Chapter 132: The Beautiful Ones
Chapter 132: The Beautiful Ones
• TITANS LANDING, CAPITAL ELDORIA
The fair polis was dotted in sturdy townhouses and inns, the singularity of the city being its shared brick-red roofs, from up above looking like the scales of a dragon in sleep. The skies were clear as the snowing had begun to pack up.
In a nearby commune of gypsies, a gathering on the outskirts of the former Capitol, few tendrils of spring shot up between the white tents lying under the evening sun. Children played with dogs around chomping winged horses.
This commune was one of the many scattered across the realm. Ever since their Queen was felled from the fae throne, the gypsies had been further put out by the other magical ilk. Demon hordes now ruled the undercity, and every few paces in the cobblestone alleys, one could spy a Mauler or Bonereaver, or Critch, yeilding dominance over the unlikely underdogs.
Since their Sires were now witches of the Court of Whispers, the [Hellions] felt charged to do what ever they wished.
"At least they let us keep us our Griffins!" An old gypsy beard said, summoning to himself a randy group of golden-haired kids for a twilight of storytelling. Aside the upheaval across the lands of the fey empire which rendered many of them homeless, the wildings still kept their bloodlines close by visiting intimacy among family members.
Incest was prominent to keep purebloods—as evidenced by the all-blonde boy and girl children running about the tents.
Similar styled refugee camps nestled all down the highway of the realm, across Rocasus and its river, Nokmaar and its bog, G?ndlheim and its moors, and even to distant Castamere and the northlands of Rumbrun. Those that could, in the days when the city was just recovering, had fled to Frostholm to seek rampart in the fortress of the Warden of the North.
Alas, the Lord of Frostholm had bent the knee also the black banners of Morningstar.
But now, the gates of the polis were shut. Those leaving were a mere trickle. Tower guards checked primage papers with a falcon's eye, and only those aloud by the city's ruling council could board passages on ships leaving the Eldorian harbor.
It was a happenstance by all measures meant to enslave the final standing dignitas and patriotic spirit of the only true resistance to the utter dominion of the Fallen: the Fae.
These wildlings, who seemed the weakest of all factions in the realm, now that their Queen was toppled, still had refused to bend the knee.
No matter how long they were denied bread.
No matter how many of their alluring females were held down by wells and alleys and raped by demons.
No matter how many of their strong men were forcefully signed into the growing demon host's military by the Spectres of the Usurper on their raids.
No matter the pressure to beg for corn and accord rulership to the monarchy of devils.
Descendants of the Celestials and [Cherubim], the fey peoples were humanity's only hope. The saving grace of the mortal realm. . .
The last of the beautiful ones.
And so, they kept to their tents; a faction ripped out of the same great empire their forefather the Conqueror had built, sharing meals and stories—and sex—together, and never waning in the belief that their dynasty of the [Sunfire] magic, the maidenhood of the Seely Court was not over.
The wildings stood to think that their ethereal bloodline would not be ended, and certainly not by fucking demons! One thing the great and bearded old storyteller had gleaned in his many years upon the mortal realm was that time was an Immortal's best friend. And time would see their upon the throne again.
As the twilight set in with an appearing moon, the little fae children gathered around the storyteller as he began his tale, transported in the silver-haired man's eyes to a thousand years before, and to a realm of magic without evil.
He set to keep the flame of the Van Imperias alive in the heart of the young ones.
The same Wildling Queen who the hope of those in the vast white tents depended on, at the same time knelt at the feet of a particular voluptuous redhaired Archdemoness. Her Mistress, the Queen of the Night and Lady Dowager of the Court of Whispers, Her Eminence, Lilith Firstborn.
Lilith had her long legs planted on the abusyle floors of her grand chambers at the dark castle.
Giselle ran a stocking of the finest cream silk up her Mistress's legs. Lilith's gaze was towards the patio overlooking the stretch of the polis, and further out to the encampment of her slave's people. Giselle had to alert her Mistress that she had finished with dressing her legs.
"I am done, Your Eminence."
