Lillithienne

NOTE: this is my countless attempt at writing this story. . .I do not own Warhammer or any of the chars in it.


Never drink Bloody Marys and play with paints at the same time; the chemicals could get to your head.

My name is Lilly. I am a gamer, the only female one in my city. I’m short, blonde, blue eyes that are weirdly shaped and I swear I have pointed ears.

Mother does, too. . .Speaking of which, she, Papa and Ariella left for Philly, yet again without me. Well. So much for loving family.

At least there’s Warhammer. I play all the elven races and am quite good with them. I wasn’t swhatwhat drew me to them in the first place.

I was doing said experiment because I was thirsty and bored. I still had a Blackguard Champion to paint, as well as Eltharion.

I yawn and put my head on the table. “I’ll finish up later. . .I need a nap. . .”

~~~

Sometime later, I wake up on something cold and soft. “Damn. . .was I sleepwalking again?”

I stand up. Whay doesn’t my head hurt like it usually does after I stay up drinking?

I look around and see nothing but trees. Trees everywhere. “This is so not Virginia Beach.”

Soemthing tiny and sharp catches me in the back of my neck. I reach back and find something sticking out. A dart. I feel whoozy and slump to the forest floor.

***
I come to sometime later in prison cell. There is someone in the cell with me. He is tall, blonde and has greenish-blue eyes. I swear his ears are pointed. He kicks me in the side. “Siara, risiliemon ga!”

“What the fuck?!”

The elf yanks me roughly to my feet. “You are an elf but don’t speak the language?!”

“I’m no elf!” The male elf smacks me across the face. I backhand him. “Don’t you EVER touch me like that!”

The elf, a very pissed off look on his face, sweeps his cloak aside, revealing a longsword. He pulls it out and puts the tip to my neck. “You are upsetting me. . .”

“Fuck off.” I grab the closest thing to me---a metal pole--- and charge him with it.He grabs me by the wrist and uses my momentum to slam me into the wall. I drop the pole, stunned. He pins me across the chest to the wall and slips the sword into me at my navel.

I gasp in pain; he whispers in my face: “Do not talk back to me or anyone else here, slave. If you do, I will not hesitate to cut open your throat.”

He gently lowers me to the ground, rips the sword violently out of my abdomen and the last thing I hear is “Meyodica!”

***

I wake up to a slim, tiny hand on my neck. “She is awake, lord.”

“Good. Leave us, nurse.” A more masculine hand runs through my mid-back length blond hair.

“. . .leggo. . .” The hand clenches and yanks, forcing my head back. “. . .hey!”

“You are a slave now. MY slave. You do ANYTHING I want you to do now. I caught you fair and square, so. . .”

“. . .so what?! I’m no slave and I will NOT be forced to do what I don’t want. Let go of me.”

I plant a foot in the elf’s chest and push; surprised, he releases my hair and goes flying back into the corner. He’s REALLY pissed off now: he charges me with a shout.

He gets halfway there when all of a sudden, he just stops. In mid air. The look on his face is absolutely priceless as he floats backwards towards the door.

Another male elf walks in. He has sandy brown hair streaked with grey and walks wih the grace of a panther. The thing I notice most about him is that he is BLIND. He has a blue ribbon over his eyes. I see scars on his cheeks.

“Sialivan, is that any way to treat our guest?” he asks cordially in English. He has his hand up in a peaceful gesture.

“Milord Eltharion, illa mey arataci---!” It sounds like Italian, but it isn’t.

“You attacked her first.” The elf named Eltharion responds in English. He extends a hand towards me. I accept it and he pulls me to my feet. “And your name is. . .?”

“. . .Lilly.”

“Ah, like the flowers in the valley! So soft and pure.”

I blush. Either he’s being extremely polite or he’s coming on to me. He continues. “The mages will see you shortly; they have many questions. From now until I deem nessecary, Sialivan is your bodyguard. If he lays a negative finger on you, I will find out and take appropriate action and vice versa. There is a change of clothes on the chair over there.” He points—unerringly—to the said chair, smiles, then leaves.

I am utterly astonished. Why on earth would an apparently high up there elf entrust the life of a ‘guest’ to an elf that had just tried to kill her?

“You’d better get dressed. . . “ Sialivan folds his arms and glares at me. “The mages are particular about dress codes.” He points to the chair.

I glare pointedly at the elf, then at the door. He stares back and finally sighs. “Females.” The he leaves the room.

I remove my shirt and look at the garment that was left for me. “Wow. You won’t find any of this material. . .not even on the black market.” The robe is based white with a dark, almost night, blue hem that fades to white about the waist. It is hand embroidered with gold elven characters that seem to flow beautifully with the colors. I pull it on and bind it with the red sash that was also left, then walk out the door.

Sialivan looks me over and reaches for the sash knot. “You knotted this the wrong way.”

At first I was about to pop him for reaching where he shouldn’t have been, but then I realize that he’s just trying to help. He redoes to the knot and leads me down the hallway.