Haunted Eyes Upon the Imperial Bedchamber [sidethread]

[Andolin]

"I am no dark creature," he assured her, "nor am I a creature of light. I am simply a mortal with a great destiny." There was no need for false humility here.

"If I wanted a simple girl to seduce, I would have selected one of the farmers in the throne room. You must admit that they are nothing but mere background in what will become a great drama. Yet, you ... you are special. You shall have a role to play, but it shall be with me. That is what the dreams try to whisper to you. Your Matrimonio is unimportant. I assume he is just another merchant. The World is full of wealthy men Rosalie," he whispered derisively as he continued to grind against her.

"Love can take many forms, my dear. It is merely an affection for something. Who is this man you profess to love Rosalie? Did you stop to think that if you truly loved him, you would be in his arms right now, rather than mine." He paused to judge her reaction, though he continued to move in her.

"I would not be a man if I did not love. Love is a good thing that should be shared rather than hoarded. It is like a fine wine, Rosalie, it is to be shared with special company." His last sentence was but the barest whisper as he lowered his lips again to hers and once more began to pick up the tempo of their union.

[Rosalie Marcada]

He was flattering her, whispering seductive words in her ears as his lips grazed over her skin, while trying to convince her this was her destiny. Rosalie did not heed his words. They were but flattery. She needed no dark lover to tell her how special she was. That had been ingrained to her since birth. It was a given. A burden more than anything else. That didn't by rights turn her into a treacherous erotic tool of destruction to be wielded by the Caesar to defeat her nation.

Rose did not answer Andolin's question about the identity of her Amore, noting absentmindedly how he not even once considered the possibility that her love and her future husband might be one and the same. He knew her too well.

The petite woman was helpless against his grinding hips, her body enslaved by the passion he could command, just by his mere gaze. Rosalie could not stop it even though her mind screamed at her to stop this treachery, her nails burrowing deep into his shoulders to hold on for dear life. Soft gasps were illicited from her lips every time he touched a sensitive spot.

Rosalie knew deep down she was a traitor. Not to her nation, but to her love. Not once had she considered him, except for her own needs. He had to be safe, because she wished to partake in his presence, denying him even the satisfaction of vendetta when she had been hurt, destroying his honor. She would not marry him because his status was too low for her to even consider it. With total disregard for his person she had no consulted him on the matter and arranged a marriage with another. Rose had been quite ruthless in the pursuit of her own pleasures instead of putting Verducci's interests above all else and no doubt it would leave the poor man heartbroken.

Bitter tears flowed from her amber eyes. Perhaps the bitterest realization was that she would continue to betray her love for the good of her nation and of course, above all, herself. "Deus, forgive me.." she whispered hoarshly as she covered Andolins lips again, knowing she was not worthy of Kaspars devotion.

A groan escaped the merchantprincess as power itself filled her in this strangest of dreams, giving herself over once more to these demanding passions that she could not deny, how ever much she would try, for the quest to attain ultimate power was what life was all about. Bagascia. The Snake's only daughter.

[Andolin]

It seemed that his words confounded her, which was a thing he could consider a triumph. She did not fight him, spit upon him, or otherwise resist his advances, so he assumed he had convinced her with his simple mix of flattery and philosophy.

The only audible answer he could get was her cry to her god for forgiveness. From what he had heard of Dominicus, he was not particularly known for forgiveness. As such, perhaps he was damning her in the eyes of her god. That was not necessarily a bad thing. It made him feel even more powerful as a result.

Feeling empowered, Andolin devoted himself to making sure Rosalie would not wish to leave him ... by binding her to him in unforgettable passion. So it was that he picked up the tempo of his assault. Words were abandoned in favor of wanton and deep kisses.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie could not have stopped what was going on even if she had wanted to, too far gone in this game of passion. Already she was damned, bittersweet electricity riding her hips, every movement but a reminder of her betrayal, again and again.

Wanton deep kisses covered her groans and ignored the tears that trailed down her cheeks, forgotten. Her limbs wrapped themselves around this powerful figure that completely controlled her, her nails digging deeper in his shoulders. Rose could not let go, for she would fall, down a deep chasm that would open to the Nether. Instead she climbed higher and higher as the Caesar-to-be did with her as he pleased. She would not stop him, could not... for in her heart she knew he was power and that she'd have him on that account alone.

