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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
Scribblehub https://www.scribblehub.com/series/542002/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms/
& https://www.scribblehub.com/series/547709/the-old-realms/
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> “I’ll walk to the temple,” Lussiel said and Maeriel frowned looking at the patrol waiting at the entrance.
>
> “I should come along—” she started, but Lussiel stopped her with a glare.
>
> “You shall wait here. Bask in the summer sun and think of all the fun you’ll have tonight,” she told her sternly, softening it a little at the end of it.
>
> “I don’t partake in dances,” Maeriel hissed.
>
> “Well I do,” Lussiel replied and walked towards the Hoplites. Lyceron greeted her with a smile and she paused in front of him.
>
> “Sovereign,” Lyceron greeted her informally and popped a couple of berries in his mouth.
>
> “Is Roran back?” She asked him casually.
>
> “The First of the Hallowed hasn’t returned,” Lyceron replied.
>
> “I see. It’s been two months.”
>
> “He’s an old man,” Lyceron noted with a hint of razz.
>
> Lussiel wasn’t of the same opinion.
>
> “Are they any good?” She asked him, eyeing the rest of his patrol. Lussiel had grew up with them and knew most of her bodyguards for all her life.
>
> “The best of the bunch,” Lyceron replied and offered her a handful.
>
> “How would a Hoplite know of berries?” She teased him and he stood back, raising a cobalt brow.
>
> “What one learns stays with him,” Lyceron retorted confidently. “Just like dancing.”
>
> Lussiel nodded and tasted one of the mature berries looking at him. “I’ve had better Hoplite,” she decided with a shrug and heard the chuckles coming from his friends. “I hope you’re a better dancer,” Lussiel added and walked away. She reached the entrance of the temple and slowly climbed up the many stairs. A priestess bowed her head when she entered the cool interior. Lussiel covered the distance to the altar of the Goddess slowly and waited for the ragged High Priest to finish tending to the offerings.
>
> Voldomir saw her standing there and grunted murmuring under his breath. He gathered his old robes and turned around to face her with a tired sigh.
>
> “Yes?” He hissed. “I was about ready to leave for lunch.”
>
> “Is Qodras in the den?” Lussiel asked keeping the chuckle in.
>
> “Here I thought, the Queen came to pray and give example. Hah, more the fool me!” Voldomir griped angry. “What am I, the Wyvern’s keeper?”
>
> “You keep everything in its proper place,” Lussiel droned and the ancient priest snorted not taking to her jest.
>
> “Only fools think a mortal can keep anything by himself,” Voldomir admonished her. “Be it rich, or poor and whatever one’s station. The Gods stand above everyone,” seeing her chuckling he shook his head. “You find this amusing your Highness?”
>
> “No I don’t,” Lussiel replied trying to keep a straight face. “I was just about to ask you if you’re celebrating tonight and make a fool of myself. You saved me from a royal embarrassment my good priest. Still the question lingers in my soul.”
>
> “He’s here,” Voldomir said dryly, pressing his mouth tight.
>
> Ah.
>
> “You have your Queen’s gratitude,” Lussiel replied all serious and the old priest rolled his eyes disgusted at her attitude.
>
> So Lussiel left him a handful of berries next to the altar. Voldomir loved munching on them.
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Glen
Arguen Garth
Hardir O’ Fardor
Monarch O’ Morn Taras
The Last night of summer
Part III
-Valimae Lilt-
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Glen felt the water rolling down his face a bit chilly, the barrel now lukewarm, arms and legs numb and almost fell asleep again. The bed creaked and he heard Sen put her feet down. The woman moved slowly through the big room, reached the door and cracked it open. Glen heard whispering voices, the villa quiet now. He tried to remember the time they had spent in bed, but his mind was riddled with rapid images of Sen in the throes of passion that had consumed them both and nothing else.
He’d lost control at some point and had come out of it spent, but it seemed Sen-Iv had still had her wits about her.
