The King is a Woman (Crepusculum)

Prologue

The person abruptly closed the fan and pointed the closed fan toward the man's nape, who was kneeling down before. Then, the fan swiftly moved and the person tapped it, sending electricity coursing through his body. As it began to trace the bare skin on his neck, he smelled a pleasant scent that he had never smelled before, emitting from the fan. His eyes darted downward, but he did not budge. His demeanor remained calm, at least he tried to appear so.

"Speak, young man, what is your name?"

The man's eyes slightly grew larger in surprise, along with the rest of them. He had thought that the person would sound more imposing, but the voice was more like that of a sweet-toned songbird than that of a forceful monarch.

It sounded like a-

"Answering, My Liege," he paused, gulping, "The name is Darsh."

"Stand up."

The servants carefully selected the most luxurious and fragrant flowers from the garden, submerging his body deep in the bathe. They attempted to scrub away any impurities from his skin, using mysterious crystal-like substances and applying natural moisturizers from boiled leaves and butter. Much to his annoyance and frustration, they removed a significant portion of the hair on his legs, armpits, and even on his chest.

The king decided that the man should wear a red kimono. He wore an iris flower patterned with golden thread robes that shimmered in the light. Iris resembled masculinity and virility. His robe's material was soft and fine, draping flawlessly over his broad shoulders and accentuating his lean, muscular frame. As he moved quietly with his elegant robes, somehow his ragged countenance faded and instead, a royal look emerged from his aura. One could not help but express their admiration verbally with a slight sound. He exuded an air of confidence and boldness that was so alluring even for the male eunuchs serving him.

Now in his fragrant garments and with velvety, hairless skin, he could help but perceive himself as nothing more than a commodity sold in the markets again, just like in the past, just that this time he was being bought at the highest price. But again he was just like a cheap courtesan serving a wealthy merchant. A realization that seemed to align with the intentions behind his transformation.

"You must be extremely punctual and arrive at least half an hour before Her Majesty's bedtime to ensure that everything is in order. Speak in a soft and respectful voice and be careful not to anger Her Majesty. You must be discreet and always act with the utmost respect and dignity toward..." The eunuch speaking in front of him kept on enumerating all the rules he must obey, and to be honest, he did not care for it that much. He was promised a huge sum of money in exchange for serving the monarch for a night. He could not care any less for the rest. It was not as though he would be doing this for the rest of his life. It would just be a one-time, month-long arrangement. After that period, he would receive compensation for his services and be granted freedom from the male concubines' abode, known as the Haven Sanctum.

He felt like he was drugged. Everything he did was done in a daze, and so many people had already touched his body in just a matter of one night. Nevertheless, he remained mentally alert. He was also still able to appreciate the intricately decorated corridors. The walls were adorned with paintings that depicted scenes of nature and gods' stories, while the floors were made of polished hardwood and covered with bamboo mats. All the servants bowed low and gestured when he passed by and he felt compelled to bow back too.

As he was led by the servants toward the royal chambers, he felt a sense of weird feeling arising from his stomach. He was a man who knew nothing of refinement and elegant stuff. He did not care much about the magnificence of the royal castle, but he was indeed in awe and could not find words to describe the place. Their house might be big, but certainly, the castle was a hundred times bigger, and their tattered house could not even compare to this.

He had been born into an impoverished warrior household from Sumiancitus City in the North. His father used to serve a local count who ruled the area until he was dismissed for unknown reasons. His mother, although a daughter of a baron, was still not regarded as a family member since marrying his father. The plague had killed his older brothers, only he remained alive. His parents had done their best to shield him from the harsh realities of the world. Although he grew up with two servants, he had always been aware of their financial limitations.

Being reminded of his family's situation, he grew even more resolved to satisfy the monarch.

With every step, he felt his heart race in anticipation of the moments to come.

What a sight to behold!

Under the candlelight, he could not tell if her eyes were a deep shade of green or gray. Her lids were as delicately curved as the petals of chrysanthemums, and her lashes fluttered like those of the butterflies in Spring, at the gardens of Kambetsu. Her almond-shaped eyes were reminiscent of the flowers in full bloom. She had porcelain skin that glistened with a soft sheen, and her features were elegant and refined. Even though she was wearing six layers of clothing, one could sense her lithe figure underneath. Every movement she exuded oozed grace and a sort of force, an unbreakable spirit.

She...was a woman?

'The king is a woman.'

This realization hit Darsh like crazy. What was happening? Had it always been this way? Was King Kazuo a woman all along? Were all the kings before him, women? Was history bullshit after all?

Were the Diemnox gods a lie too?

His fierce and penetrating eyes were like those of a lion, able to pierce through her will, making her unable to resist him. What was it, that force in him, making her want to draw nearer and nearer until she suffocated herself and would want to break free? And then there was his hair, flowing in unruly waves, cascading down his broad shoulders like the river Stek. But what truly set him apart was his bearing-the unshakable confidence and swagger that dared anyone to challenge him. This man seemed he knew no fear, she thought.

How could it be so?

She did not like it. He should be fearing her.

"Atrocious. Kneel before your king." Her voice was so commanding as if there was a thread pulling his body to follow. He knelt before Kanaise, slowly, as if seducing her with every inch he moved. He dared not look, dared not feel.

Her bare feet, delicate and small, stopped before him.

"Greet."

"Greetings, Your Majesty. The Diemnox gods are always with you and within you, and their light shines forth through you-"

"Enough."

Her soft and delicate hand descended to his face, touching his chin with mild pressure. She lifted his chin up, and their eyes met. Hers were like emeralds buried as treasures in a dark chest, while his eyes were the darkest earthy hues placed before her light aura. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity-lost, confused, and curious. The only movement in the room was the flickering of the candles.

"I want your seeds in me, now." She demanded. Darsh's eyes widened, his manhood immediately hardening. Never before a woman was this bold before him about wanting him.

"Beget me with a child." The command in her voice, the assuredness in her aura, made him feel wanted, needed. He stood up, his chest rising to meet her face, his body towering above hers. He was hers to command.