There is no God

My temper was rising. My bones were going to be sore upon my arrival to the Hearthgarden. That was going to look good. I sighed, trying to relax, but another pothole later I stuck my head out of the carriage and cried out:

"Halt!"

We stopped and I got out.

"Milord, do not worry about..." tried my squire, who had been standing at the back of the carriage. "Shut up. I'll ride there. You will meet me with the carriage."

I straddled my horse, Herev, a mighty stallion that had been almost all of my battles. I kicked him up and he rode down the path, jumping over puddles, working my calves and legs to a burn.

We arrived at the castle, a towering grey stone monster that gave me a powerful, dominant feeling. I was greeted by slaves and servants who unpacked my belongings and brought them into the hall. I entered the main entrance and heard a great voice from across the long archway of stone, marble and polished maroon wood.

"Ha! Ha! Look at your puny self, strutting in here thinking yourself so great and pompous like usual."

Down the hall walked my brother. He was much more than I, in bulk. He was six feet, five inches, his shoulders twice my width and his weight probably in the greater two hundreds of mostly muscle, but also fat. He had a large red beard and long auburn hair braided down his back. No one messed with him, not that they messed with me either. I wasn't as small as he thought I was. I was in the lower two-hundred, all muscle. I had inherited our father's brown hair, that I kept short, and mine curled a bit more.

"You greet me with much love. I appreciate it, brother."

His name was Balimund, and had the noble title now of our recently deceased father: Marquis. He hated having to serve the people who had been under my father, but we couldn't admit that we knew it was one day going to happen.

He grabbed me and embraced me violently, his green Scottish eyes working my insides nostalgically.

"You've come at the time. The Duke of Pryce is harassing me."

"Because of our heritance that he is unable to touch?"

"Precisely. Come, let us eat something."

He brought me to the dining hall, which was as ridiculous prestigious as the hallways. A large fire danced and wavered a powerful elemental maelstrom, all the while being contained to its granite casket in the wall. We sat and he told his attendants to fetch his children. His wife had died birthing his last child, who was now eleven years of age.

His two elder sons came in, Marcus and Henry. Marcus was the heir, probably sixteen now, with his late mother's light blond hair. Henry was the second-born, flame-capped like his father. I think he was going to be fourteen. Then, there had been flaxen-weave Iris, born in the same year as Henry, who was going to be fourteen in December. The youngest, brown-locked like none other than myself, slowly dragged herself in the hall, pouting. She saw me, but could not have cared any more for my presence.

"Uncle Victor!" said the first three, upon seeing me.

They ran to me, only Corrine didn't. She sat down and sulked on her chair, her arms folded, looking straight ahead. I kissed my niece and nephews, and answered a few of their questions. We sat down finally and ate.

I devoured young tender piglet and lamb chops in milk sauce, and they were rich, and delicious. I drank much wine, as much as my brother, however, he could hold his liquor far better than I, and by the time desert came, I was already laughing the wits out of myself. The children were shaking their heads at me, only Marcus did have a few questions concerning battle. I sobered up enough to tell him of the ecstasy of war, of bloodshed. It was probably all rambling; I wasn't half-there anyway. Balimund didn't seem to mind that I was teaching him a thing or two.

"Father... can I be excused?" asked Iris, sighing and standing up.

"You may. Kiss your uncle good-night."

She nodded and went over to me. I puckered and was surprised when she pressed those silken lips, sweet like honey and treacle, over my own. She pushed even, her weight into my mouth, and my eyes flew open in drunken stupor as she pulled away, her visage looking stoic as if nothing had happened.

"Wha-?" I tried to ask, but I was questioned some more, by Marcus, who seemed ever so keen to know more about battle.

It bothered me nonetheless, and I tried to grab my brother's attention, but he did not look at me. No one had noticed this but me! Maybe I was too drunk and I have imagined that my niece had practically given me a real full-on kiss.

