Magna Bellatrix awoke from dreamless slumber to an unfathomably weary and sore sensation and an exceptionally dark room.

At least, it was dark at first. Only strong enough to move her eyes when her mind returned to her, they adjusted soon enough. When they did she found herself in the direct center of this... massive lair. Inward-curving, cornerless walls of non-euclidean design stood far away, scant portions of it alight with a glowing substance she detected was a luminescent fungus of sorts, ranging from faraway base to ceiling high above. Before that, she realized she was laying upon something warm and soft -- a great bed? Yes, it was a bed... and her form, all of her armor gone from it -- stripped from her and taken, most likely -- was wrapped up in silken purple sheets, covered away from a faint coldness that even her fur would easily ward off, while her crown rested upon a pillow.

It was strange and made no sense to the half-awake mare, whose mind was still redeveloping what it had learned in the hours before she ended up like this. Magna's cheek nuzzled against the pillow it was on, unable to say it didn't feel superbly comfortable...

"Awake at last, my dear?" then came a familiar voice

Magna's head spun to her right as soon as she processed the sound, ignoring the sleepy soreness that told her not to turn her body so recklessly. There... there she saw him, and recognized who he was right off. The near-spectral figure of that gnarled-horned creature, with fell magics and a body like that of the unholy amalgamation of pony and insect. The creature her fuzzy memory, now flashing before her, told her had bitten her, had rendered her unconscious in their short fight and surely brought her wherever this place was. And he was laying there next to her. He was a good few feet away from her on this massive bed, and he was grinning a foul, also familiar grin of white teeth.

"You... s-s-son of a..." came Magna's semi-guttural growl. She tried pawing a hoof in his direction, but it was slow and came up a few feet short regardless.

"Easy now, easy," beseeched the creature, before he sniggered. His otherworldly eyes became alight with a look of simple humor. "You just woke up. You've yet to get out on the wrong side of the bed, so I don't think that gives you the right to act like this until then, heh."

The entity's childish jest was a pebble thrown against Magna's cranium. I'll show you the wrong side of the bed, you stupid, pretentious... A dull, but rising fury filled the pony. She tried moving her limbs to lift herself up, their joints crackling as animation took them. Alas, she felt far too groggy still to pounce upon him and beat that smarmy tone (and his smug expression, for that matter) to a bloody paste. Unable to even get up yet, the most she could come up with was a low, drowsy croak of "Fffffuck you."

He smirked, part of his lip peeling back to show his sharp teeth. "I would like to think that we'll be getting to that shortly, my queen."

"Stop... calling me that. Stop it with those names, with that... taunting..." Magna murmured, her tone far grumpier in its pitch than hateful as she was going for.

The creature blinked. His head tilted into the pillow, a brow lowering into a confused mien. "Why? Does it offend you?"

The mare's nose wrinkled. "You know why, you... you..."

"Changeling," he quickly finished for her. "I am a changeling; the first, and as of this moment, last to live in this old world. And my name is Mávros Vasiliás."

"The... ffffuck's a changeling?" Magna shook her head and lifted it from where it lay. Using a hoof, she was able to prop herself up a small ways.

"Many things, both in a figurative and somewhat literal sense," Mávros Vasiliás smiled, almost like he was admiring some sort of queer beauty in her stubborn fury, even in its current, dulled form. "Ever since the earth spat me out and gave me life, I have lived alone in this land, waiting for so many hundreds of years that I've nearly lost count. I was waiting all that time for you, you know."

"For... me?" Misunderstanding now joined Magna's expression of hostility. Sluggish as her motions were, she was now sitting up fully, while the so-called changeling remained reclined. "Why?"

"Because," he said so softly, "it is a fate I choose to enact. The story behind my reasoning is long, I must admit, going as far back as my first memory. You may not wish hear it in its entirety..."

Magna stayed her rage just long enough to make full sense of his words. With the knowledge of her body still recovering, a cunning thought about stalling him with his life story until that moment came to her in one deft second, and more than a little help from her blooming curiosity, Magna spoke, though not to insult him. "I'd think that I would be here for a while, given where I am and what you've done to me..."

So from where he lay, Mávros told Magna a story. He told her in vivid detail of how his first memory was waking up in the middle of these wastes as a frail, young creature, in front of a haggard old tree of gnarled black bark that he had apparently emerged from. He learned on his own how to survive, and considered the tree not simply to be a shelter of his, but his parent, in spite of its inanimate qualities.

But that didn't last, it seemed. The tree soon died. His tone gaining a noticeably sullen texture to its pitch, Mávros told Magna next of how he was left alone under its withered husk, capable but still learning of the world's intricacies around him. And then he made mention of the monstrous, towering predators that inhabited the land during that dark time...

No sooner had he left on that macabre note, Mávros snapped back to his merry mien as his tale came to what the mare sensed was its conclusion. "So, surrounded by foes and trapped in the center of this barren land, I chose to wait. I chose to patiently wait until a day would come when one with a spirit of rare and exquisite worth come into this world, that I might bring them here to live alongside me. As the years slowly drifted by, I trained myself in the magics I found that was birthed with, to make that dream a reality. With this power of my own learning honed, I finally fought off those that would see me devoured, and constructed this great testament to my desires and self-born strength, this tower of black rock hoisted from the furthest depths of the earth, to house myself."

