My take on the one bed trope. We also make Crumbs a bit jealous in this one.
TW: mild gambling.
Other chapters.
Outside, rain pours over him. The drops that fall into his mouth taste sharp as he rinses his face and hands. He clenches and unclenches his hands at his sides and sighs. At least he hadn’t said any of the things that crossed his mind. That would have been catastrophic to the uncomplicated version of the road he'd planned for.
He puts his hand over the right side of his chest and feels for his heart. He finds it, its rhythm. Milder than minutes ago. Somewhat satisfied.
Crumbs combs his hair back into place, and makes his way back inside.
Lilie has put on her pants again, and now sits cross legged by the fire, quietly staring at it as the rations become hot. His stained blanket has been folded and put aside.
He sits down, close to her. Still completely naked.
His cold, wet skin prickles as the warmth reaches him.
He sees her reach for something from the corner of his eye. She throws her own wool mantle at him.
“You’re wet.”
He thinks of something annoying to say, then discards it.
As he dries off, he feels her gaze on him and meets it.
She looks at him, face neutral -- a rare sight on Lilie -- and her chin resting on her hand.
She looks at him like he is something she is allowed to stare at, to study. The cold blue irises, framed by generous dark lashes, make her gaze intense even with relaxed, half-lidded eyes.
He lets her look. His flushed skin, the ample scar on his side, the dark hair still dripping down his back.
Something pounds inside his chest. He gets dressed -- the gnomish attire-- and sits again in the same spot.
He reaches for the warm ration, bread, cheese and a spicy herbal spread that doesn’t spoil easily.
Sometime towards the end of the meal, he chuckles to himself. “Curious.”
The scowl finds its way back to her face.
* * *
The sun has been out a couple of hours when its soft, grey light hits his face. He blinks slowly, and looks past the still warm pile of coal and ash.
Lilie sits on top of her bedroll, writing on her book with great focus. He thinks he notices a blush. Does she always chew on her lip this often? He’ll know about the contents soon enough anyway.
He stretches with a loud groan, finally drawing her attention. The writing stops for a moment.
“Good morning,” he grumbles, his voice rough from the cold and smoke.
“Mm, morning.” She tilts the book away from him and continues writing.
He gathers his belongings, stuffing his now dry and mostly clean blanket into his pack. Outside, thick brooding clouds cover the sky as far as the eye can see. It’d be wise to find a town, or at least an inn.
He approaches her as she reaches for her chainmail and gestures at her ribs. Looking away, she lifts her chemise, exposing the milder pink line at her side. The skin feels warm and slightly raised under his fingertips. He puts a semi-innocent hand on her hip, as if stabilizing himself to get a better look. He feels her tense up.
His yellow eyes find her face. Her head is turned, she watches the other side of the room with deliberate focus.
“Are you okay?” he asks, more genuine than he intends.
“Huh?” Her head spins toward him. He can see the flushed skin on her face more clearly. “Yes. Fine.”
“The wound. Is it okay?” His eyes go back to the stitches.
“Fine. Itchy.” She chews on her lip again. “It’s doing something.”
He inspects it for a moment longer, weighing the necessity of another layer of paste.
At the edge of his vision, he can see her open her mouth, make a small decision and close it, pursing her lips.
They stay like this for a moment longer than strictly necessary. Her shirt lifted and blue eyes on him. His hands on her hot skin. The smallest caress when he finally removes them.
* * *
“Crumbs.”
“Hm?”
“How do you eat leaves?”
“How do I eat leaves?”
“Not you, goblins.”
He looks at her like she’s grown another head.
“Forget it.”
“How do goblins eat leaves?”
“I said forget it.”
“We don’t graze, Lilie.”
* * *
Crumbs holds onto the trinket as they approach the roadside inn. He feels the mending in the figurine under his fingers. The image held well, a depiction of Jaula, shapeshifter, goddess of plausible deniability. Patron of liars and of the wrongly accused, manifested in bug bites, sudden noises and flowers that grow out of place. He smooths out her dress with his thumb.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Lilie asks.
“It will work,” he mumbles, annoyed. “I told you. I know what I'm doing.”
He lets go of the pendant and fixes his clothes, straightening his vest and adjusting the collar of his shirt.
Lilie’s shoulders come down slightly as they get closer to the inn. It is ample and, from the sound of it, very crowded. As expected, this close to the royal crossroads; and with the sky looking as it did. All kinds of folk pour in and out of the main entrance and stables. A generous column of dark smoke rises from the main chimney.
“I’ll check the stables when I get the chance. It could get ugly if the horsemen we saw are here.” He pushes the heavy wooden door with both hands.
Inside, it smells like broth, pelt and a hint of wet dog.
There is a small line to the innkeeper’s desk.
While they wait, two sets of eyes dart around the busy room, scanning faces, watching for pointing fingers and odd reactions.
When they get to the front, a hairy man with a wide back and a long beard awaits. Some manner of half-blood, judging by his shorter stature. He looks at them from beneath messy eyebrows for no more than a second before returning to his ledger.
“Room number twenty-three. Right side. Second floor. Twenty pieces.” His baritone voice rumbles almost too low for the common room’s bustle.
Crumbs counts and slides the twenty pieces on the counter wordlessly.
The innkeeper takes them.
“Next!”
At the top of the stairs, they exchange a knowing glance. Nobody seems to be paying them any kind of attention.
Lilie uses the steel key on the door.
Inside, two beds, a wide north-facing window and a small hearth. Good. Upon closer inspection, a collection of small stains on one of the mattresses and sheets. She wrinkles her nose and looks at him.
“I’m taking the other bed,” she says.
“Slow down, why?” He looks at the infested cot with mild disgust.
“You didn’t sleep so bad. Plus I have a bad back.”
“I took the hay last time.” Her frown deepens.
“I don’t care.” She puts her pack down near the good one.
“Not while I draw breath,” she punctuates each word deliberately.
“We should at least leave it to luck.” He shrugs and gives a toothy smile, trying his best to appear innocent. “Dice?”
He tsks and crosses his arms in annoyance.
“I’m checking the stables,” he grumbles.
He walks at a measured, deliberate pace, with his hands clasped behind his back. The inside of the busy stable feels warm and humid, the smell not entirely unpleasant to him. The stablehands brush and feed the horses while a couple of pixies remove a saddle. Crumbs checks the horses one by one like he belongs. No trace of the group he’d seen. His shoulders drop in a concealed sigh.
He isn’t particularly fond of horses and the like, but he supposes a gnome with nothing to do in a stable would, so he extends a hand toward one.
A grey one, with black spots on its hind legs. It turns its head away, looking at him sideways. Its ears flatten against its skull.
He blinks for a second and pulls his hand back, appreciating the fingers he still has.
He wonders, for a moment, if the trinket works on horses too.
Can she see past his façade? Does it somehow know that he is not what he pretends to be? That he is not supposed to be here, and that his interest is not genuine? Or is it just a particularly nasty animal?
He backs away from the horse.
Back at the common room, most tables are busy, and so is the bar. All manner of fae, humans and others fill the high and low tables. The wood of them is permanently shiny and sticky in most places, from the decades of spilled ale, smeared rather than wiped. At a table by the window a group of selkies and kobolds play cards. A few dirty, wet soldiers drink on a tall standing by the corner, and three xanas warm their hands by the main hearth.
He cranes his neck, looking for Lilie. She’s standing by the bar, apparently talking to a human soldier. She’s listening closely, meeting his gaze with a focused expression.
He looks healthy, tan skin, mop of dark hair and a beard that seems to be at least somewhat cared for. The soldier looks relaxed, resting his elbows in the wood at the bar. A sheathed sword hangs from his belt.
Outside, the rain has found its rhythm against the roof.
Crumbs thinks for a moment, and ends up deciding not to meddle. He gets a tankard of ale and finds a small table. They’ve moved to a table of their own. Her back is to him, he can see her nodding. The longleg man runs his fingers through his hair and looks at her with half-lidded eyes, leaning on the table.
He catches himself when he’s about to get up. Find a table closer. He sits back down after a moment. She’s doing something with her hands in front of her, but he can’t see what. The Soldier laughs like she’s the funniest thing in the world, shakes his head condescendingly. He combs his hair again.
His leg is bouncing under the table. He finds a distraction, sipping on the ale, watching the posh little fae around him, fiddling with his dice. His eyes need to be wrenched away from her back more than a few times. This has been going on for entirely too long.
When Lilie finally approaches him, he’s downed three full tankards and has been playing Five-Finger Fillet with moderate success, judging by the black spots on his hand. He’s been thinking of what to say when she comes back for a while, and has chosen an option he deems more than reasonable.
“Sating your curiosity, eh?” He doesn’t look up from his hand, still flat against the sticky table.
When he does look up, he fills his gaze with venom. Raised, unworried brows and clenched jaw. He holds her gaze a beat too long and she doesn't flinch, only tilts her head slightly, waiting.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She sits in front of him, places her cup down next to his.
“We’re taking a detour, by the way.” She takes a sip and looks out the window.
He plays with the tip of his good knife, looks past her to the table where the soldier sat, he’s not there. He’s gone to his group, his back turned to the pair.
“Are we, now?” He tests the sharp edge. The nicks on his fingers sting. “Why?”
“There’s a camp, a little to the south, close to the river.” She looks at him and he doesn’t meet her gaze.
“And you want to visit it?”
“Mm-hm.” She takes a sip.
“Mm.”
He studies her face. She looks serious, mind somewhere far away as she looks out the window.
The sizzling inside has not relented despite his best attempts at ignoring it. It feels like he’s falling somewhere in his chest. He flattens his palm against the table once more.
He raises the knife, ready to stab right next to his pinky when her hand shoots out to stop it. It burns when it lands on his knuckles.
“Cut it out.” She clicks her tongue and takes her hand away. “God.”
She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Fine! Take the damn bed, you absolute whelp.”
“Oh, so gracious of you. Thank you, Madam.” He feigns deference, then leans in. “And where will you be sleeping, hm?”
She narrows her eyes and leans in as well. “The floor.”
Across the room, the soldier glares at them over his shoulder.
“You’re impossible,” she scoffs and leans back on the oak chair.
He does not fully control what happens on his face, and he blames the ale for this. His cheeks and the tips of his ears feel hot, flushed dark. He looks everywhere but at her, where he is certain a severe scowl awaits. He takes a peek. He wasn’t wrong. She’s chewing on her lip. He fishes the dice from his satchel, and his fingers brush against the lavender.
“Dice?” he asks, already pouring them into an empty cup.
“I’m not betting a thing.” She leans in.
Had he been sober, he might’ve caught her small, controlled smile.
* * *
A pixie and two humans join them for the dice not long after, and the table gets louder for it.
Crumbs works the cup with the ease of long practice, and Lilie watches him the way she watches opponents in a spar. Looking for the tell, waiting for the moment.
She finds it. He's arranging the dice inside the cup, two quick fingers, and her eyes go wide. She looks at him.
He looks back. His scarred lips curve up in a side-smile. He winks. He’s beginning to recognize the look on her face as something he’ll be able to use against her, some other time.
She says nothing. Sips her ale. Wins the next round on the back of his cheating and doesn't thank him for it.
He wins a knife off one of the humans. Walnut handle, a couple of dirty rubies embedded on it. Someone's initials engraved along the blade. He turns it over in his hands with quiet satisfaction.
At some point he glances toward the bar. The soldier has found other company. A redheaded fae, her fingers near his on the wood, laughing at something he's said. Crumbs watches for a moment, then looks back at the table.
Lilie is evaluating whether or not the pixie is a Liar.
He uses the evening's winnings to pay for a nice dinner, as nice as the inn’s slow kitchen would provide. A creamy rabbit stew with bay leaves and saffron, washed down with a white wine. She wraps both hands around the bowl and eats without complaint.
* * *
When they enter the cold room, the silence of the closed door allows the relentless rain to be heard in full. Crumbs gets the hearth going while Lilie removes the outer layers of chainmail and padding. He hears her sigh and turns around. She’s looking at the other bed, arms crossed, trying to find a way to sleep somewhere soft with the least amount of parasites possible. She seems to be deliberately not looking at him.
Crumbs puts out the candle. Distorted grey light enters through the wet window.
He ponders giving up the bed, for a moment, then doesn’t.
He takes off his most restrictive clothing and climbs on the mostly clean bug-less bed. It creaks and dips under his weight. It groans further when he scoots to the farther side of the small bed, his shoulder pressed against the wall. She’s watching him closely now.
He doesn’t look back. She’s thinking about it. He can tell by the pause, the way she picks up her blanket from her pack and holds it, still eyeing the empty gap on the mattress.
