This Is Not a Fairy Tale

This is Not a Fairy Tale
by Em

Story Notes

Author contact: emzmit@hotmail.com

Summary: Against the backdrop of events following The Shades of Time and Memory, two long separated hara find their own way of reconnecting.

Characters: Ashmael, Vaysh, Cal, Pellaz, Loki

Spoilers: Up to and including The Shades of Time and Memory.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer; All items contained on these pages are non-profit amateur fiction. The Wraeththu novels and all characters named in those books are the copyright of Storm Constantine and her publishers.
No infringement on the copyrights is intended

Prologue

A door slammed and a body was shoved roughly against it. Inside the small room two hara embraced frantically, pressing closer even than the limited space required. Hands slid across silk and exposed skin, caressing, gripping; fingers digging in sharply. Breath mingled, blending as lips pressed together seeking to taste and consume one another.

The taller of the two lifted the other against him and was rewarded with slim legs encircling his hips. He paused for a moment, enjoying the sound of his companion’s heavy breathing. He caught the other’s lips again before he thrust strongly, joining them.

The smaller har wrenched his mouth free, arching his back and crying out at the familiar feeling. They shared breath again, quickly lost in the taste of each other and the heady experience of aruna.

Their unions were always like this – fast, intense and normally enclosed and hidden; away from prying eyes. Though neither would admit it, or perhaps even noticed, the dark rooms they chose to meet in shielded their aruna even from their own eyes.

Hair was gripped in blissful fists and sharp teeth dug into a shoulder, immediately soothed by the sweep of a tongue. The tiny room, nothing more than a storage closet, was soon filled with the sounds of their bodies moving against one another and their soft cries of pleasure.

All too soon both of them felt the tingle of their impending release. The smaller gripped his partner tighter with both arms and legs, rocking against the other. He bit his lip in a futile effort to stifle his cry when he felt the ouana tongue bite deep inside, sending him over the edge.

Then all sense of anything was replaced with the overwhelming wave of pleasure. The taller har slammed his fist into the wall beside his partner’s head, but the other didn’t even hear it, lost as he was in his own ecstasy. Just before the sensations died down they shared breath again, instinctively seeking to draw it out.

As the waves receded, they lapped at each other’s mouths, eyes shut. The taller stroked the other’s face, almost tenderly. Eventually, as if waking up after a long sleep their ministrations slowed and faltered. Eye contact was made and the embrace was released. The smaller har slid back onto his feet.

Clothes were straightened, hair smoothed.

The taller har took a deep breath, pausing for a second, one hand on the door handle, as if to say something. Instead he gave a brief smile before opening the door and disappearing through it. The door closed with a soft click leaving the second har in darkness.

A muffled voice came through the thick wood –  “Ashmael! I’ve been looking for you…”- then faded.

The smaller har stood silently for a moment, catching his breath, restoring his resolve. He shut his eyes for a moment, willing for the sting he felt in them to ease and ran his fingers across his flushed cheeks. Then he set his shoulders and swiftly exited the small room, emerging into a shadowed and rarely used corridor.

His footsteps were light and even as he made his way back to the more populated area of the palace.  Long robes swept against the polished marble floor and the har deliberately avoided making eye contact with the hara he passed as he entered the busier area.

Suddenly a voice stopped him.

“Vaysh! Where have you been?”

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The Seducements of Chaos and Order

The Seducements of Chaos and Order
by Tessa

Story Notes

Editor\'s PickDisclaimer: All characters, the universe and concepts belong exclusively to Storm Constantine. I receive no profit and no gain from this amateur story. No harm is intended in any way.

Rating: NC17 – For adult themes and m/m content. Profanity. Violence. Rape. Please be warned. If you are under age in your area, or this subject matter offends you, please press the ‘delete’ key now.

Credits: Warmest thanks to Storm Constantine for creating these wonderful novels and characters.

Author: Tessa (tessa_5000@yahoo.com)

Please Enjoy.

The Seducements of Chaos and Order.

Chapter One.

