The Fall of Marigill (closed for Poprockz)

Orson felt himself in that strange place where men find themselves after their first orgasm; it took a lot to get another out of him. Not that Senni hadn’t accomplished it before, but he also was lost in the heat of pleasure. Of the sound of wet slapping of their bodies colliding. Of her ass cheeks against his hips when he held himself to grind into her. As though he could grow more cock to explore deeper.

“Fuck.. Fuck..” His fingers never relented. Every inch of her ass was wonderful on his cock. He was pulling almost all the way back to the tip, now. Wanting to feel her sphincter squeezing and caressing every inch. “You’re so wet.” He reminded her, his fingers drawing faster and faster circles on her clit.

Her breasts heaving, her moans echoing throughout the room. There was a satisfaction in completion that was coming. But he hoped.. Not too soon.

“Bear’s balls, woman..” He said, burying himself deep and holding her against him by the hair. His chest heaving.. He’d need a break soon. But he wasn’t giving in just yet. He tried to work out what he’d have her do next; he was sure when he got her to this state? She likely had few limitations. “..You said you couldn’t handle two of my cocks at once.” He met her gaze in the mirror. “Should we have the shadow put you to the test?”
 
As deep in the throes of passion as they were, it took her a moment to register what he had actually said. When she did, her eyes widened and she considered for a moment whether she could truly take another cock while Orson was in her ass. Probably... No, she surely could physically take another. But should she? If she took another cock inside her, then she would no doubt be reaching her very limits. It would be an experience unlike any other, and best of all... Orson seemed to desire it of her. It seemed that the decision was made before she even reached the conclusion.

Her fingers twitched in command, and underneath her, the shadow took on a more human shape. Some might simply say it was just the shadow of a woman, but one with a more keen eye would notice that it was an exact copy of Y'Sennia herself. Well, everything matched except for the large cock it had between its legs. A cock that was engorging on its own to rise up and rest against her mound.

She shivered, lifting her ass up to allow it to align with her. Reaching down, she held the shadow cock steady until its head was right at her entrance. And then? She sunk down on it.

The cock could be felt rubbing against the other inside her as it plunged deeply into her heat, and she let out a loud moan at the feeling. By the Gods...! How could one be so full?!
 
Orson kept plowing down her ass, stopping only when he saw the shadowy Y’Sennia forming beneath her. His eyebrow cocking and then he looked down to see the massive cock that grew and… Then Senni was taking it, too. By the bear’s balls. He pushed deep again, and they began truly laying into her.

He wanted her panting and useless and shaking in a pool of her own squirt. He didn’t know why, but he did. The shadow’s soft form beneath his hand allowed him to remove his fingers from Senni’s clit as the shadow took that over for him. He ran his hand along Senni’s stomach, lodging his hand between the shadow’s tits and her own to take a handful of one and he roughly took her ass.

He reached down, grabbing the beads and his hand looped around to the Shadow’s chin, placing the largest on her lips to lick clean and his hand then pushed Senni’s head down to the opposite side of the bead. His cock hardened at the sensations of everything. He was quite positive he was going to give her ass more than he had her pussy; the possibility of such a thing was mind boggling. She’d taken quite the load already.

“Fuck us, Y’Sennia.” He goaded her, a slap going to her ass cheek, then the next. He wanted her sore and red and stinging when she sat for the next few days.
 
The woman and her shadow sucked and licked on the bead, cleaning it of the cum he had wiped on it earlier. At some point, the now saliva-laden bead slipped from their lips to the side, though fortunately Y'Sennia's long tongue was quick to catch it, pulling it back to them to share between themselves. She made a muffled cry when he slapped her ass, and then again, each spank making her ass clench on him. The sting was so good, made ever the more harsh by the fact that she was oiled.

Y'Sennia took a steadying breath before lifting her ass and pushing back on Orson. Fuck... It took a lot of effort to get the rhythm and movements right, but she was soon moving her ass in a circular motion that pulled herself slightly off one of their cocks to bear down on the other. They felt so hot inside her, each of them teasing her sensitive nerves within each of her tunnels.

