The McFassii (yes that’s what I took to calling the bastards) wore me out.
So it’s nap time!
Sylum Inspiration: Elizabeth of Aragon
Integridad: Member
Born in 1271 into the royal house of Aragon, Elizabeth was the daughter of Infante Peter (later King King Peter III) and his wife Constance of Sicily and the sister of three kings: Alfonso II and James II of Aragon and Frederick III of Sicily.
Elizabeth showed an early enthusiasm for her faith. She said the full Divine Office daily, fasted and did other penance, as well as attended twice-daily choral Masses. Religious fervor was common in her family, as she could count several members of her family who were already venerated as saints. The most notable example is her great-aunt, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, after whom she was named.
Her marriage to King Denis of Portugal was arranged in 1281 when she was 10 years old, receiving the towns of Óbidos, Abrantes and Porto de Mós as part of her dowry. It was only in 1288 that the wedding was celebrated, when Denis was 26 years old, while Elizabeth was 17. Denis, a poet and statesman, was known as the Rei Lavrador (English: Farmer King), because he planted a large pine forest near Leiria to prevent the soil degradation that threatened the region.
Elizabeth quietly pursued the regular religious practices of her youth and was devoted to the poor and sick. Naturally, such a life was a reproach to many around her and caused ill will in some quarters. Eventually, her prayer and patience succeeded in converting her husband, who had been leading a sinful life.
Elizabeth took an active interest in Portuguese politics and was a decisive conciliator during the negotiations concerning the Treaty of Alcañices, signed by Denis and Sancho IV of Castile in 1297 (which fixed the borders between the two countries). In 1304, the Queen and Denis returned to Spain to arbitrate between Fernando IV of Castile and James II of Aragon, brother of Elizabeth.[4]
She had two children: Constance, who married King Ferdinand IV of Castile and Afonso, who became King Alfoso IV of Portugal.
Elizabeth would serve as intermediary between her husband and Afonso, during the Civil War between 1322 and 1324. The Infante greatly resented the king, whom he accused of favoring the king’s illegitimate son, Afonso Sanches. Repulsed to Alenquer, which supported the Infante, Denis was prevented from killing his son through the intervention of the Queen. As legend holds, in 1323, Elizabeth, mounted on a mule, positioned herself between both opposing armies on the field of Alvalade in order to prevent the combat. Peace returned in 1324, once the illegitimate son was sent into exile, and the Infante swore loyalty to the king.
It was after her husband’s death, she discovered Wenceslaus’ secret, who had come to pay his respects. They had met a few times over the years, both enjoying their discussion on faith and devotion.
He told her about Vampires and what it was like to live the life of a ‘Saint’. She thought about his story, and adored his Mate Cinderella. She prayed and soon knew her answer.
McFassy Fortnight: Wrap Up
Thank you for participating in McFassy Fortnight.
Believe it or not there is a method to the madness, and a reason for everything we do in Sylum. So yes, all these characters – this Family Dynasty – is all connected. As their stories start to be showcased and developed, you’ll start to see all the inter-workings.
We hope you enjoyed the glimpse of these characters, despite all the postings!!
Please leave any last thoughts, questions, or comments. There was a lot of information these past two weeks!
Next up: Sylum Advent
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser #3
Teaser Aesthetic #3
As a Jedi Knight, he was required to be as well versed as possible in the rituals and customs of places to which was was sent on diplomatic mission. It was mostly simple and straight forward, and there were times when he could clearly see the patterns in how belief systems and convictions worked their way into the consciousness of different peoples through different channels and different means. It would make for a fascinating study one day if he was ever sidelined into becoming and administrator or a teacher.
Not that he wanted such a role.
There was far too much else to learn, for him to settle down and live quietly.
Besides, he rather enjoyed the challenges of being a diplomat.
It wasn’t always boring meetings and politely misinterpreted commentary. Sometimes there was Lightsabers and actual battles to be waged.
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser #2
Teaser #2 Aesthetic
Jean Luc Picard stared at the person in front of them, wondering if he missed something in the briefing. He glanced at his second, trying not to snicker at Riker trying his hardest not to react.
