![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
df_prompts post coming up...eventually...? I actually did homework today! Title: Rain
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Jaenelle, Rose, a bit of Daemon
Prompt: 079. Rain
Word Count: 442
Rating: PG
Warnings: Just a lot of angst.
Summary: After Rose's death, Jaenelle has business to attend to.
It wasn’t the rain that woke Jaenelle late; neither was it the distant howling from the hills. The rain on the windows sounded to her like fingernails, tapping impatiently on the window and roof. She listened, eyes closed, for a few more moments of peace.
No sound had woken her, only an awareness that now was the time. She rolled out of bed silently and walked to the window. Passing through it was easy, and she jumped to the ground, curling her toes into the soil. It was damp, soft and cool on her bare feet. The rain tapped her shoulder insistently, already soaking through her nightgown and reminding her of why she was here.
Jaenelle ghosted through the garden to the little alcove of witchblood. It scratched her arms and she reached to the back and tugged a single pod, blood red, free of its stem. “Sorry,” she murmured, standing up slowly. Rain dripped on her nose and she stepped into the Darkness.
A shudder ran up her spine as she looked at the stone walls, wreathed in green. Briarwood…she twitched of the fears like the rain in her hair and strode forward, dropping to her knees by a seemingly unmarked patch of ground and beginning to dig.
The dirt stuck beneath her fingernails, even after they broke and bled on the rocky layer beneath the topsoil. She clawed a pit in the earth with her bare hands, the damp from the wet ground soaking through her nightgown until she could feel the grit on her knees.
She didn’t cry until she finished, sitting up after the seed was buried, to bloom another year. Tears cutting through the dirt on her cheeks, she opened her mouth and mourned.
Keening, she stood slowly, the words from deep within pouring into the sky in a flood of emotion.
“Mother Night, what is that?”
The voices, the hateful voices. Rage overflowed in her stomach and she could feel the desire, the need to rise and obliterate them to less than a spark in the Darkness. She trembled between fury and fear, staring as they ran for her, stumbling in the dark.
*Not yet. Not yet.* The voice was soft, but it broke the ice around her and she gasped on shuddering breath of recognition –
-*Rose*-
- before she leapt into the Darkness, leaving Briarwood behind.
She cried, continuing her interrupted song as she wended her way out of the garden, shivering with the cold and wet. A window opened ahead and she looked up, staring bleak-eyed at Daemon, her hands beginning to sting. Her emotions were a hollow, thick knot in her chest.
“Jaenelle?”
Title: The Heart of Me
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Lucivar, Marian, a mention of Daemon
Prompt: 095. Need
Word Count: 829
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Implied stuff.
Summary: Marian dreams, sometimes. But she isn't the only one.
It was the same dream.
“You’re the payment, witchling.” His voice echoed, oddly. She knew it was a dream, but it was memory, too… she took off into the sky, fleeing. For where? The
Her breath came hard and fast. Soon, soon, Jaenelle would be here and it would be over. But Jaenelle did not come, did not come, did not – “NO MOTHER NIGHT PLEASE NO” –
She woke up with a scream as membranous wing brushed her shoulder and something shook her elbow gently. Automatically twisting away, the surge of bile and nausea in her stomach cut off as her throat closed.
“Marian. Marian!”
She registered that she was lying on a bed, not grass; that she could see stone walls; and the wail of a distressed and suddenly woken baby. She swallowed. “Sorry,” Marian whispered hoarsely, her throat feeling oddly dry.
Lucivar’s voice was heavy, weighted with sorrow and worry. “It’s all right. Take some deep breaths. I’ll take care of Daemonar.” The sheets rustled as he rolled over and got up, his feet making a soft noise on the floor.
She turned over and watched him bend and pick up his son, his low voice vibrating in her bones and soothing her even as Daemonar’s wails faded to choked sobs and then a peaceful, tired sigh. She closed her eyes as he came back and laid down beside her, the warm circle of his arms loose and unconfining, not crushing her wings as she’d seen many Eyrien males do. She knew why he held her so gently, carefully not bringing his body too close to hers; he knew what she had dreamed. But she wished he was closer so she could smell his soothing Lucivarness; feel his strength and know that he would use all of it to protect her. Listening to his breathing, when it was slow and even she snuggled into the curve of his body, resting her forehead on his broad, warm chest with a sigh.
