The Afterglow

After all was said and done, Fate sat cross-legged on the bed with Aria in his lap. His cock was still engorged and stiff, and the princess had insisted that it remain inside her even though neither of them were really making an effort to move or achieve sexual stimulation. He would not deny her, nor did he want to; it felt good to be inside her even without the goal of orgasm in mind. While his arms were wrapped around her from behind in a loving embrace, he felt himself being embraced by her delicate flower at the same time.

Occasionally she would wiggle her hips or swivel in place, but this was clearly meant to keep his stiffness, or to flirt with him in a way he was growing to love.

Just like Aria, Fate was happier than he had ever been in his life. It was no coincidence and was for the same reason as her. Aria’s virginity had been taken by the love of her life; his own virginity had been likewise taken by the love of his life. There were many times on his journey to the Dark Kingdoms that he would pass a bordello and think to relieve himself, but he never did. There were even women who offered themselves to him, but he refused. And he was glad he did if for no other reason than sharing this sense of oneness with Aria.

“Thank you,” Aria said at last.

“For what?” Fate asked. He briefly believed she was responding to his own meandering thoughts and thanking him for not letting himself be taken by another woman before today.

“For being every bit as wonderful as I had always hoped you would be,” Aria replied and turned her head to lay a gentle kiss upon his cheek. She grabbed one of the arms that was wrapped around her waist and brought it up to her chest. Fate could feel the amazing softness of her breasts against his arm and was more than happy to hold it there and feel the gorgeous buds of her nipples poke against his skin in their stiffness.

“That’s not fair,” Fate said, “as a knight in service to Syldon it should have been I to exclaim the truth of my feelings before Your Highness. For it was just as wonderful for me to become one with my love.”

Aria giggled cutely.

“It was for your heart and hand that I ventured out to slay the Dark King in the first place. I had hoped that your father would agree to let me take your hand in marriage when I returned victorious.” Fate laughed, “Oh how these dark lands have a twisted sense of humor, for I suppose I have gotten exactly what I wanted in the end.”

Aria placed a hand over his and urged it to squeeze her breast more. “I am happy that your dream came true, no matter the details, because I am a part of it.”

Fate was about to take this comment in stride, letting it flow in one ear and out the other like a gentle breeze. But then he really thought about it. He found that he envied this sentiment a great deal. The princess truly had the right of it. She wasn’t thinking too much about this, she wasn’t dwelling on what led her to this point, nor was she even considering what the future may hold. She was content, nay, happy that she was allowed to share this time with him at last.

“Your highness,” Fate began, but the princess stopped him.

“Please, I am your princess no longer. Will you not call me by my name?”

Fate nodded, “That is fair, as long as you will drop my own title. Whatever titles I may hold now, a knight of Syldon is not among them.”

“Fate, it is then,” she replied, smiling. Just hearing her say his name in such a casual and intimate manner brought to him such a powerful feeling of euphoria. “I apologize for interrupting you, please continue.”

“Yo—” he stopped himself, “Aria,” the word felt like a swear on his tongue, and why shouldn’t it? Years of court manners had been figuratively and sometimes literally beaten into him. But perhaps because of his current sense of oneness with his beloved, he knew that addressing her so informally had the same effect on her that it had on him. “I would thank you. I believe you have opened my eyes in a way nobody else could. I think I am prepared to make my decision now.”

“Did I really help you?” she asked, turning to him and wiggling her hips in a manner that immediately brought a shock of pleasure to him, and made his stiffness twitch inside her.

Fate nodded and smiled at her.

“As long as you keep your promise to keep me by your side no matter what, I will be happy,” Aria said, and Fate knew that she meant every word.

He would keep this promise, and he would accept the throne of the Dark King. He would lead this realm into a better path with a far better tomorrow.

When at last Fate decided to leave the princess’ bedchambers, after a bittersweet goodbye in which he was almost tempted to stay with her for the rest of the night, he was met once again with the northern warrior woman charged with protecting her.

“Desca, was it?” Fate asked.

She grunted a reply that sounded affirming enough.

