See end for author's notes.
Stubbornly, I remained hidden near the gate waiting for the young woman to depart the castle. Minutes became hours and soon the day had wasted away and the sun sat low in the sky. Yet still, she had not exited the palace. Resigned, I sighed and began my trek to guard station just inside the gates. Whether it was anxiety or nervousness - both foreign emotions for me - that caused me to delay in entering the palace, I did not know. All I knew was that I both dreaded and looked forward to officially meeting the King and Queen of Dagez.
Two guards were positioned directly to my left inside the gates, and noting the unusual uniform I wore - certainly not that of Dagez, halted my progression. This had been expected and deftly I withdrew the letter from the King of Tyr, with the royal emblem pressed into the wax, and extended it in my hand for them to view. "Good eve. I bring a message for the King and Queen of Dagez from His Highness King Vanir of the lands of Tyr."
Having noted the royal emblem, they nodded towards one another and beckoned that I follow them with a wave of the taller guard's hand. "Follow me," he stated simply.
Nodding, I fell in line behind the taller guard, while the older but shorter man remained behind. Together we walked through the greenery of the courtyard, under the stone arch of the entrance, and turned towards what I could only assume to be the throne room. The younger man turned towards me again, "Please wait here as I announce you to His Majesty."
Without waiting a reply, the man pulled open the heavy door and slipped inside. As I waited, my mind began considering what lay beyond the doors. Was the Queen on the other side? Would she be the same woman I saw outside the walls feeding the less fortunate? Could the woman possibly be a servant - maybe within the Queen's service, and perhaps this was why she had been mistaken as the woman who had so recently moved from Princess to Queen?
I had not heard of anyone in my world that had mated with a human - would she – whoever she turned out to be - have a similar reaction? Would she even acknowledge me? Worry began to seep into my normally calm mind - that my mate might not feel the same as I did, that perhaps she would want nothing to do with me.
Although, if the woman and the Queen were one in the same, the feeling might even be mutual.
I heard Yakov - his voice permanently etched in my memory from my previous visit - summon his wife and I could feel my dead heart almost begin to beat with anticipation. The shuffle of boots as someone - an attendant or perhaps a guard, left the room from another exit to communicate the summons. Silently, I waited as the moments ticked by, waited for the sound of her entering the room, waited for her voice to acknowledge her husband. Nothing happened. Some time had passed before the servant returned with reply from the Queen that she was not coming.
Shock passed through me at the idea of the Queen not coming when summoned. Who was this woman? Was it ego that allowed her to not only deny her husband, but also risk both their reputations with the disobedience? Was it laziness that prevented her from attending? Why would she not come? Yakov seemed unaffected by the response - perhaps she had denied him previously? Before I could ponder that information further, I heard boots draw closer to the door, signaling someone's approach.
The guard returned and opened the door wide for me to enter through. "His Majesty will see you," he stated and again waved me through the entrance with his hand. What of the Queen? Breathing deeply, I inclined my head and walked through the doors. My boots echoed loudly in the room as my long legs carried me - painfully slow - to the platform that held two thrones. One throne, the smaller of the two, sat empty and with the motes of dust that had gathered - I assumed it had not been used in some time. Does she deny him often? On the second throne, Yakov sat looking bored and disinterested with his surroundings.
Upon reaching his throne, I bowed with my eyes lowered, and introduced myself. "Good eve Your Majesty. I carry with me a message from His Majesty, King Vanir of Tyr." Again I extended my arm with the sealed message that I knew offered me as a wedding present to the new King and Queen of Dagez. Gesturing to one of the guards within the throne room, Yakov nodded his head as the guard retrieved the message and placed it in his hand. Long fingers ripped the scroll where the wax had melded the message together and after slowly unrolling the paper, began to read the message.