"Take me then," Rosalie gasped bitterly, in between their frantic kisses, "Take me and show me what my future will be like. Will the world end?"

[Andolin]

At last, all forms of resistance melted away and Rosalie gave herself over to him with no more hesitation. It was the best kind of victory, for it was unconditional. It would have been a heady feeling for any male, but moreso for a male that craved control and victory.

"Take you I shall, Rosalie, again and again," he all but promised with a dark hint of mastery in his voice. As if to demonstrate how he would take her, he increased his tempo and energy level as if he sought to pound her into putty.

"No, the world shall not end," he gasped as he felt his climax approaching. "It shall be reborn!" It was an apt moment for his seed to spill into her.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Down into the Nether they went, both of them, Rosalie clinging to Andolin for dear life as the pleasure swept over them, while weeping bitter tears. Deus forgive me. I'm a sinner. I chose to be a sinner. His power burned deep inside of her.

Her ragged breath slowly dying down, Rose wriggled from under the now sated Caesar, rolling down on her tummy to bury her face down into the feathered satin cushions, shame-faced. Her shapely legs were not covered by the satin sheets, though they were crumbled, the bed a clear mess. The purple canopy that surrounded them was strangely regal in contrast.

Rosalie groaned softly, feeling strained muscles and a soreness in places that were so intimate she'd never admit to it.

[Andolin]

Andolin did not impede her desire to roll away from him. She was hiding from no one except herself.

Had he not played the role of the dark master, he would have felt pity for her perhaps. There would be sweet words of reassurance and gentleness. Yet, he was heady with the power of someone who would take rather than ask. It seemed that she too relished the role of being taken. Likely she was kept in a world of timid young men. As such, he made no move to comfort her, other than to lightly trail his index finger the length of her leg and thigh.

If he had the strength to take her again, he would ... and from behind as well. But, he was fatigued, even in the aether. Perhaps it was because he expected to be fatigued. Perhaps he only needed to wish himself renewed vigor.

Such philosophical thoughts were best contemplated later. To complete his image of aloofness, which would perfect his role as her master, he needed to leave her alone so that she would come to crave his company, not from sweet advances ... but because she felt she needed to have him.

As such, he stood from the bed and willed himself to be fully clothed again, and the sheets not even damp. He stood in silence looking down upon her prone form. He could not help but enjoy a last look at her nakedness before returning to the throne room.

[Rosalie Marcada]

A small shiver went through her as she felt a featherlight touch on her thighs, the soft gasp muffled by the cushion that was growing wet with her tears. Her shoulders shook slightly as sobs raked through her body, releasing all the tension that had built up during her imprisonment. The consul felt the weight shift from the bed as Andolin took his leave. The silence safe from her muffled sobbing felt very alone and desperate to her, bringing new tears. She refused to look up as she felt his dark blue eyes sweep over her one last time.

After her good old fashioned cry Rosalie's head rose up, her amber eyes narrowing as her wit returned to her slowly. The Imperial Bedroom was empty. The fireplace still contained glowing embers, warming the room against the winter cold. Her clothes lay upon the floor, torn to pieces. I need my dagger, she realized and was surprised to find it already in her hands.

Rose caressed the cool, sharp blade, the familiar feel of its hilt. There was of course but one way to salvage the shattered remains of her honor. Idly the petite woman wondered if she'd have the courage. It will be painful, but it will cleanse me, at least in the eyes of others. For it would do naught to alleviate this ragged feeling of guilt.

Not delaying any longer Rosalie cut herself in her left hand, almost relishing the sharp pain that accompanied the flow of blood. With quick deft movements she smeared it upon the satin sheets and then her inner thighs, where it mingled with the moistness he had left upon her. Whiping the dagger clean she threw it among the remains of her clothes. Then she threw herself upon the cushion once again, amidst her own carefully created scene of drama. Let at least the servants believe I was an innocent victim.

She drank in the scent of cushions, the sheets, that no longer was that of mere lavender. He had left his scent upon it as he had on her, his most willing prisoner. With a sigh Rosalie admitted only to herself she already missed his teasing presence.