“Do you want to talk?”
Marian jumped and started to move away, but decided against it. She sighed. “What is there to talk about?” She asked, wearily.
He shifted, and without looking she could picture his slightly exasperated expression. “This isn’t new, is it.”
She sighed again. It was easy to forget how closely he watched her, even when he wasn’t actively fussing. Now he wouldn’t let it go even if she promised she was all right. “No, not exactly…”
Marian could hear the frown in Lucivar’s voice. “Why haven’t you talked to Jaenelle?”
“It’s not that bad” –
Lucivar’s voice was soft, with an undertone of worry and anger only a few would notice. “It didn’t sound that way to me.” Marian blew air out of her nose, exasperated.
“It’s not usually that bad…” she said slowly. Lucivar brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead gently.
“Marian…”
“Lucivar,” she said as firmly as she could. “Don’t worry about me. It was just a dream.”
“Just a…” A very loud and pithy curse. “Bastards. Marian, if you keep dreaming about this-“
“I don’t need anything, Lucivar. It’s just dreams.”
“You think I don’t know what dreams can do?” Lucivar said harshly. Daemonar stirred and Lucivar dropped his voice. “Marian, I don’t want you to suffer.”
She felt a little spark flare at the reminder of what had been done to him and what he left unsaid – and always would – about his sleeping hours. “Lucivar,” she said gently, “I’ll be fine. I have you to protect me.”
Marian could feel the tension clenching his stomach muscles. “I can’t protect you from memories,” he said, softly.
“You don’t need to. As soon as I wake up, they’re gone. You don’t go away.”
Lucivar was silent for a time. She could hear him frowning.
“Any word of Daemon yet?” She asked, timidly.
Lucivar went limp, expelling a heavy sigh. “No.”
Marian turned over and embraced him, kissing his neck gently. “He’ll come.”
“I hope so.” His voice was heavy. “Jaenelle needs him.”
And you want to know that he’s alive, Marian added, silently.
“Marian,” he added after a pause. “Promise me when you dream…wake me.”
“I will.” She kissed him, feeling him breathe in her scent and relax. She wondered, cuddling close to her husband, for whose sake he asked. He wasn’t the only one woken by another’s dreams; though she would never tell him what she knew of his sleep. Lately, as well… it was hard, sometimes, listening to the bitterness in his voice when he dreamed of his brother, especially now with this interminable wait.
She hoped Daemon was found soon. For everyone’s sake.
Title: Promises
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Jaenelle, Karla
Prompt: 066. Midnight
Word Count: 1117
Rating: PG
Summary: Karla and Jaenelle have a chance to talk, just before Winsol. They discuss promises and safety, and Karla is worried.
Karla watched the sun sink toward the horizon, humming to herself. It flashed on the snow of the peaks, turning the pure, blue waters of the glacial lake below to gold. For anyone else it would have been a stunningly beautiful sight, but Karla was indifferent, distracted by listening to the Webs, waiting, her hands tangling with each other in her lap where she perched on air. Her hair rose in spikes like the mountains around her, a halo of almost transparent white hair, her blue eyes a small spark of life in her pale, still face. Her feet swung back and forth almost absently in an impatient, childish motion.
“Kindred?” asked a small voice from the air.
“I serve,” Karla murmured, and bowed delicately. Jaenelle stepped out of the air and made a face at her.
“Where’d that come from?”
“Nowhere,” Karla said with a quick grin. “I just felt like tweaking your nose, that’s all.”
Jaenelle smiled and held out her arms for a hug. “Silly Karla.”
“That’s me.” She squeezed Jaenelle tightly and breathed in her psychic scent with relief for more than one of them. “How’re you, then?”
“Pretty good.” Jaenelle wrinkled her nose. “It’s funny. There’s a new Prince at the house. Wilhelmina likes him.”
Karla tilted her head. “Prince as in Warlord Prince?”
Jaenelle nodded. “Yeah. Daemon Sadi’s his name.”
“Wilhelmina likes him. What do you think?”
Jaenelle paused, considering. “He reminds me of Saetan.”
Karla waited.
“I don’t know!” Jaenelle added, a little petulantly. “He’s nice, I guess. He doesn’t like Leland and Alexandra.”
