Page 34 of Fated in A Time of War

KRALL

T he planet under us has no name I recognize—just a quiet green world, stretching out in gentle hills and sunlit plains.

As the ship’s landing gear touches the soil, I’m caught off guard by the hush hovering in the air.

No thrumming generators, no surveillance drones blipping in the sky. Just peaceful, open space.

The structures are simple, functional—rows of prefab housing with rounded roofs, low and clean, built for living not war.

Solar arrays gleam at odd angles in the fields, tucked between spiral gardens that wind like DNA helixes.

I catch the scent of fresh soil and blooming vines that curve around those gardens.

It makes me feel like I’ve landed inside a dream.

Alice is already stepping off the ship, every sense alive. I follow, clothes stiff and boots still gritty from Tanuki. The ground beneath me tastes like a promise.

We walk among the spiraling gardens. People glance our way—not suspicious, just curious.

No orders called. No guards raised. Just neighbors watching newcomers from a world so different.

One kid trails behind two gardeners, water can in hand, offering me a shy smile. I respond awkwardly, mind roiling.

Here, I don’t fit.

I’m too large. These folks are lean and small, not armored battlescarred soldiers. My voice bounces through the town square like a bad guest, too loud. The way they slow when I pass, eyes flicking to each scar, questions buried behind polite smiles—reminds me of my old reflection as a weapon first.

But Alice, she moves like she belongs.

She’s already at the clinic building, dishing out trays of meds. She hands a soothing jar to a woman with worry-lines young for age, and the woman relaxes, breathing easier. Her voice—just her words, "You’re safe now,"—makes people smile a little easier.

I catch her afterward. She brushes her hair back from her face, eyes radiant and calm.

“How long until contact?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not needed. Not unless we ask.”

That’s League space for you.

No patrols. No ranks. No bullet orders. Just people. Living. Healing.

She wears no robes. No symbols. Just plain, clean earth-toned clothes.

But she carries her faith in the steadiness of her gaze, the gentle curve of her shoulders, the way she kneels for a wounded child.

I feel like I’m still the savage creature from the fields—not the man who saved someone by ripping apart a war machine’s spine.

She tugs me into the clinic.

Inside, it’s bright. Smooth floors, earthy colors, soft chatter. A child with burn-stippled skin lies on a cot, breathing steady. Alice talks to him like he's already whole.

I lean against a doorframe. She catches my eye. No fear. No question. Just quiet pride.

I step forward, lower voice. “Teach me.”

She smiles and hands me a bandage. Clasping it, I feel warmth fill where my coldness has been. But this place—it’s bigger than me. I’m not sure yet who I am in it.

I’m still warrior.

Still scarred.

Because we didn’t just escape. We landed in possibility.

I’m not treated like a soldier here. Not anymore.

Each morning, I wake to the soft hum of the solar collector lines powering our humble water purifier. Alice is already there before sunrise, humming under her breath as she adjusts the panels, eyes closed, face tilted like she’s hearing the sun speak.

“Come work,” she says—her voice always gentle, never hesitant—like an invitation into a world I once thought I had no place in. Her hand brushes mine as I clip in a support beam, and she doesn’t flinch. No fear. Just trust.

So I stay.

I help build that purifier—hands once made for combat now steady with purpose. I weld pipes, align mirrors, and finally watch as liquid gold cascades from the tempered glass turbine: clean water, born from the sun. I taste it—metal sweet with proof of her world’s soft resilience.

I learn names. Mira, the girl with new freckles, brings me a glass of that water one afternoon. She doesn’t flinch at my size—but laughs instead when I nearly spill it from the heat. “Careful, warrior,” she teases.

I laugh too, it turns out. I don’t know I still have laughter left.

The days become puzzles: feeding the gardener vegetables grown in spiral plots, sharing soup in the courtyard, guiding visiting ataxian exiles through the garden. My growl still rumbles sometimes—my predator’s echo—but I learn to let it vanish. Children no longer hide. They wave.

One night, when the sky is wide with stars unshadowed by smoke, Alice drags me to the rooftop of our quarters.

The wind is soft. The air smells of jasmine weave and solar panels cooling in the moonlight.

“Look,” she says, hand in mine, eyes lifted to constellations I still don’t know. “I used to think I’d die on Horus.”

The words come slow.

She turns to me, and I see her bare skin glow under lunar light.

“I expected to. Wanted to, maybe.”

I swallow the wind in my chest, the memory of blood and darkness; I nod.

I take her hand, and everything in me stills.