He hears a tentative step and puts a hand behind his head, examining the ceiling. There’s holes in it, they probably had termites years ago.
The mattress dips by him, and he keeps not looking. He feels the threat of a blush forming and he fights it, mainland fae curses streaming in his head. Soft fabric brushes against his side. He looks.
Her back is turned to him. He watches her silently, the golden locks, her nape, the dip of her waist. She shifts, arranging her blanket. Dozens of words die on the tip of his tongue. He bites it and sighs soundlessly. He can see it in the way she breathes, she’s wide awake.
“Can you frown more quietly, please?”
A hand smacks him in the dark.
* * *
Sometime in the night he shifts. His sleep is light, aware of her. He tells himself he’s too sleepy to be completely consciously turning to his side, his hand finding her waist. He doesn’t pull her closer. She shifts slightly, closing the distance. He feels her sigh under his hand, and go right back to sleep. His pulse is not the one of a sleeping man.
The canon of Crumbs The Goblin has taken a path I didn't predict so it's impossible to reconcile the fic with it, so as of right now I'm treating it like a series of drabbles that happen to be continuous.
I think after I finish my current project, which shouldn't take long, I'll continue writing for this fic. Maybe I'll also write a one-shot about the goblin camp once that arc ends in canon!
(1) : an adverse opinion or leaning formed without just grounds or before sufficient knowledge.
(2) : injury or damage resulting from some action of another in disregard of one's bodily integrity.
Or, they fight then they fuck.
TW: Explicit sexual content, blood, choking.
Fresh autumn breeze chilled the knight as she kindled the fire. Her cold eyes remained fixed on the growing flame as it ate at the wood, purposefully ignoring the side glances the goblin shot at her. He wore his gnomish attire, comfortable for an evening at the improvised camp.
“You look too much like a deserter.” He looked her up and down. “You need to change.”
She sighed, finally acknowledging his gaze. “Into what?”
“Something less conspicuous,” he said, eyeing her weathered axe.
She glanced sideways. “I’m not dropping the armour nor the axe.”
“Why not?” He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining her for any signs of contempt. He found many.
“Why not?” she repeated the question, coated in distrust.
“I’ve taken this route dozens of times,” he lied. “I know how to avoid its dangers. Even if we encountered bandits, I’m capable of protecting us both.”
She had to laugh, scoffing at the thought of trusting him with her life. “Like you wouldn’t ditch me the very instant it got ugly.”
“I would not!” His words sounded more genuine than he expected. “We need to get you to Myosotis!”
Lilie tsked, looking away.
“I assure you, goblin, I can hold my own.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “Yeah. I saw.” He leaned closer to her, pressing where he knew it’d hurt. “You lost your sword. Quite the display of ability.”
She got up from the log, clenching her teeth, staring daggers at him.
"Have you taken it as given that I've been wasting these months?" She could not remember a two-day period where she hadn’t been sore from training.
His eyebrows rose in a way that managed to be both a question and an insult.
“Stop speaking,” she retorted and turned away, heading for the denser foliage. “Don’t test me, wretch.”
She withdrew, clumsily struggling to remove the heavy chainmail. She was seething, wrestling with whether the conniving man was worth the trouble.
When she returned, Crumbs had cleared the space next to the fire, pushing their belongings aside. He threw a short staff at her feet, holding his sheathed dagger.
The last of the twilight shone across his scowling face.
“Come then, show me,” he taunted her.
Lilie rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Show me your best.” He beckoned her with his hand. “Come.”
She scoffed, bending down to pick up the staff.
With her guard up, she approached the shorter man. Their gazes locked.
He lowered his center, guarding his front with the dagger. She created distance, holding the weapon with two hands straight in front of her. They circled each other. He watched her careful steps. She calculated the reach of his cuts.
He feigned an attack, and she raised the staff, preparing a downward cut. Too high, too great of a window. He lunged, aiming for a double-legged tackle. His shoulder drove into her thighs, his hands sweeping her legs out from under her.
In an instant, the dagger was at her neck. He tsked, getting up. He did not offer her a hand.
Anger boiled inside her as she rose.
“Pathetic.”
When it threatened to spill everywhere, her focus narrowed, fuelled by spite. She took a deep breath and held a lower guard, tilting her staff to the side.
Against an opponent like him, she’d need reaction time and mobility, not reach. The circles grew tighter, her steps more careful. He lunged again, testing her. She stepped back nimbly and sent a wide attack that connected with his forearm. He hissed, rubbing his skin. A slight smile crossed her lips.
Infuriating.
Confident, she threw a quick, low cut. He avoided it, easily side-stepping the stick’s path. He dove, seizing the opportunity. Had she not been preemptively stepping away, she’d have felt the dagger’s sheath carve a path on her stomach.
He threw another cut in quick succession. This time, the staff met his dagger, cutting its path. A solid block. She pushed the staff down against the guard, weakening his hold. He pivoted away, creating distance.
The young knight had improved considerably, if he were being honest. He was not being honest.
Seeing his gaze flicker, she threw a thrust, aiming for his abdomen. He was already sideways before she'd committed to the thrust. He grasped her staff firmly and pulled. As her eyes widened, he got inside her guard and pushed.
She stumbled, letting go of the staff, and tried to step back, only to trip over the goblin’s calf behind her ankle. She fell on her back and the air left her lungs.
This time, she knew where he’d come from.
She couldn’t stop him from straddling her, but her hand shot to his arm before he could put the dagger to her neck, holding it back. He tried to break her grip with his other hand when he was suddenly launched forward. She’d raised her hips, forcing him to use an arm to stabilise himself if he wanted to stay on top.
Before he could react, she snatched the dagger from him and threw it out of his reach.
Containing a growl, he put a forearm to her throat and pressed down. Choking, she still tried to get whatever air he’d allow inside her lungs. She wheezed, struggling to keep the weight off her, pushing away at his chest. His other hand, reaching for his boot, went unnoticed.
She felt the cold tip of a knife teasing the skin under her jaw.
She blinked at him, eyes wide before going back to her usual scowl. Yellow eyes tracked her every movement.
"You…" she trailed off, voice rough from the constriction at her throat.
“You need to learn when to surrender, girl,” he muttered, breathless. “Give up.”
An audible whistle stained her breath as she struggled against him. It was useless, he wouldn’t budge. Fear threatened to slip in. He almost felt bad.
A tinge of worry tainted his face as he watched her lose strength beneath him, her gasps for air getting weaker. Her icy eyes fluttered, rolling back. He’d gone too far. He released some of the pressure.
She held the cool edge of his own knife to his throat as dark blood trickled from his nose down his cheek. He could feel her still-wheezing breath on his face.
As soon as she felt the shiv leave her skin, her fingers wrapped around his free wrist and pulled it across his body, elbowing his face. His balance went. She planted her foot flat against the ground, and with everything she had, she threw her hips up.
He toppled sideways. She turned with him, chest to chest, refusing to let the momentum die. The ground met his back. Before he could shake the surprise from his eyes, she was straddling him, her knees pressing snug against his sides. She leaned forward, pinning one of his arms down.
“Give-” She turned her face and coughed, clearing her strained airway. “Give me a good reason not to choke you out, goblin.”
After an experimental struggle, he went limp, catching his breath. He put his free hand to his nose, feeling moisture drip. He stared at his blood-covered fingers and hissed.
“Isn’t this a good enough revenge?” He turned his hand, showing her.
She considered it, letting the shiv’s sharp tip kiss the stubble under his jaw. Something twitched under her pelvis. She rolled her hips against it lightly. He chuckled.
“You’re cruel, toying with me like this.” His pupils widened, swallowing the saffron irises.
“Give up, then.” She didn’t let go of the steel hold on him. “Or find a way out.”
“I don’t know why you want to be a knight. You’d be a much better fit as the town’s inquisitor.”
“Shut up.”
She rocked her hips again, this time with intent. He sucked a breath through his teeth and looked down at where their bodies met, biting the tip of his tongue. He put his free hand to her hip, holding onto it. He held her gaze as he lifted his hips, grinding against her.
She tsked, feeling a blush spreading on her face. She sat up and let go of his arm, focusing on the feeling.
Without a warning, he had toppled her once more and settled his body between her legs.
He angled the shiv at her body, threatening her liver.
“I have to say, I’m impressed.” He leaned closer to her, his dark blood dripping on her dress. “Wanna keep going, princess?” His deadly sweet words tickled her lips.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She nodded, mouth agape.
She, however, pushed the shiv away from her and turned around on her stomach in an attempt to escape the too-vulnerable position.
Grave mistake.
He easily took her back, setting himself on top of her. He manoeuvred her body, turning her on her side slightly where her liver was exposed, and pushed the shiv’s tip against the soft skin once more.
The difference between their heights wasn’t so noticeable in this position. His head was right by her ear. A hard length pressed against her ass.
“Never turn your back on the enemy, darling. It’s dangerous,” he cooed.
Her skin prickled.
“Fuck off.” Her insides fluttered with tension and arousal.
“You know,” he whispered, calm and collected. “You’re gonna have to explain that thing you were doing before.” He could hear her panting in the crisp evening air. “Whatever you want, you gotta ask nicely.”
Lilie turned her head to him with something meant to be a glare on her face.
“Like you’d do what I asked.” She mumbled against her shoulder.
He chuckled softly.
“Try me." His deep, breathy voice made her heart skip a beat. “I can be so obedient when I want to.”
Her insides swirled in anticipation. His hand found the short, soft hair on her nape, and he tangled his fingers in it, pulling lightly.
Sharp fang-like teeth grazed the shell of her ear. The pressure from the shiv returned. She grabbed a fistful of fresh grass, quietly planning his demise.
She turned her head, and their lips met. No tenderness to be found as she bit down on his soft flesh.
He growled, deep and animalistic against her mouth. He pulled back just enough to turn her back around and lunged to kiss her, rough and hungry, nipping at her lips and tongue. She moaned into it and held him by the neck of his shirt, biting in return. She could taste his black blood on her mouth, iron and death and passion.
His jagged kisses travelled down her jaw into the soft of her throat. He found a spot where he could feel the pulsing of her frantic heart, and he dragged his tongue across the skin. He bit down, hard enough to make her yelp, and sucked on the sensitive flesh. Peppering vicious kisses and languid licks until the flesh turned purple. Lilie’s head felt light, and her face burnt. He pulled away, contemplating his work.
“Did you leave a mark?” She'd have liked to sound threatening.
“Mhm, I did,” he purred as he caressed the bruised skin with the back of his fingers. “Are you gonna get shy about it?”
She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed, her face flushed to the tips of her ears. He heard her mumble something that sounded like "too many clothes...”
He sat up, kneeling, and removed his dirty shirt. Under the fire’s glow, old scars caught the light.
She took off her surcote and they held each other’s gaze. She slid her trousers down her long legs, leaving her simple cream-coloured top and panties.
He watched as her eyes travelled around his body, taking him in. He palmed his erection through the fabric of his pants, showing off.
With a half-lidded scowl, she pushed him down on his back. She climbed on top of him and aligned her core to his length. She put her hands on his chest, feeling muscle ripple beneath, and rocked her hips, grinding against him. Not for his, but for her own pleasure.
His small sounds of appreciation made her insides melt.
She wrapped a hand around his throat and felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He made a show of it, his panting and light moaning strained under her grip. Half-uttered words in languages she didn’t speak spilt from his blood-stained lips. He dug his nails into her thick thighs. Pre-cum leaked from his tip.
He couldn’t wrench his eyes away from the bruised flesh on her neck. Purple suited her.
A clawed hand reached for her top, waiting for a beat before pulling it up over her soft chest. He desperately needed to put his mouth to her, practically drooling at the sight of her puffy, hardened nipples. There was a weak attempt to topple her again, met with a tighter grip around his throat.
“Stay down,” she commanded, still grinding against his cock, chasing her own pleasure.
His brows knitted together, his expression turning needy.
He continued taking her torturous ministrations and sat up slowly. The hand that wasn’t propping him up found one of her breasts, softly kneading it. His mouth found the other, sucking and lapping at her silky nipple. She moaned, adjusting her movement to give him easier access. She, benevolent, found his tip and rocked against it, drawing muffled sounds from him. He sucked harder at the pink flesh, nipping lightly until it was covered in red and purple spots. She drew sharp breaths. He felt her wet slick dampen his already stained trousers.
“You’re making quite the mess,” he pointed out, looking down at the dark, sodden spot.
“Then take them off,” she retorted, a tint of mockery behind the scowl.
