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Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland; The next Chapter
Chapter 10: Malicious intentions
Summary: After an argument with his older brother, Tearlách is filled with such rage that he decides to take it out on an innocent woman.
Notes:This chapter contains a sexual assault aka non-consensual sex/rape.
If this is too painful to read, please take care of yourself and refrain from reading everything after the fight Trálír and his younger brother had.
Or skip this whole chapter when you want to be sure.
It is important to take care and protect yourself.
There was a knock on the heavy oak door and Trálír lifted his eyes from the book he was reading. He sat at his desk, some notes in front of him, the cozy warmth of the fire burning in the hearth at his back.
He sighed deeply, for nothing was further from his mind than receiving visitors now.
Looking out of the window, he realized that the sky was already turning dark, the day was drawing closer to evening.
There was another knock, which Trálír silently ignored, his eyes back on the book as he heard the door open.
"I didn't let you in," he said in a cold voice, continuing to stare at the book. "If you knock and there is no answer, it means you are not wanted. Leave."
The soft and amused laughter of his younger brother finally made him lift his gaze, but it made clear that he was not welcome. Tearlách remained standing in the doorway, grinning.
"Are you really denying your younger brother entry?" he asked mockingly and stepped inside when Trálír finally shrugged his shoulders and pointed into the room with his chin.
Tearlách closed the door behind him, walked through the chamber and sat down on the edge of the bed so that he had a direct view of the older elf.
"Isn't it terribly tiring to sit in your chamber every day and read one book after another?" he asked with a furrowed brow. Trálír just looked at him in silence.
"You're probably reading every book in our library for the second or third time, judging by when the last monk or merchant found his way into our castle."
"There are still enough documents and scrolls lying on the shelves of our own monks," Trálír replied with a shrug. „And our library is big enough to distract us for decades.“
"As if that would make it any better," scoffed Tearlách. "It's not much more exciting than sitting at a table with our father. And that reminds me, by the way, that you haven't attended our meals in the last few evenings. Are you getting sick?"
Trálír sighed. "What are you really getting at, Tearlách? You didn't just show up at my place for no reason. And you're certainly not interested in how I'm really doing."
Tearlách shrugged.
"You are not wrong by that, my dearest Brother. To be honest, it's boredom," he replied, his handsome face grimacing.
"That's the nature of winter, Tearlách. It is a time of withdrawal and silence."
"It is but don't tell me you wouldn't feel the same way. The long evenings, the darkness, the cold. No chance to ride out and go hunting."
Tearlách looked at his older brother attentively.
"Or to meet up with your secret lover," Tearlách added maliciously. Trálír raised his eyes and looked angrily at his brother.
"Don't do that," the Firstborn warned him.
"Don't do what?" Tearlách replied in an innocent voice that contrasted with the amused twinkle in his yellow eyes.
"Your lover does not deserve a word of mention? Were you tired of her, or do you retire to your chamber because you are dying of longing for her? Does she have such a grip on you, Trálír? So much so that you toss and turn in your sheets at night, imagining yourself fucking her, feeling her quivering body beneath you..."
Tearlách broke off as Trálír suddenly rose from his seat and pushed the documents off the table with a furious movement. He looked angrily at his brother, raised his hand and pointed at him with his index finger.
"Don't talk about her like that!"
Tearlách raised a dark eyebrow in astonishment. "I see. You have feelings for her?"
There was surprise in his voice. "Look at that, who would have thought you'd develop feelings for a human woman. Is it love?"
Trálír sank back in his chair, the look in his blue-gray eyes dark.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he replied slowly.
"Did she leave you or did you leave her?" Tearlách raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Trálír repeated and sighed as he sank back into his chair.
"Oh yes, it does matter," the younger brother replied. "I assume that she was no longer interested in you. That would explain your mood and your retreat into the world of words, hidden from everything you feel and think."
Trálír remained silent.
"Did she break your heart?" Tearlách asked quietly and, to his surprise, Trálír could hear genuine compassion in his voice. He looked at his brother dejectedly without giving him an answer.
Trálír's silence was answer enough for Tearlách.
"She did," he confirmed to himself. For a moment, he joined the older brother's silence until he finally said quietly, "I'm sorry for you, Trálír."
The latter responded with a snort.
"Please, Tearlách. If it's something I really don't need or want to hear, it's your split words that say one thing and mean another. As if you could really empathize with how I feel."
"You misunderstand me." Tearlách sounded hurt.
"I misunderstand you? How can you speak of love? Brother, I know about your preferences, I know how you treat women. I know about all the things you do in secret. Even the shadow reveals its secrets if you look very closely."
