later puberty, his manhood not grown yet fully, but sizeable nonetheless.

He was laid on the stone, asleep. His back arched a little, as the stone supported him, as she slid down into the water, with nary a sound, her hands rubbing over his groin, over the soft flesh that held hardening muscles, as she gazed at his manhood. Her body tingled, as her tongue slid over lips that felt dry, as she pushed his legs open gently, trying not to disturb him, his sack laid on the stone, as his manhood grew half-flaccid, as she blew on it.

'This is a young man. You shouldn't.'

She should not. She should definitely not, but she did.

She would not copulate with the boy under her guard. She wouldn't spoil him for a woman to pleasure him, but she would give him time for a girl to be with him. It would not be fair.

Her fingers traced over the flaccid cock, shifting it a little, the head looming over her fingers. It would grow still, but he was like a weak kitten in her hands, as she lightly tugged the big sturdy cock, which grew thicker and blood-engorged. The purplish coloured head seemed to bulge and throb at her, a pearlescent glob of slimy pre-seed drooling from the tip, sliding over her hand, the smell sending her pussy into a wet mess, as she reached her tongue out to capture the glob, the taste of it shocking her awake to realize that she was about to do heinous things.

He was too young. He was a virgin, and he was going to love another woman. He must love another woman, for the hourglass of time only had frozen for her. The taste sent shudders through her groin, as she pulled away, looking at his hard manhood.

He craved her. He craved her like a man craved a woman. Her fingers squeezed at the base, as he stiffly stood before her.

Her head rose, as she gazed at the shattered moon, the sounds of nature around them, before her lips pressed a soft kiss to the head, tasting the bitter taste of his salty sperm, his mouth opening in a soft guttural sound of desire and craving, as she shivered a little at the sound.

It was a sound of a man who craved a woman. She had been raised with the idea that she would have a husband and that she would be the female that served her husband in his conquests and in his rulership, a princess turned to a queen, and she fought to suppress the urge to seize him and show him the beauty of being with a woman.

A beautiful young teenager, who stood erect for her, whose shaft looked like it would fill her, like the men whose company she sought to sate her urge, as her tongue flicked over the head, another glob pushing from the slit, the smell raunchy and primal to her nose, as she could see his testicles bounce a little.

Jaune would not require a woman like her to take the reins, but she would care for his needs right now. A woman's task was to soothe the man who she preferred the company of, though chastity had been prized in her before she had met Ozma.

Her fingers gently teased the sack, feeling those testicles pulse just a little with each throb of his member, as her tongue laid against the soft flesh, not matured and rugged like that of a full-grown man, yet delicate enough to coax out that feeling of being a mother, of caring for someone who required a mother's guidance, though her actions were anything but motherly.

She trembled, her tongue sliding over his cock and then teasing under the head, a shuddering breath emerging from that sweet mouth of his, as he pushed up, her tremors increasing, her hands trying to keep from pulling herself up and letting him wake to a woman making love with him, knowing that his hourglass was still turning, that the candle of his lifetime was still burning, but compared to hers being just a stump, compared to the mountain without end that was her own.

The sands kept on slipping through the hourglass. In six years, he would have children, would have been married to some princess, or a sister of his. Such marriages often were for the stability of the realm, and Salem had seen it before, with the Ee-gypp-tshans… or something.

The deserts had been swallowed by the jungle, ages before. Nobody remembered those people, as humanity had found different culture after a while, the Grimm attrition keeping their society small, as her husband founded empires and guided those who might extend his life by years, as she lamented that feeling of morose sincerity.

She tasted the taste of his male essence. It wasn't something dirty to her, as shame and poise had long since been lost after many deaths. Jaune groaned once more, a child that buried his desires and his wants behind his need to please her.

Another flick of her tongue, as she teased the sack with her fingers, feeling the balls that laid within push against her fingers, as his manhood stood erect for her, as he breathed heavily. Her fingers slid down, to press against the sensitive spot below the sack, pushing against it with a bit of pressure.

As she had been with men since her husband abandoned her, she knew the touch of a man. She had gone slightly wild once a century, to banish the emptiness inside her, to feel how a man's hands handled her.

More pressure, as his cock stood erect before her eyes, the cloying sensation between her legs, as her tongue slid slowly under the head, wrapping around the underside with a lewd manner, unworthy of a princess, as she pressed down on that sensitive little nub. He moaned in his sleep, as his cock erected, and her fingers seized the shaft, whilst her other hand pressed her palm against his testicles.

Skin glistening in the light of the moon, as she delivered soft licks to the sensitive fleshy head, swollen with redness, the smell clinging to her senses, as she teased and delivered the relief that he was aching for.

'It's just for a good time.'

She deluded herself with thinking such, as her hand gripped, the heated shaft a little sweaty to the touch, the pre-cum drooling from the slit, her tongue sliding over that sensitive head and coaxing out more of it, like some kind of depraved mother of softs.

Depravity was no stranger with her, as she tasted his slimy pre-seed on her tongue, as her fingers squeezed his balls. She caught herself before she went wild, feeling the pressure of the young teenager's testes, but keeping things modest. A sweet and tender moment, before hot thick globs of seed splattered over her face, the thick taste invading her mouth, as she gulped down the spunk, tasting him.

She froze, aware of what she was doing now, as she panted, her pussy leaking with need as she pushed herself up from the rock, his erection slowly flagging. Her fingers ached to press against that button of pleasure there, to push the little egg within his rear to bring forth another hard shaft, to coax him into manhood herself, but she halted herself.

Grains of sand in an hourglass, and he would be another grain that rained down onto the ground, as she slowly inhaled and exhaled, the breath turning into puffy vapours with the temperature as it was, her eyes looking at his sack. This was a student, someone who had been a target for Ozma's plans for immortal life, someone that cherished her as a woman and who had asked to marry her, formal-sounding and sweet. Was it a promise or a curse that she had envisaged, as her body shuddered with the need that burned inside her sex, with the burning sensual craving that came.

She wanted more. The insects in the background, the faint rushing of the stream, the smell of his flesh, ripe and ready for a woman… and yet, he was a child. A child who would be an adult with just a few more seasons.

She had not kept score of the seasons that she had suffered to walkRemnant, nor had she cared. Life had been a void, empty of people and such activities, for so long that it had been a surprise to see humans once more.

It had been a surprise and a terrifying thing, as she realized that they held no magic. They feared her, like a goddess, yet Ozma had spoken again and lured her into sweet nothingness once more.

Her fingers scooped up the slimy jizz from his thighs, before she stripped him bare, like a mother would. She had enjoyed long luxuriating baths with her children, as a Goddess of the people, before it all had been torn to shreds.

She hadn't looked upon him as more than just a child she was teaching, not as a man, but as a boy that would be a simple grain of sand, to pass through the neck of the hourglass and turn into a mere memory that she would forget about with time.

He woke up, as she shook her head a little at him, the cool water of the stream brushing over his skin.

"You made a mess."

He flushed bright red, as he realized that he'd had an orgasm in his sleep, Salem patting his thighs a little, giving him a look that was just as usual, not a single sign of her debasement of their relationship given, as she moved without haste, pushing the pants into the stream to wash them.

"Ah, I'm- Sorry."

He was a little churlish at times, but not a bad child. Her lips pressed into a small smile as she laughed, the same laugh as she always busied when she was with those that she cherished.

"It happens. You dozed off and then started to shudder. You are on the cusp of adulthood, after all. Such things are normal."

It was a need within her, as she splashed water on his groin, the stench remaining in her nostrils, the desires within her lower body not quite stilled, as she recognized him as a man. A child still in shape, but a man. He would grow older, until he would find another woman and make her his wife.

It would be another moment of regret, of fear and the dashed hope of life fading.

It would be her duty, as it had been for a year, to ensure that he did not stray from the path.

"About- About earlier… I'm- You probably wouldn't want to marry someone like me."

She would not marry a child, indeed.

She could marry an adult, however. His passing would be a sorrowful day, but it would happen, eventually. A young man who would be like the sand grain that passed down through the ages, as his eyes looked at her with a desire, with a craving in their blue depths.

She touched gently his cheeks, a small smile on her lips as she pressed her lips against his cheeks, the kiss lingering a little, as Salem's expression turned maternal, the smell of the young man like a fresh breath of air after such a while of being locked inside.

"You have time."

She had time too, an endless amount of it. Her eyes glanced at his half-naked form, looking at the stirrings of a man, as her lips formed a small smile, laying her hand on his side, brushing over it. His cock grew erect, her tongue sliding over her lips, looking him over.

"I do, but… but I love you."

A stirring inside her heart, as his cock stood there, erect and needing. If she allowed herself to touch him right now, she would grow to love him like a man. As long as he did not know, she would not be able to recognize those feelings inside her.

"I am immortal, Jaune. You are long-lived, but you are like a stone, worn down through the elements' cruel wear. I will remain like this, forever. You will wither and grow old."

He smelled like a man, as he turned to her. Salem caught herself arching her back, looking at the teenager's cock, knowing that it was a threat to her autonomy. He was a good boy, a good student that absorbed the knowledge that she offered him, sweet when it came down to it. It was forbidden for her by her own rules to love, because as the sand slipped through the hourglass, only pain filled it with the memories of those that she had lost.

"We will go to town, Jaune. We will need more supplies, you dirty, smelly boy."

She teased him good-naturedly, knowing that in her eyes, he was no longer a boy. In her eyes, he was now a man, growing into adulthood. To her eyes, he was yet unmoulded clay, as her fingers traced over his skin, his nudity barely phasing her, as he responded to her again.

His erection grew harder, as her statement hadn't intended upon being flirtatious, but his flushed cheeks were adorable, as her fingers brushed over the skin, as he dipped into the water, closing his eyes and hoping that his member would calm down, her tongue sliding over her lips, leaning forward and gathering him in her arms, pulling him up.

"A completely natural thing, Jaune."

His member rubbed against her dress, the fabric wet now as she let him linger against her, a mother with her son, not a woman with her lover, his head laid against her chest, as the chirping of crickets became louder, as the shattered moon slowly descended, her fingers against his body.

She feigned sleep, as much as she could, trying to recall the last time when she had slept with such a tranquil feeling surrounding her, her arms wrapped around the young man that she had caressed as if he were full-grown.

If he were full-grown, they would be on a bed, rather than some rock in a stream, listening to the sound of the stream and the insects, smelling the water and the surrounding flora, her eyes drawn to the stars, as her hands brushed through his hair.

She had magic, he did not. He was guaranteed to live a long life thanks to his Semblance, or so it was said, but he had uttered the words that were forbidden.

She had a husband before, and death had parted them. It had reunited them and it had shown her the truth of Ozma's desire for eternal life, the cherished nature of their relationship built on nothing more than lies. Their daughters had died for this, and she had buried those feelings, as Jaune dozed on her chest, until the chirping of birds came to his ear. Grimm did not roam these lands, her presence shifting them away as something greater than them, something more terrifying and ancient than them, to keep the boy safe.

'He is so young…'

It was a terrible feeling for her to think about, to lose someone she cared for, knowing that they were but grains of sand to her, slipping through the hourglass. She had seen mountains slowly erode through the weather and the blight, markers that she had carved into the walls of a cliff having grown pale and faded after the millennia, as the young man nestled himself against her, his blue eyes peering into her own.

That his erection was buried between her thighs she pointedly ignored, as he gave a small thrust, a soft exhale coming with the burden that came with having something to care for again.

They travelled to the nearest town, her hand never quite leaving his. A woman who was used to young men might be good for an evening's fun for the teenager, someone who could guide him into adulthood better than she could.

A young man who would grow old and abandon her to loneliness once more,a young man who would need a mortal wife to found his dynasty, like she had once wanted, to replace this humanity with their betters.

Her eyes went over the ladies who bore the signs of being of the night-life, of whose skirts were laundered freshly and whose perfumes were like those of the courtesans of old. Scents that were familiar to her, as she gauged Jaune's reaction through feeling his pulse, their interlocked fingers intimate and soft, the calluses on his fingers enough, as they decided to lodge at an inn.

"A room for you and your son, Miss?"

He was not her son, yet she pretended that he was, just to spare the hassle of explaining why a woman was with a young teen, feeling how he tensed up just a little, not willing to rest easy after hearing how they were mistaken.

"A single room, yes. We are due to travel to the north."

A different environment, where Jaune would grow. She would go out into the nightlife herself, to find someone who would be able to take care of Jaune's needs, for she was too old. Like grains of sand that slowly fell down from the small neck of an hourglass, time would continue to move as slowly as the growing mound of sand at the bottom.

"I'll be out for the evening, Jaune."

She let him know, and he looked at her with his eyes pleading, as she laid the dress out on the bed, having opted for something a little less eye-catching. A cloth shirt, with a skirt that had the marks of the local culture. A set of shoes that fit her feet, nothing like the jewelled slippers that her noble feet had been clad in during her marriage, functionality over appearance, as she pulled the shirt close, the buttons modestly done up.

"Have… eh, have fun?"

She would be finding a girl for him, as a mother and caretaker should, not something that a woman of her standing should ever do, yet holding assurances of their skill should keep herself occupied, whilst the young man would attain a moment of bliss, with the faint memories of their engagement tingling his mind with the hopes and the frustrations of youth, her feet carrying her down the street towards the place where women peddled their flesh.

It was perfume and sweetness in the air, as half-clothed women offered their services to men, their crooning voices distasteful, as she observed them with the practised eye of the woman she had always been, her expression shifting not for the time being, as she let the air of the place sink in.