One of the shadow's hands went to the small of her back before sliding up her spine to hold the back of her head. The bead was flicked away by the shadow's tongue and the next moment Y'Sennia found their lips pressing against each other's. The shadow had always been hungry for carnal delights, so she imagined it was very riled up at the moment. Their tongues intermingled, each of their cheeks bulging occasionally from the enthusiastic dance of tongues.
 
Orson’s panting continued as the fucking continued to catch a rhythm. He watched the inky black feminine hand of the shadow slide up Senni’s back and take her by the back of the head. His eyebrow cocked.. That was new. Then the kiss of their lips after the cum soaked bead had fallen away. It only served to harden him more.

It was all so exciting and stimulating. And it was going to make him cum. He was quite certain of it. “Oh..” It was noise that Senni would likely recognize. Her stretched ass feeling better and better against every inch of him as the rhythm picked up. Senni pushing back and getting into it.

His hand moved from her oiled hip to the Shadow’s side and up along Senni’s shoulder before moving to the back of Senni’s head over the Shadow’s hand, his fingers gripping the Shadow’s hand and Senni’s hair as he began picking up his pace. Cock growing and hardening as his breath hitched once, then twice… And then a final time as he let out a warcry.

His toes curled in the force of it, his grip on Senni’s hips and hair and the Shadow’s hand tightened as he pulsed deeply. A torrent of cum shot into her ass in spurting convulsions. One after another. Seeming without end as the motion didn’t stop. As the sensations didn’t stop. “Bear’s balls..” He gasped for air, his grip bruising Senni’s hips as he pushed deep; he wanted to be as deep as he could get. He wanted to fire it so far into her that it would never come out.

But as her hips shifted? He swore he saw her grinning in the mirror at the contorted pleasure on his flushed face. A heat that spread over his cheeks and neck and even partially down his chest as he came harder than he had in many years.

“Fuck.. fuck..” The grip that didn’t release him made him laugh, breathless from the sensitivity. And he slapped her ass once again. “Oh… oh…” His eyes blinked back tears that had threatened to form. “...Fuck.”
 
When that first "oh" came from his lips, she knew it was coming. Well, that he was cumming soon. The shadow seemed to realize this too as s slight smirk curved its lips. It couldn't be seen by Orson or Y'Sennia, but the shadow had taken the liberty of growing a tongue at the base its cock on the upper side. It was able to flick out its tongue and lash it against her clit. Her own eyes watered, and she moaned into her shadow's mouth, sneaking breaths where she could.

With two cocks in her holes and a tongue on her clit? It wasn't a fight she could win. She didn't want to fight it though- lost in the churning of bodies and the rutting of flesh on flesh. It was exquisite! it was the sort of pleasure that could leave one with little to no wits at all.

While she didn't have her wits about her in that moment, she at least was able to see the look on Orson's face and that did make her grin deliriously. He looked absolutely overcome by his orgasm. She was having a hard time not being overcome herself. So much cum was being loaded into her ass that she was sure she would be dripping for weeks. That was a nice thought though- dripping Orson's cum slowly into her underwear and having it smeared onto her mound as she strutted about the castle. It would be a constant reminder of how he had fucked her silly this night.

"Orson, fuck!" she rasped before the shadow's tongue snaked between her lips and kissed her ravenously again. Her eyes rolled up and she came right then and there. Her pussy spasmed, as did her ass, and the cock below her pulled out swiftly as she squirted onto its thighs. Her entire body was shaking, spent and exhausted. Though that exhaustion came with such wondrous euphoria that she didn't care.

The vampress collapsed on her shadow. Her mouth was released and she merely panted hard near its ear.
 
Orson stayed buried, having to catch himself on his hands over the both of them. His sweat dripped onto the oiled back of Senni for a moment as his wits slowly tried to come back. The shaking of his legs matched Senni’s quivering hips. It was so much; it was so good. And he didn’t know how to quantify exactly what had taken place. He pumped once and twice more for good measure.

“I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.” He said, honestly. It wasn’t like her ass didn’t bring them both to unbelievable heights. He took a breath.. Then another.. Eventually, he got the will to slowly pull himself from Senni’s ass. It had been deep enough that nothing spilled from her immediately. This was good.

Coming to the front of the shadow and Senni’s head, he knelt once more and gathered the Shadow’s chin to guide her lips to take care of his balls, and Senni’s head to come for his cock. He needed another bath, at this point.
 
