aphrodesia

the lion and the serpent

Fri, 07 Jan 2011 09:02:41 GMT

Who: Angelique & Jennifer
What: Angelique is curious.
When: Morning
Where: Queen's chambers
Warnings: None yet

A week since Jennifer's glorious return to the capital, and she had found everything to be as her spies informed of. Same web of politics, same nest of vipers to contend with--ruling such a kingdom as hers was not for the weak-willed and faint of heart. Fortunately, the Warlord's soul had been forged to cold iron long ago, and there was none in her kingdom or any other that she could not devise proper strategy against. No, the only real threat to Jennifer was her heart, kept with First Wife, as always.

Rising from their massive shared bed, the Warlord clothed herself in a fine silk robe (this one gained from lands far east, spun of the finest indigo and gold) and stalked over to the nearest table. The wine bottles left scattered had long been drained of their contents, and the maps unfurled along the table's surface had been critically observed by both women much earlier in the day. Before their own, private celebrations.

Wresting free a dagger that had been stuck into one of the maps (a new possible conquest), Jennifer turned the weapon about in her slender, deft hands. With the faintest hint of a grin, she called out to the empty room, "Elisabeth has gone to the baths. You've just missed her, I'm afraid."

Oh, Angelique. Had she intended to catch her unaware this time? Surely not--this game of theirs was quite well-practiced after all these years of seduction and thinly-veiled hatred. Jennifer couldn't help but smirk.

This woman infuriated her more than anyone she'd ever met. This woman had put a fire in her belly that at sometimes she believed would truly consume her. The leader of the army, this war maiden Jennifer was the only thing standing between her and the love of the queen, she was sure of it.

She would never be fool enough to underestimate Jennifer's skills. Her eyes settled upon the knife within the woman's sleek fingers, as she stepped out from her place in the shadows. She stalked with the predatory presence of a panther, with the velvet dress fit like a second skin. She slid her hands over her hips as her bare feet danced across the carpets that littered the stone floor. "Perhaps it was not her I wished to see," she said with an amused tone that belied her intent.

The distance between her hiding place and that of the table wasn't short, but she made swept across the floor as if it meant nothing. There was no hurry in her pace as she moved closer to the queen's favored companion. She sat upon the edge of the table, sliding her leg over the other. The fabric split exposing the cream-colored flesh beneath it, a dainty foot dangled to draw her attention. Her palms kissed the table as she leaned her weight back upon them, her ample bosom strained against the fabric, though she sat effortlessly. The top of the soft mounds were displayed like two ripened apples waiting to be tasted.

Jennifer flicked the dagger from one skillful hand to the other, watching with a subtle yet discerning gaze as Angelique crossed the room. She admitted, as always, that the woman was quite well-possessed of her abilities. Confidence and sensuality were the slave's sword and shield, her efforts to fend off any rivals to the Queen's affections as amusing as they were utterly merciless. As a warrior and strategist, Jennifer could respect Angelique's prowess.

As a woman, however, she could only stifle back her desire to chuckle at the display the slave put on for her. She was well familiar with every curve of the viper's body, each slender slope of Angelique's skin mapped by her own steady hands long ago. Sex, after all, was their favorite weapon against each other. As the slave moved to sit beside her on the table, Jennifer regarded the display of leg and heaving bosom with barely a turn of her head. Calm, unreadable as ever, she'd not break nearly so easily.

"Wasn't it? Tell me, Angelique, I've heard many rumors since my time away. How have your girls been keeping up? I heard Justine took a rather unfortunate plunge into one of Elisabeth's favorite pools." The dagger danced between her hands again before settling back onto the table. Jennifer didn't bother to adjust her open robe, the taught curves of her warrior's body as formidable as any viper's gown. "From the roof, no less. It leaves me to wonder how you'll break in the Queen's new toys."

The lady of war was the only one who ever dared speak to Angelique in such a tone other than the queen herself. At first it had bristled her down to her very core, but now she regarded it with a simple dismissing wave. "Justine was very clumsy," she said as if speaking of the weather and not someone she'd had a hand in dispatching. She wasn't pretty enough for Elisabeth, and she definitely was not prettier than her. She wasn't very smart either. True, smarts were not what the queen required from all her slaves, but she found it insulting that the woman believed herself worthy of being in her presence, let alone her bed.

