A/N: First off, thanks again to Ashilaa for editing, as well as to my finacee and to Warrax for all the feedback.
Sorry for the delays posting. This was a big chapter, and I wound up having to do a lot of edits before I was satisfied. Still not sure if I am, but onward nonetheless!
Jian's sword moves like lightning, bringing her old Banshee skills to bear on the equally quick movements of her opponent. As the archon grins at her over their crossed blades, a strand of his silver hair comes loose from its tie and falls into his face. He shifts his weight for another avenue of attack, which she parries.
By Isha, this is hard. The archon is almost as quick as she is and more skilled, while her speed is impaired by the state of her body. Every movement she makes, the impact of a blocked blow, even simply the weight of her sword, it all triggers some kind of pain. Most of it she barely notices, but occasionally something is sharp enough to slow her reactions and give the archon an advantage he doesn't need.
Leaping out of the way of yet another swing of the archon's sword, she barely avoids having her own weapon knocked from her hands by his follow-up strike. One of her cracked ribs throbs out a response and she grunts before pressing forward. If she can't end this soon, she'll make some kind of mistake that will draw attention to her injuries, and that would be even worse than losing.
After having her on the defensive for the last few seconds, the archon seems surprised at the intensity of her assault. He takes a few quick steps back and Jian smiles. He's backing into a tree, one of the many that surround the grove they're using for their match. While it might be a smart move on a real battlefield, reducing the potential avenues by which others can take advantage of his distraction, in this one-on-one environment it will merely limit his movements and allow her to take the advantage.
The archon, however, has other plans. As she closes in on him, he retreats even faster until he's almost touching the tree. Then, before she can complete another strike, he launches himself off the trunk, coming straight for her.
Jian steps aside to let him pass by her. But as she does, her knee buckles and she can't move fast enough to avoid the archon as he tackles her to the ground.
She lands in the soft dirt with an impact that causes her to inhale sharply. The archon straddles her, panting as he raises the point of his sword to her neck. "I win."
"Indeed you do," she gasps out, still struggling to regain her wind and cursing herself for her slowness. The sisters healed her severed tendons well enough yesterday that she can walk without limping, but her knee is still not ready for this kind of use.
"And what may I claim for my victory?" The archon stands and offers her his hand.
The archon's tone is clearly teasing, but Jian can't bring herself to share his humor as she accepts the help up. "Anything you wish," she replies seriously.
He pretends to consider. "Hmm… how about I let you off easily with a kiss and some company while I return to my quarters to get ready to leave?"
Jian nods and they begin to wind their way through the garden paths, carrying their swords. It's been three weeks since the party, and while the memories of the event and what happened afterword haven't faded from her mind, they emotions they bring up are less acute. Her routine has resumed.
The archon still calls for her nearly every day, and has become increasingly elaborate and demonstrative in the entertainment he dictates for their dates. Last week, he even brought her on an overnight hunting expedition to the forests at the lower rim of the kabal, where they and their entourage spent hours stalking the massive predators that lived there and glorying in the exultation of bringing them down with nets and barbed hunting spears.
Yet even sitting next to the fire, warm in the archon's embrace and full on the roasted flesh of their kill, the emptiness and fear inside Jian had remained, just as it gnaws at her now. No matter what she does, no matter how hard she's pretended to be a perfect, adoring little thing with no greater desire than to fulfil his every fantasy and whim, she's still losing him.
Since the party, he hasn't asked to use her once.
But what is she doing wrong? She hasn't become wholly unappealing, she knows that. After she realized what was happening, she began to offer herself to him, arriving in his bed each night in the most seductive lingerie in her closet and consulting with Lynx to learn the secrets of pleasing a man. He seems happy enough to take her when she does, but still he does not initiate. His attitude has changed, too; the weariness she noticed some evenings becoming near constant despite his continued show of good humor.
The threat of being cast aside, left in the gutter for some other member of his kabal to pick up and claim, is beginning to overwhelm her. She's started to lose weight, and when she can sleep at all, her nightmares are near constant. It must be disturbing the archon, as he has taken to offering her drugs to quiet her rest. Although she accepts them, she still wakes each morning tired and drained.
"… you alright, Jian?" His voice interrupts her worries, making them less clear, but even more urgent.
"I am quite well," she replies with a smile. "Just lost in thought, I suppose."
"I asked if you'll be alright on your own for a day or two? I need to visit my ship and see to a few things before we leave, and I don't know that there is much you could be involved with."
Ah, yes. The raid on the mon'keigh world. Despite the amount of effort and planning being invested into it, her mind has been so full of her own problems that she forgets whenever something isn't directly reminding her. "No, I will be just fine." She reaches up to give him a kiss. "I'll miss you, though."
