Broken Princess

by Renard, Loki

  He could not suffer this for eternity. He could not watch her wither and sink into nonexistence. It would be too painful. And he could not watch Vengar, the man who had not deserved mercy, and who had twisted it into yet more viciousness, go unpunished. To pull free of the winding snakes and to birth himself back into the world beyond would be to sentence the entirety of creation. The world was brimming with light, the light of his baby boy, so bright inside her it was causing weakness at the very boundaries of existence. If he returned, it would be a death sentence for all. The light had to remain in the ethereal realms. That was the way of it. She could not come to him. He could not go to her. In that one impulsive, reckless, utterly irresistible act of mating, he had ruined everything. This was not Aya’s fault. This was his wrong to set right. Every moment he remained wrapped in his bonds of pain was another moment she suffered for his mistake.

  Sacrifice. That is what he had tried to teach her. But the sacrifice could not be hers alone. It would also have to be his.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “We’ve found the princess. She has been pulled out of the sewer in the northern provinces, by the smell of her. She will be before you in a matter of minutes, Your Highness.”

  “Very good!” Vengar smiled. Finally, something was going his way. Reclaiming the throne had been one thing, but it lacked satisfaction. Kazriel had destroyed his favorite obsidian throne when he made his blasted entrance, and it had been replaced with one that was frankly far too gold and girly for Vengar’s tastes. The same could be said for the crown. He’d tried it on in secret and found that he looked quite ridiculous with Aya’s tiara perched on his gray head.

  Still, he did his best to look regal as the castle doors open and the princess was dragged in between two mercenaries. At first, he did not believe that it was her. She had been gone just two months, and the pathetic wretch between the men did not look a thing like her.

  “Is this some kind of joke? Do you attempt to deceive me?”

  “This is she, Your Majesty.”

  “Are you she? Girl? Do you claim to be Aya? Daughter of my brother?”

  “The one you murdered?”

  She looked up, and he saw the gaze of hatred and he realized that it was indeed the princess. So much for an escape. She had managed to torture herself far worse than he would have managed to. She made for a pitiful sight, her belly swollen, her hair bedraggled. There was very little of the once beautiful princess left.

  Vengar gagged as he caught the scent of her. It was utterly vile. No bath could ever hope to wash away that stench, and no amount of pampering would make her anything other than a used-up wench, belly filled with bastard—even if it was the bastard of a guardian.

  “Kill her,” he ordered. “Put her out of her misery.”

  “She’s pregnant, sire,” the mercenary holding onto her left side protested.

  “I can see that. Kill her anyway.”

  The mercenaries, whose heart hadn’t really been in it in the first place, balked at the order.

  “Just chop her bloody head off. It’s not that hard!”

  “She’s just a helpless woman.”

  “You’re fired!” Vengar cursed and waved his hand. He’d have the man executed, but there was nobody to do that.

  The mercenaries let Aya go and left the royal chamber. She crawled up to her feet and stood as proudly as she could, looking like a stinking bedraggled cat who’d fallen into a sewer.

  “I’m having some staffing issues,” Vengar sighed. “Your execution will have to be delayed until I can find someone to do it. I do apologize, but frankly, you ruined this city. Consider your wait for execution part of the punishment.”

  “Shall I just wait here?” Aya spoke through cracked lips.

  “You know the way to the dungeon, do you? I’d have a guard take you, but they’re unionizing and won’t work after five in the evening.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Vengar sighed. “It’s almost not worth being an evil king anymore.”

  Aya held her belly in her hands and turned away from him. “I am not going to the dungeon. I am going to my chambers, and I am going to have a bath.”

  Vengar, destroyer of innocence, regicide, patricide, matricide, fratricide, shrugged. It was probably not the worst idea. A mercy for all concerned, really.

  Aya gathered her torn skirts about her and turned before she left.

  “I have been running all this time from you. I was running from a shadow, a mere memory. You have no power. You are nothing.”

  “Careful, Princess. I am still dangerous.”

  “Only to yourself.”

  Vengar reached for his sword, then remembered he had used it to impale his advisor days earlier. Another stay of execution then. Very well. The princess would soon discover that though the city may have weakened under her leadership, the countryside was still loyal. Her weakness had not infected the rural lands, where brigands and bandits were happy to claim a wage from the king for doing his bidding. In a matter of days, he would have a new army and the city would fall fully under his control. Let the princess think she was safe. He would hear her screams soon enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She had given up hope.

  Days of humiliation, starvation, and pain had been the final nail in the coffin of Aya’s joy. Having returned to her chambers, she had drawn her own bath, cleaned her filthy, sore-ridden skin, and washed her greasy matted hair. Now she laid in the bed she had always taken for granted and wanted only a dreamless sleep.

  Since Kazriel left her, she’d wanted to see him in her dreams, but they had been devoid of guardians of any kind. This night was no different, and she was now at peace with that. The guardian had gone because he had no place in the world of men. And Aya was no longer certain she did either.

  With the abandonment of hope came the abandonment of care. She no longer cared what Vengar would do to her. Perhaps she would die. Perhaps her line would end with her, but she could not run again. This is where her final stand would be made, in the same place where her father’s blood and her mother’s blood had been spilled, the same place she had lived for years in fear.

