Just a something that popped in my head, Also this is my first time writing sex - I wanted to try my hand, as a learning experience, I did this in like an hour - it's not too graphic, I made sure to use the big words I found in the thesaurus - english is not my first tongue sorry.
Begin.
Rykard was defeated, his blasphemous reign brought to a bitter end. Lady Tanith feasted upon his cursed remains, and the souls of those sacrificed found their long-awaited peace. The Volcano Manor, once a fortress of terror, would soon crumble.
Yet, even in the midst of this hard-won victory, one thought lingered in the mind of our Tarnished warrior —a lone figure beneath the Temple of Eiglay, beyond the fiery river of lava, in a small, secluded chamber. The serpent girl sat there, dejected, awaiting the death she believed was inevitable.
The Tarnished warrior approached her, his steps soft, almost hesitant. She looked up, her sorrowful eyes meeting theirs. For a moment, neither spoke, the air heavy with unspoken words.
"You're not willing to kill me, are you?" Her voice trembled with a bitter sadness. "Hah... You've always been so kind. And uncompromising."
The Tarnished warrior said nothing, his gaze speaking volumes, more than words ever could.
"I suppose I knew it, deep down," she murmured, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "How kind and uncompromising you always were."
The Tarnished warrior stood silent still; his heart heavy with the weight of the serpent girl's words. The crackling of the distant lava was the only sound that filled the oppressive stillness, its molten glow casting flickering shadows on the walls.
The former scout girl, who once served the very horrors he had vanquished, now seemed so fragile, so achingly human.
She looked away, as if to shield herself from the tenderness in their eyes. "I was a fool to believe in this...in the Volcano Manor, in the recusants, in Rykard. It's all done for now "
The Tarnished warrior took a step closer, his presence a quiet reassurance. he reached out, a gloved hand brushing against the cold, scaled skin of her arm. It was a small gesture, but it held the weight of something much deeper—an understanding, a shared pain, perhaps even a glimmer of hope.
She shivered at his touch, her breath catching in her throat. "Why do you linger with me here?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "You could have left, you could've killed me and left me to die within this cursed place."
The Tarnished's hand lingered on her arm, a subtle anchor in a world that had lost its way. he wanted to speak, to tell her that she wasn't alone, that even in the darkest corners of this world, there was still light to be found. But the words escaped him, replaced by a tender silence that said everything his voice could not.
"Come with me," He finally whispered, his voice as gentle as a breeze.
But she couldn't move. She didn't want to. The weight of the truth, the the burden of what she is, held her in place like chains. Her body trembled, torn between the desire to follow and the fear that she didn't deserve such a chance.
Sensing her hesitation, the Tarnished warrior didn't wait for her to decide. He bent down and, with a tenderness that belied his battle-worn exterior, scooped her up into his arms. She was light, her fragile form barely more than a whisper against his chest.
"Tarnished… what are you—?" Her voice faltered, caught between surprise and something softer, something almost like trust.
Before she could finish, the world around them shifted. The oppressive heat of the lava, the distant echoes of the dying manor, all vanished in an instant. In their place, a serene silence enveloped them as they reappeared at the Table of Lost Grace. The air here was cool, soothing, and the soft glow of grace bathed them in a gentle light.
But The Roundtable Hold, once filled with life and purpose, was now a shadow of its former self. Rogier and D were dead, thus Fia had been long gone, and Nepheli, along with Brother Corhyn and Diallos, had departed. All that remained were Roderika, Hewg, and Gideon, along with the twin maiden husks, and Enia.
Gideon was too engrossed in his books to notice their arrival, and Hewg, bound by duty, would never leave his smithing post. Roderika, ever vigilant, would sometimes wander, but mostly she stayed near Hewg.
As the nameless Tarnished walked past Roderika and Hewg, heading toward what used to be Fia's chambers, only Roderika took notice. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, followed their movements, noting the fragile form in the Tarnished's arms.
"She's not… Tarnished," Roderika whispered, a hint of concern lacing her voice.
