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Peculiar	By : GhostStories Category: +M through R > Okage Views: 1646 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Okage, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Peculiar
- 1
I just bang on the keyboard
and this stuff comes out.
Disclaimer: I don�t own
Okage. I mean well I do, as in I bought the game and it�s on my shelf, but the
rights to it and all of its characters aren�t mine- and it�s probably better
that way, I�d just mess it up. I�m not selling this and making no money off of
it. Just an F.Y.I, in case you didn�t know�
Also Stan might be a bit
OOC, because for the purposes of this story I need him to be more of a smarmy
seme and less of a complete jackass.
I'm so sorry for this. I
had no idea where it was going when I started�.

�� Despite what he had hoped, regaining his power had,
apparently, NOT meant losing contact with those who had usurped it, for Stanley
Hihat Trinidad XIV, the Evil King of Shadows and Lord
of Terror; found that even at full power, he was still in the company of his
former traveling companions. And what�s more, they were in his home, and he had
invited them.
�� When he thought about it, surrounded by former evil
kings, princesses, heroes and followers, it occurred to him that even if he
didn�t really like them, being a source of great terror was no fun unless there
was someone to terrorize. And being a king of anything was meaningless if there
was no one to acknowledge you. And so, while at first he was anxious to get
away from them, he now found that after a short period of being alone to do as
he pleased, he would still seek them out from time to time. Especially Ari, his
personal slave and second best minion (after James, of course), and Rosalyn,
the hero, his eternal rival, whom had sword to kill him and who he actively
sought out on a regular basis, for the sole purpose of the great amount of malicious
joy he found in tormenting her. If she thought she had seen the last of him
after their battle in the World Library, she was sadly mistaken- for how could
he prove his power, his superiority, to people who he knew were no competition?
No, she was the one last person who refused to acknowledge him, to bend to his
will, to submit to his power.
And that was fascinating.
All of the others, on
some level or another, were already under his power. The bull worshipped him,
the scholar was interested in him, the singer was entranced by him, the poet
respected him, and the peasant girl, well, she was of
no mind. She was only interested in Ari, and Stan of course held power over his
own slave, so she was his as well by proxy.
�� But it was the hero still held him in contempt, who turned her nose up at him, who swore to be the one to
bury him. For she protected the people by vanquishing evil, and what was he but
pure evil incarnate? They were polar opposites, neither willing to submit to
the other, forever sharing a bitter loathing for each other, locked in an
eternal battle of good versus evil. It was marvelous. What more could he ask
for? It was wonderful to have an eternal rival. It filled him with a feeling of
wicked glee, to appear suddenly from the shadows when she wasn�t expecting him,
to throw a taunt from a dark alleyway, to help her kill some unimportant ghost
just to insult her, to touch her just to feel her skin tighten and freeze. In
fact, over the past couple of weeks, he found that more and more lately, he had
been just happening to show up in the same places she was, just for the
satisfaction of watching her scowl. Often recently, appearing
before her with no real purpose, sometimes not even making his presence known,
just watching. Watching as she righted wrongs, helped the citizens,
cooked her dinner.
�� Last night was when he had realized that there was
something wrong with the mechanics of their relationship, something one-sided
that was throwing the whole perfect system off balance. Something
that threatened to destroy their dynamic. He realized this when he crept
into her room to watch while she slept.
�� Stan scowled darkly from one end of a long dining
table. His guests had finished a banquet he had had prepared in celebration of
his recent acquisition of a mansion (supposedly haunted) from which he would
conduct his evil, and were talking merrily among themselves. On the other end
of the table, the hero in question was engaged in conversation with Linda, the
little horned diva. Kisling was enraptured in
discussing great details of some obscure new project of his with the quiet and
possibly uncaring phantom Epros, and Marlene was
promising to invite Big Bull over some time to taste a new dish she had
recently learned how to create. Ari was listening to them all in content
silence- ignored, as he usually was.
