Death's Abyss

by S D Simper

  “It just infuriates me, that anyone could bastardize Staella’s worship.” The coldness in her limbs fell prey to pulsing heat instead, her fury simmering.

  “In their defense, they think the same thing about you. Indoctrination runs deep. It isn’t something you unlearn overnight—some people never do, even when faced with proof.”

  Tallora hated that, couldn’t fathom it at all.

  “I have to leave,” Leah said softly. “Mocum’s tutoring is only an hour long, but can I see you again?”

  “In two days—” Tallora swallowed that bitter truth. “—I’ll be left alone for a while. Come to the palace anytime.”

  They embraced. Leah left her, but Tallora felt peace upon her exit. She shut her eyes, settling back into the pew. Thank you.

  Within her soul, she felt warmth return. Perhaps she’d linger a little longer.

  Tallora stayed for a long time, cherishing the peace of the temple. But there was somewhere else she was supposed to be. Long after her tears dried, she left the temple, realizing it would be sunset within the hour.

  The unfortunate drawback of sleeping the morning away—she’d lost so much of a precious day.

  As she walked the streets, she noticed the cityfolk were hustling more than normal—and actively leaving the marketplaces. Guards directed them, pushing them along. “You’re all to return to your homes!” one cried, his decorated armor suggesting he might be in charge. “Executive order! The streets are to be cleared!”

  She pushed her way toward one of the guards. “What’s going on?”

  “The city is under lockdown, my lady. You must return to your home.”

  “But why?”

  “Empress’ orders. We weren’t told the details.”

  Tallora looked past him to the castle. She gave a brief nod, fortunately not stopped as she stepped past him, making her way toward home.

  Her mind couldn’t fathom this stroke of madness—were they under attack? Had the general condoned this? She hustled through the emptying streets, fighting against the current of people as she pushed her way through.

  She had nearly reached the gates when she heard, “Stop!” From behind, a guard rapidly approached. “All citizens are to return to their homes.”

  “I—”

  “Are you a servant in the palace, my lady?”

  “No, but I’m—”

  The guard grabbed her arm. She failed to wrench it away. “Then you cannot be here—”

  “Stand down!”

  They both turned, and Tallora recognized the pair of approaching guards—the duo at the front gate. The guard released her, visibly confused.

  “She’s the one they’re looking for,” one of the men said. “Tallora of the Tortalgan Sea, yes?”

  Tallora swiftly nodded. “What’s going on?”

  “The city has been put under lockdown to find you. With due respect, your majesty, you’ll be coming with us.”

  She nodded slowly, the words unsettling.

  She was taken to the palace, the guards at the gate stopping their patrol and looking relieved to see her.

  Tallora pulled the veil tight around her shoulders as the guards escorted her to the lift. She looked out the window to the empty streets, her heart palpitating. “Why though?” she finally dared to ask.

  “Begging your pardon, your majesty,” one guard replied—it seemed news of her new station had gotten out—“but you were missing for hours, and when a monarch is missing for hours, it’s generally considered an emergency. While I won’t put words in her mouth, Empress Dauriel seemed to believe you might be gone for good.”

  Tallora’s heart sank. When the lift stopped, they faced the entrance to the throne room. She ran forward, the guards quickly following, and entered the expansive hallway.

  As she traversed the narrow entry hall, she heard a ranting figure from the center, her heart sinking when she knew the voice. “. . . if the streets are empty, search the citizen’s homes. If anyone is holding her, they’ll face my wrath. The merfolk claimed to know nothing, but—”

  Tallora locked eyes with Dauriel, who paced before her throne. Most of her council stood around her, though Khastra and Priestess Toria were missing, and a small plethora of guards flanked her. But Dauriel’s face held too many emotions for Tallora to decipher only one. “Where in Onias’ Hell were you?!”

  Dauriel rapidly approached. Taken aback, Tallora said, “I was at Staella’s temple.”

  “You told no one!”

  Tallora’s pride bristled. “Did I commit a crime?”

  Dauriel stopped a few feet away. Behind her fury, her jaw trembled; her eyes filled with tears.

  Oh, Dauriel.

  Tallora stepped forward, ignoring Dauriel’s furious words of, “You’re royalty! You can’t simply go off gallivanting! You could have been killed—” and instead pulled her into an embrace.

