Niylah couldn't help the cheerful humming in the back of her throat as she bustled around her stall, making sure her finest products were displayed in the most attractive way possible, and they were very fine products indeed. Relics of the Old World, one and all, that no one else in Polis could hope to offer, save perhaps Heda. And Maker knew Heda wasn't selling anything from her collection! In fact, she and Kostia had purchased several things from Niylah already, of a value enough to replace her lost herd, and without charity at that! Despite everything that had happened, Niylah blessed the day that she had met Klark and the prosperity that had come her way ever since.
Klark. Niylah rolled her name around in her mouth, unspoken but weighty on her tongue.
The beautiful foreigner had been at the forefront of her mind ever since they had escaped from the rogue storm together, and why wouldn't she be? She was, by any measure, one of the most beautiful women Niylah had ever seen in her life. And, as someone who was routinely in Polis for Conclaves and Festivals, she felt quite comfortable in saying that such a thing made Klark one of the most beautiful women in the world, because Niylah had seen the greatest beauties that The Twelve Tribes of the Coalition had to offer. In her humble opinion, only Heda Leksa and Kostia came anywhere close, and wasn't that a statement?
Yes, she was beautiful, and she was meant to be a domina. Niylah had known that weeks ago and her opinion hadn't changed, nor was it likely to, anymore than it was particularly likely that that she was going to give up on her past desire to share Klark's bed at least once in her life. Preferably more than once, though she was less than convinced it would happen.
Unless Kostia and Heda were willing to share, at any rate, because the longer she had spent around all three of them, the more obvious it became that her friend and her ruler were both deeply interested in Klark. Not that Niylah could blame them, of course, in fact she whole-heartedly approved, even in the midst of her disappointment that someone as far above her in the social strata as the sun was above the ground was interested in the same girl she was. People far more beautiful and experienced, as well.
It wasn't a fight that she could win, nor one she was willing to try and win, honest enough as she was to admit to herself that Klark deserved far more from life, and from her partners, than what even a moderately successful tradeswoman could offer. But if she was to lose Klark to Polis and to the palace (or, more accurately, it's inhabitants), than she fully intended to do so with a full heart and a fulfilled desire.
So she had come up with a plan, a plan she intended to put into action that very night, the first night and opening celebration of the Conclave itself. Come hell or high water, she was going to sleep with Klark tonight. She didn't know how, she didn't know where, she wasn't sure of exactly when, but she was going to seduce that golden-haired, sky-eyed goddess of a girl.
The rest of the day passed quickly, with few people showing interest in shopping on this, the first night. Trawling the markets was for the rest of the month-long festival, it always was, but as shopping always waited, the ceremonies and celebrations that would begin at sunset was always the most prominent thing in everyone's minds today. Smirking slightly to herself, Niylah couldn't help but wonder how many babies would be born nine months from tonight…and how many more would be born nine months from the last night of the Conclave as well, for that matter.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon and what few customers she had been getting stopped appearing, Niylah quickly and carefully closed up her shop, her heart racing with anticipation and a desire-born tightness in her breasts and stomach both as she barred the shutters and locked the door. She had spent extra time on her appearance today, braiding her hair intricately and donning one of the few purchases that she had made with the profits she had made off of her sold relics: a magnificent emerald dress in the style of the Old World, with a plunging neckline and a skirt-line that barely covered her ass. An outfit that had earned her some very appreciative looks and more than one invitation (with varying degrees of subtlety) to spend the night with the complimentor, but she had turned each of them down without fail. Some of them looked fine enough, but compared to Klark?
Not worth a second look, any of them.
The streets were already bustling with excitement, filled with people from all twelve clans dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and sweet incense, and the sound of laughter and music drifted on the evening breeze. Niylah wove through the crowd, her eyes scanning for a glimpse of golden hair or sky-blue eyes, but in such a press of people spotting even a beauty like Klark would be impossible. Fortunately, she had a rather strong guess exactly where her future lover could be found, and that was with Heda and Kostia at The Grand Stadium.
As Niylah made her way through the throng, her excitement and arousal growing together with every step she took, she couldn't help (not for the first time, and doubtlessly not the last) to stare in wonder at the Stadium as she got closer. The massive structure loomed over, it's ancient, battered metal walls and stone pillars adorned with banners representing each of the twelve clans and the Coalition itself. Torches flickered along the perimeter, casting dancing shadows across the faces of the revelers, and though Niylah had never been to the sea, she had to imagine it would have sounded much the same as the crowd. A vast sea of noise, ebbing and rising, flowing back and forth, ranging between soft murmurs and loud shouting and back again.
