“Do you know what the symbol on your flag represents?” he asked her.
She glanced at the sword piercing the moon on the New Svartálfar flag hanging above her bed’s mast. “It has been our flag since we arrived on this world.”
“That did not answer my question,” he said. “What does it stand for?”
Meridtila laughed and faced Serzax as he stood in front of the bed, his cock turning flaccid. “It is just a fucking picture of a sword stabbing the moon.”
“It is the mark of the Night Order,” he said. “That is the correct answer. Any elder dark elf should know that. Young dark elves would not know that, as they were born here, and not from their true world.”
Meridtila was young, fertile, and a fucking liar. Serzax’s seed was for two women, his dead wife, and Princess Averyl Autumnfall. Initially, his son Wylume was to have the honor of planting his seed in Averyl, but thanks to the Paladin killing his only son, Serzax had to do that job.
Serzax walked to his armor and coat lying on the carpeted floor. “Now, Meridtila, can we return to plotting a strategy to end this conflict?”
“Why the rush?”
He moved for his cuirass. “My son was killed because he failed to plan ahead.”
“By the Paladin, correct?”
“Yes.” He stopped reaching for the armor, his hand just an inch away from touching it. “Did my men tell you that, too?”
“No,” Meridtila said, stood from the bed, and grabbed a robe. She never tied it up, allowing her heavy and high breasts and white pussy hair to remain visible. “They told it to themselves. I merely had my men listen in and report to me.”
“The Paladin killed my boy, then took his soul crystal, denying me the experience points he had, along with his memories.” He curled his fists into a ball and squeezed. “I had the sentinels search the stars for the Paladin and the ship he escaped on for the past month. They came close a few times but failed to capture it.”
“If it will make you feel better,” Meridtila spoke softly. “I shall put out an all-points bulletin for the Paladin. If he is on this world and in our territory, we will bring him to you.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Well then.” Meridtila tied her robe. “I suppose we can begin planning this campaign.”
“Yes, let us.”
She had a planet to conquer and needed the help of the empire to do it. Serzax had a missing princess to take back and impregnate, and a crystal harvest to perform. And the elves of Alfheimr were ripe for the plucking.
Both light and dark elves, that was. But Meridtila did not need to know that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Guillaume Meadows outside Lumière City had grown calm in the aftermath of the people killer attack. The elves were free to explore the land to search for harvesting or mining points, bathe in the rivers nearby, visit the smaller towns to the south, and challenge the monsters that lurked to raise their levels. The many thanks Averyl had received on her way back home put a smile on her face. Her efforts seemed to have paid off. The elves had become less suspicious of her causing the chaos tormenting their world. They appreciated Averyl for doing her part to normalize their lives.
The journey from the volcanic lands in the Antoinette Mountains had taken half a day, as expected, since it took almost a whole day to chase their targets there. Rather, Remy chased their targets. Averyl and Pierre just followed along. Behind the trio were the people killers they killed, placed in chains, then resurrected to be brought to Lumière City to stand trial.
Remy and Pierre had disbanded the party when they approached Lumière City and pushed their captured outlaws toward the kingdom’s jails. Averyl took a brief detour to the nearby water spring. She removed her shoes and Flame Priestess’s Robe, making it fall to her bare feet, unveiling her porcelain naked skin, and dipped into the water for a quick bath. Once finished, she dried off, got dressed, and was free to return home, one she had left without telling anyone that she was leaving for an entire day.
She trotted to the city gate closest to Averyl’s chateau at the edge of the city, gave the guard standing watch a cheerful wave, and walked past. One guard studied Averyl curiously, head tilted to the right. It looked as if he saw something strange. Was it her? Did they forget Averyl had fairy wings on her back and kept her cherry red hair cut short intentionally?
“Ah, back again so soon?” The guard said to her.
Averyl stared up at the tall elven man as his golden armor reflected the morning sunlight. “Yes . . .?”
“I was not aware you had already left to regroup with your party,” said the guard.
She raised a cherry red eyebrow. “Regroup?”
“Aye, milady.”
