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835 Words
The knight commander reported, "We've searched every corner of the realm, including the Darkness and the Wild."
I exclaimed through clenched teeth, "Did you try the human realm?" Frustration was evident in my voice.
The commander's eyes closed in exasperation, as if forgetting that the witch isn't part of the Fae realm!
I impatiently commanded, "What are you waiting for? Go!" Then I sank onto the throne, clad in regal armor that gleamed under torchlight.
The Fae's incompetence worsened my morning—finding the witch should have taken seconds, allowing me to break the curse and reclaim my freedom. Despite everything, I still felt my power and majesty, affirming my status as a true King.
My sister's whisper behind me was tentative, "Brother, perhaps you shouldn’t act cruelly toward the witch; ask for redemption, and she might break the curse."
I snapped, "I don't bow to anyone!" My aura flared as I clenched the armrests of the throne.
She attempted to flatter me, her voice trembling, "Resonate, my kin, my other side, my King," but fury clouded my judgment, and I was prepared to crush her skull if I caught her betraying me.
Before departing, I harshly ordered, "Go! Bring someone to distract me!"
I reflected on my ancestral palace—a grand structure with high vaulted ceilings and ornate tapestries, the place where my father was slain by the Darkness and my mother taken into the Wild. The lingering stench of blood and decay haunted my memories, shaping my resolve today.
I swore to show neither mercy nor kindness—unlike my parents—I refused to be killed or lose my throne. I would rather set the realm ablaze or slaughter all the Fae, even my own sister, than suffer humiliation.
I strode to the ivory desk, reaching for a goblet of bitter, intoxicating elixir brewed with rare herbs, then sprawled on the plush armchair, swallowing the sharp drink to dull the fiery rage burning within me.
As I began to relax, a sharp knock snapped me back to the present. I squinted, trying to recognize who disturbed my solitude.
"My King, I am here to serve you," the small doe whispered softly. She carried the scent of fresh spring mornings, a delicate aroma with a hint of fear, subtle yet persistent—an aroma that belonged naturally in my realm.
I motioned for her to sit on my bed. Without waiting for her to settle, I approached her swiftly, yanking the coarse silk robe off her slender frame. A gasp escaped her lips when she saw my eyes, and I slammed her onto her elbows and knees.
"I didn't mean to offend you, my King," she murmured, trembling.
"Shut up!" I barked, ripping off my armour and pants and claiming her fiercely. This was all I needed—a release for my mounting fury.
I used her repeatedly until she collapsed unconscious, her body trembling and drained. But I was far from sated.
Nervously, I shouted at the door, "Another!"
The days—or perhaps months—passed in this relentless cycle: me drinking and screwing myself into oblivion while my sister and spies hunted relentlessly for the witch. Rumors whispered through the stone corridors about my waning powers, my increasingly brutal and vile temper, and my failing eyesight that worsened with each passing day.
I let them murmur, let them diminish, let them do whatever they wanted to have a pretext to drink some more, to unleash my rage in meaningless s*x.
A thousand-year mark was subtle; my hair started to change color. From a sunny white ray to the darkest black night, like my name, dark and cold.
I knew that, heard in the minds of the faes, warming my bed, from the commander and his aid, from my sister when she sat by my side with every meal.
My sister, the only one who had my back, who never stopped trying to find the witch or someone from her bloodline, the only one who cared.
I was balls-deep into some male fae when my commander entered the lounge room. In recent decades, I didn't stay in my bedroom, torn apart by one of my wrathful episodes, so any excuse of a fae who stepped into my sight was my f**k-toy for the day.
"My King, we found some traces of the bloodline in the human realm. My spies are searching for the one with emerald eyes as we speak," he said.
I didn't stop, didn't let the male go, didn't feel relieved. Grunting, I pushed harder in and out of that tight asshole, smacking each time my balls into his. He was pleading to stop, to let him go. I didn't care and pushed harder and faster until I emptied myself with a roar. A coppery and salty stench reeked from the body below me, pathetic weekling.
"Great news. When you find her, come for me," I ordered the commander.
"As you wish, my King!" he said and departed.
- Writer
