Sorry for the delays, this week however we will be getting the end of volume 2 of Dan's shoppe come hell or high water or both!!!!

AAAAAnnnddddd seeing as there has been no content for some time I wanted a poll, I have 2 fics posed to be released, I think you know one lol but the other I want input on how to release it.

Here is the first teaser:

[https://i.imgur.com/mBngTvH.jpg]

And here is the second and the first four chapters of it.

Please vote to let me know how you want this released

[https://i.imgur.com/xDExDoT.jpg]

CHAPTER 1

Tessia bowed deeply, the man in front of her looked down at her from atop his throne, well, if throne it could be called, and the only reason it was from the top of was because it had been stationed above her and not at eye level, and not because he felt he was any better than anyone else. She wore a plain grey homespun dress, one of a simple fashion, telling the world of her station and standing at a glance, she was a peasant, a common. A person to whom the world would simply pass by.

It had passed her by.

He had passed her by.

From a young age she had known that she was meant to be tribute, payment. A thing with which to offer any mage that aided the village where she had grown up as payment for services rendered. At first she had hated the idea, she was a person was she not? But as she grew she realised that it was not that they didn't respect her, or that they saw her as nothing more than a possession, it was a sign of deep respect, she was not just some pretty penny to be tossed away to a passing mage for doing little work.

No she was a sign of great respect.

She was a magebride, or more accurately she had been a magebride.

She remembered the day clearly, it was some four years ago, the Valarian army had been bearing down on their village, just another village with little to offer the Valarian soldiers anything more than a few more women to rape and a few more stores of food. Her village and the two hundred souls there were nothing but simple playthings to the Valarians.

Or they would have been if not for a lone man.

The one she had found herself bowing before at this very moment. She remember the sound, like a roar of an angry god as he bared down on the thousand man army, a flaming sword in one hand, and one that shimmered and waved like water from the ocean lapping on the beach in the other.

Fire and water.

With each stroke of his blades he had felled a hundred men, cutting his way through the army like it was so much paper. The Valarian soldiers had started to flee when they realised what was going on, no one besides a mage stood a chance against a mage, and in the course of an hour they had pulled back, and he had felled over a thousand men. She had only seen it from a distance, but she knew the day she had been apportioned for had come. She had many delusions as a younger girl, about young men, dashing brave kind mages that would save her village and sweep her off of her feet, taking her away to live in a royal manse with magic devises and servants. But that had been a younger her, she had come to terms with what she had to do by the time she had turned sixteen, as she had been back then, she had come to terms with herself, knowing that she would likely have to serve some old man, some elderly mage. The man that had walked into the village however after slaughtering a thousand men was not some old man, but rather a man of about 20 or so.

She had remembered watching as he walked into the town, an air of confidence about him, even as blood dripped from his elegant robes. She had remembered them well, they were the same ones he was wearing today. They consisted of black velvet, with thread of gold, sewn into the him of the robes, framing each and every edge of the black velvet jacket that went down to his knees, under this he had a blood red vest, it also hemmed in gold. From the gold laced cuffs of his sleeves issued white lace frill, and at the base of his throat was the same, a lace kerchief that seemed to be attacked to the white frill that had risen out of the neck of the overcoat. Pinned to his shoulder on his left hand side with a golden pendant was a velvet half cape, black on the outside and blood red on the inside, and covering his hand was blood red leather gloves of the finest make. On his legs black velvet trousers, and dark knee high riding boots finished the look.

But it was not the attire that had drawn her eyes the most, it was the man himself. He had smooth skin, impossibly smooth. Smoother than her own, she remembered how upsetting this had been for her at the age of sixteen and smiled despite herself. This was the man that she was to be given, for he had saved her village. He had such red hair, fiery red, long locks that framed his face, most of which were pulled back into a braid behind his head, and a short red beard on his chin, and those eyes, such a blue to make the ocean ashamed at its dull approximation of his eyes.

She had been sixteen, and she had prepared herself for this, but that man, the confidence of each step, the swagger of a man that had all the right in the world to walk anywhere he damned well pleased and take whatever he had wanted.

