Elven Maledictia Ch. 02

CHAPTER TWO: OATH WEJEMAHALRIAR.

Fifty years before Vuli and Bera reunited.

I arrive at the Farmhouse past daybreak, rubbing the sore muscles on my neck while glancing at the small, two-floor, three-bedroom shelter which used to house one of the most powerful people on the planet. I don't know about Ruba, but whenever I see the ruler of humanity, my girlfriend's parent, 'farmer's child' doesn't exactly come to mind, no matter how many books I've read on the matter or how many stories Lera has told me of the Village Siyonaqema'Rudulo. Is it a trick? A lie meant to test me, the fifty-year-old Elven Hostage Princess who has lived in castles, and palaces, and towers for most of her life? Cause if it is, the score's definitely not in my favor.

"Are you still trying to keep a tally in your mind, Wejea?" Someone yells from the opened door.

Dozens of meters separate me from her, but I can still see her smile. Her white, flower-spotted nightdress flutters in the dry breeze as she leans on the balustrade's top rail. Rotating my pale green forearm right and left, I lift the blue, polished box at her and she nods.

"A wise woman once told me I can't count my favors to my own cousin; even though he shouldn't be here, at all!"

"We're his best friends, Latumura!" She says. "And we've been gone for a year."

I pass the red-painted barn, grassy ground giving way to brown soil, and I try not to feel guilty. The farm is nice. It's quiet. People seldom disturb us; and the cows are also nice company. We were only planning to stay for a month at the start. The days were falling away, one by one, and at the end, bags were packed, before tragedy struck. Lera's cock hardened and refused to go down. Parceling back to the capital would be a scandal waiting to happen, so we stayed, got rid of her erection the fun way. A month off for my birthday became two, became four, became eight; an excuse always cropping up when we least expected it. Until three hours ago, a year after our getaway had started, when a bright blue light of a malfunctioned Parcel seered its way through our bedroom and woke us up. A friend arrived, and was trapped in the box he used for transport, a kilometer from our house in the direction of the forest.

"Found the box on a literal cliff's edge," I walk up the steps to the Porch, holding the parcel's handle with both hands. "I am not lymphing kidding when I say I almost kicked it down."

"Wejea!"

"Wasn't on purpose. I caught it before he was lost," the Porch creaks under the downed Parcel's weight. "Just don't want to lose this place yet."

Lera rubs at my shoulder. "I know. Neither do I."

"Enough about me. Hope the last three went uneventful. Or is there some dead Sun-Demon in the house that wanted to get their hands on my favorite Mage?" Taking her by the waist, I pull her closer, groins meeting, cocks rubbing, pulsating, sore from the night before but still coming alive.

"Mm. Close. It was actually an entire squad. Beat them all." Her tongue tastes like cinnamon.

I whisper into her ear, rubbing up against her; "and had time for tea, too. My very timely Mage."

"Do I get a reward?" Lera asks.

I bite at the forty-eight-year-old Mage's neck, too soft to pierce, and lick the salty, brown skin in my clutches. Her cock twitches, and mine almost falls apart, the sore cunt below it growing wet. I move with Lera till her back's against the white painted door-post.

Green-skinned fingers, lighter at the palm, envelope her breast, kneading it the way she likes, and a human shivers as she strokes my thigh and waist. I breathe her in, inches away from her face, dick pulsing at the scent of sweat, leap roses, and faint traces of my wiped-off cum. Nosy fingers slip through the hem of my dark orange blouse and slide along my lower back. Warm, despite the chill they sent across my entire being. Her lips traverse the distance between in an instant, clasping onto mine, and my world is cinnamon and butterflies again.

"Hmm... Aren't you too tired for it, Latumvura?" I say after the kiss, fighting the urge to suck on her tongue for only a moment, before I dip in again... and again, a yawn obstructing me at my third attempt. Lera chuckles. "I know I am."

"I'll tell you when I'm too tired," she pulls me closer for another tongue-lashing, far longer than the first four. Another yawn tries to take me, but I stamp it down and continue to enjoy my girlfriend's mouth. "I love you, Wejea," she says in between breaths.

For a second, I am dumbstruck. For a second, I am at the Town Aluthuvelo's docks. Clinging to the lymphing deadbeat. Begging her not to let them take me away. I promised her earlier I'd be strong, that I wouldn't humiliate her, then I saw the ferry, and the Mage King's guards on it. Then I knew true fear, and only one person could protect me from it. My mother. They rip me away from her. Walk me up the gangway, kicking and screaming. The Antidotter turns and walks away. Doesn't look back.

For a second, I hesitate; maybe due to the exhaustion, or the memory that will always haunt me--but it is long enough to realize that I love Lera, the daughter of the King who had taken me away, the best friend I'd known for over four decades after that, but I do not love her in that way. She realizes it too. Knows my hesitation for what it is. I could lie. Salvage what is left of our partnership, but she deserves better than that.

"I love you," I say and her eyes glimmer, hope abundant, before they fall again.

"As a friend," she says, no question in her words.

"As a friend," I say, one foot backing a step, mind a whirlwind.

I start extricating myself from her, hand sliding down her side before moving away, but she pounces on me before the complete separation. Hugs me tight. I welcome her embrace, welcome her tears for the following ten-minute, with my own, before we let go.

Lera clears her throat, rubbing her eyes. "Best we free Ruba from his malfunctioning box. Would be good, speaking to him face to face again."

"Shouldn't we wait till we're rested. We went at it like rabbits after our Parcelling. And our box hadn't even been damaged."

She walks to the box, kneeling beside it. The sky is brighter. "All the more reason to free him from it while we still can, raised libido or not," Lera says, fingers brushing along the upper surface of the blue parcel. "Besides, I've got one more in me before I'm out like a light till nightfall. I can help him alleviate his bliss on my own if you're not up for it."

"No!" I say it more loudly than I intend. "No. I want to help my Umsheja too."

"Good."

I move closer; "Good."

"There's a blanket on the couch. Go get it. I'll open the Parcel while you do."

I nod, giving the woman of my dreams, or the one that was supposed to be, one more glance while tapping at the wooden wall, before I turn, open the creaking door and hurry in, mind not registering the mess inside for all of three eye-blinks. Six bodies litter the hallway beyond the foyer. Corpses by the look of them, adorned in damaged red and golden armor, the sigil of an eclipse emblazoned on most of their breast-plates. Engawamri's sigil. If that doesn't paint a clear picture of who these people were, or at least the host that they belonged to, the crimson, gold-striped horns of varying lengths on their pale foreheads and the black-boned, feather-less wings on their backs surely do. Sun-demons, of the warmongering variety.

