D&D Writing Challenge

Had three word prompts (money, wine, marriage) and each inspired a short story in the life of my half-orc fighter, Amana.

Warnings: hints of partner abuse, violence

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Age 17

The summer night was far too beautiful for Amana’s liking. Clear skies and bountiful stars during a once in a decade meteor shower. Her family’s garden was in full bloom, perfect for the picnic-style dinner that she’s participating in. And yet, Amana could care less.

The food left little taste in her mouth. The drinks barely helped to wash down every bite. Her partner blabbed on and on about gods only care. Never before had she taken this much issue with the circumstances of a date. Usually, she tried to find at least one thing that was enjoyable. But nothing could save just how unspecial everything felt.

Almost two years of dating and only recently did Amana realize just how boring Zuko was. After the first week of dating, Amana no longer felt that spark but she feared what breaking it off so soon would say about her. So, she hoped that he would eventually leave but he seemed to be very stuck to her.

All he ever wanted to talk about now was the politics of the duchy. And tonight was the worst. With tonight’s complaints including not being at the festival her family held during this celestial event.

“It’s a disgrace to the Valerian name to not partake in hosting,” He claimed, “How will people ever take us seriously as a couple if we don’t even show our faces?”

“You are very free to go attend. I’m sure my parents will love to have your company.” Amana folded her arms with a sigh. “You know I can’t stand public events.”

“You’re a Valerian. Your entire life is public. I don’t understand how you can get so overwhelmed just because people look to you. You must get used to it since it’s all we’ll have to do once we inherit the duchy.”

“I’m sorry, what? We?”

“Of course. I know, I know.” Zuko ran a hand through his hair and stood. “Kyra and Jace are older and, no offense, much smarter, but I think with me at your side, you could easily be picked to run Athista. After all, I am well-versed in how you all run the duchy. I think we could make a few changes here and there, perhaps raise the taxes to increase our wealth. And there are way too many aspiring merchants who contribute nothing. All in all, I know how to make sure Athista prospers.”

“I don’t want to run Athista. And while you may be ‘well-versed’ in the financial aspect, you obviously know very little about the interpersonal relationships my parents have invested in. As long as the people are happy, it doesn’t matter how much money my family has.” Amana pointedly ignored the jab at her intelligence but her muscles tensed. The boredom that rested in her heart awoke, changing form into a simmering fury. She stood toe to toe with Zuko, a few inches taller still, and glared down at him. “You best pick your next words carefully or I’ll make a few changes here and there to your face.”

Zuko scoffed and turned from Amana, unmoved by her attempt at intimidation. “Please. I know your family’s past. You used to be royalty. We could move back to that. Imagine the power, the wealth.”

Amana’s imposing stature started to falter, a myriad of emotions flashed across her face.

A sick smile spread on his face. “Amana, you must get it through your thick skull that I am the best thing to happen to you and your family. Because finally, someone will get the Valerian name to the prestige it once had. Unlike your mother, whose very health is in itself such an unnecessary cost.”

Without a second thought, Amana swung her fist into Zuko’s stomach. As he recovered, she clasped her hands together and slammed them down onto his head. Though a snarl graced her face, Amana’s eyes started to shimmer with tears.

Zuko buckled and fell to the ground with a loud grunt. A bestial growl emanated from Amana’s throat as she kicked Zuko once in the chest, then a second time to his face. “Get the fuck out of my home, bastard.”

There was a beat before Zuko’s groans turned into a grunt of effort as he struggled to get to his feet. He eventually made it to his feet, coughing, and trying to catch his breath.

“Now. Before I toss you over the gates myself.”

“You’ll...you’ll regret this, Amana,” Zuko seethed, clutching his side.

Amana moved forward to grab Zuko by the collar. He stepped back out of her reach. A palpable tension remained in the air as they glared daggers at each other. Zuko collected himself as best he could and shambled out of the garden.

Amana waited until she heard the slam of the front door, signaling Zuko’s exit. She slumped onto the bench, face in her hands. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly as she let out a shuddering sigh.

“Fuck.”

Age 22

Alcohol never appealed to her much before she left home. No amount of additives to a drink or outside pressure to partake could convince Amana that it was worth having. Something in her thinking changed after her mother’s death. She felt lost and unsure of everything and suddenly wine was a comfort.

She was consistently drunk. Often forgetting several days at a time but somehow still managing to not die and complete jobs given to her.

Then, she met Dathas. He was as beautiful as he was persuasive. She couldn’t say no when he offered the eladrin wine. And the drink suddenly became her ambrosia. Amana just had to have it daily and Dathas happily supplied.

So long as Amana gave him whatever he wanted.

Any inhibitions she entered the Feywild with disappeared with each drink. And though a small voice in her head told her that she didn’t like what Dathas asked of her, saying no was not an option. Not if she wanted to avoid Dathas’s fiery temper. The craving for wine soon turned from an addiction to its sweetness to a way to silence her pain.

Every touch, every kiss, every embrace never felt right but the wine kept her from thinking too hard about that.

