Author's Note: A Word of Explanation
"Moonless Night" was initially begun as an exploration of Solaufein's past for "What Matters The Most"; as I wrote, however, the story began to take on a life apart from my original intent. The hints of depth that the makers of BG2 gave to Phaere in the game intrigued me, and killing her off was one of the most difficult decisions that I have made to date in writing WMTM. I therefore deliberately omitted any direct reference to WMTM in Moonless Night, allowing it to continue to serve its original purpose as a background piece for that story, while freeing me up to explore an alternate tale of what might have been (economical, if I do say so myself).
Jessime will not be the Bhaalspawn who eventually appears in this story, and there will be variations in events from both the game and WMTM in this story. Only the events of "Moonless Night" will be the same in both.
Matron Ardulace passed through the iron doors of the Temple of Lolth, barely noticing the massive ebony spider sculpted into the stone of the front of the temple, its first set of arms stretching down to form the frame of the doorway. Inside, the halls had vaulted ceilings and intricately carved arches spaced throughout their length, their purpose more than ornamental. The cobwebs that festooned the upper levels of the hallways might have been taken as a sign of neglect and uncleanliness in other environs, but in the house of the Spider Goddess, these webs housed the smallest of her servants. The smallest…but far from the least dangerous. A single bite from one of these arachnids, whose size ranged from barely an inch across to the span of a hand, would either paralyze or kill (depending on the species) a grown man in seconds.
Denizens of the webs occasionally dropped to the floor from above, scuttling to the wall to ascend again, but aside from taking care not to tread on them, Ardulace was unconcerned by their presence; even when one fell into her hair, she simply paused, extending her hand to the wall to allow the creature to scurry down her arm as it returned to its web. The spiders would only bite at the command of the Handmaidens, or – more rarely – at the direct command of Lolth herself, and Ardulace knew herself to be in favor with the Spider Queen…for now.
The drow that she encountered as she proceeded received less consideration from her than the spiders, for she took absolutely no notice of them as they stepped out of her way, heads bowed in proper subservience. This was as it should be; she would notice one only if they were slow to give way to her, or failed to show her the obeisance she was due, and the consequences of that notice would not be favorable.
Equally ignored was the female drow who trailed in her wake, trying to mirror her demeanor of cold superiority, but obviously feeling less at ease, flinching when a spider dropped near her, although she suppressed it quickly. She was as tall as the matron, but rather than the deep purple robes of Ardulace, with their intricately embroidered patterns of silver in shimmering imitation of the webs that adorned the ceiling above, the younger woman wore armor of black leather and a curved saber hanging at each hip. Her hair was pale gold, in contrast to Ardulace's long, silver tresses, but her crimson eyes, the color of half-dried blood, were identical to those of the older woman.
They turned into a hall that spiraled downward, past doors through which screams echoed. The smooth stone floor was stained with dried blood, and the air was saturated with the scent of blood, sweat, urine and…something else: something dark and pungent, the sour odor of fear and pain commingling to create a taint in the air that lingered even on the extremely rare occasions when all the rooms in this area were empty.
Ardulace came to a stop outside an iron door at the end of the hall and paused, listening.
Silence. Either the Handmaidens had paused in their work or had been overly enthusiastic and killed their subject. The former was by far the most likely possibility; the Handmaidens of Lolth were highly skilled in their duties.
Ardulace was reaching for the handle of the door when the younger woman spoke.
"It has been a month, Matron."
The drow turned her crimson gaze to her attendant. "What of it?" she asked, her tone making it clear that a pertinent observation had best be forthcoming.
The younger woman hesitated, then pressed on. "The situation is becoming known throughout Ust Natha. Would it not be better simply to kill her, to demonstrate that you will not tolerate such insubordination in your House?"
"Kill her," the Matron echoed thoughtfully. "That would leave you the eldest of my daughters and my heir apparent, would it not, Rhenael?" she asked, her voice giving no hint of her thoughts or emotions.
Rhenael raised her chin, though not so high as to directly meet her mother's eyes. "You could do worse," she stated boldly. "I, at least, have not disgraced House Despana with my behavior."
"No, you have not," Ardulace agreed readily. "However, I am not convinced of your competency," she continued in the same bland voice. "Your attempt to have me assassinated was a clumsy and dismal failure."
