A/N:
Honestly, at this point, I should probably abandon any pretense of having a regular update schedule. Between work and trying to plan an overseas move, my time to write is fairly slim.
Rest assured, however, I am still working on this story and I still plan to finish it. I have a detailed outline/scratch draft through the end of c15 and a rougher outline of the rest of the fic, so it's just a matter of getting there.
As always, thanks to Ashilaa_A03, my fiancee, and my roommate for the help, and feedback, comments, and concrit are always welcome!
True to his word, the archon is still in Jian's hospital bed the next morning, dozing with her in his arms. The slight movement of her awakening startles him to alertness and for a few minutes they simply sit quietly, Jian allowing herself to enjoy just a bit of affection as they cuddle. It feels nice to be cared for without feeling the need to make immediate repayment. Even if she should think about ways to prove to him that his emotions aren't a mistake before long.
All too soon, however, he eases her back onto the mattress and climbs from the bed. "Do you think you could eat a bit?"
Jian shakes her head. Whatever damage her abdomen took, she can tell it's not all healed yet, at least not enough to let her eat without pain.
"Alright," he replies, placing a hand on her forehead. "I have a few things I need to see to this morning. Will you be alright by yourself while I go? Or do you want me to bring my work back here?"
"No, go ahead. I'll be fine." It will be good to not have to put on a strong face for a little while.
He leaves, and Jian settles back onto her pillows to stare up at the ceiling and focus on recovery. She breathes slowly, keeping the pain contained but not suppressing it entirely. Her mind floats, calmer now than she has been in months, letting herself simply relax and not worry about her future for the first time in nearly as long. Pain, she has learned since she arrived, is clarifying and purifying. Even once she finishes healing, she doubts she'll be short on experiences that give her the same feeling for long. Idly, she wonders who the archon plans to enlist as a replacement for Lord Vrash and his incubi in her sword training.
A knock on the door startles her from her thoughts. She freezes, unsure if this is the archon returning from his business or someone else come to finish her off while she's helpless. Or worse. This is Commorragh, after all, and she's certain she has more than a few enemies simply by reason of existing.
It seems as though her acknowledgement is irrelevant, however. The door opens and a man walks into the room.
At first, she doesn't recognize him. He's tall, much taller than the archon, and solid muscle, with long black hair pulled into a messy tail. Like nearly everyone else she's met in Commorragh, his skin is nearly without color and the humorless line of his mouth is echoed in his dark eyes.
This must be Lord Vrash, Jian realizes. Even outside of the armor, he has the same bearing. She presses back into her bed, fear gripping her, before she forces herself to relax. He is almost certainly not here to kill her. And even if he were, she would face her death like a warrior, not a cringing slave. "What do you want?" she asks.
He lowers his head in a nod that she realizes actually contains some level of respect as he walks to her bedside. "I came to look in on your recovery, as it has come to my attention that you feel you were unfairly treated. And considering how our last session went, I felt it appropriate to audit my behavior as a teacher." He looks her over clinically. Jian finds her eyes drawn to his chest, left bare by the loose, pleated pants and open-front robe he wears. Innumerable scars crisscross the skin, some merely thin lines, others jagged, twisted ridges that must have come from horrific injuries.
Inspection finished, he looks back at her, maintaining full eye contact as he speaks. "After careful consideration and introspection, I have decided that my approach to your tutelage was far from ideal." He stops and Jian almost thinks he's finished before he finally speaks again. "And for that I am sorry."
Jian blinks. What.
"I accept your apology," she replies frostily. He is not sorry he did it, she's almost certain, merely for the fact that it has annoyed the archon.
He nods again. "And for that I am grateful. It may be cold comfort, but I do wish to make it clear that you were never in any danger of dying. You are a member of this kabal and of Lord Aire's court, and thus under my protection. Killing you would violate my duties, not to mention be incredibly wasteful."
Jian frowns. She doesn't believe him, but decides not to start an argument. "Was there anything else you wanted to say?"
"I am not a physician, so I cannot give you anything for the pain, as I have never needed it myself. But I hope this will help you nonetheless." He places a large ball, perhaps two of her handspans in diameter and made of polished metal, in her lap, then turns to leave without another word.
After he's gone, Jian examines the object. It's much lighter than it looks, and she can tell as she picks it up that it's hollow inside. A container for something rather than an object in itself. She hesitates for a moment before opening it, wondering if she should be wary of some kind of a trick.
