Promised by the Stream

by Vulion

Summary:

Under a tree by a stream, Lady Quistis confronts Sir Seifer about his conduct.

An encounter that changes both their fates.

A promise made. A promise kept.

Chapter 1: Ruin

“Don’t you dare look at me like that!”

Sir Seifer Almasy did not move as he stared at Lady Quistis Trepe. He did not so much as flinch. He stood, his arms behind his back, one hand clenching the wrist of his other. They were in a clearing next to a small stream, away from the other Lords and Ladies of the court.

The king had called a hunt to celebrate his marriage, the new queen to accompany him. Seifer himself was part of his Lord Josef’s retinue, lead by his lord’s young son and heir while Lord Josef was abed, attempting to recover from injuries sustained almost a year ago. He was to ride with his young charge and guard him during the hunt. Or he would have, had a letter carried by a maid in the service of Lady Quistis Trepe not been pushed into his hands. The words spoke of a meeting deeper in the woods. It could have been the underworld itself and he would have been no less eager. The royal court was in the midst of a meal, so the young knight had snuck off once his time on watch had ended.

It was all he could do to keep himself from charging at her. He ground his teeth as he thought of pulling her into his arms. He squeezed his wrist as he imagined feeling her warmth against his body.

He would maim to smell her hair. Kill to taste her lips and skin.

A single kiss and he would die a man fulfilled. One touch of her lips against his, and heaven would be able to offer him nothing because he would already have found paradise on earth.

“Your gaze has not changed, wretch!” Lady Quistis spat, her face twisted in fury. By all the gods above, it only made her more beautiful. The fire in her eyes burned so gorgeously. He would accept her anger if it meant her eyes burned at him.

It was not first time she looked at him like that. 

They had spoken before, at court. Several times, in fact. Lady Trepe was brilliant but reserved, attending to her duties as a lady of her court with such skill and grace that she was envy of every courtier, man and woman alike. From the moment he heard her first speak, Seifer had fallen in love with her and the melodious sound of her voice. Silk and steel left her lips in perfect harmony, woven together so intricately that she could move between them with almost magical ease.

She had brought both to bear as she scared off suitor after suitor. Too verbose. Too intelligent. Too strong they deemed her, much to the chagrin of her noble father.

Fools and cowards, the lot of them.

Their conversations, if that polite word could be used for the words they loosed at each other like arrows meant to kill, were almost legendary in the kings hall. More than once, courtiers and friends had stepped between them when their blood was up. The knight enjoyed goading the lady; he took a twisted pride in being the only one to crack her composure. No one else but he could draw true anger and frustration out of her. He liked to think of it as dance, one where only the two of them knew the steps.

“Nor will it, my lady.” He informed her slowly, almost hypnotized by the way her blonde hair shone in the noonday sun. All the gold in the world could never hope to match its luster. Two forelocks of blonde hair framed her face, the rest of it hidden behind her horned escoffion. Her headdress was a deep, blue velvet that brought out the color of her eyes. He would drown in those cerulean orbs if she would allow it.

“Stubborn fool!” She hissed, spinning around to face the stream, her hand pressed against the bark of a large tree that wrapped it’s roots around a rock at the edge of the stream. The orange silk of her dress making her absolutely shine, standing in contrast to the browns and greens of the forest.

“I will never consider my feelings for you foolish.” Anger seeped into his words. He had been called a fool for many a reason, some of them even true but this was not one of them. His feelings for her would never be one of them. “They are brilliant. Almost as brilliant as you in light of the sun.”

“You think I will fall for flattery?” She scoffed but she did not turn around. The gown she wore had ermine collar that dipped low in the chest and in the back, exposing a significant portion of the her neck and shoulders. Though a veil hung from the horns of her head covering, the material was sheer. He saw color paint her pale skin a most appealing shade of pink.

“No. Flattery is waste of your time and mine. I would not dare to use such empty words.” He declared as a deep, animalistic need to run his finger tip down her neck and onto her back crashed through him. Seifer swallowed it down. For now. “I merely spoke the truth.” 

“Forget them, these feelings. We cannot be.” She ordered and for the first time, he heard the steel in her voice waiver. The sound of her words shaking stoked a fire in his heart. A flame that blazed wildly out of control.

Seifer took a step toward her. It was not quiet, the armor he wore made sure of that, chain and plate rubbing together to make a most deafening sound. She did not flinch, nor freeze, in fact, he heard he sigh loudly and her shoulders and head fell. The motion pulled her veil up, exposing the skin of her back. The knight took another step. Then another. His legs were long, so only a few were needed. Ere long, he stood behind her, the distance between them a mere fingers width.

“Tell me to cut the sun from the sky.” He demanded quietly. He watched her head rise and her shoulders tense. “Order me to pluck the stars from the sky to fashion you a necklace or for me to leap onto the moon in a single bound.”

Lady Trepe fidgeted under his intense gaze. Her hand fell away from where it was braced against the tree and disappeared from view. The way her elbows and arms bent, he wondered if it and its sibling were being held over her heart. Her shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths.

“For what purpose, Sir Almasy?” She asked, breathlessly. It seemed her need for air could not be sated.

“A mere list, my Lady.” He began through gritted teeth. She was so close now. He could reach out and touch her shoulder. Drag his knuckle down the exposed expanse of pale flesh behind the veil. He would finally know what her warmth felt like. Still, he held back. “Of tasks I would be able to complete before I would be able to forget my feelings for you.”

“You will ruin me…” She breathed, low and dangerous. Instinct took over as Seifer saw the telltale signs of an attack.

“YOU WILL RUIN ME!!!” She screamed as she whirled, her arm outstretched, fingers and palm of her right hand a flat plane. 

Seifer caught her wrist between the fingers of his right hand, a fingernails length away from his face. Tears welled in her eyes, running down her cheeks as anger knit her brows together. Her mouth was slightly ajar, perhaps in surprise at his quick defense. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

They stared, for hours, days or perhaps it was only for a heartbeat. Seifer did not know. Seifer did not give a damn. The entire world fell away except her face. Her anger melted away leaving only surprise and…something else. Something that scared him as much as it made his heart soar with elation. 

Yearning. Desperate, full hearted want shining in her eyes among the tears.

Slowly, Lady Trepe’s eyes drifted to her caught wrist. Her eyes widened slightly, her breathing, once heavy and rapid, now stilled completely. Seifer followed her astonished gaze and realized the reason for her seized lungs. His fingers were wrapped around her sleeved wrist but his thumb rested near the center of her palm. The knight had left his gauntlets in his tent, so his hands were bare. His skin on hers.

Finally.

The warmth traveled to every corner of his body, so complete, so total was her inadvertent conquest of him. He had never felt it’s like and, he did not know why, he felt it in his very marrow that there was nothing like it in all of creation. This heat was hers, wholly and uniquely. And now it lay underneath his thumb. 

Seifer hand slipped up, leaving her wrist to envelope her fingers in his, his thumb caressing the inside of her hand on the way. He heard her make a noise, it was music to his ears. The knight turned to the lady. His eyes locked on hers as he ran his thumb over the smooth knuckles of her hand. Lady Quistis Trepe shut her eyes and another noise, not quite a gasp but not entirely a moan, left her lips.

A madness took hold of him. Not a wild, crazed thing but the type of madness only those absolutely certain of their actions were consumed by. Zealotry. Foolishness. Passion. It had many names but all that mattered now is that it had him completely in its hold. His eyes fell to her hand again. Her gorgeous, slender fingers curled around his thumb. The nails well maintained, free of damage or debris. His thumb  pushed her digits up, exposing more of her palm. Without a second’s hesitation, he lowered his lips to the skin.

“Sir Almasy, wha-?!” The question evaporated into the air, replaced by a stifled cry as his lips touched her open palm.

Touch and now, taste. So much he believed beyond his grasp now branded onto his mind. Seifer’s lips lingered, firm yet tender. He pulled away after a time, breathing in the smell of her. His eyes closed as he tried desperately to focus only on her scent, some perfume he had only faintly smelled before. He let himself swim in the aroma.

Her hand moved before he could react or fully pull away. She slipped out of his grasp, weakened by the stupefied state he found himself in, and caressed his cheek. Even more shockingly, her thumb glided across his mouth. She went slowly, as if trying to commit the sensation to memory. All thought burned away.

Quistis guided his head gently to face her. What he saw made his eyes widen and his blood burn. Her cheeks were almost ruby red and her eyes burned with such desire, that what he had seen in them before was but an echo of a whisper in comparison. So enamored he was in the way she looked at him, he failed to hear the words that spilled out of her mouth.

“What?” Seifer asked dumbly, the various parts of his mind at war about who would take the reins.

“Please…” Quistis begged, moving forward. She pressed herself against his breastplate, taking hold of the tunic that covered it with her free hand. His jaw locked as she craned her neck to look up at him, the need in her blue eyes as plain as day. He cursed his armor for keeping the feeling of her pressing against his body away from him. “I beg of you…by all the gods above…”

Seifer’s eyes focused on her lips as they formed the next words and completely shattered his world.

“Ruin me…”

Instinct took over. His mouth crashed onto hers, their mutual moans creating a harmony of longing. His hand found her cheek as he moved forward. She stumbled back, but his other hand found the small of her back, keeping her close and upright. This seemed to emboldened her because she, in turn, stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. One of her hands even fisted his hair.

Before, he would have killed for the chance to brush her lips against his. Now, having actually tasted her, he would end the fucking world just to prolong it a heartbeat further. She tasted of berries and wine. Of hope and light.

He wanted more.

Seifer’s tongue shot out, careening through the small gap formed by her mouth as she tried to breath in air between kisses. She jolted in his arms, stiffening for the briefest of moments before falling into him again, all wet clay. Quistis’ tongue met his with equal if not more fervor. She was intoxicating, the more he had of her, the more it was not enough. 

Paradise. True paradise on earth.

Earth.

Seifer’s eyes erupted open and he pulled away from her. Quistis looked up at him with confusion, her eyes heavily glazed over with want. He fought every fiber of his being to not take her mouth into his again.

“I will ruin you, my lady.” The young knight warned, trying to reestablish some form of decorum. He attempted to create more space between them but the arms around his neck did not let go. If anything they became as steel, unyielding to his maneuvers.

“You cannot, Sir Knight.” She explained, her every word drenched and dripping with desire. “I am already yours.”

A boulder from a catapult directly to the head would have struck him with less force. He gaped at the Lady, his Lady now by her own words, unable to speak or think. The smile she gave him was warm and welcoming. It was home, hearth and hall all in one. His world began and ended with her now.

“How long?” Seifer asked quietly, not really believing his dream, of romance and love, of having her smile at him in such a manner could come true. That it could meet the rays of morning and not fade beyond memory as most dreams do.

“The first day we met.” Quistis answered proudly.

It was a day that sat carved into the stone of his memory. He had been knighted on the field of battle at eighteen a full three years before most knights made their oaths, rescuing his lord during an ambush and almost single handedly driving off the attack. He had earned knighthood, accolades and a scar running diagonally across the center of his face. A banquet was held to honor the victory.

That’s where he met her. Lady Quistis Trepe, a radiant beauty that stood apart from the rest of the court. He thought her a queen when his eyes fell upon her the first time. Seifer remembered walking over to her as if in a trance. The smile that greeted him upon his arrival would have knocked any number of her retinue of hangers-on and worshippers off of their feet. Instead, it had knocked him out of his stupor because it was a mere pantomime, not reaching her eyes.

Their first conversation did not go well.

“I called you a liar.” Seifer recalled.

“I was.” She admitted, lowering her arms from his neck to rest on the flat in his breastplate. Again, he cursed the armor that had saved his life more than once. “So long had I played the part of noble lady, I had forgotten myself. You reminded me, and I hated you for it.”

“Your words were sharp but I found myself enjoying the way they cut into me.” The knight chuckled. “It was as if I saw a part of you no one else was privy to. Savage, unbound…a secret meant only for me.”

“I could not stop thinking of you after.” The lady confessed. “I believed them, after a time, the suitors and courtiers. That the lie was all I was. The tower I had built to protect myself became my prison. Well-furnished and decorated but a dark and lonely place.”

Seifer dared to place his on her cheek. He was rewarded with a contented sigh and the object of his most ardent affections leaning into his touch. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Then you, noble knight, cracked the walls of that darkest dungeon.” She continued as his heart threatened burst out of his chest. “A sliver of light cut into my darkness. I recoiled from it, at first, so accustomed to the shadows I was after so long. Hence, my vitriol towards you.”

“You sought to repair the crack.” He surmised. “Hide away again.”

“Yet, I could not…” Quistis’ eyes opened slowly and he found himself transfixed by them. “Every time you looked at me, I felt seen. Not the veneer all the others profess to worship and love but me, the woman. Quistis not the Lady Trepe. By the sky above, when you looked at me it was as if there nothing else in the world for you to see.”

“Because there was not. I saw a sun hidden beneath a veil as if the way it shone was decided to be too strong for others eyes.” It was his turn to confess. “I saw a predators eyes, clever and dangerous, yet…stifled. Like a proud and noble lioness sitting shackled to a wall. It angered me.”

“I am not so g-grand and noble…” Her eyes drifted down as a blush took hold of her cheeks.

“I saw it most when you were upset or angered. The flare of life unrestrained. The sun rising over horizon to bring light and warmth. I would do anything to see such radiance free to shine.” Seifer told her, thumb running across her cheeks. He smirked down at her. “Hence, my provocations.”

Quistis blinked up at him and Seifer wondered if his words were not enough or too crude to make her understand the full weight of his feelings for her. Then she giggled and he decided all was right in the world.

“You have a talent for provocation.” She murmured.

“My teachers and trainers would not call it that.” He mused, his smirk fading but not disappearing entirely. “I spent most of my youth with blood on my knuckles.”

His lady glanced at his hand still on her cheek. She took it into her own and looked at it. Seifer felt apprehension well within him. His hands were scarred and calloused. Ugly things that were only good for killing, nothing that could compare to hers. Which made it all the more surprising when she kissed his knuckles.

“My lady…” He managed as a devastating ache took hold of him. An ache for her and her lips.

“Yes. Your lady. Should that be your desire.” She said with her mouth still caress his fingers. He shook as the ache increased. 

It would be soon. Either they stopped now or they would be no return. One outcome terrified him. The other as well but that possible ending also filled him with overwhelming excitement. He forced it down.

“I do…more than glory, more than honor, more than the fucking world.” He growled, gritting his teeth. He would harm her these next words, but the wound would heal. She would have a future. “But we cannot be. I will not do this dishonorable thing to you.”

The light went out of Quistis’ eyes and Seifer’s heart bled. Her shoulders slumped and her head fell and he felt as if he were watching her die. His regret was complete and immediate.

“Please, do not send me back into the darkness…” 

Her voice, small and broken, ripped his heart to shreds. Seifer opened his mouth but no sound came out. Worthless, he was worthless. Before her light, though dimmed, still shone secretly, defiant against what the world demanded of her. She had given it to him, hoping he would let its rays dance freely. Instead, it lay crushed in his ungrateful hands.

“Forgive me…” Seifer managed to mutter weakly, hanging his head.

“It would be best if we took different paths to the tents. So as to not arouse suspicion. ” Seifer’s eyes bulged. That manner of speech was unmistakable. He whipped his head up and he saw it. 

Lady Quistis stood before him, her mask of grace and virtue firmly in place. She looked at him like she would any member of the court, her polite smile a dead thing lying on her face. His blood boiled near instantly upon seeing himself reflected in her lightless eyes.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that.” He growled.

Quistis’ mask cracked immediately, mouth parting. To hell with duty, to hell with honor. Cast the world and its people into the abyss if they would come between this. Them. All he wanted was her. She had called him a fool before. His beloved was astute as always. A fool to deny such a fundamental truth. She was his and he was hers.

Seifer flew forward, taking hold of her wrists with one hand and pulling them above her head as he pushed her against the tree at her back. His other hand took hold of her neck, just below the jaw, turning her head up just in time for his mouth to collide with hers. This kiss was a hungry, relentless beast. His lips and tongue savagely attacking hers. Her mask fell away completely as she tried to press into him with as much strength as he was using to restrain her. She even managed to push his head back, so wild was her desire.

They eventually stopped to breathe, foreheads pressed together. The world felt so far away that they may as well have been on an island at sea. 

“Is this real?” She asked, barely a whisper. “Please, let it be real.”

“Yes. More real than all else in the world.” His hand release her neck and touched her face.

“Swear to me.” She commanded, her voice baring that steel he was so enamored with. “Do not take it away again. It would kill me.”

“Forgive me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, just below her headdress. Releasing her hand from above her head, his placed both of his on her shoulders, his thumbs resting on the bare skin inside the fur collar of her gown. “Never again will I deny what this is. What you are to me. I swear it…Quistis.”

The look of utter shock at the uttering of her name was sublime. No titles or rules existed here.

“Again. Say my name again.” Quistis pleaded. He could not deny her.

“Quistis, my love.”

The ache in her face increased tenfold. Her breathing once again became heavy, causing her chest to rise and fall in a most distracting manner. His blood stirred as her face became flush.

“It’s not enough…”  Her were eyes glazing over with desire. The blood that was roiling inside him found its destination between his legs. “I thought seeing you, alone, would be enough to snuff the fire. It was not.”

“What do you mean?” Seifer swallowed as rational thought became harder and harder to maintain.

“This aching need!” She explained as the color spilled onto her neck and shoulders. “Every time you looked at me, a blaze would come to life in my belly. As you continued your gaze, it would travel down…between my legs…”

He could not help the smirk that stretched across his face. He moved closer to her, his right  forearm resting against the  trunk of the tree, above the points of her escoffion. His left hand made a repeating journey up and down her arm, the rich velvet smooth to the touch. Quistis was completely unaware of how much his pride had grown because of her confession. The fact that his mere look caused her such pleasure and frustration would never be toppled as his proudest achievement.

“And my kisses, my touches…” He purred at her. “Not enough to satiate you?”

“No.” She shuddered. “They have only added fuel. I will be ash if this continues.”

“What do you know…” Seifer began as he lowered his face to hers, brushing his lips against her cheek. “…of love making?”

“Hmph, you think me some innocent maid.” She scoffed. A facade of indifference came over but it was weak. “Women talk, Ser Knight. My mother, my fellow ladies of the court, my maids. I know what it entails.”

“The retelling of the act…” Seifer’s head dropped to her neck. He began a trail of kisses, beginning with her jaw and ending when the collar of her dress shielded the rest of her shoulder. The squeaks she made were very un-ladylike and resoundingly erotic. He glanced up at her, his mouth still against her skin. “…is nothing compared to first hand experience.”

The hand at her arm moved from her limb to her stomach as he twisted slightly to the side. Her entire body shook as his palm pressed against her abdomen. Quistis braced her hands flat against the tree as he started to push his fingers down her body towards the fork between her legs. His movement was slow, deliberate, meant to madden her with anticipation. From the hungry look on her face, he was succeeding. 

Seifer reached the precipice of her sex and stopped. He lifted his face from her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

“Shall I continue?” The knight asked.

“If you stop, I will end you.” The lady informed him.

He pressed a kiss to her lips and seized a fistful of skirt. He did not take his time lifting it, nor did his lady allow him to do it all by himself. As his fist went as high as it could, her hands followed, seizing and lifting all of her layers as quickly as she could. Seifer let her hold them as he let go. He looked down and nearly lost control. Her legs were long and slender. Stockings, blue in color, were pulled up past her knees, held in place by an orange silk cord tied just below the joint. Her thighs were pale and her feet sat in embroidered leather shoes. A heavenly sight.

Her fingertips found the thigh of her left leg, just above the stocking. It was his turn to shudder as he dragged them up, towards their final destination. He took his time, as if he was touching something most holy. In a way he was, never had creation shown him something so divine or let him lay his hands upon it. Even only half way up the her thigh, he felt the heat coming off of her lower lips. When his fingers finally reached them, they were absolutely drenched. His middle finger slid down the length of her entrance and was practically dripping by the time it made a return journey.

“Please, Seifer, I beg you…” His lady moaned. The look on her face was one lost to pleasure. His pride swelled to new heights.  “Do not make me wait. I have wanted this for so lon—ahhhh!”

Quistis leaned forward, moving her hips down to grind against his hand as his middle and ring finger plunged into her all the way to the knuckle, interrupting her plea. Shock and ecstasy danced across her face as Seifer pulled his digits out of her almost completely before thrusting them back in. She moved her skirts into one hand to free the other to grab his face, pulling him into another duel of lips and tongues. His swirled his fingers inside at the end of each plunge, enjoying the feeling of her moaning against his mouth in response. He needed to hear more of her beautiful songs, composed of her raw, primal sounds.

