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My heart was in my throat as I stepped into the vibrant sunlight, this was the point of no return. The verdant plains of Gendarran Fields were a relief after my cold and arduous journey. Warring doses of wonder and terror welled in my breast, I’d walked for weeks on foot from the Black Citadel to get here. Through the dry plains of Diessa and out into the icy passes of the Shiverpeaks, behind me the Snowblind Mountains stood ominous against the sky but the temperate human lands beckoned me forward as the afternoon sun warmed my fur.

Each step was the furthest I’d ever been from home, though I wasn’t sure if I could call Ashford home anymore.

There was a stone in my throat as I made my way up the hill that led to Vigil Keep, it was here I would hope to find my place. To the Iron Legion, I was gladium. Perhaps I would be forever more after all that had happened. But since the formation of The Pact, the world was different now. An exiled charr had prospects the like my kind had never known before. The Vigil could offer me a home and a purpose, I just wasn’t sure I’d make the cut.

I’d never been much of a fighter, nor an engineer. I wasn’t learned enough to consider the Priory, nor did I want to encourage my underhandedness in the Order of Whispers, should I even manage to find them. Most charr had thought my skulduggery would have me defecting to the Ash Legion but that was not the life I wanted.

Before my exile I’d been regarded as a shrewd strategist and I did still aspire to be something more, I just never seemed to get there. This time it had to be different, if it wasn’t my only other choice would be to find a ditch to call my grave.

The Vigil surged to life around me as I approached the keep. Throngs of soldiers enacted drills under the raucous guidance of a sergeant, up on the ramparts I saw groups hurry about tending to artillery stores. The keep itself was a solid thing of grey stone, sculpted into stout towers that clung to the edge of the Snowblind Mountains. To my strategist’s mind, I could appreciate how defensible a position it was.

With a curious eye I watched a dolyak caravan unload at the peak of the hill, the crates it carried were branded by trading companies from Elona. I felt a bristle in my step the closer I got. Charr, norn, sylvari, asura and humans all trained alongside each other for a common goal. This was the future of Tyria. There was order here and none of the chaos of the Black Citadel. Surely I could do better here, discipline was what I needed. Not temptation.

As I approached the path to the keep, a watchman flagged me down. “Name yourself, and your purpose.”

“Aslar.” My voice was pitted, it had been so long since I’d spoken aloud to someone. “A new life, one in service to Tyria.” In my head it had seemed so grand and noble. Spoken aloud, it sounded as hollow as I felt.

A hint of amusement crossed the watchman’s face, though he hid it well. He whistled and a young norn hurried over. “Take Aslar here to the board.” The norn gave a nod before she looked at me, then strode off towards the keep. I followed with my head low.

Gears cranked in my mind as I chewed over my story a dozen times. I wished to seem like I belonged here. A gladium made of honour and purpose who was destined to be something more, much like the founder of the Vigil. General Almorra Soulkeeper. I had read into her history on my travels and from that I’d spun a tragic tale that would make me seem well suited to join her ranks.

The keep was loud yet orderly, squads of soldiers hurried every which way as servants tended to the more menial tasks. I was led to a broad table out in the open with a board full of notices behind it. A human in black and silver plate which bore the crest of the Vigil halted us as we approached.

“Aslar, sir.” The norn bowed and then departed.

“Aslar,” the man repeated my name. “Have you been endorsed by a member of the Vigil?”

I shook my head sheepishly. He cast a discerning eye across me then gestured me towards a lieutenant who sat at the table, an ochre sylvari with fungal protrusions who stared at me with round, empty eyes. I’d never been so close to a sylvari before, I shuffled awkwardly and tried to look like I was meant to be here.

“Another charr for the Vigil, welcome, welcome.” She spoke in a sing-song voice that made me grit my teeth. “We’ll find a place for you, let’s see, let’s see.” She lifted a few pages from the table and seemed to read them in full, slowly. Occasionally she glanced back at the board behind her and peered, though I couldn’t be sure what she read. Time passed at an agonising pace as she made her way through a pile of papers. “Kitchen always needs more servants, my, the scullery could suit you!” She beamed at me, her pleasant words were like a blade to my heart. I set my jaw and shook my head. Eventually she hummed and placed a page before me.

“Warmaster Carrus is in need of a room servant!” She spoke excitedly. “Oh, oh, he’s also a charr. He had some such troubles with the Legions, he never says, never says but in the Vigil he’s made a life to call his own. He’s requested another charr to fill the role as he’s missed the company of his kind. Poor, poor Carrus.” She tutted.

“Oh.” Room servant? So much frustration and embarrassment welled up within me that I could’ve howled. “Is there anything else?”

“I will see!” She smiled widely as she went back to peering at the pile of papers. She pursed her lips as she reached the end. I’d been sitting so long my tail had gone to sleep. “Well.” She tapped the pages back into an orderly stack. “Without the endorsement of a crusader or higher rank, there isn’t much more we can do for you. Sorry, sorry. But we do need servants! It’s so hard, so hard to find just the right ones, and the kitchen is so busy. Always so busy.”

I made a sound, if there were no other options the choice was clear. “I’ll be a room servant.” At least it would be in service to a Warmaster and with any luck I could find myself an endorsement from them.

“How wonderful!” The sylvari nodded eagerly. “You must be more eager than you sound.” If there was a barb in what she had said I couldn’t detect it and yet those words spoken so genuinely only left me baffled. She jumped to her feet and ran towards a wall of drawers. She drew a loop of keys from her waist and fiddled at a lock until the drawer finally popped open. She grabbed something and turned once more. “Are you coming?” she called to me. I threw myself out of my chair and hurried after her.

My heart raced as she led me through the halls of the keep, past armouries, a busy kitchen and through a barracks. I eyed the impersonal bedding with uncertainty, could I ever really be a soldier? I drew in a breath, the scent of exhaustion hung heavy in the air here.

The sylvari took me up a few flights of stairs, here the halls were festooned with tapestries. Hefty wooden doors inlaid with simple yet artful carvings were spaced far apart at regular intervals, it took me a moment to consider that meant the rooms beyond them would be spacious. We stopped before a door carved with a depiction of The Battle for Claw Island. My escort tapped at the door, we waited an irregularly long time before she simply unlocked the door and let us in.

Warmaster Carrus’s chambers were large. I gawked at the space, enough room to house a warband. The door opened into an antechamber, the walls were lined with medals, weapons and trophies that made me balk. A wicked, black fang hung proudly over the entryway to the rest of the chambers, a gold-leafed panel labelled it as Zhaitan’s tooth.

“Burn me.” I stared at the fang, near breathless to be in the presence of such a treasure. I’d never heard of Carrus but his accomplishments loomed large over me. I licked my lips, perhaps being a room servant to an accomplished hero could be tolerable.

“Gruesome, isn’t it?” the sylvari shivered. “Take these.” She thrust a piece of paper and a key into my hands. “I will ensure he is informed you are waiting here, now goodbye!” She left so suddenly I hadn’t even drawn breath.

I stared at the page, in messy handwriting only five words were scrawled:

Requisition:

Room servant.

Charr.

Carrus

His signature was the simple, erratic scribble of a rushed soldier.

I blinked, then glanced hungrily around the room, expecting extravagance. Disappointment stung me instead. A sitting table had been set up in the centre, one chair had been used recently and leant away from the table while the other two were neatly tucked in and held a noticeable layer of dust. A large wardrobe had been set in a corner beside a chest which was covered by linen embroidered with the Vigil’s sigil. Three armour stands stood spaced along the rest of the wall, one held an ornate suit that seemed more decorative than practical. Another carried the Vigil’s standard black and silver armour that had been trimmed with the extra fittings of a Warmaster. The third was empty.

A massive bed took up more space than I thought a bed could, its covers were in complete disarray and as I drew near I could sense a tinge of Carrus’s scent in the sheets. A shiver passed through me and I raked fangs over my lip as I lingered there. My thoughts warred between salacious curiosity and a genuine desire to still myself. I growled at myself to ward off any temptations. I would do it all right this time, it would be more than just a poor first impression for my new master to find me amidst his bedding as our introduction.

A few paces from his bed was another door that seemed to have been shut for some time. I wanted to peek behind it but again made myself wait. In time I’m sure I would learn what secrets it held, if any. A carafe of red wine had been set beside this door with three weighty goblets lined up beside it. I snuffed at the wine, its heavy scent clawed at my muzzle but a clear fruitiness and pleasant body rung throughout. Expensive stuff, I found myself licking my lips.

Though the furnishings were simple, proof of wealth glimmered in the excess. The wine, the decorative armour. Even the bedding looked soft and comfortable, with exhaustion from my travels still clinging to my bones I wanted nothing more than to doze off somewhere warm, soft and safe.

The far side of the room held a few high windows that were shuttered. Through gaps I surmised that they looked down over the keep and fields below. A desk had been set under these windows. Stacks of paper, books and trinkets were fit amidst deconstructed mechanisms that I was sure Carrus tinkered over. I eyed them with weariness, certain that like me, Carrus was Iron Legion. I couldn’t tell if that boded well or not, there was danger in familiarity. The ironclad discipline that our Legion expected was a double-edge blade, one which left scars that did not heal easily.

Unsure what to do with myself, I settled into the chair by the table and waited. After my travels, I welcomed the respite for as long as it lasted. The distant call of training drills did not unnerve me, in time I hoped I’d fine it mundane and relaxing.

The door to Carrus’s quarters crashed open. I jolted upright in my chair. A hulking charr crowded through the antechamber, he was kitted toe to tooth in black and silver armour. A plumed helmet was nestled in the crook of his arm and a massive greatsword was sheathed down his back. I gaped at him as his gaze narrowed on me. His golden eyes drew to pinpricks as a cold sternness rose on his face. I feared he’d reach for his blade but instead his empty hand shifted ever so slightly. It dangled loosely by his side yet his pads faced towards me, his claws alert and ready. From the limber in his tail I feared he was about to pounce me.

“Who are you?” His voice offered only danger.

I stared at him a moment, unable to find words. As I reached for the page the sylari had given me he crossed the distance between us in long strides. He snatched my wrist and I jumped out of the chair as his helmet clattered to the ground. My head jerked to the side as he grabbed me by the horn and turned my muzzle away from him. He held my body in profile, if I wanted to strike him all I could do would be to make feeble scratches across my body with my other hand. I doubted I’d even scratch his breastplate. He kept my arm extended and stretched my neck such that I couldn’t even twist towards him if I tried, I’d never been so immediately disabled. It seemed no coincidence that my throat was bared and angled towards his open mouth, his lips were taut such that the sharp points of his fangs were visible.

The page between my fingers fell as I let the strength go out of me. “Room servant.” I grunted. He held me for a moment longer, though his eyes fell to the paper. He sighed, then released me. My feet had never left the ground but the strength had vanished from my legs, I fell to the floor with a thud. I stared up at him, enthralled by his imposing stature.

He cleared his throat. “I was not told to expect one.” He muttered, then offered me a hand. I silently cursed that sylvari before I took it and he pulled me to my feet. From the way he crushed my paw, I assumed he cloaked a show of force in the guise of a kind gesture. It was another reminder that he could kill me at any moment, but I was no stranger to that. Once standing, he continued to look down on me, I could tell he took the measure of my height. I peered back up at him and tried to seem unafraid. He stood tall over me, the top of my horns didn’t even reach his shoulders.

I drew a step back and found my heart racing as I took him in again. His fur was dark grey, though a patch of white lightened his face and snout. His mane had been trimmed back to a short length, barely distinct from the rest of his coat. He folded his arms.

“Name.” He sounded tired by me already.

“Aslar.” I kept my voice steady.

His golden eyes watched me for a moment, then he nodded. “Who endorsed you?”

I tensed. “Nobody.”

He growled and stared at the paper in his hand. He snorted as he read his own writing then crumpled the page. He stared at his fist for a lengthy moment with his eyes shut, when he opened them he stared so intensely at me that my legs seized. “Tell me of yourself.” As he spoke, he found composure and his words came out far gentler than I anticipated.

I wrinkled my nose and tried to still my shaking legs. There were lines I had prepared ahead of time, I should speak them as I had planned. “Gladium seeking a better path,” I muttered, the shame I felt was true.

Something crossed his face, his gaze softened. “I see.” He drew in a breath. “Far be it from me to judge gladium.” He tilted his head as he appraised me. I don’t know what he saw in my eyes but curiosity edged his voice as he asked. “Iron?” He was far warmer than I had expected and that made me unsure of the story I’d crafted.

I shrugged. “If they still claim me.”

