Dresden Files: "The Lady or the Tiger"
Title: The Lady or the Tiger
Fandom: Dresden Files
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for Changes, some dark content
Pairing: pre-Marcone/Dresden
A/N: Written for
dresden_kink
Summary: Dresden dangles between the Lady and the Tiger.
I hurt.
I really, really hurt.
And my nose itched.
That’s the worst thing about your hands being tied: your nose will inevitably itch. It’s a thing. Unfortunately, I have plenty of experience with this.
I focused on the itch, the desperate urge to scratch my nose. It distracted me from the shackles on my wrists and ankles and the blindfold over my eyes.
The itch was easier.
They were talking above me; I could hear the edge of anticipation in their voices. They talked too low for me to make out the words. I grunted at them, anyway. It was the most I could do with the gag in my mouth.
Surprisingly, the gag is new. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me that most of the bad guys do, in fact, appreciate my sense of humor.
Obviously, these two had no sense of humor. Bastards.
I wrinkled my nose and focused on the itch. My arms ached from being stretched out over my head. I couldn’t help but pull lightly at the shackles, even knowing it would do no good. They weren’t as nasty as the thorned shackles, but they were still tough. I tried using magic as soon as I had woken up earlier and found them around my wrists. I could feel the feedback loop, but that was all.
If the situation was more dire, I would consider the whole dislocating-my-thumb thing again, but the situation wasn’t to that point. Again, shiny new situation. This time, I liked the newness. I can evolve, adapt to new things, etc. etc. etc. As long as they don’t involve cutting me off from my morning coffee, I’m always adaptable.
Of course, none of this scratched my nose.
I wrinkled my nose again and let my itch distract me from the third voice. It was as soft as the other two but infinitely closer. It held an edge, too, icy cold and deadly sharp.
Queen Mab was calling her Knight.
I let the pain of my arms and my wrists flood my mind for a moment. My legs were pulled tightly, too, not allowing me an inch to kick at any idiot stupid enough to get close. Long legs could be annoying at times, but they were great for distance kicks. I pulled at my legs, anyway, just to test my mobility again. All I got for my noble effort was a leg cramp.
Yeah. Being tied up with a leg cramp is worse than having an itchy nose.
Who would have thought?
The other two voices silenced immediately, but I ignored them. Mab’s voice rose in my mind, like a wind rising in the middle of winter. I flinched and all I did was pull at my restraints.
She was calling, my Queen was calling, and I was tied to a table like a frog about to be dissected.
Ew, bad thought, definitely a bad thought.
She called again, anger sharp and cold in her voice, and I yanked at my wrists. The iron dug into my flesh. I pulled harder, yanking in time to the rhythm of my Queen’s voice.
Come, my Knight, come.
The ache in my wrists and arms and legs fell away under the sound of her voice. I tried to focus on the pain, use it to keep me grounded. I tried to focus on my nose, but her voice kept rising like a winter storm. I thought I was screaming, but the gag muffled everything. If I was screaming words, no one would ever know.
The magic of Winter’s Knight rose and railed against the cuffs where my normal magic had failed before. Even through the blindfold, I could see white light blazing from the cuffs. They seared me, and my screams rose with my Queen’s call.
Then she fell silent.
I collapsed back onto the table, shaking and numb. The cold lapped at me like Chicago’s lake in the middle of December. Beyond the blindfold, the two from before remained quiet.
I didn’t let myself think of them. I focused on my breathing. When the numbness faded, I would be in a world of hurt.
Ah, the things I have experience in.
I focused on my breathing, and it was like when I was a little kid and having problems sleeping. My dad never did the whole sheep thing. He had a full bag of tricks for getting a little kid to fall asleep while he was driving to his next gig. His favorite was letting the rhythm of my breathing lull me to sleep.
I focused on that and didn’t let myself think of the pain or the two beyond the blindfold or even my Queen’s silence.
It lulled me into darkness.
xoxoxox
When I woke again, the shackles were gone. I could feel bandages around my ankles and wrists. A dull ache had settled in my bones and in my skull. I didn’t move. I didn’t open my eyes. The blindfold and gag were gone, too, and a bed had replaced the cold metal from before.
Most importantly, the chill that lived permanently under my skin and behind my eyes was gone.
“You can open your eyes, Mr. Dresden,” a familiar voice said, sounding so amused I wanted to burn something out of sheer response.
Maybe Lea had a point about my pyromania.
