Bound in Spirals Ch. 10

Hey! It's me again, DistortedSense. This is Bound in Spirals Chapter 10, as you can tell by the title. As a sort of congratulations to myself for reaching this point, I added 50% more content to this chapter (why did I do that?)! I've passed the 100,000 word mark. That's a lot of words. Anyways, enough with the self back-patting, enjoy the chapter! P.S. Thank you to everyone who has made it this far with me on this insane quest of pain and suffering (sorry Sam), I hope you will continue to read on as I cart us around this strange new world!

Major thanks to my editor, Ed! He's helped me a lot with some good suggestions, along with fixing the numerous typos and grammatical errors that I tend to miss on my own.

All aspects of this story are fictional. Any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are at least 18 years of age.

—————

As they made to get back in the carriage, Darrel clasped his shoulder in a strong grip and looked him in the eye. "We must be cautious here. No matter what you do, do not offend any elf."

Sam was taken aback. "A-Ah, yes of course!" He replied eagerly. 'How would I avoid offending them? It seems like they'll be offended no matter what I do.'

The large man nodded. The look in his steel gray eyes was surprisingly trusting as he handed Sam his unsheathed sword. Taking it, Sam immediately felt a hot tingle run up his spine and his hands began to shake. A wild grin broke out on his face and he couldn't suppress a giggle of glee. Oh how good it was to have his sword back in his hands. He hadn't even noticed how much he'd missed it. Very reluctantly, he sheathed the sword.

The feeling of intense excitement was gone, for now, but oh how he hoped he would be able to fight with the sword again soon. He let out a shaky sigh. 'That is troublesome...' He thought, but he really wasn't as bothered by the feelings as he probably should've been. Sam looked up, realizing Darrel was still there.

"Would you like me to teach you how to use that?" He asked, his deep monotone saying it wouldn't matter to him either way, but his eyes told another story. In those stormy eyes, concern was etched plainly for any who looked close enough.

"Y-Yes! I-I would really appreciate that." Sam replied, his excitement at the prospect bleeding copiously into his words.

Darrel grunted and the concern shifted slightly, becoming less apparent. "When we get a break next, I will show you a bit." He clapped the younger man on the back, showing surprising camaraderie. "Now, let us devise a plan before we reach the city."

The two men strode back to the carriage, where the three women waited. An array of completely different personalities plainly displayed. The patient princess, the impatient handmaiden, and the deceivingly indifferent healer. Sam shook his head to clear it of the building anticipation of the training.

"We must discuss how we will go about this." Fenella said plainly.

"Right to the point then? Very well." Dettella answered, "We need to figure out how to make this group of ours less conspicuous."

Sam surprised himself by speaking, "That won't happen." The others seemed as surprised by his words as he was. "...Ah, I should elaborate. Right, what I mean is that there is no way we won't be conspicuous. No matter how ordinary we might make ourselves seem, we're still a group of humans among a city made up entirely of elves."

"He has a point." Fenella said, her eyes still showing a wariness that made Sam feel... well, to put it frankly, it made him feel awful. "We can't make ourselves less obvious. At least, not with the meager supplies we have at hand."

"Then how do we go about this?" Dettella asked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"We make ourselves seem harmless." Sam said, surprising himself yet again. "We just have to look mundane enough that the elves lose interest."

"Hm... That is a good idea." The princess said, sounding impressed. Sam felt a supreme flush of pride at her words. 'Or is that just the feeling of me blushing?' He was oblivious to Yalene's piercing scowl. "Do you have any suggestions for how to go about this?"

"O-Oh... Uh, I, uh... I didn't really think that far ahead or anything. I kinda j-just blurted out what came to m-my mind." He replied shamefully, still oblivious to Yalene as her scowl turned to satisfaction. "S-Sorry..."

"No matter, we can come up with something." She replied again, with a reassuring smile. Sam felt his blush of pride renew with vigor.

'Uh, both I guess.' He realized, grateful as the attention was turned from him.

"Ah, you're smiling Yalene. Does that mean you've come up with something?"

Dettella's knowing tone took the handmaiden aback. "H-Hah? Ah no... no, I don't really have any ideas."

"Hm, well I suppose that's to be expected. Darrel, do you have anything?" Yalene winced at the words, then renewed her glare at Sam.

