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Epitaph of Anguish: Set Upon

The Ambassador finally catches on that the Black Lord has been boning a Wandsman. Things go poorly.

AN: I am serious. This is literal torture. Do not read this unless you are in the right headspace for it.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, EXTREME GORE, STATED DESIRE FOR DEATH, SEXUAL ASSAULT

Warnings: DEAD  DOVE: DO NOT EAT, extreme whump, Forbidden Relationship, Assault, Dismemberment, Broken and/or Dislocated Bones, Vomiting, Degloving, Castration, Disembowelment, Body Horror, Torture, Witnessing Torture, Exile, Abuse of Power, Corrupt Politicians, Eldritch Horror, The Ambassador Can Read Minds, Force Feeding, Forced Consumption of Organs.

_-_-_

Dýo attempted to awaken, wanting to see nothing more than what had already been seen and desperately pushing away. Yet the Mask still fell further into the dredges of memory. Within the quiet cell came the delicate crackle of giving porcelain as the break began to spread.

A summons to the high court came by courier. Such an odd thing it was, as often the Black Lord was present there, they normally went there on a set schedule. Perhaps, though, something had happened in one of the other four cities that was of grand importance. So they donned some of their finer silks, and went to offer to bring along the Doctor, who was more than twelve weeks into a most incredibly surprising long stay. Not that the Noble was complaining about such a thing, of course, as the Wandsman's presence did bring such a grand light to their dark, dreary courtroom.

They finally found him sitting quietly in the library, the most worrisome, distant expression on his face. He'd had that expression quite a bit lately, and they were beginning to suspect that staying so long was taking a toll on the Doctor's help, but, in an a bout of surely harmless selfishness, they simply couldn't bring themself to tell him he ought to return. He would likely refuse the request anyway, they were certain. He quite liked doing that sort of thing.

The thought of what could have happened after just a short while longer still repulsed the Mask even centuries after the fact. There was such a certainty in that they could never forgive themself. Not for letting him stay even when he grew gaunter with each passing day. Not for bringing him along. And, by the gods, never for continue to harm him so in the name of sheer, blasted selfishness.

"...Darling?"

Their court doctor jolted, soft-scales fluffing suddenly and making him look like a rather interestingly shaped, and particularly fuzzy hedge. He set down the book he'd been looking through. "Aye, mine lord?"

"I'm to head to the Court again. It's a bit afore I said, I understand, but they've sent me a letter.." They offered it to him in case he wanted to have a look. "Wouldst thou liketh come 'long withal me? the Capitol is stunning this timeth of year."

Silence for a moment as the Wandsman looked the letter over, then the other being was smiling brightly up at his noble, "I would love to, grammercy."

The Black Lord dipped their head, "But of course, mine love. Perhaps the fresh air thither wilt doeth thou some good, too. Thy hast been looking awfully pallid, as of late."

For a split second, that smile faltered. "Ah, fuck off. I be perfectly spritely," the Doctor insisted, "Am I to don some thing fancy, or nay?"

"As though thy wouldst doth I dare inquire," the Noble huffed, "Nay, I shalt just ask a servant to pack thy things along withal mine and we shalt start heading down. I wouldst liketh an we might get on by noon at the latest, an tis fine."

"Tis fine."

A few hours later, and the two were on their way, the trip spanning about three days overall. for much of the first two, the back of the Black Lord's carriage ended up nothing short of traumatized, the slight space doing little to hinder the slighter form of the doctor as he found himself quite frequently bouncing upon the Noble's lap at about the rhythm of the bumps in the road. Upon the third, however, spent as they both were from the lengthy ride, they both had settled, the Noble watching the Doctor as he stared, transfixed, at the lavish statues, colorful, candlelit streets, and bustling marketplaces of the largest city of the Great Alagadda. Finally, as all good things did, the carriage ride came to an end, rolling to a stop some distance from the inner city. The Black Lord sent a peon to announce their presence, holing up in an inn with the Doctor to await permission to enter the place.