The Fall of the Wolf Ch. 01-02

"You shall be named Eleta," she murmured softly, "for you are the chosen one."

Chapter One

Northern Aglaia 1723

The village was small and isolated, nestled in a narrow valley among majestic peaks. Fifty families inhabited the hamlet, and they managed to scratch out a meager existence. The land was barely suitable for crops, but goats and sheep did relatively well on the rocky slopes. The weather was often harsh, especially the winters. Deep snow often made the single road that led in and out of the village impassable for months at a time. As a result, the villagers had formed a tight knit community, where they depended on one another for everything. It was that camaraderie combined with the sheer beauty of the setting that made the villagers want to stay. Their lives might not be easy, but they took pride in what they managed to achieve.

Most days were routine. Work started before dawn, and by nightfall, the villagers were in bed. The hours in between were filled with hard work, simple but tasty meals shared among family and friends, and sometimes an hour or so of more pleasant diversions such as music, knitting, or storytelling. It was a quiet and straightforward life for most of the villagers, and that is just what they preferred.

However, that all changed the night that their village was attacked.

A band of thirty raiders surveyed the village from the mouth of the valley. The men were heavily armed with guns and swords. Their horses stamped impatiently, eager for the charge. The leader of the band grinned with evil anticipation. It was time to have some fun. He turned aside to give instructions to his men.

"Remember, our orders are maximum destruction and to strike fear into their hearts. No mercy. Understood?"

He waited until his men nodded their understanding. The men took a moment to light torches, and then their leader gave the signal to attack. The raiders spurred their mounts and stampeded into the quiet village like demons from hell. Pandemonium ensued.

Within minutes, almost every building in the village was afire. The villagers screamed in horror as they rushed to grab their children and flee the burning buildings. There was no time to collect any belongings. They streamed out into the cold winter night. Most of them were dressed in their nightclothes. What greeted them outside was almost worse than the prospect of being burned alive.

The raiders rode hither and yon through the village, killing anything in their path. Men, women and children were stuck down indiscriminately, along with livestock of every size and description. The raiders who were not involved in killing were busy sacking the town. They seized anything of value. Women were thrown to the ground and raped brutally in front of their families. Anyone who tried to fight back was murdered on the spot. By the time the raiders had satisfied their lust for blood and violence, the village lay in ruins, and the surviving villagers were in a state of terrorized shock.

The leader of the band of raiders finally called a halt, and the attackers rode out as swiftly as they had appeared. They were in high spirits. Not only were they being paid well to conduct raids such as this, they were allowed to keep any plunder they had seized. Being encouraged to commit murder and rape always appealed to their violent and evil natures. They had thoroughly enjoyed carrying out their orders, and they looked forward to receiving generous payment for a job well done.

The raiders rode due east throughout the night and arrived at the prearranged rendezvous point where they were to meet with their employer. They dismounted and settled in to wait. The sky was just beginning to lighten when their patron, the Duke of Livius, appeared. He dismounted and approached their leader.

"How did it go?" he inquired.

The leader of the band of ruffians bowed low before him. "As usual, your Grace, the villagers presented no challenge. They had no real defenses. We did as you ordered. We killed many of them, and we destroyed their food stores. Most of the survivors will probably starve in the coming months. If mayhem and terror were your goals, we have succeeded yet again."

"Excellent," the duke replied with an evil grin. He tossed a large bag of coins to his henchman. "You and your men return to your quarters. I will let you know when your services are needed again. In the meantime, relax and enjoy yourselves."

"Thank you, sir." The raider bowed once again before turning and giving the order to mount up.

The raiders rode out of the clearing, but the duke remained. He was picturing the scene of the raid in his mind, and he grinned again. He wished he could have ridden with his men. He would have liked to be present to see the destruction. However, it wouldn't do to be recognized by one of the survivors of the raid. It would be most unlucky if some pathetic peasant reported his activities to the queen. For his plan to succeed, it was crucial that she not know of his involvement in the raids that were slowly decimating her kingdom. His intent was to make her need him, and once she came to him for help, he would be able to move to the next step in his scheme. Of course, she would never trust him if she ever found out about his involvement in the attacks.

