He followed her through the long corridors of the garrison's central keep. The air changed as they walked: from the public heat of the hall to the cool breath of old stone, then to the faint scent of rain leaking through narrow windows.

Their steps echoed in rhythm, her soft silk against his bare soles, a cadence that only they could hear.

They reached a side chamber—one of the council antechambers left abandoned after the purges.

The door to the side chamber slammed shut behind them with a heavy click—but the sound was drowned by Flora's feral growl, her body whirling on Aiden like a tempest unleashed.

No words, no hesitation; the fury in her eyes ignited into raw, desperate hunger, and she lunged, crashing into him with bruising force, her mouth devouring his in a nasty, sloppy kiss that tasted of blood and storm—tongues clashing in a wet saliva spilling down her chin as she bit his lip hard enough to draw copper, moaning into him like a woman possessed:

"Ahhhnngh..... Aiden..its been so lonng.!"

He met her savagery thrust for thrust, golden eyes blazing as his hands clawed at her gown, ripping the silk bodice down in one savage tear—exposing her heaving breasts, nipples already peaked and begging.

"You shouldn't have smiled," she gasped against his mouth, even as she ground her hips against the iron bulge in his breeches, the schlick of her soaked smallclothes audible through the fabric, juices flooding her thighs in hot anticipation.

Her fingers tore at his tunic, nails raking bloody trails down his chest—"It made them think you expected all of this"—drawing a guttural rumble from him as he shoved her back against the wall, stone biting into her shoulders.

"Didn't I?" Aiden snarled, voice rough as gravel, one hand fisting her hair to yank her head back—exposing her throat for his teeth to sink in, sucking a brutal hickey while his other hand plunged under her skirts, fingers—two, then three—shoving deep into her dripping cunt, curling viciously to scrape her walls.

She squirted instantly, a hot gush soaking his palm and splattering the flagstones

her scream a throaty roar: "Ooooohhhh fuuuck... you knew... cumming already... aaaaaahhhhh!" Her legs buckled, but he held her up, fucking her through the spasms with piston pumps, thumb grinding her clit like a pestle.

She closed her eyes briefly—or tried, lashes fluttering as another wave built, her hands fumbling at his breeches, freeing his cock—thick, throbbing, veins pulsing as she stroked him frantically, pre-cum slicking her palm.

"You knew what would happen," she wailed, hiking her skirts herself, guiding his tip to her entrance before impaling herself on him in one desperate drop,"Yesss...!, Deeper! ....deeper....!"

He did, hips snapping in a blur of savage pistons, the clap-clap-clap of skin slamming skin thunderous, mingled with the schlorp-schlorp-thwack of his cock churning her sopping depths—frothy cream building at the join, dripping in sticky rivers down her thighs.

"I knew they would break themselves trying to cage me," he grunted, spinning her mid-thrust—slamming her chest-first against the wall, breasts dragging raw on stone as he rammed deeper from behind, fisting her hair to arch her spine.

Her second orgasm crashed like lightning, walls spasming wildly—a long, orgasmic moan ripping free:

"Uuuuuhhhhhnnn... fuuuuck meeeee... you just... hastened the fall... mooooore!" She bucked back, meeting each brutal plunge, nails scraping stone bloody, her voice splintering into pleas as he mauled her clit from behind—fingers a vise, slapping wetly.

Her hands, still faintly trembling from the magic she'd unleashed, clawed back at him—gouging his thighs as she pushed onto him harder.

"Do you understand what I've done?" she sobbed, body convulsing into the third climax, gushing around him in a shameful flood—long wail keening:

"The Blood Commander... 'oh gods'.. was a vassal of Wessex... aaaaaahhhhh... his death will echo... cum in meeeee!" Aiden's laugh was a demon's rumble, vibrating through her as he yanked out, spinning her to her knees in the dust, her mouth engulfing him in a voracious slurp-gulk, throat convulsing on her own cream—slurp-slurp-mmmph—drool cascading as she bobbed frantically, eyes locked on his:

"Give it... ALL... to meee..."

"They'll have both," he bellowed, erupting down her throat—hot jets she swallowed greedily, choking with a satisfied, drawn-out moan:

"Mmmmaaaahhhh... so gooood.!"—milking him dry before he hauled her up by the hair, bending her over the dusty table—ass high, face mashed into wood—as he plowed back in with a deafening, her fourth orgasm seizing her in ecstatic silence turning to bellow:

"Ooooohhhh gaaaawwwds... cuuuummmiiiinggg... through the southern courts...!"

He pounded relentlessly, hips a hydraulic ram—the clap-clap-schlop wetter now, amplified by the schlick-schlick of cum-lubed thrusts, her gown in tatters around her waist.

"My father will demand justification," she gasped, legs quaking as he flipped her onto the table—legs splayed obscenely, folding her double with ankles by her ears, impaling her so deep it bulged her belly.

