{Lys}
Lys's body finally felt cooperative enough to get her ass out of bed. The birthing process had left her sore in places she'd forgotten existed, but the ven recovered quickly—one of many perks of having magic literally flowing through your veins.
She padded across the room's smooth wooden floor, its planks polished to a warm glow from generations of bare feet. The sunlight streamed through leaf-woven windows, landing on the intricately carved crib where her day-old daughter lay.
Ari. Their little miracle.
Lys peered into the crib, her long green hair cascading forward. The baby girl looked back with eyes too alert, too focused for a newborn. Quiet, too. Most ven babies screamed their arrival to the world and kept announcing their presence for weeks. Not Ari. She'd been watching. Observing.
"You're a strange little thing," Lys whispered with a smile, stroking the baby's cheek. "Got secrets already, do you?"
Ari blinked, which Lys decided to interpret as confirmation.
The smell of cooking food pulled Lys's attention away. Roasted root vegetables with that spice blend her wife insisted on putting on absolutely everything. She turned to see Alma at the cooking pit, her massive back muscles flexing as she stirred the pot. The loincloth she wore did absolutely nothing to hide the impressive cock swinging between her thighs as she moved.
Lys grinned. She'd definitely married the most hung ven in the village, a fact that never failed to spark pride and a familiar tingle between her legs. And, well, Ari was proof that Alma had put that lethal weapon of hers to good use.
"Should you be up?" Alma asked without turning around, somehow sensing Lys's movement. "The priestesses said—"
"The priestesses can suck my dick," Lys replied, crossing the room. "I'm tired of lying around. My pussy isn't made of glass."
"Your pussy just pushed out a baby."
"And it'll recover faster if I move around." Lys pressed herself against Alma's back, wrapping her arms around her wife's waist. Even after giving birth, she couldn't resist the pleasure of skin contact. "Besides, I'm just going for a short walk through the village."
Alma grunted, which after seven years together Lys recognized as reluctant agreement.
"You and your mother are both stubborn as fuck," Alma muttered toward the crib.
"That's why you love me," Lys replied, dropping to her knees behind Alma. She placed a kiss directly on Alma's firm butt.
"What are you doing?" Alma squeaked, her whole body tensing.
Lys laughed. Seven years, countless bedroom adventures involving every orifice and position imaginable, and just a little bit of teasing still made her warrior wife blush like a virgin.
"Just saying good morning to my favorite ass in Synerrha," Lys said, giving it a little pat as she stood. "I won't be long. Try not to burn lunch."
Alma nodded, her face still flushed.
"Don't overdo it."
"You know me."
"That's why I'm worried."
Lys stuck out her tongue, grabbed a light silk wrap to drape loosely around her body—more for the slight morning chill than modesty—and slipped out the door.
The village hummed with morning activity. Ven of all ages moved through the worn dirt paths between dwellings, carrying baskets of freshly harvested fruits, hauling water, or simply lounging in groups sharing gossip. Several homes had their doors wide open, moans of pleasure drifting out unashamedly. Morning sex was as much a part of ven breakfast as berries and bread.
"Lys!" A chorus of voices greeted her as she made her way through the central square. Several villagers hurried over, hands reaching to touch her shoulders, arms, belly—casual connections that carried wordless blessings.
"Should you be up already?" asked Mira, a young hunter whose lithe body bore intricate tattoos mapping her kills.
"That's what Alma said," Lys replied with a shrug. "But my cunt and I have reached an understanding. I don't ignore it when it wants attention, and it doesn't keep me bedridden longer than necessary."
The gathered ven laughed, the sound like wind chimes in the breeze.
"How's the little one?" asked Elder Paran, her wrinkled face creasing further with her smile.
"Quiet. Watchful. Not at all like me as a baby, if Mother's stories are to be believed."
"Special, then," Paran nodded. "Just as the signs foretold."
Lys rolled her eyes.
"Don't start with your prophecies, Paran. She's a day old. The only thing she's destined for right now is shitting and sleeping."