“I’m glad we didn’t.”

Her thumb strokes my palm.

Then she kisses me.

It’s not desperation. It’s not war. It’s not the fight I’ve known.

It’s light. Searching. Gentle.

It fills me with something I thought the war buried—hope.

The stars above us glitter, bright and cold and infinite. They remind me of the war—of silence, of survival—but they don’t matter now. Not while she’s here, beneath me, wrapped in jasmine and moonlight.

Alyssa’s breath comes soft. Her bare back presses against the warm rooftop tile, pale skin glowing against the dusky red stone. The scent of her—jasmine, sweat, and something singularly hers—threads through the night and tangles around my thoughts like a net I don’t want to escape.

Her eyes search mine, intense and open. She doesn’t fear me—not the claws, not the scales, not the weight I carry in my limbs and past. She only sees me. Me. Krall. Not a warrior. Not a creature. Just… the male who’s given her his heart.

She reaches for me with both hands, fingers slipping over the curve of my jaw, brushing the black patterning on my cheeks. I lean into her touch, my breath catching. It’s not instinct—it’s need. Not for her body alone, but for the peace that only she can anchor inside me.

“I’m here,” she whispers.

My chest tightens. “I know. I feel it everywhere.”

The kiss starts soft—my mouth seeking hers, lips brushing gently. But the moment we connect, the heat roars back to life. My claws flex against the rooftop tile before I brace one hand beside her head and slide my other arm under her lower back, lifting her just enough so our bodies align.

She arches. Her thighs spread for me, welcoming. I’m so large compared to her, so heavy and different—thick red scales, dense muscle, clawed fingers that could rend armor. And yet… she invites me in like I’m nothing but beloved.

I groan low, rolling my hips forward, letting the weight of my cock drag along her slick heat. She shivers beneath me.

“Krall…” she breathes, her voice like wind through chimes.

“Say it again,” I growl, pressing my lips to her neck.

“Krall,” she repeats, fingers tangling in the short, dark hair at the base of my skull.

I drag my tongue along her collarbone, tasting sweat, salt, her. My ridged cock pulses against her entrance, thick and aching. She’s ready. Gods, she’s so ready, and I can smell it—feel it in the way her body arches, how her hips lift in silent permission.

Still, I hesitate.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper, my voice raw with restraint.

“You won’t,” she says, eyes locked to mine. “I trust you.”

I nod once and press forward.

The heat of her wraps around me inch by inch, and I fight not to shake. She’s so tight, her pussy clenching already, and I can feel every flutter of muscle as she stretches around my cock. My claws dig into the tile again, anchoring me while I ease my way inside her.

“Fuck,” she gasps, arms around my neck. “You’re… so deep.”

“Too much?” I ask, panting.

She shakes her head, eyes fluttering. “No. Perfect. ”

I rock my hips slowly, testing, adjusting, watching every flicker of her expression. Her lips part. Her breath stutters. Her nails scrape my scales, and I feel her body open for me fully, greedily.

Then I move.

Slow at first—each thrust a prayer. She moans with each one, hips rising to meet mine. The wet sounds of our joining echo beneath the stars. My cock slides into her pussy over and over, and I feel her body start to tremble, tension coiling in her belly.

“You feel… gods, Alyssa, you feel like fire.”

“And you…” She gasps as I thrust harder. “You fill me like no one ever could.”

I growl, leaning in to bite gently at her shoulder. “Because you were meant for me.”

Her legs lock around my waist, heels pressing against the thick scales of my lower back. Her pussy clenches tight around my cock, pulling me deeper. Her moans grow louder, more frantic, and I know she’s close.

“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Please, Krall, don’t stop?—”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Her orgasm rips through her like lightning, and she screams my name, voice cracking on the last syllable. Her body jerks beneath me, her pussy spasming around my cock as I thrust once, twice more, and then I lose control.

My climax hits like a quake. I roar against her neck, spilling deep inside her, heat pulsing in thick bursts as I bury myself to the hilt. My muscles shake with the force of it, and all I can do is hold her.

For a long while, neither of us moves.

Her breathing evens out beneath me, chest rising and falling against mine. My arms wrap around her, tucking her close, my face buried in her hair. She smells like moonlight and mercy. Like something I thought I’d never deserve.

“I love you,” I murmur, my voice barely audible above the night breeze.

She stirs in my arms. “I love you more than this world,” she whispers back.

And in that moment, beneath the alien stars, beneath gods that have long since stopped listening, I believe her.