“What are you planning?” Glen asked hearing her returning, his head resting on the lip of the bath-barrel.
“I wanted to ensure the girls were taken care off,” Sen replied softly and Glen heard the sound of clothes placed on their bed.
“Were they?”
“It’s a big place, but too empty.”
Glen was still behind in refurbishing the place.
“I assume you have plans to fix that,” Glen said with a grin and tried to catch her naked form, but his wife kept herself out of sight. “What are you doing for Luthos sake?”
“Placing lights,” Sen-Iv replied. “Where did you find the mirror?”
“Why?”
“It’s a Lesia design.”
Glen rolled his eyes. “Twas loot probably, got it pretty cheap.”
“I have brought another.”
“You’ve brought a bedroom mirror with the ship?” Glen asked her.
“Leona didn’t mind.”
“I don’t really trust that woman,” Glen murmured.
“She has a new boyfriend,” Sen-Iv commented.
“Good.”
“And a couple of girlfriends,” she added with a giggle, clothes rustling and jewels clinking.
“That’s greedy of her. Other people are still single and she isn’t helping.”
“She would have had another one, but her father caught them fooling around,” Sen continued. “Had a really big dog chase her about for hours inside the port, the ending of the tale varies depending on who tells it.”
Ah. I hope that dog ate through her arse.
“Who is the boyfriend?” Glen asked. “I’m not sure if I should pity the fool, or congratulate him.”
“You don’t want to know,” Sen replied with a chuckle. “I missed you.”
“Yet yer hiding back there,” Glen griped.
“There’s no room in your barrel.”
“Hah,” Glen guffawed. “That’s where you’re mistaken wife.”
A horn was heard coming from outside. “What was that?”
“It’s starting, you should get dressed husband,” Sen replied. “I will let the girls in.”
“There are outside?”
“With Metu. Your Chamberlain,” Sen replied a hint of razz in her voice.
“How do you know?” Glen asked dodging.
“He told me,” Sen replied calmly this time. “Twice. You’ve been sleeping in that barrel for a while Glen.”
“You wore me out woman!” Glen retorted smiling.
“I sure hope not,” came his wife’s reply. “The night hasn’t started yet.”
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Glen blinked too engrossed to work his mouth and Iskay had to finish buttoning his pants, afore stepping away. Sen-Iv sighed her arms wrapped around her waist, the lights she had put on making her attire sparkle.
Glen loved that outfit.
“You’re filling it up much better,” he finally declared, clearing his throat and glancing at Iskay’s naughty expression. The slave girl wore a similar outfit, the two pieces of cloth forming the revealing top and short skirt, shockingly minimal.
“I’m trying to lose weight,” Sen blurted blushing.
“Don’t,” Glen decided. “I see nothing out of place. Still you should put something on and that goes for you also Iskay. It’s warm out there, but most people don’t go about naked.”
“It’s Valimae Lilt Glen,” Sen countered with a smile. “There’s no dress code.”
“Well, you will put something on,” Glen insisted. “Trust me, the Zilan are lecherous creatures.”
“I can’t believe you found them,” Sen said changing the subject. “And this. My rogue kept his word.”
“You don’t have to worry about a thing. And as for the locals, the novelty wears off once ye get to know them,” he rustled and put a new leather vest on. “Should we go then?”
“I still have your ring,” she said when he approached her. “Can we have a moment?”
“Sen, if I look at these beauties for a second more,” Glen muttered his hand feeling her heavy breast over the bejeweled thin material. “We ain’t going anywhere. That’s a fuckin’ promise love.”
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Glen paused just outside the entrance of his villa and eyed Alan Kirk, the Gallant Dog guard standing next to a clad in a fiery red robe Metu, the former slave’s heavy makeup giving him a clownish look. He frowned, then glanced at Sen-Iv slowly walking the small distance to the tiled road, covered in a mesh-like long cloak that ended at her well-shaped ankles. The bejeweled straps of her heeled sandals sparkling at the light coming from the banks of Taras Lake and the pavilion.
