Chapter Text
Cold.
Dark.
Hazy.
The chilling wind of the midnight moon began to surge against the thicker spans of the forest, the leaves dancing in a disorienting cacophony and the branches creaking with such daunting melody, and the trees howling and whipping against the raging tempest. Even the animals were frightened by the continuous snapping of twigs from everywhere; deers beginning to bolt from all directions, the wolves ditching away from their ambush areas to flee back to their dens, even owls had to take refuge in the nests of the hawks, and no fighting was ensued between the winged predators.
All the while, a woman had sprinted deep into the forest, her breaths pained and heaving from the strenuous hours of endless running. Her cape, which was bestowed upon her in a prestigious and prosperous nation, was snagged by a sharp branch in the midst of her careless run – tearing a part of the clothing in the collarbone area, and slashing that part of her body in the process, blood washing down at an alarming rate – leaving her long-sleeved shirt to shield herself from letting her blood drip down on the ground.
It was times like these that her nature as a dual heraldry between a royal demon and a grand witch would have been an advantage to her, as the wound would have begun to close and heal itself in more than the blink of an eye.
If only she was not being cursed and stripped off of her powers by a certain someone. And now the blood was so much as a part of her body, both in and out – adorning her chest with a daunting sight, her shirt also being stained just further exacerbating it. Even her jet-black hair was dazzled with her crimson life-force, her horns glowing intensely in a bright blue in attuning to her emotions.
But even so, she ran. Ran all the way from the nation, that she swore her life to protect, to just... anywhere. She really had no place to hide away from her pursuers, what with their vast manpower and a large web of spies lurking anywhere and everywhere all hell-bent on chasing her down.
It was such a ludicrous situation, honestly. From all her years of bloody and unquestionable service to the Bloodflame Monarchy, all it took was just her entering her quarters – where apparently the queen of the Monarchy herself was present, and then the discovering of the royal bloodline's darkest secret, and the reason why the demon had fled out of her sworn nation-
She released a shocked gasp as she felt a sudden burst of wind pushing her from her back, quickly stopping and turning around. And as if that was not startling enough, the entirety of the forest was completely silenced by something or someone, even the animals no longer made any sound, the once-brutal winds were thwarted off into an eerie lull.
Her breaths were loud, heavy and shaking. She was hyperventilating, either from the hours of running rapidly draining her energy or the slithering grip of fear to her chest, she could not tell which. Her eyes were frantic, clumsy and delirious from fatigue – unable to properly look and focus on anything clear beyond her surroundings.
She mistakenly hissed aloud in pain from the wound in her collarbone – it was growing more and more painful, her pain tolerance drastically diminished to all but vanished into utter vulnerability to pain from the absence of her powers. She was essentially a fresh prey from all the blood spewing out of her, and to make her presence known from her voice would just be asking to get caught. She drew closer to a bush and plucked a handful of leaves from it, before she hissed as she pushed them deep into the wound. She did not care whether or not they were poisonous or not, she had to stop the bleeding in some way.
But some of the leaves had their ends press rather deeply in the wound, the Lady's mouth bemoaning in almost-screeching pain from the pressure, biting her lips in an effort to conceal herself.
What a mistake to make.
She could have opted to hide behind a tree or something, maybe even hide inside it if she could. But this pursuer would not be so easily fooled; would not be so easily avoided, their senses so heightened to even surpass unnatural limits that the simple notion of hiding would be all but useless.
Might as well stand her ground and fight back as much as she could, if she must.
Not that ever she ever would, regardless of the circumstances.
And then, lo and behold.
"There you are."
Her throat released a gasp of fright once again, fear and dread now clutching her being with a much greater force than before. It was time.
Her pursuer had finally reached her.
Out from the shadowed blanket of darkness and the ephemeral glow of the moon emerged a woman of such regal dominance; with blood-red color of a hair cascading down requiring just a little more growth to cover the floor – like a crimson waterfall crowning the most steadfastness of stones standing strong. The nails were retracting between short bluntness and elongated pointedness, a terrifying dilemma on whether to asphyxiate or desecrate. And the clothes that roared royalty and authority, shrouded only by the long cape that had the same designs as the wounded woman's – only that it was embroidered with royal tapestry and rich history.
And the eyes...
