Warning: Sexual Assault
Gone. The skin of my right hand has become the same pale colour as the rest of my body.
Ralph lifts my hand with trembling fingers, and before our eyes again, a red rose blooms upon my hand beguilingly. A momentary nothingness comes upon my mind. Who? Why? And with the howl of a tsunami, the pieces clump together into a magnificently vivid painting of simple composition. I've become Declan's, I was the prize of they bet wasn't I? Bitterness radiates upon my tongue, I can even picture it now, everything's so clear. Wouldn't it have been something that seemed near impossible to Zus Kade, something like 'if one of you dies, Cynder becomes mine.' And of course Zus would've accepted, after all they'd never believed that a demon could be killed by a mere human. Their arrogance wouldn't have allowed it.
Julius's eyes sear through my hand and up my arm, and this time, confusion steals into the crimson. A cold hand grasps my other hand and tugs me hard against Ralph's hold. Smoke and wine tickles my nose, and Declan grins down at me, lips spasming even wider as if laughing is the only thing he knows what to do. The nausea burns up in flames. It's that look again. That familiar look he's always had in his eyes like all I am to him is an object, a prize that could be won. Again.
"You fucker." I seethe, struggling against his strong hold.
Declan clicks his tongue, shaking his head, and his grip on mine increases until pain courses through the bone, "That won't do."
The air burns sharply cold, a gust of wind pushes through our hair, and wetness splashes all over us with an almighty cry of the sky. Ralph's eyes tremble from the sigil on my hand to Declan to me again, the bruised violet of his eyes grappling for something that should be near and yet infinitely far again. His hand grips aureus, knuckles burning white, but before he can draw and cut Declan down, the Red-haired man's voice rings out obtrusively, "I'm afraid that bastard's under my protection as well."
Ralph's pupils contract into tight slits, "I don't care." He breathes, drawing his sword with a glacial screech.
He directs the point out, raises his arm, and every movement, breath, every drop of rain slicing over and off his blade slows and becomes uselessly clear.
"Ralph. Stop."
I stare at the redness of Julius's eyes, now utterly devoid of an ounce of emotion.
Aureus wavers in the air, and I know, I know with all that I've seen in my previous life, that he won't do it. He won't cut down. This is it. This is something I have to deal with on my own. God's done it again, fate, whatever damned thing people call it. It's never going to stop is it? A growing ache tramples through my chest, and I'm burning up once more, burning up like a dying star from all the things I've already buried and have to bury. If only I was made stronger in this world. If only I could wield magic. If only!
Ralph's sword swings down, back into the scabbard. And I hate, I hate the world for being unfair.
"That's right." Declan coos, pulling me forcefully against Ralph's still tight grip.
He does not let go, but his jaw is clenched, a vein bulging from his forehead, and he looks away.
"This isn't a playground without consequences," Declan whispers, "If you're not going to fight, let go."
He cups my chin and neck with his other hand and pulls, hand jamming into my windpipe. I flail, kicking against his shins, hands scrabbling at his iron grip under my chin. Fuck. Air.
"After all, it's your fault isn't it?" Declan's voice swims in and out through the pounding. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam, "If only you'd helped Lutra, this wouldn't have happened, hmm?"
The hold on my hand fizzes away into nothingness, and I flop into Declan's arms gasping, air burning my throat like everything's on fire. Saltiness bite through my tongue, and my eyes fight through the dancing black spots to the hooded figure. A jolt flinches through him, and he steps forward, but really what can he do? A pained laughter rings against each wall of my mind. Lilith's the fucking Judge, it was my own fault for not listening to him. It was my fault for not opening the link when I should've. Nothing but my fault.
Were the choices I made so wrong? Even though I chose to hold onto my ideals.
Are these ideals so very flawed in your eyes, God?
"That's it." Smoke press the shell of my ear, "You're all just fucking cowards. What did you say again, Julius Kade? 'He will serve me until the day he dies', what absolute bullshit! I'm the winner here!"
"That's enough." The red-haired man fixes his eyes on us sternly.
A raucous laugh bursts from Declan's mouth, "Now that I think about it, it's all because of that Otherworlder woman isn't it? The twins, your brother... And I'll tell you what, this isn't going to be the end!"
And the ground melts beneath our feet, and we're sinking down as if it were a whirlpool, and the last sight I see before all melts into deep space is the shifting darkness marring Ralphus's handsome face, and the last thing I hear is, "You promised, you promised!", and everything's gone, and I'm tumbling through the endless void of a portal in Declan's tight reign.