Fikumin had told him Voron wanted a hundred twelve-foot posts set at the south side of the lake -the flattened beach facing the Royal Neighborhood- and he wasn’t exaggerating. In fact the lightposts reached all the way to his villa’s entrance, the many lightstones illuminating this part of ‘Mid city’ and turning night into day. He offered his arm to his wife. Sen placed her small ring-covered hand on it and allowed Glen to lead her down the road. The rest of their entourage following after them. Iskay and Seeyu. Chamberlain Metu and his Shield Fikumin Flintfoot. The Gallant Dog attached units, former Rida guards and Lorians Alan Kirk and his friend Enoch Bing.
A half-naked Jinx got out of a corner house across from his, followed by an uncomfortable Maeriel in a ‘dress’, which was a first. A typical Zilan short –more shirt than skirt- one piece dress that paled next to Jinx’s even more scandalous outfit. Glen shook his head in disbelief seeing Lyceron, chest oiled and hair made into an elaborate bun at the top of his head, the male pants he had on almost matching Jinx’s micro-skirt.
Cock and balls dangling underneath and all.
“Move aside,” Glen warned him when he tried to greet him with enthusiasm and Sen chuckled at his uneasiness.
Fuck’s sake!
“How is this funny?” he grunted and scanned the stands he was supposed to seat on. A simple separate three row construction that gave him a small vantage point and the ability to see most of the rest of the revamped area at this part of the lake. The beach had turned into a large resort area. Grass had been cleared, the carved granite fishing docks and edges revealed, the lightposts giving a warm glow to those present and there were a lot of them.
“Seeing you protective of my eyes is orgasmic,” Sen-Iv replied correcting him. “Not funny. Though I may react similarly at times so I can understand.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t,” Glen retorted and helped her sit down.
Sen-Iv crossed her oiled legs and pushed back on her seat, everything moving and stretching out and Glen had to begrudgingly admit he might be wrong on that one. He cleared his throat, licked his dry lips and turned to face the gathering crowd. A mixture of all the races of the Realm almost with Zilan being the overwhelming majority, pockets of Lorian and Cofols gathered at the edges to take advantage of the free wine and food distributed.
Glen’s eyes paused at the long beam set before the stand across from him, a larger separate pear-shaped wooden structure created for the musicians. To his left the lake’s waters flowed in tranquil silence, moonlight and luminance from Voron’s Posts making its surface appear a silvery gold. To his right the large flattened area had been packed with Goras old and new citizens and its three city-sized districts.
“How many of them are here?” Glen grunted and Fikumin that had climbed up the stand cursing its creator scowled and tried to put his curly wild hair in some semblance of an order afore replying.
“Five, six thousand far as I can see,” he rustled. “Twice that probably. You’re asking the wrong man.”
God darn it.
“Do we have food for everyone here?”
“Everyone brings either food or wine milord,” Fikumin mocked him. “I’m sure your Excellency brought the most offerings.”
“Did we?” Glen asked Metu, the Chamberlain standing a row under him busy commenting on Iskay’s outfit, but getting handsy with it. Sen pressed her crossed leg on his somehow and snapped him out of his scowl.
“You paid for the wine milord,” Metu repeated calmly. “But it was an excellent prize per barrel.”
That’s a fuck ton of barrels to sate all those free-loaders though, Glen thought sourly.
“Is it any good? Can’t have ‘em puking all over Voron’s tiles now, do we?” Glen asked and brought a cup from the small stand in front of him to his lips.
The wine was excellent.
“It’s summer Vinos,” Fikumin explained. “The Zilan make it by the truckload. The land beyond the south lake is covered with wine vines. This particular is from Voldomir’s temple cellar.”
“I had to pay for this shite an arm and a leg in Rida!” Glen blasted him, the fruity taste of the wine enticing his palate receptors.