The younger drow turned grey at her words, taking a half step back. "Matron, I –"
Ardulace held up a finely boned hand to forestall her words. "Do not insult me by attempting to deny it. The clumsy oaf that you sent into my chambers confessed everything to me before I brought him here, to be eviscerated and left alive for the rats to finish. You I permitted to live, because your actions indicate ambition, if not judgment. The latter may come with experience. However," she continued, her voice becoming as hard as the iron of the door before them, "I will not look upon further attempts on my life with such tolerance. If any occur, I will assume that you are responsible, and your sister's fate will seem kind compared to what you will face. Do you understand me?"
Rhenael swallowed hard. "Yes, Matron," she whispered.
"Good." Ardulace maintained her neutral expression, but inside she permitted herself a smirk of satisfaction. Not only was Rhenael unlikely to make any further tries at assassination, but knowing that she would be held responsible for any attempt, she would be forced to vigilantly protect the one that she desired to supplant. "As for the notion of killing your sister, it is precisely because the details of the situation have become so widely known that I cannot take such action. To kill her would proclaim to all of Ust Natha that I cannot control the heir to my House, and by inference, my House itself. Such an appearance of weakness cannot be permitted."
"But if things continue in this fashion, will not the same appearance of weakness result?" Rhenael dared to ask, albeit in a much more humble tone, Ardulace noted with approval.
"It will," she agreed. "Which is why it ends today." Turning, she grasped the heavy bronze handle and turned it, entering the room. Rhenael, her eyes afire with curiosity, followed her closely.
Phaere hung in the center of the round room, suspended by her wrists from chains that ran up to pulleys in the ceiling and down to a wheel that could be turned to raise or lower her. She was low enough to the ground that, by putting her weight on the tips of her toes, she could relieve some of the strain on her arms, but such a position would cause severe cramps in the feet and calves within minutes. She hung limply now, completely naked, every inch of her body covered in deep, bleeding gouges. Blood matted her hair, dripped from her fingers and toes to the floor, where shallow channels directed its flow to a drain. Around the perimeter of the room, instruments of torture rested upon the floor or hung upon the wall.
Over the past few weeks, Phaere had been subjected to them all. She had been whipped until her skin hung from her in tatters, flayed in inch-wide strips down her back, had countless bones broken, been burned by magefire, acid and lightning, branded by white-hot irons, and violated both vaginally and anally by a variety of devices designed to elicit sensations far removed from pleasure. She had been driven to the brink of death time and again, and through it all, she had uttered not a word, save screams of pain, fury and defiance.
"She lost consciousness a few minutes ago." Ardulace turned to face the speaker, a Handmaiden who approached them, a cat-o-nine-tails swinging lazily from one hand, the shards of metal at the tip of each lash glinting in the dim glow of the magefire that burned in a brazier against the wall. She was as naked as Phaere, and very nearly as bloody, though the blood that splattered her from head to toe was that of her victim. Her nudity might have been a matter of simple expediency, it being easier to wash blood from skin than from clothing, or it might have been for other reasons. Handmaidens selected for such duties were even more ruthless than usual, and many derived various types of pleasure from the tasks they engaged in.
Ardulace could not tell if this one – Kadrinthe was her name – was among their number. Her silver eyes, contrasting eerily with the glistening mask of blood that covered her face, were cool and emotionless as she stopped before them, bowing respectfully to Ardulace, completely unselfconscious about her nudity. "I was giving her time to awaken before I continued. If you wish to watch, I would recommend that you stand against the wall." A faint gleam of anticipation appeared in her eyes, then was gone. "This particular method is quite – messy."
So she was one of those that derived pleasure from the pain she inflicted. Ardulace filed this information away in her mind for future use as she shook her head, saying, "Heal her."
Kathindre frowned at her words. "Are you certain?" she asked. "She is still far from reaching her limits of tolerance." Phaere was completely healed after each session, not only to allow her to fully experience the pain of the next round of torture, but because Ardulace had not wanted her to have any permanent scars; she wanted no proof of what had been required to bring her wayward daughter under control.
"I am certain," Ardulace responded, ignoring her insolence in questioning a Matron, however respectfully; this was her domain, after all. "I have decided that a different approach is called for."
Disappointment flickered briefly across the Handmaiden's features, then vanished as quickly as the anticipation had. "As you wish," she replied dutifully, "although I have been enjoying the challenge. I have never had a subject so difficult to break. Her will is incredibly strong."