In her deepest and darkest fantasies that she had ever fabricated, she would always imagine herself drowning in those inexhaustible and deeper pools and basking herself in her emotions for all of eternity, with nothing to hold her back and nothing else to fear, her emotions reciprocated, returned with a world-fold of emotions, and her heart accepted with the warmest and most welcome of embraces from the woman before her, and those eyes gazing at her with naught but love and passion as that of a fervent half of her life.
If only fear would not have gripped at her being to grant such a desire.
Eyes with the hypnotizing illumination of a bloody scarlet, the eyes that did not speak, but commanded. And her pursuer's gaze was not concealed as eyes were fixed towards what was prevalent at most: glaring at the bloody mess that was the wounded collarbone with such magnitude that it would have burned, if willed to. She felt undeserved to ever have these emotions within her from the attention that she was having, undeserved that she was given such undivided attention by the Flame of her Melody. Such eyes were everything better and more in comparison to her own reddish-violet eyes that was once steeled in discipline in battles and wars – now rendered stricken with trepidation and turmoil at the sight of the one whom she fled away from.
"My Queen..."
The person in question had to tear off the staring at the mess and the eyes raised to meet hers, the emotions that were blatantly conspicuous just seconds ago now appeared to have mostly vanished-
Oh. Oh.
She stood corrected, without the shadow of a doubt, because the woman before her was now beginning to shake from what could possibly be emotions on the brink of exploding, the woman's expressions now back in full swing and even more so the longer they stared at each other.
When the Queen spoke, that voice was trying desperately to hold itself together, trying to thwart those overwhelming and crashing emotions threatening to break the tone of command.
"The audacious willpower in you to flee yourself away in fear, to turn your back on me rather than to face me with bravery and dignity... you have sullied your mantle as my subject, Lady Ravencroft."
...
...
There was silence between them; a pained silence and a very tense one, at that, that made the Lady visibly wince and recoil from her Elizabeth's words. Perhaps Elizabeth had seen how exactly Nerissa was faring because the Queen was silent whilst the Lady's eyes were beginning to blur; thick emotions gathering around her sockets as each drop and rivers of silver began to flow down her fair and pristine cheeks, like newly-carved rivers finding their way down to connect with the ground down below, her head dipped down in shame and deserving of punishment, with no kinds of excuses being conjured in her mind to spare herself with whatever was left of her dignity to protect.
But she knew deep down that she would rather drown in the merciless yet unbiased flames of the underworld than to ever disappoint the Scarlet of her darkness.
But yet, she did exactly that.
And it hurt. It hurt terribly, and not just because of her wounds.
She was now trembling, the pain growing worse by the second that the blood was starting to seep out of the now-bathed leaves, her sight getting more blurry. It could be agreed upon that it was nothing short of a miracle that she was still of somewhat clear of mind and judgment, her bloody condition notwithstanding. It was simply that daunting of a condition that she was in.
And those crimson eyes were immediately drawn back to the streaming blood from her collarbone once again, even switching to the blood smearing on her lips; eyes that were rapidly losing their battle of control against... urges within that gaze.
But still, Lady Ravencroft had to speak to the Queen, she must. Not just because she was her Queen. As regardless of any reason she had to postpone her inevitable fate, this was still the monarchial Queen that she served, both in life and death, and the one who was to deliver the final judgment upon her fate.
Otherwise, she would have fought back and pulverized anyone else that was not her Queen.
But as she opened her mouth to speak, her throat was hoarse; no words were uttered in her mouth, wheezing from too much power of fear gripping her without quarter.
And it made those tears muster up in even greater numbers. She truly did not mean to ignore her Queen like this, to deprive her of a response from her.
Out of sheer exhaustion she felt herself collapse on the spot, her condition no longer making the situation turned to her favor whatsoever anymore as her feet buckled and shook before they were falling down slowly rather than immediately so – a brief display of resilience and perseverance that Nerissa groaned softly from avoiding another disappointment ever surfacing in the woman in front of her.
Because if she were to black out before the Queen, to truly disappoint her without any means of redeeming herself, she would be taken back to Great Exardia captive as a humiliating prisoner, remembered only as a disgraceful and shameful sight instead of her glories and accomplishments throughout her life.
Her beloved Queen, Elizabeth, would also remember her as such.
At that thought, Nerissa lost the battle of endurance against her mind and lost her strength to hold herself. Her eyes were slowly closing, and her horns were brightening and dimming in an irregular interval.