He looked up, glaring, and put a hand on her stomach, guiding her off him. He hooked his fingers into the cloth and lowered it with agonizing slowness, basking in her hungry glare. A thick, heavy shaft broke free, tip leaking heavily.
He moved before she could get back on top. She didn’t fight it and lay back, propping herself by her elbows. He knelt between her thighs and ran his thumb up the damp cloth, the fabric so wet it had turned almost sheer, outlining every fold. He took his finger to his mouth and coated his tongue with her slick, savouring her.
He pulled them down as she raised her hips and put his hands on the back of her knees. He pushed her legs forward, exposing her pussy to the cold forest’s air. She flushed crimson as his gaze travelled from her dripping slit, up to her face, and back down again. He leaned forward, and her soft thighs squished his long ears.
He dragged a long tongue up her wet core, still looking deep into her icy eyes. The knight let out a sharp breath and let her head hang back, moaning softly.
The goblin devoured her, messy and hungry and loud. It would be mistaken for worship, were it not for his obvious efforts to draw embarrassing sounds from her. He sucked and tongued at her plush folds, not quite focusing on her swollen nub. The filthy noises of his face buried in her dripping cunt filled the air.
He stopped suddenly.
“Too proud to look down, are we?”
Lilie glared at the goblin. His lips and jaw were covered in slick, and her juices dripped down his chin, mixed with what was left of the dark blood. Her cunt fluttered at the sight.
“Goblin, I swear,” she panted, breathless. “I swear I’ll gut you if you don’t stop talking.”
“I’d love to see you try, knight.” He dove back down immediately, lapping and suckling at the sensitive nub. He grazed it with careful fangs, just enough to make her jolt.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Mm-hm.”
She tangled her fingers in his dark hair and pulled tighter against her core. He chuckled.
This was a command he was willing to obey. If she wanted rough, he’d show her.
Experience guided his tongue’s precise strokes to her aching clit. Over and over and over. Drawing out her pleasure. No doubt, better than she could ever manage by herself, he rushed her towards her climax.
Her hips jerked against his mouth as she drew closer; soft gasps turned to whimpers under his merciless ministrations.
Too soon for her wounded pride, she came in scorching waves, flooding his senses. He swallowed her pleasure, greedy and arrogant.
Oversensitive and shaking, she pushed his face away from her dripping cunt.
She lay there, panting as she recovered, slowly coming back to the forest. He sat up, kneeling, and released one of her legs. He wiped his damp chin, and his wet hand wrapped around his veiny shaft, smearing her juices on it.
Her panting steadied, one shallow breath at a time.
He rested his heavy head at her slick entrance and stroked himself lazily, rubbing the tip up and down her swollen folds. The look on his face, a sneering grin, silently daring her to speak, either to beg or curse him out. She clicked her tongue, frustrated by his teasing, and glared at him.
He didn’t budge, circling her opening. Softly pressing down, only to pull away again. Her hand drifted toward the discarded shiv nearby.
An exasperating, soft laugh escaped him, and he slowly pushed his girth inside, dragging against the tight, burning walls, stretching her. A long, shaky moan escaped them both.
He sank to the hilt and paused, letting her adjust while he drank in the sensation.
Then he began to move with slow, careful thrusts, watching her face closely. Her half-lidded eyes and parted, panting lips showed nothing but pleasure.
“I don’t think you understand who’s in charge here.”
Her words rang in his head right before he slammed into her without warning. He fucked her puffy cunt in short, punishing strokes. He gave her only a few brutal thrusts before grabbing her legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Leaning forward, he drove even deeper, folding her in half beneath him.
Her eyes flew wide and she gasped, cursing viciously under her breath. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the moans spilling out of her. Every aggressive slam sent a shock of overwhelming fullness through her core. He was so deep it felt like he was rearranging her insides, the head of his cock kissing her cervix with every savage stroke. A burning stretch mixed with too-intense pleasure that made her walls flutter around him. Her clit throbbed painfully with every slap of his hips. Her head was starting to feel light, and she dug her nails into the grass and dirt, clawing at the ground.
The forest echoed with the filthy, wet sounds of him fucking in and out of her. His own pace was betraying him, bringing him too close too soon against the scorching velvet inside, clenching and rippling around him.
With a muffled curse, he bit hard into her thigh to silence his own desperate sounds. She was pulling him in deeper, tighter, against his will. He was too close.
He yanked himself out with a growl and flipped her onto her stomach. He panted, his throbbing cock still on edge. He climbed on top of her. She could feel the frantic hammering of his heart against her toned back.
He curled an arm around her throat. She didn’t fight it, wrapping her fingers around it.
Pulling her closer, he squeezed her throat lightly. Her breath hitched, getting slower. He pushed himself back inside with a sharp exhale. Each of his hard, deep thrusts rutted against the sensitive spot inside her.
Barely holding on, voice hoarse and strained, he rasped right against her ear.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear with every brutal thrust. Low, animalistic grunts escaped him, raw and broken, each one vibrating straight into her ear. He tried to muffle them by pressing his open mouth against her bruised neck, but it only turned the sounds into wet, trembling moans and shaky, desperate breaths that sent shivers down her spine.
Scorching, silky heat gripped his cock with every thrust, her walls fluttering and clenching around him as if trying to pull him even deeper. The obscene, wet squelch of her dripping cunt and wheezing breaths filled his ears, drawing him close to the edge once more. His rhythm faltered, turning erratic and desperate. Harsh grunts poured out of him, guttural, almost pained. Each one hot and ragged against her ear. He couldn’t hold them back anymore. A deep, trembling growl tore from his throat as he fought the rising pressure, teeth grazing her purple skin while his hips snapped forward with needy, stuttering thrusts.
“Can I come inside?”
Her lips curved, wicked.
“Say please.”
“What?” he almost whined.
She snickered, eyes narrowed, looking back at him. Her sore throat struggled against his bicep.
“Say it.”
The denial made his cock twitch hard inside her. He was already leaking, a thick drop of cum oozing out against his will. His hips stuttered.
“Please, let me come inside.” His voice cracked. “Please.”
She let the silence hang for one torturous second, then gave a single nod, parted lips and glassy eyes.
With a broken growl, he slammed into her and came violently, flooding her cunt in thick, pulsing ropes. He sank his teeth into her shoulder to muffle the desperate, animalistic sounds tearing out of him as he throbbed and emptied himself deep inside her.
His spent thrusts slowed, growing lazy and shallow. Lilie hissed sharply as pain flared from the bite marks on her shoulder. He tasted blood on his tongue and slowly loosened the chokehold around her throat. Without thinking, he dragged his tongue over the small punctures, lapping at the broken skin while he rode the final weak pulses of his orgasm.
He stayed buried inside her, lazily fucking his cum deeper with a few slow, deliberate strokes.
“Mighty warrior indeed. Is this how you usually best your opponents?" she teased, looking back.
He clicked his tongue.
“Only the ones I don't actually deem threats.” He pulled out of her and sat up.
“You get hard at having a knife pressed at your throat.” Her smile could be heard in her words.
The goblin spread her folds with two clawed thumbs. Cum dripped out of her under his attentive gaze, pooling between her closed legs.
One, two drops of black blood fell on her fair skin. He wiped the fresh trail under his nose with the back of his hand.
He dismounted her, and as she turned over onto her back, he closed the distance between them. He lifted her chin with two arrogant fingers and whispered in her ear.
“Your cunt is so pretty, full to the brim with my cum.”
He placed a chaste, bloodied kiss to her flushed cheek.
They were fully soaked by the time Crumbs spotted the old building.
The abandoned warehouse had served as a smuggling spot years ago, and the wooden structure now stood unkempt and forsaken.
Lilie's eyes were not made to see in the dark as his were, and she trailed behind him, shivering and panting in exertion. She felt the wound at her side throbbing. They needed a hot, dry place to sleep in.
The inside was simple, a sand and hay floor peppered with empty crates and plain, mostly unbroken furniture. The roof successfully kept them from the now-pouring rain.
One of the crates served as dry wood for the fire, and once it roared, Lilie rushed to take her many dripping layers off. Crumbs stood as close to the burning wood as possible, trying to warm his freezing hands.
Leaving everything but her pants and underwear to dry, she crouched next to Crumbs.
He studied the wound that peeked from under her binding cloth. It didn't look too bad, but she was in rough shape, still shivering violently. He took his still partially dry gnomish shirt from his pack and stood behind her.
With the shirt in his hands, he began drying her dripping hair, squeezing the rainwater from her golden locks. He thought he heard a small, content sigh.
After drying his own hair as much as he could, he went back to his pack and got his tools and materials out.
She watched him intently as he worked. First, he burnt the belladonna essence and white poppy oil, infusing the thick fibres of the esparto grass with the smoke, careful not to breathe it in. Once the fibres were imbued and warm, he carefully selected a few strands and got to mending the small figurine. Lilie, no longer shivering, observed every move of his deft fingers. She noted, captivated, how his long, thick claws didn’t seem to bother him, even for such delicate work.
He inspected the figurine, polishing small details as the thick needle hung from his lips. Lilie stared at the scar he’d shown her once, mesmerised. A pink tongue peeked out from between sharp teeth.
“You’re gonna burn a hole in my mouth if you keep ogling like that,” he mumbled lazily, not taking his eyes off the trinket.
Her attentive gaze soured into her usual scorn.
“I’m not ogling,” she muttered defensively, not looking away.
“You’re staring.” He furrowed his brow in fake worry. “I’m not that ugly, am I?”
Lilie tsked.
“It’s just…” she trailed off, languid, almost a murmur. “’m curious about your teeth.”
The goblin smiled smugly, putting the needle and amulet away. He turned to face the knight, locking half-lidded eyes with her. Warm firelight danced in his eyes as he leaned in, closing his half of the distance. His lips parted, and his mouth hung open, exposing a full set of sharp canines. Lilie, her face fully flushed, approached cautiously. She held his chin with two fingers, and, holding her breath, she ran the pad of her thumb across the tip of his fangs. He leaned into her touch, watching for her reaction, patiently letting the knight explore his mouth, like a well-trained dog.
Her finger ventured deeper, finding his wet tongue. He closed his teeth, biting softly.
“I can put it to use if you like.” She felt his deep voice vibrate around her finger.
She swallowed thickly, and her already aroused cunt clenched around nothing.
“You sound desperate,” she accused him, her voice breathless.
“I am,” he laid out, voice coated in hungry desire. “Do you want me to beg for it?”
He tilted his head to the side, never taking his piercing gaze off her.
A breath passed.
“Take this off,” she commanded, pulling at his still wet jerkin.
Fire pooled in his abdomen. On his knees, he slowly undid the buttons on the side of his vest, revealing his toned body. His olive skin was adorned with dark hair and pale scars. He discarded the damp garment and drew closer as she lay back on the blanket, creating a space between her legs for him.
He set a hand on the inside of her thigh, caressing as he reached for the drawstring keeping her hose in place. He’d be trembling were he not as experienced. As he got closer, he noticed her deep breaths and light shuddering. She was nervous. Her hardened nipples peeked through the cloth covering her chest, and thin, almost white down covered her stomach, catching the light.
He undid the knot and hooked his fingers on the edge of her pants and braies. She felt warm where their skins met. Before pulling down, he gazed at her.
In her eyes, her pupils were blown wide, leaving a thin ring of grey iris. She chewed on her lower lip, looking down at him, still frowning. Her raising her hips was all the answer he needed.
The rise of her clothes travelled down at a leisurely pace. Exposing first the bones of her wide hips, then short, dark blonde curls that converged in the line at her centre. He felt her shaking as she closed her legs, lifting them to allow him to remove the garment completely. Small scars of her own peppered the skin of her legs and stomach here and there, and she shone in the warm radiance of the fire. He took it all in, feeling tight everywhere. She returned her leg to his other side, baring herself to him, face impossibly warm. The wet flesh of her slit glinted under his gaze, and he sank down, deliberately slow, lying on his stomach.
His left arm went under her leg, steadying himself on his elbow, and his right hand held onto the soft skin of her inner thigh.
He made his tongue soft and wide and closed the distance, feeling and tasting her as he softly spread her folds in tentative strokes. His heart fluttered.
A shaky exhale left her, and she clutched the fabric of the blanket, making a fist.
Tortuous, slow, soft licks made her head light; it was too much and too little all at the same time, and when she peeked down half-lidded, almost entirely black eyes met hers. He held her gaze, exhaling against her cunt with a light moan as he drove his hips against the floor. It was almost too much to witness.
“Thank you,” his voice came muffled and distorted, and he, seeking her reaction, added pressure against her sensitive clit.