Averyl shrugged off what they said and trotted into the city. The guard acted as if she had just returned, then left again to regroup with Remy and Pierre. The thing was, Averyl was with them the entire time. She would inquire more but the walking, fighting, and flying for the past day had tired her. There was a comfortable bed calling for her.
And as Asteria as her witness, she needed to lie down. During the fight at the people killers’ camp, Averyl had sworn she saw a fae who looked exactly like her. The difference was her lookalike was a level 3 Bard. Pierre and Remy never got a good glimpse at the fae Bard, leading Averyl to believe she was hallucinating. She had just left a scorching hot dungeon before that after all, not to mention spent the hours before that fighting and following Remy around. Then you had the reality corruption changing the world and writing its own rules. Nowadays, one could never be too sure what was real and not. The intelligent being controlling the system behind the corruption was always looking to conjure up some sort of new trickery—
Healing Assistance Needed – Quest Completed
Obtained: 1500 Experience Points
She had forgotten Remy gave that quest. Now that Averyl returned to the city, free of the chaos, she could complete it and collect the reward.
Averyl has attained level 18!
It was quite a pleasant reward, too.
Averyl arrived at her chateau, waved hello to the gardeners, and then passed into its front hall. She sighed in relief as she shut the front door behind—home sweet home. There were freshly laundered clothes on her bed waiting for her: a pink and light summer dress to be exact, nothing special like her Cleric robes. Marguerite was getting good at predicting Averyl’s arrival after a day’s worth of fighting. Averyl picked up the dress, stripped naked, moved to the dresser to change, the mirror reflecting her perky breasts and soft red hair between her legs. She stopped and looked down at Xanthe’s feather lying on the dresser where she left it.
Rather than getting dressed, Averyl smiled, tossed the summer dress aside, and grabbed Xanthe’s feather. She fell backward onto her bed, letting her wings spread out across the sheets, while angling the feather’s tip to her chest. Averyl brushed the feather down the valley between her breasts. She shut her eyes and flung her mind back to the night in Holt’s Inn on Faeheim, a world far away from this. Xanthe, during that night, had slipped her fingers inside Averyl, and moved them like she loved her. Averyl orgasmed all over Xanthe’s fingers instantly.
The feather Averyl held neared her navel. Its soft touch sent trembles through her waist and between her thighs. She imagined that Rain was touching her, a servant Averyl had an affair with back home in the imperial castle. Rain’s fingertips and tongue were incredible. She had trained the young servant well.
Averyl moaned softly and spread her legs. She reached past the red fuzz with her free hand and lowered it to the pink, damp slit, eagerly waiting for tender fingers to spread it open. Averyl did just that, stuck two fingers inside, toyed around for a bit, and then rubbed her clit in a clockwise motion. She used the feather’s tip to tickle her hardened left nipple—
Someone opened her bedroom door.
“Oh, milady!”
Averyl sat up to see Marguerite standing before the door and a pile of laund
ry that had fallen to the maid’s black high-heeled shoes. She relaxed her wings and smiled warmly at Marguerite.
“No need to apologize, Marguerite,” Averyl said, stood from her bed, and walked to Marguerite. “And you know it.”
“I . . . I.” Marguerite turned aside, trying and failing to hide her flushed cheeks. “I heard you returned. I . . . just. Umm, wanted to know what I should prepare for lunch.”
Averyl spread her fairy wings, leaped, and glided across the opened space to the skittish elven maid. As Averyl landed on the floor, she embraced Marguerite from behind while resting her chin on her shoulder. Averyl felt her breasts squish on the fabric of Marguerite’s black and white maid uniform, her mind unable to erase the thought of Xanthe and Rain.
Marguerite gasped. “Oh.”
“You are still here, Marguerite.”
“Yes, I uh.”
“Shush.” Averyl blew into Marguerite’s pointed ears. “Not another word. I know why you came to me.” She cupped Marguerite’s right breast and groped it. The maid moaned. “And I know why you selected the summer dress for me to wear. Not that I am wearing it.”
