Lorena sat cross legged in a plush armchair, her broken wrist cradled against her chest, watching the morning sunlight creep across the courtyard walls. Her body ached from the many old and few new injuries, every small shift causing her to groan.
Despite the injuries she did receive-such as a broken wrist as punishment for attempting to strike him-Lorena was quite surprised by how gentle Galbatorix had been in his latest torture. Instead of senseless beating and bodily harm he had worked more on psychological distress, little things that she didn't know were disturbing until she experienced them.
Her breath hitched when she felt him untie the lace of her dress. He pulled slowly on the precious material, drawing it from each loop with agonizing precision. Lorena squirmed slightly, and the arm pulled behind her back was pushed further upwards, causing Lorena to freeze. Her upper body lay forward on the bed, her feet barely touching the ground, while she waited to see what Galbatorix would do next. She jumped when the end of the green lace dropped on the bed in front of her face. The material fell slowly, folding on top of itself in a delicate flow. She had dared not close her eyes, so she watched the show the King was putting on for her. At last the other end of the lace fell and landed atop her nose, and she understood what he was doing. He had shown her she was powerless, that she did not even posses the authority to lift a piece of lace unless the King allowed it. And that terrified her.
She gasped and dug her fingers into the arm of the chair, attempting to calm her nerves. The thought of the night before-and the repeat that morning-caused her to tremble, and the taste of bile to rise in her throat. It's okay, she attempted to reassure herself, you're fine. Don't allow yourself to become upset, it's what he wants.
Despite knowing better Lorena was unable to fully calm herself, so she returned her attention to the sunlight. The room was not unpleasantly cold, a small amount of warmth exuded from the lanterns around the room, and all she needed was the coverage of a thin night dress she had found that morning to keep cool.
Lorena heard footsteps from the walkway before the bedchamber door was pushed open. She turned in her seat, expecting to see Galbatorix, but was surprised to see a middle aged man dressed in maroon robes. His head covered in close cropped brown hair, and his face was cleanly shaven. He shut the door behind him before looking at her with a disinterested glance. "I have been sent here to see to your wounds."
She studied him a moment before standing and holding out her broken wrist. He walked over to her, his robes swishing around him, then gently took hold of her arm to inspect it. He turned it over and clucked his tongue, then sandwiched her wrist between his palms and muttered in the ancient language. His palm did not glow as she had expected, but she did feel her bones slide back into placed and fuse together. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying out, and she concentrated so hard on trying not to wrench her hand free of his grip that she didn't notice her knees give until they hit the floor.
The magician cursed but managed to keep hold of her arm, when he did let go the pain was gone. Lorena struggled back to her feet and flexed her fingers, then rolled her wrist. It was healed.
"Thank you." she whispered.
"We're not done yet. I was informed you have burns too." He healed each burn on her arms before he indicated her dress. "I need you to remove that."
Lorena's lips pursed as she glared at him.
"I'm a healer," he snapped irritably, "I have a job to do. Now remove your clothing or I'll have to call for help to forcibly remove it. It's your choice."
Knowing that it would happen one way or the other Lorena slipped out of the night dress, letting it fall on the floor. Without hesitation the healer reached out and began healing the burns on her chest, stomach, then legs. To her surprise Lorena noticed him heal her multicoloured bruises, before he examined her back and healed a few injuries Lorena didn't know she had.
When he finished he informed her she may redress and he took his leave. Lorena stood alone in the bedchamber feeling surprisingly well. She looked out into the courtyard and noticed the sun had spread from the walls onto the ground, lighting up the water spraying from the marble dragons maws.
She began to make her way out into the courtyard when the chamber door opened. The same group of three women as yesterday entered and curtsied. She noticed one holding a tray with an assortment of food, the smell of the eggs made Lorena's mouth water.
"We brought you breakfast m'Lady." She looked her up and down, "Then we shall help you dress."
The women ushered her into an armchair and placed the tray of food on the table in front of her. The tray was piled with scrambled eggs, bacon strips, and toast. Her mouth dropped at the enormous amount of food.
"It's more than we would expect a lady to eat but I guess they're trying to put some weight on you. You are painfully skinny."
Lorena looked up at the woman who spoke and scrunched her nose. "It's hard to eat regularly when you're being chased down by Urgals."
The woman's mouth dropped open and her cheeks reddened. "Sorry, m'lady."
Lorena turned her attention back to her meal which she ate with her head down, attempting to ignore the women who stood silently against the wall of the room. She tore into the food, with no worry about how a lady would eat. Just over half way through Lorena was unable to eat anymore, she stared down at the meal, better than anything she had eaten in months, wanting to continue but afraid her stomach might burst.
