10. Aegir
Chapter ten
Aegir
IN WHICH TRAINING PROVIDES AN AVENUE, BUT ONLY AFTER brEAKFAST, AND STABBING IS ENCOURAGED
A egir’s legs were trapped. Technically, Elspeth’s legs were trapped, but he could hardly move without disturbing her.
Sometime in the night, she’d wiggled her feet under his legs and now he faced an issue. Did he move his legs and wake her up, alerting her to the fact that he was touching her? Or did he leave them, and let her discover it on her own? Considering her reaction to his touch, he opted for the former. Tightening his stomach, he removed weight from his legs, and little by little raised them ever so gently off of her feet. It took an interminable amount of time, but seeing how sweet she looked still asleep when he was done, he deemed the effort worth it. She’d scooted a fair way down the bed to reach his feet, abandoning her pillow in her sleep, though the covers were pulled up tight under her chin. Her eyebrow whiskers twitched in her sleep, such a distinctive thing, that he’d never have thought to call cute, but there it was, regardless.
Seeing as he was already dressed, he donned his boots and headed downstairs. He’d somehow reverted to his full human form in his sleep, so he sharpened his ears to appear an elf again. 1 He could smell something fresh from the oven and thought Elspeth might enjoy it when she woke. As he hopped down the stairs, he realized he felt… light. He was no stranger to doing things for others, but usually it was with an end goal in mind. He’d buy a lover a fancy bauble, knowing that it would cause them to divulge important information or tumble into bed with him. In this instance though, while he did have an end in mind, it was nothing more than a smile. He practically bounced downstairs… all for the promise, the possibility, that he’d see the crinkle at the corner of her eyes or a blush on her cheeks.
Aegir was under no illusion that he’d get more from her—perhaps eventually—but somehow that smile was worth it. How could it be that the reaction of one selkie could outshine years of sexual experiences? It was hard to believe, but he found that he was more eagerly anticipating it than any clandestine affair he’d had in years. This bond must be a powerful thing, indeed.
The back stairwell led straight into the kitchens, he’d always had a knack for sussing such things out, and this was no exception. There, he found the round little cook that had always treated him kindly, regardless. He looked an elf again, and they thought him some minor noble. He swaggered in, knowing that any treat she might pass along was likely laced with her hopes of favor. That the tax collectors might skip her inn, that she could escape the future ire of the Pathian army, that Trina—whom he noticed leaned against a counter—might marry into his stature.
Sadly, it was a common myth perpetuated by the Pathian government, that at least common elves or minor nobles might look outside their race for marriage. According to the story, any offspring were invariably elves, for their bloodlines were stronger, of course. But he’d never seen any evidence for such marriages, and plenty of half-blood bastards to suggest that it was no more than a lie to keep people complacent, cooperative, and receptive to elvish advances.
“Good morning ladies,” he greeted.
Trina, thankfully, rolled her eyes, and sauntered out of the room, though he noticed she still swished her little tail in hopes that he’d linger on her rump as he always had before. Instead, he rolled his eyes again and turned his attention back to Mrs. Engels.
“Don’t you mind her none,” she said. “Trina’s just sad to have her favorite patron snatched up is all.”
“Not at all. Anyone would be sad to see me go.” He flashed her a smile, though the persona grated on him. He could be this man in his sleep, and hated him for being an elf at all, of course, but he’d always had fun in the guise. He’d always reveled in the havoc he could wreak on the Empire’s image, the knowledge that even if he hurt people, it was in the name of sullying the Empire in their eyes. It had always seemed worth the price. He was working for their freedom, and if they had made themselves promises about him that he wasn’t privy to, that was their problem.
Now? He wasn’t so sure…
H e was on the bottom stair with a full tray of food when he heard Elspeth’s whines. His heart dropped to his stomach and he took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the scalding tea that sloshed onto his hand. He healed it without a thought because he needed to get to her. Who knew what was wrong. Was she being attacked? Was someone in the room with her? Had someone discovered she was a selkie? He barreled up the stairs and down the hall, determined to get to her and stop whatever caused her distress. With an elbow, he pressed the door handle and barged into the room, abandoning the tray immediately.
Elspeth was in bed with her eyes closed, whipping her head back and forth. She was whimpering, sweat beaded on her forehead. While he felt the tiniest bit of relief that she wasn’t in danger, his heart squeezed at seeing her pain. He hurried to her side and stopped himself just before shaking her. His hand hovered in the air and he saw the look on her face when he’d touched her the night before. For a moment, he’d been sure she was happy. And then, with a shudder, her face had twisted in fear, eyes squeezed shut and she’d been far, far away. Tucking his fingers to his palm, he pulled away.
