William studied Brianna as she stood before him, wringing her hands, looking uncomfortable. Out of his four daughters, Brianna, at sixteen-years old was the one who resembled him the most. Unlike her sisters who bore a striking resemblance to their mother with their pale blonde hair and brown eyes, Brianna had his dark brown hair and clear blue eyes. While Brianna was tall, her sisters were petite.
“Speak up, child!”
Startled, Brianna stopped fidgeting and stammered, “I- Father, may I visit the Earth realm tomorrow with my sisters?”
He plucked a piece of strong cheese this time. “No.”
Brianna fisted her hands and William was briefly amused by her show of temper. “Why not? Mother said . . .”
In a heartbeat, William was up and moving; faster than an inhaled breath, he swung his hand and slapped his daughter across the face. She went flying, dropped to the floor and finally skidded to a stop several feet further.
She immediately tried to get to her knees while gently touching her face to make sure she hadn’t lost any teeth or broken any bones. She was whimpering softly as she trembled, unable to bear her weight on her bruised knees.
He stalked over to her, flipped her around with a powerful kick to her abdomen, then knelt beside her, making sure to breathe his olive-filled breath on her. “I do not need to justify myself to you, child. I said no, end of story.” He enunciated the words with exaggerated care to make himself perfectly understood. “Your mother has no say where you and your sisters are concerned; I am King and what I say goes.”
He rose to his full formidable height and sneered at Brianna. “Now go before I decide to teach you another lesson in manners. And tell your mother I will deal with her later.”
He saw the look of raw fear in her eyes as she ran out as fast as she could. He chuckled. He knew she would not disobey him and go to Earth with her sisters; she would be too afraid of the consequences brought on to her precious mother.
William’s lips curled in disgust. As King of Nydonia, the magic realm, he had been forced to marry. For decades, he had been able to placate his people by telling them that he did not want an arranged marriage, that his heart hoped for love, for true love. It was all nonsense, of course, but his people didn’t know that. They had thought it incredibly romantic to have their King out, searching for his one true love. Actually, he’d been sowing his royal oats. His ruse had worked but eventually, his people grew tired of waiting.
Not so gently, they had reminded him of the royal decree that stated that the King must marry to continue his lineage, to assure his people that once he died there would be another King. Only, William didn’t plan on ever dying or relinquishing power to his throne. He had worked too hard to get it, had used up his own sweat and blood in the process.
Luckily for his wife’s bad genes, they had only conceived girls. Snivelling, weak, weepy pussies with no backbone to speak of. Then again, if they had ever shown one, he would have made a pleasure of breaking it.