Silver glows from behind me, casting a long shadow on the closest corpse. "Unsena?"

A grunt. "B-busy," Lera says. "And friends... don't call each other... love."

Distantly, I remember calling her by the pet-name years before our first date. Whole decades before our first coupling on top of that. I could point that out. "There are dead people on our foyer!" I say instead.

The silver light flashes twice. "My foyer; and we already talked about this."

My eyes try to gaze away from the woman lying before me. "I thought you were lymphing joking!" A groan from beyond the hallway squeezes at my heart. "One of them's still lymphing alive! Do something!"

Another groan, this time from behind me, from a familiar voice, followed by a thud. "The blanket, woman! And knock him back out for me. He's tied up, don't worry."

Ruba's awake. A need arises within me: to go back out and greet the cousin I haven't seen for a year beyond Techna-induced Neurolinks. Not because I want nothing to do with any living enemies our house might habor, surely. What's a blanket compared to a long hug? If the High Prince is cold, my warmth is enough. If he minds a glimpse at his bare skin, then he isn't the Ruba I've known since before our parents abandoned us to the Mage King. There's no need to go further into the house than I already am. No need at a--

An unseen Sun-demon groans again and I, a hostage who's been sheltered from war all her life, squeaks in response, heart pounding louder than the God-Thunder above Gethe'Nerello sea. My girlfriend chuckles quietly a few meters behind me. My former girlfriend. It'll take a bit of getting used to.

"Come see to our dearest Prince. I'll handle the prisoner."

A weight lifts from my back and I sigh in relief and appreciation, before a heavier one takes its place. My role in the war is as a hostage, one of the myriad a bitter King accepted from the Malady Elves when they ended their allegiance with the Sun-Devil and decided to help the right side early on in the war. I do not need to fight. I simply need to exist under my friend's father's boot as a promise that my family's forces won't turn tail and run when it suits them and only them. Ruba was like me before Lera convinced him to enlist. They've handled more situations like this one than I could ever know, and it has always been a strain on our relationship. Not their ends, they've mentioned more than once that I don't have to be like them, but my own. I always run from the fight: back before during the departure when I assured my mother I wouldn't humiliate her, and now when the foe I have to punch to sleep--don't know if it's even possible--is tied up and literally handed to me in a platter. I toss away the burden. I might not be a soldier, but this I can do easily. Hope to the Sun-Goddess it doesn't lymphing blow up in my face.

I tip-toe around and over the scum that thought they could catch my girlf-- very good friend unawares, almost tripping over the third and falling face-first with a thud when my foot is caught on the sixth neck.

I rub my face. Nothing feels broken. "What are you doing over there, Unsena?" My friend asks from the Porch, and I'm about to respond with a chastisement of the title she's used that I apparently cannot when at the corner of my eye I notice a seated figure at the center of the shaken-up living room that had come into view. His leathery wings play with the air behind him, not fully unfurled, while glaring eyes peer at the idiot on the ground. He's studying me, like people on this continent and beyond are wont to do. My horned, pointy ears. My pale green skin. He doesn't seem to be as derided as they; but he still spits on the wooden, boarded ground. Before I know what I'm doing, I crawl away from him, hips wiping at the floor till I have the wall at my back and my pocket knife in hand, aimed at the tied-up man.

He says; "Careful. Wouldn't want to hurt yourself, Futuza'Doshili." Turn-coat.

I thrust the knife at him. "Quiet, F-fascist. Lest I help you join your comrades in the plane above."

"My father was a commoner before he became the Sun-Devil you all love to hate. You belong to a millennia-old dynasty that silences any among your kind that even talks about choosing their own leaders. The Continentas are no different, and neither are most of the other World Dynasties. He just wants to show you all a different way."

"By demanding we make a Planet King out of him and starting a war that has claimed millions because we refused? By breaking into my home to kill me and mine? Tell me: How is that the better path."

"We've abided by the law of the civil. Fought none of your peoples but the soldiers. You were not our reason for coming here."

"She's off-duty."

"She's a General who left her post unmanned to fuck her wife for a year. No papers of leave were filed in her part to justify it. Trust me, I checked. My mission is legal."

"Your mission is failed. You'll spend the rest of your life behind bars because of it. Because of the chaos you and your family have unearthed. Engawamri will lose and follow you there in time, maybe even share a bunk. And the world will change one nation at a time; let the people decide who they want to rule them, but it won't be because of your Sun-Devil's or my Mage-King's bloodletting. Only peace can yield the type of leadership you seek. Talking. Listenin-- why do you have an erection?"

"Maybe I'm just into diplomats."

Me. A diplomat. I wish. His cock twitches, throwing the only fabric Lera allowed him to keep, a black loin cloth, from above it and giving me a show. "Dull it down, or I'll cut it off, then."

"After a whole speech against violence."

"A speech for your interests. I only care for something else at the moment."

"How I taste?"

I stand from the ground; move closer as I say; "How you scream. What you would've done to the woman I loved, and if I can replicate it on your person," his cock twitched again. "Are you enjoying this, Sun-demon?"

"Trust me. I wish I could do anything but."

"Explain," Close enough for my knife to hover over his tied-together knees, I say, waiting for the man to try some ill-conceived form of an attack.

"We parceled here. Consequence of an impatient Squad-leader. And my libido is already high at the most mundane of times, let alone after a spatial box runs me dry."

"Thought your lot and the Sun-Angels could fly in the night? Isn't there a whole genre of sports based around that?" My knife is at his neck, held there by a hand that mercifully does not shake. I try my best to keep my gaze on his face, not the throbbing monster below.

"Each of which requires sexual contact to lend us the flight power that the night-sky could not. And all of us save one were straight, so?" He shrugs as best he could with a knife at his neck and his limbs in knotted ropes.

A single glance down. It twitches again, and my breaths come fast. I'm not proud of it. "Do you happen to be the one?" I ask. Why am I asking?

"The one died first. Know his husbands. Going to be a hard talk. I happen to be the impatient Squad-leader, though, if you're into that sort of thing." There's precum leaking from its head, gold and luminous. My own cunt responds in kind, wetting the panties beneath my jeans. Why do I want to fuck him? What's wrong with me?

"Are you planning to escape, little man? Cause the only way you'll speak to any of yours again is if the war ends."

"I'm a son of Engawamri. A prince of my people, though I was born before he was elected into office. The Mage-King won't just put me in a Wellness facility and forget I exist. He'll do what he's always done to the children of his enemies. Either keep them as trophies or use them for barter."

