Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy


Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy


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.


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.

Chapter41 (v.1) - Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 11, 2016

Reads: 178

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 11, 2016





Sleep was elusive for the Chosen during the days that followed Patrick’s return. While the rest of the Land of Zealots returned to normal, those that lived in Stance Keep began preparations for war in earnest. Extra drills were held, spare equipment manufactured and healing potions rapidly stockpiled. At the behest of King Titus they had been ordered north in support of Halerian Territory and were awaiting word of their marching orders.


Although more serious and solemn as he went about his duties, the Chosen made a point of continuous being seen in the protective role in regards to his manservant. It wasn’t long before Patrick felt stifled by the constant tugging on his hand and the arm, that wasn’t wrapped so much as glued, around his waist.


“Brent, just back off!” complained Patrick at one point. “I swear no one’s going to grab me within our home. I’m perfectly safe here.” Brent ignored his outburst and continued to wait by the door for him. Angry, Patrick threw himself into the nearest chair and refused to accompany him. Huffing Brent moved to stand over him and folded his arms. “You want me to back off?”

“Yes. You’re suffocating me!” Brent’s eyes turned steely.

“Fine.” Turning on his heel he left the room, their chamber door banging closed behind him.


Yet the night times were worst. Behind closed doors sleep eluded the paladin. The ramifications of his past judgement and the turmoil of almost loosing his lover affect him almost as much as his unspoken terror of the upcoming war with the frost giants. At first Patrick had tried to coax him to bed, then later simply sat with him until he fell asleep.



Patrick was conversing with his friends in the stables when he saw Brent ride in with one of his lieutenants. Separating from his companion the paladin called out, “Patrick? A moment of your time.” Casually the young man crossed to where his master was swiftly brushing down Aurik with practised strokes of a brush. Brent flashed him a brief smile while he continued to work. “Do you have plans tonight?” he asked softly. Patrick raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on his hip. “You planning to watch the stars some more?” he teased.


Seeing Brent’s frown he sighed and leant his head on Brent’s shoulder. “I wish we hadn’t split over summer.” He felt the paladin still and an arm snake its way around his waist. “So do I,” murmured Brent. Tilting Patrick’s chin he kissed his lips with tenderness. “You haven’t answered my question, you know.” Patrick hesitated then admitted quietly, “You haven’t been the best company lately.” Brent caressed the side of his face. “Let me make it up to you tonight,” he coaxed. “Just you and me.”  Patrick gave him a wry smile. “In that case I think I may just be able to squeeze you in to my busy schedule.”

“Dinner in our room.” Brent waited for his response. When he nodded he lifted Patrick’s hands to his lips and kissed them. “Until tonight then.”



Brent re-arranged the table setting one more time before running his hands through his hair in frustration. Their usual table was adorned with a light blue tablecloth, folded napkins, two single plain silver candles and a vase full of buttontops and lilacs. He had pulled the table right under the window so that they could admire the view while they ate.


Dressed in long black pants that hugged his form he checked his knee high boots shone in the mirror before playing with the crisp loose white shirt he wore. The tiny weight in his pocket was driving him to distraction and it was with much relief when he heard the door knock. Answering it he ushered Patrick in. “Go shower. I’ve pulled out some clothes for you already.” Chuckling Patrick rolled his eyes.

“That’s overly forward of you.”

“Ha! That’s rich coming from the man who kissed me before our first date.” Passing him by Patrick dropped his clothes in a tempting trail as he crossed the room. “Yes, but what a kiss. Care to partake again?” he offered pausing by the doorway as naked as the day he was born. Brent had to shake himself to prevent himself from following him. “Hurry up. Dinner will be here soon.”


The sound of running water still hummed in the background when their food arrived. One of the covered silver trays went to the side bench for dessert while Brent deposited the rest on the table. “I could save more time by eating naked!” shouted Patrick while he towelled off. Brent snorted as he poured a glass of wine for his lover and one of aerated apple juice for himself, “Time before eating or time before getting laid?”


