NTR & Heartbreaks (Pt 2) Brass Plated Door

As my palm embraced the gold handle, an otherworldly ****, like a magnetic whisper, seized hold of me. It felt as though some dormant entity had stirred, urgently attempting to pull my very soul through the door. Startled, I instinctively released my grip, my feet involuntarily retracing their steps as I grappled with the surreal encounter.

In that disorienting moment, Petra's voice, like a loyal guardian, materialized, weaving its soothing tendrils around my anxious heart.

“Thorjen… a-are you okay?” she inquired with genuine concern.

Her delicate voice acted as a balm, infusing me with a profound sense of calm. I took a deep breath, reassuring the sparkling gold brooch cradled in my hand that everything was alright.

Summoning my resolve, I pressed my hand against the door's handle and swung it open. A blinding, pale light awaited me on the other side, assaulting my senses with its sudden brilliance.

As the dust settled, I found myself in a ghostly form, adrift in a new world, bereft of any recollection. A subtle movement caught my attention amidst the dark stars. Lowering my gaze, I beheld a gathering of fires and a vast expanse of white—a land of snow stretching endlessly before me.

****

Hyoroh downed his sixth mug, the raucous applause and celebratory songs of his seated comrades echoing through the drinking hall. In the background, the lude player strummed delicately obscene verses, weaving a sultry melody that mingled with the soft growls of hearth fires casting amber shadows on the wooden ceilings, creating a warm, orange glow.

The bustling hall was packed to capacity, every able person in the settlement present. Bearded men with long braids, some accompanied by their wives and children, filled the space. Hyoroh took a moment to reflect on the land he had built, a settlement he had fought for against cruel chieftains.

"Finally," he thought, a victorious smirk playing on his lips. "I’ve accomplished what you couldn’t do…father."

Hyoroh's relationship with his parents, especially his father, was a mix of love and hate. His father had once been the right hand sword to a conquering chief in the northern isles. Hyoroh never aspired to be the chief; he was content being a hawker, tending to the brilliant birds in the frosted skies.

But fate had other plans. He had been thrust into leadership by his obsessive need to protect those he cherished. As a commotion stirred in the hall, a tall, buxom lady with lavishly curled red hair entered—the most beautiful woman in the entire north, his kin, his dearest little sister, Skaldi.

Men respectfully welcomed her, but behind their veneer of courtesy, lecherous gazes lingered. Hyoroh chuckled, knowing he couldn’t completely control their habits as long as they respected his sister. Skaldi, scanning the hall with an apathetic look, locked eyes with her brother, and a spark of joy lit up her face. She beelined toward his table, prompting Hyoroh to rise and meet her halfway, where they shared a warm embrace.

Her voice brushed against his ears, laden with unspoken words and shared history.

"Brother… How are you?" Her scent danced, playfully delicate like virgin roses.

"Probably drunk... but I will live. Say…" He pulled away slightly, admiring the other inhabitant dwelling inside her. "How is my nephew doing?"

"Haha, he’s fighting me with each day. Safe to say the blood of the giants is serving him well," she replied, rubbing her slightly bulging stomach.

"Heheh, of course, how can Dwarf blood stand any power of a superior race."

"Hey! Don’t forget that’s my husband you’re talking about."

"And who’s to say it’s a boy. Giantesses are known to be fearsome in the womb," she quipped proudly.

"I know a male when I see one. And we’ll name him Hagi! No-no or Throx! Real strong names," he sang loosely, clearly affected by the ale more than he initially thought.

Skaldi hid her laughter behind her pretty hands.

"Brother, you can't change what the Gods have declared. But if it’s a boy, we’ll go with Throx."

"And… if it’s a girl?"

"Hmm, how about… Arya?"

The doors were flung open suddenly, as a group of men dressed in heavy furs and leather announced themselves. The hearty songs noticeably ceased upon their arrival, faces laden with anxiety spreading across the seated folk. Hyoroh, however, seemed unconcerned. He stood idly by, watching the group waltz through the crowd.

The leader of the group, a young man with a clean-shaven face, dark features, and thick eyebrows, draped in a regal fur, approached. Confidence oozing throughout his every being. Tight-fitting leather vest and gauntlets adorned him. Hyoroh watched expressionlessly as Gorvin, the unofficial king of the deep northern plains, reached him.

