“Jim, no!” Winter had tried to yell as he'd disappeared, and she ran to the window, half disbelieving whether they could survive a fall from that height. Nevertheless, the beast had no sooner landed than it was chasing after Grodo on the dragon, and Winter's pulse thundered in her ear as she made her way to the stairway. She rushed down through the front door and out onto the grass, tearing her head around for any signs of the two men.
But they were already gone.
She stood there in the clearing, panting like a dog, praying that somehow the two men and their beasts might re-emerge from the forest again, whole and intact. Inwardly, she knew there likely wasn't a chance in hell...
In the woods beyond the castle, Jim's wolf leapt up repeatedly, nipping at the heels of the dragon as he soared effortlessly through the trees. Jim kept swinging his sword at Grodo and the beast, trying his damnedest to strike him, but every time his blade drew near the dragon lifted itself ever so slightly out of reach, confounding him.
“You coward!” Jim spat, growing frustrated.
This continued until they reached a clearing, at which point the pursuit took an unexpected turn. Grodo steered the dragon around in a circle, and a breathed a ring-shaped wall of fire over the undergrowth, trapping Jim and his wolf, leaving them looking around frantically for a direction to turn to.
As they were standing there, suddenly Grodo's dragon came dive-bombing toward him, Grodo's blade coming within inches of slicing Jim to pieces before he ducked just in time to avoid it. Jim snarled in frustration, and when he came back again he swung his own sword right back, aiming to kill. The clang of metal echoed across the forest, the fires surrounding Jim growing hotter and brighter by the moment. Even if the sinking of metal through flesh didn't kill him, the blaze surely would, and he knew he had to act fast if he wanted to save his skin and win back the hand of the woman he loved.
In desperation, Jim leapt from the wolf's back as Grodo's dragon came swooping down toward him once more. Grodo, not expecting this, was unable to stop Jim from jumping up and mounting the back of the dragon behind him, no matter how mightily he swung his sword to prevent it. Jim promptly began to swing his sword at Grodo at close proximity, his breath held, hoping in the back of his mind that, without his weight to encumber the poor creature, his wolf would be able to make it out of the blaze on his own.
With Grodo's attentions now focused wholly on the extermination of Jim Slush, there was no longer anyone steering the dragon, and he flew through the forest of his own accord, dodging trees as the two men fought it out tooth and nail on the expanse of his back. The men grunted and swung with the knowledge that their lives depended on it, their muscles bulging as they lunged repeatedly at one another, neither of them satisfied until the other was dead. Grodo was easily the more powerful of the two, but Jim's love and need for Winter filled him with a sword of relentless aggression, his movements fast and violent, determined to take out the man who'd stolen the woman he loved no matter what the cost. The terrain of the beast beneath them rocked unsteadily as their swords clanged repeatedly together in the night, their sweaty forms writhing and thrusting toward one another, and each of them with hatred in their eyes as the dragon beneath them made its way steadily back toward the clearing from which they'd first emerged.
Winter was still waiting on pins and needles outside the entrance of the castle, her heart in her throat. She'd spotted the blossoming of the orange glow from where the dragon had set the clearing ablaze, and she feared deep down that it might well have signified Jim Slush's demise.
Just as she was losing hope, however, the dragon emerged in a great, shadowy burst from the woods back onto the clearing, and with great relief she saw both Grodo and Jim Slush duking it out feverishly on its back. She called out at the top of her lungs, appealing to them once more to stop this fighting but it was clearly no use.
The dragon began to circle the castle as the men continued to fight upon its back, smashing their swords together and roaring like animals.
“She's mine!” said Grodo, pushing his entire weight into Jim in an effort to push him overboard.
“She's mine!” Jim snarled back, “Even though I respect the autonomy of women and believe that no man can ever literally possess her!”
“I also believe that!” Grodo shot back, “But she's mine!”
With a tremendous force of effort Grodo leaned his weight into the blade, knocking Jim backward off the back of the dragon, and Grodo himself toppling down shortly thereafter. Winter screamed as she watched the men go plummeting to the ground like ragdolls, certain they'd both just broken their backs. But instantly upon landing they'd both retrieved their swords and were back at one another, snarling and swinging the metal through the air, bound and determined to kill or die trying.
This wasn't happening... This wasn't happening... This wasn't happening...Winter thought, and the men rolled about on the grass, their muscular, sweaty, nearly naked bodies pressed so hard up against one another that neither of them could move.
Winter's eyes widened, and suddenly her breath caught. She felt terrible, but... There was something about this she was suddenly beginning to enjoy... Something almost homoerotic about it...
The men switched from swordplay to downright wrestling in the grass now, their limbs entwined. They lay their grunting, grinding, struggling with one another, the bulges in their crotches rubbing up against one another, and the friction causing them both to sprout involuntary hardons as they writhed in the grass. Their muscles bulged, the dim moonlight caused their skin to glisten...