“They’re not exclusive of each other!” joked Patrick emerging from the bathroom. Brent felt the air rush from his lungs. Tousled hair caught wayward water droplets above shining green eyes. The dark maroon shirt and tight black pants ended with Patrick’s bare feet. Crossing the floor Brent fixed his lover’s collar and whispered unthinkingly, “You are so beautiful.” Patrick’s sexy grin turned shy when he saw the honest look of awe and worship that shone from his paladin’s eyes. Leaning in he pressed their lips together and was rewarded with a loving sigh. Offering him his arm Brent led him over to table and held out a chair for him. Once Patrick sat he removed their platter lids with a flourish. “Dinner is served.”



While they ate their conversation flowed easily from family history, favourite highlights of their time apart to amusing anecdotes of Jason and Aly’s romance. When their plates were cleared Brent stood and held out a hand. Taking it Patrick was pulled to his feet and into his arms. Stepping away from the table he placed a hand on Patrick’s waist and lifted his hand in the other. Patrick looked at him curiously. In a droll voice Brent muttered, “Shaking one’s arse is a fine way for you to dance, but this is far better.” Very slowly he pulled Patrick into a simple waltz. As Patrick became more confident and needed less encouragement, Brent began to hum the count rather than say it. Brent lifted an eyebrow when the man in his arms chuckled. “What wicked thought are you thinking, my siren?” Dropping his hand from Brent’s shoulder he ran it over his backside instead. “How more entertaining this dance would be naked.” Brent grinned wolfishly, spinning him with one hand.

“How do you know I’m not picturing you that way right now?” Patrick’s mirth increased. “Why dream when you can have the real thing?”


Pulled close once more Patrick’s nimble fingers began to slip under the edge of Brent’s shirt. Pulling them to a stop Brent dragged him close and crushed their lips together, his hands running possessively over the fine body in his grasp. He felt Patrick’s answering erection to his own pulsing one and quickly backed him to the nearest wall. Trapping him there Brent hissed, “Damn it, Patrick!” His hands swiftly loosened Patrick’s pants and pushed them to his knees. “We could,” groaned Patrick as he did the same to Brent’s, “take this to bed?”


“No,” grumbled Brent grabbing the oil on the nearest shelf and slicking himself up. “We’re finishing dessert first.” Patrick laughed and turned to face the wall, his backside presented for any oiling he might deem to add. “And here I thought I was dessert.” Pressing a finger inside him Brent heard the answering groan as he made come hither motions by the small hard almond inside him. “No this, this is like releasing excess steam before we explode.” Pulling out he lined up his swollen member and felt Patrick brace himself accordingly. Entering him it took no more than five thrusts before they were both panting and chafing at his slow speed. “Just bloody do me already,” hissed Patrick, his backside peddling against his lover’s hips. Brent groaned and gripped his waist tightly. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he growled, his restraint failing. “We’ve only had one night together in two months.”

“All the more reason,” urged Patrick. “Now old man, show me what you’re made of and fuck me already!”


Giving his libido the green light Brent rammed into his lover with a passion. Patrick braced an arm around his head to protect it from the stone wall after several near misses. “Harder!” he moaned lustily. Unable to reach the angle he desired, Brent glanced around the room until he spied his empty work desk. Yanking his lover off the wall, he kept himself embedded as they stumbled across the two metres to its firm wooden surface. Now at right angles Patrick’s moans became interspersed with whines as Brent worked them to fever pitch. Knowing he would not last much longer he reached around and gripped Patrick’s leaking cock in his hand, swiftly thumbing over it until Patrick wordlessly cried out. Feeling his lover’s hot tight tunnel clench down on his own cock, Brent slammed himself deep and stayed there as he flooded his insides with his seed.



“Well,” grinned Patrick once their clothes were once more respectfully arranged, “that was certainly an interesting dance lesson.” Chuckling Brent kissed his cheek.

“Quite. Now for dessert.” Gesturing for Patrick to take his seat Brent walked over to the side bench. With his back to Patrick, he swallowed nervously before lifting the silver platter from the bench and placing it on the table.


He was about to reveal it when a frantic banging began on the door. Swearing under his breath he motioned for Patrick to not touch a thing while he answered the door. Upon sighting a resolute Damien his ire vanished. “Communication spell. Council Chamber.”


Brent dashed to the Council Chamber with Damien and Patrick on his heels. Inside he saw the mirror used for communication placed in the centre of the long table. An anxious face scanned the room. “You’re here!” The distorted voice wavered as the spell stabilised. Patrick swiftly adjusted the mirror while they spoke. “I haven’t time to wait,” muttered the face in the mirror before raising his voice. “Chosen, we’ve been attacked. Aberteen burns tonight.”

