Enslaved by My Forgotten Wife

The castle library is a vast, cavernous space that seems to stretch on forever. Towering shelves of dark, polished wood reach towards the vaulted ceiling, their uppermost levels disappearing into shadow. Ornate ladders on brass rails allow access to the higher shelves, their wheels gleaming in the warm light cast by dozens of floating orbs that drift lazily through the air.

The air is thick with the musty scent of old parchment and leather bindings, mingled with the faint aroma of candles.

I slouch in an overstuffed armchair, its deep crimson upholstery so plush I feel like I’m being swallowed whole. A hefty tome lies open in my lap, its gilded pages filled with florid descriptions of star-crossed lovers and heaving bosoms.

Across from me, Raven sits straight in a high-backed chair, his dark attire a stark contrast to the warm, rich tones of the library. His eyes dart rapidly across the pages of an ancient-looking text, absorbing information at a speed that makes my head spin.

“Raven,” I groan, letting the book fall closed with a dull thud. “I’m so fucking bored I’m gonna die.”

Raven’s eyes flick up from his book, one eyebrow arching in a perfect expression of exasperated disbelief. “We just got here four minutes ago,” he says, his deep voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

I stretch dramatically, my joints popping in a way that echoes through the cavernous space. “Four minutes, four hours, what’s the difference when you’re trapped in a gilded prison?” I say, throwing an arm across my forehead in mock despair.

Raven’s eyes widen at my dramatic proclamation, a flicker of genuine concern crossing his stoic features. He sets his book aside, leaning forward with an intensity that makes me regret my flippant words.

“Saber,” he says, his deep voice low and urgent, “do you truly feel like a prisoner here?”

The genuine worry in his tone catches me off guard. I realize my joke has struck a nerve, touching on some deeper concern that Raven harbors. I straighten up in my chair, offering him a reassuring smile.

“No, buddy,” I say, my voice warm with friendship. “I was just being dramatic. This place is incredible, really.”

Raven visibly relaxes, sinking back into his chair with a relieved sigh. “I’m glad to hear that.”

As the tension dissipates, a question that’s been nagging at me bubbles to the surface. “Hey, Raven, what exactly is our relationship? I mean, you seem to know so much about me.”

Raven lets out a surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm in the quiet library. “You’ve been with Vallenora for three weeks now, and you’re only just asking me this?” he says, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

I shrug, a wry smile playing across my lips. “Well, when the woman you watch kill three dragons in front of you says she’s your wife, what are you gonna do, argue?” I pause, my voice dropping as I add, “Plus, I’ve been a bit... distracted.”

“Distracted, indeed,” he says, his tone dry but tinged with humor. “I can only imagine.”

Raven’s expression softens, his dark eyes holding a mixture of fondness and regret. “I’m sorry, Saber, but I can’t tell you exactly what our relationship was,” he says, his deep voice tinged with genuine remorse. “It’s... complicated.”

He leans forward, his gaze intense and sincere. “But I want you to know this. I would never intentionally steer you wrong. I hope you can trust that, even if you can’t remember why.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between us, heavy with unspoken history. I nod slowly, processing this information. “I appreciate your honesty, Raven,” I say, offering him a small smile.

A thought suddenly occurs to me, and I sit up straighter in my plush chair. “Hey, am I allowed to leave the castle?” I ask, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice. “I mean, I love the luxury and all, but I’m starting to feel a bit cooped up.”

“Yes, you’re allowed to move around the realm as long as I’m with you or Lady Lilith is with you. Vallenora has seen to it to put a locating spell on you, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

My eyes light up at this revelation. “That’s sick!” I exclaim, already imagining the adventures we could have. “Can we go out? Like, right now?”

Raven chuckles, “Yes, we can go out. Would you like to see the castle town?”

“Yes!” I practically shout, leaping to my feet with such force that the massive tome on my lap tumbles to the floor with a resounding thud.

Raven rises more gracefully, smoothing out his dark attire. “Very well.”

*****

The castle town unfolds before us like a vibrant tapestry, a riot of color and sound that assaults the senses. Cobblestone streets wind between buildings of weathered brick and half-timbered construction, their upper stories jutting out over the bustling thoroughfares. Brightly colored awnings and fluttering banners add splashes of vivid hues to the scene, swaying gently in the warm breeze.

The air is thick with a cacophony of sounds the clanging of a blacksmith’s hammer, the lilting melodies of street musicians, the shouts of vendors hawking their wares, and the constant buzz of a thousand conversations melding into a single, living entity. Delicious aromas waft from bakeries and food stalls, mingling with the less pleasant but equally vital scents of tanneries and stables.

People of all shapes and sizes line the streets, a diverse mix of humans and other races I can’t even begin to identify. I spot beings with pointed ears, stocky figures with beards so long they’re braided and adorned with metal clips, and even a few individuals with skin in shades of green or blue.

