It's Not Black & White Ch. 02

Authors note: Sorry for the lack of formatting in the last chapter. We will go back and make sure to edit this accordingly. Enjoy this chapter, and please let us know what you like and what you'd like to see more of (as well as the opposite)!

--Jasmine and Daniel.

It took surprisingly long to awake, and when he did, he wanted to fall back asleep. Sleep was one of the few times he was able to completely forget where he was and what his life had become.

Yet the unfamiliar smells, the unfamiliar sounds, the sensations around him, and the mere feeling of where he was, prevented him from falling asleep again. In a way, it was harder to wake up here than in the dungeons. The dungeons had been similar to any cave. This...was odd and unfamiliar in the extreme.

His bed was comfortably padded with a sheet and pillows so soft he hadn't felt the like. The scent in his room was one he could not place - sweet and distinctly spicy at the same time, like something always seeming to prick the inside of his nose. The feel of the air was different, even. It seemed heavy and thick, somehow constricting. When he rose from his bed, the ways the furniture was constructed were unfamiliar. They had too many curves, and too many barbs to be elven - at least the elven he was familiar with.

He reached for his clothes only to recall that she'd thrown them out.

That cursed drow wretch! The cunt - the monster.

He swallowed back emotion, and the taste in his mouth of a mingled sweet and intimate, only a trace now, made him spit. Her. That's' her.

What he'd been made to do yestereve had followed him until he fell asleep.

He'd known that when he was chosen as a house slave, that his existence would be both improved, yet in many ways, much, much worse - he'd spoken to other slaves in the pits of the prospects of house slaves. While they usually got plenty of meals and warm beds to sleep in, their existences were more often and even more sudden cut short by the volatile tempers of their dark-skinned masters and mistresses.

What I saw and heard yesterday, I can see that. Tyr, grant me courage and strength. I shall not falter.

The words sounded easier in his mind when there wasn't a drow woman forcing him to knee, submit, or...other vile acts.

When she had been brought before him yesterday, he'd been hopeful at first. Certainly, a youthful-looking woman, barely out of adolescence, would be an improvement and perhaps offer opportunities for him to escape. Should have remembered that their children stop being children at age five.

Still, yesterday had been one of surprises - no matter how much Leilena had tried to teach him prior to his capture. He found himself torn how to feel about the woman - Viara - at times. She'd subjugated him, raped him, yet hadn't killed him when he had clearly overstepped and seemed....amused of him, of all things.

Strange.

Seeing no reason to leave his chambers, he retrieved the small sticks of charcoal he'd managed to smuggle both to the dungeon and to this place. He shifted the bed perhaps two inches, revealing the small likeness he was working on on the smooth, pale wall.

It had begun as amusement - Leilena telling him that she found the act of sketching and drawing to be an effective method both to relax and to focus one's thoughts. She'd shown him, and within a few years of their acquaintance, he'd adopted the habit of keeping a small journal that he drew in at night.

Well, his journal was burned long since - but he still had some charcoal. So he drew. The gentle curve of Leilena's cheekbones was clear on the wall. He smudged with his index finger, softening the edge of her hairline, drawing back and nodding to himself.

Not bad.

He knew that he did what he did to try and escape his situation - but he did not mind it. The situation is new. I'll need time to assess and...see what to do.

When he had been transferred, he had almost had an escape plan worked out with a few of the slaves. He did not know whether they had betrayed him - but was convinced to develop his own plan this time.

The door moved, and he just managed to hide the charcoal and sit with his back to his work before the door was opened and a now-familiar figure entered.

"Slave." She wore tight-fitting leather armor and breeches with high boots made of some scaled leather as well, though crested with what looked like a red-and-purple fur. Two sheaths with daggers at her belt, and her red eyes seemed to glow with malice when she regarded him with a sneer. "You are not used to washing yourself and presenting yourself to your mistress in the morning, i take it? Beginning tomorrow, this is what you will do. Go. Wash. There is a meal as well - though you've yet done little to deserve it."

Haern considered what - if anything - to respond to, but swallowed all but two words. "Yes, mistress." He tried to inject meekness. Remember - she controls your fate.

The drow seemed surprised for a moment, then nodded curtly and turned to leave.