The stomach-flipping combination of neon colours flicker around us, and before the buzz can even fade from my ear, the floor slams up into me. Pain flows through my knees, and I choke drily over the wooden floor. Declan grabs my other hand, forces it behind me, and clink, the cold metal of handcuffs bite into my skin. Upon the heavy metal settles another hot corded bond that sends pinpricks of pain shooting up my arm. I scramble to my feet and turn to face Declan.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
He shrugs, stalking towards me over the bare wooden floor, "You look at me as if you've seen my type before." He chuckles, as if replying to his own joke, "Though considering that you're a slave, you probably have seen my type at the slave markets."
Ants crawl under my skin, and I sweep my eyes across the room. One door, behind Declan, no windows, king-sized bed, nothing else. Well, aren't I fucked?
"I guess," he presses forwards, full of night fury and lust, "there was a reason behind the Kades not wanting to sell you. In some perspective...I'm much worse."
My feet slip back, and although the logic in my head roars up against me, I gauge the distance to the door. Four or five metres, could I make it if I slip past Declan? But damn, how am I supposed to open it when my hands are chained behind me? Shit. There's no way I can even beat the crap out of him with my arms like this. My eyes shoot back to his approaching figure, and a wave of nausea gushes upwards even though I've had nothing to eat.
That gaze.
Grey eyes, wry smile, curling red hair, soft, soft, hard, hard, Dan, Dan. The room blurs and refocuses. He's dead. I made sure of it. I killed him myself. But god, this man in front of him, that look twisting his face into demons and the fires of oblivion, that look is just like...him. Bile scours my throat.
Red light, forwards, backwards, shaking, slap, slap, slap, head tugged backwards by the hair dyed red like him, pain tingling through my scalp, burning through the thing pounding behind, red hot cigarette scorching into skin, and screaming, screaming, "Call my name cynder, call my fucking name—
I gag, drool dripping onto the floor with the water off my hair, drip , drip, drip.
A small amused sigh of a laugh rises darkly ahead of me, "I just want to talk to you for now."
He places a hand on my shoulder, and I jerk away, slamming my feet into his knee. A sharp growl erupts from his lips, and a wave of grey light drags me by the neck to the centre of the bed. I land into the rough sheets with a crack and struggle away, gasping, but the magic wraps itself around my ankles with a hot jab of pain and anchors me into place.
"Be good." Declan snarls, massaging his kneecap, "I don't want to punish you so early on in the game."
I clench my jaw, teeth grinding together tighter and tighter. Playtime's over.
"What deal did you make?"
He tilts his head and settles down on the end of the bed, water still dripping down his face in tear-like rivulets, "It was too easy, Julius Kade didn't have much control over his siblings at all." He gives a slow shrug, "If one of them died before the end of the season I'd get you, and well, the impossible became the possible. Impulsive little bastards."
"You were working with that woman?" I ask coldly.
"No... and yes. But I'm curious about you, just who are you?" His fingers dance along the sheets towards me, "Where did you come from? How did you become a slave? Why? Everything, everything's a mystery."
A bitter laugh flies from my mouth, "I wish I knew too."
His smile slowly fades, "It's fine if you don't answer me, those things, the memories, the reminiscence of loved ones, they're all going to be meaningless to you from now on."
"Meaningless." The word trails from my throat long and undiluted in any significant sense, "Those things were meaningless to me from the beginning. They weren't worth a dime."
Declan's dark eyes twitch, "That's it, that's the spark, I'm really very fond of it you know. The first time you looked at me on stage, it shot right through me." He leans forwards, fingers tracing up my cheek, eyes glossed over with the idiocy of infatuation and a twisted tint of hate, "I do love it, and I'd love to crush it. I have to." His gaze swirls to mine, no longer full of amusement and enjoyment but a seriousness that is crippled and deformed beyond any salvation, "I love it, I really do, The heat, the hidden knives, the threat to burn the whole world down with a single curve of the lip. But you'd look more beautiful, infinitely more beautiful if your eyes were blank and dead. There would be infinite fragility and an eternity of fearlessness, and then you'd truly allow the world to hold you."
The words fade on his tongue, and he searches my eyes with those twin neutron stars, and he flinches backwards, all the futile, drunken posturing lowering back over his expression. He must've seen something within my face, the fire, the pit, the disgust, the rejection.
"Don't you see?" I murmur with steel in my tone, "This is all meaningless too. You can wreck a person, and another and another, but you'll never receive their forgiveness, and you'll never gain preservation."
My head snaps back, and a low throbbing pulses in the side of my jaw. His eyes flash in mock anger, and he clutches his knuckles as if my face had done them great harm.
"I'll be back." He whispers, and a whirlpool of grey light devours him.
