MENGK

MENGK

By Amanda Kear

Characters: Mengk/Terzian, Cobweb
Word Count: 3127
Rating: 15
Spoilers: The Bewitchments of Love and Hate
Summary/Author’s Note: I was intrigued as to who Mengk was and how he ended up looking after Terzian.
Disclaimer: The world of Wraeththu belongs to Storm Constantine.

 

Lord Terzian was dead.

 

Mengk sat on the bare, scorched earth where the pyre had been. The smell of charcoal was in the air, and nothing but that remained of his Lord. The fire had been encouraged to burn fiercely – hotter than any wood fire had a right to burn – and no fragments remained. No hunks of charred wood, no cremated bone, not even the metal of a ring or belt buckle. There had been ash of course; the flaking residue of flesh and bone indistinguishable from that of timber or clothing. Yet that was now gone as well. Cobweb had taken the scant handfuls left from the fire’s hunger, powdered them in his hands and had thrown them one by one into the wind. All that was Terzian erased from existence by the breeze.

 

His Lord’s family had ordered the huge pyre to be constructed in the farmland out beyond Galhea. Mengk had thought at first that choice of location might be to permit all the hara of the town to attend the funeral, but that was not the case. The mourners were few: Terzian’s blood relatives, his consort, a few house hara and some high-ranking soldiers who had remained with the garrison at Galhea. Of course, there was that one Gelaming there too – he might call himself Seel har Griselming, but he was of the Gelaming mould and mindset. So a Gelaming was permitted to be present, yet of the ordinary hara that Terzian had ruled, and the rank and file of the army that he had commanded, there were none.

 

No, the location of the pyre had not been chosen to celebrate Terzian’s life, but because the place was isolated and undistinguished. There was to be no memorial to his lord. No gravestone, no statue, no plaque. Terzian was to be quietly forgotten. The Gelaming had no doubt insisted upon it. That seemed to be their style; to edit the universe and the hara in it until they conformed to the Gelaming ideal of perfection. Terzian’s name would undoubtedly be erased from history as smoothly as those of the myriad human rulers and warriors that Wraeththu had already forgotten.

 

Mengk would never forget. His grief was raw and sharp and burned as hot as the flames of the pyre. Every day he would remember Terzian’s name.

 

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Break Open the Massive Dark

Editor's PickBreak Open the Massive Dark
by Thevina

Story Notes

Author email: thevina33@gmail.com

Spoilers: Shades of Time and Memory

Canon Characters: Aleeme, Azriel, Cobweb, Moon, Vaysh, Cal (all others original characters)

Summary:

Now language escape, fugitive of forgiveness
Leaving as trace only circles of rust
– “Drought,” Vienna Teng

There are many casualties in the second assault on Ponclast that happens in The Shades of Time and Memory. This is a possible telling of Aleeme and Azriel’s story after their liberation from Fulminir.

Author’s Notes: Firstly, my huge thanks to my two betas, Elfscribe and Wendy. You have both helped tremendously in making this story as polished as it is— and thanks for pushing me to write Cal! Hopefully there aren’t any mistakes, but if any remain, they’re mine. My gratitude also to Persephone for being an advance reader and for sharing your enthusiasm and thoughts. One of my original characters makes reference to a Chickasaw legend; I found the story here initially.

Break Open the Massive Dark

Drifting into wakefulness felt like slowly rising to the surface from the bottom of a lake. Aleeme suddenly thrashed around, terrified that there was ice above him; he was trapped, he couldn’t breathe— he would drown if he opened his mouth to take a breath and his limbs were so heavy. He began to sink again, letting out a strangled cry despite the panic of expecting a rush of icy water to fill his lungs. He pulled in a deep breath of air, hearing an awful rattling sound that, with a shock, he realized was his own hoarse throat. There was a sound of canvas flapping, somehar muttering under his breath, approaching Aleeme at speed while with agonizing effort he forced his eyes open. He couldn’t even speak, he just gaped, fish-like, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to figure out where the hell he was, why he was lying down, the source of the glowing soft light. Something horrific had happened; it lurked patiently in Aleeme’s mind, off to the side like something glimpsed in his peripheral vision, uncertain and shadowy. Whatever it was, it was really, really bad.

“Aleeme. Please look at me.”

The har’s voice was steady, but Aleeme could hear the worry in his tone, betraying his calm demeanor. With tremendous will, Aleeme turned his head to gaze heavy-lidded at the har standing at his bedside, clad in healer’s robes. He had porcelain skin and cat-like eyes that slanted slightly upward. He seemed to be struggling with emotions that he managed to keep in check, reaching down to brush some of Aleeme’s hair that had instinctively waved feebly toward him.

“Please don’t try to sit up or move around,” the healer said kindly. “You’ve done very well, but you’ll still be with us for quite some time. You’re safe now.” He held his hands suspended above Aleeme’s body, walking slowly around him, his lips moving silently.

