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pennyPorn Battle XI was very kind to me! So many tasty prompts, not nearly enough time to indulge in everything I wanted to. I am still peeking at the entries for tasty fills. :3
So here's a repost! I'm grabbing them in fandom order from my Porn Battle file. First up is Final Fantasy XII. This is the only FFXII fic I ended up writing, which makes me a little sad because there were a ton of fabulous FFXII prompts, and a few of the ones I didn't get to are still making flirtatious eyes at me.
But I am very happy with this one! It's a happy ending AU specifically geared towards giving Drace (and Gabranth, though offscreen in this story) puppies and rainbows and ice cream with sprinkles! And for Drace, "ice cream with sprinkles" is Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. (Ashe would like you to know she is not the ice cream with sprinkles -- Drace is her ice cream with sprinkles, thank you.)
~2,800 words for the prompt Ashe/Drace, authority, privileges, respect. AU set postgame, no warnings beyond end of game spoilers.
Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca's coronation is a joyous day for all of Dalmasca. It truly feels like a celebration, and Drace feels no shame in appreciating the formality of the ceremony and enjoying Rabanastre's reaction, even if a number of people do shoot them, the Archadian interlopers, dark looks. The fact they are here at Her Majesty's invitation changes little, though Emperor Larsa's humility when he congratulates the newly crowned Queen and offers her Archadia's friendship and respect does seem to touch the crowd.
The resulting celebration is a three day affair. Emperor Larsa does her and Gabranth the courtesy of retiring somewhat early the second night -- two hours past midnight -- but his enthusiasm makes him ready to rejoin the celebrations at first light.
"Queen Ashelia has granted me an audience," he says from his position between her and Gabranth. They should dwarf him, but he has always carried himself with a presence fitting of House Solidor.
She tilts rather than turns her head towards Gabranth. Her helm does not allow her much peripheral vision, and she hears rather than sees Gabranth mirror her movement. It is the closest they can come to exchanging an amused look when their duty is to escort and protect their Emperor.
She has the longer relationship with Larsa. She has no doubt he would welcome a comment from either of them, but she does have the familiarity of years, and Gabranth yields to her. "Starting negotiations already?" She keeps her tone light and teasing. "I am sure there are those in Dalmasca who would beg you to wait."
"I suppose it is a negotiation of sorts." Larsa skips ahead a few steps, and it reminds Drace of just how young he is. He has donned the mantle of leadership perhaps a little too well. It is easy to forget he is still only twelve.
Queen Ashelia is waiting for them in the Great Hall. Her steward announces them, though there is no audience beyond her personal guards and small bevy of attendants. Basch fon Rosenburg stands at her right in the uniform, not the armor, of the Captain of the Dalmascan Knights. He looks so much like Gabranth, even down to his haircut now, short and neat, his sideburns extending down into a neatly-trimmed beard, that Drace finds she must focus on the scar over his left eye.
"It is kind of you to grant me this audience, Your Majesty," Larsa says, bowing to his equal.
"And it is kind of you to offer me Archadia's friendship and respect." Her expression is impassive, but there is a spark of amusement in her eyes. "I would offer you a kindness in return, if you will permit me." She motions to Basch, who steps forward, eyes fixed on Gabranth. "I have it on good authority that a friend of yours is visiting a respected elder in Lowtown. My captain has volunteered to escort you, should you wish to pay your respects in person instead of through paper."
Larsa straightens. "Penelo?" He sounds so eager and happy, and Drace knows Larsa well enough to know his expression matches his tone.
Queen Ashelia laughs, raising a hand to her lips like the sound startled her. "I think she'd like to see you." There's still laughter in her tone, warmth, and the way she looks at Larsa is the way one friend looks at another. It is a hopeful sign. Perhaps there can be more than peace between their nations.
"Yes!" Larsa remembers himself. He clears his throat. "And I was hoping to see your Lowtown. I had come here asking if you would loan me Captain Basch as an escort."
"In place of your own?" Queen Ashelia asks, the delight in her eyes deepening.
"In addition to Gabranth." Larsa hesitates.
He has not shared his plan with her, and Drace knows that is why he hesitates. She steps forward. "It is only polite to offer an exchange. If Her Majesty allows it, I would stand in her captain's place until his return."
