on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37724971 this ended up heavier on the tentacles and light on the lush decadent setting, but hopefully you still enjoy!
----
Each of the cities from the coast have sent their offerings - their sacrifices, rather, because that is what it is, sending pretty young things into the jaws of the beast in the hope their city shall be spared the monster’s wrath.
Mostly, it’s young women in fine dresses, who look varyingly frightened and resigned to their fate. The girl from Tussoa has finally stopped crying, although the lines still show in her makeup; the man from Othe is still fidgeting, constantly, and not even in a useful way, as if he might be trying to run.
It’s the two tieflings who aren’t scared, he finds. The one from Feolinn lounges back against his chair, as if he doesn’t care. Not from Feolinn, certainly - a traveler or an outsider who they took as their own offering, rather than spare anyone actually important the role. The one from Nicodranas, she is angry. Holding it back, but he can see it, bubbling up from the surface.
He wonders if she’ll try something. It would be easy to hide a dagger, in that dress, although he imagines it would have to be a strong poison on the blade to actually hurt the Exarch, if even that.
No offering from Brokenbank, of course. No one is sure what the number or strength of the survivors is, but they have already made what deals they can and will, with the Leviathan.
The doors push open, and the Exarch pushes his way through, followed by a party of cultists and sea monsters. Half-orc, fine leather armor encrusted with barnacles, piercing yellow eyes gazing out at the whole group.
“I am the voice of the Great Leviathan, tremble at the might of Uk’otoa,” he calls out, looking around at those gathered dignitaries who stand in the back behind their sacrifices. “The waters rise; offer to him your loyalty and you may be spared his wrath.”
The voice echoes throughout the chamber - magically altered, surely - and the appropriate fear response is given. Various voices babble out concessions; rebuilding and restoring temples, offering tithes of goods, and the Exarch just steps back and smirks, at the frantic bargaining.
“Offerings, to the Leviathan,” one of the cultists says, “be named, and of who has sent you to our master.”
Only the sacrifice from Gwardan gives her own name - the rest are spoken for by those offering them up. It is “Mollymauk Tealeaf, of Feolinn” - and he was right, not a name tied to the Marquis or any ruling merchants - and it is “From Nicodranas, the daughter to the Ruby of the Sea.”
The whole room reacts at that name, and said daughter clenches her fists tighter.
And then, eyes are on him, as he sits stoically. “From the Dwendalian Empire, as representative of Icehaven, Caleb Widogast,” the voice of his own watcher declares.
The Exarch grins; no sacrifices had been demanded, of other nations, only the Coast where once Uk’otoa had ruled. This is an unexpected surprise, that the Empire already feared the Leviathan’s might.
He was not from Icehaven, of course, but it wasn’t as if anyone could tell the difference, in Zemni accents. That he was from the Empire - that was enough.
“The Great Leviathan accepts your offerings; every soul, in the cities pledged, belongs to Uk’otoa. Do not forget this.” The Exarch steps forward. “You, three, I choose to return with me - Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caleb Widogast, and the Ruby’s daughter.”
He stands - the other two are pushed forward out of their seats. The choice could be pure aesthetic, but more likely, he thinks, it is that they three were unafraid. A few reasons, why that might be preferred.
They are caught up, then, in a swirl of water, manifest from nowhere - and when it subsides, they do not stand in the chamber anymore, instead on the top of a tower, obsidian black, ocean stretched out around them as far as could be seen.
“Welcome to the Grand Temple of Uk’otoa,” the Exarch declares. “You’re free to move about the tower, although the majority is - not meant for those who can’t breathe water. Please don’t try to escape - there isn’t much out here; it won’t end well for you.”
“What are we here for, exactly?” Tealeaf asks, as the Exarch leads them down into the tower. “They didn’t exactly explain anything to me beyond ‘shut up and look pretty’. I was starting to get the impression we were all going to be eaten, or something.”
“Oh - no. You’re my reward,” he says. “For releasing Uk’otoa from the seals. You’ll be bound to me - married, I guess, although there’s also some magic stuff going on.”
Marriage is a - nicer way of putting it, certainly. Hard to say, for who’s sake it was - or if it was what the Exarch genuinely thought.
“If we’re going to be married-” the girl from Nicodranas, the Ruby’s daughter starts, “would you kill someone for me?”