  “No more fear. No more hiding,” she murmured to herself as she rose from the bed and went to the wardrobe. Her chambers had been ransacked, but there were dresses left behind. She chose one of royal gold. It would shine on, even after she was slain. If her blood was to sink into it, it would make a somber remembrance for any who might see it. Aya was dressing for her last day on earth, though it saddened her terribly, and the life inside her kicked with what seemed like fury at the idea of parting the realm without ever having been born, but what could she do?

  Abandoned by the father of her infant yet to be born, hunted by a corrupt king, the princess’ life had always been in the hands of fate. Now she resolved to trust it absolutely.

  * * *

  “Still here?” Vengar smirked as she made her appearance at the breakfast table. “You know I intend to kill you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Uncle Vengar,” Aya sighed, sitting down to take some toast and tea. She was hungry, and if she was to die, she would do so with a full stomach. “I’m well aware.”

  “At least you’ve had a bath.”

  “Indeed.”

  Vengar sat back and steepled his fingers. “About your execution. I think we should do it on the grand steps at the front of the castle. I want people to see.”

  “Very well.”

  “Girl, how dare you sound bored at the prospect of your own execution!” Vengar was thoroughly annoyed, but Aya did not care about that either.

  “You have been threatening to execute me for years. At least this will be the end of the tedium of that threat.”

  “Indeed it shall be! Report to the steps at once and it shall be off with your head, my girl. That will teach you to defy me and take up with some cock-swinging premature ejaculating guardian.”

  “I don’t know that I’ll have much use for the
lesson once I’m dead, but yes,” Aya admitted. “I have made some mistakes in my life. Arguably, not poisoning your breakfast jam was one of them.”

  The king spat out his toast and looked very displeased indeed. “You’re making this very unsatisfying for me.”

  “Good.”

  “To the steps with you! I’ve found a sword. I’ll execute you myself.”

  “Very well,” Aya agreed, picking up a piece of toast for the journey.

  She went to the front of the castle and stood at the head of the great staircase. As Vengar had promised, the citizens had gathered to watch her execution. Fitting, she supposed. She had failed every one of them. They may as well see her last moments.

  “Put the bloody toast down!” Vengar insisted, swinging his sword back and forth. “I need to see some cowering from you. Beg for your life!”

  “Oh, no. Please. Do not kill me,” Aya deadpanned, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair.

  “You can do better than that! Do I need to stab you a little?”

  “I suppose you could try.”

  Giving up on Aya’s cooperation, Vengar went on his tirade all on his own, entirely out of context. Aya could tell it pained him to do so, but things had to be done a certain way, whether she liked it or not.

  “What champion will defend you? These pathetic peasants will sing songs after your death and decorate your grave with flowers, but what good will that do you?” Vengar laughed wickedly. “You are the most foolish girl, to think that good might ever triumph without teeth and bite. Even Kazriel has deserted you, fled this lump of clay and left you as an example to those who are foolish enough to believe.”

  It was true. Aya had no means to defend herself. Nobody would protect her. Oh, well. Ho hum. It would be nice for it to be over, actually. Restful, probably.

  “Your body will be taken to pieces, Princess. Each of the rebellious peasants who refused to serve me until the men with the long knives came to restore order will be treated to a piece of it before they too are slain. Your death will be true spectacle, just like the executions of your parents before you.”

  Now Aya was beginning to lose her temper. The death of her father and mother was still a sore spot. It was impossible to hate Vengar any more than she already did. It was a pity she seemed fated to die by his hand. Aya was but one woman in a world of larger forces, and her unwavering belief in goodness left her vulnerable to anyone who might be willing to take up arms. She had been outmaneuvered and outplayed, and that was all there was to it.

  Vengar had won. He had bided his time. He had let Kazriel spend himself inside her, and he had known what would happen once the guardian left his essence. There was nobody left to come for her. Perhaps she would be reunited in death with the creature who had taught her so much and given her absolution in life.

  Aya threw back her head, spread her arms and waited for the blades to run her through.

  “Oh, you are so damn disappointing,” Vengar complained. “Scream, cry, beg me for forgiveness. Do something, girl!”

  “I’ve seen too many of your victims do that to give you the satisfaction. Make it quick if you like, or slow. I have learned to bear pain quite well, I think you will find.”

  Vengar let out a sigh. “You were always my favorite, Aya. Such a bloody minded little wretch. Do you know why I let you live when you were small?”

  “No.”

  “When I had your mother killed, you were supposed to be the next in line, but as her head fell you rushed toward me and you bit me hard enough to draw blood. I still bear the scar.” Vengar held up his left hand as proof, where a small half circle of indentations proved that he was speaking the truth. “You fought me then, and you earned your right to life. Fight me now, and perhaps you will survive again.”

  “I don’t need to fight you. Your power has waned. Your time has come. The people want peace. You’ll kill me, and they still won’t listen to you. You’re a king of an empty castle.”

