Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the riverbank as I finally set down my brush, flexing my cramped fingers. Two hours of meticulous work had left my shoulders aching, but the mask was complete. I held it up to catch the golden light filtering through the canopy above – every line precisely carved, every detail painted with care. The smooth wood felt warm against my palms as I lifted it to my face and leaned forward to study my reflection in the crystal-clear water below.

The transformation was perfect. The painted features obscured my own completely, creating an entirely new face that would serve me well in the capital. I couldn't help but smile at my handiwork before carefully removing the mask and tucking it into my leather satchel.

Exhaustion finally caught up with me as I stretched out on the sun-warmed rock, my arms still throbbing from the detailed work. I closed my eyes and let the gentle sound of flowing water wash over me, thinking about how different this world was from the one I'd left behind. The sky here was impossibly clear – a brilliant blue that seemed to stretch on forever without a single wisp of pollution to mar its perfection.

Back in America, I'd grown so accustomed to the smog and haze that blanketed every city that I'd forgotten what truly clean air tasted like. Here, each breath felt crisp and pure, filling my lungs completely. Of course, I doubted the capital of Erestia would be much better than any American city – all those people crammed together, the inevitable pollution that came with civilization. But at least there would be opportunities there, chances to make something of myself that simply didn't exist in a quiet village like Millbrook.

"Harold."

I opened my eyes and turned to see Lisa standing at the edge of the clearing.

"You found me?" I asked, pushing myself up to a sitting position on the rock.

"I knew you would be here when you have free time. You always come to this spot when you need to think."

As expected Lisa knew my habits better than anyone.

"Shouldn't you be hunting with Riley?" I asked.

It was well past the usual time for their hunting sessions – something Lisa had never missed in all the years I'd known her. But I hadn't joined them recently, not since that conversation we'd had a week ago.

The decision to skip the hunting sessions hadn't been dramatic – I despised unnecessary drama and the way it consumed energy that could be better spent elsewhere. But I also understood people, understood Lisa in particular. Beneath her composed exterior beat the heart of someone deeply sensitive, someone who felt things more keenly than she ever let show. I knew that my sudden absence from something we'd shared for six years would cut deep, especially given the feelings that had always simmered just beneath the surface between us.

Today marked another session I'd deliberately avoided, but looking at Lisa now, I realized she hadn't gone either. Instead of her practical hunting leathers, she wore a simple tunic dress of soft brown wool – the kind of comfortable clothing she favored on her rare days off.

"I sent Riley with Tom," she replied,. "He's ready to learn from someone else for a while."

I nodded curtly. Riley was indeed skilled enough to hunt with Tom and the other village men, but Lisa's decision to send him away meant she wanted to talk. After a week of careful distance between us, she was finally ready to address whatever had been building in the silence.

Lisa stepped closer. "I want to show you something. Can you come with me?"

. This was it – the conversation we'd both been avoiding was finally at hand.

"Alright," I said, sliding down from the rock and gathering my things.

We walked back to the village silently until her house.

I noticed that Zoey wasn't here by the way.

We entered inside, and Lisa led me to her room.

Then she knelt beside her bed and reached underneath. She withdrew a wooden box – old and worn, with intricate carvings along its edges that suggested it had once belonged to someone of means. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the lid, revealing contents that had clearly been precious to someone long ago.

From within the box, Lisa carefully lifted what appeared to be a folded piece of parchment and a small object wrapped in dark cloth. She moved to sit on the edge of her bed, patting the space beside her in invitation. I settled next to her and waited.

With infinite care, Lisa unfolded the parchment, revealing a portrait that took my breath away. The artwork was exquisite – far beyond anything a village artist could have produced. Every line had been rendered with masterful precision, every shadow carefully placed to create a face of stunning beauty. The subject was a woman who looked remarkably like Lisa, but older, with the same dark hair and expressive eyes, the same delicate bone structure. However, where Lisa's features held the strength forged by years of hunting and outdoor life, this woman possessed an ethereal quality, as if she belonged to a world of ballrooms and silk gowns rather than forest paths and practical concerns.

"Your mother?" I asked though I already knew the answer.

Lisa nodded. "She was beautiful, wasn't she?"

In all our years together, Lisa had rarely spoken of her parents beyond the basic facts that everyone in the village knew. Both had died when she was still a child, killed by bandits during what should have been a routine hunting expedition. Or so the story went.

"Harold," Lisa began, her voice so quiet I had to lean closer to hear her properly. "It wasn't bandits who killed my parents."

"What?"

Lisa carefully set the portrait aside and unwrapped the small object from its cloth covering, revealing a ring of obvious quality – gold worked into intricate patterns and set with a deep blue stone that seemed to capture and reflect the afternoon light streaming through her window.

"My mother was nobility," she continued, holding the ring up so the stone caught the light. "From the Kingdom of Laurenia. My father met her during an important trading expedition – he'd been commissioned to deliver rare goods to the royal court, a journey that was supposed to establish him as more than just another village man."

I listened in stunned silence as Lisa painted a picture of her parents I'd never imagined.

"They fell in love," Lisa said, a sad smile crossing her features. "My father said it happened the moment he saw her at a royal feast. She was everything he'd never dared dream of – beautiful, educated, graceful in ways that village life could never teach. And somehow, impossibly, she loved him back."

