Legend's Lost

Aete dismounted first, glad to be in the quiet of her favorite hiding place. It was one place the Woads had given her without fight; as if aware it was more for ritual than anything else. However, in Aete’s heart and mind, the place was for solace and comfort as well.
The sight of the warm spring heartened her most as she shed the first layer of her clothing with a sigh. Dagonet dismounted, watching Aete as she freed herself from her clothing. Her body was muscular yet shapely, a sign of good health and skill not to mention wealth and good fortune.
She was unselfconscious about her form, shedding her clothes quickly and easily then giggling like a child when she poked a cautious toe into the waters. Without any further hesitation, Aete slid into the water, swam the length of the pool and settled beside the waterfall near the trees.
Through the gleam of the moonlight through the trees, Dagonet could see the silver light shimmer along the golden ochre body resting in the water; head back with eyes closed. More out of selfish desire than duty, he quickly shed his clothing and hurried into the water, splashing around like an otter before he got his bearings and swam toward his quarry. Dagonet broke water beneath her outstretched palm, pleased by the feeling of her hand wandering along his face and neck as he crawled out of the water onto the stone seat Aete was perched upon.
Without a word, Aete enveloped Dagonet in her arms and drew him to her body as she covered his mouth with hers. Always the aggressor in bed sports, Aete used her body to turn the larger man over onto his back then straddled him just above his waist. A slow, seductive smile moved across her strong features, toning the arrogance down substantially. The moment she cocked her head to the side and moved forward to drag her braids along his well sculpted form, Dagonet pulled her forward as he lifted his head and began to kiss her deeply, his hands wandering to the little places he knew would make her moan.
Without a word, Aete slid down his body and onto the hardened shaft that had sprung to life. As she enveloped him, her head rolled back as she began to roll her hips. Dagonet gasped as Aete gripped him tightly with her cunt, her breasts hardening with her tensing muscles as she leaned forward abruptly and gripped the sides of his chest with her strong hands.

They spent the afternoon purging them selves of the pent up need to hearken their calls back to the ways of their people. They played their roles of Goddess and Follower; Battle Queen and Healer; of the Doe and the Ram or the Mare to the Stallion for hours, unaware the last lingering warmth of day had gone until both began to shudder in the water.

Dagonet lifted Aete carefully then carried her to the skins they had laid out on the banks, quickly setting the pre-built fire ablaze. He sat back for a moment and watched as Aete lost herself in the light of the dancing flames. She knelt before the fire as her hands stroked her battle fit and worn body; the droplets of water gleamed golden amber then faded away in a barely perceptible mist.
Her long hair appeared to be smoking as the moisture evaporated, creating a halo of mist around her open and quiet features. Aete’s eyes narrowed as she stared into the flames, drawing her focus tightly around her as she let the light and heat draw her in.
The flames spoke of destruction, massacres to the northern most regions; fetid body odor and blood with half cured pelts rotting in the mix. Dagonet watched as Aete’s head jutted skyward, jaw in the air as the muscles along her upper chest and throat tightened, her fingers digging for the hilt of a blade. Aete’s brain burned like the scorched sands between Egypt’s fertile banks and the jungles of Africa while the taste of blood filled her mouth, her nose and her ears as the throb of her pulse roared in her head.
The stench of fat and shit as it burned filled her nostrils, making her gag as she threw her self forward to vomit the taste from her mouth, the gleaming blue grey eyes of Lancelot burned then grew pale and milky; thick grey smoke in the air all around them. The warmth of Tristan’s blood as it spattered her face, his body cleaved in two; liquid golden white flowed like a mane but longer as Aete’s fingers brushed leather and bronze.
With a pained moan and arching of her back, Aete came up off of her knees and wailed like an angry lioness that roamed the plains near her home; a sound that sent shivers up Dagonet’s back. There was a moment where Aete seemed to be suspended in the throws of her visions but slowly, she began to relax and fall back into the flicker of the flames, her naked form sweat covered and flushed.
Once again crouched before the fire, Aete moaned softly then swiftly got up and dove into the now night blackened pool. When she surfaced, the look on her face said she meant business so Dagonet began to ready him self and then the horses while Aete did the same.
Dagonet watched Aete closely as they saddled up their horses and noted she made ready her elaborate battle axe along with the two well crafted, curved Eastern style swords she kept with her at all times. Without having to ask, Dagonet knew that the ride back to the wall would be hard, somewhat saddened that the quiet of their evening had been shattered by Aete’s vision. However, she not as equally sentimental and without a word, Aete mounted up on Illyash then looked directly into Dagonet’s eyes, “Ride as you will but I have to speak to Artorius… now.” Without another word, she turned her horse toward the road and was about to encourage him into a steady run, Dagonet called out.
“AETE!”
The woman whirled around in her saddle and glared, “NOW Dagonet.”
He swung into his saddle then looked back at his agitated companion, “How bad?”
Aete said nothing; she merely turned in her saddle then urged her horse up the road at a gallop, Dagonet close behind.