Archive | June 22, 2016

Lady Taisiya’s 4th Husband, a beginning – a fantasy/romance fdomme story

This is my answer – or the beginnings of one – to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope.

Sefton was beyond nervous as his parents led him down the path to his bride, but he kept his chin up and smiled as if this was the best idea in the world.

Taisiya of Stonewall had three husbands already and six children, the oldest of which had been in classes with Sefton. At least he wouldn’t have to look Isham in the eye; he’d been part of the three-way trade that had ended up with Sefton bare-footed in the grass and Taisiya waiting at the pillar.

His parents’ hands were firm on his elbows, and behind him his mother’s second and fourth husbands marched quietly. He could no more run away than if they had already put chains on him.

But he would not. That would have been shameful and ridiculous, and, above all, it would have been futile. So he knelt at the appointed spot, his best outfit dampening with the dew still fresh on the grass. “Lady Taisiya. I come to you.”

Those were his only words. The rest came between the lady and his mother, with his father and his mother’s other husbands saying only the few words they were needed for.

Everyone understood that this was a contract. First marriages might be for love. Late-marriages, too, past the age of children or war. Sefton had never even met Taisiya before; there was nothing of love about this arrangement. This was for deals between houses and connections, for his mother’s fifth husband, for a trade arrangement that would strengthen the three houses involved and their constituencies against the [] to the north and the [2] to the west.

Sefton pressed his forehead to the ground and considered meditations on obedience.

“Rise as Feltian of Stonwall.” The words had been said between the interested parties. Lady Taisiya reached down — there was symbolism there, in that she would always be reaching down for him, and guided Sefton to his feet. She was, he was surprised to find, smiling. “Welcome to my House.”

Sefton stole a final glance at his mother and father, at his second-father and fourth-father. Only Safion, for whom he’d been named, met his eyes. His second-father winked at him before lowering his own head, a playful smirk still dancing on his lips.

It was far too late to back out, even if backing out had ever been an option. Sefton let his new wife lead him from the hilltop down into the waiting carriage.

There was a kneeler inside the carriage, and a man he thought was probably Lady Taisiya’s second husband sitting in the driver’s seat. The Lady took her seat, and Sefton knelt by her side before he had to be told to.

She said nothing to the driver, not he to her, but simply clucked to the horses. The carriage moved away from the boundary between Stonewall and Sefton’s home. He stared at the wooden floorboards, at the soft velvet edge of the kneeler, at his knees, barely hidden behind white linen.

“Stonewall is not so far from your childhood home.” Her voice was soft. Sefton peeked up at her guiltily; had he spoken aloud?

She smiled at him, as gently as she’d spoken. “It was only a week ago I took my oldest to another hill. He was nervous then. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t be just as nervous.”

“I do my duty, mistress,” Sefton murmured.

“I am Taisiya,” she corrected — her voice was no less gentle, but it was still very clearly a correction. “I am your lady wife in public — but my husbands call me Taisiya. Do you understand, Feltian?”

Sefton swallowed. She hadn’t had to change his name. Not everyone did. His mother didn’t, as far as he knew. Now he would have to learn a new name, in addition to everything else new. And her name as well. “Yes, mis… yes, Taisiya. I understand.”

“It’s all right to be nervous. I was nervous, the first time I wed. And the second,” she added wryly.

Sefton peeked at her. “Nervous?” He had never heard of women being nervous at their weddings!

“Oh, terrified. My first husband, he was much older than I was, and he had lost his entire family. I was barely older than you are now, and I was meant to be Honored Wife over a man who could have been my grandfather.” She wrinkled her nose, and then let the expression slide into a wistful smile. “We became friends, eventually. It was he who found my second husband.”

“Onter?” He had met Lady Taisiya’s husbands — in the marketplace, or running errands, and in the fields at harvest-time when everyone worked.

“No.” Now she looked sad. “Diafel. He died when the raiders attacked, twelve years past. He was a good man, and a kind man, once we got used to each other.”