“That was Flauegran,” Fikumin explained with a snort. “A cheap imitation of the real thing.”
“My lord,” Metu stopped him afore he could admonish the dwarf. “You should say a few words.”
“About what?”
“It’s the custom,” Metu explained and Soletha standing next to an inebriated Soren raised a silver goblet to him. Everyone was imbibing Glen’s free wine with gusto it appeared. “A return to the glory days of the past. That’s what the people are hoping for.”
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“How in the slovenly fuck could you know that?”
“I use informers. All races are prone to bribery milord and everyone likes shiny things,” Metu grinned wide at that and Glen thought about punching him in the face, but didn’t realizing the man was probably in the right.
He just had a very-annoying punchable face.
“Speak of the changing seasons,” Sen-Iv told him calmly. “Of a return to much beloved traditions and easy profits. Tell them about you Glen in other words,” she added with a warm smile. “And they’ll love it.”
Well then, Glen thought and assumed his patented manic grin, setting his shoulders back and pushing his chest out. Anfalon who watched everyone from the sides like a hawk, while chewing at plump strawberries Lymsiel was feeding him, swallowed abruptly seeing no-one paying any attention to the awkwardly standing upright and slowly turning red in the face Monarch of Morn Taras and boomed with a great voice that cut sharply through the noise.
A titan’s call to attention that stopped the giggles and the murmuring of those present from one edge of the grand pavilion to the other. Immobilized the bards tuning their instruments on their stand and even stopped a couple of unruly citizens fucking amidst the surplus crowd that had spilled around the covered area.
“Hardir shall speak now,” Anfalon said and turned towards him, just as a startled Jinx toppled down a barrel she’d climbed on top of with a loud thud and an equally loud curse.
“FUCK ME TITS!”
Glen barely managed to stop himself from bursting out laughing and somehow pulled it off.
This being more impressive than his speech although some ‘records’ might tell you otherwise.
> That summer night mighty Arguen Garth, much pleased at seeing the citizens of Sinya Goras gathered to celebrate Naossis Indiscretion -an allegory for everyone being fallible and prone to the same mistakes, be it a god, Folk, or people- stood up and spoke of the future.
>
> He avoided mentioning the past and fan the flames of old grievances. Arguen Garth spoke of a new kingdom birthed, over the ruins of the old. A place for all those wanting to break the shackles of rules that made no sense.
>
> All peoples love profit, Garth said and having fun. They want the freedom to go wherever they want and love who they prefer. Rules must make sense for everyone and he would make certain this was understood by those thinking otherwise. A slave can become someone worth of note, a thief can put his skills to good use and one’s race, or station would never be an obstacle in Sinya Goras, provided he, or she, isn’t harming its people.
>
> A crook is a person that makes a mistake, but isn’t evil, he explained.
>
> You can understand, even rationalize, why one would do the former, but the latter can’t be forgiven. This is your last and only chance, he warned the crowd. I’ve limited time to spend on solving idiotic problems. Embrace the moment and make amends. Don’t do unto others what you don’t want done to you. There is only one rule you need to worry about.
>
> Mine. Don’t cause me problems.
>
> You can make it work, or I would just burn everything down, keep the loot and send you back into the jungle to look for your long lost uncles. The Wyvern thinks I’m being too lenient. He’s very persuasive. So keep that in mind. Don’t make me regret keeping an open mind, or look the fool. I hate that. You have an abhorrent reputation for a reason. Let’s bury that and move on.
>
> This is the time.
>
> I’m told this festival is a celebration of life.
>
> There it is then, let this be your start.
>
> This night on the Monarch’s free-given wine, you all had been given a chance.
>
> Twenty years from now you would tell your old selves and your children that this was it. The moment when Sinya Goras and you became one and the same. A summer night, under the moonlight surrounded by smiling people of all races.
>
> Just leave the drunken part out.
