[b][u][center]The Distractions of Affection
Part 1
for a-lycotonum
by Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]








"[i]I tell you, I saw him. He's here, in Westcrown.[/i]"

The Lord Gralon Brundir was grateful that his agent couldn't see him; she would have been more than a trifle offended at the exhaustion and annoyance that expressed itself through the long sigh and heavy hand over his face. The aasimar took a deep breath as she continued to insist that she had seen the comrades of her assigned target, that the were-rat was out there, that there were others in the coastal great city of Cheliax. Neena clearly expected enthusiasm on his part, perhaps even a reward. 

If it had been the first time that she had seen Vitus, he would have considered it. As it stood, she had tried to 'solve' his problems a half-dozen times in the last week, and every time, her solutions had been as wrongheaded as one could be, from telling him that ravens would solve the vermin problem around the warehouses down on the coast to saying that he could get a new pack of hellhounds and use them to track Vitus down, using like to find like. 

For all that Neena was an adventurous soul, and for that matter, enthusiastic to follow his will without him having to add a compulsion to the mix, she was not particularly intelligent, and it showed in the solutions that she was constantly offering for attention. She was a prime example of why aasimar attraction was not always a good thing for those involved. 

"Until you have him in hand, do not contact me again," Gralon said. 

"[i]But -[/i]"

"Until at least a week has passed, or you have him in hand, do not contact me again."

"[i]...Yes, Master.[/i]"

The modified Sending spell ended, and he was alone in his library once more. The soft rustle of the books on high were his only companion...for a time. 

"[b]One might think that you're wavering from your cause,[/b]" a familiar voice whispered in his ear. 

"That is beyond your purview."

"[b]You are useful. You have given us much. But if you -[/b]"

The aasimar reached over his shoulder, seizing the throat of what he had gotten for the trade of his deva. The minor devil gasped for breath as he closed his fingers around the ephemeral being's throat, his own power more than sufficient to get a grip on something that otherwise would have faded into smoke and shadow. He pulled it down slowly, twisting his head around to meet its glowing yellow eyes with his own shimmering white ones. The devil, as always, looked back at him with as much fear as it did natural condescension. 

"You are not here to tell me what to do with my heart. You are here to advise me as to the whims of those below. You tell me what they want. You do not tell me what I want."

The devil nodded rapidly, and Gralon released him, shaking his head as he looked down at his book of accounts again. The numbers were all but rolling off the page, debts of dozens, perhaps hundreds of minor and major officials throughout Absalom that were all to him. They had come to him, asking favors, funds, all kinds of things for their ambitions, hoping for the aid of the retired hero. 

Of course, he had given it to them, stating that he would care for the debt and that they would pay him back, either in funds or favors, when the time came. They had signed the contracts, even, all but the brightest not bothering to read them, and the brightest that did were confident that they could fulfill the conditions. 

They would, of course, just not how they initially imagined doing so. 

He kept staring down at the pages, trying to pull the satisfaction of the plan coming together from the nearly-arcane accounting work. Such efforts and investments had to be carefully hidden, after all, and the bookwork had always pleased him, giving him a sense of something logical and real to hang his hat on, to point to and say that this was the result of his planning. Never before had it failed to bring a smile to his face. 

But it joined the pile of the many things that used to bring him pleasure that no longer did. The numbers were clinical, little more than the scratches of a hen on the earth beneath its talons. Their meaning was factual, nothing more, and it touched nothing for him. 

Few things had, he supposed. Ever since Vitus had escaped. 

He shook his head, shutting the book as he got to his feet. His hooves clicked on the hard stone floor of the library, the only announcement that the more spiritual things that wandered its aisles would get of his approach. He gathered the great white robe that he wore as the mark of office that he unofficially had, tying it around his waist and hiding his flesh beneath it. Several things took more hiding than others, and he tugged the tie around the waist that little bit tighter. The soft, if heavy, silk folds fell over his thighs, hiding that which had come up during his talk with Neena in hopes that were so swiftly dashed. 