He snorted in agreement. “Iron turned its back on me, I proved that was their mistake. You will do the same.” Bitter words coated my tongue, my eyes tightened on him for a moment. I kept quiet, lest my thoughts snatch away even this feeble opportunity. He stepped past to drop into the chair before he growled. “Speak your mind, I’ll not have you hiding daggers in your thoughts.”

“I don’t think a room servant is proving anything to the Iron Legion.” I tried to keep my voice neutral but some venom crept in.

A smile grew on his face. “Many Ash spies have proven you very wrong in the past.”

“But I’m not an Ash spy.”

“I should hope not!” Carrus laughed, the sound was backed by a hearty rumble. I tried to ease at the joke but I was still on edge. He sighed. “What happened to your warband?” There was sombre interest in the question.

I stiffened for a moment, the tragic lies I’d prepared fell like sand through my claws. I feared he’d sniff out my untruths in an instant and I did not wish him to doubt me when he regarded me so earnestly as I was. “Nothing. I was exiled.”

If he was surprised or offended he didn’t show it. “And yet you ended up at the Vigil.” He scratched thoughtfully at his chin.

“I don’t want to say why I was exiled,” I mumbled.

“Didn’t ask.” He snorted. “And I’ll expect you to do the same.” His words floated between us for a moment before I grasped what he had meant. My gaze whipped towards his eyes and in them I found an unexpected ally. Understanding softened the abruptness and force of our introduction. We regarded each other silently, he offered an all-too-pleasant smile. “The wine’s in the carafe by your room. I expect a full goblet awaiting me at the end of each day, two if I don’t speak during the first and another if I start writing.” He leant back in his chair and sighed.

I nodded stupidly, still caught up in our moment of understanding.

He cleared his throat. “The first is already late.” His voice was gruff.

I lunged for the carafe and filled the goblet beside it until the rich red liquid threatened to spill over the side. I carried it to him carefully, when I returned he’d unclasped one of his gauntlets, which he swapped for the goblet in my hand. He took an eager sip, sighed and then relaxed into his chair.

“I take it you’ve just arrived.” He made no attempt to hide the way his eyes scoured my body. I nodded sheepishly. “You may pack your things away in your room.” He nodded to the door near his bed.

I shrugged. “I have no things.”

“Then you’re already more Vigil than half the new recruits.” He grinned over the edge of his wine. “Have you been briefed of your duties?” He raised his gauntleted hand towards me. I shook my head. He frowned at that. “For starters you’ll show respect when answering me.” His golden eyes flashed as he pinned me with his stare.

“Sir.” I tried not to stammer.

“Good.” He gulped at his wine. “For the most part you will see to me and my quarters. You’ll have the full run of the keep’s supplies, but you may only take what I direct you to. If I am stationed, I may request you join me. I’ll let it be known now that I will always ask you to tend me, no matter the danger. You may decline without judgement.” He squinted at me. “But if you wish to some day draw an endorsement from me, you’ll do well to impress me.”

“Sir.” I nodded an understanding and hoped my eagerness would indicate to him that was what I wished to achieve.

“See that the wine is always stocked. You’ll find I’m worse sober than not.” He let his fangs show, the residue of the wine looked like blood. He then shook his gauntleted hand in my face. “An unreasonable amount of your time will be spent assisting me with my armour.” He smirked.

“Sir.”

He must’ve detected my displeasure at that, but instead of chiding me he barked a laugh. “We are more than just soldiers Aslar. Certain appearances must be upheld, so each day you will help to clad and declad me. Whilst I am stationed at the keep, much of my time is spent on looking like a model Vigil soldier. In this, I hone my discipline and honour what General Soulkeeper built. This is in no small part why Warmasters have room servants. If you wish to someday join the ranks of our military, you must learn to appreciate what this symbolises.” He gulped at his wine and placed the goblet on the table. “You’ve the stare of a thinker, so I take it you’ve never declad before.”

“No sir.” I startled at his judgement of me. He wasn’t wrong. I feared that decladding was so basic a task that he’d send me away immediately. In my old warband I had not been a solider, nor had I been particularly close to any of them. The workings of their armour were a mystery I chose not to apprise myself of, now that seemed a mistake. Carrus continued as though it didn’t trouble him however.

“It’s mostly clasps and ties.” He smirked as he lifted a sheet of metal on his gauntlet and with his claws unclicked a clasp. He then tugged the piece from his paw and waved his claws at me. “I’ll teach you the trick of each.”

And he did, with an enthusiasm I at first seemed uncertain about, but as I hefted one pauldron from his shoulder I groaned under the weight of it and understood why he was so eager. It was damn heavy, I couldn’t fathom how strong he must be to walk around in this just for show. It must have been a relief to shed the burden. The worst he saved for last. The breastplate took all of my strength just to gingerly shift to the floor and left me panting as I rose.

Under the armour he wore white padded clothing, as soon as the breastplate was clear of his body he peeled the padded shirt from his torso and exhaled as he tossed it aside. The scent of his body suddenly sprung up in the air between us and burned at my nostrils. My eyes whipped to his chest before I could control myself.

For what was visible beyond the thick plate armour he wore every day, not a strand of fur was out of place, every claw was trimmed and his horns even shone like they’d been polished. But under his armour, he was shaggy and unkempt. An encroaching beer belly had started to hide the otherwise impressive musculature of his chest and the wine had smudged away his stern soldier’s veneer. Before me was a tired charr, decorated and revered as he may be, under it all he was just tired.

“Aslar.” He used my name to rebuke me.

I startled, I hadn’t meant to stare. Nor had I meant to snuff at the warm scent his shirtlessness had produced, I only hoped he hadn’t seen me mindlessly lick my lips.

“Your job’s only half done.” He dipped his chin towards his armour strewn across the floor and table, then jerked his head towards the empty armour stand on the other side of the room.

I strangled the exasperated sound that tried to escape my lips. “Sir.” I got to work. It was laborious tedium, the kind of work I had always resented. Not just to lug the heavy armour across the room, but to set it on the stand and clasp it all into place, knowing that tomorrow I would need to undo it all and kit him up again. I tried to still my annoyance, but it damn near boiled over when halfway through cautiously balancing the breastplate Carrus called for more wine.

I scrambled to fill his goblet, my ears burned as I expected the entire stand to topple and send armour clattering in every direction. Fortune favoured me for it held. Carrus chuckled as he watched me race over and set it to rights.

“Come sit.” He beckoned, and kicked out one of the dusty chairs from under the table. “And even draw yourself some wine if it suits you.”

I froze mid-stride. “Thank you sir.” I poured myself a modest amount into a goblet and sat beside him. I had long hesitated around alcohol because I preferred to keep my mind sharp. I knew all too well what drink did to one’s guard, I’d long abused the vulnerabilities alcohol created in others.

“How did you find that task?” he asked with curiosity in his stare.

I hesitated for longer than I felt I should have. The deceitful part of me drew niceties up my throat, I felt I could spin him a story of how earnestly I had loved to peer behind the curtain and see the dedication that holds the Vigil together. It seemed so certain to me that he would see through that, I’d already been too honest with him to start lying now. “Annoying,” I muttered, then sipped at the wine and startled as it grew across my palate. It was fruity and rich, primarily tart and dry but there was a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste that I found delicious. Far better than the bitter drek I’d tried before.

A grin cracked his face. “And it will likely be forever so.” He placed his wine on the table and regarded me warmly. “Your honesty is both welcome and appreciated.” I tried to keep my eyes on his face but I could not deny the allure of staring at the meat of his body, his pecs were firm and his arms were thick. I know he caught me looking. “My quarters are my place of rest. Everything here is as I like it.” He cleared his throat. “And if I am to share this private place with anyone, they must be to my liking.”

“Sir.” I nodded.

“Do not try too hard to impress me. Be as you are normally, else I’ll be on edge around you, and simply spoken I will not tolerate that in my quarters.” He pinned me again under his golden gaze, I tried not to squirm. I doubted he would like me if he knew me as I was, the exile branded such for my lack of self-control. “You may do what you like if there is not work to be done, but keep any of your own clutter to your room. I will treat that as your own space, private from out here.”

I nodded and sipped at the wine. “Understood.”

“There’s been many before you.” He sighed as he uncrumpled the paper he’d scrawled my requisition on. “I found I could not hold them in confidence or tolerate them in my quarters. I wonder if you’ll be different.” He watched me. I stared silently into my goblet and wondered much the same. Then hesitantly, he spoke softly. “I remember all too well what I felt when Iron cast me aside.”

Our gazes bumped awkwardly against each other. I wished to say something of how alone I was, how wounded I felt that all I had known and trusted suddenly turned on me. How terrifying and uncertain the world had become, but it all seemed useless. I watched his lips twitch, then he failed to produce words and I could only conclude he felt much the same. We sipped at the rest of our wine in silence. As he drained off his goblet he held it out to me for more.

“Otherwise, see to my laundry.” He continued as if he’d never strayed from his previous talk of my duties. “Make sure this room stays clean and well-stocked.” He cleared his throat, then flicked his eyes to mine. A wry grin shaped his lips. “And any other duties you see fit to undertake.” His meaning was undeniably clear to me, but I steeled myself from those thoughts. Not here, or at least not now. I wouldn’t risk this chance at a new life.

“Sir.” I placed more wine in his hand.

“Go cleanse yourself of your travels, I can smell you from here.” He cast his gaze aside from me, embarrassment burned my cheeks. “Basement of the keep. There are baths and soap. Go to the laundry first, it’s next to the baths. Take whatever clothes you wish. On your way back, bring me an edge of cheese and some bread from the kitchen, eat your fill there as well.”

I started shaking as I nodded to his orders. “Sir.” I bowed deeply. “Thank you sir.” I could hardly believe that this was all offered to me. He looked up and raised his brow to see me so moved.

He sniffed in amusement. “The simplest pleasures are not a fine indulgence, but again you may be more Vigil than many stationed here if you think basic hospitality is a wealthy thing.” He seemed pleased with me as I hurried off and that put a pep in my step as I wandered the keep in the fading sunlight.

The day was at its close, soldiers were loud as they rushed for the barracks. The kitchen was raucous as I passed it. When I found the laundry I was shocked to see the neatly ordered stacks of plain white clothes in all shapes and sizes. There were garments of coarse linens and soft wools, I found some that fit a charr of moderate stature and took three sets to the baths. When I entered the room was near empty, a few soldiers soaked away from each other in a square tub that was almost the size of Carrus’s chambers. Some whirring mechanism built into the wall allowed river water in, which must then flow out of the bath elsewhere. I grabbed a tub of soap and took a leisurely time scrubbing the grey dust from my black coat. I didn’t dare leave the water until I knew my sleek fur shone once more.

I abandoned my old clothes in a sack used for laundry and willed myself to be as my servant’s outfit was - simple, clean and pure.

As I left, a surge of soldiers crowded into the water and I was thankful for my timing as I heard them joke and jostle.

The kitchen was still stirring like an ant’s nest when I got there. There were rows of table overflowing with soldiers who hunkered over ale, meats and bowls of soup. I wandered for a time and found all sorts of cured meats, cheeses, breads and a cauldron of soup set in the coals of a hearth. I ate my full and then some, I was so relaxed I nearly forgot the bread and cheese for Carrus. I had to scramble back and fight my way through the crowd to grab them.

As I left I found it odd how nobody had minded me. I suppose to them my clothing branded me a servant, barely worth acknowledging. I didn’t mind that at all, their noise was excessive. When I returned to Carrus’s quarters, he was engrossed in writing something. Still shirtless. He thanked me for the food, then I refilled his wine and he did not speak to me more after that. Left to my own devices, I retreated to my room and found it a cosy space. A small bed nestled in the corner, a soft blanket covered a plump mattress. There were drawers for clothes and a thin table which held a tray and an ewer which was currently empty of water.

I sat on the edge of my new bed and tried to find comfort in what this life could offer. For the most part it seemed easy and of little consequence, but that only raised the stakes in my mind because to fall short of any estimation may make me seem doubly ineffective. I took in a deep breath and rose to check on my master.

I stalked to his side as I didn’t wish to interrupt him. “Sir,” I announced myself once he took a break. He did not startle, nor did he acknowledge me at first.

I found him a strange charr, I couldn’t quite grasp the make of him. He seemed jovial and kind yet a simmering intensity bubbled just below the surface. I listened as he started to write again and found him emotional in how he wielded the pen, his strokes alternated between calm and savage, like he sought to rend the paper into a thousand pieces. Part of me wished to glance over his shoulder and read his words but doubtless that would create distrust between us. I resolved instead to marvel at how the muscular planes of his back moved as he wrote. I wondered then what it would be like to bury my snout in his mane and breathe of his scent. I leapt away from such thoughts and chided myself into simply waiting instead.

