A Matter of Blood Pt. 02

"I couldn't," she said, "it was too dangerous, and uncle kept ordering me to...well they were all in the North, so far from you."

I could only imagination that "they" referred to her targets. I decided to keep talking a bit, until she relaxed.

"A lot of problems in the North, are there?"

She smiled widely, which was unexpected.

"Yes. There are a many nobles who were used to seeing you on patrol and don't think that Tyr is up to the job of ruling. I've killed a few who were trying to be independent, but I might have let a couple go who are rather ardent supporters of the theory that you were murdered and are the 'rightful heir'."

I laughed.

"You never fail to surprise me, little sister. Just like the old days when you'd be waiting behind a door with a bucket of water."

She giggled, so pure and clear.

"You remember that? Oh that's so embarrassing."

We both stopped laughing, looking deeply into each others eyes. Her hand came back to my face, stroking me softly.

"You can touch me again," she said, much more calmly, "please."

"Gladly," I said, slipping my hand back into her breaches, touching her sex for the first time. She wore no panties, and her breeches were soaked already.

"Oh...oh...Finn...oh fuck..."

I don't think I'd ever heard Raisa swear, and it was oddly erotic to me. I had barely brushed her clitoris or labia. I simply put my hand on her and she started grinding against me, shuddering in my arms.

"Do you want your older brother to make you feel good?"

She nodded, moaning.

I slowly, gently, slipped a finger inside of her. She was tighter than any woman I had ever been with. Her moan was loud. It occurred to me that my neighbors would be hearing quite a bit this evening. I didn't care so long as Raisa was happy. I used my thumb to circle her clitoris while my finger slowly pumped inside of me.

"Oh...gods...its better..."

I smiled.

"Better than what, little sister?"

When she spoke I increased the speed of my finger, and added another.

"Better than...oh fuck...better than I'd ever dreamed...I love you. I think of you...oh...oh...often..."

I was very flattered to feature so prominently in her fantasies. I made a decision to go a bit further to make her first time good. I stopped. She looked up at me, frustrated and a little hurt.

"Why did you..."

I smiled and took my own breeches off, which is all that I was sleeping in. I used to sleep naked but a night attack changed that. You never live down having to run out of your tent throwing magical fire with your cock swinging about.

Speaking of which, as soon as my hard shaft popped into sight, Raisa immediately focused on it, staring. Her mouth opened in an adorable little "O" of surprise. She didn't help but she didn't resist as I first took off her shirt and then pulled her breeches off. They almost had to be peeled off of her sex.

She was different from her full-sister Merwyd, and gorgeous. Her skin was pale ivory, almost translucent. Her breasts where small, pert, and upturned. They had felt very firm and I doubted that gravity had much impact on them. Her lovely smooth belly led to small hips that framed a sex surrounded by a small amount of fiery red hair. It looked to me as though she may have trimmed it for me. I couldn't see her tight little ass, but I'd felt it already.

"That...won't, um..." she said, eyes still glued to my cock.

"Have you never seen one before? Does it look strange to you?"

She finally looked me in the eyes.

"Strange? No. But its...far too big to fit in me," she said, shaking her head almost comically.

I laughed out loud and she scowled and hit me in the leg.

"It will, little one, when its time. But it isn't time. Do you know why?"

"No, why?"

"Because I haven't tasted you yet..."

I kissed her on her neck, fiercely, biting her gently as she moaned, moved my mouth to her nipple which I trapped in my lips as my hands squeezed her breasts. She whimpered. I left my hand to continue to tweak her nipple as I kissed my way across her belly, which fluttered under my attentions. Finally I reached her small, perfect sex. Her hair was soaked, her nub and lips were swollen and covered in her fluids. And it was all so compact, just like the rest of her.

I licked gently at her clitoris. She squealed.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, Finn, oh...I don't..."

I gave her no time to recover. I began by licking at her labia, getting her pure scent over my mouth and chin. She groaned, loudly. I darted my tongue inside her tight warmth. She cried out. I began to circle her clitoris with my tongue, and her breathing became ragged. I inserted my fingers again, and she put her hands in my hair, desperately trying to grind me into her sex. I resisted, barely, and started to lap at her clitoris in earnest.

