Serj read in the shade of the garden as Lena exercised.

  After every page, he snuck a peek. 

  Glittering sweat trickled down her brown skin as she performed the ninety-fifth crunch, the morning light playing off her abs. Lena grinned as she caught him staring, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Go on, read your book." Ninety-ninth. "Isn't that more important?"

  Just the idea of sharing in her workout routine left him exhausted. Serj knew himself well - well enough to know he was too lazy for that. Most days, even grabbing food and going to the bathroom was too much work. If only someone could flip these pages for me. 

  Lena jumped up to her feet and stretched right in in front of him, sticking out her chest and butt, relaxing her muscular thighs and arms. Teasing him mercilessly came with the routine, of course.

"Why do you torture me like this? Getting a good grasp of metaphysics is hard enough."

  Lena shrugged, all happy and carefree. "Because I can."

  The sky was clear and bright. The breeze carried the sweet scent of wisteria from the neighbor's garden. Serj hadn't seen anything planted in their own garden ever since his mother passed away. Only she cared about such things. 

  Lena leaned into his face, her chest hovering over his open book, her sweat dripping down and striking the weathered pages. The burning heat of her worked up body made its way into the core of his being. "We should exercise together." 

"Like this?"

Her brows arched innocently. "Is there another way?" 

"I can think of some..." 

"I'm not sure those are good for what I'm going for."

"And what are you going for?"

"Why, getting too tired for thinking, uh."

  As irony would have it, staying fit for Lena meant mental peace and clear thinking, while the need to feed on information every day was what kept Serj feeling physically well and confident. But despite his need to know, it was she that was the introspective one, the one that could enjoy the silence by herself, that read plays and wept openly for fictional characters. Serj preferred history and philosophy. There were hard-earned lessons there to be imparted to the living.  

  Though neither of them had any particular skill to offer to the world, nor the money to live in a big way, not to mention the knowledge to do sorcery, it never seemed to matter. They were content with being good-for-nothings, so long as they could do it together, happy with keeping the larger world out of their personal space. What happened outside was irrelevant, while the day-to-day bullshit could catch enormous proportions depending on their mood. 

"I'm going to go take a shower," said Lena. She punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Don't you bother me!" 

  Serj oogled her firm bubble butt as she made her way inside. Now that's what truly matters, he thought, tapping the pages of the philosophical treatise. He could stare at it all day. And perhaps touch it, at some point... Though they spent all their time together and had for nearly a decade, that only made things more difficult to judge.

  It wasn't that the topic never came up - it came up too much, too openly, and too often when they were joking around. So it was hard to say. Did Lena want him in that way as well, or did she not? 

  Nor could he risk it and find out. He wasn't ready to be entirely alone. 

  Not yet anyway. 

  As he got up to get a drink, he heard his father coming home. Kragan pulled up in front of the house and got out with a groan. 

  The two of them couldn't have been more different.

  His father reached a cyclopean stature, towering two heads over both Serj and Lena, his frame too wide to pass through most doors. "Big enough to scare a bear and lift a tank," a person once said of him, and Serj found it accurate. His wild mane and pleated beard, as red as blood, both spilled all the way down to his massive shoulders and broad chest. His vanity kept him from wearing shirts. The only strange thing about him were the colorful stars tattooed on his chest - originally they were on drawings Serj drew of him as a child, but his father somehow thought it wise to get them done in real life.

  Why, Serj couldn't understand, nor remember. He was no longer little.

"What are you doing?" said Kragran, gruff as usual. He always sounded bad-tempered, though he rarely was. He whined, and whined, and whined, but he could also laugh at just about anything. 

"Not much." 

  His father snorted. "More like nothing. Aren't you tired of wasting away like this?"

  Serj sighed deeply. Not this again...

"You're young and healthy. You're smart and handsome. You've got everything going for you. But here you are. Rotting." 

  Rotting did strike a cord. Still: "What else would I be doing?" 

"Working. Finding yourself a nice girl."

"Working. You're the one to talk." His father's work consisted in receiving protection money. Some work. "And I have Lena."

"I said a nice girl."

"You mean like mom?"

  Silence. I thought so.

