#nightmare's shadow

As a foster parent, I am very literally an irl "Caretaker" by profession. Complete with ongoing training on how to help people recover from trauma. I was recently contemplating this in conversation with how I enjoy Whump content.

Of course, its not the only reason I enjoy whump, ive enjoyed it since I was a kid and didnt know it was its own thing. But I enjoy it differently now, as an adult.

The kids I take care of have been through hell. Sometimes theyve had it worse than others, but my training all centers around worst case scenario to be prepared.

It can get pretty dark. And nobody likes to talk about it. People who dont do what I do often dont get it. They really dont get it. And often they dont want to. And even if they do I cant discuss details of my kids trauma with them because its a kids trauma. Thats private information.

In whump, we deal with dark heavy stuff that isnt far off from things ive dealt with in real life. Except unlike most whump ive encountered, I always deal with kids.

Kids who cant bathe alone because of fear and trauma.

Kids with scars around their wrists.

Kids who hoard food because they dont know when theyll be fed again.

And more.

And I also deal with their parents. And I have to work hard sometimes to have compassion for them and never EVER trash talk them, especially where the kids could hear. Because life is way more complicated than a whump fic, and the parents werent always the abusers anyway. Its not my job to judge and punish.

My jobe is caretaking. The kids literally arent even in my custody. They are on my care.

In whump I get a catharsis similar to how when I play skyrim I can murder the child abusers and adopt all the abused kids. I cant do that in real life.

This is one of the reasons my whumpees get to take revenge on their whumpers, like Inrissa in Nightmares Shadow.

Nightmare's Shadow is a whump fic based on a beloved dnd character of mine with events coming from the campaign I played her in.

Inrissa is a tiefling who was enslaved from childhood, then escaped and killed her captors to embark on a quest to get her enchanted collar removed and kill the smith who forged it. Contains emotional whump, torture, slavery, dehumanization, betrayals, and death.

Part One- The Aren Glade

Part Two- Faces of Fortune

Part Three- Firstforged

Part Four- It Takes One To Know One

Part Five- One Good Thing

My first whump fic that I will be posting! Masterlist here!

If I miss any significant content warnings or tags please let me know so I can get it right :)

Cw: torture, slavery, dehumanization, lady whump

Nightmare’s Shadow is the story of Inrissa, an old beloved DnD character of mine, following her story during the events that happened in game with flashbacks to backstory events as well. She is a Tiefling, which means in her case she has coal black skin, silver hair and silver eyes, a tail, and horns. Since the campaign obviously wasn’t just about her there will be a lot of stuff happening on the periphery that I don’t go into, focusing instead on her story. 

Nightmare’s Shadow Part 1- The Aren Glade

Inrissa walked silently over the dirt path and had to remind herself not to disappear into the shadows. To walk with shoulders straight and gaze up, like she deserved to be there. Like she was just anyone else. 

The light weight of her enchanted headpiece assured her that her disguise was intact. So anybody looking at her would see exactly that- someone who belonged, just like any of the other humans or elves she walked past. 

But the pressure around her neck reminded her of the truth. The truth that anyone would see if she took off her disguise or let them get too close. The truth that she wasn’t like any of the people she walked past, and not just because among the variations of human, elf, gnome, and even shining scales of the dragonborn, there were no other tieflings. No, it was more than that. These people had a happiness and freedom that made Inrissa ache.

Children laughed and chased each other, some even testing out early magical abilities. Adults worked, but with no hurry or fear in their movements, some weren’t even working, just relaxing or playing with the children. 

Inrissa wanted to stay here, to make this her home, it was so peaceful. She wanted to set down her pack and let it take root, and just leave behind all the pain and fear she carried with her. But that wasn’t an option. The collar around her neck made sure of that, not to mention her broken off horns and lacework of scars. Anyone who saw her- really saw her- would know at once she didn’t belong here. Not really. 

A child skipped past her, collecting the red and orange autumn leaves in a bouquet. Inrissa made sure her tail was curled around her ankle so it wouldn’t escape the bounds of her disguise. The child looked up at her and smiled, two front teeth missing. Inrissa forced a smile back.

“Hey kid,” she said. “Is this the Aren Glade?”