It had been intoxicating.

She had been offered, and he had accepted. It had been frightening and exciting all at once, and he had been so gentle, so soft with her on her first time, she still remembered the caress of his touch, the feel of his manhood as he had her maidenhood. The way he had held her after, the soft feeling of his skin on her own.

And then just like that he had left the next day, not taking her with him, simply leaving her with a golden necklace he had around his neck, inlaid with the largest of red rubies she had ever seen, telling her that if she wore this necklace no ill thing would come to her, no sickness, no ill intent. Part of it was assuredly a charm, a talisman, how else could it stop sickness? The other part was bombast, none would touch a woman, peasant or no that wore a mage’s necklace, not even rode bandits or robbers.

He had simply left, not knowing he was leaving her entire life in shambles. What was she to do now? She had served her purpose, she had done what she was supposed to do, and now so used she was discarded. She had been angry, she remembered, the rage at being cast aside, it had its place but was soon replaced with worry and apprehension and confusion.

She had become pregnant.

That might be expected of a woman who slept with a man, but she had slept with a mage, everyone knew anyone who wielded magic was infertile. There were no exceptions, none. Mages didn't have children, they couldn't. Yet there she was, she had never been with another man, of course she had not been with any other man, no one dare touch her, they would not slight a mage giving them used goods, and none would touch her after, not once they saw the necklace. A single night, and she had been impregnated, with a child from a mage that could not have child, it was all too much to take in, even for her these four years latter. As soon as little Athela had been old enough to travel Tessia knew what she had to do. It had taken four years, but she now stood before that man, the only man she had ever known, the father of her child.

A warmage named Alain.

CHAPTER 2

Alain looked at the woman bowing at him. She was a comely woman, in a rural sort of way, with golden hair, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones and a well shaped and feminine figure. Her bosom was of a good size and her hips were wide. And as his eyes passed over these features he felt something else, there was more to this woman, she had something to her most non mage women he had seen did not.

A spine.

Even as she bowed there was this defiant cut to her, like she had been wronged. Thinking back mayhaps she had been, he remembered her, he had remembered her the moment she had walked in, the second his eyes had met hers he remembered. She had been a pretty lass, so scared, and curious, so full of life, he had wanted to bring her with him but had at the time felt it would be to cruel to the young girl, court was a double sided blade without a handle, it would have ripped the poor girl apart, so he had left her with her relatives and loved ones, leaving her with the necklace that now dangled about her neck.

A lot of good it did him leaving her there, seeing as she was now standing before him. He wondered at it, had he been doing her a kindness leaving her in the world she had known? Or had it been a cruelty to leave her behind. He could still to this day see the pain in her eyes when he left, the dejected look, as she refused to shed tears, to damned defiant to cry in front of him.

To damn defiant.

But it was all moot, seeing as she was standing here in front of him, bowing, claiming he was the father of her child. Normally he would have shook this off, seeing as there was no way, mages had no children they were infertile, a side effect of the magic that coursed through there blood. Today however he believed her. It was impossible to lie to a mage, if it was attempted the mage would know you did not speak the truth.

“This is your child, I have known no other man.” she had said it, and he had known it to be true. What had been her name again?

Tessia.

The answer came to him quickly, like most answers, not like the answer to the question of what to do now, that one was being elusive to him. Alain looked at the small child standing behind the mother, at a little over three years old she looked to be a perfect copy of her mother, with the same bright blue eyes and golden hair. He found himself drawn into those small blue eyes. Her blond locks were pulled to the side into two pigtails that stuck out at the side of her head, held inplace by two red ribbons.

“Lady Tessia,” he spoke, and the woman stiffened, obviously surprised that he remembered her name. “If you don't mind, I will have a servant make accommodations for you and-” he trailed off, looking at the girl, what should he call her? Your daughter? No that was not correct, it was not just her daughter, but calling her our daughter also seemed incorrect somehow…

“Athela,” Tessia said simply, “Her name is Athela.”