  This hardly merited another pointless argument. Plus, his father had always loved Lena - the only problem was that he saw her more as a guy. It made sense, since she had always tried to emulate the two of them to a certain extent, without thinking it could threaten her feminity or anything stupid like that. Lena simply did whatever she felt like. 

  To avoid further talk, Serj went over to his room. The same old dusty room, filled with half-read books set face-down in piles where he had left off likely never to continue, with unwashed clothes carpeting the floor. Lena had very few possessions of her own, and the few she did she kept in a small box under the bed.

  She came out of the shower, her wet hair all clumped up, curls of smoke rising from her scorsching body. The crop top hugged her damp skin, following the curves of her round breasts. So much misfortune had befallen him in life, and yet, in moments like these, Serj could not think of himself as anything but the luckiest. Just being in her presence was enough to make everything worthwhile, no matter what. 

  I love you, he wanted to scream at her. 

"What's up?" 

"Dad's home."

"Ahhh, so that's why you're in hiding."

  Serj clicked his tongue. "You make it sound like I'm scared of him."

  Lena toweled her head. "Aren't you?"

"No? Obviously not. He's just annoying as fuck," he snapped. Just the thought of her thinking he was too scared made him furious. "I wish he would just die."

"All right, all right, calm down..."

  But he couldn't calm down. Where did she get the nerve? As soon as someone challenged him on the topic of his father, his blood began to boil. His head hurt. Everyone loved his father, but no one knew him as he did. No one. "He's just such a retard. In every way."

  Lena suppressed a sigh, sounding annoyed. "I guess so. He's hot though."

  What? The words came out of nowhere. Hot?

  A chill went up his spine. How could she say that? And so carelessly. Never had he heard her say anything of the sort.

  She thinks he's hot? 

  The blue eyes came to rest on him. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." 

"What, you're not mad about what I said, are you? I didn't mean it like that."

"Like what?" 

  She sighed and padded over to the bed, her wet feet slapping against the floorboards. She took his fingers in her grip. "Don't be that way. I'm sorry, I was just talking. You know I love you." 

  I love you? She said that. Now, of all times. No, but why? Why now? He wanted to say it back, he fought to say it back, but every part of him rebelled. Why did you have to say that? 

  He could see the expectant look in her eyes, the uncertainty, the unlimited warmth and understanding that came from there. All he had to do was respond. Just say it back. I love you too. That was it.

  But as he stared at the gorgeous dark face he could only think one thing. 

  You called him hot. You called my father hot.

  Which meant that she found him hot. His girlfriend. Friend. Whatever. Him. The man that had ruined his life - driven his mother to suicide. The imbecile that hadn't cracked a book open in his life, that never wondered about anything deeper than what he would eat and when he would eat it.

  That's what you find hot? It was obscene. No, more than that: a betrayal.

  His heart drummed in his skull. His innards were being wrenched in every direction and his back felt like it was moments away from freezing and falling apart. Just fucking say it, he told himself. Say it before it's too late.

  She squeezed his hand, as if in support.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered coldly. 

  Lena's hand dropped away, and with it all her wamth. "Don't guilt me like this. I told you I'm sorry."

"And I told you I forgive you! What do you want from me? Just give me a second."

"Fine. You've got your fucking second."

  She headed out.

  Serj wanted to follow her. 

  Come on, come on... 

  But as soon as he overheard her talking to his father in the kitchen, he fired up a game and put his headphones on. He could still remember doing that as a kid, whenever his mother screamed.  

  You haven't changed at all. 

  But even as he raged and cursed her to the lowest hell, a part of him knew this was all his fault. After all, why was he even here? Why, after all these years, was he still dependent on his father? 

  And how have I not killed him yet? 

  However shitty Lena's comment was, this was his failure in so, so many ways. 

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  A knock startled him. Kragan cracked the door open. "I'm going to go shopping. Are you coming along? You need anything?"

"Nope."

"Suit yourself." He shut the door with his typical rough indifference.. 

  Serj waited to hear the car start before he found the courage to go face Lena. Now that he had calmed down, he wanted to apologize. I love you too. He had to say it. 

  But Lena wasn't in the kitchen. Not in the living room. Not in the garden. 