Within the mere blink of an eye, the Queen exploded into numerous forms of bats and surged fast with blinding speed towards the woman about to collapse – before transforming back to her human form, and holding the Lady firmly; her arm snaking around the Lady's lower back and the other gently gripping the wrist (with Elizabeth absentmindedly thinking of their position being closely mirrored to that of the pose of the dip of a dance).
From the sudden closeness between herself and the Queen had Nerissa regain some strength back to her body, and from how the Lady expected the woman's look to be that of disgust was unexpectedly that of great longing and desire in those shaking eyes – silently shocking her from such a sight. She did not even miss the descending of the Queen's gaze to the wound once more then next drawn to her lips.
While the Monarch had always endeavored to be tempered with composure and regality, Ravencroft was not so foolish to not notice that the Queen was barely controlling herself, restricting herself from giving in to her (newly-discovered) nature.
The Lady knew of this woman at heart, and there would be naught a part nor reaction be left unnoticed by her attention, albeit hazy at most.
Invigorated by this unprecedented revelation, and quite definitely feeling emboldened and daring from it, Ravencroft decided to throw every caution and resistance out of the window, her horns glowing in agreement. If her fate was now sealed in the annals of history, she might as well accept it in such a way that the eras to follow would remember her – not for her wrongdoings, but for what she would do next.
She slowly raised her hand close to the Queen's face, testing her whether or not the intention was clear. Upon seeing the sight of confusion in the monarch's features – taking it as a sign that her plan was still unknown – Ravencroft slowly and deftly placed her palm to the Queen's cheek, caressing it with such ghostly gentleness.
The Queen let out a subtle and almost-missed gasp of surprise, the Lady's attention and senses now sent to a shot of full throttle and not leaving the sight of the Queen.
Her The Queen commanded.
"Nerissa... tell me as to whatever more plans you intend to enact upon me before your awaiting judgment."
And her Lady would always answer.
"My body and blood," she softly speaks to her, her voice still unable to speak aloud, the fullness of the light of the moon illuminating the Lady with an ethereal glow of herself, and the Queen herself nothing short of an otherworldly beauty with a blanket of light and shadow.
"In death, as in life, I shall honor you, My Queen. Now and forever, and since then from a time forlorn and yearning."
And to further intensify her resolve, Nerissa gently pulled the Queen from the neck closer to her wound, the other woman's shaking and shallow breaths hot and steaming against her own trembling body – and then with a critical blow of gesture, she caressed the Queen's neck with something so close to a loving pace: unhurried, savoring, and passionate; the Lady's eyes closing for a moment to truly burn every sensation deep into her bones and memories.
But let us backtrack a bit.
While such an act like the Lady drawing the Queen closer to the wound might appear to be unsightly and may even be filthy in the eyes of many outsiders, this was the greatest show of submission in every warrior of Great Exardia: to surrender one's entire body and blood to the Bloodflames – to behold one's weaknesses before the Monarchy, for only in death did a warrior's duty truly end.
But the Lady's show submission was such so for a tad bit of a... different kind.
And the Queen, with all name and right earned to hold such a mantle, ruler of a vast and powerful empire and untold numbers of people under her banner, knew of the message veiled and her expression screamed that she had now lost herself to her desires.
Never let it be said that Nerissa did not reciprocate those desires.
Raising her hand from the Lady's arm and drawing it closer just above the Lady's collarbone, the Queen unleashed a flicker of red and blue flames from her fingers to the wound – engulfing the stained leaves and dirt to nothing. Nerissa was familiar with that flame-
No, she mentally shook her head, as she was more than familiar with it – she felt intimate with it.
This flame was an ancient power passed down through the royal bloodline lineages of the Bloodflames, its purpose being to cleanse any and all traces of filth and disease it would burn through in many wounds – then healing those wounds altogether. But the flame was supposed to be formless; birthed no colors to symbolize its existence in the monarchy. This was due to the capacity of the flame's power to fulfill its efforts being diminished the longer it was cast, and even more so if given colors – as at that point, it would include one's mental capacity to control the vividness and purity of the flame itself, alongside the physical capacity to bolster the strength of the flame, and the magical capacity to cast the flame for a very lengthy span of time.
The colors came to be after Nerissa once made an afterthought suggestion as to the coloring of the flame's purpose, back when the Queen was still a Princess serving in the battle lines – in the means that Elizabeth would not mistake her flame for something else (though in hindsight, Nerissa would be filled with embarrassment every time she would recall that memory).