The archon hesitates, then takes her hand and continues walking. "What do you plan to do in my absence?"
"I will likely spend the afternoon in my room, reading and improving my drawing skills." Another pile of books arrived in her room a few days ago, and she has managed to find a few that she enjoys. "And then Lynx has invited me to join her for dinner. Tomorrow I will spar with your guards and I have no plans after." It depends on how long she's unconscious.
"It sounds like a rather nice day, all told." Again, a hesitation. "Are you enjoying your lessons with them?"
"Of course! Why do you ask?"
"It's just… I'm starting to wonder what Bealfor is actually teaching you."
"What do you mean?" Panic starts to rise in Jian.
The archon stops on the path and takes her other hand. "Don't take this the wrong way. But I'm not sure that you have improved all that much since you arrived in Commorragh. Now, you were already quite skilled, but I still would have expected a bit more progress by now."
"I must be having an off day," she replies with a careless shrug. She has learned things from her training, even if they have nothing to do with the sword. "One day, I'll beat you."
"And what will you ask for as a reward when that happens?" He seems to accept her excuse and begins walking again.
"Hmmm…" Jian purses her lips and thinks. "I would demand that you let me teach you to sing."
"Oh? How come?"
"Because you said you didn't know how. And I'm certain you would have a beautiful singing voice." His speaking voice is so smooth and rich, she can just imagine how wonderful it would sound carrying a melody. And unlike many things they could do together, singing doesn't involve giving more of her body or soul to him. Perhaps that's why she was never tempted to devote herself to it as her Path – it was always a diversion, not an integral part of herself.
"You know, you don't have to beat me in a duel to do that. If you want to teach me, I would love to be your student."
"We'll start as soon as you return, then." Jian kisses him again. If it keeps him interested for a bit longer…
"I look forward to it." The archon lets her hand go. "But I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here; I need to be on my ship soon and I have a few things I need to do first." He finishes with another kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you soon, Jian."
"Be safe, Valthiel."
He walks away from her with a hand raised in farewell. Jian watches until he's disappeared around a corner before returning to her room to make a vain attempt to enjoy her relative comfort while it lasts.
Yet again, awareness brings only pain. Throbbing in her stomach, her arms, her legs, her head. Each a memory of another blow from the incubi before she passed out. There is also a sharper, more insistent pain between her shoulder blades and another in her breasts, although she doesn't remember taking any hits in either location.
Fuck Lord Vrash, and fuck every single one of them. This stupid dance will keep going until they get bored or go too far and actually kill her, and all she gets from it is a chance to distract from the downward spiral that she's trapped in, even as it feeds it. She knows she should stop, but giving up will just make her feel worse about herself.
And yet continuing to play this game isn't helping her either. She's come to appreciate the bursts of pain from her opponents on the rare occasions when her sword connects, and even more so when they damage each other during the matches she sometimes has the chance to observe before her own turn comes. Like the pleasure she feels from the archon's touch, it lingers on her skin in way that never quite washes off. The city is corrupting her, she knows.
As she lies there, trying to center herself and let her body heal, she feels something moving along her back. Fingers, slim and soft, but pressing insistently into every painful place. Why does it have to hurt so much? She can hear sounds from outside as well, voices. Angry shouting, although she can't make out the words.
Someone else speaks, just next to her, blocking out the argument. A woman's voice, not one Jian recognizes, but sultry and heavy with spite. A lhamean, almost certainly. "It's beautiful, downright marvelous. I've really outdone myself this time."
"What?" Jian mutters in confusion.
"Your back, dear. It looks beautiful, a real piece of art if I dare say so. I'm sure the archon will be thrilled."
Jian's mind is clearing as panic rises in her. "What did you do to it?" She tries to sit up, finds her arms too weak, and slides back down into a prone position.
The sister laughs, still more to herself than Jian. "Just elaborated on your naked canvas, dear. Would you like to see?"
Still a bit disoriented, Jian accepts the offered hand to guide her out of her bed and across the room to a mirror.
Her body is dotted with bruises and cuts, including a particularly livid mark on her left shoulder, and bandages are scattered about her arms and legs. What catches her attention, however, are a pair of tiny silver rings at her chest, each adorned with a green gemstone. Pierced straight through her nipples with a fine chain connecting them. Jian feels her face heat.
It takes most of her remaining willpower to twist around to view her back, but curiosity wins over fear and she manages to get a look. Here, too, she has been 'decorated', a large tattoo in the shape of a rose. A white rose, detailed enough to almost look real. It's incredibly well done, even if the sight of it makes her feel ill. "What in Morai-heg's name is this?"
