The chosen one is what? part 4

Once the chaos settled, the goblins told us about how they’d been following the army of the dark elves for a few weeks. They came from the caves in the south and brought terror upon the southern villages. The goblin prophecy foretold the elves would be stopped by the Chosen One, the saviour of all kingdoms. And they were stopped - when Marc came into this world absolutely obliterating the dark elves’ king.

“Say, Chosen One…” I began slightly sarcastically “… what brought you into this world?”

Marc turned to me. “As I have told you before: I was sent to please you.” “You were sent to pleasure me? Specifically?”

“No, I was sent to pleasure humans.”

“And in doing so, he saved all our lives. Please continue, oh chosen one.”, said one of the goblins.

“I am here for one purpose and I will do my best to fulfil that purpose.”, said Marc.

When the sun had fully set and the moon was high in the sky above us, the goblins finally left. Not before handing over a tent and some provisions as gifts to the ‘chosen one’.

“Who are you really?” The fire crackled and the smoke seemed to carry my words out into the night. Marc takes a second before answering:

“My name is Marc and I’m here to pleasure you.”

I nodded silently.

I cuddled up into the blankets the goblins left us with, my only child right next to me. Although the night was warm and the blankets cosy, I felt cold and lonely. The realisation, I had lost my husband just hours early hit me like a falling tree. I began sobbing quietly, caressing my son’s face while he slept.

Marc entered the tent quietly lying down beside me. He came closer and put an arm around me. He wasn't warm, like my husband. He was somehow too cold to feel real, but his proximity felt good. I felt protected. Like he was giving me the shelter I longed for.

I lifted the blankets a little inviting him closer. A shiver went down my spine when I felt his chest on my back, his hips inching against my behind.

In the night, I dreamt of my husband. How he was shot in front of my eyes. How he fell to the ground, his plough still in hand.

I screamed in terror and woke up, drenched in sweat. The sun was already high up and Marc was outside chopping wood. My son was resting on a patch of dry moss he draped nearby. I ran over to him and kissed my baby boy on the forehead before turning to Marc with tears in my eyes. He came over and embraced me with his arms. I looked up at him and in a moment of weakness, I kissed him. I kissed him hard and full of emotion. A kiss of sadness over the loss of my husband. A kiss of thankfulness for the help he provided us with. And a kiss of lust. I don’t know where that came from but we kissed and as we kissed he lifted me up and carried me into the tent, where I dropped my tunic before taking off his. Our bodies entangled, we fell into the sheets where I took _his _into _mine _and we made love. We hurled around panting, sweating and moaning all over each other until we reached our joint climaxes.

I woke up again, this time for real. I was drenched in sweat. The first sun rays began to fall into the slit of the tent. Trying not to wake up either of the two men, I got up and went for a stroll to a stream nearby.

The water was cold and I got goosebumps. I dropped the tunic and took a few steps into the water before cleaning it thoroughly before attending to my own bodily hygiene, thinking about my dream.

I wrung out most of the water in the tunic and went back to the tent with the still-moist garment under my arm. The morning breeze and early sun dried the remaining water droplets on my skin.

Back at the tent, I hung up my tunic on one of the lines and went back to bed.

I was awoken by Marc. He caressed my back, his fingers finding all my tense spots. “Good Morning, Marc.” I said. “Good morning, Matilde.” said Marc.