A while ago I had this idea that after the catastrophe in Arporious Loucef has some serious second thoughts and tries to find Lonja. He approaches Took to find out what has become of her. Out of cruelty Took tells Loucef that he did horrible things to her and then discarded her because he thinks Loucef deserves to feel some serious guilt for how awful he is (nevermind that Took is just as awful for being willing to buy a slave XP ), concluding with Loucef’s own mantra, “it’s just business.” With that, he sends Loucef away and doesn’t tell Lonja about it. D&D girl (I can’t remember her name! D: I’m a terrible friend DX ) hears from Loucef or through the grapevine or something that Took had taken her sister and in a rage, D&D girl decides to try and avenge Lonja. She manages to get into Took’s home in the middle of the night. He’s sent Lonja to bed, but he’s still up working when the thief comes looking for him. She takes him by surprise but she’s not match for his sorcery. He assumes she’s an assassin and tries to force her to tell him who sent her. Lonja is awakened by the commotion and wakes up to find Took trying to drag information out of her long-lost sister. They’re both startled to see each other and Lonja convinces Took to release his old on her and there’s an emotional reunion with a few dirty looks at Took until everything is explained. XD
Loucef swallowed hard as he lifted his eyes to the grand estate before him. The weather was bitterly cold and grey and he shook his head sharply, willing himself to be warm, though no warmth filled him. He felt empty, drained of strength, a dead man somehow still standing. In all of his life he had never had to do anything as grave as he did now. Despite all the exciting, terrifying, harrowing experiences being a slave trader had brought him, none had prepared him for this. As he stood outside the manor of the King of Wharndgard Loucef retraced how he had been led to this time, this place: The doorstep of one of the smartest, richest, most powerful men in all the nearby regions to beg for his merchandise back; to beg for his sister’s life.
It had been a year ago, almost to the day, that the Invaders had attacked Apriorious. Loucef had been at the height of his success as a slave trafficker, relying on regular clients all of whom held some position of power in the community. He was untouchable by the law and favored by all of his clients. Loucef became selective of his captives, knowing which ones would be the most appealing to his employers. Dezamond, the duchess, had required his services the most faithfully of all, the two of them becoming more than passing acquaintances. Over the years Loucef had become charmed by her shamelessness, her theatrics, her ridiculous tastes and antics clearly designed to compensate for something. Loucef recognized those traits; the overly broad smile, the tight grin, the gaze that held a little too long and firm. He had the same ones, all of them to keep his internal turmoil from ripping out of the seams. Loucef wasn’t fooled by Dezamond, nor was she by him. They knew each hid deeply buried self hatred, loneliness, and desperation. Still, Loucef somehow found purpose in his work, if it meant giving Dezamond a plaything with which to soothe her pain. She, in turn, found refuge in his role as her confidant, knowing he would never tell a soul what she hired him to do. Loucef held no judgement against her, the same way she held no prejudice against him for his line of business. There was a kinship between them, as well as a natural chemistry.
Thus, on the grim night when the Invaders had seized the Duke’s manor, Dezamond fled to the only soul she had ever trusted more than her own. She wept at the sorry state of her existence that the only man with whom she felt safe or valued was her slaver, her supplier of young men who did little to truly abate her lust and console her heart. The duchess had never steered a carriage in her life and amazed even herself as she arrived at his residence in one piece. Dezamond flung herself against the iron gate at the entrance, her sobs choking her as she called for him.
