This story was written for the AmberCon New Courts campaign.
I adapted the character of Brigid from the Wisconsin Amber campaign as a child of the Realm of Emerald and the daughter of Fiona: I would later do the same for all seven Pattern realms as a thought experiment.
Seven Pattern Realms. Diamond, Pearl, Amber, Ruby, Lapis, Emerald and Jet. Each further apart from the others than the Courts of Chaos, yes close enough that those who know can cross between them, Each as different as the jewels that represent them: Diamond and Jet, the bright and dark Realms, eternal opposites; Pearl, the Realm that Dworkin eternally seeks to uncreate; Amber, the familiar Realm; Ruby, the Realm of blood and war; Lapis, the Realm where everything is for sale, including honor; and Emerald, the Realm of Madness, where Fiona reigns and inflicts her insane evil genius upon a tortured Realm.
Serrian, the younger brother of Gervald of the House Jerroboam of Emerald, had let it slip that he and some of his companions had grown bold enough to go beyond merely thinking of overthrowing Fiona’s despotic rule of Emerald, and had actually considered joining Llewella’s forces in Dlareme. Then, a month later, Serrian had disappeared into the city beneath the sea, embarrassing the family politically, potentially fatally.
Fiona had heard of the defection of the second heir to one of the major noble families of the realm, the family was sure of it, and she was almost certainly displeased. They waited, worrying, for Fiona’s vengeance.
A vengeance that was delayed by Fiona’s whimsy. Instead, the entire family was invited to Castle Emerald, an invitation they feared but could not and would not resist. Their only hope for survival was in obeying Fiona’s will, hoping past hope that they could entertain her sufficiently to stave off total destruction.
But when they arrived, they were greeted warmly, as if nothing had happened. They were feasted in grand style for three days and nights. By the third night, Gervald’s mother and father were almost ready to defect themselves, if only to escape Fiona’s apparently sincere show of sympathy for their plight.
Gervald returned to his assigned apartment in Castle Emerald, and stopped before the door, puzzled. The family may not be great sorcerers, but they could afford to hire the best, and no one should have been able to bypass the wards around his quarters, but it was obvious that someone had done just that. At least, no one in the castle that was not still at the banquet: Fiona was still holding an uneasy court with his elders. She had graciously and somewhat casually dismissed him as she toyed with his father and mother under the guise of a caring friend sympathetically counseling aggrieved parents.
Drawing the long dagger which the only defense he was permitted to carry, Gervald silently opened the door. The sparse apartment was softly lit by the golden light of a dozen or more scented candles that wafted a subtle perfume throughout the room.
Gervald stepped inside carefully and then closed the door and locked it, never pausing from looking around the room. In the soft light, the shadows of the room danced and wavered, but nowhere did he see an enemy within the room.
And then a figure moved in the shadows on his bed. “Most men who come to see me have their weapons drawn, but rarely literally,” said a soft, musical voice amusedly.
The figure moved into the candlelight. Lying provocatively on the bed was Fiona’s vacuous daughter Brigid, who had spent the whole dinner, in fact, the last three days, mindlessly agreeing with everything her mother had said, while eyeing Gervald with half-hidden, predatory speculation. Fiona had dismissed her from dinner at same time she had dismissed Gervald, and it must have been her familiarity with the castle that enabled her to reach his quarters before him.
Brigid rose and raised her arms to him in unmistakable invitation. An erotic scent drifted across the room, redolent of the allure of exotic flowers and spices. Gervald breathed in the heady aroma, and found his senses spiraling and swirling. He closed his eyes in an effort to clear his head. When he opened his eyes moments later, he found that he had crossed the several paces of the floor to stand next to the bed, looking down at Brigid. She playfully ran her fingers down the front of his robe.
“I take my pleasure as I can find it, whenever and wherever I find it,” said Brigid. “Mother doesn’t care one way or another.”
Her brilliant green eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight: Gervald could see primal urges swirling deep within those eyes, urges that he found himself quite willing to surrender to. He responded with a low growl as the dagger dropped from his hand to clatter upon the bare stone floor. He climbed onto the bed, his long legs straddling Brigid. She laid back, her coppery‑red hair glowing like a shower of fire against her pale shoulders in the golden candlelight.
The sash about Brigid’s waist became conveniently untied, and he unfolded her robes to reveal her pale and slender form, which took on a golden glow from the light of the candles. He cupped her breasts, relishing the feel of their softness and fullness under his calloused hands. She closed her brilliant eyes and smiled as he stroked her breasts, then continued to run his hands down her sides and back up to spread apart her fiery hair.