Haern washed - and when he'd washed, he ate what he could only describe as an odd-tasting loaf of bread, and something which looked like a white cheese but certainly tasted very different. There was also water.

The drow sat by her desk, writing on a sheaf of parchment and looking in a book.

Even the evilest races of Faerûn have dreary and common days. He stood by the door to his chambers and waited. He had no intention of raising her ire further, instead considering how he could put her at ease.

She's young - even by their standards - but hardened from the life she's led. She will do whatever she has been taught, likely without question, but she's not above...asking and considering. At least not in private. If she's in the right mood. He added the last part grudgingly..She has a temper like a demon... That, he'd seen.

"Mistress?" He tried making his voice meek.

She turned from the desk, twirling the stylus between two fingers in a nimble display. "What, slave?"

"May i...may I ask a question now?"

Her lips pursed and she frowned. "Questions are rewards for proper behavior, rivvil. Something you have yet to show. But, perhaps..." she snapped her fingers, pointing with one finger. "Here. Kneel, male."

He felt bile and anger rise, and it took considerable mental effort not to glare or snarl. Keeping a meek expression, he moved forward and slowly before her, his eyes on the floor. Do what they ask..Do what they say. Remember where you are.. When she said nothing, he slowly lifted his gaze.

She wore an amused smile. "So obedient so quickly, hmmmm? Such a good slave."

That time, he was sure his anger showed, for she laughed softly.

Her boot nudged his chin, and he hesitated only for a moment before planting his lips, tasting leather, scale, and something unpleasant and oily.

Her smile showed teeth, but she seemed pleased. "Very well, slave. I can't say I'm not surprised." She motioned. "Ask."

He pondered this, unsure how much he would be allowed to ask..Any question must seem harmless....

"You...said you were the second daughter. So the...others who were with you at the dungeon...your sister?"

"And my mother, yes. I am the youngest of her daughters. My mother has had poor luck, and given birth to mostly male offspring following me. You met, or saw, my older sister."

He had..Even viler than this one, it seemed..

"Is it...a...big house?" He knew Drow society was organized into houses - and this clearly was a noble house.

She pursed her lips. "House De'larn is a powerful house, but there are those more powerful than us. We are perhaps the twenty-second house, out of sixty-and-nine." She gestured to the open window overlooking the outside. "Our manse is in the eastern reaches of the cavern, overlooking the great lake."

He decided for an honest question - if only perhaps to unnerve her. "Will I ever...be freed, mistress?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, male. Only in death. Never. You are a slave. You are my slave. I will not release you. Your place is as my slave until I have no further need for you."

He inclined his head and looked down.

"As I said, rivvil - your existence need not be...unpleasant." She sounded annoyed if anything. "I am aware some of your kind have the habit of...taking their own life as opposed to serving. While it may be amusing to see, I do not wish to waste my time." Her hand came to cup his chin, angle it up. Her skin was warm, and the scent was of the sweet yet spicy, fruity scent that permeated his room.

It was the scent he'd quickly come to associate with her.

"You will serve as you are told. You will expect my needs and be a proper, male slave. I can be a generous mistress." Her smile grew, though there was too much teeth and flash in her eyes in it for it to be gentle. "What do you wish?"

"Wish? Mistress?" He said answered with care.

"Yes, wish. You may express your wishes. Your desires." She sounded somewhat amused.

.Not considered anything I would...want after being captured. It's survival. Always survival.. His life, ever since getting into their hands had not held the luxury of considering wishes or desires - or goals. How had that happened? We said we would do everything we could to get free...

He noticed suddenly that her expression was turning decidedly...annoyed.

"My apologies. I have not thought about...wants. Desires. Goals. Since..." he gestured outside. "I have not thought about it. I...do not know."

She seemed puzzled for a second, but then inclined her head and leaned back on her ornate chair. "What of food? Sometimes merchants do bring foods from the surface."

.A steak of beef as opposed to this....Whatever it had been he'd eaten. He nodded. "That would be welcome. Thank you, mistress."

"I haven't promised anything, slave. I am finding what you desire." She again spoke as if explaining something to a child. "What of a female, perhaps? Shall I buy one for you? Sometimes they are taken in raids. You could have a woman to rut and savage when you are not performing your duties? Perhaps father a few children, to serve alongside you?"

