Poem 6
Author: Alsike
Fandom: LotS
Rating: Rish?
Pairing: Berdine/Raina
Disclaimer: Not mine, and as always the poems belong to Catullus.
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Mord’Sith politics start here.
“That little slut from the mountains came out of your room this morning.” Hally’s voice was sharp, and Cara looked up, curious and suspicious. Berdine did everything she could not to react. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“She was helping me with my work.”
Hally snorted. “Helping you, like the way you help her by hanging around the training grounds whenever she’s teaching and looking like an abused puppy. She does her work, but she’s worthless at yours. You aren’t doing her any favors by pretending she’s ‘helping.’ Just admit you’re fucking her and be done with it. Take her as your pet, beat the shit out of her in public, and then the rumors will stop.”
“Shut up!” Berdine hissed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know people are saying that you’re in love with her, that you’re spending so much time with your legs spread in the library, that you’re going to undermine the Lord Rahl with not doing your work.”
“People are saying that’s she’s a traitor and she’s enchanted you,” added Cara, quietly. “People are saying that they ought to kill her.”
“She’s illiterate. She’s not helping you. And you’re only going to get her killed if you keep saying she is. Is that what you want? Because if it is, fine, but you’ve got to pay more attention.”
Berdine looked into Hally’s eyes. “You don’t know. She cut her name into my back last night.”
“She…” Hally stared, confused. “What does that-”
But Cara’s eyes were wide and horrified. “What have you done, Berdine?”
Berdine shut her lips. It wasn’t any of their business. And she had to go.
* * *
She caught up too late. The posse of Mord’Sith had caught Raina in the dim hallway, but they hadn’t won. Three of them were sprawled on the floor, one looked dead, and Raina had the fourth pressed against the wall, hand on her throat, almost like a confessor, except with her fingers flexed tight, choking the breath out of her. Berdine stepped back into the shadows. They didn’t need to know she was there.
But even the quietest step was audible to someone burning with adrenaline. Raina’s fingers clenched, and her opponent’s eyes rolled back in her head before she slumped to the floor. Raina turned. Her face was bloody, her eyes on fire.
“You’re beautiful.”
Raina looked at her, looked, her eyes like a predator’s eyes, but one that knew it was trapped and could not fight. Then she scowled, her face darkening. She strode forward. A knuckle strike to the cheek and Berdine’s head whipped around. Then she caught her collar, dragging her down. Berdine dropped to her knees and tilted her head up. Raina claimed her lips.
“Come!” She jerked her forward, pulled her towards Berdine’s own room. She pushed her down on her bed, climbing on top of her, hovering. “You want this, don’t you?”
Of course. Of course. Berdine nodded.
Raina stroked her cheek with her palm. It left a streak of blood, someone else’s blood. Berdine couldn’t help her overactive mind from analyzing this. There was nothing like the power of taking someone’s life, nothing that could compare. It brought pleasure, sometimes to the point of madness, and it brought lust. Perhaps it was the one thing that made Berdine a ‘normal’ Mord’Sith, that she could not help her own response in the face of blood-pleasure. And it had always been that potential for power in Raina that had acted as a magnetic sort of lure.
Berdine cupped the hand, drawing it over the mouth and licking the blood from it like a cat. Raina’s eyes widened, and then she smiled, dipping down to kiss the remaining streaks from her lips.
{C} {C}
Nails and teeth had marked and bled her body, and Berdine lay lazily in the sheets, enjoying the lingering ache. Raina, beside her, leaned on her elbow, eyes scanning across her handiwork, stopping occasionally to contemplate a crescent cut, or a half-hard nipple. She looked pensive and serious, and Berdine thought it probably wasn’t regret, but was slightly anxious either way.
“I know there’s something wrong with me. I’ve always known.” Raina’s words were soft, and she looked away, as if Berdine’s long form was harsh evidence of the fact. Maybe it was. “I’ve always tried to be a true Mord’Sith, to be the best and strongest that I could, even with my weaknesses. I didn’t know that this was a weakness of mine, but perhaps I always feared it.”
