Sufferance Ch. 11

I could see very well how it would hurt her to lose him, beyond the emotional attachment she already had. Her magic would be crippled; a part of her ripped out and gone forever. Wilsira may very well go insane from the shock... And I'd be lucky to survive another few years if she decided the fault was all mine... She wouldn't have as much to lose at that point, would she? Making her all the more dangerous if she still remained a Priestess.

If Kerse ever died or was destroyed...Wilsirathon would have to die as well, and soon after, if I stood any chance of survival myself. My Elders might have to be willing to come against the Priesthood to in order to keep me.

How much confrontation would I be worth? Did they ever give up a Red Sister to a Priestess for sacrifice?

I didn't know the answer right then. They'd given me to Lelinahdara, but that was to force me to face my last remaining demon so they could take possession of me, of my body, my mind, my loyalty... I represented an investment to them, but only a recent one.

Maybe it would all depend on how well I handled what information I got from this trip. Start a campaign to seek Kerse's execution only to cripple Wilsirathon and weaken her? She would definitely know who was responsible then, it wouldn't be just her own obsession that ruined her son for her.

Try instead to preserve his life a little longer until...until what? Until she found a way to requisition my service again? Actually keep secrets on the Priestess's behalf and hope something else happened? Wait for her to make her own mistakes that bring her down, and build my own protection in the meantime?

I needed to talk to D'Shea...by Lolth's tits, I probably needed *her,* her position and her status. I might need her protection, the way Shyntre had wanted protection but never found in anybody...

I stood in that nursery room, buffeted by magic but not understanding its purpose, too close to danger without any good retreat, watching for the moment Kerse changed his mind about guarding Wilsira. It might not happen, but it could and I had to be ready.

As the Draegloth grew more agitated and more aroused by the magic, however, I doubted that it was a good idea to just let him snap. I wasn't afraid to direct him, was I? To approach him first and choose the interaction rather than only reacting, having it forced upon me? I'd done it before, in the blissful ignorance of my trials...

Except that he could turn on me—he had before with his mother watching—and the potion I'd taken only a short time ago wouldn't have its full effect yet. Drawing this out had its benefit...but so did taking control before he took action himself, before things became even more feverish.

I had no idea what Wilsirathon was even doing to that poor Noble.

If I were to interrupt the ritual somehow by coaxing Kerse's release when I chose, rather than his mother...? What then? Or would I just get trapped in the magic and be unable to make my own choices until it was over?

....so yes, I supposed I was a little afraid to approach the Draegloth. Too many unknowns for me, and I could fail pretty spectacularly right now from sheer lack of knowledge.

The chanting continued, as did the whispers at the edges of shadows. I suddenly felt a tight ball of vibration against my chest and reached to touch the spot, remembering the pendant. I didn't tug it out—I didn't want even Kerse seeing it and possibly recognizing it, now or later—but I took a quick peek down the front of my shirt and could tell it was glowing again.

Glowing again. Why? Now what?

*How does one know what crossed over...?*

Kerse bared his teeth and hissed, blazing yellow eyes still on me.

*Only when we face it on the other side.*

Part of my only reverie on this trip inexplicably returned only to add to my confusion, and it was then that I heard a new voice in the room, ready to make it worse. It was disembodied, low in volume but not in tenor, with a purity of thought and clarity that was hard to imagine coming from a true throat, formed with a spongy tongue and stretching lips. It was like when Lana and I were mind-linked; no words but pure thought and emotion... although there was very little emotion here. It was thought only; empirical, hollow...

*...Unusual. An interlink we did not infer...*

It said only that, or...that was all I heard. Then it disappeared, whatever tenuous connection there had been severed like a spider's silken thread. The vibration of the sapphire beneath my clothing ceased at the same time.

What in the Abyss....?

Kerse was shaking his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. Then he looked at me and took a step forward, finally breaking his guard. He lifted a large, clawed hand to reach for me. He never looked back at Wilsira and Curgia, still in their trance.

Right. Something had changed. So now I had to react...yes or no?

Intuition. I reached out to take his hand like it wasn't twice as large and more beastial than mine, pulling myself forward and wrapping my arms tightly around his middle without hesitation. The half-breed made a surprised, inquisitive sound but he took no forceful action.

