}!{
The Kingsroad Inn
Fenne tentatively sipped from the elixir of shimmering red that her savior graciously provided her, feeling the magic rush through her bones and mend the wounds she suffered at the hands of the priests. She counted herself lucky that they were in such a hurry for a confession that they skipped the lengthy torture and just loaded her up into a cart for her execution. She heard stories of how they broke men on the wheel or crushed their limbs in the screw presses. Women had to suffer the worse indignities, providing sport for their disciples to ravish for weeks. Not so different from how the Hierarch treated her and the other 'toys' he kept locked up in the room.
The woman glanced up as Sir Reyncourt entered the room carrying a bundle of new clothes for her to change in. He took one look at her and gestured for Fenne to return the potion to him. A sip or two was all it took to heal her minor injuries, no more. Every elixir cost a fortune, and Reyncourt would waste none of it- not that he needed it personally per se. Some wounded fellow somewhere or sometime would have need of it.
The knight stood at the far corner and kept his back to her as he removed some pieces of his armor to inspect the damages done to them. Ever the chivalrous man, he let the woman have her moment to change. But Fenne had other plans. Twice now he'd saved her. To call herself grateful would be an understatement, she wouldn't part from him without proper compensation.
"My lord..." She called to him, rising from the bed to let slip the fur blanket she was wrapped in. Along with it fell the remnants of her soiled and torn dress.
Reyncourt turned to see her walk over to him in all her naked splendor. Again, he was dumbfounded as his eyes drank in the intoxicating sight of her succulent curves and divine beauty. Her long supple legs strutted about the wooden floor with a commanding certainty, her wide hips swayed with titillating grace while her perfectly shaped breasts bounced with every step. Such a goddess couldn't possibly be from a scummy brothel like the Harpy. She would've fit in better with the sisters of Melitele, pretty and chaste like all the women of the temple. She was indeed pretty, but far from chaste. Below the perfect curvature of her breasts, her midriff wore the intricate tattoos of Skelligean iconography, while a Nilfgaardian sun orbited her navel. A ring of thorns circled her right thigh like a bracelet, with some of the words 'forever free' written in ancient elvish.
Reyncourt averted his gaze, his face all red. The woman shook her head and pressed her breasts together. She leaned inward seductively, "Why? Don't you like me this way?"
"Please, I didn't bring you here for that." Reyncourt refused to look at her and waved a panic-stricken hand.
Smiling, she closed the distance and placed a hand on his cheek to force him to look at her. His hesitant gaze found its way to hers and he listened as her voice grew soft. "I owe you everything, sir. But this is all I have; this is all I could give. I have no money."
Reyncourt sighed and took her hands in his. The man's eyes remained firmly closed. "I ask for no reward. I refuse to put you in that position, Fenne. I am not... I am not like those men; I will not take that which is not mine to take. It's just wrong."
"It's not, if it's freely given." He felt her pull his hands to touch her breasts, and suddenly they were filled with warm softness. She wanted him, "Don't make me beg."
There went the last of his restraint. Reyncourt let her kiss him as he removed his armor. Fenne helped him undress and took a moment to appreciate the hard valleys that formed his chest and stomach. A faint glow where his heart should be caught her attention. When she placed her hands on him, she felt the warmth of a fire burning inside him. This was the fabled heart of St. Vandal, the source of Reyncourt's power. She spread her legs invitingly, welcoming him in as he followed her doggedly. Rey smelled of death and fire, more of a barbarian's trait than a knight's, but the woman didn't care. She reveled in his attentions as he worshipped her body. What he didn't kiss, he groped and caressed. And when he kissed, he left a burning trail of desire that set her skin alight. Fenne writhed and moaned as his lips found their way onto her sex. His hands brushed against her inner thighs and traveled upward to trace the slim surface of her belly. That sinful knight's tongue tasted her, showing a skill he didn't learn from just anywhere.
"How...?" Fenne began breathlessly as he loomed over her.
"I grew up among whores." Reyncourt revealed, planting a kiss on her lips. Fenne tasted herself in his mouth, and she felt herself grow moist as he reached down to attend to her aching loins. "They taught me a thing or two about what women want."
