The port was rather sizeable, not just part of a trade route between Formadgo and the Alfen coast. North of Formadgo were many smaller countries, borders naturally drawn by the seasonal rivers of meltwater that fed into the large, permanent rivers, which were collectively known by many names. The closer the language, the more reverent the name, hence why the Schtish simply called them “great rivers” while the Lapdosians called them “mother rivers”. One of those rivers fed into the ocean not too far north of the port, bringing merchants on the currents.
That was what Sammy told Julie while they waited to board a different ship. The one they had been on would head back to Alfen once it loaded up with fresh goods, horses sold. So Sammy had followed the sale, looking for a ship taking horses north, and she had found one. It helped that Formadgian was more commonly spoken here.
“We shall travel another week by ship,” Sammy said, thinking aloud. “Truly, I’m not sure how the meltwater rivers fare this time of year. We may be lucky and have another week’s break.”
“I don’t know if Hope will think that’s lucky,” Julie said lightly.
Sammy chuckled. “She takes after her rider, full of vigour.”
Julie didn’t even consider that Sammy hadn’t meant it in that way, her heart beating that little faster, again impressed at how Sammy could turn any topic into flirting. At the least, she was thankful Sammy hadn’t likened her to a “great river” instead.
“Aye, misses, ready to board?” the first mate asked, his Formadgian heavy with a Lapdosian accent.
Sammy had always been quick at noticing accents, few visiting the Royal Palace to speak their native languages, but his one was noticeable for making him sound feminine: the way he pitched up words was something young ladies did in Formadgo, bobbing their heads as they spoke. He might not have bobbed, but it amused Sammy for a moment nonetheless.
However, she had something more important to clarify. “Madams, please, we are wed.”
His eyes showed his surprise, then he glanced down, checking their hands. No doubt he looked for rings, instead saw entwined fingers. But people wouldn’t see what they didn’t consider possible. “Good to keep yer jewels away, and sorry, madams,” he said, tipping his cap this time.
Sammy smiled. “My wife and I will board now,” she said, standing up, Julie following. Leaving him behind, she translated for Julie, adding on her humorous observation.
After a long moment, he shook his head and caught up with them to lead the way.
The ship was similar to the last with a bustling crew. It wasn’t easy to row upstream, especially with the wind mostly coming from the north, and there were fewer horses, the price Sammy paid for their places suitably higher too.
There was one benefit: it wasn’t so bare-bones. Sammy and Julie had a small cabin to themselves with a single hammock. Rigged for a burly man, they had no trouble both fitting in it, giggling as they rocked, holding each other close. While the world carried on outside of their quaint room, their hands wandered and kisses fell.
By midmorning, they settled into a warm peace with the sea gently rocking them. Though not asleep, there was a haziness, words spoken weaving into dreams.
“I would like to try my hand at making a little windmill for us. Not for flour, but to lift water. Wouldn’t that be magical? A waterfall, just for us,” Sammy whispered.
And those words set alight Julie’s imagination, merging those things together in her mind to make a wonderfully strange picture. She had no idea what Sammy’s idea was, so she simply attached buckets to the ends of a windmill’s arms, imagining it dipping the buckets in the water as it went around, emptying at the top. That looked more funny than magical, but she kept her thoughts to herself, entirely confident that Sammy did have a magical idea in mind.
“I can’t wait,” she whispered.
Lunch and dinner were had at small ports along the coast, plenty of fish on the menu, then they retired to an inn. While they had crossed over into Kitoongu, Formadgian was the language of commerce in the north—“Which is fortunate, my Kitoonguese limited to greetings, introductions, and pleasantries,” Sammy said.
“That’s more than me,” Julie said.
Sammy smiled sweetly, Julie smiled sweetly back, then the room’s silence became heavier and heavier, distant sounds growing ever more muffled until all Julie could hear was her own heartbeat in her ears, Sammy’s smile now looking inviting. Not one to turn down such an invitation, Julie stepped close, tilting her head just enough for their noses to brush past, lips meet.