“What?” demanded Brent, his mind quickly processing through shock. “Details, Jarad.” The lord of Halerin held up a piece of paper and scanned it.

“Aberteen sits by my northern border. Sometime after midday fire spread throughout the village. People and animals were crushed and slaughtered. Survivors say they saw Frost Giants leaving the vicinity carrying dead cattle.” Looking up the lord demanded, “I need you now, T’elc. I’ve already sent my army north an hour ago when the report came in. I’m heading there myself after I make contact with Titus.”


“We’re eight days hard march away,” interjected Damien. “We’d be dead on our feet when we arrive.” Jarad shook his head.

“Too late. I have some wizards here. Mass teleportation using our power well. We can get you here to my capital. Then it would only be two days march.” Brent shared a look with Damien. “How soon will the spell be ready?”

“Six hours.”

Damien scratched his chin. “We’d need more to group.”

“And we’d have to get outside the protective barrier around the Keep as well,” mused Brent thinking quickly. “Can you teleport us at dawn?”

“Done.” The mirror flickered out and the men looked at one another in the sudden silence.


Brent snapped into commander mode. “Damien, give the men until two hours after midnight then rouse them. Assemble our best, weapons ready and packs prepared. We’ll need to use the stairway on the roof to access our power well.” Damien snapped to attention and gripped Brent’s arm in thanks. “I won’t let you down.” Turning to Patrick he frowned. “Wake up the cook and get his arse moving,” he ordered. “If he doesn’t move quick enough remind him that I’ll be down there with a sharp sword and no patience within the hour.” Patrick nodded and risked a brief hug.

“So much for our date.”  Holding him at arm’s length Brent held his eyes and said,

“When you are done, go to our room and have dessert. I’ll be back as soon as I get the horses, siege equipment and clerics moving.” Then he was out the door.



Patrick waited an hour before he decided to try the dessert. Forsaking the window where he had stood watch over the hurried movements of boys rushing satchels of bread, salted meat and vegetables, he made his way to the table and sat. His bag was already packed – he and Brent had had the discussion around his going and had prepared accordingly. His mind began to wonder if this could be his future, eating alone in Brent’s room. When his thoughts strayed to why he ate alone in his daydream he angrily shook his head, refusing to harbour such dark thoughts.


Reaching out he lifted the lid off the silver platter. A small sweet cake sat in the centre of the plate. Decorated with lilacs made from fluffy purple frosting, their inner yellow white highlights made from some tiny sweet lolly. Green stems were gathered with a piece of real string from which hung two tiny wooden rings. A small folded card rested beside it. Patrick’s smile turned to shock as he read the words written in the Chosen’s unmistakable handwriting. ‘I have often called you mine. Will you make it true?’


“What do you think?” came a voice from the doorway. Patrick jumped out of his seat and spun around. Leaning against the closed door Brent smiled his enigmatic smile and waited patiently. At least, he hoped that was how it appeared. His heart was trapped in a loop of racing and stopping until he heard his answer.


Glancing down at the cake Patrick said softly, “The rings are a little small. Were you planning to shrink me down to size?”

“Does that mean you’d wear one?” countered Brent quietly. Patrick cracked a small smile. “Yes, but I fear you might squish me unless you shrink too.”


Brent chuckled, relieved at the break of tension with Patrick’s joke. Crossing the room he took Patrick’s hand in his own and knelt on one knee. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?” Patrick rolled his eyes.

“You think I’m gonna let your fine arse walk away from me?” Brent’s eyes narrowed at his light-hearted tone. Sobering Patrick looked down at him uncomfortably. “Get up, would you?”


Brent’s stomach fell away. ‘Hextor’s balls!’ he hissed internally. ‘Did I misjudge this too?’ Deliberately hardening his face into a blank expression he drew himself up tall. “Now don’t do that,” warned Patrick grasping his chin and giving it a small shake. Brent lifted an eyebrow and Patrick waggled a finger in response. “I know when you’re jumping to conclusions about me, about us. Well you’re not doing it this time.”