>
> Love, have fun and help me built something, or die for nothing.
“This is the plaguin’ time,” Glen bellowed, caught up in his own bullshit and raised his silver cup high rousing the crowd. “Enough, let the festivities begin,” he finished with a tired smile. “For fuck’s sake them bard cunts appear already drunk!”
He sat down breathing heavy and glared at the head of Metu. “Tell me I don’t pay for ‘em by the darn hour!” He hissed angry.
“HEY!” someone shouted from the back afore the former slave could answer him, his mouth dry and throat hurting from all the yelling. Another answering his call the same way. One more after him.
Three.
Thirty.
Three hundred.
The thousands strong crowd roared and then stopped abruptly, the moment dragging while the inebriated lute player tried desperately to start his fingers working on the strings, whilst looking nervously at the unruly crowd staring daggers at him.
“They are about to jump on that fool, haha!” Glen commented and chugged down the rest of his sweet-tasting wine, just as the lute played three cords in quick succession, the crowd erupting in thunderous joyful cheers. The bard carrying the lute waited for them to calm down curtly and then struck that same tune again, before stopping himself. A nod to allow the double-flute player to step forward into the musicians circle and blow the first notes. It was like a voiceless query in a language long forgotten.
“The Goddess calling for her daughter to appear,” Sen whispered in his ear, her hand resting casually between his legs. “The journey bringing her to the vile Abrakas lair. The moon dipping into the sea,” Hmm, Glen thought not really following her words, as the lute answered the flute’s call and the next moment every flute started playing the same rousing tune, the gathered crowd jumping up and down on the stands and around the pavilion shouting wildly.
HEY!
HEY!
HEY-HEY!
The drums joining after the first turn and the harsh loutish tempo starting anew even louder. This time everyone joined in dancing wild, with feet thumping the granite tiles, hands rapping at thighs with abandon. Every third breath, the flutes and the solo lute stopped playing and only the many drums hidden behind the stands were heard, the sound menacing and primordial, it rattled Glen’s teeth, every instrument starting again after the same interval.
Glen felt the rowdy music penetrating his skin, the light mist rising slowly over the lake glowing and swaying as well, the tempo bone hurting and skin shivering. Sen chuckled, the sound lost over the crowd’s roar, all but the few visitors, getting into it. About three minutes, or an eternity into the stirring tune, every instrument stopped playing but for the lute, the notes touching the leaves, bouncing off the pavilion’s columns and its stands.
It was sensual this part and erotic, light and the night shades mixing together, white, red and bright blue. A scantily dressed Diryel dashed out of the crowd and jumped onto the long beam with a dangerous cartwheel. She kept her balance, a leg firmly planted on the narrow beam, the other pointed at the heavens and her forehead kissing her toes staring at the crowd.
Good grief, Glen thought impressed, just as that long leg curled the wrong way, whilst maintaining her balance and then she was standing upright again. A pause and every limb on her lithe body started responding to each note in turn. A fit leg kicking out, thighs quivering, hips gyrating and her richly decorated arms, painting lines and letters in the air that sparkled and stayed lit in all the colors of the rainbow.
It was magic.
The music started again twice as loud, every instrument blasting away with abandon and everyone mimicking, or even trying to one-up the young Zilan dancing on the long beam. One after the other wild Zilan of all castes spilled out of the roaring, boisterous crowd and danced under the covered in sweat and fully engrossed to the rhythm Diryel.
Two girls.
Two boys.
A priestess and a carpenter.
A stocky soldier and a teen with her smiling face painted blue.
Another four after them.
And then a group of six, one dancing on her partner’s shoulders.
Glen had to shift nervously on his seat, Sen’s hand massaging his hard rod not helping at all. He turned to preach restraint for a couple of more minutes, himself half-ready to abandon the festivities, but caught out of the corner of his eye willowy figures half-hidden behind the mist, swimming in the lake’s still waters.
