The air in General Qiyan Agula's command tent had always been her sanctuary. It was a familiar, comforting tapestry woven from the scents of old leather from her worn gauntlets, the sharp tang of steel from her perpetually arrow of her Bow, and the dry, earthy smell of the parchment maps that dictated the lives and deaths of thousands. It was a scent of discipline, of order, of a life dedicated to the stark, unforgiving logic of the battlefield. Here, she was not a woman plagued by the base instincts of her secondary gender; she was a strategist, a commander, a weapon honed for the empire.
Tonight, that sanctuary was under a fragrant, insidious siege.
For hours, a new thread had been weaving itself into the fabric of the air, a scent carried on the cold night wind from the direction of the royal encampment. It was the scent of sun-warmed plums and blooming nightshade, a sweet, intoxicating perfume that spoke of royal gardens, silk sheets, and a profound, biological imperative that went against every soldierly instinct she possessed. It was a scent that bypassed the mind and went straight for the soul, a silent, fragrant siren song that coiled in the pit of her stomach and set her blood thrumming a low, primal rhythm.
It was the scent of an Omega in the peak of her heat. Agula's Alpha instincts, a beast she kept chained and starved in the deepest dungeons of her discipline, had recognized it instantly. And with a cold, sinking dread that warred with a hot, possessive thrill, she knew there was only one Omega in this entire war camp who could possibly smell so regal, so utterly commanding even in a state of biological surrender.
Princess Jingnu.
Agula was on her knees before her campaign map, the charcoal stick in her hand snapping in two between her fingers. She hadn't even realized she'd clenched her fist. The line she'd been tracing—a potential flanking maneuver against the western tribes—was now a meaningless smudge. Her mind was a battlefield of its own, a brutal war between the General and the Alpha. The Alpha, a raw, snarling thing, wanted to storm the royal tent, to answer the call, to find the source of that maddening scent and claim it, to brand it with her teeth and her scent until the entire world knew who this Omega belonged to. The General, the loyal subject who had secretly, hopelessly loved this woman for years, forced herself to remain still, to focus on the lines and figures, her jaw so tight it ached, a low, frustrated growl a permanent, vibrating fixture in the back of her throat. She swallowed it down, again and again, a bitter pill of denial.
The flap of her tent was pushed aside without ceremony. Agula did not need to look up. The scent, which had been a tantalizing torture from a distance, was now a tidal wave, flooding the small space, seeking to drown her in its depths. It was so potent it made the air thick, shimmering in the lamplight, clinging to the back of her tongue like the sweetest wine.
"Your Majesty," Agula said, her voice a low, steady rumble, though it cost her a monumental effort to keep it so. She remained on one knee, her head bowed, her gaze fixed on the smudged map of the contested borderlands. To look at the Princess now, in the full, glorious, and terrible throes of her heat, would be a profound breach of protocol. It would be an act of insubordination against her own sanity. "This subject's tent is a humble, military affair. It is no place for one of your station, especially in your… current condition."
Jingnu's laughter was a soft, breathless sound, laced with a feverish edge that sent a jolt of pure, primal response straight to Agula's core. "And leave you to your maps, General? When there is a far more pressing campaign to be waged in here?" She took a step inside, the tent flap falling closed behind her, sealing them in this fragrant, intimate hell. "A battle for a territory I fully intend to win."
She moved closer, the soft whisper of her silk robes a deliberate torment against the strained silence. Agula could feel the heat radiating from her, a palpable, shimmering aura of need that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
"This subject is concerned for Your Majesty's health and safety," Agula said, her jaw ached with the strain of keeping her composure. "You should be in your carriage, attended by your handmaidens, with suppressants…"
"I dismissed my handmaidens," Jingnu interrupted, her voice closer now, a purr right beside Agula's ear, her hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of her neck. "They were fussing, and their Beta scents were an irritation. An offense." Her fingers, delicate but sure, brushed against the shorn hair at Agula's nape. "And I threw your precious suppressants into a ditch a league back. They were… insufficient. An insult. They were not what I wanted."
Agula's hands clenched into fists on her thighs, her knuckles white. The Alpha within her was no longer snarling; it was roaring, clawing at the bars of its cage, demanding to be let out. But she was Qiyan Agula, General of the Northern Armies, the Emperor's hound. She was a subject. This was her princess, her charge to protect, not to… claim. The conflict was a physical agony, a fire in her veins.
