Queen Arthur (Futanari Erotica Fairy Tales Book 6)

Queen Arthur

(Futanari Erotica Fairy Tales #6)

By

Julie Law

Copyright ©2014

All Rights Reserved

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Epilogue

A
sword laid embedded in the rock, its hilt and the beginning of the blade the
only parts visible, yet that was enough to show its sheer beauty.

The
grip was made of black stone-like substance, uniform and smooth. Silver adorned
the pommel and the cross-guard while golden lettering could be seen all over
the sword – letters of a kind that most of those gathered around the stone had
never seen before.

Of
those men only Merlin, wisest of all wizards, could read those golden words,
but he wasn’t preoccupied with their content, already knowing what the words
said. He was too worried about other matters.

Part
of him felt like scoffing.

He
was surrounded by kings, nobles and princes, yet he felt like he was surrounded
by children, kids who were constantly provoking each other.

He
was worried about what would happen to his country if one of them took the
sword from the stone.

A
war was likely, but Merlin supposed he could do nothing about it. Not at this
point. His only comfort was that – behaving like that – none of these men would
be the chosen one.

He
shouldn’t have obliged the request of the Lady of the Lake.

He
should have ignored the fae woman and thrown the sword into the lake the moment
he understood what it was, but he had been awed by the possibilities the Lady
had dangled in front of him.

A
United Kingdom, the Isle of Britain reunited under the leadership of a single
king, ending the strife of brother against brother that had been going on for
centuries.

Merlin
shook his head.

It
was folly.

The
men around him wouldn’t bow down to just anyone – simply taking Excalibur from
the stone wouldn’t be enough to convince them, no matter how powerful it was …
and Excalibur
was
powerful, exceedingly so.

Merlin
could feel its magic from several feet away, a golden pool of pure energy that
would be capable of destroying anything in its path.

The
wizard turned his back on the stone and walked away, needing to be alone for
some moments.

At
first he had hoped one of the wisest kings would take the sword, pry it from
the stone and wield it – it would be easier for the others to fall in line if
the prophesized ruler was already powerful or respected.

In
that case, Merlin’s backup and Excalibur would make sure a new regime would
swiftly follow, but it was not to be.

Not
even Uther – who Merlin grudgingly admitted as the wisest king in the isle –
succeeded in taking the sword from the stone.

Tensions
increased when the last of the British rulers tried to lift Excalibur and
failed. Those without heirs turned their backs on their counterparts and left
the gathering, muttering behind their backs, calling Merlin a charlatan.

They
were afraid of what was to come.

Others
remained, waiting for their allies and retainers to have a try, hoping the
wielder of Excalibur featured amongst their ranks.

As
time passed more and more men left the scene, until only the most powerful and cunning
remained – those that understood that only by being in the thick of things
would they be able to affect the outcome.

Merlin
worried.

He
could vividly remember the words from the Lady of the Lake, words he made his
own when he convinced the kings of Britain to gather here.

Whoever pulls the sword from the stone is the rightful King of the
Britons.

The
wizard sighed.

He
felt old and, for a moment, he wanted to give up, leave these men alone and
rest, but then he heard it – the sound of laughs and mocking. He turned around
and saw a child approach the stone under the scrutiny of those gathered.

Merlin
couldn’t figure out much about the child from afar, seeing only the lad’s long
golden hair matted with dirt … and yet there was something child’s pose, some
inherent confidence that made Merlin pay attention to him.

Some
of the others must have seen it too – no one stopped the child from reaching
forward and putting a hand on Excalibur’s hilt.

The
hand tightened around the sword and pulled, the blade becoming visible in its
entirety, leaving those gathered speechless.

The
child thrust the sword upwards and Excalibur shone gold, so bright the men
gathered had to close their eyes. They fell to their knees, knowing they had
found their king.

The
light washed over them and they opened their eyes, their sight fixed on the
figure holding Excalibur. And yet, despite all that attention, only two men
realized a truth about their new leader.

Merlin
exchanged a look with King Uther, and the other man nodded.

They’re
new king – the prophesized ruler of Britain – was a girl.

Morgana
hated Arthur.

She
had always hated the other woman, ever since they were children and Morgana’s
father – Uther Pendragon – told her Arthur would one day be her husband and
become the King of all Britain.

The
then eleven years old Morgana had turned to her father and asked, confused,
about how two girls could marry each other.

Her
father had exchanged a look with Merlin and then they whisked her away;
imprisoning Morgana in her quarters until they told her what had happened and
made sure she understood her role in the events to come.

At
first she screamed and refused them, but as the weeks went by and Uther didn’t
relent, she surrendered and accepted her fate. Her betrothal was announced that
same day and her hate became set in stone.

Few
knew that Arthur was a girl.

The
older girl was an extremely androgynous child and Uther lied about it, knowing
a female ruler wouldn’t be well accepted. He went as far as making his daughter
Arthur’s bride so that there could be no doubt.

Merlin
strengthened that deception with his spells, masking Arthur’s true figure – all
for the good of Britain.

