After what seems like a very long time, Jian pulls away. Her mouth is still filled with the thick, sticky remnants of the archon's semen, and she can feel some of it dribbling down her chin. It didn't taste as disgusting as she thought it would, but still her stomach seizes. She stares at the carpet, trying not to be sick.
He leans down and kisses her on the top of her head. "Good girl. Now please, go enjoy the rest of your breakfast. You have more than earned it." His voice is soft and gentle, as though he speaks to a lover.
Bile rises in her throat and she gags, hands flying to her mouth to keep from vomiting on his boots. Blinking back the tears that fill her eyes, she wipes the cum from her face and nods. "Thank you, my lord."
Somehow, she's at the table. Her thin, useless gloves are gone. She tries to remember standing and walking there from the desk, but the time is completely blank. Sitting robotically, she struggles to keep her face neutral and picks up the goblet that waits at her place. Wine. Like everything else here, the taste is exquisite and the alcohol numbs her mouth.
She drains the entire glass before starting her breakfast.
The food is still delicious as well, and she tries to focus on the flavor. That wasn't so bad, she tells herself. You could do it again. And again. And again. A soft yellow fruit sticks in her throat. She pours herself another glass of wine and begins to drink from it.
"You do realize you can tell me no, right?"
Jian looks up, uncomprehending.
"If there's something you don't want to do. I mean, I might force the issue, depending, but I do want to hear your thoughts and opinions."
She takes another swallow of wine and keeps staring. What is he saying?
The archon breaks his own gaze with a shrug. "Why would I give you the ability to speak if I didn't want you to make use of it?"
Why she answers she can't say. Perhaps the wine is emboldening her, or perhaps she just can't let the comment pass without some kind of response. "It's hard to be honest when my life depends on your happiness."
"Is that what you're worried about? That I'll sell you to someone else?"
"Yes. Or that I will no longer please you and you will use me for… other things."
"I see." He gazes at his hand for a moment, then looks back at her. "You have my word on my name and ancestors that I will not sell you or send you off to another kabal and that you will always have a home here. Does that make you feel more comfortable?"
"No." Even through the food, she can still taste him in her mouth.
"You know, I'm not surprised. My word likely means little to you, after all. So let's see how creative you are. What could I do that would make you feel at home here with me?"
She blinks. It feels like her eyelids are moving through honey and the edges of her vision keep turning grey. It takes her a moment to understand what he's said. "I thank you from the bottom of my soul for the mercies you have shown me and I pray that I will continue to satisfy your expectations. But I am your slave, lord. You cannot erase that with pretty words or gifts."
"I see." If she didn't know better, she might almost think that he sounded sad. "I suppose there's no point in these sorts of conversations, then?"
Jian turns back to her food. Idly, she pushes a piece of meat across the plate with her fork. The only sound is her own breath- in, out, in, out. Still, she's uncomfortably aware of every square inch of her body.
A rustling noise at her shoulder. She looks up. The archon stands there, holding out his hand. "Come with me, dear." She flinches as his skin touches her own, but allows him to lead her away.
She should have lied. Pretended to be seduced by the power he wields or the size of his cock or whatever would have made him happy.
Jian's dread grows as the archon takes her up several more staircases. They must be going to the very top of the spire. After what seems like a long time walking in silence, her heart pounding, they emerge into open space.
The breeze tugs at her hair and raises goosebumps on her bare skin as she looks around. He's brought her to a rooftop garden or arboretum of some kind. They stand on a stone-tiled square perhaps ten meters on each edge. A fountain runs softly in the center and benches and potted plants have been set up nearer the sides. Beyond the patio, Jian can see trees and flower beds stretching to what must be the edge of the building. And beyond that? Beyond that stretches the blue-purple sky, punctuated by other lower spires, a few flyers, and, just visible, a bit of the ground. It almost looks like there might be a forest down there.
"Come, sit," the archon's soft voice distracts her from the breathtaking skyline. He gestures towards one of the nearby benches. More of a couch, really, it appears to have been grown rather than made, still-living woody vines forming the frame with cushions placed to sit on.
She obeys instantly, and he sits next to her. Their knees touch, and only the greatest effort keeps her from pulling hers away.
The archon takes both of her hands in his, inspecting them intently. Without a word of commentary, he pulls a small silver container from one of his pockets. A heavy scent of herbs fills her nostrils as he opens it, revealing a pale green cream. Scooping up a glob with the tips of his fingers, he spreads it over her ruined palms and begins to rub it in with his thumbs.
