His eyes stayed frozen as another whip sound cracked through the dank walls of the dungeons. The stench of bitterness, isolation and punishment was palpable in the stale atmosphere.
The prisoner bellowed; an unearthly sound that could make human blood run cold, but he stood on the ground unfazed. Mercy and forgiveness seemed to evaporate in his proximity.
Another slash; another cry.
Blood seeped down the calloused back and shoulders of the mortal captive, pooling down near the foot of his.
His pitiless eyes scrutinized the blood as his nose scrunched up in disgust.
A mere mortal. Powerless fools to roam around the planet. Why don't they just cease to exist? That would certainly be a gift to the Dame Nature.
The slashes of the whip continued, so did the flow of the blood from the prisoner's frail body. The prisoner's cry, although, seemed to have died down a bit. From tiredness or weakness? He couldn't tell.
When the soldier, who was inflicting such unspeakable pain over the culprit, paused for a while to quench his thirst, he tsk-ed and walked away.
The soldiers and the guards on his way bowed their heads down showing him the utmost respect. Without even sparing them a glance, he stepped out of the prison cells.
His foot took him to the plain ground, where the winter sun glowed dimly and the cool, fresh mountain winds gently caressed his face and limbs.
Closing his fiery amber eyes, he basked in the warmth of the sun. He could feel it. Feel the heat through the thick layers of his expensive silk robes, then penetrate the layers of his skin and ignite the power that swirled through his veins. He could feel the temperature of his body rising after the time spends in the cold, soulless jail. Something burned behind his eyelids, he felt it.
His powers were resurfacing.
His palms burnt, sparks of fire danced on his fingertips. But they dare not slip. He was controlling them, not the other way around.
Goosebumps decorated his skin as he was aware of the inferno inside him, wanting to be unleashed and burn down everything in its wake. Like a wildfire, they would turn down the jungle in its vicinity into a few piles of ash.
His heartbeat increased, so did his pace of breathing. All these years, he had been taught to control it. To subside every kind of emotion that can overwhelm him.
For once he wanted this invincible strength of his to consume him, wholly.
The temperature of his body was going haywire, the blood thumping on the walls of his blood vessels and his heart going wild in the ribcage.
All the words of his Teacher to control his feelings were then a soft buzz somewhere in the back of his head.
Release it. Release it all.
The offer was tempting.
His mighty power was gaining control gradually like a piece of paper absorbing the water from the ground, bit by bit.
Something burned his palms. If any pair of eyes looked at him, they would see the blazing fire twirling around on his palms.
And then he heard the noises.
Somebody asking to get help.
Someone was shouting for buckets of water.
He was aware it was because of him. It always was.
Yet his eyes remained shut.
Don't worry.
"He wouldn't make it, bring more water. Go fast."
Unleash your wrath.
"Get Teacher! He'd know what to do."
They won't feel a thing.
"Wake him up, someone! The fire is getting out of control!"
And then, suddenly, the voice inside his head grew quiet. There was an eerie drop of temperature, even the heat behind his eyelids lessened. His heartbeat was calming down, so was his pulse.
Splash!
A handful of water was splashed on his face and his eyes flew open only to shut immediately because of the water.
"Mother." His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.
"What do you think you were doing, Aramis?" He could feel his mother's seething demeanour from at least five kingdoms.
He knew keeping his mouth shut would be a pretty logical thing to do. He didn't need his mother to lash out on him for his slip up. He was humiliated enough before the servants.
His arms were filled with goosebumps due to the sudden drop in temperature and his eyes wandered to see the burned land near him, which now had been covered in cold, strange ice.
Confusion was gnawing at his mind.
His blazing eyes looked up to find a pair of hard, steely blue ones look right back at him. He took in the features of the owner of those deadly orbs instantly.
The woman, probably a few years younger than him, was standing defiantly adorning a white blouse, a pair of leather pants and a black jacket. Her brown tresses were captured in what seemed like a death grip of a bun. High cheekbones and a button nose were what he noticed at first about her face, apart from her eyes. There was smugness in her barely-there smile.
And then there were her eyes.
Cold.
Glinting under the sun.
His mother cleared her throat as she introduced the girl.
"Aramis, meet Joan."
Joan... I've heard that name before.
"Your Highness," a mortal servant came running towards them. "Your Majesty demands your presence right away."
Queen nodded and dismissed him.
"You two might introduce yourselves. I'll be joining you both soon," Queen said with a smile. "And Aramis, behave."
He suppressed his urge to roll his eyes at his mother. He was not a child anymore.
"I'm Joan," the girl with icy eyes said as soon as his mother left.
There was something about her that he was forgetting... missing.
And something she obviously wasn't disclosing. He could read it in her smile.
Her smile was the kind where one was aware of the magician's trick. And yet decides to go with the act.
"I'm Aramis-"
"I know," she said. "The Prince who wears cruelty as his second skin."