Page 101 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
Ivy clung to the weathered stone walls like a living tapestry, and the iron gates hung slightly askew on their hinges, creaking in the gentle breeze that carried the scent of wildflowers and pine. The gardens had gone wild years ago, creating a riot of colour that no Imperial gardener would have tolerated—roses tangled with morning glories, herbs growing wherever they pleased, fruit trees heavy with unpruned branches that drooped toward the earth like offerings.
It had been several weeks since the Republic ceremony, and as our small caravan approached the manor house, I felt something ease in my chest that I hadn't even realized was still tight. This place felt like freedom in a way that even the arena's transformation hadn't—not the hard-won freedom of revolution, but the soft freedom of choice, of belonging somewhere by desire rather than necessity.
Overhead, Sirrax circled in lazy spirals, his golden scales catching the afternoon light. Tarshi flew beside him in dragonform, the two of them like living jewels against the blue sky. As I watched, they descended toward the wide field behind the house, landing with more grace than creatures their size had any right to possess. The shimmer of transformation rippled through the air, and then they were walking toward us in human form, Sirrax grinning with the satisfaction of a creature who had claimed new territory, Tarshi brushing grass from his body with careful precision.
Despite my excitement about our new home, I couldn’t help but watch them walk towards us, their strong, lean dark bodies catching gleams of sunlight, and I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, wondering exactly how long it would take us to unpack the wagons we had brought with us.
A strong pair of arms snaked around me, and I gasped as a rigid hardness pressed against me from behind. Septimus’ breath was warm on my skin as he bent down to murmur in my ear, his eyes still on Tarshi’s naked form.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I share your appreciation, but we’ve got much to do before sundown, and I doubt we have time for that.”
“Time for what?” asked Tarshi as he reached us. I didn’t answer, just let my eyes drop down his body, then back up slowly to his face, and he laughed.
“Not yet, Little Dragon, but soon, I promise.” He bent his head to kiss me, then broke away to kiss Septimus over my shoulder. The sight did nothing to ease my impatience, and neither did the press of Septimus’ cock against my lower back.
“Enough playing around,” said Jalend with mock severity. “Maybe you too should put some clothes on and stop distracting Livia. We haven’t got time for all that.”
As Tarshi and Septimus released me, I glared at him, and he winked at me, clearly remembering the way I had woken him this morning with my lips wrapped around him.
"Well," Marcus said, surveying the manor with the critical eye of someone who knew exactly how much work they were looking at, "it's got good bones. Roof needs patching, windows need re-glazing, probably half the floor joists are rotted through." He paused, then grinned. "Should keep us busy for a few years."
“Sounds perfect,” I said. I had been a little worried about us adopting this new life, away from the city, away from fighting and everything else we knew, but with every moment I stood here, I knew this had been the perfect choice. For the first time since childhood, I could imagine putting down roots somewhere. Not hiding, not running, not fighting for survival, but actually living. Building something that belonged to us.
We used the remaining daylight to unpack the wagons. One held all our clothes, bedding, and other personal supplies, whereas the other contained several months' supply of food, seed, tools and several crates of rather grumpy chickens. Taveth had been certain we’d be able to trade across the border and knew of at least three Talfen settlements not far from the estate. Once unloaded, we were able to spend a short time exploring the manor. There were enough bedrooms for all of us, though Tarshi and Septimus opted to share, and I was given the biggest by Jalend’s insistence. I was still taking in everything within the room when Sirrax and Antonius arrived with a matching bed from a guest room and proceeded to use it to construct a massive bed in the centre of the room, despite my protestations and blushes.
“Just in case,” Antonius had told me with a sly wink.
That evening, we gathered in what had once been the manor's main drawing room. Someone—probably Antonius—had managed to get a fire crackling in the massive stone hearth, and the warm light danced across walls that would soon ring with laughter instead of standing empty. It became fairly obvious early on that none of us had any idea how to cook, sowe shared bread, cheese, wine and stories, and for the first time since I could remember, we felt like a family instead of survivors.
"You know," Antonius said, swirling his wine with theatrical consideration, "there's still the question of favourites. Surely our Livia has ranked us by now?"
I glared at him as the others laughed.
"Dangerous territory," Marcus grinned.
"We all know who the favourite is," Sirrax drawled from his position by the fire, stretching like the predator he was. "Dragons have certain... advantages."
“Sirrax!” I gasped, blushing and giving him a swift kick from where I was sat.
"Size isn't everything," Septimus said dryly, which made Antonius nearly choke on his wine.
"Did Septimus just make a joke about—" Tarshi started.
"No," Septimus cut him off firmly, though his lips twitched. "I was talking about wingspan."
"Of course you were," Jalend said, grinning. "Though I have to point out that I'm the one who gave up an empire for her. That has to count for something."
"Romantic, but impractical," Antonius countered. "I, on the other hand, have promised to teach her the fine art of diplomatic seduction. Much more useful in the long run."
Marcus snorted. "You boys are all missing the point. It's not about what you can give her—it's about what you can take away." His eyes glinted with mischief. "I can make her forget her own name."
"Boastful," Taveth murmured, shadows beginning to dance around his fingers. "Though I suppose we could test that theory."
"Now that's an interesting proposition," Tarshi said, leaning forward. "A proper competition."
"Absolutely not," I protested, laughing despite myself. "I am not a prize to be won in some ridiculous contest."
"No," Septimus agreed, his voice dropping to that purr that made my skin tingle. "You're a goddess to be worshipped. But the question remains—who among us burns brightest in your eyes?"
