OCxOC Commission
Characters: Alysace and Yaela
Word Count: 4600
For all the paranoia and precautions Louis de Lomanteau was known for, sneaking back into his castle had been almost laughably easy. Perhaps it was the years of training that sharpened Yaela’s skills… or perhaps his age was finally catching up to him. Either way, the gala was a perfect cover for her to slip back inside; it was full of faces new and old, hidden beneath layers of makeup and minor enchantments. She hadn’t needed to do much at all to look presentable, aside from acquiring a fancy outfit that definitely meant she had to avoid getting into a fight tonight.
Besides, the look on Louis’s face the moment she strode into the ballroom was worth it. He was positioned on the slightly raised dais at the far end of the room, allowing him to look over the reception and clock possible marks for his political deals, occasionally stepping down to shake hands or kiss wrists in carefully measured smiles. But when Yaela walked in, all pretense of politeness vanished - for the briefest of moments, but long enough for her to offer the fakest of smiles in return. The tips of Louis’s ears turned red as his face scrunched like someone had cast a stinking cloud in his vicinity, murderous intent glinting in his eyes before he managed to compose himself before all his valued guests. The click of her heels had been loud, too loud, on her approach, like they’d been counting down the seconds to a reckoning. But now, the sound was lost beneath the music and inane chatter. It was too easy to disappear into the crowd; where at first she’d been concerned the shock of white in her hair would draw attention, it garnered little more than mildly intrigued glances in the face of opulent hairpins and swirling styles in many of the noble ladies’ outfits.
Yaela wanted little more than to call out Louis right then and there in front of all the people he was trying to impress and scream about all his crimes and torture. The words burned in her throat, but who would believe a random half-elf with no proof other than her words? How could she tell them to check the hidden catacombs beneath the castle where surely there were traps, false leads, and all sorts of obfuscation to prevent discovery? What if he’d moved any sign of his actions after her escape so long ago, suspecting one day she’d return seeking that very proof?
For now, all she could do is hope maybe his anger at her presence here tonight could trigger a heart attack, or perhaps an aneurysm. He deserved far worse, but anything that led to his death would be acceptable in her opinion.
Espionage was much harder than assassination. It required patience, and patience Yaela did not have in abundance. By the third inane conversation, her face hurt from sustaining the fake smiles. By the fifth, her fingers twitched towards her hip where her blades should have been if not for her fancy dress every time a nobleman’s eyes sized her up like she was an hors d'oeuvre from his plate.
Some of the conversations were worth the social pain, though. A noblewoman visiting from two counties over mentioned Louis approaching her with a proposal on import tax cuts into Tovar, to “help the common folk” as he put it, in exchange for priority consideration in exports from the city. She’d been apparently amused with Louis’s audacity, promising fruitful exports when the city was still grappling with the lingering zhakhma plague and had little to currently offer. A deep red tiefling claiming to be a count but was probably just accompanying his rich parents tried to charm her with a brag about Louis offering his family a vacation home in Tovar once the plague passed if they could help acquire rare herbs and alchemical ingredients for his “medicinal research to end the plague.” It took everything in Yaela’s self control to not dislocate his thumb when his hand drifted too low down her back, and she compensated by simply stepping away and remarking that “it would be a very long time before they got the key to that home”. Louis wasn’t exactly growing desperate, but he was making next-to-empty promises he probably would never be able to deliver on.
Maybe it was the shock of white hair amongst the sea of colors that caught her attention. Maybe it was the lithe, effortless way the woman danced through the crowd, the lack of performative socializing as she accepted compliments and turned away gossip. There was a glint in her silver eyes that matched the smirk on her lips as she scanned the crowd with a practiced, calculating gaze - one that matched Yaela’s as she’d socialized for one purpose: gathering intel.
The drow must have somehow sensed she was being watched, as before Yaela could tear her gaze away, the drow turned her head and stared right back at her. The smirk widened, just enough, and she changed her trajectory just enough to not seem direct as she approached. The high slit of her dress exposed toned legs, a confident stride despite her tall heels. Her dress was a deep crimson, dark like wine, which only enhanced the pale lavender of her skin.
Gods, she was gorgeous.
And standing right in front of Yaela.
She blinked, startled. Had she been so enraptured by the woman she’d failed to notice just how quickly she’d approached? Damn it, you’re trained better than this! Get a grip. One wrong move and all this effort is for nothing. Stay on guard.
