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I am proud of these three. I would even go so far as to say that I love them. :D
Title: Dancing
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Daemon Sadi, Jaenelle Angelline
Prompt: 005. Lost Haven
Word Count: 1522
Rating: PG to be safe
Summary: Daemon has a rare night alone. Or so he thinks.
It was a rare moment of silence for Daemon, alone in the library. Alexandra and Leland had gone into town with Phillip and the girls, and Bobby was also off somewhere, thank the Darkness. But that also meant that Jaenelle was gone, and hence the book open in his lap was only a pretense as he sat and drank in the dark psychic scent of her and wished –
He jolted upright with a growl. Something had touched his shoulder. A whisper of wind blew through the window. The room was utterly silent. He settled back with a sigh, golden eyes slightly narrowed. This place…
Someone tapped his shoulder. His head swiveled around and promptly his other shoulder was tapped. He surged to his feet with a snarl, casting about, his golden eyes chilly. But his keen ears caught a sound at the same moment that a tantalizing brush against his mind set nerves taut and tense. A silvery giggle and that psychic scent, so very, very dark.
The golden eyes changed and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Bending down, Daemon picked up the book, folded a page slowly, and waited. This time, straining his ears, he heard the soft whisper of sound the moment before someone tweaked his nose and his ears and then vanished with a few more notes of laughter. Look appropriately indignant, Daemon stalked to the middle of the room, hands on his hips, staring about with narrowed eyes, his every sense straining for her next approach.
He can hear a soft laugh and another brush of her mind, and a moment later he wheeled and snatched at apparently empty air. Jaenelle yelped in surprise and appeared abruptly, flailing as Daemon scooped her up to eye level and gave her a raised eyebrow stare.
“Well. Look what I’ve found running about.”
Jaenelle scowled at him, and Daemon’s answering laugh was low and rich. She pushed at his chest. “Let me go, Prince,” she said imperiously, but he could see the laughter in her bright blue eyes.
He tweaked her nose playfully. “Nuh uh. Not until I get an explanation for why you’re here when I saw you leave just a bit ago.”
She made a face. “I didn’t want to go. You didn’t go.”
“I’m not a family member,” Daemon commented dryly.
Jaenelle treated him to a stern frown. “I didn’t want to go, so I didn’t,” she repeated. A little bitterness crept into her voice. “They won’t notice the different anyway.”
Daemon gave her a long look, then ruffled her hair. “Well. There goes my quiet evening, I guess. When did you learn that little trick?”
“The shadows?”
“No, the other one.”
“Oh, this one?” And abruptly he was holding a very solid bundle of air. Daemon yelped and tightened his arms, but she flickered back into view in only a moment and grinned at him. “It’s not hard,” she says. “I just kind of pluck the threads and weave myself out of them. Like covering me with a rug.”
Daemon stared at her. “You do what?”
She gives him a narrow-eyed look. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“-not wrong, just…rather differently than most people.”
She looks excited. “Will you teach me the normal way?”
Daemon gives her a stern look. “Only if you make a very serious promise.”
Jaenelle looks back at him, eyes wide. “What?”
“You’ll do something fun with me afterward.”
Jaenelle giggles. “Of course I will, silly. I would have anyway. Now put me down and teach me how to make things invisible your way.”
She picked up on the sight shield in a few moments, and from there they moved on to auditory shields. Once she had mastered that he breathed a sigh of relief and gave her a look. Jaenelle’s face was shining and bright, her eyes thrilled.
“All right,” he said quickly, a little worried about the calculating look in her eyes. “Time for the fun, okay?”
She bounced on her toes. “What kind of fun?”
“That’s up to you, dear. Preferably something that doesn’t involve bodily injury, though.”
She pondered for a few moments. Then her face colors and she begins shuffling her feet. “Daemon? I had an idea – but you can say no if you want to – it’s just an idea,” she finishes in a mutter, her face bright red.
Intrigued but a little nervous, Daemon tilted his head. “Yes?”
“-will you dance with me?”
He threw back his head and laughed. Then, realizing that she might misinterpret it, he looked back at her and bowed low, offering a hand. “Certainly, Lady. I never pass up an opportunity to dance with a Lady.”
Jaenelle blushed, rather copiously, and set her small, pale hand in his. “I’m not a Lady yet.”
Daemon kissed the top of her hand lightly and allowed himself to meet her eyes, those glorious, far too old eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, you were a Lady the moment you took your first breath. Lady Jaenelle.”
“Hush,” She said firmly, and tugged him in the direction of the dancing room. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“A Prince’s first duty to his Lady,” Daemon quipped, and she turned around and gave him a very curious look. It was only then that he realized what he had said. His Lady.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but Jaenelle beat him to it.
“And it’s a Lady’s duty to remind her Prince that he said they were going to dance.”
“Right you are, Lady.” He said, after a brief pause, and allowed himself to be tugged again. It was only when they reached the ballroom by a route that involved more than a few twists and turns that she paused, and frowned.
“What are we going to do for music?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Daemon informed her, amused. “Do you have a favorite dance?”
She pondered. “You pick.”
“All right.” It took him only a moment to key in the spell, and the notes began playing eerily out of nowhere, the first steps to a very old court dance. “Do you know this one?”
Jaenelle was tilting her head, listening closely. “I…think so,” she said hesitantly. “Correct me if I’m dancing wrong, though, I could be thinking of a different one.”
Daemon blinked at her, startled, then recovered. She was, after all Jaenelle. He had to expect to be surprised. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Lady.”
She laughed and moved, setting a hand against his raised palm and resting her other hand on his shoulder, though she had to strain to reach. He tried his best not to laugh, but from the dirty look she briefly shot him, he didn’t manage to keep his amusement from her.
“One, two, three,” she said primly, and started dancing.