Curiosity wins out, however, and she presses down the latch and swings the top off. A soft whirring sound comes from inside as she does, and Jian finds herself staring at a miniature replica of Yme-loc, held above her lap by some kind of antigrav technology. She watches tiny ships dart in and out of the domes and quickly finds herself lost in examining the fine details of the piece, which is excellently made. Not, she thinks, by one who has devoted their life and path to such things, but a skilled amateur at least. She can find the dome where she had lived with her parents, the one that had housed the Shrine of the Ever-thirsting Blade, the faint glimmer of the pink-sanded beach that she and Reena had spent hours walking along and the white expanse of the Crystal Snow Plains where she had gone when she needed to be alone. This is beautiful.
Running her fingers along the edge of the model, she stops as she encounters an imperfection. Some kind of scratches in the paint, perhaps? No, an artist's mark. Bealfor Vrash.
The revelation is both surprising and completely expected – if she were to present some sort of item as the peace offering this was clearly meant to be, she would prefer to use one she had created herself. Perhaps the part that is strangest to her is that he has some interest outside of fighting and killing.
Despite her dislike for the giver, Jian finds her heart warmed with painful nostalgia at the gift. It makes home feel much further away, but the familiar lines help her to hold on to memories she has feared will disappear without anything to remind her.
She lies down to rest again, watching the model craftworld through half-closed eyes.
Jian makes her way down the hallway to one of the numerous training rooms that the archon's flagship boasts. The Ashen Rose, he tells her, is not primarily a raiding or military kabal, and thus their naval capacity is limited to the Death's Grace and its accompanying tenders. They've been underway for a week now, and Jian has finally recovered to the point where she feels ready to attempt another lesson. In this time, she's seen surprisingly little of the archon. Although he makes a point of checking on her every day, he seems to have even more demands on his time than he did in Commorragh, and his visits are often brief.
Leaving her with little information about the woman who will be taking over her instruction in the arts of war. All the archon has said is that she is of craftworld origin, is nearly as skilled as Bealfor, and not to worry, as she stays with the kabal and teaches Jian of her own free will. The last statement in particular concerns Jian as she stops outside the door to the practice room that has been designated for her use on this journey.
The door slides open at her touch and familiarity washes over her. The styling of the room isn't perfectly familiar, but she recognizes what it's meant to emulate immediately. This is a miniature aspect shrine, a microcosm of one of Khaine's temples.
On the opposite side of the room sits a woman, cross-legged on the floor behind a low table. She looks up from her book as Jian enters. "Greetings and well met," the woman says. "You must be Jian, of House Levrain, my recently appointed student?"
"I am," Jian replies with a formal, respectful bow. The kind of gesture she would have used when meeting someone important on Yme-loc.
"Is something the matter?" The woman asks. "You look surprised."
She'd thought she was better at hiding her emotions after all this time. "I just did not expect to be reminded so strongly of – of my craftworld." She successfully keeps herself from referring to it as 'home'. Commorragh is her home now.
"Ah. That's easily explained, then. But first, why don't you go change into something more comfortable? I don't think you'll need your armor today, and I have a spare tunic that should fit you." She gestures to a folding screen in the corner and Jian hastens to obey.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" the woman calls as Jian removes her armor.
"Yes, of course." Reemerging, she seats herself at the table and eyes the woman critically while she waits. She's tall and buxom – likely a good twenty centimeters taller than Jian – with a powerful build and blonde hair tied in a soft knot at the nape of her neck. Like Jian, she wears a long tunic, split up the legs to allow for easy movement, with leggings and armored boots.
"To answer your question," the woman says as she sits across from Jian. "I grew up among our craftworld kin as well. And even if it's somewhat unavoidable that Commorragh is my home these days, I saw no reason that I had to fully leave my past behind." She hands Jian a cup of tea.
"May I ask your name?" The rich, herbal steam fills her nostrils as she takes an experimental sip. Hot, but not quite hot enough to burn.
"Of course. My name is Ayslinn Vrash, the wife of Hierarch Bealfor Vrash. I understand he was your previous instructor, although I have been informed that he did not do the title justice."
Lord Vrash's… wife? He's married? Isha's tits, what must the man be like as a husband? And given that the woman in front of her is a craftworlder herself… "I'm sorry," she blurts out before she can stop herself.
"I beg your pardon?"
