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INTRODUCTION
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If you've read my other work you will find this to be a bit of a departure. This is a novel-length work set in the fantasy genre. It is categorized as incest because all sex scenes are between family members.
Incest in this setting is not precisely taboo but nor is it wholly accepted. Nobles (or Purebloods) are expected to practice it to maintain the magical power of their lineage but even then the common folk regard it as not quite right. The drama here comes from politics and how personal things can get when your closest lovers are your sisters and mother and your romantic rivals could include brother, uncle, or possibly even your father.
This will be regularly updated. While I cannot control the speed of approvals, I will be submitting at least one part every two weeks, and I have created a buffer in case real life interferes with this schedule. By the time you read the first part, the next two will be written. The final result should take around nine parts and 90,000 words to complete. My writing strategy is designed to prevent the completely understandable issues that afflict the plans of writers when real life causes delays. Hopefully I will be able to avoid frustrating my readers.
Some content notes follow so no one is surprised by things that they aren't interested in or that might cause distress. I wrote this for the enjoyment of myself and my readers and I never wish to cause discomfort.
-All participants in sexual acts are eighteen or over.
-There are definitely erotic scenes throughout (about one per part) but they happen when appropriate and natural for the story, and maybe not often enough for everyone.
-This story features one male main character with multiple female partners, all of whom are close kin. The relationships are still based on love but I understand that some prefer monogamy in their erotica.
-There are depictions of war and violence. They're not particularly gruesome, but they are there.
-Physical abuse is described in at least one scene.
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PROLOGUE
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When I saw the riders I knew I was fucked.
I was just moving out of the high desert of the Wastes. My horse had died three days ago and I missed him. He was probably my best friend, but also the going was slow. I was starting to see stands of pine and the terrain was changing to rolling foothills. There was less stone and dirt and more grass. Well, dead grass, anyway. It was the end of summer out here, and it was beginning to freeze at night. I hadn't felt warm in weeks.
I gripped my spear slightly harder as I heard the faint hoofbeats on stone. When I looked up I cursed myself. How had I not sensed them sooner? They certainly weren't being stealthy. They weren't rushing, but moving at a steady rate. Their scouts must have seen me, so they knew I wouldn't be able to outrun them.
I briefly considered altering my path and breaking east or west up one of the foothills, but distance was deceptive, and they weren't really steep enough yet to dissuade horse-bound pursuit. No. It was better to save my strength and wait.
The last of my hope disappeared as I began to distinguish them clearly. There were twenty or thirty, all armed. Too many for a patrol, no evidence of cargo or carts for a caravan. I recognized the banner. They were elite light cavalry. Men I had trained with, possibly.
Well, today they were killers sent by my father, so I would have to fight. Surrender would not gain me my life, but might prolong my death. Better to die with a little dignity, maybe kill half of them. If I couldn't have the life or people that I wanted, then I could at least leave a story people told ruefully around campfires.
I drew upon the life of the air, and made it unstable around me. It was simple and crude, but no arrow would strike me through that. I wanted them to have to come close. To come within range of my spear and my magic. Both were lethal.
They came closer and slowed down. No one made a move to dismount, nor were any weapons drawn. I took my pack off and rotated my shoulders. I was stiff from all this goddamn cold and walking. People who tell stories about adventure usually skip the cold and the walking. I can tell you it makes up a good portion of my life, now.
I took my stance, feet far apart, right side towards my enemies. Spear held lightly in two hands. It wasn't the best position for everyone, but experience had taught me that it was ideal for reacting quickly.
The lead horse rode out a little way and the rider took off her helm. I was not surprised to find that I knew her well.
"Kyrza. Its been a while," I said, smiling despite myself. We were going to try and kill each other shortly but it was good to see a familiar face. "You look well."
"It's Captain Kyrza now, Anprionsa Finn."
She used my formal title. She didn't have to, anymore. No one did. It was a kindness, showing me respect at the end.
"Good for you. I'm sorry that I'm going to kill you."
She smiled and laughed. I could forgive her this, she outnumbered me by at least thirty to one. But I knew their strategies. They would have one, maybe two mages. Enough to prevent me from doing anything particularly slow or spectacular, but I could still fight with quick invocations. I was never known for my power back at Marche Grodayn, so they would think that enough. Times had changed.
I had been killing with magic now for years. I had found that fear, sorrow, and rage were excellent teachers. As we spoke I tried to figure out how many I could kill with lightning before any could close with me. Kyrza was their leader, and probably the best with sword or horse, so she would die first, regrettably. Hard situations made for hard choices.
