One of Us

This is a standalone story that features some of my recurring characters. This one is just a huge chunk of gentle, teasing maledom.

It was near sunset. Though it's been drizzling throughout the day, and clouds still rolled heavy through the sky, it was warm; typical fickle Kontarian summer. The weather would definitely not deter the festival bonfires, which were now starting all throughout the Ritual Field.

One went up by the forest wall, where some three dozen people were already gathered. A young man named Aerin sat on a wooden log and watched the wind foam the tall grass. It was strange that life was carrying on as usual. So much had happened over the past few months, so much had changed.

Someone patted him on the shoulder, and sat down by his side. It was his friend Moyna, and her crooked smile.

"Watchya thinking about?" she asked.

"Stuff," he replied.

"Where's Gabrielle?"

Aerin smiled. "She's with Haedde, getting ready."

"Excited about the ritual, is she?"

"Kind of stressed, but that only makes her put on a brave face." His smile grew dreamy. "You know what a dork she can be."

"Why's she stressed? Nothing scary about it." Something about Aerin's expression made her pause. "She knows how the ritual goes, right?"

He tried to look innocent. "She'll find out." Moyna said nothing for a moment, then smirked, and jabbed his ribs.

"You're a dog, Aerin. You seem nice, but you're such a fucking dog." He had the decency not to deny that. "So funny though. Would you ever have believed that someone like her was going to be initiated? I swear, life is ridiculous sometimes."

"Yeah." He leaned back, and gazed at the heavy clouds passing overhead. "You know, that's what I was actually thinking about. Life can sometimes be ridiculous."

Picture this: you are born to a princely family. You are brought up in a strict and puritanical society. Though your instincts rebel, you can see that your life will always demand a closely scrutinised outward correctness, and that your heart's keen desires will always have to be a guarded secret. And one day, completely unexpectedly, you get an opportunity to abandon all that. You tear yourself from the luxuries, the palaces, from your own noble House, and leap into the unknown; and, still not quite believing what has happened, you end up on the floor of an actual witch hut, in Kontaria of all places. What gives?

Gabrielle corrected herself. Haedde was not a witch. She was a shaman. There's a difference, though Gabrielle wasn't entirely sure what it was.

Either way, this place was slightly alarming. It was a circular wooden hut, with one window, a sunken fireplace in the middle, and... lots of stuff. Dried roots, herbs, cloves, sticks of bark, bleached bird skulls, clay jars, mortars and pestles, mushrooms on strings, bear claws, sacks, caskets, beeswax combs, gourds, jay feathers, sets of fine copper tools, salt crystals, grains of incense, and at least one stuffed toad. All of this was either stacked on the shelves, or hanging copiously from the ceiling.

No less alarming was Haedde herself. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front Gabrielle, tossing scrying pebbles, and muttering to herself. She looked to be roughly five hundred years old. A thin wisp of smoke from a small censer was swirling around her. She was surrounded by tiny mixing bowls filled with dyes. Her fingers were stained, red and blue and black.

But most alarming of all was Gabrielle herself. She was seated in her skimpy knickers alone. Alright, undressing in front of strangers isn't exactly calming, but Haedde was after all a physician of sorts, so Gabrielle could swallow that. Most physicians, however, don't paint all over your skin with runes. The cryptic letters now covered her thighs, stomach, breasts, back, and shoulders, dense inscriptions in red and blue and black.

Picture this before moving on, because it's a memorable sight: Gabrielle was a good looking girl, enough so that she'd been treated with suspicion by the morally upright, who just assumed she'd be given to earthly pleasures and enjoy leading young men astray. (They'd been totally right, but that's incidental). Her light blond hair had been shorn mid-way through her neck. Always fond of active pastimes, she had a fine, toned body. There was something steely about her, a fight response to feeling anxious -- a straight back, a curl to her lip, an attentive glint in her dark blue eyes. And on top of all that, the runes.

The runes were a part of the ritual. In less than an hour, at sunset, Gabrielle was to be initiated into the community of Kontaria. She hoped that the ritual itself, at least, wouldn't be as alarming. Aerin had assured her that she'd actually enjoy it, but was for some reason vague on its details.

Haedde determined something from how the pebbles fell and grabbed Gabrielle's wrist. With another low, throaty incantation she painted three new, short words.