Jian gasps. As the ointment absorbs into her skin, a tiny bit of the pain that has become the background noise of her life subsides, replaced with a release of tension she didn't realize she was holding as her master massages her hands. She remains frozen, a strange mix of revulsion and pleasure.
After some time, he straightens from his work and begins to dig in his pocket again. Jian stares at her hands in disbelief. The innumerable cuts and needle pricks are gone, the skin flawlessly smooth. Even her wrists, where blisters raised and burst with the endless friction of her forced dance, have stopped weeping, although they still look raw. "Thank you, my lord," she breathes.
He doesn't respond, too focused on the contents of a small vial full of crimson liquid. Frowning, he pours a drop onto his finger and reaches for her face where the incubus' boot connected. Again, that almost electric feeling as whatever he's using soothes the pain and heals a fraction of the damage her body has sustained. His fingers move over the skin around her eyes slowly.
It seems to her that his entire mannerism has changed. His fingers are hesitant, as though he fears touching her skin almost as much as she dreads the contact. Despite the pressure on the deep bruise, it barely hurts. Jian finds herself dizzy and realizes she's been holding her breath.
Again he stops, tucking the bottle back into his pants' pocket. She hadn't realized how much her black eye had swollen until now, when her vision feels strangely expansive, like her eye is open too wide. Their knees still touch.
The archon bends down and grasps her ankles, pulling her feet into his lap with more of that same soft, almost trembling touch. He takes off the heeled shoes and sets them to the side, then reaches up and begins to roll the stockings down her thighs.
She should have known. Foolish of her, to think of this "kindness" as anything more than what it was: a preparation to again claim her as his property. Her feet begin to bleed again as the stockings take the dried blood that has permeated the fabric with them. I'm getting blood on his pants.
But he seems not to care. The silver jar reappears and again, he spreads herbal lotion over her wounds. Jian relaxes just a bit. Her reprieve will last a bit longer. And the pain relief is so nice…
Although she's certain the job is done, her skin repaired, the archon continues to rub her feet. The aches of standing in the shoes disappears, and so does some of the exhausted tension in her calves. Still, he continues. Hair has fallen in front of his face as he leans forward in concentration, keeping her from seeing his expression. She can only sit and tremblingly realize how long it's been since she's felt anything like this.
After what she judges to be nearly an hour, he straightens and, for the first time since they left his room, looks directly at her. Jian finds herself unable to look back through the tears that have filled her eyes unnoticed. A hand reaches out to caress her hair. "Is there any other injury that you would like me to look at?" All the persona and authority is gone from his voice. He almost sounds as though he's afraid she won't answer.
The tears spill over and she begins to weep softly she holds out her left arm, the spot where the burns are the worst. "If it's not too much trouble, my lord?"
"What's wrong?" He pulls her closer to him, arms wrapped around her in what most closely approximates a hug. "Of course I can, but that's not a reason to cry, is it?"
"I'm sorry, I-" She can't tell him the truth. That being near him, feeling his skin on hers, reminds her of what happened not two hours ago. Of what will happen again. That she doesn't understand what's going on or why he's wasting his time trying to fix her. "I am unused to such kindness. I know I have done little but inconvenience you."
He stiffens and doesn't respond for a moment. "I'm not sure I would call it a kindness myself. But thank you." His shoulders heave with a deep breath and the heaviness is gone from his voice when he speaks again. "And I do not find you inconvenient at all."
She looks up, trying to gauge what might be behind the sudden change in mood. He smiles down at her with what seems to be affection. "I mean, I'm not sure if anyone has ever told you this, but you are remarkably pleasant company."
"Someone has." What would Reena think if she could see her now? The thought is too painful; she pushes it away before it overwhelms her. "But thank you. I did not expect to ever hear it again."
The archon's arm tightens around her. "It's the truth." He holds her in the embrace for another moment before releasing her.
She should make a gesture. Something to show that she appreciates the work he's gone to on her behalf. "Do you need me to do anything for you? I could give you another back or a hand massage?" Her voice catches. "Or perhaps I could pleasure you again?"
He looks at her sadly for a moment before raising her hand to his lips and planting a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "How about you bring us each a blanket from the box under that table over there and you do me the honor of sharing this view?"
"Alright." She stands and tentatively walks towards the table. The cool stone underfoot feels surprisingly good when it's not aggravating open wounds.
The table legs, like the couch, appear to have been grown of still-living vines rather than built. Jian takes a moment to run her hand over the twisted surfaces before bending over to finish her task.
"I prefer to work with organic material whenever possible, you know" the archon says from behind her.