Her expressions shifted again, like a fickle wind, and now she smiled, if not too broadly. “You and I will get used to each other, too, you know. It’s not a death sentence, to be married.”

It’s not being married I’m worried about. Sefton nodded slowly. “I know… Taisiya. I am not frightened.”

“You are, and I’d rather you not lie to me.” Her hand settled gently on the back of his neck. “You are being sent away from home, to be fourth husband to a woman who has a son your age. It can’t be easy… every boy I’ve ever known dreams of being a love-match, a first husband to a woman his age, growing old together. Most boys dream of being an only husband, a strong protector like they do it in the mountains. It’s okay to have those dreams.”

“They don’t matter, though.” She’d hit too close to the mark, and he found himself sounding bitter.

“Nonsense. They matter because they are part of what makes you a person. They are part of what drives you.”

Sefton swallowed. “You… you care what makes me a person?” It seemed a foolish thing to say to his new wife, but he seemed to have forgotten all his manners.

“I do care. You are to be my husband, after all, father of my children.” She squeezed gently, her calloused fingers pressing into his neck. “We’re nearly there, Feltian. Are you ready?”

He couldn’t duck his head; he could barely move at all. “I’m…” no, I’m not wasn’t an answer. He searched for another one. “I will do my duty, Taisiya.”

“I know. They told me you were dutiful.” He couldn’t look away, so he saw her amused smirk. “It is good to be dutiful. In the end, I believe you will find I am much more interested in the things they were trying so hard not to tell me.”

There was nothing to say to that, so Sefton waited, his eyes downcast and his neck pressed into his new wife’s hand. He would be a good husband… no matter what his parents had hidden from his new wife.

Chapter 2: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1139741.html

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The Hellmouth Job, Part I-A (A Leverage/Buffy Fanfic)

Part I
Part II

Previously
“I don’t normally…” The client looked around nervously. She was wearing an oversized baseball cap, wide sunglasses, and a trench coat. She couldn’t have been saying “look at me, I’m sneaky,” any more if she had been wearing a sign. “…I don’t really…”

“Let’s go in the back room, why don’t we?” Nate nodded at Elliot, waiting casually at the bar, and at Sophie, chatting up an out-of-town businessman two booths away. “I think you’ll be more comfortable back there. Oh, bring your drink. Joe won’t mind.”

“If you’re sure it’s no problem…” Her voice quavered and shook. Her gloved hands were tight around the mug. But she stood without an trouble and politely refused Nate’s offer to help her up.

In the back room, she seemed to relax a bit, leaning back in her chair and sipping cautiously at the beer. “I don’t like public places… and I don’t want to be seen… here.” She gulped her beer this time. “It’s just… well. I don’t normally leave Sunnydale.”

“Sunnydale?” Nate asked, letting the earpiece pick it up. “I’m not familiar with…”

Oh hell no,” Hardison’s angry whisper cut across the earpiece. Nate ignored it.

“It’s a small city in Southern California.” The client flapped a gloved hand dismissively. “So you can see this was quite a drive for me.”

“A drive?” Nate lifted an eyebrow, while in his earpiece Hardison continued to swear.

“I do not… I don’t like planes. They make me uncomfortable.” The client clearly was uncomfortable everywhere, but there was only so much Nate could do about that. “The problem is… my son is missing.”

“We don’t normally do missing…”

The client slid a folder across the table, along with a small voice-recorder. “My interview with the police. And, as of five days ago, all of the children who have gone missing. Also, a description of the group and their flier.”

“I’m sorry?” Nate frowned at the folder without touching it. “‘The group?’”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The client’s sudden confidence vanished as fast as it had shown up. “My son was part of a youth group. A lot of the kids were. We thought it was a good idea at first, you know. Keep them out of trouble.” She ducked her head and flapped her hands. “There’s more trouble to get in than you’d believe, in Sunnydale. But then… Well. They started not coming home. First for a day or two. And then he vanished altogether.”

Nate flipped through the photos, one by one. “And the police…”

The client pointed at the recorder. “They’re not interested. It’s not the sort of thing they do.”