Ardulace did not reply as Kathindre strode over to the chain wheel and released the lock mechanism, allowing Phaere's limp form to fall to the channeled floor. Strong willed, she was; intelligent, cunning and ruthless, unmatched in combat and, until recently, unwavering in her ambition. She would have been the ideal successor to Ardulace, one of the most powerful matrons Ust Natha had ever seen, yet she had been ready to abandon it all…and for a male!
The Matron watched with steely eyes as the Handmaiden knelt beside Phaere, pouring the contents of a potion bottle into her slack mouth. No, to kill her would be as unacceptable as allowing her to leave would have been. Both would be seen as failures in the eyes of the other Matrons, as weakness, and weakness of any kind was something to be exploited in any way possible. To preserve her own status, Phaere must remain her heir, in appearances, at least, and would have to emerge from the Temple stronger and more ruthless than before. And Ardulace had realized that there was only one way to accomplish this.
Phaere coughed as the faintly glowing blue liquid entered her mouth, then swallowed convulsively, her body curling instinctively into a protective ball. Kathindre grabbed her chin firmly, forcing her to turn her face upward and pouring the rest of the potion into her mouth, holding her in an iron grip until she had swallowed it all.
"Remove her chains and leave us," Ardulace ordered. Kathindre obediently retrieved the keys to the manacles, returning to Phaere to release her before leaving, pulling the heavy door closed behind her.
Ardulace watched silently, Rhenael to her left and slightly behind her, as Phaere lay motionless for a long moment, eyes closed. At last, her eyes opened, staring first at the floor covered with her own blood, then at her body, its wounds healed but still sticky with half dried blood. Raising herself up slowly, supporting her weight with her left arm, she raised her head. A faint sneer of contempt curled her lips as her eyes fell on Rhenael, but it vanished, leaving her face an expressionless mask as her gaze turned to Ardulace.
A minute passed in silence, then another, as the bloodied figure on the floor regarded Ardulace with the wary gaze of a captured predator, one who knew itself to be at the mercy of its captor, yet remained ready and willing to tear the throat from that captor, should the opportunity arise. Ardulace nodded to herself. Unbroken, indeed. Such strength would be made to serve Despana; she had the means to ensure it.
"So you still resist," she said coldly.
"I will never submit to you," Phaere replied as she drew herself to her feet, her voice rough from the endless screams that had been her only vocalization for the last month. "I will never be what you desire me to be. I never desired it in the first place, but I was never given a choice." She raised her defiant eyes to fully meet Ardulace's gaze, something expressly forbidden unless a Matron ordered it.
Rhenael stepped forward, her hand raised for a blow. "You will show proper respect to the Matron, filth!"
Ardulace simply waited, knowing what was coming. Rhenael on her best day could never hope to match Phaere on her worst. The elder of her daughters let the younger come to her, and sidestepped the blow with feline grace, grabbing her arm and twisting it up behind her back, a sweep of her leg knocking Rhenael's feet from under her and forcing her to the ground. She landed heavily on her stomach, and Phaere was immediately astride her back, pinning her to the bloody stone, one hand maintaining its iron grip on the captured arm, while the other drew one of Rhenael's own blades, raising it high for what was obviously meant to be a decapitating blow.
A single word from Ardulace and a slight gesture with her right hand released a spell that sent Phaere flying across the room, crashing heavily against the rack upon which she had spent the better part of a day earlier in her confinement. As she slumped to the floor, Rhenael rolled to her feet, retrieving the blade that Phaere had dropped and starting forward with murder in her eyes.
"Enough!" Ardulace's voice cracked across the room like a whip, and Rhenael immediately stopped. "Leave us, Rhenael. Now."
The warrior turned to Ardulace in astonishment. "But Matron," she began to protest, but the icy stare of her mother silenced her even before Ardulace spoke.
"You are quite plainly unsuitable as a bodyguard," she told her daughter coldly. "I suggest that you spend several days in the arenas, improving your skills."
Casting a final, venomous glare at Phaere, Rhenael sheathed her sword and stalked silently from the room. Ardulace ignored her departure, her eyes on Phaere as she pulled herself upright, using the rack to steady herself.
"So you are not here to kill me?" she asked, her voice low and steady. "Perhaps you would care to watch Kathindre at work? She is quite talented; the highest ranking of the Maidens of Pain. I suppose I should be honored to be considered worthy of her attentions." Her mouth quirked into a bitter smile as she spoke.