A present? Why? Father and I had not discussed the Kingdom of Tyr. Why would they get involved when they have remained silent for so long? Yakov's brow creased, his eyebrows drew downwards as he read and re-read the missive, as if his scrutiny could change the words that were penned before him. He forced himself to breathe in and out slowly as he contemplated his options. If I killed this servant outright, would the King of Tyr know? Stealing a glance over the top of the paper, his eyes darted to where I stood - still bowed at the waist and considered the potential ramifications should he eliminate me and whether my King would be insulted.
The man was clearly distrustful, as he should be with such suspect circumstances moving him from betrothed - albeit arranged - to the princess to now her husband and the King. As he considered his own options, I also flitted through my own - should the coward before me decide to attempt to eliminate me, my own hand would be forced and I cursed the fact that I could not reach Alice, our vølur, to see the consequences of that decision.
Abruptly, Yakov's mind went in another direction. I can place him with Izabel. Should word travel back to King Vanir, it should appease him that I have accepted his gift and he will not be a threat in a woman's service. The corners of Yakov's mouth turned upwards as he considered this path - my usefulness should he acquire loyalty from me and my inability to harm him while in his wife's service.
Keeping my own composure while I listened in on his thoughts, I was secretly pleased with the change of events. It would give me the opportunity to meet the Queen - hopefully in a more private setting, and once (hopefully) eliminated as my mate, would allow me more freedom to search for the identity of the mystery woman from the gates.
"Rise," Yakov stated. "Welcome to Dagez," he paused and looked back down at the message, presumably for my name, "Jarpr. You will be assigned as the House Karl for my wife, Her Majesty and will work with her maidens to ensure the smooth operations of her quarters. Do you have any combat training?"
I considered how best to answer his question. Due to his weariness and mistrust, I felt that it would be better to admit to some combat training, but certainly not anywhere near the real extent of my abilities or knowledge - definitely not a good idea to admit to how very lethal I could be. "Some, Your Majesty," I answered.
"Good," he replied, "part of your duties will include the protection of Her Majesty as well." Nodding towards one of the attendants seated to the side of the throne room he continued, "Aaron will escort you to the Queen's chambers. Find him afterwards for assignment to your own quarters."
Understanding that I had been dismissed, I turned and allowed the older attendant - Aaron, to lead me out of the throne room. Silently, I followed behind him as I reached into his thoughts. Surprisingly, his mind was as blank as any human could have, with only surface thoughts of menial tasks he needed to complete prior to the King's evening meal. The only thought that stood out for me was that the King and Queen did not dine together, as Aaron did not oversee any preparations for a meal together but rather the meal Yakov took in his own chambers with a select concubine.
Winding through the halls I allowed my own thoughts to drift as I walked achingly slow behind the older man. Over and over I asked myself what I would do if the Queen and the young woman outside the walls were one in the same. The stories that had reached Tyr regarding the young Queen painted the image of a woman I would loathe to associate with, let alone with which to share eternity. In my limited interactions with mated couples, I had yet to see the matches not be compatible. Would it be my luck, my fate, that I would be the first to experience an unwanted matching? My skin crawled as I considered an eternity of loneliness, to know my own mate was out there - that I knew she lived and where, and yet despised her and everything she embodied.
Laziness.
Apathy.
Selfishness.
Had I truly been mated to such a creature?
Over time, my family had monitored Dagez, had listened to the news that reached Tyr – whether through conventional or unconventional means, and while the men who sat on the throne and led their people changed – one thing had not: Kiev's sincerity, innate goodness, and his dedication to the Norse code, it seemed had been passed down to each new generation of rulers. Dagez was a steady kingdom, one in which the King lived amongst his people, protected them, and the Queen was the heart, someone who nurtured both the lands and the families during both the summer and the winter of time. Yet, sometime after the death of Queen Renata, the young princess had withdrawn from the people. Initially, when whispers reached our ears of the princess who shut herself away, we had understood. The girl had just lost her mother, and at such an important age, it was normal for a girl to want privacy for her time of mourning. Her father, Karl, had remained strong – though the news included glimpses of his grief, he had remained with the people. He had grieved with them for his lost wife; he had doubled his efforts it seemed to not only be their protector, but their heart as well.