“Yep,” the child nodded, then squinted at her. “You a traveler, miss?”

“Yep,” Inrissa said, imitating the kid's tone. The kid laughed and handed her a red oak leaf, then ran off. Inrissa turned the leaf over in her fingers, then tucked it behind her ear. 

She had made it to the Aren Glade. She brushed her fingers over the engraved symbol on her collar, a shiver running through her. She was one step closer to finding the elite team of the Reklum Imperial Guard. One step closer to Prometheus Firstforged, the smith who had forged her collar.  

Of the rage and fear constantly warring in her veins, the rage grew stronger and she smiled. She was one step closer to getting the collar removed. And then she could kill the bastard who made it.

—-------------

(Two Years Previous)

Inrissa cried out as her arms were pulled taught, cold metal cuffs on her wrist pulled by chains until her arms were held straight out to her sides. Fear coursed through her and her knees buckled, despite the strain it put on her shoulders. 

“Ah ah ah,” a sickly, condescending voice came from behind her, sending a shiver down her spine. Inrissa knew that voice. Every palace slave did. Shayla. An elven woman who had used her centuries of life to perfect the art of inflicting pain. “I need you standing for this, pet.”

Shayla grabbed the back of Inrissa’s collar, eliciting a strangled cough. Inrissa forced herself back to full height as she felt a flash of magical heat at the back of her neck. The clinking of chains and a pressure on her windpipe. A chain connected to the ceiling was now attached to the back of her collar. Ready to strangle her if she didn’t stand. 

“Please,” she gasped out, knowing in her gut it was useless. “Please. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are,” Shayla said, circling around to look Inrissa in the eye. She was tall and lithe, with cruel blue eyes and blond hair, long on one side, shaved on the other. “Just not sorry enough. You seem to have forgotten your place, pet. This is a lesson to help you remember.”

Inrissa had never forgotten. She had just been desperate enough for the first time in years to make this kind of a mistake. Except it turned out that wasn’t her biggest mistake at all. 

Nevaeh.

Her only friend. The only one who had ever shown her kindness. She was dead, and it was Inrissa’s fault. 

The grief of that truth had blinded her to her own safety. Only for a moment, but that was all it took.

Shayla flicked her wrist, and with a shimmer in the air a tool materialized between her delicate fingers. Long and sharp. Shaped like a pen for writing, but with a blade for a tip. 

Inrissa struggled against the chains, but she couldn’t move more than an inch before she could no longer breathe. Her ankles shackled securely to the floor, even her whip thin tail was bound against her leg to keep it from interfering. 

“You’ll want to hold still,” Shayla said with a sadistic smirk. “It’ll take longer if I keep having to make corrections to the design, after all.”

“Please don’t,” Inrissa pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her arms trembled, already aching against the forced position. “Please, please. Please, don’t.”

“We can use the bell to shut her up, ma’am, if you want,” the voice of a guard came from the door. Inrissa closed her eyes and braced for the oppressive vacuum of silence.

“No,” Shayla said. She rested a hand on Inrissa’s arm, tracing her fingers over Inrissa’s charcoal skin. “I find the screams help me focus.”

Inrissa shuddered under those words, almost wishing for the silence instead. 

Without warning, the blade stabbed into Inrissa’s shoulder, twisting in the muscle, then tracking a white hot line of pain down her arm, curling with whatever horrible design was being applied to her. 

Inrissa screamed, a strangled agonizing cry. Her body jerked out of her control, cutting off her screams every time she pulled against her collar. Her vision blurred and the world dissolved into pain.

The woman with the blade hummed cheerfully into Inrissa’s ear as she worked.

A very fun chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Cw: emotional whump, slavery referenced, lady whump (nothing physical or graphic this chapter), fantasy whump

Masterlist / Previous

“Inrissa?” Nevaeh breathed the word, but her stance didn’t relax and her blade was still between them. Inrissa hadn’t even touched her blade yet.  Because this was Nevaeh. Unmistakably. And she could never raise a hand against her. 

“I thought you were dead,” Inrissa said. She felt like her heart had cracked open and all of her grief was spilling out like blood. Nevaeh was alive. And she was right here.

