~7. Separation~
Kitty, Age 20
“Kitty, attend to me at once.”
Kitty nearly jumped out of her skin at the harsh voice that summoned her, a voice she didn’t recognize. It was a male voice, incredibly similar to Toloruel’s, but not quite the same. She rose quickly from where she had been on her hands and knees, scrubbing away at dried blood on the Spider Queen’s altar. The other slaves around her began to grumble, as if she wasn’t being called away to something much worse than preparing the chapel for the next sacrifice.
She hopped off the altar and wiped her hands surreptitiously on her apron, glancing up quickly to gauge the direction of the one who called her. She was so surprised to see it had been Rismyn that she nearly forgot to drop her gaze again. It had been so long since he had spoken harshly to her that she hadn’t realized it was him.
She hurried towards him and curtsied low, as she would have done for any of his siblings, more bewildered than afraid of this strange occurrence. Whatever the reason he had for finding her in the middle of the day, the thought that it could be for something dreadful never even crossed her mind. Not even when he turned away abruptly and stode off, nearly forcing her to run to keep up.
It was typical drow behavior, although Rismyn was anything but typical. In the nine years that she had come to know him, the worst thing he ever did to her was get annoyed when she challenged his viewpoints. Then he would either insult her or sulk about it, more the latter than the former these days. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t actually remember the last time he had purposely insulted her, and he usually apologized when he did so by accident.
They left the chapel and Kitty expected them to take the passage to the left, towards the unused broom closet they had claimed as their refuge almost four years ago. It had been perfect for their needs, situated in a hallway so out of the way that it was rarely traveled by anyone. The room was small and sparse, but there was enough space for them to sit comfortably together and the walls were thick enough no one could hear her sing. It had become Kitty’s favorite room, for it was the one chamber in all of Menzoberranzan that held only pleasant memories for her.
But Rismyn didn’t lead them to their refuge. Instead, he took the passage right, towards the main entrance of the chapel grounds. She felt the first pang of fear, for there were bound to be more eyes to see them there. What if Rismyn was leading her somewhere dreadful, by order of one of his siblings? She wanted to step closer to him and ask, but didn’t dare risk it. They were alone now, but any second a soldier or house guard could appear.
At last, Rismyn stopped in front of a door and opened it, gesturing for Kitty to go in first. Kitty didn’t move, however, as she stared at the silver spider painted on the black stone door. This was a cleric’s ritual room. She didn’t know exactly what went on in these rooms, but she had been in them afterwards to clean. Sulfur and blood, and other vile things she didn’t want to think about. Forgetting the risk, she looked up at Rismyn, frightened. “Why…?” she asked, unable to form more.
“For privacy,” he said, gesturing again for her to go in with a quick glance around the hall. “Hurry!”
His voice had returned to the same cadence she knew, and she relaxed a little. She did as he bid and hurried across the threshold. As she entered, torches around the octagonal room lit, bathing them in warm, orange light. She blinked several times as her eyes adjusted, unused to seeing the world in the natural spectrum.
The room itself was empty, just a wide expanse of stone floor. Normally a priestess would have the slaves tote in whatever it was she needed for whatever ritual she was planning to perform. Since there was nothing in the room, it meant it was highly unlikely that he had brought her here for one of his sisters. Still, nothing about this made sense to her.
“Why here?” she asked, feeling bold again now that the door had shut behind them.
“In case we were being watched,” Rismyn answered, as he bolted the door and turned to face her. “I didn’t want anyone finding our sanctuary.”
The answer made sense, and left her feeling strangely warm. Kitty looked up at him and smiled. Now nearly twenty years old, Rismyn no longer resembled the awkward little boy she had met so long ago. He still wore his silver hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and still had a touch of softness about his features, but the rest of him had been shaped and hardened under four years of intense physical training. Kitty worried when he started spending most of each day with Matron Xatel’s chief killer, but though Rismyn’s presence and confidence had grown, his temper had not. He remained the same unusual drow she had grown to enjoy.