He stopped writing after a time, then looked up at me with hooded eyes. The wine had gotten to him. “Sleep whenever you wish to.” His eloquence had faded, he was gruff and tired. He waved me off, I nodded and retired.

I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. I should be glad to have this opportunity. I should pour my heart into my work, no matter how small it seemed. If I could win Carrus’s respect, there would be a place for me here. I teetered on the precipice of a life I could have if I just welcomed it and applied myself to it, if only I could steel myself to the stupid thoughts and impulses that had led to my exile.

I bristled each time my mind wandered. There were riches to pilfer beyond my room, sure, but most of them were sensual and despite Carrus’s insinuation of extra duties I was unsure if I should ever seek them. I had known soldiers who sought to treat their bedmates like rivals in battle, that was what my mind seized on and wished to find. I had also known soldiers who truly believed the only time they didn’t have to fight was when they were curled up alongside a lover. I felt all too certain that if I guessed wrong at what Carrus preferred it would cause him to throw me out of his room, and that was assuming there weren’t a hundred other incompatibilities that sharing his bed could make clear.

It seemed far safer to find security and purpose here as a humble room servant than to risk it all for senseless pleasure. If only it were easy to correct the twisted pathways I’d long walked in my mind. I sighed and tried to foster a budding sense of pride within me. Here was a job that I could do well.

Despite the exhaustion of my travels, sleep did not come easy to me and once I found it, it was fitful and brief. I arose to find Carrus snoring in his bed and the gentle light of dawn filtering through the shutters. On his table he’d left me a list of his typical breakfast goods: porridge sweetened with honey, two sausages and whatever fruits looked freshest. Below the list was a simple request, eat with me.

I remembered to fetch the tray and ewer from my room, which I carried down to the kitchen and fixed us both a breakfast. There were other servants going about their motions as they chatted pleasantly amongst themselves. Many regarded me as a newcomer, and when one asked who I had come to serve they grimaced when I had said Carrus’s name. I was all too unsure how to interpret that. As I was about to leave, an older norn dressed in white servant garb beckoned me with a finger.

“Carrus is more than just a picky one,” she cautioned me. “In time he’ll want from you things no one should ever give so freely.”

I tilted my head, my heart picked up in my chest. “Thank you.” It seemed the only circumspect thing to say in that moment, but she gave me a queer look before she turned and went about her business. Her warning had only sparked more curious musing within myself which grated against the newfound sense of pride I wished to embody.

When I returned to Carrus’s room, he was up and slouched over his table. He wore nothing save for a pair of tailored underwear that left too much detail ambiguous to satisfy my wandering eyes. He said little as I placed the tray before him and filled his empty goblet with water. He reached for food like it was a pleasureless chore that he knew he must do. I ate too eagerly by comparison, but as his tiredness abated he smiled to see me enjoy myself.

I had figured he’d asked me to eat with him because he wished to talk of something, but as I cleared the empty plates without so much a word passing between us it seemed he just wanted the company.

It was awkward, but I left him his silence. He would have everything as he wanted it, so if he wished to talk I left that as a thing that he could initiate.

After he ate, he dressed himself in the padded garments that cushioned his armour. I stole glances at his crotch, too eager to find something more of what he kept hidden. Each time I felt a whisker of shame intrude on my thoughts, but I was sure he’d never caught me looking. I knew I needed to control these impulses before he did catch me, I forced myself to focus on stacking the breakfast plates back onto the tray.

I clad him in his armour under his gentle guidance, he was patient with me but affixing the armour to his body was a far more fiddly task than removing it. He stood before me, half-suited as I panted and shifted and hefted and heaved the remaining pieces onto him. He did little to help, but instead watched me with a bemused look on his face. I groaned quietly as I finally clasped the last buckle that held his sabatons. I sat crouched before him, my arms ached with the exertion. He flashed me a grin, much of his face was covered by a helmet I couldn’t tell if the smile was warm or pitying.

“Not very strong, are you?” His voice was gilded with esteem as he effortlessly strode to his table, I assumed then that he was about to reproach me.

“No sir,” I mumbled.

He lingered with his back to me for a moment, then his tail swished mischievously. He glanced back at me. “It’s endearing to watch you struggle.” My ears burned. I snorted like he’d made a dry joke but found comfort in knowing he didn’t see my weakness as a deficiency. Endearing, I nearly scoffed. The word seemed far from appropriate. “Perhaps I’ll have you bearing weight until you strengthen enough to carry the breastplate well.” It was a reasonable proposition, but he threaded a warmer emotion through those words.

He spoke it fondly, like he wished to see me struggle and that the struggle was the good thing instead of my strength increasing. Was it padding his ego for him to flaunt his strength over mine? That seemed a piece of it, perhaps he found pleasure in imposing duress upon others too. I reminded myself he was an accomplished soldier, the things his life would have had him do would’ve warped his perspective on many things.

I tried not to ponder further, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to guess his mind accurately. Still, it was odd to me he found it so joyful to have me doting over his body as I dressed him for the day. The kitchen servant’s caution drifted through my thoughts, I did wish to know specifically what she had meant. What was it that Carrus may want from me? “Sir.” I felt I had been quiet too long. “That may be wise.”

He snickered, then his eyes sought mine and only once he was sure our gazes had locked did he lick his lips. “Once you’re settled into a routine, I’ll teach you the forms.”

I nodded as though it made perfect sense, but flagged to myself that he likely did wish to see me struggle if it was a thing he’d show me himself. “Thank you sir.” I had not wanted to think of all the ways he could make me struggle. All the positions he could hold me in. If I focused I could still feel how he held my horn when we first met, the way he stretched my neck to bear my throat to him. My body crackled in anticipation and longing. Shame quickly followed.

I drew in a long breath and tried to refocus on anything other than the ways he could manhandle me, and what he might wish to do instead of just incapacitate me. Chasing those thoughts and indulging foolish curiosities had cost me my reputation through my entire Legion. I picked myself off of the floor and rubbed at my aching arms.

Carrus lifted one of the pages he had written last night, read it quickly then folded it between his claws. “I’ll be late this afternoon, but tomorrow is my rest day. See that there’s a bottle of whiskey awaiting my return and ensure it’s resupplied before each of my rest days.”

“Sir.”

He drew in a breath. “If I return with a guest, you may wish to sleep elsewhere unless you’re one to listen at doors.”

I jolted and he laughed openly. Ice crept down my throat, I never wished him to suspect anything of the sort. “Of course not sir.” My voice wavered and he sent me a knowing look. He’d caught my lie, and yet that look was not a rebuke for it. He strode from his room and left me to my panic. My cheeks burned. He’d flustered me but I think he had intended to.

I tried to distract myself with chores. I tidied away breakfast and carried my tray down to the kitchen. It took longer than I wished to admit to find the cellar where fine wines and spirits were kept. In addition to the whiskey I took two bottles of the wine Carrus preferred to stash in his room. Next, to the laundry I gathered more clothes for myself and a few supplies for cleaning. I strode back to my master’s rooms with a hefty bundle in my arms and started to clean.

For as simple as he kept his quarters, he sure knew how to dirty what was there. He’d left his wardrobe in disarray, his sheets in a wild tangle and his desk was so covered in disorganised pages I feared a draught had scattered one of the stacks.

As I was making his bed, my brow crumpled when I saw the book on his bedside table. That hadn’t been there yesterday. Burn me, like I was trying to read asuran research notes it took me far too long to realise it was one of Snargle Goldclaw’s filthy novels. I tried to hide an awkward grin as I neatened up the surface and swept away a layer of dust that covered everything except the damn book. Curiosity got the better of me. I thumbed through a few pages and felt my cheeks warm as I stumbled upon an intimate scene between two legionnaires of competing warbands. It was all toss and tumble, but there was something about the forcefulness of the scene that made my thoughts reach for memories I’d tried to keep sealed.

I bit my lip, I was alone and I could trust that Carrus wouldn’t return for some time yet. The allure of indulgence pulled at me… I sighed. I wouldn’t. A thorn of guilt poked at my throat. I placed the book on the bedside table and tried not to think about it as I finished tidying. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left that there for me to find.

Once done, I glanced around the room and considered it satisfactory enough. I snuck in a few gentle hours of sleep, curled up warm in my bed. I had briefly considered laying on my master’s bed instead, but feared to impart my scent upon his sheets. He would notice. I grit my teeth as I tried to wrestle back thoughts of how I’d want him to notice that and do something about it. However, I doubted Carrus would conform to my fantasies of him so I left it be.

I had his goblet of wine poured and set beside his bottle of whiskey when he returned. He stalked grumpily into his room and collapsed into his chair with much clattering of his armour and a groan that seemed to never end. He turned a look on the alcohol before him. I emerged from my room to greet him.

“Why is there wine?” he asked as though it were an accusation.

“Sir?” I startled. “I had thought you wanted wine when you returned from your day.”

“Not when there’s whiskey.” He frowned at the offending goblet, he sounded like a tired cub.

“I’ll remember that,” I muttered. How he expected me to divine the things he expected without him telling me, I would never understand. “Sir,” I added hastily.

He sighed. “I don’t want it.” He lifted it and proffered it towards me. “You drink it.” I saw the devious glint in his eye that betrayed the entire act.

“Well played.” I spoke before I even considered the words, then stared after them like it was a mistake.

He snickered. “You’re quick.” He jostled the wine at me until I took it. He seemed in a better mood as I sat beside him. He unstoppered the whiskey and drew off a hearty gulp straight from the bottle. He winced at the burn of it then frowned at me again until I took a sip. “I am utterly exhausted of this world Aslar.” He spoke with such bitterness I nearly choked on the wine.

I blinked at him. “No guest,” I observed with a frown, fearing he’d been snubbed.

He barked a coarse laugh. “That’s not the issue.” He sucked hungrily at the bottle of whiskey and growled as it went down. “It’s all pointless, all garbage and misery and hate.” He sneered.

“Did something happen sir?”

He glared at me. “I lived, that is all. And to live is to suffer and suffer and suffer every day.” He slapped a gauntlet on the table, my eyes went wide at the sound. A lengthy moment passed in the quiet that followed.

“Shall I declad you sir?” I asked cautiously.

He snorted. “At least wait until I’m drunk so I can sully all this is.” He rapped a hand against the Vigil’s insignia on his breast. He let us stew in his words before a sternness rose on his face. “These are not thoughts to be churned into gossip among servants.” The bridge of his snout bunched up as he bared his fangs.

“Of course not sir.” I felt the weight of his stare and held myself firm, he’d find me difficult to intimidate with force and anger. I swirled the wine and sipped at it, as he appraised me I think I understood what he was seeking - commiseration. I hurriedly gulped down two mouthfuls. I winced as it overwhelmed my palate and sent cloying fumes up the back of my nose. As I grimaced through the haze I saw him ease.

He gulped at the neck of his bottle then stared at me through tired eyes. “How many know what you did?” he asked, though his voice was low I could hear him yearning for an answer. My jaw moved to protest, but he lifted his fingers under my goblet and pushed it towards my mouth. “Drink, consider, then answer.”

I did just that, and it did not lessen the shame that surged to my mind. But it did draw the words out of me. “Four.” I grit my teeth. “And a dozen more who would guess it for true once they heard of my exile.”

He nodded. “And these were your friends?”

It was like he picked at a wound that hadn’t even begun to scab, blood retreated swiftly from my fingers and I went cold. I had been becoming something I was proud of just weeks ago. I held the esteem of my warband for my strategising, amongst them were friends I had grown up with, friends I thought I would keep my entire life. I had the ear of my legionnaire, and through him the consideration of my centurion. Once a tribune had heard that I had devised a plan and remarked that they had trusted my judgement entirely. I had climbed those connections and burnt them to ash for stupid, wasteful lust.

As I trembled, I tried thrice to answer and failed each time. He breathed through his nostrils. “It gets easier.” He snarled into his whiskey. “But only as everything else gets harder.”

“You said you wouldn’t ask.” Finally my protest freed itself.

“About the reason for your exile, yes, but I’ll tug at other details to burn myself in remembering how utterly right what I’d done had felt at the time.” He tested his claws against the Vigil’s mark on the back of a gauntlet. “No matter what you make yourself, you will never undo whatever it is you have done. You will always be an exile everywhere you go.” He seemed to be rubbing my face in it and I would have been incensed if not for the hollowness in his voice which told me he was more concerned with rubbing his own face in it. “Rumours find me still, usually brought by new recruits who had heard of me from those who witnessed my worst moment. The Vigil acts as a shield for my honour in public, but in private they will gossip and find glee in knowing I’m no different from any other fool.”

