The Book of Twyla

Little more than an hour after the evening meal had been served in the galley, Twyla knocked at the door of Arthas’ cabin. His cabin was the Captain’s cabin, and she knew it would be spacious, but when she entered after he called to her to do so, she was almost stunned by the difference in their quarters. Spacious yes, but also hung with beautiful tapestries and curtains, the bed massive and piled high with fluffy pillows, heavy, warm looking comforters. She felt a pang of envy for a moment as she looked at the bed before quietly shutting the door. She chased the feeling away quickly, however. Her small, hard bed with the straw filled mattress was all she needed. Arthas was the crown prince of Lordaeron as well as a paladin, however, and she knew some things went with his station.



Feather beds being among them, apparently.



“My Prince.” She said softly, bowing her head to him, peering under her eyelashes at the powerful man who was practically lounging in a chair at a table that must have been originally intended for charts, but now had a bowl of fruit, a silver ewer, and two goblets upon it. He was dressed simply, in a loose white shirt, dark colored trousers and supple leather boots. With his golden hair a loose and flowing mane about his shoulders, he appeared quite leonine, the study of a dangerous predator at rest.



At the moment, however, he was giving her a faint smile; very similar to the laughing, almost lighthearted prince he had been only a few weeks ago.



“Please, in here, I am merely Arthas.” He said softly, before motioning towards a second chair at the table, near to his. She moved to sit down, a part of her feeling ill at ease to be alone with him in such a setting, but she told herself that she was being foolish and nothing was amiss. She managed a smile as he lifted the ewer and one of the goblets, pouring a dark claret before offering her the goblet. She accepted it, wondering why her stomach was trying to tie itself into a mass of knots.



“Thank you my-” She quickly changed course, remembering his desire to only be called by his name here, “Arthas.”



He gave a nod, taking up the other goblet and pouring himself a liberal portion of wine, before sipping at it appreciatively while looking her over. “You are most welcome. I hope you enjoy the vintage; it is one I particularly appreciate. I believe it is cultivated at Northshire Abbey, just outside Stormwind.”



“It is quite good.” She agreed, having sipped at the wine, understating her appreciation of it. It was wonderfully rich; smooth and nearly as thick and sweet as honey. She had never had anything like it, and doubted she would ever sample the like again. She was determined to savor it while she could. “Might I ask what it was you wished to speak with me about?” She asked almost tentatively after taking another sip. Arthas merely waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, setting his goblet aside and plucking an apple from the bowl.



“In time.” He chided gently as he took a dagger from his belt, beginning to peel the apple with ease, separating the skin from it in a single long, curly spiral. “For now I merely wish to sit and enjoy the company and conversation of a fellow paladin.” He began to cut the apple into slices as she watched.



“Forgive me, I am not very skilled in the art of making conversation.” She pointed out with a faint smile, setting her goblet down as he finally set the dagger down and held a piece of apple towards her. She started to reach up to take the slice from him, but he spoke suddenly, stopping her, his voice stern, his green eyes going hard and cold.



“No.”



Twyla’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “No?” She asked, as he held the apple slice out towards her once more.



“Not with your hands.”



Twyla almost paled, his meaning becoming clear. The knots in her stomach burst and gave birth to butterflies, the part of her mind that had told her something did not feel right when she stepped through the door now telling her to get up and leave, quickly, but her superior officer, her prince, had given her an order. She had no choice to obey. Without a word, she leaned forward and took the apple slice into her mouth, allowing him to feed her.



He watched her slowly eat the bit of apple, expression pensive and hard to read at the same time. “No matter the order, you follow it without question, with little hesitation.” He finally pointed out as she finally swallowed.



“Not only are you my commanding officer, you are my prince.” She said finally, looking up at him with blue eyes, uncertain as to where all this was leading. “I must follow your orders.”



“There are many others who do not see things as you do.” He pointed out, almost bitterly. “Such as Uther and J-” He cut himself off, holding out another apple slice, and resigned, she leaned forward to take it from his fingertips with her lips, but his hand lingered, caressing her cheek lightly, thumb stroking her lower lip as she finished the slice. Twyla dared not pull away for fear of angering him, but remaining still frightened her almost more than facing the scourge did. At least with the scourge, she generally knew what to expect.



“You look so very like her.” He finally said, and at that she did start to pull away.



“My lord?” She asked uncertainly, but Arthas shook his head, his eyes never leaving her.



“In here, I am merely Arthas.” He reiterated, “And you… You will be Jaina.”



Panic bloomed inside her. Has he gone mad? She wondered as she hurriedly stood. “I should-”



“That was an order.” He almost growled, standing as well, nearly looming over her. “You will be my Jaina, I will be your Arthas, and things will be as they should.”



