This story was written by me by Darkenaz, playing with my novel’s ideas. It happen 35 years before ATOM, when Leira was just captured and Lorian still didn’t love her.
New Lunar Year
Alnam
Everything is going as I planned. The release of a few slaves caused just enough commotion to draw Lorian’s attention and give him some joy with the punishment of the escapers, but not distract the fae celebrating the end of the lunar year. No one noticed that I had left the hall, shifted form and changed my clothes.
The dark, feather-edged robes strain uncomfortably on my body, exuding scent of violet. The smell of fear, pain and grief. I would like to get rid of it, as well as the short, slender stature and black hair. But I cannot. I need them for my revenge.
Revenge… Not really. Just a tiny grain of dust in Lorian’s eye, which stinging and unpleasant enough, but he blinks it out quickly. That’s all I have left… sprinkle dust in his eyes and hope one day he goes blind.
My disguise is perfect. The low ranked fae suspected nothing when I sent for Leira with her in the form of Lorian.
Leira… The woman who fills so much of our dear Lord’s time nowadays. Ever since he dragged her here from that hunt, he can’t get enough of her – or so the rumour says.
A human woman… – I sneer. – Lorian has always been given to weird whims. It could be that she’s just a shallow entertainment for him, but if he’s even a little attached to her, she’s worth working on. Without mercy. To make her more terrified of him and be less amusing to him.
Outside, the snow reflects the moonlight, casting a grey haze over the stones and arcades. The nes of my boots echo through the empty corridor. On this night most fae are busy with their own pleasure in halls, dining rooms, dormitories, inside the woods…
I stop in front of the double-winged door covered with roots and vines, where I have called the woman. For a moment, doubt creeps into my throat. What if the servant had suspected something and hadn’t delivered my command? Or what if the woman had sensed something? After all, Lorian rarely sleeps out of his territory… Fortunately, the New Lunar Year favours many abnormal acts, easing the rigidity of rules and conventions. Besides, it doesn’t matter what she thinks; she wouldn’t dare defy her lord’s will.
I enter.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, with her back to me. Her blonde hair glistens silver in the moonlight streaming in through the window, lending a dark silhouette to her horns and her body. Her posture is straight, only her shoulders seem a bit rigid.
I clench my mouth to hold back a triumphant smile. Here is the woman who is so dear to him.
And I can do with her whatever I want.
In Lorian’s body, I have every right, and no one can hold me responsible.
Anything I want…
I can almost feel my fingers digging into the soft skin of her neck as she squirms beneath me, her muscles tensing around me in protest. Her vulnerability sets my blood on fire.
He holds her close, maybe even likes her… And I can hit where it hurts most. Spoiled king… He knows nothing of failure, pain, death – which he dispenses so generously. The agony that the torments of those close to him can cause… The loss of them.
Time to show him.
“Take off your clothes!” I instruct quietly, but without contradiction, as Lorian would. My voice trembles with desire and revenge.
At first she doesn’t react, so I step closer to take her off if I have to. At last she obeys. Slowly, gradually, she parts with the simple uniform of the servants, her underwear. Coldly, unemotionally, without showing fear.
It looks like it will be harder to break her than I expected. No matter; I will enjoy it all the more.
I watch as she lies back on the bed, her wavy hair spreading over the dark linens. Her round breasts, her slender waist, are illuminated by the faint light.
I unbutton the black tunic, the tight trousers. I’m relieved as it all falls to the floor and the choking violet scent fades from my nose.
As I lean over her, she spreads her legs, her hands resting surrenderingly by her head. My grip is bound like handcuffs around her wrists.
How willing she is… I wonder wh…?
Our eyes meet.
In her icy blue eyes there is no sign of surrender. They’re full of the will to fight, glowing with the fire of despise. So intense that my gripping fingers loosen.
These eyes…
Narlia looked at me like this for the first time when I let Corvel come with me to Dal’coler. And the way she looked after his death… every single day. During the months of her illness. Until the last. As if I was the one who killed our son…
Lorian’s skin is unbearably tense on me. Lorian, whose hands are covered with so much blood…
… whom this woman has every reason to look at the way she does.