The Present

Straightening his silken collar, Calanthe cast an apprehensive glance over at his son. Jaden.

Jaden was just over seven now, and he was about to go through his formal Feybraiha Celebration, which would mark him as a Har. Would mark him as an adult. And for some reason it was making Cal nervous. He released a breath, moving to stand in front of the long wall mirror. Its reflection only mirrored the concealed ache – confusion and pain in his soul. The knowledge that …

So much had happened in the last seven years, most of it good, but some he wished he could erase the memories completely. Forever.

It had now been almost eight and a half years since his whirlwind arrival in Immanion: since his confrontation with Thiede, and his transformation to Tigron with his heart’s desire, Pellaz.

Almost a life time ago.

So much had happened, and he could look back on the early memories now with pleasure, remembering how awkward and unreasonable both he and Pellaz had been during his first year in Phaonica. Initially they had accepted each other, not really knowing if their dreams of love were still valid, which ultimately had led to arguments. Yet as Tigron there had been no doubt of their unity, of their strength and power. Neither could deny the rightness of what Thiede had attempted, just his methods. And as a whole the Wraeththu nation had, and was still, benefiting.

Yet personally, he and Pellaz had lost their way. Thinking about it now brought a half smile to Calanthe’s lips, and he looked at himself in the mirror again.

Vividly, he recalled how things had gone wrong, how they had fought and argued privately, neither wanting to concede. It had amazed him as to how contorted Pellaz’ view of his life had been. How twisted the other’s memories had become. How well Thiede had manipulated them both so that when they finally did reunite, the dream had faded and bitterness had blossomed. He had moved out of the Tigron’s official rooms and into his own suite within the first month. The Hegemony had breathed a collective sigh of relief with his move, just as sick as he was of their private bickering. He just could not reconcile the image he had of his Pellaz with the creature who inhabited the body he desired. Pellaz’ cold, business-like attitude and finely perfected art of manipulation had initially horrified him until he forced himself to look under the facade. He found shock… Pure and simple shock at being faced with the past, and being given the unobtainable had devastated Pellaz’ exquisitely honed sensibilities.

It had taken them both a while to come to terms with everything that had happened, initially forcing them to remain apart. Ashmael had delighted in the change and seized upon him to tour in order to reinforce the new rulership changes. Ashmael and Arahal. Those two Hara seemed to be always working toward some hidden agenda which neither he nor Pellaz were privy to, and it had not taken him long back then to learn how to sidestep the strategist and exert his own control.

And of course, inevitably to add to the confusion already crowding his life, Tyson had arrived in Immanion to search out his Hostling. Even now Cal found himself cringing in memory as he looked around for a cigarette. Lighting it, he sucked in a deep breath, obscuring his image in the long mirror as he exhaled.

Tyson. His son to Tersian. A Harling he had consented to have for purely selfish reasons. Because Tersian wanted it so badly… Because Cobweb feared it so badly… Because he no longer cared.

Caeru, predictably, had had hysterics, feeling threatened by this new arrival. He had not felt too comfortable himself about Tyson’s presence, yet…. Yet it was Pellaz who had taken a perverse delight in the chaos created by the pure-born’s visitation. And that was only because Caeru had bitched to him about the Parasiel Har, making him curious. From there things had degenerated as Pellaz deliberately charmed his son. But what had started out harmlessly as another personal dig at him by Pellaz had turned out affecting them both more than either cared to acknowledge.

Just another spark in their privately created hell.

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The Entrapments of Passion and Pride

The Entrapments of Passion and Pride
by Tessa

Story Notes

Editor\'s PickAuthor contact: Tessa Rae tessa_5000@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: All characters, the universe and concepts belong exclusively to Storm Constantine. I receive no profit and no gain from this amateur story. No harm is intended in any way.

Rating: NC17 – For adult themes and m/m content. Profanity. Violence. Please be warned. If you are under age in your area, or this subject matter offends you, please press the ‘delete’ key now.

