Twenty Years Later
Vale’s work was done for the day.
He retreated to their nest, his gait slow and relaxed as he approached the gauzy shelter that Ivy had constructed over it so long ago. Ivy claimed it was called a “tent,” formed for the purpose of privacy. They could not have the assistants seeing them in the throes of pleasure, after all.
A strand of ivy pulled the thin tent door aside for him. At first, Ivy worried about her namesake plant populating his void. But it did not act as it did in the mortal realm. This ivy did not strangle or constrain. It simply existed, lining the void with beauty.
“Thank you,” Vale told the plant that pulled the tent door open. He gave its leaves a brief stroke. The plant sent him a throb of joy, and Vale smiled and sent one straight back.
His queen’s voice echoed from the depths of the tent, “Vale! I need your hands!”
“I am coming,” he replied. He gave the vine another fond stroke, then headed inside the tent.
Ivy sat on the far end, perched in front of a mirror and humming while gathering her dark red hair with both hands.
“There you are,” she said. “Do you mind?”
She held up her hair, which had grown more with each year she spent in the void. Nowadays it fell to her ankles. Braiding it was no longer something she could do by herself and required more than one single braid wrapped around her head to get her hair out of the way.
Vale took her hair and sorted it into sections, retracting his claws as he went through the familiar motions.
Despite its length, her hair never tangled.
Never caught or teared, no matter how many bone thickets she trudged into or teeth lilies she weeded.
The wilderness void cared for its queen almost as thoroughly as its king.
Vale twisted her hair together in slow, practiced motions. When he started braiding her hair, he had done it quickly, as he had done all things. It had taken him years to halt the habit. Some things were meant to be savored.
“Harrier left this morning,” Ivy told him.
Vale frowned. “That was this morning? Why did he not say goodbye?”
“He did! You were concentrating on drying the nightbeast hide. We decided it was best to leave you to it.” Ivy smiled at him in the mirror, her rosy cheeks radiant as ever.
“He will be back in the spring. But we should find a new assistant while he’s gone.
He mentioned he had someone in town who might be interested, but it depended on how that woman’s mother was faring. ”
Vale growled absentmindedly as he wound her hair together. “I could always demand an offering,” he joked.
“One offering was enough,” Ivy said, her eyes glinting merrily.
Something chirped behind them. Vale looked in the mirror and saw a light-mote drifting toward them, glowing brighter than usual.
The light-motes had returned by the dozen as soon as the void had been healed. According to Ivy, who heard the wilderness void clearer than Vale ever did, they were fed by his joy. Once that vanished, so did they.
It was a confounding realization. Vale had always thought that he had grown tired of the work after the light-motes died. That was when his workload increased, after all. But the truth was, he had tired of the work long before he was left on his own.
Vale insisted it was because he needed variety. Ivy insisted it was because he longed for someone to share himself with. Privately, Vale believed her theory much more than his own.
And yet, his life was much more different with Ivy at his side. He no longer spent all his time in his void, and he spoke to many more beings than he used to, even before the light-motes left.
“Cxt’va,” Vale said as the light-mote drifted closer. “What news?”
Cxt’va trilled.
Vale sighed. “Again? I will handle this. After I finish this braid.”
“He will not,” Ivy told the light-mote. She turned, taking care not to pull her hair from Vale’s grip. “Cxt’va, thank you for coming to us. But I’m sure Geraldine can help you lift that log out of the way.”
Cxt’va trilled again, rotating worriedly.
“She is absolutely strong enough,” Ivy declared. “Have you seen her arms since she returned? She had been cutting wood all winter! She could lift Vale if she wanted!”
Cxt’va spun an anxious circle. Then it made a decisive hum and flitted out of the tent, off to find one of their several mortal assistants.
Ivy turned back and met Vale’s glowing eyes in their reflection. “Was it always that anxious?”
“Always,” Vale said, not unkindly. He had not remembered how fond he was of his annoying brood of light-motes until they rushed back into his life.
He tied the braid off. Ivy’s long crimson hair hung in a thick braid to her waist. She made to stand up, but Vale stopped her.
“Not yet,” he told her.
He took the last handful he’d left loose and braided it quickly. Then he tied it around her head, pinning it into place with a bone-pin the void had gifted her two decades ago: one of its many wedding gifts.
Ivy laughed, touching her makeshift crown. She rarely wore her hair like this since it grew too long for all of it to fit on her head.
“What is this for?” she asked. “Is it a special occasion?”
“Does it need to be a special occasion to give my queen her crown?” Vale replied. He kissed her hair, pushing one last strand of crimson hair into place as he grew his claws back out.
Ivy’s gaze caught on his claws. Her eyes were hungry, and Vale’s tail flicked in anticipation.
Ivy stepped toward the nest in the center of the tent. But she did not climb into it yet.
“How are the rib-thickets?” she asked.
“They are content.”
Ivy nodded, running her fingers over the fur lining the nest. “And the root-deer?”