It was the right dance, though the way she danced it was not like anyone else he’d ever seen. It was faster in some places, slower in others. Going through the same motions, Jaenelle was nonetheless far more graceful than any other witch he could have imagined or had seen, gliding across the floor with such fluidity that all he could do was follow, their hands barely touching, her hand on his shoulder cool even through his jacket. He kept his hands loose, not holding her down, trying not to touch her, afraid of frightening her, but when his hand touched her waist briefly, she didn’t even flinch, just kept dancing, her lips moving slightly to keep the beat and her eyes focused on her feet, looking up at him only every so often and giving him a shy smile. She was such a delight to watch that he almost wished he could step out of himself and see the two of them moving across the floor – or just watch her dance alone.
He barely registered the soft noise intruding on their moments, but she did. She stumbled and stopped, feet dragging clumsily to a half, looking towards the door. A wind blew through the room, toying with Daemon’s trousers and a wisp of Jaenelle’s golden hair. He could see her eyes, suddenly deep sapphire and very far away, and full of unhappiness. “Oh,” she murmured softly, and then turned to Daemon. She curtseyed, hardly wobbling at all, her eyes once more lowered self-consciously to the floor, retreating back into herself.
“I’m sorry, Prince. This has been lovely.”
“Wait,” he said, feeling childishly abandoned. “What’s the matter?”
He heard it; the slam of a door, the grating tones of Robert Benedict’s voice intruding in the peace of their dance floor. He turned back to look at Jaenelle, but she wasn’t looking at him, hardly even seemed to know he was there.
“Lady,” he began, and she vanished without a sound. He closed his mouth and eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. His Queen was gone again.
He stayed in the ballroom for a long while, the tune still playing softly, like an abandoned wind. Daemon listened to something else entirely, breathing deeply of her psychic scent full of unusual joy that still played in echoes through the room.
Title: Long Time Gone
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Lucivar Yaslana, Luthvian
Prompt: 078. Different
Word Count: 1,086
Rating: PG for safety
Summary: Lucivar never feels quite easy around his mother.
Lucivar stood uneasily at the door, staring at it with something of reluctance in his bearing. The surroundings were beautiful and peaceful, but he could not feel easy, not here. He opened and closed his membranous wings once, looked around, sighed, raised his hand and knocked once, briskly.
It was only a moment to open the door, perhaps the time it might take to smooth hair and skirt or to check one’s expression again in the mirror. Her face was, as usual, glad to see him, smiling, but with the strange, cold distance in the tightness around her mouth and the lines by her eyes.
“Hello, Lucivar,” she said, too brightly. “Come in.”
She stepped back to let him in. He had to maneuver awkwardly, ducking to get through the door, and he wondered if it was that low purposefully, to make it difficult for Eyriens to get in. Her kitchen was brightly lit and spotlessly clean as always. He wished that she didn’t do that. It made him feel like a spot of dirt among all the gleaming surfaces.
“Hello, Luthvian.” He bowed carefully, from the waist. “I trust you have been well?”
She turned away for only a moment, ostensibly to fetch a bowl that had been sitting on the counter, but when she turned back, he could see the familiar adjustment that closed out his wings. He tried not to feel hurt, just as he did every other visit. “Yes, thank you. The students have been a bit slow lately.”
He flinched, tensing suddenly. “The students? Are they here?” The students meant witches, and the witches meant Roxie. He tightened his jaw and tried not to stand up and leave automatically.
The look Luthvian gave him was full of disapproval and anger as she pursed her lips. “No, they are not. I sent them home before you came,” she informed him in tones that said as clear as day how great an inconvenience this was.
He breathed again. “Thank you.”
There was a silence that lasted for a while. Lucivar was thirsty, but he knew better than to ask for water, and he didn’t want to get it himself lest she thought he was turning his back on her. He shifted, tried to keep his wings still.
They spoke at the same time, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence. “What have you been up to?” Luthvian asked at the same time Lucivar said, reluctantly, “You don’t have to send them away every time.” Just Roxie, he added silently. If you just send Roxie away.
Luthvian laughed, but it was forced. “Oh, no, Lucivar. I won’t hear of it. I know how uncomfortable you are around my students.”
And why? Lucivar thought silently, almost bitterly. Because you listened to Zuultaah’s lies and turned your son over to hell. Another slight silence until Luthvian repeated her question with forced cheerfulness.
“And what have you been up to?”
Lucivar tried for a smile. “Not much.” Looking for Daemon, always. Getting to know the Coven. “Just a bit of work around the house, making sure Jaenelle stays out of trouble, spending some time with –“
He stopped.
Your father. The words hung unsaid. He sensed Luthvian’s withdrawal as she stood up and went over to the cabinet, fiddling with the handles.
“And…that’s been all right?” She asked in a tense, terse voice. He could hear the hunger in it, the longing, and could almost pity her. But it wasn’t enough to forget what her gullibility had put him through.
“I feel better than I’ve felt in years,” he said savagely, fiercely, and honestly. “At least I’m actually doing something worthwhile rather than being a –“
-pleasure slave. What you made me.
Luthvian turned and stared at him, wounded and too proud to admit it. He looked back at her, guilt warring with the bitter anger that had lingered for far too long to ever really be forgotten or forgiven.
“Everything has to be about that, doesn’t it?” Luthvian said airily. “You just can’t accept that it’s in the past now, and that it was as much his fault as mine-“
“Liar,” Lucivar said flatly, and she flushed brightly.
“He’s turned you against me! Made you just like him,” she said with disgust.
Lucivar shook his head, stood up. “I’d rather be like him a thousand times over than you. At least Saetan I can be proud of. And he’s proud of me.”
The name, as always, hit her hard. She nearly staggered, staring at him with something between hatred and disbelief. Lucivar turned to go.
“Wait – Lucivar, I’m sorry. Do we always have to fight like this?”
He turned around, looked at her, and sighed, closing his golden eyes. “No, we don’t. But we do nonetheless. Maybe I shouldn’t –“
“No,” she said firmly. “Come back in a week. Next time it will be better. We just need to talk about something other than –“
-him.
She paused, then continued. “I want to know you, Lucivar.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Luthvian.”
She came over and touched his arm, just lightly. He flinched anyway. “Be careful. You’re still vulnerable, you know.”
“I know,” he said softly, “Jaenelle told me.” Jaenelle, who kept my wings when you wanted to be rid of them. Jaenelle, who gave me back my life in my wings, the life that you cut out of the picture every time I come here.