Sir Irvine’s and Margery’s bawdy tales and advice had aided him so far, it was time to see if his last piece of guidance held merit. He removed his fingers from her and began a search above drenched folds. There he found it after a careful parting of the skin. A small nub, raised slightly above all the other sleekness. He made a slow circle around it with a middle finger. Quistis let out a cracked gasp. His counselors in this matter had told him the reaction may be quick, but not this quick and not this strong.

Quistis’ legs began to shake and her knees began to buckle. His other arm removed itself from the tree to catch her shoulder just as she seemed ready to collapse to the earth. He stopped his fingers to make sure she would stay upright. The hand she used to brace against the tree flew to his wrist as her mouth found his again.

“Do not stop, please, for the love of that is good, do not stop!” She exclaimed into his mouth. Sir Seifer’s eyebrows shot up. He was doing far better than he would have thought for a first time.

And so, he continued to attend that sensitive button between her legs. She joined in as well, swaying her hips along with his movements. Her fascinated eyes fell to the space between them. She watched with rapt attention as he worked her sex. He wondered if she enjoyed watching it as much as he enjoyed watching her melt under his touch. 

Then it happened. The grip on his wrist increased, a violent shudder went through her body, the sway of her hips became faster and more violent. He increased his tempo on her nub, trying to match her need.

When she shattered, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. They kissed once more, the cry of her pleasure thrown into the back of his throat. Her knees did truly give out this time, so Seifer had to catch her. He pushed her more firmly against the tree as his right hand found her hip, his left hand was unable to render aid because it was held firmly in place by his lady. 

Seifer stared and tried to memorize every aspect of her recovering face. The shallow breaths, the red on her cheeks, the way her hair was stuck to her skin with sweat. She was gorgeous. After gathering her breath, she let go of his wrist and they let her skirts fall back to her feet. The blush stayed on her cheek as she tried to brush her hair away from her face.

He did not wake. No dream or holy vision kept him in its grasp. The air that filled his lungs was real, along with sun in the sky beaming down at him through leaves of the tree they stood under. The tree he pressed Lady Quistis Trepe against in their bout of passion. He rubbed the fingers that he used to grant her release. They were soaked in her wetness.

Seifer brought the hand marked by her to his face, pressing the back of it to his nose. He breathed in deep through his nostrils. The smell was better than any perfume. He closed his eyes and sighed happily; a strained sounded made him open them again. He found an absolutely scandalized Quistis staring at him. He found himself noticing her throat as a large swallow made it move.

An idea came to mind. He would give her a tale to tell her maids and fellow ladies. The fingers that had been wrapped in her sleek, internal flesh were pressed to his lips. His Lady’s eyes looked to fall out her head with how they widened.

“W-w-what are you doing?” To see her angry was a joy, to see her so flustered was unbridled ecstasy. If for no other reason then that he was the catalyst.

“Partaking of the scared ambrosia.” With that, he ran his tongue over the digits that knew her so intimately. There was only one word for the taste. “Heavenly…”

“You are…you…” For the first time since knowing her, Seifer witnessed Lady Quistis at a loss for words. May as well press the advantage.

“Did I impress with my dexterity?” He grinned. Though the evidence was plain for both of them to see, he wanted to hear her say it. 

Quistis gaped at him for a moment or two before her hand covered her mouth to hide a bout of giggles. Once she had regained control of herself, she revealed a most sultry smile. His grin shrank.

“I assure you, Sir Knight, I am deeply satisfied.” His lady cooed. Suddenly, the inside of his armor began to feel like a furnace. She was always dangerous.

Rustling in the bushings made him jump away from her. Across the clearing, Quistis’ maid, a dark haired, mousey girl named Maria, appeared from the tree line. She quickly closed the distance and curtsied.

“My lady. Your father and brother are searching for you.”

A bucket of iced water may as well have been dumped on his head for how the news cooled the heat in his veins. It did not kill it completely but it became mere embers. His eyes went to his secret. 

“Ah. Then I must return.” The Lady Trepe sighed, a demure smile on her face. It was as if the nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “It wouldn’t do to make them worry. Sir Almasy?”

Seifer snapped to attention, his hand on his sword. The way she moved and spoke was like at court, composed and deliberate. The ease with which she moved put the anxiety of having to face her father and brother to rest. She had a plan. Always dangerous.

“My lady.” The knight inclined his head toward her.

“It seems I have lost my way in the woods.” She curtsied toward him, a polite indifference on her face. A helm for the battles she needed to fight. “Would you, gallant sir, escort me back to the King’s retinue?”

“It would be my honor, my lady.” He walked past her, stopping to look over his shoulders. “If you both would allow me to guide you.”

“By all means.” She nodded at him, all poise and decorum. Maria stepped beside her and nodded. “Please lead the way.”

The walk back to camp was rather uneventful. The sun was still high in the sky and the hidden deer path that lead to the clearing was simple enough to follow. They were half way back when Lord Trepe emerged from the greenery.

“Daughter!” Lord Adelbert Trepe, also known as the Old Lion, ran right past Seifer to embrace his child. “Your mother and I were absolutely beside ourselves with worry.”

“I am well and whole, father.” Quistis laughed as she returned the embrace. The Lord Trepe was a respected commander of the King’s army, responsible for many victories. He was also known as a doting father. “I was rescued.”

“Rescued?” Lord Trepe pulled himself out of her arms and stood to his full height. Though not as tall as Seifer, he still cut an impressive figure. Blond and blue-eyed like his daughter, though his hair had several streaks of grey, his large frame projected strength.

“Yes. I had dragged poor Maria with me on an adventure into the woods.” The lie was not really a lie. It just omitted a fact or two. Seifer had to admit, she was well suited to court life. “I do not know how long we wandered when Sir Seifer came across us.”

It looked as if Lord Trepe suddenly remembered there was a fourth person in the vicinity. He turned towards Seifer with a wary eye. Seifer bowed.

“I came across them down this deer path.” The young knight corroborated. “There is a clearing up the path with a large tree next to a stream. I found the Lady Trepe and her maidservant there.”

“I remembered your hunting lessons, father.” Quistis interjected. “Always follow moving water downstream.”

The Lord Trepe studied his daughter, his face unreadable. She returned his gaze evenly, not retreating a single step, the easy smile on her face unwavering. Barest hint of his own smile graced Adelbert Trepe’s face. He turned to Seifer.

“Sir Seifer, I am in your debt.” Lord Trepe declared seriously.

More rustling announced the arrival of yet another person. Lord Squall Trepe, Quistis’ younger brother and heir-apparent to his father’s lands and titles stalked onto the path. Seifer grip on the handle of his sword increased.

The young lord regarded Seifer coolly with pale blue eyes beneath of canopy of brown hair. The Lord Squall was celebrated as the best sword in the kingdom. The Young Lion. He always wondered if he would keep that title if he and Seifer crossed swords. They had met once, in the tourney lists. The joust specifically. Their exchange had ended in a draw. And a scar for the young warrior, a result of Seifer’s lance striking him in his helmeted face during the final exchange.

Apparently growing bored of their contest of stares, Squall looked behind him, at his family.

“Sister. Father. All is well?” His tone was even. The heir to the Trepe lands was a reticent man. None really knew what he thought.

“Brother!” Quistis ran past both her father and Seifer to take Squall’s arm. “You would not believe it! I went an a romantic adventure!”

“That’s a strange way of saying you ended up lost in the forest” Squall grumbled as he was pulled away by his sister. “Are you well? You’re acting strange.”

“You must be polite to ladies, dear brother.” She admonished. “I am well. I simply managed to live for a moment in one of the stories of old. A fair maiden lost in the woods is a classic beginning to many a chivalric tale.”

“If you say so, sis.” Her brother acquiesced, paying Seifer and his father no more heed as the siblings walked back. He, Lord Trepe and the maid Maria fell in behind them.

“A gallant knight rescued me.” She laughed, looking over her shoulder at him. The smile she gave was innocent and friendly. A kind gesture of thanks. “Thank you, dear knight. I cannot wait to tell mother. She will be green with envy!”

“Envy is a sin, dear sister.” Squall reminded, rolling his eyes. “But it is…good to see you so alight.”

“Of course, my lady.” Seifer bowed his head as he walked. The young knight did not know if he should be more mortified or impressed by how easily she sway the conversation in a direction of her choosing.

“Thank you for indulging her.” Lord Trepe sighed beside him. “I meant it, when I said I am in your debt.”

Seifer’s heart hammered in his chest. The very suspicion of what he had done to Lord Trepe’s daughter would have been enough to get him hanged or gelded when it was wielded with the power Adelbert Trepe commanded. Perhaps a gelding while hanging. Some lords were very creative in their punishments.

“Think nothing of it, my lord.” Seifer ran his thumb over the middle and ring fingers of his left hand. “Nothing…nothing extraordinary.”

“To you, perhaps. To a father, the safety of his children is paramount.” The young knight looked the lord. His reputation was of a fearless warrior and shrewd commander but here, in the shadows of the forest, he walked as a doting, concerned father. His paces slowed and Seifer matched it. “I have not seen her so bright in years…”

“My lord?”

“She loved the tales of knights and maidens when she was younger.” The older man spoke less like a lord and more like a father now. “As she grew and she realized the world was not like her books, it…dimmed her. And while I took great pride at how she took to court life, I could not help but think a unique, beautiful light had been snuffed.”

Seifer said nothing. Just continued to listen.

“The gods granted us six children.” A lump formed in the large man throat and a pain settled in his eyes. “Four were…recalled in their youth. And for so long, I thought I sent a fifth to an early grave.”

A steady breeze rolled through, filling the forest with song of dancing leaves. Seifer stared after the backs of the brother and sister Trepe. 

“Though a small gesture, by your hand, you brought her great joy.” The old lord smiled at him and Seifer found his throat had suddenly dry. His left hand quietly disappeared from sight, holding his scabbard closer to the thigh. “You serve Lord Josef?”

“I do, my lord.” The knight quirked a brow, wondering where this line of questioning was headed.

“Would you serve me?”

The question made Seifer stop dead in his tracks.

“M-My lord?” Seifer stuttered as the question bounced around the inside of his skull. The day was filled to bursting with impossibilities. Lord Trepe was Warden on the north lands and Marshal of the King’s armies besides. To serve under him was any knight’s dream.

“I know of Lord Josef’s condition. He will not go to war again.” The Lord Trepe stated plainly. “War is coming to the marches. I will need good men to fight it.”

“My service is sworn to my lord.” Seifer’s hand at his sword shook. As much as he owed Lord Josef, the man was crippled from the ambush a year ago. He would not ride nor swing a sword again. His son was eager but young and inexperienced. It would be years if not a near decade before he could lead his men to glory.

A war gave opportunity for advancement and riches. Perhaps enough to secure a grand enough position that any noble family in the realm would offer him their daughter. Even the vaunted Trepe’s.

But he had sworn. A knight was only as good as his word and oaths.

“If Lord Josef gave you leave?” Lord Adelbert suggested.

“If…if he gave his leave…yes. Yes, my lord, I would join you in your endeavors.” Seifer swallowed. He would wake soon. He had too.

“Then it is settled!” Adelbert Trepe clapped Seifer Almasy on the shoulder almost hard enough to break bone. A lion, indeed. “Join me at my tent this evening.”

“Yes, my lord.” The knight agreed. His eyes followed the strut of the proud nobleman. 

How he found his tent, Seifer did not recall. He barely remembered having his squire remove his armor. He did not join the hunt again later in the afternoon, his mind too occupied to focus on anything but what had transpired earlier that day and what would transpire this evening. He sat on his cot, elbows on his knees, hand folded together in front of his face. Any person walking by would no doubt think he deep in prayer.

He was in a way. The smell of her lingered on his fingers. If he prayed to anything, it was to her. The aroma proof of their carnal encounter and of their bond. It was new but something told him the roots of this connection were already buried deep.

And to have gained the favor of her father.

Serendipitous.

Could fate be that kind to him? It had killed people for wanting less.

Maybe he was brave enough to find out. An idea wandered into his mind. Sir Seifer stood and left his tent. The idea was either hope or madness but he could not be bothered to determine which.

He was going to make it a reality regardless.

As he stepped into the open air, Seifer checked the sun. Still enough time. He made sure his dagger hung from his belt, then made his way into the woods to find that deer path again.

A task had to be completed before he could meet with his new lord.

Notes:

This was inspired by the Seiftis Forever Discord Server Prompt: Lists.

Then it grew completely out of my control.

I hope to take you on an entertaining ride.

Chapter 2: Dream

Summary:

This one is gonna have more overt smut. Be warned!

The sound of screaming roused Quistis from her restless sleep. Clashing steel joined the cacophony alongside heavy steps and crumbling masonry. She lifted her face from her pillow, pushing herself up onto her elbows, pushing the her chest from the mattress as sleep still clung to her mind. The blanket fell from her back, the cool air flowing in from the open window making goosebumps erupt along her shoulders. A strange, solid red light shone into her bedchamber from night beyond her walls, turning everything to a shade of crimson.

The impossibly loud boom of something striking the walls of the castle, so resounding it made everything in her room shake violently, finally tore her completely from the confused haze of sleep. The explosion made the young noblewoman scramble to her knees on the bed. The ringing in her ears gave way to a renewed chorus of singing steel and blood curdling screams. It grew louder. Closer.

As if it were coming for her.

Quistis stared at the door to her chambers. In the crack beneath, another red light painted the stone floor and rugs with its luster. It was brighter and sharper than the one from the window. She crawled to the end of the bed, the blanket falling from her nude form completely. Heavy steps filled her ears, so loud that it seemed whoever was running was doing so right beside her head.

Shadows formed in the light spilling from underneath the door. Two shadows on opposite sides. They charged at it each otherp, the clang of metal near deafening her each time they met. Quistis covered her ears to try to keep the impossibly loud battle out but it was to no avail. She only found relief at its end, when she heard one of the shadows fall to the floor, followed by a wet, gurgling sound that at once sounded very human yet anything but. Silence reigned after that.

Her chest rose and fell like the tides of the sea as she listened to the movement beyond the threshold of her room. Long, arduous seconds passed as she strained to hear anything that could tell her what was going on. Instead, she bore witness to a liquid pouring out from underneath her door. Dark and thick, it filled every crevice of the stone floor. She knew its smell.

Blood.

There was slam at the door that made her jolt. The barrier to her bedchamber slowly swung open, revealing a hallway aglow with unnatural, sanguinary light. In the center of the threshold stood a knight absolutely drenched in the same dark liquid that stained her floor. The thing of crimson and metal stared at her and she felt her heart hammer. The blood came off the warrior in streams and droplets, adding to the small lake that pooled at his feet. Behind the armored figure, she spotted another knight on the floor. The defeated shadow. He lay, facing the ceiling. His visor was pulled up and a sword stuck out of his head, plunged into his face where it stood as a bloody grave marker.

Quistis smiled at the bloody knight.

Even with his visor down, she knew the gaze that stared at her naked form. A stare meant only for her, a form of ravenous desire and utter devotion so profound it filled her heart near to bursting. It also fueled the fire between her legs to an almost uncontrollable degree. Chain and plate scratched against each other as the knight, her knight stomped into the room. She licked her lips as she watched him approach, the ache inside only growing stronger and more profound with each step he took.

When he finally stood over her in front of her bed, she was near full to bursting with need. 

The gauntlets fell from his hands. Beneath the armor, his fingers and skin still ran with blood, ruby rivers falling to the floor. He put his hand to her cheek, running the thumb over her lips, no doubt painting them red. She shuddered at the touch, almost coming undone right then and there. Heat erupted across her face as she closed her eyes to savor the feeling of his touch. She was enamored with the energy that flowed between them when he was near, connecting them in such a way she did not need to see him to know his presence. His hand moved, catching her chin to lift it up. Her eyes fluttered open to look him, only to find the visor of his helmet instead.

That required change.

With a gentle hand on his chest, she pushed him back a pace. In that spot between the bed and him, she stood, regal and naked. She felt the blood at her feet, oozing between her toes but she cared little. She lifted her chin to him and caught his eyes in a silent command. He immediately fell to his knees before her, sagging with his limbs hanging limply from his sides. She smiled at her devoted lover.

He was hers.

This mass of muscle, steel and violence. This being of passion and the need to prove his strength to the world. Hers.

She stood at the apex of his world.

Blood stained her hands as she grasped the sides of his helm. She lifted the armor from his head and cast it aside, leaving nothing to hide his burning eyes from her. Seifer’s green eyes near glowed with his desire for her, his face yearning and reverent as if she were some form of divine being. Her blood covered fingers caressed his blood soaked face gently, marveling at the feel of his skin underneath the tips. He caught one of her hands in his and planted a kiss of her palm. She shivered at the touch, so simple yet so intimate.

The knight took hold of her, one arm around her thighs, the other on the small of her back. His head fell onto her stomach, where he nuzzled into her abdomen. The cold metal of his armor mattered little to her, let it absorb her heat, it would not cool her. Quistis stroked his hair.

“Quistis…” His hoarse whisper, part moan and part prayer, set every inch of her on fire. The desire inside her, before but a ripple moving through the waters of her, transformed into a great wave that consumed her, body and soul.

Quistis’ nipples went hard as she pulled his face up. The space between her legs flooded with even more heat as she pushed a stray lock of blond hair, drenched in red, away from his face. 

“Take me…” She commanded with a voice shaking with lust.

Seifer’s demeanor changed. The worship on his face burned away to reveal a wild need and a savage smirk. His tongue ran over his lips as he pulled away, pushing her gently onto the bed. Her legs hung over the side. She tried to crawl back on her elbows but found her legs held in place. She looked at him. He was still kneeling in front of her, a hand on either thigh, his eyes fixed on the space between her legs. Heat burned in her cheeks as she witnessed the look on his face. Hungry. Desperate. Perhaps sensing her state, he looked up. When their eyes met, his smirk grew. Uncertainty and desire swam in her in equal measure as she tried to understand what he intended to do.

Then his mouth fell to her sex and she understood completely. The moment his tongue touched her entrance, she came undone. Her breath caught, her back arched and her toes curled. Her mouth opened in a silently cry as wave after pulsing wave of pleasure flowed through her body, her shattering immediate. The red color of the room instantly disappeared, leaving her lying in her bed staring at her normal ceiling, trying to catch her breath. Trying to understand what happened.

Quistis was no longer nude, her chemise clung to her sweat drenched skin underneath her blankets. She was in the center of her bed, instead of halfway off of it. The sound of normal castle life filtered through her window instead of battle.

Worst of all, Sir Seifer was gone.

Another dream. The third this week. They were growing more vivid with each passing night.

The pleasure faded but an ache still remained. Fed but not fully satiated. She wondered if today would be the day of his return.

It was both joy and torture to have him serve her father. After the royal hunt, to her surprise and delight, her father had brought Seifer into his retinue of knights. Weeks of legal proceedings where Quistis could not sit still followed, except to stare at the main gate to the castle. When he had finally rode through, it was all she could do not to leap at him. From the stare that greeted upon him descending from his horse, he had much the same desire. Thus, the torture.

To have him in her home, in theory available at all hours of the day, was absolutely maddening. Before when her blood was up from their verbal spats, there was at least the prospect of distance to cool her down. Now, he stalked her halls. He walked the courtyard. More than once they had passed each other on the way to other business. Each time their eyes found each other for the briefest of moments. Many of her dreams for the past months had been of him pulling her into his arms when they passed in such a manner, ravishing there and then. The months passed arduously.

Her nipples hardened and the fire in her nethers roared to life again as memories of dreams and encounters flooded her body with want. They spoke often about everything and nothing; of apples and war. Of books and horses. They had stolen kisses, some chaste others ravenous battles of tongues, in the many shadows of the castle but nothing more. Too much risk. Her dreams had offered their service to aid her but they were always quick things, her climaxes always striking when the deed was truly getting interesting. Though, she supposed that was not the most frustrating problem to have.

This particular round of nighttime fantasies was evoked by a conversation she had with one of the castle maids near the beginning of the week.

Abigail, married to the keep blacksmith. The woman was particularly verbose once they managed to find some privacy. Quistis was not uneducated on such matters but the way her maid went on and on about it made even her blush. That’s where she learned of one particular act.