He let out a grand laugh of triumph, long and proud. Captivated in a way by all she had heard, Magna blinked and looked to Mávros. Her body and stamina was feeling much better and more refreshed with her mind fully awoken from the minutes that transpired, but she was still not yet willing to move. "Huh. That's... quite a story."

"Story? 'Tis barely a tale at all, compared to your many grand escapades," he complimented, crawling carefully her way a few feet along the bed. "While I brought the fight to mighty beasts merely out of a desire to protect myself and carve out a territory of my own, you actively sought out perilous thrills, be the reasons for doing so selfish or otherwise. For what little time you have lived on this earth compared to me, you have done so much. For that, and more, you are in every single fathomable way a truly beautiful creature in my eyes, Magna Bellatrix. So strong of will, so courageous of mind, so adamant to see all that would threaten you or your dear ones fall beneath your hoof and magic and be crushed to dust..."

Rising slowly and furtively from the changeling's side, a chitinous hoof came up to Magna and softly touched her breast. With one motion, the changeling carefully pushed her back down upon the mattress until her head once more touched the pillow. For what Mávros was so blatantly doing, Magna only allowed him to go through with it. She felt no urge to fight him, not yet. Something about this whole display was full of a queer temptation she could not ignore.

While Magna lay there looking anxiously up to the changeling, Mávros Vasiliás face grew closer to hers. The closer he grew, the more the pony felt a peculiar warmth building in her chest; building and spreading to other parts of her body. She drank deep of his fell eyes, soaked so richly in dark and alien energies. Their pupils were like thin slits, a faraway abyss, waiting for some poor fool to fall into and become forever lost within them.

As Magna saw the allure in his eyes, Mávros could easily see the distrusting host of emotions glimmering in her own. "Please, my beautiful consort, let not worry and fret cloud your mind. You have, after all, seen and done battle with many ungodly horrors without giving way to terror," he implored in a mellow whisper. "You know in your beating heart that I do not seek to harm you. No, what I offer you is a treat... one of unparalleled divinity. And we have so much time to savor it together, you and I..."

He closed the space between them, and their lips met in a soft motion. The moment he moved in to perform the kiss, Magna's rage returned suddenly, as though the spell she was under briefly lost its charm, and it was set to boiling. She tried summing up her rage, to hit him away for deigning to steal away this kiss in so daring and flagrant a move. But no sooner had this anger came about her... Magna paused. What hindered her retaliation was something about this kiss... something in it was perverting her oral senses, touching it in... in all the right places.

It was... sweet. More than sweet, it was... it was... it was...

Oh... oh, the heavenly ambrosia that were his lips. It was like delicious nectar that had never before graced her tongue! Before this creature, this changeling, could take them away and fill the fragrant air once more his abundant and absurd claptrap, Magna's own came over his in full force, craving more of the taste he had given. Her tongue penetrated past his teeth, touching the interior of his mouth as he had just done hers. Mávros Vasiliás' fell eyes lit up for a second, evidently surprised by the move, but quickly returning to their prior state after a moment had passed and indulged himself in this beautiful mare's passion.

"Mmm..." Magna softly moaned to the exotic taste filling her maw. It was a shameless moan, an aroused moan. Two good, long minutes transpired when their kiss finally concluded. Both creatures pulled their heads back, Magna panting as she caught her lost breath and Mávros merely looking upon her, his visage less haughty and instead more intrigued than ever.

"I take it you enjoyed that?" he queried happily, emitting a single chuckle of apparent amusement.

"Enjoyed? What the fuck are you?" asked back Magna in snappy fashion, still in the midst of quelling the fire in her lungs with the room's cold air. "I... I was going to strike you away. But when you kissed me... I don't even know the words to describe it properly."

Mávros uttered one of his long, mirthful hums. In his supple voice, like richest wine, he replied, "That is but a taste of what wonders I will show you, my destined consort. I've told you, I am a changeling. I know not why, but for me, the issue of love, and for that matter, lovemaking, is what I have always felt a natural talent in..."

He held his gaze over her as he spoke, unblinking. The look was solid and statuesque, yet still unvarnished with its lust. It was subtly dripping at the edges, dripping at the brittle cracks with a hidden enthusiasm he sought with deepest desperation to bring out. Covetous as it appeared, it was also full of a strange torment that seemed to be silently eating at him, in the way that Magna felt in the ephemeral moments before their lips met for the first time. Magna saw it now; what he truly wanted more than the supposed destiny he sought to fulfill, more then her body... was her consent.

Magna Bellatrix closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling and exhaling a deep, cool breath. "If... if that hefty boast of yours is indeed true, then..." the warrior-mare's cheeks turned a shade of crimson as red as a rose in bloom. She relaxed her staunch frame, opening her body up for any advance this creature might wish to make, to his immediate and almost startled delight. Yes, she was lowering her defenses, but she was still quite ready if he were to try anything that stirred up even a hint of bitterness in her mouth.

