Bound to the Crown

[pinklantern42]

Teaser: In a land where ancient elven traditions clash with brutal political conquest, Crown Princess Eileithyia is forced into a marriage that binds her to her enemies and her own despair. As her world crumbles around her, she must fight to reclaim her freedom, and her soul, before she is forever lost to the chains of power and betrayal.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Index:

• Chapter 1

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Title: Bound to the Crown
Author: PinkLantern42
Chapter Tags: Fantasy, Fae, Elven
Content Warnings: Non-Con, Humiliation, Rough
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Bound to the Crown

Chapter 1: Breaking in the Bride

The bells chimed from the northern tower, their heavy toll signaling that her time had come. The silken wedding gown draped flawlessly over her silhouette, its full, heavy skirts pooling against the floor. Gazing out at the crowded temple through the hazy filter of her veil, she took her first steps down the aisle. In accordance with ancient elven tradition, the temple stood on deeply sacred ground; every attendee was barefoot, a sign of humility and reverence for the earth beneath them.

Eileithyia had been the crown princess, the undisputed heir to the throne. But everything shattered when the great House of Dorvyre triumphed in the civil war. High Lord Aerendyl had conquered the realm, and by right of conquest, he claimed her hand in marriage. It was a calculated political move. The union would quell rebellion in the region while seamlessly solidifying his line of succession. Her future children would be raised on Dorvyre values, born to rule the woodlands with an iron fist. Eileithyia loathed the thought. Yet, as she stared ahead, she reminded herself that this sacrificial peace was the only way her people could survive.
As the priest recited the ancient vows, monks began the ritual of dripping hot wax over her palms. The sharp sting of the heat subsided only when her hand was placed into that of her husband-to-be, their fingers interlacing in sacred union. In that moment, a memory flashed through Eileithyia’s mind, the last time she saw her father, riding off to battle to defend her mother’s crown. She could still see the gleam of his silver armor and the proud weight of the sword in his hand. The price of the peace that followed was a trail of blood. Thousands of woodland bannermen slain, all so Dorvyre could rule their forests. Now, at the front of the temple, stood the victorious new royal family. Behind them sat the assembled noble houses from both the woodlands and the mountains, all gathered to witness her binding herself to the enemy.

The ceremony drew to a close, and her veil was lifted, revealing her to the victor. Aerendyl gazed down, drinking in her raven-black hair and striking hazelnut eyes. She looked up at him, taking in his sharp features. His golden hair was adorned with glittering gems, and the intricate crown of brazen gold broadcasted the immense wealth of the mountain elves. His chiseled jaw clenched as he recited the final, binding words. Surprisingly, her own voice did not falter. She echoed the verses back, clear and high-pitched in the quiet temple.

Trumpets blared from the balconies, and the temple erupted into ecstatic celebration. In stark contrast to the joy around her, a single tear traced down Eileithyia’s cheek. The wedding was over, and the dreaded bedding ceremony awaited.

The newlyweds were paraded out of the temple and led toward the High Lord’s chambers, pursued by an entourage of noblemen. Just before they reached the heavy wooden doors, Eileithyia’s aunt, Lady Verrona, grasped her roughly by the wrist.

“Do as he says,” Verrona hissed, her voice a sharp whisper. “Be willing, and be supple.”
Desperate, Eileithyia grabbed her aunt’s robes, her breath hitching. “Please, you can stop this. I can’t go through with it.”
A look of pure disgust flashed across Lady Verrona’s face. She violently wrenched her hand free and spat at her feet before turning away.
As Eileithyia entered the chamber, the courtiers nearby began to jeer, some clearly bored of the affair. Lord Aerendyl stepped inside, and the noise began to fade. He started to disrobe. Eileithyia slowly followed suit, removing her veil first. Down to her underclothes, in a moment of desperation, she turned and pounded on the door, pleading to anyone who could hear her.

“Please, open the door.”

“Please, let me out.”

