Of Opium and Asphodel

IV. From Adamantine Chains

Cairn's wrists were bound. This would not normally be of concern, given that he worked in a brothel. Except he seemed to be chained in a dark cellar of sorts. Not great at setting the mood, whoever his captors were.

"You needn't have gone to such trouble," Cairn called into the gloom. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the shadows to reveal that he was in a large cistern. That explained the echo of his voice. He was bound against one wall on a slim stretch of stone before the floor gave way to a basin of water.

"You could have had me, for about the same cost but without the hassle of kidnap, if only you'd arranged it with the House. I've had plenty of clients rent me out for an evening. Or a weekend." He continued to talk. The echo helped demarcate where the walls ended, and he began to make a map of the cistern in his mind. The wall he was manacled to had several other chains, all hanging empty at regular intervals.

"Quiet, or I'll give you something to shout about," came a gruff snarl. The voice was familiar, and Cairn realized it was the drunk man from the brothel. But the man made no move to act on his threat of violence. He was waiting, Cairn realized. Someone must have instructed him to guard Cairn in the dungeon.

Good. He could use that. It meant the man wouldn't be a threat, as long as he awaited his master's return. After that--who knew. Cairn thought back to the message Euphrasie had conveyed, about keeping his bargains. Something clicked in his mind, and his heart sank as he realized who his guard was likely employed by.

He was still wearing the eye and lip paint, the silk robe and scant garments of the House of Asphodel. A stark contrast to the first time he'd presented to the Deathless One. He raised his chin. If he could distract this guard, he had a chance of escape.

Already, his hands worked at the manacles binding him. Slender fingers gliding across iron that was slick from the humidity of the cistern. He moved quickly and silently. One did not work in a brothel such as Asphodel without the knowledge of ropework, and how to free oneself from such bonds. As he worked, he began to speak, pouring his utmost charm into the words. He could feel the ache within him at this depletion of his energy, but continued anyway.

"If I knew you wanted me this badly, I'm sure we could have come to an agreement," Cairn said. "I saw how you looked at me, even if you were only pretending to be drunk."

"Lies," the guard hissed from the shadows. Cairn swung his head in that direction, where a crack beneath a door let a sliver of light escape. There it was. His way out. If only this guard would stop being so damned resistant to Cairn's enchantment.

"Your cock was straining in your pants," Cairn retorted. "You want me and you know it. You can have me, before your boss gets back. But only if you're quick. I'll let you have me any way you like--" He lowered his voice to a murmur, and the guard loosed a breath that was audible across the cistern. Cairn smiled, knowing his prey was hooked. His wrists slipped with ease from their now-unshackled bonds. 

But he could not reveal his upper hand. Not until he was closer to that door.

"Why don't you come closer?" He purred, a fisher baiting his hook. "I'll let you bend me over. Or I can be the one to do that to you, if you prefer. I can imagine how you'd feel, thrusting desperately against me. Lost in your desires, your pleasure. Let me give this to you. Come closer."

This time a shadow did emerge from between the columns by the doorway. He wore a dark robe with the hood down, so there could be no mistaking him for the violent man who'd been so drunkenly insistent with him at Asphodel. Cairn let a poisonously serpentine smile twist his mouth. Then just as abruptly, he reeled back as a gauntleted hand connected hard with his cheekbone. His head knocked against the slick stone against which he was chained.

The man drew back his fist. "The Deathless One warned us about you. You think he'd leave us defenseless against a Siren such as yourself?" He spit at Cairn's feet. "You just be glad I don't give you the beating you deserve for trying your enchantments on me, spellweaver." He snarled.

The door to the dungeon opened, and light fell across the steps leading down to the cistern and the wall of manacles. Before he could shield his eyes from the onslaught of light, an enormous beast bounded from the doorway towards him. Cairn caught a glimpse of white canines flashing in a dark maw, and a mass of ashen fur.

He cried out and threw himself against the wall, wondering if the beast would follow if he jumped into the well of the cistern.

"Back, Baelroth!" The demon lord called, voice cutting clear through the hellhound's baying.

Asmodeus.

Cairn righted himself, trying to stand. He glanced up and found himself looking into draconian yellow eyes, slit like a goat's and filled with far too much cunning and arrogance. Cairn's traitorous heart sped up.

The demon lord's uncanny gaze was fixed unflinchingly on Cairn's wrists, which bore the deep mottled red and purple marks of his shackles. "My, how distasteful. It seems I must apologize on behalf of my associate. What poor hospitality, and for such an honoured guest too." His eyes shifted to meet Cairn's.

Cairn's fingertips tingled with the nearness of him. The back of his neck, where the serpentine second spine twisted, twitched violently beneath his skin. He flinched, and Asmodeus smirked, clearly under the impression he had stared Cairn down. He lowered a gloved hand, offering it. "No person, man or demon, should be confined in chains." The demon lord said it so softly, so honestly that Cairn stared at him, trying to discern if he had heard correctly.

He had thought all demons heartless creatures, capable only of desolation. All things crumbled to ash at the touch of something so ancient, so unflinchingly primordial and dark. But here was one who had a stake in the liberty of men and monsters alike--or atleast, so he seemed to care.

Cairn accepted the offered hand, allowing a faint flush to colour his cheeks as he smiled almost bashfully at the demon lord. He knew the part to play if he was to escape. And it began and ended with gaining the trust of the Deathless One, the pitiless demon that stood before him. He was an excellent seductress, practiced at the dance of courtship. Whatever Asmodeus wanted from him, whatever his reasons for kidnapping him, Cairn would ensure that it was he the demon desired before long.

"Now you've freed me from my shackles, what will you do with me?" Cairn asked, cringing internally as he narrowed his eyes, letting a smile play over his lips.

"How overt," Asmodeus replied. Beside him, the huge hellhound Baelroth had taken a seat. His tail wagged contentedly, each thud sending ripples through the water in the cistern. Cairn tried to ignore the demon dog, but it was no easy feat. Especially considering he'd thought himself seconds from death ad bestias--by beast.

"Let me see." The demon lord considered. "I can't very well let you leave again, seeing as you proved yourself untrue to your word. You did promise to return to me in a fortnight. Now you owe me not one favour, but two--as is according to the demonic law of vows." He slit his gaze, smiling in a way that bared his over sharp incisors. "You wouldn't break your vow to a demon lord, a Prince of Hell, for a second time would you?--I thought not." He slid a gloved finger beneath Cairn's chin, tilting his face upward. The demon lord was nearly a head taller, and standing very close. "What will I do with you, little lark?" He hummed, considering.

Cairn was not sure he wanted to know what the demon lord would decide.