We all laughed at her on that hunt. We laughed at her suffering, while she took the life of someone she loves with her own hands.
Her gaze cuts into the old wounds of my soul as a knife.
Perhaps they never healed.
Perhaps I don’t want them to heal.
Neither does she. This woman… in a human body disfigured by horns and tail… Someone who knows my pain intimately. Someone who has suffered as much in her short life as I have over the centuries.
I want to hate her. To despise, to hurt.
But I cannot.
My knees go weak, my forehead falls on her chest.
She is Lorian’s wench… his slave…
I am not able to cause her any more pain.
My lips gently touch her breast, trailing down her belly to her spread legs.
I can’t erase her suffering, I can give her a few pleasant minutes.
My tongue strokes the curves of her most sensitive part – saltier than the taste of fae women. In my own form, I would never touch a human in this way. But in Lorian’s body I am free. He doesn’t have to worry about sinking deeper. And if he would, I wouldn’t mind it at all.
I relax into the feeling. Into the desire to give her pleasure. To break the resistance she’s built in her soul instead of her body. I want her to enjoy me. To give herself to me. To trust me. Even if she doesn’t want to.
Even if it’s impossible.
Her breathing quickens, becomes wetter, her body twitches – even though she’s fighting so hard to hide it.
She wants to suffer and hate.
As I do.
To feel the pain. Feel that she’s alive. That there is something to live for.
I’m throbbing. I want to be inside her, filling her body, her soul, her mind. To take the place of her suffering – if only for a few seconds.
Her nails dig into the blanket, her back arched. She longs for me – though I am the last she longs for.
Perhaps it will be more comfortable for her not to see my face. Lorian’s face…
I gently take her shoulders and turn her onto her abdomen to have her back to me. After all, I don’t expect anything in return. When I lift her hips, she pushes them towards me, almost undetectably.
Seems I’ve managed to break her sanity.
I smile. Sincerely. In a way I haven’t in a very long time.
I sink into her. Slowly, carefully, but I don’t feel any resistance. A moan leaves her mouth, but only softly, stifled.
So you enjoy … Good. You will. Even if you want to, even if you don’t.
A black lock of hair falls into my sight. I close my eyes to not see it. I immerse into my feelings, into the inviting warmth of her body. I let the walls of pain I’ve rised around my soul for years collapse. With each thrust, lower and lower. I let my repressed loneliness find a partner in her and become one with her.
Her body moves willingly, in rhythm with mine. She tenses, pulsing around me. I cum with her.
She tries to pull away, but I hold her still, deep. I want to melt into her and never leave.
But I must.
I don’t know how much time has passed. I must return before someone would come looking for me.
I take on Lorian’s clothes, my hatred, my pain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her sit up, pull the blanket over her, dig into her hair.
What has got into me? When did I get so weak?
I pause at the door to say something.
Even what? She’s just a human.
Leira
This fae… He wasn’t Him. – I blink in the dark room.
The smell of him… like a fresh-cut tree, a forest after a rain… The familiar violet scent that makes my stomach cramp with fear was barely noticeable. There was no sign of shadows, nor of a greedy, possessive passion.
This calm, measured care that I haven’t had from anyone for a long time…
Something that could not exist in this cruel place.
I wipe a cold tear from my cheek.
When did it spill? It’s alien, like it’s not even mine.
Because it’s not mine.
It belongs to the woman I was before. My own tears ran dry long ago.
No matter how this man treated me, he’s also a High Fae. A really powerful one, if he is able to shape shift.
He could have hurt me. Just like him.
But he didn’t.
I embrace my drawn up knees. Warm fluid flows out of me. Something Lorian would never have done without prevention. I didn’t get any of that tea today – is it even tea? – he sends to my room before and after his visits.
Dread spins a web around me.
What will I get for this…?
Ruthless smile. Blood. Pain. Beautiful, cruel laugh.
How could I let this happen?
I had no other choice. Going against the will of a High Fae is dangerous. Deadly.
I took off my clothes, spread my legs.
I would rather give myself willingly than give them the pleasure of rape.
But that’s not the only reason you did so.
My body moves with his…
You enjoyed it.
Disgust creeps into my throat.