She had enjoyed the company of men after Ozma, sure. Wearing thin silks and to be paid for the pleasure that she took was something that had been done multiple times, when there had been the burning between her legs, as her gaze fell onto a fit young woman, skin dark and hair green, burning red eyes watching the sights of the people, slipping past the crowd, filching the pockets of those who looked rich enough, giving enough of a hint about what the girl wished for. The coinage that they used these times was heavy and blocky, with the weight of a coin purse almost like a saddlebag of millet, heavy and yet not.

Her gaze slid over well-trained women, branded with the mark of a whore on their skin, showing their place in society. It was tradition, yet these women did not mind their brand, selling their bodies for the pleasure or the coin. They would bear no heirs that would hold a surname, nor would they bear into the world the respect of a man.

'Disgusting… A young man has needs, but…'

Her steps carried her closer to the busiest intersection, women whose busts were prominently displayed showing off clearly how they felt, their need for men's payment clear from their cheeks, hollow with the drug of the bristly pine-tree's sap or the hunger that they fed, several skinny women with ill-fed looks and dirty nails standing there.

Rough men who smelled of sweat and blood walked, picking their woman for the night and going to their rooms, where they would peddle flesh and coin, Salem's expression darkening, as she let her eyes go over the ill-fed wenches that looked like they required the coaxing of coin.

It wasn't good enough.

The son of an emperor, even one who was manipulated by her former husband, would require a woman of pedigree, of some grace. A courtesan, someone who would be experienced in the art of pleasure for a man and a woman, would be needed to bring him the greatest of joys, until the time came where she would witness him ascend the throne and take what was rightfully his own.

She would be a mentor, a guardian, a tutor and an advisor, well-accustomed to hoarding the power and knowledge that was before her, guiding the fate of the young man who had been the one that she had rescued from death recently.

He was a stepping stone towards denying Ozma a victory, something to shatter the immortality that Ozma so craved.

She returned late, unfulfilled, seeing the bed that he'd occupied have a small hill in the covers at the groin, realizing that he had an erection. Sighing softly, she got into the bed with him, a not uncommon tradition between mother and child, which was what they were posing as, feeling the stiff rod tent the sheets and the undergarments he wore.

Wearing the undercloth that she always wore, spun with the finest of silks, replaced once the wear and tear got too much, rather than the dress of unending blackness, woven from the dark essence of the pool of Grimm, she allowed her fingers to guide his rod upwards, giving a slow stroking to the turgid young flesh, growing bigger with time, she supposed, as he was on the cusp of puberty.

She had not found a proper courtesan for him this night, but there might be more nights, as her hand jerked and stroked with a slow rhythm, taming those wild urges of him, hearing his shuddering breath as he pumped his hips to meet her hand, to feel how the flesh below her palm scraped against her hands.

He twitched and came, spending his seed inside his pants, the undergarments stained, yet she found herself not quite caring for that. He was a young man, and she wished to see him claw his way up the world, one moment at a time.

Her hand was drawn back, as she placed a soft kiss onto his cheek, one that betrayed the intimacy that she felt for the young man, as she inhaled the scent of sinful delight, as he moaned her name softly.

"Good night, Jaune."

She'd keep watch, as she always did. You could never be too careful, even in polite society. Fates worse than death came to the unaware, those who held no such power like a goddess like her did.

It was the divine right to rule, after all.

As sands would slip through the hourglass, she would watch the young man reach adulthood and grow, shedding his fancies of marrying her and becoming a man.

She could scarcely wait.

She would, however. It was her curse, the burden she carried.

Doomed to wander the earth forever, until she learned something.

Time… was perhaps cruellest of all to her.

He watched her sit in the chair, nearly half a year later. They had been trekking out into the wilds, her training accelerating in the wilds, whilst they currently occupied a room in an inn. Tougher methods of forcing the sword strokes into his muscles, to train him to be a warrior without peer, her crimson eyes observing him with a practised eye, as he felt the desire burn again.

He was shirtless, as the sweat glistened on his upper body, strokes with the blade followed by shifting his stance and then delivering the next slice, dice and backward dash.

"Again."

Her voice was like the crack of a whip, but he imagined her naked, like he'd seen before under the waterfall. No such opportunity had came to him, though the conversation on the rock when they had been out, near-on half a year before, came to mind. He had orgasmed in his sleep and she had seen it, poking fun at him.

She had remained with him, the part of a mother played by her to the hilt. Walking with her down the market, her words gentle and like that of a mother made him feel the loss of his own mother, and his father's often stern admonishments.

It made him feel filthy for sneaking off to the empty rooms and thinking about her, curling around him like a snake, like some kind of wanton wench, his loins thundering with that feeling of being inside her, of being the one who could coax out the deep guttural moans of Father's courtesans, as he'd heard before.

Like a mother she acted, but he wished to have her be his bride, to hear her whisper his name in her deepest desiring moment, to claim her as his wife and to swell her with his children, with the offspring of the beautiful woman who had saved him and himself.

Desiring to be the one to push her down to the bed, to hiss in her ear to be quiet, to ditch the facade of being 'mother' and just become 'Salem', his hard shaft riding against her in his sleep, only to wake to the indulgent, sweet smile that she showed only to him, as she laughed quietly.

"Another accident of youth, Jaune? It's understandable, you are still young."

One morning, he'd found himself between her legs, thrusting in his half-slumber, and her arms lightly shaking him, his erection pressed against her thighs. A light wag of her finger, as if she was a mother warning her child not to do such a thing, and the shuddering breath as he pushed forward, as her arms held him and she soothed him as his seed splattered in his undergarments.

She hadn't complained about it, as he stripped off his undergarments and she handed him a laundered pair, the washing always done by her, but it had burned with shame inside his heart, knowing that this goddess, this divine creature that had mentored him, was out of his reach.

It rankled him to feel that she was so far removed from him as to be a mere fantasy of his, imagining her wearing the finest of silks before the bedroom, as she traced her fingers over his skin before he would take her as his empress, to make her with his child.

Three weeks later, they were in the wilds.

"Again, Jaune. Your backstroke is lacking."

A stern voice, as her eyes were on him still, and an hour's breadth later he was in the stream, washing himself. Salem was doing something else, preparing for their evening meal, something that she had already hinted at would contain rabbit. The snare that he'd set had caught two, and he knew that there'd be some guts to be used as bait for fishing later.

He was aware of his surroundings, his weapon in his hand until he caught sight of someone leaning against a boulder, a jagged wound on their side, holding on to the rock like it were their last remnant, blood leaking into the water. Red hair was plastered against the cheeks that belonged to the young woman, perhaps only a few years older than him, perhaps the same age. Armour which looked formal and strong, rent in one side, a long gash that'd been raked straight through the bronze-reinforced side, a plate shattered and jaggedly standing up.

"Are you okay?"

The sword in his grip was put aside, as he hurried to her, her green eyes observing him. She held her hand against the wound on her side, keeping standing only through force of will and determination.

"I got hurt, there was this big Grimm that caught me unaware. My Xiphos was bent, and I only managed to-"

She was about to fall into the stream, as he caught her, his arms grabbing a hold of her, the redhead slumping against him, the two of them landing in the stream, from which he emerged.

He dragged her out, carrying her half-way to the shore, before he did a cursory inspection of the wound, looking at the side that'd been injured. No naked bone was visible, thankfully, but there was the sign of puncturing within the wound, which was beyond his ability to help with. Pulling her into a carry, he carried her the best he could, her body light in his grip.

"Thank you, thank you, I am-"

Her red hair clung to her face, as green eyes peered at him, Jaune's expression trying to put her at ease, as she groaned, her skin flushed, pale and yet beautiful, nothing like Salem, yet still as wonderful as the woman had been, sans the red eyes and pale hair.

"I'll get you to someone who knows how to heal. Don't worry, it'll be okay."

He continued to carry her, stumbling and nearly dropping her when he did, Salem standing there in the moonlight, turning to him and immediately showing her concern. Her steps were hastened, as she directed him.

"Put her down there… now, fetch me some water."

There was an urgency to her voice that spurred him on, all thoughts of how sexy she looked banished from his mind as he grabbed one of the waterskins and then rushed to the stream. Thoughts of washing were far from his mind as he filled the waterskin, pushing the water into the skin and then carrying it back, finding the unknown girl within Salem's hands, as she beckoned for him.

"Heat the blade at the fire. Plunge it in the flame."

He pushed his metal blade into the fire, looking at how the metal seemed to grow hotter and hotter as Salem pushed out a hand, and the tip glowed a little, as he handed it to her. He wore gloves, of course, but Salem's hand started to sizzle, as her skin stuck to the heated blade, as she looked at him.

"Bite down on the cloth, girl. Now."

The girl did as she was asked, Jaune watching how Salem worked with the body of the woman, a crude stitch made to close the wound, as Salem's hands worked, washed clean with the blood. It would be a wound that would scar, most likely, but the girl would live. She had passed out from the pain what seemed to be hours ago, yet it had been an hour of sorts.

"She is stable and will need to rest… Jaune, how did you happen upon this… girl ?"

The disapproval in her voice, as well as the worry that he could hear splashed through her voice, made him feel guilt. It wasn't his nature to let someone suffer, as he watched the girl's chest rise and fall, seeing how pretty she was. Not like Salem, not like her at all, but superficially beautiful, her weapons still at the stream. Salem kept them safe, after all.

"I found her at the stream. She had been mauled by Grimm, but- but is she going to be alright?'

A question that bothered him, his gaze directed to his teacher and the most beautiful woman on this Remnant, as he saw her lip petulantly push out, her gaze directed straight to the unconscious woman.

"She will heal, and the wound will seal up. She seems to be quite the warrior, given that the wound wasn't deep."

The sword had been put to the side, Jaune realising that he'd be the one cleaning it after this talk was done, Salem's expression looking severe and serious.

"Still… Why did you save her? She could be an enemy."

Jaune didn't know how to answer that question, knowing that Salem was putting him on the spot, her arms crossed below her breasts, in that haughty yet arrogant angry manner, clearly pushing him to answer, as if she wasn't thinking about how to punish him.

"It was right, she needed help! You helped me too, so- so I wanted to help her out!"

Salem's expression was thunderous, but it relaxed slowly, looking at him and then down at the girl, a shaft made out of flame appearing in her hand, solidifying into a spear made out of burning rock, her eyes glowering at him.

"Just charity, Jaune? I could end her right now. Nobody must know that you are alive, Jaune. Nobody ."

It was him being a prince of a nation, of course. The girl wouldn't know, but others might discover them and then there would be no time for Salem to train with him, no moments where he would be able to seclude himself and think about her gorgeous form.

"Spare her, please?"

The ancient witch stared at him for the longest moment, before she nodded, the spear crumbling into dust, leaving not a trace for him to see. He released the breath he'd been holding, aware that there was more relief in his body to see that she'd shown mercy.

"She will be your responsibility, Jaune."

The two rabbits that had been skinned and their pelts already plucked out to dry were already roasting on the fire when he noticed them, too captivated by the new redheaded person that had joined them.

'I did the right thing.'

Time was passing, and a young man was growing older. Salem had been intending to kill the young wench that she had so painstakingly slaved over to save, to show to him that he was more important to her than some girl that could be replaced.

A girl whose hair was red like the flames of fire, whose skin was soaked in a sweat that clung to her skin, her eyeshade faint, as the colour mingled within the darkness, wounds that would mend with time, yet her body trembling a little as she took a deep breath.

She had spared the girl on his whim, because there was that nobility in him, that inherent right of kings and queens to dictate the law to those who were to execute it. He laid in his bed, and their guest was currently laid out on a cot, a small pillow made of bundled cloth that had been used to shield her dress from wear and tear from the rough wilds used to push her head up.

'A pretty woman.'

The armour had been shed, yet her nakedness was not important right now. Plump breasts, crowned with peaky nipples, marks on the flesh of a life of harsh training, protecting someone, or some village. A woman who was a warrior, yet who had not seduced her young charge.

Her gaze was drawn to the young man again, seeing his body lay there, skin pale under the glow of the moonlight, as her body drifted to his side, kneeling at his side, a small rag dunked in a cup of water, stroking over the sweaty skin, smelling the scent of a man who had saved another life, who had been the man who had been instrumental in staying the wrath of a witch, as her head dipped low and she tasted the sweat off his lips, her tongue tracing over their softness.

He was a man. A hero. Her cruel anathema, as she felt her heartbeat bump and pulse, as her hand slid down. She had not found a whore for him yet.

A delicate touch to the linen cloth that had contained his manhood, standing erect there. She could feel him throb, as her tongue invaded his mouth. It was immoral. It was wrong and it was defiling a young man's innocence.

She had stuck to mere manual draining of his lust, but her body craved the touch, as she let her fingers stroke over the outline, her head turning to their guest. She was unconscious, her breathing light, her fingers stroking over his shaft, and suddenly, a change happened, and Salem the queen rose, as the girl woke up, Jaune unfulfilled. Striding with bold steps, she could see how the girl seemed to be getting to a semblance of wakefulness.

Her hand covered the girl's mouth before she could scream, looking into suddenly terrified green eyes, her fingers pressed against that mouth to silence it.

"You are lucky, child, that he is one who I hold in high esteem."

It was a lie, as the child was hers to rear, to grow into an emperor and to leave, like the grains of sand in the desert timepiece that was the hourglass of her life.

The girl tried to get up, but the wound prevented it. The breasts looked perky, a touch larger than her own, as Salem dispassionately stared down at the young woman. There had been no need for illusions, no need to hide how she looked, a terrifying queenly witch whose gaze could imbue others with fear.

'Ozma…'

Anger shot through her, as she pulled her fingers from the girl's lips to leave her time to speak.

