A/N: Thanks again to Ashilaa for her help in beta-ing. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Also, you should check out her story Priming Effect for some fun Harry Potter darkfic!
Jian makes her way towards Lynx's cabin, trying not to limp. Her ribs throb and her skin still feels like it's on fire. Although she's learned that the device the incubi keep using on her is called a bloodstone, she still has no idea how it works. And unlike every other wound they inflict, this one still brings a fresh world of pain every time.
She finds Lynx outside, dressed in leather armor over her robes. She wields a pair of curved, jagged blades as she dances through the forms of combat with an imaginary enemy, flowing like water from pose to pose. It's beautiful, elegant, and utterly unlike the brutish experience she just endured, even if it has the same vicious undertones.
"You look good," Jian says.
"Oh?" Lynx twirls around, delivering what would have been a killing blow. "Like what you see, huh?"
"I do." Jian smiles, ignoring the residual stiffness in her face where the sisters healed a broken cheekbone. "We'll have to spar sometime."
Lynx transitions into a different set of stances. "So what will I get when I inevitably win, then?"
"Oh, you think it's inevitable, huh?"
"Naturally. Don't you?"
"Not at all."
Spinning and twisting, Lynx finishes her maneuver with the point of one of the swords mere inches from Jian's face. "Sounds like we'll have to find out soon, then."
Proud of herself for not flinching away from the almost-certainly poisoned weapon, Jian rolls her eyes at the display. "Tonight?"
Lynx sheaths the swords and purses her lips in mock contemplation. "Tempting… very tempting… You'll be busy tonight, though, so how about tomorrow?"
"What am I doing tonight?" This is the first Jian is hearing of it, but she rarely has more than a day or two of notice for anything.
"Why don't you come inside?" replies Lynx, turning and walking towards the cabin without waiting for a response.
Jian follows, wondering what she plans to tell her that would require being inside. A month has passed since the first time she spent the night with the archon, and little has changed in the meantime. The rift between her and Lynx has mended, and though their relationship remains a fairly superficial one, Jian is grateful for it. She needs someone to talk to who doesn't expect things of her.
Her training sessions with the incubi still leave her unconscious more often than not, and the minor injuries the lhamean sisters haven't deemed worth healing after each encounter have started to accumulate, leaving her with a constant edge of pain to her awareness. The archon has stopped commenting on it.
He still asks for her nearly every day, but his sex drive seems to have cooled. He only uses her in that way a few times a week now. Jian isn't sure what to think of this. She hopes he isn't losing interest in her, preparing to toss her aside for another. The rest of their time is spent in more of the same activities he seems to love – reading and music, food and wine, long walks and silent closeness. Occasionally Lynx will join them for dinner or entertainment, but for the most part he seems to prefer if it's just the two of them.
True to his word, he's also begun teaching her to draw. He's an attentive and encouraging teacher, even if Jian feels a bit smothered by his constant attempts to instantly resolve any problems she might have. Yet even so, she finds their lessons some of the most enjoyable times spent in his presence.
Lynx doesn't stop in the main room of the house, instead leading Jian on, through the small bedroom with its low bed and into the expansive bathroom at the back of the house. In place of its usual tidiness, the space is filled with cosmetics, potions, and a huge case, nearly as tall as Jian, the contents of which she can only guess at. "What's all this?" she asks.
Stopping in the center of the bathroom, Lynx turns to her. "Valthiel is attending a party this evening; a social gathering of the archons of some of the dark city's elite kabals to celebrate the collapse of our old society and the rise of the current system." Her smile widens into a triumphant smirk. "It's traditional to arrive accompanied, and he's chosen you to come with him."
"Oh," is all Jian can think to say.
"It's quite an honor," says Lynx.
"What am I expected to… do?" Does he expect her to defend him when she can't even hold her own in a training scenario? Or worse, is she to be passed around to all his friends like a bottle of cheap wine?
"Oh, you know." Lynx waves her hand dismissively. "Just look pretty at his side and act suitably subservient. He'll handle the rest."
A trophy, then. "I understand. You'll help me get ready, right?" Perhaps, given who will likely be there, the array of bruises and half-healed wounds that dot her body will be considered a positive feature, but even still, she has no idea what the archon expects her to look like.
"Of course I will, sweetie." Lynx pulls Jian into a hug. "You're going to need all the help you can get to cover up this mess you've inflicted on yourself."
Jian winces as the movement twists the arm that was just resocketed a few hours ago. "Do I get to wear clothes?"
"Of course. When Valthiel told me about this yesterday, I had something made for you. We want to show off your assets to full advantage now, don't we?"
"That makes sense." She's trying to help, Jian reminds herself. And with her training and history, she is probably a good resource. Perhaps Jian should ask her about ways to better please the archon in bed. "What do we do first?"
"Well, we're in a bit of a rush; only a few hours left now. So why don't you run a bath while I get some of my things together?"
Jian follows her instructions, watching as the massive tub set into the floor of the bathroom fills with steaming hot water and Lynx pours in the contents of several flasks. One she recognizes as a liniment meant to soothe tired muscles, but the rest are strange to her. After the mixture is ready, Lynx helps her undress and ease herself down into the water.
"Alright, I'm going to clean you while I see what I can do about getting you fixed up. You can help by washing your hair."
They work in tandem, Jian doing her best to twist herself into whatever position Lynx requires as the lhamean looks over every inch of her body, rubbing her with herbal healing salves and advanced chemical ointments. She also injects her with what she can only assume are some kind of localized painkillers or muscle relaxants, as they drain some of the aches and pains from her limbs and leave her feeling just a bit weaker than she did before.
For her part, Jian soaps and rinses her hair and treats it with the oils and tonics Lynx hands her. Again, some are familiar from the regimen she's already been given, but there are multiple additions she doesn't recognize. She also drinks several substances that Lynx assures her are meant as preemptive antidotes to some of the poisons she's more likely to encounter that evening.
