A/N -- The song ya'll... it's so intense, I love it. Listen if you will. Editing will come later.
*some graphic content --proceed with caution*
The cell door opened. Rhalla Gwenneth was chained in the middle of the room, hands above her head. Her eyes were full of hell as she eyed her new visitor. Baron Riasion breezed in. Her weapons and armor had been taken away from her. She was now suited in white, transparent silks, and gods, did they look out of place. It hardly mattered. He'd done it to make a point. He looked her over, top to bottom.
"It's been a long time, little Cricket," he finally said. "The better part of two decades. I suppose you're not so little anymore, are you?"
Rhalla didn't humor him with an answer.
"You hardly look like yourself under all that muscle, you know? Packed on like some kind of ox. Oh girl, what have you done to yourself?" He stopped. "But it is you. Look at you. There's no way someone with your musculature would have breasts like that. Not naturally. Still round, still in their place. No, those are the modifications I had my medics add to you --to make you better. It's nice to see how well the material works in the long run, even when combated with your body type. You must like what I've done to you --you even kept the piercings." He dared poke one of the silver rings hanging from the peak of one of her breasts, to taunt her. "Added some to your eyebrow, even. And then," he pulled both bolts of the garment to the sides, revealing her chest. The baron ran his hands over her bare curves, and then moved down to the small tattoo right on her rib. 323, it read. "Cricket was number 323. So you must be the esteemed Rhalla." He grinned and stepped away, not bothering to cover her back up. "Welcome home, princess."
Rhalla had expected to be broken by this point. The moment they'd captured her, she'd expected to have an episode. When they'd stuck her in a cell, she'd prepared for it. But it hadn't happened. Right now, while she was fucking angry, she still had her wits about her. And now she stared down hell and kept a straight face. She drew strength from herself. If she could escape this place at thirteen; she could do it again. She would never stop trying. This time, she would not give into her fate.
"Look at that lovely face," Riasion went on. "Once you get your hair back and lose some of that muscle, you'll be as exquisite as a flower. A tall goddess. We'll have to cover up those tattoos, of course."
Rhalla raised a brow.
"You're quiet," the baron commented. "Nothing to say, then?"
She pursed her mouth, and didn't even look at him. She tried not to focus on the air permeating her thin clothes. She also tried to not focus on how absolutely exposed she was. Finally, she shut her eyes.
"No?" he asked. "Perhaps you'll have more to say to Miss Azabela. I've have my captain bring her in to you once he returns here." This caused Hench to look. "I hear she's beautiful and wild. Impossible to tame. I suppose I'll have that tested. I suppose you'll watch. Perhaps I'll let Dane watch."
Fury pounded in Rhalla's heart. It was the first emotion apparent on her face. That satisfied the baron. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he clutched her chin with a withered hand. "And then there's your sister." The baron stepped back and kicked a lever on the ground. The chains spun, turning Rhalla around. She tried to resist, but the wrought iron won. "Beautiful Iris. But she's so dangerous, isn't she? I had to hire someone special for her..." The baron undid the fabric at Rhalla's back. The gown fluttered to the floor, leaving her completely nude. "...a special assassin. A killer of kings. A ghost, in all regards. The most renowned murderer in Eldia --even beyond Eldia. How long do you bet it'll take before her heart stops beating?"
Rhalla clenched her teeth, but did not sob like she wanted. Tears escaped her eyes, especially when his hands touched her where only Azabela's had since she'd gotten out. Escape! Cricket begged inside. Rhalla tried to fog her mind over, to project her soul from her body. She knew what he was here to do. She couldn't get far enough.
"You had Captain Anderfail's son," the baron told her. "Perhaps you'll bear another child by the morrow."
The world went still. And then, the cell door opened.
"Father," came a male voice. It interrupted the touch. "I was told I'd find you here."
"My son." There was a semblance of something in Riasion's voice. A warmth, of sorts. One that scared Rhalla. What if they both...? No, she couldn't think of that possibility.
