Peace

Peace

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

Ten years on from the Shadow Wars peace has seen Severine thrive under the continued leadership of King Titus. Alexander Tor’al has vanished into the footnotes of history while Nathan Drison has retired to the quiet life. For Brent T’elc, Chosen of Heironeous, life has also changed. No longer adventuring beyond the next horizon he has finally found peace in one location. Commander of an army and beloved leader in Land of Zealots he continues to walk the difficult path of Chosen. Yet Brent knows all to well how fickle finding peace can be. I have used the D&D religion of Heironeous and have done so only out of deep and abiding respect and love for it. I have written added my own analects and personality, but have tried to keep as honestly to some materials found in the D&D world as I can. This is, for legal purposes, a fanfiction under the Open Games Licence.

Summary

Ten years on from the Shadow Wars peace has seen Severine thrive under the continued leadership of King Titus. Alexander Tor’al has vanished into the footnotes of history while Nathan Drison has retired to the quiet life.

For Brent T’elc, Chosen of Heironeous, life has also changed. No longer adventuring beyond the next horizon he has finally found peace in one location. Commander of an army and beloved leader in Land of Zealots he continues to walk the difficult path of Chosen. Yet Brent knows all to well how fickle finding peace can be.


I have used the D&D religion of Heironeous and have done so only out of deep and abiding respect and love for it. I have written added my own analects and personality, but have tried to keep as honestly to some materials found in the D&D world as I can. This is, for legal purposes, a fanfiction under the Open Games Licence.

Chapter32 (v.1) - Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 05, 2016

Reads: 157

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 05, 2016

A A A

A A A

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 

Within the month Fortnight’s Feast descended upon the Lands of Zealots. Visitors, buskers and those of the faithful wishing to try their luck in the many competitions poured into the Stance Keep. William Hotes was everywhere, his bright red hair and bellowing voice calling out above the din of the crowd. Paladins from Cyndr’s Wall on recreational leave had arrived with a contingent of faithful from Aldur Territory and were warmly greeted by their brethren.

 

Amongst them was a small family of three. Wide-eyed Vanessa stared in awe at the place her husband had spoken of often. The height of the walls and of the Keep itself dwarfed the southern township, however gaily the displays of banners and colours that decorated its walls. It was with relief she saw a familiar paladin stride out of the crowd to envelop first her husband in a tight embrace before sweeping her and her daughter into a similar one. Hoisting their bags aloft Brent grinned. “Welcome to my home. Come.”

 

Having ensconced them in Patrick’s old room, he took them on a guided tour of his home, showing them the best places upon which to watch the festival below. Brent and Nathan competed in the afternoon jousting events before both their families gathered for the evening meal in the mess hall.

 

 

 

On the fifth day of the festival, when the final heats of the warrior and clerical arts were on, a trumpet sounded. Brent looked up from where he stood judging a swordplay bout and frowned. It was not a call to battle so he dismissed it from his mind, relying on his highly trained staff to summon him if required.

 

Talk was going through the crowds about the mysterious new arrival when two council members hurried over to him. “Chosen,” called Clefe, her face lit up with excitement. “You’ve got to come. Quick.”

“Is there a problem?” asked Brent in concern. Brayd quickly signalled for another to take over judging the competition while Clefe linked her arm through Brent’s and pulled him through the crowd. “It’s the King, Brent,” she said hurriedly. “He’ll reach our gate any minute.”

 

Reaching the courtyard Brent saw that a large crowd had gathered. Cedric was hurrying his stablehands into position while several of the household staff filed out of the Keep’s main door. Apparently they made it just in time with several armed men and women riding into the courtyard moments later. Cheering was heard from the outside of the courtyard as the banner of the King of Severine was recognised by the people.

 

Astride his warhorse, King Titus sat tall, his chestnut hair flowing to his shoulders, a bright golden circlet on his proud head. Lifting a hand he waved to the people, his smile and voice adding fuel to the fire of their cheering. The beloved monarch looked around, sighted the man he had come to see, and dismounted. Closing the distance between them Brent bowed his head, his hand on his chest in acknowledgement of Titus’ status. “Still no true bow I see,” teased the king.  Brent gave him a crooked smile. “You know I won’t bend the knee to a mortal.”

