The Gathering Storm

by Amileigh D'Lecoire

  As if to at least ease the sting of her confinement, her powers had taken off once she’d hit the age of womanhood and gotten her cycles; as her Mother had predicted, exploring these powers was encouraged here rather than shunned. Melisande found she had a wide range of talents just waiting to be explored; she possessed an amazing ability to command the elements, had mastered the art of potions and herbs by the end of her first year, and only recently had found a new and exciting gift – the ability to reach into another’s thoughts and control them for a short time. Of course, this last gift she had decided to keep to herself, at least for now, until she could better understand its usefulness.

  In addition to all these things, Melisande had grown into such beauty that there were those who said even Venus herself would entertain more than a passing twinge of jealousy. She was tall, lean and strong, with smooth skin warmly tanned and flushed from the summer sun. Her hair was a shimmering sea of copper infused with gold, and her eyes had grown large and warm, much like her mothers, their color often changing between deep shades of blue to a dazzlingly bright green. Add to this a voice as rich and warm as honey, and it was no surprise that her counsel and company was the most requested by their local government.

  “There are those who would say beauty is a curse,” her mother had often said, and Melisande knew well now exactly what Perclusia had meant.

  Without even trying, Melisande’s beauty captivated and enthralled the men and – not surprisingly – even a few of the women. She had to work hard to keep from giving the wrong impression; it was death for a Vestal Virgin to forsake her vows and engage in any sort of sexual intercourse that resulted in the loss of her virtue. The problem was, Melisande’s very nature was sensual and hungry, so that it was a constant daily battle to resist the urge to give into her body’s most natural of desires and take a lover to her bed.

  Melisande pushed these unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind and petitioned them off. It did her no kindness to dwell on them, for even though she had been given no choice and forced into service by the King, still she loved life and living and had no desire to be publicly beaten and buried alive.

  In the distance the city’s bells began to sound, and Melisande could feel the population respond to the call as a newly arrived fleet of Merchant ships approached the harbor. Good, she thought with a small smile of satisfaction. This meant that her sister-priestess Aurora would be called to bless the goods and then sit by as tribute was paid, to make record. She would be away until well in the night, and Melisande would be free of her often over-bearing need to be involved in Melisande’s affairs. As if on cue, Aurora appeared at the top of the large marble stairway that lead to their private apartments on the second level. She was as pale as Melisande was tanned, with long, ebony hair as fine as silk that she wore in a single braid down the length of her back. Her face lit up when she saw Melisande, and Melisande forced herself to smile in return.

  “Would you join me, Melisande? I’m told that today’s ships bring treasures and spices from the middle east. There are sure to be some lovely silks and perfumes that we could put to good use, as well.” Her smile was fresh and excited, and Melisande wanted to groan. Aurora was barely 14 – the youngest of them all - and for all the world was little more than a glorified princess who seemed to think Melisande and she shared some special kinship. How she had ever been chosen was beyond Melisande. She had no discernable gifts that Melisande could see aside from her natural beauty and a sinfully rich family who lived back in Rome.

  “Thank you, but no. I’ve had a long day in the gardens and wish only to lose myself in the coolness of a wonderfully quiet bathing pool.” She gave Aurora one of her most charming smiles and the young girl melted straight away.

  “But of course, what was I thinking!” Aurora gushed with more enthusiasm than was needed, which was one of the things that drove Melisande nuts. “You’ve not over-heated yourself have you? I should send for the Physician before I leave so he can make sure - ”

  “No, really, I’ll be fine,” Melisande interjected as she began to lightly push against Aurora’s thoughts. She easily planted the sudden urge for Aurora to be off to greet the ships below.

  “Yes – yes, of course - you’ll be just fine,” Aurora echoed a bit dreamily. “Very well then. Mind you get some rest, you will be tending the flame this night.”

  “Thank you as always for your concerns, Aurora. Peace to you until you return.” She bent and gave the younger girl a seemingly affectionate kiss upon the cheek (though in truth Melisande really wanted nothing more than to shake the girl until her teeth rattled in the hopes that she might grow a brain) and then quickly turned and headed off once more down the large, beautifully tiled hallway.

