Write about your father

[birthrightgreen]

My father? He had no right to such a name. She denied it, and I never called him so. But all right, sugar. If that's what you want. Let's talk about the man who sired me.

Women rule in Terreille, and the whole concept of Protocol has been perverted. It used to be a balance. District Queens served Province Queens who served Territory Queens--the strongest and the best, chosen by the dark Jeweled Blood of the Territory. Males served the Queen their heart led them to. The Blood looked after the landen, and the land flourished and it was good. Caste, social standing and Jewel rank worked together, a triumvirate of power and position that kept our people always in a dance of power and protocol and in balance. The strong protected the weak.

Or so I have been told. It is not so, now. Males, even privileged ones, are no more than slaves. Frightened, weak males strip any weaker female of all her power and frightened females ring strong males before they can become a threat. A strong Queen could challenge and change this, but males bed them too young and they rise from their Virgin Night broken and useless. No threat to the SaDiablo reign.

Kartane SaDiablo. Only son of Dorothea SaDiablo, Red-Jeweled High Priestess of the Black Widow Coven and ruler of Hayll. Most of Terreille has fallen into Hayll's shadow, into Dorothea's shadow. She perverts everything she touches, and her son is no exception. Weak-willed, cowardly bastard, he took his ire out on the weak, the helpless. Darkness forbid that a Queen could rise, strong enough to challenge Dorothea's rule. Any such she saw broken, and her son soon became one of her favorite instruments.

He was a pretty boy, I've heard tell. A broken man when I finally saw him, caught in the web that Jaenelle wove around Briarwood, but a pretty boy. His mother thought so as well. He was naught more than a child when she took him to her bed to pleasure her. They say that sort of thing can break a man. He couldn't stop her, so he took it out on those weaker. Servant girls speared so viciously they had to send him away because the other men complained they couldn't use the girls. He hated whores. The gossip in the houses was that he could only rise to the occasion if he caused pain, and only the lower houses allowed the games he wanted to play. He was banned from houses before he found ways to just dominate the young girls without marking the goods. But houses had rules, and he didn't have absolute power.

So he took to playing his mother's game. Find a witch, young, still a girl. Spear her, hard and vicious. Break her web of power and drive her beyond herself. He'd keep them sometimes. Make them play his game until he seeded them. Sometimes they aborted spontaneously. Sometimes he gave them a brew to drink. When the child was gone, he tossed them out to go back to their families or a Red Moon House or the gutter.

My mother escaped his depraved games. She'd worn the Green when he broke her past herself. She couldn't use more than basic Craft when he was done the first night. She escaped and she whored for her keep so Kartane couldn't find her and destroy the child she gave birth to. His child.

Me.

His mother's pawn found her while I was at school. Slit her throat. I ran, so they wouldn't find me.

And then I trained. I killed. Planned men's deaths carefully and cruelly and sent them to it.

Dress rehearsal, sugar. For the right place. The right time. For my meeting with my father.

Comments

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She was too tired to block much of anything, and it was a clear symbol of her trust that she hadn't thrown him out and locked the door against him. Granted she was too...something to even consciously recognize that herself.

"If they strike. If...but that...seems rare. Here. That...." People didn't kill as often. "I asked Daemon...no one needs an assassin here...." There weren't even proper Red Moon houses, not that she wanted to go back to that. She'd never cared for it. Despised most of her clients with a cold contempt. She used them as they used her.

She curled into him, cradling her arm, the pain finally starting to bite through the fog in her brain.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He looked down at her arm, trying to hide his distress. He knew no healing Craft. Knew few people that did other than the Coven itself. And somehow he doubted Surreal would forgive him for bringing them down on her head. All he could do was lift her up into his lap, and hold her tighter.

"Life changes," he continued talking into her hair, running one hand softly down her back. "That doesn't mean our purpose has to. You just have to stay ready, for when they do strike. Watch, listen. Keep safe those who don't even know they are being kept."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She bit back a whimper at the shift, then rested her head on his shoulder, staring a bit at her arm, finger tracing through the blood, breaking up the clotting on the older cuts, watching it run.

She nodded a little, almost absently, listening to him. She'd known that..sometime. Yesterday? The day before? When had it gotten so blurry? When had she gotten so lost?

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

That was enough of that.

He may not know the healing Craft, but Rainier wasn't about to sit with her in his arms, and actually feel her bleeding out. Securing her tightly, he lifted Surreal up, and headed for the bathroom door. Placing her in the tub, he vanished her clothes and began filling it with water. Carefully controlling the temperature.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her good arm around them, resting the other on top. She was just so tired, and it seemed easier to rest her head there than fight him on it.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He rinsed her off quickly, gently cleaning her arm. Tried not to look at how quickly the water turned red. After he was done he turned off the water and lifted her from the tub again, back into his arms. He dried her as best he could, not wanting to make her stand, and then took a lightweight towel and wrapped it tightly around her arm.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She did whimper then, biting it off quickly, sharply, though the pain made spots dance in front of her eyes. She'd done this herself, though she didn't really remember doing it. She should suffer through it.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He hated that sound, and ran a reassuring hand across her shoulder. Not sure if he was helping, or hurting. He pressed her against his chest as he carried her to the bed.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She wrapped her free arm around his neck, only letting go when he had her settled on the bed. Even then, her hand trailed down his arm, reaching for his fingers.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He sat on the bed next to her, quietly holding her hand while is jaw worked. It was best for Kartane that he was already dead.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see me like this..."

She had her head turned away, studying the wall, unable to look at him. She wasn't weak. And yet he'd found her like this.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

"I would rather see, than not," he countered, holding her hand tighter. He would rather be let in, than pushed out.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She was so cold, she was shivering. Her voice broke, just a little, and she hated that so much that it made her sick. Hated asking even more. But she was so cold.

"Will you hold me?"

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

She only had to ask. And yet he hated that she even had to. But there was always that fear. Of pushing to hard, or touching her to soon.

He stretched out next to her, wrapping her body up in his own.

"As long as you want."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She curled into him, careful of her now throbbing arm. Head on his chest, and as close to him as she could get. Warmth, and someone else there. He wasn't judging, or at least not openly.

"Thank you."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He thought about arguing her offer of thanks, but decided it was pointless. He pulled her closer, running one hand through her hair.

"You're welcome."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She closed her eyes, accepting the comfort he offered. A little nod, nuzzling his skin, breathing him in.

*I'm not usually this weak* Half to him, half to herself.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He tucked that chin he cared so much for closer still, and murmered something warm, and without sense.

*I never said you were weak at all.*

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

*This....this is weak. Doing this...* Needing him, or hurting herself. It wasn't clear which she meant.

She curled tighter to him, good arm clinging and belying her next words.

*I don't need anyone*

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

*This is pain, not weakness.*

He reached out to pull a blanket over them both, the movement quiet and thoughtful.

*I know you don't.*

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

*It's weak to show pain...* At least in her world. She snuggled under the blanket, then looked at his shirt, contrition in her eyes.

"I got blood on you..."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

*It is brave to.*

He followed her gaze and finally smiled. It was small, and wr, and she might have missed it if she wasn't so close.

"I have other shirts. Or have I failed in getting you to notice my rather impressive wardrobe?"

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She smiled just a little. "I've noticed..."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_deadlydance_/]

He watched the smile hopefully.

"Then you know I have many, many more shirts."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She nodded a little, still stroking the material.

"I shouldn't have, though."