Adept Paws 5: The Citadel
#6 of Adept Paws
The Lord of the Windswept Kingdom finds out his Court Mage is more than she seems.
Adept Paws 5: The Citadel
by Tempe O'Kun
Updated Apr-6-10.
Ten days ago, all magic had ceased. Stopped. Ended. Evaporated.
Eleven days ago, Amethyst had vanished.
His advisers viewed the latter as nothing compared to the former, but to King Alaster Raynalt, Lord of the Citadel, it was the reverse. A kingdom could be ruled without magic, the last ten days had proved that much. Not as effectively, to be sure, but his realm was hardly falling to pieces.
His family's Citadel dominated the landscape, nearly a city unto itself. Seventy eight floors, over a thousand feet high, it had stood for a dozen generations. Its sweeping parapets hung high above the earth like the arms of a candelabra. Hundreds of people lived here, but as Alaster looked out over his balcony to the wild mountains beyond, he felt very much alone. The charms strengthening the Citadel walls had mostly faded, but his ancestors had seen fit to build it so the structure didn't collapse without them. A petty part of him felt that would have been poetic. Without the Amethyst Mage, he felt himself crumbling.
She had no other name that he had ever found, but played that title to the hilt. Her dresses, her jewelry, her eyes: all ran in dark purples and violets, though the last had tiny flecks of gray like cloud wisps in the evening sky. Her pale fur only served as a canvas for the splash of color she wore, gleaming like a gem wherever she appeared.
Others found her reticence aloof and cold, but he knew better. Older than she looked by many decades, she had traveled to places he'd considered faerret tales and touched powers he could never fathom. Why should he care what others thought of her? They still thought her a mere white wolf. He knew better; he'd seen her wearing nothing but moonlight.
* * * * *
Amethyst had been with him since his ascension to the throne. She came with recommendations from the previous Court Mage, who had served Alaster's aunt and uncle for many years. Succession always followed that pattern in the Windswept Kingdom; aunt to niece, uncle to nephew. Widened the pool of potential leaders considerably, inspiring healthy competition for the rulers' favor.
The common people didn't overly regard mages. Lions raided anything they could, dominating the lower plains and foothills-- only a network of tunnels saved the few cities he controlled, dug by badgers ages ago. Mystical sages were all well and good for kings and queens, but they didn't come swooping in to save you like a knight on hawkback. Swords and arrows kept the people safe, not magic. If this lukewarm reception bothered Amethyst, she'd never shown any sign. Stoic and patient, she'd advised him through those first difficult years, protecting him in ways the guards never could.
After shattering an assassin's blade right out of his paw, Alaster and the mage had agreed to have her quarters moved beside his own. Few questioned the wisdom of this move, practical as it was. He had expected odd smells and eerie lights emanating from her chambers in the dead of night, but she lived very plainly. A wardrobe for her clothes, a bed, and a desk for her books left the room looming and empty. He could have fit a dozen knights and their mounts in there and still had room to walk.
He visited often to seek her counsel, but her proximity eventually led him to make more social visits. Often he interrupted her meditation, but she always seemed quietly pleased to talk. At first this surprised him until he realized he could think of no one who considered her a friend. She must have been lonely. At first it was just that: loneliness. High in the towers of the Citadel, their positions meant many under them would have jumped at the chance to get under them.
Some in the court thought this inappropriate familiarity. He didn't care. Amethyst spoke to him with unapologetic frankness, never feigning approval of his ideas. In turn, when he brought a smile to those snowy cheeks, he knew he had earned it. He'd even gotten the frosty lupine to laugh a pawful of times. The musical tones of it lingered in the deepest corners of his heart. Only after that did she begin visiting him in return.
She talked to him of magic, of the places she'd been, even of her past, though that last came in hints and slivers. Later and later she stayed, at first always sitting arrow straight on his couch, but eventually lounging out across it, the supple white fur of her shoulders and legs showing as around those purple dresses. Alaster found his eyes lingering on her. She knew the names of every constellation, as well as the name of every servant in his service, as well as their children's.
"Of course I know their names. There are only forty of them."
"But how can you remember all that?"
"I want children someday, but they would interfere with my duties."
He smiled. "I didn't know mages had children."
"So we just spring into being from musty tomes?" Her muzzle stayed deadpan, but he heard the spark in her icy voice: a joke.
He laughed, voice heavy with sleep. His chair was pulled right up to the couch, just a foot away from her. "Perhaps."
"Learning their names is my way of starting down that road. I can't interact with them; I seem to frighten them away, not to mention their parents. I hope I don't do the same to my own someday."
"I'm sure you won't. You aren't such a statue as you put on."
"You think so?"
"Why would I lie to you?"
With the barest hint of a smile, she batted his arm. "To steal the secrets of my magic."
