Before You Read/Author's Note: This is a Soul Calibur fic that I wrote. It took me several days to write since I didn't have my laptop at the time of writing it. I wrote it in my little notebook of 80 sheets. It's 9.5 in. x 5.375 in., so in total, I had an estimated 21 1/2 pages by the time I completed it. In Microsoft Word, it totalled in only nine pages, but still, it took me days to finish it all. Anyway, as the warning above says, it contains incest. Between who, you may ask? If anyone's played Soul Calibur V lately, you might have an idea who the two subjects are. If not, I'll tell you.

Pyrrha Alexandra
and...
Patroklos Alexander

I won't reveal anything from the game, but let's just say these two characters were both weak before they could finally be together. I used that as a springboard to write this fic. Enjoy the read. ^^

Underneath the Shimmering Moonlight
by: FrostbittenDeath

"Are we finally going home, Patroklos?" she asked with the cursed sword and shield still in her hands.

"Yes, Pyrrha. We are."

Though Pyrrha, still infused with darkness yet freed of its grasp the girl with the ring blade manipulated her with, was partially unsure. Those words – so hopeful; the sky above still so black and encompassing. With her spirit so vulnerable to the words of people, hearing these words was pure relief. Ecstatic, she wrapped her arms around her brother and buried her head in his chest. "Patroklos! I can't wait!"

"Neither can I; but I think we should get started walking in that direction, then. Home's a long ways away from here."

"How far away?"

She looked up at him. He returned with a smile of assurance. "Very far away."

"Oh…" she answered despondently.

He could see the humanity in her still glowing neon red eyes. That blow earlier must have finally awakened her placidity. She was scared. She'd been away from home for countless days and nights, wondering hopelessly where her dear brother was, if he was okay, if he was looking for her. Well, he was. She'd have to question her own humanity and use her weakness as a gavel to choose her destiny without the guidance of their mother, but, instead, of a manipulator; and a clever one, he had to admit. He felt her pain. She just wanted to go home with her brother. Was that so much? Back then, maybe so, but not now. Not now. "How about we start walking now? The sooner we get moving, the sooner we get home."

"Yeah, you're right," she nodded.

With Pyrrha comforted in her brother's arms, they began walking, leaving the torn scars of the battlefield behind them.

Far away. She'd be clinging onto that for a little while. She could just imagine the hundreds – maybe even thousands – of miles of land they'd have to trek through. It'd take days to reach their destination. Although this time would give her the opportunity to study her brother. She knew almost nothing about Patroklos or their mother. All that she knew was her name: Sophitia Alexandra. Anything else was invalid. She hoped her know more about their mom than she did. That was obvious he did because if she knew absolutely nothing, he knew something, more than likely. Also they could discover new lands together, meet new people – well, maybe not that. Patroklos had probably been through too much to find her already. She'd rather not burden him with her…her pitiful state, with her constant repetitions of "sorry, sorry, sorry!" Her apologies became pious at this point. If she didn't feel regret or shame turning over within her for something she did or didn't commit (she knew she did none of those horrible things), then she felt dirty, filthy repugnant, like something was wrong with her. It was as if she had committed a cardinal sin and the only way to save herself from eternal damnation was to plead forgiveness to those infracted by her careless blunder. Too bad people loved to crucify their own. God, it was painful. So painful! Brother, protect me, she thought tearfully as she held him tighter. "Um, Patroklos…?"

He heard her but, through a newfound conceit, neglected to answer. As they were leaving Denevér Castle, he looked up to the deep purple blackness that was Astral Chaos, the preeminent evil home to the cursed sword, Soul Edge. How could he have been so blind not to realize Graf Dumas of Hungary was truly the malevolent Nightmare, the bearer of such a demonic force? He knew he could never bring those innocent people back, not a single one, nor could he avenge them. Could one avenge those killed by himself, the one holding the sword who took their lives? He doubted it, but Graf Dumas wasn't what he appeared and thus needed to be permanently dethroned. This blackness, so devoid of any light or purity, vexed him. So much so as that blade existed, so did that hell. Something had to be done to lay Nightmare and the cursed blade to rest. "I won't let anyone get in my way," he said to himself.