  That was too easy, she thought, with a secret smile.

  A hearty breeze rushed in along the arched windows to give added comfort to the coolness indoors, and Melisande relaxed a bit. She was glad to be out of the muggy heat, having spent the better part of the morning working the neat rows of herbs on the far side of the garden. She’d lost track of time as she’d labored and cultivated, whispering quiet incantations to lend strength and potency to the thriving roots. As a result, she’d been out much longer than she’d intended and had only realized just how high the sun had climbed when she’d begun to feel tiny rivulets of perspiration mixed with soil trickling down between her breasts.

  Although she’d told Aurora otherwise, she actually wasn’t feeling completely well. She was confident, however, that once she was free of her clinging tunic and robes, and floating within the pristine pools below, that she’d feel much better. The water this time of year was always fresh, crisp and clear, cooled from a natural spring that fed into the marvel of pipes beneath raised floors and filled the ornately tiled pools where they swam and bathed. The bathing house itself was located on the far side of the grounds where only a chosen few outside of the priestesses were allowed, hidden well beneath the earth in a maze of caverns. The stone within had been carefully carved, cut and polished by expert masons, so inside was as ornate and decadent as the temple above.

  Melisande passed familiar faces along her way; scribes who were just poking their noses out for a bit of fresh air; servants who had agreed to work at the temple for a time in exchange for the freedom; even a few politicians who had come to visit with the Vestalis Maximus. But her mind was focused and she would not be dissuaded by small talk or last minute requests for blessings. She avoided gazes and practiced the delicate art of concealment, until she had finally wandered through the last of the temple visitors and keepers, and out onto the small covered pathway that would lead her to the private pools.

  By the time she arrived at the entrance to the bath house, she was alone, save for the handsome woman-warrior who stood next to the entrance. Melisande smiled and nodded, impressed as always by the fierceness and raw power that rolled off the female guard in waves. She was incredibly tall, towering over Melisande, and dressed in something she and her companions called ‘breeches’. She wore a broadsword at her back like a man, and tucked small, dangerous daggers into the secret compartments of a clinging leather vest. Her feet and calves were clothed in knee-high leather boots that molded to her like a second skin. The material was supple and smooth, and gave amazing support as well as protection for the soft pads of her feet thanks to a thick, insulated bottom made of sap that was both flexible and almost completely impenetrable, at least when cured and sewn properly.

  “Health to you, Melisande,” the woman said at her approach. Melisande smiled and returned her greeting.

  “Health to you as well, Trayvion. How fare you and your companions this day?”

  “We’ve no love for this heat of yours, I can tell you that,” she said in a rare display of complaint. “In the north where we are from, the summers are not nearly so hot. We are beginning to think perhaps we should forgo our good sense and adopt the manner of dress that your people prefer,” she said with a teasing smile as she nodded at Melisande�
��s sheer tunic. Melisande glanced down and was suddenly reminded that she had removed her robes as soon as she’d been free of the main hall, forgetting that the thin fabric of her lighter garment did little to conceal what was underneath.

  “Perhaps you should. No doubt such delicate fabric could make even you appear frail and delicate,” Melisande teased back.

  Trayvion smirked and shook her head, and Melisande noted how striking she was when she wasn’t looking fierce. She was a marvel of feminine and masculine perfection intermingled, and Melisande always enjoyed when they had an opportunity to pass one another and share time, no matter how brief. Part of this was because Trayvion was brutally honest and amazingly brilliant; but a smaller, more troubling reason was because she found herself attracted to Trayvion physically, and enjoyed the way the warrior woman often admired her when she thought Melisande wasn’t looking.

  “It would take much more than that to make me appear frail and breakable. I’ve spent a lifetime training in the ways of a warrior. We leave frail and delicate to the children.” She smiled again and Melisande laughed softly.

  “And yet, you are a marvel of beauty and physical perfection, with a woman’s curves – a woman’s heart,” Melisande whispered softly, and Trayvion cleared her throat, suddenly nervous.

