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"The Divide: Lavender and Vanilla"

By Calima

The world slowly began to shimmer back into focus as Calima white knuckled the back of her favorite settee. Bit by bit the pieces knit and flickered back into existence, stabilizing the Queen's equilibrium as the world slowed down and allowed her body to remove itself from the sensation of being stuck on some otherworldly tilt-a-whirl. Spells of dizziness and fatigue had become far more common in the weeks since she'd restored herself to the throne - and though her ladies-in-waiting and the council of Ealdorman consistently muttered their concern, she remained stalwart in her duties.

It was low blood pressure.

It was the change of climate.

It was her choice to dwell within the stone walls of the old fortress perched beside the sea instead of deep within the waves.

It was the half-breed in her womb sucking the very life from her.

The last of their 'concerns' consistently made the mare's blood boil.

A quick flash of her eyes in the direction of the fool who dared suggest anything of the sort was usually enough to silence them and derail their train of thought - at least while they were in her presence. The cackling of crows and whispers of sparrows told her everything they dared to say when they weren't in her presence - and it was enough to leave Calima bitter and cold. She'd kill them all if she had to, and if that meant that she had indeed forsaken her people in lieu of protecting 'the bastard', so be it. That bastard would someday be their regent and they would take a humble knee to their will just as they did hers. That much was written by providence among the stars.

Of course, there would be no denial of the fact that the mare's audacious display of defiance was only tolerated due to the fact that she was the Queen. By blood, by honor, and by battle, she had proven that and with war waging all around their quiet little world, the Kelpies simply could not afford to risk her wrath nor the upheaval of shifting allegiances and colors. Like it or not, the Ealdorman simply failed to curry the same favor with the people as their shining monarch. The people had taken to and accepted her with the same zeal they had honored her father before her. The tide would never be in the favor of the council, especially when their biggest gripe was that the Queen had chosen to love and create life outside of the stuffy confines of a tradition that was largely seen as radical and racist.

The feat of 'taming' one of the 'enemy' only made Calima seem even more infallible in the eyes of her people.

It was a grand luxury to be sure.

And with luxury came creature comforts and demands met. It meant that tradition consistently locked horns with and lost in the wake of the tidal storm of a Queen bent on ruling by feeling and logic rather than ancient books written by shellfish. It was nothing less than a constant battle with the council, but the happiness of the people and their productive natures spoke volumes about her success as a leader. They were safe from the brash insanity of the war... For now... And while the constant state of unrest between her and her advisors continued to suck the strength from her, Calima knew it was only a temporary injustice against her greater nature. Eventually they would capitulate to her reign, or they would be replaced.

With her most recent wave of dizziness quickly becoming a receding memory, the mare found herself at the mercy of her heightened senses. Caressing the delicate lines of her face, the late afternoon sunshine felt particularly lovely and she soon realized that she'd found solace standing there and absorbing its comforting warmth. It was a reminder that her body still ached with fatigue and the strain of her body coming to terms with her pregnancy. The thought of all encapsulating warmth was more than just a little inviting. Bed was a thought, and an ear lazily swooped in the general direction of her chambers - but then so too was the familiar embrace of water. Not the sea, its briny currents held no charm for her in her current mood, but her pool.

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to soak until she forgot the woes of the council and everything that had transpired to bring her to that very point in time. Calima's lips parted in a soundless sigh as she straightened up, kissed the setting sun goodbye, and retreated from her sitting area to the darkened, candle-lit holds of her bath. How she could ever have desired to spend free time elsewhere was completely beyond her. Certainly such departures were something she did out of sheer necessity and a building desire to kill the loneliness, guilt and memories that threatened to consume her.

Lavender salts soon dissipated under the incoming tide of hot water, swirling in a combination of softly glowing color and a luxurious scent that beckoned her forth. Calima, at least for the time being, denied temptation. Instead she reached across the steaming oasis to fetch a bottle of cream colored liquid. It was easy to acknowledge that her ritualistic preparation of 'heaven' was a well-rehearsed dance. The little mare's chosen aromatherapy goodies sat just close enough that her short frame was never in threat of falling into the pool as she obtained them, and the flickering flames of the myriad of candles rimming the water were never close enough to be able to singe her skin or the fine satin of her robe. She was perfectly safe, perhaps even content, and most certainly practiced in every motion.

A splash of pearlescent gel was added to the brew and the sweet smell of vanilla sordidly curled forth in undulating, steaming bubbles in reward for her efforts. Along with the previous twist of lavender, the sweet, musky scent whirled in a scintillating waltz through the humid, heated air. Most would have inhaled deeply and hummed with appreciation, maybe even swooned as they prepared to slip into the embrace of paradise. Calima, however, did no such thing. It was with a rather unceremonious sigh that she left her dark stone perch, her fingers making quick work of the bow and knot of her robe's sash. It was quickly discarded, draped across a coral bench with minimal care. The ornate fans and jeweled pins that braided and held back the mare's copper and sea-foam mane quickly joined it like some sort of trophy proclaiming victory in the name of hot water. Hot water, that is, that was tantamount to being heaven.

