selenesokal
patreon
Their Darker Sides (9/7)
🕑 Added 2021-08-31 22:32:50 +0000 UTC(Context for Patrons who might appreciate it: this is Chapter 2 of a Fire Emblem: Awakening fic)
The early morning sun was bright, the day was promising, and Morgan was resolved to make the absolute most of it. Striding through the camp, she saw the bleary-eyed soldiers at the end of the early watch raise tired salutes to her—which she always insisted that they didn’t owe her, being only the daughter of the army’s tactician—and made her way to her destination.
Strategy and tactics were more than just a brilliant mind. A chessmaster had a grasp of both, but on a real battlefield, they’d gladly sacrifice all their brilliance just for a voice that could carry over the din or to have spent the sweat of making sure the army had been properly supplied. Detail-oriented meticulousness meant nothing when you had eight pawns, two knights, bishops, and rooks, a queen and a king—they were all the same no matter what. But making sure the actual knights had properly shod horses meant a willingness to supervise the stabling. Making sure that baggage wasn’t misplaced meant reviewing the inventory. Having an army at all meant having the resources, the infrastructure, to keep it moving. And all of it meant logistics.
And logistics meant mules.
Lots and lots of dirty, stinking, ill-tempered mules, but they were the backbone of the supply train, the real might of any army. Yes, a good sword arm or the keen mind of a skilled mage were essential to winning battles, but wars were won by logistics and supply. They could march further, faster, and more stealthily if they could manage their supply, and in a long campaign like this, tactics always came second to strategy. Checking on the mules might be a job most generals saw as beneath them, but all the brilliance in the world wouldn’t haul a cart further than a good mule.
She felt… she felt a twinge of remembrance at that, an echo of her father’s words in her mind.
“You’re quite the dutiful young woman,” the voice of Cordelia sprang up behind her. “I hadn’t expected someone to beat me to checking on the mules.”
She laughed, appreciating the compliment. “Well, armies are run by logistics, and that’s where discipline counts!”
“Yes, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the Pegasus Knight mused, “I daresay… have you ever noticed we have quite a few similarities?”
Oh no.
Morgan knew where this was going.
These conversations were the most awkward things imaginable. She knew her unknown parentage would be the subject of some gossip around the camp, the kind of mystery that would intrigue the troops, finding open discussion and speculation to be a good way to pass the downtime, but what Morgan hadn’t expected was how much that speculation would come in the form of suggestions. Women clearly trying to use a possible maternal connection as a means to get closer to her father. Some, like Cordelia, suggested hints of ancestry, a particular part of her look or personality that implied that they were part of her father’s destiny. Or others would try to “mother” her, something made even more awkward when it slowly clicked that they thought Morgan was the key to Father’s heart.
And there were so many of them! It seemed like half the camp had amorous intentions towards her father. Tharja, at least, skipped right past the innuendo and openly offered to bribe her with secret knowledge… and then threw in a bagful of candy as her Plan B—her knowledge of persuasion was not her strong suit—to lie and claim that she was her mother. It was interesting that she immediately deduced that Morgan couldn’t actually be her child, though Morgan really did not want to know how, but… it did intrigue her.
But with the rest of the women… the problem was, and they didn’t realize, had no idea of it, but what they were doing was clearly showing Morgan that they didn’t really see her as a possible daughter, but a ticket to get with an eligible bachelor. Something that added insult to injury, because the last thing Morgan wanted to be thinking about was her father’s love life!
So she was feeling a little peevish towards the Pegasus Knight as she joined the long list of women who wanted Morgan for a daughter. Flattering, but knowing Severa, the discovery of being her secret sister would not be well received.
“Discipline is...” she attempted to defuse it diplomatically, “I guess it was just something my father raised me to prioritize.”
Immediately, as soon as she said it, Morgan realized that she’d made a huge mistake.
Because she just implied that Cordelia and her father had shared values, something that happened to be true about her father and everyone in the Shepherds, but the sparkle in Cordelia’s eye told Morgan to anticipate a “home-cooked” dinner brought to her father’s tent, along with some unbearably blatant flirting.
“Well, that’s...” Cordelia said, her mind already putting together the menu, “That’s a very excellent way to raise a girl… And you really have no idea who your mother is?”