"Her skills are indeed well known," Ardulace replied, "but I did not come here to observe, but to offer you a final chance to willingly assume your position as my heir and chief lieutenant of Despana."
Phaere shook her head, her expression as unyielding as if it had been carved from obsidian. "My answer is the same as it was when you had me brought before you the first time." She had been detained trying to leave, and it had been then that Ardulace had realized that she had deeply underestimated her daughter's attachment to Solaufein. She had given the girl an ultimatum: sever all contact with the male, but to her astonishment, Phaere had not only refused, but renounced her birthright and position within Despana. The unexpected defiance had enraged Ardulace, but alarmed her as well. Solaufein's house was beneath Despana in the hierarchy, and his seduction could well have been conducted on the orders of his Matron, for the sole purpose of embarrassing Ardulace. She had considered having him killed, but realized that not only could such an act lead to open warfare with his house and its allies, it would also make him a martyr in Phaere's eyes, rendering her devotion to his memory all but unbreakable
She had instead sent Phaere into the Temple of Lolth and the ministrations of the Spider Queen's Handmaidens, certain that she would quickly abandon any foolish emotional ties once she was made to realize the inescapable consequences of such weakness.
But now the girl stood before her, after weeks of the harshest tortures the Maidens of Pain could devise, as proudly defiant as she had been the day she had entered the Temple, and although Ardulace was careful to keep her face expressionless, inwardly she was seething at the waste of such potential. If she had only realized earlier the degree of threat that that cursed male had posed, she could have arranged an 'accident' for him. Phaere might have grieved the loss of her 'love', the Matron thought, with a silent sneer at the term, but she would have recovered, come to realize how weak her love had made her, and once more become the pride of Despana, as cold-blooded, ruthless and ambitious as she had been before.
Now there was only one option left to her. Ardulace refused to become a laughingstock among the Great Houses, refused to lose any of the prestige that she had so painstakingly built over her century of rule. She had spent the past three days preparing the spell that would ensure that the rest of Ust Natha saw exactly what she desired it to see: a united and powerful House Despana, its Matron in full control with her eldest daughter and heir at her side.
"Did you really think that I would ever allow you to leave this place with that male?" she asked in a deadly quiet voice. That I would allow you to spit upon your birthright? By Lolth, girl, you could be the most powerful Matron that Ust Natha has ever seen…unite all the houses under your rule!"
Phaere cocked her head, considering the idea. "Would that not require that I kill you first?"
Ardulace snorted. "You would…eventually, just as I killed my own mother to gain my position." She smiled coldly. "But it will not be easy, I promise you. Rhenael has already discovered that."
"Rhenael is an incompetent fool," Phaere replied dismissively. "She has attempted three times to kill me. Once I kill you and become Matron, I become an even more desirable target, forced to remain ever vigilant for the dagger in my back, the poison in my cup. Why should I want that?"
"For the power that you gain!" Ardulace exclaimed, wondering if the torture had affected Phaere's mind after all, that she could not see such an obvious thing. "You kill any who threaten you, until none dare to challenge your might!"
Phaere shook her head slowly. "That is never something that I wanted, but I never believed that there was any other choice for me, save death. Solaufein has shown me a chance for something more." Her eyes closed, and the peaceful expression on her face revolted Ardulace.
"Showed you what? Love?" Ardulace replied, sneering openly now. "All love is foolish…an illusion designed to weaken the strong…and I am certain that his Matron has rewarded him well for engineering your downfall so skillfully."
Phaere's eyes opened, but instead of the doubt and anger she had hoped to provoke, she saw only calm resolve. "You will never convince me of that," she said calmly. "Return me to the Maidens for more torture or kill me outright; I love Solaufein, and you can never take that from me."
So be it. "Perhaps not," Ardulace replied, releasing a spell that held Phaere immobile and silent. The next spell to be cast was complex, and Phaere was more than capable of killing her while it was being cast. She could have left her in chains, but she wanted her power over her daughter to be made plain. "But I can take his love from you, make you watch as love turns to hate; perhaps then you will realize your mistake and come to your senses, but regardless, you will return to your position as the heir to Despana…and you will behave exactly as I order you."
She began to chant, her hands weaving complex patterns in the air. Phaere's eyes widened in recognition, and she began to struggle against the spell that restrained her, mouthing words that could have been curses or pleas, but the spell held firm, and she could only watch helplessly as the geas was cast upon her.