REMINDER- I write long stories; some parts don't have naughty bits, but the parts that do will make more sense if you read the non-naughty bits, too. Thanks for reading!
--o----O----o--
"Don't you want breakfast?" Troitsa asked as her friend hurried by the hearth.
"It's fine--" Argus waved a hand in her direction without looking up. "--I'll eat later."
The door slammed behind him and Troi sighed, leaning on her elbows as she stared into the cooling orange coals.
He was angry with her; she could tell. He'd hardly spoken to her or looked at her since five nights past, when she'd... what? What had she done to elicit such scorn? Been
ruined
by his brother?
Nivid had been spending his lust on her body for weeks while she was face-down over that bench. What was so different about what they were doing now? What was so awful about Troi and Nivid making love face-to-face that her friend should now disdain her company as an intolerable trial?
And how did he even know?
It wasn't as though the changes between them would be visible to others, and Troi couldn't envision Nivid gossiping with Argus like a fishwife at the market. 'Sakes, he barely spoke to her.
She flushed and took a long gulp of cool water. Well, until five days ago, he'd said very little, limiting his communication to a murmured word here or there: "sweet" after licking her pussy, "good" when she came over and over again, and her name, slurred, "Trishta" before he left her at dawn. She set her mug down and smiled.
After she tricked him into the light, though, Nivid had been nigh-on chatty. Speaking clearly was a laborious task for him: he omitted words to make communication easier on himself, but that thick tongue gave him a long, sibilant "s," and there were a few letters he couldn't say at all. But none of his speech difficulties made what Nivid said to her less moving.
It was still mostly sexual, but he met her eyes when he spoke, as though gauging her reaction, and Troi found this new habit incredibly touching. Last night she'd been sitting on his belly, leaning back against the furry haunches while he slouched on the sofa, caressing her tingling breasts between one session and the next. "Pretty," he'd growled, his rough thumbs sweeping over her nipples. She'd nearly come.
Just before she fell asleep, Nivid had taken a generous taste of air from the inner curve of her neck. He exhaled on a soft hum, his eyes still shut. When he opened them, he murmured blissfully, "Like spring after winter," and her heart had melted.
Coming back to the present, Troi frowned.
What was wrong with any of that? What did Argus have to be so incensed about?
Troi slammed her mug down and marched from the kitchen, following the faint path Argus had taken past the demonic, leering scarecrow in the garden.
--o--
She found him at a dry pool by the edge of the precipice, where Talgut told her a spring sometimes rose bubbling from the rock if the weather was wet enough. Russians called it "living water," that which came from the earth clean and untouched, possessing magical properties a priest or priestess-- or a witch-- could use to alter destiny. Troitsa wasn't Russian, but her people prayed to a water-god, and her mother had been a shaman, so the spring's sporadic existence held some interest for her.
Argus heard her coming, but offered no greeting.
Troitsa clambered onto the giant slab of rock from the back so she wouldn't have to shuffle by the daunting drop beyond his dangling feet. She sat to one side and behind him for the same reason. Now that she'd found him, she felt awkward rather than resentful, and she didn't speak.
She missed him. She'd thought to be with Nivid more often after being freed from their former constraints, but she'd learned he was largely nocturnal. Many of his waking hours were already spent with her, and those that weren't were occupied by hunting or otherwise prowling the woods. Troi had become accustomed to passing a large portion of each day with Argus, and she didn't realize how much she depended on his friendship until he withdrew it.
They sat there for a bit, Troi not speaking and Argus not turning around.
Argus knew he'd been acting like a lout, but he had no excuse to offer. Not one he could share with Troitsa, because he was already far too dependent on her presence in his life. They all were, and it was just getting worse as time went on. Sooner or later, Troi would leave, and if she stayed here very much longer, her departure would kill him, kill Nivid or kill both of them at once, which was more likely. Logically, he doubted one could survive without the other, despite their separate bodies.
She was enjoying herself now, but before coming to Zamok Denova, Troi had been a slave in a harsh household. After being beaten and raped for five years, almost anything would feel like freedom, even being held captive in a dilapidated castle. She'd found neither friends nor pleasure in her former life, whereas here, Troi had Argus and Talgut for companionship and affection and laughter, and Nivid for all the hedonistic delights the fates had previously denied her.
Of
course
she was happy.
But Argus wasn't a fool, nor was Troi. At the moment, his home was sufficient for her, but eventually, its shine would dim, and Troi would need more. She was young. With the gift of a fortune, she could remake herself, find a kind husband, and settle down to having a handful of beautiful babies and a wonderful home, which was exactly what Troi deserved. Argus wouldn't begrudge her one second of it. Even if he believed it possible, he wouldn't wish for her to stay, because keeping her caged in this limited life of theirs wouldn't be fair to her.
On the other hand, he wasn't going to lie to himself about it, either. He wanted her.
After stealing away from the guardroom bench to wait for Nivid by the fire, Troi had been leaving him and Talgut soon after their evening meal, instead of lounging about reading and sewing. She was sharing her warm, welcoming body with Nivid every night, but since his first taste of her, Argus had been in hell. Nivid and Argus could block each other out temporarily-- closing the door from either end-- but they shared the same mind and retained most of the same memories. Every day, after Nivid fed on Troitsa, Argus woke with her scent in his nostrils.
Coping with the endless lust would have been simpler were it alone in his psyche, but it shared its frosty bed with his heart. He, Argus Denova, was in love with their resilient, sage, and adventurous captive, Troitsa, who had no surname of her own, and all he wanted in the world was to give her his.
But he could not. They could not.
Argus Denova wasn't truly even a person now, no more than Nivid was.
They couldn't keep Troi here for much longer. He hadn't mentioned it to Nivid, because he knew what that reaction would be, but she'd have to leave soon. They were already-- all of them-- too attached to her, and breaking those bonds would only become more difficult and more painful. If they did it soon, maybe he and Nivid would eventually recover. Maybe.
When Talgut returned... well, the two of them would have to devise a way to convince Nivid to lock up the wolves, then drink a large glass of liquid without paying too much attention to its taste. Argus shook his head, not quite laughing at himself.
How the hell were they going to make it through this?
Nivid tearing his heart out, killing both of them instantly, might just be the best outcome Argus could anticipate.
"Argus," Troi finally asked, "why are you angry with me?"
He sighed heavily, not turning around. This was exactly the conversation he'd been avoiding. There was no chance of her becoming impatient and stomping off, however. The woman was as stubborn as a sunset. He sighed again. He'd have to tell her something.
"I'm not angry. I'm worried about what will happen to Nivid when you leave."
