Fable - Ask A Crown Fit For... [Medja | Empire]

[Medja]

Medja let a sigh escape her lips as she held the scroll to her chest. The subtext of Vashe's words were not lost on the regent, nor was the direction the fae had cast her gaze. Fiera had truly handed Medja a collar, and whilst she was no stranger to the slave trade of Amol-Kalit, there was certainly something starkly different about this situation. Medja was no tyrant, that much she knew in her heart...but neither was she reckless.

"Truth be told, dear lady, I would be remiss to simply let you free on a whim. It is my duty to keep my people safe, and I have no way of knowing what you might do if given absolute opportunity. I know enough of your kind to know that you don't exactly have a reputation of trustworthiness." Medja explained her position to the heradryad with all the poise befitting a centuries old ruler. She may not have been as ancient as Vashe likely was, but she still bore the wisdom of ages, far beyond that of a normal human.

While Vashe's eyes withered and waned, Medja's flared with renewed vigor.
"Neither, however, will I make use of this scroll. You may keep your secrets, and I, mine. I must think on this. Just know," The sorceress looked on at the fae, magically pulling sand from around her into her palm in gentle streams before letting it fall away to the wind. "My ends are not selfish. This land has been wounded very deeply. I seek only to heal its wounds."

At last, Medja glanced to her drow companion.
"Fieravene...a moment in private, if you will?"

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera perked in the same manner as a daydreaming child called upon by an instructor during class. Red eyes blinked away the thoughts on her mind and a smile smoothed across her features as she glanced between Empress and Forest God. Vashe still looked as though Medja were holding a live explosive in her hand, and Medja still looked as though she'd stepped in dog shit and wasn't sure who to yell at.

Dithering. And use of her full name. Oh dear.

"Of course, darling," the dark elf replied, "why don't I hold on to that for now..." and with a gesture of her hand the scroll disappeared from Medja's grasp in a poof of arcane smoke that smelled faintly of burnt hair.

"So the Lady Vashe need not concern herself on whether or not one has peeked, hm? A good rest seems in order for everyone." No one liked making important decisions when they needed a nap.

It wasn't as if the fae would be going anywhere anyway. She could hardly muster the energy to show herself for this meeting. Fiera gestured for Medja to lead the way and followed the woman as silently as her shadow.

 

[Medja]

Medja gave two dull blinks as the scroll vanished from her hand, but nodded as Fiera explained her purpose. Indeed, if the contents were truly that important then the regent did not wish to violate whatever modicum of trust had yet been established between herself and the arch fae now inhabiting her garden. Or, at the very least, that was not a bridge she'd yet wished to burn.

"Indeed, a rest does sound wonderful. Lady Vashe, I'll see to it that my servants offer you whatever amenities you desire. My reach might not extend to the realm of the fae, but my collections are vast. You will be treated well for as long as you are my guest." Medja offered in her most professional tone before floating off. A rest really was what sounded best about now. It had been an hour at most, the duo hadn't even gotten into any of the...fun part yet, and still Fiera had managed to completely wear out the empress-regent. That was a talent, if nothing else.

At last, once back in the room above, Medja dismissed any lingering servants and waited patiently for true privacy between the two. She collapsed back into the pile of cushions, sinking in and rubbing her temples as she let the weight of Fi's gift register.
"I am...not usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Fiera...and I understand that a being this powerful in my service is...incomparably significant. However..." She chose her words carefully, her tone measured and steady. "I must ask, first and foremost, does this being's presence here represent a danger to the Empire? And second of all, hooowww?? Even for you, Fieravene, hoooowww?"

Her tone and word choice were much less composed as she finished, a bewildered look overtaking her. This was...a lot.

 

[Fieravene]

Smug did not begin to define the obnoxious amount of wry, unbridled, self-satisfied mischief blooming across that charcoal colored face. Marred only by the sharp glow of hot coals she called eyes, the expression rather betrayed everything and nothing all at once before smoothing away like footprints in the sand under an incoming tide.

"Her gown gathers in gossamer gilded pools upon the ground.
Swirling the nectar in her cup, her mind wanders while memories abound,"

Fiera moved across the polished tile, the length of her black gown softly dropping to pool at her bare feet.

"Fireflies flicker, the tiny flames enchanting as the wood breathes deep.
She hears her young sisters, all laughter and languor, bellies full of the secrets they keep.
Her face has not aged, and her hair still flows in rich amber waves.
These endless days pass, intangible and fleeting, with impermanence she no longer craves."