He swallowed and shook his head firmly. While a more...light-skinned companion may be pleasant, he'd no desire to do anything to anyone the drow 'bought'. Not to mention it made him think of Leilena.

"Goddess, the delight! The only male in the history of Faerûn with no interest in fucking!" Viara chuckled.

".I had a companion, you vile cu-...!". The snarl had left his lips before he could stop himself and he swallowed. "...Apologies, mistress. I did not..." He suddenly remembered what she'd said and met her eyes. "I meant what I said, but...I apologize for the words."

A small smile, and she inclined her head. "Your existence need not be unpleasant." She repeated. "Stand." When he followed orders, she circled him. "You are strong. Capable. You held yourself well in a fight with me. There is use for you. My mother did not choose a poor slave - and it seems there was no fluke in your survival in the gladiatorial pits. A slave such as you could be...very useful."

He met her crimson eyes. They seemed hungry. Demanding. Possessive.

"If" She hammered the word like a nail "I can.control. you."

.Not trust. Control..

He fought a variety of emotional turmoil and then inclined his head..Freedom can come, once I know my situation. Know the city. Know this...thing. This woman. Until then...He met her eyes. How well can I play along?. "I will...do my best to give good service, mistress. To give you...cause to be generous."

"Good. I will be visiting my friends this day. You will stay here and familiarize yourself with the chamber. I have laid out part of my wardrobe on my bed. You will fold it - well - and return it to its place."

.So now I'm her damned bed-maid?.

He inclined his head. "Mistress"

She rose and draped a thick, black cloak around her shoulders. Haern hated to admit it even only to himself, but the elf was statuesque and supremely beautiful. Her limbs were slim and she moved with such apparent grace that it made him feel clumsy by comparison.

She left the chambers with only one glance back, leaving him to get on by himself.

He quickly accounted for every part of the chambers - her chambers, including what he hadn't been shown the previous night. They were spacious and what he could only assume was well-furnished - by drow standards. The furniture and the styles were odd to him. Too angular, and perhaps too few given the size of the spaces. There was an overabundance of darks, reds and purples with very few lively colors such as greens.

The task she'd set him proved to be simple. While she seemed to have her own bed's weight worth of clothing, all of it was well-sorted, and he managed to put them back within the hour.

So it was that he was lounging in his own little room, considering various ways to escape the house and his situation, when he heard a firm 'knock-knock' on the door.

.She wouldn't knock on her own chamber door.. He rose and looked around. His own clothing, underbreeches, and a clean tunic, suddenly seemed woefully underdressed, though his previous, dirty clothes had disappeared.

Knock-knock..

Haern swallowed..Shout an answer? No. Think. You're a slave here, and if you step wrong, they're likely to kill you. That bitch's protection as her slave only goes so far..

The door opened, and in with confidence stepped a figure in a similar cloak to that of Viara's, though her shoulders were broader and features, lit by the faerie fire on the walls, were harsher still. Haern recognized her, despite that most of the drow looked very similar to his eyes. He'd seen her several times.

It was the girl's mother.

He quickly withdrew his head from the door opening when she turned.

"I saw you. Come out. Here."

If Viara's voice was one of command, her mother's assumed it to a degree that would see anyone not doing exactly as she said in boiling oil.

Haern hesitated only a second before stepping out.

"Where is my daughter, slave? Step out. Come."

He walked forward and stopped perhaps six feet in front of her.

"My daughter - where is she?"

"I believe...she said she was going to meet...friends. She told me to stay here. Fold her clothing and-"

"I have no need to know of your plebian tasks for my offspring, slave." Her voice was quiet, taking no effort to correct or interrupt - merely doing it. "Do you know who I am?"

"I...yes." He thought of what Viara had said and added "Matron mother."

The corner of the drow's lip quirked upward. "I see my daughter has started housebreaking you. Good."

He swallowed down some of the rage that bubbled up at that..Really remember who she is. This monster will certainly kill you with no second thought if she thinks it necessary..

The woman walked around her daughter's room, inspecting the chambers one by one before returning to where he stood. "Kneel, slave" She motioned with one hand.

He did.

