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Sericea's predicament |
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The war between the sidhe (elves and other magical creatures) and the angels had been going on for centuries. The reason for this war had long since been forgotten and everybody was still fighting as they were raised to do so.
During one battle, the Royal family and it's army were in tents, awaiting the next day of fighting. The king and queen shared a tent, present to boost the moral of the army. Suddenly, there was a wall of sound and the camp was attacked. Winged warriors landed in their midst and the elves ran out to battle them. They army was lured away from the camp and those who could not fight were left behind, defenseless. Queen Sericea was a proper queen, well behaved and pristinely dressed. She knew the importance of her role and dressed with elegance and minded her poise. She sat anxiously, gazing at the entrance of her tent. When she heard the rustle of feathers, she froze. As the tall angel entered her tent, she knew what was about to happen. He jumped her and she felt the knife pressing against her throat. This was the end. After cutting off her head, the angel would drive a stake thruu her heart andd she would be vanquished. She prepared for her fate as the angel suddenly stopped. His white wings closed around them. Imaël was an insignificant angel. He was simply a warrior, brought up to smite the sidhe. He was well trained in vanquishing the demons and vampires that had chosen the Sidhe's side so long ago. All it took was a good cut and a firm grip and another enemy was destroyed. He did this without question, it was his purpose in life.
This night, all would be different.
Clad in darkness, he swiftly made his way to the Royal tent. He knew his orders and his target, the elf-turned-vampire queen. Without her, the King would be
distracted long enough for the angels to prepare a tactical maneuver against this camp, seriously
diminishing their fighting capacity.
Sericea was paralyzed. Why did he not finish her off? Why prolong her agony? She felt his warm breath on her icy lips. His hand touched her arm. Before she knew it, his hand slid up her skirts. She was terrified. She instinctively knew what was to happen, although it was not what she had expected. The angel defiled her, his hot and heavy body moaning and groaning on top of her delicate self. When it was all over, the angel ran out of her tent, his head bent and his arm covering his face. She had not been slain! Imaël was disgusted by himself. What had just happened? He could not go back for her, not after what he had done. Never in his life had he been seduced by the flesh. Never did he leave a target behind. He ran off in shame, forcing himself to think of an explanation for his superiors. Sericea lay in shame. Her curled up body felt foul and wrong. She cried for a short time and pulled herself back together. She forced herself to get up, cleaned herself and dressed herself again. She sat down as if nothing had happened and waited. As the king entered, he could read the distress on his wife's face. Being defenseless against his interrogating gaze, Sericea broke down and told her husband all that had happened. He was heartbroken and mad as hell. Knowing full well what this heinous act must have done to the mental state of his spouse, he was surprisingly tender with her. He comforted her. After the battle, the Royal Family head back to the castle to regain their strength. Nothing would ever be the same again, though. The Angels had crossed a line... |
