The man carrying Jian- her owner, she realizes dismally- stays silent for the rest of their journey. Once they're away from the crowd, people seem to pay them little attention. Small mercies. Her side throbs as her acid burns rub against the ridges and curves of his armor.
Before long, he steps through a small arch and she can instantly feel a slight change in the atmosphere. The air is warmer and the wind stronger and coming from a different direction. They stand on a small landing platform, a vehicle of similar kind to those she saw on her arrival in Commorragh parked nearby. She notices that it's painted in the same bone white and muted green color scheme as the man's armor.
A kabalite warrior in matching livery approaches them, bowing as he does. "Greetings, my lord. Would you like me to fly you to your quarters, or-"
"Yes," the man cuts him off. The archon, she realizes. The thought fills her with a renewed sense of dread. Only the powerful and ruthless rise to lead their own kabal, she knows this. And to be his trophy, his plaything-
She begins to shake again.
This trip is longer, despite the increased speed of their movement. Whatever subspace of the dark city they've entered must be quite large. Still, the archon says nothing, and still Jian remains motionless in his arms.
When they finally touch down, he exits the flyer without a word to the pilot and carries her indoors. The building is an empty, nearly silent place, all soaring ceilings with curved beams and pale grey walls. The few drukhari who move around the space are nearly all women, most wearing long braids and elaborate robes. They, too, pay him deference.
At the top of a long spiral staircase, he enters a room. Jian hears the door slide shut and lock behind them. A moment later, the archon lets out a long sigh and sets her down. The movement catches her off-guard and she stumbles, throwing out a hand for support and landing on his arm.
He waits for her to steady herself before stepping away, tossing her leash over the back of a nearby chair and heading towards a doorway at the far end of the room. A raised hand signals for her to remain where she is, but Jian has no intention of moving. She's not even sure whether she can stand much longer. She looks around.
The room appears to be the living area of a bedroom suite, more richly decorated than anything she's ever seen before. Again, her heart sinks. If he's brought her to his bedroom, that can mean only one thing. She wraps her arms around herself, wishing desperately for something more to cover her than the single scrap of lace and silk. Her entire skin crawls and something clenches at her throat.
A moment later, the archon reappears. His armor is gone, replaced with a heavy, embroidered robe left open over a simple shirt and pants. His feet, Jian notices, are bare, and he carries something she can't quite make out.
He approaches her and she tries not to back away. She can't breathe. Just let it happen, there's nothing you can do.
Something soft wraps around her. A short, thin robe in rich emerald green. "Here you are," he says, guiding her arms into the sleeves and tying the belt around her waist. The smooth satin feels wrong against her damaged skin. Marks are already appearing where the sweat and grime that cake her have started to contaminate the fabric.
He steps away again to take a seat at a table nearby. With a start, she realizes that it's loaded with food: fruit and bread and honey and cream. A light dinner for two. She didn't even notice it earlier.
"Come, you must be hungry." The archon pours himself a glass of wine. Jian looks down at herself, at the robe and her bare legs below it. Her leash drags on the ground.
She looks up again. A second chair sits on the other side of the small table, but the archon hasn't pulled his chair in at all. He remains facing her. Watching her. The expectation is clear.
For the first time in weeks- or has it been months? - she has a choice. Take a seat on the other chair… or on him… The thought overwhelms her. She tries and fails to steady her breathing and lurches forward.
The archon reaches out to help guide her into his lap as she approaches. It wasn't a choice. She's on autopilot, the thought of trying to resist too much to contemplate. For a moment, her attention is taken up by settling into a balanced position, and then she's there and free to look at the food.
Food. How long has it been since she's had anything to eat at all? Her hand reaches out involuntarily and she pauses, realizing she was never given permission to take anything. But only for an instant. The lure of having something to fill her empty stomach after so long is too strong. She picks up a piece of fruit and raises it to her mouth.
Something touches her head and she flinches. A hand stroking slowly, almost gently. "That's a good girl." The archon's voice is low in her ear.
She takes a bite. Color explodes in her mouth and she gasps as the juice washes over her cracked lips and dry mouth. A sting that's somehow the sweetest thing she's ever felt. She chews quickly, biting her tongue in her haste to eat until the entire thing is gone and reaches for a piece of bread. The archon still caresses her hair.
A ghost of a thought darts across her mind. The survival training that all craftworld children receive, repeated and expanded upon during her time with the Banshees. The worst you can do after not eating for a long time is to gorge yourself. She tries to take smaller bites, to chew slowly and savor each piece and watch for signs that she's being poisoned or drugged. That's probably his plan, to dose her with chemicals that will cloud her mind and fill her body with pain.
