The Scion's Secret 1.4

The Scion’s Secret


Elysia carefully stepped over the twitching body so as not to stain her shoes with the rapidly pooling blood. She knew the cant of staunching, of course, but if she stopped to administer aid, she would be late for the opening songs.

Elysia was almost at the door when she paused to consider. With a sigh she hurried back to the prone form of the girl. Elysia leaned over, lifted one of the delicate hands and looked into the terrified eyes.

"Thank you," the girl whispered.

Elysia smiled, plucked the cameo ring from the delicate hand and let the arm drop. She could acquire another boudoir maid easily enough, but the carved ring was as rare as Elysia’s alabaster skin.

Elysia started to stand, then noticed the falling hand had splattered blood onto the hem of her toga!

“Worthless daughter of Hagar!” Elysia shrieked and drove her spiked heel through the girl's eye. She stomped down again and again until the girl was still. Kicking a chunk of skull and brains away from her, Elysia yelled for her servants. "I simply can't attend an orgy like this!" She yelled as the first of her servants came running. While one stripped her, two others ran back upstairs for sponges and a fresh toga. The fourth servant looked down at the marble floor

"You! Aline, you shall take Desmoda's place as my fellatrix tonight. Dress yourself as I do, and wear the mask and this ring," she said, handing Aline the cameo she had plucked from Desmoda's hand.


. . . . . . .


Elysia peeked through the curtain, watching Aline with an equal measure of yearning and disgust. He had never asked her name, nor had he mentioned his. Both Elysia and he had let their domino masks slip long enough to appraise each other. His cameo ring was mere moonstone, which meant he was barely of a social status to participate in this upper class mass fornication. It was more likely that he had been chosen as a prime physical specimen than he was of the nobility. She eyed the broad chest of this man that had been wooing her all night. He was as sculpted as Elysia had imagined he would be. when he told her that he was the model for many of the golden statues in the Solaris temple.

She sighed and wondered what it was like.. As much as she wanted to participate, It simply wasn't conceivable that a scion of the Lunaris high templar would sully herself with a common plebe.

The handsome man looked up toward the curtain and smiled.

Elysia felt her ears grow hot and she stepped into the chamber, pulling the mask from her face and letting her auburn hair cascade down over her shoulders. "You knew all along!"

"Of course I did. You neglected to braid her hair with jewels as yours is."

"And yet you still, you still…" Elysia stammered then looked down and noticed that Aline hasn't stopped ministering to him.

"Of course," the man said, "You have your dignity and I have my needs. The purpose," his face contorted briefly, "The purpose of all women is the same, at least in private." He patted the top of Aline's head, and she crawled backward and left the chamber without a single word. "The only real difference at all is the price of ownership."


......


If anything, he was even more magnificent in the bright sunlight. His oiled muscles rippled and the poise of his stride were regal beyond his plebian station in life. Elysia watched from inside the courtyard as the handsome man who had disgusted her a few nights before produced a large leather sack and extended it out toward her father.

Her father placed the sack on a scale and smiled. In return, her father handed over a ceremonial dagger that looked more like a cleaver. The five elders in their grey cloaks stamped their staffs against the ground to affirm that they had witnessed the event.

Elysia could not believe what she was seeing. She had been sold in coemptio!

Elysia wanted to lock herself a in a tower. She wanted to slay her entire staff and burn down her father's house. She did neither, of course, and felt the blood draining from her face as she turned away from the ceremony and quickly sought the dark solitude of the wine cellar. They would not look for her there, where a single drink for a woman meant death.

How could this thing have happened? She had once imagined herself as a grand player in the future of Sarn, a meretrix to a senator at the very least. Now she was just another piece of merchandise that had been bartered off. No doubt the right of connubium had cost the plebian model dearly, but as one of the High Templars, her father had no need of orbs.

Doubtless, the bulging sack was filled with exalteds and eternals, and most likely a promise of troops sworn to service.