  Her cloak fell to the floor as she wrapped both arms tight around her empress, feeling the woman nearly collapse. “Call off the search,” Tallora whispered. “We’ll talk in private.”

  “Call off the search!” Dauriel barked, her composure quickly unraveling. “And get out! All of you!”

  Her hold on Tallora tightened as the guards and the council left, leaving them alone. Dauriel took a breath to speak, but Tallora spoke faster. “I’m sorry.”

  Whatever Dauriel’s words, they died in her throat. Her silver eyes watered as she stared at Tallora, still wrapped in her embrace.

  “I should have told someone I was going. I didn’t think of it because anyone I might’ve told was in the council chamber with you. But this is my fault, and I’m sorry I scared you.”

  Dauriel’s lip trembled, a tragic whimper leaving her lips. Her tears streamed down her face. “After everything we talked about, I-I thought . . .”

  Tallora gently interrupted her failing words. “You thought I was running away?”

  “It was one of the many gods-awful thoughts in my head.” Dauriel’s face fell against Tallora’s shoulder, where she wept. Tallora clung to her, content to be her lifeline in the storm.

  “You’re my wife, you dramatic, beautiful bitch,” Tallora said softly, no ire in the words. “Tensions are high. But I love you so much.”

  Dauriel nodded against her shoulder, still crying. “I’m sorry,” her empress said, and Tallora ran her fingers through her short hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  Tallora said nothing, merely continued with her soothing gestures.

  They stood in silence, save for Dauriel’s sobs. When they finally stilled, Tallora whispered, “Let me take you to bed.”

  Dauriel nodded, her face swollen and raw when she finally looked up. Fingers intertwined, they left the throne room, taking the lift down until they reached the proper floor.

  Tallora escorted her to her bedroom, and once alone she placed successive kisses upon Dauriel’s tear-streaked cheeks. “Oh, my wife,” she whispered, and she clung to Dauriel in the dark room, then gently pulled her to the window and the balcony beyond.

  With the falling night came a sea of stars, twinkling in the sky with all the brilliance of their goddess’ glory. Dauriel stared out, to the meeting of sky and land, surveying the great kingdom she owned.

  Tallora joined her, light-headed to think it was hers too. Her chest threatened to cave, but she asked a crippling inquiry all the same. “What will happen to me,” she whispered, “when you die in your goddess’ name?”

  “You aren’t of Ilune’s blood and so will forfeit the right to rule,” Dauriel said, her tone void of emotion. “But you will still hold influence among the court, should you wish to stay. You would be the first in line to take an advisory position to the new monarch. Or, you may return home and retire, supported all your life by the crown’s treasury.”

  “I’d go home,” Tallora admitted. “To what’s left of it. They’ll need all the aid they can get rebuilding.”

  “Solvira will help. My father has been instructed of that, and he will respect
my wishes.”

  Tallora looked to Dauriel and saw nothing decipherable in her countenance. “What happened in your council meeting?”

  “It largely devolved into me being reprimanded for acting rash in taking you as my wife.” Dauriel’s lip sneered, jaw steeling. “Because even though I could not have produced an heir, I could have married for diplomatic gain or money or even a treaty and simply kept you as a mistress, as all the Solviraes have done. Adrael and Rel were quite adamant about that, and my father begrudgingly agreed.” Dauriel breathed, and Tallora realized she was slowly becoming accustomed to the presence of smoke. “But we did also discuss your people and Yu’Khrall. Kal and Merl have yet to be informed of their release—I was thinking tomorrow morning would be most appropriate now, given the hour.”

  “Did I mishear you, or did you say you’d interrogated them about my disappearance?”

  Dauriel’s stare fell to the balcony. She said nothing at all; she merely nodded.

  Tallora wrapped her arms around her empress, taking a deep inhale of the night air. “Dauriel, I love all of you. Even the ugly parts. Even the things you hate. Just because my life might’ve been easier with Kal doesn’t mean it would have brought me joy. You’re worth it. And even if it’s for only a few more days, I will never regret marrying you.”

  Dauriel remained limp, but she’d heard. Her trembling jaw revealed that much.