The Tarnished warrior paused, acknowledging Roderika's words with a simple nod before continuing toward Fia's bedchambers. Once inside, he gently closed the doors, the heavy wood muffling the world outside.
The room was as it had been left, draped in shadows and memories of those who once sought solace within its walls. The Tarnished carefully laid the serpent girl down on the bed, her form sinking into the soft fabric. She looked around, her eyes wide with uncertainty, but the calm that permeated the room seemed to ease her fears.
The Tarnished sat beside her, silent and watchful, as if waiting for her to find her own voice. They were together, and there was no immediate danger, no looming threat. Just a quiet room, a shared breath. And a promise of something more.
"But why…?" she murmured, her voice trembling as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with doubt. "I'm a disgusting, blasphemous creature. Why would you—"
He gently placed a finger to her lips, silencing her. The touch was light, almost tender, and she froze, her words dying in her throat. His gaze held hers, steady and unwavering, as if trying to convey what he couldn't express with words alone.
"You are more than what you think, more than what you've been told." He said softly, his voice firm yet kind. "I see you as you are, and that is enough."
Her breath hitched at his words, a tear slipping down her cheek. The doubt and self-loathing that had consumed her began to crack under the weight of his sincerity. She wanted to believe him, to let go of the fear and guilt that had been her constant companions since she discovered the truth.
She reached out so tentatively, her fingers brushing against his hand, seeking the warmth of his touch. He turned his hand over, allowing her to slip her fingers into his, their palms meeting in a warm, intimate clasp.
"But how can you think to court me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "After everything I've done… everything I am?"
The Tarnished shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. "There's nothing to forgive. This world is ruined, mired in torment and despair, but we are still here. That's what matters."
She searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but found only a quiet resolve. The room around them seemed to shrink, drawing them closer together, the space between them narrowing until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.
When he leaned in, she didn't pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to be drawn into the moment, to believe—if only for a little while—that she was worthy of this tenderness.
His lips brushed against her temple, a featherlight caress that sent a shiver down her spine. "You're not alone anymore," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "And you never have to be."
Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time they were born of something other than sorrow—something warmer, something that felt like hope. She leaned into him, her heart pounding in her chest, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could find redemption in his arms.
Their lips met, the kiss soft and slow, a tentative exploration of the emotions that had been building between them. The passion simmered just beneath the surface, restrained by the understanding that this was more than just a physical connection. This was the beginning of something new, something fragile yet fiercely real.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling as they both struggled to steady their racing hearts.
The tarnished warrior began to remove his Armor, each piece falling away with a muted clink, revealing the man beneath the steel. He then turned to her, steady hands as he helped her undo her garments, leaving only bare skin, no longer held back by the fabric. She was trembling slightly, the anticipation and uncertainty mingling together to create a heady cocktail of emotions.
He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the curve of her jaw. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were afraid she might shatter at the slightest provocation. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers in a teasing caress.
She arched into him, eager to deepen the kiss, but he held back, wanting to savour the moment. He traced a path of kisses along her jawline and down her neck, each touch sending a shiver through her. When he finally captured her mouth once more, it was in a searing kiss that left them both breathless.
She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if she could somehow merge their bodies into one. She couldn't get enough, the feeling of his skin against hers, the taste of him on her tongue, the sound of his voice murmuring her name like a prayer.
He pressed her against the mattress, his weight pinning her down. His lips moved against her skin, his hands exploring every inch of her body, mapping out the places that made her gasp and shiver. She clung to him, desperate for more, but he kept his pace maddeningly slow, drawing out the pleasure until she was trembling with need.
Their eyes met, and she saw the same desire reflected back at her. He captured her mouth - again - in a hungry kiss, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance of passion and desire.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groaned as their bodies connected in a way that was so much deeper than mere physical contact.
They moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that was both familiar and exhilarating. He rocked his hips against hers, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through them both.
"I need you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "I need to be inside you."
She arched against him, her nails digging into his back. "Please," she gasped, her own need matching his.
He slid into her, filling her completely, and they both cried out at the exquisite sensation. They moved together, their bodies joined in a primal dance, their hearts beating as one.
