Twin Flames: The Eastern Chronicles

The next morning, the brothers rise bright and early and prepare for their day, and go to attend their lessons before their shift. Once they leave the tutelage hall, they are greeted by a fellow guard.

“The Emperor requests your presence.” They follow the guard through the halls of the imperial palace, their footsteps echoing on the polished stone floors. Oleksandr and Thekkur don't say much as they walk, both of them feeling a slight sense of trepidation at the unexpected summon. They keep their focus and their senses sharp, ready for whatever might await them. They arrive at the grand and opulent quarters of the Emperor. The guard bows and departs as another guard pushes open the heavy wooden door, revealing the Emperor seated in his drawing room. The twins step into the emperor's chamber, their steps measured and respectful. They come to a halt before the desk and bow deeply, waiting for the Emperor to acknowledge them.

“Ah, my Siberians. Right on time. Sit down.” They straighten up from their bow and take a seat in the chairs placed in front of the Emperor's desk. They keep their gazes fixed on him, waiting for him to speak.

“I hear you two are excelling in your training.” Oleksandr and Thekkur both nod in response, a sense of pride swelling in them at the Emperor's compliment. Oleksandr speaks for the two of them, his voice calm and respectful.

“Yes, Your Majesty. We have been working hard to hone our skills and become the best at what we do.”

“I can see. I'm impressed. Samorix reported to me that you are nearly proficient in literacy after just two months.” Oleksandr and Thekkur exchange a brief but pleased look between themselves. Literacy has been a challenge for them, and they are happy to hear that their hard work has been noted. Oleksandr speaks up once again, his voice confident but still deferential.

“We have been studying and practicing diligently. We're grateful for the chance to learn and improve ourselves, Your Majesty.” The Emperor nods in approval, a small smile on his lips.

“I'm glad to hear it. You two are not just exceptional fighters; you seem to be intelligent and willing to learn new things. It's a rare quality to find in warriors. It's important for me to know my Varangians, as there is a level of trust and familiarity that must be maintained. But I digress, that is not the reason I brought you here.” Oleksandr and Thekkur straighten up slightly in their chairs, their attention sharpening. They listen intently, wondering what the Emperor could be about to say.

“I have your first mission.”

Oleksandr speaks up, his voice steady and his demeanor calm. “What will you have us do?” The Emperor sits back in his chair, his face turning solemn and serious. He looks at the brothers with a firm and focused gaze, his tone as solid and steady as stone.

“I've received information about a group of rebels operating just outside the city walls. They have been wreaking havoc, attacking trade caravans and innocent citizens. I need you both to gather your weapons and lead a squad of soldiers to take down their hideout and put an end to their treachery. Can I count on both of you to carry out this mission?”

“Yes. What information can you provide us?”

“We have reason to believe that these rebels are a small but well-armed group. They have a hidden encampment on the outskirts of the city, and they seem to be well-organized. We have reports that they are led by a man named Rurik. He's known to be a formidable fighter and a charismatic leader, capable of inspiring his followers to die for his cause.”

“How small are we talking?”

The emperor considers the question for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. “Our intelligence suggests that the group numbers around 30 people or less. They operate in small, agile teams, hitting their targets quickly and then vanishing into the wilderness before we can send reinforcements.”

“Then we do not need any soldiers. We can handle it ourselves.” The Emperor gives a sly grin.

“Ah, yes… I remember the tartar chieftain heads you brought me.”

“Shall we bring you prisoners? Or shall we handle them our way?” The Emperor leans back in his chair, considering the question for a moment. His gaze flicks between the brothers, taking in their cool and assured demeanor, the strength and deadly grace of their muscular frames.

“Do what you must,” he says, his voice calm and collected. “I trust your judgment completely when it comes to handling the situation. If they surrender, bring them to me. But if they resist, deal with them as you see fit.” The brothers exchange a sly grin with each other.

“Sure. We can do that…” The Emperor watches the brothers' silent exchange with a slight smirk, appreciating the subtle shift in their demeanor. They both exude the calm and lethal focus of predators preparing for the hunt. He nods, satisfied with their response, speaking in an energetic tone.

“Very good. You have your orders. Do not waste any time. This rebellion must be quelled as quickly as possible.”