More laughter, though Paran's knowing smile remained. Lys made a mental note to ask later what "signs" the elder was talking about. Right now, she had someone specific she wanted to see.
She found Tara at the village's edge, perched on a fallen log that served as a natural bench overlooking the valley below. Like most ven, Tara wore minimal clothing—just a series of beaded strings wrapped around her hips that emphasized rather than concealed the cock nestled against her thigh.
"If it isn't the new mother," Tara said without turning around. "Shouldn't you be flat on your back getting waited on?"
"I spent nine months getting bigger than a Mother Tree," Lys replied, settling beside her friend. "I'm done being stationary."
Tara turned, her eyes bright with mischief.
"How's the baby? I heard she came out with horns and a tail."
"You're thinking of your own birth," Lys nudged her with a shoulder. "Ari's perfect. Suspiciously quiet, I must say, but perfect."
"And how's that wife of yours handling fatherhood?"
Lys scoffed light-heartedly. Of course, they meant that figuratively, not literally. All ven had the equipment necessary to impregnate, after all.
"She's terrified. Keeps looking at Ari like she might accidentally break her."
"To be fair, Alma once crushed a boulder with her bare hands," Tara pointed out. "And your daughter presumably has softer bones than a boulder."
"True. But she's gentler than people realize."
Tara snorted.
"Tell that to Miko's ass. She couldn't walk straight for three days after Alma was done with her at the last festival."
"That's different," Lys laughed. "Miko literally begged for it. She's been chasing Alma's cock since we got together."
"Can you blame her? Your wife is hung like a forest spirit."
"I know," Lys couldn't keep the pride from her voice. "Why do you think I married her?"
After a few more laughs, they fell into comfortable silence, watching the distant treetops sway. Below them, the vast expanse of the Verdant stretched in waves of emerald and jade, broken occasionally by the silver thread of a river or the multicolored roofs of another ven settlement.
"Heard anything new about the God-King?" Lys finally asked, her voice dropping. Everyone knew that name shouldn't be spoken too loudly, as if the mere sound might draw his attention.
Tara's face darkened.
"Another village gone. Eastriver. Traders brought word yesterday while you were busy pushing out your spawn."
Lys felt her heart sink.
"Eastriver? That's only three days' journey from here."
"Two, if you're riding one of those metal beasts his soldiers use." Tara picked at the bark of the log. "They say they're building some kind of outpost there. One of those black towers that belch smoke."
"Shit." Lys looked out at the peaceful valley with new eyes, suddenly seeing its vulnerability. "What about the Mother Tree there?"
"Dead. Poisoned or cut down, the reports vary. But the sickness in the neighboring groves is the same we've been hearing about everywhere his shadow falls."
The Mother Trees were the heart of ven culture, ancient beings that connected their villages to the spirit world and channeled the magic that flowed through their people. And, lately, they'd been getting sick.
Lys wasn't too sure if she believed the rumors that the God-King himself was killing them. To kill one was unthinkable. But, if he was somehow manifesting their sickness, getting them to rot on their own... well, what was the difference?
"Have the Elders said anything?"
Tara shook her head.
"They're still debating. Half want to send emissaries to negotiate, half want to flee."
"Both terrible ideas," Lys muttered. "This isn't a force that negotiates, and there's nowhere to hide if he's determined to find us."
"You sound like you have a better plan."
"I don't. Not yet." Lys sighed, resting a hand on her still-tender abdomen. "But I'm not letting Ari grow up in a world where she has to hide what she is."
Tara reached over, squeezing Lys's knee.
"Listen to you, all maternal and fierce already. Motherhood suits you."
"Fuck off," Lys grinned, but the compliment warmed her. "Want to come back to the hut? I'm starving, and Alma was cooking something that... didn't smell half bad."
"Free food? I'm in."
They were still twenty paces from Lys's home when they heard it—the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by moans and grunts. Lys's wooden door was wide open, giving them a perfect view of what was happening inside.