Her doe-colored eyes shifted toward the woman in the chair, before she twisted to lay upon her side. Her head propped on her elbow, before she leaned over the map attempting to see what plans the other woman had. She'd brought back many spoils, always adding to the collection, bringing in more distractions. Angelique could not help but think that Jennifer had planned it all to keep her from gaining the queen fully for herself in her absence. That thought pleased her, almost as much as her view from where she was slightly above her. "You still have much to do?"

There were so many unasked questions nested in the simple words. When are you leaving? How long will you be gone? Do you think you'll survive this conquest? Then there was the unspoken, I'll make sure to comfort her well if you should fall. All implied, but never spoken. Angelique had learned quite early by example what happened to those who stepped too far out of line.

Jennifer leaned back at the question, running a steady hand through her silken, ebony hair. Her chest rose and fell with silent laughter--it was almost a relief to be in the presence of such a familiar enemy. Angelique had her uses to be sure, as she guarded the Queen from as many potential dangers as she did rival lovers. Such fathomless loyalty was not something that could be easily found.

"At the capital, yes," Jennifer answered, her gaze flitting across the slave's supple, intoxicating curves. Oh, her and Elisabeth had enjoyed much of the day in each other's company, but the warrior's passions were nigh unquenchable--a voracious appetite to rival the Queen's, to be sure. She'd considered her new plaything, Adam, for a time, an amusing distraction that would perhaps please them both. But testing herself against the volatile fires of Angelique's hatred would no doubt be equally as satisfying. "First Wife would rather I stay at her side during the coming seasons. Armies need to be reformed, certain subjects put back into place." Her bed to be warmed by my body and not yours, she didn't bother to add.

Oh, how she did love to remind the slave of her station. As favored as the viper was in the harem, a plaything was only just--always would she be second to Jennifer, left to skulk the shadows and watch. How many nights did she sneak into the bedchambers, torturing herself with the scene of their love-making? The Warlord allowed herself a private smile and rose from her chair. Her eyes cast down on Angelique in quiet amusement. "Come hither, I would have you entertain me until the Queen returns."

The woman vexed her. If only they remembered to whom they spoke. Angelique had been a great warrior herself, only subdued by the beauty of the queen herself. Jennifer would do well to remember that the only reason she was here, the only reason she wore that collar was because she had chosen to do so, not because she'd been forced. She'd slid into the roll far too well and stayed in it for far too long, but it had proved interesting. She never found herself bored, and when she did, she could pick a mouse to play with.

Jennifer was anything but a mouse. She was another predator, and Angelique could practically taste the dominance wafting off her in waves. She wished to make her submit? Getting onto her hands and knees, she crawled over the map like a tigress. Her hips swayed with each movement as if an invisible tail swished languidly in the air behind her bottom. "How would you have me?" Her voice was low and hot as she looked up through her long ebon ashes. Her tongue slid over her ruby-painted lips to draw the other woman's attention to them. "How shall I serve?"

the return

Thu, 06 Jan 2011 20:35:24 GMT

Who: Everyone
What: Jennifer returns to the castle.
When: Evening
Where: Throne room.
Warnings: None

Jennifer was home at last. The palace was alive with commotion as she strode powerfully through the halls, her entourage of warriors following dutifully behind. Homecoming was an important day at the capital, as always, and not a man stepped out of place, their armor and weapons flawless to the eye.

The sniveling guardsmen in attendance saw her approach and quickly threw open the doors to the throne room. Noblemen held their collective breath, conversation silenced in her wake. Jennifer's gait softened just slightly, reverent now in the presence of First Wife. It had been many long months at sea, pillaging barbarian nations and collecting gold and treasures. Each opponent fell to the might of her blade, another territory that would worship the goddess that sat before her, beautiful and rightly above them all.

Jennifer's fine silk cloak billowed as she moved, her steps powerful and silent. When she stopped, the men behind her brought the chains around as instructed, each new slave waiting for First Wife to inspect. The Warlord bowed in respect--and though not one would dare say such a word aloud, love.

"Elisabeth, my Queen. I have returned."