Trophy. Is that what everybody sees when they look at me? A woman who can't defend herself? A symbol that the Malady Elves bent the knee to a human mage? All because of her; the mother I barely remember; the architect of my prison, though I've made it as comfortable as I can, filling it with friends and family. We'll win the war, I remind myself. We'll win, and no one will be able to keep me shackled any longer. Not the Mage King. And not the Antidotter. No one's trophy, to be picked up and peered at.

"Have I said something which offends you, Futuza'Doshi--" my knife flies up and cuts at his jaw and cheek, shallow enough to avoid stitches. Its sharp edge brushes against an eyelash, tip aimed at the demon's eye. I do not need to see his cock to know it has twitched again.

"Maybe you're lonely, being the only one left alive in your sorry squad. Maybe you could do with a reunion."

"Please. My diplomat can't even hurt a lymphing fly. How are you supposed to murder an unarmed prisoner of war?"

Despite myself, I grow wetter at his insults. "I'm not your diplomat," I breathe out.

"Would you like to be?" Red blood oozes down his neck and chest. His long dark hair frames a perfect face, despite the injuries and the fatigue. I ache to touch it, to enjoy him, knowing it'll never be love. I can't be his forever, though the man does need to let off a parcel-sized bit of steam, and who am I to refuse the role of outlet in such a task; to refuse being his for but a day. Could be more.

The knife leaves his eye-space, flying to my tongue, and cleansing itself of the thin sliver of blood coating its blade. Tastes like tempered iron. "Can't help you in your sorry state. Only one thing can persuade me to untie you."

The challenge hangs in the air. There can only be one assurance I'm referring to. One way to save his life. To make sure it continues despite my decision to fuck the Sun-demon Lera had made a prisoner of only hours before.

"What, like an arranged marriage?" Sun-goddess, he's actually considering it.

"No. You can marry anyone you wish, as long as you keep me happy."

"As your slave?"

"As my vassal. My employee. I have access to my funds back home, you know. Can make you a very rich man."

"I'm a Prince."

Kneeling down in front of him, I start cutting off the ropes holding his legs together. "My prince, if you co-operate. The Mage-king's if you don't, and I doubt he'll pay you by the hour."

"It'll be desertion," his legs clench while I rid them of their captor, the bruises left as their reminder poking at my heart. Look at me, sympathizing with the enemy, but Lera really is a harsh mistress.

"You're already our prisoner."

Clenching turns to stretching, and I find myself massaging the shadows of his captivity. "Treason," his voice wavers, caught in the pleasure of my touches, I hope. The good thing about being friends with warriors, you learn how to touch their hurts without causing more damage.

"I'm not a soldier. Whatever you help me with, it'll have nothing to do with the war." My hands move up to his thighs, parting them, so I might be closer to him.

"And what exactly will I be helping you with?"

Moving into the vacated space, I breathe in the scent of his sex. "I already told you, my warrior prince. Making me happy."

"I need specifics."

I let out a breath, pondering, too weak to shake his pole like a palm tree in a storm, but strong enough to make it twitch again. Make him gasp. "It's about time I start thinking about the future. Whether the war ends today or a century from now, whether I stay at the Mage-king's court or return home to my mother, one thing is clear. Most of the people I meet, most of the people loyal to them, are strangers to me. I need my own people. What better way to start than with a General of my own? A General who can fuck me in the night, while helping me build in the day. On top of that, I need training. To learn how to fight."

"For someone who claims they want no part of conflict..."

"I already am part of it. As a hostage. But I swear to you; I will not make you battle your own kin. I won't."

He glances up at the ceiling. I continue to caress his hips, inches away from the Phallus which would be mine. "I'm going to need a more binding assurance," he says.

"It can be part of the Bonding Oath."

"And what if I want freedom?"

"You'll be as free as I."

"What if, at one point in it, I've done all I could, and I want to go home? Build my own house."

My fingers find the creases between groin and hips, pressing at them, my own cock begging for attention.

"Soul bonds are forever. Wouldn't hurt, having an alliance with a potential King, provided your people don't kill you first."

"Provided... that."

His shaft feels both heavy and soft on my cheek, and nose, and lips. I kiss at the midpoint, revelling in the sigh he lets out. Sliding my hands up his hips, ribs, and belly, I find the thin rivers of his blood, crossing them, so my hands might mark the rest of his abdomen in red. For some reason, I worry. Was he slowly dying as I made my way with him? Were the cuts actually deep enough to kill? Was he going along with whatever I had to say, cause he simply wanted me to heal him? The worry subsides under a definite truth. He has a very guileless personality. He would tell me if he were about to die. I would not lose him after a day. After a thousand days. He would be mine until the stars collapsed.

I lick his glans, salt, and sweat, and lemon body wash envelopes my tongue, before I wrap it in my mouth. My eyes roam upward till they lock with his own, wide and focused. I suck, and they close without delay, demon-hips bucking. Almost laughing, I get a hold of myself, focusing on the matter at hand; closing my own eyes and leading the rest of his cock into my cave. For the next few minutes, there is nothing but the motion and the pressure. Up and down. Soften and tighten. Tiny grunts and hoarse moans that made my cunt leak and my dick jump within their confines. I could feel eyes on me, though I know they couldn't belong to my Prince. I open mine, just to be sure, and am proven correct by my findings. His head is leaning upwards, connected to heaven, eyes covered. A soft creak of wood a few feet behind me. From the living room's entrance. I could stop what I'm doing and gaze back in shame at whoever it is between my friends, for it is surely one of the two, or I can continue tasting my newest lover's cock. Soon enough, the glare fades and I hear whispers and steps as they grow quieter, moving up the house's steps till they're barely discernable a floor above to even an Elf's ears. The wet pleasure meat in my mouth gathers the rest of my wandering concentration and I continue slurping, tasting the forming precum.

More minutes pass. My jaw aches, but continues its tender service. I cup his hairy balls, playing with them as my saliva continues to drip toward the swollen scrotum. Sensing the end approach, I trace the veins on his shaft with the tip of my tongue. A hand combs through my golden hair, pushing me onto his cock. A hand. My eyes swivel open, and I'm ashamed to say, I almost bite down in shock. Almost. A smirk plays on his lips as he massages my scalp. Alright; Lera sucks at tying knots, who knew? Or maybe I lymphed up by removing the bonds on his legs. Gave him more leverage? Doesn't matter. The prisoner is free, and could snap my neck at any minute, and for some reason, my cock groans at the possibility. His other hand finds my cheek, caressing it as a lover's would. A trick, to get me comfortable? Useless. He already has me where he wants me, if he so desires my quick death.

