Tales of Fecundia - Murky Waters
A Maxi/Middy RP collaboration.
Beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as Cedric tossed in his sleep. His heart pounded like the relentless march of drums, its rhythm echoing through the vast chamber of his regal bedroom. The remnants of a haunting dream clung to his consciousness, refusing to release their grip on his troubled mind.
As the moon cast an ethereal glow through the tall, arched windows, Cedric swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose, his bare feet pressing against the cool stone floor. The castle was unusually quiet, the silence thick and oppressive. He donned a robe and grasped a flickering candlestick, its flame dancing like a lone sentinel in the darkness.
With each step, the chill of the hallway seeped into Cedric's bones. The oil paintings that adorned the stone walls appeared eerily lifelike, their subjects' gazes following his every move. The tapestries hung like ghostly specters, their vibrant hues fading into pale shadows under the moon's touch.
His footsteps reverberated through the corridor, but there was no response, no signs of life. The castle, once bustling with activity, now felt hollow and abandoned. Unease tightened its grip around Cedric's throat, the weight of his responsibilities bearing down upon him.
He turned a corner, his breath catching in his throat as he stumbled upon an open doorway. Intrigued yet apprehensive, he stepped inside and found himself in the castle's grand ballroom. The vast space stretched out before him like an ocean of emptiness. Moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting fragmented patterns of color upon the polished marble floor.
Cedric advanced hesitantly, his steps cautious, his senses heightened. He called out, his voice echoing through the cavernous room, but there was no reply, only the haunting sound of his own words drifting into nothingness. His heart hammered louder, drowning out the silence as he pressed on.
Then his eye caught something from afar - to the end of the hallway.
The figure at the end of the passageway paused. Around her the night seemed to caress her arms and twine about her legs. The moonlight through the halls suddenly spun of glass was captured in the waterfall of dark hair that tumbled down her back, settling on her head as if a crown spun from starlight.
She began to turn, and as she did the castle turned with her. The heady scent of a wildflower field in full bloom filled the hallway, with notes of bright citrus lingering just beneath. The floor shifted for her, the walls twisted so that the delicate woman needn't lift so much as the toe of her shoe. The moonlight caught in her hair tumbled over her arms, clad in the simple linen of a servant woman's tunic, and the broom she ever so gently brushed along the floor.
And then she turned to lift her face to the sky, to admire that which clothed her so grandly, and the magnificent swell of her womb beneath her gown was revealed. So tight against the linen, it was settled low and heavy between her hips as she released the broom and moved forward. Her gaze had yet to leave the heavens, had yet to _see_ him, although she moved in his direction as though on one end of a length of unbending steel.
The floral scent grew stronger the closer she moved. Every step was no more, no less, than the whisper of a summer's wind. Heat followed in her wake, bringing a sheen of sweat to her brow and throat that had her skin fairly glowing.
"Cedric," she murmured, with lips that did not move.
Still she had not turned her face to him. He had yet to see the color of her eyes, the generous mouth that smiled so sweetly to the moon, the rise of her sharp cheeks or the slope of her jaw, just begging to be kissed.
The woman finally stood before him and lowered her gaze, just as she lifted her hands to her low, waiting belly. Silence entombed them as she smiled, a smile that was his and only his, always ever his... Until her eyes widened.
And her waters rushed from between her legs.
It felt like a feverish haze that Cedric could not fully comprehend as he laid eyes on a woman he has not seen before. The aura of mystery surrounding her casting an unexplainable charm on the Twin King. His body and mind sang wildly for this fecund woman, compelling Cedric to give in to his urges and follow her willingly. He couldn't even feel the weight of his feet, his mind seemingly floating into this hypnotic trance of a passionate call - her bodily call.
Her voice alone instilled a primally intense reaction from the Twin King, feeling his chest threatening to burst with desire and longing as he walked up to her like a moth flying into the light. Cedric had neither seen nor recognized this woman, and yet she invoked such strong impulses he could not reject or ignore.
