Dance of Crows - Book 1
Copyright© 2025 by Es_Orik
Chapter 2
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 2 - In the era of men, elves, dwarves, dragons, and gods—a war that threatens to shake the foundation of the world brews!
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Military War
VAETAL II
The banquet held in flourish. The great hall glowed softly under the warm, golden light of lamps that hung along the old walls, their flames casting deep shadows upon the carved stone. Long, oaken boards, roughened by the years, lay set with trenchers of silver and goblets of bright metal, and along them sat lords and ladies in merry discourse. Food and wine spread in abundance, and music from the minstrel’s gallery roved the air.
At the far end, upon the raised dais, stood the high table, upon which were seated members of the royal family, their seats of honor commanding the room.
Prince Vaetal sat by his father’s side, his visage one of noticeable disinterest with the affair at hand. But the same could not be said for his father, who stood in high spirit.
“It seems you have admirers, Vaetal,” his uncle spoke beside him.
He lifted his head and cast his gaze to where his uncle stared. He found a group of highborn ladies, their desirous gaze resting upon him. Veiling his utter boredom, he offered a dutiful smile before pulling his gaze away from the sight.
“Do you find any among them pleasing, Nephew?” he asked, a teasing glint plain his eyes. “You are of age now. Your unmarried status is subject of discussion.”
Unlike his brother, the King, he smiled easy with an appearance softer and more refined. And in even more dissimilarity, he was eloquent with the words that parted from his lips, and his affable demeanor gained friends and allies. Few would be able to discern they were kin, for they were as different as the bright sun and solemn moon.
Only the white color of hair and gray color of eyes were the same.
Vaetal smiled at the man. Marriage seemed so far into the future, he never spared it a moment of thought. “We hold the same status, Uncle. I shall follow your lead.”
“Point earned, Nephew,” he said with a smile, then grew solemn. “The banquet is in your name, yet you look as though you would rather be anywhere else.”
“I was just in thought.” He lifted his goblet to his lips and drank a little of the dry wine before setting it down. “I shall be in the mood soon enough.”
“Troubling thoughts?” his uncle asked.
His reply was halted by his father’s sudden movement.
He rose from his tall seat and called for silence with a raised hand. All responded to the command, a heavy stillness descending into the hall.
“Today, we celebrate the return of my son, Prince Vaetal, and the glad tidings he bears. For too long, we have suffered a scourge, a scourge that threatens our peace, our realm. But no more.” He gazed upon Vaetal proudly and lifted his goblet. “Because of my son, we also mark the birth of a great alliance—our kingdom joined with three others, and soon a fourth—an alliance that shall rid us of the fae scourge. To the future!”
With cups raised high, the voices of guests met together and thundered through the hall like a giant’s cry. “To the future!”
Vaetal joined, raising his goblet, albeit half-heartedly, and the simple words failed to part from his lips. His father’s respect and admiration did not please him as it had done on many occasions before. Through the swell of cheer and clinking goblets, he caught Dorean’s gaze upon him, knowing the conflict that gnawed at his heart.
“You look troubled, my son.” His father observed after getting back into seat.
“I am fine, father,” he said, quickly draining the last of wine from his goblet. “I’ve just had a bit too much to drink. I shall return to my bedchamber.”
He laughed. “It is a night of a celebration, Vaetal. You are allowed.”
“I know, Father. But I would prefer to retire for the night. I have not had a good night’s rest in a while.” He pushed himself up to his feet.
“If you insist, I shall not stop you.”
He nodded. “Goodnight, Father.”
“I shall join you too, Nephew.” His uncle stood. “The late nights do not treat me well, and there is plenty to do tomorrow.”
Vaetal moved to his mother and bid her goodnight. She looked to be surprised at his early departure, but said nothing regarding it, only offered her goodnight. He offered a kiss to his brother’s head and then made his way beyond the dais with his uncle.
“I hope I did not steal you away, Uncle.”
The man smiled. “I thank you for your concern, Vaetal. But do not worry, I had begun to grow bored. Now, tell me what troubles you. I shall offer whatever counsel I can,” he said as they walked the passage together.
