Rune and Ruin

Seeds of the Gods - 29 - Blooms

395 B.C.E. - The Hatchery of Lords, City of Rune, Capital of the Tasuri, Center of the Tasurian Peninsula, Early Summer, Month of Quintilis

From The Memory of Tems Aquillus Runion, High Lord of Rune

Tems wasn't certain what kept drawing him back to this dead place. Maybe it was some fatalistic desire to remind him of the fate of his people and city. More likely, the terrifying juxtaposition of the hatchery, soaring high to the stars, yet filled with death as if steeped in the grey Underworld, was the pull back to this place of horror.

Taking a deep breath, he knelt next to the nest of his House, staring with black eyes at the forlorn emptiness of the fire chamber under the thick slab of stone. When he laid his hand inside, he felt that the cold in the air was somehow sharper, biting through his scales and making his demon hiss and sneer.

The entire hatchery was abandoned. Tems had heard, earlier that day, that the Amulius House had emptied their nest and removed their guards. They were the last noble family of Rune to stay in the Hatchery. Now, the place was nothing more than the empty husks of a Tasuri womb. Fitting, thought Tems.

He stood up, his demon agitated, and began to stalk through the silent mausoleum. He retraced the steps he had taken before, to the storage rooms under the Hatchery. Inside, his steps ground to a halt.

The room was empty. Not a single broken, dead, or fractured egg remained.

Bewildered, Tems rushed into the room, looking at the empty shelves, searching the cracks and crevices for any signs of what was in this room only a little while ago. There was nothing. Not a single remnant of shell or a drop of thick, tar-like mucus.

He should be relieved, but the emptiness was ominous. Were no hatchlings or eggs left in Rune, or had the noble families hidden their nests away from this desolate place? What happened to the dead eggs? If they were destroyed, then how would the scholars' studies continue?

Leaving the hatchery, Tems rushed through the streets toward the House of Amulius. Halfway there, he realized his folly. The Amuliun was not his friend and would never welcome him showing up unannounced and uninvited. Instead, Tems turned his attention to another nearby House: Cisculus. They had left the hatchery a half year ago.

Tems demanded entry from the guards at the House's gate. Either due to his position or because he was once friends with Simon, the second son of the House, Tems was allowed entry with no trouble. Despite that, it felt like an age before Simon came to greet him.

"Lord Tems?" Simon, his face ravaged with grief, questioned him quietly.

"Simon," Tems bluntly asked, "has any egg in your House survived this past month?"

"Month?" Simon rasped. He shook his head, his sorrow palpable. "We have not had an egg in a year and a hatchling in much longer. My brother-" He cut off his words, his jaw tensed. "His bonded wife died a year past. My own does not ripen. House Cisculus is dead, my lord."

Tems sucked in a deep breath. He wished to ask more questions, to pound on the doors of every noble House and demand answers, to stalk to the Rotunda and rage at the Senate for not telling the populace how bad the plague had become.

Instead, he turned and left, hardly bothering to say goodbye. Outside in the street, Tems felt lost, his demon enraged.

He needed life. He needed a reminder that not everything was lost. He should find a whore to fuck, but Tems wasn't in the mood for the drinking and false merriment that accompanied that choice. Turning east, he headed toward the third hill of Rune, to the villa of the Warlord.

—

Falx was fucking his pretty bedslave again. The terrifying Warlord, too muscle-bound and scarred to be anything but a beast, lounged on the lectus in his bedroom, his clawed hands grasping her slim hips as she rode him slowly.

Tems supposed it was their bedroom, since clearly she slept in the Warlord's bed every night. She had no bed other than the Warlord's. Here was the life Tems sought, in her flushed, pretty skin, the faint dusting of gold on her skin glowing in the torchlight, her pretty pink lips parted softly as she pleased her master.

"My father keeps trying to leave Ardea and return to Rune," Falx muttered lazily, his eyes, dully glowing red, fixed on his female's face.

"He will never easily give up his spot on the Senate," Tems replied, his gaze straying to the slave's perfect face as her eyes drifted closed sleepily, then down her perky, pretty tits jiggling, and further, to her stomach, no longer as thin and concave as it had been a month ago, and finally, to the place where his friend had her pink pussy lips stretched wide over his cock.

"Keep riding me, love," the Warlord crooned. He treated the Acera female as a hatchling with a favorite toy. Tems wasn't certain Falx even wanted to spend his seed. He hypothesized the Warlord just wanted to keep his cock warm and snug in his favorite game of hideaway.

Sure enough, the Warlord gave up a moment later, pulling his female close to his chest so she lay across him, her head of long, gorgeous red hair spilling over scarred, scaled muscle. By habit, Falx tangled his claws in her hair, holding her close, his other hand stroking soothingly down her back and over the curve of her bottom.

Tems eyed them with what he admitted was jealousy. He had known the Warlord of Rune for years. They had grown from hatchlings together, and he had never seen Falx so relaxed and content as he was with his bedslave.

"Thirsty?" the Warlord murmured to her. "Yesterday your head ached, love. Drink for me." He held a cup to her lips. One grey eye cracked open. If Tems were a gambler, he would claim she glared at her master before obediently drinking a few sips. "Good female," the Warlord praised. With a soft sigh, the bedslave closed her eyes again.

"She is healthier," Tems observed, staring at her tiny asshole, obscenely close to his friend's thick cock. Standing, he drifted over to the couple, drawn like a moth to a flame. Ignoring Falx's warning glare, Tems brushed his fingers down the curve of her ass, circling the small hole there, before pulling away. Her skin was warm. She was beautiful.

"I've only fucked her there a couple of times," Falx offered with a lazy grin. "She's too small for that. Aren't you, love?"

The bedslave tensed under Tems hand but relaxed again when Falx covered her ass with his hand, effectively blocking Tems's access to her. "Couldn't take more than a half hands-length," he explained.

So, that opportunity was not a possibility, and the noble knew his friend would never share his bedslave's warm cunt. Tems heaved a sigh and returned to slouch down in his chair. Hours passed in silence before the Lord broke it. "Your father will use your army to force the Senate's hand."

"He will try," amended the Warlord. He still held his bedslave close to his chest, content to let her use him as her bed as she slept.

"My cousin will hurt her if given half a chance," Tems said quietly, with a nod at the female. Where had his cousin taken the eggs? How were they disposed of without a single soul in Rune aware?

Eyes of Fyrrin blue showed deadly red in the gloom. "He will never touch a hair on her head," came the quiet, resolute reply.