“He uses his…mouth? On you?” Quistis remembered balking, even as heat built in her stomach as the thought created a torrent of images in her mind.

“Yes, m’lady!” Abigail chirped proudly. “My beloved is a bit quick to let himself loose, gods be kind, tells me it’s because my beauty is so distracting. But he always makes sure give me my pleasure first. I dare say he’s more skilled with his tongue than with his hands!”

Many, many images of Sir Seifer’s tongue danced through her brain after that. He always licked his lips after they parted from kissing. He could be a messy eater; several times the juice from a ripe apple or other fruit had spilled down his chin. Her teeth ground as the memory of watching him from a window as one particularly juicy morsel sent a stream from his mouth to his jaw. He had wiped it away with his middle finger. After which he cleaned the digit with his tongue. Diligently. Quistis had near fallen though the window when her mother called to her from across the hall, so obsessed she had become with the workings of his tongue. That night proved to be a restless one.

Then, of course, the most profound memory of all. Their moment by the stream. Licking her wetness clean off his fingers. The way his eyes burned into hers after he had tasted her.

Ambrosia. Her juices were divine nectar to him.

Quistis’ hands moved down her body, her left stopping at her breast while her right traveled further. She reached into her chemise and squeezed the nipple between her forefinger and thumb, sighing at the pleasing feeling. She closed her eyes as her fingers descended towards the plateau of her sex. Though her dream had brought her a pleasant enough orgasm, she wanted more control over the pace of events. 

Her fingers took the dive towards her yearning nether lips and she opened her eyes. Sir Seifer Almasy loomed over her. He was without covering on his upper body, leaving his sculpted chest, stomach and arms for her admire freely. All of them were carved into her memory. She had seen him, chest bare in the training yard after drills, glistening with sweat. The shine of sun on his damp skin accentuating every curve or dip. Many cold, wet towels or rags were demanded for her neck after that.

His lower half had fitted white braies and dark brown chassues. She knew what hung between his legs, she just did not have the courage to imagine it swinging freely yet. 

She started with slow, deliberate circles with her four fingers. She watched her phantom knight pull back blankets and spread her legs, that  insufferable, enticing smirk on his face through out. She bent her knees and stuck them up towards the ceiling to give him, and herself, a better angle. She imagined the kisses he would give her thighs. Would they be a trail of quick, light things meant to tease or precise, heavy actions meant to savor her taste? Her movements increased in speed as she imagined him making the later choice. 

Quistis’ fantasy kissed her thigh just above the knee, below it from where she lay, lingering for several heartbeats. Another followed near the center, the lips staying even longer. The last taste was just before the curve of her joint, so close that if this Seifer were real, he would surely feel the heat coming off of her folds on his cheek. He pulled away after that, his green eyes finding hers and just staring. That was easy to imagine. She could never forget those eyes.

The knight lowered his head to her and planted a kiss to her lower lips. She tried to imagine would that would feel like as the first of her fingers made their way inside her. Both her previous climax and her new fantasy had left her wetter than October. Her index finger slid in and out easily. Seifer stuck out his tongue, long and wide and pressed it to her soaked entrance. Patience gave out as her left hand left her breast to attend to the nub above her sex as her right plunged to more fingers into herself. She watched her beloved lick, suck and just devour her, as if he were enjoying a most pleasing feast. She plunged into herself rapidly now.

“Seifer…” She breathed as her eyes shut in order to block out any senses not having to do with the work she was doing between her legs.

It was not long until second shattering but it definitely struck her more fiercely.

“Seifer!” She whispered frantically as pleasure wiped thought from her mind.

Her back arched as her hands continued to work until she collapsed into her sheets unable to do anything except take in deep gulps of air. She slowly opened her eyes to an empty room. 

Torture.

Oh, to lay next to him after such pleasure. To find the nooks and crannies on his body where she could lay and rest. Stolen kisses in shadows were not enough. Erotic dreams and fantasies were but droplets to a woman dying of thirst. Would that he were her husband. Lord and Lady allowed to share this with each other. She would greatly like that. But that was the true fantasy. 

The lady’s family would marry her off to whichever union benefited them the most. Squall himself was already engaged to marry a Lady Rinoa of House Caraway, from the Duchy of Galbadia, their neighbors to the east. Her father had presented suitors before but allowed her the right to refuse. As much as he was a hardened man of battle, he crumbled before her wants rather quickly. But he was an Earl, lord of vast lands and estates. Duty would compel him before long and compel her as well. Love was not something that was in her future, not if she married another.

A light rapping on the door pulled her out of her depressing realizations.

“Enter.” She called out as she pulled her blankets more over herself.

The door creaked and in stepped Maria. She curtsied and made her way over to the bed. In her hands she held a wash basin and rag, steam rising from the water.

“My lady, a messenger from your lord father.” Maria said quickly. “He and his knights will arrive ere long.”

Quistis took her meaning. The dark haired girl, a commoner that had lost her family to sickness, was her most trusted confidante. She knew everything. Quistis herself had nursed her back to health after her family died at great risk to her own life. That had earned eternal gratitude and service. Not that the noble lady had demanded it. It was offered freely. She smiled at her maid. The girl aided her rising as well as washing her hands, feet and face.

“Something simple, Maria.”

They went about the morning routine. A kirtle of rich, red silk with sleeves hanging down from the elbow, not her usual color but she felt compelled to wear it today. Beneath it a simple white dress with embroidered ivy’s along buttoned sleeves that reached her wrists. Her hair was done in two simple braids, pulled up and pinned near the crown of her head. She chose a simple circlet with a veil hanging from it for her headdress, leaving the top of her head exposed. With Maria’s help, she was done in no time at all. Slipping her stockinged feet into comfortable, leather shoes, Lady Quistis Trepe her way to the gate of the keep, to greet her father and brother. And a particular knight.

The halls and the grounds were alive with activity, the people moving about like blood to the many organs of the castle. She paid them all little heed until a voice called out over all of the noise. A familiar and very welcome voice. Quistis turned to greet her mother.

Lady Beatrix Trepe joined her daughter, the picture of nobility and grace. She wore the house colors of orange and blue with a dress similar to Quistis’. A blue velvet, embroidered torque covered her head, a veil hanging from the top of it to cover her shoulders and neck. Her hair was pulled into a bun that sat in a hairnet behind her head except for a length of light brown hair that covered her scarred right eye. She was flanked by two of her ladies in waiting. Eris and Tina.

“Daughter.” The Lady Trepe pulled her into an embrace. “You are on the way to the main gate?”

“Yes.” Quistis answered as she returned the embrace warmly. She and her mother were always especially close. “To greet father and brother.”

“Just the two of them?” Her mother asked as she pulled away from her child. The smile that graced her face was mischievous and knowing. Quistis did not flinch.

“And our loyal knights, of course.”

“Ah, yes. The knights.” Her mother’s tone was light and playful. She took he daughters arm and walked with her in the direction of the courtyard. “Sir Seifer has made quite the impression in these few months.”

Quistis stared straight ahead, trying to keep the heat from showing on her face. As ever, her mother was quite formidable. She dared not ask how much she knew.

“Yes.” Quistis agreed, her tone as even as she could manage. “Father did well to request his service.”

“I agree.” Though Quistis did not turn to look at her mother, she felt eyes burning into the side of her head. “I have not seen such skill with the sword since your brother. Your father oft hears the other senior knights complaining of the young man’s pride. Do you know what he tells them?”

“Something curt and gruff, no doubt.” Quistis answered with feigned indifference. Her heart swelled with pride at her lover’s prowess and skill.

“He tells them he would have more success stopping a forest fire by pissing on it.” Lady Beatrix informed her daughter with a laugh. “If he even wanted to.”

“Father’s tongue has always been crude in matters such as this.” The younger Lady Trepe complained but the fact that her father favored Seifer so well made her walk a bit straighter.

“Your father is blunt when he needs to be, besides…” A pit formed in the young noblewoman’s stomach as she glanced at her mother’s face. A very self-satisfied grin stretched across her lips. “Your father’s tongue is skilled in other aspects.”

“Mother.” Quistis groaned. Lady Beatrix let out another laugh.

“No shame in speaking the truth, dear child.” 

The thoroughly vexed daughter was about to retort when a pair of guards ran past them at all speeds. They did not even bow or greet the Lady and daughter of the house. Tension instantly filled the air as mother and daughter shared a look. More guards ran past, followed by a gaggle of servants. The women quickened their pace as they made for the gate. It was just as they turned the corner that lead to the courtyard they heard the first of the screams.

Armored men were pouring in through the gate haphazardly. Near the center of the throng of men a large man astride a large horse in the colors of their house lifted the visor of his helmet.

“WHERE IS THE FUCKING SURGEON!?” Lord Adelbert Trepe bellowed. So loud was his voice, Quistis was sure all creatures above and below the earth heard him.

Grooms and servants scrambled every which way. Lord Trepe practically jumped from his horse as a groom took the reins of his horse as more men rode into the courtyard. He landed on his feet with a great crash of metal on stone, his head whipping to and fro. Eventually, his eyes fell upon Quistis and her mother approaching him with all haste. He charged at them, pulling off his gauntlets and helm as he did. Once they met in the middle, her father pulled her mother’s face into his grimy hands and planted a fierce kiss on her lips. Lady Beatrix placed her hands on his, pushing herself as fiercely against him as he pushed towards her.

“Beloved…” Lord Trepe whispered when they pulled away. He sounded tired but relieved.

“Father, what has happened?” Quistis found herself pulled into a bone breaking one armed hug as her father took hold of her as the inquiry left her lips. She endured it, the smell of sweat, blood and metal invading her nose.

“We were betrayed.” Her father said softly but she felt the undercurrent of anger in his voice. “Marquis Vossler has thrown his lot in with the Palmecian Empire.”

A hundred pound stone of dread settled in Quistis’ stomach. The lands of the Marquis Vossler bordered theirs to the north. His realm in turn also bordered the ever expansionist Palmecian’s, a buffer, a shield for the rest of the kingdom. If he had truly betrayed the crown, the new border realm was that of the Trepe’s. They would be the first to feel a new war’s wrath.

“The raiders we were asked to hunt down were Vossler’s own men.” The Lord Trepe continued. “A hundred of them fell upon us. No doubt hoping to take my head.”

A hundred men against her father’s retinue of no more than fifty and an ambush at that. It was by some miracle of the gods that he had returned to them at all, seemingly unharmed. 

“Our son?” The Lady Beatrix asked, her voice and face tight with worry.

“He is well.” The voice came from behind her father. Squall walked around the Lord Trepe to greet them. Her brother was in much the same state as her father, grimy and bloody but whole. Both she and her mother ran to embrace him.

Quistis was vaguely aware of the courtyard filling with people. Some were the knights and men-at-arms that had guarded her father, others were servants and castle residents that poured out of every wall. The sound of wheels on cobblestone drew her face away from the shoulder of her brother. The noise originated from a large cart, pulled by horse driven by a one of her father’s squires. What she spied lay on it made her blood run cold.

Armored bodies.

“We managed to fight them off.” Squall told her as he turned to look at the cart. His face was stoic but emotion swam in his eyes. “Many fell to save us. These were all the fallen and injured we could bring back.”

There were at least a half dozen men in that cart. Some moaned and shifted. Others lay still, deathly so. A terrifying thought struck her. She tore away from her brother and stumbled towards the cart in a panicked haze. She may have heard her mother call after her or it could have been the wind, regardless it did not stop her.

Her feet took her to the end of the cart where pain and death greeted her. One of her father’s knights lay there, a black haired young man by the name of Zachary Fair. He had just been engaged to one of her mother’s ladies in waiting. Beside him a squire and man-at-arms. All stared at the sky with empty gazes. Two more men sat rocking back and forth, armor half off and crude bandages around bleeding injuries. The last lay quietly beside the dead men, his slowly rising chest the only indication he was not among the dead. None of them were him.

Quistis felt something push her aside and then heard a wail of total despair. She turned to find her mother’s lady-in-waiting, Eris, fall to her knee’s beside her. She was Sir Zachary’s betrothed. Betrothed no longer. Her heart shattered and fell away from her. Emptiness filled her entire being.

No relief came to her as she whipped her head around to count the other knights and soldiers. Near three dozen crowded before the keep, many were injured but not enough to keep them from riding. She looked for the colors of white and red. She looked from the emblem of the Fire Cross. She did not find them.

Despair flooded her every sense. She turned to the gate. She saw no other men approaching. She prayed, perhaps selfishly, that she would not become a companion in Lady Eris’ grief.

“No…”

A strong hand clutched her shoulder. She blinked up at her brother, his face a mixture of understanding and guilt. He lead her away from the cart, towards the keep. Quistis was barely aware of her feet as she walked. At some point, her mother joined them on her other side while her father marched beside them.

“I owe him my life.” Squall admitted. “I was unhorsed, a charging lance pointed at my chest as I got to my feet. He crashed his horse  between us, leapt from it and dragged my assassin into the dirt.”

“He fought like a man possessed.” Her father corroborated. “I was pressed by three of the whoreson’s and he drove them off with a halberd, on foot. Managed to kill one of them and take his horse. Gave it to Squall.”

“We managed to form a line around the carts near a bridge.” Squall continued. “Sir Seifer and his two men-at-arms…they volunteered to hold them attackers off while we…ran.”

The shame in Squall’s voice was but the ghost of a whisper but it was there. He and Seifer clashed many times in the training ring and though their contests were fierce, an understanding had blossomed between them. Something like a friendship. He had left a trusted comrade behind.

Pride mixed with grief in her heart. Her knight. Her beautiful, brave knight was gone. Dead, if she were accepting of the way of the world. So heroic yet that gave her little comfort. All she had left now were dreams and memories. They would tell stories of Seifer’s exploits, the bards would write songs. The earldom would not forget him. Nor would she.

But he would still be dead. Gone forever from her arms. Never to be felt or tasted again. Reality was a cruel mistress. She knew what she and Seifer had was a fantasy. Never to be fulfilled but there was always a hope, however small, that it could be. Now…nothing. 

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Bits and pieces floated in front her eyes. A message from the king. Her father sending out orders. Plans being formed for how to contain the crisis. Hours spent in the castle chapel flying by like seconds. All of it mattered little to her. Somehow, she found herself sitting at the dinner table in the great hall. A hand was over hers. Quistis looked up at her mother. A kind smile was waiting for her.

Quistis opened her mouth to speak but the doors to the great hall burst open. A guard ran in.

“My lord!” He yelled, out of breath. “Rider’s at the gate!”

She was gone before her father had time to set down his knife. She ran. Ran like the fires of hell were at her heels because in a way they were. Behind her was despair and bleakness, before her, however small and fleeting, was hope. Holding her skirts up she flew past servant and guard, many no doubt gaping after her. She thought of nothing but him. She did not care who saw her. Or them.

The Lady Trepe reached the gates just as they opened. She tried to catch her breath as the shadows of two riders filled her vision. One large, the other slight. Each hoofbeat was an eternity. When they finally stepped into the torchlight what she saw made her heart leap. Red and white. The emblem of the Fire Cross. 

Seifer riding tall astride his horse. 

Or, at least that was how it appeared, at first. As his horse moved closer, she realized her knight was not the only rider. Astride the horse behind Seifer, was a man she recognized as one of his men-at-arms. A tall, swarthy giant with black hair. It was the giant’s hands that held reins of the horse. The fairer man seemed to sway from side to side, held in place only by his retainer’s large arms. Her heart beat furiously as he came more and more into focus. 

The tunic he wore over his armor was torn almost to shreds. Several pieces of his armor were missing and what remained showed very obvious signs of battle. Broken chain alongside dented plate. Her heart seized when she saw several arrows sticking out of his breast plate. Her breath stopped when she discovered her love’s eyes were closed. A large bloody bandage was wrapped around his head, a line of blood going from his temple to his jaw. The large retainer yelled, causing several of guards and servants to run forward to help remove the injured knight from the horse.

They lower led him to the cobblestones as best they could, trying to be gentle. Quistis charged in as soon as they managed to get him on his back. She pushed the men aside to kneel beside her knight. She pulled his head into her lap, stroking his cheek.

“Sir Almasy. Sir Almasy!” She called out, pleadingly. No response. He was barely breathing.

Seifer’s two retainers knelt beside him across from her. The swarthy giant and the other, smaller man. A strange creature. All thin limbs and sinew, with an eyepatch over his right eye, almost hidden behind a mop of silver-white hair. A face delicate, almost girl-like, if not for all the scarring. Both wore a look of despair that mirrored her own. Tears flowed out of her eyes to travel down her cheek. They fell from her jaw to drop onto his face. After the third one, he stirred. His eyes fluttered open and found hers. He smiled.

“I dreamt off you…” He whispered, the pain in his voice evident but also a hint of joy. “I dreamt I saw you…just beyond my reach…”

He reached up to caress her cheek weakly. She grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly to her face. They all saw it, the guards, the servants, this unfettered affection. She did not care. Let society and decorum burn if it kept her from feeling his warmth at such a time.

“There you are…” He smiled at her weakly.

“I’m here, Seifer. I’m here.” More tears fell from her eyes.

Her tear blurred eyes ran over his body. So much blood stained his armor. She wondered how much of it was his. The armor on his left arm was far more intact than his right and that is where she found it. An orange ribbon. Her orange ribbon. Wrapped around his arm, stained with grime but intact.

Her favor.

Seifer had promised to return it to her.

“You kept your promise.” She smiled at him. His eyes fluttered closed. Her heart flew into her throat. “Seifer?”

No response.

“Seifer!”

Still nothing. His hand went limp in hers.

“No! No, please!” She cried. 

Quistis prayed with his hand in hers. She prayed to any god that would listen. She prayed that these would not be the last words shared between them.

Chapter 3: Mine

“You are going to re-open your wounds!”

Seifer looked up from his position on the floor. Lady Quistis Trepe regarded him with annoyance from her place in the threshold to his private room, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. He finished his latest push-up and stood to his full height, the sweat on his body causing the breeze coming through the open door to make him shudder involuntarily. Or maybe it was the way his blonde caretaker was looking at him. The anger mixed with concern burning in those beautiful blue eyes was enough to set his soul on fire. Everything else felt frigid compared to that burning look.

She wore a simple light blue kirtle and her hair was stuffed in white wimble stained with grime and blood at its edges. She looked like a common serving girl. She also looked like a goddess come down from heaven to stand before him. It was all he could to not fall to his knees and worship her in all the ways she deserved.

Another castle servant passing by behind his most ardent love kept him in place. Frustration boiled within him at the fact that he could not do what he wanted with her, to her, because he was a lowly knight and she the daughter of one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. Were their secret uncovered, it would mean shame for her and possible death for him. He would gladly lay down his life for what they shared but he would not leave behind a world where she would be forced to live with a shame for daring to take something for herself, for shirking duty in favor of the two of them. He would cut them all down if he could for daring to impede on their feelings.

Their love.

He had not brought the subject to bear with her yet, but he knew where his heart lay. It was in her hands, freely given, so many months ago. By that stream during the hunt before the harvest. Though, with the virtue of honesty, it was in her hands from the moment she first spoke to him. Now, a fall and winter spent in her family’s halls passed them by. Cold, dreary months, and not just because of the weather. Too many eyes followed their every movement. They could barely sneak off to steal a private word or kiss in the hidden shadows of the halls.

The times when they could simply sit and chat were shining, warm treasures he would keep in his mind forever. A particular talk came to mind. A snow-covered courtyard, waiting for armor to be repaired at the smithy. Lady Quistis sitting across from him, her beautiful mouth smiling, her cheeks red from the cold. He never thought he could become so enamored in a conversation about apples. If only it could have lasted forever.

The distance, however, not matter how small, felt like a great chasm torn in the earth between them. To be forced to act like polite strangers, to not sweep her into his arms or take her mouth into his when the blood and heart demanded it, was torture of the highest order. He knew she felt for him as he felt for her, but those words were not yet said to each other yet.

What fools they were.

Seifer’s brush with death put many things into perspective. He was not afraid of death. He was afraid of dying before he said those words to her, before he could let his voice bring those feelings into the world for her to hear and solidify in her own heart. To say something was to make it real. It was why some monks and holy people took vows of silence. Kept their “impure’ thoughts from manifesting into reality by way of their voice. But there was nothing impure about what the two of them shared, whatever society would say of them. Let the gods hear them. If they found offense in their feelings, he would turn his sword on them too.

But first, he would need to reassure his lover of his strength.

