Avelorn Bliss [straight, vanilla, elves]

Avelorn Bliss

-alternate title: Royally Fucked-


	For all the sights and wonders he had encountered in his decades long journey across the globe, there was just something about Avelorn that touched him like no other.  The eerie beauty of the Kislevite tundra at dawn, the crude but curiously proud spires of Altdorf, and even the gloriously invigorating wilds of Athel Loren all fell short of the elegant forests of the Cradle of Elfdom.  Here, in a forest planted as a garden for gods, the old ways had remained constant since before the rise of the Phoenix Kings.  It seemed as if each towering oak and sentinel pine had been cultured to grow in just the right way, in just the right place, for the view from any direction to take one’s breath away.

	Finubar, the “Seafarer” they called him, tall and seasoned from his travels, detached himself from the merriment of the greater camp and made his way outwards.  Outwards towards her.

	His symbolic marriage to the Everqueen had drawn nobles and princes from all across Ulthaun.  Revelers from Tironac danced and sang with mages from Saphery; even the haughty knights of Caledor seemed to be enjoying the wine and sights and sounds.  Colorful banners in every hue imaginable fluttered gently in the cool breeze.

	He turned back one final time, letting the warmth of their play to lift his spirit in the dark times ahead.  Terrible forces were being roused in the north and the deepest forests.  Soon he would have to lead his people in a war against extinction, a war started many thousands of years ago.  A war they were slowly, but surely, losing.

	The newly crowned Phoenix King turned, flinching as he nearly walked into a figure standing behind him.  Letting out a sigh, he mentally berated himself for letting his guard down.  Not that it would have helped, for this was a Handmaiden.  She eyed him with a blank expression cast over delicate features.  The longbow across her back was notched and ready, but she stood with an easy grace of one completely confident in their control.  With the heady wine in his system, her athletic and lightly clad form was distractingly intoxicating.  He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

	“This way,” was all she said, turning and heading deeper into the woods.

	They marched in silence, her far more silent than he.  Their path wound and meandered through the thickets and glades like a lost child.  Occasionally he would catch sight of a shadow with long, flowing hair dashing between trees, or the silhouette of a watching guardian.  Finubar wondered how many were out there.  This night, probably all one hundred.

	Eventually she led him to a solitary golden pavilion, standing vigil in a silent glade.  In the flickering light, he realized the tent was made of wispy-thin silks of snow white, and only the candles inside had turned it gilded.

	“She’s waiting for you,” said the Handmaiden.  Finbur turned to thank her, but she was already gone.

	Spinning to face the tent once more, he took a deep breath.  This was his duty, and he would see it done to the best of his abilities.  Striding forward as confidently as he could contrive to be, Finbur the Seafarere, Eleventh Phoenix King of Ulthuan, passed into the Everqueen’s pavilion.

	He found her sitting on a simple stool, sipping at a crystal glass of red wine.  Finubar stopped dead in his tracks.  It was said the current Everqueen was the most beautiful woman in the entire world.  Seeing Alarielle here, in the flesh, he could believe it.  Perhaps it was the dim lighting, or simply a quirk of her aetheric nature, but her face seemed both soft and sharp at the same time.  Her cheeks were vivid and clearly defined, ever angle prominent and visible, but there was a silkiness to it, a delicate rounding that gave her an innocent complexion.  He tried to speak, but found himself swallowing his words as her eyes turned towards him.  At the ceremony, she had been veiled, but now…

	“My queen,” he said, bowing low.  Alarielle simply nodded in greeting.  Finubar shifted his weight awkwardly.  She smiled at his unease and his heart melted.  With a wave of her hand she invited him to join her at the table.

	Finubar sat down; never taking his eyes of the enchanting woman he shared the tent with.  The elf queen wore a delicate, loosely fitting gown of light green silks that left her shoulders and arms bare.  As a gust of wind drafted across the fabric, and in the sputtering light he could see that it was almost see through.  His pulse quickened again and he looked away, cheeks reddening.

	“There is no need to be nervous, Phoenix King,” she said in a voice as delicate as a ray of moonlight in winter.  Gods above, just being in the room with her was turning him into a poet.  And not a very good one.

	“I, uh, I have something for you,” he said.  Finubar began to pat around his body, looking for the gift.  So much for the elegant statesman, he thought.  He felt more nervous now that when he faced Asuryan’s Fire.

	The Everqueen watched patiently, smiling politely.  Eventually he found the small and package placed it before her.

	With thin, delicate fingers, the golden haired elf loosened the strings and unfolded the paper, revealing a small book and several small bags.  The red book had no title, and the Everqueen turned it this way and that.  Another thin string kept it closed.

	“What is it,” she asked, genuinely curious, as she drew off the band.

	“A souvenir from our cousins in Athel Loren,” he told her.  She opened the first page and her eyes danced in the candlelight.  A purple and white flower, pressed and dried in the most expert of manner.

	“I’ve never seen this flower before…”

	“None of the Asur have,” he said, with no small amount of pride.  “I was given permission to collect those flowers from some of the deepest glades in the forests of Athel Loren.  The bags are seeds.  Each page has its own flower, a drawing I made of what the full grown plant looked like, and a brief description of their attributes and needs.”