His large hands started to touch and caress my back through my cloak, though he paused when I reached to touch the ridge visible beneath his loincloth. His breath hitched to a stop as I fished his member out, then he purred as I stroked him with my soft leather glove. After a slight delay, I could feel the heat of him reach my hand.

"Easy, Kerse, that's it," I cooed, alternating between longer, slower caresses and shorter, brisker tugging. "That's a good boy."

It was almost cute the way he trembled and nodded his head with his eyes closed, occasionally sucking in breath and spit to avoid drooling on me. Considerate.

I was closer to the Priestess and had the chance to turn us slightly as Kerse was focused on the pleasure I gave him. The magic was thick around all of us, making even the task of breathing seem labored.

Curgia was writhing now, sweat sheening on her forehead and face and neck, trickling down between her breasts. Her teeth were gritted and her hands now gripped Wilsilra's wrists hard, her nails digging in and soon to draw blood. I finally tossed out the ecstasy idea; it may have started out that way, but whatever was happening now couldn't be good for her condition. She was in unending pain.

I didn't know whether I could stop it or not, or whether I should. I was supposed to learn of Wilsira's plans, not interfere with them...

...oh, except that I already had, hadn't I? Plenty of times, starting with talking to Curgia in the garden in the first place, telling her what I thought I knew of the Priestess's motives.

Except we—D'Shea and I—had been wrong this time.

Could I justify a reason why Curgia should live? Or should she simply meet her fate having made her deals with a particularly ruthless Priestess?

"What's happening, Kerse?" I murmured.

He rumbled without opening his eyes; I still caressed him but it was more teasing now, drawing it out until he answered me. I asked one more time when he protested my slow pace, and he formed a vocal response.

"Nnammess."

"What about names?"

He hissed through teeth and his hips thrust at me, a demand for harder strokes. I gave it to him, then slowed down again.

"Well?"

He growled shortly, "Pllannar."

"Planar names?"

He nodded, and I gave a little twist to my handjob to vary the sensation this time. By all accounts, he liked it, and I kept him content while I could think.

Planar names. Such as Kerse's real name...the one that bound him to her, here and now. The one that bound all Draegloth to their mothers, and the reason why he couldn't leave despite being half demon and more magical by nature than even his mother.

Funny that it hadn't occurred to me before now that Curgia's offspring might have one of those planar names...

"She wants a new name?" I guessed, trying to keep it simple.

He nodded once, opening his eyes halfway and lifting his upper lip slightly in a subtle snarl. He didn't like the possibility of her gaining a new name.

Neither would D'Shea, I knew.

Okay, yes. Now I could justify my interference.

I went down to one knee and, still stroking him, began sucking as well, lavishing my lips and tongue in tandem with my gloved hand over the ridged, musky erection. Kerse growled in delight and grabbed my braids while thrusting his hips forward. I was prepared for the action, but only just.

His cock was one able to be pointed toward the floor without damaging him, and I did this now so I could rise from beneath with my chin up and my throat open. I could take more of him than I ever had before, letting the pointed tip just begin to squeeze its way down my windpipe, my lips impressively close to the knot that had finally formed at the base.

Kerse watched me do this; he was practically vibrating as I coaxed him close and closer to the edge. When I gently applied pressure to his knot with my spit-moistened glove, it was enough for him. He gnashed his teeth, huffed deeply, and began spurting down my throat.

I could have held my breath a little longer, swallowed a bit more of his seed, except that I heard the Priestess cry out as the pregnant Noble screamed shrilly. I knew immediately the magic had been disrupted.

Wait...disrupted by deep throating? Or the Draegloth's release...?

Kerse had jumped back from me at the twin female shrieks; not far, but enough to withdraw out of my mouth entirely and start painting my face with his semen as he continued squirting his creamy fluid.

"Fuck!" I cursed, trying to aim his rod away and wipe at one stinging eye.

He whimpered and reached to close his hand over mine to keep stroking. More semen lanced and splattered over my forearm, my thigh, my shoulder—my red armor, of course.

The Draegloth didn't have the luxury of a long and drawn-out orgasm as he had when locked inside my body. This time, with the magic quickly dissipating and the two on the nursing couch finally becoming aware, he squeezed out his ejaculate with only the handful of shots before staggering back from me, crouching lower to the ground and trembling. He kept his thighs open and his hands away from a no doubt sensitive penis, still stiff and lolling in the air with his loincloth askew.