She paused, and for a moment, Lucivar thought she might embrace him – for a moment, he thought he might bend and kiss her cheek and wish her farewell. The moment passed quickly and she turned away.
“Next week, then?” She said briskly, formally, already looking around the kitchen, preparing for what she would do as soon as he was out the door.
He looked at her back and nodded, slowly. “Next week,” he said softly, and strode out the door, not bothering to open it but simply passing through the walls. He looked back once he was outside the cottage and sighed, heavily, before opening his wings and heading for SaDiablo Hall.
He was hoping that the witches would be there – one witch in particular, to soothe his frazzled nerves. They were always raw after visits with Luthvian.
Next week, perhaps, things would be better. Maybe next week Saetan wouldn’t come up. Maybe next week there wouldn’t be blame and bitterness and pride. Maybe.
But it was a very slim chance.
He didn’t even know why he bothered to continue to come.
Title: A Little Lost
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Wilhelmina, Lucivar
Prompt: 009. Branded
Word Count: 2103
Rating: PG for language
Summary: Wilhelmina is feeling a bit alone, and meets Lucivar Yaslana. She learns a few things.
Wilhelmina wandered despondently.
Jaenelle was busy, and besides, she was different now – sometimes Wilhelmina found herself selfishly wishing for the sister she knew, the one who was shy and quiet and friendless, back when it had been just them. But then, she thought, that wasn’t true. Jaenelle had always had a family that meant more to her than one flighty, nervous older sister.
She didn’t belong here. She didn’t feel right among these witches – real witches, not the pale shadows she knew from home. Karla and Morghann and Gabrielle scared her with their fierce boldness that Wilhelmina could not hope to match; and though Kalush seemed nice, Aaron frightened her with his wary gray eyes and barely sheathed temper. It would have been nice to see Daemon, but even he was different. And of course, there was Lucivar Yaslana. It was as though she had “Terreille” stamped on her forehead; or “avoid me” branded across her face. But more than anything, she was terrified that they would send her back.
She wouldn’t go!
*Lady, what are you doing?*
Wilhelmina jumped and yelped, looking for the owner of that voice. Something was strange about it, but she couldn’t decide what. She found herself in a lush indoor garden, verdantly green, the soft sound of water over stone the only movement until something twitched at the corner of her eye. She turned quickly to apologize for intruding, and had to stifle a scream.
Her first thought was that he was enormous. He sprawled on the flagstone under a red-berried bush, lashing his tail and staring at her with curiously intelligent eyes.
*Yes?* The voice was edged with rich amusement, and this time the source was clear. The tiger was talking to her.
She sat down hard, and just stared, feeling a strong and rather dangerous urge to laugh.
*I will not eat you. You are one of the Lady’s humans.*
The Lady? Oh. Jaenelle. Wilhelmina drew a hand across her brow, feeling dizzy. “Er – thank you,” she managed faintly.
“Wilhelmina?” Relief flooded her, turning her rubbery knees to mush and making it extremely unlikely that she would get up anytime soon. A human voice. Thank the –
Lucivar Yaslana closed the door to the indoor garden with a resounding and final click. She wondered if anyone would come if she scream – even if they hear her. May the Darkness be merciful. A soft whimper not unlike a sick kitten escaped before she clamped her lips shut.
“Wilhel – oh, there you are.” He frowned and she cringed. “Why are you on the floor?”
Was he angry? What should she do? Should she apologize? She shook her head, then nodded, then pointed at the tiger, wordlessly. She thought Lucivar’s mouth might have twitched a little.
“Ah. I see you’ve met Dejaal,” he said in a suspiciously bland voice.
“Dejaal? He has a –“ That struck her as impolite. She tried to get up and curtsey, but that was quite beyond her. She sufficed with a bowed hear and a murmured, “m’honored.”
Again she imagined Lucivar’s mouth twitched, but sure that was her imagination. Lucivar Yaslana was not a creature of amusement.
“Dejaal, might Wilhelmina and I speak without the constant supervision?”
*Someone has to keep an eye on her. You already have a witch to watch.*
She was quite certain she didn’t imagine the sudden choking sound Yaslana made.
“Dejaal,” he said in a slightly pained voice before throwing a sideways glance at her and falling silent. It was clear, however, from the tiger’s confused expression, that there was still a conversation going on.
She began to feel a bit grumpy, and was on the point of opening her mouth to say something, when two male pairs of eyes turned to her. She closed her mouth and swallowed, the brief burst of courage evaporating.
*Good afternoon, Lady,* Dejaal said, solemnly, examining her with his unnervingly intelligent eyes. *If Yas is bothering you, yell and I will tackle him for you.*
“Dejaal, out,” Lucivar said sternly, and his batlike wings flared, but she could feel his amusement, and the urge to crawl under the nearby bench lessened. The tiger got up, padded to the door, and jumped through the wall as though it were made of water. As soon as the tip of his tail vanished, Lucivar looked back at her.
He frowned again, and she winced. “You’re still on the floor,” he said, as if surprised.
“I…am,” Wilhelmina agreed weakly.
She was sure she imagined the brief flash in his eyes. Why would Lucivar Yaslana be concerned for her? “Let me help you up.”
She found herself upright. His hands were very strong and warm, calloused from hard work. She remembered, unbidden, the stories she’d heard about Yaslana – witches torn apart, horribly mutilated if they were unlucky enough to survive him. That’s what they said about Daemon, too, a treacherous voice whispered. Will you believe them or Jaenelle? Still, she pulled away as quickly as she dared. H let go of her hands and stepped back, his distance respectful, a little wary and something else. But surely it wasn’t what she thought it was. Yaslana nervous around her? The very idea was laughable.
“Thank you,” she murmured, belatedly.
“You’re welcome.” He sounded amused again. Why was he amused? “Exploring the Hall, I see?”
“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to!” She burst out, wringing her hands. “I just – wanted –to go …” She trailed off. Lucivar had his head tilted to the side and was scrutinizing her in what could only be a suspicious manner. She quailed.
