First, I want to say thank you to all of my new followers (and the pre-existing ones ofc!!) I can't wait to share more with everyone! Enjoy! *kiss*
@badthingshappenbingo
Prompt: Bound and Gagged
Fandom: Original Work
TWs: Captivity, mentions of torture, mentions of needles (nonsurgical). If I ever miss any, let me know and I can always add them! XX
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The man was perhaps only a few years older than Leera. His build was thin and lean, his height towering the assassin's. Even if Leera was at full strength, she wasn't sure she could fend him off. Sir Robson trained her to be stealthy. That wasn't so easy when the man constantly had an eye on her, even had her leashed.
The leather on Leera's neck was uncomfortable, even more so when there was a metal ring attached to the back of it where a chain was attached, linking her to the man walking her.
So many times the assassin felt vicious words about to spew out of her, but in all honesty, it was better than the treatment she received from Queen Rennera. Leera was afraid that if she complained to her captor then he might make things worse, and she was in no condition to fight him. The assassin's strength was in her legs. If she could knock the man down, she might be able to wrap the chain attached to her ankles around the man's neck. The problem was that her legs wore sore, exhausted. And anyway, there was no way to knock him down.
Leera was forced to walk in front of the man, who she wished desperately to know the name of, forced to stay ahead so she was unable to try a thing. Even if she were close enough to knock him down, perhaps by tripping him, he would be up too quickly for her to be able to lower herself to the ground without hurting herself. Her hands being tied behind her back with thick rope meant she wouldn't be able to maintain balance, especially since she would already be using her legs. Attacking wasn't an option.
"You're aware who you're doing this for, yeah?" the assassin called over her shoulder. She didn't turn her eyes away from the path for fear she might trip over a tree root or slip in a puddle of mud.
The chain created a wave from the man's hand to Leera's neck before yanking tightly back. She jolted and staggered before continuing their walk. "I'm very aware, scum." The word scum sounded odd coming from his lips, like he was unsure of even using it.
"Then tell me who." Another wave and tug. This wave was larger, causing the assassin to duck her head forward to avoid another shock. When the man was done nonverbally berating her for speaking, she spoke again. If she couldn't fight him to get away, maybe she could convince him to release her. "Tell me how generous you think she is, how much she truly cares for the people of her kingdom, how much she delights when her pets lick at her feet. The queen doesn't care about you, nor anyone."
The man gave a dry laugh. Leera felt a pull at the back of her neck, a small one, just barely noticeable, but then there was another pull. She stopped walking, turned her head back. Her eyes latched to the man's hands. He was coiling the chain around his neck coming closer and closer, step by step, circle of chain by circle of chain. The assassin felt a pit in her stomach. Maybe talking was worse than trying to fight. At least she had some kind of chance if she knocked the man down. Insulting the man's beliefs about his queen...what was she thinking?
With a hand hovering at the back of Leera's head, the man smiled down at her. The other hand wrapped behind her as well and he gathered the assassin's raven hair in one hand before pulling it in front of her left shoulder. Leera swallowed as the man coiled the chain in his hand one last time, resting his fingers and the metal against the skin of her neck. "Look at me," he told her. Her eyes had been darting between his eyes, passed his shoulders, and to the fabric on his chest. It was in tatters, the shirt, she realized.
"Look at me," he repeated, his fingers digging ever so slightly into her skin. Leera grimaced, but looked into his eyes finally, not glancing away again. He brought the hand that moved her hair to her cheek, placed his fingers beneath her ear, thumb across her cheek bone. It was difficult not to look away. "I know the queen doesn't give a damn. She's calloused-" Like you, Leera thought. "-and only cares about shoving your pretty face in a pail of sewing needles." The assassin's eyes darted again.
A pail of sewing needles? Was that better or worse than a night in the king's coffin? Of course it's better, morally. But gods, that pain... Leera could see herself in that moment, in the dark dungeons, moist walls and floor, cold and deserted. She could picture herself on her bruised knees, arms tied back, a guard pushing her head down into a shining metal bucket, her skin being poked and scraped, torn apart as badly, but more consistently, as when the queen dragged a nail down her face. The assassin even heard her own pleas, then felt the needles poking her tongue, scratching her teeth as she begged. The man's thumb stroked her cheek; Leera peered into his eyes again.
"I never knew the queen. I don't think anyone ever did until you killed the king. Praise you for it," he said and Leera's eyes widened. "He was terrible; we all knew it, all experienced it in one way or another." The man's thumb stopped stroking Leera's cheek. "Didn't get better when the queen took the throne. If anything it got worse. She doesn't care, I know, but she's wealthy and she wants you. I'd like to live-" So would I. "-and if the only way to do that is to turn you in- well then- I have to do it." His hand fell from the assassin's face. The chain grew heavier to Leera as he uncoiled the metal from his hand, letting it droop. "Turn," he demanded.
"You can't take me back to her," Leera said. "Please. Please." Her voice was soft, scared.
"Turn." The man's voice went cold, distant, uncaring, opposite of what it had been just moments before.
With one tear following another, the assassin swiveled slowly on a heel, her back now facing her captor. For a minute, her heart leapt, not out of fear, but of joy. He was undoing the rope at her wrists. He was releasing her! But then she heard the shrill sound of a dagger being pulled from its sheathe, followed by the sound of rope being cut. The rope never fully left her wrists; he only unbound it partially before cutting a piece off, and before re-tightening the rope still bounding her.
His hands were in front of her eyes in the next moment, along with a string of rope. "Open, he said.
"What?"
"Your mouth," he specified. "Open it."
"No. No, please don't. It'll be all I have left. Please." He couldn't take her voice on top of everything else. "I won't speak the rest of the trip. I won't," she insisted. Still, the rope hovered in front of her eyes. Leera shook her head and stepped away, her back meeting the man's chest. His heart was beating quickly against her body. He didn't want to do this as much as she didn't want him to.
The rope was nearing her mouth, cutting the air as it came closer, with more speed, more determination. As it approached, just inches away, Leera sucked in her lips. The rope pressed firmly against them. "If you don't open your mouth," the man warned, "I will make you swallow a piece before I tie it around your head." For extra measure, he released the rope with one hand and brought it to the assassin's chin, squeezing tightly at her jaw until she gave, opening her mouth as widely as she could if only to stop the pain he was causing. He slid the rope between her teeth, pulling it back and commanding her to shut her jaw. Then he tied it tightly enough that the corners of Leera's mouth were pulled back as well. There was hardly any room to move her tongue. She was- literally- rendered speechless.
This was how the trip remained. Leera was bound at the wrist, chained at the ankle, and leashed at the neck. Her tongue was pushed back, unable to move. The assassin could only groan and mumble- not hum, as her lips couldn't touch. The man only ever said one more thing, just as they made it to the front doors of Queen Rennera's palace. "Be sure to scream on your own," he told the assassin, "Or else I'll have to make you scream for a reason."
Tw: character getting slapped, threats of torture,
******
Leera woke up screaming. She wished it were the queen's fault that her throat was sore as her eyes opened and she jumped into consciousness. It wasn't.
The assassin's breathing was quick and shallow and she broke into sobs that felt like they could gorge holes into her body worse than the heretic's fork collar.
She didn't bother looking for Sir Guard to see his reaction, or even to make sure the queen wasn't soaking up her despair. Leera only let the tears fall, soaking into her raggy clothing, let them clean away any dry blood they came into contact with.
Eventually Sir Guard did come over to the sobbing assassin on the cell floor. He said nothing, only put a hand beneath her back and urged her to sit up. There was no way she could breathe the way she was sniffling and Sir Guard figured that laying down couldn't possibly help that problem.
Her body had been limp, heavy, but she didn't resist as her guard guided her into a seated position. She did, however, continue to cry. At one point she squeezed her eyes shut, trying her best to rid the image in her head.
