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Imperial Ambitions ( sunspark + BloodRedRomeo )

S

sunspark

Planetoid
Joined
Nov 5, 2015
The great Empire of the Highlands was a colossus that stood astride the world. Centuries of military tradition made them all but invincible in war, and the great engine of their economy has propelled both science and magic forward to new heights.

Other nations and upstarts have fallen and been ground to dust before the juggernaut of its armies, their people subjugated and enslaved (if they were weak), or joined to the strength of the Highlands (if they were strong). Cerean, Tonnirus, Briceres - and now the diverse and multitudinous kingdoms and city-states of the Midlands. It's been more than a year since Mirah's twin brother - her fiancée - was sent to conquer it, and only now has she been able to join him there, her own time having been spent repelling a barbarian invasion from their northern borders. The Highland martial traditions are scarcely less demanding of women than they are of men.

He's taken the central Captial as his own, and this place once served as the hub of Midland trade and military might - such as they were. Now, the flag of the Highlands and her brother's personal standard fly over the former King's palace. As she rides though the city at the head of her personal bodyguard, she sees others among them, the standards of the great Legions who won glory here. Lacosta, the Red Dragons, the Iron Wolves, perhaps a dozen others, though she doubts they're all in the Captial. From what she's heard, though the Midlands have officially surrendered, pockets of scattered resistance still exist in the wilderness and outlying settlements.

Mirah is tall for a woman, and she dismounts as she comes to the main entrance of the palace. She looks typical of a Highlander, with pale skin, dark blonde hair, and a scattering of freckles that are starting to fade as she leaves her teenage years behind. Tradition calls for her hair to be uncut, and were it unbound, it would fall nearly to waist. As it is, it's securely braided and pinned up behind her head. She wears armor of scales and fine chain, painted red, the gauntlets honed and clawed. Her boots, metal shod, strike blue sparks from the polished floor as she crosses it, approaching where her brother waits with his generals.

She tries to remain stoic, but she can't help herself, and her breath catches in her throat at the sight of him, her lips curving up into a smile.
 
Jace was not a man built for peace, though one look at him would tell any man that. He struck an intimidating figure, that much was certain. He was tall and practically made of muscle. But not enough that it would ever slow him down. He moved like the wind on the battlefield and struck like lightning. His dark hair was loose, allowing for his long main to resemble that of a lion. His face was already scarred at his age, though most were light and old. A single fresh one stuck out on his face, stemming from his most recent battle.

Barbarians from the north, a growing alliance to the south, and the needs to deal with a particular brigand problem that refused to go away and threaten the Empire's internal trade. To some nations, that would have been enough to lead to their collapse. But those nations were not the Empire, and they had not been uniquely gifted with the twins Jace and Mirrah. While the sister's strength lay in planning and grand strategy, the brother belonged on the battlefield, charging with his men and making the necessary decisions in the heat of the conflict. So while she prepared for the spread out and and tricky campaign in the north, he drew upon several legions along with his personal army, the Storm Ravens.

Clad in silver and blue, he drove into the heart of the Midlands, a strategy they couldn't have predicted, crushing the unprepared army and routing any reinforcements that came his way. Of course, Jace wouldn't be satisfied with defeating one multi-national army. So his gaze turned to Capital. He crushed it, the garrison, and all those who opposed him. The crown prince had come close to taking him down in an ambush, the result of which had been his wound. But Jace had paid him back a hundred fold for that slight.

As he stood at the entrance, watching his sister, he couldn't help but feel how different of impressions they must give off. She was clean and put together, perfect for a warroom where she would weave the plans that would end her enemies. He was wild and unkempt, home in the battlefields carrying out her will. Together, they were invincible. And by god, did he love her more than anything else in this world. He approached, maintaining an air of formality while he resisted the urge to have her right there. He decided she should also be informed of something. A newly conquered city deserved a new name, one he knew she would appreciate. "My love," he greeted her, "I welcome you to the city of Jarrah."
 
The Highlands do not just have a war god, they have their own pantheon of war gods. Some their own, some they've taken from other cultures, in the same way they might take women and land.

There's Ten Thousand Spears, the god of large armies; Bloody Feather, the owl-faced god of tacticians; Burning Repeat, the goddess of cannons and firesand; Aska Baera, the god of fury and wrath; the pantheon's leader and the King of all Gods, Sol Invictus, from whom the Imperial family claims descent - to name but a few.

Mirah, privately, sees her twin brother as one of them.

