Ok...I've been missing, I know ( and I know you're all relieved). I know this has ABSOLUTELY no place here...
But La'ra made me do it.
And to it's credit, it's complete. Copious feedback as always is welcome.
I do consider this a moral tale...
CRYSTAL TEAR
Once upon a time, the far off land of Afaria, there was a Queen. Her royal majesty, Estacia Vareen, first of that naming, ruled her lands wisely and well. Her people were prosperous, her land's borders secure and trade was good. Estacia Vareen was wise, if not beautiful, and her people were sensible of their great good fortune. They loved their queen with a simple and direct devotion, which she shared and returned in equal measure.
Afaria was not the largest country, nor the smallest. It was still, for the most part, a human land. There was some magic here and there, ordinary and useful in small ways, but they could not be classed a a magical kingdom, where wizards and mages and magical creatures comprised substantial portions of the population.
They were prosperous, not due to vast mineral wealth, but to sensible management and a genius for trade. They had nothing of the sort to attract master mages, and the troubles those brought, nor did they have the kind overwhelming riches that caused thoughts of jealous acquisition in neighboring kingdoms.
If anyone had a worry, it was that she was unmarried and there were no heirs of her body. The people, all of them had become used to living in prosperity and peace, and this was due to Estacia Vareen's clear-sighted rule. No one, not from the greatest, to the least, wanted change.
Her advisors had suggested potential husbands, Princes and Kings, Emperors and Potentates, even consorts; but the queen ignored every suggestion. She gave no reason for her refusal, and her advisors were puzzled. in some places, marriage could be a burden to one side or the other; but that was not the case in Afaria. And they had only to look at neighboring countries to see what manner of disaster lurked in those royal families, to agree that caution was warrented. But still, this was Afaria, the Queen could, if she wished, take a commoner as a consort.
The queen was adamant in her refusal. "I have an heir," she declared firmly. "My young cousin is a perfectly respectable young man, sober minded, clear headed, and capable."
But marry? No. The Queen would not.
It must be noted that her heir was indeed all she had claimed. At her request, her heir was among her advisors, learning the business of governing. He did not like what he saw. If the crown came to him, so be it, he would serve, but, in all honesty, he would rather continue raising his excellent hunting hounds, dogs being, in his frank opinion, more sensible than people in every particular.
The Queen discharged every duty with grace and diligence. Each night she retired to her chambers, dismissed her attentive handmaids, locked the door, and remained sequestered, alone, solitary, in her rooms for the night. This was her habit, every night without fail.
But her newest advisor, Sabia Asquanas, wondered at the vehemence of her refusal. He had been a soldier in his younger days. He'd been a scout, then had moved up to Intelligence, and had served quietly, effectively and well. Now he was a Royal Advisor, and in his eyes, his duty remained the same, protecting his country and his Queen.
He had learned human nature, both good and bad and in his soldiering days he had seen other lands. And if the Queen, normally faultless in all matters of duty, refused so adamantly, there had to be a reason.
Even more he wondered at her evening habit. Servants were everywhere here at the palace, omnipresent and usually invisible. That the Queen made a point of emptying her chambers of all but herself was deeply out of character. He poked around, asked around, but this was what she had always done, as long as anyone could remember, no one even saw it as unusual.
Even he had not remarked on it, since it had been the norm before he had even taken up residence in the palace.
Wondering turned to planning, planning to action. He secreted himself in the Queen's chambers, and was there when she locked the doors. He had been a soldier once, and waiting silent and still was nothing new.
His wait was rewarded.
The queen pulled a locket from its resting place between her breasts. He knew the piece; it was always around her neck. As a piece of jewelry, it was remarkable only in its plainness, not at all something one would expect a queen to wear.
She opened it, revealing a small crystal. She cracked the stone and a tendril of smoke trickled out, curling lazily into the air.
The smoke coalesced into a massive man, ebon-skinned, with deep grey eyes and black curling hair. He gathered the queen into his arms, covering her small frame with kisses. He called her names, his delight, his treasure, his plaything, and his joy. He touched her, enflaming her senses, and he took her without shame or mercy, demanding her pleasure to serve his own.
The queen gave herself to her magical lover without reservation. She cried out her pleasure, screamed in need and want, used and pleasured him freely, wantonly, wildly.
The advisor watched, wide eyed, as the two writhed in pleasure, in lust, in desire. The scent of their lovemaking lay heavy on the air, intoxicating him. Only his long years as a scout prevented him from betraying his position. But his own flesh answered as he watched.