I licked at my lips and tasted the salty fluid, looked over my hands and arms and chest and I knew there was little chance I could prevent Wilsirathon from deducing exactly what had happened. I probably had Kerse's spunk in my hair as well. She'd catch me wiping to clean myself...but I still opted to try.

I ended up grabbing the cloth stained with my blood taken from Auslan's room to wipe the seed from my face. The next moment I heard Curgia collapse onto the floor and Wilsira growl in frustration.

Here we go.

When I looked at her, I could tell the Priestess was still weak and disoriented. Such an abrupt end to that trance had left her blinking toward the ceiling and struggling to catch her breath.

My hand hovered over the hilt of a dagger. Lolth, it was so tempting...the first time I'd seen her weak, vulnerable...

Kerse shifted back into my vision and bared his sharp teeth at me, warning me not to even try.

Right. He still remembered which side of his meal had the glaze. Never mind him leaving *his* glaze on my face. My eye still stung a bit.

I sighed and moved my hand farther away from the dagger, tucking away the stained cloth, and looked at Curgia instead. She was lying on her side and clutching her belly, her whole body tense with what seemed to be physical pain...or was it residual stress from the ritual?

I moved over to her and knelt, checking her pulse—which was racing—and her breathing. She could only draw in air only around wet sobs of distress. She never opened her eyes, but along with the sweat on her face...I thought I saw tears dripping out.

"...help," she whimpered, not even knowing who was over her.

Her legs shifted, and that was when I saw the clear fluid mixed with blood now soaking her skirts.

Wilsira drew in a haggard breath and, as I felt her eyes land on me, she growled again. "Sira-"

"She's miscarrying," I interrupted the Priestess with a hard edge to my voice.

Certainly I didn't want my name to be given away so stupidly, whether Curgia would realize it or not, but it was more the fact that the Noble was now in one of those rare places within our society: no one was to take advantage of her vulnerable state while she dealt with the passing of young through her body and the immediate weakness following it. Whether or not that young lived was beside the point; for the next few cycles at least, the mother was untouchable.

That was not to say it would be the same for me. I hadn't realized it would be so easy to wreck Wilslira's ritual. Well...only so easy as if there was any other Drow in the Underdark who could have coaxed a Priestess's Draegloth to cum in the middle of a divine spell, and maybe cause some hellish power feedback...

But I was only guessing.

Oops.

I began to gather Curgia up to lift her off the ground; she was the best route toward distraction right now. It was far too late for the miscarriage to be of minimal risk, but too early for the unborn to be a viable birth; the Noble could easily die tonight. The baby definitely would, unless...

"Can you heal her, Priestess?"

When I finally looked at her, I had the hefty, curled body of the Noble as a type of shield between us. I think that actually worked in my favor this time, because Wilsira looked sapped of most of her energy and was watching me warily as she shook her head.

"No...I would need to... rest first." She hadn't wanted to admit that; she probably wouldn't have if I weren't carrying the Noble and had my hands full.

"You want the baby saved?"

Wilsilrathon seemed to consider, her attention turning inward toward whatever had been going on before. Then she shook her head slowly, sinking back in the couch. "No. We can't, anyway. I lost the..."

She stopped talking, rightfully knowing not to say more. She was indeed mind-scoured and disoriented to have slipped even that much. I noticed that Kerse wasn't looking at any of us; he was acting as if he was deaf. His loincloth had been righted.

"Release the ward on the door, Priestess," I said. "I need to take her out."

She shook her head and her voice was raspy. "It's already gone."

I started to move. With luck Wilsirathon hadn't seen the semen on me. The door handle was more a lever that only needed to be elbowed downward to nudge the door open, much to my relief, and I came face-to-face with Shyntre on the other side.

His wide, crimson eyes caught a lot of detail; I'd have to find out what exactly later. He moved back out of my way and let me come through.

"What—?"

"Can you heal?" I asked brusquely.

The intelligent wizard didn't need further description as he glanced at the still-moaning Noble clutching my cloak in a death grip at my shoulder.