A faint ringing builds up at the front of my head, and a string of curses scream through my mind. I work at the cuffs behind me. Pure metal, no luck at all. I try to yank my feet apart, away from the bed, but they too do not budge, the pain only worsens into a dim thrum. This is it isn't it?
It always, always comes down to this doesn't it? Doesn't matter whether it's Earth or here. God, whatever damned supernatural being there is holding the strings, is always determined to make my life a living hell.
No, I laugh, maybe this is going to be worse. At least I was able to kill Dan, and Jacques. Fuck, Jacques wasn't even that... bad.
I close my eyes and dig through my mind. Reaching out towards that pulsing castle, I tear brick apart from brick, walls apart from walls, and there, I clutch onto the Bond. Another being's warmth fills my heart until it's near bursting, and I'm fulfilled again. Images scatter through my mind, grey, looming sky, ice rain, a dispersing crowd.
Cynder, don't worry, I'll get you out of there soon.
Worry and flashing anger and a growing hint of happiness drifts through the link into me.
Sorry, I should've listened to you.
Pain sparks from the other side, no, well...
I was going to have a talk to you today regarding us and these relationships. This morning's decision rises clearly within my mind, and I take in a deep breath, pulling open the bolted doors of my heart to all the swirling, conflicted, turmoil of feelings I have towards him. It was wrong of you to force the bond without my consent, you should've explained everything to me no matter how desperate you were. But what's done is done, and there's no going back. And I admit, someday, whether that's near or far, I'll accept these feelings of love as mine; you won't need to suffer through that. But surely, before you made the bond with me, you were aware that I liked Ralphus too? And if I continue liking him, perhaps even loving him one day, I'd be loving you both at the same time, do you understand?
Lilith says nothing, but a confirmation composed out of both sorrow and explosive joy radiates through the throbbing string between us.
Can you accept that? Surely you don't expect me to stop liking Ralphus out of obligation when this Bond itself is forced?
A shudder runs through his psyche, No, he answers weakly, no, I don't expect you to stop loving Ralphus. And if it's to keep you by my side, yes, I will accept him. I'll try to accept him with all my heart, if that'd make you happy, but would he accept me?
I smile sourly, That man, well, I'd say he's already accepted you somewhat, but I suspect he'll beat you up if he sees you again.
Like you.
Yes, like me. I feel inclined to beat you up again as well. But we'd have to have a talk together on this matter. And Lilith, Sol, don't expect me to be kind to you about this.
A shiver courses through him and a fraction of his arousal shoots through me like an electrical pulse. Sorry, embarrassment and restraint flows through the bond.
I sweep my eyes across the entirety of the room again. Can you see this?
Yes. He says with a renewed cold seriousness.
Whatever you're planning to do to get me out of here, you better do it fast, and if you need me to co-operate with anything, tell me.
A wave of wrathful anxiety flows through me, Nothing, you don't need to do anything, it won't be long.
A pool of grey smoke gathers in front of the bed again, and from within steps out a seemingly refreshed Declan. His dark navy hair is no longer plastered to his face, and instead of his uniform, he's wearing a casual shirt and pants. The smile he fires at me, also, seems different in fundamental meaning. It's come to some sort of end, full to the brim of an anticipation that is neither impatient nor liberal. And strangely, strangely, his face is calm, as still as Ralph under the illumination of the moonlight, maybe even calmer - without even a fraction of fluctuation.
He's there isn't he? Don't be afraid, I'm here.
Declan climbs onto the bed, kneels on the crumpled sheets and just looks at me, whisking out a cigarette from thin air, "No one can save you now." A tendril of grey smoke wraps itself around the end of his cigar, and with a brief flash the paper ignites, "Don't expect the Kades to interfere, things aren't all smooth sails back in Mal, and they know it clearly enough. And Lilith, hah," He takes a puff of the cigar and blows the choking, white smoke over my face like it's a shroud to cover my body, "There's even less chance he can get you out of here, he's the Judge, he can't very well break the rules of the Academy can he? You're my prize; no one has the right to ask you back, certainly not him. There are consequences, and well," He waves the cigar and lets the ash dribble onto the sheets with a hiss, "a man like him wouldn't sacrifice his position no matter how much he's fond of you."
I stare at him from under my eye-lids and blow away the heavy smoke.
Don't listen to him, quick panic and an old hatred fires from Lilith, I will get you out of there, believe me, no one will stop me.
Am I doubting you? I release a deep breath through my nostrils and watch the lazy curls of smoke whirl away into non-existence. What's done is done, do your best, but you shouldn't sacrifice too much for me.
