Dropped In Blood Like Cain Dropped Abel.

Queen of Hearts

Of Snakes

Of Stones

I'll take my penence out on your bones

You'll learn to love me

Give it time

Sink the dagger

You'll be mine

|{ @lalienna-dementriento }|

You and Me.

We're in this together now.

We will make it through somehow.

The cost of war

Prompt: “if you’re going to let me down, let me down gently.”

Requested: @laserglassspider

*rubs hands together maniacally,* fuck my sad mood. Time to turn this into something GREAT. Judeth...John....good luck....

As always, enjoy 💋

——————

After everything....

this is what takes the powerful couple down? The high table? No... John refused to allow this to happen. He had bled and cried and fought for this. For her. He would not relent now. No matter his hatred for the table. She was still Judeth Clayton. His Judeth Clayton.

The tower was quiet. She stood frozen in the throne room. So much had happened. Lalienna, years and years ago was tried and banished. Countless balls and parties were thrown in these hallowed rooms. And then finally, she had ended it. Ended Athena. Cut off the bastard queens head. Helen has quieted the Baba Yaga in this room. Judeth could still feel a presence of Helen. She needed her...she needed her angelic strength to endure the christening of her reign. She shuddered deeply at the thought. It was behind her...she had survived. And now...now she wondered if she wanted to. For John was angry with her. Well, not so much her, but the table. She was a part of the table now. And she had to play the part of the queen. She had to make decisions she didn’t want to. And John, her lover, her black angel, tried to see through it. He knew it was for an act. He knew her intentions were pure. But it still hurt. It stung deep, slashing him new each day. He laid beside her each night and held her. But she felt distant. She felt-she felt cold. The table was wearing her down. Hell, the table was wearing him down as well. His punishment had only begun when he was beaten that day during his trial. Now she was their dog. Their slave. He had to run and bow with each beckon and call. He had to obey, for he sold his soul for his life. Just to live the rest of his days...with her.

Judeth Clayton.

Now she was afraid. She felt she was losing him. She had nearly gone insane when Lalienna showed up. The jealousy she felt. Hers and Helen combined were eating her alive! She was so angry. She snapped. In her irrationality, she pulled a gun on her long lost daughter. John was her ‘husband’. Lali was her daughter.

Incest.

It wasn’t incest. But it was. To her, it was. She was ready to pull the trigger...she almost did. She would have if John hadn’t intervened.

Tears stung hotly against her cheeks. She was truly falling into a deep pit of psychosis. Helen had relented her hold on her, but she still held the guilt of all she had done. She couldn’t handle Helens love and devotion to John. Hell hath no fury of a jealous woman.... how could she compete? They had grew up together. They were each others first love. And then Helen was his latest. He loved her with the fire of a thousand suns. She felt shadowed by Helen. She was a goddess. How could Judeth stand by johns side and sleep in his bed when she was not Helen.

That night was only a brick to the tower of doubt. And now she stood in that crumbling tower, metaphorically and literally. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was walking into the room. His shoes sounding his forthcoming, her nerves lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“John...” a crack in her voice showed her emotion. She didn’t turn around to face him. He stood behind her then, feet apart. There was silence between them so thick you could cut it with a knife. She felt ready to collapse; and though she wished to embrace him, she kept her stance. Finally, she spoke.

“If you’re going to let me down...let me down gently...please” she whispered barely audible. Again there was silence. More tears fell silently. This was torture. Pure, awful torture.

“Judeth, look at me.” Not a command, a request. A sharp cry emptied from her throat as she heard his voice just as broken as hers. God, they were inevitable. They were doomed. But they were impossible to separate. They knew this. They couldn’t leave each other. No matter their insecurities and problems, they belonged together. They were in this...together. Two hearts becoming one.

She turned, swallowing her pride. What little pride she had left.

“I swear to you-“ she choked. “I swore to you all those nights ago that I was yours. Completely. I pledged myself. I made it clear that I want nothing of the high table. It is my duty, just as it is yours to serve them. Please, Jonathan. I can’t take this anymore. You’re killing me. I am yours. Completely. Wholly. You’re blood, Your ring in my veins. I am yours.” She gel to her knees, clutching her chest. Her heart- she was afraid it might literally break. She had never felt this way. Gregory, she did not love. That was not a marriage. That was a job. A punishment. Abuse. But John...she loved him. She wanted him so much it ached. “I swear to you...once more my love, that I have no intention, no want or need to rule. I would throw away this fucking crown if I could. I hate it. I despise it. I-I-“ She could no longer speak. She just heaved, almost vomiting. He was on his knees as well, pulling her into him. She shushed her gently, rocking her. This wasn’t the first time they held each other in this room. After Athena’s death. After Helen broke the Baba Yaga. They embraced. Now was no different. They both sat broken in each others touch, clutching to their lover for dear life. They feared each other. But they could not live without each other.

