Disclaimer: So I own nothing... even less than usual, lol.

Beta: the wonderful, the amazing... VALAR MORGHULIS!!!!

Authors Note: So this is my break into another fandom.. I'm so nervous! But after months (weeks, maybe lol) of intense beta'ing sessions... here it is... my first Black Jewels ficcy!

Rating: K+

Title: In The Night

The night was still and calm as Daemon watched the sky, his golden eyes at peace as they mapped out the brilliance of the stars. A sharp, cold breeze hugged his body as he stood in the sheltering darkness under the branches of a spreading tree, and a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Above, leaves rustled softly in the wind, speaking to one another in a tongue as old as the Darkness, and Daemon let the gentle voices soothe away his ever-present anger.

Even as far as he had walked, the faint noise of the party that he had left still lingered in the air; but it was easy enough to ignore, here in the recesses of this ancient forest. The sighing of bat wings was lighter on his ears, the faint, far-off sound of a burbling creek a more pleasing melody than any a quartet could produce. In the broken silence of the night there were a thousand things to hear, to see, to feel.

Daemon knew he should return before he was missed, but he could not bring himself to leave his sanctuary. Was there one person in this realm who wouldn't constantly remind him of how often had he endured degradation and humiliation at the hands of his Mistresses and Queens these past centuries? How else but by fleeing human company could he act like he wasn't subjugated by the Ring that bound him?

Daemon let a faint sigh escape from him. No - he could not leave. The night was as alive as he was not, trapped as he was by Dorothea's machinations; but at least here, surrounded by trees that had stood since the dawn of time, he could pretend to be free.

The wind tugged playfully at his hair – though it was bound by Craft to stay presentable – and with that light touch, Daemon's anger fled again. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, slouching comfortably in the presence of such old, wise trees. There was an air of wisdom here that matched nothing he could ever remember - it was the one of the reasons Daemon chose to remain tethered to such a distant, meaningless court.

The other, of course, being the lack of attention paid to his presence. Never before had he been allowed to wander as freely as he was doing now. And it was uncharacteristic for Dorothea to let his leash fall slack so – she was fanatical about knowing his whereabouts as she was with nothing else. What, then, could have pushed him out of her mind? Was she plotting something? Trying to get rid of him as she set her plans into motion?

Daemon frowned as the thought crossed his mind; but how else could he explain her apparent inattention to him? But does she really think she can manipulate me? Daemon sneered, and his shoulders tightened at the thought of the conniving, controlling bitch.

A sharp bolt of pain surged through his groin, and Daemon groaned in agony as he gripped a nearby tree, his long, tinted nails digging into the bark. The waves of pain that coursed through his body almost brought him to his knees, but he withstood them. For uncountable, interminable minutes the pain flowed through him, bringing him to the limits of his endurance.

And then it stopped.

Daemon sucked in a breath as he straightened, dropping his hand from the tree. His anger crystallized as he brushed dirt off his palmand twitched his cuffs straight. He shoved his hands back in his pockets and turned towards the house, the light from the stars catching his eyes. If anyone had been present, the sleepy, glazed gold would have been warning enough of what was soon to come.

The frozen grass crunched under his feet as he began to make his way back to the party he had only just escaped from, and a small, lazy smile curved his lips.

Not even Dorothea was foolish enough to call him back with that much force. Distantly, he wondered how much an alliance with this bitch-Queen meant to the Hayllian Priestess – not that he cared in the slightest. With a thought he Called a plain box to him; leisurely he slipped the ring inside onto his finger, caressing it as he felt the roiling power contained in his Black Jewel.

By dawn he was riding the Winds back to Draega. Reluctant though he was to return to his prison, he knew that it was his only hope of foiling Dorothea's plan – whatever it might be. And despite the thought of the inevitable punishment waiting for him, Daemon felt himself smiling. He was in control once again.

Behind him the morning light crawled slowly over barren land where nothing – and no one – remained.

Well, here it is. And all thanks to Valar Morghulis for the beta- and the nagging and the whinging and the 'get a move on'ing lol.

Thanks

Netrixie