Aleeme felt a soothing warmth in his torso when the healer passed over that area, but the sensation stopped as the har traversed above his pelvis, down his legs and up again. Not until he was above his stomach did Aleeme sense the heat and strange feeling that his blood was singing, responding to whatever energies the healer was channeling toward him. He tried to move his legs, managing only to wriggle his toes a little bit and feel a terrible ache in his inner thighs.

“What happened?” he asked the healer who had pulled up a chair and slipped his hands under the warm blankets to knead at his thigh.

The touch was professional, not at all erotic, but just as the exotic har opened his mouth to reply, Aleeme was assaulted by a memory of somehar else’s fingers gripping his shoulders in a bruising hold, a battering ram of an ouana-lim slamming into him over and over as he screamed and tried to escape, only to be hit in the jaw by a hideous-looking creature—

“NO!” he shouted, shaking with the abject terror, powerless to escape as his innermost chamber was wrenched open. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

Aleeme swung with his fists, screaming and screaming, trying to kick, snapping with his teeth when he felt warm hands trying to pin him down.

“AZRIEL!” he sobbed, struggling against his would-be captors like a wild thing. There was a stinging in his left thigh and an icy sensation; hara with expressions of anxiety and concern came into his line of vision as he pulled against restraints they’d managed to attach to his wrists.

“Azriel!” he choked out of a raw throat, resisting the soothing waves of energy that radiated toward him. It was a trick— Ponclast had moved him, was going to do unspeakable things to him; Aleeme was too weak to fight it. He cried, the bitter, angry tears burning his eyes as he thought about another harling starting life in him, another harling created in hate.

“Just kill me!” Aleeme raged, though his mind was getting fuzzy. “I’ll die before this harling is born!” he yelled, gasping for breath. He began to feel as though his body had been filled with heavy cotton, becoming still even as he continued to struggle against whatever drug had been injected in him.

“Aleeme, you’re safe,” a voice said to his right; he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. “You’re with the best healers there are. Please believe me.”

Aleeme tried to spit at him, but his body no longer wanted to cooperate and instead he succeeded only in flinging spittle on his pillow. “You’re with him,” he moaned. “It’s a trick. Azriel…” The word tasted like blood. He wheezed pitifully, clawing at consciousness, desperate to stay awake. “Ulau…”

The world went black.

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Libertine

Libertine
by Thevina

Story Notes

Rating:
PG

Author’s email:
thevina33@gmail.com

Spoilers:
Enchantments

Canon Characters:
Terzian, Cal

Summary:
Terzian readies himself for the hunt.

Author’s Notes:
This is just a tiny ficlette exploring the idea of Terzian seeing himself in his more soume role, given a fair amount of sheh before he goes to seduce Cal in Enchantments. A few pages before this scene, Cal somewhat disgustedly tells Pell: “All those female bits lurking inside you, where you can’t see them, where you can forget them: but they’re there!” When Terzian appears at that fateful dinner, Pell notes he’s been drinking and that’s chilling because it means he’s no longer in control of himself. I interpreted that to mean Terzian had accidentally let his more soume parts loose now that he’s not in control.

Libertine

Rose petals. Proud, seductive flesh that shivers with power. They surround a tantalysing core; satiny soldiers defending its treasure. Vulnerabilities, and guerdons, these must never be unguarded, any leader or general knows that.

Terzian’s imagination is a lambent feast— he drinks more sheh as his fingers drift along the crimson sentries of the flowers on his dressing table. He’s had one of the house-hara come by to oil and brush his hair until it gleams like the pelt of a lioness. He’d had his eyes lined with indigo kohl, so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable — Terzian is no progenitor — but it highlights the cerulean of his eyes. Hara quake under his unrelenting gaze: in fear; in thrall; in adoration. There is one tonight whom he plans to ensnare with his eyes, an arrogant buck Terzian will wile into his bed, and keep him there…

He licks his lips and lifts his chalice, its delicate silver scrollwork pleasing to him. The sheh warms him. It unbinds the lurking yannic coils wound tightly far within the lush caverns of his being. Terzian is not currently restricted by his role of commandant, nor is he coarsened, out in the wilds of Galhea. He can luxuriate in curvaceous calfskin, adorn himself with onyx rings that shine dully as he strokes the hard planes of his chest. A low purr of pleasure escapes his lips when he tugs on the silver adornment which pierces a bared and hardened nipple. He laughs, a low sound of yearning in his throat. He’s not unleashed this power in an eternity; its source the serpenmolten throb pulsing from the cosmos deep between his legs. Terzian’s long stalk, encased in clinging leather, grows at the thought. With a growl, he drops his boots to the floor and stands, taking a last look at himself in the mirror before going to the dining room.

Sleek and strong, a sedutrix. It is the privilege of Wraeththu, though he almost never surrenders to it. Only that One could draw it out; his silent challenge through cavalier daring, his pouts, the exquisite fuck yous behind the batting of violet eyes.

Terzian smiles ferally at himself and rakes his fingers through his hair. He turns to toss back the last of his sheh and strides, a pantherine, to retrieve his prey.