But just as Cedric was close to reaching out and beholding her Mellidone-imbued figure, he stopped just as she took a moment to feel her life-filled swollenness. The impression of motherly expression paralyzing Cedric with shared joy and delight, causing his thoughts to wander - was she carrying his seed?
His question would be quelled by the sudden gush of life's water spurted forth, and Cedric felt all reality slowed as his mind narrowed to this moment. Cedric's eyes are widening as well.
"Lady, your waters!" exclaims Cedric.
The woman's expression grew more pained. The generous swell of her womb tightened with the visible contractions of beginning labor, and it seemed as if the very walls echoed her body. The hallway narrowed, and moonlight sank further into her hair as she groaned and began to pace. Every step she took brought her no peace. She moaned and sighed, rubbing her pale hands over her gown as the fabric itself shifted beneath her palms. Linen thinned to gossamer. The ining of cotton ribbon at her throat twisted into spiderweb-fine lace.
And sound returned without warning.
Suddenly the castle sounded as full of people as a coronation. Music and laughter filtered toward them from the ballroom, and echoing down the halls were the unmistakable sounds of the court. Through it all, weaving into the tapestry that was this place, the dark-haired woman before him panted and moaned, contracting fiercely as the child within settled low, so blessedly low, into her slender hips.
"He's coming," she whimpered. "Ooh, Cedric..." The woman clutched her middle and panted before lifting her gaze and smiling. "He's so heavy...so big and strong..." Suddenly she let out a cry. "Nnngh! Haa...haa...I can feel him. H-he's ready..." Ever so slowly she lowered herself to the dazzling tile, positioning herself propped back on her elbows just over the mirror of a puddle at her feet. Fluid still trickled from between her legs, and the scent of flowers grew ever stronger.
When another contraction gripped her she let her head fall back, exposing the fine, pale line of her throat. The moonlight shines behind her head as a halo. "Nnngah! Hoo..hoo...nnngh!"
The woman's labored groans and moans distracted Cedric's curiosity on her identity. His mind and senses urging the Twin King to respond to this situation immediately. His heart pulsed wildly from the exhilaration of this imminent delivery taking place, and causes Cedric to kneel himself. Mixed signals of arousal beckoning him to come closer.
*"He's coming...Ooh, Cedric...He's so heavy...so big and strong..."*
Her soft, vulnerable voice stirred Cedric so. Her words pleasing to the Twin King's ears as she spoke the very desire he craved so desperately. A strong, robust heir...challenging the very women Cedric would sire. Goosebumps arose beneath his limbs, as Cedric reached out with his two arms for the hem of Peony's life-filled body.
He rides the edge of her skirt, bringing it up all the way to her equally blessed bosoms. For to admire and behold a mother of this fecundity...is to admire the very swell that sheltered his sired life-
Even if none of this may be real.
Slowly, Cedric peers as he exposes her frame, revealing-
-long, pale legs that seem to glow with the same moonlight trapped within her hair lead toward her heaving womb. She spreads her thighs for him and leans back farther, giving him a full and unbroken view of her slick, swollen labia. The woman groans, her legs trembling, as another contraction fastens like a steel drum around her middle. With a cry she gives fully into the urge to push.
The child within moves, ever so slowly, toward the world that waits for it.
"He is for you," she gasps, bearing down with a strength that hardly seems to match her body. She's built to bear his child, built to bear his heir. Again and again she groans and heaves, the sides of her belly contracting and squeezing and forcing the child to move further through her birth canal, rounding her mon pubis with the sheer size of its head.
Her legs tremble as she gasps for breath, the presentation mirrored in the puddle between her legs.
"Declare you want him," She bears down, her sex reddening with the effort. "Claim your son."