The arched gates were packed, people trying to pass through a space too small for the volume of impatient clan-folk eager for the night to start, and more so for the chance to get a good seat with their families, and she felt a momentary flicker of respect and sympathy for the guards responsible for organizing and controlling that press of humanity.
Niylah took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenge ahead. She had to find a way through this crowd if she was going to have any chance of being with Klark before the night's festivities came to an end. Before some other enterprising thrall or thrallina made their play at keeping the strange, vaguely heroic beauty company. Squaring her shoulders, she plunged into the throng, using her elbows and hips to create space where there seemed to be none.
"Please, let me through." she murmured, her voice a mix of politeness and determination as she navigated the sea of bodies. The press of people was overwhelming, the scent of sweat and excitement heavy in the air, but Niylah refused to be deterred, no matter how uncomfortable she was physically or emotionally. Tradeswoman or not, frequenting Polis or not, she was a girl who lived in a quiet trading post in the forest. She didn't think she would ever get used to this sort of thing, and she couldn't help but grimace in distaste as at least a few hands took advantage of the press to skate up under her skirt to explore her body teasingly. Something she might otherwise be flattered by or enjoy, if this was any other year and if she wasn't lacking an intended partner for the night.
As she neared the entrance, she caught sight of a familiar face – Indra, Heda's adoptive mother, general, and the anointed Head of the Trikru. The stern woman, dark-skinned woman seemed (perhaps unsurprisingly) to be in charge of the guards for the event, and Niylah couldn't restrain the resulting grin. Though they were not friends, nor even friendly acquaintances, they did know one another on sight (and not only because they were from the same clan), and so she might just have found her way into The Brass Box.
Pushing her way towards Indra, ignoring the grumbles and protests of those she jostled, Niylah called out. "Clan-Head Indra! Please, might I have a word?"
Indra's sharp eyes snapped to Niylah, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Niylah feared the woman might dismiss her, but then Indra gave a curt nod and made a permissive gesture, stepping back slightly so that she and Niylah would be well out of the way of the entrance -and those trying to reach it- while they talked.
"Niylah kom Trikru, it's been some time since last we saw one another. Let me take this opportunity to thank you for what you did for Kostia and for Klark." Indra said, easily making herself heard despite the incredible noise around them, and Niylah blushed faintly and dipped her head, delighted by the thanks coming from what amounted to her ruler. Or her most immediate ruler, at any rate. "What brings you to my attention on this busy night?"
Niylah swallowed slightly at the reminder that the woman before her had many prominent responsibilities on her proverbial plate at the moment, equally aware of how presumptuous her request might seem. But the very same actions that Indra had just praised her for might prove to be the key to her success. "I was hoping I might gain entry to The Brass Box. I have, ah, uh," she took a deep breath and steeled herself against her nerves, remembering Klark's beautiful smile, flawless skin, bountiful breasts… "I have come to offer myself as Klark's thrallina Companion for the night!"
The last words were nearly shouted, her chin dropping to her chest as her cheeks flamed bright and her heart thundered in her chest as she admitted to her clan-head's face that she wanted to be the submissive sexual partner of Heda's personal guest. A bold request for someone of her social rank and status, no matter whom she was friends with nor what she had done in days past.
Indra's eyebrows shot up, her usually stern expression momentarily replaced by one of surprise, though whether it was due to her sudden volume or to the words that volume carried, Niylah wasn't sure. For a long moment, she simply stared at Niylah, who felt her blush deepen under the intense scrutiny. Then, to the tradeswoman's shock, Indra's lips twitched into what might have been the ghost of a smile, though it was gone far too quickly for her to know one way or another.
"Bold," Indra said, her voice carrying a hint of grudging respect. "Very bold indeed, Niylah kom Trikru. You realize you are asking -and you are asking, for all you word it as an offer- to be allowed to service one of Heda's personal guests? To be allowed into the most prestigious place within this building, one of the most prestigious places in this city, and allow yourself to be used in front of ambassadors, Clan Heads, generals, and more?"
Niylah nodded, her throat suddenly dry. "Yes, Clan-Head. I am aware. But I..." She paused, gathering her courage. "I believe that Klark deserves to have Companionship tonight, every night, and I would like that Companion to be me. We know each other, we saved each other's lives, and the idea of her accepting the Company of some…some stranger when the ceremony is concluded…!"
She clenched her fists unconsciously, genuine distaste leaking into her tone as she scowled. Not distaste for those faceless strangers, not really. She could hardly blame others for wanting to be with Klark, but they didn't know her. They hadn't saved her and been saved by her, they hadn't seen her at her strongest and her weakest. They hadn't earned her, and all of a sudden Niylah realized that she perhaps felt rather more strongly for Klark than she had believed. Or, perhaps more accurately, been willing to admit.
