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 gasped, meeting him with each thrust, tightening around him. Her fingers teased over him, stroking.

[(Anonymous)]

He buried both his hands in her hair, fingers lost in the silky softness there as his thrusts continued to build in intensity.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She continued her light touches, though they faltered somewhat as her nails dug into his shoulders. Her gasps became little moans.

[(Anonymous)]

His whole body pressed into hers, as they matched each other in a rolling rythym. It spoke much of their continued education, and understanding, of each others bodies.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She murmured his name softly, wrapping herself around him as much as she could to keep the intimate pressure between them. Her lips drifted down his neck, to his shoulder, tiny kisses pressed to skin in focused acknowledgment of being with him in this, not standing outside it.

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

Her voice and his name joined were the last thing he needed to be pushed over the edge.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She held onto him as he filled her, letting his climax trigger hers, and clinging to him as she felt her body shiver in its own release.

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

There was a moment to breathe, and then moved to rest on his side, wrapping her up tight inside is arms.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She smiled as she rolled with him, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat as it slowly returned to normal.

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

He kissed her forehead, hands lightly stroking over her skin.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She looked up at him and kissed him softly with a little smile.

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

He studied her features, long enough that it had to be commented on.

"We are both very quiet."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

"That seemed worthy of reverent silence to pay it homage," she said with a little grin.

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

He laughed at the truth of that, and pulled her closer into their shared warmth. "All that energy. It had to be the bacon, and cream."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She snuggled close against him, tracing patterns on his chest.

"That must be it, of course."

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

"I know that we mutually agreed to do this all day," he announced into her hair. "But I could do this all day."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She smiled, skin heating a little bit with the flush that lit her cheeks. "So could I." Happily, which was also a new feeling.

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

His breath was warm across her shoulder.

"What now, schedule keeper?"

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She gave him a rueful smile. "Do you think you could see if the housekeeper has some salve for my arm? There should be something for cuts and such in the kitchen, yes? I think..." She winced a little. "It needs something if we're going to keep this up all day comfortably..."

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

He nodded, and slid from the bed immediately. Embarrased that he had not considered her arm before now.

"It will be just a moment."

He pulled on his clothes, nothing so casual as a robe there to use, and then headed downstairs. A few minutes later he reappeared, salve in hand.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She'd pulled a sleeveless robe, a pretty piece of almost nothing, on, taking care of a few necessities while he was gone.

She'd gotten a basin of warm water and was carefully unwrapping the towel when he got back, wincing just a bit as she tried to pull it free gently.

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

He settled next to her, noting the water and the small look of pain. Placing the salve next to the basic, he touched the towel gently.

"May I?"

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She watched him for a moment then nodded, surrendering her arm.

"It's been a while since I had knife cuts. Bruises..." She shrugged. Bruises. Split lip. But she'd asked for those, literally, even if it had made them both sick to go through with it and Daemon hadn't met her eyes for weeks.

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

He removed the towel, and gently began to rinse away at the cuts and blood. "What happened," he asked. Wanting to know more than he didn't.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She glanced at him, and gives him a wry smile. "Which time?"

If she tells him of Daemon and he changes toward him at all...it won't be pretty, she decided with a touch of regret.