Fated Mates | Moonday IV Excerpt (Patreon)

Context: This excerpt starts the following morning, if you insisted upon marrying Valdricht during Night III.

Your eyes fly open. For a moment, you're disoriented, caught between the uncanny visage of a lovely face and strangely textured shadows.

It's the scent that centers you. Smoke, cedar, and dried roses.

You reach up to tentatively touch the shadows, revealing them to be folds in fabric. A pale hand takes hold of yours, callused fingers caressing the pads of your fingertips.

"Thy velyr sairys?"

You tilt your head back. You know full well it's Valdricht you'll see, and yet you aren't quite prepared to meet his gaze. Looking into his eyes does strange things to your stomach, causing it to flutter and flip.

Your lips part, but you say nothing at first. Memories of the night before flood your mind, washing away some of the bitter residue of the dream.

He asked me to marry him.

Well, in fairness, he'd asked to be your lover, and you'd been the one to insist on matrimony. Everything had happened so suddenly that it still doesn't feel real.

"Pardon?" you ask.

Valdricht blinks, then rubs at his eyes. You notice lines of fatigue etched beneath them.

"Are you well, I meant to say."

"Quite," you reply before reconsidering. "I had a strange dream. I saw myself, but I wasn't... I was a Vestal of Dawn."

He arches a brow. "You've had that dream before, no?"

"No. Before, I was always following a vestal. A girl with burns. But this time, I saw that girl meet me. Or at least someone who looks like I look. Wearing robes and a veil." You pause. "I just knew she wasn't a very good person. The one who looked like me, that is."

"How bad can a Vestal of Dawn truly be?" asks Valdricht. "They're holy women who devote their lives to studying scripture and providing charity to their communities."

"You know of vestals?"

"I was born in the Isles."

"Truly?"

"Mhm," he says absently as he begins running his fingers through your hair.

"Which isle?" you ask, curious if you'll recognize the name.

"Saelmyr."

"Saelmyr..."

★ Recite what you can recall about Saelmyr ★ Ask follow-up questions

"How long ago did you leave?" you ask slowly.

"A great many years ago," is his cryptic response.

You choose not to press any further. His body is warm beside yours, and you're enjoying this small, intimate moment with him. You don't want to start obsessing over how old Valdricht may be.

The name Saelmyr does stir something in your memory. It's one of the fabled isles. When Elodine took human form to walk upon the earth, a mountain rose from the depths to meet her feet. Long ago, that mountain was said to have been the first of the Ergalti Chain, linking the isles to Nazralt. Early devotees of Elodine built a great tower atop the mountain, believing it would bring them closer to the goddess. Instead, the weight of the tower pushed the island into the ocean.

Perhaps there is another island named after it. One that simply doesn't ring in your memory.

"You met many vestals during your time there?"

"I've met a few vestals," he says. "Most are good women. Even the northern ones."

You snap your fingers. "That's what this woman was. A Northerner. She spoke with an accent, kind of like Serax's, actually."

"Then does that not prove you and she are not the same person?"

"Well... I do struggle to understand Serax at times."

You hadn't meant to make him smile, but that brief flash of teeth feels like a small treasure.

"You are no Baniralti," he says. "And you are certainly not Nazralti. However, there is another possibility that could explain why the woman had your face."

You perk up. "What is it?"

Valdricht leans in and touches his nose to yours. "Because it was a dream."

He caresses your cheek with his knuckles, softening the blow.

"Dreams are often your mind's way of making meaning from chaos. There are lessons to be taken from them, but they seldom show you events precisely as they occurred," he explains. "You've lost your memories. You wish to know who you are, but part of you also fears who you might have been and what it may mean for your present self. So you dream of an idealized woman, a Vestal of Dawn, and yet you feel she isn't a good person. Did she do anything wicked in your dream?"

"Nothing specific. She did have very lovely clothes. Silks. And she talked a great deal about herself. I suspect she was vain and wasn't truthful about her background."