“Then if you don't mind, I will have a servant make accommodations for you and Athela, please give me time to think on what to do in this matter,” she raised her head and looked deep into his eyes, “This entire situation is hard for me to comprehend, I pray for your understanding as I take time to think.” he asked, completely honestly as he lay his feelings out bare for her to see. She stared at him, taking his eyes into her own, and then as if satisfied she nodded. Alain waved a hand, and at his side a woman appeared, she had long black hair, a voluptuous curve to her body even clad in the maid outfit she wore. From the temples of her head golden horns curled back over head, the black ringlets she had in her hair fell around them like waves of a black ocean upon golden monoliths. Her eyes were also solid gold, no pupil or iris to be found. “Vivian, can you please see to it that they are housed in the best room we have, and make sure that every need they have is satisfied.” Vivian simply nodded, and walked down the short row of steps towards the two women and in a sweeping motion beckoned them to follow. They did, but not before Tessia’s eyes met Alain’s, in those eyes was a promise.

We will talk.

Those eyes told him. And he knew it to be true, with a sigh he leaned back into the plump red velvet and ironwood seat he was upon. “Bast.” he called and to his right there appeared an older man, looking to be in his seventies, lines on his dignified face, white hair atop his head, parted to the side and sweeping back and a dignified mustache on his face. Like the lady before him he also had golden eyes and golden horns from the corner of his temples. He was attired in a butler’s outfit, an elegant outfit that seemed to fit his personality, solemn, dignified. It consisted of a black tie, white wing collar dress shirt, grey vest, grey striped trousers white gloves and a black morning coat, its coat tails coming to rest mid calf. Alain said nothing as he looked at the man, and then he held out a hand. Bast, as he was called by his master was fully named Sebastian, he was Alain’s most senior and trusted servant.

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He had after all been Alain’s first familiar.

Familiars were creatures from the nether, they took human form, and answered the summoning calls of mages, trading unwavering loyalty for the power that coursed through a mage’s veins. Alain sustained three of them in total, Bast, Vivian, and Mura.

With a small smile that turned up the kindly looking man’s face he produced a golden chalice, handing it to his lord. Alain drew his hand over the edge of the chalice, allowing the sharp golden edge to cut the flesh of his palm, and holding it over the cup he allowed it to be filled halfway with his blood. The wound then closed with a thought. He handed the cup back to Bast who took it with a gracious bow, but did not drink it right away simply standing there, swirling the blood like it was a fine wine, to be savored.

“I did not think I would have the pleasure of serving a household with an heir.” Bast said, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he looked at his lord sitting there, lost in thought. Alain looked up at the man, or familiar depending on how you felt about it, this familiar had been the closest thing he had to a father for the past fourteen years, no for the entirety of his life, since he had been taken from an orphanage at the age of ten when it was discovered that he had latent magic power. His first familiar. “Mura is not pleased,” Bast said, the smiling deepening, “Even Vivian is upset by this turn of events.” Alain sighed, resting his head in his hands. Mura was upset by this, of course she was, she was a naturally jealous creature, and loved to be doted upon by Alain, and doting back, and as for Vivian, thought she rarely ever showed it, she felt deeply. “I have a feeling that they will both be demanding a high blood price later for this.” Sebastian’s smile came fully to the front now, making the white mustache on his lips to tremble with the motion.

“Indeed.” Alain sighed again.

Bast smiled, and raised the chalice in salute, “To your health, and to the health of house Cainhost,” he said, and raised the cup to his lips, drinking deeply of the red liquid, smile still on his lips.

CHAPTER 3

She softly brushed the sleeping Athela’s hair as she sat on a bed to heavenly to have imagined before this day. She had been treated kindly, mayhaps even more so than other women as she had grown up, always getting the best food the village could offer, the best clothes, the best beds and any other comfort they thought might be needed to make her as attractive as possible.

It was like fattening a pig before a slaughter.

She was reminded of this, and of the events after he had left her behind. It had all dried up, all that charity, all that kindness. No one had ever bothered to teach her the things other women learned from a young age, and seeing as she had satisfied her need, the villages need she was now useless, she would not be offered to another mage, it would be dishonorable to offer anything less than a virgin, and no one wanted to offend a mage. And no man would touch her, seeing as she was worthless and had already been used. She remembered the self loathing she had felt, her entire purpose ripped away from her. She remembered the fear when she realised she was pregnant, the shock of her parents, and their demands to know who the father was.