It wasn't often that Leera dreamt of her father's death. It wasn't often that her brain conjured a random man's voice to make up for her father's, whose voice she'd forgotten. When it did happen, it was always miserable and he was always dying. He was being hurt and tortured until death, just how it was said he'd been in real life, only Leera's brain liked to venture into forms of torture she never knew existed.
"I never want children," the assassin muttered with a sniffle following.
Sir Guard hummed. "Why's that?"
"Because I'm afraid she would be a third generation of Unfortunates."
He didn't respond to the part Leera imagined he would. "So you would like to have a girl if you had a kid at all." It wasn't a question.
"I guess I would."
"You said you would."
"Not directly."
He shrugged. "Didn't have to. Some people don't care to read into words and wordings. I do, and you told me you don't want a daughter to suffer the life you and a parent of yours has."
Leera sniffled again. A sting returned in her eye, letting her know she needed a second round of sobs. She didn't want to cry again. She didn't want to the first time.
Sir Guard regarded her carefully, taking several steps towards her after having retreated when sitting the assassin up earlier. He knelt in front of Leera, touched her cheek and barely pushed on it, a signal for her to tilt her chin back. She complied. "Do they still hurt? The puncture marks?"
"They've healed by now," she explained, "Only scabs. If I scratched and reopened them it'd hurt, but otherwise I hardly notice them anymore."
"Good," Sir Guard said. The next thing he spoke as he let go of her cheek baffled the assassin. "You always ask who I am. I want to know who you are."
"It's no fair you get to ask and expect an answer if I can never get one from you."
"I'm a prince," he replied easily.
Leera laughed. She laughed and laughed, and by the end of her laughter, she felt an ache in her chest. This time she was thankful it wasn't the pain from the forked collar. "Fine, don't tell me then."
He smiled. Leera lost what little breath she had left. Teeth, she thought. They're how I imagined. "You asked who I am. I just told you."
Gathering herself back together, she scoffed, "You're not a prince."
"Why can't I be? I'm Rennera's future king, aren't I?"
"Well- well yeah. But-" The assassin shook her head. "But I would know if it were- if a prince had-had been guarding me this whole time, who-who had captured me in-in the woods." Leera paused. "I would know," she declared, but it was far from confident. "You're joking with me and it's cruel. Stop it."
"So you won't tell me who you are."
"I'm an assassin. That's all."
"An assassin who does, but doesn't want a daughter because she believes she's cursed."
"I never said I thought I was cursed."
He reminded her, "Didn't need to. It's in the wording."
Leera was slightly annoyed. What was Sir Guard playing at? First he conversed Leera's having a child, a daughter. Then, he asked who she was as if he didn't already know. She was an assassin, and well- it seemed like he'd already figured out her past. And not only this, but he was calling himself a prince. How dare he kid Leera like that?
"I take it you were dreaming of whichever parent went through your same situation now?"
"Wording?" Leera asked.
Sir Guard nodded. "I guess I just like using context clues. You woke up screaming and sweating, and the first thing you said was that you didn't want children. Basic deduction."
The assassin squinted. "Are you a general, a commander?"
"In some way, yeah. I told you what I am."
"You lied."
"I didn't." He looked her straight in the eye. Without wavering, he said, "I wasn't lying."
Leera huffed. "You can't be. You can't be a damned prince."
"Why not?"
She shook her head. She would get a cramp in her neck if she kept doing that. "Because," she said like it was obvious, though she realized she had little to no reasoning. Fine. It's fine. I'll just wing it. "Because you- Because! You refuse to be the queen's husband. Why would a prince be here if they weren't marrying? Why would they capture runaway assassin prisoners and return them to queens they hated?" Finally with full confidence, Leera stated, "You're not a prince. How's that for your deductive reasoning?"
Sir Guard shrugged. "I would be impressed-" There was a sound of footsteps, a clack clack clack. It was the queen. "I'm sorry," Sir Guard said, "If I weren't so close to you I'd have time to get back to my spot."
"What do you-" He slapped her. Hard and right across the cheek he had tenderly touched earlier. Leera gasped and put a hand over her cheek. It stung badly enough that her eyes teared up.
The cell door creaked open and sure enough Queen Rennera stepped through. She clapped as she always did when she saw her greatest prisoner. But a look of confusion crossed her face. "What are you doing so close to her, my future king?" She didn't seem angry, just utterly baffled.
Sir Guard stood up from his kneel and threw a hand in Leera's direction. She flinched away instinctively. "The assassin wouldn't shut her trap so I took action."
"Strange," the queen said. "She usually only ever speaks when I'm doing something to her. What was she going on about, I wonder?"
"Complaining. Her chest and chin still hurt."
"Oh, how unfortunate for her that I am bored today."
Leera remained still on the floor as to not provoke the queen. She was grateful for her guard's lie. Leera hadn't complained about her marks at all, she only ever groaned when they hurt, but they didn't hurt anymore. He'd even asked if she was still in pain. She wasn't, but he said she was to the queen to save them both some misery.
"Your Majesty, forgive me if I am speaking out of place, but I would be appreciative if you gave her at least another day." He casted a glance at Leera. "She has been terribly annoying. If you put her through any more then I know she will never shut up."
"I could cut out her tongue?"
The assassin couldn't help the whimper that rose in her throat. The thought of- of what the queen suggested was too horrific to fathom.
"And prevent her from ever begging?" Sir Guard shook his head. "I don't mind her voice. It's the complaining I cannot stand." He added, "And anyways, wouldn't you think it is more fun to break her down after being fully restored? What's a better sense of false hope than that?"
Rennera hummed highly. "I suppose that's a good point. If she hurts enough that she's complaining though...that means several days longer of wasting away untouched. Ah!" Her hand came up suddenly, a finger pointed at the ceiling. "You hit her, yes? That is why her face is flowery?"
Flowery, Leera wanted to scoff. What a polite way of saying my cheek is bruising.
Sir Guard nodded.
The queen clapped excitedly. "Good, good. You shall do it again. When she complains that it hurts, you will strike her until she stops. Eventually she'll deal with the pain silently and when she does, we'll know that pain isn't so unbearable that we can't put her through something else." Rennera looked to her prisoner on the floor. "Do you have any objection, my dearest assassin?"
Leera swallowed, said nothing.
Rennera repeated herself and Leera looked at Sir Guard, weighing her options.
If she accepted, her guard would be forced to strike her more often and she knew he wouldn't want that. He would do it to protect her- for whatever reason she still didn't know- from the queen's personal torments.
If she refused the idea, she would be maimed and broken now rather than later, but Sir Guard wouldn't be forced to do something he didn't want to do. He felt badly enough about Leera's position. She had no doubt he would apologize again for slapping her when the queen left.
"What will you do to me if- if you take me today?" she asked Rennera.
The queen smiled, "Telling you would defeat the purpose of our goal, wouldn't it?"
Apologize to the king. Leera could apologize easily, but it was the truthfulness the queen wanted that she couldn't give. The torture was pointless. It only made Leera apologize to the queen instead of the dead king. So agreeing to be hurt by Rennera was pointless for Leera when she could opt out of it, but...it wasn't pointless to Sir Guard who would otherwise be forced to harm her.
"I'll take it. Whatever it is, I'll take it."
Sir Guard's face dropped into despair. Why? it asked. Why would you commit yourself to this when you had a choice not to?
Leera wanted to say back, You've done enough for me. Now I'm doing something for you.
"Good," the queen purred. "Good. But before then, I would like to reward my future king for his duties."
Ahaha. I decided to start writing a story at 2am. Ma bad. I also decided, that with this prompt, that I would revisit my dear assassin (Leera), and Her Wicked Majesty (Rennera)! I'm using mobile so I can't navigate the app in order to add the links to previous stories of these two, but if you search Leera on my page, then scroll to the bottom, you should find the first installment of my assassin and queen!
