my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)
[personal profile] my_b7_fic
written for The Character of Color Love-fest Round Deux

Ro finished with the last of the day's petitioners, and turned to Selma. As usual, she had stood by his throne, regal and expressionless, outwardly merely an observer to his decrees. He looked at her steadily. "You disagree with my handling of the mines."

Selma returned his gaze fearlessly, and he fell in love with her all over again. "It's not my place to disagree or agree with you, Ro."

He sighed and put his hand out to her. "I know. Come with me. I'm tired and hungry, and I want you to rub my feet."

A faint smile played about her lips. "Of course, Ro." She watched as he adjusted his feathered cape and helmet-mask, and then followed at his side, as proud and silent as any of his guards.

They entered their private quarters and were served by tribesmen and women, rustling and clattering softly in bright blue cloth adorned with fringes of beads. Only Ro and Selma could wear the iridescent blue to black feathers of the akku bird, now rare because of the Federation's wanton destruction while seeking monopasium. Ro idly fingered his cape. So many birds to produce one cape. And when the birds were gone, would that mean that his people would have no ruler? It was something to seriously consider. The servers left, and the room was quiet.

Selma sat cross-legged on a mat, eating with her fingers with delicacy and grace. She had never forgot what their people were, never allowed the Federation to convince her that their ways were backwards and wrong. He reached out and took her hand, kissing her fingers. "Do I tell you often enough how wise you are? And how beautiful?"

Selma smiled. "You remember from time to time." She put down her bowl. "Are you sure it's your feet you want rubbed?"

Ro chuckled. "You're probably right about the mines. But we do need the money, to provide for our defense. Eat." He picked up the bowl and handed it back to her. "I don't want the baby to starve."

Selma smiled. "He's only just begun, and doesn't need much." She returned to eating.

"He might be a she. Our people need strong women." He reached out to stroke the line of feathers covering the slightly rounded curve of her belly.

Selma said nothing, but continued eating while Ro watched. When she was done, she pulled his left foot into her lap, took off his sandal and began rubbing it. "I suppose the mines should be worked-the sooner they're empty, the sooner the Federation will lose interest in us. But can we trust Blake?"

"Yes, I think so." Ro sighed and stretched out in the heaped pillows around him. "His wise woman told me things about him. Blake is obsessed about the Federation. He will defeat it, or die in the attempt."

Selma gazed off into the distance. "Yes."

Ro looked at her intently. "Selma, do you know something I don't?"

She smiled. "I know a stubborn man when I see one." She put down Ro's foot. "Shall I do the other one?"

"No, come here."

Selma moved close to Ro and laid beside him, pulling his head to rest on her bosom. She sang a soft, atonal melody while rubbing his forehead, and he fell asleep. She waited a while, then got up and went to a small altar in the corner of the room. She plucked a feather from her dress and burned it in the brazier before the bird-beaked god with obsidian eyes. She said softly, "Protect my man and my child, o great one." Her eyes glittered suddenly, very like the idol's. "Take Blake if you must, but leave me mine."


my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)

December 2011

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