My Kingdom for a Kiss
Author: Kantayra
Disclaimer: I don't own Spike, Illyria, or any of the other AtS characters. I'm merely warping them to by strange, smutty purposes in some vain effort of comfort now that the show's over. *sniff, sniff*
Summary: Fourteen years ago, Illyria and her army rose and conquered the world. Now, with her victory seemingly complete, her attentions turn to her pet in an effort to alleviate her growing desire for the half-breed. But, as her feelings continue to grow, she finds herself torn between her duties as goddess and her heart. Especially since Spike himself is chief among those who wish to dispose of her Kingdom... Spike/Illyria. *WIP, begun June 2004* NC17
Author's Note: OK, this story is...weird. The basic premise is that Illyria's army was still there when she visited her temple in 'Shells'. She took over the world, captured Spike as her pet, and killed pretty much everyone else. Oh, and instead of Wes killing Knox, Knox killed Wesley. So Knox is still around. Also, Illyria never lost her temporal powers in 'Time Bomb' because of events that I'll reveal as the story goes on. And Spike gratuitously lost his soul for no other reason than I don't like his soul. ~_^
Oodles of thanks to Marishna and Kallysten who answered bizarre questions of mine and provided random details for this story, even though they had no clue what I was talking about at the time. ~_^
This story takes place fourteen years after 'Shells' when Illyria's Kingdom is pretty much established and the human resistance has all been wiped out. And, yeah. See? I told you it was an odd premise. ~_^ Many largely-irrelevant bizarre terms will follow, most of which are 'vaalian' (the race of Illyria's army) words for various offices in Illyria's High Court. Except, of course, I had to make them up because all the terms associated with Illyria in the show sound like Egyptian and Sumerian had a bastard baby whose name was written down by a Klingon. Ah, I love sci-fi... ~_^ So, er, yeah. Hopefully, it'll become comprehensible as the story goes on. And, yes, we'll get more of the back history over time. I'm just strange for wanting to make this big time jump. Go figure. Enjoy...

Chapter One - Fair, My Concubine

"The gateway to the Marendon Kingdom appears to be closed for now," General Xaneth announced solemnly. "However, I don't trust Kirazi to hold back for long. He wants this Kingdom."

Illyria cast him a sideways glance as they walked side-by-side through the great halls of Palace Illea. Patterned floors of burgundy and white marble sounded with the echoes of powerful footsteps as the Queen and her two top advisors made their way back from the temple of Vahla Ha'nesh. Above them, great pillars and arches rose well over one hundred feet to form the tapestry of architectural splendor so indicative of Illyria's Old Kingdom. Once, her body would've been nearly as tall as the corridor. But, despite her recent diminutive size, she still had divine purpose in her steps.

"Kirazi fears my might," she commented matter-of-factly. "His warriors weaken under this world's atmosphere, while mine remain strong as ever."

"He could look for allies within this plane," Xaneth retorted.

Illyria considered that for a moment. "You suspect the half-breeds? I have given them most generous hunting lands. I have made one of their own my Mi'yik. It serves them no advantage to betray me."

"I wasn't," Xaneth clarified with a little scowl, "referring wholly to outside threats."

Illyria's brow quirked at that, but it was the third Court Member present who responded.

"I hardly think any member of the Court would betray Our Lady," Knox countered, craning his neck back to look up into the face of the seven-foot vaalian.

Even after all the years working as Illyria's high priest, he still hadn't accustomed himself to the odd appearance of the ancient army. Pale silver metallic-looking skin, eyeballs uniformly blue so that they looked like lapis marbles, and three-clawed hands just began the catalogue of inhumanity about the soldier race. And, had their original bodies remained intact, rather than necessitating that the vaalians use similar parasitic forms as Illyria had herself, they undoubtedly would have appeared even more alien to his eyes, completely void of all human form.

Knox considered it somewhat odd that, while he'd been the one to guide Illyria to her army and raise it to victory over the humans' champions, he sometimes regretted no longer being surrounded by his own kind. Few humans aside from himself had seen the True Light and worshipped Illyria as the divinity come to earth to save them from mortal chaos. He was the only human member of the High Court, and he could name each human in the palace staff from memory. Strange, the things one missed, even when the world had finally been brought into perfect harmony…

"Not all members of the Court are here willingly," Xaneth pointed out.

Knox frowned at that, surprised to find that he and the reformist vaalian agreed on anything. "Now might be a good time to cleanse the Court of all non-believers," he provided hopefully.

Illyria came to an abrupt stop at that. "Your opinion on this matter has been noted in the past," she said coldly. "My choice of Mi'yik is not open to debate."

