Disclaimers: Gabrielle & Xena belong to Renaissance Pictures. The Blood & Roses Xenaverse belongs to Katrina. William Shakespeare, in my humble opinion, belongs entirely to himself as do other historical figures I've briefly borrowed. All is meant in fun. As for sex, yes, lots. If you're feeling prudish, don't read this. Or Shakespeare. Or particularly the Bible, for that matter.
As close as Anne is like to get to brooding is bread making. She considers brooding William's territory and well left to him. She is an intelligent woman. She runs the inn and ale house on her own, manages her husband's money and raises their daughters. She fills her days with tasks to occupy the numb space in her mind where her son lived. Still, sometimes her mind drifts as she works the bread dough with strong hands.
She realizes she thinks of Hammet as her son, not theirs. William enjoyed the boy certainly, loved him the way fathers who do not give birth, change diapers, or sit with the child while he dies do. Bad enough to lose William, not to a woman, but to theater, to London. Worse than losing him to a woman because finding herself a man would be no revenge, no evening the loss. He would hardly notice. When she had needed him, when his son had needed him, her frantic pleas went unanswered. When he finally did return, the day Hammet died, he admitted he lost track of time, he wanted to finish the season, he hadn't really believed this could happen, a bunch of other babblings that fell onto Anne's ears, but did not penetrate as far as her hardening heart. From that day forward, she no longer would read her husband's work for she and theater were sworn enemies. She is punching the dough now as she thinks of this.
She knows William's guilt has slowed the waterfall of words from his quill to a trickle. She knows she could help release him from his burden if she choose. She also knows his guilt is a bond between them she is afraid to break for fear that may be all she has left. And, God help her, part of her wants to see him in pain.
She makes the bread into loaves. The next step, letting the dough rise, can only be accomplished by waiting. She washes her hands. Outside the sparkling sunshine is being replaced with black clouds that have suddenly begun rolling across the sky. Anne looks out the open door. She can see the rain falling in the distance. It won't come to Stratford yet. Just the anticipation of rain, crackling in the air. Thunder crashes, followed by a streak of lightning across the sky. Anne turns from the door back to her kitchen to prepare the midday meal. The storm, she thinks, will come whether she watches it or no. She begins cutting meat for stew.
Upstairs, finally, in spite of the thunder, William sleeps.
"Majesty, you're awake. Is there anything I can get you?" asks the girl groggily.
The thunder breaks across the sky outside again and the girl practically jumps into the Queen's arms. Lightning slashes across the windows outside the curtained bed.
"I'm sorry, Majesty." the girl mumbles into Elizabeth's lace gown. "Storms always frighten me so."
Elizabeth strokes the girl's long blond hair. "Hush, child, tis nothing that can harm you here."
Besides me, of course, Elizabeth thinks. Here is this lovely young woman in my arms, who even smells good, breathing down my bodice, the Queen sighs. And am I thinking Queenly thoughts about protecting my subject? Noooo, I'm thinking about laying her down on the bed, stripping that gown from her slender, young body and making her scream so loud it brings all the palace guards running. Elizabeth continues stroking the girl's hair until she hears the girl's breath fall back into the rhythm of sleep, then she lays the girl carefully back on the bed, tucks her in. And crosses to the window to watch the progress of the storm. She hears a movement of air behind her.
"Good day, Walsingham."
The man behind her laughs. "No more sneaking up on you, is there, Majesty?"
"No. I've learned too well. What news, Francis?" The Queen still looks out the window.
"Dee's ramblings about vampires are true. I might not have believed it had I not just last night encountered one myself, in spite of what my spies passed on. They are old enough to have wealth amassed no mortal can match. They own Spain. And, you won't believe this, they own or occupy all of Rome but the Pope himself."
Elizabeth's laugh begins as a chuckle as she registers this information, then works its way up to a full throated roar of very unqueenly laughter, waking the girl in her bed. The maid pokes her head from between the curtains.
Walsingham, who is watching Elizabeth with some amusement, instructs the maid to fetch the Queen something to drink.
"S'truth, I have not laughed like that in ages." Elizabeth holds onto the back of a chair, steadying herself.
"It does sound ridiculous, but is no laughing matter. Their intent is to make your cousin Mary one of their own, kill you and put her on the throne."
The maid returns with a goblet of wine and water. Elizabeth takes it from her, thanks her, and gives her a smile that causes the girl to back out of the room smiling and blushing. Elizabeth seats herself and drinks her wine thoughtfully.
"Mary will come against me in her own time, much as I hate to know it. Why all this subterfugue? Why not let the humans do what we will to each other anyway?"
Walsingham sits across from her. "This lot enjoys playing with people like chess pieces. Owning countries is a game to them. Two of their leaders have bets going on who can get England first."
"Hmph. Comes from having too much time on their hands, I expect." The Queen drains her wine. "So why work through Mary, why not just convert me?" Elizabeth asks with a feral smile.
"Apparently, the one ring leader wants to do just that. The others think you too independent of spirit. They believe you might be hard to control."
Again the Queen's laughter fills the room. "All the plots against me should be this amusing."
Walsingham's expression turns serious. "This is no joke, Majesty. These beings have been playing games with humans and politics and death since long before you & I were born. Life means nothing to them."
Elizabeth's face hardened into an expression that startled Francis Walsingham because it actually made him feel fear. "Then nothing is what their lives shall mean to me. Let them know I know what they are up to and am not to be trifled with."
"But, Majesty, I--"
"I don't care what it takes. Do it, Walsingham."
