After the War: The White Wolf of Doranelle (Fenrys Moonbeam)

Chapter 8: Breathe

Fenrys

Fenrys couldn't breathe or move.

The later to be expected since his legs and arms were shattered once more.

White bone stuck out and the slightest poke or movement would bring him to the brink of screaming out.

But he kept on telling himself to breathe. To try to. So he wouldn't give himself away. Yet he couldn't. Not as the same sadist as earlier ran a hand down the length of his bare torso. Chained again on the table, as went each day he was here. His mind relapsing to when he was back with Maeve.

"This is the biggest reaction I've got from you," he said, still masked, yet he didn't wear gloves like the others. "Maybe we should bring in Amethyst."

He wasn't talking about the broken bones. Clearly he hadn't mistaken every flinch from a wince of pain when he ran a hand down him.

He had been here for a week, Rita confirmed it, and it wasn't like they were trying to keep it a secret. However, Rita basically resorted to the silent message with Fenrys once again and wasn't sharing much if anything at all, about a way to  help him escape. "You can't," Rita had told him in Halah. "No has. No one ever will. Everybody has the same hope of escape as you do now. But they all lose it sooner rather than later. Everybody."

But now, as the sadist's hand grazed his torso, brining back memories that Fenrys wished that he never had. 

Bow, said the voice that could devour stars and would never stop haunting him. For your disobedience, Connall will take your punishment for you and you will be the one to administer it, she had told him another time. 

But Fenrys couldn't allow to have a flash back now, so he focused on the pain, on the sadist looming over him.

He flinched again as the hand ran over the tattoo of Gavriel's name. "Maybe later, but now we have to remove your tattoos and scars."

Fenrys tried to lift his head up from the table and miserably failed. Every inch of him screaming in pain at the movement, but still said, "My what?"

He laughed pulling a dagger with a thing blade from his belt. "Perfect complexion goes higher, as one might expect. And with your face and history--"

"Again what?"

Another wicked laugh as he dragged the tip of the knife across his face. "The good thing about you having built a name for yourself is that we don't have to wonder how powerful you are, what kind of magic, and if your blood is pure or not."

Fenrys snarled, "Only Fae snobs care if someone's blood is pure." He was of course talking about if humans had "diluted" it. But really only Doranelle's nobility and other Fae assholes cared about that sort of thing.

"And maybe you will be going to Fae snobs," the sadist said, jade eyes surveying his body. "What's also interesting about you, is that you have a magic ability that's only now known to you. And you're a twin. Which means that your fertility is much higher, and the chances of having a twin yourself is also much higher. And for Fae, that is very valued."

"You're saying that people would pay you, so they could rape me for offspring." What a terrifying and disgusting thought that was.

"Oh it's happened before. Especially with powerful magic wielders," he said, the blade starting to piercing the twin scars that Maeve gave him on his face. Ones that he could've healed over before it scarred, but wanted to keep it so there would be something, anything, to show what Maeve did to him. Fenrys tried to jerk his head away, but the sadist's other hand went to his neck holding him in place.