This particular fic is a little something that wormed my way into my head
and clamped its teeth around my skull when I first started reading Anne
Bishop's superb Black Jewels Trilogy, but I didn't seriously consider
writing it until I found fanfiction.net. The rest, as they say, is
history. I've always been particularly fascinated with the character of
Daemon Sadi. On the one hand, he's a nice guy; on the other hand, he's a
cold-blooded killer. This fic will chronicle his "court years," from the
time Saetan makes the agreement with Dorothea until Witch comes. (I'll
skip over large chunks of time, of course – a detailed account of every
moment of a 1700 year period would probably be mind-numbingly dull. Daemon
is interesting, but he's not that interesting.) Oh, and one other thing.
The "R" rating is for subject matter – you know what I'm talking about if
you've read the Black Jewels Trilogy – and a few references to slash, but
I'll leave a lot to the imagination. This won't exactly be bedtime
reading, but it won't be smut either.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, I tell you! Nothing!
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1 Prologue
Steepling his fingers, he looked across the table at Dorothea SaDiablo, not bothering to hide his distaste. "Are we agreed, then?" he asked in his deep voice.
She smiled coquettishly, her every move an open invitation. He wondered why she repulsed him so much. Oh, her face and figure were beautiful, but there was something about her psychic scent that was slightly… off. Like the faint remembered whiff of the midden on a hot summer's day. Like Hekatah's scent…
"Yes," she said. "If the child is a girl, she belongs to the Hourglass – " To me, her smile said – "but if it's a boy, he goes with you." She paused. "After the Birthright Ceremony, of course."
"Of course." She did not seem to have detected the faint wry note in his voice.
He still wasn't sure why he had agreed to Dorothea's proposal. Breed with one of her Black Widows, bring his Black-Jeweled strength into the failing bloodlines of Hayll's Hundred Families. And on the surface it seemed like a perfectly acceptable suggestion; the darker-Jeweled Blood were not so common that one could simply ignore the fact that the bloodlines of Hayll's most prominent had been producing fewer and fewer Dark Jewels recently.
Ever since Dorothea SaDiablo had come to power in Hayll.
Among the Blood, it had always been the Queens who ruled. Males and other witches might be held in close confidence, might have considerable influence with her, but it was always the Queen who ruled. Not that a Queen ruled every inch of land in the three Realms; he himself was the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and the High Lord of Hell. But even he, the only Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood, had once served a Queen, and even now, after fifty thousand years, still served her in his own way.
But Dorothea, a Priestess, held practically unquestioned authority in Hayll.
And there were rumors in the streets of Draega, a sort of uneasy murmur. Rumors about dark-Jeweled young witches having their Virgin Nights much too young, about the strong young Queens being broken before they could come into their full strength, about a subtle twisting of the ways of the Blood, a sense of wrongness in the air.
"High Lord?"
He favored her with a bland, impersonal smile. "Forgive me, Priestess; my mind wandered."
Her answering smile was a peculiar mix of warm understanding and predatory hunger. "Of course, High Lord. It's been quite a tiring day for all of us." Her smile broadened, showing off all of her perfectly white teeth. "I'll send my Steward to SaDiablo Hall tomorrow with the finished contract."
"Good." He called in his cape and settled it around his shoulders. "I'll inform you of my choice before the end of the week." He looked back at her briefly, trying not to shudder at what briefly flashed in her eyes before she noticed him watching, and walked out the door. Hoping that he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life.
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Dorothea SaDiablo waited until after the scent of the Black had left her mansion before collapsing into a nearby chair. So much power… so much power.
Power that would soon be hers through the High Lord's brat.
If the child was a girl, all well and good; a strong, controllable witch would be perfect for her plans. But if it was a boy…
A vicious smile passed over her lips. Saetan, for all his strength, was a fool. Hekatah had been right; he was still too caught up in the old ways of the Blood to consider breaking his word once it had been given. And he absolutely would not break Blood law if it killed him.
So if by some unfortunate chance the child was a boy, getting control of the child would be as simple as denying the High Lord paternal rights; once paternity was denied, he would have no further rights to his son. And he would abide by it. He might torture himself with it afterwards, but he would abide by his precious Blood law at all cost.
The smile broadened into a smirk.
At least a code of honor was good for something.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, I tell you! Nothing!
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1 Prologue
Steepling his fingers, he looked across the table at Dorothea SaDiablo, not bothering to hide his distaste. "Are we agreed, then?" he asked in his deep voice.
She smiled coquettishly, her every move an open invitation. He wondered why she repulsed him so much. Oh, her face and figure were beautiful, but there was something about her psychic scent that was slightly… off. Like the faint remembered whiff of the midden on a hot summer's day. Like Hekatah's scent…
"Yes," she said. "If the child is a girl, she belongs to the Hourglass – " To me, her smile said – "but if it's a boy, he goes with you." She paused. "After the Birthright Ceremony, of course."
"Of course." She did not seem to have detected the faint wry note in his voice.
He still wasn't sure why he had agreed to Dorothea's proposal. Breed with one of her Black Widows, bring his Black-Jeweled strength into the failing bloodlines of Hayll's Hundred Families. And on the surface it seemed like a perfectly acceptable suggestion; the darker-Jeweled Blood were not so common that one could simply ignore the fact that the bloodlines of Hayll's most prominent had been producing fewer and fewer Dark Jewels recently.
Ever since Dorothea SaDiablo had come to power in Hayll.
Among the Blood, it had always been the Queens who ruled. Males and other witches might be held in close confidence, might have considerable influence with her, but it was always the Queen who ruled. Not that a Queen ruled every inch of land in the three Realms; he himself was the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and the High Lord of Hell. But even he, the only Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood, had once served a Queen, and even now, after fifty thousand years, still served her in his own way.
But Dorothea, a Priestess, held practically unquestioned authority in Hayll.
And there were rumors in the streets of Draega, a sort of uneasy murmur. Rumors about dark-Jeweled young witches having their Virgin Nights much too young, about the strong young Queens being broken before they could come into their full strength, about a subtle twisting of the ways of the Blood, a sense of wrongness in the air.
"High Lord?"
He favored her with a bland, impersonal smile. "Forgive me, Priestess; my mind wandered."
Her answering smile was a peculiar mix of warm understanding and predatory hunger. "Of course, High Lord. It's been quite a tiring day for all of us." Her smile broadened, showing off all of her perfectly white teeth. "I'll send my Steward to SaDiablo Hall tomorrow with the finished contract."
"Good." He called in his cape and settled it around his shoulders. "I'll inform you of my choice before the end of the week." He looked back at her briefly, trying not to shudder at what briefly flashed in her eyes before she noticed him watching, and walked out the door. Hoping that he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dorothea SaDiablo waited until after the scent of the Black had left her mansion before collapsing into a nearby chair. So much power… so much power.
Power that would soon be hers through the High Lord's brat.
If the child was a girl, all well and good; a strong, controllable witch would be perfect for her plans. But if it was a boy…
A vicious smile passed over her lips. Saetan, for all his strength, was a fool. Hekatah had been right; he was still too caught up in the old ways of the Blood to consider breaking his word once it had been given. And he absolutely would not break Blood law if it killed him.
So if by some unfortunate chance the child was a boy, getting control of the child would be as simple as denying the High Lord paternal rights; once paternity was denied, he would have no further rights to his son. And he would abide by it. He might torture himself with it afterwards, but he would abide by his precious Blood law at all cost.
The smile broadened into a smirk.
At least a code of honor was good for something.