Chronicles of Riddick, Riddick/Vaako, coup
The room fell silent with the last twist of the Lord Marshal’s dagger, the nobles and the gathered warriors silent on the tiers. Riddick shoved his final challenger contemptuously off his blade, rolled his shoulders, and stalked back up to the throne to slouch into it. Vaako stood to his left, his Dame to his right, both unmoving since the beginning of the battle; almost expressionless – the Dame’s full lips twitched, upwards.
“Something you find funny, woman?” Riddick drawled.
“I do not quite find this sort of lust amusing, my Lord Marshal,” Dame Selune Vaako responded dryly, perfectly poised. “How do you find our politics?”
“Could get to like it.” The previous Lord Marshal had missed out on this pair: a sharp adviser savvy in the shifting moods of the Necromonger society, a Commander skilled in war and in other forms of battle. Bloodlust excited the warrior in Vaako the way it did not in his Dame; Riddick could smell it – he looked up at the Commander, nostrils flared, and Vaako inclined his head, very slightly, in acknowledgement.
He didn’t yet trust either of them, naturally: Vaako had made it clear enough that he was following Riddick now because Riddick was stronger, but that, the First Among Commanders had pointed out mildly, unafraid, could change. And as to the Dame – hell, she was something good to look at, and someone good to talk to.
“Perhaps we could arrange for another coup next week then, Lord Marshal,” Dame Vaako was saying, with a sharp little smile.
“Make sure the next coup can actually hold a knife without cutting themselves, then.”
“You have just defeated a trio of our best, Lord Riddick.”
“Well, our best obviously sucked. Vaako, you hear me?”
“I will endeavor to improve our training regime in order than our men can eventually murder you to your satisfaction, my Lord.” Then again, Vaako too had his moments, and they weren’t just the bits that occasionally found their way into Riddick’s bed.
“See that you do. Get this lot to clear out. Clean up the mess. Continue our course to the Threshold. You two, come with me.”
Dame Vaako waited politely until they were out of earshot of the others, before permitting herself a chuckle. “Shall I retire, Lord Marshal?”
“Not unless you want to watch.” Riddick had a hand low on Vaako’s back, the First Amoung Commanders leaning a little into his touch.
“I am afraid that I must decline,” Dame Vaako’s eyes flicked to Riddick’s hand, then to her husband’s face, before she smiled, sharp as a knife. “Do enjoy.”
“You watch yourself, woman.” Riddick pressed the code to his door, and as it hissed open, made a low sound into the darkness that was half growl, half stuttering hiss. A sleek shadow detached itself from his bed and padded out, with an inquisitive hiss. Riddick jerked his head in the Dame’s direction, and the hellhound yawned, stretching, ambling up to her heels.
“I don’t need protection, Lord Riddick,” the Dame protested, though she was clearly pleased. The hound was an obvious sign of favor.
“Think of it as helping me walk one of my pets, then.”
“I will endeavor to exercise it in all the common areas.” Selune bowed, graceful and sinuous, and left. Vaako nipped boldly at Riddick’s jaw when the doors closed, his breath cool.
“A reward, Lord Riddick?”
“Women like showing off,” Riddick shrugged. Dame Vaako’s loyalty was born of greed, easier to buy than her husband’s; though, as he began to help Vaako with his armor, their urgency returning as Vaako knelt, tonguing up the streak of Necromonger blood that stained his trousers with a low, hungry groan, he had to say he enjoyed the second sort of transaction far more.