Fenne gasped when he rubbed her in all the right places, stirring her honeypot till it frothed at the brim. She shook with tiny but violent tremors as he pushed her closer to her sweet release. Reyncourt flung the glistening juices from his hand and grasped his throbbing member. Seeing that she was more than ready for him, he lowered himself onto her and let her adjust to his girth. Fenne cried out as her walls stretched, her legs spread wider and further from her body the deeper he went. The knight ploughed her, choosing the pace to sate the howling hellcat writhing beneath him. The woman looked up at Rey's labored sweaty expression as he made love to her. She clung to the strong oaken arms he'd propped his weight on, her roaming hands exploring the raw masculine power radiating from them. Her eyes took in the smooth movements of his hips, the way they almost effortlessly swung up and down, delivering each thrust with a hefty gusto and she smiled to herself.
Here was a man who knew what he was doing.
Fenne lazily rolled to her side at Reyncourt's bidding. He spooned up against her and grabbed clumsily at her breasts. They were the object of his desires, and he mauled the soft mounds. The woman moaned and heaved an exhausted gasp as he brought her sweet release. She arched her back and reached back to touch his sweaty face. Her essence spilled in glistening rivers. The tremors came and went, leaving Fenne rather sensitive to Reyncourt's seemingly relentless ministrations. Soon, however, his movements started to slow and became desperate. The knight uttered a long throaty moan. Fenne let Rey mark her with his seed and reveled in the primal satisfaction that came with it. Her lovely orifice, so tender and bruised, leaked freely when he moved away from her.
Sometime later, Rey lay casually among the pillows with a lovely woman lying across his legs, milking him for all he was worth. His hand reached out to touch her shapely bum, then traversed the moist apex between her glorious cheeks. Fenne was in a state of total bliss, but it didn't last. She wanted that moment to be more than just her expression of gratitude. He would have to protect her; she couldn't imagine anyone else doing a better job at it.
"My lord, a moment?" The woman crawled up to rest her head on his shoulder.
"Yes, Fenne?"
"Will you let me stay with you?
Reyncourt gazed down at her beautiful blue eyes and saw the guarded happiness shimmering in those mesmerizing orbs. There was hope in her voice too, but there was little of his to give. Not enough to keep her. "Stay where? I have no home yet, just an empty plot of land. I can offer little else than a warm bed and my sword for protection. You would be better off with one of the more prosperous nobles in Cintra. There are better men than I; I know some who are good friends of mine from the war, and I could introduce you to them."
"Other men, yes. Better, no. You are not those men, you told me so."
"I suppose I did."
Fenne looked at him seriously, "I beg of you, don't even think of sending me away. I see men like them all my life, they are cruel at heart, vile and ugly. Do that and you will condemn me to another creature like the Hierarch. I met you for less than a day and I see a righteous man, blessed with the divine fire of the gods. Another woman would've wanted you for your strength, your gold, or your power. I want you for who you are, and I will have you."
She made it sound like he didn't have a choice. So brief a time they'd been together, and every moment they shared Reyncourt fell deeper in love with Fenne. He kissed her, she kissed him back. "Not my strength, not even my gold, eh? I wonder what it is that compels you to want me so badly?"
"Your god-cock maybe." Fenne whispered mischievously, pushing him back to mount him for another lengthy romp in the bedroom. She offered herself to him again, binding her fate to his.
"Oh Fenne, you wild beautiful thing!" Reyncourt moaned, grabbing her thighs as he was once again enveloped in her warm softness. The two never left the room, having locked the door and only answering for the service of food and drink. The exasperated innkeeper tolerated the noise because of Reyncourt's generous compensation. The worries for the repercussions of the knight's actions against the Church were swept aside for a night of ribald passion.
City of Cintra
The Royal Palace
Averon's mouth twisted into a grimace. He and the queensguard had formed up around the royal family, shields locked together with no gaps between and spears ready to start stabbing. He barely had any time to process what just happened. All he knew was that the competition for the princess' hand had turned violent. The delegates, the dignitaries and the guests transformed the banquet into a bloody brawl. Spurned suitors drew knives, forks and cleavers as they rushed a certain visitor from Erlenwald who went by the name of Lord Urcheon. The witcher and a couple other warriors fended them off, resulting in several maimed assailants and a dozen dead.