"Yes, that worked out so well last time. Burned my best tunic to a char." He could smell her scent.
"You're not the quickest study I've seen." Her paw lingered on his chest. "But you have a good heart."
His paw found hers. He leaned forward a slow inch. The lupine moved in closer. Their noses touched. They sat, breathing each other's scents as the moon shone through the windows. His paw found the curve of her neck and caressed the side of her face. Her eyes closed as she leaned into the touch. She nuzzled her muzzle along his, her white fur brushing through the brindle pattern of his own. Warmth flushed through his body, as if a fire burned within her, heating him at her mere touch. Lost in the moment, Alaster let his muzzle trace down to her shoulder then back up again to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. She gasped softly.
He shifted, pressing his lips to her ear. "Are you okay with this?"
She trailed her clawtips under his chin. "Yes."
Together, they rolled back onto the couch. Those paws he had seem so deftly weave magic now explored his fur, working just as deftly to relieve him of his clothing. Edging the top of her dress down, he kissed along her collarbone. He shrugged out of his coat, and she slipped his tunic over his head. Caressing his bare chest, her rings got tangled in his fur, so she took them off, setting them with care on the vacated chair.
Now clad only in his undergarments, he chuckled at her. "How can I be sure you didn't use your magic on me?"
For a moment, the wolf grinned enough to show her white teeth. "I didn't."
"Oh?"
She nodded. "That would take all the fun out of it."
"Magicked me out of my clothes pretty well." Finding her paw on his stomach, he caressed down her arm.
"Mmmm." Her ears flattened in pleasure. "Clothes are fair game." Her face still held the daring edge of a smile. "As fair as mages ever get."
In response, he kissed her on the lips. His fingers trailed through her head fur, stroking over her silken ears. She rolled on top of him, kissing back. Soft, fluttery pecks, heavy, vigorous smooches; before and after each, her tongue exploring his lips, inside and out. Alaster's breath picked up. He'd had a few dalliances, but never had he been kissed like this. Where did a mage learn to kiss like that?
Straddling him, she undid the ties at the back of her dress, loosening it. Her shoulders rolled back a little and she sighed at the freedom of movement this gave her. She looked down at him, blushing under her white fur, but he just wagged his tail against hers. He couldn't remember the last time he had wagged so hard, or been this hard in other ways...
Wiggling his hips under her, he placed a paw on either side of her waist and slid the dress up her body. The fine purple fabric flowed over her fur like wine over white marble. Soon the only purple she had on was the vivid violet of her eyes. The wolf ground back down against his hips; Alaster shivered at the heat against his crotch. When he opened his eyes again, her slip was off. Legs around his hips, she sat totally nude.
Everyone in his kingdom was born with a runic marks, marks that made their blood worthless for dark magic. She had none. Every line and curve of her body lay pristine white, like snow. The only color on her breast came from the pink of her nipples, from the black of her nose and lips, and from those deep purple eyes.
Sitting up against the arm of the couch, he eased her back along its length, his full sheath brushing against her thigh in the process. He whined at the sensation, then sidled out of his britches. He climbed over her body, panting a little. Her scent hung thick in the room, addling his brain more than a little. Slipping his sheath back, he gasped aloud as she rolled up to meet him, her hot fur brushing against the tender length. She shrugged, expression finally starting to melt under the heat of her blush.
Kneeling between her legs, Alaster rubbed the tip of his erection against her opening, drawing a shudder from the both of them. Her paws curled at the small of his back. Her hips rocked back and forth, working against the tip of his canine penis. Moisture from her lips coated his dribbling tip in a smooth, liquid heat. He took a moment to regain his bearings, then pressed into her.
She grasped the fur of his back as he slid past her vaginal lips, pushing deeper into her passage. Her warmth amazed him. Either his memories had faded since the last time he'd been with a woman or she blazed like a furnace compared to them. He settled further into her until his sheath met her opening. Vaginal muscles bore down, squeezing him in her eagerness. He whimpered in pleasure and began to thrust.
Soft spurts of precum squirted against her flesh, dribbling back along his length. His penis slipped along her walls, feeling every inch of his shaft getting coated in their combined fluids. He humped against her a little faster, feeling her bounce against the cushions of the couch. The tassels on the far edge of the couch swung in rhythm, mesmerizing what little of his brain had not taken its leave. A sharp breath and the accompanying squeeze were all it took to bring him back to the moment, to her. His muzzle traced along hers, bumping as he continued to thrust. Her hips began to bump back up against his, thrusting out of time and almost causing him to slip out.
Tail and ears drooping, he worked into her with renewed vigor at her signs of enjoyment. His growing knot bumped in and out of her vagina with increasing resistance; he couldn't keep this up for long. He lifted his body further, bumping her clit with his knot on every stroke in.