She threw her head back, covering her face with an arm.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” breathless gasps carried the threat.
He tightened his hold onto her and increased the pace and precision of his lapping, not wanting to test her patience. His experienced strikes found her most sensitive spot over and over, building slow but steady pressure.
The sounds of her pleasure became louder with each caress of his tongue, and he felt her start to twitch. So he stopped, pulling away just enough to get a good look at her drenched pussy. Her scowl came immediately, and he met her gaze with a mischievous look.
He pulled at one side with his thumb, holding her dripping cunt open, and he lapped at her hole before sliding his long tongue inside her. He savoured her depths, focusing on a rough spot on the upper side. She stared at the ceiling in disbelief, panting. He could feel her insides pulsing around him, pulling him in.
She tasted divine, all he had so often dreamed of. And her voice, coming undone in front of him, was addicting. He needed to hear it more, louder, with no control or shame or guilt to be heard over it.
He hoped, knew, she’d trust him as two clawed fingers moved to take his tongue’s place. His hand provided much more precision and strength than his mouth ever could, and, carefully, he massaged the sensitive spots he’d found inside her.
He looked up at her, chin glistening, and kissed the soft skin of the thigh he was now digging his nails in. She propped herself up on her elbows and started grinding her hips, softly fucking herself on his fingers.
Desire and self-disgust fought inside him at the thought of putting his leaking cock inside her, and he bit down, grunting, on the wet flesh he’d kissed, earning a hiss.
Her loud moans filled and echoed in the room, and as their eyes met again, there was no trace of anger or disdain on her blushing face. There was a plea for more in her furrowed brows. The goblin shifted slightly, finding a position where his arm wasn’t as clumsy, and he picked up the pace. She put a hand on his shoulder, steadying herself against his merciless attack. He worked inside her, scissoring, twisting and curling until she wailed, drowning the obscene squelching sounds of his fingers fucking in and out of her. The hand on his shoulder left a path of hurt where her nails had dug in, and he rutted against nothing, desperately seeking any kind of friction.
“Please,” her heavenly voice was both begging and command.
Out of breath, he got on his knees again and undid the loincloth still covering him. He bared himself, exposing short black hair, and his painfully hard cock. His thick, veiny shaft throbbed, covered in slick precum.
He sank down again, putting his mouth to her eagerly, reproducing every small movement he noticed had made her tick.
The goblin shifted his hips and wrapped a wet, slick hand around his quivering cock, pumping hard. He instantly knew he’d be able to push himself over the edge as soon as he wanted.
He sucked on her clit relentlessly, stroking it with the hard tip of his tongue, and she felt his vulgar moans reverberate around it. She tangled both hands in his dark hair and pushed his head against her core, urging him to give her all he had.
She was close, and the closer she was, the harder she ground her cunt against his panting mouth, the more painful the pull on his scalp. Louder whimpers, a room filled with muttered pleas, and her dripping pussy, creamy white oozing out of her as she reached her climax. He swallowed it all greedily.
Everything burned and she came, hard, quiet, every muscle tensed, twitching in his mouth. Tightening the grip on his shaft, he followed, groaning and growling against her pussy, spilling white, thick seed on his hand and blanket. His hand matched his tongue’s pace, and he didn’t stop lapping until she physically recoiled, even when it meant overstimulating his sensitive dick. Her legs twitched, spent, and her stomach rose and fell, trying to catch her breath.
Lilie let go of the painful grasp on his head, her hand now lazily caressing his hair, combing the mess with her fingers. A thin sheen of sweat covered their overheated bodies, too close to the roaring fire.
He sat up next to her, gazing with disdain at the puddles of cum and slick on his blanket. Heartbeat by heartbeat, they came back to reality, where the pouring rain outside could still be heard. The faint pain of the wound on her side made itself known again, demanding attention.
He wiped the arousal off his face with the hand that wasn’t covered in his own come, and sighed, avoiding her gaze.
He pointed back at the door with his thumb.
“I’m gonna…” He didn’t finish the sentence as he got up.
“Yeah, okay." Lilie hugged her legs.
Outside, the falling water lashed at him, washing everything off his scarred skin. He let his head hang back, hoping the rain’d take the tightness of his chest away. He could feel a pair of eyes on him every time he blinked.
Inside, Lilie dries herself. Gets dressed. She places a couple of rations by the fire. Her insides swirl. And she can’t tell where feelings start and end in her tangled intestines.
Green, Knight - Chapter 6: Belladonna, white poppy and esparto.
Surely, the best strategy to infiltrate a town involves some kind of bondage. All good strategies do!
TW: non-explicit kink content
Other chapters.
Middas of the Third Week, Second Moon of Fall
We made it across the Vestas. I got nicked on the ribs, and he sewed the wound after. The green paste he used has worked wonders, even though it burns badly at first.
He does not pester me as much lately, and I see him wear a strangely penitent expression.
Perhaps all I see is my own worry reflected in him.
Warm afternoon sun fell through the leaves above them as the goblin and the knight sat on a thick, fallen log. Lilie’s many layers were partly lifted, exposing the rapidly closing wound.
The damp bandages lay discarded on the forest floor, red and green patches staining them.
As he wiped the cataplasm away, the wound seemed well. The torn skin didn’t look too angry or inflamed.
“It looks good,” he said calmly as he searched through his pack. “This once the po’mɑðæ shouldn’t be as painful.”
She rolled her eyes, pulling her clothes a bit higher.
Crumbs scooped a small dollop with his middle finger and put the container away. He coated the wound with a thin layer of medicine, softly tracing the line where skin met skin again. His other hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder not to move. Goosebumps rose against his fingertips.
Her exposed skin was a mess, covered in red marks from the tight dressing, and fading colourful bruises where the boar had trampled her. Red, yellow and purple stood out against her fair complexion.
She studied him from above, distracting herself from the sting of the pomade. Her brow furrowed.
“Crumbs,” she called. “Is your trinket alright?”
He looked down at his trusty amulet. The thick grass binding had come undone, leaving the structure loose.
He cringed, cursing softly in a language she didn’t recognise.
“Shit.” He took it off, examining it in his hands for a moment. “It can be repaired, and there’s an apothecary in the town we’re headed to. They sell what I’d need there.”
“Then you can hide on the outskirts, and I’ll get it.” She got up, pulling her garments down.
He covered his face with his hands, groaning.
“It’s not that simple. I have to be there.”
She put her hands on her hips, letting her head drop in thought.
Silence surrounded them, and a thought bit at the goblin’s lungs.
He buried his face deeper into his hands, feeling a blush creep onto his weathered cheeks.
“I could enter as your prisoner.”
Lilie turned around, eyes wide. Her mouth hung open, but no words came out.
He didn’t dare look at her. Not while his heart pounded in his chest like this.
“I’d be a… bounty hunter?” She could definitely play the part.
“Ye.” He was terribly focused on the leaves at his feet. “There’s a knot I know, the thumb knot.” A keen ear could’ve caught a stutter. “It looks firm and holds well, but can be undone in an instant, even by the captive. It’d be safe.”
He took a deep breath, ridding himself of the embarrassment. He got up and reached for the hemp rope in his pack. He beckoned to the longleg.
“Give me your hands. I'll show you.” He barely took his eyes off the cord.
“Crumbs.”
When he finally looked, an amused smile threatened to replace the scowl on her face.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, sitting on the log and offering her wrists to the goblin.
“You already treat me like I’m vermin, so the act will surely be convincing.” He stepped closer, unravelling the bundle. “The town isn’t heavily guarded either.”
He looped the rope once around her wrists, leaving it loose enough to slide.
“See here,” he said quietly, guiding the cord with deft fingers. “You cross the line over the thumb, like so, and tuck the bight beneath it. Pull it close, and it’ll seem tight enough to hold a troll.”
He cinched it gently, then turned her bound hands so she could see the knot.
She struggled against the bind experimentally, trying different directions with increasing force. The hemp felt rough against her skin.
“But the trick is this.” His index finger pulled the small hidden loop. The knot slackened at once and slipped free. “The captive only needs to press there and draw the cord. To anyone watching, it looks honest work.”
She hummed, quietly running through different scenarios in her mind. As Crumbs changed into his goblin attire, she mostly averted her eyes, practising the loops of the knot.
He approached her, holding his hands in front of him.
A shadow of doubt crossed her face.
“You understand I might need to rough you up, yes?” She looked deep into his eyes, half worry, half tease.
“Nothing you haven’t done before.” He smirked.
Lilie tsked and started working on his hands, making the knot visibly tight and uncomfortable.
That same rope went around his waist and ended at Lilie’s belt, limiting his hands’ movement and keeping him close.
She crossed her arms, examining her work. Crumbs attempted to break free without using the loop, smiling with satisfaction when he couldn’t.
“When we get to the apothecary, let me speak. The chemist is a bit strange,” he trailed off.
The bounty hunter hummed in approval and procured clean bandages from her pack. She lifted her eyebrows, silently asking him for permission.
He groaned.
“Let’s get this over with.” His insides fluttered as he turned his back to her.
From behind, a strip of cloth wrapped around his lips.
Her hand found his chin and gently coaxed his mouth open, settling the folded fabric between his teeth.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked, adjusting the tightness of the knot behind his head.
Crumbs turned around and gave her an annoyed look. Unintelligible sounds came out of him, muffled against the gag.
“Just let me know if you’re about to choke on your spit.” The knight suppressed a wide smile, struggling to keep her composure.
With the neck of her chainmail pulled up, covering her lower face, Lilie looked the part. Icy, sharp eyes studied the small town they approached. A lone guard stood to attention by the gate.
“Halt.” A middle-aged woman cut their path. “What brings you here?”
“I need supplies from the apothecary. I will leave as soon as I find them,” she asserted, leaving no room for discussion.
“And what is it that you need?” The knight tightened the grip on her spear.
“I was wounded, and I'm running out of medicine,” the half-truth fell from her lips easily.
“I can get the barber to come out.” She scanned them both with eyes full of suspicion.
“No. I need the apothecary's remedies.” She tilted her head to the side.
The guard’s eyes fixed on the bound goblin as she approached the pair.
“And you're certain he's under control?” She cocked a brow.
Lilie stepped forward, just behind Crumbs.
“He would've ran away by now if he could.”
She kicked the back of his leg, making the battered goblin fall to his knees.
She acted on instinct. She found stopping to think more detrimental than helpful in situations like this.
She crouched and wove her fingers through the back of his head. Her hand formed a fist and pulled down, painfully forcing his head back. A low, muffled groan seeped from behind the gag.
“He's smart enough to understand that behaving is in his best interest.” Her words dripped right by his ear, and a twinge of fear crawled through his body, making his stomach swirl.
His sensitive ears picked up the sound of his trusty knife leaving its sheath, and his dark eyes widened, frantically looking to the side. He tried to turn his head, but Lilie’s firm grip corrected the movement, forcing him to look up at the guard.
A strangled whimper left him as he felt the cold steel of his dagger against his neck. The guard seemed to almost pity him, not taking her eyes off him. He felt the tip as it dragged down the skin of his jugular, past his Adam's apple, until it reached his collarbone. He bit down on the gag, trembling. The pointed end sank lightly into his skin, drawing pain and dark blood.
His stifled pleas bit at Lilie's heart. He was trembling, his hands perfectly still. She stared at the sentinel from below, masking her laboured breathing.
The older woman rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned around, walking back to the gate.
“You'll find the apothecary on the west side of the road.” She looked at them over her shoulder. “Leave as soon as you've done your business.”
The masked woman released her grip on the goblin’s hair, and he let out a breath through his nose.
She pulled the rope, standing up.
“Walk, wretch,” she spat, the words dripping with disdain.
The small town had no more than ten buildings on each side of the main road.
A green and purple sign dangled in front of one of the wooden structures. It was written in a Fae dialect Lilie did not recognise. Intense flowery and chemical smells filled the air as they approached the ornate door.
Crumbs looked back over his shoulder, shooting Lilie a questioning look that she met with a small nod.
She pushed the door open with a gloved hand, letting the bound goblin enter before her. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
When her eyes adjusted to the dark inside, she crouched behind the short man and untied the muzzle.
“Are you okay?” she whispered into his scarred ear.
The wet cloth fell, and he groaned softly, massaging the sides of his cramped jaw.
“Aye,” he murmured.
Pots, live plants and bundles of all kinds of flowers and herbs filled the cramped space. A shelf, filled to the brim with all manner of jars, vials and flasks, occupied the wall beyond the counter.
His yellow eyes roamed the room, looking for the familiar clerk.