Berdine moved towards her, but she wouldn’t let her touch.
“I have always fought, since I was just taken, to be better than I was. I wanted to be broken, I desired it. I wanted my mistress to love me. I wanted someone to love me. Save that, I wanted someone to respect me, and that desire left me vulnerable.”
Berdine wanted to repeat her refrain, that there was no one more worthy of respect than she was, but she knew a story when she heard one, and Raina’s voice had fallen into that soft cadence that meant a tale had been worried over enough times that its emotional impact to the speaker had been muted and blunted. It didn’t mean it would be muted for the listener.
“My Mistress found the best way of breaking me after the torture was over. She revealed my weaknesses to the other Mord’Sith. Everyone in my temple, everyone who had even spoken to someone from my temple, everyone but you knew I couldn’t read.” Her eyes flashed dark and sort of amused at Berdine for being so far above the vicious little ranking struggles that she hadn’t even bothered to learn the gossip. “There were other things too. Everyone knew that I begged for her to fuck me. Of course I had. She had broken me, and I would have done anything to know I pleased her. I was tight and eager, that I was unnatural since I had no desire for men.” Berdine barely repressed a snort of annoyance. Unnatural, honestly? In a temple full of only women whose society was women, who cared as little for men as they did for cattle, it was unnatural to have no desire for men?
“I had to walk around every day and hear them laugh at me and mock me. All I had wanted was their respect, and it was exactly that which my mistress denied me. I went to her, I screamed and begged and raged at her for doing this to me, and she laughed. She reached out and caught me, and pulled me in to kiss me… to own me. And I jerked away from her, I tried to beat her off, and she just caught my wrists and pinned me down and tied me. She had one of her soldier pets take me, and then another, and then two at once. Then she put her agiel in me and made me taste it. She said, ‘I needed you to hate me. I could never break you unless you hate me.’ Then she hurt me until I broke. I was a whimpering mess. The agiel burns lasted months. All my weaknesses were laid bare, and I could not recover from them. So she curled her arms around me and told me that she loved me. I had never hated her more, and I had never felt more powerful. I hated her, so I loved her more. How else could I retain my own strength?”
“I’ll kill her.”
Raina stared at her, sitting up, sheets falling from her dusky shoulders. “For my honor? Don’t you even think it. I learned what breaking could be that day. I learned that my students had to hate me. I would never let up, never show weakness, never give them rest or respite, until they burned with anger, and then I would destroy them, and they would be better for it. But I would never break them with words. Because she broke me before she hurt me, before she gave me to her boys. She broke me with shame, and with mocking laughter. I never wanted to be weak enough to suffer that again.” She shook her head. “You make me weak. You open me up to injury.”
“Words have no power.”
Raina barked out an incredulous laugh. “You, you, tell me this? You who has built her life on words, you who have been corrupted by them, you who say that with these words you can see things that you have never experienced, learn truths you could never discover, cross distances to worlds that do not even exist? You’re telling me that words have no power?”
Berdine caught her shoulders, hauling her in, pushing her down and moving over her. She pressed a brief kiss on the skin by her ear, and then bit the rim. “I’m telling you that words are manipulable, that your words are just as powerful as anyone else’s. And you’re right, I have made my living by words.” She smiled. “Aren’t you lucky that I’m on your side?”
Raina stared up at her. “I don’t trust you.”
Berdine smiled wickedly, flashing her teeth. “That’s because you’re smart.”
Flavius, about your darling, to Catullus
unless she were clumsy and unrefined
you would want to speak, nor would you be able to shut up
In truth, I don’t know what sort of feverish
slut you have chosen. You are ashamed to admit it.
But your silence is in vain,
your bed cries out, garlanded and stinking of Syrian oil,
that you don’t lie down for lonely nights,
and your pillow is equally worn out by overuse,
and your couch, trembling and shaking,
creaks and moves about.
Stand firm there! No reason to be silent.
Why? You wouldn’t show off your fucked-out ass so much,
if you weren’t doing something stupid.
Hence, whatever you have, good and bad,
tell it to us. I want to call you and your love
to the sky in my witty verse.
