The gift is taken from the hiding place and brought to some public area in the centre of Dezzavold. This part of the city had a strange air of fear. She could sense it in her abductors and it made her wonder what the Drey would actually be like. The sense of sudden violence and uneasy truce was almost palpable.
She was presented to her new owner in spidersilk facsimile of a Gwaithor maiden’s wedding gown. A huge crowd, predominantly of Drow and Drey females stood around. She was paraded before them, looking suitably distraught. She found it quite easy to cry under the circumstances. Having done the rounds of the crowd, she was brought before the new queen, the Black Heart of Narreleth.
The tall and more than slightly butch looking Drey was surrounded by her lieutenants, who Forgileill knew were referred to as daggers, after their goddess’ symbol of a black heart pierced by eight daggers.
One of these, with cropped hair and a dispassionate expression on her face, stepped forward. The murmuring of the crowd lessened. Casually, she struck the surface elf a stinging backhand blow that stun her around and knocked her off her feet. She cried out in shock and pain, she couldn’t help herself. The crowd gave a low murmur of approval.
The business like Drey, the “first dagger”, gave the girl a laconic kick in the ribs as she lay sprawled. The shock of the blow made her cry out again. Again the crowd became a little more vocal in its pleasure at seeing the princess of their implacable foe brought low.
Her tormentor stood over her. At a nod from the queen, she reached down and seized her hair. She screamed in alarm and pain as the Drey warrior, who was a clear head taller than she was (and obviously very strong), pulled her up to her feet. The screaming didn’t stop as long as the first dagger had her on tip toes by her hair. The crowd’s mood continued to evolve. Even whilst she cried and struggled against her tormentor, the girl guessed that some of the drow were amplifying her discomfort and anguish to the crowd, their usual form of entertainment. Apparently she was providing good entertainment.
There seemed to be some kind of feedback involved. She could feel their appetite for her pain increase as she suffered. She could feel the hatred of eons that had been bred into this evil race being channelled into their reaction to her. The crowd wanted her to suffer, to be torn apart and be made whole only to be torn apart again. They wanted her to be in pain, they wanted more anguish, more fear. Wracking sobs made her whole body shudder as she suffered visibly as the waves of ill feeling washed through her, making her afraid and sick.
Her nausea, fear and pain were showing on her face, she knew. But she could not help it. Whatever the ithilild have done to her brain, she had lost an important part of herself, for the moment at least. She was fully aware that what she had been showing since the treatment was petulance and wide eyed fright. The part of her that retained control felt as if it were somehow a passenger, watching the hyperventilating little girl being abused. She could feel the pain and it wracked her body. She could take control again whenever she wanted. But not now. Not yet, angry as she was becoming, it was still too soon. Let them accept her as their toy. Once she had fulfilled the priestess of Lolth’s geas to murder the Black Heart, then she would free to make her escape.
The first dagger seized the neckline of the imitation gown. With ease, she ripped the garment open, allowing it to hang on Forgileill for just long enough to titillate the audience. The gown was then torn off of her. The shift she wore underneath was rent as she was turned to face the crowd. Tears streamed down her face as the first dagger tipped her chin up, showing her face to everyone with one hand and stripped her clothing and dignity away with the other. It was an act designed to cause shame, so she blushed and cried.
The crowd were now cheering and jeering. Two more Drey stepped forward and placed simple leather collars, set with steel rings, on her wrists and ankles. The first dagger shoved her around again to face the queen. The queen appeared to be quite pleased with her gift. And perhaps also that the public humiliation of someone would unite her fractured city with so little effort on her part.
The first dagger forced Forgileill to her knees. With some ceremony, a metal collar was brought out by a wizened crone and fastened around her neck. The crowd seemed satisfied.
The first dagger struck the helpless Forgileill a blow to the back of the head. She fell forward at the Queen’s feet unconscious. The Black Heart peered briefly down and then gave a slight wave of her hand.
Members of ‘the hundred’, the Black heart’s bodyguard came forward and seized her ankles. Her shame complete, Forgileill was then dragged away, her inert body bashing the ground as she was dragged, whilst other gifts from the World Above were presented to the queen.