Draconess

My ascension day was spent walking along every street, aquatinting myself with every citizen who would spread the news. I was now the Empress. That was the easy part.

The latter half of the day was my official ascension to Empress, coupled with Rey’s official ‘funeral’ and Torrent’s absolute glare of defiance after stumbling out of the infirmary earlier in the afternoon; a promise of trouble to come.

The festivities of my new reign begin stagnated – or rather, enhanced, you could say – by the drama that comes with being a woman.

Such as the obvious themes of unnecessary and implied degradation.

At first, I consider myself safe as I sit upon a throne with Zarcar at my right and Lixar at my left, guarding my chair for the ceremony set outside, in the main square. I decided to have the ascension outside the realm of the palace – and more inline with the commoners. All were welcome.

We’ve been served fresh food but I am not hungry yet.

The crowd is generally confused but happy for a feast and music and a dance.

The whole ruling thing is getting quite boring sitting on a throne however. I don’t know how Rey used to do that, sitting so much while being stared at. Talk about boring.

I decide I can’t be that kind of Empress.

“Why is Torrent still scouting the perimeter?” I whisper under my breath, after my eyes scan the shadows of the square, and I spot him stalking around with silent grace and a deadly look in his eye.

“My eldest brother is simply distracting himself from challenging your reign, he does not rush political or romantic movements, Chyronex, nor when they are intangible,” Zarcar murmurs, “He would still love you to heel, he will not simply kill you.”

“Oh, men, fuck him,” I hiss.

“You should though,” Lixar agrees on my other side, reaching over and randomly squeezing my left tit in his hand, as if it’s as normal as shaking my hand, “Use sex to manipulate him.”

Zarcar bursts out laughing, while Lixar unhands my tit, ignoring my glare, to stand tall and glare at his cousin instead, “What’s so funny, Zarcar?”

“Chyronex can’t handle my brother – she is too lenient and merciful, Tor would take advantage of that sweetness she omits during sex,” Zarcar quickly corrects himself, by glancing down at me and winking, and smirking, “…the only way to keep him contained, is to bargain and make him your ally, not your suitor.”

“We are not getting married,” I snap, reading his mind, “I would rather marry my own ass.”

“It’s a beautiful ass, Empress, shall you sit on my lap so I may warm it with my generously girthed and lengthy cock?” Lixar offers to hold my hand, “Viperae?” he whispers, when he sees my second glare.

I give Lixar a good friendly slap and jump to my feet.

“I need to dance and show everyone my true nature – I will not pretend to be something I am not,” I direct that last part to Zarcar, who has been advising piety over decadence all of today while walking me around, “You can sit on the throne, the wooden stool is all yours for all I care, I will dance freely. Keeper – your rules are outdated, I am a woman, not a man – and I am a priestess, not a priest – and a proud Draconess, not an ashamed whore,” I look pointedly at Lixar, and then at Zarcar, smiling at him when he loses his smile and frowns instead.

Lixar has the decency to blush a bit, while Zarcar is just attempting to reign in his usual controlling tendencies while we are in the public eye. Unfortunately for him he explained to me the importance of being seen as completely true to power, so I must have public obedience from my Mystifyers.

Oh, the fun I could have – and was having.

I rip my dress from my body and toss it aside, leaving myself in lacy under clothes as I twirl and pick up two candles for good measure.

I enter the crowd, while I hear a happy screech from Andoll at my deviousness. She rushes into my side, to join my fun. I manage to get the crowd into a jig, while Andoll helps with her shouting and friendly threats amidst the dancing.

“You’re all dead if you don’t obey the Empress – and I will eat your ugly children too, so everyone dance, and please the pretty high lady – look at her feet! I said look! Her feet! LOOK! SIR! Appreciate they’re beauty,” Andoll is generous in all her statements, even while I’m trying to cover her mouth with my hand, yet her mouth keeps moving and sound keeps pouring.

Eventually I give up and just drag her into a friendly hug.