[Andolin]

On his way back to the throne room, Andolin opened the door to the antechamber and was surprised by what he saw ...

An assassination attempt! He started to imagine the number of guards that he had outside his door to be more plentiful.

[Grey Wolf]

The door opened and sounds flooded the beddroom. Clang of steel upon steel. Booted feet upon the floor. And a single voice that rose above the din, clear and distinct. It was a prayer. Prayer to Dominicus and it was Sir Frederic Hagen who uttered it.

"Dominicus, guide my hand,
give me strength to persevere
show me the path and be my eyes.
Let your wisdom give me courage
show your power on this day
banish the magick of the wicked
let me win in your name."

He was coming closer and at a fast pace. He was still not visible through the heavy curtains that draped the bed, but there was no mistaking who it was to those who heard his voice before.

[Rosalie Marcada]

That voice. Rosalie stared in horror to the direction of the door, behind the closed curtains. Of all the people in the Western Kingdom, why does this one end up on my doorstep, at this moment of moments, she thought in utter frustration. Rose wanted.. well, what did she want? She had wanted to be rescued and at least Sir Hagen was doing that. Why did that annoy her? Rosalie didn't want to admit that to anybody, not even herself. The poor paladin was in charge of security. Logic demanded he was the one mounting the rescue as she was his responsibility. However she had hoped... Am I abondoned already, my love? Will you not come for me?

With a hasty movement Rosalie reached out for the silken sheets, covering her front as she sat up in the bed. "SIR HAGEN," she called out with utter mistery in her low throathy voice that was so distincitive for the consul "FOR THE LOVE OF DOMINICUS.. DO NOT LET YOUR MEN COME CLOSER.. I AM... INDISPOSED." No doubt he could already see the clothes on the floor of the Imperial Bedroom and would ask no further.

[Grey Wolf]

Unfortunately, all Sir Hagen could see were the Imperial Guards before him. Andolin materialized out of thin air next to Rosalie and then the room filled with traps. Or more likely one single trap. A huge hole opened just inside the room. Spanning easily fifteen feet in width and almost twenty feet deep its bottom was lined in sharp steel spikes jutting up. It went from wall to wall and there was no way to enter the room. Or leave it for that matter.

CLAAAAAAAANG.

A grunt followed and then half a dozen of Imperial Guardsmen were pushed into the room. With no floor to hold their weight, they simply fell into the pit and impaled themselves upon the spikes with a sickening crunch. Sadly, not all of them died on spot. Groans and screams of pain still reached up. A single man was still visible, his armor pierced in several places, someone's hand visible from under him. The hand clutched desperately, before relaxing forever. The man on top was however not so lucky. His wound were not lethal, but he was in considerable pain and unable to move.

Sir Hagen slowly got up. He collapsed on the floor before the door and for a second stared at the dead and wounded guardsmen bellow. Then his piercing blue eyes fell on Andolin. Gazes locked for a flicker, he shifted his eyes to Madam Consul and noticed the blood on her sheets. Eyes flaring with anger he looked at Andolin, sword trembling in his hands. One long look at the pit and then he took a step forward. Then another. And another. Slowly, the tall man was crossing the pit like it was not there. Floor reformed itself under his feet. His eyes were on the Caesar, intent to kill etched upon his face.

[Andolin]

Well, this was certainly an unwelcome development. His own guards were pushed into the pit whereas the meddlesome paladin seemed to be unphased by it. His look was really quite one dimensional ... and in a bad way. What could one expect from a Oneist after all?

Oh yes, a pack of vicious mastiffs attacking Sir Hagen came to mind. That would delay him the moments he needed to have a heavy crossbow appear in his hands. A extra sharp steel-tipped bolt loaded in it ... and the tip dipped in the most deadly and instantaneous poison Andolin could imagine. That should do it.

The plan was really quite simple. The paladin needed to move slowly over the pit, the dogs would attack him and perhaps bowl him over, while Andolin took a shot with his crossbow at close range. He need not be a marksman, for any flesh wound would deliver the poison. All else failing, Andolin was prepared to imagine himself back in the far side of the throne room with a troop of guards and crossbowmen. One way or another, he would see to it that Sir Hagen felt a steel-tipped death. If he wants a murder so badly, we should give it to him. Whether his armor was punctured by a single shot, or by a squad's, it did not matter.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie was annoyed.. nay angry.