“Ah, Chief of the Hyaein lands. I heard you were celebrating your victory over the Jolst men in style tonight. Ahaha, allow me to offer you my congratulations on felling such a bullheaded foe.” Gorvin performed a theatrical bow, gaining soft murmurings among the onlookers.

Hyoroh found this amusing, considering that the same fellow had declared to behead him just last winter. Yet, a year later, he adopted the appearance of peace to keep tribal unity intact. Hyoroh mirrored the energy, even offering an embrace, melting the icy feeling around the tavern. Giants were simple folk, for seconds later, the lute and songs resurfaced.

“Come, Gorvin, sit with us,” Hyoroh offered, leading him and his men toward the high table. Gorvin remained polite, gracefully holding Skaldi’s hand as he prostrated before lightly kissing the back of it. Though worried, Hyoroh watched as Skaldi closely knitted her brows together before dutifully offering a stiff greeting back.

The festivities continued, and under the taunts of many, Hyoroh found himself draining more and more horns of mead. As the evening skies fell upon the settlement, the party had emptied 16 barrels. Both he and Gorvin shared their triumphs and close **** encounters.

At some point, even the hero of the settlement found himself so drunk that he blacked out underneath another one of the many horns. Hyoroh awoke from a sudden sleep to the soft voice of a servant girl carrying a tray of freshly baked breads.

“M-my lord…are you alright?” she shyly asked, her voice riddled with youthful naivety

Half-awake, Hyoroh needed a few minutes to clear the haze swirling around his thoughts. He rubbed the side of his temple, feeling soreness against one side of his face, the side he had been lying against the table on. Flexing his jaw muscles a little, he scanned the drinking hall. Unsurprisingly, most of the roaring noise had died down since the warriors in attendance were either passed out or had already left. Yet, seated in the middle of the hall, the bard softly played a melancholy melody with the lute, drawing a small crowd of kids clapping their little hands at each verse.

A smile crept across Hyoroh’s face as he pondered the next generation. Yet to father any real kids of his own, he imagined the change that would come once his nephew was born.

‘Ah, I wonder where Skaldi has gotten to.’

Staggering upright, slightly disoriented but firmly poised, he observed his surroundings. Most of the people he shared horns with had passed out against the table.

‘That Gorvin must’ve already left. Good thing he didn’t see me in this state,’ he thought, noticing both he and his men were nowhere to be seen. He carefully walked around the sleeping bodies until he reached the back of the hall, where his chambers dwelt. The cold snap had hardened the black oak used to piece together this impressive hall. Hyoroh admired the man-made runes carved against the deep wood as he strolled along, taking in the interior. Generations of warriors had lived here, seen the same runes, and his mind drifted, left in wonder about what the future held.

Halfway through the hallway, he began to hear muffled moans reverberating against the silence. This struck him as odd, as he was almost certain nobody should be back here. His feet hastened gently, so as not to rouse the perpetrators, noticing a small freckle of amber light cast along the ground from the slightly opened door.

Hyoroh couldn't resist the allure of the moans coming from behind the partially opened door. His heart raced as he imagined the scene unfolding on the other side. The unmistakable sounds of two bodies locked in a passionate embrace grew louder and more urgent.

He could hear the wet slapping of skin against skin, punctuated by the occasional gasps and cries of pleasure.

He hesitated, unsure if he should interrupt or continue listening to the symphony of lust. But then, a voice commanded him to stay and listen: "Aah, your pussy feels amazing...I can't resist..." The woman's voice dripped with desire and need.

Hyoroh couldn't help but feel aroused, his own body reacting to the sounds of ecstasy. He listened intently as the man took charge, his primal grunts mirroring the thrusts that echoed through the hallway.

The woman's moans grew louder and more urgent, her words becoming incoherent as she surrendered to pleasure. And then, finally, release for both of them: "Y-yes! Oh god, yes!" The woman cried out in bliss.

Hyoroh stood there, transfixed by the erotic display unfolding on the other side of the door. It wasn't until they were finished that he snapped out of his trance and realized what had just happened. A part of him felt embarrassed , but another part couldn't deny how turned on he was.

Hearing them nearing their end a sigh of relief washed against Hyoroh as he drew closer towards the door.

The room was filled with heavy breathing and the sounds of something wet being sloshing and stirred. At that moment Hyoroh peered through the small gap, a look of shock drew against his face.

A cruel smirk twisted Gorvin's lips as he spoke, his words dripping with sickening satisfaction.

"Heh-heh, your pussy is still my favorite... I told you I was the only cock you ever needed." He said giving the woman's ass a firm smack.