The devil floated at his side, concealed beneath the aura of the 'deva' that everyone else saw. They expected to see it, so the illusion was that much stronger as a result. He looked at the floating ball, as if daring it to say something, anything, but it had learned the lesson of silence once more. 

They walked through the library halls, the flutter-flutter of floating books, the click-clack of some enchanted tomes clicking shut on his approach, and the tap, tap, tap of his hoofbeats all there was to be heard. However, they weren't enough to silence the thoughts flicking through his head. 

[i]He hates me.[/i]

That was the realization that he had come to over the last few weeks. Ever since Vitus had fled, he'd tried to avoid that particular thought, but despite it all, it was still there, and likely undeniable despite his various attempts to twist it back around again. 

[i]Fact. Vitus is afraid of me.[/i]

And would remain so until he was able to put his hands on the hellhound and help him learn again. They'd shared intimate moments, many of them, and he had hoped that it would be enough to convince the young man to come to his side. The demon within had been useful, something that he'd assumed was leashed, but he'd been wrong. The power of the Demon Lords was something that he'd underestimated. 

Not next time. 

Not again. 

As they left the library and walked through the great halls of his manor, Gralon took himself towards the stairs, choosing a balcony at random as his eventual destination. The 'deva' floated at his side the whole way there, as silent as the grave, as was only proper. Servants, glass-eyed and empty-minded, barely glanced at him as he passed them. They had long-since given up the will to pay attention to him. 

For them, he was a ghost. 

He reached the second floor of the manor, leaning on the railing of his chosen balcony. It overlooked a white rose garden, something that he had ordered planted more for the sake of security than anything else. Druids that owed him favors had placed a great number of spells on the garden plot, ensuring that anything that came to his estate from the east side would have to contend with many snares and thorns, and more, if they wished to see him. 

Every section of his estate was likewise trapped, but that was only the first layer of his security. He looked past his grounds at the guesthouses, knowing that each one held a being that had long ago been turned to a flesh-house for a spirit or elemental, each one bound to serve him by Absalom law. Past that, the great fences of spellwork that lay in runes and plants and more that ran between the elaborate shrine-posts that most assumed were merely there as a tribute to the old celestial bloodline he had. If only they knew...

But it wasn't enough. In Absalom, power flowed and strength shifted by the minute. There was every possibility that someone - including the greater powers at the Arcanamirium - might discover his plan and push back at him. He needed to have layers of defense. 

And that was why his Citadel plan had been in play, even when Vitus had been under him, even when Cazna had been his supposed slave. A conqueror could not have too many contingencies. 

"[b]May I speak?[/b]" 

"Do so."

"[b]Those beneath will wish something soon. My lord, Dispater -[/b]"

"Who understands my heartbreak."

"[b]...He does. But that is neither here nor there.[/b]"

"Then speak of what [i]is[/i] here."

"[b]You promised law. Do you bring that?[/b]

"Obviously."

"[b]You promised power. Do you have it?[/b]"

Gralon smiled. He gestured out past the guesthouses and the limits of his property. The great spires of Absalom rose in the distance, from the many tiers and towers of the Arcanamirium to the temples of the endless gods of the world that all had a presence in the greatest of cities. As he waved his hand, the lights of souls and spirits that were so deep in debt to him that they might as well have been in his pockets already shimmered to life. They shined through stone and steel, through wood and leaf, leaving the city awash in a rainbow of life auras. 

"All of them are mine, in ink, blood, and soul. I need only call them."

"[b]Yet you wait.[/b]"

"Do you hunger for sacrifices? I thought you were better than that. Demons hunger for scraps; devils wait for the feast."

"[b]Do not think that you can keep us back by pride alone.[/b]"

"Not alone. You'll get someone, soon enough. A bishop, I think. Someone that you will enjoy breaking...and converting."

He had several in mind, including one for a certain elf god that had become rather irritating of late. Most of those indebted to him had been more than willing to convert to his wishes, to do little favors to keep the debts from mounting higher. This one - a bishop of Erastil, if he remembered correctly, though the elf-god names shifted so often and so frequently between the little spirits that rose and fell among their afterlife - was one that had held out, using his connections with the city to avoid meetings with the aasimar to actually discuss their debt. 