@badthingshappenbingo
Prompt: Bounty on their head
Fandom: Original Work
Tws: mentions of past trauma, claustrophobia, drowning, suffocating, scar, captivity, mention of contemplated suicide (to escape torture)
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By some miracle, Leera was able to escape the queen's clutches. Maybe it wasn't a real miracle. The assassin had the vaguest feeling that the guard watching her that night left the door unlocked on purpose, fell asleep right outside of that very door with intent as well. After all, Leera remembered him from the day Queen Rennera demanded she be nailed in the dead king's coffin. Leera shuddered at the memory, at the buzzing in her ears from flies, at the feeling of a cold body beneath her own warm one, at the too-close confinement of the casket.
She shook her head. She couldn't let herself be trapped in the memories of her torment. But even as she reminded herself not to think about it, she touched the dipped line on her face where the queen had dragged her sharpest nail, drawing blood and creating a scar on the assassin's face. Stop it now! Leera commanded herself.
Focus on your goals. There was only one goal anymore, and that was to live. It was more difficult of a task than Leera would have ever thought. She'd lived in the woods almost all of her life, hunting small creatures and cooking them over self-made fires. Smoke was never a worry before because she also never worried about being found. There was never a bounty on the assassin's head. Of course, this was because she'd never been caught. If someone found her in the woods, they simply found a young looking girl, traveling on her own, living the best she could. They never knew Leera was an assassin. The situation was different now.
Being caught by the queen was the worst thing to happen to Leera. It could have been avoided, she knew. How stupid I was, she scorned herself mentally. Her legs ached as she walked through the woods now, covering her tracks as she went- or as well as she could, which wasn't well. How long was she in Rennera's grip? Was it only days? Weeks? It couldn't have been for more than a month. Did I escape yesterday? Or was that this morning? She didn't know. Gods, she had no clue. If I hadn't taken the cloth from my face, hadn't told those villagers my name...none of this would have happened. Leera didn't consider that never being an assassin to begin with might have saved her from torment. To her, she was always meant to do this. It was what Sir Robson, her trainer, told her anyway.
Leera was lucky in some great aspect. There were already posters pinned to trees where she walked. Having posters with her face printed on them saying, "Wanted: Alive and Screaming." And at the bottom, a promise of great reward for the assassin's return. It wasn't quite a bounty by Leera's own definition. A bounty was a job which she took up by taking another's life. Her definition changed as she was currently being hunted. A bounty was impeding doom.
At that moment she swore she felt a tug at her scalp. Leera stiffened and swallowed, closing her eyes before reaching up to the spot where she believed a hand would be clasping her hair. A sigh rushed out from Leera's lips as she felt nothing. Still, her chest heaved rapidly.
Constantly, the assassin found herself looking over her shoulder, cursing the footprints she made in the mud. There was no way of avoiding the evidence she left. Leera wasn't a squirrel who could hop from tree to tree. If only, she thought. If only.
On a bright side, the posters of her face already being posted meant that the guards of the palace had already been here. The chance they would be back before nightfall was unlikely. Leera's bounty already being present here meant she had a longer amount of time to remain free.
A part of the assassin knew she would be caught again. The queen lured her into a trap the first time. It was smart, calculated, but Leera couldn't be caught that way again and Rennera knew that. Instead, now, the queen would never stop her hunt until her assassin was captive once again.
I should end it now, Leera thought. If I die now, I can't be hunted. I won't have to be fearful anymore. Death was more fitting than the horrors Queen Rennera made the assassin endure. But death was still as equally terrifying. If someone else held a dagger at her heart, she might not have fought back. Holding a dagger to her heart herself...she could never do it, could never submit that way. It was pitiful. Leera would never allow herself to die by her own blade.
Crack! Was it a leaf crunching beneath a rabbit- or was it a twig cracking beneath the weight of a foot soldier, or a bounty hunter? Leera paused, not shifting a single bit of her weight as her eyes peeked as far right and as far left as they could. She saw nothing. The assassin twisted her head until her chin was almost passed her shoulder, peering behind her one way and then the other. Crack, crunch, crunch.
It occured to Leera now that even if she was willing to pull a dagger on her heart, she didn't have one. Her only weapon was a stick lying by her foot. If whatever was near was a soldier, it would snap against their armour. She tried to control her breathing at the realization, but it wasn't so easy.
The assassin's chest was tightening, ribs peeling back so far, it felt, that her heart visibly beat against her chest. Her shoulders were shaking. The tremble traveled down the rest of her arms, into her palms and fingertips. Leera's legs were beginning to shake as she stood on rocking grounds. As she looked down at her legs, she could imagine the mud she was planted in rising, up and up, until it touched her lips just as she took a gasped breath, to her nose as she sucked in what tiny ounce of air she could still fit, to her eyes as she closed them. Soon, she would no longer be able to hold the breath. It would be gushed out and when she tried to breathe in again, her throat would be coated with the icky water dirt, thick and suffocating. It would fall into her lungs, filling them up like a fish bowl. Was suffocating better than the queen's torment?
The mud rose to her ears, seeping into her channels. Was it possible for liquid to travel from her ears down into her throat? It didn't matter the true reality of things. She felt it, no matter how imaginary it was. The mud was flowing through her ears, falling onto the back of her tongue, causing her to gag. She coughed, choked, clutched her throat. Rather than mud filling her throat, strict horror did instead. Was that leather around her throat? Leera opened her eyes, screamed with all the air she couldn't feel in her lungs.
A hand pushed harshly against her lips. Another pushed against the back of her skull. The two hands pushed on either side, creating a high pressure throughout her whole head. Leera touched the calloused hand on her mouth. The man in front of her shook his head. The assassin dropped her hands immediately. She wouldn't have the strength to fight. Queen Rennera made sure of that. Leera wasn't so exhausted, though, that moans of fear weren't made against the man's hand. Tears slid down her face until they met the man's skin as well.
"Shush, now, beautiful." His smile was perhaps the deadliest thing about him, not not the sword at his side, or even the sharp jawline of his that looked just as sharp as the blade. It was those teeth. Their presence was as terrifying as anything. Perhaps if Leera was the one to have caught the face of a bounty then she would be smiling, too. It was different when she was the face on the posters. "You may scream when I take you back to Her Majesty."
It's been a long while since I had a whump scene with Leera, but here we are.
TWs: Torture, mentions of death (of briefly mentioned character), mention of past abuse, nonconsensual touching towards end (brief mention), <-straddling ...(If I miss any lmk!)
Tag list: @tears-and-lilies
******
If wouldn't have mattered how long Sir Guard spoke; the queen wouldn't sleep until she hurt Leera. Rennera wouldn't say what she would do to her prisoner, but she did say Sir Guard wouldn't want to be there if he didn't torture. He would be there, whether he liked it or not; Leera wouldn't want to be alone. Or would she? Maybe she would be embarrassed if he were there.
It was too late to turn back now. Sir Guard was behind Rennera on the stairs to Leera's cell. If he turned back now... It would be cowardice to sleep in another room, away from the assassin who he was responsible for. He was the reason she was there. Sir Guard felt he needed to see Leera's torture, if not to make her feel better, then to punish himself.
"Knock, knock, my dearest assassin," the queen chuckled with high pitched hums. Sir Guard couldn't wrap his mind around the change in demeanor. Just earlier she had been talking about how she hated to hurt Leera, and any prisoner. She had just been talking about the abuse she went through, but now she was back to a sadistic torturer. How quickly she changed...then again, she had been silent the entire way from Sir Guard's room to the dungeons. She must have been preparing.
