Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 05

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Author's note

Part Seven moves the story to Spring. It is not necessary for you to have read earlier parts of the story, though things may make more sense if you have.

This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.

All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.

As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I'll try to respond in a timely manner.

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"What's this?" Cahill asked his mother.

"I told you," she replied, "I want to try something different today."

That really wasn't an answer.

Using a flimsy rope bridge, they'd crossed a deep chasm. Then they'd hiked up a steep incline, passed through a thick fog, and descended into a lush valley on the far side. So far as Cahill knew, they were at the farthest edge of Faerie. The very border of the Emerald Court. And why had they made that long trek? To swim in a lake that was no different from any other body of water found within their lands. At least, so far as Cahill could tell. If there was something unique about the gray water, some reason for them to have come all this way for the day's training sessions, his mother wasn't telling.

"Just trust me, okay?" she said.

With that, Caronwyn slipped out of her heavy brown robes. Her slender hands didn't touch the rough fabric, of course. It was only her mind that removed the garment. Cahill watched, hypnotized, as it fell to the dewy grass beneath her feet, exposing her fair skin.

Wasn't he supposed to think her unattractive? Too curvaceous?

As he watched her slowly walk into the water, more and more of her voluptuous form disappearing beneath it's still surface, he slowly regained control of his senses. The momentary fascination with a woman he found far less attractive than any other member of Clan Walker faded. He remembered that he didn't like her red hair. It was only because of what had happened the night before, when he'd come to tell his mother what he'd learned about his father, that he'd momentarily forgotten that she wasn't his type.

A pale finger rose up from the water and curled, beckoning him forth.

With a sigh, Cahill stripped out of his pants and slid his leather vest off. Then he followed his mother into the water. It was cool, but not quite cold. His skin pebbled and he gasped reflexively a few times, but it didn't take long to get accustomed to it.

His mother offered him a wan smile as he approached. The tops of her breasts were visible, pale crescent moons struggling not to be swallowed up by the dark sea around them.

Damn if that didn't look good. His mother's huge breasts made even Fiona's and Oona's look modest. Not small, exactly. No one would ever think that of them. But their generous endowments seemed a lot less impressive after laying eyes on Caronwyn.

"Not so bad, huh?" she asked, splashing playfully at him.

"My little boys weren't crazy about the chill, at first," he said, clearing his throat. It had taken him a moment to realize that she was referring to the water. "But no, not bad."

But, then, neither were any of the lakes and streams they could reach without having to risk falling to their deaths. Part of him had expected the water to be something more than just water. To fill him with euphoria. To drain every ache and pain away from his body. To do something other than send his testes fleeing for the warmth of his body.

"Where did you go last night?" she asked him.

Cahill sputtered. He'd tried telling her already. As soon as he'd shown up for his lessons. She'd cut him off! Why did it feel now as though he was being interrogated? Why was there that hard edge to her voice, like she was frustrated with him for keeping secrets from her?

"I went to see Teagan," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

His mother's tone had changed abruptly again. From playful to demanding to calm and patient. Detached. Free of any emotional investment.

"To see if she could tell me anything about my father," he said.

"And did she?"

He nodded.

Caronwyn studied him silently. Fuck, she had nice, full lips. And her big, brown eyes were stunning, especially when contrasted with her whiter-than-white skin. If not for that auburn hair, she'd have been gorgeous. Prettier than her sister. Prettier than Brittany. As pretty as any woman he'd ever met. It was just so hard not to notice that hair. Even her eyebrows had a hint of red in them. He couldn't look at her without seeing that.

"She tried to pretend it was only a slip of the tongue, but she called him Daddy."

"Probably because he's her father," his mother said.

Cahill choked on his shock.

She said it so matter-of-factly. Like everyone knew that Arawn and Macha had engaged in inbreeding.

"You knew?" he asked without giving it much thought.

His mother nodded. Then, as if she hadn't just dropped a bomb on him, she changed the subject. "And that's the only reason you went there?"

"Why else?" Cahill asked.