Cedric: A rush of stimulated blood flushed through the Twin King's head. Reddened ears as his eyes tasted the sweet, shivering imagery of the laboring woman before him. He could already feel a growing mild discomfort that pulsed between his legs. His facial expression wincing slightly as he gazed upon her further.
Cedric acknowledges with a firm nod, pulling his hands back and observing this mysterious beautiful maiden birthing in his presence. His chest heaves with a restrained heaviness each breath, wondering how long he can keep his primal senses at bay until gushing forth. Her groans, her motion of straining, delighted Cedric. Even as he too, strains to compose himself. His eyes widened as they looked on between her thighs; heart gathering quickening pulse. That is quite a large head.
"Declare you want him, claim your son."
Cedric does not answer, instead suddenly reaching out with both hands. His joined index and pointer fingers acting like hooks, as Cedric pushes apart her reddened inner and outer labia. He spreads them wide for him to see.
"Then let me see him." answers Cedric. "Show me."
The moment his broad fingers touched her skin the woman jolted, as though taken briefly by the throes of pleasure. Toes curling against the tile, body shaking and belly heaving, the woman presenting herself wholly to her King let out a cry and _heaved_ as he commanded. The castle itself again heaved with her, the walls closing in so that it fell away in its entirety.
There was only the woman. Only the babe being forced out between her thighs, its head straining against her swollen lips as she panted and groaned. Sweat slicked her hair to her flushed cheeks and shoulders. It pooled around them both, the long waves catching the facets of light that somehow cradled the two.
"Hnngh!" She bore down, her chin brought fully to her chest, as she drew her knees to either side of her massive belly and strained. And then...starlight. Through the teardrop forming between her legs, a silver tuft of hair peeked out from her body before it briefly withdrew.
The woman gasped. "Declare it! Declare he will be yours!"
*What birthing prowess...to give into a motherly form like this so intimately and openly...*
The Twin King could feel his body surge with the rush of lustful blood coursing through his veins as he gazed between her legs in rapt awe. His hooked fingers keeping her womanly petals opened, and eyes transfixed to the moment straining forth. Mind had disregarded all distractions around him, not even caring to notice the shifting environment as the castle faded inward into oblivion. Cedric looks on, captivated as the delivery unfolded before him.
He could even feel subtle arousal between his own legs as his lower body teased with the lump pushing against his trousers. Cedric winces slightly in discomfort, disregarding his own body's pleasured reaction.
"That's it..." encourages Cedric. His irises focus on one area between Peony's quivering thighs. He held his breath, feeling his own hands shake ever so slightly from the welling excitement within him.
"That's it! You're getting there!" cheers on Cedric, spreading out the woman's outer labias even more, testing the mother's vaginal elasticity as he does so. Sweat starts to drip down the sides of his face as the heat of his body intensified. The woman was making progress, and Cedric could *clearly* see it.
*"Declare it! Declare he will be yours!"*
"By Mellidone's bosom, he shall!" answers back, his resolve definitive. "Now push again, harder!"
Suddenly, Cedric feels himself pulled away from her, thrown in a feeling of weightlessness, his mind blurry as he's tossed around back and forth until-
He stands by a dimly lit throne room, on the steps leading up to the throne. A long red carpet flows down, to which Cedric walks up.
He could hear, moaning from a distance, voice soft, calling out to him...
Cedric runs up in eager haste. The light making itself known, shining upon what seems to be an elegant birthing throne.
The Twin King gazes, seeing Peony's sweat slicked body trembling upon the dais. Seated in Cedric's throne, legs thrown wide over either arm of the ruler's seat, she gazed down upon him as she drew in another shallow breath. His court surrounded them, faceless and yet watching with rapt attention. Still clothed in nothing more than a gossamer fine chemise, the woman shifted her aching hips as her womb squeezed. The moonlight settled more solidly atop her ink-dark hair, wreathing her head in a crown of silver.