Knox hastily raised his hands in apology. "Just a suggestion," he insisted with a wry laugh.

"You will make no further 'suggestions'," Illyria informed him curtly before heading off down the hallway once more, definite purpose in her stride.

"It's just..." Knox began hesitantly. "May I speak freely?"

Illyria sighed. "If you must," she conceded reluctantly, turning down the final corridor.

Knox winced when he realized where she was heading. "He's dangerous to keep around," he insisted. "He's made it more than clear every day for the past fourteen years that he'll kill you and overthrow the New Kingdom the first chance he gets."

"He will be given no chance," Illyria insisted stubbornly.

Knox let out a frustrated exclamation, hands running through his unruly curls as he tried to summon patience once more. "I just don't see why you insist on keeping that half-breed as a pet!" he finally said in exasperation.

"He amuses me." Illyria came to a halt before the massive marble door at the end of the hallway. Cut into the sheer white stone were a series of deep midnight glyphs. A writing so old, humans had not even dreamed of its existence. Until her resurrected army returned to this dimension and reestablished it, that is.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's a load of laughs," Knox replied skeptically. "But we're in a precarious position here. The Imperial Church isn't catching on with the humans - let alone the half-breeds - and your own Mi'yik mocking your divinity isn't helping matters."

"The Church is secondary to my dominion," Illyria insisted. "I will not sacrifice my pet to ease your office."

Knox frowned. "But-"

"The matter is closed for discussion." Blue fingernails tapped out a pattern in the glyphs, and slowly the magical bindings that locked the door moved. Like silver-spun snakes wound together, they slithered apart, allowing her access to the room beyond. She caressed the ancient metal absentmindedly, noting the sensation. She always wore her body armor outside the palace, but within she allowed the light burgundy robes of the goddess of Vahla Ha'nesh. The greatest advantage of the lighter wardrobe was this ability to savor more sensations.

Knox bit back the snide remark at the tip of his tongue. Fourteen years of invaluable service, and I get blown off for one of the damn vampires that tried to stop her ascension in the first place. Where's the respect? When do I get my repayment for my eternal devotion? Well, aside from the whole forever-young immortality bit…

"Leave me now," Illyria instructed him, inclining her head to indicate that Xaneth was subject to this command as well. "I will see my pet alone."

Xaneth pressed his palms together in the vaalian equivalent to a salute and turned off down the corridor. Knox, more reluctantly, nodded and sulked away.

Illyria sighed as she watched them go. She didn't recall ruling being so tiring during her Old Kingdom. Perhaps it was the complex chaos created by the human, vaalian, and vampire factions. Or maybe her human shell just felt the weariness more intensely. Despite the spells Knox had cast upon her after her rebirth, she was still not at her full majesty. At least her Qwa'ha Xahn's efforts had kept her from losing her powers, however. She shuddered to imagine what could've happened had this shell's limited form banished the true extent of her being. A divinity trapped in a meager human form… Terrifying.

The massive white door opened at her final approach, and she spared one small moment of lament for the fact that her body had not survived in the pocket dimension of Vahla Ha'nesh as her army had. Oh, the vaalians had tried to preserve her old shell, but millennia of hardship had forced her army to choose between survival and preservation of her statue. Given the options, Illyria preferred the choice they had made.

"So nice of you to knock," a sarcastic voice greeted her.

A small smile twitched at the corners of her lips as she caught sight of her pet. He had, apparently, just come out of the shower and wore nothing but the white towel about his waist, his skin and hair still damp from the hot water. Perhaps my change of form was a blessing in disguise…

"I do not knock," she informed him imperiously.

"No really?" Spike retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Hadn't noticed, what with you bargin' in here at all god-awful hours of the day." He made an expansive gesture to the room around them.

As tall and airy as the corridor, his prison was made of the same fine white stone that composed the rest of the palace. His furnishings seemed small and out of place where they were positioned in the direct center of the expansive room. A circular carpet of a deep navy blue a little over twenty-feet in diameter was ringed by two dressers, a desk, several trunks, and - rather incongruously with the ancient décor - a large television set. The large, four-poster bed took up the center of the carpet, fitted with sheets a rich crimson color. All in all, the furnishings took up scarcely a tenth of the floor space. Around it, vast white-tiled expanse stretched out to form an oval room approximately eighty-feet wide.

Frankly, all the empty space made Spike edgy so, aside from his trips to the adjoining bathroom, he never left the little nest of humanity he'd set up for himself at the center. Turning pointedly away from his 'visitor', he approached one of the dressers to find something to wear. If he didn't get dressed and fast, Her Conceited Holiness was liable to drag him off to some torture or other stark naked.