"Yes, Majesty. The one they call the SunWalker is in Stratford with the warrior."
"Good. I look forward to meeting them."
Walsingham rises and goes to the panel in the wall he entered from.
"And Francis, speaking of plots, I hunt tomorrow."
"Is that wise?" he asks, instantly regretting the words.
"Because you have served me well for a long time and made me laugh twice in one day, I am going to pretend you didn't ask that." Elizabeth says lightly, swirling the wine in her cup before drinking. "Find me a squire I can trust."
"Yes, Majesty.", Walsingham answers, then exits. In the small passageway outside the Queen's chambers, Francis Walsingham, the most feared man in Elizabeth's government, breathes a sigh of relief.
"Xena?"
"Hhhmm?" The warrior responds with her mouth full.
"Why do we always encounter the weirdest things on this island?"
Xena swallows. "And we don't encounter weird things elsewhere?" She takes another bite of apple.
"I just wonder from time to time. Is it us? Do we just attract situations like fairies coming and giving us orders? And just who does that little jerk think he is ordering us around anyway?" Gabrielle waves her quill around, splattering little drops of ink across the parchment. Xena watches her lover from the bed, a smile slipping onto her face.
"And who says we have to listen to him? We should just continue on our vacation. It has been an eintire month since we had to do anything but spend time together and--why are you grinning at me like that?"
Xena tries to school her expression into something sterner. "Gabrielle, I do not grin. Besides, you know how you love to play matchmaker. I should think that would at least appeal to you."
"Busted, huh?"
"Yep."
"You were so grinning."
"I may have been a little amused by the fact that you got ink drops all over your self while waving your quill around."
Gabrielle looks down at her chest to see it spotted with ink. "Ooops." Xena picks up her napkin, walks over to Gabrielle, wipes the spots away.
"There. That's better."
"Xena, you're still staring at my chest."
"Oh, yes, so I am." says Xena, making no attempt to avert her eyes.
"See something there you want?" Gabrielle says coyly.
"Oh, yes." Xena's voice drops an octave. The pitch resonates through Gabrielle's body. They hear the first boom of the thunder outside, the resonance echoing Xena's voice. Gabrielle shivers. She stands facing Xena, feeling the energy radiate from her lover.
"Clear that food off the bed," Gabrielle orders. Without a word, Xena goes to the bed, wraps the bread and cheese in cloth, and puts them back in the saddlebags.
"Lie down on the bed." Thunder punctuates Gabrielle's words. Xena lies down. "Hold onto the bedposts. You may not let go of them until I say you can."
Xena reaches back to grasp the bedposts. Her arms are stretched out, her breasts thrust up.
"Close your eyes." Gabrielle bends over to whisper in Xena's ear.
Xena closes her eyes. She feels Gabrielle's lips on hers, parting her lips, then pulling away. Then Gabrielle's lips are replaced with a soft nipple. Xena moans around the sweet flesh filling her mouth. She draws the nipple into her mouth, sucking, nibbling, wrapping her tongue around the hardening flesh. The first breast is taken from her suddenly and replaced another. Eyes still closed, Xena finds this meditation easy. The world right now is only Gabrielle, herself, and their pleasure. No demons of past or future invade. The other nipple is taken from Xena's mouth.
Xena feels the bed shift, then her chin is tickled by curls of hair. She would like to let go of the bedposts and wrap her arms around Gabrielle's hips. But she figures she already got in enough trouble for one morning. So she settles for extending her tongue and sliding it through the delicious folds of her lover's skin. Gabrielle moans and does the same to Xena, having positioned herself over Xena's dark curls. Ah, a game, Xena smiles. She blows lightly where her tongue just traced. Gabrielle shudders and does the same to Xena. Xena makes circles with her tongue. So does Gabrielle. They go on tasting each other in this way until both are moving their hips.
Gabrielle places two fingers along Xena's wet curls, toying with the hair. "Xena, you may let go of the bed posts now."
The thunder continues outside.
Xena lets go of the bedposts, wrapping one arm around Gabrielle's hips and positioning two fingers between the folds of Gabrielle's nether lips.
"Now." says Gabrielle. On her word, both women enter each other at once, slowly, rocking their fingers back and forth in the moisture they have produced. Xena is marveling at the sensations her bard is creating, when Gabrielle adds another slender finger. Xena gasps and adds a finger to the ones inside Gabrielle. She loves the velvet smoothness wrapped around her fingers. She loves finding the hard rough spot deep inside Gabrielle that causes her beloved to moan, throw her head back and arch into Xena's grasp. She loves feeling the muscles behind those velvet walls clasp her hand.
When Gabrielle slips a fourth finger inside her, Xena knows what her lover intends. Eyes still closed, so she can concentrate on using her other senses, Xena also adds another finger, then her thumb rocking her hand slowly in and out. She feels Gabrielle muscles straining alternately to fight her and not to fight her, she feels Gabrielle's hand pushing past her restraints and curling into a ball inside her. Suddenly Gabrielle relaxes and Xena's knuckles slip into her. Xena curls her fingers into a fist inside Gabrielle, who closes her eyes too and thrusts her hips onto Xena's hand.
Xena feels Gabrielle's hand filling her, moving within her, centering every nerve in her body around that hand. The pleasure flares outward from her full cunt and she lets it wash over her whole body, all her muscles tensing and releasing, not even hearing her own voice cry out. But hearing Gabrielle's cry as her release comes as well.
Outside, the rain begins.
Xena and Gabrielle curl up in each others arms, thoughts of playwrights, queens, and fairies temporarily banished from their heads.
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