Baskadia

The wind’s icy fingers clawed through his garb as he hurried across the courtyard. He made great pains to avoid stepping in any of the freshly fallen snow. It just would not do to leave any tracks or evidence. Thankfully, the stones of the walkway had drank deeply of the sun’s warmth earlier that day, melting enough to leave a clear path. Looking about nervously, he took stock of the windows. All of the suites in the eastern wing of Falcon’s Roost were glowing warmly, as the many nobles housed there finished their nighttime routines before bed.
This is absolutely foolish! Grahm Easton admonished himself as he slipped into the western wing through a great oaken door marked with the King’s seal, a great silver falcon perched upon a broad-sword. The seal of the very King he had sworn sacred oaths to protect. The Royal Suites stood empty but for the King sitting in his den pouring over scrolls and the Princess in her chambers, likely reading for a bit before turning in. Both were highly predictable. The only resident of these halls that wasn’t predictable just so happened to be the person he was sneaking in to see, the Lady Tyrenna. She was a wild card, especially as of late.
His heart racing in his chest, he quickly made his way to the Lady’s chambers, double-checking to be sure none were watching, and quietly closed the door behind him. He went to the attached solar and found a tankard of wine and a pair of goblets sitting on the ornate table. He poured himself one of the goblets and sat. He pawed the goblet nervously, forgoing the calming drink inside. When he heard the door open, his veins filled with icy anxious fear. What am I doing? I’ll be hanged for this for sure, he pondered dreadfully.
Until recently, the beautiful Lady Tyrenna had taken little notice of him. To her, he was very likely just another guardsman. One among many. And strangely enough, the reverse could’ve been said. He’d never considered her as anything but handmaid to the Princess, another noble he was to protect. Sure he’d noticed the woman’s natural beauty before, you would have to be blind not to take note. But as of late, he felt drawn to her. It wasn’t love he felt, for he did love someone, but something almost foul and unbecoming. Never had lust taken him so. He almost felt like he was losing control due to it. Like that very moment. Had it been anyone other than the caramel-skinned embodiment of his desire coming through that door, he would be tried for treason and hanged before tomorrow’s noon meal.
She locked the door and gave him a demure smile. “I’m glad you decided to come.” She eyed him over hungrily, her dark eyes wild and alluring. He filled her goblet, and handed it to her as she sat across from him. Her silky plum-colored nightgown clung to her perfect form, and Grahm drank the lovely vision in as she drank her wine. The only imperfection being a set of finger-length bruises on her arm, just seeing them sent a vile heat through him.
“Did he hurt you?” Grahm asked, his face reddening with fury.
Seeing his anger made her strangely happy. He would never understand this woman. She smiled brightly. “I didn’t invite you here to cry on your shoulder.” She purred and reached over and started caressing his thigh. Her touch was like fire, and he grew immediately excited. When her hand made its way to his groin, he was throbbing with lust.

Without any thought, he stood up and swept Tyrenna into his arms and carried her over to the bed, kissing her plump rose petal lips. Her hands worked at his pants as he peppered her mostly bare shoulders and neck with passionate kisses. He gazed into Tyrenna’s mysterious dark eyes and suddenly they grew pale. Her skin grew pale too, but her hair darkened to pure black. Now she was no longer herself, now she was Robyn, his secret love. He pulled away confused. His heart suddenly winning the battle over his lust. “Gods…” He let out in shock.
Then the woman before him became the mischievous Tyrenna Swan again. She gave him a wounded look. “Oh stop being such a boor. I was only playing around.” She reached out and started stroking his manhood, and he was unable to retreat further, the lust back in control over him again.
Tyrenna Swan slid off the bed onto her knees before him, licking her full pouty lips. Soon she was licking the underside of his manhood, sending waves of pleasure through him. He reached down and grabbed a handful of her curly dark hair and guided her as she took him into her soft talented mouth. Her hands each worked around and clasped the cheeks of his arse and forced him deeper, pushing herself to her limits, nearly choking on him in her fervor.
In his mind he heard her voice, cheering him on. Harder. Play rough with me, I can handle it. And Grahm forced himself deeper, and pumped harder. And Tyrenna greedily gobbled every bit he could cram into her. Ready for more, he pulled her away brutally by her hair and ripped her nightgown off of her in one swift precise movement, then he threw her face down onto the bed. Before she could move, he mounted her. She was sopping wet when he slid deliciously into her. Soon his hands wrapped around her throat, choking her as he hammered her with powerful deep thrusts. Yes! She cried out euphorically in his mind as she spasmed with climax. When he started to slow, she admonished him, No! Keep going! And he obliged Tyrenna’s magical voice, bringing her to another shuddering orgasm as his own lusts overcame him.