At a word from Brigid, Gervald’s robes parted, and they fell open to reveal his well‑muscled chest. Brigid stroked the thick curly hair across his chest, the candlelight sparkling from the rainbow of colors of the jewels of her many rings, all the while sounding a low hum of pleasure deep in her throat. She looked up, meeting his eyes again, eying him now not with speculation but firm, certain knowledge.
At her unspoken invitation, Gervald leaned down and greedily fastened his lips upon Brigid’s, and was rewarded with an immediate and passionate response. She threw her arms around him, as she lowered him down upon her, uniting them in passion.
“Gervald …” said Brigid softly.
Gervald slowly opened his eyes and gazed sleepily at Brigid lying beside him. Smiling gently, Brigid rolled him over on his back as she over rolled herself to straddle him. She brushed his fair hair back from his face and started to stroke his temples, feeling for the slow beat of his heart under her gentle fingers. Slowly, deliberately, she began to blink her eyes in time to his heartbeat. Her head moved slowly from side to side, in time with his heartbeat. At the same time, she started to croon softly, barely audible, a sound that was like the soft music of a mother soothing her child, a sound that rose and fell like a gentle tide, a tide that focused his attention, then carried away any resistance he might have been able to muster.
Gervald gazed sleepily into Brigid’s emerald eyes: they seemed to glow, reflecting the golden candlelight. As her head moved first to the left and to the right, Gervald’s eyes seemed drawn to follow those eyes.
Brigid leaned closer. She slowly opened her eyes wider, drawing his gaze deeper into their depths. The candlelight glittered in her eyes, and seemed to awaken a soft emerald shining in their depths that drew his attention like a moth to a candle. “Sleeeeep … deep sleep …wonderful, deep sleep … deep, wonderful sleep … deep, wonderful surrender …” she crooned gently. “Sleep … deep sleep … your eyes are heavy with sleep … deep, wonderful sleep … close your eyes and sleep …” As she looked into his eyes, she felt his sleepy mind beginning to respond to her gentle but irresistible hypnotic suggestions.
Soon Gervald’s eyes were feeling too heavy to keep open, as they fought to continue to gaze into the fascinating depths of her eyes, which had stopped blinking and were now staring intently into his own with a force and power that gently but irresistibly compelled his attention. “Sleep … listen to me … and sleep …” she continued, her voice becoming more and more compelling yet still retaining its gentle caress upon his ears. “Close your eyes and sleep … sleep and surrender … listen … surrender and sleep … obey and sleep …”
Gervald’s consciousness was now completely and utterly focused on her eyes and her voice. He knew that he needed to sleep, that he felt so sleepy, so very tired, and it was so very pleasant to gaze into Brigid’s brilliant, beautiful green eyes and to listen to Brigid’s gentle, musical, compelling voice. It was the right thing to do, to let himself sleep as she was suggesting. It was the only thing to do, to surrender to her eyes and her voice.
His eyes closed and his head relaxed back onto the pillow. He breathed a great sigh as his whole body relaxed.
Brigid smiled smugly, proudly, as she continued to gently stroke his temples, and she began to speak softly to him, her voice scarcely above a whisper yet every word she knew was passing directly into the deepest parts of his mind, where they would be almost completely undetectable to the most potent sorcery or telepathy, except for Mother, of course.
“Mother will be pleased,” thought Brigid afterwards, impressed by how easy it was. In the coming months, Gervald would discover that he, too, would want to join Llewella’s forces. As it was already an idea that he had had himself, strengthened, magnified and reinforced through Brigid’s gentle mesmerism and not imposed by spell or domination, no power would be able to detect that it was not genuine.
Also genuine would be the passionate desire to return to Brigid’s arms, and gaze into her eyes, where the secrets of Llewella’s forces would be hers, and ultimately Fiona’s. An undetectable spy, a spy who did not even know himself that he was a spy.
Brigid rolled off the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked back over her shoulder at the sleeping Gervald and smiled. She had enjoyed the feeling that her power over Gervald aroused. The feeling of another’s mind and will rendered helpless, compliant, obedient to her own aroused her desire more that she had ever known. And with the expected success of her assignment, she could look forward to many more chances for the same sort of pleasure in her future.
Unbeknownst to Brigid, Fiona had watched the entire process in her scrying mirror. She made a mental note to suggest at some later time some further study to Brigid in a few areas, such as a review of the Kama Sutra, but Fiona was generally pleased with Brigid’s overall technique. She was especially pleased with her hypnotic induction technique, even though it was aided by Brigid’s own hypnotic perfume.
But she was even more pleased at the feeling she read from Brigid as Brigid had realized how pleasurable the power over others was, especially through such seductive methods. Brigid’s own seduction was well underway.
