AN: Goodness. This isn't half way through, and after next chapter, we'll meet/pass the word count of my other completed stories. Oops.
Thanks for sticking with me if you're still here.
Also, I rarely write anything remotely violent, so reviews on that would be great.
Prince Andrew watched, his eyes unreadable in the morning sunlight, as a priest in black robe bore a torch along a path cleared for this purpose toward the funeral pyre. The public had been permitted to pay their respects throughout the early morning. A ring around the pyre that ended a few feet from the outer palace wall was littered with tokens of flowers and jewelry and even a straw doll or two. His father had been a well-loved king; he could only pray to be so worthy. As always, only the family was permitted at the final ceremony, and the priest bowed slightly to the would-be king before taking his leave. As he watched the pyramid of wood begin to smolder, Andrew realized that more than any time before, he missed his brother.
As a goddess, Lita rarely had the need to engage in the warring ways of her Amazonian brethren, but those attributes still figured heavily into her life. Though she had been a part of a handful of battles, and then mostly as an observer, she still had the dedication, strength, and military mind of a soldier. It was an attitude that she struggled with at certain times. For example, Lita loved flowers, finding them quite beautiful, yet another part of her insisted that flowers were rubbish and completely useless.
While she had handled a bow on only a few occasions, she knew she could pick one up and hit a target without much effort. Archery required focus, and Lita had focus in abundance. It was for this reason that, she guessed, Nephlite quickly switched from allowing her to walk through the temple's gardens during the demigoddess' first few visits to teaching her to garden.
Having seen Lita and Serenity admiring the roses, Nephlite first taught her to tend them. He enjoyed the beauty and peace of tending to such gorgeous flowers and thought she did, as well. That was, until the day when she got nicked by a thorn and ripped an entire bush from the ground with one swift movement. He wasn't sure exactly what she was saying under her breath, but he didn't ask for fear of his family being cursed by the gods.
The area of the garden where Lita and Nephlite were working was far from the temple, near the woods. In fact, to Lita's undertrained eye, a few of the plants he was tending seemed to be growing wildly under the first few trees. From where they stood, the temple was visible, yet tiny. Many of the plants in the area were smallish shrubs that bore berries in a variety of colors. There were a number of rather ungraceful flowers, in Lita's opinion, that had white petals with awkwardly large yellow centers. None of the flowers in this area were beautiful, and there were few enough flowers here to begin with. Mostly it was an area of strange, waist high, green plants. Some had just one or two large leaves, some grew in bunches of leaves, and others had many tiny, bristle-like leaves.
"What are all of these plants?" Lita demanded. "Your keep your garden only for the opportunity to enjoy nature in the name of Selene. What, then, is the use of this section filled with unattractive oddities?" As she asked her questions, Lita pointed to a few of the offending plants.
Nephlite looked surprised and let out a startled laugh. He had assumed that a goddess of a warrior people would know the value of plants, but it seemed that instead she thought they were frivolous. "These flowers are chamomile, which helps with restlessness, and feverfew, which is used in caring for the sick." He plucked one of the chamomile flowers and held it near Lita's nose, feeling pleased when she looked immediately more relaxed.
Lita took the flower and held it near her nose for a moment longer. "It does seem rather calming. Do not think that I do not see your goal in offering it to me." So saying, she cast it aside, attempting to look a bit more disgruntled than she felt.
An amused grin crossed Nephlite's face. "I had no intentions," he assured her. "If you observe the trees, you will notice mistletoe, which we use within some of our rituals." He gestured to a few plants growing in the branches over their heads. "Even the trees themselves may be of use." Here, he pointed to a place where bark had been chipped away on one of the trunks. His attention turned to their feet. "These green, leafy plants are garlic and horsetail, both of which are helpful for the treatment of wounds and even have a few digestive benefits if drunk in tea." Nephlite sat down next to one of the garlic plants and gestured to Lita to join him. After a beat his nose wrinkled, and he added, "Not that I can recommend having a garlic tea."
Lita kneeled down next to Nephlite's cross-legged form. "These leaves can treat wounds?" she asked, gently brushing her fingers along the plant in front of them. She
Giving her another grin, Nephlite said, "Of course not. This is one plant which you are welcome to uproot any time." When she stared at him blankly, he guided her hand to the plant and pulled it up gently with her. "The garlic bulbs are what we use primarily. And you can perhaps tell from the smell why it may not make the best tea." He was rewarded with a laugh from Lita. He pulled out a leather pouch and dropped it into her free hand. "The bag will cover the smell until we get back."
As instructed, Lita carefully placed the garlic bulbs in the pouch, pulling the drawstrings to seal it up tightly. She was pleased to know that plants could serve other purposes. She wondered at how they might be of benefit to soldiers leaving the field of battle.
Spending time in the garden had been very interesting and, in some ways, useful during Lita's Earth visits with Serenity and Mina. It was a way to see many things about nature on Earth that she was unfamiliar with. Though she was hesitant to spend more time with Nephlite, who caused her to feel conflicting emotions that she sincerely wished to avoid, the act of gardening allowed her to ease her thoughts and focus her attention elsewhere. She supposed it also allowed him more freedom from the temple walls by having a guest to entertain, and of late, the atmosphere had seemed very tense, especially coming from the direction of the Head Priest.
Lita gave a light, investigative sniff and was happy that the garlic was masked as she passed the pouch back to Nephlite. She then very suddenly realized that her distraction strategy only worked when she didn't position herself immediately next to him, allow him to guide her hands, and promptly lean into him as she pressed a small item into his hands. She looked up from their hands around the pouch at Nephlite, who seemed to have realized this at the same moment. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into his blue eyes.