I wanted to pull away…
The cold desire spread in my womb like a thorny tendril.
No. In me it won’t… I’m not giving birth to a fae. I’m lucky Lorian likes power more than fathering heirs. And if he would change his mind, he wouldn’t do it with me.
I must report this before there could be consequences… even if he was the first one who looked at me through Lorian’s night-black eyes like no one else in the cursed place.
I can expect a worse death later.
He knelt down before me…
The void hurts inside me, the absence of his touch. I’m consumed with the urge to run after him and beg him to save me.
The woman I was before, maybe really would have done it.
I smooth a tangled lock of hair behind my horn.
But the woman I am now knows exactly what laws rule in Dal’coler. A human can only rely on themselves. Weak ones fall, and unless I want to be prey, I must join the line of predators.
And here Lorian Ain’Dal is the most dangerous predator.
Alnam
I do everything to sweep that night out of my head. I avoid her as much as possible, when she comes into the corridor, I look away or change direction. However, the more I try to forget, Leira creeps deeper and deeper into my feelings – like roots in Dal’coler’s stones. She clings to me tighter and tighter, and I hate myself for it.
Not because of what I’ve done, but because of how I feel about a human woman. Empathy, respect. For someone who doesn’t deserve it. She shouldn’t deserve…
Still…
Almost all my free thoughts revolve around her. How could it feel for her to serve someone she hates as much as I do? Serving his needs with giving him her time, her body, her pain, her everything…
There’s a knock at the door, and my pen stops over the paper.
She enters. In her usual slave dress, with a blank expression on her face.
Ink drops on the paper. I put the pen down; a safe distance from the report. I have nothing to fear; she has no idea who I am.
“Excuse me. I brought a message for Lord Alnam.”
“I am listening.”
“Lord Lorian Ain’Dal summons you.”
A ominous foreboding is ruffling the hairs on the back of my neck. No… This cannot be connected to that incident. He would have retaliated weeks ago… So far, all signs show that this woman is not nearly as close to him as the whispers claim.
“It would not be wise to keep him waiting.” I say, getting up from the table.
When I pass by, I give her a cool, emotionless smile. At first she follows me slightly behind, then catches up. Despite her short stature, she keeps pace with me, her steps light and supple. She can dress as a fae, grow horns and tails, copy our gestures, but she will never be one of us.
She brushes a lock of hair behind her round ears.
Her hair on the dark bed linen in the moonlight…
Her smell, her taste, her moan…
The spark of hatred in her eyes.
How long do I want to lie to myself?
My mouth dry, my hands clammy with desire to reach for her. To confess everything to her. About my life, my wife, my son, my crimes, Lorian. To tell her how much I regret not intervening on that hunt. That I despise Lorian’s cruel behaviour. That I respect her strength and what she did. And I hate him as much as she does.
My lips pressed into a line, my hands folded behind my back in a calm, relaxed pose.
It’s ridiculous. Impossible.
But, what would I have to lose? My authority? My influence? My place at the Court? My life?
Everything that was really important to me, Dal’coler took away long ago…
We arrive. Leira knocks, announces my coming and opens the double door for me.
Through the high, arched window, the winter sun shines in, illuminating the draperies, the carved table, the ornate chairs, the glass of wine, the crystal goblets. Lorian… He’s wearing the same feathered outfit I borrowed that night, – coincidence? – he is sitting at the table, slightly sideways, legs crossed, casually yet imposing. His slender figure exudes dark elegance and danger.
He raises his black eyes, full of infinite void, and his lips turn up in a polite, cruel smile.
“Welcome Lord Alnam! Please honour me with your presence!” He gestures to a seat beside him.
He is much shorter than I am, but even sitting like this, his shadows bury me beneath him. I have no intention of going any lower.
“If I do not offend Your Majesty, I would prefer to remain standing. I’ve written many reports these days, hunched over my desk.”
“I appreciate your diligence. However, I hope you can afford some entertainment from time to time.” He offers me a glass of wine, which it would be impolite to refuse.
Leira, meanwhile, retreats into the background, opening the door to leave us when Lorian calls after her:
“I don’t remember giving you permission to leave. I’d like you to stay and join us.” – He gets up, pours her some wine.
