"D'ye think this is a good idea, yer majesty?" asked Grunthor.
"What are you talking about?" asked Achmed. The two friends were walking down the passageway to go visit the Sleeping Child.
"Havin' Isis represent us like this," Grunthor replied.
"Do you have a problem with Isis?" asked Achmed quickly. He always valued Grunthor's opinion; sometimes he saw things that Achmed missed.
"No sir," Grunthor replied quickly, "I'm quite fond of the li'le miss. Bu' I don' wan' her getting caught. The F'dor don't know where she is yet," Grunthor replied.
"I've been preparing for a month, Grunthor," Achmed answered. He paused for a moment and stopped talking to make sure they weren't being followed. He inclined his head slightly back towards his room, and Grunthor shook his head. After that confirmation, Achmed continued. "We can not allow a F'dor to remain hidden here. I can only hope that revealing her presence here to the world will cause the F'dor to come out before he's too much of a challenge. Then we can take him down."
"D'ye think just havin' her 'ere will get 'im that angry?" asked Grunthor. Achmed smiled and reached into a pouch at his belt. He pulled something out and showed it to Grunthor.
"If that doesn't, this certainly will."
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Bloody wife." Tristan Stewart was walking out of his room, and into the hallway. If he heard her whining voice telling him to get her some of those undergarments from Ylorc one more time.
Tristan shuddered to himself. The thought of his wife in those garments made him cringe. The thought of her period made him cringe, but seeing her without clothes on was like a nightmare. He couldn't help missing Petunia at that moment, Petunia of the strawberry blonde hair, the sparkling eyes, the Petunia who now and forever held his heart. She had loved him deeply, and was taken away by those blasted Bolg.
Just remembering the incident those years ago made Tristan's anger rise. Although Rhapsody and Gwydion were the Lord and Lady Cymrian, they still allowed him to manage his province, which included the trade agreements. That meant that if he wanted to, he could levy a tariff on that Achmed's goods and make a nice sum off it. And now he didn't have Rhapsody to back him up and wile him into doing as Achmed pleased. Now life would be made better for him. With those vindictive plans in his head, Tristan went to summon his coach. It was time for him to leave.
*~*~*~*~*~*
A week later Isis was stretching her legs as she sat on her bed. It was time for her to get ready to meet the ever so lovely Tristan Stewart. She had a bad feeling about it. Isis didn't worry about meeting the baboon much; she had dealt with men who thought with their lower head before the one with the brain in it for a long time. She was worried about the F'dor finding her. She didn't even know what he looked like; whenever she saw him he was heavily cloaked. She was worried about drawing his attention towards the land and the people she had come to care for.
"If he does," she whispered to herself, "I swear, I will drive him back, even if it means going back into enslavement. Besides, putting me in danger is something Achmed would never do."
"What wouldn't Achmed do?" a voice called. Isis spun towards the door and saw that it was now open, and that Achmed had just walked in. Her eyes widened as she looked down at herself and saw that she was still in her undergarments.
"I didn't THINK Achmed would ever barge into a woman's room without waiting for her to be ready," Isis snapped. Two steps later she was behind the dressing screen, hiding herself from Achmed's shocked face. Not that she knew it was shocked; she was too busy trying to control her blush.unsuccessfully.
Achmed's eyes widened when he saw Isis sitting on her bed in her underwear. Immediately he turned away, so she couldn't glimpse the sight of his own blush. It didn't take him long to get it under control, so he turned back to find that she had fled behind the dressing screen. He could still see the light that surrounded her through the screen, and he caught the merest hint of the pink tint to it as she finally managed to suppress it.
"I'm.I'm sorry." Achmed stammered. Then he grinned. "Though I can't say the look is bad on you. Can I be looking forward to seeing you in that attire around the palace more often?" Isis's growl from behind the screen made him chuckle.
"Don't count on it, Achmed. Now, if you could get your hand out of your pants before you soil my bedroom and come over here, I need help buttoning up this blasted dress," Isis replied. Achmed paused for a second as he saw the shadow fall over Isis's head. He took a moment to slip something onto her vanity, and when it straightened out he cautiously walked behind the screen. The dress was unbuttoned most of the way down her back, and starting at the bottom he began to button the thing up.
"I must be special," Isis chuckled, "after all, I have the king of Ylorc himself acting as my hand maid."
"Don't get used to it. We'll call the show of you in your underwear payment for this, and we'll be even," Achmed replied gruffly.