Here she was.. reduced to a damsel in distress in compromised circumstances in some dirty paladins mind. In Hagen's mind, which is possibly worse, Rosalie fumed, trying to get to grips with the whole Aether concept.This has gone far enough. Having not yet experienced it, Rosalie was determined not to suffer death in her dreams for fear it might extend beyond fantasy, nor would she see anybody of any substance be killed before her eyes. The guards she ignored as mere figments of her, or for that matter somebody else's, imagination. Some people were simply not important enough to matter.

With angry movements she tried to tie the sheets around her body, struggling to get up. Then she pushed the curls from her face in vain. They simply bounced back. With all the dignity she could muster she stepped from the bed.

"MERDA, ENOUGH, BASTA !" Rose bellowed, imagining turning their weapons in fluffy peacock feathers and closing over the floor "All men are but peacocks!" she snorted "Cease this ridiculous fight and lets settle this in a civilized manner. Parlez I say."

[Grey Wolf]

The plan was simple, had the need to move slowly been there. However, Sir Hagen did not cooperate, his steps growing more sure with each passing flicker. He was already leaning forward, when a pair of dogs appeared. Large, black and muscled they did not bother barking. With a blood curdling growl both launched themselves at Sir Hagen. With a single mighty leap the first flew through the air, bright red jaws agape, two inch long canines ready to sink into the paladin's neck. And then it died. A single swipe of Sir Hagen's sword and the hound tumbled into the pit bellow.

The other misjudged the distance, and fell short of the mark. Yet, it's ferocity almost saved it. As it fell past the blond hero, the jaws snapped shut over his shin. Hagen did not even flinch, but the hound howled in pain, sliced neatly where his body met the floor. Two realities met and where illusion touched the warrior of Dominicus, mighty God prevailed. The hound let go of the leg, but the head and shoulders remained hanging in the air as Hagen moved onwards.

A crossbow appeared in Andolin hands. Ready and cocked, the bolt head would have shined in the dim lighting, had it not been coated in sticky green substance with a sweet smell. Hagen was an easy target as he stopped to look at Madam Consul, disbelief in his eyes. "Madam Lo Russo?" It was then that Major Domos crossbow became a fluffy peacock feather. It was rather long and red. Eyes still locked with Rosalie's the uncalled rescuer, rose his eyebrows. "You were taken prisoner. Am I to assume that you have come to an arrangement and understanding with this man here? Did you manage to trade something in return for your freedom? If that is the case I could leave you two alone to close the deal." There was disappointment in his voice. Disappointment with just a hint of disgust in his blue eyes, staring at Madam Consul and falling to the bloody stain on her sheets every so often.

[Rosalie Marcada]

The worst crime of Sir Hagen in Rosalie's eyes was not even his own dirty imagination that had him interferring with her dream. Not even the fact she was reduced to a damsel in distress, her form violated for his gratification. No, his worst crime was that he was right. Rosalie had every intention of wretching some kind of agreement out of this episode. That he had guessed at the fact she had not protested too loudly simply infuriated her.

The lady consul drew herself up to her full height, which was laughably short, her amber eyes ablaze "I will not have you judge me, Sir Hagen. Where were you when I was brutally violated? You've come too late. You've failed. You can ask Dominicus forgiveness in the privacy of the confession booth. I am sure Father Bitalli can come up with a suitable penance."

Rose snorted and turned to include Andolin "So, it falls to a mere woman to be practical? I shall have to be practical for the good of both our nations for this is the road to more and more bloodshed without an end in sight, while our real enemies laugh behind our backs. "

Rosalie arched an eyebrow "Lord Azarin.. this is a problem of your own making. You violated your hostage. What do you offer in recompensation so that the land of my father and brother".. the lady meant the Mouth more than the Western Kingdom and was sure the Ceasar could read between the lines.. " ...can be persuaded to call of their vendetta, their war. Perhaps some cooperation can be found that will promote peace and prosperity." Rosalie had trade consessions in mind, perhaps the annexation of certain areas. Kislovan urgently needs new leadership after all. She hoped that the leader of the East remembered her denouncing marriage to him as such a vessel of cooperation.

