Continue drinking with Donald.

You talk with the rest of the Beathan folk for a while. Once night has truly begun, however, the rest of them part, some for bed, some for trysts, leaving you alone with Donald, and his mysterious she-elf.

"Daena! Go get us something else to drink." Donald tells the pointy-eared woman. She shoots a look back at him, clearly not used to menial tasks, until the crown prince expedites her with a smack on the arse.

"So, what did you make of my sister?" Donald asks, as the two of you sit alone.

"She's beautiful." you answer honestly. "Impressive, formidable."

"Moreso than most of your Itherian flowers, eh?" Donald laughs. You have to give him that. "I do wish she'd lighten up, actually have some fun. If she's not training, she's riding around with that bloody Order! You ask me, she desperately needs a shag."

"Well, I'd be happy to oblige." You dirtily admit. Donald laughs uproariously.

"Y'know, when I heard Itheria were sending a cripple up, I had my doubts. No more. You've got the blood of kings flowing through your veins, no lie." Donald tells you.

"You'd be a good judge of that, man." you admit. "I've never seen a king-to-be who looked more fitting for the role. Beatha has a bright future!"

The drink, or Donald's raucous company, may have gone to your head, you think, as you embrace the crown prince once again.

"Heh, looks like we needn't suck on each other's pricks just yet." Donald laughs. "Look who's back."

Breaking the embrace, you turn back to see Daena has returned, another bottle of heady whiskey for the two of you.

"Much obliged, love." Donald smiles, taking the bottle and pulling the cork out with his teeth, before passing it to you. Daena takes a seat next to the Beathan.

"What's your story, then?" You ask Daena. "I haven't seen many elves around-"

"Daena doesn't speak." Donald tells you. "She's a woman of many talents, special abilities, but that might just be my favourite."

"So how does a human prince end up with a mute elf companion?" you ask.

"Ah, it's a long story. Suffice to say, I won her in a campaign far south, she's bound to me, she has to obey." Donald explains.

"So she's your ****?" you ask, attempting to understand.

"Definitely not." Donald says. "hm, now how do I explain this to an Itherian?" he muses.

"Ah, I know. A little practical demonstration." Donald smiles. "Daena, suck the king's cock, would ya?"

Within a span of seconds, the leather-clad elf is on her knees in the snow, skillfully undoing your breeches and fishing out your cock.