Private Tales Snakes and Scorpions

[Gerra]

While the throne room underwent extensive repairs, the west wing of the royal palace in Ragash was alive with light and music. Amidst gurgling fountains, nobility mingled. They walked upon beautiful rugs, reclined upon divans and pillows, and drank heavily of wine. Smoke from hookah pipes clouded the rooms with heady fog. Musicians played pipes and beat drums, while dancers in mesmerizing clothes entranced the audiences with their rhythmic movements.

Amidst it all was the Emperor. His huge form lay upon many pillows and he sucked in great lungfuls of hashish from the hookah pipe, then blew them out in large clouds that drifted across the room. Sycophants reclined near to him, fawning over him with words of admiration and adoration that he barely acknowledged. His features were hard and stony smooth as if he had been carved of dark volcanic glass. Only his eyes betrayed emotion, burning with a blistering intensity toward any whom they fell upon.

This was simply another evening of court in Ragash, city of wonders.

 

[Ava Gilleth]

Ava took great care with her appearance, first impressions were everything to her. They were the foundation on which she would build a relationship, lasting or otherwise. She’d thought of everything, from the rich satin skirt and tightly wound crop top, to the delicate golden headdress whose thin chains glittered on her forehead, and the sweet scent dabbed on her neck. She’d spent hours perfecting her image, examining it from every angle before she’d ordered the palanquin to take her to the palace.

She watched the world pass her by from behind cool curtains a slight smile on her face. Yes, this would do nicely for the time being. Already Gerra of Molthal was interesting, offering mercy and careful thought where his father simply offered brutality. The palanquin was lowered and she accepted a serfs hand to rise from it, allowing them to guide her to the west wing. Smoke engulfed her momentarily, before winding away from her in delicate patterns that broke into flocks of birds or dancers pirouetting away. A small but important display of her power.

Ava locked eyes with the half giant resting back on his pillows with, she held his gaze as she approached him, moving through the centre of the room like no one else mattered. The dancers avoided her as much as the smoke. Ava only broke her gaze to curtsy at the Sand King’s feet.

The serf who had guided her here spoke before she could. “May I present the sorceress, Ava Gilleth.” That annoyed her, she did not need someone to speak for her. Still as she rose from her curtsy she maintained a calm expression and made a mental note of the serfs appearance. She would deal with him later.

Gerra

 

[Gerra]

The half-giant studied her brazenly, from her delicate jewelry above mercurial eyes to the bare expanse of her midriff above soft satin, all carefully crafted to captivate. He placed the pipe between his lips and inhaled deeply, then blew out a fog of the dizzying hashish vapor. The Emperor wore only a black thawb with gold embroidery at the collar and sleeves. It contrasted sharply with his fiery red hair and smoldering eyes.

"Gilleth..." he mused, voice rich and oily and deep. "The name is familiar."

"A sorceress, my emperor, who has had many masters," hissed a servile man laying upon the pillows.

"Thank you, Rylan," Gerra pursed his lips, then waved a hand, "Leave us."

The gathered sycophants stood and with many scraping apologies made their exit.

Gerra's attention returned to Ava.

"Please, sit," he gestured from where he lay propped up on one elbow toward the pillows near him, "Wine? Hashish?"

He snapped his fingers and a human slave came forward bearing several glasses of reds and whites.

 

[Ava Gilleth]

Ava’s smiled at Rylan’s words, acidic as they may have been, she swung her hazel gaze towards him, watching his every move as he clambered to his feet, eyes shooting her glances that got more and more nervous until he scurried away without looking back. A small chuckle to herself and she stepped neatly among the pillows tucking her feet in close and resting herself beside the Sand King. “Wine will do nicely, thank you.”

She allowed her gaze to sweep the hall on the off chance there was something interesting to see. There wasn’t, so she settled it back upon Gerra as the wine was placed in her waiting hand. “You’ve done well with Ragash, Gerra of Molthal. It has been a long time since I have seen it so clean and prosperous. I am impressed.” She took a small sip of wine, rolling it over her tongue to allow the flavour the fully flower before swallowing. “Even the wine is better than my last visit.”

Ava cocked her head to study him. “Is it everything you hoped for after your campaign?”

Gerra

 

[Gerra]

"Such flattery, come now. You know that the wine was aged long before my ascent."

