The first time it happened, Mu Alexius is caught unaware.
Mu wakes up in high alert when his ears detect a sharp ringing like the sound of falling debris or an enemy magician intruding Reim's air space. It isn't unusual; throughout his life he has seen many attempts to the late Magi, Scheherazade's life. Assassins do not pick the time when they strike. Without the Fanalis Corp's heightened senses and Scheherazade's powerful borg, some of the attempts would have been fatal. But, this new magi, Titus, is not Scheherazade. Scheherazade knows when and how assassin strikes, but Titus? Titus is a young boy who knows nothing about assassinations or struggles to power. Scheherazade has been sure to shield her clones – no, her sons and her daughters – from that kind of life.
It takes him a while to open his eyes and move his body. He feels more sluggish than usual, as if he has lost the strength and capability that put the Fanalis above a regular human in terms of physical strength. Mu fears that a spell has been cast upon, but he worries not as the Fanalis Corps are not as easily affected by magical binds and no magician can affect as many as his men. His senses, dull and weary, take their time to become aware of his surroundings. He reaches his first conclusion rather quickly: this is not his chambers.
The whole room has changed. Although he insisted to keep it simple, his quarters have been rather impressive, with walls accounted with gold, red velvet drapes, and a large window to overview Reim's beautiful city and the cliff in which the Hero General Pernadius Alexius has been laid to rest. But, this room is just half of what his quarters are supposed to be with cotton drapes, small windows, and white walls. His bed, layered with multiple pillows and purple drapes, is simply not his. He never sleeps with so many pillows with him, much more taking a woman with him.
No spell could teleport him to a different chamber – and for what purpose? And why would a woman be here? He has never seen such an assassination attempt as complicated as this, but he clearly knows that something is not right. Unfortunately, he is out of his element, but he does find a dagger at his bed side and an all-too familiar staff that only two people of this earth has wielded.
His mind flares with anger and he looks at the woman at his side to find answers. But the woman, oblivious and in slumber, shifts closer to him, to his naked form, and all his anger freezes in one sweep.
Lo and behold, his Lady Scheherazade in the flesh.
The golden hair, the petite features, and her pale skin – he has missed every bit since she had sacrificed herself during Magnostadt's war. But, now, here she is, alive and breathing. He could feel the softness of his skin against hers, the warmth of her fingertips on his hand. He realizes that she has been holding his hand, a hand that doesn't look like his. His mind jumps and turns in confusion, and Scheherazade awakes. Mu is mesmerized in her grace, her beauty, that he is too late to realize that she is naked, as naked as he, and he sees what everything she has to offer.
Embarrassed, he looks at drapes and tries to hide the growing arousal in his stomach. Scheherazade, on the other hand, is unfazed.
"…What are you doing?" she asks, lacking the power and serenity in her tone that she, as a ruler, has cultivated. Rather, her voice sounds natural, unkempt, ordinary as she would if she had not been Reim's Magi.
Despite his confusion, he does not fail to address his Magi. He salutes her just as any soldier would, trying to compose himself from this surreal experience. "M-My Lady," he speaks, missing how those words rolled in his tongue. He tries to keep his eyes on the sheets and not on that pale thigh and smooth skin that is begging to be touched.
"What?" Scheherazade only replies. Then, she snorts – something that he had never imagined his ruler would do – and laughs. A hearty and boisterous laugh that Mu would hear among his Corps. He had never imagined that Scheherazade has been capable of doing such a thing as she had always been silent; only speaking when she needs to. The raw emotion of her voice prompts him to look up, desperate to see his ruler laugh for the first time. And he does – he sees her laugh in her all-Scheherazade way: mouth wide and eyes crinkled. She looks so alive.
Unable to hold it in, his tears started to flow. Scheherazade, seeing Mu's reaction, abruptly stops laughing. "W-wait," she stutters, moving closer to Mu. Mu tries to shield his face – he cannot show a sign of weakness in front of his Magi – but his magi cups his face with a sheer force that would make Myron proud, and raises his head to stare back at her. She squints as she inspects Mu's tears, and Mu finds something, a scar, on Scheherazade's cheek. He grows immediately alarmed. "Are…Are you crying?" she asks.
"You have a scar," his concern for his Majesty outgrows his intense happiness to see her again and, without a second thought, he runs his thumb across it. He realizes what he has done a second after, but Scheherazade cups his hand and presses it against her cheek. Such an intimate gesture he has never imagined his magi doing to him. His arousal grows stronger.
"Yeah, duh," she says. "When we go to battle, our enemies don't necessarily hit us with pillows, do they?" then she turns and presses a soft kiss on his palm and he feels his neck grow warmer. "Hey, why are you crying? Bad dream? Is it about that magician again?"
