Warning: this chapter contains torture and implied sexual assault.

Note: I want to mention that I am one chapter away from catching up to my other two Drizzt crossover fics. Once I do catch up, I will begin alternating between them.

Drizzt groaned as he hung from the iron shackles. He was tired of screaming; he didn't think he could scream anymore. His throat was sore, both from screaming and from Vendes shoving acid and other burning substances down his throat. He was sure he had coughed up his entire respiratory system and his desperate gasps of air only came up as gurgles as he choked on his own blood.

But of course, Vendes wouldn't allow him to die. She would bring him to the brink of death repeatedly and then she would force healing potions down his throat, healing him to full health. She called him her inspiration, her work of art and she enjoyed healing him so she could have a 'fresh canvas' the next time. In those terrible moments, Drizzt had never wished for death more. Every time he closed his eyes, he wished he could just give in to the promise of death and a release from the torment.

But the worst pain was seeing the elf suffer alongside him. Vendes took turns between them, she would often leave Drizzt hanging on the wall while she tortured the elf and the ranger was forced to hear the pitiful screams and the whimpers and moans, and of course, there was always Vendes's ramblings and delighted laughter.

At night, the two would hang in the dungeon alone in the dark. It was during those hours of reprieve from their torment that the two of them could seek comfort from one another. They hung from opposite walls and every night, Drizzt spoke, trying to comfort and reassure the elf and always apologizing for all the evil deeds of his own people. All he could think about was how he must be to blame for all of this. It was all his fault that they were both in this predicament. He was the renegade, the traitor and they were unleashing their wrath upon him and anyone associated with him, and the idea that other people would suffer for his deeds was perhaps the worst torment of all.

Drizzt wanted to take the past 30 years back. If he had known that this day would come, he never would have left home. He would have accepted his fate as Malice's puppet and allowed the darkness of Menzoberranzan to claim him, then at least, no matter what happened to him, Breunor, Catti-Brie, Regis, and Wulfgar, poor lost Wulfgar, would all be alive and well.

Drizzt listened to Legolas, the elf every night. He told the ranger his unfortunate story during those silent hours. He had come to Faerun from a faraway land to the east, looking for his father.

"I found a few leads," Legolas had explained as Drizzt's heat seeing eyes noted the angry hot patches all over his skin from the countless cuts, bruises, burns, and blisters. "My sources told me that my father was being held in a stronghold of dark elves, so I found my way here and was caught by whatever soldiers brought me here."

Drizzt could only offer his sympathies, as hollow as they sounded in his mouth. He had no way of knowing if Legolas's father was in Menzoberranzan, or if he was even alive. If he was caught by House Baenres, he certainly would have been here in the dungeon, suffering alongside them. But another house could have caught him. And it was that sorrow that Drizzt had trouble moving past. If he thought Zaknafein was alive and being held captive somewhere, he would search to the ends of the earth to find him.

But right now, there was nothing they could do for their absent fathers. In these terrible moments, they were both forced to consider their own suffering. Drizzt wasn't even sure how long they had been hanging in that dungeon. He had lost all concept of time. He only counted the days by how often Vendes left them alone in the dark. And by the hour that she returned.

And every time she returned, she seemed to have a new plan for their torture that day. She seemed to have an endless supply of devices and magical implements. And every day, Drizzt was surprised by new pains he never knew he could experience. He always thought he was prepared, after all he was no stranger to pain. He always thought he could close his thoughts to the pain, could push it out of his mind, could strengthen himself towards it. But Vendes knew how to burn and rake, sting and crush, probe and pull at every vulnerable part of Drizzt's body and Legolas's body, exploiting every vulnerability and sensitivity she could find.

Drizzt especially hated her terrible six snake whip the most. After all, he remembered those whips from his childhood. His oldest sister, Briza was particularly fond of hers. Every time one of those vipers bit into his skin, he was bombarded by not only physical pain, but also memories of trauma. Of Briza whipping him over and over as he huddled in a corner as a child.

