A TEVINTER FARM OUTSIDE OF A LYRIUM TRADE HUB VILLAGE - TWO DAYS LATER.
Hard to believe any man would run from her as she strode up to him naked... let alone an entire squad of men,
running for their lives - good thing she prefered girls - it might have hurt her feelings; poor, sweet, darling Lilith.
Was it something she said? A look she gave? The fact she just turned back from a High Dragon three times the size of this Tevinter village after eating the head Tevinter High Magister in charge of the district and decimating the rest of the standing army in the region? But that was so three minutes ago! Now she just wanted a little information; to ask directions; basically to drink several quarts of Tevinter red... and no one wanted to help a girl out! - men.
She smiled as the remaining twelve soldiers tried to scale the wall of the fortifications that the terrified villagers had locked down as she wreaked havoc on their forces. Funny, but they needn't have bothered. She was not going to destroy the village, nor harm any homes or civilians; and to be honest, had no interest or desire in killing any more soldiers. This wasn't so much about the conquest of the Imperium, as it was about punishment of and the subjugation of the blood Magisters: the cabal responsible for the slave trade, the fear of mages, and believed to be conspiring to take over the minds of all of Thedas ruling families.
Her and her brother found them so reprehensible, so perfectly representative of what was wrong with Thedas, that they made the perfect target to be made the perfect, unforgettable example of. The fact it was two malificars destroying them was ironic, but, well, perfect; her mother's deepest wish was coming true... justice, and freedom for all. It just needed a little dramatic push. So, her and her brother were going to destroy the Blood Magisters utterly... and she was going to look good doing it. She just needed some new clothes, preferably silk. The High Magister had a memory relating to a shop nearby that had just her taste... STRAPLESS!- she was almost giddy. Her problem was he was digested before she could get a good idea where it was. However there were plenty of fleeing soldiers who could help her; if they would just stop screaming.
The High Magister had been a lifelong practitioner of the force school - a master, really, after sixty years of study... now Lilith was. She pulled them all together, using the art, the panic in their collective faces almost amused her - till it worked. They slammed together, breaking bones, fracturing their skulls, knocking most of them out. Surprisingly some of them still moved, so, she lifted the mass of them up into the air and brought them down; regrettably, too hard: she had crushing them into the ground, leaving not a living soul among them; therefore, not one drop of living blood. She had not ment to be so brutal... so like a Tevinter. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be," a soft, comforting, strangely familiar, male voice said from just behind her as a plain cloak was placed about her naked shoulders, "They may not have been Magisters, but they were far less than kind."
She glanced at the hands on her shoulders: strong, yet gentle; his touch was remarkably scintillating; and she suddenly felt as if she was now wearing too much clothing. She lowered the cloak from her shoulders, clutched it midway down her upper arms so that her breasts bunched together alluringly; smiled playfully, and turned to him.
He was tall, handsome, half elf, half human, and a flawless example of both in both the beauty of his eyes and the arousing grace of his long, finely muscled limbs.
"Hello," she sighed.
He gazed at her with such confidence, such playful mischief, such unrestrained passion and mystery. He took her breath away.
"I," she sighed as her hesitant breath returned to her, and her skin became flushed, "I... thank you," she let the cloak fall, 'innocently' from her arm to her elbow, giving him a glimpse of more of her ample breast before adjusting it back up to her shoulder. She felt humble before him, and wanted him to think well her for some reason. It was both troubling, as she never felt obliged to appease a man before, and yet, he excited her passion as his hands moved gently over the naked skin of her bare arms without once making her feel anything but aroused by it. He knew her... from somewhere she could not recall, but once remembered, she would never there leave again - perhaps somewhere in a dream. "I still, didn't have to kill them all. They were just soldiers. My father was a soldier. Are you a soldier?" She was confused, wondrously caught off-balance by him.
"No," he said, and smiled warmly, "I'm just a common farmer, and a poor one at that; well, in terms of gold:
they don't trade with Elves or even half-elves here; and the Dahlish don't trade at all with what they call 'half-shems'."