And for the first time since she'd emerged from the castle, Winter realized that she was entirely naked. The panties she'd been wearing in bed with Grodo had fallen off of her in her speedy departure, and she stood, aroused, looking at these two nearly nude men wrestling it out in the grass, fighting for her...
Feeling terribly guilty, but unable to resist the temptation, she found her hand sliding down between her thighs, pressing her fingers inside, and she began to play with herself.
Jim was staring down with hatred into Grodo's eyes, trembling on top of him with his teeth bared. It was all he could do just to keep him in place, lighter than the man as he was, and both men reached with quivering hands for their swords nearby. Each knew that whoever made it to their weapons first would be the one to win the battle, and each did his damnedest to prevent the other from succeeding while simultaneously making a concerted effort to overpower the other and reach his own.
And then, from the corner of his eye, Jim saw something that diverted his attention. It was so surreal, so unexpected, that he became distracted, and had to turn to face the sight-Winter, completely naked, rubbing one off, as she watched the two men fighting to the death there in the grass in front of her. Jim furrowed an eyebrow at her, and Winter, alarmed at having been caught, hurriedly pulled her hand away, hiding it behind her back.
Jim saw her face turn red, then felt the terrible stab of Grodo's blade going clean through his body.
Winter screamed.
Grodo knocked Jim's weight from off of him, laughing victoriously, and Jim slumped to the ground in a heap, eyes still wide, and his consciousness fading fast. At just that moment his wolf emerged from the clearing, having escaped the dragon's circle of fire, and came rushing up, whinging at the sight of his master's fallen body.
Winter stared through wide, teary eyes, and it suddenly sank in for her how very much she'd thrown away in leaving Westerado.
“No... No... No...” she stammered, shaking her head, thinking this couldn't possibly be true.
But it was.
Grodo, standing nearby, gloated for a moment, satisfied, but then caught sight of Winter, who was more focused on mourning Jim's loss than she was on celebrating Grodo's victory. He stared, and thought, and his expression fell.
“Oh... I fucked up, didn't I?...”
Winter hurried over to Jim's fallen body, placing a hand on him, not afraid of the tremendous wolf standing guard o
ver him. She felt him, desperate for signs of life, but could tell in no time at all that he was no longer breathing.
“Oh God... No... No...”
She stooped down in the grass, head bowed, and began to weep.
Grodo stood there for a moment, anxious and uncertain. He swallowed hard and edged cautiously toward her, unsure of himself. “Winter I... I'm sorry...” he said, shaking his head.
Winter paused for a moment there in the grass, then stood up looking angry, her fists clenched.
“I didn't know...” Grodo added in desperation, hoping this might somehow save him. He stepped forward toward her, and Winter flinched backwards wanting nothing to do with him in any way shape or form.
“No... No... Stay away from me... Stay the hell away!”
Grodo tried to approach her more delicately this time, but already she was tearing away from the scene, marching toward the castle, and then running. She ran and ran, rushing up the stairs and slamming the door of Grodo's bedroom behind her, locking herself in.
What the hell had she done?
Chapter 5
Winter was home again. Back in Westerado, where she belonged. She'd learned a harsh and unpleasant lesson, and though the extra room in the marital bed was certainly welcome, it had come about in about the last possible way she might ever have wanted it. Now the thing that kept her awake was not a mourning of her independence, but the absence of Jim Slush's heat and love beside her, keeping her warm through the long night.
Her life felt empty now... She still had three other spouses, to be sure. But Jim, and Grodo, before murdering Jim, had both shared a certain special connection with her. One that she'd never quite found with any of the others.
She went about taking care of the duties that were expected of her, reigning over the four kingdoms with efficiency, if not enthusiasm. But inwardly she felt as though she had less freedom to choose her own life than ever before, and it felt as though things could be no other way than how they presently were. Trying to change this reality had resulted in the death of a man who'd truly loved her (technically it was his own jealousy that had gotten him killed, but still...)
She would simply have to get used to the life she was now living, and do the best she could not to complain.
She was sitting on the bed one afternoon, staring through the window vacantly. The others had all been worried about her, and had made attempts to help assuage her grief. Dargon had offered to take her out for a ride on his back over the grounds, remembering how very happy and excited it had made her when they'd first met. The thought of riding on a dragon, however, now made her think of Jim's death, and she politely, but firmly turned him down.
Glace had tried to relax her by giving her a massage after that, but his bulky hands had been so massive and indelicate that he'd ended up doing more damage to her spine than good. She'd thanked him anyway, and continued to sit their sulking, until at last Cissor came in, her bedside manor the most consoling of anyone's.
“The baby's kicking,” she said, holding Winter's hand up against her womb. Winter couldn't help but smile in spite of her grief, and she took a deep breath, feeling as though she'd been snapped out of a trance.
