Celene swept into her private apartments in Halamshiral, and Briala followed. It was the first time that Briala had been here since she had been Celene's handmaiden. The "negotiations" had just been concluded, and the masquerade was finished. Briala had spent most of the night on tetherhooks, knowing that a plot against Celene's life was in the works. She had assumed the danger was from Gaspard and not Florianne, but Briala had known that Celene could die before the night was through.
Briala had struggled with her decision not to spill everything she knew to Celene. The way the Empress had smiled at her when Briala had first walked through the vestibule gave her many doubts about her course. Briala never knew if it was her imagination or not, but it seemed like Celene had a special, warm smile she only showed to Briala. Seeing it again was almost enough to make Briala forget the spectacular cruelty the Empress had shown to her people. Almost.
The impulse to warn Celene, already strong, became practically unmanageable after the Inquisitor had shown her the locket. The elven locket that Briala had given Celene years ago. Truth be told, it wasn't particularly rare or valuable, but Briala had given it to Celene in the hopes that the Empress would understand just how much love Briala had put into it. And judging from the fact that Celene had unwisely kept it in her personal vault, even after they stopped speaking to each other, Celene had.
Briala had been forced to take a page out of Gaspard's book and down a glass or two of brandy afterward, despite knowing that an elf woman could get drunk quite easily on human-made wine. The alcohol had helped, slightly. It made it a little easier for Briala to simply watch, and wait.
In the handful of minutes before the Empress's speech, Briala had stood still next to the railing overlooking the dance floor, not far from where Celene was chatting amicably with her fellow Game-players. Every second had seemed to stretch widely then. Briala didn't know what form of harm might come to Celene and honestly didn't know what she would do when it did. Could Briala really stand there and watch Celene die? Would she throw herself in front of her one-time lover, despite all the pain Celene had given to her over the years?
Thankfully, Briala never needed to find out. The Inquisitor had boldly stepped out and confronted the mastermind of the plot. Not Gaspard, as Briala and most of the court had been expecting, but Florianne. Briala had listened as the Inquisitor filled in the gaps in her knowledge and saw the pieces fall into place. The plot against Celene had always been too subtle for Gaspard to pull off. And yet all the clues had pointed toward him. Now Briala knew why. Florianne had been framing him.
The confrontation on the balcony afterward had gone perfectly for her. The Inquisitor had pointed the finger at Gaspard, and had even gone out of her way to share the credit with Briala, who had smoothly agreed, making it seem like they had actually worked together. And what's more, the Inquisitor had seemed to honestly want to reunite Briala with Celene. Before Briala had seen the locket, it was an idea that she would have dismissed out of hand, at least openly. But seeing Celene acknowledge that yes, she had kept Briala's token of affection made Briala's heart ache once more. Their relationship still meant something to Celene. She hadn't tossed it aside as Briala had seen Celene discard many relationships after they had proved to be unprofitable for her. There was still love for Celene in Briala's heart. If it was also true that Celene loved her, couldn't they try again?
The speech afterward had solidified matters for Briala. Standing there overlooking the guests, with the Empress and the Inquisitor next to her, Briala knew that she had to seize this opportunity. For the city elves who still needed someone to champion them, and for herself. It would be different this time. It had to be.
"Such a tiring evening. But much was accomplished." Celene said lightly as she removed her mask.
They were in Celene's bedroom. The gilt-painted walls, high marble ceiling, and rich draperies were much as Briala remembered. The first time Briala had entered Celene's bedroom, she had gaped at the obscene concentration of wealth that was here. She could remember thinking that the money that could be made by selling the finery in this room alone would keep a thousand of her people in comfort for years. And yet the only purpose it served was to look pleasing for the Empress of Orlais. The guilt Briala had felt the first night she had slept together with Celene in the huge, exquisitely soft bed in the middle of the room while her elven compatriots largely made due with hammocks, bunks, and hay had kept her awake most of the night. But, day by day, that sense of shame had faded. Now it was nothing to be concerned about. Briala still knew that accepting the decadence around her was wrong, but it was a wrong that was far, far down the list of matters she wanted to change.