"It's because usually I have things to do afterwards, and doing things like this leaves me unable to walk until I have a real rest," she chuckled tiredly before tending to him. Her own pink tongue came out to slickly clean him, the black tongue below her winding around his balls while the shadow lifted its head closer. Unlike Y'Sennia, the shadow's form was malleable, so it was able to open its mouth wide enough to fully engulf his sack and suck on him like a large candy.

"Mm..." Y'Sennia swallowed, "you may want to soak for a few moments more before going to dinner. I'm sure you smell like sex right now, and I'm not sure if your Queen would appreciate that." She smirked to herself.
 
Orson spend some time allowing Senni and her shadow to tend his cock and balls. The swallowing of his entire sack was a new sensation; and it threatened to harden him all over again. He wondered, idly, if that feminine shadow felt pleasure. Senni always treated her as a thing she dismissed and summoned at her whim; and he never questioned her. Still, he was only a man; the suction and tongue all over his balls? It made him stir.

As did Senni’s wonderful tongue and lips. Eventually, however, he did find the willpower to stand. I usually have things to do.. Orson smirked at that, almost as proud of such an accomplishment as defeating Kauvric. He leaned back into the tub and picked up the sponge that had been left to float in the water and lathered it up to begin washing anew. Not that Senni hadn’t cleaned him, but he had to ask as Senni rested with that shadow.

“What.. or… who.. is.. your shadow?” He realized he’d never asked. For all the times the shadow had come and brought Senni lube, or licked her clit, or served any number of functions for Senni at her beckon call? He realized, only when he saw the shadow’s hand reach for Senni’s head before? She seemed to have her own desires.
 
The shadow shifted, not having been commanded but having the intuition to know what her master might want. She sat up with her legs straight, lifting the vampress's head and letting her rest it on her thighs. Her hand came down to then affectionately stroke her mistress's hair.

Y'Sennia regarded Orson thoughtfully, trying to decide whether she wanted to divulge that information. She trusted him though, and he seemed the sort that could be discreet if needed. "Her name is Zandrimelius... but I call her Zandy for short. I don't use her name when I'm around people though, nor do I allow her to speak at all, lest those who seek her get a whiff of her. She is a demoness, one who slipped her captor's chains and escaped to this realm. Having never been on this mortal plane before, it was only a matter of time before they found her, so I made her an offer. I would bind her to my shadow, unable to be wrenched from me unless I say so."

Zandy smiled and nodded, tucking some hair behind her mistress's ear.

"She feeds from the sexual energy I provide, and I have a very capable associate. It is a very mutually beneficial arrangement."
 
Orson paused in his wash as Senni said that this shadow was a demoness. A demoness?? His balls had just been in the mouth of a demoness. And it had been good. His eyes shifted to the side a moment.. Senni had always been an ally, and he’d asked. He genuinely wasn’t sure what to do with this new knowledge; this new acquaintance he’d just made. But he resolved to forget this tidbit of information. It was likely for the better, then, that he’d sworn away facing his ancestors when it came his time to die. There were some things that couldn’t be forgiven.

“Any ally to Y’Sennia is welcome in the Iron Vale. Well met, Zandy.” It was the best courtesy he could provide until he could process it. “I know very little of your kind.” He admitted. He’d accepted, some time ago, that there was more knowledge in the world than that of the words of Ursui. It’s what gave him a wider vision for the Kota. For the Iron Vale. To be King; one had to see merits in beliefs he didn’t particularly share. And to choose his battles wisely.

This wasn’t one of them. Not when it would make an enemy of a friend. He continued washing his body, eventually, and considered what Senni had said. It was only a matter of time until Zandy was found? And she offered protection in her shadow? Mutual benefit? Was it so different from what he and Senni already had?

She’d had Zandy since he’d known her, he realized. Which made sense, both Senni and Zandy had lived much, much longer than himself. Whoever it was that sought her? He likely wasn’t in a hurry to find her. It didn’t sound like a problem for today. Not with the defeat of Kauvric and his stomach growling at him.
 