Illyria watched him as he tossed the towel onto the dresser top, her head cocked curiously to one side as she observed the unusual phenomenon within her. It had begun years ago, although not even she had been aware of it. At first, she had just thought it another game to play with her pet, strip him down and expose him. Watch the irritation shake through his body and amuse herself with her complete dominion over him.

More recently, she'd discovered it was something more, however. Perhaps the revelation had come three months prior when, on a whim, she'd slipped through the fabric of existence to watch him play with that evening's dinner. Unseen, she had watched him and his meal. The human girl had been frightened at first, but he had calmed her, apologized even. Illyria had just determined that the entire proceedings would, in fact, be quite dull when the mortal girl had chosen to press her lips to those of Illyria's Mi'yik.

For some reason, that contact had fascinated her. She'd watched, entranced, as the two lower beings slowly drew closer. Clothing had fallen from their bodies, and for the first time she'd seen the poetry in this human form. She'd approached the bed, stood at the headboard as the couple tangled together on the sheets and copulated.

The rhythmic flexing of muscles, both hard and soft, as her pet had pumped himself within the human woman's body. She'd leaned in close, watched as his masculine appendage entered and exited the other's womb. She'd observed his face as it twisted with pleasure, saw him go slack and fall.

He'd bitten the human, then, drained her when she was so overcome with bliss that she couldn't feel the pain. Yet another little way he'd found to defy Illyria. Not even his willpower had been enough to fight the hunger - at least, after she'd removed the metaphysical implant that had been inserted into his psyche - but he'd never once given her the brutal blood-sport she'd hoped for from him when she'd first made him her pet.

But, instead of anger, she'd felt…intrigued. She'd seen the union of the two mortal bodies, knew that it was no more than meat and slime, and yet she'd found herself desirous, perhaps even envious of the human.

It was perverse and disgusting, she knew, but she'd become used to the disgust over the years. In her Old Kingdom, she'd kept a harem of concubines to satiate her body's unfortunate lusts. The urge hadn't abated now that she was reborn. In fact, this human form seemed to require more sensual pleasure. And, trapped in this shell, she'd had no choice but to take concubines of similar form. It had repulsed her at first. Her old form had been so much…neater. But, now, it was merely a necessary evil.

Desire was a weakness; it was best to remove it as swiftly as possible.

She hadn't attended her pet for quite some time after that first incident, and instead turned to her harem to slake her lust. Yet, when she'd rested, her desires had grown anew, and always that impudent expression her pet wore flashed into her mind.

Eventually, she'd been forced to face the inevitable. She wanted to fornicate with him and, for some strange reason, with him alone. Some human instincts that remained within her body puzzled her, but none more so than this one. But she'd learned that her power increased when she moved with the flow of these instincts, rather than struggled against them.

So she'd watched him and encouraged him to take lovers so she could witness his coupling. Subtly, of course, since she'd long since learned that the surest way to find rebellion within him was to place dictates upon him. Insolent, stubborn creature…

"Earth to the Planet Krypton," his snide remark cut off her speculations which, in truth, had only taken but a few of his seconds. "You just addin' to the ambience, or was there something 'd probably rather not know about?"

Illyria looked at him, standing defiantly by the dresser, a pair of those black jeans he insisted upon wearing in one hand. And, for the first time, she let herself truly think the word that had been skating around the edge of her consciousness for so long: Beautiful…

And, like all beauty, transitory. Before he could cover himself with the mediocre garment, she raised one hand, froze him in place. Quite lovely, in his alien way, she decided, approaching with steps a bit quicker than usual.

The two of them had engaged in combat often enough over the fourteen years he'd been held prisoner to her Court, and he'd adapted frighteningly quickly. Slowing the temporal matrix around him was still the most effective technique against him, but he'd developed the ability to see through the illusion over the years. Which, really, was all time ever had been. A mental shift once he realized that she'd tried to freeze him, and she'd been met with many an unsuspecting surprise.

It did often take quite a pause for him to realize she'd slowed time, however. It gave her a few moments to explore…

One delicate hand - still fascinating to her, even though she'd occupied this shell for years - slowly rose to trace the angle of his cheek. She'd felt his skin before, she was sure, but she'd never bothered to take notice. He was cool, cooler than her own flesh which, she knew, was still cooler than it had been when the human had lived in this body. Yet, despite his coolness, a tingle seemed to run down her fingers. The beginning of that strange phenomenon that occurred whenever she was near him for long.

