The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

Then she jumps to her feet, moving towards him slowly, hands up and clearly empty. "Zevran?" she asks, quietly. "Please, sit down. You're worrying me."

[Zevran]

Sit down. Please. Worrying her. I can do-- I can do that. Head jerking, shame twisting in his guts, Zevran meekly does as he's bid. Eyes locked firmly on the ground and closed besides, he fights to keep his breathing even and regular. "i am sorry," he whispers yet again. "I-- I am meant-- I wanted to-- to be here for you, not-- not this."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I appreciate the thought, but you're clearly not well," she says quietly. "Is this so terrible a turn of events to you? I assure you, if you wish your freedom from me you have only to ask -- I will not require you to be present if you do not wish it."

[Zevran]

"No!" Zevran swallows, shuddering. "I'm sorry," he repeats, hating that so much of what he manages to say boils down to those two words. Or simply is those two words. "It is not-- I do not wish to leave you. I do not--" He shakes his head. No, not 'do not.' Speak of 'do.' Need to explain why I am... "You are a wonderful mother." Good start but get to you. "I would-- I would be scared, to help raise a child; I have no skill or-- or experience in-- in such. But m-m-my child?" The phrase strangles in his throat. "Coquette, I am not-- I should never-- What I am is not--"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"How can I help?" she asks, quietly. "Recall that it will take three years for the child to grow. Three years to get used to the idea, to sort yourself out. That can be.... it can be a long time." 

[Zevran]

"Three years," Zevran repeats, the idea thankfully easing st least some of the disquiet and terror he's feeling. "Three years is.... Is a long time. But-- Coquette-- Cindy, I-- I am a monster. I've killed and taken so much from so many, how can-- What kind of child would--"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"You were not born a monster, surely?" she asks, gently. "The babe will not inherit your deeds, only your race. Our race."

[Zevran]

"Are you sure?" Zevran asks bleakly. "In the Pits, we were-- We were not taught, exactly, they did not care if we understood, much less agreed but they talked around us. I've heard them explain how-- how traits and qualities can be traced along a bloodline. What I am, what I am capable of doing, if that-- to put that on another, I could not--"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I am capable of many things my mother and father are not. And my father is a monster that I am not. Such things are not a guarantee, only a possibility. I do not expect the babe to, what, strangle me while nursing? There will be time. Years and years of time to teach him the right way to be."

[Zevran]

"Your father?" Zevran asks, latching onto that particular word and the glimmer of hope her denial implies.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Judge Harrod Blacquin of Glaley. He is-- ah, I see you have heard of him."

[Zevran]

"By reputation only," Zevran replies after a moment. "Wait, no, I think I might have been at the same social function as he once, but we did not interreact." He frowns thoughtfully, the effort of recalling helping push down his panic.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"He is a hard man to live with. A cruel man. When he found I was more likely to be an embarrassment than an asset he could bargain with, he sold me to Varisia as repayment for a deed she did him. I have not heard from him since. Nor do I expect to, Varisia killed him, but he never once checked up on me once he was rid of me."

[Zevran]

Zevran blinks a few times, neatly distracted even more. "Varisia what?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Which? Oh, she killed him. Well she doesn't think I know it was her, but she does assassinations from time to time."