House of Laenas: Blood and Water
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Strike
Chapter 19
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 19 - The Continuation of the House of Laenas. With the darkness now becoming stronger than ever, the Laenas siblings discover a means of silencing it for good. Within the Golden Mountains lie waters that can silence their family curse. Richard and Mabel are given the quest to find the water and bring the water back to their family. But can they achieve such a feat when their darkness hunger fights them on every turn?
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Consensual Reluctant BiSexual Heterosexual High Fantasy Incest Brother Sister Rough Orgy Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism Lactation Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy
Faerson Manor, the Kingdom of Wuthia, 1126
Solomon Laenas (Jared Faerson)
The day dragged on in a haze, my mind half-elsewhere despite the library’s warmth and the hearth’s steady glow. I knew what must be done. The night was coming, and with it the reckoning that would shake our house to its foundations.
I summoned Eudora to meet me in the library. When she arrived, her gait was brisk, her hands folded neatly before her, though her eyes betrayed curiosity and caution.
“Eudora,” I said, voice low, keeping the servants out of earshot, “I must tell you the truth of what befell Bridget.”
Her brows rose, but she inclined her head, waiting. I took a deep breath, forcing the words out as steadily as I could.
“The night she was attacked,” I started, “she wasn’t attacked by a random wild beast. In fact, she wasn’t attacked at all. She was ... taken by it, and the result of that night – Bridget is now carrying its child.”
“By the gods,” she gasped, but still held her composure. “Can you she even gives birth to such a ... being?”
“According to the codex,” I said, flipping to the pages that mentioned the Mansse. “It’s rare for such a beast to mate with a human, but it speaks no ill-fate or harm to the mother who bears such offspring.”
“Well, that’s good,” Eudora said, a wave of relief washed over her. She was inclined once more, steady as a sentinel. “So, when should we expect this birth?”
“Tonight,” I said.
Her eyes widened, and the sharp gasp she tried to swallow caught in her throat. But after a heartbeat, she quickly returned to a calm posture and steadiness. “Such fast timing,” she said, voice calm, though the weight of comprehension pressed into her features. “But don’t worry, m’lord. Me and a few women among the servants are skilled in childbirth. We will see her safely through it, even if she’s delivering such an offspring.”
Relief bloomed within me, fleeting but true. Eudora’s presence was a shield against chaos, a tether to reason in a night that would be otherwise untethered. “I am glad you will be with us,” I admitted, voice quieter than I intended, but she only inclined her head. No judgment, only understanding.
“Remember, m’lord,” she said before she left to prepare, “I am always here for you all. And besides, your family keeps this old pile of bones still kicking.”
I smiled and chuckled. She always knew how to turn something bad into something good. After she left, I returned to the book. I could not rest, could not still the fire in my mind. I needed to know more. I needed to understand the Mansse—the creatures whose blood now moved within Bridget.
I pored over the pages, tracing the ancient lines, reading of their strength, their cunning, their hunger. Their power was unmatched in the southern wilds; their territory spanned rivers, forests, and mountains. They were raiders, predators, and yet, in the old tales, they were also worshiped—gods of fertility, of fields, of life itself.
I read of their mating, of their offspring, and the unnatural bond it wrought when joined with human flesh. The texts were sparse, vague in parts, yet vivid in warning. The child born of such a union would inherit not only brute force but also a primal hunger, a tether to the wild that could not be tamed by any law of man.
Being that their kind was so close to nature, would giving birth outside be better for the child?
As I pondered the place of birth, I glanced at the windows in the library. While the sun remained high in the sky, it wouldn’t be long before it started to dip low in the west. Yet I would not shrink. I had duties to Bridget, to the child, and to the house. And now, with Eudora at our side, I felt the first small spark of courage.
I just hope Richard and Mabel are faring better on their quest.
The Temple of Light, the Kingdom of Wuthia, 1126
Mabel Laenas (Rila Faerson)
We climbed the final steps into the upper halls of the temple, the warmth of the air a stark contrast to the chill of the glade below. The Ladies of Light greeted us with quiet smiles, their robes soft and flowing, hands extended to help us dry off. Soon, we were wrapped in warm, fresh attire—soft tunics and cloaks that smelled faintly of herbs and sunlight. I felt almost human again, grounded, whole, as Richard adjusted his new cloak with a lopsided grin.
Once changed, we were invited to join the Ladies of Light for a quick supper. The room was humble yet comforting. The scent of bread, roasted vegetables, and delicate stews filled the air. I took a seat beside Richard, feeling the lingering glow of the lake’s waters still pulsing faintly in my veins.
Toren sat across from us, eyes curious but kind. He broke the quiet. “I can’t help but wonder ... where have you two been while I carried the supplies up? You seemed ... distant.”
I took a deep breath, glancing at Richard, whose gaze met mine with quiet encouragement. “Toren ... there’s something we should tell you,” I began. “The real reason we came with you to the Golden Mountains...” My voice wavered slightly, but I pressed on. “We needed the waters. There’s a ... sickness inside us, one that we couldn’t control. We needed water from this temple to help us survive it, to free ourselves from it.”
Richard leaned in, adding, “It’s ... complicated, but what Mabel said is true. The waters helped us. They gave us a chance to fight it, to reclaim ourselves.”
Toren’s brow furrowed for a brief moment, but then a soft smile spread across his face. “Ah ... I see,” he said. “That’s why you kept it from me. You thought you’d be burdening me—or perhaps, testing my trust.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry for deceiving you. We didn’t mean to—”
“Deception?” Toren chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “No, child. You were cautious, yes, but I am glad I could assist. That is what I am here for—to guide travelers, to carry burdens when they cannot be alone. I’m just happy the water helped. And that you both are safe.”
