WARNING: NON-CON, INCEST UP AHEAD.
_;_
Arisu looked on angrily, glaring into the orb. How dare Sesshomaru… How dare he?
She would admit that it was she who cursed Sesshomaru. She had intended for the little kappa demon to fail. And from that little creature's failure, she would rise as Sesshomaru's savior, who he would then fall madly in love with and they would have little elemental puppies running around.
But… That girl. She was the cause of all of Arisu's suffering. She had to be able to suppress the curse. She had to be able to weave some sort of trickery around the aloof lord. She HAD to ruin all of Arisu's plans.
"What to do, what to do…" She turned to her apothecary's satchel, where she rummaged around for a bit.
"Hmm… Fire Salts? No, I've already blown up someone this month."
More rummaging.
"Void Salts? I could conjure a Storm Golem I guess, but that doesn't seem very original. Hmmm… Mutant wolf? Gigantic crab? Disease infested vermin? I don't know… Those all sound like 'been there's, done that's'"
She wracked her brain, trying to think of the perfect way to make the girl suffer.
"Oh! A troll. A troll! What a lovely idea!" She laughed evilly, only to have that cut short by a fit of coughing.
"I'll send a troll! Those things are hell to kill and they heal so fast! She won't have a chance! And then the troll will feast on her gooey bits and Sesshomaru will be so… heartbroken… and I'll be there to be his shoulder to cry on! Muhahahahahahahahaha!"
Now Arisu was at one time a perfectly sane woman. She was borne from a very well to do lord. Everything she ever needed academically was met. He bought her tome after tome of incantations, conjurations, restorations, alterations, illusions… He bought the rarest ingredients for her to grind with mortar and pestle and distill into powerful potions and dangerous poisons. He bought her everything she would ever require for her academic career. She had no friends, except her little ghost friend, but she could only conjure him once a month, unless she wanted to cram herself into an early grave.
It wasn't that she was ugly. The opposite was quite true. Her beautiful eyes and bright, scholarly countenance made her quite popular. Her haughty façade made her the pride of all her father's formal balls. Her quick wit and keen hearing made her a force to be reckoned with in the war meetings. She was the perfect daughter. She did what she was told. When her father said jump, she inquired how high.
But what she wanted, what she truly, truly desired was to be a woman. To fall in love. To have little babies running around, to hear the soft pitter patters of little feet on the wooden floor. That is what she most desired.
When she told her father of her wishes, he laughed in her face, and locked her in the dungeon until she agreed to never speak of such things ever again. And so she became the family spy, who found all of the little secrets that the rival lords had and threatened to expose them or wage war on them exploiting these weaknesses.
One day, her father requested an audience with her.
"Daughter, I need you to lay waste to a rival lord. I require you to kill his family members , and burn his castle to the ground. But, leave him alive. I want him to suffer"
She looked on in shock, not sure how to respond. She had never killed. Never. And now he expected her to kill not one but 12 people, in cold blood, perhaps ruining the man forever? She didn't have it in her to do so. She'd rather fall on her own dagger and kill herself.
And so she tried to do. She pointed her dagger at her throat, the ebony blade gleaming in the sunlight streaming in from the window. She gave a small prayer to kami-sama, asking for mercy, as she drove the blade forward, aiming for her exposed, pale neck.
She started, looking down, watching as the expensive ebony dagger skittered across the floor noisily, the jagged edge glinting the sunlight into her eyes. She glared at her father, her heart clenching in her chest.
"I won't do it, father!" She cried, her hands clenched in indignation.
His hand met her face, and she closed her eyes, shocked that he had struck her. Her entire face tingled in pain, and she could already feel her lip swelling. He had never even threatened to lay a hand on her.
"F-father?" She asked, holding her still throbbing face, refusing to let the tears fall. He struck her again, harder, and she crumpled to the floor. She could taste blood in her mouth, and she couldn't find the will to open her left eye. The concept of pain was new to her. She had never so much as scraped her knee, let alone been struck with the intention of harming.
