The Balance Ch. 10-12

"Abiron, I have been thinking," she said. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and looking surprisingly vulnerable. "We are in a delicate situation. Prince Alan has told us that our relationship is not widely known. If it becomes known at the wrong time, it could turn opinion against us. You know that who we are and what we do is not accepted outside of our temple walls.

"I think that our relationship should remain secret."

Abiron rose from the chair where he had been sitting. He walked slowly to his wife and stood over her.

"No," he said.

"But Abiron..."

"No," his voice was tense with passion. "Do you not see? This is what our enemies would want. They would seek to divide us, to make us ashamed of who and what we are. To make us hide what defines us and brings us joy. Then, when the time is right, they would reveal their knowledge, make us shrink from what they would call a filthy, shameful secret. Call us degenerates and our desires perverse, rather than the blessing of the Deity. Then their purpose would be fulfilled. You have told me that we are in conflict, my lady wife. Would you have us surrender the first battle to the enemy?"

As he spoke these words, he drew closer and closer to Ariana. By the end, he was on his hands and knees, looming over his wife as she lay prone. He felt with joy the familiar heat in his groin, the first rush of blood to the head of his glans, so that it felt heavy and eager, making it surge toward fullness.

"Besides, my lady, once I have had you, do you think I would ever willingly let you go?

"You are mine. You are my wife and my mother, and I claim you for all time. No one will make me forsake you, or deny what we have found together," his mouth sought hers and he kissed her long and deep.

If he had been surprised by his own passion, Ariana's response stunned him. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him down to her where she lay. Her mouth devoured his, hot and wet,. Her tongue demanded entrance to his mouth, and plunged in stroking along his teeth. He tried to make answer with his own, but was rewarded with a sharp nip of her teeth along his lower lip.

This was a new side of Ariana. Relieved of the possible burden of re-enforced chastity, her lovemaking burned bright and fierce. Muttering dire threats against those who made clothes difficult to remove when necessary, she straddled Abiron, hands cupping his groin and stroking urgently while her other hand loosed the ties of her dress. That task done, she leaned down, presenting her breasts to his eager mouth. His hands rose and cupped her breasts, stoking her passion higher, but it was not wanted today.

"More," she growled, for she found his gentle hands an annoyance. His mouth opened and he suckled her right nipple, finding it turgid, hot and aching with passion, but again, that was not what she wanted today. Moaning with frustration, she came upright again, and ground her core down onto the rough fabric of his breeches, savoring the feel of the hard length of him through the fabric. At the same time, her hands came up to her nipples. Finding them both erect, she pinched them between her fingers, showing Abiron what she wanted today.

The bolt of shared pleasure and pain struck her center, and she moaned with desire and need. One hand still massaging her breast, the other found the ties of Abiron's breeches, rapidly undoing the barrier between her and his lovely cock. Once undone, she shoved the breeches down to his knees, freeing his manhood. She bent down to him, hands busy, freeing her of unnecessary clothing (and really, a giggling portion of her mind remarked, isn't all clothing unnecessary right now?). Taking her hint, his hands were rougher on her, his teeth scraping her nipples and his hands digging into her buttocks, nails lightly scoring her tender flesh.

"Yes, my love. That's the way," she moaned. Finally, finally! The last flimsy piece of cotton was freed, and she was able to impale herself on his phallus. Slick with desire, she sank onto him with a groan that was half a wail, tears of love forming at the corners of her eyes.

And stopped. Knees braced on either side of his hips, his manhood filling her, the proof of her desire slowly trickling lewdly down the inside of her thighs, she smiled down at him, taking in the wonder of his body and his eyes, still gentle for all the mock-fierceness of their lovemaking..

"I love you," she said. "You will never know how much I love you right now."

She placed a finger over his lips when he tried to respond. Slowly, she gathered herself. She rose a little, sank a little. Rose a little more, sank a little swifter. Her hands came up, locking around Abiron's wrists. She lowered her mouth to his, demanding attention. Her breasts scraped against the sparse hair of his chest, adding delightful friction to the pleasure she already felt. Soon her hips were bucking wildly atop his, feeding her higher into an unstoppable loop of passion.

Her orgasm came upon her, certain as the sunrise, unstoppable as a breaking wave. Her core clenched around Abiron's cock, and as she screamed her love into his mouth, she felt his body respond in the surest proof of his love for her, sending swift steams of seed into her womb.

Chapter 12

A matter of some hours later, they had availed themselves of the bathtub and had used the bed for its intended purpose. They also got some sleep. Dressing in clothes appropriate for the palace, but conservative in tone, they walked through the halls of the palace, preparing themselves for the days to come.

"Ariana, darling!" the words came from a corridor to the side. They turned to meet the source. A finely dressed woman walked quickly to meet them, a pair of guards trailing in her wake. She had Prince Alan's blue eyes and slender build, and her dark hair was threaded with silver.

