The Beast King (Royal Aliens 3)

“Deposing me from my throne, destroying my rule, and bringing dishonor on our family is not a prank, bro. It is an act of war. Exile is the only choice, besides killing the usurper. I chose not to kill you — though you are giving me more than ample reason to regret that decision now.”

“You left before I could say anything… I didn’t get a chance to tell you what had happened. I’ve been following you all across space. Dominax nearly impounded my ship on sight, thanks to your declaration of war there.”

“A missile strike is not a declaration of war. It is a warning of a potential declaration of war. Dominax knows what he did. And so do you, little brother.”

“Speaking of acts of war…”

“What is it?”

“The nobles are threatening to go to war. The peasants are revolting. There is a smell coming from the kitchens, and the cooks refuse to go in there. It’s hard. I don’t like it. I don’t want to be king, Konan.”

Elizabeth couldn’t take it anymore. She had imagined only the most terrible of tyrants could ever have deposed Konan. What she was seeing did not make sense. Not on any world. Not in any reality.

“This is the kid who deposed you?”

“I am eighteen years of age. I am not a kid. I am a…”

“You’re a tadpole,” Elizabeth exclaimed, turning her attention back to Konan. “Why did you let him depose you? You could break him in two.”

“He stole the crown. By the laws of our kingdom, he who wears the crown rules the world.”

“About that too. It’s stuck.” Herk reached up and tried to dislodge the jeweled crown, but it did not budge even an inch. It was a vaguely comical sight seeing him trying to get it off, like watching a cat try to pull its head out of a jar it should never have put its head in.

Konan looked at him with a mixture of distaste and dark satisfaction.

“It is not stuck. It has adhered. Grown into your skull. It will not release its grip until you are dead.”

“What!?”

Konan allowed himself a smile. “Did it not strike you as odd that I never put the crown on, little brother? Just being near that thing is enough. It is an artifact of incredible power. It warps anybody near it.”

“I thought your head was just too big for it.”

“No. The crown of Masih is much like the royal ship. When it chooses its wearer, it confers political power and all the trappings of kingship which you now so enjoy. You would know that, if you had done even the slightest bit of reading, instead of plotting and bribing your way into the royal riches.”

Herk’s face crumpled. “Konan… please…you have to take this from me.”

“There is only one way to get if from you.”

“H… how?”

“I could chop your head off, little brother.”

He almost felt pity for his sibling. Almost. Herk was young, and for that he might be forgiven. He had become the tool of something much greater than himself. Konan could relate to that. But the betrayal could not be forgiven.

“I have my own destiny to pursue. You have a kingdom to rule.”

“Please… Konan.”

Konan hardened his heart. Herk had chosen his destiny, and having chosen, there was nothing that could be done to save him from it. The crown of Masih was arguably the most dangerous headpiece in existence, and he was actually glad to be relieved of it.

“Okay. So. This is stupid,” Elizabeth declared. “There has to be another way to get the crown off without killing him. Have you tried butter, or grease?”

“After all this time, the crown has knitted itself into his skull. It will not release.”

“You haven’t even tried anything and you’re all out of ideas,” she said, accusatorially. “I thought you wanted to be king. I thought you’d had your throne stolen from you by some evil force. But it’s just your dumbass kid brother.”

He grabbed her and whipped his palm across her impudent human ass. He was not going to tolerate that attitude from her no matter what the situation. There would always be time to discipline her if she needed it, and right now, she needed it.

“Ow! Ouch! Fuckkk!” She cursed and cried as he grasped her by the chain, which made such a good handle for a smooth, squirmy brat like her, and whipped her bare rear until it was hot pink and she was blushing all over.

This felt good. Spanking the human felt like the biologically, chemically, universally right thing to do. She had gained a great deal of confidence in her time with him. When she’d first been dragged upon his ship, she had taken refuge in her scribblings. She’d tried to hide herself from him. Now nothing was hidden, not her thoughts, not her attitude, not her bright red ass with the pretty slit between her thighs, peeking out every time she tried to kick and squirm away from his punishing palm.