Its fingers caressed and embraced the little Queen's delicate frame, soothing her as she slid beneath the surface and finally allowed herself to bask within its aromatic glory. With the entire chamber bathed in nothing but the dancing light of candle flame, and the Kelpie content to rest against the bottom of her pool, there was no small wonder that legends were often written in the wake of such images. Had she stopped to consider the irony, she'd likely have laughed. Instead she lay, watching in wonder as the flicker of flame played across and breathed life across each incandescent bubble of the vanilla foam shrouding the surface of her water.

Blocking out the flicker of candle flame, Calima sank further down against the water warmed bottom of the pool. She wanted peace. She wanted to be alone to battle with her thoughts and most of all... She wanted to forget. Forgetting, however, wasn't an option. To forget would be to end a legacy, to give up on preserving the past and deny salvation in the form of forging on with the future. To forget would be to give up... It wasn't an option. Even with the sound of tiny bubbles popping in her ear as the foam began to collapse, the warmth of the water strove to reach her and guide her to the clarity that came with relaxation - but when could a Queen ever truly relax? Wasn't relaxation disallowed by some regulation or another? Surely it was written between the lines somewhere. She was positive she could unearth some archaic scroll or another that could be twisted and folded into that perception - even though it would take her a bit to find it - and she would... Just not right now... Not when the forbidden felt so delicious.

As Calima languidly rolled onto her side, perfumed water sloshed heavily against the sides of the deep tub. Her eyes watched the steady flicker of the candles lining the side while the glistening wet hide of her bare hip breached the surface only to be laced with the remainder of bubbles. With slow determination, they slid across her skin in a half-hearted escape back to the water's hot surface, retreating from the cooler air as it dried and chased the suds away. Meanwhile, her eyes searched the flames as if their zaftig movements held the answers to her questions. If they did, they wouldn't give them up easily. Flame and candles often represented hope when the darkness of despair closed in, she could practically hear her mother reciting the myths and legends that had incorporated the elegant cylinders of wax and wick. These chose to keep their magic localized to them and them alone, and she couldn't help but smile wryly at them and set about moving wet curls away from her face and ears, the heaviness of her hair providing more of a source of irritation than anything else as it clung to her skin and hung in the water like spiraling tendrils of copper and seafoam kelp.

Hope seemed so much like a four letter word now-a-days, but still it beamed brightly on and chose to brand and immortalize itself. It swore, between the calming heat and scent of her bathwater - and the ephemeral flickering of the candles - that life could begin again, that there was light at the end of the tunnel where mourning and the pain of grief would dissipate into faded memory. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go. Not give up, but... Let go. The question then became not whether she could let go, but rather if she would.

And that was a decision best left tabled for a time when music and candles, hot water and the scents of lavender and vanilla weren't all beckoning the stress from every fiber of her little being. A task that she had fought against for long enough and finally, with a sigh, gave in to.

There, in the darkness, her mind was allowed to wander - and when it did it always followed the same twisted path back to him.

The scent of him.

Lured by the siren songs of memories and the comfort of her weightless solitude, the fingers of one of the Queen's hands slowly traced along her sleek body. Its curves should have been a familiar highway, but the changes brought about by her condition left her with plenty to explore. The new budding fullness of her ample breasts, and the supple sensitivity of her nipples gave her reason for her touch to linger, obeying the will and whim of her body as it begged her for such attention.

The way he looked at her.

An ear twitched as her fingers left the rose hued peak of a rather erect nipple in search of further information. While she mourned the loss of that brand of stimulation, she soon found new ground in need of exploration. Where once the planes of her belly had been toned and taught by hours and days of rigorous training and preparation for war, now began the swelling evidence that Ta'kom Ironhoof had indeed existed and was more than just a fever dream. The tips of her fingers reverently stroked the gentle expansion of her abdomen, as if coaxing and encouraging its existence, beckoning the life growing within to make its presence even further known.

The way he touched her.

Her lower lip quivered as her hand left their child, drawing sordid circles along the pale, champagne flesh along the inside of her hip. Each sweep of the pad of her index finger sent a fresh surge of lightning like desire ripping along her body until it pooled in the burning center of her core. So close... She could feel it radiating from the apex of her thighs, begging her for the sweet release she knew she craved. The weight of her fingers against the tendon where her thigh joined her body was nearly more than she could take. She could almost imagine him there, testing his weight against the saddle of her pelvis, teasing and waiting for her to come completely unwound, begging him to complete her.

The sound of his voice.