  “I hurt when you’re hurting, but your glowing moments have always made everything worth it. You’re a mess, but I knew that. You’ve hurt me before, yes, but you’re trying to be better. I’ve seen it.” She placed a kiss in Dauriel’s hair, lingering as she held her tight. She stole one of Dauriel’s wrists, her thumb brushing a jagged scar. “Your worst enemy is in the mirror, and she might scream that I hate you until the day you die. But it’s a lie, Dauriel. It’s a lie, and I’m begging you to not listen. I swear to you, as your wife who loves you, that I’ll remind you of that whenever you need it.”

  Dauriel didn’t cry, though she visibly fought it as she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Tallora whispered, “What do you need?”

  “I don’t know,” Dauriel immediately replied, but Tallora shook her head as she again placed a kiss in Dauriel’s hair.

  “I need you to be introspective for a moment. How do you feel? And what do you need?”

  Dauriel, again, faded into silence, but her stare returned to the sky. An arm wrapped around Tallora’s waist. “I feel like a fool,” Dauriel whispered, her grip growing ever tighter, slowly by degrees. “But it’s like you said—I need reassurance.”

  “I don’t think you’re foolish.” Tallora coaxed Dauriel’s face to meet her stare, smiling tenderly as she stroked a soft line across her cheeks. Then, she brought their mouths together, kissing her beneath the starry sky. She quickly let it deepen, slipping her tongue into Dauriel’s mouth, gratified when the woman moaned. Heat simmered between Tallora’s thighs, but she couldn’t speak for her love, didn’t wish to push her for more unless she craved it too.

  Dauriel’s hand came up to her hair, stroked it as they kissed before the city’s judgement. Her other went to Tallora’s waist, gripping her dress as she pressed their bodies closer.

  Tallora whispered, “I’m yours, Dauriel. I love you with all my heart. You have my full permission to touch me if that’s the reassurance you need.”

  Apparently she had spoken true; Dauriel’s hand left her waist and skimmed down her skirt. When she groped her, Tallora giggled, overjoyed when Dauriel smiled. “Predictable as ever,” Tallora said, though she whined to punctuate it. Dauriel should know how desperately she was wanted. “We do still need to consummate our union.”

  “I have a thought,” Dauriel replied, her voice low and wanting, “but let me touch you first.”

  Tallora grinned, Dauriel’s warmth enough to stave off the cold night. Her lips skimmed Tallora’s neck, placing slow kisses as she leisurely undid the buttons of her dress, letting it fall enough to untie her corset strings. Dauriel never broke pace with her kisses, clearly well practiced, and Tallora thought it terribly amusing.

  When it fell away, she tossed it aside, and then the condemning vestment with it. Tallora stood half-dressed on the balcony, and Dauriel wasted no time squeezing her breasts. The fabric of Tallora’s chemise shifted at Dauriel’s touch, who held no reserve in pulling it down enough to expose her breasts to the night air.

  Tallora groaned at the contact. The cold air juxtaposed cruelly with Dauriel’s warm hands. When Dauriel took her breast in her mouth, Tallora nearly fell off the balcony when her knees failed her.

  Fortunately, Dauriel held her, her strong arms a pleasure. Tallora looked up, half-dipped by her empress’ touch, and gazed at the sky, sending her pleasured moans up to the stars.

  Which was a rather awkward thought, considering she worshipped them, but Tallora sang praises to only one goddess this night.

  Dauriel’s hand lifted her skirts, touching the soft skin and fabric beneath. When her finger skimmed Tallora’s thigh, she grinned, content to hold Dauriel against her breast still. “Oh, Empress,” she sighed, then squeaked when said empress suddenly squeezed her ass. “Empress?”

  Dauriel’s mouth left her breast, the challenge in her eye enough to compensate for the sudden lack of contact. “Yes, wife?”

  Heat flooded Tallora’s face at the title. She crushed their mouths together, savoring Dauriel’s hand on her ass, giggling when it stroked down to the warmth between her legs. The light touch brought a shiver down her spine as she helped slip her underclothes to the ground; Dauriel then hitched her thigh over her hip and touched lightly against her clit.

  Tallora’s whine punctuated the silent night. Dauriel’s arm was all that supported her—and so when she was gently led down, her back touched the edge of the balcony.

  Dauriel’s pushed inside. Tallora gasped, eyes opening at the unexpected entrance. She smiled as she moaned, savoring the touch and the crass delight in her wife’s eyes. “Dauriel, my empress . . .”