Jian feels herself blush. This isn't a subject to be mentioned in polite company. She certainly would not like her own position discussed in such a manner. "I didn't know he was married, I – " She stumbles, searching for a way to extricate herself from the situation.
Ayslinn smirks. "Let us hope your sword is quicker than your tongue." Her face grows more serious. "I understand what you mean, though. He is a disciplined man who goes to great lengths to keep his public and private personas separate. I will not pretend that our relationship has been simple, but trust me when I say there are nuances. Not to mention a few interesting secrets about him on the rare occasions he is out of his armor." The last is said with a sly smile.
Jian's blush deepens. "I will take your word for it. I suppose I'm in no place to judge." Despite the pain that her relationship with the archon brings her, it is certainly a far cry from what any craftworlder would envision were she to describe the facts of the situation.
"Another very accurate statement." Ayslinn sips her own tea. "Now that introductions are out of the way, let's start with the fundamentals: why did you request these lessons to begin with? What do you wish to accomplish with them?"
"At first, I just wanted something to do besides sitting in my room and waiting on the archon. And now…" She can't bring herself to say that even when the incubi are beating her into the ground, it's the only time she doesn't feel completely powerless. "It lets me relieve stress and exercise my body, and gives me something to focus on mastering and a way to protect myself against the dangers of the dark city."
Jian thinks it sounds convincing, but Ayslinn frowns. "So, you wish me to give you a way to pass the time and teach you self-defense against the street ruffians of Commorragh?"
"No, no! It's more that –" Jian struggles to figure out what she does mean. "I want something I don't have to rely on others for."
"Meaning?"
She looks down at her lap and the cup of pale hazel tea that rests there. Answering the question is more than just words. It forces Jian to push into herself, to look at the reality of what she is and what has happened to her. Is she still the same person she was when she arrived in the city? When she left Yme-loc? Moreover, it forces her to speak these things and bring them into her being.
But there's no point in hiding. Anyone with eyes can guess most of what she will say. "I once walked the Path of the Warrior. I defended the civilians of my craftworld and they supported me and my sisters. But now I depend on the archon for everything I have. Even the one talent I thought I had is useless against the kinds of people I spend my time around now. I want to be able to protect myself even a little bit. To not feel totally useless." Her voice catches on the last sentence.
Ayslinn reaches across the table to take her hand. "You want to reaffirm that you are still a warrior at heart?"
"And to continue down that path, not simply stagnate and become nothing more than a… decoration."
"Very well, I can certainly help you with that. You were a Howling Banshee, yes? What was it that called you to that aspect of Khaine specifically?"
"My reasons were rather mundane, really. I wanted to strike at my foes with something in my hand, not merely shoot from a distance and hope my aim was true. I admired their mobility and grace and knew that I lacked the physical strength for an aspect more focused on direct force." It sounds so trite now. She's been a child, with a child's logic.
Again, Ayslinn nods. "I think I have enough to move forward, then. Are you familiar with the range of drukhari close-combat weapons?"
"Not in detail."
"Well, given your status, I think we can disregard venom blades. They are usually issued to trueborn nobility only, and someone of your status wielding one would send the wrong message, no matter how much Lord Aire favors you. Similarly, a klaivex, punisher, or Shaimeshi blade is off the table as you do not belong to one of the appropriate orders to receive one. That leaves us with many options, however."
Sipping her tea, she continues. "Which is why I want to go back to the beginning, here. To seek the real you in your soul and mind and find the perfect way to express your connection to Khaine. That's what my husband never seemed to understand; he viewed you as simply another incubi recruit, and if you failed, the fault lay with you and not with his order's training methods. But I do not think that it will benefit either of us to make you as much of a Banshee as you can be, either. It would never be quite the same. And I doubt you are the same aeldari who made the choice to become one, either?"
"I am not," Jian replies with another pang.
Ayslinn places her hand over Jian's. "Different does not necessarily mean worse, though."
Fighting her urge to remind her that it doesn't mean better, either, Jian nods and smiles. "Thank you. Did you have other questions for me?"
"Not at the moment. I believe a set of vambrace blades would be a natural fit to your speed and the bloodthirsty nature of your previous aspect. Is that acceptable? I'm certain that Lord Aire would have a set custom fitted to you."
Jian takes the weapon that Ayslinn hands her and examines it, trying to envision how it would look on her arm, how it would move. "I think this could work."
"Excellent. Then we will begin." Standing, the other woman gestures for Jian to follow her to the practice floor.