“Thank you again, I leave her in your care.”

She shrugged off the sentiment, “I am not under your command yet, king-slayer. She’ll be in my care for as long as my mistress demands it and not a moment longer.”

“That is fair,” he replied, taking the comment in stride. “Will you at least direct me toward the throne room?”

Without saying a word, she pointed down a corridor and Fate began walking that direction. He walked with quite a bit of spring in his step, he was on cloud nine right now. Not only did he just participate in the sexual encounter of his dreams, but his love for princess Aria was also reciprocated in full. He had ample reason to feel as good as he did.

It was perhaps for this reason that he did not notice that his movements were being shadowed. And truly he should have no reason to be on guard, he had been assured by the princess of this castle that he was to be treated as an honored guest. Even still he would have been more cautious under normal circumstances for two simple reasons: it was in his nature to be cautious, and because the dark elves from earlier clearly had it out for him.

But it was not a dark elf that shadowed him, it was someone far stealthier and far more cunning. Her slender body, clad in black leather, was wrapped tightly in midnight purple ceremonial cloth. The only skin that was exposed besidess her face was a triangle of pale cleavage from her impressive bust. Though her breasts were not as large as either of the princesses, they were still a close third in proportion to this silent stalker’s shorter stature.

Adorning the top of her dark purple shoulder-length messy hair was a pair of similarly colored fox ears and sprouting from just above her firm and plump rear was a bushy and fluffy purple tail. Both the very tips of her tail and her ears were a brilliant neon blue, and the same color accented and adorned the minor details of her robes and leather suit.

Her narrow, sharp, and void-like black eyes were locked on Fate as he made his way through the corridors not even a yard ahead of her. Her footfalls were completely silent against the flagstone walkways. In a strange and lightless burst of neon blue flames, three throwing darts, or “kunai” as they were called in the silent figure’s homeland, appeared between her fingers, blades pointing outward, ready to throw.

If, in that moment, Fate had not passed by a hanging lantern from the nearby wall, and if the light from said lantern had not reflected from one of the well-polished kunai in the assassin’s hand to gleam on the nearby wall, our tale would have ended here in tragic brevity. But gleam it did, and Fate saw it.

He knew that the light from the new orb in his chest was not bright enough to cause such a glint, and he also knew he was wearing no metal on his regal robes to reflect the light. This could only mean one thing, his knight’s instincts told him, someone was behind him.

He whirled around in place, and purely as a reflex his hand darted down to where his scabbard should have been but was not. Of course, his sword was evidently a part of him now. If there was a way to manifest it, he had no idea how. Instead, he took on a back-up hand-to-hand stance and prepared himself to dodge in case of an attack, he didn’t have his armor to rely on anymore either.

It was good that he had enough wits about him to remain light on his feet, because the assailant’s own reflexes kicked in after witnessing his sudden turn and directed her to throw the kunai immediately.

He managed to duck under them, but only just barely. A lock of his hair was sliced clean away by one of them, and he actually felt another sail past his ear. All three clanged uselessly behind, him, but he was distraught to find that his attacker’s hand was enveloped in an eerie blue flame. He did not yet know what the flame meant, only that it couldn’t have been good. The worst part was, she was agile, and dodging that last attack had cost him some of his footing. He would not be able to dodge the next attack, which meant he had to deflect it somehow instead. Depending on what it was, though, that may have proved impossible, especially if it was another trio of darts.

It wasn’t, but instead something almost as bad, shuriken. The star-shaped blades appeared between each finger just as the darts had. The only upside to these that Fate could determine was that they wouldn’t penetrate as deeply as the darts would, they could slice him up pretty fiercely, but he’d had much worse than what they could do. He also knew what the blue flames meant now, evidently it meant she was summoning something else. So, when he saw blue flames engulfing her shurikenless hand, he knew what this woman’s next move was. The shuriken were only meant to create an opening. He didn’t know what she was summoning in her off-hand, but it was likely she believed it to be what would deliver the final, potentially fatal, blow. That kind of confidence was not favorable to him.

