Legends of Belariath

Thalea

Thalea was born First Daughter of Lirsya, the Matron of House Sho’Kur. A whisper went through the House at that time: “The Matron’s cruelty will either slay the child, or make her one to be feared indeed.” The latter turned out to be true. Lirsya was (for such a one as her) actually rather kind to her daughter, treating her with the lenience she showed no others. This still meant, however, that Thalea received an upbringing that would make the strictest and harshest of surfacer parents cringe. And it definitely molded Thalea, especially as she grew to a strong body and a cunning mind.

Jilal the High Elf shivered, as cold sweat ran down his naked skin. More than ever he was aware of the collar around his neck, marking him as a slave of House Sho’Kur. His life had been a single nightmare ever since he had been captured during his leader’s foolish treasure hunt in some Underdark ruins. The Drow had abused him in every way possible that wouldn’t leave him useless... yet he was not afraid of anyone as much as of the one who had just stripped him of his slave rags and chained him to a pillar. Even the Matron inspired only moderated fear by now, for she was distant, not likely to pay attention to a lowly cleaning slave. But her daughter...

Everyone who did not have some rank, even the Drow servants, even the lower-placed male members of the House, did everything they could to avoid angering Thalea. And Jilal knew why. He kept his eyes shut, wishing he did not feel the warmth of Thalea’s proximity...which was all the more intense because the Drow woman was quite naked. From the brief glimpse he had caught (oh how he wished he hadn’t!) Jilal knew her to be very beautiful. Her body was tall and athletic, her midnight skin was smooth and flawless, her curves not too full and perfectly rounded. Her pubes were white as the hair falling above her shoulders.

Jilal’s shivering increased as he felt Thalea’s gaze sweep his body. Oh how he knew that gaze. Those red, bright eyes, burning with cunning, cruelty, pride... and a dangerous, deadly sensuality. He let out a whimper of fear as her fingers slowly explored his chest...trailing across various scars and welts...

“Mm yes... I remember that one” came her cold whisper. “You took far too long to clean my chambers... my whip did speed you up, did it not? And that one... too lazy to clean under the bed, right? But surely that is less unpleasant than my... needlework? Oh and that one... a foul mood I was in, that was very bad timing of you. A lash for every speck of dust I could find, was it not?”

Thalea grinned evilly, her gaze briefly flying over the items she had laid aside... whips, paddles, clamps, needles, and various torture devices of utmost cruelty. Her eyes blazed even hotter as she glanced back to the slave... her hand sliding down to his manhood... and squeezing, the nails digging into his sensitive skin.

“You have been slacking off very often lately, boy,” she said while savoring his whimper of pain. “And today... you walk in on me just as I finish showering... when you heard very well that the water was running. I’ve been talking to Mother about you, and she agreed you need some attitude adjustment. And since our slavekeepers do not seem up to the task, she allowed me to keep you for a week, so I can show you what real discipline is...”

Jilal’s scream of terror was nothing compared to the howls of agony that filled House Sho’Kur for the next seven days.

Torture was not the only thing Thalea was taught of course, though it was definitely her greatest passion. She was well trained in magic and weapon-wielding, though she preferred the latter. And she participated in the worship of Lloth with a fervor unusual even among Drow, and which she clearly inherited from her mother.

Lirsya had another daughter, named Seldra. She was as proud and arrogant as only Drow can be, and everyone was very surprised that she and Thalea did not come into conflict. In fact, there was a strange bond between the two sisters, a closeness and fondness unusual for the Underdark.

Thalea smiled, standing before Lloth’s altar, upon which she had just sacrificed a human prisoner. She breathed in the smell of his Lloth, silently offering his souls to the Spider Queen. Then she opened her eyes, and her smile grew a little wider as she looked first to the other dead human lying next to the first, and then to Seldra who had slit his throat. Their eyes locked. There was no more need for further words. Still holding their bloodied knives, the two sisters dipped their free hands into the mingling blood. Then, after whispering arcane words under their breath, they clasped hands, speaking the same words in such a synchronized way that it might have been only one voice.