Finally, the bath is done and Jian climbs out, feeling at least somewhat distracted from her nerves. Lynx helps her dry her skin and hair and hands her a pot she recognizes – it's the skin lotion from her quarters, heavy with moisture and a floral scent that she assumes is appealing to the archon. She applies the cream while Lynx prepares for the next step. Neither woman speaks. This is in a way familiar territory for Jian, and her own nerves resonate off Lynx's serious attitude. She's happier in silence than trying to force banter.
She finds herself staring absently at her own leg and the rather miraculously healed skin. Not a sign remains of the green-brown patch where one of the incubi kicked her last week, nor of the burn from a bloodstone several days after that. What would my mother think if she saw me now? Would she applaud her doing whatever she could to survive? Or would she urge her to stop delaying the inevitable and pretending she could cheat She Who Thirsts?
Lynx's voice breaks through her melancholy. "Are you ready for me to make you up?"
Nodding, Jian takes a seat at a small table covered in cosmetics. Many of these too, she realizes, have come from her room. "Now then," says Lynx as she knots Jian's hair at the nape of her neck. "I'm going to start by bringing your skin up to a pristine white."
"I guess that is what's fashionable here, isn't it?"
Lynx laughs. "What gave us away?"
Jian smiles wryly as Lynx covers her skin in a cool, lightweight cream. Apparently satisfied with her work, she picks up a palette of colored powders and begins to work on Jian's eyes. "So, what does fashion look like on the craftworld where you grew up?"
"Yme-loc is a world of artisans, so it varies a great deal." Jian thinks, trying to separate her personal preferences from broader trends. "Fitted, wrapped robes were normal for formal occasions, and our heraldry is grey and orange, so those colors appear a lot. Pleats and embroidered trim as well. I always wanted to have a robe with fur around the edges, but it wasn't in style for certain, and the section of the craftworld we lived in was rarely cold enough to justify it."
"Interesting. Here, it's mainly visiting corsairs who wear fur, and perhaps a few of the hellion gangs." Lynx sets down the eyeshadow and picks up a small jar of black cream, brushing it delicately around Jian's eyes. "What about makeup? How did you style yourself for formal events?"
"I would do silver and green around the eyes, to match my coloring, with dark wine –" Jian breaks off as she catches sight of her own face in the mirror. Her skin a pale grey white with red lips and purple-smudged eyes. She screams as a horde of images assaults her, the pain and terror of weeks in the hold of a slaver's ship. Mocking laughter rings in her ears and she feels the twist in her stomach of something inside her shriveling and dying as hands grab at her –
"JIAN!" Lynx's voice breaks through the cacophony. "What's the matter?"
She pulls in a ragged breath. She's on the floor of Lynx's bathroom, curled up on the tiles. Tears she doesn't remember crying drip from her nose. "I can't go out like this."
"Khaine's flaming balls, I can take it off if you hate it that much. Just," Lynx's voice takes on a commanding tone. "Calm down and get off the floor."
"Please don't tell the archon…" she manages as she tries to collect her thoughts. If he knows, he'll ask her what happened and she won't be able to deny him gracefully.
"Of course." Lynx gestures for her to sit down again and dips a cloth into a bowl of clear, sharp-smelling liquid. "Just… tell me what's wrong."
Jian deposits herself in chair with a shuddering sigh. The image of her own face probably won't be as bad now that she expects it, but still she avoids looking in the mirror as Lynx wipes the color from her cheeks. "It reminds me of what happened before I came here. Because it looks the way I looked that night."
Giving Jian's shoulder a supportive squeeze, Lynx makes a disgusted face. "I'd like to think that my work is a bit more professional than that garish abomination." Jian doesn't comment. After Lynx finishes cleaning her lips, she sighs out again. "There must be something more to it than that, though."
"It's not just that day. I looked like that for a long time before that."
"But what about the makeup specifically?"
"Bad memories, that's all," Jian murmurs. "The kabal who brought me here was not kind."
Lynx bristles. "You know, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but you can at least do me the courtesy of not lying, okay?"
"It's the truth! I just don't want to tell you all the details of the worst days of my life."
"Then you can tell me that. I won't be angry, just… talk to me."
"I've told you before I don't want to talk about it. And I still don't."
"I hoped you'd changed your mind." Lynx steps aside and presents Jian with her appearance in the mirror. "See? All gone."
"Thank you." Jian looks up at her. "I don't mind makeup just, you know. Not that design."
Apparently not over her disappointment at having her work rejected, Lynx sighs again. "Let me try something else."
Jian sits quietly as her face is redone. In a way, she's almost grateful to have a single thing to focus her nerves on, rather than the great unknown darkness of the evening ahead. After a slightly longer interval, Lynx once again steps away to allow Jian to inspect her own appearence.
This face is similar, and yet somehow completely different. Her skin has lightened a few shades after a few months in the cold twilight of the dark city, but rather than continue in this direction, Lynx has instead chosen to simply smooth out the tone with a cream that brings a shimmer of white gold. Her eyelids have been darkened and brought out to increase their visual size, while by contrast her lips are understated and her cheeks have just a hint of color to them. "It looks great, Lynx."
"Of course it does, I did it." The smirk morphs into a softer expression. "I'm glad you like it, though."
"I do. I feel pretty again."
"Any time dear." Lynx strokes her chin. "I hadn't quite decided how to do your hair. Do you have any suggestions?"
"I don't even know what I'll be wearing…"
"Come on, you must have something you like. How did you do your hair back on Yme-loc?"
Jian sighs. "Maybe some flowers in my hair?"
