Enter your bathing room.

You rub and crack your neck as you walk through the emptying Throne Room, past your royal seat to a door beyond it. You can feel the warmth of the Royal Bath even by the touch of your hand to the knob. A natural spring flows inside, so it's always running--clean and rich with minerals, and the perfect level of heat. Whether it was Demon King Sa'dis or whoever built the castle originally, you admit they had good taste. Your bathing room is gorgeous.

At the end of every day, you look forward to a hot, relaxing soak in a chamber truly fit for a king.

As you shut the door behind you and cast your eyes towards the air rich with glistening mist by the glow of magic lights along the walls, you catch two moving figures towards the left end of the pool. Each sits upon a wooden stool.

Even if one could point out the many ways they're different in appearance, there are so many ways Amara and her mother are similar that it does feel like looking upon a pair of twins--albeit one noticeably older. Yaera Tedrilui is there with a small, woollen white towel wrapped around her buxom body. It's just barely enough to conceal goods, though it doesn't help that she sits with one leg crossed over the other in a way that draws your eyes to the long, graceful limbs elves are known for having.

Amara is to her right. She's covered by the same towel, though around her body it looks closer to a proper size. She smiles sweetly as she watches you notice their presence. Her visage is inviting, like an angel at the gates of Heaven, beckoning you to the paradise that awaits you.

They're both radiant by the light of the room, with skin touched by the spring's hot moisture. Their hair is long, though one moreso than the other, and a divine shade of vibrant gold. The mother and daughter await your approach, as if they know nothing needs to be said to encourage you to come.

As soon as you start to remove your gear, starting with your cloak, the older of the two speaks up.

"Take your time," she says. "Elves are patient."

"Are they?" you ask as you move onto your armour.

They look to one another. Then Amara admits, "Not always."

"She is young. Patience comes with age," says Yaera. "When you are finished, I have a drink I would like you to try. It is rare, and has come from afar. Do not worry. It is not my plan to make you drunk. It is alcoholic, but the consumption is symbolic."

"Is it a part of some kind of ceremony?" you ask. While you try not to rush, as it would look rather embarrassing, you are in fact removing your attire at a world record pace. It'll at least beat your PB.

"I will explain when you are finished."

The two elves watch closely as you undress. They're given a generous view as you turn and remove your final piece, revealing to them your glorious ass before it's covered by a towel. With less of you to cover, it looks far more fitting than it does on them. You aren't sure if they willingly picked out towels that weren't the right size for them, or Yin only had you in mind when putting them out.

With a towel tied around your waist, you make your way over at last.

Yaera looks to you closely with a hand to her cheek. Whether it's from the heat or not, a gentle red glows over the bridge of her nose. Her lush lashes close partly over half-lidded eyes, and for a brief moment, you catch the tip of her tongue running across her teeth and she thinks of thoughts likely unbecoming of a priestess. "I do not see you often, Kyle, which extends to my dear daughter as well. So I figured we should spend some time together. All three of us. To celebrate this occasion, I also decided to uncork a rare and valuable drink."

You turn to see Amara lifting it up from behind the stool.

The bottle is strangely shaped--warped in the middle, but somehow you can still tell it was on purpose. It's ceramic, and coloured various shades of blue over a white base. The top is plugged by a bright red cork. She runs her fingers down along the side, a little more suggestively than you expected at first. It doesn't help open the bottle to touch the cork like that anyway.

"I was given this far south of Tivera. It is of elven make. Aged, rare wine made by fermenting rice. I knew I was going to bring it here, though I was not sure how I wanted to share it. Then I thought of you, and how much you mean to my daughter, and... Well, would you please have a sip?"

"I'd be honoured, Yaera," you say, knowing that Amara loves every time you say her name, and you've gotten the vibe that her mother is exactly the same.

She sighs softly. Then, she brings her hands up to grab hold of her hefty chest, barely contained in the soft fabric of the towel. She squeezes them together and nudges them up, and for the moment, you can't figure out what's going on. What she's doing has certainly drawn your attention, but it has nothing to do with opening a bottle.

Amara stands. She takes hold of the red cork and pops it loose. She allows it to fall behind her. Then, she lifts it up carefully and tips it towards her mother. The clear liquid trickles out, and it fills between her cleavage. Her breasts are large enough to easily hold it there. None of it drains through. Then as the puddle sits between her tits, she looks to you with a stare that pierces your heart... and your balls. Saying no to those eyes is surely impossible.

"... Drink," the woman whispers. "Please?"

Amara smiles at you. Her eyes flicker downwards, noticing the reaction they're getting from your body. "Go ahead, Kyle. The wine. My mother told me that it symbolizes bonds between those we love most."