“You’re late.” Riker pointed out, inwardly cringing at the accusation, he just had no idea what else to say. They had been at the Grey Heaven’s docks for an hour.
He was ignoring Picard’s side-eye, and the snickering he could hear from at least two of the crew members behind him.
“Wizards are never late, nor are we early. We arrive precisely when we are meant to.”
“Are you kidding me?” Riker shut his mouth in horror of what just came out of it. “I apologize, I didn’t quite get your name.”
“Gandalf.”
“Seriously?”
Picard glared at his second, then turned towards the wizard. And that was the thing, he was standing in front of a bonafide wizard. Not that it should be that shocking, he had actually met Dresdon once, add in his own family line that tied into Mutants, and Charles Xavier – seeing a wizard or an alien isn’t shocking.
It was the fact it was Gandalf the Grey.
As if he just stepped into the Lord of the Rings book.
Which considering the fact he knows Aragorn and Boromir – it still shouldn’t be shocking, but somehow this just seemed weirder than usual.
“Gandalf, I’m Captain Picard and we’ve been sent by the Federation, with cooperation from the Jedi Council to check on you and the inhabitants, as the Separatists have been moving through this territory and according to our briefing, this planet requests to be mostly left alone.”
“I had received reports from Yoda about this Separatist movement, but so far they have not shown themselves here, and if Dooku wants to try … well I kicked his ass when we were in classes.” Gandalf leaned against his staff.
“Wait your a Jedi?” Riker was now completely confused.
“Yes. How do you think I pull of the ‘Wizard’ part of this job. This planet is well protected, once they got rid of the …”
“One Ring?” He asked before he could stop himself.
“Yes.” Gandalf was giving Riker an odd look. “The people of Middle Earth came together, Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, and Man to dump the Ring into the fires of Modor. I’m not sure if it was destroyed, but the Goa’uld was not coming through it anymore that was for sure.”
“The one ring is a Stargate?” Riker couldn’t help the smile. “That’s amazing…”
Gandalf looked at Picard. “What is with him?”
“We have a book series, called The Lord of the Rings back on Earth – it’s the story of Frodo Baggins taking the One Ring to Modor to be destroyed, except it was an actual ring.”
“I could see that, considering how many of those were stolen from their homes. Then must know, from that moment on there has always a Frodo Baggins, Aragorn, and Gandalf … which at this moment in time is me.”
“You weren’t born Gandalf?” Picard asked.
“Heaven’s no. I fit the part, and accepted the role. This is more my retirement. It’s usually very quiet only times when the Dragon acts up, or the Elves and Dwarves poke at each other. But if these Separatists think they can come here to cause havoc. The people of this world will unite and fight back.”
“Would you show us around?” Picard asked, shocking Riker. “We can change if need be.”
“Sure. You can play the role of Rangers.” He grinned waving his staff, motioning for them to follow.
“Sir…” Riker stepped closer to him, voice quiet.
“Tell the men we’ll be staying for a while.” Picard informed him. “It will just be you and me.”
“What is going on?”
“What’s going on is, I just found my Mate, and he’s a wizard.”
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser – Duncan/Macbeth/Leto II
It was an old song, written millennia ago for Saint Alia of the Knife, famed Aunt to Leto II, and sister to Maud’dib.
The people had sung it in their market places, and at great celebrations in her honor.
Inama nushif
Al asir hiy ayish
She is eternal
No malice can touch
Duncan had read about her in the Archives left to his care at Dar-Es-Balat by the God Emperor himself in those final days before His Division in the desert.
He’d read about a lot of things that might otherwise have been left to the sands, and was made the wiser in so doing, for he knew more of the history and legacy of Arrakis than any other living Soul by the time of Leto’s re-emergence from the deep Sareer.
And that knowledge made him as dangerous as he was clever.
The last of a long line of men who bore the name Idaho, Duncan had become the most respected advisor in the Court of the Divided One.
It was a name that rather amused him, considering what had happened so very recently to actually unite him that much closer to those who were already his lovers.
Through their Bond, he could sense contentment and peace.
Which he took to be a blessing.
Such moment were all often few and far between.