"Perfect!" Lynx snaps her fingers and goes to work, leaving Jian's silver-white hair mostly loose, but pulling a bit back from her face and binding it with a few white lilies. A set of pins keeps the style in place, each topped with a black or purple faceted jewel.
As she finishes, she looks at the clock. "Oh dear, we're running out of time." Offering her hand to Jian, she helps her stand and directs her out of her robe before helping her into the bodice of her dress – which is, Jian realizes, what was in the large case she noticed when she entered. The heavy weight of a skirt settles around her hips and Lynx holds her hand to help her into shoes.
Jian looks at herself in the mirror as Lynx bends to fasten the ankle straps of her heels. She doesn't know what she expected, but the outfit is extraordinarily drukhari in styling. The top of her dress is a stiff black velvet, cut to reveal her entire back and most of her sides, with a neckline that plunges in the front to past her naval, leaving only the curves of her breasts and a strip of her stomach covered. The skirt is an equally revealing affair, more of the same heavy fabric covered in black feathers that glint with a green undertone. A bit hangs to her mid-thigh in the front, but most of the bulk of the skirt lies behind the splits up the sides of her legs, where it slowly tapers into a short train. Her shoes are teeteringly high, with spiked heels that leave her eye to eye with Lynx.
"Almost done," says Lynx. "What do you think?"
"Isha's tits..."
"She's sadly not available at the moment, so we'll have to make do with yours. You look beautiful, though. You're going to be the envy of many, even the archons, I promise."
Her smile is genuine, but Jian can't help but feel mocked. "Can I at least have some undergarments?"
Lynx shakes her head as she pats Jian's hip, left exposed from the daring slit. "They'd show, I think. The corsetry field on the bodice should give you all the support you need, though."
She has felt a bit of an odd compression since putting on the dress. Drukhari technology apparently has uses outside the battlefield as well. "What else do I need to do before I go?" It's futile to argue out of this dress, or this evening. She'll just have to endure whatever they have planned for her.
"Just a few little things…" Lynx bustles about, adding perfume in a heavy, musky floral scent, a dusting of a powder that she promises will make Jian's skin sparkle and taste heavenly, black nail polish and eyedrops to accentuate her pupils. "There you go. Now put these on." She holds out a pair of gloves, fingerless.
Jian obeys, crying out in surprise as she feels the spikes of pain that she associates with putting on her armor as the gloves send probes into her flesh. Lynx guides her arms behind her back and Jian feels them begin to mesh together, the fabric knitting into a single closed sleeve that pins her arms tight behind her back and twists her shoulders. "What is this?"
Lynx's hand rests on her shoulder. "You're the archon's slave, dear. No matter how much he likes you, people will have certain expectations. And if we fulfill them in this way, it has the bonus of helping your figure out a bit. Which reminds me." She steps away and returns with a pair of thin rods, one in silver and the other in a blackened metal. Tapping them together, she holds them against Jian's collar as they spool out into threads, twining around her neck to form an elaborate, interlaced fillagree neckpiece. They also, Jian realizes dismally, hold her head to a narrow range of positions. She won't be able to raise it all the way or turn it to the side until the neckpiece is removed. The soft click of a leash fastening to her collar isn't a surprise, just a depressing confirmation of what she's suspected all afternoon. Whatever respect or care the archon has demonstrated is merely an illusion, and one that will hold no sway over tonight.
"Hey." Lynx kisses her on the lips, a gesture that feels less one of lust than of reassurance. "Spill it. What are you worried about?"
For all the improvements in their relationship, Jian has never been able to speak frankly with Lynx about this portion of her life. The way she can never feel quite clean no matter how much she washes herself or how she can feel her own will slowly eroding in the face of living to cater to the whims of another. So she picks out a more easily solved fear and presents it. "I've just never been to one of these. I haven't even left this dimension since I got here."
"Look on the bright side." Lynx readjusts one of Jian's hairpins. "Everyone will be too preoccupied trying to assassinate Valthiel to even think about coming up with a plan to kill you."
Jian smiles lamely, unsure if it was supposed to be a joke. "I think I just need to get started."
"Come along, then." Lynx tugs at the leash and Jian follows her, focusing on steadying her breathing. She will not arrive at the archon's room in tears, she cannot.
However, there is no need to wait that long. He waits for them on the front steps of his palace, dressed in the most formal armor Jian has ever seen him in. Ash-white plates trimmed in green and gold and engraved with delicate rose designs nearly hide the black bodysuit he wears under them. A heavy green cloak hands from his shoulders, shifting a bit in the breeze. Some of his hair is pulled into a topknot, while the rest hangs free, decorated with small gold beads that glow faintly with runes. His eyes connect with Jian's and she can see him visibly start, opening his mouth and blinking in surprise as she approaches.
Giving a proper curtsy with her hands tied behind her back is nearly impossible, so she opts instead for a subtle bow. It will be a good time to test how well the threads that Lynx calls a dress remain in place with movement. "Good evening, my lord. Thank you for choosing me to accompany you tonight."
He doesn't reply, however, as he closes the gap between them with rapid steps. Lifting her almost effortlessly from her feet, he presses his lips to hers, kissing her. She can feel the hunger in the way he wraps himself around her and taste it on his breath. The archon guides her legs around his waist for support and holds her closer, seeming to almost drink her in as she tries to respond to his passion. It's not as hard as it might be. The archon is incredibly talented at arousing her by touch alone, and she can feel some part of herself longing for him to take her right there on the steps.
Finally, he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against her own and steadying her grip around his waist with his hand. "Of course I chose you; there was no contest."
She takes a deep breath. "I'm afraid," she whispers before she can stop herself.
"It will be fine." He moves in to gently nibble on her lower lip. "I'll be there to keep you safe. I promise."
"What do you want me to do while we're there?"
"You're coming as my servant, so just be of service however you deem fit. You likely will not need to do much."