The giant man was not human, and Sabia did not know which magical being it might be. Sabia also did not know how the Queen had come to be in thrall to such a being, but that was a problem to worry over later, when he could think clearly again.
For now, for now Sabia forced himself to remain still as he watched his Queen be lifted like a toy, and impaled on a tool so massive, she would surely die. She did not die, but she did cry her pleasure in sobbing moans, and frantic pleas. The being who held her, roared, as he possessed her fully.
The night wore on, and Sabia's senses reeled at the frenzy of their coupling. There was nothing the lovers did not do, nothing they did not explore, no act forbidden.
Just before dawn, the lovers lay sated in each other's arms. The Queen slept, cradled in massive arms. The room set itself to rights around them, the sheets clean and lightly dented with the imprint of her small body, the air sweet, fresh and clean, the candles barely burnt. The being kissed her tenderly, and then, as dawn filled the sky, he was gone.
Sabia did not move, not until after the Queen rose. She looked refreshed and lovely, as if she had merely slept as sweetly and peacefully as a beloved child.
He did not move until after the doors were unlocked, and the Queen was gone to the demands of her day. Only after the last flurry of handmaidens and servants had departed, did he dare leave his hiding place.
He made his way to his own private residence, a small home he maintained in the city. Once there, he locked himself in his own chamber and gave himself the desperate release his body craved. The wild scene he had witnessed burned in his blood, and he spent himself repeatedly as the searing images burned through his memory, and played behind his eyes.
When Sabia could think clearly again, he knew what had to be done. This was not a new lover, no; she had worn that locket as long as he had been at the court regularly, probably even longer. He went to his old gear, searched through his field pack until he found a small, plain packet of gray powder. For clear sight, the old woman had told him long ago. The powder within had served him well, letting him see through the cleverest illusion, thickest fog and deepest night all with the ease of seeing on a clear day.
Now he used it once again, mixing a pinch of the powder with a handful of water ad rubbing the paste thoroughly into his face and hair, being sure to touch some to his tongue, his ears and onto his closed eyelids. this time to look over the land he loved. Was it really prosperous, happy, safe, or was it some monstrous illusion. But everywhere his eyes and ears told the same. The land was good, the people thriving. If the queen was ensorcelled, it was to the good.
He sent a message to the Queen, begging of her a private audience. At the time appointed, he presented himself in her writing room.
She greeted him warmly, and with genuine respect, she did not, after all, keep advisors whom she could not respect.
He got straight to the point.
"My Queen," he said formally. "You must marry. You know it. I know it. We all know it."
She lifted hr hand to cut him off, but he shook his head. "Hear me out, My Queen. If not any of the candidates proposed, then it must be the one who already holds your heart. We are not so far from magical lands as to make that impossible."
He said the words deliberately, choosing them to be calm, reasoned and sensible.
The Queen stared, aghast. "How did you--"
Sabia Asquanas met his Liege's gaze fearlessly and with no trace of condemnation. "I was your head of Intelligence, I still am. I should have long since been sure what passed in a locked room at night.
If he had not been staring at his Queen, he might have missed the tiny tendril of smoke that rose, but he had half expected it.
In the dark, lit only by a hundred candles, the being had been massive. Here, in the day, in the Queen's writing room, a commonplace room tidy and efficient, here the being was impossibly immense, towering over both Queen and advisor.
"I am called Ystal," the being said, and his dark voice caused Sabia's body to stir uncomfortably. He drew the Queen against his side, possession and protection both in his touch. The smile he gave her was tender. His grey eyes pierced Sabia to the core. "I knew you watched us that night."
"You did not tell me?" The Queen asked her lover, her tone edged.
"It would have distressed you to no purpose," Ystal told her. "There was no danger to you."
Sabia flushed, manhood stirring at the rush of images he could not suppress. "There had to be a compelling reason she refused to wed," he said, glad his voice held steady.
Ystal smiled at the Queen, revealing a flash of sharp teeth that had never grown in human mouth. "I too have told her she must marry, she is delightfully stubborn."
The Queen blushed. "My affections are spoken for." she said simply.
"There is no reason you cannot marry to follow your heart, My Queen," Sabia said formally. "That he is a magical being is not illegal here."
The Queen lifted her chin. "He has refused."
Sabia stiffened, angry and offended. "Refused?"