When he found them, they took his breath away.
Their private wing of the renovated Fortress Citadel, was blissfully quiet.
He could feel the air being stirred by fan blades in the ceiling that mimicked the warm breeze which blew endless across the high walls of the Fortress defenses.
It was likely to be a beautiful evening, as recent storms had cleared the sky, the day’s business was concluded, and there were no official functions to attend for at least the next two days.
Someone outside was singing that old song, it’s music floating in from the Square, but the words had been changed to reflect not the tyrant Alia, but the return of her nephew, the God Emperor, Leto II.
Inam nushif
Al asir hiy ayish
He is eternal
No malice can touch
Lia-anni
Zaratha zarati
Singular and ageless
Perpetually bound
Hatt al-hudad
Al-maahn al-baiid
Ay-yah idare
Adamm malum
Through the tempest
Be it deluge or sand
A singular voice
Speaks through the torrent
Duncan paused, pulling back the Spice Fiber drapes across the archway that led to the bedroom.
Their space had been decorated as a fusion of Fremen and Arrakian styles, in a manner that felt comfortable to all three of them.
Familiar and secure.
The bed lay over under the windows in the light of the setting sun that was fading over the last remaining acres of the Forbidden Forest.
Arrakis was also re-emerging from the past, becoming again the Dune of old, transformed once more by the Sandworms into the great desert it was always meant to be.
No other illumination was necessary to show him everything he need see, and as he put his books down on the table to his right, just inside the room, so he smiled warmly, for there upon the softest white sheets were his Mates, wrapped naked in each other’s arms.
Leto always seemed so very small and fragile when compared to his Fremen Naib, who had for decades held together the last remaining true Sietch at Jacurutu with nothing but a Crysknife and sheer bloody minded tenacity.
Lia-anni
Zaratha zarati
Singular and ageless
Perpetually bound
Indeed they were.
Separate journeys finally intertwined.
Or at least that was how Duncan had reasoned it until Leto patiently explained to him that everything was connected, woven together as a great fabric whose strands touched others in an endless, seamless whole.
It was a considerable burden for one who looked so youthful and innocent, to be so wise and ancient.
A dichotomy between truth and perception, knowledge and expectation.
The famous God Emperor of Dune was no more than a small slip of a boy now to the unknowing eye.
He lay on his back, fast asleep, and seeming all the more vulnerable for so tranquil a pause.
His head, a perfect fit to his Naib’s broad right shoulder, was crowned with tousled dark red hair, through which Macbeth ran his fingers, slowly and gently.
Soothing.
Calming.
It was their way whenever Leto dreamt of the sands, of being once more Shai-Hulud, moving deep beneath the desert’s surface, building the future.
Such dreams were not distress, but instead the painful longing for an existence no other Soul could ever properly fathom.
Inam nushif al a sadarr
Eann zaratha zarati
Forever his voice sings
Through the ages eternally bound
Kali bakka a tishuf ahatt
Al hudad aiman dali
Sacrifice is his gift
One that cannot be equalled
Macbeth slid his left arm around Leto’s abdomen, drawing him closer, their bodies moving sensuously against each other.
The sheets barely covered them, and the Naib’s arousal was more than obvious as he kissed his Emperor’s forehead with tender concern.
Duncan could only wonder at how Macbeth normally seemed so very fierce, so very harsh, angular and sharp edged, carved by the desert winds and remorseless sun. He was ruthless, vicious, unwavering in the defense of both his people and his lovers. But lying there with no other concern save the immediate comfort of Leto’s presence, it appeared as though he somehow softened, his edges smoothing out to lift the burdens from his Soul.
At least for a while.
His shimmering blue, half-lidded glance in Duncan’s direction was a promise of passion that could not denied.
Inam nushif
Al asir hiy ayish
He is eternal
No malice can touch
Lia-anni
Zaratha zarati
Singular and ageless
Perpetually bound
Duncan undid his shirt and let it drift to the floor.
They were indeed perpetually bound.
Bonded.
Forever.
Part of that endless fabric.
As vital as the Spice that was once again flowing from Dune.
As necessary to the universe as life itself.