A humanoid Fae stood by the bar. Its pale, grey complexion stood out against the pitch-black of its eyes. A long curtain of straight, inky hair fell around it in a neat middle part, framing its neutral, browless expression.
A bony hand with long fingers pushed several small packages towards the goblin.
He approached and examined the wrappings.
His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Thank you, but I don’t need lavender," he pleaded, pushing the small bundle back.
The tall stranger blinked slowly at him, tilting its head ever so slightly.
Phthalo-green frills glided over the wood as the Fae insisted, holding the infusion-filled box down on Crumbs’ end of the table.
“I don’t need it, and I can’t pay for it.” His brows raised in worry as he took an almost empty flask from their package. He diverted his eyes from it as he slid it on the table. “Belladonna, white poppy and esparto. No lavender.”
The apothecary stared at him silently.
He turned around, ready to leave. He pulled at the copper handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He returned to the counter sheepishly. Endlessly black eyes stared through him, blinking owlishly with vertical lids.
He took the packet, gazing at the chemist, and went for the door.
“Wait.” Lilie’s voice called softly behind him. She held up the cloth.
Lilie nodded at the guards as they left the small town. They exchanged glances, pitying the goblin’s fate.
“We should enter the woods as soon as we’re out of sight,” she whispered.
The goblin hummed in response, then groaned in discomfort.
She stared at him from behind and yanked the rope suddenly, causing him to trip but catching him before he fell. He turned around partially, scowling at her.
“Eyes to the front, vermin. They can still see us,” she mocked him, testing his temper.
He replied with a string of sounds that could be interpreted as a threat.
The pernicious knight looked over her shoulder after a while, checking whether or not the town could be seen. When it couldn’t, she grabbed the gag from behind, startling the prisoner once again, and began untying the knot.
“You, fucking…” he started.
Lilie cut him off, pushing him toward the thick treeline.
“Yes, yes, I know,” she cooed, her words drenched in too-sweet condescension.
When they were sufficiently deep into the forest, she pulled them to a stop, crouching by his side.
She took off her gloves and held his cold, bound hands in hers.
“You didn’t need to wait for me to take them off, you know.”
She began undoing the rope around his waist and wrists. The skin beneath them raged, reddened and raw. She rubbed it soothingly, returning blood flow to the area.
His face felt hot.
“It’s the least you could do after tormenting me like that.”
She handed him her full waterskin, and he drank eagerly. When he was done, she took a clean cloth, dampened a corner, and guided his face upward with a hand at his neck, thumb under his jaw and fingers at his nape.
He suppressed a groan as she dragged the cold fabric down his neck, following the same path his knife had. It stung.
“I’m almost relieved all you did was manhandle me.” He could barely focus on anything other than her hand on his jugular. “You’re cruel.”
She scowled at him, still wiping at the small wound gently.
“You also played your part nicely.” She locked eyes with him. “It was very convincing.”
Lilie slid her hand towards his scalp, still glaring. She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled down lightly. He failed to hold back a strangled moan.
His face flushed, feeling his cock harden. He looked away, trying to divert attention.
She pulled harder.
“Evil,” he panted. “You’re entirely evil.”
Lilie’s eyes widened when she noticed the lengthy swelling under his loincloth.
In the silence, the sound of rapidly approaching hooves brought them back to earth.
They ducked, eyes locked on the main road from behind the trees.
“They can’t be far!” Three longleg horsemen galloped down the dusty road.
Lilie swallowed thickly.
“We need to move. I know a place where we could rest.” He looked up at the stirring sky. “It looks like it might rain soon, too.”
Writing chapter 6 has me panting at the keyboard like a damn dog and after reviewing the plot my partner has accused me of being a "little shit". I think I'm cooking.
Vestas, one of the most important rivers in the land, was known for its green water and its treacherous currents, always turbulent beneath a seemingly calm surface.
“See? Goblin footwear is much better. Easier to replace, won’t cause blisters, won’t break on the road.” He pointed at a hole in the sole of one of his boots, the kind clearly designed for city life.
“What if there are shards of broken glass on the ground?” She raised a brow at him.
He narrowed his eyes, extending his hands in front of him.
“Why would you walk through broken glass?” He shook his head.
“Crumbs. Look ahead.”
Ahead of them, the road crossed a stone bridge guarded by four men.
Yellow eyes studied the group from a distance. Ill-fitting uniforms. Unkempt, irregular weapons. These were not guards. Renegades, maybe. More likely bandits.
“Is... isn’t their flag upside down?” Lilie narrowed her eyes. “The yellow quarter should be in the upper left.”
“Where do you carry your coin?” He murmured, keeping his composure.
She turned to look at him. “Purse and a hidden pocket, evenly distributed,” she lied.
“Shit.”
They kept quiet as they approached the group. They felt their eyes on them. Searching. Evaluating.
“Halt, travellers. Well met.” Two men stood at the bridge’s entrance, cutting them off.
“Well met.” His voice carried a charming smile. “We seek passage.”
“Aye. By The King’s orders, there is now a tax to be paid by those who cross the bridge.”
“Warring is costly, I see. How much is this tax?” he asked innocently.
“Merely twenty pieces of gold. Ten per traveller.” The man rested his hand on the pommel of his sword.
He grumbled as he took out his purse.
“Matter of fact,” the man licked his lips, “it is forty pieces for those carrying magical artefacts. Are you or your companion carrying amulets, charms, or wands?”
“We are not.”
Lilie’s axe hand twitched.
“We will be the judges of that. Lay your possessions on the ground for inspection.” The man smoothed down his greying beard.
“Don’t let your greed make this difficult.” Lilie thought of the captain of her retinue, trying to summon the same commanding presence. “Are you eager to lose a hand?”
She continued, “You will take the twenty pieces of gold and let us through,” she stated, standing tall.
Crumbs kept his innocent, now frightened demeanour while closely observing the men’s movements.
The leader let out a deep, loud laugh.
“How amusing. Come on, knight. Dance with me.” The steel of his sword hissed against the throat of his scabbard. “Let’s see who gets to keep their hands.”
Crumbs finally dropped the act.
“Lillie, don’t.”
“Quiet, gnome. One step and this stops being a duel.” The bandit settled into a right hanging guard.
Lilie stepped forward before the words had quite left his mouth.
The axe came up quick and bright in the sunlight.
Steel rang. His blade caught the first swing and slid off with a curse. She pressed him hard, boots grinding in the mud, striking again with more fury than form.
“Reckless brat,” he spat, cutting low.
The edge dug in her side. Her chainmail absorbed most of the force, but the tip dragged forcefully across her side beneath the arm, biting through fabric and leaving a shallow red line. She hissed, more from surprise than pain.
She did not step back.
Instead, she surged in, too close for the sword to work cleanly. The bandit tried to bring it around, but the haft of her axe slammed across his wrist. His fingers opened at once.
Before he could recover, she turned the blow and drove the flat of the axe-head hard into his knee.
Something cracked.
The man collapsed with a strangled cry, clutching the leg as it folded beneath him.
Lilie stood over him, chest heaving, a thin line of red darkening her tunic.
The three other men readied their weapons. Two carried pikes. The other, a morning star and shield.
She stepped back, away from the howling man.
She looked down at the goblin, and their eyes met. At the blurry edge of her vision, he uncorked a familiar bottle, pouring its contents over the blade.
“Don’t look, listen. I might need you,” he whispered.
Her gaze shifted to the closest adversary.
“Go hide!” she barked, signalling to him with her hand.
Instinctively, the highwaymen’s eyes focused on the goblin, who kept his dagger raised and his gaze to the side, searching the treeline.
For a breath the men stared.
Then their faces changed.
One of the pikemen staggered back with a gasp, eyes wide as if something enormous had risen before him. The other began shouting, jabbing his weapon wildly at empty air.
Crumbs moved.
He slipped beneath the first thrust and opened the man’s thigh with a quick, shallow cut. The bandit gasped once and sagged where he stood. The second turned too late; the goblin’s dagger kissed his wrist, and he folded a moment later beside his fellow.
The man with the morning star had already broken. He swung at shadows only he could see.
Lilie stepped through the arch and brought the axe haft across his shield, knocking it wide. A flash of long black hair and pointy ears ran through her vision. She looked away.
The bandit blinked and swayed. He collapsed into the mud, next to his terrified, screaming leader.
“Lilie.”
She heard him call out to her.
“Crumbs?” She put her hand to the gash on her side, feeling for wetness, but not daring to look down.
“I’m here.” She felt a hand on hers, gentle but firm. “We have to go.”
Lilie cursed under her breath, fighting the urge to take one last look at the wail-filled battlefield. She kept her eyes forward and away from her companion as they crossed the stone bridge.
There was bright red blood on her hand when she raised it to her eye level. Feeling the unnatural movement of the torn skin made her head light, and she tightened her grip on the goblin’s palm in an attempt to shift her focus. She’d definitely need stitches.
They rushed along the riverside until they arrived at a small pool of clear, slow-moving water and large, flat rocks. Thick trees and vegetation hid them from the road.
“Wait here.” Crumbs’ accent sounded thicker through his ragged breathing.
She could hear him shrug off his pack and bags, their buckles clinking softly as he set them on the ground.
Water splashed against his legs.
“What will happen to them?”
“I dunno,” he said, still catching his breath. “I didn’t expect it to bring them down so quickly.”
He scrubbed his hands and forearms until he couldn’t feel the oil anymore.
“Your hand,” he reached for the one he’d been holding. “There’s oil on it.”
He tugged it down, a silent signal for her to crouch, and sank her calloused hand into the cold water.
“You can look now.” He rinsed it while examining the red gash on her ribs.
When she looked down, his brow was furrowed in concentration, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin.
Once her hand was clean, she raised her arm, exposing the cut, bloodied fabric.
“I can’t see anything through the chainmail." He pursed his lips and reached for his pack.
Lilie took her stained overcoat and armour off. Beneath it, her cream surcote had been ripped by the tip of the sword, along with the skin under it. It wasn’t a clean cut. Seeing layers of tissue that should not be exposed, she sucked in a pained breath through her teeth.
As the last garment came off, a beige linen breastband kept her chest covered.
Crimson blood began dripping from the exposed gash, slow and steady.
Crumbs knelt by her side, needle and thread ready.
“Lay down, please.”
She let out a shaky breath, settling on her back. She brought the back of her hand to her mouth, biting down to muffle the sounds of pain that were to come.
The goblin winced, studying the tear. He shook his head, cleaning the bloodied skin around it with a fresh cloth.
“You’re not afraid of needles, are you?” he asked, arranging the skin back into place.
“I am not.”
“Is there anything you are afraid of?” He didn’t let her answer. “‘Cause it doesn’t look like it. And you should be.”
She moved her hand away from her face, glaring at him.
“Are you under the impression that they would have let us go once your trinket came off?”
His brow furrowed deeper as he began the first stitch.
“I know what happens to goblins better than you.” Genuine anger carried his words. “The fight could’ve been avoided if you’d given me time. If you’d listened to me.”
“And the way you fight,” he continued, exasperated. “You’re wide open. It’s a miracle you’re walking away with only this.”
He pulled at the thread with a gentleness that didn’t match his words.
“You keep throwing yourself at danger. And it keeps working for you.”
“It keeps working for me because I don’t have other options. So I make it work,” she said sternly, looking up at the sky. She could feel each time the needle wove through her skin.
“I don’t do what I want to do. I do what I have to.” Lilie lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “Start fights. Lick boots. Travel with strangers.”
His stitching didn’t falter, close and snug.
“I thought you, of all people, would understand.” Her tone shifted, almost sad.
He cut the thread with his teeth after tying knot over knot and took a deep breath, examining his work.
He paused for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“We should’ve had a plan for something like that.” He wiped the blood off his hands. “Don’t move yet. I’m going to cover it up.”
When he turned to her, she was staring at him intently. He held her pained gaze and placed a warm hand on her exposed stomach.
“How does it feel?” He trailed a finger around her angry, red flesh.
Lilie shifted slightly, moving her arm experimentally.
“I’m fine.”
“Is it better or worse than getting your teeth knocked out?” He teased, producing a jar from one of his many pouches.
“Oh, fuck off," she thought for a moment. “Better.”
He cackled, gathering a green, foul-smelling paste on his fingertips.
“This,” he said, motioning to the paste on his hand, “is going to hurt. Breathe in.”
Her icy eyes widened.
“Wait, wait,” she pleaded, pushing his terrible hand away from her wound. “Crumbs.”
“What.”
“I think we should spar more often.” A deep, red flush covered her cheeks and ears.
“Yes, we will. Now breathe in.” His expression softened.