“The worst wound is on my head.” He pressed a finger to his forehead above his left brow, near the hairline. A line of stitches went from the end of his eyebrow to just above his ear, tearing a gash into his hair.

The battle flashed before his eyes. The bridge, a barrier he and his retinue held to give Lord Trepe time to escape. A dazing blow from a warhammer that bent his visor. The rest was a blur. A dagger flashed, Seifer bled and the bastard that had tried ending him falling into the water below, broken spear shaft lodged in his neck.

“You were fortunate.” She said, mouth tight. Her words brought him back to the present. “Many a man have be laid low by such wounds.”

“I am most fortunate to be especially hard headed.” Seifer laughed reassuringly in her direction, taking in the sight of her lips bending down into a frown. He wanted to shut the door. Give them the privacy for her to be attended to like she deserved. And she deserved much. He did not know how much longer he would be capable of not giving her what was rightfully hers. “And the rest are but scratches that are healing easily. Observe, dear lady!”

Seifer let himself pivot forward, falling to floor in a perfect arc, savoring her little gasp right before catching himself with his hands. He bent his arms, bringing his chest to the floor as low as he could without touching it, giving his flustering lady a smirk before pushing himself forcefully up. The momentum from his ascent gave him time to move his left arm behind his back whilst his right took on all of his weight. He bent down and pushed back up on his one arm three times before switching arms, repeating the action another three times, making sure to maintain eye contact throughout. Her frown remained in place but it was a struggle for her given how much her mouth twitched. Her cheeks had also gained a very pretty pink coloring.

Sure his mortality was no longer on her mind, the knight pushed himself to his feet and stood before her, arms out to either side.

“Do you see, my lady?” He smirked at her, enjoying the color in her cheeks intensifying. She must have been truly impressed with his show of strength and stamina. Or it could be the fact that he had done it all in just his braies, the rest of him bare. Whatever the reason, the way her throat moved as she swallowed was absolutely captivating. “I am well and strong, even after a week abed!”

She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she held it. She held it for quite a while, perhaps in an attempt to control herself, keep from jumping at him. That wonderful thought gave his pride more kindling to burn, swelling his chest. He could not help but watch the jaw muscles on her face tense or admire the way her slender fingers curled around her skirts. He had seen less tension in a bow string pulled taut. But then the arrow was loosed and she returned to her usual composure. All stately and regal. Beautiful. By the very gods, there was never going to be a state in which she could be and he would not desire her.

“What you are, dear knight, is rancid.” She sniffled, her face twisting in disgust. Even this quickened his blood. The way her nose scrunched was particularly adorable. “The servants complain of the smell coming from this room. I have come to take you for a bath.”

Seifer’s smirk fell. He crossed his arms and lowered his head to the crook of his arm, where it met his chest. The quick sniff he took did indeed confirm his lady’s assessment of his aroma. A week in bed, recovering from injuries had done terrible things to his sense of smell if it took Quistis drawing attention to it for him to notice. With a grimacing face, he nodded. But when he made for the door, her hand flew up to stop him.

“You will need a shirt.” She pointed to a corner of the room where his discarded clothes lay.

“Truly? Is the bathing chamber so far away?” Seifer complained. “I could walk as I am.”

“You would walk so brazenly through the halls?” Her face was aghast yet there was a flash of something else twinkling in her eyes. He decided to push a little more.

“The main hall has a statue in much the same manner of dress as I. Less so I believe.” The knight teased, watching that unknown twinkle solidify into a shine of something dangerous. “Perhaps the people of the castle would appreciate a piece of art walking around.”

A pair of serving girls walking by in the hall behind Quistis stopped and gawked. They giggled and at that sound his lady love whirled around, hands on her hips.

“Do you not have duties to attend?” Her voice was surprisingly harsh. Quistis was a patient and kind mistress to her servants, to have her act like this was unusual. “Do not gawk like animals!”

The girls bowed their heads and curtsied before rushing out of sight. When Quistis turned around, Seifer noticed a bit of bitterness mixed in with the anger. He knew what that shine was.

“No need for jealousy, my lady.” He informed her sweetly. He picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head. “If you wish to keep my…artistry to yourself, who am I to deny you?”

She tried, truly tried, to keep her face stone but the cracks showed anyway. She could not decide on a smile or a sneer and her hands would not sit still. His chest puffed even more at the fact that only he could see her so flustered, so vulnerable. And he understood her reservations. If any other tried to have with her what they shared, he would no doubt kill that person. Maim them at least.

“Follow.” She commanded, leaving the room. Seifer nodded and did as he was told.

The young knight followed some two paces behind. A respectable distance, people would call it. He called it aggravating. The wimble she wore left the back of her neck to the air. Exposed. Vulnerable. A pair of fingers could very easily make a slow, deliberate journey from the back of her head down to her shoulders. He wondered what noises she would make at that. What sensual songs she would sing for him?

His cock stirred in his braies and he quickly, though not easily, struck the thoughts from his mind. It would be rude to walk around, following a noble lady at that, with his lance couched and ready for the charge. He let breath out of his nose. Truthfully, the damn thing tried to stand at attention near every time he so much as glanced at her. Not that he could blame his lance. His eyes fell to her hips, where her kirtle clung with particular snugness. Her very distracting behind noticeably swayed from side to side with each step, it captured his eyes with its rhythmic movements. His overeager cock moved again, like an ill-trained dog at the sight of food. He looked away from his lady now, unable to trust himself or his licentious mind.

They walked through the gardens, beyond them he saw courtyard, where armored men milled about. He watched them adjust armor and sharpen weapons. There were near fifty of them and he knew several thousand more camped outside the walls. Lord Trepe was to move his army north by the end of the week.

The borderlands were now officially part of the Palmecian Empire. Marquis Vossler and all his lords had declared loyalty to the Emperor Mateus. Complete betrayal. The king was apoplectic. Vossler had been a loyal subject for years, a stout comrade-in-arms and once, a trusted friend to his Majesty. All cast aside in the name of ambition.

But Vossler ambitions could be used to further his. His Highness, in his efforts to spur the lords of his realm to muster quickly, promised the lands and titles of all the lords that betrayed the kingdom as prizes. The northern territories were vast and numerous. Vossler’s title was of Marquis but his holdings and power were more of that of a Duke. His armies were fierce and well trained, knight’s and soldier’s veterans of many border skirmishes with the empire. He had strength enough to challenge any lord in the kingdom, but not enough to challenge the king. By himself. Yet, with the Empire at his back, it was unknown how far he would sweep south before he could be stopped. A disquieting thought.

Yet the shadow of war hid the light of opportunity, one just needed the eyes to find it. Seifer had Lord Trepe’s favor, nearly three times over. If he could distinguish himself in the war, titles and lands could be granted to him, especially if Lord Trepe petitioned on his behalf. The only person the king had trusted more than Vossler was Earl Adelbert Trepe. He alone was trusted as Marshal in the war against the traitors. It could work. His dream, a thing that seemed more and more a fantasy with each passing day, could become something of substance. Solid.

Real.

The knight needed to be part of the army that marched north, to hell with any lingering injuries. He turned back to Quistis. Should he win glory in this war, his true dream could come true. The titles, the accolades, the lands, the prestige. All of it stepping stones on the road to what he really wanted. To what he carved into that tree by the stream. He never believed in magic but maybe something like it was aiding him. Perhaps the god’s had begun to favor him.

Would she?

All he had to do was ask.

They stopped in front of the door to the bathing chamber. Quistis undid the latch, pushing it open with a grunt and they stepped inside. Three large windows sat high on the back wall, letting in the sun. It was near as bright in the room as outside. A large wooden tub sat in the middle of the room, steam from warm water rising out of it. A near half dozen more sat the side, empty. A small bench sat next to the bathtub; some white linen sheets folded at one end and a small bucket with a bar of what he assumed was soap at the other. A smell like flowers and herbs filled the space.

“Remove your clothes.” Lady Quistis Trepe commanded. Sir Seifer’s eyes widened briefly. He turned to the noble lady. A teasing smirk stretched across his face.

“So brazen, my lady.” He chuckled.

“They smell as bad as you.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. “They need to be washed. Though I dare say even our washer women will be hard pressed to remove the odor.”

“Such harsh words.” Seifer grumbled. He pulled the shirt up, over his head and handed it to Quistis.

He went for the laces on his braies but stopped suddenly. He looked up at his lady. Her face was impassive, as if she were looking at the sky and not a man about to be naked before her.

“You will not turn around?” He asked softly. “Or leave the room?”

Her mouth tightened slightly. She stared at him with those stunning cerulean orbs for a moment or two and in them, he felt it. The fire, so long smothered, beginning to burn again between them. He watched her lift her chin the barest amount, the quiet pride that defined her straightening her shoulders.

“No.”

It was barely a whisper but a bolt of lightning splitting a tree would not echo in his ears as loudly. Seifer stood to his full height, working the laces without looking at them. Instead, his focus was entirely on her face, on her mouth, her eyes. On every feature. Once the laces came undone, he let his undergarments fall to his feet. Two quick steps and a swift kick and they were away. He stood before her, naked.

She swallowed, the lump particularly big considering how much she worked to force it down. Despite her best attempts to school her features into a mask of neutrality, she could not fully hide her awe. Her hunger. Her tongue traveled across her lips as her eyes traveled across him and Seifer wondered if she was even aware of the action. Her eyes met his, perhaps trying to steady herself. Both of their breaths quickened at the energy that passed between the windows to their souls.

A tremor coursed through her. Somehow, her eyes tore away from his. She looked down, drinking him in greedily, as if she were dying of thirst. Her mouth was a thin line but air pushed out her nose like the bellows at a blacksmith. Part of him wanted to swim in her obvious admiration but another wondered if he, all of him, was to her liking. When her eyes finally fell below his waste, he braced himself. Moment of truth.

“You are…” Quistis’ face shined red as she stared. And stared. And stared more. Seifer noticed her jaw was as tight as a steel trap. She would break her teeth before long.

“My lady?” He probed gently, trying to ease her out of her mind. She near struck the ceiling with how high she jumped.

“Formidable!” She blurted as she brought a white knuckled fist over heart as her eyes flew back to his. “You are quite…formidable.”

“High praise, my lady.” Seifer felt lighter, held aloft by her adoration. 

The reality of their situation suddenly brought him back down the ground, stone underneath his bare feet, where he stood, naked and alone, with the woman he held above all else. It was his turn to swallow. He did not have long to think about it because his love’s hand shot up to press her fingers to his chest. He glanced down at it. He felt her shaking in the brief seconds she remained there. Then, as if she were afraid he would bite, she pulled her limb back, fingers curling into her palm.

“I need to get these to the wash.” She flew to the side, avoiding his eyes as she lifted his discarded undergarments from the floor. “Use the bucket to wash off the worst of the grime before soaking in the tub.”

Seifer stared, dumb founded, as she moved and continued to rattle instructions.

“There are herbs and medicine to ease your muscles and clean your wounds in the tub but they will work best with clean skin and open pores.” She explained as she made for the door, not even sparing him a glance. Seifer reached out for her but she was too fast. “Clean yourself then soak. And be careful with the stitches in your head! I’ll return later with new clothes.”

Before the knight could respond, she was out the door, the outside deadbolt sliding into place announcing the end of that conversation. He blinked at the door. A sigh escaped him, his shoulders lowering slightly. Nothing for it. If his lady wasn’t ready, he would wait. He would wait however long it took.

Walking over to the bench, he grabbed the bar of soap and stuck it into the water of the bucket. He winced slightly at the heat that met him, though it had more to do with the fact he suddenly felt a chill clawing at his skin. He looked at his arms. His skin was a field of goosebumps. The air of the chamber struck like snow in winter.

How long had he been cold?

Seifer smirked. Hard to focus on anything besides her when she was in the room. She could tear the lungs from his chest and all he would pay attention to would be her eyes. 

He sat down on the bench. A channel was set into the stone floor right behind it, a drain for all the water. It ran the entire width of the room, slightly angled, into a grate at the base of the west most wall. The soap stung as it passed over the many scrapes and bruises that dotted his skin but the pain was nothing compared the feeling of the layer of grime and sweat falling away from him. He worked thoroughly but carefully. His arms first, then his chest and stomach. He dunked a smaller rag into the bucket and squeezed the it over his back, letting the warm water cascade down his muscles. He dunked it again and let the water drench his head and hair. He grit his teeth at the burning from his stitches. 

Soon, there wasn’t a spot on him that hadn’t been attended to. From the top of his head to his toes he was covered in subs. He hoisted the bucket over his head and let the its contents spill over him as he stood in the draining channel. With a satisfied growl, Seifer tussled his hair, creating a shower of droplets. He took a larger rag and dried his hair as best he could. He took special care to dry the stitched wound. Quistis and the healers told him to keep it dry so it wouldn’t fester. Once done, he used the cloth the dry the rest of himself. Once dry as he could be, he stepped over to the tub.

Steam still rose from it along with a strong aroma that was somehow relaxing. Leaves and petals floated on the surface. At the far end of the tub, on the rim, sat a thick folded piece of strung wool. A makeshift pillow. He smiled at it. He let out a contented sigh as he lowered himself into the hot water, resting the back of his head on the wool. His muscles began to loosen almost immediately. He let his eyes drift shut and simply enjoyed the heat. He didn’t know how long he was supposed to soak in the medicinal concoction but at this moment, he could stay forever.

Half-sleep fell over him, reality and dreams blurring together in his mind. He was vaguely aware of a noise near the door to the bathing chamber but he could not tell if it was real. He didn’t care regardless. He slipped further into bliss.

That bliss was interrupted by fresh water being poured into the tub. His eyes burst open. Standing to his left was Lady Quistis Trepe, empty bucket in hand, wearing nothing but her chemise. Her hair was in a braid the wrapped around her head. She looked down at him stoically. His eyes followed her as she stepped back and deposited the container on the floor. He lifted himself to his knees as she reached for the hem of the skirt of her undergarment. He stared, enamored, transfixed, fucking obsessed as she pulled it up, revealing her legs. His breath froze as she pulled the clothing over her head. His heart stopped as she cast it aside and stood before him, completely bare.

If he knew the entirety of every language in the world, he still would not have enough words to describe her beauty. 

Even perfect was too weak, too narrow in scope, to even begin to fathom a fraction of her.

Quistis fidgeted under his gaze, growing red in the face to such an extent that it bled onto the skin of her shoulders. She took a step toward him, rigid and awkward, her arms straight as arrows at her side. His lips parted in a gasp as she came closer and then, without the slightest shred of hesitation, she stepped into the tub. She stood, water near to her knees, before him. She glowed almost ethereal in the light pouring in from the windows.

“Oh, please let me be awake.” He begged as he reached up to press his palm against her stomach. She tensed then relaxed as his fingertips slide down her abdomen, across her navel before they traveled to the side to feel the curve of her hip. 

Her hand stopped his from going lower.

He looked up, fear running roughshod through his mind. She pulled his hand away from her and he believed for the briefest of moments that he had gone too far, too boldly, too quickly. When she twisted his hand so his palm faced up and lowered herself to the water to kiss it, all the fear went away. Her gentle, soft lips upon him made him shiver. An angel giving her blessing.

“Sit back.” She demanded in a whisper. Not one to question the proclamations of divinity, the young knight leaned back, his head resting on the folding wool again. His eyes never left her.

She lowered herself more fully into the water, leaving only her head and neck exposed, much to his dissatisfaction. She twisted as she approached him, so that the back of her head and shoulders greeted his shoulder. She shifted his left arm underneath the water then settled in the space between it and his chest, skin to skin, body to body, head resting on his chest. Her hand settled over his heart; near the same spot she touched before. For a while, Seifer simply breathed, tried to confirm that he was still among the living and not passed into paradise by way of falling asleep and drowning in the bath. When it was confirmed he still lived, he looked down at the woman that he shared the water with. She looked up at him, near in the same state of shock as he. Pushing past the torpor that had settled over his body, the blond man wrapped his arm around her, resting his hand on her shoulder. He pulled her close. He thought he heard a gasp over the blood hammering in his ears.

Quistis felt so right against him. More than any other time in his life, he felt…complete. Whole, as if something he never knew was missing had been located and returned to him. He remembered a story the priests would tell. Of how, long ago, souls were split in two. The pieces would long to reunite. Some would. Others searched for their other half forever.

“I have found you.” 

“Seifer?” His name on her lips was a sweet, sweet melody. He took the hand at his chest into his own. Pulling it up gently, he pressed his lips to her knuckles. She shuddered against him.

“The stories the priests told us as children.” He explained, a soft smile on his face as he ran his thumb over her fingers. “How our souls are merely halves of a greater whole.’

He looked at her with absolute certainty. She looked at him in astonishment.

“I think I found the other half of mine.” He declared before lowering his lips to hers.

It was a gentle thing at first, a soft touch of lips. But the pull, the absolute need, for their two spirits to be combined transformed it almost instantly. She pushed herself up against him, he pulled her closer. Every want, every desire they had been suppressing for months came out in the kiss. They barely stopped to breathe. Again and again their lips touched. Reverently. Hungrily. Her taste became as air to him. He would die without it. He never wanted it to end.

But end it did. Quistis pushed on his chest and parted them. Seifer could only stare in worry as her face took on a parlor of fear. She took in a deep breath, shutting her eyes fiercely. His heart beat wildly against his ribcage. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but at that moment her eyes flew open and conviction hardened her features.

“Marry me.”

Seifer’s lungs froze in his chest. It wasn’t a question. Both of them knew what lay in the other’s heart. 

“You are sure?” Perhaps humility bade him to ask that question. A humility he did not think capable of before meeting her. But if she had done one thing very well, and she had done many, it was humble him with her love. It was too good to be true but he prayed to all the gods that it was.

“Yes. I have been. Since that day by the stream.” Her confession filled his heart near to bursting. Which made the descent of her eyes from his and the sadness twisting her features all the more painful to witness. “You mean to join my father in this war.”

Again, she did not ask. Again, both of them knew the answer. He would fight for this dream they shared. A romantic dream that perhaps could come true. He squeezed her hand. He knew what needed to be done. At least one part of that dream would be made manifest today.

“Come with me.” He ordered, pulling at her hand as he stood. She followed without question, though uncertainty burned in her eyes. 

The knight walked his lady to the far wall, where they stood under the windows. They were set into the wall high above their heads, so all bathing could have light and privacy. No one would see them. She blinked up at him in confusion as they stood naked, water dripping off of them onto the floor. He pulled both her hands into his and kissed them quickly. With a wink, he strode over the bench by the tub and took the last of the white sheets sitting there. When he returned to his flummoxed love, he unfolded the sheet and threw it over her head.

Utter bewilderment took over her features as he pulled the sheet back to reveal her face. He made sure it sat just so, covering her hair and letting the rest fall over her shoulders and body. Her hands wrapped around the ends of the linen even as her brows scrunched together as she tried to understand what was transpiring. He simply smiled at her.

“What are you doing?” She asked in exasperation, a nervous laugh escaping her throat.

“A bride is to wear a veil at her wedding. It’s tradition.” He answered simply, putting his hand to her face. Her lips parted as her eyes widened. 

“Here?” She gaped.

“Now.” He nodded.

His bride stood in open mouthed shock. His smile did not falter. When the first tear fell, he knew she believed him.

The first was joined by many others, falling from her eyes, her joy ran freely across her features. Her chin dropped to her chest. A sniffle echoed off the walls.

“Now.” She echoed.

With the gentlest of touches, he placed his fingers under her chin and with equal care, he lifted her face so he could look her in the eyes. He expected to stutter. To stumble over his words as he tried to create an oath from whole cloth. Yet, when he spoke, all came to him quickly and without blemish. As if the words were waiting, hidden in his soul all along.

“I swear, before all the gods, the sky, in the light of this day, that I am yours. Until my final breath and beyond it. I give you my heart. I give you my soul…dear wife.”

The face she made at his soft whisper of her new title was resplendent. She looked at him with eyes full of such yearning, such affection, such love burning in them, he could barely look at it for fear of going blind from the light. But look he did, all of it a gift for him that he would cherish until his death and beyond. When he died, his soul would bear the mark she seared into it this day.

“I swear…” She began quietly. “…before all the gods, the whole of the world, across all eternity, I am yours. My heart, my soul, all that I have I give to you…my husband.”

As one, they leaned toward each other. Lips met, love and fire flowing between them, as if their souls were finally allowed to touch. Their bodies, naked and cleansed, pressed together, arms entwined. She felt amazing against him, especially the swell of her breast against his chest. When it was over, he pressed his forehead to hers. They laughed together joyfully.