But no signs of it appear. She finishes the bread and picks up another slice, taking the time to drizzle this one with honey.
The archon shifts his position slightly. "My name is Lord Valthiel Aire, and I am the archon of the Kabal of the Ashen Rose." His voice is still soft, and, she realizes, accented differently than the other drukhari she's met. She turns to look up at him, bread still in her hand, and nods. She understands.
He sighs. "Which is your cue to introduce yourself as well, my dear. Who are you? What's your name?"
Introduce herself? To him? A sudden, violent disgust seizes her, the revulsion and fear she's felt ever since the first hand claimed her as a thing becoming an iron-clad line. She swallows. When she manages to get words out, she barely recognizes her own voice. It's the first time she's spoken since her mother died. "I don't want to tell you." She readies herself for a blow.
It never comes. The archon tilts his head to the side. "Why not?"
She takes a deep breath. "Because I do not want to hear the name used by my mother and my lover polluted by your lips. Give me whatever name you like and I will answer to it. But let my old life die with my sisters and- " Another choke of emotion seizes her and she finds herself unable to keep speaking. It's probably for the best. Every bit of herself that she lets slip into this place is another way he'll make her suffer later. Best to forget it and accept her new path, however short it may be.
"I see. You mean I will pollute your name by saying it? That I am unworthy of it?"
Looking down, Jian tries to figure out what to say that won't trigger his wrath. "You- you will pollute the memories of my old life. They're the only thing I have now. My life belongs to you from this point forward. Please, do not take my past as well."
The archon begins to stroke her thigh. Pinpricks race across her skin and she holds still, waiting. "Is that a request? Or a demand?" Still, he speaks calmly, but Jian detects a dangerous undertone.
"I am not in a position to make demands. But I will not give it to you willingly."
Another silence stretches out as her terror grows.
His arm moves up and wraps around her waist, pulling her against his chest. "Very well. I will honor your wish." Jian can feel him playing idly with the ties of her robe. "How about Vixen? Does that name suit you?"
"Alright." It doesn't matter, really. The defiance has left her and it once again feels as though even the thought of defying him is too much. He could have picked something worse. "Thank you… my lord." It seems as though this is the proper way to address him. If he doesn't like it, she'll find out.
It seems acceptable, however, as he smiles and reaches out to place a delicate glass goblet of clear liquid in her hands. "You are welcome, Vixen. Now, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"
She raises the glass and takes a sip. Wine. Her filthy hands leave smudges of blood on the glass where the cage tore at them. "I- I was a warrior. Of the Howling Banshees aspect." Not that it had mattered in the end. "I was captured while attempting to evacuate the crew of the naval vessel- "
The archon cuts her off with a gesture. "That is bound to be a sad and tragic tale, though. Tell me about something happier. What was your life like on the craftworld where you grew up?"
This is worse. Tears spring to Jian's eyes and she pushes them back down fiercely. She will not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain. "I am from the craftworld Yme-loc. And I followed the path of the warrior. Please, my lord. Do not ruin my memories of better times by forcing me to bring them here." Her soul aches with the realization that this, too, is completely dependent on her master's whim.
"Very well. What about hobbies? What do you like to do besides fighting?"
She looks up. "Why do you care?" Perhaps it might be worse to know, but she can't help but ask. "What do you plan to do with me?"
Sighing, the archon readjusts his grip around her. "I simply want to see if I can facilitate some of said interests. It might make your stay here more pleasant." His hand resumes its slow traverse up and down her naked thigh.
"I like to sing. And to play chess." She can't find it in herself to fight him anymore. He will take what he wants from her mind just as he will take it from her body. It will be best to get it over with.
He smiles. "I'll have to have you sing for me one day soon. But I'm sure you are too tired for that tonight, yes?"
Before she has a chance to respond, he kisses her. His lips are cold and send a wave of the same icy crawling feeling washing over her. She feels herself tense, her body trying to shrink itself to nothing to escape from his touch, but she is as trapped here as she was on the ship.
A moment later, he pulls away. His face is still very close to hers and his breath is hot on her forehead.
She looks up. For the first time that night, she forces herself to meet his gaze. Golden eyes, more concerned than predatory. She realizes that he's waiting for her to speak. Does he want her to fight back? The other archon had promised him something of the sort. "I cannot stop you from taking what you want, Lord."
It seems to be the only invitation he needs. He kisses her again. Hands slide along her waist, up to caress her breasts and around, pulling her closer. The flimsy robe begins to slide off her shoulders and the archon's breathing is loud in her ears. She closes her eyes. Waves of sickness and horror wash over her, and when they break, they leave room for a curious excitement as she can't help but respond physically to a man who seems to know exactly which parts of her body to explore.