“I am going to marry you.” Patrick saw the elation that filled his lover’s eyes and added, “One day.” Brent stayed silent. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Patrick continued, “Don’t think I don’t love you because I do. It’s just . . . ” Patrick looked down at table where the cake sat then back to his lover. “I need to know some things first. Uncomfortable things.” Clearing his throat Brent enquired,

“What do you need to know?”


Patrick bit his lower lip and looked up at Brent through his eyelashes. “I know we don’t talk about it much, but there’s a good chance I’ll outlive you. I’m younger and I’m not a fighter. What happens to me after your gone?”

“That would be up to you,” replied Brent softly. “You will always have a place here. All that is mine would be yours except for the control of my lands. But you would live comfortably.” Patrick nodded slowly, frowning.

“You know I’m not –” Brent lifted his hand to stop him.

“I know, Patrick. You’re with me because –primarily- I’ve got a sexy arse and you’ve fallen in love with me. Not because of monetary value or political position.” Cupping his face in a hand he asked, “What else is holding you back?”


Worried eyes met his. “The timing of your proposal. It’s not because you think you’re gonna die, is it?” Empathy filled the paladin’s face. Pulling Patrick to his chest he hugged him close. “No I don’t intend to die any time soon, beloved. I am scared of what is ahead, but nothing is going to stop me leading a long, happy, sex-filled life with you.” He felt Patrick’s grin against the skin of his neck. “But,” he added tilting Patrick’s head so that he could meet his eyes, “I am aware this possible war will be very dangerous. I like the idea of a wedding to celebrate at the end of it. If we have to fight, everyone will need some sign of normalcy returning. If we don’t, then a celebration is definitely in order.”


After several minutes Brent felt Patrick fumble with the edges of his clothes. “What are you doing?”

“Searching for your pockets.”

“Why?” Patrick grinned.

 “For the potion you need to shrink me down to size for that wooden ring.” Shaking his head Brent caught his hands and clasped them together beneath his. “Say the words, Patrick.”

“Yes, Brent T’elc. I will marry you.” Patrick’s smile broadened. “You didn’t flinch at his name.” Brent kissed his knuckles and replied,

“You’ve given me a fair bit of practise at that.”


Releasing him he pulled the small box from his hidden pocket. Withdrawing the ring he slid it onto Patrick’s waiting finger. Lifting it to his eyes Patrick gasped. “Brent, it’s beautiful!” The solid silver titanium ring widened over the back of his finger before tapering into a thin line where it lay near his palm. A simple silver band decorated each edge. Between the two bands small geometric patterns were engraved onto the metal. But most eye-catching of all was the large dark blue gem that adorned it. “It’s benitoite,” explained Brent quietly. “And it’s more than just an engagement ring.”


Patrick stared at the ring in wonder, lifting it to the light. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“North of here is a cave,” admitted Brent cautiously. “Inside that cave are blankets, a medical kit, firewood, tinder, healing potions, bottled wine, several casks of water, a change of clothes – everything that you could possibly need except food. There are some scrolls for that though,” he added belatedly. Patrick looked at him curiously. “Why tell me this?”

“If you are ever in danger you must activate this ring. No matter where you are in Severine, it will teleport you to the cave immediately. You and no other.” Patrick peered at ring more closely. “I’ve seen rings of teleport before. They’re not cheap.” Brent grinned wryly. “No, they’re not.”


“How do I activate it?” Taking Patrick’s hand in his own Brent pointed out four small clips on the side of the crystal. “Unlock these, turn the benitoite one-eighty degrees,” he explained while demonstrating the technique. “See the colour change? Good. Once it glows, press down and hold for five seconds.” He corrected the ring back to its original position. “Sounds easy enough,” acknowledged Patrick giving it a go. Once he had the pattern he looked up and smiled at Brent. “This is pretty cool, Brent.”


Returning his smile Brent stood and offered him a hand to his feet. “Time for bed. We have about three hours until we need to go.” Patrick glanced sideways at him as they walked over together. “I don’t think I can sleep knowing we’re going into battle so soon,” he admitted quietly. Stripping Brent grinned at him hungrily. Throwing his lover onto the mattress he knelt over him and began to kiss his way down his chest. “Good, because I don’t intend to ‘sleep’ either.”


© Copyright 2018 Justin Fyld. All rights reserved.


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