"So, how much do you want me to impress this Stewart?" Isis asked.
"As much as you possibly can," Achmed replied.
"So that means hair that takes hours to design, face paints, fine jewelry, and the whole thing?" asked Isis. She was clearly a bit irritated at this turn of events, but was still perfectly willing to do this.
"You need to make yourself as beautiful as possible. The more attractive you are, the stupider he'll be," replied Achmed.
"Oh, so I'm not attractive now, am I?" asked Isis with mock irritation. She didn't even spare Achmed a glance as she walked over to the vanity and sat down.
"I never said that.though I could use a reminder," Achmed replied.
"That's it. OUT!" Isis turned, her braid almost knocking over a jar of perfume and pointed at the door.
"This is my palace," Achmed objected, though he was moving for the door.
"And this is my room," Isis replied. "Now I think it'd be in your best interest to leave, or you'll find yourself with a huge tariff. Achmed chuckled and shook his head before leaving. He didn't miss the sound of Isis's chuckle as he shut the door though, so he knew she wasn't mad.
"What're ye doin' here Yer Majesty?" a familiar voice called. Achmed turned when he saw Grunthor walking up behind him.
"I'm here because I just got kicked out of there," Achmed replied dryly.
"Well then I'll tell Miss Isis tha' Tristan Stewart has arrived. Ye should go down and gree' him like the good person that ye are," Grunthor replied.
"Make sure she wears what I showed you a few days ago," Achmed said as he turned to walk down the hall. Being a king wasn't the most pleasant of duties at times.
When Achmed arrived in his throne room, Tristan Stewart was already there, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. When he saw Achmed walk in, he couldn't help but look away. Achmed smiled when he noticed Stewart avoiding his eyes. He also noticed the pompous noble's breath quickening. Achmed walked the rest of the way into the room, and sat in his chair.
"I apologize; my representative is still getting ready. We were not aware that you would get here early for once," Achmed said.
"I just want to get this over and finished, King Achmed," Tristan replied haughtily. "And this time you don't have Rhapsody to make me agree to terms I wouldn't normally agree too."
"You're right," Achmed agreed. "I don't have Rhapsody. I do, however, have the Lady Isis." By now Achmed had become accustomed to Isis's heartbeat, and he knew that she and Grunthor were coming down the hallway.
"What in the name of all that is holy is an Isis?" asked Tristan. "Is that one of your subhuman people?" Achmed's eyes flashed, but another voice beat him to the rebuttal.
"I am Lady Isis," the voice said. Achmed hid a smile when he saw her on the stair, and tore his eyes away from her to instead watch Tristan's reaction. "Furthermore," she continued, "I believe that you owe not only an apology to me for speaking of me without reference to my rank, but an apology to my Lord for daring to insult the noble citizens of Ylorc." Isis was wearing a white gown that was faintly tinted gold. It matched her darker skin well, and the light color served to enhance her glow, making her look more like an angel than a human. Her long hair was back braided up her head, and the leftover hair was put into a bunch of curls. Sitting nicely in the masterpiece was a tiara with dozens of shards of diamonds placed in it intricately. Upon her hand she wore a single ring with small sparkles of diamond in the simple looking band. Other then those and her necklace, she was absent from other jewelry. Achmed noticed that she didn't use much face paint, just a little on her eyes to enhance them, along with a dab of gloss on her lips. The look on Tristan's face confirmed his suspicions, this ploy would work.
"My.my apologies to you, Lady Isis, and you, King Achmed. I meant no offense." Tristan was stammering over his words as if he couldn't believe he was saying them.
"None taken Tristan. Now, shall we get onto business?" Isis asked.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sorry that was so short. I'm trying to string out what ideas I have until I come up with some new ones. I only got two reviews this time around. ( But of course I'll answer them. (
Quinda - *cowers* I'm sorry, I'll never think I'm too old to be writing fan fiction again. ;) I believe the name of Canrif was probably a typo. I don't think it was intentional at all, and I'll most likely go back and fix it later. And Isis didn't make the name up, Rhapsody's nickname circled around after she disappeared from his grasp. And I only put that in there because Michael was one of the only things I knew about from the Old World, Elizabeth was a bit vague about it. And the only reason Isis is going in the open is because otherwise I won't have much of a story to write. I also have no idea what time that would be in Europe, sorry. I can tell you that it's Eastern Standard Time here.
Lunatus Vesper - More Ashe bashing will be soon, I promise. I just have to think up another way for it to get there. Don't worry, I won't let you down.