And then the kiss ends abruptly. She still wears the thin, lacy panties and the robe is still half-wrapped around her. The archon reaches up to brush a ratted strand of hair away from her face and smiles again. "It's been a long day, and you have more than earned your rest. We can continue later. Do you want me to call someone to show you to your room, or would you prefer to finish your dinner first?"
Jian stares, shocked. "I would like to go to my room now, yes." Her room? This, too, is an unknown, but even chains and cold stone would mean getting away from him for a bit. It means a brief reprieve before the agony starts.
Lord Aire taps a bracelet on his wrist. A moment later, the door opens and a drukhari woman steps through. Tall and slim, dressed in black and grey robes similar to the other women she's seen here, she wears her brilliant blue-green hair in the same long braid as well. "You called, Valthiel?"
"Yes. This is Vixen, and she is ready to be shown to her room." He begins to maneuver Jian off his lap. Her legs buckle and he helps her regain her footing before he speaks again. "Vixen, this is Lynx, another one of my… subordinates. You have no need to be afraid of her, she is here to help you."
Jian eyes the other girl nervously, but nods in acceptance and begins to walk shakily towards her before stopping, confused. She should say something before she leaves. Turning to face him once again, she bows, a formal, businesslike gesture that she's seen used before and after meetings on Yme-loc. "Thank you for your kindness, my lord." The leash drags on the floor as she bends.
Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, to say. She doesn't know anymore. She doesn't know if anyone cares.
The archon says nothing, watching as Lynx picks up the leash and leads her out of the room. They walk a way down the hallway and begin to descend a staircase before her guide speaks. "You stink and your makeup is atrocious."
Her face heats up in shame as mocking laughter and her mother's screams echo in her mind. "I didn't do it myself."
"Well, we'll have to fix it." The woman- Lynx, she supposes- stops in front of a door, unlocking it before leading Jian in. Inside is dimly lit and surprisingly large, but Jian catches a glimpse of a bed and a massive, heart-shaped bathtub. Lynx shuts the door behind her and unhooks the chain from Jian's collar. "There we go. Now, why don't you run a bath while I fetch some things. We'll need to work on that hair of yours."
A bath. For the first time in what must be weeks, genuine excitement spreads across her face and she runs toward the tub, stumbling on the way. Reaching it, she turns on the water and holds her hands under the stream. Her legs buckle and she leans against the rim for support. It almost doesn't feel real. A scent of flowers wafts up from the water and she stares mesmerized as pink and purple bubbles rise and pop. She can lose herself in their movements and not think about anything else…
Jian shakes herself from her reverie and turns the tap off before it can overflow. Lynx isn't back yet, but she can't bear to wait any longer.
The water stings in her cuts as she climbs in and she gasps with a pleasant shock of the heat. Dark clouds of filth float off her skin. Dried sweat and blood, Commorragh street grit, smoke, and grime all rub away, leaving pale skin below. Too pale.
Her mother's ashes.
She scrubs harder. Her skin remains nearly white. Oh, Isha, please say it's not permanent! She draws in a shuddering breath that does nothing; she's breathing faster and faster but she's still choking. It has to come off, it has to. Digging her nails into her flesh, she tears at it, trying to pull away the layers that have been stained to uncover her real skin. Please, it can't-
"Hey! What are you doing?" Lynx grabs at her arms.
In her weakened state, Jian can't hope to fight her off and she falls limp. "They won't come off," she sobs.
"What won't come off?"
"The ashes, they did something to them."
Lynx sighs. "Calm down. I said I would help you, did I not?" She begins to scrub her with a cloth. "See?" Jian watches her progress. With the addition of soap, the white is beginning to come off. Still, her own tawny skin seems to have lightened a shade or two. "What did I tell you?" Lynx looks annoyed.
Somehow, the question is enough to collapse the thin wall of numbness she has left holding her together. The world crumples into a blurred mess as she begins to cry.
Arms wrap around her and pull her to the edge of the tub. Jian can't help but hug back as Lynx presses her against her shoulder. Something, anything to hold on to in order to keep from flying to pieces.
How long she cries, she has no idea, but eventually she can breathe without it catching in her throat. The tears stopped long ago. "I should finish this," she murmurs, picking up the discarded cloth. "Let you do your other duties." If nothing else, the archon will likely want company in his bed tonight. Perhaps she should have stayed, to spare Lynx, but the thought is performative. Her turn will come soon enough in any case.
"I have nowhere else to be for the moment." Lynx begins to brush her hair, slowly and carefully untangling the matted knots that Jian has barely noticed until now.