"We are almost done." Her voice was gravelly and sure. "We only need one last answer: who should we thank for bringing you here?" Gabrielle did not understand, and only blinked. "How does a high-born lady from Harmen end up on my floor, getting ready for her initiation? What spirit drove you here?"

"Um." Yeah, right? Good question.

Aerin was largely to blame, of course. When the Kingdom of Harmen was going to war with Kontaria late that spring, she never thought it would affect her pre-planned future, a noble wife in some splendid palace. But one day, fates threw a young Kontarian prisoner of war into the dungeon of her castle. She just had to sneak around and get to know him, didn't she. She just had to discover that he understood her better than pretty much anyone in Harmen, didn't she. She just had to break him out and run away with him, didn't she. That's exactly how you end up in witch huts.

"I couldn't just let Aerin sit there in chains. They were going to kill him."

Haedde inclined her head, but her gaze remained fixed on Gabrielle's eyes.

"Compassion, then? Very well. And... he's a handsome lad, isn't he, our Aerin?"

"Excuse me?" The pitch of Gabrielle's voice was an answer enough. He wasn't handsome, he was flat-out gorgeous. It's that unruly auburn hair that gets into his clear blue eyes, and that enthusiastic grin, and, lady, you should see him naked, you should see his lithe body, you should see the way his abs flex when his hips buck forward and he plunges into you—

On second thought, Haedde was this village's healer. She probably poked around Aerin's body ever since he was a little kid and was perfectly aware how it looked, hopefully except for that last part.

"Compassion and desire," Haedde surmised. "A heady mix. They drove you to help him. But was it them, too, that made you run off together with him?"

Again, Gabrielle had no good answer. This was certainly not a kind of conversation she was used to having. Also... Haedde was a priestess of sorts, after all, so she surely didn't just openly mention sexual desire? Maybe the word had less explicit overtones in the Kontarian dialect than it did in Harmeni. Yeah, it probably did.

"I don't know... I think meeting Aerin just made me realise that there were people in the outside world more alike me than my own compatriots." Who found her urges natural rather than threatening, for starters.

Haedde smiled. She took a little wooden box, and with a tiny bone spoon she transferred a bit of orange powder into a small clay bowl. She then added a smidge of water from a diminutive copper pot, and with her last clean finger mixed it into a thick paste. The dye ready, she poked Gabrielle right over the heart. A true physician's approach to personal space, Gabrielle thought, trying not to flinch. Those weren't letters that Haedde was drawing on her now -- it was an abstract symbol, of circular lines and simple geometric forms.

"A tiger sigil," Haedde said. "Not very many tigers left in Kontaria. Pity -- beautiful creatures, especially in freshly fallen snow. We associate them with courage. Do you know why courage is important?" Gabrielle wasn't sure if she was expected to actually reply. Haedde placed one final stroke of paint and looked her in the eyes. "It's because it enables change. And this is our one purpose in life. All things grow." She nodded, picked up the bowls, and stood up. "Wait until the paint sets, then we go."

A short while later, Gabrielle put on her dress. It was such a small thing compared to the chaste and lavish garments she would wear in Harmen. Knee-high, short-sleeved, thin. But those were typical Kontarian summer clothes. She supposed that once she got used to it, she would no longer feel so exposed.

"Here, carry this," Haedde said, and shoved a flat clay bowl and a sealed clay flagon into her arms. Back in Harmen, Gabrielle had servants to carry things for her. Well, okay. This she could get used to as well.

Strange shaman. Strange letters. Strange clothes. Gabrielle got lost in thoughts as they walked towards the Ritual Field. It was a ceremony to welcome her in her new home, but none of this felt too homelike. The path turned among the ferns by the forest's edge, bypassing the village. Soon, the fire-dotted field appeared in front of them; and before long, they reached their gathering, and walked in among the people.

Gabrielle sought out Aerin's eyes. His knuckles were at his mouth, the flames were reflected in his pale blue eyes, and he looked dangerously close to bursting with pride. She cracked a smile, and tried not to think too much about the small crowd now looking at her. Fortunately they were all here for the festival night, and not solely for her, but until whatever this ritual involved was done she'd have to endure being the centre of their attention.

She already knew most of these people -- at least the faces. Remembering their strange Kontarian names was a whole other challenge. Most of them were Aerin's friends or family, but three present village elders in bright colourful robes and beaded necklaces lent an official air to the occasion.