She abandoned his cheek for his chest, studied his smooth muscular curves with her fingertips. She'd become a fair judge of human standards of beauty over the last decade and a half, and she knew him to be an exemplary specimen. But knowledge of that fact should not be causing her body to heat up, making her desire to touch more…

She circled him, hands trailing over his body as she did so. His back was harder, but the skin was still amazingly soft. Smooth and pale. He matched her palace, she realized. White and perfect. Her hands moved lower, cupped the slight swell of his behind, before slowly moving forward once more. She pressed her body against his back, smelled the soft soapy scent of his skin - one of the few smells in this new human world that was palatable to her. The half-breed scent was far from vile in comparison to human. And he, in particular, smelled really quite lovely. This shell was obviously slowly altering her perceptions of the world, she knew, but it was necessary for her to rule in this new age, and she accepted it.

This will suffice quite nicely, she thought, fingertips trailing down the sharp lines of his hipbone now, moving ever downward…

"Bloody hell!" With a sharp jolt to the side, Spike suddenly snapped back into motion, catching himself on the dresser as he stumbled away from her. Angry blue eyes narrowed to slits and flashed gold as he turned to look at her again. "This your latest game?" he growled, hastily jerking on his jeans.

Illyria felt a brief pang of disappointment, but she didn't dwell on it. Mortals had regrets; she was Illyria, and anything she desired was hers for the taking.

"No game," she informed him, head cocked to one side as she watched him finish dressing. "I will touch you whenever I please."

"Addin' molestation to your party list now?" he retorted snidely, shrugging on his duster. One of the few original possessions he had from…before.

"I promote you," she corrected.

He looked at her skeptically. "From what? Trained puppy to cabana boy?"

Illyria frowned, not following his references. It didn't matter, however. "You are now my En U'Eliq," she stated. "Your services as Mi'yik have ended."

Spike blinked at her slowly. "You're…" He shook his head, unable to believe his ears. "What?" he finally exclaimed in disbelief.

"You are En U'Eliq," she repeated. "You will serve me."

He snorted in distaste. "Won't do a damn bloody thing you tell me to, bluet," he hissed, turning his back on her and stalking away.

She frowned. She had an unfortunate tendency to forget that direct orders often had the exact opposite effect on him. It was not a mistake she ever made except within his presence. His form was…distracting. Infuriating, to be true, and often to the point where she abandoned rationality for violence. But this new desire she felt for him had just exacerbated the problem.

"You should be honored," she insisted. "All others would sacrifice their lives for what you are being given freely."

"In case you hadn't noticed, 'm not 'all others'," he countered sullenly. "And what on earth makes to think that after watchin' you slaughter everything 've ever cared about that I'd ever want anything from you?" He stalked off to the only escape he could find, that of his balcony.

The structure was white like the rest of the palace, the rails carved in the pattern of twined vines. They didn't look like anything alive, though. To him, they always appeared to be cold bones, bent and warped in a gross parody of elegance. But given that he was, he would estimate, about ninety stories up and his door was always kept locked by magics far beyond him, he didn't have any other place to go.

Illyria, never one to accept that the world didn't bend backward to her wishes, followed after him. "My word is final," she said sternly. Now that he'd turned contrary, persistence was the only hope she had of getting him to comply. After all, it had eventually worked when she'd forced him to feed off of her prisoners of war as any proper pet would've done gladly in service to his mistress.

He snorted derisively, looking out into the distance and the massive alien city she'd built in the place of the Los Angeles he'd once known. The sun shone down on him, but even that had changed after her big war with Wolf, Ram, and Heart. The vampires had turned against the former law-firm in a surprise move, and she'd rewarded her newest allies by granting them the day. Apparently, shifting the old sun into another dimension and swiping this sun for earth was child's play to her mages.

There was a very good reason the white hats had been crushed to dust at her feet. And, lucky him, got to watch it all, too insistent that he could still make a difference to ever kill himself. Even after all this time, when all hope had long left him. He still didn't believe Illyria was forever, but he conceded there wasn't a damn thing he could do, locked up in here like some helpless damsel.

She stood beside him, blue-and-brown hair blowing in the wind, studying his face intently. "I have given you the day. You enjoy that. You shall enjoy this, as well."

He frowned, still looking off into the distance so that he didn't have to see her. "'ve seen how you treat your U'Eliques," he retorted.

"They are mere concubines," she explained, pleased to have found an argument she could win easily. "They serve me and are disposed of. My chief concubine - my consort - would be revered, powerful, a force to be reckoned with."