"Answer the question," she said, flatly. A hint of emotion crept into her voice.

"No other reason," he said.

All around him, the water turned bright red. The surface almost seemed to glow.

"What the?"

"That means you're not telling me something," his mother said. "That you've not spoken any words that are untrue, but you've still lied by omission."

"Getting Teagan to tell me whatever she could about Arawn was the only reason I went there," Cahill said. "But it wasn't until after I'd seduced her that she let that slip."

His mother nodded. And the lake appeared to be satisfied with his confession as well, for it turned a dull and lifeless gray once more.

"This is the Lake of Truth," his mother explained.

"I don't get it," Cahill said.

"We can't," his mother confirmed. "But some would say that our kind is endlessly inventive when it comes to thinking up ways to deceive while speaking only the truth."

Cahill nodded impatiently. He knew all that already.

"Every now and then, mortal men and women accidentally wander into Faerie," she said, yet again telling him something he already knew. "Sometimes, it's useful to be able to prove to them that we're not trying to deceive them." With a mischievous grin that reminded him of Liadan, she added, "In those rare cases where we're not."

He stared at the water in disbelief. With a cupped palm, he scooped some of it up, as if expecting to find its secrets revealed one he studied it up close.

"When we deliberately withhold information in response to a question, the water turns red," his mother told him. "Green when we say something that is strictly true but which we know will be interpreted in such a way as to leave the listener with a false impression. Blue when intentionally dodge a question we know to be important."

"So what else do you know about my father that you've never told me?" Cahill asked.

A slow smile spread across his mother's lips, and the water turned blue as she did. "That's the idea, yeah," she said. "You're a fast learner."

"Well?"

"Mostly just that, sweetie," she said. "But there's a lot that goes with it."

"Uh huh," he said.

Caronwyn sighed. "After my mother overthrew her, Titania allied herself with Lady Winter. The Matriarch of Winter. Ever since the queen retook power, the one and only rule observed throughout the Homelands has been set aside. But only for certain clans."

"Such as Dreamsmyth," Cahill said dryly.

"Not only them," his mother said. "She wants the practice to be widespread enough to legitimate her family's actions. But she doesn't dare allow it within any clan powerful enough to contest the throne."

"Why not?" Cahill asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Purebred children are stronger than other immortals," she said. "And they lend some of their strength to their mothers. Simply by being, they empower their clans."

The blue had faded from the water. He'd only meant to test out the lake's properties, but in so doing, he'd learned something that he suspected would prove important one day.

"Now, my sweet Kay," his mother said, moving closer to him. A palm rose up out of the water and, once he bent over to allow her to reach up high enough, pressed itself against his cheek. "Tell me. What did our prince want with you?"

"I-I don't know," he said.

The water remained gray.

"Oooh," his mother said, as if he'd said something incredibly profound.

"What?"

Her brown eyes stared into his. The thick black eyeliner framing them, to say nothing of her smoky red and brown eye-shadow, really made her eyes pop. Not that any man could have stared into those beautiful orbs without feeling his loins stir anyway.

If only she'd dye her hair. Or will it another color.

"He's tampered with your memories," Caronwyn said. "Probably did more than that too, but since you've no memory of it, I'm not finding any trace in your Libido."

Cahill could only shrug. Whatever his father had or hadn't done, he had no recollection of it. But apparently that was the point.

"Here," his mother said.

The hand pressed against his cheek slid up to his forehead. Then his mother's fingers pressed against his temple and sunk into his head as readily as they would have plunged beneath the surface of the water. He gasped as she penetrated his mind.

When her hand retreated, memories he'd once been denied rushed in to fill the void. As did feelings he'd been prevented from feeling.

All at once, Cahill remembered the many times he'd made love to his mother and that he didn't dislike her red hair in the least. That he thought it incredibly beautiful. So too did he remember what had really happened when he and his father attended Savannah's music festival. The way his father had used the flute to steal energy from the crowd, the power he'd unwittingly helped his father to amass, and how Arawn had used that power to manipulate Cahill's thoughts and feelings. How he'd convinced Cahill that he was less attracted to his mother than any other fey woman when in fact she was the object of his deepest desires, and had done so without leaving a trace of what he'd done for the powerful druidess to detect. And how it had made him laugh.

