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Dynasty of Dovak	By : JohnDoe Category: +A through F > Exalted RPG Views: 4983 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Session 39 – Reya (105XP 84DX, 75/59 spent; 3SP) – Imperfect *Smut*

The Hotshots dress in their best formal wear. Danireya forsakes her axe for an iron dagger, concealed in her gown. V’neef appears with a pair of carruca, and invites Donta and Aronia to take the rear carriage, and Danireya to ride with her. Guards liveried in green and purple flank the carriages.

“Thank you for inviting us.” Danireya says with a bow as she mounts.

“Don’t be silly, it’s my pleasure. The Perfect was sure to invite you, but this way I get the honor and the chance to speak with you in relative privacy, Mnemon Alinos Danireya.” V’neef smiles warmly at Danireya and lays a hand on her knee.

Reya smiles back at her, “‘Reya’ is fine.” Catching herself, Reya adds, “My lady.”

V’neef giggles goodnaturedly, “‘V’neef’ is fine.” She removes her hand, Reya follows it with her eyes, longingly, “I feel we two are kindred spirits. Driven to explore the world around us and meet it on our own terms. Powerful mothers. Aspirations of having our own name recognized as a Great House.”

Practically drunk on praise, Reya finds herself grinning through her reverie. It takes a moment to realize V’neef is waiting for her to speak, and a moment more to realize what she’s said, Reya clears her throat, “Well, a major bloodline of my House, at least. Someday.”

“If you say so.” V’neef says, giving Reya a knowing nod. Reya feels her body betray her and flush red as V’neef continues, “I was hoping I might get your advice. On how I might get my own household recognized as a Great House of the Realm.”

“My advice?” Danireya asks incredulously, “My mother is the Matriarch. Mnemon, is the Matriarch of my House.”

V’neef stretches and reclines, casually laying her arm across Reya’s shoulders, “Mnemon Alinos is satisfied with what she has. She doesn’t want to have her own Great House. Not that I’m implying you do. But you do want something you don’t have. My sister, wants something she doesn’t have...” She lets the implication linger, for just a moment, “But helping me found my own House doesn’t help her with that. She is a hard woman. Hard and sharp as a flint.” V’neef looks into the distance, wistfully, admiringly even, “Like our mother. She’s a good sister. If I didn’t want my own House, she’d have me in hers, I have no doubt. But what I want puts us at odds.”

“Then,” Reya says carefully, “What you’re asking me to do puts me at odds with my Matriarch.”

V’neef continues as if she hadn’t heard Reya, but she turns her attention make to Reya, reaching across her body to take her hand, “My nieces have always been good to me. Mnemon Nanals suggested that we may be able to help each other.”

“Nanals sent you?” Reya asks, looking deep into V’neef’s eyes.

“Oh yes. Your Daimother has explored more of the Threshold than I have of the Blessed Isle. Her connections run wide and deep. When I asked for her advice on how best to form my House, she suggested I meet you here in Paragon.” V’neef gazes back into Reya’s eyes, and parts her lips ever-so-slightly.

“Well...” Reya begins, withdrawing her hand from V’neef’s and straightening her dress, “For me, it begins with the Heptagram. Sorcery is an important pillar of House Mnemon. Learning the Art accords me power that is feared and misunderstood by the rest of the Realm, and wins acclaim in the House. My mother is a sorcerer, as is Mnemon.”

V’neef nods, carefully, “I studied at the Spiral Academy. It seemed to me that learning how to manage my House was more important than learning sorcery.”

Reya shakes her head carefully, “It’s not a matter of importance. And any husband or cousin can manage bureaucracy.”

“Is that something you’d want to entrust to a husband?”

“Is that something you wouldn’t? Mastering twelve different fields is far harder than mastering twelve different masters.”

V’neef clasps her hands together, “Delegation. You can’t be an expert in everything?”

“Think of celebrated heads of state, or especially great communicators...” Danireya begins.

“They’re popular. Of course.” V’neef finishes.

“Yes. You can’t be an expert in everything. So be an expert in what you are expert at. But also be an expert in people. And let them be expert in everything else.”

“And your skills lend you to sorcery. First Age lore.” V’neef nods, considering, “Then what?”

Reya looks at V’neef earnestly, “Honestly? My next step is what you have already done. Find a suitable husband. Bear children. Settle somewhere I see an opportunity, and make allies.”

V’neef shrugs, effortlessly, “Well I am older. Then?”