“Elspeth,” he whispered, hoping it would be enough to pull her from her nightmare. “Elspeth.”
She didn’t respond. What was he to do? He couldn’t leave her like that? He clenched and unclenched his hands, detesting the helplessness that gripped him. Perhaps, if he simply nudged her with a pillow, that might be all right. Gingerly, he pressed a pillow against her shoulder and shook her.
Elspeth’s eyes flew open and Aegir breathed a sigh of relief.
“Is it time to go?” she asked. She was up and across the room before he could react, pulling her travel dress from the pack he’d bought her.
“No, you were just having a nightmare, so I woke you.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She clutched the dress in front of her, her eyes straying to where he’d abandoned the tray. “I see breakfast has been delivered. ”
Aegir nodded and crossed to set the food out on the table. Elspeth padded over after a moment, her pelt clutched around her shoulders like a cloak. Her little toes stuck out from the bottom of her shift, and Aegir’s heart tugged at how adorable and intimate it was to see her toes in the morning.
When she sat down in the chair, she pulled her legs up and tucked them beneath her, surveying the spread. She smiled, seeing tea, and poured some into the teacups for them.
“Would you like any juice?” Aegir asked, digging his jar of powdered lunula out.
Elspeth grimaced and shook her head. “Too sweet, but thank you.”
Filing the fact away, Aegir measured out his morning dose of lunula and dumped it into the tall glass of apple juice, stirring so that it was well mixed.
“What is that?” Elspeth asked, eyes huge and glued to the now dark glowing glass.
“Oh, it’s lunula, the algae that I use to shift. It tastes better in juice.”
“It looks so… strange,” she whispered, bending over to examine it closer.
“Absolutely. It doesn’t look like that normally, it just looks like any normal glowing algae, but when we powder it, we mix in charcoal so it’s not so obvious. After all, why would anyone have reason to bring powdered glowing algae with them?”
“Unless they want to change how they look every ten seconds, that is.”
“Exactly, and I’m not exactly keen on being the one that breaks the secret to the Empire.” Aegir stirred the glass and gulped most of it down.
Elspeth frowned, pursing her lips in thought. “Does it make anyone magical? What would happen if I drank it?”
“To my knowledge, and based on the non-humans who live in Sanctuary… nothing much would happen? Perhaps they are healthier, so it might make a good supplement, but no one there develops extra magic because of eating it all the time. The current theory is that humans are inherently non-magical, whereas everyone in the Empire is inherently magical. because we don’t have magic, we have, over generations of exposure, acquired it… or something. Whereas you all already have magic, so nothing really happens.”
“How odd. So humans have no magic at all—normally I mean.” She chewed on a piece of toast, chewing thoughtfully. “We’re the same that way then. We both need something outside of ourselves in order to do our magic.”
“I suppose we are then… I suppose we are.”
T hey left town on foot, but once they were well in the distance, Aegir nodded that Elspeth should follow him off the road. He undressed, shoved his clothing into the saddlebags, and then shifted into a centaur. Humanoid from the waist up, the rest of his body was a black horse, whose markings he always made sure mimicked his orca spots. 2
“I have other clothes for you as well.” Digging in his pack, he pulled out a more simple dress, that laced up the front with a long panel down the middle to cover her chemise. Her soft slippers were traded out for a pair of sturdy boots, and he smiled at the picture she presented. She’d been beautiful in a Lady’s fine attire, but something about this more casual wear suited her. She looked ready for adventure and that warmed a part of Aegir he wasn’t certain he was willing to examine too closely, yet.
“I noticed that touch can be bothersome for you. Do you have any experience riding?”
His mind skittered off into wondering if she had other riding experience, and he cleared his throat. Damned minds, they thought they could do whatever they wanted.
Having never ridden before, it took Elspeth a while to find the way she needed to move her body while riding. Aegir gave helpful tips, and he was doing what he could to compensate, even if he sometimes moved in ways that made it feel as if she were about to fall, only to place a careful hand out to right her and then immediately retract it.
After several hours, Aegir trotted off the path and into the forest. Elspeth on his back had been a distinct distraction and he needed a break from feeling her shift against him. It was obvious that certain touches caused a flood of bad memories, though she’d touched him freely all morning.
“Right then,” he said, stopping and kneeling so she could dismount. “We’ll begin your training.”
He pulled Aegir the Captain around him like a cloak. Allowing himself to slip into the familiar role. His no-nonsense attitude and pointed movements were well suited to this sort of training, and hopefully it would help him to focus.
As they’d previously discussed, he knew she would likely do best with a dagger, though she’d have several, if he had any say, hidden about her person.
First, he stepped her through a sequence of attacks, having her repeat it until sweat dripped down the sides of her face .