The Queen considers. Or pretends to. She does not have an expressive face, but Drace is used to noticing understated displays. Queen Ashelia is happy. She wishes for Larsa to see Penelo, and also wishes for Basch and Gabranth to have a moment together. Their reconciliation is still delicate. If this game will strengthen it, Drace will gladly play a part.
"Your name, Your Honor?" Queen Ashelia asks.
"Drace."
"Drace." She nods. "I've seen other Judge Magisters fight, including your companion, Judge Gabranth. I will be as safe as your hands as I am in my captain's, so it is an acceptable exchange." The corners of her mouth quirk. "Until his return."
Their audience may be small, but it is still an audience. One must play to their expectations. Drace bows, making the motion deliberate and measured so the shift of her armor sounds impressive. "I will protect you as I would my Emperor."
She hears Gabranth sigh behind her, quietly, so only she and Larsa can hear. He will not say they could have just asked him to seek out his brother because then they would have to counter it would need to be an order. And Gabranth is the type to be touched by Larsa's mechanizations. Drace will happily play her part in them.
Queen Ashelia smiles, a calculating and challenging smile that inspires the beginning curl of lust in Drace. Yes, she will happily play her part.
* * *
Queen Ashelia dismisses her audience and leads Drace on a tour of the palace. She seems to be using the time to consider what she truly wants. Drace allows it. "I am tempted," Queen Ashelia finally says, "to show you the Garamsythe Waterway, but I fear all entrances are heavily guarded, and my advisors have left word with the guards that they are to ignore my orders for access." She turns to face Drace, her expression half-amused, half-resigned. "It is no longer acceptable for me to hunt sewer rats."
"From what I understand, the rats would offer you no challenge, Your Majesty."
She smiles. "There are other things that would. It is a shame. I would have liked to see you fight."
"If Your Majesty truly wishes it, you need only ask my Emperor. He would arrange for a demonstration." Drace chuckles. "After today, I am sure Judge Gabranth will happily square off against me."
"Is he...fully recovered?"
"I would not wish him to face you or any of your companions again, but yes, he is fully recovered and has resumed his duties with renewed vigor." Indeed, Gabranth is a better man for the fight.
"Good." Queen Ashelia nods. She seems to make up her mind about something, because she nods again, and her expression opens, becomes vulnerable. "I am allowed to participate in my county's celebration, but tomorrow, I must only be Queen Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. So until then, please, call me Ashe."
"My Emperor would have me obey you as if your orders are his."
Queen Ashelia studies her, and though she cannot see Drace's face through her helm, Drace does have the impression she understands something of Drace's expression. "So I must order you?"
"We are both bound by duty." She considers the rest of her reply, then says, "Mine, at the moment, is to respect your wishes, though I admit it will be difficult to address you as Ashe instead of Your Majesty."
"Would ma'am be an acceptable compromise? Or mistress?"
"Mistress." It is a common title in Archadia, a respectful title. Not as respectful as the correct title, but if Queen Ashelia wishes to forget her title for the remainder of the celebration so she can more easily bear her duty when she can, as she says, only be Dalmasca's Queen, mistress is an acceptable substitute.
"Then it will be Mistress Ashe."
Drace inclines her head. "As you wish."
Mistress Ashe swallows. "And if I wish other things?"
"I am yours to command until my Emperor returns with your captain."
The flush that spreads across Mistress Ashe's cheeks is promising. Drace is thankful for her armor, her helm. It means she can consider Mistress Ashe without worrying about schooling her expression. Gabranth has not spoken much about his fights against Mistress Ashe and her companions, but he has praised Mistress Ashe's swordsmanship, and it takes considerable skill to earn his praise.
* * *
Mistress Ashe leads Drace to her quarters. They are large, on the topmost level of the castle, and overlook the east end of Rabanastre. The room still smells faintly musty from disuse, though everything is clean, the sheets and curtains crisp, the wood polished and warm. Mistress Ashe crosses to the doors opening to a balcony and draws the curtains tight. She does it to all the curtains, so the room is plunged in a twilight sort of dimness.