Lilith looked down with a brief smile. She turned her leg this way and that, looking over the golden garters before she dropped her gown. "Looks good, though I'd much prefer pantaloons. You mortals and your cultures. In Hel, it's the males who wear the skirts. I think them rather ravishing in such battle kilts."
Giselle saw the shade Lilith's eyes had taken and rose from her knees. Even without her usual power heels on, Lilith still towered over her. She knew the Lady Dowager was thinking about her nephew.
It was at times like this that Giselle almost forgot it was this beautiful woman who had ripped the crown of [Ethereal Light] from her head, and twisted it into some grotesque travesty for her Minotaurs to play with.
It was in moments such as this, that she almost loved the woman.
It was not too hard to imagine Lilith as another giant beautiful redhead, but with striking gold eyes instead of silver.
Discerning her Mistress's line of thoughts, Giselle put in. She forsook the usual formality with which she had to speak in the presence of guests. "You think about Israfel, do you not?"
Lilith's gorgeous eyes shifted from the rippling byzantine curtains and open balcony to her blonde slave. She squeezed her peach cheeks. "And I thought I was the mind reader, little fey, huh?"
Giselle didn't turn away from her touch.
"I think about him too."
"I know," Lilith responded. "I think my nephew is the one thing stopping you from sticking your hairpin through my eye." She caught Giselle's startled look and chuckled lightly, "Come on, little fey! Don't be surprised. You read faces. I read minds. Besides, I didn't need to.
I see the looks you give me. You hate me, but it's alright. I would hate anyone who took an entire kingdom from me too."
Giselle sighed and boldly touched Lilith's wrist over her face.
"I don't hate you, Your Eminence. I. . .I don't know what I feel for you."
"You like the way I fuck you!" Lilith chirped.
Giselle frowned and dropped her hand. This made Lilith grin more. "Aww! My cute little fey. That shouldn't rub you the wrong way. I like the way you fuck me too—the times I let you. Your next journey awaits at m v|l-e'-NovelBin.net
You have a real gifted mouth."
"Oh god!" Giselle colored to the tips of her pointy ears. She had given up trying to hide her Elf descent.
"But—" Lilith pulled up Giselle under the chin to meet her eyes. "...aside our political and arcane opposites, I think we find common ground in Israfel. He is the one thing we both love. I see him in you. You see him in me. This keeps us satisfied.
At least, it does for me." Lilith sighed and moved to the balcony in her fine evening dress. "It helps a lot that I know he's alive."
Giselle joined her at the stone belvedere. The turrets and wings of the grandiose castle swarmed them as a backdrop. The moon was full tonight. It lit on the vastness of the white tents in the distance, outside the city's high wall and gates. Both Lilith and Giselle stared out at the strangely saintly commune.
'Those are my people.' Giselle thought.
She looked up at her Mistress. Everytime she stared at Lilith, the woman's sheer grace seemed to astound her even more. No wonder the other male [Principalities] of the [SSS-RANK] divine order feared her. She had once stood right now where Lilith was, but even Giselle accepted she had never pulled such swagger. Lilith Firstborn was beyond beautiful. She was enchanting.
Surreal. Delicate, in a way that was frightening, but sure as hell hot!
Pun intended!
"Your eyes are going to fall off if you keep staring," the sweet voice hit Giselle from above; from the rose lips she was ogling.
Giselle cleared her throat.
Lilith smiled when her fey slave flushed. She loved riling her up, if only to see the healthy color on her.
"Thank you, Mistress, for not killing my people." Giselle's gold eyes stretched across the roofs of Titans Landing to the white tents.
Lilith gently lowered her purple eyes to her. She leaned in, kissed Giselle's cheek and whispered in her ear. "Oh, beautiful one, why do you think I did it?"
Then she blatantly stared down Giselle's maiden decolletage. Giselle was shivering as she watched Lilith pick up her skirts in a very dainty manner that was a shocker to the panjandrum she was. She stared until Lilith was at the oakwood door into her chambers. Giselle followed at a safe distance, rooting to a spot by the drapes and clutching the curtains in a firm grasp.
Just before the luscious Lady Dowager pulled open the door, she said back to her slave,
"Oh, and little fey. . . I want you topless in my bed when I return. Find your collar and put it on."