"Please, oh please, I...love..."

She got no more words out as I hooked my fingers to touch the rough flesh at the top of her tunnel. She cried out, once, twice, then collapsed limply to the bed. I worried she had passed out for a moment, until I moved up next to her and she cuddled into my chest. I held her for a little while. This was familiar, she had fallen asleep on me like this when we were much younger. Although my need was great I resolved to let her rest if that was what she needed. There would be other times, or at least thats what I told myself.

My selfless train of thought was disrupted by a small hand moving over my cock. I moaned, involuntarily. It had been a long time since anyone other than me had touched it.

"It's so lovely and hard. Is that...for me?" she said, absent-mindedly stroking my shaft.

"Yes. If you want it. Are you taking Bride's Bane?"

She looked at me with a sly sort of smile and shook her head.

"No. But you're still going to mount me and fill me with your seed. If I get with child, that's just a nice surprise, isn't it?"

Inexperienced or not, no woman had ever said anything like that to me before. I felt my need overpower me. I rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists with my hands as I kissed her. She moaned into my mouth as my cock, now wet with precum, pressed into her belly. I moved lower and it slid between her legs, under her wet, warm slit. She gasped and instinctively moved her hips up and down, which made me wild with desire.

I was unable to resist any longer. I moved my cock to her entrance. If she hadn't been a virgin, I'd have thrust inside her fast and hard. She was wet enough. As it was I entered her slowly, watching her eyes and face carefully. I'd deflowered enough women to know to stop if it hurt, or if they became uncomfortable. I wasn't a complete lout.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, my cock finally entered her completely. She bit her lip and moaned deep in her throat. Her toned legs wrapped around mine and her hands held my head in place, facing her. She was looking into my eyes. I moved slightly and she whimpered and held my head more tightly.

"What's wrong, love?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing. I just wanted to really see you. As you are."

I didn't understand what she meant, but she let go and I kissed her as I began moving. Gods she was responsive. This wasn't like making love to a passive partner, every stroke was returned by a roll of her hips or pulling from her legs to bring me back inside her.

"You are...so good," I barely managed to get out. It was not exactly high poetry but she'd driven me beyond the ability to form flowery prose.

She moaned at my words and moved faster, inspiring me to fuck her harder. She nipped and bit my neck, leaving harsh red marks. Her nails dug into my back. She told me in so many ways how much she loved me. How much she needed this.

"Brother...I'm going to...again. I love you so...much."

Her body quaked, her hips grinding on me uncontrollably. I continued to thrust ruthlessly into her, both wanting to prolong her pleasure and barely able to control my own desire. She moaned with increasing intensity and finally cried out my name:

"Finn, oh gods, I love you!"

Then went collapsed for a moment and I slowed down for a bit. It was more difficult than I make it sound. To her surprise, I pulled out of her. Then, taking advantage of her compliant state, I rolled her over and pulled her hips into the air. She instinctively kept her head down, and looked over her shoulder at me with anticipation in her eyes. She was already an amazing lover.

I entered her swiftly this time, her quim gripping me immediately, her moan loud and shocked. I began to fuck her in earnest, pounding her. I was out of self control, my cock thrusting into her like a weapon. Every stroke was met with her pushing back to me, whimpering, chirping, and finally crying out. I realized she was close again.

"Finn, please fill me. I need your cum. I need it..."

Her words were the deciding moment for me. I came, hard. Harder than I could remember. I felt thick strands of seed leaving me, I felt her wetness gush around my cock and mix with my own fluids. I felt her milking me instinctively, pulling every drop out of me, squeezing and compressing me. I would be sore the next day. She held me in place with her small but strong legs as her own orgasm vibrated through her, gasping. Then she relaxed, releasing me. I pulled out of her and saw our love flow from her. I rolled off of her and laid on my back. She whimpered, displeased for a moment and then rolled over, sprawling on my chest while throwing her leg over me. I chuckled.

"What?" she said, looking up at me.

"I feel as if you've marked me as your territory."

"Well,...I mean...I couldn't ever claim you..." She blushed charmingly and looked away.