"Who's this?" came a question. "Another girl of yours?"
The lever was kicked again. Rhalla was turned to face them. The baron's son looked a lot like Riasion had fifteen years ago, except younger. Rhalla expected him to be around Iris's age. Likely younger. He looked her over, just as his father had. His body was smaller, almost lanky. He hardly looked like the tough men Hench remembered.
"This is Rhalla Gwenneth," came Riasion's conversational tone. "The Cricket I told you about years ago."
The son's eyebrow raised. "Is that so?" He offered a wicked grin after a second. "I hear she's magnificent."
"She was," the baron clucked in disapproval. "But look at how she's ruined herself. Tsk tsk. I'm not sure I could find anyone that would pay for her. Perhaps I should offer her up for free. Perhaps a package deal, with some of the other girls. I hear this one likes to fuck girls, anyway. It might be fun to watch."
"Ruined herself?" the son asked. "She's intriguing. I like muscles. They're rather seductive. Shows me that she cares about herself. I'm curious about her."
Riasion chuckled. "You think so?"
"I do."
"I don't pretend to understand your kinks. But if you want her, she's all yours. She's a quiet one. Hasn't spoken a word. I doubt she'll make any noise for you." Riasion stepped back. "Do you want her?"
"She will make noise," he replied. "And I do. I think she'd be a fun one. She looks like she'd fight back. I like it when they fight." The smile on his face made Rhalla sick to her stomach. "But I don't like going in where my father has. Feels all wrong." His eyes begged the baron. "Let me have her all to myself."
After a moment, Riasion nodded. "Only for you, my son. Take as long as you want. What did you need from me, by the by?"
"It's not so important anymore." He gave Rhalla a devil's smile.
"Very well."
The son nodded and waved his father off. "Well, if you don't mind." The father made a gesture, a sort of I'll leave you to it type thing, before smirking once more at Rhalla. Then, he left. The young man turned back to face Rhalla once the door slammed shut. She couldn't help it, she bucked against her chains as he approached.
Something made her stop fighting.
Suddenly, the son's malicious smile disappeared. In fact, his entire demeanor changed in the span of a second. Quietly, he walked up to the silks pooled on the floor. His hands were gentle as he slid them back over her skin. She felt as he tied the ribbons back. And then, his touch disappeared. His hands did not explore her. He said nothing else. The baron's son just stepped to the edge of the cell when she was recovered, and he squatted to his knees. He pretended to be suddenly interested with something on the floor. His eyes went from dark and sadistic to near innocent. Melancholy in a way that spoke of a young soul that had already seen too much horror.
When Rhalla understood, her eyes softened. She could breathe easy. This man didn't intend to hurt her. This man had saved her from... She inhaled, stopping the thought. She wished she could get him to unlock the door, to let her out. Rhalla realized that he'd likely done all he could do. There were a few moments of silence. Her first words in her cell were low. "Thank you."
He looked up at her with large eyes, but said nothing.
More silence.
Rhalla had to ask, "What is your name?"
"You should try and be quiet, or they'll know I'm not... raping you." Those words were very soft. When she kept watching him, he simply said. "I'm Nealon. Nealon Riasion."
----
Azabela was alone in her tent. The previous night had been the longest of her life. She didn't expect this one to be any different. She had her eyes shut tight, trying to zone out the horror of the world. What were they doing to her Rhalla? Gods, if only she could walk. There was a vicious anger in the hollow pit of her stomach.
Iris would get her out. Iris would get her out. She kept telling herself that.
There was a sound in her tent. Or so she thought. It could've been outside. It was fucking hard to tell which sounds were coming from where anymore with one deaf ear. She still hadn't gotten used to it. Azabela assumed it was one of the medics coming to check on her. They usually were the only ones awake in the middle of the night.
A hand made of metal touched her shoulder. At the contact, her lids barely opened. Hard, black eyes stared down at her. Azabela's eyes then shot wide open. This was ...the captain, snarling at her. In her tent. How had he gotten here? The huntress opened her mouth to scream, but as soon as it opened, he shoved a rag in her mouth, choking out any sound.