He turned his head sharply to look at her then. "You know 'll stab you in the back first chance I get. Been waitin' fourteen years to give you yours, bluet. Developed a sudden death-wish, have we?"

"You are my En U'Eliq," she repeated simply, intense blue eyes never leaving his face.

"Givin' me hope that 'll finally have the power to take you out, but 've got to play the part of your prime lay in the meantime?" he inquired.

She assessed his words, finally found the proper meaning behind his colloquialisms. "Accurate."

He grinned and leaned in, and for a moment her body heated up at his nearness. A wave of lust stronger than she'd ever felt before passed through her, and she savored the anticipation of her sweet victory.

He breathed deep against her cheek, taking in her almost non-existent scent and holding it. Tiny visual cues like the darkening of her eyes and the quickened rote rhythm of her breathing were all that told him she was excited, and he found that knowledge most interesting. Know thy enemy…

Her lips parted in something short of a gasp at his nearness, and a moment of almost panic swept through her. She'd thought to satiate her desires with his body. But she would still be Illyria, powerful and always the master. She hadn't anticipated that her reaction would be this strong, that she'd feel her precious control slipping from her, desperate for him…

He smirked slowly, looked up at her from under lowered lashes in a coy manner that she found quite stimulating. He leaned into her once more, and this time she leaned with him, took in a sharp intake of breath as his lips brushed her ear.

"Bugger. That."

He pulled away with a snarl, and an exclamation of pure outrage escaped her lips. Blinded by her anger, she swung out at him wildly. He leapt back gracefully, smiling wickedly at her all the while.

"Y-You dare?" she seethed, coming at him once more with a series of punches and high kicks.

One blow glanced across the side of his face, but it didn't knock him down. Rather, his own fist returned her punch, catching her squarely under the jaw. "You think I would ever touch you?" he retorted coldly.

Illyria's head snapped back, and she took two steps away from him to center herself. "Impudent, vile pet," she hissed, striking out again. This time her heel caught him squarely in the center of the chest, and the blow knocked him through the balcony doors and back inside his room.

He slid across the floor for several feet, before coming to a halt in a huddled mass in the center of the great white expanse.

Illyria's foot came down on his head, pinning him in place before he could get up. "Obey me."

He just chuckled. "A bit harder to rape when you need me excited to get what you want," he shot back. Which, in a sense, was true. He could keep himself from getting aroused if he wanted to. He just hadn't wanted much in the past. But he'd jump off that balcony before he let himself be turned into her cheap whore.

Her hands clenched into fists. "I should crush you where you lie, half-breed."

"Go ahead, then," he countered, unconcerned. "'d rather be in hell with Angelus than here with you."

His words shouldn't have had the power to harm her, yet they did. She had seen the looks of other men - vaalians, humans, and half-breeds - and they had been appreciative of her form. Why, then, should this mortal not want what hundreds of others had desired? Especially when…

She considered it. Perhaps, the key was in his words, after all. "You deny me because I slew your king?" she inquired.

"Let's see," he retorted sarcastically. "Yeah, there's a good reason. Another would be Charlie, Wesley. Fred, of course." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Buffy…"

The last name had never invoked rage in her before. Now, she felt it threaten to boil over within her, and she could not comprehend why. She breathed deeply to fight down the emotions, and spoke calmly once more. "Your Slayer is dead. She cannot share your bed; I can."

"No," he retorted smugly, "it seems you can't."

The urge to grind her heel into his spine and be done with him was almost overwhelming then. But something - perhaps that same indefinable something that had kept her from disposing of him all along - stopped her.

He was a bit surprised and more than a little relieved when she released him. Scrambling to his feet before she could change her mind, he looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You can kill me," he informed her in a low hiss, "but you can never make me fuck you. I'll die first."

"That can be arranged," she countered, but he was already walking away from her, retreating back to the bathroom most likely to tend to his wounds. A part of her wanted to go to him and press her point, but a greater part realized that this would not be so easy as she had hoped. It would take time, persistence… The twisting knot of desire in her belly didn't like that, but she saw no alternative at that moment. "Refuse me or no," she announced in parting, "you are my En U'Eliq."

The door opened before her might, and then she was gone.

And Spike just breathed a long sigh of relief and swore under his breath. He fought back the primal scream of pain that had pushed at his consciousness since he'd first been captured and those he loved lost… But, as always, he was stronger. Better. And he would defeat the agony.

Just as he would defeat the pushy wanna-be goddess who'd suddenly decided she had her knickers in a twist over him.

"Bugger."

Chapter 02