Indra's eyes narrowed, studying Niylah intently, and she resisted the urge to wince as she realized that the older, wiser woman could likely see much deeper into her heart and mind than Niylah would entirely prefer. "I see. And what makes you think Klark would choose you over the many other thralls and thrallinas who will undoubtedly be vying for her attention tonight?"
Niylah straightened her spine, meeting Indra's gaze with determination as she put her passion aside for a moment to keep her appeal controlled. "Because we have a connection, Clan-Head. We've shared danger and triumph together. And..." she hesitated, then decided to be fully honest, to go above and beyond simply repeating herself. "I believe I can offer her something unique. A familiar face, a friend, in a sea of strangers. I want Klark, not Heda's honored guest, and that is something I don't think anyone else in this city can offer."
Indra was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she gave a short nod, eyes softening ever-so-slightly. "Very well, Niylah kom Trikru. I will allow you entry to The Brass Box." As Niylah's face lit up with joy, Indra held up a hand and gave her a stern look. "If Heda approves of it, and rest assured if she refuses, or if Klark rejects your Companionship, you will be celebrating in the crowd like everyone else."
Niylah's heart soared with excitement and relief. "Thank you, Clan-Head Indra. Thank you so much. I understand completely, and of course I will obey your dictates and those of Heda and Klark."
Indra nodded curtly in approval and satisfaction before gesturing to one of her guards, who approached and saluted before waiting silently for his instructions. "Escort Niylah to The Brass Box. Inform the attendants there that she has my permission to enter, pending Heda's approval. If she is permitted entrance, return. If not, escort her to a seat inside the stadium and then return."
The guard nodded and motioned for Niylah to follow. As they made their way through the crowded stadium, Niylah's mind raced with anticipation and nerves. The Brass Box was the most prestigious seating area in the entire stadium, reserved for Heda, her closest advisors, and the most honored guests. To be allowed entry was a rare privilege indeed, no matter what rank or social status one possessed. From what little she knew of the histories around The Stadium, the Brass Box had once been the place where the leaders of the military academy Polis's heart was built around watched their students perform feats of strength, tactics, and cunning. Not so dissimilar from the here and now, really.
Reaching The Box was not a simple task even with permission, she quickly found, given the size of the Stadium and given the fact that The Box was at it's peak, and it was a nerve wracking one as well. Not just because of what Niylah hoped to accomplish, of course, that went without saying, but quite frankly she would have welcomed some small-talk with the guard to take her mind off of things. Unfortunately for her nerves, the man was a consummate professional, and didn't speak a word outside of warning her about whatever doors or tripping hazards they came across.
As they climbed the final set of stairs leading to The Brass Box, Niylah's heart pounded in her chest, a feeling that only worsened as her escort knocked on an ornate metal door, exchanging hushed words with another guard on the other side. After a tense moment, the door swung open, revealing a lavishly decorated antechamber.
Niylah stepped inside, her eyes widening at the opulence surrounding her, unable to stop herself from a low, soft whistle of appreciation and awe. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of great battles and triumphs of the Coalition, and what seemed to be paintings of past Commanders. Including one of Aleksia Pramheda, and Niylah momentarily marveled at the woman's beauty. It had clearly been done later in her life, her once-blonde hair shot through with silver and some wrinkling at the corner of her eyes, but to Niylah's eyes the subtle signs of aging only made her more magnificent, more regal and refined. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and perfume, a stark contrast to the earthy smells of the crowd below, and Niylah smiled faintly in pleasure at the lack of sweat-stench.
An attendant approached, eyeing Niylah curiously. "Niylah kom Trikru?" she asked, her voice soft but authoritative. At Niylah's nod, she continued, "I've been informed by the guard who escorted you that you have received permission from Indra kom Trikru to enter and offer yourself in service to Klark, should Heda Leksa allow you to enter?"
Niylah swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes, that's correct." she managed to reply, her voice barely above a whisper, feeling bizarrely afraid that speaking too loudly would, somehow, not only be sacrilegious in some way, but cost her this opportunity.
The attendant nodded, her expression so perfectly neutral that it was almost unnerving. "Wait here. I will inform Heda of your request."
As the attendant disappeared through another door, Niylah found herself alone in the antechamber, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. This was it - the moment of truth. Would Heda allow her to enter? Would Klark accept her offer? She didn't know what she would do in either case, she truly didn't, besides obediently leaving, of course.