  She went wih him, he realized.

  Tears of frustration came to his eyes. She had gone with his father, leaving him all alone. He's that hot, huh?

  Bitch! It never ceased to amaze him how quickly things could devolve. Just like with his mother. There she was one night, going to sleep all happy. Then poof. Gone. Dead. Did she care about abandoning him? Likely not.

  Still, Lena was never that heartless. What could have possibly come over her to act so strangely?

  Not that it matters. Betrayal is betrayal is betrayal.

  As he stood in the middle of the garden surrounded by distant birdsong and barking dogs, the sound of a car engine startled him. They're back? 

  She's back. Overwhelming relief washed over him. She came back for me.

  Light flashed off the polished surface of the luxurious sports car. Foreign. Expensive.

  Heels clacked against the pavement. A pale beauty with green eyes approached.

  The lavish waves of her lacquered hair flowed all down to her hypnotically swaying chest. The dark turtleneck did little to hide the extreme curves of her upper body, while her skintight jeans squeezed her thick thighs and ultra-wide hips.

  Serj felt uncomfortably turned on.

  The girl called out to him: "Why, hello there! Serj?"

  The familiarity in her tone struck him as strange. Had they met? No, I mean... His eyes lingered over the oversized breasts. They were big enough even on that thick frame to look positively vulgar. I wouldn't forget those. He really hoped she wasn't one of his father's "friends"....

  So difficult to get any words out. "That's me."

  She reached the wooden gate and leaned against it breathlessly. Those boobs were just jiggling along at the slightest movement. Definitely no bra underneath that... "Ah, good! I got a little lost back there."

  Seeing as he said nothing, she reached over to shake his hand. "I'm Deana." The top of the gate pressed into her soft, soft chest. It pulled up the fabric, revealing her pale tummy and the cutest pierced belly-button. 

  Too numb with desire, he shook her hand, staring at her openly. "Your breasts are huge." 

  Deana stopped short for a moment, looking shocked. Such frankness seemed to take care off-guard. "T-T-Thanks," she stammered, withdrawing her hand in embarrassment. She pulled down her sweater. 

  Somehow, her sudden reluctance only turned him on more. Idly, he wondered how she would react to be naked in front of a whole crowd.

  Her composure returned. "Sorry, nobody's ever said that to me before."

"They should have," said Serj confidently. Where this confidence was coming from he couldn't say. He spent his entire childhood debating whether or not to take Lena's hand when they walked home from school, and never did. Pussy barely summed him up.

"It sure took a long time to find you."

  The worry settled back in again. "What did I do?"

  Deana winked. "It's a surprise. May I come in?" 

"If you promise you won't kill me." He was only half-joking.

"To be safe, just keep the compliments coming." 

  The overbearing sweetness of her perfume hit him as she entered the yard, leaving him thoroughly intoxicated. Drowsy. Combined with that syrupy and sultry voice it threatened to take away all his self-control.

"Do I have good news for you, my friend. You remember your grandfather?"

  I can remember the way he told me I killed my mother and I would never be anything. "Vaguely." 

"He's dead."

"Oh." He took a pause, thinking back on that stern face. That one horrible night after she passed away. "That is good news."

  Deana clicked her tongue in frustration. "I'm such an idiot. I phrased that all wrong. I'm sorry for your loss, but I do have good news. As it happens, you're the first in line for his inheritance."

"How's that possible? There are so many." His own mother had three brothers and four sisters. Not to mention they had their own kids, and many of those soulless monsters procreated in turn, to be sure. 

"Well, your mother was the oldest of her siblings, and you're the oldest of their children, therefore..."

"But it would go to the first son." 

  Deana gave him a long, dark look. Was he wrong? "Not anymore," she said coolly.

  She tapped her black-nailed finger against the leather bag, then dug inside and took out a necklace. She held it out. "You know what this is?"

  Of course he did. 

  The necklace had belonged to his grandfather, and to all the other Orjonikidzes that came before him. A gift from the king, way back when. Richly-decorated gold ran along the black stone at the center. That night it had weighed down from his grandfather's chest on lighter chain, burning brightly. 

"I remember." 