The thralls bustled about the dining hall, setting the table and getting decorations put in place. A finer meal than normal was being prepared as it was the bride and groom's first dinner together. As such, the smells wafting from the kitchen were mouth-watering, and Nettie couldn't wait to eat something more substantial than tea and biscuits she had nibbled on while waiting for their return.

She walked through the halls on the way to the dining room, a group of beautiful, seductively-dressed women giggling as they passed her. It was impolite to eavesdrop, or at least it was impolite to be caught evesdropping, so Nettie pretended not to strain her ears to listen to them as they walked further down the hall.

"-and he was adorable! He kept making excuses about how he needed to sharpen his spear or clean his armor. Even when I tried to put my hand on his thigh, he jumped up like I had singed him with an ember!" One of the girls recounted with a grin.

The others giggled, one of them piping up in reply, "mine said he already had a sweetheart back home. For a moment I thought he might prefer men, but he had that dreamy look in his eye, so I thought it was cute."

"You won't believe what mine did. He actually-"

And that was all Nettie could hear before the girls disappeared into a nearby door. She sighed, having wanted to hear more of their conversation. They seemed to be pleasure ladies, so she assumed Y'Sennia had sent them to tend to the men's carnal appetites before dinner. Her mind drifted to Cillian and she wondered if he had taken one into his room. The thought made her feel a bit uncomfortable, though she didn't think it was any of her business at this point what he did in his own time. Still... what would it have been like to be one of those ladies? To caress his face and perhaps... meet his lips?

It was at that point that she realized she had wandered absent-mindedly and was now lost. She looked around tried to retrace her steps.
 
“It wasn’t right, you know?” Fionn was explaining to Roric. “I mean.. She was pretty, and I wanted to.. But I knew she’d been.. Commanded.. You know? I want her to want it, too.”

“A noble choice, lad.” Roric put a hand on young Fionn’s shoulder as they entered the dining hall.

“Did she send you one?” Fionn had to know.

Roric cocked an eyebrow at Fionn, saying nothing. But there was a certain glint in his eye.

“Oh.” Fionn winced. “...gross.”

“As if one of em could’ve compared to my Josie!” Brannock entered the hall, catching the tail end of their conversation. And he sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait to be home and fall asleep in her arms again.”

Cillian had checked on Dagris. He knew the runecaster had expended a lot of energy holding that cavern up, and he’d caught the woman sent to tend to him tucking him into bed to sleep. The man would be down for the night, and likely very hungry in the morning. He meandered through the halls, studying the decor when he rounded the corner and heard the approaching women. Discussing what each of his brothers had done. It made him smirk.

His own? He’d asked only for a massage of his sore shoulders. And she’d been quite skilled at it. Before she could push for more? He’d bid her to leave him. Unknowingly, he was more of the mind of young Fionn, having little interest to lay with a woman who had been told to do so.

It was then that he rounded the corner and there was Nettie, also attempting to listen in on their conversation, it seemed. “Anything interesting?” He smirked, then noted how she was regarding her surroundings. “Food’s this way. Come.” He gestured as he offered her his arm.



Orson, finally dressed in clean furs and a blue tunic with his darker pants. His hair pulled back and tied out of his face. He made his way to the dining hall at last. He glanced to Roric. “Dagris?”

“Likely asleep.” Roric answered honestly. “Though if he’s not asleep? He’ll be here, wishing to eat before he falls over.”

Orson nodded, glancing to Fionn’s nervous gaze. So Senni hadn’t been lying. She had sent women to tend his men. He smirked at the boy, knowing exactly how that would’ve played out. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t tired and relaxed, himself. But hunger was gnawing at his insides.
 
The unexpectedness of Cillian's voice made her jump, but she looked relieved when she saw him. Thankfully, she trusted that he had a much better sense of direction as a scout.

She took his arm and lifted her chin up in a faux haughty manner and replied, "a lady does not eavesdrop on others." Her brown eyes then gave him a side-ways glance, a small, mischievous smile on her lips. "Though if she did overhear something, she might be amused at what she heard."

"It seems that one of the men they visited recently was quite jumpy. He had the unavoidable duty of sharpening his spear and polishing his armor, so he had no time for more intimate endeavors." The handmaiden chuckled.