Alaster felt the cool touch of her nose brushing along the fur of his muzzle. Their eyes met. He saw in those violet depths the love he had always looked for, but had never found in all the courtiers, who fawned over his power always and his spirit never. She wanted him, wanted him as a person, not a position, and she displayed this want with every vigorous thrust back against him.
"Alaster... Oh. Oooh. Uuugh!" Her breathing deepened. Her hindpaws slid against the cushions as she whimpered wildly. Her passage tightened around him in grasping, shivering waves.
He slammed his knot inside one final time. His arms clutched her tight. He came.
The dog buried his face in her breasts as he spurted again and again into her. The feel of her, so tight around his knot, so perfect in his arms, overwhelmed him. Slowly, the shorts of semen tapered off. Once he could breath again, he nuzzled her face with trembling tenderness. She rubbed his muzzle back, panting.
They lay, saying nothing. After a time, she reached down and felt over her vagina, around the bulge made by his knot. Her expression turned to quizzical amusement. Perhaps she had never been with another canine? He didn't know. The woman barely spoke about where she came from, let alone detailing whom she had slept with.
He didn't know the half of it.
* * * * *
Months later, Alaster found that his Court Mage almost never slept in her own chambers. She changed there, meditated there, made sure the sheets were ruffled there so the servants didn't get ideas. He also found himself drowsy but smiling during protracted policy meetings.
Wistful thoughts entered his head. Crazy thoughts. Thoughts that made him hold her just a little closer at night.
One day in the halls, after court, he pulled her gently close, his soft pawpads brushing down her cheek. "Come to the ball with me."
Brows furrowing, she looked at him like he'd coughed up a toad. "What?"
He stepped back, cutting a courtly bow. "I'd like the honor of escorting you to the harvest festival dance."
Her arms stayed straight down, her face still as stone. "Why?"
"Because we can."
"There will be talk."
"There's always talk." He winked. "That's why they have a king. Besides, for once the talk will be true."
Her ears flattened. The barest echo of a smile crossed her lips.
He extended a paw, lifting hers to his muzzle. With a light kiss, he straightened to go. "See you tonight."
* * * * *
They danced. The whole court looked on and whispered, the lead fiddler even struck a sour note, his first in years, but Alaster didn't care. She felt so natural in his arms, twirling and prancing as if she were an extension of his being. His heart raced; he stumbled; he tucked tail as he caught her eyes. And it all felt so right.
She was a vision. Her dress was ensorceled somehow, shimmering like spring rain off leaves.
After the ball ended, he lead her through the swirls of rumor, out to the garden balcony. There, alone among the potted trees and ancient sculptures, with only the moon as their witness, he took her paws and dropped to his knees. "I've been think about this lately and would you--"
Her eyes widened. "Alaster... no."
He winced before her. "I haven't asked anything yet!"
"Don't!" She pulled him to his feet. "Think about your family line."
"Believe me, I am. I don't think violet eyes would diminish it."
"Alley, you don't understand. I can't have your pups."
"I thought you wanted children someday?"
"I do! I just can't have them with you."
"Oh. I see..."
"No, no! I love you like nothing in the earth and heavens!" She looked around almost paranoid. "I can't... receive you properly."
"You seem to do that just fine."
She gasped at his forwardness. "Alaster!"
"What's to stop you from getting pregnant?"
Amethyst glanced out across the darkened garden balcony. Her paws gripped the rail as she looked out on the city below. As her lover slipped close behind her, she closed her eyes and whispered through her fangs: "I'm not really a wolf."
The royal shepherd's ears went up, words breaking on his tongue. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and forcing a laugh like he would in court, then shook his head. "I should have suspected some magish tomfoolery... What are you? A tiger? A squirrel? A rat?"
"What? No!"
He squeezed her paws. "You couldn't be anything that would make me change my mind."
Arms crossing, she glowered at him. "Oh?"
Emphatic, he nodded. "Really. Try me."
She did.
He fainted.
* * * * *
Alaster woke in his chambers, shaking the vision of looming forms in the moonlight from his brain. How had he gotten back here? The last thing he remembered, he was standing in the garden balcony with--
"Amethyst?" He sat up, then gripped the edge of his bed, steadying himself against the encroaching blur and blackness on his vision.
"I'm here." Her paw settled on his arm. Candles lit the room, her face cast half white, half shadow, violet eyes glinting from both. Once again, she was the beautiful wolf who melted his heart.
He reached for her, but she drew back, averting her eyes. Once again, her expression was stone. Her hushed voice carried an uncharacteristic waver. "Do you see now why I could never--"
"Change again."
She turned back toward him, her eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"
"That's your true form, right?"
"Yes."
"And you love me for what I really am, right?"
An almost imperceptible softening slipped across her white muzzle. "Of course."