Elysia would see none of that wealth,of course. All she would see would be the sweaty face of the man as he leaned over her and tilled and sowed her like a plot of dirt. How many others had he soiled the same way after failing to seduce them? How many other maidens did he farm with his seed? Elysia reached for a bottle and almost opened it, before she set it back down and let the anger and sorrow wrack her body with shudders.

She had to think fast. In seven days her blood would be on his sheets and he would surely break her spirit as he thrashed about atop her until she submitted to his every whim. That could not be allowed to happen! She screamed inwardly. She would not discard all the talents she had learned just to be another breeding vessel! Aside from her own skills, there were many cruel tricks she had learned from watching her father work.


. . . . .



Dorian strutted across the parapet once more, basking in the high pitched adulation of the nubile townswomen below. He was resplendent in the masterfully crafted armor his uncle had sculpted for him. The valiant helm with its side to side arc of crimson feathers was the only part he didn't like as it obscured his chiseled visage. Luckily, he only need wear the helm during parades.

He waved again to the crowd, pointed at three maidens to come up the stairs and join him, and then headed back inside to cool off. They might not appreciate the ice bath, but he would after an hour in the bright Oriath sunshine.

He didn't bother to learn their names, but upon closer inspection realized that one of them resembled his bride to be, Elysia, so he sent her away. Elysia was pretty enough, but she had a tongue like a serpent, and Dorian had already pledged not to murder her until after she had produced a grandchild for the high templar.

He had been surprised at first that the templar had offered her so cheaply. A handful of chromatiques and the High Templar had sworn his daughter's hand, giving him the sacrificial knife from his chef Bino's kitchen to use when the time came. Dorian had no need of her body, he had a surfeit of flesh to statisfy as it was, but the marriage would elevate his family to the ranks of the patrician.

He suspected the templar’s daughter was as rebellious as she was headstrong. The High Templar was not one to brook dissent, indeed his staff of office attested to his unflinching demands. Each of his acolytes pledged their right hand, had their forearm cut off and then bronzed and welded to the preceding arm, making a macabre totemic staff.

Doubtless, Elysia had been trained in some of her father's dark talents before he realized the danger she would someday pose. No matter, she would be under a pall of silence, and bound securely except during the wedding ceremony, and the coital nuptials afterward.


. . . . .



Elysia was infuriated when she learned how little she had been sold for, and she knew exactly whom Bino’s tainted assassin’s dagger was intended for. She remained calm and introspective when her father’s guard carried her off and locked her in Dorian’s boudoir with only the woolen tunic they dressed her in to her name. She screamed and pounded at the door, “I have no wreath of flowers, no ribbons to braid my hair, and no flammeum to protect me from evil spirits! The crowd will know the marriage is a sham and cry out for justice!” She stopped pounding the door when her knuckles started bleeding.

An hour later, the door opened and two guards brought in ribbons and a basket of flowers.

“I cannot braid my own hair without a mirror, and I still need my jeweled flammeum,” Elysia whispered, keeping her gaze focused on the floor. “You can find them both in an urn beside my old bed.”

“And why should we care if you are protected, or look your finest?” One of the ebon armored guards sneered.

“Above the urn there is a niche in the wall where I keep my Lararium,” Elysia said.

“Go on,” the guard said, definitely interested now. The shrine of the household gods were usually some kind of key to a family’s secreted stash of wealth.

“Take out the Dioskouri, and set them aside,” Elysia looked directly into the soldier’s eyes now, “Then open the hidden floor in the niche and take out the Earth Mother, saying: Enos Tellus iuvate.”

“Nothing good can come from disturbing a chthonic deity,” the guard backed away from her.

Elysia grabbed his hand before he could turn away, “Please, I beg of you,” she fell to her knees. “Tellus will become your protector as she protected me from sword, claw and arrow, though you must be wary of fire, ice and lightning.”