Pyrrha was lost. Was he talking to himself? He could do that wherever, whenever, on his own time. Right now, though, she needed him to talk to her. "Huh?"

"Huh?"

"You didn't answer me."

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of something," he said. His focus was fully fixed on her now as they left Denevér Castle and the darkness that consumed it. They now trekked war torn battlegrounds where bodies of soldiers and malfested alike laid in waste. "What is it?"

"Oh, uh, right!" she started, trying to recover her scatterbrained thoughts. She never expected such a slow reaction time from him. "I wanted to ask you a question. Um…" She held her tongue suddenly.

"What?"

"N-nothing. Sorry I thought of it. It's a stupid question anyway, Patroklos."

He shrugged here shoulder with his hand and chuckled. "Come on, Pyrrha. What's the question?"

"N-no. It's stupid."

"Now how can it be stupid if you never told me what it is?"

Oh, she walked right into his logic! She had no other choice but to tell him. "Okay," she said. She gulped a bit and asked her question, albeit somewhat grudgingly. "Patroklos, who, uh…who was—"

"Who was…who? Come on, spit it out, sis."

"Who was…who was our mother?"

Patroklos' eyes widened. He was surprised. He never thought he'd hear that question ring in his ears again, especially by her. It'd been nearly three years since his father spoke the explicit details of that dreadful day. A bit of a memory jog would really help with ungraving such vital information. "Pyrrha!" he exclaimed.

His brief mini-explosion scared her. She buried her head in his collar, whimpering.

"That's not a stupid question. Not by a longshot," he said. He pulled Pyrrha off him and wiped the fear off her face with a caring smile.

She smiled back. "It isn't?" she said with profound surprise.

"Nope."

"Who was she?"

"I don't remember everything our father, Rothieon, told me when I was younger, but I'll see what I can salvage. Our mother's name was Sophitia Alexandra and she was a valient woman, fair and steadfast on the path of good. She was as beautiful as she was courageous, as wise as she was strong. He said that the gods of the Pantheon granted her great powers which could be used in her mission to eliminate the cursed blade Soul Edge from this world."

"Soul Edge?" Pyrrha said. Did he mean the sword that girl with the ring blade kept on about, that cast blood iron red blade she wanted to feed her soul to? If that was true, was this sword and shield she held in her hands the very same malevolent evil known as Soul Edge? Did this mean she was truly a bringer of woe after all?

"Yes. She went to great lengths to rid that catastrophic power from ever existing. Sounds like a great woman, right?"

"S-she does. You were right! I'd love to meet our mother in person!"

He could see she was really anxious; although he knew. The truth was hard to swallow; and for his sister, it would be nothing short of soul-crushing. It still had to be done, regardless of the impact it would no doubt have on Pyrrha. If she cried, at least she would have a shoulder to cry on. He felt successful in that regard. "Unfortunately, I never got the chance to see her or know her and neither will you."

"Why?" her child-like person asked. "How come?"

"Because she was killed by a group of malfested warriors. I think I told you this already. Malfested are deviant pawns under the Soul Edge's control, soulless servants dedicated to act on its very whim. You were even turned into one of them yourself and you would have remained that way if I hadn't freed you with the power of the Soul Calibur."

"S-s-so…we'll never get to…"

"No, sadly. I'm sorry, Pyrrha."

She threw herself into her brother's arms. Tears streamed down her face endlessly. If she had known this, maybe life wouldn't have been so unfair to her. Maybe she would have had their mother in spirit, at least; but, no. Years of ignorance led to a cursed fetal abortion of an existence. A life without a mom, a dad, or a brother; living in fear every second of every day, hoping in vain not to be shunned for things she never did; losing her soul only to find deception and betrayal in comfort – why was she even alive? The gods must have hated her; and for good reason. She was frail, pathetic, pitiful beyond comparison, a sad excuse for a human being. Why was it the only thing that erupted tearfully from her shaken lips was "I'm sorry?" Why was she cursed with this incurable weakness? Oh, life! She wailed inside, leave me and Patroklos alone!