"You will answer only when spoken to, child."

She was a woman, a mother once at a time, yet a woman nevertheless, her body brimming with the power to dominate even the gods, should it be such, as her gaze bored into the eyes of the young woman, her fingers touching against the girl's chin.

'Perhaps… sixteen?'

Mature, yet not mature enough to be the spouse of someone.

"What is your name?"

A cough, as she seemed to require something to drink, Salem putting the waterskin to the girl's lips and letting her drink, before pulling it away, the sodden skin of the young woman glistening in the light of the stars.

"P-Pyrrha of Nikos. My name is Pyrrha of Nikos, and… and I am a champion of the Emp-"

A flash of flame, as a blade materialized around the throat of the girl, the girl's mouth shutting immediately, as Salem bore her gaze down at the girl, her red eyes bearing down on the girl, as her fingers reached out and seized her throat, heedless of the caress of the flame-blade that she'd materialized. It would heal up.

"Are you here to kill my charge?"

The girl was an assassin. She knew that she should make an example out of this girl, someone who would need to remind Jaune that he was not safe, that Ozma's assassins were out there to snuff his life out. Anger blazed inside her like a flame, as she knew she looked like some Grimm-spawned witch, as the girl seemed to lose control over her bladder.

"What? No, I was- I swear, I was out on a patrol, to guard the village! I was- I was only bestowed the title of champion for my performance, my father and mother live in- please don't kill me!"

Salem could hear her Jaune waken to the screams of the girl, and annoyance peaked inside her, as she stared at the assassin, whose lies would be like the day rising with a moon rather than a sun, a folly of nature, of course, as she stared into the green eyes.

"What are you doing?! You're scaring her!"

Jaune had to interfere, of course. He would be that heroic young man that would save the assassin who would kill him, ever unaware of how the mortal world worked. There was no kindness.

"An assassin for you, my prince. Stare upon one who was a blade of your noble father, the Emperor…"

The green eyes went wide, as she looked at Jaune, then at her, Salem's fingers manipulating the blade, and the girl's skin seemed to swelter with the heat's glare, as beads of sweat dripped from her side.

"She's scared, Salem! Hey, eh… are you here to kill me?"

The girl would lie. The girl would of course lie, to spoil the hopes of the young man when she carved out his throat in a moment when Salem was unaware. The young man was the sole obstacle to Ozma's quest for immortality, and she was not-

"Your Highness, Prince Jaune d'Arc?!"

Salem could see the surprise and the ill ease within the girl's eyes, as she looked straight at her charge.

"Salem, no- Yes, I am Jaune d'Arc, student of the witch. She's… She saved me, when my life was threatened, a few years ago, I'm-"

The redhead's eyes looked less surprised, and yet, more worshipful. A shudder shot through Salem's body at the sight of the girl looking at him.

"I owe you my life."

Loyalty to a king, to an emperor. She would have killed the girl just to be sure, yet something stayed her hand, as Jaune smiled at her, like everything would be alright, like how she wouldn't be holding his hand after blasting the girl to bits for daring to slay an emperor in the making.

"I… I offer you my weapon, my prince. A debt of honour, that I cannot repay to you. To your teacher, I offer my bent head, and my vow that you shall have my protection for as long as you deem it necessary. I am Pyrrha, granted the surname of Nikos for Victory. I am at your command, as your shield or your spear, my prince."

The vows of a somatophylax, a bodyguard to those of high status. Her eyes looked honest, devoted, almost worshipful for the choice that she was given, as Salem reined in her powers, and the flames disappeared.

"Jaune?"

The rituals for accepting a somatophylax would have to be observed, as she pulled the blade out of the earth and then held it up to him. He took it, and she watched him observe the blade.

"Nick your palm, so that it bleeds. An Emperor shall swear his sworn shield in."

A guardian, during the dire days of the life that he'd spend amongst those who would draw bows and unleash arrows, a warrior that would be at his side when she could not be.

Blood welled up from the cut, as she grabbed his wrist and then pressed the bleeding wound to her lips, an unusual gesture, yet none that would stand up to the ancient rites, marking her lips with the blood of an emperor yet to be.

"I am one who has witnessed aeons of time pass and wither away. You are tasting the blood of a man who will be your emperor. Swallow his blood and know that it is the finest blood you will ever taste, therapon. "

The girl swallowed, the word for servant or slave slipping easily from Salem's lips, for that was all that she saw the girl as. Swallowing the blood of a man who was higher than her mere common origins, even if ordained as a champion by the man whose throne her blonde prince would ascend, she could see those green eyes peer at her.

"Taste the richness of it, taste how the rich fluid of life flows into your mouth, therapon. You will be his somatophylax, Pyrrha of Nikos. Let none spill the blood of the one to whom you raise the shield to guard him! Let none ever taste that rich life-wine which you have partaken of."

She swallowed, and Salem's lips curled into a smile, as Jaune looked uncertain, her hand pulling his away.

"I am the shield that guards him. I am the spear that jabs at his foes. I am nothing, whilst he is everything."

The oath of a guardian, a protector of those who bowed before an emperor, a champion, yet not fulfilling it. Salem's eyes narrowed, as she pressed a fresh leaf of the herb that clotted wounds to the bleeding gash, as she looked at the young woman, fresh blood on her lips, like the paint of a courtesan's lips.

"You will mend, Pyrrha of Nikos. Your prince awaits your service. Swear upon the unending river of time that you will not break your word."

Jaune did not understand the gravity of those words, not like Salem did. To swear something on one's life, as eternal as her own was, and those who were fleeting like the mortal ones, was to swear such a thing and ensure that it was upheld.

"I swear upon my life, that I will not break my word. Be it summer, fall or winter, or spring's greenery, I swear that I will uphold my word until my dying breath, or so may the Gods smite me with their light."

The words were more formal than Salem expected, yet it was still salvageable, as Jaune looked like he wanted to say something, as he glanced decisively at her, before he spoke, grabbing her hand.

"You'll be my partner, and- and you'll help me with my forms. Salem always says that I'm a little sloppy, b-but there- you are a good fighter, so you can help me."

The girl looked like the trance of solemn ceremony had been broken, as Salem's arms wrapped around his shoulders, as she pressed herself against him. How he had said the word 'partner' had flamed within her the brief spike of anger and frustration, as her voice was like a soft whisperer.

"A prince commands, it seems… Not yet an Emperor, I see."

He did the adorable twitch of his cheeks, as he looked down at the girl that had sworn her loyalty to him till her dying breath.

"N-no. Pyrrha Nikos, I command you, serve me as my somatophylax, to be my shield and my spear and my sparring partner. When Salem is not here, you will be. And-"

Salem cooed in his ear, laughing richly.

"And, my prince? A prince does hesitate, it seems…"

Fire within his eyes, as he looked down at the woman staring up at him.

"And you will serve me against dangers seen and unseen. If I command you to kill an old man, you will only ask 'Who is it that requires to be slain, my emperor?'. If I command you to lead the guards to expunge rebels from our noble empire, you shall do as I have commanded. I am the man who you tasted the blood of, and who shall not have to worry about a dagger plunged into my back. I-"

Salem's tongue stroked over the sweaty skin, tasting the youthful sweat and feeling the warmth of his body, as he spoke like a man. Happier times and bliss came to her mind, as she bit down on his neck in a claiming manner without even intending to, as she inhaled his scent.

"I will not be slain by mortal hands, but I will live, and I will see you take your last breath in my service, Pyrrha! You will not breathe for another man, for you will be the woman who swore to protect me until her dying breath!"

It made dark feelings rise within her, as she could see the worship in those emerald-green eyes, that swelling need to please this prince that had proven himself a ruler, an emperor. Salem could see that the woman who had been a girl up until her anointing with royal blood, was given her first order, and she accepted it wholeheartedly.

A plan for the young Emperor to take a woman's womanhood rose inside, as she saw the features of the redhead, as Jaune broke his composure and asked whether the girl, Pyrrha, needed something.

'You… you kind young man.'

She would not need a courtesan, after all.

It felt a little painful to admit that to herself, as their companionship was now broadened to two people.

She would have to make sure that the young man loved someone who was not an immortal witch, whose life was but an endless mountain of sand grains in the hourglass, spun around once every millennia.

He deserved better than one untouched by time's cruel designs.

Pyrrha was a welcome addition to their little companionship. When she'd healed up after a few days, she had explained to him the formal style of a spear and shield, her body well-trained, going through the simplest of forms with him with the patience that could be expected of someone who was a champion, as he watched her and Salem educate him.

She studied the written language as well, to befit her status.

It was… it was a little bit difficult, once he realized that she was always there. That he was always with her, that he couldn't snuggle into bed with Salem as his mother, their room always as 'the young husband and his mother' and 'the wife'. He and Pyrrha had been given their own room.

He felt like he was ready to burst. Pyrrha was dressed in a thin dark blue garb, her breasts like beacons that called to him, working on sharpening her weapon. The spear weapon was ready to strike at all times, the focus in her eyes something that she never lost, ever since swearing those words to him.

"I'll see what Salem is up to."

A whisper of something, as she turned her gaze to him and he could see a bead of sweat drip from her chin, her hair loose and falling into her face, a throbbing in his groin as he could see her youthful features, so young in comparison to Salem's aged maturity, as he swallowed again.

"I will accompany you."

They moved to Salem's room, only next-door, but he caught sight of the witch in a short white dress, fitting for the scenery around them, her breasts barely visible through the cloth, but he could feel the presence of the woman, as Pyrrha took her place in the corner of the room, ready to spring to action.

His balls felt like leaden weights, as he felt how Salem beckoned him to her, how she continued to beckon him, his erection already threatening to escape the undergarments that he had bound extra tightly. He felt ready to pop, as she made him sit.

Salem's hands stroked over his shoulders, as she massaged his shoulders, a habit that she'd taken to recently, ever since he'd started to grow more muscle mass in his upper shoulders.

"A strong young man… Jaune?"

His focus was on his cock. His focus was on his manhood that was between his legs, between the strap that kept it there, throbbing and pulsating with need, as he felt her fingers knead his skin.

"Hmm?"

She moved to his neck and he felt how she continued to stroke over the skin. He imagined how her hands would feel stroking his shaft, as she let go of him, his erection like a leaden weight between his legs.

"Have a good night, Jaune ."

He felt like coming right there, as she blew in his ear. She was adamant that there was nothing between them, but he couldn't stop thinking about her, turning around and hugging her. He could play it off as a teenager's wish for a hug, as her hands stroked through his hair, her soft whisper in his ear.

"Yes, I care for you too, Jaune. You should sleep."

A flash of fantasy. Opening the door and then pressing her to the bed, to feel how this woman shrieked his name, no longer a 'mother', but a woman who was below him, as he felt the organ in his groin throb and pulse.

"Hmmm… such a spoiled young man."

The desire to cum was something that lurked in his mind, as he got up, the cloth still hiding his erection, thankfully. He was aware that she wouldn't do things with him, but he hugged her still, nestling his head between her breasts, a soft purr in her voice as she continued to rub his head.

"Enjoy your night ."

He laid in his bed, sore balls full of cum. He wanted to touch himself to the thought of his goddess, the witch who was a room down, aware that Pyrrha had taken position, aware of what he was doing, his fingers pulling the strap loose to let himself relax a little, having felt the soreness of his manhood suffering the effect of being tied down for so long, just watching her alert eyes in the flickering candle-light.

"C-can you get into bed with me?"

It would distract him a little, as he wore only the loose clothing, Pyrrha following his orders without any complaint. She would do whatever he wanted, but he did not want her. She smelled good, and he turned around, feeling her stiffen immediately as his manhood pressed between her thighs. It had slipped loose from his garments, loose for the night.

"My liege?"

Her voice was different, but he couldn't help himself, groaning, as his hands grabbed the toned muscles of his guardian, the friend that he'd saved with his witch teacher's aid. One thrust and then, sweet blissful relief as he moaned the name of the one he loved, Pyrrha hearing his almost savage panting like some beast that wanted to rut, as seed pasted her creamy thighs with an even creamier stickiness, her cheeks burning red as he gasped and groaned.

"S-sorry. I'm…"

She turned, her red hair illuminated like a corona of blood, her green eyes glistening in the dark, as she touched his member softly.

"It's okay, my liege."

He felt shame. She wasn't the woman he had imagined, but she had felt good. It had been relief, as Pyrrha flushed.

"We are… we are husband and wife. S-so…"

Her cloth was parted, unveiling her breasts.

"P-please?"

He gently kissed one of her nipples, as he felt that desire slowly abate, knowing that he wasn't getting hard again. She was not the woman he cherished, but he fondled, suckled and caressed her. Her eyes were vigilant, but her body was like a ripe olive, plucked and plundered by his fingers.

He thought she enjoyed herself, if the shudder was any indication. She curled up against him and whispered something in the ancient tongue.

" Se Agapo ."

Words of love, of more filial love than the lust of eros, as she spoke them again. He thought he could see a shadow move, but it must be the flickering of the light.

"If you ever need me, my liege… I will be there for you."

He knew that, as he fell asleep within her arms, his seed drying between her thighs.

There was little progress between the young prince that was to become an emperor and his bodyguard, chosen for her beauty and her ability to protect. She had pushed the final little nail into the coffin for the young woman by massaging his shoulders in the manner that would put most men in an amorous mood, with the little tug that was required to ensure that he would not pick her.

They should be making hot wild love, not acting like sappy lovers. He had tuckered out immediately after making the girl reach her peak, and the guardian stared at her as she emerged from the shadows.

"How was it?"