  Her empress moved slowly, more stretching than thrusting, and Tallora loved it so, the connection to her love. Dauriel knelt before her, both of them nearly on the ground now.

  The minutes passed slowly by, and Tallora’s body stayed in absolute bliss at the gentle, tender motions. She mourned the withdrawal, when Dauriel suddenly pulled away. Her hand emerged from Tallora’s skirts. “It’s freezing. Let’s go inside.”

  Boneless, Tallora couldn’t articulate a coherent reply; simply a mild, “Uh-huh,” as Dauriel led her back into their bedroom.

  She collapsed onto the bed, grinning like a fool as Dauriel lit a candle on the bedside table, illuminating Tallora’s half-naked form. Her empress’s eyes luxuriated over her as she said, “Wait here. Touch yourself; you might as well enjoy those tits of yours too.” Dauriel’s wink was nothing less than obscene, and oh Tallora loved it so.

  She left Tallora wanting and waiting in the warm bed. With no shyness, Tallora removed her dress and all her underclothes, purposefully laying to reveal her cunt. Despite the clinging chill of outside, her body pulsed with heat; she touched herself gleefully, praying Dauriel returned quickly to enjoy the show.

  She thought of Dauriel, a few suspicions rising as she waited, until the empress peeked her head out, pupils widening as she gazed at Tallora’s body.

  “I was waiting for you, Empress,” Tallora said, breathless and desperate for her wife’s touch.

  Dauriel had kept her shirt but removed her trousers, instead emerging wearing what Tallora could only presume was the ‘strap.’ Strips of fabric were tightened around her ass, and the protrusion from between her legs seemed to be made of hardened leather. “You look beautiful,” Dauriel said, and Tallora’s blush reached as far as her toes. She stepped forward, her expression somewhere between enamor and ravage. “This is your first time, so I want you to be in control. You’re going to, uh . . .” Dauriel’s blush darkened her cheeks as she crawled into bed. “. . . sit on it
.”

  Everything uplanders did was strange, and this was no exception. Tallora bit her lip at the admittedly large leather piece and nodded skeptically. “And it’s going to fit?”

  “I have a smaller one if it doesn’t.” A sheepish grin stole Dauriel’s confidence. “This just isn’t one I’ve used before yet, and I don’t feel quite right, um . . . Well I haven’t used it with the courtesans, I mean—”

  “Oh, hush,” Tallora said, purposeful as her hand slid down to her vulva. She caressed the edges, then parted the folds to reveal her entrance. “I want to do what you did with that whore. That’s what’s been in my head.”

  Dauriel’s eyes followed her hand, pupils wide and starving. “If you insist. Hands and knees.”

  Tallora giggled and obeyed, her body in agony as excitement pulsed through her blood. As Dauriel knelt behind her, she shook her hips in the air, grinning when her wife gripped her ass, groping her shamelessly.

  Yet the entire mood shifted when Dauriel’s hand touched the lips of her vulva. “You’ll tell me if anything hurts, all right?” She stroked against the seeping wetness from within, then brought their hips together—

  Tallora gasped, pained and yet wonderful as Dauriel slowly pushed inside her. Oh, she’d never felt so full, and when hands grabbed her hips, she managed a breathy, “Yes.”

  Dauriel pushed inside her once more, the motions steady as Tallora’s body adjusted to the intrusion. Mouth slack, she turned her head back, nearly finishing from merely the lurid desire in Dauriel’s eye. She shut her eyes, content to bask in the sensation as Dauriel continued thrusting, her motions ever increasing. Pleasure jolted through Tallora, the contact of their hips as glorious as anything she’d ever felt. “Oh, Empress,” she whined, her mind quickly unraveling as Dauriel claimed her.

  Her breasts bounced with each thrust. Behind her, she heard Dauriel’s own faint groans of pleasure. Tallora let her cries fly freely, knowing her love adored hearing it. She wondered idly if she sounded better than the whores, and somehow didn’t care.

  Each thrust welled heat within her. From behind, she heard a breathless, “Fuck,” and loved it so. Dauriel’s groans were wonderful to hear. When Tallora looked back, everything in her countenance bespoke bliss—until she met her eye, that was, at which point Dauriel winked—