  The Worldstone had come apart when humankind was still in its early stages. There were countless theories as to why it happened - everything from natural causes to conspiracies involving transdimensional vampire pedophiles. 

  Whatever it was, it changed the world forever. Humans got their hands on the shards from the explosion and started developing ways of harnessing the power they had left - sorcerer-kings used them to forge unholy empires, and now, in recent times, fragments were used to power entire megacities. 

  Powerful stuff, and no one quite figured out how to make more of them. 

  Crent remained one the few nations still untouched by modernity, at least politically. Whereas the shards had been taken over by the democratic governments in most places and put to public use, their use restricted by tomes of law and heavily under guard, the Morat dynasty retained theirs, along with those belonging to their vassals, wearing what amount to nuclear weapons around their necks or socketed in their ornamental swords.

  Just like his grandpappy. I'm so glad you're dead, he imagined himself saying to him, not now, but that night.

"The king sent me to deliver this to you personally," said Deana. "He would ask you to serve in your grandfather's stead."

  Suspicious. Far too suspicious. "Why woul King Eonar want me to serve?" Eonar wouldn't have known who he was. Even if word reached him by chance, he would likely hate him all the more, given the way his mother's family viewed him as some unpleasant bastard. As much of a martyr as they made of his mother, they had never quite gotten over the fact that she married his father. Who can blame them? He hadn't forgiven her either.

"King Eonar?" The name made her chuckle. She tried to suppress it, but it was followed by a dark little laugh that made her breasts jump beautifully. "Oh, dear! But news does travel slowly out here, doesn't it... I mean King Almas." 

  Ahhh, a new regime. Now it all made sense. Almas had been a vassal. One of the Knights. Serj didn't need to live in the capital to know how it worked. History, as it happened, did truly repeat itself... especially when your government stayed in the intricately recorded dark ages. 

  So Almas supplanted Eonar. Chances were, many of those loyal vassals went with him to the grave. Still, the simple-minded commoners had loved Eonar and his principled follies. Backwards and stupid loves backwards and stupid. How better to win legitimacy from the people than to assure them the system remainted intact and dedicated to the same idiotic values, if not by bringing out the Knights? Same families in charge - what would the commoners think? "Maybe it's not so bad." Even if the commoners reacted badly, they wouldn't overstep the acceptance of the aristocratic families, which Almas was sure to have made moves towards, probably long before Eonar passed. Serj was such a move.

  Naturally, very few of the relatives of the dead would want to serve the man that killed their fathers and grandfathers. They would have to be threatened, bought, or replaced. In lucky cases, they would be able to find antagonistic elements in the family, as Serj was to the Orjonikidzes. 

  His eyes went back to the necklace. "That's not even real, is it?" They would've never risked sending a crony with the real deal. 

  Deana nodded with satisfaction and threw it over her head with disgust. "I'm glad you're not an idiot. Really. But I promise you, Serj, the real necklace is waiting for you at the palace. All you need to do is take your place as the head of the family, and join the Knights. You swear fealty to the king, and you won't ever have to live like this again." 

  Live like this? The comment irked him. "A Knight? I'm too lazy."

"You'll bond with the king. As it happens, he is also very lazy. Plus, you have my approval."

"Are you a Knight?"

  Those piercing green eyes shone with pride. "Yes. More importantly, I'm his his daughter." 

  Oh, no... He had said all those things to the princess? No wonder she reacted that way. This was why he would be terrible at this. "I'll need to consider this."

"Of course. Take your time. I'll wait."

  Serj glanced down at her heels. She seemed rooted in place. "Here?" 

"Do you not have a spare room for a royal princess? If not, I'd start building one if I were you." She tittered darkly. "I kid. If you don't, I'll just have to share your bed."

  Another wave of arousal nearly made him collapse. What a crazy creature. A princess at that. 

  The unreality of it all and the paranoid dread slowly began to settle in. Likely, his mother's family had already sent people to have him assassinated. He threatened their whole legacy, their bloodline, their lifestyle. And even if not, then what? Being a Knight required hard work. And no doubt refusing would lead to these new people trying to force him into it. Suddenly, reality hit him hard on the head. No, this was a tragedy. I'm so dead.