He tries to find his words, but it's hard when his throat is dry and his mind is asking why Scheherazade is still alive. His mind wants to believe that this is all dream – only in dreams can he find Scheherazade like this – but she feels too alive, too real. He can feel her and she can feel him. "You died." He finally speaks. "You died and I couldn't do anything about it."
Her blue eyes shine in understanding. "Oh," she says, and Mu is almost afraid that she remembers that she's dead and will evaporate in any moment's notice. "But I'm alive, aren't I? I'm here. I've sworn to protect you, and no man, animal, or some stinky old magician can ever make me break that promise," Mu stills when Scheherazade leans forward, letting the blanket slips from her hips. Mu finds it hard to breathe as he takes a second look at his Majesty's flesh – her succulent breasts, her smooth stomach, her curved thighs, her warm womanhood. She strokes his cheek, puts his hands on her hips, and kisses him. Mu swears he forgot to breathe when he can feel her soft and warm lips on him, then her slippery tongue. The sounds of their lips smacking is slowly driving him on the edge, especially when his ruler demands entrance to his mouth.
With his desire and instinct raging to have a taste of Scheherazade's flesh, how could he not obey?
He slowly succumbs to a world of pleasure that he had known that Scheherazade is capable of. Her dominance, her technique is unbecoming of the High Priestess. Her kiss is enough to rile his cock to a full-blown erection, and when he accidentally pokes her with it, she gives him a coy smile.
"In your dream, I died, didn't I?" Mu can only nod. But, in the back of his mind, he knows that it isn't a dream. Scheherzade is truly dead; he can still remember how cold she felt. "Then, let me show you how alive I am right now." Without hesitation, she plunges her heat into his, and it takes all Mu's willpower not to come inside. He fights his primal urges as she gets accustomed to his length. She moves so slowly at first, then quickens her pace. She is giving out noises that is making hard for Mu to restrain the Fanalis inside him.
"Holy Kimaris! Don't just sit there, do something!" she screams, and Mu lets the beast out. He pushes her to bed, lifts her legs, and claims her. He claims her hard, pushes himself to her boundaries. He pours everything – his passion, his unrequited love, his desire to see her one last time – into his thrusts, which she responds with her beautiful moans and screams. A second later, he feels her come against his thrust, and soon, he comes as well, filling her womb with his hot sticky seed. In reality, he would've been worried that he had just impregnated the High Priestess, but this is all a dream and he will not waste his time pondering the whys and hows when Scheherazade is his woman for the night.
He lays next to her, exhausted and satisfied. But, he can feel the slumber creeping upon him and he is desperate to clung to this dream, to hold his ruler for one last time. He moves to trap her into an embrace and whispers. "Lady Scheherazade…"
"Don't call me 'Lady', that's weird," she huffs. She wiggles in his embrace to free her hand, and pokes his cheek with her finger. "Just call me 'Sche', like you always do."
'Sche'? It's too awfully familiar for someone like him to utter. "But…you are…our High Priestess…"
She snorts again. Mu is finding that incredibly cute. "Whaaaat. Honestly, what are you thinking? Me, a vestal maiden? I'd rather swim in Cathargo!" she says. "What's up with you tonight? Just go to sleep. You become weird when that old magician riles you up. Now go, sleep, else I'll put a spell on you!"
Mu chuckles, finding Scheherazade's scolding to be humorous. But in truth, he feels crying. His dream is about to end, and Scheherazade will just be nothing but a remainder of Reim's majestic history. His thoughts are broken when she presses a chaste kiss on his forehead. "I will never leave you, that I promise you," she says as she brings his face close to her chest, where Mu can hear her heartbeat. "I will make your line flourish. I will give you the kingdom you deserve. And I will make you King, Pernadius."
Pernadius? Mu thinks as his body starts to shut down. But, Scheherazade is unaware of Mu's predicament and strokes his hair to lull him to sleep. "Good night my king," she murmurs and the world slowly fade to black.
"Wait!" Mu screams as he jolts from his bed. But, it is too late. He is back to his chambers and his view of Pernadius Alexius' grave, now also Scheherazade's, at the horizon. Scheherazade is not here or the traces of her scent and warmth, but he can feel his seed staining his sheets, his cock tired from a rigorous activity. The dream is over, and he is left nothing but bitter memories and shameful stains.
Trying to forget this dream, Mu quietly cleans up, suits his gear, and makes early rounds around the castle premises. He greets and meets his Fanalis Corps like he does every single day, but he feels empty. He misses her.