Haedde exchanged a few words with the elders. In the west, beyond the hills, the pallor of the sky gave way to a vivid orange. Sunset. A liminal time. Neither day nor night. A time for change. All things grow. The shaman turned to Gabrielle, and cleared her throat.

The ritual turned out not to be alarming at all. Haedde filled the bowl with a dark, brown liquid from the flagon. It was that sour millet wine, fairly strong, that the Kontarians seemed for some reason to enjoy, and used especially copiously for ceremonial purposes. She then offered the bowl to everyone in turn. "One of us," some chanted. Someone started beating out a steady rhythm.

Aerin took his sip, trying not to laugh. So did that girl with a crooked smile -- what's her name again? Then Aerin's best friend -- who only went by his nickname, Leapfrog, for which Gabrielle was very grateful. Tassilo and Fina -- these two names she had to remember, Aerin's parents. Last of all, Haedde handed the bowl to Gabrielle.

"One of us. Bottom up, girl."

There was not much of the wine left. Gabrielle took a deep breath and poured it all into her in one go. Cheers erupted around her. This stuff wasn't as bad as when she'd first tried it, she thought. Maybe she could develop a taste for it eventually.

"This is done, then! Kontaria accepts you. Now, in the second part of the ritual, it is up to you to accept Kontaria." Damn, there was more to this? The shaman looked around the crowd. "Shall I carry out the rite, or is anyone willing to take this up?"

Aerin must have been waiting for this. As soon as Haedde spoke, he hugged Gabrielle from behind, and smiled brightly over her shoulder.

"I'll do it!" he offered. Haedde looked at him, stern-faced.

"Yes," she said. "I suspected you'd like to."

There was a brief outburst of good humour as Aerin rolled his eyes.

"Did something hilarious just happen?" Gabrielle hissed into his ear.

"Not really," he whispered. "We'll need to take a little walk for this, I'll explain on the way." He was a bit too upbeat. Something was definitely up.

To her relief, the people's attention was slowly turning away from her. A small barrel of oat beer appeared from somewhere and was being opened. That one man with a very clear voice was fiddling with his lute, looking up to the clouds for rain. But some people still wanted a word with her -- surprisingly, first among them was one of the village elders.

"One more thing," he said. "Though you were of an enemy nation, you have saved one of ours. And the information you gave us helped us end the war with fewer losses. As such, we want to give you something on this occasion. To show you that we'll remember." He held out in his two hands some sort of a folded cloth. She only had to look at its colours to know what it was. Purple, white, gold. A flag of Harmen. A prized war trophy that they must have won from the invaders' camp. Gabrielle looked for something to say, but the man just smiled, patted her once on the shoulder, and walked away.

Leapfrog offered some congratulations and bad jokes, as did a bunch of other vaguely familiar people. Then Fina appeared by their side -- a very comely woman in the typical Kontarian way, streaks of grey in her light brown hair. Without warning, she gave Gabrielle a big hug. It felt... homelike, kind of.

"I'm so happy to have you among us, kid."

It turns out that if you rescue your significant other from a dungeon, their parents end up really liking you. This trick always works, and it's really surprising that it isn't used more often.

"The family from Hakkandi is here, I'll introduce you. But we've got all night for that, so don't worry, you two don't need to hurry."

And then finally Aerin managed to nudge her towards the trees. A song was breaking out by the fire -- some folk nonsense about a girl raised by strict parents sneaking out to dance. It was pretty catchy. Even the cat observing from under a pine tree was bobbing its head to the rhythm.

Seated on a log, Leapfrog watched the pair retreat among the trees. Someone walked up to him. He looked up and saw Moyna, drinking from an ale keg she'd been the first to procure.

"Oh, look at them," he said. "Improbable lovers, united despite all odds."

"It's so romantic it makes you want to retch."

"Makes you want to kick their lovebird arses."

Moyna took a thoughtful sip. "Kinda makes you horny too, though."

"Yeah." He tapped her on the hip. "Hey, fancy a quick fuck before the bards warm up?"

She calmly finished the deep quaff that she'd been in the middle of, then pulled him up by his shirt.

"Yeah, sure. Come on."

The pathway inclined up among the trees. It was getting dim, but real darkness wouldn't fall for a long time yet. The ferns slid damp along their knees. Aerin put his hand on Gabrielle's waist.

