The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Mora nods slowly, “Am I to understand that Geofen women are considered inferior to men?”

This time, Irving turns his gaze out the window, remaining silent for quite a while. “Yes. As a whole, women are considered no more than a commodity, a thing to be obtained once a man becomes of age, a vessel to carry a child, a servant to tend to his needs. In their religion, women are considered to be of the sea-unable to remain constant or reliable, ever changing and wild. Men are their Keeper, the ones responsible for taming them, forcing their submission, commanding their virtues.”

When an ironic laugh escapes her lips, Irving turns a surprised look to her. Mora shakes her head, muttering under her breath, “That is where they have it wrong. Women are the Keepers. Women are the ones that provide the land with life and without them it would cease to exist.” She meets his gaze and sees the curiosity within him; desperately she wants to tell him the secrets that she holds. Knowing that he will be hers and she his, Mora feels a moral obligation to be forthright with him yet she knows that now is not the time, she must wait until she has gathered all of the facts. Even then, though, she is unsure if she would divulge the true origins of the immortals.

Irving doesn’t press her like Rick would; he understands that when she is ready, she will open up to him. He slips into the seat next to her, taking the veil from her hands. Expertly he swathes it over her hair, folding and wrapping the length around her head until just the sheer part remains. When he drapes it over her face it covers her yet she is able to see through it though everything takes on a reddish tinge. His gentle hand caresses her cheek through the fabric.

“Thank you, Namora, for all that you have done. Not only for me, but for Derven, for Alumenia, for Sceadu and for Geofen. I am privileged that I will be able to call you my wife one day and I will forever work to become worthy of being your husband,” his voice is quiet and sincere.

Mora stares deep into his eyes, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. She can feel her connection to him, her desires towards the man whom not that long ago didn’t exist to her or to the world. Though she still very much wants to lead a quiet, humble life with a solitary partner who cherishes her as much as she does him, she has begun to accept the fact that she is destined for more. Last summer she believed she would never have a husband and now here she stands to have four. Her worries still plague her of the nature of Prince Philip but she considers herself beyond lucky to have both Rick and Irving by her side.

“Thank you, Irving. I cannot imagine this is without difficulty for you. I myself am having moral hesitations with the thought of… more than one husband. It simply isn’t normal.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

He huffs a laugh, an easy smirk on his face as he sits back and gazes upon her, “I am fairly certain that not a single one of us would qualify as normal, Namora-not I, nor Rick or Philip and most definitely not you. You, my dear Queen, are one of a kind.”

A smile touches her lips, “You say that as if it is a good thing, Irving.”

“Believe me, it is. You are just the woman our land needs in order to repair the damage that has been done. No one but you would be capable of this.” Mora tenses when she feels the carriage slow to a halt but Irving places a gentle hand on hers, “I asked Jackson to stop here.”

He pulls the hood of his cloak up, ensuring that his face is covered, before opening the door and stepping out. Mora takes his hand when he offers it and joins him on the public road. She barely recognizes it from a distant memory of her past, one of the few trips she made with her father when she was a child. They are well beyond the meadow, which is no doubt still stained with blood. The forests of Scedau and mountains of Alumenia have begun to dissipate into the loamy soil and thick vegetation of Geofen. In the distance she can see the gleam of the sun off of the royal palace’s teal dome though they are still too far for any prying eyes to see more beyond the black dot of the Derven carriage.

Greystar walks up to Mora, the puff of his snort swaying her veil as he inspects her new attire. She reaches up and gently strokes his nose before staring into the darkness of Irving’s hood, barely able to make out his eyes. “Care to enlighten me?”

“Those of Geofen are horse people. They take pride in their abilities to tame the beasts and associate status with the merit of them. Your father understood this, so while he traveled by carriage for a majority of the journey he always made sure to cross into Geofen on one; he gained respect for this and for his horsemanship.”

She nods slowly, recalling the few times she remained in the carriage for the entire journey while her father always rode to the palace. The memories make her heart ache as she misses him dearly yet she pushes those emotions aside in an attempt to remain focused on the task at hand. When she is about to mount Greystar, Irving stops her.

