War of Hearts

02 - Water Brothers

The early rays of the dusk glistened on the metallic roof of the water train carriage when it peaked from under the calm ocean surface, making the frosty blue paint glimmer as if it was made of glaciers. Six water unicorns bound to the train with magical ropes led it, the faint gold in their aquamarine manes and fins on their legs casting patterns that danced with the setting sun. The train itself was as unique as the creatures that pulled it, made of a material harder than iron that could withstand the pressures of the deep ocean, painted in various shades of blue and adorned with silver. In shape, it was like any normal train carriage, but without the wheels, which were replaced by buoyant slides that helped the streamlined shape of the vehicle to cut through currents with immense speed. As everything in Angelic was, the water trains were enchanted with heavenly blessing as not to be damaged by the harshness of the sea.

There were four windows in each side in this particular carriage, with glamorous seats near each of them. Within this carriage travelled three brothers.    

Zarak was perched on one of the extravagant wooden seats, drowning himself within the pages of the Julian Roosevelt novel that he was reading. His black hair flowed as sweetly as Julian Roosevelt’s ink and quill, heavily contrasting with the soft paleness of his face. It was ironic how this angel was the princely dream of many a woman in the land of water, yet only one damsel had managed to capture his prudent heart, and she laid within heavy leather-bound novels. No one dared to speak to him, nor did he want them to. He preferred the soltitude of written adventure to the everyday hassle of reality.

The water angel was dressed in his royal attire, with am Aegean blue robe fastened with a silver chain adorning his shoulders, covering his white undershirt and vest, held at the waist by a thick belt made of the scales of a deep-water grevian fish, a priced animal for its glimmering scales. His long legs were covered by black breeches, with obsidian boots protecting his feet. He wore no jewels on his being except a pocket watch, hidden under the flowing robe. On his neck was the famous water tattoo of the royals, a swirl of a whirlpool centered on two water unicorns looking face to face, with their horns crossed.

Anakim, the youngest of the Waters, had his legs crossed over each other and his arms across his chest, his ocean blue eyes fixed on Zarak. The three Water brother were so such alike like all Angel children, carrying their signature black hair, tall skinny bodies and ocean blue eyes. One would think they were twins, but the brothers all had a certain uniqueness to their appearance, such as Anakim’s somewhat full cheeks that contrasted with Zarak’s high cheekbones. Some said Anakim was a younger Zarak, lacking all his signature coldness. Simply said, if Zarak was ice, Anakim was a seaside pool, warmed by the light rays of the sun, open and inviting.

“We'll reach the Capital in an hour,” Anakim announced, trying to get Zarak's attention.

As always, Zarak was still, his eyes on the book.

“Zarak,” Anakim leaned forward and whispered, “You'll have to get married to an Angel Princess in the Capital.” 

Zarak raised his eyes from the book to see his brother’s little smirk. However, they left his face as soon as they found it, once again fastening onto the words of his book without any acknowledgement.

“Your worst nightmare is going to come to life in there,” Anakim continued, trying his best to get his brother's attention back onto him.

The stoic prince paid him no mind.

There were two carriages in this particular train, and in the one behind the first, matters were getting awfully heated.

Moon pale breasts spilled out of a maiden’s golden laced brassiere as Michael Angelo Water unhooked it, his long fingers gliding over the metal to discard it with talent. Her mouth opened in a lusty moan as his heated eyes took her in, the hunger in them creating a storm in her mind.

Her nipples pebbled as he bushed the pads of his fingers on them, browner than chocolate with tan areolar that clashed vivaciously against the milky skin surrounding it. They were meant to be worshiped upon. The Water prince’s mouth latched onto them, plump lips blessing them with kisses and suckles.

Erana was under his mercy, her mind leaving her being with each lap of his tongue. With one hand, he held her, a vice like grip around her waist. The other endeavored the warmth of her body, gliding over the moistened petals.

"Michael." Erana whispered. The male only smiled as he abandoned her breasts for her lips. His hands finally shed her dress pooling around her ankles, and she stood like the very epitome of a goddess.

The water prince left her there, his eyes never leaving her, as silent as the wind. Taking an already opened bottle of wine, he poured himself a cup.

Erana purred his name yet again, “Oh, Michael.”

He stalked back to her, his glass full with the cherry colored liquid. Without a word, he spilled it on her bosom. Erana hissed from the coldness of it, bracing herself on the back of a chair.

But before they could go on, a loud bang echoed through the carriage. Michael raised his head to see his younger brother Anakim at the door, flushed a deep scarlet, panting.

"Gods, Erana, your husband is looking for you!"

The older Water sighed.

“I suppose our time is up.” In a fluid motion, he picked the discarded dress and handed it to his lover.

Anakim immediately turned his back as she grumbled, fastening the offending clothes around her, imitating a tomato. Michael was sure he wasn’t going to hear the end of this one.

"How long will it take to reach the Capital?" Michael asked, pouring another cup of wine.

"Just an hour," Anakim squeaked, still turned.

“You can look now, darling,” Said Erana, taking pity on the boy.

Michael walked towards his blushing brother and handed him the cup. The younger Water made a move to chug it, but then frowned over the rim at his brother.

“I sincerely hope the only fluid this cup touched is wine.” He muttered.

Michael rolled his eyes, “You didn’t let us get to that part.”

Frowning, Anakim sipped at the liquid, his pants diminishing.

Erana came in between them, dressed, and with her hair was tied up in a bun. She paid the younger boy no mind and sidled into her lover.

Michael placed his hands on her hips, "Even the most expensive dresses look like rags next to your God-given beauty.”

“I prefer it that way,” She smiled back, gliding her fingers down his jaw, “It’s more enjoyable as well.”

Erana moved her fingers through Michael's hair and placed her lips on his burning ones. They kissed as if it was the last time they would ever get to kiss each other.

Anakim made retching sounds.

“Can you please dial it down?” He muttered, “I don’t need more nightmare fodder.”

“So dramatic,” Michael scoffed as Erana slipped away to the other carriage.

"I am dramatic? Michael, out of all the women in the kingdom, you’re shagging a married woman!" exclaimed Anakim, “If that isn’t an invitation for disaster, I don’t know what is.”

"So what? She's hot." Michael smirked.

“What part of married don’t you understand? Why can’t you just find someone without a husband for a change? Must you be such a player?”

Michael laughed out loud, slinging his arm around his brother, making the younger one squeal.

“Oh god, you smell like sex, ew!”

Michael cupped the thoroughly unimpressed Anakim's face with his hands, "Oh sweet little brother of mine, never change. You’re too precious for words."

"Shut up,” Anakim grumbled, escaping from his hold, “And calm down for Star’s sake, we’re going to a royal ceremony!”