The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

{Prologue | Part 1 | Interludes [1 2 3]| Part 2}

Interlude 1: Dreaming and Waking

He is dead

--the baby lies in pieces on the floor, such bright red ribbons bursting around his head like a halo, but why is he face down, shouldn't he be in momma's arms --

he has to be dead, with all the damage done. There's no point searching

--there's no point, no point at all, but he picks himself up again, the agony searing through his back and legs as he struggles to put weight on them, struggles to stand, to live, he'll die if he stays down, he'll die if--

or calling out, but she has to find

--air, she needs air, this was a mistake, she doesn't want to die, she doesn't want to die! Too late, too late, she can't hold it any longer, her lungs burn, she gasps for air but finds only unrelenting lakewater--

him, she has to make sure he's alright, she has to protect him

--screaming, screaming, blood coating her body, guts like ribbons dangling from the poor maid's body, the foul stench of excrement and blood and death, she can't stop screaming--

he belongs to her, he's the one thing that's hers, the one thing that means safety

--that little patch like a heart on his flank, that patch just the size of her hand on his neck, she knows this hide, knows every inch of it, has brushed it lovingly and cared for it for many years, and now he's gone, dead, skinned alive to punish her for the crime of trying to protect him--

and she's burning, burning, she can't stop thinking of him but it hurts, it hurts so much

--splitting her open, forced inside her, none of Bull's gentleness or his patience or his warming her up with his delightful tongue, just his cock, massive and unyielding with the spells Varisia's put on it, the ruin she's made of his front already healing due to the ring she's forced onto his finger, at the expense of his arm--

but she can't give up, she can't, she has to save him, one of them has to survive and it can't be his life for hers, it can't, she won't let it.

"Bull," she whimpers, fever raging despite the neutralize poison they've force-fed her, despite everything they've done to care for her. If the fever doesn't go down, the ship's healer warns, she might die, cooked in her own skull. She's woken for the first time under Zevran's watch, as he sponges her forehead gently with a rag dipped in cold water.

[Zevran]

"Coquette."

The name is a whisper, a prayer. Moving swiftly, he reaches for the goblet and vial on the beside before turning back to her. "Coquette, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" he begs softly, urgently.

[Coquette Blacquin]

She tries, but she's so cold, and her body feels a million miles away, so instead she just whimpers. "Bull, bull, please, where are you, I need you, Bull," she whimpers, shivering. 

He's gone, he'll never return, whispers the malevolent darkness in her mind. She's killed him. Nobody could have survived those wounds. 

[Zevran]

The taste of bile in his mouth, Zevran tries to sound soothing. "You're safe, we're free. We're away and we're free," he whispers. "Come now, I've more medicine for you. You've a fever and-- please, try to sip?"

[Isabela]

She doesn't speak again, but her lips remain parted; when he tries to pour a little of the medicine into her mouth, she obediently swallows, and soon descends into slumber again.

She wakes briefly when Isabela is watching as well, calling for Shisou this time, but quieting when she's told he's safe, it's alright. Then it's the healer's turn to sit with her, and Isabela comes out to find Zevran pacing the deck.

"Come get some sleep," she says quietly, reaching for his wrist. "You can share my bed, unless you'd rather I kick Thomas out of his cabin and back into the general bunkroom."

[Zevran]

"I--" Zevran falters, eyes closing-- must not be adjusting to the constant wind being on deck subjects one to, given how often he does that. "I will not be... fit company. I would sleep better for not being alone, but if I sleep takes me darkly, as it likely will..." He looks away, unable to accept and put her in such danger but unable to refuse the comfort she offers. 

[Isabela]

"Then I'll protect myself until you come back to me," she says quietly. "I know what you've been through must have been.... unimaginable. A hundred times worse than what I survived, and it went on for years. I expected... some ramifications of that. But I don't care. If there's anything I can do to help ease even a little of it, I will."

[Zevran]

"I'm an assassin, N-- Isabela," he swiftly corrects himself with a wince. "It-- with surprise, it can take but a moment to..." He shudders. "I would never forgive myself were I to..."

[Isabela]

"I'm a pirate. I'm rather harder to kill than you think." She hesitates, then adds, "Would a spar help?"

[Zevran]

Zevran hesitates, studying her carefully. "Mayhap, yes. But... Do you have magically non-lethal weapons or... something?" He flushes, shaking his head. "Sorry, I do not mean to make light if your skill or ability, I just--"

[Isabela]

"Sure. Are daggers okay, or I think I can scrounge up a mace?" Upon hearing the latter, she heads over to the ladder to the crow's nest and calls, "Yo, Suzi! Can I borrow your mace?"

She has to sidestep as the mace drops to the deck, though it doesn't do much damage despite falling a long way. She hefts it, nodding and calling a quick "Thanks!" before heading to hand it to him. 

"Merciful," she says, shrugging. "Suzi once killed a man and, well... she vowed never to do it again. Put her right off eating meat for a while, too, though she's added fish back in."

[Zevran]

Zevran gives it a heft, a couple of test swings, then nods slowly. "A bit strange to use a real weapon this... oversized, but it will suit our needs very well," he finally decides. He takes a slow breath, then offers a wan smile. "Thank you, Isabela of the Siren's Song."

[Isabela]

"That's Captain Isabela to you," she laughs. "Ready? On three..."

He surprises her, a few times. But she surprises him more and more. When they had last met, she was helpless; it was the worst night of her life, and she'd been powerless to stop what happened, much like Coquette had been just the day before. She'd barely known what to do with a knife; he'd had to correct her grip, show her how to hold it properly. Now she fights well, and she fights dirty: at one point, she kicks dust into his eyes, slips around behind him, and stabs him from behind with a merciful dagger that still knocks the wind out of him. Usually that trick doesn't work so well on him, but her execution is masterful, and he can't see it coming in time to stop it. 

When finally they are spent, exhausted, they come to a rest with Zevran pinning Isabela down, one hand on each of her wrist to stop her using her blades, his legs locked around hers. So she does the only sensible thing left: she leans up, quick as a wink, and plants a kiss on his lips. 

[Zevran]

Alas, this isn't the Zevran of a decade ago; when she comes in for the kiss, his instincts read it as an attack. Just as quick as her kiss, he tilts his head and grabs her lower lip in his teeth. There's blood in their mouths before he stops himself a split second before he'd have torn a good palm's worth of skin off her jaw. Eyes wide and filling with self-loathing, he launches himself off her to curl into a ball.

[Isabela]

She follows, quick as a wink, though she stays a hand's breadth back from him, hovering without touching him. "Zev? Talk to me, Zev. It's alright. You're safe. I'm here."