The Prince be Damned (Nightingale and Safehold)

[Safehold]

"Your royal highness, we are ready." The grave-looking, elderly man in the sage robe who was one of the few men in the Princedom or the world that Alexander Cameron trusted. Only he had the knowledge and the raw ability to make this event possible. It was a shame that these events would likely mean Magister Tillman's death, (every experiment needed a few test subjects) but that just couldn't be helped. So it did no good to fret, especially when one had to put on a pleasant smile as he did now.

"Thank you Patrick. Let us proceed, then."

"Of course, your royal highness." The draping ends of his robe moved like a banner flowing in the outside air as he turned to retrieve his assistant and their device. After only a few moments, three more robes, Prince Alexander didn't bother to recall their names as their fates were likely already as sealed as Tillman's, accompanied the majister, carrying a heavy and considerably sized jar which was covered in dark runes. That was the catalyst, Alexander realized. The portal through which his object would arrive. He smiled, giddy with anticipation.

"Well, what are you waiting for?? Proceed!" He forgot and then recalled a rather important detail. "Ah, err, once you seal the presence chamber I mean."

"Of course, your royal highness." The Magister turned to the great room's massive gilded doors and waved his hand, prompting them to slam shut. Tumblers and gears activated as the high security system engaged to keep them that way. If this procedure went to shit, then the storm had to be contained within this room, even at the cost to his life, the Prince knew.

Tillman and his three soon to be dead lackeys assumed their positions at opposite ends of the massive tankard in the floor before the Princes' throne. Tillman closed his eyes and lifted his arms. "Great and powerful spirits, I call to thee!" The lackeys began to chant a strange tongue that Alexander suspected was not meant to be heard by mortal ears. "Send unto us a servant, bound by the nature and will of our mighty Prince!" The chanting continued for a few minutes, with no additional pleas from the leader. Then, "We offer unto thee, a sacrifice!" The chanting then stopped as Tillman drew a dagger. One of the lackeys bowed before him, and Alexander smiled. Good on you, son. I'll send something to your family if I find the time. Tillman seized the man's red-haired head and cut his throat brutally but quickly. The blood seeped onto the floor and under the jar, which began to vibrate extensively. This was it.

The chanting resumed as the container became more and more active, and then, finally, what sounded like a crash of thunder emanated through the room. Yes... The runed pottery, if that is what it merely was in its true nature, cracked, and then split open to reveal a woman... The Prince smiled. This was of course not just any woman. Clad only the sheerest of thong underwear and an equally revealing top, her white skin marked by various runic tattoos and her black hair flowing and loose over her considerable chest and bust, she levitated from the site of the explosion.

Tillman turned to Alexander in shock. "Fool!" he called out. "You were to think of an agent of power, a soldier! Not an agent of corruption! She will destroy--!" Alexander smiled as the babbling fool was cut off by a mystical force, his jaw snapping shut while the horror remained in his eyes. The Price turned to look at his new demonic servant. What did she have in store for the old man?

 

[Nightingale]

She could feel it washing over her, the power of being released from the confines of hell. To feel the power crawling over her flesh it was ... extraordinary. As the Magister remained within her control she allowed herself to touch the floor, just beyond the debris of the shattered vase. She moved, each step taunting, and confident. She moved towards the old man, bringing her bed exceptionally close as she studied him. Leaning so her face was a mere inch from his own.

So you're the source...

She laughed, the sound chiming like silver bells, with that underlying tone of sheer evil. Without actually touching the old man, she traced her fingertips, and delicate talons along the side of his face.

So old... but you'll have to do.

Without hesitation she grasped the back of his head, bracing the old man for impact and drawing him closer. Using the opposite hand she gripped his jaw and forced his mouth open. As if merely breathing in, she began to breath in his essence, his power, his life. The old man began to wither, and turn to ash as the last of his life essence was swallowed by the demon. Dropping the remains of his skull she turned then to face the would be Master of her powers.

Well well.. what do we have here? I was wondering when you'd finally come calling..