“Well, I thought you’d still be…” Nevaeh said, shrugging instead of finishing the sentence.

“I got out,” Inrissa said. Obvious. But what else was there to say? She wanted to say everything and found herself saying nothing. Her entire world had just been made brighter, but a sliver of uncertainty was working its way in. Why didn’t Nevaeh look happy to see her?

Nevaeh shifted uncomfortably, glancing around. Inrissa could only guess what she was worried about, or who she was worried about.

“I..” Inrissa reached out towards the other woman then pulled her hand back. “I’m glad to see you.”

Nevaeh’s face softened a fraction and Inrissa’s heart eased.

“I’m glad to see you, too, Inrissa,” she said. “How…did you..?”

“I’m traveling with the Elite Guard,” Inrissa said. Nevaeh raised her eyebrows.

“Really? Impressive.”

Inrissa felt a surge of pride at the praise. 

“Perfect,” Nevaeh continued. “I can’t talk right now. But I can meet with you in…two days. Tell Larkspur you have a meeting with Katrina in the usual place. She’ll be able to find me.”

“Alright,” Inrissa said. She wanted to say so much, to ask questions, but she had no idea what Nevaeh was dealing with. She couldn’t bear the thought of causing her trouble, not when she’d just gotten her back from the dead. “I’ll see you in two days.”

Nevaeh nodded, then disappeared around another corner. Inrissa didn’t try to follow her. She let her go into the city. Disappearing from her life. Inrissa’s lungs shuddered with fear, that that would be the last time she saw Nevaeh. Again.

Sweat slicked her palms and she rubbed them against her pants, slipping back into the crowd on the street. The enchanted stone on her necklace chimed.

Inrissa tapped the stone lightly and the message from Absalom came through, giving her directions to the place where she could meet back up with the Elite Guard. 

Prometheus’ Firstofrged workshop and forge. Well, at least she would be at her intended destination finally. Two days. 

If it was going to be that long, maybe by the time she saw Nevaeh again she could be truly free. Inrissa’s hand brushed against the cold, harsh metal of her collar. She had been so young when she’d been collared. A shudder ran through her at the memory, the brutal violence, the callous removal of her horns on the same night. That night had changed her. Broken her.

Would removing the collar change her, too? Surely, but how much? The damage of a lifetime couldn’t just be wiped away. Inrissa had no idea who she would be when the collar was removed. 

—--

The Elite Guard had gathered in Prometheus’ workshop, but Natala hadn’t returned with them. Her duties held her in the Palace for now, to Inrissa’s disappointment. She glanced to Larkspur. Nevaeh knew her personally, at least, under a different name. Was Nevaeh even her real name?

Inrissa pushed the thought away. She would get her answers from Nevaeh in two days. Interrogating Larkspur about it would necessitate explanations that Inrissa wasn’t ready to give. All of her resolve for exposing her secrets would be needed if she was going to confront Firstforged and ask for his help. 

The anticipation of the conversation she dreaded had made it impossible for her to absorb what the rest of them had been discussing once she had arrived. With every breath she felt like her collar was constricting more tightly around her throat. Inrissa stood with her arms crossed, her nails digging into her skin as she stared at Prometheus. Studying him.

The uncertainty planted in her chest by Nevaeh mixed with her ever seething anger and bubbled to a boiling point. Fear permeated all of it. 

If she could trust them, she would confront Prometheus with everyone present. In case he turned on her, in case he wasn’t what he pretended. But if that were the case, why would his friends side against him to help her? No.

She would get him alone. She waited as the others trickled out, heading into the city to attend to their personal business. But this was Prometheus’ forge, his personal business was here. Which meant so was Inrissa’s. 

Finally, they were alone. Prometheus glanced at her awkwardly. Inrissa cracked her knuckles and straightened her posture.

“Firstforged,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Alright,” he said. He put down the tools he had picked up to give her his full attention. Inrissa couldn’t tell if that should comfort her or frighten her.

“I..I need…your help,” Inrissa forced the words out. Her hands started shaking and she couldn’t stop it. A tremor crept into her voice, and Prometheus’ brow furrowed. Inrissa tried to swallow the fear but there was nowhere else for it to go. This was it. Once she told him there was no going back. If it went badly, she could ruin her chances of finding refuge anywhere in the Empire. 

