by Vi Voxley
Right when they were about to exit the shrine, the chieftain turned to face him.
Although Nadar was his father, Brocke couldn't deny that the chieftain had that undeniable sense of invincibility about him. As Mara and Cora stepped back, one looking amused and the other a little taken aback, Brocke stepped forward to meet the challenge.
"The shrine seems to approve of our plans," Nadar said. "I see no one else around to witness this. I guess it means the answer will be known to only us four."
Battle hormones were rushing through Brocke's veins with dizzying speed as he pulled his twin blades free, watching the chieftain do the same. His head was filled with calculations and analysis, trying to count for all the possibilities.
Brocke knew the chieftain had experience on his side, as well as cunning. He, on the other hand, was younger and faster. They were both powerfully built like all Corgan warriors, their twin hearts beating faster as their bodies prepared for the upcoming fight.
There was a smirk on Nadar Brenger's lips as the chieftain approached, slowly and surely.
Brocke hated when his father smiled like that. It meant, without a shadow of doubt, that Nadar thought he knew something others didn't. And Brocke had no intention of being humiliated in front of Cora.
"First blood," he stated, receiving a nod from Nadar, still looking completely calm except for the brightness of his eyes.
He could hear Cora's frightened cry when the chieftain dashed at him, but Brocke was prepared. Their swords met in the air, clashing together in a rain of sparks. As quickly as they'd come together, the warriors pushed themselves back from one another.
Brocke dropped lower, making sure he had good footing. They twirled around each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. Out of the corner of his eye, Brocke could see Cora and his mother watching.
He wondered how odd Corgan customs and ways were to them. He was a warrior and a challenge had been uttered. The Terrans would simply have to understand.
Besides, as much as his rational mind denied it, the warrior spirit within Brocke needed to know the result of the duel.
Their movements became so fast that even in the midst of it, Brocke was having a hard time distinguishing the four blades from each other. If the chieftain had the same problem, he gave no indication of it.
Brocke didn't even notice how close he'd gotten to the edge of the shrine before he nearly stepped off it. The motion knocked him off-balance and the chieftain was quick to take advantage of that. Nadar's blade went by Brocke's ear so closely he could feel the metallic coldness of the sword before he twisted his head away and regained his footing.
Not yet.
The chieftain gave him an appreciative nod, giving Brocke room to approach. There was no honor in winning against a disadvantaged opponent, but the point was clear. In a fight with Nadar Brenger, not focusing was a sure loss.
Brocke attacked with newfound vigor, intent to wipe the grin from his father’s lips. The chance came when he thought to use the mist to his advantage. The visibility was already bad, but the light around them had yet to be utilized. Blinding someone with the rays of daylight was not easy, but after long moments Brocke discovered he could make a decent attempt.
Nadar Brenger noticed just a fraction of a second before he would have lost the duel. The chieftain had to jump and roll back out of the way of Brocke's blades. When he got up, the knowing grin was gone, replaced with a ferocious glee that Brocke had only seen in his father's eyes during his best fights.
It was a compliment, but it came at the tip of two razor-sharp blades suddenly coming his way with terrible speed.
Brocke lost track of time after that moment. The warmup was over and it was time to fight for real. He struck and parried and so did the chieftain, matching his every movement with the perfect counter. Brocke knew he had to break that deadlock soon or they would be dueling long after the sun had set.
He tried out more reckless moves, feeling the chieftain's blades cut his armor, but answering with the same.
They were both out of breath, moving so quickly that the mist around them didn't have time to gather. It was like they were keeping an arena free for themselves, when in truth it was only a testament to the ferocity of their fight.
Finally, Brocke saw his chance. The move the chieftain was going for was a feint, but it was also a trap. Nadar was baiting him to take it and Brocke wasn't going to leave it just because he knew there would be a followup.
He dashed towards the chieftain, using one blade to cover his approach, while stabbing out with the other. Just like he'd predicted, Nadar stopped both movements, but it had brought them so close together that first blood was only a matter of seconds.
Brocke dropped one of the blades at once while Nadar leaned back a little to give himself room to slice with both. The swords cut through the air, neither one of them able to dodge the inevitable.
Both strikes struck home, making blood flow and Brocke to match his father's grin. He'd managed to strike at Nadar's throat, while the chieftain's blade had lodged in one of Brocke's shoulder guards and cut through to wound.
They stood, breathing heavily. Cora rushed to him to make sure the cut wasn't anything serious, but Brocke didn't need to see to know.
"It looks superficial," Cora said, giving him a glare. "This was pretty barbaric, you know."
"Nothing of the sort," the chieftain said, overhearing, sheathing his swords after yanking one of them out of Brocke’s shoulder. "We have gained a valuable lesson here today."
"That you're equally good?" Mara James asked, shrugging. "I could have told you that without any blood at all."
"Not equal," Brocke argued before the chieftain could do so, but Nadar nodded approvingly. "We didn't prove anything right now, because this was hardly a fight. There was no real intention to hurt or to kill. But we got an idea of what fighting each other would be like and it's hard. All we learned is that as far as we're concerned, the question of who's better is a valid one."