"If what you say is what you mean, if you can prove that you're so 'naturally talented' in pleasing what you suspect it is that has eluded me my whole life, then... I permit you to try," she relented. "I'll humor you. Go ahead and try to... quench my unquenchable desires, as you said before to me that you somehow could."

Twitching excitedly, Mávros' pointed ears heard the invitation well, and thusly did he slither forth to answer it, purring with unkempt glee as he crawled closer to Magna. Careful of even making the smallest mistake that might ruin the moment as soon as it began, he easily set his rightmost foreleg over her chest in a half-embrace, moving part of his chest of ebon chitin against the side of her white fur. Coming back down to Magna instead of forcing her to come to him, he bowed his head and again kissed the lips of the mortal mare who stole away his black heart long before he even met her. She closed her eyes and kissed back, craving what he had to give.

Mávros let his ambitions steadily climb as their lovemaking began to escalate. His hoof shifted errantly around where it was along Magna's side and hip and back, running through the groomed, but coarse fur that covered her entire form. Soon the changeling king's other hoof came to meet it, and he was wholly embracing her. Magna hugged the creature back, unable to help herself in the moment.

It only grew further from there. Not contented to simply feel the exquisite taste of her lips, the Black King started tasting the rest of the mare's form, and soon was he besotted with it. His desire running against the walls of becoming all-out amok and caution slipping steadier and steadier from his grasp, he kissed long, hard and fiercely along Magna's cheek, neck, breast and shoulder in kind. His teeth would occasionally impart upon her a small bite inflicted out of the excruciating passion he felt having her all to his own, not hard enough for even their sharp tips to breach the skin but enough to leave small, temporary spots of red.

Holy fuck. Magna more than felt his mouthparts rove. She felt it, and she cherished it. The warmth within her now lit aflame, she allowed him to continue to do so. Letting him go while he still clung so tensely, as to give him more room to wander, her hooves gripped the silken sheets she lay upon he he now fully lay over her. So tightly in her grasp she held them that she feared they would tear under the duress. She threw her horned head back, her blue mane sprawling out over the pillow in messy fashion.

Nothing in this world felt like this. Nothing had ever come close to sating her endless desire quite like this. Nothing at all. Magna moaned out the changeling king's name on hot breaths, pleading with him to never stop, to continue his actions as they were now, or else resume his ravishing in another way that would satisfy her senses all the same. Almost vacuous was her desperate cry, and only louder did it grow. And more than anything was the alien creature willing to do as his love so vehemently demanded.

The eye of the storm, a thing of brevity but an inevitable event nonetheless, was soon upon the changeling and the pony after a fair amount of time had transpired. When he felt it circle over him like a hungering vulture eyeing a corpse on the ground far below, Mávros stopped this rampant show of affection and stilled his head, his mouth now simply opening. From it came his dexterous tongue, forked and long and red as blood. Moving like a lithe, lively worm along fur and flesh alike, it tasted deep of his beloved quarry, retracting back from whence it came when the desired spot was cleaned and primed and ready for his gift. "Will you become my mate, Magna Bellatrix?" he asked, longing only for a positive response from his beloved. "Will you accept my hoof in marriage as I wish for yours?"

Her mind scarcely returned to reality following the fireworks of pleasure that had burned their white-hot flames about her brain, Magna somehow felt his tongue tasting her with abundant clarity. She shivered with unconstrained want. "Yes."

"Will you become my queen? My queen of changelings? Love me forevermore, as I in turn shall cherish you?"

"Oh, yes!"

Mávros' fangs distended from the roof of his maw, potent venom dripping already from their crooked, needle tips. "Will you be my one, true consort? Will it be you who bears my seed, who bears my young, who will let my kind flourish in this uncaring old world?"

Magna's tone whimpered with purest want, her grip around the changeling firm and unyielding. "Yes!"

The precious consent of his mate secured at long last with that final cry, Mávros Vasiliás struck. His fangs sunk deep into the spot betwixt Magna's muscular neck and broad shoulder, instantly pumping into her bloodstream copious amounts of the venom they bore. Soon her entire body would be filled to brimming with this potent agent he shared, enough to forever intertwine her fate with his. Enough to immediately begin the process of warping her frame into something more appropriate, more worthy of what splendor his lover, queen and consort deserved. Magna gasped as she felt their entry; a brief bout of pain, both agonizing in its sharp delivery, and somehow divine in its texture.

And pleasure, pure, undiluted pleasure, the likes of which no living creature had ever before felt, filled her entire form. And in it, Magna became lost. Hopelessly, blissfully lost in its infinite sea, blithely unaware of where she would end up next. Unaware and unsuspecting, but more than content was she with whom it was who would be leading her there, his hoof in hers, and hers, his...

Author's Note

Mortal kings are ruling castles

Welcome to my world of fun

Liars settle into sockets

Flip the switch and watch them run