	She gently flipped through several of the pages, studying each new bud with the attention of a master botanist.  Alarielle placed the book on the table, and looked into Finubar’s eyes once more.  “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever been given, my king.”

	Her scrutiny sent his heart racing like an Ellyrian’s warhorse.  He gulped nervously and took a sip of wine.

	Alarielle stood for the first time, seeming to grow out of the stool like a blossoming flower herself.  Her hand brushed against his and drew him to a standing position as well.  “I see the princes have chosen the father of the next Everqueen wisely,” she said.

	Before he could reply she gently drew him towards the four post bed in the corner of the temporary room. She eased aside the thin fabric and crawled towards the row of pillows.  Still shaking, Finubar paused in front of the cushioned bed.  This moment was one dreamed about by elves all across Ulthuan; and not just the men.  Alarielle the Radiant, they called her, and with good reason.

	Their union, he knew, was only symbolic, a duty.  They would remain together for a single year, just long enough for them to conceive a daughter.  Their child would one day be an Everqueen herself, but he and Alarielle would share each other no more.  It was tradition.  She was the spiritual leader of the Asur people, he the statesman and military authority.  Their lot was to rule separately, not together.

	In his heart, Finubar knew this to be the wisest choice.  She had no love for him, he was simply a means to continue her line.  As to his feelings, well, what did they matter?  Few elves, least of all Finubar, would ever have the opportunity to actually come to know the Everqueen.  He knew he did not love her, but he admired her strength and bathed in her radiant beauty.  With only scant reluctance, he untied his sash and discarded his robe.

	Alarielle lay back easily and watched with interest as he disrobed.  She had heard much of this Finubar the Seafarer.  Her father Bel-Hathor, in those few moments she had been with him before he died, had spoken well of this elf.  The Everqueen, new to her role, had been born and raised in the endless forests of Avelorn, always watched and guarded by the Sisters.  But this elf, this Phoenix King, had crossed oceans and explored new lands.  His strong chin and nose had been colored by the sun of Araby and chilled by the frosts of Kislev.  As the fabric fell across his smooth chest, she imagined his surprise at seeing the growing kingdoms of man rising from the mud they had squabbled in for millennia.  He was as seasoned and experienced as a dozen other asur.  It remained to be seen how seasoned he was in areas aside from statecraft.  Her mouth twisted into a smile as he finished undressing.  He was endowed with more than grace and wit, it seemed.

	Standing in the faint light, Finubar was suddenly very embarrassed indeed.   He stifled the urge to cover himself, and instead crossed around the makeshift room, snuffing out candles as he went.  As each light was dimmed, Alarielle grew a little sadder.  Something about the act reminder of the dark times encroaching on her people and ancestral homeland.  She resolved again to do her duty.  The future of Avelorn and all Ulthuan was in her hands, and between her legs.

	Finubar climbed into bed, acutely aware that he did so with far less grace than she had.  Still, the darkness gave him courage, and soon he was at her side.  He opened his mouth, but she placed a finger against his lips, shaking her head.  The Phoenix King nodded, and placed his hand against her cheek.  It was warm to the touch, and his heartbeat quickened as she guided it lower.  The hand spread out and traced the curves of her body, ever so gently.  He swallowed as he passed down her side and felt the wide curve of her hip.  As his hand passed down her thigh and towards her feet, she placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, gently.

	Incensed, he took hold of the wispy fabric of her gown and carefully drew it back up her body.  She hardly seemed to move as it passed over her body, it was as if he was removing a layer of glamor, rather than fabric.  There was no friction as it passed up and over her head and, as he carefully tossed it aside, he was almost sure it wafted into nothingness instead of landing on the floor.

	He leaned forward, pressing his head closer to hers, but stopped when she touched his lips with her hand once more.  Even in the gloom he could see her shake her head.  Sighing to himself, he remembered that this was no love they shared, but duty.  Instead, he aimed lower and brushed his lips against her neck, tasting the warmth that radiated off her skin.  It was like a static shock passed into him.  Feeling his own excitement rising, in more ways than one, he let his hands slid down both sides of her chest, down to her hips, and back up again.  He slipped them inwards and gently placed them against her breasts.  They were larger than he expected, even though he had seen them all but bare only moments earlier.  The soft flesh gave willingly as he pressed into them, kneading them gently and rocking them in little circles.  Greedily, he started to squeeze into them, only pressing harder when he heard her moan quietly beneath him.  Leaning down, he took a nipple in his mouth and flicked his tongue back and forth over the stiffening gland.  Careful not to use his teeth, he sucked hard against her and pulled upward, his shaft twitching in anticipation as he heard the wet pop of her nipple dropping from his lips.

