A/N: Warning for knifeplay and breathplay (though, not sticking to the traditional way it is done). Also the tiniest bit of blood and implied sexual content and cheating.
Some major ugliness transpired between the TDC characters that Griffin and Valtor stand for in this AU and now they're both dead so it might have pushed me to continue this verse. (Also, the fact that I am still so obsessed with that world wtf.)
Quick note on the setting - the Volroy is the palace where the Queen and the Black Council are seated. and it is set in the capital of Fennbirn - Indrid Down.
The sheets were soft as flower petals as she crawled on top of him after he unbuttoned her dress and she pushed him back on the mattress before letting the garment fall to the floor and reveal her body to him as well as give her freedom of movement. She had expected different from the cotton of the small inn and she'd been surprised, even if she weren't quite sure she was pleased by that. She'd hoped the discomfort of a meeting spot that didn't cover her standards could shake her back to her senses even if the fact that she had to hide hadn't succeeded.
In all fairness, she would prefer to hide even if it were someone she could be seen with that she was sleeping with. She would hate for her personal life to be all over the capital like the newest fashion trend. There were enough rumors about Griffin Sylvane as it was and she didn't want to give them more to talk about. She certainly couldn't allow it in the present situation. Not when she was with a married mainlander.
He'd had the audacity to look for her in the Volroy, had come to the palace and asked for her like he had any other business there than to cheat on his wife if she agreed to be the other woman. She'd had half a mind to offer him a glass of her tainted brandy–they had clean alcohol in the Council's meeting room but in her personal study it was poisoned through and through and those who did not have her gift had learned to stay away from her bar–but she'd known he wouldn't have taken it. Not after he'd seen her taste for poison. Or so she'd hoped. Otherwise, she'd missed her chance to get rid of him.
She'd ended up on his boat instead–several times since then–where the waves of the port rocking it constantly reminded her she was not on solid ground. She was trespassing in his marriage and she shouldn't have been there. Not when he'd hold her one afternoon and then sail away to his wife for weeks on end, sometimes months even.
And now on a bed in an actual building her head was spinning even more than when she'd just woken up to find out she'd lain with a serpent and even her gift hadn't been able to save her from the pain of his deception that had shot straight through her veins and into her heart to poison it despite who she was. It was her who was on top when they were on her territory, this time truly and not just in her land of make-believe where he was someone she could spend her life with. He was hers anyway and that would have to be enough even when she could only have him when he could tear away from his wife and she could sneak away from her duties and the appearances she needed to keep.
"Feeling adventurous today?" Valtor asked, his eyes sliding over the knife strapped to her thigh in a sheath that was there to keep it from cutting through her muscles, not from tainting her blood with the poison on the blade. He was more likely to fall victim to the poison first and so he did not dare reach for it or even for the skin it covered like it could cut him even wrapped as it was and his trepidation had nothing to do with foreplay but with the question she could almost hear bouncing around in his head and hitting his skull painfully.
It was fun to watch him squirm mentally even if his body was as steady as an island in the midst of the ocean although she had never meant the knife for him. It was for her. For her protection.
There had been attempts on her life so she'd thought it would be good to take her security in her own hands and not trust anyone else to do it better than she could. Her dress had the right pocket opening right above the handle of the knife so that she could pull it out from there and not waste time lifting her skirts. It also made sure she looked unarmed and could lull someone into a false sense of how much effort they'd need to kill her. Though, she was just starting to realize how useful her little tucked away weapon could be for messing with Valtor's head as well.
"It's my favorite," she said as she pulled it out, the feeling of the engraved handle in her palm proof of how true her words were. It was a gift from her sister and it was a knife most beautiful aside from it being perfect for both defense and offense even if it weren't really a throwing knife. "I'd hate to part with it," she said as she drew it out and pointed it towards his throat pushing the tip closer and closer until it held his breath hostage when he didn't try to make a break for the door and stayed put to let her intentions play out whatever they might be.