The brothers stand up in unison and bow before departing. They walk down the hall and look forward as they grin, speaking to each other in low voices.

“You know the drill, brother.”

“Aye. Slay those who surrender…”

“...And capture those who resist.”

“We shall have some fun with this group, then?” Oleksandr grins in response, his expression mirroring his brother's lethal excitement.

“Aye, brother. It's been too long since we've had a good hunt.”

They make quick work of preparing for the mission, suiting up in their armor and arming themselves with their Dane axes. The cool, light mail fits snuggly beneath their surcoats, offering both protection and mobility. Oleksandr also grabs his griffin spear, while Thekkur chooses a bow, slinging it across his back with one smooth motion. With their weapons and shields in hand, they make their way towards the stables, the sound of the restless horses and the smell of hay and leather fill the air. A couple of stable hands are tending to the horses, grooming them and preparing feed for the evening. The brothers prepare their horses and lead them out of the stables to mount them, before riding out North.

The brothers ride through the streets of the city, the heavy hooves of their horses clattering off the pavestones. People pause to watch them pass, some of the children pointing in excitement, no doubt having heard stories of the Varangian Guard and their prowess as warriors. The city soon gives way to the green countryside outside, and they continue their journey, towards the reported location of the rebel encampment. The brothers take to the task of tracking the rebels with a fervor and precision that comes with years of honed skill. They traverse the wilderness, following broken branches and disturbances in the earth that speak of a large group of men having passed through. For days on end they hunt, tracking the rebels as if they were mere game, their senses and instincts finely tuned to the search. Finally, after what seems like an eternity of tracking, the brothers stumble upon the rebels' encampment. It is a hidden site, tucked away in a small valley, shielded by the hills around it and the dense forest. A dozen tents are pitched, a small fire is burning in the middle, and the faint sounds of conversation and movement can be heard through the trees. The brothers dismount their horses well out of sight of the camp, and climb the hill to take cover. They watch from the treeline as the rebels settle around the fire, the sound of their low voices and the occasional snore coming through the darkness of the night. They silently and quickly climb to their feet, moving back into the brush and mounting their horses once more. Both men take a moment to steady themselves, their muscles coiled and ready. Thekkur's hand grasps his bow, reaching to nock an arrow from the quiver on his back.

Oleksandr charges first towards the camp holding his axe and one hand and spear in the other, his horse thundering forward in a crash of hooves and leather, the rebels are caught off guard by the sudden attack. The sound of rushing hooves gives them only a moment to react, scrambling to grab their weapons and form a defensive line as the hulking figure of the Varangian closes in fast. As Oleksandr rides past, the camp is in disarray, his axe swings true and the head of one of the rebels flies through the air, a spray of blood arcing through the night air. Thekkur follows not a moment later, his arrow finding its target in the back of another man, who crumples to the ground with a sudden gasp of pain. The attack is sudden and unexpected, and the rebels are caught unprepared for the ambush. They struggle to maintain their composure, confusion and fear taking hold as the brothers tear through their forces. A few of the rebel soldiers manage to draw their weapons and form a line, but they are no match for the brothers' ferocity and efficiency. Oleksandr charges back into the camp, his powerful horse surging through the chaos, while Thekkur keeps his distance, picking off the rebel soldiers one by one with an almost casual precision. The rebels cannot keep up, their numbers dwindling fast. Thekkur rains arrows down upon them, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy, while Oleksandr swings his axe with a savage ferocity, hacking down the rebels that dare to stand against him. Thekkur picks off the scattering fighters, his arrows finding their mark with a cold, clinical precision. Oleksandr charges forward once again, his griffin spear outstretched as he closes in on a single rebel who attempts to put some distance between himself and the Varangian. With a flick of his wrist, Oleksandr sends his spear hurtling towards the man's back, the long shaft piercing through his mail and flesh alike, pinning him to the ground. As Thekkur rushes by, he scoops up the spear, which is now coated in blood and gore, while Oleksandr dismounts and moves in to defeat the last of their opponents. The few remaining men are quickly overwhelmed by the sheer force and ferocity of the brothers, with Oleksandr's axe dispatching his last opponents with brutal efficiency.