Until next week everyone. (
"What are you talking about?" asked Achmed. The two friends were walking down the passageway to go visit the Sleeping Child.
"Havin' Isis represent us like this," Grunthor replied.
"Do you have a problem with Isis?" asked Achmed quickly. He always valued Grunthor's opinion; sometimes he saw things that Achmed missed.
"No sir," Grunthor replied quickly, "I'm quite fond of the li'le miss. Bu' I don' wan' her getting caught. The F'dor don't know where she is yet," Grunthor replied.
"I've been preparing for a month, Grunthor," Achmed answered. He paused for a moment and stopped talking to make sure they weren't being followed. He inclined his head slightly back towards his room, and Grunthor shook his head. After that confirmation, Achmed continued. "We can not allow a F'dor to remain hidden here. I can only hope that revealing her presence here to the world will cause the F'dor to come out before he's too much of a challenge. Then we can take him down."
"D'ye think just havin' her 'ere will get 'im that angry?" asked Grunthor. Achmed smiled and reached into a pouch at his belt. He pulled something out and showed it to Grunthor.
"If that doesn't, this certainly will."
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Bloody wife." Tristan Stewart was walking out of his room, and into the hallway. If he heard her whining voice telling him to get her some of those undergarments from Ylorc one more time.
Tristan shuddered to himself. The thought of his wife in those garments made him cringe. The thought of her period made him cringe, but seeing her without clothes on was like a nightmare. He couldn't help missing Petunia at that moment, Petunia of the strawberry blonde hair, the sparkling eyes, the Petunia who now and forever held his heart. She had loved him deeply, and was taken away by those blasted Bolg.
Just remembering the incident those years ago made Tristan's anger rise. Although Rhapsody and Gwydion were the Lord and Lady Cymrian, they still allowed him to manage his province, which included the trade agreements. That meant that if he wanted to, he could levy a tariff on that Achmed's goods and make a nice sum off it. And now he didn't have Rhapsody to back him up and wile him into doing as Achmed pleased. Now life would be made better for him. With those vindictive plans in his head, Tristan went to summon his coach. It was time for him to leave.
*~*~*~*~*~*
A week later Isis was stretching her legs as she sat on her bed. It was time for her to get ready to meet the ever so lovely Tristan Stewart. She had a bad feeling about it. Isis didn't worry about meeting the baboon much; she had dealt with men who thought with their lower head before the one with the brain in it for a long time. She was worried about the F'dor finding her. She didn't even know what he looked like; whenever she saw him he was heavily cloaked. She was worried about drawing his attention towards the land and the people she had come to care for.
"If he does," she whispered to herself, "I swear, I will drive him back, even if it means going back into enslavement. Besides, putting me in danger is something Achmed would never do."
"What wouldn't Achmed do?" a voice called. Isis spun towards the door and saw that it was now open, and that Achmed had just walked in. Her eyes widened as she looked down at herself and saw that she was still in her undergarments.
"I didn't THINK Achmed would ever barge into a woman's room without waiting for her to be ready," Isis snapped. Two steps later she was behind the dressing screen, hiding herself from Achmed's shocked face. Not that she knew it was shocked; she was too busy trying to control her blush.unsuccessfully.
Achmed's eyes widened when he saw Isis sitting on her bed in her underwear. Immediately he turned away, so she couldn't glimpse the sight of his own blush. It didn't take him long to get it under control, so he turned back to find that she had fled behind the dressing screen. He could still see the light that surrounded her through the screen, and he caught the merest hint of the pink tint to it as she finally managed to suppress it.
"I'm.I'm sorry." Achmed stammered. Then he grinned. "Though I can't say the look is bad on you. Can I be looking forward to seeing you in that attire around the palace more often?" Isis's growl from behind the screen made him chuckle.
"Don't count on it, Achmed. Now, if you could get your hand out of your pants before you soil my bedroom and come over here, I need help buttoning up this blasted dress," Isis replied. Achmed paused for a second as he saw the shadow fall over Isis's head. He took a moment to slip something onto her vanity, and when it straightened out he cautiously walked behind the screen. The dress was unbuttoned most of the way down her back, and starting at the bottom he began to button the thing up.
"I must be special," Isis chuckled, "after all, I have the king of Ylorc himself acting as my hand maid."
"Don't get used to it. We'll call the show of you in your underwear payment for this, and we'll be even," Achmed replied gruffly.
"So, how much do you want me to impress this Stewart?" Isis asked.