"So, how is my Kontarian girl feeling?"

She smiled, flatly. "Like I'm playing dress-up." She looked at the runes which covered her forearms. Go figure, a lifetime of elite education, and at nineteen she ends up illiterate. The runes were so alien, the colours in her hand so familiar. "I'm Harmeni, Aerin. To the bone."

His good cheer did not falter. "Yeah, you're Harmeni. Nobody wants you to deny that. But now you're also Kontarian. It's not one or the other." She gave him a sceptical look. "We're not greedy for pure bloodlines, okay? You should see the seaside villages, where merchants come from all over the world and sometimes settle. Kontarians of all shapes and colours."

"I'd like to go there... I've never even seen the sea, you know?"

"What?!" he stopped, abruptly. Harmen was huge, but it was landlocked. He'd never thought about this before. "Okay, right as the weather turns, we're taking two days off and riding to the beach. You'll really like that, I promise."

"Okay, okay." She smiled more openly now, and glanced back. "The shaman lady is pretty intense, isn't she?"

"Haha, yeah. But you can trust her, really. Remember, if you ever need to talk or something, she's always there with her herbal teas. For you, too." She looked at her feet. He'd been doing this ever since they came here -- introducing her to people, pointing out who was helpful and trustworthy. As literally the only person she knew in this new life, he could wield a great power over her, to make sure he was the only person she trusted, make her depend on him. Instead, he did everything he could to ferret out and dispose of any power imbalance between them. She wondered if he was even aware of that, or was it too obvious for him to consider. She unconsciously hugged him closer.

He sniffed her hair. "Mm. Incense. Hey, show me your flag!"

"It's not a flag, it's a banderole."

"Same difference?"

"No, a banderole is very long and narrow. It's attached to a knight's lance. A flag is attached to a flagpole. Flags can be large standards, which have their own bearers and are super important, or regular battle standards, usually banners but sometimes also pennants. Remember that banners are different from gonfalons, because a gonfalon does not display the arms on its tailed part, as a banner does, and usually hangs from a horizontal bar, and is more ceremonial really. Though a royal banner of arms is technically a gonfalon, of course, and also has its own bearer, traditionally the most senior knight of the Order of Algar. A banderole can be flown off a building if you really want to, but it's a social blunder to do so if you have some other flag available, a pennant or better."

"Huh," Aerin said.

"Yeah." She unfurled the banderole. It was longer than a man's height, but no wider than a hand. It was made of fine cloth, tapered as it went, and near its wide end -- there it was, emblazoned with a golden thread. The royal Eagle of Harmen.

It was the coat of arms of the country, and of the royal family in particular. It also featured in the arms of its cadet branches. Such as her own, the noble and ancient House of Lhamedos.

She'd ridden under the sign of the House of Lhamedos many times, with her parents or alone. The people in the streets would gawk at it, and stand wonderstruck. And she would look from above, power and prestige radiating off her, aloof and awe-inspiring.

Yeah. She was kind of going to miss that.

She sighed. They entered a lush grassy clearing, where several massive old oaks with pale, almost white trunks grew. Aerin stopped. Gabrielle shook off the memories.

"Okay, fine. Guess I'm now really the Tiger of Kontaria, the fiercest warrior in the land!" She put her hands on her hips and the banderole, which she'd tossed over her shoulder, fluttered like a cape in the wind. She was kidding, but he actually sort of agreed. That whole dungeon breakout was the gutsiest thing he'd ever seen, and she'd done it for him. "Well, anyway. What's the next part of the ritual?"

"It's about binding your body to the land, making yourself one with the soil, sort of. You know, like you ceremonially eat something raw that's grown out of Kontarian earth, show that you accept the land's vitality as a part of yourself."

"Okay, got it. So should we find some berries or..." Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you smiling like that?"

He slowly strolled over to her, all the while looking to the sky with great innocence. "Well, eating is not the only way to accept something raw and Kontarian into your body. For example, for the sake of the argument, let's just suppose that some Kontarian were to ceremonially come inside you."

She chortled. Of course. Of fucking course. "And this other way is shaman-approved?"

"Oh, yes!" He was suddenly totally earnest. "I think most new people go for the cum. The ritual is just more fun that way. Eating a girl out counts, too."