The girl blushed, Salem now more accustomed to the girl. If Jaune ordered her to kill herself, the girl would do so without even a second thought. It was… it was a touch humbling to find someone so selfless, so entranced by the young man who had made her his woman.

Pyrrha shifted the sleeping prince from her, her breasts bare and the smell of seed in the air. The girl was shy, yet Salem had seen it before.

"He… he accepted me, my lady."

Salem sat down on the bed, the creak enough, as she looked at the blonde, the instrument of another strike against Ozma. She couldn't help but think about what he would be with time.

A warrior. A champion of the Empire. An emperor of Arcadia.

"M-may I- may I inquire, a- as a request?"

She motioned for the girl to speak, as her other finger touched over the curve of his jaw.

"Why do you not act? He- he cherishes you above even me. You instructed me, to- to be at his service. You, my lady, I- I do not understand."

A princess did not dally with men who were not her husband. A queen did not desire other men. A young man who held within him the shackles to love, to a life with a young man who would wither like the cruel twist of the timeglass, a skull that would be ground to sandy motes, all to fill the hourglass, someone who she would care for.

"It is not fated to be. I have lived long, child… I… I cannot give him what he will wish for. He earned himself a wife, a companion, a champion who holds little peer in her skill. I cannot be an immortal queen to him. I…"

She never had voiced her thoughts. She looked at his sleeping face, smelling the rich scent of his seed in the air. She craved him, as Pyrrha looked at his slumbering face as well.

"I will do as you ask."

The girl would worship Jaune. The seeds of love had been seeded. Marriage in her day had been political. Jaune would have a queen he could grow old with, of red hair and green eyes, not of red eyes and pale skin and the title of 'queen of this Remnant'.

It was a vile venom that stung at her, as she took a deep breath to remain with her calm, trying her best to soothe the worry in her heart for her own failure. Pyrrha looked at her and then spoke damning words, damning to Salem's ears.

"He… he moaned your name."

Her heart shattered, melting into a pool of warmth that wrapped around whatever fragments that had not melted, as she looked at the young man and then leaned down, kissing him on the lips.

He snored so loudly that it made her wonder whether he'd woken up, but she was unsurprised to see that men after-orgasm usually tended to sleep. It was common, at least when her husband and herself had been intimate, so she had never really looked at it.

"You are below my status, Jaune d'Arc."

She knew that he'd love the girl he'd saved better. It would need time. It would need more of these encounters, to batter down the barriers to his heart. He needed to get over his crush on her!

She feared that he might not. She feared the feeling that it brought in her chest even more, the hope which blossomed within her heart at the thought of being beloved by someone once more.

He looked so sweet when he laid there, the smell of seed in the air, as the redheaded girl attempted to remain modest, even with his manhood looking like it was still soaked with the spent juices of a night of pleasure. It was a sweet little vice that she had not indulged in, aware that his burgeoning masculinity was growing more severe with every breath she took, as she leaned close, stroking over his loins. His legs were a touch hairy, she could see that, yet she knew that there was nothing that Jaune would glean from her as his partner.

It would be a century, maybe two with his supreme longevity, and he would be an old man, no longer able to travel the world with her, bedridden with his seventh or ninth spouse over the long lifetime that he'd had, and not a single shred of attention for him.

Sticky sensations tickled at her finger as she brushed over his cock, feeling the member there, a sting of desire, as the woman in the bed with him shifted away, her cheeks burning red.

'Do I?'

She hated being watched, yet her body burned, wishing to feel how he was with her, to see that look on his face as he stroked his manhood when she was 'not aware', hearing the grunting and the groaning of her name.

The pleasure that she had sought from other men when desire had needed to be stoked within her loins, was nothing.

Her body trembled, as her fingers pushed the limp penis up, her fingers tracing over his sack, lightly pressing against the heavy testes that'd been milked dry by his release, and she cast her worries to the side. He was a young man and she was just ensuring that he was taken care of, she told herself.

'It is to show a girl what a woman can do, to prepare her for her marriage to him.'

There would be vengeance had, as Salem's lips pressed against the shaft, smelling the seed on the fleshy head, tasting his male essence once more. A flame lit within her, as she glanced up to his unconscious face, absorbed by the feeling of him growing once more.

Her attention went to the mess that he'd created, seeing the sticky strands of seed drying in his pubes, seizing his balls and then tugging on them lightly, to milk that hard shaft a touch by pressing on those sensitive orbs, her lips pulled away from the shaft.

"You have no experience. Come closer."

The redhead obeyed her superiors, as Salem's tongue slid over the head and then teased under the sensitive underside, wiggling and twitching a little under the head, as more pre-seed mingled with the seed that'd already erupted. A man was sweet when he was milked properly of his lusts, or so the woman who had explained sex to her when she had been young, during her father's internment, and she would do that same task.

He would not need to love her, but this guardian would be loved. She would be the woman who would guard over the young emperor until he had put babies into her, to found that glorious dynasty, as her fingers guided the callused hands of the woman who'd be his bride and guardian of sorts, to his testicles.

'I don't feel jealous.'

The girl was already breathing heavily, as her fingers touched lightly those heavy testicles, unworried about how it would feel. She could call this a… an issue on adult relations.

"Cradle them. Feel them lay in your hand."

The sweet whisper of her lips was loud in the room, as Jaune slept like the child he was. A young seedling, as she looked at the green-eyed beauty, whose fingers lightly massaged his balls. It was the duty of a woman to ensure that a new wife knew her duties in the bedroom for her man.

"How do you feel?"

Her face was crimson as she brought her face closer, looking at how his balls laid in her hand, Salem's fingers stroking softly, as Jaune gave a soft snore, her expression looking hesitant, Salem feeling a little endeared, as Pyrrha gave a deep groan.

"I… I know that he can't love me like he loves you."

Salem felt an inordinate amount of pride in hearing that, as she looked down at his erect manhood. Men were so easy to handle, as she made a soft clucking with her mouth.

"He will love you. You are beautiful. Marriage is just an opportune exchange of what a man and a woman can bring…"

He grew harder than before, Pyrrha's head sliding down to the shaft, teasing it with her tongue. Jaune responded like any teenager who slept like the dead did, Salem's lips forming a smile, seizing Pyrrha's head.

"You will be with him, my dear. He will have his fancies driven from his mind with your womanhood around his shaft. A… a woman of my standing would not need to be with a mortal."

She knew her body well, with the breath that escaped her lips forming a little puff, her magic reaching out to the atmosphere around her, heating up a little, as she touched Pyrrha's chin with a finger, as her hand seized the warrior's wrist, her head lifted up with a touch to the hair of the girl.

"He is my liege."

The words didn't mean a thing, as Salem guided the stick of fleshly pleasure to the girl's lips, leaving her to taste his masculinity, to see how her green eyes met with her own crimson ones, as the smell of decadence and sex reached her nostrils, as she could hear him stir a little, and her fingers brushed over the rod, before Pyrrha's head was pushed down. A soft hiss, as he woke, and Salem guided the girl's head to the base, spluttering and choking, but no biting down on his manhood, as she watched, as Jaune woke.

"S-salem? Pyrrha, what- oh…"

A finger touched his lips to silence him, her magic forcing a little silence upon him, as she forced the redhead to look up at him, to look at the man who would be impregnating the warrior that had sworn herself to him, like a mortal man would.

She was unfit for him as an immortal, as he would fade with time, merely another grain of sand in the hourglass of her accursed existence, Pyrrha's skin showing clearly a flush, as she tugged the girl's head up, reminded that not everyone was immortal like she was.

"Ahh-ghal… hmm, my liege…"

The sweet murmur of the girl, as Salem's dedication to her vengeance rose once more, her hand pushing the girl's head down again, the girl more prepared now, as he looked consternated.

"A bit of a practical test, Jaune… Enjoy."

He did, like all men did. As the young redheaded wench suckled on his manhood like a child did on a honeystick, he whimpered and groaned, his eyes beckoning at his guardian for relief, as Salem knew better. A woman's need, burning with that desire within her eyes, to ensure that she would ensure that her man would love it.

"Salem, I'm-"

He was able to speak after Pyrrha had gotten into the rhythm, the sounds making Salem feel a bit of eagerness at how he was responding to the young woman's touch. A man should lavish the attentions of the woman who married him, the woman who was in his bed with her right now doing that for the purpose of pleasure, as her fingers traced little patterns through the redhead's hair.

The woman who was not yet despoiled by a man continued to worship that manhood, Salem's nose picking up the scent of arousal from the girl, as Pyrrha continued, Salem holding the young man down with her magic.

"Enjoy it, my dear prince. A mortal woman for your pleasure."

Her voice was like a treat, as he seemed to gasp and groan, desiring that release that was soon to come with the redhead's mouth, gasping and groaning, trying to get up but Salem did nothing to allow him to.

He came like a geyser, the redhead choking on his cock and on that male release, the smell giving her pause. It was that desire within her, that burning desire that didn't stop, as she got up, running a hand over his cheek.

"Enjoy her, my dear prince. You will enjoy her, until after she has defended you and passed. A woman who fits the prince of the Empire, who would serve the young man until her dying breath."

She kissed his cheek. Why, she didn't know, but the wash of maternal feelings, knowing that he would be better off, as he looked at her with those blue eyes that made her heart ache and clench, burning with that pleasure within them as Pyrrha continued with her task, as the ancient witch left the two young lovers to their task of procreation.

A pregnant waif would not be able to fight, so the plans would need to be hastened slightly. It was just as well that dear Ozma realize that there was still a legitimate heir to the throne around, with Jaune's own actions making him suited for such a part. With his slave-woman around, none would be able to lay a hand upon him.

'I have helped him grow… A man who has tasted a woman's sex will not have feelings for someone who will be around for longer than he will.'

The stinging in her loins and the faint trace of his pre-seed on her lips, left her unsettled.

Jaune felt Pyrrha's fingers brush over his cheek, her apologetic look enough, as he turned away from her.

"Leave me alone."

She'd been encouraged by Salem. She'd been encouraged, and he'd lost that feeling to Pyrrha, as his bodyguard remained in his bed, Salem having retired to her room as the 'mother' to the young man and his wife. He felt how Pyrrha's fingers stroked over his head.

"She commanded me."

He knew that. He knew that she was a sweet girl that would just try to help him out, sparring with him and training with him under Salem's direction. She hadn't given him the pleasure of her own body, even with his sore balls having emptied between Pyrrha's well-toned thighs.

"I know."

He wouldn't let it stand, even as Pyrrha's hand continued to stroke over his head like he was some child in need of comfort.

"I don't want to love you."

He spoke the truth of his feelings. Compared to Salem, who was an angelic creature, Pyrrha was plain. Strong, a good friend, yet plain when it came to what made it special.

"I know."

She knew, and yet she continued with the orders from Salem. His balls still ached and he knew that if he wished to lose his virginity, she would do as he asked. He was her prince, the man who she had sworn herself to, but he did not want her.

Pale skin and ashen hair, red eyes that held within them a cruelty and a love that seemed to make his heart beat faster, as his erection swelled once more, Pyrrha's touch soft, quietly brushing through his hair.

"I am yours, my liege. No matter what you wish, I will fulfil it."

He knew she would, and he felt a soft whisper of desire in him, knowing that Salem would never sleep with him. She would remain aloof, stating that he shouldn't crave her, and he only became aware of him holding on to Pyrrha in a manner that was possessive when she exhaled. Beautiful, she could be called, but compared to the beauty that was the witch that had ensnared his lusts at that early teenage age, she was but a common pebble.

"My liege?"

A quiet whimper, as he looked at her. She was beautiful, he knew. He could see Salem's face staring at him, and his erection grew harder, as he looked down at Pyrrha.

'She must never find out…'

"You're practice."

He seized her head and kissed her on the lips, heedless of her having satiated her thirst earlier with his male essence. She gasped, kissing him back, a guttural sound that made her sound like a beast, Jaune's hard shaft thrusting against her again. They were sticky, they were making a mess, but for a moment, he could forget about the red hair and the different-sized breasts, as he imagined that he was kissing the witch that had ensnared his heart, as she gasped, and his body moved.

His member pressed against her cheek, hard as it could be, Pyrrha's head angled at an angle that showed her beauty, contrasting with that bestial desire for the witch.

"I love you, Salem."

He would proclaim it with the parchment, or with the town crier, as Pyrrha's green eyes mingled to a muddy, bloody red in his mind's eye, as he felt her lips ensnare the head and he forced himself into her mouth again, not giving her the pleasure of his cock going where it should, where she had told him to go.

It was rough, animalistic rutting, his mouth groaning the name on his lips, Pyrrha's hands pressing against his stomach as he hunched over her, her head pounded as if it were the hole between her legs. Animalistic, beastly sounds, imagining the pale witch and her worshipful lips, as Pyrrha choked on his manhood.

It wasn't the bodyguard that he was violating, but rather the woman who tempted him, who cherished him and taught him things and enflamed his soul with that rapture of delight. Pyrrha's hands lightly pushed him off, her hair tangled by his hands, as he looked down at her, her gasps and sounds loud.

"I love you, Jaune."

He shuddered, as she mimed the tone that Salem always had when she lectured him, willing to cater to his fantasy, as he stuffed her throat full of his shaft again. It was a content little sigh that escaped him as he buried his meat within her throat and then felt the release hit, as Pyrrha did not struggle, letting his seed explode out into her throat, even at the lacking air that she had.

He rolled off her, and she looked at him, white seed dripping from her lips, as she placed her hands on his manhood, kissing it gently.

"Did it feel good?"