“What’s the matter?” He asked in a mildly dangerous voice.
“It’s nothing,” she hastened to assure him, “Really nothing, I was just – didn’t want to intrude – I’ll go now, I’m sorry,” she said and started to get up.
“Stay where you are!” he bellowed. She stayed. Lucivar looked at her narrowly.
“Who told you you can’t come here?”
Wilhelmina shook her head and tried to unglue her jaw. “No one,” she squeaked. “I just thought –“
“Okay. And what are you apologizing for, anyway?”
She hesitated, stared at him helplessly. Lucivar stared back at her. There was a long silence. He sighed, heavily.
“All right, so what’s the matter?”
She shook her head, stubbornly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing my ass. I know an upset witch when I see one. So what’s wrong? Has someone been bothering you? One of the new males being a prick?”
Wilhelmina closed her mouth tightly and looked down. His gaze was unnervingly direct. He wasn’t acting how she expected him to. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it was a bother. Spit it out. Jaenelle will beat the shit out of me if she hears that I’m not taking care of her sister.”
Wilhelmina almost flinched, cringing into herself.
“Oh – damn.” He sounded – embarrassed. She dared to look at him. He’d knelt to her level, and now he rocked back on his heels and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Now I’ve frightened you, right? I forgot you’re not one of the coven…”
Wilhelmina twitched. “But that’s it! I’m not and nobody likes me and I just don’t fit in here and you’re all going to send me back I just know it…”
Lucivar rocked back and stared at her, seeming stunned. “Who doesn’t like you? I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like you. And you’re not going anywhere.
Wilhelmina sniffed, starting to cry. “Everyone. Aaron and Morghann and Chaosti…and you don’t like me either,” she accused.
A frown. “Aaron and Chaosti look at everyone like that, with the possible exception of sometimes their wives, and the witches…they might be a little overbearing, but they’re just afraid of scaring you.” He half smiled, and it warmed his eyes a little. “You look like a strong wind might blow you over, and most of the witches are a bit more than a strong wind.” A pause, and he got to his feet. “Let me guess. You’ve heard the stories, I bet. Probably every single one more than once.”
Wilhelmina ducked her head, feeling suddenly ashamed. Perhaps it’s the weariness in his voice, the dry bitterness in his undertone. He did seem so…well, nice.
“Most of the stories are probably true. But you know nothing of what it was like.” He looked back at her, and she had to meet his eyes. Looking away wasn’t an option, not with the fury and sadness staring her baldly in the face. “Witches break. It’s harder to break males. And they didn’t want to, either. It would have ruined their games.” He snarled.
She stared at him, wide eyed, feeling trapped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, hoarsely.
“I don’t kill witches for fun. I killed them because every last one of them was a bitch, a liar, and a pathetic excuse for a witch. I was ashamed to have to serve them. Submitting to them wasn’t an option.”
Wilhelmina cringed. His voice was so hard and dangerous. “I-didn’t realize,” she said in a small voice, looking away from him. She heard him sigh.
“Yeah, I know. Just – don’t look at me like that, okay? I’ve had enough of frightened witches to last me a lifetime.” A slightly haunted edge to his expression. “And it sets my temper on edge, as well as every other male’s. We don’t react well to a witch’s fear.”
“I’m not really a witch,” Wilhelmina said, impulsively, “Not like the witches here, I’m not like them. I’m weak and timid and –“
“Liar,” he accused her, flatly. She shut her mouth and stared at him, floored.
“What?”
“You’re not timid. You’re nervous, but you’re not timid. If you were timid, you wouldn’t have survived as long as you have. Same goes for weak.” He paused, tilted his head to the side. “Jaenelle accepted you here. That’s all that matters. As soon as you relax and stop twitching at every little noise, you’ll be just fine.”
Wilhelmina looked down, feeling shamed by his kindness. “It’s like I’m – I dunno, marked or something,” she whispered. “People don’t even want to look at me. I feel like they – like they blame me for – for what happened to Jaenelle.” She cringed, drew into herself, so used to the blame that she expected him to accuse her as well.
Lucivar sighed and closed his eyes. “Everyone blames themselves for what happened to Jaenelle. You. Me. Saetan. Daemon.”
“What’s the matter with Daemon?” Wilhelmina asked, boldly. “He’s so different and he won’t look at me straight…”
“Ah,” said Lucivar, and watching his face, she could see his eyes close off, lines settling more deeply on his face, lines of worry and sorrow. “Daemon.” He fell silent.
She asked no further. The water was the only sound for a long time.
Lucivar looked back at her. “You better now?”
Wilhelmina nodded, a little, though she wasn’t at all sure of that.
His smile was lopsided, dry, almost cautious. “Just show us a backbone. That, we know how to deal with. I know it’s there somewhere.”
“That’s what S-your father said,” Wilhelmina said, feeling strange saying that. But it was less strange than saying Saetan. Or the High Lord of Hell. “I guess I can try…”
“You do that.” He looked distant. “Not everyone’s Jaenelle, Wilhelmina. Comparing isn’t fair, but if I were to –“ He paused, tilting his head and looking at her. “I can see her in you. She touched you, too. And that means that you belong here.” He stood up, his wings rustling, and looked toward the door. “I have to go.”
Wilhelmina bit her lip, staring at him, bewildered and more than a little confused. “All right,” she said, cautiously.
“I’ll see you later, Wilhelmina. And hopefully next time you won’t be on the floor.” He turned away and paused for a moment. “You know, I think Dejaal’s taken a liking to you. And letting him show you around will give you a feel for the place, and you can meet the rest of the kindred.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes grew very wide. “Really?”
Lucivar smiled his lopsided half smile. “Really. Just ask him. He’d love to show off that he gets to watch one of the Lady’s witches. Not many of the kindred do.”
Wilhelmina laughed, carefully. Lucivar started for the door, then paused, his hand on the handle.
“I know what it’s like to feel that kind of guilt.” Then he was gone.
Wilhelmina stared at her hands, straightened, and cautiously sent out a message on a psychic thread.