The familiar set allowed him to embody his Captain Aegir persona, calling out “centerline thrust, forehand thrust, backhand thrust,” from his own training memories with the Shades 3 . His own instructor, Jorund, had always influenced the character of Captain Aegir, but never was it more apparent than during training. “Step with the thrust,” he reminded as her form began to slip. He noted where she needed improvement and corrected, grateful for the distance that being the Captain granted. He could disconnect from his own emotions and drill her so she could complete the motions in her sleep.
When she was truly tired, Elspeth bent over, placing a hand on his arm. Her breaths came heavy and she didn’t seem to notice that she touched him. Aegir on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away. Her touch was hot and slightly slick from her exertion, and he was flooded with images of how she’d looked while practicing. He’d stuck to routine, and the guise of Captain Aegir had kept him in control, but with her hand on his arm, desire came crashing in.
His hair fell over his forehead from where he’d slicked it, as if it too was abandoning the persona in the wake of the heat that blazed through him. He couldn’t ruin this, he had no real idea what he wanted of Elspeth, and knew that part of his desire had to do with their bond. At that moment though, his desires dueled with one another. The desire to touch her, to caress each curve and worship each inch of her skin fought to quell the steadier desire to see her happy, safe, and at peace. The first would not get him the second, and in fact, it might be its very undoing.
So, harnessing the power of his lunula, he tamped down his desire, forcing blood from where it had been flooding to his cock to other places, and steadied his racing heart. He needed distance, the separation he could only get from a deep cover. So, he changed tactics.
“What did he look like, your brother’s captor?”
“I don’t know, an elf?” Elspeth was tired, he could see she was flagging, but he needed to make sure she could react appropriately under pressure.
“How tall was he?”
Elspeth held her hand uncertainly above her head.
“Right then, how tall is Feann, compared to you?”
With significantly more confidence, Elspeth indicated a few inches taller than she was.
“And the elf, close your eyes, and see if you can picture him standing next to Feann. ”
“He’s a few inches again, probably the difference between Feann and I?”
“Very good.” With a thought, Aegir tapped his lunula and extended his femur.
“Goodness, I don’t know if I will ever get used to that.”
‘You might. Now, what color was his hair?”
“A sort of reddish brown?”
“Texture?”
“Quite curly, to his shoulders.”
Aegir released his hair from his follicles and grew a short length that approximated what Elspeth had described. “How is this?”
“Perhaps a bit lighter, but otherwise good.”
He released that batch of follicles and regrew another. When she nodded, he extended his hair until it met his shoulders. “Skin tone?”
“Pale, and I think he might have had freckles.”
He emulated her description and she nodded.
“Onto the nose…” he prompted.
They spent the next thirty minutes on a well-honed refinement protocol that Aegir had developed. Many people were nervous when trying to describe someone they’d seen briefly, but he’d found that confronted with a visual, they could usually refine it into a good approximation. He often knew when he’d arrived at the correct shape or tone based on Elspeth’s reaction alone. When she gasped and stepped back, he knew that they were likely close enough to practice. Her pulse fluttered like a bird in her neck, his hunter's senses focusing on it immediately. No, he needed to calm her. This wasn’t delicious playful fear, this was real fear, visceral fear. She needed to learn to control it, yes, but in order to do that, she needed to remember that she wasn’t in any real danger.
“Good, good.” He flashed his eyes back to his own dark brown. “I’m still me, Ellie. It’s still me in here.”
Her eyes, which had previously darted around, locked on his. Her rapid pulse slowed a bit, though she was obviously still agitated.
“I’m going to grab you, and you try to break my hold.”
Elspeth whimpered and it damn near broke his heart. “Ellie, how good is your sense of smell?”
“I don’t know, normal?”
“Alright, fair, let me rephrase, if you close your eyes, can you smell me?”
“I can smell you without them closed, too…”
“Of course, sorry. What if you tried closing your eyes and focusing on my scent? It might help. ”
She closed her eyes, following his suggestion, and he was overcome with pride. She did it immediately, and he couldn’t be more honored or grateful. Thank the Lady she had her eyes closed because he surely looked an idiot.
“Did it help?” he asked. He cleared his throat, surprised that it was thick with emotion.
“Yes.”
“When you feel more calm, can you see if you can open your eyes for me?”
Elspeth nodded, and it took a few moments, but eventually her eyes fluttered open, first wide with shock, but then calming as she held his gaze.
“You can do this, Ellie, I promise.”
“I can do this.” She didn’t sound entirely sure of the fact, but he was glad she seemed willing to try.
“Good girl. When you are ready, you can turn around and then I will grab you, like we practiced.”