Laughter once more echoed through the room, the wind had yet to cease, rounding the room and forming a barrier of sorts. It quickly began to draw in upon it'self before vanishing. The remaining Lackeys to the Magister would be left unharmed.. they had no true power.. she needed only that of the old man to complete her rising. She slowly began to approach the prince, each step playful and ever taunting. Bare feet seeming to glide over the floor, as if she wasn't even touching it.

She moved with a seductive sway to her body, her stance alone was enough to draw the attention of any man weak enough. However, this prince.. oh she knew all about him. Deceiving that poor old man, summoning her here.. but for what exactly, she wasn't aware. His intentions had not been entirely clear, though one thing was certain, those without true power did not summon demons thinking they would simply control them. Moira could be controlled to an extent.. but this little prince didn't have anything close to what it took and neither did his Magister.

Tell me.. Prince.. what exactly have you summoned me for? And please, don't be boring... I don't want to kill you just yet.

Full, lush lips formed a wicked little smile as she finally drew near enough to touch him, kiss him if she dared, but no.. she would not honour such a weak man with such great things.

 

[Safehold]

The Prince was entranced before her. Despite the black, imposing, runic tattoos on her otherwise flawless skin, she was still the most beautiful... woman he had ever laid eyes on. His jaw slackened as she approached, swaying her hips, moving with a grace that any mortal woman would surely kill to possess. All the while her eyes were locked on his -- but she said nothing. The prince blinked as he realized that now was the time to bargain with this creature and impose his requirements. He had gone to the great pain of memorizing the ritual. He gave a formal bow, smiling in anticipation for what was to come.

"Greetings, demon. I am Prince Alexander of the noble House Cameron, dread sovereign of the great Princedom of Ruma. You are here -- at great cost, I trust it was satisfactory? -- to serve me and my aim to dominate this realm. Everything I can see and beyond, I seek to rule, and you will make that possible. You will empower me to know what my enemies are doing and when. You will act as my agent in infiltrating and manipulating their ranks so as to ensure that they do what I command or are utterly defeated when they raise their hand against my rule. And you will serve as my consort in this quest, providing me physical pleasure on demand, and publicly acting as my co-ruler. Who knows, that may become less of a farce with time." He paused. "Ahem, At no point will you be able to actively seek to harm my person, assets or aims... or you will find that I can punish you."

Alexander decided to deviate from the script. "I think you will find this most agreeable. There is much power and sustenance for you here, and you will be able to feed upon perpetually -- in my service. Why use the stick when there is a carrot, no?" Alexander's initial nerves had been purged as he assumed his charismatic nature and persuasive abilities. "Better than simply taking that pathetic meal," he gestured toward the decayed corpse she had feasted from, "and returning..." He made eye contact with her to show his sincerity and his willpower. A small creeping doubt entered his mind as he did. What is the old man had been right?

 

[Nightingale]

“Alexander..”

She cooed, her voice a melodic lilt. She brought a hand up to gently cradle his jaw, her body turning slightly as she began to walk around him. Looking him up and down. Her eyes studying every contour line of his body, reading him from his stance alone. His words, they meant little to her. Laughable to say the least. Lips quirked at the corner, forming devious little smirk as she came around behind him, fingertips trailing down along his neck to his shoulder. Her nose tenderly grazing the nape of his neck, breathing in of his scent.

“You wish to tame me with such little power?”

She laughed. A simple sweet sound, her body pressed against his back, her hands smoothing over his shoulders to let fingertips idly draw over his chest as she teased him with such intimate relations.

“If your dear little Magister didn’t have enough power to save himself.. what makes you think such pathetic little words will make me bow down to –you- ?”

She stepped away from his back and moved towards the old mans dead corpse. Tapping him lightly with the toe of her foot to make a point.

“Simply put, I can not harm you.. not physically at least, but that does not mean I am bound to do your bidding. Good luck with that Prince.”

She turned back to face him, slender body toned and on display, she raised her arms to run her hands through her hair, enjoying the feeling of being free, but knowing that just as well she was bound to this man, however it was her choice whether or not to do his bidding. She could not hurt him, but she could not leave him either. She was bound by an invisible little chain so to say.

“You’re dealing a demon boy, are you sure you’re not playing with the wrong toys?”