*Dejaal? Do you think I could talk to you?*
Title: Dancing
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Daemon Sadi, Jaenelle Angelline
Prompt: 005. Lost Haven
Word Count: 1522
Rating: PG to be safe
Summary: Daemon has a rare night alone. Or so he thinks.
It was a rare moment of silence for Daemon, alone in the library. Alexandra and Leland had gone into town with Phillip and the girls, and Bobby was also off somewhere, thank the Darkness. But that also meant that Jaenelle was gone, and hence the book open in his lap was only a pretense as he sat and drank in the dark psychic scent of her and wished –
He jolted upright with a growl. Something had touched his shoulder. A whisper of wind blew through the window. The room was utterly silent. He settled back with a sigh, golden eyes slightly narrowed. This place…
Someone tapped his shoulder. His head swiveled around and promptly his other shoulder was tapped. He surged to his feet with a snarl, casting about, his golden eyes chilly. But his keen ears caught a sound at the same moment that a tantalizing brush against his mind set nerves taut and tense. A silvery giggle and that psychic scent, so very, very dark.
The golden eyes changed and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Bending down, Daemon picked up the book, folded a page slowly, and waited. This time, straining his ears, he heard the soft whisper of sound the moment before someone tweaked his nose and his ears and then vanished with a few more notes of laughter. Look appropriately indignant, Daemon stalked to the middle of the room, hands on his hips, staring about with narrowed eyes, his every sense straining for her next approach.
He can hear a soft laugh and another brush of her mind, and a moment later he wheeled and snatched at apparently empty air. Jaenelle yelped in surprise and appeared abruptly, flailing as Daemon scooped her up to eye level and gave her a raised eyebrow stare.
“Well. Look what I’ve found running about.”
Jaenelle scowled at him, and Daemon’s answering laugh was low and rich. She pushed at his chest. “Let me go, Prince,” she said imperiously, but he could see the laughter in her bright blue eyes.
He tweaked her nose playfully. “Nuh uh. Not until I get an explanation for why you’re here when I saw you leave just a bit ago.”
She made a face. “I didn’t want to go. You didn’t go.”
“I’m not a family member,” Daemon commented dryly.
Jaenelle treated him to a stern frown. “I didn’t want to go, so I didn’t,” she repeated. A little bitterness crept into her voice. “They won’t notice the different anyway.”
Daemon gave her a long look, then ruffled her hair. “Well. There goes my quiet evening, I guess. When did you learn that little trick?”
“The shadows?”
“No, the other one.”
“Oh, this one?” And abruptly he was holding a very solid bundle of air. Daemon yelped and tightened his arms, but she flickered back into view in only a moment and grinned at him. “It’s not hard,” she says. “I just kind of pluck the threads and weave myself out of them. Like covering me with a rug.”
Daemon stared at her. “You do what?”
She gives him a narrow-eyed look. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“-not wrong, just…rather differently than most people.”
She looks excited. “Will you teach me the normal way?”
Daemon gives her a stern look. “Only if you make a very serious promise.”
Jaenelle looks back at him, eyes wide. “What?”
“You’ll do something fun with me afterward.”
Jaenelle giggles. “Of course I will, silly. I would have anyway. Now put me down and teach me how to make things invisible your way.”
She picked up on the sight shield in a few moments, and from there they moved on to auditory shields. Once she had mastered that he breathed a sigh of relief and gave her a look. Jaenelle’s face was shining and bright, her eyes thrilled.
“All right,” he said quickly, a little worried about the calculating look in her eyes. “Time for the fun, okay?”
She bounced on her toes. “What kind of fun?”
“That’s up to you, dear. Preferably something that doesn’t involve bodily injury, though.”
She pondered for a few moments. Then her face colors and she begins shuffling her feet. “Daemon? I had an idea – but you can say no if you want to – it’s just an idea,” she finishes in a mutter, her face bright red.
Intrigued but a little nervous, Daemon tilted his head. “Yes?”
“-will you dance with me?”
He threw back his head and laughed. Then, realizing that she might misinterpret it, he looked back at her and bowed low, offering a hand. “Certainly, Lady. I never pass up an opportunity to dance with a Lady.”
Jaenelle blushed, rather copiously, and set her small, pale hand in his. “I’m not a Lady yet.”
Daemon kissed the top of her hand lightly and allowed himself to meet her eyes, those glorious, far too old eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, you were a Lady the moment you took your first breath. Lady Jaenelle.”
“Hush,” She said firmly, and tugged him in the direction of the dancing room. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“A Prince’s first duty to his Lady,” Daemon quipped, and she turned around and gave him a very curious look. It was only then that he realized what he had said. His Lady.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but Jaenelle beat him to it.
“And it’s a Lady’s duty to remind her Prince that he said they were going to dance.”
“Right you are, Lady.” He said, after a brief pause, and allowed himself to be tugged again. It was only when they reached the ballroom by a route that involved more than a few twists and turns that she paused, and frowned.
“What are we going to do for music?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Daemon informed her, amused. “Do you have a favorite dance?”
She pondered. “You pick.”
“All right.” It took him only a moment to key in the spell, and the notes began playing eerily out of nowhere, the first steps to a very old court dance. “Do you know this one?”
Jaenelle was tilting her head, listening closely. “I…think so,” she said hesitantly. “Correct me if I’m dancing wrong, though, I could be thinking of a different one.”
Daemon blinked at her, startled, then recovered. She was, after all Jaenelle. He had to expect to be surprised. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Lady.”
She laughed and moved, setting a hand against his raised palm and resting her other hand on his shoulder, though she had to strain to reach. He tried his best not to laugh, but from the dirty look she briefly shot him, he didn’t manage to keep his amusement from her.
“One, two, three,” she said primly, and started dancing.