He nods at me and I gasp, muffled by the enemy cock prodding at my throat. He sighs at the sensation, and I can't help but feign another gasp. And another. And another. Soon enough, I'm blowing his dick once again, one hundred percent adamant I should be shouting a warning to my really loud and horny friends a floor above us instead. Make my death matter. Only, I get the feeling he could've already killed me if he wants to. That the opportunity for a deal between us is still as alive as I am.

The gap between his legs grows narrower, inner thighs pressing against my sides and breasts. Both hands are playing with my scalp, controlling my motion up and down his cock as best they could. He speaks, but whatever he says falls on deaf ears. His dick is mine. No matter what he does, it belongs to me. Holding the base of the shaft with my green-skinned index finger and thumb, I move downward till my lips kiss their side, and his glans invades my throat. I stay there, holding my breath, scratching at him with my tongue, and soon enough, am rewarded with a boomy moan, the buck of his hips and the pumping of his fluid directly into my tube.

The need to cough knocks at my door like a battering ram, but I persist, moaning around his pipe, feeling it jolt and vibrate in my mouth as it continues to deposit its spend into my throat. His sweaty hands cling to my head like tape, pressing me against his groin, treating me like a cum rag. My ears ring, but I can still hear his pleas beyond it, and my friends' yells beyond them. Safe to say, Ruba's going to be well. Some cum leaks into my mouth, spilling out onto my fingers and his balls with my spit. My lungs beg for air, but I want his seed more. A few more seconds of his spurting before I finally ring the cock dry and its heaving owner tries to remove it from me. I suck it out, slowly, making sure it hurts before nipping at the head gently and letting it see daylight. I lick my lover's spent stick once and twice before finally, mercifully, coughing and filling my lungs with air.

"Was that last... part really necessary?" A voice asks from above me once I'm done with my bout of consequences.

"People need to breathe, demon," I grin.

"You know of what I speak," he says. "And the name's Luxu'Sudumran; but my favorite cumdumps call me Lusu."

I punch his thigh, and he lets out a yelp. "Wejea. Do we have a deal or not?" I ask between heavy breaths.

"Get on the couch."

My heart stops for a second, soft dick growing sturdy. Have I heard the Sun-demon correctly? An exhausted, insecure part of me assumed his orgasm would be enough, secretly hoping for more but not daring to expect it. But is he suggesting what I think he's--

"Did you hear me, Wejea?"

"What gives you the right, huh, to boss me around?"

"Thought you wanted me to service you forever from now on. Be your little whore."

That's exactly what I want, but If I have a list of all I need from him, sex is at the bottom of it. If I need to strike it off in order to have him as my vassal, I'd do so in a heartbeat. I tell him as much.

"I don't need you to strike it off. All I need is you on the couch," he smirks again.

A part of me is relieved. He wants me; doesn't see any of what we're doing as abject humiliation or a form of mockery. He wants to fuck me. My eyelids want nothing but to close, and a headache looms in the distance, but I want to experience this last thing before I let my dreams sweep me away. Him inside me. I smirk and refuse to move, kneeling there in front of the captured Sun-demon. Leather wings unfold slightly, and before I know it, he's gripping my neck in a chokehold, as hard as he could while still allowing me to breathe. A less horny part of me screams alarm, urging me to go for the knife a few feet from me on the ground. The rest silences it, waits for the Prince to continue. He rises from the seat, carrying me by the neck till he's standing straight before his other hand reaches around me and cups my ass, choking hand moving to hold my back, before he lifts me into the air in a diagonal position. A half-erect cock hidden behind a loincloth pokes at my hip as he heads for the wide, cushioned seat that was seven meters away, hugging a wall. I bump onto the rejuvenating member, and Lusu grunts and stops in his tracks.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped that."

"Accidents happen. Sorry. Just know, if you try something funny, there's a whole lot more in store," it's a futile threat. What could a few bumps do to a trained soldier with the Physique of a hero of old. It is futile, but he doesn't laugh at it. A respectful nod is all he gives before continuing to walk. That is how I know I have him. How I know that he has me, for I have to hold myself back from apologizing. Instead, I let my arm reach around the back of his neck for support and smell the strawberry clinging to his bright-red hair till we reach our couch, and he deposits me on it, right on top of the blanket I was supposed to fetch for Ruba half an hour past. Doesn't sound like he needs it now.

"Let me take your clothes off, Wejea," he says, and I almost drench myself.

This time round, I'm the one who gives a nod and nothing else, untrusting of what I'd say. Grabbing my calves and mud-stained boots first, Lusu removes them with ease, rubbing my pale green feet afterwards like an unskilled masseuse, but his touch feels as heavenly as one of the Mage-King's body servants', driving a sigh from my lips and making me lose track of--

I wake up suddenly, body on full alert, head flailing every which way, before my eyes find him at my feet, not even a sliver of worry creasing his facial features as he continues working his amateurish, tender magic.

"You talk in your sleep," he says.

"No military intel, I hope," she stretches her legs onto his chest, letting his touches continue.

"Unfortunately, no. It was half intelligible at best. Something about a Sun-Goddess of Pestilence."

"There are no Sun-Goddesses of Pestilence." There were no other Sun-Goddesses at all apart from the first, Lera's ancestor, and she moved on to the Second Plane millennia ago.

"That's what I would've thought; if there were any Sun-devils before my father became one right before my eyes," he said.

To watch your own father ascend into devilry, as the Angel Enzuraia once bore witness to her mother seizing godhood. To have a relationship as close as that of the Sun-Elf Decaria and his fathers, with his own sire. I myself was born too late to witness my mother's rise into Healerdom; possessed little memory of my brief stay with her and my other mother, the Princess Tembera. I wonder whether they're together now, raising a litter of little tiny elves they love more than me. I wonder if they've already forgotten my very name.

Oh, to be jealous of a Sun-demon I only met less than a few hours ago. How dare he have the better lymphing family. Shaking my head, I curse my bitter thoughts. Maybe I do deserve to be forgotten.

"Should I stop, Wejea?" He asks, already halted, firm, calloused hands still glued to feet that already tasted heaven, and couldn't stand the pause. Against my better judgment, I shake my head, and soon enough, my feet thank me, nestled in paradise.

"Will he still love you, your father? When he finds out you're leaving him for me." I ask, disgusted by the part of me that wants him to say yes, to be as miserable as me. Quelling the bitterness, I know Lusu is too skilled at body language and reading thoughts not to have noticed it.