 

[Safehold]

Prince Alexander sighed. So, she wasn't going to make this easy. "Well, there is the carrot. Ahem. I do believe that I did mention a stick." He turned to one of Tillman's underlings, and raised an eyebrow. "Am I right?"

The man, clearly under the influence of some powerful magics, nodded his head numbly. Alexander could see the demon look on with curiosity, and smirked. If she knew what was coming, she showed no sign of it. The robed figure who had remained still beside the summoning font during Alexander's entire exchange with the demon drew a dagger. "For... my... Prince..." He then turned the dagger on himself, driving in straight into his abdomen. He let out a moan of agony as blood quickly poured out and began to pool around him and finally he doubled over. The hood of his robe revealed a tattooed bald head as it fell back once the head in question impacted on the remains on the summoning font. Eyes were already rolled back into the skull. Alexander led out a muffled chuckle, and then assumed the stance Tillman had drilled into him for years.

Magic was a powerful force, but its true power, as Tillman had known, as he had passed on to Alexander, was contained within mortal blood. This sort of power was one of the few reasons that demons had any interest whatsoever in the mortal realm, beyond their specific and completely unknowable individual agendas. They had their own blood, and the occasional windfall of a mortal stupid enough to provide them with a supply (often as part of an incredibly naively bargained deal, often from the mortal's own body) and were quite powerful creatures -- but a mortal mage with the knowledge and access to blood willingly given in the manner that Alexander now drew on was the most powerful force known to any plane... for a limited time.

As the Prince (and in a way known only to him and the late Tillman) and master Bloodmage called the lackey's blood to his hands, the body of the lackey rose from the ground and presented it to him through every orifice the corpse possessed. Finally Alexander clenched his fist around the blood energy, and the man's back ripped open as his still heart was extracted. The heart, hovering in air for a brief moment, exploded, and a wave of energy impacted Alexander, causing his eyes to glow with power. He stepped forward as a challenge to the demon.

"Now... because I am feeling just giddy about my success so far," he spoke in a booming echo, with the voice of the lackey present in the essence of his blood reverberating with his, "I present my offer to once more. Think on it. Carrot..." He brought his hands up in preparation, "or stick."

 

[Nightingale]

It had not taken Moira long to realize exactly what the prince was capable of. As the mortal took his own life she felt a hint of regret. It was in her blood to want power, and for someone to possess such power made her want it.. but it also made her obedient. The dominance he exerted aroused her, brought a delighted, wicked little purr from her throat. A slender pink tongue flicked across her bottom tier as she witnessed the calling of the blood and the confidence he held in himself.

“I don’t like sticks… not exactly prone to carrots either.. but I’ll take the greater of the evils. Gimme the carrot.”

She cooed almost sweetly, her face taking on a damn good act of innocence, eyes becoming wide and doughful as she pouted, her bottom lip giving a soft quiver as she approached him with slow easy steps, keeping her head bowed just slightly, a sign if submission. She looped in arm around him and rested her hand against the small of his back. The other rose to gently plant against his hand and lower it. Her voice a seductive sultry little whisper as she spoke against his neck.

“No need for such threats, my Prince. I am bound to you.. And will do your bidding should you still have me. “

Though the sarcasm was evident in her tone, the words she spoke were that of true sincerity. Taking a step back she lowered herself to her knees before him, her scantily clad body held still in the most seductive manner she could muster in such a position, her head bowed and hair cascading over her right shoulder, she traced a deep line over her head with her nail, drawing forth a line of blood.

“I, the Demon, Moira.. pledge to you Prince Alexander, my loyalty, protection, and body to use as you see fit. My powers are yours to command. I will be your consort, your warrior, your assassin anything you should see fit of me. I will not harm you, nor those who follow you lest you so wish it. I bind myself to you by blood. The deed is done.”

Everything he had wanted, in those words, had been promised. Everything he had waited for, prepared for, for this moment.. had come to an end. By natural instinct, Moira wanted power.. and she had a great sum of it, however, she could not challenge that of blood mancy, lest she wish to spend an eternity in hell weak and helpless. Or worse. Though this had not gone exactly as she had planned, what could she complain about? She’d been freed from hell, by a man of true power, to live a lavish life of pleasure and bloodshed. She’d have to make the best of this, lest she wish to end up like that poor human boy.