Morgan, still trying to politely deflect the issue, attempted to deflect. “Amnesia seems to run in my family, unfortunately. But,” feeling a little twinge of impishness coming to her, Morgan decided to instead, take it head on, “There is one reminder I have of my mother, though I keep it buried in a safe place rather than risking it on me...”
Cordelia’s eyes went wide, two warring emotions deeply suppressed on her face, but not enough for Morgan’s keen and perceptive eye. On the one hand, she greedily jumped on the opportunity that, perhaps, like with Severa, her future self had given her other daughter a trinket to remember her by… and prove her destiny to bear one of Robin’s children. On the other, there was a barely repressed fury at whichever bitch stole her chance. It was cruel to lie with both emotions so aroused, but Morgan really wasn’t in a mood to be gentle with yet another hussy making a move on her father.
“Yes,” she said, struggling not to laugh, “It was a locket belonging to her, carrying a small picture of my father and I, and written on it...” she drew it out, knowing her audience was hooked, “is words in a script I don’t recognize… it’s like nothing on this content, though I admit, I’m not familiar with all of the Valmish scripts.”
Seeing Cordelia’s face sink in response to seeing her door close made Morgan briefly feel a twinge of guilt. But she needed to get these women to move on and stop being so weird around her dad! At least, with this method, it directed any jealousy Cordelia might have towards the future Mrs. Robin away from anyone in the army.
...maybe a little towards Cherche, but Rosanne used the same alphabet as they did in Ylisse. So it left a vast swath of unmet women who it could actually be, while sparing Morgan with having to deal with the cloud of unmarried women looking to use her as a foothold to worm their way into her father’s heart. And a small lie was easily worth that.
LINE BREAK OLIVIA
And 1-2-3, and 1-2-3, and step and pivot and bow and-
“Olivia.”
HEART ATTACK!
Olivia toppled from what should have been a pirouette, landing hard on the ground. She wasn’t normally so skittish, she’d made some great strides in learning how to comport herself with confidence, but… but Tharja made everyone jump.
She was terrifying! Before it even came to the hexes and possible soul-stealing and ability to just materialize out of the darkness, she just… just had an air of unease around her, like wherever she stepped there was a miasma of unsettling possibility. Or how her eyes seemed to read a girl’s very soul. Particularly if she thought a girl would come between her and her obsession with the army’s tactician...
“I-is there s-something you need, Tharja?” she said, then hastily added, “I d-don’t know where Robin is, I s-swear!”
“I am not looking for Robin.”
Her reply was given so directly that Olivia didn’t doubt it, even though it was a thing very unlikely to be true. “You… you’re not?” she asked, a foolish gesture that only invited Tharja to continue talking to her.
“As a married woman, it would be inappropriate if I spent so much time alone with an unmarried man,” she explained. “People might spread rumors.”
Olivia… did not expect that “rumors“ were something Tharja cared about. Considering the ones already swirling around the dark mage, Olivia assumed she had a tougher skin than most… or perhaps it was just that she took matrimony unexpectedly seriously.
“So… why are you looking to speak with me?”
Tharja gave her a raised eyebrow. “Was it not obvious? I thought we could talk. Of all the women in the camp, the two of us are the most alike.”
That made Olivia’s eyes shoot open wide, alarmed by whatever it was Tharja recognized in her.
“I- I don’t know what you mean!”
But Tharja, of course, wasn’t going to read her obvious feelings about it as she bluntly continued, “It is simple: though expressed differently, you share my obsession with Robin.”
“I- that’s not- it’s absolutely not-” Olivia choked out her protests, knowing that the harder she tried to deny it, the more obviously she was failing. “It would be inappropriate to-”
“On his birthday, you performed a dance for him that filled my heart with the darkest fury and nearly compelled me to hex you into a toad. However, I decided otherwise and then married my husband, and now there is no reason for me to feel any jealousy on the matter.”
Olivia froze. Not just that Tharja knew (of course she knew) about the dance she’d performed for Robin, but just… thinking about that dance...
The dance had been… uncommonly daring for her. Some of her dancing was more salacious than others, she was an entertainer and knew what her audience desired, but for Robin… it had crossed the line from shy revelation of her body’s best features into outright eroticism. A strip tease turned to a lap dance turned to...
