Chapter Text
The halls of the Midrei Convent in Carindar's capital were resonant with the sound of study. Renowned for the wise, learned young women it produced, the Convent often saw much competition for a place in its coveted classrooms.
Hunkered down in the back of one of these rooms, Sierra tried not to be noticed by Sister Avenia, tried to hide from her sharp gaze as much as she could. Competition there was for her place, but she’d never wanted it and she didn’t want Sister Avenia’s attention even more.
“Darling, do sit up and pay attention, would you?” Her cane came down hard on Sierra’s shoulder, the pain burning through her. “Wasting my time is not on the agenda today, no matter how much fun that might bring to us both.”
She froze, hand halfway to her shoulder, and looked down. Her fingers trembled with the effort, her eyes watering as she mumbled out an apology. The bruise she would earn later from the blow was nothing to the shame that came with Avenia’s words.
“Better. Now, tell me my darling. What are the foundations necessary for shaping the realms?”
She bit her tongue to stop herself from stuttering, trying to recall the texts she’d forced herself to study, to memorise.
“Chaos in order, entropy in growth…” She swallowed again. “Noise in silence and darkness in light.”
“Oh darling, you’ve never not been a disappointment, have you?” Sierra looked away at that, the humiliation from her peers’ laughter echoing in her until Avenia’s voice cut in. “Now that we have the texts’ version, tell me what the foundations are.”
“Darkness,” she mumbled. “Chaos, rot, life, light, order.”
She looked at her hands, nails digging little half-moons into her palm as she tried to work through yet another lash. Cane met flesh and Avenia smiled, sharp, hungry. She didn’t need to see it to feel it, to feel the weight of it against her skull. She didn’t need to look to see the dangerous fondness she kept trying to escape, futile though her attempts may have been.
She just knew.
She always knew, had learnt to recognise it from the moment she walked through the Convent’s front doors. There was no secrecy to it, no…decency. It just was, in all its indecent, decadent glory, making her flinch any time she gave it thought.
“Excellent work, darling. You will be well rewarded for your diligence, as…unnecessary as it might have been.”
She held herself still, tried not to let the disgust that roiled through her show. It was a poor job of it, her attempt to hide the shudder that passed through her body, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt it fully, the weight of meaning those words bore, knew best that it was futile to resist and yet…and yet…
Avenia left her there, left her to rot in her own self-hatred as she moved on to her next victim. It was always like this, always hurt and disgust and putrid self-revulsion that never ceased to consume her for hours on end.
What felt like hours dragged by, her scribing an aching wound in a silence that begged not to be disturbed. There was nothing she could do about her shoulder, nothing she could do about the pain that came and went with each dull throb until there was nothing but the burning of it all and her own self-pitying thoughts.
She would run, if she could, but her brother’s face, so young, so innocent, kept her rooted in her seat, determined to find better for herself, for him. She would do this, would put up with it all for that child, put up even with all the things Avenia made her want to flee from.
It was only when the class had come to a blissful, happy end, that Sierra left, her feet dragging her through the renowned, hallowed halls of the Convent. Slowly, she made her way to the doors, glad to have the day over and done with as she began the tedious journey home.
Girls like her were not rare, day students at the Convent a dime a dozen. Many paid handsomely for the chance to have their daughters educated by the sisters, to give them the sort of power that was often only reserved for sons while holding onto them like prized possessions.
The god blessed, however…
She tried not to think about it, tried not to think about how much rarer they were, how the Convent coveted her very presence amongst its students. She didn’t ask for this, didn’t want to be chosen by one who represented destruction, chaos. She didn’t want to travel so far from home, only to find herself in her own personal hell.
“Triak for your thoughts?”
The man that broke through her self-pity grinned as he moved to walk in front of her, back to the crowd. His smile was bright against his sun-browned face, sandy hair flopping against his forehead in brilliant contrast. She often wondered if he dyed it.
“Go away,” she said, but her smile whispered otherwise, she knew. “I don’t have time for you this evening, Horan.”
He pressed a palm to the front of his chest. “I’m offended. You should always have time for me. I’m an absolute delight and a shining beacon in your life.”
“Are you?”
She stopped long enough to examine a loaf of bread from a nearby stall. They were in the markets now, a haphazard, chaotic maze of vendors that had grown around the Convent in the hopes of enticing coin from the day students and their escorts.
The scents of spices and meats reminded her of the need for dinner, her younger brother waiting patiently at their small room for her. He would be out of his own classes by now, their elderly neighbour ready to return him to her, too old to actually care for him for very long.