After desert and a bit more wine, I wobbled out of my chair and decided it would a good idea to take some fresh air. Bali tried to speak to me, and I wanted to mention the kiss, but each time I opened my mouth, I was too afraid to vomit instead of speak.

He left me on the hallway that was open to the night air with arched, empty window frames. Down below was a garden, and mysteriously, glowing in between the shrubbery were small lights. They weren't dancing, although they might as well could have been, I was so drunk. I breathed in, sobered up a bit more and skillfully made my way down a long spiralling staircase. The moonlight was out, at least, so I could make my way toward the lights without tripping on some tall grass.

The lights came closer, no... I was moving closer, my jelly-boned legs bringing me to them. As I drew nearer, I saw a net-like thing holding a person. My eyes focused and I realized it was Iris. I recognized her blonde hair that moved down her chest. She... she was completely nude. I couldn't believe it! Surely, I was dreaming! I still couldn't talk, so I just stood there and stared at her.

She was a beautiful youth, I had to admit it. She had fair skin that looked flawless in the illumination of what I saw now were garden torches. She was reading a book, her eyes looking down at the pages, her hair flowing like a wave of golden fleece, ever-precious to one holy man.

I made one move and she looked up and saw me. She smiled, but also rolled her eyes at me.

"Uncle Victor," she voiced. "What brings you down here? You're completely drunk."

She got out of her suspended bed of intricate knots and walked over to me. I stumbled back and fell over, my eyes searching for hers and only seeing her small breasts with puffed coral nipples and her bare, youthful pubis.

"Get some clothes on, Iris," I managed to say without upchucking.

"Oh... you mind me?"

What to answer? Yes, I minded!

"Why do you mind me? Men love seeing girls in the nude, don't they?"

"I..." I frowned and stood up, and turned away. "You're acting like a harlot. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Ashamed of this body our Lord gave me?"

"Your mother and father gave you this body that has come from a lifetime's worth of evolution. Don't bring ghosts and ghouls into this conversation."

She gasped. "You're... does Father know that you're..."

"Get some clothes on. You're lucky I'm drunk."

"How so?"

I didn't answer that, but I did want to teach her a lesson. Maybe it was good that I was drunk, actually. I would blame it on my drunkenness. I turned to her again and smirked, biting my lower lip as I did so. I reached for my belt and undid it. She looked at me do this and her face fell. I removed it from my trousers.

"Show me how to sit on this thing," I commanded her, despite my drunken state. I was an army lieutenant nonetheless.

She trembled and quietly spoke: "Uncle Victor, I... what are you doing?"

"Teaching you something."

"I think I should leave now."

"I think you should show me how to sit on this thing."

"You just sit on it." I did so.

"Come here." I waved her over to my lap.

Holding her arm, she tiptoed toward me and I grabbed her and she squealed as I spread her over my thighs, her behind aiming toward the right. I curled my belt and she gasped as she felt my hand on her upper back, pinning her down over me. I snapped my wrist and whipped her cheek. She shrieked in the aftermath of the sting. I struck her again, the sound of leather-on-flesh echoing in the garden.

"Uncle Victor! I'll get dressed! Please! I'm frightened!"

I pulled her up and sat her on me, my lips caressing her ear, followed by my teeth biting down on that malleable cartilage. "I don't care if you're naked or dressed. You expose yourself to men and you expected to keep that flower of yours untouched until marriage. Knowing your father, he'll have you buried next month, to a man like the Duke of Pryce."

"Please..."

I reached for her face and covered her mouth as I cracked my belt upon her thigh. She screamed within the hollow passways of her throat. That beautiful throat that I felt as I uncovered her mouth and squeezed my fingers around her trachea. Her skin was milky, feeling like the petals of a rose on my coarse, war-torn hands. My heart pulsed and my blood coursed in my veins, hot and needing.

Still, I let her go and she started to cry out sobs of pitiful mercy. She scurried away from me and this uncanny swing. She grabbed a silken sheet that had been lying on the grass and wrapped it around her body as she ran away, sobbing.

Stupid girl. What a stupid girl...