"Alright." Jian swallows and blinks the last of the tears from her eyes. She can do this.
The archon gives her butt a final squeeze and meets her eyes. For a long moment he simply stares, seeming lost in thought and whatever he sees in the depths of her overlarge pupils. He kisses her again and she kisses back.
"We should head out…" he murmurs when he finally breaks the contact.
"Where is this party, if I may ask?"
The archon shifts her weight around his hips as he begins to walk down the stairs. "In the district of the prime kabals. Not far from the exit to our dimension, in fact."
"And who is hosting?" The information is making her less afraid, and distracts from the pain that's beginning in her shoulders.
"An archon by the name of Aurelia Malys is the primary backer, although several of her associates are the official hosts."
"Thank you. Although," Jian chuckles. "I don't know why I asked. It's not as though I'll know any of them by sight."
The archon sets her down to allow her to climb into the flyer under her own power. "And I doubt you'll have to concern yourself with their identities either. I'm not even sure if we'll meet them tonight." He watches her seat herself and reaches out to fondle her ear. "You really do look beautiful."
"Thank you." She doesn't feel beautiful. She feels cheap and trashy, dressed to show the galaxy exactly who she is and what her uses are. But the approval makes it less painful than it might be. Keeping the sigh of defeat from escaping, she turns her attention to making herself comfortable in her seat.
It proves an impossible task, as no angle or position she can find avoids putting even more pressure on her arms or bunching her skirt awkwardly around her. The shaping imbued in the top part of her dress seems to extend even to parts the fabric doesn't cover, forcing her to sit perfectly straight and constraining her even further.
After a few minutes, the archon notices her squirming and pulls her sideways onto his lap. She falls still as she leans against him, resigned to getting through the evening as quickly as possible.
Perhaps twenty minutes later, the flyer lands on a large platform, perfectly placed amongst a sea of similar vehicles in a myriad of colors and stylistic variations. The archon vaults over the side with a dramatic flourish of his cloak, then opens the door and urges Jian out with a tug on her leash. She obeys, heart pounding, and tries to focus on managing her dress and shoes. Taking a fall in this outfit could have disastrous consequences, for both herself and the archon.
A servant gestures for them to follow him along the catwalk that leads from the landing pad into the spire itself. The archon leads her forward carelessly, the leash loosening and tightening as he pays little attention to his movements. In the space between adjustments to her posture and attempts to guess her master's next move, she finds time to look around.
The pavilion they are about to enter is massive, big enough for the perhaps three hundred guests to mingle freely without feeling crowded. A soaring roof covers the entire area, with a dozen lower canopies forming implied rooms for conversations or dining. Although Jian doesn't know enough about the drukhari to identify those present, even by rank or title, she surmises that the guests comprise the elite of Commoragh society. Men and women wear elaborate suits of darkmetal armor or tight leather outfits cut away to show as much of their colorless skin as possible. A few incubi wander through the crowd, towering over most of their fellows. Nearly everyone present radiates power, poise, and a cruelty so intense that Jian can practically taste it in the air.
And their eyes. As the archon enters the room, she can feel the attention of those nearby turning first to him, sliding along the silver chain that dangles from his hand, and coming to rest on her. Many return to their conversations after, but some linger, ripping the clothes off her body in their minds. In their gazes, she can feel the hunger, the desire to see her suffering and helpless at their hands, and her heart seizes.
They have walked perhaps two dozen steps into the room when the archon stops. For a long, long moment he surveys the room and the other guests. He turns to her and meets her eyes. "You know, why don't we le – "
He cuts off as a young aeldari man approaches him with a tray of delicate glasses filled with clear liquid. Perhaps Jian's own age, he's obviously of craftworld origin and dressed in an outfit so minimal that it might be more decent had he been fully nude. A tattoo of a snake wraps around his shoulder and a heavy, spiked collar around his neck. The archon takes one of the drinks without a second glance at the slave, who walks off.
Before the motion is completed, something grabs at Jian from behind and she sucks in her breath sharply. Pointed nails press into the bare skin of her stomach and another cold, clammy hand slides down her exposed thigh. "So…" hisses a rough voice in her ear. "The lord of whores decided to show up with a spooked little kitten, just as pathetic as the rest of your so-called kabal."
The unknown assailant drops her an instant later and as he steps back, she gets a clear look at him. A thin, almost emaciated drukhari with dark red hair and narrow black eyes, skin more grey than white and dressed in sleeveless armor that befits a much more muscular man. He's still speaking, directly to her now and audible even over the pounding in Jian's ears. "Look at you; frail and scared, it's almost like a particularly mean glare might finish you off. How long do you think you're really going to last here in the dark city, girl?"
Jian looks to the archon, unsure if she's allowed to speak or not. He grips the stem of his glass and frowns, all softness gone from his expression. People are turning their attention towards the scene. He turns to her only to offer the briefest of nods before he speaks. "Lord Venatorix, while I sympathize with how long it's been since anyone deemed you and your men worthy of joining a realspace raid, and while I do understand how frustrating it must be to watch your supply of slaves dwindling while your skin withers and your hair turns grey, I must say…" His voice walks the line between polite and patronizing with a venom Jian has never heard from him before. "Surely preying on the property of your peers and betters to savor just a few instants of stollen terror is still beneath you? You are an archon, after all."
Watching a vicious smile spread across her master's face, Jian realizes with grim amusement how predictable drukhari are. She knows exactly what to say. "I will last as long as my lord the archon deems fit," she chimes in. There was no need to fake the tremor in her voice, though.
Valthiel shakes his head sadly. "See? This so-called pathetic slave has still managed to show you off in courage, wits, and propriety. Really, my good lord, this is not a good showing for you when you desperately need one. I fear one day soon you'll find yourself choking on your own frustration and impotence, and while I won't weep for your passing, I will still mourn the loss to the city. However small it may be." He pauses for an instant to allow his words to sink in before addressing Jian. "Come along, sweetness, our presence is better spent elsewhere."