The woman’s smirk transformed into a smile, though her eyes remained calculating. “Enjoying the party? The wine here is… exquisite. It makes conversation so much smoother when everyone is just a little tipsy, wouldn’t you agree?”
“The host leaves much to be desired,” Yaela replied bluntly. “Nobility like to talk about everything and nothing.”
“Perhaps I could offer more interesting conversation? I think we could both use a change of pace,” she said, extending a hand. “Though introductions are always polite in such company. You may call me Alysace.”
“Yaela,” she said, noticing the lack of a surname and reciprocating. She eyed the hand, wondering if she should shake it or brush it away. After waiting a few moments longer than polite, she reached out and took it.
In an instant, Alysace’s hand closed around hers with surprising strength, pulling her forward while simultaneously backing up. A sly grin lifted the corners of Alysace’s lips, matching an equally coy glint in her eye, and before Yaela knew it the two of them were on the dance floor. Before she could tactfully protest and retreat from the dozens upon dozens of eyes suddenly upon her, Alysace looped her other arm around Yaela’s waist and pulled her close to lead her in a waltz.
“My, the look in your eye is positively murderous,” Alysace murmured, the smirk never leaving her face. “But I’ve found that conversations held on a dance floor are far less likely to be eavesdropped on. People are too busy watching… other parts of the body.”
“You think someone was going to eavesdrop on us?”
“Oh, my dear, everyone is eavesdropping on each other tonight. Just like you’ve been doing. And me.” Alysace’s feet moved in practiced steps with zero hesitation like she’d been waltzing for years. She probably had, knowing drow lifespans. While Yaela’s dance training had been far less thorough than her combat training, she felt muscle memory take over as they kept moving across the ballroom - back, side, together, front, side, together, repeat. “But of everyone I’ve been watching tonight, you caught my attention.”
“And what, pray tell, do you think is so interesting about me? I’m simply here for the food and the company,” Yaela lied smoothly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read the smallest twitches and shifts in the drow’s expression. Damn, she’s good. “There are far richer people here with deeper pockets and darker secrets than anything I could give.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that. You, my dear, stand out like a sore thumb. No plus one, no gaudy costume like you have everything to prove and nothing to lose, and an eye for seeing through the bullshit. Not to mention the daggers you’ve been trading with the esteemed lord of the castle.” When Alysace twirled her around, Yaela caught a glimpse of Louis still up on his dais watching the two of them with a frown so deep his mouth practically disappeared into the wrinkles of his face. “So, indulge me. What brings someone like you to a party like this?”
“If I am to answer your questions, I think it only fair you answer mine in return,” she said as their waltz finally took them away from Louis, slowly moving back across the floor and mingling with the other couples doing their best to navigate dresses and heels not meant for close-quarters dancing. “You ask, I ask.”
Alysace spun her away, then pulled her back with just a little too much force, her hand once more wrapping around Yaela’s waist like an iron band. Their faces were close, her red eyes staring straight into Alysace’s silver ones. For a moment, sound around the two of them grew muffled, the lights fading away, and Yaela felt her legs grow numb like they might give out at any moment. All she could see was the silver of the drow’s eyes, gleaming slightly in the soft magical lighting dancing from the chandelier overhead. It was like she was falling into a mist, a mist that was clouding her mind, making it hard to think straight because why would she want to question this woman? Why stay closed off, to deny her, when they could be friends - or more? And then, Alysace blinked, and the sensation faded just as quickly as it had begun. The sounds of glasses clinking, fake laughter, and waltz music slammed back into her ears as her legs found their strength. The drow’s smirk softened slightly, becoming more of a simple smile.
“Yes. That’s fair. But I asked my question first.”
“Um…” she struggled to remember the question, still trying to shake the mist from her thoughts. “I suppose… curiosity. I’ve heard many tales and rumors about Louis - the lord de Lomanteau, and I wanted to see how accurate they were.”
“And?”
“I have yet to draw my conclusions,” she said, though that was only half-true. “That was two questions. So I get to ask two.”
“Technically, that was just a follow-up,” Alysace sighed, but the smile didn’t leave her face. She was enjoying this dance - a dance of careful words as well as footwork - much more than Yaela. “But fair is fair.”
“What brings someone like you to this gala? You don’t have a plus one either, as far as I can tell. Your dress isn’t much fancier than mine,” though as she said that, Yaela knew her dress was probably made with far nicer and more expensive materials than hers, is that real silver embroidery?, “and not to mention drow aren’t a common sight above ground.”