"The council will demand proof," she wailed, fifth climax convulsing through her in a squirt soaking his abs—nails carving runes down his back, long moan quivering: "Aiiiiddddeeeennnn... yesssssss... fiiiillll meeeee!"

"You acted as heir to Leonidus, not as daughter," he rasped, biting her nipple bloody—drawing a yelp that dissolved into grunts—flooding her with his second load—overflow bubbling creamy.

"You chose justice when they offered you politics." He dragged her atop him on the floor—reverse cowgirl, her bouncing with frantic thwack-thwack against his thighs, his slaps to her clit punctuating the sixth:

"Glrk... ahh... mooooore..."—a shuddering wail as she ground down, milking his third release deep inside.

She let out a shaky laugh—or tried, turning to face him on trembling limbs, frustration flashing as he flipped her missionary, ramming home for the seventh—schlorp-thud—the clap-clap a frantic drumroll, her seventh orgasm a prolonged howl:

"Justice is never enough for them... oooooohhhh... yessss... allll of yoooouuuu!"—walls spasming as he pumped her full again, cum gushing in waves down her thighs.

"For you, it was," he groaned, chasing his fourth with brutal lifts—standing now, her back to his chest, cock spearing up—thwack-thwack—her eighth piling on, moans endless: "Uhn! Uhn! Don't stop... you frightened them!"

Their eyes met again—or locked in the haze, space vanished as he bent her over once more, pounding through the ninth—schlorp-schlick-clap—a convulsive squirt: "I freed them... aaaaaahhhhhh.... there's a difference!"

He chuckled darkly, the sound muffled against her throat as he sucked another mark—his hand between her legs, four fingers stretching her anew—tenth building.

"You smile as though this is victory," she begged, voice splintered, body a quivering ruin as he yanked her hair, exposing her for teeth—her final climax a broken keen: "Moooore... break me... cuuuuum...!"

"It's not," he grunted, eleventh load erupting—flooding her battered core, leaking in creamy puddles—as they collapsed, tangled in humid wreckage, bites and scratches a tapestry. "It's the opening of the gate. They'll march their banners before the week is out. But today, you changed the story they tell of me. That matters."

Flora paced the narrow room—or crawled, then rose on shaking legs, gown whispering slick against flagstones, torn and stained. "You talk as if stories can protect you," she sobbed, stealing his cock again—straddling for one last, grinding ride—aftershocks rippling as she clenched around his spent length.

"They can," he rasped, hands on her hips, guiding the desperate rolls. "Legends live longer than kings." Her eleventh orgasm shuddered through—a soft, keening wail: "Yesss... fuck... more..."—before she slumped, sated.

She turned, frustration ebbing into glow. "You always speak in riddles."

"Because truth spoken too plainly dies too quickly," he murmured, helping right her tatters. "And because I want you to live through what's coming."

For the first time, her strength faltered completely—but rebuilt in the afterglow, smaller yet unbreakable. "And what will you do?"

Aiden looked toward the high window, light painting his hair silver amid sweat. "What I always do. Walk the edge between ..."

She crossed—or staggered—in two steps, legs locking around him for a sloppy, final kiss—tongues tangling. "You're not alone in this."

"No," he said, smile ghosting his lips. "Not anymore."

The words hung, vast—sealed in seed and fire. Thunder rolled outside—distant, deep—mirroring their storm.

Flora drew breath, composure piecing back, thighs quivering slick. "We will have to face the court in Leonidus. My father will want answers."

"Then give him truth wrapped in glory," Aiden said, rough-voiced. "Tell him you defended honor, that you punished deceit. He will see only the strength of your house. And when he asks about me—"

"I'll tell him you serve that same honor," she interrupted, hand on his chest—heart's wild thrum.

He smiled, gratitude—and hunger—lingering. "You always were better at politics."

She stepped closer, one last grind against him—before duty. "And you were always worse at hiding your heart."

He chuckled low. "Perhaps."

They stood, breaths syncing in musk-thick air—rain, stone, sex. Every glance, breath, warmth spoke: bond in defiance, fire—consummated desperately.

At last, Flora drew back. "We must return. They will be waiting."

Aiden inclined his head. "Lead the way, Lady Leonidus."

Formal title, reverent tone—throat-tightening.

She turned to the door, paused, looked back. "You once told me that the world only bows to power born of conviction. Do you still believe that?"

"I do."

"Then let them bow," she whispered, swollen lips curving secret.

She opened the door. Corridor bright—clank of armor, shouts, murmurs—dulled by respect as she stepped out, marks hidden beneath tatters.

Aiden followed, stride unhurried, expression unreadable. Knights stepped aside; nobles bowed—not to rank, but power, inevitability, beginnings unseen.

Flora ascended the dais. "This court is adjourned. Carry word to Leonidus: justice has been served."

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