Though Kitty smiled at Rismyn, he didn’t smile back. Instead, he looked away and shifted a little, fingering the hilt of the short sword he was now permitted to carry.
Kitty frowned and stepped towards him. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You never come for me during the day like this. Has something happened?”
“No,” he said, then shook his head. “I mean, yes, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
“Okay…” Kitty said, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her toes, waiting.
Rismyn glanced at her again, looked away, then back. This time, he held her gaze. “I’m leaving for Melee-Magthere.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh,” she said, covering her surprise. “Right now?”
“No, three days. Naydyn just informed me.”
Strangely, Kitty’s heart sank with the news. Melee-Magthere was the school for noble born sons, where they trained their Rismyns to become Toloruels. She knew he would be going eventually, even knew the day was coming soon, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. He would be gone for ten years. Ten full years. Who knew who he would be when he came back?
She wasn’t prepared for how sad this news made her. Though she wasn’t sure why. He was just another drow that she served, albeit serving him was far more pleasant than serving the others. Why did she feel like she was losing a bit of her heart?
But she couldn’t let him see her sorrow. Rismyn wanted comfort and encouragement from her. She smiled and clapped her hands together. “Oh, Rismyn, this is wonderful! It’s what you’ve always wanted. You must be so happy.”
A shadow of a smile touched his lips. “Nervous, really,” he admitted. Quite nervous, by the looks of it.
Kitty’s own smile faded a little. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Rismyn nodded, not meeting her gaze again. He took a breath, then said hurriedly, “I need you to release me from your enchantment.”
Kitty blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Please, Kitty,” Rismyn said, his nerves turning into desperation. He stepped forward and clasped her shoulders. “I’ve barely kept the secret from my sisters and my mother. I’ll never be able to keep it secret at Tier Breche.”
“I’m...not sure I’m following,” Kitty said, completely bewildered.
“The enchantment that you put on me when we first met,” he said. “I’ll be so close to Sorcere and Arach-Tinilith. The wizard and clerics will know I’ve been enchanted and I’ll be put to death. Please, free me!”
Kitty could only stare in disbelief, unable to process his requests. After several attempts to order her thoughts and speak, she finally blurted out, “Rismyn, I’ve never put any enchantment on you. I don’t even know how to use magic!”
“But you have,” Rismyn insisted. He stepped closer to her and his grip tightened.
Kitty instinctively stepped back. She tried to pull out of his grasp but he didn’t let her go. There was an earnest desperation in his eyes that frightened her. “No, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He stepped in again and she stepped back once more. He was tall, for a drow male, even taller than Toloruel. She had to look up to meet his gaze. Suddenly, his expression changed from desperate to thoughtful. “Oh, I understand.”
“Good, because I don’t.” She stepped back once more as he closed the distance again.
“You’re afraid I’ll hurt you if you let me go,” Rismyn said, nodding to himself. “Or I’ll tell someone what you’ve done. Well, I swear I won’t. You can even put it back on me when I come back. I just can’t go to Melee-Magthere feeling like this.”
“The only thing I am afraid of right now is you,” Kitty said. She stepped back again and her back hit the wall. She squeaked as he placed his hands on either side of her, effectively trapping her. “Please, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said, gently. “You know I’m incapable of hurting you.” He lifted a hand and caressed her cheek with his knuckle. “If I give you what you want, will you let me go?”
Real fear turned her blood to ice. The same sort of fear that Toloruel drew out of her, only for very different reasons. She no longer feared that Rismyn was going to hit her. She feared something much worse. “I want you to step away from me,” she said, trying to sound strong. Rismyn had never liked her when she was subservient, and she didn’t dare enrage him now.
“We both know that’s not true,” he said, and the crooked smile he gave her was all too reminiscent of his brother. She’d never before noticed the likeness of their features. “You’ve had me spellbound all these years. I tried to fight it at first, but I wasn’t strong enough.” The hand on her cheek slipped into her hair, running his fingers through the full length of it. His other hand slid down the wall and anchored itself on the small of her back. “I’m not mad. The truth is, I like it. I like the way you make me feel. It’s okay.”