That most of all.

He'd mocked Cahill even as he violated his mind and his thoughts. "How can you be so attracted to her anyway?" his father had asked. "She's a beautiful woman. Don't get me wrong. But that body? Don't you feel silly, making love to a woman with breasts the size of your head? Don't you wish her ass was smaller, her hips slimmer?"

Cahill hadn't replied. He hadn't been able to. Not once his father had passed his hand over Cahill's mouth, leaving nothing but smooth flesh where his lips should have been. Muffled sounds had escaped from his throat, and they'd undoubtedly conveyed to his father that Cahill didn't agree, but that had only amused the prince further.

"Doesn't it make you feel like a little boy?" his father asked. "Like you've just hit puberty? Men are supposed to outgrow their fascination with boobs as they get older."

Liadan had told him that his father still cared for his mother. If so, he had a funny way of showing it. Or whatever affection he felt for her wasn't born out of physical attraction.

Yet, when Arawn finally stopped laughing, Cahill had thought he'd caught a look of sorrow in his father's eyes. It might only have been wishful thinking on his part, but he'd briefly thought that perhaps his father didn't mean the things he was saying. That he was just playing a role. He'd never outright said that he found Caronwyn unattractive because of her figure, the way he had said that she was beautiful.

Maybe he was just...maybe...but it did no good to dwell on that now.

"He'll know," his mother said suddenly, breaking him out of his reverie.

"What?" Cahill asked.

But he wasn't really thinking about what she'd said. With everything his father had taken from him now restored, Cahill suddenly found himself painfully aware of his mother's proximity. Of her infinite beauty and the powerful desire he felt for her. The very last thing he wanted to think about just then was his father.

"We can't let him know that you're no longer under the glamours," she said breathily. "He needs to think that you're still uninterested in me."

"Right," Cahill said, slipping a hand around his mother and letting it settle against the small of her back. Damn, she had the most amazing body. Curves like that weren't supposed to be possible. "Gotta keep it a secret."

"We really do," his mother said, the beginnings of a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. Even as she said that, she moved closer to him. The warmth in her Libido seemed fit to make the chilly lake water boil. "He's obviously afraid of you. Of us."

That almost made Cahill laugh. It was nice to know that his mother believed him worth fearing. But he knew better. The look on his father's face when he'd buried Cahill's thoughts and desires deep within his own mind had not been one of fear, but amusement. He'd done what he had because he could, not because his son posed him any threat.

"Seriously," his mother said.

Cahill gave her a quick peck on the lips by way of response. "So I shouldn't be kissing you?" Another. And another. "Is that what I'm hearing?"

Finally, he kissed her long and deep.

Words could not describe the pleasure he felt when their lips met. How had he ever doubted that she was the most perfect woman? That he'd been reluctant, almost bored, while sharing her with his brothers the night before now struck him as thoroughly absurd.

"No," his mother said sheepishly after their lips finally parted. She stared slowly backing away from him, heading towards the grassy shore. "We can. When we're alone. He can't see you when you're with me."

Cahill raised an eyebrow.

Mahogany runes appeared on her midsection, then her chest and thighs and arms. Even her face. Her breathtakingly fair skin was soon covered in tribal markings.

"Those who are not of my blood can only lay eyes upon me if I willingly reveal myself to them," his mother said. "And when you're ready to perform the ritual yourself, the same will go for you. But until then, you should assume that our prince is watching your every move, save when you're with me."

Cahill whistled softly.

"Anyway," his mother said, her tattoos fading away again, "the point is, we can do whatever we like when we're alone. But the rest of the time, you have to behave like you're still under his glamours." With that, she turned her back to him and made her way to shore.

"Got it," Cahill said, following after her.