“I know. I know. Forgive me.” He mumbled in her hair, choking on his own tears.

They sat there. And they consoled each other with their words, touch, and kisses. They were broken lovers. But slowly, achingly slow, the shatters in their hearts began to mend. Almost reluctantly, the scar tissue began to cover the wounds of their hearts, healing. Together.

Together they fell. Together they would rise.

| Whoever decided the birds are free? |

Oh, she was such a pretty girl! Darling Devina. That is what all the initiates called her. And when she announced that her willing suitor would propose to take her hand in marriage, the entire Tower was in an uproar of joy. The Queen was in good spirits. The engagement party alone would be extremely grand, held in the main hall. Because that was where all the engagement parties for the ladies were held. And on that night they would be permitted to sit at the right hand of the Queen. A place of high honour. Because a bride to be was still a bride and she earned her place at Athena’s side. She was showered with blessings, a dowery valued in the absolute hundreds of thousands. Dresses, jewels, cars, shoes and cosmetics. The ladies were wanting of nothing under Athena’s care. Cruel and cold as the old Queen was, she was not entirely heartless. She still mourned the passing of her own husband. Tuberculosis of the lungs took him. A dreadful disease. He suffered for years at her side until at last, he begged Athena’s final mercy. It was said she poisoned him in his sleep and lay with his cool body for a whole day and night before she would relent to have him interred. 

But Devina Dentent. Well, she was a special flower. Master Karth’s pride and joy. She had been Lalienna’s best friend. Karth knew this. And he was always sympathetic to her when she choked on her tears in the training yards and fought with the maids. Because she didn’t want Lalienna’s old bed touched, or remade, or moved. She missed her friend. Her sister in arms... Her one-time fleeting girlish lover. Now she was a married woman. She’d tasted her first man and she wasn’t disappointed. Perhaps, a little overwhelmed. Perhaps, a little underwhelmed. She wasn’t sure what to expect. But he was kind-hearted and gentle for a husband and he respected that Devina was a White Woman of the Tower of London. She had not been selected as an Elite Associate under the hands of the Thirteen Hand Maids to the Queen.  And she did request an audience with the Lady Judeth Clayton to ask if perhaps she might be worthy of a traineeship under her sponsor. Master Karth, however, declined the request before Judeth could speak. She was on twenty-four-hour continuous surveillance it seemed. And he would not let Lady Clayton out of his sight for as long as he could help it whilst in the palace. And whilst he worked, the Hand Maid was escorted by Black Guard in pairs. Always in pairs. They watched the White Woman eat, sleep, relieve herself and bathe. And if she attempted to request permission of the guards to let her approach and speak with Judeth directly, they immediately sent her away. 

“But I don’t understand!? Why won’t you at least let me talk to her? There is no harm in this, surely? I am no danger to you my faithful Black Guard. Please... Sir... Madam... Let me speak with Lady Judeth, you may stay on and listen to every word I say.”

“We’re sorry Miss. Devina. We have our orders. Mistress Clayton is under palace lockdown. She has no conversations with any of the initiates or lower White Women until Master Karth himself proclaims it agreeable.”

“But, this is ridiculous! I just want to be given the chance to speak with her. I want to train beneath her like Lalienna once did. How can I ask her formally if you won’t let me? Am I to petition the Queen directly for the honour?”

“No, Miss. Devina. You will petition no one. You will either return to your studies, attend your training or quit the Tower to attend your husband directly. But we will not permit you to address Lady Clayton. These are Master Karth’s orders. They are final. We speak for the Queen. You will desist your demands at once.”

“But... this watch you have her under... how long for?” Devina demanded, exasperated and getting nowhere fast.

“As long as it takes.” The Black Guard replied.

“Well then at least, I beg you tell me why it is you are so diligent in your duties of her. Is she ill? Has she committed a great offence that you will not trust her with a moment’s privacy alone?”

“Death Watch.” They answered. They saluted. They marched away, Taking Judeth Clayton with them.

Later that night, at dinner, Devina sought to attend the teacher’s quarters in hopes of petitioning Master Karth for more answers. He was surrounded by his friends and colleagues, discussing protocols, politics, combat sequences and modern warfare as was his custom with the rest of the respected educators that made up their academic staff.

“Master Karth! Master Karth, I beg you, a moment of your time if you please.”

“Always a moment if not many more for my precious initiates. Come Devina, you look worried. What’s happened, has your new husband caused you concern? Do you need me to refresh you on self-defence against grabby males?”