She had him. She absolutely had him, poised to kiss him on the lips and reveal that she had another goal in mind in giving him this birthday gift, to have him reciprocate and show the feelings he had for her obviously tenting in his pants. And maybe those feelings were only for her body, that didn’t matter. She’d start with that and then build from there.
But she lost her nerve. At the last moment, she lost her nerve.
And… and not long after that, that door closed on her forever when Inigo came into her life and revealed that, in his future, she married another. But sometimes she wondered…
No, no she didn’t. She did not wonder! Not at all!
Virion was… well, she married a Duke! Even if a disgraced, penniless, and generally disreputable one, he was still a Duke. For a girl like her, marrying into aristocracy was a dream come true!
...wasn’t it?
It was so strange. Meeting Inigo, hearing his story and seeing the dance he had hoped to have the chance to have shown her… it all moved her to tears. Her son… her beautiful son, she had a son! Even if he was, effectively, her own age, and she’d never known him a day before today, but the resemblance was there and her heart sang to see him. But when he told her about his father, both she and Virion had been… if anything, disbelieving. They were too polite to say it, of course, and especially not around Inigo, but she remembered the look they exchanged one night after having dinner with Inigo. A brief, mutual, “Do you really think we’re together in the future?” glimpse that she felt they were about to say out loud… but neither really had the courage for it.
Maybe something happened, in the timeline Inigo was born from, where they met each other under different circumstances, where she found a reason to find him charming and he found a reason to find her… Duchess material. Something other than their son from the future telling them that they would have a relationship before they even had one. But whatever that was, their future selves hadn’t told the story to Inigo. Which was strange to Olivia—she felt that the story of how she and her husband first fell in love would be something she’d love to tell and tell often. Like, if he was Robin’s son, she’d tell him-
Olivia suddenly went pale, realizing how her mind had already conjured not only a reminder of the time spent talking to him, revealing her secret dreams of owning her own theater and her willingness to do whatever it took to fulfill her dream… but her mind also conjured up another image. An image of her bouncing a child on her knee, telling him all about how Mommy and Daddy first met...
...and she also realized that Tharja was watching her this whole time, her eyes clearly conveying that she was reading her mind, something Olivia had heard suggested by camp gossip. And also, it looked like Tharja wasn’t impressed by what she saw.
“I don’t… I don’t have an obsession with Robin...” she meekly protested.
In vain.
“Well, in my experience,” Tharja said, breezing right past it, “the best way to get over an obsession with Robin is to simply marry the man you’re destined to marry and to move forward with your life.”
Olivia stared at the dark mage. It was… blunt. And worryingly in tune with what Olivia was already thinking about, lending credence to Anna’s claims that Tharja stole hair and loose clothing so she could read people’s souls. But at the same time…
“Did it… did it help you?” she asked, not liking that she admitted to having an obsession with Robin, but at the same time… if this could cure Tharja, it could cure anyone.
Tharja smiled, which seemed… unsettling, but it might just be more of Tharja than anything Olivia could read into. “Nothing has improved my life more than my marriage. Ever since marrying Gaius, my life has become...” her words trailed off as Tharja’s smile turned dreamy and wistful… which was still creepy, to say the least.
“Can I ask,” Olivia nervously ventured, “for you and Gaius… he’s not someone you expected to find yourself with, but how did you… make it work?”
Tharja just chuckled. “I think you’ll find that there are those we are destined to be with,” she said, “no matter what route we take to get to them. But go through with your wedding and you’ll find that fate guides us to where we’re supposed to be...”
Well, that was an ominous way to say-
“Oh, and Robin will be your wedding planner.”
“WHAT?” she asked, briefly choking on her words as she was caught entirely off guard by Tharja’s suggestion.
“He’s really quite enthusiastic for the task, and you’ll find he has a knack for organizational matters. And you’ll be working very closely with him, which I particularly enjoyed.”
“I thought- I thought-” Olivia continued to choke on her words, “I thought the whole point of you coming to speak to me was that it was inappropriate for a married woman to spend so much time with an unmarried man!”