"Your Majesty is being unwise," Agula managed, her voice strained, the words feeling like ash in her mouth.
"And you are being a coward, General," Jingnu countered, her tone shifting from a teasing lilt to a sharp, regal command that was amplified a thousand-fold by the pheromonal dominance of her heat. She placed a hand on Agula's shoulder, her touch a brand of heat that seared through the thick leather of her armor. "Look at me."
It was an order an Alpha could not refuse from an Omega in this state. It bypassed rank and station. It was a biological imperative, a pull as fundamental as gravity. Slowly, reluctantly, as if moving through deep water against a powerful current, Agula lifted her head.
The sight of her was a gut punch, a blow that stole the air from her lungs. Jingnu was a vision of beautiful, exquisite torment. Her face was flushed a deep, becoming rose, her dark eyes shimmering with a feverish, demanding light, her pupils blown wide with need. Her usually immaculate royal robes were slightly disheveled, the collar gaping to reveal the delicate, rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat. Her scent was a visible, shimmering haze around her, a crown of intoxicating power. This was not the clever, calculating princess of the Wei court, the political chess master Agula was sworn to. This was a force of nature. An empress in the throes of her own power, a goddess of pure, unadulterated need, and she was looking at Agula as if she were the only worthy altar.
"You feel it, don't you?" Jingnu whispered, her gaze intense, possessive, seeing through the General's facade straight to the struggling Alpha beneath. "The beast in you, answering the call in me. It is the oldest law, General. Older than kingdoms, older than thrones. It is the mandate of the blood moon, written in our very souls."
"You are my princess," Agula stated, the words her last, desperate shield. She clung to them, to the structure and order they represented. "This subject's duty is to protect you. To lay down my life for your safety. Not to… dishonor you."
"Is it a dishonor to give your monarch what she demands?" Jingnu asked, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper that promised both pleasure and ruin. She leaned down, her lips brushing against Agula's, a soft, tormenting caress that was over before Agula could even respond. "I am not asking for your protection tonight, Qiyan Agula. I am demanding your service. You will attend to me. Here. Now."
She pulled back just enough to look into Agula's struggling eyes, her own blazing with a mix of royal authority and Omega command. "On your knees you will remain, General. But not as a soldier. As a supplicant. My supplicant."
The Alpha in Agula roared its approval at the command, the raw dominance in Jingnu's tone a key turning in the lock of its cage. But the soldier, the woman who loved her, recognized the true command beneath the biological imperative. This was not just about heat. This was a test of loyalty more profound than any battle, an act of supreme, desperate trust from the princess. With a slow, deliberate nod that felt like both a surrender and a sacred vow, Agula let the last of her resistance crumble. "As Your Majesty commands."
Jingnu's smile was a slow, triumphant, and deeply sensual thing. "Good." She took a step back, her eyes never leaving Agula's. "Now, attend to me. Not as a general, but as a lover. Show me the tenderness you hide beneath all that steel."
The shift in command was disorienting, yet Agula found herself moving, her body responding to the softer tone with a reverence that surprised even her. She rose to her feet, her movements hesitant but deliberate. She cupped Jingnu's face, her calloused thumbs, accustomed to the rough grip of a Bow hilt, stroking the impossibly soft skin of her cheeks with an aching gentleness. "May this subject… kiss Your Majesty?" she whispered, her voice rough with barely restrained emotion and the ghost of her earlier growl.
"You may," Jingnu breathed, her eyes fluttering closed, her long lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks.
Agula's kiss was achingly tender, a slow, exploring caress that spoke of years of hidden longing. It was not the kiss of a conqueror, but of a devotee finally permitted to worship. She poured all her unspoken love, all her silent admiration, into that kiss, her lips moving against Jingnu's with a reverence that made the princess whimper, a soft, broken sound that went straight to Agula's core. "Your lips are softer than the finest silk," Agula murmured against them, her voice a low rumble. "A sweetness that rivals the rarest honey."
Her hands moved from Jingnu's face, slowly, carefully, to the intricate fastenings of her royal robes. Her fingers, so skilled at disassembling weaponry and armor, now worked with a soldier's precision to undo the silken ties that held the princess's modesty in place. "Your Majesty is the most exquisite creature this subject has ever beheld," she whispered, each released tie feeling like the loosening of a chain that had bound her own heart. When the heavy, embroidered robes pooled at Jingnu's feet, leaving her in only a thin, translucent under-shift, Agula's breath caught in her throat. "A vision to rival the moon herself."