It was time to give him over. It would keep the devils happy, and they would have someone else to work their will of corruption. He smiled, remembering Vitus's history with a young woman of the Erastil faith; he wondered if such an act would make the hellhound happy, to know that his former master was taking steps against the very god that had ripped his former love from him. 

Gralon shook his head. Love, so sweet, was not what they should be thinking about now. He had a plan to follow through on. He should continue it. 

It was the effort of but a moment to call the twins to him. Their souls, like so many others, were bonded to him through ink and blood, and they knew to run when he wished. The sister came faster, her soul already burning with need, while the brother had to be pulled. 

It was something to look at, but later. Much later. 

For now, he had time to think of Vitus, of the hound that had carried his leash, and all the plans that he still had for him. 

#

The twins arrived with little fanfare, as was appropriate. He turned from the railing as he felt them arrive, looking at the door and the twin plants that stood like guards on either side of it. 

They were the Halstad twins, Mika and Sivar. The former was a young woman that he had found in the courts, one with a quick mind but less ambitious than most. She would have never naturally risen that far in the court system, not with the various cutthroats all around her all vying for the same positions, but once they had met, he knew that she had the right sort of mind for his purposes. All she needed was the right push. 

Now, she stood in the deep gray robes of the Absalom court justices, wearing the gold bands that ran through her hair and dangled from the sides of her face down to her jawline, each side weighted heavily and elaborately with different gems, each a different color to represent the different gods and beliefs. She smiled at him as she bowed, her robe opening slightly as she stood up, showing more bosom than any city official would normally dare put on display. Gralon knew that it was for his benefit; her ambitions had been fed with more than just the urge for power. 

Sivar, on the other hand...

He narrowed his eyes at the were-rat that leaned against the door-frame. Unlike his sister, Sivar had been a problem from day one. Part of Mika's price to serve him had been the wish to get her brother out of prison. Gralon had considered leaving him there and moving on, as the brother had been sentenced to such time for maliciously spreading his were-rat curse to more than twenty young men and women in the city, but there was always something that could be made useful in a thug like that. 

The brown-furred rat had bright red eyes, though that was from the incubus that Gralon had shoved down Sivar's throat. The demon had been a means of keeping the young man under control, both his and Mika's, and particularly kept him focused on lust rather than power. Even now, the rat's cock was rising from his sheath, putting the disdain in his eyes down with the lustful need that the demon always had. 

Mika bowed again. 

"Master, how may we serve?" she asked. 

"Report on the property seizures."

"Oh...yes. Those."

"Heh, yeah. Those." Sivar chuckled. "What else did you think he was going to ask for?"

"I was hoping - Master. I apologize. My fantasies -"

Gralon held up his hand to stop the apologies before they started. 

"Yes. Sorry. Master, we have been quite successful. More than two dozen property deeds have been sorted out, and the last few are almost sorted through the court even now. They won't even bother your bottom line."

"And how many are left?" Gralon asked. 

"...One," Mika admitted.

"And the issue..."

"The asshole who owns it has too much pride to sell to 'humans,'" Sivar said while Mika hemmed and hawed. "Or even aasimar."

"...Is that so?"

"He - ah - he doesn't seem to understand your grace and power, Master," Mika said. "And for that, I can only apologize. I did my best to explain how it would be in his best interests to sell, and that you would hold it with pride, but -"

"But we're dealing with an elf," Gralon said.

"...Yes, Master."

"And not just an elf, but an elf supremacist, if I remember Lord Manea correctly."

Mika said nothing, but her brother nodded, chuckling under his breath. No surprise. The judge had to keep her neutrality to some extent, just in case the records were ever checked, but her brother had no such compunctions on the matter. 

The aasimar considered his options. Lord Manea's lands were adjacent to the road that led up to his property, and while they did not constitute a full weakness in his defenses, they did offer a shortcut to the actual core protections that he had tried to layer. It was not something that he could ignore and move on, particularly as the elf in question was someone that believed himself better to all, though he was...