"That small man having such a beautiful giantess to himself is laughable." Gorvin continued, his voice filled with contempt and possessiveness. "That's why you'll always be mine, you and our unborn child... Skaldi."

A sinking pale fury sparked within Hyoroh. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process what he was hearing. Did Gorvin just say...? The thought made him feel physically ill. He couldn't believe it..."s-surely n-not..."

With shaking hands, Hyoroh pushed himself away from the wall and **** himself to move towards the door. His presence went unnoticed at first, but when he saw his beloved little sister sprawled on a long table with her ass exposed, he felt like he was in a nightmare.

Her dress had been pulled up to reveal her large and pale ass, covered in a copious amount of white liquid. Squelching sounds echoed softly around the room as the thick ooze trailed down her legs.

In a fit of blind rage, Hyoroh drew his sword from its sheath and charged towards Gorvin who stood with his back turned towards him. As soon as the fellow turned around and saw Hyoroh approaching, fear and wildness filled his eyes. His arm dropped quickly to his hip, where he secured a dagger tucked between his roped belt. But before he could even utter a sound, Hyoroh slashed vertically with all of his might.

A spray of carmine erupted into the air, a gruesome accompaniment to the sickening sound of flesh being violently severed. The moment Gorvin's head tumbled to the ground, Skaldi's screams reverberated, a primal wail that seemed to pierce the very fabric of the air.

Hyoroh, a figure drenched in the crimson aftermath, stood amidst the carnage, his blood-soaked sword a testament to the brutality of the act.

"WH-wh-wh…what h-have you…d-d-done..." Skaldi's voice trembled, lost in the shadow of her anguish.

The echoes of her despair were quickly drowned out by the approaching sounds of footsteps swiftly squeaking against the hard oak wood floorboards. A deep, resigned sigh escaped Hyoroh’s lips as he used his blood-soaked hand to comb his reddish hair over his scalp.

"It seems the time of peace between tribes is over." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of shattered alliances and the dawn of a new era...an era of war.

******

Once those words were spoken, the scene turned hazy again, enveloped in smoke that covered the entire hall, transporting Thorjen to another mysterious realm.

When the fog lifted, he found himself overlooking a dense blue forest from a bird’s eye view. He felt as though he were soaring through the skies, a small crow with mysterious beauty masking his body beneath the twilight. Above in the air, stars stitched the spread of moonlight, and voices could be heard as he descended toward the blue forest.

Two figures roamed the forest bed, the air thick with anxiety and vigilance. Arya led the way, clad in bronze-stoned armor, her arms bearing cuts and slight bruises. Her disheveled hair spoke of the challenges they faced. Trailing her was Julien, slightly chubby-faced but taller now, dressed in knightly attire.

“Ar-arya, wait… I can’t go on,” Julien desperately voiced.

“Fuck! Can't you endure it a little longer? We… we need to-”

“I know… Trust me, I know. We can't lose him again, I get it, but…”

“But nothing! He needs us now more than ever. There’s no telling what will happen if he continues like this… they’ll… they’ll kill him. And what if it was us? If we were the ones in his shoes, he would never abandon us.” Arya's voice sounded broken, tears welled against her eyes.

A look of surprise flashed across Julien’s face, Arya’s reaction revealing a truth he had just now understood.

“W-wait, so… you and him were… since when?”

Arya's slender frame shuddered a little, her pale cheeks turning pink as she averted her eyes.

“It’s… none of your business. He’s someone I truly respect. It's not uncommon for these things to… happen.” Twirling a lock of fiery red hair, Julien could sense the discord in her heart.

“Sigh… I understand. You aren’t the first beautiful woman who would do anything for him. But still… this forest is dangerous, and we’ve been doing nothing but charging forward and defeating anything in our way. If we encounter the royals… then we.”

“Then we die fighting! You’re supposed to be his brother; how the fuck are you okay with us leaving him like this!”

“I’m not okay with anything! But one of us has to be practical here! It’s already dark, and the level of beasts roaming these lands will only increase while our own level continues to drop. We’re no use to him if we die now. Please… he would never forgive me if I let you die a fool's ****.”

Julien’s words seemed to have hit home. Arya was torn between two minds before realizing that a rest was the only way to ensure she was at optimum strength when it came down to fighting.

They found a peaceful-looking clearing just beside a slanted old oak. The ground here was slightly even, providing a good resting place to pitch their tent. Of course, being seasoned knights, they had no intention of sleeping inside the tent. In case of an ambush, they had both decided to sleep within the trees.

