It's Not Black & White Ch. 04

Authors Note: As promised, this chapter will focus far more on the carnal parts of the relationship. The plot deepens, and we familiarize ourselves with Viara's allies. Longer this time as well. Let us know if you have any questions or comments!

Haern was awake before Viara was even out of reverie. He took the time to go through what little belongings he had left, including the scraps of paper he used to sketch Leilana when he knew the woman wasn't watching. Over the past few days, things had grown almost comfortable with the woman.

They had their little routine. She did her things - he cleaned, made sure everything in her chambers was where it should be, and they would spar in what passed for evenings in this gods-forsaken place. She had not forced him to...serve, as she called it, for several days now.

She is even starting to...well, not trust, exactly. Drow do not trust. She seems to at least start to anticipate. And understand. Seems to make genuine efforts at keeping things...congenial.

Today, however, was different - which was why he was up early. She'd let him know that they would be visiting the elves she knew, and she would bring his as a servant.

A few days ago, she'd brought him what she referred to as the house livery. It fit him well - though he would not go so far as to say it suited him. The black tunic with a blood-red symbol which he'd understood to be their house sigil seemed to only scream for an echo of the same brand on his forehead. His position, with the breeches and the belt, was very evident.

When he left his room an hour later, he knew he looked presentable - but upon seeing her, he could not help staring.

She wore a shimmering gown of what seemed like translucent dense-threaded, silvery spiderweb. Her breasts, her sex, the curve of her stomach and thighs - it was all visible, yet not, through the barely-opaque dress. Her nipples seemed to have been painted a purple that shone through the dress. Her hair had somehow been put into intricate curls that fell to her shoulders and below like a snow-white fall. She wore long-armed gloves from a leather-like material that he'd learned came from a species of underground snake - soft as silk. Several of her fingers bore large rings tipped with shimmering stones - rubies, emeralds and one sapphire. Her boots were high - she never left the room without fighting boots - but very fine.

Others might have called the blades by her slim belt a foolish affectation - but one look at the way she handled herself would tell anyone she well knew how to handle them.

Her cheeks were dusted with what seemed like a crimson blood-spray, though somehow delicate and graceful - not just disgusting, and she wore a lipstick that seemed to mirror the shimmer and lustre of her ruby-red eyes.

Her graceful lips, however, were turned in a frown. "What?"

"I..." he realized he'd been staring and quickly dropped his gaze. How can i be disgusted and...

"I can smell the salt of your disgusting arousal on the air, male. Compose yourself, and your ape instincts. Understood? You can drool after me later, if you prefer - and out of my sight." Despite that, she'd moved forward, and the smile on her lip was half-cruel, half...triumphant?

He'd half-opened his mouth to argue that, no, he wasn't aroused in the least. But he knew his cock strained against his breeches.

"Forgive me, mistress." He meant it - for several reasons, and by the way she met his eyes, it seemed she knew it.

"You are...forgiven." Her voice was musical and her smile curved upward further and she touched the pit of his neck with one finger. "So difficult to control yourself, hmm? Such a male, after all."

"I...you are very beautiful, mistress," His voice sounded numb to his own ears.

"I know." She breathed, close enough for his breath to travel across his face. She smelled of sharp spice today. "And you look...passable, slave. The tunic fits. The breeches...will be better once you contain your base instincts." Her eyes sparkled.

Haern jumped. She'd actually given his crotch a small slap!

He glared.

Viara laughed out loud in what seemed true amusement, then turned. "Here. Take it." She handed him a bundle, long and thick.

He frowned and unrolled it, blinking at it. It was a blade. "Mistress, i-"

"For today." She interrupted. "You are my servant - and part of my retinue for travelling. We will travel through the city. No member of the house attending a daughter of the house goes unarmed. Certainly you will not. But...if you imagine to even consider using that blade upon me..."

He swallowed. "I will not. I swear it." At least not now. Not yet.

Viara nodded, slow. "Good. You will wear it proudly. And compose yourself with the air suitable for a personal servant for a daughter of the house of De'larn. We will travel by carriage." She took a small satchel and tied it to her belt in a small hook. "Come."

They went.

