tagSci-Fi & FantasyFey World Ch. 02

Fey World Ch. 02


When I woke it was late in the day and I was on the ground. A fire burned in front of me and to my left the horses slept, curled off their weary feet. Pietyr was snuggled into my side and my sword was by my boots. I got up as far as my elbows when something was thrust in my face.


I looked at Bornagold. "What is it?"

"Rabbit stew. You sleep like the dead."

"Interesting choice of words. Thank you."

I accepted the stew and sat up. It smelled great and I sighed. Real food, it had been days.

"Eat up, you are too thin. Only bones and muscles, a woman should be softer."

Bornagold was annoying but I didn't think it was personal. "That is the prevailing thought here as well."

"You are not from here?"

I shook my head, always preferring honesty,. Even if it was the whole truth. "I was raised in Norselund."

"As a slave?"

"As a child. I have only been here for nine years and still find it strange."

"Angorland is most strange to us. We do not have men who are wolves."

"I did not think we did as well. Where is the other fey?"

"Elfgwyven? He is covering our tracks."


"How long have the wolves been following you?"

"Five days ago we were traveling with six guards. We stopped in a small town, Andugaurd, and I saw these men. They had coloring lighter than the most Angorlandiands, and they were taller. That night two of our sentries were slaughtered.

"Then four nights ago we camped and the rest of our guards were slain. I escaped with Pietyr and we've been running for three nights on foot with no food or weapons."

He nodded "The wolves have been tracking you. Why do you think they want the boy?"

I couldn't trust him with the truth. "I don't know. Perhaps it's me they're after, but I only know I must protect my brother."

Bornagold looked over Pietyr. "He looks nothing like you."

"Our father is his by birth, mine by adoption."

"Following the suit of the king?" Bornagold smiled. He had no idea.


"Tell me of these people. Tell me of the princess my king is marrying. What is she like?"

"She is the last of her people, the only living Norselundian left. She is said to be beautiful and wise, but I don't know for sure. Court rumors are wild, she is rarely present at formal functions, prefers solitude."

"If she is the last of her kind, I understand. Is she fit to be the wife of a king?"

"She has always been a princess, but to the Norse it is something different. A King is like a chieftain, there are many. It is similar here to a lowly Viscount, perhaps a Baron. By the standards of her country she was full grown when she came here. I'm not sure she's used to being a royal."

"She had better learn. We will require much from our queen. She will rule with our King, make decisions that effect our daily lives. If he should be off in battle or lost, she will be our sole ruler."

I gulped. No one had told me that. "Oh."

"I think I should prefer a warrior, one skilled in battle strategy. Are there many like you?"

"I know of no others."


Pietyr woke up and then he was given stew. When I saw him settled I walked to a nearby stream to wash up. Bornagold told me I had thirty minutes to wash, plenty time.

Making sure I was alone I scooted to some bushes and dropped my clothes save for my shift, and unbound my hair. I opened my sheath to unwind the binding on my breasts and they sprung free, making me sigh in relief. I slipped into the cool stream and dove under, feeling free. Back in my home country we had swum naked, but here that was forbidden. In fact, here, princesses weren't even supposed to swim.

It was a luxury, and I used silt from the bottom of the river to scrub dirt and sweat away, used the small vial of sudsing soap I had carried in my shirt pocket to wash my hair into a reddish gold shine. I was very vain of my hair, it being a beacon of my heritage.

When I was done I crawled out with twenty minutes to dry off and dress left. I relaxed into the grass and sighed my eyes closed. A moment later a shadow crossed the sunlight behind my eyes and I sprang up, sword in hand, ready to fight.

It was Elfgwyven, and he smiled. I realized that my wet sheath may as well have left me naked and squeaked, dropped my sword, and ducked behind a bush. He grinned wider.

In the true light I had a good look at him and my heart stuttered. Handsome was an adjective he'd wear like the goddess Frejya would wear plain. It was an insult to perfection. His eyes were blue, a dark blue, like the blue of my people and for a moment I was back on the fjord. I shook it off and realized he was only a man. A perfect man, but just a man.

"Would you like a drying spell?"

"Yes, please," I squeaked out. Suddenly my sheath was dry, but I didn't come out.

He picked up my clothes and tsked. "A shame." And in his hands it changed from a white and brown lump of clothes to a light blue lump. "There we are, clothes fit for a woman."

"Um, thanks. Now go away."

His grin turned lopsided and somehow that only made him more handsome. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I think? "I think you'll need help."

"That's not how things are done here!"

He stepped closer and I caught his scent. Light and spicy it beckoned and I gripped the bush tighter.