It appeared that the Queen held the Lady's words in great regard, Nerissa believed.
"My Lady Bloodflame, if I may, might you be interested in changing the colors of your flame?"
The youthful Princess of Bloodflame looked at the young commander, curiosity and wonder painting her looks, "Whatever for, Commander?"
"In the hopes that you would grant it a purpose proper and meaningful, like to gift for a maiden a beautiful rose, to bless the flame a name and heraldry for every time she desires to cast it to its greatest expression."
The princess was still confused, and if the flushes on both of her and Nerissa's cheeks fulfilling her namesake were there, neither of the two made a comment on it, but she did her best to entertain this spontaneous idea of her Commander's,
"Very well, then. If I had asked you as to your preferred colors of choice, what would those be?"
The answer was expectedly immediate, "My choice is void of any value to the Princess's-"
And so she halted her, preparing to do so in advance.
"I order you, Commander Ravencroft, to regale me as to your preferred colors of my flame."
She might have been mistaken or perhaps was just sensing the unknown, but she could have sworn that she heard her Commander squirmed.
"...red and blue, my Lady," Nerissa spoke so softly, almost whispering, a much brighter dash of scarlet flushing her cheeks once again as she averted her eyes from the Princess. She mentally screamed in her head, she hoped that her Lady didn't hear such an outrageous choice, such an upfront and suggestive thing to even implicate.
But the Princess did hear of it, and her smile was growing wider as it was laced with tease in the form of innocence whilst walking towards the Commander with a... Nerissa blushed even harder when she took a risk of looking back, as the Princess was walking like she wanted the blushing woman to stare at her hips and bouncing chest, before Nerissa looked away again.
"Oh? And for whatever reason do you stand on for choosing those two colors, Commander?"
At this point, the Princess knew, the Commander's eyes looking anywhere but the Princess's. Well, she did know the first instance that the commander's eyes were not exactly being subtle with their gaze upon her form from their first meeting. But now this one just solidified her thoughts, reading enough novels and listening to enough poetries to know where her Nerissa Ravencroft was heading to, what she was feeling.
And so she could not help herself but to tease this adorable Commander of hers for every chance she could get, away from the prying eyes of the people.
The Mommander must have been getting bashful from such a question of hers, if the silence was anything to go by.
"Well, commander? My eyes and ears are still upon you."
Nerissa had to blink multiple times, trying her best to calm her panic heart. She failed to hide her words from Lady Bloodflame, so the least she could do would be to dignify them both with an answer.
She looked back at the Princess slowly, a gaze that took the Princess aback from such vulnerability – so shockingly soft with emotions so palpably unspoken, the Commander's devotion and loyalty to her nation and the Monarchy unquestioned, yet rendered hopeless to doubt upon her feelings for the divine and regal woman before her – a lifetime of servitude unto the anvil of war unworthy to sully the sanctity of the sacred and divine, a voice of such delicate and fragile trembles and a tone of desperation and silent pining.
"...I wish for you to remember me in everything that we have done and will do in the future, the colors of our worlds intertwined as one to paint our presence for each other, and with them the flame that which you wield ignited with my memories to accompany you, my name and life to stand beside you, even when I no longer am."
'My Queen actually honored my words...' Lady Ravencroft gasped softly, her gaze fixated on the colorful flame encasing her chest with a calming burn of silent emotions in them.
Yet while indeed the Queen was casting the flame upon her, she noticed that the wound was yet to have healed, and blood was still trickling down.
Her tears again began to well up and grimaced in understanding. Yes, this was so she would atone for what she had done. With the truth that the Queen even cleansed her wounds of anything infectious was already a most generous act she certainly did not deserve to receive.
She closed her eyes and internally wept in silence. This was not the way she had intended to pass on. There was still so much to do, so much to convey, so much to confess, all to the woman before her. She dared to look at the monarch once again, now even more determined and adamant to remember every spent together with this woman.
Only to see that the Queen had set her eyes on the Lady the entire time, the thought of drawing her gaze away from the Lady not even once entertained in any slightest.
The Queen had been patient with this doubtful yet passionate Lady of hers, truly she had been so painfully patient. But the emotions were getting the better of her; it was understandable that Nerissa would be stricken sick upon the most audacious notion that she could even claim a literal monarch – what with all the stark differences of social standings between each other present there – but Elizabeth had thought that the Lady's feelings were reciprocated, perhaps her own feelings for Nerissa even much stronger, dare she'd say.