She removed her hand from his arm, breathing in through her nose with closed eyes; and he smeared the thick plaster on the stitches as gently as he could, rubbing small circles.
As soon as it touched her flesh, it stung and burnt at the cut, making her groan between gritted teeth.
Her hand shot to his thigh to steady herself, gripping hard. The goblin shushed her, and she dug her nails into his flesh, panting and trembling.
He took a deep breath, centering himself.
“All done. Sit up.” He now held a roll of bandages.
He helped her rise, and she chewed on her bottom lip. Sweat beaded on her flushed skin.
Crumbs scuttled closer and wrapped the dressing around her. The embrace made his insides stir, a heavy mixture of want and guilt and something burning he couldn’t name.
As the compress settled, pain subsided, and her breathing returned to normalcy.
She reached for her clothing.
“Wait, let me mend them.”
A familiar blanket was placed on her hand.
She wrapped her body in it and laid on a dry patch. Lilie watched with closing eyes as he washed the crimson out of her garments.
The goblin paused his stitching to look at her sleeping form. She looked peaceful, no trace of the scorn that usually adorned her face. Golden teeth peeked from behind her plush lips. The corner of a star-like rune shone on her fang at the corner of her mouth. He covered his mouth with a hand and breathed deep, a silent sigh.
He clenched his teeth and went back to his sewing. Short, close, snug stitches.
The night had been dry, at least. They had walked for hours through cold rain beneath a sinking sun. Wet clothes and cold bones make for short tempers, and they had been snapping at each other by the time they reached the roadhouse.
It was small, but it had everything a traveller might need. Its walls were stone and mud, the interior all dark wood and low beams, capped with a tiled roof and a small stable to the left. The Magpie’s Nest.
They entered, chattering teeth and dripping clothes, when a voice boomed from behind the bar.
“Take yer boots off before you make a mess of my floor.” A middle-aged fae woman, with frizzy dark hair and a cunning glint in her eye, glared at them from across the room.
Ten to twelve other patrons sat at wooden tables, quietly eating and drinking.
They clumsily took off their drenched, blister-raising shoes without a word. Only when they stood close to the roaring hearth did their shoulders drop, letting go of a breath they didn’t know they were holding.
The warmth emanating from the fire made the tips of their freezing toes ache. They exchanged knowing glances. The amulet continued to work, and once again they would play their roles: a charming gnome and his escort.
“Evening, ma'am," said the gnome, approaching the barmaid.
“Evening, sir. You’re lucky you got here on time. We’ve got the one room left. Your keeper may take the stable, though.”
He didn't look back.
“Aye, that’s a suitable arrangement.” He shifted the subject smoothly. “We took down a mighty boar on the way here. Most of it has been salted and smoked. How much for it?”
He laid the wrapped parcels of meat on the bar.
She examined the produce for a moment, and took the parcels through a door behind her. A kitchen, judging from the smell wafting out of it.
The knight cleared her throat behind him. When he looked back over his shoulder, she was not scowling, but she looked down at him with a piercing glare. A slow smile crept onto his lips.
The maid came back, empty-handed. “That’ll cover your room and dinner, plus thirty pieces of gold.” She leaned on the bar, chewing on a splinter of wood. “Deal?”
Crumbs nodded.
“Your room’ll be the one marked with a shrike. Upstairs to the left,” she said, tossing a key and a satchel of coins.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the goblin said, bowing his head slightly.
They hung their wet capes to dry near the hearth and made their way upstairs, with Lilie keeping a deliberate step behind him.
The doors were adorned with beautiful carvings of various birds. The one to the left portrayed a shrike resting on a branch of hawthorn, gazing into the distance. He opened the door with the iron key and paused at the threshold to glance back at his alleged protector.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Am I not allowed to enter your private quarters, my lord?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Would Your Grace allow me to take my fucking armour off?” She tilted her head to the side.
He smiled, completely unbothered and clearly enjoying the authority his disguise afforded him.
“Would it not be undignified of you to change in front of your master?” he said, feigning concern.
She stepped closer.
“Move, or I’ll make you fight me to keep that charm on you, goblin.”
He thought about it for a second, smiling.
“You know I would,” he said lightly, stepping aside.
She didn’t dignify his words with an answer other than stepping on his toes on the way in.
“Ow, ow, ow!” He held onto his bare foot. “ðɘɾdɒ…”
She took off her chainmail and cuisses, not looking back at him.
“Would it kill you to be a bit nicer to me?” he asked, pouting slightly. “We’re better off together. If you don’t want me around…”
“…just say so.”
She took a steady breath as she dried her protections, letting her head hang.
She weighed it in silence. They certainly were better off together. Still, he had a talent for pressing on every exposed nerve she owned.
She put her overarmour back on before turning to face him. He avoided her eyes, jaw tight as he rubbed at his bruised foot.
“Drink with me.” She walked out, not looking behind.
By the time she reached the bar, two brimming tankards were already waiting.
She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could utter a word, the woman spoke.
“Ale. For you and your protégé."
Lilie’s mouth hung open as she nodded, taking the cups to a strategically secluded table.
She settled into the wooden chair, easing back at last. The rain thudded softly on the roof while the fire crackled in the hearth, filling the tall room with warmth and low murmurs of conversation.
The goblin approached, not limping, she noted, and sat on the chair in front of her.
“Sláinte!” He raised his cup, and she touched hers to it with a soft clink.
They drank deep. The ale, sweeter than expected, went down easily.
She wiped the foam from her lips with the back of her hand and hummed, relishing the fruity taste.
“Tastes like juice. Dangerous stuff.” He set his heavy cup down and reached into his pouch. “Dice?”
“You cheat.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“No, I calculate.” He offered the dice in his open palm. “We don’t need to bet money if you don’t want to.”
“What then?”
“How about a round of Liar in exchange for a question?”
She didn’t have much to lose and a lot she’d like to ask.
“Fine. I’ll start.”
The five dice clinked in her hand as she took them from his rough palm.
She rolled one on the table. A King.
She grabbed a small wooden cup from a nearby table and dropped the other four inside, letting them rattle before slamming the cup upside down onto the table.
She peeked at the result under the tumbler, shielding the sides with her hands.
“Three of a kind,” she announced.
“Liar.” The word came without hesitation.
She frowned. “Why?”
“Come on.” He gestured for her to lift the cup, feigning nonchalance.
“Pffft…” Bust.
“Drink,” he practically commanded.
She gave him a dirty look, studying him over the rim of her tankard as she downed the ale. She stuck her tongue out, trying to rid her mouth of the cloying sweetness.
He scooped up the dice, a cocky smile playing on his lips, and rolled two dice on the table. Jack and Queen.
His expression was unreadable, almost eerie, as he took a quick glance under the cup.
“Two pair.”
She studied his face closely. A one-sided smile tugged at his scarred lip for just a moment.
“Liar!” she nearly sprang from her seat.
A long pink tongue slipped from his mouth in mockery as he revealed his dice: Queen, Jack, Clubs. Two pair.
She covered her face with her hands and groaned.
Two more full tankards of ale waited for her at the bar. The maid gave her a sidelong glance as she scrubbed at a plate.
Lilie carried the offending drinks back to the table, her face already warming from the alcohol.
She sat down and raised her cup, waiting for his to meet it.
Clink.
She drained half the tankard in one go.
The goblin, seemingly unfazed by the ale, drank at a far steadier pace.
“Best out of five?” he asked, sipping languidly from his cup.
She stared at him like she was trying to burn a hole through him, and he held her gaze, unyielding.
She took the dice again. Four into the cup, one left out. Hearts.
She lifted her side of the cup, stone-faced.
“Three of a kind,” she announced.
“What kind?”
“Hearts.” Her jaw clenched.
He leaned forward, slow and deliberate. She raised her brows ever so slightly.
“I see it.”
She smiled, wide and sharp, and his heart dropped.
He revealed the dice: Bust.
“Two to one,” said she.
“Not yet. I can always get lucky.” He scooped the dice into the cup, rattling them and slamming it on the table.
“Four of a kind. Hearts.” He never looked under the cup.
She lifted the cup, her eyes fixed on his, not daring to look down. Just in case.
“Two to one.”
Beneath the cup, only a simple pair of hearts.
She pushed his drink closer, a silent command.
He drained it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
He wiped his lips with his thumb, quietly planning his next move.
He rolled a die on the wooden surface. Clubs. The other four clinked in his cup.
“Two of a kind.”
“What kind?” she echoed.
He stuttered for a moment. “Jacks.”
A false tell. Obviously, he counted on her to call Liar.
“I see it.”
He smiled softly.
Nothing but a bust under the cup: Jack, Queen, Ace, Clubs, and Hearts.
She scowled, wrinkling her nose.
Leaving the Hearts out, she tumbled the other four, keeping them hidden from the goblin’s view.
A small peek.
“Three of a kind.”
He opened his mouth, all but ready to call “Liar,” but he stared at her for a moment instead.
She tried to look neutral, but calm satisfaction softened her face. Her rose-tinted cheeks lifted with the faint curl of her lips. She leaned on the table, resting on her elbows, making herself comfortable. There was a hint of a challenge in her half-lidded eyes.
He settled back in his chair.
“I see it.”
She looked mildly annoyed. He could find four of a kind, but it wouldn’t be easy.
He lifted the cup, revealing a three of a kind. Hearts.
Keeping the trio outside the cup, he put his hand to his mouth, deep in thought.
Meanwhile, she calculated in her head. With two dice left, he had two chances out of six to roll another Heart. Roughly one in three against her. A little higher, if she accounted for a full house. She liked her odds.
The two dice clinked softly against the wooden table.
He gazed at the result, a satisfied smile immediately spreading across his stubbled face.
“Five of a kind.” He held up four and a half fingers.
“Liar!” Her eyes narrowed.
“You wish, girl.”
The cup lifted, revealing two more hearts.
She pushed back from the table, groaning and cursing under her breath.
He scooped the dice quickly before she could notice the thin sheen of spit clinging to them.
He chuckled, amused, and she rolled her eyes at him. She brought her ale to her lips, taking small sips.
“I knew you’d cheat, no innocent hand rolls that well.” She laid back on her chair with crossed arms.
“I didn’t take you for a sore loser.” He said, not meeting her eyes. His hands reached for his bag.
“Fine. Ask away.”
Her blush deepened, remembering the times she’d played truth or dare.
He pondered quietly, stuffing his wooden pipe with dried leaves.
She watched his mouth intently as he lit it with a match. A puff of smoke slipped between his sharp teeth.
“So, you kill Grimwald. You deliver his head to The King on a silver platter. You get honour and recognition,” he shifted his gaze from his pipe to her, as if contemplating her soul. “What then?”
Lilie looked down into her cup. A sad frown crept onto her face.
She hesitated, avoiding his eyes.
“In truth…” The fist not supporting her heavy head tightened. “I am looking for my brother.”
“I have reason to think he’s somewhere in the west, and finding him is all I care about, really.”
He noticed her lip quiver slightly, and his heart sank.
Guilt crept over him, scratching at his lungs and twisting in his gut.
The firelight illuminated her rounded features and golden locks as she stared at her ale, her mind far away.
Crumbs tried to get the right words out. “Don’t worry,” “You’ll find him,” “You’re beautiful.” They all felt like poison on his tongue. So he stared, filling his chest with soot again and again.
She exhaled softly, letting go, and tapped the table between them.
“We should rest, gnome. We have a long way to go yet.”
He swallowed, hard.
“Aye.”
He watched her leave the table and head upstairs, trailing behind her.
With her bedroll and his blanket in her hands, she made her way outside to the stable’s entrance. Two horses rested in their stalls, and she clumsily made her way to the hayloft above.
She set down her bedroll and piled straw beneath her head, making a pillow of sorts. After pulling off her boots, she lay down on her side and closed her eyes.
The world spun around her, and her restless heart pounded in her chest, refusing to let her sleep.
She turned onto her back, feeling hot.
Under her breath, she cursed at the alcohol and the goblin. She had not expected him to read her so well. He had made her feel uneasy under his black and yellow gaze.
“You wish, girl.”
He dares speak to her like that, poking at her every chance he gets. A glutton for punishment.
Her mind wandered to the details of his scarred face. The golden glow of his eyes. His dark, messy hair. The way he’d stuck out his tongue, almost reaching past his chin.
Heat crept up her face, a scarlet blush spreading further to her chest and ears.
She lifted her hips, pulling her hose down her legs but leaving her braies. She caressed her soft curls through them, and reached further, feeling her sensitive flesh under the fabric.
She removed it, not wanting to sleep in wet underwear.