Jian follows him as he moves deeper into the event. Despite what seems like a victory, she feels hollower and more dejected than ever. Fear provided a distraction, but she's been reduced once again to a flesh doll on display for everyone else's amusement. At least this time she won't be handed off to the highest bidder. She hopes.
A few minutes later, the archon stops again, tugging the leash to urge her closer to him. She approaches, head bowed.
"Don't mind him," he says quietly. "He's a little man with major issues."
"More so than most of the people here?" she replies with a wan smile. Perhaps she shouldn't have done that. Perhaps in this place, even the most innocuous statements are too much from her.
The archon chuckles. "Very much so. I'm genuinely glad you're here by my side, though."
She wants to lie, to make him happy, to tell him that she's glad she's there. But there's no chance she could make it sound convincing. "And I am glad that you are not regretting your choice of date, my lord."
"I promise, our next date will be better," he murmurs, reaching up to caress her cheek.
"Alright." She tries to meet his eyes, but is stopped by the press of the collar into the back of her neck. Reminding her that it's not her place.
He seems not to notice, however, as he leans in to kiss her, his hand sliding under her bound arms and coming to rest on the bare skin of her back. It's a surprisingly gentle kiss, one of affection rather than domination, and she finds herself wanting to lose herself in it and forget the circumstances that surround them.
"Awww, how cute!" The voice is a woman's, with what Jian has come to recognize as an upper-class Drukhari accent. "I must say, Valthiel, the two of you look absolutely adorable together."
Breaking the kiss, the archon straightens up, although he keeps his arm around Jian. She follows his gaze to see a woman approaching, tall and regal, with skin unusually pale even for Commorragh and loose black curls arranged into an elaborate updo. Her armor is deep midnight blue trimmed in bright green, cut to flatter her trim figure and with a matching mask to obscure the upper half of her face.
"Lady Malys," the archon says politely. "I'm pleased and honored beyond words that you deem it worthwhile to spend your highly valuable time speaking with me this evening."
Jian lowers her eyes as the other archon approaches. Beyond the deference she knows is expected of her, some instinct warns her to be wary. More than anyone else here, she feels a sense of menace from this woman – not the grasping cruelty of Lord Venatorix, but a cold darkness that she could sink her psyche into forever without reaching the bottom.
She does not, however, escape notice. "And you, aren't you the most precious thing I've seen in the last century or two?" Lady Malys coos. She continues her approach until she's uncomfortably close to Jian and the archon. Her fingers drag through Jian's hair.
Helpless to flee, unable to even push the lady's hands away, Jian remains frozen and waits for what comes next.
"So…" Lady Malys continues, her amused tone unabated. "How much would it cost me to enjoy her company for a week, Valthy? Name me a price."
Jian can feel her eyes widen. Some part of her knows this won't happen, that the archon almost certainly wants her all to himself. But if she's wrong, or if, as she suspects, this is an offer that it would be dangerous to refuse, there's nothing she can do to stop it. Even speaking up in protest will only make things worse. She trembles under the hands of both drukarhi.
Almost instantly, the archon shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Lady Malys, but this one isn't for sale, nor for rent; she stays with me," he says quietly.
"What?" Somehow that undercurrent of amusement remains even in the shock of the other woman's tone. "Do you mean that your answer is simply 'no'?"
"I'm afraid so. I would, however, be delighted to find you another girl to your taste from among my kabal if you would grace us with a visit one day."
Jian lets out her breath but can't still her quivering. Heavy silence lingers between the archon and Lady Malys, noticeable even with the background noise of the party going on around them.
And then the lady laughs, a beautiful, musical sound that Jian can't believe comes out of the mouth of someone so ominous. "You never cease to amaze me, Valthy. You know, I think I might do that. I'll be in touch. See you then." She delivers a friendly, almost teasing slap to the archon's cheek and walks away quickly.
So great is Jian's relief that she can't even bring herself to thank the archon as he leads her away.
The rest of the party begins to blur together. Although no one else dares to touch another archon's property, Jian can still feel leers from many of guests, tracing the lines of exposed skin and enjoying the suggestion that she wears nothing under the elaborate gown. The discomfort of having her arms pinned so tightly spreads up her neck and shoulders and down her back, every motion or tug of the leash triggering a new ache. Her hair falls in front of her face and she can't even toss her head to move it aside.
For his part, the archon rarely stays in one location or conversation for long. He moves among the fountains and caged dancers, the beast fights and the endless stream of slaves serving food and drinks, sometimes stopping to watch a fight or converse with another guest, but never for long. This is a business and political venture for him, Jian realizes. He forms connections, asserts power or props up others, and hints at future alliances and exchange of goods. Sending one of his lhameans to the other party as a companion seems to be his primary bargaining chip, and she gets the sense that it's considered a status symbol in Commorragh.
At least one of these offers is rejected on the basis that the other party has a different source she prefers to use. The revelation surprises and annoys him, although Jian suspects that it's not obvious to those who aren't as intimately familiar with his facial expressions as she is. Interesting. While she doubts that the Kabal of the Ashen Rose is the only group that trains lhameans in city, he apparently has records of who the others are contracted with. She wonders if this information was freely shared or obtained via some kind of subterfuge, but suspects the later.
Finally, the evening seems to be winding down, at least a bit. The entertainment continues unabated and if anything the crowd is thicker, but not as many people stop the archon as he leads her towards one of the smaller canopies dotted throughout the space. A group of chairs has been arranged around a burning brazier to ward off the chill of the rest of the city.