What terrified her most was not what Aerendyl did next, but what the men in the room did. She felt her body being torn away from the door. Scrambling, she tried to reach it, but her limbs were swiftly restrained. Now standing in the center of the room, surrounded by councilmen, some of whom she recognized,her eyes met theirs, filled with a fear she could not bear to face. At that moment, restrained by so many, Aerendyl stepped forward. Towering over her, he spoke in a low, menacing voice.

“Your cooperation is not required. If you choose to cooperate, it will make this painless.”

“You think you have won,” Eileithyia spat back, her voice defiant. “But I will never play the loving wife. You will rue the day you conquered us.”

He began tearing at her underdress. She screamed, “No! You cannot do this!” Her struggles grew more frantic as her body was exposed. Soon, she was fully revealed. Barely past her elvish adolescence, her top barely covering her. Several councilmen transferred her to the marriage bed, where her limbs were bound with ropes.

“Please, you cannot take this from me,” her words were cut short by a sharp blow to the face. Breathing hard, Eileithyia was stunned. She had been raised in gentler surroundings, but it was clear Aerendyl would tolerate no defiance.

Her plea was interrupted when Lord Devros stepped forward. “My lord, please, do not toy with her. She is but a means to your offspring. Surely we can hasten this ordeal.”

A heavy breath escaped Aerendyl’s lips, and he nodded in agreement. He then moved to the end of the bed, positioning himself between her legs. Bending down, he held her legs on each side.

In elven tradition, a child born from pleasure is destined for greatness. As he lapped at her, Eileithyia’s sobs turned into gasps. Overcome by the sensation, her body betrayed her, and her back arched toward him. She did not want this. She could not. He was the enemy, and she refused to give in. Yet, her screams echoed through the castle as her body responded involuntarily. In a swift motion, Aerendyl closed in. With his trousers down, she felt his girth at her opening. She whimpered in anticipation of what was to come next. He bent over her and covered her mouth with his hand.

His first thrust was only partially successful because he used a member too large for her. As he pushed further with each thrust, her body stretched and met him with loud slaps of flesh. Eileithyia had never felt anything like this before. Her body was on fire with desire, and there was nothing to stop him. Her voice muffled by his hand, Aerendyl grunted and quickened his pace. Her opening, slick and velvet-like, soon enveloped his girth. It had been too long for such an act, and in a haze, Eileithyia was released from her bonds. She was propped up as Aerendyl held her hips. Bent at the edge of the bed, he drove into her again, pounding into her most private part. Her whole body was ravaged. Her hand clutched the blankets as her small breasts hung lower than ever, swinging with the vicious rhythm of his hips.

It was not long before her legs were streaming with him, and he reached his peak. As he withdrew, the room erupted in applause from the councilmen. He left her on the bed, and the men filed out, leaving only them behind.

Lying on the bed, half on and with her feet on the ground, Eileithyia wondered if she remained silent, perhaps he would forget she was there. Her hopes were dashed as he approached, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back.

In a harsh voice, he whispered in her ear, “You may never play the loving wife, but all anyone cares about is if you produce heirs for me. You are mine. I own you. You will rue the day you ever thought you could defy me.”

He released her hair, letting her fall toward the mattress, but then caught her. Scooping her into his arms, he laid her between the sheets.

His footsteps led him toward the adjoining door to his chambers. As the door closed behind him with a resonant thud, Eileithyia released a breath she had been holding and sobbed. This was to be her life: relegated to bearing heirs for the kingdom and forever owned by him. Her mind haunted her as she thought back to her mother in prison and her father’s head delivered on a plate for her wedding feast. These were the stakes. Crying quietly, she knew this would not be the last time Aerendyl used her.

End of chapter 1
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This is my first time writting a story like this, as well as my first time on the website posting. I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think and where you hope this story will go!

[Shocker]

Strong start, I liked the story. As a suggestion perhaps strike the one mention of her body being barely out if elvish adolescence. This might raise the wrong impressions, and is skirting a bit close to underage. The story is easily strong enough to not need that risky line.