Niylah didn't know how long she would have to wait, aware that Heda Leksa would likely want to consult with Kostia, and perhaps even Klark, before making a decision, and the pressure was nearly painful. She distracted herself by examining the intricate decorations around her, marveling at the craftsmanship of the tapestries and the richness of the furnishings. Everything in this room spoke of power and prestige, and she was pretty sure that some of it had been here since the Old World itself had still lived, before Praimfaya had nearly destroyed mankind.
After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a few minutes, the door opened once more. The attendant reappeared, her face still impassive. "Niylah kom Trikru, Heda Leksa has granted you permission to enter The Brass Box. I am to escort you inside."
Niylah felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over her, but before she could fully process her emotions, never mind respond, the attendant continued seriously. "However, you are to understand that this is a privilege, not a right. You may offer yourself to Klark, but the decision to accept or decline your Companionship is hers alone. Should she decline, or should Heda, Kostia, or Klark request your departure at any time, you will leave immediately and without protest. Do you understand and accept these terms?"
Niylah nodded eagerly, her voice steady despite her racing pulse, a feat that was honestly surprising, and one she doubted that she could have done deliberately if she had tried. "Yes, I understand and accept, of course."
Seemingly satisfied, the attendant stepped aside, gesturing for Niylah to enter.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Niylah stepped through the doorway into The Box proper. The opulence of the antechamber paled in comparison to the grandeur that now surrounded her. The room was spacious, with plush seating arranged to provide the best view of the stadium below, three of the four walls (as well as a portion of the floor and ceiling themselves) made entirely out of glass. Ornate fixtures adorned the walls, glinting in the warm light of dozens of candles, and the amount of food and wine that was present was frankly staggering.
But Niylah barely registered any of this, just as she barely registered most of the people present, because she had far more important things to look at than the form of the room or its decorations. Instead, her eyes were immediately drawn to the small group gathered near the front of the box, the most central and most comfortable seating even in this paradise. There, lounging on a luxurious couch-chair, was Klark. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her sky-blue eyes sparkled as she laughed at something Kostia had just said, and Niylah momentarily cursed the back of the seat and the angle which she stood at for blocking her view, because it seemed Kostia and Heda Leksa had lent her a dress. A dress that Niylah was almost desperate to see, because she had no doubt that it would make the already-beautiful girl nothing short of breathtaking. All she knew is that it left Klark's right shoulder entirely bare, and didn't seem to cover much of her legs either.
Niylah's heart skipped a beat at even this partial view of Klark, her beauty even more radiant than she remembered, a healthier shine to her…everything than even a day or two before. The golden-haired girl was flanked by Heda Leksa and Kostia, both of whom looked equally stunning in their formal attire. Leksa wearing her traditional Commander's regalia, the red sash draped elegantly over her shoulder, while Kostia was resplendent in a form-fitting dress of a similar shade to Niylah's own, one that complemented her eyes and hair perfectly.
As Niylah approached, circling around to approach the reclining girl from the side with steps faltering slightly from nerves, Klark's gaze shifted from her companions and locked onto her. A flash of recognition, followed by surprise and then delight, crossed her face, and she popped to her feet with a haste that had more than one set of hands moving instinctively to support her in the face of her injuries. Not that she seemed to notice, as she quickly made her way over to Niylah and clasped their hands together.
"Niylah!" Klark exclaimed, her voice warm with pleasure, approval and (unless Niylah's hopes were making her see things that weren't there) arousal in her eyes as she looked Niylah up and down. "What a wonderful surprise! I didn't expect to see you here. And this dress, it's perfect for you! You look absolutely gorgeous!"
Niylah would have been speechless from the compliments or the soft hands on her own as it was, but now that Klark was standing before her, she had a far better view of the other blonde's dress than she had before, and it was more than enough to strike her dumb, her breath catching in her throat as she took in Klark's full appearance. The dress she wore was a masterpiece, clearly of Old World design but perfectly tailored to her body. It was a deep, rich blue that matched her eyes exactly, with intricate silver embroidery along the neckline and hem. The neckline plunged daringly low and wide, revealing nearly half of each of her perfect breasts, while a slit up the side exposed a long, shapely leg. The fabric clung to every curve, accentuating Klark's hourglass figure in a way that made Niylah's mouth go dry and her ability to speak to abandon her
"Klark," Niylah finally managed, her voice husky with desire. "You look... absolutely breathtaking. I've never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life."
Klark's cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink at Niylah's words, her eyes sparkling with pleasure despite her obvious embarrassment at both the compliment and Niylah's inspection of her, though she neither protested nor tried to hide herself away. Before either of them could say anything, though, Kostia's soft laughter filled the room as The Shadow and her Commander moved to join the pair of blondes.