The girl, Izabel, had made no such efforts. Days and weeks bled into months and then years, and all that we had heard of her was the gossip from parties and events.
Shallow.
That was how we thought of the young princess. A young woman who had selfishly abandoned her father to his grief, who had abandoned her mother's work, who spent her time at parties and gatherings – not the strong women we had become accustomed to from Kiev's lineage.
When the announcements had come within a day of each other – that Karl had died and that Izabel was to wed and ascend the throne, the anger had been white hot for the family. Their thoughts had peaked into a roar pressed against me, their emotions crashed upon my brother as he tried to sooth the raw nerves. The time had arrived, whatever would bring ruin and death to both our lands, had surely arrived and it all seemed to center on one selfish, spoiled, shallow girl.
That girl would not be my center, I refused to allow her an inch in my existence – mating bond be damned. The very thought of her disgusted me and yet, the loneliness I had lived with for so very long ached within me. My mate – a spoiled child I wanted nothing to do with.
The best I could hope for was that her identity had been mistaken. Although that would not explain the shock that had colored her face when the old woman had formerly addressed her by title. Yet, I hoped that it was not that girl and instead someone, anyone else.
It seemed too soon that we had paused outside the Queen's chambers. No guard stood post at her doorway and I found that annoyed me. Internally I scoffed at myself – not willing to give an inch of concern for her. Aaron cleared his throat and began explaining the Queen's routine to me: her early morning routines and retirements, large amounts of time spent walking in her family's garden maze, and evening massages. "This has been a fairly recent development, mostly since her wedding to His Majesty," Aaron explained, "However, as her House Karl, you will need to ensure that either someone arrives each evening to heat the oils and massage her or will need to perform this yourself." Though he paused externally, his thoughts practically shouted at me regarding his thoughts about me administering the Queen's nightly massage. Inappropriate was the word he thought over and over.
My face remained impassive as I inquired, "Has someone already performed her massage this evening? Or is there someone I need to see to ensure it is taken she is attended?"
Aaron frowned, "No one has taken care of her massage this evening. The oils are located within her bedchamber and she is probably waiting for someone to come this eve. Are you able to take care of this?"
"Yes."
Briskly he replied, "Then see to it. I will take my leave for now. Come find me later in the throne room for assignment for your quarters." Then he turned on his heel and departed. Inhaling deeply, I mentally prepared myself for the meeting with the Queen, all the while reminding myself she may not be the same woman I had observed earlier that afternoon.
I pushed against the door and crossed the threshold into the main room. To the left - I assumed - her maidens' chambers, to the right two heavy doors that presumably led to her bedchambers, and in the center was a sitting room with a hearth. I closed the door behind me and walked to the right. On the other side of the doors I heard the distinct sound of someone breathing, and pushed open the doors to enter the Queen's bedchamber.
Placed in the middle of the room was a large bed littered with linens and pillows, and upon the bed a sheet covered a distinctly feminine outline. With my entrance, a draft passed through the doorway and I could see the woman shiver. The light from the hearth nestled in the wall outlined her shape and I felt my body's reaction. Every sense burned brightly, totally engulfed by her. Muscles bunched and tensed in anticipation, venom flooded my mouth as her blood sang sweetly from across the room, and I felt myself harden as her smell wafted over me.
Yet, I fought myself. Justified my reactions - she had sweet smelling blood and the demon's primal instincts had reacted. Blood lust and lust were commonly associated together during a kill, and with tempting blood that sang so sweetly to me with only a sheet covering I assumed her naked or near naked form, I could understand why my body had reacted. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Long legs carried me closer to the edge of her bed, my steps seeming loud to my sensitive ears. Despite my earlier negative feelings towards the young Queen, I found myself not wanting to startle the woman and announced myself to her, "Ahem, Your Highness."
