[FINISHED]One of the best known original m/m romances in Russia, loved by many. It won the Russian Wattys 2015 Award, now it's available in English too.
Alva Ahayrre is a Creedan nobleman and a courtier, a beautiful and frivolous redhead...
In the morning, the two foreign ladies and their bodyguard graced with their presence the main hall of the "Blessed Garden." They drew every glance and caused every mouth to gape. Shirvan himself remembered the opened tap only when the wine had started spilling all over the floor. It really was quite a sight. Even the motley overcrowded Isfahan rarely saw the likes of these three.
The older of the two women, the redhead, looked like a queen in exile. Her beauty was splendid, her attire was rich, but it was her truly regal self-assurance and the knowledge of her power over others that ensured tens of hands would clash over a dropped handkerchief in the hopes of one kindly smile. Even in a crowd of wealthy merchants, she looked like a bird of paradise that had errantly flown into a hovel. A blossom as exotic and delicate as this, was meant to bloom in the height of luxury, recline on precious carpets and eat off golden plates. Shirvan the One-Eyed had heard it said, of course, that in the North, beyond the Wild Steppe, every beautiful woman thought herself a queen, but this was his first encounter with the living proof.
Although, once he got over the first shock, Shirvan came to find the red-haired lady a little vulgar. A proper woman would never smile at men this way, and certainly never flaunt herself in this fashion. Shirvan liked the lady's companion much better, even though the girl paled next to the splendid lady, like a lily before a rose. The other girl was flawless: she had beautiful almond-shaped eyes, rimmed in kohl, lily-white skin, and a willowy figure barely perceptible underneath the black folds of her robe, and so even more likely to inflame the imagination. Her modestly lowered eyelashes, soft voice, and the habit of veiling half her face in the Arislani fashion utterly seduced Shirvan. The lady's virtue was apparent.
The servants had already informed him that the pale girl was in mourning for her husband, untimely deceased. Shirvan contemplated her dainty fingers, her delicate swan's neck with its single strand of pearls, and mused. Was there a way to make the lady of the veil consider a new husband and join one's household as a third wife? For example, as his, Shirvan's third wife? Not even, because for this lily of the North, he would have sent his other two wives back to their parents!
The fantasies were delightful, but remained nothing but fantasies. It was quite evident that the ladies were very affectionate with one another, and would not be inclined to be parted. In Shirvan's experience, women like that could be married only together. In fact, that's exactly how he had come by his own two wives, and that was a lot more bothersome than one wife and a few concubines would have been.
The ladies were accompanied by the broad-shouldered barbarian with a longsword at his back. Shirvan had met him already. The steppe-dweller's clothing consisted only of tight leather pants; presumably, to display his fine muscles, battle scars and a couple of daggers in his belt. Shirvan could have bet that a throwing knife or two was hiding in the barbarian's boots, and his braids easily held ten poisoned darts.
Shirvan was not surprised that the ladies were traveling with only one bodyguard. The inn-keeper had seen the barbarians in action enough times to recognize fighting skill and cold-blooded competence under the guise of apathy. A warrior like that was worth ten ordinary men. Shirvan hoped the fellow would be able to handle most troubles that lay in store for two beautiful women in this city.
That still left the question, however, of what made a barbarian (bound to despise females) choose to serve them. After observing them for a while, Shirvan came to a conclusion that the redhead was carrying on with the bodyguard. A woman like that could make you forget all about the boys, no doubt.
After dinner, the two charming ladies attentively listened to Shirvan's suggestions, thus becoming even more firmly entrenched in his affections, and left to explore the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aforementioned Ozra Ottarcha and Weistle Wizayrre are Alva's close friends from the Royal Guard. They are characters in a story 'Close Friends and Lovers', not yet translated. After breaking up with his abusive boyfriend (which Leitis Lysander saved him from, literally - she had a duel with the boyfriend on Alva's behest) Alva wasn't much interested in men for some years, and only Ozra and Weistle's gentle persuasion, a lot of wine and a night of lovemaking with both of them cured Alva and made him totally bisexual again XDD
There are two very cute pictures of Ozra and Weistle in different styles, by different artists.
Wei and Oz, fanart by Talleran
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Wei and Oz (in a dress), by Fururin
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