“Sounds harsh.” I wrinkled my nose and then drained off my wine. “I have no desire to find myself in your position.”

He cracked a bitter laugh at that. “You couldn’t if you tried.” He challenged me like he wanted a fight. Instead I merely nodded.

“I’ll be the first to admit I’m a coward.”

My words deflated him, his ears fell and his gaze drifted from my face. “Perhaps there’s wisdom in that.” He spoke through a quiet growl, then threw his arms to the side and sighed. “Declad me and leave me to wallow.”

I stripped him of his armour and as I hung it on a stand I heard him stumble in an attempt to free himself of the padded clothing that gripped to his wrists and ankles. He’d grown too drunk to manage it for himself. I helped lift the shirt over his head and struggled to fit it around his horns. As I knelt to pull the trousers from him, whatever resolve I had seemed to crack like a failed dam and burst in a surge of longing and lust.

I sat before his open legs, his underwear plain in view. The scent of his body clawed at the air and I breathed him in from a short distance. I lingered a moment more than I should’ve, he looked down on me, his expression was jovial but held the blankness of a drunken man. I had found myself in this position more than a dozen times before, kneeling between the legs of a sodden superior. As the moment drew out I knew he was waiting for me to decide if I’d reach for extra duties.

Perhaps if he was hard. Perhaps if he’d forced me to drink more wine. Perhaps if he had encouraged me in any way, I would’ve faltered. But he told me to leave him to wallow, and so I would. Every muscle in my body was tensed and begged for release, yet I knew in my heart that I could not go there. Not again. Never again. Burn me, he’d just made me consider the stupidity that had led to my exile, how could I ever believe myself changed if I caved so immediately?

It felt like tearing myself from fate as I tugged off his trousers and stood. I was trembling as I folded the clothes and placed them aside for me to launder in the morning. He did not seem disappointed, he did not seem like anything but drunk. He turned back to his bottle and was dismayed to find it empty.

I retreated to my room and grew angry with myself as my body and mind both seemed intent on reliving and lusting after temptations that would only bring me ruin.

These were the challenges I had created for myself. I too wallowed, for me it was a shameful thing in which I dragged claws through all I had convinced myself I loved. At some point, I found myself in a shallow sleep. My eyes were closed and my head ached something fierce.

A sound startled me awake. Through the darkness of night, I heard it again. I crept silently to my feet and tiptoed to the door to listen closer. A grunt followed by a gasp, then a low exhalation. A chaotic patting sound was interspersed with creaks of the bed. It took my tired mind a moment to adjust to the sounds. Unmistakably, the drunk was pleasing himself.

I tried to reach for my shame and guilt because I knew what was coming, but I hesitated and in that moment it was like a struck match sputtered to life within me. My arousal flared. In an instant, plans rose to my mind. I could step out in search of water, or just to investigate a strange sound. I could act shocked, but still ask if he needed assistance and lay bare my lust for him. I doubted he’d deny me whilst drunk and caught in the act. Shame came bounding after those thoughts, and yet all I could remember was him catching me in the lie about listening at doors. I don’t know why that felt like permission, but that was what I reached for. I winced over my own desperation as I stared into the grain of my door and listened with my ears keen.

I would act on no foolish plan, but I would pilfer what I could from the privacy of my room.

Through a flurry of percussive slaps I couldn’t help but dwell on how stimulating his room must smell. It stirred a memory of his scent from earlier. My hackles prickled in longing. I knew I could help him, burn me maybe he even wanted me to. The longer I stood there the harder it was to keep myself hidden.

But then he voiced a groan, followed by another and then a hefty sigh. The bed creaked as he moaned again. After a pause, he rustled and then there was silence. I don’t know how long I stood by that door. My body trembled as I waited, scarcely breathing until I could trust he was asleep. I don’t know at what point my inhibitions had failed but there was a threshold I crossed without even realising and a new plan hatched.

The first snore was my cue.

I knew I shouldn’t, and yet the temptation coiled and lashed within me so desperately. I couldn’t help myself, not with such a opportunity laid plainly before me. This sort of thing was exactly what got me in trouble with my Legion. I inched open my door, silent as a whisper. The air of his room was thick with the stink of his sweat. My mind felt unanchored from my body as I prowled to the side of his bed and I stole a longing glance at him. Disappointingly, he’d covered himself to rest but here I found his wadded underwear tossed to the floor.

A thrill shot through my entire body as my thumb touched the warm wet patch he’d blown his load into. I dawdled for just a moment as I lifted his underwear to my face and snuffled at it. I don’t know why I had to do it there. Perhaps I wanted him to wake to find me, perhaps I wanted him to make me regret such a personal intrusion. The fabric was ripe with the scent of his sweat and cum. I suppressed a moan as I silently padded back to my room.

With a door between us, I crammed the used garment against my face and snorted eagerly at the mingling scents of his body. His ball sweat hit like a bludgeon to my skull, it held a dampness that mitigated the burning, masculine aroma of charr sweat. My cock throbbed painfully against the confines of my pants, I crammed a hand down my front and squeezed my cock as my tongue stabbed into the folds of the cloth.

The taste of his cum made my entire body shudder in perversion. He was salty with a bitter edge that left me quivering. Buried under the flavours of his seed was a hint of the wine that he guzzled daily. I decided then I’d never deny him the indulgence of sharing a goblet with me, just to savour this memory forevermore.

As I pushed aside a fold of the cloth a glob of his cum oozed into my muzzle and blanketed my tongue. An unbidden moan snuck out of me, I tried to bury my face in his underwear to silence myself. The scent and taste of his cock made my entire body buzz with pleasure, my toes tingled as I snuffled and lapped at the fruits of his labour. What a useless freak I was, I had to hide a snarl as I pumped my cock with ego. Carrus tasted far sharper than my old legionnaire. Smelled better too, fuck.

I bet if he caught me he’d know what to do with me.

It was all I could think about. The Warmaster rising from his rest, barging through my door and shouting at me as he took in what a creep his servant was. Then he’d catch an idea, his manner would shift and he’d rut me until I was a snivelling, leaking pile of meat. He’d slap and claw and bite at me. He’d see me for the worthless bastard I was and he’d take the only thing I could offer him from my body repeatedly, night after night until I was barely more than an object with holes to him.

I wanted his frustrations, I wanted his rage and disgust, I wanted him to split me open and wash me in load after load of his cum until no piece of my identity remained. I wanted to be his nameless slave, chained to his bed and forever marked by his use of me. It was that thought that got me.

I gasped and bucked and sprayed my seed across the floor of my room. I felt lightheaded as I had to brace a hand against the wall, I slunk to my knees and panted. The Warmaster’s filthy underwear was half draped over my snout and half in my mouth. I must’ve lapped it clean of all of his seed, yet the tang of his sweat still remained. It took me time to gather myself. I stared sheepishly at the mess I’d made and wrinkled my nose, though my fingers still quivered with joy.

Through the warmth of the afterglow, a wriggle of frustration made itself known. I’d regret this come morning. I blinked at the underwear and felt guilty for holding it. Now it was evidence against me.

Without hesitation I sequestered the filthy garment in my drawers and knew I’d find myself sniffing after it for days to come. He was so drunk I doubted he’d even remember he jerked off, let alone where his underwear had gotten to. I’d be up before him, If I cleared his laundry early tomorrow morning he’d never suspect a thing.

My heart was still racing as I mopped up the mess I made with today’s shirt, I’d need to take my own laundry too. Burn me, I shouldn’t keep his underwear but I couldn’t resolve to dispose of it yet either. Soon, I promised myself. A few nights of lust to satisfy my urges, and then I could pack those feelings away and never return to them.

I crawled into bed and wished to disappear from the world, there was a rushing in my ears as guilt and self-doubt sent my heart to hammering and anxiety made me nauseous. I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. I had promised I wouldn’t and yet here I was, tempting fate to once again catch me in my depravity.

My mind spun out into oblivion.

I woke later than I wished to, shame rest like a block of lead in my skull. I couldn’t stop my ears from folding and as I slipped from my room I realised I needed to clean myself before he woke. Carrus lay on his side, his legs kicked at uncomfortable angles. The sheet was tangled about him but his nakedness was obvious. I braced against my door and hesitated as I caught sight of his muscular ass. His tail quivered in his rest as he sniffled. I froze for a moment and prayed that he’d roll over and show me all he was hiding. I was not so fortunate. As my mind caught up to my senses I gaped at how immediately my shame had vanished when the temptation appeared. It seemed a condemnation of the most basic parts of me, that I couldn’t still myself in the face of lurid opportunities.

It was a strange thing to reach for guilt in the face of pleasure. My thoughts shifted as I considered how I needn’t burn myself in displeasure. I was a coward, I was weak, these were things I knew for true, so why did I fight them? I knew I tempted myself to overlook my own pain because it simply felt better to bury it.

I kept my position and let my eyes rove hungrily over his back and cheeks. He was a damn fine charr and I wanted nothing more than to give him a warm and sensual wake-up. Last night sat heavy in my mind, I could still taste the salty remnants of his cum. My cock strained against my clothes as tendrils of guilt stabbed at my mind like a dozen needles.

How would he react if he roused to my muzzle stuffed in his crack and my tongue pressed against his hole? My thoughts jumped in leaps and bounds. If I stripped and crawled into bed with him, what would he think? Would he even remember last night? Could I convince him he’d rutted me instead of pleasing himself? It was too daring and grandiose a lie and yet some part of me wanted to try.

My heart raced as I gathered our laundry as fast as I could and hurried away to see it dealt with. Yet I longed to stay. I longed to watch him sleep. Burn me, the curves of his ass seized my thoughts entirely and all I wished was to see more. I tried to take my time, I tried to chide myself for my foolishness and desperation, but I know I rushed as I scrubbed, rinsed and hung our clothes to dry. I took time to wash myself, but did not rinse my mouth of the sweetness of his seed. That I savoured privately. I scrambled together our breakfast items, in doing so I startled other servants who had been going about their tasks.

I must’ve looked a sight because the older norn from the other day took note of me immediately. She placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “You needn’t return to his room.” Her voice was but a whisper, she sounded both encouraging and understanding. I stared bug-eyed at her for a moment before I untangled what she’d meant.

“It’s fine, I just felt unwell.” I rubbed at my neck as if to suggest some kind of ache. She gave me a flat look, I don’t think she believed me but it seemed far harder to suggest that I welcomed my master’s advances.

I hurried back to Carrus’s chambers and set my tray down on his table with far louder a clatter than I meant to. I froze and my gaze whipped towards where he still rested. He barely stirred.

I made myself busy as I watched him sleep. I chose different vantages, but never glimpsed what I wished to see of him until he roused. His eyes flickered open and blearily spun about the room. Like he carried a mountain on his shoulders he made an exasperated sound as he sat up in his bed. I saw him recoil from a wave of nausea, then he unceremoniously threw off his sheet.

I tried not to let my eyes linger, but they did. His foggy gaze sent shame burning in my cheeks but if he was troubled or interested by my curiosity he was too tired to show it. Even flaccid he was large. I drunk in the sight of him, my eyes traced a thick vein along the side of his shaft and my heart raced to wonder what it would smell like to grind my nose into the shaggy grey fur of his sack. His balls were huge and in that instant I wanted nothing more than to help empty them. My thoughts seized the fantasy and I knew I went still. It took much effort to pull myself away, and I hoped he was too tired to process how much I’d stared.

“I’ll remind you,” he croaked. “My quarters are my private place of rest.” He rubbed clumsily at his face. “And you’ll take no issue with my nudity.” He spoke with more strength than I thought he’d have after last night.

There was a pause before I found the words to answer. My ears burned with panic, I felt like I’d been caught and yet it was he who had consciously exposed himself to me. “None taken sir.” I didn’t risk looking at his eyes, lest my gaze settle somewhere else. “I- uh, just…”

He laughed as I scrambled and that told me volumes of how he had interpreted my exasperation. Fire caught in my cheeks. He then tilted his head and snuffled at the air. His gaze fixed on me as he sniffed towards me. He made no attempt to hide the action. A charr’s nose is keen, but was his keen enough to smell the scent of his own seed on my breath after a night of rest from half a dozen paces? I wasn’t sure. Embarrassment burned in my cheeks but I stared back at him in mock uncertainty. “Sir?”

He flared his nostrils then shook his head. Did I dare imagine the slightest smirk pull at his lips? My heart froze and I was so suddenly sure he knew what I’d done, or at least suspected. I knew it would only raise suspicions to try to appear innocent, instead I tried to appear ignorant to the presence of uncertainty. I was a servant who had done nothing untoward and thus had no reason to fear.

