A sharp rapping came from the chamber doors. "Princess Isolde? Are you safe within? Orders from the King, to convey all royals to the secure haven beneath the palace!" It was the gruff voice of the chief guard.
Isolde, though still shaken, met Elaraion's gaze, her eyes alight with an adoration that was both potent and unsettling. "Fear not, good Captain! I am quite safe, I assure thee! A moment of fright, naught more."
"Princess, by the King's leave, I must insist!" the guard's voice rumbled, persistent.
Isolde's jaw firmed. "I have heard thee, Captain. I am safe. Lock the windows and double the watch on this wing, but I shall remain here. Now, pray, leave us to our rest!"
Elaraion, listening to her dismissive tone, felt a knot of unease tighten in his gut. She was refusing the King's direct order, risking her safety for him.
The arrow's effect was far deeper, far more compelling than he had anticipated. He wondered again, with a sudden, cold dread, what truly might happen if this enchantment were ever to be broken, if the princess were to wake from this magically induced devotion. What vengeance would she wreak upon him? He had perhaps, done too much.
A final, almost respectful, "As my Princess commands," came from outside, followed by the heavy thud of retreating footsteps.
Elaraion looked out the window again. The dragon was gone, merely a phantom in the pre-dawn sky, leaving only the distant, sickly orange glow of burning villages.
The gong still tolled, a mournful summons to arms. He felt exhaustion finally claim him, a heavyweight after the night's bewildering events. He slipped into a fitful sleep beside the still-panting princess.
***
He awoke to an empty bed, the silken sheets cool beside him. Sunlight, thin and pale, filtered through the high arched windows. He pushed himself up, his muscles protesting softly. Isolde was gone.
Beside the bed, on a small, ornate table, sat several trays laden with food. Fresh bread, thick slices of smoked meat, hard cheese, and a goblet of sweet, dark wine.
His stomach, long accustomed to meager fare, rumbled. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, the rich flavors a stark contrast to the coarse food of his previous life.
The chamber door creaked open and Isolde swept in, fully dressed in a gown of deep emerald silk, her red hair meticulously braided with golden ribbons. She looked like a true princess, regal and poised, yet her eyes, when they met his, still held that same intense, loving gaze.
"My dearest Elaraion," she said, her voice lilting with affection. She walked directly to him, taking his hands in hers. "Forgive my absence. I have just come from the court meeting. It was a tedious affair, all hushed whispers and panicked plans regarding the dragon. But I wished to tell my father straightaway that I wished to be formally betrothed to thee!"
Elaraion felt a jolt of shock, a cold wave washing over him. Betrothed? Already? It was too soon, far too audacious even for his burgeoning ambition. It would raise too many questions and too much suspicion.
This was not good for him. The arrow's effect was not merely a compelling attraction; it was driving her to immediate, life-altering actions, overriding her station, her family, and even her good judgment.
He was beginning to see that the influence of the arrows could be terrifyingly, dangerously deep. He needed to exert control, to know the limits, to understand the true nature of this power before it consumed him.
He rose to his feet, gently pulling his hands from hers. "Isolde, my love," he said, forcing a calm into his voice. "We must take heed. The dragon is a grave threat to Aethelgard. Let the King and his council first address this monstrous beast. Let the realm be safe and whole. Only then, once the danger is past, shall we announce our union. It would be… unseemly, to speak of such joyous matters whilst our people suffer."
She looked at him, her beautiful brows furrowed for a moment, a fleeting flicker of confusion. Then, the adoration returned, washing away any doubt. A slow, radiant smile spread across her face. "Thou art ever so wise, my Elaraion. My King. Thy foresight is boundless. Indeed, we shall wait. But I cannot wait to make our union known to all the world."
She lifted her head, her lips parting in invitation. He leaned down, claiming her mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. His hands, without conscious thought, slid down her back, cupping the generous curve of her ass, kneading the soft flesh through the silk of her gown. Her body pressed against his, the fabric of her robe shifting, outlining her form, the curve of her breasts, the enticing swell of her hips. The sexual tension, which had been a low thrum since their awakening, now hummed loudly, a tangible force in the chamber. Her breath hitched against his lips, hot and sweet. He pulled her closer still, wanting to feel every inch of her.
She broke the kiss, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, and took his hand, leading him back to the magnificent four-poster bed. She climbed onto the silken sheets, turning, and then, with a sensual sigh, positioned herself on her hands and knees, offering her pussy to him from behind, her ass lifted invitingly, a glimpse of the soft, reddish-gold hair between her thighs.
Yesterday, it had been a blur, a rush of overwhelming new sensations and a quick, explosive release. Now, Elaraion wanted to savor it, to explore this new facet of his existence, this new body that craved and responded with such fierce intensity.
He knelt behind her, his dick, already hard and throbbing, pressing against her labia. He inhaled her scent, a potent mix of roses and arousal. He placed the head of his cock at the wet, welcoming entrance of her vagina, feeling the slick heat and soft give. He pushed forward, slowly, preparing to enter her, his body humming with anticipation.
TIME STOP ACTIVATED.
Just as he was about to thrust into her, the world froze. Isolde, mid-breath, mid-moan, hung suspended. The rich chamber, the bed, and the diffused sunlight all became a tableau. Then, a new sensation. Not a sound, but a direct thought, a stark text appearing before his eyes, superimposed on the frozen scene.
WARNING. GRAVE THREAT DETECTED.
A list shimmered into view, names of Greek gods appearing one by one, shimmering with an ethereal glow.
ARES
APOLLO
ARTEMIS
ATHENA
DEMETER
DIONYSUS
APHRODITE
EROS
ANTEROS
HEPHAESTUS
HERA
HERMES
POSEIDON
ZEUS
Then, one name on the list began to blink furiously, pulsating with an alarming red light.
HERA. HERA IS AWARE. HER POWER IS AWAKENED.
Elaraion felt a cold dread wash over him, starkly contrasting with the burning arousal that had possessed him moments before. He was changing nature, indeed. From bullied boy to powerful manipulator, and now, caught in the crosshairs of ancient, mythical beings.
The text shifted, becoming more urgent.
HERA, QUEEN OF OLYMPUS, GODDESS OF MARRIAGE AND FAMILY. SHE DESPISES EROS AND HIS MALEVOLENT POWER. HIS MANIPULATION OF THE DIVINE BONDS OF LOVE AND UNION IS AN AFFRONT TO HER DOMAIN. NOW THAT EROS'S POWER IS AWAKENED WITHIN YOU AND IS IN ACTIVE USE, SHE HAS TURNED HER WRATH UPON THIS REALM.
HERA HAS RETURNED TO DISARM THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN STRUCK BY THE BOWS OF LOVE, PARTICULARLY PRINCESS ISOLDE.
HERA KNOWS THAT THE ARROW CAN AFFECT HER, HENCE SHE WILL EMPLOY CUNNING AND STRATEGY. SHE SEEKS TO NEUTRALIZE YOUR INFLUENCE AND, MORE IMPORTANTLY, TO DESTROY YOU.
HERA WISHES YOUR DEATH, ELARAION. SHE WILL ACT DIRECTLY OR INDIRECTLY. BE CAREFUL. YOUR EXISTENCE IS NOW KNOWN TO A DIVINE ENEMY.
The words burned themselves into his mind. His dick, which had been throbbing with desperate desire just moments ago, immediately softened, shrinking, the sudden influx of sheer fear extinguishing all arousal.
This was a foe unlike any he had ever imagined. Not a bully, not a mob leader, not even a king or a dragon. This was a god. And she wanted him dead