Author's Note: This is an explicit fic. I couldn't find anywhere to host it but here, so if you're offended by sexuality please, for the sake of both of us, don't read. Also, if you're looking for a happy, fluffy fic, I'm afraid this one won't fit the bill. This chapter is Not A Nice Chapter, and contains that brutal mixture of observation, imitation, and domination that, to me, characterizes Meryem.

Thank you for reading these disclaimers! Sorry to have to put them here, and sorry they're so strongly worded. I just want everyone to know what they're getting into, and I'd hate to disturb readers unnecessarily.

The impression Komugi had of her new residence was of space—cold, empty space, as vast and calm as the fields she knew as a child, a secret and sensitive place where wind cooled against her cheek, making her skin prickle, and a sense of limitlessness took over. As she sat cross-legged in front of a demon she saw only as a man, Komugi couldn't overcome the feeling of cold, even with her own warmth—to shift a bit on the cushion, she'd found, was to freeze uncomfortably. Except for the king, the other inhabitants were, to Komugi, staccato bursts of noise, painful and trying on the eardrums for all their attempted silence.

"I wish to know of a human's body," the king declared immovably over the game of gungi he'd been steadily losing, startling Komugi into blushing furiously and smiling as she closed her sightless eyes. "The human Bizeff has shown me the breeding methods of humans." He paused. "It is quite disgusting, but I will try it with you." He did not wish to reveal, as he'd watched the human woman's humiliation, how Komugi had come continuously to his mind. He had found the human woman's pants and pained cries repulsive, but could not deny that a similar, imagined cry of Komugi's stirred him in ways he had never before imagined, could not believe. It sent Shaiapouf, watching from the shadows, into a paroxysm of despair; it was difficult for him to stop himself from whipping out his instrument.

Not knowing what to say, Komugi simply finished the game of gungi in a single move. Stating her triumph in a quivering voice, she added, "The—this thing you're speaking of, your majesty—it is not usually done with a girl like me." Her lashes fluttered, wishing to blink, delicate muscles twitching in front of the reverent eye of the king.

He examined the board, stroking his chin, and asked, "Why? I am unfamiliar with your human customs, but I have read nothing that would explain your undesirability."

Komugi was blushing deeply, her hands tracing the smooth wooden edge of the gungi board to soothe herself. When she did speak, her voice was soft and weak. "Usually, girls that people like are tall and pretty. I don't know what pretty looks like," she sighed, her voice quelling further, "but from the teasing of the other children in my village, I assume I'm not—" She blinked, unexpectedly sad. "—Not fit for your majesty."

"Taller women are more fertile?" the king asked, attempting to clarify Komugi's sentiments, also unable to define the word pretty.

"Ah—no." She blushed again, her whole face red. "At least, I don't think so."

"Then for what reason are you undesirable?"

Now her whole face was scarlet enough that the fruit the humans tended and ate jumped to the king's mind, round and red—apples.

"Uh—um—" For Komugi, trying to grasp the reason for her unattractiveness was like trying to hold air in your hand—impossible to feel or explain, but irrepressibly there at all hours of the day and night.

Impatient, the king announced, "I do not find you lacking. We will attempt your species' procreation."

Komugi gaped foolishly. "But, your majesty—!"

The king turned tempestuous, Komugi shivering against her will at the drop in his voice. "Do you defy me?"

Hearing Shaiapouf stirring on the edges of her consciousness, Komugi's jaw snapped shut, driven to distraction not out of fear for her safety, but out of fear for her modesty. "But your majesty, it is embarrassing, and one usually does this alone, and on a bed, but even so I am not worthy of—!"

"Shaiapouf, prepare a bed, and then remove yourself."

"Instantly, my lord," the sweet-smelling man sniffled, full of high emotion. Komugi startled as his sound retreated instantly, serenaded by the first fleeting chords of a violin.

Komugi was surprised by the weight of a hand, placed thoughtlessly on her head. "Why do you shake? What frightens you?" he asked, and Komugi blushed even harder.

"It's, it's not—I'm not worthy—and, it's embarrassing, I've never done it before, and…"

"There was a book of this library which discussed this phenomenon," the king murmured to himself. "Human women are often frightened the first time they procreate."

It was the worst conclusion the king could reach. The act of healthy sex is dependent on a certain mutuality that Komugi and the king could never share. Worse, though he had understood the nuances perfectly, one subtle distinction of what he had seen Bizeff do escaped him—a human girl did not wish to be treated the way Bizeff treated the girls he kidnapped. What he had seen was a rape, a different act entirely from the one he wished to perform.

The bed was brought, Shaiapouf was dismissed (still despairingly bowing his violin), and Komugi trembled as she was lifted onto the clean, sumptuous covers. Her entire body flushed as the king effortlessly tore her dress in half, revealing pale white breasts that fascinated him. He grabbed them, ignorant of her whimper of pain, and tried to reconcile the diagrams of human medical books he had read, the large, bouncing breasts he had seen when he asked Bizeff how humans bred, and these small, soft, enticing things.

"You humans are mammals," he intoned. "You feed your young with these, am I correct?"

"Yes, your majesty," Komugi whispered.

She lay back against the sleek covers, comforting herself against them, though she was quivering and unable to speak. Hands too rough and hard to be human scraped against her body, prodding, bruising and lifting, too unfamiliar to be soothing and arousing. She yelped and leapt back as the hands found an intimate and sensitive place.

"Why do you flinch?" the king demanded. To show his mastery over her and himself, he stroked her again, harder. This time, she balked from him in pain. His calloused and inexperienced hands were rough and mean against her delicate labia.

"Please, that hurts." The king looked up into the tears in her eyes, the way her nose dribbled, confused, and refusing to show it. Bizeff's woman had not complained of the pain, despite the noises she'd made. The king recognized that he had done something in error, but could not conceive what it could be.

Komugi was horrified at how her body shook, how her nose leaked, how she whimpered, and most of all, how the man she had previously found so accessible, and even kind, was now remote and terrifying as a malevolent God. In that moment, Komugi understood him as all the other humans unfortunate enough to come in contact with him did, and though she tried to keep it open, one door in her heart swung closed. "I will research more of your procreation," he said simply, standing away from her shivering, pitiful form on the bed, his monotone voice concealing tenderness. "I desire a child of you."

She didn't break out into childish sobs until she was led back to her rooms and left alone.