Lineage

“Get the fuck up,” Luna ordered, lifting the bed I slept on up with one hand and tipping me out, landing hard on the stone floor with several joints popping in response.

“Ahhh…” I groaned, pushing myself up off the floor and untangling my blankets. “Why?”

“It’s time to get up,” she said, giving me a soft boot in the leg before leaving the room. “You’ve got ten minutes before I leave without you.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Eleven in the morning,” she said from the doorway. “You’ve been allowed to sleep in.”

“Thank you,” I said sarcastically. “I cannot wait to go home.”

“If you think you’re gonna be woken up by a chorus of bird song, soft shakes, and a blowjob, then you’re dead wrong,” Luna said. “I’ll still be heaving you out of bed for training.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a really good idea if Svea’s lying next to me,” I sniggered. “We all know how well dragons react to being woken up prematurely and having their favourite object taken.”

“Lucky you,” Luna commented, heading out of the room and down the stairs. I turned my head to look at Advalia, having pulled the covers up to her face to block out the noise of Luna and I.

“Are you waking up now too?” I asked her.

“Get fucked am I,” she growled. “You and Luna can have your own adventure. I’ve got sleep to catch up on.”

“Come on, get a shower with me,” I said, walking up behind her and giving her a slap on the ass with all the power I could muster. The only response she made was a delayed one, seconds ticking by before she signalled her pain.

“Ow,” she said in a dull, completely insincere tone.

“Honestly would’ve thought that was worth a bigger reaction,” I said, wringing my stinging hand out.

“I’m very dense on a molecular level,” Advalia responded. “Demons have much denser skin to absorb impacts and thus not be harmed by beatings and assaults.”

“Really?”

“No. You just hit like a bitch,” she said, covering her ass up again and going back to sleep. “Now fuck off.”

I rolled my eyes, showering, dressing, and meeting Luna down at the entrance, the older alicorn having tied her hair up into a high ponytail that now stretched down to her knees with her much longer fringe hanging over an eye and being clipped to the side of her head.

“Did it grow that much in one night?” I asked, finally getting a good look at her this morning.

“Yup,” she nodded, the thick ponytail wiggling from the movement. “Also: I hate you.”

“What for today?” I asked, folding my arms.

“Your hair doesn’t grow out as fast a mine does,” she said. “Hasn’t this entire time. All you’ve had to deal with in five years is occasionally trimming it to be too short for a ponytail, Mr Slicked-Back-And-Stupid.”

“You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you in these past five years,” I said with a sigh. “It’s that you got to the mental age of seventeen and then just stopped maturing.”

“Oh yeah?” Luna asked with a cocked eyebrow. “Well that robe you’re wearing is gay.”

“I’m gonna start ignoring you now,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

“Yeah, ignoring women,” she said. “Like a gay.”

I decided to head out on my own and let Luna, the fourth bisexual Alicorn princess, trail me with her light-hearted homophobic comments before getting to the Scarred Hound just in time to see someone getting thrown through one of the already-smashed windows and onto a pile of unconscious drunk men.

“It’s a little early to be passed out drunk, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Sun’s down somewhere in the world,” Luna shrugged, booting the door open and seeing what was going on inside. What was going on inside was Annerose punching the lights out of several men with several more already lying either dead or unconscious on the floor. There were a few ‘environmental takedowns’ scattered around. Someone had their hand and neck pinned to the bar with knives and his own sword, another one was impaled on deer antlers above the bar, and third man had one of the bar stool legs rammed up his ass.

“You know,” Luna said, surveying the scene. “As impressive as it is to witness a girl that small beat up all these men, I’m more impressed with how Tiny Tot over there managed to get that fat fuck all the way up onto the deer antlers.”

“Leg-lifting, grunting, and a lot of standing military presses,” Annerose answered, currently beating another man’s face to a pulp with blood all over her.

“Gonna explain what started it this time?” I asked.

“Over there,” she said, pointing with a finger to a well-preserved table with a deck of cards on it.

“What about it?” I asked.

“Stupid cunts thought the club was a spade,” she shrugged, smashing the now-dead man’s face off the bar before standing up straight again and pointing to another object across the room. “I decided to show ‘em proper what an actual fucking spade looks like.”

I looked across the room to see a blood-soaked garden tool, feeling the need to express a problem with her logic as she shoved a corpse to the side and sat down at the table.

“You do know that’s a shovel, right?” I asked.

“Aye, but these fucker’s didn’t,” she shrugged. “And to be honest with you, it doesn’t really matter whether it’s a shovel or a spade when you’re getting your fucking skull caved in with it.”

“But you were still wrong in the argument about what a spade looks like,” I pointed out.

“Might’ve been, but it doesn’t really matter now does it?” she asked, leaning back in her seat. “Nobody can prove you wrong if there’s nobody left alive.”

“I find that my approach to stealth,” I nodded.

“Now, sit your arses down and order something,” she said before pointing to the bar. “Old Georgey needs as much coin as he can get to clean up the fucking mess.”

“I wouldn’t need to if you’d stop killing the patrons, Annerose,” George sighed from behind the bar.

“Hey, at least I keep the rubbish out,” she shrugged, necking the rest of her ale.

“You keep everyone out, Annerose,” he reminded her.