"You see, Klark?" Kostia said, her eyes dancing with mirth, reaching out to gently tug on a few strands of Klark's golden locks. "We told you that dress would be perfect. Perhaps now you'll listen to us more often when it comes to fashion?"
Leksa nodded in agreement, a rare smile gracing her lips. "Indeed. You fought us so hard on wearing it, claiming it was too revealing, too extravagant. Yet here you stand, the most radiant woman in all of Polis."
Klark's blush deepened, but she lifted her chin defiantly. "I still say it's too much for me, I would have been just fine in my own clothes. I'm not anyone special, you know."
All three of her companions scoffed in unison, dismissing her opinion on her own value with an instinctive recognition of it's utter falsehood. Of how utterly and completely wrong she was about herself, and Klark scowled faintly at the chorus of denial, opening her mouth with a mulish glint in her eye, only for Niylah to speak again and cut her off.
"Klark, I owe you my life, and I offer you recompense for that debt. Whether it is for tonight alone or for tonight and every night thereafter, I offer you my service and my submission. If you would have me, I would be your Companion, your thrallina, dedicated to fulfilling your every need. No matter what it is or what it would require of me, it would be my pleasure to serve you." she said formally, ignoring the murmuring around her or the faint approval in Heda's eyes and the wicked glint in Kostia's.
Klark's eyes widened in surprise at Niylah's declaration, her blush deepening even further. For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words, her gaze darting between Niylah, Leksa, and Kostia as her mind visibly raced to grapple with the offer and the implications.
"Niylah, I..." she began, her voice soft and uncertain, and Niylah could hardly breathe around the lump in her throat. "I'm honored by your offer, truly. But I don't know if I can accept. I'm not... I mean, I've never...I told you I've never…"
Leksa stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Klark's uninjured shoulder and squeezing it slightly. "Klark, there is no shame in accepting such an offer. It is a great honor, both to receive and to give. Niylah has shown great courage in coming here tonight."
Kostia nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Besides, it's not as if you'd be the only one being served tonight, and no one here will judge you for a lack of experience. Everyone has to have their first encounter sometime, you know. And, might I add, you don't need her to do anything too…energetic anyway. You're still healing, so something more passive is really all that could happen tonight."
Klark's eyes darted between the three women, a mix of emotions playing across her face. Uncertainty, desire, and a hint of nervousness all warred for dominance. She bit her lip, clearly wrestling with the decision, but Niylah could see how much she wanted to accept it, and felt her heart leap hopefully
"I... I don't want to take advantage of you, Niylah," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the growing roar of the crowd outside. "You saved my life too, you know. I owe you just as much. I don't want…I mean, you're not obligated…"
"We might have saved each other Klark, but your generosity rebuilt my life, and if you hadn't saved me, I could not have returned the favor." Niylah refuted, shaking her head slightly, a gentle smile on her face. "You can't owe me a debt for actions I could only take because you saved me, and despite my words, this isn't out of obligation. It's about desire. My desire to serve you. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. My offer stands, whether you choose to accept it fully or partially. I'm here for you, in whatever capacity you need."
Leksa nodded approvingly. "Wise words, Niylah kom Trikru. Klark, the choice is yours. Know that whatever you decide, you have our full support."
"Niylah, I..." Klark hedged, her voice soft and uncertain, but with growing interest and weakening reluctance. "I'm honored by your offer, truly. But I don't know if I can accept. I'm not... I've never had a thrallina before. I wouldn't know what to do."
Niylah's heart raced, hope and desire warring with the fear of rejection. She took a step closer to Klark, her voice low and intense. "You don't need to know what to do, Klark, not yet. Kostia is right, you're too injured to truly use me. Let me service you, and we can learn what else you desire together as you heal. No one expects you to be a perfect domina your first night, and no one will think less of you, me least of all."
That reassurance seemed to be enough for Klark.
Her eyes softened, a mix of desire and nervousness flickering in their blue depths. She glanced one final time at Leksa and Kostia, who both nodded encouragingly with warm smiles and bright eyes, before turning back to Niylah.
"Alright," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I accept your offer, Niylah. Be my Companion for tonight. We'll talk about the rest later."
Niylah's heart soared with joy and anticipation. She sank to her knees before Klark, her head bowed in submission, enjoying the soft, sharp intake of breath that the act garnered from her freshly-minted domina. "Thank you, Klark. I am honored to serve you."
Kostia clapped her hands together, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Wonderful! Now that that's settled, shall we get comfortable? The ceremony will be starting soon."
