The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 192 - Even A Short Forbidden Tryst Can Breach The Walls Of Her Fortress... With The Right Accessories

Chapter 192: Chapter 192 - Even A Short Forbidden Tryst Can Breach The Walls Of Her Fortress... With The Right Accessories

The evening had grown cooler across the plain and, thankfully, the Yecine family’s training area. Qatrand moved through the final forms of their sword style alongside Navuill and three other young cultivators that were participating in the events.

Heavy blades caught the torch and lantern lights from multiple sources as they followed the elder’s ritual cadence. The elder’s stern voice carried clearly to their small group.

"Again. Your recovery is still too slow."

Qat felt the truth in the critique - her muscles had grown a touch heavier after hours of repetition. The raven-haired swordswoman adjusted her grip and concentrated on maintaining proper form despite the fatigue.

Her cousin put away his amusement at the determination in her pigeon-blue eyes. Navuill’s own swings had grown similarly labored, though he hid it just as well as their ’heir’. The others showed much more obvious signs of wear in their stances.

As they finished the sequence again, the elder gestured for them to gather closer.

"The competition’s physical trials will test your endurance as much as your technique. You must be prepared to wield your blades effectively even when exhausted. That is what is expected of a Yecine."

The swordswoman caught the underlying stress in his tone - they wouldn’t just be representing themselves in the events. Their performance would reflect on the entire family for this cycle. His weathered hands demonstrated several positions against his own weapon’s sheath.

"For the opening event, your blade must remain accessible during the climb. Many will foolishly strap theirs to their backs, only to find themselves unable to draw quickly enough if needed."

The man’s expression held generations of rigid doctrine as he spoke of the ’proper’ way their family handled such challenges. Her fingers tightened around her weapon’s hilt as she listened to his detailed instructions about the first event.

’The tower...’

Her gaze drifted toward the easternmost structure, remembering the surge of her wife’s spirit that she had felt from that direction earlier. The fragment in her chest still held phantom traces of her El’s ’longing’.

"No matter what changes in the competition, our methods have been tested through centuries of-"

A whisper of familiar spirit playfully brushed against Qatrand’s sense that interrupted her focus on the lecture. She maintained her stoic expression even as that ’mischievous’ feeling grew stronger. Her chest warmed and fluttered with recognition of what she was up to.

’She wouldn’t... no, she would.’

"That will be all for today. Rest well."

The elder’s dismissal came with pointed looks at each of them, even as they all bowed respectfully. Navuill fell into step beside Qatrand as they dispersed to their own tents. His voice carried quietly between them.

"Was it your wife? She is getting bolder."

The blonde’s steps didn’t falter as they walked through the family’s temporary housing area. It was still early enough that most flaps were open, spilling personal lantern light out into the night. She could feel Elua’s presence clearly... though she carefully avoided looking in that direction.

’She is not *getting* bolder, she is just hiding it less. Or is that the same thing?’

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Of course not."

His spirit held traces of that earlier ’amusement’ as he split off toward his own lodging. After all, he wanted nothing to do with their intimacies! Nor did he want to imagine how the girl might have snuck past their guards.

He just couldn’t help but feel her emotions spike before. Even though it was awkward to be around them, he truly was happy for his cousin. That very Yecine waited until she was certain none of the elders lingered, waiting to talk to her, before ducking through the canvas entrance of her assigned space.

The brunette lay on her back on her husband-wife’s bedroll and kicked her feet up onto a little stool. The fact that she was at ease as if she belonged there didn’t faze the tall teenager, though a bitter ’relief’ did show itself over one facet of the situation. Her hand rose to cover her eyes as she exercised her forbearance.

’At least she positioned herself so no one would *see* anything if they entered.’

Skirt folds of that silver dress still covered everything from the swordswoman’s line of sight, but only just. A tiny illusory representation of a regional tower rotated above her palm.

"I know, I’m early. I would have waited longer, but I got impatient."

The ’sweet’ voice *whined* and Qat moved to set her heavy blade carefully on its stand. There wasn’t a lot that had been brought other than necessary furnitures - the only seat in the tent was under her wife’s legs.

"Impatient for what, exactly?"

Her low voice held traces of amusement at the small girl’s dramatic sprawl. The landmark display continued a lazy spin above the Goltbred’s hand, reminding her of the place she had felt the other cultivator before.

’She climbed one before I did. Was there a reason? Or just because it was a high place...’

It was growing clear to Qatrand that the ancient cultivator had a preference for such things, though she hadn’t yet asked for the reason. The ’older’ girl found it enjoyable to wait on her wife to tell a story on her own. It felt like the timing of the choice gave even more insight.

"All these events will be quite eye-catching for the average person. Though really, all I can think about right now is something else worth watching..."

The reincarnator’s dull mint gaze traced appreciatively over the muscular form. Qat settled to the ground nearby, light training clothes clinging in places to her skin. The sweaty scent of her recent exertions filled the enclosed space quickly.

