The Downfall of Man

by J J Marshall

  In fact, perhaps I will impregnate the lady tonight and get the deed done with. Closing his eyes, he focused only on thoughts of Belle and the things he would do with her later, before he spoke.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” the Skeletal Man croaked, clearly expecting the young king to put up more of a fight. Irisi let out an exasperated sigh and nodded.

  “I agree. Send your daughter to my chamber this evening and we will begin wedding preparations.” His voice was strong, calm and steady as he delivered his words. Words he did not believe himself. The Council slowly nodded, and Mercurial’s gavel was brought down once more, cracking the room into silence.

  Irisi turned towards the door, seeing Belle standing there waiting for him as tears trickled down her gentle face. His heart thudded harder in his chest. She was beautiful with her blonde hair pinned to her head and her amber eyes gazing at him, but she was hurt. He would bed her tonight after his meeting with Kyrina. One last time, Belle, he vowed. One last time before we can be…no more. “Meet me in my chamber later so that we can finish what we started,” he whispered to the pretty Merxy girl, as he shook her hand, slipping her the tiniest piece of parchment. He did not know what his future would hold, but Belle deserved the world, even if he couldn’t be the one to give it to her. A silent tear pricked at his eyes, spilling down onto his cheek as he silently trodden towards his chamber to await his arranged fiancé. This was his fate now. He would be destined to marry a girl he did not love, bear a family with her, and raise bastards he did not want, all for the sake of a throne he did not desire.

  I owe you nothing, Father. My debt is now repaid.

  *

  Later that evening, Irisi stood before the large window in his study, overlooking the land he loved so much, the one he’d fought so long for. The room was illuminated by the faint glow of candlelight as it danced its shadows across the walls, exposing Irisi’s collection of books strewn about the room. He was an educated king, but the books he read gave him ideas as to how he would execute the human race and his sworn enemy, the Renegades.

  Fuck the defiant! His anger sparked as he shoved the books from his desk in one fell sweep. He pushed from his chair and walked over to pour himself a drink of brandy-colored liquid. He brought it to his lips, relishing in the sting as he downed the concoction. Anger sparked again within him as he whipped the glass at the ground, watching it shard into thousands of pieces. They will die, all of them. Fucking traitors.

  A knock on the door startled him, causing him to jump slightly as he turned to answer his guest. He stopped in his tracks, realizing what a mess his maiden would be walking into and shrugged. He was a king now, he did not care what anyone else thought. And if it was Belle, well, her clothes would soon join the books and glass on his floor. He smiled as he pictured blood running down her milky wrists. His fingers clasped the cold metal of the handle as he smiled. He would take out his pain on her, just like he was taught, just like Gareth did to him. Twisting the cold metal handle, he opened the heavy wooden door.

  Irisi’s cock twitched as he laid eyes on Mercurial’s daughter. Her long dark curls cascaded down her back like that of a waterfall as she wore a crown of flowers on her head. Cute, Irisi thought. I will break her innocence and give her a crown fit for a queen. He studied her curves, the way her white dress clung to them in all the right places, her bright brown eyes rimmed in crimson, and her light pink lips, pump and succulent. His cock perked again. Yes, she would do just nicely.

  “King Vanderwall, you called upon me?” her musical voice rang as she curtsied, bowing her head low. Irisi’s heart accelerated, beating loudly in his ears. Although it was the first time he had ever met her, he knew he had a fighting chance at saving his kingdom and his throne. He could easily fuck this woman and bear a child with her. Hell, he may even enjoy himself.

  “Yes, come in, my dear,” he said as he placed his hand on the small of Kyrina’s back, following her into his chamber.

  ******

  Kyrina

  “Remember to smile and be polite, Kyrina,” Rin Arnel stated matter-of-factly as her fingers busily worked little white flowers into her daughter’s dark luscious curls. “This is important. You need to behave. Understand? He is a king, he will treat you well.” Kyrina opened her mouth to speak, choking back her words as he mother looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror before them. She shut her mouth in silent protest as her mother continued. “You just have to listen, just this once. He is a king, Kyrina. He is the future of this nation. That means you are the future of this nation. You have the ability to shape the coming generations of the Midland. Keep a straight mind, eyes on the goal and, most importantly, act accordingly.” The purposeful intensity of her mother’s last words to leave her pleading lips were haunting as she spoke them.