Pavetta foolishly broke out of the shield wall to protect Urcheon, who turned out to be her secret lover. It wasn't a secret anymore, everyone knew by then and when tempers are hot, men just see red. The guests will care little for the princess' station, if she was an obstacle she would be struck down like all the rest. Averon bellowed above the din, "Queensguard, forward! Protect the princess!"
The guardsmen only had barely a day of drilling, but for the little time they had, they managed to find some semblance of teamwork when facing the mob. They marched forward, letting the sea of bodies break upon their shields. A little poke here and there got a few of the rampaging guests to calm down real quick, and they dispersed along with the womenfolk who were clinging to the pillars of the banquet hall. The queensguard surrounded Pavetta, who was holding to Lord Urcheon's bloody hands. The hedgehog-faced mutant snarled and brandished a short dagger in his shaky hand. The delegates of Skellige rallied to Eist Tuirseach, while the witcher stood with his steel sword at the ready.
The guests outnumbered them, and in the midst of the chaos the princess suddenly threw everyone off-balance with a powerful burst of magic. Averon spun around and bent one knee, planting his feet firmly to the tiled floor with his shield and spear thrust down to anchor him in place. The witcher used his signs, covering himself and Urcheon in a protective bubble. Pavetta hovered in the air, her white mane flowing like the rays of the sun, eyes aglow with the Source. Her display of the gifts of the Elder Blood wasn't entirely new to the Cintrans, but this was the first time Averon had seen the princess in that state. Lady Belen the court sorceress, along with the druid Ermion, used their abilities to calm the princess and bring her back down safely.
All thoughts towards violence were soundly arrested as the Cintran soldiers started pouring into the banquet hall. Though Queen Calanthe disapproved of Pavetta's secret trysts with the unwanted guest, she was justly furious for the boorish behavior displayed in her hall that night. Suddenly apologetic, the guests begged for the queen's forgiveness. They pointed to the dead and wounded, declaring that they had been punished enough. Unconvinced, Calanthe ordered the guests to be watched and turned to handle the issue regarding her daughter. The cursed mutant, Urcheon, planned to wed the princess and he would do so with or without the queen's permission.
Not exactly the smartest thing to say to a monarch who could have his head on a pike on a whim, but Urcheon had Pavetta under his spell and was protected to some extent. The princess was in love, and as much as Calanthe hated to admit it, once Pavetta had her mind set on something there was no changing it. Reluctantly, the queen acquiesced to her daughter's plea and had a priest brought into the palace. A hastily arranged wedding was to take place at the north tower, as scenic enough a place as any. Half-Leaf and Dandelion got to play another part, this time to commemorate the joyous affair between two souls to be bound in holy matrimony. Calanthe had to forget about alliances for the night, regrettably. She hoped she could at least salvage the situation once the ordeal had passed.
While everyone else was occupied with the wedding ceremony, Averon received word from a messenger who worked with him in the Legion. Usually when on the job, Averon would just leave the news for later to focus on his tasks, but when the messenger mentioned his half-brother's name he couldn't pass it up. "Yeah? Make it quick."
"Sorry, Averon. Rey's in trouble, and I mean big trouble. Word on the street says that he killed the Hierarch and slaughtered a bunch of their priests outside the city walls. Church is all riled up and calling for his head, but the watch hadn't gone after him yet. Won't be long now till they send their zealots out knocking on every door in Cintra."
"What the hell?" Averon gasped, "Killing the Hierarch? Rey's no murderer, it's just not in him. And last I checked, he's a good loyal churchgoer like the rest of them. Why would he...?" The commander stopped to think for a second. There were rumors about the Hierarch, though never confirmed for pretty obvious reasons. It wasn't much to go on, but it did establish motive.
"Oh, Rey. What have you done?" His half-brother Reyncourt wasn't a murderer, but he was a righteous prick who saw the world in black and white. A real knight in shining armor, even before he was a knight in shining armor. He was capable of killing people, especially when he considered them too evil to live. Not a great start to his career. There were plenty of evil men, even women, in the upper echelons of the Cintran society. Averon turned to Silas and asked for a favor, "Sergeant, I must tend to a family matter. Could you hold the fort down here, make sure the royal family's safe and sound while I'm gone? I won't be long."