Her hands found Jingnu's breasts, cupping their full, heavy weight with a gentle awe. Her thumbs brushed over the pebbled peaks of her nipples through the thin silk, a feather-light touch that made Jingnu gasp and arch into the contact, pressing herself more firmly into Agula's palms. "Do you like that, Your Majesty?" Agula asked, her voice husky, watching the play of emotions on Jingnu's face.
"Yes… don't stop," Jingnu pleaded, her commanding facade melting under the onslaught of tender care, her body speaking a language of need far more honest than words.
Agula lowered her head, her mouth closing over one taut nipple through the fabric. She suckled gently at first, then with more pressure, her tongue flicking and circling until the silk was soaked and Jingnu was moaning freely, her fingers tangling in Agula's short, practical hair. Agula left a trail of open-mouthed kisses across the swell of her breast before sealing her lips on the bare skin, sucking firmly until a dark, possessive mark bloomed against the pale canvas. "A reminder," Agula whispered, her breath hot against the damp skin, "that tonight, you are mine to cherish."
Her hand drifted down, over the trembling plane of Jingnu's stomach, until her fingers met the damp silk of her dudou. She pressed her palm against the scorching heat there, and Jingnu cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily. Agula's fingers found the bundle of nerves through the fabric, rubbing slow, firm circles that had Jingnu's knees buckling. "So responsive, my empress," Agula praised, holding her upright with an arm around her waist. "Your body sings for me. It is the most beautiful music I have ever heard."
She knelt then, her face level with Jingnu's core. The scent of her heat was overwhelming at this proximity, a direct, potent aphrodisiac that made Agula's head spin. "Your Majesty," Agula said, looking up, her eyes dark with desire and devotion, "may this subject taste you? May I go down?"
Jingnu, her mind hazy with need, her body thrumming with the anticipation of the pleasure only this Alpha could give her, could only manage a breathless, "Yes… please, Qiyan."
With utmost care, Agula's fingers found the silken ties of Jingnu's dudou, untying them with a practiced gentleness. The garment fell away, and the sight that greeted her made Agula groan aloud. Jingnu was glistening, her folds slick and swollen with need, the very picture of ripe, Omega readiness. Agula leaned in, her breath a warm caress, a low, teasing chuckle rumbling in her chest. "You are so wet for me, Your Majesty," she murmured, her voice thick. "It reminds me of that happy memory, in the spring night behind lotus drapes. We both thought your period had come early, you were so flustered." She nuzzled against her inner thigh, her voice a warm vibration against the sensitive skin. "But it wasn't, was it? It was just this... this beautiful, desperate need for me. It seems this subject is still quite effective at eliciting such a... significant response."
Without waiting for a reply, she lunged forward, her tongue delving into her wet core with a fervent hunger that was both worship and claiming. She licked broad, flat strokes through her slick folds, lapping up her essence as if it were the nectar of the gods. She found her clit, a hard, eager pearl, and nibbled on it gently, making Jingnu cry out and her body arch off the furs. Agula kissed it, then bit it with a careful, teasing pressure that bordered on pain, and Jingnu sobbed, her hands fisting in Agula's hair, holding her in place.
While her mouth was busy lavishing attention on Jingnu's clit, Agula's hand came up, two fingers sliding effortlessly into her dripping entrance. She curled them, searching for that perfect, secret spot, and when Jingnu's back bowed off the furs with a sharp, guttural cry, she knew she had found it. "There it is," Agula growled against her, her voice vibrating through Jingnu's very bones. She began a relentless rhythm, rubbing that perfect, spongy spot inside her with unerring accuracy while her tongue and lips continued their devastating assault on her clit.
"Ah! Qiyan! Right there, don't stop, please don't stop!" Jingnu begged, her composure utterly shattered, her regal bearing replaced by the raw, honest need of an Omega in the throes of pleasure. She was sobbing now, her body writhing under the dual stimulation, her pleasure a tangible force in the tent. Agula continued the devastating ministrations for what felt like an eternity, her world reduced to the taste, the scent, the feel, the sounds of the woman coming apart above her.