“LOUCEF! LOUCEF! Please, you have to help me, PLEASE! Someone has attacked the manor, everything is gone! They’ve burned everything! Let me in, PLEASE!!!!” Strayat, Loucef’s business partner and primarily the muscles of the duo, recognized the duchess and came hurrying out to unlock the gate. Loucef had only just woken up and was about to go out on his nightly hunt when he heard Dezamond’s shrieks. He caught her as she threw herself into his arms, her petite head crashing against his ribs. She held him tightly and trembled, almost to the point Loucef had trouble knowing if she were crying or laughing. Dezamond finally gazed up at him with tear stained cheeks, proceeding to tell him everything that had happened when the Invaders attacked. Her brother, the Duke, had been captured and was to be publicly executed, as well as all the other official leaders found to be participating in ‘corruption.’ It was a pair, a man and a woman, who were leading the army. They seemed intent on earning the loyalty of the masses, taking whatever drastic measures necessary, including arson and murder. Their soldiers were impervious to weaponry, being not men but some sort of alchemic monstrosity made of sand and metal. No blade could chip them, no weight could crush them yet they moved with agility and skill. Dezamond had somehow managed to escape, having been aided by Lanthriel, the servant of the sorcerer Took, another of Loucef’s clients. Knowing it was only a matter of time before the Invaders came after Dezamond, as well as Loucef and Strayat for their role in the ‘corruption’ of Apriorious, the three hastily retreated to the border of Wharndgard, where they assumed new identities and occupations. Making use of Loucef’s hunting abilities and Strayat’s passable cooking skills they opened a tavern. Dezamond was unrecognizable without her makeup and lace and bows she had hid behind as the Duchess. She worked as a waitress while Loucef manned the bar. It was hardly the life any of them had thought they would be leading, but it was soothing, somehow. The daily tasks and menial labor became therapeutic, and the three of them grew fond of each other’s company. On a particular night no patrons had come in, Loucef and Dezamond found themselves alone, memories of the past unavoidable. Loucef confided in Dezamond that he had never seen her as a monster, as the ‘man eater’ she had garnered a reputation for being. He confessed that he had viewed his services as helping her, and that he’d always cared for her. Dezamond had never had a sincere word spoken to her by a man and was stunned by his words. Loucef immediately become the only man she had ever truly desired, the only man she had ever really wanted because he had said it first: he cared for her, he always had. Since then the two of them had privately married, and vehemently pursued a life of blatant, if not boring, law abiding character.
And so it was that Loucef found himself here at the door of Took A’Vahn, the man to whom Loucef had sold his own little sister. He came seeking two things: forgiveness and Lonja. Just hoping for one was more than any man had a right to ask for, but he had to try. With strength he did not feel he rapped at the door, his long, weathered fingers icy cold.
“‘Ello! Can Oi ‘elp ‘ou?” a small boy with feline features asked, cracking open the door. Loucef donned his ever bright, always charming smile as he addressed the boy, but found the phoniness no longer suited him. He glanced at his feet a moment, the facade falling away. His mouth a grim line, his eyes hungry and hollow he said “Yes. I’m here to speak to Took A’Vahn,” His voice lowered “If he’ll see me.”
“and who might ‘ou be?” the boy asked.
“Loucef. Loucef Debris.”
“This is getting in the way,” he said to her, trying to use his standard pushy, know-it-all voice.
Took pressed the tip of his finger against Lonja’s collar, murmuring the incantation that would spring the lock. It fell away easily, and he was glad to see that her delicate skin had not chafed under the collar. The magic collar, which he’d placed on her when he had purchased her from her brother, had been the fail safe to prevent her from escaping, especially as her command of her own magic grew. But, never once had she so much as hinted at a desire to be free, and the collar now struck him as unnecessary and cruel.
Still, his insides felt cold and uneasy as her removed the collar, and his face was impassive as he avoided looking into her eyes. If she did run away now, there was a good likelihood that he’d never find her. He had taught her all he knew about Faerie magic, and her command of invisibility and illusion was growing by the day. She didn’t need him any more. He, on the other hand, had come to depend on having her around to fetch his books, bring his meals, relay messages, hand him supplies, ask thought-provoking questions, and just be there. While he knew it was well within his power to compel her to stay, it didn’t feel right any more…if it ever had in the first place.
He met her eyes, and the usual arrogance dropped out of his face. The solemn significance of the moment suddenly felt forcibly apparent. If you choose to leave, I won’t stop you.
But…
A quiet urge to touch her bubbled up in Took’s mind. But, unpracticed as he was at such things, he didn’t know how. In his culture, touch was reserved for family members or subordinates, and she wasn’t quite either now. He’d touched her back before to monitor her breathing while she practiced, and he’d taken her arm on occasion. But he wanted this to be different, without really thinking coherently about it at all. Before he’d really wrapped his mind around his urge, his eyes fell back to her elegant, unburdened neck, and he silently and very lightly trailed his fingertips along the ridge of her clavicle.
After this quiet moment, he abruptly returned to his senses and stalked away in a fluster, leaving Lonja to ponder the peculiar gesture and, perhaps, see it for what it was: a vulnerable act of affection, from one who had spent his whole life fighting to be neither.