Gralon tapped his chin. They did have an option, cruel as it was. Lord Manea had a daughter, and that daughter, according to rumor, was even more steeped in prejudice than her father. That might be useful. 

He glanced at Sivar, and the were-rat met his eyes. The demon within glowed for a moment, and he could tell that it was eager to be let loose again. 

"This is why I had you freed, Sivar. Accompany your sister and make it happen."

"Heh, me? Why me?"

"You know."

"...Oh. Oh ho ho, you're letting me -"

"Your sister will tell you when. And you will restrict yourself to one victim. But you will."

"...This day just got a hell of a lot better."

"Master -"

Whatever Mika was going to say didn't matter. He held up his hand, stopping her in her tracks, and she lowered her head immediately. 

"I need his estate. One way or another, he will hand it over today."

"Yes, Master."

"If you can solve it with a talk, that's wonderful. I will reward you. If not, then you will unleash your brother and let it happen another way."

"Yes, Master."

"And when you return..."

He reached out and lifted her chin, making her meet his eyes again. He intentionally pushed his focus on her, his will, and she gasped as she met his eyes. The slight white glow that always came from his servants' eyes when he focused his willpower on them filled her gaze, and she shivered, happily leaning into his touch. 

"When you return, you will be rewarded accordingly. Both of you."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master!"

The twins turned to leave, with the sister all but running and the brother trailing behind. That long, bald tail lingered in the doorway for too long, and he knew that despite his interest, Sivar was still going to be a roadblock towards progress. It was something that he'd have to accept for the thug to get his job done. 

He turned back to the railing with a sigh, leaning against it as he stared out at the world below. Once more, he wished that he had his hound back. Vitus would have been so much better suited for this. The hound had a way to him that attracted people that were interested.

It certainly attracted him. 

#

Sivar walked behind his sister as they marched up the great walkway of the elf lord's plant estate. Rather than the typical house that littered the rich district of the city, this one was covered with sprawling plants that had become part of the architecture. Great hoops of vines rose up and then leaned on each other to create archways leading up to the house, and the house itself was more of a great collection of interwoven trees, creating empty spaces between the trunks as well as chambers within them. Spread around outside of that were nests of woven reeds that had been upsized past the growth capability of any real plant, as well as intelligent flowers that watched their progress. 

"This ass has money to burn," Sivar muttered. 

"The records say that he did spend a great deal of the Master's money on hiring druids to accomplish all this."

"Fucking hell."

"The money that the Master hands out can be spent as any of them wish."

"Yeah, doesn't mean that it was a good decision."

He deliberately stomped on one red rose, feeling it crush to nothing more than flower-slime and petal-juice beneath his bare foot. The mess and muck joined the rest of the slime and dust that he had picked up walking through the city, probably something else that he'd have one of the many whores he'd made lick off later. He liked seeing the pretty ladies and up-themselves men debase themselves by licking filth off a rat's foot. Heh. They loved it, too, by the time that he was done with them. 

As he followed behind his sister, he could feel the few elf gardeners along the pathway looking at him, judging the stranger that followed the more official, more 'acceptable' human judge. He stood as if he were her bodyguard, but he knew that wouldn't mean anything to them. They just saw the rat. 

He didn't care. He was a rat. So what? That was what he had become, what he liked being. At least he was honest about the dirt on his soul. 

Not like the master. 

The demon inside of him stirred at that. He felt the ties that bound him to it, the rush of lust and need that always hit him when the demon was more active, and he growled and hissed between clenched teeth as his sheath started to fill and extend. The large pink shaft was always soaked with sheath-slime and pre-cum, but the feeling of it coming out in public was always so deliciously sinful and messy. Several oozing strings passed over the rim of his sheath, drooling to the cobblestones below, and more than a few gardeners blushed, huffing as they looked away from him. 

"Heh, they'd be even more pissed if they saw what I really wanted to do," he muttered. 

"Control yourself, Sivar. Master might not be able to free you a second time."

"You know why we're here."

"Let me try, first."

"Oh, you can [i]try.[/i] I'm still the one that'll get it done."