Eann zaratha zarati
Through the ages eternally bound
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser – Robert & Nicholas
Professor Vogelmann finished up his lecture on Roman History, giving out the writing assignments, and reminded the class of the test next week. The students moans and whines, fell on deaf ears.
“You’re lack of planning doesn’t constitute empathy from me.” He gave them all look. “We got two review sessions next week, so take a breath.”
“Professor, will it just be on Roman, or all of Antiquity?” One of the students asked, as others started packing their bags.
“It will focus on Greek, leading into early Roman history. Next segment we’ll focus on the expansion of the Roman Empire. Pack up, have a good weekend, and see you Monday.” He closed his own books, and put them into his dark leather satchel, listening as the kids moved around and headed towards the exits.
“Have a good weekend, Professor.” One of the kids yelled out as they headed out, dodging a younger man who stepped into the room.
Nicholas smiled when he saw Robbie at the back of the lecture hall. He had one of the oldest around, still looked as if he was teaching history in the 1800’s. The building was the last on the renovation schedule, it would be at least another five years before he got an updated classroom.
As the last of the kids left, he could hear a few of them asking who the hot guy was. ‘It’s his husband.’ ‘Professor Vogelmann is gay?’ ‘Yeah who cares.’ ‘But…’ ‘Stop being an asshole. His husband is hot, my god just to see those two making out would be …’
He tuned them out and focused on his Mate. “When did you get back?”
“Got in this morning, I’m not sure what time it is let alone day!” Robbie had been on a world tour for his latest book, he lost track of cities, conventions and book readings. It was good to be home, and had no intention of leaving their bed for days.
He seductively walked down the last few steps, making his way to his Mate, who looked exceptionally hot in his suit and black robes. He leaned against the front school desk, smiling coyly. “I’m sorry I missed class Professor. I’m sure I can make it up to you.”
Nicholas gave his Mate a look, ignoring the fact he was half hard already. Robbie could get him off with just the filthy words coming out of his mouth, let alone wrapping those red lips around his dick.
“You’ve been gone half the semester.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking very stern.
“Family emergency, my nana was very sick.” He pouted, sighing dramatically.
“And you were a good boy by taking care of her.”
“I’m sure I can take care of you.” Robbie moved closer to the podium, and long table that still held some of Nicholas’ class papers. “Whatever you need, Professor. I’m good for it.” He licked his lips seductively.
“I needed you in class, to do you work.” He tried to keep the want out of his voice be he knew it was slipping.
“I’m sure I could do some extra credit.” Robbie moved around the table. “I’m really good at taking directions, all you need to tell me what to do Professor.”
“You think this seductive act is going to get you a passing grade?” Nicholas watched his Mate stalk closer.
“I know I’ve been a bad boy, you could bend over your desk for a spanking. Then fill me up with your hard thick cock. Drilling me until I scream, filling me up.”
Nicholas closed his eyes, imagining that very scenario. “And if want you to beg.”
Robbie dropped to his knees, mouth slightly open. “Did I mention I have no gag reflex, you can fuck my throat raw, making me swallow everything.”
“There are times I hate you.” He threw out his sense, making sure no one was in the area. “Unzip my pants.”
“Thank you Professor.” He crawled closer, until he was inches away from the large bulge, filling the tailored suit pants. With a shy smile, he unzipped the pants, and pulled out the thick cock. “So big, I can’t wait to taste it.”
Nicholas groaned at the sight of those lips wrapped around the head of his cock, with Robbie’s blue eyes staring up at him intently. There was a reason his erotica books sold mainstream. His Mate had a way with words, the amount of times he got off just reading the rough drafts was embarrassing.
But for Nicholas the very fact he was the one who got to taste those lips, feel his hands roam across his body, and slide into his tight heat, made it all so much more erotic.
He reached down, gripping the long locks as he fucked into that filthy mouth, enjoying the moans pulled from his Mate’s throat. He wasn’t going to last, and they both knew it – they had been apart for too long. In mere moments he was coming down Robbie’s throat, breathing out his release out, controlling the need to scream his name.
