Lord's taboo harem

As Jorgan stepped through the door, the warmth of the house greeted him, but something felt different. His mother turned to him with an unusual urgency in her eyes.

"Jorgan," she said softly, though her tone carried a weight that made him pause, "for the next couple of days, I need you to stay inside. Don't leave the house, no matter what."

He frowned, puzzled. "Why, Mother? Did something happen?"

She hesitated, her hands trembling as she folded them in front of her apron. "Please, just trust me on this. Promise me you'll stay."

Before he could press further, his grandmother stepped in from the kitchen, her face lined with worry. "Listen to your mother, child," she said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stay inside. It's for your own good."

Though confused, Jorgan saw the plea in their eyes and nodded reluctantly. "Alright. I'll stay," he said, not wanting to upset them.

The first day passed uneventfully, but by the second, Jorgan's curiosity burned brighter than his restraint. As his mother sat mending clothes by the fire, he approached her, his voice calm but determined.

"Mother," he began, "you need to tell me what's going on. Why can't I leave? What's out there?"

She stilled, her hands clutching the fabric tightly. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came at first. Finally, she drew in a shaky breath and said, "Do you remember what I told you about your father?"

Jorgan blinked. "You told me he was dead."

Her expression wavered, pain flashing in her eyes. "No, Jorgan. He isn't dead."

He froze, trying to process her words. "What are you saying? Where is he?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, as though afraid of being overheard. "He's here... in the village."

Jorgan stared at her, his mind reeling. "Here? Now? Why didn't you tell me before?"

The evening shadows lengthened across Jorgan's room as he sat perfectly still, processing the revelation that had shattered his understanding of his own history. The dragon heart's power still pulsed through his veins, but for once, magic was far from his thoughts.

His mother's tears still glistened on her cheeks as she and his grandmother had finally revealed the truth they'd hidden for sixteen years. Their words echoed in his mind, each one landing like a physical blow.

"Lord Kaidren," he whispered the name, testing its weight on his tongue. The regional lord – the man who had taken his mother against the backdrop of duty and power. A noble who saw village women as mere playthings, who could destroy families with impunity.

Through the window, Jorgan could see torches being lit in the village square. The lord's retinue had arrived with the sunset, their presence casting a pall of fear over the usually peaceful community. Even now, he could hear the nervous whispers of villagers hurrying to their homes, doors being barred, children being hushed.

His grandmother's weathered hands had trembled as she'd explained: "The village head had no choice but to comply. When Lord Kaidren demands something, refusal means death. Your mother... she sacrificed herself to protect our village."

Sera, his beloved mother, had been unable to meet his eyes as she spoke of that night. "I never wanted you to know shame or pain because of your birth," she had whispered. "You were my light in the darkness, my precious son. I thought... I thought we were safe, that he would never return."

Jorgan moved to the window, his enhanced senses picking up details in the gathering darkness. The lord's guards were positioned strategically throughout the village, their armor bearing the crest of a golden lion on a crimson field. Their presence was both a show of power and a cage, ensuring no one could leave or enter without their knowledge.

The irony wasn't lost on him. In his previous life, he had been betrayed by family. In this one, he discovered his very existence stemmed from an act of violence against his mother. Yet this time, the betrayal wasn't from those he loved – they had protected him, carried this burden alone for years to shield him from pain.

His mother's final plea echoed in his mind: "Please, stay inside. If he sees you... if he recognizes anything of himself in you... he could kill us all just to hide his shame."

Jorgan looked down at his hands, feeling the immense magical power flowing through him. He was no longer the helpless infant his mother had protected, nor was he the betrayed husband from his previous life. He was a Warlock of the Five Winds, a slayer of dragons, a wielder of powers beyond most mortals' comprehension.

But tonight, he would wait.

Watch.

Learn.

His mother's tears demanded not just action, but justice. And justice, he had learned in both lives, required perfect timing.

"I will see what manner of man sired me. And then..." He left the thought unfinished, but the temperature in the room dropped several degrees as his magic responded to his emotions.

The night stretched ahead, filled with the quiet sounds of a village holding its breath in fear.