Patroklos held her close and heaved a sigh as he ran his fingers through her golden hair. He cried, too. He could never forget the nights in his room, crying angrily, only thinking of avenging the mother he never had but always wanted. He never got his wish. As they kept straight, Patroklos took time to observe the battlefield. Bodies laid piled on mounds and hills of uprooted rock, fire decomposing the remains into blackened ashes the wind eventually swept away and separated. There were many weapons whet with the blood of fallen warriors, some of the blood still fresh. It was a sad sight. Death gobbled up this battlefield and left nothing behind to remember except for the utter destruction and the foul stench of the rotting dead burning in Hell's contemptible fire. He didn't want to remember this at all. He immediately denounced it and faced forward. Several hours later, they entered a large forest. The wind died down to a gentle breeze and the temperature dropped into the forties. He figured they'd stop and rest here overnight. "Pyrrha, are you getting tired?"

"A little," she said as she let out a yawn.

"Okay. Just wait here. I'll find us some material to start a fire to keep us warm tonight."

"All right. I will." She sat on a rock protruding from the ground, hugging herself in an attempt to keep herself warm until Patroklos returned with the much-needed conductors. She looked up. The moon could be seen through the patchy canopy. It was full. It shone fabulously, bringing a sense of peace and tranquil harmony in her soul. It was so small up there, yet it seemed to effortlessly bring light to the darkness that had fallen moments ago. The stars, too, shared the same purpose. Hundreds of thousands of them hung suspended in the sky emanating more natural light from above, far above in the untouchable vacuum of space. This wasn't serendipitous, but she never thought the moon or the stars were anything symbolic. Well, not until now. The old couple that raised her stressed her to go outside every night and look at the moon. If it wasn't there, then she took to having to gaze at the stars. If push came to shove and neither adorned the sky, they'd have her look at the sky regardless and imagine if the moon or the stars were in the sky. Each were beautiful in their own respect, but she never could comprehend what they intended to tell her.

"Pyrrha, dear, take listen to an old man's words. During the day, the sun shines bright to vanquish the vampires, but during the night, they awaken and hide in the darkness. However, the light of the moon, no matter how minute, reveals those vampires so you may conquer them."

"..."

"Pyrrha, I know how you never knew your family and I know I'm not your father, but I love you as if you were my own daughter. I'm not long for this world. Whenever you feel sad or lonely or you feel it's too hard, look to the stars at night and remember what you are fighting for. You are innocent, but not defenseless."

Oh, how wise he was! If only she understood everything he tried to tell her. She felt horrible he died so prematurely before she ever had the chance to tell him how he felt, how much she appreciated him. He cared for her when no one else would. When the world shunned her, he always defended her staunchly, spitting in the faces of those who hated her. That was until the day of his unspeakable, untimely gruesome death. No amount of gold or silver could ever repay his eternal kindness. She continued to stare up at the moon and the stars, searching for the meaning in his words.

Patroklos came back with two handfuls of twigs, sticks, and stones of great variety. "All right, I'm back."

"You're going to make the fire now?"

He scavenged all the materials in the short grass in a pile. "No way. I can't make a fire with just this stuff," he laughed. "Gotta get some leaves or something to start it.:

"Oh."

"Be back again."

"May I help?" she asked. She had every intention of helping her younger brother with whatever he desired. No way would she refuse to be a blessing to the only piece of family she had left in this world.

"Sure," he said. As she started to get up and wipe the greenery from her clothes, he continued, "but I hope you're not scared of heights. I'm just gonna climb this oak here and get a few leaves. I won't be long."

Ultimately, it was up to a man to do his job and be a man. Her brother was a man. It was probably for the best she stayed behind and wait for him, watching the sticks and stuff like a good girl. She didn't want to distract him. Then again, that was a great excuse to camouflage her acrophobia. "Uh...no, thanks. I'll be patient. Be careful, Patroklos!"