I gently touched her chin so she looked at me again. I knew the words that she wanted to hear. I said it in the old way,

"You are property of this prince. No other may have you, without killing me."

She smiled widely, then nestled into my chest.

"Good."

I slept that night, holding her as close to me as I could. When I woke, she was gone, and I felt more than alone. I felt hollow and incomplete. This is how our love was, for a long time.

* * *

It about two years into my service with the Three Sisters that that I found Caliban. Or maybe she found me. It is hard to say with these things.

We were marching as part of a much greater force. Ionna had vanished in the East after her army had collapsed in revolt. Portismunde was convinced that he was close to final victory, so we were going to siege the capital, still held by his sister Orelia. On the way, several forts needed to be reduced. Preferably to piles of stones. We drew the worst assignment: taking the Triangle Fort. It was a banal name for a such a death trap.

It was called the Triangle Fort because it had three sides. Not very creative, I know. The problem was that two of them bordered a river which ran around a small piece of jutting land where it was situated. We had cut off the river both to the North and south with great chains, and we held the other side easily, so they could't resupply. That left only the land-facing wall, which was, unfortunately, the only possible point of assault.

I awoke in the middle of the night, Bartles poking my shoulder.

"Wake up. Parla wants you," was all she said. I grunted in reply but she didn't move.

"Get out Bartles. I'm wearing pants so theres nothing to see," I grumbled.

She snickered and ran out. How she had so much energy at the witching hour I had no idea. I got up, put on a tunic, my leather jerkin, and some well-worn boots, and headed over the to Parla's HQ. The night was lit up by our camp fires and I could hear screams and dim sounds of battle in the distance. The fort was well lit, its black stone shining in the light of flames. It had two towers which were adjacent to the main gain, and then six more spread out along the land-facing wall. The stones fit together like pieces of a puzzle and the surface was unnaturally smooth, making it impossible to scale by hand. It was said that a Pureblood built it with the help of many Stonebloods, who regrettably died in the process.

The HQ was just a larger tent with a banner on it, the three interlocked rings in yellow on a black field. I heard Parla and Sari shouting at each other. This wasn't that unusual, but the tone seemed to be a little harsher. I walked in but didn't draw any attention to myself.

"We're just spending blood! Once we're out of men, Portismunde will just refuse to pay us and take it with his own troops!" Sari was angry, but I'd been around her long enough to hear the desperation in her voice.

"We can do this. We just won't do it with a frontal assault. Not even with the Karrash," Parla said

"Then how?"

Parla looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I tried not to panic. If they were turning to me, then things must be getting pretty desperate.

"All right," she said, waving with her hand, "Everyone out, I have to consult with my war mage."

There was some grumbling but Sari and the lieutenants left. Parla was in charge and everyone knew it.

"What are you thinking?" I asked. I'd never even hinted at being a siege mage. They were rare, expensive, and fragile.

"Well, I was wondering what you could do to get those gates open. Or even make a slight breach. Or just get some men on the other side. We're not doing that well right now."

"Isn't this what the Karrash are for?" Being a Pureblood I had more or less inherited many of my kind's prejudices against the gray people from the Other Side. I had very little trust for them. Even knowing that "our" Karrash had been recruited from clans that had been here for centuries and were not afflicted with the madness of the invaders.

"They're tough, and brave, but they're still just men. Sending anyone directly against the walls is suicide. Even the siege towers we've made aren't enough, because of their damn fire mage."

There was someone who threw fire accurately who kept themselves on the wall but at a respectable distance from our archers. If I could have but seen them, I would have killed them.

I sighed. I thought of the book. I could almost see Merwyd's face, full of worry, begging me not to do it. She was no longer my guiding star, however.

"I have an idea. But you won't like it," I said, finally.

"Try me."

"Send an assault. Make sure they are raw recruits. When it fails have them pull back but not all the way to the camp. Keep them in sight of the fortress. Then I'll...try something."

She looked at me, stone-faced.

"You want me to send them into that meat grinder? For you to try something? They're almost children."

"I told you that you wouldn't like it. They need to be raw so they feel the first shock of battle. Veterans are too used to seeing their friends die, I won't get enough strife from them. It's the only idea I have."

