Luther's Pride Part 15

The celebration of Luther and Helena’s wedding spread through the garden of their estate. Many promised gifts, but given the sudden nature of the wedding, neither Luther nor Helena took offense at their absence. Drink flowed through the garden, and servants served desserts on small plates for anyone who wanted sweet pastries. 

The second priest arrived amidst the celebration, and Wulfric showed him to the gardens. Jo met the wrinkled older priest at the square's opening and explained the situation before Luther approached. He and Helena stood before the old man, dressed in their white wedding robes. 

The old man’s long and gnarled fingers wrapped around Luther’s forearm in a shake, and he repeated the gesture with Helena. “You wish to be united with these two?” He asked Jo with a voice full of aged gravel. 

Jo nodded. “I know it’s not typical to move this quickly, but–” 

“Eh. It’s not my first time seeing these done back to back.” The priest waved her off. “During the last invasion, we performed plenty of union rituals. Sometimes four or five in a day.” 

“I wasn’t born then.” Jo admitted, smiling. 

“Eh?” The priest shrugged. “No matter. You’re Cerebrion’s son then, eh?” He looked at Luther. “I remember you. You and that Asmodean girl etched a rude word into the cherry tree at the edge of the temple.” 

Luther raised an eyebrow. “That was me, yes. When I was eight.” 

“I trust you’ve learned more respect for nature since then?” The old priest smiled. 

“Yes, sir.” Luther said, constraining his laughter. 

“Good.” The old priest nodded. “Let’s get on with it, then. Jo, I’ll take your vestments. You get changed, and we can get this ritual done.” 

Jo nodded and stepped away with Wulfric as he led her to the house to change. The old priest followed, falling behind but remembering his way through the hedges. Luther and Helena smiled at each other. 

“No objection to Jo joining our union?” Luther asked. “She doesn’t need to wrestle you?” 

“Jo would decimate me in a match right now.” Helena laughed. “Even a friendly spar. I’m tired, and so are you. Even our combined might wouldn’t be enough to match her fresh.” 

“Fair point.” Luther conceded. “Though I don’t know how mighty her Arcana is.” 

“She’s strong.” Helena confirmed. “I’ve seen her do spells that would have emptied a weaker woman. I suppose that meditation and prayer has a purpose.” 

Luther nodded. “The benefits of meditation can surprise you. But I’m glad you’ve no objection.” 

Helena smiled, kissing her new husband on his forehead before she turned to see Criella approaching. 

“Do you feel any different?” Criella asked Luther. “Have you discovered any new magic?” 

“I haven’t had the time to examine myself.” Luther said, glancing at Helena. “But the feeling is certainly different. I can sense Helena’s presence, even when I’m not looking at her. As if her eyes are on me. If that makes any sense.” 

Criella nodded, acknowledging Helena. “You have good taste in husbands.” She said, smiling. “And you’ve excellent taste in women.” She said to Luther. 

“I absolutely do.” Luther said, staring back at Criella. 

She nodded and produced a book, passing it to Luther. “The same signatures as before.” She explained, letting him, then Helena, sign off on their upcoming nuptials with Jo. She left them, standing apart from the rest in the hedge’s shadow. 

Helena looked at Luther. “So, more than friends, then.” She raised an eyebrow. 

Luther looked at Helena. “Yes. I would also want her to join our union if she was willing.” 

“Is she unwilling because of me?” Helena asked. “Are her tastes too narrow?” 

“No.” Luther said. “I think because she’s worried it will hurt my chances of pursuing others, and she wants me to survive fighting Branan. She has it in her head the others won’t marry me if she’s part of the union.” 

“She has a point.” Helena said, then raised her hands when Luther glared at her. “I’m not saying I object to her joining us, but not everyone is as open-minded. Many people in our parent’s generation or older would balk at the idea.” 

Luther frowned.  

“Cheer up, husband.” Helena said. “After we defeat Branan, I’ll help you woo your Asmodean.” She smirked. “But she’s right about not being useful against that blow-hard. Criella’s not a fighter. She’s a solicitor. She’d be useless in a challenge.” 

Luther shrugged. “We’re fighters enough, I suppose.” He said. 

“And Jo.” Helena said. “And the twins wish to join us?” She asked, looking toward the Verdell family. 

“Yes.” Luther agreed. “They said something about tomorrow.” 

“And Holly and Emily are attractive young ladies.” Helena prompted. “I wouldn’t mind being bound to them, either.” 

“And more besides.” Luther said. “I’m sure the estate has plenty of room for us.” 

“Indeed.” Helena said. “You’ll have to give me a more thorough tour of our new home, but later.” She patted his arm. “Jo and the old priest are here.” She nodded toward the entryway, and Jo stepped into view in her white robe, her ebony hair cascading against the fabric. 

The sash tied off at her waist kept her robe modest, but the open V of the neck showed an enticing cleft between her breasts. Jo's clothes as a priest were so voluminous they’d hid her figure and build. She was temple-trained and had the trained physique that Helena and Luther did if not more muscle. She raised her arm and waved to Luther and Helena, and the robe fell back to show a well-toned limb with all the softness of stone. 

“Well…” Luther said, looking at Helena. “Are you ready for another partner, my lady?” 

“Yes, my lord.” Helena said, taking his arm. “I’m looking forward to our union being recognized as the strongest, and Jowangshin will certainly aid us in that.” 