Leksa nodded, a gesture having Niylah on her feet and guiding Klark back to her seat, before the tradeswoman took her own place on the floor beside the now-resting wanderer and curled her feet up underneath herself. Kostia, for her part, settled onto the floor beside an even-more impressive seat, Leksa's no doubt, even as her own domina made her way to the edge of The Box and stood in the window, hands folded behind her back and posture regal, radiating command and calm.
"People of the Coalition, I welcome you once again to Polis, the sacred capital of our people! I welcome you in my name, Heda Leksa the Reunifier, and in the names of all those who held Stewardship of the Throne of Man before me!" she spoke firmly, her voice echoing to every ear in the city by the means of the surviving technology of the Old World that Aleksia Pramheda had arranged expressly for moments such as this. The crowd cheered, no one voice able to stand out enough to be heard, but Niylah could imagine what was being said by many of those voices. She had once been one of them, after all. Leksa gave them a moment to get it out of their systems before continuing. "Once again, we have gathered here in order to see the finest warriors our people have to offer strive for the ultimate prize: victory, and with it the right to call themselves Chosen! The right to take on the privilege and the responsibility of helping lead our people into the future, of protecting them and, Maker willing, of serving loyally when The Sky Princess, the One Who Is Promised, takes up her throne and guides us into a new golden age!"
The crowd roared again at Leksa's words, their excitement palpable even from this height and distance. Niylah felt a shiver run down her spine at the mention of The Sky Princess, of the golden age she was prophesized to bring. It was a legend she had heard whispered since childhood, and all the Coalition knew how dedicated Heda Leksa was to fulfilling it, how passionately she had spoken these words at the beginning of every Conclave, but it seemed…different, somehow, this time. Perhaps it was because she was sitting in the room with her, hearing her unfiltered, rather than through the Old World tek?
Some instinct had her looking up at Klark, and she barely resisted the urge to frown faintly in concern.
Klark's expression was unreadable, her blue eyes focused intently on Leksa as the Commander continued her speech, a slight tension in Klark's shoulders, a barely perceptible shift in her posture that spoke of discomfort or unease. Instinctively, Niylah reached out, gently placing her hand on Klark's forearm in a gesture of comfort and support, not understanding what the problem could be but wanting to help as best she could all the same.
Klark started slightly at the touch, her gaze dropping to meet the tradeswoman's concerned eyes. For a moment, something flashed across Klark's face - a mix of emotions too complex and fleeting for Niylah to fully decipher. But then Klark's expression softened, and she offered Niylah a small, grateful smile, her hand coming to rest atop Niylah's.
"Thank you," Klark murmured, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd outside, thumb stroking gently along the back of Niylah's knuckles. She didn't elaborate on what she was thanking Niylah for - the comfort, the concern, or simply her presence - but the warmth in her eyes spoke volumes.
Niylah nodded, giving Klark's arm a gentle squeeze before reluctantly withdrawing her hand. She wanted nothing more than to continue offering comfort, but it wasn't her place to act so familiarly with her domina, not yet. They had yet to establish the rules between them, after all, though from Klark's reaction Niylah was sure she could have continued none-the-less.
Leksa raised her hand, silencing the crowd with a simple gesture. "Tonight, we begin the Conclave! For the next month, we will witness feats of strength, skill, and courage as our warriors compete for glory and honor. But remember, this is not just a test of physical prowess. It is a test of character, of wisdom, and of leadership. For those who emerge victorious will not only have proven themselves in combat, but will have demonstrated their worthiness to serve as judges, as healers, as dispensers of wisdom and guidance and justice! Now tell me, sons and daughters of the Coalition, shall I introduce them to you?"
The stadium, Niylah was sure, quaked in the face of the resulting roar, and she could see Leksa smiling at their eagerness.
"From the vast deserts comes Caris of the Sangedakru, who stands before you as the victor of two Conclaves!"
Niylah could picture her, tanned and tall, dark brown eyes firm and stern, chestnut hair carefully braided for beauty and functionality both. Caris, perhaps surprisingly for the typically reserved and cautious people of the desert, was known for her daring behavior and for being a spectacular shot…and a mediocre swordswoman. Kostia had praised the other girl's marksmanship more than once, something that weighed quite a bit in Niylah's mental scales.
"From the frozen north comes Echo of the Azgeda, who stands before you for the very first time!"
