More than most of my stories, I owe a debt of gratitude to my editors, Terry and Snow. They did much more than just check spelling. Both of them helped to refine and improve the story. This is the first story where I substantially rewrote it once I had a version done. That turns out to be quite a bit harder than writing it in the first place. In particular, Snow wouldn't let me post something that wasn't as good as it could be. I love them both!
This is a very different story for me in many ways. It is set in a fantasy setting; and true to that genre, it is violent and at times bloody. It could just as easily been in the Sci-Fi & Fantasy or BDSM categories. I debated long and hard with myself as well as with Snow and Terry. In the end, it's a story about lesbians that involves D/s and is set in a fantasy setting. I expect it won't be for everyone. Like most of my stories, while there is some sex, it's only a part of the tale. It is a story about finding one's self, accepting it, and then embracing it.
I hope you like it.
*****
There was a smell in the air. Rayven knew it well. It was the smell of fear, of many people in a small space desperately afraid of what was coming. She shook her head. The reek rolled around her but none came from her. If there was a time when a pending battle brought fear with it for her, it was long past. She controlled her own fates. Let anyone opposing her feel fear; she wouldn't.
As she climbed the stairs to the upper levels of the castle, Rayven thought back to the conversation that she just finished. She couldn't remember the last time she spoke with the King before today. She tried to remember. It must have been a year or two after the last rebellion, which would make it about twenty years ago. It was hard to believe. It didn't feel like it was possible for that much time to have passed.
Back then, she was one of his best warriors. She led the charge that broke the line in the final battle to end the rebellion and the King named her one of his champions. That didn't last too long. Once the war was over, there was not much to do. A life as a show warrior was not one she enjoyed. She left and had not been back in all that time.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Rayven looked both ways before heading towards where she remembered the royal suites were. She was tall but not as stocky as she once was; nor did she wear the armor of a warrior any more. When she was in the middle of her forties, she realized that fighting in battles was no longer something she could easily do. While she might continue for a while, eventually she would meet up with a younger, fresher warrior who would be her death. Now she wore the leather armor of a ranger; and rather than fighting in wars, she led squads of bodyguards for caravans and important people traveling. Still her armor made her big enough that people moved out of her way as they fled with what belongings they could carry. It didn't matter to Rayven whether all of what they carried belonged to them. That wasn't her mission.
It didn't take long to find the door that she sought. Without knocking, she pushed open the door. Seated on a chair and listening to a young maiden play a lute was her mission.
Looking over at her, a lovely blonde woman ran her eyes over Rayven for a moment before looking away dismissively. She saw a tall woman wearing a cloak over well-worn armor. She was clearly older, with steel grey hair pulled back into a ponytail bound by cord wrapping around it for a third of the length. Her face was a bronzish red and had lines around the eyes and by her mouth. Despite the years that were easy to read on her face and a scar that ran across one cheek, she retained much of the beauty of her youth. Her brown eyes were dark and unreadable. Despite her gesture, she felt a little shiver run through her. This woman was not someone easily dismissed.
Rayven looked over at the woman playing the lute. While undoubtedly talented, her fingers were clumsy today. From her wide eyes, Rayven could tell that she was terrified. Like most of the castle residents, she wanted to run, but whether it was loyalty or a greater fear of her mistress, she was still there.
"Isana, we need to make ready to leave. Your father has charged me with getting you to safety," Rayven spoke sharply, interrupting the music. She looked again at the lute player. "You are dismissed," she said in a slightly softer voice.
The young woman looked over at the princess, uncertain if she should obey. She saw her mistress' face cloud over and looked down, knowing that she was in a no win situation.
"I'm not going anywhere and neither is Usuri," Princess Isana said in the tone of someone who had been indulged all her life. "No one commands me!"
With a sigh, Rayven stepped forward. Without warning, her hand moved and slapped Isana on the cheek. It wasn't hard but left a little red spot behind. The princess' big blue eyes welled up. It was probably the first time in her whole life that anyone struck her.
"My father will have you flogged for that," Isana said in a tone that somehow conveyed her shock at someone daring to strike her as well as from the sting of the slap itself.
"I don't think so, Princess," Rayven said, saying the title with sarcasm. "First your father owes me his life, more than once. His life debt will take a lot more than that to be cancelled. Second, he told me to expect you to behave that way and bade me to be free with dispensing discipline as I saw fit." Her hard eyes stared into Isana's until the younger woman's eyes dropped.
"You don't understand what is happening, Isana. The rebels are closing in, and soon the castle will be under siege by the Duke's forces. He has planned well, and there is no force your father can bring to bear to break the siege. If your father is lucky, the weather will turn and force the Duke to abandon it on his own. Your father doesn't believe in luck," Rayven said. The words were stark.
"You mean..." Isana trailed off.
"I mean he expects to lose. And when they take this castle, the Duke's forces will rape every woman still alive. He personally will rape you, perhaps after others already have, and then your rapist will marry you. Marrying you will give him legitimacy among the Kantari, at least he thinks so, and they will accept him. Many of Onjani already accept him and are flocking to his banner, looking to throw down the invaders of three generations ago," Rayven said.
Looking over at the handmaiden, Rayven grimaced. "She knows. Her dark skin will condemn her. In your service, she will be a traitor. Being raped and killed is her fate, if you make her stay. The fair ones like you will be the 'lucky' ones. Most of them will be war brides, taken as prizes and given to the Duke's favorites. Is that how you will reward her loyalty for staying true?"
Isana looked at the other younger woman. For the first time, she noticed the trail of tears running down her face. "Usuri, I'm sorry. I didn't know. You must go, now!" she said.
