Terror. Sheer terror unlike almost anything she’d ever experienced had Elise’s heart beating louder than her husband’s thunder. She disliked physical conflict, training only at the rest of her family’s insistence, and her gratitude at having so many more martially inclined people in her family was boundless.
Now, she clung to that like a drowning mortal grasped at the thinnest lines they were thrown.
Her husband stood there, strong and resolute, but as much as she was wont to do, she couldn’t bring herself to admire his broad back and powerful arms. She’d lost herself so often in his glorious body, but now she could barely sit still. Across from him stood Triyr, and beside that would-be thief, the lecher. His gaze frequently turned in her direction, oozing over her skin like grease, fouling her in ways she hadn’t felt since she first met the Sunlit Emperor.
She’d made arrangements—no matter what, she would never be his. The prospect of leaving her family behind was inconceivable. She envied the strength in her sisters-in-law; she didn’t know how they were coping so well. Her hands were weak and it took all of her strength not to cry in anxiety; Valeria, Cassandra, and Maia, on the other hand, looked either cool and calm or quietly furious.
As Anassa Britta confirmed the terms of the duel, pale fingers slid into her hands, which Elise had laid atop her lap with all the prim propriety that a Queen ought to have. Elise glanced at the woman those fingers belonged to: Valeria, who returned her gaze out of the corner of her eye.
[Relax,] one of her oldest friends whispered into her mind, once again showing off an aptitude with magic that Elise could’ve never had if Leon hadn’t gotten his hands on those Hesperidic Apples. [When has Leon ever let us down?]
Elise conjured her meager skill with darkness magic to respond. [He never has…]
[Don’t let your faith waver now. It will be a tough fight, but Leon will win.]
Elise fought not to slouch, to remain looking as strong as her husband was, taking a position opposite Triyr. Her struggle nearly ended when she felt Morui leering at her again.
Before she could respond, the duel began in explosive fashion. Lightning and thunder seemed to rock the entire demiplane, and Elise couldn’t bring herself to watch every detail. Leon could die here…
Valeria squeezed her hand again, but this time seemed unintentional. Elise refocused and stifled a gasp—Leon had been pinned against the barrier by Triyr, their magics clashing with such force that she knew she’d die in an instant if she and her husband swapped places.
’It’s always like this…’ she silently cried. ‘He’s… always fighting…’
Shame bubbled up from her twisting gut, hitting her with the bitter acidic taste in the back of her mouth. What was she doing? The love of her life was putting his life on the line to defend their family and their Kingdom, while… she could barely even watch.
She glanced down at Valeria’s ivory fingers entwined with hers. Stable, yet soft; Valeria trained with her glaive every day without fail, yet the softness of her hands would never have suggested such diligence. They were the same tier, yet Elise knew that Leon would take Valeria to battle without much worry if the silver-haired woman insisted.
If Elise tried to join Leon, he would argue against that as vigorously as he could.
Booming thunder pulled her emerald eyes back to the duel. Leon had been severely burned, yet he fought on. Hope surged within her when she saw Triyr similarly injured and struggling to rise. Her husband switched Iron Pride to his other hand—his right she just noticed was smoking and bloody—and lunged at Triyr.
Time seemed to slow for Elise as her hope turned to ash. A spell conjured and flared, and Leon fell mid-lunge.
The bastard Triyr, the name now forever cursed in Elise’s mind, approached her downed husband, and her heart seemed intent on escaping her chest for how madly it beat. The guarantees of the Sun King meant nothing to her; for a moment, she fully believed that her husband was going to die, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She squeezed Valeria’s hand back and fought hard not to look away. If her husband was going to put himself on the line like this, then she was going to honor him by witnessing it, no matter how agonizing it may be.
Light shone from above, but then, seemingly at the last moment, Leon’s aura spiked. Iron Pride sprang to his hand, and he launched it like a Lance bolt. Triyr was pinned to the wall, and for the second time, time itself seemed to slow as Elise processed what she was seeing.
Her husband, rising like a phoenix, battered and burned and bloody, but strong and unbowed. Vigorous. Hot.
Despite the circumstances, she felt her racing heart skip a beat as he conjured a silver-blue lightning bolt into his hand. Strength; mental, physical, and magical. Her husband was the epitome of that word in her mind. No other man could compare. She loved him, and her contingency in her soul realm was momentarily forgotten, all thoughts of ever possibly being taken away banished from every corner of her mind.
She felt foolish, now. With this man, the only man she could ever love, putting his strength and determination on display for the Lords of the universe to witness… ‘How could I have ever thought he’d lose?’
Silver-blue lightning splashed across Triyr, and Anassa Britta called the duel.
“The winner of this duel… is Despot Leon Raime!”
Few times had Elise ever heard sweeter words, and every time it had been either Leon or one of her sisters-in-law speaking them. Explosive heat built within her, dwarfing the crowd’s somewhat muted response. Relief, joy, love; all three hit her body like the finest ambrosia, and she felt like she’d been taken into the heavens where before she’d been teetering on the edge of the hells. In such a state, she didn’t notice the crowd; she had eyes and ears only for Leon, her hunk of a husband.