’Stop thinking about it. Stop-’

The heiress was finding her mantra useless. Even if she could prevent more *serious* imaginations, a tempting one remained. The thought of finding a tub of water and cloth to wipe her spouse down for the night... was clearly a trap by her own brain!

’I won’t fool myself this time! I’m not going to do anything!’

"Be good. You’re going to get us both in trouble."

The words lacked any real admonishment as the Yecine rubbed a hand over her own hair. She really wanted to change its color with it being just the two of them, but she held strong. If she gave in... how could she expect her mint-drop to remain professional?

"I probably will someday. But I missed you."

Tendrils of spirit floated playfully through her wife’s cloudier expression of mental energy, sharing familiar hints of affection without wrapping tight. The illusion in hand disappeared as she reached up to brush tiny fingers against Qat’s arm. The touch was feather-light and hesitant - a reminder that she understood.

She ’could not’ linger there for the night no matter how much they wished to.

’I very well could... but I get that she doesn’t want me to - and wants me to. I’m not content with them being roughly equal, but that’s my problem.’

The swordswoman caught her retreating hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.

"I missed you too. Though I doubt you came just to tell me that."

"You’re right. I came for this."

Elua twisted her wrist to grab at the girl’s collar. She pulled her down and herself up just enough to steal a quick, upside down kiss. Her dress rustled as she moved her legs off the stool, but kept the lip contact brief. Despite every urge to deepen it.

As she eased down, her ’sweet’ smile carried hints of resignation.

"I should go, before I do anything your family notices."

Neither of them moved immediately. A small hand still gripped on the slightly damp collar. A calloused one still touched lightly against her wife’s smooth elbow. The fragments in both of their chests ached with their shared ’reluctance’.

"I feel like a coquette."

"Haven’t you always been one?"

Elua had no defense. The Goltbred learned that it wasn’t any better when the Yecine wanted her to stay more than leave - just a little bit - either. With a soft sigh, Elua let her hand fall away.

She reached into her dress and withdrew a length of black silk ribbon. The material was so fine it seemed to absorb the lantern light.

Wordlessly, she pressed it all into Qatrand’s palm and curled the fingers of her beloved fortress around it. The metallic silver fabric of her dress ruffled against the bedroll as she slid away and to her feet.

"Until tomorrow, my love."

With that monotone phrase, the heiress paused at the tent’s entrance before she looked back at Qatrand with dull mint eyes. They shimmered mysteriously as her spirit began fooling anyone nearby. The tent flap fell closed behind her with a soft rustle.

Qatrand sat unmoving, the apparent gift clutched tight in her fist. The departure left a sense of coldness in the space Elua had left behind that she was sure wasn’t from the girl’s essence practice like before.

’Coquette, temptress, siren. They fit. Fairy, Wolf, Ogre. They fit. Cute, fiancee, wife... now warmth. How much more will she fit when I think of anything?’

Minutes passed before Qatrand stirred again. Her hand opened to look at the embroidery beneath her fingertips. Old tongue lettering spelled out her name, stitched in something the shade of her natural hair.

"No, this... is my hair, isn’t it?"

It did not use many strands... and Qat could only assume they were gathered from the few times they rested together in the last month. It was clear that the length of cloth was meant to tie up hair. A secret rebellion - something to carry her natural identity when ’duty’ demanded otherwise of the Yecine.

"Not good."

Sore muscles protested sudden movement as her feet carried her to a second special tent with a small washbasin and storage chest. Her hands moved automatically to strip away her sweat-dampened clothes. As she wiped the day’s exertions from her skin, her mind replayed every moment of Elua’s short visit.

The teasing lilt of her voice, the brush of her fingers, the sensation of her kiss.

"Not good."

Qatrand’s hand stilled as it reached for the sleep shirt she’d brought. Instead, her fingers found the silk ribbon, stroking reverently over the blonde hair threads she knew the girl wove herself. The ancient lettering was flawless and had a quirk to it that the reincarnator had shown her once before.

A bend in one section that had apparently been changed and lost since her time... or so she had explained in her lecturing voice. The teenager lifted it to her forehead with closed eyes, unhelpfully and accidentally inhaling the faint scent of her wife that clung to the trailing fabric.

"I don’t want to stay alone in this camp."

With slow movements, she bound the ribbon over the strands of her hair. She barely remembered running the technique that changed it from the required raven black, but didn’t bother ’fixing’ it. The swordswoman walked back to her bedroll in a daze.

Tomorrow would contain more expectations to meet from her family. The position of heir. The continued deceit of her gender. Things that were more important to her in the daylight hours.

But at night, in the quiet of her bed, she could be simply Qatrand.

"My restraint needs work. I just know she felt every bit of that longing."

The girl who loved Elua er Goltbred beyond reason...