�� The room was lit by candles instead of lamps,
hundreds of them, casting eerie glows on his company�s faces, reflecting off
the glass of their wine goblets, and dancing wildly across the wall, creating
hundreds of unpredictable shadows around the room. The atmosphere was
intentionally chosen by and was well suited to its designer, the King of
Shadows. Surrounded by this much power, he could do anything.
�� Stan watched, his chin
resting on his folded hands, as Rosalyn�s face lit up with laughter, mindlessly
spinning that pink parasol that hid her shadow. The shadow he had given her, the proof of their eternal bind. Her eyes shone with
delight. His with malice, and something else.
�� It was time to get these people out of his house.
�� Sweeping a hand through his red-blonde hair, Stan
rose, catching the attention of his guests, who quieted immediately.
�� Thank you all for coming,� he began with a
teeth-baring grin and malevolence in his eyes, �It was a pleasure to see all
you filthy mortals again. Now I�m sick of your faces. Go home.�
�� There was a moment of silent confusion among his
guests, but slowly they all rose from their seats and filed towards the door.
Rosalyn rose to her feet and was about to step away from the table, when to her
horror, she discovered that she could not move her feet. Glancing under the
table, her face blanched when she saw the shadows under the table gripping her
ankles, holding her still. Her eyes narrowed and she set her teeth, and looking
up, she shot a venomous look across the hall to Stan, who watched her quietly
with a vicious smirk. Rosalyn scowled.
�� So, you have something to say to me, do you?
She thought, as her friends walked past her. Ari alone stopped beside her.
�� Are you coming?� he asked curiously. Rosalyn hid her
irritation behind a pleasant smile.
�� You go on without me. The asshole and I have
something to discuss,� she explained, resting her cold eyes once again on the
demon on the other end of the room, who was grinning broadly at them. Ari
raised an eyebrow at her, but began to walk past. �If you say so�� he said
quietly, exiting the room. He was such a sweet boy. But there was nothing he
could do to help.
�� A deafening silence rang through the room as the hero
and the demon faced each other. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and
Rosalyn�s blood boiled with rage. Stan just watched her with a vicious little
smile.
�� It seems you�ve stayed behind,� He finally broke the
silence, �Is there something you needed to discuss with me?�
�� You know I can�t move, you dick,� she said through
gritted teeth, glaring daggers at him. Stan chuckled lowly and slowly began to
approach her.
�� Do you like my new home? It�s nice, isn�t it?� He
smiled darkly, enjoying this little moment of torture. He slid his fingertips
across the wood of his long dining room table as he walked. �I really like this
table. It�s teak. That�s the densest wood, you know. It�s incredibly heavy.�
His eyes caught hers, raging with fury as he spoke oh-so-casually, and he
grinned, and continued. �I had thought about lacquered oak, but that seemed too
pretentious. I liked the durability of teak.�
�� At last he reached her, and circled so that he stood
directly behind her. She shuddered as he leaned forward, and with a wry smile
and narrowed eyes, whispered into her hair, �I tell you this so you understand,
you can�t move that table by your self. It�s too heavy. You�re caught in my
shadows.�
�� Rosalyn�s blood froze, and her eyes went wide as he
took a step back. He had seen through her next plan before she could even put
it into action! She had hoped that by shoving the table aside she could escape its
shadows and be free, but he was a step ahead of her. What�s more, this
candle-lit dining hall was FULL of shadows. Even if she escaped the table, it
was likely he could catch her on something else. The hero grimaced darkly. That
sly bastard�
�� Stan turned around and leaned his back against her
chair casually, ignoring the hatred radiating off of his guest. �I think
there�s something we need to talk about,� he said smoothly.
�� You�re damn right there is! Where
do you get off trapping me here, you jackass?!� Rosalyn raged, turning
to face him with intensely hateful eyes. �This is no way to treat a lady, and
you�d better believe I�ll get you for this!�
�� HAH! I�ll treat a lady respectfully when I�m in the
company of one,� he smirked. �Being as I�m not, you get what I give you, Fatass.�
�� Rosalyn�s face reddened with anger as she tried to
forcibly pull herself free from the shadows binding her. �You Moron Evil
King!� she hollered, her voice echoing loudly through the empty halls,
�What the hell do you want?! Why am I here, you God damned fake?!� Her efforts
against his magic were proving useless, but she persisted, struggling violently
against the spell, much to Stan�s amusement.