Bitterness bleeds through the Bond, And yet you still wish for me to get you out of there with all your heart.
Declan extends a hand through the boundary of fragile smoke and grips me by the chin. I whip my head to the side, but he grasps me in an iron grip and so I look at him, I stare at him in the eye, fix my pupils to his pupils and set my gaze ablaze like the inferno it is. His eyelid twitches, and grey magic crushes his cigarette into mere dust.
"It's not like I expected you to give up this quickly." His voice travels soft and quiet through the rising smoke.
I lean forwards, "I won't ever give in, you bastard."
Well said Cynder.
Declan shakes his thick navy hair, "Well then, we shouldn't waste anymore time should we? I have a gift for you darling, to congratulate your entry into my house." A whirlpool of grey collects above his palms, and a clear plastic-like tray appears within his hands.
My eyes glide over its contents, and my heart is plunged into the deepest, coldest depths of the sea.
What is—
But before Lilith can finish his sentiment, I throw the bricks and metal and floors and walls back over the surging Bond and muffle the haunting warmth of his presence. My mind cries and throws out transparent hands for his shapeless comfort, but it's gone again, I make sure of it.
Declan takes the small knife from the tray and cuts my heavy shirt in two, spraying water everywhere upon the tip of the blade.
Bile breaks forward to the entry of my throat, "Will anything I say stop you?"
He grins, fleeting and innocent, "No."
Pulling roughly, he tears my shirt apart and half-way down my arms. I grind my teeth together and look up at the ceiling with its pure white paint without even a single stain. This again. Damn.
Icy coldness touches my nipples, and a hard shiver tingles up my abdomen. I flinch away, but Declan's hands clamp down on me crushingly, "Don't move."
Then pain.
Pain sparks through that tender place, and something mind-numbingly cold is drawn through both that hot soreness and my heart.
"There." Declan sighs, "Have a look."
Pierced through my right nipple is a gleaming, silver nipple ring, and with a loving hand, Declan attaches a crystal embedded bead into the delicate gap. My chest heaves up and down, but I swallow down the nausea and force my body to stay as still as a stiffened corpse. But his hands don't move away from the nipple, contrary, he grips the crystal bead, and a grey smoke leaks from his fingers, enveloping either end of the bead. A growing horror sloshes through my stomach and carves itself into the pits of my bowel.
"What the fuck are you doing?" My voice wavers despite all my efforts.
Declan sweeps his hair back and takes up the needle again, "I melded it with my magic, it's made of Plythium, hardest thing in the world." His vacuum eyes bend beyond hysteria, "I'm afraid you won't be able to take it off again."
An explosive whiteness spreads inside my head. Did I hear him right? I won't be able to take it off again. Won't be able to take it off. The ringing in my ear deafens me, and somehow, somehow I can't breathe, the air isn't enough. No, no, no, no, no. This is wrong.
"Fuck no." I pull against the tethers of magic and metal, thrashing against the sheets, "NO. You'll fucking regret this! I'll kill you!"
A sigh whistles from Declan's mouth, and an undeniable force plots straight into my shoulders, pinning me right into the sheets. I strain my muscles, push against the crumpling force. No use. No fucking use! I can't move, and the needle's getting closer, and closer, and my eyes blink shut tightly.
And pain.
And coldness. Burning. Burning.
"There. Magnificent. These really do suit you beautifully."
I open my eyes, and Declan's holding a mirror before my chest, and there, there, I can see every detail of the gleaming rings embedding my nipples, the finely cut, radiance of the little crystals dangling down, the utter helplessness in the buds of flesh and my face. How twisted.
"YOU!" But the rest chokes into my throat, I can't even drive them out, they're so harsh.
He smiles down at me, and stares at the perked, swollen, pulsing points in utter infatuated, deformed bliss, "You'll love them, you'll come to love them as much I do." A faint, winter-toned clang resounds in the small room, and he holds a syringe to my eye, "You'll feel real good with this, I promise."
My eyes widen. My feet stretch taunt. I jerk against the bonds. No. No. Don't do this to me. Not again.
Not again.
Someone.
Anyone.
Prick. Pain and numbness radiate through my arm.
"That's right." He coos.
No one, only him.
And everything blurs.
-
AN: Why did I do this? Because I'm a goddamn sadist to my characters, hah. Quite torn about this currently: comment your opinion - a chapter on Cynder's rape or not?
YOU ARE READING
Ruin Maketh Me
Fantasy"Sit on my lap." He commands, sliding the chair back a fraction. My mind tangles into a mess of thoughts and astonishment, "Pardon me?" He pats his knee and looks at me domineeringly, "Sit on my lap." ...