As she walks back, her arm brushes my tunic. My muscles tense.
Too many coincidences.
“Leira, allow me to introduce you to Lord Alnam Devlon, Lord of Devlonmere. Lord Alnam; she’s my slave; Leira Askel.” He takes a sip of his drink. “But perhaps you already know each other. I heard that the night of the New Lunar Year has proved special for many.”
My heart skips a beat, my blood runs cold in my veins.
He knows.
His mouth smiles, his eyes gleam with icy darkness.
How?
I look at Leira. Her eyes, blazing with hatred, stare at me with blank dismay. Only the shivering wine in the glass hints at her agitation.
“It has also come to my attention that some find a strange pleasure in abusing the devotion of other’s slaves. This makes both the servants and their owners very uncomfortable.”
“On the occasion of the New Lunar Year, similar incidents really could happen. This celebration is known to loosen the hierarchy of our society. I would like to remind Your Majesty that during the rule of King Marnsul, you also took advantage of the opportunities offered by the feast.”
“Indeed, in my father’s time, it was a common occurrence. However, the world is constantly changing. As do we. Some traditions may become obsolete. It may be that the traditions I enjoyed as a prince are no longer so as a king. Especially when it’s combined with things like identity theft. Or unwanted pregnancy.”
Leira raises the glass to her mouth, tilts it. Pretends to drink, but doesn’t swallow.
Terror surrounds me, but I remain still.
Do whatever he wants with me. I will not fall to my knees and beg for mercy.
“We all have our own preferences. Even humans.” I look at Leira.
She looks aside.
She did.
She discovered it and reported it.
Of course she discovered it. I treated her differently…
And she betrayed me. Anger flares inside me, then turns to bitter gloat. I need all my self-control not to laugh. This human woman seems to have grasped the balance of power and the rules of the game here faster than most of the young fae. What is truly impressive… But what would I expect from someone who was willing to slit her own lover’s throat for the lesser evil? Beware, Lorian, lest one day you meet the same fate.
Very well, Leira; play by your own rules. I will do the same. That’s what I’ve always done.
“I understand your majesty’s concern, it can be disturbing indeed, even if it is only about humans.”
“What do you suggest would be a worthy retaliation for such a violation of property?”
“I heard Your Majesty is more skilled in the art of torture than most who specialise in it. Why would you seek advice from me?”
“I have always valued your advice and support. And it will never be otherwise.”
The pain attacks my throat suddenly and intensely. Like a blade slicing through my neck. I touch it, but there is no blood. His invisible shadows strain from within, block the path of air. Pain spreads through my body, gnawing at my nerves like hot fangs.
The glass shatters in my grip.
Red liquid on the white tunic.
– Everything all right? – he frowns theatrically.
Bastard.
All this for what? For a human woman?
How interesting that Nymre is not present… It seems that small dust in your eyes was a really sharp one.
I smile.
If your court saw this… they would all be horrified that even now, after all these years, you are still the same spoiled child, controlled by the whims of the moment. There was a time when I honestly believed you would rise to the task.
But those days are gone.
The anguish intensifies, black dots flock to the edge of my vision. My knees buckle, collapsing to the ground.
Do you really have to resort to such methods to bring me to my knees? This is also a way to rule…
My eyes are bulging from the pressure, my skull almost cracking.
Feel free to unleash your power… you can hardly control it anyway. Go ahead, kill me…! This time there are no shadow fae to blame…
– Lord Alnam? – his mocking voice seeps into my mind from far away.
The world goes dark.
Lorian
Agony races through my veins like glowing ember. Greedy and all-consuming -thoughts, sanity, the outside world. Locks me in a prison of pain and does not let me go. I do not feel the bed beneath me, I do not see the darkness of the night.
Red spots, hurt.
My back bends, my hand grips my hair. As if I could tear it away.
A scorching heat chokes me. No air.
I need more… Again and again… To ease… at any cost…
Eternal minutes – hours? – pass when the spasms subside.
I gasp for air. The pain is replaced by a protective emptiness.
When my breathing returns to normal and strength returns to my trembling muscles, I sit up and pull myself to the edge of the bed.