Cora still didn't look convinced, but that was to be expected. Brocke loved the way she only gave the whole ordeal a second of thought before pulling herself up by the straps of his armor to kiss him deeply.
Nadar and Mara left the shrine ahead of them, heading back to the beach. Brocke and Cora lingered for a few moments, taking the chance to be alone. The guardian gathered her into his embrace, kissing her soft curly hair.
"Did you really see a boy in our future?" she asked, leaning against him as they watched the sea crashing against the shrine.
"Yes," he said. "It might not mean what I take it for, but walking the shrine isn't exactly a precise science."
Cora laughed softly, nodding.
"Maybe, but I still like it," she said. "When our son is born, I assume there will come a day when you fight him like this?"
"Of course," Brocke said, running his hands over Cora's perfect body. "A warrior can only grow stronger when they're tested."
"And you still want to claim that wasn't a real battle?" Cora asked.
"No," Brocke said, turning serious. "This was nothing like the real thing. I've only ever been in one true battle. The day I saw you in danger in Olyra. I told you before. Only when a warrior has everything to lose, will he really fight."
Cora turned in his arms to look at him lovingly.
"Everything?" she teased.
"Everything," Brocke confirmed, watching as her eyes went wide. "Come what may, I will never lose a fight when it comes to you."
He pulled her more tightly against him, watching the crystalline ocean lazily playing with the shore. In his arms, Cora sighed happily, their hands entwined across her belly.
6
Cora
Six years later…
"I can't believe they have kept our quarters," Cora said, stepping into their rooms in the Citadel, with Maeron running ahead to find the sharpest thing in the vicinity.
She called them "crazy Corgan genes," saying they were heavily at work where he
r son was confirmed.
Brocke said it was a mark that Maeron would be a great warrior, since he portrayed an uncanny skill to always locate the nearest weapon.
"They always do," Brocke said, coming up to kiss her, before kneeling and placing another kiss on Cora's growing belly. "It's been six years, I'm positive no one else will be claiming these rooms."
"Yeah," Cora agreed, watching as Maeron stormed from room to room like a little hurricane. "But what do they use them for when we're not in the Citadel? That is, like, most of time."
"This is a mountain," Brocke told her lovingly. "Room isn't exactly an issue."
Cora threw her things on the sofa and looked around. She couldn't believe how similar everything looked to the day when she'd first come to the Citadel.
"Do you remember our first nights here?" she asked dreamily. "They were amazing."
"I remember vividly," Brocke said, coming to kiss her again. "We should do that again."
"We didn't get out of the bed for weeks," Cora pointed out, not even bothering to pretend the idea didn't very much appeal to her.
"I fail to see your argument," Brocke said, caressing Cora's body.
She moaned quietly, loving the guardian's strong hands around her. After so much time, Cora had stopped waiting for the joy to end and just went along with it. To her, being with Brocke was getting better every day, even counting handling the little hurricane they'd created.
"We should go say hi," Cora said, reluctantly removing herself from Brocke's embrace. "Maeron has been talking about this duel for months, I don't think we can keep him away much longer."
"The challenger appears," the chieftain said as soon as they walked through the door.
Cora noticed how Maeron's eyes immediately lit up at that. She couldn't help but smile at her son's pure joy over finally getting to be like his father.
Sure, a part of Cora still felt weird about giving her child weapons, even if they had blunted edges, but Mara James had explained to her that Corgans simply didn't experience natural clumsiness. Still, the whole thing about not running with scissors played through her mind every time she saw Maeron blazing past with his swords.
"Besides," Mara had said. "Maeron has promised to only duel Brocke and Nadar until they say otherwise. And I'm pretty sure they can handle themselves around sharp blades without hurting anyone they don't mean to hit."
In Cora's mind, that was fair enough. It wasn't like she was bringing a kid to an aging grandfather. There was nothing "grand" about Nadar Brenger, except in the most literal way.
The chieftain still looked like he did in his prime, unchallenged for years despite there being plenty of strong, young warriors. No one simply thought they could beat him, even now.
The chieftain came to greet them, his blue eyes as bright as ever. Mara James joined him, standing by her husband's side like every time Cora had seen them. She loved seeing them like that since they reminded Cora of herself and Brocke, giving her faith that they had the same happiness waiting in the future.
"Are you ready, Maeron?" the chieftain turned to the child with a completely serious expression on his face.
Cora had to suppress a proud smile, seeing the way her son immediately stood at guard, remembering where he was and who he was talking to.
"Yes, Chieftain," Maeron said. "I've been practicing."
"Good," Nadar Brenger nodded. "With your father?"
"Yes," Maeron said proudly. "Father says I'll soon have a little brother to train with too. And that I can teach him when he gets older."
"That's an honorable job," the chieftain said, motioning for them all to follow him to the table waiting for them, packed with food and drinks. "You better be ready for your little brother."
The look on Maeron's face was one of pure betrayal.
"But–" he began, "our duel? You promised me."
"I did," Nadar agreed, looking back with a grin. "It has already begun. Whenever you're ready, Maeron. I am waiting."