Her place is among the generals and tacticians, but the Highlands do not allow their officers to remain unbloodied, and she's stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Legions in battle on a dozen occasions. To see her brother fight is a thing of beauty, and it seems obvious to her that he must be something more than merely a mortal man.

His voice, after more than a year apart, is all that it takes to excite her. She feels her sex tighten, the first hint of wetness, her nipples hardening beneath her armor. The last few feet between them are crossed at not quite a run, and she throws herself into his arms, kissing him greedily, as though she wants to reassure herself that her brother is indeed real.

"Lord Brother," she says, when she finally pulls back, though her hands rest on his chest. "I find it to my liking, but I want a tour. Where are the Imperial quarters?"
 
His sister's open lust was such a wonderful thing, as was that of all women of the Empire. It always confused Jace when he read of the prudish distant lands that believed in sexual restraint. Ulviira, the Goddess of Sex and Fertility, had blessed their race with the incredible pleasure that came with the act. Yet so many tried to hide it from the world. What inferior cultures they had, with their weak kings and false gods. He was glad he could do his part to bring enlightenment to them.

Kissing his sister again after so long was pure bliss. He was fierce and passionate in returning the gesture, acting like a man who had gone weeks without water stumbling upon a lake. When she made her request, he was certain he knew what she wanted. The generals all looked on, knowing full well what the twins were going to do. "You are dismissed," he said to them, keeping her close to him as he did so. The men saluted and made themselves scare, possibly to go for their own women (or in their case of Iron Wolves' leader, men).

"I'll take you to our room," he told her sweetly and lustfully. There had at no point been any pretense made that she would have her own room. They would be sharing a bed, that had always been certain. He ushered her into the castle, leading into a glorious entrance hall. It truly was a splendid castle, befitting of the second prince of the world's greatest royal family. He had already had it redone in his colors, as had been the entire interior. He believed it was important to display affiliation, and silver and blue made it quite clear who dominated the place.

Jace and Mirah stride quickly through the hall and past the hall. They ignored the throne room, instead going straight for the grand staircase that led to the upper floors. The former king's room was not far away, and he was soon throwing open the doors to it. The room was large, elegant, and regal. But most importantly, there was a large and very expensive bed in their, more than enough room for the two of them. Unable to restrain his thirst longer, he returned to his sister for another kiss, feeling his length strain against his lower armor.
 
Mirah kisses him in return, her clawed gauntlets stroking over his armor before she steps back, snapping the bindings open and discarding them.

"I missed you, brother," she says, candidly, her demeanor softening somewhat now that they're in private. She's still poised and regal, but in alone with her brother, she'll let love and need show in her expression. "I longed for you every night, while I was freezing my ass off in the North."

Next, she strips off her cape and mantle, discarding them over a chair. It's warmer in this part of the world, far more temperate and habitable, but they still serve to keep the elements out. Her armor follows it, and the lighter clothing beneath, each piece removed until she stands naked before him.

She's not as battle-scarred as he is, though she's not untouched either. Here and there, her pale flesh is marked with proof of her prowess in battle, and the lines of her body are slim, but well-defined. Like most women of status in the Empire, Mirah removes her body hair.

She doesn't bother with reassurances that she's had no other men, even during such a long absence. She takes other women to bed sometimes, as diversions, for personal indulgences, or to please and entertain Jace - but her brother knows well enough that he's the only man who interests her.

"I brought you a gift," she says as she goes to bed and reclines on it, beckoning to him to follow, "but I refuse to show it to you until I've had you inside me."
 
He followed her example, his heavy armor falling from his form piece by piece. Even without the plates of metal attached to him, his form was no less intimidating. Seeing her like this again after so long was a gift, one he was eternally grateful for. His clothes joined his armor on the floor, his strong and muscled form laid bare for her to see.

He would not say it as there is no way for it to sound true, but he had not taken another woman to bed since their parting. It wasn't due to a lack of women or a lack of interest. There were many women within the army and he was the most lusted after member. But he had made a vow to himself. He would not take another woman until Mirah was pregnant with their child. Once that was done, he would free himself. But he wanted her to have proof that she was his favorite, from now until the end of time.

"I can think of no gift greater than you, dear sister," he said before closing the gap between them, embracing her as he took her lips once more. He pushed her back onto the bed until she was in the center of it, himself on top of her, his considerable length rubbing against her. Under normal circumstances, he would have played with her more. But this reunion had been too long, and both listed after one another openly. He would not be patient, slipping himself inside her with little wait, returning to his most primal and natural state.
 