She released the maid from her trap and stood back. Marguerite shyly faced Averyl and did not leave. How could she when she saw Averyl with no clothes on and holding Xanthe’s feather, cocking it in a come-hither motion? Averyl tickled Marguerite’s left cheek with the feather, further reddening it and breaking Marguerite’s will to resist. Averyl pushed Marguerite to the wall, placed her left palm on the wall beside the maid’s head, and slipped her right hand up Marguerite’s skirt. She touched Marguerite’s lace panties, pulled them aside, and found her soft blonde pubic hair decorating a pink and wet fold throbbing in anticipation. Averyl buried her index finger inside Marguerite. It was warm and moist. She kissed her with an opened mouth, felt her tongue lick hers, and then returned the favor. Averyl pulled away, kissed Marguerite’s neck, her cheek, and inched her lips to her pointed ears, finishing by licking the tip.
Down below, Averyl slipped her index and middle finger deep inside the maid, and moved the double-digits in and out, in and out, in and out. Marguerite melted over Averyl’s fingers. Averyl refused to stop. She wanted Marguerite to lubricate her whole pleasuring hand. Marguerite’s knees gave out. Averyl pushed Marguerite to the bed, then climbed over her. She held Marguerite’s maid skirt and pulled it up, unveiling the black lace panties. Averyl slid Marguerite’s panties down her legs, past her black stockings, and past her heeled shoes. She smiled at Marguerite’s swollen labia, licked it up and down, and teased the clit with her tongue’s wet tip.
Marguerite squealed, wiggled her hips, and tightly clenched the bedsheets below.
Averyl pulled away and wiped her lips clean to speak. “Let us lose the dress, shall we?”
Marguerite obeyed, pulled off her uniform, leaving her wearing nothing but a black lingerie set, sans the panties. Those had ended up on the floor beside the bed. Averyl returned to her task and crawled over to Marguerite. Her wings blossomed as if she were ready to take flight. Instead of flying, Averyl buried her face between Marguerite’s legs, spreading her opening as wide as she could to see how wet the pink hole was. It shined when the sunlight hit. Averyl opened her mouth slowly, stuck out her tongue and glided its tip on Marguerite’s clit as she held the maid’s waist. Marguerite breathed heavily, like she had been out for a run. Then her panting stopped, and her body stiffened. Marguerite squealed and collapsed backward.
When she was down on the bed, Averyl grabbed and spun the maid over and reached for Marguerite’s black lace bra strap. Her nimble fingers unhooked it, freeing Marguerite’s bountiful breasts to press against the sheets. The bra ended up on the floor beside the bed as Averyl retrieved Xanthe’s feather and brushed it down the spine grooves of Marguerite’s back. Marguerite squealed, and her vagina pulsed and dripped, dampening the bedsheet below. The power of Xanthe’s feather was incredible.
Now, it was Averyl’s turn to experience the pleasure only a woman could give her. She waited for Marguerite to finish coming, flipped the maid on her back, and laid over her. Averyl angled her vagina with Marguerite’s, lowered and rubbed her vulva with the maid’s, grinding against her aggressively.
Averyl felt no guilt for the debauchery she took part in. Rain was gone. Xanthe was gone. All the women she loved were gone. This was a new start for the runaway fae princess. And she made no plans to get serious with Marguerite or the other maids she brought to her bed. It was not worth the risk. Asteria always took them away from her.
Averyl increased her hip’s speed, intensifying the pleasure from their vulva-to-vulva act, blonde and red fuzz brushing against each other in the process. She was about to explode. Marguerite grabbed Averyl’s right breast and circled the small pink areola with her thumb. This was the work of Xanthe’s feather. Its power was strange. The affliction changed the feather. That much, she could tell. Each time Averyl touched the maid with it, something incredible happened.
Marguerite squealed, and this time, Averyl did so with her. Her autumn fairy wings uncontrollably flapped for three seconds as she came all over Marguerite’s opening. Their ecstasy moans were heard in every room in the chateau.