He grabbed a fist full of her hair, pulling her upright.
"You will kill his family. I am not afraid to beat you until you consent"
He hefted her up by her beautiful, swan-like neck, and pressed her against the wall, watching with avid interest as she clawed desperately at his hands. He pulled her forward, before slamming her back against the wall. She stopped struggling, going limp in his hands.
And for a second, her father lost himself. He blinked painfully, looking at her closely.
"K-Kanna?" He looked beyond her, his eyes not seeing his daughter, but seeing his late wife. He whispered her name over and over, his lips ghosting over her petal soft lips. His hand moved from her neck to the ties of her dress, parting them without hurry, not hearing or not caring about her distressed cry of 'father, stop!'. His hand glided over her chest, pinching her nipple brutally.
"Kanna…" He warned, his eyes not his own, the pain fogging his judgment. He gave a final pull, and her clothing parted slowly from her form, as if the fabric itself couldn't bear to be away from her body. But gravity forced it to part from her shivering, frightened, stricken body, and it glided down her pale shoulders and left her bare before his eyes.
His eyes roamed over his daughters form, noting how her nipple was red and swollen from his forceful tugging, and yet the other was pale pink, matte even in the bright stream of light that pervaded the otherwise dim room. He looked closer, examining the way her blue veins stood out in contrast to her lily white skin, the way that her small nipples tipped her breasts, just rounding in her upcoming maturity.
He pushed her to the ground, his hand fisted in her hair. He kneeled above her, his eyes wild in his confusion, even though the fog in his mind was clearing, dissipating with haste. He knew what he was doing. He didn't stop.
"You want to be a mother? A wife? Fine! Let me show you what to expect from your 'husband'! This is how he will express his love for you!" He shouted, opening her legs, his eyes daring her to fight. And she rose to the challenge, thrashing under her father, confused and upset and utterly mortified.
He struck her head against the marble floor, growling his distaste to her. He pressed his fingers against her dry slit, rubbing her roughly. "Do you know how to make a child that you desire so much?" He asked softly, whispering in her ear to her, rubbing his fingers lovingly across her nipples, his eyes glued to the still soft and pliant peaks.
"A man and a woman meet. They do as the animals do." He whispered, positioning himself at her virgin entrance , having pushed down his layer after layer of clothing in order to expose himself. He pressed the bulbous head of his member against her unwilling slit, frowning at the lack of moisture, before pressing himself into her roughly, all the way to the hilt.
Her cry of pain and confusion startled his hips into motion, and he found himself glad that she now was easier to move in. He panted softly, licking and kissing her entrancing nipples, moving against her unresponsive body in a frenzy of lust. He pulled her hair, tilting her head back, sucking on the tender flesh of her pale, beautiful neck.
He couldn't help but think to himself: What a whore. The little bitch.
And then he also remembered the time in his youth, when his father loomed above him in the same way that he now loomed over his daughter, or the various times when he was instructed to meet with his unwilling mother and to move over her, under her, beside her, for his father's amusement.
After a few moments, he shuddered, releasing his seed inside her young, yet to be fertile womb.
He hissed in her ear, resting his forehead against hers. He pulled out quickly, and a startled gasp left him, as his body froze, slowly. His daughters eyes, who had taken a hollowed out appearance soon after he began, were finally beginning to refocus.
She looked at her father, surprised to see that he was covered in a thick layer of ice. Her eyes widened, shocked, but she nodded her head sadly. He was no longer alive. Or he wouldn't be for very long. In the amount of time that it would take all the servants to free him, he would have long since been dead.
She sat up, ignoring the pain between her legs, and held her hand against the thin ice on the back of her father's neck.
"I still love you father, although I will never forgive you" She whispered, cooing to him softly. She ignored the distressed moaning, and the tearful wordless begging. His eyes clouded over and his noises slowed.
She took a deep breath.
She let an icicle go, piercing his neck as an arrow would. His brain stem and spine were separated on impact. He was dead before he hit the ground.
She left that day, and never came back.