“I see.” Nate’s jaw set. “Let me consult with my team… but I think it’s safe to say, Mrs.…

“Doe.”

“Mm. Mrs. Doe, I can’t promise that we’ll find your son. But we’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.”

Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1135971.html

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Priorities, a story of Faerie Apocalypse, live on Patreon

a story of the Faerie Apocalypse: written for the April Patreon Theme (April Showers)

“Pass me a crowbar!” Aileen had crawled over the detritus of most of a trailer park and now was shouting from inside of the one mostly-intact trailer. ”And, uh, do we have a pipe wrench?”

“I’ve got a pipe torch,” Bracken called back. “And a hacksaw. Aileen, what the eff are you doing?” She had found a motherlode of canned goods…

(read on…)


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Dragons Next Door: Released, a story continuation for “Finish It” Bingo.

After Hostage Situation, Ketchup, and Salt, for the Finish It! Bingo

There were too many things to do, and Sage and I were still frozen for a moment in indecision. Our child had passed out. Our child had just performed focus-less magic at a distance, using a TV as his scrying bowl. He had taken a hostage-taker hostage. He had sent an unregistered magic signature into the heart of a tense police stand-off.

He had saved the day.

Sage and I shared a look. He picked up the phone and dialed, as quickly as the old rotary phone would let him. I got Jin comfortable on the couch, pillow behind his head, half-sitting up.
While Sage got the chief of police to acknowledge him, I brewed tea. I dug into the canisters I kept locked away, the ones I did not want my children getting in, whether by accident or by purpose. Jin would need something a little stronger than the norm after that feat, and Sage and I… we would need something strong to deal with the aftermath.

When I went back into the den, Sage was drawing circles on the floor and scattering bones. I pulled up the throw rug to give him more room, sparing my oldest child another glance. Jin was still out. I imagined he would be out for some time.

“I’m trying to figure out how he did it,” Sage admitted. “He has power, that we already knew.”

“Of course.” We tried not to say too much about that anywhere the children could hear — and in this case, the children included Jin. “The question is, where has he been getting it trained? I know the Tower wanted him, but…”

Sage shook his head. “I’d have known if they’d have touched him. No, this isn’t their style.” He looked at the circles and the bones thoughtfully.

I sipped my tea and did the same. The patterns spoke of intent — that, we’d already known. The ritual was different from anything I’d ever seen before, and from Sage’s expression, neither had my husband seen such things. The results… the phone rang again, and Sage hurried off to answer it.

We were going to have to have quite a few conversations in the next week.

~

Four days later, we had spoken to the Chief of Police twice, the Fire Marshall once, and the head of the bank three times. Jin had been present for half of these meetings, remaining quiet, saying little more than “my parents speak for me.”

That was just about as much as he’d said to us. I’d gotten an “it’s nothing,” three “it’s no big deals,” and one loud “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Sage had, from all his reports, gotten about the same.

There were, of course, no charges being pressed against Jin — he had done nothing against the law except a little bit of directed magic that could, with the wrong lawyer and the wrong judge, possibly be considered against a couple statutes. But the police chief and several others were very interested in his quick action, and a whole line of people after them wanted to talk to the hero of the day.

Jin wanted to hide in his room with the curtains closed.

In desperation, I turned to that which had never failed me before — cookies. I baked up a huge batch of Jin’s favorite snickerdoodles and brewed him a cup of his favorite milked tea, an affectation hw must have picked up from his father.

The cookies and tea got me in the door to his room, but, gauging from the expression on his face, the rest was up to me.

I considered and discarded several lines, which either sounded too uselessly motherly or too ridiculously chummy. Finally, I decided on the truth. “We’re still trying to figure out how you did it.”

He looked up, took a cookie, and ate it, as if considering that. I waited, wishing I’d brought tea for myself. Something calming.

“‘We,’ the city, ‘we’, the police, or ‘we…’”

“We, your father and I,” I confirmed. “Whatever the results, they’re a family matter.”

He stared at a second cookie. I stared at the cookie, too. Perhaps it held answers.

