Naggarond- Love is war!

It was snowing in Naggarrond.
When it didn’t?!
From the tallest spire of the continent the Witch King glared down at his city. His city, the term was laughable as nothing about these Elves resembled himself, but then again when had he last looked at himself, a flash of revulsion coursed through his body as he recalled the last time he had laid eyes upon his charred flesh. Unlike the rumours and gossip spread by loose lips and his enemies, Malekith could and did remove his armour. While it was true that Asuryan’s fury had left him scarred and badly burnt, but there was no need for him to be encased in the Armour of Midnight as the rumours spoke. There were risks, but he could afford to discard the artefact for few hours of his own leisure.
Years lost in the horrifying Realm of Chaos had taken their toll on Malekith. If in the past he would have ranted and raved to his subjects and stirred them for another war, now he stood from the balcony and looked in the distance. His malevolent gaze slid past the harbour, past the churning blood cauldrons of Khainite cultist and slave pens, instead through his witch-sight Malekith focused upon Ghrond, where rested his greatest enemy and ally. Where the witches and sorceresses did as they could until the Grand Sorceress herself intervened, but the ruler of the Druchii hadn’t bid words with her ever since his late wife’s sister came to this frozen wasteland to extract vengeance.
While Alissandra had left him, when he would have needed her the most and tried to return to him even millennia later, she was his to punish! As her husband and the King of Druchii, it was his damned right to do with her as he saw fit. Morathi, mother or no, had no right to overturn his decisions. So, he let the Asrai attack the city until the Hag Queen herself was dragged in front of Ariel, who had driven a hard bargain to let the sorceress leave with her life. Naturally, his mother, as duplicitous as ever had come and tried to reach his tower, but ever loyal Kouran had barred her way. Churning with anger she had left Nagarrond and fearful dreadspears spoke that the Hag sorceress was calling storms wherever she went, freezing those unlucky to intrude on her path to the bone. Now she hadn’t left her tower in years, which now Malekith had forgotten to count and ever since death of Alissandra, the Witch King never had a reason to summon or look for her.
Yet now with the winter winds howling in loudly in the evening sky, unwittingly his gaze was drawn to the darkness that seemed to fester in Ghrond. Grabbing  a hold of the robes and wrapping the soft black fabric around himself, beneath the shadows of the hood, his green eyes found the tower of sorcery and there on the balcony he saw her, naked in the evening polar lights, that scurried like serpents in the sky. As her eyes met his, the Witch King knew that she knew too that that enough time had passed.
Gentle whispers were carried with the wind. Soothing words and promises all danced around him, almost caressing his wrecked flesh. He scoffed and banished these whispers, not willing to entertain these false promises, caresses and returned to his private chambers. Taking long walks through the empty corridors of his tower, Malekith reminisced about all his friends and loyal allies he had lost these thousands of years. Every memory was fresh in the accursed eyes and through the winds of magic these empty hallways were bursting with life. Memories of elves long past walked among him, mingling and laughing at the rare celebrations, some even recognizing him and bowing.
All of this was agony for the Witch King, who despite all his power and influence was truly alone in the world. For centuries his bed had remained empty and chambers cold for in his arrogance and pride, he didn’t seek counsel of anyone, maybe rarely from Hellebron and Morathi, but latter, much like a cat appeared whenever she deigned it to her interests. Shaking his head in sad amusement, Malekith walked through a couple of ghosts of courtiers and soon had approached his destination. His very own, private chambers, where he could rest for the day and continue to plot the downfall of Ulthuan and the unwashed hordes that were teeming further north in the icy tundra.
Having approached the door Malekith’s calloused hand grabbed the golden handle and pushed open the black oaken door and was surprised by the smell of the firepit burning. Not hurrying, the Elf narrowed his eyes and passed his study, lighting braziers with purple witchfire, magical devices springing to life and his trophies on the wall animating as they were alive. Through the sets of the doors, the Witch King came upon his bedroom and having found no trace of any intruder, let his magic fly. His suspicion was rewarded by  a slight tinge of Morathi’s influence, which seemed vanish rapidly. Apparently, the witch had offered her first steps in attempting to reconcile, that just aroused more of his own suspicion.
However, he opted to ignore this meddling and a with his feet across the plush carpets headed towards his personal bathroom, a private place for him to meditate in. As he opened the door, the Elf was greeted by his little private paradise. A large bath that more resembled a pool was brimming with water that churned in light pink colour as the spell enchanted in the water poured its soothing magic into the liquid. Near the edges of the bath laid bottles of finest liquor afforded to an Elf. With a small smile he spied a couple of bottles from Teclis and Finubar’s private stores and slowly removed his heavy robes.
Malekith didn’t shy away from his hideous visage in the mirrors, merely breathing deeply as he took in his patchwork of scars. With trembling hands, he raked his fingers across his face, ignoring the pain that came touching the burned flesh. Here all his failures were laid fresh for himself to see.
Behind him, the water splashed lightly.