“The reason…I knew who you were…” Inrissa stammered, cursing herself for the weakness coming through her voice. “I..look, I was looking for you. When I went to the Glade. It was to find you. Because…the reason I know you…”

Inrissa took a deep breath and dropped her illusory disguise. Letting her true face show, her charcoal skin, the silver scars, the broken horns. And around her neck, the thick metal collar with a silent bell. She reached her trembling hands up to her neck, tracing the ridges of Prometheus’ symbol, now glaring at her from every corner of the workshop. 

“I need you to take this off.”

She wished she had some speech, some leverage to use against him, but there was nothing. She couldn’t bring herself to bargain for this. To be allowed to exist like everyone else, like a person should be able to exist. Everything was such a fight, she couldn’t- no wouldn’t- humiliate herself by pleading, by offering something up. If she had to, she would threaten him. But for the moment it took everything she had just to let him see her for who she was. 

Prometheus fell to his knees with a heavy thud, staring at Inrissa. His eyes were fixed on her neck. On the collar. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice strangled. Anger spiked through Inrissa’s turmoil and she scowled.

“What do you not understand?” she spat, one hand itching towards her dagger. “I want you to take the damn collar off!”

“How…how did this happen?” Prometheus asked weakly. Rage roared in Inrissa’s ears and she stepped up to him, their eyes level while he was on his knees.

“You trying to tell me you didn’t make this? That your hands didn’t forge this?” she hissed.

“No,” Prometheus confessed, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I did. I…that is my work.” His shoulders shuddered and Inrissa growled.

“They…used my work to…what? Make…slaves?”

Inrissa grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her burning gaze. 

“I was already a slave when I got this,” she spat. “This is a muzzle. A control.”

The look on his face was stricken. A horror Inrissa knew in her gut couldn’t be faked. His ignorance only served to enrage her further.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you didn’t know?” Inrissa roared. She put her heel to his chest and put all of her force behind it, kicking him backwards to the ground. “How could you not know? This is your work, didn’t you bother paying attention to what you were making?”

Releasing her anger felt good. She let it pour out from her like waves of steam, filling the room with heat. She stepped over Prometheus, ready to push him back down or draw blood when he fought back.

But…

Then he didn’t.

Prometheus Firstforged let himself be kicked to the floor and just…stayed there. He turned his face back towards her and tears were cutting tracks down his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice crystallized with defeat and sorrow. Anguish. The anger inside Inrissa swirled, clouding her vision. But she couldn’t take it out on Prometheus. Not now. Not like this. Not with a blade. 

Inrissa let out a strangled scream and turned away from him, her tail whipping behind her then curling around her ankle. 

“Whatever,” Inrissa said. “Just take it off.”

She blinked hard to clear the tears and haze of fury from her gaze. Prometheus didn’t answer her so she turned back towards him with a scowl. He could be pathetic, he could be sad and ignorant, fine, but she would get what she came for. He wasn’t putting up a fight like this, if he was as broken and guilt ridden as he acted then he should jump at the chance for any redemption.  She met his gaze and he flinched. 

That gave her a taste of satisfaction that was drowned out by the horrible revelation in his next words. 

Did I just post one of these earlier today? Yes. But I got another chapter ready and have no restraint. This ones not a very whumpy chapter, part 5 will have more of that in a flashback scene and more fun stuff, but I love what we get to explore this chapter.

Cw: not a whumpy chapter, just references to past trauma, scars, shame surrounding appearances related to scars, keeping lady whump on the list even for a whump light chapter

Masterlist / Previous

Part 4- It Takes One To Know One

Inrissa stood with her back against a tree, keeping all the members of the Elite Guard in her line of sight. Her fingers twitched at the hilt of her blade, Whisper, at every sound from the forest around them. Across from her, the sniper Ling had taken up a similar vantage point. Perched in a tree, the goggled gnome would occasionally lock eyes with Inrissa. A warning. An acknowledgement. 