As Oleksandr gets the last of the rebels into a submission, Thekkur notices a boy, around fourteen years old, crouching near a tent with a bow drawn in his shaking hands. He aims the weapon at Oleksandr, about to fire an arrow into his back. Thekkur's heart skips a beat, and he quickly considers his next move. Oleksandr glances up as Thekkur reels back his arm with the spear to hurl it at the boy, and his eyes widen at the sight of the child his brother is about to skewer. He quickly ducks out of the way and sends his axe flying at the edge of the spear, managing to intercept it, clipping the edge and deflecting its trajectory. The spear falls harmlessly to the ground, just shy of the boy, who looks up in terror as the axe goes flying by. Oleksandr's eyes narrow as he gazes at the child, his heart racing at the thought of what could have happened.

The boy quickly grabs the spear and runs off. Thekkur is about to ride after him, cursing under his breath, but Oleksandr calls out to him to stop, to let him go. Thekkur reluctantly obeys his brother, his gaze lingering on the boy as he flees the scene. Thekkur then dismounts from his horse, joining Oleksandr as they turn their attention to the three men who lie on the ground, beaten and groaning in pain.

The brothers quickly work to bind the men up and blindfold them, and then they stand next to each other, watching their new captives.

“Your damn spear is gone.” Thekkur grumbles.

“Whatever. I don't want to kill a child. He's likely here without a choice of his own.” Oleksandr retrieves his axe, and Thekkur ties the mens' bindings to the backs of the horses. The brothers begin searching through the rebel camp, looking for any items or information that could give them insight into the rebellion, their plans, or their numbers. They eventually pack up and mount their horses, leading the men back to Constantinople. Once they arrive, they drop off the captives with officers near the city walls, and go back to the palace. They report their mission's success to Samorix and brief him on the information they were able to gather from their search of the camp. Samorix listens intently to the brothers' report, a satisfied expression on his face as he nods approval.

“Solid work, lads. What would you like as your reward? Wine, women?" He asks with a grin. The brothers exchange a glance before Thekkur responds.

“That'll do... But I have a request”

“What is it?”

“Two brunettes for my brother here, and that dancer, Amalthea for myself.”

Samorix lets out a low whistle, impressed by Thekkur's request. He grins widely at the young Varangian, clearly amused by his taste.

“A man who knows what he wants,” he chuckles. “I think I can arrange that. Two brunettes for your brother, and the lovely Amalthea for yourself. Hm... Consider it done.” The brothers nod, and Thekkur tries to suppress the feeling of his racing heart.

“Thanks, captain.”

“You're welcome, lad,” he says, his voice taking on a sly tone. “I'll arrange everything. You two just make sure you enjoy yourselves.”

Later that night, the brothers are enjoying a satisfying meal together, the food and wine plentiful, as they relax in a small leasure room. Oleksandr is busy indulging in the courtesans that have been provided for him, his eyes on both of them as they flirt and talk, holding them on his lap. Just then, the sound of footsteps approaching is heard, and Amalthea walks into the room, her eyes scanning the area until she notices Thekkur sitting at the table. She smiles softly as she approaches to sit next to him. His heart races as he straightens up and pushes a chair out for her, offering her a seat.

“Hello,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. Amalthea's smile widens as she sits down, her eyes fixed on Thekkur. She can sense the nervousness in his tone and the slight shake in his voice, but it only serves to make her smile even more.

“Hello,” she replies, her own voice soft and soothing. “You requested my presence for your little party, I presume?”

“I couldn't stop thinking about you, I had to.” Amalthea's smile widens even further as Thekkur speaks, his words sending a flutter through her chest. She can feel the sincerity and longing in his voice, and it touches her deeply.

“Is that so?” She responds, her voice filled with a mixture of coyness and genuine interest. “I must admit, you've been on my mind as well.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” Amalthea lets out a soft giggle, and she leans slightly closer to Thekkur, her voice dropping to a low, intimate volume as he pours her a cup of wine.

“Oh, you know,” she says, her tone suggestive and playful. “Just a few thoughts here and there. Mostly about that night in the garden.” His grin widens as he looks her over, her long bronze hair now in a loose hairstyle down her back, her green eyes bright, with the kohl adding a hint of mystery. Amalthea notices the look in Thekkur's eyes, the way he hesitates for a moment, as if holding himself back. She can sense his desire to touch her, to bring her closer to him, and it only serves to make her own desire burn even brighter.