  “I had only one goal in my mind before your husband so carelessly sold me away,” Kyrina spat, anger flushing a bright red into her pale cheeks , “and it was not to become the Midland Queen.” Her mother’s jaw set as she silently seethed behind her daughter. Kyrina winced as her mother pulled her locks a bit harder.

  “Watch your tongue,” she hissed. “You will address your father with respect, you will address me with respect. You will act like a Lady. You will act like a Queen, or you will waste away as a fool.”

  “And you should watch your tongue. I’m the future of this nation. I’m the future queen. So, if you think you can talk to me as such, then you are sorely wrong.”

  “You may be the future, but you have no crown. Not yet, at least.” Rage boiled within Kyrina as she squared her shoulders and remained silent, biting back the retorts that played on her lips. Fuck you, she thought as she stared ahead into the mirror.

  Age was unkind to her mother, gripping at her face as if to pull her closer to death. Her eyes now showed the narrow crevices of crow’s feet etching their way like small canals from her eyelids. Her skin was growing leathery, clinging to her bones, becoming yellow, almost jaundiced. Becoming Skeletal. Briefly, Kyrina wondered if she would become unsightly but quickly blinked her curiosity away. She had other things to worry about other than her fleeting beauty. That she would come back to.

  Bringing her thoughts back to the present, she pushed the remaining flowers into position onto her head. Her hands returned back to her sides, balling tightly as her finger nails pierced the milky flesh of her pals. Hot liquid seeped beneath her fingers, soaking her nails. She glanced down and smirked. Red.

  Good, she thought. At least when the king gets to see me, I will be flawed. I will still be me. Kyrina rose from her chair as she focused on steadying her own breathing, her eyes cast towards the floor. Rage continued to swell within her, rushing to the top like a geyser ready to burst, and why not? Sold to the highest bidder like she was a swine. Sold for her own father’s power. His liking. The Council’s liking. Was she not a lady? Was she not a royal? Why did she have no choice in this?

  Her father, Mercurial, knew she wanted nothing more than to raise her daughter Nina, with the love of her life, Lord Arturo Zamoria, in the Ethrel Mountains. She had told him once. Told him her dreams of living her days away in quiet, away from the dramas of court. Her father however, did not take Kyrina’s wishes lightly. She remembered it like it was yesterday. How his yellowed face took on a red hue as she threatened to disown Kyrina, cut her off from her family’s land. Caldone was her home.

  She remembered the day Nina was born, how her father refused to hold his only granddaughter. The look of dismay on his face as he turned his back to her. Wedlock or not, Nina Zamoria was still an Arnel kin, she still held Arnel blood in her veins, and blood was power. Kyrina’s eyes pricked, threatening to spill tears she vowed she would not shed, not here, not in front of her mother.

  Traitor.

  Biting at the inside of her lip, she forced the tears away as the familiar copper tang greeted her tongue like an old friend. Blood. She sighed. Today she would be blood stained. The time ticked closer as anxiety began to spike
in the young royal. She was meeting the King Vanderwall soon. Her mother, Rin, had worked several hours on Kyrina, making sure she looked her best, even if she did not care to be Queen of the Midland. Her mother was right. She hated the thought as it crossed her mind, squishing her face in disdain. She was going to be a figure to reckon with. A statue of power. And she needed to look fearless, not stained with tears.

  Knots formed in the base of Kyrina’s stomach as her mind whirled back to the king, more so sex with the king. She cringed thinking of the vile things he would do to her. Would he be gentle or even make her bed him? Surely, she thought. Otherwise I wouldn’t be in this mess. “Bear him a son,” her father had said. Like she had a choice. “Take his seed and plant it. Grow our nation into one of power. One ruled with Arnel blood. The blood of Uriel. Michael’s kin should never have ruled this land. It is time we take it back.” Her family was descended from the archangel Uriel. His blood ran deep into her veins, into the Arnel veins, the blood her daughter now shared.

