Hello to you all! Before I begin the actual story, I feel that I need to clarify some things. This story was actually inspired by LovelyLonelyLady, who writes a lot of stories that I enjoy that take place during 20th Century or earlier, and showcase the love and commitment between a husband and wife following times of separation and/or struggle. I am moved to tears while reading them! However, equally so, they make me think of similar ideas of married sensuality within serious settings, real or otherwise. Therefore the following story is a post-war/separation reunion story, but it takes place in a sort of medieval fantasy setting. This will become its own little world, and I will continue the story of the main characters, in upcoming stories.
It is my first time sharing a fictional story, so I hope you all enjoy it!
There was always a celebration at the gate that opened to High Loiral, whose townfolk came out to give their prayers and well wishes to the knights before they departed for war and to welcome them when they returned home to the city. These were the heroes of the city, who defended the innocents within its walls from the monsters of the darkness that lurked beyond, waiting to strike. By God’s will, they left their loved ones behind for a purpose that would bring honour for any man, bravery for his bride, and a legacy for his children.
Today, they were returning. Though normally the crowds would have greeted the knights with flowers and cheering, on this solemn day only silence welcomed them back into the city. The stillness was loud and disconcerting. The knights feared that this would be their initial welcome. Now and forevermore.
People averted their faces in horror at the sight of bloody armour, mangled faces, and missing limbs. The men seemed more like ghosts from the underworld than humans, with everything that made up their humanity left abandoned on the battlefields of a brutal war. No one wished to welcome such gruesome specters.
But the city, filled with Elves, Humans, Dwarves and Mair alike, soon overcame their hesitancy and embraced the soldiers. A brief period of horror was replaced by a welcome. Women rushed to find their husbands, Dwarves to find weapons and armour, Elves to find the elephants and horses, and the Mair came to enchant wounds.
The knights themselves were somewhat mixed, though mostly Human and Elven.
Among the men was Victor. All his life, he had trained to be a tactician, and was a learned individual who understand God’s path for him as a man. Having worked all his life to be a knowledgeable man, he seldom realized that his future would hold great sorrow underneath the veneer of great glory. Always believing that he would be alone, he thought that perhaps God did not care for him enough to give him the capability to love.
The city did not know all of his work, apart from his studies on warfare and statecraft, which rang like mighty bells through the city and kingdom. The people saw an honourable man, silent, but wise.
However, having grown up under quiet desperation, alone and never loved, he was afraid to love anyone. He prayed to the Lord, and went about his work. This work included sometimes going to battles, and serving as a sort of intelligence agent in the field for the kingdom. Unlike most warriors of the day, he was relegated to working alone, and only accompanied his fellow kingdom-men when returning from far. No one knew of his deeds, and no awards or laurels were given; only the King, the Queen, and the Lord knew.
The praise of the people was therefore rare but appreciated, even if it was not love. He was surrounded by comrades, and yet so alone in the quiet of the night. So alone, no companion, no lover… no bride. At one point in time, he believed that perhaps he may never have such a companion.
This was the case for a number of years—until he had met her.
The memory was still clear as crystal in his mind.
He was walking among the gardens that were within the city’s academy, where children frolicked. At twenty-seven years of age, he was one of the most skilled strategists and scholars the city had seen in many generations. It was this skill and knowledge that had earned him his place as a sort of advisor to the academy when he was not actively on duty.
Victor was walking among the children, telling them to be careful when playing, when he noticed an adult was among them—a woman, playing with them.
He moved closer and questioned, “Excuse me, madam, who might you be?”
The lady froze, and the children started giggling as they pointed at Victor. She turned around and kept her head down, embarrassed that she had been caught playing with the children as if she was one herself.
He sensed he might have questioned her too harshly, and so softened his tone. “Madam, I harbour no anger or malice, it is just uncommon for any adults apart from teachers to be here at this time.”
The girl lifted her head, and for a moment, that felt like a century, Victor was in bliss.
My, what beautiful eyes she has, so bright and sparkling like the shined Jade Sapphires of the East, he thought.
“My apologies,” she began to explain. “I often bring these children some food and play with them…”
Still awestruck, looking deep into her eyes as he could barely take in what she was saying, he snapped out of his trance and asked,
“Erm, often, madam?”
“Well, some of the little men you teach take kindly to offer a lady a hand over the stone wall.”
What man wouldn’t offer his hand for a maiden this beautiful? His thoughts were loud and clear inside his mind: there was something to this lady. She was giggling as she spoke to him, showing off beautiful lips and a wondrous smile that filled his heart with glee. Wait, his heart? Where had it been? Had it been with God, and He so graciously gave it to her? His heart was never his own, but was the good Lord showing him where it was, with whom it stood? How beautiful she is, even as her hands gesture towards the children, her dress is divine, making her seem like one of His angels, sent down for me? Me? Could God really want me to love? Victor’s thoughts were broken by her soft voice once again.
“I did not mean to imply that I enter this school yard often, dear knight, I simply like spending time with the children. God has given them to us all, and I live out some dreams of mine by making them some good food and playing with them. As much as they learn dutifully from scholars like yourself, surely they need love and joy!”
“Are you insinuating that I am not a joyous person?” Victor asks with a light chuckle and a smile on his lips.