They weren’t like children any more. A kiss wasn’t enough, their hands finding the places on each other which each most liked to hold, not for how it felt, but for how they could make each other sound. The little gasps, the deep breaths, the throaty groans. Kisses like matches left fires where they fell that soon engulfed them in desire. Julie fingers had grown nimbler, taught by necessity how to quickly help Sammy out of the cumbersome clothes. Sammy could undo buttons one-handed and with either hand, never knowing which hand she would be more reluctant to remove from her wife.
When there was nothing left to take off, they stopped, simply staring into each other’s eyes. The eye of the storm. Julie still felt so vulnerable standing like this in front of such a beautiful woman, knew how she couldn’t compare. But Sammy had done such a good job teaching her that, yes, they couldn’t be compared. It made no sense to even try. Whether or not Julie thought herself good enough, that was for Sammy to say, and Sammy had told her a thousand times in a hundred ways that, yes, she was.
“I love you, wife,” Julie whispered.
“I love you too,” Sammy whispered back, her sweet smile all the sweeter when she unashamedly smiled with her whole body.
The night was long and short.
In the gentle light of daybreak, they stirred. Every day, the sun shone longer, and they were also heading north. Gone were the days that started before dawn and ended after dusk. Julie, in particular, found it strange, so used to drilling at whatever hours the superiors told them to.
That gentle light suited Sammy, Julie thought. She saw the beauty of pale skin in how the sun’s warmth lingered, how the little marks she left behind last night stood out, albeit little left of them, Sammy quick to heal. In contrast, her own skin glowed, purplish patches where Sammy hadn’t held back. But Sammy had been conscientious in placing them, left them where clothing covered.
Julie smiled to herself. There was still something incredibly arousing about marking each other, something secretive, exciting, knowing how embarrassing it would be to be discovered. Yet there was also just something demeaning about it, like a farmer branding his cattle. Julie didn’t hate thinking of it like that. Sammy was so beautiful, so brilliant, Julie couldn’t think of anyone better to belong to.
Her hand idly coming to her neck, Julie touched the ribbon, like a collar, and shivered. She couldn’t think of wedding rings the same way any more.
As her hand then trailed down, she settled into thoughts that were more warm than heated. Her skin, dyed by the sun, sparsely freckled, which Sammy liked. “I’m jealous of the sun which has kissed you so much already,” Sammy had once said before covering every bit of Julie’s body in kisses—even those places the sun hadn’t kissed. It was natural to like the things her wife liked, worn down by countless sweet words. Even her small breasts were treasured.
Julie still didn’t think of herself as beautiful, though. The self-discovery she’d made travelling alongside Ma had instead made her accept that women who liked women didn’t have to like “beautiful” women. Life was more than those stories, stories that were all the same, full of pale princesses and hunky heroes, where beautiful and handsome were good and everything else was evil.
As for why Julie was so thoughtful this morning, Sammy soon asked, an amused smile on her lips, having silently observed the funny faces Julie had made.
“I think it’s my birthday soon,” Julie mumbled.
“Well, it’s the sixth of Nouptber,” Sammy said, her mental calendar impeccable.
“Oh.”
That all Julie said, Sammy eventually asked, “Is it soon?”
Breaking into a smile, Julie awkwardly said, “It was two days ago.”
Sammy broke into giggles too, pulling Julie in for a hug. “Happy birthday, wife,” she said.
“Thanks,” Julie said, unsure what else to say.
Thinking aloud, Sammy said, “We’ll have to buy you a present at lunchtime and give you a special treat tonight.”
“You don’t have to,” Julie mumbled.
“Mm, but I want any excuse to spoil my wife,” Sammy replied.
Julie again had no answer, knew any she tried to give would only end up in further embarrassment.
Of course, Sammy didn’t need help embarrassing her wife. “You know, now you are eighteen, you may visit brothels. I wonder if we could find two to entertain each other for us to watch?”