He knew that Mika still didn't entirely like what he did, but she admitted that it was useful to their master's cause. The fact that he was able to turn others with ease was something that intimidated others, and the fact that the incubus hosted in him increased that power, allowing him to do it with nothing more than a kiss, made it all the better. 

After all, what other were-rat could do that? What proof did anyone have that [i]he[/i] had been the one to make someone into a were-rat, a dirty little fuck-slut of a thing? What proof did they have that he was back to his old tricks?

The answer? They had none. 

They reached the front door of the house, and a taller than average elf dressed in armor that looked like folded leaves in layers, pressed flat and oiled until they shined like metal, held out a hand to stop them. 

"Who calls on the great lord Florec Manea?" the guard asked. 

"Judge Mika Halstad, and her bodyguard, Sivar Halstad."

"The lord is not taking callers at this time."

"It is a matter of great urgency. We carry suit from Lord Gralon Brundir."

The name of the aasimar was as good as a skeleton key for getting them into a place that they had no right being, and this was no exception. The elf guard hesitated for a moment, only to step aside. 

"He is in the Chamber of the Fallen Leaves."

"I know it. Thank you."

The guard gave him a glare, but Sivar was used to that. The city militia had done that time and time again, and one of their commanders - a Piers Adair, if he remembered right - had been quite clear about their disdain. One time that he'd been caught, Piers had all but curb-stomped him for raping a young woman and trying to sell her as a slave afterward. The way that he had been so angry...

Mmm, it had been delicious. Particularly considering the way that the human had stared at the other, unturned slaves. Oh, that man would have fucked any one of them at that moment, rutted them like the beast that he was inside. It was only the [i]beasts[/i] that didn't deserve that sort of attention. Only the beasts that could be beaten like the man had beaten him. 

If he ever saw him again...

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the moment at hand. They were inside the great tree, and they had passed through several rooms on the way to this chamber. He looked up as they stepped through another door, Mika's body language telling him that they had arrived. He looked up at the slits in the branches above, seeing the sunlight coming through, then looked down at the man that they were there to meet. 

Well, elf. Florec Manea was only middle-aged as the knife-eared fucks went, but that still meant that he was centuries older than anyone else that the rat knew. He was blonde - why not? They all were - and blue-eyed, and he wore a red and gold robe that would have cost Sivar more than three years of wages. He looked down a pointed nose that looked like someone had taken scissors to in order to get that perfect angle, and sniffed as he and his sister approached. 

"Lord Brundir has the city judges doing his busywork now?" Lord Manea asked. "I suppose I'm not surprised."

"We come to make the offer again, lord." Mike bowed her head, holding one hand back to keep Sivar quiet. "I had hoped that you would be willing to see reason. Lord Brundir -"

"Is little more than a jumped-up creature from another plane. He barely understands the concepts of being truly living, let alone the wealth that I have invested in this estate. And now, he wishes to buy it from me? And at a pittance, besides."

"If the matter is merely money -"

"It is hardly [i]merely[/i] money. Do you not understand? He is an [i]aasimar,[/i] while I am an elf. We were here long before them. We were here long before you, and certainly before that beast that follows you."

"My brother is a free man," Mika said, and Sivar almost smiled at his sister's protectiveness. "I would thank you to refer to him properly."

"I do not need your thanks, so you'll have no need to give them. Besides, I would not sell to you, and I would sell to humans long before I would to something from [i]outside[/i] this world."

"Ugh. Humans? Daddy, why are you allowing [i]them[/i] in the house again?"

A new voice, though not unexpected. Sivar's cock throbbed, coming to life and sliding through his belly-fur as he hunched forward slightly, the small hump in his shoulders that all weres shared pushing him to lean forward as if ready to lunge for their prey. He grinned as his sister rested a hand on his chest, holding him back, keeping him from doing anything just yet. If it wasn't for the incubus in him being magically bound to her command, he knew that he would have already been going for her. 

A new elf walked out of a side-door half-hidden behind a tree trunk. She was obviously younger, probably barely an adult by elf-standards, and while she wore robes of the same color as Lord Manea, they were of softer construction, obviously padded to enhance a bust that wasn't quite there, and with a flowingness to them that made her look more feminine. The elf leaned on her father's arm, squeezing it. 