Drace stands just inside the door, says nothing.
Mistress Ashe turns from the last window. "Would you remove your helm?" She is already working loose the veil from her crown.
"If you order it."
Mistress Ashe smiles. "I forgot. You are mine to command."
"Until my Emperor returns with your captain."
"Yes." Her smile widens. "Remove your helm."
Drace obeys. It does make her feel exposed. Since her promotion to Judge Magister, few outside of the members of House Solidor and her fellow Judge Magisters have seen her face. But she is to obey Mistress Ashe as she would her Emperor, and while Larsa would not ask for her sexual service, orders are orders, and Mistress Ashe is the type of woman Drace would gladly give herself to. So if Mistress Ashe's orders turn sexual, as Drace suspects they will, there will be no conflict between them and her desires.
Mistress Ashe sets her veil down on the vanity and strides towards Drace. She spends a moment studying Drace's face, her admiration plan on her face. "Of course you're a Judge Magister." She reaches up and threads her fingers through Drace's hair, cut short for ease. It is, Drace knows, flat and sweat-slicked from her helm. Dalmasca's climate is warmer than what she is used to. "You have a strong face."
"You are too kind, Mistress."
She holds out her hand for Drace's helm. Drace hands it over willingly, reminding herself once again that she is Mistress Ashe's to command. It is more for the thrill of acknowledgement than a warning to hold herself back. She is curious what Mistress Ashe will do with her.
Mistress Ashe moves behind her. Drace watches her out of the corner of her eye. There is an armor stand by the door. Of course. These were likely King Raminas's quarters before they became Mistress Ashe's.
She sets the helm on the stand and comes back in front of Drace, reaching up to trace the neck of the armor with her fingers, then runs her hands down the chest plate. "Will you permit me to remove your armor?"
"If that is your command."
"I am uncertain of the etiquette."
This would not happen in Archadia. But they are not in Archadia, and Drace...she is curious. "Let us agree to this etiquette, then: if you would ask it of your captain, you may ask it of me."
"My captain," she says, pressing her palm flat against Drace's chest plate, "would balk at me undressing him in my quarters."
"Is it your right as his --" Queen is on the tip of her tongue, but Drace catches herself, remembers Mistress Ashe's desire to shed her proper title for this day, "Mistress?"
Mistress Ashe meets her eyes. Drace fills her own with heat, her willingness. Dalmasca is much like Archadia, like every nation, in the respect that it demands much of its nobility. It keeps people from speaking their true thoughts and feelings, but there are other means to communicate them, and people in their positions quickly learn how to spot the expression of the thoughts and feelings one cannot voice.
"Yes, it is," Mistress Ashe says, sliding her hands back to the catches of Drace's armor. "You will permit me the honor of removing your armor, Judge Drace."
"Yes, Mistress." Her throat is tight. Judges are a special class. There are reasons why each Judge Magister has his or her own unique armor, why they only claim the title in full armor, why only Lords of House Solidor can demand they remove their helms and show their face. But not even Lords of House Solidor can demand this of them.
And for all that Mistress Ashe says she is uncertain of the etiquette, she seems to understand how intimate this is for Drace. Her expression is grave, her touch sure, and she makes a point to be open with her admiration so it is clear she has not demanded this to strip Drace of her power. She is celebrating Drace's power. And she is also celebrating her power because it is her right as Drace's current Mistress to share this with her.
Drace wears simple garments beneath her armor, her tunic and leggings made from wyrdhare wool, valued for its wicking properties. Mistress Ashe reaches out and fingers the collar of her tunic, the only part dyed Imperial colors. "If all of her servants are like you, it is no wonder Archadia is such a mighty empire." There is only a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"Archadia looks to the future, just as I hope Dalmasca does. Or will come the morning. It seems the focus of a celebration should be on..." She does not have the familiarity of years with Mistress Ashe. Would she overstep her place if she said what she wished? Well, this is only until Emperor Larsa's return. It is worth the risk. "Pleasure."
Mistress Ashe laughs. "Is this how you address your Emperor?"
"In theory. I have been at his side for all of his twelve years, and in private, he demands a certain degree of frankness. However, like your captain, there are things he would balk at."