Mirah’s nails dig at his back as he hilts himself inside her, any pain eclipsed by the sheer joy of having him between her legs again. She raises her hips to meet the thrust, her legs hooking around his, as though she’s trying pull him deeper. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and the touch of her brother’s skin is almost electric, like the loop of a completed current.

When she was younger, Mira had always assumed she would marry her eldest brother, or perhaps her father, if the Emperor wanted another wife. Jace’s bold announcement to the Imperial Court that he would be the one to marry her had caught her (and the rest of the family, most likely) utterly by surprise. It was meant to be, they were made for each other, and even the Emperor had known it. She had given her brother her maidenhood not long after that.

She’s enthusiastic, almost demanding, matching any pace he sets, her breasts pressing against his chest as her breaths come in gasps.

Her maids had seen the soiled sheets the next day and given her herbs to drink in her tea. It was far too soon, they said. She had to be more careful. They had been right of course, but if not now, with the borders secure and the Midlands under their rule, then when?

“Finish inside me,” she says, against his ear. Her body is tense beneath him, the deeper thrusts making her thighs shake. “Let me carry your child.”

...a change in their angle, a few more thrusts, and Mirah is crying out beneath him. Her nails rake over his back as she comes, her heels grinding against the sheets. Her sex spasms around his length, hot and tight.
 
Jace greedily pursued his desires. He couldn't lie, he was already planning on knocking her up, even without her request. But hearing it come from her so directly at such a moment, it pushed to the limits of his self control. Concentrating his power into his core, he continued his thrusting with a strength and control few other men could ever match.

He had long wanted to have his sister carry his baby. It was not uncommon for kings to marry off their daughters for political gains or marry her themselves if they were beautiful enough. So Jace wanted to happen even during their first time together, just as a way of ensuring everyone know she was his. Of course, he learned that it was too early for them and ceased his childish ambitions. Today, there was nothing childish about it. It was the instinctual desire to have a child with the woman he loved.

Her tightness took him to the peak, tending his entire body as sweet relief came to him as he gave a satisfied groan. He unloaded everything inside of her, pouring it into her deepest parts. Eventually, the torrent he unleashed passed, leaving his sister very full and himself very happy. "I love you," he told her, looking down into her eyes with a smile.
 
Mirah strokes her hands over him, sated and content, her blue eyes half closed. "I love you too," she murmurs, savoring the warmth of his seed inside her.

There's so much she wants to talk about, news from the Imperial City and the North, but it seems superfluous at the moment and she draws him down next to her, so she can lay in his arms. She brings up a point or two, in the interests of the Empire's business, but it's not long before she drifts off to sleep, her head resting on her brother's shoulder, and her arm slung over his broad chest.

When she wakes, much later, she's going to kiss him and rise from the bed.

If these are the royal quarters, surely they had private baths, and she finds the nearest one. The maids drawing it up for her so she can sink down into the steaming hot water. She pulls the pins from her hair (though it was already coming loose from her and her brother's lovemaking) and lets it down to wash it. When she's finished, she dresses.

Her personal Legion, the Bloody Parliament, wears red and black, but in an ostensibly foreign land, and in the company of her brother, she wants there to be no mistake that she belongs to him, and she so wears his blue and silver.

After that, she has Imperial business to attend to. Her brother may have conquered this nation, but it's going become an Imperial province on the strength of the Highland's administration and economy. She spends a great deal of time sifting through Legion reports, speaking with Jace's officers and Generals, and studying the old trade documents.

It's almost the next night before she has a free moment, and she recalls she promised her brother a gift. Mirah sends for one of her own officers and tells them to bring it up to the palace, then rises from the office chair and goes looking for her brother.
 
Jace was absoluty thrilled with the latest developments. In about a year, he would be a father. He hoped she was already pregnant; he very much wanted to see their child. But he knew he was getting ahead of himself. For now, he would focus on the current affairs.

Things were trying in the current times. The people were, understandably, less than thrilled about being annexed into their enemy's territory. Jace had made a proclamation early on that they were being judged as a people. If the city behaved and accepted the new regime, they would become citizens of the empire. But if that did not, slavery awaited them.

He did what work he could, but most fell outside of his control. He was a natural leader, born with charisma. But as a statesman, he was far from the best. He was good, but he needed better than good. However, he had planned for this and had already prepared an administration to assist his rule. His father's words rang clear as he observed their work: a crown is only as strong as the weakest man supporting it.

His favorite of these supports was obviously Mirah. She would be the perfect partner for him to rule this place. He would publicly and militarily support their reign, while she would be behind the scenes, planning every move to ensure their continued rule. As the day ended, he was in their bedroom, waiting. He looked forward to seeing his twin again, a growing tightness in his pants.
 