Before the assassin had time to toss her handful of shuriken, he lunged forward without warning, arms wide. The shocked look that suddenly crossed the woman’s face told him that she had not expected this move. Frankly, he didn’t either, it was the only thing he could think of, the only thing his instincts screamed at him to do.

When he crashed into her and they fell to the ground, he felt immediate softness. His face had landed square into the cleavage of the unsuspecting assailant, and then they both fell to the ground with a loud thud.

“Wha—get off me!” the woman shouted.

Instead of heeding her command, Fate quickly lifted himself up only enough to get a handle of both her wrists and pin her to the floor. His suspicion about her off-hand turned out to be correct, as it happened, for there was a short sword there with a curved tip, it was clearly of eastern design, as was much of her garb now that he got a good look at her. She likely planned to thrust the blade into him when he was off-balance from the shuriken.

Then he heard the clamoring of metal and bone from around him. He was too focused on observing this woman’s every move to see what it was, but he guessed it was the skeletal guards coming to see what the commotion was about.

“Honored… guest…” if the sounds were not enough to confirm the identities of the newcomers, the rattling windy sound of their voices were. Several additional voices echoed this statement as they arrived. “Do not… harm…”

“Honored? He is a king-slayer!” The woman shouted and glared at him from below. She tried to wiggle free, but Fate wouldn’t give her even an inch of leeway. He was surprised at his own strength, she was by no means a weakling, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to remain so steadfast before slaying the Dark King.

“King is title…” one of the skeleton guards replied, “granted to… king’s slayer… rightful title…”

“Yet he does not accept it!” she yelled, taking her eyes off Fate briefly to look at the speaking guard.

“Princess Silquintis’… orders…” a different guard said, and the others all echoed the statement in agreement. “Honored… guest… until choice… is made…”

“And I’ve made my choice,” Fate added, “I was just on my way to tell her, in fact. Now who are you?”

“Your end!” she spat and tried to wrestle herself free. This time she nearly did.

“Atsuki… Aohi…” one of the guards answered instead, “one of… Dark King’s royal guards…”

Fate blinked. He was just assailed by the king’s royal guard? It was a bit late for that, wasn’t it?

“I was not there to defend my master,” she said, “so I am instead duty-bound to avenge him! This goes beyond the asinine and barbaric rules of this northern wasteland. This is a matter of honor! So, let me free and accept your **** with dignity!”

As a knight, Fate was no stranger to ideas of honor, duty, and chivalry. Because of this, he could understand this strange fox-girl's point of view. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, the guilt she was feeling must have been insurmountable. If someone he was charged to protect had died on his watch, Fate would have felt much the same, he might have even felt compelled to avenge the fallen like she did. And furthermore, something about this girl seemed very familiar to him, and he was having a difficult time putting his finger on what it was. Had he remembered sooner, the whole ordeal would have been resolved much more quickly.

“An honored guest is an honored guest, whether he is a murderer or not,” a voice that did not belong to a skeletal guard, yet still had some chilling quality to it, announced some ways ahead of them.

Fate looked up just in time to see a bolt of what looked like frozen air surrounded by a flurry of frost soar from the voice’s origin to strike the assassin beneath him. She immediately went limp, and he panicked as he looked back down, not even registering the newcomer’s appearance yet.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, too late, but calmed down considerably when he saw the gentle rising and falling of her chest as she breathed and her eyes wildly looking around, quite aware.

“Worry not, knight of Syldon,” the newcomer said, “I did not kill her, I merely paralyzed her. You can let the guards handle it from here.”

Hesitantly, Fate lifted himself off the fox-eared assassin, evidently named Atsuki, and looked at this newcomer with interest. He felt briefly like he had gone from one odd individual to another, however, as this new person was no less strange.

At first Fate mistook her for one of the guards, for her skin was deathly pale, the skin of a fresh corpse, and her eyes had the same eerie blue glow that the skeletal guards had. But she was markedly different, her eyes shone with an even greater intellect and awareness of her surroundings. Her hair was long and perhaps was a pale blonde in life, now turned to a stark snowy white.