The Witch King whipped around; fists clenched. In the tub, where previously there had been nothing, now sat the naked body of a woman, although to say that she was sitting was bit of an understatement as Morathi, the Hag Queen now lounged in the water, sprawled like a cat basking in the rays of the sun. A snarl appeared on the elf’s lips as he stood there, watching her. Realizing his greeting, the sorceress smiled and stretched before rising like a snake from the depths of the bath, revealing herself fully and sauntering through the water towards him. Wide hips swung and her full breasts bounced in tandem as this walking sin approached the Elven King.
Malekith remained unperturbed, he ignored her standing in front of him, naked, beads of water running down her supple flesh, peaks of her breasts erect and almost begging for attention. His eyes remained focussed on her face, searching for any hidden meaning or veiled intent.
“Did I not bar you entry after your actions against the Asrai?” he left out the part for Allissandra as she did not matter anymore, for her death was irreversible and even her return had been a siren song, trying to dare him into deluding himself that things could have been the way they had been.
In the end she had been a stranger wearing face of his wife of thousands of years ago.
“Twelve years ago you bade your Black Guards turn their spears against me” Morathi sulked, biting her lip and crossing her arms in a way that clearly was meant to irritate him “After you let Ariel’s pets besiege Ghrond and drag me through the mire. I had no inkling I raised such a cruel son”
“If you had stayed out of my affairs and let my lady wife live, we would not have this problem” He pointed out as he disrobed “Then again this is not the first time you have meddled in my choice of women”
Smiling not unlike a war hydra shown live prey, Morathi watched with narrowed eyes at the sheer carelessness he showed towards her. Almost casually the Witch King climbed into the bath, sending small splashes her way.
The steam rose from the surface of the liquid as Malekith let his body soak with the elixirs as Morathi watched him from the distance. He paid no attention to her and instead rested his muscled arms on the sides of the tub and leaned back his head. Across him, the Hag sorceress continued to watch him with narrowed eyes.
“Are you still mad about all those insipid little girls who claimed to love you?” she cooed as she scooted over, wading through the water like a bloodthirsty shark. Her hands reaching the back of his neck as she pressed against him.
“Don’t you know that I’m the only one you need?” the Hag sorceress looked him in her sights and Malekith could only sigh and grab them, pulling them away from his scarred neck.
“Sadly, you have made it abundantly clear” looked at her coolly and yet was surprised, when she truly turned to him and settled on his hips. Malekith let out a low hiss and both of them knew that this was turned once more into another game of theirs of vying for power over the other. Love, familial or romantic had nothing to do with it ever since he had spared her this fate was theirs.
To war. To fight proxy wars in secret, to trade poisoned barbs at one another and at night’s fight with their bodies for supremacy until they succumbed to slumber
“Mother” the Witch King rasped, and his green eyes bore into hers.
His strong hands grasped her breasts as the Witch King bit into her. Teeth caressed the milky skin of the nape of her neck, followed by Morathi’s moans as she pressed his neck closer with her left hand, as her right trailed down the flat of her stomach, to her most private garden, bringing sensations familiar and ravenous.
“Did you miss this?” She asked as he played with her breasts. Hearing no answer Morathi smirked victoriously before gasping as he pinched her leftmost nipple hard. Malekith snarled and continued his assault on her neck. Too long this standstill had passed between them and had now reached this inevitable confrontation. As her hand was about to reach for his spear, the Witch King stopped her in her tracks, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting, so that she would face him.
“Mmm” the witch said as she settled on top of him “I bet you did…”
“Don’t fool yourself” Malekith snarled breathlessly, pulling her on top of him roughly. The force of his thrust reverberated through her entire body, so that her mouth remained agape in a slient gasp as his hands grabbed her hips.
“You are mistaken that this is something more than a release” between thrusts the Witch King grunted, nails biting into the sides of Morathi, who grabbed the face of her son, who continued to thrust in her savagely.
“Oh,Malekith” she moaned as he bit at her chest, tongue desperately itching for the dark nipples. Like a beast, the Tyrant of Druchii sought out her and nothing gave her more pleasure to see him like this. Hanging on his scarred neck, she guided her left breast closer to the elf’s face, who on instinct increased his hold on her, leaving a trail of bruises as he tried to keep her in place.
Laughing with mirth, the Hag Queen observed how eagerly he sucked on her breast. Ever since his return from the realm of Chaos, the Witch hadn’t shown such desperation for another’s touch and after Allisara’s death, the sorceress had been afraid that she had lost him forever. The sensation of suckling and thrusts filling her to the brim, brought a dangerous lull of peace to Morathi.
“There,there” she cooed, intent on continuing to tease him, but instead the words remained on her tongue as Malekith increased his pace.  His thrusts grew more erratic and the sorceress smiled. The Witch King’s stamina was legendary among the covenants and those lucky enough, herself included naturally could boast that he could go on for days with no magical elixirs or spells to increase his endurance. What many of those witches didn’t know was that there existed spells that would achieve the opposite effect, but with greater result.