“Let’s see how well protected you are, the guard said and drew out a small very sharp dagger.

Elysia offered up her palm, “Tellus protects me.”

The guard plunged the dagger through her palm and then quickly drew it out. Elysia flinched, and there was blood on the dagger, but no wound on her hand.

“And what do I say to the Dioskouri?” the guard asked, putting the dagger back into its sheath.

“Say nothing, dash those unfaithful twins to pieces. They have not served us well, if at all.”

“It shall be as you say,” the guard paused before closing the door. “Are you certain there are no hidden orbs you can tell me about?”

“I need to be married properly,” Elysia stood. “Bring me those two items, and I may remember a few caches of orbs that are not well guarded.”


. . . . .



The fateful day was finally here. For Elysia, it seemed that the bright sun mocked her, promising to light the world with truth, but deserting it every night to allow evil to prevail. She desperately needed something more faithful to ease her fears, and she fingered the green and red jewels in her flammeum. The yellow orange veil was supposed to resemble the flames of the hearth fire and protect her until she could establish her own fire in her husband’s home.

Dozens of tables had been set up for the feast that would come later, though she smelled nothing cooking yet. It could be that she was numb to the world. The priest was saying words, but she couldn’t really hear him. She did hear the name “Dorian” a few times. This must be my husband’s name, she thought. Her hand was being held up and an iron ring was slipped onto it.

Suddenly, it felt as if a fog had been lifted from her mind. The world was sharp and clear again, and the priest was whispering words for her to repeat.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” Elysia said loudly, with as much false conviction as she could muster. She looked down to see that her tunic had been tied in a great knot below her waist. A knot that could only be cut off by my husband, she thought and then felt the fog come again, and it seemed as if someone kissed her.

Dorian maintained twenty paces between them once the wedding kiss was done. Duelist, he was not, but that distance should be sufficient, especially with the potent dagger at his side. The pall of silence seemed especially effective on Elysia, putting her into a mindless trance. He had the guards grope her a few times to test her awareness, but she was blithely unaware of anything. His suspicions were both confirmed and allayed when they finally got to the bridal chamber. Elysia immediately plucked up her mirror and examined her coif. There was a single moment when the mirror flicked back towards him, but then Elysia was lost again in self admiration.

The Lunaris Templar was right, Dorian thought. Elysia cared about nothing but herself. While the guards watched her, Dorian went to see how the preparations for the feast were going. Bino had promised a traditional wedding banquet of twenty real virgins, flayed and rotisseried.

Dorian quickened his steps down the steps and toward the kitchen. He would have to hurry if he was to be able to make use of some of them before their skin was peeled off and fried for appetizers.

Bino nodded as Dorian came in and set two alchemic orbs on the table. Bino tossed him a key, “Pick three, and then I’ve got to get started on the rest. Libations won’t hold the feast crowd long.”

A cot had been set off to one side of the kitchen and twenty women stood against the wall, with their legs in brass shackles. Bino walked along the line of beauties. “Some of you may wish to live. If you please me well enough, this day will not be your last,” he said as he dismissed two whose bodies were too slender and three who were too plump. Five had the vacant eyes of utter shock, and he dismissed them as well. Seven writhed and danced for him, smiling and beckoning to him, but the three most beautiful merely looked downward. He picked those three, unlocked their shackles and motioned them toward the cot. They would become eager enough as they watched, heard and smelled the fate of the others just a few feet away from them.



. . . . .



Once Dorian had left the room, Elysia had began talking to herself loudly. Each of the guards tried to find an excuse to be elsewhere, and in less than an hour Elysia was truly alone.

She carefully unwound the flammeau and extracted three emeralds. One of the emerald gems created a ghost of a weapon that could be hurled, another delved into the user’s id, ego and superego to create lesser reproductions of the ghost weapon, and the last was like the eye of a jade eagle, granting the user the accuracy of a bird of prey.