"A tattoo, dear, surely you have those in the dull and lifeless places you call craftworlds. It's magnificent, isn't it?"
"You put it on me?" A foolish question, but she's still trying to make sense of it. Intelligent thoughts will come later.
"Of course. You belong to the kabal, after all, shouldn't your body reflect that? And I'm sure the archon will get plenty of use out of these." She reaches over to tug on the chain connecting the piercings, causing Jian to wince.
"It's very well done," she replies vaguely. In a way, the pain is a blessing. If she can keep her mind on that, she can avoid thinking about any of the real problems bearing down on her.
Something changes in the atmosphere, and it takes her a moment to realize that the voices outside have stopped. The only sound is the faint background noise of the room and the movements of the lhamean next to her as she shifts her position to continue crowing over her work. Jian ignores her and searches for a robe or something else to cover herself with. She can't be walking back to her room naked, after all. Much as this woman might want her to.
The door opens and Lynx strides in, heading straight for Jian's side. "Come on, let's get you home," she says quietly, wrapping a robe around Jian's shoulders.
Jian looks up. Something is wrong. Lynx's expression and voice are stiff. Her lipstick, usually as immaculate as the rest of her appearance, is smudged and her lip bleeds a bit. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing, dear." Lynx smiles, although the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Do you want to go to your place, or mine?"
Although Jian has become far more comfortable with her own public nudity in the last few months, the urge to cover up the latest symbols of her enslavement is overpowering. She wraps the robe tightly around herself and relishes the sting as it presses against the wounds. "Mine, please?" Surprising even herself, her eyes are completely dry.
"Very well." Lynx takes her hand and leads her from the room. "Would you like some company?"
"No, I think I just want to be alone."
"Of course. Let me just make sure you get back safe," Lynx replies with a glance behind her.
"This shouldn't upset me this much."
Lynx shakes her head. "Trust me, I was livid when I found out. And that's nothing compared to what will happen when Valthiel is informed…"
"You mean he didn't ask for this?" It hadn't sounded like it. But there is some small comfort in knowing that it wasn't by his request.
"No, and I'm sure he'll have words with Miarya when he gets back."
"Please don't tell him how upset I am." By his orders or not, if he gets the inkling that she's less than thrilled with being his, it will only bring more trouble.
"He'll be able to tell, though."
"I'm sure I'll be better by the time he returns." She'll have to be. "I'm tired of being pitied."
For a moment, Jian thinks Lynx will say no. But she sighs and nods. "Fine, I won't tell him."
"Thank you." Jian hugs her. It hurts. Everything hurts.
Lynx flinches slightly before hugging back. "There, there, sweetie. I'm here to help you."
"Are sure you're alright?"
"Yeah. Just had a… disagreement… with the grand matron." Forcing a stiff smile, Lynx breaks the embrace and continues walking.
"Disagreement?" Jian realizes with a sinking feeling that she already knows what Lynx will say.
"I decided to voice my displeasure with what happened to you. She thought I was out of bounds and was ready to go to considerable lengths to make me realize the error of my ways."
"I'm sorry you had to go to such trouble on my behalf" She was right. Just another thing that's her fault. "Do you want to come have a drink with me?"
"I would love to. But I thought you wanted to be alone for the rest of the afternoon?"
"I don't want you to feel like I didn't appreciate it, though. I'm not that much of an ungrateful bitch," Jian replies with a cynical smile.
"Nah, you're just my kind of bitch." Lynx replies with equal wryness as she rests a hand on Jian's shoulder. "Everything will be fine, dear."
Jian sighs, wishing she could believe her.
The rest of their walk is spent in silence, Jian too tired and heartsick to carry on a conversation and Lynx seemingly content with unspeaking companionship. She hovers in the doorway as Jian enters the bedroom that has begun to feel something like home, watching as she washes her face and hands and sets herself down on the bed with a deep exhalation.
"I'm fine, Lynx, really. I'll see you tomorrow." Jian waves and is gratified when Lynx actually leaves.
As soon as the door shuts, despair crashes back over her. Everything is falling apart, and she has no idea how to fix any of it. And can she really in good conscience try? What kind of pathetic excuse for an aeldari is she, dancing around on a leash for the amusement of an archon? But the alternative to domestication is to serve as a reservoir of pain and suffering, or worse. No matter how much she hates herself for it, she can't accept that fate either.
Perhaps she should just give in. Become the woman the city is trying to mold her into. Jian, who worships at the archon's feet and at his phallus and takes pleasure in the suffering of others as the only release from her own powerlessness. Just like everyone else here. At least she wouldn't have to think anymore.