They were discussing a report they would make to the Emperor on their return to the capital. Reklum. A city Inrissa had only dreamed about. Her heart ached at the memory of when she had first heard the city's name. Nevaeh had told her of it so lovingly, painting a picture of a utopia. Those stories, the memories of Nevaeh’s smile and gentle laugh, and the memory of a soft hand on hers were all that had kept Inrissa going for years. Reklum was the refuge she had dreamed about, the ultimate goal. Well, that and getting rid of the collar. Now both were in her grasp.

The proximity to her goals made Inrissa nauseous. Something was going to go wrong, she knew it. Nothing ever came easy for her. There was nothing good that hadn’t been ripped away from her. Fear rippled through her.

It had been so easy. It was too easy. Finding the Elite Guard, convincing them to let her join them- or at least travel in their proximity- it was too easy. It had to be a trap. They would wait until she was asleep, maybe? And then what? 

Inrissa’s breath caught and she clenched her fists so hard her nails cut into her palms, drawing blood. No. She wouldn’t let them pull one over on her. She would be ready. She would-

“Hey, Inrissa?” A voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Inrissa turned and met the gaze of Princess Natala, the slender, pink haired half elf. She smiled and quirked an eyebrow at the dagger in Inrissa’s hand. 

“Sorry,” Inrissa said, resheathing the weapon. She would have to be more careful, she couldn’t give them a reason to turn on her, if that’s what they were waiting for. 

“No worries,” Natala said with a shrug. “I just…can I talk to you a bit?” She tipped her head deeper into the woods, flicking her eyes away from the group. The signal was clear, enough that Inrissa was sure that Ling noticed the Princess seeking out a private audience with her. Hopefully the gnome wouldn’t follow them. 

“Sure,” Inrissa said. The Princess practically skipped into the trees as Inrissa followed, her own footsteps silently ghosting along the leaves and frosted plants. Even with the somber air that the group had been marinating in since Inrissa first saw them, the Princess had very clearly been trying to pull out of it first. It was forced, that much Inrissa could tell, the girl was young but hardly carefree. 

Once they were out of earshot and line of sight of the others, she stopped and turned to face Inrissa. She squinted at her, looking her over for an uncomfortable moment. Inrissa shifted and crossed her arms. 

“What did you want to talk about, your highness?”

“Just call me Natala,” the girl said quickly. “I mean it.”

“Natala,” Inrissa said, carefully. 

“And I wanted to give you a heads up,” Natala said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “We’re going back to Reklum soon, almost directly to the Palace to report to my father.”

“I heard,” Inrissa said. 

“Well, Absalom will invite you to come with us for the report,” Natala said, her expression neutral but serious. “You should probably take the chance to go check out the city, instead. You’ve never been before, right?”

“You don’t want me to meet your father?” Inrissa asked, ignoring the princesses question. What was going on? Why would Natala tell her not to go, but not tell Absalom not to invite her? She outranked him, that was for sure, and she could definitely overrule him about who met the Emperor even if during field work Absalom was in charge.

“It’s not that,” Natala said. “Just…look, the Palace has very intense security. Including against magic. And illusions.”

Inrissa froze, her blood turning to lead in her veins and her heart skidded to a stop. 

“How…” she stuttered, gasping for air. How did Natala know she was using an illusion? Did they all know? Could the Elite Guard see through her disguise? Had they all seen her face? Her broken horns? The scars that crossed her skin like lace?

“Hey, it’s okay, the others don’t know,” Natala said, reaching out a hand towards Inrissa, but not quite touching her. Leaving room for Inrissa to decide if she accepted physical touch. She did not. Inrissa pulled back, stepping away from the Princess. 

“How do you know?” Inrissa asked quietly, looking away. She had to get a hold of herself. 

“Well, I…” now it was Natalas turn to recoil, her fingers turning fidgety and her shoulders hunching. She quickly straightened back to her neutral posture. She took a deep breath. “I guess…it takes one to know one.”

Natala reached up to her hair line and Inrissa gaped as the Princess’s illusion fell away, revealing her true face. Or Inrissa imagined this was the true face, why would the Princess create a false face like this one? Her face was a mottled burn scar, her hairline jagged with the scar tissue. Natala looked away and put her illusory face back on hurriedly. 