She stared up at him in numb horror, starting to shake her head, “Please, I am betrothed to-”



He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, eyes boring almost hypnotically into hers. “You are my Jaina.” He growled, before bringing his mouth down upon hers in a demanding kiss. She tried to fight him, but his grip was like iron, and finally, she succumbed, ceasing her struggles and letting him kiss her.



Vinwald, forgive me. She managed to think, as Arthas loosened his grip on her shoulders to run his hands down her back and cup her buttocks firmly, pulling her body flush against his. She could feel the hard length of his erection pressing into her lower stomach, and realized with more than some dread how this would end. But he had given her an order she had no choice but to obey; there was no where to go to get away from him aboard their vessel, and even if she tried, he could still easily take what he wanted from her.



Finally he ended the kiss, releasing her and taking a step back. “Take off your clothes, Jaina. Let me see you.”



Twyla bowed her head, before finally moving to tug off her light boots, watching Arthas from beneath her lashes as he moved away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, removing his own boots. She turned her attention back to removing her own clothing, closing her eyes as she stood, her hands going to her belt. She was trying to envision another man in Arthas’ place; a man just as tall and powerfully built (if not even slightly more so) with tanned skin and laughing black eyes that shone with love for her and her alone. As she let her belt fall to the floor and slowly removed her shirt, she recalled the soft rumble of his deep voice as he said her name. She almost smiled as she envisioned him lounging on the bed, watching her with that gaze that made her feel as if she would burst into flame from the intensity of it and the feelings it aroused in her.



She let her shirt fall to the floor, and then she unlaced her pants, sliding them down her long legs until they too pooled on the floor, her undergarments following shortly after.



Twyla was able to imagine that it was Vinwald watching her undress until Arthas spoke, his voice shattering the illusion beyond repair.



“Light, Jaina,” He murmured, his voice heavy with desire, “You are more magnificent than I dreamed.” She opened her eyes to look at her prince then, and, seeing the hungry, loving look on his face she was startled. Was he deep enough into his own fantasy that he believed her to be Lady Jaina Proudmoore? She received her answer only a moment later when he spoke again, holding out a hand to her.



“Come to me, my love.” He purred, though this was a request, not an order. “I know you wished to wait until things about us were less uncertain, but I burn for you so, and do not wish to wait any longer while I future is so uncertain.”



Twyla found herself staring at Arthas in surprise, quite nearly gaping at him. He truly thought she was Jaina. For a moment she wondered how this madness could have gripped him so suddenly, and remembered a score of little things that could have led to this, his mistaking her identity. Her gaze flicked to the ewer of wine, and she wondered how much of it he had drunk, and if it was possible it was the wine affecting his senses.



“Arthas-” She said, returning her gaze to him, and she saw the slight hardening of his own gaze. That was when she knew he didn’t completely believe her to be Jaina, that a part of him knew it was a façade, but he wanted desperately to believe it was truth.



“Come to me, my love.” His voice was soft and enticing as he continued to hold out a hand for her. She looked at him sitting on the edge of the bed, and finally nodded, stepping forward and taking his hand.



He held her hand gently for a moment, before his grip turned to iron once more and he pulled her so she was astride his lap facing him. Twyla’s cheeks burned with shame; he was still fully dressed while she was as bare as the day she had been born, and felt quite foolish and vulnerable in such a state. She opened her mouth to try to protest once more, but he shook his head, reaching up to place a finger against her lips. “No, there is no need for words tonight.” He murmured, before tracing her lips with his thumb once more, “I have other things in mind for that mouth of yours.”



Twyla frowned slightly, puzzled and a bit worried by his words, before he lowered his mouth to hers once again in a searing kiss, reaching up to bury one hand in her hair while the other slid from her lower back to cup her bottom, sliding her forward on his lap so her center was pressed against his growing arousal. He rocked his hips lightly against hers, causing her to let out a surprised sound of pleasure that was followed almost immediately by a whimper of dismay when she realized she was growing aroused by his ministrations and finding some pleasure in his actions.



“You will enjoy this, love,” He vowed, breaking the kiss, moving to lightly run his lips over her eyelids, her cheekbones, and along the line of her jaw, “You will be crying your pleasure, and my name, ere the night is through.”



Twyla had closed her eyes once more, trying to recapture her fantasy in her mind. Vinwald, she told herself, this is Vinwald sharing his love with me, making me feel as if my skin were on fire with his lips… But the fantasy was shattered once again, this time as she felt the silken strands of Arthas’ hair against her skin. Vinwald kept his head clean shaven, and she was unable to imagine him any other way. Light, am I doomed to suffer through this? Is this to be my penance for Stratholme? She wondered, before letting out a moan as Arthas began brushing feather light kisses along the curve of her neck, accompanied by little nips and nibbles.