“Then? It gets tricky. Look at Berit. It’s not enough to do well and hope you are recognized. And it’s not enough to demand the recognition you are owed.”

“You don’t know that.” V’neef says, regarding Reya seriously.

Reya looks back at V’neef hard, sure of her words and says no more.

V’neef cocks her head to one side, “Then what is enough?”

Reya smiles, slyly, “Why does Mnemon want more than she has?” V’neef does not answer so Reya continues, “Great Houses aren’t earned. And they’re not taken. They’re given. The Empress elevates whom she chooses. Because it serves her to do so. She casts down Houses as she cast down the Gens of old – because it suits her.”

“Iselsi.” V’neef says, more to herself than to Reya.

“Betrayed the Empress a hundred years ago. Stricken from the record two years ago. Because it suited the Empress. It’s not about you. It’s about her. What she wants.”

“And? What does she want?” V’neef leans in genuinely interested.

Reya shrugs, “She’s your mother. Right now, I’m more concerned with what my mother wants. Then what Mnemon wants. Then… who knows?”

V’neef reclines back. The rest of the journey is spent ostensibly on the same topic, but Reya knows it’s simply frivolous as V’neef considers her advice. Yes, green and purple are fine House Colors. No, there’s nothing wrong with adoption to build a power-base.

Eventually the reach the Perfect’s palace, and enter alongside Mnemon Zaval and five of his senior officers. They enter the palace, bereft of guards, the Perfect’s own soldiers lining the halls.

They are led to a private dinning room. A long table is set for the Perfect’s guests, the ruler of the kingdom sat at the table’s head (his trademark scepter in hand) with Zaval to his left and V’neef to the right. Danireya is seated to the right of V’neef, with Donta then Aronia next to her, and the most junior of the officers at the end of the table. Next to Zaval, the other officers are seated in descending order of rank and prestige.

The Perfect rises, and even though the Dragons are seated in perfect silence, he taps the side of the glass with his knife, creating a pealing ring. He lifts his glass, “To the Scarlet Empress; may she reign ten-thousand years.”

The Dragon-Blooded raise their glasses in a toast. Reya notes the Perfect: he’s finely dressed, but not over-dressed; he’s old, but not decrepit; his voice is clear and strong, and carries no hint of irony. The Perfect’s wine is surprisingly good.

The Perfect notes her surprise, and gestures at the wine “A gift, Mnemon Alinos Danireya, from my honored guest V’neef.”

That the Perfect uses her full name, yet refers to Scarlet V’neef by her given name alone is not lost on Reya.

“The vintage is outstanding.” Mnemon Zaval adds in praise. V’neef merely nods graciously.

“My most trusted advisor,” The Perfect goes on, and this time Reya does detect the barest hint of irony in the Perfect’s voice, “Informs me that the Realm has reached an accord my behalf with the Guild.” The Perfect pauses, scrutinizing Reya and her companions, “Something to do with the price of opium?”

The first course arrives, a rich smelling Consommé. The Dynasts are served first, then the Paragon, a second or two later.

Danireya decides the best course of action is to be honest, “The Guild, and the Realm, would like to make Paragon the central hub for the gemstone trade in the South. The Guild wanted to flood your city with cheap opium, in an effort to force you into conflict with Gem. I was able to convince them that it would be better to use our words to sway you, than to pollute the finest city in the south with a glut of opium.”

The Perfect smiles, ever so slightly, “And how did you manage that?”

Danireya locks eyes with the South’s most powerful mortal, “I am very convincing.”

The Perfect holds Danireya’s gaze, and they both take a mouthful of consommé in perfect unison. Then a second. The Perfect dabs his mouth, and nods, “Yes I believe you are.” He breaks eye-contact, and looks around the room with a cool detachment, “The Despot of Gem has never been an ally of Paragon. If this venture has the backing of Realm and Guild, then I am grateful for your support. You will, of course, turn the opium shipment over to my guards.” The Perfect goes back to his soup.

Danireya and Aronia hide their smiles behind their spoons. V’neef studies Mnemon Zaval intently.

The Satrap hesitates, but only for a moment, “Of course. I will see to the transfer in the morning.”

“No need,” The Perfect says, finishing his soup, “My men are picking up the shipment now.”

“How efficient.” V’neef nods with approval, setting down her spoon, “Let us talk production. How quickly can Paragon ramp up its mining efforts, for the mines you currently control?”