�� Should have cast a protection spell before I even
came, she berated herself, Do I know any
counter spells? This is ridiculous!
�� Stan watched as she fought against his shadows with a
self-satisfied smirk. There was no way she was going to get lose, and she
couldn�t know any spells that would help her, unless she could hide his shadows
by casting something equivalent to �darkness�.
�� Which was probably going to be the first spell she
started to study, when this was over.
�� After a moment of struggling, Rosalyn realized that
this wasn�t going to be the way to win, and settled down with an angry pout.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared icy daggers at her captor.
�� Fine. I�m listening.�
�� Stan grinned darkly, and turned around so that he was
facing the back of her chair.
�� You�ve acquired a new spell recently,� he began.
�It�s VERY powerful. I just want to know where it came from.�
�� Confusion was now obvious on the hero�s face as she
raised an eyebrow at the evil king.
�� What spell? What are you talking about?�
�� Suddenly his hands slammed down onto the table in
front of her on either side of her, effectively trapping the girl. She gasped,
startled at the impact, and he leaned into her.
�� Don�t play innocent,� he snarled, and Rosalyn found
herself intimidated by the intensity of his voice. �You cast some kind of spell
on me, I know it was you. Where is it from?�
�� I�m telling you, I�m not the one you should be
interrogating, you dumb prick!� she snapped, trying to pull away from him but
only managing to press herself further into the table.
�I haven�t done anything!�
�� In a fury, Stan swept his hand across the table,
sending the wine goblet she had been drinking from flying until it shattered
against the floor. �You horrible, half-witted, lying cow!� he raged
vehemently, his eyes blazing and his teeth bared, �Tell me the truth!�
�� Rosalyn flinched, her eyes widened with fear. Her
hands instinctively sought out the sword at her hip, but she only got it half
drawn before his hand clamped down on top of hers, pulling the weapon away from
her and flinging it across the room. It hit the wall with a reverberating
clang, and a dull echo rang through the empty halls.
�� Rosalyn stared at it from across the room, horrified.
This wasn�t the way their fights usually went! This wasn�t how it was supposed
to go! She turned to face him, her blood again beginning to boil with anger,
and he regarded her quietly, intently, darkly. Whatever it was he was accusing
her of, he was very serious about it. He was never so frightening before.
�� You�.� She began, trembling in anger, and fear. She
couldn�t think of any words, her threats seemed useless now.
�� Again he smiled, viciously, poisonously. �Feeling
insecure without your sword?� He taunted her. She scowled.
�� I can still use magic.�
�� He leaned closer then, uncomfortable close. She tried
to move away, but was still surrounded by him. His voice was lower now, but
somehow, that was worse.
�� Yes, I know. That�s precisely the problem!�
�� I don�t know what it is you think I�ve cast on you,�
she breathed through gritted teeth, her chest heaving with anger and her heart
racing with fear, �But for the last time, I haven�t done a thing! Have you ever
known me to lie about something like that?� She turned to glare icily into his
blood coloured eyes. �If I�d cast a spell on you that upset you this much,
don�t you think I�d be the first to brag about it?!�
�� He glared back at her, his eyes blazing with anger
and malice and something else she couldn�t recognize, until finally his stare
broke through her own and she turned away, staring down the other end of the
long table. She�d hoped by doing so that he would recognize some sort of
twisted victory and let her be; she was willing to give him this fight because
she was totally under his power, and any moment now he would realize that she
was right.
�� But instead of backing away, Rosalyn was suddenly
startled by his fingers lightly brushing against her hair, tickling her neck.
She bared her teeth to give him a moment, it must have been some new trick to
confuse her and she would not submit to it, give him the pleasure of showing
how uncomfortable she was with it, showing her weakness. It had been a strange
thing he�d started doing recently- touching her for no apparent reason- but she
could ignore it. She refused to acknowledge it. She needed to act as though it
didn�t even faze her.