Tearlách gave a snort and looked at his brother with a mixture of vulnerability and annoyance. "You may be right. But maybe that's because I've never experienced what love feels like. Mother passed away when I was born and I was raised by a wet nurse who felt like she came from the Nine Hells. And father? As if he ever cared what I thought or felt. Or would have wanted to. No one cared about me, including you..." He broke off and looked reproachfully at his older brother.
Trálír looked at Tearlách indignantly.
"Your words are not true, Tearlách. How could you believe that you were never important to me?"
The younger one laughed bitterly. "When were you ever there for me, Trálír? Did you take care of me when the nurse locked me up when I cried from loneliness because I had no mother? Were you by my side when father humiliated and paraded me around? Do you remember his malicious laughter when the soldiers made fun of my supposed physical weakness? I don't remember you standing by my side."
"I had no choice, brother. I wasn't able to do it.“
Trálír did not tell his younger brother that their father had forbidden him to do so. Every time he tried to help Tearlách, Trálír the Elder threatened to punish the youngest son even more. To give him an explanation as to why it had been impossible for him, Trálír decided to blame it on his father's expectations.
„Ever since I was born, I've been training for an inheritance that I won't be able to take up in 500 years because father has no interest whatsoever in giving up his throne. Fine, let him do it, I don't care in the slightest, I don't want this inheritance. I don't want to have to carry this damn burden and nothing is further from my mind than following in the footsteps of our ancestors.
I've been trained for decades to fight, I've had to endure countless hours of history, politics, taxes. I live in a swamp of expectations that I don't want to fulfill. And yet I am forced to do so. The only reason I walk on these lands is because he wanted an heir and that was the only thing I should focus on. There was no room for anything else. There wasn't even room for you."
Trálír's voice had become louder and Tearlách watched his face contort with anger.
"Then take the throne," Tearlách whispered, looking at him challengingly. "Take what's rightfully yours."
"What?" Trálír stared at his younger brother, stunned.
"You heard me. Take the throne. I will stand by your side."
Shaking his head, the older elf raised his hand. "Enough, Tearlách. I'll forget you ever uttered those words."
"And instead you just want to carry on like this? Always standing in the shadow of the great and all-powerful Trálír the Elder? Everyone in these lands knows that he is not a good ruler. Why don't you have the courage to take what is rightfully yours?"
"It's not my place to usurp a throne," Trálír replied through clenched teeth.
"Even if you are by far the better and fairer ruler?"
The firstborn took a deep breath. "That's not up for discussion, Tearlách."
"I see it differently, because I see that everything father does goes against your values. We know of the injustices, we know of his hatred towards the half-elves and the humans. And yet we remain silent? Why do you still allow it when you could change it to the better?"
Trálír shook his head in frustration. "I'm not going to continue this discussion, Tearlách. I will not take the throne by force, not under any circumstances."
"You're just a coward, Trálír. And you don't dare do what you want. Such as taking over the throne that is rightfully yours, Father could retire. If you despise all this so much, why don't you leave it behind? Why do you stay here, in this castle, so caught up in all the expectations of others? Why don't you go to your human lover, take her by the hand and disappear with her? Leave everything behind you, flee. Why are you torturing yourself by fulfilling these expectations?"
"Enough!" shouted Trálír, pointing at the door. He had difficulty suppressing his anger. "That's enough. I don't want to hear another word you say! Get out!"
Tearlách clenched his lips in frustration, stood up and left his older brother's room without another word.
*****
The Second Born was filled with hot anger and as he walked down the long corridor, a sense of humiliation filled him at Trálír's refusal to put his proposal into action. In doing so, he offered his older brother the way out he so desperately wanted. If they stood up to their father, if he helped Trálír take the throne, then they would both have a future. Even if he would rather live out his existence as a hunter and tracker, the Firstborn would still be a good ruler. Anyone could be a better ruler than Trálír the Elder. Even Zariel, the Lady of Avernus, would be better than his father, Tearlách thought angrily. He reached the grand staircase, descended it past his father and his men and pushed open the door to the castle kitchen.
Startled, the cook, servants and maids stared at the lord's son as he stepped into the room.
He looked around and when his eyes fell on the young kitchen maid Serah, he pointed at her with his index finger.
"You! Come here!" Tearlách ordered.
Serah, a girl of only 16 and only at the castle since last summer, looked at him in horror.
She knew about him and the things he did. There were two or three maids who indulged his desires and made a small fortune out of it, but others feared him like the devil fears the light.
Serah had heard whispered words in the servants' quarters, words that spoke of pain and humiliation, of tears and agony suffered.
And when the young girl looked into the amber eyes glittering with anger, she knew that all these words were true.