"You apologize for admiring yourself in the mirror," he reminds you. "And you know nothing of your background. You've likely begun to form an idea of who you were, though you recognize it could be false."

"Wow," you breathe. "That makes a dreadful amount of sense." You blink at him. "Stars, you must think me horribly vain and dull as well. To waste so much time prattling about a dream."

"I think you neither, and no time we spend conversing is time wasted."

Your brow furrows. "I think you mean that."

"I would not lie to you."

Something about that statement wriggles like a worm in the back of your head. Much like most of what that Miscilla girl said. But there's no time to analyze the feeling. Valdricht tilts his head and touches his lips to yours, banishing all rational thought.

At first, his touch is so faint that it's little more than a tickle against the sensitive surface of your lips.

Such a small thing. A brush of mouth against mouth. Yet heat unfurls low in your belly, coiling tight. Your pulse hammers in your throat, your wrists, the hollow beneath your ribs.

What would it feel like to have more of him?

Your lips press back against his, mimicking the gentle pressure. He responds at once. His hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. His other hand traces your side, following the curve of your waist through rough fabric.

The scent of his skin, the rasp of his breath, the heat of his palm.

He draws you against him. His body is solid and unyielding. Curious, you lift your hand and run it along the side of his muscular figure, while your other hand goes to the back of his neck, lacing between locks of ebony hair.

His chest vibrates with a low rumble as he deepens the kiss. When his tongue slips past your lips, you initially freeze, but then instinct takes over. You mirror him, hesitant at first. Your tongue meets his, intertwining in a slow, exploratory dance.

You can feel your body softening, turning into something warm and liquid. Much of that heat seems to center in the aching space between your thighs.

His hand slides beneath your tunic. Calloused fingers skim upward until he's cupping a soft mound of bare flesh.

You pull back with a start and suck in a breath.

"Valdricht," you whisper, your face hot.

His eyes are blazing. Blue and luminous, they seem to emit their own light.

"Serax might hear us," you manage.

"He's gone. Out hunting," he says, his tone clipped as he leans in to once again seek your lips.

Your palm presses to the side of his chest. "But... we aren't yet wed."

A brief silence passes between you. You can feel his pulse thrumming hard beneath your hand.

"We will wed in Meyrrvik," he says, his accent thick. "The gods did not draw us together so we might wait for vows and witnesses. We are already bound. You understand that, do you not?"

★ Insist upon waiting until you're wed.★ Concede to his compelling logic.

Thoughts

Pardon any typos or formatting errors, I haven't done a final edit on these passages yet. Night IV is pretty complex and may need to be split into two updates, but I think ultimately it will be more satisfying and take unique turns you won't see in other routes. As it stands, we have three different starting positions for the chapter.

★ MC agrees to be with Valdricht, on the condition of marriage. (Anchored/Drowning)★ MC agrees to be with Valdricht, without conditions. (Drowning)★ MC has insisted upon going to Meyrrvik. (Anchored)

Unlike in the Classic version, Valdricht has no intention of letting the MC go. I also don't think it makes sense to write a full rejection/end of story route for this one, as anyone playing it wants the monogamous relationship.

The Night IV end in Classic is more like an off-ramp for players who wandered in out of curiosity but aren't actually interested in playing a full romance-centric story, while the Night IV end in Dark Maiden is kind of a pressure release valve to give players the option to reject the guys, even if it means dying out in the arctic wilderness. I think the latter also demonstrates why Dark Maiden MC is more agreeable, even if the guys are more overbearing and objectify her. Sticking to principles and asserting herself are luxuries she doesn't really have, given just how dependent she is on them for her survival.

For Fated Mates, Valdricht is in his element. He's not aiming the measured foil for Serax or toned down for general audiences. Every action he takes is oriented towards getting the MC to become his sexual partner. I think most of his efforts are pretty overt to us, though sadly not to our protagonist, who lacks experience with men. You can just sense that once she gives in, things are going to change.

I'll be back later this week with another FM excerpt.

-Mortish