“The herd is thriving,” Vale said. He walked behind her, catching her in his arms. “The void is well. There is nothing that must be done.”
Ivy shifted happily in his grip. When Vale ran a hand down her braid, she leaned into his touch. But she did not turn in his arms.
“We need to find another assistant,” she pointed out.
“We also need to see the new crop of shadow trees in my brother’s void,” Vale said. “It is not urgent. Why do you tease me so?”
“Because it’s fun,” Ivy said sweetly.
She turned in his arms, finally. Vale placed a claw under her soft chin and let the love into his expression. She had not delayed him because she found it fun, as she claimed. At least, not entirely. She had done it because she wanted to feel desired.
Vale stroked her cheeks, pressing his claws gently against her plush skin. “My strange gift. How glad I am that you were given to me.”
“Thank you for keeping me,” she replied, as she always did.
Vale kissed her deeply. His fangs nicked her lip, and Ivy murmured her appreciation as he sucked on the small spark of pain.
“We have time before we must leave to find another assistant,” Vale said, rubbing his thumb over her bloodied lip. “We could find a heatbloom.”
On cue, a heatbloom plant rose out of the dirt between them. A rose bloomed with it, ivy twining up the rose’s stalk and then curling around her finger.
Ivy laughed, curling her finger to greet the plant. Then she looked up at Vale expectantly.
“Weren’t you the one,” she began. “Who said there is always more work to do?”
“There is,” Vale said. “But it is being taken care of.”
“Not all of it.” Ivy tugged at the makeshift crown around her head, as if thinking of the responsibilities it held. “If I get lust-pollened, I’ll be useless for days.”
“You do not need to be useful,” Vale reminded her. “You only need to be you.”
Ivy’s eyes went shiny. She kissed him again, and Vale licked the blood left on her lip.
“In that case,” Ivy said as she pulled back. She raised her head toward the tent ceiling, her eyes flashing void-green. “Don’t let anyone in the tent unless the sky is crumbling!”
The tent rippled in a nonexistent breeze, confirming its response.
“Thank you,” said Ivy sweetly.
She ran her hand over the heatbloom between them. Then she dug her finger into the center.
Golden pollen poured out from the petals, filling the tent. Ivy giggled as it coated her skin and covered the braid that Vale had so carefully tied into her hair.
Vale waited intently. Sure enough, Ivy’s breath began to pick up, her pupils swelling. The scent of her desire consumed the tent as readily as the pollen, making Vale growl and dig his claws into her hips.
Ivy gasped, her eyelids fluttering as his claws drew the slightest amount of blood. She grabbed his antlers, frenzied in a way they had not experienced since the last time they had done this. They tried to limit their pollen doses to twice a year. But sometimes they got impatient.
Vale threw her into their nest and climbed on top of her, chuckling as Ivy tore at his robes.
“Off,” Ivy gasped. “Take them off!”
“Anything for my queen,” Vale said.
He shed his robes. Then he dragged a claw down her dress, which changed depending on her mood. Today’s was a short, breezy pink, and it parted under Vale’s claw like any other.
Ivy made a desperate noise and grabbed for him.
Vale held her down, enjoying how she squirmed against his touch.
He had been numb to his own desire for so long.
Then this mortal had come into his life, and he could ignore it no longer, no matter how much he tried to resist. He was not an emotionless beast built to perform tasks.
He was an animal with animal needs: hunger, sleep, lust, and a love so deep he could barely contain it.
“Not yet,” Vale said. “Are you not forgetting something?”
Ivy frowned. Then her mouth dropped open, twisting to watch two strong ropes of ivy knot around her wrists and bind them into the nest.
“Oh,” Ivy gasped.
“There is more,” Vale assured her.
Ivy looked down and groaned as she saw the large, bulbous vine that was sliding up her thigh. It was not wet, but that did not matter. Ivy was slick enough for all of them. And if she was not, the magic would make it fit painlessly.
Hence why Vale dug his claws into her hips, drawing the smallest amount of blood.
Ivy moaned, bucking up against him as the plants held her down. “Vale! Gods, I need it.”
“You will have us both,” Vale assured her. “Which hole would you like us to fill, my queen?”
Ivy grinned up at him, her cheeks dark red. “Both.”
“As you wish,” Vale growled.
The vine entered her ass. Ivy’s mouth opened on an ecstatic cry. But still her legs opened wider, waiting.
Vale pushed inside her other hole. The stretch was exquisite, even with the magic easing the way. He rocked deeper, feeling the vine do the same in her lower hole.
Ivy moaned. A petal brushed Vale’s antler, and he looked up.
Roses were growing from the tent ceiling. He laughed and thrust deeper still.
Ivy whimpered. “I love you so much.”
“Always,” Vale assured her.
He leaned down and kissed her. Then he leaned back to watch the petals rain down on his wife’s gorgeous, pollen-dusted body, and mated her until the entire void was awash with blooms.