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The entertainment yesterday evening had not been particularly brutal, just more of the same. More excess of food and wine; seemingly endless dances with indifferent partners to music from an orchestra of limited talent; followed with ‘performances’ by pleasure slaves: the younger males first, each successively reduced to tears until finally the evening culminated in Daemon’s demonstration of perfect control. In the past, sometimes, he would have been last, trading off with Daemon on those occasions when their respective Courts were visiting each other. But his legendary rages had left too many maimed or dead so Lucivar was spared the public sessions now. His own duties had waited until the Queen had retired for the night. Now, as the first pink streaks of dawn showed in the east, Lucivar slipped quietly out one of the country house’s back doors.
He skirted the stables, taking note of one empty stall, before he gathered himself for a leap upwards, wings spreading. He flew rapidly to the west, in the direction of a small lake nestled amidst gentle hills. Before long he arrived and hovered briefly taking the time to check the one he had found matched what Daemon had described. In the centre of the lake was a small island. A narrow causeway connected it to the southern shore of the lake; the different depth of water over the causeway showed in a paler blue marking the path; but this was only visible from the air. In the island's centre was a clearing but a thick stand of trees hid this from the shore so that nothing could be seen from ground-level. Lucivar back-winged to land in a quiet cove, then walked the short distance through the woods to the little stone cottage he had seen from the air. A dark bay gelding was loose in the pasture, the same he had seen Daemon ride over the last few days. He let himself in, walked past the kitchen to the bedroom that opened to the side, and then, when he did not find his brother, through to the bathroom at the rear. There he found Daemon asleep in a tub full of cool water.
A quick warming spell took care of the bathwater before Lucivar retraced his steps to the kitchen, where he collected a jug of clear cool water and a tray of fruit, pickles, a spicy sausage, and cheese. He tried to be quiet but expected Daemon would have roused, by the time he returned; a gentle snore indicated otherwise. Lucivar set his tray down, picked up a flannel and spied a bar of soap by the hand basin. He sniffed it and grinned: no harsh carbolic for his brother. This was a fine sandalwood scented soap fit for a gentleman. Lucivar slipped off his shirt, knelt by the bath, and dipped soap in water, worked up a lather, and began gently to stroke the cloth over his brother, feet first, up the calves, and across the thighs. He took great care around the groin, delicately soaping his brother’s testicles and cock with gentle hands, carefully massaging very lightly; Daemon would not thank him for any more. He continued his thorough cleansing, smoothing the flannel over Daemon’s stomach in circles before moving upward to his chest. Where he encountered hands not his own, and, looking up, a lazy golden gaze.
Lucivar surrendered the flannel and sat on the floor by the bath while Daemon wielded the cloth, efficiently soaping and rinsing.
“Let me,” he offered, when Daemon sat forward; and while Daemon concentrated on washing his hair, Lucivar used a loofah on his back.
One final rinse; but as Daemon started shifting position to rise, Lucivar shook his head, handing him a glass, before a short pass of his hands through the water and a quick spell cleaned the scum from the soap and the residue of the grime it had removed, and rewarmed the water.
“Water,” Daemon sighed after he took a sip, “beautiful water.” He drained the glass and held it out for Lucivar to refill.
“I thought you’d be thirsty; you drank nothing all night.”
“I could smell the safframate.”
“So that’s why you were such an enthusiastic participant,” replied Lucivar.
“Had I hesitated. I would have been forced to drink,” Daemon allowed. “As it is, a bitch simply got a different kind of ‘excitement’ than she originally anticipated.”
He drank another glass before trying the fruit and cheese; they chatted about trivialities while Lucivar ate the rest.
*Bed now, Bastard,* came on a dark thread when Lucivar held out the towel and his brother rose from the tub.
Lucivar sat while his brother fell back to sleep, before he tidied the bathroom, and fed and watered Daemon’s horse. As he walked back down the path to the cove where he had landed two hours before, he felt a tingling in his cock. It seemed the Court was awakening and someone was wondering, and calling. He sighed; but if they could find one, they would ask less about the other. His service to the bitches today protected his brother, just as yesterday's service by Daemon had shielded him. Lucivar's leap upwards was perfection and he circled the lake once before heading back to Court.