“Hmmm,” Alysace savored the impatience leaking through Yaela’s set expression as she took her time answering. “I’m here to see what passes for… noble blood these days. True nobility is rich in more than gold and appearance. It’s in the way they hold themselves in public, how they see past costumes and pretense, it runs in their veins.”
“And?” She couldn’t resist mirroring Alysace’s follow-up as her second question.
“I think I’ve started to draw my conclusions. Most of those I’ve met tonight leave much to be desired.” Alysace sighed again, this time a hint of genuine disappointment in the way her shoulders dropped slightly. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d wasted my evening.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I saw you,” she said, the smile widening once more. A flash of white teeth, slightly pointed canines just like Yaela’s - must be an elf thing - and she leaned in closer, letting her voice drop so Yaela could barely hear it over the noise of the gala. “You, my dear, might be just what I was looking for.”
The waltz ended, almost as if on cue. They stopped moving, though Alysace didn’t drop her grip on her. A simple waltz hadn’t been nearly enough to tire her out, but Yaela’s heart was beating fast. She started to open her mouth, to ask why her, what was so interesting about a simple half-elf, what could she possibly tell this woman, when Alysace cut her off first.
“My turn.”
The band picked up a new song - faster, lively, rhythmic. She realized with dawning horror they were starting a tango. Several of the couples stepped off the dance floor, leaving only a handful of people brave enough to take on the challenge. Including the two of them.
“I don’t know this dance,” she blurted, trying to pull away as heat rose in her cheeks.
“Don’t worry, I do.” That glint in Alysace’s eye intensified, entertained with Yaela’s panic. “Just follow my lead. If you know how to fight, you can figure out a dance.”
With that, she was whirled into motion before she could protest again. Despite the increased tempo, she managed to find her stride to keep up with the drow. Their heels clicked and scraped across the tiles, and she found some tiny satisfaction in hoping the scratches would drive Louis crazy when he inevitably inspected the floor after the party was over. If she couldn’t leave a mark on him yet, she could at least leave a mark on her former home. I was here. I’ve always been here.
Alysace’s next question didn’t come until she seemed to sense Yaela finally grasping the more intense dance steps. “Out of everyone here that he’s been trying so desperately to impress and negotiate with, Louis de Lomanteau has barely taken his eyes off of you since you walked into this gala. What, pray tell, could make him look at you with such absolute loathing?”
The question nearly made her miss a step in their dance, her stumble only saved by Alysace practically lifting her off her feet in a seamless twirl. So strong… no - focus! How could this drow know exactly what Louis felt towards her? Was his hatred so blatant? Yes, he was frowning, glaring, but to pick up on the seething disdain he had for her across the ballroom?
With each second that passed as Yaela fished for an answer that was anything but the truth, the knowing glint in Alysace’s eyes grew brighter. It was like her silence had confirmed a different, unasked question instead.
Maybe… someone else deserves to know the truth. About what he’s done. What he wants. Why he has to be stopped.
“I killed his daughter,” she finally said. It’s the truth.
Alysace’s eyes widened ever so slightly - surprise at the bluntness and openness of the statement. Yet, that infuriating smile remained on her face. “Did she have it coming?”
“It was a mercy.” Two. That was two, again. I get to ask two. Think, carefully. We won’t be dancing much longer. “Can I trust you?”
This time, Alysace was the one who didn’t answer immediately. Their dance continued, her still leading, Yaela still being carried along. Both of them watching each other’s faces carefully, staring into each other’s eyes, hands gripping too tight.
“Depends on what you want from me,” Alysace responded, the silver in her eyes glinting in the light.
“You’re here for the same reason I am. For information. To watch, to learn, to gain leverage. You couldn’t care less about meeting nobles, only about what connections you can gain from them.” Yaela met her steely gaze, her voice growing lower, more intense, but still audible over the music because they were so close now, spinning and gliding in their own world. “For allies.”
Alysace’s only reaction was her smile growing wider.
“My second question.” She licked her lips, swallowed, and took a leap of faith. “If I asked you to help me destroy Louis de Lomanteau, would you help?”
Alysace’s grip tightened. The smile vanished. Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, dread gripped Yaela’s heart. Had she overplayed her hand? Did she just make a horrible, irreversible decision?
Suddenly, Alysace pushed her away - but kept one of Yaela’s hands in hers, not letting her fully free. Then, she pulled her back in, twirling her around so her back was pressed against Alysace’s chest, her other arm snaking around Yaela’s waist to lock her in an adamantine embrace.
Cool air kissed Yaela’s neck, soothing the heat and the sweat from her nerves and the dance, as Alysace exhaled. Her lips teased Yaela’s ear as she murmured her reply.