Seeking help, she looked at the cook, who lowered her head and avoided her gaze. The other servants did the same.
Serah suppressed her rising sobs and walked slowly towards her master.
"Faster!" Tearlách ordered and grabbed her upper arm as she came within his reach. Without another word, he left the castle kitchen, dragging the girl behind him as she stumbled over her long skirt. Tearlách opened the door to the storeroom and strode down, dragging the frightened maiden behind him.
As they walked through the darkness, he pushed her in front of him and pressed her violently against the cold and cracked wall. She was rigid with fear as Tearlách tore at his pants, freeing his member. With one hand, he grabbed the back of Serah's neck and pressed her face against the cold stone while he lifted her skirt with his right hand.
"Hells," he cursed through clenched teeth when he noticed the underwear she was wearing. Impatiently, he tore at the thin material and carelessly threw the fabric on the floor.
His fingers slipped between her legs and Serah pressed her body against the wall, an inner instinct to escape from the situation.
"Oh my Love," Tearláchs voice was a breath of air against her ear, his words dark with lust. "You are not eager to see me, maid? I'm almost a little disappointed that such a young and pretty thing is so dried out between her legs like a withered plum. That won't necessarily be pleasant for you. But all the more satisfying for me.“
The maid stifled a sob and bit her lower lip so hard that it began to bleed to prevent her from bursting into tears. Tearlách put his head back and grinned when he pushed himself between her legs, his arousal pressing against her folds.
With just one powerful and relentless thrust, Tearlách slid into the young girl. He groaned again her neck when he felt how tight she was around his cock.
With long and powerful thrusts, he pinned the whimpering girl against the wall.
The young elf quickened the pace and with a few merciless thrusts he speared the the maid deeper into the wall until he reached his climax and filled her womb with his seed. He let himself sink against her body and stroked her hair almost tenderly while Serah cried silently.
He slid out of her and noticed that his member was covered in a little blood. Surprised, he raised an eyebrow.
"A virgin? What a pleasant surprise. Go to the lord of the castle tomorrow, he'll give you a gold coin for your pleasure and the fact that I was your first," Tearlách whispered with a grin and pressed a kiss to the back of her head.
He knotted the leather waistband of his pants and left the crying girl behind him, who slumped down in the darkness of the storeroom and hid her face in her hands, sobbing.
Summary: After an argument with his older brother, Tearlách is filled with such rage that he decides to take it out on an innocent woman.
Notes:This chapter contains a sexual assault aka non-consensual sex/rape.
If this is too painful to read, please take care of yourself and refrain from reading everything after the fight Trálír and his younger brother had.
Or skip this whole chapter when you want to be sure.
It is important to take care and protect yourself.
There was a knock on the heavy oak door and Trálír lifted his eyes from the book he was reading. He sat at his desk, some notes in front of him, the cozy warmth of the fire burning in the hearth at his back.
He sighed deeply, for nothing was further from his mind than receiving visitors now.
Looking out of the window, he realized that the sky was already turning dark, the day was drawing closer to evening.
There was another knock, which Trálír silently ignored, his eyes back on the book as he heard the door open.
"I didn't let you in," he said in a cold voice, continuing to stare at the book. "If you knock and there is no answer, it means you are not wanted. Leave."
The soft and amused laughter of his younger brother finally made him lift his gaze, but it made clear that he was not welcome. Tearlách remained standing in the doorway, grinning.
"Are you really denying your younger brother entry?" he asked mockingly and stepped inside when Trálír finally shrugged his shoulders and pointed into the room with his chin.
Tearlách closed the door behind him, walked through the chamber and sat down on the edge of the bed so that he had a direct view of the older elf.
"Isn't it terribly tiring to sit in your chamber every day and read one book after another?" he asked with a furrowed brow. Trálír just looked at him in silence.
"You're probably reading every book in our library for the second or third time, judging by when the last monk or merchant found his way into our castle."
"There are still enough documents and scrolls lying on the shelves of our own monks," Trálír replied with a shrug. „And our library is big enough to distract us for decades.“
"As if that would make it any better," scoffed Tearlách. "It's not much more exciting than sitting at a table with our father. And that reminds me, by the way, that you haven't attended our meals in the last few evenings. Are you getting sick?"
Trálír sighed. "What are you really getting at, Tearlách? You didn't just show up at my place for no reason. And you're certainly not interested in how I'm really doing."
Tearlách shrugged.
"You are not wrong by that, my dearest Brother. To be honest, it's boredom," he replied, his handsome face grimacing.
"That's the nature of winter, Tearlách. It is a time of withdrawal and silence."
