Oh man I’ve never explored their dynamic before, and this inspired me to, and I hope you don’t mind but it’s kind of… pure smut. So, nsfw, warnings for violence and power play, and general smuttiness. Only a bit over 500 words.

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There are ways of dealing with power, Beryl has learned. She’d done well with Serenity, the first time, and poorly with Metallia, and now there is Galaxia. She is something different. She has cosmic power, yes, Beryl wants it, but there is something more. Dominion, over the one with power, and she knows how to do it.

It is strange to think that Queens of Darkness sleep, but Beryl knows they do. She has seen the Golden Queen do up her hair in the morning, seen her stretch and yawn, secret peeks at a world yet unknown to her. So she sneaks through the labyrinth of twisted Space, around and around until she finds the place no soldier has been allowed access to. Galaxia stands with her back to the door, the first piece of her plate armor glinting at her feet.

“You seek to murder me,” she says without turning.

“I seek much more than that.”

Galaxia turns, exposing her teeth in a sharp smile. Beryl’s eyes rove over the rest of what is exposed. It is strange to see her soft and vulnerable, nothing but flesh to protect her. Though perhaps that is more than enough protection. Looking at the curve of her breasts,  Beryl feels reluctant to mar them.

“Your use could be considered expired,” Galaxia says, leaning back against the metal frame of her bed. Her back arches the slightest bit, a deliberate invitation. “You have awakened the Moon clan, and I don’t make a point in keeping soldiers who rebel.”

“So it’s kill or be killed.”

“Perhaps.” Galaxia tilts her head. “She who lets her guard down shall be lost.”

“Indeed.” Beryl lets it sit a moment before slowly lifting the hem of her dress, up and up as Galaxia’s eyes follow. She removes the knife at her garter and tosses it aside.

Galaxia cocks an eyebrow. Beryl keeps her smile to herself. Power and vulnerability are a delicate balance. She pulls off the garter, too, for good measure. Galaxia in turn slides off one gilded boot slowly.

“The bracelets are you weapon, are they not?”

They are cast aside, easier than Beryl would have liked. If Galaxia parts with them so easily, there are other threats. But as she slips out of the rest of her armor, Beryl finds it hard to keep that in mind. She undoes her zipper and steps out of her dress. Whether it’s the lack of other hidden weapons that makes Galaxia’s eyes linger, or something else is hard to say, but Beryl approaches her regardless.

She straddles Galaxia, feels her hands begin to rove. Beryl lets her throw her onto the bed, lets her rake her nails over her body before pulling her down into a kiss. Galaxia reciprocates with all the ferocity Beryl craves, there is no gentleness in her touch, only desire. Beryl lets her hands begin to explore, from Galaxia’s battle-hard shoulders to the soft underside of her breasts, down and down and—

Galaxia has a blade at her neck, summoned from nothing.

It is hard to fight the smile now, literally on the edge of a knife.

“I can always do it,” Galaxia hisses in her ear. “I hold your life in my hands.”

And yet you are not holding my corpse. Beryl pushes the knife away and pulls her back in. She has won the night.