A Matter of Blood Pt. 02

At last, they crashed into us, weakened but not stopped. I gave up on clever ideas and simply threw Arrow after Arrow. As I tired, finally, I found myself throwing more than one. I wasn't trying to do it, I was simply desperate and afraid, and so fucking angry that these idiots wouldn't give up. At the last second I noticed one young man, perhaps sixteen, had come close enough to Parla that his spear was raised and ready to impale her, perhaps in the neck. Parla's back was turned, shouting orders that could barely be heard twenty feet away. I reacted and three blue streaks came from my hand. They didn't simply impact the poor bastard and kill him, as was typical. They blew through his armor, his torso, and then back out his armor again. He collapsed, falling on top of her. She swore, pushed his limp corpse off of her, and then looked back at me, and nodded her thanks.

Our side held. Theirs broke. It was my first true battle. It would not be the last.

* * *

The real turning point for me, magically speaking, came with some bad news. Part of me was expecting it, but it didn't do anything to make it better.

It was months after that first muddy engagement. We'd fought several battles as part of much larger forces on behalf of Portismunde, who was now the lead contender. It was that kind of war. We had taken quite a few losses so we were back in our dive in Troyes that served as our logistics base, headquarters, and recruitment center for the War of Three Heirs. We had finished our last contract with stunning success. I was gaining a reputation as a mage of some skill, albeit nothing special in the power department.

The kid, Bartles, third of the Three Sisters (although ironically not related to the other two, she was something of a mascot I would come to learn) came in with a broadsheet in her hand. She loved Purebloods. Loved reading about us and gossiping about us. It was ironic to me as she was clearly a Wildblood from the Great Forest. She had leaves in her hair for fucks sake. She was, by all accounts, interesting, and definitely had powers and magics that no Pureblood could ever possess. And she could read, which was more than a lot of the company could say.

But we were powerful and glamorous and larger than life. I doubt that it even occurred to her that I could be a Pureblood, even when I started manifesting greater power. I was too grimey and broken to be one of her paragons.

In any case, Bartles, who was adorable, started reading the broadsheet to all of us. She thought she was sharing vital news, but really, we humored her. And she generally told a good story.

"Listen up," she said, her adolescent voice full of attempted authority, "It seems like there's news about the royals back in Cymru."

I wanted to stand up and leave, but there was no way I could make it in time. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be good news for me. At best it would make me ache for home. At worst...

I'll let you choose which one it turned out to be.

"The wife of the heir is with child! She's going to give birth in six months!"

Well.

The wife. That narrowed things down.

Why, I left the castle barely three months ago. And in six months. They...she...got started early, didn't she?

I sat very still while my compatriots argued the merits of noblewomen and whether or not they had better breasts than commoners. I could have told them there were no differences that not having to work and have twenty children couldn't account for. I was, however, enraged.

It was too much. She had looked happy standing there, on the balcony. And now she was carrying the fruit of that traitor's seed as if I had never existed. I wanted to flip the table, to fight, to die. I wanted anything but to be there hearing those fucking words.

The broadsheet caught fire. Bartles dropped it with a shout, sucking on her singed finger. Everyone was shocked. Some probably suspected magic was done. But it couldn't have been me. I never said a word, and everyone knew mages couldn't do anything without incantations and certainly not without sign marking them clear as day.

I knew in my heart that it was me. There had been stories, in the past, of Purebloods willing things to happen. Sometimes small, sometimes grandiose. But without words or gestures or even magical sign. I was enraged. And fire had taken that which had enraged me.

I gave a silent prayer of thanks that it was the broadside and not Bartles that had caught fire. I couldn't live with myself if I had hurt her. She was the last innocent I knew of, anywhere.

From that point forward I started to be different with my approach magic. I exercised it every day, and not in the way that we were taught. In the past it was always skill, control, practice, practice, practice.

I remembered the old words:

"Kneel, for the Flame is my Friend and the Lightning my Brother. I am of the Pure Blood."

