FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1.

The sun winked shut on the world. Dragging its lids, not lazy, but tired, so tired and so wanting to rest for good--but it would not, no, it would crack its pupil open stare down on the little people below in just hours.

Just hours to the sun, but a slice of life, a hefty treasure, to those who swung their swords and strung their bows in the face of steel and fire.

To be robbed of time, Dainil thought, would be the greatest crime (and himself, then, the greatest victim, or thief) one could commit. Each hour by, a sand crumbled from one's hourglass, and each day a pinch. By the passing of a year, a clump trembled from it to spill down, spiraling, into the waste and the forgotten.

Such a thing to loose.

To him, the sun overhead of the log that he rested on and the meal in his hands that heated him, reminded him of how Dandywine Springs had spent its day: covered in slaughter, in the red (dribbling, dribbling on the grass, it is a wine different than the place's namesake, yet familiar)and the white (an arm poking out here, the ring of a skull there, shimmering riches no king would covet), dying. It too would wake, lifting its head, only to drift down again, once more killed.

Hopefully, Dandywine's eyes would peer at the world for a dozen years until it must shrink its lids and draw them shut again.

Sure, there was always that: hope.

"Dainil." Steps, boots stomping on the ground's face.

Dainil glanced up from his plate, swallowing the chunk of bread and potato he had his mouth. Seeing his the flint eyes of Wallace Raemar. Lord of Dandywine Springs and the Pangaea Coast. His father. "Something wrong, father?"

His father scanned the clearing around him, taking in the beating silence of the night, the still trees clinging close around them, and the old patch of springheart flowers clustered in front of an oak. Everything to itself, in this night. "So, this is where you went to." Not answering his question. Something ticking across his mind. Dainil saw it in his father's eyes. "Not a bad place. I came here before, years back, on another campaign." He frowned. "Twenty-one years ago, in fact. Before you, though your mother was already with me." His father slowly kneeled and sat beside him on the log. Never before had he looked so old. So near to his shutting his eyes for good, as Dandywine could never do. "You know, don't you?"

Dainil leaned closer to his father, smelling the sweat of the battle mingled with his musk. "I'm not sure. I know something's on your mind, and I understand from that that it must be worrying enough." Dainil looked around, suddenly, getting an idea. "It's not the Langaea, is it? They didn't escape, or turn on us?"

His father sighed, and he heard the wheeze of his breath. How much the day had cost him. "No, it is not the Langaea. It is our king."

Dainil half-grinned, nudging his father. Trying for a response. A good one. Closeness. "He go and start another war, did he? A little mistake like that?"

His father stared at him. "Don't say that. Don't jest like that, not about Mikel Hawthorne. He is the king of Pangaea, and he knows what he's doing, even if he pretends to act as if he is a fool. Helps him hold on to this land. A fine enough act."

Dainil's grin faded and his head lowered. Shouldn't have tried it. Not after what they'd suffered through today. "What, then?" He put a hand on his father's shoulder.

"A messenger of our king arrived about an hour ago. Just after the cooks served what supper we could manage." He gestured to the slop encased in the bread Dainil gripped. "He didn't stay long. Just the minute it took to pass us a scroll, and ride off, kicking his horse like demons hunted him. I've been...I have been in my tent since then. When I saw the scroll."

Dainil stood still, silent as the world about them.

"Son, the emperor is dead. The ruler of our entire continent...our guide...is gone."

The night moved around them. The springhearts bent their necks in the wind. They both stirred, but alone. Everything in this night, alone.

"So, that heart of his finally gave out. At least he lived a decent life, father. We can remember so, and look towards our future."

His father shook his head. Gaze hard now, he looked straight into his son. Tears in his eyes. "They murdered him! He didn't blink out like a lamp, he blazed! He died stuck through on his own fountain, in his keep, in the heart of his empire."

The world moved, alone, still, and dead as the emperor around Dainil. Yet, a storm thundered. He felt it, gnawing at his bones. Trouble. "Dae ist. Gods. Who?" He leaned back, body slack. "Which fucking cold-blood? His family? Our friends across the Ruby Bay? People from the Joriel Republic? Dissenters? Gods." His mind spun across a thousand faces. A hundred thousand. All killers. Grinning. Which one spilled the blood? Which one sketched the details? And whose blood must he now spill.

"The scroll didn't give enough details. It simply said that word came from Skystone announcing his death, and a call to the leaders of the empire's lands for a court. Not judgment of the murders, either. A commune that people from every corner of our world will meet at to decide on who the next emperor will be."

"The queen will not take up his scepter?"

"No, no. The scroll said she would abdicate. Too mad with grief to concentrate on ruling. She herself might not make it through the year. She's alone now."

Dainil nodded. Thinking.

The night moved on, alone.

"Will we go, father?" He looked to Wallace. Da'.

"Yes, we will." Wallace looked his son straight in the eye. "You will."

