The room had been repurposed for receiving guests, many of the other rooms bedecked to accommodate them in haste, but with enough care to not be immediately obvious. Amalette had been good enough to give Aestith a precise number to work with, but he still prepared for more than given. It was impossible to trust that she had not lied just to see how he would handle himself, or to see if he would be thrown off by under preparing for a larger number.
The food had all been procured, carefully handpicked meals that would be considered delicacies at home. Aestith had buzzed around the kitchen and had a hand in much of it himself, though he would never admit that to any of the guests. The wines were a mixture of lichen wine and grape wine. He had teas and desserts that would still be appealing to a palate unaccustomed to a lot of sugar, ale for entourage.
His dress had been picked up the day before and hung in a twill garment bag. He hadn't even had time to try it on beyond the final fitting. The diamonds had only been finished that morning. The thought of the wedding made him anxious. The thought of Ondalia made him anxious for other reasons.
After only the briefest of debates, Bingath was sent as a sort of doorman. Sailanshin, still as a kamadan, went with him to observe. Aestith would have preferred Eiranish, who at least appeared less of noble birth, but Bingath was more formal and controlled. He also looked lovely in the webbed chain and silk, made to imply servitude. People tended to overlook the help.
Kai at first complained about having to hide in the kitchens, but Aestith reminded him of what he had done to Sailanshin and he sulked on a stool in the corner. Ryze gave him a yellow pear. It almost made Aestith laugh; Xaiviryn had done the same thing to Aestith when he had screamed after Eilora asked him if he had killed a child.
Spells had healed the bruising and scratches, but it didn't make the longing fade. There was so much he would miss if he left, and so much he had to give up if he stayed.
Aestith had advance warning of their imminent arrival. It was important that he project that he was poised and composed, even if he did not feel that way. He went to the high priestess's private quarters, a room that could have been his, in due time. The temple was not particularly made for receiving guests. It had what would be expected in a drow temple-a dungeon, a torture chamber, a sacrificial chamber, a place of worship and an arena, living quarters, and a few other basic and necessary rooms. There were rooms large enough for a wedding feast, so that was what they would be used for. There were no silly decorations, and flowers would have been unsightly in such a place.
The door opened to a parlor. Aestith had barely had time to even look at it and had left the decoration to Xaiviryn's troupe. They hadn't done a terrible job and it was almost relieving. There was enough seating for four, and a tray with wine and fruit set out. Aestith did a quick walk-through of the rooms, then placed himself on a padded chair. He fidgeted, couldn't seem to decide on a position. He wasn't good at this. Any time he had met Xaiviryn, the other had always made it look effortless. Even Tirowan could position herself in such a way that put her to her best advantage. Aestith couldn't decide on a posture, wondered if he had selected the wrong chair so moved to a different one, where he could see the door and his back was to the bedchamber. Did that make him look afraid? It was a defensive posture. Perhaps he should move to the chaise lounge, where he might survey the room without it looking as though he were expecting a fight.
The sound of several feet walking down stone echoed down the hallway. He was out of time. He should have picked up a book, poured a glass of wine, something. He looked like he had been sitting there waiting for them. He inspected the paint on his nails, opting to make it look as if he had just now sat down. Which he had. Damn it!
The door opened inward and Bingath swept behind it. He kept his head obediently downwards, studying his own feet. He was as meek as Aestith had ever seen him, perhaps all too clearly remembering how his life had used to be. And perhaps, by his body language if not his posture, he still missed it, the way Aestith missed it. Aestith reminded himself to treat Bingath, and the other males, as any other piece of furniture. Sailanshin strode in after him and wandered over to Aestith. The kamadan plopped down beside him, looking as comfortable on the floor as only a cat could be.
Jaalie strode into the room. She was dressed for travel in leathers perfectly tailored to her shape. Her red spinel hair was tied in a simple braid down her back for traveling. Her lips cracked into a grin when she saw Aestith. "That's more what Descaronan described of you," she said.
Aestith looked up from inspecting his nails. "Is that so?" He smiled, amused. "She spoke of me then?"
Amalette swept in after her in a dress meant for dancing and movement. She cast a quick glance about the room before she moved into the plush, carved chair. As to be expected, she had not changed, save the invisible mantel of being matron of their family. Her movements were always graceful, her voice like notes of music.
"Well, we had to ask how the Trial went. You certainly didn't seem inclined to give many details." Jaalie plopped into the chair opposite of him, where it was easiest for her to grab him should it be necessary, but where her bow would be the most useless.
"It's difficult to tell a story over Sending," he admitted.