Leera whined like a dog preparing to be kicked by an abusive owner. Sir Guard had to look away from her before he did something he might have regretted more than what he'd already done. He turned his attention to the door, which he shut before taking up his usual space next to it. Sir Guard stared at the wall across from him. He hated that he couldn't plug his ears in order to stop hearing the assassin's harsh breathing.
"I have company in a few days," Rennera began to explain. "My conferences didn't go as expected so they will be visiting our great home. I'd like for you to be by my side." She spun on a heel to face Sir Guard. "You, too, my future king." He raised his brows. His lips parted, as well. Before he could say anything, the queen continued. "My assassin needs prepped in a particular way. I'm afraid you might coax my visitor's minds into helping you escape and I can't have that."
The assassin shook her head wildly. Sir Guard couldn't help but watch the panic on her face, the panic he ultimately caused. "I wouldn't. I won't. I promise I won't."
"Now, now." Rennera took lingering steps toward her captive. She bent at the waist, raising a sharpened nail to Leera's face. The assassin's eyes squeezed shut as she turned her head away in a series of small, nervous jerks. "You already agreed for our little session today. Best not to make it worse for yourself by begging, no?"
She nodded against the nail which barely touched her, but was still frightening nevertheless. Leera muttered a tiny, almost unheard, "Okay."
Sir Guard believed what all the queen had told him now. Even after the character change he witnessed, he believed her. She sounded evil, the way she suggested the assassin not beg, but it was that that Sir Guard caught onto, the piece that let him know Rennera really hated to hurt the assassin. She didn't want Leera to beg because that made it harder for her to pull through.
"Guard-" Sir Guard's attention snapped up if only because he was used to the assassin's nickname. He was fond of the name 'Sir Guard' now, though he felt bad that he never told Leera his real name. He almost did once before he came up with his best friend's name. "I need you to follow me. Bring the assassin. If she doesn't walk on her own, you drag her."
You're only saying that to prove your worthiness to your guard. But Rennera was a queen. Most people would have thought just owning the title would be enough. Sir Guard knew better. In some aspect he knew Rennera was doing the right thing, just as he had in some way; it didn't mean he liked her any more. He despised her as much as himself.
"Come, darling." The queen's black dress tailed her, dragging across the stone floor.
The other guard waited on Sir Guard with a bored expression. He quickly realized the queen was calling him darling. He shook his head, blinked a few times, and followed. It was difficult not to turn his head back to look at Leera who walked behind him.
"I can walk her," Sir Guard said, speaking to the man even further behind him than Leera. He turned his head just barely enough that he could see a little bit of the wall in his peripherals. It was safer Leera walk with him than the other guard. He seemed much more callous- certainly willing to drag her if she walked too slow like she nearly was.
"Her Majesty ordered me to walk her."
"She'll walk faster with me, and the queen hates waiting. I can hear her opening the door on the top step already. We're behind." He added. "And if you have not noticed, I am having to speak louder than I'd like because you and the prize are so behind."
To his surprise, it was Leera who responded. She gasped and the sound of footsteps ceased. "Please don't," she blurted and the guard behind her hummed in confusion.
"Keep walking."
"No, no, no. Please, you can't let him walk me. I'm going." But she wasn't moving.
"Walk. Now."
Leera continued to cry, unmoving on the stairs. What was she doing? Was she really afraid that Sir Guard would take over and hurt her? Was she scared of him now because he slapped her? She must not have trusted him anymore. Sir Guard reckoned he deserved it.
"Please," Her voice raised to a wail. Her body hit the hard stairs as the guard pushed her down.
"If that's not what you want, it's what you'll get," the guard said.
Then it struck Sir Guard. She was acting out because she wanted to be lead by him. It wasn't that she didn't trust him. It was that she did. Leera felt safe with him. Before he could smile, he gruffly demanded her, "Up, now. Let's go."
She scrambled passed him on all fours before standing and beginning to walk. She gave him no trouble, acted as if she were afraid stepping wrong would upset him. Her acting skills were coming along well.
The assassin turned her head once- before they could approach the queen- and mouthed a thank you, to which Sir Guard gave a long blink. He couldn't nod or else the man behind him would know something was going on.
Even if the queen didn't like hurting Leera, Sir Guard couldn't let her know that he cared for the assassin at all. If he showed that, Rennera would be forced to take action, and then neither he, nor Leera, would ever have a chance at leaving the palace.
Rennera tutted as she spotted Leera, then Sir Guard, and finally the other. "I don't suppose there were problems, my dearest assassin? It took you quite a while." She looked at her own dress, suggesting she should have been the slow one.
Sir Guard actually heard the assassin swallow. He said, "She only needed a little coaxing, Your Majesty. I think her fear in my presence merits enough as any amount of added punishment."
"Of course," was all the queen said in return.
The door was already open. Rennera stepped passed the threshold and the others followed her. Leera's harsh breathing was getting worse with every step. Sir Guard was afraid- but also hopeful- she would pass out before the queen could torment her.
He wondered what would happen if Leera did pass out first. Would the treatment be worse or better? It was hard to tell. On one hand- if she passed out- she wouldn't feel anything and it might be harder to tell when the queen should stop, so she might stop early. But this could also be the same reason that she hurt Leera more. Without the cries, Rennera might accidentally overdo it. The latter would be great for the queen, terrible for the assassin.
As the four of them walked across the royal rug of the throne room to another door and staircase, Sir Guard pondered further. This time, he thought about something the queen had mentioned earlier.
A hiccup in her meeting amongst the kings and generals of other kingdoms. They must not have believed she was worth her word and that was why she was so persistent now in fixing Leera up. It was an extra measure to assure others viewed her like her husband.
What did this all mean to him? Well, Rennera only ever referred to him as her 'future king'. He never had the confidence or preparation to tell her he didn't want to marry her. He would marry her if it kept Leera safe, or as safe as she could be. Sir Guard couldn't stop her from hurting, but he could at least be there to comfort her afterwards. If he refused Rennera when the time came, he couldn't be there. Maybe he could, but not in the way he needed to be. He would be no help to Leera if he was whipped until he was motionless and unconscious.
Sir Guard wondered what this next meeting would look like. The queen clearly had the intention of broadcasting Leera. How would he be shown though? Would Rennera demand he stay silent, be a puppy dog at her side to make her seem like a master of authority? Or would she expect him to be as evil as she was to Leera?
A door opened. The queen and crew flooded in. Two torches alongside the same wall as the door lit the room with flickering light. Various wooden tables scattered the open room, each with different...supplies on them. Most of which were metal. Most of which were stained various shades of red. Sir Guard felt as if one of those tools were pinching his lungs. He swallowed.
It felt selfish to think that he couldn't stay and watch. That feeling of selfishness was what made Sir Guard stay though. He needed to be here, in this...this Torture Room for Leera. And anyways, what kind of future king would he be if he couldn't stand to see prisoners like this?
I'm not this kingdom's future king. That's what he wanted to think, what he'd even say to Leera when she mentioned it at one point in time.
In all reality, or as reality spun on, the thought more or like became, I am the future king. I have to fill the old king's place. Not fully, of course. He could do as Rennera did; make the orders for guards to hurt the prisoners. But what if all of the prisoners are innocent, or they were forced into doing something?
Now again he thought of Leera. The assassin wasn't forced to be an assassin. From what he gathered from her poorly secreted self was that her father was taken prisoner and- as opposed to only being tortured- was killed while in captivity. Sir Guard assumed Leera became an assassin out of her own good will. She admitted she didn't kill for just anyone. 'I don't kill for people with overloaded bellies. I kill for the people whose ribs I can see, or can't see due to the loose fabric in place of skin' the assassin had said days ago. All in all, Leera wasn't forced to be an assassin, but even then she did the job only when it was fitting for the rest of society. Sometimes it backfired, like now as she was being wrestled onto a stone table. Sir Guard hated himself more than ever.