Vaetal could not see the man’s face in the shadow between torches that hung along the wall, but he felt his care. Still, he was unsure whether to share his concern. He trusted his uncle, but so did his father. The man had even cautioned him long ago that his father’s trust was foremost. Thus, he could not risk his father learning his doubt remained.
“It is nothing, Uncle. I did not mean to worry you.”
He knew his uncle would not be so easy to deceive as his father had been.
The man knew him too well.
“I know you, Vaetal. I know when something weighs on your mind,” he said. “I can offer counsel ... so long as it does not place me at odds with my brother.”
“It might, Uncle,” Vaetal voiced.
His uncle hesitated. “I see.”Vaetal drew a breath, the air heavy upon his chest.
For a time, he weighed silence against truth. His father’s anger was certain, his uncle’s help uncertain, yet the burden was too great to bear alone.
So be it. He would speak. Should his uncle hold the counsel he sought, he would weather whatever storm his father might bring if he learned of his persisting doubts.
“I do not feel strongly about the alliance and father’s plan.”
“Need I remind you that you helped forge the alliance, Nephew.”
Vaetal frowned. His hands had only borne the proposal, yet it was stained all the same and weighed bitterly upon his heart. He had hoped for words of rejection from the five realms when he laid it before them, but he had overestimated the quarrels they had amongst themselves, and underestimated the hatred they nursed together for the fae.
“I was no more than a messenger, and even that was born of duty.”
“Why feel this way now, Vaetal? There have been skirmishes in the past and you have fought in them. You have never wavered before.”
Vaetal could not deny. Even in skirmishes provoked by his nation, he had fought and defended his men. He had shed Fae blood. But this ... it went too far.
“This is different, Uncle.” He glanced at the older man.
“Is it?”
“It is not to be a skirmish, nor a battle. My father intends it to be a massacre. I worry he is blinded by his hate, but you must see how wrong his plans are, Uncle.”
“It is not my place to decide what is right or wrong, Vaetal. Like you, I am bound by oath to obey. My brother is king, his words are final.”
“You are a member of his council. He trusts and listens to you. I am sure there is something you can say to move his mind in another way.”
His uncle reached his chamber and turned so they faced each other. “And you are his heir. Have you spoken with him of your concern?”
“I have,” Vaetal answered. “I offered suggestions but none were received.”
“If you cannot turn him from this course, then I am afraid no one can.” His uncle rested a hand on his burdened shoulder. “Rest, we shall talk more tomorrow.”
Vaetal let a sigh escape him and left his uncle.
Battling with his conscience, he traveled toward his bedchamber. He held no deep love for fae folk, but to aid in bringing destruction and the end of a race was too great a sin to bear. The slaughter of innocents would linger in his heart for all time.
As Dorean had said, it would be the death of his honor.
DOREAN I
“Wake up, my lord,” a female voice whispered in quiet.
Dorean felt a light brush upon his temple and he slowly parted his lids, but the light of morning blinded his eyes and he sealed them shut once more. After a time, he opened them with caution and his gaze fell on a woman settled beside him.
Her visage was striking, with long red hair tumbling over shoulders in gentle waves, catching the morning light like strands of copper. Bright emerald eyes held him in steady regard, their depth hinting at unspoken mystery. Her skin was pale, touched here and there by freckles, and she sat in a robe of deep green wool, the fabric loose at the chest so that her full bosom all but spilled free with each slow, quiet breath.
“It is morning. Here, I have brought you something to drink,” the woman said, her voice carrying a strong accent he could only vaguely place.
Dorean lay naked upon a rumpled bed, fur covers and blankets hiding the lower half of his body. He rose, haze clinging onto his mind as he took the cup she offered. “Thank you,” he said upon emptying the glass, then took notice of the space before him.
The room was painted red and sparsely furnished, with only a large bedding, a worn armchair, and a small table that leaned against painted walls. Bright morning light streamed through the open windows, carrying with it fresh air tainted with candle wax and spice.
He remembered little of the night before, but the lovely beauty at his side, and his own nakedness explained all that was needed.
“Do you need food, my lord?”
