Enduring Pride
"Eccentricity is not, as dull people would have us believe, a form of madness. It is often a kind of innocent pride, and the man of genius and the aristocrat are frequently regarded as eccentrics because genius and aristocrat are entirely unafraid of and uninfluenced by the opinions and vagaries of the crowd." - Dame Edith Sitwell
His name was Prince Calibos, and he ruled a continent called New Greece. Most of the planet was covered in the clearest, cleanest water that Augusta had ever seen. While the creatures within it were unfamiliar, the water itself was much like that of Earth, blue and vast, but without salt. Augusta Byron would steal away from her duties, whenever she could, to stare at it. So many centuries before, she had stared across an expanse of water, but this time, there was no Byron across the seas. There was no Byron anywhere, that she knew of.
Augusta had been brought here, by Calibos and his elder sister, the Princess Alexandria, from Earth. Both the brother and sister were Immortals, like Byron, and they established a country that rivaled it's co-inhabitant on the planet, New Rome. Ironically, the land had been settled by the adoptive father of the two, but once the treaties were intact and trade established, they murdered him, and succeeded jointly to the throne. Alexandria was the more fiscal minded of the pair, while Calibos reveled in the power and pageantry of his lofty position. He had been seeking a royal bride, for alliance purposes, when he stumbled upon Augusta still on the crumbling remains of Britain, as she eked out a living serving ale to the flyers transporting humans colonizing the galaxy. It was her name that intrigued the Greek Immortal, but it was her own form of immortality that solidified his desire to have her under his thumb.
There was violence. Rape, of course, to break her spirit, and murder of her best friend which broke her heart. Augusta had been alive for so very long, alone for the greatest part of it, and her state of exhaustion coupled with her gentle nature, making her the perfect target. That she was, indeed, the Augusta of Byron's laments turned scandal gave Calibos the gleeful depravity he so craved. In a very short time, she was his slave, a body servant to both rulers of the new world beyond the stars. The laws for slaves in this world were stringent, and Augusta adapted, as she always had, to the expectations placed upon her. The aristocrat in her would never admit defeat, and the survivor in her knew that every despot had their time to fall.
She was owned by Calibos, nothing more than a slave who served his every pleasure. No matter what indignity he heaped upon her, she bore it in silent grace, which only seemed to infuriate the Greek more. However, when she was alone, and free to let her mind wander, she would imagine another man. Augusta would imagine a winter snow, a fire, and the laughter of the one man who had always owned her soul. She would close her eyes, and imagine that her fingers were playing in those soft curls at his collar, and he would be reading to her as they drank wine, sprawled upon the sofa. It was the last vision in her mind's eye before she slept, and it would comfort her through the endless years.
Both Calibos and Alexandria would seek to break her quiet grace, but neither's opinion mattered. Augusta was, from birth, an aristocrat. She would endure, whether in silks or in chains, all of the cruelty thrown at her. After all, she had a great deal of experience in that area.
Augusta Byron Leigh
Historical/RPF
crossposted to realm_of_boukun
His name was Prince Calibos, and he ruled a continent called New Greece. Most of the planet was covered in the clearest, cleanest water that Augusta had ever seen. While the creatures within it were unfamiliar, the water itself was much like that of Earth, blue and vast, but without salt. Augusta Byron would steal away from her duties, whenever she could, to stare at it. So many centuries before, she had stared across an expanse of water, but this time, there was no Byron across the seas. There was no Byron anywhere, that she knew of.
Augusta had been brought here, by Calibos and his elder sister, the Princess Alexandria, from Earth. Both the brother and sister were Immortals, like Byron, and they established a country that rivaled it's co-inhabitant on the planet, New Rome. Ironically, the land had been settled by the adoptive father of the two, but once the treaties were intact and trade established, they murdered him, and succeeded jointly to the throne. Alexandria was the more fiscal minded of the pair, while Calibos reveled in the power and pageantry of his lofty position. He had been seeking a royal bride, for alliance purposes, when he stumbled upon Augusta still on the crumbling remains of Britain, as she eked out a living serving ale to the flyers transporting humans colonizing the galaxy. It was her name that intrigued the Greek Immortal, but it was her own form of immortality that solidified his desire to have her under his thumb.
There was violence. Rape, of course, to break her spirit, and murder of her best friend which broke her heart. Augusta had been alive for so very long, alone for the greatest part of it, and her state of exhaustion coupled with her gentle nature, making her the perfect target. That she was, indeed, the Augusta of Byron's laments turned scandal gave Calibos the gleeful depravity he so craved. In a very short time, she was his slave, a body servant to both rulers of the new world beyond the stars. The laws for slaves in this world were stringent, and Augusta adapted, as she always had, to the expectations placed upon her. The aristocrat in her would never admit defeat, and the survivor in her knew that every despot had their time to fall.
She was owned by Calibos, nothing more than a slave who served his every pleasure. No matter what indignity he heaped upon her, she bore it in silent grace, which only seemed to infuriate the Greek more. However, when she was alone, and free to let her mind wander, she would imagine another man. Augusta would imagine a winter snow, a fire, and the laughter of the one man who had always owned her soul. She would close her eyes, and imagine that her fingers were playing in those soft curls at his collar, and he would be reading to her as they drank wine, sprawled upon the sofa. It was the last vision in her mind's eye before she slept, and it would comfort her through the endless years.
Both Calibos and Alexandria would seek to break her quiet grace, but neither's opinion mattered. Augusta was, from birth, an aristocrat. She would endure, whether in silks or in chains, all of the cruelty thrown at her. After all, she had a great deal of experience in that area.
Augusta Byron Leigh
Historical/RPF
crossposted to realm_of_boukun