"So they escaped together?" I guessed.

"They had to. Her family would never have accepted a commoner, no matter how successful his business ventures. They fled Laurenia together, my father abandoning his trading contracts and his dreams of advancement. They thought love would be enough, that they could build a new life somewhere her family's influence couldn't reach."

Lisa's voice grew heavy with old pain. "But they were wrong. Her parents didn't hunt them down because they wanted their daughter back, Harold. They wanted her because she was a practitioner of Black Magic."

Now this was shocking.

Black Magic – I'd read about it extensively in the old books, fascinated by its dark history. Once upon a time, it had been simply another school of magical study, no different from elemental magic or healing arts. But centuries of abuse and corruption had transformed it into something feared and forbidden. Those who practiced it were hunted like the witches of old Earth legends, their very existence considered a threat to the natural order.

"The family tracked them," Lisa continued, her knuckles white as she gripped the ring. "It took them years, but eventually they found my parents' trail. The confrontation happened just outside Millbrook – close enough that my father thought they'd finally found safety."

Her voice broke slightly as she continued the story. "My father fought to protect her, but he was just a hunter with a sword and a knife, not a trained warrior. He died trying to buy her time to escape. My mother made it back to the village, but she was mortally wounded – bleeding from injuries that should have killed her miles from home."

"But she could have been healed," I said, thinking of my own mother's abilities. "The village healers, or even—"

"She refused," Lisa interrupted. "My grandmother tried everything, even begged your mother to help despite the risk. But my mother wouldn't allow it. She said..." Lisa's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "She said that as long as she lived, her family would sense her presence. They would never stop hunting, and eventually they would find this village. Everyone here would suffer for harboring her."

"She chose to die to protect me," Lisa finished, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "To protect all of us. She spent her last hours teaching me everything she could about controlling what she'd passed down to me, then she... let go."

I stared at Lisa as the full implications of her story sank in. "Harold," she whispered, raising her gaze to meet mine. The vulnerability in her eyes was unlike anything I'd ever seen from her until now. "I inherited her power. I can use Black Magic."

Everything suddenly made sense – her reluctance to discuss magical training, her resistance to my suggestions about the capital, the careful way she'd always deflected conversations about her future.

"I'm terrified of it," she continued, her voice breaking. "Every time I feel the power stirring inside me, I remember my mother's warnings about how seductive it can be, how easily it corrupts. I've never dared to truly use it, but I can feel it there, waiting. And I know that if anyone discovered what I am..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence. The fate of Black Magic practitioners was well documented – execution if they were lucky, worse if they weren't.

"This is why you refused to come with me to the capital," I said, finally understanding her rejections.

Lisa nodded miserably. "Without acceptable magic, I'd be useless to you there. I couldn't attend the academy, couldn't support your ambitions. And if anyone ever discovered the truth about what I can do..." She shuddered. "I won't put you at risk, Harold. I can't."

I reached out and took her hands in mine, feeling how they trembled despite her attempts to remain composed. The ring pressed between our palms, warm from her grip and heavy with the weight of family secrets.

"Lisa," I said softly. "Tell me… about your mother's family. Do they know you exist?"

She shook her head. A small, almost fragile movement.

That was good.

"I… I am sorry," she whispered, her eyes cast downward.

"You don't have to be," I replied at once, leaning a little closer. "Thank you for telling me."

Even if I had pressed her into it, it was still no small thing. She had given me a secret so heavy it could crush her if it ever slipped into the wrong hands. To admit she could wield Black Magic—when users of that art were hunted and sold like beasts—took a trust I did not take lightly.

If Aldan, that greedy village chief, ever caught wind of it, he would waste no time. He'd sell her off for a chance to crawl his way back into the nobility's graces. And the other villages? Even with Martha's grandmotherly legacy, I doubted they would lift a hand to stop him.

I breathed out slowly and said, "Now I understand why you refused me before. But, Lisa… you will never be useless in my eyes. Just having you by my side is enough."

"I don't want to feel useless," she said quickly.

"I know," I answered gently. "That's why I ask—when you feel ready to be helpful, will you stand with me?"

Her lips parted, then closed, and finally she nodded. "Of course…I will."

That was enough to make me smile.

"As for your magic… don't worry. I'll make sure no one lays a finger on you, even if you use it openly."

Her eyes widened. "H…Harold?"

I met her gaze steadily. "Once I've climbed high enough—high enough that even a king owes me—I'll have the power to force this world to accept you. And if they still want to hunt you, then let them come. I'll be ready."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she turned away, stammering, "You speak as if it's so easy…"

"It is," I said with a smirk. "Maybe because I've been trapped in this village too long. You haven't seen what I'm truly capable of, not yet. But you will—once I reach the capital and enter the Academy."

I am James Trevills. I've clawed my way up from the streets with nothing, and I'll show them all how I reached the pinnacle of the world in my past life.

Lisa nodded faintly, a smile tugging at her lips despite her nerves.

"Alright," I said, rising to my feet. "Just don't forget me while I'm gone, at the Academy."

I was halfway to turning away when her hand shot out and caught my arm.

I looked down.

She wasn't meeting my eyes. Her face burned red, her breathing uneven.

"I… haven't given you my true gift yet," she whispered.