Things were beginning to fall into place. He just needed to be patient, and soon, he would have Queen Eleta at his mercy. That thought brought an even wider grin to his handsome face. He was going to thoroughly enjoy bringing the haughty queen down several notches. She was entirely too independent and proud for his liking. He couldn't wait for the day she would have to humble herself and ask for his assistance in securing her country against further attacks. He would gladly agree to help her, but his help would come at a price. Collecting that debt promised to be rewarding in more ways than one, and he grinned yet again.

He had seen portraits of the queen, but he had never met her. Her beauty was renowned throughout the kingdom and beyond. The portraits he had seen had substantiated the claims of her exquisite loveliness and allure. His help would be granted contingent on her agreeing to marry him. He would not rest until he had her in his bed and dependent on him in every way.

That wasn't the only part of his plan, though. Once he had joined forces with the queen, he would finally be able to destroy his rival. Soon, his enemy would be destroyed, Aglaia would be reunited again, and the queen and her entire country would be under his control.

He mounted his own horse and rode home, looking forward to the future. A lifetime of dominating the beautiful queen promised to be very enjoyable indeed.

Chapter Two

Aglaian Royal Palace

Queen Eleta Versailles dropped her chin onto her hands and released a heavy sigh as she gazed unseeing into the darkness outside her window. How she had dreaded this day. It felt as if the weight of the world was resting on her slender shoulders. She would have gladly given all her worldly possessions, as well as her throne, not to be the chosen one.

She could hear the festivities in full swing all around the palace. Every man, woman and child in Aglaia was busy celebrating her eighteenth birthday. For them, it meant that their lives would soon be changed for the better. They would no longer have to struggle for every scrap of food, nor wonder whether they would be able to survive through the winter on their meager provisions. They would no longer worry about their women being raped, their homes being destroyed, or their livestock being slaughtered by the marauders who frequently raided their land from the eastern province. The time had come for the chosen one to save them, and they were understandably joyous.

Her loyal subjects did not know that for Eleta, it meant that the time had come for her to commit murder! It was awful enough that she had become the first queen of Aglaia to become betrothed to a man she did not love. She would be forced to accept a loveless union in order to reunite her kingdom and save her people. But now, she had to commit the ultimate sin. She had to kill a man, brutally and with cold premeditation. The prophecy foretold that she must kill her enemy the wolf, otherwise known as the Duke of Argyle. It went against everything she believed to be right and just. And yet, it was her sworn duty.

Eleta had heard the prophecy almost every day of her life, and it was unfolding just as it had been foretold over two hundred years earlier. She retrieved the ancient scroll and read it for the thousandth time, desperately looking for a way out of her predicament. As her eyes scanned the familiar text, her fingers trembled , already knowing well that the words would be of no help.

The chosen one shall choose a prince

And promise him to wed,

But ere she does, she must commence

The duty that she dreads.

The wolf roams free both wide and far

And maidens yearn for his embrace.

Though none of them shall touch his heart,

He will vow to take a husband's place.

Then on the eve of his hunting feast

While revellers drink and laughter peals,

The Queen will come to take the beast

And his true purpose will be revealed.

The chosen one will pluck him nigh

And ravish him against his will.

Her beauty and her longing sighs

Will ensure the prophecy is fulfilled.

Unable to resist her lure,

He will succumb to all her charms,

And though she'll leave him most unsure,

He'll revel in her silken arms.

The wolf shall pluck her maidenhead

And assert a lover's rights.

He'll wallow in her royal bed

For seven lustful nights.

And once the wolf's seed is in her womb,

And with virgin blood the sheets are stained,

With great delight she will entomb

Her enemy, whom she has slain.

Do not mourn the wolf's fall when comes the dawn,

Nor lament his conquest unduly.