He felt odd, walking by her side in the house in such a fashion. Other servants - even drow guards - quickly went out of their way. Not just hers, but his as well. To Viara, it was of course nothing. To him, it felt for the first time as though he had a measure of control back, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. He was used to others viewing him with awe. His prowess, his size, his skill with the blade. They all-

His thoughts froze as a taller drow female than Viara stepped across the corridor, saw them and smirked. "Why Viara - dearest sister. You look fantastic."

Viara halted. "Maela."

"Almost as though you're going to be a surface whore at a celebratory feast. Who is the lucky male? Your slave, there? I'm surprised the beast still lives, given your...appetites."

"Unlike you, i do not take beasts to bed, dear sister. My slaves are only that - slaves...Though if you need wardrobe assistance..." She sneered at the older drow's apparel, which seemed drab and tawdry in comparison, though it was shining links of silvery metal "...i would be happy to arrange a meeting with my seamstress for you. But of course!" She snapped her gloved finger and shook her head "...you would need to have something to show, no!" She pouted in mock-sympathy. "And blessed Lolth did not bless you with much in the ways of...charms? At least" She added almost lazily "That is what i hear the males in the barracks laughing about when deep in their cups of ale."

Haern blinked before realizing what they must be talking about. The other woman's chest region was conspicuously flat, and the way her eyes seemed to blaze.

"Careful - lest i bite that wagging tongue, hag!" She showed her teeth as if to make a reality of the threat.

Viara smirked. "No way to speak to your sister, is it? Come now, dearest. I'm sure i can find one of my...acquaintances who would not mind some time with you as a favor to me. You must be exhausted, begging to Lolth for favor, for charms from your betters, not to mention dragging male slaves to your quarters by rope."

Maela's eyes were hateful enough to burn her sister to ash - if looks could do as much. She seemed about to answer, then glanced at him, and instead whirled.

Far from seeming as calm as she had, he noted Viara's breathing was elevated. She watched her sister's retreating back as though the other drow would spin and assault her at any second.

"Come, male!" She snapped and he followed.

The carriage was an intricate affair. The seats were wide enough for both of them to have one. He was surprised when she indicated he should get inside, as opposed on the seat above.

"Your...sister, mistress."

Viara sneered. It twisted her features. "Lolth's gift to house De'larn and a waste of a mind. The queen take her!" She gave a sign to the air, her palm in the air with fingers clutched, looking like a dead spider.

Haern swallowed. To see siblings so at one another's throat...

"What, slave?" The twist of her lips indicated annoyance at his discomfort.

"It's just...we do not have that, mistress. Between siblings. Not often, at any rate. Siblings love and trust one another on the surface."

"Weakness." Viara looked out the window. "Maela taught me levitation. She taught me my words, my speech, and when i was of age, she taught me of my body. Of men and of women. My role. My rights and my desires. She raised me more than my mother did. But she will always be...an adversary. That is how drow are. That is how we maintain strength, slave. How we make sure that only the strong survive. At least, unless there is another house."

House before sibling rivalries. He knew. "This...meeting today..."

"Meeting?" She shook her head, perking up in the seat. "Not a meeting, slave. We meet the three women i spoke of to you. Xelara. Limassi. Alyna. I was left a message that one has procured an...item of some value. And we mean to look at it." Her lips curved. "There will be delicacies, wine, entertainment...Xelara has earned much through her service to the city's Sorcere. Already a sorceress with power twice that - thrice! - of her age."

"You...mentioned her as an ally."

"Yes. My ally. Her ascent had likely not been possible without my influence - just as she has in return given me favor and help when needed. We are not...so different, she and i."

Haern wasn't sure he wanted to meet someone who matched that description. He was about to ask her what the woman had done - but quickly decided against it. Too obvious, and too suspicious.

"And Alyna? Limassi?"

She waved her hand. "Allies of a sort also, but less useful thus far. Think of them as seeds in the garden that have not yet sprouted. I have assisted each of them in a way - and they will know to serve me when the time comes. Limassi, in her position as first daughter..." Viara licked her lower lip. "...will have considerable power." A sharp glance at him. "Why, slave?"

"I seek to understand, so that i may better serve, mistress."