 

“Well then,” grinned Titus opening his arms, “how about a warm greeting for a brother-in-arms?” Embracing his fellow warrior Brent grinned and patted his back. The dull thuds of gauntlet on armour echoed from both their backs. Pulling back Titus slung an arm around his shoulders and peered around. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” he commented. “Never would have guessed this was where it all went down all those years ago.”

“That place was a little further north,” corrected Brent. “But our encampment was where the town is now.” Titus pointed to a cliff face where a large indent was missing. “I couldn’t forget that,” he observed. “Bloody near ended us.”

 

“You’ve come for the festival?” enquired Brent as Titus steered them towards the sounds of metal hitting metal and cheering. “Indeed,” smiled Titus acknowledging the folk near them with a friendly wave. Leaning in close he added quietly, “I’ve also come for a nefarious reason. I need your skills again, Chosen.” Brent blinked, startled, and went to speak when Titus released him. “Hotes! You old dog!”

“My king,” grinned William clasping his arm in greeting. “How fares the old girl?”

“Primus is as beautiful and stable as ever. Your daughter sends her regards.”

“Chosen?” shouted a voice. Brent turned to his companions.

“My apologises. I have duties to attend.” Excusing himself he hurried off.

 

 

The king did not seek him out until two days later after the Battle of the Champions. This year he and Nathan had fought side by side, revelling in the synchronization of thought and movement they still retained after all the years. The two old friends were celebrating with their team when a runner approached them. “Chosen, the King wishes to speak with you.” Sighing Brent stood and dusted himself off.

“My friends, until later.” Following the lad, Brent was lead to the Council Chamber’s door.

 

Entering alone he found the King standing with his back to him looking out the window. “One of my favourite views,” Brent commented, locking the door and moving to stand beside him. “When you asked for this wasteland, I thought you mad. A poisoned patch of earth, decaying bodies and contaminated waterways.”

“I asked for fifty builders and five wizards for a year too,” amended the paladin. Titus waved it away with a hand. “A pittance paid for Severine. You had many volunteers.” “Aye I did, until they saw the place.” Brent grimaced at the memory.

“Even then.”

 

Titus let out a slow breath and indicated the map of Severine that had pride of place on one of the walls. “We have a problem.”

“We?”

Titus smirked. “If I have a problem then you do too.” Looking back at the map he continued. “It’s our friends to the north. The head of Halerin Territory contacted me last month about their border concerns. Apparently the Frost Giants are moving equipment and gathering in large numbers.”

“Why come to me?”

Titus gave him a withering look. “Don’t play dumb, T’elc.” Brent pursed his lips and stared at the map. Within his mind he cursed his lack of knowledge about this avenue of his previous leader’s learning. “What –exactly- are you asking me to do, Titus?” The King scowled. “I’m ordering, T’elc. Scout out the area. Find out what they’re up to. If it’s nothing serious then tell me as such. If not, make an assessment on whether diplomacy has a decent chance of working.” He looked back at the map. “Keep this one quiet, T’elc.

“Understood. I have a mission scheduled in a few days time once the festival concludes. I’ll send someone I trust with the data as soon as I’m able to accurately report.”

The lines of strain on the King’s face eased. “Knew I could trust you. We’d best get back to the festivities before we’re missed.”

 

 

 

The final day of Fortnight’s Feast ended with the traditional singing of battle hymns, feasting, puppetry and the sensible consumption of wine – at least among the faithful. Over the following three days folk began to head back to their homes. Nathan, Vanessa and Ciana left with the others from Aldur, promising that they would see each other soon. King Titus and his retinue began their journey back to Primus and things began to settle down again in the Land of Zealots.

 

 

That evening, whilst lying in bed together Patrick said, “You know, I just realised it’s about a year we’ve been together.” Tightening the arm he had around Patrick’s back, he kissed the man’s forehead. “It has,” Brent agreed happily.

“So I was thinking . . .” Brent played with his nipple until it responded in his hand then began caressing his side. “Stop that lover,” complained Patrick smacking his hand away. “You’re distracting me.” Brent grinned and ran a teasing hand up his thigh before grasping his soft manhood. “What? Innocent me?” Patrick rolled his eyes and scowled, “I’m trying to be serious for a change. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Brent laughed and continued to gently squeeze and tug his lover’s shaft. “My attention is solely on you, my siren. Keeping going.”