Shaking herself from her melancholy, Jian stands up. She needs to do something to distract herself before she gives into the siren song. Something to eat will help, and she requests her dinner. A pad of drawing paper catches her eye and she curls up in the armchair to do a bit of practice. Lit by a single light in the dimness of the room, she tries to lose herself in the flow of the lines and the soft scratches of her pen on the paper.
Yet the image of Reena keeps filling her mind. Memories of their nights together, their naked bodies entwined in passion and affection. What would she say if she could see what Jian looks like now? Drukhari tattoos don't go away, she's been here long enough to know that. Even if her entire back was flayed and new skin grafted on, it would still heal with a perfect ashen rose. If by some miracle, she returned to Yme-loc now, would Reena still desire her?
An angry splash of ink destroys the abstract patterns she was creating. Jian balls up the paper in disgust and throws it to the floor. The blank white of the sheet below it taunts her to create something else.
She's being ridiculous. Of course Reena would still love her. So would her father. They would be so grateful to have her back that it wouldn't matter what she looked like.
For the first time that evening, tears prick her eyes. She's never going to be able to speak to them again. She didn't get to say a proper goodbye, or tell them how much she loved them. Unbidden, her fingers start to move again, covering the paper with runes. She pours out the story of what's happened to her, sparing no details. But her account has barely reached the last, horrific trip to the bridge when she gives up. This will bring them no comfort or peace.
Jian starts again, this time painting a portrait of her life now. It's perhaps overly flattering and leaves out the dark places her mind lingers when she lets it, but at least it would be reassuring.
Again, the paper hits the floor in a crumpled ball. However much her pain would horrify them, this isn't a letter from the Jian they know. These are the words of a woman who has accepted her place and allied herself with their enemies. It would be worse than the first.
Half a dozen more attempts join the first two as she tries endless approaches before discarding each. Her food has long since arrived and been consumed, along with a bottle of wine. The latter, at least, takes some of the edge off all of her emotions, making them just a bit more manageable.
She calls for more.
While she waits for the wine to arrive, she gathers the results of her afternoon's work into a pile of ruined paper and puts away the rest of the art supplies in the lacquered box they arrived in. Her stomach is starting to rebel at having food while she's in this state. She walks into the washroom and slides her fingers down her throat. A few minutes later, she feels better. Or at least less nauseated.
The rest of the wine has arrived by the time she returns to the bedroom. Grabbing the first bottle she can get her hands on, she drinks directly from it, barely tasting what is probably an excellent vintage as she swallows gulps.
Writing letters was a stupid idea. The archon will never let her send them. Even if he does, he probably doesn't have a way to get them there. And even if he does, she's not about to give him enough information to hurt the people she cares about the most. Just the thought of Reena in the hands of the drukhari is enough to make her feel sick again.
Back in the bathroom, she tears each paper into miniscule shreds and soaks it in water, adding more and more until the thin sludge washes down the sink. Gone. All gone now.
She needs a bath. It won't wash anything away, but bubbles are nice. The second bottle of wine is done by the time the tub fills, and she climbs in. Hot enough to hurt, but it lets her forget about her back, which lets her forget about the archon and what he'll do to her when he returns. What he has done to her. What she'll let him do to her to keep his attention. What she wants him to do to her.
Jian stays in the bath until the water is cold, staring blankly at the ceiling and trying desperately not to feel. When she finally crawls from the tub and into bed, all the bottles are empty and the room swims in front of her. The pain is gone, but the nothing in its place is almost as bad.
She wakes with a power sword ramming into her skull. How could I have been so stupid? She can't even remember the last time she was this hung over. She climbs out of bed with a groan. Unlike the rest of the injuries that dot her body, this pain does nothing to distract from her troubles.
The blankets on her bed blur and the room spins. Jian finds herself on her hands and knees, fighting back her urge to vomit. Slowly, painfully, she crawls her way towards the bathroom.
Lying on the cold tiles calms her somewhat. It cools the heat in her body and grounds and centers her. After a few minutes, she drags herself upright. The room spins again, but she manages to keep her grip on the edge of the sink long enough to vomit up what little is left in her stomach. Then, not trusting herself with a glass, she drinks as much water as she can from the sink. The rest splashes on her face, loosening the crusts around her eyes and soothing the pounding if only for a moment.
She should probably cancel her sparring session today. There's no way she can fight well like this. But that will mean being conscious all morning, left to think about everything she's done and everything that's been done to her. Besides, it's not as though she can normally last longer than a few seconds. She doubts her condition will make much difference.