“Touch me, love.” He murmured against her skin, rocking his hips against hers once more and causing her to let out another mewl of pleasure. With hands that trembled, she moved to stroke his broad chest through the fine cloth of his shirt, earning a sound akin to a growl of pleasure from him. His searching lips found their way to the pulse behind her right ear, and he began to suck softly, leaving a love mark in his wake. “All who see that will know you are mine.” He murmured into her ear, before running his tongue over the mark, “My beautiful, wonderful, fiery Jaina…”



His words made her stomach tighten and clench once more, and she started to draw back, but he pulled her closer, “We are not done yet, my love.” He said firmly, “We are only just beginning, and there is better to come this night.” He lightly ran his teeth over the sensitive outer edge of her ear, “Much better…”



His hands moved again, this time to her hips, and he pulled her down upon him slightly to grind her femininity against his arousal, indicating that he wished her to keep doing so as he ran feather light fingers up her sides, then sliding them slowly around to her full breasts, running his thumbs over her hardening nipples.



Twyla let out a soft whine, arching towards him, continuing to grind her hips against his as he had directed her, her cleft riding against the ridge of his erect manhood, stirring pleasure inside of her as he bowed a head to lave his tongue over her rosy nipples. She let out another whimper, feeling her pleasure beginning to build inside her, like a tightening coil. “Arthas…” She tried to protest, but he merely crushed his lips against hers once more, invading the depths of her mouth with his tongue, thrusting it in and out in perfect rhythm with their pounding hips until the coil inside her broke and she swore she saw stars behind her closed lids as pleasure flooded her body. After a moment she sank all but boneless against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder.



“Oh, we are far from done, my love.” He chuckled, seeing the state she was in, before moving so she was lying on her back, pinned beneath his weight. “I intend to love you all through the night and into the morning.” He murmured, pulling off his shirt, exposing the pale, muscled expanse of his chest. “Come love, touch me again.” He murmured, nuzzling her neck once more, guiding one of her hands to his hip and the waistband of his trousers. “Help me be rid of the last of what separates us.”



Twyla managed a nod, moving her hands to unlace his trousers before slowly pushing them down, along with his undergarments, freeing his length. He moved his weight off her for a moment to rid himself fully of his clothing, before he was on her once more, his weight pushing her down into the feather mattress as he settled himself between her legs.



She had no warning before he positioned his rigid length at her entrance, seating himself deep inside her with one powerful thrust. His moan of pleasure was accompanied by her sharp cry of pain at the entry, and tears prickled her eyes even as he paused, showering her face with almost frantic feather light kisses.



“Forgive me, Jaina, I forgot.” He managed to pant out, “I should have gone slower, prepared you more…” His lips found their way to her earlobe, “I will replace the pain with the most exquisite pleasure you will ever experience.” He vowed, fastening his lips on her neck once more, sucking and nipping as he moved a hand between them, stroking the swollen bud at her core with his middle finger as he pulled out of her completely before slowly sliding back in. The searing pleasure that ran through her body at his gentle ministrations only caused more tears to fall, rolling down her cheeks and dampening her golden hair. She managed to suppress her sobs, and, biting her lower lip, she tried to shift her hips beneath him, letting out a low keen of pleasure as it caused him to touch a spot inside her that sent tendrils of flame coursing through her veins. Arthas let out a moan, beginning to increase the force of his thrusts, pressing outward on her raised knees to spread her legs wider, finally nearly bending her double, pushing them into the mattress in such a way that they were up near her shoulders.



She no longer bothered to prevent her sobs, though now, they were from pleasure and frustration as well as shame and remorse. She could feel her pleasure mounting once more; in such a way that she felt if she did not peak soon it may well kill her. Half mad with pleasure, she wrapped her arms around him, beginning to arch her hips up to meet his thrusts.



“Please,” She panted out, “Light, don’t stop…!”



“Never, my love.” He managed to groan out, pounding into her with bruising force. He released one of her knees and moved to stroke the sensitive pearl of flesh at her core once more, drawing a cry of pleasure from her as she finally felt her pleasure peak, light exploding within her as her body tensed and began to spasm in ecstasy; muscles convulsing around his length, milking him for his seed, which he finally spilled deep inside her after several more thrusts.



He finally lay still, trying to steady his breathing, while she lay trembling beneath him, shame washing over her; though, for a brief moment, she wished she truly was Lady Proudmoore.



That way she could hurl a firebolt at him and knock him through the wall of the ship and into the sea.



“Come, beloved,” He finally murmured, not seeming to care that his weight was nearly crushing her as he nuzzled her neck, “I seek more release while in your arms. Our night together is not nearly done.”