Inrissa stood rooted to the spot. How did that happen to someone like the Princess of the Empire? Well, she had been out travelling with the Elite Guard, did that have something to do with it? Except the scar had been old. As old as some of Inrissa’s scars. The princess had been scarred as a child. 

“I can’t see through yours, so I don’t know what you’re hiding,” Natala said quietly. “I just recognize the enchantment, I study magic and…I use that one a lot. But..just, I know what it’s like. To have a face you don’t want to be known for.”

“I…” Inrissa tried to speak but found no words for the feeling in her chest. It wasn’t quite kinship, she didn’t know enough about Natala for that. Respect. That was it, or part of it at least. 

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry,” Natala said. “Just…yeah, my illusion will hold up in the Palace, being me, but yours…well, if you aren’t ready to show them your face, you should go somewhere else.”

“Thank you.” Inrissa finally managed to form a sentence. “And…I wasn’t going to say I was sorry. You don’t need my pity.”

Gratitude flashed in Natalas eyes and she smiled. 

“I just…do they know?” Inrissa asked, glancing back towards where the rest of the Elite Guard was. 

“No,” Natala confessed. “Not yet. I think…I’ll have to tell them soon. It’s just…complicated.”

Inrissa nodded. She didn’t need the details to understand that. The weight of her collar suddenly felt suffocating. She would have to reveal her own secrets soon enough as well. She hated to think about it. She hated that she would have to expose herself to Prometheus Firstforged of all people, let him see everything broken about her. She hated being defined by all the things that had been done to her, all the things that had been out of her control.

Natala put on her smile again and walked past Inrissa, back towards the others. Inrissa waited a moment before following. The only royalty she had known before today had been the ones who kept her as a pet. As a decoration for their halls of treasures. None of the Nozrothian royalty would ever have gone out of their way to be kind, not even to each other, much less to someone like Inrissa. And Natala had done it with barely a thought. She didn’t know Inrissa, but she kept her secret, didn’t tell the others about her disguise, and warned her before she could be revealed. 

A warmth settled in Inrissa’s chest as she headed back towards the clearing. Nevaeh had been right after all. There really were good people in the world, and they could be found in the Empire.

Part 3- Firstforged

(turns out not every chapter will have a flashback portion, but there will be more of those do not worry.)

Cw: this chapter is really more emotional whump, slavery mention, still lady whump, I think thats it

Masterlist / Previous

The eyes of the Elite Guard stared at Inrissa like they were trying to peel away her secrets and see into her soul. She held her breath and eyed them warily. The chief had introduced her as someone who could help them, someone with skills they could use. He had said she was trustworthy. Even so, they looked her over with apprehension. So at least they weren’t complete idiots. 

“Why do you want to help us?” Absalom ventured first. “Our work is dangerous.”

“I’m no stranger to that,” Inrissa said, crossing her arms to keep herself from drawing a dagger just for its comforting weight. “Besides, I think y’all can help me, too. Unless I was wrong and you aren’t interested in tracking down the Society.”

Her words had the desired effect. Dropping the name of the underground organization responsible for her enslavement was a risk- if they hadn’t known about it, for one thing, it would’ve been useless. And if they knew too much, they might think she was one of them. 

She watched Prometheus for his reaction out of the corner of her eye. Did his comrades know about his involvement? The way his expression darkened didn’t answer her questions.

All of them tensed, eyes wide, and she now commanded their full attention. 

“We definitely are interested in tracking down the Society,” Absalom said. “We’ve had a few run ins with them, but…well, we still don’t know much.”

“Well, I know some, I just don’t have your…resources,” Inrissa said. From Absalom’s tone, at least, the Guard was working against the Society. At least where the public was concerned. She wouldn’t be surprised if the whole lot of them were rotten underneath, though. She would kill them all if she had to. Once she got what she needed from them.

“She has great skill, I’ve seen it myself,” the chief said encouragingly. Inrissa smiled, he didn’t know the half of it. But his endorsement pushed their hesitance over the edge and Absalom nodded. 

“If you intend to join us, I’m sure we’ll get to see you in action soon enough,” Absalom said. 

