Saving The Crown

When Courts are filled with gossip, threats to the Crown, every emperor's desperate deep efforts to seek victory, to secure their reign.

Orphaned as an only child at a young age, her mother's responsibilities to serve as the royal commander of northern armies of the court fell on Celrys. Her uncle filled for her as she grew up, ofcourse, but once of age, she had to serve.
Celrys was raised as along with the other daughters of His Majesty, but spend most of her time with the princes who taught her to fight.

Alaric Bruton, the heir to the southern armies of Rynland brutally trained by his father, was believed to be the most capable man in the entirety of the country. At a tender age of 19, he had won countless battles and his strategic planning and execution was heard of across the continent.

This is what was known by the common men and women about the legendary warriors of Dulreth.

. . .

"Cel." Alaric warned, his voice a whisper of plea. He begged a command. "Don't."

Cel smirked. She was enjoying this a little too much. She pushed her knee slightly forward, her fingers gently traced the thin sleeve of his shirt. Her fingers ran accross his chest, as she felt his breathing get heavier, she could feel the lust in his eyes, him craving her.

She removed herself from him, patted her skirts and turned around to walk away. She made it to about 0.2 seconds, before she found herself pinned against a wall, with no escape.

"I said, don't." He repeated, as though reminding her of the price she had to pay for her crimes. He pinned her hands over her head, as he tore away her gown, stripping her in one go.

Celrys was caught up between the mixed emotions of the sharp chill of pleasurable electricity that ran through her body as she cried, "My dress! Rick! Wh-"

She was cut off by him, as he forced his chapped lips on the nape of her bare neck, causing her to moan..

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