An Exercise in Futility | By : LadyofJustice Category: +G through L > League of Legends Views: 15644 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends, any character associated wherein, and make no money off of this story. |
It was dark, heedy, only fire light illuminating the two bodies sprawled across the tousled bed. A candle burned in the corner, filling the room with it's heavy scent. Only the soft sounds of their labored breathing and the crackle of wood filled the room for a long time. It didn't take long for the greater of the two to move, Darius' large hand sliding through Cassiopeia's dark red hair, trailing his fingers down the back of her neck tracing a pattern before gripping her and squeezing tightly, forcing her to look up. "Are you going to tell me what happened with the Freljord shaman or am I to choke it out of you." he growled, pulling her bodily upward by her neck. Cassio whimpered in protest slightly pressing her hands down against his chest, crawling up his body until he stopped and forced her head down, catching her lips in a rough, luxurious kiss. One hand curled into his dark hair, streaked with white and she purred as he released her, parting the kiss and sitting up, her legs straddling his chest. "Well since you asked so nicely.." she chuckled, watching as his now free hand slid up her thigh, trailing up her taut belly before slipping past her breasts to grasp her neck. He could feel the movement of her throat as she spoke, without fear, telling him everything the foolish shaman had told her. He listened with mild interest, eyes set more to her body than his ears were to her words.
"Are you even listening?" she said with a grin, grasping his forearm, sliding her hand down the appendage, feeling every muscle; the muscles he used to lift his favored axe, to slice the heads and torso's of his enemies. She could feel the strength of the man under her, and it made her so very weak. To every Noxian, strength was beauty, it was grace and elegance. Strength was what seperated the worthy from the unworthy. Strength in all it's forms was prized, and she had the greatest of them laying compliantly between her thighs. Darius made an offhanded noise at her question, giving his great shoulders a shrug before he sat up, sliding her down his chest, moving both hands to grasp her waist. He set his mouth to her neck, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, forcing a cry from her lips as her hips bucked into his, giving him just enough room to thrust up into her solidly, hips ramming up into hers to set an unforgivingly quick and brutal pace. Her slender arms wrapped around his neck, and she writhed her body into his helplessly. Even allowing her to ride over him, he never gave up his control, never allowed her a moment of command. Cassiopeia could manipulate and control the minds of dignitaries and the court, but he never allowed her to forget that he would not be manipulated, he would not be controlled or tamed by the whims of a young girl, barely a woman. And she obeyed, willingly giving herself up to him. Never had she folded to any man who wasn't her father, listened to anyone's orders except the ones from General Du Couteau, but this was thrilling. She felt more in control when she gave herself to him, knowing that he could tell her to do anything and she would comply without hesitation.
Darius' assault on her body did not stop until neither of them could move, and they were left once more, panting, a sheen of sweat coating them both glittering in the firelight. He slept, and soon after, she did as well.
~~
The Noxian general woke to the sound of screaming. It was not uncommon. He slept often on the battlefeild were many mornings were called by the screams of the enemy. However this was different. War held the screams and cries of men in pain. What prompted him to rise immediately was that these were the screams of a woman. Sitting up sharply he saw three men struggling to lift a thrashing Cassiopeia from the floor and with a roar he immediately lept up, taking up the axe beside his bed and nearly beheaded them all. It was only the cries of "Wait wait! General please!" did he stay his hand, allowing sleep to receed and the scene to unfold. "We heard the cries, we're here to help, we have to take her." the guard pleaded and Darius looked over the man's shoulder, brows furrowing as he watched the two males restrain his thrashing bedmate. Her screams did not waver once, and he had to marvel at the lungs on her, but it was also deeply concerning. Did Cassiopeia take a poison meant for him? Did she now struggle the death that would have been his? His eyes turned back to the room. Did his would be assassin now watch his failed execution take place. "Get a move on. I will follow." he snarled, shoving the man towards the door, dropping his axe to find his clothes. He moved quickly about the room, tearing open curtains, checking every corner, even walking into the bathing room, finding nothing of suspicion. Whomever had set this attempt was good, and left no evidence. Pulling on a crisp white shirt, he didn't bother to button it before leaving the room with large, hurried strides.