"Thank you." She swallows. "Is he- is he very cruel? To you?"
"No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
She doesn't seem to be lying, but the answer does nothing to make Jian feel better. "I just want to know what to expect."
"Well, he is quite domineering, but gentle. I usually enjoy myself when we sleep together."
"That's something, at least." Jian looks down at the water, which is turning an ugly grey-brown color with dirt. "Did he buy you from the raiders too?"
"No." She hesitates. "I was, erm, already associated with the Ashen Rose when he took over. Not working directly for them, but for another kabal and its archon via a contract. I… did not enjoy the assignment at all, and our lord was kind enough to purchase said contract, provided I work for him instead."
"I see. I'm glad you are happier here."
"I'm sure you will be too. You just need to give it time."
"Maybe… I just… I want to go home."
"Hey," Lynx's voice turns harsher and she tugs at Jian's hair. "You could try to be a bit more appreciative. Unless you want him to sell you to someone else. This is Commorragh, after all."
She doesn't respond. Perhaps Lynx is right. Perhaps she should be grateful for whatever spots of comfort remain in her life. "Okay. What else am I expected to do around here?"
"I'm not sure. You have been purchased as a concubine primarily, but the rest is between you and the lord. I use my spare time in the alchemy lab, developing some of the poisons and drugs for which we're famed."
"I see."
"So, I mean, it was lucky he saw you there in your cage, no? You could have met a far worse fate, bleeding out on the arena floor or sold to the covens. Almost like it was meant to be, right?" Lynx sets down the brush and holds out her hand to help Jian out of the bathtub.
"I'll try to see it that way." She accepts the hand and wraps herself in a towel. "Thank you for your help. I really mean that, and I'll tell him how nice you were."
"No trouble at all." The other woman offers her a nightgown, another piece of thin, shiny silk. "Now let's get you to bed."
Jian allows herself to be led to the bed and tucked in like a small child. Lynx departs, promising to return in the morning and leaving her in darkness.
For the first time in what seems like a lifetime, she is alone. The bed is soft, piled with pillows of all shapes and sizes and warm, fluffy blankets. Jian can't remember the last time she felt this comfortable, that she felt comfortable at all. With the cold finally seeped out of her limbs and the sharp pinch of hunger gone from her stomach, all her other aches and pains return, stinging cuts and deep bruises and a throb in her head that won't go away. Every movement is an acute reminder of the body that no longer belongs to her.
She reaches up to touch the collar around her neck. The archon's property. All this, the food, the bath, the soft bed, it's an indulgence from him. Something to make her more attractive when he holds her down and violates her, or to take away if she fails to satisfy him. And when she does fail, just as she has failed to follow Verynia's orders and to save her mother, he will take the only other thing she has to give him.
There are no tears left in her body, but still, she cries, her grief and fear erupting in muffled sobs until exhaustion overcomes her and she falls into the embrace of her nightmares.
When she wakes, she can't tell how much time has passed. The room looks no different, the same dim light and heavy shadows. She turns on a lamp and looks around. The bed in which she sits is on one end of the room, next to floor-length curtains that she assumes cover a window. A bookshelf next to a plush chair holds a few books, but stands mostly empty. Jian can see the bathtub she used last night and a vanity, as well as a pair of doors that most likely lead to a washroom and closet. It's certainly no prison cell. In fact, it looks rather comfortable
Her thoughts are interrupted by a sharp rap at the door, followed by Lynx entering the room. "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"
"I did." She lies. "The bed is very comfortable." That, at least, is true.
Lynx disappears through one of the doors and reemerges a moment later carrying what Jian quickly realizes is clothing. "Now let's get you dressed."
Climbing reluctantly from the warmth of the blankets, Jian allows Lynx to help her into the outfit she's picked. She soon realizes that the term might be a bit generous for the bits of metal and leather connected by straps. She's not even sure if she could have figured out how to put it on without assistance.
Apparently satisfied, Lynx steers her towards the mirror. "It looks absolutely amazing on you." She smiles. "I knew it would."
Sure enough, the dress- if it can be called that- leaves little to the imagination. Her stomach, back, and most of her chest and thighs are exposed and the sheer gloves and stockings tease at the shape of her arms and legs. It seems to Jian that the entire design is meant to draw attention to the collar around her neck, a slim silver band engraved with roses that might almost be mistaken for a necklace if it didn't have a loop at the front to connect a leash.
"It's pretty." Jian hates it. It reminds her of the cage and of the ship, of the fact that she exists for others' pleasure. But she's not Jian anymore. She's Vixen, the archon's concubine, and this is how Vixen dresses. She will get used to it. "Does he want to see me right away?"
