The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[NPCs]

Zevran shakes himself a little, mustering up a wan smile as Estelle nods her agreement. "That sounds very lovely, thank you. I... I am aware that things are complicated, to say the least, but you are both not just Famiglia but family."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Something darkens a little in Coquette's expression at that. "Family. Indeed," she says, standing to signal that the visit is over. "Thank you for attending to my husband."

[NPCs]

Estelle rises as well, hiding her dismay at touching off that force rune expertly hidden from sight. "And thank you for the lovely conversation," she replies with a friendly air. Smoothing down her dress, she curtsies. "Again, let me know if there's anything I can assist you with in settling in."

[Coquette Blacquin]

The next few days are a tense balancing act. Noire, never used to fronting as much, soon becomes sulky and moody between 'shifts', while Cindy struggles to act imperious enough to be taken for Noire and Cedric tries to remain vigilant at all times despite hating the subtle change in their body, the vomiting in the morning. They meet person after person, handling small crises like the cook who came to get their dietary information hating half-breeds, or Claudia's cousin disapproving of the Drow way of life. At all times, like the sword of Damocles over her head, hangs the knowledge that she will soon be nothing more than a bartering chip, a prize to be sold and bred at Feythiel's behest. 

She is sitting in the evening, Cindy working on needlepoint as Claudia reads a book, both of them resting in their own separate ways, when the door opens to admit none other than the Matriarch herself, with Estelle right on her heels. Cindy almost falls over as she stands quickly, dropping her needle as Cedric goes searching for Noire. 

[NPCs]

Feythal's gaze skims over Claudia briefly, but her focus is on Coquette. There's a glimmer in her eyes, a faint smile on her lips, that tease the merikos drow with the impression that the much older female knows something, likely far too may somethings, that Coquette would normally kill to keep private. Claudia bolts to her feet as well, the book clattering to the ground with a thud that draws a pained wince from Estelle, safely behind and thus out of sight of her Grandmother. 

"Granddaughter," Feythal says neutrally, her tone giving nothing of her intent away. Her gaze dips to the needpoint and one eyebrow arches. "What... is that?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Needlepoint, my lady. I am decorating a gown, in Alyssian fashion."

[NPCs]

"Needle... point," she repeats slowly, considering the words as she studies the discarded craft. "Well done," she finally says, lips pursed. "I cannot spot the needles from this distance at all."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Funny, grandmother," she says calmly, with a forced smile, intending not to contradict her. "The needle is, as you surely know, used to create the decorative design. Were I to use this to kill someone, I would soak the threads in a contact poison, so that they are poisoned upon wearing it."

[NPCs]

There's a slight pause, then a nervous giggle slips out of Claudia, who looks mortified at herself. Feythal meres offers the merikos gnome a flat look before disregrarding her for the moment. "I see. I approve of the design," she says instead, sitting without looking on an ebon wood throne that appears behind her. "Shall we dispense with frivolities and cut right to the heart of things, granddaughter?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"As you like," she says simply, seating herself once Faythiel is seated. As she arranges her skirts, she adds, "I am always prepared to dispense with the frivolities when time is of the essence."

[Claudia Emerison]

Claudia and Estelle finds seats as well, the older wife still silent, still tense and... sad, perhaps? But a strange sort of sad, one with some positive mixed in it. "Good then." She laughs, a dry, almost raspy whisper of a laugh. "Even with all my years, I still find that I've not had enough time and so I grow less and less inclined to waste any more of it. I have selected for you a bride." Lifting her left hand, she points a slim finger at the only non-drow-blooded person in the room. "Two, technically, but Claudia is your primary wife and Estelle only your secondary, just as you are only her secondary wife."

Claudia gapes, her only moderate skill at hiding reactions woefully unprepared for news like that. Estelle's eyes close briefly, cutting off sight of the pain filling them a split-second too late. Neither manage or decide to speak.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette bows her head, but inwardly, Noire seethes. They compromise: "I understand, Grandmother, and will comply, but please indulge my stupidity, for I do not understand how this brings glory to your reign?"

[NPCs]

"Simple," Feythal replies with a shrug. "Estelle is the strongest of my blood but her failed marriage has ruined her." She pays no heed to the tears leaking from Estelle's eyes nor the look of abject self-loathing on Claudia's face. "You possess the traits and skills needed to salvage Claudia. Fixing her allows for their marriage to no longer weight down Estelle's status so horribly. Should you accomplish this, then in time, you yourself would find yourself very close to the throne. Perhaps even just a bed's distance."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I understand, Grandmother. I am to be the smith who forges the ingot into a keen blade, ready for your use." It's clumsy in Low Drow, though it would have sounded more appropriate in Dwarven, but the image gets across. 

[NPCs]

Feythal shakes her head, though she's smiling faintly. "Not my use, Granddaughter. I won't be around to wield anything at that point. No, that will fall to the three of you." She studies Coquette for a moment, then rises to her feet. "I will grant you space to discuss this with each other," she announces.

"Yes Grandmother," Estelle whispers, sounding distant and shocky.