�� But he knew the truth.
�� He noticed that she shivered, went cold, that she grit her teeth together and scowled, that she ever so
slightly drew away from him. These subtle motions were the ones that he hoped
for, the ones that didn�t break her resolve but proved also that it made her
nervous, no less. Because it was so like her.
�� But she couldn�t indignantly walk away this time. Her
shadow was caught; he could touch her all he wanted, wait to see how long until
she broke. A wicked smirk split his face at the thought, and his eyes narrowed
with dark pleasure. From behind her chair, he leaned forward, bringing his face
closer to her ear, not even an inch away, and smelled her sun coloured hair,
which held the scent of some cheap brand of perfume. His fingers grazed her
shoulders, then slowly slid around to her collar. He
could feel her trembling, hear her ragged, nervous breaths, see her chest rise
and fall with her fear as he drew his fingernails lightly up her neck, up her
chin, up her cheeks, and finally brushed them through her hair. Perhaps
intentionally or perhaps unconsciously, she was drawing away from him, trying
to escape by leaning over farther into the table until she was nearly pressed
flat against it, but he followed her down, his face still hovering just over
her ear, until finally on a sudden impulse, he opened his mouth and slowly slid
his tongue up her pale lobe.
�� He was rewarded for this when the hero expelled her
breath in a small, frightened whimper. The evil king smiled viciously at the
sound, she was breaking. He was winning, and that excited him. His actions sped
up now, his heart was racing and his mind was clouding. How much more could he
get away with? How much longer until she cried out for him to stop? His hands
swept down her sides and back up again, memorizing her feminine contours, and
his face buried into her neck, biting and licking and sucking, she was wincing,
trying to bring up her shoulder to urge him away from her, and he could feel
her shiver and hear her breathe, her cry for mercy was just at the tip of her
tongue, and he wanted more. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her
chest, perhaps to safeguard her breast from his roaming hands and perhaps just
out of fright, and he wanted those, too, because she was trying to hard to hide
them. Breathing hotly into her neck, his fingers found the seam to her coat,
and with a swift pull, the buttons popped off.
�� Rosalyn gasped loudly; she could finally take no
more. She threw his hands off of her and glared hotly at Stan, her blood
boiling and her voice raging. �Get your hands off me, you perverted freak!� She
hollered vehemently, �What the Hell do you think you�re doing?!� Desperately
she tried to hold together her coat, her last shred of dignity. There was fear
behind her golden eyes, intermixed with loathe and disgust.
�� Startled momentarily, the evil king fell back. His
eyebrows were knitted together and he seemed offended and dazed. After a
moment, Stan grit his teeth and held his hands to his
head in absolute frustration.
�� What is wrong with me?!� He howled, his face
betraying confusion and hysteria. He turned away from her, and then turned
back, as if seeking an answer. �Why am I acting
like this?! This isn�t like me! Tempted by some� overbearing, obnoxious cow!
I don�t even like you!� He continued in violent exasperation.
�� For a moment, he seemed almost frightened, confused,
and bewildered, like something had really gotten into him that he couldn�t
understand and he was trying his hardest to fight it. Rosalyn chose to say
nothing, hoping he could work out his own inner turmoil, fearing that any word
from her would bring his attention to her again.
�� They said nothing for a moment, the silence only
broken by his loud and heavy breathing as he tried to collect himself, gripping
his hair and staring at the floor in severe contemplation. But the confusion
slowly faded from his eyes, and in its place was madness. He raised his violent
and heated gaze back to the hero, and she sucked in her breath for fear. The
evil king of shadows scowled darkly.
�� You,� he sneered, and without a word of warning,
stomped over to her and suddenly grabbed the back of her chair, pulling it out
from under her and hurling it across the room with a loud crash. The girl began
to fall but her caught her, and slammed her down onto the table, pinning her
face down and bent over. Rosalyn yelped and struggled, desperately trying to
free herself from his grip, but it was like steel.