"Don't worry about me, sis," he reassured. Really, she had no need to worry. Patroklos had the ability to fend for himself. He had the chivalrous Siegfried and the mysterious man-wolf Z.W.E.I. to thank for his newfound discipline, as well as his direction-driven courage. They were his heroes. He took to the aged oak and gripped it tightly and began to inch his way up, his eyes set on his target. He suddenly received a brief bit of vertigo. The tree was incredibly tall. He barely made out the end from the massive communion of forestry above him. It beleaguered his conscience to think of a tree so tall that an end appeared unconceivable. No, he wouldn't be beaten by an oversized perennial. He continued his ascent, unhindered by the frightful height standing before him and his conductors.

Pyrrh obediently stayed behind, watching as his form got smaller and smaller the deeper he scaled the vast oak. She clenched her hands together and pressed against her chest. She had an impressive brother. He could do so many great things – saving her life was one of them. "So brave. I wish I was like you, Patroklos."

He was about halfway up the tree and already, one branch had many green leaves on it. He took out his Soul Calibur from its sheathe and slashed it from the tree. He yelled at Pyrrha to stand clear of falling branches. She responded with a yell. He jumped from the tree and fell until he hit the ground, landing perfectly on his feet. There was the branch, right next to Pyrrha's feet. "Well, let's make that fire now."

"Yeah!"

Moments later, leaves were burning. A gentle fire burned, giving heat and more light to the darkness of the forest surrounding them. Pyrrha sat cradled under her brother's strong arm. "Thank you, Patroklos," she said to him.

"You're welcome. Feeling better?"

"I am, but I'm not sleepy yet."

"Good."

"Hey, Patroklos? I love you."

"I love you, too, Pyrrha."

Blushes appeared on both their faces. They hoped nobody was around to hear that exchange. It was a little embarrassing. Patroklos cleared his throat and quickly altered the topic. "So, Pyrrha, now that I finally found you and freed you from Soul Edge's grasp, how are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling much better. I don't feel it at all, really," she said, "but it was hard to let go once it got a hold of me. I was told over and over by the voice of the girl they'd never abandon me, she'd never abandon me if I did whatever I was told; and that was to kill. I didn't want to kill any more, but..."

"...but you were seduced by the darkness. It took advantage of your weakness, your innocence, and corrupted it to the vein until you had no other choice but to accept."

What? He seemed to know things about her already. He finished her sentence without even thinking. How was it possible? They barely knew each other; but they were getting there. She only knew of their kinship. They were brother and sister. They cared about one another. Other than those quintessential bullet points, he was just another stranger, albeit a handsome and kindly one, to say the least. Was her poor heart truly so easy for her practically unknown brother to read? She curled up into her brother's side, letting her tears drain once more. "I'm so sorry, Patroklos!"

"Sorry? For what?" he questioned her. This strange, sudden behavior befuddled her.

"For being so...different. We've barely gotten to know each other and already you know how frail I am," she began tearfully. "I never knew my family – you, my mom, or my dad. Everyone I had the displeasure of knowing, even the man I wanted to marry, all mysteriously died before me; and I just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They called me a "bringer of woe." All I did was apologize for the things I never did. It was all I knew how to do. That dead body at my feet – it wasn't me! I'm sorry! Please forgive me! It wasn't me...! Wherever I ran, there was no escape from the hatred they forced upon my conscience. I was a fugitive against my will... But then the strange girl with the ring blade came to me, approaching with her alluring eyes filled with toxicity and a devious smile. She scared me, but she spoke to me words that made me feel important. I...I felt like...like somebody with her, like I mattered."

All Patroklos could do was listen to her tale. He felt her sorrow cut her deep. He remained silent as she continued on.

"T-then I n-nearly killed you, my only brother," she broke, barely holding on from completely breaking down. "I-I let the darkness t-take hold because...I was weak. I was weak, Patroklos. I was scared to be alone. Now I don't want to be alone anymore, but...but I don't want to b-b-burden you with my stupid problems! I'm sorry for being like I am... I'm so sorry!"