The Perfect falters for a moment, caught off-guard, “Paragon’s mines are working at peak efficiency.”

“Efficiency, yes.” V’neef nods, “But if Paragon is to rival Gem, we need to match their production. Even if it means working inefficiently in order to establish ourselves. Don’t you agree Zaval? Danireya?”

Danireya smiles openly, enjoying the exchange of barbs. “A meaty subject. Not befitting Consommé a la Perfect. Perhaps it’s time for the next course.”

The Perfect makes a nearly imperceptible gesture, and servants clear away the bowls.

“Suprême de Saumon.” The Perfect announces as the Dynasts are served.

Reya takes a bite, “How rich.” She comments, she cuts a second mouthful and raises it to her mouth, then lowers her fork, aware of all eyes on her, “Of course, it goes without saying that I agree with V’neef. The mines of Paragon run most efficiently I’m sure.” She addresses this to Zaval, as if the mines were his responsibility and she doesn’t want to bruise his ego, “But if we are to rival Gem, we need to boost production, no matter how inefficient that may be. We need...” she takes a second bite, “Product.”

“It would be easier to get ‘product’ if we had more mines.” The Perfect says levelly.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Reya looks meaningfully at Zaval, then looks back to the Perfect, “If you’re sure you can provide the workers.”

“Typically mines already have workers. Little sense butchering them.”

“Butchery or not, at the very least we need overseers to ensure loyalty to Paragon, and increased workforce to boost production. Inefficiently. And I’m sure that no Threshold barbarian workforce can match the efficiency of Paragon. You may be better served by having your own people run the mines than suffer the inexpertise of fools who’d rather bow to the Despot than accept your enlightened rule.”

“You mean, place my citizens on the front-line and at the mercy of the Realm not deserting at the first sign of banditry.”

Danireya smiles and acknowledges the Perfect, “That, is exactly what I mean. House Mnemon is not going to bear the burden of increasing Paragon’s prosperity. We are offering you opportunity. You are the one who has to seize it. My Matriarch is perfectly content to take a step-back and allow you to do as you see fit. But you’ll do so without Realm support.” Danireya lays her cutlery politely together on her plate, leaving the dish mostly uneaten, “What are your plans for the opium we intercepted?”

Zaval answers as the Perfect stares hard at Danireya, “In his wisdom, the Perfect does not forbid all narcotics in Paragon. But they are strictly controlled.”

“The implication I am supposed to take from that being that they will be distributed to trusted physicians and favored suppliers.” Danireya says lightly, addressing Zaval before turning her attention back to the Perfect, “Another word for ‘inference’ is ‘error’.”

The Perfect sets down his own cutlery, a calculated insult to the Dragon-Blooded guests still eating. He tents his fingers, studying Danireya intently, “I intend to fund a caravan to Gem. To trade the opium for dreamstone. Paragon has enough opium, and dreamstone is not easily found outside of Gem’s mines. Let the opium glut become the Despot’s problem.”

Danireya notices Aronia on the verge of losing her composure. She is unable to read Zaval’s reaction, unsure if the Satrap knew of the Perfect’s plan or not. One wagon of opium, though not insignificant, is hardly enough to cause a glut in a city the size of Gem – there is a clear implication that Paragon intends to turn the Guild’s plan against Gem and flood the city with cheap narcotics.

“It’s a tactically sound plan. The threat of cutting off supply to an addicted nation. There’s a degree of unnecessary human misery that doesn’t sit well with me.”

The Perfect signals the next course. “Cotelettes d’Agenau.” The Perfect starts to cut his meat, “Mnemon Zaval, you are my most trusted advisor. What do you think about the price of human misery?”

Zaval looks between the Satrap and Danireya, then looks to V’neef to see if she’s giving any cues, “Paragon is protected by the Dragons. And the Dragons have stopped the terrible toll of addiction from damaging Paragon. Gem stands in opposition to the Dragons. Mortal plans put into play by mortals against mortals. I would not advocate such, but if Gem sought out the Realm’s protection these plans would be unnecessary.” He takes a healthy mouthful of lamb and chews thoughtfully.

“So it’s right to cause suffering for the good of the Realm?” Danireya needles.

“How much suffering is caused by the Despot’s mercenaries?” Zaval shoots back, his mouth half-full, “How much suffering would be caused by marching our Legions across the desert to take Gem by siege? If these methods save a single Realm life, they will be worth it.”