  Trayvion and her companions were not native to this land. They had arrived on a ship from up north to seek out new alliances, and soon took notice of Vesta’s virgins and the guarding of the flame. In need of employment, they had pledged their service to the unfamiliar Goddess, and had so impressed the King with their weaponry skills, their cunning and their strength, that he had immediately named them Temple protectors.

  But even though they were strangers, they knew the power that the 8 women who served here wielded, and knew well that their virtue was to be respected above all else.

  Melisande stood close to Trayvion for several seconds, struggling to read her thoughts, but it was useless. The woman was a mystery, somehow closed to her as only a few were, and this made her all the more appealing. When it was clear that Trayvion was well on her way to stumbling over her own feet in a rare display of uncertainty as Melisande pressed closer, Melisande at last gave a small laugh and placed a soft kiss upon Trayvion’s cheek.

  “Peace be with you, Trayvion. I mean you no harm. You are a woman of honor and your service to the Goddess and those who tend her flame will be well rewarded.” She gave the taller woman one last, warm smile and then moved past her and into the waiting pools below.

  ~4~

  By late summer, Melisande had managed to claim Trayvion as her lover. It hadn’t been easy, for Trayvion could not be swayed mentally like most. Instead, Melisande had been forced to tease, entice, and subtly seduce Trayvion each time they happened to meet, and had at last won the battle by using the oldest trick in the book – jealousy.

  The first step had been to ensure their privacy. It had taken Melisande weeks to grow the precious root, but she had managed to cultivate and harvest a bushel of Wisteria Weed. It was a powerful narcotic that – when properly boiled and prepared – would render a grown man unconscious for up to two days, and it had worked perfectly. She had chosen her timing carefully - once each month the Vestalis Maximus hosted a private dinner for all who lived and worked at the temple, 20 souls in all, and Melisande had simply added the odorless and tasteless liquid to the large casks of wine that would be served at dinner. All but Aurora had greedily drained glass after glass (Melisande having cleverly kept Aurora distracted each time a cask came around by encouraging her to drink goat’s milk instead, saying it would do wonders for her skin), and soon after dinner, as the drug began to take effect, each had wandered off to their own quarters to pass blissfully into a deep, unnatural and undisturbed slumber.

  Once they were alone, it took little effort for Melisande to convince Aurora to join her in the bath house.

  As they had walked, Melisande slowly began to weave her spell, her words laced with powerful magic as she spoke. The moon was full overhead, and even Melisande found herself somewhat affected by her own subtle incantations. She began to find she was unable to resist subtle, continuing caresses along Aurora’s smooth shoulders as they walked, enjoying the way the younger girl shivered and laughed softly, but not pulling away. Melisande kept her lips close to the tantalizing curve of Aurora’s delicate ear, whispering stories and planting erotic images in her mind so that by the time they had arrived at the entrance to the bath house, Aurora was not only completely under Melisande’s control, but was openly pressing against Melisande in near-frantic need. Melisande had only given a passing smile to Trayvion as she’d walked by, but the look in Melisande’s eyes was enough to convince Trayvion that Melisande intended to seduce the young Aurora. And why shouldn’t she, Melisande had argued with herself on more than one occasion. There was nothing that said she could not take another woman to her bed – she simply could not lose her virginity. So, the answer had seemed simple enough. Take a woman for a lover, and make due until Melisande’s service had ended.

  Of course, Melisande had been just young and naïve enough at the time to believe she would be able to pull it off.

  As they had entered the large, private chambers below, Melisande had taken Aurora and pushed her gently against the wall, making sure that Trayvion could see from outside as she leaned close to whisper in Aurora’s ear. The younger girl had giggled, and clearly was eager to follow Melisande’s lead as she began to kiss lightly along Aurora’s neck. Of course, Aurora had no idea what was going on, Melisande having woven a spell of binding so complete that the younger girl was more zombie than human. But Trayvion did not know this and so scowled bitterly and openly from the doorway. Melisande had noticed and smiled, then bent again to whisper in Aurora’s ear. The young girl reached up to place a light kiss on Melisande’s lips then scurried past Trayvion and back to the palace, supposedly to wait for Melisande to join her.