"I'll keep this simple," the queen practically announced.
Sir Guard couldn't tear his eyes away from Leera. She wasn't looking at him. He wondered if she hated him as much as he did himself. The assassin said before that she didn't hate him, but it was hard to believe, harder to believe than the queen actually being a semi-decent person.
"My future king has had many issues with you before, with your complaining and whimpers. So," She said the last word sharply, suddenly. "I have come up with an idea. I will use- hmm..."
Rennera moved on from the stone table to the nearest wooden one. Sir Guard still watched Leera all the while.
The assassin was held still by thick leather restraints bolted and strapped around the table. There was a seemingly new addition to the table. Sir Guard could tell it was new only by the fact it had no dirt or grime adorning it. It was a...a metal bracket, Sir Guard thought, and it was movable. By the looks of it, it was split in the center and pushed aside when not in use. However when someone lay down on the table, both sides were pushed together and locked in place on either side of the person's head. But why restrict the head?
As if on cue, the queen inhaled and released the breath with a sharp squeal as a shing- as well as some loud clunks- sounded throughout the room. Sir Guard's eyes finally left Leera to see a sharp short dagger glinting in the torchlight. The queen handed it off to the second guard in the room, the non-future king.
Rennera said to the guard now, "You'll cut lines in her lips- vertically. She won't give you trouble. Thank Bliss for new inventions."
That's why, Sir Guard thought mournfully. The torture would be done to Leera's mouth, and therefore her head needed to be as still as the rest of her body. It made him feel sick.
The other guard didn't waste a moment, already trying to figure out the easiest way to complete the task, which he didn't seem to mind doing at all. Sir Guard hoped he was only as great of an actor as everyone else in the room. He doubted it.
"Can I-" The guard gestured to the table, or Leera.
"Whatever will make this a speedy process," the queen answered, and the guard nodded, climbing on top of the table and straddling the assassin, looming over her with dagger in hand.
Leera tried to look away, but cried out as the metal brackets must have dug into her scalp. Sir Guard imagined there were spikes being driven into her head. He swallowed, watching, not saying a word- though he had many he wanted to say. The table was small enough that climbing on top was entirely unnecessary. The queen must have known this. Why did she agree? Sir Guard tried to think hopefully. Perhaps she is only trying to please her guard. Word will spread of cruel treatment of prisoners, but great treatment of the Guard.
"Get off of me!" Leera screeched at the man. "Get off!" She tried bucking her hips if only to knock him off balance, but his knees were well planted on either side of her and he only chuckled at the motion.
Pig, Sir Guard thought disgustedly.
Rennera said as Leera continued to protest, "Grab her mouth at the joints of her jaws."
The man followed instruction and Sir Guard quietly cursed himself. It was he who had done that and the queen caught onto it, using it to her advantage.
Every moment grew worse. Leera screamed and cried, begged between individual slices of skin made by the blade. Sir Guard wanted nothing more than to scoop her off of that stone table and carry into the very woods he found her in.
He considered what would have happened if he hadn't brought Leera back to the queen at all. Could they both have been free? No, of course not. The reason he brought the assassin to Rennera, he knew all along, was because there was no chance of freedom as long as Rennera wanted the assassin. The whole reason he brought her back was so that he had enough time to learn how to reason with the queen and convince her to release Leera. Nothing had changed. This was still the goal. It was just becoming slightly difficult now with the meeting of kings and generals coming up so soon-
No.
A thought struck Sir Guard. Rennera already stated he was to be at the meeting- most likely it would be a conversational dinner. What would happen if he was recognized by the others? The queen thought Sir Guard as only being a bounty hunter. She had no idea it was an act, one used to fool her into keeping him around. He refused to be Leera's guard at first only as a 'playing hard to get', though he didn't expect it would make him worthy of being her next king. Either way, to Rennera, Sir Guard being her king would be the first time he had experience with royalty. It wasn't, and that's why this next 'conference' as she called it would be so dangerous.
For BTHB, could you do cold blooded torture for Leera and Rennera? I absolutely love them!!
Hiya! I'm so glad you love my characters! It really means a lot to me :) Thank you for the request!!
Leera/Rennera Request Fill (out of the timeline)
@badthingshappenbingo
Prompt: Cold-Blooded Torture
Fandom: Original Work
TWs: I think we can assume the lot of these given the prompt but----> torture, blood, restrained, captivity, whipped, scratched by nail, threats of worse treatment, blood, burned by hot metal (not branded), forced apology, mention of muscle damage
******
The queen's steps thudded against the floor like an unbearable drum. Only Leera's own harsh breathing could tune it out.
"Again," Rennera said and the assassin released a hearty cry as leather slapped against her back. Her elbows drove inwards, but to no avail could she stop the pain being caused. Her wrists were sore, tugging constantly, pathetically, at the chains bounding them.
Rennera tutted. "You would think that after all this time..." The queen stepped beside Leera's head, which was pressed firmly to the stone table she was restrained on. Rennera smiled at the sweat streaming from the assassin's hairline. "You would think," she repeated, and delicately dragged a nail down Leera's arm, causing a shudder, "you would just apologize."
An incoherent noise tumbled from the assassin's lips before Leera was able to mutter, "I have." Her voice was quiet, but gravely. Someone might have said her voice was tossed into a tumbler, then given back with missing slivers. Another symptom of brokenness, but the assassin would never accept that fact. She wasn't broken; she was still fighting. "I have apologized," Leera groaned again.
"And what has the problem been? What have I told you on every occasion?"
"It wasn't true."
"What wasn't?" The queen drew another line, this one less delicate than the first stroke, this one coming close to breaking the skin.
"The- the apology. It wasn't true." Leera grimaced at Rennera's nail touching her skin. She became very consciously aware of the scarred line on her face.
"And?" the queen asked.
"And if it's not true," she swallowed. "If it's not true then I'll- I'll never leave." But she had. Leera had escaped many times, only it never lasted. The assassin's face was posted everywhere, at all times. Paper over paper of her aging face was displayed on town square notice boards, on trees in every woods, even dyed on banners that hung from the palace itself. Leera was searched for even at times when the queen hadn't lost her.
A whine rose in the assassin's throat as she felt her skin split, felt a single bead of warm blood slide down the curve of her arm until it touched the table. "Good girl," the queen said in a high voice, as if she were speaking to a little girl. It was appropriate; Leera felt little. "Now, apologize again." Rennera stood, began walking circles around her revenge canvas once again.
"I-I can't. I can't. Please. Please, I can't do what you-"
"Again!" the queen yelled. At almost the same time, the man behind Leera cracked down on her back, earning a clipped scream from the assassin as her voice gave at the sudden outburst. "Apologize."
Leera couldn't speak and instead gagged on the pain streaking her back and shoulders.
The footsteps stopped once more. Rennera hummed. "Give me your dullest knife, servant." Leera could hear the torturer lay down his whip before shuffling through his various devices. "Yes, that one!"
The assassin's chest rose in quick gasps. It hurt too much for full breaths. It stretched the muscles too much. Leera felt she wasn't breathing enough, and a part of her thought not breathing at all would feel better. She needed a numb; she needed rest. Before she could close her eyes, something cold touched her back and she startled with a high-pitched scream. Leera swore she smelled metal, but is it the knife or my own blood? She physically shook away the thought, despite the miserable pain moving caused.
Queen Rennera sighed, twisting the knife in her hand, spinning the dull tip against an unscathed part of Leera's back. "I can't tell if I have actually broken you or if you are being stubborn as usual." The knife pressed harder, still twisting.
I'm not broken. I've never been and never will be. Not by you, or anyone. With those thoughts still came the inevitable, But I hurt. Gods, I hurt. I want to sleep. I want... Leera would run away soon. She would run again, even if it meant another night of furious torture. Leera just needed a break. When she was healed from this night, she would run again, she swore it.