Slowly, she turned her head towards me, a curtain of dark tresses and familiar features. The woman from the wall and the woman in the bed were one in the same. My mate. With my nearness to her, I could feel the tug intensify and had I any previous doubts as to who she was to me, they were gone – dashed and crushed - in that moment.
Equal parts elation and rage built in me. I had found her. I did not have to be alone anymore. She could be mine. Her beauty was staggering – dark waves that fell past her shoulders that framed a heart shaped face with a plump bottom lip. The sheets outlined her frame in intimate detail, the graceful lines of her shoulders and the warm flesh that peeked from the tops of the sheets, then the sloping line down from her shoulders to the base of her spin, and then a swell covered by more linens and blankets. Soulful eyes focused on me, beautiful in their dark depths that seemed to stretch on like a night sky.
Her eyes traveled the length of my frame; I could sense the slight change in her as she drank me in. Fear - not the tangy fear that humans often had when in such close proximity with my kind, but rather something slightly different. Perhaps better described as worry or anxiety, but of what I was unsure. "Sir, these are my private rooms, may I inquire why you are here?" She did a fine job keeping her voice steady, but I could hear the slight tremor in her voice, instantly awakening my sense of protection and anger at whatever was the cause of her fear - even if I was the source. Forcefully, I pushed the feelings down - the demon demanding I allow my instincts to rule me. My instincts to both protect and take the woman before me that with every fiber of my being recognized as mine. Swallowing thickly, I fought my body for control, to use my advantages to put her at ease.
"I do apologize Your Highness," and I bowed again at the waist as I had with her husband, hoping the familiar action would begin to calm her. "My name is Jarpr, and I am a servant from the realm of Tyr. I have been sent here as a wedding present from King Vanir. The throne has sent me here to assist you. I will be your servant."
She clutched at the thin sheet and pulled it impossibly closer to her body. Her brow drew down as her teeth worried her bottom lip. Worry. Definitely worried about something.
"Errr, thank you, however all of my servants are women, outside of personal guards, I really do not have any male servants nor would it be appropriate for me to take any." She attempted an apologetic smile – her attempt to effectively dismiss me.
That will not do. The demon inside me had already acknowledged the woman before me – even if I still warred with myself to reconcile who she was and who she was to me. The demon however, was beyond caring. Thousands of years he had waited for the moment when our mate joined us, then to have her within arms reach, her body warm and inviting, her blood a sweet tune that drifted in the air and drenched every sense in its seduction. The need to touch her, kiss her, worship every inch of her body overwhelming and it demanded to be slaked, to be satisfied - but I was still me and pushed back the urges that threatened to overtake my sanity. The other part of myself that I had maintained an iron grip of control over screamed inside of me that embodied deep down, what I really was, but never who I was. Earlier concerns about who the woman before me really was - compassionate or cruel, caring or apathetic, shallow or selfless still resounded in my mind and I knew I needed to know her. Beyond her beauty, her alluring smell, and the relentless tug that pulled us together.
Refusing to be dismissed by her, to loose any opportunity to discover the answers to my silent questions, I spoke again - lied easily and without thought to her, "Ah, my lady, but I am a eunuch, you need not have concerns about me. Surely you have been served by eunuchs before?" I bowed again at the waist, but could not resist the opportunity to maintain the eye contact I had established with her while smirking at her attempt to dismiss me. You will not get rid of me that easily, young Queen.
"Oh, of course," she murmured, her previous objections forgotten if the dazed look on her face was any indication. Once more I reached out to touch her mind, and again was met with utter silence. Hoping that perhaps contact with her would allow me to break through her defenses, I stood and moved closer to her, my hands stretched out, itching to touch her. "Milady, are you ready for your massage?" I asked as I reached for the heated massage oils located on the table near her bed.
"Yes, thank you," she replied and then turned her head away from me, momentarily breaking the spell between us.