The End

Terzian’s Dilemma

Challenge Submission - January 2009Terzian’s Dilemma
by Persephone

Characters: Cal, Terzian, Pellaz & Cobweb

Beta: Thevina/Thrihyrne Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Rating: NC17

Spoilers: The Enchantments of Flesh and Spirit

Synopsis: Cal presents Terzian with a challenging situation in the fateful night they spend together at Forever.

Disclaimer: All the characters, their world and all things Wraeththu belong to Storm Constantine, to whom I am very grateful.

Terzian’s Dilemma

It was an awkward, tension filled dinner at Forever, the four of us at the table playing our roles. Cobweb poked at his food, shooting daggers at me with his eyes, Pellaz tried to eat as quickly as possible, and Terzian made small talk about his military endeavors and how many horses had recently foaled, pretending everything was fine. I seemed to be the only one having a good time. Why did I enjoy seeing these hara squirm? One of them I was very fond of, one I fantasized about rooning and the other, we all seemed to know, was having intense arunic thoughts about me. It may or may not have been obvious that I returned those feelings, albeit with a certain degree of trepidation attached. Terzian, trying to dissipate some of the stress, addressed a question to me.

“Have you been to the stables yet, Cal?”

“No,” I answered smiling. “I don’t do much riding in the winter. I prefer to engage in indoor exercise.” I winked at him.

Terzian cleared his throat, Cobweb slashed at his meat with his knife screeching it across his plate, which made everyone jump. Pell seemed to be wishing he was invisible.

“Maybe I should check out the horses,” I remarked. “An invigorating winter ride after this lovely meal might do me some good. You like to ride, Cobweb. Care to join me?”

He stared at me, swallowed and said calmly, “I’d rather be tied to a tree and gutted.”

“Well,” I said good-naturedly. “Maybe some other time then.”

Two house hara came in and refilled the wine glasses, leaving very hurriedly. The taut atmosphere must have been palpable, even to them. After we’d finished and they were clearing up, Cobweb swept haughtily from the room, Pell close on his heels. It only took a terse look and the speaking of his name from Terzian to send Pell quickly out of the room. It seemed they couldn’t get away fast enough. Cobweb, I assumed would head to his rooms to sulk in private and possibly busy himself with plans for my demise, while Pellaz would make himself as scarce as possible. That left Terzian and me alone at the table.

“Well! Another delicious and congenial dinner at Forever, eh Terzian?”

He didn’t look amused. He lit two cigarettes and passed one to me. I didn’t care for the way he made the decision for me. I would have preferred him to ask if I cared for a smoke. A small thing, but it made me want to say, “No thanks, I don’t care for one.” But I was tired of playing games, so I took it.

“Why do you want to antagonize Cobweb?” Terzian asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I want to see how far I can go. Maybe just because it’s fun. I like lively exchanges at dinner, don’t you?”

Terzian took a deep drag on his cigarette and sighed.

“I wouldn’t push him too far.”

I laughed.

Changing the subject, I asked, “What shall we do tonight? Chess? A good book? Or maybe torrid aruna in your room. What’ll it be?”

I could tell he didn’t appreciate my attitude, but he gave me a bit of a smirk and replied, “What do you think?”

“Probably the aruna.”

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The Hat

Challenge Submission - January 2009The Hat
by Eldraug

Story Notes

Title:  The Hat

Author:  Eldraug

Pairing:  Cobweb/Terzian

Rating:  Soft R

Summary:   Terzian thinks about an evening of changes at home with Cobweb.

Disclaimer:  All characters and settings are the property of Storm Constantine.  I make no money from this work of short fiction

Author note:  I like to think that at one time Cobweb and Terzian were happy together.  This fic is set in that time.

The Hat

Terzian smiled as he pulled his dress uniform hat from the top shelf of his closet.  He loved the feeling of the smooth black leather, the way it shone in the light.  He buffed the silver studs with his sleeve before holding it back to critique his work.  Nodding to himself, he carried it carefully into the bedroom he shared with his chesnari.  Cobweb lay in their huge bed, curled up in the middle hugging a pillow.  Terzian stopped by the bed and smiled down at the fragile creature lost in sleep.  Leaning over, he placed a gentle kiss on Cobweb’s forehead then softly padded over to his chesnari’s dressing table.  Placing the hat carefully right in the center of it, he smiled to himself and left the room.

It was rare that Terzian was ever soume, being such an ouana personality and all, but there were times that he wanted to be taken care of, be controlled, be loved.  Sometimes being soume felt good, even for a Varrish warrior like himself.   He would never let any of the others know what he did and he would never be soume for anyone but Cobweb and even then it was only every now and then, but . . . Gods, when he wanted it, it felt so good.

As he settled in at the barracks in town for a day of paperwork, his mind drifted to what would happen that evening.   Webby would find his hat and know what it meant.  It was a little thing they had worked out when they were newlybonded.  He loved the way Webby looked in his hat – his soft, gentle chesnari with his dress uniform hat perched atop his head.  Webby’s whole demeanor changed when the hat was on his head – gone was the soft, whispery Cobweb and in his place was a dominant, strong har no one but Terzian ever saw.

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