Twilight of Ivory

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for reviewing and showing interest in the story, I'm working hard. And just some insight into the background of the story and some of the dialogue: I like mpreg themes too, moreso N/C. I like to see how characters react to situations where the relationship is not necessarily consensual but stresses like having a child are factored in, so I think that's where my liking for these kinds of stories comes from. Also, I didn't want to feminize the male characters, so I included a lot of colloquial, somewhat crass dialogue that you usually don't see in AU fantasy-ish fiction. But I think it creates more realistic characters and keeps things lively. Hope you stick with me!

Lord Eulovanic ri Kieran was heir to his estate, a second son, Seur Lieutenant Colonel of the 15th Division of the Crown Army, and cousin to the King of Isormine. At the moment, he was dressed in army attire: standard-issue brown trousers, mud-splattered riding boots, coarse khaki-colored shirt, and a black traveling cloak. His chestplate and gauntlets, considered an impediment after the fight was over and done with, were strapped to his horse.

The villagers of this particular village had put up a fair amount of resistance. Besides fighting to claim the village as a subsidy of the Crown's, his soldiers had been equally eager to reach supplies and fresh food. They had been delayed for quite awhile, but in the end, it had been a rather hopeless case for the villagers. It was more difficult than Eulovanic had imagined, trying to overpower others with as few casualties as possible, but he and his men were well-trained.

His soldiers were already making camp in the middle of Town Square, he could hear them. The captives had been trussed and corralled, and they would remain that way until an Isormine Magistrate arrived. When he did, the village leaders would be made to sign a treaty signaling their obeisance to Isormine. Then, because the village had raised insurrectionary forces, it would also contain a clause requiring them to send a portion of their crops along with taxes for this harvest-year.

His cloak rustled as he bent down to the ground and checked the fallen boy's pulse. It was a little erratic, but otherwise normal. His gaze slid to the mark on the back of the boy's neck. His heart thudded.

"Captain." Eulovanic addressed the inferior still standing behind him.

"Yes, milord?"

"See to it that my tent is pitched and then report back to me with Teur Lieutenant-Colonel's review of our current state of affairs." He glanced around. "Your men. How serious are their wounds?"

"Concussion and superficial bleeding, milord. They should be alright once the field medic attends to them…and the daire, milord?"

"I will examine him personally." Eulovanic thought for a moment. "Also, Captain, send my apprentice to me. Tell her to bring first aid supplies."

His man, Prith, looked down in concern. "Is he badly injured, milord?"

"He's alright, but I daresay the back of his head needs some salve." Eulovanic had slammed the flat of his blade full against the boy's head to knock him unconscious. "Go on, Captain."

"Yes, milord." He turned away quickly to address his fellow soldiers in the fight that were still able to stand, telling them to pick up their comrades and do Eulovanic's bidding.

Eulovanic could hear the sounds of people filtering in and making camp growing louder. He was sure Oriken could run the operation smoothly. Oriken and Eulovanic were co-leaders of the Division, part of the "Seteur" system as it was called, and Eulovanic trusted his competence. They had been partners for nigh a year already.

Looking down at the daire boy again, he unclasped his traveling cloak and folded it into a rectangular-shaped bundle. He propped the boy's head up and then carefully laid him back onto the makeshift pillow. There was a sheen of sweat over the boy's face. It made his skin glow

A daire. Eulovanic's mind was working fast. A daire, he could… Yes, he mustn't let this opportunity pass. There were so many special laws regarding the darra, and in his circumstances, they all worked to his benefit. He wouldn't have to marry the little troublemaker to have legitimate heirs; the boy would be acknowledged by law as his mate--somewhere in-between a lover and a spouse, and so no one could pressure him to marry for decorum; his sensibilities ran towards males anyway; and above all, he would be delivered a healthy and blessed child.

Eulovanic was legitimate owner of Fief Kieran and the estate. It was because of the tragedy that had befell him only a year ago, and after that, the expectations made of him and the responsibilities he had to face were exponential.

Eulovanic's brother, the first son, had died of illness a year previously, similar to how their parents had perished. Eulovanic had been at Court when Kurovanic's death had occurred. At the time, he had been a rising participant in court politics, growing closer and closer to the king and his council everyday, as well as a trainee under Lieutenant General Plikeo. As a second son, he had not been landed or titled, and had been forced to make a name for himself. Kurovanic's death and the accompanying detail that the estate and fiefdom were now his was a startling revelation.

Despite their parents' poor health, Kurovanic's illness was sudden and had been an immense shock to Eulovanic. He himself had been sickly as a child, but Kurovanic had been quite robust.

In fact, when he was six, Eulovanic was sent to the seaside in an attempt to convalesce. There, he took up a lot of physical activity, and his body slowly strengthened. Beyond that, though, he imagined that it was mostly stubbornness, determination, and unwillingness to let something like sickness beat him that had really gotten him through it. Even as a child, he had wanted to be an officer and a part of the Court. Eventually, with some luck, that determination served him well and led him there: the Court, the Army, the securing of relatively good positions.