"Oh, why not?"

"I am an unmarried woman, already promised in marriage. I know nothing about you, you could be married, or worse, not. If anyone should learn of this my family would suffer in shame and my marriage would be forfeit."

He shook his head. "How can you people place such foolish beliefs in a woman's status of her knowing of men? In my world men and women are equals. Nothing is lost, children are not questioned."

"It is not your place to question our ways, but as a guest to obey them." I kept my voice low and it came out a little too sibilant.

He chuckled. "All right, I'll turn my back, but after I have seen how the wolves pursue you, I will not leave you alone."

Good thing I had done my business downstream before I washed.

I waited until he turned and stalked out, jerking the dress down. It was a dress, lower cut than was proper and how would I ride? "It's too small!"

He turned and something lit behind his eyes, like a dancing flame. Fey trick, I assumed. "Let me tie the back for you."

"Not yet. I was just trying it on. I have to, uh, do something before we start riding again."

His eyes slipped to my breasts and I blushed deeper. "Such a shame." He waved his hand and they were bound comfortably small, and the dress was higher.

"Thank you."

"Turn around."

I did and he lifted my hair after stepping so close I could feel his warmth. A trembling weakness spread through me and then I felt his hands. God, he was so warm and hard that for once I actually felt small and soft. I bit back a sigh as if he were caressing me, not tying the dress' bodice. Then he was done.

I was frozen as he walked around and picked up my scabbard, peered at it, and suddenly it was smaller. He leaned in and tied it around my waist and my heart stuttered again. He smiled so close I could kiss him and my eyes grew wide.

He stepped back, just barely, and I felt my hair move of its own volition until it was settled tightly coiled about my head, with a few strands loose. Then Elfgwyven stepped back and nodded. "Suits you, an Amazon ready for battle."

I slipped on my own boots and turned to walk back to camp where two sets of raised eyebrows greeted me. "Don't ask," I told my brother.

We packed up as the sun was setting and climbed onto the horses, now following the road southwest. Once again Elfgwyven sat behind me only this time I had thin velvet between us instead of leather, and I was going to be awake the whole night.

"Lean back into me."


"You'll be much more comfortable."

"It would be most improper."

"For someone not born to these people, you certainly enforce their rules."

"I am a highborn woman, promised to a very highborn man. My only duty is to come to him pure and untouched, by the laws here, and give him many heirs."

"Sounds quite boring, a fate I'm sure you'd be happy to avoid."

"Here in Angorland when a woman is proven to have carnal knowledge her family forfeits not only the bride price but three times in restitution. That is usually enough to make a family homeless."

"Cruel, so cruel. And I suppose men are not held to the same standards?"

"No, they most certainly are not."

"Sounds as if you disapprove."

"I do."

"Don't talk much, do you?"

I usually didn't have anyone but Pietyr to talk to, and then only about battles long past. "No."

He chuckled. "Tell me, when you fought the wolves, what was that strange cry you made?"

"It is the battle song of my people."

"Song? Sounds like you enjoy battle."

"Very much."

"I could tell."

I twisted about to look at him. "How?"

"You were smiling."

"Was I?" I grinned and he returned it. I turned back to the road.

"Why does that make you happy? What must your parents think?"

I paused, unsure if I should tell him, then I gave in. "My father died."

"How did he die?"

"In battle."

"And your mother?"

"Poisoned by a jealous woman. A most shameful death."

"I take it you wanted her to die in battle?"

"She was my mother. I wanted her to die not at all, but she wished to go in battle. It is our way."

"You are an interesting people."

Yes, we certainly were. We lapsed into silence and rode for hours, stopping briefly to rest the horses and refuel ourselves, and frankly, relax our backsides. Mine was doubly sore from riding sidesaddle. This time when I mounted I straddled the horse completely like a man would and dared Elfgwyven to say anything. He just mounted behind me and to my shock I could feel him almost intimately.

He jerked me back against his chest. "Relax, rest. We're on a damn horse, what could happen?"

I had no idea what he meant so I relaxed. I was drifting into a nap when I felt him kick the horse and move forward, away from Pietyr, but it didn't matter. I fell into the dream.

I was in a dark place, it seemed like a cave but I swore I could see stars, and there were trees and an explosion of wildflowers. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Do you like it?" Elfgwyven said to my right.

"Very much so. It's beautiful." So was he. Here his chest was bare, a perfection of lines in a setting of pale gold. His body was so hard and firm that even his pink hair could not detract from his masculinity. Looking at him I felt things I was not supposed to feel for anyone but my future husband.