'It's rude to stare, let alone glare.' He thought, his mind wandering away as the other three continued the discussion. 'Why does this woman hate me so much...? Is it really just because of Letta? No, there is something significantly more personal about her hatred. Perhaps it was just Letta at first, but now she dislikes me for something of my own doing. I can feel it...' His thoughts cut off as he realized they were asking him something.

"Would you be alright with this idea?" Fenella repeated. He glanced at the three of them, who looked at him expectantly. He held back a double take when he glimpsed the faint hint of blush on Dettella's cheeks.

"A-Ah, um, sorry could you repeat that? I uh, zoned out a bit there." He requested with an apologetic smile as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"You would play the fiancé to the princess." Fenella said.

"Eh?" Sam blinked, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Sorry, I don't think I understand."

"You would pretend to be the princess's fiancé, and play the mindless newlyweds." Fenella elaborated with a slight frown as she looked at him.

"I... What?" He fumbled his words in his embarrassment. "E-Eh, would, would that b-be necessary? Sh-Shouldn't I just be a guard or something?" Next to him, the princess's subtle blush deepened.

"No offense Samson, but you don't really have the look of a guard. It might work if it were someone else, but princess's are expected to have the best of guards." The healer explained. "What you do have, is the look of the submissive type of husband that noble ladies seem to so often have a preference for nowadays."

Sam worked his mouth wordlessly, unable to form a response. His cheeks felt on the verge of melting off. His first instinct was to refuse, as such a thing was beyond him. But, the longer he thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea. Or maybe he was just convincing himself it was. Mind reeling, he staggered. Planting a balancing hand on the carriage.

"I... Y-Yes, th-thi-this s-sounds g-good." He managed to squeeze out, his voice tight. As he spoke, Dettella released what sounded like a soft sigh of relief.

"This way we will appear to just be tourists of a sort. Elves get those often enough that it won't be suspicious." Fenella went on. "The princess is quite clever, as expected."

Sam's eyes widened. 'Sh-She suggested it?' He tried to glance at her inconspicuously, but she'd been looking at him and caught his eyes. His cheeks turned from a rosy pink to nigh on crimson. She smiled at him shyly. He felt like he was about to pass out.

"You don't need to start acting yet." Darrel said with a flash of amusement in his eyes, which for him might as well have been a bellow of laughter. "You can wait until we get to the gates."

Sam would have blushed even harder had it been possible.

"Anyways," Fenella continued without noticing, "Sam we will have to adjust your clothing slightly. You look a bit too... disheveled, for a princess's fiancé."

"O-Oh, yeah. I'll put on my clean shirt." He replied, glad to shift the topic. He quickly went to the trunk of the carriage, and pulled out Fenella's chest to get to his own.

"About that." Fenella said, appearing beside him. "You should wear your cloak as well. It will add to the appearance of nobility."

"A-Ah, should I?" He said, feeling a bit flustered as he saw Dettella had followed her. "Won't I look a bit ridiculous in it?"

"Uh... No? Why would you think you'd look ridiculous?" She asked, puzzled.

"Ah, um... No reason really, I just uh don't really know what nobles are supposed wear or anything." He said, surprised to find he was ashamed by that fact.

"Yes, that cloak is of very fine quality. It is quite appropriate for a nobleman." She told him. It seemed as though her previous wariness around him was withering with a little time, and Sam was relieved when she gave him a small smile. "If it becomes necessary, I'm going to be playing your servant while we're in the city. Though, I'm still going to expect you to cook for me once we get out."

Sam pulled out his only clean shirt, the plain dark blue one he'd been given him by the straldan army. He hesitated before pulling off his dirty shirt, glancing surreptitiously at Dettella who was barely around corner of the carriage. She was watching him intently, and Sam felt his blush return in full force.

"Ah, yes of course. I don't mind cooking." He replied as he pulled on the clean shirt, quickly adding, "I-I mean, if you really want me to, that is."

"Yes, I really want you to. I doubt we can get a better meal in the city." She said, and Sam felt another flush of pride. He was glad he'd been able to do his father's recipe honor, despite the unfamiliar ingredients.

