Death's Abyss

by S D Simper

  Tallora giggled, the hints of the asshole she loved peeking through in her safe moments. “Tell me more. You were obsessed with me?”

  “I still am.” Dauriel’s cheeks colored red, and it certainly wasn’t for chill. She released Tallora, who held her hand instead and tugged her along. “I simply try to keep it contained, otherwise I’d never stop ravishing you.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t you?” Tallora grinned, overjoyed when Dauriel matched it. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

  “Certainly. You get to say ‘yes.’”

  Tallora swatted her lightly on the chest, enamored at her flirtatious words. By Staella’s Grace—it felt so delightful to laugh. “I have a question,” she said, her curiosity peaked, and Dauriel’s mood stable for the moment. “And don’t be self-conscious; I’m not casting judgement. But I genuinely want to know—what in the world were you doing to that girl? The one you were naked with when I walked in.”

  Dauriel’s blush grew fierce, and Tallora feared she’d misjudged her love’s temperament. When she finally spoke, it held boundless hesitation. “You wouldn’t know, would you.”

  “Know what?”

  “When I had sex with you as a mermaid,” Dauriel began slowly, “it occurred to me that your anatomy limits the sort of sex positions you can do. And acts, for that matter.”

  Tallora couldn’t say she understood where Dauriel was going with that, but she’d be damned before she admitted naivety.

  “Women here will sometimes, um, wear devices that allow them to penetrate their lovers the way a man can.”

  Tallora’s brow furrowed as she tried to unravel that bit of trivia. “So you were wearing a—”

  “It’s called a strap. It’s a bit different than what you’re thinking.” Dauriel’s blush hadn’t faded, but an amused grin pulled at her lips. “I don’t feel it the same way, though I hear there are spells for that. I get off on the power, and she gets off on me aggressively fucking her into the pillow. Sometimes that’s all I need too.”

  Her lurid wink brought heat to Tallora’s face, even if she still didn’t quite understand. “So you wear a ‘strap’ and use it to have sex with women. That makes some sense.” She frowned, struggling to articulate the bit that simply did not make sense. “But you were behind her.”

  Dauriel stared like she was still waiting for the question. Tallora pursed her lips, unsure of how to quite articulate the issue, when Dauriel suddenly snorted into laughter. “Never mind. I see.”

  “What do you see—”

  Dauriel grabbed her, aggressive as she pressed Tallora’s back against her chest. Her hands slid down Tallora’s side and to her hips, where she kept her grip and whispered, voice dripping with lust, “Bend over.”

  Weak at her words, Tallora obeyed, bending as far as she could without toppling over. Dauriel’s hips ground into hers, the friction sending unexpected jolts of pleasure through her body. Her gloved hand slid against the warm juncture between her legs. Tallora gasped when she pushed against her entrance, her winter dress between them. “There are advantages to being able to spread your legs.”

  “Point taken,” Tallora said, breathless as Dauriel continued rubbing her hand against her entrance. “Looking to demonstrate?

  “Oh, that it weren’t winter. I’d take you right here.” Dauriel removed her hand, letting it slide teasingly before helping Tallora right herself.

  With her back to Dauriel’s chest, Tallora gazed up at her, her head spinning from the touch. “You are insatiable,” she teased, sighing when Dauriel touched her lips to her ear.

  “Simply obsessed, remember?”

  Tallora turned over in her arms, pressing their lips together as they kissed with open mouths. When she finally pulled away, Dauriel’s grin illuminated her countenance. “Look at you—smiling again.”

  “It’s easier to pretend all is well when there’s a gorgeous woman in front of me.”

  “That’s the cure then? Anytime you’re slipping, I just let you ravish me? I can accept those terms.” She grinned, but Dauriel’s smile faltered.

  “You owe me nothing. I know I’m always teasing, but you can always say no if . . .” Her voice faded when Tallora pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I know that. But I decided I trusted you long ago. I was your prisoner once, remember? You could have done anything you liked.” She placed a kiss on the corner of Dauriel’s mouth. “Besides, I’ve never lied to you. Why would I start now?”

  “To protect my fragile ego?”