How long had it been since she'd allowed herself to feel? Allowed herself to remember the way his hands swept along her as he worshiped at the altar of the goddess he'd proclaimed her to be? Too long, she decided, when her hips involuntarily rolled against her own touch. With her eyes closed she could swear that his hands had drifted low to hold one of her legs against his body, gripping her thigh while the other stroked her sex, preparing her for him. She gasped as her fingers slid over her clit and parted her heated folds, searching to release the ache growing within her.

"No..."

Her ears snapped forward at the sound of his voice, rolling like distant thunder in that strong, quiet manner that was distinctly his.

"Why?" She panted as she paused, her tongue wetting her lips. She couldn't bear to open her eyes, couldn't bear to kill the fantasy.

The faintest whisper of his mustache against her jaw and neck sent a fresh volley of electricity through her. "Because we both know what you want, Calima." he rumbled against the shell of her ear, his strong hands finding her hips and dragging her to and over him, "We both know what you need."

Guided into his lap, straddling him came easy. Her hands made short work of running along the powerful muscles of his chest as she leant forward and allowed her teeth to graze his collarbone. The breathy groan that rose from him was intoxicating, leaving her scrambling to get closer to him, grinding herself against him. She was positively dripping. Soaked and heated far beyond the scope of the water that held them and his every touch, every squeeze of his hands on her hips, every noise only served to heighten the high and desire.

Her eagerness and appetite only served to make him chuckle. "You're so needy," she could hear the possessiveness in his voice, the way he lay claim to her reactions, "What would they think if they could see you now?" he teased.

"Fuck what they think." Calima hissed both in mild irritation and in pleasure as the blunt head of his cock brushed against her opening. Another gentle roll of his hips - and a tug on hers - parted her folds and firmly seated the head of his member just within the opening of her heated sex. The sound of her voice faded into a wanton whine of pleasure as she adjusted to his intrusion and he held her steady, stroking along her lower back.

She was positively quivering inside and out when he continued to guide her down along his shaft, "I think we both know what I'd rather fuck." Ta'kom breathed against her neck. Her head had been thrown back exposing her throat to his teeth, and he took advantage of it with a series of little nips and kisses that set her hips to bucking against the firm hold he had on them. "Easy..." He taunted, refusing to let her break free. She stilled in his grasp. The reward was the feeling of him pulling her down his shaft until he was firmly rooted deep inside her where he belonged.

Stretched, full, and completed, Calima could feel his heartbeat with every throb of his cock within her. "Closer..." She whimpered, her nails biting into his shoulders, and he pulled her tighter to him, mindful of her swollen belly as he sought to close the gap between them.

"That's a girl." he coaxed, granting her the freedom necessary to do what it was she desired so very badly. Her hips rocked as she lifted her seat and brought herself back down, fucking him for all she was worth with no remorse nor shame for her greed and need to be sated - and he was more than keen to meet her, thrusting back up into her as the prim and proper Queen became a hellcat.

His shoulders were bitten while he ravaged her neck. She'd shiver and buck, her hips undulating as he'd repeatedly sheath himself in her velvet vice. Calima had no doubt that his fingertips would leave behind proud red welts where they gripped her hips. The very thought made her quail. Her breathing grew ragged and her body began to shiver and quake with the telltale warning signs that she was so very close to breaking.

He was bent on making her completely shatter.

"Cum for me, your Majesty." Ta'kom murmured in her ear, holding firm and grinding up into her. There would be no containment of her moan of his name or the hitched gasp of her breath at the sensation of his cock beginning to bell and flare within her. Again he surged forth, erratically fucking her for all he was worth as he unleashed rope after rope of hot seed within her. The sudden heat was the final straw as she ground to meet him, hilting him deep - where he belonged. Rocking against his pelvis she shuddered and convulsed around him, creaming herself along the length of his member with a final, breathy cry of sweet pleasure and pain.

The sound of a heavy door swinging open and the hastened footsteps of a worried handmaid quickly pervaded Calima's afterglow. Water sloshed over the edges of her pool, extinguishing several candles as she quickly withdrew her fingers from her quivering slit and righted herself into a sitting position against a wall.

"Your Majesty, are you alright? I thought I heard you scream?" The older mare spoke with no small measure of concern for her Queen. Her eyes swept the expanse of the pool and the lines of the brightly hued mare lurking beneath the foamy water.

Composing herself, Calima folded her arms across her chest, irritated by the sudden intrusion and the rapid departure of her fantasy. Of him. "I assure you, I have done no such thing." She replied tersely, "Regardless... I'm done here. Please hand me my robes."

"Yes, your grace. I apologize for the interruption." The rustle of hasty footsteps made it clear that her point had been made. However, it did little to soothe the burn that came with being ripped away from Ta'kom - even just the thought of him - once more.