Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

[ENTER A WITCH OF THE ROAMING!]

This was the first Act.

Rafel watched a heavily costumed female saunter from a fake side door into a devised Throne room of sorts. The woman was old, her face crinkled and her fingers gnarled. For so she was made to be perceived. But Rafel could see under the perfect, astonishing makeup and knew she wasn't an old hag at all, but the beloved and wild Raziah Fairfield.

One character down.

'As the play progresses, I shall decipher the true faces of the characters.' He promised himself.

This witch's long hat shivered as she pointed a crooked finger at the bearded man with the crown on the throne. "O wise Laius, live forever," this witch spoke to the king. The King of Thebes—the land where the drama was set. "The gods have come to me. The Fates have revealed a prophecy. As this it is told, the child in thine queen's belly shall arise and slay thee, and in marriage shall bed thy wife."

"Heresy! Abomination!" A dressed courtier yelled. It caused a mild upthrust of laughter from the darkened seats beyond the spotlight stage. The courtier was a Second Year of [Pegasus Arc] Rafel had seen around. He played his minor scene well. And even the weak characters dragged good crowd appeal.

Clearly, the academy's drama club had prepared well for it.

The rail-thin courtier pointed a finger in turn at the witch. "O good Laius, fear not this Seer. She is a prophet not of the gods for she speaks unholy things. Shall not Hera herself have kept thine seed from finding hedge in the queen's womb if this tale were true.

Behold, I too confess thy newborn son is a gift from Olympus and not some strange bambino who shalt usurp thy covenant to the throne of Thebes.

Therefore, majestic Laius! Cast this lying prophet from thine courts. And banish her perhaps to the isles of Patmos. There may she live out her heretic visions."

King Laius—played handsomely by a stout [Fourth Year]—closed his eyes and motioned for the seer witch to be removed from his presence. His thoughts were read aloud by a great voice in the background, as the good king Laius spooked by the woman prophet's prediction ordered the swift taking of his newborn son, Oedipus.

The boy acting the good king Laius played his part in commanding his soldiers so sorrowfully that he garnered quite a few tears from the watching crowd. Rafel was beyond impressed. And so the red curtains shut out, ending that scene with a company of Grecian soldiers sent to fetch and execute the baby prince.

It was conveyed wonderfully that King Laius was not at all happy at the idea of killing his own son.

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The next Act was a short one. The noise of a screaming child was heard on stage as King Laius's guards laid hands on baby Oedipus and spirited him away, to the wailing of the midwives. The queen at this point was asleep to the labors of childbirth. Rafel couldn't tell which parts of the play the producers had fictioned, but he'd heard Bolta had been a consultant in the making of it.

Who better to ask questions about the truths to Oedipus's tale than the daughter of Zeus, a god who was alive then?

Or wasn't it?

"Sorry, m'lord. Excuse me. I have to use the ladies room." Aya rose from her seat with his excuse to go and powder her nose, just as that scene was rounding up. Corazón made space for her to pass by. "Sure, Aya. But don't be long, eh.

Or you'll miss the next Act."

"I won't," said Aya to Cora as she pulled the drapes to the private booth and slipped out. Her blue skirts swished in Rafel's ears. He smiled.

His [Rank A Succubus] waifu wasn't going to the ladies. No. Not at all. She was up for the next scene. Rafel knew this. She was sneaking backstage to be prepared.

Aya Naamah had put out the fact that she was cast in a major role in the play for as long as she could—mostly for the Director's move to maintain mystique. But there was no secrets a Bond could hold from her [Sire]. Continue your adventure at empire

Still grinning, Rafel told her telepathically.

'Break a leg, fair one.'

Aya was in front of the huge vanity mirror backstage; a cloud of modistes making finishing touches to her makeup and clothes, when she got Rafel's message in her head. She blushed wide.

The Director of the play, Erryn Wingfield, a [Third Year Scribe] appeared behind her in the mirror.

"Are you ready?" She smiled at her lead character.

Aya smiled back. "I am."

There was a brief recess at this time where students all but ran to have quick pees before running back to the theater. Several grabbed pails of popcorn, chomping as the room filled again, and when the light inside began to darken again, they shifted excitedly in their seats and fell quiet.

Rafel had not moved in his gallery booth. He was certain that two of his close friends were about to be ushered on that stage, and make a magic of the night.

Peitho abrupty pinged in his head with a new notification.

[Ding!]

[Host has received a tunic of crimson dragonscale from Rank S beast girl, Zarathustra.]

