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You have to do something!
You can't just be sulking all the time.
It's for your own good.
They tell her over and over again. The Queen and her father push her. If she had known life at Bright Moon would be such a pain in the ass she would have never agree to come. Not even if Adora had begged her on her knees, which she did not do since Shadow Weaver agreed with a simple question.
She should have known it wouldn't be so easy...It never is. What they ask of her cannot be for her own good, it was merely humiliation at its worst. Her, Shadow Weaver, to be a maid, what kind of filthy joke do they consider her. If this is her choice she might as well die, let her sacrifice go in vain. As if it is not enough that she has to walk around bare faced for all of Bright Moon to see. By now everyone has come to know her not only by name but by face to.
That is out of question.
No way forget about that.
Those are the words she gets as she asks to teach again. Her magic might have weakened, practically disappearing, but she can still do that. She's been doing it all her life, it's easy, yet practical. But it is quickly that they have shut this proportion down and Shadow Weaver realizes that she might have sacrificed herself, but they still don't trust her. She doesn't even comprehend why it takes her by surprise, no sane person would allow her near children. Not with her past of abusing manipulation, short temper and harsh criticism.
But a life of a maid, even if temporary, she cannot accept. They're expecting too much of her. To stoop so low with no dignity or grace, out of question. She rather be a gardener that covers her hands with wet dirt. At least you get a product from that. What does one get from being a servant, being looked down on?
Yet Adora comes, she comes, and she begs. "Please, accept." She turns her back to her, she can barely stand to hear her weary voice, yet alone watch her disappointing face. "I've vouched for you. I... I know you don't see how this might help you change...but I do! I know you are capable of-...Please, for me, just this once let me be right about you." And it's not that she doesn't see, she knows what their plan is. To make a selfish, power driven person like herself see that it's not bad to help others, to serve for once without the hunger for power.
The doors slam, leaving only a plain dress in the most basic nude color, it's thrown neatly on her bed. And she was stupid enough to ever believe Adora's words could not get to her dirty, little soul.
So, they assign her to the royal parts of the castle. For less humiliation, she guesses because this way she rarely ever sees the other servants, she does not really have to talk to anyone since the Queen and Micah along with her former cadets spend most of the days outside their chambers.
She rubs the floors clean, makes the beds if needed to be, brings meals when the Queen or someone else cannot attend to the dining hall and takes the empty ones to the kitchen. Before the Queens’ guests arrive, she's the one that usually prepares their bedrooms and she's definitely the one that cleans once they are gone.
The socializing is kept to minimum making it easier than she intended it to be, yet she does not feel changed, better or anything in that sense. Just more tired, bitterly upset.
"Must she always come unexpectedly." A rush of voices is heard as she steps into the kitchen "Elise has already gone home, she only ever approves of her..." to finally get her own dinner so that she may go to her room and sleep the day away. Tomorrow at last will be her first free day, there is nothing more she wishes than to be free of the tasteless clothes for one day.
"You." A louder, harsher, hoarse voice, the one that belongs to the oldest of maids, the boss one, comes. She bits her lips in hopes that it is not her she just called for, yet she knows it is as the tornado of voices and cries stops spinning. Finally turning on her heels, she is faced with a firm, stoic face, the other maids quickly taking a chance to disappear.
The boss maid steps to the small room in the back with only a glance that tells her to stay put. Shadow Weaver can hear her chattering through something and annoyed at her dinner getting postponed she scoffs. But as quickly as a bolt of lightning the maid is back in front of her. Before she can grasp what's happening a towel with bathing salts, oils and some kind of soap is shoved into her chest, and she hugs it with her arms to stop it from falling.
"What am I to do with these?" Hissing with anger she looks down at the items, moving them around a bit so that they are easier to carry.
"To wash." She shots her head up with rose eyebrows. No one had so far even requested her to brush their hair, let alone bath them. Could someone be hurt? Adora? Yet before she can voice it the maid pushes her not too harshly out the kitchen doors, "Last door on the left, royal chambers."
"What? There's no one staying th-" the doors slam into her face making her want to drop the scented liquids down on the marble floor. Still, she doesn't, rather obeying with irritation that this day had to further for longer than expected.