Her breathing hitched as his golden eyes found hers. She decided then that when they returned to Storm Herald, she was going to show her love in every way imaginable, so long as those ways involved her clothes torn from her body.
And, afterward… perhaps she ought to devote more time to her training….
---
His victory declared by Britta, Leon, instinctively sucking down air like his body actually needed it, Iron Pride’s thunder wood hilt, the Iron Needle buried within lending him a hint of power to recover with. Triyr, despite Britta’s intervention, collapsed on the stage, the burns from Leon’s black lightning healing incredibly slowly.
“What did you do to this man, Despot Raime?!” Britta shouted as she laid a hand directly on Triyr’s chest and channeled even more origin power, which certainly helped.
Leon didn’t immediately answer. He vaguely noticed that several of the watching Lords were already cheering, but most were sitting and watching silently, the duel more of a curiosity to them than anything else. Those watching Storm Lords, however…
A smile as cocky as he could manage crossed Leon’s face, and he glared down at Triyr. The man had fallen unconscious, but there was someone else present who needed to hear his words…
Turning his golden eyes to Morui, Leon growled, “I did what I do to everyone who has designs upon my family…”
Morui, though a Basileus facing an injured and weakened Despot, visibly paled, and it looked to Leon like if he wasn’t already standing against the invisible barrier protecting the watchers, then he might’ve even backed up a step or two.
A response might’ve been warranted, but when Leon glanced back at Britta, she was studiously not looking in his direction.
With nothing more forthcoming, Leon finally turned to the stands and his watching family. His followers, of course, clamored for him, stomping and shouting and putting the other Storm Lords who cheered his victory to shame—Archelaus and the other Storm Lords that he’d introduced Leon to were among them. His family was more muted, but he could see the relief in their eyes. He almost stumbled when he made eye contact with Elise, the heat and desire he saw there so powerful that he was surprised she hadn’t leaped at him already.
“Leon! My new friend! My new brother!” Gwarim thundered as he appeared beside him. “I knew you were going to win!”
“Should’ve bet on it,” Leon quipped, feeling much better with most of his wounds now healed thanks to his twelfth-tier power.
“I did,” Gwarim said with a grin. “I wouldn’t have been your second had I thought you were guaranteed to lose.”
“Siding with the winning side, then?” Leon sarcastically replied.
“Hardly! A bet is still a bet, my friend! But had you lost, which would’ve subjected me to the same terms as you, I wouldn’t have regretted it! Your cause was just and noble, and in victory, you have shown to all those here who may lack those qualities the strength of your virtues!”
Gwarim cast challenging glares around the theater, and Leon’s perspective fully widened until he once again became properly aware of just how many Lords were present, studying him, evaluating his powers, his gear, his fighting style, his demeanor…
He felt suddenly naked—which wasn’t that far from the truth after the damage he’d taken in the duel and the prohibition on armor. With a thought, he was once again dressed, but he didn’t feel much more covered than he’d been a moment before.
“By the way, my friend,” Gwarim whispered, “You’re probably going to have to be ready to field some questions. That fancy lightning of yours—two non-standard colors?! I’ve never even heard of black lightning! People will talk…”
“Let them,” Leon confidently stated. “They’ll hear nothing from me but what I want them to hear.”
Gwarim gave him a booming laugh as they reached the edge of the stage. The barrier remained in place, so they couldn’t quite leave, but given how much trouble Britta was having rousing the still alive yet unresponsive Triyr, Leon wasn’t sure it was going to come down soon. However, just as the thought crossed his mind, the barrier suddenly fell, and in almost the same second, Elise launched herself at him.
Laughing, Leon opened his arms and easily caught her. He spun her around a couple times, bleeding off her momentum all while she clung to him tightly and rained kisses upon him. She was soon joined by Cassandra, Maia, and Valeria, though they each settled for one kiss each.
“We never lost faith,” Valeria said once Leon set Elise back down, much to the red-head’s consternation. His right hand never left her waist, though, despite it being the last part of his body that still needed healing after being maimed by his black lightning.
“I know you didn’t,” Leon responded, his love for these ladies, already seemingly endless, somehow growing with every passing second. “Now, if our business is done here, I wouldn’t mind heading back to Storm Herald for a mo—”
Cutting through the towering auras, a man appeared over the theater, followed by half a dozen others. Of the seven, Leon recognized only one: Quagharin, the Mountain Lord who had broken up the fight between Morui and Refferti the previous day alongside Britta—though he wasn’t the first arrival. Judging by his company, these seven were Basileis, though given Leon couldn’t identify their auras, all he could say for certain was that they were stronger than him.