�� You can�t tell me you�re innocent in all this!� He accused
harshly, pressing her front to the table with all his might. �I�ll make
you tell me the truth!�
�� Rosalyn�s eyes widened in fear at
the threat. She screamed loudly, hoping someone, anyone, would
hear, and watched in horror as two long, dark tendrils of shadow snaked up from
under the table and wrapped around her wrists, catching her shadow and holding
her tightly in place. Stan released his grip on her, but she was still caught
in his spell. Tears threatened to spill from the hero�s eyes but she held them
in as hard as she could; he would at least not get that satisfaction. He
pressed his hands to the table on either side of her and leaned forward,
growling lustily into her ear.
�� Whatever this is, I�ll get rid of it. This
bizarre compulsion, this hated passion, I�ll just succumb to it and be done with
it!�
�� It didn�t even sound like Stan talking, she
noted as her muscles tightened and her blood froze, a look of terror cast upon
her face, It was like a whole different person!
�� But her pondering was brought to a sudden halt when
he pressed himself against her, and she could feel his arousal even through all
their layers of clothing. He nuzzled his face into her neck, his breath was hot
and husky, and he growled lowly, grinding his hips against her, and even
through her coat and the awkward position she was bent in she could still feel
him pressing against her secret organ, and it filled her with horror and
loathing. Was there no way to stop him? Was she, with all her strength, truly
powerless? She fought against the restraints on her arms and legs, but it was
in vain. Even distracted, he could focus his powers so strongly into these
binding shadows, and she couldn�t think of a single spell that would get her
out of this. Rosalyn was starting to panic. She choked back the tears as hard
as she could and prayed for some kind of salvation from this torment, from this
evil.
�� Stan�s rough, roaming hands were everywhere, on her
shoulders, down her sides, on her hips, her thighs, up again, everywhere, he
could not keep them still, he wanted to touch
everything, all at once. She was trembling, squirming, fighting, and her
movements were intoxicatingly arousing, painfully arousing. He was grinding his
excitement against her backside, faster, harder, but it wasn�t enough, he
wanted more, he wanted flesh. Quickly he found her coat tails, and gripping it
roughly in both hands, he tore the thick material straight up, splitting it up
to her back. Rosalyn screamed again.
�� What are you doing?! Please, Stan, stop this!� She
cried in terror, but he was beyond words, and she was beyond rescue. She had
been hoping that he would regain his senses and stop this madness, but when he
found the waistband of her shorts and unremorsefully ripped her last layer of
defense away from her, tears finally spilled down her cheeks as she accepted
that hope was lost. Rosalyn openly cried, and Stan grinned darkly, insanity
behind his blood colored eyes. He reached forward and wiped the salty liquid
off her cheeks with a slow, languid brush of his finger. New tears instantly
replaced the ones he cleared. Smiling menacingly, he brought his hand to her
back, and gripped her rear roughly. Rosalyn clenched her teeth in fearful
anticipation, her forehead pressed against the wood of the table.
�� Are you ready to tell me now?� He asked, the tone in
his voice suggesting that he half hoped she wouldn�t, because he�d rather like
to proceed, and probably would anyhow.
�� I don�t know what you want to hear!� Rosalyn replied
through choking sobs, her tears pooling on the table. �I don�t have the
information you want!�
�� A shame,� he replied with en evil smirk and intense
eyes, his voice low and bemused. The rough hand on her buttocks slid low, down
to her virginity. Rosalyn gasped loudly and screamed again as she felt his
middle finger insert her. It was uncomfortable and painful and humiliating, and
he was enjoying it. The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes and she
couldn't restrain her sobbing as she tried in vain to squirm away from his
fingers, the index of which then slid towards her clitoris and began rubbing
intently at the spot, and he, grinning madly. She never thought him capable of
such an act, but she had underestimated him, and now she was paying for that.