 

In a huff Patrick jumped up and grabbed Brent’s wrists. Kneeling over his chest he kept them restrained on the pillows. “Now, as I was saying,” continued the young man ignoring the chuckling paladin below him, “it is customary on Ring to celebrate each year of a relationship with a gift.” Brent rolled his hips underneath him, his cock making its presence known as he grinned foolishly at the disapproving look Patrick sent his way. “I have a gift for you,” Brent admitted readily.

“Not your cock,” refused Patrick. “A real gift.”

“It is a gift!” retorted Brent. “Just ask the many women that have enjoyed a Chosen’s cock over the years!” Patrick growled and pushed down harder on Brent’s wrists. “You’re spoiling this, you know.” Settling Brent tried to restrain himself and waited patiently for Patrick to say his piece.

 

“I wanted to give you something special.” He motioned for Brent to stay where he was then leant over to open a drawer on his bedside table. Withdrawing a small box he handed it to him. Sitting up Brent opened the weather-tight container. Inside were small coloured sketches of his closest friends. “And these two as well,” added Patrick handing him another two pieces of paper. Brent’s eyes widened in shock. “You posed for these?” Patrick winked.

“The artist has done nude sketches before. Don’t worry, these are for your eyes only.” Brent looked from one to the other trying to work out his favourite but couldn’t decide.

 

Placing them carefully inside the box he put it on his bedside table by his memory box. Pulling Patrick close he kissed him softly on the lips. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Cupping Patrick’s face in his hands he whispered, “I have gotten you a gift too, but I wanted to give it to you when we’re on the road.”

“I can wait,” agreed Patrick kissing him back. “After all, I waited months before I got you in the sack.”

 

“Well,” offered Brent shyly, “you could have me now. Make up for lost time and all.” Patrick grinned and moved his head down to Brent’s groin. “No,” whispered Brent grabbing his shoulders and lifting him back up. “I mean,” he left the statement hanging. Patrick blinked in surprise. “Well damn! That time in the shower must have really got you going.” Rubbing his hands together he knelt at the end of Brent’s bed and grinned broadly. Brent blushed faintly and glanced away shyly. “If you want to, that is.” Patrick nodded enthusiastically.

“A chance to take your fine arse? Always.”

 

Rolling him so that Brent was face first into the pillows with his backside in the air, Patrick introduced him to the joys of being expertly rimmed. When first Patrick had pulled apart his lower cheeks and breathed over his opening he felt Brent shudder with anticipation. By the time his tongue had teased and tormented the surrounding area Brent was groaning and thumbing his arousal above the sheets. Flicking the tip of his tongue lovingly across his tight hole he heard Brent’s breath catch in his throat. “Again,” came the hopeful whisper and Patrick grinned broadly. Leaning in he licked and sucked on his taint until he felt it pucker under his administrations. Swiftly he thrust his tongue into the tight opening, swirling it around and jabbing it back and forth. Brent cried out, caught on the edge of cumming before loosing it as the vibrations of Patrick’s laughter made him come undone.

 

Panting against the pillows Brent whispered, “I never knew it felt so good.”

“Mmm?” Patrick sounded in askance while he discreetly cleaned his tongue on his discarded clothes. He knew that Brent was great at doing it to himself and was very surprised to hear the quiet confession that followed. “I’ve never had anyone do that to me before for so long.”

“Well,” Patrick replied softly, “at least you’ve had the next part before.”

 

Rolling him back onto the mattress Patrick shoved a pillow under his hips and sat back to admire the sight. Seeing his lover flushed, his cock semi-hard and shiny with spilt seamen, eyes dark and biting his bottom lip while his chest rose and fell sharply, Patrick growled and threw himself on his lover, kissing and tasting every inch of him he could find. He felt Brent squirm and wriggle beneath him gasping for more, his cock rubbing against his own hot length. Changing position he knelt over Brent’s head and moved so that he was face to face with his lover’s firm arousal. Taking it into his mouth he was rewarded with Brent latching onto his own and groaned with pleasure. Sucking on the tip he soon engulfed his length while he gently thrust his own into his lover’s mouth. Wetting a finger he played with his hole, watching as Brent went from tense to willing, letting a second and finally third thrust in and out as he tasted his lover’s seed on the back of his throat.