It was the right dance, though the way she danced it was not like anyone else he’d ever seen. It was faster in some places, slower in others. Going through the same motions, Jaenelle was nonetheless far more graceful than any other witch he could have imagined or had seen, gliding across the floor with such fluidity that all he could do was follow, their hands barely touching, her hand on his shoulder cool even through his jacket. He kept his hands loose, not holding her down, trying not to touch her, afraid of frightening her, but when his hand touched her waist briefly, she didn’t even flinch, just kept dancing, her lips moving slightly to keep the beat and her eyes focused on her feet, looking up at him only every so often and giving him a shy smile. She was such a delight to watch that he almost wished he could step out of himself and see the two of them moving across the floor – or just watch her dance alone.
He barely registered the soft noise intruding on their moments, but she did. She stumbled and stopped, feet dragging clumsily to a half, looking towards the door. A wind blew through the room, toying with Daemon’s trousers and a wisp of Jaenelle’s golden hair. He could see her eyes, suddenly deep sapphire and very far away, and full of unhappiness. “Oh,” she murmured softly, and then turned to Daemon. She curtseyed, hardly wobbling at all, her eyes once more lowered self-consciously to the floor, retreating back into herself.
“I’m sorry, Prince. This has been lovely.”
“Wait,” he said, feeling childishly abandoned. “What’s the matter?”
He heard it; the slam of a door, the grating tones of Robert Benedict’s voice intruding in the peace of their dance floor. He turned back to look at Jaenelle, but she wasn’t looking at him, hardly even seemed to know he was there.
“Lady,” he began, and she vanished without a sound. He closed his mouth and eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. His Queen was gone again.
He stayed in the ballroom for a long while, the tune still playing softly, like an abandoned wind. Daemon listened to something else entirely, breathing deeply of her psychic scent full of unusual joy that still played in echoes through the room.
Title: Long Time Gone
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Lucivar Yaslana, Luthvian
Prompt: 078. Different
Word Count: 1,086
Rating: PG for safety
Summary: Lucivar never feels quite easy around his mother.
Lucivar stood uneasily at the door, staring at it with something of reluctance in his bearing. The surroundings were beautiful and peaceful, but he could not feel easy, not here. He opened and closed his membranous wings once, looked around, sighed, raised his hand and knocked once, briskly.
It was only a moment to open the door, perhaps the time it might take to smooth hair and skirt or to check one’s expression again in the mirror. Her face was, as usual, glad to see him, smiling, but with the strange, cold distance in the tightness around her mouth and the lines by her eyes.
“Hello, Lucivar,” she said, too brightly. “Come in.”
She stepped back to let him in. He had to maneuver awkwardly, ducking to get through the door, and he wondered if it was that low purposefully, to make it difficult for Eyriens to get in. Her kitchen was brightly lit and spotlessly clean as always. He wished that she didn’t do that. It made him feel like a spot of dirt among all the gleaming surfaces.
“Hello, Luthvian.” He bowed carefully, from the waist. “I trust you have been well?”
She turned away for only a moment, ostensibly to fetch a bowl that had been sitting on the counter, but when she turned back, he could see the familiar adjustment that closed out his wings. He tried not to feel hurt, just as he did every other visit. “Yes, thank you. The students have been a bit slow lately.”
He flinched, tensing suddenly. “The students? Are they here?” The students meant witches, and the witches meant Roxie. He tightened his jaw and tried not to stand up and leave automatically.
The look Luthvian gave him was full of disapproval and anger as she pursed her lips. “No, they are not. I sent them home before you came,” she informed him in tones that said as clear as day how great an inconvenience this was.
He breathed again. “Thank you.”
There was a silence that lasted for a while. Lucivar was thirsty, but he knew better than to ask for water, and he didn’t want to get it himself lest she thought he was turning his back on her. He shifted, tried to keep his wings still.
They spoke at the same time, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence. “What have you been up to?” Luthvian asked at the same time Lucivar said, reluctantly, “You don’t have to send them away every time.” Just Roxie, he added silently. If you just send Roxie away.
Luthvian laughed, but it was forced. “Oh, no, Lucivar. I won’t hear of it. I know how uncomfortable you are around my students.”
And why? Lucivar thought silently, almost bitterly. Because you listened to Zuultaah’s lies and turned your son over to hell. Another slight silence until Luthvian repeated her question with forced cheerfulness.
“And what have you been up to?”
Lucivar tried for a smile. “Not much.” Looking for Daemon, always. Getting to know the Coven. “Just a bit of work around the house, making sure Jaenelle stays out of trouble, spending some time with –“
He stopped.
Your father. The words hung unsaid. He sensed Luthvian’s withdrawal as she stood up and went over to the cabinet, fiddling with the handles.
“And…that’s been all right?” She asked in a tense, terse voice. He could hear the hunger in it, the longing, and could almost pity her. But it wasn’t enough to forget what her gullibility had put him through.
“I feel better than I’ve felt in years,” he said savagely, fiercely, and honestly. “At least I’m actually doing something worthwhile rather than being a –“
-pleasure slave. What you made me.
Luthvian turned and stared at him, wounded and too proud to admit it. He looked back at her, guilt warring with the bitter anger that had lingered for far too long to ever really be forgotten or forgiven.
“Everything has to be about that, doesn’t it?” Luthvian said airily. “You just can’t accept that it’s in the past now, and that it was as much his fault as mine-“
“Liar,” Lucivar said flatly, and she flushed brightly.
“He’s turned you against me! Made you just like him,” she said with disgust.
Lucivar shook his head, stood up. “I’d rather be like him a thousand times over than you. At least Saetan I can be proud of. And he’s proud of me.”
The name, as always, hit her hard. She nearly staggered, staring at him with something between hatred and disbelief. Lucivar turned to go.
“Wait – Lucivar, I’m sorry. Do we always have to fight like this?”
He turned around, looked at her, and sighed, closing his golden eyes. “No, we don’t. But we do nonetheless. Maybe I shouldn’t –“
“No,” she said firmly. “Come back in a week. Next time it will be better. We just need to talk about something other than –“
-him.
She paused, then continued. “I want to know you, Lucivar.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Luthvian.”
She came over and touched his arm, just lightly. He flinched anyway. “Be careful. You’re still vulnerable, you know.”
“I know,” he said softly, “Jaenelle told me.” Jaenelle, who kept my wings when you wanted to be rid of them. Jaenelle, who gave me back my life in my wings, the life that you cut out of the picture every time I come here.