The world fell away as they lost themselves in each other, the only sounds being their ragged breaths and the creak of the bed beneath them.
The pace quickened, the tension mounting as they pushed each other toward the edge. She clung to him, her fingers raking across his back, her moans filling the air as they both teetered on the brink of ecstasy.
"Oh gods," she gasped, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I can't... I can't..."
He buried his face in her neck, his voice low and husky. "Zorayas... Let go."
That was all it took. She shattered, her release tearing through her with the force of a storm. She cried out his name, her body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over her.
He followed her over the edge, his own climax rippling through him, his body shuddering against hers as he emptied himself deep inside her. They clung to each other, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in sync.
As the last tremors subsided, she buried her face in his neck, her breathing ragged. He stroked her hair, his touch tender and reassuring. He pulled her close, cradling her in his arms as they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed since they had fallen asleep, but when the Tarnished warrior woke, Zorayas was beside him, no longer in her human guise. Her serpentine form, coiled and vulnerable, lay next to him, the soft rise and fall of her breathing the only sign of life.
The sight might have startled another, but he felt no fear, no revulsion. Instead, he reached out with a steady hand, gently caressing the scales that adorned her body, marveling at the cool, smooth texture under his fingertips.
The touch stirred her, and she awoke with a start, her wide, reptilian eyes filling with horror as she realized she was exposed.
"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and disgust. She recoiled from him, trying to shift back into her human form, her limbs trembling with the effort.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" she repeated, her words tumbling over each other in her haste to apologize, as if her true form was something to be ashamed of, something monstrous and unworthy.
But before she could fully retreat, he cupped her face, his hand firm yet tender, preventing her from escaping. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he said softly, his voice filled with an unshakable gentleness.
She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "But I'm… this," she said, her voice choked with self-loathing. "Born of a blasphemous ritual, a creature of sin. How can you look at me like this…and not feel disgusted?"
The Tarnished shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "You are Zorayas," he replied, his tone steady and sure. "Whether in this form or another, you are still the same person I've come to care for. Your worth is not determined by the shape you take."
"But-"
"How many times must I say it…I see you for who you are, Zorayas. " he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear. "Not just your form, but your heart, your soul."
Zorayas stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. None other than Tanith had ever spoken to her like this before, none had ever seen past the surface to the person beneath.
She had believed herself to be a creature of darkness, unworthy of love, destined to be alone. But here, in this moment, she saw in his eyes the truth he was offering her—a truth she had never thought possible.
"You're not a monster," he continued, his voice a soothing balm to her wounded heart. "You're a survivor. And I will stand by you, in whatever form you choose to take."
She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, soothing the deepest wounds in her soul. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed herself to relax, to let go of the fear and shame that had haunted her for so long. And as she did, she felt a warmth spreading through her, a quiet, tender love that filled the spaces where darkness had once reigned.
When she opened her eyes again, she found his gaze still locked on hers, full of acceptance, full of love. She didn't need to hide from him, didn't need to be anything other than who she truly was.
With a shuddering breath, she leaned into his touch, her serpentine form curling closer to him, seeking comfort in his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his fingers gently tracing the patterns of her scales as if committing them to memory.
"I'm here," he whispered into the silence, his breath warm against her skin. "And I'm not going anywhere."
In that moment, Zorayas knew that she was not alone, she felt truly seen, truly loved—not in spite of who she was, but because of it. There was no more fear, no more shame—only a quiet, enduring love that transcended form and fate, binding them together in a way that neither time nor darkness could ever break.
Outside, Roderika wiped away a tear, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's just so sweet," she whispered, her eyes glistening.
Across from her, Hewg grunted, his hammer pausing mid-strike. "Why am I always the one stuck listening this drivel?" he muttered, though there was a small hint of a smile beneath his gruff exterior.
Roderika sighed, ignoring his grumbling. "How could you not be moved Master Hewg. It's love."
"Love," he huffed, resuming his work with a resigned shake of his head. "More like torture."
END.