“Leon Raime,” the first man said, his long brown hair streaming behind him like a cloak. He floated down to stand in front of Leon while another joined Britta in healing Triyr. The other five remained floating, warily eyeing the others, especially once the watching Lords started joining them in the air and apparently separating themselves by their allegiances. “You… wield the power of the Thunderbird. I would know that lightning anywhere. And… you arrived here on Jason Keraunos’ ark. That is… interesting.”
He landed in front of Leon, his hands held behind his back in a posture of complete calm and confidence.
“My people have been speaking of you for years, now,” the man continued. “I must admit, I’m disappointed that you’re not ten feet tall nor did you shoot any lightning bolts out of your ass, but I suppose some of those stories had to be false…”
“I am what I am,” Leon replied as he pulled Elise behind him. She seemed hesitant to do that but acquiesced after a moment. His other ladies and followers streamed out of the stands to join him opposite this new man, while Archelaus strode over to stand between them.
“Anax Jericho,” Archelaus warmly greeted. “It’s been too long!”
“Archelaus!” Jericho responded. “Indeed it has! You’ve finally pulled yourself out of those roots and weeds, I see! I’d hoped you were doing something with that, but you seem to have not advanced at all!”
“Some of us rise slower than even mesten trees, while others rise quicker than our least favorite weeds. Such is life.”
Jericho smiled sadly. “Were only all of our old friends in the latter category. For now, how about this…” He returned to addressing Leon, seemingly unbothered by Leon’s entourage around him or the hundreds of other hovering and watching Lords. “Come with me, Leon. There are some matters I would like to discuss with you.” Leon opened his mouth to respond, but Jericho quickly added, “Oh, and this is an invitation! I would understand completely if you’d prefer to get some rest, first. Consider your friends and family invited, too.”
“I vouch for him, Leon,” Archelaus added. “Jericho means you no harm.”
Leon, still a little on edge from the duel and Jericho’s sudden arrival, forced himself to relax. “In that case, Anax Jericho, I thank you for your invitation, but I think some rest might be in order.”
“Very well,” Jericho said without missing a beat, his smile not fading even the slightest. “I will await you on Mardohamzon. Please visit at your convenience, though I hope that won’t be too long from now…”
Elise stepped out from behind Leon and took his arm with surprising firmness given her anxiety throughout the day. “We’ll be sure to visit you, Anax Jericho, within one… two days!”
“Hm. I look forward to it. Now, it might be best if you returned to that fine ark of yours before someone else here starts getting ideas…” Jericho nodded to all of the watching Lords, some of whom were glaring at each other, but most seemed more concerned with Leon and the still unconscious Triyr.
Leon could understand that; he was still interested in Triyr despite Leon’s win. The man had used an attack akin to the Wailing Dirge’s eponymous wail, which had disturbed Leon’s bloodline powers. How, he wasn’t sure, especially since he’d only gotten a brief look at the spell, much of which had been obscured by Triyr’s power and aura, but no matter what, it represented a powerful threat to Leon’s Kingdom given his peoples’ reliance on their Inherited Bloodlines.
No answers were going to be pulled from him for the time being, however, even with two Anakes banishing half of his burns… When he awoke, though, Leon wanted to know where he’d gotten that spell, and almost as much, he wanted those terms fulfilled. Morui was still up and about, and while Leon was tempted to demand he fulfill those terms, given the hundreds of Lords watching his every move and the expenditure in power he’d just gone through, he wasn’t up to pressing the matter.
He could only hope that Britta would enforce the matter later since it was her and her Elemental King’s honor on the line.
So, without further ado, Leon departed the theater in triumph, bringing word of victory back to Storm Herald with him…
---
The theater quickly cleared up with Leon Raime’s departure. Some of his ‘friends’, if Britta could call them that, remained a while gushing about the fight, but as she finally straightened up, Triyr having been healed to the best of her ability—his marred flesh had been mended, but the man was still unconscious, and by her estimates, would remain so for at least a week—she wanted nothing more than to forget this whole thing. She regretted ever allowing this to happen; she regretted not meeting the two parties beforehand, for if she’d gotten the same kind of look at Leon Raime as she had at the beginning of the duel, she would’ve revoked Triyr’s challenge herself.
She controlled herself as a shudder nearly traveled down her spine, Leon Raime’s eyes momentarily rushing through her mind. ‘A trick of the light,’ she thought to herself as, for a moment, she remembered red-orange flashing through those golden orbs. ‘He has nothing to do with the Great Dragons… That would be impossible… right…?’
—-
—-
Thank you to my Apotheosis-tier patrons:
Easyreader – Scarab6 – Caleb Michael Mills – A.M.R. – Laggmonkei – Stretchheart – CWMA – Tae – helvetica – Murigi – DJ9warren – Gabe9230 – Caleb – Johnny – Matthew Schultz – Divine univers – Paul Whatever – Kenneth House – Dr.Pine – Isaac T. – Zachary W Jensen – Zach Atchinson – Heretic Turtle – Chris Prevou – Hunter Greeno – Deadguy – Joseph Weber – Germano
---
Please be sure to visit Royal Road and leave a rating or review!