Our Little Black Death

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Delilah comes back with two glasses and an unopened bottle of goldwine (whiskey) from Jenna. It was expensive but after today she needed the indulgence, and she could tell her father did too.

The musical clink and pour is a soft accompaniment to the silence between them before a generous glass is placed in front of Kurtz. Taking the seat perpendicular to him, Delilah raises her glass in anticipation of a toast.

The anticipation is almost too much for Kurtz, but he raises his glass to meet that of his daughter, tips his head slightly before sinking the contents in one. A relaxed and relieved sigh escapes his lips as he raises his head to look upwards. His eyes locking on the damage caused by the recent invasion he pauses momentarily. He levels his gaze once more.

“I don’t know why I feel any attachment to this place, but I’m glad this little fort is still here after hearing of the Gith, after what happened to Silvia…”

“Was it bad? Did you lose many, daughter?”

A slight flush of anger rises once more as his grip tightens on the glass. “Less for that blasted Wizard I could have been here, could have helped.”

Delilah has begun refilling both of their glasses after similarly draining her own glass in one fell swoop. Her head was buzzing already but she focused on the action of pouring the drinks.

“If the curse had not turned me into a living ghost, I too could have been here to help. As it was, I did what I could when the news first broke, but in a fight… I would have been useless. We did not stay.” She corks the bottle, pushing it away just a little. “I did not see the battle, but when we returned I saw the destruction, I read the names,” Delilah gestures over to the notice board. In the centre, surrounded as if to memoralise it, is a single sheet of paper with a list of names. “When I saw Silvia’s name I-…” Her black eyes find her father’s and there’s a look, very similar to the one that had just crossed his face. “I failed my sister. I wasn’t there to protect her. And she died. But… Pentaghast brought her back.” A wry smirk curls her lips. “Yet another reason to thank him, father.”

A grimace, but a brief one. “Yes, in good time I will make it up to that book thief, he has balanced the scales of you’ll excuse an old dragon pun.

“Living as long as I have, lists like that lose their impact. I’m sure at some point I’ve been the cause of one or two, but tonight let’s focus on creating a page with just one name. That of your mother. I don’t know much about that lady we saw by the Giants, but it reeks of Demona and it’s time we worked out how to permanently pierce that cold cruel heart of hers, preferably with sharp steel.” His eyes locked on his daughters, Kurtz keeps a steady tone, but the low volume of his voice echoes louder than shouting at the top of his lungs would have in this hall.

At the mention of Ankaa, the steel in Delilah’s eyes vanishes as her gaze slips from her fathers. It falls to her drink, drowning in the dark golden depths and before she knows it she is downing half its contents again.

“That woman-… I-… She was-… Demona, twisted her, made her into something-… else. She made me fight her. It was the only time I ever-”

She can’t say it. She can’t admit her weakness.

It was the only time I ever begged her to stop.

“She should be dead. I don’t know how she is alive… But my mother is the cause.”

Kurtz refills the glass, knowing that sometimes a little liquid courage can help the release of such strong emotions, knowing that such a release can be cathartic in itself. “Death was never much of a barrier to your mother. And a mother always knows how to hurt their daughter, most choose to protect them instead. I would say that it is a deliberate and precise choice to do this to you now though, I don’t know what has changed, but this doesn’t strike me as a random act of cruelty.” Kurtz knocks back his drink while ordering his thoughts, “Whatever we do next, we must be aware that it’s possible your mother wants it to happen. She is no fool.”

“I don’t know what’s changed… except I have recently regained form after being under Lillibut’s curse. Could that be the reason?” Delilah asks, more to herself than Kurtz though he hears her without issue. She continues. “She knows I will hunt her down, especially after seeing Ankaa. She also knows you and I are together now.” The Pale Daughter looks to her father, a strange expression on her face. “Father, is there any way you can think of that she could use the bond of protection she placed on me against you?”

“To know your mother’s mind is to know madness — but it is ordered chaos. I do not know whether your return to the physical is connected to these new events, but that we have connected might be sufficient. Our combined might is not to be sniffed at, even for one as powerful as Demona.”

Kurtz moves almost as if to spit at her name in his mouth, but he catches himself and as he looks up the distaste on his face is clear.

“The bond of protection, the bond of love, I cannot see a manner in which she would manipulate this. As I see it now, she is a clear and present danger to you.”

Kurtz drinks a little and clears his throat.

“I guess at worst she could release that binding, and hope that my love for you vanishes with her foul magics. I hope… I hope that will not prove true.”