  Small droplets of beads formed on Kyrina’s brow as her mind whirled out of control, flashing back to her father’s words. She paced, her long white dress billowing behind her as she moved from one end of the dimly lit room to the other, watching as her chamber sconces flickered. She hated the castle. More accurately, she hated Partheon. But this would be her new home. Better get used to it, she told herself. Because you’ll never seen Caldone again.

  “I can’t keep my husband-to-be waiting any longer,” Kyrina said flatly as she grasped the cold handle of the large chamber door. “I hate him for this. I hate father for this,” she hissed. “How you can let him sell me away for power, is beyond my recognition. How he could do this to Nina…” she trailed off, swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat, gently pushing her windpipe. She closed her eyes, taking a deeper breath, trying to remain composed. A Statue of Power, she reminded herself. “You better take care of her. Support Arturo. Father chose this without thinking how it would affect anyone else. You better clean up his mess. Because if anything happens to my daughter while I’m off playing queen, then I’ll fucking kill you both.” Her tone was cold, dripping vehemently. Turning the handle, she left without another word, slamming the door behind her. One last message of my disdain to drive the consequences home. The corner of her lips flickered upwards in what Kyrina could only assume was a smirk as she left her mother alone, picturing her with her mouth agape, rendering her speechless.

  Bitch.

  Quietly, she padded barefoot down the corridors towards the king’s chambers. The floors were icy against her pale flesh as the night air nipped at her bare shoulders. Her wings fluttered silently behind her as Kyrina contemplated flying. She was freezing, and it would be quite a journey across the castle, but this was her time to think. To slowly relive her life with Arturo and Nina as it flashed before her eyes. Soon it would be gone. Forever. And the tears she so desperately held back moments ago, streamed down her cheeks. She pictured Nina, holding her sweet baby girl in her arms, the way she smelled and the warmth of her touch. The tears continued. The way Arturo held her against him, kissing her hair as she cried about royal life to him, consoling her. The way he looked at her, kissed her, all of it just…gone.

  She sniffed back, not trying to hide her sadness, not trying to be a lady as she wiped at her eyes. She looked down at her black stained fingers and shrugged. She did not care if she looked disheveled before the king, not anymore. Not after losing her life. A life he was taking. I will come back to you, she quietly vowed. I will. She choked back her sobs as she came to the corridor, she knew was the king’s. Knights lined the halls wearing heavy silver armor; they stood silently, eerily masking themselves like statues.

  Standing in front of the king’s massive chamber door, Kyrina raised her right hand, ready to knock. She stopped herself for a moment, sucking in a final breath as if to say goodbye to her life. She was terrified of the future and what it held. Can I really do this? Will I be good enough?

  Footsteps echoed behind the door as the faint sound of shuffling could be heard, drowned out by the thumping of Kyrina’s heart. The latch clicked as the door slowly opened before her. He was there. The king. His long sandy locks hung just past his shoulders as his ocean blue eyes stared back at Kyrina. She waited for him to speak. That’s how this worked right? He made the first move? She had never been this close to the king. Never in a one on one situation.

  He was so close she could practically feel his breath. He stood before her, slightly bemused as he ran his hands through his hair. His light linen shirt that was nearly see through, clinging to him in a way that complimented his defined torso. Yum. She could not believe her eyes or her body as her breathing quickened and blood poured into her cheeks.

  FOCUS, she screamed at herself as she stood there salivating over this man. Focu—

  Damn. She could feel herself submit, giving into lust as her primal urges to please took hold. She focused on breathing, slow and steady. She focused on her wings, making sure they did not flap too slow or fast, giving away her thoughts. She needed to make this hard, but who would it be harder for? Kyrina swallowed, looking at the king this time, making eye contact.