Kitty was horrified. She wanted to step back again but she was already as far back as the wall would allow. Besides, his hands held her firmly in place. “Rismyn, you’re confused,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ve done no such thing to you. Please stop this.”
“You stop it first.” The hand that tantalized her hair cradled her head, tilting it back. “You’re the one in control here, not me.”
Then, his lips came down on the nape of her neck leaving a trail of kisses to her collarbone that felt like fire drops on her skin.
Kitty gasped and tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her and drew her against his body. Her mind went completely blank, her body stiff and rigid. It was a reflex, her body’s way of coping with Toloruel’s madness. But Toloruel had never touched her like this; this was the one torment she was certain she was safe from. She was a faerie, after all. The mortal enemy of the drow. They were supposed to be repulsed by her.
Rismyn returned from his journey to her shoulder and nuzzled her temple, breathing deep as though breathing her in. “So long,” he muttered, and Kitty wasn’t entirely sure he was speaking to her anymore. “I’ve loved you for so long…”
The word hit her like Toloruel’s worst gut punch.
He said love. He didn’t say desire, the closest drow equivalent. He had used love. The Common word she had taught him. The real, selfless word she had endeavored to teach him about by his request. The love she had learned from watching her mother and father.
He said he loved her.
A sack full of coal-hot rage ripped loose in her soul. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she placed her hands on his chest and shoved.
Rismyn hadn’t been on guard against such things. He stumbled back, his hands releasing her in his surprise as his eyes snapped open.
“You can’t love me,” Kitty snarled, her entire being burning with contempt. “Because drow aren’t capable of love.”
So many times, when Tolotuel hit her, Kitty never saw it coming. She merely found herself on the ground with her jaw smarting. This, she saw. As if time itself wanted to watch, her gaze followed as Rismyn’s hand rose in slow motion and came at her face. As though it traveled through water. She shut her eyes and braced herself for the impact, which sent her staggering.
She tasted blood in her mouth.
Kitty put a hand to her bruising cheek, looking up at him with fury unabated. “You see what I mean?”
Rismyn stared at her with unabashed horror. He looked to his hand, as if confused by its actions, then back at her. Then, he fled.
It was all over that fast. Kitty sank to her knees, her hands clasping her chest as her heart quite literally ached. She couldn’t wrap her head around what had just happened. It had to have been a mistake, or a dream. This couldn’t be real. Rismyn could not have just tried to...tried to…
She could still feel the phantom sensation of his lips on her skin, his hand through her hair. A torrent of anguish bubbled up inside of her, and she cried out, uncaring if anyone heard. Her vision blurred as tears began to rain on Lolth’s unholy ground.
Of course Rismyn could have tried that. He was a drow. He had no heart, just a shadow of what used to be one. When had she stopped being on guard around him? When was the last time she looked at him and saw him for what he was: a danger and a threat? She doubled over and beat her fist on the stone, trying to find an outlet, any outlet, for the strange internal pain gnawing away at her core.
Why did it hurt so much? She was used to being used by drow. She was used to being used by Rismyn. Toloruel wanted her agony and her screams. Rismyn wanted her comfort and encouragement. Certainly Rismyn had been more gratifying to serve. Sure, she had fantasized once or twice that he cared about her, that he was her friend. But that was just that: a fantasy. She always knew, always acknowledged, that he was a drow, incapable of caring.
So why did she feel so viscerally betrayed?
Perhaps it was the word. Love. How dare he toss it in her face like that! And what was that nonsense about enchanting him? If she had such power, she would have bewitched Toloruel long ago into letting her go. How could he have thought that? What gave him the idea?
Maybe it wasn’t really Rismyn. Or more likely, perhaps one of his sisters had compelled him as a cruel joke on her. Yes! That had to be it. Even though she seemed alone, they could be watching her right now, laughing at her sorrow. She needed to stop crying. She needed to get up and go back to scrubbing blood with the goblins.