"Cassiopeia!" Ariana turned and embraced her with a cry of joy.

"Wicked thing! Why didn't you write to tell me that you were finally returning to court?. Nothing but letters from you for years and here you show up unannounced and with this handsome lad on your arm. Is he...?" her voice trailed off.

"Queen Cassiopeia, may I have the great pleasure to introduce you to High Priest Abiron. Abiron, this is the queen, the wife of our lord King Benedictos, and my very good friend. I knew her well when I was at previously at court, short though that time was."

"Well met, my lady Queen."

"And well met to you, my lord High Priest," she smiled "Now that we have these tedious formalities out of the way, call me Cassie. Cassiopeia if you insist on being formal. Ariana, you are just too bad. I've wondered when I would be seeing him, and you descend on us without a word of warning, leaving me completely unprepared."

"If I had sent word, we would have outpaced it. You can put on the silly-queen act for the rest of the court, but I've known you since before you married Benedictos. You know why I am here."

Cassiopeia sighed. "Indeed I do. Well. I would love to get you and your handsome lad alone for a quiet chat so we can plan our strategy, but duty calls. Come with me. Seeing you in my presence should give pause to the jackals who would like to tear our kingdom apart."

Abiron was surprised by the change in Cassiopeia's voice. What had been a cheerful stream of prattle became hard as iron and as unforgiving. Obviously, Cassiopeia was an intelligent woman. One smart enough to put on a show for other members of the court, and wise enough to know when it would not do any good. Not to be surprising, he thought, reflecting back on Prince Alan's obvious intelligence. His estimates of the royal family rose a corresponding degree.

Ariana and Cassiopeia walked slowly through the halls of the palace, talking quietly of inconsequential things. Abiron, trailing a few steps behind, saw the wisdom of this. To arrive at their destination hurried and flustered would make observers realize they were worried. Putting on a nonchalant pose gave the impression of calmness and strength, confidence in their position.

They soon made their way to one of the lesser salons. It was a pleasantly appointed space, with frescoes on the walls. One showed the victory of the Battle of Pine Ridge, where Askelon had put down the last serious threat to his reign. Another showed a pastoral scene of rustic beauty, with the Deity in Their various guises assisting people in all the tasks that a kingdom required. It also had large windows, through which poured an abundance of winter sunlight.

"And who can we expect to meet here?" asked Abiron.

"Oh, this is a place to see and be seen. Anyone who thinks that they can advance their position will be here eventually. And some who can't, but can't bear to stay away." Her eyes swept the room, and her gaze hardened. "Some should not be here to begin with, and some should be removed from this palace by the scruff of their necks."

Abiron followed her glare, and soon saw the cause of her irritation. A slender girl, no more than fourteen years old, but with the manner and bearing of one born and bred to high rank, faced off against a man many years her elder. He was tall, and dressed in the robe of one of the Christian monks. His cowl was thrown back, and his head thrust forward aggressively, reminding Abiron of nothing more than a vicious bird, a pose accentuated by his long nose and thin cheeks.

"...and I say, sir, that your god, however mighty you may think him, does not compare to our Deity. What mighty deeds has he done lately? What miracles has he performed? Why should we bow and scrape before him, when our own Deity commands nothing more than love, and asks that we stand tall and proud before Them?" The young lady's voice was high and clear, and so like in tone that Abiron immediately took her for Cassiopeia's own daughter; or if not, one of her close kin.

"Wretched girl! Do not mock your god, for he will smite thee, and his punishment..."

"Will not fall upon me," the girl said calmly. "he is not my god. And what form could his punishment possibly take?" She paused for a moment while the monk sputtered, "Oh, I know," she said in a mocking tone that nearly drove Abiron into convulsions of mirth, "everlasting fire, am I right? Isn't that the torment you have devised for so many of our good lords and ladies at court? May I say, sir," and here her contempt was plain to see, "that your god is sadly lacking in originality. Fire and brimstone and torment unending have been a staple of all religions from the beginning of time. Tell me. What does he offer in trade? He asks for my worship, you demand that I submit to his rules. What is the reward? In secular terms," and here her eyes grew cunning, "what is in it for me?"

"Forgiveness."

"For what? Brother Ulf, I am a maid of only thirteen years. What terrible crimes do you think lie upon my soul?"

Abiron and Ariana watched the debate with interest. If this was, indeed, the daughter of the queen, she took a dangerous chance. Her skill could serve to discredit the newcomers, who would be mocked for losing a religious debate to a mere girl. But if she failed, it could serve as an impetus to those who opposed the crown. A small crowd had gathered by this time, and as if sensing that this was her time to strike, the young lady spoke again.