“Water.” His voice cracked. I had it for him in an instant. He gulped it back and tossed his horns.

“Anything else?” I prompted as he did not speak further.

“What do you think I need?” his voice shifted and he stared at me. I couldn’t tell if it was a rebuke or a probing question. His own eyes drifted brazenly down my body. Burning thoughts came to mind and I had to strain not to bring my gaze back to his crotch.

“Food,” I mumbled and turned without needing further orders. He made a low sound like a tired chuckle. I raced to the table and forced myself to drink some water once I had everything set. I took deep breaths and tried to still my mind and my body. With a grunt Carrus lurched from his bed and sat sprawled in his chair, still entirely naked. My heart raced, had he noticed his old underwear missing? He grinned at at me, but I couldn’t discern what emotion it carried.

Today I was thankful for the quiet meal we shared. When I went to rise to clear the plates, he placed a hand on my wrist. My heart set to racing immediately and I braced to fend off more sordid jests.

Instead he spoke with sadness. “Tonight the Vigil celebrates the anniversary of Mordremoth’s defeat.” He withdrew his paw to idly rub at his belly and he ruffled his shaggy grey fur. “I will return more drunk than you’ve seen me. Perhaps drunker than I’ve ever been.”

“Sir.” I dipped my chin as though I understood. I suspected last night was the anniversary of something far harder to celebrate, a tragic loss on the cusp of victory perhaps. I had seen well what remembering could do to even the most steadfast soldier.

“Not a one of us wishes to relive the dragon’s jungle.” He huffed out a breath. “Rest today. I’ll need your assistance tonight.” He spoke it as though he was confident I’d understand his meaning and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. My breath caught, he’d disarmed my defence with his sombre tone before he stated his intention. Warmth seared my cheeks.

It seemed a wrong and shameful thing for him to put faith in knowing the heart of my unspoken glances. They were a selfish act I couldn’t contain, yet he so boldly inserted himself into them like nobody had done before. It seemed as impolite as my own staring and for a moment I wasn’t sure if I should be outraged or embarrassed. The only rational choice seemed to be to ignore it entirely.

“Sir,” I said again, the awkwardness of the moment nearly made me flee. My heart picked up in my chest and I found myself speaking again without meaning to. “I’m no stranger to such a thing.” The words swept out of me as easily as if I’d rehearsed them. My mind pulled at the memories of my old centurion. A wicked, bitter charr who had sworn off of all pleasures in life until he found himself in his cups. Once sodden, he was all claws and teeth. I had enjoyed encouraging his drinking and further enjoyed the way he treated me once drunk. I sobered my thoughts, such stupidness had ultimately led me to my exile.

Carrus cocked his head at that and said nothing further. He rose to dress in his padded clothes, he kept his back turned to me and I knew it was a trap. I kept my head down and for once succeeded in respecting his privacy. If he was disappointed, he made no indication until I reached for his usual armour, he spoke. “The decorative set, Aslar. It’s a celebration.” He chided me as though I should have known ahead of time. Maybe I should’ve guessed.

The decorative armour’s black accents shone like polished obsidian, their ridges held golden edges which made the pieces almost regal. The silver had been polished to a near-white sheen. It seemed a flimsy and impractical thing by comparison to his usual armour and its clasps were more difficult. He was twitchy as I suited him and it became blindingly clear to my nose that he did not care to wash himself of last night’s alcohol sweat. I blushed to consider how much more enticing that made him. As he moved his arms to assist me, I longed so deeply to see him without the padded cloth so that I could bury my muzzle in his armpit and take the dark sweat-scent of his body into my lungs.

I breathed deeper than usual as I kitted him up, I know he took note of that. I wish for it to be a silent, unacknowledged indulgence but alertness gathered about him as he reacted to the closeness of our bodies, his head perked up and despite his hangover he stood a little taller. As I encased him in the breastplate his leg shifted to bump into my hip and I made a startled sound that brought a grin to his lips. When I tightened a strap to hold a gauntlet he loosed a soft purr as my fingers pressed against his wrist. I sniffed sharply at that. I knew he teased, now he knew I reacted. When I looked up at him he peered down almost adoringly upon me. I could’ve melted in his gaze.

I was light-headed as I finished buckling his sabatons. He sighed, then spoke. “If only I’d woken earlier, don’t be afraid to rouse me.” His directness startled me like nothing else, burn me I’d damn near gaped at the full sight of his body, how else would he interpret that? Nerves made me jittery, his directness could yet be a trap but the norn servant’s concern sat at the front of my mind. He surely had a reputation and I wished to know how he had earned it. He laughed and clarified nothing, then he rose and tussled my mane as though I were his pet.

I stared eyes-wide after him as he strode away. He had made decisions about me that I hadn’t been privy to his reasoning for. I know I would have rejected those decisions if I could, my shame demanded I would not do otherwise but when it wasn’t my choice… I warmed and shook to think what would happen upon his return.

What was left of the morning felt entirely aimless. He’d told me to rest today, and I did once I had tidied away breakfast and carried our plates back to the kitchen. On my walk back to Carrus’s room, I took a detour out of the keep and onto the wall. It was the first time I’d been outside since I arrived here and I took a moment to enjoy the rising wind that brought the warm, dewy scent of spring grass. On the flat beside the river dozens of tables had been set up, a wall of ale kegs backed the area and hundreds of soldiers swarmed about the bountiful food and drink. Atop an unburning pyre near the river a knobbly carving of a serpent’s head stood. An effigy of Mordremoth, likely to be burned once night fell. Even at a distance it was raucous and loud, fragments of shouts and laughter reached me.

I did not wish to join them, but my gaze scoured the celebration until I found him. Carrus sat on the edge of a table and was encircled by a group of crusaders. He was animated as he gestured dramatically through a story, in one hand he held a frothing tankard of ale and when he found room in his story to drink he made his dependence on the alcohol look like merriment.

A sigh rose within me. Here was a side of him I may not ever get to witness directly. I pursed my lips, when had I become so concerned with knowing him entirely?

I retreated to my small room. I stared at the drawers from the edge of my bed and felt beyond stupid for what I’d hidden there. With a growl I let it lie and tumbled under my sheets. I was behind on sleep and yet it still did not come easily. It was late afternoon when I awoke, a wisp of smoke in the air told me that the effigy of the dragon now burned.

I had no pressing tasks to do before Carrus’s return. Left to suffer my thoughts, I picked at the knot of mystery my master’s reputation held.

I went looking for the norn and found her at a table in the kitchen, she had a few bowls of colourful glass beads in front of her and she threaded them into a pattern that glittered and tinkled as it moved. I stood at her shoulder, unsure if I should speak or not, but she looked up and frowned as she recognised me. “Are you well?” she asked in a guarded tone.

I nodded. “I am.” I wrinkled my nose. “But I wanted to ask what you knew of Carrus, and his past servants.”

She flapped her arm in rapid gesture that I keep my voice down. “I only know what we all do. He’s had more than a dozen room servants over the years, goes through them faster than any other Warmaster they say.” She spoke quietly and resumed threading her glass beads. “’Cept he’s been particularly unpleasant of late, gone through five in the last year. The Vigil’s barely made an effort to supply him with another, suppose you were just unlucky.” She frowned.

“He can be moody,” I conceded. I wanted her to trust or at least pity me but I also didn’t want to spread gossip about my master. She was the only person other than Carrus who’d shown me any care since I had become a servant.

“Nobody else’s temper’s like his.” She stabbed a needle into a bead. “The others take it out in battle, not in bed.”

I held back the grin that tugged at my lips. “Is that all he did?”

“All?” She scoffed. “He hurt them.” She sniffed sharply and threw her braid across to her other shoulder. “Nearly killed one of them.”

“How?” My heart beat a little faster, out of trepidation or arousal I could not tell.

“How do you think?” Her brows gathered. “Or are all charr as flesh-headed as he is?” I blinked and she seemed to interpret that as the only sensible thing I’d ever done. “You’ll run if you know what’s good for you. Don’t know why they keep him around, they say he tortured-”

I hissed her into silence, the vicious sound rose involuntarily from my throat the instant I knew what she might divulge. That was not for me to know, it was rumour and hearsay. I did not care to know who. I did not care to know how. Even the word was too much, though I did not believe it the truth. I had agreed with my master that I would not ask what had led to his exile and to me that felt a pact I could not break lest he learn of my secrets too. I would not circumvent our agreement by hearing from others what he was too ashamed to speak aloud. It was shame enough to carry my own burden, let alone suffer his.

She looked at me, startled and incensed. I snarled back with surging anger in the contours of my face. This was not a fight I had meant to start, all around us servants stopped to stare. The norn shouted something but I panicked and ran, my ears shut to anything she might say. I did not care. I did not wish to know even a hint of it and it mattered not to me that I’d just isolated myself further.

I was trembling with fury as I slammed the door to Carrus’s chambers behind me. How dare she speak so openly of something she knew nothing about? I wore a snarl as I paced the room, a dozen thoughts coalesced around a scheme to end her and make it seem an accident. I quivered with such rage I’d never known. If she knew how badly Carrus ached over his regrets she would never run her mouth so stupidly.

I startled to find my thoughts chasing his misery. I drew in a long breath to try ease the intensity in my breast and when I growled it out I fell mute and still. I could just imagine those I used to call friends rabbiting on about me to anyone. They’d twist truths into myth just to seem interesting as they aired my deepest secrets like trivia. I seethed until I shook and wept and cracked to pieces. I glared daggers into the floor and wondered if perhaps it would just be easier to kill them all and surely die in the process of trying. Either way, my shame would be buried.

Longing welled up within me. I wanted nothing more than to throw this shame before Carrus and beg for his wisdom. In time, I would. Who else would understand? I could only hope that when I did he knew of a solution. I cursed as I panted, these thoughts betrayed a feeling I hadn’t known I carried. At some point in the last few days I had come to trust Carrus entirely. Perhaps it was when he first divulged to me that he was an exile, likely it came later the more I learned of him.

As quickly as this tantrum had unpacked itself from my heart, I crammed the shattered pieces of my composure back together and begged myself to keep it all shut until some day when it no longer made me so intense. I knew I’d accomplish nothing if I gave into those feelings, but they were too uncomfortable to both carry and act at the same time.

I hid myself under my sheets and didn’t wish to think of anything until my master returned.

Hours of frustrating, empty rest passed before Carrus staggered into his quarters and cursed as his foot hit the side of the entryway. The scent of wine and heavier spirits wafted from the antechamber as I ran to his side. He was incoherent as he asked for something. I dragged him to his chair and stared bleakly as he lolled forward. His decorative armour clicked and clattered as he swayed. He hadn’t returned with his helmet.

He was so utterly wasted I smothered my desire. I would not trust the mind, nor the intent of a drunk again after I’d been so betrayed by my centurion. If Carrus truly wanted me, he could have me when he was sober. He could do anything he wanted to me while his mind was his, never again did I wish to suffer the lashing out of an ashamed superior. My anticipation scattered, it was foolish for me to have hoped for anything to occur. I knew I could not trust my desire, so why had I let it fascinate me? Better to keep myself safe.

“Declad me!” The order was backed with a mirthful twist. My heart raced as I started to unclasp his gear, I tried to be gentle as I doubted the decorative armour would hold up to scratches and dents but he swayed. At times he plucked at the fur of my arms and giggled when I twitched, he’d made a game of it that only made the act of decladding him more frustrating.

When I loosened the clasps that held his breastplate, he grunted as I shifted the weight from his shoulders. It was like opening a box of spice, suddenly the scent of him filled the air as it permeated the padded underclothes he wore. I shook, then we both jolted as the armour slipped through my hold and clattered to the floor. He stared at it a moment, then gave me a bleary look. I was about to speak to defend myself for letting it fall, but he laughed.

“Now I gotta…” He swayed and grimaced. “Gotta punish ya.” He reached for one of my horns, I could’ve easily stepped away but I was so mystified by what he’d do that I let him grab me. Faster than a striking viper and with far more force than I expected him to be capable of, he snatched me forward. I stumbled off of my feet as he jammed my muzzle into the pit of his arm and held me with such strength I couldn’t move. I fell forward painfully onto his lap and gasped, his padded clothing was still damp with sweat.

The burning aroma of masculine charr sweat clouded my thoughts immediately. I struggled on impulse, the vice grip of his arm was choking yet I snorted and huffed shamefully at this scent and again he laughed.