Note – this story was written before ‘Seducements of Chaos andOrder’ – and is more light-hearted, and silly Sap alert -huge SAP alert, so please be warned.

Warmest thanks to Storm Constantine for creating these wonderful novels and characters.

Please Enjoy.

Additional Note from Web Site Editor:
Despite the “sap alert” given by the author, this story contains some very disturbing content, including violence and torture.

CHAPTER ONE

There’s an orchestra of voices trapped inside of me,
With a storm approaching both of us spilling out blinding voltages of memory,
And I am reaching out, hunting out and digging up every skeleton in front of me.

BCO.

Calanthe woke as the cool breeze caressed all the way down his barely covered side. The large, high ceilinged room was airy and touched with a faint chill as Cal blinked sleepily up at the muslin canopy of the sumptuous four poster bed.

The large glass doors had been opened, probably by the over attentive Attica or Cleis, the identical twins who serviced the Tigron’s rooms. Cal could never keep their identities separate when they fussed around his dark counterpart.

The cool breeze feathered across his chilling skin a second time as the silk curtains moved sluggishly in the westerly wind. The doors faced the sea and the only disadvantage Cal could find with these rooms had been that the morning sun never touched them. Just another flaw in the greatly overrated Phaonica.

Flexing his spine and wriggling his toes, Cal stretched his chin up as he contemplated the dark muslin. Lying with his arms over his head in his customary position, he suppressed the exhaled sigh of regret and growing frustration as he thought about last night. They could – no should – have so much, yet in some ways now they were further apart emotionally than what they had been six months ago.

Thinking about it, he scowled. The last six months had moved so fast and he had learned so much. His confrontation with Thiede had resulted in him becoming Tigron with the illustrious Pellaz, and Thiede becoming the Aghama he had always subconsciously craved. His coronation had followed immediately and the Gelaming had accepted him wholeheartedly, pushing Pellaz at him as if on a plate.

Theoretically it was perfect, and the Wraeththu, as a young nation would ultimately benefit from their union, but intimately and emotionally. Cal pulled a face at the thought, shunning it.

As a unit they worked as one, hand in glove, perfecting their spiritual communions until he had mastered the channels of power so now they flowed as easily as breathing. Even Caeru, Pellaz’s headstrong Tigrina, had succumbed to his charms, accepting his place next to Pell and bending to the Aghama’s will.

The problem lay in their personal lives, and Cal tried to view the trouble through unbiased eyes. Pellaz was his soul mate, as he was Pell’s. They both knew it, yet when he looked at Pellaz he still sometimes saw a Har he didn’t know and worse, didn’t want to know. It was as if a monster inhabited the mind and body of the Har he loved and desired. It was confusing and he didn’t miss the hurt that washed through the large, dark eyes as he turned away again and again, unable to cope with the suffocating surge of power Pellaz aimed at him. It disorientated and scared him. Scared him shitless if he was honest, so that he ran, choosing to lose himself in another’s arms. Hoping to avoid the painful memories and images of what they had – could still have – if only they lowered their barriers to each other. Barriers that had become like forged steel.

If Pellaz was possibly having the same trouble with him, Cal was unaware of it. Yet his counterpart seemed to go out of his way to make life for them both difficult at best, or an unbearable hell at worst. They argued over little inconsequential things, and Pellaz would always go on the defensive as soon as he appeared. It was unnerving and always guarantied to infuriate him and their verbal arguments would escalate. Then the backlash of mental anger would cripple him. What it did to Pell he didn’t know, but the amount of damage they could do to each other was phenomenal as they were permanently locked soul to soul. Desired – and hated.

Lying in bed as he was, Cal shuddered at the thought. Last night had been a perfect example of the potential danger. What the bickering had originally started over he didn’t know, except Caeru had walked out on them both in disgust. Pell had then retreated to his bedrooms, sulking and studiously ignoring him and that had angered Cal further.