She hadn't told them.

They would have never believed her.

She was dishonored, she had a child out of wedlock, she was worthless.

This was how she felt, and from it rose a rage.

Everything, everything that had caused her life to fall apart was from that single night, from him. But it was also not his fault, no more than it was hers. The true people at fault were her parents and her village, those who sought to offer her up as nothing more than a payment to any passing mage. She calmed her breathing, her nostrils flaring as she did so, and she jumped slightly when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” she said, expecting it to be the first maid that had showed them to the room, or perhaps that second one that she had seen skulking in the shadows shooting her hateful looks. Instead it was Alain. He swept into the room, all graceful like he owned the place, she smiled at her own thoughts, he did own the place. “How may I help you lord Cainhost?” she asked, her voice curt, but polite, she didn't know how this was going to work, what was her standing here?

“May I sit?” he asked, sweeping his hand towards a chair, when she nodded he pulled it over and sat in it, elbows on knees, hands steepled in such a way that his chin rested on the knuckles, was nothing this man did not perfect, not elegant? They sat eyeing one another for a long moment, both silent. “Ask it.” he said, but she continued to simply look at him. “Ask woman, you have looked at me as though you have something to say ever since you laid eyes on me.” he said in a sharp tone. “Just ask,” he said, his voice growing softer.

She closed her eyes. “Do you know what you did?” she asked softly, he found he had to hold his breath just to hear her. “Do you know the pain you have wrought? You took my purpose and left me with nothing but a trinket to show for my life in shambles.” she said softly, touching the ruby necklace that hung about her. “I was raised to be a Magewife, a Magebride,” she looked around the room and a look of self scorn appeared on her face. “ What folly, as if simple farm folk could ever make a lady as good as these surroundings.” she snapped her eyes back to him. “It was all a mistake, all of it.” he glanced over at Athela sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed. “No,” she snapped, his eyes went back to her, seeing the seething anger in them, “I will not allow you to look at her like a failure, she is not the one who made the mistake, and she is no mistake.” she took a deep breath, closing her eyes once again, and asked a question she had been wanting to know, needing to know for almost four years now. “Why?” she asked, the single word so wracked with emotion it practically thrummed with a power of its own as it forced its way out of her tight throat.

“Many reasons,” he said with a sigh, “I thought I was being kind to you, the royal capital, the royal court, it is not like the tales of the common folk,” there was a long pause. “You were so happy so content, so full of life, it would have torn you apart.” he paused, “I have enemies, those who would hurt others so they could hurt me, I thought I was protecting you, ignorance is bliss they say, I thought it better to leave you with people you love and know in a world apart from my own.” he shook his head with a rueful smile. “Though now it seems to be of little worth I would like to apologize for not being there for you through the pregnancy, or the birth or all the hard times up till now.” his smile faded, “I am sorry if I seem unsure of myself, this is without president, I have no knowledge to fall back on, no example to look to,” he looked up at her. “What I can say for certain however is I wish to get to know both you and Athela better.” he looked over at Athela, and shook his head, her eyes grew cold at that and she lashed out at him.

“I will not have you look at my child like she is a mistake!” she snarled, and he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “She is no mistake, and if you continue to look at her as such I will take her and leave.” He nodded simply, and sat there quietly looking down at his hands which were now entwined in between his legs, his elbows still resting on his knees. Another question occurred to her and before she could bring herself to understand if it was even relevant she asked. “The woman who brought us here, what is she to you?”

“Vivian?” he asked, “She is a servant, a familiar, she and Bast and Mura are my familiars, they give me unwavering loyalty, you can say that I am their patron, but what I give them is not gold or honor, but blood.”

“Blood?”

“Yes, a Mage has magic coursing through them, it is in our very veins, the familiars are called from the Nether, another world, and to keep their forms they require magic, thus they feed off of me, in exchange for their loyalty they receive my blood which has mana in it to keep them here.” he explained.