Alma stood naked beside the table, her muscular body glistening with sweat. Bent over in front of her was Sylvia, one of the village's weavers, her face contorted in pleasure as Alma's impressive cock pounded her ass relentlessly.
"Spirits save me—right there—YES!" Sylvia cried out, her knuckles white as she gripped the table edge.
Lys and Tara looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"... I leave for one fucking hour," Lys said, walking through the doorway.
Alma's head snapped up, but her hips didn't miss a beat.
"You're back!" She smiled, completely unabashed. "Sylvia came by with that blanket for Ari we ordered."
"Oh, I can see she came by, alright," Lys replied dryly. "Hello, Sylvia."
"Hi—oh FUCK—Lys," Sylvia managed between thrusts. "Beautiful—nnngh—baby. Left the—AH—blanket by the—GODS YES—crib."
"Yes, yes, very thoughtful of you," Lys said, checking on Ari, who was, impossibly, still sleeping peacefully despite the sexual symphony happening like five feet away. The blanket was indeed there, beautifully woven with patterns of leaves and flowers.
Tara leaned against the doorframe, openly admiring the show.
"Don't stop on our account."
"Wasn't planning to," Alma grunted, her rhythm increasing. "Almost—"
"Don't you dare finish before me," Sylvia warned, reaching between her legs to rub herself frantically.
Lys shook her head, stepping behind her wife and delivering a sharp smack to her ass. Alma yelped, her thrusts faltering momentarily.
"When you two are done," Lys said, "I'd like to actually eat something. Pushing out a new life makes a girl hungry."
"Won't be—FUCK—long," Sylvia gasped, her body beginning to tremble.
Lys exchanged an amused glance with Tara as they moved to the far side of the room, settling on cushions near the cooking pit.
"And to think," Tara whispered, "in the God-King's lands, they cover their bodies and only fuck in private."
"Barbarians," Lys replied absent-mindedly, ladling stew into two bowls. "What's the point of having a cock or a cunt if you can't enjoy them whenever the mood strikes?"
Behind them, Sylvia let out a final, shuddering cry, her orgasm triggering Alma's, who groaned deeply as she climaxed. A moment later, both women were disentangling, Sylvia's legs wobbly as she straightened up.
"Thanks for that," Sylvia said, kissing Alma's cheek like she'd just been handed a cup of tea. "Been needing a good ass-fucking all week."
"Anytime," Alma replied. "Your husband still traveling?"
"Three more days. You know how traders are." Sylvia quickly wiped herself clean with a damp cloth before readjusting the minimal wrap around her hips. "Thanks for the blanket, Lys. It'll keep Ari warm when the cool season comes."
"It's beautiful. Thank you."
With a cheerful wave, Sylvia departed, hips swaying as she walked back into the village, not bothering to hide the evidence of what she'd just been doing.
Alma washed her hands and cock in a water basin before joining Lys and Tara at the meal.
"Sorry about that," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "She seemed tense."
"You're such a humanitarian," Lys teased. "Always thinking of others."
"I try," Alma replied with a straight face, then broke into a wide grin. "What? It's not like you don't fool around when I'm out hunting."
"True enough," Lys admitted. "Last week I had both the honey collectors in our bed. Simultaneously."
"The twins? Nice," Alma nodded approvingly. "They're very... flexible."
Tara looked between them, shaking her head. "You two are disgustingly perfect for each other."
The baby made a small sound from her crib, and all three ven instantly turned their attention that way. Ari was awake, her eyes tracking the ceiling patterns made by sunlight filtering through the leaf roof.
"She still hasn't cried," Lys said, a hint of wonder in her voice. "Not once since she was born."
"Strange child," Tara commented. "Special, like Paran said."
Alma frowned. "What's Paran been saying now?"
"Oh, you know her," Lys waved dismissively. "Always seeing signs and portents. Probably just trying to seem important."
But as they settled into their meal, the conversation turning to village gossip and jokes, Lys couldn't help glancing repeatedly at the quiet, watchful baby in the crib.
There was something there, in her eyes. Something different, something...
Knowing.