Enslaved by My Forgotten Wife

[Raven’s POV]

I stand at the base of Vallenora’s towering castle, my neck craned back as I examine the imposing structure before me. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the weathered stone walls, their surface a patchwork of lichens and climbing vines that speak to the fortress’s ancient history.

My gaze travels upward until it settles on a small, unassuming opening high above. The garderobe hole (A/N toilet hole on the side of castle. A shit hole, if you will), a necessary but often overlooked feature of castle architecture, protrudes slightly from the smooth stone face. Its humble appearance belies its critical importance and, in this case, the catastrophic consequences of its misuse.

Beside me, Lilith shifts restlessly, her lithe form a study in barely contained energy. Her purple eyes, usually so calm and calculating, are wide with disbelief as she processes the information I’ve just shared.

“The giant ate Saber’s shit and became that powerful by accident?” Lilith’s voice drips with incredulity, each word enunciated as if she’s tasting them for the first time and finding the flavor distinctly unpleasant.

I let out a long, weary sigh, feeling the weight of the situation settle onto my shoulders like a physical burden. “Yes,” I reply, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into my tone. The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication and unspoken frustrations.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turn to face Lilith fully. The fading sunlight catches the highlights in her hair. “I told you and Vallenora to make sure his waste is disposed of properly,” I say, each word clipped and precise. “This is exactly the kind of situation I was trying to prevent.”

Lilith has the grace to look abashed, her gaze dropping to the ground as she scuffs the toe of her boot against the cobblestones. “We didn’t think it would be an issue,” she mumbles, sounding for all the world like a chastised child. “I mean, it’s just... shit.”

I bark at her, my patience finally snapping like an overstretched bowstring. “No, not just shit, you twit!” The words echo off the castle walls, startling a flock of ravens into flight from a nearby tower. “His piss, shit, cum, sweat, spit! Anything that comes out of him is a fucking threat!”

Lilith’s purple eyes widen, a spark of realization igniting within their depths. Her lithe form straightens, head tilting to one side as she regards me with newfound interest. “If his waste is so powerful,” she muses, her tone taking on a calculating edge, “why don’t we collect it?”

I let out a long, weary sigh, feeling the weight of centuries pressing down upon me. My gaze drifts back to the castle, to the window I know belongs to our queen’s chambers. “Vallenora and I made an agreement,” I say, each word heavy with unspoken history. “We would not collect it.”

Lilith’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the evening air like a knife. “Really?” she breathes, disbelief coloring her tone.

“Yes,” I reply simply, turning back to meet her incredulous stare.

Finally, Lilith’s patience snaps like a taut bowstring. Her eyes flash with annoyance. “Well?” she demands, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What are we supposed to do with his shit then? We can’t just leave it lying around for any passing giant to stumble upon again!”

I feel my own irritation rising to match hers, a headache beginning to throb at my temples.

“Just send it to the other fucking side!” I snap, my voice echoing off the weathered stone walls of the castle.

Lilith blinks, her annoyance evaporating like morning mist under the sun. She nods slowly, as if the solution had been obvious all along. “Oh, thats a good idea,” she says simply, her voice small in the wake of my outburst.

For a moment, I allow myself to hope that the matter is settled. But then Lilith’s brow furrows once more, her lips pursing in thought. She lets out a long, weary sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world.

“But how will we get the mana to power a portal to there constantly?” she asks, her voice tinged with genuine concern. “The mana requirements would be quite annoying.”

I close my eyes, counting to ten in my head as I struggle to maintain my composure. When I open them again, I fix Lilith with a stare that could melt steel beams. “Just use a small vial of his piss,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

Comprehension dawns on Lilith’s face like the rising sun, her eyes widening as the simplicity of the solution becomes clear. “Oh,” she breathes, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Of course. That’s... that’s obvious, isn’t it?”

I nod dismissively.

“How long will that last?” she asks.

“One, maybe two,” I reply, my voice low and measured.

“Years?” she breathes, the word hanging in the air between us, laden with implication.

I shake my head slowly. “Centuries,” I correct her.

“What the fuck,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and terror.

I nod solemnly, watching as the full implications of what I’ve revealed wash over her. The shadows lengthen around us as if the very world is holding its breath in the wake of this revelation.

Lilith’s gaze snaps back to me, her purple eyes blazing with a newfound intensity. “And Vallenora doesn’t even care about that?” she demands, her voice rising with each word.

Again, I nod. “In her true form, it wouldn’t even affect her.”

“She’s one impressive broad,” Lilith says at last, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. There’s a newfound respect in her voice, a grudging admiration for the sheer scale of Vallenora’s power.

*****

[Saber’s POV]

I stand in the opulent bathroom adjoining our bedchamber, my gaze fixed on the peculiar toilet I’ve grown accustomed to lately. The porcelain throne is a masterpiece of magical engineering, its smooth curves and gleaming surface a stark contrast to the rustic charm of the rest of the castle.

But it’s not the craftsmanship that holds my attention today. No, my eyes are drawn to the swirling vortex of darkness that seems to have taken up residence within the bowl. A portal of pure midnight spins lazily where water would be in my old world.

“Val,” I call out, my voice echoing off the ornate tiles. “You might want to see this.”

“Is my husband trying to show me how big his shits are now?” She speaks with a wide grin.

“No, I wouldn’t do that. I’m a gentleman.”

‘Maybe if it was really exceptional, though?’

Vallenora glides into the bathroom, her crimson eyes curious as she takes in my concerned expression. She moves to stand beside me, her presence a comforting warmth at my side.

“Look,” I say, pointing at the swirling darkness. “There’s a black hole in the toilet.”

Vallenora’s melodic laughter fills the air, light and carefree. She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, her touch sending little sparks of electricity dancing across my skin.

“No, no, my love,” she says, her voice rich with amusement. “It’s fine. It’s to help move the waste out of the castle efficiently.”

‘This was not here yesterday.’

I blink, processing this information. The idea of a magical sewage system is both fascinating and slightly terrifying. “Uh, okay,” I reply, not entirely convinced.

As I continue to stare at the swirling vortex, a thought occurs to me. It’s ridiculous, perhaps even childish, but once it takes root in my mind, I can’t shake it. I turn to Vallenora, my expression a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

“If my balls dip into it, will they get cut off?”

Vallenora stares at the swirling vortex for a long while, her crimson eyes reflecting the inky darkness. The bathroom falls silent save for the soft, whooshing sound emanating from the toilet bowl. Shadows dance across her porcelain features as she studies the magical phenomenon, her brow furrowed in concentration.

After what feels like an eternity, she turns to me, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “No,” she says simply, her melodic voice tinged with amusement.

Then, her smile widens, a mischievous glint appearing in her crimson eyes. “Your balls will be safe,” she purrs, “even when they become old and saggy.”

I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. “Alright, no need for that,” I mutter, averting my gaze from her knowing smirk.

Vallenora’s laughter fills the bathroom, rich and melodious. It echoes off the marble tiles, surrounding us like a warm embrace. “Are you worried I won’t love you when your balls are old and sagging?” she teases, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

I groan, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “I hate this,” I grumble, feeling my face grow even hotter under her amused gaze.

Vallenora’s expression softens, her laughter fading into a tender smile. She reaches out, cupping my face in her cool hands. “Honey,” she coos, her voice as sweet as honey, “of course I’ll still love you.”