Join them? Already? Inrissa could hardly believe that was all it took. Then again, there were five of them and one of her, they probably figured she wasn’t too much of a threat if she turned on them. Or they were willing to see if she died or ran at the first sign of trouble. But it was exactly what she needed.

Besides, she knew better than to take them all head on. After all, she hadn’t killed the King of Nozroth by challenging his army outright. No, it was in the dead of night with a shroud of silence that her finest work was performed.

She kept her gaze from lingering on Prometheus for too long, she didn’t want to draw attention to her interest in him. She needed to get them to let their guard down, at least enough to get him alone. To get him to remove the collar, she would have to reveal her true face, and there was no way in the nine hells she was doing that in front of everyone. 

“What exactly are your skills?” his voice made Inrissa’s eyes snap to his face, her barely contained rage bubbling up. Prometheus Firstforged looked her over with a skeptical brow. 

“I’m good with a knife,” Inrissa said. She bit back other words, clenching her jaw to keep from outright snarling at him. The skin under her collar burned at the sight of his symbol, right there on his armor and weapons. Hatred seeped from her pores like steam.

“Good with a knife?” Prometheus said, a note of sarcasm spiking Inrissa’s anger further. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh, would you like a demonstration?” Inrissa snapped, her daggers, Whisper and Thorn, suddenly in her hands as she stood directly in front of the hulking smith. She was so much smaller than him but she didn’t care. Size didn’t make a difference- all it took was a knife between the ribs or across the throat. 

He didn’t flinch.

“I mean, yeah, at some point, that’s a good idea,” he said, rolling his shoulders. Casual. “Not that I’m volunteering to be your practice dummy, of course.”

“Don’t patronize me, Firstforged,” Inrissa spat the words like acid. Her hands burned to drive the blades into his flesh and twist, to let the lifeblood pour out of him and watch him suffer until the last moment. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The collar around her neck was a constant reminder. She had to hold back until it was gone. For all she knew, Prometheus was one of the people who could activate the spells attached to the collar, shocking or even killing her. 

“Firstforged?” Prometheus asked, his brow furrowing and his sarcastic expression vanishing.

Shit.

Inrissa had forgotten as a member of the Guard only his first name was used. Probably to keep his public identity separate from his shady work, supplying the very Society he claimed to be fighting against with his team.

“How do you know my last name?” he asked. There was no going back now. Inrissa stepped back and sheathed her daggers.

“Surprised your reputation precedes you?” she said. Her voice seethed with rage, she couldn’t contain it or hide it. She could see confusion in the eyes of the others, and the sniper, Ling, had her crossbow leveled at Inrissa’s head. 

“My reputation. As a smith?” Prometheus asked. The shock in his voice was almost laughable, if it didn’t make her want to stab him so badly. 

“Yes,” Inrissa said. 

Prometheus tilted his head, then straightened his shoulders, an expression coming over him. Pride. Surprise and pride. Like he hadn’t even considered that he would be recognized for his work- the work he wore on his body like a walking advertisement. That she wore on her neck like a brand. 

It was as if, more than any of his exploits with the Elite Guard, recognition for his work at the forge was the greatest accomplishment of his stupid, pampered life. 

It took everything Inrissa had not to tear out his throat with her teeth right then and there.

Part 2- Faces of Fortune

In part two we meet most of the remaining important characters for her story, Inrissa gets closer to her goal of murder, and you get to meet Nevaeh! Trying to figure out how to introduce the important stuff without it being confusing is fun, bear with me, once we get through the intro period things get more intense emotionally and whump wise.

CW: slavery, lady whump, thats about it this is content wise a more mild installment, mostly introducing characters and stuff

Part 2- Faces of Fortune

Part One

Inrissa leaned against the frost covered tree trunk, tilting her head to have a clear view of the meeting in progress without leaving her place of concealment. Her breath frosted in the air.

Six weeks at the Aren Glade, building trust with the Tribe- particularly their chief, the father of Absalom of the Elite Guard- were finally paying off. The Guard were finally back on land, after an extended mission at sea. Because of course they were at sea, where she couldn’t reach them for over a month.  