Of course, she was also the one who was excited by virgin sacrifices, so her opinion didn’t count.
I breathed in deeply and told myself I wasn’t afraid of something as stupid as opening my eyes. I grew out of the childish belief that what I can’t see can’t hurt me a long time ago.
Except I came to realize what I saw could hurt others.
That was the case now.
“Open your eyes, Mr. Dresden,” that damned voice said, tone unchanging. Burn something. Now. “I have a present for you.”
It felt like there was gunk in my eyelashes keeping my eyelids glued together. I hoped not. That was always embarrassing. I forced my eyes open and blinked several times. For some reason, my eyes felt sore.
John Marcone was the first thing I saw. He sat on the edge of the opulent bed, one the size of my old bedroom. A smile tinged his lips, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the hint of a tiger’s fang peeking out.
I knew it was a damned obvious question, but I asked it, anyway. “Did it work?” My voice came out like a rasp, and I flinched. My throat was raw like I had been screaming.
Oh, yeah. I had been.
He raised an eyebrow, smooth as ever. Not a mark smudged his arrogant face, his suit neatly hiding his tiger stripes. “Was there a doubt?” Marcone inquired. “The Winter Queen relied far more heavily on the might of her Knight than she should have. It never occurred to her that you could be…misplaced.”
Misplaced. I snorted. It hadn’t been hard getting Marcone the information on how to keep me down and out of the fight; I’m positive the bastard had been building up something to stop me, anyway, probably stop me permanently. He just needed to upgrade his plans to stop a Knight as well as a wizard.
The hard part had been not thinking about it. All it would have taken was one stray thought, one loose end for Mab to pluck from my mind, to fuck everything up. As it was, Marcone kept his plans hidden from me, anyway.
It didn’t help that I knew, if Marcone was going to declare war on anyone, he would win. That type of certainty could be just as disastrous.
Of course, if Marcone was right and it was all over…
I moved to sit up, and Marcone instantly moved to my side, one gracious hand behind my back to help me up. I shot him a dirty look, and he smiled back at me. Being around him for five minutes always made me feel a little bad for my actions around Murphy. No wonder she gave me such nasty looks.
At least I could say I didn’t rub her back while my hand was there, though.
I tried to shift away, but to my surprise, I was too weak. Marcone’s indulgent look didn’t help my urge to flambé the whole damned place.
“You’re cut off from Winter’s power,” he said. “Your body needs time to adjust.”
I could feel Gard’s and Hendricks’ eyes on me from the doorway. Those two had been the ones to take me out in the first place and shackle me. I wonder how many bruises I would find on myself the shape of Hendricks’ hands.
“What did you do?” I asked, putting a hint of power in my voice. From the look on Marcone’s face, he wasn’t impressed.
Flam. Be.
“Nothing you should worry yourself about too much,” Marcone said smoothly. “Both Summer and Winter are equally disrupted, and Queen Mab has been gracious enough to sign your contract over to me.”
I couldn’t help but flinch a bit when I heard that. It didn’t surprise me, but I couldn’t think about it before, couldn’t allow myself any leeway to adjust before.
It took Marcone years, but the bastard finally got what he wanted.
His hand never paused on my back. “We’re still working on the fine details, but it’s mostly legalese. Nothing for you to worry yourself about.”
I tensed, trying to get away from his hand. It was soothing in a way that pissed me off. “I need to get in contact with the White Council. They’ll want to know -“
Now I knew I saw a tiger’s fang. “Don’t worry about the White Council. They have other things to worry about.”
My blood chilled in a way that had nothing to do with Winter. “What did you do?”
I had bared my throat to help Marcone attack the Sidhe. That had been the point. Free myself and weaken them so they couldn’t find Maggie. Lea had hinted before that they liked my bloodline, and Mab knew she was my daughter. I had proven in the past that I was willing to deal with the devil to save her. Marcone was just a mortal one.
But no less deadly than Mab.
In trying so hard not to let myself think about it, I had forgotten about that.
Marcone smiled at me, hand warm and soothing on my back. “Did you think I would allow them to continue their slaughter of ignorant children?” he asked, voice deceptively gentle. He used his other hand to lightly push me back onto the bed. “Rest, my Knight. You’ll need it.”
He brushed his fingers against my wrist as he left, possessively, and I shuddered.
I had to choose between the lady and the tiger.
The tiger won.