Robbie wiped his mouth with the back of his hands and stood back up, giving Nicholas a smile. “God I’ve been thinking about that for days.” He leaned forward kissing him, hot and passionate, letting him taste his own essence. “Was that good Professor.”
“I think you might need to retake your test.” Nicholas grinned as he pulled him closer, kissing him again. “Welcome home, Robbie.”
“It’s good to be back, my dear Nicholas.” He laid his head on his Mate’s shoulder, just enjoying being in his company.
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser – Marquis de Kai
It was fear.
Pure and simple.
As sharp as a fracture through crystal.
As clear as a breath of calm, frozen air.
It made his chest ache, as though in reminding him of the heartbeat that such a moment would once have set pounding so desperately fast.
He had broken the rules.
For the first time in a very long time, he had done wrong.
And he would suffer for it.
His Master already knew.
Of course he did.
Their Bond was so widely open, that such a rush of guilty shame and fear could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.
In part he was annoyed at his own stupidity, for it was one thing to maintain dignity and self-control while on occasion suffering the results of having committed some minor infringement of the simpler rules that governed his life. But it was something else entirely to confess an infraction of far large magnitude that would take time and effort to repair.
His fear was clarifying though, reminding him of the reasons why rules existed for people like himself. He needed their limitations, their certainties, their shape and scope to define his life.
Everything had rules.
Everything mattered.
And so even as he stripped off his clothes, he placed them neatly where they belonged, before adorning his body with the symbols of his status as the Slave he had become for his Master.
It was a familiar sensation, to put on the thick leather cuffs at his ankles and wrists. The metal ring that hung from each one, had been fashioned to match the much smaller version he always wore on the forefinger of his left hand, and the one that pierced the head of his cock.
The metal served its purpose, with or without recourse to other forms of restraint, for his Master had a particular skill in more than just the manipulation of his body.
He smiled, despite the knowledge of what was yet to come.
His Master was unhappy with him, and that would require correction. But he knew what he had done wrong, and he knew how to make amends.
Contrition.
Obedience.
Suffering.
Kai looked at himself in the full length mirror, satisfied that his appearance was both pleasing and appropriate in the naked vulnerability of his well toned flesh.
As with everything, there was a time and a place for nudity, and a reason for its necessity. His body was, after all, not his own. It was the property of his Master, who enjoyed it’s many fine attributes, in many creative ways.
Kai had only to take the very best care of it, in every way, and for that he was lavishly granted whatever he might desire.
Which rather made his own foolish slip up all the more shocking to his own mind. That he could have forgotten something so important…
He sighed, adjusting his hair slightly so a wisp fell across his forehead innocently, and enhanced his eyes.
He was ready to face the results of his failure, knowing that it would make his Master proud, and further enhance the Bond they shared so freely.
When the Marquis stepped into his private rooms, Kai was waiting.
With deliberate intent he slowly closed the door and locked it behind himself, never once shifting his gaze from his Mate, who knelt in naked subservience on the bare floor at the foot of the bed.
Eyes downcast, hands at his sides, back rigid, knees placed at the correct angle to allow for nothing hidden – he was perfection.
Had the moment not required serious discipline, the Marquis knew he would have instantly softened all the tightly held rage and personal embarrassment that his Slave had so thoughtlessly brought to him.
Kai had not failed him so, in a very long while indeed, which forced him to wonder whether his Mate was subconsciously desirous of the punishments to come.
Nothing had to be said.
Kai knew that apologizing was pointless.
So too were excuses.
None were required.
None would be accepted.
He would scream when it was permitted, and that would serve due purpose.
But not before he suffered.
The Marquis took even strides toward his Slave, with slow, steady purpose, stopping only when he knew the toes of his immaculate, hand-stitched Italian loafers were within sight of Kai’s unflinching vision.
The pause that followed was exquisite.
In his right hand he already carried the cane that would mark its correcting fire on Kai’s buttocks, and he was tempted to tap it impatiently on his own thigh as a warning.
But Kai knew what was required, and with a grace that belied his physical build, he bent forward, palms flat on the floor to either side of his Master’s feet.
And with great reverence he placed a kiss on the toe of each shoe.
It was a fine beginning indeed.