"This is a dream," he said drawing near.

"It must be."

"Nothing here is real." He took my hand and I felt the zing of sensation I seemed to always feel with him. "This is only what you wish."

And with that he kissed me. I had been kissed as a young girl, innocent stolen kisses, but never as a woman, and never from a full-grown man. His mouth was firm, his lips soft, his embrace crushing. I opened my mouth to moan and to my shock his tongue slid in. I had never imagined such a thing!

His hands were warm and firm, one arm locked around me, the other hand cupping my face. He tasted like figs and something dark and naughty, reminding me of the feel of soft fur on naked skin. Then his mouth moved across my cheek to my ear and I moaned.

He laid siege to each bit of skin like a hungry man desperate for a taste and I shivered, frozen and unsure of just how to react to my first throes of passion. Then I felt him on my neck, weakening my knees, and then on my chest. He nibbled softly on the skin over my collarbone, licking now and then and drawing a surprised gasp from me.

I was bent back further and my eyes fluttered closed as I drew my hands into his hair. It was cool and soft on my skin, the softest thing I'd ever touched. Then I felt a cool draft on a place not used to cool drafts, and then a wet heat.

I opened my eyes to realize my nipple was in his mouth and he suckled in earnest. I cried out his name and felt him chuckle, then I felt the swipe of his tongue. Goddess! My knees buckled and he caught me, breaking contact to lay me down in the soft grass.

"What magic is this?" I asked.

He leaned over me, a hot mass my body strained towards. "What do you mean?"

"I've never dreamed anything like this existed."

He chuckled again. "Oh, there's much more."

He returned to the breast and I arched into his mouth, crying out at the pleasure. His hand lowered my bodice to the night air and his clever fingers found the other nipple, squeezing and plucking it until I felt a rush of moisture pool between my legs. I could only make strangled noises of surprised pleasure as my hands grappled for him.

He had a texture that was at once rough and smooth and intoxicating, I couldn't get enough. I had felt a small measure of this madness alone in my rooms, and with my hands I had caressed my own body seeking some measure of relief, but it had never felt like this.

His hands now followed the same path as mine had long ago, one skittered down as his mouth moved to the dry nipple and latched on. I felt my skirts rising and my breath hitched as his hot hand touched my naked legs, and then my sheath.

I knew where he was going, where my hands had often ended up. There I usually found an end to the torture, a small almost popping sensation that relieved the pressure but did little else. I felt a keen disappointment to think this glorious pleasure would end just that way.

Something hard touched my shoulder and I started. My hands sought it out and at the juncture of his thighs it stood. I had seen men naked before, but whatever it was, theirs had lain soft and loose between their legs. His was large, long, and ramrod hard.

His hand that had parted my sheath poised stopped at the entrance.

"Do you know what that is, Anni?"

"No," I whispered, too shy to meet his eyes.

His free hand turned my chin until I met those blue eyes. "It's called a penis, and it fits inside you, here." Then he touched me and I arched up, hissing.

This was nothing like my own fingers. His were rougher, broader, warmer, blunter. He found the little nubbin and rubbed and I cried out his name again, a broken plea for something I couldn't actually name.

Beneath my hand his penis seemed to lengthen and I moved my hand gently up and down, wonderingly until he grabbed my hand, pulled it away and kissed the palm. "You'll unman me."

I had no idea what he meant but I relaxed into his caresses and his mouth returned to my breast. Suddenly I felt as if my spirit were climbing a great mountain, my muscles grew tighter, and my breathing quickened. As last his fingertips brushed me faster and softer and it broke, I broke. I screamed out his name and felt like I was flying.

I woke with a start to find his penis was hard against me. My own nipples were stiff and my sheath felt wet, my body shimmering with the aftereffects of whatever I had dreamed about.

I jerked forward trying to escape the hardness and startled the horse.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly, a touch of arrogance in his voice.

"I'd like to walk."


"The horses are walking, there's no need for me to ride with you if I don't have to."

"I'll walk then, if you're so uncomfortable. Of course, you could remember you're not really one of them, relax, and just let the night go on."

I turned to look at him and saw something of hunger in his eyes, a feeling I not only understood but shared. Though it pained me greatly I shook my head. "I am promised to another."

He slipped off gracefully and handed me the reins, keeping time with the horse. I watched him until his face turned around. "We'll see."

I didn't like the sound of that.

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by Anonymous

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by GoesGrunt10/15/14


The Fey characters seeming lack of respect is somewhat annoying unless they're supposed to be the antagonists of the story. If the readers are supposed to dislike them, it's working.

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