She thought for a few seconds, but she had no other options.

"All right. Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah. Have some kind of force ready to assault if my plan works. If it does, you'll know what to do. If it doesn't, well..."

"If it does work, you'll have the first pick of the loot. That's my promise to you."

Looting was not as haphazard as one might think. Sure, there was an initial rush after a battle to pick the bodies clean or see what valuables might be in the houses. But things in vaults or temples or the property of lords got added to a big pile. Then we picked over it in order of seniority, or, as in this case, the he will of the Commander.

I headed out to watch the assault. It was one thing to demand that men die, but I felt that I had to at least witness their unknowing sacrifice.

After a short time, horns blew and men rushed the wall. It was a small party, the sort of sortie you send to keep the besieged on their guard. But they were already on their guard.

I watched as they closed. As men died to arrow fire, then dropped stones and boiling oil as they reached the wall. Only one group even got a ladder raised into position, but no one was able to start scaling before the retreat was called. It was a massacre.

Of the hundred the made the charge, less than thirty returned. It was far worse than I had asked for. As requested the men were not allowed to return to the camp but instead came to my vantage position in a forward trench. They could still hear the jeers and curses of the enemy. I looked around me, saw men screaming from burns that still smoked, arrow wounds that hadn't even been noticed in their shock, and smoke-red eyes filled with hatred and battle-madness.

Yes. This was what I needed.

I centered myself, drawing on magic of the force of the earth, used commonly to throw targets away from the caster. I drew upon it, and channelled my rage and sorrow. Then, I began to draw upon that of the men around me, worn and shocked out of their innocence. I heard men passing out around me or retching their dinners up as I pulled their emotions from them. It was as though I was distant from them, not even in my own body. I wondered if this was how the gods felt when they slaughtered us for their amusement.

When I was full of the worst of man's hatred and grief, I ran towards the wall. It was always possible I'd get picked off by an arrow at close range, even with the protection of the wind. But at this moment, after that disaster of an attack, no one seemed to be paying attention. I reached the smooth and glossy surface of the wall, the most hated enemy in this battle. I felt rage boiling over within me, as if I might explode at any moment.

I touched the wall, and willed it to move away from me. I don't remember anything for a while after that.

My next memory is of floating away from the fort back to camp. As my consciousness returned, I felt hands, big and strong, holding me. Then I was dropped rather unceremoniously on a cot.

I opened my eyes to the worst hangover that I had ever felt in my life. Bartles and Sari were looking down at me. Sari was smiling grimly while Bartles had no expression at all.

"Did it work?" I croaked. I noticed that my throat was very dry and I was covered in some kind of dust.

Sari just laughed. Bartles nodded and handed me a flask of water. I drank some and then passed out for few hours.

I dreamed of dead men.

I woke again in the dim light of dawn. I could feel a change in the camp. I didn't need to be told that the fortress had fallen. The laughter and shouting told me as much.

"Parla wants to talk to you, if you can move," Bartles said. She was seated near me. Had she been there all night?

"All right," I said, standing. I wobbled for a moment, but remained upright. I left the shade and soft moans of the medical tent into the harsh light of day and looked back at the fortress. There was a breach, sixty feet wide, where I had touched the wall. Behind it was, well, very little any more. The blast and spray of stone hadn't taken down the wall that bordered the water, but it had collapsed a few buildings inside the fortress. The banner above the keep showed three rings, yellow on a black field.

I walked to the HQ, Bartles following behind me nervously.

"You can go now, I'm all right," I told her. She kept following me so I stopped and looked at her over my shoulder. I realized that she had something to say, so I waited.

"Are you a demon or a man?" she asked, finally. The fear in her eyes was now evident to me. It was an honest question, not an accusation. Damn it.

"The truth is that you can be both, child," I said without turning around, before moving to Parla's tent.

Parla nodded to me as I entered. I saw her poring over a map, no doubt planning the next march. She gestured to the corner of the tent.

"There were some fine treasures. But a promise is a promise."

There was a small pile of things, all undoubtedly from the personal collection of the master of the fortress. I rifled through it without any pretense of honor. We were here for money, after all.