It was not the woman he loved, but she had sated that need within him, her expression light and searching, trying to glimpse at what he wanted of her. There was that desire within him, as he knew that Pyrrha was chestier than Salem was, her mammaries more swollen than Salem's own, since Salem had once murmured that she had barely been out of her growing teens and they had shrank ever since she had been blown apart once, her expression looking wistful.

"It did. I'm…"

Pyrrha smiled at him and she wrapped her arms around him. He smelled his seed, her sweaty body and her bare skin like a delight, but not his woman.

"It's okay, Jaune. She… she wishes us to be together. I will be whoever you want me to be. A wife, a bodyguard, a… a whore ."

Her body was beautiful, yet it was not the body of the witch who had stolen his heart. He knew that she would be whatever he wished, whatever he had decided she would be.

'I won't shame her…'

She held love for him, in her own way. Even though he could never love her back in the same way, she would be the hand of his will, when he was present.

The next day, they washed off the dregs of seed and sweat, Pyrrha's hands brushing over his back, as Salem watched like the 'mother' she was trying to be. His erection grew harder, as Salem smiled.

"Do take care of him, dear… My son needs his manhood caressed."

There was a sweet little tint to her voice, as he watched her, Pyrrha's fingers squeezing against the base, his gaze watching Pyrrha's sweet lips part as she leaned down, sucking on the head. Salem dunked a rag into the water, rubbing over Pyrrha's slick skin, Jaune smelling her scent, as Pyrrha serviced him with her fingers and her mouth, his gasps louder as he was ready to come.

"And now… let me wash him a little."

The rag touching his skin was almost electrifying, as his seed splattered over Pyrrha's milky-white skin, his bodyguard giving a soft little gasp, as Salem made a tutting sound.

"Your woman will not like that, Jaune. It is time that you two do the deed. We will retake your heritage soon enough."

Her words were telling, as he felt how something inside him let his desire grow, as he felt the need to claim her rise, as she offered such a bargain to him, Pyrrha cleaning him off. The rag brushed over his skin, as Salem smiled, indulgent and motherly. It was clear that she had already dismissed him as a husband.

He would change that.

Three days later they were on the road again, wearing the thin leather jerkin that he had been given by Salem for his protection in contrast to the breastplate that Pyrrha had been adorned with, sculpted for the feminine form, making a different group that travelled, Pyrrha's weapons having been retouched. The shield that she used to fight with had been embossed with metal arcs in the style of his family crest, and her weapon had been reinforced. Her red hair was pulled down in two braids, joined together in the style of the current fashion, as she moved with dedication.

It had been three days since they had been 'intimate' and Salem had retreated, and the feeling of having Pyrrha with them was still new and fresh, but the knowledge that she would take care of his needs was something that lent him strength.

He wasn't going to be touching himself, his erection already feeling the ill-ease of being cooped up. Salem moved with that confident gait, her dark cloth dress unstained by the world, but her body shapely. Ever since he had spent himself between Pyrrha's legs, he had been aware of what a woman's pleasure could be. Pyrrha did not complain, yet she served without another word.

They sat around the flames of a campfire that he'd built together with Pyrrha, the bundle of furs that served as the bedroll for the night already laid out, since the summer season was slowly pulling into winter, the chill coming along with the stars growing more distant, the moon's ascent colouring their faces with bony white chill, as Salem spoke quietly.

"Why do you not have a moment together, dears? A man and his woman should cherish one-another."

It was a suggestion, perhaps a command to touch Pyrrha, to be with her as a man was with a woman, but he could feel a sense of unease slip through him, as he felt something was amiss. A rustling in the bushes, a Grimm emerging from within, bony white plates covering its body, Salem barely seeming to notice, unworried, his blade in hand, Pyrrha already preparing to leap to the battle, Salem almost surprised at their sudden guest.

"Deal with it, dears… It seems that another with us dulls the effect for the elder members of the Grimm… Alas, we must continue then."

His body sprang into action, as Pyrrha sliced through the tendons of the Grimm flesh, snapping jaws blocked with her shield, as he slid under the creature, gouging into the belly, smoke emerging as he cut deep, before he rose and then finished the swipe-slash, cutting through the Grimm, Pyrrha jerking her weapon free.

"Good… I will keep watch then, children. By all means… do get along well, dears."

A tacit command for them to fool around, to bring Pyrrha to climax and to love her. Jaune watched Salem get up, and his erection pulsed with need again, as Pyrrha's soft murmur reached his ear.

"My liege…"

She laid down on the bedroll and wrapped the furs around her naked upper body, beckoning him, knowing that Salem would be watching. Doing it with Pyrrha did not make his heart beat faster, but he knew that Salem would be observing them.

She always did.

She was always watching, as Pyrrha's fingers traced over his groin, to arouse his member to her caress. A sweet smell, something that Pyrrha had dabbed onto herself in the moment when he'd been watching Salem, as he snuggled up with her arms around him.

He thrust between her thighs, grinding his shaft against her pubic mound, feeling how her pussy was wet like that of an eager whore, her mouth making a sweet moan, as she offered her neck for him to bite down.

He bit down, as Salem sat down at the side. His balls were aching already, as Pyrrha moaned his name, and he uttered hers. She trembled, and her legs wrapped around him, her mouth making the sounds that were expected, as his cock trembled with the need inside his balls.

"Cum."

Salem's voice reached his ear and he felt himself explode, as the woman seemed to have managed to get behind him, touching his back, his seed splattering over the redhead's stomach, a tutting in his ear.

"It goes inside, Jaune."

A chiding tone, as her fingers lightly brushed over him, as she bit down on his neck, feeling the teeth press against his own. It was more intimate than he'd felt her act, feeling how he hardened immediately.

"Did you not think that I would not notice, Jaune? I am a witch, after all… Slave? Your prince requires cleaning."

There was that sweet taste of her on his lips as he tried to kiss her, managing a light peck to her cheek, before she tugged away from him, pale fingers touching him, pressing him against the furs, against Pyrrha.

Pyrrha followed her orders, and Jaune felt how she cleaned his manhood with her lips, feeling like he was powerless, as Salem's magic restrained him, as she rose. Salem's eyes were an angry red, blazing with the frustration that she had with him for not sleeping with Pyrrha.

"You are resisting, Jaune. She has the martial strength, she will give you children. Let those fancies of being with me go! You deserve a mortal wife, not someone who will watch you die!"

The half-panicked voice that she used was enough to make him quiet down, as Pyrrha looked at him, as his cock was cleaned by her lips, her eyes looking with a question for him.

"But I love you!"

Salem's expression was dark, as she got up.

"I'd better see her virgin blood on the fur, Jaune. I will not let you up until you have been with the woman I have chosen."

Bonds of air seemed to restrain him, as Pyrrha got up, looking at the redhead's eyes plead with him, as she exposed herself, cum-covered stomach, as she grabbed his manhood. The feeling of her fingers pushing his cock against her slit, before she slid down, her pussy lips rubbing against his shaft, her hand reaching out, her spear flying to her hand and then angled down at her groin, pressing the tip against her flesh, drawing a bloody line over it.

Her aura immediately started to work, as she laid on top of him, the spear put to the side, in order to keep herself safe, as she slid down, his cock dripped with the blood.

"Ah, it… it hurts."

She smiled at him, as she mended the cuts through her Aura, smiling at him, as he groaned, feeling how she continued to massage his member, her fingers tugging and stroking, the blood coating his skin, nevertheless continuing, as he felt a sizzling orgasm go through him.

"Whatever you wish of me, my liege, is my command."

The words were formal, as he came over her groin, Pyrrha crawling up next to him, her lower body stained with seed. Salem wandered into the camp again a little later, looking at the two of them, a soothed expression on her face as she saw his member.

'She injured herself to give the illusion that her maidenhood was pierced, all for me.'

Pyrrha was worthy to be at his side, to respect his wishes.

"It had to be like this, Jaune. Immortality is a curse, it is a curse that rests within me, and you should not partake of that which is immortal, lest you lose sight of what it is to be mortal."

The words didn't matter. They continued the next day, Pyrrha feigning weakness after that night, as she spoke of her Semblance, something that worked with metal, Jaune watching as she pulled several metal staves out, slowly twisting them with an application of her Semblance, turning them into a set of rings, as she offered him one, the metal wrapping around his arm in a comfortable manner, and another to Salem, a gift for the woman.

"You have some use, girl. A good trait, to fashion jewelry… We must find time to test whether it applies to other things, but vengeance will be swift. A wedding between Chancellor Ossos and Princess Andromedae… A wonderful festive time for the 'late prince' to return to his noble father, wouldn't you say?"

He couldn't help the feeling of helplessness that shot through him at the thought of not being with her, of having to face his father and make sure that the throne would be his.

Immortality was a boon for times like these.

Ozma was bleeding, half of his arm crushed under several of the fallen pieces of roofing, the blasts having taken out part of the ancient temple complex, as she strode to him, her hand glowing. The guards had been dealt with, her charge's voice resonant, as he demanded they respect their new Emperor, Son of the previous one.

"It is a pity, my dear… Your plan has been foiled."

The girl looked terrified, just as she should, the other sisters of her student looking weathered, their father pinned to the wall with the spear that had been thrown by Jaune's bodyguard, who had appropriated a new spear from one of the men, a sign that things were changing. The girl was getting up again after Ozma had blasted her with a beam of magic, unharmed due to her Aura, yet rattled.

"I'll return, Salem. You won't stop me."

It was a burden on her soul, as the final flash rose as the blast took his head off, the animating spirit leaving the shell that it had chosen for inhabitation, a shudder coming from the body as bowels were voided.

It was the trouble with her late husband, who would soon be coming back in a year or two. Whatever arcane process worked the ancient mechanism of reincarnation, it did not keep her husband in a state that was easy to parse, as his name changed and his appearance changed, but the thirst for immortality never did.

"Guards… Guests…"

Her blonde student strode with the grace of an emperor, the white cloth that covered his body unmarred, as the girl had guarded him from harm. Immortality was sweet for her, as her body would regenerate with enough time, but it would not allow her the time to pass away, as she was frozen in that eternal twilight of life.

"I am your Emperor. Arcadia is my empire, and I will rule justly, unlike my father."

The throne that was raised upon the dais held a furred pelt of a white lion, the twin golden arcs that had been etched within the marble of the throne above the head of the Emperor of Arcadia. A tremor seemed to shoot through the young Emperor's body, a ripe fruit crushed under the fine boots that she had him wear, specially tailored for this moment, her body already arranged to the perfect accompanying position, as she was three steps behind him, to be the woman who would guide.

He stood before the throne, before he sat down on it, his back resting against the throne in a confident manner, his gaze directed at her, before he beckoned her to him. It would be right that the advisor would be invited at the side of the Emperor, as 'Ozma' had definitely been in his fleshy shell as Ossos.

"I have returned once more, with my mentor, the lady Salem of Arcadia."

The title was irrelevant to her, as she watched him for any sign that he would be springing some surprise on her. His hand rose to the girl, Pyrrha watching for the signal.

"With my future wife, Pyrrha of Nikos, champion of the former Emperor, my noble father. She has proven herself to be my stalwart champion and has saved my life. For her sacrifices, I have decided to take her as my wife, as an Empress should hold strength in her arm and will in her heart."

It was all going according to plan. The few months of travel had been laborious, yet Jaune had slept with his woman, shedding the fancies of a chance to be her man.

It would do. He would forget about her, as the sands continued to slip through the hourglass.

Three weeks later, he presented her with a gift, as his empress sat quietly on the seat in their private chambers, the bedding prepared behind him, the bed looking to be as fine as it always would.

She pulled the small chest open, spotting an elegant torque of dark metal, gilded in parts, with thick bangles of the same dark metal, with twin arcs shown, the jewelry gaudy. It was a gift for her, as she slid them on.

"They are beautiful. Fine craftsmanship, though I will venture forth in a few week's time, Jaune."

The personal use of his name, fitting for private encounters, was sweet, as she saw him get up, the smile on his lips charming. If he had eternal life, she might spend it with him.

"I've been waiting for this for a long time, Salem."

He definitely must be talking about the freedom that he would have with the Empire under his control now. He was trained to be a ruler that was martial as well as mentally sound, with the best she could offer.

"Pyrrha? Could you check for listeners?"

A good bodyguard did as was asked, as Salem straightened, knowing that he would wish to tell her how good a job she had done, to make sure that they would have a long and lasting relationship. She might come by in a half-century or so, given no serious events occurred.

The door shut with a soft booming sound, and Salem looked at him, as he approached. He smelled manly, that faint smell of his body mixed with the oils, and her eyes widened a little at the erection that was pushing the cloth garments up a little.

"Do it."

A jerk and Salem's air was cut off, as she noticed a set of shields behind the bed, an unladylike shriek from her lips, as her arms clinked to them. Her wrists were now locked behind the bangles, as the metal warped and twisted, as he watched her. The clothing came off.

"I'm sorry."

'What?'

Seeing him erect took her breath away, as the empress looked at the man who she had been gifted by the witch herself, as Salem tried to kick him away. Immortality did not mean that she was strong, as he grabbed her legs and parted them. He looked like Ozma had, but kinder. Warmer… hotter, as she tried to jerk herself loose, the air cut off, as the choker was pressing against her throat.

"I'm… I hate lying to you, but I don't want to live in a world where you are not with me."

She trembled, as he got between her legs, his erection pointing upward, and she noticed how swollen his testicles were. They looked like they were about to burst, the skin looking reddish.

"He has not been touched for near-on a month. My liege… She is restrained."

'What?! No!'

She tried to say something but he fell onto her like a hungry lion, his mouth pressing against her own as she was kissed, her lower body bucking, as his erection laid against her pussy lips.

