Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Summary: I HAD to write this. The muse demanded that our two beloved
uptight Warlord Princes get knocked on their asses by a Jaenelle-like male. It totally made my day to imagine their expressions. (Don’t take it too seriously.)
Saetan Daemon SaDiablo pushed aside a stack of books on one of the long blackwood tables in the Keep. Seated across from him was his beautiful, lethal son. His true heir, Daemon Sadi.
A young Warlord Prince stood in the archway to a small alcove in the Keep’s library. Witchlight glinted off light brown skin and wind-mussed dark brown hair. A man of one of the short-lived races.
He glanced around, spotted the two Black-Jeweled Warlord Princes seated across the room. Long strides carried him over to them, and without care, he plopped down on the edge of the table. “I’m here!”
Startled out of a relaxed lull, Saetan Daemon SaDiablo and Daemon Sadi stared at him.
After a moment of awkward silence, the youth said cheekily, “This the club meeting?”
“Excuse me?” Saetan said.
“You know, the club.” He pointed at the Black Jewel hanging around Saetan’s neck.
Suddenly, the room smelled dangerous. “No,” Saetan stated softly, “I am afraid we do not know the club.”
The young man looked surprised. He hesitated briefly before calling in a Jewelled necklace. A Black-Jewel, set in gold.
Shocked silence. Daemon, who had been on quiet alert, made a small noise in the back of this throat. Saetan stared at the Jewel, very still, before lifting his gaze to blue eyes.
The cheer gone, there was only uncertainty in those eyes now. “You… didn’t call me?” The dark-haired youth took in their expressions. “I’m guessing not.”
Daemon’s nostrils flared slightly. “Who are you?” he almost crooned, uncoiling from his chair, but the young man had slid off the table and out of his reach.
A silibant voice stopped them all.
“I ssummoned you.” Draca approached, arms tucked in the sleeves of her robe.
The young man spun around with a relieved laugh. “Draca!” He joined her, hesitation replaced with a new twinkle in his eyes. “An invitation from the Queen of the Dragons? How can a male resist that?”
Draca inclined her head briefly. “Prince Adrian, your abssence hass been noted.”
“Lorn?” Adrian glanced at Saetan and Daemon, both of whom stood in deference to the Seneschal’s presence and now looked as if they wished to be sitting again. “In case you don’t know, Lorn is a grumpy old dragon who lives in the bottom of the Keep.”
Saetan cleared his throat. “You have met Lorn?”
“Who hasn’t?” the young man grumbled. He threw an arm around the Seneschal’s shoulders as if he did it regularly.
“He iss annoyed with you,” Draca reminded Adrian.
“Did he tell you why?” Adrian turned to his captivated audience. “I explained to Lorn that any male—even an ancient one—shouldn’t sleep all day. I told him, ‘Hell’s fire, Lorn, you must be dusty by now! Don’t know how you keep your Lady. Show some fire!’ ” He paused. Looked over at Draca.
Draca’s face did not change, but her black eyes gleamed. “And did he?” she asked calmly.
Adrian snorted. “Scorched my trousers.”
“Mother Night,” Saetan muttered. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. A quick look at Daemon showed his son fared no better.
Draca made a small sound, barely a laugh. In all his years, Saetan had so rarely witnessed an emotion from the Seneschal. She caught his eye. “Perhapss the introductionss are besst finisshed in private. I will arrange for refresshmentss.”
Even if Saetan had never heard a cue in his life, he couldn’t have missed that one. With a nod to Draca, he brushed a hand over Daemon’s shoulder. “Follow me, gentlemen.”
The three males settled in Saetan’s private study within the Keep. A pot of coffee, bottle of yarbarah, and a plate piled with sandwiches appeared shortly. Daemon took one look at the coffee and called in a decanter of brandy. He poured a generous amount into two snifters and handed one to his father. Adrian seemed oblivious to everything but the food, which he attacked with gusto.
Saetan took a moment to gather his wits and relax. He had no doubt this mood would be short-lived. “Since you appear to know who we are, I’ll start with a simple question. Where are you from, Prince?”
Adrian made a muffled snort. “I thought you said we’d start simple?” He took a moment to stack another sandwich on his plate. “I don’t know where I come from, but I can tell you where I have been.” He looked up, and Saetan nodded.
“No parents. I barely remember the first orphanage. I think it was in a small district outside of Dharo. When I was five, I was taken to a new orphanage in Dharo itself. Then after my Birthright ceremony, to a different one in Dhelman. I stayed there for, oh, three years maybe? Enough time to practice some Craft. There wasn’t demand, you see,” his tone only slightly bitter, “for a boy like me. I was shuffled around a few more times—until I was fourteen. I ran away.” He paused. “After that, things get a little messy.”
Saetan watched the young man took a huge bite of his sandwich, and said nothing. After a few moments, Adrian glanced around the room and then at the two silent men. He shrugged. “I’ve spent a lot of time in and out of this place. The Keep is more home than most.”
Daemon sipped his brandy, taking the bait. “Draca does not mind?”
“Are you kidding me? No! Lorn’s the prickly one. I’m surprised he has not tossed me out. The last time he was really annoyed, he threatened to use me as a toothpick.”
Saetan choked. “Lorn said what?”
“Oh, one just has to know where to apply the pressure.” The boy gave them a wicked grin. “Lorn does like me. Most of the time.”
Then Adrian said in a quite serious voice, “Now, the Keep’s cook—do you know her?—she really wants to kick me out. Says I eat too much for a normal boy. Which, by the way,” he turned to Daemon, “I hear you have an excellent cook at SaDiablo Hall.”
“Ah. Mrs. Beale, yes.” Daemon’s shoulders twitched.
“I am officially inviting myself over for dinner.”
Daemon nodded. “And I believe you should meet my Lady, Jaenelle Angelline.”
Adrian’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! You’re married to Nell.”
Saetan caught Daemon’s glass before it tipped down the front of Daemon’s jacket.
Clearing his throat, Saetan responded with caution, “You know Jaenelle too?”
A quick nod. “I saw her a few months ago, when she was still Healing.”
The air chilled. Daemon’s eyes looked a bit sleepy as he made a slow, lazy shift of posture in his chair. “I do not recall your visit.”
Adrian found a sudden interest in the bits of sandwich left on his plate. “Uh, I… snuck in.”
“Did you?” Daemon asked too softly.
Adrian looked embarrassed. “If it’s any consolation, Kaelas caught me. And it took a long time to convince him not to eat me.”
Daemon raised an eyebrow and said, “How did you manage that?”
The boy squirmed and muttered, “I’d rather not talk about it.”
- A Side-Note to The Confession – from May 21, 2010
- Comparing Brothers: Why I Prefer Lucivar to Daemon – from February 25, 2014
- Interesting!! – from April 2, 2012
- blackjewelsfics – from March 20, 2012
- A BJT Drabble – from May 12, 2010