He ran a tongue along his teeth and set the pipe down, then accepted a goblet from the slave.

"This is a white wine," he swirled it, "pressed from grapes grown on the slopes of the Seret Mountains. Transported down the Baal-Asha river by boat. The merchants have learned to work together, to form guilds and alliances to overcome distance and danger... all for coin."

The Emperor took a sip.

"Yet among the nobility of court, well, you are well apprised. Keeping the Abtati Sheikhs and Kaliti Emirs from killing each other has proven as absorbing an endeavor as the campaign."

 

[Ava Gilleth]

"Perhaps," she replied with a sly smile, "But company and surroundings can affect taste just as much as age." Flattery was easy. Hollow words to caress an ego and Ava had no doubt that Gerra would see them for exactly what they were. Habit made her play the game, time would teach her new rules for a new host.

"Ah yes," she said, sitting up a little straighter "the problem of too many men with what they perceive as power. Merchants are easy, power is unimportant to them, but Sheikhs and Emirs? Well, they are a different breed of stupid. Ego's too big to fit them all into one room, pride that is wounded with a simple prod and leads to blood feuds for days and a hunger for whatever is on someone else's table."

Yes, she was well appraised.

"You could try giving them a common enemy. It would keep them occupied for a time, but they will eventually revert back to the original. Childish squabbling is their norm. Must be terribly exhausting for you." She gave him a pitying smile.

 

[Gerra]

"Mmm, yes," he pressed the goblet to his lips and drank deeply, then paused to stare into its depths, "Finding the right kind of lasting enemies for them to rail against has proven exhausting."

Though the divine mandate he operated under prevented most from chaffing over much. No one wished to go against a ruler appointed by the gods themselves.

"Not so lasting as to prove a great threat, but neither so weak as to be easily crushed or dismissed. So many pieces upon the board, each with their own wants and...." Idly, he reached out, a finger whispering along the pillow she sat on, then up onto her thigh.

"....Designs. Most exhausting."

Eyes like embers fixed on her.

"But I find other ways of passing the time."

 

[Ava Gilleth]

Ava quelled the quiver that threatened to run through her at his touch, taking a small sip of wine before gracing him with an alluring smile.

"I imagine you do." She imagined he had a harem of women to use as playthings or, at the very least, a long line of concubines that would bend to his will. Ava always found it fascinating, the lengths people would go to for the favour of their lord or simply the coffers they offered.

"You must show me how the great Gerra of Molthal passes time in the quiet moments."

 

[Gerra]

He peered over the rim of his glass at her, hand still resting on her leg.

"Must I?"

Children not born of Fire Giants were taught never to play with fire. But that had never stopped Gerra. How could fire harm him? So too did he feel as he stared into the shifting depths of the sorceress' stare. How might she envenom him, when he could see the fangs plain as day?

His lips curled upward in the slightest of smiles.

"Come closer then."

 

[Ava Gilleth]

Ava's spine tingled, and not in a good way. She was not foolish enough think she was safe here, nor was she so arrogant that she thought she could escape if things went pear shaped. Every move, every word from this moment forward would have to be carefully calculated.

The smoke that hung lazily in the room drew tightly around the pair, obscuring them from view from the rest of the court. She would play his game, but she was not about to be named a harlot for it. She leaned a little closer, but not so close that he would not have to close the rest of the distance.

 

[Gerra]

For a heartbeat they remained still in the smoke, their faces inches away.

She could be an assassin, waiting to slit his throat. Or she could be waiting to cast a spell on him, to make him her thrall. The peril of it made his heart race. His chest rose and fell, fresh tattoos in strange runes gleaming black on his neck.

Then Gerra's hand on her thigh moved up to her waist and pulled her to him. His lips crushed against hers, heedless of the poison that might drip from them. He threw aside his goblet, the wine splashing across the wall.

A wise servant drew a set of curtains shut across the hall leading to them and answered all questions with:

"The Emperor is not to be disturbed."

Guests began to trickle away to other parts of the palace, used to Gerra's shifting moods.

 

[Ava Gilleth]

Fire burned in her belly, rising through her as her pulled her into a hard kiss. Fear melted away, recklessness and primal urge took over. He was beautiful to behold, that much she had known when she walked in the room, but beneath her lips and against her skin? He was exquisite.