“We’ll need a priest to make it official.” Quistis murmured. The cold water of reality poured down on their mutual flame. It did not snuff it but was still an unwelcome guest.

“A tall order.” Seifer sighed. “It would be near impossible to find one sympathetic to our cause. And even if one were, who would risk your father’s wrath?”

Quistis’ face scrunched in concentration in a most appealing way. Seifer wanted to admire it but having known her so intimately for so long now, he knew that face meant trouble. Or an end to someone or something.

“Father Cyan.” She offered after a moment of thought, a most wicked smile on her face. 

“The castle’s head priest?” His head reared back in shock, even as he admired the plotting stretch across her lips. “Why?”

“Because, dear husband…” Her eyes glanced to the side as she chewed on her lip. He struck near dumb by how she said his new title and from the way her teeth worked her lips. His blood stirred. “The widow Lola has been making frequent visits to the priests room. Late at night. The castle maids say the candle in his window burns bright near til morning during those visits.”

A ruinous observation. That would end the reputation of any man but a priest that was meant to guide the moral wellbeing of his community would see himself cast out of the holy order. Life ended without violence by sharp eyes and waggling tongues.

“Never shall I make an enemy of a gossip circle.” He chuckled, truly enjoying watching her mind work. Oh, and it worked wonders.

“If I were to suggest that the bishop need not hear of his…indiscretions…” Her index finger tapped her lips, her eyes shining with mischief. “I’m sure he could be persuaded to perform us a favor.” 

Enjoyment turned to disquiet, and no small amount of arousal, at her thorough machinations.

“I shall endeavor to never upset you, beloved wife.” Quistis’ eyes shot to his at the uttering of the word ‘wife.’ Giddiness displaced mischief in her eyes. The wickedness melted from her lips, replaced by shyness. It amazed him how two very disparate aspects lived in her with such harmony.

Then his cock moved, drawing him away from his wonderings and back into reality. Where they stood alone, naked, save for his wife’s ‘wedding veil’, in a room cut off from the rest of the world. Her breathing became labored as she glanced down. He watched her step back, his arms still around her, the cloth on her shoulders shifting with her. His hardened manhood greeted her. Like before, she stared, though not as long this time. When she looked up at him, he ground his teeth. Quistis was absolutely suffused with desire.

“Take me, Seifer.” She pleaded, lust permeating her speech. “Please, I have waited so long. I burn, I burn so much I may di—“

Seifer took hold of her face, barreling forward with his mouth. They crashed together, no more gentleness, no restraint. Just unshackled need consuming the both of them. He growled into her mouth, a hand at the small of her back pulling her closer to him, her nipples rigid against his skin. That made her moan gutturally. He used the opening to push his tongue into her mouth. She took it greedily into herself, wrapping her arms around his neck. She tasted amazing, every second they spent dueling with their tongues just made her want her more. He could spend the rest of his life trying to satiate himself with her yet it would never be enough. A life well spent, in his mind.

But there was still so much of her to taste.

He pulled away from her, smirking at her confusion. Then he lowered his head to her breast, taking her nipple into his mouth. The sharp, pleased cry she let loose made him smile into her skin. She arced towards him, pushing up on her toes to make it easier for him to play with her hardened nub. His tongue rolled over her nipple, making long, deliberate circles around it. Her hand fisted into the hair on the back of his head, dragging him further into her bosom. He continued, his efforts doubling. He sucked, he flicked with his tongue, he grazed with his teeth. He looked up at her as he worked in time to see her throw her head back and the makeshift veil fall from her head. He moved to her other breast, giving the same love and care as its twin.

His left his lady’s nipples, swollen and wet with his care, to begin a trail of kisses down the center of her. Each kiss was a prayer. Slow, methodical, reverent. She tasted of flowers and herbs from the bath but there were hints of her behind it all. Seifer fell to his knees fully in front of her, his prayers taking him to her stomach, his hands at the curves of her hips. Her own hands were over his, slender fingers squeezing at every touch.

A quick run of his tongue around the inside of her navel elicited such a squeak from his most dignified wife, that it was all he could do not to laugh. He pulled her to the side, carefully resting her back against the stone wall. He gave her one last kiss between her navel and the patch of hair that covered her sex. When he looked up at her again, he found wide, excited eyes. She breathed as if she had just been drowning. Did she know what he was going to?

If she did, he had to make sure he performed well. The were expectations to uphold.

His fingers located her right ankle, the tips floating up her skin towards the knee. Goosebumps erupted wherever he touched. That made him grin wider. When his hand finally found her knee, he took hold of it firmly and pulled her leg up, letting it bend. He put it over his shoulder, in a way that it sat slightly to the side, all so that her glorious, dripping sex faced him more openly. His right hand on her thigh to keep it in place and his left went her hip to keep her steady. Once she was properly settled, he leaned forward.

Through the lingering aroma of the bath, he smelled her. His mouth instantly watered at her scent. He tasted and smelled her on his fingers before. Now he was about partake of that most holy ambrosia straight from the source. He lolled his tongue out and took his first lick. He started at the bottom of her entrance, flattening the whole of his tongue against her before dragging it up. Her reaction was immediate and intense. The moan that tore its way out of her throat was desperate and primal, a wild thing of unfettered desire. She ground her womanhood against his face as he moved, one hand braced against the wall, the other on his head, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair.

It was better than remembered, her taste. So rich and flavorful. Seifer dived in again for more, the journey slightly faster this time but it the song she sang was no less quiet, no less wanton. On his third visit to her swollen nether lips, he attended to her clit. He found it with his tongue and give it three quick, light flicks with the tip of it. She near collapsed, only his strong arms keeping her upright. If he kept doing that she would shatter in no time.

But where was the fun in that?

Seifer wanted to keep seeing her like, hearing her like this. Lost in desire and pleasure. A beautiful goddess of instinct and want. A divine light only he could see. So, he continued playing with her, his tongue darting in and out her to lap up more of her delicious juices. Attending the her most sensitive bud then simply breathing on it and watching her unravel, a plea and promise of death in her eyes as she looked down at him for that. That made his cock as hard as rock and he worried that he would release all over the stones if she kept looking at him like that. So, in his heart of hearts, he decided it was time to bring her to the climax of her pleasure. The knight attacked her clit savagely, with his tongue and his lips. He felt her legs shake against him and her hips began to move along with the rhythm of his attack. When she came, it was beautiful.

Quistis arced against him, holding his head in place as she thrust her hips forward. Her mouth was open in a silent cry for so long, he worried that she had truly forgotten how to breathe, even as his own life was threatened by her drowning him in her drenched sex. Finally, a staggering gasp escaped her as she sagged against him and the wall, looking nothing like a noble lady and looking very much like a satisfied creature of lustful desires. His succubus. No, even better. His wife.

A soft kiss on her lower lips made her sigh happily. His chest would soon no longer have any more place for his growing pride.

“I dreamt of this.” She sighed breathlessly.

“Oh?” He placed his cheek on her thigh, grinning up at her.

“Of you.” She explained, running her knuckles down the side of his face. He closed his eyes briefly to savor the feeling. “Doing this to me.”

“You have a most…” He paused as his eyes opened to look into hers. “…fervent imagination.”

“Women talk. Married women most of all.” She retorted. “I dare say I know more than you about lovemaking with all they have told me.”

“I believe it.” He kissed her thigh. “I am a new acolyte in the worship of you. Teach me, Quistis.”

“Truly?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, her fingers stroking his hair. “Forgive me, husband, I have known few men as prideful as you. To hear you say such is…unexpected.”

“My pride is nothing before you.” He said as if meaning to carve his words into stone. “I wish to please you, always. For that, I must listen and learn. Why else would I marry you?”

Her eyes widened then softened, tears pooling at the edges. Her smile was like a sunrise.

“Seifer…” 

“Now, I must know…” He looked at her playfully. “Was I better than my dream doppelgänger?”

“It does not even compare.” She laughed, long and loud, taking his face into her hands. “Stand and kiss me so that I know this is no dream.”

Obedience was never his strongest suit but it came easy with her. He stood, took his wife into his arms and kissed her. Their tongues met briefly again, another duel that ended more quickly than the last. When it was over, Quistis ran her finger over his swollen lips.

“I taste good on you.”

“You are delicious, my love.” He confirmed, a sultry rumble in his voice..

“Come, my heart.” She took him by the hand and walked him over the where the sheet that was used as her veil lay. She smiled at him. “Our wedding bed.”

“Such versatility for a piece of linen.” Seifer grumbled. He wanted better for her, in this sacred moment. “If only we had a real bed.”

“I prefer this to a bedding ceremony.” Quistis’ hands took hold of his arm. “This moment is meant for us and not for all the court to leer and laugh.”

“When we have a proper wedding ceremony, I will be sure to bring my sword.” He muttered darkly. “Let them laugh and leer with no eyes and no tongues.”

“Spare my family.”

“Only if they stay in the hall.”

They laughed together, a harmony of comfort and ease. As it ended, Quistis pulled him down towards the sheet cover stone, he followed gladly. He helped her ease herself onto her back then kneeled between her legs. His aching cock twitched at her, ready to commence its duty but the sight of her, lying there before him in all her naked glory, stopped him. An angel descended from heaven and she had given herself to him. He crawled over her and planted the gentlest of kisses on her lips.

“I love you, Quistis.” Finally, he had done it. The words were out. Real.

Tears welled in her eyes again as she smiled a quivering smile at him. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself up. He held her with one arm, the heat of her warming him completely.

“I love you, Seifer.” She whispered into his ear.

With the utmost care, the knight eased her back to their ‘bed.’ Shifting lower, he took his swollen girth in hand, pressing its head against her entrance. Her shivering, yearning sigh filled the air, making his member twitch in his hand but he held it still. Seifer looked at Quistis, searching her eyes. They found his gladly, full of longing and acceptance. With a little nod, she gave him everything. With the easiest, of smiles, he accepted her.

Slowly, he pushed into her, his girth beginning to stretch her wide. He let out a savage sound when the head of his cock became enveloped by her. Tight, wet heaven threatened to consume him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, eyes closed as she let breath after shaking breath. Further and further he pushed, his breath coming out through gritted teeth, his overwhelming need to be inside her fully held back by his greater need to not hurt her. Her nails dug into his flesh as he filled her with himself. She began to grit her teeth, and that made him worry.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, stopping his movement.

“No, beloved, I just feel…very full.” She managed in between deep breaths. He could not help the smirk that grew on his face. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He kissed her softly, taking time to stroke her cheek then continued. The rest of his manhood slid into her, the wetness from her tongue induced orgasm absolutely soaking him. Seifer lifted himself and looked down to where they were joined, marveling at the sight of being one with her. He looked up at her face to see if she held similar amazement and then he fell in love again. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted as she tried to breathe in between whimpering moans. She was lost in the feeling of him as he was in her. He pulled out of her slowly, only part way, and thrust back into her gently. A louder, more solid moan came out of her.

The knight started slow but even that made him growl and rumble like a damned animal. She was like wet silk wrapped around his cock. Every instinct in his fucking being was demanding he pound into her like hammer drives a nail into wood. But he would not treat his wife so savagely. Not yet. He would take as much time as she needed to adjust to him. She had trusted him with herself in this act and he would not abuse that trust. His next thrust was faster, deeper than the last, pulling out further before joining their hips again. Each movement brought more beautiful songs from her, lustful tunes of pleasure of which he would never tire.

His thrusts became faster, cock pulling out of her more as he set a steady pace. He joined his own song of debased music to hers, creating a harmony of sensuality. Quistis’ moved her hips, raising her legs over his back and wrapping them around it. He was able to go deeper into her, the tightness afforded by the change in position necessitating a quick stop on his part.

“My love?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sea of desire in her blue orbs but her brows knit in concern.

“You feel amazing.” He managed between gasps. He leaned down to kiss her then pressed his forehead to hers. “Too amazing. I feared it would be over soon.”

“Then rest a while.” She kissed his nose. Her hands made trips across the muscles of his arms and back. “Just the feeling of having you in me is divine.”

He captured her mouth in his, tongue charging in like battering ram. She laughed against his mouth and took his face into her hands, meeting his passion with her own. They lay there like that, joined together in the most intimate of ways, tongues dancing, for a time. Oh, if it could only last forever but soon, his beloved wife became impatient. Her hips sway, tenderly at first, as if she were trying to find the most pleasurable motion or angle. Little sighs floated into his mouth. It changed into more of a grind as she went on, gaining confidence and understanding of what she enjoyed. Sharp gasps echoed around his tongue then. Though Seifer did not move himself, he groaned at her swaying. His head fell to her neck where he began licking and kissing her skin most enthusiastically, wanting to add to her pleasure. Her hand flew to the back of his head, where she buried her fingers into his hair with a happy gasp.

All of it set his blood alight. He reared his hips back and slammed into her. He watched her face, completely lost in the way her mouth opened in a desperate moan. She pulled him into a hungry kiss, seemingly trying to devour him. Her other hand fell to his rump, fingers grasping it firmly and pushing it down.

“Again!” She demanded against his lips. “Do not stop.”

His shackles thus removed, Seifer obeyed his lady.

Rapid, powerful thrusts slammed into her. His unchained lust dashing all other thought from his mind. The only thing that remained was the sensation of her on him as they moved together. Each one of his thrusts was met with one of her own. When he reared back, so did she, the pair crashing into each other savagely at every meeting. It was fucking bliss. She was bliss. To have her, naked, beneath him, her tongue in his mouth and her moans in his ear was everything. Existence became the two of them. Nothing else mattered.

Seifer felt her legs begin to shake. Her kisses became more intense. Her other hand went from his head to join its sibling at his arse. Each collision began to be followed by her grinding herself against him. He pivoted his own hips to help her. He was rewarded by the most divine of sights.

“I’m…I’m…oh gods, I’m…”

She never finished her sentence. It was buried by several choking gasps as she shattered against him. The gasps gave way to satisfied moans as she continued to wildly push herself against him.

“Seifer!” She cried out as the pleasure rocked through her.

The sound of his name, called out with such wanton need, ended him.

With a locked jaw, he held back as long as he could but the torrent could not be held back. His seed erupted from the tip of his cock, the pulses stopping all coherent thought.

“Quistis!” He called out as he loosed himself inside her, his hips moving in a series of weak thrusts before collapsing on top of her, somehow managing to brace himself up of his elbows in order to avoid crushing her to the stone floor.

The bathing chamber was filled with sounds of their hurried breaths trying to refill their lungs. Quistis’ hands slid up from his hips to take hold of his shoulders, pulling him towards her. He obliged her silent request, lowering himself to her so their chest touched. Her breast still felt amazing squeezed against him. All of her was amazing. And now their union was complete. Consummated. They were truly husband and wife in all but the law. Though, if his dear wife’s plan bore fruit, that would be a thing of the past before long. After that, all that would remain is convincing her parents without losing his head.

A simple enough task.

A problem for the future. The now was all that mattered. Seifer kissed his wife. It was long and full of yearning. She returned his affections, sighing happily. When they pulled apart, he could not help but grin at her like a reckless youth.

“What?” Quistis giggled, a new blush settling on her face.

“I am admiring my wife.” He kissed her again. “She is a thing of divine beauty. A sunrise made human. A gentle summer breeze given form. She is all that is good in this world.”

“That…” She swallowed, her face burning red as she tried to maintain some dignity. She did not succeed. “…is very romantic.”

“May I never be anything less to you.” He stroked her face; she leaned into his hand. “Now, I do believe we need another bath.”

“Quite.” She laughed. No other melody would every compare.

Seifer pulled his softened penis out of her with a quiet moan, pushing himself to his knees. He admired her as she lay sprawled on the sheet, looking up at him with love filled eyes. His seed dribbled out of her and onto the sheet. To think she had granted him this, to see her like this, to share herself with him for the rest of their lives. Nothing on earth or heaven could compare. He stood and offered her his hand; she took it without reservation.

“We will need to wash the sheet to rid it of the evidence of…us.” His lady observed.

“Later.” He pulled her into his arms. “I want to think of nothing now except the feel of your skin on mine.”

When they stepped into the tub, the water was still warm. They could not remember if it ever went cold.

 

Chapter 4: Siege

It was quiet in their shared bedchamber. The light of dawn just beginning to stream through the windows onto the bed. His heart beat like a hammer on an anvil, strong and loud through the muscles of his back. Quistis smiled in contentment, her face pressed against his shoulder blades, arms wrapped around his waist. One window was open, letting in a cooling breeze. She felt the air move, but there was no change in temperature. The heat of his naked body against hers was too strong to be overcome by such a weak wind.

By all the gods, she would never tire of waking like this.

The space between her legs was sore yet it still ached for him. Her exposed skin was rife evidence of his attention but she craved more. More of his adoration. More of his worship. To be the object of his desires was to be seen and cared for. So many times, during the night, when their skin and limbs moved so sensually against one another did he stop to simply stare. Stare with eyes that saw through her, into her. Her soul laid exposed before him and all she found in those eyes were love and affection. He had seen her at her most bare and base and he had accepted her, all of her. No other could be her husband. 

“…you need to let go.” He whispered, bringing her back into reality. She made a disapproving noise into his back, closing her eyes to the sunlight penetrating into their space.

“The sun has not yet fully risen.” She whined, her lips moving against his shoulder muscles. A sense of self-satisfaction rolled through as she felt him shiver. He was hers to play with, always. “You are still mine.”

“I am yours, always.” He declared softly but firmly. She loved the way his voice could be both heavy as stone and light as feather at near the same time. It was her turn to shiver. “No matter the time or height of the sun.”

Quistis knew that. She knew that as she knew that the sun must rise, the tide must recede and that the seasons must change. All truths of their world along with the truth of them. Gods above, she wanted him again. Wanted to feel him between her legs, inside her. Hot breath on her neck. Soft lips tasting her, savoring her. If only to stem the inevitable. Tears pooled into her eyes.

“Yet, you are leaving.” Quistis wept. “I wish it were not so.”

“I will return.” Seifer said with such conviction, that she was sure the very gods believed him. She wanted to as well but that specter of disaster and death hung over her thoughts. A parasite that sucked out all the joy his promise might have otherwise allowed her mind to swim in. The world was cruel to love. “As a lord, fit to be your husband.”

Her teeth clenched behind her lips. To hell with titles. To hell with propriety. To hell with everything that would try to tear them apart to appease some rule or tradition. Anger boiled inside of her.

“You are fit now.” She seethed. None could be more worthy.

His hand, strong and rough with callouses, took hold of hers as gently as he would hold aloft a flower.

“Quistis…” His voice was a smooth as a cooling balm. Her anger did not abate.

“Father Cyan married us. Mother was a witness!” She hissed even as the warmth of that memory flooded into her. The castle chapel aglow with candlelight. Her mother, standing by the priest, an approving smile on her face. It was that night that she learned her parents had married against the wishes of their respective families. Now, she would continue that legacy. “You do not have to—!”

Quistis’ angry words were replaced by a startled squeak. Her husband had whirled around to pull her into his arms, depositing her unto his lap. Any other protest was silenced by a gentle kiss on her lips. Despite all of her worry and apprehension, she melted into him. When the kiss was over, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I know your fear.” He appeased quietly. Her lips pursed. “You will not be a widow.”

“We have all we need.” She begged uselessly. She knew he would not be swayed. Seifer was all fire and determination. Yet, she tried. Her hand was at his chest, fingers gliding to his heart. She wanted to remember the feel of it. Sting, steady.

“Now.” His head moved back, his green eyes hardening slighty. “Would your father ignore such an insult? Let me stay here with my head attached?”

“I am a woman grown who made her own choice.” Her anger boiled inside her again. This was not her father’s choice to make. The kingdom and the people of it may say so, demand she bow her head and let duty guide her life but she would never be convinced to take back her decision. She was no game piece in a game of politics. “Not some prized horse you stole.”

“No, you are no prize.” His voice was steel, her rage was mirrored across his face. He stared at the window, perhaps cursing the world outside. She lost herself in his beautiful eyes, watching the fire behind them burn. They softened as his gaze met hers. A blush crept up her neck at the intensity of it. “You are everything.”

“Seifer…” Yes. Him. This wonderful man that would give her the world or die trying. She didn’t want the world, however. She wanted him. What could be said to her knight to make him understand that?

“You have given me everything.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter. She let her cheek fall to his chest. “It is my turn to provide something for you.”

“A bride price?” The Lady noted bitterly.