The old priest, Jo, Luther, and Helena, moved to the dais. The crowd spread out around them, looking in once more. 

The old man cleared his throat and raised his hands in greeting. “I, Priest Mireuk of the Temple, greet you and welcome you to this celebration of love and might. We gather to join these souls together forevermore. Let us pray.” 

Luther glanced at Helena on his left, then Jo on his right. Both bowed their heads as the old man began his song in the ancient language, and Luther listened. Already, the older priest proved more liturgical, but Luther couldn’t hold that against him. 

When the old man finished his songful prayer, he reached for Helena and Jo’s hands, joining them in front of Luther. Luther added his hand to the pile, and the old man smiled. “Luther Le Fey, Helena Cerul, and Priestess Jowangshin. The three of you join this union freely and wilfully?” 

“I do.” Helena, Jo, and Luther said together. 

“You are sober and of sound mind?” 

“I am.” They said. 

“You understand the permanency of this ritual and will endure no matter what hardships may lie ahead?” 

“I will.” They agreed. 

“You wish to be bound together in body, mind, and soul?” 

“I wish.” The three of them answered. 

“Is there anyone who does not consent to this union?” He asked, looking between them. No one spoke. 

“Is there anyone here who can attest why these three should not join themselves together?” He asked. 

No one spoke. 

The priest’s thirty seconds lasted a quarter minute longer than Jo’s had. 

“Very well.” The old man raised his hands, though not over his head as Jo had. 

Luther, Jo, and Helena lifted their hands skyward, uniting themselves in a triangle as they held hands with each other. 

The old man’s singing voice was deeper and worn but throaty and resonant. His diction was clear as he sang each word with a precision Luther respected. The ancient language filled the square again, and the guests watched as the old man untied Luther’s sash first, then Helena’s, then Jo’s. Their robes hung open, and their eyes wandered low. 

They released their hands and rolled their shoulders, letting the robes fall away. The old man circled them, knotting the sashes as he went. His eyes focused on the next place his foot fell, taking care not to slip or step on anyone’s garment. 

Jo’s body was a slab of muscle, with her body fat gathered in two places on her chest. To Luther’s surprise, she was wiry, but the shape of her hips and bust was distinctly feminine. Her palms were soft as she retook their hands, and Luther noticed her eyes were still on his body when the old priest draped the sash over Luther’s shoulders. 

The swell of magic pressed against him again, pulling him toward the center of their three-person circle. The spell wove around them, and they stepped closer, closing the circle as they embraced one another. Helena’s breasts pressed into Luther’s side on his left, and Jo’s pressed into him from the right. 

Luther let Jo and Helena kiss first, and then Luther kissed Jo. The kiss was soft and pleasant, with less hunger than Helena’s kiss and more leisure. Jo was a patient woman and lover. She did not hurry but took her time as the priest continued his song. 

They sank to the mat, tangled together with the women on either side of Luther, each with a leg hooked over his. Helena kissed his neck and moved her leg so Jo could slide under her thigh. Still entangled with the two of them, Luther entered Jo from below, closing his eyes as her warmth welcomed him. Jo and Helena kissed, Helena’s hand pressing against Jo where her body joined Luther’s. 

The power between them fluxed, then flooded. The magic surged through Luther’s limbs and chest as if he were being washed away by the ocean tide. His eyes opened as he stared into Jo, a reservoir of magical strength he hadn’t realized. Compared to Helena’s, her small stature and soft manners belied her strength of spirit. She smiled, looking at Luther, and kissed him. There was something else between them, he realized. More than magic. He grew aware of her happiness and her lust, but mostly her joy, there beside his and Helena’s. 

Helena kissed Jo’s neck, and Jo clamped against Luther as he filled her. The power of the ritual coursed through them, stoking their strength and arousal until the dam burst, and the three under the spell shook with release. The song ended, and they laid on their backs. Luther gazed at the stars above while Helena and Jo gazed at each other.

The old priest blanketed them with their robes, the sash having done little to protect their modesty. Luther thought he would mind the observed consummation more than he did. He’d attended weddings as a guest before, but this was how they performed the ritual. There was nothing strange nor shameful in the practice. This was a beautiful moment, and he was glad to have both women beside him. 

The old man raised his hands over them. “May the gods of heaven bless your union, and may you prove mighty!” 

“To your might!” The guests chorused, and Luther smiled. 

The strength in Luther’s limbs flexed as he stood with Helena and Jo. They held hands once they were on their feet, breaking contact only to pull their robes on and retie their sashes. When finished, they raised their hands together toward the sky, and the guests cheered once again, applauding. 

“To your union!” Bertilak cried. 

“To our union!” Luther, Helena, and Jo chorused. 

Luther sought Criella’s eyes once more, but she did not meet his gaze as she looked anywhere but at him. 

The others surged forward, shaking hands, clapping shoulders, promising gifts, and congratulating the three newlyweds on their union. Yes, they rushed the ceremony compared to the typical betrothals, but they were wealthy enough that no one cared. Everyone was in good cheer, and no one thought or mentioned the looming threat of Branan’s forthcoming challenge. Only Criella seemed to spare a thought for it as she watched the trio.

Luther let the party continue. The guests meandered into the house, walking, talking, drinking, and feasting well into the night. When they stopped celebrating, the servants led the guests to spare rooms where they could sleep off their good cheer. Meanwhile, Luther, Helena, and Jo made their way to their newly shared bed, though none planned on sleeping for a while.