"I want you, woman."

Claiming words, as she tried to say something, only a guttural sound coming from him.

"Even if I have to take you."

'I haven't taken anything… none would dare to approach the advisor to the Emperor, and I was content to…'

Fear, anticipation and more, as she tried to tug her hands free.

"You have a wife! You took her chastity!"

She would appeal to his better reason. He was sickeningly chivalrous and honourable, and she knew that it would bring him back to reason, only to hear his servant-wife speak.

"He has not been with me. He wishes only for you."

It surprised her enough to feel the head of his shaft press against her lower lips, as she looked at him. A young man, eighteen, putting her to his shaft like some common tramp, some low-born whore.

"Do this, and… and I will not…"

She was looking at herself, as he looked into her eyes and she could feel him pushing into her, as his mouth found her neck and he bit down.

"Get pregnant with my children."

A gargling choke, as his cock made her cum. It was an indecent orgasm, something that made her feel like a weak woman, as her arms were parted and his lusts were to be slaked upon her.

"I love you."

She should say something bitter and angry in return. It should be a retort that would show her displeasure and disappointment, as she looked at the long-lived mortal son of an emperor, now an emperor in his own right.

"I love you too."

The right words didn't come out, and he rose, like some ancient statue, his shaft inside her, and guttural groans emerging from his mouth. Heat washed inside her, as yogurt-thick seed gushed from the head of his manhood, as she looked at the man.

Her legs had wrapped around him to be impregnated, her voice was telling him to keep inside of her and his mouth was telling her that he loved her, even as the redhead was armed and ready to fight off any challengers that would dare to bring death to the emperor.

She went limp, locked with him as she was.

It was the wrong decision, it was the wrong time. It was not necessary for her to have pulled him in and to whisper her love for him.

Time was a cruel mistress and to mortals the cruelest of all. His hips slowly moved and she trembled, as she moaned at him again.

"I hope you have a better performance for the next go, Jaune… I did not train you to be so weak ."

It was flattering to feel him harden inside her.

'Why did I do that?'

It was terrible, it was feeling and love and more, things forbidden.

The sands slipped through the hourglass for everyone but her, but her heart still felt love for those that she had deemed worthy.

She giggled like a girl for the first time in what had been millennia, aware that Jaune was going to be making her feel good, and the shame and frustration inside her at the feeling that he was making use of her like some common tramp was just the regular degradation that no princess would easily suffer.

Her skin glistened, as he continued to mate with her, the seed dripping down her thighs as he ravished her. His cock hardening inside her as the bangles tightened, the woman in the room with them holding her there, as her pussy milked his seed. She trembled, burning with that need, as Jaune slipped out, his moaning like a charm to her, as he looked down at her.

"I was violated by you, Emperor ."

He looked weary, but his manhood was hard and needy, standing there like a seed-coated pillar, his eyes looking at her, before he threw himself on top of her again, his shaft sheathing itself inside her, as she grunted.

"You're getting my children, Salem."

The thought of birthing children again, feeling how her body swelled with the seed of a man, a blessing on this world. Her lips pushed into a snarl, as his hands groped her breasts roughly. It was the feeling of being below a man, someone who used her, as his cock pumped into her sex again like some conquering, violating barbarian.

"We'll see about that, boy ."

She craved children, she craved the touch, as she pushed back a little, his hard cock slamming into her, Salem's lips panting, as the neck-torque clung to her throat, choking her, her eyes meeting with his, as he smacked her breasts. The pain brought pleasure, as she bared teeth at him.

It was not unusual for her to crave intimacy with a man, yet her resolution to use contraceptives was always firm, as immortality required her to die. Death would be a blessing at times, as it aborted the child, yet it hurt. Immortality was painful, and yet, the young man pounding away at her was an emperor, one forged by her.

The smell of sex and seed clung to her as he railed her, as she hissed at him like an angry wildcat, her body arched against him as he continued.

"Show me what you've got, Emperor ."

He was rich in stamina, she knew that. The sweat dripped down onto her body, the skin glistening with her own sweat and arousal. To be fucked like this was a treat, as the boyish teenager took his liberty with her, like some man that owned her, as a princess was owned by her student, a man who was now an emperor.

His manhood was sore and raw as she watched him pull out, the morning having come already, the sight of his red member making her feel a little twinge of guilt, as the pussy lips parted a little after he had left her depths.

'You silly boy…'

He had raped her like she was some weak woman, some princess that required punishment. The neck-torque still choked her air off, as his manhood was red, and air was restored to her throat with the redhead finally collapsing due to tiredness. For an empress, her wakefulness was a problem… but Jaune's stamina had been apt. Had it been a day, or two?

She lazily pulled the torque loose from her neck, pushing her hands against his chest, as he rolled to the side, looking tiredly at her, as she placed a cool finger on his cheek.

"You have some nerve , Jaune d'Arc… What you did was a crime under any law that is within this country…"

He looked guilty, Salem could see that, as her finger brushed over his chest, the magic restraining him, as her fingers slid down. Muscles, abdominal and chest, as she leaned her head down to place a sweet little kiss between his nipples, as she looked at him.

"But you are the Emperor, so you make the law."

A touch to his sore penis made him whimper, the rich dark desire to harm rising, as her finger lightly traced over the member. She placed a little kiss against his sack. Her thighs clung together with his seed as she crawled back, her butt in the air, as she placed the bangles at his side, her nose pressing against his sore cock.

"I'm sorry, I'm-"

She silenced him, as her eyes watched carefully for his response to him magically muzzling him, her body rising, as she snapped a finger and he could speak.

"I will go forth and declare your law, Jaune ."

She walked, or rather limped, towards the exit, the redheaded girl stirring to wakefulness immediately, a smack of magic to her head making her join her spouse in immobility… though Jaune was still conscious. The redhead was raised by a gust of air and then placed on the bed at his side, whilst he was pressed down, in order to keep him there. She was still upset with him for daring to… do such a thing.

"Rest. I will return once more. It seems some new laws about women's violation need to be made… and I intend to ensure that you will not entrap me in some marriage. I am immortal."

She should not feel bad about this, as she stumbled a little after she got herself properly clothed, nearly falling once she left the room, several of the guards seeing her body in such a rather 'immodest' manner, their Emperor's seed still drying on her bare legs.

"Please do not allow for the Emperor and the Empress to leave their chambers. It seems they wish to spend their day together in order to ensure that an heir to the throne shall be birthed. I must wash myself after ensuring that they are well-appointed to their duties in the bedchambers."

A lie that none would dare wish to check, as she strode to the chambers that she had been given by her student, ordering several of the maids to run her a bath, luxuriating within the cool waters, as warm water was not something that was readily available, a failing of the system without magic.

The heated baths of her youth, powered by the magic within her, were now only a memory, as her body oozed the seed from her loins out with a push of her pussy muscles, the water a little cloudy with how much he had put inside her.

A woman knew when she got pregnant. A woman always knew, it was fundamental magical theory. When a new life added itself to the mother, its magic called out to her. A little life that would last, as she would feel how its little spark joined hers and grew…

And was disappointed when there was no spark. There was no spark, because Jaune was not of her kind, not of the purest humanity, like Ozma had. Magic had created that spark of life four times, yet there was no spark here.

His plea for her to get pregnant with his children would go unanswered, and Salem realized that she was crying for the young man who had ravished her, who had lost his virginity through raping her, though the effort made her respect him.

A man who was direct would require a woman who would support him, and it had been some time since she had last allowed a man to be with her. Dipping her hand in the water and splashing it onto her face, she tried to think of the feeling that he had given her with his clumsy attempts at making her his woman, at claiming the one that he would never be able to claim.

'You silly boy! Look at what you have done, you have made me… care.'

The feeling in her heart, that beating and throbbing organ that she had seen outside of her chest entirely too many times, before her body would restore itself to original status once more, was heavy. He would love her until his end of days.

He would love her until the last time he would be with her, panting and groaning in his final moments, begging her to get pregnant with his children, to be the woman who would take that seed, eternally unchanged from her youth up until this moment.

'A cruel, cruel feeling of loss it will be.'

To stand at the grave of a man who had caused her heart to beat faster, who had brought her a spark of joy that wreathed her heart in the ancient laurels of love and care, what she had only thought of in the context of her former husband.

"It is so cruel…"

Her thoughts voiced aloud, as she dunked her head under the cool water, heedless of what it contained within. Magic burned inside her body already, and she felt the water boil around her with but a thought, steam rising from the waters, as whatever male essence was within was boiled with her, as she got up, the steam rising from her body.

It was time for edicts, laws and other such organisations. She could not mope all day about what would be, she would not be the woman who would concern herself with the feelings in her chest about love and that caress of a man.

She emerged, a pristine white dress that had been made to her form worn, the symbol of Arcadia embroidered in golden thread, forming two arcs, as she strode towards the throne room, watching the people scatter before her, as she emanated the power of her magic to ensure that all who watched her felt dread.

An empire did not run itself with its emperor too stubborn to be a boy that would be with the redheaded waif that swore herself to him. If he had just been obedient and raped that girl rather than an ancient woman like her, the world would be easier.

"The court is in session!"

She called out to whatever advisors were left behind from the previous emperor, seating herself on the smaller throne of the Empress, not caring with the formality of the position of Emperor. With the seed within her, she knew that she technically counted as the Empress, as he had declared his love for her like a fool.

He was a fool, indeed. She would have to punish him for making her love him, like the stupid son of an emperor he was!

Jaune saw the look on Salem's face as she entered the imperial apartment again, Pyrrha having given up on springing him free, the white dress that he had gifted her as his official mentor fitting her well, the pale skin and the veins showing clearly her beauty, as her red eyes looked at him with that fury that she'd had, as he felt himself able to move again.

"Pyrrha, get some oil for the anointing of one's skin."

The command from her lips was rough, as she sat down, as he tried to shield himself a little, to prevent her from being able to give him some punishment, as he had violated the law and she was determined to impress upon him that none were above the law.

A soft whisper that came from her lips went unheard, as he took a deep breath and peered up into crimson eyes, still naked as the day he was born, her body smelling of the fine soaps that she had in her room.

"You ravished my sex, Jaune of Arcadia."

The words were like an accusation, as she burned with that cool revenge, Jaune could tell from her expression, her fingers touching his cheek, a burning touch, like she was going to set him on fire, her finger tracing over his skin and leaving a trail of tingling behind, as she touched his cheek and forced his gaze up to her, as her eyes met his own.

The heat around the two of them made the air ripple, as she looked at him, and the redheaded servant approached, as Salem let her fingers shift down. Burning the skin was in her plans, undoubtedly, as he watched her, the almost tender expression on her face somehow giving him the shivers, the burning sensation fading, as Pyrrha was motioned to come closer, Salem taking the small dish in her hand, as she poured it over his stomach, starting to rub it over the skin.

It felt like sizzling meat was being rubbed against his skin, as he shuddered, her tongue pushed from between her lips as he glistened, her body rising, seizing Pyrrha by her hair and then throwing her on the bed, the redhead not resisting, knowing that no matter what Salem did, they could not kill her.

The feeling of being so close to Pyrrha was strange, as Salem's finger pointed at Pyrrha, who was suddenly rolled onto her back and pressed against the bedding, his nostrils full of the fragrant oil's scent.

"You violated a princess and you did not even offer her a ring in marriage… That will not do, young man."

He wanted to say something, as her hand grabbed his manhood, the flesh still somewhat tender, growing harder as the slippery hand stroked it softly, her eyes strict.

"Make love to her. Do it!"

Commanding, a near-frantic tone, as she looked at him and the feeling of a vise slipping around his ballsack was felt, as he shuddered at the sensation, feeling the heat wash over him again, as he looked at Pyrrha, who was a servant, a guardian and not the woman he loved.

'Can I do that?'

Salem demanded that he do this, but Pyrrha was not the woman he loved. He couldn't obey that order, and he felt Salem lean down on him, her breasts pressing against his skin, a wicked expression on her pale face. He had came inside a woman for the first time this day, spending a lot of time with her, to make sure that she knew of his feeling, his cock now painfully erect.

"Rape her. Make her feel what an Emperor's broodmare feels… Stop feeling like you can love me! You are not immortal as I am, even if my former husband seeks a way for immortality."

He had heard stories of his mother's family having once guarded a mystical pool that would grant anyone immortality, and he wondered whether that had anything to do with it, the burning sensation in his loins, as Salem seized his manhood, a look in her eyes that was not friendly, as she squeezed his balls.

"You will make her yours, Jaune."

The question in his mind rose about how he was to do that, as he looked at Pyrrha, seeing the flush on her face, the redness of her cheeks. If the immortal witch wished that he were to violate her, then he would, yet it did not feel like he was doing something immoral, his body reacting to Salem's touch, as he was released, getting on top of Pyrrha, Pyrrha's body immobilized, as Salem leaned against him as he took his place between Pyrrha's thighs, ready to push himself into her slit.

It yearned for him, he could tell. Glistening wetness accompanied the expression of brief mourning, as she smiled at him, a smile that told him that it would be okay.

"Fuck her, Jaune. You are an emperor, she is the woman who is your empress."

Salem's breasts pressed against him and he thrust into Pyrrha, a gasp of pain, as she resisted his push into her a little, before her womanhood yielded, Salem's grip disappearing, as he started to move.