It's nearing sunset when she extracts herself from Imperial duties to return to her brother's room. The day has been long, but the Highlands are going to rule the world by being lax, and she stretches her shoulders as she rises from the chair. Some time in her brothers arms will make all this time behind a desk worthwhile, she thinks.

Perhaps, if they bring the Midlands to heel and make it profitable and compliant, their father will give it to them to rule. Mirah is a staunch supporter, faithful to the Imperial Cults, but divine blood or not, the man is not going to live forever. Ruling and administrating from the Imperial Capital alongside their elder brother might get tricky, so this might be the perfect soloution.

After all, there's certainly plenty here to keep them entertained.

When she steps through the door of Jace's room at last, she's not alone. With her are two of Captains, leaders of her personal Legion, their owl-faced masks closed over the tops of their faces.

Between them they drag a pair of women, the captives wrists bound in front of them. Each of the girls looks typical of a Northerner, with pale skin and long red-gold hair, though Mirah has clearly done some work to make them look presentable and civilized. Their hair has been trimmed to be even, and their bodies scrubbed clean of hair. The older one has lattices of blue clan tattoos on her shoulders and back, though the younger one is completely untouched. To mark them as slaves of the royal house, their nipples have been pierced with gold rings.

"The daughters of Bartok, the Bear Chieftain," Mirah says as she crosses the room and reclines in one of the chairs. "I was going to bring you his head, but I thought this might please you more."
 
He smiled at his future-wife, truly touched by the gesture. As she passed, he couldn't stop himself from kissing her. Seems she was just as dedicated to growing their family as she was. After all, everyone knew the components to a royal family. A man, his wife, his concubines, and his slaves. After all, they had grown up in a palace where there was always a few more women, attending to their father and pregnant with their siblings. Of course most of these were born to slaves, becoming slaves themselves. Several of these sisters went on to serve the most fulfilling life possible: becoming their father's slave and bearing his children as well. One of their younger sisters, a true sibling born of the queen, had become the Emporer's concubine by request, as many did. It was part of the reason why Jace was so pleased that Mirah had loved him and not their father, something he had feared may be the case.

For now, he would focus on the two women in front of him. His new slaves. He approached the girls as he signaled for the two soldiers to leave, theit presence no longer required. Jace could seated fully armed soldiers with his bare hands. A pair of naked women posed no threat to him. Once they had gone and the doors closed behind them, he began to speak.

"I am Jace, Second Prince to the Highland Empire and acting ruler of the Midlands. I trust you two barbarians are capable of understanding your current situation?" he asked, already exerting an air of dominance. They needed to understand who was in charge without question.
 
Mirah returns and kiss and sits back to watch. She'll want to join in on the fun at some point, but for now it's important to allow her brother to establish who's in charge here.

The younger woman shrinks back at his pronouncement, while the older one glares at him defiantly. If they're from the North, as Mirah says, the languages aren't so divergent that they don't understand, and the lack of an answer is probably a defense.

The elder slave is probably the same age as Mirah, or close to it, and the younger is perhaps her later teens. Her older sister moves in front of her, as though that might somehow stop Jace from defiling her with his gaze.

"I know who you are, Imperial." Her eyes are bright, furious, and the accent of the Northern tribes is obvious, though her grasp of the language is fine. "...and I know your kind, you think you can do whatever you please. Leave my sister out of the this, surely you have enough prizes?"
 
"That's where you're wrong," he replied, removing confident. "You two are the first true prizes I have gathered." He pushed the older sister aside as he grabbed the younger, pulling her close to him as he stole a kiss. He was rough with his affection, giving her no chance to retaliate. His entire movement made his list clear as day. When he parted from her, he turned to look at the older sister, curious as to how she'd respond.
 
The younger of the two, Hana, stumbles forward when he grabs her, unprepared for the roughness in his touch. She leans into his body inadvertently, her breasts pressing against his chest. There's no shortage of stories about what happens to those captured by the Imperials, but everyone on the Frontier knows the Prince is a daemon, and Hana moans a little, out of fear.

Across the room, Mirah sits back in her chair to watch. Neither of these women are a threat to her brother, even if he's unarmed, so even if they try something she's content to observe for the moment.

The older sister, Sigrid, moves forward again, trying to push Jace away - to rather limited effect, she wouldn't be as strong as him, even if her hands weren't tied.

"Leave her alone," she says. "Whatever you want, take it from me."
 
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