Included kinks:
Futa, fantasy, action, worldbuilding focus, lore, romance, public nudity, size praise, female muscle, masturbation, hourglass figure, bbw, rapid growth, hourglass expansion, cock growth, excessive ejaculation, size worship, hyper sizes, part 2/2 of the Heist on Yarathrond
All characters are entirely fictional and all above the age of 18!
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Delight and agony were both closer than ever, yet never further apart.
At the other end of the fortress, hidden in the shadow of the southern wall one particular orc lingered in not so silent misery.
"Sure thing, Fel. You do not mind getting in on some action, right, Fel? No, why would you?" she spat and kept polishing her axe.
Her weapon shined as bright as the moon when it should be wearing red by now. Pathetic.
There was simply nothing left to do, nothing for her to take her mind away from all the fun she missed out on. Not even her attempt to pleasure herself brought her any joy. This must have been the first time in her life she didn't finish the job once she started fapping, Fel was convinced. And not for a lack of energy.
By the spirits, she burst with vigour and never felt so ready to let her rage take over. Her muscles were restless, twitching like she was in the middle of a glorious raid, charging at the elves head on. Her fingers cracked clutching her axe ever tighter. She could almost smell the taste of battle. The thrill of it, the fire that burned in every orc. By the spirits, she could almost literally feel that heat!
And she just sat on her ass... waiting.
Fel laid her axe aside for good and tried to focus, despite the wardrum thumping in her chest. Her big eyes crawled towards the forest. The trees might be too far away, but the spirits surely listened anyway, she thought. Everything was different in the north, including the ways by which the spirits showed their power. They listened to Fel in the water when they made her grow, so why wouldn't they listen to her in the air? Couldn't hurt to try.
The orc looked up at too many stars to count, awaiting her words as she extended her huge arms for her prayer. Hoping she wasn't making a total fool out of herself.
"Oh spirits, it's your girl, again. Fel," she whispered softly in her native tongue. "I know what you're thinking and how bad this looks, but just... let me explain, okay?"
---
The blue light guided their steps. The curls of dust dancing through the air grew thicker the stronger it arose. Soon the wooden beams and inner side of roof tiles glistened with what looked beer foam. The blue light shone so bright the entire attic lightened up like it burst into flames. And then they reached a window which seemed to pour all that eery light in.
Syn walked up to it and smiled before calling Lyanne to her.
"Now that is a sight deserving of your awe," she said.
"Is that the grove?" Lyanne asked, almost hesitant to take a look. "I didn't think we'D get to see it."
"It was always part of the tour, Lyanne," the half-elf said and stepped aside.
The islander's heart was thumping in excitement, knowing she'd get to feast her eyes on ancient beauty only a handful of humans in history ever got to see.
"It's ... beautiful. So beautiful."
A creak, no more than a person wide, snaked through a tiled canal so bright one would mistake it for molten lava. Specks of light sparkled within it, almost like diamonds were littered throughout the slowly trickling water. Life was sprawling wherever it reached. Roots of enormous proportion were shooting from every direction around the water, growing into trunks of such epic proportions they put even the mightiest buildings in Yarathrond to shame.
All those trees growing separately came together to form one mighty crown that throned over all the buildings below it or scattered all over the wooden titan, rivalling the citadel's epic walls and library in height. For all the marvellous buildings Lyanne had drooled over tonight, they all faded in splendour when compared to something so... magical.
"A true wonder of the old age, isn't it?" Syn said softly.
"Absolutely. Do all elvish cities have a grove like that?" Lyanne asked.
"They used to. Almost all the elvish cities still sanding today were built for the sole reason of protecting them," Syn said. "Still, only few survived and those who did, are mere shadows of what they once were."
Lyanne kept staring into the inner courtyard from behind the safety of their window. A few feet lower and it wouldn't have reached beyond the citadel's imposing walls. No matter if by accident or design, Lyanne wished she'd got to thank whoever placed it here and brought her this sight.
She keenly watched elves gathered around the stream of Asterea, either guarding or siphoning the water by hand or the many machines assuring not a single drop would go to waste.
"Do they care for it all day and night?" the human asked."
"They ought to. This is the lifeblood of their civilization, Lyanne." Syn said and leaned in. "The old magic granted them their longevity, lead them to refine their wisdom and forge the strongest empire the world has ever seen. As long as just a drop of Asterea flows, Yarathrond still has a future. If not... well ..."
"But they can save it, right?"
Lyanne dreaded the answer the moment the question left her lips.
"Not forever. Yet, one thing is certain - they'll fight tooth and nail for every year, every hour. This is the elves' curse by their own doing. Holding on to the past, just to see it inevitably slip away between their clutched fingers like sand."
Syn turned to her comrade, a sadness in her big eyes as she lingered on that thought this time.
"One day Yarathrond will crumble into ruin and be forgotten, like all the cities that came before her. This is her fate," she said. "Not that her inhabitants would be missed. But the world would be poorer for having lost such a place of magic and of learning."
"Can't they ... just adapt? Like the orcs did? Even in the desert," Lyanne urged on, desperate for any solution.
"Not a people this stubborn and trapped in their ways," Syn grinned and turned away from the window. "That is why they will vanish one day. And I wonder if the world will be a better place without them."
Lyanne didn't know what to answer.
"But that is a question too grand for any of us," she said and led the way deeper into the attic. "Let's bask in the glory of their accomplishments while they're still there, shall we?"
"Aye," the knight said and after one last look over a scene forever etched into her memory turned away as well.
Lyanne couldn't imagine this night to be any more miraculous.
Not when they traded the grove's fading blue shimmer fizzling away behind their back for candles breaking through the old wooden planks they walked upon. Not even when they were replaced with stone tiles guiding them to the last door that stood between them and the library.
And then it opened and proved Lyanne wrong once again.
"Behold. The collected knowledge of the elves," Syn said and with obvious pride gestured at the greatest collection any human had ever seen.
Bookshelves stretched as far as Lyanne's eyes could reach. More books than she thought existed in the world. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions even. Gathered in a dome so wide and high, no lord's grand hall would even make up a fifth.
"Protectors of knowledge ... indeed," Lyanne gasped.
"For all their shortcomings, this is the contribution they actually deserve to be remembered for," Syn said, leading them down the top of the great staircase. "The world owes them great thanks for protecting the past. Like only they could."
"How many books do you think are here?" Lyanne asked curiously.
"I doubt even my father knows the exact number," Syn laughed and walked with Lyanne towards the great altar which seemed to be the centre piece of the entire library. "But enough. Enough to remember where we all came from."
"How many did you read?" the knight asked, making Syn look over her shoulder and smirk.
"For years I snuck into the library. Every night and not leave until sunrise," her fingers gently tapping over the great desk set up where the corridors connecting all the endless rows of shelves came together. "Often, I would read a book a night. Sometimes even two. Too many to count."
The knight smiled hearing a more warming story of Syn's childhood at last.
"Explains why you can go days without sleep," she joked.
"In all honesty, I had some help," Syn grinned and pressed a hidden button on that grand desk, revealing a secret compartment on the backside.
The half-elf pulled out a bag and offered it to her comrade.
"Take one. You will never taste anything sweeter," Syn said.
"Candy?" Lyanne said observing the lump of chocolate until she inhaled its scent.
It was potent... and made her body tingle in all the right ways.
"Is that Asterea?" she asked, her nostrils flaring on their own.
"Indeed. Some of the elderly scholars need assistance to keep their minds sharp," Syn explained and leisurely planted the candy on her tongue, relishing it with every bite. "That or those old perverts simply prefer to feel some fire return to their rusty bodies. One of the two."
Lyanne chew away and immediately felt her senses enhance as her body reacted to the elixir of life. And a welcoming heat flocking to her balls and cock, stiffening in her pants.
"I can't blame them one bit," she grinned.
Syn's tent was also showing, but her eyes never filled with lust.
"The night is still young. What do you say? Let us turn it into one of learning?" she asked.
"Couldn't have said it any better," Lyanne agreed. "But where do we even start?"
"Don't you worry, I know this place like the back of my hand," Syn said and threw her arms around the stronger woman. "But let's get you something good to read first."
Lyanne nodded emphatically, unable to resist becoming infected with her commander's infectious enthusiasm.
Four ancient books propped up before her, the secret stash of Asterea infused sweets next to her and the Old Maester's great table at her disposal. As much as Syn swore to herself to not harbour any warm feelings towards the place of her youth, being reunited with her books and her beloved library stirred within her the last emotion she'd ever expect herself to experience from her: nostalgia.
Her eyes wandered, reminding her of all the hours she strolled past the endless rows of great tales. Leading her imagination to places they never fully returned from. Syn would never admit it, but she always found the greatest appeal in designating one's life to the pursuit of endless knowledge. And even more infuriatingly, deep down, understood why her father chose that sort of life over... everything else.
Syn carefully turned another page on Dilaran's journal, feeling the weight of the historians of old immortalizing the great Lord's voyage with every word. The smirk on her face refused to leave her. While her heart had been a storm of rage ever since her return to Yarathrond, this was the one place that brought her peace.
Lyanne sat in one of the apprentice's table's below her, her eyes also flickering with awe and candlelight. Truly, seeing someone else's first leap into the realm of wonder, reliving days long gone, those must have been the moments any scholar lived for.