---

Dremara was already at the table when everyone arrived. She hadn't needed to take a bath, nor had she had the company of a pleasure companion. Y'Sennia had visited her before Orson to quickly remove the darkness from her, but that was all she had done besides reading a book. She wasn't sure if she would ever get used to the way Y'Sennia caressed and kissed her lips. It was enticing in a way that felt dangerous, like sweet plate of honey to trap flies in.

She had to admit that she too was ravenous. Despite the cleansing of her body, using the power made her fatigued and hungry, her body in need of sustenance in more ways than one. In some ways it was a blessing that it was simply a meal here at the manor rather than a full-blown party at RimeHaven. She wasn't sure if she would have made it halfway through the night in that case.

When Orson entered, she nodded at him with a polite smile that bordered on friendly. They were married now... what an odd feeling.
 
Cillian cocked an eyebrow down at Nettie as she said a lady didn’t eavesdrop.. And then heard about spear sharpening and armor polishing. “I’d hoped that boy would take advantage. It’d calm him down.” He chuckled at the thought. “But the last thing I need is him trying to elope.” He looked down at Nettie with a side glance. “Who do you think Orson would send out in the cold to track him down?”

His question was posed right before the doors to the dining hall was there to greet them, and he guided Nettie through.

Orson came to sit at the table once Cillian and Nettie arrived. And he glanced to Cillian. “Dagris?”

“Asleep.” Cillian pulled Nettie’s chair out for her, coming to sit next to her as the drinks were sat in front of them. Followed by the buzzing thralls that laid out large bowls of potatoes, gravy, greens, beans, butter cutting boards with honeyed oat bread, platters of elk flank steaks and ribs, cornish game hens, even some bear roast in the natural fatty gravy that came with bear meat.

Orson reached over for Dremara’s plate, taking it to portion food onto it. He didn’t know well what she liked, but he knew what there was. And once he’d gotten a daub of the butter onto her potato, he laid her plate before her and there was a pause; the men and Orson waiting on her to eat. They hadn’t even made a plate yet.
Orson realized he hadn’t explained the tradition. He cleared his throat. “No Kota eats before the Chieftain’s wife.” He whispered to her. “All victories are won in Ursui’s name in hopes of continued blessings of strong Kota sons to fight in his name. Your eating first symbolizes the great hearth; the welcome of the warriors present in your hall. A sign of.. Being pleased at their presence, as it were.”
 
The brunette was afforded only a giggle before they entered the hall. Cillian trudging through the snow, dragging Fionn by the collar like a child throwing a tantrum came to mind, and she found it more than a little amusing.

Dremara had thanked him for the food, but had been waiting on them to dish up when their custom was explained to her. It was funny in a way, that in her own custom the one with the most power was the one who ate first: namely the King. Perhaps the Kota put more stake in the power of birth and a healthy line, and the Chieftan's wife (or Queen in this case) symbolized this.

She smiled at them and took her fork in hand, getting a small helping of the potato and gravy before taking a bite of it. It was delicious, more so than she had assumed. The gravy she had dipped it in was rich and flavorful, perfectly complimenting the starchy vegetable. Upon swallowing, she lifted her glass of wine and said, "the food is delicious. Eat and be merry! All of you have deserved a warriors share of food, rest, and joy. There will be more battles to come, but I couldn't have asked for more brave and competent men to fight for the Kota."

"Hear hear!" Nettie responded enthusiastically, lifting her own glass in a toast.
 
“Hear hear!” The men smiled as they raised their glasses.

It didn’t take long for Brannock to have his plate loaded with bear topped with butter, topped with elk, topped with butter, topped with boar, topped with butter and gravy poured all over it on his plate. Then it was garnished with two scoops of greens and beans and potatoes. Dipping some of the bread into the gravy that he’d torn off, he popped it into his mouth before cutting into the meats.

Fionn had the elk ribs, biting into one happily. His eyes almost rolling back in the pleasure of the taste.

Orson had a healthy portion of meat and potatoes and greens and beans on his plate, as well. Though nothing like the abominable mountain Brannock had stacked for himself. He ate a bite of the elk steak, chewing on it as he picked up the ale to wash it down and he raised his glass again. “Dagris. For without his runes? We’d still be digging Brannock out of the cavern.”

“I’d-” Brannock said with his rather full mouth, but swallowed it down to finish his thought. “I’d have made it out!” But he raised his mug.