“Come on. Play with me a while, young Sierra. There’s no time like the present.”
She could indulge him, could stop and play for a few minutes, but Sierra knew her responsibilities, couldn’t leave Tim to his own devices for very long. He needed her, needed to eat even more than she did, and playing with Horan would take her away from him far longer than she wanted to be.
“How much for this?” she said to the vendor instead, waving the loaf around. “And those meat pies?”
“Half a triak for the loaf. Two a-piece for the pies.”
“Two? I think you’re placing too much value on your goods.”
“And you too much value on that education of yours, young miss. I’ll give all of it to you for three and a half triak.”
“It’s not worth that. Two and a half.”
“Three, and I’ll throw in a fresh bun for that little brother of yours, girl.”
She grinned and pulled her coin purse from her belt. “It’s always fun, haggling with you, sir.”
The vendor waved her away with her goods and a grumble. She didn’t miss his smile, but she didn’t comment on it either. She kept her silence and moved on, forcing herself not to linger despite the allure of the bolts of cloth in the stall opposite. She would give anything to touch them, to let the velvety-smooth looking material flow through her fingers, but now was not the time.
Heron danced in front of her, relieving her of her goods as they walked. When she scowled and tried to get them back, he only grinned and held them out of her reach, almost playing with her.
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he said. “You study too hard and work even harder. You need a rest and that little brother of yours would be more than happy to see it, I’d wager.”
“Heron, I have to cook.” She made another attempt for her goods. “If I don’t, Tim will starve for the night and then what? I need to take care of my brother.”
“Bring him with you. I would never dream of denying the little wild cat his sister.”
She raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly how he’d denied him of herself before, but she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t when he was looking at her with those bright, sparkling eyes that begged for her attention, made her knees weaken a little.
“Our entertainment for the night will be more than appropriate for the kid’s ears, if that’s your concern.”
She shook her head. Heron was persistent, she would give him that.
“Si! Si! Look! The lights!”
Tim pulled her through the crowd, his dark curls bouncing all too close to the ground as he ran. She tried to keep up, her grip on his hand firm, sometimes too firm, but she didn’t let go. She didn’t want to lose him, too scared of what might happen.
“Si! I wanna see!”
“Slow down,” she mumbled, pulling him close. “You’ll get lost if you keep going like that.”
Her words seemed to have some effect on him, Tim clinging to her as he looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. “I don’t wanna lose you.”
She picked him up and held him close, his lighter skin a contrast to her much more tanned arms. It didn’t matter though, not to her. He was her little brother, and nothing would change that. Nothing could change it, no matter what anyone said when they saw him.
“Ah! There’s our princess!”
She snorted and shook her head at Heron, the man and his crew making her smile despite herself. They danced their way through the crowds, light on their feet and quick with their fingers. She was sure that the end of the night would see them with a small fortune, enough to keep them in their cups for a while.
She didn’t mind. As long as they didn’t influence her brother too much, she didn’t care what they did. It was none of her business anyway.
“My fair lady,” a young, dark sailor with a thin, melodic voice said, “your presence is requested this night at our humble lodgings.”
She giggled at that, offering him her arm. Once they were wrapped together at the limb, he reached over and ruffled Tim’s hair. He groaned in response.
“Bad Drey! Don’t mess my hair.”
Drey offered him a smile she’d seen used to charm too many tavern girls to count. “And what of it, little Timmy? Your sister’s a fine lass, but she doesn’t know how rakishly charming a man can be with unruly curls.”
His eyes widened and it was Sierra’s turn to groan as he looked at him in awe. “I wanna be charming!”
“That’s the spirit, my little man! Don’t you worry. We’ll teach you all you need to know to win over the ladies.”
He wrinkled his nose at that. “Gross.”
“Gross indeed,” she finally cut in, holding Timae a little closer. “These idiots won’t be teaching you a thing about that while you’re shorter than I am.”
“I’m not short!”
She smiled and nuzzled him, inhaling his baby scent as he pressed himself closer to her. She would do anything for him, would do anything to keep him safe, even if she had to reshape the very earth to do it.
Horan smiled at her, eyes twinkling as he walked beside Drey. It made her feel good, that smile, the company. It made her feel like she could do no wrong that night, feel like she was immortal in a way she’d not felt before.
“So,” Drey drawled, eyes shining in the firelight around them, “shall we?”
