Vayal Academy

We’ve just both gotten back into our uniforms when the cave fades around us, placing us back on the grassy field, beneath thousands of eyes. Oh Gods, they didn’t see all that, did they?

We — as in, the team — are off to the side, along with Drive. The Reason team take the third-place podium, Diligence second, and Invention first. Syrene seems strangely calm as the gold medal’s draped around her neck — maybe Alyx was right after all.

“Fucking idiot,” Katarina hisses. “You fucked us.”

“We got four more swings at it,” Alyx says, with a shrug. “It wasn’t really about winning anyway.”

“Maybe not to you! I wanted to! And I would’ve! If you’d just let me do what needed to be done.”

Indel defuses the argument by barrelling right through it without a care. “Oh, my dearest Hattie, to be separated from you has been such torture.” She wraps her arms around me, and Alyx clasps her back.

“Princess, a whole new world just opened up for you.”

“What does she mean, my love?”

“I’ll, uh, tell you later.” I don’t want to purple in front of the entire school.

As the ceremony wraps up, Syrene marches over and puts a firm arm around Nym. “Oh, shit,” Alyx says, smiling. “Listen, no hard feelings about in there, right? You’re all competitive with these things a-”

It dies in her throat as Syrene takes her voice. She jabs her with an angry finger. “If you ever go near my girlfriend again I will fuckingkill you.”

Alyx blinks and says something in reply, but Syrene doesn’t give her voice back until she and Nym are well away. “Dude. She’s like, actually upset with me.”

“You’ve been fucking her girlfriend,” I say.

“Yeah but like, there’s a lot of that going on, you know? That’s part of the Vayal Experience.”

Mathilde and Katarina quietly shuffle off — I realise Abana’s already gone, and don’t care to know where.

“Well, my love, the Gauntlet is concluded and all prepare to celebrate — shall we retire to my apartments? I shall reward you as befits a victor.” But before she’s even finished asking, Alyx has an arm around my waist, hooking me away.

“Sorry, Princess — we have something to attend to first.”

We find Mae waiting for us just outside the Sky Dome’s side entrance, hands demurely behind her back, slight sway to her body as her moon eyes stare. “Soooooo. What happened after the trap blew up? The feed cut.”

I’m about to tell her, because she’s Mae, and I tell her everything, but Alyx shakes her head and stops me. “That’s private, Mae. Maybe we’ll tell you; maybe we’ll keep it to ourselves. But we have business.”

“Well, Hattie and I have business. She won the contest, fair and square, unless there’s been some issue with the scoring I didn’t realise.”

“No such issue, none at all — but there is a new development: I’m Hattie’s plus one.”

“What? I thought you two both understood: three is just too complicated! But, I suppose, if she insists, and the two of you are happy to go at each other while I sit back and watch…”

I cut in. “I wouldn’t have been an hour ago. But now I am. Let’s go to your room.”

“Gods. What happened in that cave?”

On what feels like the most arduous march I’ve ever been forced upon — my entire body’s burning in anticipation; I’ve been waiting for so, so long — Mae nearly pries a thorough, detailed account of the cave from me, but Alyx manages to intercept it each time.

Once we hit the rooms, Alyx kisses Mae, who waves her off and pushes her against me. She kisses me just as passionately, and I return it, to a smile and giggle from Mae. “Wow, you two musta really connected.”

We did, and we are, and I can’t remember why I ever tried to fight this. Alyx’s lips feel so good against mine.

Alyx and I crash through the door, into Mae’s comfy room, with the light filtering through like globs of honey trailing from the knife, into the warmth and security and pure, head-pounding excitement, but when I peek out I see Mae standing at the door, somewhat confused, rather than heading straight for the bed as you’d expect.

“Hi?” she says.

There’s no reply. Alyx keeps her hands on my hips and her lips against mine, but I manage to disentangle myself enough to see her — gold furred and pissed, cross-legged on the bed like she’s meditating. Syrene holds her paw out flat; a burst of blue light coalesces like swarming fireflies, forming a message: 3-2-1.

“Are you counting down?” Mae asks, and Syrene shakes her head — she lifts the gold medal around her neck and the light glints off it. “Oh! Interesting. Girls, we have another entrant, I think.”

That finally gets Alyx to stop kissing my neck, which does make it easier to think. She wheels around, body twitching slightly, and starts to say, “Hey, I’m like, really-” and then her voice is gone. A moment later it’s back, from the other side of the room.

“I won.”

“You weren’t even part of it,” I say.

“Well hold on a second, Hattie.” Gods damn it. Of course. Mae would never pass up an opportunity to tease us, to make us wait. “Nothing wrong with a late entry. But I’m curious about her figures. There’s the solo race and the Cross Country. What’s three?”