The role of a slave girl was not suited for a woman who had once been a princess herself, but unfortunately since Poppy's beloved kingdom had been taken by the warlord and her First Wife, it was her duty and to protect her family, she would do as she was told. Nevertheless, the young 'savage', as they called her, stood fanning the First Wife with a look on her face that showed only how much she despised the palace and the defiance she held close to her heart. They could not take that from her.

As the warlord appeared, she cast her eyes downwards, concentrating even further on the regal First Wife she was tasked with attending to. She was filled with an overwhelming sense of both loathing and desire for the radiant, golden haired queen, and hated herself all the more for it.

Angelique stood next to the queen's throne in her red silk dress. It fitted her perfectly, suggestively outlining the curves of her body. The cut was nearly scandalous, but she managed to wear it with an air of dominance. For all the strength she appeared to carry, there was a pendant attached to a collar that hugged her throat. It had the queen's crest upon it, showing to whom she belonged to.

As the horns hailed the return of the Jennifer, Angelique's lips twisted into a very unsightly expression. She could not stand it. The return of the Warlord only meant that her time with the queen would become next to nil. Being second in her eyes wounded her pride like nothing else could. The woman was magnificent and beautiful, as was the Warlord. Jealousy soaked through to the bone, and she did a very poor job of hiding it when she spoke, so instead she schooled her face to look like stone. Her eyes regarded the woman coldly from where she stood.

The queen's needs were insatiable, though she had tried. Oh, how she had tried. She'd even gone so far as to have herself chained in the dungeon for her insolence upon destroying one or two of the queen's favored. Jennifer was one she could not overcome, however. The dark mistress of battle was her greatest obstacle, or perhaps the delicate princess that had been recently introduced into the courts. Yes, with her dark hair and fair skin. She could pretend to be meek all she wanted, but anyone could see the fire in those eyes of her. She wondered how deep those fires ran.

For a woman so anxious in regard to the homecoming of her Warlord, Elisabeth was remarkably cool upon her throne. She lounged on the oversized seat, her body draped luxuriously against the gold – a mixture of the treasures pillaged from other, inferior nations and the molten remains of the King's throne... he hadn't lasted very long after the wedding at all, and his place had become unnecessary – and her fingers tapping idly on the burnished armrest. She was the picture of calm, from her carelessly lovely mane of golden curls to the aloof gaze that her eyes cast about the room, dark as the souls of a thousand ~~lovers that were never lovers~~ of her most vicious warriors.

Her attention, before the doors had opened, had been mostly on Angelique. The beautiful, dark slave was a delight – not only lovely to look at, but with a mind as sharp as any barbarian's sword and a voracious drive to please her Queen. Having herself punished for her indiscretions against the other women in the palace had been a particularly nice touch; Elisabeth had been too amused and pleased to get rid of her, even though her penchant for intrigue meant that she had to replenish the women (and sometimes men) in her harem much more frequently than she had before. Everything was well enough in the end; she'd ended up with the defiant little bit of captured royalty with the fan, hadn't she?

As enjoyable as Angelique was, however, as soon as her beloved Warlord's return was announced, Elisabeth had no inclination to pay attention to anything else. Her eyes centered on the strong, dark beauty – the familiar planes of her face, the figure that she had missed in her bed for the long months of conquering and pillaging, the gait that she could pick out in a crowd of thousands. Shifting away from Angelique, Elisabeth slid to her feet, descending the dias without hurrying, every movement of her body elegant and easy, catlike in its grace.

"You return with glory and spoils again, my Warlord. The tales of your triumph precede you."

And what a glorious return it was. Jennifer's eyes were trained upon the elegant, slender body of her Queen as she descended from the dais, but the Warlord did not fail to notice the women placed on either side of the throne. Oh, she'd grown used to Angelique's venomous presence a great many years ago, one of her oldest and most familiar harem slaves.

She'd be fool to consider for a moment that the woman wasn't intent upon the place Jennifer currently resided beside Elisabeth--as both her most favored lover and as ruler. The slave was ambitious as she was crushingly beautiful, her unrestrained desires likely to be the cause of her downfall. The Warlord would almost be tempted to recruit the woman to a better position if not for her clearly untrustworthy nature. Such as it was, such as it would always be between them.