Fae lounged in her seat, cup held loosely against the leg she had thrown across the arm of her chair, as she looked at Sierra. The tawny skinned woman was timid as she walked in, the lingering traces of joy evident in her dark eyes as she looked around. She would have to rid of her of that timidity one day, would have to make her relax, but not tonight when she had the boy with her.
She wanted to break her, to make her bend for her and her only, but she reigned her desires in, painting a sly smile on her lips that hid her intentions, albeit purposely poor in nature. She didn’t want to do this tonight, but she wouldn’t hide it all the way either. Better for Sierra to know than to be caught completely by surprise.
“My lady captain,” she said, coming to a stop in front of Fae with a bow that could only be described as mocking. Oh, the kitten has claws. “You wished to see me?”
She leaned forward, taking the girl’s face into her hands. The boy squirmed restlessly between them, and she absentmindedly ruffled his hair before calling for one of her men. “Take him to see the fire jugglers.”
“My lady captain, I must-”
She silenced her with a finger to her lips. “I give you my word, no harm shall come to him.”
Drey and Horan took the child, their voices merry and loud as they set off. The boy’s presence felt like a loss, oddly, but she was glad to be rid of the two men. They were a distraction, unnecessary and bawdy in the worst of ways for what she intended this night as she pulled Sierra close. Her fingers cupped the other woman’s cheek, bringing her close enough to feel her breath against her lips.
“I’ve missed you, my darling.”
“That’s one of us.”
She pouted, simpering a little. “Did you not miss me while I was away?”
“Not one bit.” Sierra pulled away, took a step back. There was a defiant fire in her eyes that made her shiver with delight. She could barely wait to try to break her.
“Come now,” she said, reaching for her again. She pulled her onto her lap, her grip on Sierra’s hip brooking no argument. She was denied once. She would not be denied again, no matter how much she favoured her. “You and I both know that, were it not for your borther, you would be in my bed. Why deny it?”
Sierra shrugged, though she made no move to retreat again. “You think you’re charming and irresistible but really, you’re just a brute.”
Fae laughed. She’d heard that one before, but it still amused her. If only she knew how brutish she could be.
Drawing her hand slowly across Sierra’s hip, she leaned in close. She missed this, missed her. It was inexplicable, really, the way that this woman had captured her very imagination, tormented her waking hours with her very existence. She’d never been one to stay in one bed for long, straying much too often to develop feelings, but a fleeting taste of her had never been enough.
She’d never even taken the woman. Her resistance had always been pronounced, even when it wavered just enough to give her hope, and Fae had respected that. She had respected Sierra enough to even include the woman’s little brother in her parties, made it so that the child was always entertained.
“Ay, if it isn’t the blasted deviant pirate and her whore.”
Sierra stiffened on top of her, tried to get away then, but Fae was having none of it. Calmly, she rubbed her arms and back, motioned to her men to take care of the fool who thought to intrude on their time together.
Still, she wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t grace Fae with a gaze she knew to be clever, full of a wit she didn’t often care to look for. Instead, she just looked away, looked at the wall as she spoke with a low voice.
“You’re a coward.”
“Pardon me?”
“Hiding behind your men, unwilling to face your problems, and yet you think you can get me to sleep with you as easily as all the other girls who’ve fallen for your petty little act.”
Her words dug beneath her skin, challenged her in a way she was not used to. Angry now, she eased Sierra off of her (never, never treating her roughly, never treating her as less than she deserved to be) and marched out of the tavern.
The man was big, a burly old thing with a tattoo of the snake god on his shoulder. She’d never been a fan of Shidon, finding him a bit too pacifist for her tastes, a bit too intolerant in instances that mattered too much for her.
The men had him tied down, brought to his knees as their circled him with taunting words. Normally, she’d hang back, enjoy the show they loved to put on, but she had no patience in that moment, could not stop the echo of Sierra’s words in her ears. Grabbing one of the men, she ripped his sword from the sheath at his waist and levelled it at the man’s throat.
“Give me one good reason why I should spare you.”
“Filthy asmodye,” he growled, spitting at her. “Your so-called mercy is worth nothing in the face of his.”
She wiped at the spittle, cleaning her hand on his shirt in disgust. “So be it, then. May your god treat you better than you treat those around you.”
Spinning, she lopped off his head. Before the body could fall, she tossed the blade onto the ground next to it and walked off. Her mood was foul now, not fit for company as she wandered back into the tavern and called for more drink. Her cups were more welcome than Sierra now, not that the woman deemed her worthy of her attention.
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t know what to say now anyway.