Chapter 15: Faith in Love

Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Zanyia

My tail swished as we entered the Temple of Fidelity. It had a stodgy air about it, like this place was adverse to fun. It made my ears twitch and my tail prickle. I wanted to scamper all around the temple and rub my pussy on every inch of it. To drench this place in something naughty.

Everything was made of white marble streaked with black or black marble streaked with white. Everywhere I looked, the colors alternated. The pillars out front holding up the roof of the porch went from boring light to dull dark. The stones formed a checkered pattern of the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It hurt my eyes staring at the patterns.

“I don’t like this at all,” I said as I scampered beside Master.

“It’s the blending of the feminine and the masculine in perfect union,” Kora said from my other side. “Luben believes that true harmony can only happen when a man and a woman unite their lives together and work hard to make what was two become one.”

“A man and a woman?” My tail twitched. “But what about two women? Can’t they be happy together? Or a man and his wives and sex slaves?”

“While Luben is the God of Love, he’s also the God of Fidelity and Marriage,” Kora said. “And his view of marriage is one man and one woman.”

“So boring,” I said, shaking my tail.

“Yes, that’s how lust views love,” a woman said.

I felt eyes staring at me. Two figures approached, a tall and slender man with a brown beard dusted with age who walked next to a motherly woman with short, blonde hair. They both wore priestly robes, his black and trimmed with white, hers the opposite. Just like everything here.

I rolled my eyes at the judgment I felt in their gazes as they stared at my naked flesh.

“Lust seeks to pervert the purpose of our bodies,” the man said. “We were formed to unite together like Pater unites with his wife Slata, to form a perfect union. Thus, by our act of love, we create new life.”

“Lust makes things more fun,” I muttered. “I like women and men. Especially Master.”

The woman smiled. “Luben understands that love can take other forms, but he sees the love that creates new life to be the strongest, the one that should be striven for, but the one that most mortals cannot ever achieve, no matter how hard they strive. For the temptation of Las abounds, especially with his descendants in the world running around naked.”

“The world deserves to see how beautiful I am,” I said, proud that lamia were birthed from Las’s masturbation...

“Yes, spreading Las’s lust,” the priest said. Then his eyes slid to my Master. “You walk with many women. Another who has found a lesser form of love.”

“Lesser?” Sven asked. “I love all these women here, and you call that lesser? I unite with them. Procreate with them. I think you’d celebrate that.”

“Interesting perspective,” the priest said. “Would you care to discuss it over tea? We could talk about the pitfalls of polyamory and its weaknesses versus monogamy.”

Sven smiled and gave a rueful laugh. “I very much doubt you could convince me that sticking to one woman is at all in my interest. Not when there are so many out there in need of my charm.” He grinned at the priestess and winked at her. “Though, perhaps I could talk with your wife on the matter.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You are a cocky one.”

The priest just laugh. “I think that would be an ... enlightening conversation for you, son, if you survived her tongue.”

“Oh, I always enjoy a woman’s tongue.”

“Brother mine, stop antagonizing the priest,” Kora said, giving him a look over my head. “We’re here for a reason.”

“Yes,” Ealaín added, her armor rattling as she folded her arms.

Aingeal only giggled. “It’s a shame. Your wife would really enjoy sparring orally with my husband. He is quite skilled with his tongue.”

“Please,” Ava said, her voice tight. “I ... I need your help.”

Sven stiffened and nodded his head. His cocky smile vanished. “I apologize, priest. I can’t help myself sometimes. I was born to flirt with a pretty woman. Of course, I wouldn’t try to seduce your wife from breaking her vows of fidelity.”

The priestess gave a snort of disdain. I breathed in and ... smelled only amused contempt from the woman. Not a stirring of lust at all for my Master. I furrowed my brow and wanted to glare at her. She should be dripping wet for my Master. She should be honored that he wanted to give her pleasure. Every woman should.

I wanted to pounce on her and kiss her and lick her and drive her wild until she begged for Sven to take her and...

Ava. We were here for Ava.

“I am sorry, too,” I said, bowing my head, my ears drooping. “I ... I just like having fun. You have to help Mistress Ava. She needs it.”

“Please,” Ava said, stepping forward.

The priestess cupped Ava’s cheeks and stared into her eyes. The priestess groaned. “Oh, I am so sorry that happened to you, child. How terrible. Of course we will help you. I’m Thea, and this is my husband Otmar. Come, come with us.”

“What has happened to her, wife?” Otmar asked, fatherly concern crossing his face. He stroked his gray-peppered beard.

“Swanhilda,” Thea said, her voice thick. The sour scent of anger poured off of her along with a prickly emotion. I breathed in deeply, parsing out her musk from the others around me, cataloging it with my sensitive nose.

Was it guilt?

“Who is Swanhilda?” Sven asked.

“The rogue priestess who enchanted your, uh, paramour,” Thea said. “I can feel her twisted enchantment on the poor girl’s soul.”

“You know about her?” Ava asked. “Swanhilda?”

“Aye,” sighed Otmar. “She was a promising priestess of Luben. She was raised in the faith, met a male acolyte, and started a courtship. They married as their final stage of initiation into the priesthood, uniting their lives together. They seemed happy. They took up the care of a village temple in western Zeutch.”

“And then she met a passing bard, one of those graduates from Az’s famed college,” Thea said, her voice tightening.

I didn’t care much about the story of this Swanhilda, my head darting around. I noticed a mural on the wall that made me blink. It was made of the same whites and blacks, the darker colors adding deep shadows and lines to make the white figures stand out more. A sad man watched on as a woman lay in the passionate arms of another man.

My head cocked. As Thea explained how Swanhilda abandoned her vows to have a torrid affair with the bard, I found myself drifting towards the mural, padding along on all fours. This picture didn’t fit here. It was clearly a woman doing exactly what this Swanhilda did.

“It broke her vows to our God and twisted her priestly connection,” Thea was saying as I reached the mural. “Las stepped in as he always does when one of his father’s servants becomes weak. She dedicated herself to lust, becoming such a hussy. After she tired of her dalliance with the bard, she moved onto other vices. But she needs money. She rents our her magics, prostitutes herself in every way imaginable. She put a spell of ardor on Ava, giving her an unnatural attraction to another.”