Darius received a reward for his service; the Princess Aurora stood on her toes, and placed her lips against his cheek, kissing him just somewhere between chastely and invitingly.  The very edge of her mouth touched against his; all he would need do was turn his head, the barest fraction, and he would know her kiss fully.<br/><br/>"Thank you, my brave, loyal friend.  I shall not forget what you have done for me this night.  I will, I trust, see you again, and soon."<br/><br/>Closing her door behind her, Aurora waited until she heard Darius' footsteps fade into the distance, and laughed, a little wildly, clutching the stolen seal and stolen books to her chest.  She felt the power in those books, felt the power they could impart to her with her study, but felt the danger, too, in the old tomes of Balthazar.  She would have to be cautious, but the prospect of power surely tempted her ambitious heart.<br/><br/>Speaking of temptation. . .she hid her stolen treasures in the back of her wardrobe, and went to the table near the fire where she had left her maid, asleep.  Sophie was moaning softly in her sleep, her face moist with tears shed from her closed eyes, and the princess gave a cruel chuckle as she wiped them away, brought her fingers to her lips to taste the salty fluid.  Taking the pendant from around the sleeping maid's neck did not draw her out of the dream, she sensed, not as long as she stayed close.  Aurora returned it to its rightful place, the stone warm against her breast, feeding from her heart and feeding it back in turn.<br/><br/>It was not easy to lift the maid, and, cursing, Aurora wished she had thought to have Darius attend to this.  But she moved the girl from chair to her bed, and then undressed herself for the night, blew out the candles, made certain the window shutters were latched and her door bolted.  She feared that she would not fall asleep from the excitement she was feeling, but, sooner than she thought, her eyes closed, and she drifted . . .<br/><br/>. . .into dream. . .<br/><br/>. . .where her mind was drawn into Balthazar's soulcage, his realm, where he had long shaped it to his desires, where his wish shaped the fabric of being.  Aurora found herself. . .drowning?  was that the right word?  In the Lich-King's power, his will assaulting her, remembered her as a conquest; his slave, and assumed her shape in that mold.<br/><br/>In the bedroom where Balthazar was fucking Sophie, Aurora appeared.  The princess was naked, and wore about her neck a collar, and a band about each wrist.  Her slender body bore the marks on her breasts and thighs of the caning she'd taken when last she'd visited, and a short length of chain bound her collar to a bolt at the wall, and a single link her wrists behind her back.<br/><br/>The slave Aurora knelt, watching as her Master pleasured himself with the new girl.  She had not noticed the princess, not yet, moaning as Balthazar debased her, taunted her, and aroused her all at once.  "Yes. . .yes Master.  Your touch burns like. . .wonderful fire.  I crave. . .beg more. . .oh!"<br/><br/>Aurora blinked.  No, this was not right.<em>Submit</em>a voice burned in her mind.  No. . .she was. . .she tried to grab hold of the fabric of the realm, to free herself by an effort of will, but all she succeeded in doing was drawing the attention of the realm's master to her appearance.