She circled round the pit of pillows while reciting the tale, deftly and methodically plucking the fingers of her satin gloves one by one before depositing each like molted black feathers on the floor.

"She loved a mortal once…and a million times over as the nights stretch on.
Beholden to time he is gone and she, with her finger…now traces a kiss placed on her lips at dawn."

Next she passed by the gilded table bedecked by platters of food, delicate hands that had rendered death across the sandy expanses of the Empire ever so gently plucking a single grape from its vine. She popped it into her mouth, chewed, and meandered on.

"Closing her eyes, she can still see the awe on his face when they met.
Having stepped from the pond, her wings folded and her body wet.
He smelled like spices and sweat, like sunbeams and sandalwood.
His laughter tumbled from somewhere deep, his voice penetrating where she stood."

Her course around the chamber brought her finally to the cushions where her lover lay, and she drifted down to Medja's side with all the grace of a cat keening in on its preferred lap. A single finger moved to Medja's chin, firmly but gently tipping it upward toward her face. Fieravene leaned in to breathe the last of her words across those plump, royal lips.

"So few centuries shared, years....days....minutes or moments, all now lost to the wind.
All just memories to fondle and flicker like firefly flames alight, having never dimmed."

 

[Medja]

The Empress' initial reaction was at Fiera's insufferable self-satisfaction. Hundreds be damned, that look, that look. Simply infuriating! Medja was going to have to stick half a dozen of her best Hands to the dark elf's trail at all times going forward, it was so frustrating not knowing.

Even as she began to think these things to herself, Fiera began to recite and shed her ensemble. Medja wanted to be mad, truly she did, but blast it all, she felt her cheeks flush the moment that damned gown hit the floor. With every step around the room, every spoken verse, Medja's heart began to thump a bit harder in her chest. Her gaze held upon Fi's graceful, lithe figure, utterly transfixed.

Medja did her best to grasp for meaning in the words her lover spoke, knowing that all this was likely the tale of the seelie tree that now stood in her garden like a monument to wasting away. It was difficult to focus, however. The dark elf did a wonderful job of reminding her that this strange mystique she carried was precisely why Medja became so enamored with her in the first place.

Finally, Fiera came to rest next to Medja, and graced her lips with the heat of her breath as she concluded her poem. The Empress gave her a flustered, frustrated smile, her heart reaching its crescendo.
"Damn you, you cheeky--" Was all she could manage before trailing off and closing what little gap remained between their lips, hands moving to start removing her own meager garments.

 

[Fieravene]

The cheeky elf eagerly took in the flustered, frustrated Empress, claiming the woman with all the months of lingering thoughts and unquenched wanting. Dark hands ensnared bronze, helping and abiding the effort of shedding layers. If Fiera had her way the woman would walk bare and naked everywhere she went, alas the expectations of societal norms ceaselessly interfered.

She hungrily partook of the Empress, reacquainting herself with every inch of royal skin under the fading light of day and well into the twilight hours illuminated by braziers. Fiera did not even remember falling asleep, but she was certainly the first to wake. Leaving Medja to her peaceful dreamings, she procured parchment, quill, and ink with the help of a lady's maid, scrawled a short note and left it folded on a side table. Medja's new crown of emeralds sat atop it as the most stunning and valuable paperweight ever seen in Arethil.


My sweet desert succulent,

I have one final gift for you, to be presented in the throne room at noon.

Yours,
Fieravene

 

[Medja]

Release, sweet release, and a night to forget the woes and stresses of her duties. No espionage, no brokerage of information, and certainly no running of an empire. For a few blessed hours, only Fiera and Medja existed, and the latter enjoyed this to the fullest of extents. In one more way, Medja was reminded of why this was truly the greatest age of any she'd experienced so far, discovering that reminder among the linens and cushions she shared with her most favored of partners.

Alas, she could not fight the forward march of time, and eventually morning did come. Medja arose long after dawn in all of her glory, hair amess. She took up a thin, sheer, black robe and covered herself (in what little way the thing could), then moved to the table her crown rested on. Fieravene's absence was not unexpected. Medja knew well her transient nature, and accepted her wholly.

Medja lifted the crown and gingerly placed it atop her own head, over messy hair and all, then read the note. She smiled in spite of herself, recalling the gifts of yesterday. Hopefully this was in the vein of the gorgeous jewelry that presently crested her, and less of the 'potentially wildly dangerous fae and/or war incitement' kind that now resided in her garden.

The regent sighed softly, and with a clap of her hands, servants filtered into the room to ready her for her day.