Focusing his efforts on one foot, the Prince puts pressure on my dorsum with one hand while bending and twisting my toes with the other. A few minutes, he moves on to the next foot, doing the same. "Was already planning on leaving. At any rate, he wouldn't hate me if I went to the Mage-King and told him all his darkest secrets. That wasn't always the case, however. Before my other father died. We were barely close back then. Took a funeral for us to start bridging the rift. You'll get your chance with your own parents, if you want it."

Do I want to know my mothers? To remember their faces, and meet any siblings I might have gained in the decades since I was given away? "I don't know."

"Neither did I. Neither do a lot of people, until they choose."

"Does that make me a bad person."

"You didn't abandon yourself, Wejea. The blame will always lie with them."

Maybe I did. Abandon myself. Forget how to live; How to want myself even if nobody else does. Maybe I--No. If that's the case, I wouldn't have Lera or Ruba, two people I love as much as I do myself, and I do love myself. I wouldn't have gone off to a farm to celebrate my name-day, and stayed here till I celebrated it again yesterday. I wouldn't be planning to secure my stronghold with the man rotating my ankles right and left--a man who I'm starting to like--if I surrendered. I love myself because I try, and I try because I love myself. Wejema'Mahalrai Guhari'Eba, daughter of asshats, Princess of a Kingdom I can't point to on a wordless map, and annoyer of friends. If they can't care enough to remember my name, then the family I've chosen, the family that has chosen me, gladly will.

Lusu smiles, crimson horns and brown eyes glinting in the sunlight. "Looks like someone has found their stride," he says.

"I have. Sounds like you were planning to exercise yours, whether you stumbled upon a job offer from a beautiful, Elven Princess or not. Got tired of war?"

Rolling up my pairs of jeans, and stroking my lower calves, Lusu says, "The opposite. I'm in love with it. Addicted. In danger of losing my soul to it. All of this"--he gestures around the room; making me realize there's no longer a body poking into the room from the hallway--"was to be my swansong. Capturing the Enemy's potential leader should her father perish, and giving her over to Engawamri. Leaving after for my childhood home in the countryside. Retiring from war for good. Not a plan involving a beautiful, Elven Princess employing me, but a very valid plan nonetheless."

My body grew stiff when he mentioned kidnapping Lera and using her as a bargaining chip, but I remind myself that he didn't know me a day ago, not personally; that he lost to Lera, someone who's survived her share of potential kidnappings in her first fifty years of life. I still remind myself, while watching my new vassal and gauging his usefulness now that I know his mind a little bit more. He's not retiring from an injury, but I still have to ask. "Can you still teach me to fight, or is it a sore subject?" I'm not looking forward to training under any of my family's fighting masters, ones who'd report back to them and whose loyalty I would never be able to boast of, and it would take a considerable amount of time to find someone as talented as a Sun-demon General who could give themselves entirely to--

"That part of myself, I will never be able to readily give up. Teaching you what I know won't be a problem," Lera lets out a burst of laughter from upstairs, echoing my own two-front pleasure at both his proclamation, and the chills he's sending up my body with every stroke and press and tap. Chills which are beginning to reawaken my cunt and its need for the man currently exploring my legs with hands I no longer think of as unskilled.

"Good," I say.

"Good," he echoes. "Shall we move forward with the Binding Oath?"

The Binding Oath. A layperson who's never heard of it or the Soul oath would think them the same thing at first acquaintance with their titles. They're not, and people have died permanently, thinking them so. The similarities are there, however, plain as the sun. For one, they're both vastly superior to the more common Absolute Oath, for no other reason than the last is only dependent on the words said and vulnerable to loopholes any of the parties involved might or might not see in the event of making it, while a Soul Oath and Binding Oath know what the maker wants instead of relying on ambiguous words and will not be swayed away from it. For another, they're both linked to an Oath-maker's facets of existence. Most people have seven facets: Mind, Soul, Identity, and Bliss, among others. A Soul Oath is linked and powered by the eponymous facet, while a Binding Oath is linked to a deeper facet, called a sub-facet by some. One a person can only form by merging their Identity and Bliss. Passion, in all its marking and loving glory.

The chasm of their differences is as deep as it is dark. Firstly, only one or a few parties involved need to make a Soul Oath, while every single party in a Passion Binding are Oath-makers. Secondly, A Soul Oath doesn't fully depend on words, but they still must be said for it to function, while a Binding Oath is entirely divorced from speech, a silent marriage involving two or more Passions knowing each other and what they want from each other wholly before making the leap together. Last but not least, a Soul Oath will never require any souls involved to be linked forever, while a Binding Oath results in a permanent bond between two or more Passions that one or all of the Oath-makers can be closed off from temporarily when their Identity, Bliss or Passion as a whole dies, or closed off from forever after they suffer a Permanent Death; that of the Soul first, and every other facet after till nothing remains.

Both Binding Oaths and Soul Oaths are strong and ancient, but only one of them involves non-secrecy as a prerequisite and everlasting commitment as a consequence. It is for this reason that I let out a shaky breath, as though about to kiss someone for the very first time, before saying; "We shall."

His hands are like the lowest of tides, sweeping gently at my legs, stroking them upward till he finds my waist and the button nestled there keeping the cunt and cock he craves from view or touch. He takes his time, letting out a breath before slipping the button off its shackles and pulling the hilly zipper down. Normally, I'd be bored by this sloth-like approach. Past lays that I hold in my heart as the greatest of my sexual experiences were always the fast ones, where I would have no time to ponder what in the lymphing sun was happening before the next step of intimate touches, or kisses, or sticking reared its rushing head. I'd be bored, normally, but this is oddly refreshing. Painful, and teasing, but refreshing.

I watch as he unclothes my lower body, tossing the pair of jeans and dark purple panties to the side before groping my pale green thighs and kissing my pubic stubble, brushing my erect cock with his golden beard before moving upward, slipping into my shirt and kissing my abdomen. Don't really care whether he ruins the fading cloth, but Lera would, belonged to a version of her, long past, a version as thin and less toned as me. I should stop him, for my friend's sake, but I stay silent and watch him as he slithers ever upward like a sex-starved serpent, kissing the rest of my belly, and my cleavage, and the side of my sweaty, avocado-sized breast. Gathering my wits before he finds my nipple, and potentially rips the sentimental shirt as a result, I stop him. Even sex-demons can be gentlemen. He halts immediately, removing himself from the warm confines, and asking if anything was amiss. Knee rubbing at his crotch, and the monster that's already awake beneath his loincloth, I give a nod before removing the shirt, tossing it to the growing pile next to the couch, and bidding him to continue.