Afterwards, the two spent lovers laid silently in each other’s arms for a long almost tender time. When the sweetness of the afterglow had faded, Grahm rose and began to dress. Tyrenna smiled up at him, her beautiful tan face full of momentary bliss. “When can you visit next?” She asked with a playful breathlessness, her voice somehow both sweet and sinful.
But Grahm had no answer. Part of him knew he shouldn’t have come. Knew this tryst would likely have dire consequences. It was treason to lay with the King’s paramour. He only offered a shrug, to which Tyrenna sighed. Then he left.
He made his way back to his quarters without incident, and laid awake nearly the whole night trying unsuccessfully to wipe the image of Tyrenna becoming Robyn from his tortured heartsick mind. And so it was that the next day when he was to escort Her Royal Highness he found himself imagining the Princess committing the same acts of passion with him as Tyrenna had the night prior.
Robyn was a soft-spoken delicate kind of lass. It was hard to imagine the pure sweet Princess doing any of the rough careless carnal stuff that Tyrenna was into. But still Grahm could see himself carrying her to their bed for lovemaking, and peppering her with kisses. So lost in these lusty ponderings he became that he nearly forgot himself and his duties. All that day he watched his Little Dove go about her usual daily routines with hungry eyes, drinking in her milky pale skin, reveling in her soft breathy voice, silently dreaming up scenarios of looking deep into those pale blue eyes as they made love. Long he had been guarding Robyn, and harboring feelings he knew she would never return. Now those feelings were brewing in a full boil.
The next day was much the same, Grahm found himself building fantasies of his forbidden love for the Princess, and that night he was visited by his forbidden lover, the Lady Tyrenna.
As he lie abed trying desperately to clear his mind enough to sleep, she quietly slipped into his room. When he sat up, she put one finger before her lips to signal him to stay silent. All she wore was a loose silken robe. It slipped off of her as easily as she slipped into his bed. He wanted to protest, to refuse her. He opened his mouth to voice some rejection, but stopped short when he found himself staring into Robyn’s eyes. “This is not fair.” He whispered.
Try as he might, Grahm couldn’t fight the urges or pass up the chance to live out those fantasies of making love to Robyn. And though he knew it was all false, he gave in anyways. It had been soft and sweet. Afterwards, Tyrenna’s glamour faded, but the hauntingly sad and beautiful look in her eyes never left. Long they laid in each other’s arms, and when it came time for Tyrenna to leave, she only did so begrudgingly.
Over the next few weeks, Grahm and Tyrenna’s torrid little affair started to grow into something more, and less and less did he daydream and fawn over Princess Robyn. But then the day of the King’s announcement came.

Throughout the last decade the eastern lands of the Falcon Realm had become uninhabitable. Some foul poison was spreading from the far east, over the mountains it had come and was eating away at the Kingdom of the Peregrini. Crops no longer took root in the soil, and the peoples there began to come down with a sickness often referred to as The Fade. In response King Daenar had called for a great wagon train to be built. In one year’s time they would evacuate the capital and begin a slow trek west to seek out a new home. Envoys had been sent to the Plainsfolk tribes and the Orchard Kingdom, and word was that the far northwest lay mostly empty. A green place free of plague where they could build anew.
Daenar held a great feast for all his leal subjects, sparing no expense. Offering many wondrous courses to eat and plenty of wine and harder stuff to drink. He’d spared no expense on entertainment either. Bringing in musicians and artisans from across the Realm, assuring there would be dancing, crafts, and games of all kinds. Every hall of Falcon’s Roost was alive with activity. It was a truly spectacular affair. It would go on to be widely known as The Last Feast, though many more were had before the castle was truly abandoned. But none were anywhere near the scope or magnitude of that evening’s event.
Now it would be remiss to continue this story without first speaking of the history between Robyn Peregrin and her sworn protector, Sir Grahm Easton. They were a few years apart, the Princess being closer to his younger brother Tarmen’s age. Grahm and Robyn had met when he had still been a squire for the renowned Royal Guardsman Sir Tobias Longfeather. Sir Toby had held the job of protecting Robyn since the heiress’s birth. Sadly, he was killed during Lord Swan’s insurrection whilst defending the King. Grahm, newly sworn in as a full-fledged Royal Guard himself, gave a grim sacred oath to his dying mentor and the King that he would continue to protect Robyn in Sir Toby’s stead, and Daenar had been more than happy to honor that pledge.