I went out to the hills beyond the city and resided there. I told the boss that I would be out there practicing magic and asked her to send someone for me when they had a contract. She agreed. She thought anything that made me better at killing was a capital idea.

Out in the ruin of some forgotten village, I forgot control and banished restraint. I used the same spells that I always did, summoning fire, lifting rocks, making sparks of light fly through the air. But instead of controlling them with intellect, I filled them with rage. Instead of holding them back with discipline, I channelled my sorrow and loss into them. My grief was as sharp as a blade and I wielded it like one.

As I had posited, the increase in power was...significant. The first day I tried my old firegout trick. At the beginning I could engulf a man or a bush, as expected. By the end of the day I was sweating, exhausted, and hated myself, but I had released something big enough to engulf the entire ruin of an inn. For a little while, I think some of the stone was burning. My dear brother had never done anything this powerful before. Neither, for that matter, had Merwyd. This was not the new magic of our age, but the old magic of the brutal fights against the Karresh and the horrors left by the Eldest. This was what saved the world and possibly nearly destroyed it. This was what made men fear Purebloods.

I could revenge myself on my family with this, even without allies.

I had cut my hair down quite a bit, but I knew some had turned white that day, even if I could not see it. I would have to make an effort to dye it soon, but I could use bootblack for the time being if needed.

I was still full of hate, but for the first time in an age I felt like I was more at the end of a day than at the beginning. I went to bed and called it a victory.

Naturally, my rage grew. Rage isn't something you spend and its gone. Its something you stoke and it stays. It may go out for a little while, but it always comes back, and stronger.

My heart still loved Merwyd, maybe it always would, but the thing that had been growing in me? The thing that had perhaps been there long before I went out a goddamn window of the sanctum? It wanted to burn her and anything she gave birth to. It wanted to feed the ashes to Tyr. I'm not proud of it now, and I wasn't then, either. But I needed power, so I admitted the truth; that I was the thing, and I fed it, for the first time, actively. If everyone else in my family could sacrifice me to survive, then they had no room to criticize me when I came back a monster.

Beasts must eat, and mine demanded blood. So, it would have it.

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CHAPTER FIVE

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Life became a bit surreal during these years. I compartmentalized it into three parts: training, fighting, and Raisa. Training would simply consist of me going somewhere and practicing techniques. Channeling my emotions and letting loose. It seemed that each time I did so, I unleashed a little more power. By the time I left the company, the name of Seath was synonymous with the Company, and I was feared.

Fighting was pretty straightforward too, although there were moments. I was injured, but rarely gravely. I was paid very well, the irony being that I had little to spend it on. Every time we went back to Troyes I scoured merchants stalls for books and scrolls of new magic to try, but the war had driven away purveyors of such high-end merchandise. I was unceremoniously declared the "official war mage of the Three Sister's Company" early on, however. Which came with a slight pay raise and access to an ancient, barely coherent book of spells with the hand-scrawled title of "Lore of Acheron". Much of it seemed to have been written in a drug-addled haze by a brilliant, if mad, sorcerer. I did learn some new tricks, however, that I would use to great effect in the coming years. Most notably the ability to push with great force, which is something most Purebloods learned early but I had not, due to my limited abilities. And there was a rather inspired section on channelling the rage and sorrow of others. Prior to my own experiments, I would have ignored it. Now, however...

Even as a I grew and learned, my hair gradually turned blonde, then white. I noticed that when I looked very closely at it that it had an iridescent sheen that I had no word for. I cut it short, but also dyed it brown. I wore hoods and sometimes even masks if I didn't have time to shave. I did it out of fear of being discovered as a Pureblood but it gave me a sinister reputation, and I was avoided by all decent folk. The exception being, of course, Bartles. She was growing up on god-forsaken battlefields and wine-sotted taverns, but somehow managed to be honest and innocent. I didn't understand it, but it was heartening. If she didn't have other duties she'd often follow me on my training and cheer as I destroyed something spectacularly or laugh good-naturedly when my magic failed in an amusing way. Anyone else I would probably have sent hurtling through the sky, but you just had to laugh along with Bartles.

