Chapter Fourteen
I was a prisoner.
Despite leaving the door open so that I may freely leave, I soon learned why Dianna felt it was safe to do so. I left my room two days later in the morning, walked down the hallway with the intention to find an escape, only to discover that the hallways had been rigged with a spell so that I automatically forgot where I was and couldn't find my way back, which led to a four hour aimless wandering. I'd tried to leave marks on the walls, but either they disappeared or the hallways were possibly switching on me.
Either way, I was now lost in a giant palace in a place I'd never been to.
As if I wasn't screwed before.
I winced at that particular word use, rubbing at the insides of my arms. My forearms were sore and red from viciously scratching at them and cutting them more than usual. While the wounds healed to scars, it didn't feel like enough. I needed something more, and that suicidal sensation left me with my only option-- try to find an escape. Either I'd get out or someone would find me and beat the shit out of me, so either way I would win... maybe.
I walked through the hallways, listening to the distant sounds of the ocean waves crashing on a white sandy beach, the sound of palm tree leaves rustling in the wind, the soft crackle of fire in the oil burners mounted on the walls. Every so often, I'd pass a window and hoped it wasn't a dozen feet off the ground, only to be disappointed. All I had learned about the place I was at was the fact that it was an island and it was rocky and mountainous and there was no fucking way out of the damn building. I hadn't even come across a door, just open archways into another hallway. I'd found a courtyard, but there was nothing there, but grass and a dragon fountain.
This is it, I thought dryly as I walked through the hallways.
I'm gonna die like this. Wandering the hallways forever until I can't take it anymore and smash my head open.
I tried once again to retrace my steps, but to no avail. It just led me even deeper into the winding, twisting castle of horrors. Well, not really. Just the fact that I couldn't find where I was going. The building itself was strangely nostalgic. It was massive, everything was made of nicely carved stone blocks, oil burners made of bronze, plain open air windows with nothing to prevent the cool breeze from outside to come in. It was open and airy and I would've enjoyed it if I wasn't imprisoned here by the enemy, who had yet to come stop me or kill me.
I had no idea what Atlan had up his sleeve, and at the moment, I didn't care.
"Where the hell is a bathroom?!" I shouted, stopping abruptly in an archway to glare at yet another empty courtyard.
"You should've asked earlier," came Dianna's voice from behind me. I stiffened and whipped around so fast, I almost gave myself whiplash as I backed up against a wall, glaring at her as she stood a few feet from me, wearing a long summery dress with her hair swept back from her face, a smile spread across her lips.
"Where did you come from?" I demanded. Dianna arched a brow.
"I believe it's called reproduction. See--"
"I don't mean that," I said, trying not to let it show how impatient her sarcasm made me, "I mean, how did you find me here? Where were you?" Dianna relaxed, kept smiling. Did she ever stop smiling? Didn't it hurt to smile that much? Then again, Arikos smiled that much too. Was it a ploy to make me relax around them? Because smiling just made me uneasy now.
"I was nearby and just happened to hear you wandering around. Are you alright? Do you wish for something to eat?" She asked. I eyed her suspiciously. While she was physically too frail and obviously not a soldier, she could still be dangerous. I wasn't entirely sure how; poison, maybe. Iapetus had always told us to be careful of women in that respect. Women were far more likely to poison than men; men preferred torture, apparently. I think I'd rather be poisoned than tortured.
And even though my stomach cramped sharply at the idea of eating, I wasn't in the mood. I didn't want anything in my stomach at the moment and the idea of eating something that was possibly poisoned only quelled my appetite further.
"I want to talk to Atlan," I said at last. After all, the bastard yanked me out of Hell and dropped me in another kind of hell. One where he had yet to confront me and I was tired of playing his waiting game. It was now or never, and I was pissed enough to tell Atlan to fuck off and die without fearing for my life.
Not that I was ever really afraid of dying.
If anything, it would be a relief, which fueled my urge to piss Atlan off further.
"He may not be available," Dianna murmured, reaching up to place a hand on her cheek thoughtfully, "Last I checked, he was away, but if you let me feed you, I can go--"
"I don't want your food and I don't want your hospitality. It's clear that I am a prisoner here and treating me as a guest will not earn you brownie points," I replied flatly, folding my arms over my chest. Dianna scowled at me quizzically.
"Brownie points?"
"I don't know," I admitted. I'd heard Hannibal, Akin, Arikos, and a number of other people use the term and while I understood its use, I wasn't entirely sure what it meant.
"Very well," Dianna said at last, then cut me a grimace, "Just don't use your strange modern idioms around me. It makes my skin crawl." I arched a brow at that particular reaction.