"I purchased you for my daughter as a slave - but I mean to make use of you outside of your duties to her. Do you understand?"

"I...yes, matron Mother." It was the only possible answer.

"You are my daughter's slave. But I am her mother and the head of the house. Your true loyalty" she gripped his hair in a long-fingered fist and angled his face upward. "Is to me. Yes?"

He worked his throat and inclined his head, painfully tugging at her grip as he did. "Yes...matron mother. To you." It galled, speaking those words - but it was better than the alternative - fighting an armed drow with nothing but what was essentially smallclothes.

"Say it."

"My loyalty...is...to you."

She nodded, as though he was merely stating a fact. "To that end, I have need of you, slave."

"I...how may I serve, matron mother?"

"Why, she.has. housebroken you somewhat." A small smile touched the woman's lips again and she eyed him. "Do you...find my daughter of interest, slave?" She raised one finger. "Before you answer, know that I will sense if you lie. And if you lie, you will wish I had not purchased you."

Haern bit back the response he'd intended and contemplated for a moment before responding. "She is interesting, Matron Mother. For a Drow. I loathe her." He met his eyes. "As I loathe you.".Is that what she wants? Truth from a slave?.

It seemed the right choice. She met his eyes for a long moment. "Good. Do you wish to return to your kind? To the surface?"

He met her eyes coldly and said nothing.

Seeming to read his thoughts, she went on. "I do not jest, or lie, or mock you, slave. I've no need of it. If you do as I say - exactly as I say - I will release you when your service is finished. You would be free. Free to return to the surface - or stay a slave, if that is what you wished."

His mind worked..What can she want? Still, he couldn't deny that he was intrigued. Her visits prior to purchasing him had been puzzling - not only for him, but for the masters at the pit, and the other slaves.

"What must I do, matron mother?"

The drow walked to her daughter's desk and sat in her chair, crossing her legs. "What I am about to tell you, and command you, is to be hidden. Even from my daughter. You will not speak of it to anyone, lest I command you to. Do you understand?"

.If that's what it takes... The prospect of keeping a secret from Viara was a pleasant one, not negative in the least. He inclined his head.

"My daughter is...ambitious, and flighty. A dangerous combination. Some of her acquaintances are from houses that sometimes are in direct opposition to ours. She believes them her compatriots, allies, or that she can control them." Her eyes hardened "I believe otherwise. What I require of you is to keep an eye on my daughter. You are to follow her - everywhere - and report back to me when I ask. Tell me everything. What they spoke of. What happened. What they plan. What she wants. What she does. Anything she does, you remember. Anything she says, you will speak of to me."

Haern wet his lips..Fuck. She wants me to be....It was beyond dangerous. It was impossible. "I...cannot, Matron mother. How? She does not bring me when she leaves. I am her slave. I stay here. How can I report on things when I am not with her?"

"You will do what it takes to make certain my daughter sees it as necessary to bring you. It will be her idea. Become her shadow. Impress her. I know of your prowess, and what you did prior to the pits. I know how close you came to entering our city unnoticed, together with that vile creature of yours. The skills you have, you will use. Fight for her. Become her guard. Wash her and do what she says. Impress her, slave. She is young, full of passion, and still easily impressed. Do whatever she asks, yet do it more - and do it better."

He looked down remembering last night.

"Has she taken you to bed yet?" The drow shook her head at his expression. "Tsk! Do not look surprised! Do you think I gave her a.male. slave not knowing what my daughter might be tempted to do? She is a hotheaded young woman - with the appetites and lusts of a drow her age. I well remember it. I know she enjoys herself with friends - and I.certainly. expected her to use you in a fashion so...self-evident."

"I...yes, matron mother."

"But using you is not enough, slave. She needs to want to. Want to bring you - want to show you things so that you can report back on these things. Yes?"

"I...may I ask a question, Matron mother?"

She inclined her head.

"Why...why not a...male from your guard? A drow? Would that not be easier?"

"Any male from our household would be an immediate suspect. My daughter is drow - she knows I am interested in her affairs. Disguising you as a blooding gift was one of the only ways this could be. And had I done it before purchasing you, your sycophantic nature might have tipped her off. No." She shook her head. "It had to be like this, slave."