Qu’ellar Mal’aun by Rylyrr

Qu’ellar Mal’aun

rylyrr

The throne room of Qu’ellar Mal’aun was as cold and imposing as his grandmother’s unusual and cruel eyes. As beautiful as glittering amethyst and frigid as the stone beneath the blue ice of the far northern caverns, the Matron’s eyes were shot through with deep rosy flashes, and when his grandmother focused those glinting orbs on her firstborn grandson, glistening lips lifted into a smile at the instant and obvious discomfort. Bel’ was seated on a throne of bleached and warped bone, her black silk clad body perfectly displayed against the pale ivory that were Rylyrr’s grandfather’s bones. The large skull was suspended from the vaulted ceiling by spun silk as strong as steel cables, over the throne and staring vehemently towards those entering the vast chamber. Gold light spilled from the empty sockets and washed the large space in the rich hue.

Rylyrr, loyal Paladin of Lloth, was not immune to the gripping effects of her stare but he did have the advantage of knowing there was the possibility she might unleash that power on him, so it was with minimal outward signs that the artificial fear expressed itself. He’d hoped that the extra enchantments to his umber hulk armor would have eliminated the effect but it didn’t to his consternation. That she did only confirmed that his grandmother had not forgiven him for joining his mother and abandoning her.

Dinner had proven to be a trying affair both because of Rylyrr having to constantly field his grandmother’s prying questions about his mother and because of the obvious attention he was receiving from Inmur’ss, a one-time lover of his. The striking strawberry-blonde was making no secret of their past and warning off other lower priestesses by word and look. After all, Rylyrr is not just the Matron’s grandson any longer but the Prince of Olath Xal and that elevated him to a desirable position for the woman who never would become high priestess in this qu’ellar, not with four of the Matron’s daughters before her. She’d climbed as high as she could here, even moved up the rank by one a year ago shortly after Rylyrr had left for the north, by murdering one of his aunts, then managed to pin the blame on that troublesome E’lavon, taking her out of the competition pool to boot.

The only bright point about the venture inside his grandmother’s home, was the baroque architecture with its great curving forms and unprecedented size, enormous domes of complex design, which seemed to captivate Vonagh from time to time. And his voice would animatedly fill Rylyrr’s head with thoughts on what should be changed at Quellarin Tagnik’zur Xal.

But despite his lover’s appreciation for the undulating facades and sweeping heights, the Prince’s mood darkened, his scowls became more frequent through the meal. The food was exotic and exquisite, a festive feast, as if she’d known he was coming with a guest, which the dangerous Matron might have. Bel’, after all, did receive visions of her own. Still, each mouthful was like grinding up sawdust to him. He could feel his lover’s nervousness and growing anxiety, his brief anger when Inmur’ss hinted at a night time visit after the Matron made it known that the Rylyrr and his companion were staying the night.

If that wasn’t bad enough, when they were shown to their rooms, Vonagh was lead off in an entirely different direction than Rylyrr. The Prince was to sleep in his old room but Vonagh was staying in the wing that housed visitors, accessible by stairs rather than the safety of the noble floor of his grandmother’s qu’ellar. His thoughts stayed with his young lover, reassuring him that they will be leaving immediately upon waking.

Rylyrr leaned against the closed door of his old room, noting that nothing had changed and breathed a sigh of relief. Alone at last. Vonagh’s anger and jealousy brought a rare smile to his face, for once the boot was on the other foot. He chuckled while moving towards the small, private bath chamber. Water. His beloved water. It will soothe his mind, wash away the aches accumulated over the past day of rough man-sex. << I promise not to enjoy it, Little Dreamer >> he couldn’t help teasing. Rylyrr really didn’t think that Inmur’ss was going to seek him out.

Beginning to take off his armor, he dealt with the tongue lashing from Vonagh and spent the better part of five minutes reassuring the younger man that no one had ever made his blood boil like he did, not even the voluptuous and ambitious priestess. The Prince took great delight in describing in intimate detail what he was going to do to him the next time the two were alone. Reptilian eyes shifted towards the door when there was a firm knock. An unpleasant knot developed in his gut and he thought about not answering it.

Vonagh immediately felt the older man’s hesitation. << What?>> When Rylyrr didn’t answer him immediately, the artist became insistent. << What?! Ry! Someone is there! SHE’S there!! >>

The accusation carried a load of anguish that almost had the scarred warrior porting to Vonagh. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t risk his or his lover’s life by ignoring the door and going to comfort Vonagh. Gritting his teeth, Rylyrr tossed the pauldron onto the bed and strode towards the door. << I don’t know who’s here yet >> He answered truthfully.

Before Vonagh had a chance to demand to be told as soon as Rylyrr knew, there is a soft knock at his door which pulled his mismatched eyes in that direction.

Sun, Dec 4th – 9:58AM