As we make our way through the crowded streets, I can’t help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer scale of it all. The ‘town’ stretches as far as the eye can see, buildings rising higher than any medieval settlement I can recall from my old life.

“This feels bigger than a town,” I remark to Raven, my eyes wide as I try to take in every detail.

Raven merely shrugs, his stoic expression betraying no surprise at the bustling metropolis around us. To him, this must be an everyday sight.

As we navigate the streets, my stomach growls audibly, reminding me that it’s been hours since our last meal. My eyes light up as I spot a weathered wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, depicting a frothy mug of ale.

“I’m hungry,” I announce, pointing eagerly at the bar. “Let’s grab something there.”

Raven’s brow furrows slightly as he follows my gaze. “Bars aren’t typically the best establishments for quality food,” he says, his tone carefully neutral. He gestures further down the street, where I can see the elegant facade of what’s clearly a high-end restaurant. “Perhaps that would be a more suitable choice?”

I shake my head emphatically. “Nah, man. I grew up middle class. That fancy place isn’t really my style.”

Raven’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Middle class?” he repeats, the term clearly unfamiliar to him.

I chuckle, clapping Raven on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t get it,” I say with a grin as we push open the heavy wooden door of the bar.

The interior hits us like a wall of sound and smell. The air is thick with pipe smoke, the pungent aroma mingling with the sour tang of spilled ale and the earthy scent of unwashed bodies. Raucous laughter and drunken shouts compete with the off-key strumming of a bard in the corner, his ballad lost beneath the ruckus.

I feel a wide grin spreading across my face. This is exactly the kind of place I’ve been craving, raw, real, and utterly removed from the gilded opulence of the castle.

As we make our way toward an empty table, a mountain of a man rises to block our path. He towers over us, his muscular frame barely contained by a vest of scarred leather. Two gleaming fangs protrude from his upper lip, giving his sneer an even more menacing edge. His eyes, a startling amber color, lock onto Raven with undisguised hostility.

“Well, well,” the man growls, his voice as rough as gravel. “Who let this piece of shit into town?”

“Fuck off, Tezzan,” Raven spits, his normally smooth voice dripping with venom.

Tezzan’s massive form looms over us, his amber eyes blazing with fury. The dim tavern light glints off his protruding fangs as he snarls, “Traitors like you should be burned alive, Raven. Your ashes scattered to the winds.”

His meaty hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of Raven’s shirt. Quick as a viper, Raven slaps Tezzan’s hand away, his normally stoic face twisted with disgust.

The tavern grows eerily quiet, the patrons sensing the brewing confrontation. Even the bard in the corner falls silent, his fingers frozen on the strings of his lute.

Tezzan’s nostrils flare as he finally notices me standing beside Raven. His eyes narrow, raking over me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Tezzan sneers, his gravelly voice dripping with contempt. “Raven’s little slave bitch?” A cruel smile spreads across his face, revealing more of those gleaming fangs. “Does he fuck you good, slave bitch?”

I stand my ground, oddly unperturbed by Tezzan’s crude remarks. There’s something almost comical about his over-the-top aggression. Besides, Raven seems to have the situation on lock.

Raven, however, looks anything but calm. His face has gone pale, eyes wide with what looks like genuine fear. It’s not Tezzan he’s worried about, I realize. It’s as if he’s terrified of someone else finding out about this encounter.

‘Oh, he’s worried about my wife. That makes sense.’

“Tezzan, cool it,” Raven hisses, his voice low and urgent. “You don’t know who this is.”

Tezzan’s massive hand clamps down on my arm, I feel a surge of energy pulse through the collar around my neck. The air crackles with arcane power, and suddenly, Vallenora materializes before us in a swirl of purple light.

Her entrance is nothing short of spectacular. The dim tavern is suddenly illuminated by an otherworldly glow, casting long, ominous shadows across the stunned faces of the patrons. Vallenora’s raven hair whips around her face as if caught in an ethereal wind, her crimson eyes blazing with a fury that could melt steel.

“Why are you touching my husband, you low-born piece of shit?” Vallenora’s voice rings out, each word dripping with venom and barely contained rage. The temperature in the room seems to plummet, frost crystallizing on the edges of nearby mugs and plates.

Tezzan’s eyes widen in shock and terror. His hand releases my arm as if burned, and he takes a stumbling step backward. The color drains from his face, leaving him ashen and trembling.

“My Q..Queen,” he stammers, his earlier bravado evaporating like mist in the noonday sun. “I didn’t... I mean, I wasn’t...”

Vallenora’s lips curl into a sneer of utter contempt. “You think you the drink, bitch?” she spits, her voice laced with dark amusement. “You’re not even the cup.”