After this was done, she examined the mirror, painstakingly searching it for the image she sought. Kalandra had never mastered the thaumaturgy necessary to replicate the most powerful artifacts, but her father had been researching a method that utilized an orb of eternity fused with a mirror that created a temporary copy of an item while temporarily destroying the original. When the sun rose again, the magic would fail, so she would have to act quickly. Elysia shattered the mirror, while uttering the seven secret names.

The broken mirror shards and a reflection of Bino’s dropped to the floor and Elysia quickly inserted the gems. She cut the knot off her tunic and used the cloth to wrap the blade. She had to find a place to hide it. There wasn’t anywhere! No, there was one place the guards would be forbidden to look unless she gave them a good reason. With the blade tucked out of sight, she awkwardly walked back to the bed and tried to make herself look sultry.


. . . . .


Dorian was well into his cups, but not so drunk that he didn’t have two guards precede him into the bridal chamber. The cook had been very displeased when his powerful knife suddenly vanished, and Dorian barely had time to finish his duties. His energy had been well spent, first in sating the three very eager beauties, and then later in holding them down afterward for Bino to flay.

Dorian looked into Elysia’s fiery eyes and winced. Even Bino would flinch looking into that hateful gaze. “Tonight you may sleep at ease my dearest.”

“Lex Atziri!,” Elysia turned toward the guards, and spoke loudly, “Atziri promised that all would fulfill their ceremonial duties, no matter how well or ill prepared they were. One of those duties is the sacrament of intertwining and it may only be done on the wedding night.”

Dorian laughed, but unconsciously took a step backward, “Rest assured tomorrow we shall make a valiant effort of filling you with child.”

“It is not my fault that you are no longer a man, but a plaything of girls who would break the oaths that keep the cataclysm from returning.”

“You should not speak that word, and you must understand that I have already done my conjugal duties, just not with you.”

“Death needs not your understanding. It only needs your loyalty,” she said. She turned toward the guards, “If this man does not come to my bed before the dawn, inform Bino that he has one more meal to cook.”

“Leave us now!,” Dorian shouted and headed toward the bed.

“Two must be witness,” one of the guards replied, while the other three smirked.

“Very well then,” Dorian said and began to climb onto the bed. A moment later he screamed out, holding the bloody stump of his right hand. He screamed again, and this time his right elbow and half his nose was missing. His third scream was his last, as his entrails began boiling out from the jagged holes Elysia ripped into him.

One guard turned to flee, and the others rushed toward her with their swords drawn. Elysia twirled the dagger in the criss crossed loop of infinity and then let it fly from her hand. The one dagger became three and the rushing guards tumbled forward and fell still. The other guard had escaped! Elysia was about to make her own exit when she felt a quick small sting on her neck. Damn them! She thought, as the numbing dart rapidly took effect. She barely had the strength to look into guard’s eyes, as he held a crossbow aimed at her.

“Such a pretty bird, deserves a pretty cage where she can sing for the old aristocrats of Sarn,” the guard said, firing another dart into her.

Elysia shivered. She had heard the tales of the foul things that terrorized the Sceptre. Anything but that! She thought to herself and then the world went black around her.

"

If thats not a wall of text i dont know what is.

O_O

A rather enjoyable wall of text, if I may add.

I liked it, but I think it will end up in OT eventually.

Where is the part when Tora and The Ranger have hot lesbian sex?

"

Fivefingerheist wrote:

Where is the part when Tora and The Ranger have hot lesbian sex?

Dont think Tora swings that way, she has an interest in Vagan.
Ranger will have to do with her decoys.

"

"

Fivefingerheist wrote:

Where is the part when Tora and The Ranger have hot lesbian sex?

Why bring immature comments into this thread, WHY CHRIS WHY?

There's a good reason the ranger hasn't tried to hook up with Tora, but that's a much longer origins type story that I'm not finished with. Should have it done soon, and then continue on the witch's origin which is halfway done.