The rest of the afternoon is spent in slow, careful practice, returning to the earliest foundations of swordcraft. Ayslinn guides her through a series of stances and breathing exercises and despite the gentleness compared to her husband, Jian still finds herself drenched in sweat. Although there are similarities to the beginnings of her training with Verynia at the Shrine of the Ever-Thirsting Blade, the subtleties of the postures and rhythms forces her to pay close attention throughout the entire session.
When they've finished, Jian hurries to change back into her armor, but Ayslinn shakes her head in dismissal. "Keep the outfit; I have several, and you can wear it the next time we meet."
"Thank you," Jian replies, bowing her head. She hesitates before asking the question that's been growing on her mind since she met the other woman. "If it's not too intrusive… which aspect did you follow?"
"I was a Striking Scorpion, of the Shrine of the Fatal Sting on Biel'tan. Like you, I found myself in the dark city after being on the wrong end of a drukhari raid, albeit in somewhat different circumstances."
If Jian had been forced to guess, she would have been correct. Although she'd never been close to anyone of the aspect, the Scorpions had been in a bit of an unspoken rivalry with the Banshees. At least according to Verynia. The exarch had gone on to explain that the aspect was dour and gloomy and viewed the Banshees ways of relating to Khaine as mania and a refusal to take the defense of their craftworlds seriously enough.
But none of that mattered now. "I truly am sorry. I was on Biel'tan shortly before I came here; it is a beautiful place."
For the first time, a flicker of sadness shows on Ayslinn's face. "I would very much like to hear about it someday."
"I wasn't there long, but I will tell you what I remember."
"But for the moment, I have other things to attend to; you likely do as well."
"I do indeed."
After saying her goodbyes, Jian is left with the choice of where to go now. Her first thought is of the small cabin the archon has set up for her adjacent to his own. The exercises have worn her out and some of her wounds are starting to hurt again. But she still has some energy left, so she should pay him a visit. She needs to start trying to prove to him that his love is worth the time, that whatever he's seen in her is still present.
As always, she knocks before entering. The archon's voice invites her in and she enters to find him sitting across a small table from Derfahn, deep in a card game. Piles of coins and bits of jewelry are stacked on the table, although she can't help noticing that the archon's horde is much larger. He waves her to his side.
Taking a seat on the arm of his chair, Jian wraps her arm around his shoulder and leans in to watch the game. She's not familiar with the rules, but it seems to involve a lot of bluffing and rapidly changing bet pools. The two men trade sharp-edged banter between what seems to be the tail end of a discussion about the Kabal of the Flayed Skull's raiding strategies and how that relates to Derfahn's mission to keep tabs on them during the upcoming raid.
After only a few minutes, however, the archon lays down his cards at the end of a hand and waves his hand in dismissal. "It seems as though I've put you into your place well enough for now; we can continue next time."
Derfahn stands with a nod, sweeping his winnings into a small bag. "Of course, my lord. I'm sure soon enough I'll learn to read you properly and then you won't be quite so eager to try parting me from my pay."
"Whatever keeps you trying," the archon replies with a laugh. His attention turns to Jian. "How was your lesson, dear?"
"It was wonderful, thank you. I like her very much." This happiness, at least, is genuine. "But you don't have to stop on my account. I can wait."
"You shouldn't have to, though."
His arm wraps around her waist and she slides into his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder. Perhaps she should have returned to her room first. She probably stinks of sweat and the outfit Ayslinn gave her isn't particularly flattering. "So what am I no longer waiting for?" she teases.
"My attention, of course," he replies in the same tone.
That seems clear enough. She reaches up and runs her fingers along his jawline, willing herself into the right mindset. Out here, away from the horrific psychic background noise of Commorragh, she is reminded more acutely that the archon hasn't yet cut himself off from his warp presence entirely. Jian is no seer, and she's fairly certain he isn't either, but his mind resonates off hers in a way that she hasn't experienced since she left her mother's ship. Although she can't glean nearly as much from the contact as she would from another asuryani, so closed-off is he, she can often pick up his most surface moods and inclinations. He's enjoying this very much. She stretches up to kiss him.
He responds in kind, pulling her closer into his embrace and the back of her head in his hands. His tongue presses against her lips and she opens her mouth to allow him deeper.
The signal is clear enough. Pulling her arms free, she loosens the sash of her robe and lets the fabric fall from her shoulders before reaching down to unfasten his pants.