"I admit, sir, that when I was nine I once stole a tray of pastries from the kitchens. And when I was eleven, I snuck into my royal brother's rooms to watch him dally with a young lady of his acquaintance. However, that does not seem sufficient grounds for torment everlasting."

"It is not only your own sins that will be punished." Ulf's voice was harsh with anger and loathing. Against what, Abiron wondered? Against the threat to his religion, or to the young girl that dared question him? "The sin of disobedience falls upon all of Adam's descendants, and will until the end of days. For that alone is sufficient for damnation eternal, unless you submit to our Lord, Lady Hannah"

"Princess Hannah, if you please. And here we have an even greater mystery!" she cried to all those who had drawn near, the bit well and truly in her teeth by this time, and her eyes flashing in outrage. "A man may be condemned to everlasting torment, not for his crimes alone, but for those committed by an imaginary, yes, imaginary," she cried, her voice fierce with passion, "ancestor! In this land, Brother Ulf, we judge a man or woman by what he or she has done, not by what his mother or father or ninety-times fore-father may or may not have done."

"Oh, well done, child," came a voice at Abiron's elbow. He looked, and saw Ariana beside him, her face alight with admiration. "She is yours, is she not, my lady queen?" she asked Cassiopeia. "May I have her, when she is of age?"

"When you look upon her as a meal you would like to devour, I am not even sure in what way you purpose to have her," Cassiopeia replied wryly. "She is firm in her faith, it is true, but I am not sure she is for the temple, and my lord husband and I think she would be better suited as an advisor to Alan when his time comes. She has a mind like a blade, that can cut to the root of the issue in less time than it takes for a dozen counselors to even identify the problem. They will make a formidable team. At the treaty table, where the repercussions are greater than any that are felt on the battlefield, they will destroy their opposition, and leave their enemies wondering how it happened.

"As to the other, feel free. It is an honor and a privilege when one of Ariana's line takes one of ours to his or her bed. But you may get more than you bargained for. She knows her mind, that one, and is not afraid to let all know it. It might be Princess Hannah who runs the Great Temple, rather than High Priestess Ariana."

"You assume too much, Cassiopeia, and you misunderstand me," said Araina pleasantly. "It is not the skill of her tongue that interests me," she said with a wicked smile, "but rather the skill of her tongue." Abiron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and even Cassiopeia smiled.

As they discussed her future, Princess Hannah had continued the attack, "Our Deity is gracious, and she judges us as we are, not as our parents are, or our great-grandparents may have been. When I ask the Deity for her favor in cleaning a dirty smock or warming a tub or water, and that request is denied, I know the fault lies in myself, and not in what a long-dead ancestor may or may not have done." Upon saying this last, Hannah faltered, as if she thought she may have gone too far. And Ulf, sensing weakness, turned to the attack.

"So, you are able to warm a tub of water, just by mumbling a few words?" He smiled viciously, "What else can you do?"

Hannah looked around her, as if seeking escape. Her eyes were wide, "I can...I can find things that were lost. I can relieve pain if as person is hurt. I mean no ill by it, Brother Ulf."

"Of course you mean no ill by it," Ulf sneered. "That is what all your kind say. Tell me, what else do you do, witch?" He glared at the surrounding peers. "You hear it from her own lips. By foul craft she is able to do things that no mortal can, and she brags of her ability before you. Cravens! If this were my land, she would be put do death for witchcraft! But you are all so corrupted by this, this Deity," and here his voice turned thick with disgust, "that you turn you eyes away."

Abiron was beside himself with worry. Terrified lest the tide of the room turn against the princess entirely, he took a half step forward, only to be halted by an iron grip on his arm. He looked down to the face of Queen Cassiopeia. He tried to pull away from her, but her grip was unbreakable.

"Wait." she said.

He looked again at the tableau before him. On his right, was the small, slender form of the princess. Facing her, the tall, vulpine figure of Brother Ulf. Surrounding them, a circle of the great, the near-great, and those who only dreamed of being great. At first, Hannah seemed much the more fragile of the two. Her head was bowed as if in defeat and fear. Her hair, unbound, fell around her face, making her expression impossible to discern. Ulf loomed over her, preparing for what was to happen next. Would she fall to her knees in supplication? Would the gathered people turn on her, condemning her as Ulf so obviously wished?

She looked up. She was laughing.

"A witch! A witch!" she hooted, "May we burn her? Is this the forgiveness that your god offers? A girl finds a lost locket, or takes the pain away when an old man has the rheumatism, and you cast her to the wolves? Meanwhile, your Christ turns water into wine for a wedding (a worthy purpose, one must admit) and he is hailed as a miracle worker?

"Who shall answer this riddle for me, O my people? What wisdom can we draw from such blatant hypocrisy? What does this god offer that our own does not?"

In the crowd, a woman laughed, as unexpected and jarring as breaking glass.

"Love."