That is not what he had expected her to say - or what the Exarch had expected, clear from the look on his face.
“Lord Sharpe - he’s the one who made the offering - he wanted me dead, because I kind of humiliated him for being an asshole to my momma; and he was going to- they sent me because they wanted to keep my momma - I just-”
“Yeah, sure,” the Exarch says. “Do you - care about how? I could probably bring him here if you wanted to do it yourself. Also, sorry - what’s your name? They didn’t actually say-”
“Jester.” The anger isn’t completely gone, although she seems a bit more shocked, now.
“I’m Fjord. I’ve never been real big on titles, so you can just call me that. Either of you want anyone dead, while we’re at it?”
“Not really?” Tealeaf says. “I mean, there’s some folks I owe money to, but I doubt they’ll make it all the way out here.
“I will let you know,” Caleb says.
“I’ll show you to the rooms first, then go deal with him.” They head down a few more floors, and then Fjord opens a door into a large lounge.
It’s decadent, in a very Marquesian or Concordian way; covered in cushions, pillows, blankets and silk, golden and jeweled decorations shimmering all around.
“There’s four bedrooms, take your pick, all connected to a hot bath,” he explains. “When you want food, knock on a table, out here or in the rooms, and ask, it should magically appear. I haven’t found a limit yet, but I don’t know how well it works on Zemnian foods.”
“Are there any rules we must follow?” Caleb asks, looking around.
“Not really?” Fjord says. “I guess - don’t try to escape? Not that it really matters; tracking you down will be easy.” He shrugs. “Lorde Sharpe, Nicodranas, was at the meeting?”
“Don’t - drown the city, or anything,” Jester says. “My momma’s still there-”
“I was just going to chop his head off,” Fjord says, summoning a sword to his hand. “Shouldn’t take long, feel free to get settled in.”
He teleports away again, a gathering of water and shadows, and they’re left alone in the room.
“That really wasn’t what I expected,” Tealeaf says. “Was it what you expected?”
“No,” Caleb tells him. “Are you going to try and escape?”
“Me? Fuck no, I can barely swim, no way I make it back to shore. Why, were you planning something?”
“Trying to figure out whether you would.”
“Like he said, there’s nowhere in Exandria we could go,” Jester says. “I’m going to go see which of the beds is the best.”
“And I’m going to get something to eat - Feolinn prison food sucks, in case you were curious.”
“Not related to the Marquis, then?” he asks.
“Nope! Just some carnie thief passing through they thought wouldn’t be missed. Probably right.” He shrugs, collapsing into the pile of cushions by the table. “You’re not the Starosta’s kid either, I’m guessing.”
“Not exactly.” he sits down as well. He asks the tower for dumplings - they do not taste like home, but nothing ever does.
It isn’t long before Jester returns to join them, declaring which room is hers. He doesn’t ask what her stance on escape is - her first action had been to ask the Exarch to kill someone for her; she knew where she stood.
Instead, they devolve into betting - with what as their bargain not yet decided - on exactly how the next few days will play out. Mollymauk thinks the ritual will be as soon as Fjord returns, Jester thinks he will wait a few days as some kind of courtship. Caleb thinks they will be separate - Molly agrees, but thinks the others will be present - and Jester thinks it will happen all at once. They’re unanimous that it will involve sex, at least.
“That’s why they were talking about momma,” Jester says. “You know, the Ruby of the Sea is the best lay ever.” She hums it out, somewhat half-heartedly.
“Yeah, got the impression they thought I was a whore, too,” Molly adds. “It would probably be better if I was, used to fucking people I didn’t care for - at least you have that.”
“I haven’t actually fucked anyone, before,” she admits. “Momma kind of kept me hidden away from - well, everyone. I didn’t get to go out, much.” She wraps her arms around her knee.
“How about you, Mister Caleb?” Molly says, turning his way. “Or am I left alone with virgins, the only one able to fuck the evil warlock and save the world from drowning?”
“He may prefer virgins,” Caleb tells him. “But no, I have - had, partners.” One of many reasons he’d been chosen - he had trained for this, after all.
“What do you think is going to happen,” Jester murmurs, “if we’re not good enough?”
“Given that he’s off killing someone for you,” Molly says, “probably just keep us around until we get better. I doubt we’re getting out of here anytime soon. Or ever.”