  “Foolish girl! People never want peace. Do you know how many wars I have staged merely to keep the peasants occupied? You think I branded girls for my own amusement? No! It gave the others something to talk about. Humans are addicted to fear, Aya. You can play innocent all you like, and you can pretend to be noble, but they will grow tired of your brand of peace and freedom and beg for a tyrant once more. I have never imposed my will on these people. They imposed their will on me.”

  “I wish Kazriel could hear you,” Aya said. “He would enjoy that rationalization. I suppose you had his statue smashed to pieces for the same reason?”

  “Precisely. He no longer needed it.”

  “I don’t think that was up to you.”

  “All things are up to me. That is what being a king is all about.”

  “Being a royal, of any kind, is about taking care of your people. You’ve never taken care of anyone besides yourself. You tended to your every whim at the cost of others’ needs. That is what made you evil, and that is what I would rather die than become.”

  “Then die you shall!”

  Finally, Vengar had enough drama to climax with her death. His sword sang through the air, sharp steel heading directly for the princess’ vulnerable throat.

  But it was not flesh his blade met. It was stone. Vengar’s sword made sparks against the rock-hard flesh of the princess’ neck, the impact driving the blade from his hand and causing it to spin away across the steps.

  “What the blazes!”

  Aya was just as surprised as he.

  “Explain the meaning of this, princess of pebbles! I will still crush you, just as I crushed...”

  His threat was lost as a warrior wearing heavy mail stormed through the crowd, parting them in waves of humanity that surged back and then flowed forward behind him.

  His face was pure beauty, lit with deadly determination, the demon and the god in one combined. His armor reflected the sun in glaring beams of gold and silver as he flashed across the distance between the crowd and the king. His arms were raised high, his body taut as he leaped into the air and came down again, the full force of his physical form across the sharp side of the blade smiting Vengar with one blow. The king’s head rolled from his shoulders and bounced down the stairs one at a time, bumping and rolling until it came to a halt at the feet of the stunned crowd, a look of disdain and surprise upon his face.

  “Kazriel!”

  Aya looked into the eyes of her savior as the crowd heralded him. They had to be mistaken. This knight could not be him. Kazriel was not a man who wore armor. He was a god who strode naked and feared no man. Kazriel did not need a blade. He had the power of all creation to destroy and create at will.

  It did look like him though, a lot. So much so her heart fluttered and flowered with relief and joy.

  “Kazriel?”

  This truly could not be. Aya had not expected to ever see him again. She had thoroughly expected to die and become food for the worms. But it seemed he had come for her. Against all odds, at the very last possible human moment the world had shifted and become magic once more.

  “I’m late. I know.”

  He sheathed his sword, took Aya in his arms, and kissed her thoroughly. It was then that she knew. His kiss contained all the passion and lust of their separation. She could feel his love, and felt hers flowing back, filling her with pure joy. This was not possible, but it was happening.

  “You came for me... after all this time.”

  “I am sorry it took so long. I am sorry for all you have suffered, my sweet princess.”

  It was Kazriel. And yet it was not. He felt somehow... different. Aya looked him over, trying to work out what had changed. Superficially, he seemed the same as ever, impossibly handsome, awesomely powerful. But...

  “Are you shorter?”

  “I believe I am nine feet tall, hardly short.”

  “But you used to be taller...”

  “Yes, well, I was a god then.”

  “And you’re not now?”

  He
drew her closer in his arms. “I could not return once I spent my seed in you. There can be only so much divinity in the world, and with the two of you here, I was forced to withdraw to protect the balance...”

  “But you’re back... how?”

  “I could not stand by and see you die, Aya. There was only one way back, one path to save you. I became mortal.”

  “You mean?”

  “I am man. Just as you are woman. No more powers besides those of the physical world.”

  Aya could not believe what she was hearing, or what she was feeling. This was his body against hers, a body she had never touched before, not in the flesh. She wanted to pull the armor away and see how he looked under it. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go. From misery so complete she no longer cared if she survived, to a joy so complete it seemed as though she could never have been sad at all, Aya was overwhelmed with emotion.

  “You had eternity and all the realms, and you gave that up for one lifetime with me?”

  “One lifetime, lived well, is all anybody needs,” Kazriel smiled, kissing her again so thoroughly she felt the tingle all the way down to her toes. “Let’s begin living it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  One year later...

  “Must we do this publicly?” Aya blushed and smiled as the love of her eternal existence brushed a kiss against her cheek, a loving little gesture that belied the carnal nature of what was to come.

  “It seems only fair, my love,” Kazriel smirked. As a deity, he had been all powerful. As a man, and as a king, he kept all the swagger and bearing of the guardian he had once been—not to mention the ferocity of the demon he had embodied too.

  He was even more attractive as a human than he had been as a god. He was more natural, his body and skin held more heat. His musculature came and went with the passing of the seasons, with the food he consumed, and the hard work he put himself through, his strength earned day after day with the drills of battle and the training of soldiers. Lokheim would never be caught off guard again. At that very moment, no fewer than five hundred soldiers were posted at battlements and beyond, protecting the crowds who had been arriving for many days and weeks, much as the mourners had once made their way to the mountain of the guardian. This time, the people gathered not to mourn, but to celebrate.