Not unlike that between her shuddering thighs. The child's head moved steadily to crowning as she panted, and only when he was once again close enough to touch did she bear down. With a loud wail to the otherwise still throne room she pushed, grunting and heaving until the head of his heir finally emerged in a rush of fluids.
"Take him," she moaned, and gripped her knees to keep her legs spread wide. "Take your son!"
With another determined push her swollen lips stretched wide around the healthy, large shoulders. "Nnngh! Nnarggh!" With one last cry and a gasp, the child slipped free of her body, directly onto the seat of the throne. She let out a giddy, exhausted laugh and gulped in air, as all around them the faceless court erupted into applause, and the silver-haired boy she'd borne stared up at his father.
The Twin walked slowly as he examined his surroundings, looking to each side of the court walls where the people stood. Memory foggy as he struggles to comprehend the meaning of all these things. A flashback to the past of the Fecundian kings, or a glimpse into the future that is his own, or that of another's? Nonetheless, her labored breaths drew the king closer, stepping up from the last steps of the stairs as he stood atop a high throne above.
Cedric walks closely to the nameless woman birthing before him, feeling nothing but an unexplainable sense of pride and admiration for her. He watches on, quietly observing the scene run its course, his approval known by his firm nod to finish nature's first cycle of life. Her loud wails signals the moment of labor's third stage, as the head gushes out in messy fashion.
Cedric claps three times.
*"Take him, take your son!"*
Cedric kneels down in front of the woman's buttocks spread before him, choosing this time to let the woman finish her work as he peers at the slick head of his offspring poking out. His expression was calm and lips closed. This is the gateway between life within, and life into the world.
Cedric's eyes widened as the feeling of fatherhood welled in him, spurring the Twin King to act by reaching out with both hands to hold the drenched newborn in his arms. He looks back at the woman, nodding again with a warm smile, before looking back to his legacy, one of many for his dream of a Fecundian empire.
He takes one good look at the little silver-haired boy, stroking the crying heir's cheek with his index finger, cleaning off the wetness with his fingertips. Then he brings the boy close to his face, performing the final act of acknowledging the heir truly belong to his -
Cedric kissed the little one's forehead, completing the ritual. He looks back to the woman once more, mouth briefly shifting as he searches for the words to say.
"Well done."
She could have wept. Relief briefly filled her expression, the lines of discomfort temporarily smoothed away as she gulped in blessedly cool, fresh air. At Cedric's back was the sound of the court's velvets, silks, jewels and finery rustling as they knelt to behold their new prince.
Peony's generous mouth lifted to a smile, and one tear snaked its way down her cheek. "Hold fast to him, my King. Hold fast, for he will be yours." She laid her hand over her empty womb and rose smoothly to her feet.
"You must find me, Cedric. Please," her lower lip trembled and she lifted her hand to caress her child's cheek. His cries quieted when she took a shuddering breath to compose herself.
When she lifted her gaze to his it was full of desperate hope. "Please bring me our son, Cedric. I am desperate to hold him as you do. My arms yearn for him, and I am so empty..." Her voice echoed out across the suddenly vacant room, courtiers gone and replaced by an uneasy chill in the air. The infant in Cedric's hands again began to cry.
"Find me. Give me your son!"
Darkness closed over them both like a wave.
...and dawn sent fragments of light scattering over the horizon.
There was something in the woman's expression that made Cedric feel overwhelmed with emotions. Emotions of joy, happiness, and inner warmth as he turns around to see the people gathered in court, kneeling down before and the newborn prince.
*"Hold fast to him, my King. Hold fast, for he will be yours."*
"But I don't understand-" Cedric's eyes widened with surprised as the woman seemingly stood up from the throne, as if the rigors of postpartum had no effect over her recently pregnancy-afflicted body. He stood still as he held the crying babe in his arms, wondering what she was going to do next.
*"You must find me, Cedric. Please, please bring me our son, Cedric. I am desperate to hold him as you do. My arms yearn for him, and I am so empty..."*
"But who are you?" asks Cedric, briefly aware that he was not in reality. "What does this mean? How is this happening??"