“A future.” Her handsome knight insisted. “Where the world dares not foist shame upon you. Where you and I walk, hand in hand, heads held high.”

The bitterness in her fell away. He wanted to be with her openly. In the sun of day rather in the shadows of night, hidden like something shameful. He did not want to war with the world; he wanted their love to be a thing of peace. For both of them. A smile found its way to her face. This man of war, wanted to build her a garden where their love could be nurtured and made to grow. He would til the soil with unsure hands to give life to this spark of hope that burned between them.

It was not fair. How he made her fall in love with him over and over again.

Dawn finally came. The light casting away their shared dream and leaving them sitting in the real world. He would leave soon. To go to war. For how long only the gods knew. Would it be months? Years? Or would this be the last time they ever saw each?

Quistis smiled to herself. She would leave him with a very pleasant memory, at least.

“Then allow me to give one last gift before you leave.” She wiggled out of his grasp, sliding to the floor where she knelt between his legs. He looked both intrigued and confused. Soon, he would not be able to think.

The lady took hold of her knight’s sword. Her sword now, as he had sworn it to her. She looked up him, her tongue wetting her lips. She began to stroke his limp manhood, feeling it grow in her hand. Her husband had a mighty sword indeed. Long, thick, it filled her up so well. The space between her legs burned with fresh want, the memories of his cock stretching her insides making her fire erupt again, heat spreading all over quickly. Between her legs most of all. But she would ignore it for now. This was about him.

“What are yo—?” He managed to groan out.

“Sit back.” She demanded, free hand pushing against his waist.

Her obedient knight did as he was told. He was fully erect now, the skin stretching tight across his considerable length. Her fingers slid down the entirety of him, eliciting such wonderful sounds from his throat. She did it again, taking time to enjoy the way he sang for her. Yet, for all the sounds he was capable of making, and she was determined to hear them all, his face was the apex of her work.

The cracks were beginning to show. His face twisted as her hands pulled down on his girth. He would break entirely with her next course of action.

Quistis stuck her tongue out and licked the head of his cock, from the base of it to the tip. He almost immediately threw his head back and let out a gasp. The fire inside her burned out of control when his head came back down. He looked so helpless. So fragile. The giant man of blood and violence was hers to do with what she wanted.

And she wanted him to whimper.

It was one of the washer women. An older woman with grey streaked black hair named Bela, that granted her the knowledge of how to reduce her man into a quivering mess under her complete control. Said her husband sometimes had trouble standing at attention. That this was a guaranteed way to bring a man to proper readiness.

Quistis did not want to ready Seifer. She wanted to end him.

She licked him again. She started low this time, where his girth met the rest of his body. She drag her tongue up slowly, sensually. Her eyes were on his the entire time, savoring the helpless need that flooded them. When she reached the head of his cock, her tongue ran a circle around it. The staggered cry he let out made her own desires flare desperately. Her free hand went to her swollen lower lips, caressing herself gently as her mighty warrior crumbled before her.

Again, she made the journey with her tongue, tasting his skin of his shaft. He tasted earthy and clean. They had bathed each other after their night of passion the previous evening. Her mother’s maid’s now aiding them in their discretion, providing bathwater and exchanging sheets. He was as rigid as stone. She may as well have been licking marble if not from the warmth pouring off of it. All of it proof of his desire. His enjoyment too.

A bead of clear fluid pooled at the tip of the head of his penis. An indicator that his body was preparing for release. She smiled, they had just started and he was already so close. She looked up at him was a prideful smile. He looked down at her, lost in want, the restraint clear on the taut skin of his face, neck and shoulders. He looked like a wild animal held back by a chain. A chain she held.

Pride transformed into something wicked on her lips. Her tongue ran across them, his eyes followed every move devotedly. Quistis took him into her hands, he felt even harder than he did against her tongue. Her fingers wrapped around just below the head. She kissed it there, at the end of the tip, lapping the proof of his arousal as she did. It was featherlight, the kiss, but the way his head flew back and how he hissed into the air through clenched teeth it was as if he was struck by an arrow. Bela had told her it could be sensitive to such touches but this was something else.

The Lady needed to see more. Break him more. She slipped her fingers into herself, letting out a low moan against him. Another sound broke out of him, a raw, ragged groan. Almost defiant, like he was fighting against all the pleasure she was giving him.

She would show him resistance was futile.

Her tongue made the journey up his member once more. When she reached the tip, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth. He made a sharp sound then nothing at all. She looked up. His face was twisted, eyes squeezed almost shut. His mouth was pulled back into something like a snarl, teeth clenching and unclenching as he seemed to struggle to remember how to breathe. The heat between her legs grew, her fingers starting to work her clit in a steady rhythm. Her mouth was only around the head so far but she would change that soon. She just wanted to burn that look on his face, of almost pained need contorting his beautiful features, in the forefront of her memories. After a moment more of admiring her handiwork, her lips moved down.

“Q-Quistis!” He cried out in such a helpless voice.

Yes. Her. She was doing that to him. Turning him into her pliable servant. She may have been giving him the pleasure but he was completely under her control. He would cry out her name with the deep, gorgeous voice over and over again at her demand. She plunged him in as far as she could, the tip of him almost hitting her throat but she could not get all of him. A not insignificant portion remained beyond the reach of her mouth. Not the worst problem to have. Quistis moved back up, her lips never leaving him on her ascent. She descended once more, the trip made slightly easier by her saliva making the surface of him slick. He breathed in strained gasps and sharp hisses, her name a chant he sang most reverently.

She recalled the last bit of advice Bela gave her. When next her lips found the tip of his cock, she wrapped her hand around the head, squeezing firmly. On the descent, her hand led the way, pulling the skin of his shaft down tight, her lips following it down.

“By all the gods…” He groaned. That made her stop. She pulled her head away from him to glare into his eyes.

“No.” She quietly proclaimed. “Not the gods. Me.”

Seifer’s eyes widened at her words. Hers did not change, just kept him frozen in place. He broke first, nodded slightly in understanding. She smiled up at him. He knew. His new faith was her. Quistis stood above the gods in Seifer’s eyes and heart now. Her smile returned, pride swelling her chest. She redoubled her efforts, her lips and fingers working his cock more quickly, more savagely than before. His lustful songs echoing off the walls. His moans and heavy breaths making her own pleasure increase, her fingers working furiously against herself. She felt the first pulses of her own orgasm just as he broke completely.

“Fuck…I’m Quistis, I—!” He did not finish his sentence but he was finished. His seed burst out of his cock, thick and warm. She drank it down greedily, continuing to move up and down his cock as it pulsed inside her mouth.

Seifer twisted his body and face as if a lightning bolt was coursing through him. His mouth tried to make sounds but only succeeded in moving his lips silently. It was beautiful to witness, this crumbling marble becoming dust in her hands.

As the last of him spurted onto her tongue, her own climax struck her fully. Pulling her fingers away from herself, she took hold of his thigh to steady herself as her own pulses of pleasure rocked through her. The room filled with the two of them simple trying to catch their breaths. Seifer flopped back onto the bed, out of her sight.

“Did that please you?” She laughed as she rose of her knees. She laid her head on his stomach. His hand found her head, stroking her hair.

“Near killed me…” He confessed with a laugh. He twisted his head to look at her, a smirk fresh on his face. “You learned this from one of your ladies?”

“Why do ask?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering at his line of thought.

“So, when you and I take charge of our new home, we can request her service.” He chuckled, taking hold of her arms. He helped her onto the bed. She took her designated spot at his side, with her head on his chest. “I wish to see what else she can teach you.”

They laughed together.

“I will think on it.” She offered, starting to make a small circle on his chest with her index finger.

“Excellent.” He kissed her on the top of her head. Quistis felt the warmth of the sun settling on her face. She looked out the window as day pushed into their room. Seifer’s voice hardened. “The sun greets us.”

“Then you must go to war, my husband.” She stood, her hand clutching his as she rose, pulling him up. Her husband followed without hesitation.

“I go towards our shared destiny.” His arms found their way around her waist from behind. His head nestled on her shoulder. Her hand went to his cheek as they stared out the window. “The war is but the road I must take.”

She prayed it be a road that led back to her as well. 

******

The memory faded and Seifer allowed himself a small smile.

The knight sat in camp outside the walls of the town surrounding the Castle Baron. The outer walls had been taken with relative ease, Earl Adelbert Trepe’s reputation as a master of war well earned. The main army still camped outside the walls. A token force occupying the town in order to hold it and minimize any abuses the soldiers might inflict on the town. The lord believed the people had been forced to go along with plans of their traitorous lords and as such should be spared from any retaliation. He also wanted the fortress as usable as possible to prevent any counter attack.

The siege stalled after that. The castle loomed over everything, its walls twice the height of the town walls. A mighty river ran at its back and the town surrounded the front and two sides, so all approaches were difficult if not outright impossible. Scaling the walls was the quickest option but that would come at a terrible cost of life. And there was no guarantee of victory either even with a garrison only a few hundred strong. Fifteen thousand men waited to storm the inner walls but they had no way good way in.

Lord Trepe’s survival had thrown the plans of the enemy into disarray but they only had so much time to capitalize on the advantage. The siege had to end quickly and decisively.

“Seifer Fucking Almasy!”

His name called out so crudely yet with such fondness pulled Seifer out of his thoughts of war and logistics. Another knight approached him, long chestnut hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, blue eyes shining even in the dull tones of an overcast day. Seifer remembered that grin. It hid both cowardice and heart as genuine as he had ever known.

“Sir Irvine Kinneas.” Pushing a stray lock of blond hair out of his eyes, Seifer stood, clasping the forearm of his old friend. They had squired under the lord Joseph together for years.

“Too long, dear friend.” Irvine pulled him into a one-armed hug, clapping on his back as their chest collided. Seifer grunted as the air was pushed out of his lungs by the blows.  “How is service with the Earl Trepe?”

“Good.” Seifer coughed as he tore himself out of Irvine’s grasp. The young man was always so free with his affections. Seifer ran his fingertips over the scar that ran from the end of his left eyebrow to the top of his ear. “Dangerous.”

“I have heard!” Irvine barked out a laugh. “Rumor is you are the reason we have a Marshal at all.”

“The rumors are true.” Seifer said seriously, crossing his arms over his chest. Had Lord Trepe died, the council would have spent weeks, perhaps months, trying to fill in the position of Marshal. A delay the enemy would have made full use of. A scattered army was a dead army.

“Good to see your service has humbled you.” His friend teased, a crooked grin on his face, head shaking in bemused disbelief. “You will have a county by the end of this.”

“That is my ambition.” Seifer announced, his brow lowering. “I will have a title by the end of the war.”

“Truly?” Irvine chuckled at first, his hands on his hips but it stopped when their gazes locked. The mirth on his face went away, though the smile remained. Both it and his eyes gained a pensiveness that made Seifer’s jaw flex. His friend had a way with reading people. Always knew who to trust and who to keep at arm’s length. “…Truly.”

“What?” Seifer demanded, the way those blue eyes looked at him making the young man shift his weight as a tension settled over his muscles.

“I believe you.” He stated simply. His green eyes blinked, trying to read Irvine’s blue ones. There was no jest in them, no mockery. He was not making fun of him or his ambitions. That fact straightened his shoulders.

“Then you are wise.” Seifer replied.

“Ha! Enough of politics. The siege will last long enough to discuss all that.” Irvine sat down by the fire, waving him down. Seifer joined his friend on the log. “How are your adventures with the fairer sex?”

“Nowhere near yours.” Seifer rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He picked up a discarded stick and poked at the burning wood. He looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. “As you are no doubt want to tell me.”

“You wound me.” Irvine whined in a joking tone, his hand on his chest. “You will be happy to know I am married.”

“You?” That made the blond man turn toward the other knight fully, jaw hanging towards the ground. “Have taken a wife?”

“Indeed.” Irvine preened, his nose upturned. “A lady Selphie Tilmitt.”

“She must be iron and fire to tame you.” Seifer imagined the type of woman that could have managed to wrestle Irvine Kinneas into the bounds of holy matrimony. All he could imagine was a giant, wild woman with a club cracking him over the head and dragging him into the woods. He had to force the laughter back.

“She is the sun. She is spring.” Irvine sighed wistfully, his gaze going soft. A smile stretched across face, one that Seifer was not sure he was even aware of. He could not help but grin at his enamored friend as he continued. “She is…all of the energy of life itself.”

“You are in love.” Seifer’s grin grew.

“Am I so obvious?” Irvine sighed, looking up at the grey skies. Seifer was sure he could see the sun even if no one else could, feel it’s warmth on his skin.

“It is a good thing.” Seifer punched Irvine’s arm lightly before returning his eyes to the fire.

“It is.” He heard the brown-haired man say. They sat in silence as the embers cracked until Irvine broke it. “And you? What of your escapades?”

Seifer shook his head, thoughts immediately going to his wife. Two months had passed since leaving her behind. The heat from her touch and the taste of her becoming dull shadows in the back of his mind.

The knight reached for his arm, where a silk ribbon, her favor, was wrapped around his bicep. She had perfumed it. Every night during the first weeks of the campaign was spent with the silk threaded through his fingers pressed to his nose, breathing in her sweet smell. He liked to imagine her sleeping next to him in his tent, her head resting on his chest, her mouth molded into a contented smile. But the smell had faded from it now. He always wore it whenever he donned his armor, and there was rarely a day he did not have to. The harshness of the march, with all the blood, mud, smoke and shit destroyed all beautiful things eventually. Still, he kissed the favor every day, once at daybreak and again before falling asleep, hoping it would be felt by her.

He wondered how long they would be apart.

Two months of marching and battling had led to some progress but not as much as Seifer had hoped. The first true battle of the war ended in victory for the kingdom, though truth be told it was more of a skirmish. The army vanguard encountering a detachment of Vossler’s men and saw them off. Still, a traitor noble had been slain in the melee, brought down by the Young Lion himself. Seifer had fought alongside the heir to the Trepe lands, forcing surrender from an enemy knight. His first prize of the war. The man’s horse was impressive, his equipment fine.

Yet, his true ambition, a life with Quistis, was so far away. 

Momentum had stalled and now he sat and waited. Much like Irvine sat and waited for the answer to his question.

“There are none.” Seifer told his friend. It was not a lie. His marriage was not an escapade. It was the rest of his life.

“For true?” Seifer could feel the pity from Irvine’s eyes striking the side of his head. He decided against punching him in the face. “Nothing since Margery?”

Nothing with Margery and nothing until Quistis.

In their first week of marriage, Seifer and Quistis had each other more times than he could count. All of it aided greatly by his new mother-in-law, a far more understanding and underhanded woman than he would have thought possible. Quistis was definitely an apple that did not fall from that particular tree. Lady Beatrix ran her house well. Only a few of her most trusted servants knew, the rest aiding the couple without even knowing. The relationship was under lock and key.  He could not say all of that, of course. Not to Irvine. If he became privy to the secret, the Emperor would know by morning. Best to give him some other truth to gnaw on.

“…I never bedded her.” Seifer admitted. The scoff he got in response was as loud as it was overly dramatic.

“Your comrades pool their coin to buy you one of the most desirable courtesans in the Kingdom…and you never touched her.” He turned to Irvine, a look of detachment meeting his friend’s disbelief.

The memory of that night floated in front of his eyes. Fresh from battle and his knighting ceremony. A well-furnished room with fine rugs and tapestries. A bed with red sheets. The woman with red hair, green eyes and a beautiful face that sat on it. Her amused smile pointed at him.

“I did not wish to pay for love.” Seifer told him.

“Ever the romantic.” Irvine shook his head, confusion knitting his brows together. “And I shall remind you, you did not pay. What did you do?”

“I asked her advice.” Seifer answered truthfully. Margery was a brilliant woman, well-read and witty. And very helpful with certain, sensitive matters not usually discussed openly. “About pleasing women.”

“You could have asked me.” Irvine offered, pressing his hand to his chest. A smug smile found its way to his face. “I do have plenty of practice in that regard.”

“I believe in listening to women in matters of…women.” Confusion returned to Irvine’s face. Seifer estimated his simple use of common sense was not so common among men. He wept for all the wives that had to deal with inept and dismissive husbands.

“Fair enough…” Irvine’s face took on that pensiveness again, as if Seifer had given him some new philosophical insight to ponder for the rest of his life instead of the most obvious fucking thing in the world. He sat in contemplation for far too long before his eyebrow rose and his eyes turned him again. “What did you learn?”

Many things. Of love, of pleasure. Of how little he truly knew of both. They spoke of philosophy and of politics. The most important thing Margery taught him was that knowledge and wisdom could come from the most unexpected of places. She had killed much of his ignorance. He would always be grateful for that. He doubted Irvine had the patience for all that, especially secondhand from a man that could at best remember fragments of it all. Best to stick with the lewd yet helpful wisdom Margery had bestowed upon him.

“Have you ever eaten pussy?” It was Seifer’s turn to scandalize and perhaps, save Lady Selphie from her husband’s lack of knowledge.

Irvine rear back as if struck. Seifer smirked, relishing the splatter of red growing on his friend’s cheek. Irvine had told him of the proper way to use his hands on a woman. Now, it was his turn to repay that kindness.

“…you mean…my mouth on…her…?” The brown-haired knight stammered.

“Try it.” Seifer looked towards the fire once more. He tossed in another log. “I’m sure your wife will love it.”

“Have you?” Irvine asked quietly.

“I have feasted well.” The memories flooded his mind. The taste and smell mere shadows of what they once were but his mouth still watered. He craved her like his lungs craved air.

“I must…try.” Irvine pondered a moment before taking hold of his shoulder. “So, you have bedded a woman since the courtesan?”

It was at that moment the reason Seifer was sitting at this particular fire among the plethora of other available ones walked by. Lord Trepe stalked into his tent, followed closely by his son. The young knight steeled himself, it was now or never.

“I must away.” He announced, standing quickly. He looked down at Sir Irvine. “Be ready. Tonight, we take the castle.”

“How do you know that?” Irvine eyes narrowed, not in confusion but in concentration. No doubt trying to comprehend how such a thing would be possible. Seifer smirked.

“Because my wife is very impatient and I must return to her soon.”

******

“Sir Seifer. Welcome.”

The tent flap fell closed behind Seifer, cutting him off from the outside world. Burning braziers stood on either side of a large table that held a miniature model of the castle the army was besieging. Adelbert Trepe stared at it like he wanted to set it on fire, lips tight and brow furrowed. He braced his hands against the top of the table, eyes darting this way and that as if some secret could be found in the wooden copy of their goal. As he had done many times before.

His retinue flitted about. Scribes, servants, guards moving about with purpose, like a nest of bees, though he felt the unspoken tension in the air. There were at least a dozen of them in the large tent. The blood that kept the brain of the this endeavor alive and focused on the task at hand. And a mighty task it was.

The siege was entering its third week. Not a surprise, Alexander Castle was built to withstand an army near twice the size of theirs. It was meant to withstand the Empire, hold the line while the kingdom mustered its forces to meet the invasion. Now Imperial troops patrolled its walls along with traitors to their liege. One of the greatest fortresses in the land, given over without so much as a harsh word.

But Seifer would take it back.

“My lords.” Seifer bowed his head. First to Lord Trepe and then to Lord Squall. Squall stood at his father’s side, his stoic face glancing between the castle and the maps of the locale strewn about the table.

“You had something to discuss about the siege?” Lord Trepe allowed himself to look up at Seifer, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I do.” Seifer stepped forward until he stood against the table, on the side opposite his two Lords. “I can deliver the castle to you.”

“Bold claim.” Squall looked at him now, his tone even, face betraying nothing.

“And true.” Seifer retorted, the grip on the pommel of his sword tightening. The Young Lion and he would never be true friends but there was something like understanding between them. He would relish the chance to see him in the dirt however. Their joust had been declared a draw and they had yet to find each other in the lists again.

“Their walls are high and strong.” Squall mirrored Seifer’s stance, sticking his chest out. His eyes narrowed. “How will you topple them?”

“…I cannot say.” Seifer frowned, looking down at the table.

“Why?” Lord Trepe’s voice rumbled through the tent, curious but cautious.

“I wish to ask a boon. Two, in fact.” Seifer began, turning back to his lord. “I fear my plan to take the castle is the only thing that will allow me to heard.”

A very heavy silence fell upon them all. Seifer felt the weight of it on his shoulders but he did not bend, if anything, he stood straighter. Lord Trepe’s face was stone, an older, more rugged version of his son. The only difference being in the coloring of the men. Blond instead of brunette, blue eyes instead of grey.

