Note: Previously, it was a human girl. I've switched it to drow to make the story more believable
The boy, Dantrag, sat quietly in the cold, dark dungeon. His back, stinging and burning, rested against the cool stone wall. His eyes were closed and he was dimly aware of the tooth, still hidden inside his shirt. He was silently trying to reconcile the events of the past two days.
He had found the tooth, while running away from his sister. He had worn the tooth and had a scary, crazy dream. He had attacked his sister, against all logic, against everything he had ever been taught. But it wasn't fair...
The frustration and anger welled up inside him again, he could taste it, bitter on his tongue. Why did it have to be so stupid and unfair? Why did his sister have to be so mean? Why was everything the way it was? Why had he attacked her? Why hadn't he won? For one brief moment, he had been full of fury and hate. The next moment, he was confused, a frightened little boy again.
She had staggered back from his first assault, bleeding profusely, her hand grasping for her mace. He had been staring at the knife in his hand, at the blood on the floor. He had not known he could do that, he had not known it was possible. He had felt the anger again, but then he looked at her and he saw rage in her eyes as well. She was no longer off guard, her mace was in one hand, her whip in the other. His anger died and he had collapsed. And this was where he had woken up, with fresh whip wounds on his back.
Another why...why hadn't she just killed him then? He sunk back against the wall, a choked sob escaped his throat. It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense. He wanted terribly...someone to look after him, someone to pick him up and dry his tears and make everything okay again. If he had been a human child, he would be wishing for his mother. But the little drow boy's mother was another danger, not a sanctuary. He had no one in the whole world. He dissolved into helpless weeping, his shoulders shaking with the force of a mixture of frustration, confusion and fear too strong to be contained in his small body. He buried his head in his hands and cried.
Finally, hoarse and exhausted, he fell back into sleep.
When he woke up again, his stomach was crying for food. He was no stranger to hunger, having been denied meals before as a form of punishment. But it had been a LONG time and he was hungry. He still didn't know what was happening to him and he was close to collapsing with despair, yet he pulled himself to his feet and walked tentatively to the door of the cell.
There was no one in sight, so he sat down again, by the bars this time. He closed his eyes and waited, as patiently as a five year old can. Eventually, he drifted yet again into sleep. There was really nothing else to do, sitting in the cell.
When he woke up for the third time, his sister was standing over him. Not the one he had attacked, but the oldest. He was almost as frightened of her as he was of the matron mother. She was not like Faeryl, she didn't get angry or lose her temper. She was calm, collected, in full control of herself, and it seemed to the boy, in full control of everything around her. She was subtly, quietly, undeniably cruel. She smiled at him and he felt weak and small. He cowered away from her, feeling his heartbeat start to quicken in his chest.
"Hello, Dantrag." Her voice was tempered steel sheathed in silk. "Look at me." she said. He was staring at the floor, drawing breath in soft gasps. He had committed two horrible crimes, and she was the last person he wanted to see. Nonetheless, he looked up, into her beautiful, terrible, smiling face.
"Do you know what you've done, little brother?" she asked him after a few moments. His first instinct was to shake his head, so many times he had been in situations like this and had not known what he had done. But this time, he did. He nodded slowly, gulping.
She knelt down in front of him, still holding his gaze.
"We should sacrifice you to Lolth." she said sweetly. "Don't you think you would deserve it?"
He did deserve it, he thought. He had done horrible things, he was a traitor to the Goddess, he had attacked his sister. He nodded, terrified that she would take him away and plunge the sacrificial dagger into his chest and that would be the end of him. It was a justified fear, but in this case, it was not what happened.
Instead she took his chin in one small, slender hand. She glared into his eyes and he shrunk away from her.
"For some reason, a girl who is apparently somehow affiliated with Matron Baenre wants you." Dantrag stared at his sister, not understanding. She released his chin and stood up, towering over him. "I do not know who this child is or where she came from, but Matron Baenre backs her up. Our own honored Matron thinks it best to cooperate. Besides, you are worthless to us anyway." The boy looked at her with frightened eyes. He was even more confused now. Some unknown girl wanted him? What was she going to do with him?
His sister regarded him quietly for a few minutes. He stared at the floor and tried to fight back another wave of tears.
Finally, she said. "Get up." He obeyed, feeling his stiff legs scream out in protest at being forced to support his weight. She beckoned to him, seeming distracted now, as if thinking about something more important to him. He followed her out of the cell, up a corridor, up a flight of stairs. Now they were back in the house proper and he recognized their surroundings.
It hadn't really been that long, but it seemed like forever. Maybe his life hadn't been fun back then, but it had been okay. Now he was completely messed up. He considered falling to his knees and begging his sister for forgiveness. But he was not a complete idiot. He had committed a crime and all the pleading in the world would not move her. All he would earn would be a lash of her whip and more trouble. He walked along, a few paces behind her, feeling as if he was lost in a vast cavern, whose walls and ceiling were so distant that he could not see, and all around him was empty, bleak, meaningless gray cold. He didn't have the energy to cry or say anything or even think.