“No Sir, not at all. Only, it’s about Mistress Clayton.”

“Ah. Another topic perhaps Devina my darlin’ Mistress Clayton isn’t exactly in the best of categories across the palace right now.”

She would not relent. She blurted the question.

“What does it mean, that the Black Guard said Judeth Clayton of the Thirteen Hand Maids is on Death Watch, Master Karth! Answer me honestly now, I cannot sleep at night since Lalienna was banished, you will do this for me and let me rest.”

Karth grew pensive. The looks of his colleagues were piteous. Judeth was always the cause of great scandal in the palace.

“Death Watch means... “ He started reluctantly. “That... Mistress Clayton has gotten so ill of the heart and mind since our Lalienna was removed... that she’s now a danger to herself. And if we don’t monitor her 24 hours of the day and night... she may do herself irreversible harm.”

“Suicide?! Mistress Clayton?! Unthinkable! No! No! Please, anything but that. She is so gentle and kind spoken with us girls. She’s warmer than any of the other Hand Maids. You must help her Master Karth, you must have Doctor Tanis put her in his hospital wards. You cannot leave her to keep working under Her Majesty whilst she is so disturbed. Oh Master Karth, it is cruel! Cruel!

“I know it is, my darling. But Her Grace, Athena will not have her Hand Maids be idle whilst the French are plotting against us from Paris. You know this love, you know this. So please, I assure you Lady Clayton needs to keep busy and her work is the balm that soothes her restless mind. She is under continuous guard and will remain so until I see fit to release her from it. Now go on Devina, return to your friends downstairs. Give your husband my fondest regards and take extreme care of yourself. For me. In a fortnight you have an important mission to attend with the Lady Rosa and her Elite Associate, Franchesca. We need you in your best form. You understand. Now rest easy darlin’ girl. No more questions about our Judeth. She’ll be right, I promise you.”

‘If I can keep her off the morphine.’ He thought to himself. He disliked lying to the girls. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But he did what needed to be done to protect them. Most of them had suffered greatly even though they were so young. Fatherless bastards. Almost all of them. Give or take. Everything from begger girls off the streets, whores and reformed drug addicts to Duchesses and genuine royalty from across the globe. They were all sourced and poached and brought before Athena. And trained. As young as they could be gotten. They’d been weaponized and trained. To be killers. To be ruthless. To be espionage agents, saboteurs, ravagers. To be breeding machines. To birth girls...girls...girls.... More and more, in an endless cycle to swell the numbers. Because Athena was a Goddess. She demanded the sacrifice. Blood and Flesh for The High Table.

And they were servants. Always her loyal servants on bended knee. Fearful to look the old Queen in the eye.

So when at last she escaped the militant watch of The White Tower. She attended The Continental and escaped her husband's adoring embrace. She sought out the famous Iris Twins. Because aside from Sir Sable, it was said these identical French blonde ladies held the keys to the city. The keys to all of London. And they did not refuse her. They protected her passage with the sleight of hand technique of seasoned and impossibly well-trained magicians. They let her gain access to private rooms, unused by other guests. Hush, now, hush. Don't say a word. Our little secret. There she met her Lalienna again. And adored her anew. Kissed her, hugged her. She looked well. Loved, cared for. Her dresses were extremely expensive, her shoes... my goodness she had so many to choose from. Many were open-toed. She had been told that her Italian suitor, Mr Santino D'Antonio was a very particular and fussy man that had some exceptional sexual proclivities that involved the adoration of her feet. She did not deny him his pleasures for she enjoyed to see the Prince of Rome attend her on his knees to personally buckle the dainty strap of leather at her ankle.

That all sounded exceptionally erotic, she thought. And their old loves flared again. The excitement of young girls, barely 21 years of age. Living such exciting lives of intrigue and destruction. They made love the way the used to. Kissing and caressing and forcing each other to decadent orgasm just as they had in the bathhouse and sleeping quarters of the girls in the Tower. It was sinful and delicious. And entirely naughty and very troublesome if their males would find out. But Devina didn't care that deeply for her new husband just yet. Yes, he was handsome and rich and treated her kindly. But they were new together. And Devina hadn't quite learned what it meant to love a man intimately yet. Even if she had already accepted him inside her body. That was neither here nor there. She kissed Lalienna passionately and escaped their private rooms. The Iris Twins were fast and efficient. They had her returned to her husband's hands without him ever having missed her, to begin with.

They were clever twin ladies. But they did what their Master told them to do. Sir Sable was a man of dizzying power with sensual eyes and calculating glances.

Perhaps that was the way of the world, after all.