Niylah blinked in surprise, shifting slightly in wonder. The Azgeda had not sent anyone besides their near-champion, Ontari, in many Conclaves, and she had to wonder at the change. In fact, now that she looked around and took the room in, she realized that Ontari was here, not standing upon the dais down on the Stadium's floor. Had she stopped participating? She was already Chosen, so unless she intended to become Heda there was no need to continue involving herself, but the general consensus by everyone had been that she did intend to try and call a Greater Conclave. What could possibly have happened to change her opinions or apparent goals? And was it something she needed to help protect Klark from?
"…declare this Conclave begun! Eat, drink, enjoy the company that you keep or that you seek, for tomorrow, the competitions begin in earnest!" Leksa stepped back as the crowd thundered their excitement, and Niylah blushed faintly as she realized that she had been in her thoughts long enough, and deeply enough, to miss the rest of the competitor's introductions. Oh well, she'd figure out who to cheer for another time, she had more important and immediate goals on her mind.
Attendants flowed forward, offering food and drink, and Niylah felt giddy as she was handed Klark's platter. Ignoring the confused look on the other girl's face, or the way her perfect lips were parting to form a question, Niylah shifted her position until she could comfortably brace her elbows on her knees, holding up the platter on flattened palms. Partial understanding dawned in Klark's eyes, and she glanced beside them. Niylah followed her eyes to see Kostia in a similar, though far more impressive position, holding the platter on the strength of her arms alone as Leksa began to eat.
"Forgive me, domina, I am untrained and inexperienced. I cannot emulate Kostia's talents yet." Niylah said the moment those eyes turned back to her, head half-bowed in submission, even as she looked up at Klark through her eyelashes.
Klark's eyes widened slightly at Niylah's words and posture, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She seemed at a loss for words for a moment, glancing between Niylah and the platter of food.
"I... that's alright, Niylah," Klark finally said, her voice soft and uncertain. "You don't have to do that. I can hold my own plate."
Niylah shook her head gently, keeping her position steady. "Please, domina. Allow me to serve you. It would be my honor."
Klark bit her lip, clearly wrestling with the idea. Leksa, overhearing the exchange, paused in her meal to address Klark. "Klark, remember what we discussed. This is Niylah's choice, her desire to serve you. To refuse her service would be to reject her gift, to reject her."
Kostia nodded in agreement, her voice warm and encouraging. "It's alright to let yourself be taken care of, Klark. Enjoy it. And rejecting her at this point would be seen as a commentary on her ability or worthiness to serve you."
"Please forgive my inexperience, domina." Niylah repeated, hoping for a more…appropriate response the second time, and Klark's eyes searched her own for a long moment before something changed within them. An acceptance, an approval…and a hunger.
"You are forgiven. I am new to this too. We will learn together." she finally said softly, her voice a mix of embarrassment and something deeper, more primal. She reached out hesitantly, selecting a piece of fruit from the platter, her eyes roaming Niylah's body. Or, at least, what of it could be seen given their respective positions and the platter between them.
Niylah felt a thrill run through her at Klark's words and the way her eyes lingered on her body, the way she had begun to take advantage of what was offered. She kept her posture steady, determined to prove herself a worthy Companion, no matter her lack of experience.
As the night wore on, Niylah remained steadfast in her service to Klark, pride and determination carrying her through where inexperience tried to hamper her. She held the platter without complaint, even as her arms began to ache, basking in the warmth of Klark's growing confidence and the occasional brush of fingers against her skin as Klark selected morsels from the platter. The conversation flowed around them, with Leksa and Kostia engaging Klark in discussions about the upcoming competitions and the history of the Conclave.
Niylah listened intently, soaking in every detail, feeling no small amount of pride by both the questions Klark was asking and the answers she gave in turn. Despite her domina's inexperience and ignorance, though she hated to use the word, it was obvious that Klark was clever and wise, and it was all only improved by the fact that Niylah was hearing things not often said to the general public. Her submission was accepted to the point that they were willing to discuss things not otherwise fit for her ears, because they knew she would remain silent. That was flattering, and very encouraging, because even if Klark was unsure about anything long-term, it seemed Kostia and Leksa wouldn't impede her efforts to stay with Klark. Which meant that her two biggest potential obstacles weren't obstacles at all, but helping her.
Within a few hours of the celebration beginning, she noticed Klark becoming more comfortable with her role, her posture relaxing and her commands becoming more assured and delivered with less hesitation and a firmer tone. She also noticed the atmosphere in The Brass Box grew increasingly relaxed and intimate. The sounds of the celebration outside provided a constant backdrop, but within their secluded space, a different kind of energy was building.
Klark's hand brushed gently against Niylah's cheek as she reached for another morsel, sending a shiver down the tradeswoman's spine at the deliberate (and it was deliberate) caress. "You're doing wonderfully, Niylah." Klark murmured, her voice low and husky. "Thank you for your service."