And as for the other, the young once-princess with an unbreakable spirit, she would try her hand sooner or later. Even with what the girl believed to be virtuous motives of justice against the Warlord, her sentiment was as the same as Angelique's. Jennifer had spent many an evening in contemplation of her situation, that she might one day explain the nature of her strategy--that the tiny nation once belonging to the girl and her siblings was doomed simply by existing between warring kingdoms. Now that the Warlord and her Queen were its protectors, none would think twice to defile it. Such was their power and the fear that their rule invoked in their enemies. Whether or not the tiny slip of a woman might ever learn of her intent was anyone's guess, and she supposed it wouldn't matter in the end.

Ah, but neither woman was the reason for Jennifer's current mood. Elisabeth had been the one to haunt her dreams, the force behind every merciless strike of her sword, the name whispered upon her lips at every would-be lover's touch. Time and distance were as nothing as the Queen greeted her.

"Indeed. There is much to discuss, as always. My generals have been nipping at my ears since the journey home, but I'll not hear a word of it before acquiring your council." Jennifer took the First Wife's delicate hand with her own. Her clothing was tasteful and perfectly tailored to the athletic curves of her body, silks and leather traded for her usual armor, her skin bathed of every stain of battle and hinting faintly of oil--Elisabeth's favorite, of course. She kissed the Queen's palm affectionately, open for their audience to witness, her demeanor almost gentle in the presence of her woman.

Poppy, as she surveyed the new slaves, gave them such a look of pity that she almost wept there and then. She longed to be free, and while her mistress was not cruel it was nothing compared to being able to walk freely. But no, she was forcibly dressed in luxurious silk, her slim frame weighed down with a heavy collar to show exactly who she belonged to, and chains at her feet in case she tried to flee once more. She struggled not to glare at the woman who stood at the other side of the throne, Angelique, who wore her finery with pride. She had been bought, but not by the luxury; by the Queen's wiles. She wondered if she was next to die; if Angelique had decided she was the next rival in court. As she saw the other woman stare at her their eyes met, a fiery pulse running through Poppy's veins. An unspoken curiosity about the other.

The formal ceremony of the warlord's return was a blatant display of affection between the fearsome warrior and her beloved queen all to see, and Poppy felt sickened to see their reunion, casting her eyes down again. The princess herself would've been flogged had she dared touch another without her father and brother's permission, and the queen had slain her king to be with the . Granted, her sister had been much more daring but only a tragic accident had come from that, leaving Poppy alone as a prize for any warlord that begged alliance to their tiny home. She would never dare say she preferred the fate that had befallen her, but... it was a difficult concept for her to understand, she often simply tried to ignore it.

It was as she did this that her guise of obedience slipped for a second, and a sigh was omitted from her lips. She immediately regretted it, and while she may not be punished now (and she truly hoped she wouldn't, she had been chained twice that week), if Angelique, that devil woman, had seen her, her life would not be worth living. She was not meant to do that. Still, she felt a thrill at the disloyalty to her captors.

Angelique couldn't stand the sight of them. As soon as the queen moved toward the Warlord and they gave that stomach turning display of open affection, she herself moved. She moved silently toward the side of the room. She would find some distraction to quell her anger. The jealous demon inside of her yearned to lash out, but she could bury it in the bosom of another. Jennifer would leave, and the queen would return to her bed. Patience was key.

Approaching the former princess, now slave, she allowed a finger to trail gently across the line of her shoulders and back. "Your name," she said quietly. It wasn't a question, but a command. She never treated the other harem girls as equals. They were all minor distractions; toys.

Angelique was certain the queen and her lover would be far too engrossed in each other to notice her sudden interest in this new lovely addition. Perhaps Elizabeth would enjoy teaching her how to properly serve her in every way personally. Angelique could easily use that as an excuse for playing with her. She doubted that she would want this one dead. There was something different about her, even if she couldn't put her finger on it. She did, however, slip a finger beneath her chin to raise her face. She wanted to look upon it.

The raven locks pleased her, as did her moon-kissed skin. She wondered what the girl would taste like and slid a tongue over her rose petal lips at the mere thought of it. She took a moment to admire the way the fabric hugged the younger one's body, and imagined for a moment, what she would look like writhing beneath her touch. What kind of sounds would this girl make? She raised a brow and a smug smile settled upon her cruel lips. Oh how she would writhe.