“But you won’t be married,” she deadpanned, “Not until the wedding is over. So I’ll go notify Robin that he should begin preparing for your nuptials.”
Tharja smiled at her very creepily as she left, but like every smile Tharja had shown… well, that’s just how her interactions with the witch usually ended, so it wasn’t like Olivia could read much into it. So instead, she thought about the subject of their discussion…
Robin…
LINE BREAK ROBIN
Wedding planning. Robin never would have guessed that he’d find it so invigorating. There was a great, central plan that needed to be created with the concerns of numerous, oftentimes fickle and easily slighted, allies in mind, where there were an endless list of unanticipated crises that needed to be headed off as quickly as possible. He had the authority of the bride to wield like a scepter and the help of anyone he needed to pressgang into it. It was exhilarating, in the way a well-fought battle was, but it never ran the risk of anyone dying… well, it mostly didn’t. So far.
And it… briefly took his mind off of the moral ramifications of what he was doing. Virion was… not exactly his favorite person in the world, but for all his personal quirks, he was a Shepherd. He’d fought alongside them and offered himself for their cause. And, like all of them, had would have his wife seduced away from him. No matter how many times Tharja presented her list of “Obvious Male Deficiencies” she kept for every single one of them, Robin couldn’t see himself as anything but the villain in the story. If anything, Tharja’s list made it worse.
But last night, after he and Tharja had finished an energetic session in the woods, lying on a blanket besides her under the stars, seeing her naked body illuminated by the silvery moonlight, a reminder that Robin didn’t care if he was a villain, she’d turned to him and whispered, in that gentle compassionate voice that only he got to hear, about how badly Olivia desired him. How much she adored him, how he would be making all of her dreams come true once he answered her ardor.
And he couldn’t deny it. It was very obviously true.
They’d been working very closely for a while now, much more closely than Robin typically worked with any individual Shepherd who wasn’t command staff, and now that Tharja had taught Robin to notice when women had feelings for him… it was very clear that Olivia had feelings for him. Strong feelings, feelings that only got stronger the more time she spent alone with him.
A few days ago, he’d offered her various cakes for tasting, and as he passed forkfuls of cake to her, it dawned on him too late that their motions had stopped being him eager to share cake with her and started becoming… intimate. The way her tongue swirled around his fork, the way he tenderly presented the bites of cake to her… it was extremely suggestive. And he didn’t stop it. Even when Olivia gave a soft moan as she tasted the final cake, Robin knew that he wanted this, that he wanted her, and he wasn’t going to stop.
And then Tharja had started getting “close” to Olivia. On that, Robin did have objections, but he had no idea how to stop it without tipping his hand that something more was going on between him and Gaius’s wife… and that he was planning something more with Virion’s bride-to-be. But he knew that this was something no good could come from.
Well, he’d have to deal with that however it developed. Right now, he would be helping Olivia choose a wedding dress and-
Oh.
Oh.
Stepping into Olivia’s room, Robin’s jaw dropped.
“That’s… that’s not a wedding dress...” Robin replied, stupidly.
“No,” she said, softly, “It’s not.”
It… really wasn’t. It was white and lacy, yes, but… but it didn’t cover nearly anything a wedding dress should. The bust was so sheer as to be see-through, a pattern of white roses covering enough for some modesty, but certainly not much more as it led down to a lacy “skirt” that did nothing to hide the flimsy white panties or the dark wet spot that he immediately recognized.
Robin remained gaping as he took in Olivia’s curves on full display. She was a woman who could give Tharja’s voluptuous figure a run for its money, and right now, she was making sure Robin was wholly aware of it. Stepping forward with a roll to her hips that let her whole body sway seductively, she walked with a dominant confidence Robin had never seen before, and he couldn’t deny how hot it was.
“Hi Robin,” she said, “Do you like it?”
Trying to rally some sense in his head, trying to remember that he was seducing her. Trying many things. None of them working.
“Tharja was wrong,” she exhaled, “Marrying Virion… it will only make me want you more. And she… she would know.”
Robin paused, realizing that this was a critical moment. She knew about him and Tharja, she knew about what he intended with her, and he needed to take charge. So he squared his footing, opened his mouth and…
And completely got distracted as Olivia took one step that showed how her breasts just… jiggled in her lingerie and Robin’s brain didn’t have enough blood to be thinking about what to say.