It’s good that Nymre is not here. She’d be worried, asking questions. And I’d have to answer.
To lie.
She wouldn’t understand the truth anyway. Even if she did, she wouldn’t accept it.
Women…
My lips pull into a bitter smile.
I get up, walk out to the balcony of my dormitory. I’m soothed by the solitude, the stars and the moon’s cold light. A winter breeze cools my sweat-soaked skin, dispelling the heat left by my anguish. I lean on the stone rail and look down. Below me lies Dal’coler – with all its beauty and ugliness. Full of pleasure, suffering, betrayal…
That human slave… Leira…
She has no idea I’m reading her mind. That I knew what happened between her and Alnam before she opened her mouth to report it. That I felt exactly what she felt and heard every guilty thought she had. Her desires, her pleasures, her temptation of betray. That she had fear.
Still, she confessed everything without a blink and gave voice to her suspicions that she had slept with someone else, and asked for assistance to terminate the eventual pregnancy – if I also wish so.
She hates me. She wishes my death. Just like Alnam. She had the opportunity to go after him, to betray me.
But she didn’t.
When Alnam fell to the ground by agony, she was suffering a very different, yet equally intense torments. Ones with which the weak soul torture the mind. Yet she did not intervene. Her face… reflected no emotion.
A perfect mask.
Almost as much as mine.
My smile widens.
I had no idea that a human could be so… interesting.
Alnam
When I open my eyes, a sharp pain pierces my temples by the light. White curtains, white walls. I sit up in bed – in my own bed. My muscles move with a groan, as if I haven’t used them for a long time. I look out the gothic window. The familiar mountains reach out like fangs into the distance, the valley is frozen in mist, some snow-capped crowns of pines reach up from the fog. Devlonmere – home of pleasant and painful memories.
How did I get here?
Every cartilage and muscle in my throat aches.
The cold stones of Dal’coler beneath me, the sight of Lorian’s boots. His voice, cloaked in irony, steeped in hatred…
I’m alive… It seems he’s not so intoxicated by power as to commit such an irresponsible act.
For now.
Disappointment and grief weigh on my chest. This place… Narlia… Corvel… Everything I’ve ever loved is choking me with the darkness of a hundred Ain’Dal.
I wish he had done it…
But what did I expect? Lorian was never known for his mercy.
The door creaks open, a short fae in a white dress rushes in, tray in hand, steaming drink. The membranes of her dragonfly wings glisten with every step in the cool light of the sun.
“It’s a relief to see you awake, My Lord! We’ve been very worried about you these past weeks.”
Weeks…
I open my mouth to greet her and ask about the details of my comeback, but a stabbing pain shoots up my throat, my words are drowned in coughing.
“Do not force the speech, My Lord!” She hurries to my bed, nodding her head towards my bedside table. Pen and paper. “According to our healers, your throat and vocal cords have been severely damaged. It must have been caused by extremely dark magic, immune to healing spells. There has been some improvement in recent examination, but…”
I raise an eyebrow at her, but she gloomily casts down her large green eyes.
“ …they’re not significant. No one can say anything for sure.”
Silence.
“But let’s be hopeful and do everything to recover. Rest, please. And drink this. A pain-relieving and regenerative potion…”
I take the cup, raise it to my lips. It smells bitter by herbs and mushrooms. I sip it.
I don’t feel the taste.
I try to swallow.
It’s like trying to force a spiked mace down my throat.
Sweat beating out of me. I give the mug back with trembling hand. A few drops of dark liquid fall on the bedspread.
Red wine on white fabric.
“Oh, I almost forgot; a raven arrived from Dal’coler two days ago. Lorian Ain’Dal asked about your condition and wished you speedy recovery. He hopes to be able to rely on your services again soon.”
Insolent bastard.
At my piercing glance, the fae flinches, staggers back.
I pick up the pen, dip it in ink to write…
…what exactly?
That on the night of the New Lunar Year I slept with one of Lorian’s human slaves and he couldn’t bear to have his property violated?
Sounds as unbelievable and grotesque as my feelings for Leira.
I put the pen down.
After all…
Her body becomes one with mine, my hatred with hers…
I regret nothing.