“I don’t want to go to the Tower, and I can’t go to the Pumpkin.” He lifted his chin and stared at me as defiantly as Junie ever did. “If I can do magic, proper spells, I’ll have to go somewhere, right? And Dad went to the Tower…”

Things began to fall into place. “You don’t have to go to the Tower if you don’t want.” I hesitated. He’d mentioned the Pumpkin, which was, of course, a girls’ school… but it also dealt in a different style of magic than the Tower. “You’ve been getting instruction.”

It wasn’t a question, of course. I tried hard to not make it an accusation, either.

“Yeah. I, uh.” He looked out the window, although his curtains were closed tightly. I wondered if he was hiding from Jimmy and the other Smiths. “Once it started coming in, a guy from the Tower stopped by. I… Iwas a bit rude.”

Someone from the Tower had spoken to my son without asking me? I swallowed my immediate rage. “Which realm of rude are we talking about?” In our family — in our neighborhood — rudeness could come in many forms.

“Words.” Jin wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t good enough to target a curse at that point, and I know better than to wield anything I can’t aim.”

“Good! Well, if they were trying to talk to you without discussing the matter with your parents, they deserved every rude word you gave them. So…?” I fished shamelessly. “You went looking for tutelage?”

“Well, I knew I didn’t want to deal with those Tower people, at least not for a while. And I knew I needed help. So, uh.” He still wasn’t looking at me. I tried not to to take it personally. “Mr. Brown, he’s been haunting this neighborhood for a long time. And I went to talk to him.”

Learning lessons from an angry lost soul could be effective… and it could be amazingly dangerous. I thought about my answers for a moment.

Too long. “I knew you’d be mad.”

“Jin, you saved an entire bank of hostages. I am not angry with you.”

“The police are.” He finally looked at me. “They want to find some reason to blame me.”

“They want to find some reason to blame magic.” I leaned against the foot of his bed and studied him. “Remember how we felt, when we realized that the bad guy this time was human? Normal, everyday human… the police realized he wasn’t even a spell-user, he just had a magical item. That’s how they feel. They want magic to be at fault. They want something strange to be at fault.”

“..People suck sometimes,” Jin muttered.

I didn’t call him on his language. It wasn’t the time for that. “Sometimes people really suck,” I agreed, and endured his shocked look.

“So…” He shook his head, as if to clear the sound of his mother using a bad word. “You’re not mad at me?”

“No, I’m not. I would like to meet Mr. Brown, if he’s willing, but I’m not angry that you took the responsible step of finding a teacher.”

“And I don’t have to go to the Tower?”

“No.” I felt my jaw set. “I’ll speak to Sage, and we’ll talk to the Tower people about this breach of etiquette. I do want you to go to a proper school… but it doesn’t have to be the Tower.”

He relaxed and, for the first time in weeks, I saw my oldest child smile. “I might enjoy the Pumpkin.”

“I’m quite sure you would.” I let myself smile in return. “But maybe we’ll see if there are some other options, too.”

He allowed me to hug him, and I let myself release a little tension. “Thanks, Mom,” he muttered into my shoulder.

“Thank you, Jin,” I replied. Today, there were many things to thank him for.

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The Tiny Queen Arises, a continuation of a fanfic of Narnia and Valdemar

first: A Door in the Wall
Second: On the Other Side of the Door
Third: The Call Comes Again
Fourth: New Travelling Companions
Fifth: Complications and then Complications
Sixth: Stranger Things
Seventh: A Change and Changes
Eighth: But Not A Return
Ninth: The Gods Not Tamed

The town they’d slept in this time was big enough to sport a proper inn, as well as a tailor and a dressmaker who’d been more than willing to put together another outfit each for the Pevensies. Soleck had paid for everything before handing over to Peter a full purse and giving him a quick explanation of the currency.

“I feel as if we’re travelling in state now,” Lucy murmured to Susan. “We have proper changes of clothing, we have coins for largesse…”

“Careful now, Lu.” She knew her sister didn’t truly need warning, but Susan couldn’t help but give the caution anyway. “We’re not royal, here.”