Even though she has only just been reunited with her father, it takes no great insight to see that her father does still want to love her when it is no longer compelled. However, there is still a part of her that doubts. That desire she sees could originate from the compulsion Demona cast upon Kurtz. He could not even know why he wants it to be true…

And yet, was her mother’s magic strong enough to fool the enchantment that had trapped Kurtz? That had forced him into luring her to him? That would have seen him kill the person he loved most… that person being her?

She doesn’t know.

Dark eyes study the scar over his left side of his face, feeling the memory, the ghost of her own scar that had once marred her beautiful, sharp face. No one could call what he just said a lie and that is the truth. Her father is just as confused by this all as she is, and that is the truth. Probably, and most importantly, the hatred Kurtz has towards Demona is in no way compelled.

And that is the truth.

Delilah takes another deep drink of gold wine. “If I were her, I’d find a way to sever the bond I’d placed on you to protect me. But I’d cut it at the most opportune time for me. Meaning,” her dark gaze lifts up to her father’s face but stops short of his eyes, “once we are in front of her, and when things are going our way. Having you leave in order to save yourself because you will, supposedly, no longer feel compelled to protect me…”

As her words trail off, her eyes rise up to find Kurtz’s. A torrent of emotions — hope, trepidation, hesitation, want, need, and more — writhe within their dark depths. It’s just a moment that she is silent but for the two, it feels like an age.

“A possibility to keep in mind,” Delilah finally says in a low, quiet voice. Then she drains the rest of her glass.

“Should we both survive, would you still wish to be free of the shadows?” she asks, pouring herself another.

He reaches out with one strong but wrinkled hand. Covering his daughters and attempting to comfort her.

“The shadows make me stronger. They tie me to you in many ways. But yes, offered the choice, I would return to my former self. My truer self. It has been almost a century since I have looked down and seen my emerald scales.” Kurtz looks wistfully across the bar, his gaze piercing into the past for just a few seconds. “But that is for the future. The strength and connection that this form grants me will serve us better in the fight to come.”

Shuffling closer so that he is on the edge of his seat, he lowers his voice just slightly. “Where do we begin? Do you think we could ask the Court to help?” He corrects himself. A wry grin appeared for just a moment at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps not me, do you think you could ask the court for help? Where to begin, whether they have seen or heard from her in the recent past?”

“That I can do, and will. A visit to Twilight is in order anyways since my return to form. Which, speaking of…”

The pale half-elf turns her hand underneath his so their hands are clasped together, palm to palm. With a slight frown, Delilah begins to concentrate. As she does, Kurtz feels her fingers extend into Draconic claws, and recognizes the shape and feel of scales rising up from under her skin. Her grip is cautious as she lifts their clasped hands, turning it over so as to better show off her altered form.

“One of the gifts my new body allows me to do.” Her words sound different. When he looks, Kurtz sees longer teeth, like fangs, and green scaled features that match her hand. They do more than hint at her inheritance from him. “I am like myself, yet not quite myself anymore. I have ties to the lower planes with this new body that makes me more akin to Deimos than before.” Delilah chuckles. “Oziah was thrilled, to say the least.”

A look of intrigue and amusement spreads across Kurtz’s face. It is replaced by a slight flinch and scowl as his daughter mentions being bound to the lower planes.

“I hope that tie is less problematic for you than it was for me. I do not know if I’ve expressed my thanks sufficiently for this.” His hand flicks to the contract. “This evening, I will depart and finish that chapter. Rid any further possibility that this is used against me. I’ll return soon, take up residence here until this is done.”

A slight colour fills his cheeks.

“And I will message daily to make sure everything is ok. Come find me when you’ve been to the court, in the meantime I imagine you would like to spend some time with that powerful knight of yours…”

She lets go of the self altering spell, holding her father’s gaze for a beat longer than would be comfortable for most.

“I don’t blame you for what happened in that dungeon. You were charmed, not in control of yourself.” Delilah hesitates. “But perhaps it reveals a truth that neither of us… have dared to give voice to.”

Her own cheeks colour briefly. Then Delilah realises she is still holding her father’s hand and lets go, though there is a reluctance.

“Be swift of wing, father. I’ll have news for you upon your return,” the Pale Daughter says, nodding as she moves to stand up.

Kurtz clears his throat, endearingly embarrassed by his daughter. Before standing and striding to the door, changing himself as he goes he turns back, a pale half elf with a mask across his face. A cheeky wink to his daughter as he steps into the night air.


Continued in ‘Quiet Nights’ 🗡️