The relief in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, allowed a small laugh to escape me. Richard exhaled, and I could see him relaxing for the first time in hours. The tension of the trials, the lingering fear of the curse, seemed to loosen as we shared our story, as Toren’s acceptance wrapped around us like a shield.
We ate in companionable silence for a while after that, savoring the food, the warmth, and the simple comfort of being understood. Richard nudged me with an elbow, smirking. “See? Not so bad to tell the truth, Rila.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled, grateful that for once, honesty felt like relief rather than vulnerability. Around us, the Ladies of Light moved gracefully, their presence serene, as though the very walls of the temple exhaled peace.
For the first time in a long while, I felt whole.
After supper, the temple grew quieter, the sounds of chants echoing softly in the distant halls while torches burned low in their sconces. Toren gathered the last of his supplies, humming faintly to himself, preparing the mule for the descent down the mountain paths. Richard stretched, his usual grin back in place, though I could see the depth in his eyes—like he, too, was holding on to the weight of what we’d faced and overcome.
Before we stepped out into the cold mountain air, Sister Elowen came to us. In her hands, she carried a simple but beautifully wrought metal jug, its surface etched with faint runes that caught the torchlight. She held it out reverently.
“For your family,” she said, her voice steady, like a bell. “The waters will keep their strength within this vessel. Use them wisely and remember—the water does not erase what is within. It only gives you the power to rise above it.”
I accepted the jug with both hands, the cool metal biting gently against my palms. My throat tightened as I bowed my head. “Thank you, Sister Elowen. For your kindness ... your guidance ... for everything. Without you, I don’t know if Richard and I would have made it.”
Elowen’s gaze softened. “You made it because you had the will. I only gave you a path. Never forget—you and your brother are no weaker, nor less worthy. You are who you choose to be.”
Her words struck deep, heavy, and comforting all at once. I glanced at Richard, who gave Elowen a small bow of respect.
“We won’t waste this chance,” Richard said firmly.
Toren cleared his throat gently, nodding toward the darkened path outside. “Best we leave while the skies are clear. The mountain doesn’t forgive those who linger too long.”
I tightened my grip on the jug, holding it close against me as though it were a piece of my own soul. With one last glance at Elowen—her figure steady in the doorframe, her calm presence a reminder of the peace we had touched—I whispered again, “Thank you,” before stepping out of the temple’s courtyard.
The sun rose higher as we began our descent, spilling its light over the jagged ridges of the Golden Mountains. The stone peaks shimmered under the pale warmth, and the sharp winds of the heights seemed gentler now, brushing against my face as though in blessing rather than challenge.
For the first time in so long, I felt myself again. The gnawing hunger—the restless pull that had haunted me day and night—was gone. My thoughts were clear, my heart steady. Richard walked ahead of me, his step lighter, his laugh easier. He cracked a jest with Toren about the mule’s stubbornness, and for once it wasn’t forced. He was simply himself, the brother I remember before the darkness began to take us.
Toren proved himself more than a guide; he was a steadying force. He knew every bend and break of the mountain passage, calling out where the rocks might shift or the ice might cling. “Keep your weight low here,” he’d say, showing us how to cross a slope without tumbling. Or “Stay close to the inner wall, the wind will push if you stray.” His voice was calm, seasoned, like the mountains themselves had taught him.
At one point, the path narrowed to a ledge barely wider than my boots, with a sheer drop yawning below. My breath caught, but Toren placed his hand firmly on my shoulder, guiding me forward. “Look at the wall, not the fall,” he advised, and I did. With Richard’s hand brushing against mine as reassurance, I crossed, the fear ebbing with each step.
By high morning, the sun was climbing fast, the air warming just enough to soften the ice along the edges of the trail. Toren stopped, his hand tightening on the mule’s reins. “We’ll rest here,” he announced, lowering himself slowly onto a flat boulder. “These bones of mine need a moment, and so does the mule.”
The mule brayed softly, as if to agree, and began nosing at a patch of thin grass peeking through the rock.
Richard and I sank onto the grass nearby, the jug of water safe between us. For a while, we said nothing, only listening to the wind in the cliffs and the steady crunch of the mule’s teeth on grass. My body felt both weary and renewed, like it had been rebuilt from the inside out.
I leaned back, looking up at the sky—clear, wide, endless. “It feels ... different,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “As though I can finally remember who I was before all this.”
Richard chuckled softly, stretching his arms behind his head. “That’s because we’re ourselves again, Mabel. Just us. Not shadows. Not hunger. Just ... us.”
I turned my head to study him, his face in the morning sun. He looked almost like the boy I remembered, the one who laughed too loudly and flirted with every girl at the market. But there was something steadier now in his eyes. Something stronger.
Toren let out a low sigh, his eyes closed as he rested against the boulder. “That’s the gift of the mountain, children. You climb it one way, but you never come back the same. You’ve seen its trials, its cruelties. Now you carry its wisdom with you.”
I pressed a hand to the jug, feeling the cool metal beneath my palm, and nodded. “And its gift.”
For a little while longer, we let the silence linger, each of us resting in our own way. When Toren stirred again, rising stiffly to his feet, I knew the mountain still had more for us before it would finally let us go.
By the time we rose to our feet again, the sun had climbed high enough to drench the peaks in a sharp, white brilliance. Toren tugged gently at the mule’s reins, and together we began the second leg of our descent. The trail widened gradually, the sheer cliffs giving way to slopes dotted with hardy pines and tufts of grass. The air grew warmer with every step, carrying the faint scent of soil and wild herbs instead of the thin, stinging cold of the high passes.
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