Not only did Julie have no answer, she couldn’t keep the question in her mind, far too stimulating for this early hour. “W-we don’t want to be late,” she said, getting out of bed.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“So eager to watch? Perhaps we should have asked Ma and Goyani if they minded,” Sammy said lightly.
Julie’s face might not have shown it clearly when she blushed, but there were paler parts of her body that showed when she flushed, Sammy very pleased with herself. Having played around enough, Sammy joined Julie in dressing. Just that, the last step, they carefully undid the ribbons around each other’s necks and neatly placed them back in the packs, safe until next needed.
Breakfast was porridge or bread with lard, both choosing the porridge. It was thick and slightly seasoned with a fish sauce to taste a touch salty, Sammy wondering if it was a preference for those along the coast, but there was some boiled milk to go with it. Lapdose didn’t just export cheese. Though the milk was pricey, it went well with porridge and made a change from the weak alcohols they’d mostly drunk, so Sammy had to splurge, today Julie’s day to be spoiled.
After eating, they headed to the ship. Most of the horses had been loaded back on, but not all, giving Julie some time to look over Hope and Faith. While she did, the first mate came to talk to her and Sammy.
“Madams got here early? Yer not so soft, aye?” he said lightly.
Sammy looked at him with a polite smile, giving no reaction to his joke. “My wife and I have travelled a lot. This is our sixth time by ship,” Sammy said.
Again distracted by Sammy referring to her wife, he awkwardly smiled back, not really hearing what she said. “I see,” he mumbled.
With nothing else said, Sammy soon turned back to watching Julie, her eyes a little low as Julie leaned forwards to brush Hope, the fabric of those trousers taut. Even without knowing where Sammy was looking, the first mate felt awkward and dismissed himself.
As much fun as the day before had been, and though today was a day to spoil Julie, Sammy reluctantly set herself to another task once they boarded. Having spent the last several days at ease, she practised with the blessings.
Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun with it.
Julie gasped, holding back the pained cry, her nails digging into the back of Sammy’s neck, eyes watering. The next moment, the pain washed away, a cool feeling of wetness touching where the warm wet of Sammy’s bite had just been. Letting out a shuddery breath, her tears spilled, lapped up by Sammy.
“Another one?” Sammy asked.
“Mm,” Julie said, then remembered she had to say it for Sammy to do it. “Yes.”
Sammy moved her mouth over, hot breath tickling Julie’s skin, prickling, an itch that went deeper than the skin, feeding into her pounding heart. “Well, you are the birthday lady,” Sammy whispered. She kissed once, twice, then lightly bit, just enough to make Julie gasp and leave a mark.
After all, it wouldn’t do to play with fire on a ship, never mind what trouble she might cause with godsbane. That only left holy water.
Of course, they didn’t just play such intense games. It began as simply tending to Julie’s marks, rolling up her trousers and long-sleeves, then escalated once those ran out. After indulging in the biting play, Sammy moved on to bullying Julie’s lips, leaving them swollen, then healing them with wet kisses. That had been a stroke of brilliance from Sammy, realising she didn’t have to make the holy water appear in her cupped hands, the tip of her tongue just as good.
When midday neared, the two cooled off, holding hands and quietly talking. Disembarking for lunch, their appearances gave away none of what wifely enjoyment they had indulged in.
The sailors took a long break through the hot hours after rowing most of the morning, so there wasn’t a need to stay near. They bought some bits and pieces to go with fresh bread, a small bottle of wine too, then found somewhere quiet to sit in the hilly woodland behind the port.
“Happy birthday, my beloved Lia,” Sammy said, tapping Julie’s metal cup with her own, a clangy chime ringing out.
Julie never knew what to say at these times, had been thankful that birthdays weren’t much of a celebration back at the barracks. But, now, she was glad to at least have had one with her wife. “Thank you,” she said softly.
They only drank one cup each, but Sammy noticed the difference easily, Julie’s silly smile so rare. That was why she started with the toast, though, giving Julie plenty of time to sober up.