All this self-pity was going to make Patroklos sick, but he couldn't shun her. Not only would it be wrong to abandon someone in need, but she was his sister. She was hurting more than he could imagine and she needed a role model. The last person he needed influencing her was that malfested girl. Not again. Never again. He loved her and he felt for her; but frankly the apologizing needed to stop here and now. He stroked her hair again and shared some comfort with her. "Pyrrha, listen. I don't know what kind of life you had, but from what you told me, it sounded pretty terrible. I wished I was there to protect you from all those people, but I wasn't. I had my own mission to complete before I could hold you in my arms again."

Pyrrha heard him and listened. Was he really...? When she looked to him, her eyes had undergone a change, as well as the rest of her body. Such an alien feeling that ostracized her, but it served as a prevalent refresher of what she left behind – wax sentimental.

"I was weak, too. I didn't know who I was or even what I was fighting for. I thought I was fighting for you. I was sure of it; but then I found myself lost in frail conviction, overwhelmed by the memories of the mother I never knew. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. It took a few lectures and a good beating or two for me to finally realize what I was bound to lose. If I wanted things to return to normal, I had to fight for you. Mourning like a stubborn child wasn't going to bring you back to reality. I had to take to heart the truth that I might lose you. But it would ease my conscience knowing that you'd die with every last bit of purity inside you, unaltered by the even that once corrupted you, rather than let you continue to live as a mindless slave of Soul Edge."

"You'd do all that...for me?"

"That's right. And I'd do it all over again," he smiled.

By the Gods! What love he had for her. Never had one been so caring, so gentle, so virtuous towards her before. Just then, it happened. She suddenly began shining with the luminous aura of the moon. Her red dress faded to a pure white, her top to brown – the gorgeous shades and hues of beauty, the Earth, returned. Her blue ribbon also returned, placed exactly in her hair where it always was: top-left, centered on the side. This was her brother, her guardian, her unmovable rock, the piece of her once-severed heart now eternally mended – Patroklos. Her tears grew warmer as they slid down her face and heart started beating faster. Her lips curled up. She couldn't control her happiness. He cared for her spirit so much, respected her mind, and cherished her body that it was inconceivable to imagine such blessed happiness for such a broken soul. Pressure rose inside her. Her grip on Patroklos grew tighter and tighter. Then it happened. She snapped forward and planted her lips on his.

Oh, wow! Patroklos had no time to react. It was just so sudden. He was actually kissing his sister on the lips! Wasn't this kind of stuff forbidden? Rothieon said something about this, but his thoughts were too scatterbrained now to remember a word he said, and he'd probably remain in that awkwardly pensive state for a while. She pulled back, still smiling. Patroklos, on the other hand, sat stoned in his shock. "Whoa! Pyrrha, did you just...!"

Uh-oh. Did she do something wrong? Her brother looked puzzled, not to mention a bit taken with that blush on his face. She buried her face in her palms, whining in her utter mortification. "Oh, sorry, sorry! Was I not supposed to? I didn't mean to! I only wanted to show my big, strong, brave brother my gratification, that's all! Oh-ho, I'm sorry! I didn't know I shouldn't have done that!"

"No, no, that's not it! Please!" he implored her. "It's just the kiss kind of caught me off guard. Never expected you to plant one on me like that. Heh."

Hearing his answer, it only made sense. Pyrrha understood. She lowered her hands and put on a cheerful naïveté. "Really?"

"Yeah. And, well, it's also kinda..."

"Kinda what, Patroklos?"