“That is what she is, not who she is, I mean is she a servant to you or a woman to you?” she asked softly.

“She is both,” he answered softly, “As is Mura.”

“I see, then both positions I can fill are already occupied.”

“I want not for another woman, or another servant,” he said softly, and saw as her back straightened and jaw clenched. “However, I did mean what I said, I wish to get to know both you and Athela better, and if in that time you fill either role, then you fill those roles.” he looked at her, and at Athela. “What do we tell her?” he asked softly.

“The truth.” she stated simply. “She deserves that.” he nodded, and giving her a bow left the room. She stared at the door after he had left, unsure of how she ought to feel.

CHAPTER 4

Alain sighed as he sank into the bed, it had been a long day, a very very long day. He lay there unable to raise his head, simply staring at the cloth that hung draped from the four tall posts that marked the corners of his bed. Deep red, deep black and pure white, all three hung there entwined in a loose braided fashion, the ends of them hanging down in a lavish way like a cascade of cloth waterfalling from the ceiling. He didn't even look up when the door of his inner chamber opened. He knew who it was, he could feel her presence.

Mura leaned over him, her long red hair pulled back, falling into curls that reached mid back, one section of the fiery red hair thrown over her shoulder on the left side. Her horns were slightly back further than either Bast’s or Vivians, and curved forward like a bulls instead of up like there's.

She was a different class of familiar, while she was still his familiar and he was her master she was still higher in standing than the other two, they both would bow to her wishes, unless they went against the masters. She had pure white skin, and she was wearing an elegant gown, it was the same color as her hair. Her upper torso was covered in a bodice of black velvet, laced with a white cord that stood out against the black and red. A single gold earring hang from her ear, a simple loop that seemed to shine in the dark interior of the room. She rested her hands on her hips, which were emphasized by the volume of her skirts where they met the tight skin hugging curves of her bodice.

“Say it.” he said with a sigh, realising that that was the second time he had said that to a woman today.

“I- You- how?” she asked, her stern expression melting away, leaving behind a disturbed woman, almost sick with worry and hurt. He reached up and pulled her down, she pushed her face into his shoulder and breathed deeply. He let his head fall back to the bed and sighed, one arm across her back, the other running through that fiery red hair.

“I don't know,” he sighed, “But I know it is true, there was no lie in Tessia.” she stiffened when he said her name. “Mura,” he started but she placed her hands on his torso and pushed herself up looking down at him, her red hair cascading over her shoulders, creating a curtain around the two of their faces, cutting them off from the world.

“What do you intend to do with her?” she asked, her solid golden eyes growing narrower.

“I do not know,” he sighed, looking her straight in the eyes. “I do plan on keeping them around so I can find out however, I wish to get to know both Tessia and Athela better.” he said.

“Is there a possibility she will share your bed?” Mura asked softly, if her eyes got any narrower they would be shut.

“It is a possibility.” he answered honestly, she deserved honesty. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and looked like she was saying a prayer before talking to him again, still looking away.

“You know how I feel.” she said.

“And you know how I feel.” he responded but her fingers dug into his skin, and she looked back down at him again.

“I need to hear you say it.” she spoke softly.

“Do you doubt my words I spoke to you before?”

“No,” she said, “I simply need to hear it now, please, humor me.”

“I love you.” he said, speaking each word with care, as a familiar she knew the words of her master, she knew whether they were true or false, and she knew he spoke the truth to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and her eyes opened and she stared down at him. “Though you are not off the hook simply because of a few words, the price will be high tonight.” she hissed, her lips pulling back in a hungry smile. Unfortunately for her actually getting to the main course would take well over thirty minutes, even with hands deft and practiced at it. Ruffles had to be removed, bodices had to be unlaced and skirts and bloomers and several other layers of clothing, it was such work that they both shone with a light sheen of sweat after simply removing clothing, though part of that might have been anticipatory. He pulled back to look at her body, wide hips, thick legs, narrow waist fill breasts topped with cute pink nipples, collarbone, neck, lower chin, there was nothing about her not designed to attract him, familiars make their form when they first come into the world, and she had apparently spent time making hers, right down to the mole on the lower side of her abdomen, she looked him up and down, taking in every curve and line of him, from his scars to his perfect patches of skin, and he did likewise, though on her end there was a noticeable lack of scars.

