BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved.
"Fatal distraction"
by Vidja
"Get out of here!", Mariel snarled, her rose-red mouth twisted into an expression of utter fury.
"As you wish, my lady", the old woman croaked, with a slight bow. "But I'm not done with the massage yet, you know that well enough. Moreover, I meant no disrespect. I was just saying that you're-"
"Enough!", the young Centauri woman exploded, glaring at her servant like an outraged goddess. "I said, get out… NOW!"
The old crone let out a loud sigh, but then she chose – quite wisely, indeed – to retreat in good order and disappeared in the corridor, with a last, irritating half-bow.
Her beautiful mistress grabbed the perfumed oil's crystal bottle and threw it after her, sending it to crash against the closing door.
Then she closed her eyes, exaled slowly through her parted lips, and rubbed the bridge of her nose between index and thumb.
As she opened her eyes again, she stared at the fragrant fluid dripping to the floor, and stomped the carpeted surface with her delicate right little foot.
Of course, she could call Selira back, and order her to clean up the mess… but she didn't feel like seeing the old witch any time soon, so she picked up a silken handkerchief and rubbed the slicky spot away, a disgusted snicker pasted upon her face throughout the job's whole duration.
Satisfied with the result, she threw the spoiled cloth into the recycle unit, and sniffed her own hands, gingerly.
Mighty Li,
she tought, this reek's bound to follow me for a long while.Then, with a shrug, she wiped her hands against her naked body – nothing had to be wasted now that she was, as the old bore was reminding her a little while before, "a poor woman, all alone in the world" – and completed the massage sequence on her own, gently stroking the firm tissues of her thighs and calves.
She began to dress up, meanwhile rehearsing her lovely coquettish smile before the full-figure mirror: Minister Varona was being a little late – thankfully – so she took her time to make sure that everything, from the flower composition down to the bed's sheets, would be ready to properly receive the burly little politician.
* * * *
As soon as the Minister tiptoed off the room, Mariel stopped pretending to be sound asleep, and turned her long, elegant neck to look at the night table.
Varona had left a "small token of his affection"… an ancient-looking jewel, a neclace made out of three different types of gold, intertwined to form an intricate pattern, with five emerald-like gems woven into it.
She grabbed the thing, and nodded approvingly: the weight felt just good.
Minister Varona – but she had called him quite other names, half an hour ago – was, of course, a generous man.
He'd come at her request, to assure "poor, disgraced Mariel" of his unchanged respect and friendship.
He'd contributed to her wealth's dissipation, by thoughtfully sipping away nearly a bottle from her Brivari reserve.
He'd offered her to be his guest at the Court for that evening's ball, of course not before being repeatedly assured by her that Ambassador Mollari, for whom he professed the highest admiration, would not have resented his audacity.
And in the end, as Mariel had abandoned her head against his shoulder and done some convincing sobbing about her misery, he had held her tightly against his round belly, and offered her his friendship again, his tentacles blatantly stirring under the richly adorned overcoat all the way long… after which, he had felt an obligation to bring her further comfort.
Oh well, the Centauri woman thought, kicking the sheets away from her perfect body and crawling out of the curtained bed. As long as he keeps "happening" to carry family treasures into his pockets…
She laughed merrily at the coincidence which had made him take the necklace before coming to visit an unhappy friend.
He could have spared such a poor lie, indeed… after all, he was expected to bring a gift.
They always were.
All
of them.Mariel stretched herself in front of the mirror, and realized just how exausted she was.
She couldn't even bear the tought of going through the whole thing again – bathing, perfuming, dressing up and all the rest – yet there was a ball in her near future, and she'd better get ready.
She bit her lower lip for a moment, then shrugged and cried out loud, "Selira! SELIRA!"
She knew well enough that the stupid old cow would've scowled at her, and started again the blasted wailing about her mistress' having been "disposed with" by that most remarkable man, Mollari.
As it was, Selira was not a bad asset in herself… she was a faithful and experienced servant, and Mariel had known that her (often unsolicited, and sometimes outright unwelcome) suggestions could be trusted, ever since she was a child.
But she was also a most fervent admirer of Mariel's former husband; she had been that ever since the unlucky day in which her mistress had joined her destiny – and, more significantly, her fortunes – with the ancient and wealthy House Mollari.
The beautiful woman knew well enough that being a part of the Ambassador's personal harem could be quite a dreadful experience for a young Centauri (and quite a lustful one, she admitted to herself, with a twisted grin), but she could agree with the old servant that there were certain privileges… money, of course.
And
parties. And luxuries. And status.Well, she could still have most of them, except maybe for the status.
And she would never be forced to meet her two former "colleagues" again, the fishy Daggair and the dull-looking Timov, and to be kind to them…
And, by all the Great Maker's might, she would always be free to admit into her quarters as many gentlemen as she wished, and she had largely exploited this particular option since the day she'd left Londo (or the other way round, it just didn't make such a big difference), five months ago.
That was not to say that she'd been a faithful bride before that point; she'd always followed her whims, but the same had been true of Daggair – and even Timov would have been glad to amuse herself behind her husband's back, had she found an unpretending enough suitor.
But in the last four months, Mariel had literally made a living from her seduction tactics, and out of a sort of poetic justice, she'd always invited her beaux into the same quarters that Londo had left her in order to avoid attracting too many gossips.
Of course she'd become more selective in the choice of her partners; only ministers and generals, and entrepreneurs, or at the very least, ambassadors, could hope to be admitted to her presence in order to "offer their friendship".
Sure, the mere thought of Londo chosing Timov above herself was still enough to stir her fury – she'd woken up in the night with a terrible sense of nausea for a dozen times during the last month, and she was sure that Mollari was to be blamed for her nerves' bad condition – but all things considered, she was quite satisfied with her lot in life… Selira's rumbilngs included.
* * * *
"Selira! SELIRA! Will you hurry up, you stupid old –"
"Here I am, my lady", the woman panted, entering her mistress' bathing room. "Are you all right?"
"NO, I'm not, thank you", Mariel snarled, wiping a few drops of acrid saliva from the corner of her mouth. "I've had nightmares again… and you know how feeble my nerves have become, recently".
"Selira regarded her with a doubtful expression. "I hope so", she half-muttered.
"WHAT? Have you finally lost your residual wits? It's ten… no, nearly 14 days already, since I last had a full night's sleep. I feel exausted, stressed, and the ball was unusually long… I must be looking awful!"
"No, and that's what makes me think", the elder woman said, softly. "You look even better than ever before. Your skin's radiant, your hips are firmer than usual, the wrinkles around your eyes are gone… no, my dear, listen to me", she said, preventing her mistress' incoming protest about the wrinkles argument, "and as for the eyes themselves, well… there's a light in them… a special one… which was simply not there before".
The young Centauri looked more than a little perplexed. "I know you're trying to score a point, Selira", she muttered, with a little pout, "but I don't seem to be able to get it, too".
"May I speak my mind freely, lady Mariel?", the servant asked, with a hint of concern.
"Yes, yes, go on!", the other one replied, exasperated.
"I think you're pregnant", Selira declared, bluntly. "Of course, I might be wrong… but I'm not".
Mariel stared at her, gaping. "You REALLY are out of your wits! I've always… you know, cared about… certain precautions…"
Her voice grew weaker and weaker, and in the end, it trailed off.
The truth was, she'd paid attention sometimes. Most of the times, even. But there had been occasions…
The young Centauri sighed deeply, and went back to the bedroom, straight towards the curtained bed.
"I'm going to have some sleep now", she announced bravely. "Send for a doctor… I will see him early tomorrow".
* * * *