Dathor was in the stables, in the barns, heaving bales of hay without his shirt on, and she found herself watching him, watching the sweat drip off his chin, gazing at his long black hair pulled into a tight braid that whipped aroundwhile he worked, and it was similar to the way it had been when they were both younger, except that now, she could touch him. Now, shedidtouch him. Now, she slept pressed into his warm, firm body every night.
Celedin was there, too, pointedly not doing any manual labor, but also rather used to them both, to the point where he did not make faces when Dathor pulled her into his lap, where she caught him smiling once when he watched Dathor kissing the crown of her head, where he punctuated everything with a sarcastic rasp but did nothing else to change things.
She was not sure when the alliance between Dathor and Celedin would end.
She was not sure she wanted it to.
But they could not simply ignore the wide world around them, even if their home seemed like a place of safety and comfort for all three of them.
News of High King Findas’s demise reached them as it reached every part of the kingdom. The king had been killed by one of his own private guards, so it had been Iahir after all, Aerhril supposed.
But no one knew what had become of the guard. Iahir was missing.
Hafindel returned with news she had seen the orc army cut their way through Renegahan, that in the wake of Findas’s demise, everything had fallen to pieces and there had been no organized resistance.
The orcs had invaded the elves’s chapels and the palaces and the hall where parliament met. They had burned everything.
When Aerhril heard it, she could not help but sob at the news. She was not pleased, even as she knew she’d had her hand in it. It was Dathor’s plan, it was what they had predicted.
She and Dathor quarreled that night. He shouted that she would always and forever be nothing more than an elf, that her longheld prejudices would never be eradicated.
She declared that he was the embodiment of suchprejudices, that he was everything that she’d ever been taught to fear that orcs were. That he was brutal and savage and that he had no care for any kind of order, that he only wished to destroy. That the army of his people was doing that exact thing.
He slammed her against a wall and sneered into her face that she liked it, that it made her wet to take his savage seed, to be split open by his brutally-sized cock, that she didn’t mind it at all as long as he was within her power, her servant, her toy.
She sobbed and screamed that he must let her go, that if he hurt her, that if he put his hands on her, he was no better than Celedin or the steward.
He took her by the shoulders and he squeezed her so tight that she shrieked.
And then they were both crying, both of them.
He let go of her and locked himself up in a room and his voice broke on the other side of the door as he gasped out that she did not love him, that she would never see him as worthy of her, that he was some fetish of hers, some exciting sexual adventure, but not truly a husband, not really an equal.
And she sank to the floor and rested her forehead against the door and her tears fell like rain, and she denied it all, even though… what? Was she to say she did not like how huge and strong he was? That she did not like the size of his orc member? That she was not attracted to the orc elements of him?
He liked her elfin features, her small body, her smooth, pale skin. He liked the way they were together, the sheer oppositeness of them, and she knew he did.
But she did not say that.
They cried on either side of the door, until he came out and wrapped her up in his arms, and they kissed and kissed. She tangled her hands up in his hair and she held onto him for dear life and she whispered to him that he was the other half of her, that she had been but half a person when he was gone from her, that she did not care what it was betweenthem, that she refused to give him up, that they belonged together.
They made love, and he urged her the way he always did, asking her to take his seed, his orc seed, and she hesitated, her throat too tight, and did not say the word “orc,” and…
But the next night it was much the same, and she said the word that time, and he groaned into her ear that she was sweet and small and soft and that he was sullying her pretty elf quim with his thick orc cock.
They would repeat it, again and again, the same argument, the same fears, and then return to the same behavior under the sheets, though it was never quite as explosive as that first time they broached the subject together.
When they raged, she often thought it was not the two of them raging, but the world at large raging at each other, the conflict between their peoples working its way through their bodies, something bigger than them having its way with them both.
At any rate, the orcs did not stay in the capital.
They were not sure if Gathren was used as a hostage to control the orc High Chieftain as she had offered herself up to do, because no one had heard news of Gathren, just as Iahir’s whereabouts were still unknown.
What was known was that the orcs sat down to a negotiation with a contingent of elves, one of which was Marthlis, and that the new government was negotiated, ruled by a council of Cirdan elves and Valaedor elves in addition to orcs as well. There was no one ruler, supposedly, just a group of representatives, like a parliament. These had been appointed, but they were supposed to be elected in the future.
Elrion was pleased.
She and Celedin had gone to visit Elrion and to collect her sister, but when they arrived, she discovered that Elrion had formed some sort of attachment to her sister and wished to marry her. The age difference between Elrion and Raclahad was even worse than the age difference had been betweenherself and this man, not to mention that Raclahad was even younger than Aerhril had been when she had agreed to the marriage. There was also the fact that Evriane, his daughter, wasolderthan her sister.