[Andolin]

It seemed that the crazed mastiffs were little impediment to the paladin. Worse, his plan with the heavy crossbow was frustrated by someone turning his weapon into a feather! It seemed that the paladin's weapon was similarly treated, suggesting that it was Rosalie that was responsible. How did she do that? He had believed that the aether could not be manipulated if it touched another dreamwalker. This suggested a whole new menu of opportunities for him. The first thing he did was imagine the sheets on the bed to be clean and fresh. The blood markings were not going to be helpful.

The surprise at the weapon transformation was only surpassed by the surprise at Rosalie's words. She accused him of violating her and had the gall to demand some compensation. His first thoughts were to reveal just how badly she wanted to be violated. He had robbed a willing victim. His pride then suggested that he laugh at both of them and their pitiful power. Andolin was an egotist to be sure, but he was not completely dense. It was his pride in his power of persuasion that caused him to hold his biting tongue.

"I gift you your freedom, and that of your lady," he announced magnanimously. "If there is more to discuss, then I suggest we do so in the appropriate diplomatic way. Madame Lo Russo shall call upon me at my office in the Citadel on the morrow. There we shall discuss what must be done." He gave a sly smile to Rosalie. Yes, it seemed a perfectly appropriate response. When she came to his office … he would have his way with her again. Such a lovely idea.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie was no stranger to arrogance or egoism, having been endowed with such traits in great quantities herself, so Andolin's thoughts would not have surprised her greatly. She might even have nodded in agreement if she had been aware of his thoughts. Ah yes, isn't it aweful to be foiled in one's designs? Rose knew those frustrations well, too well. However not even the Aether turned Rosalie LoRusso into a mindreader even though having been alerted by Andolin to its possibilities she got a taste for manipulating the Aetherial energies. No, Rosalie relied not on mindreading but on her own cunning and her amber eyes narrowed as she could see something pass over the Ceasars face, before he decided on his course of action.

It was a good thing that the most bloodied sheets were on her person, not on her bed. Since she held her back to large canopied mess, Rose did not see any changes to it. Her cut hand held the sheets around her body, covering the wound with which she had created the drama that saved at least some of her honor. No doubt a concept no Imperialist would ever understand.

It is a trap, Rosalie knew with certainty as Andolin invited her to his office, yet what beyond the obvious can I not see?. A little thrill inside her whispered about all the possibilities of such a meeting, though no doubt Sir Hagen, the prudish pervert, would insist on providing escort. "I want madam Crecce freed immediately as well," Rosalie demanded haughtily, "Since she's done naught wrong but be loyal to my person. She's an Imperial citizen by birth, but a Mouthie by heart. A further ... negotiation ... between the Mouth and Imperial Throne will be acceptable."

[Grey Wolf]

Hagen still held his sword. Brows creased into displeasure, he listened to them both making offers and counter-offers. The displeasure slowly turned into disgust at Rosalie's words, and the sword lowered itself. Ignoring the Major Domos completely, Sir Hagen strode to Madam Consul and stood within inches of her Staring down straight into her eyes, he said nothing for several flickers. Sounds of conversation were coming from the hallway, a voice of Jolanda drifting inside[/b]. Yet, Hagen paid no attention to that. He simply stared into the petite woman before him.

"I....was.....late?" Three words. And a long pause. But, there was no opportunity for anyone to speak. As soon as either Rosalie or Andolin sought to open their mouth, Hagen continued. "I....have....failed?" He almost laughed, but the man was too shocked to laugh. "What do you know of failure, little girl? Do you think you are the center of the universe? What do you know of the price I paid to be here? Of the price my men paid? What do you know of gratitude?" Snorting in disgust, the tall man shook his head. Without turning, his finger pointed at Andolin.

"Appreciate the effort. He violated you. Not me. Yet, I see your anger is pointed my way. Why is that so? Perhaps, you liked being violated? Or rather you saw a possible gain in that? How very...... Mouthie." There was a sneer on paladin's pretty face as he uttered those words. "Don't you dare lecture me. You have a choice. Leave now and leave me to take care of this rapist...... Or, say another word to him and I shall leave. Knowing what a whore you are" Hagen nearly spat those words out. "Yes, a whore. Selling yourself for favors. So, don't you dare lecture me. I was late? Fine. I can't deny I failed to be here to protect you. At least allow me to avenge you. Or admit that you are a....." His words trailed off.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie stared into Hagen's eyes. Never had she hated the man more than in this instance. Strictness. Piety. Male Stubborness. He embodied it all. Of course she was the Center of the Universe. For Hagen to doubt it, and ridicule her over it, only showed what lack the man had in his education. No gentlemen ever behaved like this.