Speaking of toast, they went for an old “delicacy” from their time camping in Dworfen. Sammy set up a pot and put a rack over the top, then put their sandwiches on the rack, before finally starting a fire in the pot with some water, another pot on top to keep some steam from escaping. Once one side was toasted, she carefully flipped them over.
It had taken a lot of experimenting to get good results, especially as they’d used hard tack, not much bread to be bought outside of the east coast of Dworfen, but eating the dried meats and hard tack “porridge” for days on end had driven Sammy crazy. This bread wasn’t so dry, nor were the ingredients inside, so she focused more on grilling than steaming. With better food, it was easy to get something good out of it.
Still, as Sammy handed Julie the food, she said, “I’ll learn to cook.”
Those few words were enough to keep Julie occupied as she ate. Warm words. She hadn’t considered who would do chores around the cottage, sort of assumed that she would. Princesses weren’t exactly known for their housework. But it was nice when Sammy ordered food for her, thinking she would like it. She imagined it could only be a hundred times nicer to come home to food Sammy cooked for her, saying something like, “I know this is your favourite,” or, “The fish at the market looked fresh.”
The toasted bread crunched, cheese inside melted, sandwich meat juicy. Fresh, earthy air surrounded them, a change from the salty sea air. It wasn’t so muggy in the trees’ shade either, cool. No distant shouts or creaking boards.
Julie enjoyed her birthday lunch a lot, such peace perfect for being a bit tipsy and eating something indulgent.
After the food, she lazily watched Sammy practise with godsbane. It was similar to before, just leaving cups of holy water some distance away, then summoning little zaps of godsbane as close as possible. Sometimes, Julie’s blinks stretched out, listening to Sammy’s measured breaths and sliding into a nap, but her training was ingrained in her, never quite passing out entirely. She still felt refreshed when it was time to return.
“Is the wine lingering?” Sammy asked, helping Julie up.
Julie smiled and shook her head. “I’m just a bit sleepy,” she said.
“Well, we could always sleep on the ship and stay up through the night,” Sammy said, sounding oh so innocent while both knew how full of indecency such words were meant.
The heat in her cheeks nothing to do with wine, Julie said, “Maybe just a nap.”
Back at the ship, they boarded early, relaxing in their cabin while the sailors gradually returned, soon after setting sail. Amidst the muffled shouts, splash of oars, Sammy softly hummed a lullaby. Julie didn’t fight the drowsiness, snuggling into her wife’s arms and falling asleep amongst the familiar scent. Sammy soon joined her wife in slumber.
So the afternoon passed, the two only waking in the late daylight hour, a sailor knocking on their door and saying, “We’s pulling up t’ tha dock now.”
Sammy stirred enough to loudly say, “Understood,” which, in turn, roused Julie.
The city they arrived at was rather large, glued to the coast and to the broad river feeding into the sea. So broad was the river that, from the ship’s deck, the other side of it was barely a blur on the horizon.
As for the city, it was the trading capital of Kitoongu and called Cecky. Most of the river ships started or ended here and a few overland routes headed this way to bring southern goods north and northern goods south, usually going to the inland sea of Formadgo where they would be ferried off towards Sonlettier and Gyalty, some intrepid merchants going all the way to Schtat. Those were the main destinations, but smaller countries here and there would profit along the way.
Sammy knew of this as an exercise in studying. With how the great rivers swelled and shrank, bringing rich soil downstream, the northern river trade was known as the Silt Road, in older times common for merchants to transport wagons of fertile soil to Formadgo for farming. That practice had died out, but the name lingered in history books.
Walking out the port, Sammy and Julie were greeted by a mismatch of buildings, little alike between them. The town grew with whatever was at hand. One building was made of bricks, its neighbours stone and wood, some buildings patched up with planks from old ships. Most were one or two storeys, but there were ones here and there built as tall as five storeys, not that Sammy would dare enter them, even giving them a wide berth. Few roads were paved at all, the rest simply dirt hardened by stamping feet and hooves.