Glen opened his mouth to ask a hilariously bobbing up and down the stands Fikumin about it, but Jinx rolled out of the crowd, showing as much leg and tit as the wildest of the natives, jumped onto the stands, a rapt Sam Mathews watching her deeply awed.
Jinx walked on the rails, leaped over a blinking Metu and landed before a weirded out Glen. She paused to cover a nipple that had popped out of her leather bra and looked at Glen judgmentally.
That darn thing had the color of her hair.
“What?” Glen barked very annoyed to being put on the spot and equally impressed at the unusual spectacle.
And richness of color.
Jinx pointed a thin finger at the covered Sen-Iv watching the festivities propped against him. “The best Zilan dancer, any Gish and the fairest daughter of the Isthmus are supposed to stand on that beam,” she explained at a blank faced Glen. “Let her dance you cunt.”
Huh?
Glen blinked and stared at his silent wife. “What the fuck is she talking about?”
Sen-Iv slowly pulled her mesh cloak off her and stood up. It pooled at her lovely ankles, the long silver strands hanging from her two-piece outfit stirring when she stepped out of it.
“Damn girl,” Jinx gasped. “Will you dance with us Sen?” She asked her and Sen-Iv looked at him, her opal-eyes smiling.
They had painted Glen into a corner. “Just know I’ll be watching like a god-darn hawk,” he warned them. “So no funny business.”
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What had started as an exotic dance, the music rippling through Goras celebrating crowd, turned into a mystifying experience with even the sternest of characters getting sucked in it. Glen who was anything but stern, found himself unfortunately sitting alone on the stands watching Diryel and Jinx lift Sen-Iv on the long beam and giving her the center spot. Sen raised her right knee forward and then opened it to the side creating the letter P, the music switching between the rattling of the heavy drums, to the flutes screaming afore leaving the lute to harmonize with his wife’s precise movements.
Sen-Iv extended an arm to the side and met a heavy-breathing Diryel’s who had assumed the same position. She did the same with her other to meet Jinx’s, their fingers touching briefly. Then they jumped up as one, landed on their toes. Glen flinched fearing the worst, but the girls kept their balance perfectly and started dancing, moving in rhythm just as Diryel had earlier.
A body turned into three, dissimilar and exotic. Enticing they were, Glen admitted sitting back transfixed at the spectacle, but Sen outshone them to his eyes. Perhaps he was biased, but still Glen felt he wasn’t doing her justice. She had no magic to assist her and no natural physical attributes like the Gish. Sen-Iv had trained every move hard for all her life. There was dedication there to be able to stand toe to toe with the more gifted races of the Realm and beat them at their own game.
Giving her the center spot an always impartial Jinx had acknowledged it. Glen watched his beautiful wife dance her heart out, forgetting the crowd and the many shenanigans that had spilled from the pavilion to the nearby lit streets of Sinya Goras.
> The music played loud that night, the lake waters stirring along, light and shadows creating figures that danced almost as wild as those on its crowed banks. Some said days later, that every time the bards paused to hear the throng’s cheers and delight, the lake’s moving shadows sang along with them.
>
> Ten citizens disappeared that night, but that is a tale for another time.
Glen stepped down from his lonely stand an hour later, the hour close to midnight. He walked by an inebriated Fikumin narrating the adventures of the brave dwarfs of distant past to an enraptured teen Zilan that held him in her arms and an equally preoccupied Sam Mathews tasting the enticing widow’s medicine. Glen had to navigate couples making out in the open, rolling in the sand and even on top the still playing musicians’ stage. Jinx, Maeriel and their monkey fooling around, doing gods knows what and a Horselord chasing a chuckling female around on his horse.
Or a masqueraded male.
He approached the long beam where Sen-Iv now rested in the young Zilan’s embrace, Diryel playing with her loose hair and singing softly under the sound of the lute. Glen paused a moment taking in their beauty. Despite the females being tired and drenched in sweat, the sight of the festival’s best dancers comforting each other under the moonlight, was worthy of lavish praise.