"It's just, uh, kinda...kinda..." He found it harder to say what was on his mind. Man, was that unlucky. It didn't take long for his thoughts to shuffle back together, but he still couldn't say what he make sense of what he needed to say. Truthfully, he found it surreal. That was his first kiss with any girl he came across. He never expected it to be from his sister, though. It had to be those lips. The taste of another's lips was intoxicating. The skin was so wondrous, but not tasting it only left so much for the imagination. He only had dreams of what skin could have tasted like. Now that he had a taste, he could willingly say it was nothing short of intoxicating. It was said that it would normally take a person at least ten days to adjust to a new unfamiliar taste. It only took Patroklos a few seconds to adjust to this new taste. No denying he wanted to experience more. "Nothing, Pyrrha," he chuckled as the denounced taboo warning was now flooded in the back of his gathered thoughts. It was no more than a modicum floating in the black storage space of his mind now. "I love you, Pyrrha."

"I love you, too, Patroklos."

He stared deeply into her eyes. She stared back into his, equally as deep. His eye were as green as the leaves of the trees, hers also green like the grassy fields blowing in the winds. With their hands tied around one another, they kissed once more, this time Patroklos becoming more assertive as his hands stroked her hair and back. Pyrrha let herself be showered by his powerful hands cradling her body as their lips gave each other pleasure. He pulled away and held her face to his, smiling. She felt safe with him. In his eyes stood the Hercules longing for the Aphrodite in hers. Now was the time to be attentive of her body, the features that defined her as a woman that deserved to be respected and treated right. She had a soft face, teeming with innocence yet fractured with guilt. Her freckles defined her as it evoked more innocent charm she blushed upon her face. Her body bore a striking resemblance to Sophitia (that was, if the woman figure in his visions was truly his mother), so the respect was mutual. "You're so beautiful, Pyrrha," he spoke soft and sweet as he rested atop her in the grass, cradling and kissing her face and neck.

He's so gentle. It was all she could think – just how gentle he was to her. He was so strong and her hand were heavy, but the touch was so...gentle. He was just gentle. Though passion overtook her, she couldn't hide herself but to the one word she missed so much in her loveless life: gentle. Her body trembled under his touch. She let out a small moan and looked down. His hand trained a bit up her shirt. He was fondling her breasts! He seemed to be getting comfortable with her. This unnerved her, but she remained submissive. She didn't want to him to scare her again. This was too good a moment to be ruined.

Patroklos' other hand wasn't doing much. It merely had its place touching her face. Compared to what it normally could've been occupied with, this was only child's play. Exerting the full berth of his passion required both hands, which was exactly what he needed to do.

"Ah! Patroklos...! Touch me! Feel me!"

Was she that turned on from her breasts being fondled? Or was she just really sensative? Either way, as her brother, he felt obligated to give her whatever her heart desired. He pulled the black glove from his hand free with his mouth and tossed it aside. His hand, now gloveless, navigated down her thigh. He legs became restless as they started to rub together. Whoa, she must have really wanted this, he thought. Or did she? He would never forgive himself for actually fucking his sister if she didn't want it; but it seemed she was obviously overwhelmed by his touch. He honored her request and touched her. His fingers trailed graciously down her calf, then up again to the crook of her leg. He heard her quivering moans ring clearly in his ears – a clear indication. Her skin was so soft and it only got softer as he got closer to her panties. Suddenly, he felt a small wave of heat rumbling from her leg hit his palm. It must have been a woman's vagina, her "special place," the place where the most intense emotions resided. Patroklos had to be careful. Who knew what lurked within her sister's den? First, he made contact by squeezing her buttocks a time or two. Then he moved up to touch her where her panties felt slightly moist. He felt more confident now as she panted harder for his refined hand. He went for broke and slid into her slippery opening.

"Oh! Oh, Patroklos!" she cried. "Keep touching me!" Her toes curled in her boots, her hands clenched on her brother's jacket. She wanted to beg him for more. How she loved him!

He was inside her. He felt movement in her hips now, almost like it was too much for her, yet she accepted it and embraced it strongly. He continued to smother her with love in-between her legs. With his other hand still fondling her breasts, he made a quick squeeze of her nipples. They were incredibly hard. Another lustful cry broke from her shivering lips. Just then, she placed her lips to his again. Their tongues danced together, both of them moaning with passion and a building desire to pleasure one another growing with their sloppy exchange of saliva.