  Tallora kissed her lips. “I love your ego, fragile or not,” she whispered against her mouth. When Dauriel’s shy smile returned, Tallora pulled away, stealing her hand instead. “So, do we tell people we’re back in bed together? I’ll be honest—I don’t know what to tell Kal and King Merl.”

  “I don’t owe my council anything.” Dauriel looked to the castle, to the high towers and then the sky. “Though the news will either make Khastra worry more or less. No in between.”

  “She asked me to leave you alone, initially.” When Dauriel frowned, Tallora added, “Not out of malice. She asked me to simply ignore you rather than be unkind. I think it would give her peace of mind to know, honestly.”

  A pained groan escaped Dauriel’s mouth. “Fine. Let’s get it over with then.”

  But nobody knew where Khastra was. Not the servants nor the guards—and not Dauriel’s father, either. “She has a workshop you might check,” he said, when they found him in the hallway, his own suspicious gaze sparing their intertwined fingers a second glance. “That, or her bedroom.”

  “Khastra uses her bedroom for sleep, and that’s about it,” Dauriel said, once he’d left. Still, she led Tallora through the halls, until they reached a larger than typical door.

  Dauriel knocked. Tallora heard absolutely nothing. “Does she have a suite as well?” she whispered, and Dauriel nodded.

  The empress tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She knocked again. “Khastra?” She looked to Tallora. “At the very least, we can find her at dinner—”

  The doorknob twisted. Khastra’s face appeared in the crack, opened only enough to reveal her horns and blue skin, slightly flushed with a hint of purple upon her defined cheeks. “Dauriel?”

  Tallora glanced down Khastra’s body, realizing she wore . . . a robe?

  Dauriel looked equally confused as she composed herself. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Exactly one.”

  “There’s something you need to know, and I wanted to make certain you heard it from me. Tallora and I, we’re . . .” Dauriel took Tallora’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “We’ve set aside our feud.”

  “Oh.” Khastra’s expression softened as she leaned against the doorframe. “Not what I expected, but I am happy for you both.”

  Tallora looked to Dauriel and smiled. “I don’t plan on leaving her side,” she said, hoping Khastra caught the layered meaning.

  “You have forty seconds left,” Khastra said, then she looked back to whatever the door blocked. “Anything else?”

  “No. See you at dinner?”

  “You will not.” Khastra shut the door.

  Tallora looked to Dauriel, noting her confusion. “What the hell is she doing?”

  Holding a finger to her lip, Dauriel pressed her ear to the doorframe. She lingered a moment, visibly straining to listen. When she finally pulled back, she whispered, “I hear muffled voices. Can’t decipher a thing.”

  “So there’s someone else in there?”

  Dauriel furrowed her eyebrows as she nodded. “That’s odd.”

  “Someone she didn’t introduce us to and didn’t want to leave for long? Did you see what she was wearing, Dauriel?”

  Dauriel’s expression remained the same as she stared at the door. “Very odd.”

  “I just want to know who.”

  “Me too.” She took Tallora’s hand once more. “Though she’ll likely never tell. If I know anything about her, it’s that she’s secretive when it come
s to her personal life.”

  “Even to you?”

  “I’m used to it.” Dauriel led her away, placing a small kiss upon her cheek. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to take dinner alone. Does that sound agreeable?”

  Tallora grinned as she nodded, letting Dauriel lead her away.

  * * *

  They feasted in Dauriel’s bedroom, a dinner of a roasted bird Tallora didn’t recognize. It was delicious and light, but the better part was sitting with Dauriel in her room, both half-undressed from their winter clothing. Domestic bliss, Tallora decided, and it felt marvelous to eat her dessert seated upon Dauriel’s lap and feel those lithe arms around her.

  But Dauriel seemed less peaceful, here alone. She didn’t drink, at least. Her smile frayed at the edges, unraveling entirely when she thought Tallora wasn’t looking. When Tallora straddled her, Dauriel responded, but when Tallora looked into her eyes, their light had faded.

  “Dauriel,” she whispered against her empress’ lips. She placed a lingering kiss at the corner of Dauriel’s mouth, then another at her cheek before leaning back. “We don’t have to continue.” She brushed the lengthening strands of Dauriel’s hair from her face.