"If you are ready. Do you think you are?"
She runs her fingers along the collar. "I don't think I'll be more ready by waiting longer."
So Lynx leads her back to the archon's quarters and guides her inside. At least there's no leash this time, but she almost wishes there were. It would remove the temptation to run that grows with every passing second. Not that she'd be able to get far. Her shoes have high spike heels that put horrible pressure on her cuts and it's all she can do not to stumble over every step.
The room looks much the same as it did last night, still lit softly, the table piled high with a fresh load of food. The archon is already seated, dressed in a white silk shirt and black leather pants. He looks up as she enters.
"Good morning, my lord." She bows her head and waits for a signal that more deference is required. Behind her, she can hear Lynx departing.
"Good morning, my sweet Vixen," he replies warmly. "Please, help yourself. I'm sure dinner last night was not enough to slake your hunger."
She takes a seat across from him and begins to serve herself a pile of fruit and small cuts of meat. A stolen glance at him reveals that he looks somewhat surprised. Perhaps he wanted her to sit on his lap again. Should she move? Or will that make things worse?
"So… how are you feeling, all things considered?"
"Much better than yesterday. Thank you for asking." She barely thinks about what she says. Her mind is on the food, on trying to hold back for a bit longer. It's difficult. Not only is the archon right about how starved she is, but even through her hunger, she can tell that everything at the table is of the absolute highest quality. The kind of food meant to be eaten for the sole pleasure of consuming it.
"I'm glad to hear it." He pours what looks like red wine from a carafe and takes a sip. "Does this mean you are ready to resume your duties today?"
Jian swallows. She can't bring herself to say 'yes'. But Lynx is right. If she puts him off, he'll toss her aside for someone else, or worse. "If- if that is what my lord wishes."
The archon nods slowly. "Well, you may consider yourself on the clock, then." Picking up his drink, he carries it over to the massive desk piled high with papers and busies himself with one of the stacks.
This is some kind of test, Jian realizes. He wants to see what she will do. She stands and watches him, thinking. She knows what he wants. What she needs to do. But to offer herself up like this…
She walks slowly to his side, wobbling a bit as her heels sink into the thick rug. "Can I be of assistance?" Her voice catches in her throat and comes out very quiet.
He looks up and eyes her for a moment while she waits, breathless. Then he smiles. "My back is somewhat stiff, so you could in fact give me a back rub if you would be so kind."
A back rub? She reaches out and hesitantly touches his shoulder. There's no reaction, so she moves forward, kneading into his shoulder muscles and running her hands in circles along his back. Unbidden, a memory forces its way into her brain. Reena, her soft hands on Jian's own back as she works out the knots from a hard day of sword training at the shrine. She swallows hard and reminds herself to concentrate on the moment.
The archon sighs and she can feel the tension fall away from his posture. "Mmm, that feels good." The scabs on her palms have cracked and her hands leave red smudges on the back of his shirt. "Now, all you have to do is take care of my erection and after that you can resume your breakfast."
So focused is she on the massage, that for a moment she doesn't realize what he's said. "Is that why you bought me?"
He shrugs. "I bought you because you looked cute. And because I thought you deserved a far better fate than being stuck in that cage, dancing for everyone's pleasure and amusement. I am still working on my long-term plans for you."
"I see." Lynx's advice returns to her again. "Thank you. I hope I will not give you cause to be disappointed in your purchase."
"Well, you are off to a promising start." He looks up, but she can't quite see his face from her angle. "As long as you don't forget your new assignment to prove to me exactly how talented your mouth is."
Jian swallows hard. There can be no more stalling. "You want me to pleasure you? With my mouth?"
"Unless you have a problem with that."
She shakes her head.
The archon pulls out his chair to give his slave space to kneel in front of him. As he does, it affords him a good look at her. Barely more than a child, with large green eyes made even more prominent by how pinched with hunger her face and body are. She won't look at him directly. The revealing outfit shows off a patchwork of whip welts, burns, and bruises in all stages of healing and the hand that reaches to undo his pants is marred with small cuts from the cage and wrists torn from struggling against her bonds.
He leans back in his chair and sips from a goblet of wine, outfit flawless except for the bloodstains left by the girl at his feet. His skin is soft and perfectly smooth and not a hair falls out of place as he reaches down to pat her on the head. "That's a good girl."
She says nothing and goes to work with grim determination.
I picture Jian as being about the eldar equivalent of late teens, probably 17-19. The Path of the Warrior was her first.
Lord Aire is in the equivalent of his mid-20s by drukhari standards, as is Lynx.