"Why?" I asked. Dianna frowned for a moment, a haunting look passing in her eyes before she averted the, clearing her throat and gesturing for me to follow her. Mostly curious about her reaction, I obeyed. Dianna never answered my question. Just led me through the winding hallways as if she knew exactly where she was going, and it made sense that Atlan's servant would know how to maneuver the halls.
"You're not a prisoner, by the way," Dianna said, making me give her a droll stare.
"Of course not. The ever changing halls are just to give me exercise and the island is to help me relax."
"What else would it be for?" Dianna asked. Her tone was so serious it caught me off guard and I looked her, but she kept her eyes ahead and I sighed, averting my eyes. Yeah, there was no getting through to this woman. She was brainwashed and didn't appear to even realize that her own charge was a prisoner-- or maybe she did and Atlan had just ordered her to be nice to me in order to sway me to their cause.
Nice try, Atlan.
Niceness was not the way to win my loyalty now. If anything, it only made me more bitter. Because it was the cold hard reality that slapped me across the face, reminding me that no one would be nice to me out of the kindness of their hearts. No one was nice without a reason. Everyone and everything had a motive. For a moment, a memory blipped in my mind of Arikos, but I quickly shook my head, reminded myself the whole reason Arikos had played the nice guy in the first place.
Being the Key of Atlantis was turning out to be a really shitty gig.
So much for being all-powerful.
Tiberius saw to that. A chill crept up my spine at the reminder and I flinched at a wave of memories I really did not want to revisit. I shuddered and came to a stop in the hallway, making Dianna look at me in concern, but her voice was muffled by the sudden onslaught of unwanted voices in my head. I cursed and snatched at my wrists, sinking my fingernails down into the fresh scars in an attempt to rip them open.
Dianna's eyes widened in fright and she caught my hands to stop me and I snarled at her, making her leap back. The fear in her eyes instantly snapped me out of my horror show and I swallowed hard, stepping back against the wall, my chest rising and falling frantically as I tried to regain control of myself.
"Don't touch me," I said after a moment, making Dianna start to speak, but I cut her off, "Please." Her eyes flickered for a moment, and then there was a strange understanding in her eyes before she inclined her head to me.
"Of course. My apologies. Would you like to continue to Lord Atlan's quarters or return to your own?" She asked. I wanted to tell her to let me go on my own, but something told me that she wasn't going to let me have free reign of these halls just yet. Meanwhile, there was a part of me that wasn't prepared to face Atlan. There was something in me that felt like it was about to give way and I didn't want to let that go in front of Atlan.
Still, this wasn't the time for me to deal with my own issues.
I was in the lair of the beast. I might as well gain information on the enemy while I was in his clutches. Not to mention, a childish part of me believed that the information I gathered here would be useful to Hannibal. If I ever got out that is.
So I dug inside for that calm place deep inside. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.
Suck it up, boy. This is war. There is no room for tears in war. Something Iapetus had told me the first day I stood on the battlefield.
"Take me to Atlan," I told Dianna, who inclined her head and continued down the hallway. I followed after her, burying down everything I could that Atlan would see as a weakness. He obviously knew enough about me already, something that made me extremely uneasy considering I'd never met the bastard before. The only times I'd seen him, he was attacking Hannibal and there was no time for him to stop and ask me my hobbies. Then again, he was one of the first beings in existence, so he had powers no one knew of. For all I knew, he could read my mind.
Which meant I'd have to keep a lot of things downlow in my head. The idea of it gave me a headache, but I didn't want to let Atlan on to what I was doing. Atlan seemed to think that being kind to me would sway me, and I was prepared to play his game until the time came where I could escape. It wasn't going to be easy, I knew that already.
But I wasn't going to let Atlan corrupt my loyalties.
No matter how stupid and pointless it was to be loyal to people who hated me.
Wow. Iapetus was right; I am a fucking moron.
I said nothing as we spent what felt like another hour in the halls until we finally reached the end of a long narrow corridor where a large wooden door sat at the end. I frowned as we neared it and Dianna paused to rap her knuckles twice on the door before tilting her head to listen. Somehow she'd heard the silent acceptance of our entry and opened the door, allowing me to go in ahead first.
The room was far more extravagant than the one I'd woken up in. This one bled ego in every intricately carved ancient furniture that littered the room, the large canopy bed draped with heavy red and black silks to match the bed set. A door led to a large bathing room with an ancient bathing pool inside with naturally flowing water to keep it constantly clean. A pair of iron gate doors on the opposite end of the room opened to a large balcony with a stunning view of the tropical world outside, including the ocean far beyond.