  But the moment Aurora was gone, Trayvion had forsaken duty and honor and gone straight for Melisande, pulling her close and covering her mouth with hungry, demanding lips. Melisande was so momentarily stunned that she struggled against the powerful Trayvion, but her actions were little more than the beating of small wings against a massive stone pillar. As Trayvion’s practiced tongue and lips danced with surprising skill across Melisande’s inexperienced mouth, Melisande relaxed and melted into the heat of her touch, suddenly alive with need as Trayvion scooped her up and carried her off towards the bathing room at the farthest end of the hall.

  That first time had been a whirlwind of sensation for Melisande. Trayvion was an experienced lover who had known both men and women, and for all Melisande’s power and spells, she found she was little more than a shivering wonder of need and hunger as Trayvion’s hands began to caress and delight.

  “Your skin is as soft of the petal of a rose,” Trayvion had whispered against the curve of Melisande’s breast before latching onto the tiny pink tip and making Melisande moan with pleasure. “For weeks you have teased me. Perhaps now it is time for me to tease you.” Her words were soft and muffled against Melisande’s skin, and before Melisande could react she had been freed of her tunic and spread out upon the cushioned chaise lounge like a budding spring flower for Trayvion’s inspection. “Spread them wider,” Trayvion had said quietly and with authority. “Show me what is now mine.” Her voice was rich and commanding, and something about it made Melisande’s heart race as Trayvion directed her on what to do.

  “Like this?” Melisande answered thickly, while at the same time spreading her legs to reveal the now damp triangle of silky copper curls between her legs. She felt a moment’s hesitation, suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar need to conceal that which no one save herself and the physician had ever seen, but then Trayvion’s hands were lightly stroking along the inside of her thighs and all rational thought was suddenly gone as Melisande’s too-long suppressed desire began to swell and consume.

  “You are more Goddess than woman,
I think,” Trayvion breathed and then she lowered herself between Melisande’s legs and slowly began to stroke the outer lips of her now throbbing center. “Have you never known even the touch of another woman?” to which Melisande had simply only been able to shake her head ‘no’ in answer. “Then I am to be your first. I like that,” she had smiled and then with snake-like precision had pressed her face into Melisande’s sex and slipped her tongue easily inside the velvety softness of virgin flesh.

  “Oh my!” Melisande had exclaimed in a hoarse whisper as she felt the probing softness of a tongue, warm, moist and thick, stroking and tasting the most intimate part of her for the first time. Trayvion had obliged by pressing her tongue deeper and deeper.

  “It is not right that you are locked away in a temple,” Trayvion had said huskily between nibbles and swirling licks. “Yours is a body made for pleasure.”

  Her lips sucked and her tongue teased, and then she had slipped a finger inside and so startled Melisande that she momentarily froze. “Relax, little one – I know how not to damage that which Vesta treasures above all else.” Melisande responded with a pleasured sigh as Trayvion’s finger began to slide sinfully, slowly, deliciously in and out, pressing lightly against sensitive inner walls as she continued to feast on Melisande’s rapidly swelling nub and flushed outer lips.

  “I never knew it could be so wonderful,” Melisande said with a pleasured hum. Without missing a beat Trayvion reached up and began to gently knead and caress Melisande’s breast, twirling the tight pink nipple between her fingers until Melisande thought she would go mad with pleasure. She arched her back and pressed into Trayvion’s face, burying her small hands deep into the warrior-woman’s thick, hair and moving her hips instinctively until at last she came, her first orgasm washing over her with violent precision. Her head exploded and her skin became consumed by flame, and she shuddered and bucked as Trayvion’s tongue dove deep to lap greedily at the rich, sweet cream Melisande’s orgasm had created. Melisande had gasped and pushed against the stronger woman, but to no avail. Trayvion had worked hard to please Melisande and would not be denied feasting on the fruits of her labors, her mouth, lips and tongue pushing deep to lap up every last, precious drop.