It is already late, the corridor alive only by the soft wind and the lights coming from the closed doors of the rooms she now knew by heart. And as she walks further down to the guest rooms, stopping at the one she has never been to or has been asked to prepare, she understands that she has no idea who she is to serve.
The thought makes her uneasy...What if she's to be embarrassed, if this is just a sick joke? She pushes the agape doors more with her leg, hands full that even if she did not forget to knock, she still wouldn't be able to. What if she has to wash some weird, old man that gets excited at the thought of women touching him, washing him? That image makes her sick to her gut, so much, she wishes to flee, to go find Adora and tell her how useless this all is.
But as the doors are fully opened, she does not know if she's more relieved or if her uneasiness turns worse. There is no old, creepy looking, rich guy. Even though the person is turned backwards, and she has not seen her since their little expedition, which was five months ago, she knows that hairstyle, knows her even if her signature clothes are exchanged with a simple white robe. So, she wishes to fight her uneasiness, the knowing that she has never seen her without her mask, with a harsh wit or a comment, but the other woman steals her chance.
"Elise, finally." The clasp of hands is heard, and her voice sounds genuinely pleased even with the words said, "What took you so long?"
"I'm afraid Elise has gone home." She finally dares to say causing their gazes to finally meet.
"Shadow Weaver."
"Castaspella." The head sorceress' voice is surprised, just as her face, but she does not show repulse at her scars even if she feels it, which she must.
"What are you-" Her hands move up and down gesturing to the disaster that was that gown, the bathing items uncomfortably filling her grasp.
"Your brother's idea I believe.", she scoffs for the second time since her dinner was ruined, "Or perhaps the Queen's, I'm not entirely sure." Her legs move towards Castaspella or rather the desk behind her. This whole situation feels like an odd fever dream and she only hopes the woman would save her the embarrassment now that she knows she is no Elise.
"And you agreed to this?" The head sorceress chuckles loudly as she walks to the doors to shut them closed. Her tone makes it look like they are old friends, simply visiting each other. But with the doors closed it means there is no way to get out of this, making rage mix with her uneasy feelings. How she wishes to yell at this woman that was incompetent to wash herself alone, ruining other people's lives.
"I'll rather not discuss my decisions with you."
"The bath is behind those doors." Angrily she picks the items she barely let go off for a second and heads where she was directed to, "Umm and please add more salt." With a roll of eyes, she starts to fill the bath with warm water, adding salt, lots of it along with the liquid scented with rose extract.
Her back is turned to doors once Castaspella comes in. She is pretending to look for the cloth she knows exactly where she left it, just so she may not have to look at her. Only turns around once she hears a splash of water and she is sure the woman has settled herself.
And so she has, since her head is resting against the bathtub, eyes closed. She has to swallow hard as she walks closer, filling her vision with so much perfectly soft skin and she's to touch it, feel it. Her knees bend until they hit the cold floor, the warm steam greets her own face as she unsurely dips the cloth into the water, careful not to touch the head sorceress.
Shadow Weaver starts with her arms, gently moving the wet cloth up and down her arm. She cannot be more grateful that the head sorceress keeps her eyes closed as with every second it becomes harder and harder to not glance down at her more private parts. So stoically and calm she stands, as if not bothered by the fact her touches replaced those of the young Elise. If their small talk hasn't filled the room, she might have thought she fell asleep.
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Four, five weeks."
"I must admit I am utterly surprised."
The cloth is passing over her defined collarbone causing her to suddenly notice the pinkish color of her chest and then as her eyes travel to her face, she finds more of that same tone scattering her cheeks. But she doesn't dwell on the meaning of it, signing it to hot water, embarrassment perhaps. As she moves to her left arm to repeat the action she did on her right, she tries not to think about what exactly she's doing. The room grows quiet as she does so, and Shadow Weaver notices she does not feel as uneasy as she did at first. If anything, she might say arousal starts to fill her mind.