“She wasn’t subtle, was she?” Oliva asked, knowing her body gave her captive audience for her monologue, “That fate would lead me to who I belonged with… but it’s you. It’s always been you, and Tharja sent me to you to plan my wedding so I’d know it’s you, not Virion. It had never been Virion… and Inigo’s the proof, isn’t he?”
Robin blinked. Tharja figuring out the children’s heritages, he understood. But how did Olivia-
“He takes after you,” she said, answering his question, “It’s subtle, but it’s there… the little things, the things most people miss, but he takes after you just like how Noire takes after you. Because they’re your children… you naughty, naughty boy...”
By now, she was so close to him, he could practically touch her, cup her full, supple breasts, wrap his lips around her nipple, sink his fingers into her plush ass… but the sudden chuckle of mock reproach in her voice reminded Robin that Olivia was on to his philandering. And even though she presented herself, gift wrapped in lingerie, he didn’t know how she’d take such a suggestion.
But really, he already knew the future.
“I know why she does it…” she said, “Sneaking around, marrying a man to make her love forbidden… It’s so much hotter this way. For you… and for me.”
She placed a hand on his chest and pushed. Little more than a feather touch, but it was enough to knock Robin into a chair. And as he was seated, Olivia put her hands behind her head, thrust out her chest, and began to gyrate her hips, the first moves of a dance he couldn’t imagine her using for the troops!
He opened his mouth, only for Olivia to turn around, jutting her round, panty-clad ass in his face and let it roll, raising her cheeks up and down, up and down, in a hypnotic pattern that left Robin completely at a loss for words until she picked up the pace, suddenly moving to an aggressive twerk as she bounced her cheeks while backing on up into him. Before Robin could even get used to that, she spun around and dropped right into his lap, throwing an arm around his neck and pressing his face right into her chest.
Olivia’s dancing was graceful, beautiful, and artistic, imbued with the power to energize all those who beheld her dance. But this… this was different. Pure lewd intent, eroticism, and a willingness to display her body’s nimble flexibility as much as her curvaceous figure. Robin had gotten a taste of Olivia’s more exotic dancing for his birthday, but now, his face pressed between her boobs, her hips grinding against his groin, and all of it going to the rhythm of an inaudible beat that was driving Robin crazy.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned as Olivia put a hand to the back of his head and made sure he enjoyed her cleavage. “Fuck, Olivia...”
“Yes...” she moaned, “Say my name, Robin, say my name!”
“Olivia!” he shouted, his voice muffled by her tits as she rubbed her chest against his face.
“Yes!” she cried, “Oh Naga, it’s so- so hot to know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I don’t- I don’t CARE!”
Rising up on him, Robin briefly objected to having his face withdrawn from between Olivia’s breasts, but now he could see that Olivia’s lingerie had fallen away, and now her tits hung out, uncovered, two frosty pink nipples topping her glorious, pale orbs, defying gravity with their heavenly power.
Olivia giggled. “You never told me if you liked my lingerie...”
“I think I like it better off...” he murmured, more on autopilot than anything, as he finally rallied his senses. Flashing a roguish grin at the half-naked dancer, Robin added, “And here I was thinking I was seducing you...”
She sighed, “You already have...” Her fingers delicately traced down to nimbly undo his belt and free Robin’s very hard dick from its confines. “You’ve been seducing me since the day we met. You’re so...” she began to gracefully wrap those fingers around his cock and slowly started to stroke him, up and down, “caring and compassionate and attentive… you’re like no man I’ve ever met before. Someone I could share all my hopes and dreams with, someone I could confide my fears in. Of course I fell for you… just like all the rest of the girls.”
Robin raised an eyebrow at the last line. She’d punctuated it with a sudden, soft squeeze that suggested… “You don’t have a problem with that?” he asked, carefully trying to make sure he didn’t fumble this opportunity.
Olivia gave him a teasing smile. “Well, Tharja isn’t exactly my cup of tea, but if a girl was that into you… and that curvy,” she added a playful jiggle of her own with that, “I can’t blame you for enjoying her. And since she’s so gracious in sharing you, it’d be wrong for me to try to monopolize you.”