Quickly I moved the oils to her bedside and then slowly sat on the bed near her. I could smell the scent of her skin and hear the thrum of a wet heartbeat as it pumped her lovely blood through her body. All that separated my skin from hers was the thin sheet settled along her form. Careful not to touch her skin to mine yet I peeled the sheet down and tucked it securely along her hips. I wanted to be able to relish the first time our skin touched and the sensation that I knew would follow.
I poured the heated oils onto her back; rubbed my hands together to create some warmth and then touched the palms of my hands, the tips of my fingers, to the soft flesh of her back.
The reaction was instant for me. The hum at that first contact was deafening in my ears, the sensation of being home, and the overpowering want that surged through my body practically crippling. Why had I lied to her about being a eunuch? Impossibly, I felt myself harden even more as my body relished the feeling of skin-to-skin contact. Images bombarded my mind of flipping her over to her back and ravishing her mouth while my hands roamed freely about her body, tearing the sheet away to discover the pleasures beneath, discovering every inch of heated skin and secret spot to make her cry out from pleasure. Fuck the consequences. I wanted her - very badly, and my body warred with my mind. Matters were not helped when my senses drank in her body's instant reaction to my touch. Her breathing quickened and the faint smell of arousal wafted in the air. To what extent she had felt the connection was unsure, but was sure she had felt it on some level.
My fingers gently pulled the muscles along her spine, applied the lightest of pressures so as not to injure her in any way. Was she aware of the sounds she made? Her sighs and almost silent moans had my body almost raw from want. I could feel the tension begin to melt away from her limbs as I continued, almost moaning myself at the rightness of the feel of my flesh against hers.
"How did you learn to do this?" she asked, her voice husky.
The image of my maker appeared in my mind. I had been his first companion and he had sought to teach me all that he knew, every piece of information he had collected. While some information he had taught me verbally, or through texts he had collected – other information had been conveyed silently. That knowledge was passed from his mind to my own, he would free his thoughts, focus on what it was that he had wanted to teach me, and I would learn through his perfect recall. The knowledge of how to perform the massage for the young Queen had been learned just that way. Before he had opened his mind to me, he had explained how he had obtained the information nearly half a world away.
Once my maker had accepted his fate, he had traveled the world in search of knowledge, in search of an answer to the one resounding question that had plagued him. Why? Why had he been made a demon? Why had he been cursed for with immortality? Without the need to breathe, to rest, to even eat as humans ate – he had restlessly traveled from one land to another, in search for the ends of the earth beneath his feet, in search of answers he prayed he would find.
Instead, he had traveled to a small village, one he had shown me in his mind once. Surrounded by beautiful yet lethal mountains, capped in ice that kissed the sky, a small village of the Sherpa sat nestled next to a lake made of glass. He had been shocked that any mortal could live in such conditions, so far above the land, where the air had been so thin that surly it was nearly impossible to breathe. Yet, the Sherpa had lived in near isolation, their temple and village, hidden from the rest of the world. As my maker had immersed himself in their culture, relatively difficult for any outsider, yet with the charms of our kind an easier accomplished feat, he had learnt of the Verdas.
I explained a more acceptable version of the story, "Generations ago, while upon a journey of self-exploration, King Vanir discovered puruşātha, which teaches us the four pursuits of life, one of which is sensual pleasure. In this teaching, we learn about sensual touch – or massages." Kama, the pursuit I shared, was without sexual connotations, I found that the passion and pleasure of the senses, easily crossed over to more intimate gratification.
"That is amazing, as a serf that you received such an education. Have you always been a servant or did that come later?"
I chuckled low in my throat. Always a servant? I thought back to my mortal life, a slave whipped and chained by the invaders, the cruel men who would later fall after my change. A servant? A slave? I had been both, and as our world evolved, as we had moved from the shadows in the night, to something else, those terms had come to mean something new to me. "I have always been a servant," I shook my head and returned attention to her back, all lines and sinew beneath my probing fingers. My fingers reached and pulled at the muscles lower on the sides of her back, dangerously close to the sides of her chest. A low moan escaped her lips; her skin was painted crimson along her cheeks, her throat, and the soft swell of her breasts. Mercifully, I could not actually see the color racing along her flesh – but I could smell the blood and feel the heat of it rushing to the surface.
