Prologue
“Fuck, you’re always so tight.”
The sound of skin slapping filled a dark room like the echo of clapping; the room, which vertical shaped ceiling gave it the form of a triangle, was lit by the moon coming through the glass of a big round window that showed a seemingly endless dark forest. Despite the slanted ceiling, the room was big and spacious. In the light of the moon it was clear that it was made of all wood except for the big stone fireplace against one of the walls across from the massive bed. The imposing bed stood in the center of the room, the dark wood contrasting with the lighter wood of the walls like a black dot in a white cloth. The bed was magnificent with handcrafted patterns that almost seemed to tell a story. It was so low to the floor it almost seemed to be floating. The ornate columns, which were connected at the top by a crown, held the curtains that were drawn, hiding those who lay in it.
Suddenly, the groans of a man filled the room as the slapping of skin grew more frantic. The sounds from the man were not angry, it simply sounded like a laborer doing a hard day’s work. The only sign of the presence of another person in the room was the slight moans that did not ask for more or exclaimed its pleasure but spoke of annoyance and slight pain, the sounds one would make when they did not want to do something but knew they had to. Inside the curtains, a man’s broad back barely had a shine of sweat, his tone ass clenched and unclenched as hips thrusted into the waiting heat beneath him. At his side, the man held flawless, slim and pale legs that were barely exposed as the owner still remained fully clothed.
Besides the slight moans, the woman beneath the man did nothing; it was only the labor breathing and her chest moving by it that showed she was not asleep or dead. No matter what the man did to her, she remained frozen like a doll; beautiful, graceful and poise but still a lifeless doll, just as she was taught to be.
“I’m close,” the man grunted, to him it was clear that he was the only one gaining pleasure from their act. His voice was strong and deep almost like the raspy growling of a wolf; it was the voice that even if they said the sweetest, most loving words, it would still sound hard, like a fierce battle cry or filthy, like the words only spoken in bed.
“Very well,” the woman finally spoke; there was almost a sigh of relief in her voice. Her voice was the complete contrast to her partner; it was soft yet high, like the sounds of a bird chirpy in a warm spring day. The voice carried a tone of superiority to it that spoke of a general annoyance for everyone and everything. “Let God finally bless us with a son.”
At those words, the man grunted, this time in annoyance as he came within the woman but immediately pulled out and turned away from her. “Why must you do this every time?” It was clear that he was not happy, from his locked jaw and hard glare.
“What, can I not wish for a son?” the woman shrugged seemingly unbothered by the man’s displeasure. Instead, she focused on fixing her appearance and clothes as if nothing happened, ‘the transaction was done,’ it was what her every muscle screamed.
“You know that it not it. You know of our religion…” the man spoke walking over to wrap a robe around him, covering his sculptured body.
“Oh, this again,” the woman cut him off, waving her hands in dismissal.
“Yes, this again! I allowed you to keep your religion but you must start respecting ours,” the man ordered yet the woman seemed uninterested in following this order. He grabbed her by the arms, his grip hard and strong enough to bruise, “I mean it, the same way we do not try to covert you, stop trying to covert my people.”
“Why should they be robbed of the true religion,” the woman declared with a strong defiance and arrogance in her tone. It all deflated as the man slammed his fist against one of the columns of the bed causing a loud bang that made her jump.
“Watch it, my patience wears thin,” the man loomed over her, her head just barely reaching his chin yet she seemed almost smaller before his shadow. “I have been very tolerant with you but do not make me take a page out of your people’s book and begin to discipline you as your father did your mother,” these words made the woman flinched, her armor shaking under the power of that threat. “You want your traditions and religion so bad, I can easily start by copying the worse ones,” he leaned in until their foreheads almost touched. “You chose,” with that he pulled back and his expression of anger eased.
“Now, let me take care of your pleasure,” his voice was softer almost as if he had not just threatened the woman before him.
“I told you, that is not necessary. Women aren’t meant to get pleasure from copulating, for us it is just about procreation.” The woman slapped his hand away before turning and storming out of the room with her head held high.
Left alone, the man sighed as if exasperated from dealing with a stubborn and bratty child. Marrying a woman from another kingdom and religion to form an alliance had, at first, seemed like a good decision but now he was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake.
“Sexusani, what am I to do with such a chieftess?” No one answered, yet as the man lay in bed and closed his eyes, the glint of a silver shadow seemed to flash before the window like a silhouette made by the light of the moon.
“It is time to mend that mistake,” a voice whispered before it was carried outside by the wind along with the shadow.