V’neef interjects, “As much as talk of philosophy enthralls me, I share my great grandniece’s distaste of this plan.” She holds up a hand, “I would not presume to dictate to the great Perfect within his own city.” She nods to Zaval, “And I see the wisdom this, but nevertheless...”

Danireya studies the Perfect intently, but he gives little away. Zaval seems to genuinely believe that the ends justify the means. Aronia seems to be a little calmer now Danireya and V’neef have voiced their support.

“I will consider all of my options.” The Perfect says, “It would be foolish of me to ignore the advice of the Princes of the Earth.” He nods graciously and the next course is served, “Chapons à la Paragon.”

V’neef artfully steers the conversation to lighter matters. At all points the conversation is deferred back to the Perfect, but V’neef sees too it that all the Dynasts have the chance to speak. Seemingly by coincidence, each speaks on a matter on which they are expert, the conversation seeming to naturally progress from one topic to another. Danireya is aware how unlikely such a serendipitous occurrence would be, but the alternative would be that V’neef has thoroughly researched every Dragon-Blood of significance in Paragon and was skilled enough to direct the conversation like an expert conductor at the head of an orchestra, with the Perfect as first violin.

Danireya thinks of the old proverb – ‘I against my sister’. Her first night in Paragon, and already a wedge between her Hearth and the Satrap. Put there, perhaps, by an expert manipulator who has researched Mnemon interests in Paragon to the smallest detail. Was this a play? Or a threat?

“Jambon et Langue dècoupe à l’Aspic avec Salade Royale.” The Perfect announces, breaking Danireya’s train of thought as the next two courses are served together.

“So V’neef, why Paragon for your first Satrapy?” Danireya says as the food is laid out.

V’neef takes a sip of wine, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course,” Danireya nods with mock solemnity, “Mnemon Zaval has been Satrap long enough for a woman of your station to remove him without difficulty. You’ve taken an unnatural interest in… the established order here. Even our gracious host has taken to serving two courses as a transparent nod to the two houses at play here. I mean, I’m not saying it wasn’t a tactically sound plan.”

Zaval delicately wipes his mouth, hiding a smile. Donta suppresses a giggle. The Perfect hands his salad off to a servant.

V’neef sets her glass down and shrugs nonchalantly, “Were I interested in taking Paragon, it would be because of the Perfect’s order. The city runs like clockwork. It’s close to the Inland Sea. Tribute is regular. It is the picture of civilization in an uncivilized Threshold.” She gives a gracious nod to the Perfect.

Danireya raises her glass in toast, “To the Perfect: the Patriarch of civilization!”

The Dragon-Blooded toast the Perfect who bows his head respectfully, before raising his own toast, “To the daughters of the Empress. May they show the same wisdom and grace as their mother.”

The Dragon-Blooded toast again, and the dessert is served.

“Fraises avec Paniers de Friandises.” The Perfect announces as strawberries and sweet treats are laid out before the Dragon-Blooded, save for Danireya and Zaval. The Perfect dabs his mouth, “Café will follow before carriages. Now I must leave you with the delightful company of the Empress’s daughter,” He stands and bows deeply to V’neef, “Whilst my advisors and I attend matters of State.”

Zaval stands and motions for Danireya to follow.

Danireya steals one of Donta’s strawberries and follows as the Perfect and Zaval disappear through a rear door. As Danireya follows, the guards bar the way behind her.

*Smut*

The Perfect’s clothes are discarded over the floor, as are Mnemon Zaval’s. Danireya raises a curious eyebrow as she round the corner. The Perfect reclines, naked, on a great arm chair. A slender, raven haired beauty with skin as pale as Reya’s kneels between his legs, working his shaft with her mouth.

Zaval sits in a similar chair next to the Perfect. A pale beauty with bright pink hair does a slow striptease, sensuously gyrating her body.

A third, empty chair awaits Reya, who sits fully dressed. “Matters of state?” She asks questioningly, as an olive skinned man of slender build, but defined muscle approaches her, nude but for a bugling loincloth, and begins to gyrate.

“A celebration,” The Perfect groans, breathlessly, “Zaval was sure that the Empress’s daughter would beguile you.”

Danireya shields her eyes from the bulge being thrust at her, raising her hand and looking away. She is immediately captivated by the hypnotic movements of Zaval’s dancing girl.

Zaval, expecting Reya to reply to the Perfect, takes his eyes away from his show to see her looking, “Would you like to swap?”