Ystal considered Sabia. "As things stand, I cannot directly give her children. That is an important factor." He smiled at the Queen, so small by his side. "Your children would be precious beyond words, my love, even as you are."
Sabia mastered his anger. The magical powder he wore told him the being was sincere. "You cannot, or will not?"
"Cannot," Ystal answered. "There is a lack of physical substance. Were a mortal man to be involved, then yes, she would conceive."
"Then it is simple." Sabia spoke confidently, clear in his role to advise his queen. "You must take a consort, a mortal man."
The Queen shook her head. "I would not deceive a husband, no matter what the terms of the contract between him and me. And I cannot think of any man who would willing accept," her voice faltered for an instant, "accept the situation as it is."
Sabia surprised himself and his Queen. "I would."
Ystal was not surprised. He had felt the pull of Sabia's lust, the burning of his desire as he lay hidden, and had felt also his love for his Queen; no less pure for all that he was seeing her now in a new way.
"I travelled extensively in my army days," Sabia said. "I can claim Ystal as a friend from foreign lands. I would leave here, ostensibly to fetch him, and them come back with Ystal at my side.
"I should announce you as my chosen consort before you go," The Queen said. "Even with you as a commoner, there will be much to do."
Sabia laughed, "Especially with me as a commoner. Will a month be long enough for me to be away? Longer?"
"A month will do," Ystal said "Long enough for you to seemingly go to Otherine and back. My kind can be found there. And long enough for me to be ready to live openly among you."
But before they separated, each to begin his or her own part, Sabia knelt to his Liege. "Will you have me, My Queen? Will you accept me as your husband?"
And the Queen blushed, as she had not in years. "I will." she said quietly. "Yes. I will."
The Queen announced she would take as Consort, Sabia Asquanas, elevating him and his family to dizzying heights. The country threw itself into a frenzy of preparation for a royal wedding.
Sabia withdrew from the capitol for three months, ostensibly to break the news to his own kindred. But to his loving and astounded and very proud parents and sisters he told the agreed upon tale.
"I must travel to Otherine, " he said. "I have a friend there, and he and I agreed that the first to wed should fetch the other. He has not sent for me, so, I am the first and must go and collect him." And with that, he was gone, alone on his good horse, the one who had carried him faithfully over all manner of lands, and in all manner of conditions.
At the end of the month, he rode directly to the palace, and at his side, on a pale grey warhorse, rode a huge man, black as night. Ystal was his name, from an impossibly distant place, and touched in no small way with magic. He made his obeisance to the Queen, declaring himself hers in all ways.
With the groom returned safely, preparations threw the land into frenzy. All were invited, all welcome. And Ystal lent his hands, and his skills to every particular.
For Sabia, it passed almost in a haze. To his amazement, Ystal was in fact, as well as seeming, the friend he claimed to be. They had not discussed the actual wedding night, or what would occur, but that was not today's worry.
At last the wedding day came. Estacia Vareen married Sabia Asquanas, elevating him to Consort. The cheering could be heard in every corner of the land, the bells rang, and toasts were drunk by every man, woman and child. The endless day passed in a blur of ceremony, festivity and pageant.
When at last Ystal ushered the newlyweds into their own chamber for their first night, the two mortals felt very much as if they had been shipwrecked on an alien shore.
Ystal fed them, small bites of bread and meat, fruit and cake, for neither had eaten more than a mouthful the whole day. He bathed them also, and they let him, docile and bewildered as children, and desperately glad not to have to walk, smile, wave, speak, or decide.
Once Sabia felt the least bit more recovered, he got to his feet and began to make for himself a pallet on the floor.
Ystal stopped him. He took them both, the Queen and her Consort both. He roused them both, teasing and caressing them, marveling at their beauty and at his own good fortune in having obtained all he needed to be whole. He possessed them utterly, consuming them with passion until they screamed for mercy and begged for more.
Dawn, touching the sky to light, found them all abed, the two mortals held securely in the arms of their lover.
The Queen was wed.
And in nine months time, the Queen was delivered of a fine and healthy son. Soft black curls clustered over his head, and his eyes were the same silvery blue as his mothers. The Queen named him Drasil Ventus Sabial, and he was a strong and beautiful child. Drasil was followed a year later by a princess, Ingla Hestarine Avenel. She too was lovely, and sweet, with deep eyes and hair that fell in soft curls.
And they all lived tumultuously, and happily, ever after.
Topic: Crystal Tear-- a bedtime story (Read 4076 times)