The retiring General takes the request to heart, grabbing me by my ass and pulling me closer, and sucking at my teat till it swells, too sensitive to touch, and I have to remove him from it. He doesn't haggle, the edges of his wings brushing my hands, head resting between my breasts and breathing heavily, sharp horns scratching gently at my green skin, and sweaty, heaving chest clinging to my belly. I play with his hair and his scalp, cock grinding against his ridged waist, while the outer lips of my leaking cunt rub against his glans. A few more minutes of this continuous, glorious motion go by before his hand reenters the fray, grabbing hold of my cock and squeezing.

He kisses the valley between my breasts again, slithering upward, ever the cum-starved snake, and reaches my neck, hand continually stroking my dick, pink precum acquiescing to his palm's demands, leaking from my cock--head's slit and staining his belly. I angle myself, so the tip of his shaft enters my lips, and I see the Sun-Goddess' plane open up and shine its soul-light on my bliss. He moans into the side of my neck, before sucking and biting lightly at the green flesh. My vassal likes to suck, I realize, as much as he likes rubbing at my feet.

"Do you want to bruise me, Lusu?" His dickhead twitches inside me, and I take the opportunity to aim it at my tunnel and bury him deeper within me, so that only half of his shaft is left in the open. My fingers wrap around his swollen scrotum, and I begin to jangle them like a chain of house keys.

He moans into my neck, warm sweat mingling with my own, sucking even harder, hand stroking my cock as fast as our joined bodies allow. It hurts, but the pain furthers my own journey to bursting, cockwise. His lips are surely forming a hickey, and my dick will probably be sore when all is said and done, but I'm too far into the sun to care. It's my turn to grab his ass, my turn to push his loins further down onto me. The bones of his knuckles are a wonder to my pubic region, as the rest of his cock is to my green, leaking tunnel. His wings fully unfurl, scorching at the white wall to the couch's side. My cunt squeezes around him like gravity, as his hand squeezes around my cock. Fast. Painful. Passionate. The dam gives way, and a stream of pink semen starts to shoot out my beaten cock, drowning both of our bellies and groins in spurts.

We stay still for minutes after, my hands still on his ass and his face still nestled on the side of my neck, till I come fully alive again, grinding my pelvis against and revelling in the way my cunt pulsates around his buried, swollen cock, and the way it twitches right back, a sexual conversation I want realized in full.

"Is your p-passion up yet?" I ask with a tired voice, mound ever shifting.

"Mine was up... before I even left the chair," he says, warm breath hitting the skin of my neck and sending a chill through me.

Better late than never, I think while caressing his back, and the base of his wing. I think back to my older cousin Vumenzi's teachings. There are two main ways a malady elf can activate their Passion. The boring way, which amounts to spending a lot of time I don't have meditating on my Identity and Bliss facets, gently nudging them till they eventually fuse and form their Child-Facet. I have witnessed both Vumenzi and Ruba use this method, and I was always woken up by someone else to see the end-result finally take shape. I, the long-living Elf with multiple millennia of life ahead of me, am not equipped with the patience required for fusal meditation, but do not fret for my sake, for there is also the fun way, and the first step is all but completed: engaging in intercourse till my Bliss is brimming with Mystic Energy Maledictia.

Looking inward, at my Bliss, at its mystic bank, I survey its stock, not surprised to find it full and ready for the bridging. The amber maledictia is cold, but receptive to my touch. Sending it to my Physical Facet and breaking it down into a mystic energy that my flesh can both hold and use is the easier path, but it is the one I require. I take a bit of the maledictia and send it to my empty Identity Facet, as it is. Not needing to open my eyes, I know both my throat and groin, representative of my Identity and Bliss Facets, are aglow in amber. The maledictia takes to my Identity Facet, and I send the next bit of energy, and the next, and next. Soon enough, half of the maledictia inside me is contained in my Identity, and the other half in my bliss. I take hold of both mystic deposits and send them through the same pathway toward each other's facets. They meet at the middle, have been intimate before so recognize each other, but my word is law in these lands, so they try to fight their way through each other. Some drops here and they manage to get past, but the rest find it hard to go beyond their opposites. I begin to heat up, the energy growing unstable, getting ready to blow me up to smithereens. I take both sides of the maledictia and rescind my old command, collecting them into one again. They are on the same side once more, don't have to violently bludgeon each other to get to where they need to go, but they still need to return to where they came from. But how can they? The energies are one, but half come from one facet, and the other half come from another. Two different bases, one mystic-banks-worth of Mystic Energy, and I've ordered them to go back to one of them. But how does it choose where to go, for it has no mind, no soul, and the ones provided for it are my own, and I'm telling it to do the impossible. But it's not impossible, I send out into the ether of my own existence. How, I hear it ask its God. I answer: If you cannot choose a facet to go to, then there is only one solution, bring both to you. I feel it ponder using my own mind. I feel it put the puzzle-pieces together. It is connected to my Identity and Bliss facets. Has a foot on each side. But how can it--The energy grabs hold of its two homes and starts bringing them toward them. I let out an ecstatic breath, feeling them move closer and closer till they are at each of the pathway's doors. They are confused, brushing against each other, refusing to take the stage. They are facets of my existence. Two, not one. They cannot take the same stage. But you can, I tell them through my Mind, and through it, they answer, how? Be one, I shoot back. But we're two, impossible to be one. You don't know what's possible. Only I know. You can be one, for a time; so become it, now. They are still repelled by each other. But what can they do to refuse. Their attempt at union will surely lead to my destruction. All they want to do is protect me, but this is my land, where my word is law, and my decision has already been made. They use my mind to ponder. They use my mind to come to their own decision. And with consternation, they start to take the same stage. But they're still repelled by each other. That's alright. What did Vumezi always say? Ah, all I need is their agreement, and the mystic energy's agreement. I can do the rest. For this is my land, and the law isn't just my word, it's my touch. I grab hold of my two facets and using the Maledictia linked to both as a binding agent, I smash my Identity and my Bliss into each other, and do my best to keep them in each other, though they don't try to leave, even as they shovel up pain in abundance, even as they start to bleed. In distance, I feel orgasmic tremors rock my physical body while Lusu keeps me in place. I feel a trace of it, but I might as well be an angel in the sky looking down at the earth they bleed onto, drops of their pain striking at the soil and cultivating entire gardens in their wake. I keep them in place, even as the rest of my facets--including my Physical one--beg for the opposite, and at the end of my vivid pain, and my distant pleasure, I am gifted with the pillar I sought. My sub-facet. My Passion.