Danireya nods weakly, and the pink haired girl approaches her with a wide smile as her gyrating man makes his way over to Zaval, who clasps his hands appreciatively.

“But perhaps,” The Perfect adds, “She’s just not your type? It’s well that Gyda isn’t the daughter of the Empress.”

Danireya smiles at Gyda as the dancing girl teasingly bares her breasts, then she addresses the Perfect, “If V’neef wasn’t my aunt, and trying to steal our most valuable Satrapy, I’m sure I’d be just as beguiled.”

Danireya examines the girl before her. She’s maybe a year or two younger than herself, her skin smooth and unblemished but for the mark on her hand marking her a citizen of Paragon. Danireya grimaces.

“My beloved citizens serve at my request, not at my command.” The Perfect says, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as his orgasm nears.

Gyda leans into Reya, draping her body across the Dragon-Blooded, and whispers in her ear, “It is an honor to perform for a Prince of the Earth.”

Danireya looks over to Zaval, whose hands are all over his ‘celebration’. ‘Well,’ Danireya thinks, ‘When in Paragon, do as the Paragonese do.’

Danireya makes to unbutton her dress, but Gyda’s soft hands find hers and brush them aside. Gyda starts to work Reya’s buttons with painful slowness.

Reya breathes in Gyda’s scent. She’s sweet, with a hint of vanilla. Her skin has the barest glow from her dancing, and she feels warm, so close to Reya’s body. Reya breathes deep, inhaling her pheromones.

Gyda helps Reya out of her dress, and twirls to remove the rest of her own clothing. She sits in Reya’s lap and grinds against her.

Reya wraps her arms around Gyda’s waist, and runs her hands over her body. Her skin is smooth, soft and yielding to her touch.

Gyda arches her back and twists her head to whisper sultrily in Reya’s ear, “Would you like to kiss me?”

Reya nods, hungrily and Gyda slides seductively across her lap, turning to half face her. She purses her lips and closes her eyes. She leans forward, parting her lips just slighting and quivering in anticipation.

Reya leans in and kisses Gyda, feeling her body react under her. Gyda squirms in her lap, rubbing against her. Reya’s tongue probes Gyda’s mouth, and Gyda’s legs fall apart, and she bucks, gently humping the air.

Reya caresses Gyda’s breasts, and runs a hand over her flat stomach. She squeezes Gyda’s thigh, and she moans into their kiss. Dimly, Reya is aware of the sounds of sex coming from the others in the room.

Gyda takes a hold of Reya’s teasing hand and forces it between her legs.

Reya smiles as her fingers find the wetness of Gyda’s sex. She strokes the length of her slit, and finds the hard nub of Gyda’s clitoris. She rubs round in rapid circles, as she gently nips at Gyda’s mouth.

Gyda’s moans intensify, and her body tenses as her orgasm washes over her. She takes Reya’s fingers and guides them to her mouth, slowly, sensually sucking each one.

Reya pushes the girl off her lap, and stands to wriggle out of her dress. She reclines back on the bed and spreads her legs. She makes eye-contact with the Perfect, who nods approvingly, as Gyda leans over her again.

Gyda plants a trail of kisses over Reya’s breasts, and down to stomach to her wanton sex. She begins to lick the High Realm alphabet in delicate strokes over Reya’s cunt.

Reya runs her fingers through Gyda’s brightly colored hair, pulling her close as her need mounts. “Danireya.” She says firmly.

Gyda grins and starts to trace the Dragon’s name in tight tongue-strokes over her clit.

Danireya’s breathing quickens, and Gyda runs her hands over her thighs. Gyda slips two fingers between the folds of Danireya’s sex, feeling the walls of her vagina tighten as she works her clit.

Danireya lets out a loud shriek of pleasure as her orgasm hits. She feels herself clamp down hard on Gyda’s fingers as the girl eases the pressure and speed of her licking.

Gyda switches to long, slow strokes with the broad, flat of her tongue as she sees Reya through her orgasm.

Reya hopes this chamber is sound-proof. New attendants are bringing Zaval and the Perfect fresh clothes. Gyda smiles apologetically as she rises to leave. Reya pouts and puts her evening clothes back on.

The Perfect addresses her with a measured tone, “My treaty is with your Empress. Not with House Mnemon. But House Mnemon shares my affinity for order and Mnemon Zaval has been a true companion. I will honor my commitments to the Realm, but it would be my preference if you would continue to thwart Scarlet V’neef’s ambitions.”
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Dynasty of Dovak