  Dauriel’s hands settled at Tallora’s waist, her thumb stroking lines along the fabric. “It feels like I’m wasting time if I don’t.”

  “Spending innocent time with me is wasting it?” Tallora smiled gently, hoping it conveyed that she was teasing. “We’ve never had time to simply be.”

  “And we won’t.” Dauriel captured her mouth once more, her hands skimming the buttons of Tallora’s dress, but Tallora gently extracted them and pulled away, interlacing their fingers instead.

  The words jarred their future forward, but Tallora swallowed her grief. “I want you to hold me,” she whispered. “You’re welcome to hold me naked if you’d prefer, but I only want to be held.”

  With a smile as soft as the waning sunset, Dauriel stood, then lifted Tallora into her arms, cradling her as she took them to bed. “I can’t be silent,” she said, her expression quickly falling. “My thoughts are unbearably loud.”

  Tallora settled against the pillows and plush sheets, pulling Dauriel down against her. “Do you need to talk about it?”

  Dauriel shook her head. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Something else? Hmm . . .” Tallora kissed the top of her head, acutely aware of how Dauriel clung to her. “Your hair is getting longer.”

  “I’m tempted to shave it off.”

  “Oh, don’t do that. There would be nothing for me to play with.” Her fingers gently caressed the dark strands. “I’ll cut it for you, if you’d like.”

  Dauriel’s smile, however slight, was the most beautiful sight in the world. “I’d like that.”

  “Next time we bathe, remind me. I think it’ll ease your stress, at least a little.”

  “I have to look good for my funeral,” Dauriel replied, her wink unsettling Tallora’s resolve, “assuming there’s anything left of me.”

  Tallora shook her head, her grip tightening around Dauriel’s form. “Please don’t talk like that,” she whispered. “I don’t want to think about the future; I simply want to live for tonight.”

  Dauriel’s face settled against Tallora’s neck. “I’m still baffled you want to spend time with me at all, but I’ve accepted it.”

  “Good.” Upon her back, Dauriel gripped her dress, a quiet desperation in the gesture. Tallora kept speaking, knowing the silence so quickly became daunting. “I don’t know if I’ve spoken much of home. Or, rather . . ” Her words filtered away, sadness filling her. The world was turned upside-down, and she had nearly forgotten. “. . . what’s left of it.”

  “Memorialize it,” Dauriel replied. She leaned up enough to meet Tallora’s eye. “Tell me everything I don’t know.”

  Tallora spoke, memories of her childhood and youth filling the somber room, bringing joy. Dauriel listened intently, the dullness in her eyes remaining, but she smiled as appropriate; she asked questions when needed.

  Hours filtered by before her empress’ eyes glazed over. Tallora bid her to sleep, though she still whispered stories for Dauriel to cling to.

  It scared her so, to truly contemplate her empress’ words, the illness in her mind. Tallora had been thrown into the trenches of a war she willingly chose to fight. She wondered if something so juvenile as ‘love’ might be of aid—perhaps not a cure, but something to soothe the worst of it.

  Dauriel’s breathing became steady and deep. Tallora held her, longing for the days when they’d bantered while she was in chains, as fucked up as that sounded. Life had been simpler. Life had seemed endless.

  Dauriel might survive, and Tallora clung to that. There was still the possibility that Dauriel lived on, her legacy secured and so perhaps she’d be content. Perhaps not—Solviran ambition was limitless. But Dauriel’s future was set in stone, either as a martyr or a legend.

  It was Tallora’s future that had been erased like the sands of the sea, an empty void of possibility, all of life in disarray. All she’d thought she’d known was gone. She shut her eyes, basking in the scent of her love’s hair, and asked herself again . . . what it was she truly wanted.

  “I would have made you my empress.”

  Tears welled in Tallora’s eyes. The thought was impossible, yet it evoked so powerful a want that she fought an immediate sob. There was so little time.

  Who was she to deny herself a moment of it?

  She gently jostled Dauriel’s arm, heard a confused groan escape the empress’ mouth. “Tallora?” she mumbled, her sleepy eyes blinking into wakefulness.