Robyn was then only sixteen and Grahm nearing twenty. Robyn by all accounts was a sheltered sweet noble girl whose beauty and grace was pure and natural. The first time Grahm had locked eyes with her, he had felt a connection, and saw in her an ethereal light. Though usually stoic and quiet, she was inquisitive and adventurous too. There were times when she would try to slip away to explore the world, and Grahm would have to find her. Oft times she would disguise herself in some of the servants’ garb and sneak down into the village to catch the mummers or some other entertainment. After a while it almost became a game for them. By Robyn’s next birthday, they had grown a rapport and she stopped sneaking off alone. Instead, he would go with her. Robyn had invented them false identities complete with backstories, and forged documents bearing her father’s seal. So it was that a fictitious Gar and Rosa Barnswallow attended many a play or performance, looking quite like a pair of average young newlyweds out enjoying some culture. And though it was all a farce, those nights at her side had been magical to Grahm. Spending time with her gave his life a new kind of meaning or purpose.
Yet somehow Tyrenna had cast some spell over him, filling his nights with sweet passion and his heart with a lust for more. Little by little replacing his secret fantasies about a future with Robyn for a future with Tyrenna. Whether it was real magic or truly a case of love, only time would tell.
The night before the announcement feast, a royal page came to Grahm’s quarters with a note sealed with light blue wax in the shape of a dove. Robyn’s mark. The page handed the note off and shuffled away without comment. Before Grahm had a chance to read the note, another quiet knock on his door announced the Lady Tyrenna’s arrival. He quickly stuffed the envelope away before answering.
She was wide eyed and stricken with shock when she entered. On a closer look, Grahm saw she had bruises all up and down her forearms. Defensive wounds. Before he could comment, she flung herself into his arms and quietly sobbed. He held her and stroked her hair, unsure what to say. That night they didn’t have sex, or even talk much. They just quietly laid together for a long while, then Tyrenna kissed him on the forehead and quietly left.
After Tyrenna was gone, Grahm opened the note from Robyn and it read;

My dearest knight,
My father has decreed that I must start accepting suitors.
“Come not to the feast without escort,” were his exact words.
I humbly request that you accompany me as both my

guardsman and as my escort. Proper ballroom attire only.
With Highest Regards,
Your Little Dove

Grahm read and reread the note a dozen times, his mind swirling. It was still quite hard to just toss away all thought of Tyrenna by that point. It hurt him to see the proud Lady so vulnerable, so defeated. Part of him cared deeply for both women, but in his deepest heart there was only one true love; Robyn. He had to take this chance to tell her his true feelings. With the choice made, he slipped into a rough dreamless sleep.
He woke up with the scent of Tyrenna’s perfume in his nose, and the memories of the night before came rushing back, bringing with them pangs of indecision and guilt. Grahm wondered just what the King had done to her, and his pulse quickened with anger. The thought of Daenar abusing his lover sent Grahm dangerously close to considering regicide.
Instead, he dressed himself in his sparring leathers and set out to the practice yard. There he could let out some of his fury and clear his head. Upon arriving, he found a sizable crowd of knights, squires, and onlookers. A pair of knights ferociously sparring in the center of the yard had everyone’s attention. It took Grahm little effort to deduce who the combatants were; One was a burly knight near eight foot tall and swung a broadsword, clearly that was the Haymaker, Sir Ronald Hay. The other was nearly the same height but lean and lanky-looking, cleverly wielding a bastard sword. That was Sir Avens Mort. Both men fought with a savage brutality fed by their mutual dislike of each other, and neither seemed to gain the upper hand. The fight went on until Lord Potter called it to a halt and declared the match a draw. To which both men protested with the same fervor they had fought with.
As the next sparring match began, Grahm felt a tap on his shoulder. It was one of the Royal pages, the same one who had delivered Robyn’s note. The boy cleared his throat and announced, “His Royal Highness has sent a summons for you, Sir Grahm. He awaits you in his solar.” He nodded absently in acknowledgement and followed the page to what was likely a death sentence.
Ice ran through Grahm’s veins. Does he know about Tyrenna? Or Robyn’s note? Oh Gods, this cannot be good. I am sure to be executed, he thought dreadfully. A sharp pang of nausea seated itself in the pit of his stomach. His bowels felt ready to evacuate any moment. Each step felt like a hammer of doom upon him. Despite himself, he made it to the King’s solar with his dignity intact.