He stops before he reaches the circle and turns to Jian. Reaching behind her, he runs his hand along the sleeve binding her arms and she feels it part, turning into a pair of long gloves once again. His fingers trace up her spine before settling between her shoulder blades, pressing into the aching muscle and relieving just a bit of the pain. He plants a kiss on her forehead and heads for his seat without a word, bringing her along behind.
Jian resists the urge to stretch the knots away from her back as she finds herself standing awkwardly at the archon's side. In absence of any better options, she sits on the floor next to his chair, careful to tuck the spiked heels to the side and to ensure that the skirt covers as much of her as it reasonably can. Finished arranging herself, she leans against the side of the archon's chair, just under where his arm rests. Like the loyal pet I am, she thinks. The thought should probably bring disgust, but it doesn't, simply hollowness.
A moment later, she feels a brush against the top of her head. The archon strokes her hair, playing idly with the loose strands and her hair pins as he talks with his companions. She tries her best to follow the conversation, which covers raid routes and unprotected shipping lanes within the Imperium of Mankind, eventually stretching into discussing other groups within the galaxy as well. Some she recognizes from her father's stories of his work as a thought-talker, others are strange to her.
Jian's thoughts drift. The night is far from over, but for the moment, she has a reprieve. Despite all the humiliations, it hasn't been as terrible as she feared. And the archon hasn't made it worse than it needed to be. Giving her to Lady Malys would have won him favor with another powerful archon. She should return the favor somehow.
I could suck his cock. Here in front of everyone.
She discards the thought, horrified and disgusted with herself for thinking of it. Even more so because it took her a moment to decide against it. By Isha, she's become such a slut. The feeling intensifies as tingling pleasure races over her body. The archon has moved his hand down and begun fondling her ear.
Bringing her mind back to the present, she sneaks a glance at the rest of the circle. They appear to be a fairly representative group of the other party guests. Most have come accompanied as well, although the choice of date seems more commonly to be other high-ranked drukhari or a lhamean companion. No one else sitting nearby has a slave with them, and, she realizes, she's seen very few others in her position tonight.
If bringing her was an unusual decision, there must have been reasoning behind it. Something she can play into to impress his fellows.
She's almost returned to her original idea when a stray thought drifts across her mind. The second evening she spent with the archon, when he brought her up to the roof. She knows what she can do.
Hoping he doesn't misinterpret her actions and that there's enough slack in her leash to allow for them, she crawls forward to kneel in front of him. After an instant's hesitation, she reaches for the fastening of one of his armored boots.
The archon sighs happily and lifts his foot a fraction, making her work easier. Jian relaxes a fraction and eases the boot off. Massages have never been a particular talent of hers, but she's had ample opportunity to practice over the last few months and it gives her something to focus on other than her own situation. He doesn't miss a beat in his conversation as she eases his foot into her lap and begins to work.
She has no idea how long she continues her work, but her hands have begun to throb with no sign of a lull in the conversation above her head. She's long since switched to the other leg and has now started to work up his calves as well. To stop now, without prompting, would likely be worse than to never have started. The rest of the group has noticed her and congratulated him on how well-trained she is, so they would take note if she went back to her old position.
After perhaps another fifteen minutes, the archon leans down and rubs her head before lifting her chin with a finger. She finds herself looking into a gentle smile. "Are you ready to return home, my sweet thing?"
"If that is what you wish, my lord," she breathes. Her aching hands pause. A commotion is building in the on the other side of the gathering, although she can't tell what the source is yet.
He looks over to the source of the noise, then turns his attention back to her. "Ah, yes, that is our cue. Get ready." He lifts his foot and Jian complies, putting his boots back on before accepting a hand to get to her feet.
A crowd has grown around the disturbance by now, and as Jian follows the archon back through the space, she realizes that someone is screaming. Cries of pain, terror, and orgasm have punctuated the night, mostly from the various entertainment, but this is different. She cranes her neck and rises to her toes in an attempt to see who or what is making the sound. It might be better not to know, but her curiosity won't allow her to leave without at least trying.
The party guests have clustered around a single figure hunched on the floor. It takes her a moment to identify it as male or female, and another to realize that the man is Lord Venatorix, crawling blindly on all fours as he bellows in pain. Blood drips from his mouth, his nose, his ears, and soaks into the pants of his armor. His skin has turned ashen and shriveled on his frame, and his eyes… It takes Jian a moment to realize that his eyes have melted and run down his face to mix with the blood.
She turns away from the disgusting sight, horror mixed with a strange triumph. He deserves it. So does just about every other drukhari here tonight. But unlike them, she doesn't need to be here to savor his agony.
The archon looks back at her, and his face is one he's never shown before. A self-satisfied expression of vicious glee that she can imagine him wearing as he steps onto the bridge of a helpless craftworld ship. She smiles back, face a halo of innocence as she follows him back to his vehicle.
When they've taken off, Jian sinks into her seat with a suppressed sigh. It's been a long night, and likely will extend for much longer. The archon has been salivating over her all evening. She will need to satisfy him before she can sleep, and she knows from experience that it often takes hours for him to spend his lust fully. Sometimes all night. Perhaps there is some merit to his stories of being descended from a sex goddess, or perhaps all drukhari are this jaded to pleasure. Or maybe she's simply not good in bed.
For the moment, however, he seems occupied. A series of movements she doesn't catch opens a hidden compartment filled with vials and jars. The archon pulls half a dozen out and proceeds to consume the contents, pouring them down his throat one by one. Some glow in different colors, others are powders that he washes down with water.
"Are you alright?" asks Jian.
He smiles, all trace of sadism gone from his expression. "Oh yes, just a safety precaution. Broad spectrum antidotes to the most fashionable toxins in the city at the moment, just in case there's something I haven't picked up on."
"Do I need to take anything?"