Pyrrha's moans were almost whore-like as he could feel how they built up their pace, his arm grabbing her leg and then shifting her a little, driving his shaft deeper into her, similar to one of the icons of such a position that he'd been shown by Salem during that part of his education, feeling how Pyrrha's tight sex milked at his shaft. It was a sweet bliss that continued nevertheless to flounder a little, when he knew that she wasn't the woman he cherished and loved, knowing that Salem was the witch that had ensnared his heart. He moved, yet Pyrrha did not do much more than moan, pleading with her voice to be with her, to give her what he had been told to give her.

Salem would be happy if he took Pyrrha as his empress and forgot about her, but as he bent down slightly, Pyrrha's head rose to meet his own, a kiss snaring his lips, dissimilar from Salem's lips during that brief spell where he'd claimed her lips, yet feeling a tingle of something go through him, as his balls felt a throb, as Salem's fingers sent a pulse of heat through them.

He came without reserve, groaning Salem's name into Pyrrha's mouth, as green eyes pleaded with him to use her like he thought he would use Salem, begging him to treat him like the witch that he loved, as Salem's fingers squeezed his balls with more expertise than he'd ever thought she'd have.

"Get pregnant, girl. Give him heirs, as many as you can bear."

A command that he would heed, knowing that it was Salem's desire. As he thrust into Pyrrha, she moaned again, her body trembling at his touch, at his manhood inside her. The witch's fingers let go of his balls, as she appeared at his side, sliding her arms around him.

"You will never be lonely with her. She will accompany you until her days are at an end, Jaune."

It was a command from the ancient witch, one that told him that he was rejected, that his desire to claim her as his empress had been squashed and the embers stomped out. He could see her already moving from him, as he grabbed her arms and dragged her next to Pyrrha, Salem unresisting, laid there next to the woman whose sex was wrapped around his manhood.

"You cannot love me, Jaune. I cannot give you the children that you wish for."

He didn't wish for anything but for her to smile, to be with him even if he grew older and older. The parting would only come when he could no longer walk with her, an old man when she was still as fresh as the dew upon the world, as she would walk it until it was after his passing.

"I don't care. You are my woman, I am not going to let you be alone."

He was vowing that, as he drove his manhood into the redheaded woman that she had selected for him, a firm grunt coming from his lips at the sensation of Pyrrha's tight pussy wrapping around his cock, the warmth continuing to burn through his lower body, as he began to feel the sensations slowly fade away, as he got into the rhythm, Salem's body laid there, observing him.

"You are a fool, Jaune of Arcadia."

The question rose within his mind if he was indeed a fool, or merely a man who loved the ancient witch that had rescued him, as he drove himself into Pyrrha, feeling the need to do as Salem had requested and bring this woman below him to fruit with his seed. As Pyrrha seemed able to move, she joined in, her breath moaning, as her legs wrapped around him. She was claiming in her own way, even with his hips continuing to clap against her skin, the heady smell of sweat in the air, as he began to lose sight.

"You are a lovable fool, my liege. If loving you is foolishness, then let me be your fool."

The words made him cry, as he knew that Pyrrha could be depended upon, feeling how his orgasm arrived and he moaned her name. It was her name from his lips, Salem's expression somehow relieved, as the orgasm ebbed from his loins and he felt the burden rise on him, as he tried his best to keep everything under control, trying to keep himself in that steady rhythm, as his cock hardened again with the Aura in his body, as he felt Pyrrha gird herself against the bed, leaving him to feel that burst of energy, as Salem watched them. He could see her fingers pluck at the dress, fingers that delved in her honeypot a moment later.

"You should love each other. She loves you, Jaune."

Salem sounded like she was complaining, as Pyrrha's head turned to her trainer.

"You deserve love too. You taught me about my duties as a student of the way of the warrior."

Pyrrha was the best of the best in his empire, the one that he had inherited through virtue of blood, as she continued to squeeze and milk him, her breathing coming like slow gusts, bringing with it that sensation that he wasn't making her feel great, a feeling of disappointment coming to his chest as he saw that Pyrrha was distracted, looking at Salem. He knew that he would not love Pyrrha as much as he loved Salem, but Pyrrha was a warm woman.

"You should not wish for my love, girl. You are but his empress, whilst I am but an unaging mountain compared to the small grains of sand that you are."

He reached up, kissing Salem's lips, holding her head, and there was no resistance or warning, as he was still buried inside Pyrrha, the warmth slipping through his body as he felt his cock harden once more, the remnants of his previous orgasm slipping out through his impaling shaft, Pyrrha's breathy moan loud in the air, as she milked his shaft with her pussy lips, a snarling, soft breath that continued to rumble in her throat like a growl, as she saw him kiss another woman.

'I am in love with this woman.'

He told himself that, feeling the burden on his shoulders increase, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, aware of those feelings in his chest exploding out, knowing that the woman he was kissing was the woman that he had fallen for.

All those nights, all those lengthy talks. Knowing what made her into the woman she was now, an ageless beauty that never seemed to fade or would ever fade, accursed by the gods and a husband who craved immortality.

He was not some hero of the storybooks, nor was he a man who was able to grasp the world in his hands and shatter it with magical force, as he was not alike to the witch who had stolen his heart and made it weaker when she was there. The sweet kiss that lasted until he came for air, as Pyrrha gyrated her hips to make him love her harder, Salem's lips parting softly, her tongue flicking over her lips.

"You are a deadly venom to me, my dear… How can I ever deny you? How can I ever wonder whether you were not there to test me?"

The question hung, as he watched how Salem seemed to grow even more beautiful, as she laughed and seemed less worried.

"You will breed with this woman an heir, and I shall be the educator of your heirs. You are an emperor, and I am naught but your mentor. I will not be an empress, yet I will teach your children. Be they male or female, I shall teach them what humanity has forgotten, and when you pass this mortal existence, I will raise to you a great monument, to a man who has never been able to forget this accursed existence."

It was an offer that anyone would want. A dedicated teacher for the children, someone who was able to protect them from the hidden dangers. A monument to himself, for anyone to see for thousands of years after his own demise, something that she would keep standing for years upon years.

Pyrrha tightened around his manhood and he felt sure of himself, thrusting into her once more. It was the customary way to remain inside a woman to ensure pregnancy, or so his teacher had said, as she spoke to him still.

"Everyone will know the name of the man who loved me during his life, and not the man who wishes to achieve immortality, as I am now."

Jaune knew of her husband, a man who incarnated in different young men every year or so, if the woman in his bed did track them down and kill them. A task that would take her time up, hardly more than a passing thought to her, and his family had been one of the man's targets…

'It would not be the right choice to nip that in the bud.'

Salem would leave, eventually, and there would be no need for her to stick around. He knew faintly that she wished to destroy her husband, whose body was within the state of incarnation, different faces yet same soul within the body. A man who could be anyone within the world, without the knowledge of what wickedness lurked within.

'The stories of the fountain of immortality…'

It had been fairytales by his mother, the former empress, his sisters knew most of them by heart. A woman was to train in the arts of womanhood, as a man was taught warfare and governance.

It was a devious dance of politics and ensuring that the people did not revolt. Pyrrha kissed his chest, as she obediently laid back, and he pulled himself free from her sex, the pussy lips parted to see a gooey load drip from the pussy lips, her asshole glistening from the overflow of juices.

"And I will memorize your name. You are a-"

He placed a finger on Salem's lips, the woman's monologue interrupted, as he got between her legs, an endearing smile on her lips.

"Silly boy, I cannot bear you children. You would be ensuring that nothing would be d-ooohh…"

A mother, a guiding light, a teacher and a courtesan, wrapped in one. As his skin mashed against her own as he took his woman again, she moaned wantonly, another utterance of those three words of love coming from her lips unbiddenly.

"I love you."

He knew that he did, and she trembled, tears from her eyes, as she closed them and exhaled.

"I guess there is nothing that can be done about that, then… Then I will do the same. I cherish you, Jaune of Arcadia. You will be a man who I shall take as my man, until your death parts us. I am unchanging, and you are but a candlewick that is to be extinguished with time, the grains of sand that fill the hourglass that keeps on turning…"

She looked so old, her fingers touching his cheek.

"As sands slip through the hourglass, I will cherish you. You are what makes my life less empty, Jaune of Arcadia, Emperor of Arcadia, man who has taken a witch as a lover and has made her into a wife."

The look in her eyes was ancient, as she knew that he loved her now. He would make her a woman who cherished him, who would bring him joy in the bedroom and outside, but she would not, could not bear the children that she wished to give. They were not compatible, as he lacked the immortality that she had, and the magic that came with being the first creation of the Gods.

It was a cruel fate for her to love a young man like him, who held no such magic of his own, who would never bless her with a child of their own making, with the magic that came from the heart that she still felt beating in her chest with craving and desire that he could see.

Jaune knew that being her husband meant sacrifice and caring for the difference between the two of them, and the feelings that they shared would bind them together like a firm glue. Pyrrha was inconsequential, easily replaced should it come to that.

Pyrrha, as his bodyguard and empress, was someone who could be trusted, as his manhood hardened once more inside her. Pyrrha was his age, and she was beautiful in her own way, as she laid back, her breasts like a beautiful display of femininity.

"I am yours, my liege. I do not mind being the woman you have children with."

It was not the way that she said it that struck at him, but the abandonment of her own desires, for his own. She would sacrifice herself for him, to love him as her husband and her charge and birth the children that an Emperor needed.

"She will serve your needs, Jaune."

He kissed Pyrrha's lips tenderly, noticing how soft they were. They were soft despite her rough training every morning, the feeling of her clenching depths around his shaft like a vise sliding around and pulling and tugging.

Another gasp from her lips, as he pulled out, and her kiss against his collarbone was gentle.

"I will leave, if you wish me to leave, my liege."

A question, for permission to leave the two of them, the witch and the emperor, as he watched her.

"No, Pyrrha… stay."

A smile on her face, forced and awkward, as he looked into her eyes, feeling the hardening shaft grow stiff like a mighty oak, the smell of sex in the air, as he caressed Pyrrha's cheek.

"I love you."

He was on his back a few moments later, as Pyrrha mounted him like one of the amazonian warriors, her pussy pulling his manhood in, the heavy weight of Pyrrha's muscular shape like lead on his chest as he looked up into her eyes, a shuddering breath coming from her lips, like it was a challenge to even be in the same space as him, his gaze watching clearly how she trembled and shivered, as she pushed her hips down to impale herself on his shaft once more, a savage sound from her lips as she trembled a little, the feeling of her sex clenching around his manhood like a beacon for him to follow, as he thrust up. Salem's pale hands grabbed a hold of Pyrrha's nipples, as she peered over the redhead's shoulder, directly at him.

"Impregnate her with your children, Jaune."

The words spoken were not a question but rather a command, as he thrust up into Pyrrha's sex, his breathing like a low rumbling gasp, as he shuddered a little, tasting that sweet taste of his own blood in his mouth, from biting down on his lip in desire, as Pyrrha threw herself into lovemaking.

It was guttural, rough sex. It was like a weight had left his shoulders and he was able to move freely, Salem's hands manipulating Pyrrha's nipples, tweaking them whilst she continued to look at him.

When he finally came, it was relief and release, as Salem slipped down and he felt a set of lips polish over his sack, feeling that touch slide up, a tongue that would never have done this for any non-royal, the sensation burning as he felt his seed gush out, Salem clearly desiring to please him, his hands on Pyrrha's hips.

"Until my last gasp, my liege and husband. Until the last gasp, I am yours."

Salem's fingers lightly seized his sack and then squeezed them, as Pyrrha yelped at something happening that Jaune could not see.

"You will have children, dears… Even if I must oversee your lovemaking."

There was no question that Salem might join in as well, as the woman appeared again, Pyrrha's cheeks flushed a bright red, as his advisor and teacher laid herself against Pyrrha's back.

"Be a good boy and ejaculate inside her a few more times, Jaune dearest… She isn't pregnant yet."

He thrust up, feeling Pyrrha buck with a needy moan from her lips, as Jaune felt the tremors shoot through Pyrrha's lower body, as she seemed to collapse on top of him, her buttocks quivering a little, her hair covering her facial features, emerald eyes peering up at him, as she giggled.

"I love you so much, my liege…"

That was one thing to be happy about, Jaune knew. Pyrrha was loyal to him, as he thrust up, Salem's fingers tapping against his balls, his cock swelling a little at the touch from his lover. Salem was with him the whole time, as he saw Pyrrha bounce up and down with slow motions.

Sliding his shaft into her hot depths was something that he could only imagine before, Pyrrha's body leaning against him, as Salem's fingers continued to please his testicles with gentle touches, trying to coax out an orgasm from hyim again, Pyrrha's slow motions of rocking back and forth to push his shaft into her making him feel the arousal that came with the motions, as Pyrrha continued to push herself down on his member, bringing with her that brush of pleasure that continued to spark joy inside him, feeling how close he got to the pleasurable explosion that would follow being given the orgasm.

His shaft slid into her, as Salem's lips pressed briefly against his shaft, and he felt a warm sensation wrap around them, losing it, the hot seed gushing into Pyrrha's depths, ropes of seed shooting to fill that womb, gushing like a geyser made out of impregnating manslime, Pyrrha's head cast back as she felt him ejaculate, laying atop him, her green eyes peering at him.

"You are the one my heart feels for."

The oath of love, traditional and a little stoically voiced usually upon the day of a wedding, it was still uttered by Pyrrha, as they lazily laid there on the bed, Salem getting up.

"I will ensure you will not be disturbed, students."

Salem, always concerned for the two of them, a woman who didn't stop to contemplate the words but just buried him with work if he complained about having nothing to do, or when she thought he required a little bit more work.

'She cares in her own way… I'd better find a way to be rid of the man who torments her.'

It was time to ask his sisters for the stories of mother's tales.