“Rubbish, people,” she said with a sideways hand gesture. “Ain’t no fucking difference in this shithole. Now get your scrawny arse round here with three pints of ale. Bring an extra glass for the fit one, as well.”

“Which one is that?” George asked.

“I’ll let them decide,” Annerose said, pointing to us both. “Go on then. Bicker.”

“I think I look better than you when I’m naked,” Luna shrugged. “You look better than me when we can’t see your face.”

“Heh,” Annerose grinned. “I like her… what’s your name, Lass?”

“Luna,” the ancient Alicorn responded, the smirk draining off Annerose’s face as she realised who she was addressing.

“Oh… I’m, uh, sorry, Your Majesty… I didn’t recognise you at first,” she said in a whimpering tone. “Forgive me for my disrespect.”

“Don’t worry, I get that a lot, especially in the Northern Realms,” Luna shrugged as she sat down at the table.

“How’d you not recognise her?” I asked. “Luna’s a rather distinctive woman.”

“Two reasons: The first being that they only put up portraits of me when I’m in one with Celestia and usually in formal attire; dresses, ball gowns, that sort of thing. Secondly: I’m usually painted with white skin in the Northern Hemisphere.”

“...” I was silent for a moment before finding a question. “Why?”

“Multitude of reasons,” Luna shrugged. “Some do it because they just don’t like black people and others do it because they don’t know my actual skin colour and just assume it because of the country I live in. I’ve even had people from the Frozen North ask me if my skin was dyed because they’d never seen a black person before. If you don’t mind me asking, kid: who was the portrait painted by?”

“Maxwell Van De Ross,” Annerose answered. “I think.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Luna nodded. “Mr Van De Ross has the rather obnoxious habit of painting his subjects especially women, in the ways he finds attractive. If he doesn’t like the way a woman’s nose looks, he’ll paint it to match his specific craving, if a woman’s breasts are too small for him to enjoy, he’ll paint them bigger… and if he doesn’t like a woman’s skin colour, he’ll paint it as white as the snow he grew up around.”

“Sounds like a dick,” I commented.

“He was a decent enough person, if a little conceited,” Luna shrugged. “He was a philanthropist, used his money from royal portraits to fund his home city and get people educated in finer arts. He slept with Celestia once twenty or thirty years ago. Couldn’t really handle a woman like her properly, but it did set off an infatuation that went on until the day he died.”

“Huh,” I nodded. “It’s always fun getting ‘Luna’s Random Sex Fact of The Day’ every time we talk.”

“Feel free to keep asking,” Luna shrugged, pulling her insanely-long ponytail around to rest on her lap and toying with it. “A woman as old as myself has some crazy stories.”

“Maybe later,” I nodded, turning back to Annerose. “What did you find?”

“Absolutely fucking nothing,” she said. “Whoever the fuck we’re looking for doesn’t leave a trace big enough for a bloodhound to follow. The only thing we got was that bastard piece of jet and a heaping mound of fuck all else.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Luna asked, producing the shrapnel from the pocket. “I’m actually more than just a story book to retell tales of my sister and I getting fucked by famous artists.”

“You’re a lot… looser with your language then I expected you to be, Your Majesty,” Annerose commented before continuing in a more panicky tone. “I-If you don’t mind me saying, that is…”

“Don’t worry about it, I can spew enough ‘fucks’ and ‘cunts’ to make anyone wonder if I’m royal-raised or not,” Luna smiled. “You have to let loose whenever you’re not in a formal environment otherwise you become rather troubled in your casual life. One of the most common symptoms of being pure and noble twenty-four-seven is that you end up getting off to some really fucked up shit whenever sex happens, mostly because you’ve become so obsessed with dark and depraved actions due to you being so clean all the time.”

“You seem like that’s coming from a place of experience,” Annerose said, clearly getting more comfortable with talking to Luna.

“Believe me, Honey, it is,” Luna chuckled. “I’ve done everything from whips and chains, to public orgies, and all the way up to getting one of my tits branded.”

“Really?” Annerose asked in horror.

“Yup. I healed the brand a few thousand years back, wasn’t too proud of it when lower-cut and more cleavagey dresses became a thing,” Luna shrugged. “But all the other stuff has stayed in my kinky dreams forever.”

“Can we get back on topic here?” I asked, faking a sickened expression at her description as to make it seem like I didn’t enjoying nutting two pints into Luna’s pussy. “I’m not really interested in hearing about my Aunt’s sexual adventures.”

“Fair enough,” she said, playing along with me before flicking the shrapnel with her free hand. “This little baby is going to lead the three of us to wherever our cat burglar rests their thieving little head. So… are we gonna finish up here and then head out looking for them?”

“Yeah, sure…” Annerose nodded, awkwardly refusing to meet Luna’s eye as she spoke.

“You wanna hear about the brand story, don’t you?” she asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Annerose nodded.

“Which I don’t,” Luna nodded. “So, a few thousand years back I hear about this court advisor that is amazing at eating pussy-”

“Right, I’m done,” I said, getting up and walking away to strengthen the anti-incest vibe we were giving off. I’ll admit, the story did have me interested, but I’d ask Luna to tell it again the next time we fucked. So for now, I was off to the bar to order another drink and have a nice talk with George about how he kept on top of all the bodies that kept piling up in his bar.