He held me crushingly, like all he wished for me to know in the world was his stink. Punishment, he’d called it. In this moment it seemed anything but, I know my body reacted. My skull pounded as his scent coalesced into a dark flavour in my mouth which clawed at my tongue. When he let me go, he nudged me off of his knees. I longed to stay in his hold but as the fog of his body cleared I burned with conviction. I would not relive past mistakes, I was shaking when I stood before him. The real punishment was in my head, I grit my teeth as I failed to control my thoughts.

He snorted and giggled then stabbed a finger towards my crotch where my hardening cock made itself more known than I wished. “Not punishment enough!” he cackled. I burned in embarrassment. He lifted an arm towards me. “Go on.” He urged me to take off his shirt.

I would not deny him that request but same as when I had been between his legs yesterday, it was a task to do and not an opportunity to indulge. I lifted the garment off of him and my urges surged. My heart pumped like wild as he made a contented sound. He rubbed at his shaggy belly and truly I wished for nothing more than to be on my knees with my snout buried in his fluff. He stared at me like that was where he expected to find me.

He settled back into his chair with a grin and placed his hands behind his head to leave his hairy armpits exposed. The scent of him poured forth and I know he caught me struggling not to look at the darker clumps of fur that were thick with sweat. He was far too confident in his assessment of me for him to also be so right, I wavered over my impulses. This could be over soon. Sabatons, tassets then greaves and I could put him to bed.

He waited until I took the first sabaton off of his foot before he spoke again. He flexed his toes in my face. “Ya like that too?” His words were a mallet to my skull. My eyes popped, I stared up at him and froze. He pressed his pads against my nose and laughed as I lingered just an instant before I recoiled, though we both knew I’d stolen a sniff. He made a satisfied rumble, like this was a game he knew he was winning.

“Almost done,” I muttered, mostly to myself. He cocked his brow at that and behaved as I finished removing his armour.

“Leave that for tomorrow.” He nudged the breastplate on the floor, then he grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the edge of his bed. My heart fluttered, nerves seized my belly.

Giggling, he tugged me to sit with him. His thick arms encircled me as he tried to crush me in a hug. I wasn’t sure whether to welcome this or not but I longed so desperately to indulge it. His head rocked forward like he was dizzy. I startled as he knocked our horns together, then his nose pressed against mine. He licked drunkenly at my muzzle. I startled then leapt back and he laughed giddily before he sagged forward and nearly fell onto me.

“You’re shweet.” He spoke through his laughter.

“You’re drunk.” I tried to put an edge of responsibility in my voice, but my mind tangled around the possibilities.

“Aslarrr,” his tongue dragged on my name. “Put me to bed and-” He spoke through a purr then broke into giggles again.

I waited for him to compose himself, I would help him settle then send him to sleep. To think of anything else seemed like welcoming ruin. I felt numb as I drew back the top of his sheets. “Sir.”

He sighed. “You’re boring tonight.” He sniffed, then turned to look at me. “Naked,” he reminded me. “I sleep naked.” He giggled. “Put me to bed. Bet you’d like that, I remember you looked!” He jabbed a finger in my face and gave me a crass grin. “This.” He tugged fruitlessly at the padded pants. “This. Tight.” Then he fell backwards and lay with his arms spread outwards. It was all too easy to see myself filling the openings he’d left for me, I tried to keep myself steeled from even the possibility but his scent snared my thoughts.

I grimaced as I struggled to pull at the garment until I found the tie that rest against his furry belly, it was hidden inside the waist and as my fingers slipped under the layer of fabric he thrust his hips teasingly. Were I not shaking I may not have struggled so much to untie the string. I wasn’t looking at him. I couldn’t bring myself to, I think I knew what I saw from the corner of my eye. I think I knew what I’d do, and I wouldn’t allow it to happen.

I finally tugged the trousers free and I knew my job was done. Something made an audible slap. My gaze snapped back up to his chest, I gasped. He was buck naked under the padding and fiercely erect. There was no ignoring it now. He had the fattest cock I’d ever seen, like the cannon of a war tank it stuck out from his body at a perfect right angle. I stared as my embarrassment warred with wonder. Was he nine inches? Ten? Burn me, his head was as thick as my fist, maybe even thicker.

His scent reached my nose and at first I recoiled from the unexpected strength of it. As I breathed in I drooled, the pants patted as they hit the floor. He’d spent all day partying in his suit of armour, padding and all as he drank himself into a stupor. The stink of his cock sweat made me gasp, standing beside him it clouded out my thoughts. My body reacted reflexively. I snuffled eagerly at the air, the sound shamefully audible. Once more I’d found myself on the other side of a threshold I was so sure I’d never cross again, yet all I could do was indulge the burning smell of his masculinity.

I was not in control of myself as I dipped forward and moaned as his scent polluted my head, he was equal parts dirty and exquisite. It agitated the perversion within me and all I wished was for him to choke me on his massive cock. I hated myself for my thoughts but I also could not stop them. He could take me in his drunken stupor and use me as wildly as he dared. I paused as I started to catch up with my actions. He had wanted me to take his pants off, I knew he wanted me to see this. Undoubtedly he wanted me to do something about him, to serve him as my job entailed.

If there were more distance between me and his pulsing erection I may have given it more thought, instead I let the flames of my arousal catch on my sensibilities. I’d never been one for self control.

He made a sound when my nose pressed against the tip of his cock. He flailed a hand aimlessly until it settled on my head. He cooed and moaned, his body wriggled as his fingers groped blindly for one of my horns. He gripped me in place and made a soft sound as he rubbed his damp cock over my snout. I shivered in pleasure as he sweat mingled with my fur. My mind grappled after what I’d done, I breathed so deeply my lungs ached and pressed out a moan that was so shamefully loud it shrivelled whatever sensible part of me was left.

Eager for more, I flicked my tongue against the underside of his shaft. The salt-tang of his sweat dried my tongue and a thrill crackled through me as he cooed. I lapped at him excitedly, desperate to taste all of the sweat that coated him. He giggled like a fool and jolted at each swipe of my tongue.

“Aslarrr, Asssslarrrr.” His voice was jovial. “Heard sh-” he hiccuped. “Heard too many shtories of servants Aslarrr.” He was taunting but it made me freeze. He sat up. My heart hammered in my chest as he forced me to recognise exactly what I was doing. This was all that I promised I never would do again. I leant to pull away but his hand still dangled on one of my horns. He tugged me back to stare at him. “I didn’t shay stop.” He sounded hurt through his slurring. I felt unease roil inside me, this choice would surely undermine the security I thought I’d found and yet it was all I wanted. To taste him was an automatic compulsion, he gasped as I licked at him again. After a satisfied exhalation, understanding seemed to reach him. “Ahhah, been shneaking peeks. I remember.” He made a low sound as I coiled my tongue around him, eagerly seeking creases around the base of his cock where his sweat tasted strongest. “I did… I did say you could lick me, coy and sneaky.” He giggled again. “Maybe you’re too shlow for hints.”

“No.” It felt dangerous to admit it. “Just…” I lingered in the scent of his crotch. “Cautious.”

He rubbed his hefty cock over my muzzle again. I sat frozen and accepted it passively. “Well I ain’t gunna shtop ya. Ever.” He added the final word as an afterthought. My ears perked and my cheeks prickled. “Wanted ya… ah, wanted ya to want me, but gotta lookit proper.” He sighed and wiggled his hips such that his cock rolled over the curve of my snout. “I want ya.” He sat up, then burped and placed a hand on his stomach for a moment. He shook his head and wrinkled his nose before he stared down on me. When I snuffled at the tip of his cock he giggled again, then he leant forward to tug me from between his legs. My entire body bristled to be in his hold but I longed for more.

His eyes were clouded and he seemed to forget why he wanted me beside him. I stared for a moment, waiting, and when he made no move I nuzzled at the fold of his arm. The raw stink of his sweat made me gasp and groan, his armpit held a clump of dark fur which carried the strongest notes of his masculinity. I rubbed my face into his pit and moaned as my entire perception of the world became him and his sweaty body. The dark flavour of his sweat stained my tongue, his burning scent clawed into the back of my head and seized my mind. I wanted nothing more than to be his room servant forever, I would serve him in any way he desired.

“Burn me,” he muttered, then smeared my face in his pit. “You hate waiting. Me too.”

I moaned an agreement and continued to coat my snout in his stink.

“How rough?” he spoke it as though he already knew the answer. I did not reply, he seemed to think something of my silence because he chuckled and rumbled in anticipation. “Alright.” An ominous note rung out of the word. He spoke it with such finality I almost panicked and asked what he was about to do, but still I held my tongue. The kitchen servant’s warning plucked at the edges of my mind.

He pulled me out of his armpit and stuck two fingers in my mouth to wet them. I grunted as I expected him to continue, instead he pulled away and with a deft flick of his claws slashed through my shirt. The fabric parted as easily as if he’d used a blade and a stinging pain rose on my breast.

I blinked as he shoved me clumsily to my side. There had been no need to spell out my desire to give myself to him, he simply did what he wished. His hand wandered down my body, his eyes bright with lust as he stared at my chest. Another slash of his claws opened my shorts. I shuddered in anticipation and my cock jumped to attention. Suddenly it became the most important thing that he saw how average I was, I wanted him to feel huge.

He appraised me hungrily, I couldn’t help the way my cock twitched and leaked pre down my shaft. A purr rose in his throat as he snuffled at the air between us. His claws dug into my flesh as he walked them over the edge of my hip. In a fist he snared my lashing tail and raised it, then jabbed both fingers at once into my asshole. From his abruptness I could tell he did none of this for my own pleasure, all he cared about was his own. That sent a thrill racing through me.

I yelped but held steady as he forced his fingers in and then out of me, once, twice and then he paused. He dropped my tail and struck my face, the impact so sudden and sharp I jumped away from him. He pounced on me with more alacrity than I expected, our faces pressed together as he caught me under the weight of his body.

“You’re not tight,” he sneered over an edge of disgust. He snorted in my face, the warm air of his breath made me weak. I wanted him to slap me again, but instead he pressed our brows together with enough force I thought my head was about to pop. “I know what that makes you.” Though he still slurred, his voice was razor thin. All I could breathe was the whiskey-stink of his breath. I stared back at him, my heart raced to think that he could find enough pieces to put together the truth of my exile from all that he knew of me now.

I wished to cower from his potential knowing, but here I felt in my element. I watched him, undeterred by his judgement of me. A meek grin rose on my face as he loosed a snarl that rumbled into an eager purr. I licked my lips, it seemed to confirm more than any words I could speak to him at that moment.

He grabbed the side of my face and forced my head to the right. With a shove he turned me on my flank as he crawled off of me. His palm ground my snout into his pillows, I shifted my ass back towards him.

The preparation was woefully inadequate for a charr of his size but he had deemed me unworthy of more. He shaped me in his hands like I was a ball of clay, seemingly he thought I must be if I were to take him near dry. I knew I had the agency to protest, to warn him off. But if this was what he wanted then it was what I’d give him. Without even a lick of hesitation he clumsily spread my ass and plunged into me. It was not a smooth entrance.

Like he’d run me through with his greatsword I howled out. Pain split me asunder as he forced his way into me. My body burned as he squeezed me open from within.

I made a gasp, instinct demanded I tried to reject him. I was outwardly crushed from inside, his intrusion into my body clashed with all I wanted my life in the Vigil to be and yet I welcomed what he did to me. I wanted him to remake me as his own.

Something hurt. I swear I felt something break and I embraced the ceaseless bearing of his weight as he crammed himself deeper into me. Inch by inch, I know I howled again as my body refused to go lax. My mind wanted him to choke me into silence, to squeeze the breath from me until his hips touched my ass. The wracking pain through my body was sweeter than any pleasure. The realisation that this was what he thought of me brought a sweeter ecstasy than any drug could offer for this was what I thought of myself, a thing to be used and destroyed once it was broken.

There were tears in my eyes as he growled and bore himself down on me even harder. I wanted the pain to break me, I wanted him to tear me open and enjoy every worthless shriek I made. I know I sobbed as he forced my body to accommodate him, if only he knew how badly I had wanted this. I was a useless thing and as my master he deserved to break me for his own amusement. He drunkenly fumbled at my muzzle before he clamped my mouth shut and gave one final, firm thrust. I tried to shout but the vice grip he had on my muzzle only muffled it. My mind went still as he bottomed out inside of me. There seemed a lull in the passage of time, I was full to bursting and unable to focus on any single though or feeling.

Pain radiated from my belly and delighted into pleasure as it reached my extremities. Two halves of my mind sung out, one in bliss and the other in panic. I welcomed them both. He loosened his hold on my muzzle and flopped inelegantly beside me before he growled in my ear. Every slight movement his hips made tugged my body in wild directions, I was bound to him by the wedge he’d forced into me.