“Nah. You’re not fast enough.” Cillian clinked his mug against Brannock’s, taking a drink before looking down to cut into the cornish game hen on his plate and tear the drumstick off so he could eat it more easily.

The men laughed at Brannock before Fionn asked Cillian. “What was going through your head? You were cornered.”

“Either Orson was going to get there; or it would be that hammer going through my head.” He bit into his drumstick as another laugh came.

Roric looked among the men. The women that now graced this table. His own sons had been lost to the war with Marigill. But he’d found four more; looking between Brannock, Orson, Fionn, and Cilian. Each unique in their own way; and he had some winters yet while he could still hold up his shield.

“Let’s not forget those IceJarls.” Orson shook his head. “They were brazen to come this far into the mountains from the Lands Beyond. But I suppose some had to be present to case the words of Naymeera into the ice that had Kauvric imprisoned.” He nodded to Roric. “You managed to hold three of them back; I didn’t miss it.”

Roric had a spoonful of beans. “I’ve survived worse.”

“Cockroach that you are.” Brannock teased Roric, causing more laughter.

“I’ve not forgotten what saved my life.” Orson nodded to Brannock and Cillian both. “Were it not for the two of you; I'd have had worse than a mangled arm.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” Cilian retorted playfully. “Had I not taken the shot? All I'd have to do is kill Brannock; and then I'd be Chieftain.” He looked among the table… and smirked. “First thing i’d do is toss you sorry lot into the sea.”

Orson chuckled as the men began to debate whether or not Cillian could actually kill Brannock in a duel.
 
Nettie listened intently, wondering what exactly the fight had been with. Apparently Cillian had been very heroic though, sniping with his bow and arrow with precision and grace. It made her heart flutter with excitement to imagine him lining up his arrow to take shots, jumping behind rocks to avoid attacks, and blocking blows with his daggers. All the while, she was sure that feather cloak of his would be fluttering mysteriously.

She realized that she hadn't ever actually seen him fight, having been below deck on the ship and away at the castle during the cave fight. Part of her wanted to be able to see how masterfully he navigated the fight, but she knew that watching such things would likely wrack her with worry. Any loss of footing or tumble he took would have her wide-eyed and breathless, terrified for his safety. He probably didn't need that sort of presence while he needed to be concentrating on felling foes.

"How does the line for the Chieftain work?" She asked curiously. "In our country, it goes by blood: father to child, then if there are no children, uncle or aunt to cousins, and so on and so forth. Is it more of a show of fighting prowess, or are there other considerations involved?"

Dremara perked up as well, interested in this topic. The more she learned about the Kota, the better. There had been plenty of information in the book she read on the ship, and more still in the book Y'Sennia lent her, but it was always better to hear first-hand accounts of another culture or custom.
 
“Please; I’d cut you in half, you little-” Brannock was interrupted by Cillian.

“You’d run out of breath before you got near enough.” Cillian ate a bite of potato, then Nettie posed her question about the line of Chieftains.

It derailed their topic, out of respect for their Queen. But Roric was the one who answered. “He who passes the trial of the bear has set before him rules the Kota.” This is one time he wished Dagris was here to explain better. “When a Chieftain dies, Ursui bestows upon his seers and runecasters a set of trials. Tests of courage, of wisdom, cunning, strength and prowess.” His eyes moved to Orson.

As did the rest of the men’s eyes come to rest on their King.

Orson wiped his mouth, took a drink of his ale and thought about how to best explain it. “Ursui’s will was for me to venture to the Great Divide. I descended into the great chasm and found a cave…” His eyes were nearly distant at the memory. “It was my sacred task to venture into the World Below and retrieve the sword of DagenHeart.”

Fionn’s eyes were glazed over in wonder; no matter how many times he heard the tale? It was ever the subject of his fascination.

Brannock took a drink of his ale, going quiet to listen.

Cillian ate in polite silence.

Roric cleared his throat. “The World Below lies at the bottom of the chasm in the Great Divide. North of RimeHaven; west of the Evergrow. It’s said to be quite perilous. The door a wound that festers our world. DagenHeart himself ventured there in attempt to seal it. He did not return.”