This entry was originally posted at http://tir-synni.dreamwidth.org/6103.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: Dresden Files
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for Changes, some dark content
Pairing: pre-Marcone/Dresden
A/N: Written for
dresden_kink
Summary: Dresden dangles between the Lady and the Tiger.
I hurt.
I really, really hurt.
And my nose itched.
That’s the worst thing about your hands being tied: your nose will inevitably itch. It’s a thing. Unfortunately, I have plenty of experience with this.
I focused on the itch, the desperate urge to scratch my nose. It distracted me from the shackles on my wrists and ankles and the blindfold over my eyes.
The itch was easier.
They were talking above me; I could hear the edge of anticipation in their voices. They talked too low for me to make out the words. I grunted at them, anyway. It was the most I could do with the gag in my mouth.
Surprisingly, the gag is new. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me that most of the bad guys do, in fact, appreciate my sense of humor.
Obviously, these two had no sense of humor. Bastards.
I wrinkled my nose and focused on the itch. My arms ached from being stretched out over my head. I couldn’t help but pull lightly at the shackles, even knowing it would do no good. They weren’t as nasty as the thorned shackles, but they were still tough. I tried using magic as soon as I had woken up earlier and found them around my wrists. I could feel the feedback loop, but that was all.
If the situation was more dire, I would consider the whole dislocating-my-thumb thing again, but the situation wasn’t to that point. Again, shiny new situation. This time, I liked the newness. I can evolve, adapt to new things, etc. etc. etc. As long as they don’t involve cutting me off from my morning coffee, I’m always adaptable.
Of course, none of this scratched my nose.
I wrinkled my nose again and let my itch distract me from the third voice. It was as soft as the other two but infinitely closer. It held an edge, too, icy cold and deadly sharp.
Queen Mab was calling her Knight.
I let the pain of my arms and my wrists flood my mind for a moment. My legs were pulled tightly, too, not allowing me an inch to kick at any idiot stupid enough to get close. Long legs could be annoying at times, but they were great for distance kicks. I pulled at my legs, anyway, just to test my mobility again. All I got for my noble effort was a leg cramp.
Yeah. Being tied up with a leg cramp is worse than having an itchy nose.
Who would have thought?
The other two voices silenced immediately, but I ignored them. Mab’s voice rose in my mind, like a wind rising in the middle of winter. I flinched and all I did was pull at my restraints.
She was calling, my Queen was calling, and I was tied to a table like a frog about to be dissected.
Ew, bad thought, definitely a bad thought.
She called again, anger sharp and cold in her voice, and I yanked at my wrists. The iron dug into my flesh. I pulled harder, yanking in time to the rhythm of my Queen’s voice.
Come, my Knight, come.
The ache in my wrists and arms and legs fell away under the sound of her voice. I tried to focus on the pain, use it to keep me grounded. I tried to focus on my nose, but her voice kept rising like a winter storm. I thought I was screaming, but the gag muffled everything. If I was screaming words, no one would ever know.
The magic of Winter’s Knight rose and railed against the cuffs where my normal magic had failed before. Even through the blindfold, I could see white light blazing from the cuffs. They seared me, and my screams rose with my Queen’s call.
Then she fell silent.
I collapsed back onto the table, shaking and numb. The cold lapped at me like Chicago’s lake in the middle of December. Beyond the blindfold, the two from before remained quiet.
I didn’t let myself think of them. I focused on my breathing. When the numbness faded, I would be in a world of hurt.
Ah, the things I have experience in.
I focused on my breathing, and it was like when I was a little kid and having problems sleeping. My dad never did the whole sheep thing. He had a full bag of tricks for getting a little kid to fall asleep while he was driving to his next gig. His favorite was letting the rhythm of my breathing lull me to sleep.
I focused on that and didn’t let myself think of the pain or the two beyond the blindfold or even my Queen’s silence.
It lulled me into darkness.
xoxoxox
When I woke again, the shackles were gone. I could feel bandages around my ankles and wrists. A dull ache had settled in my bones and in my skull. I didn’t move. I didn’t open my eyes. The blindfold and gag were gone, too, and a bed had replaced the cold metal from before.
Most importantly, the chill that lived permanently under my skin and behind my eyes was gone.
“You can open your eyes, Mr. Dresden,” a familiar voice said, sounding so amused I wanted to burn something out of sheer response.
Maybe Lea had a point about my pyromania.
Of course, she was also the one who was excited by virgin sacrifices, so her opinion didn’t count.