Sen-Iv spotted him watching undecided and waved for him to approach, her eyes gleaming happy.
“Diryel wants to share our bed,” she told him, what he’d guessed already and Glen clenched his jaw and stared at the alluring Zilan Ranger.
“While I find yer offer noteworthy,” he told her not holding back. “I ain’t sharing her with anyone.”
Diryel gave him a coy smile, her fangs showing. “I understand Arguen Garth.”
“Do you?” Glen probed and tended his hand to a standing up Sen.
“Some treasures aren’t to be shared,” the Zilan replied.
Glen nodded and stared at his tired wife. “Hmm. That’s right,” he rustled.
“Are you going to dance with me Glen?” Sen asked huskily.
“I’m taking you to bed,” he told her in a non-nonsense kind of way.
“Earth is our bed on Valimae Lilt, the stars the roof over our heads,” Sen-Iv blurted, but Glen led her away from the pavilion with a snort and a curt reply.
“I’ll take a mattress and save me poor back, thanks.”
Sen chuckled and run in front of him, twirling on her heels. There was a chill near the lake, but the night felt warmer the moment you moved away from the shore. Glen rushed after her, leaving the noisy lewd festival behind, although one could still hear people having their fun in the night.
“Can we talk now?” Sen-Iv breathed on his face, when they entered the hall of his decently lit villa.
Glen bodied her towards the throne-like chair he used, the woman slippery and difficult to pin down. “Plenty of time for that later,” he scolded her, before managing to trap her placing both his hands on the armrests. Sen collapsed on the chair and looked at him passionately. “I’m loosening the pants,” Glen warned her and his wife leg went over his shoulder and pressed on his nape.
Sen-Iv’s litheness was legendary.
He grinned diving into her arms, face burying between her soft wet mounts and the moist dip of her neck. Glen smelled sweat and jasmine oils, geranium, milk, wild orange and a touch of cedarwood powder. He tasted her on his mouth, looked up and felt sharp teeth catching his lower lip and pulling it. A breath and he found her tongue, heard the gems clinking on her torn bra.
Sen gasped and dug her nails on his biceps, the chair creaking and almost coming apart. Glen used one hand to stabilize himself grabbing at the chair’s back, wanting to take the weight off the furniture and prevent a catastrophe, whilst snaking the other under a heavy round breast with a half-a-moan half-a-grunt.
The ‘former’ thief realized how much he’d missed her and it was almost too painful to even process, so he shut his mind down and allowed his baser instincts to take over.
Sen cried out his name in ecstasy and Glen felt his arm getting covered with something warm fast. He pulled away from her panicked, his heart thundering and his ears ringing. Glen stared in his gluey hand shocked, but his clouded mind couldn’t decipher what he was seeing.
All he could think of was, praise be Luthos it wasn’t blood.
Sen was unharmed.
“Fuck,” Glen gasped and rubbed his face hard to snap out of it, his cock unwilling to calm down despite his sudden scare. “I thought I hurt you.”
Sen-Iv gathered her hair in a loose bun and pushed herself up. Her nakedness almost derailing his thoughts again.
“You didn’t,” she whispered looking at him alarmed. Glen grunted and stood back, trying to calm himself down.
“I’ve seen a dream. An accursed seers words ever repeating,” he started, voice coming out a croak. “A horrible nightmare. It comes and goes,” Glen stared at his hand again, licked his lips next and frowned.
“I’m sorry,” Sen-Iv muttered staring at her sandals. “You’ve left me no time for feeding.”
Huh?
“What the hells are ye talking about?” Glen grunted. “You got somewhere else ye want to be?”
Sen covered her chest and shook her head right and left. “I thought you knew. I’ve written you a letter,” she whispered. “You knew and didn’t want to talk about it.”
Ah. There it is then.