"I don't think so." He reaches over to caress her cheek before unhooking her leash and stuffing it into a pouch on his belt. "I've kept an eye on you the entire time we've been out this evening, just in case you started to develop symptoms. You're fine."
Jian isn't sure how that can be true, when he spent so much time talking to others and otherwise distracted, but she accepts his statement without complaint. "Thank you."
Finished with his potions, the archon shoves the compartment closed and leans back in his seat, sliding an arm behind her shoulders. "You did really well tonight, you know."
"I'm glad." The statement is a true one. Pleasing him, making her fear and humiliation not entirely pointless, these are positive things.
"How about we finish up with a relaxing bath in one of my hot springs? I'm sure your muscles and joints could use the chance to relax."
"That sounds really nice." The whole affair has given her an unclean feeling that she longs to wash off, even if she suspects that, like everything else, it never will. At least it will be new and different. They've never had sex in the bath before. "I didn't know you had those."
He smiles, apparently pleased with her reaction. "One of the advantages of being, well, someone like me. There is very little that I don't have, and very little that I don't have that I cannot get."
"Alright." She falls quiet, unsure of how else to continue the conversation. After a few minutes, she speaks up again. "I doubt anyone will miss Lord Venatorix."
That gets a laugh from him. "The rest of his kabal might, as they squabble over whatever power and resources he had left until it's squandered or someone takes the throne and purges their competition. But no, I agree with you."
"I certainly won't miss him." Why she's walking down this road, she's not sure. She has known that her master has killed hundreds, if not thousands of aeldari, in all manner of horrific and cruel ways, throughout his life. And between the Ashen Rose and his corsair fleet, the blood of countless more is on his hands. But tonight is the first time she has seen it happen.
"Neither will I." He brings his hand up to stroke her hair, although oddly in a less intimate way than he did earlier in the evening. "He should not have spoken to you that way. Even if we did get the last laugh."
Jian shrugs. "It was not unexpected. I was prepared. Wasn't even that frightened, really." Apart from the initial spike of alarm when the man grabbed her, it was clear that he was no real threat to her.
"You still deserve better, though." The archon leans in and kisses the top of her head and Jian feels a strange twisting in her stomach.
"Thank you," she replies quietly. "And thank you for not letting Lady Malys… have me."
His grip tightens on her. "I would be an incredibly poor master and unfit for my position if I did that now, wouldn't I?"
Has she misspoken? Is he offended that she doubts him? "I think most people there would have. Especially for her," she clarifies.
"Well, I am not most people, then; I would never. Especially not you."
Especially not you… Again, the disquiet in her gut as he expresses what seems almost to be affection. Whatever she feels is muted by exhaustion, though. She hopes she doesn't fall asleep while he's using her. It would be an embarrassing end to an already ignominious day. "I'm glad to hear that."
They finish the trip in silence. When they land, the archon stirs. "Do you want me to carry you over to the hot springs? Or can you walk?"
"I can walk just a bit further, I'm sure." Whether she will be able to when he's done with her is anyone's guess, but they will have to figure that out later.
"Does that mean you want to walk?"
She nods. She'll feel less like nothing if she can at least move under her own power. She does, however, accept his arm to guide her along the path.
This landing platform is in a part of the gardens she's never been to before, more trees and fewer small plants and shrubs. The spire is still close, she can see over the treetops, but it feels more secluded and just a bit wilder. At least people are less likely to walk in on them. He's never seemed interested in making her perform in front of others for the sake of it, but several times someone has arrived to speak with him while she's working. It seems to be entirely unsurprising here, but she would rather it not happen again. Not tonight.
Rounding a corner, the archon stops, letting her take in the sight before her. A pile of boulders sits halfway embedded in the soil of a clearing, forming the edge of a pool, perhaps five meters across at its widest point. The water is slightly cloudy and shifts with movement from a point at the far edge, which Jian assumes is the actual spring. A thin haze rises slowly from the surface.
"Oh, this is beautiful," she says. "I had no idea this was here."
The archon smiles and detaches the cloak from the shoulders of his armor, folding it and placing it on one of the rocks. A small stack of towels and what she assumes are robes are waiting nearby, she notices. "Well, now you do. Feel free to visit as often as you like."
"It might be nice to take a soak after training sometimes." Jian follows suit. Time to make it easy for him. The skirt detaches easily and she drapes it over one of the taller rocks. But then she stops and her face heats.
She can't remove the rest of her clothing. The gloves have sunk their hooks into her skin, the straps of the ridiculous shoes are locked, and what fabric the top of her dress has in it has seamed itself without visible fastening. He'll have to rip it from her body. Which is probably the point.
Biting her lip, she looks up. "Can you help me undress?" she says in a small voice.
"Of course." While she was fiddling with her outfit, the archon has pulled his armor off. Like her own training garb, it leaves trails of blood where it detached from his nervous system. Jian knows from experience that the process is painful as well, but he shows no sign of discomfort as he approaches her, fully nude.
He runs his fingers along the top edge of the gloves and she lets out a sharp hiss as she feels the miniscule claws retract before he taps something that makes the elaborate neckpiece coil itself into two small balls, leaving only her normal collar. Next, he picks up a knife to slice the bodice up the back and remove it before bending down to unfasten her shoes. Without a word, he straightens and walks toward the spring.
Quickly peeling the gloves off, Jian steps out of her shoes and wiggles her toes in the grass. There's no feeling in them, but she's certain it will return quickly enough. She takes a deep breath and follows the archon into the water.
Warm water stings on the cuts that Lynx hadn't managed to heal before they left and prickles of heat and cold race up her skin as the steaming water contrasts with the crisp air. Her body aches from the wide variety of mistreatment it's received recently, but the heat pushes it from the surface into the deeper muscles, where it's easier to deal with. It's wonderful.