“Women in Geofen always ride sidesaddle,” he says softly as if ashamed that he is correcting the Queen, “to show their modesty.”

Jackson, having just joined them, eyes Mora curiously, “I’m not entirely sure if the Queen has ridden sidesaddle before.”

“I have not,” she replies as she begins undoing the buckles beneath her horse, “nor do I have one. So, I will go bareback.”

“That will most definitely gain you prestige, Namora,” Irving reaches up and removes Greystar’s saddle.

“Well in that case,” Mora unclasps his bridle and removes it as well, speaking in a hushed voice to Irving, “might as well show off a bit. Perhaps that will ease some tension amongst the citizens that any sovereignty will cause.”

With a mere command, Greystar tilts his massive body down to the ground so that Mora can perch herself on his back. When she pats him on the neck and he rises again she finds the asymmetry of both her legs on his left side to be a bit cumbersome but knows she will manage well enough. Glancing down, she speaks to Jackson, “Once we reach the palace, make sure you remain with Irving at all times. The meeting is set for this evening after dinner so keep him out of sight until then. I will send for you, understood?”

Jackson shifts uneasily, “And who will be your guard?” Irving mirrors his hesitation.

Though he cannot see it, she smiles beneath the veil, “I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Advisor Jackson. None the less, I will have Prince Varicken with me as well as Advisor Laren. The three of us will be able to take on any situation that arises.”

He bows his head, holding his fist over his heart before returning to the seat of the carriage. Irving runs his fingers over Greystar’s thick neck. Mora can see the apprehension in his stance, even if she cannot fully see his face. Before she can question him, he offers a short bow and retreats back into the carriage.

Greystar leads the way, needing no command; Mora takes in the surrounding country side, watching as the thick jungle like vegetation changes. The grass becomes more sparse until it is simply rough tuffs haphazardly scattered in the sand; the trees shrink in thickness but tower high in the sky, reaching for the brightness of the sun that beats down upon the land. Though it is the beginning of winter, the temperature is amiable, to the point where Mora is comfortable without need of a cloak. As the town grows large in the distance she can make out the peculiar buildings; not wood like Derven nor stone like Alumenia but they almost appear to be made out of a seamless material resembling the sand around them with clay tiles adorning their roofs.

At the large gates framing the main road into the town, Laren waits atop a horse. He tilts his head curiously at her, a slight smile on his face while he takes in the sight of the Queen of Derven arriving in Geofen for the first time. Word has spread quickly and the road is lined with townsfolk all wanting to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. She can hear their excited murmurs of approval of her appearance, even if she cannot understand the local tongue itself.

Laren takes up his place at her side. He bows his head, “Queen Namora.”

“It is good to see you again, Advisor Laren.”

“The hunter bids you haste, lest you miss the meal. While all was well within the chase, the fish and friend are cutting a deal.”

Her head turns sharply to him as the message becomes clear-Wallace and Sheyenne are attempting to finalize the outcome of Alumenia without her. It is a strategic move as her vote would be the only opposition and therefore worth nothing, at least that would be the case if Irving didn’t exist. Steadying herself by gripping a tuft of Greystar’s mane, she spurs him into a quick trot, her entourage matching her pace. She would have rather made her way slowly through town to allow the citizens a chance to inspect her but now she must rush in order to prevent a disastrous outcome.

Within minutes she reaches the palace, surprising the Geofen guards. While one rushes to get a step stool for her so that she may climb down, she dismounts easily. Irving steps out of the carriage, Jackson immediately by his side; both men can sense that something is wrong. Her voice rings out clear, sharp and commanding, “Laren, you two-with me now.”

Rick is waiting for them just as they enter through the palace doors. He swiftly bows to Mora as she drifts by, scurrying to catch up to her while taking the position on her left, Laren on her right. The entourage make their way through the large tiled hallways until they come before a pair of grandiose, brightly colored doors at which two guards are stationed in front.

“Let us pass,” Rick says to the men.

“I am sorry sir, we have our orders that no one is to enter the royal hall,” one bravely replies.

When Rick and Laren both tense for a fight, Mora’s cold voice stills them all, “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, Queen Namora,” they reply in unison, both bowing.

“Good. Now move, or I will move you.”