Everything in the room was also meticulously placed. Everything was straight and cold. It reminded me of the way Iapetus always wanted our home to be. If we forgot to replace something or clean something, he'd slam our head into a wall and threat to return if we didn't straighten everything out. Now that I thought about it, Akin was also very precise in what he did. When I thought back to their bedroom, I realized that everything had a place, everything was neat and clean. Their entire apartment was that way, but their bedroom more so.
A power thing, I realized as I surveyed the room. They had power over everything in their lives. They were used to it. Changing it totally threw them out of their comfort zone. I tucked that file away quickly.
"My lord," Dianna spoke, startling me, "Menoetius is here to see you. I will take my leave now." Confused, I watched her leave the room, but she didn't lock the door again. Now I understood why with those damn hallways. However, I had no idea who she was speaking to considering the room was empty... until I caught movement out the corner of my eye and I snapped around to face the balcony where Atlan was stepping off the balcony rail where he appeared to be lounging, and a sick pool of dread started in my stomach.
He'd been there the whole time hadn't even noticed. He was so quiet and he'd concealed his powers, meaning he didn't trust me, despite his attempt to appear generous.
"Menoetius,"Atlan greeted, coming into the room, "I'm glad you're finally awake." His voice gave me chills, because it was just a couple octaves deeper than Arikos's, but he held the same aristocratic Atlantean dialect as Hannibal. Atlantean dialect varied, and most of them were categorized by class. Some were thicker than others, like Arikos's. A very heavy almost twangy Atlantean accent, belonging to the lower class and priests. Hannibal's, though combined with Greek, was far more rich and lighter, his Rs rolled more softly and his Ds more like a TH sound.
It unnerved me how similar the three of them sounded.
"I've prepared a snack," Atlan said, his voice breaking my thoughts and making me frown, "Dianna's informed me you have yet to eat. You must be starving." Betraying my whole plan of not showing weakness, my stomach cramped and whined loudly, making me wince. I sank my fingernails across my abdomen, glaring at Atlan suspiciously.
"You'll have to forgive me. I lose my appetite in the presence of assholes," I replied crisply. Instead of being offended, Atlan chuckled.
"I assure you, nothing is poisoned or drugged. That would defeat the purpose of my attempt to return you to health," he explained, then drifted back out onto the balcony, a gesture that indicated he wanted me to follow. I did, but kept a good distance from him.
Out the balcony was a wrought iron patio set with a large platter of cheeses, olives, and bread. A couple of goblets were already sitting with diluted wine. I arched a brow at that and Atlan smiled.
"I know of the Greeks distaste in excess. I may not be fond of your kind, but I make it my duty to know my enemy well." His words confirmed my suspicions, mostly. Atlan knew a lot, how I had no idea, but he knew enough to try and use it against me. Unfortunately for him, Arikos had already used this trick on me and I wasn't falling for it.
"Yes, and I'm not fond of your kind either," I responded. Atlan inclined his head before he took a seat and I sat on the opposite end of the table to keep the distance. Atlan took a sip of wine, then glanced out over the beach for a moment. I didn't touch anything on the table, kept my arms low and out of sight.
"How do you like your room?" Atlan asked at last. I cut him a dry stare.
"Great, but that's not what I'm here to discuss."
"Then, by all means, discuss," Atlan said. He was calm. Unnervingly so. He was confident, arrogant even, and it was clear he thought he had control of the whole situation, which he did in some respects, but he was doing all of this ass-kissing to lure me to his side. If he thought he was winning, he'd be even more calm, more laidback... more likely to slip up.
"Why am I here? How did I get here?" I demanded. Atlan nodded, looking down at the food for a moment. His smile faded and a strange haunted look came into his eyes. He blinked, then looked up at me.
"What do you remember?" He asked. My jaw tightened as the surge of nausea hit me again, but there was nothing left to vomit and I wasn't about to vomit in front of him. He was trying to play the sympathizer. So I swallowed and spoke in a low, hard voice.
"Mostly everything." Atlan grimaced. I almost expected him to laugh, but that would ruin his whole sympathize with me and win me over plan. I said nothing more and Atlan just nodded once as he picked up his wine and took another sip.
"I did hire Tiberius to fetch you for me," Atlan admitted, making my fists clench tightly against my knees, "I did not, however, hire him to do what he did to you. It was my mistake. However, if you remember correctly, the matter has been dealt with." His words sparked anger in me. The matter has been dealt with? What matter? The fact that he'd used me like a whore for how many days? The fact that he and his men were dead changed nothing... and a cold ripple effect started through my veins.