Her hand went to her mouth, gathering spit on the tips of her middle and ring fingers, and she spread it on her already plump folds.
She gasped softly, not expecting such an intense sensation as she rubbed circles on her wet cunt.
She brought her other hand to her mouth and gently bit down on the back of it, in an effort to muffle any sounds that might escape her.
She slowly increased the pressure and speed of her ministrations, only stopping to gather the creamy slick that oozed out of her hole. Her mind kept feeding her flashes of her companion: as he changed and the muscles on his back rippled with movement, as he held her gaze while telling her to kneel, and of his mouth as he stuck his tongue out, all teeth and flesh.
She moaned, clinging onto the image of his still sleepy form in the morning, an evident erection pressing against his pants.
On the other side of the wooden wall, the goblin’s ears perked up for the second time. Sleep had evaded him so far, the weight on his chest too heavy for rest. He cursed his keen senses, picturing the scene. He held his breath, unconsciously, picking up the wet sounds and muffled gasps through the wall.
Something inside him asked, begged, to rush to the stable. He turned to lie on his stomach instead.
High-pitched whimpers and loud breathing poured out of her as she rubbed hard on her puffy, now dripping pussy.
“Fuck.”
He heard her curse, and he couldn’t help but rut uselessly against the mattress, biting down on the pillow.
Her swollen clit throbbed against her fingertips; she was close.
She grabbed a fistful of the blanket and brought it close to her face, breathing in. Leather, cloves and sweat.
She moaned, a little louder than intended. “Please,”
He held onto the mattress, tightening his fists around the sheets, pressing his hard cock to the bed, a futile attempt to alleviate the tension. He so wanted to please her.
Guilt snapped at him, pulling him out of his fantasies before they even began.
By his side, she pushed herself over the edge, pleasure spilling everywhere, rippling through her body as she came in her hand. She panted against the fabric, trembling with raised hips and curled toes.
She slowly relaxed onto her bedroll, a fully satisfied smile creeping on her face.
Green, Knight - Chapter 3: Will you kill me in my sleep?
Other chapters.
She paused mid-chew, turning to him. The goblin saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes, and before she could respond, he raised a brow.
“You’ve already accepted plenty of favours from me. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of tellen me your name.” He feigned offence.
She looked at her bowl, then back at him, swallowing.
“One never knows when dealing with a witch,” she said after a moment, “It is Lilie.”
His stomach dropped.
“And you?”
His voice faltered as the words echoed in his mind again and again. I will kill you in your sleep.
“Uh, Crumbs.”
“Crumbs,” she repeated out loud, “very well.
_______________________________________________
The full moon shone over the temple, casting his white light through the stained glass. A perfect night to reach through the veil.
Lilie slept peacefully on the other side of the room, tucked in her bedroll. Crumbs looked at her, not being able to rest nor discern reality from illusion.
He rose, leaving the warmth of his blanket. He took some of his tools and set bare feet on the cold grass outside. He lowered his wooden bowl, sinking it into the dark lake, not taking his dark eyes off the moon.
He found a muddy surface between the temple and the lake and knelt upon it. He carved runes around him. Exactly as instructed.
Surely, such a powerful substance would grant clear foresight.
He placed the bowl between himself and the lake so it would catch the moon’s reflection. He let a single drop of oil fall upon the surface and closed his eyes.
His mind narrowed to a single thread, conjuring images and memories as sharply as he could. Lilie, Myosotis, Lilie, the path, Lilie, her axe, Lilie.
“Kleə ˈvɪdiəʊ,” he pronounced meticulously. ”ˈTɛmpəʊz, ˈləʊkəs, ˈænɪmə.”
Golden yellow eyes fixed on the image inside the bowl, and dark craters danced, reflected on his dark sclera.
“Mwestɾˈame, θjˈelo,” he pleaded.
One, three, five moons filled his vision, making him nauseous. His mouth hung open and he panted. He had the vague sensation that he was looking not into the bowl, but into the sky itself, as iridescent folds poured over everything.
The stars in the sky morphed into yellow leaves. Within a forest stood a stag crowned with proud, sharp antlers. Its gaze searching into the distance.
From the leaves, oozed red, thick liquid. Blood. Dread filled his chest.
Yellow turned to black as the leaves died, his vision dissipating. He came to, the world still spinning, and he wiped warm, viscous liquid from his face.
Pride surged in his chest. A clear omen, perfect execution.
_______________________________________________
Sunlight entered the temple, waking Lilie with her brightness. She stretched, relishing a good night’s sleep. The space where the goblin slept was now bare. He must’ve woken early.
She gathered her possessions and put on her armour, softly singing to herself. When Lilie stepped outside, she saw her companion crouching by a bush, seemingly gathering herbs.
“Late night and early morning. Were you not tired?”
The man turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder, brow furrowed.
“Aye.” He picked at the thyme, saving the lush sprigs in his bag.
The longlegs drew closer, watching intently as he worked. He was back in his gnome attire, and his hoary hair shone under the morning sun. It looked soft.
She turned her eyes up to the sky and saw thick clouds in the distance. She suppressed the desire to rush him. If rain was coming, they would be caught in it one way or another. They still had a couple of days until the next town.
When he was done, they bundled up the boar’s smoked meat, and resumed their walk westward.
They followed the paved road for a while. Crumbs looked at the sides of the road intently. He looked tired, the fine wrinkles around his eyes accentuated in the daylight.
He sighed.
“So,” he started, “are ya gonna kill me in my sleep or not?”
The absentminded human turned, narrowing her eyes.
“Huh?”
He smiled lightly.
“You wish!” She paused, then added, “If I were to kill you, I’d tie you to a tree. I’d find two bears and give each five pieces of gold for the trouble of taking turns mauling you.” A sinister yet playful smile was plastered on her face.
His smile widened, before being replaced by a look of grave offence.
“Five pieces of gold?! They’ll do a shabby job of me,” he put an open hand to his chest, “would you not spend at least ten pieces of gold per beast?”
She walked closer to him until their sides brushed together with each step.
“With that much gold I could afford to get my teeth put back in, twice.” She leaned over him menacingly.
He looked at her mouth, and she snarled, showing her gapped teeth. A grin crossed his face, ear to pointy ear.
He stopped, reaching down for a rock.
“Don’t you worry. If that’s what troubles you, I’ll do it for free here and now.”
She glared at him, incredulous.
He pointed to the spot in front of him, testing his luck.
“Kneel here and open wide,” he said with a wicked grin.
She blushed, her eyes wide open.
“You, little, fucking…”
She motioned for him to keep walking or risk getting kicked, and he did, doubling over with laughter.
From behind, between gritted teeth, she cursed at him.
“Your father is a donkey and your mother is a frog. T-that’s why you’re green!”
His laughter became raucous.
She caught up to him, suppressing a chuckle as well.
“I’m not letting you anywhere near my mouth, you rat-toad hybrid. Look at what you did last time.”
She shortened the distance between them, opening her mouth to show him a scar on her bottom lip, still pink with healing.
He looked at her plush lips for a moment.
“I got one of those too. See?”
He parted his lips lightly, pointing to a scar on his upper lip with a long black nail.
She took a close look, furrowing her brow. Seeing his sharp teeth from this distance made her insides swirl.
“But I didn’t give you that.” She didn’t look away.
He pulled back a bit, playing coy.
“You get so rough with me when you’re angry. You might as well have.”
She scoffed, standing straight.
To the left, along what seemed to be the main road, a group of city guards approached in the distance. Lilie instinctively veered right.
Crumbs looked around, senses keen. His eyes scanned the treeline carefully, until they met brown pelt and black eyes among the leaves on the right path. A magnificent deer chewed on grass. It looked at him for a moment, and took off.
“Wait,” the tall goblin said, touching her hand lightly. “Let’s take the main road.”
“Why?” She cocked a brow.
“If there are guards, there won’t be bandits.”
She thought for a moment, scanning her companion.
“Are you wearing your trinket?”
He pulled his amulet from under his shirt, displaying it to the worried human.
“It’ll be okay. Just a gnome and his protection travelling to Myosotis.”
She huffed, uneasy.
They walked together, trying not to seem suspicious. The guards’ chatter died down as they approached.
The leader, an older man, spoke.
“Well met, travellers.”
“Well met, sir,” Crumbs answered in a voice Lilie would tease him about later.
The knight swallowed thickly. Had he looked anything like a goblin to the guards, they would not have greeted them so kindly.
She studied the guards, jaw still clenched tightly.
“Where are you travelling?”
“Myosotis.”
The guard grimaced, looking at the approaching storm.
“It’d be safer for you to return to Esfantes, take refuge in the temple. You won’t find shelter from the rain in this direction.”
Behind him, two other guards elbowed each other and snickered.
“Worry not, we carry waxed leather. We’ll be safe,” he said, forcing a disingenuous smile.
Lilie stared daggers at the two guards as they pantomimed a vulgar coupling, exaggerating the height between the lovers.
Crumbs’ fists tightened behind his back.
“Safe travels, then,” the old man concluded.
The goblin bowed his head lightly and they resumed walking.
When they were a safe distance away, he looked at her.
It had been a long time since he had last seen her scowl like this. She seemed genuinely upset.
“Fucking idiots,” he tsked, “they got it all wrong too. Those positions wouldn’t work at all.”
“They must have only seen a cunt in dreams,” she said, chuckling.
He snickered, not expecting the profanity. When he looked at her, her face was red.
He was about to comment on this when he felt a cold drop land on his head.
Lilie pulled up her hood.
“We need to find cover,” she said, turning to him. “It would be nice to actually carry waxed leather, though.”
She scanned the horizon with keen eyes. A bit ahead, the river had carved into the earth long enough to form low cliffs.
“There,” she said, pointing. “There could be an overhang or cave to keep us dry.”
The goblin nodded, following her.
They were wet and cold by the time they got to the small cave. It was barely big enough for both of them and a small fire, but it was dry.
She left her heavy pack by the entrance and started gathering dry wood, her teeth chattering.
Crumbs took off the goblin cape he’d put on after entering the forest and the drenched gnomish shirt. He twisted them in an attempt to wring the water off them.
Once the human had gathered enough wood, he set about starting a small fire where the rain would not reach it.
Lilie threw her bedroll on the floor and took her cape off before sitting cross-legged with a sigh.
She watched intently as the goblin snapped his fingers, kindling the wood.
When the timid flame had gained enough strength, he sat by her side and grabbed his blanket, covering his back and shoulders with it.
She reached for one of her bags and pulled out a small sewing kit.
Crumbs scooted closer to her, following the deft movements of her fingers with half-lidded eyes. She was focused on mending a small hole in her cape.
He smiled softly as memories stirred.
He watched in silence as she bent over her cloak, tongue peeking from the side of her mouth while she worked the needle through the torn wool. He paid close attention as she wrestled with the tear, her stitches long and uneven, pulling the wool into little ridges.
“You are fighting it,” he said gently. “Do not drag the thread so hard.”
She huffed but shifted, turning to him slightly.
He pointed to the rent.
“First, fold the edges inward.” He reached toward the tear to show her. “...Like so. Hide the fray inside. A cloak must keep the wind out, not invite it in.”
He took the needle and set two small bites across the gap.
“Now pass through this side, then the other, crossing them. Short stitches. Close. Like lacing a boot.” He handed it back. “Draw it snug, not tight. Let the wool meet of its own will.”
He spoke with a softness she’d never seen on him.
She tried again, slower this time.
“There,” he murmured, watching the seam lie flatter beneath her fingers.
Her pink tongue peeked out again, a sure sign of her concentration. He grinned softly.
She seemed at peace, and he would not have it.
“You’re not as clumsy as it seems. Great work!”
Her expression shifted instantly, adopting an annoyed look.
“Quiet, goblin.”
“It’s a compliment. I’m just saying you can do well when you really try.”
She turned to him menacingly.
“...instead of dropping your sword at the start of a deadly encounter.”
Her free hand shot up to his face, covering his mouth and holding him tightly by his jaw.
She could feel his grin beneath her hand.
She licked her lips.
“It is almost like you get a satisfaction out of making me mad.”
He mumbled under her hand, resisting the dangerous urge to nod frantically.
Lilie fixed her icy gaze on his, not letting go until he squirmed and looked away.
“You know, you look prettier like this.”
His eyes widened. He looked back, and she was still staring at him. It was a hungry, dangerous look that made his blood rush.
Testing his luck once more, he opened his mouth and licked at her soft palm.
“Ughhh…!” She wiped her hand on him. “Gross. Let me work, Crumbs.”
The sound of his name on her lips made his heart skip a beat.