Julien had prepared well, conjuring many rations from his expensive spatial ring. However, he realized he had been shortsighted about this journey. Given the **** measures of the situation, he had prepared things for only himself, not taking into account an extra body. Unknowingly or knowingly, he forgot to pack a second tent.

“Erm... Arya... I... I only packed one tent,” he admitted sheepishly, much to Arya’s dismay, who tried her best to keep her anger in check. She ended up controlling her expected outburst by gently thumbing her labella while taking short breaths.

“It’s... It’s fine... We’ll figure something out.”

The pair had just finished the last food they would eat for the day. A chilling air had befallen over the forest, accompanied by a stiff passing wind that carried a great sense of foreboding terror behind it.

Arya couldn’t sit still, her restlessness palpable, and she wasn't in the mood for conversation. Sensing her unease, Julien struggled with what to say. Then, a sudden idea sparked in his mind. Observing her body fighting off the biting winds, he took out a weighted, palm-sized gourd from his spatial ring, uncorking it. A sweet and potent aroma flowed out, making Julien gag slightly.

Surprisingly, Arya found it amusing, her laughter bouncing softly against the frigid silence of the forest. Julien felt a strange delight seeing her beautiful smile, warming his heart after all they had been through. It felt good to smile.

Time flowed gently above their helms as they continued to drink and share past tales. Julien relished taking the lead, sharing a trove of stories from the blue mountain. Arya was particularly excited to hear about these experiences.

By the time they reached the bottom of the gourd, Julien remembered why he hated drinking. Unlike his brother, who seemed to have a peculiar tolerance for sweet wine, Julien couldn’t stand it. However, he understood how crucial it was to keep warm during these cold nights. As the moonlight appeared directly above them, a deep, frosty wind swept through the forest floor.

“We should make a bigger fire, or else we’ll freeze to ****,” Julien suggested.

“N-no…we might only attract more attention to us. We should…” Arya hesitated for a brief moment, her words caught in her throat. Julien stared at her side profile awkwardly, uncertain whether she had drunk too much or was embarrassed about something.

“Wh-what’s the matter?”

“It’s no-nothing. (Hiccup) We should… try and get warm quickly,” Arya said before crawling into the tent. Julien was a little surprised; he had expected her to choose a branch for the night.

“I… I guess I should sleep outside to give you your own space.”

“Sh-shut up and just come in… you wouldn’t be the first guy I was **** to sleep beside,” she responded less angrily than he would’ve thought.

“Heh-heh, you make it sound like I'm repulsive.”

“You're not the worst I've seen, Elf... but you're far from the best.”

Julien crawled into the tent again, surprised by the sight before him. It looked as though Arya had made herself comfortable, having removed all the pieces of her armor. She was swaddled tightly beneath the heavy fur covers, wearing only a light shirt at this point.

Arya had already claimed her side of the narrow tent. Julien noticed the cue and quickly positioned himself on the adjacent side of the enclosed space. Since the size of the tent wasn’t the biggest, Arya’s scent filled the entire air. Julien could hear her breathing as they both remained in silence.

“Julien… do you think… he really betrayed us all?”

Her voice crackled into a frail whisper.

Julien couldn't answer that question straightforwardly because, deep down, even he wasn't sure. A deep sigh escaped his mouth as he flipped onto his back, staring into the four-point ceiling where the tent met through the middle. His eyes lost in the fabric of the unknown.

“We’ll be alright...I promise...we’ll find him, and... we’ll make things right.”

Julien could hear Arya’s breath quickening beside him, faint sobs escaping her mouth.

He stretched out his hand towards her, delicately stroking her arm. At first, Arya flinched, but he persisted, and she seemed to allow it.

Suddenly, she broke out into a stream of tears. Julien sat upright and shifted closer beside her without a second thought. He wrapped a single arm around her, tenderly stroking her head.

“H-how did it get like this (sobs) W-h-why do they ha-hate him so much,” she cried.

Julien held her tightly, this time making sure to tuck her closer into his bearish arms.

“We will find him, and we’ll bring him home...I... I promise,” he spoke.

Arya lifted her gaze towards him, and at that moment, Julien wasn't sure whether it was the ale, but he was filled with a sense of yearning as he stared into her deep blue eyes. Using his thumb, he thumbed her strands of hair over her ears.