"Sir, are you sure?" Silas glanced at the queen, who was sulking in the wings as Pavetta and Urcheon said their vows. "I mean, of course I could. You can count on me, but your absence will be noticed."
"I'm well aware." Averon replied, "Tell the queen I'll explain everything once I get back. I only hope she doesn't clap me in irons the moment I set foot in the barracks."
The sergeant saluted him, "Good luck, commander."
If Calanthe was angry before, she'd be furious to hear him gone. If the commander of her queensguard could walk in and out with impunity, do as he pleases and refuse to uphold the standards of his station, it didn't speak well for the crown. And on the night where a great transition of powers was taking place? She'd have his head, literally. Averon understood the risks and went his way, riding out of the capital towards the place he judged would be the only place Reyncourt would try to hide when in trouble.
A little roadside eatery on the kingsroad, where as kids they had stayed to recuperate after being rescued from the old odd tower.
For the first time in her sordid life, Fenne was happy. Beneath Reyncourt's heavy arms, that pulled her into his warm embrace, she'd never felt safer. The golden hairs on his forearms tickled her skin, as did the stubble on his face. Her lover was pressing his head deep into the crook of her neck as he slept. To his credit, he didn't snore.
Still, Fenne couldn't quite sleep right. She lay there half-awake, drifting from a drunken haze to a dreamy trance. She listened to the heavy breath blowing into her ear, while her fingers drew slow brushlike strokes across Reyncourt's hands. She hadn't noticed it before, but he was missing a few fingers on his left hand. The woman reached down to touch it, but Rey grabbed hers and intertwined his fingers into her own. Trapped, Fenne sighed and closed her eyes.
Reyncourt's other hand was caressing her thigh as he gradually awakened. The sun's first rays were spilling out from the horizon, signifying the arrival of another day. He was refreshed, aroused and ready to ravage his woman.
He wouldn't get the chance that morning.
"Open it up." A muffled but familiar voice from behind the locked door demanded, and the subtle jingle of keys on a ring reached his ears. The lock twisted and turned, then the door swung open.
Reyncourt rose up and flung the covers aside. Fenne gathered them up to her chest and shrank back against the wall. In walked the Myrmidon, a frightening golem of iron and molten steel. Like most Cintrans who first saw him in person, Fenne cowered before Averon. But Reyncourt met him with casual familiarity. He was his brother after all.
Averon's scrutinizing gaze beheld the naked knight, then turned to the woman on his bed. "I think an explanation is in order, don't you?"
"I think not." Reyncourt replied nonchalantly, bending to pick up some of his clothes so he could make himself decent. "Why are you meddling in this matter, Bov? I didn't send for you."
"Don't 'Bov' me, Rey. Is it true? Did you fucking kill Branddhurst? Oh what am I saying, of course you did! But help me understand- why the hell would you do that?"
"Fenne, get dressed." The knight said to his woman before addressing Averon's inquiries. "Well now, since you're here, I'd ask you to calm down and listen well. My actions weren't done out of a whim-"
Averon glanced at Fenne's shapely form slipping into her dress, "Really? I find that hard to believe."
"And..." Reyncourt snapped, "I killed the Hierarch because I couldn't abide his crimes any longer. The years I spent with him, being schooled for the priesthood, revealed the hidden acts of depravity that no one else were privy to. Averon, that man was abducting women and children- turning them into pleasure slaves."
Averon, stunned by his words, remained silent. Already, the gears were turning in his head.
"I knew what I did was rash, but when he tried to make me join in his 'fun' I... I lost my temper." Reyncourt looked at Fenne, "I killed His Eminence to spare her from suffering another day with him."
"And now you're hiding away with one of his prized whores, great plan."
"I know the law will be after me, but I have something that the crown may want- just enough to make them agree to back me when the Church tries to take me away."
Averon frowned, crossing his arms. He decided to humor him, "How?"
"The Hierarch hid the bodies of his victims in the gardens of the Grand Cathedral. They may be orphans, they may be whores, but they'll get all the right people angry enough to demand justice. I can get that evidence for the crown but..."
"But?"
"But I need help." The knight began hesitantly, "Specifically I need your help."
}!{