And worse yet, not only was Vendes the most sadistic priestess that Drizzt had ever encountered- and sadism was surely in abundance in this city- she was also incredibly masochistic. It seemed that the more pain she caused, the more it seemed to excite her. And her defenseless captives were both forced to satisfy her desires.

Drizzt opened his eyes one morning and shifted in his chains. His arms ached from the days of holding them stretched out and he wondered if he would ever be able to move them again. But he braced himself as Vendes stepped through the door, her usual face grinning as she approached her drow toy. She leaned forward to stroke a finger against his cheek, eying him suggestively.

"I have a special surprise for you today, Drizzt Do'Urden," she purred as Legolas lifted his head from the opposite wall and watched with alarm. Drizzt swallowed nervously as he caught the glimmer in her eyes. He could always tell by the way she slunk into the dungeon whether or not their sessions for that day would be purely physical and mental or if they would include her masochistic touch as well.

"Vendes," came a voice behind her as Drizzt braced himself for what he thought was to come. The priestess only grinned and stepped back and Drizzt was surprised by the sudden appearance of Matron Baenres.

"Oh too bad, Drizzt Do'Urden," Vendes hissed as the most powerful drow in Menzoberranzan came to stand before him.

"I have wanted to meet you, Drizzt Do'Urden," the matron spoke as she looked the drow over, her withered skin hanging from her face. She grabbed his chin and turned his face from side to side as if inspecting a possible purchase. "The traitor. The renegade. The one who has forsaken his own people and the spider queen herself. To think that after all these decades we have finally come to this meeting. And to think you have returned to us of your own accord!"

"I have nothing to say to you," Drizzt spat defiantly, his eyes flared with anger as he squirmed. "And may Lolth be cursed."

"Silence, insolence!" her hand lashed out across his cheek over and over before she composed herself. Drizzt felt the warmth of blood trickle down his face. "You will go to the spider queen soon enough and she will ensure that your punishment lasts for all eternity."

Drizzt said nothing but as the matron stepped back, he caught a glimpse of what was lurking in her shadow and his breath froze in his throat with fear. A mind flayer.

"We have some matters to discuss with you," the withered one explained. "About Mithral Hall and its vulnerabilities. After all that's why you are here."

Drizzt blinked in confusion as the mind flayer approached. He thought that the attack on Mithral Hall had been directed at him. After all, his own sister, Vierna had led the hunt. But as realization dawned on him, he wanted to die right then.

"It was never about you, you fool," Matron Baenres explained as if she could read his mind. "Do you think Lolth cares about one traiterous drow? You are insignificant, Drizzt Do'Urden. But you will be our key to conquering the dwarves!"

"I will tell you nothing!" Drizzt shouted passionately as he struggled in his chains, silently cursing and berating himself for falling for this trick. He had returned to Menzoberranzan to spare his friends, but the conquest would have happened with or without him!

"We don't need you to speak a word," Matron Baenres assured him. She stepped back then and let the mind flayer approach. Its large black pupiless eyes stared at Drizzt as its tentacles hung from its face.

"Stop," he heard Legolas shout, he could hear the chains and then heard the elf scream as Vendes beat him.

Drizzt tried to move back, tried to deny that this was happening, but as the thick gray tentacles pressed against his head, he frantically tried to block his mind from the assault. And then he let out a blood curdling scream of pure excruciating agony as the waves of mental energy racked through his head.

Memories and thoughts flashed through the drow's mind uncontrollably. It was if the mind flayer was casually sifting through every thought, every memory, every emotion that Drizzt had ever experienced. It's probing was purposeful.

Drizzt fought against the mind flayer, he used all his mental fortitude to resist these memories, and the result was a mental tug of war with his own mind at the center. The headaches were agonizing, and the drow was sure his skull would split in half every single time.

Drizzt wanted to die.