Because of that she skips Castaspella's chest, almost afraid she'll linger on her breasts for too long and revel herself. So, she goes to her legs. Her palm dips under the warm water as she presses the cotton material just above her knee, yet the younger woman winces at the touch. Still, her eyes are closed, "Sorry, we travelled by horses." and Shadow Weaver lightens the pressure but continues to massage the salty water into her skin. What she doesn't expect is for the head sorceress to start rambling, "Ah, don't get me wrong, it was magnificent, especially now that Etheria is so full of life...But I haven't ridden in such a long time, plus the journey itself is dreadfully long. I haven't realized I was so sore until we arrived."
Though Shadow Weaver stays quiet Castaspella still continues while her arms pass down her knee, "That's why I called for a bath."
But she gets too annoyed of her justification that ruin her concentration. That's why she tries to somewhat change the course of the conversation, "So, you don't usually call for baths?"
"No, just after long travels.... You don't do baths I presume..."
"Why say that?" She looks up at her face to meet her gaze, yet she still keeps it shut down.
"You went the wrong way." Her arm stops just before reaching her thigh. "Usually it's neck, back, arms, chest, then legs."
She removes the cloth completely, getting ready to start this all over, "Well I can-"
"No, it's fine. Besides, I don't see the logic in that anyways. It's my legs that are sore not my back." Her hand is back under the water, that has seemingly started to cool, answering in action rather than words.
The room once again falls dead to the silence. Only splashes of water made somewhat of a sound as Shadow Weaver gradually moves her hand up the soft thighs. Now more boldly glancing at the woman's body. Eyes move from her legs, up her stomach and over chest, stopping to look at her breasts. Her blood starts to boil at the sight, mind going to places it shouldn't, her hand barely controlling the urge to touch her where she should not. It is just a foolish idea, she knows.
Yet as she comes midway to her thigh the thought starts to feel less stupid and more addictive. That is only once Castaspella lets out a little hum, one causing her to knit her eyebrows and smirk. She hardens the pressure as she focuses on the woman's face, which starts to look less calm. Her closed eyelids wrinkle and her lips press together.
That sight itself makes her blood rush faster and she can't stop herself but to move the grip further up. Moving slowly over the tender parts of her leg, stopping simply before her fingers were about to connect with the head sorceress' sex. Since no more welcoming signs come, she stops what she even allowed herself to try. Her hand moves down then to her left thigh. This time Shadow Weaver is careful not to cross the line.
The movements become more rapid and it's quite obvious that she is trying to get this over with. To her luck, the head sorceress seems to catch on it, "That's alright." She sits up, eyes fluttering open and First Ones, she's so close and so exposed that Shadow Weaver cannot do much other than look away from the tempting image as she lets the water disappear.
"Will that be all, Castaspella?" Her hand is already gripping the nob, unable to look at her due to the lust that is building up.
"Umm, could you go fetch me sunflower lotion?"
She exits the room again, cursing silently as she moves through the halls and back to the little room where she got the other items from.
"What now?" The boss maid hisses at her again and Shadow Weaver is already at the peak of her irritation it takes all her strength not to choke her and leave for her room, forgetting all about Castaspella.
"The head sorceress wants some kind of sunflower cream." Clenching her fists, she says.
"Of course, she does." Her greyish white hair moves through the shelf before rudely handing her the bottle painted in the yellow flowers. "I hope you're behaving yourself, the last thing I need is for the King's sister to complain about our services."
Screw you, old witch. She turns on her heels before she can spat it into her old, wrinkled face.
Her breathing quickens as she practically sprints through the corridors. Before entering back again she takes a deep and long inhale, and it is good she did that. Since once she opens the doors Castaspella is sitting on the bed, arms resting on her sore lap as she is still as naked as the day she was born. She hears her coming and the head sorceress meets her gaze with a gentle, yet unsure smile. "You can sit...", she looks so soft, so royally gorgeous with her scarlet cheeks, "if you want to that is." And she wants as much as she does not, she is not sure she'll be able to resist, but she wants her. Her body doesn't even remember the last time it wanted someone as much as it did now.