The guardsman on duty stood stoic, giving off no clue on the King’s mood or plans. Sucking in a deep breath, he opened the door and entered, his mind and body tense. Strangely enough King Daenar stood and greeted Grahm with a smile as he presented himself.
“Hile, my Eagle Knight. I appreciate your swift response, Gods know I have much on my plate already. But that is neither here nor there.” The King eyed him over with a knowing smile. “Word of my daughter’s secret invitation came to me this morn as I broke my fast. It seems our rebellious Princess would like to thwart my intentions for her.” He waved his hand dismissively. “So be it. You will accompany her to tonight’s festivities. I personally had misgivings, but the Lady Tyrenna has persuaded me. She reminded me that you’ve been a steadfast protector of my daughter’s honor, and that is the only reason why I acquiesced.” The King leaned over his desk, his smile replaced with a look of grim caution.
Grahm cleared his throat nervously. The King’s unspoken threat not lost on him. “You honor me, Highness. I will abide my sacred oaths, as always.” He offered reassuringly.
The King’s smile returned, this time it even reached his eyes. “Another thing my sweet Tyrenna suggested comes to mind. It just will not do to have you escorting this nation’s future Queen in your current state. You will immediately report to my chamberlain. I have ordered him to see that you are properly prepared for this evening.”
“Many thanks, Your Highness.” Grahm responded meekly. He offered another respectful bow and then took leave of the King. The moment the chamber door closed behind Grahm a wave of relief washed over him.
King Daenar’s chamberlain was an odd fellow and a mystery to say the least. An aged plainsfolk man who was either widowed or unmarried, Kader Alin had come alone to Falcon’s Roost only a handful of years ago to offer his services to the Peregrini King. Grahm truly knew little about the man.
Upon arriving, Grahm was greeted by a pair of scantily clad bathers. One a tall tan-skinned plainsfolk strumpet with long raven-colored locks draping over her bare breasts, the other a pale-skinned lass peppered with freckles whose long lovely hair was the color of freshly struck copper. Both women bore friendly smiles for him.
“We’ve been expecting you, Sir Grahm. Come, we have a steaming tub waiting for you.” The redhead purred, then both women lead him into the wash room. They quickly and deftly removed his leathers and the garb underneath. He caught them share a brief smile after removing his trousers. Lusty wenches, he thought with a grin. They washed him most thoroughly, gave him a nice clean shave, and even trimmed his hair as he lounged in the water. Once he was considered properly clean, they led a nude and nervous Sir Grahm into an adjoining chamber decorated only with a round crimson bed. They pushed him onto it, and almost in unison began massaging and caressing him. He grew rock hard before either of them ever even touched his manhood, and when the copper-haired strumpet took him into her mouth, he lasted only a few short seconds before filling her mouth with his seed.
Thinking they were done with him, he tried to rise, but he had no strength. He collapsed to the bed, his head suddenly swimming in grey. It was then that the chamberlain spoke, “Rest, my friend. When you wake, I will have your doublet ready.” Then sleep hit him like a hammer, taking him instantly.
Grahm had strange dreams while under this sleep. Lucid ones that seemed more like memories. First he saw an awkward blonde teenage boy, a familiar one, though at the time Grahm couldn’t place a name to the face. The boy was at a joyous celebration, surrounded by people dancing, drinking, and carrying on. Out of the crowd walked a nervous yet graceful dark-haired girl with bright beautiful eyes. Robyn. Judging by the style of her hair, Grahm figured this was a few years ago. She looked radiant in her sky blue gown, and angel of blessing.
“Happy birthday Jayce. Thank you for inviting me to your party. Your sister informed me that if I wanted to dance with you, I’d have to ask.” Robyn sucked in a deep breath and pursed her lips with an almost grim determination. “So, may I have this dance?” Robyn offered her hand.
The boy’s face lit up. “Of course, Your Highness!” He replied with honest enthusiasm and led her onto the dance floor. As Grahm watched their dance unfold, he realized that this was a ball held at the Oldfinch’s estate. He himself was outside this very hall drinking with Sir Toby in the stables. Then the dance ended, and the boy gave his Princess a proper bow. Robyn blushed, and the two young nobles locked eyes. Then the image blurred, and the same two stood in similar poses. But there were some very major differences.
They were older, perhaps the age they were now. The boy was now a young man, a very handsome one. From the look on Robyn’s face it was clear she noticed this change as well, and appreciated it greatly. A pang of acidic jealousy boiled through Grahm’s veins.