�� While his right hand worked at her secret spot,
Stan's left hand came up her side to her breast, pressed flat against the
table. He worked his fingers in between her and the wood, and roughly grabbed
her mound of flesh, pulling it out of her bra and kneading it carelessly in his
grip. She whined, trying to nudge his arm away with her elbow but still more
concerned over the pain his right hand was instilling. His breath quickened,
his pants now seemed so painfully tight. To her great relief, his hands both
released her, but her hope was only temporary as she heard the zipper of his
pants. All of her muscles tightened as he loomed over her, his hand gripped her
shoulder roughly- the other hand, she could only imagine what it was doing.
�� "Please," she pleaded one last time, hoping
her words would reach him before he did any more. "You don't have to do
this. Please stop! I don't know what you want! Why won't you believe me?"
she cried. "Please don't do this! It's not you, Stan!"
�� "I've been an evil king the whole time,
Rosalyn," he replied maliciously, using her name for the first time that
night. "You shouldn't have let your guard down around me. You should be
more careful about the company you keep!"
�� "They say to keep your friends close and your
enemies closer," she bit back, snarling. He smirked.
�� "Well, we're about to become as close as enemies
can get," he laughed demonically, and grabbed her hip tightly.
�� Rosalyn screamed as an enormous pressure suddenly
filled her. It was greater than any pain she had ever felt, and for a moment
she hoped to God she would just die rather than have to experience this utter
and complete humiliation, this fear and this pain.
�� Stan grunted as he entered her, the feeling was
indescribable; tight and wet and hot. He felt new heights of ecstasy as he
began pumping into her, slowly at first but with increasing speed, to the music
of Rosalyn's choking sobs and his own labored breath through parted lips. He
didn't want to rush it, an opportunity like this wouldn't arise again, but his
excitement was getting the better of him. He tried to control his speed,
concentrate, appreciate the moment, revel in it, in
the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her. She tightened around him, her
muscles tense as she tried to reject him but it only heightened the sensation
of pleasure he was receiving, and her own physical pain. It was getting hot,
very hot. It even seemed humid suddenly. Stan moaned, unable to hold this slow
speed for much longer, finding he would soon reach his finale. He began to work
faster, and harder, slamming his length into her as far in as he could go, his
hips pounding against her rear. Her breath caught in her throat, her muscles
felt as though they were being ripped open, and she couldn't even scream
anymore as her body seized up. His sweat and their combined natural lubrication
slicked his erection and he pounded into the helpless girl, again and again,
faster and faster, blurring his separate senses into one glorious sensation. He
tried to make it last, panting and groaning until he reached his peak of
rapture, and released, filling her cavity with his hot pleasure.
�� His eyes rolled back, and he found Euphoria.
�� Rosalyn found her own tears pooled on the table. After
an awkwardly silent moment, he pulled away from her. The feeling of his exiting
was a great relief to her body, but her mind was broken. She had just been
violently soiled, and her body hurt so bad she wasn't certain she would be able
to walk for hours.
�� He'd violated her. She'd trusted him, to a degree,
and he'd broken their unspoken treaty, bringing their mutual dislike to a now
uneven burning hatred. Her bleary eyes couldn't even cry anymore, and dry tears
streaked her reddened cheeks.
�� Stan stepped away, and suddenly the shadows were
gone, no longer holding her. Rosalyn tumbled weakly to the floor and attempted
to upright, aching badly. She pulled her breast back into her bra, but he had
torn her coat and she couldn't button it closed. She tried feebly to hold it
shut.
�� Stan was turned away from her, his arm on the wall as
he leaned against it, his head hung. She could not see his face.
�� "....Go home." He said coldly, not turning
towards her. Rosalyn scowled, enraged with new levels of loathing.
�� "Kill me." She replied.
�� In a sudden fury, Stan kicked her fallen sword over
to her. It crashed to the floor beside her, hitting one of the table legs
before she snatched it up. "GO HOME!" he demanded again, now
displaying cold rage towards her. The hero hopped up, her teeth bared
menacingly, brandishing her rapier.
�� "Then I will kill you!" she declared, and
for the first time, meant it with all of her heart and soul. But her body had
less resolve than her spirit, and she wobbled slightly on weak legs. Stan rolled
his eyes at her.