 

Knowing he was close behind he pulled off and kissed Brent’s forehead. “Now,” he murmured lovingly, “now, my darling, I shall take you as my own.” Brent blushed, his smile bashful and coy. Reaching up he cupped Patrick’s face in his own. “Say it again.”

“I shall take you as my own,” repeated Patrick smiling down at him joyfully. But Brent shook his head. “No. The other part.” Patrick touched his forehead to his and bumped their noses together. “My darling,” he whispered, “my darling.” Brent sighed peacefully, his eyes closing in bliss. Kissing his forehead Patrick moved down to kneel between his legs once more. “It seems, my darling,” he repeated seeing Brent’s features soften, “that I have found my endearment for you since you have no name in our bed.”

 

Brent’s eyes began to close and he watched him shyly from behind lowered lashes as Patrick grasped his ankles once more. Smiling Patrick lined himself up and forced the head of his cock passed the tight ring of muscles. Watching his lover he whispered, “Don’t close them. I want to see the rush of excitement in your eyes when I enter you.”

 

Smiling back Brent opened them wide, his lips parting as a startled gasp escaped him. Patrick grunted with the effort to keep still, to let his lover adjust to his girth. Slowly he pulled back then slid in another inch. He wanted to be gentle but the tightness of his tunnel, the delicious heat of his sphincter crushing around his cock was too much to resist. Sensing his indecision Brent whispered, “All the way my siren. I want to feel all of you.”

 

With a loud groan Patrick forced himself the rest of the way, thrusting Brent’s muscular thighs aside to bury himself deep inside his lover. Brent’s legs came around him dragging him closer as he shivered, his pleasure-pain on a knife’s edge. Featherlike kisses covered his neck and collarbone as whispered endearments caught his ear. Little by little he relaxed only to find his lover sink deeper and the cycle to start again. Patrick moaned softly, his cock pulsing with pleasure as his lover’s breathing began to change tempo. He smiled gently and nudged his hips into his lover causing him to gasp. “A good gasp I hope,” he enquired. Brent gave him a small smile and nodded. Patrick repeated the action and was rewarded with a similar sound. “You trust me,” he stated rocking gently into his lover. “I promise, my darling, you will feel only pleasure.”

 

The rest of the night was one of joyous sensation for Brent. The gentle rocking of his lover as he ground into him gave way to more frantic thrusting. His cock rubbed against Patrick’s stomach trapped between their heated bodies. Sweat coated their bodies and all signs of gentleness were lost in their desperate need for release. Scratching and clawing at Patrick’s shoulder blades in ecstasy, Brent lost count of the times he came only to find himself aroused once more.

 

Several times he’d felt his lover still and liquid heat flood his hole. Panting Patrick had promised he’d release him soon but time and again he’d hardened and looked at him in that wicked manner that promised all sorts of unspoken pleasures. And every time Brent had clasped his lover close and moaned in rapture as his hole was plundered once more.

 

The light of dawn’s first rays crept into the room when Patrick collapsed for the last time. Unable to speak he pulled out and fell sluggishly onto the mattress by his exhausted lover. Pillows and blankets had been lost in their wantonness. Brent’s eyes remained closed as he reached out and interlaced their hands. “Come here,” slurred Patrick. “Can’t,” mumbled Brent. “Too tired.”

“Worth it?”

“Yeah.”

 

The two lay quietly, the sounds of the early morning birds and their heavy breathing filling the air. At last Patrick managed to lean up on his elbow, their fingers still entwined. “I love you, Chosen.” Brent lay there quietly with a wry smile on his face. “I’m more than a title, you know.” Patrick rolled his eyes.

“I love you, my darling,” he edited with a cheeky smile. “Better?”

“Much,” agreed Brent. Scooting closer he rested his head on Patrick’s arm and promptly closed his eyes. Patrick chuckled. “Don’t you have to get up now?”

“Screw getting up,” came the disgruntled reply. Patrick laughed and kissed his forehead. “Sleep well, my darling.” Brent smiled and kissed his chest before falling asleep. “I love you, Patrick. Sweet dreams.”

 


© Copyright 2017 Justin Fyld. All rights reserved.

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