As soon as he thought of his father, he froze. A feeling of despair set over him in a second. A tangible gloom filled the air about him, making Fenella cast a look over him that carried a renewed wariness. The purple circles under his eyes seemed to stand out more, and his expression darkened noticeably. A mixture of grief, resentment and anguish warring with each other.

"Dad... Dad, why... why did you leave me with this curse, with this..." He began muttering, barely audible. His limp arms hung down from his hunched back and his unkempt, wavy hair fell over his eyes. "I... I miss you... I... I hate you..." His muttering began to become incoherent.

"Samson." Dettella shook his shoulder, and his head snapped up. His hard, frantic eyes met hers and instantly softened. She seemed shocked by the sudden reaction. It was as though she had repelled the darkness. She felt both elated that she could evoke such a change, but sorry that there had to be one in the first place. "Is something wrong?"

"Huh? Ah, no. Sorry, just an uh... unpleasant memory." He said, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Hurriedly pulling out the cloak from the chest, Sam tried to avoid further questions. "You sure I need to wear this?"

"...Yes." Fenella replied after a moment of cautious examination.

"A-Alright." He said resignedly, flinching at her gaze.

"We must hurry. Those elves seem impatient." The healer said, seemingly eager to get going. "Oh, and you should bind that sword to your waist. Nobles generally don't wear their swords on there backs."

"O-Okay." Sam did as she suggested, then pulled the navy blue cloak over his shoulders and looked down, straightening it over his coat. 'I need to get some more variety in my clothing colors.' He thought, looking down at the array of blues. He clasped the silver pin, and let out a breath. "A-Alright then, let's go." He said, trying to look confident.

———

Samson looked around. 'Where...?' Around him was a room seemingly constructed entirely of magic. The walls, floor, and ceiling glowed with different colors of magic. He looked down at himself. His body was one of bright, silvery blue. He raised his hand and inspected it. It was transparent. The small ringlets were the exact same as his own magic, when he'd been alive still. 'What is this?' He wondered.

'Welcome, new god.' A voice reached him, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. It was not extremely deep, yet it was still very masculine sounding. 'You must have many questions, but for now you will have to be patient.'

Samson searched the room, trying to find the source of the voice. 'Where are you?'

'You are looking at me. I am this room you are in, this amalgamation of magic.' It replied. 'Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss. Forgive me for not coming in contact with you sooner. Unfortunately, I have been trying to quell the distress your sudden appearance has caused.'

'Me? My appearance? Where? I don't understand?' Samson replied, trying to make sense of what the person was trying to say.

'Yes, you have many questions. But again, please let me speak without interruption. This will take time to explain, and I must be fairly thorough about it. While I have become patient over my many centuries of existence, no one is perfect. It is troubling that I do not have more time to speak to you, but unfortunately we both have our own wards we must return to quickly. So, for now, just sit and listen.'

———

Sam blinked, unconsciously cocking his head to one side like a puppy. The array of sights, sounds and smells before him perplexed him deeply. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected an elven city to be like, but this certainly wasn't it. Where were the expertly crafted glass spires, or houses magically grown from the trees, or... or...

What was arrayed before him was really quite disappointing somehow. Elves were supposed to be elegant, beautiful, those sorts of things right? Well, the city of Fraeline was neither beautiful nor elegant, that was for sure. The constant buzzing of dense population was almost deafening. He almost didn't hear the tolling of the bells over all the racket. Well, at least the bells sounded nice.

Sam shoved down the urge to gag. The moment they'd entered through those enormous wood gates, the overwhelming smell of shit and sweaty people clocked him right in the nose. Even when he plugged his nostrils he could smell it. It was almost as if he could taste the impregnating fetor. He wouldn't have been surprised to see a greenish brown haze.

Scanning the immediate area, he saw hut upon wood hut clustered so close together it was as though they were huddling up against the chill. Cold gazes looked on from windows and sides of the street as their carriage pulled through the throng. Some sort of blue fruit was thrown by an unseen elf. 'Talk about passive-aggressive... At least let me see your face if you're gonna assault us with fruit.'

The carriage rumbled over the rough cobblestone streets for what Sam guessed was around 15 minutes. Eventually, one of their escorts pulled up to the window and Fenella opened it for him to speak.

"We will show you in to the governor." He said, offering no explanation.