Did his father really think her ass too big? Cahill wasn't sure how it could have been more perfect. Watching her cheeks take turns swelling with each step that she took made his head spin. And so what if her hips were wider than any he'd ever seen? Her waist was narrower than anyone's but Teagan's. If it was possible for some men to resist the exaggerated curves of her body, Cahill did not think that proved such men more mature or sophisticated.

A cool wind picked up suddenly. As it passed over Cahill's naked body, his skin pebbled. It lasted only a moment though, and when the gust died away, he found himself as dry as if he'd spent minutes vigorously working a towel.

His mother gave him a telling grin and he smiled back. He didn't need her help drying off. Since they'd begun training, he'd learned far more impressive glamours. Cleaning himself up and drying himself off with a mere thought took no effort at all. But the little gesture still excited him. It seemed to suggest a certain hunger and impatience. Caronwyn wasn't about to wait for him to dry himself off. That would delay the moment that he took her in his arms by at least a second or two, and she apparently wasn't about to stand for that.

Cahill wasted no time gathering his mother up in his arms.

Cupping her buttocks in his hands, he lifted her off the ground. The feel of her soft breasts against his chest, of her round ass in his hands, drove him crazy with lust. He could feel his cock growing hard. When their lips met, though, he knew true pleasure. Bolts of ecstasy shot through him. As their kiss went on, Cahill felt all his anxiety and pain, frustration and confusion, simply melt away. Was there some prince out to ruin his life and keep the two of them apart? Had his memories been taken away from him by his very own father? Maybe. But none of that mattered. Not while Caronwyn's lips were pressed to his.

"Wow," his mother said when he set her back down on the ground. She drew a deep breath and looked away, letting her fingers do the talking for her. They slid down his torso, running over his abs and in the grooves between them, then found their way between his legs. As she took hold of him, she let her breath out, sighing contentedly. "That was nice," she said at last, turning her brown eyes back to him.

"I've missed you," Cahill said.

His mother smiled back at him, giving his hard cock a few lazy pumps as she did. "Been right here," she said.

"I know," he replied. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"-let your father mess with your head?" she asked with a playful smile. "It's okay, sweetie. It's not your fault."

He nodded. But he knew that it wasn't true.

In his mother's mind, perhaps, the prince hadn't had any particular reason for sending for Cahill. And once he'd done so, Cahill'd had no choice but to comply. Once he'd done that, answered the summons, he'd been as good as helpless, powerful as his father was. Whether Cahill might be able to stand up to his father in time remained to be seen, but he'd had no chance of doing so that day. At that point, he'd not even begun training with his mother.

She didn't know about the flute though.

It was a good thing they'd gotten out of the water. The lake would give him away. Turn green, alerting his mother to the fact that he was deliberately withholding information and thereby leaving his mother with a false impression.

Cahill swept a lock of red hair back from his mother's face. Damn, those auburn locks were gorgeous. It must have taken some real doing on his father's part to convince him otherwise, for Cahill had never seen more beautiful hair.

In an ideal world, he'd never have to worry about forgetting how he felt about his mother. About the fact that was was his mother. They could just be together, forever and always.

That just wasn't the way the fey did things though.

He knew he should tell her. She ought to know. For all Cahill knew, he'd given his father the power to contest his mother's throne. Sooner or later, his mother would find out about the flute. Best she heard it from him.

He just couldn't bring himself to admit how foolish he'd been though. He still didn't know all the ways of their people. And he hadn't thought that Liadan's brother was anything but another of the many struggling musicians who descended upon Savannah every spring when he'd agreed to part with it. But when he'd handed it over, he'd known better. Not everything, but enough. Gifts were not given lightly among the fey. If Liadan had presented it to his father as such, she'd expect to get something in return. As he should have demanded for himself before giving his aunt the flute.

Steeped in mortal conceptions of kindness and reciprocity, he'd simply thought it an appropriate way to reward the woman who'd helped him finally awaken, even knowing that her brother wasn't in a band. It hadn't dawned on him that he might be setting something terrible in motion by doing so. Or that he could have gotten her to offer him a boon.