  “King Vanderwall, you called upon me?” was all she could muster up to say in that very moment. His lips threatened a grin as he stood staring into her eyes.

  “Yes, come in, my dear,” he said in a hushed tone. Gesturing behind him to the room, he stepped aside allowing Kyrina to make her way into his chambers. He placed his hand on the small of her back as she entered the room; her body shifting uncomfortably. The door latched behind them as darkness consumed them both. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but as they did, small objects came into focus on the floor. She bent down to pick up one of the books when a hand caught her wrist, causing her to jump.

  “Don’t,” the king warned, his voice was gruff and sinister as it bit at Kyrina.

  “I’m sorry, my king,” Kyrina croaked out. His grip loosened as she stood upright and pulled her in towards him. He shrouded her in his large arms before Kyrina had time to protest and nestled her close to his chest. His fingers ran loosely through her untamed locks in an attempt to calm her.

  “You are frightened,” he said blankly. “It’s fine, I don’t wish to marry you either. However, unfortunate circumstances bid us no other option. We must lie together and bear a son or I will lose everything my father and his father and his father fought so long and hard to build. I will be damned if that happens!”

  Kyrina nodded quietly. She was shocked he was so open about this distasteful union and even more surprised he would vocalize it to her. He is king, though.

  “Then kiss me and get it over with,” she hissed. The king froze and pulled away from her looking off into the shadows.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m not a monster. We do this only when you’re ready,” he said. Kyrina stood there scrutinizing him, wondering what her next move would be. She took a deep breath and gradually exhaled before speaking her next words.

  “Just kiss me,” she repeated.

  *

  Two years had come and gone since Kyrina’s night with the king, and still she laid in the same chambers, now his wife. She shifted uncomfortably, scrunching her face at the thought of those words, at the distaste they brought to her mouth. She was with child, again, due any day now.

  Letting out the smallest yawn, Kyrina pushed from her back, sitting upright. Irisi had told her to move around.

  Bear him a son, her mother’s words rang through her mind. She rolled her eyes. As if I’d had a choice. Forced to marry, forced to bear the man-child, not one, but two sons. Her mind drifted to her firstborn, Karsten, how he’d looked so much like her, with dark brown curls and red rimmed eyes. Arnel eyes. Eyes of her ancestors. Her eyes drifted to the doorway, thinking of her sleeping son in the next chamber over.

  Rising from the bed, Kyrina wobbled as she stood. Karsten almost always had a wet nurse with him, and yet,
Kyrina felt the urge to check on him. Taking a step forward, she nearly doubled over in pain, biting into her lip to silence her screams. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she clutched at her stomach. Pressure penetrated her pelvis as water began to trickle down her leg.

  He was coming.

  “Irisi!” she called out but received no answer. Silence greeted her like an old friend. Lowering herself to the floor, Kyrina clutched at her stomach. Someone would find her. They had to. She was the queen.

  She bit harder into her lip, breaking the skin as her contractions came, and failing, she cried out.

  Hours had passed and still she was alone, pregnant, without a soul to comfort her. Sweat and tears mixed in a salty mess on her face as she cried.

  He has to be a good boy. Orian, you have to save the world, she thought before gripping the rug beneath her, she pushed.

  ******

  Eighteen years later…

  One

  Orian

  Light danced across the dark room, as flames flickered from the sconces hanging on the gray stone walls. The room took on a gentle glow, casting shadows this way and that as Orian stood looking out the window that spanned the length of his chamber wall. The Midland laid just below, bathed in the night’s impending darkness.

  He sighed as he looked at his kingdom, relishing the bright lights. Everything about his kingdom was like a dream, from the sand to the clothing his people wore. But one that would come to an end if he chose wrong. Tomorrow was Selection Day. A day where he would either pledge his allegiance to the Midland army, known as the Consortium, or be cast away. The choice was hard. On one hand he would be king someday, after his brother passed, he would rule the Midland, live a life of luxury and bask in women, sentencing his human charge to death, or he would be cast away to die. Shunned by his own people, by his family, but She would live. Hanna.