Elspeth took a deep breath and pivoted. In some ways, her lack of training would come in handy. She didn’t move like a fighter, and their entire plan relied on their foe underestimating her. When he restrained her, she struggled to implement their plan at first, but after an hour's practice, she was extricating and faux stabbing him quickly .
“Perfect.”
She punched him soundly under his ribcage, driving her knuckles up toward where she’d stab his heart.
“I think you are ready to stab me for real,” he said.
“What?” Elspeth squeaked. “I’m not going to stab you!”
“I won’t make you, but I think you should. It’s very different and a lot of first timers lose their nerve when they feel resistance.”
“Resistance?” she was nearly screaming, and her eyes were wide.
“Skin, clothing, muscle, fat, they all cause resistance.”
“I think I might sick up.”
“If you need to, but you really should just try stabbing me…”
She gave him the cutest frown and punched him again, her placement honed to perfection. He gave her his dagger then, wrapping it in her shaking hand with his. He moved to take his hand away, but she stilled him.
“Stay?” she asked. She was scared, his siren, but determined. He might not look himself, but he could see in her eyes that she needed him, and in that moment, she needed his reassuring touch more than she feared it. So, he led her through the motion, flipping the dagger away at the last moment each time, so she didn’t actually stab him… yet.
After they'd repeated it several times, her shaking slowed, and Aegir felt her begin to lead rather than follow. "The more times you repeat it, the more second nature it will become.”
"Like tying nets," Elspeth said, as if as an afterthought.
"Like tying nets." He shifted his grip on her hand. "Now, all you need to do is—"
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she interrupted.
“Hurt me, Elspeth. I’m asking for it. I’m giving you permission. You will hurt me, but I’ll always come back for more.”
Before Elspeth could tense up again, he flipped his hand quickly and drove the knife up under his ribs and through his heart. It was easy for him to miss his lungs so he could speak, but he had no delusions that it would be the same when Elspeth repeated the process without him.
Elspeth's mouth hung open, but he smiled to reassure her.
Though he had turned off all nerves in and around his heart, Aegir could still feel the knife as it entered his chest via his hand. He felt the resistance of his skin, and then his muscle, then the thicker muscle of his heart as it resisted their intrusion. He felt the shake, the shock, in Elspeth's hand as he moved her to pierce him, and the sudden stillness as she realized what had happened. In the silence that followed, he questioned. Had he moved too quickly? Had he pushed too far? Was this the moment when Elspeth would pull away?
His own health was of secondary, or perhaps even less, concern. As he was ridiculously well versed in shifting and healing his body, the process began and ended without conscious thought. Eventually, he should wait until after she’d removed the dagger, to teach her what she should expect, blood wise, but for the first time, it likely wasn’t necessary.
“You—I—” Elspeth stammered, her hand shaking around the hilt once more. “We did it.” Her voice held an awe that spoke of disbelief rather than reverence.
“You did.” He reassured. “And I am just fine, though I promise he will not be. Can you try again? This time on your own?”
Aegir pressed her, knowing that if he gave her time, she’d likely think too deeply about the action. Several long blinks later, Elspeth nodded. She pulled the knife from his chest with a sucking sound, and squared her shoulders.
“It does help that you look like him,” she whispered .
“Good.”
After several repetitions, she’d gotten the hang of it, repeating the motion smoothly, and he stopped their lessons for the day. He’d asked a lot of her, pushed her hard, and he figured it would be best to let that sink in.
Over the course of their journey, Elspeth told the story of the day that she and her brother had been kidnapped, and though she was vague on specifics, he grew to understand some of what she’d endured during her captivity. Though her pelt was not often visible, it was rarely far from her person.
She often wore it tucked around her shoulders, hidden under a cloak, or folded neatly in a bundle she could keep on her pack, her hand straying frequently to touch it. After a few days, she began touching him casually, though almost always over clothing. The faint scent of her arousal plagued him each evening when they settled in for sleep. Though he never pressed it, instead enjoying how she warmed to him, and the way it would flare when she grew bold enough to place a hesitant hand on his.
For one as experienced as he, such chaste touches should have quickly become mundane, a tantalizing overture that quickly fizzled out to become commonplace. Instead, each time she touched him was a victory. Each one became a momentous occasion that made him want to crow with joy. After all she’d experienced, she was choosing to engage with him. Instead of habituating to the touches, he only craved more.
1. Generally speaking, the first time Aegir learns a face or disguise, he prefers to have a mirror to check. However, because he makes changes to his DNA usually based on a specific individual, he doesn’t require one. For frequent disguises, he has them all memorized.
2. When possible, Aegir mimics his orca coloring where he can.
3. Strictly speaking, all adults who live in Sanctuary are members of an organization called the Shades. This organization is who employs Aegir, specifically the subset of their guard.