---

Noon was soon upon Ragash, and Medja would not be late. The regent sat upon the e'er familiar throne, one far more gaudy than the one sat atop Annuakat, and awaited the second arrival of her favored consort. Between the absolute smorgasbord of gifts she'd received only the day prior, what could have possibly awaited her now? Rather, what did Fi still have up her mischievous sleeves?

 

[Fieravene]

Back in her layers of black leather armor, Fieravene ventured from the palace and into the city where the various participants of her caravan from Annuakat were vending their remaining wares or finding relief from the journey in the many various bars and inns. It was there that she retrieved one particular caravanee, Kade Anvar, taking him from his family as they celebrated his considerable-sized sum earned from the trek.

Make yourself presentable, she told him, for you meet with the Vizier today, as promised, and brought him with her back to the palace with all his many queries and questions unanswered.

An Emerald Hand met them on the journey from the palace entrance to the throne room. Rhix, as Fieravene knew him by due to his status as the being the only big, scary, crocodile-man in attendance to Medja. He attempted to stop her progress but was rebuffed with a short remark about her private and expected appointment with the Empress Regent. Rhix glared after them, though Fieravene was not presently aware of if he could offer any other kind of expression given his natural reptilian countenance.

"Forgive me my tardiness," the dark elf announced as she strode in to the throne room and made her way without preamble toward the throne across polished stone tiles, "your Hand seemed insistent on detaining business that was not his to detain. Come along now, Poppet..." Fiera called back to Kade who she'd bid to wait at the door. A sanguine smile fixed itself on the boy as he stepped in, "Darling, I would like to introduce you to young Kade Anver. A brave soul who protected your gift as we crossed the perilous Urorok Sands and faced the demon temple of Irith'el. Kade, it is my great delight to introduce you to the Empress Regent Medja ... my darling wife."

 

[Kade Anvar]

Home sweet home.

Ragash.

Kade's trip to Annuakat for the Tower of Tribulations was absolutely the most storied excursion of his life. Master Jalil had sent him here and there before for a rare ingredient or two, and sometimes things could get a little dicey, but none of these apprenticeship errands could compare.

As soon as Kade found his way back to the dusty row upon which the Anvar family had its shanty home, as soon as he pushed open the door which had no proper lock on it, his younger sister Aisha and youngest brother Tahir came rushing up to him, toppling him over after he had kneeled down to receive them with arms outstretched. He regaled them with the recounting of the Tower, of Rania and the big mean crocodile man named Rhix, of "accidentally bumping into" a scary dark elf who turned out to be nice and shared some pistachios and lamb with him, and of the harrowing adventure of the caravan, sandstorm and temple built by a crazy mage and all. By the time he was done, he looked up and could see Mom and Dad back by curtains which marked their small room. Smiling.

When Kade unshouldered his satchel with souvenirs from Annuakat and snacks from the Ragash markets, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

Fiera.

Tahir asked point-blank if she was the scary dark elf. Aisha nudged his stomach and corrected him, saying that she had turned out to be nice. For Kade in that moment, she was in fact a little bit of a both.

Make yourself presentable, she had said. Well, there wasn't much to tidy up, now was there? He only had a few other changes of clothes tucked away under his bed, and they were all of the same meager, worn condition of the ones he wore now. The best he could do was make a pass at his hair, slicking his palm with his tongue and trying to smooth out some of the more unruly edges. Huh, well, the Vizier, she said. Which Vizier? How many of them were there, actually? Kade didn't really know.

This was the first time he'd ever been in the Palace of Ragash, though. And he probably looked every bit as out of place as he felt. He couldn't stop gawking at everything, wide and wondering eyes trailing over the dazzling architecture and beautiful designs. Hey, was that...Rhix? Kade couldn't help but to flash a smug smirk as he passed by the reptilian. Damn, it felt good to be a winner.

Into the throne room they went, and Kade's earlier question was answered. It wasn't just any Vizier.

It was Medja. The Empress Regent herself.

Kade's heart seemed to stop in his chest, and for a second he feared that it wouldn't start up again. Meeting the Empress Regent was one thing, grand and overwhelming as it was--he felt just this same way in Annuakat before the audience there had been cancelled. But there was the intrusion of memory, a particular Dream he had had while on the caravan, which for the life of him he couldn't figure out if it had actually happened or not. And this intrusion of memory made meeting the Empress Regent a whole other thing entirely. He couldn't even begin to process it. And he damn sure wasn't going to say anything about the incredibly boyish fantasy he'd had in that Dream (which may or may not have been a dream).