He reached up, but did not grab her breasts, but instead brushed against the place just above them, the skin there had an image on it, tattooed into her through magical means, it was a Vinictum, a binding mark. It meant her fate was tied to his own, when a Familiar’s master died they would fade back to the nether, unless they were tied to the master with a Vinictum, if they had one of those then they were tied body and soul to the master, meaning when the master died they would aswell, leaving behind all things, traveling with the master to the next dream. “Such foolishness,” he cooed, rubbing a thumb over the mark, a small smile curled her lips, and she grabbed his hand and pushed it down until the thumb that was caressing her collarbone was now resting on her right nipple.

“You have more important things to be rubbing down,” she said with a laugh, her cheeks flush, though weather it was from embarrassment or excitement was anyone’s guess. He smiled at her and gently began rolling her nipple around with his thumb, softly passing over it. His other hand reached up and began working on massaging her chest. As his hands ran over her body she reached down, setting on his thighs so that she straddled him. She grasped his manhood , bringing it up to touch her skin in between her legs and pressed it, so that the base was in between her legs and the tip reaching towards her navel. She began stroking it even as his hands wandered over her chest. He could feel the warmth of her skin, feel the heating up as she started involuntary gyrations, even as she stroked him. Her eyes were half closed and looking somewhere else.

With a smile he moved his hands to her hips and rolled, pinning her to the bed. Her eyes opened wide and a scream died in her throat as he pinned her down and it turned into a moan. “Alain, don't tease me so,” she moaned, her hair spread out behind her head like a halo of fire.

“I'm sorry.” he said a wicked smile on his face.

“No you're not,” she sighed, “I can tell if you are lying remember?” she said, and then she stopped speaking and started squeaking when he pressed against her, about to split her apart. “Wait, wait, that's too fast I need to-” she broke off as he pressed into her, his first thrust caused a pressure in between his legs as he found she was too tight to reliably enter in a single thrust, he pulled back slightly allowing the inch he had pushed in or so pull almost out and slid in again, he made it farther this time, using her lubricants to ease the sliding.

It took four such initial thrusts to get fully inside of her, and every time he thrust she would utter such a cute squeak he couldn't help but smile. He straightened up and grabbed her by the hips, getting off the bed and pulling her along with him until he was supporting everything besides her upper torso and up with his hands and hips. He tightened his grip on her and began moving, her hands entangled with the sheets and her legs wrapped around his hips. Every time he slid home she would release a gasp and the force would cause a ripple to run through her, causing her breasts to shake with all the plump firmness they could muster.

“Alain! Alain!” she began calling out his name, each time she did it became louder and more shrill, like it was the only word she remembered. He leaned over her and she wrapped her arms around his back, her eyes flashed red for a second and her teeth bit into the area between his neck and his shoulder, he had expected it, but the sharp pain of her teeth still made him draw in a sharp breath.

As the first of the blood touched her tongue he felt the walls around his manhood tighten, like it was squeezing him dry, it became so tight that he had some trouble moving, but he persisted. She pulled her lips back, releasing his skin and muscke from her teeth and then opened her mouth wider, biting the area around the bite she had just done, squeezing his muscle so she could drink more of his blood.

The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure. He began thrusting faster as he felt the end approach, and she bit harder as she felt it aswell. It didn't take long for him to release, and when he did she did aswell, the two of them climaxing at the same time. She held onto him rigidly for a few seconds before flopping back completely spent. He looked down at her, panting as sweat and blood dripped off of him. Her face was satisfied, the area below her nose was covered in a mess of blood and some had even dripped down her neck and ran a few red lines down her breast, carving paths of red in the pure white. He looked at her and shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, and her gold eyes flicked up at him, she gave him her sweetest look, which was only hampered slightly by the blood all over her face.

“Love me?” she asked innocently with a smile and a slight shoulder shrug.