After several minutes of this relentless pleasure, Jingnu's cries pitched higher, becoming frantic. "Something… something is coming! Ahh, Qiyan! I'm—!" Her warning was cut off as her climax crashed over her like a wave. Her body seized, back arching violently as a flood of her release gushed out, and Agula drank it all down, gulping eagerly, not wasting a single drop, marking herself internally with the taste of her princess.
When the last tremors subsided, leaving Jingnu boneless and panting on the furs, Agula rose up on her knees, licking her lips and her fingers clean with a slow, deliberate sensuality that made Jingnu, even in her spent state, blush fiercely. "Your Majesty," Agula said, her voice thick with her own desire and the taste of Jingnu, "you taste magnificent as ever. Like ripe peaches and the very essence of life."
It was then that Jingnu's gaze, hazy with satisfaction, drifted lower. The bulge in Agula's court attire was unmistakable, her Alpha shaft straining against the fabric, a clear, demanding testament to her own unfulfilled need. A slow, wicked smirk spread across Jingnu's flushed face. She lifted a bare foot, pressing her sole against the hard length, rubbing it slowly, teasingly through the cloth. "And what of this, my devoted General?" she teased, her voice a husky whisper laced with renewed power. "Does your weapon also demand to be deployed? It seems standing at attention without permission."
Agula groaned, her hips twitching involuntarily into the pressure. The touch, even through the fabric, was electric. "Your Majesty… this subject begs for your permission." The formality of the words was a stark contrast to the raw need in her eyes.
"You may," Jingnu said, her eyes dark with renewed hunger. "I want to feel you. All of you."
With trembling, reverent hands, Agula fumbled with the fastenings of her trousers, freeing herself. She was thick and heavy, the head already slick with her own arousal, a ruddy, proud length that made Jingnu's breath catch. She positioned herself at Jingnu's weeping entrance, both of them gasping at the electric contact. "Does it hurt?" Agula asked immediately, her voice filled with concern, pausing even as her entire body screamed to sheath itself inside her warmth.
"Yes," Jingnu breathed, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of that blunt pressure, "but it's okay… it's a good hurt. Can you… can you move slowly?"
Agula nodded, her expression one of intense focus, as if navigating the most delicate of battlefields. She leaned down, cradling Jingnu's head and kissing her deeply, pouring reassurance into the kiss as she began to push in, a slow, inexorable invasion that made them both shudder. She filled her completely, and when she was fully sheathed, she stilled, forehead resting against Jingnu's, their breath mingling. "By the gods, Jingnu," she whispered, abandoning formality in the overwhelming intimacy of the moment, "you're so warm… it feels like coming home. It feels so good."
Jingnu, her head resting on Agula's shoulder, moaned softly with each small, experimental rock of her hips. "You're filling me up… it feels so good, too. Qiyan… can you do it faster now?"
"As my Majesty commands," Agula rasped, and began to move in earnest.
The tent was filled with the sounds of their union: the slick, rhythmic sound of their joining, the slap of skin, their ragged breaths, and Jingnu's escalating moans that soon formed into a broken litany of praise. Agula's thrusts were deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside her, stoking the embers of her pleasure back into a raging fire. "You feel… so incredible… wrapped around me," Agula grunted, her control fraying at the edges, the Alpha in her preening at the way Jingnu's body clung to hers. " Jingnu… I think something is coming."
"It's okay," Jingnu gasped, her nails digging into the corded muscles of Agula's back, claiming her in her own way. "You can release it in me… me too… I'm close!"
Agula drove into her with renewed force, her rhythm becoming frantic, desperate. Jingnu's body suddenly stiffened, a sharp, keening cry torn from her lips as her climax overwhelmed her, her inner walls clenching and milking Agula's length in rhythmic, pulsating waves. The sensation was too much. With a guttural roar that was part victory cry, part surrender, Agula poured her release deep inside her, her own body shaking with the force of it. She felt the hot rush of her seed, and the answering gush of Jingnu's own pleasure, a mingling of their essences that felt more binding than any vow.
For a long moment, they simply lay connected, panting, soaked in sweat and satisfaction, the world outside the tent forgotten. Then, as their breathing began to slow, Jingnu nuzzled her neck, her lips tracing the line of Agula's jaw. "I want more, Qiyan. Is that okay?"