Two quaggoths moved to stand on either side of the door in the hallway. Ondalia arrived only after the room had been secured. She seated herself upon the chaise lounge as though she had somehow known it was there beforehand. She reclined as if she were posing for a painting, but no mere paint could ever hope to render her perfect beauty. No sculptor could ever capture the painful perfection of her face. Even a magically created duplicate of herself could not compare. She was more beautiful than he remembered.
Jaalie looked at Sailanshin. "I like the cat. Kamadan. How'd you tame it?"
Sailanshin snorted. Aestith shrugged one shoulder. "I didn't."
Amalette propped an elbow upwards. "You've done well for yourself."
Aestith couldn't tell if it were a barbed comment. "I've made do with what I have."
"Yes, but it's time you came home," she continued. Her eyes slid toward Ondalia.
Aestith swallowed his nervousness and glanced at Jaalie, who was already helping herself to the offered wine and fruits. "How was your journey here?" He couldn't bear to look at Ondalia. Seeing her made him want to slide down to his knees and pray for her to only notice him. The thought that she would wed him made his blood quicken. She wanted him to sire a child. The kamadan casually dropped a heavy paw down on Aestith's foot. He shifted.
"Droll," Jaalie answered, plucking a green grape from a vine.
Ondalia's eyes, a pale blue flecked with violet, rolled over him. Aestith felt his insides twist with a longing he had not felt so strongly since the first time he had seen her. How could someone like her even be interested in him? He felt ugly in the same room as her. No amount of hair styling, paints, creams, or clothing could even make him a measure of her beauty. He felt like he should slink away, but then he couldn't bask in her perfection. A common saying, in Enainsi, was that if you could never ascend to a yochlol, you could still serve the Queen's priestesses. He'd never felt that saying apply to him so strongly.
She smiled, as if she enjoyed the effect she so clearly had on him. When she spoke, her voice came out like a snake over silk. "Amalette, Jaalie. I'd like to speak with my future husband alone."
Amalette glanced at Jaalie. "It's been a long journey, and I would not lament a rest."
Jaalie's eyes flicked toward Aestith. "I think I should very much like to see this surface temple. I will see you in due time." She selected an orange from the bowl. The pair left the room.
Ondalia tilted her head. "You look to be much improved since last I saw you."
"I'm glad you approve, priestess."
Her smile turned amused. "Come now, we are both priestesses, and soon to be wed. Surely you care little for this pretense of formality?"
Aestith put the flint glass cup to his lips and sipped. "If it is not to your taste, might I suggest something less formal?" He set the glass down. "If it is not too forward, that is."
"You've much to learn," she said.
Aestith went to her and knelt in front of her. "Then teach me."
Ondalia touched two fingertips under his chin. To what did she measure him against? What did she see? And was he worthy? Her fingers traced his jaw, and he was reminded of the way Matron Ter'resa had caressed the male she was punishing. Ondalia said, "I believe you can be taught."
Aestith's heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear his own reply. "May I suggest we begin?" He pulled back and rose. He went to the door and lingered, watching with an open longing as she collected herself from the lounge. She walked the path he took, but in no way did she follow. She exuded an inner confidence that matched her beauty and lent her the surety of her step. Her heels, made of hammered steel, clicked against the stone floor.
The high priestess's quarters had been furnished in haste but with great care, sparing no expense, especially considering it was to be a marital bed. The altar, a smaller thing than the great altar in the sacrificial chamber and made mostly for daily prayer, subtly dominated the room. The area around it was clear. The bed, large enough to easily accommodate three, had been pushed against one of the hexagonal walls, opposite the door.
The sheets were a smooth spidersilk, and though the pattern could not be distinguished in infrared, it was an image of a huntsman spider in stunning detail. A silk rug covered much of the stone floor in a subtle geometric pattern. The door to the closet was cleverly hidden on one wall. The opposite wall to it had a similarly hidden door that would open to a washroom.
Spiders had already taken up residence in the many corners.
Ondalia surveyed it with a cursory glance, seemed to decide that it would do. She folded herself into the single cushioned chair in the room. "Remove your clothing." She surveyed his actions as if she were watching him from a throne.
He was systematic. It wasn't the way he undressed before sliding into bed with Arcedi. It wasn't the passionate way that Xaiviryn would undress him. It was like uncaging an animal before it was slaughtered. He placed his jewelry on a small table and removed his boots. His stockings came after and he slipped off the dress. He let it pool on the floor. He hesitated at his leggings, but she flicked her wrist in a gesture meant for him to continue. A smirk adorned her lips as he slowly revealed his deformities to her. Under her judgmental gaze, he was naked and exposed in a way he had never quite felt before. He felt deformed. He should never have been permitted to live.
Ondalia's lips curled in an expected disgust at him. She said, "You are indeed an abomination and a stain upon our race. How indeed did you go overlooked so long?"
