It seemed natural to begin in the heart of what had once been the greatest empire in history, ruling over a dominion that would be truly dwarfed by the time her plans had been completed. "We shall begin in England," she affirmed, the map shifting in response to zoom in on the British Isles. She could now more clearly tell the location: somewhere in London. In fact, as she squinted, the map close in even tighter, zooming and zooming further... she came to the realization of exactly where this genie seemed to be located, according to Darzala's estimation.
"Right in the heart of Buckingham," the genie affirmed as her ministrations shifted to her vessel's abdomen, massaging her taut, flat, perfect stomach. "One of my kind, Farrah, was buried there so many centuries ago. I expect that's why the land was selected for a palace - her power must have seeped into the very grounds themselves." Not an entirely outrageous theory, considering that in the time following the palace's construction, the kingdom had ascended from one of many European nations to a globe-spanning Empire unmatched in power and granduer.
A difficult place to visit for most, as well, but not for a royal. Mary smirked as she considered exactly how she could gain entrance without arousing suspicion. "We would be rude not to visit the newly-crowned Queen, wouldn't we?" Just a short year past, the UK's longest-reigning monarch had passed, and a barrage of successors had met unfortunate ends from old age or health complications. Only in the three months prior had a new monarch around Mary's own age, one Victoria II, had remained upon the throne in good health. A diplomatic visit to familiarize herself with the new Queen would be a perfect cover.
"I will have it prepared at once," the sultry genie replied - and she meant it, as with a snap of her fingers, all the preparations were put in place for a visit the following week. "Now... that leaves us, oh, seven days for... domestic matters..."
"Indeed it does," Mary replied with a smug expression as she grabbed the genie by the hair, yanking her in to a forceful kiss.
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One Week Later...
She had forced herself not to be disappointed with utterly lacking media coverage of her arrival. Mary remained a minor monarch in the grand scheme of world politics, not especially notable - her landing in London was little more than a footnote, a little mention on the TV of how odd it was seeing some minor queen in an openly same-sex relationship before shifting to talk about football. Her frustration was immense, but she kept her head held high, knowing that in due time, the world would come to recognize her in the manner she deserved.
Once the basic pleasantries had been handled, the typical monotony and bueracratic work completed, the time had finally come for her meeting with this fellow monarch. They had taken a scenic route through the palace, proceeding through grand old architecture and storied halls that would have dazzled the old Mary. Even now, she found herself admiring the breathtaking craftsmanship, taking mental notes for alterations she wished for Darzala to make in their own home. One day, her palace would need to be the most splendid on Earth - it was good to know what the competition was like.
Finally, Mary and her consort were escorted into a meeting hall filled to the brim with reporters and spectators, marching out from one end to meet the queen walking to her from the opposite side of the room. And she was a splendid young thing - a beautiful face, blue eyes overflowing with kindness, framed by meticulously-style platinum blonde hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. Had Mary run across such a gorgeous young woman in the street, she would have demanded Darzala add her to the queen's harem at once. Even in the case of so prominent a monarch, the thought crossed her mind.
Yet it was the woman walking right behind her, an equally beautiful lady with delicious arabic features, that caused a tinge of electricity to fly up Darzala's spine, and thus Mary's in turn. It was a feeling of... recognition. One that seemed to be shared, if the brief glance into the lady's eyes was anything to go by. The sensation of having recognized another of your own tribe, of your own kind... a name flashed across her mind, and instantly, Mary found herself far, far more intrigued in this fellow monarch.
The Queen of England was being accompanied by a genie of her own.
They exchanged kind words, of course, neither allowing themselves to show any concern or worry. Yet as soon as the pictures had been taken and they were able to proceed to a more private hall, Victoria quickly ordered the guards dismissed, gently leading herself, her companion, Mary and Darzala off to another room that she could quickly close up tight behind them. A state room, fine quarters for visiting dignitaries, and one of the rare rooms not bugged by one intelligence agency or another. The perfect spot for a private conversation.
"How the bloody hell do you have a genie?" Her prim and proper demeanor had vanished, replaced by confusion and shock as she entwined her fingers with her companion's. The affection between them was instantly obvious - she'd just decided not to make it a public thing. "Farrah said she was the only one that was free!"
Darzala smirked at the blonde. "The only one she knew of - isn't that right, my dear?"
She nodded. "I assure you, my beloved, I had thought her long destroyed, or trapped in some far-off place." Her tone towards Victoria was sweet, that of a fawning wife rather than a sultry seductress. "This is... unexpected."
"Indeed it is," Mary interjected, "But this could be a boon for all of us." Wicked ideas were already forming in her mind. "I presume that you serve as Farrah's vessel, just as I do for Darzala. I had hoped to liberate her using my own body as the container, but if you have already come to an arrangement... perhaps we can expedite certain things."