"Sir Hagen," Rosalie said through gritted teeth "There is a reason why you are a military man, and I am a politician. Accept there are things in life you know nothing about. We will now withdraw. Not because you say so.. but because I say so. On the morrow negotiations will start, for the good of the West. If I find you breath so much as a worth of this incident to anybody...You'll just wish you had been honorably slain right here. Such foolishness.. to complain if you are being saved. MEN!' The consul was unable to withhold a loud snort.

Giving a scanting look at Andolin, one that spoke both of their shared passion, and her disdain of his behavior, Rosalie gave a mocking curtsy "Your Highness, we withdraw. Till the morrow!" With her head held up high, without even seeking to recollect her clothes Rosalie marched out of the bedroom in just the bloodied sheet as if it were a silken gown.

[Andolin]

Andolin had been ready to imagine himself in the other room, away from Sir Hagen, but he tarried to see how Rosalie responded to such ... coarse accusations.

"I should be happy to kill him horribly, if it is your wish," Andolin offered mirthfully, while imaginging his flaming sword in hand. Moving away from the paladin, Andolin kept a wary eye on him.

"Yes, tomorrow," he replied, throwing her a knowing smile. As she made to leave with her bloody sheet, the self-proclaimed Caesar imagined her back in the same clothing she arrived in. He could not imagine her walking into the throne room looking like a bloodied victime. She was his guest after all ... and would be again.

[Grey Wolf]

Sir Hagen laughed. It was a coarse loud laughter, akin to a cackle of a madman. His blue eyes settled on Andolin first and a very real threat could be seen in their icy depths. "Your Highness, please don't be ridiculous. I can see through your feeble magicks. That phantasm you hold in your hand is unable to hurt me. You may have powers here, but Dominicus protects me. I see things as they really are." His face grew into a mad grin. "I can show you if you'd like. I can show you what your realm really look like." A sigh, as he turned to Rosalie, uttering last words for the would-be Caesar. "Unless you are afraid of what you might see."

"Little girl. Do not presume that you have any power over me. Not after what I saw right now." He did not move to stop her, yet he did not move to follow her either. "Run along now, and know one thing. I will do as I wish or as my Lord commands. Whether I speak of what transpired today or not is not for you do decide." His voice was venomous, and his attention was focused on her retreating back. "Run along now, little princess and find a new way to sell your body and soul for the biggest profit. And mind not for whom you will hurt along the way. How many men, women and children need to suffer before you realize that the world is much more than Rosalie Lo Russo and her precious little ego?" A sword swished through the air and, Hagen rested it tip down into the floor, leaning on the cross guard and waiting for the pair to depart. Rosalie's clothes did not shift, and it was only the bloodied sheet that she left in.

[Andolin]

"It is you who are blind, sir," Andolin sniffed as he moved away with a disdainful demeanor. "It seems that chivalry is dead when a man who claims to be a knight speaks to a lady so."

As the paladin spoke of men, women and children suffering because of Rosalie, Andolin uttered, "oh please, can you not see the tears welling up in my eyes of the poor plight they suffer because a lady is brave enough to speak her mind and free herself from the shackles of the oppressor." He made to wipe his eyes in feigned sadness and then laughed a mocking laugh as he thought of himself sitting on his throne once more.

It was disturbing enough that Rosalie's clothing did not change on command. Surely Dominicus did not have power here in the world of dreams. Why even the paladin was but a figment of his imagination. He would need to consider lessons learned here and adapt his strategy accordingly.

[Rosalie Marcada]

In Rosalie's mind she had forgotten she wore only the sheet. It became an ivory dress ending in a bloodred fire around her legs, hugging her close except for the widely flaring skirt in Mouthie fashion. It was the last thing to be seen before she disappeared from the room.

OOC: Fin?