A strong wind blows around Cedric like a whirlwind, his silver hair flowing with the strong powerful gusts as he feels himself standing in the center of the vortex of air. He could barely make out the woman's figure as her silhouette fades into the swirling walls of clouds. Cedric squints, trying to see through it all.
Cedric sits up with a start in cold sweat, feeling himself hot despite wearing nothing but his undergarments. His heart threatened to burst from the dreamy experience. He looks to the window, dawn approaches.
You must find me, Cedric. Please-*
With the woman's voice ringing clearly in his head, Cedric pushes out the covers as he gets out of bed in rapid haste. Trying to recall the hazy recollection of where he met this woman in his dream. He follows instinct, striding through the still empty hallways. Barefoot.
Then, he holds his breath, seeing the familiar turn of the tapestry walls. Peeking from one side…
Peony awoke with an agonized groan while it was still too dark to do anything worthwhile. Every inch of her body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and the familiar yet phantom ache between her thighs brought tears to her eyes. The lure was set, the trap placed. How many children had she dreamed of for this purpose? How long had her body been empty and her arms wanting?
"Sister?" Aster's low voice called drowsily from his rooms beyond hers.
With a wince she rose from the thin mattress that made her bed and moved to change her damp chemise. "It is nothing, brother. Just a dream. Be the lord you pretend so easily and sleep," He said nothing further. And obeyed.
Standing quietly in the otherwise empty hall, the woman who was considered nothing more than a servant gazes up at one portrait of the Twin Kings. Were his eyes so bright? His hair? Her own is bound back in a tight knot at the nape of her slender neck, and she brushes a loose lock of it behind one ear. The same hand settles on the flat plane of her waist.
Peony breathes a quiet sigh and resumes her work.
Motes of dust swirl around her skirt as she sweeps, her gaze falling to the stone floor. It feels like less now, without fulfilling her purpose there. The strange sensation of a half-remembered dream gives her pause. As much as the hollow sensation within her. The woman sniffs and scrubs away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks.
"Eventually," she promises herself. "You will bear your child. He will not fade with the light of dawn." Peony shakes her head. "...eventually.
Logic and valid reasoning left Cedric the moment he stepped out of bed; having pushed away all thoughts of doubt in his mind. For as soon as he laid eyes upon her, the Twin King knew in his heart - he was right to act.
There she stood, just like in the dream he was in.
Cedric steps toward her, his flat-footed feet lightly tapping against the marbled floor of the elegant hallway. Heart racing as he realizes he had appeared to her in a messy haste. A rowdy state of appearance. Yet, Cedric didn't care. This mysterious woman...is real.
The Twin King steps closer, letting her know of his presence. Eyes waiting to meet hers.
Without looking to see who it was, Peony dips into an elegant curtsy. Submissive and contrite, graceful but invisible. Her gaze remains on the floor...until it doesn't. She peers up through her lashes at the figure before her and stumbles back one step in shock. The broom falls from her grasp.
"Y-your Grace!" The smell of freesia dances in the air around her, sharp and floral. "I'm so sorry for...for being in your way..." Peony's hands fly to her apron as she fiddles with the hem.
And oh her body knows him. Knows what it feels like to have his fingers against her skin. Knows what it feels like to be seen. Peony swallows and finally straightens. Looks up to meet his gaze. Smiles
The Twin King raises a hand to put the servant at ease. The confusion apparent in his own face as brief doubt revealed itself upon Cedric's mind - was he wrong to have come here? Were the dreams simply what they were - a mere fantasy?
No, this is her. Exactly in my dream.
"That's quite fine, maiden." reassures Cedric, "Pardon my rather crude appearance, but I came here under the impression...that I have been found-"
Their eyes met at last, and Cedric felt his heart set ablaze as they made love to each other's eyes by means of fiery, intense gazes. Did his vision deceive him, or did her smile convey...something else?