Glen cleared his throat, his mind clearing some. He licked his lips again, found the ton of oils she always used and all those new flavors. His stare hardened remembering the dagger’s warnings. It was like poison. “Where’s Ninan woman? I haven’t seen her all day!”
Sen started crying and it shocked him because he’d never seen her cry afore.
It washed his anger away.
Damn it. The fuck are you doing my dude?
Have you gone mad?
“She’s with her,” Sen said and wiped her swollen eyes. “Your daughter. What did you think I meant?”
Fuck.
Wait what?
“I thought you’ve taken a lover,” Glen admitted numbly and smacked his lips, feeling weak at the knees. “I’m a little terrified now, but relieved at the same time. I mean that’s great news right?” he added after an awkward moment and Sen jumped in his arms with an elated squeal. She started kissing him all over the face and Glen felt moisture spreading over his vest.
“I’m leaking again. I made a mess,” Sen whispered embarrassed, just as Ninan started coming down the stairs carrying a small bundle in her arms protectively.
“Don’t worry about it,” Glen rustled his eyes on the small creature approaching them, still hidden in the loyal slavegirl’s arms. “The tailor is a friend.”
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Whoa, Glen thought mesmerized, looking at the tiny girl’s wide curious eyes.
“Ah,” his daughter squawked, when he touched her rosy nose with a finger adding with a frown. “Oi.”
“She has your eyes,” Glen murmured rocking the baby.
“And yours,” a sniffling Sen said softly. “All that gold you love so much.”
The biggest treasure on Eplas and the thief who’d stolen it, he thought finally getting the hidden meaning.
Glen smiled and looked at the emotional Sen-Iv for a long moment. “I can’t believe you thought I would ever reject my girl.”
Both of you are mine.
“I can’t believe you thought I’ve taken a lover,” Sen retorted and wrapped her arms around them both tightly. “Take me to bed?” she murmured sounding exhausted.
“We have to walk up the darn stairs,” Glen replied and kissed the top of her head. His daughter raised her arms, mouth opening trying to speak again, but failing. She did found her mother’s nipple though, so there is that, Glen thought grinning and feeling gratified. “I messed up my foot fighting a couple of lions. Twas quite the adventure.”
“Aww, my brave fool,” Sen-Iv cooed and Ninan gasped in horror, but their daughter found the whole thing very funny and started chuckling happy. Her laughter rang down the empty hall and the villa’s ancient tall ceiling. It reverberated on the painted walls showing kings and queens, lovers and heroes, now long dead. It danced towards the still open main entrance and jumped outside to join the tail end of the great festival of life.
And all the things in nature, the old ruins of the temples and the gods lurking near them, welcomed her into their realm.
> Here she was we all thought, when he introduced her to us. The Celestial Opal’s daughter was a precious gem unto herself. The Goddess had spoken. Arguen Garth’s first offspring would be our Sovereign for good, or heavens forbid, worse. The Realm’s Monarch of all Monarchs and Lussiel Mir his daughter, our Queen of Queens. Looking back to that moment in time, one would quickly realize we were all very young and extremely foolish.
>
>
>
> Events recorded on the last night of Summer 190 NC
>
> by
>
> Phinariel, the Boorish Poet,
>
> Royal Scribe,
>
> Member of the Queen’s Council
>
> in
>
> Apotheosis
>
> (The King’s Heritors)
>
> Later scribbled* prologue for
>
> Chapter III
>
> Esselda Anon
>
> (An Elderblood Son)
>
>
>
> -
>
>
> Entered into the Royal Library,
>
> In 210 NC,
>
> Circa 3416 IC –consolidated- (3rd Era)
>
>
>
> -
>
> *Phinariel’s long epic poem ‘Dragonblood & Elderblood’ was probably written before this prologue to the third chapter and has a distinct difference in tone. The later addition, perhaps even the whole chapter itself, a likely political entry far removed from the historical record.
>
>