The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

“I have a bath ready, Queen Namora and I shall help you out of your armor,” the old woman offers with her eyes downcast.

Not going to object, Mora follows her through the winding halls; by the time they reach the large double doors, she realizes that they are at the royal chambers, the room where she watched her father die not that long ago. In her absence, the entire room has been redecorated, all of the blue now gone and everything is decked out in red. She follows the old woman past the antechamber, a large room that contains a grand fireplace, a big desk and a seating area complete with a few couches and several plush chairs. Beyond that lies the bed chamber; the room is vast with a massive four poster bed now covered in red drapes of velvet set before a huge fireplace. There is a small vanity beyond the bed, adjacent to a large paneled screen that provides a changing area and covers the view of a door leading to a deep closet. On the other side of the room is a smaller door that leads into a private wash room; complete with a small fireplace, a majority of the room is occupied by a large dark wooden tub, big enough to fit two adults.

Mora stops just shy of the wash room, next to the large wooden case that her armor came from. She holds her arms out to the side, letting the old woman remove the intricate pieces of leather and chainmail until finally leaving her in the leather underclothes. Eunice eyes the hole in the chainmail pants and the matching hole that leads to the healed white skin of her thigh, “I shall call the royal doctor, Queen Namora. Is there anything else?”

“No, thank you,” she says softly, limping into the wash room.

She has to almost peel off the leather shirt and pants from her damp skin; Mora tries to ignore the sight of dirt, blood and bruises on the white flesh underneath. Instead, she painfully steps into the tub, sinking down into the warmth of the fragrant water, letting her body relax back. She knows if she puts it off, she will fall asleep so she quickly grabs a cloth and a bar of soap and washes her darkened skin, soaping up her long hair before she finally goes limp in the water and lets the tension of the past few days ease from her body.

Though she wishes to sleep, if even for a few minutes, her mind wanders. How many other secrets did her father keep from her? If a great man like him could have withheld such information, she starts to feel uneasy about what everyone else has hidden-Rick? Laren? Her mother? She never thought it possible before but she isn’t sure she can entirely trust anyone at this point.

A soft knock on the door causes her to open her eyes; Eunice stands there, waiting, with a towel and a fresh underdress in her arms. With a sigh, Mora rises and climbs out of the tub-Eunice lets out a pained cry upon seeing Mora’s bare bruised flesh. Ignoring it, Mora grabs the towel and hastily dries off before pulling the underdress on.

In the main ante chamber, the royal doctor waits nervously; he has only attended to the King before and there was never need for him to be of service to a sparsely dressed woman. Ignoring his prudence, Mora sits on the couch. The healer examines her hands, setting some broken fingers before wrapping them in a splint. Without reservation, Mora pulls her underdress off; the doctor’s face turns bright red but he does the best he can to tend to her cuts, carefully wrapping them. He apologizes that he can’t do anything to ease her broken ribs but suggests wrapping her torso in a large bandage, thinking the pressure should help. She does as he says and before long, he is gone.

Pulling the underdress back over her head, she prays Rick has the forethought to bring healing salves with him; while limping back to the bed chamber, she talks softly to Eunice, “I am going to rest for a while. I imagine later this afternoon, Prince Varickan from Sceadu will arrive. Please see to it that my old room is ready for him.”

“Prince Varickan?” Eunice repeats, surprised, “I had heard that you met him but…” She trails off, not wanting to say anything to upset the Queen.

Offering a small smile to her handmaid before she climbs into her bed, she replies, “Thank you, Eunice.”

The old woman bows slightly before hobbling out, pulling the door shut behind her.

Finally tucked within the safety of a bed, the comfort of the soft cushions and warm blanket pull her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Several hours later, Mora is awakened; her eyes open to see Eunice walking out of the closet with a long flowing red dress; she sets it on the edge of the bed, “Word was sent ahead to the castle, your Highness; Prince Varickan’s entourage just crossed into Derven land. They will be here in half an hour; I figured you would want to be ready.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she pushes the covers back, “Yes, thank you.” Mora doesn’t object when the old woman helps her dress, brushes out her long brown hair and affixes the tall copper crown on top.