Before she can, however, she feels his hand on her wrist, pulling her away. The kiss breaks. "You do know that you don't have to do that, right, Jian?"
"I know. But it's what you want, and I don't mind."
He shakes his head. "Not like this; not tonight. Put your clothes back on and we'll do something that you want to do."
Drawing in a shaky breath, Jian stands to straighten her clothing. Again, the archon stops her. "Wait – what's that on your back?"
"It's nothing," she replies reflexively. There's no point in trying to hide it, if he hasn't noticed already, he certainly will the next time he takes her from behind, but still she feels compelled to downplay.
He shakes his head and reaches for the back of the robe's collar, pulling it down to investigate. A moment later, he tenses, growling low in his throat. "Who did this?"
Jian feels her cheeks heat. Her voice comes out quieter than she intended. "One of the sisters, I don't know her name. Lynx tried to stop her, but Miarya overruled her. I think she punished her for it, too." Another thing that's her fault. "I thought you knew already."
"I did not. Trust me, I am going to have a serious talk with Lady Miarya when we return to the kabal, on that you have my word."
"There's no need. She's right, I belong to you and my body should – " Her throat tightens and she can't bring herself to continue.
The archon's arms encircle her, pulling her to his chest. "You are allowed to be sad and cry, Jian. It's alright."
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "This shouldn't upset me this much." Not after everything else.
Releasing his hold on her, he takes a step back and grabs her hand. "Listen to me: I don't need your body to reflect anything. You are a beautiful woman, but it's not what I love about you. What I love about you is here – " he places her hand on the side of her head " – and here." He moves their hands to her chest, over her heart.
She shakes her head. "Then why is that how you show me off?"
The archon releases her hand and sits back down with a sigh. "Jian, that party, I – I wasn't thinking. I was so excited to have you with me for the night that I didn't think about how different the role you would have to play would be from the one I did until it was too late to leave. I know it was frightening and demeaning and that was not how I wanted you to feel. It was a mistake, and I'm sorry."
He's… sorry? Jian feels herself start to shake as guilt and frustration fill her. How has she managed to fail so hard? She wanted to show him how grateful she was and instead she's making him take care of her. Again. She steps away, covering her mouth with her hands. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I wanted this to be a nice, relaxing evening for you…"
Standing, he approaches her again. "We are not focusing on me right now, though. This is about how you feel."
Jian looks up through tear-filled eyes. "But that's why I'm here; to make you happy." How is she supposed to keep his interest if he won't even let her break out of the role of a victim?
He stiffens, and when he speaks again, his voice cracks with exhaustion. "Jian, I love you. I have told you this. Continuing to do… this, this spending every hour of every day trying to please me, it's destroying you, and I feel like I keep pounding my head against a wall trying to show you that you don't have to."
"Is that why you stopped asking for- for me? After the party?"
"Yes. And why I keep telling you that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy here with me." He looks down at the floor and falls silent. She almost thinks that she needs to say something now when he inhales deeply and looks up, although he still won't meet her eyes. "Is that even something you want?"
"Of course I do, I – "
He cuts her off. "Because if you don't, if this is something you're unwilling to try, then I will have to live with that. I cannot and will not force you to love me. You can move in with Lynx as her assistant or I can find you another job in the kabal, somewhere comfortable and secluded where no one will harm you and you can be at peace."
It feels as though something has cracked inside Jian, a ray of light bursting into some of the dark places inside her even as a line of fire shoots through her stomach. Hope that she hasn't felt in months. "Really?"
The archon swallows and nods.
Jian blinks, unsure if what she's hearing is real. Unsure if she wants to know if it isn't. "I'm sorry, I – I don't – " She cuts off again, finding herself out of breath.
"It's alright. Just tell me what you want."
"I want…" Her mind seizes on the first thing she can think of. "I want to take a bath."
He nods vaguely and returns to his chair while she enters the washroom. As soon as the door is closed, she collapses against it, trying to stifle her sobs into silence. This is good, she reminds herself. You have a choice.
But what to do with it? Her first instinct is to take the freedom he offers. Even if she would still be a slave, the thought of having space to truly breathe is seductive. If she could have a little cabin of her own, somewhere where no one would ever demand her body or soul again…
A memory floats to the surface. She kneels in front of the archon yet again, doing her best to give him the pleasure he desires with her lips and tongue as he sits on his throne with a stack of paperwork. A sound of a door opening at the far end of the room. Jian pulls away as footsteps approach, but his hand catches the back of her head, pressing her face between his legs and holding her there as he speaks to whoever has arrived, until her mouth is long since filled with the results of her work and the woman's voice and presence have disappeared.