It didn’t look like they had had a good time, either, Inrissa noted as she took stock of the group. All of them looked exhausted, and their expressions carried every stage of grief. And one of their members hadn’t come back with them.

Prometheus Firstforged was there, his hulking frame stooped with the loss of his comrade. He was built like a bear, and adorned like a ceremonial weapons display. Everything about him, from his boots to his armor, reeked of privilege and wealth. His armor bore the Imperial Crest and, of course, the same cursed symbol emblazoned on Inrissa’s own neck. Inrissa dug her fingernails into the bark of the tree and gritted her teeth.

Absalom explained things to his father, professional and stoic, just as she would have expected from the Elite Guard’s leader and the chief's son. The smallest member of the team was perched in a tree on a high branch, goggles magnifying her eyes and a crossbow on her knee. Ling, Inrissa found the name on her memorized list of Guard members. The sniper. That left Larkspur, a middle aged human woman. And instead of the dwarf that should have been on the team, there was another woman. A half elf in elegant garb, with long pink hair and elaborate jewelry. 

Inrissa listened to Absalom’s debriefing to figure out who this girl was- she didn’t look much older than Inrissa herself, which meant she was only in her twenties. Finally, she caught a name.

Natala. Not just a name, though, but a title as well. 

Princess Natala.

Of course. Because the Elite Imperial Guard wasn’t called that because of their skill, or at least not exclusively for that. They were the literal elite. Traveling with a Princess herself. Inrissa felt her hatred of them crystallize in her chest.

The Empire was supposed to be a place of opportunity, where she could find refuge and new beginnings. And maybe it was, but so far it just hurt to see. Every ounce of good, of safety, of power, all of it she had had to take by force. To fight for with bloodshed and suffering. But these people didn’t just get security, power, and happiness. They didn’t just get a good life, the kind she wished she had. The kind she could barely dare hope for. No, they didn’t stop there.

These people just couldn’t get enough. 

—------

Four Years Previous

The girl with the red hair tried to get Inrissa to smile, but the young Tiefling stared vacantly at the floor she was cleaning. She hadn’t spoken when anyone could hear in over a year. She didn’t dare break the streak now. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl with red hair knelt beside Inrissa and pulled a rag from the bucket. “Here, I’ll help you, you won’t get in trouble since you’re still working. I’m Nevaeh. What’s your name?”

Inrissa looked at the girl, Nevaeh, trying to decide what she wanted. What kind of a trick could this be? Surely it was a trick; no one would really want to talk to her, no one ever had. Not even other slaves. Even among them, she was the lowest, and she knew it. She was a Tiefling; a monster. She was bad.

Every breath reminded her what she deserved, the metal collar around her neck squeezing with every twitch of muscle. 

Nevaeh wasn’t like her; a regular servant, not even a slave. And human. And pretty. With pale skin and freckles, and long red hair in a neat braid. Her scars were few, and her smile- it must be a lie. Inrissa knew it in her gut. It wasn’t a real smile for her. It had to be some kind of trick. 

Inrissa looked back down and tried to ignore the girl. To keep working. That had to be the right answer. Unless she could get in trouble for ignoring someone? Someone who’s a real person; she should respect them. Inrissa froze, her grip tightening around the rag. What was the right answer?

“Are you okay?” Nevaeh reached out and put a hand on Inrissa’s shoulder. Inrissa felt her joints lock into place and her breath was trapped in her lungs at the touch, anticipating agony. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for silence and pain to engulf her. 

Instead, a soft hand wrapped around hers. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Navaeh whispered. “I promise.”

It was too good to be true. And nothing good in Inrissa’s life had ever been true before. But nobody had ever pretended to be nice to her like this before, either. She didn’t understand what it meant.

Inrissa nodded and pulled her hand away. It hurt to pull away, her hand itched to return to the kind touch.  But it was too risky.  

Nevaeh stayed nearby, helping with Inrissa’s work, and making the occasional soft, kind remark. For hours. 

Her presence was like cold water on a burn, soothing. Inrissa was desperate not to lose it. The evening was closing in, so before they were forced to part ways, Inrissa stopped and looked up, finally looking the other girl in the eye. 

“Inrissa,” she said. “My name…it’s Inrissa.”