The monster raged within me, viciously screamed and clawed from the inside as the sweet aroma filled our senses. Feed. Drink. Take! It demanded action, it demanded to be satisfied and I knew my control was rapidly slipping through my fingers. The air was thick with the tension and silence between us – I did not want to leave, but knew that I had to escape, had to clear my head, hunt, and regain control of myself. "How does your back feel, Highness?" I whispered, my voice was guttural and hoarse.
"Fine. Better. It feels better now, thank you Jarpr."
I forced myself to rise, to put some distance between us. Almost too late, I remembered that I had a part to play, that my mission and the role demanded specific actions – such as requesting leave from the Queen, not simply leaving because I was about to loose all control. Focused on getting out, away from the temptation, I turned back towards her and asked, "Is there anything else you require my Queen?"
Her reaction to my question, the hot surge of her blood, the quick intake of her breath, the way she looked at me with her wide eyes, confirmed for me that she had felt something between us. Something very tangible, something real enough that her earlier fear had been pushed aside and the thought of separating caused her anxiety. At least, I hoped that it was the connection she felt, hoped that it was the reason behind her reaction to a mundane question. Again, she quickly reigned in her reactions, and had I been mortal may have even questioned I had actually seen the whirlwind of emotion unfold before me. Evenly she answered me, "No, you may leave."
Before the beast could break free, before I could give into the urges clawing inside my head, I turned and retreated as quickly as possible. Yet, when I reached the door, I was unable to resist one final glance back to her. She had shifted in the bed, turned to her side, long arms stretched upwards to cradle her head, her dark locks fanned out on the linens.
Beautiful.
Tempting.
Mine.
Hoarsely, I whispered the first thought that came to my mind, "I will you in the morrow." Then with a quick turn of my heel, I raced from chambers.
Author's Notes: Hi everyone! **waives** As I worked and re-worked Ginnungagap these past two years, I've gone through and written chapters from JPOV to help me fill in gaps (otherwise I had this huge file marked "Historical Notes / Story Notes" where I tried to keep all the backstory items in line with the story as it unfolded). After moving them to their own files "GIN CH1 Meeting JPOV" was how this was originally titled), I've started to clean them up and polish them off for their own story.
With that said, the chapters I have written for this one - it's not just a retelling of Ginnungagap from Jarpr's POV. Yep, there'll be scenes (like this one) that overlap between both stories, but also remember that Jarpr would be gone for days or would seem to know things (remember his dislike for Lief? Ever wonder WHY? Well you know, besides the obvious...) - that's where this story takes us. And you may notice that some of Jarpr's questions are answered in Ginnungagap and some of Isabel's answered here.
For this story, current timeline puts us around late spring/early summer of 1016 AD. The timeline for the entire story (not exactly flashbacks but we will be learning about Jarpr's history and that of his family) actually moves us into 200 or so BC era.
Any ideas where "the maker" went to learn of the Verdas? Purusartha is originally found in the Verdas, which are ancient scriptures that are considered apauruseya ("not of man, superhuman"). What is interesting is that the Verdas is amongst the oldest sacred text, grouped with say the Torah. Purusartha is about the four goals or pursuits of man, and these will come into play throughout the rest of the story, so be on the lookout. (And speaking of themes - you may notice that there's a lot of varying culture and beliefs mentioned in these stories. I didn't just randomly select these, but when we look back at history at that time, there was a lot of cross pollinating of beliefs as people were invaded, or traveled from land to another, etc.)
Not sure if you find the history notes interesting - hope so! :-) I've tried to ground a lot of this story in real history to give it a more authentic feel. At the end of the day, it's fiction and I'm having fun with it. So there might be some items out of place, out of time - that kind of thing.
Let me know what you think! 3 reviews. :-)