So she lowers herself back to the floor and returns to the bedroom at a crawl. It's a bit easier this time, with fewer points where she has to stop and wait for waves of dizziness to pass. Over the next hour, she cleans up the empty bottles and other detritus of last night, make her bed, and dress herself in her armor.
Her head still hurts when the time comes to go downstairs, but the nausea is almost gone and she can walk without stumbling, at least.
Lord Vrash and the rest of his men are waiting for her when she gets there. No matter how early she comes, she's never managed to avoid being the last to arrive. They must practically live in here. As always, they are dressed in their armor and klaives with helmets covering their faces, although she knows them well enough now to distinguish by body type.
As always, Jian bows upon entering the practice area, although it brings back the sick feeling and the dizziness and it takes considerable effort not to shake as she straightens herself.
Lord Vrash steps forward. "Your form is inadequate and poorly balanced. You are in no condition to fight. If you ever were. Go home."
Go home? She would like nothing more. But that will never happen now. "Why do you care?" she snaps. "Am I less entertaining this way?"
"That would imply you were entertaining to begin with. Go back to your master, you are a disgrace to your armor and your blade. Don't come back until you're ready to use them properly."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Jian says quietly.
"Go home and come back when you are ready to fully commit to the way of the blade, little girl." He sounds annoyed at having to repeat himself.
She can't leave now. Can't have yet another failure piled onto her stack of humiliations. "No. Let me fight."
He snorts and mutters a string of curses under his breath as he walks away, toward the edge of the training ring. There, he gestures to his men. All six of them draw their swords and approach Jian, surrounding her in a ring of spiked armor and glaring helmets.
This was a bad idea. But backing down would have been even worse. Her self-respect is long gone, but at least she hasn't given up on herself completely yet. She draws her sword and gets ready to move.
Lord Vrash's voice rings out, almost casual. "Begin."
Immediately, she feels some slight movement behind her that signals a blow from her rear. Someone will hit her from the direction she now faces as soon as she turns to block it, but what choice does she have? She ducks and pivots, trying to stay out of the way of the blade while keeping in constant motion to deter follow-up strikes. They can't hit her if they can't predict her movements.
A rush of air blows past her head where the klaive misses her. But as she twists through the air, she runs straight into another incubus' armored kneecap. Jian can feel her nose give way under the impact and the spiked plate drags across the side of her face as she rebounds. Blood fills her awareness. Blood and pain.
Pain has lost some of its meaning over the last few months. She sucks in the breath that has suddenly left her and strikes out to the man she can feel approaching from her right. It slams into something solid. If she can just –
Two blades strike her back simultaneously, knocking her to the floor. No additional blows follow, but she can feel the painful tingle across her shoulders as the armor plate that protected them detaches and falls to the floor. They must have damaged it badly enough to render it useless. She lashes out again at whatever she hit the first time and tries to roll onto her back so she can see hits coming as she tries to get to her feet.
Although her blade connects again, her desperate thrust is overpowered and her grip falters. An armored glove closes around her wrist hard enough to make her drop the sword and drags her to her feet. The incubus – Bordrikis, she thinks – slams his armored helmet into her face. More blood flows down, obscuring her eyes.
Something slides between her legs, an armored hand holding something hard. An instant later, horrific burning pain blossoms from her groin, the bloodstone superheating every drop of water in her body. This has never been a pain she's learned to tolerate. She screams, cursing herself internally for her own weakness.
Bordrikis brings his knee up into her chest with a sickening crunch that she knows from repeated experience is ribs cracking. The knives… she still has the knives that came with her armor… In her flailing, she manages to grab the hilt of one and ram it into his armor.
Thank Khaine, the knife finds purchase, lodging itself into the gap between two armor plates. Jian can't be sure who they belong to, but she can feel the knife tearing through muscle and grating on bone. Whoever it is twists away, bellowing in surprise and rage and leaving her without a weapon again.
She's falling, slamming into the floor as Bordikis drops her. Through the constant, high-pitched whine in her ears, Jian can hear deep, mocking laughter. They're laughing at her. Lord Vrash is too. This is a joke to them.
Someone else rushes in. A boot connects with her stomach, sending her rolling across the training ring like a thrown doll. Another note added to the melody of pain, this one low and thrumming. The breath is gone from her lungs, but still she struggles on. To give up now would be a disgrace to her name and her shrine.
Somehow, she's back on her feet as the incubi approach. In the split second that she realizes she has nothing left with which to defend herself, another razor-sharp strike lances across her back. She falls to the ground and it rushes up to meet her as horror fills her entire being.
Her legs.
She can't feel her legs.
No… No, this can't be happening. She can't become even more helpless. A waste of space, sitting in a chair or bed all day, unable to even – the archon will –
If I can't feel him inside me, what use am I to him?