Far from mollifying her, her eyes narrowed. "Such a...proper slave you are, rivvil. So very...proper. But do not think i will not demand service, only because i have been busy." She inched closer, put her gloved hand on his upper chest. He could feel her nails through the thin, soft fabric of the glove. "When we return, i will have you service me - and you will make up for the cycles i have spent with more important concerns than my pleasure. Understood?"

He swallowed, feeling both revolted and something of what he'd seen upon viewing her. Her hunger seemed to have an infectious component to it, and the fact they were in a tight, enclosed space made it...almost intimate.

She seemed to be able to sense his thoughts, her smile slowly spreading. "Have no fear, male. You will taste your mistress this night."

They rode the rest of the trip in silence.

The house they came to seemed thrice the size of Viara's family home, if all of the walled estate belonged to Xelara's family. The house guards stood at attention and let the carriage pass with only a cursory glance inside.

"Never leave my side as we walk, slave. Never." Viara murmured as they descended the carriage stairs. "Your eyes upon me, or the surroundings - but do not challenge anyone here, even with a glance."

He did his best to not do so.

It was evident from the decorations, the carpets and the sheer scale of the manor, that this family was many times the size of Viara's own. Squads of guards moved through the corridors, most of them armed to the teeth. He swa no less than four drow who he assumed were house members - daughters, sons or the like.

Viara walked with grace and received respectful distance when she did. One of the females even spoke a greeting to her, which Viara returned in kind.

They climbed sets of stairs until they finally reached a set of tall, metallic doors. Vaira raised her hand to knock, but the doors swung open and they entered.

Haern stared.

He'd thought Viara's chambers the epitome of luxury down here.

Oh, how mistaken he'd been.

The ceiling was at least fifty feet in the air, and that air sparkled with shimmering, arcane runes and symbols that bathed the entire chamber in a purple-blue light. A large, circular pool dominated the middle of the chamber, filled with water, though it had a dark-red sheen. A bed so massive it could have fit ten of him and still have room to spare was in one corner, complete with intricate wardrobes, mirrors and dressers. The shelves lining the walls were filled to bursting with books, and several lecterns held open volumes. Another corner of the circular chamber seemed dedicated to arcana reagents, with jars and glasses filled with things he did not want to imagine.

Near the pool was a large table, set with chairs. Pillows large enough to lie down upon were spread across the generously-carpeted chamber.

It seemed almost criminal that the only three individuals in the room were three women sitting at the table.

"Viara, dearest. So lovely you could make it!" They all three came forward, but it was the shortest of them that called out in a clear soprano.

"Xelara. You've done a...sorcerous job." She grinned - though there was more avarice, lust, and other emotions besides welcoming joy for him to make sense of the words, or the greeting.

They didn't hug or kiss. They approached one another, and that seemed to serve the same purpose. Xelara was half a head shorter than Viara, though her clothes seemed scarcely less magnificent. It was a pure-black dress cut with strategic slashes of color. Scattered moondrops seemed to have been flung at random into her near-silvery hair, and in her belt was a slim rod of dark-brown wood topped with a round diamond.

But it was her face that nearly caused Haern to take a step back. He'd though Viara's face oozed cruelty and dark elven dominance.

Xelara made her seem meek.

Those eyes and the curve of those purple lip scanned him and seemed to stake claims in what she could use or wanted, and discard what she did not. They were dark-red pools, and for a second he was torn between drawing his steel or throwing himself behind one of the nearby tables.

"That dress, Viara" She breathed "...Lolth's scarlet mote, it is divine."

"Oh? You like it?" She lifted a corner.

Xelara laughed. "Like it? You must tell me who made it. I will flay them if they do not do their best work for me." She touched Viara for the first time, reaching out and taking her right nipple between two graceful digits. She twisted. "And darling - it's practical as well!"

Viara gave a shudder and a small moan. "Now now...."

For a second he thought this was the start of conflict, but then he Xelara withdrew, grinning.

"Alyna. Limassi." Viara reached out, touching each of their shoulders, but only with two fingers as if to suggest she was no threat.

"Viara. That dress really is ravishing." Alyna had a...warmer voice, and was a more curvaceous figure than he'd expected to see. Not that she seemed soft - far from it. Yet there was a quality to her voice that suggested she knew she was among her betters. Drow to whom she owed favors, and could learn from. "You look as though Lolth had decided to stoop down among us mortals."