In an instant, I wake as though from a dream. An angel back on the fertile ground of their own making. And it is fertile. The dick in my cunt, and the glow of my orgasm only seconds before, and the memory of the screams of every single side of me but the ones I was hurting. It's all too much. I punch at his chest, and thrash, and scream until he's out of me, and out on top of me. Standing from the cum-stained couch, I back away from it and him till my ass hits the chair I found Lusu on what seems to be a lifetime ago. The stamping of feet and creaking of wood is the only prelude to my naked friends' arrival in the living room. One look at my naked, green-skinned cousin, and I know he's about to charge at my Sun-demon.

Raising a hand in protest, I interject; "It's not him," he starts running, and I have to dash to bar his path, his erect dick jabbing at my wet, pink-stained cunt. "It's not him, Ruba! I used the fun way."

Breathing hard, he squints in confusion before his eyes widen. "Wejea!"

"What?"

"Remember when you begged us to teach you, and we told you Maledictian Fusing was only for emergencies?"

"Says the guy I had to save this morning because he used a broken parcel." I instinctually move closer to the High Prince, cunt leaking at the continued prodding.

"That was actually an emergency," Ruba says, eyes moving toward Lusu again. Mine do as well, and it is the first time I notice the marks on his chest. "Guess 'using the fun way' explains all the claw marks."

"Lusu," I say, walking toward him, all thoughts of my cousin forgotten.

I reach the Sun-demon, examining the wounds, including the shallow cut I gave him when he was still 'tied up', nothing but a fading line now. "I heal quick It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. I hurt you."

"Not willingly. You were not in your right state." He grabs hold of my hand, raising it up and kissing the back of my fingers. My face heats up in a flush. A growl from behind me ruins the spectacle. "Tell you what. Listen to your Umsheja, only do it when you absolutely need to, and we're all square."

"Done. Guess meditation can't hurt." I hear my screams again. Feel my blood. I can be patient if it means never hurting myself, never hurting him, again.

"Meditation under supervision," pipes an irritating voice from halfway across the room.

I groan in protest, knowing it's all I can do before saying; "Alright. Under supervision. Someone's going to have to keep me awake, at the least."

Ruba breathes in, about to give me a mouthful, before a naked Mage-Princess comes up from behind him, grabbing his hand and winking at me before leading him away. "Leraaaa."

"Leave them to their making up. You owe me for the rimjob I gave you earlier." The forty-nine-year-old elven's cheeks flush as he looks back at me, still being led away like a child.

A groan. "I'll be back. Better be in one piece when I do."

"Missed you too, little cousin!" I yell out, and hear a reprimand from the stairs seconds before a door bangs closed. Turning to look at my Prince, I examine my handiwork again.

"None of that," he says with a smile.

I move nearer to him, taking his hand. "We still have a binding oath to finish."

"That can wait if you're not up for it."

I push him onto the couch, before getting on it, knees on the sides of his thighs, groin an inch above his erect cock, waiting for touchdown. I take it in my hand and aim it at my hole. "I'm up for it."

I wait, gazing into his eyes, waiting for his all-clear, and in a few seconds, he gives it in the form of a nod, dick twitching in my hand before its head greets my wet lips and enters them. We gasp at the same time, sun coming visible from the cover of a dark cloud. Dick rummaging around in his golden bush, I impale myself further onto him till my ass is on his cum-stained thighs. Before I know it I'm hugging my Sun-demon, squeezing my breasts against his hairy chest, inhaling the scent of his long, wavy hair--and shifting against him, so the rays of our sun can shine a little bit brighter. Toned, calloused hands gripping onto my ass, I start thrusting against him, back and forth, breathing loudly into his ear, booming grunts encouraging my speed, sticky skin becoming an obstacle that we climb over the instant we start to sweat. My tunnel clings tightly to the pound of meat slithering through, trying its best to suffocate it like a python, but that only strengthens the beast--swells it further, so the hole has no other recourse but to stretch outward and enlarge around it, before shrinking in again. Out and in, it loops till pink liquid starts leaking out onto my labia, pouring down, and staining his already dirty thighs.

His hand caresses my lower back, sliding up the sweaty terrain, bounding across the ridges of my spine till it threads through my hair, and pulls. I stare at him, pelvis still thrusting, my scalp at his, while a distant part of me remarks that he could kill me now and be out of the house in seconds without my friends ever being catching on till it's too late. The closest version of me, my passion, horny beyond what I think is real, fights back, for no other reason but to keep the train of pleasure running. I trusted him then, he didn't kill me then; I can trust him now. My hands find his chest and the marks of their making. I lean onto him, tunnel pulsating around his drilling cock, as he brings my head in and licks the sweat off my cheek. My now fully erect dick jumps at the touch of his tongue, precum licking from it as our pelvic motion grinds against his lower abdomen. My hand crests downwards, questing along his nipple, and chest and belly till it reaches my poor guy and starts giving the hungry shaft more substantial caresses of its own.

Still in control of my scalp, Lusu licks my chin next, tongue trailing upwards till it finds my lower lip and begins to play with it. My own pink snake stretches forth from my mouth, eager to join the fray, and its counterpart is only as eager to allow it, meeting it tip against tip before they start to lash against each other, giving me a taste of his spit and my own salty sweat. A few minutes swing by before he lets me off my leash and I immediately go on the offensive, lips crashing at his, tongue invading his mouth, and nose sniffing hard as our faces locked.

I continue grinding against him, the cock in my hand close to cumming, and my cunt even closer. His own movements are as erratic as a rabid wolf, in chase of a release just over the horizon. His eyes are closed, at the mercy of his passion but mine are open, unable to look away from his creasing face; unable to miss out on the melting cake I'm turning my lover into. The sun is at its highest, shining blue against our glasses and caps and robes, mightier than any cloud that tries to near it. We let off our shades and present ourselves bare. The sun gazes at us, its children, unclothed and unashamed. It gives out a final cry and implodes.

My eyes have no choice but to succumb to the waves of heat and passion that hit me. I tremble over a seismic earth as it spills its watery seeds into me and I spill mine onto it. My cunt gives one more squeeze at the monster in its clutches before its caught by its own release. His moans are muffled to my ears, stifled by lips and tongue, travelling into and through me till all I know is this moment. Our imploding sun. Our Passions, brimming with energy.