She may or may not had tinted the water with the special elixir and powdered her skin with the same effect inducing powder. Already the witch could feel the mind shattering orgasm that would crash into her, whenever Malekith would give in to her.
When it would, it would be glorious indeed.
Licking her lips, Morathi whispered into his ear as she rolled her hips.
“You seem very eager” she bit the lobe of his ear, immediately feeling herself smashed heavily onto his member. Malekith released her breast from the grasp of his teeth and blew hot breath over her chest. Without hesitation, the Witch King plunged them both into the depths of the tub, sending limbs sprawling over and throwing a curve ball into whatever plan they had thought up of the other.
Rising from the depths of the tub, the sorceress immediately felt the absence of her lover and the burning ache that set ablaze her nether regions. Fingers sliding between her nether lips, sought to alleviate it. Yet after first of seconds Malekith couldn’t be seen, however that was false as behind her water splashed and the Witch King surfaced like a shark pressed the sorceress against the side of the tub.
Morathi groaned as the scarred elf squeezed and fondled her breasts as his hips ground against hers. Aching for his touch, with one hand she grabbed his member and with the other his hand. bringing it up to her face, the Hag Queen put the digits into her mouth and sucked, stunning the elf long enough, for her to guide it to its new destination. Malekith having seen her idea stopped her and through one of the mirrors she saw his unreadable expression with a raised eyebrow. Pushing her hips back at him was enough to convince him.
As soon as she him inside her, swiftly she withdrew his fingers from her mouth and lowered them to her nether lips. Slowly, his fingers brushed her folds, before pinching her clitoris and sending shivers throughout her entire body.
“Do you really want it this way?” he asked and with her free hand, Morathi looked at him, caressing his face.
“My son” she moaned throatily as he slipped a finger inside of her “Whenever I have urged you to do something that was against my wishes?”
“Never” he rumbled and she pecked him on the cheek, before slapping his buttocks
“Now be a good boy and punish me for breaking into your tower”
Nothing more needed to be said as her behind felt the burn of his girth as he thrusted into her. The Witch King’s lips were once more on her neck, but this time teeth accompanied them with their assault. At the same time, she felt even more of his fingers inside her, moving and teasing her. With every second Morathi felt that she might tip over the edge and veer past the point of no return before her spell had taken hold of him. With spite in her veins, she would not succumb first, a spell already on her lips to finish this here and  now, but Malekith’s hand clasping her mouth shut with his free hand undid all of her intentions leaving her helpless before the sorcerer.
“You think I wouldn’t notice?” he growled in her ear, panting heavily “Your meddling”
“Agh” she groaned into his hand and sent her thoughts to him and Malekith laughed , half out of breath before he loudly uttered a prayer to Akharti. Now she knew what he had in store for her. Morathi’s eyes widened and she desperately tried to untangle herself from the elf as her own orgasm was mounting.
That rogue she thought as he pressed deeper into her and continued his own chant. However, the Hag Queen was not so rigid to not to understand when she was beaten. After all this way she could win in some small measure, despite what Malekith thought.
So,as the Witch King continued his chant, the sorceress pushed herself against him, burying him inside her, despite the pain and joined his chanting as his hand snaked down to hold her neck, intent on crushing it.
Oh, how ruthless he was, Morathi smiled like a cat as their voices mixed together as the untold crescendo descended upon the lovers. With a mighty roar, her laughter and the last vestiges of self-control, Malekith pulled his member out of her and sheathed it inside her core.
Shaking like an earthquake, the Feared Witch King of Naggarond emptied his seed into her, the milky liquid splashing against her barren womb. As if drained, both Morathi and Malekith slowly slumped back into the liquid. Spent from their lovemaking and their minds catatonic from pleasure of days condensed in couple of hours. It was fortunate that the tower of Malekith was one of the most secure structures in the world and only the most foolish of assassins would strike them there and perish.
Malekith enveloped her in a fierce hug and she was proud how he had marked her, starting from the bruises on her neck and hips to the very ache in her inner vaults. His hold over her slackened and curiously enough Morathi found her son fast asleep.
Her hands traced over his scarred scalp and she wondered how he could go on. Everything he had ever loved either hated him or was lost to him forever, even his once perfect body was wracked with pain and burns that allowed even the briefest reprieve. The sorceress wondered in a strange moment of calm as his will was only that of his father. While her heart forever would long for Aenarion, their son had already surpassed him in no small regard. To carve and butcher empires, to carry on with everything stacked against him. To lose and lose again. To love and love wholeheartedly despite the pain was something he hadn’t inherited from either of his parents and Morahti wondered how would they have ended up if he had not been burned by Asuryan.
If anyone would come to see the scene of the fierce Witch King of Naggarond asleep on the Hag Queens breasts, who slowly caressed him and sang long forgotten lullabies, they would not live long enough to tell the tale as the halls of Malekith’s home were sparse for a reason.
The snow continued to fall outside the tower, but instead of the fierce snowstorm Malekith had seen earlier, it showed signs of stopping and as if the world had listened to The Witch King, promising him and his a peaceful tomorrow.
It no longer snowed in Naggarond