By the time he reached the infirmary there was a groud of guards outside the door, swords and spears pointed inward. Brows furrowing once more he shoved one man away, demanding to know what the meaning of it all was. "Why are you out here? Where is Du Couteau's daughter?" he snapped, and the man he'd nearly set on his back shook his head, trembling and pointing toward the door. "S-she's in there. I-I don't go in there! She'll kill you." he warbled, continuing to shake his head. Darius would have rolled his eyes if the man's words weren't so concerning "She'll kill you."
"Move!" he demanded, shoving a path through the guards. When he hit the threshhold of the infirmary the scent of blood assaulted his senses. There were two dead nurses sprawled in front of the bed he assumed they'd placed Cassiopeia. Blood trails lead further into the area, and he followed them, taking careful steps, grip on his axe so tight he knew his knuckles were white. A light flickered overhead as he moved through another set of doors. More bodies lay torn at his feet, and a twitching caught his eye. It was the tip of a snake's tail curling out from under one of the beds. Lifting his axe, he cautiously stepped around the bed, following the length of the scaled tail to the other end. In the corner, naked and covered in the blood of the victims laying just outside was Cassiopeia... or what was left of her. He dropped his axe to his side as he gazed upon her, confused as to what exactly lay before him. Gone were her legs, replaced with a beautifully scaled tail that ate up to her hips before she returned to herself. Her torso was the same, stomach and bare breasts smeared with blood. Talons replaced the carefully manicured nails on her hands, and blood coated them up to her elbows. Her hair fell around her face, hiding her from sight, doing nothing to hide the heavy sobs that wracked her body.
"Cassiopeia." he said, his tone serious, demanding that she compose herself and look at him. Instead of her quiet, obediant response he had to step back in mild surprise as she suddenly looked up and screamed at him.
"DON'T LOOK AT ME!" She screamed, her voice echoing through the halls, as she demanded to be left alone. She bore her fangs dangerously before, as if realizing what she'd said, what she'd done, she curled back into herself tighter, sobbing more frantically. Darius was set aback for a moment, for the first time he was.. uncertain. Cassiopeia was a passionate woman but never before had she shown such.. ferocity. Never before had she actually made him think that she might be strong enough to kill him. In that one moment, however, the solider in him had braced for death.
Setting his axe upon the gurney, he shook his head and sighed, stepping over a bit of her tail as he knelt down. Shushing her softly, he slipped his arm behind her back and under the beginning of her.. tail.. and lifted her up as easily as he would a child. He felt more than a little uncomfortable as the rest of her curled around his leg, allowing him to move without stepping on her. Clearing his throat he moved, carrying her out as she sobbed against his shoulder. The guards looked panicked as he approached, but a stern glare set them all quiet. "You, call her father. You, get me a blanket. You, clean up this mess... and you, put my axe back in my chambers." He grunted, each command being followed almost immediately as he stepped away from the scene, heading back up the stairs, not to his own room, but to Cassiopeia's.
~~
Hours later he stood before the General, who was seated in a lounging chair beside his daughter's bed. Katarina, his other daughter, lurked in the shadows at Cassiopeia's beside, arms crossed solemnly across her chest. "You saw nothing?" "I did not." "She told you nothing?" "No. Only of her mission with the shaman from the Freljord." Marcas Du Couteau tightened one hand into a fist and turned his gaze upon his slumbering daughter. She was tucked into bed, and with the covers over her body she looked almost normal. As if nothing had happened. "I suspected she'd taken an assassination attempt meant for me however.." Her father nodded. "Yes. It would seem that is not the case." Before sighing and standing. "Until she speaks, we will know nothing." He said, taking his leave quickly and quietly, leaving Katarina and Darius alone in the presence of the sleeping Cassio.
Katarina, who had been sitting at Cassio's side, brushing her sister's long beautiful hair, had now taken a moment to stand, glowering at him. Her stare was so dangerous he feared that she would attempt his life with those infamous blade skills of hers. For the second time this evening he questioned his life at the hands of a small woman. She did not, however, assault him, and instead moved away from her sisters bed, approaching him like a killer approaches their prey. "It is no secret, the relationship you have with my sister. However pointless it may have been to you, it was something to her.. So when you break her heart, you'd best beg her to forgive your unworthiness, grovel, if you have to. Or I will cut out your pretty heart and give it to her on a platter." A cold blade pressed against the skin of his chest and he gazed down at her, fearless, but very much at attention. As she pulled away and stepped around him to leave, he swallowed thickly, clearing his throat and wiping away the small line of blood she'd left on his skin, before departing the room with only a glance back at the slumbering beast now laying in his Cassiopeia's bed.
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