"You've no need to defend his honor. I know he is not the kind of man who abuses his position."
"If you are seeking reassurance, Mistress, I have experienced no abuse at your hand thus far."
"Thus far?" She raises an eyebrow.
Drace answers with a smirk of her own. "I do not anticipate any abuse, but I've no fortune-telling gambits equipped."
"So I may yet surprise you?"
"Not on this front. My Emperor would not trust me to you if you were the type to abuse your position. But you may in other areas." She kneels, a knight before her sovereign. "If that is your wish."
* * *
Mistress Ashe takes her to her bed. She is deliberate with her pleasure, as if she does not anticipate ever taking any again, which makes Drace sad. And somewhat bold, though she waits until they are both sated before speaking. "You act as if this is the last time you will take pleasure."
She fingers the rings at her fingers. Two wedding bands, and Drace knows enough of her history to know of her love for her fallen husband. "Not the last, but perhaps the last time it is entirely my choice to take or refuse."
"Will you allow me to speak as I would to my Emperor?"
"You are not shy with your tongue."
She can still taste Mistress Ashe's fluids on her lips. That, and the heat in her gaze, makes Drace blush. "It is not always generous."
"Your Emperor has not yet returned with my captain. If I find what you have to say too harsh, I will give you the chance to gift me with your generosity again."
"You tempt me to be harsh, Mistress." Drace smiles. "But what I wish to say this: duty is not an excuse to deny yourself of all happiness. You may not be free to do everything you wish, but if you think you must choose between your heart and your duty, you have not looked at the problem with a creative enough eye to find a solution that satisfies both."
"I will take your advice to heart." She leans in and kisses Drace. "But feign offense. I ordered Bash to entertain his brother and your Emperor until sundown, so we've still an hour." She settles back, drawing Drace with her, her slim fingers strong on Drace's wrists as she guides Drace's hands to her thighs.
"It is not much time, but I will do my best to beg proper forgiveness." Drace shifts, lowers her head, moans when Mistress Ashe threads her fingers in her hair. Mistress Ashe's short nails scrape along her scalp and make her shudder as she leans in to inhale her mistress's scent, a selfish moment of pleasure before she makes full use of their last hour.
So here's a repost! I'm grabbing them in fandom order from my Porn Battle file. First up is Final Fantasy XII. This is the only FFXII fic I ended up writing, which makes me a little sad because there were a ton of fabulous FFXII prompts, and a few of the ones I didn't get to are still making flirtatious eyes at me.
But I am very happy with this one! It's a happy ending AU specifically geared towards giving Drace (and Gabranth, though offscreen in this story) puppies and rainbows and ice cream with sprinkles! And for Drace, "ice cream with sprinkles" is Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. (Ashe would like you to know she is not the ice cream with sprinkles -- Drace is her ice cream with sprinkles, thank you.)
~2,800 words for the prompt Ashe/Drace, authority, privileges, respect. AU set postgame, no warnings beyond end of game spoilers.
Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca's coronation is a joyous day for all of Dalmasca. It truly feels like a celebration, and Drace feels no shame in appreciating the formality of the ceremony and enjoying Rabanastre's reaction, even if a number of people do shoot them, the Archadian interlopers, dark looks. The fact they are here at Her Majesty's invitation changes little, though Emperor Larsa's humility when he congratulates the newly crowned Queen and offers her Archadia's friendship and respect does seem to touch the crowd.
The resulting celebration is a three day affair. Emperor Larsa does her and Gabranth the courtesy of retiring somewhat early the second night -- two hours past midnight -- but his enthusiasm makes him ready to rejoin the celebrations at first light.
"Queen Ashelia has granted me an audience," he says from his position between her and Gabranth. They should dwarf him, but he has always carried himself with a presence fitting of House Solidor.
She tilts rather than turns her head towards Gabranth. Her helm does not allow her much peripheral vision, and she hears rather than sees Gabranth mirror her movement. It is the closest they can come to exchanging an amused look when their duty is to escort and protect their Emperor.
She has the longer relationship with Larsa. She has no doubt he would welcome a comment from either of them, but she does have the familiarity of years, and Gabranth yields to her. "Starting negotiations already?" She keeps her tone light and teasing. "I am sure there are those in Dalmasca who would beg you to wait."
