6.4 The Seduction of Hecla

Part VI: The Great Escape
Chapter 4: The Seduction of Hecla
Timeline: AO 295

The corridors of the palace were quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the day replaced by the soft murmur of mountain at night. In the heart of the palace, deep within the labyrinth of hallways, lay the apartments of Princess Hecla. Tonight, these chambers were alive with laughter and the gentle clink of goblets as Hecla and her closest Drokkina companions gathered for an intimate soirée. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the rich tapestries that adorned the walls.

Hecla, resplendent in a flowing gown of deep crimson, moved gracefully among her guests, her raven’s hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of living blackwood. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, her mind was elsewhere—on the encounter with her brother Hacktor just hours before. She had tried, once again, to rekindle the spark between them, to draw him back into the connection they once shared. But Hacktor had rebuffed her, his focus now entirely on his path to power, a path that left no room for her desires.

Yet Hecla was not one to dwell on rejection. There were other ways to satisfy her longing, other means to stoke the flames of passion that burned within her. And tonight, one such opportunity had presented itself.

Belgrath.

The name alone sent a thrill through her. The bard had captivated the court just days earlier with his haunting song in honor of Baldur, and since then, he had become the talk of Rhokki Pass. His music, his presence, had ignited something within Hecla —a yearning for something more, something beyond the walls of the palace and the duties of her station.

The evening had been carefully orchestrated. Belgrath was the guest of honor, invited by Hecla under the guise of entertaining her friends, but she knew what this night was truly about. As the door to her apartments swung open, and Belgrath stepped inside, Hecla felt her heart quicken.

The bard entered with his usual effortless charm, his striking features accentuated by the soft glow of the room. His lute, ever-present, was slung over his shoulder, the polished wood gleaming in the firelight. He inclined his head in greeting, his eyes briefly meeting Hecla’s before he turned to acknowledge the other Drokkina.

The room fell silent as Belgrath took his place near the hearth, his lute resting in his hands. Hecla settled into her seat, her friends gathered around her, all of them eager to hear the bard’s voice once more. There was a palpable tension in the air, an unspoken anticipation that crackled like a live wire.

With a practiced hand, Belgrath strummed the strings of his lute, the sound resonating through the room like a gentle breeze. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the gathered women, each of them holding their breath in expectation. But it was Hecla’s eyes that he sought and found, a silent connection that sent a shiver down her spine.

Belgrath began to sing.

Oh, Drokkina fair with crown of gold, In your gaze, a tale untold, Your beauty shines like mountain bright, A beacon in the darkest night.

His voice was a caress, soft and seductive, wrapping around each listener like a velvet cloak. The words flowed effortlessly from his lips, each verse a tribute to the Drokkina, to their strength and grace. But as the song continued, it became clear that this was no ordinary ballad. This was a song of adoration, of reverence, and though the words were crafted to be general enough to flatter any listener, there was a hidden message woven into the melody—one that only Hecla could truly understand.

With eyes like emeralds, burning bright, You warm the coldest winter’s night, A royal heart, so pure, so true, In all the land, none compare to you.

As Belgrath sang, he let his gaze linger on each Drokkina in turn, letting them believe, just for a moment, that the song was meant for them. He saw the way they blushed, the way their eyes sparkled with hope and desire. He knew they were each imagining themselves as the muse behind his words, and he relished the power he held over them.

But it was Hecla who truly knew the truth. She felt the heat of his gaze on her, the intensity of his voice as it seemed to swell with emotion when he looked her way. The song was for her, and her alone, and the knowledge sent a thrill through her like nothing she had felt before.

Oh, Drokkina royal, strong and bright, Your spirit soars to endless height, In you, the world finds hope anew, For you are the queen of mountains blue.

The other Drokkina sighed dreamily, each lost in the fantasy that they were the subject of the bard’s affection. But as the song drew to a close, Hecla’s gaze remained locked with Belgrath’s, the connection between them growing ever stronger.

When the last note faded, the room was silent for a long moment, the spell of the song lingering in the air. Then, slowly, the Drokkina began to clap, their applause filled with admiration and longing. Belgrath smiled, bowing his head in thanks, but his eyes never left Hecla’s.

The evening continued, the bard playing song after song, his music weaving a tapestry of emotion that held the room captive – for, although only Belgrath knew it, his lute, named Luthiel, was crafted by the Amorosi and it possessed the magical ability to amplify the emotions of its player, making Belgrath’s performances even more captivating. Recognizing there was an opportunity at play tonight, Belgrath tapped into the special powers of his instrument and began to weave its magic.

The hours slipped by, and one by one, Hecla’s friends began to succumb to the enchantment of the bard’s music, their eyelids growing heavy as they drifted into a peaceful sleep. The wine, the warmth, the hypnotic quality of Belgrath’s voice, and the magic of Luthiel had lulled them into a slumber, leaving only Hecla and the bard awake as the night deepened.

Belgrath set his lute aside and moved quietly through the room, extinguishing candles and ensuring that the other Drokkina were comfortable. Hecla watched him with a mixture of admiration and anticipation, her heart beating faster with each passing moment.

When at last the room was quiet and the others were fast asleep, Belgrath returned to Hecla’s side. He knelt before her, taking her hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. His eyes, so piercing and intense, bore into hers, and in that moment, Hecla knew that she had found something—or someone—worth pursuing.

“They’re all asleep,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “But you… you’re still here.”

Hecla smiled, a slow, knowing smile that matched the hunger in her eyes. “I am,” she replied, her voice just as soft. “And so are you.”

Belgrath chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of her hand. “Perhaps that’s because I had something else in mind for the evening.”

“And what might that be?” Hecla asked, her voice a whisper.

“Something more… private,” he suggested, his voice full of suggestion. He rose to his feet, offering her his hand. “Shall we?”

Hecla hesitated for only a moment before she accepted his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Together, they slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the slumbering Drokkina behind. The corridors of the palace were silent as they made their way through the shadowy halls of the princess’s apartments, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets beneath their feet.

Belgrath led her to a secluded alcove, hidden away from prying eyes and ears. The air was cool and still, the only light coming from a single candle that flickered on a nearby ledge. Hecla’s heart raced as she felt the weight of his gaze on her, the intensity of his presence filling the small space.

The bard stepped closer, his hand reaching up to gently caress her cheek. “I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you,” he confessed, his voice husky with desire. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Hecla.”

“And you… you’re dangerous,” Hecla replied, her voice trembling with anticipation. “But I don’t care.”

Belgrath’s lips curved into a slow, seductive smile. “Dangerous? Perhaps. But only to those who don’t understand me.”

“Then make me understand,” Hecla whispered, her breath catching in her throat as he leaned in closer.

Their lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss, the culmination of the tension that had been building between them all night. Belgrath’s hands roamed over her body, his touch igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume them both. Hecla’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened, their bodies pressed together in the small, hidden alcove.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their hearts pounding in unison. Hecla looked up at Belgrath, her eyes dark with desire, and she knew that this was just the beginning of something far more dangerous than she had ever anticipated.

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows on the stone walls as the bard and the princess gave in to their passion, the music of the night playing softly in the background—a tune that only they could hear.