A breathless, sated chuckle escaped Agula. "Well, it's your fault, you coaxed me. This might as well be used until Your Majesty is fully satisfied." She shifted, feeling herself soften and slip out, a pang of loss following the separation. She looked at Jingnu, her body languid and gleaming in the lamplight. "Can you stand?"
"No," Jingnu pouted, clinging to her, pressing her face into Agula's neck, inhaling her scent now mingled with their lovemaking. "I want you to carry me. Always."
Agula's heart swelled with a feeling so profound it threatened to crack her sternum. "Alright. As Your Majesty commands." In one fluid, powerful motion, she rose, scooping Jingnu into her arms as if she weighed no more than her armor. She carried her to the canvas wall of the tent, pressing her against it, the cool, rough material a stark contrast to their feverish skin.
"Is this okay?" Agula asked, her voice laced with concern, her hands cupping Jingnu's buttocks to support her weight.
Jingnu reached up, framing Agula's face, her thumbs stroking the high, sharp cheekbones. She pulled her into a deep, languid kiss, all shared breath and lingering taste. When they parted, she whispered, her eyes sincere, "It's okay when it's with you."
Emboldened, reassured, Agula began to move again. This time, the angle was different, deeper, more possessive. Jingnu wrapped her legs around Agula's waist, locking her ankles, meeting each thrust with a roll of her hips. The pace quickly escalated from tender to frantic, the sound of their bodies meeting, of Agula's hips slapping against Jingnu's thighs, filling the small space. The canvas of the tent wall groaned in protest.
"Oh, Qiyan… yes… just like that," Jingnu moaned, her head falling back against the tent wall with a soft thud. "You feel so good inside me… so deep… you're hitting a spot that makes me see stars… don't stop, please, my love, my Alpha… you fill me so perfectly, it's like you were made for me… oh, gods, right there! You're so good to me, so good for me… I've never felt so full, so complete… your strength, the way you move… it's driving me wild… I love the feel of you, the scent of you… you're mine, Qiyan Agula, all mine…"
Her whispered praises and pleas were a continuous, intoxicating stream of adoration that fueled Agula's passion, driving her on, pushing her closer to the edge. It was in this fever pitch of sensation, with Jingnu's words ringing in her ears, that the princess's demands took a sharper, darker turn.
"Qiyan," Jingnu gasped, her eyes flying open, burning with a new, intense fire. "I want… I want you to choke me."
The words landed like a physical blow. Agula froze mid-thrust, her entire body going rigid with shock. "What?" The word was a disbelieving exhale. She searched Jingnu's face, looking for any sign of jest, but found only raw, desperate sincerity.
"Please," Jingnu begged, her hands coming up to grasp Agula's wrists, guiding them towards her own neck. "I want to feel it. I want to feel your control. I want to know you have all of me, even my breath."
Horror and a treacherous, dark thrill warred within Agula. "Jingnu, no. I could never… I could hurt you. I could…" The image of her powerful hands, capable of snapping a man's neck with ease, closing around that delicate, beloved throat made her feel sick.
"You won't," Jingnu insisted, her voice firm despite her panting. "I trust you. I trust you more than anyone in this world. Please, Qiyan. Do this for me. I need it."
Agula looked into her eyes and saw the truth there. This was not a fleeting whim; it was a deep, visceral need. The Alpha in her understood the profound symbolism, the ultimate surrender it represented. But the lover, the protector, recoiled. Her hands trembled as she reluctantly allowed Jingnu to place them on the sides of her neck, her thumbs resting against the frantic flutter of her pulse.
"I can't," Agula whispered, her voice breaking. "Seeing you in any pain, any discomfort… the thought of it destroys me."
"It won't be pain," Jingnu promised, her gaze holding Agula's, anchoring her. "It will be pleasure. The ultimate pleasure. Because it's you. Please, my Qiyan. Claim me."
That final plea, that name on her lips, shattered the last of Agula's resistance. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum of fear and a dark, possessive love. With a tortured groan of surrender, she slowly, carefully, applied pressure.
She watched Jingnu's face like a hawk, her every sense screaming, ready to release at the slightest sign of true distress. But instead of pain, Jingnu's eyes rolled back in ecstasy, a long, low moan tearing from her constricted throat. Her inner walls clenched around Agula's length like a vise, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. The combination of the physical pressure on her neck and the deep, claiming thrusts pushed her higher, faster, her body bowing against the tent wall.