"I suppose it is a negotiation of sorts." Larsa skips ahead a few steps, and it reminds Drace of just how young he is. He has donned the mantle of leadership perhaps a little too well. It is easy to forget he is still only twelve.
Queen Ashelia is waiting for them in the Great Hall. Her steward announces them, though there is no audience beyond her personal guards and small bevy of attendants. Basch fon Rosenburg stands at her right in the uniform, not the armor, of the Captain of the Dalmascan Knights. He looks so much like Gabranth, even down to his haircut now, short and neat, his sideburns extending down into a neatly-trimmed beard, that Drace finds she must focus on the scar over his left eye.
"It is kind of you to grant me this audience, Your Majesty," Larsa says, bowing to his equal.
"And it is kind of you to offer me Archadia's friendship and respect." Her expression is impassive, but there is a spark of amusement in her eyes. "I would offer you a kindness in return, if you will permit me." She motions to Basch, who steps forward, eyes fixed on Gabranth. "I have it on good authority that a friend of yours is visiting a respected elder in Lowtown. My captain has volunteered to escort you, should you wish to pay your respects in person instead of through paper."
Larsa straightens. "Penelo?" He sounds so eager and happy, and Drace knows Larsa well enough to know his expression matches his tone.
Queen Ashelia laughs, raising a hand to her lips like the sound startled her. "I think she'd like to see you." There's still laughter in her tone, warmth, and the way she looks at Larsa is the way one friend looks at another. It is a hopeful sign. Perhaps there can be more than peace between their nations.
"Yes!" Larsa remembers himself. He clears his throat. "And I was hoping to see your Lowtown. I had come here asking if you would loan me Captain Basch as an escort."
"In place of your own?" Queen Ashelia asks, the delight in her eyes deepening.
"In addition to Gabranth." Larsa hesitates.
He has not shared his plan with her, and Drace knows that is why he hesitates. She steps forward. "It is only polite to offer an exchange. If Her Majesty allows it, I would stand in her captain's place until his return."
The Queen considers. Or pretends to. She does not have an expressive face, but Drace is used to noticing understated displays. Queen Ashelia is happy. She wishes for Larsa to see Penelo, and also wishes for Basch and Gabranth to have a moment together. Their reconciliation is still delicate. If this game will strengthen it, Drace will gladly play a part.
"Your name, Your Honor?" Queen Ashelia asks.
"Drace."
"Drace." She nods. "I've seen other Judge Magisters fight, including your companion, Judge Gabranth. I will be as safe as your hands as I am in my captain's, so it is an acceptable exchange." The corners of her mouth quirk. "Until his return."
Their audience may be small, but it is still an audience. One must play to their expectations. Drace bows, making the motion deliberate and measured so the shift of her armor sounds impressive. "I will protect you as I would my Emperor."
She hears Gabranth sigh behind her, quietly, so only she and Larsa can hear. He will not say they could have just asked him to seek out his brother because then they would have to counter it would need to be an order. And Gabranth is the type to be touched by Larsa's mechanizations. Drace will happily play her part in them.
Queen Ashelia smiles, a calculating and challenging smile that inspires the beginning curl of lust in Drace. Yes, she will happily play her part.
Queen Ashelia dismisses her audience and leads Drace on a tour of the palace. She seems to be using the time to consider what she truly wants. Drace allows it. "I am tempted," Queen Ashelia finally says, "to show you the Garamsythe Waterway, but I fear all entrances are heavily guarded, and my advisors have left word with the guards that they are to ignore my orders for access." She turns to face Drace, her expression half-amused, half-resigned. "It is no longer acceptable for me to hunt sewer rats."
"From what I understand, the rats would offer you no challenge, Your Majesty."
She smiles. "There are other things that would. It is a shame. I would have liked to see you fight."
"If Your Majesty truly wishes it, you need only ask my Emperor. He would arrange for a demonstration." Drace chuckles. "After today, I am sure Judge Gabranth will happily square off against me."
"Is he...fully recovered?"