I breathed in deeply and told myself I wasn’t afraid of something as stupid as opening my eyes. I grew out of the childish belief that what I can’t see can’t hurt me a long time ago.
Except I came to realize what I saw could hurt others.
That was the case now.
“Open your eyes, Mr. Dresden,” that damned voice said, tone unchanging. Burn something. Now. “I have a present for you.”
It felt like there was gunk in my eyelashes keeping my eyelids glued together. I hoped not. That was always embarrassing. I forced my eyes open and blinked several times. For some reason, my eyes felt sore.
John Marcone was the first thing I saw. He sat on the edge of the opulent bed, one the size of my old bedroom. A smile tinged his lips, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the hint of a tiger’s fang peeking out.
I knew it was a damned obvious question, but I asked it, anyway. “Did it work?” My voice came out like a rasp, and I flinched. My throat was raw like I had been screaming.
Oh, yeah. I had been.
He raised an eyebrow, smooth as ever. Not a mark smudged his arrogant face, his suit neatly hiding his tiger stripes. “Was there a doubt?” Marcone inquired. “The Winter Queen relied far more heavily on the might of her Knight than she should have. It never occurred to her that you could be…misplaced.”
Misplaced. I snorted. It hadn’t been hard getting Marcone the information on how to keep me down and out of the fight; I’m positive the bastard had been building up something to stop me, anyway, probably stop me permanently. He just needed to upgrade his plans to stop a Knight as well as a wizard.
The hard part had been not thinking about it. All it would have taken was one stray thought, one loose end for Mab to pluck from my mind, to fuck everything up. As it was, Marcone kept his plans hidden from me, anyway.
It didn’t help that I knew, if Marcone was going to declare war on anyone, he would win. That type of certainty could be just as disastrous.
Of course, if Marcone was right and it was all over…
I moved to sit up, and Marcone instantly moved to my side, one gracious hand behind my back to help me up. I shot him a dirty look, and he smiled back at me. Being around him for five minutes always made me feel a little bad for my actions around Murphy. No wonder she gave me such nasty looks.
At least I could say I didn’t rub her back while my hand was there, though.
I tried to shift away, but to my surprise, I was too weak. Marcone’s indulgent look didn’t help my urge to flambé the whole damned place.
“You’re cut off from Winter’s power,” he said. “Your body needs time to adjust.”
I could feel Gard’s and Hendricks’ eyes on me from the doorway. Those two had been the ones to take me out in the first place and shackle me. I wonder how many bruises I would find on myself the shape of Hendricks’ hands.
“What did you do?” I asked, putting a hint of power in my voice. From the look on Marcone’s face, he wasn’t impressed.
Flam. Be.
“Nothing you should worry yourself about too much,” Marcone said smoothly. “Both Summer and Winter are equally disrupted, and Queen Mab has been gracious enough to sign your contract over to me.”
I couldn’t help but flinch a bit when I heard that. It didn’t surprise me, but I couldn’t think about it before, couldn’t allow myself any leeway to adjust before.
It took Marcone years, but the bastard finally got what he wanted.
His hand never paused on my back. “We’re still working on the fine details, but it’s mostly legalese. Nothing for you to worry yourself about.”
I tensed, trying to get away from his hand. It was soothing in a way that pissed me off. “I need to get in contact with the White Council. They’ll want to know -“
Now I knew I saw a tiger’s fang. “Don’t worry about the White Council. They have other things to worry about.”
My blood chilled in a way that had nothing to do with Winter. “What did you do?”
I had bared my throat to help Marcone attack the Sidhe. That had been the point. Free myself and weaken them so they couldn’t find Maggie. Lea had hinted before that they liked my bloodline, and Mab knew she was my daughter. I had proven in the past that I was willing to deal with the devil to save her. Marcone was just a mortal one.
But no less deadly than Mab.
In trying so hard not to let myself think about it, I had forgotten about that.
Marcone smiled at me, hand warm and soothing on my back. “Did you think I would allow them to continue their slaughter of ignorant children?” he asked, voice deceptively gentle. He used his other hand to lightly push me back onto the bed. “Rest, my Knight. You’ll need it.”
He brushed his fingers against my wrist as he left, possessively, and I shuddered.
I had to choose between the lady and the tiger.
The tiger won.
This entry was originally posted at http://tir-synni.dreamwidth.org/6103.html. Please comment there using OpenID.