By the port, the smell wasn’t too bad, but, the farther into the city they went, the worse it got, horses commonplace and the natural result of having horses there too. Sammy was tempted to hold a small fire in front of herself and Julie to help deal with the stink, but her nose soon gave up and she guessed Julie’s had as well.
Then there was the noise, a constant barrage of haggling and hawking. Wide streets were lined with stalls and blankets laden with wares, both common and rare, everything from fruits to jewellery to books. One street spilled over with the scent of food, Kitoongu known for whole hog roasts, and the relative closeness of Cecky to Alfen meant dried spices weren’t uncommon, other streets also fragrant.
It was a very strange place for Sammy and Julie. Unlike other large cities with their burgeoning bourgeois, there was little of that here. Money flowed through Kitoongu and there was nothing to catch it. Once merchants could, they moved south, business better down there. The people were poor, but friendly, keen to barter and haggle, and often living day-to-day. How much they had to eat was based on how the day’s business went, usually enough that no one had to starve.
But there was one problem in that most of these city dwellers only spoke Kitoonguese. It took Sammy and Julie a while to find a more middle-class district, inns there for foreign traders.
“Shall we stay in for the night? I’m not confident I can haggle with the restaurants,” Sammy said.
Julie, as always, didn’t particularly care. “Sure.”
So they stayed in their quaint room, Sammy having made sure to purchase a couples’ room for the night. The bed was spacious and there were scented candles, a pleasant smell of pine trees in the air, even a shaving of soap coming with the bucket of hot water. Sammy thought that was rather brilliant business sense, albeit likely for flings rather than wives.
Whatever the reason, Sammy wasn’t going to turn down this gift.
They ate once their hunger settled in, the food on offer not particularly great when it came to texture, but heavily flavoured. Back in their room, they bathed, the bit of soap going far in taking off the stubborn grime, then Julie watched as Sammy carefully shaved. No sooner had Sammy put down the razor than Julie’s fingers ran down her wife’s legs, enjoying the smoothness.
“Anything else I can do to make your birthday more enjoyable?” Sammy asked lightly.
Julie’s gaze slowly travelled from Sammy’s toes to eyes, caught there, staring, before she finally lowered her gaze to her wife’s neck. “Our ribbons,” she whispered.
“Of course.”
The night was loud in the city, people wringing out every second of daylight before having dinner and heading to bed, ready to wake up early and work another day. But Sammy and Julie eventually slept soundly, comfortable in each other’s arms.
In the morning, they ate a modest soup—Sammy suspected it was simply flavoured water—with bread, then spent a little time perusing on their way to the port. Sammy looked for something nice, but nothing caught her eye in a reasonable way. Of course, she could have bought Julie something like a pretty necklace, but that wasn’t really a suitable gift while still travelling. If anything, she thought Julie would appreciate dried and spiced meat more.
So they arrived at the ship with no extra purchases. On board, they checked the horses, Julie brushing off the loose hay stuck to them after their meals—nowhere near to graze. Satisfied, they returned to their cabin.
“From what the captain told me, we shall arrive at their destination in two days,” Sammy said.
“Up the river, right?” Julie asked.
Sammy nodded. “To the Kitoongu capital. From there, we can hopefully find another ship, otherwise we may have to take a day or two to find a good map and plan a route.”
The way Sammy spoke, Julie couldn’t stop the roiling emotions from bubbling up. In a small voice, she asked, “And it’s not much further to the Corrupted Lands from there, right?”
“Mm. If the rivers are suitable, a week by ship and then a couple days by horse will get us to the frontier towns. Beyond there, I dare not bring the horses onto the snow and ice, so perhaps a week by foot. It’s unclear where exactly Lilith awaits us, but, even now, I feel… a pull. If that isn’t her, I cannot imagine what else it is.”
Julie nodded along, then settled with her head bowed, eyes prickling. A couple of weeks. Even if they didn’t find a ship, there was no way it would take them months. Their journey would be over before Sammy’s eighteenth birthday—one way or another.
Trying not think of that, Julie held her wife tight.