(meanwhile)below the Ice-queen

Far to the north, in the frozen heart of Snezhnaya, the Knave knelt on the cold marble of the throne room and delivered her report.

The Tsaritsa sat upon her throne exactly as she always did during these audiences — upright, regal, and completely expressionless. Beneath the heavy fall of her white gown a man was positioned between her thighs, hips working in steady, obedient thrusts as he fucked her from below. The wet sound of the act mixed with the distant howl of the wind outside the high windows. Not a single flicker of pleasure, irritation, or interest crossed the Cryo Archon’s face. She might as well have been reviewing trade ledgers.

Arlecchino kept her voice even and precise.

She recounted the interception at the broken bridge, the three days of controlled examination in the volcanic cave, the Traveler’s unusual resilience and the peculiar effect he seemed to have on the women around him, the abrupt and violent rescue, and the subsequent pursuit that had forced her to abandon the target. She omitted nothing of tactical value and added nothing emotional. When she reached the final assessment — that the man currently moving through Natlan was extraordinary enough to warrant continued personal attention — the man beneath the Tsaritsa gave a last series of deep thrusts and came with a choked sound, flooding the Archon in thick pulses.

(https://im.ge/i/QMK514z)
(artist: Purpleh31)

The Tsaritsa did not react.

She simply lifted one gloved hand in a small, dismissive gesture. Two Fatui guards stepped forward, hauled the spent man off the throne by the arms, and dragged him away toward the lower levels. Failure to bring the Tsaritsa to climax was a familiar, almost routine offense; no one had managed it in living memory, yet a certain type of ambitious or desperate subordinate still occasionally volunteered to try.

The throne was wiped clean with efficient indifference.

The Tsaritsa’s gaze remained on Arlecchino, still perfectly blank.

“Continue,” she said, voice as cold and level as the rest of her.

The Knave inclined her head and finished the report, the echo of the dragged man’s boots already fading down the long corridor toward the dungeons while the Ice Queen sat unmoved on her throne, freshly filled and entirely unmoved by either the sex or the news of the Traveler who had slipped her Harbinger’s grasp.