He was incredible. He was more than incredible. This was ethereal. Her pussy was watering for Patroklos' hopefully thick meat. She wanted to pleasure him, but she didn't want to stop him from pleasuring her. Her hands needed to be busy like his, so did her mouth. One hand rubbed his curly blonde hair while the other undid the zipper of his pants and dug in to unhinge his bulge. Her hand gave motion against his flesh – up, down, up, down. Be gentle, she thought. It's what she had to be, just like Patroklos was being to her. Something needed to happen first. She pulled back from the kiss, a saliva strand they shared dispersing from the tips of their tongues, and smiled at him. "Patroklos, may I make you feel good, too?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Go ahead, sis." Patroklos was admittedly a little antsy about Pyrrha's sudden change. By her behavior, it seemed like she'd done this before. He remembered how she cried when he told her that she'd never see her mother again. He hoped nobody broke her heart when he was away. But judging from the amount of tears she shed and how she was behaving, even before this, somebody probably did. Pyrrha suddenly began to gain control over him as she turned him over on the grass. Then, like magic, she was on top of him, her legs spread apart and ass lowered to his face, mouth and hands pleasuring his cock. "Aah…" he moaned. His hands were free again. A wondrous 69. As he dropped her panties, one assumption was unanimous inside: she was pent up. There was someone or something she missed in life or was perhaps stolen from her. It was indeed impossible to know what happened, not to mention reliving those events were also ruled out as impossibility, but it wasn't impossible to remember those moments, even if it was through another person. He'd make those memories bear a powerful resurgence unlike any other.

Her face was stuffed. She dove straight down to engulf his cock down her throat. Her throat expanded by the force of his manhood. A gorgeous circumcised eight incher – this belonged to her younger brother and it was all hers to swallow. She brushed her palm down his scrotum, poking at his asshole and fondling his sagging sack. "Mmmph! More, Mphrotrokoff!" she cried with her mouth full of him. His tongue slipped into her vagina, slurping as he licked her clean. "More! Much more!" How could this be? She was on the verge of tears. Something, someone, somewhere far away unwound inside, surfacing to the centre of everything, a river of peace she once knew. It was uncanny. This nirvanic sensation beseeched release. "Please…" she whimpered. "I-I want you inside me."

"Yes, dear sister," he said. He got a firm grasp of her waist and pulled her close to him. He flipped her onto her back so that their eyes were meeting. It was about to begin. "Really?" he asked as he straddled one leg over his shoulder.

She nodded. His cock was now probing her pussy, moving closer and closer to her balding crotch. It seemed to cry out for liberation. At last, he entered her. Her brother's dick was fucking her pussy. Almost suddenly, she felt her muscles contract and spasm as she let out a strong moan that echoed through the humid forest night.

"May I start moving now?"

"Of course."

"By the way, this is great," he said one last time before moving as she permitted.

"It is," she hissed.

Patroklos began slowly, giving gentle thrusts at a gradual pace. Deep moans escaped his lips. This felt so good, the liquid feel of her vaginal walls squeezing around his thick cock. He couldn't bear to think this would end soon. He'd never felt a sensation this powerful engulf his penis before. He had many dreams about the most beautiful women and how their "special places" felt. He scoffed inside. "Special place?" Rothieon never spoiled him as a warrior, all right. This was a far greater feeling than he'd experienced when they kissed earlier. It was so intoxicating. Mere words couldn't describe it. Being inside another person was so…different. Overtaken by passion's stimuli, he increased his speed slowly and the intensity of his thrusts.

By the Gods! By the Gods! Pyrrha grunted and groaned with all her might. The sensation ran down her leg and up her thigh, siphoning to her chest where her heart itself opened up. It was getting hot not. She wasted no time undoing her blouse. Her breasts revealed themselves to Patroklos, bouncing wonderfully against his manly thrusts. They were of moderate size, c-cup, rounded and curved with brilliant symmetry, like a beautiful valentine. It's happening. I can feel it. Is it…?