"It is but don't tell me you wouldn't feel the same way. The long evenings, the darkness, the cold. No chance to ride out and go hunting."
Tearlách looked at his older brother attentively.
"Or to meet up with your secret lover," Tearlách added maliciously. Trálír raised his eyes and looked angrily at his brother.
"Don't do that," the Firstborn warned him.
"Don't do what?" Tearlách replied in an innocent voice that contrasted with the amused twinkle in his yellow eyes.
"Your lover does not deserve a word of mention? Were you tired of her, or do you retire to your chamber because you are dying of longing for her? Does she have such a grip on you, Trálír? So much so that you toss and turn in your sheets at night, imagining yourself fucking her, feeling her quivering body beneath you..."
Tearlách broke off as Trálír suddenly rose from his seat and pushed the documents off the table with a furious movement. He looked angrily at his brother, raised his hand and pointed at him with his index finger.
"Don't talk about her like that!"
Tearlách raised a dark eyebrow in astonishment. "I see. You have feelings for her?"
There was surprise in his voice. "Look at that, who would have thought you'd develop feelings for a human woman. Is it love?"
Trálír sank back in his chair, the look in his blue-gray eyes dark.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he replied slowly.
"Did she leave you or did you leave her?" Tearlách raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Trálír repeated and sighed as he sank back into his chair.
"Oh yes, it does matter," the younger brother replied. "I assume that she was no longer interested in you. That would explain your mood and your retreat into the world of words, hidden from everything you feel and think."
Trálír remained silent.
"Did she break your heart?" Tearlách asked quietly and, to his surprise, Trálír could hear genuine compassion in his voice. He looked at his brother dejectedly without giving him an answer.
Trálír's silence was answer enough for Tearlách.
"She did," he confirmed to himself. For a moment, he joined the older brother's silence until he finally said quietly, "I'm sorry for you, Trálír."
The latter responded with a snort.
"Please, Tearlách. If it's something I really don't need or want to hear, it's your split words that say one thing and mean another. As if you could really empathize with how I feel."
"You misunderstand me." Tearlách sounded hurt.
"I misunderstand you? How can you speak of love? Brother, I know about your preferences, I know how you treat women. I know about all the things you do in secret. Even the shadow reveals its secrets if you look very closely."
Tearlách gave a snort and looked at his brother with a mixture of vulnerability and annoyance. "You may be right. But maybe that's because I've never experienced what love feels like. Mother passed away when I was born and I was raised by a wet nurse who felt like she came from the Nine Hells. And father? As if he ever cared what I thought or felt. Or would have wanted to. No one cared about me, including you..." He broke off and looked reproachfully at his older brother.
Trálír looked at Tearlách indignantly.
"Your words are not true, Tearlách. How could you believe that you were never important to me?"
The younger one laughed bitterly. "When were you ever there for me, Trálír? Did you take care of me when the nurse locked me up when I cried from loneliness because I had no mother? Were you by my side when father humiliated and paraded me around? Do you remember his malicious laughter when the soldiers made fun of my supposed physical weakness? I don't remember you standing by my side."
"I had no choice, brother. I wasn't able to do it.“
Trálír did not tell his younger brother that their father had forbidden him to do so. Every time he tried to help Tearlách, Trálír the Elder threatened to punish the youngest son even more. To give him an explanation as to why it had been impossible for him, Trálír decided to blame it on his father's expectations.
„Ever since I was born, I've been training for an inheritance that I won't be able to take up in 500 years because father has no interest whatsoever in giving up his throne. Fine, let him do it, I don't care in the slightest, I don't want this inheritance. I don't want to have to carry this damn burden and nothing is further from my mind than following in the footsteps of our ancestors.
I've been trained for decades to fight, I've had to endure countless hours of history, politics, taxes. I live in a swamp of expectations that I don't want to fulfill. And yet I am forced to do so. The only reason I walk on these lands is because he wanted an heir and that was the only thing I should focus on. There was no room for anything else. There wasn't even room for you."
Trálír's voice had become louder and Tearlách watched his face contort with anger.
"Then take the throne," Tearlách whispered, looking at him challengingly. "Take what's rightfully yours."
"What?" Trálír stared at his younger brother, stunned.
"You heard me. Take the throne. I will stand by your side."
Shaking his head, the older elf raised his hand. "Enough, Tearlách. I'll forget you ever uttered those words."
"And instead you just want to carry on like this? Always standing in the shadow of the great and all-powerful Trálír the Elder? Everyone in these lands knows that he is not a good ruler. Why don't you have the courage to take what is rightfully yours?"
"It's not my place to usurp a throne," Trálír replied through clenched teeth.
