La Serenissima by Secret Heart
Disclaimer: Do not own Sailormoon.
Thanks very very much to my best friend 'Silly' for "editing" ... at eight in the morning. Also a great thank you to Madam Hawke for looking over my script. Your comments are invaluable. Grazie Tante!
Pre-note: Just for clarification, the idea for this fic was born at approximately the same time as when Madam Hawke started to post her 2nd fic. I just didn't get around to posting it. Yes, we share the same setting, but that's it. If you read it through, you'd notice that nothing else is the same. I'm proud of this fic because it is entirely original, born out of insomnia a few weeks ago.
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O tempora, O mores! - Oh, the times! Oh, the morals! (Cicero) -
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Prologue
"Cara, why are you so flustered? Don't play the innocent with me ... " Shoved underneath her skirts, ebony hair fluttered as the head lifted up to glance at the distraught woman.
"Endy, we can't do this now..." The slender woman looked at him, her voice quivering at the onslaught of illicit passion that the man was making her feel.
He smirked snidely: "I see, trying to play hard to catch, uh? That's rather hypocritical, Franni, considering that ... you reside in this palazzo." He finished the sentence while he reached up to scatter kisses on her neck, down her pale shoulder ...
She was losing her concentration, and she could not afford to do so. The last time it happened, there were consequences to be paid, and she did not want to go through them again.
"No...that's not it, it's just that - " She struggled to distance herself from him, but it was merely a weak attempt. Feeling her helplessness, the man grinned wickedly, holding tight onto her waist while slipping the strap of her lacy undergarment off her shoulder.
"Darling, we simply can't be caught being in here..." Both failed to notice a slender hand reaching open the scarlet curtains that form the entrance to the large area.
An imposing woman of stark beauty stood before them. She could not care less of the exposed limbs and thighs of the woman, nor the naked yet sexy derriere of the man whose back was facing her.
She had seen plenty of those before.
"What have we here, Francesca?" the blonde said pointedly. "I thought I told you not to bring your guests into my luxurious abode."
With red satin sheets clinging to the lovers' bodies, the light from the numerous hand-blown glass chandeliers reflecting off their sweaty skins, no one could deny that the room perfectly fit the description of being luxurious.
Awaiting a reply, the blond woman standing was dressed in an equally rich manner: golden designs snaked around her tight indigo dress. The fabric and cut of the dress was noticeably of high quality, probably made by the hands of Venice's own tailors. She held herself regally at the end of the bed. "In fact, there are a hundred rooms in this palazzo, and yet, you chose to step in here. Once again, I might add." She stated as an afterthought.
The frantic brunette looked up, trying to fix her intricate layers of dressings. She swallowed hard. "I - I didn't mean to? He took me in here!" She panicked as she begged silently with her diluted eyes for the man to take the blame. The man glanced over sardonically, hardly ruffled at the untimely interruption.
Endymion rose from the bed slowly. Still half-dressed, his creased burgundy shirt opened further as he supported himself with the help of the bedpost to a standing position, revealing a body well-toned by the mandatory civil service the state required of all abled young men. "And who are you, bella, that you could think of kicking me out of here? I chose to borrow this finely decorated room only for a pleasurable hour or so."
His eyes narrowed. "Do you even know who I am?"
The blond woman fixed a cold stare at the beautifully chiselled man. "Of course. Do you think I would not know the most infamous man to roam this pleasure palace?"
"Well, since you know who I am, might you return the favour of telling me your name?"
"I don't think so. Please get out of here before I tell the Doge's guards to escort you out."
She had been entertaining a certain distinguished guest of the Doge's who just returned from his travels in the exotic Byzantium. He certainly learned a lot of innovative and physically demanding lovemaking skills from his far-off sojourns. Hence, she was now thoroughly exasperated.
What looked to be an easy riddance was now taking way too much time. She reminded herself that getting the much-needed sleep in this palazzo was never too easy.
Trying to understand why he had never seen this blond before, he frowned. "Wait a minute. This is not fair. Such a - " glancing down at her body to give it a full once-over, " - such a beautiful and seemingly smart woman as you should never disregard my patronage, because I can provide you with wealth beyond your imagination ..."
"I don't need your money, nor your condescending self. Leave, before I can spill any of your secrets that you might not want others to know."
Sensing a challenge, he replied: "Well, well, what have we here? A cold-hearted blond who thinks that she could disarm me, Endymion."
"Yes, I can, Endymion Cavalli, I know who you are…"
Slyly, she added, "Or should I dare address you as, say, Darien?"
He was glancing at how well her body fit the rich fabrics, at how the cleavage of the dress accentuated her breasts … but at sound of the name, Endymion looked up sharply and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown.
"What did you just say?"
"I said, Darien, you better get out of here before I utter any more of your secrets."
Wide eyed, he exclaimed, with a suddenly hoarse voice: "But, but ... just who are you?"
Francesca turned to him sharply, a bit confused: "Darling ... what sort of name is that? You're Endy, right? ... She's ..."
"Leave this room, Franni, I'll deal with you later. I'll come find you after I talk to this - woman."
Francesca gladly took the advice and ran out, leaving a room filled with a tense atmosphere behind.
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Please review! Thanks
Note: I try to be accurate in my portrayal of Renaissance Italy as much as possible (even though this is a fictional account). Also, I've been to Venice, a city close to my heart. Thus, for all the facts, I credit other sources; and for all the mistakes, they are entirely mine to blame. (If a fact does not hinder the narrative, I would usually not alter it.) - Secret Heart
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