Every now and then, with no regularity or warning, I would wake in my room or tent, and Raisa would be there. She never failed to startle me, which she always found amusing. Her visits were, however, always welcome. More than welcome really, necessary. I think that they kept me sane. As the last family member who I trusted and knew loved me, I came to value her more and more.

Before that happened though, we had to work out the specifics of "our deal" as she called it.

It was about six months into my run with the Three Sisters that she first showed up. I was in what had become my regular room at The Werewolf's Hart, which was a little away from where the company bunked. It was high end, quiet, and clean. And the locks worked. I awoke to a figure straddling me. My first impulse was to use my one of my newly learned abilities to launch them out the window, as I was on the third floor, but when I realized that they were just sitting there, I guessed who it was.

"Raisa?"

She giggled in her girlish and charming way. She had always liked sneaking up on me and trying to scare me. I guess that hadn't changed.

I became aware of how warm she was, how light. And this time, when I saw her curves, I wasn't bleeding from my back. My body responded to both her and my complete lack of sex in the previous months. As she sat, watching me, she must have felt my cock, because even in the dim candle light I could see her blush.

She hopped off me but I caught her around her waist and pulled her close to me. She made a surprised squeak, and then as I spooned her she moaned deep in her throat, a much more adult noise. I'm not sure why I did it except I really did miss her, and the desire she had awoken in my was much stronger than I expected. I was quickly back in control of myself. I would not, ever, do anything to her that she didn't want me to.

"So," I said, casually, "Do you come here often."

She giggled again and relaxed in my arms a bit. She had always cuddled with me. Was it my imagination or had she just backed her small, tight ass back against my hard cock?

"It's nice. You have good taste, for a mercenary."

I leaned in and kissed her neck, gently. She shivered a bit and melted back into me. My arms were around her and I could feel her chest rising and falling a little faster. She spoke again.

"We have to talk about Our Deal," she said. You could hear the capital letters and it was clear that she had given this a lot of thought.

"You did save my life, so, I suppose I serve at your pleasure," I whispered the words into her ear, and she moaned a little again.

"You're...you're making fun of me. You shouldn't."

I laughed, deep and rich.

"No. I'm not teasing you, love. You've grown up, and I am very appreciative of what you've done for me. I know the risks. I'll do whatever you want, so long as you make me a promise. I know its not fair, but I must demand it."

"What do you want me to promise?"

"That you won't attempt to kill any of our family. And that if you think that any of them believe that you have betrayed them, that you will run. And lastly that if...if I die, you won't attempt to avenge me, but live your life for yourself. I love you."

I'd also thought quite a bit about her. The idea of Raisa being injured or killed while working on my behalf made me sick. Mostly, that was what my prohibition on assassinating family was about too. They were trained to expect it. Also, I had no idea who was my enemy and who was simply trying to survive Pureblood politics.

"I...I promise. But I can still help you, right?"

"Yes."

"All right. Then this is what I want. I want you to make love to me whenever I want. If...if you ever get back to home I want to be your First Wife. And when I'm ready, I want you to give me a child. Actually, as many as I want. That's it."

I admit, after our last encounter I expected something like the first request. And the last one made sense, if her feelings for me were as strong as I suspected, far beyond simple desire. The second one showed some forethought, though. Its one thing to marry a prince of Pure Blood, another thing entirely to be the First. She had a degree of sexual freedom, and power over any other wives and concubines. And she was, almost, the equal of her husband. She could even rule on his behalf if he became infirm. While I knew that the women in our family were at least a match in capability for the men, most of them were, at the end of the day, treated like property.

"Done," I said, "Would you want me to sign something for your or do you trust my word? I'm afraid I had to leave home without my signet."

"N..no. I trust you. I'll always trust you."

I released her from my grip long enough to light the lantern on the crude table with a simple spell.

"W...why did you do that?" Raisa said, suddenly nervous.

"So I could see my lovely little sister better. I didn't really get a good look at you last time."

She fidgeted in my arms.