"I would not wish him to face you or any of your companions again, but yes, he is fully recovered and has resumed his duties with renewed vigor." Indeed, Gabranth is a better man for the fight.
"Good." Queen Ashelia nods. She seems to make up her mind about something, because she nods again, and her expression opens, becomes vulnerable. "I am allowed to participate in my county's celebration, but tomorrow, I must only be Queen Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. So until then, please, call me Ashe."
"My Emperor would have me obey you as if your orders are his."
Queen Ashelia studies her, and though she cannot see Drace's face through her helm, Drace does have the impression she understands something of Drace's expression. "So I must order you?"
"We are both bound by duty." She considers the rest of her reply, then says, "Mine, at the moment, is to respect your wishes, though I admit it will be difficult to address you as Ashe instead of Your Majesty."
"Would ma'am be an acceptable compromise? Or mistress?"
"Mistress." It is a common title in Archadia, a respectful title. Not as respectful as the correct title, but if Queen Ashelia wishes to forget her title for the remainder of the celebration so she can more easily bear her duty when she can, as she says, only be Dalmasca's Queen, mistress is an acceptable substitute.
"Then it will be Mistress Ashe."
Drace inclines her head. "As you wish."
Mistress Ashe swallows. "And if I wish other things?"
"I am yours to command until my Emperor returns with your captain."
The flush that spreads across Mistress Ashe's cheeks is promising. Drace is thankful for her armor, her helm. It means she can consider Mistress Ashe without worrying about schooling her expression. Gabranth has not spoken much about his fights against Mistress Ashe and her companions, but he has praised Mistress Ashe's swordsmanship, and it takes considerable skill to earn his praise.
Mistress Ashe leads Drace to her quarters. They are large, on the topmost level of the castle, and overlook the east end of Rabanastre. The room still smells faintly musty from disuse, though everything is clean, the sheets and curtains crisp, the wood polished and warm. Mistress Ashe crosses to the doors opening to a balcony and draws the curtains tight. She does it to all the curtains, so the room is plunged in a twilight sort of dimness.
Drace stands just inside the door, says nothing.
Mistress Ashe turns from the last window. "Would you remove your helm?" She is already working loose the veil from her crown.
"If you order it."
Mistress Ashe smiles. "I forgot. You are mine to command."
"Until my Emperor returns with your captain."
"Yes." Her smile widens. "Remove your helm."
Drace obeys. It does make her feel exposed. Since her promotion to Judge Magister, few outside of the members of House Solidor and her fellow Judge Magisters have seen her face. But she is to obey Mistress Ashe as she would her Emperor, and while Larsa would not ask for her sexual service, orders are orders, and Mistress Ashe is the type of woman Drace would gladly give herself to. So if Mistress Ashe's orders turn sexual, as Drace suspects they will, there will be no conflict between them and her desires.
Mistress Ashe sets her veil down on the vanity and strides towards Drace. She spends a moment studying Drace's face, her admiration plan on her face. "Of course you're a Judge Magister." She reaches up and threads her fingers through Drace's hair, cut short for ease. It is, Drace knows, flat and sweat-slicked from her helm. Dalmasca's climate is warmer than what she is used to. "You have a strong face."
"You are too kind, Mistress."
She holds out her hand for Drace's helm. Drace hands it over willingly, reminding herself once again that she is Mistress Ashe's to command. It is more for the thrill of acknowledgement than a warning to hold herself back. She is curious what Mistress Ashe will do with her.
Mistress Ashe moves behind her. Drace watches her out of the corner of her eye. There is an armor stand by the door. Of course. These were likely King Raminas's quarters before they became Mistress Ashe's.
She sets the helm on the stand and comes back in front of Drace, reaching up to trace the neck of the armor with her fingers, then runs her hands down the chest plate. "Will you permit me to remove your armor?"
"If that is your command."
"I am uncertain of the etiquette."
This would not happen in Archadia. But they are not in Archadia, and Drace...she is curious. "Let us agree to this etiquette, then: if you would ask it of your captain, you may ask it of me."
"My captain," she says, pressing her palm flat against Drace's chest plate, "would balk at me undressing him in my quarters."