"And that...spatter, Viara." Limassi's voice was sombre - someone used to command. Expected to be obeyed, but at the same time uncertain of her role. "What is it? True blood? Did you slay a slave for the paint?" She seemed excited by the notion.

"Oh - No, no! A paint from Menzoberanzan, Limassi, dearest. Far from cheap, but well worth the cost. The effect..." She indicated her cheeks and smiled. "My sister turned near-the tone of Eladrin with envy! Come, where is the wine?" She stepped forward. "I have a thirst."

"And your...companion, Viara?" All three of them - except Viara were watching him.

Haern felt like a prize bull being critically scrutizined by a gaggle of buyers at the local faire. A second look at Xelara and...no. Not a bull. A drafthorse perhaps. A tool.

"Oh. Yes." Viara came forward and gave his rump a hard 'slap!' "You recall my mother's blooding gift? That is it." She frowned. "Him, i suppose. This rivvil - it's name - His name is Haern. He is a male. A human."

Alyna stepped forward, touched and smelled his hair. "How odd. He doesn't smell bad."

"I have had him washed, dearest." Viara chortled. "When my mother presented the gift, he smelled like a slave quarters three-week old midden. But..." She eyed him, her eyes hard. "With time, and effort, i have taught him to dress. To wash. To serve."

"So." Xelara turned back to the table. She took something small from a plate - some kind of insect? - and popped it in her mouth with a practiced flick of her index finger. "Mmm...have you become a slave master? Will you train slaves now, darling?" She chewed, crunched, then spat something to the side, and swallowed.

Even doing that, Haern had to admit, she looked beautiful doing.

"Psh. No - though i mean to train this one. He is my property, after all. My own. Not my mother's, not my sisters, not my houses. Mine."

"I have my own slaves" Limassi interjected.

"Tsh! You have Goblins, Limassi. Orcs. Foul creatures with little more brains than Rothes. This is a rivvil - yes, only a rivvil - But! He has served in the fighting pits. He survived for weeks - months! He beat every challenger. He is a prize fighter. A born warrior from the surface. So good he and his...company almost managed to reach our demesne without being discovered. Besides, he is not unintelligent - for a slave and for a male."

"Lolth." Limassi murmured. "He is...large, is he not?"

"Your're not selling him to us, darling." Xelara laughed and tipped back a tall glass of something. She wiped a trickle from her mouth and grinned viciously. "Though i must say Limassi is right. He does seem...tall. Most males are not so tall."

"They are not. His stature makes our males seem short." Viara agreed.

Alyna, who was the tallest of the four, hadn't moved back and frowned up at him - quite close. "He does seem a bit dull. Those eyes. Is he truly...intelligent? He looks like a Rothé, Viara! What if he could understand us?"

"I can, drow!" he clenched his jaws.

Xelara's glass fell to the floor with a faint 'clink'.

"What?" Alyna's eyes widened and she stepped back. "It speaks without permission? Without magic?"

Viara laughed. "Sometimes, Alyna. Sometimes. He is still untrained, in some things. Don't look so surprised!"

"Viara, daling! However did a rivvil learn our tongue, let alone understand us?" Xelara's eyes showed more curiosity now.

"A long story - and one i would be happy to share. Some wine, some glimmerdust, one of those delicacies - are those smoke rothé tongues? - and i will be happy to share..." His mistress grinned at all of their suddenly curious stares. "Come. Slave!" She barked, suddenly harsh. "Stand over there. Don't move!"

They sat on pillows in a half-circle close to the pool and ate half-lying down. Haern watched with fascination. He'd seen Viara eat, though never with such clear abandon and enjoyment of the meal. She bit into delicacies such as steaks, tongues, and pastries with rapture, clearly enjoying the tastes washed down with copious amounts of what he could only assume was wine or some sort of alcohol.

The others ate and drank as well - and conversation touched mostly...him initially.

"How does it feel to have a male slave so close by? Sleeping close to your chambers? Revolting!" That from Alyna.

"He's rivvil! Why is he not down in the slave quarters?"

"Does he truly fight as good as that? Have you put him to the test?"

"How does he handle pain? Do you beat him daily? I have heard rivvil need daily beatings."