"-wanting." finishes Cedric. Immediately he felt color flushed through his face, overthinking that perhaps, he was wrong. Perhaps, he had embarrassed himself in front of a random servant. A spectacle of ridicule.
Peony swallows back the heavy well of emotion thick in her throat. After so many years, after so many careful plans...the moment is at hand. Were Aster here he would likely make a simple introduction, brush her aside and leave Cedric wanting to know more.
"Your highness, pray, forgive my boldness, but..." Her words are soft and her voice steady as she moves to close the distance between them. If the lure hasn't been taken will he have her jailed? Will he push her aside, and all she's worked towards will be for nothing?
Peony clasps her hands to her chest and does not stop their trembling. Her promised child is so close she can imagine the feel of him in her arms.
"...were you looking for me, sire?" Her heart is a frantic thing, pounding hard within her chest.
It felt most unusual for the Twin King to be so anxious in this moment with the maidservant. He was a king, and so why the apprehension and anxiety? As they look into each other's eyes, the silver-haired king starts to hear his own heart throb as he stands in front of her. Her questioning looming heavily upon his mind.
*"Your Highness, pray, forgive my boldness, but...were you looking for me, sire?"*
Cedric clears his throat and straightens himself up. He wanted to curse at himself for being so passive, his confidence resurfacing.
"Yes," admits Cedric, sighing in defeat. "Call it foolishness, but I was led here to you in the form of the dream...I wanted to see for myself if the premonition was straight and true." Cedric looks back at Peony, waiting upon her answer. For only she could tell him whether their meeting was fated, or all for naught.
As tears well in her bright, crystalline eyes, Peony takes a steadying breath. Let him think it love. Let him think it whatever he wants. In this moment the relief of everything coming to fruition is almost too much to bear. She lets awe and uncertainty flicker briefly across her expression. There will be no allowing herself weakness after this moment.
Her purpose stands before her, his silver hair brighter than any portrait or dream could ever envision.
"It was not my own?" She whispers, and the admission hangs between them both. Peony steps forward, too bold for her status. Too bold for her position in the castle, for the lack of title or lands. The bright scent of freesia twists around her like perfume as it clings to her hair and skin. Every slight movement seems to renew it, and the heady scent of it from their dream is one and the same.
When she smiles, it is with every ounce of loveliness and joy that she can summon, and it is for him and him alone.
"It...it will be as you declared? My lord, you found me..."
"It will be as you declared? My lord, you found me..."
The Twin King lets out a short gasp of relief as the feeling washed over him. As if a huge weight had fallen off his shoulders, to know he was not driven mad to the point of insanity. His breathing relaxed as Cedric paces his hurried breaths, putting his own palm against his chest to soothe the thumps.
He looks to the windows, seeing the colors of the night a light dark blue - they were running out of time. For the moment dawn approaches, so will their time be together. For the king had hurried to her without decency nor preparation, relying on the swiftness of the deed that would soon to follow.
Cedric moves in closer, kissing Peony's forehead before extending his hand, palm up. Inviting her to put her own hand atop.
"Time is short, take my hand." urges Cedric, the urgency apparent in body language yet the passion remained.
"Is it, my King?" Her eyes widen, and she lays her hand in his without further question. She does not care where she's led, or how long. The floral scent that clings to her skin ensnares them both as strong hands, known hands, traverse her slender body. Peony hardly knows what door he leads her through, what hidden place he steals her into, before all she knows is the feel of him.
And oh how they keep quiet. Even when it seems impossible, when he's unbound her hair and loosened the ties of her gown, when he's filling her and-
"Peony," she gasps against his throat.
She guides his hand to the tender, flushed skin over her womb. Panting, stifling a laugh as his seed finds its place to quicken within her, the woman whispers her name into the otherwise quiet stillness between them.