Yet still, why must Nerissa hurt her in such a way? Was she that cruel to even hurt her Queen? Had her feelings for her begun to wane over time? Was she... frolicking around with other people when Elizabeth wasn't with her?
No...
No.
No.
That's absolutely unacceptable.
Imbued with a rising wave of jealousy, she hoisted Nerissa almost upright from the waist and without any warning, she dived straight into the other side of the Lady's collarbone – flashing her sharp and pointed canines at the frightened Lady, and bit the skin on her clavicle hard. Not exactly sucking blood out, no, not yet. This was just a venting of her riled-up temper.
To remind her beloved Lady that she belonged to the Queen, always.
And Lady Ravencroft gasped, trying to will herself to show any kind of resistance from the sudden onslaught, trying to at least wiggle herself away from the woman, trying to make sense of the sudden outburst – like what was happening? What brought the Queen to suddenly act like this?
But any heavy movement made from the Lady was rendered tumultuously difficult, her strength waning fast from the wound that was yet to have closed and the rapid loss of blood contributing greatly to the mix. At least the leaves from earlier proved to somewhat seal the nasty gash – but just like the raging waves destroying a feeble dam, the blood had managed to have breached through the natural sealants in no time. And with nothing to block the wound, it felt like she was a balloon slowly deflating down.
Out of nowhere, she felt a hand slowly creeping up her nape, then gripped a handful of hair by the roots – and with another shocked gasp, she was now facing up straight at those shaking yet darkening crimson eyes, her pale and glistening neck laid bare before the Queen.
"You will not set your foot away from me, Nerissa. Not then, not now, not ever," Elizabeth's voice was shaky, desperate, a voice so vulnerable and raw, so undeniably laced with great emotion that it brought waves of undeserved desire within Nerissa. Her face must have given her emotions away if the Queen's cheeks adorned with blushes of scarlet were anything to indicate.
The Queen then looked at the wound, before her eyes pulsated and ignited in red and blue – the gash instantly closed and healed in no time. It was not before the Lady was healed that Elizabeth's eyes began to glow in a different pair of colors – ultramarine and ebony.
They were the essences of Nerissa's nature of royal demon and ancient witch heraldry. Elizabeth drew closer to the woman until their foreheads touched, closing their eyes as they both savor each other's warmth in the midst of this sudden turn of events, the flames in her eyes being siphoned through to the Lady – even igniting the Lady's body with the most treasured and inseparable blue flame on the Queen's chest to help bolster Nerissa's immediate recovery.
Ravencroft gasped as she focused intently on her senses to relish the feeling, strength and life now slowly returning to every bone and muscle, to every blood and marrow, and to every vessel and organ. It felt she had been drowning the whole time, now with her powers back she felt truly lighter than ever before.
She took her moments to take deep breaths, focusing on her body to re-accommodate her essences. It was until a good few minutes later when she opened her eyes, that she took a gander to look at her Queen – and her breath was taken away for what appeared to be the umpteenth time, for she knew of that look.
The Queen was kind, but tonight she was a beast.
"For too long have I waited for the day that you took up the courage to take me as yours, to have us both venture forth to the lands and waters beyond with the heavens and hells as our witnesses, with me by your side for eternity to tread. For too long have I waited, no longer."
Elizabeth's eyes began to glow bright – her fiery hair following suit, before she slowly descended to just above the Lady's neck, opening her mouth before it and her fangs gleaming with sharpened want and unhidden intent.
"You have done so much for me, so much and so much more, your loyalty and service to Exardia without question, your devotion and passion for me unbridled and turbulent unlike any other. Your heart and words of confession to me and my flame once laid bare before me beneath the light of the moon from a long time past, yet shackled by fear and doubt of your worth to claim me as yours. No more, I say, that you be held captive by such matters."
Nerissa felt the woman kissing her neck with such gentleness and she trembled, the sensation so ghostly yet stimulating, and was so given from how terrifically heightened the suddenly-fast returning of her powers.
"I beseech you, my melody, to allow your heart to accept me as yours, for you have been mine ever since."
Nerissa whimpered as she could taste the Queen's desperation in that nickname, the dripping desire unveiled for her to sense and absorb.
And she could not stop another whimper from being released in time. But the Queen was correct. She always was. She could never find herself to wrong her Queen even if she could. She had come this far, she had reached through this stage of life. She must not be hindered by her fears and doubts now; Elizabeth must know of the great mountain that was her emotions and desires – to stop at this point would be to simply punish her by being deprived of her Queen.