Vallenora’s eyes flash with manic glee as she lunges forward, her delicate hands closing around Tezzan’s massive biceps. With a sickening squelch and a spray of scarlet, she rips his arms clean off his body as if they were made of wet clay.

Tezzan’s agonized screams fill the tavern, drowning out the gasps and cries of horror from the other patrons. Blood gushes from the ragged stumps of his shoulders, splattering across the sawdust-covered floor in gruesome arcs.

‘This….. This is no good. Can’t take her anywhere.’

Vallenora stands there, an arm in each hand, her pristine gown somehow untouched by the carnage. Her crimson eyes are wide with an almost childlike excitement, a disturbing contrast to the brutality of her actions. She turns to me, holding up the severed limbs like trophies.

“Did I do good, my love?” she asks, her melodic voice filled with eager anticipation. “Was my cadence impressive? I’ve been practicing the words you taught me!”

I stare at her in stunned disbelief, my mind struggling to process the sudden violence. “Honey,” I say slowly, my voice strained, “we can’t just rip people’s arms off.”

Vallenora’s brow furrows in confusion. “But he had killing intent towards you,” she protests. “I cast a spell on you to notify me if anyone showed such malice. I had to protect you!”

I turn to Raven, seeking confirmation. He nods grimly, his face pale but unsurprised by the turn of events.

Vallenora looks up at me with wide, expectant eyes, like a child eagerly awaiting praise for a crayon drawing proudly displayed on the refrigerator. Her crimson irises sparkle with excitement, a stark contrast to the gruesome reality of the severed arms still clutched in her delicate hands. Blood drips from the ragged ends, forming a growing puddle at her feet that seems to go unnoticed by her.

“Well?” she asks, her melodic voice tinged with anticipation. “Wasn’t that impressive, my love?”

I reach out awkwardly, gently patting her head as if soothing an overeager puppy. Her raven hair is impossibly soft beneath my palm, a silken waterfall that seems at odds with the violence she’s just committed.

‘She saved my life. I gotta praise her.’

“Honey,” I say, my voice strained as I try to keep it gentle, “why don’t you put those arms down now?”

Without hesitation, Vallenora releases her grip on the severed limbs. They fall to the floor with a sickening, meaty thud that echoes through the now-silent tavern. She doesn’t even glance at them, her gaze fixed solely on me, still seeking approval.

Suddenly, a small frown creases her porcelain brow. “Darn,” she sighs, her tone reminiscent of someone who’s just remembered they left the stove on. “I’ve got to get back to work. Those pesky matters of state won’t attend to themselves.”

Before I can respond, Vallenora steps forward, closing the distance between us in a fluid motion. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a deep, possessive kiss that leaves me breathless. Her lips are soft yet insistent against mine, tasting faintly of exotic spices and something darker, more primal. When she finally pulls away, her crimson eyes are hooded with desire and a hint of regret at having to leave. She’s also vibrating with that pesky purple lightning.

With a playful smile, she reaches up and gently taps the tip of my nose with her index finger. “Boop,” she says, her voice light and teasing. “I’ll see you for dinner, my love. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Before I can even form a response, Vallenora’s form shimmers and dissolves into a swirl of purple light. The arcane energy crackles and pops, sending sparks dancing through the air before fading away entirely, leaving no trace of her presence save for the severed arms on the floor.

I turn my attention to Tezzan, who lies crumpled on the sawdust-strewn floor. His massive frame seems diminished somehow, curled in on itself like a wounded animal. Blood continues to pump from the ragged stumps of his shoulders, forming an ever-expanding crimson pool that soaks into the rough wooden floorboards.

Despite the grievous nature of his wounds, Tezzan still clings to life. His amber eyes, once blazing with fury, now flicker with pain and something else, a dawning realization of the grave mistake he’s made. His lips move, struggling to form words through the haze of agony and shock.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” Tezzan manages to croak out, his gravelly voice now barely more than a whisper. The words seem to cost him greatly, each syllable a monumental effort.

I shake my head, a mixture of pity and exasperation washing over me. “You were gonna kill me. Come on, man.”

Raven lets out a long, weary sigh beside me. With a fluid motion that speaks of years of practice, he draws a sleek dagger from a hidden sheath.

Before I can fully process what’s happening, Raven steps forward and, in one swift, merciless movement, plunges the dagger deep into Tezzan’s throat.

“Was that really necessary?” I ask, my voice strained as I watch Tezzan’s eyes go glassy, the last spark of life fading away.

Raven wipes his blade clean on Tezzan’s leather vest before resheathing it. He turns to me, his expression unreadable as he raises two fingers to his temple in a gesture I assume means receiving a magical message.

“Your wife told me too,” Raven explains, his deep voice tinged with exhaustion. “She said she forgot to kill him herself.”

“Let’s just go back home,” I say as my appetite has been ruined.

“That’s probably for the best,” Raven replies with resigned agreement.