With a newfound courage, Leera, still in immense pain from the whip, said, "You want," The assassin allowed herself one deep breath, face skewering as she focused on holding it in as her flesh tore with the action. When the burn subsided, she used that focused breath to finish saying, "You want something that I can't- I can't give y- agh!" The metal pushed against her spine, pinning her to a table she was already pinned on. Leera felt a block in her throat. It was out of place and her body wanted it out so it gagged again. Her stomach acted with the block, pushing an invisible barrier out. It churned and twisted along with the fires in her back. No matter how hard her body tried, Leera wasn't pushed to the point of throwing up yet.
"You need only apologize to him," the queen said, referring to the dead king as she always did. Her voice, though, was soft, falsely sympathetic. "And this will all be over, my dearest Leera." The assassin pushed her forehead harder onto the stone table, screaming at the top of her lungs with a plea as the queen pushed the dagger harder onto the spine, not enough to shatter it, but enough to send the nerves on a panicked spree. Rennera didn't even break the skin, hence a dull blade.
"I'm sorry!" Leera finally sputtered. "I'm sorry!" and her voice rose an octave. If she could have pounded a fist against the table, she would have.
"I would threaten to cut out your tongue if it meant you could speak without it," Rennera spat.
Click,click- clack. It was the knife, falling to the floor. Leera released a sigh of relief. Another warm tear followed the edge of her cheekbone.
The queen called her servant again, this time asking for a clamp.
"I'm sorry," Leera drawled with a whine. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She took shallow breaths again, listening as the queen neared once more. "And I mean it," she said truthfully. "I do. I'm sorry, my queen, for everything. I'm sorry." I'm not broken, but I'm in pain. I must stop this pain. She didn't lie. Leera felt badly for killing the king, but she felt no pity for him. It was the queen she felt badly for. Unfortunately, that wasn't what the queen wanted, and that's why Leera put off her apologies for as long as possible. Not saying one at all was better than giving one to the queen, who didn't want it for herself.
"Start me a fire." The assassin screamed her apologies louder, nearly losing her voice.
Each 'sorry' only earned her another punishment, for the queen was sick of being apologized to. Leera should be apologizing to the man she killed. Why didn't the assassin feel as bad as Rennera for the king's death? Why didn't she feel just as guilty? One day, the queen thought, one day she'll understand the pain she caused in her reputation if she only experiences it herself.
Red hot, the spiked clamp was brought back by the servant. Rennera urged him to hand her the device faster and the moment he did, she situated her fingers in the handles, before opening the closed tips and pressing it against the skin of the assassin's left arm. As Leera screamed, the queen said, perhaps not loudly enough to affect the assassin further, "Don't worry, dearest. I won't damage the muscles too awfully."
Finally back to my dearest assassin!! I've been super busy and stressed recently so to anyone reaching out, I have seen your messages and reblogs and I will get to them this weekend- if not sooner.
******
Leera didn't remember the sun rising. She didn't remember Sir Guard coming out alone to remove the forked collar, or scooping her up like a bride and carrying her to the palace once again.
What the assassin did remember was the dryness on her tongue and in her throat. She remembered not to breath too heavily or else her chest would sting sharply enough that it stole all air away. She remembered this despite not feeling the weight of the collar anymore.
The assassin recalled hearing words from the villagers. She recalled tears rolling down her cheeks. Those tears were dried crusty on her face now as she lay her head against the cold stone floor of the dungeon. She didn't speak when Sir Guard tried to tell her what the villagers were saying. He said they thanked her and prayed for her, but Leera didn't believe it.
"I convinced the queen to let you suffer the punishment without her usual taunts."
Leera hummed as a thanks. Should she have been thanking him? She wasn't sure. It didn't matter right now. Listening to him, responding to him in any way was better than thinking of the pain she felt. Her body was exhausted and ached from being in the same position for an entire day. Her chin and chest hurt where metal prongs dug into them. She was tired, but she didn't think she'd sleep past the image of the king's partially decayed and hanging body fresh on her mind.
"Stuh-ory," she muttered.
Sir Guard gave a quizzical look.
The assassin whimpered at the thought of speaking again. "Story," she said more coherently this time, not without much effort. "Tell me-"
"Okay, I understand," he said and Leera was grateful he didn't make her finish. She let her jaw relax against the floor like the rest of her.
The assassin waited, listening, but Sir Guard still wasn't saying anything. Did he understand? If he did, was it possible that he wasn't speaking to her as some sort of punishment? Perhaps he was finally siding with the Queen Rennera. Leera certainly hoped not, but she supposed it was only a matter of time.
As if to defend himself, Sir Guard began, "I'm not much of a storyteller, but I guess I'll try to start with this," He took a step back and Leera watched- with only her eyes- as he slid his back down the wall he stood at until his bottom met the ground. "There was a- a prince, and let's call him- um-" He paused for some time, obviously thinking of a name. Leera was surprised that Sir Guard was doing this. She knew he didn't like the queen, but he never showed such willingness to help the assassin. He promised to help her through Rennera's torture, but to make a story...it was unexpected. It was so silly of a request, but he was following through.
"Dogars. We'll call the Prince Dogars."
Leera tried to ask where Dogars was a prince of, but she was shushed. "Easy now. Let me tell the story and you can criticize it when you heal."
She nodded and regretted it with a whimper. Nodding stretched the skin just slightly. It wasn't so much that it hurt as it simply panicked Leera into thinking it would hurt.
Sir Guard continued. "Now, Dogars was raised, obviously, to be a great king, one that would would exceed the expectations of his father who currently sat on the throne." He swallowed. "This wasn't easy. To be better than the king, the prince was put into training extra early. Extra early being that instead of being given a doll at birth, he was given a wooden dagger.
"This makes it sound like the parents didn't care," Sir Guard said, "but they did. They cared greatly. In fact, it was because they cared that they were so harsh with their son. If the prince didn't succeed, the rest of the kingdom would have torn him apart. You see, the enemy kingdom was pressing close to the prince's borders and they were threatening to overthrow the king, and since the king was a rather soft man, he wasn't doing much to stop his opponents. But if the prince were raised to fight enemies, there'd be no risk in him not doing what was needed.
"The prince was raised to be somewhat callused- not careless- but, but hardened. If it boiled down to it, he would kill a man to preserve his own kingdom. Or, that's how Dogars thought he would turn out. Everyone thought it. No one but the prince knew that as he grew older, as his kingdom grew poorer and it was time to take down the enemy that he hid behind the face of a hired killer."
Leera listened with closed eyes, imagining her guard's story. At first, it seemed wobbly, unsure, but as he continued, the story was piecing itself together, flowing with more organized thought. If she weren't injured and exhausted right now, she would have scorned herself for allowing herself to believe Sir Guard was telling her his own story, that he was some prince from a kingdom outside of this one.
"Kill- killer?" The assassin's mouth moved barely as to prevent herself from hurting any more than she already did. "Who did kill?" Her grammar was poor she knew, but she was still getting her question across. Who was the killer ordered to take out? Clearly it would be someone from the enemy state, but who? A general, she assumed.
Sir Guard smiled tightly. "Didn't I tell you to save your questions until you were healed?"
Leera would have shrugged, but she caught herself remembering her chest also being pained before she acted. So, she only stared at him.
He answered, "The greatest ruler of the enemy, the king." The assassin rose her brows. "Dogars was trained to fight, but he was given no lessons on strategy. Going straight after the king was a terrible idea and he wished someone would have told him that before he called for action." Sir Guard stopped, scrunched his brows as he gazed at Leera. He's thinking, the assassin realized. And now he's lying. She thought this as he quickly glanced away and said, "I...can't come up with anymore. I, myself, don't know much about politics. I'm sure you know more than I do."