So she laid a hand to Elizabeth's cheek, her voice soft – she was whispering, still unable to to louden her voice,
"I offer my body and heart, soul and spirit to you, my Queen. Fate be damned if I were to be denied of you the moment I wake up on the morrow, that I see naught of you but myself and my broken heart," she raised her free hand to pull the bloodied side of the collar of her shirt downward – exposing her wounded neck before her Elizabeth.
"I wholeheartedly accept to take you as mine. As I have borne arms in your name throughout my life, I now reach forth to your body and cradle your heart, as the same you will do to me as I lay my entire being bare for you to take."
She pulled Elizabeth closer to her neck, the proximity so close such that their breasts were pressed together and the Queen could bite the Lady's neck, if she so wished – the Lady's expression no different from a burning scarlet as her eyes were misty from the overflowing of hidden emotions finally making their way out.
"But please, m-my love... I grow more desperate upon my desire of your claim and mark on me as yours. Lavish me and take me as yours with great abandon- ah!"
Elizabeth did not even let Nerissa finish talking, feeling delightfully and utterly elated for the courage of her Lady being manifested. Her eyes began to glow even brighter as she honored her beloved's words and sank her teeth on the neck, and sucked.
The effects of her vampiric prowess for every time she fed was not actually painful, contrary to popular belief. In fact, it would verily much stimulate the victim past levels of pleasure considered unbelievable – an incredibly powerful aphrodisiac, in other words.
But Elizabeth had monumentally and adamantly abstained herself from laying her fangs in people other than Nerissa, for she believed that to lay her fangs in flesh would mean a mark of bond between one another.
And as for her Nerissa?
As far as the Queen was concerned she was now Nerissa's, now and forever, just as the same as the Lady being now finally hers. And those pieces of truth got the Queen act with such frenzied fervor.
And case in point, Lady Ravencroft could no longer even stop her moans from being restrained within in time, the Queen's approach so abrupt she was unable to mentally prepare herself for this dance of passion. It was so good. It felt so good. She never thought that being bitten by a vampire felt so desiring.
And from how everything had been turning out, if anything Nerissa was growing more and more fervent and expressive than ever before:
She left the maintaining of her balance to her Queen as she snaked her hand on its way down Elizabeth's body, from a bold grope to the chest out of temptation and a reward of a muffled moan; from sliding down the side as it elicited a shiver within the body, and moving down until it was perched in a tight squeeze of the supple derriere, kneading and sliding far back until her middle finger slid into the hole.
"Mmphmm~"
The reward was truly a most treasuring thing to ever receive, Nerissa believed.
However then, her mind had foolishly wandered into an unpleasant thought.
Let it not be said that Nerissa was not immune to the sheer force of her mind thinking past the most minute details regarding anything and everything, how her mind would orchestrate that which held the potential of ever happening; her mind that suddenly spoke for the fiery pits of the infernos below and corrupted the flame of pining inside her, as knowing how enchanting and mysterious Elizabeth was, how beautiful and enigmatic Elizabeth was...
...had her Queen been doing such an act to other people when she was still stricken with doubt and fear? Had her Queen slept with them under the light of every passing moon? Were any of them... more enchanting and precious than her, were more vigorous in the dances of passion and pleasure?
No.
No!
Filled with such jealous indignation and another wave of tears that needed not her permission to flow, the hand that was in the Queen's hole began to pump rather deeply, eliciting even more muffled music in her ears. It was a bit difficult to do her ministrations, considering that Elizabeth was still in her neck, but still she willed herself, the universe be damned.
Because even though she had taken Elizabeth as hers, even though she had made her vow to be the Queen's, even though she would serve her ever more than before when she was yet to be hers, even though she was firm and faithful with her words...
If anything, the sheer strength that her demonic mind wielded had a terrifying penchant of orchestrating in such ways that would lay low even the most adamant of souls.
Elizabeth moaned yet muffled so in surprise from the sudden change of speed, her senses still so honed-in on the Lady that the speedy intrusion inside her disrupted her own blissful and unaware world.
Then the Lady whispered close to the shell of her ear as she felt steaming breaths wafting out of the mouth, biting it ever so gently and licking it like it was the rarest of delicacies; a voice encased with a sensation of silk and velvet, and an onslaught of touches on her bosom and in her derriere from her Lady's hands, her beloved Ravencroft enchanted with the passion of a lusty lover.