Smirking, Robin eased back in his seat as Olivia moved forward. “How very mature of you,” he chuckled.
“And I might not mind sharing you with some girls...”
Before he could ask what she meant, Olivia plunged down upon his shaft with sudden and dextrous speed. Robin sucked in his breath as he felt the walls of Olvia’s pussy close around him, the soft embrace of her slit catching him off guard as she slowly descended to take him all within her. And then…
She began to ride him.
Robin groaned. Olivia’s eyes sparkled with a wild and primal joy as she began to work his pole with an agility and skill that blew him away.
“I’ve- ha- learned a few tricks in my time!” she bragged, bouncing up and down upon him. Robin loved Tharja and very much enjoyed having sex with her, but she was very much a virgin before him. Olivia was experienced, and he struggled to compose himself as she aggressively milked him for his cum.
A sudden twist in her hips made Robin’s eyes go wide. She was- Naga, she was good! She was as much an artist in this as she was a dancer, and Robin felt a stab of envy that Virion would get to claim her as his bride… but he’d be the one who truly had her.
“You like that?” she panted, a challenging gleam coming to her eyes, “How do I- ha- How do I compare to Tharja?”
Groaning again, Robin struggled out, “You know I can’t- oh- can’t compare you two!”
How could he? Tharja’s wild and absolute devotion was a magical thing to experience in the bedroom, her single-minded purpose in bringing him pleasure was what awakened Robin’s all-consuming desire for women. She was dark and mysterious and powerfully sexual, but Robin was also invited to see her tender side. But Olivia… Olivia was a master of using her body to evoke eroticism and desire. Even now, her tits shaking in his face, her hips bouncing on his cock, her warm, wet snatch just swallowing his dick… oh, how could he compare them, how could he compare!
But Olivia didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. She gave him a self-satisfied smirk, a suggestion that she knew what he couldn’t say. Except, in doing so… she had roused Robin’s own competitive side. He was not about to let Olivia get the upper hand here, not after she’d been the one who had moved to seduce him. And if she thought she would be able to wrap him around her finger the way her pussy was wrapped around his cock...
Robin decided to show Olivia that he’d learned quite a bit with Tharja. He was a tactician, and knew how to respond to the evidence before him and not merely rest on his laurels. He could hear where Olivia was most responsive, see where she felt his thrusts more powerfully, and learning from that, he began to buck his hips right into the woman straddling him now, catching her off guard and making her cry out, “Oh! R-Robin!”
Not enough. He caught her hands with his, knowing Olivia’s deeply romantic side as he let her slender fingers interlace with his, seeing how she bit her lip to suppress a moan as he held her hands, inviting her to admit what she really wanted. Her eyes rolled, the sign of a climax fast approaching, as Robin refused to slow down until...
“OHHHHH RAWWWWWBBBBIIIIN!”
Robin could feel her convulse around him as she squealed out her orgasm, but she wasn’t finished. She leaned forward, her eyes alight with wild desire, all attempts to be the controlled seductress lost in her urgent need. “Give- give me a baby!” she squealed as she continued to bounce on Robin’s dick, all sense of rhythm lost as her fingers tightened between his. She clearly felt his climax building, knew the object of her true desire was close. “Give me- give me- gimme, gimme, GIMME!”
Robin couldn’t hold back any longer as he gasped out, “Olivia!” and began to shudder and buck as his cock spurted into her. His hips jerked as he shot rope after rope of cum into her pussy, deep into her womb, as Olivia squeezed his hand, her slender fingers so tightly wrapped in between his, the two of them perfectly connected in this moment…
And then Robin fell backwards into his chair, his balls fully emptied into her. Olivia loosened her grip, a sudden giggle coming over her as she, too, slumped forward, resting her body against his.
“You’re magnificent...” she murmured as her pussy gave him one last little squeeze.
Patting her on the butt, Robin gave a soft laugh of his own. “So’re you,” he murmured, “So are you...”
And the two of them reclined together, with Olivia still impaled on Robin, as he thought about how his seed was almost certainly finding a very fertile reception within her. Two down, two of his future children had been brought into the world… two of his mistresses now bred by his seed.