“Speak.” Trepe’s command cut through the air like a sword through flesh. Alright then, time to get to the meat of it.

“I wish your aid in petitioning the king in granting titles and lands to me.” Seifer near breathed a sigh of relief when his request came out of his mouth without him stumbling through the words.

“You wish to become a count?” Lord Trepe chuckled. “Many do, Sir Seifer. Why should I put forth your petition over others?”

“Because I will hand the castle to you by dawn.” The young knight said simply. The chuckling stopped.

“Your plan will work that quickly?” Lord Trepe rubbed his chin, fingers running through the blond and grey hairs of his beard.

“It will.” Seifer assured, leaning forward, his hands on the table. “The siege will be won tonight. The traitors expect the siege to go on for months. The fact that you are still alive, my lord, threw many of their plans into disarray, a quick victory here will put them into a panicked rout. We take the castle and then sweep through half of the Marquis’s lands before he could even be able to react.”

Lord Trepe picked up one of the maps near his hand, studying it for a time. There was subtle movement to his brows, lowering and rising slightly several times. He was working out the logistics, Seifer knew.

“How will you deliver the castle to us?” Squall asked sternly.

“I cannot say.” Seifer stated tensely.

“Why the secrecy?” Lord Trepe pulled himself out of his thoughts and stared directly at Seifer, something beginning to burn behind his eyes.

“These next words are meant only for you and your son, my lord.” Seifer announced and put his hands behind his back.

Both father and son considered him stoically for a time. Sweat began to bead around his forehead when they turned to each other and nodded.

“Out.” Ordered Lord Trepe.

The servants, scribes and guards all bowed, obeying swiftly. Seifer appreciated their efficiency. Less time to stew. The faster he got this over with, the better.

“The second boon I ask of you…I wish your blessing…” Now that the actual words were spoken, crystallized into reality, the young knight briefly carried the thought that they would be his last. He cast it aside however. He would not hide from what they had done. “…for my marriage to Lady Quistis.”

Seifer felt the atmosphere shift immediately. Like a great storm about erupt in the confines of the tent. Lord Trepe’s lips disappeared into a thin line while brows met over his nose. Seifer was sure he was shaking slightly. His Lord understood.

“You…” The word fell from Lord Trepe’s mouth like molten metal. It it had been a physical thing, it would have no doubt burned a hole through the ground.

“Yes.” Seifer did not back down, instead planting his feet as he met the torrent of rage pouring out of Adelbert Trepe’s eyes. “She is my wife by laws of gods and men.”

“You bastard!” Squall erupted, slamming his fist onto the war table so hard, several pieces of the model castle fell on their sides. Seifer’s surprise was twofold. First at the volume, he had never heard Lord Squall raise his voice when outside of battle. Second, was the amount of emotion on the young man’s face. Anger, worry and disgust mixing onto his face in such a way that Seifer was sure the muscles on his face would collapse from exhaustion. The blond man had long suspected the Young Lion had been taken as child and replaced with a changeling. Now, it seemed he was human after all. “I should cut you down for seducing my sister!”

Squall reached for his sword, but his father’s hand, and rumbling laugher, stopped him in his tracks. The Young Lion looked at the patriarch of his family is utter disbelief.

“Enough, Squall.” Lord Trepe commanded.

“Father!” Squall yelled in frustration. Though he stood in place, the young lord’s hand was still on his sword.

“You think your sister a fainting little girl?” The older man scoffed, narrowing his eyes at his son. Squall lip twitched but he let go of his sword. His father shook his head and turned to Seifer with a measuring look. “I have no doubt this was her idea.”

“She asked me, my lord.” Seifer confessed, his eyes meeting his lord’s.

“And you dare not refuse her of course…” Lord Trepe grumbled. Some other words escaped him, one of which Seifer was sure was ‘Beatrix.’

“Only a fool would refuse her.” The young knight insisted, puffing out his chest even more. He would not take a step back, not even for his lord, in matters of his and Quistis’ shared hearts.

“You do understand the only reason your head still sits on your shoulders is because my son and I owe you our lives?” The bearded man pointed out. There was no malice or anger in his voice. He asked it like he was discussing a favorite saddle or cloak.

“I do.” Seifer clenched his jaw.

“Reckless. Stupid. Ludicrous.” Anger now bled into his lord’s words. He paced at the length of the table.

“I am not stupid for marrying her.” Seifer wondered if he was pushing too much, being overbold but he could not stop. Marrying Quistis was the best decision of his life. He would have it seen no other way. “Even under torture, I will never say that.”

“Damnation.” Lord Trepe swore loudly but much of the tension left his shoulders. He turned his back on Seifer for several moments. Once whatever his lord struggled with ended, he turned around and pointed at finger at Seifer. “You will get me that castle.”

“Yes.” The only truer statement would be Seifer’s declaration of devotion to Lady Quistis Trepe.

“What must I do?” Lord Trepe demanded and relief washed over the young knight. He would leave the tent alive and with a blessing to end the siege.

“Muster the army tonight.” Seifer explained, swallowing down a lump in his throat. The reality of the task before him solidified. It was time to forge his fate. “I will cast a fire from atop the gatehouse. The gate will be open for you to charge through.”

“Do it.” His lord nodded.  “Do not fail.”

“I will not.” Seifer assured.

“Good.” Adelbert Trepe crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I do not wish to bring news of your death to my daughter.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Seifer bowed, teeth tight. That was as close to a blessing as he would receive under the circumstances. A small miracle in and of itself.

“I do this for Quistis, not for you.” His lord explained. The young knight raised his head. He did not blink or cower, just looked his father-in-law in the eye.

“As do I.”

 

Notes:

This thing became so big I split it in two.

Please enjoy.

Chapter 5: Duty

If never he did this again, it would be too soon. Life was a mire of shit sometimes, everyone had to wade through it at some point in their life.

Sir Seifer Almasy just never thought his ordeal would be so literal. The smell alone would have probably killed a lesser man but he persevered.

Taking a castle by way of crawling up the garderobe would be a first for him, probably for the Kingdom as well. A dangerous climb in total darkness with slippery, shit-caked walls. More than once his foot slipped, only his grip on the rope keeping him from plunging to an odious death. If he failed, he would at least live in infamy for the audacity of such an attack.

The privy chute was built into the back of the keep, where it faced the river. It was built high up on the wall, the bottom of it near thirty feet above the ground. Almost no chance of climbing up to it without a ladder or tools. There wasn’t much ground at the back of the castle to carry such equipment anyway. The river the castle’s northern walls faced was as wide as it was deep. No chance of getting any decent number of men onto this side, so the patrols were minimal, as proven by Seifer’s scout’s days of observation. The same scout that had lowered the rope he was climbing.

His men, as the world saw them, were the most loyal retainers a person could ever hope for.

They were in fact a man and a woman. Fujin, the silver-haired woman that all thought a small man due to her scarring and the gravely voice, which itself was the result of a throat injury, had managed to climb up the wall and into the chute. His woman-at-arms was all sinew and fluid grace; she moved with the surety of a spider. Nothing but the strength of her fingers and the barest unevenness in the stone allowing her to climb. It was she that secured the rope they climbed.

His other, Raijin, was her opposite in near everything. Swarthy and loud. A giant of a man with the strength of a bear and the disposition of a rabbit. He was often the target of Fujin’s ire. Which she meted out via swift kicks to the shin. The large man had been the first up the rope, to test its strength.

Seifer could scour the world and he would not find any more worthy of the title of friends. It was a comfort as he pulled himself up the rope, bouncing off the crap encrusted walls.

Minutes felt like hours in the shit chute but eventually a light shone in the darkness. A small ball of candlelight marked the end of his climb. The wooden seat of the privy had been pulled off, allowing the blond man to climb over the edge and fall to the straw covered floor. Raijin and Fujin looked down at him.

“EMPTY.” Fujin commented as she moved to the door and pulled it open, her head and shoulders moving to and fro. Talking was painful for her, so most of her speech consisted of single words, spat out harshly. Though she had only one good eye, it was still strong, with knack for detail.

Seifer breathed then winced. The smell was clinging to him. He rolled to his feet and stood behind Fujin looking past the door. Beyond the threshold was an empty hallway, walls covered in tapestries, with candles burning on stands. The knight went over the castle design in his head. The castle was one of the oldest in the kingdom, its layout provided by the king’s own archivist. Seifer had memorized the layout of the fortress so they knew which way to go.

“The gate house is not far.” He assured them.

They stood in the main keep. The Castle Baron was built with a focus on the northern side. It had always been expected that any attack would be from a foreign power, specifically from the Empire to the north. A great stone bridge allowed passage across the river and it was this structure the castle was build to protect. It even had a small fort at the other bank of the river. The Mist River cut though most of the Northern Territory. A violent, capricious thing, the bridge and the castle stood by the part of the river that was the least wild. One of few spots that could be crossed safely. It was the door to the north and south of the Kingdom and center for trade. If Lord Trepe could recapture it, the war would be contained to Vossler’s lands.

“SMELL.” Fujin complained.

“Just say we’re on latrine duty.” Seifer suggested, stepping into the hallway. The latrine chute faced north, so they needed to turn right.

“STAB?” Fujin asked when followed him out of the chamber. She pulled a dagger out of a sheath on a belt that hung across her chest diagonally. One of half a dozen. Several more were strapped to various parts of her body.

They were all lightly equipped. Gambesons for armor and daggers for weapons. As little weight as possible had been needed to make the climb as well as smaller weapons so nothing ended up stuck. Not ideal for a straight fight but more than adequate for sneaking and killing quietly.

“If they ask too many questions.” He smirked at her. She nodded, barest hint of a smile.

“Where to, m’lord?” Raijin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Come.” Seifer pointed to the right. “This way.”

Fujin served as vanguard, Raijin the rear and Seifer in between.

Most of the castle seemed to be asleep. They moved as quickly as stealth allowed. The courtyard was the destination. The walls and towers would be more heavily guarded, every eye on the town and the lands beyond the parapets. The would be less inclined to look inward. They were as far from the gate as could be but the shadows along the walls would hide their approach. Hopefully.

Thankfully, the hall led to the stairs to one of the towers at the corner of the keep.

Fujin went first. Shr indicated for them to stay in place. While he and Raijin could be quiet when the need arose, his woman-at-arms was a quick as the wind and could practically melt into the shadows. So Seifer nodded and waited. She returned before long and bid them follow. The descent was quick and ended at a door that led to another candlelit hallway. They looked to still be in the keep. The hallway led in only one direction, so Fujin bade them forward. It eventually split in two, the path going left or right. Seifer racked his brain to recall more details.

The were on the ground floor. They had just exited the western most tower. That meant the great hall was to their left.

“Right.” He whispered and his retainers obeyed.

A corner came up quickly, leading to the left. This hallway was long, probably the length of the keep, which meant the group would be next to the courtyard once they got to the end of it. Halfway to their goal. Still, quiet was needed. Doors lined the walls. The smell of food hung in the air. They were near the kitchens and the larder. Probably locked for the night to keep wandering hands from pilfering extra food. In a siege, everything needed to be rationed. There was little in the way of cover or hiding spaces, so necessity added haste to their feet. They bunched at the corner once they reached the end of it. Fujin stuck her one good eye out.

“TWO.” She whispered.

Seifer snuck a look into the next hallway. A pair of guards were heading in their direction, lantern in hand. They would have to be dealt with. He tapped Fujin on the shoulder making her turn to him. He dragged his thumb across his neck and pulled out his dagger. The silver haired woman nodded and crouched low. They waited, listening to the footsteps approach until they were almost upon them.

“Fuck, the last patrol take a shit somewhere?” A low voice asked.

“Wouldn’t put it past Andrews. That fucker barely washes.” Another voice, slightly higher, answered. Their last words.

Fujin burst out first, Seifer followed. She went for the guard further back, running low and launching herself up, dagger pointed. In two seconds, she had the blade driven through the underside of the man’s jaw and into his gullet. She caught the lantern he held as it dropped from limp fingers dropped. The second guard gapped for those two seconds in which his comrade was killed. A fatal mistake. Seifer clamped a hand over his mouth and drove his dagger right into his eye. A sound tried to escape his mouth, something between a gurgle and a scream but Seifer’s held firm, muffling it. He went slack after a moment, falling into Seifer arms.

“Check for keys.” Seifer order as he gently set the body down. One crisis averted. How many more they would have to deal with, he did not know.

Fujin produced a set of keys from the belt of her guard.

“See if they work on the doors in the hall.” He commanded. “We’ll have to hide the bodies.”

She was gone in a flash. Raijin picked up both bodies and hauled them onto his shoulders. Seifer took their swords and helms. They would strip them and take their equipment; it would be less conspicuous than running around in their fetid gambesons. As they entered back into the kitchen halls, Fujin waved them over. The keys had worked. The chamber was a pantry. The bodies were hidden under sacks of turnips, sans equipment. Seifer and Fujin removed their soiled clothes and put on the stolen gear.

“We’ll say you were piss drunk around the latrines if anyone asks. Explain the escort and the smell.” Seifer relayed, putting on his helmet.

“Aye, m’lord.” Raijin gave a quick nod.

With one last check of their gear, the trio stepped back into the hallway, locking the door behind them. A door to the outside was found without much more skulking. Fujin opened it quietly, ever the cautious scout. She waved them forward after checking if the coast was clear. The walls were three paces to the right, the shadow cast by the moonlight would hide them well. Shoulders practically touching the stones, they moved past the makeshift camp the castle soldiers built in the courtyard.

Fires burned in braziers and pits but no one seemed to be patrolling the camp. Perhaps they felt so secure in their walls, they could only perceive external threats. Their laxity would be his advantage. The charade was maintained, Raijin stumbling between him and Fujin, making a show of inebriation. No one stoped them. No one so much as glanced. Hope and tension swelled in his chest. By the time they reached their goal, the gatehouse door, his rib cage felt like it would burst apart.

With a heart hammering in his chest, Seifer pushed open the wooden barrier. He unclenched his jaw when it actually moved. The three infiltrators stepped inside. They were treated with the sight of the great mechanism for the portcullis gates. A chain in the center of a large winch with large spoked wheels on either side. It would take two men to turn the wheels. From the notes of the design of the castle, since it was built with a focus on the defenses of the northern side, the gate on the southern side was built with only one portcullis instead of the two the other side had. More advantage for them.

A pair of guards stood at the end of the room, backs turned as they looked out the murder holes, crossbows resting on the wall by their feet. By the gods blessing, they were unloaded. They turned when heard their footsteps. Seifer moved aside and tapped Raijin on the arm. The big man smirked and charge forward like a bull. The pair barely had time to blink before the swarthy giant crashed into them. They were without helms or head coverings. So when his men-at-arms grabbed both of their heads and smashed them against the stones, there was nothing to prevent their skulls from caving in. Only one such strike was needed, such was Raiden’s strength. He let them slide to the floor, streaks of red smearing the walls.

“Bar the door.” Seifer told Raijin. He turn to Fujin. “Load the crossbows. We’re going up.”

They moved quickly and quietly. By luck or fate, no one on the upper floors came down to investigate the noise made by the scuffle. With the crossbows loaded, one in his hands, the other in Raijin’s, they crept up the stairs.

The gate house had two floors and a roof. The ground floor housed the mechanism that raised the gate. The upper floor was an armory, full of weapons and such used when the gate itself was under attack. The ceiling gave archers the highest vantage to loose their arrows. All standard practice. And if they were following standard practice, there would be six men per side of the gatehouse. If the gods were good to them.

Fujin stuck her head up at the end of the stairs. Seifer held his breath as he watched her head move back and forth. When she lowered it and held up two fingers, he let the air flow out of his nose. He nodded to her and they all moved up. Again, the guards gazes were on the world outside the walls, ignorant of the danger that slunk behind them. Seifer and Raijin carefully took positions behind the pair and aimed their crossbows. Both were dead with bolts sticking out of the backs of their heads before they hit the ground.

Raijin went to the door that led to other side of the of the gate house to lock it, then he went to one that opened up to the walls, securing it as well. Seifer followed Fujin to the roof. Two guards walked back and forth around a large brazier that sat in the middle of the roof. With a silent nod of understanding, the two rushed up and pulled them to the floor by their feet. The fall dazed the men and quick daggers silenced any screams that may have come from them. The gate house was theirs.

Now, it was time to enact the plan.

“Raijin with me.” Seifer told the large man as he and Fujin barreled down the stairs.

It would be too much to throw the brazier off the roof. He looked around. Several large pots filled the second floor. He popped the lid off of one. It was full of oil. He quickly went to one of the bodies of the guards and began pulling off the man’s gambeson. He dipped in the oil, letting it soak in all the combustible fluid. Once he felt it had absorbed enough of it, he grabbed a spear off a rack on the wall and stuck the saturated garment onto the spear tip. Once fully prepared, he handed it all to Fujin.

“We will begin to raise the gate.” Seifer conferred. “Once it starts lifting, cast this into the fire and throw it from the walls. The army should charge in after that.”

All three nodded and went about their tasks.

Seifer followed Raijin down to the ground floor. Each seized a wheel and began turning. It creaked stubbornly at first, refusing to move. The knight had to pull down with all of his strength, straining his muscles to the breaking point. He cursed under his breath when it finally began to shift with a loud shriek of metal, the chain holding the portcullis going taught. Well, the men within the walls would know something is wrong now. No sooner had the thought manifested, Seifer heard yelling over the sound of the chain moving.

A brief flash of light passed by the murder holes at the end of the room out of the corner of his eye. The signal was sent. Now that they just finish raising the gate and not die before the army charged in. Only two tasks to accomplish.

The knight heard the first crash against the door, probably someone trying to slam through. The oak held firm, not budging an inch. More crashes followed.

“DOORS!!!” Fujin cried out. The defenders were not doubt trying to enter the gatehouse from every conceivable angle. He and Raijin moved faster.

The wheels stopped just as he heard the first chop. They were bringing out axes. Forcing a wedge into the winch, Seifer stepped back from the device and pulled out the sword at his belt.

“Fujin, to me!” He called, facing the door. “Raijin, cover the stairs.

They had to guard the gate mechanism. Nothing could be allowed to drop the gate. Crashing came from all sides, soldiers desperately trying to get in. Then he heard it. The pounding of hooves. The sounds at the door stopped for a moment before increasing in pace and intensity. Seifer smirked. They were doomed.

The hooves became as a thunderstorm and the very ground shook as they moved closer. A great cry went up and the knight allowed himself to relax.

The sounds at the doors stopped, replaced by panicked screams and the clash of metal. Seifer sighed.

Victory.

******

Seifer stepped into the courtyard, followed closely by his retainers. The makeshift camp of the defenders was in disarray, the soldiers being corralled into the into one corner by a wall infantrymen with shields and spears. The fight had gone out of them.

“Sir Seifer!” A voice called out. He turned toward it. Sir Irvine, sat astride his horse, the visor of his helmet lifted. He was grinning at Seifer.

The rest of his fellow knights stopped and turned to look at him from atop their horses, many raising their visors and cheering. It swept through the crowd. Soon, he wash awash in the army’s cries. His teachers and trainers would tell him to be humble in such a moment but they never took a castle in a single night. Seifer decided to let the crowd drown him in their adoration. He lifted his sword and let out a great cry. The returned, unified cry could probably be heard in the Empire.

A squire ran up to him, bowed and beckoned him toeards the keep. The boy was one of Lord Trepe’s. Seifer and his retinue followed the young man.

In the great hall by the throne in the back of the room, stood Lord Adelbert Trepe along with Squall. The Old and Young Lion regarded him evenly as he approached them. He fell to his knee in front of them, gazing on the ground. Fujin and Raijin followed suit.

“Sir Seifer.” Lord Trepe stepped forward, his armored boots coming into view.

“My lord.” Seifer’s heart hammered.

“You smell like shit.” Squall commented.

“We climbed in through the privy chute.” Seifer informed them.

“…I definitely would not have thought of that, much less done it.” Lord Trepe observed, walking away.

“The castle is yours…my lord.” Seifer’s thoughts went to Quistis. Would this victory be enough to seal their fate? Would the dream he envisioned for the two of them become a reality?

“Heh, and with minimal damage. We can use it again immediately.” Lord Trepe laughed, the sound of his footsteps stopping. “Truly, a complete victory.”

“As promised, my lord.” The knight dared to remind.

A stiffening silence fell over the great hall. Seifer did not breathe. His heart tried to escape via his throat but he held it down.