His face dripped with sweat. With every thrust he felt them getting closer and closer. The feel of their flesh smacking together was too good, absolutely delicious. He was taking her to a new high, a new level of ecstasy until they were climbing, climbing higher towards the point of no return. It awaited them both. Patroklos removed his scaled jacket, revealing to her his sweltering pectorals and his firm build.

This was it. She saw him as clear as day. Once her eyes gazed upon her brother's rippling body, she had no choice. Under the moonlight, his manly form glowed under the sweat perspiring about him. His abs pulsated, his pecs rumbled with the pounding of his wolf heart beneath his chest, his arms like locomotives giving his hands the strength to love, his face the symbol of virtuosity and incorruptible resolve – she remembered. This love, it wasn't gone. Her body felt like it was on fire. She freed her leg from his shoulder and arched up to hug him. Her head rested on his shoulder as she let the calls of her name press her to her orgasm.

"Pyrrha! God, Pyrrha! I love you!"

"I love you, too! Oh, my…!"

"I-I'm gonna cum, Pyrrha!"

"Me, too! Let's come together!"

"Y-yes! As one!"

They were together. Into each other's eyes they stared, breathing life back without regret or hesitation. Their hands curled together lovingly as they panted in perfect unison. The force of his sterling manhood ravaging her pussy brought her to the breaking point. Sweet warmth ran down her spine, tickling her body. It was serene, heavenly, and it finally found her after so long. Her entire body quivered as she yelled out her brother's name one last time. Jurgis, she said calmly inside, it wasn't me. I would have made the best wife. May the gods keep you safe in the afterlife.

After it was all said and done, they collapsed in one another's arms. "Patroklos, how did I do?"

"You did great, sis."

Pyrrha looked up. She could still see the moon. It was still bright and full in the sky. She looked back at him with her eyes glimmering. Tears joyfully flowed down her cheeks. "Patroklos?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like looking at the moon?"

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Well, when you weren't able to take care of me, when you weren't there, an elderly couple raised me when I was a child. Since I didn't know my mom, they were taking care of me. They were the closest thing I had to a family before. I loved them, especially the elderly man. If we had a father, he would've been out grandfather. He was that loving. Growing up, they were all I had. When he started getting sick, I worried about his health. He told me not to worry, though, that everything was going to be okay. He said that whenever I feel sad or worried or if things get too hard, I should look up at the moon and think about everyone in my life and everything I can make worth fighting for. I never quite understood what he meant. Do you know, Patroklos?"

Whoever this man was, he was indeed very wise. That was a fantastic parable. He was impressed how he could see the moon for a great source of divine purity and use it as a personification of the darkness failing to engulf the light struggling to endure. Brilliant. He hoped this man was still alive somewhere so he could ask for some advice of his own. "I can help with that, Pyrrha. That's easy. But did he say something about the stars, too?"

"I think so."

"Good. Think about the darkness that once held you in its grasp. Remember how strong it was? Now think about the darkness of the night sky and envision it as the darkness inside. Feel how large and vast it was?"

"I do..."

He heard that sudden decline in pitch. She sounded very reluctant to talk about this. It was a sensitive subject to discuss since it wasn't that long ago that the same darkness almost made her slaughter her only brother. He would respect her and neglect to drag the topic on any longer. "Sorry. I forgot. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I understand."

"No, no, it's fine. Please go on. I'd like to know what he meant."

He respected her candor. Out of respect for her feelings, he promised to explain the parable's meaning, and then drop the subject right there. He didn't feel she was ready to fully accept her weaknesses yet. "You said he mentioned stars, too, right? What he meant was that the stars represent the many different people in your life – good people and even bad people – and the moon, or even more specifically the moonlight, is the light that's alive in the massive pool of darkness that's corrupting. Basically, the moon is the light inside us and the stars are the people surrounding us to make that light stronger. Understand?"

"Yes, I do; but it's too bad I don't have anyone in my life to make that light stronge," she said as she rested her head on his chest.

Patroklos petted her head softly and reassured her of the truth. "You have me."