I can't explain it, but I can sense his Passion, and I know he can sense mine. It's time, our moment thunders. I enter him, as surely as he enters me, and I see him fully. A human baby, grown in a hospital from the Soulblood samples of his fathers, but only ever getting to meet one of them because an accident had befallen the other. A ten-year-old, meeting my great-grandmother, Queen Fortuita Guhari'Eba, then only a Princess as young as him, and falling in love. A twenty-year-old man, forced to become a Sun-demon soldier lest his King Gorgonarhken, would kill the youngest of his eight brothers and sister. A Century-old General leading a coup alongside Fortuita and her armies against Gorgonarhken; a coup that ended with the outlawing of aristocracy in Gorgonarhlo, the ascension of a Sun-devil Primus, and the birth of Fortra'Mahalri Guhari'Eba, his oldest daughter, and my only grandmother. I see more, including her death, and the falling-out between her parents as a result of it; including the Engawamri's war a millennia later and a battle meant to fail that would've meant Fortuita's death, had he not warned her and cost his father an alliance with the Malady Elves; including a secret meeting between him and Fortuita a week ago and his real reason for coming here. Not to capture Lera, but to make sure his Granddaughter was still alive. Not my Sun-demon, but Queen Fortuita's, to the very end.

I wake up with a snarl, separating my lips from his, punching at his chest, and backing away from him for the second time this morning, with a far greater reason for doing so this time round.

"Liar!" A door creaks open one floor above, scuttles down the stairs following soon after.

"Look, I know you're mad, b--"

"Mad. Why would I be mad? Do I look mad to you, granddad?"

"That's where I know you from. Fortuita's whistleblower," my cousin says from the door, the area around his mouth stained in white.

"You knew?" I point at him.

"Of course I did," Ruba and the friend next to him both say in unison before glancing at each other.

"You did too?" I ask her, hurt in my voice.

"No one escapes my knots. I interrogated him before you returned with this guy," Lera spanks his ass, refraining from a laugh after he yelps. Despite the situation, I stop my mouth from quirking into a grin. "Did you think I'd leave you with just any prisoner?"

"No," I thought she was just being a wingwoman. "You just left me with my grandfather."

"Great-grandfather," pipes Fortuita's toy from behind me.

"That makes it better, how exactly?" I ask.

"A half-hour ago, you were grinding your cunt on your cousin's dick,"--the cousin's dick in question twitches at the reminder, prompting my already rested cock to start hardening again--" getting ready to stick it inside. How exactly is that different from fucking your grandfather? A grandfather that, might I add, doesn't look like your grandfather at all," Lera crosses her arms around her cum-stained, pear-shaped breasts.

"Sun-demons don't age involuntarily; same as you or any other mage," Ruba says from beside her.

"And he's my grandfather, through Fortuita, who is also Ruba's cousin. The link between our families goes way further back than four generations."

"I meant the fact that you don't have horns on your forehead and wings at your back like he does, not the matter of his age, alright. And elven lineages are confusing."

"Says the Continentian Princess with how many thousand cousins?" Ruba says, and Lera spanks him again, earning another yelp and a drop of precum from the slit of his cock. I'm surprised by the need that arises within me to cross the room and take his cock by hand. Lera beats me to the punch, however, grabbing his dick and stroking while still gazing at me. The hottest woman I've ever seen. Not in love with her, but that doesn't mean I don't desire as badly as I do the cousin next to her, glancing upward at her miraculous touch or the grandfather a couple of meters behind me. Great-grandfather. My great-grandfather.

I look behind me at the winged Sun-demon. His eyes look heavy, as though he does regret not telling about me about our relation soon. I didn't see it then, but it jumps at me like a blood-horse now. How much he looks like them, his granddaughters--my mothers. Through him, I remember their faces again.

"Liar."

"I showed you. Eventually," he says, the lower edges of folded, leathery wings brush against the couch.

"When you were left with no other option but doing so."

I reach the Sun-demon and realize I was walking toward him for the last five seconds. He takes my hand and I let him. "I didn't know how to mention, or I did, and just couldn't go through with the actual telling. No one's fault but my own."

"And hers." I look back at the woman watching me as she stroked my cousin's sex and rubbed at her own.

"I didn't l-lie to you. Just kept a secret that would have had you running for the hill instead... instead of doing what you want. Who you want."

I think back to when I arrived. When I first saw him, wrapped in front of me like a dangerous gift. Would I run if I knew who he was; pretended not to be interested in the man who had schemed with the woman who'd let me be taken to further manipulate me? Oh, she said she wanted to make sure I was safe, but that was probably what she knew Lusu wanted to believe; that he was jumping into my life for a good reason. To keep me safe.

"I'll deal with you two later. Go get a room."

"What--" Lera squeezes, making the speaking Elf halt. "D-did I do?"

"Go. Get. A. room."

Ruba is about to speak again before Lera buts in; "You know I'm right. Best of luck, lovebirds."

We are not lovebirds, I'm about to say, but let it go, watching her lead my cousin away by his cock. Silently, I wonder when I'll get to do that again. One year away and I forgot how much he means to me as both family and bedroom partner. I will have to make it up to him.

"Are you my man, or hers?" I ask, my eyes still on the empty entrance, my rising comrades' footsteps lending me the courage to ask, even as they move further away.

"I will always love her, but I've never been hers. Part of the reason we grew apart, even before she died. There was always someone in the way."

"Now it's me."

"Maybe. I don't know if she and I will ever reconcile. Sorry, but you told me to be honest."

I realize I might look like someone is putting a beating on my favorite litter of puppies, if one can even have a favorite. Putting on a smile, I say, "I feel lust for you, not love. Affection might come one day, but it'll never be the type you and Grandmother share. Get that through your head." I don't know if it's a quaint prediction, or if I'm lying to myself. Either way, that is what must be. Vassals can be in love with other people, but they must put you first. "Are you mine?"

He nods. Apparently, that is the last ingredient our Passions need. I feel a tremor pass through me, pass through him, and make us one. A silent marriage. A Binding oath. Vassal and Liege, till our end.

I'm still angry at Lusu, but I also hunger for him. Leading him to a room separated from my friends' chamber by three others, we fuck, again, and again, and again, till the night arrives. I spend the next day with my cousin, when he tells me all that went on in the capital during mine and Lera's sabbatical. That the city was lost, and my friend's father, the Mage-King, was captured, leaving the Sun-Angel, Qajawa'Vanuriel Pentasomnia, Descendant of the five and King of Continent Yanumula'Sesetilo, in charge of the People's Army. A month passes before Ruba and Lera have to report back to their people in the newly assigned Martial Capital, City Vanurilo, in the Sun-Angel Continent. They try to give me an out, but I'm still a hostage burdened by my mother's oath, and still their friend besides. We head out with them on a bright morning, even while my Grandfather and I make our own plans for Guhari'Ebian domination. Even while he teaches me to be something I've never been before. A warrior after no one's heart but my own.