She stood there upon the dais leading to the throne, the child wandering up to his father's throne, Jaune having grown into power again, the child looking at her with the expression that was hard to describe with the experience that she had. It was the slight wonder of a child, as the empress beckoned for her child to come, another already in the making. It had been a blessing, Salem knew, but the thought of being with her own child was something that she could not shake.

It would not be the way of her life, not anymore. Mortality had left her behind, as she could see the Emperor upon his throne, the supplicants coming with sweet little murmurs and promises of gold for the favour of the emperor. Already, things were slowly moving into place for her vision of the Arcadian empire, even though Jaune's life would stretch on for mayhaps two centuries, the aging slower due to his semblance.

"Dismissed."

There was a sweet little murmur from the child, as it tugged on her dress, the specifically fitted garment falling loosely, as was the style.

"Yes, my dear?"

Ostereos was a sweet child, as she taught him of the importance of life's sciences, speaking of the art of war and the abilities of those who would serve under him when he would become emperor.

He would be the perfect child, as his dark red hair fell loosely, bound only with a golden cord to tie it together, the sweet smell of the oils invading her nostrils.

"Can you read me a story?"

The sweetness of the child was something that she could not hide from, as she felt the urge to do it right here, knowing the joy of educating a child again, as the Empress was pulled up by her spouse, the Emperor smiling at her.

"Of course, child."

It was adorable to see the child bounce a little, going to its mother and hugging her, a brief smile on Empress Pyrrha of Arcadia's face, as the Emperor approached her, looking at her. Salem lowered her head, as an advisor would do to her Emperor, the role that she had taken upon reaching the resolution that she would guard the man who had loved her above all other mortal lovers.

It was a moment between the two of them, as his hand caressed her cheek and he looked at her face, eyes peering into her own, a smile caressing his lips. It was something that made him look like some conqueror, some giant of a man who only had eyes for her. It was the sweet culmination of effort to rear him into an emperor.

"You will read to my son, my cherished mentor. He wishes a story."

The question was within his words, as Salem could see the 'and join us later' was implied. She knew plenty of stories, and one of her original inventions about a girl in a tower would be the one she would share today, as the child was busy with its exercises, selected solely for the difficulty that a child would have little trouble with them.

She sat down upon the bed with the child, feeling how the tranquillity slipped over her. It was a sweet kind of happiness that continued to be within her, as she reminded herself of the husband that she had once loved, as well as the man who now sat upon his throne.

"Let me tell you a story. It is about a princess, much like your aunts, my child."

The young prince sat in her lap, dressed for bed. She was not dressed for bed yet, yet she knew that she would be sating her Emperor's needs, since Pyrrha was too stuffed full of children to be the one who would be able to take his virility. It was a mentor's burden.

"A big, very big tower, stood upon a plain. Have you ever thought of a big plain like that?"

The child shook its head, as she continued, running a hand through its hair.

"Within the tower was a princess, locked away. Her body was to be safe from enemy kings and princess, but her father was a tyrant who did not think about what this would do to the princess. Do you want to know her name, little one?"

The child made a happy sound, as Salem kissed its cheek.

"Salem, that was her name. Salem, gem of the stars, the brightest girl in the entire kingdom. Locked away, until a man came to save her. He had to brave many trials, many problems to solve before he could bring himself to the chamber of the princess. She wanted to be saved, and she loved him, for a very long time."

There was a soft mournful tone to her voice, as she remembered those days, before the truth had come to light of her husband's duplicity. It was the sweet moments that she yearned for, as she continued.

"And they lived for a very long and happy life, just like your mother and father."

The child leaned against her.

"The tale of Ozma and Salem, I hope they're very happy."

Salem tucked the child in, sighing softly.

"It is just a fairytale, after all."

She left the young prince's bedroom, preparing herself for the encounter between herself and the emperor and his wife in the bedroom.

'The tale of Ozma and Salem…'

She froze up. She had never mentioned her husband's name. There wa sno reason why a child would know of the name, as the tale had not been spread, nor had there been anyone else telling it. The only reason could be that…

'He is the next host.'

Her husband was taking the sweet child that she had seen born and grow and turned it into another body for him to inhabit, to have his persistence of immortality. It would be as simple as fathering a child with a woman, before he could leap into another fresh body, through whatever gods-granted immortality he had been given to harry her once more.

It was the crumbling of the world once more, as she stepped to the bedchambers of the Emperor and his wife, Jaune looking at her with a smile, as the leaden weight of her burden pressed her down, her expression darkening a little at the sight of that smile on his face.

"Jaune, we must talk."

He beckoned her to sit down and she sat down.

"What is wrong?"

He was so in tune with her that it hurt to announce to him that his firstborn son was the host of the leech that was her former husband, the feeling burning inside her chest as she began to speak, halting at the sight of Pyrrha.

The pregnant Empress might not take the news well, or if Ozma knew, he would hurt the child within the womb or something. A mother was a fragile existence, she knew that well herself.

"Can we be alone, Jaune?"

The red-haired empress got up and kissed her husband, the two reminding her of the happy days that she had felt as well with her husband, now only wrapped in the torment and agony of what has now become the pain that came with being alone.

"What is wrong, beloved teacher?"

The title that he had granted her, something sweet to the ears, knowing that he meant it literally. Tears came from her eyes, as he held her, his head resting against her shoulder. She wished to say more, but her tongue was silent and her mouth could not move. It was the sweet death of her own dreams, as she took a breath and felt the tears come.

"My… my husband."

Ozma.

Jaune made a concerned sound, like the fool he was. He knew that it was to be war again, as he looked at her.

"He has invaded your son, Jaune."

Jaune's expression darkened, looking at her and then nodding.

"I will kill him myself."

She could see that love in his eyes for her, the love which never made sense to her, that caring young man who had been spared by her magic earlier in his life. He would kill his child for her wellbeing, for her safety.

'It is like the sands stop, just for this momentary bliss.'

She kissed his lips softly, as he looked at her.

"Or perhaps… Perhaps we should deal with him in another way."

There was decisiveness in his words, a masculinity that she'd not seen from him for a while, or perhaps it had always been there, as he looked into her eyes.

What do you suggest?'

There was a question in her mind about the how and the 'why', but there were other, more pressing questions, as he got up, wrapping his arms around her.

"Trust me. He will be dealt with. My mother has told us all many tales."

There was a hint of wryness in his voice, as she saw him leave, and she felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that her husband was in the body of his child.

Three days later, they were on their horses, travelling with an escort of several warriors, Pyrrha left behind, as Jaune had told her that they were giving his son some exercise, to prepare him for war. Salem rode with Jaune, as the prince showed more signs of what was to infect his mind like a parasite, the small cunning little glances, before the child asserted itself again.

"It should be… about here, yes. Come, let's get through the crevasse. A thunder-struck tree guards the way, as a crevasse pulls the traveler in."

They moved through a tight space, as Jaune guided the way, their guards left behind. Jaune pulled himself out of the crevasse first, a spectacular sight visible. A massive tree, one that she recognized. The sky was different, through the ages, as the weathered wood still showed the pockmarks of those millennium-old scars, when humanity had still held magic within their hands.

"It's beautiful… The Domain of Light."

The emperor of her heart looked at his firstborn child, possessed with the spirit of her former husband, walking over to a floating staff, which she hadn't even noticed before. As the Emperor's hands grabbed the staff, his eyes lit up for a moment, as Salem saw the prince go to the edge of the waters.

The waters of life, said to cure any ails and any kind of sickness, to bestow one with the vitality of the world and near-immortality, were gathered around them, Salem feeling a tremor of fear go through her as the child knelt at the water's edge. It was an immortal, or nearly immortal, gift to this world, and here her husband was close to attaining it.

"Immortality, it'll be mine, it'll be-"

A block of clear crystal wrapped around the shell that was used by her husband, as Jaune approached, more things slowly created.

"Ozma? You should be careful what you ask for… You may just get it."

There was a stiffening of the crystal, as some of the water was raised from the pools around the tree, slipping into the clear crystal, before Jaune watched the son that he had brought onto the world, his expression grave.

"Ambrosius… Please shoot him into the aether. May be travel as far as he can, to live forever in loneliness, as the woman I love lives her life in loneliness. I sentence you to forever live and never to move, Ozma. She deserved better."

Salem watched as the crystal with the body of her husband was suddenly shot into the air, her eyes following it as only a twinkle remained, a massive blue humanoid appearing.

"It will not ensure that he is gone forever, you know? I only build things exactly as you want them to, little Emperor. The moment someone else makes me create something, all other things fade."

Her eyes looked at the young man who had granted her freedom from worries. It was a shame that he was mortal, a grievous shame. He would be fit for a queen such as her, no matter his life.

"For her, any sacrifice and reprieve is good enough. Very well then… Time to make sure that nobody else touches you."

Before she could stop him, he leapt into the waters, a fierce golden glow emerging from the waters as they reacted to the presence of something foreign, Salem's breath halting in her throat.

'You're not supposed to do that.'

The laws in her own time had said that the domain of the gods was not to be violated, and he had leapt into the domain without even as much as a second glance, the waters growing still.

"Jaune?!"

She called out, her voice holding panic, as she looke at the waters, before she saw his head appear from the waters, the water dripping off him as he got back to shore, standing there, looking at her with a look, a smile on his face.

"I did it, Salem. I freed you."

The grains of sand that continued to fall were like a slow and inexorable pace towards the hourglass turning once more, as he had saved her indeed. She would fashion a grand monument for him for doing such a thing, even with her own life as eternal as the ground below him.

"You have. You… you disposed of that staff."

Whatever it had been, it had felt like the God of Light, the feeling burning anger and rage inside her chest, as he bent low, scooping some water into his cupped hands, before he raised his hands to the sky, a traditional offering for the gods, a sacrifice that could be done with the blood of oxen or goats, letting the water plummet down to the pool once more.

That which was sacrosanct should not be violated by the mortal and the fading, she knew, everyone knew. A sip of the water could convey immortality, and he was aware that to suffer that would be a far greater curse.

She remembered gagging on the waters, filling her lungs, pulling herself up from the waters and being forever changed. Be it through divine will or something more, she had become immortal.

"I love you."

The words were familiar, as she turned to gaze at the tree that grew, her expression lightening a little, knowing that he meant those words from the heart, aware that she was the woman he loved.

'He is too gentle… I will miss him.'

A horrible gagging sound came from behind her, as she turned to see him on his knees, head near the water. She gasped, waling closer, before she broke out in a run, heedless of her shoes or attire. He drank from the pool, he swallowed that which was not to be consumed by anyone mortal, as he rolled onto his back, his body twitching.

"You fool! You cannot drink that which is of creation's purest essence! It will make you stricken with a curse!"

The boy was pale, the man no longer there but a simple foolish child, as he convulsed, as his mouth opened and golden liquid oozed out. He tried to speak and she tried to force it out, to prevent him from drinking too much to kill him or curse him.

"F-for you. Not… lonely."

Her hands felt limp, as she looked at him growing still, the twitching slowly ceasing, as she stared at him as he disappeared below the waters, her heart freezing as she heard those words bounce around.

He had drunk the water of life to remain with her, to try immortality for himself, to never let her be lonely. Her heart clenched, as she looked at his face, below the surface. A small moment in solitude, before he rose, gasping for air. He looked wild and untamed, as he pulled himself out of the water.

"I'll grow old with you. Even if it takes a thousand times a thousand years, I will be with you."

The sweet words made her heart sing, as her tears dripped into the pool, turning into smoke.

"You silly boy… You don't know what you've done, you silly, silly boy."

He looked adorable as he did so, his eyes meeting hers with that stern stare, as the sands stopped for him, a smile on his lips.

"I guess we're stuck together for a long while, Salem."

She pouted.

"Don't joke about that, Jaune."

He offered her his arm, and they went towards the crevasse once more, Jaune taking the lead, leaving her to glance back at the tree, which looked a little more lustrous now, as he pulled her along to the path that led to the way out of here.

"But I will say that it feels like I have gained a measure of hope."

He was a fool of a man, who had shattered his own hourglass, the sands scattered now, never quite fading from the world, but his smile made it worth it.

"Don't let Pyrrha hear that. She'd get jealous."

Salem pouted once more.

"Such is her fate, husband. Such is the fate of a mere common serf."

His expression turned quizzical.

"We will forge an empire that will dominate the world, Jaune. A mere 'Arcadia' will not suffice for the husband I have. One wouldn't want to look like some mere plebeian merchant, after all."

She had standards for her domain! There would be a need for greater works of architecture!

The sands might have ceased to fall, yet she was still a princess!

Or perhaps a Queen now, since nobody had really been left to object.

Empress? Certainly.

Anyone who dared to disagree would be fed to the Grimm.

'I think we will need to install me as Empress… It will be quite a while before a military campaign can be conducted, but an emperor of the world will be quite suitable for my marriage partner.'

Pyrrha would have to make do with a cot or something at the foot of the bed. People who were born as queen and an emperor were more important, after all.

She had manners!

Perhaps it might not be a wrong thing to advance things in the tent a little tonight, though.

Her previous husband had been ejected from the surface of Remnant, so now she would have to be with her new husband… Not an unworthy task, she surmised.

He was cute, in the common tongue.

Let it not be said that she was ungrateful.

'Perhaps that trick with the tongue that the redhead is so good at, I can attempt?'

He deserved something extra for being such a good man.

'After we bring the news of the crown prince having been savaged by a Grimm within the crevasse, slain by our combined might, yet not before the prince fell within a chasm and was lost to us. It would be bad to let rumours rise…'

The work of a royal was never done.