Killing them won't change anything, Menoetius. Hannibal's voice rang like an eerie reminder in the back of my mind. While I had gained satisfaction from killing Tiberius, it changed nothing. It didn't change the fact that I was still used, still disgusting, still bruised and scarred. It didn't take away the nightmares or the flashbacks.
I swallowed that back quickly, forcing the memories down.
"Yes," I said at last, unable to find any other words. Atlan studied me, and I waited to see false pity, but there was a warm sympathy there that almost looked convincing.
"You awoke some of your powers that night I came to you in the slums. Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"How did it feel?" He asked. I tensed. It felt awful, honestly. Killing was normal for me. Being out of control while doing it was not normal and it felt... scary. Even after Tiberius was dead, I'd kept going. There was a hot powerful rage flooding through my veins, one that drove me to keep going, one that begged me to just rip his soul out and devour that too. I'd never felt like that before, and I briefly wondered if that was how Hannibal felt whenever he had gone on a rampage.
"Powerful," I murmured. Because it was the truth. Powerful, yes. A dark power.
"It's the power of being the key," Atlan said softly, making me frown at him as he stroked his finger across the designs of his goblet, "You need to learn to control it."
"And that's why I'm here," I stated. Atlan inclined his head.
"I brought you here to bring you back to health, to teach you to wield those powers in a way that you have control over them," he explained. I almost snorted at that. How convincing, but why go through all the trouble? Couldn't he just slap one of those collars on me to control me?
"Why?" I asked. Atlan smiled.
"You think I'm doing it to be kind and lure you to my side," and when I said nothing to that, Atlan chuckled, "A good deduction, but no. I understand your loyalty for the hybrid. Love, while carved from evil itself, is powerful. A powerful lock on loyalty." I frowned. What a jaded view of love he had, but who was I to judge him for viewing love as evil? I could agree to that.
"Then why?" I asked again. Atlan nodded.
"Because, if I am to face you as an enemy, I will face you at your full strength, not broken and injured." Now that seemed far too noble to be something Atlan would do.
According to Hannibal, amongst others, Atlan was anything, but noble. He murdered his own children, signed off on the death of one of his children's lovers, almost sold another one, raped and tortured another child, attacked Hannibal on multiple occasions. The guy was a sick psychopath in every sense of the word, and yet here he was, telling me he wouldn't attack me while I was weak because he wanted to face me at my full strength? He was really playing this game hard, but unfortunately for him that shit didn't play well with me.
I still wasn't throwing out the idea that he was doing all this to sway me.
"And the first step to ensuring your health," Atlan continued, making me raise an eyebrow, "Would be to feed you. Eat, Menoetius." I looked at the food, still suspicious. He did have a point, however. There was no point in poisoning me if he needed me, and drugging me would only further darken my opinion of him and ruin his chances at convincing me. In order for me to use my powers to help him, he needed to kiss my ass.
Not to mention, the cramping in my stomach was becoming unbearable now with the food sitting right in front of me, the sweet smell of cheese and olives coaxing me forward. I finally caved in and tried to be casual with my movements, but my hands were shaking so badly that I gave up and grabbed handfuls of food.
Before I knew it, I'd eaten the whole platter and downed the wine, suddenly feeling disgusted in myself, even though my stomach thanked me. I waited for Atlan to say something, but he said nothing. He was looking out at the ocean, his silver eyes darkened in concentration, probably to think of ways to convince me to join him, or convince me he was a nice guy.
Too bad he already had a lengthy rap sheet.
"So what now," I said at last, uncomfortable with the silence, "Are you going to just feed me and send me on my way? Somehow I doubt you're going to release the only playing piece you really need to win this war." Atlan's mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile, but he kept himself composed as he turned to me.
"I will feed you, train you, and mold you into the warrior you need to be. When I feel you're ready, I will allow you to choose between returning to Hannibal or remaining here." His words sounded sincere. I studied his face to see if he was lying, or playing some kind of game. He obviously thought he could get me to choose him over Hannibal, and I dared him to try it.
Still, I let him toy with the idea of a fantasy. The last thing I needed to do right now was piss him off. If I played along with his game, I'd not only be able to gather information for Hannibal, but bide my time until he let me go. While it all sounded too good to be true, I knew Atlan was going to put everything he had into trying to get me to stay by my own free will. That when, later on when I did ask to leave, he wouldn't... because it would have been my choice.
That was his game.
And I was happy to play. Too bad for Atlan he wasn't going to win.