The sun gradually descended toward the western horizon, its golden light slowly giving way to the softer silver glow of the rising moon as Nathan remained outside in his secluded ditation spot, entirely focused on managing the curses within him and refining his mastery over Dark Magic.
As always happened when he entered these deep ditative states, hours slipped past almost unnoticed. Ti beca fluid and irrelevant when his consciousness turned inward to wrestle with the malevolent forces constantly churning in his core. What felt like minutes stretched into entire portions of the day, the external world fading into insignificance while he battled internal demons .
When Nathan finally erged from his trance-like concentration, the sky had transford completely—daylight replaced by the deep purples and blues of approaching night, stars beginning to erge as darkness claid dominion .
He stood slowly from his perch atop the massive tree where he’d been sitting cross-legged for hours, his muscles protesting slightly from prolonged stillness . Without hesitation, Nathan simply stepped off the high branch and dropped, falling smoothly through the air before landing with cat-like grace on the forest floor below.
There was a pristine pond located nearby, its surface reflecting moonlight like polished silver. Nathan moved toward it with purpose, quickly stripping away his sweat-soaked clothing and wading into the cool water. The temperature was refreshing against his overheated skin, washing away the physical evidence of his intense ntal exertion.
He cleaned himself efficiently, scrubbing away sweat and gri before erging from the pond and retrieving his clothes. Once dressed again, Nathan allowed himself a smile as his gaze fell upon the magnificent creature sleeping peacefully several dozen yards away.
Drakkias .
The golden dragon had grown even larger since Nathan had first bonded with him, his body now truly massive—easily the size of a substantial building when fully stretched out . His golden scales glead even in the dim moonlight, each one perfectly ford and overlapping with its neighbors to create armor that was simultaneously beautiful and functionally impenetrable.
This secluded forest clearing served as Drakkias’s resting place and ho, located a comfortable distance from Tenebria’s capital but close enough for rapid response if needed. Nathan had personally cleared this area to make it suitable for a dragon’s residence, removing problematic vegetation and ensuring adequate space for such an enormous creature.
Since establishing this territory, Drakkias had been living here contentedly. When hunger struck, the dragon could fly wherever he wished to hunt—his range extending across hundreds of miles if necessary—and after feeding, he would invariably return here to sleep away most of his ti. Dragons were remarkably low-maintenance companions once their basic needs were t.
Nathan didn’t disturb Drakkias’s peaceful slumber, instead launching himself directly into the air and flying back toward Tenebria’s capital. The flight took only minutes at the speed he could now achieve, the landscape blurring beneath him as he covered miles with ease.
Crossing over the city’s outer walls and traversing the urban expanse, Nathan descended smoothly toward the royal castle that dominated the capital’s highest point . Rather than using conventional entrances that would attract attention and require interaction with multiple guards and servants, he simply flew directly to one of the upper-floor windows he knew would be open and slipped inside.
Darkness had fully settled over the castle by now, the hour late enough that most residents had retired to their private quarters. The corridors were largely empty except for guards stationed at strategic positions throughout the massive structure.
Those guards who spotted Nathan moving through the halls imdiately straightened and offered respectful greetings, heads bowing in acknowledgnt of his status as Lord Commander. Nathan returned their gestures with brief nods, not pausing for conversation as he navigated the familiar passages toward the royal quarters.
He reached Azariah’s room within minutes and entered without knocking—his presence in the Queen’s private chambers was common enough that formalities had long since been abandoned between them.
The scene that greeted him was one of dostic tranquility. Azariah sat in an elegant chair positioned beside the small ornate bed where their son Azarel lay sleeping, her posture relaxed but attentive as she watched over their child with obvious maternal devotion .
When she noticed Nathan entering, her face lit up with a warm smile of welco.
Nathan approached silently, his footsteps making no sound on the plush carpet as he moved to stand beside Azariah and look down at their sleeping son. Azarel looked utterly peaceful, his tiny chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of deep infant sleep, small hands curled into loose fists near his face.
"He just fell asleep not long ago," Azariah murmured quietly, her voice barely above a whisper to avoid disturbing the baby. "It took so effort to settle him tonight—he was fussy earlier ."
"He seems to sleep a lot for soone who was supposedly difficult to settle," Nathan observed with mild amusent .
"He’s a baby, Nathan," Azariah chuckled softly, shaking her head at his comnt . "Sleeping excessively is literally what infants do. They grow while they sleep, developing at remarkable rates."
A comfortable silence settled between them as both parents simply stood there appreciating their son’s peaceful slumber, finding contentnt in the simple act of watching him breathe.
After several minutes, Azariah broke the peaceful silence, her tone shifting to address a different matter entirely.
"She’s ready," Azariah said simply .
Obviously she was referring to her younger sister, Ariah. The statent’s aning was clear—Ariah was finally ready to be taken by Nathan, to consummate the relationship that had been building between them for so ti now.
"I’m ready as well," Nathan replied calmly, "but first, go check on her directly and make certain she’s truly comfortable with this."
Azariah nodded her agreent, standing gracefully from her chair and moving toward the door. She departed the room silently, heading down the corridor toward where Ariah’s chambers were located.
Nathan anwhile remained behind, continuing to watch Azarel breathing slowly and innocently, completely unaware of the adult complexities being discussed re feet from where he slept. Nathan smiled slightly, reaching out carefully to let his large finger brush against Azarel’s tiny hand, marveling at how impossibly small and delicate his son still was.