Niylah felt her cheeks flush with pleasure at the praise. "It is my honor, domina." she replied softly, her eyes meeting Klark's own smoldering gaze for a brief, charged moment.
"I'm glad to hear it," Klark said, her voice low and husky. Her fingers trailed along Niylah's jawline before retreating. "Because I think I'd like to put that service to the test."
Niylah's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at Klark's words and touch. "How may I serve you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, wondering if Klark was finally going to take the initiative for something more significant than shifting position or refreshing her food and drink.
Klark's eyes darkened with desire as she glanced around the room, an edge of shy anxiety in the action. Most of the other occupants were engaged in their own conversations or activities, paying little attention to their corner. Leksa and Kostia, however, were watching them with undisguised interest, and Klark met their eyes for a long moment, heat and vulnerability dancing in her own for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and looking back down at her.
"Set aside the platter, out of the way." Klark commanded softly. "Then come closer."
Niylah obeyed instantly, carefully placing the platter on a nearby table, her heart racing as she positioned herself before Klark, hands resting on her thighs as she knelt once again. The air between them felt electric, charged with anticipation and desire. Klark's eyes roamed over Niylah's form, a mix of nervousness and hunger in her gaze.
"You look beautiful like this." Klark murmured, her voice low and husky. "So eager to please."
Niylah felt a shiver run through her at the praise and the promise in those words, a flutter in her belly. "Thank you, domina. You honor me with your approval."
Klark bit her lip, clearly wrestling with her own desires and inexperience. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out, her fingers gently tracing Niylah's cheek. "I…I want to kiss you, Niylah. Is that alright?"
"My body is yours, and my body is ready." Niylah whispered in response, a thrill arcing up and down her spine, her breath caught in her chest from the anticipation. Klark's eyes searched her own for a long, long moment, before she smiled crookedly.
"Then come and kiss me, Niylah." she commanded softly, and Niylah could have cried from happiness.
She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper as she replied, "Yes, domina."
Slowly, reverently, Niylah leaned in. Her hands came to rest lightly on Klark's thigh as she tilted her head up. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as Klark responded eagerly.
Niylah's world narrowed to the sensation of Klark's lips against her own. The kiss was everything she had imagined and more - soft yet passionate, tentative yet eager. She could taste the sweetness of the fruit Klark had been eating and the wine she had been drinking, mingled with something uniquely Klark. As the kiss deepened, Niylah felt Klark's hands come up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer.
A soft moan escaped Niylah's throat as Klark's tongue brushed against her lips, seeking entrance. She parted her lips willingly, submitting to Klark's exploration, her own tongue caressing, but never fighting, with the other girl's. The kiss grew more heated, more urgent, and Niylah found herself struggling to maintain her composure, a struggle that only grew more difficult as she felt Klark's nails scrape lightly against her scalp. Her hands tightened on Klark's thighs, her body yearning to press closer, but her instincts telling her to take only what she was given
When they finally broke apart, both girls were breathing heavily, tension and arousal flowing between them like lightning, and Niylah watched it build in Klark's desire-darkened eyes, watched as she licked kiss-swollen lips, and her sex tightened in anticipation of what her domina would do when it snapped.
"Klark, you're still injured. You need to take things slowly and carefully or risk setting your healing back. I recommend something that doesn't require much on your part, perhaps, besides pleasure?" Ontari's voice cut between them like a sword, reluctant, almost remorseful, and both mistress and servant looked over to see the flushed raven-haired Azgeda Chosen watching them with desire and concern both in her eyes.
Klark hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering between Niylah and Ontari. The desire in her gaze was unmistakable, but so was her uncertainty. She took a deep breath, seeming to step back from some invisible precipice, and Niylah mourned that briefly even as she knowledge Ontari's wisdom. Her domina's health came first, of course.
"You're right, Ontari. Thank you for the reminder." Klark's voice was husky with arousal, but there was a newfound confidence in her tone as she turned her attention back to Niylah. "Niylah, I want you to pleasure me with your mouth. But first, remove your dress. I want to see all of you."
Niylah's heart raced at the command, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooding through her. She hadn't been naked before someone else, at least in a circumstance such as this, in a very long time. Oh, she had had plenty of sex at previous events, but this was different, more personal, more meaningful. "Yes, domina." she breathed, her fingers already moving to the fastenings of her dress, hands nearly shaking with anticipation.
What would her domina taste like, she wondered? What would she look like and sound like as she came?
Niylah couldn't wait to find out.