	Slowly but surely, he planting a trail of kissed ever downward; stopping every now and then to lick or nibble at her.  His pace quickened his pace as he felt her tremble.  Finubar spread his tongue as wide as it would go and gave her a good, long lick from the bottom of her lips to the top, flicking it up quickly when he crossed over her clitoris.  He heard her suppress a squeak and did it again, moving even slower this time.  Her body tensed and he couldn’t help himself, burying his face in her wetness and lapping up the juices like a dehydrated hound.

	Alarielle wriggle in pleasure under his tongue and he took the time to reach up and caress her chest once more, gently pinching her nipples and kneading the softness of her breasts.  Then he drew one hand down and, making sure to keep his wet tongue gliding gently over her moist lips, eased a finger into her vagina.  She bucked forwards unconsciously and soon he was pumping his finger in an out rapidly.  Finubar felt the sheets move as the Everqueen grasped balled up a mass of fabric in each hand; she was starting to pant.

	He crooked his finger and started to tickled her upper wall, meanwhile using his tongue to brush aside the thin flap of skin covering her clitoris.  He began to twirl his tongue in circles around it when he heard he say something that double his heart rate and sent his erection throbbing with a longing ache.

	“More fingers.”

	He froze for a second, wide eyed, then shoved two more fingers into her, thrusting them in and out as rapidly as he could.  She gasped in shock, tensing her body, then eased herself closer to him as if begging for him to continue.  He kept pumping and licking and twisting his wrist for as long as he could manage, using every trick of the trade he had learned in his years of travel to please the most gorgeous creature he would ever have the honor of practicing on.  Just when he thought he could go no further, her whole body contorted against his finger and lips and his mouth was filled, then overflowed with her taste as she violently squirted outwards.

	She collapsed into the bed and lay there, panting softly.  After an agonizing few minutes of letting her collect herself, the elf king felt his patience grow thin as his shaft grew stiff.  Slowly, he eased his way over her.  She seemed so small now, her body glistening in the a thin layer of sweat and her deep breaths raising and lowering her ample chest.  He grasped his penis firmly and stroked it up and down, making sure it was as hard as he could get it.

	Placing one hand on her thigh to maintain leverage and using the other to guide himself, Finubar placed the head of his cock in between the glistening, warm wetness of her lips. He leaned forward, using his whole body to ease into her.  The way she wrapped around him, squeezing down each time he moved further in, overrode his instinct to move slowly.  He pressed in the rest of the way, his pelvis slapping against her as he actually shoved her back towards the headboard.

	Finubar waited, simply letting the hot mass of flesh surrounding his dick to pulse and twist as the Everqueen loosened up to him.  If he closed his eyes, he could feel the pulse of her heart beating against him.  He would gently rock his hips every few moments to keep up the tension and remain erect, but otherwise was content to enjoy her heat.

	“For Isha’s sake,” she said, pushing him over with a surprising amount of strength for one of her stature.  He fell back against the bed, his head almost falling off the edge, as she pressed herself up and swung a leg over each side of him, straddling the Phoenix King.

	“You men always think I’m such a frail little flower,” she said.  “It’s not a question of me being able to take what you dish out,” she leaned down, close to his face, “it’s a question of you surviving ME.”

	She clasped him by the head and pulled his lips over her own, pressing them against each other and forcing his tongue into her mouth.  Alarielle firmly grasped his twitching member and sat down on it. Hard.

	Before he could process the burning pressure swallowing him whole, she was already bucking up and down on top of him.  She rocked forwards, grinding up his shaft.  She pulled back, twitching side to side and she drew off him.  She bit his lip so hard it drew blood.

	Barely recovering from the shock, Finubar slapped his hands against her thighs.  He squeezed into her and pulled her closer each time she rocked into him.  In moments they were both gyrating and thrusting.  The bed began to shake.

	A fair distance away, two lithe elven maids in battledress glanced at each other and smiled.

	Back in the tent, the Phoenix King had regained the upper hand.  He had pushed her back against the headboard and was pounding into her mercilessly.  She moaned and cried out each time he thrust forward.  Her nails scraped against his back.  The lines reddened and inflamed.  He didn’t care.

	Using his whole body, he pressed her into the soft mattress.  His solid chest squished against her round, soft breasts.  Their lips met and they pressed against each other hungrily.

	His hand was coming through her hair.  Her legs locked around his back, drawing him closer.  Their panting synched with the rhythm of his pumping.  They could almost image their hearts beating as one as the felt each other pulsing as their sexes entwined.

	Finubar leaned back, pulling her up with him.  Now in a seated position, they hugged into each other, equal.  Their closeness made him even harder.  They ground into each other, desperate to feel the heat between them.

	The Phoenix King felt his throbbing erection begin to twitch wildly.  The Everqueen felt it too, and let out a piercing wail.  Her heightened sensitivity caused the unexpected sensation to ripple through her like an electric shock.  Finubar felt the sheets moistened as the heat around him seemed to double in intensity.

	Gasping for breath, he bucked upwards with all his might, pumping thick, hot goo into his partner in a near endless stream.  She fell back against the pillows.  He followed her, pumping again and again until he was spent and dry.  He collapsed into her arms and they embraced, kissing and exploring each other with their hands.

	Come what may, they both thought, it would be a glorious year.