A Chance of Fate

Chapter 3

His fist came down on her again and again. There was no time to catch her breath, no time to think of escape, only the pain of each excruciating blow upon her body registered in her brain. The King's fury, with his daughter Sarah, was beyond anything she'd experienced before. Over the past ten years, his beatings had occurred frequently and without mercy, but this time was different. All the King's rage was rained down upon Sarah's slender body, and her frame shook with torment as her mind slowly began to go numb and dark. 

"You will never be enough!", the king roared between blows. "Never," hit, "Never," hit, "Ever!", and again his fist slammed into her, this time striking her face. Stars blossomed before Sarah's eyes. She was going to be beaten to death. The king was too far into his rage to be stopped this time, she thought. She weaved in and out of consciousness, hoping for her death to come quickly and end her misery and pain, but instead she heard shouting.

“Sire! Sire!”, Conway grabbed hold of the king’s arm and used his weight to stop another blow from falling on the broken and bleeding princess. “Please, stop, Sire, or the King of Shadows will declare war upon us!”

The King of Emerald Forests swung around to face his general and captain of his guards, “Do you think I fear war?!”. Spittle flew from the king’s mouth and his eyes bulged from their sockets. “Let him come! I would have declared war myself, upon that bastard king, years ago if not for the damned arrangement between him and this w***e!” With that his attention turned, once again, to the near-lifeless body on the floor. His eyes were dark with rage, his teeth clenched in fury. His fingerers were curled into claws, ready to s***h his daughter to pieces with sheer delight.

Ten years! Ten years, she’d been able to avoid his lust. Ten years, his manhood shrank and shriveled at the sight of her. It was as if he were cursed. Ever since that first night, when she kneed him to make her escape, his arousal deflated whenever he reached for her. It infuriated him! His lust and arousal never faltered! He took any woman he wanted to his bed, even more than one on occasion, and he could proudly f**k his prey into unconsciousness, if he so desired. His three other daughters could never escape him, and he became aroused at the very thought of their exposed breasts and swollen lips. But not Sarah!

He was less of a man around her, and his loathing dripped like venom with each drop of sweat he shed, thinking about it. He had done whatever he could to regain his manhood, in her presence. He had shrouded her in black and forbade anyone to lift her veil besides himself, so that no person, including her, knew what she looked like. He had silenced her, forbidding her vocalization of any kind. Even now as he beat out her lifeforce, she didn’t dare allow a single moan or whimper to escape her bloody lips. He’d forbidden her an education, so that she could neither read nor write. He had locked her away in the royal dungeon; a single tower accessed by a single, triple-bolted iron door, with no windows and no visitors allowed. He, himself, however, visited her nearly every day. He beat her, screamed at her, whipped her, renamed her “his w***e”, he’d even gone as far as to burn the skin off her legs. A sneering smile flashed across his face as he remembered the stench of her burning flesh and watching her flop like a fish as she silently endured the excruciating torture.

His smile faded into a terrifying glare, however, when he also remembered that not once could he leave a permanent mark upon her exquisite body. She healed incredibly fast and without trace of his vicious episodes. So, not only could he not make her his own by thrusting his manhood deep inside her delicious s*x, but he couldn’t even mark her as his own through mutilation. With each passing day, as her body matured and the sight of her stroked his deepest, most evil desires, he grew increasingly frustrated. As his frustration grew, his beatings and torture became more sinister. He needed to dominate her. He needed to feel confident with his vitality, once more. But when none of his methods to dominate her worked, he lied. He told her that all his doings were that of a loving father. He was only preparing her for the man she was promised to, for The King of the Shadow Kingdom was far worse than he was.

Fortunately, he wasn’t completely lying. The King of Shadows was infamous for his lack of mercy and brutal war strategies. Whatever curse prevented the Emerald King from possessing his youngest daughter, he could only hope that the King of Shadows would find displeasure in her, and kill her.

Madness danced in the king’s eyes, as Conway continued pulling back against his fury. Suddenly, Conway switched tactics. He swiftly knelt before the king, slamming his fist to his heart in a show of allegiance and submission. With his head bowed, but his eyes on Sarah, he prayed, “Please, your Majesty, I beg of you! Hold your anger just a little longer, and do not kill the princess.” The king snarled at him, but Conway quickly continued, “I know that you fear nothing, my Lord, and that your hatred for the Shadow Kingdom rivals only my own, but strategize your plans for war, if there be any.” Conway’s breath caught as the king caught his chin with his roughened hand and slowly lifted Conway’s face towards his. Conway shifted his focus from Sarah to the king, without the king noticing, and boldly held his gaze.

“I’m listening.”, the king growled. His prize would no longer be his to claim in two short days, and if he could not find a way to claim her then he would not rest until he displayed her rotting corpse above the kingdom’s gates. Seeing the threat in his king’s eyes, Conway thought quickly, “You must be aware of the Shadow King’s reputation. Not only in war, but in his personal habits. It will not be long before he loses interest in the princess and most certainly kills her in order to take another lover.” The king’s attention was completely captured as Conway continued, “If you desire war, your armies are ready and willing, but do not be the cause behind it. Allow the Shadow King to bring war and righteous vengeance upon himself.” Conway finished, allowing the silence to stretch on as the king mulled over his words.

“I see the wisdom of your words, Conway.” The king whispered, “But do not allow your love for my daughter to blind you of your purpose here.” The unveiled threat sliced through the air and caught Conway off-guard. His sharp intake of breath was the affirmation the king sought, and his eyes glittered with hot wrath. The king pulled Conway’s face closer to his and whispered with his pungent breath, “Your condemned love for my w***e is all that’s kept her alive these past ten years as you’ve continued to beg for my mercy towards her, but mark my words, she will die. Either by my hand or by the hand of the Shadow King she will die. You will then lead my armies against the Shadow Kingdom, and you not fail to bring back her gutted corpse to adorn my walls. She is mine! Do you hear?! I will make her MINE!”, he bellowed the last word before dropping Conway and stalking from the room, but not before commanding over his shoulder, “Clean this mess up.” Then, he was gone, slamming the iron door behind him.

Conway rushed to Sarah’s side. He swept her raven hair, drenched with blood and sweat, from her face, uncovering her flawless white skin and plump red lips. Her eyes were closed, and her black, feathered lashes cascaded down upon her cheeks. He glanced over his shoulder, to assure their solitude, before cradling her in his arms and allowing a muffled sob to escape him.

“Oh, my princess.”, he quietly confessed, “My Goddess! I swear to you that I have done all within my power to protect you. I swear!”, he cried, “And I make an oath before you and the Universe, that I will follow you to the Shadow Kingdom. I will defy your father. I will not allow you to die!”, he quietly sobbed.

Conway rested his head upon Sarah’s breasts and listened to the steady rhythm of her heart until he felt assured that she was stable enough to move. Then slowly, gently, he carried her bridal style to the small pile of hay she used as her bed. Removing his own coat, he rested her head upon it, and cradled her face in his hands. 

“I swear!” he whispered, as his tears washed the blood from her face.