Several minutes passed before Azariah returned, slipping back into the room with a sowhat complicated expression on her beautiful features.
"She’s fine and genuinely ready," Azariah reported, though her tone carried notes of mild frustration. "A bit nervous, which is entirely natural given the circumstances, but definitely ready and wanting this."
She sighed then, crossing her arms beneath her chest in a gesture Nathan recognized as indicating so level of annoyance.
"What’s wrong?" Nathan asked, picking up on her mood imdiately .
"I offered to stay with her, to be there for support during her first ti," Azariah explained, her frustration becoming clearer. "But she refused completely. Wouldn’t even consider letting remain in the room."
Nathan looked at her with an expression sowhere between amusent and exasperation, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course she refused, Azariah."
The logic was obvious when considered from Ariah’s perspectiv . She practically begged Nathan to be the one to take her virginity, had arranged this entire situation, so obviously tonight Ariah would want to be completely alone with Nathan to make that precious, intimate first experience sothing private and special between just the two of them.
"I simply wanted to be there to support her emotionally," Azariah said, her tone carrying defensive notes as she tried to justify her desire to be present. "Her first ti is significant, and having family there for comfort seed appropriate."
"You didn’t need anyone keeping you company or providing support during your own first ti, Azariah," Nathan pointed out gently, standing up from where he’d been crouched beside Azarel’s bed. "You handled that experience perfectly well alone with ."
Azariah’s pale cheeks colored pink at the mory. "I know that, but..." she trailed off, struggling to articulate why this felt different.
"Ariah is the sa age you were back then," Nathan reminded her patiently. "She’s an adult capable of making her own decisions about what she wants and needs. You have to respect that autonomy."
"She’s still my little sister," Azariah protested, her protective instincts clearly warring with rational understanding . "I’m just worried that..." She sighed heavily, unable to complete the thought.
"Are you actually scared that I’m going to sohow break her?" Nathan asked with teasing in his voice, one eyebrow raised in challenge .
"I know you won’t hurt her... right?" Azariah gave him a suspicious, pointed gaze that demanded reassurance.
"Well, let’s hope she isn’t quite as wild and demanding as her older sister was," Nathan said, making Azariah’s blush deepen considerably .
She punched his chest lightly in mock offense, though she couldn’t suppress the smile that curved her lips at the mory of her own enthusiastic first experience.
"Just be good to her," Azariah said more seriously, her expression softening into genuine concern. "She’s been through so much trauma and difficulty in her life. This should be sothing beautiful for her, not just physical."
"I will treat her with all the care and tenderness she deserves," Nathan promised sincerely, leaning down to kiss Azariah’s lips gently . "I understand how important this is."
When they separated, he added with a slight smirk, "Now you should sleep and bring Azarel into your bedroom. He might wake up from the sounds his aunt will likely be making."
Azariah rolled her eyes dramatically and pushed Nathan toward the door with both hands. "Just go already," she said, though affection colored her exasperated tone.
Nathan smiled before departing the room and heading down the corridor toward Ariah’s chambers
.
The distance wasn’t far—just down the sa hallway, close enough that the royal siblings could easily visit each other but far enough to provide privacy.
Once in front of Ariah’s door, Nathan slowed.
The corridor outside was dim and quiet, the palace asleep in that peculiar way royal halls always were—never truly empty, only hushed, as if even the stone understood discretion. He placed his hand on the handle and opened it.
Warm light spilled out imdiately.
Candles. Dozens of them, their flas trembling softly, painting the room in gold and honey. The air carried a faint floral perfu, sweet and nervous, the kind of scent chosen with intention rather than habit.
Ariah had prepared.
Nathan stepped inside and closed the door behind him, the click of it shutting sounding far louder than it should have. The world outside vanished.
He moved deeper into the room, boots muted against the rugs, until his gaze found the bedroom beyond.
He entered, pushed the inner door shut as well, and turned.
Ariah was sitting on the bed.
She looked... striking.
Not simply beautiful—Ariah was always beautiful—but tonight there was sothing almost ceremonial about her. The thin white gown she wore clung lightly to her form, delicate as mist, innocent in color yet chosen to be seen through candlelight. Her long blond hair spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, parted slightly by the elegant curve of her black horns, giving her an otherworldly grace.
Her red eyes fixed on him imdiately.
Expectant.
Nervous.
Hungry.
Her hands rested in her lap, fingers twisting once before she forced them still, trying to appear composed even as her breathing betrayed her.
Nathan approached without hurry, his presence filling the room the way heat fills a closed space.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
His voice was low, calm, not teasing—simply certain.
Ariah watched him as he removed his coat and let it fall to the floor, the gesture casual, almost indifferent, as if he had already decided how the night would unfold.
She drew in a slow breath.
So part of her had imagined words, perhaps. Reassurance. Tender speeches. The kind of careful conversation people pretended mattered before surrender.
But Nathan wasn’t like that with her.
And Ariah wasn’t the kind of woman who needed to be convinced with language.
She wanted action.
She wanted to be claid by choice, not by hesitation.
The lack of drawn-out talk sent a thrill through her chest, sharp as lightning beneath skin.
She lifted her chin.
"I am," she said, voice softer than she intended, but honest.
Nathan’s mouth curved, a faint smile that carried approval.
"Then let’s start," he murmured, stepping closer.
His hands moved to his waistband, unhurried, purposeful, lowering it just enough to make her breath catch again.
"With your favorite part."
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