She looks back, trying to figure out if this the beginning of some kind of come-on. "Why? If I am allowed to ask."
"Of course you can." He smiles as she begins to walk back with a pair of blankets. "And what can I say? I enjoy seeing things grow and feeling something alive on my skin."
Jian holds out the blankets and he takes one, leaving her the other. Returning to her place at his side, she wraps herself in it. Instantly, some small part of her fear evaporates. A shield between her and the horrors of the dark city, however flimsy. "The vines remind me of my father's garden in his dwelling back home."
"Oh really? What kind of garden?"
"He loved flowers, but herbs as well. We used to-" She cuts herself off, cursing herself for allowing the memories of her other self to make their way here and worse, to make it out of her head.
"No, please, continue." He wraps an arm around her, pressing their bodies together again. It's not quite as bad this time, with her shield protecting her. "I'll share something about myself in return."
"We would walk there at sunset. Him and me, when I was a small child. We would pick herbs to flavor the meal." Tears are coming again and she swallows fiercely to keep them at bay.
His fingers tangle in her hair. "I'm afraid we don't have a sunset here. Like the rest of Commorragh, we live in eternal twilight. But tomorrow we could go for a stroll in the herb garden to pick out something for dinner?"
"Maybe?"
"It sounds like a date, then." The archon says warmly. He falls silent as he continues to play with her hair. After a long time, he speaks again. "I never knew my parents. My first memory is of serving the mistress of a star ship as we traveled the galaxy, seeking adventure and preying on the weak."
Jian looks up. "What did you do for her?"
"Initially I was a sort of cabin boy, preparing her bath and clothes, serving her meals, giving her massages, and so on. The tasks were simple, but I learned quickly that there were severe punishments for failing to satisfy her. As I grew, she placed me in charge of inspecting the engine and weapons systems before I eventually earned a place in navigation."
"I see." Jian's spark of interest is turning to annoyance. Such a transparent and needless attempt to gain her sympathy. It's likely not even true.
"It's a lovely view, though, is it not?"
"It is. Is all this yours?" She adjusts her position to get a better look, breaking his embrace in the process.
The archon nods. "I am the archon of this kabal, which makes me the lord of this entire pocket dimension."
"What do you do here?"
"What do you mean?"
"This whole… thing." She gestures to the view. "What is the purpose of the group?" Perhaps she can learn something about the life that is hers now and get a better sense of the man who holds her chains.
He remains silent for a moment, seeming to be considering his next words. "How much do you know about the Dark Muses of Commorragh?"
"Nothing. The craftworlds try not to think of Commorragh more than we- than they have to."
"That makes sense. The Dark Muses are a group of exceptional individuals who led our kind through the calamity of the birth of She Who Thirsts. Mortal aeldari who earned their godhood through their own power and excellence. They helped us when our old gods didn't, and so are still worshiped throughout our civilization, even all these millennia later."
"I didn't know that was possible."
He shrugs. "Legend says that at the height of our power, nothing was truly outside our grasp, so why not?"
"I suppose." She frowns, processing the new information. "So this is a temple, then?"
"A monastery, more like it." Jian can hear the grin in his voice. "To one of the muses in specific: Lhilitu, Consort of the Void and mistress of the night, of seduction and pleasure and the brewing of poisons." He hesitates. "I am her only living descendant, and thus her heir."
Jian's annoyance flares further, but she keeps her voice almost perfectly under control. "If you didn't want to tell me, you could have just said so."
He sighs heavily. "Every word of what I just said was true, my dear."
Frown deepening, she remains quiet. Upon further consideration, it probably is true, or at least he believes it is. Not that it affects her. Goddess blood or no, he still holds her life in his manicured hands. Her grip tightens a bit on his arm nonetheless.
Perhaps sensing the tension, he nuzzles close to kiss her cheek. "Don't worry, I'm not about to sprout wings or horns any time soon."
"So the people here, they worship you?"
"They worship my ancestor, really, but they view my bloodline as divine." His voice takes on a practiced air, as though he's reciting or making a speech. "I have been charged with sharing my wisdom and insight with them as we carry out Lhilitu's ancient traditions."
"And what would those traditions be?"
"Poison brewing, assassination, and the training of women as Lhameanites to serve as consorts and assassins to high-ranking archons."
"I see." She falls silent in contemplation.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks carefully, running a hand along her jawline.
"Just thinking about what you told me, and about Lynx. She said she made poisons and drugs for your kabal. I take it she is one of your Lhameans?"