"Not this kind," he said. "I have gems, they're indiscriminate and heal everything. Not predictable for something like this, one damaged body inside another. You need an actual healing mage with precision."

I nodded and moved past him; he did not follow me.

It was time to wake up the Matron Italunia, though I did pause to use a non-stained part of Curgia's shirt to make sure Kerse's spending was completely wiped off my face before I did. I'd gotten most of it before, but just in case.

The most interesting thing to hear next, after Itlaunia had gotten over her initial shock and led me into her own quarters to set her daughter on her own bed, was what she said to the servant:

"Go wake the Consort, bring him here. Quickly."

Her first choice of a summons was the Consort, not the Priestess?

Auslan arrived fairly soon, glancing at me with a bit of alarm that almost looked natural before he went to the bed, putting his hand on Curgia's hot, damp forehead. Suspiciously, Shyntre knocked on the door the next moment and said the Priestess was summoning me. I had been required to leave the Matron's room, though I had most certainly not wished to.

So interesting. Was I to assume the "pretty plaything" had some healing ability...possibly only as it pertained to fertility and pregnancies, a midwife or sorts, or perhaps he was an outright mage of the healing arts? Was that common among Consorts or specialized somehow?

*You have so many hidden talents, my Auslan.*

****

Wilsirathon blamed the miscarriage on me when talking to the Matron later on. Curgia was alive but had nearly bled to death trying to birth the stillborn fetus. The Matron said it was only the gift of the Consort that she was still alive and may yet heal enough to try again to breed.

"The Red Sister overheard my discussion with your daughter," Wilsirathon murmured, only quiet enough to convince the Matron that I couldn't hear, standing guard at the far end of the room as I was. "I finally got her to tell me who was the sire of her child. That was why the Red Sister attacked her and caused the miscarriage."

Itlaunia had straightened up more, her thin lips pursing together. "But...the timing was right for the Consort...though I admit she wouldn't have hidden it from me were that the case. And that twisted creature that came out of her...! Thank Lolth it didn't live. What happened?"

Wilsira looked appropriately sympathetic. "Curgia told me she had imbibed too many spirits at the worship ball. She had been so jealous to see Tulia mount the Consort on the altar. She doesn't remember much of it, and for a while truly believed it to have been a horrible dream. However it would seem that she did couple with a Draegloth while at Court. The proof was right there in her belly."

"But...who...?"

The Priestess sat straight and nodded elegantly. "I will do what I can to find out which half-breed may have taken advantage like that, or whether it was a rival of mine, an intentional move against your House. The Draegloth all know the punishment is dire if they are caught, whether by direction or opportunity, so he will say nothing. I will have to find the Priestess and that may take time."

Itlaunia had nodded. "I am grateful for your support and attention to this matter. We've worked hard to earn your matronage, Wilsirathon, and if this is intentional by another Priestess, then please use it as you see fit to take down your rival."

After a mutual nod and a pause, the Matron continued, "The Red Sister...she..." She tried very hard not to glance my way. "Why did she...?"

"Why did she what?"

"Why did she crush my daughter's abdomen and kill the creature growing there, only to carry her to my door for healing?"

Wilsirathon smiled. "It was the most painful method, and the clearest message. Wouldn't you agree?"

Itlaunia hesitated like she wasn't sure, but she nodded. "But...we didn't do anything intentionally wrong..."

"Curgia kept her shameful secret and wronged you and your House in the process. The Red Sister was warning you, but it seems you are being given another chance by the Sisterhood."

"Will we see more of them?"

"I cannot say. Only remain faithful, pay your tithes, and I will help you from Sanctuary."

*Covering your tracks pretty damned well, Priestess,* I thought.

I sighed inwardly as I stood guard. Yes, it could be argued I'd killed the quarterbreed and started the Noble's hemorrhage; I'd interrupted the ritual by distracting Kerse, causing the backlash of power that left all involved drained and the potential payoff unfulfilled.

But that was only the very last act. Wilsirathon had trapped the Noble into a breeding in the first place; she had coerced and intimidated and blackmailed the poor fool for over a year. She had placed the pregnant Drow on her own lap and had been doing something...something that was causing some kind of damage. The Priestess had had bloody fingernail marks in her wrists and forearms as she'd sat there, weak and recovering on the couch. Curgia had been trying to fight her.