So, she lowers herself next to her, unsure of what it is that she is to do now. "I have heard it is supposed to ease the soreness..." her fingers take the bottle out of her hands and she watches her twist it open, but she does not put its contents out, rather turning to face her. "You don't mind?" Her brain screams at her to refuse before she enters a dangerous territory, yet her body is faster as she stretches her palm forward. She needs to feel her again, without the cotton material, just her bare hands.
After Castaspella places the white ingredient onto her fingers, she slowly starts to rub it into the warm skin of her thigh, eyes glued to it as she tries to ignore the closeness. "You're not as witty as usual...I hope I did not make you uncomfortable with such requests. If I had known Elise was not available, I wouldn't have called." Her nervousness starts to show for the first time since she came, the calm facade somewhat falling apart.
And Shadow Weaver's uneasy feeling and previous irritation at the ruined night steadily turn to possessiveness, jealousy of a sorts at the mention of that name for First Ones know what time. "Why is that?"
"Well, she always does it, I'm used to her. Besides, she has much gentler hands than thoes old hags."
That does not really sooth the wave of emotions passing through her, she hates the images of Elise or the older maids touching her silky skin. "And what does the head sorceress think of me?" A smirk takes the best of her, she's unable to help it, she wants her, badly so.
"For someone as awful as you, I must give you, you have a surprisingly tender touch."
"Is that so, Your Majesty?" She fills the question with a low chuckle, and by now she is not even putting the lotion in, just simply resting her hand between her legs, a little up her knees, her thumb makes sure to caress it gently. "I assure you I am capable of much more than tender touches." Sliding her hand up she announces.
"That, I don't doubt."
She keeps moving her hand up, "But I don't think you understand what it is that you do to me..." all until Castaspella's hand is on top of hers and she is sure she went too far. She's to be reported to Micah or the older maid.
But it doesn't seem that's what the younger woman has in plan as she whispers, squeezing her fingers, "Neither do you." Her brown eyes darken, lips stay parted and suddenly before she can grasp the change of things, her hand is being guided further up.
At last, her fingers connect to the part of her she has been so eager to touch. To her surprise she's greeted with warm and wet arousal and she's probably as needy as Shadow Weaver herself is. She moves her head until she captures her plump lips. Her kisses are hard, hungry and she doesn't miss a chance to bite down on her lip before tracing it with her tongue. All while she presses her finger firmly into her slit.
"Oh, sweet Castaspella...why not voice your desires sooner?" It doesn't take her long to start her game of torturous teasing as she rubs slowly at her clit causing the sorceress to moan against her lips, which she welcomes with much pleasure.
They part again, "I didn't th-"
"You didn't think." Shadow Weaver doesn't let her finished, taking the words right out of her mouth, "Why doesn't that surprise me one bit...Why make me bathe you if you're just going to make a mess of yourself?" Her hand applies more pressure, but her tempo stays steady. "Such a waste of time, don't you think?", but Castaspella ignores her question once again, too lost in the little pleasures she gives her, buckling her hips to try and get more.
"What should I do with you?" Using her free hand, she tucks one of the two loose strands of Castaspella's hairstyle right behind her ear. She holds her chin between her thumb and index finger as she forces her eyes back to her. "You've wasted my precious time..." her pressure starts to loosen, her hand slipping out. "How about I deny you some more?"
The sorceress winces at the lack of her hand's movement more than at the statement itself. But she too knows how to play this game of theirs and she composes quickly. Castaspella lifts the forgotten bottle of sunflower liquid, handing it back to her, "You might as well finish what you've started then."
"Now, now", the lotion is thrown on the nightstand, "We're past you bossing around." She pulls her chin closer until their lips brush lightly like two weightless feathers, "You should start obeying."
"Is that so?" Her dark lips release a smile against hers and Shadow Weaver draws her in even closer, slamming them into an open-mouthed kiss. She keeps a hold on her chin as their tongues slide against one another, heads turning left and right while muffled groans leave both of them.
Two hands move down her back, slim fingers start to untie the ropes holding it together and Shadow Weaver's heart bolts. Grasping her by her upper arms she breaks the kiss by pushing her away, "Don't." Her voice is stern with warning as she looks at Castaspella's surprised face. But she understands this is more than their game of power, more than a teasing denial and she bops her head. It's selfish a bit, she thinks, here she has her on complete display, yet she cannot return the same, but she'll make it up to her in a different way.