“The moonlight is my best friend, second to you!” I tell Andoll, as she hugs my side and skips around with me.

“YOU ARE MY SISTER!” Andoll screams back at me, nodding and grinning.

I laugh and I feel free of my Mystifyer’s constant surveillance for once. At one point I do notice Zarcar gladly taking a spot on the throne, while Lixar stalks off to drink himself under.

Eventually, when my feet do start to hurt, I slip away into the shadows and find some space for myself.

I head to the marble tree in the centre of the fountain, murmuring a small spell under my breath so I go unseen from mortal eyes for a small time. I sit on the edge of the fountain and cool my feet in the water.

The citizens of Swendula are not fully aware of the huge shift in power, but because no war or threat to their safety looms, I am accepted quicker than if there was a huge political shift in power.

I was already a citizen here, I was already a Queen before.

So, it wasn’t too bad that I was now Empress.

“You have some nerve, Viperae, I am worried,” Torrent speaks from the shadows, of course he does so without me realising his approach.

It is late night as I turn to look over my shoulder and I see him standing by, watching me with a predator’s gaze.

“Do not challenge or fight me while everyone is so happy – learn to relax,” I murmur back, confident enough until Torrent closes the small distance and grabs my elbow, jerking me into his chest as he breathes his rage heavily over the top of me.

“You’re too damn beautiful for me to see your vile mind – conniving and power hungry,” Torrent does nothing else except whisper down over me, “I have a roaring headache from that pan you thwacked over my head – you sly little witch.”

“Priestess, Empress or Draconess. Witch is a rather inaccurate and plainer term,” I correct him, standing up calmly, I turn to face him. I’m watching Torrent shockingly releasing my elbow, almost in disgust as he looks away.

“I have bigger problems than your eyes on my Kingdom,” Torrent admits, out of the blue, “My Hellfire did not permanently banish or kill nor destroy Immortal King Rey –”

“What in Hellfire do you mean?” now I hiss, suddenly afraid as Torrent turns to me again, nodding even while he scowls.

“He is friends with Asmodeus, who is a Prince of Hell – he will be back with a vengeance and you will be in trouble from his extreme rage at your betrayal. Rey will try to kill you, and I must protect you from his selfishness,” Torrent locks his jaw, then grinds out, “I feel him coming soon, and whatever he brings with him – it will not end well for every being who is blindly following your ascension. Empress. Mass death comes tonight. You will lose many allies here in the Swendula army and general population.”

“You’re wrong,” I whisper, but it’s a lie. I feel his truth via instinct alone.

Torrent doesn’t bother to rub in my unsatisfactory and weak reply. Instead he simply murmurs, solemnly, while watching me from hooded, judgemental eyes, “An Empress will see death tonight… have you considered if you can handle it, Chyronex, when every bloody death of an innocent, ends up being all your fault?”

“Rey will not kill his own citizens –” I begin to murmur.

“Listen to your language. They are your citizens now, are they not?” Torrent snaps, “How will you hold reign?”

I can’t believe I’m about to ask this of the bastard, but I gulp and I let it out, “…well… dearest Torrent…do you have any well meaning advice on how to combat Rey if he does rise from the dead…?”

I mean my question, despite my blush at asking him for advice.

I need Torrent’s help and wisdom.

If Rey is really able to return; there would be more than Hellfire to pay.

“You need leverage, Empress,” Torrent’s lip curls cruelly with my title, spoken with such intense and heavy sarcasm, “…so tell me, what do you have…?”

I gulp.

Gold? Money? Nope.

Land? Allies? Nope.

What did I have?

My body.

My magic.

My Draconess.

Power. Female power.

And a –

“I have a Venatores – we’re built to kill him,” I answer.

“You won’t – how can you make him heel?” Torrent asks me again, “Leverage. Think harder.”

I already know.

Aisha.

I gulp before I murmur up to the enraged King of Uldaya, who is briefly on my side, simply because he hates Rey more than he wants me to heel tonight, “I may have an idea.”