 

[Safehold]

"Moira... hmm... it shall be suitable. Very well." Alexander relaxed, and the glow vanished from his eyes. The suspended blood energy about him began to collapse, and then the Prince chuckled. "Ah ah ah..." He retrieved a bottle prepared for this purpose that lie on a pedestal nearby, and uncorked it. An echoing suction softly sounded in the room as the floating energy coalesced in a vortex into the tankard, becoming ordinary blood once more.

"Can't afford to lose that now." He slipped the neck of the bottle into a loop, obviously designed for the purpose, that was suspended from his belt. "Oh, and before you think on the possibility, you crafty little hellspawn..." He tapped his finger on her nose as a playful tweak, "The very glass used to craft this phylactery was bound to my blood when it was only sand. Only I may access it." He smirked. "Unless you plan on getting your hands on the proper spell and a good deal of my willingly-given blood, don't waste your time lusting after it."

Of course, that was precisely what she would do, for it was in the demonic nature, and Alexander counted on that. There would be plenty of other options to obtain blood should the need arise, but this kind of deadly donation would be hard to arrange without Tillman's assistance. Alexander momentarily frowned. The necessity of the old man's death would trouble him a little, but he drew comfort in knowing that the power he had gained more than made up for it in the long term, and that in keeping with the tradition of their order, Tillman would have approved of the apprentice outwitting and destroying the master for just such a higher purpose, if he were still around to know the chain of events.

For now, though, Alexander had his own extraordinary power, a readily accessible reserve of ultimate power should the need arise, and a supernaturally strong personal servant, as much as one of her kind ever could be such... who was also incredibly be beautiful. Try as he might to resist her charms Alexander found that he could not. That was all right, he had planned on this. That was what the whole "pleasure" clause of the new contract was about. Alexander just hadn't assumed she would be this mesmerizingly gorgeous. It would serve him well to many ends. Publicly the Princess Consort's primary purpose was to look good. And though he did not of course ever plan on dying, the secret to gaining immortality remained as yet unknown, and production of a suitable heir may become necessary. Alexander knew that was possible... but, he realized, he was getting way ahead of himself.

Alexander eyed his new vassal up and down very carefully once more, and smiled. Only one thing to do now.

"Well then, my consort and ally, shall we go about consummating the contract, then?" He put a hand under her chin much as she had with him before.

 

[Nightingale]

Moira lifted her head, as his hand gently cupped her chin. She let those luminous blue orbs settle on him, she could read his thoughts in the lines of his face, in the not so smooth surface of his eyes and in the vibrations from his fingertips. Like any mortal man who summoned a demon of her stature, they never knew what to expect, wether the consort they summoned was male or female. Unlike many of her brothers and sisters, Moira knew she was often a shocking surprise in the eyes of her callers. It had been no different with this prince, though his power was enticing and promising, she figured, like all others, he would eventually succumb to her in all ways and would be consumed by the desire that is her very being.

She began to stand slowly, hands gently caressing up along the sides of his body, smoothing up alone his sides as her nose trailed up his chect to his neck where she let it nestle in the crook of his neck, her tongue flicking out to give a passive little lick of his flesh. Tasting of him and the heat that rolled off his body, much like the power that rippled off her flesh in torrents, licking at the world around her like a wild flame. As she pressed her body heavily into the niche of his own she let a hand slide down along his torso, tenderly lowering to tentatively caress at the crotch of his pants that devilish little purr escaping her throat again.

"Play with me my prince..."

She cooed seductively against his ear before dropping her voice to a sultry little whisper, her breath gently caressing his ear. "Make me yours.." She flicked her tongue against the lobe of his ear. With touch alone he would find her pale flesh warm beneath his fingertips, long raven tressess kissed the small of her back, her scant clothing did little to hide the remainder of her body from him, to surpress the outline of her nipples as they hardened beneath her clothes, and the warmth that pooled between her thighs.