Fiera started to address the Empress Regent. Darling? That was weird, why would Fiera not address the Empress properly? Where was Zami Fein when you needed him? A brave soul, huh, yeah, that was a medal Kade would happily pin on his chest. Wait, the temple was a demon temple? Introduce you to the Empress Regent Medja...my darling--

Kade's expression went from one of awe to shock, brows sky high, mouth fallen down low. He turned his head slowly to regard Fiera. Then turned his head slowly to regard Empress Medja.

Before he knew it, he was voicing his thoughts in a tiny whisper, "This...whole time...?"

Kade's head rolled around on his neck, and he looked a little pale, as if the anvil of realization which struck his skull might just knock him out. So...he had...tried to pickpocket...the wife...of the Empress...of the Empire...of Amol-Kalit?

What enduring wherewithal he had still on duty in his brain gave him the subtle reminder to not just stand there like a jackass. Say something. Do something. Both better be right. Mind your manners. Was it bow or kneel? Just go with it. And don't forget to say Your Imperial Majesty.

Kade kneeled down, bowing his head. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said, then spoke on his duty stewarding the tree. "It was all an honest day's work."

Fieravene Medja

 

[Medja]

Medja smiled as Fieravene once again entered the halls of Ragash's throne. She held no strict expectations of punctuality for the woman; indeed, she was just glad that she was still here. Medja had half expected the 'gift' to be her announcing another extended vacation. Those were the worst gifts.

"There is nothing to forgive, my dear. I am aware that Rhix can be a bit over--" She began before the name registered in her head. Then she saw the young man who trailed her consort. She knew him. Instantly. "--zealous."

An intrigued smile curled across the Regent's lips, the glow in her eyes flaring momentarily. What an entertaining surprise this was. It seemed the Fae had been meddling in her affairs for longer than she'd realized. Medja was going to squeeze every ounce of enjoyment she could out of this.

"Kade Anvar..." The Empress addressed him knowingly, authoritatively, and descended from her throne to greet him personally. "Thrice before have I heard that name. Twice before have I seen your face. Once before have I met you."

She loomed over him now, floating before the boy in all her glory.
"...or shall I say, 'dreamt of you?'" She asked wistfully, smirking at Kade and showing him a magic flash of her emerald eyes.

Her gaze shifted to her drow consort.
"You have my sincerest gratitude, Fiera, my wife." Medja did not believe that Fi had ever used exactly those words before, but she supposed she had given her a very special ring. She quite liked the way the word dripped off her tongue. "I have long awaited this meeting, and I am pleased to learn that this young man has gone to such great lengths to earn my favor."

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera stood straight-backed with her arms lightly folded behind her, an air of austere smugness about her befitting only of someone who rather loved watching the exchange of emotions on all in attendance. The shock. The awe. The surprise. Worth every drop of sweat across that wretched desert.

"He is of such a nature I do believe would behoove you to collect him into your retinue," Fiera intoned levelly, "but if you have no need for him, I will take him under my own wing."

 

[Kade Anvar]

...or shall I say, 'dreamt of you?'

So this is what being a statue felt like. Yup. Completely petrified. Can't move. Stuck like this forever.

Finally, though, the war within was at an end. He felt like he was going mad over contemplating it, arguing with himself day in and day out over whether or not that Dream had actually happened. Maybe he should have known. Strangely enough, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd been suddenly whisked away to some other fantastical place (at least the Dream was far, far nicer than whatever realm lay on the other side of that green fire in the Temple of Irith'el).

Given what happened in the Dream, he thought he would've become...embarrassed, awkward, bashful (maybe a little smug and satisfied, who knew)? But as it turned out, more than anything he was relieved. His petrification broke when he gave tangible evidence to his relief by sighing it out. Yeah, it was just nice to have some closure on it. Yup, that really did happen.

Now live it out, Kade.

"I'm honored, Your Imperial Majesty," Kade said, speaking more to the long awaited meeting than the mention of the Dream.

A curious turn of his head to Fiera. Collect him into her retinue?

Then, following along on that note, he returned to speaking with the Empress, keeping his head respectful bowed. "If there's anything I can do for the Empire, Empress Medja, I am yours to command."

It wasn't until this very moment that Kade truly reckoned with his feelings of dedication to something far greater than himself. Ragash was his home, and Ragash was now a part of the Empire. And so therefore, yeah, he felt that what was good for the Empire was also good for Ragash.

And for his family.

Fieravene Medja