Dainil held his glance for a few seconds. He knew. Had, all along. "Yes, father. I will leave tomorrow morning, first dawn."

His father patted him on the back. "Thank you. You know I can't make too many more trips, and not one like this. You must ride hard and fast to make it in time to the court meeting. The news was delayed getting to us, due to the battles. But I believe you'll make it. And I believe you'll do what I would, were I younger."

"If no one will find his killers, I'll do my best. 'Justice will be done.' That's our house words, and that's what I believe." Dainil hugged his father, rubbing his back.

"You truly are my son." His father hugged him back. "But, Dainil, you must leave tonight. Within hours. You must, or I doubt you will make it. And I know the atmosphere of that place. They'll try to keep people such as us out. Think we're fools, country people. Too hard for their city."

"I will go." He hugged his father once more, hard. "Just be sure to take care of yourself, father." He stood, looking off into the night. Into where it would take him. "I'll return as soon as I can."

He started off into the trees, his father following at his back, slow. Making for camp.

Soon, he would move alone. Like the night.

Hours burnt away.

Dainil found himself riding.

Sunlight catching his cloak, streaming out behind him, Dainil rode hard. Pushing his horse hard, clutching to its neck, his sole provisions tied to his back and to the horse. "Come on, Whitetail. We've got to do this for father. And for Uncle Elheim." His death would be met with other deaths.

2.

The bells tolled.

Screaming, they grabbed Queen Lorena from her sleep.

Her eyes snapped open, casting over the amber glow on the stones of her and the king's chambers. No, she thought, her chambers. Her and her lover's.

"Awake so soon, pet?" His voice floated into her head, as if he had heard her. She hadn't even felt him wake and breathe. But she did feel his warmth as he lowered his head to gaze into her, his eyes like gems stolen long ago, and the curve of his hand as it scraped the black glove of her inner thigh, give it a squeeze, and vanish. She let out a light gasp.

Even after all he had done to her throughout the night, all the games they played out and fun they had, his very touch felt sharp, electric. It made her move, made her want to press against him more and beg. Her, once and always the queen, beg and writhe under the touch of this lesser title.

For he had another sort of power. A personal one: he had made her feel good. Fantastic. The feel of his powerful body rippling against hers, his cock slipping inside her, and the wave that swept her mind away and dashed it on the rocks.

"I can feel you, pet, shivering in my hands, about to snap in half. Calm yourself." He straddled her, placing a kiss on her muzzle side as he climbed over her. She needly slipped her tongue in his mouth, tasting that sweet flavor he carried, her hands moving to stroke the wet lips between her legs, satisfied from the night they spent tussling...yet wanting, needing, requiring more and more.

As he gently eased his flaccid eight inches--working it so that it hardened in the snap of a finger, veins and flesh throbbing, alive--she realized that she might never grow bored of his touch, never find his sex too known to her flesh. With the others, the powerful knights their court employed with the occasional duke or earl, she often felt sick--disgusted--by them after a few performances. Even Baron Williem, a flame orange fox with a member that came close to that of a horse's, grew mundane after the first six times.

But this...the feel of him next to her, on her, in her; the way his body moved, the work of his form itself, not to mention the sheer length and girth of his sex massaging her lips and the flesh hidden behind them. Spreading her clean open with its weight, tunneling into her limits, movement fluid and sharp, all thrusts and turns to keep her rocking back and forth, eyes wide, gasps streaming from her lips like water from a stream. She never stopped twisting and screaming when he rode her. Hands gripping those wonderful rounded hips of hers. Pressing in tight.

Even now, twinning with him for the dozenth time that week, she found herself experiencing something that overwhelmed her thoughts.

He grinned down at her, rocking his length into her. She felt it harden and straighten inside her, swelling up. She winked at him, teasing him by clenching and unclenching her inner muscles around his cock. He soon filled every bit of her, spreading her lips as far as they would go. "Oh, gods. How do you make me feel so good?" She couldn't even guess how big he was, except that saying he was twelve inches did him a disservice.

He came in close to her, pressing his cock in as he licked her muzzle. "I know exactly what you want to feel, pet." He eased back, an inch at a time, letting his cock ease out. Inch by inch.

Driving her over, mind flashing white. Gods, she loved how he did it.

When the next bell tolled, they laid next to each other. His heavy arms wrapped around her waist, he laid slow kisses on her breasts, letting his tongue drag around her nipples. She could only gasp, giving in to his touch, driven wild.

He stopped, looking up at her with a grin on his muzzle. "Sorry, pet, I have things to attend to." He stood, leaving her with one last kiss. "You'll be okay for the day, I'm sure. But I'll be back come midnight."

She knew not to beg, though she wanted to. Instead, she watched him dress, and mouth words. leaving as a fox. She sighed, pressing her legs together. Gods, the days had grown so long and the nights so short in the past weeks. In the time since she helped her lover kill the emperor.