Fill: rites of conquest (Fjord/Caleb/Jester/Molly, dub/noncon, arranged marriage, tentacle sex) 1/2
this ended up heavier on the tentacles and light on the lush decadent setting, but hopefully you still enjoy!
----
Each of the cities from the coast have sent their offerings - their sacrifices, rather, because that is what it is, sending pretty young things into the jaws of the beast in the hope their city shall be spared the monster’s wrath.
Mostly, it’s young women in fine dresses, who look varyingly frightened and resigned to their fate. The girl from Tussoa has finally stopped crying, although the lines still show in her makeup; the man from Othe is still fidgeting, constantly, and not even in a useful way, as if he might be trying to run.
It’s the two tieflings who aren’t scared, he finds. The one from Feolinn lounges back against his chair, as if he doesn’t care. Not from Feolinn, certainly - a traveler or an outsider who they took as their own offering, rather than spare anyone actually important the role. The one from Nicodranas, she is angry. Holding it back, but he can see it, bubbling up from the surface.
He wonders if she’ll try something. It would be easy to hide a dagger, in that dress, although he imagines it would have to be a strong poison on the blade to actually hurt the Exarch, if even that.
No offering from Brokenbank, of course. No one is sure what the number or strength of the survivors is, but they have already made what deals they can and will, with the Leviathan.
The doors push open, and the Exarch pushes his way through, followed by a party of cultists and sea monsters. Half-orc, fine leather armor encrusted with barnacles, piercing yellow eyes gazing out at the whole group.
“I am the voice of the Great Leviathan, tremble at the might of Uk’otoa,” he calls out, looking around at those gathered dignitaries who stand in the back behind their sacrifices. “The waters rise; offer to him your loyalty and you may be spared his wrath.”
The voice echoes throughout the chamber - magically altered, surely - and the appropriate fear response is given. Various voices babble out concessions; rebuilding and restoring temples, offering tithes of goods, and the Exarch just steps back and smirks, at the frantic bargaining.
“Offerings, to the Leviathan,” one of the cultists says, “be named, and of who has sent you to our master.”
Only the sacrifice from Gwardan gives her own name - the rest are spoken for by those offering them up. It is “Mollymauk Tealeaf, of Feolinn” - and he was right, not a name tied to the Marquis or any ruling merchants - and it is “From Nicodranas, the daughter to the Ruby of the Sea.”
The whole room reacts at that name, and said daughter clenches her fists tighter.
And then, eyes are on him, as he sits stoically. “From the Dwendalian Empire, as representative of Icehaven, Caleb Widogast,” the voice of his own watcher declares.
The Exarch grins; no sacrifices had been demanded, of other nations, only the Coast where once Uk’otoa had ruled. This is an unexpected surprise, that the Empire already feared the Leviathan’s might.
He was not from Icehaven, of course, but it wasn’t as if anyone could tell the difference, in Zemni accents. That he was from the Empire - that was enough.
“The Great Leviathan accepts your offerings; every soul, in the cities pledged, belongs to Uk’otoa. Do not forget this.” The Exarch steps forward. “You, three, I choose to return with me - Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caleb Widogast, and the Ruby’s daughter.”
He stands - the other two are pushed forward out of their seats. The choice could be pure aesthetic, but more likely, he thinks, it is that they three were unafraid. A few reasons, why that might be preferred.
They are caught up, then, in a swirl of water, manifest from nowhere - and when it subsides, they do not stand in the chamber anymore, instead on the top of a tower, obsidian black, ocean stretched out around them as far as could be seen.
“Welcome to the Grand Temple of Uk’otoa,” the Exarch declares. “You’re free to move about the tower, although the majority is - not meant for those who can’t breathe water. Please don’t try to escape - there isn’t much out here; it won’t end well for you.”
“What are we here for, exactly?” Tealeaf asks, as the Exarch leads them down into the tower. “They didn’t exactly explain anything to me beyond ‘shut up and look pretty’. I was starting to get the impression we were all going to be eaten, or something.”
“Oh - no. You’re my reward,” he says. “For releasing Uk’otoa from the seals. You’ll be bound to me - married, I guess, although there’s also some magic stuff going on.”
Marriage is a - nicer way of putting it, certainly. Hard to say, for who’s sake it was - or if it was what the Exarch genuinely thought.
“If we’re going to be married-” the girl from Nicodranas, the Ruby’s daughter starts, “would you kill someone for me?”
