onewhoturns

A/N Oct 2018: Idk why I love writing the creepiness of loss of agency, but I do. (Actually, I have theorized on this and may actually have some ideas why, but it doesn’t cover it all.) So here’s the aftermath of faerie fruit. Elsewhere: AO3, FFnet, ko-fi preview.

Story Title: Iron & Gold
Chapter Title: The Usurper
Chapter Part: 3/3
Story Part: 11/?
Pairing: Emily/Outsider (emsider)
Word count: 885
Rating: T maybe M
Summary: Ever since she was a child Emily had been cautioned: beware the fae. She’d heard the typical warnings – faerie rings, wishing wells, mysterious lights in the darkness. But they were just cautionary tales... [A Dishonored fae AU]
start here (prelude), previously (3-2), next part (4-1)

There was no reason to suspect the stories to be false, but she didn’t realize just how true they would be. The flavor coated her tongue and slipped down her throat and made her mouth water for more immediately. Nothing could compare. The most perfectly ripened apple, peach, plum - any berry, any fruit at all - any anything paled in comparison. Warmth radiated through her, all her sickness forgotten, and pure shimmering joy - lazy sunny summer afternoons and autumn nights hearthside - sank deep into her bones. It was captivating. Absolutely enchanting--

The thought made her lurch with a stifled giggle. Because she was. Enchanted, that was. And it was positively fantastic.

Gradually her whole body loosened, relaxing, and the hands closing her mouth and nose pulled away. Emily’s eyes felt heavy, covered in stardust, as she watched the beautiful faerie who’d been so kind and caring and was so lovely to look at-

Dimly she recognized hands releasing her, and she let out a small sound of disappointment. She liked when they touched her. It made her skin so comfy and warm. Why did they let go?

She pouted, but quickly reached for the faerie, her disappointment fading as soon as it had come - there was no room for anything but joy in her - as she pressed fingers against the woman’s too-beautiful face, a soft awe dawning on her. And her hands-

Her own hands grabbed for the faerie’s, eyes catching on the golden stains on her fingers and palm. She sucked at the empty hand, seeking nectar hungrily, as the faerie’s clean fingers cupped Emily’s own face with a smile that shined with grace and mercy and-

“They’re always so pretty like this.”

She was calling Emily pretty? Emily had to smile in response. How kind. How nice.

“So compliant.”

Emily leaned into the touch, nuzzling against the hand on her cheek, tongue lapping at the last traces of faerie fruit on the fingers she’d greedily taken into her mouth.

“And so eager to please.” Fingers tucked bedraggled hair behind the former-queen’s ears as the faerie smiled. “Such a good girl.” Even once her hand was clean of any hint of fruit, the faerie ran her finger up Emily’s neck, gathering the juice that had spilled down her chin, and Emily was grateful for it. It would’ve been such a shame to leave it there. Such a waste.

“Emily.”

Glazed eyes looked up as the faerie moved to Emily’s side, petting her hair lovingly, and she watched the woman on the steps. Everyone here was so pretty. Not the same as the lovely fae who’s hand felt so good stroking her head, but still beautiful. Like a statue.

“Kneel.”

It was so simple, so easy to obey. It felt good to obey. She sank to her knees immediately, sad to feel the faerie’s hand draw away. A flash of gold on the floor caught her eye, and she reached for it.

“Stay.”

She froze, looking to the woman with the smallest touch of worry. Emily didn’t want to disappoint her.

The curl of the woman’s lip was hauntingly beautiful - steel on stone beautiful - as she took two leisurely steps forward, placing a hand on top of Emily’s head. Iron claws dug into Emily’s skin, but she didn’t mind it. The woman’s eyes - Delilah, she remembered, though she wasn’t sure how she knew - were bright and hungry. She flinched as the grip tightened, but she didn’t know why.

“Oh this is good. This is very good. I could get used to this.”

As she spoke she dragged Emily’s head side to side, and Emily’s brow furrowed in innocent confusion.

The voice was low, seemingly filled with wonder at the power in her hands. “You sweet child. You poor girl-- you love it.” Delilah shook her head, but the pitying look was lessened by the grin on her lips.

Emily hesitantly smiled up at her, unsure what the correct response was. Delilah laughed. The sound felt like knives, but it made Emily happy.

“Would you like more?” She gestured at the spilled fruit, but her grip tightened when Emily went to grab it, stopping her. “Words.”

“Yes.”

“You’re addressing a queen, Emily. How do we address royalty?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Please.”

Emily could taste the satisfaction radiating off of this queen. Even as stony blue eyes stared lovely painful daggers into her, the woman addressed the room in an authoritative but calm, even tone. “Stick her in the laundry closet when you’re done with her. I need her alive just a bit longer.”

Emily couldn’t understand the words, couldn’t grasp their meaning. She gazed up at the queen with wide, adoring, bewildered eyes.

The next words were addressed to her. “Go on, pet. Eat. Enjoy yourself.”

Excitedly, Emily lunged for the nearest slice, only to be pulled up short, the grip on her hair still too tight, yanking her back, hurting her -- no, not hurting. Nothing hurt. It was fine. It was good.

“Manners.”

She was confused. It took her a moment to realize the lovely creature before her wasn’t fae. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

A contented sigh issued from the woman’s lips. The words were murmured to the air as she released Emily’s hair with a slight push, knocking her off balance: “That never gets old.”