A tear slides down her cheek even as she scrambles backwards with her hands. She should just die here; it would be best for everyone.
But she doesn't want to. Not like this, at the hands of a pack of drukhari who even now are chuckling over her helplessness. The men raise their blades for a killing blow and she blinks, determined at least to not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break down.
"CEASE!"
The voice cuts through the room, stopping the incubi in their tracks. The archon's voice, she realizes, but not as she's heard it before. This is the voice with which he commands armies and orders death: forceful, cold, and completely devoid of mercy.
But… the archon isn't here? He's on his ship? Jian tries to look through the mass of blood and tears to see what's going on.
Is she dying?
The archon walks calmly across the practice arena, dressed in the same ceremonial armor he wore to the party weeks ago and a pair of curved sabers in his hands. To Jian's eyes, he seems almost to glow, not brightly, but with a paleness that chills her even from here.
She probably is dying. For some reason, that thought is less frightening that it was a moment ago.
Reaching the spot where she half-sits, half-lies, the archon kneels in front of her, pushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. His thumb lingers on the inside of her wrist as he searches her face. "You're alright," he says. "I'll be right back, just hang on." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which are still alight with bloodlust.
Jian watches as he leaves her side and walks over to Lord Vrash. The room is starting to spin, but adrenaline still provides her with enough residual strength to stay conscious for a little while longer. Although the two men talk, she can't make out their voices over the ringing in her ears. The archon seems angry, jabbing an accusing finger at Lord Vrash, then pointing at her. After a moment, Lord Vrash stiffens and takes a step back. His head turns towards his men, who have remained where they are, and he motions to them.
The archon steps away from the lord and instantly his men – his own bodyguards – surround him, swords raised.
By Isha, they're going to kill him too.
She reaches uselessly towards him, trying to tell him to go and leave her, there's no need for them both to die, but her mouth isn't working properly either. Her jaw might be broken. The incubi circle him slowly, edging closer and closer to their prey.
And then the archon disappears in a burst of blinding light. When the afterglow clears from Jian's vision, three of him stand in the center of the ring of warriors, each moving slightly out of sync with the others, merging and separating until she's not sure which one is the real archon and which are the duplicates. The miasma that fills her brain thickens and she has to turn away to push back the blackness at the edges of her vision.
A loud snap brings her attention rushing back as a spray of tiny fireballs bursts out from near the archon's feet. They fly at the incubi to his left, curving their way around to bury themselves in the shimmering dark armor and Jian is pleased to hear several of them cry out in pain.
The archon darts to his right, the illusory doubles still distracting from his exact position. One of his blades stabs into a drukhari's knee, then the other. The leg buckles and the archon takes a step back, only to close in again and shove his saber into the unprotected area under his opponent's arm. The man falls and the archon pivots and disappears again, this time into a roiling cloud of thick purple smoke. The air shimmers around him, containing the cloud and stopping the two incubi still on their feet from approaching him.
A few seconds later, the field disappears, just as a klaive comes hurtling from somewhere inside the smoke. It strikes a man in the chest and he stumbles, wounded. The archon flies behind it, stabbing his own weapons into the same man's chest. He falls.
The incubi who were hit with the fireballs are starting to recover themselves now, one getting to his knees and the other almost up. Jian tries to call a warning, but she can't be sure if the words make it out of her mind or not.
Still moving with astonishing speed, the archon turns to the final uninjured incubus. Although his strike is instantly blocked, his face breaks into a spiteful smile and something sprays from the handle of his sword. Steam rises from the incubus' helmet and Jian watches with mixed horror and triumph as it begins to melt into his flesh. To the man's credit, he doesn't scream, simply pressing a follow-up attack with a roar, but wounded and half blind, the attempt is doomed to failure. The archon sidesteps and allows him to stumble and fall, where he lies as the horrific smell of melting flesh reaches Jian.
The archon turns to the three incubi he hit with his first attack. One is on his feet now, another trying to reach them, while the third still lies on the floor, reaching for his sword but unable to rise. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tosses a handful of tiny knives into the air. The incubi collapse as the cluster of needle-like blades find exposed, burnt flesh and whatever toxins that coat them begin to work.
He's safe. Everything will be alright.
Jian crumples. Her arms are too tired to hold her weight anymore and the light and noise and the movement of the room pound into her brain, keeping her from regaining her balance. It will be good to rest now.
In the dim awareness she still has left, she watches the archon stalk over to Lord Vrash and say something to him, posture still tense. If the hierarch responds, neither man reacts physically. Jian closes her eyes.