Her own goblet disappeared over her shoulder as she pushed him back into the pillows, sliding her leg over till she was straddling him. Teeth raked his lower lip and she sat up, drinking in every detail of his chest, the power of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. She bent low, tracing her lips along his jawline to his ear, interlocking her fingers with his and pinning them, with little effect, above his head.

"This is too easy." she whispered. Brushing her lips against his as she spoke. "You are too easy. Reckless even. Of all the people to take such a risk with, you choose a sorceress who could freeze your heart. Never mind poison or a dagger. Your concubines will go through me first, Gerra. And I want a room in the East Wing."

She smiled, the primal hunger flashing across her hazel eyes, Ava kissed him hard, releasing his hands to do what he wished.

 

[Gerra]

"Is that all?" he rumbled. Rough hands calloused from years at a forge roved from her chest down to her hips.

There was something... intoxicating about her, from the way her eyes never seemed to stay the same shade, to the hints of gold that gleamed in her hair. No, not the jewelry, but the tresses of dark aureate shimmering in the light of the braziers around them.

"Life without risk is no life at all."

In a sudden burst of strength, he flipped her over onto her back with ease. He put his weight on one hand, spread out beside her head, looming over her. The fingers of his other hand traced down her cheek, then wrapped around her throat.

One squeeze could crush her wind pipe. One twist could snap her spine. He bent low, until his lips brushed against her ear.

"But do not think me helpless."

If she could sense the energy residing in the tattoos across his body, then she would understand he did not refer to his physical prowess.

"Both your wishes will I grant, yet what do I receive in return?"

The hand on her throat moved down, exploring the limits of her bodice.

"And do not play coy, I am not in the habit of exchanging favors for pleasure."

 

[Ava Gilleth]

"Of course not."

Ava expected retaliation, it was all part of the game. Battling the primal, keeping a cool head while the body tries to throw you into an abyss of sensation, add the fear of the unknown, of the blade that could cut too deep, the hand that could squeeze too hard and it was the best playing field. Her smile never faded, even with the resonating energy and the hand around her throat. Gerra was simply flexing like any other male who needed to assert his dominance.

She allowed it, because to refuse it would mean that this relationship would fail. There would be a time for her to flex back, and this wasn't it. "You will get me. Not the flesh you are so eager to explore, but the mind and the power within it. I will be the court sorceress. I'll handle petty affairs you have no time for. I'll root out the secrets you cannot, identify enemies within and deal with them."


She wanted more than control of concubines and a room in the East Wing. The job came with more and he knew it. Beyond it? Well, she'd raise such demands when the time was right. Ava looped her hands around his neck and yanked him in for another kiss.

 

[Gerra]

Their lips pressed together hungrily with a shared lust for danger and power. This was not a need. It was a want. There was a thrill to knowing that they were both working to achieve their own selfish ends, an excitement in the thought that every ragged, impassioned breath could end with a drawn dagger or prick of poison.

He pulled back from the edge at the last moment before he could lose himself in the smell of her skin. Overpowering hands pinned her wrists above her head to the rug beneath them.

"I don't want you to be some caged bird," he whispered, voice the hot hiss of a roused volcano, "But if you wish to have a place in the court, then you will answer to me and none else."

Gerra leaned closer, eyes like simmering coals staring into her verdant gaze. "I will not be blindsided by poisoned courtiers and suspicious suicides when you see fit to deal with someone. Make your intentions known to me first." His lips pressed against her neck, his breath hot.

"Am I clear?"

 

[Ava Gilleth]

There was that dominant flex again. Ava smiled and closed her eyes. "You will not be blindsided by anything, so long as you understand that you are not my master, nor my king. You are simply a king." A king that could provide her with what she needed. If he stopped being useful to her, the game would change all together.

"This is not me bowing to you, this is a mutual business arrangement." she wrapped her legs around his waist and opened her eyes.

"Now shut up and kiss me, Gerra ."

 

[Gerra]

"Of course," he muttered in between kisses, "Simply business."

This one had fire in her veins. He could not help but find her alluring. Adventurous hands began to impatiently remove clothing that stood in the way - meddlesome - preventing the feel of lithe skin and corded muscle.

"My lord-" a slave's voice.

"OUT!" roared Gerra.

"The... the guests, my lord."

"Send them home," he rumbled, eyes fixated elsewhere, "The party is over."