Those
spells hadn’t been powerful enough to fool Morgana who had some innate magic of
her own. She had seen right through them the first time she saw Arthur.

Merlin
told her afterwards that she had the potential to become a powerful witch or sorceress
and, for some moments, Morgana dreamt she would be able to use those arcane
powers, learn enough magic that she wouldn’t have to obey her father and marry
Arthur.

Her
hopes were dashed the moment her father refused to consider the matter, forbidding
the wise wizard from teaching her.

Uther
knew her well, knew what she would do if she could.

Morgana
hated her father for it.

Uther
was ready to sacrifice everything – his lineage, his kingdom and
his
daughter
– for the dream of a United Britain, something he believed only
Arthur could provide.

A
marriage between Arthur and Morgana would be one more layer to the deception
Uther and Merlin had weaved, a way to both legitimate Arthur as the ruler of
Camelot and strengthen the blonde’s position.

The
only one that would suffer for it would be Morgana, who would be forced into a
marriage where she would be left loveless and childless, unable to continue the
Pendragon line and living a lie for the rest of her life.

It
might have worked out if not for Arthur’s enemies.

Arthur’s
reveal as the chosen one had given her lots of enemies, especially from those
that would lose the most with her new kingdom. Petty kings and nobles figured
extensively in that list, and not even Camelot’s protection was enough to dissuade
them from trying to attack Arthur.

There
were several attempts on the blonde’s life during years, usually foiled by
Merlin or by Excalibur’s power, and as time went on they became scarcer, less
frequent due to Camelot’s increased power and Arthur’s soaring popularity.

Those
enemies decided to wait for the right moment to strike a decisive blow – they
waited for the day of Morgana’s marriage to the blonde.

It
was an attack that was doomed from the start.

Merlin
was too powerful, as was Arthur when she wielded Excalibur, and Camelot had
gained too many allies during the years. The fighting was quick and decisive,
yet it acted as a distraction and allowed Morgana to escape from the city,
leaving behind the life she had ever known.

She
had been eighteen years old.

It
didn’t take long for her to realize she wouldn’t be able to survive on her own,
but she tried anyway, knowing that at any moment her father’s men might find
her and drag her back.

She
felt free like when she had been a child; she had no worries, she had no
destined fate – she could live her own life.

It
didn’t last and in the end she was captured as she had feared – not by her
father – but by Nimue, one of Merlin’s most dangerous enemies.

When
Morgana met Nimue she had been both terrified and intrigued.

The
woman was powerful and above all she was willing to teach Morgana, show her how
the world worked and what she could do with magic, but there was always a price
to pay for Nimue’s mercies.

Where
Morgana was concerned that price was, most often than not, paid between the
witch’s bed sheets, the princess having to surrender her body and spirit to
Nimue’s ministrations.

The
times when Nimue requested another payment were worse.

Nimue
was a sadist – someone who took pleasure in the pain and humiliation of others
– and Morgana learned soon enough she preferred the humiliation of being the
woman’s whore than of being her victim.

Morgan
spent three years in Nimue’s company. Sometimes she couldn’t help but feel it
was ironic in a way; she had fled from her home to be free of a marriage to a
woman and ended in a worse situation, in the clutches of a far scarier female,
someone much more interested in her body than Arthur had been.

It
made Morgana hate even more, yet her hate wasn’t directed at Nimue – it was
directed at her father, at Merlin and at Arthur. It was their fault she was
there, because they wouldn’t let her be free.

At
least Nimue had made her powerful.

Eventually
Merlin caught up to Nimue and the woman was killed. Morgana was forced to flee
once again, but now she was powerful enough to live and thrive on her own.

She
managed to escape Arthur’s reach for another two years, but eventually Camelot
caught up to her.

*****

Morgana
shook her head, her curly black hair swaying from side to side, hearing the
sound of the Arthur’s knights storming her fortress. She couldn’t think about
the past, not when she needed to get moving.

Quickly,
she grabbed her grimoire and a few other items from her study and moved,
running towards her room, while armored men climbed the stairs towards her
position.

“Wait,
stop in the name of the king.” Someone shouted, but she ignored him, running
even faster.

Whoever
ordered her to stop cursed and followed.

Morgana
entered her room and closed the door, casting a spell in it afterwards. The
wooden door flashed blue for a moment and it didn’t budge when someone crashed
against it a few moments later.

Morgana
sighed and gathered her clothes, moving as fast as she could. She wasn’t as
powerful as Merlin and, if the wizard was amongst the attackers, she needed to
escape before he reached her.

She
put all the items she had collected in a burlap sack, careful not to joggle
them too hard, before she started to cast the spell that would transport her
out of the fortress. It wasn’t easy – it was a very hard spell and it took
time– but she believed she would be able to finish it before her attackers broke
in.

A
moment later she was proved wrong as the door splintered into little twigs of
wood.

Morgana
blinked in startlement as she saw who had done it, her spell wavering for some
moments before she managed to retain control of it.

Arthur
lowered Excalibur and focused on Morgana, seeing her former fiancée for the
first time in years.