�� "You could never kill me like that," he
chided. He then began to approach her. Frightened, Rosalyn started back, but stumbled
and fell down. Stan knelt down before her and stared intently at her. The
malice was no longer in his eyes. Nor was the anger, the insanity. Just intensity. Rosalyn glowered, her eyes still holding the
same poison as before. Then he spoke.
�� The next time we meet,� he began lowly, �one of us
will die.�
�� With those words he rose and turned his back on her,
stepping towards the wall. �Go,� he commanded without turning his head, his
voice commanding.
�� Rosalyn startled, enraged, confused by his ominous
prophecy, and frightened to take her eyes off of him. But before needing to be
told twice, she gathered her bearings. Snatching up her rapier, the heroine
jumped to her feet, pointing the weapon at her assailant.
�� His back was turned, now. If she could lunge forward,
she would probably�.
�� But her body was used, violated and weak. Her knees
wobbled as she stood on them, and her heart was beating irregularly. In this
state, the humiliated girl knew she could not win.
�� Without taking her scathing eyes or the point of her
weapon off of him, Rosalyn pulled her shorts back on, providing some relief
from her shame, and backed slowly towards the door. When she was over halfway
between the door and him, she turned and bolted towards it, throwing it open
heavily and speeding away from the terrible place. Stan never turned to look at
her once.
�� Rosalyn ran faster and harder than she ever had in
her life, clutching her coat closed where he had popped the buttons off, her
rapier ever drawn. It felt like the longest distance in the world to her
strained body and mind, but only when she got to Tenel village did she finally
stop to catch her breath.
�� Only one thought was spinning through her mind.
�� Stan had been right.
She was entirely
guilty. She had cast a spell on him. But she had no idea the effect
would have been this powerful! Foolishly, she had doubled the recommended
dosage of the potion she�d slipped him, because she knew he was no mortal, and
a mortal amount would not affect him. But she�d given the evil king too much
credit, and the spell went haywire through his system.
�� It was too much, she mentally berated herself
panting heavily from the stress, the love potion, it
was too much!
�� She�d only meant to weaken him! If he was distracted,
he would be easier to defeat. But she would never wish the affection of an
enamored evil king on any poor girl in town, and regretfully chose to take the
burden upon herself. But the doubled ingredients stirring through his
inherently evil body created a sinister, dark and violent result; one she never
could have predicted. By the time she realized what effect it had on him, she
was too afraid to take back her words and own up to her crime. What sort of
punishment would she have received then?
�� The heroine felt as though she was going to collapse.
She trudged painfully up the long steps towards the mansion on the hill,
exhausted and sure with each step that if she lifted her feet one more time she
would surely faint.
�� Finally she reached the large door, and collapsed her
weight against it to steady herself as she pounded her fist against it.
�� She didn�t know where else to go. She didn�t want to
burden Ari with her trauma but her feet had just taken her here. Who else could
she trust?
�� The door budged and she quickly reset her balance on
her own feet so she wouldn�t fall in as it swung open.
�� Rosalyn? What happened?� His voice filled with
concern, Ari was quick to recognize that something was wrong. When she looked
into his innocent, trusting face, her eyes filled again with tears. How could
she possibly trouble him with her shame? How could she shatter the image he had
of Stan? What had compelled her to cast such a juvenile spell, and worst of
all, why hadn�t she clearly thought it through? Of course Stan wouldn�t court a
girl like a normal person- he may have been a complete jackass, but he was
still an evil king, and she should have expected it. She�d brought it upon
herself.
�� No.
�� The hero grit her teeth,
steeling herself.
�� She hadn�t done anything to deserve that. No one ever
does. It�s what she would have told a girl in her situation, and it was what
she needed to tell herself now. She had to be strong.
�� Stan had also been right about another thing. The
next time they met, one of them would die.
�� Ari,� she began, and found her voice was a little
more distressed than she hoped it would sound, ��can I stay here tonight?�
- 1
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