I gasped in tiny breaths that made him giggle. “Too big?” he taunted as he rocked his hips against me. I managed to shake my head as I whimpered. His gaze was singularly fixed on my face, his eyes narrowed to the same pinprick intensity they had when he first saw me unexpectedly in his quarters. I stared back at him, and I don’t know what he understood from my look but something shifted in the set of his jaw. Like he viewed me as an enemy on the battlefield his claws came out. He gripped my arms with such fury I barely even felt his claws as they lacerated me. The iron clamp of his grasp was inescapable.

He growled as he started to raise his hips, I tried to relax into whatever punishment he saw fit to deal. He humped into me for but a moment before he found a sharper pace. He tugged me by the arms back against him just as hard as he fucked me. His voice became a rabid, snarling thing like he guarded himself from a wild animal. I could scarcely breathe and yet I moaned aloud as he rutted me. He was bigger than anyone I’d ever taken but my body remembered the punishment of days passed and tried to accommodate him.

I was powerless to move. He pulled my arms to straighten my guts as he plowed them without remorse. A storm of pleasure whirled through me and eased the pain as it ebbed away, all other feelings were trampled by the storm and my voice broke with each percussive slap of his balls against me. He exhaled sharply into a growl and rode me even harder, his soldier’s body had been honed for a lifetime to find such a forceful pace.

His hips slammed into me again, this time with with enough force to topple us both as his momentum carried us forward. I was caged under the weight of his body and couldn’t breathe as he fucked me into a silent, shaking puddle of sweat. He felt alive in ways I’d never seen another charr, energy filled his features and his stamina was boundless as he thrust endlessly into me. The walls of my body blurred and I wanted us to stay as one thing forever.

He was like a machine as he pounded me with ceaseless vigour. The passage of his cock left a gilded path of pleasure right to the core of my being. The tips of my fingers buzzed to numbness and I could feel less of my face the harder he went at me.

When he gave a final snarl, his entire body trembled. I cried out as his massive cock throbbed within me. He arched his back and lowed as he shuddered and collapsed, I felt the warm spray of his seed. He throbbed and throbbed as he filled me in weighty spurts. Then he slumped for a lengthy moment, his arms trapped me to his chest. With the end of his punishment my body seized upon utter bliss. All was serene as I tried to catch my breath. Whatever pains and aches within me existed were muted under the blanket of pleasure he’d fucked into me. I just felt warm and tired, here in his arms. The world smelled of him; I smelled of him.

He panted hard and heavy against my back, I could feel his heart hammering away. He drew in shuddering breaths and rocked his hips idly, then he nuzzled the back of my head and sighed. “Shoulda known.” His voice carried both exhaustion and good humour. He nibbled at one of my ears, then grew still.

A tired smile slowly shaped my lips. Whatever he thought of me, I welcomed it dearly. Once I felt able to, I whispered. “Thank you sir.”

He answered with a snore. I was trapped in his stinking, drunken embrace. His thick cock was still embedded in me, warm and wet with his own seed. I enjoyed the stillness, a sense of rightness that thrilled me. I rocked my hips back against him and moaned aloud as I jerked myself to a finish that left me shuddering anew. He did not rouse and I once more found bliss in his arms as he softened.

He held me like a bandit gripping stolen treasures, the kind of white-knuckle intensity that refused to abate. I wished to move, but the more he snored the more I was sure our situation would not change. Eventually, I found rest.

I woke to a sudden shift. “Who-” Carrus’s voice was sharp. My head spun as he flipped me over so our chests were pressed together, the weight of his muscular body pinned me against the mattress. “Asla… ahah, itch you.” He blinked at me, surprised. I squirmed and gasped as my startled mind made sense of where I was and what was happening. I was in Carrus’s bed. He’d fucked us both into a stupor, then we had rested. As his body lined up alongside mine, it was obvious he wanted more. I could only lean into it.

Pain crackled like lightning through me and I whimpered as he pressed into me again. He slurred and muttered words I couldn’t comprehend. He sounded angry. He sounded wild.

A thick paw groped for my throat. I retched as he squeezed my windpipe in his muscular hand. I kept my eyes opened and stared into his, in the dim light he looked a soulless thing. His face was blank, like his actions were automatic he bore himself relentlessly down on me and I could tell he was still wildly drunk. It was clear he’d mastered something of sensual choking because even blindingly drunk he held such a fine point of my throat that I could draw in a rasping breath. It did not seem sufficient to keep me conscious, but it prolonged my wakefulness as he choked me for his own pleasure.

He laughed as I shuddered, to play the part I gave into the impulses of my mind. My claws scratched weakly at his wrists and as though my feeble attempts at defending myself aroused him further, he throbbed excitedly within me. His wild bucking stilled as he laughed over me again. The sound would have chilled me had I not felt I deserved this treatment. He made self-satisfied noises with his cock buried deep inside of me as I tried to grapple with his hold on me. He took me to the brink of consciousness, as my fingers slumped from his wrists he released his grip on my neck. I heaved in a massive breath, and with the inhalation he slammed his hips against me and resumed fucking my limp body with bullish intensity.

He placed his hands on either side of my head and stared down longingly at my face for a moment, then he slapped me. The first crack of his hand jolted me to alertness, the second jostled my mind for the third to beat me into a mindless state. All was percussion on either end of my body, I welcomed his violence as he battered me repeatedly. My ears rung with the impact again and again until it stopped. I felt myself slip into some kind of state because I stopped reacting to the pain, then he frowned at me like he was bored.

I panted up at him through addled eyes. He pulled himself out of me and stared down on my body like it was a puzzle he wasn’t sure how to work.

“More.” I don’t know where I found the strength to speak the word. I don’t know what distant part of my mind had coated it with such urgency. His eyes widened and he made a deep rumble.

“You’ll regret saying that.” His voice was drawn thin and sharp, like he wished to kill me. Perhaps he did. And perhaps I deserved it. He rolled me over and tugged me by my tail to pull me to my knees. He lined himself up behind me, but before he thrust into me, he crawled over my back. I think we both shivered as he pressed his muzzle against the tender muscles of my shoulder.

He went almost still as he braced his fangs against my shoulder, I could feel how hesitantly he teased my muscles. It was a threat and little else, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he would, or could even do it. The fantasy of it must have thrilled him because he moaned as he rubbed the head of his cock along the crack of my ass. It felt strange to find power over him here, for all his threats and violence he didn’t wish to truly hurt me. I’d have to teach him not to care.

“Please,” I whispered. He startled, I felt his jaws tense. “Do it, please.” I begged. His breathing shifted like he either couldn’t believe his luck, or wasn’t entirely sure what it was he was about to do. I tried to go limp, but at the last moment tensed.

His jaw clamped down on my shoulder and I shouted out as I felt my blood run. He growled deep in his throat, I felt the sound reverberate both through my shoulder and back. He snarled as he shifted his hips and thrust manically into me, his jaw stayed locked as his fangs bore into my muscle. I felt his tongue probing the place where his fangs held me, it tipped something within me that was never meant to be tipped. For this drunken warrior to fuck me to the taste of my own blood, I wished to leave my own life forfeit to his pleasure. Were I to die in the next few moments I would leave this world ecstatic.

He seemed just as surprised as I when I bellowed a drawn out moan and bucked like crazy. His teeth tore at my flesh as I moved in ways he didn’t anticipate. I howled into his pillows as I shot a massive spurt of cum across my belly and splattered up my neck. The pressure on my shoulder eased for just a moment, like he wasn’t sure but I protested somehow. I don’t know what I did but it hurt like hell. I made urgent, pathetic noises as I tried to keep myself in his mouth. He understood immediately. I shouted again as his fangs found new purchase in my flesh and I went limp under him.

He fucked me with a passion better saved for the battlefield. His snarling grew loud alongside the percussive slaps of his balls against my taint. His jaw was a vice clamp that anchored me to this place and purpose. I became a useless thing, one which he used as viciously as he dared. I did not defend myself, I lay still and did not interrupt him. I dared not even moan lest it disrupted the single-minded focus he had as he made bestial noises in his pleasure. I had only wished I could see his face so I could stare into his blank eyes as his body did things I wasn’t sure his mind understood.

He lifted me upright, my head only held straight by his clamping jaw on my shoulder. He fucked me without abandon and I lay in his hold utterly powerless. It hurt to take his intrusions but I welcomed the pain like nothing else. His cock slammed into me so deeply it seemed to dislodge my mind from my head. I felt I watched myself as an onlooker, trapped in his jaws. I saw myself as little more than a body that would soon be a corpse. He braced claws against my belly like he was about to eviscerate me and I made such a delicate, affirming sound. I know he heard it for the way he shuddered seemed almost unnatural throughout his thrusting and like a machine rattled to pieces by its engine he came apart.

We toppled to the sheets, his thrusting found a slower and erratic pace. He lifted his head and roared in my ear as he blasted another load into my core.

As his jaw loosened, I felt a hollowness within me. To my addled mind I could only consider it as the gaping hole he’d made of my body. He breathed heavily beside me as he struggled to still the shaking of his hips. He made a noise then, somewhere between a shuddering breath and a chuckle. Unbidden, I made a similar sound. Then his claws found my chin and scratched delicately at my throat. Not a threat, but a kind and gentle gesture. I found the strength within me to purr and he rumbled pleasantly in response.

He was still heaving breaths as he groped for something. “Here.” Pain boiled anew as he pressed what was left of my shirt against the bloody punctures on my shoulder. Then he slid alongside me and cuddled me so tightly I feared he’d crack my spine. His whiskers tickled my ear as he spoke. “That was the real you.” He affirmed. He did not ask to confirm, he didn’t need to. He was my master and if that was who he wished me to be, that was what I was. It helped that it was so natural a fit.

I breathed an affirmative and he shook with a quiet giggle then rolled away from me and went still. I held the cloth to my wound and stared at his muscular back in the moonlight, too addled to move. Too pained to do anything else but embrace this bliss.

It seemed like hardly moments passed between his second orgasm and the onset of his snoring, but I suspected that was a trick of my own body trying to reclaim itself. I lay breathy and sticky beside him, his seed oozed from my hole. I grit my teeth as my cock flexed painfully like I was about to burst, his obvious lack of care for my pleasure only made me more desperate for release. I knew what would push me over the edge. I was careful of my shoulder as I crawled between his legs and licked him clean with an urgency that astounded me.

I was almost disappointed not to find the iron taste of my own blood upon him, that thought spurred a fantasy I couldn’t reclaim. Sniffing, my nose pulled me to rest in the muscular crease of his ass. I snuffled hungrily at his scent and it comforted me. Perhaps I was tired and too rocked by the intensity of tonight’s pleasure, but the scent of him tugged at things in the heart of my identity. I had once considered myself proud to be an individual, but what point was there in being that when Carrus could so join our bodies and have us both feel things unmatched by the waking day?

As I lay there I found myself sniffing more urgently at the stink of his body, I had wriggled my nose right up against the base of his tail and I felt myself near-drunk off of his scent. His heavy nuts draped either side of my snout and the weight of his legs bore down achingly on my horns. The scent of his body burnt my mind to ash. I could only use my injured arm to jerk myself, and yet the pain made it sweeter. It seemed a sin more than any other as I sprayed my load over my master’s fluffy rump and thighs.

I stared as it soaked into his fur and bewildered myself to find guilt welling up in my mind. It was an awful thing to dirty so proud and powerful a charr with my worthless seed. I licked him clean and found joy in doing so. The pleasure only spurred me on, what more could I do to serve my master? I knew I couldn’t sleep until the bleeding stopped, so best serve him in the meantime.

My tongue dragged further up his belly and he made soft noises in his sleep as I lapped in regular strokes across his breast. I had never felt so airy, so ecstatic and alive. I cleaned his entire body with my tongue. It took hours which passed in a hazy obsession I couldn’t shake. I had to do this thing and I had to do it right. Nobody else would and it was a truism beyond shaking that Carrus deserved this kindness.

On his face, I at last found the iron taste of my blood. Crimson stained parts of his muzzle and I imagined us savouring my pain together as I tongued it free of his jowls.

I spent a long time buried between his thighs, my tongue lolled over his balls and swept the crease of his ass hundreds of time before my jaw ached enough that I begged myself to put it to rest. His cock was rock hard and leaking, but it seemed a wasteful thing to get him off when he was asleep and I barely clung to the edges of consciousness.

Instead I rubbed his precum into my muzzle and let it coat my tongue before I settled down beside him to rest. I wanted to wake up marked in a mask of his pre.