“Hmm,” Karla said, noncommittally.
Jaenelle flushed, oddly. Karla filed that away for reference. “What about you? How’s Morton?”
Karla glanced down, chewing her lip. “He’s gone again.
Jaenelle played with one ear, her gaze trained on Karla as she sat down on air next to her. “Talk to me.”
Karla’s mouth tightened to a little line and she retreated. “There’s not really anything new.”
Jaenelle was persistent, her voice gentle and insistent. “Then tell me what’s old.”
“They’re just – all over the place. I can’t get any peace. They keep wanting to read to me or play games with me.”
“How many of them wear darker Jewels than Sapphire?”
Karla’s mouth thinned more. “Enough.”
Jaenelle was silent for a moment before she put both her arms around Karla’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “I wish I could take you home with me.”
Karla forced a laugh. “I don’t think Alexandra would like that very much.”
“Well, you could go live with Saetan, then. I’d take you to see him. He’d take care of you.”
Karla tensed. “I don’t know.” She put her arms around Jaenelle, feeling how thin her friend was. “Why don’t you go?”
Jaenelle sighed. “I’ve told you. Wilhelmina.”
Karla sighed. “Right. And after she has her Offering…”
“Then I promise I’ll come to Kaeleer. All right? And then you and Gabrielle and Morghann and everyone can come and live with me. We’ll have a big house and the kindred will be there too.”
Karla sighed, but it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with her petite and powerful friend. She scratched her forehead. “Morton told me to say hello to you for him.”
Jaenelle smiled, but it was thin. “Say hello to him. Hopefully I’ll be able to see him soon. Did you have any trouble getting out today?”
“No.” She didn’t mention the trouble she’d be in when she got back; it would only worry Jaenelle, and Jaenelle didn’t need more to worry about. “It was fine. No one was watching.”
To Karla’s relief, Jaenelle said nothing about the lie Karla knew she could see through in a heartbeat. “I’m glad.” A pause. “Be careful, Karla.”
Karla forced another laugh, trying to sound brave. “Careful? Me? You know I’m Lady Cautious herself, always.”
Jaenelle didn’t laugh, looking at her seriously, her eyes a peculiar dark shade that Karla had only seen once or twice before. “Please. Be careful.”
Karla nodded, slowly. “Of what?”
“Of yourself.” Jaenelle’s eyes closed off, and Karla knew she would say no more. She bit her lip as the silence stretched out, looking at the fading light behind the mountains flashing off the ice.
“Jaenelle?” she said at last, in a small voice. “You’re careful of yourself, aren’t you?”
Jaenelle sighed a weary and hopeless sigh. “I’m as careful as I can be.”
“And you’ll…” she swallowed. “If you’re in trouble, you’ll call me, right? Like you made me promise to do?”
Silence. Karla snuck a look at her friend and saw her eyes, distant and unseeing.
“Jaenelle?”
A weary sigh. “I’m not going to get you hurt, Karla.”
“You made me promise.”
“That’s different.”
“Is not. Jaenelle, please.”
Jaenelle pulled away and scooted a foot away from Karla, looking out at the mountains, mouth set in a little frown and brow furrowed. Several moments passed and Karla fidgeted nervously.
“I’ll take care of myself, Karla.” She said at last. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“That wasn’t a promise.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Jaenelle stood up. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Karla jumped to her feet. “Jaenelle, no, I didn’t mean to make you angry. Don’t go. It’s not even sunset.”
Jaenelle looked at her, her eyes bleak. “Rose is dead. I need to finish the web.”
Karla blinked. “What?”
“I’m not angry, Karla,” the other witch said, softly. “I have to finish some things…Winsol is in a few nights, you know. Drink for me.”
Karla bit her lip, her eyes stinging at the bleak look in Jaenelle’s eyes. “You’ll come and see me after, right?”
Jaenelle’s smile trembled slightly at the corners, barely holding. “Of course I will.”
Karla nodded, slowly, reluctantly. “All right.” She hugged Jaenelle once more before stepping back. “Be careful.”
The smile did not touch those bleak, bleak sapphire eyes. “Who, me? Careful? You know I’m Lady Cautious herself…”
Karla laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Ha, ha,” she said dryly. “Cut that out.”
“Silly Karla.”