“No, I am fine for now. But I shall have wine if you have any,” he mumbled, sleep still thick in his voice. “And do not call me lord. I am not one.”
“No more wine, you drank all,” the woman replied, a smile on her lips.
Dorean let a breath escape him. “I see.”
“What of Ser? May I call you that? You are knight, yes?”
“I suppose I am.”
The woman plucked the cup from his fingers and set it aside. “Last night, you told me of a strange word I still do not understand. Bondmate ... what is it?”
She was not from here. Dorean knew it—not from the question, but from the strange, unplaceable accent in her voice. Perhaps she had told him before, but he was not sure. His head still wobbled from forgotten events of the previous night.
“You are not from here, are you?”
She laughed. “No, I told you of this last night.”
“My apologies, I do not remember.”
He leaned against the wooden headboard behind him.
“You drank too much wine and I was undressed, so it is fine,” the woman said with a smile full of warmth. “I come from Tavos, the Old World.”
Dorean gazed at her in surprise. The accent no longer bemused him.
All knew the Old World lay beyond the Storm Sea, a continent without kings nor kingdoms, its regions ruled by savage warlords, mad cults, and strange beasts of old. Few dared to risk travel, save for bold merchants and glory-seeking adventurers.
Even the First language was not spoken by all.
“I have never met one from the Old World,” Dorean said. “How did you come to be in the city? How long? I would like to know if you are open.”
“I have been here nine days,” she said, seeming pleased by his interest. “I fled from a cruel master and bought passage on a merchant ship with stolen coin.”
Nine days. All alone. He wondered if she had sought employment elsewhere before finding work here. That would not surprise him. Her accent was too distinct, and there were few in the city who would hire outsiders. But the brothel was always looking for new girls. Variety could only be profitable. And the girls themselves earned good coin.
“It must have been a difficult journey.”
“Yes, but I am happy now. It is different here than where I am from.”
“How so?” Dorean asked, his attention utterly stolen by the stunning redhead beauty with a rich story to tell. “Tell me of it, tell me of everything.”
“In the Old World, there is always fighting and stealing. We do not have Kingdoms, nor Kings, or Princes, or Bondmates.” The woman expertly turned the conversation back to her inquiry. “You still do not tell me what it is.”
Dorean grinned. He liked her, truly. She was clever.
“It is whatever it needs to be at anytime to the Prince,” he replied. “Friend, counsel, servant, protector. I am to give my life for him if needed.”
“Why must you?” she asked, a frown of confusion settled upon her face.
“It is my purpose. My life is tied to his till death comes.
“Your life is tied to his? What do you mean by this?”
The woman’s emerald eyes focused on his face, her curiosity etched within them.
Dorean wondered whether to say more to her. It was no secret. His status was well known through out the realm, but he disliked speaking, or even thinking of it.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to cause upset,” she said upon catching his expression shift, the silence leaving her in knots of distress. “I will leave now. Forgive me.”
She stood to leave but Dorean grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bed, close to his side. “It is fine. You did nothing wrong,” he said to her in a gentle tone. “What I meant by the words is simple, the end of the Prince’s life shall also be the end of mine.”
He saw shock enter her eyes, and it refused to leave.
The woman held his gaze for a time. “The merchants that come to my old master, I heard them speak. They say Wesser is the New World, more civilized. Is it not so?”
“Do not worry. It is an old tradition kept by the Citadel. The other kingdoms do not practice,” he said and drew forth a breath, lifting his face to the ceiling. “I have said enough about myself, no more questions. I wish to know more about you now.”
“One more, please.”
Dorean sighed. “Fine, ask it.”
“Do you wish it were different?”
He hesitated to give answer as it was a thought he often harbored. Thoughts of what kind of life he would have led had he been born a day before, or after, Vaetal, and someone else had been chosen as bondmate. The life he imagined was not one he desired.
His birth mother was a peasant whore who had left the kingdom with a sack full of gold heavier than she could carry, and his father could be any of the hundreds that visited the brothels. Had his fate been different, he would have been worth only the words on his name, grown to be another blacksmith or carpenter with cold, rationed meals and irregular baths. He also would not have the truest friendship he has ever known.