"Please don't be mad," she said. Still facing away from me, she pulled her hood down and lowered her cowl. She turned around. I braced myself, expecting a scar or injury. I would still love her and make love to her, in any case. I had plenty my own scars and had never found them unattractive in others. She turned around in my arms and faced me, so I could see her in the dim light.

"What?" I said, confused, breaking the tension, "You're gorgeous, even more so than when you were younger."

She truly was. She had grown into her elfin features, her high cheekbones providing shape to her large, bright-green eyes. Her flame-red hair was in a tight bun. Her mouth was drawn tight with worry, clearly expecting some kind of rejection.

"B..but..." she said, stuttering a bit, "My hair..."

I looked at her hair, then I finally understood. I hadn't been around my own kind in too long. Her hair had no white in it, and thus her power had not developed at all. For most Purebloods, this made her undesirable. Ugly.

I'd never really felt the same way, but after living with commoners I found the idea offensive.

"It's beautiful. I love the way the lamplight reflects off of it. And damn anyone who doesn't agree." I ran my fingers through it and then put my hand on her face. She leaned into my palm, closing her eyes, biting her lip. There was going to be no talk about power.

I leaned in and truly kissed her for the first time. There had been many chaste kisses on the cheek or head when we were younger, but no one would mistake this for chaste. Her eagerness outweighed her experience, as her tongue immediately darted into my mouth. I wanted to take things a little more slowly but she had her arms wrapped around my neck and seemed determined to literally smother me with kisses. When we broke for a second, both of us were breathing hard.

"Easy," I said, laughing, "We've got all the time we need."

"Sorry," she said, her eyes twinkling, "I'm...just excited."

That was the right word for it. We kissed again, this time a little less intensely, taking breaths. I had one of my hands in her hair, stroking it gently, while I let my other explore her body slowly. Unlike last time, she was dressed in a dark silken tunic and breeches. I saw her leather outer armor laying discarded on the floor, next to her boots. What she wore served to emphasize rather than conceal her body.

I could feel, quite easily, the contours of her small left breast. As I thumbed her nipple, I noticed that it was hard like a pebble. She groaned in my mouth, audibly as I did so, more responsive than any other lover I had ever been with. I took this as permission and moved my hand down to her tight ass, pulling it into me. She gasped as she felt my hard cock pressing into her hip, and began to grind her pussy against my leg with some abandon.

I felt grateful to be with this vibrant young woman after so many days of blood and banality. I wanted to make her feel good. I moved my hand down from her breast, slowly across her belly, and then slipped it into the top of her breeches. She froze, completely. The only sign of her being anything but a statue was her rapid, shallow breaths.

I stopped and moved my hand out.

"Are you all right?" I said, concerned that I did something wrong. She took a moment to respond, and it was barely a whisper.

"Y...yes," she said, "I'm s...sorry. I just, um...oh gods," she tucked her head into my chest, her breath still coming too fast.

"Its all right. I'm not going to do anything until you're ready, all right?"

She nodded, and I felt her relax a little, her breathing slowing. A thought occurred to me and I didn't know why it hadn't before.

"Are you...have you ever lay with anyone before?"

Rather than respond with words she shook her head, keeping her face buried in my chest. So she was a virgin. I had assumed based on her age and beauty that surely someone would have...but no. Of course not. For years she had been at some shadow temple training in stealth and assassinations, and they probably had some fairly strict rules about assignations between initiates. And because of her lack of power she would not have been overly interesting to Tyr or our father. Probably not uncle either, although he seemed to have some strange preferences anyhow. Naturally, commoners would not attempt to initiate any sort of sexual relationship with a royal princess. Even lesser nobles would be loathe to do that. Despite her rights my family did have a bit of a reputation for killing unwanted suitors. So she'd been alone. Waiting for...for me.

"You should have come to me sooner. Or I should have come to you. I couldn't have imagined that I would be lucky enough to be your first."

She looked up at me and I stroked her hair, as I did when we were younger. She whimpered, which was definitely new. It was a very appealing noise.