Gently, ever so gently, a set of arms scoops her up. "It's alright, Jian." The archon's voice. "You're safe, I've got you now…" Her legs feel like blocks of wood attached to her body as he cradles her. She blubbers out apologies and reassurances, trying her best to thank him and promise she'll be alright and he doesn't need to worry, but he shushes her with a kiss on the forehead. "It's alright, we'll talk later. Just rest now."
Jian drags her eyes open and tries to look into his face, but everything is a blurred mass of color. She reaches up – for what, exactly, she's not sure – but doesn't make it to her destination. Her hand falls limp and she passes out.
Another darkness. Another pain. Another awakening in a strange bed with ringing in her ears and an ache in every part of her body.
Forcing herself to open her eyes, she finds herself in a strange room. It's not part of the lhamean temple, of that she's certain, but it looks similar. Deep grey walls, a soft bed, cabinets and a workbench on the other side of the space. Her armor is gone and in its place, she wears a loose grey tunic and baggy pants. A blanket covers her.
"Good morning," says the archon. "You've been out of it for quite a while."
Jian turns her head to see him sitting in a chair near her bed. He looks unhappy. And why shouldn't he be? Her actions have caused him considerable trouble and deprived him of his bodyguards, maybe permanently, in addition to making her unfit for his use. "How long?" she asks.
"Two days." He crosses his arms over his chest. He looks terrible. Skin ashen and dry with dark rings around his eyes, hair more grey than silver.
She closes her eyes and inhales. Her legs, she notices, have feeling in them again, even if she doesn't think she could move them more than a few centimeters. "You fought them all… are you alright?"
"I am."
"I'm sorry you had to do that." It's likely too late to fix this, but she has to try.
"What choice did I have?" His voice remains calm, but she can feel the anger in it as he grips the arms of his chair. "You actively try to destroy yourself and you want me to simply sit by?"
"I'm sorry…" Jian whispers.
The archon doesn't seem to be listening. He springs from his chair and stalks towards the door, but stops before he reaches it. She watches as he remains, facing away from her. His fists clench and unclench.
When he turns back, his face is wet with tears. Jian shrinks back, unsure of what this means, as he begins to speak. "I – I don't know what to do with you. No matter how hard I try to make you happy here, you just keep getting worse… I love you, but that clearly isn't enough…"
I love you. He said it once before, months ago, but she's long since realized that it was not meant for her ears. A dream or a fantasy, something he didn't realize was spoken aloud in a half-asleep daze. But now he's awake, looking directly at her as he says the words.
Is she still dying?
The archon sits back in his chair, wiping away the tears even as more fill his eyes. "Is death what you want? Do you want me to find you a place with our kabalite troopers, or in one of the wytch cults to seek your end in glorious battle? Please, I'm at my wits' end…"
It feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Jian tries to formulate an answer, but his words still echo in her ears. I love you. The room blurs with tears of her own. "I've just been trying to make you happy. I didn't want you to worry about me. I –" It feels inadequate to explain, to make up for it. She has no doubt that he's a master of deception, but his sadness is genuine, she's certain.
"You what?"
"Do you mean it?"
The archon nods.
The tears that fill her eyes spill over and she cries, waves of pain shooting through her as sobs shake her still-broken body. It's the last thing she expected to hear again. Even with all the care he has given her, the idea that she might mean more to someone, to anyone has been so far from her mind… Someone loves her. Not someone distant and unreachable, but a man who sits in the room with her right now.
But at the same time, the revelation is like cold iron weighing in the pit of her stomach. This is no ordinary man, but a high-ranking drukhari noble. If he can find it in himself to love her… what does that say about how far she's fallen?
All this passes through her mind in an instant as astonishment lets her give voice to one of her deepest fears. "You mean you're not disappointed with me? I still please you?"
His face falls even further as he stands from his chair. Climbing into the bed beside her, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace where she can feel his ragged breaths in his chest and exhaled onto her cheeks. "Sweetheart… I'm not disappointed or sorry I bought you. I couldn't be. And I would do anything to make you happier here."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you… I thought you would make me stop and I didn't want to."
"Why not?"
"Because the pain makes it stop hurting." Why is she speaking so freely? Things she's meant to keep locked inside keep coming out of her mouth without her meaning to. Maybe the injuries to her head have loosened her tongue.
The archon caresses her hair as he speaks. "Makes what stop hurting?"
Everything. The way it felt when you took me the first time. The way I let you. Everyone I'll never see again and the way so many of them are suffering at the hands of your own kin. That I am a slave who bears your marks and depends her entire being on your whims. How your love changes none of this, and yet I still desire it. "My mother, I – she followed the Path of the Mariner. Naval captain. She was never home long, I never got to spend enough time with her." As Jian speaks, she once again finds the words falling out unbidden.