That is not what he had expected her to say - or what the Exarch had expected, clear from the look on his face.
“Lord Sharpe - he’s the one who made the offering - he wanted me dead, because I kind of humiliated him for being an asshole to my momma; and he was going to- they sent me because they wanted to keep my momma - I just-”
“Yeah, sure,” the Exarch says. “Do you - care about how? I could probably bring him here if you wanted to do it yourself. Also, sorry - what’s your name? They didn’t actually say-”
“Jester.” The anger isn’t completely gone, although she seems a bit more shocked, now.
“I’m Fjord. I’ve never been real big on titles, so you can just call me that. Either of you want anyone dead, while we’re at it?”
“Not really?” Tealeaf says. “I mean, there’s some folks I owe money to, but I doubt they’ll make it all the way out here.
“I will let you know,” Caleb says.
“I’ll show you to the rooms first, then go deal with him.” They head down a few more floors, and then Fjord opens a door into a large lounge.
It’s decadent, in a very Marquesian or Concordian way; covered in cushions, pillows, blankets and silk, golden and jeweled decorations shimmering all around.
“There’s four bedrooms, take your pick, all connected to a hot bath,” he explains. “When you want food, knock on a table, out here or in the rooms, and ask, it should magically appear. I haven’t found a limit yet, but I don’t know how well it works on Zemnian foods.”
“Are there any rules we must follow?” Caleb asks, looking around.
“Not really?” Fjord says. “I guess - don’t try to escape? Not that it really matters; tracking you down will be easy.” He shrugs. “Lorde Sharpe, Nicodranas, was at the meeting?”
“Don’t - drown the city, or anything,” Jester says. “My momma’s still there-”
“I was just going to chop his head off,” Fjord says, summoning a sword to his hand. “Shouldn’t take long, feel free to get settled in.”
He teleports away again, a gathering of water and shadows, and they’re left alone in the room.
“That really wasn’t what I expected,” Tealeaf says. “Was it what you expected?”
“No,” Caleb tells him. “Are you going to try and escape?”
“Me? Fuck no, I can barely swim, no way I make it back to shore. Why, were you planning something?”
“Trying to figure out whether you would.”
“Like he said, there’s nowhere in Exandria we could go,” Jester says. “I’m going to go see which of the beds is the best.”
“And I’m going to get something to eat - Feolinn prison food sucks, in case you were curious.”
“Not related to the Marquis, then?” he asks.
“Nope! Just some carnie thief passing through they thought wouldn’t be missed. Probably right.” He shrugs, collapsing into the pile of cushions by the table. “You’re not the Starosta’s kid either, I’m guessing.”
“Not exactly.” he sits down as well. He asks the tower for dumplings - they do not taste like home, but nothing ever does.
It isn’t long before Jester returns to join them, declaring which room is hers. He doesn’t ask what her stance on escape is - her first action had been to ask the Exarch to kill someone for her; she knew where she stood.
Instead, they devolve into betting - with what as their bargain not yet decided - on exactly how the next few days will play out. Mollymauk thinks the ritual will be as soon as Fjord returns, Jester thinks he will wait a few days as some kind of courtship. Caleb thinks they will be separate - Molly agrees, but thinks the others will be present - and Jester thinks it will happen all at once. They’re unanimous that it will involve sex, at least.
“That’s why they were talking about momma,” Jester says. “You know, the Ruby of the Sea is the best lay ever.” She hums it out, somewhat half-heartedly.
“Yeah, got the impression they thought I was a whore, too,” Molly adds. “It would probably be better if I was, used to fucking people I didn’t care for - at least you have that.”
“I haven’t actually fucked anyone, before,” she admits. “Momma kind of kept me hidden away from - well, everyone. I didn’t get to go out, much.” She wraps her arms around her knee.
“How about you, Mister Caleb?” Molly says, turning his way. “Or am I left alone with virgins, the only one able to fuck the evil warlock and save the world from drowning?”
“He may prefer virgins,” Caleb tells him. “But no, I have - had, partners.” One of many reasons he’d been chosen - he had trained for this, after all.
“What do you think is going to happen,” Jester murmurs, “if we’re not good enough?”
“Given that he’s off killing someone for you,” Molly says, “probably just keep us around until we get better. I doubt we’re getting out of here anytime soon. Or ever.”