The thought brought a fresh torrent of tears to her eyes. She knew it wasn’t true. This had all been his doing. Rismyn had hit her. He had struck her with the back of his hand, like every other drow in his family. Somewhere along the way, she had swallowed the lie that he was different, that she could trust him. It had been such a subtle deception. He’d crawled under her heart, probably exploited her need to feel a connection with another being. Had that been the goal of his torture all along? Make her fall in lo—
Kitty gasped, going still as a statue. She had been letting her thoughts run rampant and wild, not caring what they turned out to be, until that last one. Fortunately, she had caught herself in time before she finished it. It couldn’t be true, it had just been the fruit of her mad raving.
But now that the idea had almost manifested in her mind, it hovered about the periphery of her consciousness, demanding to be entertained. Kitty shook her head wildly as another geyser of grief spilled from her eyes. No, no, no. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true! There were a thousand other reasons that her heart ached the way it did, and none of them had to do with that.
Kitty knelt on the floor for a very, very long time searching for those reasons. By the end of it, she was forced to accept the truth her heart had been trying to tell her all along. Although she wholeheartedly believed it was impossible for a drow to love, she had allowed herself to love a drow.
It was the only thing that made sense. She had lectured him over and over on the subject, described the actions one took for someone they loved. She listed the attributes now, trying to talk herself out of the conclusion she was coming to.
Love was patient. Like the way she patiently endured his ridicule of her faerie heritage, until he finally understood that meekness was not the same as weakness.
Love was kind. As kind as offering healing to him, when he’d taken another beating. How many times had she shared her balm with him, once Toloruel got around to giving her more?
Love was humble. Quietly supporting his dreams as he moved from the same as her–a slave–to a member of his own family. Still mistreated, but no longer the same.
Love was selfless. Singing songs at his request when all she wanted to do was sleep.
Love didn’t resent. Delighting in his company, even though he was a drow.
Love always protected.
How many beatings had she taken on purpose, to distract Toloruel from his intentions for his brother? Whenever Rismyn succeeded at anything, whether it be his apprenticeship under Naydyn or earning his house-armor and weapons, Toloruel felt it like a personal attack. He would fume and rave about how to end the threat of the secondboy, and Kitty would spill a drink. Or “accidentally” get in his way. Whatever it took to absorb his wrath, until he decided Rismyn could wait to be dealt with.
And love always trusted.
How could she be so stupid? She had trusted him, and he betrayed her. Never in all her twenty years had she experienced a pain like this, not even when Toloruel slit her mother’s throat. She had been shocked into numbness then and too frightened to grieve afterwards. Her sorrow for her family had settled gradually over her, like a second skin. It had been a slow pain, a creeping toxin.
This was a blade to the lung. Not the heart, for then it would be over quickly. Instead she choked on her own blood, waiting for death but unable to taste it. Floundering in her misery and helpless to stop it.
How could she possibly love a drow? Or a better question, how could she stop loving a drow?
Despair resolved like fog over her soul. Rismyn was leaving in three days. She might never see him again. It was no secret that not every student made it home from Melee-Magthere. And if his body survived, would his heart? Would he come back the same Rismyn who wanted her to sing and discussed the philosophies of life with her?
Could she bear to see him again, after what had just happened? He could never love her. He could only use her.
What if things had gone differently? What if he hadn’t come at her with madness and desperation, but in the same soft spoken fashion she had come to associate with him? Would she have shoved him away then, or would she have let it go further?
The questions made her tremble, and frankly a little sick. Her parents had raised her with different views. Her mother had taught her to guard herself against such things. It had been Mindra who finished her education, crudely and contemptuously when her womanhood graced her. The only instruction she’d been given then was not to breed unless commanded.
Kitty shuddered and curled into herself. She didn’t want to have these thoughts. And it didn’t matter, anyways. Rismyn was gone, lost to her. She had humiliated him in the worst way, and he had proved his true heart to her. He was a drow, a dark elf, like his brother before him. He was incapable of love, but quite capable of hate.
Her eyes, which had grown dry, moistened again and she wept.
Forsaken by Shadows is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.
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