Hexe - The Great Exodus

[CH. 0015] - The Uncrowded King

Green Mother, full of grace, blessed your Spirit among the blood of Tree, the blood of Sea and the Blood of Sky and blessed is the fruit of your womb, the Seed. Holy Mother, pray for us sinners, now and protect us from the hour of our crimson death. Mir aceito es fado. —Prayer to the Green Mother

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Jear's breaths came in heavy gasps, creating a rhythmic symphony of exhaustion and contentment. Finnegan, an epitome of grace even in the most mundane of moments, slid from the tangled sheet of their bed to fetch a cup of water. As the morning light danced across his pale, bare, sweated skin, he allowed a silk robe to drape across one shoulder, an afterthought to modesty.

With an absent-mindedness born of distraction, the Elven King brought the chalice to his lips, his gaze not on the water but lost somewhere in the middle distance. Jear, meanwhile, turned over, his own gaze obscured as he buried his face into the cool expanse of the pillow, seeking refuge from the thoughts that pursued him.

They had remained secluded in that room for days, the air heavy with the lingering scent of sex. Neither the tiefling nor the elf found the willpower to part ways. Since their first meeting, there had been an undeniable pull between them, a connection so intense that they found it impossible to let go of each other. Thoughts that spoke louder than intended between them.

"Please tell me you're not brooding over him again," Finnegan's voice was a teasing lilt, a delicate thread of amusement weaving through the air, but still, he rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to be a little jealous, you know."

Jear's response was muffled by the pillow before he lifted his head, eyes casting about for the elf. "It's been two weeks," he muttered, the weight of each hour apart settling like lead in his chest.

The Elven King let out a soft chuckle, returning to the bedside. "Only a couple more to go, my dear. I fail to see your conundrum. He lives, and before long, you will both traverse back to that wretched human territory. And it gives us plenty of time to entertain ourselves."

"It's a settlement," Jear corrected, propping himself up on his elbows, defiance igniting in his tone.

"What?"

"The wretched territory is a settlement," Jaer corrected him, again.

"A monstrosity," Finnegan said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I cannot fathom why you insist on meddling with the Menschen and humans!"

Jear sat up straight, his back a rigid line of tension. "You do realize I'm one of the Menschen," he said, the words edged with a sharpness that betrayed his affront.

The corners of Finnegan's mouth curled into an affectionate smirk as he stepped closer, his hand tenderly coaxing Jear's chin upward. "No, my dear, you are an enigma cloaked in the guise of perfection, and your blood runs a shade of pretty unlike any I've ever seen. But that is what it is, pretty."

Jear felt the urge to pull away, to preserve a shred of indignation, but the elf's lips captured his in an unspoken promise, a seduction that made words superfluous. "Come with me," Finnegan whispered against his mouth, an invitation that was both a balm and a bind. "Jaer, come with me to Pollux."

It was not the first time the Elven King, Finnegan Berdorf, had extended to his lover to forsake the world beyond and stay ensconced in the splendour of his Pollux Palace.

The air between Jear and Finnegan crackled, charged with a tension that seemed to tug at the very fabric of the room. Jear's eyes held a storm brewing. "You know I can't," he said.