Even at Dathas’s lavish parties, Amana drank heavily to avoid having coherent thoughts. When a gorgeous eladrin woman tried to strike a…genuine conversation with her and asked if she was okay, Amana couldn’t stop herself from bawling. The woman was quick to try to comfort her but it didn’t help that all eyes had turned to her. Despite knowing that this would embarrass and infuriate Dathas, Amana cried like a child. The red in her eyes was the only evidence of her breaking when she faced Dathas’s wrath after the party.

Slowly but surely, Amana mustered the strength to stop relying on the wine. During that last year with Dathas, she regained her wit and concocted an escape plan. All subsequent parties she attended, she was easily able to use her noble upbringing to schmooze and smile and act as if she didn’t hate how callous most of the fey Dathas entertained were, that she didn’t want to vomit every time Dathas touched her.

Amana would bide her time and wait for the right moment to strike.

Age 36

Amana was never one to read in her youth. There was no aversion to books, just never something that entertained her. Books were Jace’s thing, just as refinement was Kyra’s thing, and combat was hers. But without a slated adventure, her shoppe closed for the evening, and her family wanting time with their significant others, Amana felt now was the perfect time to try reading again.

Her book choice was just about the history of magic. It was boring but Amana was determined to get through something above a teenager’s reading level. After ending her pact with Zyanya a year ago, she no longer had access to spells. And admittedly, she wasn’t quite at the level of intelligence to become a wizard like her partner or artificer like Jace. But, it was never too late to try.

“I hope you don’t mind that I opened the bottle your father sent us.” Zyanya walked into the bedroom, two glasses of wine in her hands. She held one out to Amana before pulling it back. “And I…poured myself two glasses. I can get you--”

“It’s alright, Zee.” Amana smiled warmly and closed the book, setting it aside. She took the second glass and patted the space beside her on the bed.

Zyanya carefully curled up next to Amana. Her eyes curiously on the glass. “You sure? I mean, for all you know, I could’ve--”

Amana chuckled before pressing a kiss to Zyanya’s cheek. “I trust you, believe it or not.”

There was a beat before Zyanya nodded and her usual warm smile returned. She took a sip of her wine before noticing the book off to the side. “New hobby, love?”

“...I thought maybe I could…learn a little something. Magical weapons are all the rage so why not find a way to…be able to forge some.” Amana lightly swished the wine around in the glass. “I’m almost halfway through my life and only recently did I find a path I like for myself. I spent so much time trying to copy my mother then aimless, drunken nothing…and now, I’m trying to do what I think is best for me, but I’m never sure.”

“I think anyone who says they know exactly what they want out of life is lying.” Zyanya chuckled. “I mean, I’ve lived for hundreds of years and I still don’t know.”

Amana pursed her lips before taking a tentative sip of her wine.

“So...if I said, the one thing I knew I wanted was to marry you, you would call me a liar?”

Amana took a much longer sip as Zyanya stared at her silently. Unable to keep meeting the fey’s eyes, Amana glanced down and started picking at the bedsheets. She muttered, “Hypothetically...”

“I…I wouldn’t…call you a liar. I would ask if you were sure.” Zyanya put her glass aside and sat up straight.

Amana finished her glass of wine and put it on top of her book. She continued to pick at the bedsheets, her brow furrowed. “Well, now I’m not…but, I was only asking hypothetically. We live in the same home. We share a bed. You’ve won over my family. We’re...dating, I think? We’ve already made one pact with each other, I suppose I figured that I know I could trust you if we made a different type of pact…”

“That’s cute.”

Amana was quick to frown. With her head slightly cocked and eyes narrowed, she inched away from Zyanya. “Cute?”

“Yes, the little play on words. It was cute. I liked it.” Zyanya gently took Amana’s hands. “I wasn’t trying to patronize your feelings. I’m sorry if my tone was off.” She sighed. “This is why I ask if you’re sure. We’re very different beings, love. I see this world through a different lens and it doesn’t align with yours often. Our relationship started off as one of forced bonding and you know that I had...selfish reasons for agreeing to be your patron.”

Amana nodded, still frowning.

“I enjoy your company. I love that I can say that I want to go explore somewhere dangerous and you’re always ready. You don’t take shit from people. You’d probably tell a god to go ‘fuck themself’.”

“I would.”

Zyanya chuckled then grew serious again. “I’m scared that what I feel for you is still… self-serving. And the last thing I want is to be the cause of any pain to you.”

Amana squeezed Zyanya’s hands. “I think you having that worry is proof enough for me that it isn’t. Besides, how do you know that I’m not just using you because you have extremely powerful magic?" She paused for a beat. "We can never be absolutely sure of anything, not even what we may feel for each other. And I’m willing to take a chance with acting on how I feel about you, Zee. Plus, I’m sure you know that I wouldn’t hesitate to destroy you if you were using me still. Hypothetically speaking of course.”

“I don’t even get a bit of hesitation?” Zyanya dramatically places a hand over her heart. “I’m offended.”

Amana rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, maybe you’d get like five seconds of hesitation.”

The two pressed their foreheads together with quiet chuckles.

“This wasn’t you actually proposing, was it?”

“Hell no. I’ve got more sense to make it more exciting.”

“Good.” Zyanya kissed Amana’s nose before pulling away from her. “Because I would’ve said no.”

“You wound me, Zee.”