Her body went into attack mode, but it was weak. He held it down with another hand on her sternum. Azabela watched in fighting horror as he jumped up beside her on the bed. Without wasting a breath, he switched his hand for his knee. With the rag in her mouth and the heavy pressure on her chest, it was suddenly hard to breathe.
He waited -watched her struggle for air. She clawed at his armor, but her hands did nothing against its forged steel. She felt herself of the verge of unconsciousness very soon. Her vision was full of black blots, and she was so dizzy. At the nausea, she panicked. She was dying! She was dying!
Would he stay there until she died? Would he wait for her to black out and carry her away for a worse punishment yet?
Captain Anderfail watched her face go pale. Nearly there, and he could just carry her out. He frowned. His arm was still shit from where the guardian master had shoved a guisarme through it. Carrying someone, even to his horse, would be no easy task.
And then, there was a bright explosion of pain. Right in the back of his head, knocking him right off Azabela Stryder. She gasped wildly for her breath at the release of the pressure. The captain stumbled onto his feet. He turned in time to be met with another crushing blow, right to the temple.
Dane Gwenneth had come quietly to check on his other mother. He had meant for his steps not to wake her. And because of that, the captain had not heard him come in. Dane had caught Anderfail attacking his mother. Suddenly, his moment had come. Right out of the blue, his moment had come. Dane had then reared his muscled arm back as far as it could go and knocked the fucking hell out of his skull. Once. Twice. By the third time, Captain Anderfail faced his son by blood.
Looking into those black eyes, his own black eyes, filled Dane with absolute rage. Suddenly, he was stronger than even a mountain. The adrenaline hatred fueled through another swing. The captain went for his sword when Dane's fist bludgeoned his nose. Due to his recent injury, the captain's reflexes hadn't even allowed him time to pull out Sentence.
Dane didn't care if his opponent had been caught by surprise -didn't care that Anderfail wasn't full strength. He didn't care if it wasn't honorable, he kept swinging. The captain still stood, albeit stunned. Dane remembered his mother's nightmares. He remembered her episodes -her depression. He remembered that this man had raped his mother at twelve years old. And when he remembered that, he threw his entire large body at Anderfail, and carried him to the floor still throwing punches.
Captain Anderfail could barely see through the haze, but he knew somewhere in his mind who was doing this. He opened his mouth to say something, but another blow knocked teeth and blood from his mouth. Finally, Anderfail got in his own hit to Dane's gut, causing him to cough and lose some steam.
Anderfail tried to throw him off, but Dane had learned long ago from his mother how to recover. With all the might in his body, Dane rolled back on top of the captain, letting his big ass body do the holding for him. With a grunt and no hesitation, both of his hands went to Anderfail's throat, squeezing it tight against the ground.
The captain couldn't fight properly, his hands were pinned down by Dane's large legs.
Anderfail knew he was going to die. If the captain had have seen it coming, there would have been no chance for Dane Gwenneth. The surprise was the thing, and it was over. The injury was also the thing, and so it went. Like Azabela, his head started spinning from lack of breath.
There was no way he could hurt Dane physically, not in this position. But he could hurt Dane in other ways. And so he would. If he was to die, he would do it as spitefully as possible.
Dane watched Anderfail struggle for air. But then, right on the cusp of unconsciousness, the captain stopped fighting, smiled a vicious smile, and spoke the best that he could. The words were choked, barely audible, but Dane and Azabela understood them all the same.
"My legacy lives yet," the captain stared directly into his attacker's matching eyes for emphasis. "Dane Anderfail."
The captain then blacked out, seized madly, and finally, stopped breathing forever. His eyes lost their harsh light.
All the while, Dane felt the beginning of a sickness -a haunting-that would last forever. A haunting that came with knowing, evil or not, he'd murdered his own blood-kin, his biological parent, with his bare hands. A haunting that came with knowing that, no matter what, he would always be half monster.