Part 12
Fandom: LotS
Rating: Rish?
Pairing: Berdine/Raina
Disclaimer: Not mine, and as always the poems belong to Catullus.
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Mord’Sith politics start here.
“That little slut from the mountains came out of your room this morning.” Hally’s voice was sharp, and Cara looked up, curious and suspicious. Berdine did everything she could not to react. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“She was helping me with my work.”
Hally snorted. “Helping you, like the way you help her by hanging around the training grounds whenever she’s teaching and looking like an abused puppy. She does her work, but she’s worthless at yours. You aren’t doing her any favors by pretending she’s ‘helping.’ Just admit you’re fucking her and be done with it. Take her as your pet, beat the shit out of her in public, and then the rumors will stop.”
“Shut up!” Berdine hissed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know people are saying that you’re in love with her, that you’re spending so much time with your legs spread in the library, that you’re going to undermine the Lord Rahl with not doing your work.”
“People are saying that’s she’s a traitor and she’s enchanted you,” added Cara, quietly. “People are saying that they ought to kill her.”
“She’s illiterate. She’s not helping you. And you’re only going to get her killed if you keep saying she is. Is that what you want? Because if it is, fine, but you’ve got to pay more attention.”
Berdine looked into Hally’s eyes. “You don’t know. She cut her name into my back last night.”
“She…” Hally stared, confused. “What does that-”
But Cara’s eyes were wide and horrified. “What have you done, Berdine?”
Berdine shut her lips. It wasn’t any of their business. And she had to go.
* * *
She caught up too late. The posse of Mord’Sith had caught Raina in the dim hallway, but they hadn’t won. Three of them were sprawled on the floor, one looked dead, and Raina had the fourth pressed against the wall, hand on her throat, almost like a confessor, except with her fingers flexed tight, choking the breath out of her. Berdine stepped back into the shadows. They didn’t need to know she was there.
But even the quietest step was audible to someone burning with adrenaline. Raina’s fingers clenched, and her opponent’s eyes rolled back in her head before she slumped to the floor. Raina turned. Her face was bloody, her eyes on fire.
“You’re beautiful.”
Raina looked at her, looked, her eyes like a predator’s eyes, but one that knew it was trapped and could not fight. Then she scowled, her face darkening. She strode forward. A knuckle strike to the cheek and Berdine’s head whipped around. Then she caught her collar, dragging her down. Berdine dropped to her knees and tilted her head up. Raina claimed her lips.
“Come!” She jerked her forward, pulled her towards Berdine’s own room. She pushed her down on her bed, climbing on top of her, hovering. “You want this, don’t you?”
Of course. Of course. Berdine nodded.
Raina stroked her cheek with her palm. It left a streak of blood, someone else’s blood. Berdine couldn’t help her overactive mind from analyzing this. There was nothing like the power of taking someone’s life, nothing that could compare. It brought pleasure, sometimes to the point of madness, and it brought lust. Perhaps it was the one thing that made Berdine a ‘normal’ Mord’Sith, that she could not help her own response in the face of blood-pleasure. And it had always been that potential for power in Raina that had acted as a magnetic sort of lure.
Berdine cupped the hand, drawing it over the mouth and licking the blood from it like a cat. Raina’s eyes widened, and then she smiled, dipping down to kiss the remaining streaks from her lips.
{C} {C}
Nails and teeth had marked and bled her body, and Berdine lay lazily in the sheets, enjoying the lingering ache. Raina, beside her, leaned on her elbow, eyes scanning across her handiwork, stopping occasionally to contemplate a crescent cut, or a half-hard nipple. She looked pensive and serious, and Berdine thought it probably wasn’t regret, but was slightly anxious either way.
“I know there’s something wrong with me. I’ve always known.” Raina’s words were soft, and she looked away, as if Berdine’s long form was harsh evidence of the fact. Maybe it was. “I’ve always tried to be a true Mord’Sith, to be the best and strongest that I could, even with my weaknesses. I didn’t know that this was a weakness of mine, but perhaps I always feared it.”
Berdine moved towards her, but she wouldn’t let her touch.