Syrene stands right before us, smiling serenely. Alyx waves her hands for our attention, moves her mouth soundlessly, frantically; I wish I had a way to help her.

In lieu of reply, Syrene holds up a flat palm and blows. Golden light sinks into my skin. “Wha?” I start, but fall to my knees before I can answer. Alyx isn’t waving her arms anymore; she’s out cold, along with Mae.

“No hard feelings, Hattie,” Syrene says. “We’re classmates — and friends, I like to think. But your dog’s off her leash, and that reflects poorly on you. I’m sure you understand.” She holds a glowing finger to her lips, wipes a shimmering residue across them like lipstick. A quick kiss knocks me out.

The dream swims before me, foggy as the Sky Dome showers between matches. Mostly there’s just the sensation of noise, pounding — hoofbeat, I think. The landscape shifts in time with the rhythm; roads twist, hills rise, valleys plunge, fields quiver. And then, with the sudden immediacy of an arriving fireball, the dream cuts into stunning clarity.

No. Not a dream. A memory.

I lean against the wall, eyes narrowed against the blare of cycling lights. I enjoy a party here or there, of course I do, but everyone overdoes it with the lights, and the music — you just need a few good drinks (maybe some wisterwile for the introspective and harpyclaw for the extroverted), a place to dance where the music doesn’t fill the whole rest of the party, and plenty of room to smoke and chat.

But then, how could I expect that from Princess Coruscanter’s party? I knew what I was getting into.

(This sort of breezy, focused but plodding memory, where I’m deep in Syrene’s head and hearing her thoughts, lasts a few minutes — most of which are devoted to shamelessly eyeing different horse girls in their short shorts and tube tops — until Alyx stumbles in, arm around Nym like she owns her. At that point it all becomes blurry, blinded by rage, and I see only the barest glimpses of Nym bundled into and locked inside the walk in robe. Clarity doesn’t resume until…)

I’m walking up behind Coruscanter, who’s in the middle of refilling a drink when my hands find her waist. The much taller woman turns around and looks down her long face at me, the bold little mouse. Most of the party is gathered round Alyx, scoring claw and other powders — the handful of eyes on us seem only vaguely interested.

Whisper’s good to me. Even back in his cage, in my room, my Familiar holds onto trinkets pilfered down every link I establish. My hand on her side pulses with Nym’s magic, but no Grand Illusion is needed for the pretty horse, who already looks down at me with big, interested eyes. I show her just a single image, a proposition.

Her, on her knees beneath the bar, hidden from the rest of the party — me, fighting to keep composed as she services me. I drop the image and tilt my head, questioning.

She laughs out loud, drunken and trilling. “What a pretty picture! You really think you could handle that, though?” she leans in close to me, so our noses are almost touching, studies my face. “Gods, though — you seem so fun!”

She drops to her knees, beneath the bench, which I immediately rest my elbows on, so I can accept her attention without collapsing because Gods is she good. My head collapses against the bar. If I had a voice right now, I’d be crying out. I tilt my head slightly to see the other horses staring, and then turn back, burying my head in my arms and focusing entirely on the pleasure. They can watch; not like I care. I’m only doing this because of Nym’s babbled explanation about Alyx’s Princess contest — with a simple spell I check the time, and see I got in three minutes before signups closed.

I get to be me again, and the first thing I notice is the tight bindings around my chest, pinning my arms against me, digging into the skin. My muscles flex against them, but they don’t so much as loosen. In fact the more I wriggle, the tighter they get.

The beautiful warm light is gone — it’s night, now, and we’re not even in Mae’s room. We’re in Alyx’s, amongst the stinking heat and overgrown walls. I’m up against one, vines strangling up my legs, all the way round me to my neck. It’s a better deal than Alyx, who’s stuck suspended from the ceiling in a sinewy cocoon, everything covered but her nose. At least I get to be the right way up — all that blood pooling in her head…

Gosh, the thought of it makes my stomach flip. I don’t want Alyx to get hurt. I’m pretty sure she’s my girlfriend, now — yet as much as I wish for a burst of strength, something to free her, nothing comes.

“Good. You’re up.” It’s Nym’s voice, but the elf remains nowhere to be seen. Syrene flicks a purple light into my forehead, then whips the other end into Alyx. “She’ll see what you do. So it’s up to you how much of this she gets; it’d mean a lot to me if you showed her everything.”

I’m set up with a perfect view of Alyx’s bed, and the ever-gorgeous Mae, who’s just now coming back to consciousness. “I had the hottest dream,” she mumbles, dazed, as her eyes flutter open and she assesses the strange sight before her. “Woah, wha-”

And like that Syrene’s on the bed, straddling Mae, hand in her hair, yanking her head back so she stares up. “Who won your contest?” she asks.