She still felt shitty though.
“I'm sorry for what happened to Jim,” said Cissor. “I could tell that you two had a special connection among us.”
“It's all my fault,” said Winter, shaking her head. “I had to go out and screw things up for us all... I had everything, and I went and threw it away.”
Cissor put a hand on Winter's own. “It's not your fault,” she said. “Every married woman gets an itch now and then. Why do you think I keep all of my old concubines around to ride my brains out? It's just sex... It doesn't mean I love any of you any less. The truth is, there's just no accounting for male jealousy. That's the reason for Jim's death, God rest his soul. I mean, they all slept with me even though they were married to you, and you didn't flip out and try to kill me over it. What kind of double standard is that?”
Winter shook her head. “Jim didn't... Jim didn't lay a hand on you until you were part of the family. He was faithful... He was a good man... And I killed him with my filthy lusts...” She sniffed, and Cissor rubbed her shoulder. The delicate touch felt soothing where Glace had previously come close to crushing the bones. “And anyway,” she continued, peering into the distance, “It wasn't even sex that made me do what I did... It was... A need to make my own decisions. It was pride. I let my own selfishness stand in the way of my own happiness, and Jim lost his life for it. What kind of a woman does that make me?”
“That makes you the kind of woman I fell in love with...” answered a sudden, unexpected, and honestly impossible voice sounding over from the doorway. Winter's eyes went wide.
“Jim... It-it can't be...”
Winter's head was spinning. She tried to make what sense of what she saw as the familiar visage of Jim Slush stepped through the doorway into the room, followed immediately behind by Grodo, who was looking satisfied to have surprised her in the way that he did by bringing a clearly revitalized dead man here.
“Winter...” said Jim, momentarily skipping over the need to explain his revival, “It took me being dead to realize what a fool I was, trying to stand between you and what makes you happy. Whether that's being here in Westerado, ruling over your kingdom with the four of us, or being with another man. But I really, truly love you. And I know maybe you need more than just me. But that doesn't mean I can't learn to... Well... To share, just a little bit better...”
He gave a meaningful glance to Grodo, who smiled at Jim, as all the while Winter was grappling with this new and wholly unexpected reality. She was clutching her forehead, and though she'd been standing upon Jim and Grodo's entry, she now had to take a seat back down upon the surface of the bed, trying to stabilize herself.
“I'm sorry, I... I don't understand...” she said, her vision blurring.
“Really?” asked Jim, as though what he'd been saying should have been completely self-evident. “What I mean is that, in spite of everything that's happened... Grodo and I have decided to put aside our differences... To kiss and make up...” He gave Winter a smoldering grin at this, and then, as though to prove his case, he turned to Grodo at his side. The two men, so very different, gazed into one another's eyes for a long moment. Then they slowly leaned into one another. Their mouths met, the flesh dissolving, their tongues bulging through the flesh of one another's cheeks. Winter's ears began to ring as she watched this, a million disparate thoughts spinning around in her head all at once.
“Dear God...” she heard Cissor muttering at her side in a reverent tone. Winter, needing something to keep herself grounded as this took place in front of her, turned to glance at the woman beside her on the bed. Cissor, however, proved less astonished by Jim Slush's apparent revival than she was by the sight of the two men going at in front of her, one hand on her right breast and caressing it, the other between her thighs, pressing up and down. Winter gave her a reprimanding glance, and Cissor paused for a moment, then shrugged at her in response, and continued to masturbate through her clothes.
Winter, knowing that the only way she was going to get any sort of answer was to keep digging with the two men, turned back to watch them finish their kiss. Their lips slowly separated, Jim and Grodo looking deep into one another's eyes, and clearly visible erections now pressing through the fabric of their clothes.
“See?” said Grodo, lifting up his hands, as though this explained everything.
“No... No, I... What I mean is... Jim... I saw you kill him... Right in front of me... With my own two eyes.”
“Yeeeeeeah,” said Grodo, “I'm sorry about that... I kind of let my temper get the better of me.”
“Yeah but... How is he... How is he now standing in my bedroom doorway?”
“Oh!” said Jim, as though it was now clear that this is what she'd been asking all along, and the answer had just been so obvious that he'd not thought to give c
larification. “Grodo here revived me.”
“Exactly,” said Grodo. “I saw how much you were affected by his demise, and I knew I needed to make it right.”
“But how? That's... That's... Impossible...”
Grodo furrowed an eyebrow at her, looking bemused. “What? No! Of course it's not! It's... You know...” He swirled his hands around through the air, as though looking for the right words, but he seemed hard-pressed to deliver any kind of more concrete explanation. “It's... Magic... And stuff...”
Winter considered this, looking at the floor. It didn't really make total sense to her-in some ways, it actually seemed like a pretty cheap trick. But, then again, here was Jim standing in front of her, made whole again, so it was hard to really dispute the fact.
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