"As much as you possibly can," Achmed replied.
"So that means hair that takes hours to design, face paints, fine jewelry, and the whole thing?" asked Isis. She was clearly a bit irritated at this turn of events, but was still perfectly willing to do this.
"You need to make yourself as beautiful as possible. The more attractive you are, the stupider he'll be," replied Achmed.
"Oh, so I'm not attractive now, am I?" asked Isis with mock irritation. She didn't even spare Achmed a glance as she walked over to the vanity and sat down.
"I never said that.though I could use a reminder," Achmed replied.
"That's it. OUT!" Isis turned, her braid almost knocking over a jar of perfume and pointed at the door.
"This is my palace," Achmed objected, though he was moving for the door.
"And this is my room," Isis replied. "Now I think it'd be in your best interest to leave, or you'll find yourself with a huge tariff. Achmed chuckled and shook his head before leaving. He didn't miss the sound of Isis's chuckle as he shut the door though, so he knew she wasn't mad.
"What're ye doin' here Yer Majesty?" a familiar voice called. Achmed turned when he saw Grunthor walking up behind him.
"I'm here because I just got kicked out of there," Achmed replied dryly.
"Well then I'll tell Miss Isis tha' Tristan Stewart has arrived. Ye should go down and gree' him like the good person that ye are," Grunthor replied.
"Make sure she wears what I showed you a few days ago," Achmed said as he turned to walk down the hall. Being a king wasn't the most pleasant of duties at times.
When Achmed arrived in his throne room, Tristan Stewart was already there, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. When he saw Achmed walk in, he couldn't help but look away. Achmed smiled when he noticed Stewart avoiding his eyes. He also noticed the pompous noble's breath quickening. Achmed walked the rest of the way into the room, and sat in his chair.
"I apologize; my representative is still getting ready. We were not aware that you would get here early for once," Achmed said.
"I just want to get this over and finished, King Achmed," Tristan replied haughtily. "And this time you don't have Rhapsody to make me agree to terms I wouldn't normally agree too."
"You're right," Achmed agreed. "I don't have Rhapsody. I do, however, have the Lady Isis." By now Achmed had become accustomed to Isis's heartbeat, and he knew that she and Grunthor were coming down the hallway.
"What in the name of all that is holy is an Isis?" asked Tristan. "Is that one of your subhuman people?" Achmed's eyes flashed, but another voice beat him to the rebuttal.
"I am Lady Isis," the voice said. Achmed hid a smile when he saw her on the stair, and tore his eyes away from her to instead watch Tristan's reaction. "Furthermore," she continued, "I believe that you owe not only an apology to me for speaking of me without reference to my rank, but an apology to my Lord for daring to insult the noble citizens of Ylorc." Isis was wearing a white gown that was faintly tinted gold. It matched her darker skin well, and the light color served to enhance her glow, making her look more like an angel than a human. Her long hair was back braided up her head, and the leftover hair was put into a bunch of curls. Sitting nicely in the masterpiece was a tiara with dozens of shards of diamonds placed in it intricately. Upon her hand she wore a single ring with small sparkles of diamond in the simple looking band. Other then those and her necklace, she was absent from other jewelry. Achmed noticed that she didn't use much face paint, just a little on her eyes to enhance them, along with a dab of gloss on her lips. The look on Tristan's face confirmed his suspicions, this ploy would work.
"My.my apologies to you, Lady Isis, and you, King Achmed. I meant no offense." Tristan was stammering over his words as if he couldn't believe he was saying them.
"None taken Tristan. Now, shall we get onto business?" Isis asked.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sorry that was so short. I'm trying to string out what ideas I have until I come up with some new ones. I only got two reviews this time around. ( But of course I'll answer them. (
Quinda - *cowers* I'm sorry, I'll never think I'm too old to be writing fan fiction again. ;) I believe the name of Canrif was probably a typo. I don't think it was intentional at all, and I'll most likely go back and fix it later. And Isis didn't make the name up, Rhapsody's nickname circled around after she disappeared from his grasp. And I only put that in there because Michael was one of the only things I knew about from the Old World, Elizabeth was a bit vague about it. And the only reason Isis is going in the open is because otherwise I won't have much of a story to write. I also have no idea what time that would be in Europe, sorry. I can tell you that it's Eastern Standard Time here.
Lunatus Vesper - More Ashe bashing will be soon, I promise. I just have to think up another way for it to get there. Don't worry, I won't let you down.
Until next week everyone. (