“We didn’t really seem to-” Syrene pulls harder on her hair and Mae moans out, “you did.”

“So who gets to fuck you?”

“Y-you do.”

“Really? You’d give in so easily? And right in front of these two?”

“I-”

Syrene slaps her across the face and my heart jumps. Every muscle activates but the vines just slither tighter. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes.”

SMACK. Another slap, across the other cheek. Both burn bright red. “You’re just gonna let me hit you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Because you belong to me?”

“Yes.”

“Look at Hattie.”

She turns to me, eyes utterly inscrutable. Every attempt to parse the mix of genuine fear and uncontrollable arousal and maybe even a bit of guilt (by far the most unusual thing to see on Mae’s face) is shattered by the stinging paw marks on her cheeks, which make me thrash and scream, “Stop it!”

“Take your blouse off,” Syrene says, and Mae does, slowly, hands unhooking each button with a reverence reserved for dressing an open-casket corpse. “Now the bra.” And I just have to watch, powerless, as Syrene’s fingers close around a tit, her hand where mine should be. I’ve waited and waited and fought to exhaustion for this, and here she is, swooping in at the last minute.

“Syrene, please,” I whine, and she just shrugs.

“Mae, take my skirt off.” While Mae works, she refocuses on me. “That your friend hanging from the ceiling, or your girlfriend?”

You knew the moment you saw her up there. The moment concern twisted in your stomach.

“Girlfriend. I love her.”

“Leave her, and you can have Mae.” With a tug on Mae’s hair she forces her head down and her hips up, hiking her skirt so her perfect ass is facing me. “All to yourself. She’ll do whatever you want if you know how to ask. Isn’t that right?” Mae, face in the blanket, nods vigorously.

“I told you, I love her. I- I can’t.” Nobody’s more surprised to hear the words out of my mouth than me. As much as I hate to admit it, two hours ago I’d have taken the deal on the spot. Right now, I can’t even articulate to myself why I’m so attached to Alyx, other than the obvious the-sex-was-really-good; there’s just something inside me, something real and wriggling and alive — destiny.

“If you love her, teach her to keep her hands to herself.” Syrene slips her underwear off, leans up against the wall, and pulls Mae’s head between her thighs. The sound of it drives me insane. “Make her understand I can take a lot fucking more from her — and anyone who stands by her — than this cheap whore.” Mae makes some kind of noise, which earns a sharp flick of Syrene’s whip-thin tail across her ass. “Pull your panties down,” and without a second thought Mae reaches back and does it, skirt too, totally naked, totally on display, totally Syrene’s, when she should be MINE. The vines wriggle.

Syrene’s eyes go to the Alyx-cocoon dangling from the ceiling. A hand presses Mae’s face against her, her hips grind, buck, chest rising and falling, back curling, moans dying amidst the insulating plants. “This is the girl you’ve been- hoh- obsessed with. Every-hh-everyone’s talking about it. But I’m fucking her face and- and- and-” She twists, forcing Mae onto her back and planting her knees either side of her head, moving faster, “and fuck, she’s good at this.”

From the thousand of thoughts buzzing in my brain like marshflies, the one that makes its way to the fore as Syrene cums, loudly and greedily, is Gods it’s really fucking weird to hear all of this in Nym’s voice. The strangeness of it creates some sort of distance, some insulation, like it’s all an illusion. But of course, I’d have seen through it by now.

There has to be some way to get Alyx down. I- look, Mae is clearly having a good time. I hate to admit it, but this sort of thing is right up her alley; it’s Alyx who’s suffering. Alyx and you!

Panting over Mae, Syrene looks from the cocoon to me, then back, then fixes her eyes right on me, grinning like a wildcat. “You two have fun with my fucking table scraps.” With a rough grip on Mae’s hair she holds her in place and says, “I can do whatever I want to you.”

“Yes,” Mae half says, half moans.

“You might wanna close your eyes.”

She does. She screws them tight, protecting herself from the spray of — I can’t fucking believe it, I can’t fucking believe it, the audacity, that she would do that to Mae, to Mae the Goddess, it’s- — the spray of piss, splattering across her face and seeping into Alyx’s bed.

The vines tear with the sound of ripped paper, and in a second I’ve got Syrene up against the wall, holding her by the shoulders, snarling in her face. “BITCH!”

She squirms, but I’ve got her. I can’t kill another student but I sure as hell want to. I want to make her suffer. To make her pay.

I can hurt her. I’m sure I can get away with-

Mae’s hand taps my ankle, snapping my head down. “Mae?”

“Sorry,” she says, beet red, as the sedation takes hold and I collapse into another sleep.