"Is it your right as his --" Queen is on the tip of her tongue, but Drace catches herself, remembers Mistress Ashe's desire to shed her proper title for this day, "Mistress?"
Mistress Ashe meets her eyes. Drace fills her own with heat, her willingness. Dalmasca is much like Archadia, like every nation, in the respect that it demands much of its nobility. It keeps people from speaking their true thoughts and feelings, but there are other means to communicate them, and people in their positions quickly learn how to spot the expression of the thoughts and feelings one cannot voice.
"Yes, it is," Mistress Ashe says, sliding her hands back to the catches of Drace's armor. "You will permit me the honor of removing your armor, Judge Drace."
"Yes, Mistress." Her throat is tight. Judges are a special class. There are reasons why each Judge Magister has his or her own unique armor, why they only claim the title in full armor, why only Lords of House Solidor can demand they remove their helms and show their face. But not even Lords of House Solidor can demand this of them.
And for all that Mistress Ashe says she is uncertain of the etiquette, she seems to understand how intimate this is for Drace. Her expression is grave, her touch sure, and she makes a point to be open with her admiration so it is clear she has not demanded this to strip Drace of her power. She is celebrating Drace's power. And she is also celebrating her power because it is her right as Drace's current Mistress to share this with her.
Drace wears simple garments beneath her armor, her tunic and leggings made from wyrdhare wool, valued for its wicking properties. Mistress Ashe reaches out and fingers the collar of her tunic, the only part dyed Imperial colors. "If all of her servants are like you, it is no wonder Archadia is such a mighty empire." There is only a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"Archadia looks to the future, just as I hope Dalmasca does. Or will come the morning. It seems the focus of a celebration should be on..." She does not have the familiarity of years with Mistress Ashe. Would she overstep her place if she said what she wished? Well, this is only until Emperor Larsa's return. It is worth the risk. "Pleasure."
Mistress Ashe laughs. "Is this how you address your Emperor?"
"In theory. I have been at his side for all of his twelve years, and in private, he demands a certain degree of frankness. However, like your captain, there are things he would balk at."
"You've no need to defend his honor. I know he is not the kind of man who abuses his position."
"If you are seeking reassurance, Mistress, I have experienced no abuse at your hand thus far."
"Thus far?" She raises an eyebrow.
Drace answers with a smirk of her own. "I do not anticipate any abuse, but I've no fortune-telling gambits equipped."
"So I may yet surprise you?"
"Not on this front. My Emperor would not trust me to you if you were the type to abuse your position. But you may in other areas." She kneels, a knight before her sovereign. "If that is your wish."
Mistress Ashe takes her to her bed. She is deliberate with her pleasure, as if she does not anticipate ever taking any again, which makes Drace sad. And somewhat bold, though she waits until they are both sated before speaking. "You act as if this is the last time you will take pleasure."
She fingers the rings at her fingers. Two wedding bands, and Drace knows enough of her history to know of her love for her fallen husband. "Not the last, but perhaps the last time it is entirely my choice to take or refuse."
"Will you allow me to speak as I would to my Emperor?"
"You are not shy with your tongue."
She can still taste Mistress Ashe's fluids on her lips. That, and the heat in her gaze, makes Drace blush. "It is not always generous."
"Your Emperor has not yet returned with my captain. If I find what you have to say too harsh, I will give you the chance to gift me with your generosity again."
"You tempt me to be harsh, Mistress." Drace smiles. "But what I wish to say this: duty is not an excuse to deny yourself of all happiness. You may not be free to do everything you wish, but if you think you must choose between your heart and your duty, you have not looked at the problem with a creative enough eye to find a solution that satisfies both."
"I will take your advice to heart." She leans in and kisses Drace. "But feign offense. I ordered Bash to entertain his brother and your Emperor until sundown, so we've still an hour." She settles back, drawing Drace with her, her slim fingers strong on Drace's wrists as she guides Drace's hands to her thighs.
"It is not much time, but I will do my best to beg proper forgiveness." Drace shifts, lowers her head, moans when Mistress Ashe threads her fingers in her hair. Mistress Ashe's short nails scrape along her scalp and make her shudder as she leans in to inhale her mistress's scent, a selfish moment of pleasure before she makes full use of their last hour.
