Author's note: While it isn't strictly necessary to read The Taking of Talora to follow the events in this story, I would still recommend it for some background.
As always, please note the tags, and steer clear if any make you uncomfortable.
Talaine sat at the vanity table in her room regarding the envelope before her. The wax seal bore no insignia, and the only writing on the envelope was the letter 'T', but still Talaine recognized the long, slanting penmanship of her old friend, Priscilla. Besides, who else would have sent her a covert missive? She had few correspondents, and only one had been tasked with supplying secret information. Her heart sped up, wondering what Priscilla would have made of her message. Perhaps she had forgotten Devar, had perhaps purged herself of his remembrance in a way Talaine imagined she herself never would.
It had been three years to the day since Talaine last saw her brother. She could not forget the date; it had been his eighteenth birthday, after all, and the keep had been bustling with preparations for the feast they would hold in Devar's honour. Her father, Lord Rusten, had been in high spirits despite his failing health, for finally he had seen his heir grown to manhood, and could rest easy in the knowledge that his people would be well governed should the worst come to pass.
They had been in the dining hall, the family seated at the high table on the dais with their honoured guests, while others of the household and visitors of lesser rank filled the benches and tables below, their voices raised in a jumble of laughter and spirited talk. They had brought up the finest wine casks from the cellar, with no hint of the watered-down ale that usually graced their tables, and Talaine, then sixteen, had been made silly with over-indulgence. She giggled at something Priscilla said, for her brother's betrothed had been equally intoxicated, a new experience for the both of them, and everything had been so very funny on that bright afternoon, when it seemed wonderful to be young, and alive, and a fine lady.
Presently Talaine picked up the envelope, considering its heft, her fingers tracing the wax seal. Was there something inside? Almost it seemed that, as long as the message remained unopened, hope would prevail, and she need not face the crushing disappointment she had known time and time again in her search for her brother.
Her mind picked up the memory, willing her to watch the events unfold once more, and in instant she was back there in the dining hall next to Priscilla, laughing while Devar watched with mock disapproval from his place near their father. It had been time for the toasts, then, and Talaine had often wondered, in the years since, whether the monster had been watching them all along, and had chosen that exact moment to make his entrance all the more dramatic.
As it was, Lord Rusten had risen to his feet, Talaine's mother, Talora, beaming up at him as she handed him a goblet for the toast.
Silence had fallen in the hall, all eyes fixed on Lord Rusten and his family on the dais. Months of illness had stolen the flesh from his frame, but he was still every inch the lord where he stood at the head of the table, broad shoulders bedecked in a rich mantle of cobalt blue, one large, pale hand curled around the fine goblet his wife handed him.
'I bid you welcome, one and all,' he had said, and his voice carried easily in that large space. Cheers of 'hear hear' met his words, for the lord and his family were well loved. Rusten waited for the noise to settle, his eyes fixed with warmth and pride on his eldest child, the young man who so greatly resembled him in spirit, if not in appearance.
The hubbub had only just died down when it suddenly roared to life once more, and for a moment Talaine had not heard the horror therein, so that she joined her voice to the others with an enthusiastic cheer of her own. But the exclamations of alarm and disbelief grew and drew her gaze to the far end of the hall, where stood a nightmarish thing.
She knew it for it what it was, even before the word 'troll' met her ears. Taller than most men, the creature was clad in a robe of shimmering silver, with hair of green and black tumbling in loose, dirty tangles across his shoulders. Above a long, jutting nose, eyes of glowing blue regarded the assembly.
'My thanks for your warm reception,' said the troll, with shocking clarity for so base a creature. The only response to his arrival, surely, should have been an armed charge as every capable person sprang to slay it, yet no one moved. In another instant Talaine understood why, for she found she could not set down the wine she had been holding, could not turn her face to look at her father, could do nothing but watch as the creature came closer with long, slow strides, his gaze seemingly fixed on Talora, the lady of the house.
'Ah Talora,' he breathed from where he now stood at the opposite end of the table. Talaine heard her mother's indrawn breath, but could not turn to look at her. She watched as the troll moved to her brother's side, her brother who sat frozen in the hold of the creature's power, unable to even look up at the horrible thing hovering next to him. The troll continued, his eyes still fixed on Talora, his words slow and almost soothing in their cadence, 'You are lovely as the day I had you. Do you remember? Has the memory of our coupling found you in your dreams, where my magic could not erase the recollection? You were splayed so deliciously on that altar when I filled you.' His strange, wide mouth stretched into a grin, showing long, sharp teeth.
Despite her revulsion, Talaine felt a strange thrill rush through her at the creature's words. What he was implying was unthinkable.
'How innocent you were, at first, how reluctant to part with your maidenhead. I did not even tell you my name. I am Neere, a king of the Atheer. Neere, who took Talora.' He chuckled softly, a sound that stirred all the fine hairs at the nape of Talaine's neck. 'Oh but how quickly your body begged for mine, how hungrily you drew the length of me into your depths that second time. I grow hard at the thought. Would that I could spill myself in you again after all these years, perhaps here, in front of your peers, in front of your husband.' He sighed. 'Alas, I have not the time, this day.'
His attention had been focused solely on Talora, but now swept along the length of the table. Abruptly his blue eyes fell upon Talaine, and widened, and his grin grew.
'So there is a new daughter of the house,' he murmured. He searched her gaze, then looked leisurely at the rest of her face, her neck, her breasts, lingering there as though he could see through the tight bodice and chemise.