This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.
In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex.
While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game.
The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful.
Proofread by "Cristalball"
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Vanesse had always thought the phrase "and then all hell broke loose" was a tad melodramatic, but she was coming to the conclusion that it was insufficient to describe what was going on.
It had started with a confrontation between her and her uncle, King Tarrin Ralisen, about the circumstances surrounding Vanesse's abduction from her Alaska compound and her cross-country excursion that had ended in Savannah, Georgia. She had managed to successfully spin everything so that the werehyena pack, Joker's Wild, were made out as her saviors. She had actually backed the King into a corner, and then Trina had made her presence known.
Things had degenerated from there. Trina, Vanesse's best friend and battle-dancer, had died several days earlier. Instead of passing into the Great Hall of the battle-dancers where they would dance and make love and serve only themselves until the end of time, she was returned to Earth, her spirit taking up residence in Vanesse's body. Then, the Princess had forced the soul out of the very vampire who had killed Trina, and put her friend's soul in that form.
Explaining all this too to the elvish monarch had not been easy, and he had not taken the news with much grace. He had realized what Vanesse had been up to, what she had been doing to build up enough power to perform an unthinkable act, and then the proverbial shit had hit the fan. He had done everything except outright call her a whore, and she had come so close to losing her cool and slapping him that she was amazed she could not see her handprint on his cheek. The Royal Guards were keeping distance between the king, his niece, and the vampire Trina who was glaring holes in the King's skull.
That was when Vanesse had realized something, namely that Trina hated the King. She had known that her best friend did not respect the monarch, but those eyes . . . those eyes conveyed a level of disdain that went far beyond civil disagreement. He had always looked down on her, treated her like crap, and then he had made her promise to effectively lie to Vanesse until the battle-dancer had found a way around it.
Finding out that little tidbit had further incensed the King, though he could not do anything about it since Vanesse had captured on video when she released Trina from her Word she had given the crown. The King thought that meant that Vanesse had fired Trina, but then he discovered that her Word to Vanesse was much deeper and much more personal than the vow normally given.
"She is an abomination!" Baron Montain was shouting, pointing at Trina's new body with snarling contempt in his voice. "Lord Stapleton, I demand you remove her from here at once!"
Shane Stapleton, regional lord over all of Georgia and personal favorite of the Tribunal, shrugged. "Trina has not shown herself to be a threat to anyone, so unless Princess Vanesse requests that she be removed --"
"Which I absolutely do not!" Vanesse said, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. "She is no abomination Baron. She is my friend, my battle-dancer, and I expect you to treat her with respect."
"She is no longer your battle-dancer," the King said haughtily. "Only elves may serve as guardians to royalty. That is the law."
"It's a stupid law, and Trina was born an elf. Her spirit is still that of an elf. Only the battle-dancers have magic in their Word, and her Word defied death itself."
"Not completely," the Baron shot back. "She is undead. Even now, she craves the blood of the living, something that no self-respecting elf would ever allow --"
A sound like thunder echoed throughout the chamber, and all conversation fell silent. Shamira, vampire and living embodiment of the last Moon Dragon to walk the earth, had just broken a heavy oak table in half.
With words as deep and cold as the bottom of the ocean, Shamira spoke directly to Baron Montain. "Don't . . . you . . . dare," she started, "try and claim that there are no elves who have a taste for blood."
Clara put one hand on her companion's shoulder. "Don't do this," she said, her voice hinting at an anguish that Vanesse did not comprehend. "You chose to forgive what happened before anyone else."
Shamira was trembling with emotions too complex to exist in the verbal world, but Clara's touch seemed to have a calming effect.
"I believe," Lord Stapleton said, his voice commanding, "that we need to take a short recess. Things are getting heated, and it makes for a poor environment to conduct politics."
"Who are you to suggest anything of the King?" Montain asked.
Just then, a new presence filled the room, and it was so palpable that even pure humans took notice.
"He is Lord of the land, and he carries the blessing of the Tribunal," a woman's voice said, projecting through the room like a great wave. "And if you do not listen to him, then perhaps you should listen to me."
"Representative," the King said, actually taking a step back and bowing his head. The vampire's delegate to the Tribunal had entered the verbal fray, and not even a King would disrespect her. She had walked the earth for a thousand years, making her one of the most powerful of her kind. "I did not realize you were here."
"I had been counseling Lady Trina on her transformation, and I was resting until this fracas broke out," the Representative said, her voice carrying an Italian tinge to it, though a myriad of other accents also filled her words. When someone lived as long as she had, they picked up a few languages. "I suggest that we all do as Lord Stapleton mentioned and take a moment to reflect on what we wish to say."
The King looked like he wanted to object, but very few people could stand the Representative's stare for long, and defying the Tribunal without a damn good reason was unwise. He looked towards the Princess, but Vanesse was moving towards Trina. Trina was still staring right at him, and when their eyes met, the King felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
'I should have gotten rid of her years ago,' he thought. And he was sure, with every fiber of his being, that she was thinking the same thing about him.
"Trina?" Vanesse asked, waving her hand in front of her friend's face to get her attention. "You in there?"
The newly created vampire blinked and then focused her eyes on the Princess. "Yeah, I guess I am."
"You really hate him, don't you?"
For a moment, Trina considered denying it, but she did not have the energy to lie. "I really do."
"Trina, I don't care what any of them say. You're still my battle-dancer."
A spot of red appeared in the corner of Trina's eyes. Blood. "No, I'm not. The law and tradition are on his side."