“It is quite a tale to tell.” Orson admitted. “But I’d sworn an oath.” Orson looked down to the ale in his cup, swirling the liquid thoughtfully. “Once I’d challenged and killed Jonnah; the previous Chieftain? My next task was the trial.”

“You speak of the World Below as if it were picking up bread at the market.” Roric scolded Orson. “Not even DagenHeart bested it.”

Orson shook his head a bit. “It isn’t something one thinks or speaks of lightly, brother. I am not so eager to return.”
 
"The world below..." Dremara murmured. She had heard of such things, but there were no such openings in her own homeland. There were tales of there having been some in the past, but all records point to them being closed at one point or another. How they were closed had never been explicitly stated, the references merely saying things like "it was sewn shut by the hand of the Gods!" Such metaphors did little to give her any real information about it.

What the stories did explicitly state was the fact that the world below was a hellish place, unfit for humans to linger. It was a pustule that burst, leaking evil like pus into the world of mortals. It certainly wasn't a place that Dremara wanted to approach any time soon, though she had to wonder whether her own power might be helpful in putting a temporary seal on it at some point to make sure nothing came out.

Nettie had much the same thoughts as she quietly chewed on a bit of her own potato and gravy. She was just a handmaid- she didn't have divine powers, nor could she wield a weapon other than a bladed fan. Bladed fans weren't typically used for the sort of combat the Kota faced, so even that was relatively useless. In some ways she envied Dremara for being chosen to house such a gift, feeling rather mundane in comparison. On the other hand... she had to admit that such things as fighting giants and other nasty things wasn't appealing. Perhaps it was more the usefulness that she envied; she wished she had something more to offer, but she could merely offer moral support from the sidelines.

"Hopefully you will never have to," Dremara commented, grabbing a warm roll from a basket and dipping it into her gravy. "Perhaps if we're lucky, the angered goddess will simply lay low for a while and allow us to catch our breath."
 
“Dagris would know more,” Roric cleared his throat. “But Naymeera’s power thickened the air in that cavern. I suspect our Queen is correct. Naymeera will need to gather more to attempt such a feat again.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t take too long!” Brannock grinned between bites. “Kota men get restless if they don’t scratch an itch with a fight or -”

“Brannock.” Orson stopped him from finishing the thought in front of his wife. The World Below was an awful place; and it made him wonder if Senni’s shadow hadn’t escape through the chasm in the great divide. Or if they could seal it… His eyes drifted to Dremara.

..Could she seal it?

Could they lock Naymeera away permanently with such a maneuver? Orson realized, in that instant, he’d been absently staring at Dremara. “Apologies.” A weary smile came over his face. “A man gets lost when he considers all that is before him; such beauty steals the breath like the winds over the Baleful Lake.”

He took a drink of his ale. “I trust your lodgings were comfortable?”
 
The Queen blinked. What had he been about to say? Was it a Kota thing or something lewd? She was going to be around a lot of crass-mouthed Kota men, so she wasn't sure why Orson would draw the line then and there. Regardless, she found it rather sweet of him to do if he was doing it out of concern for her.

A few moments later she noticed him staring at her, his eyes seemingly looking through her rather than at her. What sort of thoughts could he be having? Did the fate of his people weigh heavily on his mind even now? She looked back at him curiously until he realized he had looked too long, the woman flushing slightly at his compliment. Dremara doubted that it was her beauty that made his gaze so far away, but he had a silver tongue when he wanted to, didn't he?

"They were indeed," she replied with a nod. "It is a large, lavish room, admittedly more so than I was expecting. I seem to be encountering all manner of unexpected things since my departure from my homeland." Her goblet was taken in-hand and swished thoughtfully. "I wonder what they're doing over there. Do you think Sir Avery has been named heir yet, or do you think they'll wait until after my mourning period?"

As graceful as Nettie was, the food was rather wet at times. At one point she had taken a bit and thought something had slipped off her fork, but while she was able to catch the bit of potato on the cloth she had on her lap, a drip of gravy had found its way onto her breast above the dress-line, the handmaid none-the-wiser.
 
A large, lavish room? Good. It sounded like he’d have comfortable accommodation tonight. They were married now, and it would ultimately be their room.