She went back to the cape, and he watched closely. His eyes felt heavy. He rested his head on her shoulder.
She could hear his steady breathing by her side as she finished the mending.
She pulled out her old book and wrote down an explanation of the stitch he had shown her, along with a small drawing of the amulet he carried.
Sundas of the Second Week, Second Moon of Fall
We left Esfantes today, Crumbs and I.
The visions the boar gave us yesterday haunted my sleep. I suspect his as well.
I saw my brother, bloodied and cold.
We haven’t been heading west for long, yet I’m already restless.
This morning’s walk was, at least, surprisingly pleasant. It has been a long time since I laughed like that.
_______________________________________________
Hours later, the rain and wind stopped. They still had plenty of daylight ahead.
Her shoulder had gone numb at some point. She tried to shake it lightly.
“Hey.”
He stirred, pulling the blanket off him. His bare torso rose and fell in slow, sleepy breaths. Scars shimmered across his skin in the firelight, and soft black hair covered most of his body. It was thicker on his chest, around his navel, and along the golden line below.
His hand rested on his abdomen. She stared, noticing his missing pinky and wondering how long ago he had lost it.
She finally wrenched her eyes away, blushing.
“Oi.”
He opened his dark eyes slowly and stretched with a loud groan, leaning harder on her.
She flicked his ear, returning the annoyance.
“Wake up. The sun’s out.”
He looked outside, squinting.
Sunlight peeked from behind the clouds as the fire dwindled to embers.
Days into the long walk to Myosotis, a respite is needed.
TW: explicit sexual content towards the end, as well as very mild horror/gore.
Other chapters.
Loredas of the Second Week, Second Moon of Fall
We near Myosotis. We expect to reach it in two days’ time. It is now noon, and if my memory is correct, we should arrive at the Esfantes clearing within a few hours.
My skin is galled, my armour needs mending, and I could use a respite. I will try to persuade him to make camp by the lake for the day.
The Seedsgrowth festival had been held in the Esfantes clearing for centuries. Celebrating fertility and new beginnings, the lake and temple were filled with fresh flowers. People then ate, drank, danced and rutted until the flowers wilted. Now, more than half a year later, with another half to go until the next one, the small temple stood unkempt and abandoned.
The lake, however, buzzed with life.
The tired, sore goblin took a moment to appreciate the scenery.
“We could enter the temple and catch our breaths,” suggested the knight.
He hummed in approval.
Inside, the temple was humble, with long tables and benches resting against the grey stone walls, and mostly unbroken windowpanes.
The longlegs exhaled loudly as she set her pack down, groaning as she rolled her shoulders. She glanced at him, noting any signs of weariness. She longed for a warm meal and shelter from the cold wind.
He set down his heavy pack, rubbed his eyes, and stretched before stepping outside.
She trailed behind.
“There’s a small fire pit as well. We could fish and cook here, maybe even stay the night.”
He scanned the area quietly. She gave up waiting for an answer.
“I’m taking the armour off.” She went back inside.
The goblin breathed deep, appreciating the loneliness. She did not make a terrible travel companion. She pulled her weight, kept her complaints to herself, and spared him endless chatter.
He had noted how she sometimes paused to appreciate plants and creatures along the way, even collecting small flowers and fragrant herbs. She whistled familiar tunes from time to time, and didn’t snore much. It could have been much worse.
He headed for the treeline, eyes on the grass in search of fresh tracks to follow.
A male boar must’ve drunk from the lake not long ago. The thrill of the hunt stung his heart, and he skipped back to the temple.
“Come, there’s a boar nearby; bring your sword," he said as he rushed to free himself of his more delicate clothes.
At this point she knew there would be no warning when it came to the half-man’s nudity, it was up to her to divert her gaze. And she did. She fastened her belt back on and took her weapon, heading out to wait for her excited companion.
He rushed back out, clad in his thick goblin garments, the tight gnomish pants and shoes nowhere to be seen.
They sought the trail, finding the split-hoof tracks easily in the mud and grass, and following them where the trees covered the sky.
Brown, thick hairs. A broken branch. A small puddle of foamy saliva. Droplets of iridescent oil.
Crumbs froze on the spot. He slowly turned toward the blonde with fear in his eyes and a finger pressed to his lips. His yellow eyes, pupils blown wide, fixed on her. Then they heard it.
A snort, behind them.
“Don’t look it in the eyes,” he whispered. “whatever you do.”
The knight held onto her axe, trembling as she turned. The impulse to locate the creature’s eyes was hard to resist. She pivoted and saw the wild boar they had been tracking.
Its eyes. They were wrong. Not the dull brown she expected, but slick, swirling things, like oil on water. Molten nacre and rainbow sheens folding into themselves.
The wild boar grunted menacingly.
She turned her gaze upward, but her head was already spinning. She heard whispers calling to her from deep into the forest. The eyes’ afterimage clung to the inside of her skull, dripping and pulsating.
“Shit.” the goblin muttered.
He had read about these creatures, a threat or a deity depending on the author. Deadly either way. He dashed, diverting attention from his stunned companion. By the way she was heaving, she must have looked.
The boar charged with a squeal.
The goblin moved on instinct, watching only above the line of its ears. He dove aside as it thundered past, slashing shallow across its flank. The hide was thick, his dagger barely bit.
The animal turned with a shriek, foam stringing from its jaws. Its eyes shimmered bright.
He felt the pull this time. Just a flicker. Just a glance from the corner of his eye.
The mud and leaves at his feet felt impossibly sticky. The charm, dangling from his wrist, burnt and lapped at his skin.
He bit his tongue until he tasted blood.
Pain anchored him.
The human followed the creature by sound, not taking her eyes off the bright blue sky. She knew it was charging at her. Dodging or rolling with her chainmail wouldn’t work. She dropped to one knee, planting the haft of the axe hard on the ground, the blade’s toe angled at the animal’s soft throat.
Hooves tore earth. Breathe in. She braced.
“No!” the goblin yelled, reaching out to her.
At the last second, she looked straight at the beast and drove the axe upward with both hands.
Steel met flesh, and the cleaver tore through the boar’s thick neck in a hot, resisting crunch.
Even with her weapon buried to the haft in its throat, the boar’s charge did not simply stop, it broke.
Its full weight crashed into her a heartbeat later, a wall of muscle and bristle and dying momentum. The tusks screeched across the chainmail at her hip and ribs, snagging, pressing hard enough that she felt the promise of them through steel. Then the body collapsed over her legs, heavy and hot and twitching.
The small god’s eyes dripped with viscous tears. She blinked, and she saw a man where the boar lay.
She turned and vomited onto the cold forest floor. She looked at him again,and there was only the boar; her white surcote drenched in dark hot blood. She let out a groan, scrambling away from under the carcass.
The goblin dashed to her side and knelt, at a loss for words.
“Are you… Did you… Why?! You…!” His face showed a mixture of incredulity, anger and relief.
She laughed, looking down at her body, pressing at her torso through the armour, checking for broken bones.
She sucked air through her teeth. Nothing broke. Everything hurt. The blonde wiped tears, spit and bile from her face before retrieving her weapon. “A child with a knife, was it?” Pride shone where fear dissipated.
They held each other's gaze for a long moment, a duel of egos.
The trembling man took out a polished wooden flask, and began collecting the oily substance still weeping from the demifae’s eyes. He looked at the small, slow stream entering the flask; and planted a hand on the floor, tying a thin thread between reality and himself.
The creature’s blurry eye moved quickly, fixing itself on the goblin. He felt naked, as if his soul were being weighed and his memories judged. He dug his long, black nails into the dirt, focusing on how the grass and dirt felt on his fingertips.
He looked away, at the woman beside him. Her cream-coloured surcote was now dripping golden honey onto the grass beneath her. He heard her voice, clear as day, in the back of his head, almost as if it came from his own throat.
“My name is Lilie. I am a Knight. I will kill you in your sleep. I know you want to taste me.”
He looked down at the pig again, as if it would help tell reality apart from the oily tricks.
Grimwald’s dead body stared at him, wearing his familiar look of disappointment.
A guttural voice spoke: “Bring her to me. She is all we need.”
He was heaving, tears welling up in his eyes.
Then came something real. A touch. Firm hands covered his eyes from behind.
“Don’t look anymore. The oil is still falling into the flask. Use your fingers to feel when it stops dripping.”
A few hours later, the boar had been bled, gutted, and transported back to the temple. The short walk back was quiet.
They still had a generous amount of daylight, so they decided to make stew. After dressing the boar, he cleaned out an iron pot and set water to boil. While she cut, salted, and readied the best pieces for selling, he went out and gathered wild herbs and roots.
When he came back, she was done and now stood motionless, eyes fixed on the boiling water, still covered in blood.
“You should clear yerself up. I’ll finish this,” he said, sorting the wild vegetables on the small kitchen’table.
She headed out, soap and cleaning oil in hand, and walked under the warm fall sun until she found a secluded spot. Once there, she rushed to strip, dumping her clothes and armour on the soft sludge unceremoniously. She entered the water and scrubbed the blood, oil, and grime off her body.
On the other side of the lake, where she couldn’t see, the goblin undressed. He took off his stained, smelly garments, and washed them in the clear water. Once they were spread out to dry on a nearby rock, he stepped inside, and he focused on cleaning his own body.
His wet hair, slicked back, reached his shoulder blades. He traced the scar tissue in his ribs, checking for tenderness. As he rubbed his tired eyes, his mind drifted back to the encounter with the boar.
“My name is Lilie. I am a Knight. I will kill you in your sleep. I know you want to taste me.”
The words echoed in his mind, spoken in both her voice and his own.
“My name is Lilie.”
“I know you want to taste me.”
He felt heat pooling in his lower abdomen. His mind wandered to her warm hands on his face. He tested the name, saying it out loud. “Lilie.”
It came out breathier than expected, deep and raspy.
He walked out and sat atop a particularly soft patch of grass, combing his dark locks with his fingers. Lying down, he smoothed down the soft hair on his ventral line with his right hand before acknowledging his erection.
It had been a while since he had had the chance to tend to himself in comfort. He had hoped to rest once he reached the tower, but he found no respite there. After that, he became a prisoner and he’d been travelling since. He had had short moments to relieve himself, but it had barely been enough. The hunger for carnal pleasure had steadily accumulated within him.
While he avoided the line of thought, not to complicate his situation further, he found the human mesmerising, from her soft light locks, to her mean demeanour and semi-permanent scowl. He noted how her chainmail clung to her curves, how soft her lips were, how skilled her hands.
He took himself in his hand, wincing from the cold of his fingers around the warm shaft. His other arm rested behind his head and with a sharp inhale, he slowly slid his hand down and up his cock.
He brought his hand to his mouth, pooling spit on it. Once the tip had been generously covered in his drool, he picked up in rhythm and strength, stimulating his dick until it was almost too much. His member was thick, already leaking with slick precum, and he spread it using his thumb. He dragged his long nail softly across the tip, momentarily seeking the uncomfortable sensation. His panting became gasps and soft grunts as he resumed a faster pace, gripping his length tightly.
“I know you want to taste me.”
His imagination ran wild, picturing the sight of her bare form. Her chest, glistening in the sunlight. The soft curls between her legs, how he’d taste her wetness, drawing lascivious sounds from her lips. How she’d pull his face closer to her cunt, grabbing him by his hair.
He was close, eyes shut tight and back arching. He pictured her in his mind’s eye, looking down to him with half-lidded eyes and blushing cheeks, bouncing on his cock.
He came hard, suppressing the volume of his feral grunts. Thick, pearly come gushed out, spilling near his navel as he jerked and trembled. He moaned and panted, deep and frenzied, not slowing down until it became too much. His calloused hand was covered in the sticky seed as he pumped his overstimulated dick lazily.
He took a deep breath, riding the last waves of pleasure, and his heavy heart throbbed in his chest. He’d have to enter the lake once more.
The knight returned to the small temple after tending to her equipment. Dressed in her simple chemise, she hung the rest of her clothing out to dry. As she drew closer to the kitchen, a wonderful smell filled the air. Inside, stew bubbled, and the goblin filled two bowls.
They sat in silence, blowing on their spoons, not having yet spoken more than a few words since the encounter with the fae boar.
In her bowl, pieces of the pig’s heart, liver, and ribs floated among small pieces of various herbs and roots. When she was convinced it wouldn’t burn her tongue, she took a tentative bite. She did not expect the tenderness of the meat, slow-cooked for hours, nor the fragrance of the broth, savoury and well spiced.
A delighted hum escaped her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Crumbs chuckled lightly, proud of his work.
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