"Indeed. And yet, there is still much to be done." Briala answered evenly, knowing that Celene tended to forget her promises if Briala did not remind her every so often.
Briala also took off her mask and set it on one of the small tables set around the room. She loosened the mauve covering she wore over her curly, cinnamon-brown hair and took it off as well. Among the Orlesian nobility, curly hair was seen as base and common. Anyone whose hair was naturally curly, such as Gaspard or Vivienne, tended to cut it quite short. Briala might have done the same, but Celene had always prized her curly hair. On many nights, Briala had read dispatches and reports to Celene in bed while her lover had wended her fingers through Briala's hair. It was for Celene's sake that Briala had covered her hair in court rather than cut it off.
Celene smiled as soon as Briala's hair came into view. Briala couldn't help but smile back. Having seen many upturned noses and snide looks when some Orlesian noble caught a glimpse of her natural curls had left Briala quite sensitive about her hair. The fact that Celene seemed to adore Briala's hair was one of the things that originally made Briala fall in love with her in turn.
"You didn't cut it. I'm glad." Celene said warmly, walking toward her.
Briala said nothing, but she couldn't keep a slight blush from entering her cheeks. Briala hadn't wanted to examine her reasonings for not cutting her hair even after splitting up from Celene. Covering her hair in public was what she had done for years and there had simply been no reason to change things. But now, Briala couldn't deny that a part of her had still hoped to reconnect with Celene, and that had kept her from cutting even a lock of her hair off.
Celene had reached her and was as close to Briala as she could remember being in years. Being a human, Celene was several inches taller than her. It made it so that Briala always needed to look upward to see into her former lover's blue eyes, and Celene always needed to look downward to see into Briala's brown ones. It was a clear illustration to Briala of the power difference in their relationship, and however it might change now, they would likely never be equals any more than Briala would be Celene's equal in height.
"I've missed you so much, Bria." Celene said, in the soft, whispering tone that she only used when they were alone together.
Bria. Celene was the only one who could call her that. Briala was quick to correct anyone else who tried to. Hearing that name again brought up tumultuous feelings inside of her. Then and now, it made Briala feel loved and cherished. But it also confused her deeply. Briala could never understand how Celene could be so warm and kind to her, and yet so cruel and uncaring to Briala's people. If Celene could love an elf like Briala, then why couldn't she extend even a small part of that love towards the elves in the Alienages all over Orlais? Even now it made Briala want to grab Celene by the shoulders and shake her, to demand an answer.
But she already knew the answer. It was The Game. The position of the Empress was never nearly as secure as it seemed. If Celene appeared to be too favorable toward elves, who the nobles of Orlais saw as a convenient source of servants and laborers, then her rivals would use it to undermine her. Had already used it, in fact. But just because Gaspard was currently languishing in a locked parlor, the same kind of parlor that Celene had planned to have Briala locked in years ago, didn't mean that someone else couldn't channel the worrying of the nobility against Celene.
It was a weak excuse for Celene's inaction, but it was no excuse at all for how...comfortable she seemed to be with the oppression of the elves in her kingdom. Celene was always full of sympathy when Briala detailed some of the casual cruelty that befell the elves in the alienage in Val Royeaux. And yet the Empress seemed to regard it as akin to a flood or a drought or some other sad but natural occurrence, rather than targeted oppression that was willfully created every single day by Orlesian society.
Celene reached out to stroke Briala's hair. Briala closed her eyes at the sensation, wishing that she could rid herself of the small part of her that wouldn't let go of Celene. The part of her that held some tiny hope, even now, that Celene would change. That all the hope that Briala had been filled with at the beginning would be borne out.
In her head, Briala had long since accepted that Celene would never really change, and that the promises Celene offered were only ever empty words. She knew it. But that small, naive, trusting part of her that Briala could never quite eliminate from herself still wanted to believe in Celene regardless of any logic or evidence. It was the reason why Briala found herself back in the royal apartments of the Winter Palace in Halamshiral despite vowing never to come here again. And it was the reason why Briala leaned into Celene's fingers, having just now realized how starved she had been for Celene's touch.