It's seductive, the idea of never having to experience that again. If she said no to him, she might be able to forget everything that's happened. She could convince herself that it was all a bad dream and become…
Become what?
Standing on shaky legs, she starts the water flowing into the huge tub set into the floor and strips off the sweat-stained practice outfit. As soon as she finishes, she lowers herself into the shallow pool and waits, eyes closed as the steaming water rises around her.
Another memory. They sit on a bench in his rooftop garden as he tries to instruct her in the basics of shading in monochrome. She sinks deeper into concentration, trying to get the tones just right on a sketch of one of the nearby trees. When she finally shakes herself from her reverie, her neck is stiff and her back sore. The archon watches her, a smile teasing at his lips, before showing her his own paper. A portrait of her, face furrowed in concentration and smudges of charcoal on her chin. She hurries to apologize for forgetting him, but he shakes his head and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he beams at her, thanking her for holding so still for him.
Seen through a lens in which she doesn't have to fight to keep his attention, where she wouldn't have to be constantly afraid of being cast aside if she spares a moment to herself, she would have enjoyed the moment. It brings a kind of happiness even now. There are many other scenes that do the same. In another life, perhaps she could have loved him. But with everything that has passed between them already, she doesn't know if it's possible anymore.
Jian stays in the bath for over an hour, staring at the water and trying to process. After so long, the idea of having control is overwhelming.
He said he loves me.
Another memory, this one blurred by a haze of pain and fear. The archon cradles her, face twisted with worry as he speaks reassuring words that she can't understand. He was afraid to lose her, desperate to ease her suffering. Is it wrong that she desires to matter to someone? If she has someone who cares whether she lives or dies, can she really throw it away?
She climbs out of the tub and dries herself before donning a robe. She's still not certain if this is what she wants, or if she's only staying because it's his will. But her mind is made up in either case.
The archon is still in his chair when she emerges, although he seems to have fallen asleep. A wine glass and an empty bottle sit on the table next to him. Jian stands over him, watching. A handsome face, the tattoos enhancing its shape and drawing attention to his eyes. He looks exhausted, and his hair is still somewhat flat and dull. Valthiel. She could get used to calling him that, couldn't she? That is his name, after all.
Pulling a blanket from his bed, she drapes it over him and finds herself once again paralyzed. What do I do now? He stirs, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, but doesn't wake. She could perhaps make them a pot of tea.
The process of heating water and steeping leaves occupies her for a few minutes, but soon she has a pair of cups full of hot green liquid. She sets his on the table, then takes a seat in the chair that Derfahn was using earlier and waits for her drink to cool. Maybe she should have done something else, sat on his lap again or the floor at his feet, but it will be hard to drink that way. This is alright.
Again, Valthiel stirs, but this time he straightens, blinking. "How was the bath?" he asks.
"It was very nice. Are you doing alright? You don't usually fall asleep this early."
"I'm fine, just worried."
"I'm sorry."
"There is nothing for you to be sorry for."
"What would you like me to do now?"
"Jian – " He stops, takes a deep breath. "This evening is about you and your pleasure. What do you want to do?"
"I want…" Speaking it will make it real. "I want to stay with you? I want you to… teach me that game you were playing earlier?"
Valthiel's face collapses into happiness as he swallows hard. "Are you sure?"
Jian nods. Their hands brush as she reaches out to accept the deck of cards.
The archon and his slave spend several more hours together, cautiously exploring her desires as mixed feelings war in them both. As time passes, they draw closer, their bodies coming nearer until she again sits in his lap, resting her frayed emotions in the steadiness of his breathing.
When they part to sleep in their own beds, each has calmed slightly, a thin layer of peace gilding over all their fears. For the moment, they are content.
A/N:
It's probably a good thing that Jian was all dosed up on painkillers and distracted by her own thoughts when Bealfor visited her. Otherwise, she might have realized that he most likely went out and found some other slave from Yme-loc to torture into revealing what the craftworld looks like in order to make her apology gift.
I've given some thought to writing a short spinoff fic about Ayslinn and Bealfor's relationship. Still not sure if I will, but I keep coming back to it, so maybe I will some day.