“No...please...don't…” Arya's words were barely audible as she struggled against Julien's grip. Her eyes pleaded for him to stop, but he saw the desire burning behind them and took it as his invitation.

With a predatory glint in his eye, Julien closed in on her, trapping her between his body and the wall. He pressed his lips roughly against hers, forcing his thick tongue past her trembling lips. The taste of Elven wine lingered on her tongue, only serving to fuel his already insatiable lust.

Arya weakly pushed against him, trying to break away from his overpowering hold. But Julien was relentless, his hands roaming over her body like a hungry beast. He cupped her breast with one hand, squeezing and pinching her nipples until she moaned in pleasure through their **** kiss.

Feeling her arousal, Julien tore his mouth away from hers and latched onto her neck, leaving trails of hot kisses along her skin. Despite her feeble protests, Arya couldn't deny the pleasure coursing through her body as Julien's rough touch sent shivers down her spine. With each moan that escaped her lips, Julien felt himself losing control, giving into his primal desires without hesitation.

Julien exerted even more strength as he pinned her down, eagerly kissing and nibbling at her neck before trailing his tongue down her collarbone towards her perfectly sculpted breasts.

He had always imagined that she had an enviable figure hidden beneath her armor, but he was taken aback by just how perfect she looked. For a few moments, all he could do was admire her before teasingly pulling on her pink nipples.

He hovered over her chest, hungrily sucking on her nipples like a wild animal. Arya writhed and trembled under his touch, while Julien's thick fingers slipped into her tight, wet opening.

"No...please, don't do this...he's your...your...brother...oh!" She tried to protest, but Julien had rehearsed everything he had been taught. Slowly, he slid two fingers inside her despite the slickness of her juices. She was incredibly tight. With an intense vigor, he continued to thrust his fingers deep into her, causing Arya to moan loudly and lose herself in pleasure.

"Julien...something is coming..." she managed to say through panting breaths.

Her body convulsed as she reached a powerful climax.

Julien withdrew his fingers, smirking triumphantly as he looked at the usually proud and composed girl now lying in a state of euphoria.

Arya struggled to keep her mind focused until she felt the firm length of him slowly entering her. It was then that she jolted awake from her haze.

“No! Please, stop- anything but this!”

Julien's thrusts were relentless, plunging his entire rod deep into her tight hole with brutal ****. The sensation of her fleshy walls gripping him almost sent him over the edge. But he fought against it, determined to make her scream and moan even louder. With each thrust, the wet sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the tent, driving them both wild with desire.

Arya lost herself in the raw passion of their lovemaking, taking control as she straddled him and bounced with a ferocity that ignited an animalistic frenzy between them. They couldn't get enough of each other, their

lust consuming them until they were both physically exhausted. Even when they took short breaks to catch their breath, Arya's inner conflict was evident as she left to be alone before returning for more intense lovemaking sessions. As the days passed, their hunger for each other grew, fueled by arguments and primal urges that could not be ignored. And for two days straight, they devoured each other without restraint or inhibitions.

On the 4th day,

Arya was seated on a log, the morning sunlight casting a glow on her, and the aftermath of intimate moments left her thin shirt clinging to her body.

Her gaze, however, was filled with emptiness as she stared absently into the open air. The sound of snapping twigs broke her thoughts, and she felt Julien approaching from the direction of their camp. A soft sigh escaped his mouth as he found an empty space to be seated just beside her.

Arya’s mood was the same, but this time a deep sense of foreboding regret lingered in her gaze

“I’ve become just like them, haven’t I?” Arya spoke.

“Wh-what do you mean by that?”

“I…betrayed him. Sigh…remember what he told us. Just before he left us. He said this would happen. That everyone will betray him in the end…he somehow knew this would all happen. (sobs) Hyuk, I’m… so terrible.”

Tears streaked down the side of her face, and Julien could say nothing. He understood all too well the ramifications of what he had done too.

“First his mother… Theyja… and now…”

ROARRRRRRR

A violent quake startled the entire forest. Both Arya and Julien tossed **** stares towards the heavens. What they saw across the once peaceful air left their eyes rattling out of fear.

“N-n-no way…”

Julien muttered brokenly. Arya stood up from the log, a look of anguish glazed across her fragile glare. “Dr…dragons?”

A herd of dozen winged creatures appeared across their heavens, the arrival of such creatures only spelled the beginning of something they both had desperately hoped would never come to fruition. The war they wished to avoid had finally begun.