Agula moved within her, a desperate, driving rhythm, her focus split between the overwhelming pleasure and the terrifying, sacred task of her hands. She saw the skin under her palms flush, saw the way Jingnu's breath hitched, and it fueled a primal, possessive fire in her gut. This was hers. All of her. Body, breath, soul.
Jingnu's climax was silent, a breathtaking, full-body convulsion that stole the very air from her lungs. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her eyes wide and unseeing, locked on Agula's. The intense, rhythmic pulsing around Agula's shaft was the final undoing. With a ragged cry that was half-sob, half-roar, Agula followed her over the edge, her own release a hot, endless flood, her hips stuttering erratically as she poured herself into the woman held captive in her arms, against the wall, by her hands.
The moment the last tremor left Jingnu's body, Agula ripped her hands away as if burned. She stared in horror at the faint, red marks beginning to form on the pale skin of Jingnu's throat. A wave of self-loathing and guilt so powerful it made her dizzy washed over her.
"Oh, gods, Jingnu, I'm sorry," she babbled, her voice cracking. She gathered the boneless, panting princess into her arms, carrying her away from the wall and laying her down on the furs with a trembling gentleness. "I'm so sorry. I should never have… I hurt you. Forgive me, please, forgive me."
She descended on the marks she had left, not with passion, but with a frantic, desperate penance. She covered the faint bruises with soft, apologetic kisses, her tongue laving the skin as if she could heal it through touch alone. "I'm sorry, my love, my heart. I'm so sorry." Between each kiss, she whispered praises, as if to counteract the violence of the act. "You are so brave. So beautiful. So perfect. Forgive this unworthy subject. Your neck is so delicate, so beautiful, and I… I marred it."
Jingnu, who was floating in the hazy, euphoric aftermath of the most powerful climax of her life, slowly stirred. She brought a hand up, her fingers gently threading through Agula's hair, calming her. "Shhh, Qiyan," she murmured, her voice hoarse but filled with a deep, sated warmth. "There is nothing to forgive. You gave me exactly what I asked for. What I needed." She guided Agula's head up, forcing her to meet her gaze. "Look at me. I am fine. More than fine. I have never felt more… complete. You did not hurt me. You loved me. In every way I asked to be loved."
Seeing the sincere, unwavering trust in Jingnu's eyes, the frantic panic in Agula's chest began to slowly subside, replaced by a wave of overwhelming, humbling love. She leaned forward, capturing Jingnu's lips in a soft, lingering kiss, a silent vow of her devotion.
Later, as the first hints of dawn tinged the sky a soft grey, Agula performed the aftercare with the same devotion she had shown in their lovemaking. She gently cleaned them both with a damp cloth and warm water from her washbasin, her touches tender and reverent, paying extra attention to the faint marks on Jingnu's neck, her expression still laced with a hint of worried guilt. She dressed a sleepy, pliant Jingnu in a soft, clean sleeping robe of her own, the plain fabric smelling comforting of Agula's scent. She laid her down on the furs and drew her close, making Jingnu the little spoon, enveloping her smaller frame with her own.
Jingnu chuckled, a soft, contented sound, and dug her head into the hollow of Agula's collarbone, inhaling her scent—steel, leather, and now, them. "My fierce general," she murmured sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. "So gentle when the battle is won."
She continued to tease, her words slurring with exhaustion. "You know, for a woman who commands armies, you make a very comfortable pillow." She nuzzled closer, her lips leaving a final, faint mark on Agula's chest, a counterpoint to the ones on her own neck. "I think I'll keep you."
Agula, listening to her princess's sleepy ramblings, felt a peace so profound it was almost painful. The war outside, the politics of the court, the constant pressure of command—it all faded into insignificance. Here, in the scent-marked quiet of her tent, with this woman in her arms, she had found her true empire. She simply held her closer, her own eyes closing, her breathing slowing to match Jingnu's.
As sleep finally claimed the weary General, Jingnu, with a final, contented sigh, shifted one last time. She turned her head, burying her face comfortably in the warm, soft valley between Agula's breasts, finding her final, perfect resting place. Held securely in the arms of her sanctuary, listening to the steady, soothing rhythm of her lover's heart, Jingnu knew this was a dream from which she never wished to awaken. It was, as the oldest laws had promised, eternal.