[Her gift is ranked EPIC!]

[Blood Tunic is available in Hel pocket dimension.]

[Zarathustra also wishes to know if you have considered her request to be accepted into your harem as a bonded Dragon. If Host agrees, the perks to come with siring the red dragon include—]

"Let's do this later. The play is about to resume. As for Zara, she's immortal. She can wait." Rafel told Peitho. "Let her know I haven't made my decision yet. I will not be cornered into an eternal decision by a gift."

He flushed his system's sultry voice quiet in his head and relaxed in his grand one-seater as the curtains on the stage parted. A wondrous narrator's voice announced from the rising white mist:

"Behold! TWENTY YEARS LATER! In the gardens of the royal villa of Thebes. A young conquerer has bested King Laius's armies in battle, and has come forth to claim the throne. This young conqueror encounters the Queen on his way back from the spoils of war. Good King Laius has fallen in battle, sent into the fiery realms of Tartarus by the sword of this intriguing young conquerer."

Out from the mist—which made the stage look like it was morning, a strikingly beautiful woman stepped into the makeshift garden. Roses lined the ground at her feet and the spotlight glowed soft amber on her like it was the dawn sun. She had garlands on her wrists and a silver tiara in her rich brown hair.

Her regal skirts swept the path of flowers, and she put out her hand to the overbearing hedge. This woman was well rounded in the chest and behind areas. And seats in the room made scraping noises as the crowd beyond the stage leaned in for a better view.

And then she gingerly turned her face to the spotlight.

She was shockingly gorgeous. She stole the crowd's breath away.

"Oh my gahd!" Ravenna's accent flew out her pink lips as she jumped out of her seat. "That's Aya. Oh gods! It's fucking Aya! I can't believe it. That's our girl.

That's our girl on stage!"

She started crazily clapping and Rosa pulled her back to sit down. "We're all happy for her, but let's not interrupt the show, Ravenna. Let her do her thing now, okay?"

Ravenna nodded but free excitement still gleamed in her surreal green eyes.

Always the firebird, Rafel mused.

The second object of thrall for the night was when the young Conquerer moved up also in the gardens. His golden head shone proudly under the stage lighting and his tall, wild body as he walked for the queen. He was Percival. And Rafel smiled to himself, taking pride in his detective abilities. He had been right the entire time.

The role of Oedipus, the fated prince, grown now into a ravishing young man was played by his roommate, Percival of House Imperia.

And the role of his mother—and wife, Queen Jocasta of Thebes, was played by seductive and curvaceous Aya Naamah.

The two easily slipped into their roles and began acting the shit out of the scene. Oedipus went forward, plucking a white rose from an arch in the gardens which they stood. He approached gently Queen Jocasta with the rose in his hand. The soft thunking of his battle sandals and sweeping of his kilt could be heard offstage as he raised his hand and put the silver flower in her hair.

"You are quite the beauty, my queen."

Jocasta touched his hand to pull it away, but didn't. Her voice was as a whispering gale. "Now that you have slain my Lord and King, what is thine desire with the lands of Thebes, O young Conqueror?"

Oedipus let his hand drop to her powdered cheek. He rubbed the rose blush with a thumb, and said in a hollow voice.

"My desire is to wed you and be called thine, fair Jocasta. I wish to reign over Thebes, and as the gods willeth, with you at my side. Have me, m'lady. Take me in your bed. Let me love thee. To rush in ye as the spring water over the stream's pebbles.

Marry me, Jocasta?"

A caressing slow song began playing in the background. It was the stringing of a harp, and even without accompanying words, the music told of love—and secrets. At this point, neither Jocasta or Oedipus knew they were mother and son.

The crowd were hushed to a peep. Tranquilized in the daunting experience. Dumbstruck at the love. Hypnotized in the beautiful faces of the actors. They all felt the withering romance as Jocasta lovingly lifted her hand to Oedipus's youthful face, his chiseled jaw and impeccable mouth. The whole theater was enamored in the gesture.

"Yes." She said.

And by that single word, the Queen of Thebes sealed the prophecy that was given two decades ago about the boy who would kill his father and wed his mother.

Standing on the stage with hands lingering on each other's cheek, the curtains drew again over them. The crowd sighed before rising to applaud the exquisite dramatics. The actors and Director were wonderful. Back stage, Percival and Aya were flooded in warm hugs by the other members of the play's cast. Another recess was given before the final act.

This time Rafel rushed to go pee. All that aroma of foreign love had left his bladder full.