All good women were made in the shadows of powerful men.

Were they really though?

- Marco Marzonni

The things we do for love....

The Keys to Our Rooms

Sable knew the truth. He was the first to review the security footage and show it to Jeremy. The Prince of Rome was hitting on the girl in Room 509. Her meal that night had been paid for by his cheque. One less to the bill for Mistress Clayton care of The Tower of London Miss DeMentriento had fine taste. Her plate was expensive. Seafood always was. Mr. D'Antonio was seemingly made of money. Powerful Italian. And spending it on luxurious food for a pretty lady as a means of impressing her was always on his charter. That was the way of things at The Continental London. Sable was busy reconciling the day's trading takings in order to process his paperwork for the bank. It was his business to know these things. What the guests ordered in the dining room. How many times they requested room service, laundry fees, parking charges, weapons acquirements, medical services, adult entertainment, night club access, private dancers, high class escorts. Accounts Payable, Administration. Everything went through his computers, through his records, though his ledgers, through his books.

And these room keys he handed his guests: They had a chip in them that unlocked doors the world never knew existed. Just like those gold coins that formed a silent currency in exchange for services rendered. Blood Money. Body Removal. Blood Money.

It became common knowledge, soon thereafter; that Mr. D'Antonio had proposed possible Camorra employment to Miss. DeMentriento. That was an exciting proposition for someone so young and so displaced from the world. The White Women, their new female initiates were bought and sold, traded like livestock. They were livestock. Expendable. Their purpose was to fight, breed, kill and die. But not here. Not in his house. Not in Jeremy's house. This hotel was a neutral ground.  House rules were simple. 'No Business Allowed' And their motto: 'An Oasis of Calm and Civility' Those were the words of The Continental London. The exact same as New York City, Rome, Barcelona, Morocco and Sydney. No matter where in the world you went. If you were part of the Gold Class Standard. Seven Stars of immaculate class and infinite style... If you wanted the Continental Experience. Then you paid the price. And you put your weapons away. And you did exactly as you were told. In exchange you got a luxurious room, as many meals as you could desire, a magnificent bar, gardens and hire cars. You got safety, security, peace of mind. You had bell hops, valets, maids, waiters, personal assistants, state of the art technology and the greatest underground entertainment anywhere in the world. It all came for a price. You wanted that gold card? You wanted the high rolling luxury? Black suits, diamonds and gold? Then yes, you paid in Blood Money.

Now only prime staff knew the truth. Sir Jeremy, the Owner/Manager. The Iris twins, reception officers and night club hostesses. And he... the Concierge. Sable.

He could gather from the records and security footage that he'd reviewed; extra footage that the High Guard exchanged for coin... exactly what was going on between the guests in Room 768 and Room 509. Mr. D'Antonio had taken a new employee to the D'Antonio Family. A new member for the Camorra High Guard. Everyone was very happy that Miss. DeMentriento, a complete underworld unknown; was secured into such a powerful house name. It would do her good. But Sable knew the truth. As did the Iris Twins. As did Sir Jeremy. That the Italian Prince was hitting on the girl in Room 509.

Your character is interesting! And I love f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat!! They are so original. I’ve been afraid to message them but seem outstanding.

Hello there dear reader,

Thank you very much for your kind words! The character of Judeth Clayton began as an original spark of inspiration and has over the past three weeks exploded into a deeply layerd tapestry that has been very well received. I hope to reveal her digital novel to the Tumblr world in time as Fortis and I labour loving together to write a truly powerful story worthy of continuing the much loved John Wick saga.

Role play writing with experienced gamers is a truly enriching pass time that leads it's self to valuable skill. Thus, I urge you to reach out to Fortis if you'd like to interact and indulge your creative urges. Liz (Fortis) is an intelligent, dynamic and deeply vibrant author. She encourages depth, description and florid imagination. For Wick, she is a marvel. Her continuity, honour code and passion marks her the best in class. You could collaborate with no better! 😁

So strap yourself in and prepare. This is a out of this world ride!

Much respect,

L. G. Spider

I gladly request a second part to your John wick fic! That was absolutely brilliant. There’s no word to describe my feelings for how shocked I am. It truly brought a tremble to my hands. ;)

Thank you for your kind words, dear reader.

At the time of it’s production: ‘John Wick: Altum V’ was originally written as a stand alone short story. However, considering it has received such warm and positive review: it’s sequential continuation may be published exclusively to this blog very shortly. We warmly invite you to check back often for updates and thank you earnestly for your support. 

If you have a specific prompt or concept that you would like revealed in the Wick underworld, we invite you to share it with us using the Ask function. 

Yours Truly,

 L. G. Spider