She sighed. “That’s me.”
Jaenelle held out a hand. Karla took it and felt the small squeeze and the surge of strength. “You’ll be all right,” Jaenelle murmured. “You’re a brave witch.” Then she was gone.
Karla stared out at the darkening sky, worrying. The strange knot of foreboding tightened in her shoulders and she rolled them, nervously.
Two weeks until Jaenelle came back. She’d begin counting down the days as soon as she was back home.
She caught the Opal wind home, staring out at the Darkness and trying to understand what that bleak look in Jaenelle’s eyes had meant.
Title: Whore
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Characters: Kartane SaDiablo, Dorothea
Prompt: 084. Hate
Word Count: 629
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He hates her utterly, but there is no getting away.
He hated her, hated her with everything in him.
He stood watching her warily where she lounged, legs crossed, tapping a white quill against her thigh. The motion made him nervous, as he knew it was meant to, and that knowledge made him angry. But not angry enough to overpower the fear. He fidgeted, watching the half-not-smile curving her lips fearfully. “What do you want?”
She laughed at his impatience, and he flushed. She leaned back and flicked the quill against her lips in what might have been a thoughtless gestures. “Want? Why, Kartane. Can’t your mother talk to her son without it being some sort of scheme?” The mocking in her voice on “mother” and “son” was hardly veiled at all. Kartane tasted bile and bit back disgust, face flaming with shame.
“Why, mother,” he said, as coolly as he could manage. “What a thing to say. You and I both know that it’s always some sort of scheme with you.”
The anger flashed and was gone as she forced a laugh. “Insolent boy. I ought to have you shaved.” Her eyes glinted as she swept the quill across her desk and stood up, her hand caressing the wood with familiar, sensual cruelty. He shivered.
“Then who would play with you?” he shot back, viciously.
“There are many pretty boys in Hayll,” she drawled languidly. “Perhaps I’ll bring Daemon back…you’d like that, wouldn’t you, dear?”
Kartane choked and swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t dare,” he forced out. “He’d kill you.”
Dorothea’s eyes glinted, smiling her cold, cold smile. “You think so?” Her voice was casual, careless. “Perhaps I’ll let him speak to you, first. I know you’ve yearned for a conversation.”
Kartane’s knees wobbled and he snatched at the nearest table before he crumpled, his teeth chattering once before he clenched them. “Bitch,” he spat.
Dorothea smiled and tsked, pausing to adjust some flowers in a vase on her blackwood desk. “Oh, Kartane. Such language. And about your mother.”
He said nothing, gritting his teeth. Dorothea looked at him and laughed. “So you are learning to keep your thoughts to yourself? Good…now, if only you could manage without making it look like you’ve swallowed a stone.”
“Perhaps if I had one of your witches to play with I’d be more pliable,” Kartane said, as sweetly as he could.
Dorothea seemed unperturbed. “They wouldn’t be to your liking. All far too old for your tastes, dearest.”
Kartane turned around and focused on the cabinet, face heating.
“You’re not ashamed, are you? Silly boy. I do hope you’re not embarrassed by your desires…like mother, like son, you see?”
Stubbornly, “I am not ashamed.”
The quill brushed across the back of his neck. “Good…shame is a mark of a weak male. Weak males have no need for their…” She waved the quill languidly toward his groin and he twitched away, face tightening. He thought of Daemon, briefly.
“Don’t even try, you whore,” he snapped, voice trembling only slightly.
Dorothea laughed, but he could hear the note of anger in it. “Be careful, now. Perhaps I won’t shave you. I’ll just fit a Ring for you. They’re very effective.”
Kartane shuddered. “I’d rather be shaved.”
The quill brushed across his neck like a knife, her other hand moving to his crotch. “As you wish, Kartane, dear. You have a fancy for the Brotherhood?”
Kartane shuddered and said nothing.
Dorothea tightened her hand around his neck, the quill tickling his eye. “Say it, dear. Tell me what you are.”
He let out a shuddery breath and snapped, bitterly, “I am your whore, mother.”
Kartane could feel her smile as she nibbled his earlobe, her breath hot. His skin rippled with disgust and he tensed under her roaming hands. “That’s right. And don’t forget it.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
Hey I've seen this before!
From:
Re: Hey I've seen this before!