Celene brought her other hand up to cup Briala's face, raising it ever so slightly. Briala's heart started to beat faster now. She knew that Celene was about to kiss her. If Briala wanted to stop this, the time to do it was now. She would not have the strength to stop herself afterward. Briala tried to think of all the heartache Celene had given her over the years, all of the lies and the selfishness. Briala knew it would only lead to more pain if she succumbed to this, but no words were forthcoming. Celene was going to kiss her, and Briala was left with the sad knowledge that she was weaker than she thought.
Celene's lips touched hers. In a single, spiraling moment, Briala knew that the small part of her that still held onto Celene had triumphed. It had successfully fought her logical mind to a standstill, and now it took control as Briala met Celene's lips with her own. The kiss was absolutely intoxicating to Briala. The heady feeling of it was billowing in her mind, further crowding out any thoughts she might have had about how unwise this was.
After more than a minute of increasingly passionate kissing, Celene broke it off. Briala took a moment to catch her breath but could do nothing else as Celene lightly took hold of her wrist and led Briala to her bed. Celene paused at the side of the bed and looked over her shoulder at Briala, seemingly waiting for something. Briala was still recovering from the haze she had been in, but her hands seemed to know what to do. She unbuttoned the back of Celene's dress as she had done countless times before.
It was only after Briala had finished helping Celene out of her dress that she realized what she was doing and silently cursed herself for the way she had slipped so easily back into their old routines. Briala was no longer Celene's handmaiden. She was nobility now, the Marquis of the Dales. So why did Celene still expect Briala to serve her as she once had, and why did Briala so easily acquiesce?
The answer was deeply uncomfortable to Briala, who knew how hard it was to escape the notion she had developed as a child in the Alienage that humans were to be obeyed. What else could she think after seeing so many of her people, for all of their talk, bowing and scraping to their human employers? It was something Briala had worked hard to overcome in herself, and the knowledge that bits and pieces of her old subservience yet remained was disappointing to her.
If Briala could have continued on her train of thought, she might have been able to break the spell Celene always weaved over her. But it was not to be. Celene turned and kissed Briala again, and once more, logic was crowded out of her mind. Briala's doubts and worries gently faded away in the pleasant warmth that was suffusing her thoughts, and by the time Celene had finished kissing her again, Briala felt as though her knees could give way at any time.
Celene then sat on the bed in just her lace undergarments. Her expectant look made Briala fumble for the buttons on the back of her own dress, and the heady warmth still floating through her head was enough to make her ignore the fact that Celene hadn't made any move to return the favor and help her undress.
After a few moments, Briala was standing there in her own undergarments. She took a moment to reflect on just how deeply she had to trust Celene to stand there, practically nude with her curly hair uncovered. But Celene had earned her trust in that area by now. Her lover accepted, and in fact, adored every inch of Briala's body. It was a deeply comforting feeling to know that Celene had always found her to be beautiful.
Briala sat down on the bed next to her lover. Celene was almost always the one to take control when they made love and she was quick to do so again. Celene kissed her once more, and then gently pushed Briala down onto the bed. Briala felt a momentary sense of loss when Celene's lips left hers, but the wonderful feeling of Celene kissing her neck more than made up for it.
By now Briala had learned to enjoy Celene's love of foreplay. At the beginning of their relationship, Briala couldn't understand how Celene could continue to patiently kiss and caress her even after it was clear that Briala was primed already. The absolutely explosive orgasms that Celene drew out of her had quickly shown her why, however. For all of Celene's selfishness in her daily life, she was quite the unselfish lover.
There were some mornings, few and far between, where neither of them had any business to take care of early on. That had meant that Celene could devote the entire morning to driving Briala crazy with orgasm after orgasm after mind-shattering orgasm. Each one of those particular mornings was etched into Briala's memory, and thinking about them, something that she had tried to avoid for the last few years, was making her more excited than ever.