With what seemed like fluid ease, Nephlite had dropped the bag, moved to a kneeling position, and lightly grasped Lita's elbows before pulling her forward into a kiss. He allowed his lips to ghost over hers, unsure how the proud, Amazonian demigoddess would react. When he saw that her eyes had drifted shut, he pressed soft kisses on each eyelid.
In the several hundred years of her existence, Lita could quite honestly say that she had never cared about a man. It was this reason that she was so perplexed by the fire that began to course through her veins at the lightest of kisses. It simply didn't happen to her, being something more reserved for Mina's love stories. Surprised by that thought or perhaps how little it upset her at this moment, Lita jerked suddenly, but Nephlite's hands halted her motion unexpectedly, causing her to fall forward roughly into the man.
Nephlite's brow furrowed as he looked down at Lita, who was pressed into his chest. His let his hands drop, feeling a bit guilty for clearly having distressed her. She tipped her face up, and he opened his mouth to apologize.
Having only just acquainted herself with the delightful feeling of leaning against a man's chest, Lita instinctively looked up to apologize to Nephlite for knocking into him. As she did so, she felt his hands drop and saw that his face had changed from the smile he so readily offered to her, but rarely to others, to a look of sadness. She immediately and inexplicably felt the need to comfort him, so she reached her hand up to caress his hair gently, as she had others in many circumstances. When his lips turned back to a smile, she felt the heat from his kiss return to her cheeks. "I do not know what this means," Lita mumbled, eyes settling on staring at Nephlite's chest as her hand unconsciously played with his hair.
Drawing one hand along Lita's ample breast and down her waist to lightly grasp her outer thigh, Nephlite practically purred at the sight of the shiver he elicited. "I can teach you," he whispered, his voice heavy.
As she moved in sync to meet the lips of the mortal man, Lita felt as if her body was acting of its own accord, following the steps to a dance that she wasn't aware she knew. As she accepted and acted on the desire to run her palms firmly up over the planes of Nephlite's chest, Lita allowed the fire in body and mind to take over.
That evening in the great hall, Prince Andrew was greeted by his fellow courtiers. As the crown was placed on his head, he became aware for a moment of the noise of his people from outside the castle, and it remained in his consciousness as a constant buzz. Those who had noticed made no comment, and Andrew himself was unaware that he had gone through his coronation day in a daze. Each noble stepped forward one-by-one to kiss his ring and pledge allegiance to the new king, immediately seeming to blend back into the darker recesses of the room. After the formalities were out of the way, Andrew became vaguely aware with little reaction that a few lords and ladies from outlying lands were missing. He told himself that he needed to consider it later, but he wasn't sure he quite remembered this thought a few moments later.
With his closest advisors, Andrew swept up the central staircase and made for the royal bedchamber. The volume of the crowd reached an unbearable high as the newly crowned King Andrew stepped onto the balcony to greet his cheering public. A surge of exhaustion overtook him as he looked out on the swarming throngs that were now his responsibility, and Andrew felt more alone than ever.
A little girl lay on a marble slab. Her slack face suggested sleep; she wore what looked a long white nightgown, and her black hair tumbled prettily around her pale face. She was dwarfed by the size of the stone. It extended half an arms' length on each side of her body and well past her head and feet. At each end, two tall, black candles burned brightly in silver holders. They matched the sconces that were attached by some unknown means to the roughly hewn, dark stone walls of the small cave.
A plethora of well-dressed men stood ranged about the cave. Each was accompanied by one of the guard creatures that many of them had seen before in the palace. A few men held their hands in various states of prayer: some folded together before them, some with fingers curved into O-shapes held at the waist. Other men, who had never seen one of the uncanny beings before, were too aghast to do more than try to avoid looking at them; the things were hard on the eyes. A single glance at the collective unease showed that all were there by force.
"Welcome," a woman's voice called from the back. Only a few men dared to look at her, but the guards forced the formation of a path through the crowd. She walked slowly, allowing her white dress to drag slightly against the uneven floor; her face was covered by the large hood of her dark violet cloak. "We, the servants of Metallia, thank thee for your acceptance of our invitation." She stepped up to the altar.
One man dared step forward. "The Kingdom of Earth will not stand for such traitorship! What is this child doing here?" he demanded. "If any harm comes to her-"
"Silence," Beryl interrupted calmly without turning from the altar. The deadly quiet of her voice was more frightening than any bellow she might have issued. Those nearest saw her left hand twitch as a horrifying crack echoed around the chamber. Suddenly the speaker was lying on the floor; his head turned to an unnatural angle. Her right hand rose, an ornate dagger clutched in its fingers. She made a few circular motions with it over the girl before plunging it neatly into the girl's belly.
The room echoed with the little girl's sudden gasp. Though the occupants saw her body jerk upward with her mouth open in a silent scream, she never opened her eyes from sleep. Every candle went out. The temple was bathed in darkness with the only light coming from a purple and black sphere of plasma that was writhing in place over the now empty altar.
Beryl pushed back her hood and whirled to face the room. So close to the energy, her newly freed hair began to float upward to frame her body, borne on the currents of power. "Denounce your gods! Join us! There can be only one! Behold Metallia!" In celebration, the guards stomped what passed for their feet. Nearly as one, the men dropped to their knees before her, their foreheads touching the floor in supplication.