It was a lie. It was such a lie that Leera could feel her blood slightly boil. She wasn't so sure why it was irritating. Maybe it was because she felt robbed. Sir Guard had finally given her something beyond a relief from torture; he gave her a sense of hope. And even that was confusing to Leera. How could a story, a story not even about hope, give her that feeling?
She acknowledged the side of her pained insanity that told her this was Sir Guard's story. "Who?" she asked lowly.
"Who?"
"Who." Leera shifted on the floor, picked the top side of her body up and eased herself against the wall so that she and her guard sat the same, looking directly at one another. "You. Who...are you?"
"Just a thin skinned man you would kill for, at least if I hadn't...You hate me, and that's fine. I deserve that." Leera began to work her jaw while he spoke. If she could grow accustomed to the pain, she could speak around it. She was already getting better. "I act tough because I have to, because I'm supposed to, but I'm not tough. I'm just like my- forget it. I'm sorry that what's happening to you is happening. I'm sorry that I can only help you by encouraging you to take punishments you don't deserve to prevent you from receiving more. I'm sorry."
There was a lot Leera could have responded to. She could have asked more questions. She could have taunted him and pretended he was worthy of every ounce of opposition in all the lands. 'Pretended' was the key word. And so she said only this, "I don't hate you." It must have been the first whole sentence she spit out unbroken; it was a worthy sentence of that trait.
Sir Guard eyed her. "You're just saying that." He looked away.
"I said it, yes." She attempted to take a large breath, but her chest stung. It would take several weeks for the damage to heal entirely. Only a few more days until she could resume breathing normally again. Well, if she didn't pick the scabs. She would try not to, but her nerves were always on edge nowadays. Leera found it difficult to not pick at her skin or lips sometimes. "I said it truthfully." A few short breaths. "I don't hate you," the assassin repeated. "Look at me." He did. "I don't hate you."
Sir Guard shook his head, chin falling to his chest. "You would. You would if you knew me."
"You feel guilty about something."
"Not obvious?"
Leera said, "I've known for a while. Think I even mentioned it before. A moment-" She took several more breaths, telling herself mentally to forget the pain. Forget the pain. Think blank. Think wall. Anything but pain. Wall. Wall. Wall. "I don't know who you are, but I can promise I would never hate you." Damn it. Why was she so out of breath? It was becoming hard to focus because of it. "You help," she told him. "Maybe there isn't much to do to help, but you stayed. You became my guard." Breath. "You didn't have to. You even disagreed at first, but you came around." Sir Guard's head was still hung low. "What do you think would have happened if you didn't whisper in my ear before the forked collar?"
He shrugged.
"I would have lashed out."
Now he looked up.
"I asked before to have my wrists bound because I was afraid of striking and making things worse," Leera explained. "You were my saviour restraint yesterday. I don't doubt the queen would have skinned my kneecaps before knocking me into a kneel. You prevented that from happening."
"Yeah, well you wouldn't have been there if I-"
The assassin slapped a palm against the stone floor, making both herself and Sir Guard jump. "Stop blaming yourself for something you won't even tell me about. I told you," she spat roughly, "I don't hate you. Even after you dragged me through the woods, after you took my voice, I haven't hated you. If I ever said I did it was only ever because I was scared."
Leera's chest throbbed and she felt a cold trickle run into her shirt. Sure enough, as she ran a finger over the chilled skin, it came back wet and sticky with blood. One of the puncture wounds reopened on one edge. She sighed.
"I decide if you feel guilty or not, and I can't tell you how you should feel until you tell me what it was you did, or who you are, Sir Guard." Leera slid her back sideways against the wall until her shoulder felt the coolness of the floor. She closed her eyes, flinched. "Until you decide to tell me, I'm catching up on the sleep I missed."
It was surprising the assassin was able to sleep at all, as as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw the king's ugly, dead body. Maybe she was accustomed after seeing it for so long. Leera didn't doubt now that she could spend another night in a coffin with it.
Okay, this chapter is kind of massive. You've been warned. On that note, I really loved the interactions in it!
@tears-and-lilies
******
The cell door creaked open. Kastion figured it would be the queen returning with Leera. She'd taken the assassin away immediately following dinner, and for a moment, the prince feared she was punishing Leera for her outburst. If that were the case, he realized, he would be put in pain right now. But he wasn't. Kastion was left alone in his cell.
Of course, that was until now as a form stepped in. At first the prince didn't recognize who it was, thinking it would be a guard. It took Kastion looking at the person from toe to head to realize it was his best friend. He stood immediately at the realization.
Without another thought, he threw himself at Dogars, wrapping his arms around his friend's neck. The hug didn't last a second. Dogars grabbed the prince by either shoulder and shoved him away.
Almost immediately, Kastion fell into a pit of analysis, trying to figure out why his friend, whom he'd known since childhood, and hadn't seen for...how long was the prince in Ecksthnie? A month? Regardless of how long it had been, Kastion thought his friend would be excited to see him, not angrily shoving him away.
So what was it then? A betrayal? Had Dogars been working with the queen the whole time?
Before anymore outlandish questions could capture his mind, a hand landed on Kastion's shoulder, before another grabbed his opposite hand. The prince was yanked to his feet and enveloped by Dogars just as he had done before to him.
"Sorry, had to make sure there were no guards around."
The prince nodded and pulled away. "Good thinking."
"Something you haven't been doing."
"That's the first thing we're going to talk about?" Kastion shook his head with a huff. He already knew he was foolish. It didn't mean he wouldn't have come to Rennera's palace, but he would have come up with an actual plan instead of winging everything. Either way, he already knew what his friend was thinking. He didn't need it said aloud.
Dogars let out a sarcastic laugh. "Kastion, I'm talking to you in a damn cell. Yes, it's the first thing we're going to talk about. Have you even thought about how you're going to get out of here?"
"Not really," the prince admitted. He slid against the wall until he sat on the cold floor once again. He felt the chill even through his pants. He almost laughed, realizing he was still dressed like a king. It reminded him of the way Leera looked at him when he first walked in after he had his bath. Had she been scared? She talked to him for the majority of the dinner. He should have asked.
"Not really? Kas, you can't stay here. Think of Thharewood. And come on, your father is-"
"Has he gotten better? Any at all?"
The emissary shook his head with closed eyes. He then pinched the skin between his brows and sighed. "The queen is having to fill in for him."
"Well what's he like? He can still recover, can't he? The medics said he would be okay. He shouldn't be getting worse." The prince could feel his heart rate rising, beating against his chest like it was a cage. It needed a way out. Kastion could feel it about to burst.
Bending down, Dogars patted his friend's shoulder. It was the best comfort he could offer. "I'm sorry," he said. "The least you can do is return. He's worried about you, Kastion. Maybe you coming home could lift his spirits."
Kastion didn't know how to tell his friend that he couldn't come back. That thought in itself made him feel guilty. Shouldn't he want to return as soon as possible? He did want to return, but not without Leera. The prince wouldn't leave her. But he also couldn't leave his father. The king was dying, lying on his death bed right this second. Kastion felt like he was being selfish by not jumping at the idea of returning to Thharewood.
Moments of silence followed the two men. The prince went through his normal emotions, whereas Dogars was thinking through plans.
As vicious as the queen claimed to be, Dogars saw right through her. She was trying so desperately to appear tough that she was making mistakes left and right. No matter how hard he tried to figure out why she was wanting to marry Kastion, a prince who claimed to be a bounty hunter, he couldn't piece it together. At first, it made sense. Queen Rennera wanted to marry the man who brought back the killer of her husband. It was an instant love situation. But then at dinner, Kastion was tied up, clearly some sort of punishment. It was because he tried to run away with Leera.
"You said you haven't made any plans to get out, but the queen said you tried to run away with the assassin. So she's lying?" Dogars would never question his friend's honesty.