She paused, and for a moment, Lucivar thought she might embrace him – for a moment, he thought he might bend and kiss her cheek and wish her farewell. The moment passed quickly and she turned away.
“Next week, then?” She said briskly, formally, already looking around the kitchen, preparing for what she would do as soon as he was out the door.
He looked at her back and nodded, slowly. “Next week,” he said softly, and strode out the door, not bothering to open it but simply passing through the walls. He looked back once he was outside the cottage and sighed, heavily, before opening his wings and heading for SaDiablo Hall.
He was hoping that the witches would be there – one witch in particular, to soothe his frazzled nerves. They were always raw after visits with Luthvian.
Next week, perhaps, things would be better. Maybe next week Saetan wouldn’t come up. Maybe next week there wouldn’t be blame and bitterness and pride. Maybe.
But it was a very slim chance.
He didn’t even know why he bothered to continue to come.
Title: A Little Lost
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Wilhelmina, Lucivar
Prompt: 009. Branded
Word Count: 2103
Rating: PG for language
Summary: Wilhelmina is feeling a bit alone, and meets Lucivar Yaslana. She learns a few things.
Wilhelmina wandered despondently.
Jaenelle was busy, and besides, she was different now – sometimes Wilhelmina found herself selfishly wishing for the sister she knew, the one who was shy and quiet and friendless, back when it had been just them. But then, she thought, that wasn’t true. Jaenelle had always had a family that meant more to her than one flighty, nervous older sister.
She didn’t belong here. She didn’t feel right among these witches – real witches, not the pale shadows she knew from home. Karla and Morghann and Gabrielle scared her with their fierce boldness that Wilhelmina could not hope to match; and though Kalush seemed nice, Aaron frightened her with his wary gray eyes and barely sheathed temper. It would have been nice to see Daemon, but even he was different. And of course, there was Lucivar Yaslana. It was as though she had “Terreille” stamped on her forehead; or “avoid me” branded across her face. But more than anything, she was terrified that they would send her back.
She wouldn’t go!
*Lady, what are you doing?*
Wilhelmina jumped and yelped, looking for the owner of that voice. Something was strange about it, but she couldn’t decide what. She found herself in a lush indoor garden, verdantly green, the soft sound of water over stone the only movement until something twitched at the corner of her eye. She turned quickly to apologize for intruding, and had to stifle a scream.
Her first thought was that he was enormous. He sprawled on the flagstone under a red-berried bush, lashing his tail and staring at her with curiously intelligent eyes.
*Yes?* The voice was edged with rich amusement, and this time the source was clear. The tiger was talking to her.
She sat down hard, and just stared, feeling a strong and rather dangerous urge to laugh.
*I will not eat you. You are one of the Lady’s humans.*
The Lady? Oh. Jaenelle. Wilhelmina drew a hand across her brow, feeling dizzy. “Er – thank you,” she managed faintly.
“Wilhelmina?” Relief flooded her, turning her rubbery knees to mush and making it extremely unlikely that she would get up anytime soon. A human voice. Thank the –
Lucivar Yaslana closed the door to the indoor garden with a resounding and final click. She wondered if anyone would come if she scream – even if they hear her. May the Darkness be merciful. A soft whimper not unlike a sick kitten escaped before she clamped her lips shut.
“Wilhel – oh, there you are.” He frowned and she cringed. “Why are you on the floor?”
Was he angry? What should she do? Should she apologize? She shook her head, then nodded, then pointed at the tiger, wordlessly. She thought Lucivar’s mouth might have twitched a little.
“Ah. I see you’ve met Dejaal,” he said in a suspiciously bland voice.
“Dejaal? He has a –“ That struck her as impolite. She tried to get up and curtsey, but that was quite beyond her. She sufficed with a bowed hear and a murmured, “m’honored.”
Again she imagined Lucivar’s mouth twitched, but sure that was her imagination. Lucivar Yaslana was not a creature of amusement.
“Dejaal, might Wilhelmina and I speak without the constant supervision?”
*Someone has to keep an eye on her. You already have a witch to watch.*
She was quite certain she didn’t imagine the sudden choking sound Yaslana made.
“Dejaal,” he said in a slightly pained voice before throwing a sideways glance at her and falling silent. It was clear, however, from the tiger’s confused expression, that there was still a conversation going on.
She began to feel a bit grumpy, and was on the point of opening her mouth to say something, when two male pairs of eyes turned to her. She closed her mouth and swallowed, the brief burst of courage evaporating.
*Good afternoon, Lady,* Dejaal said, solemnly, examining her with his unnervingly intelligent eyes. *If Yas is bothering you, yell and I will tackle him for you.*
“Dejaal, out,” Lucivar said sternly, and his batlike wings flared, but she could feel his amusement, and the urge to crawl under the nearby bench lessened. The tiger got up, padded to the door, and jumped through the wall as though it were made of water. As soon as the tip of his tail vanished, Lucivar looked back at her.
He frowned again, and she winced. “You’re still on the floor,” he said, as if surprised.
“I…am,” Wilhelmina agreed weakly.
She was sure she imagined the brief flash in his eyes. Why would Lucivar Yaslana be concerned for her? “Let me help you up.”
She found herself upright. His hands were very strong and warm, calloused from hard work. She remembered, unbidden, the stories she’d heard about Yaslana – witches torn apart, horribly mutilated if they were unlucky enough to survive him. That’s what they said about Daemon, too, a treacherous voice whispered. Will you believe them or Jaenelle? Still, she pulled away as quickly as she dared. H let go of her hands and stepped back, his distance respectful, a little wary and something else. But surely it wasn’t what she thought it was. Yaslana nervous around her? The very idea was laughable.
“Thank you,” she murmured, belatedly.
“You’re welcome.” He sounded amused again. Why was he amused? “Exploring the Hall, I see?”
“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to!” She burst out, wringing her hands. “I just – wanted –to go …” She trailed off. Lucivar had his head tilted to the side and was scrutinizing her in what could only be a suspicious manner. She quailed.