“We’re royal,” Lucy responded, her chin up and her jaw set. “‘Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.’” Her stubborn expression faded into one of longing. “We’re just a long way from home. Visiting incognito royalty.”

“On a secret mission,” Susan whispered. “Don’t forget that part. It’s quite important.”

Lucy giggled. “It’s very important,” she agreed. “Especially the secret part. Do you remember Tinderfoot, who could not understand ‘secret,’ no matter how many times we explained the concept? Or…”

“Herald Soleck.” SUsan talked over her sister with as much grace as such a thing could be managed. “Back from your shopping trip?” He’d taken off Edmund, in theory to buy him a more subtle weapon than Aslan’s gift.

“Yes, and may I say, your brothers knowledge of weapons is quite impressive. I did not expect… well, I did not expect that.” He cleared his throat. “Please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Oh,” Susan said brightly, with the cheerful spark that had led many in two worlds to label her frivolous or shallow, “we were just talking about home, old friends and the like. Nothing particularly exciting, I’m afraid.”

There was a look on Soleck’s face, but Susan did not think it was disbelief. More, she thought, something like disappointment.

Well, better he believe her somewhat shallow than he spend too much time worrying about her depth or her brother’s knowledge of weapons. He cleared his throat. “There is one who will guide you for a short time after you leave here. She would like to meet you now, if you would? If your reminiscences are not too dear?”

And that, Susan thought, sounded downright catty. She smiled brightly at him, cheerful and friendly. “Of course! A good guide is very important when one is as far from home as we are.”

She thought she might sound a little bit vapid, but Soleck did not seem to mind, or perhaps he simply had other things on his mind. A missing Prince, she mused, had to be putting quite a stress on those normally responsible for matters such as keeping that Prince safe and sound. She softened her smile a little bit, although he did not appear to notice

“Indeed. And I am afraid the territory we will be sending you into is not, perhaps, the safest of places. It is lucky that your brothers seem very familiar with weapons and tactics for those so young. And you?”

His eyebrows were up and he looked less than pleased. “I’m a fair hand with a bow,” Susan answered. “Lu can shoot pretty well, too, and you don’t want to get within reach of her short-sword.” She took a breath and met Soleck’s gaze. “The place we come from has been at war for many years,” she told him with complete honesty, letting the war show in her eyes. It might not have been where they learned to shoot a bow and arrow… but that was a complicated explanation. “We’re no stranger to battle, Herald Soleck, nor are we as green as you might think or wish.”

Lucy stomped her foot. “Your sun-lord and our… our god sent us. Why are you so worried?”

“Because, young miss,” Soleck answered, with quiet solemnity, “you, at least, look as if you should still be in the nursery, or running about Haven as a page. We do not train Heralds, even, as young as you are now. This mission will not be an easy one, and you are children.”

Susan set a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, but there was no stopping her. She had her chin out and a wild look in her eye.

“Do you doubt your Sun-Lord?” she demanded.

Susan wanted to protest, to scold, Lu, stop it, but she wasn’t going to interrupt. Her sister had the floor and she would honor that.

“He is not my Sun-Lord. But no, I doubt neither him nor his avatars the fire-cats.”

“I do not doubt the Lord we follow, either. And if he has said go into this place and find this man, that is what we will do.”

She sounded, high childish voice and all, much like Queen Lucy the Valiant. Susan smiled in lieu of an impolite cheer.

Soleck cleared his throat. He clearly was uncertain what to do with a child speaking like a queen. Susan wanted to tell him she sounded like that the first time she was a child, too, you know, but that would do nothing but muddy the waters and confuse the issue.

“You said there was someone for us to meet?” she guided him gently.

“Ah, yes. Yes, indeed. She is, ah, not what I am, not a Herald. But she is bonded as a mercenary and is known to be trustworthy.”

“I am sure she will guide us truly,” Susan agreed. She found she wanted to smooth things over with Soleck, and hoped this was the direction which would lead there.

“She and the SunLord,” he answered piously. “She is this way.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1136266.html

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