He had then brooded for the next couple of hours, allowing the anger to eat at him until he couldn’t have stopped his actions if he had tried. The air between them, as he entered Pellaz’s bed chamber, had been electrically charged and both house Hara had vanished. Pell had been sprawled on the bed, sensually appealing and half drunk, hiding behind a facade of indifference. Cal’s control had snapped. They were killing each other emotionally, and it hurt. Hurt painfully.

Cal sat up in bed abruptly, fists clenching at his side as he banked down on the deep seated pain. They needed each other. It was as simple as that. His body itched to touch and meet Pellaz’s and the physical ache built each time they saw each other. Why Pellaz denied the need, he couldn’t guess.

At the twisting knife-like pain in his center, Cal screwed his eyes shut and bent his legs up, taking large gulps of breath. Did Pellaz feel like this? He wondered. Or was it only him? Did Pellaz even care that they were destroying each other slowly?

Shaking his blonde head, he looked at the bed next to him. The silk sheets were cold now, but last night they had embraced them both. Pleasure and pain. And the nightmares returned.

Having been unable to hold back the driving need any longer, he had entered Pellaz’s bed chamber knowing his dark haired lover was awake. Not saying anything, he had slid beneath the sheets, blocking the mental waves of anger that had hit him from his silent bed mate. They’d embraced, and if there had been anything else coming from Pellaz he had ignored it, as their coupling had become urgent and brutal.

It was not what he wanted from Pellaz, not what he needed or desired. But the mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion, was bone deep and Cal’s instincts had taken over, knowing and finding what he needed and taking it.

That Pellaz was nowhere to be seen this morning was mute testimony to the fact that they were still poles apart in understanding.

“Would you like to dress before breakfast or after my Lord?”

The quiet hushed voice startled Cal and his head snapped up. One of Pellaz’s house Hara stood nervously at the side of the bed. He had to suppress a grim smile as the little, blonde Gelaming took an instinctive step back. If it was Attica or Cleis he couldn’t tell, didn’t care really as he took a deep breath. He wondered absently if he looked as haggard and drained as he felt. “I’ll dress first.”

“Yes my Lord. Would you require assistance?” The voice faltered a little and Cal toyed with the idea of accepting the offer.

“Where’s Pellaz?” he asked instead.

“I do not know my Lord. He was not here when I woke this morning.”

Cal grimaced and swung his legs over the side of the bed feeling all the muscles pull. He didn’t need to look at the house Har to see the disapproval, he could hear it and it annoyed him. So he ignored the servant and wiggled his toes.

Where had it all gone so terribly wrong, he wondered. Aruna should not be a battle, not like rape, or as the Gelaming would call it, pelki and chaitra. Aruna was about making love. Oh that forbidden word! Cal chastised himself mockingly. The Gelaming had a lot to learn and he didn’t care what anyone tried to tell him, love still existed in this world. He had felt it, tasted it, embraced it wholeheartedly once, and he would not let anyone convince him it no longer existed. It was what he and Pellaz had once felt, still felt, and he knew that aruna should be about desire and love. Last night had been far from that. He wondered how Pellaz felt this morning after their embrace had turned into a struggle of wills with him winning and forcing his tormentor’s submission. The memory of it sickened him, reminding him too much of Fallsend, and his stomach soured.

Standing abruptly, he looked up remembering the silent house Har and saw the servant hovering uncertainly. “You may go.”

Pellaz’s attendant still looked hesitant.

“Just go,” he said tiredly as he rubbed the back of his neck, not surprised to feel bruises there.

Alone again, he stiffly made his way into the bathroom and stepped down the stone steps into the large, round hot tub. He pushed the floating lilies out of the way and sighed as he submerged into the welcoming water’s warmth. It eased his stiff muscles and went a long way to improving his temper. Looking around, he admitted he adored this room, liking the way the sun warmed the alcove through the oval window, and the plants climbing the lattice. Like its owner, Pellaz, the room was exotic. His own bathing room was no way near as nice and if he and Pellaz could only work out their problems, then they could share these chambers. He sighed at the thought. If only Pellaz would be reasonable, it was a wistful thought and brought a sleepy expression to his face.

If only.

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