That's why she slips her hand inside the neat bun, pulls it into loose curls, "I think it's time we drop the tender touches." She tugs at them, roughly pulling her head back, receiving a small gasp. But she ignores it at the sight of her neck, and she lowers to run her tongue over her skin, going from her shoulder to her jawline where she places a small peck before moving to her ear. She bites it lightly, careful not to use her fangs so that an unexplainable mark does not appear, but Castaspella still receives the affection with muffled moans and she pulls her hair harder to get another one of those painful gasps mixed with pleasure.
By the shoulders the head sorceress is pushed on the bed, "Do you let all your maids touch you like this?" Her smirk is big as she climbs to sit on her sore legs.
Castaspella's face turns serious with red undertones, "I AM NOT-", but she clasps a hand over her flushed face and red lips, shushing her high-pitched voice.
She moves her lips to the skin behind her ear, which she found out, mere seconds ago, is quite sensitive, "No reason to get angry, dearest." Her hand then moves from her lips down her upper chest finding her right boob, kneading it not so gently.
"Must you always be such an inconsiderate bitch."
Her chuckle hits the tender skin once again as she pinches at her nipple before moving her palm down to her hip, "What did I say about getting angry? You should really start listening unless..." she brushes her index finger against her clit, "you want me to drag this out some more..."
"No...", she smiles gently at the stretched statement and flushed cheeks. Then she kisses her way down, lingering longer on the bottom of her stomach. Yet her companion grows eager, she feels her hand inside her hair. It pulls her down or tries to do just that until Shadow Weaver snatches her wrist and presses it into the soft mattress.
Soon her own eagerness takes over making her spread Castaspella's thighs, who in return winces at movements of her sore legs. Her arms slide from under the warm thighs to keep them open and steady as her tongue flickers over her clit. She runs it up and down enjoying the sounds it gets her, then she wraps her lips over the sensitive nub sucking at it as her tongue continues to flick in between.
The head sorceress' breaths and moans quickly turn to panting and whimpering, which only excites Shadow Weaver more, so she thrusts her fingers inside. While her tongue continues its teasing ways, she curls her fingers against the woman's walls. Just as she can feel her tightening against her, she sees the way her hands grip the white covers. Then as expected Castaspella comes in a series of loud moans and she lingers with her tongue for a bit longer, not wanting for all of it to end.
Before laying down next to her, she wipes her lips with the back of her hand. They both lay on their backs, arms brushing as Castaspella's heavy breathing gradually slows down.
"First Ones, I am so tired." The head sorceress exclaims with a disgraceful yawn. Then she feels her move and she turns her head to the side and eyes her as she takes the tube of lotion again.
"Was that too much for Her Majesty?" Her tone is clearly playful, but she still takes the bottle from Castaspella's arm and squeezes the ingredient onto her hands.
She moves with much care as the head sorcerers lays back down. Her hands actually rubbing the lotion this. Shadow Weaver's not sure why or if she's imagining it all but the woman looks even softer now than before. "Someone's going to need another salted ba-" Her sentence dies out as she looks up to meet the calm, sleeping face.
Swiftly, she makes her way off the bed, leaves the lotion on the nightstand before carefully pulling the covers from another the head sorceress, who groans slightly at it, but does not wake up. She throws the sheets all the way to her chin and with a soft smile runs her knuckles over her cheek, that did not look as blushed as before.
She does not see her the next day, rather the day after as she comes to bring her breakfast as ordered by Queen Glimmer, she finds she's dressed in her white robe. Not that it covers much as she's once again rubbing her legs with the sunflower cream.
"Sore?", she questions as she places the plate on the desk.
With a witty smile the head sorceress' eyes look up, "Ahh, a bit, nothing I cannot handle."
"Good." Her head nods as she observes Castaspella's rapid movements. Her body longs to be the one doing it. "Will that be all, head sorceress?"
"Would you like to dine with me?"
"See you tonight, Castaspella."