“Mother Lloth, Queen of Spiders, Mistress of all Drow, hear our prayer. These surfacers we slew for You, this blood we offer to You, Dark Mother, and ask for your blessing. By this blood and by Your name, we swear that we shall ever stand by each other’s side. Thalea and Seldra shall be one, none betray the other, constantly we will be at the other’s defense. So do we swear, and so shall it be, till one of us breaks the oath, and thus brings Your wrath and chastisement upon herself.”

The oath remained secret, but Thalea and Seldra kept true to what they had sworn, ever staying true to the other. But Thalea did not see the hidden malice and jealousy growing in Seldra’s eyes. The younger daughter wished to be heir to the Matron herself, yet knew that she could not usurp that right be slaying Thalea, since that would invoke her mother’s wrath. And against Lirsya, Seldra was yet powerless. But she had a plan.

It was not till some time later that Thalea learned it was through Seldra’s plotting she was ‘temporarily’ assigned to command the garrison of a rather small outpost of House Sho’Kur, whose main function was to keep the scavengers of the Underdark at bay. What none but Seldra knew was that not far away was a hidden passage to the surface.

On the very day that Thalea arrived, a large party of warriors from the surface poured through that passage and attacked the outpost. But they were not surfacers. They were dobluth Drow, all part of a secret group called the Darkfist. Their base was a complex of caves on the surface, reminiscent of the Underdark. All members of the Darkfist were outcast males who had sworn to take their revenge on those who had exiled them. How Seldra knew of them or of the plans to attack the outpost remains a mystery, yet it was clear she expected them to slaughter the garrison, including Thalea. That is not quite was happened. The males were killed, overwhelmed in numbers, but most females, including Thalea, were captured. Thalea was brought to the Darkfist’s cavernous fortress, and enslaved, made the sexual toy of males—an unbearable thought for her. Yet she endured the humiliation and abuse through which she was put, even learned to rebel as little as possible. Using all her patience and cunning, she pretended to be broken into a meek slave, and bided her time, waiting for an opportunity... and the opportunity came.

Thalea breathed hard as she lay on the filthy bed, trying to ignore the stench of the male who had just raped her. He was still groping at her, grinning stupidly.

“Mm that was very good, little Thalea,” he whispered lewdly. “Such a good slut you are. You know, you females keep on pretending that you’re superior...but really you just ache to be slaves, to be used hard, hmm?”

Thalea did everything she could not to tense. But something in her mind went click. This was it. She would take no more.

Putting on her best submissive smile, she said in a submissive voice “Yes Master, this slave loves being used for your pleasure. Master... may this slut please kiss you to thank you for using her body?”

The male grinned and nod, and Thalea drew nearer to him, sliding her arms around his neck—suddenly her hands moved fast, there was an unpleasant noise... and the male fell back, his eyes glazed, his neck broken. Quickly, Thalea searched his discarded clothes until she laid her hands on a key. With an evil grin, she found it fit the lock of her collar. As she threw the band of leather down, all the strength in her which she had repressed during her enslavement surfaced again... Within a few minutes, she was dressed in the male’s armor and held his whip in her hand. She took a few deep breaths... and with a silent prayer to Lloth, she ran out of the room, and towards the direction where she deemed the exit to be.

For some reason, Thalea encountered only a few guards during her escape, and none were a match for her skill and anger. Fortunately it was night as she finally escaped the fortress; the sun would not bother her yet. Thalea knew that someone had betrayed her, and probably seen to it to have her cast from her House. The Underdark was closed to her for now. And so she set off and eventually found the Lonely Inn. Thalea still despised male, non-Drow, and indeed all but herself, yet she was cunning enough to disguise it with at least a thin veil of indifference. She was ready to do anything to adapt, knowing that in several years, she would be powerful enough to make the Darkfist suffer... as well as the one who had betrayed her.

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