"My shrine was supposed to guard her vessel and I was so happy, we could see each other. But then the raiders attacked." She talks faster now, tripping over herself in her desperation to get the whole story out. "They killed her. They killed her and they made me watch. She kept screaming and screaming and then they took her soul and did something with it, and I thought her ashes would never come off, and they just made it a joke."
The archon's arms have tightened around her as she speaks, and now he lowers his head to encircle her with his body even further. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't know. I suspected, but…"
"I couldn't get her off the bridge fast enough. It was my fault. I should have been faster. And then on the ship they kept touching me over and over and I prayed for death and it never came. And then you found me and –" she cuts herself off with a final statement. "I told Reena it was probably nothing. She'll be waiting for me to come home forever."
"I –" The archon takes another shuddering breath before falling quiet. It's full minutes before he speaks again and his voice is choked. "I am so sorry…"
She should comfort him. Wipe the tears from his eyes and reassure him that she's just fine and this is all in the past now. But she's sunk too far into the black hole of her own grief to be able to move any further or to form any words but those that are on her heart. "When it hurts, I don't have to remember."
"I understand. But what you're doing, it's going to kill you. And I can't condone that." He sighs. "I won't make you stop if you don't want to. But I would rather help you find something different."
"I don't want to feel like this. I want to be happy again. But…" But what does happiness even look like for her here now?
"But what?"
"Verynia would hate me for this."
"Who is that?"
"My exarch, the head of our shrine and the woman who trained me. She would say I'm betraying my home and everyone I cared about there. She's dead now, she wasn't like me, she would have fought. But now I have to keep her spirit alive because there's no one else to do it."
"Why would your being happy make her hate you?" the archon asks carefully.
Again, Jian speaks without thinking. Each time is easier, each truth breaking down the walls for the next one. "If I was happy here, in Commorragh? It would mean I was –" she takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself mentally. "It would mean I had given up on my home. And that I was ready to kill them or take them as slaves if I had to."
Another long silence stretches out with the archon's hand moving soothingly along her back. Despite everything, Jian finds herself feeling a sense of relief. No longer does what she's said lie secret in the dark of her soul. Even if he can do nothing to change it and so much remains hidden inside, she still feels lighter.
When the archon speaks again, there's a change in his voice. Still gentle and reassuring, but with a slight edge to it of… not anger. Resolve, perhaps. "Jian, look at me." She does. "I will never, ever, no matter the situation, ask you to raise a hand against your own people. I give you my word."
"I would rather die."
"I know." Drawing her back into his embrace, he sighs again. "I want to do whatever is in my power to let you live here happily with me. I don't know how to do that, but if you're willing to work with me, I'm sure we can arrange something, right?"
"I'm sure we can. I really am sorry about all of this." This, she's certain, is the right thing to say now.
"As long as we learned something and can try to do better in the future."
"I promise." Jian laughs, and can hear the edge of hysteria in her voice. "You love me… I had no idea…"
"Well, now you do. And I promise, I'll find you another sparring partner if you want to keep going, one who will actually teach you."
"Thank you." Now that the wave of emotion has started to slow, everything hurts again and she's so, so tired.
"And you do know that you only have to join me in my chambers when you want to, right? You never tell me no, but I want you to feel free to do so."
Jian nods into his chest. She's been too afraid of his waning interest in her to risk it, but maybe she will now. Sometimes, at least. She isn't under the illusion that she has suddenly become a free woman.
"Is there anything else you want to talk about or tell me?"
"Will you take me with you on the raid?" The thought of being alone here for weeks or months is worse than the fear of what she might witness or do.
"Of course."
"I really can fight, I promise…"
"I know you can. And I'll make sure you're properly equipped and armored to do so."
They lapse into silence and Jian can feel his breathing steady as he calms. Her body longs to sleep, but she's not sure if she should. The ghosts of those she's lost will surely plague her as soon as she does.
"It's alright, Jian," the archon whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."
She closes her eyes.
The broken girl rests haunted by failures real and perceived as she tries to make sense of the revelation given to her and what it means for her past and future. As the hours pass, the wounds of her body begin to heal, but not those of her mind.
In the small bed, the man who is her salvation and damnation lies twined around her, reassured by her heartbeat against his chest. Sleep eludes him as he watches her, tormented by the knowledge that the woman he loves must surely hate him almost as much as she hates the city in which he keeps her.
For those of you worried that the archon is too "soft" or wondering how he's capable of loving someone as a deldar, that will be (somewhat) addressed in a few chapters and dealt with further later on.
As always, I welcome feedback and concrit, so let me know what you think!