"Fools," she sighed as her eyes lingered in the warmth issuing from his, "Firstly there is NOTHING common about you, and only fools judge others by where they come from and from who they are issued. However, what 'they' do and don't do around here is about to change - profoundly; as will 'they'."
He smiled, the light in his eyes sending shivers through her body, as much as his touch; Maker she wanted him - more than any other lover... MADDENING!
She kissed his cheek. "I genuinely don't care about the answers to these questions," she started, "But... do you like Orlea? and the Orleasian culture?"
"Oh," he said with a playful smile, "Are you a Countess? If so, I must say I love your wardrobe choices; and can honestly add that whatever part of Orlea you rule over... I am desperate to work the soil."
She smiled, then continued "Charming, but not an answer; I can see you learned the Tevinter native language of double speak fluently, and you work with the regional dialect of evasion very well; still, you've been too long in Tevinter. Now - answer me... please."
"I hail from Kirkwall... I've never been to Orlea, and forgive me, but you don't even have a Orleasian accent; I am trying to be careful... so as not to invoke your wrath... seems to be a safe choice, unless you want me to invoke it." He was clever; fascinating to her intellectually as well; an exquisite male in every way - and one who is not frightened by a high dragon.
She was slowly becoming warm, and very wet between her thighs, and parted the cloak slightly as she parted her full lips."My father is Aeden Cousland, and my mother is Morrigan, both are from Ferelden, and I was raised... elsewhere - but I love and live in Orlea." She gazed into his eyes, saw his passion for her light his soul till it ignited her own, fanned it.
"I have heard of your parents. I can see your mother's beauty in your eyes, your smile, the softness in your blushing skin, and if I served her as a willing slave... I couldn't thank her enough for giving birth to such an enchantress."
she smiled sweetly and blushed brighter, he was funny... just like her father. Then she became self-conscious, "I've done things... I've killed, many, and done worse to others. You seem a man of mercy and genuine gentility. I'm not worthy of your kindness, your friendship, your..."
He kissed her forehead, "I am no saint either," he sighed as his lips lingered against her skin, "and no man's martyr. You, by contrast are careful who you visit your wrath upon. I have the feeling if YOU killed someone - this world is far better for it?"
She smiled, and caressed his fingers, "I know your voice," she sighed softly, interlacing their fingers, "Where have we met? What is your name?, and don't lie...," she pricked his forefinger, drew blood, and raised it to her lips, "the future of untold generations of our family depend on it."
He looked intrigued, and more than a little scared. "In your dreams," he said with all sincerity as she sucked the blood from his finger, "My name is Feynriel. I have a gift: I can enter the fade at whim, un-harassed, unscathed, and enter the dreams of all I wish to. No demons or spirits harm or harass me. I entered yours at the behest of my master - my teacher. He wanted to know your plans, your secrets... but I fell in love with you first; so I lied. You ate him ten minutes ago."
She kissed his lips softly, deeply, gratefully, finally relenting when she needed to breath, "I'm convinced; and, in spite of my desire to reciprocate your desires... we need to wait. regrettably I need clothes... silk,preferably."
"Would strapless dresses appease you?" He asked needlessly, she knew he already knew the answer.
"You are so like my father," she sighed as she caressed his shoulders as she stepped behind him playfully, "He remembers important details of my mother. Lead on. Then you can follow me... well, meet me in the capital in about a week. I should have everything finalized regarding my ambitions. We will indulge ourselves, and you may then follow me to Orlea to meet my mother, and father; and we can see about your wardrobe, and career path." She kissed him once more, and opened her cloak, letting him caress her breasts and hips, "Mmmmm, you'll do in that regard," she moaned as she closed the cloak. "Now, you had a taste... want more?"
He smiled, and bowed.
"Lead on 'dream man', and be quick, the lives of the innocent depend on me getting there with haste... before my brother's friends. They tend to be less concerned with the difference between innocence and guilt than they are with achieving his present goals; and he too often get's distracted by his amusements to bring them to heel. So let us off. The sooner my needs are met, the sooner I can see to yours... hmmm, I mean ours. I wonder, have you ever serviced two women at once?"
"No," he gasped.
"Well, speak carefully of the Seekers and you may well get your chance"