"Daddy, do we have to let them in? They stink."

"...You would be Tabitha," Mika said. 

"Don't even talk to me, human. Human voices could corrupt my ears with their foulness."

Despite the situation, Sivar's grin was only getting bigger. It wasn't even because of the outrageous racism from the elf girl, but more the feeling of impending satisfaction. He knew - he [i]knew[/i] - that his sister wouldn't be able to keep up a good negotiation here, not when this little bitch was the one that was talking. Glancing at Lord Manea, he could see that the elf lord wasn't going to be stopping her, either. There was too much of a hidden smile on that face, too much unspoken approval at his daughter's outrageous behavior. 

Hell, he could smell the arrogance coming off them. Elves; they had the chance to be the best, but all that they did with their long lives and stupid advantages was hoard their good things and lord it over everyone else. The few good ones that actually did things for others were all but disowned, far as he could tell. 

Well, he could take some little bit back today. 

"Now?" he whispered. 

"Don't. We can still -"

"Daddy, don't they look ridiculous?"

"..." 

"Look at her. Why does she dress like that? She looks like some little rabbit with golden ears," the daughter said. 

"It's how the judges look, Tabitha. They have to dress like that."

"They allow [i]humans[/i] to be judges? They might as well have a rabbit on the bench, then. At least they aren't so barbaric, or so ugly."

"..."

"Look at her. Look how fat she is. She can't hide it in that robe. And -"

"Sivar?" Mika said, interrupting the diatribe. 

"How dare you speak over me?! I wasn't done insulting you. Shut your mouth, or I - I - I will shut it for you."

Tabitha pulled herself away from her father, her slender arm rising up. Sivar was tempted to let her do what she wanted to his sister, all things considered, but - 

The hand came down. It didn't meet Mika's face. 

Instead, he was in the way, his furred, clawed, matted hand grabbing hold of her wrist before it could reach his sister's face. Tabitha stared, her eyes wide in shock. He wondered if anyone had dared stop her from doing what she wanted before; probably not, considering the way that her father stared at him in almost identical fashion.

"Mika?" he asked. 

"Do it."

"Heh."

"Unhand me! Let me go, you vile beast! I - I'll have to bathe for hours to get your slime off my wrist, and - no, no, get away, get - MMPH!"

In the past, Sivar had always chosen his victims from those that had something to lose, those that looked down on others. The whole point was to take them down a peg, but Tabitha? She needed to be taken off the mountain. What had once taken a full rape and bite could now be accomplished with nothing more than a kiss…but that didn’t mean that he kept it chaste, not by any means. 

He pulled the spoiled elf brat to him, his lips to hers, his maw spread wide across her face. Not one tooth pricked her skin, not one fang broke flesh, but his tongue forced its way past her lips. She all but drowned in his drool, and as he kissed her, the demon worked. The incubus’s heat rushed through him, flooding his body, making him sweat and stink, but at the same time, it flowed through the link with her. She squirmed for half a second before going limp in his hands, her body sagging, only held up with his grip around her waist. 

“Let her go!” 

Her father was too late. The kiss was all he needed. 

Sivar laughed as he let her go, the elf woman falling to her knees. She stared straight ahead, her mouth hanging open, and it wasn’t just his drool that oozed from her lips and stained her chest. No, that was hers, dumb and thick and coming out as she was heating up from the inside. 

He’d seen the new transformation time and time again. He’d done things that he doubted that his sister realized in the service of Lord Brundir, making the master’s will manifest throughout the city. However, he’d never quite looked forward to the transformation as much as he did at this moment. 

Tabitha Manea was a greater brat than any previous victim. She [i]needed[/i] to be broken in…and this would do it. 










[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: And we are back to Brundir, showing what the aasimar is up to, and how he’s handling the city. 

Tags: M/F, M/solo, Kiss, Naked, Nudity, Shameless, Exhibitionism, Were-Rat, Wererat, Rat, Human, Elf, Racism, Series, Aasimar, Devil, Demon, Pre-Cum, Erection,