Her armor looked impressively crafted, but was more heavily concentrated around her arms and legs with battered yet ornate plates that, if Fate was not mistaken, were of Syldon craftsmanship. There was also a sword strapped to her back the hilt of which also bore a style similar to his homeland. Her torso did not bear much armor at all, and in fact was nearly bare save for a small pair of plates strapped across her chest, hiding only her nipples from view, the rest of her medium-sized breasts were completely visible, as was every other part from her belly to her head. In lieu of armor, her midsection and face bore a number of jagged and intense scars. In spite of them, Fate thought she had a haunting beauty to her. Not just a rugged attractiveness that many warrior women had, but also a graceful sort of beauty that was normally reserved for the noble class. She carried herself like a knight of his former kingdom.

Fate placed a fist against his chest and bowed, a gesture of respect from his kingdom. If she truly was a Syldonite, she would recognize it at once, and return it if she was a knight. “My name is Sir Fate Darkbane, Knight of Syldon,” he greeted as the skeletal guards lifted the limp assailant and carried her away.

“You still believe you own that title? Do you think that Syldon would still accept you with open arms as you are now?”

Fate’s heart panged a little; she had a point, “**** of habit.”

She returned the respectful gesture in any case, her breasts bouncing lightly from the impact of her hand. However, unlike Fate, her hand was open and her fingers straight. He knew this to mean that she was a knight no longer, a knight-errant. He supposed he probably was too.

“I am Hilda, I was once a knight of Syldon, but now I am captain of the guard for the Dark King. And to put to rest the curiosity I see within your eyes; I am indeed of the walking dead. I am a wight. My body is suspended in the form it took on the day I died; it does not rot. The people here have come to call me the ‘Grave Knight’, a title I personally despise.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Hilda.” Fate replied.

“That this is how we met, and not earlier as you were cutting your way to the throne room, you should count yourself quite fortunate, indeed. I am a knight no longer; I would have given you no quarter.” Her tone was stern, and her gaze slightly terrifying, given its unnatural glow.

Fate nodded. He truthfully would not have expected any, a fact that he felt slightly guilty for now. He never used to expect creatures on this part of the continent to know things like honor and chivalry. This experience, if nothing else, had proven just how sorely mistaken he truly was.

“I believe you were heading to the throne room,” Hilda said. “You should be on your way. We will take care of your assailant in the meantime.”

“May I make a request?” Fate asked.

“You may, whether or not I act on it remains to be seen. You do not command me.”

“I understand, please do not harm her. I’d like to speak to her later.”

“Your words would be wasted on her. The technique, skill, and tactical prowess of the shinobi are matched only by their stubbornness and relentless adherence to their strict codes. She would likely prefer to die long before she became an ally.”

“All the same,” Fate replied, “I would like to know those who try to kill me.”

The wight narrowed her eyes and folded her armored arms against her chest, “You did not wish this to be the case as you slaughtered dark elves and northern warriors on your path to the Dark King’s throne.”

Another guilty pang struck Fate’s heart. Of course, she was right; this woman knew exactly how to get under his skin and strike him where it hurt. Still, he was resolute and hoped she would sense it.

“A lot has changed in such a short time,” Fate’s reply sounded distant even to his own ears.

Hilda seemed to consider this, her eyes still narrowed and observing him carefully. After a moment she spoke again, “I will honor your request. No harm shall come to Atsuki Aohi until the next ruler, whoever that may be, orders me otherwise. If it happens to be you, come to the dungeon, I will be there personally seeing to her safety.”

“Thank you.” I said, giving her another respectful bow. She did not return this one and simply turned around and began walking away in the direction of the other skeletal guards.

Fate considered these two new individuals he met in such a short period. Both of them were duty-bound to protect the former Dark King, and neither of them seemed to like Fate all that much. He understood why, of course, but he was done making enemies. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted in general, but it wasn’t battle. He had grown tired of the sport of combat, and the blood of his enemies would be duller in his eyes.

He began walking toward the throne room again, this time much more cautiously and aware of his surroundings.