"She is." He looks down at her with a soft smile. "Are you pleased with her as your hand maiden and counselor?"
"She seems nice."
The expression widens into a smirk. "You're quite awful at being direct, aren't you?"
"I am sorry, my lord. I will be more clear in the future. But yes, I am very pleased with her. She made me feel much better last night."
He nods and smiles, pulling her once again into a hug. "I'll make sure that taking care of you is her primary mission, then."
Jian returns the gesture. It's clearly what he wants right now. "Thank you, my lord. As I have said, I cannot express my gratitude for your kindness enough."
Again, that slight tension in his posture as he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Moments like this more than make up for it," he says softly. The tension is gone, though, by the time he straightens up. "I planned to have dinner sent up to your room tonight. I'm sure you could use a bit of solitude before Lynx arrives to help you with your bath. You have a long day in front of you tomorrow."
"What for?" Jian can't keep a bit of the fear that spikes up out of her voice.
"I planned to have Lynx escort you over to the elder sisters of the kabal so they can give you a full examination and tend to your larger injuries, like those burns."
"Thank you. Again." She's lived with them for so long, the thought of being rid of them is almost too strange to contemplate. Dimly, she wonders what the price for all these mercies will be. "They are the only wounds that have been causing me significant pain."
"Yes, those don't look like normal burns to me. How did you get them?"
"It was a Talos Pain Engine. During the raid where I was captured. My sisters and I destroyed it, but it sprayed acid in its death throes and some of it burned through my armor." As she speaks, a void opens inside her and she can hear the emotion draining from her voice.
"Oh… yes…" He sounds genuinely horrified. "We are absolutely going to have to have that looked at. Covenite wounds are quite hard to deal with."
Jian can't bring herself to reply. The memories are flooding back, threatening to overwhelm her. Walls slick with blood and the horrific smell of dissolving flesh. Her sisters dying around her. The red-haired archon laughing as she rips away everything Jian has and throws her into the darkness. Hands tugging away at the bits of her until there's nothing left…
"Hey, hey!" The archon's voice shakes her from the waking dream. His hand grips her shoulder. She jerks away from his touch, eyes wide and breathing ragged. She stares as he continues speaking, trying to process the soothing tones. "We'll fix you right up, you hear me? You're safe here. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. We will get you back into perfect condition in no time, I promise."
Jian takes a ragged breath. Her eyes dart from side to side, trying to reorient herself. She's in Commorragh. In the archon's garden, sitting on a couch. He's gripping her newly repaired hand with an expression of concern on his face. She inhales again and nods. "Okay. Okay."
He leans back in the couch and tugs her forward until she lies on top of him, cheek resting against his chest. She wants to resist, to pull away, but she can't. If she doesn't have something to hold on to, she might shatter, and if she closes her eyes, she can pretend that the man she's with is not her lord and master, but someone who cares for her deeply.
"I'm here," he murmurs. She can feel him begin to rub her back, up and down, up and down. "You're safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you here. What's wrong?"
She can't bring herself to respond.
"Alright. You'll tell me when you're ready, I'm sure." He sighs deeply. The rise and fall of his chest matches the movement of his hands on her back and she tries to sync her breathing to the rhythm. It's strangely comforting.
"Close your eyes," he says in her ear. "Breathe in the scent of the flowers and herbs that surround us. You're in a safe place, a better place. All your fears and worries are far away."
She wants so desperately to believe him.
"Focus on the scent and nothing but the scent… Nothing exists but the beautiful smells and the sound of my voice." The archon circles his hands on her back, skillfully avoiding the most damaged areas. His voice is almost hypnotic. "You can feel your worries and concerns slowly evaporating as you drift away… Surrounded by a garden wonderland, far detached from reality…"
The black hole in Jian's chest is crushing her. She lies still for a long time, listening to the archon's voice to distract her from her own heartbeat. Gradually, her breathing slows and she finds herself growing tired. He's still holding her, still rubbing her back, and despite all the pain and fear and revulsion, she doesn't want him to let her go. She doesn't want to be alone.
As the exhaustion overwhelms her and she drifts off into the darkness, the last thing she hears is that velvet-smooth voice, almost quiet enough that might have imagined it. "I won't hurt you again."
Cold breeze tugs at the trees in the rooftop garden and sends clear, musical tones from the crystal wind chimes that hang in them. On a couch grown from living wood sits a silver-haired drukhari holding a girl in his arms. For hours he sits and speaks soothing words as she twitches and whimpers in her sleep until finally she lies still and he picks her up to carry her to her room. The front of his silk shirt is damp with tears.