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“Loucef Debris,” Took spoke the name with disdain, as if Loucef ought to be ashamed to have it attached to his person. “You have a lot of gall to approach me in my own home.”
He never took guests in his own wing, so upon news of Loucef’s visit, he’d instructed Phineas to bring the man to one of the parlors off the main hall. It was one of the most impressive of his father’s meeting rooms, but more importantly, it was also the most secretive. The doors, walls and windows had been designed such that no noise would escape, and Took was especially keen that whatever Loucef wanted to discuss was not heard.
He sat on one of the parlor couches, one arm draped along the the back and his feet crossed and propped up on a coffee table. It was not a very polite posture for receiving guests, but it communicated clearly which of the two men was the master of the situation. Loucef would have never seen him quite like this before.
Lonja watched with wonder as Took removed the collar, her eyes wide. Truthfully the collar had become second nature to her; something she no longer even noticed. Perhaps once she may have resented it, but if she had she couldn’t remember. Lately it had served only as a faithful reminder that there was someone who wanted her, and a place where she belonged. His eyes met hers, his expression deep but unreadable. If Lonja had been able to hear Took’s thoughts she would have quickly assured him how necessary to her he was as well. As Took’s apprentice Lonja’s life had taken on significance unlike anything she had ever had experienced. She felt useful here, important, productive and helpful. No longer was she the the whiny, needy, weepy, lonely wisp of a young woman she had been. No longer did people talk about her in front of her, insulting her as though she weren’t present. No longer did she feel like a burden and a disgrace. When Lonja came to live with Took she felt as though she had finally come alive for the first time. To be with him was to be herself; to live here was to be home.
In a way, Lonja was almost sorry to see the collar go; it had been her tangible proof of her value to Took. She opened her mouth to thank him, but abruptly closed it again as he reached out and fingered the place where the collar had rested. Unused to the feeling she almost tensed, but resisted the urge, appreciating the gesture instead. It was… sweet. A hint of a smile crossed her face before he turned away, her eyes twinkling as she watched him go. “He trusts me.” Pride welled up within her as she relished in her victory. Lonja worked tirelessly to prove herself to him, to earn his attention and approval, but his trust had been something she had never dared expect; she knew how little and how rarely he trusted anyone. Only allowing herself a moment to wistfully gloat she put herself about the days tasks, but every now and again she would touch the place his fingers had brushed, a tiny smile on her lips. “He trusts me!”
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“Call it what you like, though I’d say it’s more guilt than gall,” Loucef muttered, an embarrassed, humorless laugh escaping him. He licked his lips, pursing them, trying to figure out how to begin. The numerous times he’d rehearsed this exact moment behooved him none now that he found himself here. He studied Took, the careless aura of the sorcerer was markedly different from the eager man Loucef had previously known who so readily made a deal with him to purchase Lonja.
“Mister A’Vahn, the last time I saw you I’d hoped to never need to again. No doubt you felt the same way about me. At the time I saw you as a savior in a way; I had to get rid of my treacherous little sister, and here you were, not only willing to take her off my hands but pay me a significant sum at the same time. It had to be fate, I told myself.” For a moment, Loucef’s old grin returned: his self satisfied smirk at having made another successful “placement of merchandise.” But it soon faded, the anguish in his eyes returning. He sank into a nearby overstuffed armchair, defeated. “But I know now it was a mistake. I’ve made hundreds, no, thousands of mistakes in my life, but I can assure you there is none I regret more than having agreed to take your money for the freedom of my sister. I… I can’t ask you to sell her back to me; I don’t have the money.” His pride completely obliterated, Loucef nearly sobbed. He clenched his fists, willing himself to press on, no matter how humiliated he was. “Still, I was hoping I could at least see Lonja? Ask her to forgive me? I want her to know that I knew she never meant me any harm. That I knew she just wanted me to live a better life, and care for others, or a least, I see it now. I want her to know that I’m going to do everything I can to get her back home and I just want her to understand that I am so sorry.” Loucef lifted his eyes from the spot on the handwoven rug at which he had been staring to Took’s face. “I don’t expect you to understand, or even care about me. But for Lonja’s sake, please Mister A’Vahn, let me see her,” he pleaded, his voice a low rasp.