“No, I never have,” he answered after a moment.
“What is the Prince like? You spoke of him many times. You are close, yes?”
A smile took Dorean’s face as he looked at the woman. “Another question. You said the one before would be your last. Do not try to trick me.”
“I do not, this one is not about you.”
“Clever, girl,” Dorean said with a laugh. He was quickly growing fond of her.
She inclined her head.
“The Prince is a good man. The kind of man that throws himself in front of an arrow to save a life, the kind of man that remembers the name of every soldier that serves under him. He is the best man I know, sometimes broody and intense, but I could not have been bond to a better person.” He spoke with a smile, full of admiration and love.
“I see that he is close to your heart,” she said. “I will hope you bring him when you come again. But I do not think a place such as this would interest a Prince.”
“Who says I shall return? There are many brothels I visit,” Dorean said, though she was correct in her presumption. He would return. He enjoyed her company and would like to know more of her life. She was also a beauty, and he longed to be with her again.
The woman smiled seductively. “I have the feeling.”
“Is that so?”
“It is,” she said.
“And why would I need a companion, did I not please you enough?”
“You did.” She pulled her hand from his and rose to her feet, then slowly began to loose the belt that held her robe together, drawing out the moment. The smile upon her lips never faltered. “Very, very much. I hope you will do it again.”
Dorean showed a wide smile, resisting even the need to blink and miss a moment of the performance that played before his eyes. Her robe graced the floor, revealing enticing curves, her full breast and rosy nipples, and her mostly shaved sex, all for his pleasure.
She was radiant. His member stirred to life at the sight.
How could he have forgotten the night they’d spent together? His mind might have been burdened with heavy thoughts that compelled him to find escape at the bottom of a mug. But forgetting her, her lithesome body, was an offense to the Divine themselves.
“I am certain I can,” he growled in hunger.
Her smile widened at his words and she ambled toward the bed. “I am pleased to know that. But this is a gift, you must be discreet. I would not anger my Madam, and I do not want others to expect more than they pay for when they visit.”
“I am considered a special client, then?”
With warm laughter, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. Dorean felt his hardness press against her soft wet folds, begging for entrance, but she did not give.
“Very special.” She bit his ear gently.
Dorean grew ready to flip her over, but the door sprang open before he could, jarring the moment. She scrambled off his body and drew the fur blankets to cover her naked body from the sight of the intruder. “Who the fuck are you!?” she screamed in anger.
“Apologies, but I must speak with Dorean. It is urgent.”
Dorean looked to the intruder and frowned. “Now, Vaetal?”
The name must have rang familiar in the her head, Dorean thought, as her beautiful face twisted in dread and she grew stiff beside him.
“I ... I am sorry, my lord. Please forgive me,” she begged, her voice quivering in fear as she lowered her head to the bed. “I did not know I spoke to you. I beg for mercy.”
“It is fine, do not be afraid. If Dorean and I can speak alone, please.”
“Of course, my lord.”
She sprang from the bed with the covers wrapped around her nude body.
“Wait, what is your name?” Dorean asked as she reached the door, the thought only now coming to him. “I would like to know whom to ask for next time.”
She spun to him, a faint smile upon her lips. “It is Meeva, my lord.”
Dorean attempted to correct her on the title again, but she bowed low and apologized to Vaetal before scampering out of the room in haste.
“New favorite?”
“Perhaps,” Dorean replied with a childlike grin as he sprawled across the bed in an ungraceful manner, allowing his friend to glimpse what lay between his legs.
Vaetal groaned out. “I beg you to get dressed.”
“It better be for a good reason, Vaetal.”
Dorean grumbled and pushed up from the bed, gathering his scattered clothes from around the room and dressing himself hurriedly. “How did you find me here?”
“You keep thinking yourself unimportant, but there are many who pay attention.”
“Do not tell me you have spies watching me.”
Vaetal released a sigh. “I do not, but tales of a loud drunk placing bounties on the Prince’s ‘chastity’ reached me. I could only think of one so degenerate.”
“I am sorry for that,” he said, but laughter escaped him.
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