“What’s the matter?” He asked in a mildly dangerous voice.
“It’s nothing,” she hastened to assure him, “Really nothing, I was just – didn’t want to intrude – I’ll go now, I’m sorry,” she said and started to get up.
“Stay where you are!” he bellowed. She stayed. Lucivar looked at her narrowly.
“Who told you you can’t come here?”
Wilhelmina shook her head and tried to unglue her jaw. “No one,” she squeaked. “I just thought –“
“Okay. And what are you apologizing for, anyway?”
She hesitated, stared at him helplessly. Lucivar stared back at her. There was a long silence. He sighed, heavily.
“All right, so what’s the matter?”
She shook her head, stubbornly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing my ass. I know an upset witch when I see one. So what’s wrong? Has someone been bothering you? One of the new males being a prick?”
Wilhelmina closed her mouth tightly and looked down. His gaze was unnervingly direct. He wasn’t acting how she expected him to. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it was a bother. Spit it out. Jaenelle will beat the shit out of me if she hears that I’m not taking care of her sister.”
Wilhelmina almost flinched, cringing into herself.
“Oh – damn.” He sounded – embarrassed. She dared to look at him. He’d knelt to her level, and now he rocked back on his heels and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Now I’ve frightened you, right? I forgot you’re not one of the coven…”
Wilhelmina twitched. “But that’s it! I’m not and nobody likes me and I just don’t fit in here and you’re all going to send me back I just know it…”
Lucivar rocked back and stared at her, seeming stunned. “Who doesn’t like you? I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like you. And you’re not going anywhere.
Wilhelmina sniffed, starting to cry. “Everyone. Aaron and Morghann and Chaosti…and you don’t like me either,” she accused.
A frown. “Aaron and Chaosti look at everyone like that, with the possible exception of sometimes their wives, and the witches…they might be a little overbearing, but they’re just afraid of scaring you.” He half smiled, and it warmed his eyes a little. “You look like a strong wind might blow you over, and most of the witches are a bit more than a strong wind.” A pause, and he got to his feet. “Let me guess. You’ve heard the stories, I bet. Probably every single one more than once.”
Wilhelmina ducked her head, feeling suddenly ashamed. Perhaps it’s the weariness in his voice, the dry bitterness in his undertone. He did seem so…well, nice.
“Most of the stories are probably true. But you know nothing of what it was like.” He looked back at her, and she had to meet his eyes. Looking away wasn’t an option, not with the fury and sadness staring her baldly in the face. “Witches break. It’s harder to break males. And they didn’t want to, either. It would have ruined their games.” He snarled.
She stared at him, wide eyed, feeling trapped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, hoarsely.
“I don’t kill witches for fun. I killed them because every last one of them was a bitch, a liar, and a pathetic excuse for a witch. I was ashamed to have to serve them. Submitting to them wasn’t an option.”
Wilhelmina cringed. His voice was so hard and dangerous. “I-didn’t realize,” she said in a small voice, looking away from him. She heard him sigh.
“Yeah, I know. Just – don’t look at me like that, okay? I’ve had enough of frightened witches to last me a lifetime.” A slightly haunted edge to his expression. “And it sets my temper on edge, as well as every other male’s. We don’t react well to a witch’s fear.”
“I’m not really a witch,” Wilhelmina said, impulsively, “Not like the witches here, I’m not like them. I’m weak and timid and –“
“Liar,” he accused her, flatly. She shut her mouth and stared at him, floored.
“What?”
“You’re not timid. You’re nervous, but you’re not timid. If you were timid, you wouldn’t have survived as long as you have. Same goes for weak.” He paused, tilted his head to the side. “Jaenelle accepted you here. That’s all that matters. As soon as you relax and stop twitching at every little noise, you’ll be just fine.”
Wilhelmina looked down, feeling shamed by his kindness. “It’s like I’m – I dunno, marked or something,” she whispered. “People don’t even want to look at me. I feel like they – like they blame me for – for what happened to Jaenelle.” She cringed, drew into herself, so used to the blame that she expected him to accuse her as well.
Lucivar sighed and closed his eyes. “Everyone blames themselves for what happened to Jaenelle. You. Me. Saetan. Daemon.”
“What’s the matter with Daemon?” Wilhelmina asked, boldly. “He’s so different and he won’t look at me straight…”
“Ah,” said Lucivar, and watching his face, she could see his eyes close off, lines settling more deeply on his face, lines of worry and sorrow. “Daemon.” He fell silent.
She asked no further. The water was the only sound for a long time.
Lucivar looked back at her. “You better now?”
Wilhelmina nodded, a little, though she wasn’t at all sure of that.
His smile was lopsided, dry, almost cautious. “Just show us a backbone. That, we know how to deal with. I know it’s there somewhere.”
“That’s what S-your father said,” Wilhelmina said, feeling strange saying that. But it was less strange than saying Saetan. Or the High Lord of Hell. “I guess I can try…”
“You do that.” He looked distant. “Not everyone’s Jaenelle, Wilhelmina. Comparing isn’t fair, but if I were to –“ He paused, tilting his head and looking at her. “I can see her in you. She touched you, too. And that means that you belong here.” He stood up, his wings rustling, and looked toward the door. “I have to go.”
Wilhelmina bit her lip, staring at him, bewildered and more than a little confused. “All right,” she said, cautiously.
“I’ll see you later, Wilhelmina. And hopefully next time you won’t be on the floor.” He turned away and paused for a moment. “You know, I think Dejaal’s taken a liking to you. And letting him show you around will give you a feel for the place, and you can meet the rest of the kindred.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes grew very wide. “Really?”
Lucivar smiled his lopsided half smile. “Really. Just ask him. He’d love to show off that he gets to watch one of the Lady’s witches. Not many of the kindred do.”
Wilhelmina laughed, carefully. Lucivar started for the door, then paused, his hand on the handle.
“I know what it’s like to feel that kind of guilt.” Then he was gone.
Wilhelmina stared at her hands, straightened, and cautiously sent out a message on a psychic thread.
*Dejaal? Do you think I could talk to you?*