"Leera," the prince said rather snappily. "The assassin's name is Leera."
"Okay, Leera, whatever. You never tried to help her escape. Why were you bundled in rope?"
The prince's eyes flickered several times like torchlight. "I-well...The queen seized a moment."
"You left yourself vulnerable."
"To put it kindly, yes."
"I want the brute truth, Kas."
He made a sound similar to hehe. A pitiful noise, one sweet and innocent. It was the same chuckle Dogars had grown accustomed to when the prince did something foolish.
"She gave me an ointment to give Leera, didn't say what it was, but I trusted it would heal Leera, so I out it on her lips. It hurt her, real bad." The prince proceeded to talk about how Rennera made him out to be guilty of some wicked plan, and continued, "I thought to myself that I had no right to defend myself. I'm the reason Leera is here. I hired her. I should have known the queen would respond cruelly. And beyond that, I shouldn't have asked for her name." The prince went on, and on, and on, barely leaving any room for his own breaths.
Dogars let Kastion speak. He needed it, to let it all out. Maybe if he released all that he was bottling, he could finally think straight and they could formulate a plan to get them- all three of them, apparently- out of there.
Still, before he made a plan, Dogars wanted to know why Rennera wanted to marry his friend. It wasn't because he tried to run off with the assas- Leera. Then what was it?
"Have you learned anything about the queen since you've been here?"
Kastion thought about it, not really knowing what answer the emissary was looking for. "She doesn't like hurting people." A chuckle sounded, an irritated and exasperated one. "I believe her, Dogars. She talked about the past king and how badly he treated her. She's scared, alright? It's why she took Leera and tortured her. I sided with Leera so now she's being forced to be the same way with me. But I'm her 'future king' so I guess my treatment is a bit kinder."
"That," Dogars said. "That's the part I'm trying to figure out. Why is she trying to marry you?"
The prince shrugged. "I don't know. Been trying to figure out the same thing."
They both hummed, and before either one could think up an answer, there were footsteps coming from the staircase. The two men in the cell fell silent.
Kastion jumped to his own feet at the sound of stumbled steps and a gasp. Not just any gasp, though. It belonged to Leera.
"Sit down!" Dogars whisper-yelled at the prince. "Don't ruin this more than you already have." The words were harsh, and he didn't mean it that way, but if Kastion acted out any while a guard was down here, he had no doubt something bad would happen.
The prince bit his tongue as he felt a small amount of defiance ready to spill out. He needed to stay calm, act calm. Kastion could be angry all he wanted, but he needed to keep a cool.
"Move faster."
More stumbling feet, a beat against a wall. The guard who was bringing Leera was shoving her. Kastion bit his tongue harder, curling the tip over his top front teeth. If he bit it any harder, he was afraid he'd cut it in half.
"Step aside and don't try anything."
For the second time that day, Kastion heard the metal door swing open on its squeaky hinges. Leera stepped in, Crooked Guard following.
Crooked didn't bother addressing anyone already in the cell. He spoke only to Leera, saying, "To the wall. You have valuable company tonight."
Now Dogars spoke up. "Oh, now I'm valuable?" He chuckled, a real one this time. Not fake and frustrated. "I didn't realize I was worthy of protection. Though I suppose my wooden chair was on the opposite end of the assassin and bounty hunter."
The guard ignored the emissary, focusing only on locking the shackles behind Leera's back. She wouldn't meet anyone's eyes while this was happening. Kastion felt something twist in his stomach at her behaviour. There was no bite left in her. She was just...letting Crooked restrict her without a fight or argument. What happened? She looked okay, but she didn't act okay.
"It isn't necessary, guard. If the queen could handle her, I'm sure I'm just as capable."
Instead of trying to defend the queen like surely the whole room thought, Crooked said, "Oh, I'm sure you could. But I like to see the assassin at anyone's mercy. Plus," he smiled. "I know for a fact it bothers this one." He bobbed his head in Kastion's direction, who bit his tongue even harder, and thankfully realized he couldn't bite his tongue off so easily as he thought.
Crooked left, laughing as he heard the male prisoner's breath picking up in a heavy anger. He mentioned as he left to Dogars that he should call for him when he was ready to leave the cell.
Immediately, when he thought the guard was out of earshot, Kastion asked, "Leera, are you okay?"
"Don't ask me that question," she said quietly. Still, she wasn't looking up.
"Are you hurt?" he asked instead.
"This is the prince from the story, yeah? Dogars?"
Now it was Dogars' turn to ask a question, only it was directed towards the real prince in the room. "You told her I was-"
"She knows," Kastion interrupted. "About me, I mean."
"You're the best friend. You're not the prince, but he," Leera nodded at Sir Guard. "Liked to humour me that way a few days- or was it a few weeks- ago."
"Does she know where we belong to?"
"No, but it wouldn't matter if she did. Leera isn't an enemy."
"She's not a friend. She's dangerous, and I don't mean it because she is an assassin." Dogars glanced at Leera, who continued to keep her head held down. It only proved the point he was about to make. "Kas, this girl could very well rat you out." He quickly amended, "Not that she'd want to, but it could easily happen if the pain grows too great for her to handle."
"She wouldn't."
"I wouldn't."
It was said at the same time, but Leera was always fearful of knowing Sir Guard was a prince. She liked the situation even less now, when Dogars called him 'Kas'. She would do her best to forget the name entirely. It terrified her that one day she might slip up, tell the queen exactly who Sir Guard was, if only to save herself or him. But telling Rennera who he was would actually either kill or save the prince. It was that fact that scared her even more.
The emissary shook his head, huffing. "Look, I don't know what bond you two have, but save it for later. You," He pointed at Kastion. "Need to come home. Immediately. And once we get back, if you still want to get your lady friend back, we can send some men, multiple men, who actually think before they act."
"She's not just a lady friend." Sir Guard wasn't sure what he meant by this, but 'lady friend' wasn't right. It sounded too dismissive. He wasn't sure whether it was his regular guilt or something else that told him not to call Leera as such. It didn't matter, did it? He was in a cell with her and they were both okay. That was all that mattered. They, she, was okay. "I won't leave her, not for a second if I can help it."
"So what then? You care more about an assassin's life than your own kingdom's?"
"Lower your voice," Leera snapped.
Dogars raised his brows, not out of anger, but of surprise. At least for now she was willing to keep his prince's identity secret. And his own, he supposed.
The emissary continued, "Kastion, one person or a kingdom of people? You need to come home. We can come back for her. I'm sure she would wish the same, wouldn't you, Leera?"
Finally, she looked up, though it was without much thought. Dogars used her name for the first time. Of course, it was used only so she could aid him in making her only friend leave, but the prince's friend was right. Her life was only one. Sir Guard was responsible for thousands of people, in a way. He was only a prince, not a king yet, but he would be the latter at some point. Maybe even soon, who knew? Either way, he needed to go home, and she even stated that aloud, but Sir Guard wasn't listening to her.
No, the prince's mouth was slightly agape, and he was walking slowly towards her. At first Leera'd been standing several paces away from the wall, but as he neared, she backed up, tucking her chin down again, letting her hair fall over the sides of her face like it had been before.
"You are hurt," Sir Guard whispered. "Why didn't you say so when I asked?"
"Because I'm not hurt. I'm fine." Her voice was sharp, but it meant nothing as the prince pushed her hair behind her ears. She thought this was the closest, and softest, he'd ever been. He didn't seem angry like she expected, but only saddened. She swallowed, looking up at him with no point in hiding anymore. Her hair wasn't covering the bruises being tucked behind her ears, and the torchlight was bright.
"Who did it?"
"It doesn't matter, Ka-" No! Leera wasn't supposed to know his name. She was supposed to be forgetting what Dogars said. Kas- