Chapter 12: Water Lilies
Igraine wandered idly along the wooded path, clutching the warm blanket around her naked body. Somehow the elven fabric managed to keep her comfortably warm from head to toe, although it looked very light and delicate. Not wishing to watch while Elathan skinned and disemboweled the dead boar, she had told him she needed a few moments of privacy. He had agreed, yet warned her not to go too far alone. “But I will always know where you are,” he had added, his amber eyes searching her face.
He seemed to have changed since they came to this forest, dark and sinister as before but also contemplative, as if he was wondering about something. She asked herself what it was that occupied his thoughts. But he was also calmer, almost jovial – she even saw a slight smile playing on his lips from time to time. Back in the caves, he had always been alert, his body tense as if he expected an unknown enemy to attack him from out of the shadows.
Igraine could still smell the scent of their lovemaking, his wonderfully male essence on her skin. Suddenly she had to smile. Although she loved his scent that still lingered on her body, she urgently needed a bath. Well, she wasn’t a vision of delight, covered with bruises and smeared with blood after the fight with the centaur, and she didn’t even want to imagine how her hair looked. She drew her fingers through it, feeling the dried blood and leaves that clung there.
“What wouldn't I give for a long, hot shower!” she murmured to herself. Somehow, the forest seemed to have noticed her wish and decided to answer, for she suddenly heard the gurgling sound of water nearby. She left the path and followed it, making her way through dense undergrowth until she discovered a shadowy glade, adorned with white blossoming elder bushes. Some of them had grown to the size of small trees. Their smell was so strong it made her feel dizzy, and she staggered for a moment.
She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed a thicker branch of a bush, trying to regain her balance. Maybe the strenuous hunt and being loved by a passionate, demanding elf had been too much for her, after all. When she felt better and dared to open her eyes again, she gasped in wonder.
The glade looked like a place only known from fairy tales, with a pond surrounded by reed grass and soft green moss. Little star-shaped flowers in different shades of purple grew everywhere; the calm surface of the water was nearly completely covered with blooming pink and white water lilies, their alluring scent mingling with the stronger one of the elder blossoms. The sight was so beautiful that she stood at the edge of the pool before she even noticed that her feet had moved towards it.
The blanket slid down her shoulder and fell to the ground. Slowly she entered the pool, shivering when the cool water played around her feet. But it felt refreshing at the same time and soothed the aching muscles of her calves. She waded deeper into the pond, easing through the water lilies, brushing the leaves gently aside with her hands. After a few steps she detected that the pool was much deeper than she thought, for her feet could hardly reach the ground anymore. Igraine held her breath and dived down. Drifting weightlessly in the water was wonderful. Coming up again, she rubbed her skin as hard as she could, trying to wash off the blood and dirt as thoroughly as possible. After that, she proceeded with her hair, scrubbing her head with her fingertips until her scalp hurt, but in the end it seemed to be clean enough.
She sighed when she thought of Elathan’s luxurious assortment of soaps he kept in his cave by the lake. Smiling, she plucked one of the water lilies and started to rub the delicate petals over her face, neck and shoulders, then over her breasts, hoping the sweet scent would still cling to her body when she returned to him.
Sinful thoughts occupied her mind. Closing her eyes, she threw back her head and remembered the hot trail his lips and tongue had left on her skin, the perfect feeling of his hardness entering her, moving, thrusting deep … A soft moan escaped her lips, and her hand glided over the sensitive side of her neck, slowly wandering down to one of her breasts, cupping her aching flesh, all the while wishing it were his long, sensitive fingers that touched her instead of her own.
So lost was she in her dreams that she didn’t notice when the water started to move around her. At first, she didn’t feel the touch of small hands that caressed her hair, her back and sides, so light it could have been the lily flower that had fallen out of her hand, floating on the water’s surface beside her. Soft kisses rained on her face, no more but the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings on her cheeks.
A pearly female laughter sounded close to her ear, and whispers filled the air. “She had him. I can smell him on her skin.”
“I taste him on her face,” another voice said, sweet and high, almost like a child’s.
“And I still feel his heat where he took her,” a third voice piped, while slender fingers trailed over her thigh, brushing slightly over the soft mound between her legs.
Slowly, Igraine opened her eyes and looked directly into the deep, blue-green gaze of a woman. Her mind didn’t seem to function normally. She should have been frightened to death, yet she wasn’t. It was hard to think clearly, as if her thoughts were lost in a thick cloud that filled her head. Suddenly she felt sleepy and longed to return to the water's edge, just to take a little nap. Still she couldn’t resist watching the beautiful creature before her.
It was a young woman - very young indeed, for she seemed to have just blossomed into womanhood. She was completely naked, with small soft breasts and a lithe, slender body, her skin so white that is was nearly translucent. Igraine could see a delicate net of bluish veins at the girl’s neck, even the blood pulsating near to her throat. Green tendrils of water plants were entangled in her long, auburn hair that reached down to her waist and was plastered to her wet body like a natural piece of clothing. But the girl’s eyes betrayed her outer appearance. They seemed to belong to a much older being, not innocent but glowing with wisdom and malice.
A light touch at her shoulder made Igraine turn around. There were two other women, one on each side of her, who looked exactly like the first one. Their soft white arms encircled Igraine closely, as if they wanted to embrace her. But she could still feel how strong they were, more than mere girls should be. They were holding her imprisoned, and there was nothing she could do against it. When she struggled to free her arms, they only clung tighter to her body, making it impossible for her to move at all.
The first girl smiled sweetly, revealing white teeth that seemed to be sharp with tiny fangs. Perfect for tearing apart the flesh of fish and little water animals, Igraine realized without knowing from where the thought had come. When she took a closer look at the woman’s neck, she saw gills behind her ears, barely visible because their color exactly matched the pale skin. She lifted a hand to caress Igraine’s cheek, and there were even tiny webs between her fingers.
Mermaid, a voice whispered inside Igraine’s head. But the girl had perfectly human legs, so she must be something else … A water nymph, Igraine thought in wonder, so fascinated that she didn’t realize the deadly danger she was in.
“Little sister,” the nymph said, her voice as caressing as the touch of her hand on Igraine’s cheek. “Come with us. You will forget everything that ails you, bathing in the sweet warm waters of oblivion forever. No fear, no pain, I promise. We will care for you, young one, I and my sisters. We’ll comb your beautiful hair and braid it before we lay you down on a bed of flowers at the water’s edge. The prince will find you there when he comes for you. He'll never see you fade as you grow old and weak, his desire eternal and undying. The beautiful image of your pale, still body will be engraved in his mind forever, and he'll keep it in his heart always. You will be … immortal.” The last word was but a whisper into Igraine’s ear, sending little shivers down her spine.
Igraine felt the creatures' magic all around her, coaxing her to let go of her life without fighting against them. Just for the blink of an eye, she wondered how it would feel to sink into their white arms, allowing them to draw her down into the deep waters of the pond. But she managed to shake her head. The first nymph who had spoken hissed and narrowed her eyes.
“No,” Igraine whispered. “I can’t. Elathan … he needs me.”
Suddenly, the nymph’s beautiful face was contorted with hatred and fury. She drew back her lips over her sharp teeth, making her expression look almost reptilian.
“He needs you? A human?” she shrieked, her voice not sweet but high and shrill now. Igraine felt the fingers of the nymph’s sisters dig deep into her flesh as they began to pull her down, towards the bottom of the pond.
“He doesn’t need you,” one of the other two added, very close to Igraine’s ear. “We had him long before you were born, all three of us. He could never find pleasure in the arms of a mortal woman after being with a nymph,” she remarked cruelly.
“Oh, we know the prince, little human,” the third one continued in a mocking tone. “He took me in every way imaginable. I had him, between my thighs, in my mouth … I will never forget how hard he is, how strong, and how he tasted when he …”
Igraine had enough. She felt a hot rush of anger racing through her body. At the same time, an overwhelming feeling of jealousy and possessiveness took hold of her. “Stop it!” she cried out. “I don’t care if you had him ages ago, fish women. We shared our blood. He is mine now, and there is nothing you can …”
A cold hand covered her head and pushed her under water before she had time to hold her breath. Instinctively, she gasped for air instead of closing her mouth. Cold water filled her lungs, and she began to struggle desperately against the nymphs who dragged her down, deeper and deeper, but it was in vain.
The last thing she saw before the black water swallowed her world were his golden eyes, looking at her with concern when she had left him in the clearing. A sudden knowledge came to her, a feeling so pure, so strong she had never even imagined herself to be capable of it. But it was too late.
I love him, a clear voice in her mind whispered before darkness embraced her. Then, as the nymphs had promised, all fear and pain was gone, and she sank down into sweet oblivion.
* * * * *
To Igraine’s surprise, she was not dead yet.
She didn't see Elathan when he stormed into the glade like a flash of silvery light, his regal face a grimace of deadly fury. She didn't see him throw his lance into the dark waters of the pond, piercing the heart of the nymph who had her hand on Igraine’s head, mercilessly pushing her down with a cold smile on her delicate features while she openly enjoyed the human’s desperate struggle for breath.
She didn't hear his voice rolling like thunder over the calm surface of the water, ordering the other two sisters to leave his forest and never return if they didn’t want to suffer the same fate, while the dying nymph’s blood gushed from the wound like a red fountain; a crimson pool forming around her and spreading over the pond. She didn't see the naked fear on their innocent faces before they took their sister, retrieved the spear from her chest and pulled her down into the depths, escaping through some underground water system to another lake or river before Elathan could end their lives, as well.
And she didn't see him plunge deep into the pool, searching for her as she slowly drifted to the ground, her long hair floating around her head like a cloud. Finally, he grabbed her arms and pulled her out to the water’s edge, where he lay her down on the soft grass. He covered her mouth with his, breathing life into her until she coughed and spat out the water that filled her lungs.
As Igraine slowly came to her senses, she felt strong arms around her, cradling her to a muscular chest. She felt smooth skin that felt burning hot against her icy cheek, heard the quick pounding of a strong heart. A deep, melodic voice, nearly breaking with emotion, murmured words in an unknown language to her.
“Ná faigh bás, Igraine. Ná faigh bás,” he said again and again. It sounded like a command, as if the words held a magic spell that could bring her back to life. It wasn’t necessary to know his elven tongue to understand their meaning. Do not die. He pulled her even closer, resting his chin on her head while he chanted those three words like an ancient song, rocking her back and forth like a child. His hair fell forward over his shoulders, caressing her naked body like a lover’s touch.
The prince noticed the regular beating of her heart and the faint color that had come to her cheeks again. Before he finally fell silent, he said something else. It was but a whisper breathed into her hair, but she heard the words nevertheless. “Tá mé i ngrádh leat.” Although she didn't comprehend what he meant, all of a sudden she felt like her heart would break.
They both realized that she shivered; he let go of her for a moment to quickly to pull off his shirt and dress her cold, wet body in it. His warmth still clung to it. Igraine sighed when his unique scent surrounded her like a caress, calming her fears. “I need to get you warm,” he said. “Let’s leave this evil place.”
He swept her up in his arms without waiting for her approval, standing up with ease. Then she watched in awe as the elf stretched out his hand from under her body as if he expected something to be given to him. Suddenly a long root on the ground slowly wound itself around the shaft of his spear and raised it up to him, placing it into his palm. Igraine gasped and looked into his eyes questioningly. “You are a magician,” she said at last.
“Not exactly,” Elathan answered, while he started to walk. To her surprise, he was carrying her effortlessly in his arms. He ignored the elder bushes at the edge of the glade that parted to let him through. “My people would call me a wood-former, but this magic is not my most important ability. I am also able to summon fire if I wish, as well as control or destroy it. The power over the flame is a very mighty gift, and it is only bestowed to the throne heir, the king’s oldest son. I was born with it.” He grinned. “You should have heard my nanny’s screams when I set the nursery on fire for the first time. She was a cave troll and gave me the beating of my life to teach me not to do it again.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Next place where I started a fire was her bed.”
“You must have been a charming little prince,” Igraine remarked, and he chuckled. She loved it when a smile softened his sinister features. It made his face almost painfully beautiful. Hesitantly she stretched out her hand to touch the old scar across his cheek, tracing it with her fingertips. “My dark angel,” she whispered. Elathan's eyes widened, and it occurred to her that, it had been a long time since he heard an endearment like this, if ever. He held her close to the hard muscles of his chest, as if she was made of glass and he was afraid to drop her. Never before in her life had she felt so safe.
When they reached the clearing, a merry fire was burning in the middle. The boar Elathan had brought from his hunt was roasting on a wooden spit that seemed to turn on itself, enhanced by magic. But when Igraine looked closer she saw several tiny lights flying around one end, obviously moving it. She stiffened when she recognized them. They didn't seem to like what they were doing; she could hear their high, agitated shrieks.
“Yes, some of your little friends who tried to lure you into the bog,” Elathan said close to her ear. “It is part of their punishment. They fear nothing more than open fire, for it can burn their delicate wings if they are not careful. I do not take it lightly if someone tries to kill what is mine, even if it is in their nature. They are vile little creatures.”
He shooed them away with a gesture of his hand, telling them something in his elven tongue. It sounded like a warning. Igraine guessed that it might be an old form of Gaelic, but softer and less guttural. His mesmerizing voice would have made any language sound like an alluring song. She loved just listening to him.
Igraine was surprised to find a pile of green, soft velvet cushions and blankets laid out before the fire. Elathan gently placed her down on the makeshift bed. When she looked at him, he smiled at her. “There are not only fairies who try to kill unknowing humans who stumble through their wood, Igraine. Some of them have very skillful little hands, and they love to make beautiful things … like this.”
He reached under a pillow and drew out a lovely dark red gown which shimmered golden where light fell upon it. It had wide sleeves that were slit up to the elbows, revealing golden brocade underneath. The long, flowing skirt was embroidered with tiny birds and flowers. With it came a girdle made of golden coins, each of them bearing the royal seal and a white, sleeveless chemise so thin it seemed to be made out of cobwebs. Speechless, Igraine held it into the light. The fabric was incredibly fine, yet it felt comfortably warm on her hands.
“How did you …?” she breathed, uncomprehendingly, while the elf sat down at her side.
“Bring you a new dress in the middle of the forest? I don’t know … with magic, perhaps?” he answered mockingly, one pale brow raised. Her joy about his present seemed to please him. He took a hand to her face and cupped her jaw, looking into her eyes. “It will suit you very well, sweet Igraine. But haven’t you forgotten something?” She felt her pulse quicken under his scrutinizing gaze.
“You forgot to thank your prince for his efforts, woman,” he murmured before he lowered his head to hers and placed a soft kiss on her lips, light as the touch of a feather. He deeply inhaled the scent of her skin, whispering “water lilies”, before he continued to kiss her chin, her cheeks and the tip of her nose, each sensitive lid of her closed eyes. Shortly he pressed his forehead to hers, and she heard his unspoken order in her mind.
Never try to leave me again, Igraine. I need you.
“I did not leave…” she breathed, but never finished the sentence because he claimed her lips with a fierce, hard kiss, letting her know what it had cost him when he had found her drowning in the pond, drifting peacefully towards her death. “Why didn’t you fight them with all your strength, Igraine?” he asked her, anger in his voice. “Why did you give up so easily? Is there no reason for you to live?”
His hands covered her shoulders, shaking her as his eyes burned with fury. “I shared my blood with you, made you mine forever,” he growled, his rugged breath proving how hard he struggled to control himself. “You will stay with me, Igraine. I forbid you to give up again, no matter what happens. Your fate is no longer your own choice. You are mine,” he finished, starting to kiss her again, his mouth taking hers recklessly. His tongue moved playfully over her lips until she opened up for him, licking teasingly at his upper lip. He groaned and sucked her into his mouth, playing with her until she could take no more and threw her arms around his neck, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him closer to her.
She didn’t even know how he had removed his tight pants and boots, but suddenly they were gone, his glorious naked body rising over hers while he eased her gently down to the silken pillows. His long fingers slid under the hem of his shirt that still covered her trembling body. Inch by inch, he pushed it up, over her hips and her tight belly until he bared her sweet, supple breasts, rosy nipples hardening under his gaze. His eyes went dark with desire. Quickly, he pulled the shirt over her head and carelessly threw it to the side.
“Mine,” the prince repeated admiringly, his deep voice husky. His hands cupped the twin mounds and pressed them together, raising them up to meet his lips as he lowered his head, his moonlight hair stroking her oversensitive, heated skin. Then his lips devoured one sensitive peak, kissing it first, his rough elven tongue circling it until she moaned with pleasure. He bit her very softly, making her cry out before he sucked her into his mouth as if he wanted to eat her alive.
He continued to cover her other breast with tender bites, his teeth grazing her skin ever so slightly. Igraine wriggled helplessly, wishing he would enter her hot, throbbing emptiness that yearned for him so desperately. His hand began to explore the soft lines of her waist and hip, slowly searching a way between her legs. Igraine writhed beneath him, eager to touch his skin. But the prince was in control now, lifting his body from her so she could not press herself against him. She moaned with frustration, spreading her thighs for him.
The elf chuckled. “So eager today, sweet Igraine? Let’s see how thankful you really are, little slave …” A long, sensitive finger glided over the inside of her thigh, moving up until he reached the core of her womanhood. He opened her tenderly, wetting his finger with her juices before he entered her slick channel, probing it. Igraine cried out and threw back her head, dark curls spilling over her naked shoulders.
“Well, you are a thankful wench indeed,” Elathan murmured, then hooked his finger into the soft swollen pad of flesh he felt inside there, pushing up gently. He smiled when he heard her surprised, lustful scream, demanding more of his sensual play. Kissing her, he inserted a second finger and repeated his upward movement, increasing the pressure while his thumb started to rub over her aching little bud in small circles. It made her scream again, so he rubbed her some more, moving his fingers inside her simultaneously.
“Mine,” he said for a third time, close to her lips.
Igraine convulsed so violently around his hand that he felt her inner muscles squeeze him hard, making it impossible for a moment to withdraw his fingers. He continued stroking her insides, intensifying her climax until she came again and again, waves of ecstasy rippling through her body.
She was still throbbing with one explosion after another when he moved away his hand and replaced it with his long hard manhood. Holding her in his arms, he sheathed himself into her with one quick, graceful movement of his hips. Gently he raised his long fingers to her lips, offering her a taste of her own honey before he licked it off with a naughty smile. Moaning, she clenched around him when he started to move inside her. In and out he went, slowly first, but moving deeper and deeper into her before he pulled back again, only to enter her anew. Igraine molded herself to his magnificent body and met his mighty thrusts by pushing up against him, wanting him to go faster. Their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another as they mated with equal passion.
When he heard her scream out his name, the prince lost all self-restraint and drove himself into her softness like a wild beast. He groaned with pleasure as he spilled himself, her tight inner muscles contracting around him while she found her final release. This time it was Igraine who bit her pale lover, marking the skin of his neck with her teeth in a raw act of possession.
“Mine,” she whispered into the silken mass of his hair. She didn’t see the amazed expression in Elathan’s eyes before he caught her in his strong embrace, making it impossible for her to ever leave him again.