She pushed the tray away, and the women came to her side. One made her way to the dresser and came back with underclothes and a yellow gown. Lorena striped out of the nightdress and allowed the women to help her into the clothing, then they slipped on a pair of canary coloured shoes. The women brushed her hair, then sat her back in an armchair and inspected her hands. One of the women pulled out a small pair of scissors and began trimming her nails, another removed her cuticles before filing and buffing the nails. When done the women curtsied, then left.
With nothing else to do Lorena walked out into the courtyard, then sat on the edge of the fountain. She sighed at the warmth of the sun and watched the fish swim lazily by. The water was pleasantly cool, so Lorena kicked her shoes off, and sat with her feet in the water. The fish inspected her, then she felt a tickle as they began to nibble at the hard skin on her soles.
* * *
Murtagh stood at the base of the dais, beside him stood his dragon, who had grown a third of his size overnight. Galbatorix rubbed his right thumb on the arm of the throne while he stared down at them. To the King's left a Twin stood on the steps, his hands behind his back.
"Shruikan strikes terror into the heart of our enemies. What we have here is a little red thorn. He will cause pain and destruction, but we can't forget that he is nothing compared to death itself." Galbatorix leaned back in his throne and stared down at them like children. "Thorn, a good analogy... a good name! There you are, Thorn."
Murtagh looked down at his dragon. He had considered many different names for him but had not yet had the opportunity to ask him what he liked. After travelling with Saphira for so long he knew from experience that dragon's were equals, and the idea of naming him like an inferior disturbed him.
"Now Murtagh, you have been brought here to swear your oath of fealty in the ancient language. Though first, you will tell me all that has happened to you since you left Urû'baen."
Murtagh shook his head, "I've already told you that I will not give you that information. I believe that I have made that quite clear."
"You will tell me now, or," Galbatorix motioned toward the Twin, "you will be persuaded."
Murtagh faced the Twin, "You don't seem to have hot iron or carving knife, and I'm not restrained to a stone slab, I'm surprised you're man enough to threaten me."
The Twin scowled, but Galbatorix's laugh echoed across the chamber. "You have a sharp tongue Murtagh, but it is not you that he has business with, but rather Thorn."
Thorn was looking at Murtagh, and he wondered if the creature understood what was happening. Murtagh went to step in front of him as he spoke, "You won't touch him."
Galbatorix growled a phrase-to quiet for Murtagh to hear-but he understood what it meant when his legs wouldn't move. He looked to Thorn who chirped unhappily. The Twin brought his hands out from behind his back, revealing a metal object, Murtagh strained himself to see it and realised it to be a pair of pliers.
"Will you tell me now Murtagh?" Murtagh looked up at Galbatorix, then gritted his teeth and shook his head, "Fine then. You may begin."
The Twin descended the stairs and made his way to the red dragon. Thorn chirped angrily at the Twin and swung his tail menacingly side to side, but his feet remained planted. Murtagh remembered the illusions Galbatorix had played on him. He remembered the children he had bonded with, he remembered teaching his son how to fight, and he remembered his lifeless eyes staring past him.
Light from the lanterns reflected off the pliers as the Twin held them out, he knelt at Thorn's side, where he was unable to be struck by fang or tail. He looked at Galbatorix who nodded his approval before taking a scale between the pliers.
"No!" Murtagh's harsh voice carried throughout the chamber, but the Twin tugged anyway. Thorn screamed as the scale came lose. The Twin grabbed a second scale and ripped with more enthusiasm, flesh was still attached to this one, and crimson blood began to drip. "No! You can't do this! He's a dragon, one of the last of his kind, you can't injure him."
"Oh don't dramatise, Murtagh." Galbatorix waved a hand in dismissal, "It's just a few scales, they'll grow back, and if they don't I will heal him. I will not have him physically impaired, but Murtagh, it's what will be done after this that you should be worried about."
Murtagh tore his gaze from Galbatorix and looked back at Thorn who cried pitifully as the Twin yanked a third scale lose. Memories flashed before his eyes, being informed his mother had died, the expression of his servant Tornac when he coped a knife in the back, Lorena screaming as the Twins sliced the flesh from her stomach, and the dead eyes of his three children.
"No." Murtagh whispered, his knees gave out and he would have fallen if not for Galbatorix's spell, "Not you too. I can't hurt you too."
"What was that Murtagh?" Galbatorix called down to him. "Do you submit?"
Murtagh shook his head, horrified by what he was doing. "I submit."