"Let your mind be consumed by my body, my Elizabeth. Let my heart and love for you strip you off of the ability to think and walk, let my warmth envelop you thoroughly, and let my scent singe deep into your bones for time..."
Nerissa pressed Elizabeth even closer to her, their bosoms practically pressed against each other even more – the Lady's hand on the Queen's butt no longer staying subtle anymore, switching between kneading the luscious lump of flesh, pumping her finger inside, and slapping it to feel the ripple of fleshing like a rock upon water – eliciting a series of shameless whimpers from Elizabeth.
But the Queen ought to have the Lady know that she was nary someone to back out from a challenge, especially when it comes to her Nerissa's advances.
She slowly pulled her fangs away from the Lady's neck, the feeling of pulling something pleasurable away from a gaping hole rendering them moaning from the stimulus. She then licked the bitten area with gusto, her long forked tongue working on rubbing along skin and blood – the sight had the Lady faintly remember of her elder sister, who also had a tongue with the exact constitution.
And still Nerissa pushed on. She dipped her target a bit down to lick her Queen's neck, then bit it, sucked on it – anything that she could do to the woman, she was doing it.
And the reward was as truly beautiful as it was for her Queen.
"My love, resonate with me, do I please you so? Are you content with every corner of my body?" Nerissa moaned her words aloud, her voice now able to louden out a bit, trying to overwrite Elizabeth's mind into nothing but 'Nerissa, Nerissa, Nerissa.'
"Are you... elated to bask in your soul together with mine?"
Elizabeth looked Nerissa, and the Lady looked at the Queen. Their eyes so far darkened with lust and desire, their senses so heightened to beyond stimulating from a mere touch, and their hearts... oh how the gods above and below would have grown envious from the sheer depth of admiration and love between mortals with their fleeting and short-spanned lives, to long for such an experience to be free from the confines of blinking immortality.
"My Love..."
Elizabeth kissed Nerissa's bitten neck.
"My Lady..."
She kissed her jaw.
"My one..."
And her cheek.
"And only..."
Then her forehead.
"Shining star and melody of my flaming heart."
She looked at her straight in the eyes.
"My Nerissa, be mine for eternity."
And Elizabeth finally claimed Nerissa's lips, and now their emotions overflowing beyond reckoning that she could not settle with just kissing had finally thrashed through the confines as their lips were dancing with a scalding passion.
She tilted her neck such that she was able to thrust her tongue through the Lady's lips, the thick muscle circulating around every corner of her mouth – scooping out moan after moan from the overstimulated Lady.
The Queen had finally become relentless, and Nerissa was trying to establish her own feat of dominance in this dance, but it was not enough. It was never enough. And she would not have it any other way.
The Queen was in the midst of taking her, of marking her, and she was all the more gratified to be on the receiving end of this.
Still, her hands were not exactly idle either.
The other hand had finally made its presence known by resorting blatantly to finally grope Elizabeth's breasts without hiding. She was frustrated that the Queen's clothes were obstructing her from the supple flesh that awaited her, but that would not stop her. Like her other hand, she kneaded the breast through cloth as best as best as she could, intent on one-upping Elizabeth in their passionate dance.
It took some few minutes before they had to pull themselves away for much needed breaths, their pants hard and deep as they gasp in supplies of air in their bodies.
Eventually, Nerissa drew back closer to Elizabeth, kissing once again – only that this time, it was far much gentler yet no less precious for them both. She slowly pulled away, and looked at her with a smile so shining and a vow undaunted, her voice now restored to its stable volume, but still wanting to whisper in the most delicate of an atmosphere.
"I love you, Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame, more than you could ever fathom or even measure the depth of my life that is solely yours to reside. I have loved you since a time immemorial, and I shall love you ever more for a time perpetual."
And Elizabeth gave her a smile of her own that put Nerissa's to a blushing surrender.
"At last, you have spoken that which I have been waiting for."
She kissed her, deep yet softly.
"Now, let me show you my devotion for you, my love and passion that is solely for you,"
The Queen slotted a knee in-between the Lady's legs and pressed the aching core that was beyond drenched with nary anything to prevent it – and Nerissa gasped out a moan from the pressure below.
"My melodious star of my life, and my constellation through the nebula."
For even in direness, Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame will always love Nerissa Ravencroft.