“My dear… I knew you were just what I was looking for,” she whispered. Her hand released Yaela’s waist just enough to trail her fingers along her hip. A shiver ran up Yaela’s spine.
Unable to help herself, she sank into Alysace’s embrace. But her gaze met Louis’s. During their dance, whether intentionally or not, Alysace had led her and spun her so they were positioned mere feet from his dais.
If looks could cast power word kill, Yaela would’ve been dead before she’d even realized where she was standing. His face was as red as her dress - as was the blood dripping from his palm from where the champagne flute had finally shattered in his clenched fist. She should’ve been terrified, knowing what he was capable of in his wrath.
And yet… a smile was growing across her own face. As powerless as she was in Alysace’s arms, he too was powerless to tear her apart. Dimly, she became aware of the applause, the lack of music. Their dance had ended, and they were the only two left on the ballroom floor. Everyone’s attention was fixed on them. Louis could do nothing. They had broken no laws, no rules of etiquette. He couldn’t arrest them or throw them in the dungeons.
“To answer your question,” Alysace’s whisper continued, “very few things would give me greater pleasure than seeing an evil man fall. Very… few… things…” Her hand continued to trail up and down Yaela’s waist, and the smile in her voice told Yaela she knew exactly what she was doing in front of their most esteemed host.
Then, she let Yaela go. The sudden release almost made her stumble, but she caught herself just in time. She spun around to see Alysace give her a deep curtsy, and when Alysace spoke, her voice was loud to carry over the noise of the still-applauding crowd. “I must thank the gracious Lord de Lomanteau for such a wonderful evening, to escape from the world just for a little while and enjoy new company. And I must thank my dance partner. It has been a long time since I met someone who could hold their own in a tango.”
Pompous chuckles filled the gaps in the slowly fading applause. Yaela felt the heat creeping up her neck and cheeks, couldn’t help the social betrayal tighten the corners of her eyes. But she curtsied as well - to Alysace. Louis deserved none of her performative gratitude. “And what an experience it was, dear lady. I thank you as well for the wonderful dance.”
With that, Yaela turned and walked as gracefully and calmly as she could off the dance floor. That had been way too much attention on her for one night, or many nights going forward. Cheeks still flushed, she strode off the dance floor and away from Louis - and Alysace - seeking a breath of cool night air.
She found her refuge on a small balcony only dimly lit by low-burning torches. The party was a muffled din of laughter and clinking dishes behind the heavy curtains that hid most of the doorway. She leaned heavily on the railing, feeling the sweat on her brow and down her back drying quickly in the breeze, raising a handful of goosebumps along her arms. Turning her face to the sky, she stared up at the moon - half-full, partially cloaked by heavy clouds that cast the city beneath her in mottled shadows.
Can I trust you? What kind of question was that? I don’t know anything about this woman - she probably wasn’t even telling the truth about her name! Idiot. You know better than anyone that pretty faces hide ugly secrets. So what if she’s strong… or smart… or beautiful… she shook her head as if that could clear her thoughts. That fuzzy feeling that had overtaken her mind earlier, when Alysace had gazed into her eyes, that must’ve been a spell of some kind. The drow probably decided to test her mental faculties. Maybe that’s why she entertained Yaela’s questions, let her spill her secret. Oh gods, I told her. I told her I killed my mother. Louis’s daughter. What if she rats me out? What if she blackmails me? What if -
“All alone on a dark balcony is the perfect way for accidents to happen at parties such as these,” Alysace’s voice drifted smoothly over her shoulder. Before she could move or even make a sound, cool hands wrapped around her waist once more, pinning her arms at her sides, and a chin rested on her shoulder. “So many nobles lost to alcohol and wobbly footwear when they miscalculate the height of a banister. You should be careful, being so close to the edge.”
The arms tightened, and Yaela was pulled away from the railing, her clenched hands doing nothing to keep her in place as they slipped from the stone. Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest. All those years of training had led to this - years of preparation both physical and mental, to pay attention to the smallest details so no one would ever get the jump on her.
And yet, for the second time tonight, Alysace had caught her completely off guard.
“What - what do you want?” Yaela’s voice came out as a whisper as she kept her eyes fixed on the moon overhead, a dozen ideas racing through her mind on how to escape the grapple, if she could take the fall damage if she leapt from the balcony, if she could get a sneak attack on the drow before escaping into the crowd. Is this where she blackmails me?