She felt her blood rushing all through her body and making her heart race to keep up with the ecstatic flow but the true throbbing was between her legs when she saw him keeping from breathing. He knew there were toxins coating the blade and was playing right into her game of being her prey. And she couldn't look away from the tip of her knife lest she saw the lack of fear in his frozen eyes when that was not what kept him suspended the way she wanted him and her hand wavered and cut the man who could understand her without words. She almost hoped he could do that when it was the words that had hurt, that had opened her heart to pour agony in it and drown it even when it'd pumped blood laced with poison through her veins for decades now.
"You would do best to keep still," she said as she let the blade drop flat against his chest, the edge almost pressing into his skin. "It's very sharp and can cut through you like you're paper," she said and was glad to see he was getting the message when he didn't try to inhale. The slightest movement of his chest could make the knife bite into his skin and there'd be no saving him when the poison did the rest and tore his body apart from inside.
She slowly pulled the knife towards herself making it slide down his chest and letting him feel every torturous second. Her own heart was thumping in her ears so loudly that she could only hope he wouldn't go deaf from his own when it was bound to pound even harder. She was playing with fire and could end up burning them both. Granted, with different flames when his insides would be scorched by the sting of the poison and her heart would end up in ashes no mix of herbs would be able to revive, but that would just make it that much more of a shame for her to bear when it would mean she'd failed in her own area of expertise as a poisoner. She did not fail.
She would see it to an end even if she was greatly aroused and distracted by the sight he made for caught in her net of poison. All she wanted was to toss the knife away and kiss him until they didn't need the oxygen they couldn't find anymore when he was holding his breath through the leisurely walk of her blade over his chest. The thought of how hard it had to be for him to halt his life for so long just because she wished it to be so was most seductive and it was luring her in stronger than a poisoner's feast did. She just wanted to sink her teeth into him and bite until he was all inside her and there was no need to worry for leaving any marks since there would be nothing left of him to return to his wife ever again. She would have eaten him all like he was poison and could do no harm to her system. At least then she would have an excuse for being unable to get him out of there.
She finally lifted the blade. Not because she'd had enough of his surrender to her whims, but because she wouldn't get more of it if she didn't let him breathe soon and forced his body to disobey his will in search of life only to push itself right into the death she'd laid on his chest. She didn't want him dead. She just wanted his life to belong to her like she knew it never would.
He was sucking in a breath immediately and the air rushing in his lungs visibly was the most thrilling spectacle she'd ever seen. It let her know just how close she'd pushed him to the edge of a fall he would never come out of alive and she would love to experiment until she had him teetering right on it but his struggle to breathe when he hadn't tried to stop her from taking his life under her control had aroused an indescribable need in her.
She caught his eyes which wasn't that hard when he seemed just as entranced with the idea of her having every part of him as she was and touched her fingertip to the knife's blade to have a drop of blood blooming from the open wound instantly. Her knives were as sharp as her poison was and could kill on their own when guided by her excellent aim but she was happy to feel the toxins on the edge rush through her blood like the adrenaline was doing. It was enough to keep her anchored for now and not have her leap at him when he still needed time to recover from her foreplay.
"What is it?" Valtor managed to get out between his gasps and she almost licked the blood from the cut before she remembered it would leave traces of poison in her mouth that would force her to get up if she wanted to be able to kiss him. Her concoctions never lacked in strength if she hadn't purposefully made them so and this one was tasked with protecting her life so she hadn't spared her poisoner skill when making it.
"Belladonna," Griffin said before she could think better of it and at least add that it was a mix of different poisons and not just a tincture like the gift he'd given her. She was too affected by what he was letting her have and wasn't thinking about what she was giving. She'd done it once before and it had ended with a marriage standing between her and the one man she'd allowed herself to be swept away by. She needed to be more guarded but she'd already pulled her knife away from him without doing any damage when he deserved a hit with the handle at least for the way he'd handled her feelings. That would give him a taste of her pain without killing him which was all she could hope for when her revenge needed to be constricted lest it morphed into self-harm.
"Why don't you find yourself a poisoner?" Valtor asked and she wished she could believe it were the obvious restraints she had to impose on herself when she was with him that were driving the question and not what she'd accidentally confessed while drunk on the excitement and her own poison.