“I have always fought, since I was just taken, to be better than I was. I wanted to be broken, I desired it. I wanted my mistress to love me. I wanted someone to love me. Save that, I wanted someone to respect me, and that desire left me vulnerable.”
Berdine wanted to repeat her refrain, that there was no one more worthy of respect than she was, but she knew a story when she heard one, and Raina’s voice had fallen into that soft cadence that meant a tale had been worried over enough times that its emotional impact to the speaker had been muted and blunted. It didn’t mean it would be muted for the listener.
“My Mistress found the best way of breaking me after the torture was over. She revealed my weaknesses to the other Mord’Sith. Everyone in my temple, everyone who had even spoken to someone from my temple, everyone but you knew I couldn’t read.” Her eyes flashed dark and sort of amused at Berdine for being so far above the vicious little ranking struggles that she hadn’t even bothered to learn the gossip. “There were other things too. Everyone knew that I begged for her to fuck me. Of course I had. She had broken me, and I would have done anything to know I pleased her. I was tight and eager, that I was unnatural since I had no desire for men.” Berdine barely repressed a snort of annoyance. Unnatural, honestly? In a temple full of only women whose society was women, who cared as little for men as they did for cattle, it was unnatural to have no desire for men?
“I had to walk around every day and hear them laugh at me and mock me. All I had wanted was their respect, and it was exactly that which my mistress denied me. I went to her, I screamed and begged and raged at her for doing this to me, and she laughed. She reached out and caught me, and pulled me in to kiss me… to own me. And I jerked away from her, I tried to beat her off, and she just caught my wrists and pinned me down and tied me. She had one of her soldier pets take me, and then another, and then two at once. Then she put her agiel in me and made me taste it. She said, ‘I needed you to hate me. I could never break you unless you hate me.’ Then she hurt me until I broke. I was a whimpering mess. The agiel burns lasted months. All my weaknesses were laid bare, and I could not recover from them. So she curled her arms around me and told me that she loved me. I had never hated her more, and I had never felt more powerful. I hated her, so I loved her more. How else could I retain my own strength?”
“I’ll kill her.”
Raina stared at her, sitting up, sheets falling from her dusky shoulders. “For my honor? Don’t you even think it. I learned what breaking could be that day. I learned that my students had to hate me. I would never let up, never show weakness, never give them rest or respite, until they burned with anger, and then I would destroy them, and they would be better for it. But I would never break them with words. Because she broke me before she hurt me, before she gave me to her boys. She broke me with shame, and with mocking laughter. I never wanted to be weak enough to suffer that again.” She shook her head. “You make me weak. You open me up to injury.”
“Words have no power.”
Raina barked out an incredulous laugh. “You, you, tell me this? You who has built her life on words, you who have been corrupted by them, you who say that with these words you can see things that you have never experienced, learn truths you could never discover, cross distances to worlds that do not even exist? You’re telling me that words have no power?”
Berdine caught her shoulders, hauling her in, pushing her down and moving over her. She pressed a brief kiss on the skin by her ear, and then bit the rim. “I’m telling you that words are manipulable, that your words are just as powerful as anyone else’s. And you’re right, I have made my living by words.” She smiled. “Aren’t you lucky that I’m on your side?”
Raina stared up at her. “I don’t trust you.”
Berdine smiled wickedly, flashing her teeth. “That’s because you’re smart.”
Flavius, about your darling, to Catullus
unless she were clumsy and unrefined
you would want to speak, nor would you be able to shut up
In truth, I don’t know what sort of feverish
slut you have chosen. You are ashamed to admit it.
But your silence is in vain,
your bed cries out, garlanded and stinking of Syrian oil,
that you don’t lie down for lonely nights,
and your pillow is equally worn out by overuse,
and your couch, trembling and shaking,
creaks and moves about.
Stand firm there! No reason to be silent.
Why? You wouldn’t show off your fucked-out ass so much,
if you weren’t doing something stupid.
Hence, whatever you have, good and bad,
tell it to us. I want to call you and your love
to the sky in my witty verse.
Part 12