Celene moved downward with her lips. Briala knew what was coming now, and braced herself for Celene to gently lower the cups of her brassiere. Briala's diamond-hard nipples poked out above the lace. It was not long at all before Celene began to tease them, first with her fingers, and then with her tongue.
Briala writhed as best as she could on Celene's luxuriously soft bed. She had sunk down far enough that her movements were very much in vain, but Briala tried nevertheless. Her nipples were extremely sensitive, and it was something that Celene loved about her. Briala knew from experience that Celene delighted in bringing Briala right up to the edge solely by stimulating her nipples, and then, at her leisure, tipping Briala over it in whatever fashion she chose.
After so long apart from her lover, the pleasure Briala felt from Celene's tongue on her nipples seemed like it was all she could take. But Briala quickly found out otherwise as Celene skillfully ratcheted the pleasure she was feeling higher and higher until Briala felt as if her mind was melting. Briala was quickly being brought to the place Celene wanted her to be.
It was a place of exquisite pleasure mixed with no small amount of torment, all because Celene was keeping her from orgasming. Her lover knew Briala's body well enough to apply the perfect amount of pressure to nudge her toward orgasm, then gently pull her back, and repeat the process over and over again, keeping Briala suspended in the utterly intolerable position of being perched on right on the edge, with the pure, deep satisfaction of an orgasm very, very near, but infinitesimally out of her reach no matter how hard Briala tried to get there.
Having no ability to either reach orgasm herself, or to step away from the constant, dizzying pleasure Celene provided her, Briala was reduced to begging. She was dimly aware of babbling nonsensical gibberish at Celene, but the words were beside the point anyway. Briala was communicating her desperate desire to Celene, and could only wait for her lover to finally decide that she had been through enough.
Celene's gracious permission came eventually, though in her overwhelmed state, Briala couldn't have said whether it was a minute later or an hour. All Briala knew was that she had finally, finally been allowed out of the intolerable mental prison she had been occupying ever since Celene had driven her to the edge. The form Celene's mercy took was a single finger, which Briala could feel being traced over her formerly-neglected nether-regions. If Briala could feel embarrassment at that moment, she might have felt some at how damp her undergarments seemed to be. But thankfully, she had no time to worry about unimportant things like that.
Briala's orgasm was everything she had hoped for. In fact, for as long it lasted, and Briala honestly couldn't tell, it was quite simply Everything. It swallowed up every single other thought Briala might have had. Nothing was anything in comparison to the overpowering pleasure that swirled around Briala like a mighty vortex, throwing her this way and that. Slowly, more slowly than Briala thought was possible, it started to recede from her mind.
The feeling of being tossed about by a billowing wave of heat was so real that Briala, when she opened her eyes, was surprised to find that she was still in Celene's bed, with her lover having apparently grabbed hold of her wrists to stop Briala from hurting either of them inadvertently.
"That was...quite something, my dear. I was concerned that I might have pushed you too far." Celene said, a note of apology in her voice.
Briala laughed, or tried to. It was more a croak at first, but eventually, she had recovered enough to try to put Celene at ease. Any ill-will others might have had about the almost-cruel method of Celene's lovemaking was absent by now in Briala. She had tasted the absolute height of pleasure that her body and mind were capable of, and if she needed to suffer somewhat in order to reach it, then it was a price worth paying.
"I suppose I shouldn't have worried. You are as brave as I remember, Bria." Celene said lightly, bending down to kiss Briala once again.
There it was again, the name that only Celene was allowed to call her. Now that Briala had more or less decided to put aside her doubts about Celene it made her feel as if she had come home, somehow. Certainly, the Alienage wasn't home. Few elves thought of it that way. Was being here, in Celene's embrace, in her very bed, Briala's home?
Celene's true character would show, sooner or later. Even in Briala's satisfied haze, she knew that. Heartache and pain would be waiting for her down the line. It was unavoidable. And when it came, it would be decimating. Briala knew this as well. But for now, she did the only thing that Briala had ever known that would give her soul a sense of peace and belonging. She curled up next to her lover, Celene, the Empress of Orlais, and quickly fell asleep.