“Why, to continue our conversation, of course.” The slight mocking tone had returned to Alysace’s voice, but there wasn’t any malice or overconfidence. It was as if she was enjoying Yaela’s nervousness at her touch more than the secret she was now privy to. “Such… delicious gossip you shared. Revenge always tastes best fresh.”
“I’ve heard it’s a dish best served cold,” she managed, trying to summon some sass in return.
“Mmmm. Hot, cold, it matters not. Only that the recipient has no idea what’s coming. Louis knows you. He knows it’s coming. So it’s a matter of when. Too soon, and you’re not fully prepared. Too late, and he’s had too much time to prepare. You seem like you… mostly know what you’re doing. But, as you said, we’re both here to learn. And I’ve learned many things tonight.” One of Alysace’s hands drifted higher, trailing up her ribs, her chest, her shoulder, resting on her neck and holding her head in place. “I know what revenge tastes like, my dear. I know what loss tastes like. Anger. Hate. Sorrow.”
Her lips brushed Yaela’s neck once more, and this time when she smiled, Yaela felt something sharp scrape her skin just above the collarbone. Pointed teeth, sharp enough to pierce skin.
“I wonder what I’d taste in you,” Alysace murmured.
Yaela was trembling from the cold, she told herself. Not from fear. Not from the way Alysace’s touch and voice sent pins and needles up and down her nerves.
“But that’s too easy,” she continued. “I prefer a challenge. There’s no fun in learning everything at once. Shall we continue trading words and knowledge? Or would you prefer some more time alone with your thoughts and plans?”
It took too long for Yaela to find her voice. Her thoughts were a mess. This drow knew what she was doing. She knew what her touch was doing. She knew Yaela couldn’t break free even if she tried. “What will you do with what I told you?”
Alysace laughed - it was low and husky and Yaela felt her knees grow weak. “Tell me why it was a mercy to kill Louis’s daughter, and I will decide.”
“I - she - Louis tortured her. Experimented on her. Took the one good thing in his life and twisted it inside out. He broke her. He tells himself it was for science, for progress, for the greater good, but it’s all a lie. It was control. Obsession. Insanity. She was trapped in a nightmare for years and I couldn’t make it stop. Until then.” The words spilled out of her. Too much information. Too much passion. Tears welled in her eyes, though they didn’t fall yet. “He might still be human, but he’s a monster. A bloodsucking, soulless leech.”
The silence stretched between them when she forced herself to stop talking. The wind whistled around the balcony, soothing the burning anger that had welled up the longer she’d spoken.
Alysace’s grip slowly eased up, her hand slipping away from Yaela’s throat to trail back down her side. Then, Alysace stepped around her so they were face-to-face again. Something dark glinted in the depths of her silver eyes, a slight red shine that could’ve been Yaela’s own eyes reflected back, except the clouded moonlight wasn’t bright enough to cause that.
The smile on Alysace’s face softened. It wasn’t kindness or sympathy - Yaela found some strange solace in that. She didn’t want to be pitied for her pain. There was some understanding in Alysace’s expression. A connection.
“You say he’s a monster?” She spoke softly still, but the mocking tone had faded as well. “There are many monsters that walk this plane, Yaela. And many who seek to kill them for praise or righteousness or coin. There are few who seek to kill monsters with such passion and vitriol as you. I saw the way you looked at each other. I know the betrayal of kinship. You killed his daughter out of mercy… but you released your mother from her torment.”
Yaela didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She knew if she tried to speak, her voice would break and the tears would fall.
Alysace took a step closer and brushed her hand across Yaela’s cheek, as if to brush away a tear that had escaped. Maybe one had, without her noticing. “I will answer your question now. I came here tonight intending to learn secrets, to leverage blackmail, and toy with nobility because it is fun to watch them flounder when they realize they have no real power. I came here expecting the same shallow narcissism and pretense that I find at every gathering of those who think they’re untouchable. Of all the people I’ve met tonight, you are the only one who is real. I have hunted monsters and men before. I have enjoyed spilling blood for many reasons. But I think I will enjoy watching you spill blood until Louis de Lomanteau is drowning in it. I will drink in the sight of your beautiful revenge. And we will dance in his torment while his cries for mercy make music to our ears.”
Alysace held out her hand. The red in her eyes was brighter, glowing as it slowly swallowed the silver. Her smile had grown once more. It was wicked. Predatory. Canines longer than before. Sharper.
This time, Yaela did not hesitate in taking her hand. This dance she knew all too well. “I think you were just who I was looking for, too.”