Afterward, the two avoided the wet circles on the bedsheet and laid beside each other, their nipples facing the ceiling as their chests moved up and down to catch their breath. With a bright grin, Averyl and Marguerite held hands, rolled on their side, then engaged in a long passionate kiss—
A knock on a door echoed. It sounded like it came from the lower level, likely the front door.
Marguerite pulled from the kiss. “I should get that.”
“You do not have to.”
“I should also return to my duties.”
The maid left Averyl alone in the bed, retrieved her panties, and slipped them up. Averyl moved to sit at the edge of the bed, dangling her legs as she watched Marguerite get dressed. She spread her legs slightly to entice the maid to come back to them. Marguerite stared at the naked pixie seated at the bed’s edge and looked away. She doubled-checked her appearance in the mirror, fixed her blonde hair that had become a bit of a mess, then left to answer the front door.
Marguerite was such a hard and loyal working woman, and it would keep her alone if she kept it up. The elven maid was no different from the servants Averyl pleasured back home. Servants had no life outside of their work and spent countless nights alone, maybe even weeping. The only time those girls smiled was when Averyl ordered them to take the night off and spend it with her.
And that is why father hates you . . .
And now, the orders of her father were putting the lives of the light elves in danger.
Averyl picked up Xanthe’s feather and studied it closely. A screen appeared above it, and she leaned closer to read it.
Shadow Angel Pinion
A single feather from a shadow angel. It is believed magic within it can entice people to pursue their deepest desires and commit lewd acts. Alchemy ingredient.
Useable by: Land-dwellers and Star-dwellers
The corruption changed it. It never had information like that when she arrived.
High-heeled footsteps clicked up the stairs, down the hall, and stopped at Averyl’s room. Marguerite had returned, hopefully to continue their fun.
“Milady,” Marguerite said.
Averyl winced. It did not sound like she returned for that. “What is it?”
“There are visitors who wish to speak with you.”
She gasped. Averyl was sitting naked on the bed and now had guests in the chateau. She got dressed, then checked her appearance in the mirror, like Marguerite did. Her short hair was fine, and Averyl dashed downstairs, hoping the visitors did not wonder what the delay was. Hoping they did not smell the scent of sex on her.
Marguerite had sat the visitors in the chateau’s study, an expansive room covered with bookshelves and leather sofas to sit on. One visitor was a human woman wearing Autumnfall imperial armor, curved to fit th
e shape of her body and voluptuous chest. The axe on her back, also from Autumnfall, suggested she was a Berserker. And she loved to read books, judging by the leaping cheers she made when she saw them.
Averyl moved to the other visitors seated in the chair and studied their classes. A Paladin was among them, a star-human swordsman wearing a black trench coat. She had never seen a Paladin before. Averyl would ask him more about the class if he were not . . . human. She looked at them strangely.
“Hello,” Averyl said, drawing all glares to her. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember us?” The Paladin said to her.
“No, should I?”
Marguerite invited a second person into the chateau, and she stepped aside to allow them to enter.
It was Xanthe.
“Xanthe!” Averyl yelled and ran to leap into the shadow angel’s arms. “Praise be to Asteria. You are alive!”
The two shared a long embrace. Marguerite looked away, wincing.
Xanthe ended the embrace to address the seated guests. “This is our Averyl. The one we found was the fake, no doubt about it now.”
Averyl took a step back. “A fake?”
Xanthe grunted and peered at Averyl differently, then shifted her gaze to Marguerite, giving the maid a long, hard stare. The shadow angel knew what Averyl and Marguerite were up to minutes earlier. Xanthe’s senses picked up on the scent of female, female intimacy.
“There’s another fae on this world who looks just like you,” the Paladin said. “She tricked us into thinking she was you.”
Another fae who looks like me? Averyl faced the tiled floor as she thought back to the last battle with the people killers. “It was no vision then . . .”
“Hmm? What vision?” Xanthe asked.
“I think I may have encountered the double recently,” Averyl said. “If you do not mind, please stay for lunch. Marguerite will serve it in a few hours. Something tells me we have many important stories to exchange.”
Mirror Princess: A LitRPG Space Fantasy (Sword of Asteria Book 2) Page 20