For in years to come, the child he spawned

Will reunite the kingdom truly.

Eleta blinked several times against the tears burning the backs of her eyes. It was always the last couple of verses that stymied her. She knew all about seduction. She was prepared to give her maidenhead to a total stranger. She had spent years learning about the sensual arts, and she was confident she could lure the wolf into her bed. The part she found difficult to fathom was that after sharing such intimacy, she would be able to kill the wolf with brutal and cold deliberation. To carry out such an act, she would need to be ruthless, uncaring and totally devoid of a conscience. She had never considered herself any of those things, and she worried that when the time came, she would not be able to follow through. As many times as she had rehearsed the wolf's assassination, practicing the precision of slicing his throat or piercing his heart, she found it hard to accept that she would actually do those things. Unless...

Perhaps the seduction would be unpleasant. Would the wolf be so despicable that it would be traumatic to bear his attentions? Would seducing and then yielding to him cause such pain and humiliation that she would be ready to kill him in the end? Eleta had been extensively educated about the physical act of lovemaking, but her studies had focused on consensual relations. Perhaps if one was performing the act under duress, without any tender feelings, it would be painful or even torturous. That thought was equally frightening. Even if she found the wolf's touch to be excruciating, she would have to endure his advances for an entire week in order to conceive his child. He was reputed to be very handsome and a skilled lover, but that did not mean that she would find him attractive. Maybe he was a ruthless, cold-hearted tyrant and she was destined to hate him.

Eleta closed her eyes tightly, but she couldn't stop a lone tear from escaping. As it rolled down her face, she angrily dashed it away and groaned bitterly. She rolled the scroll carefully and firmed her chin. She could not see herself taking great delight in killing someone, regardless of the how the seduction unfolded.

She did not know the duke personally, and therefore, she did not harbour any great personal animosity toward him, despite the fact that he was an enemy to her country. He was just some faceless foe, and yet she was plotting his doom. Granted, he was responsible for the terrible raids that continued to devastate her people, and for that she could never forgive him. Still, she had been raised to be moral and upstanding. She had been taught that forgiveness and mercy were always preferable to revenge and cruelty. If it weren't for the dreaded prophecy, she would find a better way of dealing with his treachery.

The wolf also continued to engage in occasional battles with her betrothed, the Duke of Livius. However, Eleta had to concede that the two dukes were mutually responsible for the continued unrest. Their families had hated each other for centuries. The wolf was no more at fault than her own betrothed. She wished she had some compelling reason to justify killing him so that she could fulfill the prophecy and save her people while maintaining a clear conscience. It would be so much easier if she knew him and he had given her grounds to despise him personally.

Ironically, the wolf had requested to meet her a year or so prior. It had been believed at the time that he wanted to offer for her hand in marriage. Of course, Eleta had declined his request. It would have ruined everything if he met her prior to the events spelled out in the prophecy. Her only hope of succeeding lay in having the element of surprise on her side. Thinking of it now, Eleta heaved a deep sigh. She felt like a black widow spider carefully planning the man's downfall.

She went to stand in front of her full length mirror and considered her reflection with as much detachment as she was able to. Could she really murder a man in cold blood? She examined herself critically, but nothing in her reflection provided the answer. Long flowing hair of the deepest black had been dressed high on her head in an intricate coiffure. When left in its natural state, it would hang to her hips in soft, shining waves. Her face was perfectly proportioned with large expressive eyes that were the color of fine sherry, a delicate and perfectly proportioned nose, high cheekbones and a firm but dainty chin. Her lips were full and winsomely shaped. Her long, slender neck curved gracefully down to meet her ivory shoulders. Her skin was pale and lustrous, her breasts high and lusciously full. Eleta tilted her head slightly as she took in her impossibly tiny waist and gently flared hips.

