Galathia becomes the Duke's cohort

Galathia, the queen of elves. She was a gorgeous woman with an unusually buxon figure, she was dressed in a gossamer attire that glowed with protective magic. Her lustrous golden hair reminded one of the sunlight reflected in a gentle stream, and her lush green eyes was nothing but the very spring, life after a season of ****.

She knew Aloric, and knew his plans to conquer the Southern Hills and florest, but he didnt offer a word to appologise for his ambition. "True. it is my intention to stand as Lord of the named, that did not change" His tone was simply matter of fact, she also seemed unphased.

"If I may, uncle?" Nathalie speaks with a fluent clarity the fair language, and address the queen. "Reign, my Lady, not conquer. Deeds speak louder than words, and yesterday your subjects saw our true character, what we would do with power. Ask them."

And indeed, the few blade singers that were there spoke nothing but praise in their name, valiant sacrifice for someone they should consider an enemy. "I heard enough. Duke Aloric, if you promise to threat my people as your own, I am ready to pay you homenage"

The Duke had a regal bearing in accepting it. Details were agreed upon, the Duke would take an elvish cohort, and receive a tithe annually, as well as a hundred archers whenever he was to march.

"and, for your cohort, I would suggest..." The queen never finished her words. In their conversation the two humans, the duke and his daughter, were gradually allowed closer. Now there was nothing that stopped him from taking in his arms the featherlight queen, and plant a domeniering kiss on her lips. Nathalie was right there, angst and jealous, seeing her uncle coerse submission from the lovely queen. Protests were smoothed with renewed passion, and eventually engulfed by the mortal flame.

"Who were you suggesting?" The Duke asks smugly, leaving the Queen panting for more "Galathia" Chuckling or shocked, most of the attendants retire, to give the two lovers some degree of privacy. Voyers, though, stayed behind.

Nathalie couldnt, wouldnt, leave. It pained her heart to see this elven beauty lovingly caressed, while her own experience involved only deceit. His large hands slid inside the flimsy attire with ease, her own hands no less skilled in discarding his light armor. Her breasts were pressed against his firm, muscular chest. these lovers were in no hurry to take a step further.

Galathia was the first to sucumb to temptation, and touched her lover's erect member; her immortal finger tips adoringly handling the mortal cock. Her strokes were slow, her touch delicate, she moaned for the sweet nothings whispered in her ear. Nathalie hoped to see her uncle's expression to suddenly turn cruel, to see the Queen brough to her knees to service his manly cock. The bitch deserved none of this tenderness, Nathalie though as she didnt wipe the tear rolling down her cheek.

The Queen and the Duke kissed passionatelly, worshipping each other's bodies without regard for those who didnt leave. Her slim body showed extraordinary flexibility when the queen placed her right leg on his shoulder, without turning away from him, and slowly guided his cock to her sweet entrance. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and their lips meet as the Duke claims his cohort. Nathalie felt humiliated, the undenying proof of the Queen's superiority lay in front of her eyes, in the impossibly erotic position the two enjoyed; closeness and passion interwided together beyond anything a mere political pact could achieve.

Nathalie could hold no longer.