The archon must be watching her expression as she lowers herself into the pool. "I knew you would like it." There's a familiar grin in his voice. "Now come over her and make yourself comfortable while I work on your hair and back."
Jian stops her descent and looks at him in confusion. What does he want her to do?
"I mean…" The archon hesitates. "It must have been an exhausting evening for you, and I think you deserve to be pampered a bit before we go to bed, don't you?"
"That sounds really nice. Thank you." Still discomforted, she half-walks, half-floats towards him. The water isn't deep, just over her head at its deepest point. She settles herself on a rock next to the archon and waits for what he wants to do.
A moment later, she feels his fingers in her hair again, mixed with the coolness of soap. Without speaking, he lathers her hair and rinses, turning the process into a slow, gentle scalp massage that sends waves of pleasure down her body in a much different way that his touch normally does. When the last handful of warm water has poured over her head, he moves down, pressing into the tired, stiff muscles of her neck and shoulders and undoing the knots that have clustered in her upper back.
Jian lets him work, remaining quiet except for the little moans of pleasure that occasionally escape. The feeling of having someone simply care for her, after all that's happened today, it feels far more overwhelming than such a simple gesture warrants. It washes away just a bit of the hollowness and makes her feel like a person again, even if it is only on his terms.
Finished with his work, the archon pulls her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. It feels oddly protective, with none of the possessive lust she's used to from him. At odds with the arousal that she can feel pressing into her thigh. She leans back into his arms, trying to focus on the comfort and relaxation while she can. "That was wonderful. Thank you."
"My pleasure," he replies. "We will have to do something like this again soon."
"We will." She's unsure if he means the part, or this strangely peaceful interlude, but either way it's not her place to argue with him.
Jian closes her eyes as the archon's fingers entwine with her own and he twists to kiss her on the cheek. It's such a strange contrast: the affectionate, almost reverent man in whose lap she sits now; the passionate lover, insistent on wringing every ounce of pleasure that her body holds for either of them; and the archon, with a malevolent smile and death at his fingertips. She wonders which one is his real face, or if it's none of them and the eldar he would most like to be is locked away from her somewhere.
Not that it's really her place to muse. What matters for now is that he seems to be in a good mood and, for the moment, nothing is required of her. Or is it?
Turning in his embrace, she kisses him, putting as much passion as she can create into the gesture. He responds in kind, pressing her to him and lingering for long minutes.
Something stirs in Jian. Not quite the same discomfort that she felt earlier, but a tug of something she hasn't felt in a long time, and never quite like this. Can she be… attracted to this man?
No sooner has the thought crossed her mind that a wave of violent emotion breaks over her. Reena's disappointed face mixes with Verynia's mocking voice in her ear. "Look at you. Always knew you were destined for She Who Thirsts, abandoning the healer to jump some drukhari's dick. What about your loyalty?"
Nausea overcomes her and she breaks the contact, breathing hard to avoid vomiting on the archon.
"What's wrong?" The archon grips her arms and looks her over rapidly, intense and clinical in his scrutiny. "What happened? How do you feel?"
"Sick," Jian replies faintly.
"Let me help you up." He climbs out of the water and wraps himself in one of the robes before bending down to scoop her up. A towel drapes over her to hide her nakedness. Still cradling her in his arms, he begins walking towards the spire.
"I'm starting to feel better," she says after a few minutes. "I think maybe I'm just dehydrated." She's not sure if it's the fresh air and the cool breeze on her face, or the loss of the intimacy she was about to open herself to that's brought the improvement.
The archon slows his pace somewhat and his breathing calms. "It's possible. I'll give you some strengthening tonics when we're back at my quarters, and after that I think it's time for you to have some much-earned rest, Jian."
"That sounds nice." She can't suppress a sigh. "It's been a long day…" She can barely remember the beating she took this morning, even if the aftereffects are still there.
"It has. You've performed extraordinarily, though." He sounds almost… sad. Regretful, even.
"What's wrong?" Jian murmurs. The warm water has made her sleepy and now that the nausea has worn off, her exhaustion has returned.
The archon shakes his head and forces a smile. "Nothing, I just- you should have received a nutrition package as soon as we entered our sub-space."
"I'm alright, really."
"You're obviously spent and possibly poisoned. I should have realized that and made sure you were taken care of as soon as we returned home." He sighs.
"You did, though. It was really, really nice." She's not sure what exactly is bothering him, but it seems to be related to her, so she should try to fix it. And a few moments of quiet, undemanding affection have done more for her than a king's feast would have, she's certain.
He smiles down at her, but doesn't speak again until they're in his quarters. By then, Jian has half fallen asleep in spite of herself. Motion startles her and she returns to full alertness to find herself wearing a white silk shirt, somewhat oversized on her frame, propped up in his bed with pillows. She adjusts the blankets on her lap and watches as the archon busies himself at the table, unsure of what she's meant to do next.
A few minutes later, he returns with a cup of tea and three miniature glasses, containing liquids which he tells her will boost her immune system, rebalance her salt levels, and increase the vitamins and minerals in her body. Obediently, she consumes all three and the tea before accepting the offer to lean back in bed and sink into darkness.
The last thing she sees before she falls asleep is the archon, sitting in a chair next to her bed. Her hand is held in both of his.
The girl lies still throughout the night, exhaustion of the body and spirit keeping her from even the normal movements of sleep. Only an occasional gasp reveals the tumult of her dreamscape.
The man, meanwhile, sits at his own bedside for hours, checking and rechecking her temperature, her pulse, her breathing, until he's satisfied that her illness is one of the soul and not of the body, just as he has known. Only then does he allow himself to crawl under the blankets and fall asleep at her side.
A/N: I'm sure Aurelia will forget being snubbed like that and Valthiel's decision will have no future negative consequences whatsoever.