  “Marry me.” She laughed at Dauriel’s confusion, visibly processing the words. “Marry me, Dauriel.”

  “You’d marry a dead woman?”

  “Don’t you dare rescind your offer now,” Tallora teased, joy and pain and other virulent emotions welling within her. “I’m saying yes. Marry me.”

  Dauriel nodded slowly, still noticeably sleepy, but a smile did cross her lips when Tallora kissed her. “When?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Dauriel’s silver eyes finally seemed to focus, her stare as mesmerizing as the glittering stars beyond. “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Tallora laughed when Dauriel nodded. “You mean it? By Staella’s Grace—yes!”

  “Get dressed,” Dauriel said softly, visibly enamored at Tallora’s enthusiasm, and oh, she loved it so.

  She pulled on her boots, then ran to the mirror to smooth her dress, the thick fabric hopefully sturdy enough to protect her from the midnight chill—or whatever time it was. She primped her hair, quickly running a brush through the locks, as white as a wedding veil, when Dauriel approached, carrying a silver, embroidered scarf. She draped it over Tallora’s shoulders, her smile unfathomably soft.

  It glittered when Tallora swayed, as magnificent as the night sky. “This was given to me when I was twelve—my mother told me I’d wear it before my husband on our wedding day. Consequentially, I resolved to never touch it.” Dauriel placed a lingering kiss on Tallora’s cheek, watching her in the mirror’s reflection. “Suits you much better. It’ll keep you warm.”

  When she pulled back, Tallora realized she had changed into a black ensemble, her crown polished, boots shined, cape draped and billowing from her shoulders—and by every god, she looked gorgeous. When Dauriel offered a gloved hand, she intertwined their fingers.

  At first they walked, but soon they ran, their laughter spurring them onward. “Where are we going?” Tallora asked, once they stepped on the lift.

  “To the temple, of course. It defies every tradition, but fuck it.”

  Tallora kissed her, capturing her lips until the lift stopped at the first floor.

  They passed a few servants, but no one questioned their empress, even if her smile had become a rarity. The bitter cold nipped at Tallora’s skin, but she pulled the scarf tight around her, surprised to find the thin fabric blocked the chill
with ease. Suspecting an enchantment, she said nothing, simply let Dauriel lead, following suit as she nodded a farewell to the guards.

  The moon shone high above. At the midnight hour, the city leisurely moved along, lanterns lighting the streets. Snow collected in the dark alleys, but Tallora saw men with shovels keeping it at bay. Those who recognized Dauriel quickly stopped and bowed, but so many simply passed them by, oblivious to the monarch in their presence.

  Dauriel paid it no mind. Instead, she released Tallora’s hand, only to settle upon her waist instead. She pulled her close, as close as they could be in the winter’s chill. When they matched eyes, Dauriel’s glistened.

  They did not go to the Temple of Unity. Instead, Dauriel took a different path, through a quieter sector of the city.

  A small church came into view, bearing stained glass and a single lantern lighting the front door. “What do those words say?” Tallora asked, pointing to the carvings above the door.

  “For Whom the Stars Shine,” Dauriel said. “This is a temple of Staella.”

  Tallora noted the stars within the abstract glass pattern. “I take it this isn’t typical?”

  “Not at all. But who better to bless our union than the goddess who chose to let us live?”

  Tallora kissed her then and there upon the steps of the chapel, truly touched by the thought.

  When Dauriel opened the unlocked door, Tallora saw rows of benches lit by dim candlelight. Flickering shadows revealed paintings and stone depictions of her beloved goddess, and she resolved to return and see it in the light.

  A door opened behind the altar; an old woman entered holding a lantern, her clothing clearly a nightgown. “Can I help you?” she asked, though not unkindly. The temple was never locked, it seemed.

  “Yes,” Dauriel said, quickly approaching. When she neared, realization flashed in the priestess’ face. She bowed, her grey hair sweeping in front of her face. “We need a wedding ceremony.”

  The priestess glanced from Dauriel to Tallora, eyes widening. “Right now?”

  “Correct.”