Then, quite suddenly, he'd been left with the vast lands and responsibilities of his brother's birthright. It was like a karmic reward that he had never asked for, and it was at the expense of something he had never wanted to give up. The brothers had been close, and it was only in the deepest, hidden away recesses of his being that Eulovanic had ever been jealous of Kurovanic's birthright, and nothing had ever grown to fruition from that feeling. He had loved his brother. All he remembered of his teenage years was horseback riding with him, talking with him.

Eulovanic had tried going back to manage the fiefdom. He'd lasted all of two months. The patience and drive he'd shown in the capital abandoned him utterly when he was in his parents' former study, putting down numbers for grain and farm tools and apple crops. Thankfully, his sister had a knack for numbers and public relations, and she'd nonchalantly picked up the job as head of household and manager in his place.

Ariane was eight years younger than he was, but she had already married two years ago, when Kurovanic had been alive and had arranged everything. To Eulovanic's disapproval, she had accepted the offer of the third son of Fief Jeordana. It was not a small estate by any means, but it was isolated and far to the South, and held few relations with the Crown. Furthermore, Ariane's fiancé had few aspirations; he was content to live on his brother-in-law's estate, only venturing forth occasionally with his wife to check on the tenants. Still, he was the man Ariane loved, and for all Eulovanic's qualms about his background, he treated her quite well and they were very happy.

Not that the daire he had discovered was from much better circumstances, even worse actually: an Aryaun peasant boy allied with insurrectionists.

However, his being darra more than redeemed these qualities. The only daire he even knew of had bore a child, named Seve, as heir to a duke in the east, nearly two generations ago. At the time, there had been serious discontent between Isormine and Tyre, a country to the North, and many border skirmishes had occurred. Duke Seve had been a good combatant and rider, and he had also been head of the party dispatched to settle with the Tyrean officials. Negotiations had been successful, and Seve had been personally honored by the Crown.

It was true, then, what was said about the darra and their ability to pass on fortuitous traits to their children; but it was also true what was said about their rarity. Although two generations had already passed, none of Seve's descendents were marked with the sign of the daire, much to the Crown's chagrin.

And now, he had found one, and at the perfect time. He was wanting of an heir. Ariane and Paulorai refused to have any--they were such a contrary couple, sometimes his dearest wish was to throttle them--and even if they did, should Eulovanic establish their issue as his heir, the regent would have no access to his Crown allowance nor a place in the line of succession. This was per the statutes written in the Crown Charter.

So Eulovanic had finally resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing for it but to get married and produce a successor. He had delayed for months already, although he wasn't wanting for potential brides; at the Court socials, he was fairly inundated with eligible young ladies.

He didn't kid himself that they were attracted to him as a person. One fearless girl had actually told him flat-out that he had the personality of a rock and she'd rather marry a squirrel. (She rather reminded him of Ariane.) Needless to say, it pleased him to think that he need not return to that feeding nest of ravenous, beribboned young ladies.

"Aman?"

The sullen voice of his fourteen year old magician-apprentice broke into his thoughts. Jorella was a red-haired girl with violet-brown eyes, a symbol of her magic, and she had been conscripted into his service by order of the King. Jorella had been less than happy with this arrangement, and for the entire duration of the journey since, had exhibited an acrimonious attitude towards anyone in sight. Eulovanic was told by Prith (in a furtive mutter in the black of night; it was said that Jorella was quite adept at casting curses) that she had been halfway in love with the Master Magician, Drae, and had been irate at being told to leave him for the backwoods of Aryau. Eulovanic thought this was amusing but never approached his apprentice about it.

"Jorella, check on this boy for me," he told her.

She grunted and went gingerly to her knees beside him. "You want me to heal him?" she asked.

"If you can."

"Of course I can," she said crossly, and then she raised her hand over the boy's head and a soft lilac glow was emitted. The boy stirred but made no sound. The glow faded and Jorella drew her hand back.

"Anything else?" she said.

"Yes. A spell to prevent his escape."

Jorella frowned. "What's so special about this Aryaun?" she asked, casting a doubtful look in his direction.

"He is a daire." Eulovanic tilted the boy's head over carefully to show her his mark.

Jorella's eyes widened. "Darra? Here?"

"Yes. He will be with us for a time. You should take to studying him if circumstances permit it."

Jorella looked astounded that there was an actual daire in front of her. It was the first time that Eulovanic had seen Jorella with an expression devoid of hostility, but she quickly shook herself out of it and began setting the geis.

"It'll work for about a month," she commented once the lilac glow had faded from her hands again.

"That's good enough. We'll be back in the capital by then, I'm sure."

Jorella's hands fell to her lap and she clenched her robes. "We're going back?" she exclaimed.

"This was the last outpost for our division. I expect Oriken and I will split the men and leave separately."

"Really, aman?" Two firsts in one day; Jorella actually sounded excited. "Will we be the ones leaving first?"

Eulovanic glanced down at the boy with his light brown hair, tanned skin, and exquisite face structure. "I plan on it," he replied affirmatively.

Yes, he planned on a lot of things.