Torin I

(Three days after the fall of the Trevelyan line.)

"Arise, my lord! Today is the big day!"

Curtains were drawn and light flooded the chamber. A groan came from the mass of furs and pillows upon the bed. Then, out from behind a shaggy black mane came a pale young face desperately raising hands to cover their light hazelnut eyes.

"Why do you torture me, Torig?" Groaned the pale boy. "What time is it?" He peeked through his hands and at the edge of his bed, stood his older brother, Torig.

Torig was a tall man, about nine years Torin's senior and bore the aqua eyes of their mother. He smiled down at Torin through a tight beard that clung to his face like moss to a tree. Unlike the younger brother that lay in bed before him, Torig's hair was a dark brown more in line with their fathers and he kept it forever short. Never allowing it to move a single hair past his brow. Even then it was uncomfortable for him. Torin always suspected it had something to do with his time in the Zandrinian military. The monarch at the time, King Markos Trevelyan mandated all soldiers bare hair only as long as a straight razor would allow. That same King Markos also issued each soldier Steel armor, bearing the Trevelyan house sigil. Torig had left that behind for quite some time and in recent times had been wearing the traditional uniforms of House Wykehem, plain iron armor held together by fur and straps. However that wasn't the case today. Torig wore Steel armor that the light shone off of, further blinding the just awakening Torin. Torig smiled down at him and crossed his arms.

"Well, brother. It is three hours to noon, we have allowed you all the time we could spare. But father requested I wake you personally. Wouldn't want to keep the man waiting on his coronation day would you?"

"What could the third born son of a usurper be needed for on the day of Coronation?" The boy sat up and stretched his arms toward the ceiling.

"Appearances, Torin. We're the royal family now. We must act like the royal family." Torig crossed his arms.

"The royal family were a bunch of bastards! That's why their heads decorate the walls!" Torin, still groggy, rose from the bed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Is there at least a bath ready?"

"Oh, of course there is, my lord." Torig gestured an exaggerated bow. "I've had one drawn especially for you!"

"You know, for someone who wants to embrace royalty you seem to be a real cunt about it!" Torin laughed and Torig returned the favor with a belly laugh as well.

"Well that's because you're you!" He laughed again and clapped Torin on the back, guiding him out of the bed chambers. " Let's go over the names the people have placed upon you, yes? Torin the tired! We have Torin the troubled! And let's not forget Torin Whoremonger! Quite the name I say myself. At the age of only eight and ten you've managed to gather a reputation of the most unroyal repute" he smiled wide. "And I wouldn't want you any other way, brother."

"You sure know how to make one feel loved, Torig. I absolutely must hear the conversations between you and your betrothed. If I am ever to secure a wife." Torin smirked.

"You? A wife? We'd sooner see a live Trevelyan walk through the gates, rutting a visage of the old empress herself!" A hearty laugh shot from Torig's mouth. 

The pair, now departed from Torin's Bedchamber, walked down the great halls of their newly acquired castle. The walls were adorned with countless flags, paintings and trophies alike. All collected over the years by the previous monarchs. The Trevelyans ruled this land for nearly 200 years, after they had overthrown the family before them. Now house Wykehem are the stewards of this land and nothing was more important than seeming legitimate to not just the common people, but to the lords and ladies of Zandrinia. After that the next order of business was to show the rulers of other kingdoms that the Wykehems were legitimate. A feat worthy of the new King, Reoman Wykehem, Torin and Torig's father.

The pair arrived after a brief walk and Torig stood by the door gesturing for Torin to enter.

"I'll be waiting for you in the armory with Master Dennett. Father wants us to be armor clad and weapon ready."

Torin looked confused "Is father expecting trouble? The majority of the people within these walls helped him take the throne."

"Yes, brother. But not everyone was so excited for father's ascension, as we. These first few months will be precarious and we must be vigilant." Torig grasped Torin's shoulder. "But don't worry about that now. Enjoy your bath and accept the fruits of our labor. They've been hard earned."

"Fruits of our-" Torin was gently pushed into the room and Torig closed the door behind him.

"I'll be sure your armor is spit shined to perfection! Now go! Get spit shined yourself!" A final message and another quaking laugh bellowed from Torig's lips. Despite the heavy wooden door, Torig's voice was clear as day. Unlike the view now before Torin's eyes.

Within the room, steam clouded much of the view. But through the steam Torin witnessed the grandeur of the bathing chamber. The bath was a large circle of marble perfectly cut into the flooring, which was also made of the same fine marble. Everything was bright white with accents of red and gold adorning the walls. The chandelier hung above the bath, glistening with rubies, diamonds and gold. As Torin approached the bath he could make out in the water, the house Trevelyan sigil. Three white roses upon a shield, dripping in blood. Then with a tilt of his head upwards there was something else to make out. Someone was already in his bath! Torin stepped closer and the figure rose to meet his gaze. Now, clear as day he could see her. An Elven woman stared back at him. She held a cloth between her hands and her dark red hair hung down to her lower back. Torins eyes danced about her, eyeing her figure. She was lean and soft, her lips were full and almost as red as her hair. She then bowed to him, closing her eyes. When they opened again they peered up to him, cutting through the steamy fog like an ethereal emerald knife. Torin's gaze met hers, he was stunned by her beauty. He opened his mouth with the intent to speak, but his mouth stood agape, no words would come as his eyes lowered to her chest to stare at her hanging breast's.

"Good morning, my lord. I am Sethrana."

"A good morning to you, my lady." Torin stepped forward cautiously while admiring the Elven beauty.

Sethrana giggled and ended her bow. "I am no lady, my lord. But I appreciate your kindness. I am here to accompany you for your bath. Lord Torig requested me, especially for you. Please, my lord I am rather lonely." She smiled coyly.

"Oh, is that your usual task around the castle? Do you bathe all of the lordlings?" Torin smirked and began removing the breeches he had fallen asleep in.

"Well, my lord, no. My being here is actually rather new. I was only brought into the castle mere days before your family took power." Her face looked down towards the bathwater for a moment then back up toward Torin. "You see, my lord I am a.. courtesan of sorts. I am trained by a local pleasure house to.. entice those of nobility. In hopes that I may sire a child. If that happens, I ascend to the noble house, as does the child. The house that assigned me then receives a stipend. That stipend from the crown goes a long way for the house, and the cycle continues if they are lucky. This was my intended use for King Trevelyan. But, it was widely known the King despised my kind. As he despised all not born human. I assume he only accepted days before the siege because he wanted an heir to avenge him. Alas, he never got to.. experience my training. As he was quite busy defending the city from your father."

"Ah, I see. So you have no love for your lost king?" Torin stripped down his loin cloth, exposing himself to the Elf.

In response to the welcome sight, Sethrana smiled wide, then shook her head. "No, my lord. I have no love for him or his family." She reached out her hand for him to take.

Torin took her hand and sauntered into the bath. Her hands were smooth as silk compared to Torin's which were tough and hard, for he had been gripping swords and shields for the past several months of the campaign to take the crown. She brought him in so their bare bodies pressed together and placed a light kiss upon his neck.

Torin pulled away slightly and looked into the elves hypnotic bright green eyes. "If you no love or loyalty for your previous rulers, what hope is their in love for the current?"

Sethrana's eyes pierced, then dismantled Torin. He melted in her hands like a block of ice beneath the Zandrinian sun. Then her lips moved to only centimeters away from his and a whisper crept from her lips.

"Make me your lady, my lord." She guided his hand to her stomach. "Let me give you the heir you deserve. If that doesn't give you my love and loyalty, what will?" her lips broke into a smile, then the pair of lips connected lustfully, deeply.