I do not think I rested, rather I drifted consciously through a dozen dream states. Each was more perverted and deranged than the last, there were no places my wretched mind did not tread. I wasn’t even sure I woke up, but at some point during the mid morning I returned enough sense to remember that I piloted this body.

My ass hurt and there was an aching pain in the pit of my stomach. My body tried to tell me something was not right yet my mind greedily twisted that feeling into joy. It was right, nothing had ever been more right before, like he’d fixed some part of me that didn’t even know it was broken.

Maybe I didn’t have to steal my depraved pleasure. I stared at him sleeping beside me and snuggled up such that my muzzle was buried in the crease of his armpit. I lay there and breathed deeply of his scent, my hazed mind could not wait for him to wake but my body begged for more rest.

I know I dreamt strangely, if it were lucid or I was simply just awake I could not tell. My mind was evenly split between shame and pleasure. I hadn’t wanted to slip into old habits and yet Carrus made it easier to do so than it had ever been.

I was left in a wasteland of my own thoughts as I reflected on everything that had passed through my head while he used my body. I knew it unnatural to beg for my own doom and yet here, in the bed of a stronger charr who could just as easily snap my spine as he could split me with his cock, it seemed almost inevitable.

With the taste of his sweat still clawing at my tongue, I dreamt of lapping at his asshole. He tossed and turned until he could bear it no longer and haphazardly snatched me to fuck my throat. In the dream he held my cheeks and stared in disbelief as his seed soaked into the fur of my face. He seemed genuinely shocked to recall my presence in his bed, then he tumbled me into his strong arms and whispered my name alongside his fiery desires. I held a fleeting memory of him stroking my chest.

I woke to him squeezing me against his belly, the taste of his sweaty ass on my tongue and a sharp pain in my throat. “Servant indeed.” His words slurred out differently to before, he was well on his way to a hangover. “Not a dream then,” he muttered, his eyes were on my bloody shoulder.

I grinned. “No.”

He made a low sound, he let his claws dangle over my hip as he snuck a hand around to place a finger in the crack of my ass. I grunted and rubbed myself back against him. I must’ve been too eager because a wild look filled his face. “Just me?” he asked. I nodded, though now my thoughts wandered down the path of him sharing me about. “How many times?”

“I don’t remember. Three, I think.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I smell your spit all over me.” He observed before he snuffled at his own armpit.

Embarrassment burned my mind to cinders and ash as I recalled all I’d done to him in his sleep. “Sorry.” My voice turned to a whisper. “Got carried away. Sir.”

He roared with laughter before he forced himself to still. He grit his teeth and held his stomach for a moment, then resettled himself more comfortably.

“Need anything, sir?” I asked.

He replied by tugging my hand down to his crotch. His cock twitched and throbbed as he hardened. “Do that as often as you please.” He purred as he wrapped my fingers around him and used my body to jerk himself.

I squeezed him and took over, he flicked his gaze up to my face and cursed when he saw the silvery smear of dried fluids that stained my black fur.

“Once more can’t hurt.” He spoke with urgency, then he rumbled as his hands hooked around my hips, his claws pressed into my thighs. I gasped, surprised by how insatiable he was. But I did not resist him, I would deny him nothing. He dragged me by the ass up to his head. He moaned at the sight of me, then nuzzled his face between my cheeks. “Made a mess of you.” He sounded so satisfied. His tongue lashed out, I gasped as he lapped at my hole. It was the first directly pleasurable thing he’d done to me. “You taste like you’re mine.” He slapped my ass and rubbed his snout against the base of my tail.

“I am.” The words jumped from my tongue. “I have the punctures to prove it.”

His claws pricked greedily at the sides of my ass. “You do.” He slapped me again. “Did I hear you listening at your door a few nights ago?”

I tensed. “Uhuh.” He responded with a pleased rumble, then pressed his tongue between my cheeks again. I moaned and wriggled against his face as he lapped at the mess he’d made of me. I was panting and shaking in his hold as he plunged into me and lashed his tongue wildly. He made a deep sound as I trembled, then he rubbed my ass and drew back. Sheepishly, I spoke. “You’ll find your underwear from that night in my third drawer.” It felt like such a weight off of my chest to admit.

He snorted in amusement. “I’ll only encourage that behaviour.” He lashed his tongue and growled into my hole. “Give me all of you. Always. I’ll even punish you for holding back.” I moaned as his hand found my head and shoved me down onto his cock. I stretched my jaws eagerly to take him, but he was too thick to do so comfortably. With a forceful jab his cock dove into the back of my mouth and struck the top of my throat. I made a wretching, hacking cough. He paused for just a moment, but before he could doubt himself I threw myself right back at him with more force than he’d shown me. He snickered, then let the sound fall into a low growl as he thrust into me harder than anyone ever had before.

My eyes bulged as I squelched and gulped around his girth. The channel of my throat swelled painfully with him, the thought of him choking me on his fat cock left me light and leaking. I had thought he was going to hump himself back against me, but instead he laced his fingers behind his head and watched me over a satisfied grin. It seemed a perfect stage for him to witness my depravity and devotion.

I forced myself down on him until my body made awful retching gasps, I wheezed around his cock and held myself there until my lungs burned, then stayed a moment longer. I gurgled and my body weakened. My vision dimmed, but I silenced every alarm in my mind until he ripped me off of his length. I heaved in a breath and let my spit dangle from my muzzle. There were tears in my eyes which doubled when I saw both amazement and concern on his face.

“I’ve seen a man choked to death who made less wretched sounds than that.” He gripped my scruff in a firm hand. “Do you value your life?” An edge of pity rode in his voice.

I coughed and wiped spit from my chin. My throat hurt like hell. “Less than your pleasure,” I admitted in a croaking voice that hardly seemed my own.

His stare went harsh for a moment. “There’s something very wrong with you.” He sniffed, then the sternness left his face. Eagerness took its place as he lifted his brow and released his hold on me. I gripped the base of his thick cock in a hand as I welcomed it back into my muzzle, he watched me lap and suckle at him for a moment before I found the strength to swallow him to the hilt again.

It stretched the edges of my vision to look up at him for approval, he smiled down on me for a moment. His smile fled. My ears went flat as he shifted. He slammed a weighty paw down on the back of my head and ground me so hard into his crotch it abraded the skin of my nose. He bucked his hips like the pistons of a war machine, his iron hold on me kept me pinned and unable to do anything but bear his abuse. If I breathed, I did so in stolen gasps. The slap of my muzzle into his belly left me disoriented.

He fucked my throat relentlessly in pursuit of his own passion. I felt myself squeeze inwardly, my mind retreated from my body and again I seemed I could only watch as he choked me to my end.

My vision darkened further and my body went completely lax as I reached and then pass the point I’d been at a moment before. It was only as I released the hold of myself could I hear his whining moans that reached a feverish intensity. His hand tensed, his claws gouged me as he roared.

He throbbed so violently within me the new wave of pain brought me back into myself. I recoiled with all of my strength, he held me tight at first as he roared again and I felt a second spurt of his cum coat the walls of my throat. I tried to jerk away again and he held me just long enough to prove he could overpower me with ease. When he let me go, I fell away without any strength.

The first lungful I tried to heave in seemed only to be his seed. My body seized as I wheezed in a tiny breath that only left me spluttering and coughing up his spunk. I thought I was about to puke, instead I flopped to the side and took in shuddering breaths.

He placed a paw on my back and rubbed cautiously. He sat with me for a few tender moments that were all too brief. “I must go about my day.” He spoke with disappointment plain in his voice, then he left me while he readied himself, shame kinked at my thoughts. As his servant I should be helping him, I wasn’t sure if I could trust the thought because nothing that came to mind seemed to make any sense. I was addled by his treatment of me and didn’t think I could stand without help. I knew it shouldn’t delight me as much as it did. He came to my side before he left, dressed in fine dark silks. He tutted over me then stooped forward to lick my ear. “Rest,” he bade me.

He left me lying in his bed. His sheets stank of last night, the scent of our sweat had mingled into a single thing that set my mind racing with thoughts of indulgence. I couldn’t bring myself to rise, it seemed pointless when all I wanted was for him to come back and do it all again. I could feel all he’d done to me. My shoulder stung something fierce. Every time I moved I felt the remnants of our dried orgasms tug at my fur. My ass ached, there were a dozen pains throughout me I couldn’t trace to a singular moment. When I licked my lips, I could still taste his sweat and seed. My throat felt as though I’d swallowed a razorsaw.

For a time I thought I was going to get up and clean, but I’d always been indulgent and lazy. It was easy to craft the narrative that this was how I thought he wanted me. Naked, filthy with the fruits of his body and wanting. So I waited. I tidied some clutter and tended to my shoulder between naps, each time I roused to a throbbing boner that refused to rest.

When he finally returned from his day, he collapsed into his chair with a groan. I feared he was in another mood so I hurried to bring him his goblet of wine, he hadn’t even looked my way until I proffered it to him. He plucked it from my hands and then stared at my nakedness for a moment before he took a sip. His eyes prowled my body with a hunger I encouraged, I couldn’t help the precum that slicked my tip. I stood before him, my cock pulsed in the space between us. I could see the way he ordered words in his head before he spoke, but I could also see his eyes shift when my cock throbbed.

He took another sip then cleared his throat.

“Upon my return in the afternoon, if it suits you, you may lick me clean of the exertion of the day.” He wasn’t Carrus as he had been last night, and especially not the briefly considerate and gentle charr he’d been after he had finished taking his pleasure from me. This was the stern Warmaster that disabled me the moment we had met. Funny how that only seemed to flare my arousal higher. “And then when I rest, if it suits you, you may lay beside me and I will take this as a sign your body is mine to do as I please with through the night and into the morning for as long as you remain in my bed.” He swirled the goblet before he took another sip. “Anything, as I desire.” He affirmed with a satisfied smile and a nod towards my shoulder. “And as you have seen, I don’t stay pleased long.” He smirked. “I suspect that’s to both of our benefits.”

“Sir.” I nodded an eager agreement.

“Good.” He wore his smirk a moment longer. “I’ll show you some secluded spots you can wash yourself in the river if you don’t wish the soldiers to see the marks I’ve left on you.” A satisfied look filled his face, then sharpened into hunger as he stared at my belly. “Or, wear my filth until you can take it no longer, and I’ll send for a bath to be brought here.”

“So long as my appearance and smell aren’t of any concern to you, I will do the latter.” I spoke with my head down, shame made my ears burn. I wasn’t sure how tolerant he’d be of my urges, few seemed to be. Embarrassment scorched me as I imagined trying to do my servants tasks looking and smelling like I’d been the game for an entire warband.

“They are of concern to me.” He raised his eyes to my face and my heart sunk. “I want to make you so much worse.” He spoke the words firmly. A fierce grin shaped my lips, I tried not to seem so eager but I couldn’t help myself. He drew a long sip of his wine and exhaled like it was the finest ambrosia. “Keep this up, and in time I may offer you an endorsement should you wish to be more than a room servant.”

My brow raised, I’d completely forgotten. He must’ve thought me stunned for he kept speaking.

“And once you become a crusader, or more, you may continue to share my quarters, or not. I shall leave that to you.”

I hesitated a moment, then spoke in a low voice. “Treat me as you have been and I may want nothing more than satisfy your every urge.” His eyes twinkled as I spoke. “Though,” I continued with icy hesitation. “If it…” I exhaled awkwardly. “I think you may be able to help me, sir.”

He raised his brow. “How so?”

“The shame,” I muttered. “The guilt.”

He went cold for an instant, as if stating the names of the feelings had conjured them within him as well. In the dark flicker on his face I felt hopelessness rise to claim me. But when he replied, he did so with great warmth and understanding. “We’ll never be rid of the memories. I told you, it gets easier as everything else gets harder. Make something of yourself heart, body and soul. You may learn to find peace in the challenges ahead. That is the best we can do.”

I wrinkled my nose. “And if all I wish to be is yours?” Heart, body and soul I felt I pledged myself to him then and there.

“Suppose I’m challenge enough.” He chuckled, then licked his lips. “Suits me just fine.” He shuffled in his chair and lulled back with his legs spread. “Go on then, gladium.” He layered the word thick with disdain as though he pitied me. Like he knew he was more than I’d ever be. I could hear in his voice just how fiercely that made his ego surge. I did not try to comprehend the ways that made me feel.

“Sir.” When I nuzzled the inside of his thigh a thrill passed through my entire body. It seemed a joke that here was how I pledged my life in service to Tyria, but then I’d been lying to myself too.

Even I felt pathetic when I could not resist humping his leg as I buried my snout in his crotch. Here was the life I had wanted.