Sam hesitated, then spoke softly to his companions. "Uh, they're taking us to their governor..."

"Yes, that's what I expected." Dettella replied. "It's fine, we will meet with them."

"...Alright, if you say so." He said, then turned back to the elf. "Very well, lead the way."

The elf nodded and pulled away from the door, which Yalene opened to allow the princess out, followed by Sam. Taking in the surroundings, he sucked in air. 'That is a lot of color.' He thought, looking at the enormous manor before him. The tall brick walls were painted with a variety of neon colors, matching the exterior of the house Sam caught a glimpse of inside. 'I bet I know who designed that sign out front...' Putting a hand to his head, he looked away from the dizzying rainbow.

"Remain with the carriage, we will return shortly." Dettella told Yalene and Fenella, who looked ready to follow. Then, to Darrel she whispered, "I've heard rumor that the governor of Fraeline is an eccentric, but relatively harmless. But I'm not sure how accurate that is, so be wary regardless."

Then, she began striding confidently toward the grand steel gate after their escorts, her hands clasped before her. Sam was transfixed by her for a moment, 'She's a real princess...' He was still taken aback by her gracefulness. Darrel nudged his shoulder and he shook himself from his reverie. Glancing at the imposing guard for a moment, he started forward. His left hand resting casually on his sword pommel, as Fenella had instructed.

"Try to relax a bit." The sword captain muttered, just behind his right shoulder. "Straighten your back. Yes, that'll do."

Sam felt exceedingly ridiculous. He wasn't a nobleman by any stretch of the imagination, and any trained eye could probably see that easily. His anxiety started to catch up to him and he felt his hands shaking slightly. His pace quickened without him noticing, and soon he was caught up to the princess. She glanced at him, noticing his worried expression.

"Relax, Samson. You're doing fine." She said.

"I-I'm not a lord or anything, somebody's gonna notice..." Sam whispered back urgently.

"You'd be surprised. In recent times, it's popular for ladies to marry men who are easy to manipulate." She replied, reassuringly. Then quickly added, "Not that you're like that or anything. I-I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"Huh? O-Oh, don't worry I wasn't offended. I'm aware of my, er, disposition." He replied, still feeling anxious, but not quite so much. "Wh-What do you think the governor wants us for?"

"Ah, most likely just to ask what we're doing in elven lands. All you have to do is translate for me, I've been trained as a diplomat."

"O-Okay, that's reassuring." Sam replied, stopping in front of the gates as a pair of guards opened them when the escorts nodded.

They strode through, he and Dettella side by side, flanked by the escorts and followed closely by Darrel. Finally looking up from the cobbled road, Sam marveled at the manor house. It was clearly three storied, with tall stained glass windows lining the front from floor to ceiling. The bright colors of the glass seemed dull in comparison to the exaggerated blues, greens and reds of the exterior that hurt Sam's eyes to look at.

'This person... they must be color blind to be able to stand such colors.' He thought, squinting at the huge structure. Aside from the house, the grounds of the manor were quite beautiful. Decorated ponds, carefully trimmed trees, and grand gazebos gave the land an elegant atmosphere. It would have been quite nice if it weren't for the giant blemish of a house.

He was still grimacing in the direction of the house when they finally reached it a few minutes later. Another pair of guards at the entrance pushed open the tall, orange doors. A woman dressed in a bright pink suit waited inside. Her suit matched her hair so closely that at first Sam had mistaken it for a hood. It wasn't until he saw the long, pointed ears peeking out that he realized it was hair.

She gave a smooth bow, then spoke in fluent English. "Welcome to the lady governor's manor. She is glad to welcome the princess and her husband. I am Giela, one of her butlers. I will escort you to the waiting room."

Giela turned and strode down the hall, not waiting for a response. Dettella began following the butler a moment later and Sam hastened his step to catch up again. He glanced back, seeing that their previous escorts weren't following. They were led down a colorful hall into a similarly colorful room.

'This governor really likes to fuck with people's eyes...' Sam thought, looking around at the small room's furnishings. It was decorated with heavy blue drapes along the walls, intricate gold patterns on them glinting from the lantern light. Plush yellow chairs were spread around a red coffee table. Swirls of purple and green carpet finished the garish ensemble. 'Damn, this is giving me a headache.'