“You look like you want something,” she whispers, her voice sultry and low. “Don't be shy. Tell me what you're thinking.” He pauses, his grin remaining as he sips his wine.

“I suppose... I'd like to know you better. See you more often.”

“See me more often, huh?” She repeats, her tone teasing yet sincere. “And here I thought you just wanted me for my body.” Thekkur shakes his head as he sets his cup down.

“No, my lady. Well, you have a beautiful body, but I'd like to see your soul a bit more.” Amalthea's eyes widen at Thekkur's words, taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. She can feel a slight flush rise to her cheeks as she listens to him, her heart skipping another beat.

“My soul…” She replies, her voice soft and a little bashful. “You want to see my soul. Nobody's ever said that before.”

“Well... We have all night to ourselves. We won't be interrupted.” He says, glancing over at his brother, who's now busy on a couch in the corner of the room, fondling and kissing the two disrobed brunettes on his lap. Amalthea's eyes follow Thekkur's gaze to Oleksandr.

“Seems like your brother's having quite the time over there,” she says, her tone amused. “Looks like we won't have any interruptions, indeed.”

The night passes by in a blur of conversation, laughter, and intimacy. Thekkur and Amalthea speak for hours, sharing stories and thoughts, their conversations becoming increasingly more intimate and personal. They drink wine and eat fruit, their bodies often coming together in brief moments of physical contact, their lips meeting in soft, hungry kisses. As the night progresses, Thekkur and Amalthea grow closer and closer, their connection strengthening with each passing moment. They can feel the bond between them growing stronger, deeper. They’ve only known each other for a short while, but it feels like they’ve known each other for ages. By the time the first light of dawn filters through the windows, Thekkur and Amalthea are lying entangled in each other's arms, their bodies spent and satisfied from the night's activities. The room is bathed in a soft, early morning glow, and a gentle silence hovers in the air, broken only by their soft breathing.

Amalthea's head is resting on Thekkur's chest, and she can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. She looks up at him, a smile on her face. Thekkur looks down at her, his eyes meeting hers, a soft smile on his face. He reaches down with one hand, gently brushing a strand of her loose hair away from her face, and speaks quietly, his voice still hoarse from the night's activities.

“This… That was better than I ever imagined.” Amalthea's smile widens at his words, a soft, warm light in her eyes. She can feel the sincerity and affection in his voice, and it only deepens the connection between them. She moves her head slightly to press a soft kiss against his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart beneath her lips.

“I feel the same way,” she replies quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “This was... special. You're special.” Thekkur smiles softly, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger, causing her to smile at the intimacy of the gesture.

He asks, “where do you stay? I want to see you again soon.” She shifts a little, laying her chin on his chest as she looks up at him.

“I live in an insula in the city, not too far from here, in the western market area. It’s not much but it’s private, and I’d love to see you again soon.”

“I really like you, Amalthea.” She can feel a warm, fluttering feeling in her chest, and a small, bashful smile forms on her blushing face.

“I… really like you too,” she replies, her voice soft and slightly embarrassed. She feels the warm, gentle touch of Thekkur's hand on her cheek, and she can't help but lean into it slightly, her eyes closing briefly. She can feel the calluses on his fingers, the rough texture against her skin, and it's a pleasant, intimate feeling. She opens her eyes again and looks up at him, her expression soft and a little vulnerable, as she basks in the moment of his touch.

Later on the next day, after the night of intimacy and connection, Thekkur finds himself mulling over the events of the past night. He can't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as he recalls the moments he shared with Amalthea, the way they spoke and laughed, the way they held each other, the way her body felt like it was made for him. He can feel a strong desire to see her again, to talk to her and be near her. He knows he has to wait until night, but the day seems to pass slowly, each hour feeling like an eternity.

As soon as he’s relieved from his duties, he rushes out to the barracks to change out of his uniform, his mind still preoccupied with his new lover. On his way out of the palace into the city, he stops to purchase some fresh peaches and pick some flowers from a nearby garden, hoping she’ll appreciate the small gestures. He quickly makes his way to her insulae, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. He can feel a mixture of nervousness and impatience, his thoughts filled with what the night might bring.