"Then it's only fair."
She opened her mouth to reply, pointing at his chest as she always did when lecturing him... then rescinded both actions.
"Can't argue with that one, eh mage?" He chuckled, though his nerves tingled and sang of tension. His paws curled around hers, lifting them up. "Come on. Really, how many times could I faint from it?"
Offense flickered across her face.
Before she could speak, he kissed her raised paws, drooping his ears. "Please?"
She gave a slow, deep sigh. "Very well." Getting to her feet, she slipped out of her robe. The purple material pooled around her hind paws like a liquid sunset. Standing only in her pristine white fur, she gleamed in the candlelight like a marble statue. Now that he knew it was an illusion, he decided it did look a bit too perfect.
Her delicate fingers steepled, her eyes closing in mediation. He sat, silent. And he waited. Just as he started to wonder if she'd reconsidered, she moved again. One paw curled sinuously out, fingers gesturing like a silk-dancer. Then her hand... changed. Little wisps of smoke curled off it, white as her fur. They lifted slowly, never dissipating, just unraveling from somewhere along the bottom of her arm. The effect spread over her body, faint tendrils curling off her body to vanish in the dark of the room. Off her body, waves shimmered, like those of a snow mirage or a winter campfire. Still she stood, the magic uncoiling from her body.
Alaster wanted there to be some hiss, some crackle of power to confirm this all wasn't just his imagination, but his ears caught only the sounds of breathing, his own and hers. His eyes strained in the dim light; he swore her snowy fur had a diffuse violet glow, as through she glowed from within like a paper festival lantern.
Her eyes opened. Those eyes whose cabochon depths he wondered at in those close moments after their love-making, whose exotic colors glimmered in the back of his mind like stars when he felt her absence. He felt himself wag against the bed. Her lips quirked at his loss of regal composure.
Then she stepped forward. A thousand threads of magic splashed off her like a cascade of snow off a windblown tree. The dainty hind paw that had risen from the floor touched it again as a powerful claw.
"My eyes, Alaster. Watch my eyes."
He looked up, finding comfort in those same deep purple depths. He heard another claw touch the floor and a plume of white thread rose past the corner of his vision. Resisting the urge to look, he leaned forward until his nose bumped hers.
Warm. Her nose was warm. It should be cold, and wet too. Again he almost looked down. He caught one of her eyebrows rising and laughed nervously instead. "Sorry. A king should never watch a lady changing."
She chuckled. Her hot breath coursed over his cheek ruffs on either side.
He squirmed.
Amethyst nodded just a tad bit, nuzzling against his nose pad. "There. It is complete."
For a moment, he kept staring into her eyes. After so many seconds of not being allowed to look elsewhere, a certain inertia kept him looking into them. Besides, they were pretty.
Her eyes narrowed in a dare. She swished her tail, casting off the last of the smokey tendrils. The motion ensnared him. Then he saw it: not the fluffy tail of a wolf, but one sleek and winding. It rose up and coiled softly over his forearm. Out of slow reflex, he touched it. Smooth scales and naked heat, not a trace of fur.
He followed the tail up her body, the scales forming a sort of ridge along her back. It twisted and eased back and forth as she shifted to afford him a better view. His touch found it smooth and warm, not jagged like he would have expected from drawings.
Freed of its colorless guise, her body played out like a symphony of blues and teals and purples. Patterns complex and subtle swirled out along her wings, making them glimmer like auroras in the dark. Powerful back claws steadied her on the floor while her front claws stayed raised, digits once again steepled, but now before plates of sky blue armor instead of white chest fur.
A dragon.
Amethyst was a dragon.
Alaster rose on unsteady legs. He reached out a paw to touch the side of her face, then pulled back.
A glint of amusement lit her expression. "You should know by now whether or not I bite."
Emboldened, he cradled his paw against her cheek. As she leaned softly into his gesture, his other paw explored the curves of her strange new body. Her true body, he kept reminding himself.
The purple-eyed dragon regarded him coolly, watching his paws slide over her body. "Well?"
His dry mouth stammered for words. "Y-you're beautiful."
"Thank you." She shifted, scales shimmering. "People have been known to faint at the sight of me."
His tail swayed, nearing a wag, but still weighed down with nerves. He placed a paw on her shoulder, feeling the ropey muscles beneath. "Stay like this tonight."
A toothy smile. "You're ordering me?"
He grinned back, giddy at the surreality. "Royal decree."
She gave him a wry look, then climbed with care into his creaking bed. As they both adjusted to her new form among the silken sheets, Alaster wondered just how he was going to explain why he needed a more structurally sound bed.
That's chapter 5. :) Don't worry, we'll be getting back to Rea and the others soon.
Editing by SillyNeko345.
Let me know what you think! :D
-Tempo