He just wanted to hear that she wouldn't, that she wanted him even when she knew better than that since there were limits even for who she was. Yet, the question sounded genuine enough in his soft voice that couldn't rise stronger when there was still a flooding current of air flowing into his lungs to restore the rhythm of his breathing that she'd disrupted and giving him an answer at least sounded fair after what he'd endured for her.
"A poisoner would only care for my looks," she said, trying to avoid the edge of the thought as it sliced through her mind. "My gift is not special amongst them and they are wary of my mind while you admire all of it." It was true enough. "All of me," she said, trying not to think of how she'd let him see everything only to learn that he'd lied to her. He'd come back to give her everything he had left and if that wasn't enough for her, it wasn't his fault that his embrace weakened her when she didn't have it as she was the one pushing herself into the cutting edge of the reality of their relationship. All of him that she could have, she did have.
Griffin ran her finger over his chest, over his heart, and left a trace of her blood shaped like a snake to mark him. Or maybe it was a wave–like the waves of misery her heart sent rushing through her veins once his boat was gone from the Indrid Down harbor and even the poison in her body couldn't kill the persistent feeling–but she didn't like the thought so it was time to drown it in his skin.
She returned the knife back in its sheath and unfastened it from her thigh leaning as far back and downwards as she could to drop it gently on the floor. She didn't want to damage neither her knife, nor Valtor. Even if Valtor was less of a gift and more of a curse. But what good did that knowledge do when she couldn't pull herself away despite her lack of immunity? Addiction didn't suit her when it was to anything but the poison that couldn't hurt her but it had a tight grip on her that would choke out her breath before it would loosen.
She didn't want it letting go as long as it meant she got to keep his awe of her as well. To him she was special because of who she was and not because of the position she held on the Island and the unfamiliarity of the feeling was running through her like a new poison that she'd never been exposed to before but was quickly becoming her favorite.
All the air left her lungs when she found herself underneath Valtor the moment she was free of the weight of the blade that had kept him in place. His arms were on her and she was pressed into the mattress, not long before she was writhing over the softness of the sheets that she might have just started despising when it wouldn't mar her back with the feel of them, with the feel of him holding her in place where she couldn't escape his ministrations even if she wanted to. It took away the worry of how willing she was to be the victim of his debauchery and left her only with the enjoyment of it.
It didn't take long for him to make her fall apart despite how much they both hated the knowledge. It weakened her in both their eyes and sullied their enjoyment of what he was doing to her even if it didn't mean that he had to stop. She preferred that he would before he could melt her brain completely to the point where she forgot his name was not hers to have, was not hers to scream.
She'd whispered it that first night as it'd been all she'd been capable of as out of breath as he'd left her and he hadn't liked it. Granted, because it'd been so quiet and lacking in strength, but he hadn't liked it and she was glad. She hadn't liked it when she'd learned his name belonged in the mouth of another woman and she'd sworn when she'd started that affair–this time knowingly–that he would never hear it from her the way he wanted it, drenched in her pleasure. Even if it meant never falling all the way into the ecstasy he could give her. It was the only thing keeping her from sinking fully into him and, in turn, that was the only thing keeping her living when the venom of his absence couldn't choke her but the lack of air his presence would engulf her in would do it when she only wanted to breathe him in as she knew he'd be gone the moment she blinked.
Her blood was still on him when he got out of the bathroom–she never went in with him since the whole point was to get clean and that would never happen with his fingertips on her–as if to claim him when he'd refused to scrub it away and she hated the way it sent her heart racing and nearly had her following it into his arms. He had someone else to hold and her traces would be long gone–erased, by his own hand–when he was home, all the way through the sea's waves and on the Main Land, far away from her, and all she'd have would be her poison to drink and dip her blade in.
She strapped the knife back to her thigh to remind herself that was the only gift she had in the situation when he wasn't one. Even if she could find a more beautiful reflection of herself in his eyes than she could in the mirror. He couldn't give her his heart and even if he could, she couldn't take it when she could never hold his hand in public and her fingers needed to stay wrapped around the handle of her knife to protect who she was.