With a savage glee, Maeron pulled his little toy sword and ran after the chieftain. Cora sighed, joining Mara at the dinner table while the three generations of men fought.
"What was the deal again?" Mara asked, as cheerful as ever.
"If Maeron lands a blow, he's won," Cora explained, picking a fruit for herself before going for the easier way and just lifting the whole bowl onto her belly. "Are you seeing this? I'm getting so big I can literally balance things on myself now."
Mara chuckled, leaning back in her chair.
"I can see that," she said. "I remember, too. It's the best part of the pregnancy. I had a lot of fun with that, trying to balance things on the bump."
Cora almost spat out her fruits, laughing.
"Really? What was the weirdest?" she asked.
"I'd say the house of cards," Mara said without blinking an eye. "I was teaching Nadar about Terran games and we started playing. That version turned out to be a lot more fun. So, has Maeron ever succeeded?"
Looking at her son, Cora shook her head.
"What do you think?" she answered, watching the way Maeron kept trying to hit the chieftain who parried all of his blows easily with his own blades. You'd think I have a problem with that, Cora's inner voice said. But that's Nadar fucking Brenger. Like Mara said, I'm pretty sure he can handle a blade.
Brocke was close by, standing a little to the side. There was a universal look of a proud father on his face that Cora absolutely adored. The guardian was encouraging Maeron, pointing out his son's weak spots and possible openings for attack.
It looked like a world of fun, even if she had never felt the desire to join those particular activities.
“I wonder, would it be any different with a little girl?” Cora asked, halfway musing to herself.
“Nope,” Mara said immediately, sipping on a cup of tea. “Once a Corgan, always a Corgan. Its swords or nothing.”
The duel continued well into dinnertime. The chieftain had barely had time to sit down before Maeron dashed out from under the table, sword in his hand.
Nadar Brenger was still able to move so fast it made Cora dizzy to watch, although those days she got dizzy easily. The blade appeared in the chieftain's hand like it had teleported there and he stopped Maeron's blow without looking.
Only then did the chieftain turn his head and grin.
"Sneaky," he said, no hint of reprimand in his voice. "Unfortunately for you, I'm sneakier."
Maeron laughed joyfully. Cora loved that about her son. He didn't mind losing the duel at all, not one bit. All Maeron wanted was a challenge and to be taken seriously. He reminded Cora of Brocke so much, especially with his messy dark hair and stubborn frown, though of course Brocke would never lose.
"If you two want to slip away, go ahead," Mara James said, cutting into Cora's thoughts.
The offer was so unexpected her mouth dropped open. It sounded exactly like Mara, but Cora hadn't even considered the possibility she was suggesting.
"Don't gape at me like a fish out of water," Mara went on, smiling. "I know it's hard to find time for each other when your child is at that blessed age between being a baby and having their own life. Go, go. We will watch Maeron."
Cora wasn't sure what to say, so she just nodded gratefully and slipped out of her chair. She went over to Brocke, whispering her plan into his ear. The guardian's head snapped in her direction so fast Cora thought she heard it crack.
They slipped out of the room so quietly Maeron didn't even notice, completely caught up in his duel.
The doors hadn't even properly slid shut behind them when Brocke lifted Cora into his arms and carried her to the bed, placing her down on the sheets gently. She began tugging at her clothes urgently, knowing there wasn't going to be a long foreplay. With Maeron and Brocke spending half of his time in Gomor, Cora was so desperate for him it hurt.
"Take me," she whispered, spreading her legs. "I don't care about the clothes, I'll get new ones. You don't even have to take the armor away, just please
, Brocke–"
“I intend to,” he growled.
The guardian did take the time to put his blades as far away from Cora and their unborn baby as possible, but that was all. Brocke discarded his armor so quickly Cora only heard thuds when the pieces hit the floor, too busy trying to undo her own clothes.
In the end, Brocke ripped what she couldn't untie and kissed her ravenously. He groped her breasts, pushing two fingers into Cora's wet pussy as soon as he could. She moaned loudly, grinding herself down on the digits.
The heat of pleasure was rising with every second as she pulled Brocke between her legs, rubbing her body against his hardening cock. Brocke growled deeply at the back of his throat when Cora wrapped her fingers around his thick length and gave it a few tugs.
It was enough to get him fully hard and even that wasn't really needed. Cora could see and feel how much seeing her like that was turning the guardian on. She knew Brocke loved her, loved giving her pleasure above everything else.
The way she must have looked, eyes clouded over, panting, presenting her body to him... Cora wasn't surprised when Brocke pulled his fingers out and roamed up her body to meet her lips.
She cried out in absolute ecstasy when Brocke entered her. The foreplay hadn't been enough, Cora knew that, but she wouldn't have changed it for the world. She bit her lip not to cum right then and there as she felt every inch of Brocke's huge cock press into her tight pussy.
Brocke gave her a moment to adjust when he was finally fully seated, but then he started moving with an earthshattering pace. Cora could feel he was keeping his thrusts shallow for the sake of the baby, but it was enough to drive her quickly out of her mind. She tore at the sheets, moaning.
"Fuck, yes! Right there, fuck don't stop... Brocke!"