“All this for a title?” His lord asked. The words were even. Considered.

“All this…” Seifer swallowed. “…for my wife.”

“Aye. May that devotion never die.” Came the response. The knight’s head flew up and turned to his father-in-law. The Old Lion stared at him with the shadow of a smile on his face. “As promised, I will speak to his Majesty on your behalf. Though I cannot guarantee what the king will do.”

“Thank you, my lord.” The relief he felt nearly made Seifer fall to the floor.

Lord Trepe waved a hand in.

“Wash yourself, Sir Seifer.” The lord grimaced, scrunching his nose. “You are to join my war council.”

The floor underneath his feet may as well have fallen into an abyss for the feeling of vertigo his lords instilled in him.

“My lord?” Seifer gulped.

“I will not have the castle smell of shit.” Lord Adelbert Trepe stated simply. He walked back to the throne, placing a hand on it. Seifer’s eyes followed every movement. “Once you are cleansed, return to the great hall. There is much to discuss. I have a war to win and will need your mind.”

******

Steam rose from the water. Seifer stared at it. It smelled of nothing. No herbs or flowers. Nothing floated on the surface, just an unremarkable tub filled with hot water.

Never would have thought he could hold such disdain against an inanimate object.

With a heavy sigh, he poured the contents of the bucket in his hands over his head. The shit, blood and grime fell away, the suds from the soap covering his body helping to lift all the foulness from his skin. It was cold in the bathing chamber but he did not shiver or shake. He did not feel drawn to the warmth. He only felt empty.

He had looked for her, after her father had given his promise to speak to the king on his behalf and then commanded he and his retainers wash themselves. He wanted to share the victory with her, hold her up and spin her for all to see. He was halfway out the great hall when he remembered that she was not here. She was leagues away, safe in the south. The giddy madness lifting his soul melted away, leaving nothing.

Quistis of the house Trepe. His wife. His love.

Just when their dream felt so real, so near completion did he realize how much he truly missed her. It felt as if she were on another world. Beyond his grasp. His success made him aware of just how much victory had driven him forward. How much it occupied his mind. Now, with it achieved, he was filled with longing and heartache.

How long until they saw each other again?

A great victory had been achieved by his hand. But how many more would be needed to end the war? 

Seifer shook his head. Such thoughts would drive him mad. One day at a time. The war would end and he would see Quistis again. He would fight fate and the gods to make it so.

With soap in hand, he scrubbed again. It would take several such scrubbings to rid him of the odors clinging to him. Fujin and Raijin had washed first and he let them have the chamber themselves. They took far longer than he would have thought necessary to clean but he suspected they were celebrating the victory in their own way. He allowed himself a smile as he washed his hair for the third time. Husband and wife seemed to weak a term to describe what the two of them had. Soulmates, maybe.

With the latest round of cleaning done, Seifer dipped the bucket into the water and let it rinse away the soap on his body. He could not smell the shit anymore but maybe his nose died in the castle. Deciding that anymore washing would pull off his skin, the knight stepped into the tub. 

The hot water began to soothe his tired muscles almost immediately. A long breath left his throat as Seifer sunk in up to his neck. He laid there for several moments, trying to fight the fatigue he had been ignoring for the better part of a day and night. Dawn had barely cracked over the horizon by the time the castle was secure. He left his eyes drift closed. It would be a moment only. 

A beautiful giggle made them erupt open. 

Lady Quistis Trepe gazed up him from the other side of the tub. Her golden hair up in a braid to keep it from soaking in the water. Her eyes, that beautiful shade of blue that could put any sapphire to shame, looked at him with warmth and yearning. She was here. Seifer charged forward onto his knees but slipped. His face collided with the surface of the bath water, going under. His eyes bulged and he shot to his feet, coughing and sputtering all over the chamber. He looked around as he cleared his lungs of liquid.

Quistis was gone. A fleeting dream from an exhausted mind.

With growl, Seifer sat back down. Many frustrations filed his mind but only one left behind a physical presence. His cock had risen at the sight of his wife near as quickly as he had. It seemed to strain against his skin, like a starving wolf that had just smelled fresh blood. Now it obsessed after her, refusing to lower. He could not blame it. He felt much the same way.

Deciding temperance was not one of his virtues, Seifer stepped out of the water and back onto cold stones that made up the floor of the chamber. He laid down a large cloth next to the washing vessel and sat down on it, pressing his back to the bathtub. With clenched teeth, his took hold of his cock by the head and pulled down.

A groan filled the air, his want and aggravations given sound. He felt clumsy and unpracticed compared to her graceful fingers and wet, silky mouth. He imagined her here again, naked before him. Her fingers were the ones going up and down his length, a mischievous smile on her face as she watched his face twist in pleasure.

By the gods, she was beautiful.

Seifer felt the pressure build at the tip of his girth but it stayed there, steady. Each stroke only moving him toward climax hairs breadth at a time. He swore. There was no replacing her. Quistis dreamself moved. She straddled him and he watch in his mind’s eye as she guided him into herself. He tried to recall the feeling of being inside her, the all consuming warmth and drenched tightness. Her phantom moved her hips, just like she had many times before. She smiled down at him, draping her arms over his shoulders. 

The features of her body manifested before him. Her slender limbs, looking so delicate but filled with such strength. Her neck and collarbone, always so enticing to his lips. He ran his tongue over his lips as his pace increased. Her breasts, perfect in form and size, pretty nipples erect. He loved when she was on top because her bosoms hung so sensually, ready to be felt and tasted. His fingers twitched, remembering the feel of her rear end. Soft yet firm and wonderful sight besides. Finally, his eyes fell upon his dream’s face.

Soft beautiful lips stretched into a radiant smile. Her adorable nose that he just wanted to peck with his lips. In this vision, her hair was loose and free, a golden waterfall falling about her shoulders. At last, her eyes became clear in his imaginings. Blue, stunning orbs shining at him with unfettered love and affection. Such emotions direct at one such as he. A loud mouthed, stubborn braggart had somehow gained the love of an angel born on earth.

Seifer longed for her voice. To hear her speak of trees and books and horse rides. Of politics and kingdoms. Her was mind sharper than any sword and it was little he could do but stand in awe. He wanted her to laugh at his terrible humor and gasp at his shows of bravado. To listen as she soothed a scared dog or sung with her maids and ladies.

Gods, he would never be worthy of her but he would try. For the rest of his life, he would strive to be enough to stand by her side.

Quistis stared down at him, her cerulean orbs unblinking. He leaned to kiss her but found only air. Just a fantasy. He stopped moving after that, just stared at the shadow of his wife forlornly. She smiled at him sadly, her eyes moist with tears.

Seifer did not wish to continue. Letting go of himself, he sat back quietly, staring at the ceiling. His cock went soft. When he turned back to Quistis, she was gone. He was alone, far from the warmth of home. He would be for a very long time. He swallowed and stood. He dressed himself quickly and left the chamber.

The morning air touched his face. It might have been warm. He could not feel it. 

The army moved about, resting and preparing for the next march. A few would stay as a garrison but most would continue north, to continue the fight. Seifer would be among them, as part of Lord Trepe’s war council. A high honor that many would kill for. It would inflate any man’s pride. He could not feel his pride right now. The hollowness remained.

Seifer looked south. A wind picked up, pushing him towards the north. He ground his teeth. The council were to meet soon. 

Duty called.

Chapter 6: Home

The frost on the glass of the window twisted into a beautiful canvas of twirls and sharp edges. Quistis eyes followed the lines of the patterns, trying to imagine what phenomenon formed them. Perhaps a fairy had come in the night to paint them on. She imagined a beautiful Queen, silver-haired, adorned in furs, flying to the window in the dead of night with a paint brush.

She smiled to herself. A pleasant thought. She needed more of those these days.

Two years. Almost seven hundred and fifty days of waiting.

Quistis stared at the flames in the fireplace. She felt the heat on her face and the rest of her body but it was little help against the cold clinging to her soul like a layer of frost. She could barely remember what it felt like to have her spirit alight with his fire.

No news in so long. The winter snows made travel difficult so no word had been received in months. The war was going well, traitor lands reclaimed, Imperial armies put to flight. The last correspondence from her father said the army, led by the king himself, was to confront the Imperial forces at the border. A victory there, and the rumors of rebellion in the Palmecian Empire itself, would put an end to the war. The letter had come in October. It was now February. Spring would be here soon and with it open roads and perhaps the declaration of victory.

The young Lady Almasy pulled out the letter that sat nestled in the hardcover of the book she was trying to read. It was one of two private messages that had arrived with her father’s last official report. One meant for her mother, the other for her. She unfolded the parchment.

Quistis,

I sit in darkness. A perpetual night follows my every step. I yearn for you, my light, so that I may once again see all that is good in this world. It will not be day again until we are together.

I know not warmth except for memories of you.

Yours, forever

Seifer 

She kissed the letter, as she had countless times before. Seifer lived and missed her as much as she missed him. She hoped he felt the kiss, paused in his day to touch his lips as her love was delivered across such a great distance. A sigh left her as she wrapped the fur blanket around her shoulders tighter.

Some noises from the courtyard drew her attention for a moment but she did not rise from her couch. The hustle and bustle of the castle would be tended to in time. Castle life in winter was one of almost perpetual boredom, little to due but tend to small tasks and receive petitioners. And snows made the latter few and far between. It was times like these that made Quistis wish she could sleep through the winter like a bear.

The noble and dignified lady snorted at the thought. That would be a most amusing fable. A gallant knight returns home only to find his wife turned into a great beast. Though she liked to imagine Seifer charging forward, ever bullheaded, and taking her hand. He would drop to one knee and tell her beauty was the same as when he left. Kiss her furry paw as she stood in a fancy dress. A few laughs shook her shoulders.

More noise floated into her ears. A great clattering within the walls this time and it was getting closer. Heavy footsteps. Perhaps the guards were trying to see to some crisis. She would at least see to the incident, if for no other reason than to cast away her melancholic boredom. No sooner had she left her soft cushions did the door to her chamber burst open. She whirled to castigate whoever dared to just enter her room without permission but stopped dead when she saw who stood in the threshold.

Blond hair. Green eyes. A scar running diagonally down a beautiful, rugged face.

Seifer.

Quistis’ mouth fell open as her lungs completely seized. A dream. She was dreaming this while napping in front of the fire.

The knight, her knight, took a step forward, closing the door behind him. The sound jolted Quistis. Her heart went wild and her breathing began again. It was rapid and crazed, as if no amount of air to fill her enough. She remained standing and he continued his march toward her.

Don’t wake up, don’t wake up, don’t wa—

Warm hands took hold of her face, rough and calloused and his. All higher thought became obliterated from her mind as his lips crashed onto hers. All that remained were the sensations. The warmth of his soft lips. The taste of his mouth. The heat radiating from him as he pulled her into a fierce hug. The feel of her on him, her body finding the spots on his that she just fit into. Finally, she felt the fire. A great fire that moved through her entire being.

It burned within her like a forest ablaze. It consumed her, body and soul. She returned the kiss as fiercely as he gave it. Her hands moved, up his chest, digging into the muscles through his doublet. Oh, how she had missed the feeling of having him under her fingers. They moved up, climbing his neck to feel his face before her limbs wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.

He was real. What they were doing was real. Tears flowed down her cheeks freely. Seifer must have felt the moistness on her face because he pulled back, his gorgeous face full of concern. All he found was the happiest smile, the joy on features so profound it hurt. He chuckled, his mouth mirroring her own. They kissed again. Not the hungry thing of before but a gentle touch that nonetheless was filled with such love and affection she feared her heart may burst.

Her knight. Her husband. Her love. Returned to her, whole and unharmed. The gods were good to her. They stood in each other’s arms for a long while. She could not be happier.

Then she felt his girth press against her stomach. A great, unfathomably strong pull seized her chest. She pushed away from him and looked down, his arousal pushing against his trousers. The flame inside transformed into a burning desire that pooled low in her stomach, flowing into the space between her legs. She looked up into his eyes, finding a storm of want roiling in them. She saw the tension in his jaw, the strain on his neck. Neither of them breathed.

Seifer broke first, a great breath erupting out of his nostrils. Their restraint snapped like a rope pulled in opposite directions. They collided together, a tangle of lips, limbs and lust. He pulled up her skirts, she undid the laces of his trousers and they both fell back on the couch. He pushed aside her undergarments as she took hold of his rock hard cock. A growl rolled across her neck as she stroked down his significant length. A shiver went down to her very bones. He moved her left leg up, letting her calf rest on the back of the couch. She pulled him towards her by his girth. Her knight obeyed her silent but aggressive command, positioning himself against her entrance and plunging in.

Quistis threw her head back and let out a desperate moan. Her desires had drenched her so thoroughly that she was practically dripping by the time her entered her. A savage groan escaped him as he sat in her, stretching her wide. She heard the wood of the couch strain and creak where he gripped it. 

By all the gods, how long had it been since she felt so full? So good? So fucking complete?

Her hand went to his cheek. She pulled him down into a kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth. His own met hers and a great duel commenced between them. She felt him pull back his hips before he savagely thrust into her. She gasped into his mouth. She was at the edge already, coming undone so quickly, she would hardly have believed such a thing possible if she was not experiencing it firsthand. He moved again and she with him, grinding against him as he slammed against her. This seemed to encourage him because his pace increased for the next thrust. Her fingers went to his rear end where they dug into the flesh, making him go deeper.

It was all she needed. In a few more wild, frenzied collisions, she shattered, wave after wave pleasure drowning her mind. A guttural moan reached her ears, her husband’s climax crashing into hers. She felt his cock pulse inside her, and it only made her orgasm more intense. He did not collapse on top her, his arms somehow keeping him up despite the visible shake they had gained. They spent the next few moments trying to regain the ability to breathe. All the while, she stared at him unblinking, afraid that if she closed her eyes, even for a fraction of second, he would be gone.

But he did not go. She blinked and he was still there. Inside her, on top of her, with her.

“This is no dream…” Quistis whispered in awe.

“It is.” Seifer told her, the barest of smiles on his lips. “It is our dream. Made real.”

“The war is over.” She sighed, her fingers gliding up his side. So many parts of him were foreign to her again but she would dedicate herself to re-learning them. He shifted to more comfortably hover over her.

“Indeed.” He nodded, brushing his knuckles against her wet cheek. She shut her eyes to better feel it. “The traitors captured and the Empire put to rout. It is over.”

“You are mine again.” Quistis opened her eyes to begin admiring his face all over again. She would no longer need to rely on memory.

“I never stopped being yours.” Seifer told her, gentle yet determined at once. “Even far afield, you had the key to my soul.”

“Such a romantic.” She mused, trying to seem amused even as his words made her heart swell. She raised her head to him, kissing him again.

“You deserve nothing less.” He said against her mouth. “I have been lax in my care for you in these last two years.”

Quistis looked at his face, taking in every detail. A new scar, a white line from his jaw to just below his left eye, decorated his cheek. A cheek that looked more hollow than she remembered it. All of him looked lighter. The war had left its mark on him as all wars do on those that get caught in them. Taken from him. It killed the fire in so many. But his eyes were just as she remembered, beautiful green orbs that burned with life and love.

“It was you.”

Seifer’s words pulled Quistis out of her thoughts. She blinked and his smile widened.

“You were looking for me. Just now, with your eyes.” He explained. “I am here, whole, because of you. You are what grounded me. Centered me. The thoughts of you and our life together kept me from shattering.”

Our life.

Yes. That sounded sublime, like everything she could want and need condensed into a single phrase. They were each other’s rocks, standing hand in hand to face whatever fate and the gods decided to cast their way. There could be no other to stand by her side.

“Our life…” The words left her lips and she let them float between them. “I cannot wait to start.”

“What’s first?” He asked in amusement.

Quistis inhaled through her nose and a thought instantly burst forth in her mind.

“A bath, dear husband. You smell terrible.” Seifer looked taken aback though he did at least sniff at himself. The grimace that took over his face made her own break out into a knowing smile.

“Too much road on me.” He complained, shaking his head. “The war near killed my sense of smell. Forgive me, dear wife, for greeting you in such a state.”

“Your greeting…” Quistis squeezed his rump for emphasis. “…was greatly appreciated, my love. A good start to the debt you have accrued.”

“Debt?” His brows furrowed in that way she liked, he looked angry but focused. As sharp as a blades edge. She felt the heat build in her again.

“Yes.” Quistis purred. She ran her tongue over her lips and watched understanding begin to blossom in his eyes as they followed the motion. “You have certain husbandly duties that have not been attended to in so long. 

“I am a man of honor.” He smirked. She shut her eyes and bit her lower lip as she felt him harden inside her, a needy moan rumbling in her throat. “I must make sure this debt is paid. I assume there is interest that has accrued?”

“Much.” She let out a breath, nodding several times.

Seifer leaned back, his hand at the fork of splayed her legs, where his length sat buried within her. His thumb brush against her clit, featherlight and teasing. Quistis threw her head back against the cushion with a gasp as a new wave of pleasure traveled through her. He attacked her exposed throat, mouth and tongue attending the sensitive skin enthusiastically. Her hand buried itself in his hair.

“No time like the present, then.” His teeth grazed her skin and Quistis’ eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head.

Warmth suffused her completely and only now did Quistis realize it had been winter in her soul for over two years. Yet, spring finally arrived, in the form of her husband, bright and hot as the sun. She knew, that duty or fate may have plans for them yet but for now, she would bask in the light.

 

Several years later…

 

Quistis stared at where her husband’s hand pressed against the trunk of the tree. The same tree from near a decade ago, that still held vigil over the same small stream. Next to his fingers were two letters and a symbol, carved into the bark.

A ‘Q’ and ‘S’ surrounded by a heart.

“Father, what is that?”

The question was Selene’s, their oldest, who sat in her father’s upheld forearm, her little arms around his broad neck. Her green eyes stared in confusion at the carvings.

“That, little love, is an arbor-glyph.” Seifer explained. “It is magic.”

Their daughter’s head whipped to look at Seifer, her near white blonde braid flying through the air at the motion.

“Truly?!” Selene’s wonder and enthusiasm were plain to hear. 

“Yes.” Seifer chuckled. “It is said that if you carve the first letter of your love’s name alongside yours, you bind yourselves to each other forever.”

“Does this magic truly work?” Their daughter asked, reaching out to touch the letters.

“It has so far.” Seifer turned to Quistis , a soft smile on his face. She returned it in kind, her heart floating happily in her chest. 

He must have carved this into the tree all those years ago. He was that certain of them even back then. The fall winds did not chill her as much anymore. There was movement at her shoulder and little whimper. Quinn, their little son, stirred against her in his sleep. The day of hunting and adventure utterly exhausting the little boy.

“Mother? Is father telling the truth?” Her little girl inquired.

Quistis lifted her head to answer her daughter but Seifer beat her to it with his own question.

“Is my word not good enough for you, child?”

“No.” Selene huffed, putting a fist on her hip. “You tell me goblins will steal my hair if I don’t eat my vegetables.”

“They will.” Seifer threw back, as serious as a sermon.

“They will not!” Her little girl boasted, a very familiar smirk on her face. “I have not eaten my vegetables in a week and I still have my hair.”

Father and mother stared at daughter. It was Seifer who broke the silence.

“You have not been eating your vegetables?” Seifer’s tone was low and dangerous.

Selene seemed to realize the trouble she was in with her accidental confession and turned to her desperately.

“Mother! Is it true what father said about magic!?” She squeaked, no doubt hoping to distract from her mistake.

Quistis laughed, nodding her head.

“Yes, dear child.” Quistis answered, her gaze falling upon her husband’s, her love’s, eyes again. “The magic is real.”

Selene clapped excitedly and began to ask a thousand questions. Seifer and Quistis endured her inquisition with bemused smiles and joined hands. She was told of how magic flowed in the family. They spoke of how a great warrior won them a castle. How a lady saved her knight from the brink of death. Of a queen turned into a bear and her husband who still loved her anyway. Her favorite was of a young man and woman meeting under this very tree to declare ever lasting love.

It would become a fable in their family for generations to come. The story of what was promised by the stream.

Notes:

Sometimes, you look at a one-shot and think:

“I can make a longer story out of this. It has potential.”

Next thing you know you got a novella under your belt. This was a labor of love. Thank you to all that made it this far.

AU’s are fun ways to explore characters. You want them to be new and fresh but also recognizable. And they allow you to put these guys in situations their original worlds would thrust them into.

Hope y’all enjoyed the smut and the story.