"Even if you are by far the better and fairer ruler?"
The firstborn took a deep breath. "That's not up for discussion, Tearlách."
"I see it differently, because I see that everything father does goes against your values. We know of the injustices, we know of his hatred towards the half-elves and the humans. And yet we remain silent? Why do you still allow it when you could change it to the better?"
Trálír shook his head in frustration. "I'm not going to continue this discussion, Tearlách. I will not take the throne by force, not under any circumstances."
"You're just a coward, Trálír. And you don't dare do what you want. Such as taking over the throne that is rightfully yours, Father could retire. If you despise all this so much, why don't you leave it behind? Why do you stay here, in this castle, so caught up in all the expectations of others? Why don't you go to your human lover, take her by the hand and disappear with her? Leave everything behind you, flee. Why are you torturing yourself by fulfilling these expectations?"
"Enough!" shouted Trálír, pointing at the door. He had difficulty suppressing his anger. "That's enough. I don't want to hear another word you say! Get out!"
Tearlách clenched his lips in frustration, stood up and left his older brother's room without another word.
*****
The Second Born was filled with hot anger and as he walked down the long corridor, a sense of humiliation filled him at Trálír's refusal to put his proposal into action. In doing so, he offered his older brother the way out he so desperately wanted. If they stood up to their father, if he helped Trálír take the throne, then they would both have a future. Even if he would rather live out his existence as a hunter and tracker, the Firstborn would still be a good ruler. Anyone could be a better ruler than Trálír the Elder. Even Zariel, the Lady of Avernus, would be better than his father, Tearlách thought angrily. He reached the grand staircase, descended it past his father and his men and pushed open the door to the castle kitchen.
Startled, the cook, servants and maids stared at the lord's son as he stepped into the room.
He looked around and when his eyes fell on the young kitchen maid Serah, he pointed at her with his index finger.
"You! Come here!" Tearlách ordered.
Serah, a girl of only 16 and only at the castle since last summer, looked at him in horror.
She knew about him and the things he did. There were two or three maids who indulged his desires and made a small fortune out of it, but others feared him like the devil fears the light.
Serah had heard whispered words in the servants' quarters, words that spoke of pain and humiliation, of tears and agony suffered.
And when the young girl looked into the amber eyes glittering with anger, she knew that all these words were true.
Seeking help, she looked at the cook, who lowered her head and avoided her gaze. The other servants did the same.
Serah suppressed her rising sobs and walked slowly towards her master.
"Faster!" Tearlách ordered and grabbed her upper arm as she came within his reach. Without another word, he left the castle kitchen, dragging the girl behind him as she stumbled over her long skirt. Tearlách opened the door to the storeroom and strode down, dragging the frightened maiden behind him.
As they walked through the darkness, he pushed her in front of him and pressed her violently against the cold and cracked wall. She was rigid with fear as Tearlách tore at his pants, freeing his member. With one hand, he grabbed the back of Serah's neck and pressed her face against the cold stone while he lifted her skirt with his right hand.
"Hells," he cursed through clenched teeth when he noticed the underwear she was wearing. Impatiently, he tore at the thin material and carelessly threw the fabric on the floor.
His fingers slipped between her legs and Serah pressed her body against the wall, an inner instinct to escape from the situation.
"Oh my Love," Tearláchs voice was a breath of air against her ear, his words dark with lust. "You are not eager to see me, maid? I'm almost a little disappointed that such a young and pretty thing is so dried out between her legs like a withered plum. That won't necessarily be pleasant for you. But all the more satisfying for me.“
The maid stifled a sob and bit her lower lip so hard that it began to bleed to prevent her from bursting into tears. Tearlách put his head back and grinned when he pushed himself between her legs, his arousal pressing against her folds.
With just one powerful and relentless thrust, Tearlách slid into the young girl. He groaned again her neck when he felt how tight she was around his cock.
With long and powerful thrusts, he pinned the whimpering girl against the wall.
The young elf quickened the pace and with a few merciless thrusts he speared the the maid deeper into the wall until he reached his climax and filled her womb with his seed. He let himself sink against her body and stroked her hair almost tenderly while Serah cried silently.
He slid out of her and noticed that his member was covered in a little blood. Surprised, he raised an eyebrow.
"A virgin? What a pleasant surprise. Go to the lord of the castle tomorrow, he'll give you a gold coin for your pleasure and the fact that I was your first," Tearlách whispered with a grin and pressed a kiss to the back of her head.
He knotted the leather waistband of his pants and left the crying girl behind him, who slumped down in the darkness of the storeroom and hid her face in her hands, sobbing.
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Thanks for reading the first part :) ❤️