His eyes downcast, as if he were only male, he touched his chest. "I was able to hide this, as it did not show until puberty." He hesitated. "The more feminine parts, here…" He gestured. "Were covered with a layer of skin."
"How did you discover that?" she sneered.
His face flushed and his eyes flicked upwards. Lolth found me worthy. His shoulders hunched. "I imagine the way any boy discovers themselves."
She laughed. "Come. Perhaps, with your parts, you know how to service a woman." She propped her feet upon the footrest. "Disrobe me."
Aestith went to her and knelt, carefully unlacing her shoes. It was almost medical. He did not touch or caress as he removed each garment. If she desired such things, she would instruct him. With every item unclothed, he went to the closet and hung it. He touched her bare skin as little as possible, though ever inch of freshly exposed skin made him shiver with longing. His cock dripped. He restrained his base urges, but could not wrench his eyes from every luxurious inch of her beautiful legs. Her hips and waist had a curve that made him weak, and he longed to taste her cunt. Her full breasts were symmetrical and completely unblemished. She was everything that a drow strove to be-beautiful and perfect, powerful, intelligent; she had maneuvered and schemed her way into her position and it was a thing to be admired. He could do nothing save admire her, stunned by the sight of her.
When she reclined naked in the chair and he stepped back into the room, she said, "Now crawl back to me."
He had thought she had meant it in a colloquial sense, so he started to slink back to her. She cleared her throat. "Boy. I told you to crawl."
The stone hurt his knees, but if he tried to stand, she threatened punishment. He wasn't sure which he wanted more.
She lifted herself from the chair and passed him. She touched the back of his exposed neck in a way that felt like ownership. She beckoned him after her. She had not instructed him to stand, so he crawled. She laid on the bed, her legs dangling over the side. Her thighs spread. He would not have been permitted to look at her face, and he wouldn't have wanted to anyway. "Do you know how to use your mouth?"
He admitted, "Mostly with men, priestess."
She scoffed. "You are male, aren't you?" She leaned toward him and slapped him across his face. He flinched. "No priestess, no drow woman, would do such a thing, you idiot boy."
He could barely control his breathing. "Then teach me."
Her instructions were aided with a painful touch of magic or a slap, until she decided that he needed a different aid, not because she wasn't wet, but because she was disgusted by him and wanted it made clear.
She told him to fetch her a whip. He brought her his, held between his teeth as he crawled his way back to her. It was a ten foot bull whip, and every kiss of it hurt as it rained on his back. He hunched against it, a hand between his legs. She snatched his tousled hair and yanked his head back until it hurt. "You didn't have my permission to do that." Her lips curled in a sneer. "From now on, you aren't to do that, in my presence or out of it, without my permission."
"Yes, priestess," he gasped. She dropped his head and he fell, wanted desperately to touch her, or himself. She lay the whip across his back, watched the way he twisted, wanted her.
Ondalia issued demands, giving instructions like a priestess to a slave and he was quick to carry out her orders, or slow as she told him to be. She made it clear to him that there was little that was beneath him, as vile and monstrous as he was, so no task was too degrading.
When she was finished with him and he knelt on the floor as she lounged on the bed, she said, "You are indeed disgusting. Absolutely vile, and if your sisters did not have a way of correcting you, you would be quite worthy of the death you deserve for the blemish you make upon the drow."
Aestith bowed his head. He swallowed. Ondalia was so beautiful. Her voice made him tremble. He could not reply; she did not tell him to.
She continued, "Despite your obvious flaws, your performance has been acceptable. I'll permit you to finish. Come, your task is to sire a child."
He climbed back into the bed between her legs. He did not look at her, or touch her beyond what she told him to. He came when instructed, and immediately moved from her, panting, back to the floor.
Ondalia's lips pursed. She had carefully kept herself from sweating, and her hair was near to perfect. Aestith's had been tossed and pulled from the braids. The paint and powders had ran from his skin as he sweat with effort. She said, "After our daughter is born, Amalette has taken the pains to procure a device to correct you. There is a chance it will make you entirely male, but we believe we can negate it. When you have been corrected, we will return to Enainsi."
He nodded once. "Yes, priestess." Sweat dripped onto the floor. "Thank you." His tongue dampened his cracked lips. He swallowed spit to ease his hoarse throat. Bruises throbbed and cuts oozed blood. Welts stung. Blood caked and dried on his back. He imagined that this would be what his entire marriage to her would be like.
#
Gold exchanged hands. Promises were made and broken. Secrets were kept.
A poisoned blade sunk between two ribs. A hand stifled a cry, and then the body went limp.
An arrow found a throat. A knife plunged into a back. Each were killed and replaced. One entered, one returned with the same face.
A house fell, one by one, until only the priestess remained.
"Praise Lolth," a voice whispered.