“Thank you for the dance. It seems my escort has abandoned me.” Robyn told the blonde young man, and he nodded. Both had the starry eyes of young lovers, and the sight made a pit in Grahm’s stomach. “I was going to step outside for some fresh air. Care to join me?” Again the young man only nodded. As they made their way out of the hall it was hard not to notice a very interested blonde girl whose eyes followed them with a knowing smile on her fair young face.
Now the scene was the courtyard garden of Falcon’s Roost, and Robyn and Jayce were locked in each other’s arms kissing with all fervor and skill of people their age. Grahm woke angrily from the vision, and found himself still laying on the round crimson bed. The chamberlain greeted him with a thin smile, and then offered him a wine glass.
“You look like a man who has seen something awful and could use a drink.” He said with a bit of a grin. “I’m actually pretty impressed. Personally, if I saw the woman I loved falling for another man, if I knew she was destined to love another…” Kader shrugged almost sympathetically, then added in a conspiratorial tone, “I’d probably want to escape such a fate. Maybe even kill the guy.”
Grahm shook his head adamantly refusing both the drink and the notion of killing Jayce Goldfinch. “No, I love her. But I cannot kill him. It would dishonor my house. Besides, Robyn could never love me if I was a murderer.”
Kader nodded sagely, obviously pleased. “I thought you’d say that. That first bit is done, their first dance. But the second has yet to pass. That will happen tonight.”
Grahm shook his head, confused. “Where was I? Why did she say I abandoned her?”
Now the plainsman’s grin faded. “Take the drink. See for yourself. But I must warn you, it will not be pleasant.” He forced the wine glass into Grahm’s hand.
As soon as the taste hit his tongue, the next vision began. It started in the adjoining room with the tub. The Grahm there looked distraught, he was pacing back and forth muttering to himself about visions. The door opened and Tyrenna entered, her face puffy and swollen, tears flowing from her eyes. It was clear that the King had roughed her up again. She ran into Grahm’s arms and he held her as she sobbed. “I wish I was anywhere but here.” She croaked hoarsely through her tears.
The vision Grahm was plainly torn with indecision, but then he offered, “Let’s leave. Just you and I. My brother in Westbury can hide us away or we can go on to Gardener’s Seat. Or someplace south. I do not care where, as long as we’re together and you’re safe.” The Tyrenna in the vision looked almost shocked.
“Do you speak true? Is this what you really want?” She asked. And in that moment, both versions of Grahm Easton nodded. He did want that. More than he’d ever previously realized.
Now the vision changed again, moving to the stables in Grahm’s childhood home. His brothers Rhyen and Tarmen stood side by side in a dusky gloom, disappointment in their eyes as they watched Grahm and Tyrenna ride off. Tarmen shook his head with disgust. “You should have thrown him in a tower cell and sent the girl back to the King.”
Rhyen sighed. “King would’ve demanded his head. It’s better this way.” Then they closed the gate.
The vision grew blurry and Grahm found himself sitting with the empty wine glass in his hand. The chamberlain smiled at him, seeing he was back to reality.
“Who are you?” Grahm asked.
“Who I am is irrelevant. What is relevant is the choice you have before you. One sweet forbidden fruit or the other.” Kader’s cold thin smile stretched wide across his ageless face. “Would you like to see what happens if you break paths with fate? If you stay and attend tonight’s festivities?”
Grahm nodded almost numbly. Kader took the empty glass and refilled it, the wine red as blood, though it was sweet and flowery to taste. Again the vision came on almost instantly, taking him to a balcony where another version of him stood with Robyn. They were sharing a bottle of liquor and rehashing their anonymous adventures among the commonfolk. Both had a gleam of love in their eyes.

A love she will never be able to return, Grahm thought miserably.
Don’t be so sure, the voice of Kader Alin advised. Then the setting changed to a roadside orchard, he and Robyn sat by a small campfire huddled close under a travel cloak. As the scene grew closer, Grahm saw they were kissing. His heart leapt into his throat. And the vision faded, leaving him back in Falcon’s Roost with the mysterious Royal Chamberlain.
“That night by the Orchard Road is still a long way off, but I can assure you it is just the beginning. You will spend eternity in the light of each other’s love. All you need to do is call a healer for Tyrenna when she arrives and continue to honor your sacred oaths. So Eagle Knight, whom do you choose?” Kader asked with a raised eyebrow.
Grahm sighed and rose. His mind was made up from the moment he saw Robyn kissing him in the vision. Gods help me, he thought as he headed out to the adjoining room to set his fate into motion.