A slight frown marred her face as she studied her reflection. Eleta was accustomed to being the subject of the admiration and lustful attention of men. She wasn't conceited, but she knew she was both beautiful and highly desirable. She had been told that she was the very image of her distant ancestor, Queen Meleia. Eleta certainly resembled the portraits she had seen of the famous queen. However, it was widely held that Eleta was even more alluring than her predecessor, because Eleta's eyes were an even more intense shade of reddish brown, and they usually shone with good humor.

Eleta felt no humor at the moment. She felt only the burden of inescapable responsibility and the inevitability of her fate. Eleta had been taught her whole life that she had only one all-important purpose...to fulfill the prophecy and save her country. Her education had focused not only on history, languages, science and literature. Some of her lessons had been in hand-to-hand combat techniques, self defense, and strategy, because no one was certain exactly what her mission would entail. If the wolf or one of his guards did not fall in with her plans, she would need to defend herself. As a result, she had been taught multiple ways to throw off an attacker, and she could slit his throat or knock him unconscious in the blink of an eye.

However, the most important part of her education had been the extensive and very detailed lessons on how to seduce the wolf and, using pleasures of the flesh, manipulate him into carrying out her will. That was, after all, the crux of what she would need to do in order to fulfill the prophecy. Her tutors taught her to master the skills usually exhibited by only the most talented courtesans or skilled concubines. She would have only one chance to capture the wolf and lure him into her bed. She would need every possible advantage to succeed against all the other women vying for his affections.

Her lessons had begun at the tender age of twelve with books and drawings. She remembered feeling mortified as her male instructors reviewed countless diagrams and illustrations of both male and female genitalia. Her tutors would not tolerate her modesty or natural shyness. They forced her to overcome those feelings, because it was essential that she appear confident and sexually experienced if she were going to appeal to the wolf. When she was sixteen, her tutors began smuggling her into brothels, where she watched secretly from behind hidden panels as others engaged in all manner of sexual intercourse. Props and toys had been used to demonstrate how to use her mouth and hands to bring a man pleasure. Even now, the memory of performing fellatio on a leather phallus in front of a room full of tutors intent on critiquing her technique caused Eleta to inwardly cringe. However, she had tolerated every humiliation for the good of her country and to ensure the success of her mission.

Because the prophecy decreed that the wolf would take her maidenhead, Eleta's virginity had been carefully guarded, but all of her other girlish notions had been methodically destroyed. Her maidenly shyness had been replaced by confidence. Her innocence had been replaced by extensive knowledge related to everything carnal. Unlike other young ladies, she had been encouraged to practice wanton behavior in order to learn how to seduce and entice. Every opportunity was sought for her to flirt with men, so she would have the self assurance needed to appeal to the wolf.

Over the years, Eleta received frequent reports from her informants about the wolf's habits, preferences, and patterns concerning women. It was crucial that she know how to capture his interest. She would not be alone in her efforts to seduce him. Women literally threw themselves at him, and more often than not, it was reported that he rebuffed their advances. He was highly selective in choosing his bedmates, and he had become even more discerning over the past year or more. It was rumored that he rarely favored the same lady with his attentions for more than one night, and he never dallied with virgins.

In light of his preferences, it was crucial for Eleta to give the appearance of a much more experienced woman if she were going to successfully draw him into her trap. She could not exhibit any maidenly shyness or inhibitions. She had to appear bold and wanton, like the other women who sought the wolf's favor, in order to lure him from his lair. If he suspected that she was a virgin, he would not take the bait. She had only one chance to fool him, and it was critical that she not show any misgivings when faced with the lustful attentions of an experienced rake. An ill timed gasp or maidenly blush could result in utter failure.

In order to overcome her own natural modesty, Eleta practiced various new techniques to tempt and entice the male attendants around her palace. She set out to see if she could beguile an unsuspecting footman or entice an elderly clerk. On her first few attempts, she blushed with mortification and had to abort the exercise. However with practice, she learned how to inflame a man's lust with a simple touch and how a single glance could steal a man's breath. She practiced these skills until they became second nature, and she learned to control her blushes. She never realized how many men's hopes were dashed as she practiced her lessons.