“Oh, dear no! You seem kind, and… quite sharp.” said the maiden as her cheeks flushed red and matched the complexion of Victor. Did I just call this dear man, handsome? A round-about manner, but still! What was I thinking, spilling words out of my mouth like that! She scolded herself internally. She had seen him before, and noted the way he cared for the youths. It showed just how much of a good father he would be. The other young ladies of the town threw themselves after him, wishing to God that they may be his wife, and he their husband. They would beg their fathers to reach out, to arrange a betrothal. His specific work was not known, and yet his air of mystery and wisdom was alluring to any woman; his honour, a sign of good character to any family. Yet, he showed no lust or took no advantage. His response to all such women was that God would guide him.
“I am sorry, I will be sure to leave soon so that you may return to your lesson!” said the maiden with a smile as she started to scurry off, holding her dress off the ground.
Victor called out, “Wait, dear maiden, what is your name?”
She stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly back, smiling at him. He asked my name! Oh, Lord, have you planned such an encounter? Calming herself, she replied:
“Isabella—Isabella of Nightingale Way.”
That moment of their first encounter was well-kept in Victor’s memory.
He slowly dragged the weight of his armour to the side of one of the main streets, where a cart awaited. There stood Geoffrey, a Dwarven armour-master who would collect it for study and research for future improvements.
“Victor-y, as I have always said. Did my cap and feather suit you well?” Geoffrey said with glee as his friend neared.
“Well enough, dear friend, well enough. Though, perhaps some improvements on the lower back would be worthwhile? I found that,” Victor stretched out his back with a groan, “I found that at times the strikes there hurt us more than we thought they would. Especially the cavalrymen, as the Cabal foot-soldiers are fond of striking those men from behind.”
“For one who never went into the battle, you know all about it somehow!”
“I watch from afar. I had a more important mission.”
“And your back?”
“Small complication, unit of foot-soldiers. This,” Victor said as one of his intricate gauntlets, fitted one to each forearm, released a dark silver blade from its own material, before retracting by his very will, “was useful, yes. I have it for a reason. But I still was struck quite hard on a fall from a fortunately short guard tower.”
“That sounds less than ideal, do you need me to get Kallen?” Kallen was a Mair medicinal healer in the Service.
“No, Geoffrey, no. A nice bath will do me well. I was a bit envious that someone else got to do that earlier,” Victor said with a slight smile.
“So I trust the Cabal commander had been asked a few questions before his long swim?”
“More than that, I managed to secure something,” said Victor as he placed a scroll on the cart.
Geoffrey opened and read the scroll, face in shock, “Great heavens, this is their battle plan! Not simply today alone, they have battery locations marked on it. Another several months, right in our hands Victor!”
“Yes, indeed.”
“They won the battle, Victor, because of you.”
“Well, they fought hard. They used their cards well.”
“You gave them good cards. Not many of them even know that. To them, you are an intelligence instrument.”
“The Service is not interested in public laurels. We work for something beyond wars alone.”
“I suppose so. God shall see us, I pray, and we shall bask in His light. Anyhow, I will take these to the shop, and leave the scroll to Humphrey.” Humphrey was Geoffrey’s brother, and worked on the weaponry of the Service. The battle plans included possible weapons and large scale armaments. This intelligence would be useful to him.
The Service itself was a network of intelligence scholars, healers, builders, warriors, and agents who would travel across the lands, collect information, and battle a war against evil in the shadows that not many would see. Some worked by their wit, and others by weathered blades—heroes unknown. On their own, or in smaller groups, their missions would be more dangerous and their names would not be sung if they passed. The truth and the morally right decision was worth more to them than their lives. To the world, they were simply a few sharp men, quieted by their vows. Their valour would almost always remain their own to know. Now, and forevermore.
“Thank you, my friend,” said Victor tiredly, as he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and kept walking on past the crowds. He looked back, one final time, to see the men slowly accompanying their wives and families back home. He suddenly heard the noise of some familiar anklets. Chim chim chim
A familiar sound, to be sure. Victor’s weary face slowly formed a tired smile, as he turned, a beautiful sight was cast upon his eyes. His wife was nearing him. Isabella’s hands were upon her housedress as she was daintily running to him. She slowed as she approached him, her sight catching him walking wearily and massaging his lower back and abdomen. Isabella walked to him, lifting her hands to his face. She thumbed his face, staring deeply into his eyes. Upon seeing his fatigue, she broke slightly, her tears starting to form. Her hands floated down to softly touch his abdomen and his sides, where he winced ever so slightly.
“My dear lord, what did they do to you?” She whispered as she began to shed a tear.
Victor raised his hands to wipe her tears away, and said, “I am blessed by our Heavenly Father, to carry knowledge and seek out evil where it sits, in its grand arrogance. I will not die, unless He wills it so. This is but a wound of the flesh, they heal by His Grace.”
“I know…” Isabella wiped her face and put her arm around Victor’s, helping him to a nearby cart.
“Please sit, please.” Her voice had a tinge of breaking within it. Victor noticed, but followed her words.
She sat next to him, and called for the driver, “Kind cartman, may we begin our way home?”
As the horses neighed and the cart began to move, Isabella grabbed Victor’s arm, leaning on his shoulder. After many days of not feeling his wife’s touch, Victor shuddered. His heart started beating in tune to hers, his pain released itself ever so slightly, and his manly regions began to energize—just as they did almost every time he thought of his dear wife. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the rhythmic movement of their journey home.
Thank you for reading Part 1 of Victor and Isabella’s story! I will continue the tale of this evening of theirs, as well further stories of theirs, in future sections. Please offer your kind comments and suggestions, for what future things I may write about the two of them, and what sort of adventures (both serious and erotic) they may go through together!
With Love,
SophTea
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