But even Robin’s more domineering side couldn’t focus on his victory, not when he had Olivia, in all her softness, resting upon him. He wrapped his arms around her and tenderly held her close to him. Such a lovely woman, such a wonderful, wonderful woman… he couldn’t wait to give her the wedding she deserved.
LINE BREAK OLIVIA
Every girl dreamed of her wedding day. Even Olivia, despite growing up as a poor dancer who expected little pomp and circumstance when her own marriage finally came, still had dreams more fantastic than reason would allow.
But reason, it turned out, was quite wrong.
Yes, her marriage was happening in an army camp while they were on the move, and yes, it did not have the sheer extravagance she might have expected of a ceremony that would grant her the title Duchess, but to focus on those circumstances ignored the far bigger one: Robin was a miracle worker.
He pulled together a wedding he might have plucked out of her fantasies, working within the limitations of their budget and their circumstances and finding ways to make things happen. The venue was gorgeous, her dress, a vision, and she knew the reception was going to be exceptionally well-catered. Either some masterful haggling with Anna or, perhaps, literal black magic with Tharja’s help, had made Olivia feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
And also, he’d been fucking her senseless every night since their first coupling, taking advantage of “wedding planning” to create excuses for hot, sweaty trysts beneath everyone’s knowledge. Nights that left her exhausted as he brought her to the most incredible climaxes she’d ever experienced. How he had time to actually plan the wedding, much less a wedding of this magnificence, was just another testimony to what Ylisse’s greatest genius was capable of.
Right now, in her bridal tent, she was readying herself for her grand reveal, only to suddenly feel Tharja, her Matron of Honor, cup her chest, admiring their heft and size as the corset lifted and presented them to the world. Olivia sighed to feel the dark mage’s dextrous fingers gently explore her body. “He’s claimed you,” she whispered into her ear, the tickle of her breath causing her to shiver.
“Yes...” she sighed, remembering that magical night where she danced for him the way she’d always dreamt of dancing, so free, so honest, so perfect… and the way his dick had filled up her pussy in a way no man could ever compete with!
“Mmmmm,” Tharja murmured, her hands further exploring Olivia’s figure. Tweaking her nipples, cupping her ass, even tracing a finger through her dress, right over Olivia’s moistening slit. “I’m sure Robin found you… exquisite,” she said, completing her review.
Olivia felt a dirty thrill from Tharja’s inspection… or should she say, Robin’s other woman… not that she really objected, of course. “He did,” she said, then rounded on the dark mage with a lusty giggle, “Were you hoping for a taste as well?”
But Tharja reacted with neither desire nor disgust, merely shaking her head and saying, “I only desire him, no other.”
A shame. Tharja’s figure would be very fun to play with, and Olivia certainly wouldn’t mind teaching the shapely sorceress a dance they could show Robin as a team. But if Tharja wasn’t interested, then she simply wasn’t interested.
Though perhaps she’d change her mind if she knew Robin desired it…
But a later concern. Right now, she had to finish getting ready. As Tharja attended to the last little details of her appearance—she never would have guessed that Tharja, of all people, could be so attentive to makeup and couture, but she had made an excellent Matron of Honor—she assessed her to be ready for the aisle. Thrusting a bouquet into her hands, just as she’d tossed one into Olivia’s hands at Tharja’s own wedding, Robin’s other woman gave her a slight, respectful nod… that made Olivia really want to see what Tharja looked like when Robin made her face so much more expressive.
But later. Perhaps she’d make a request for a certain “wedding present” from Robin, but she had to get to the wedding first. With bouquet in hand, with her dress’s train trailing behind her, it was time to present herself to her Exalt, her fellow soldiers, her son, her husband… and her lover.
Gracefully processing to the aisle, Olivia walked with all the purpose and control of any of her dances, her eyes locked on her husband, standing at the altar in his Ducal attire… except for the briefest moment where her eyes ever-so-subtly flicked to the right where her real love was. And as soon as they made eye contact, even for that infinitesimal moment, she felt a surge of… indescribably wicked joy that made her happier than she ever imagined she could be, even on her wedding day.
Subtly squeezing her thighs together, Olivia briefly thought of the new life growing inside her, little Inigo, about to come into the world, and she realized how wondrously magical her life was.