Orson chewed the bite as his wife mused aloud of the goings on of the court of her homeland. He slowly shook his head as she asked if Avery had been named heir just yet. “I cannot say.” They had only just arrived back in RimeHaven days ago. News hadn’t traveled yet. “It’s my hope that with the melting season; I’ll be able to send someone to negotiate trade between our peoples.” It was a far sight better than the raiding that had happened in years prior. Though it would likely take some time to negotiate such a deal? There were some who were well suited for it.

“Faagen would be a good choice; but his desire for politics wanes.” It seemed it was his turn to muse aloud. But that was some time away yet. The heart of winter was still upon them.

Cillian had finished his plate and sat back. A deep, contented breath as his plate was taken with a bow of his head.

“Just a little more..” Brannock said, getting his next plate full as the empty platters were taken away as well as the meats. Dessert was to be served soon. “Let me just...” He smiled at the thrall, pouring the gravy over his second mountain of food. “Ah. There we go!”

“You’re going to turn into an elk.” Fionn teased Brannock. “Then Cillian will just shoot you and feed you to a dumbass. Like this poor elk.”

Brannock was cutting into his food, not letting Fionn get to him. “Like you, boot-smoocher?”

Cillian smirked, looking over to Nettie sitting next to him and the off-color of her chest caught his eye. Like one would see a spider on the wall. It.. it was right there and.. He gripped his napkin in his lap. He could just dab it, but she was a fancy Horrey lady that didn’t appreciate that kind of thing. He could point it out, but that would mean he’d looked. And fancy Horrey ladies didn’t like that either. And if he could just…

Then Cillian met her eyes. He’d been caught. Again. Dead to rights, red handed, with his eyes on the prize and his hand in the cookie jar. And any number of metaphors that gave him no plausible deniability or justification. “You-” He cleared his throat. “You’ve got…” he nodded his head slightly, gesturing down with his eyes.

He looked over at the wall ahead of him, then. Doing his best not to turn red as a beet. Likely failing miserably. But then the mousse was laid out before him. Chocolate, he could tell. With shaved chocolate and… oh. That looked good.
 
Orson's words were taken with thoughtful consideration. "Is there someone who is both a merchant and versed in politics? We would need someone shrewd, who won't be cowed into accepting less than we deserve, but won't fall into the pitfalls a common fur trader might when up against one of the crown's merchants. Bulls and snakes, those merchants are." She shook her head. "But effective, no doubt."

Dremara poked at her potatoes before adding, "Also, one of us should be present during the initial negotiations so that they feel the pressure of our authority."

Meanwhile, Nettie had chanced a glance at Cillian only to find their eyes meeting once more. Her brows knit in confusion as he tried to tell her something... What did she have? Beautiful eyes? Lovely hair? Good taste in dinner items? She caught his eyes flicking downwards before she looked down as well.

Gods! With a speed that might have made DagenHeart jealous, Nettie snatched her napkin off her lap and wiped away the smear of brown gravy. She was far too embarrassed to notice the fact that their cheeks were matching in redness.

"Thank you for letting me know," she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "It seems my cutlery has failed me."
 
Orson took a bite of his mousse onto his spoon, pushing it about absently as he considered, carefully, what his wife had said. His head tilted a bit. “I admit freely that being present for a trade negotiation with obese merchants sounds absolutely dreadful. I’m not suited for such a task. But…” He cleared his throat, looking up to Dremara.

“Would it be possible to extend an invitation to them? Show them the furs we have to trade? The fish and the meat that can be preserved on our plentiful ice?” Among other things Orson was positive he wasn’t thinking of at the moment; the ore veins were rich in the Iron Vale. It was named so for a reason.

“We are Queen and King. They can come enjoy Kota hospitality and negotiate with your keen mind; and I will be making sure they don’t express such a thought as viewing you as lesser for being my wife.” He was quite serious. He’d send their heads back to their homeland in baskets.

Cillian couldn’t meet Nettie’s gaze as she swiftly snatched her napkin to wipe away the gravy and he tried to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make this weirder than it already was. He cleared his throat, then Nettie pointed out the failure of the cutlery. “I’ll melt that down that knife to make.. A … knife.” Smooth, Cillian.

He could only laugh at himself. “A better one, though.”
 
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