Mora makes her way slowly through the castle, her body stiff and still painful, her right hand still wrapped in the cream muslin bandage. By the time she reaches the door and takes up a position at the top of the stairs, she can see the royal black carriage weaving its way into town. It surprises her-she would have thought Rick would come on horseback. Fleetingly, she hopes that Sheynne isn’t in the carriage as well, as she has no patience left to deal with the woman.

When it pulls closer, a smile crosses her lips; the carriage is manned by Lucas who appears small next to the massive frame of Eric. A horse trails behind, baring Sari. The black steeds come to a halt at the base of the steps; Eric jumps down and opens the door. Rick steps out, dressed head to toe in black. His polished boots reflect the failing afternoon light, pulled over his black slim pants; he wears a black shirt underneath a buttoned silk vest and over both a long black over coat. His golden blonde hair is elegantly brushed back behind his ears, the dark twisted metal branches of his crown gleans just above it. Though he glances around for a moment, once his eyes fall on Mora’s, they don’t leave.

She feels her heart beat faster, a soft smile touching her lips at the handsome man before her; while he ascends the stairs, she almost breathes a sigh of relief when Eric shuts the carriage door. Their three friends follow behind Rick, stopping once he reaches her. With a deep bow, he extends his hand; Mora places hers in it, her heart fluttering when he kisses the back, “It is good to be in your company once more, Queen Namora.” He rises, frowning when he see her bandaged hand, “I have some salve in my chest,” he offers.

She nods, motioning for a few servants; she requests rooms to be made for Eric, Sari and Lucas and for them to see to their things right away. Turning back towards the castle, she slips her arm into Rick’s when he offers it, “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

“Of course,” he replies, slightly glancing over his shoulder.

Mora turns and smiles at the three behind them, “All of you, that is.”

When they reach the small dining room, Captain Franklin and Officer Jackson are waiting for them outside; both men bow slightly. Franklin straightens up a little taller when his eyes flicker towards Sari, before he looks back at Mora. Knowing he shouldn’t speak in front of the guests, all he says is, “It is done.”

“Thank you, Franklin,” Mora replies, “Why don’t you and Jackson join us for dinner?”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

It is odd for Mora to sit at the head of the table, where her father always sat; Rick takes her old chair to the right, Franklin sitting to her left in Laren’s usual seat next to Jackson, with the others filling in the empty chairs. A massive feast is laid out before them. Rick takes small portions of meat and a few other things, but not much in general. Though it is the first time Mora has seen him eat real food, she can see the questioning looks of Franklin and Jackson as to why he doesn’t eat more.

“In a week, Prince Varickan and I will ride to Geofen,” she says casually to the table. “You are more than welcome to remain here in the mean time, Lucas, Eric and Sari.”

Lucas grins, “Thanks, Mo-I mean, Queen Namora.”

“Thank you,” Sari nods, also finding the title odd and cumbersome, “my Lady. I’m not sure if I will though, I was getting some odd looks from your townsfolk.”

Mora chuckles, “That’s because you’re in pants, Sari. Women in Derven are much more modest than in Sceadu. We never wear pants in the company of men; I’d be happy to have a dress brought for you.”

Sari’s eyes go wide, “A dress.”

Smirking, Mora continues, “Yes, a dress, but you must trust me-you will look wonderful in a dress.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

Sari keeps her mouth shut and purses her lips.

“This might be silly of me to ask, but perhaps you could explain a bit of Derven to us?” Eric says, glancing at her; his eyes linger on her face for a moment, before he looks away, “This place is far different than I imagined it would be.”

She nods in understanding, chewing on some vegetables while glancing to Franklin; he takes the cue and fills in as ambassador, something Laren usually handles, “The folk of Derven are quite different from the other countries. I suppose if you were to condense our essence down to just a few words, they would be: modest, hardworking, honest, selfless and stubborn.