The Daveniri (Gxg)

Chapter Two

Chapter 2

The air crackled with unspoken tension, as cold as Visenya's voice.

"Your Grace," she spat, the words dripping with icy disdain. 

Rhaenari's ears burned – a familiar blush of anxiety. Cleansed of her father's blood and that of countless others, the young lady stood before her.

Rhaenari's voice, a soft counterpoint to Visenya's harshness, barely registered above a whisper.

"Visenya," she murmured, turning to the younger woman.

The elegant gown Rhaenari had sent as a peace offering lay discarded. Visenya, stubbornly defiant, still wore her squire's roughspun clothes, her sword a constant, menacing presence. 

"As stubborn as ever," Rhaenari sighed, her gaze lingering on Visenya's impassive face.

This wasn't the expected groveling Rhaenari had anticipated.  Though she loved women, the half-nakedness of the situation felt wrong, somehow.

"It didn't feel appropriate," Visenya stated flatly, her tone devoid of remorse.  A wry smile touched Rhaenari's lips.

Clever girl.  She'd seen through the attempted seduction, understood the unspoken threat.  The gift had been a test, and Visenya had aced it.

"I see you value your dignity, Lady Visenya," Rhaenari said, closing the distance. 

"But... how can you refuse a royal order?"  She paused, letting the words hang heavy in the air. 

Her fingers gently cupped Visenya's cheek, tilting her face upward.  Visenya was tall, imposing, her eyes cold and unreadable. 

"Let's forget the dress," Rhaenari whispered, her voice husky. 

"I need comfort, not defiance."

Rhaenari kissed Visenya, a tentative gesture met with stiff resistance.  Unlike the passionate kisses she shared with Morven, this felt...empty.  Visenya's eyes stayed open, watching Rhaenari, a detached observer in this strange power play.

Ignoring Visenya's coldness, Rhaenari trailed kisses down her neck.  A subtle tremor ran through Visenya's body, a crack in her icy armor.  A predatory smile curved Rhaenari's lips. 

"I was wrong," she murmured against Visenya's skin.

"You're not as emotionless as I thought. You're... more."  A playful taunt slipped out.  "I thought you were just a dumb toy."

Before Rhaenari could savor the moment, Visenya's grip tightened on her arms, throwing her onto the bed with surprising force.

"I should go," Visenya said, her voice flat, emotionless. 

She left, leaving Rhaenari alone in the heavy silence, the scent of lilies a cruel reminder of the failed seduction.

"What was I expecting?" Rhaenari sighed, the sound lost in the vastness of the room. 

The weight of her actions settled heavily on her shoulders.  Visenya would undoubtedly see her as a cruel, perverse woman, someone who enjoyed inflicting pain.  That night, Rhaenari lay staring at the ceiling, her mind a whirlwind of regret and uncertainty.

The next morning brought no relief. The shadows of the previous night clung to her, threatening to transform her back into the cruel princess she once was.  A meeting with her sister, Rhagella, offered a brief respite. 

"You must be grieving, my dear sister," Rhagella said softly, her hand a comforting weight on Rhaenari's back.  "Don't forget us. We'll be here for you."

The words were a soothing balm, but the thought of Visenya, and the danger to Lorais, hardened Rhaenari's resolve.  She would break through Visenya's defenses, win her over, and save Lorais. 

"You too, my dear sister," Rhaenari replied, her voice regaining its strength. 

"How is brother?"  Their conversation flowed easily, a precious moment of sisterly warmth amidst the gathering storm.

Then, Morven.  The sight of her lover sent a blush creeping up Rhaenari's neck.

"Rhaenari..."

Morven's voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of knowing in her tone. 

"My lady," Rhaenari stammered, her cheeks burning. "I-I'm going." 

Rhagella's gaze was understanding, accepting. She knew, and for now, at least, she didn't seem to mind.

They found a hidden storage room and embraced, seeking comfort in each other.  Suddenly, Visenya bit Rhaenari's shoulder—a sharp, unexpected attack. Rhaenari gasped, her eyes flying shut.

"I heard what happened last night,"

Morven's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, laced with a hurt that went beyond simple jealousy.  Rhaenari froze, shocked by Morven's knowledge.

Morven didn't pull away.  Her lips remained on Rhaenari's shoulder, making it hard to speak. 

"It wasn't what you think,"

Rhaenari managed, her voice trembling. 

"You should have called me. I'm... upset."

A sigh escaped her lips, a sound of despair and helplessness.  She wasn't sure Morven would believe her, even if she told the truth.

Even if Morven believed her, running away was hopeless. Rhaenari felt it in her gut; escape was impossible. Morven, out of love, would surely suggest they flee, start a new life far from Visenya's reach.  That idea, once a lifeline, now felt like a cruel joke.  It was a tempting dream, a promise of safety, but Rhaenari knew better.  Past experience had taught her that such hopes were illusions, like mirages in a barren wasteland.

She'd tried to escape before, long ago, desperate to protect herself and those she cared for. That attempt ended in disaster, a brutal lesson in the futility of running from Visenya. The memory of that failure, the cold steel of a blade, the finality of death, haunted her.  Running again would mean the same fate, maybe worse.

"I'm sorry, my love," Rhaenari whispered, gently pulling Morven's face away.  "I'm doing this for both of us. If I don't, we'll end up dead, like my father."  A tear rolled down her cheek. 

"Why?"

"Don't you trust me, darling?"

Rhaenari whispered, her voice softer now, filled with a tenderness that belied her earlier anger. 

"Just like I trust you. This doesn't change anything. I'll love you forever, okay?" 

Their embrace deepened, a desperate clinging to each other in the face of the approaching storm.

"I'm sorry, my love," Rhaenari whispered. "I'm doing this for us. If I don't, we'll die like my father."  She reassured Morven of her love, and their intimacy resumed, unaware of unseen eyes watching their private moment.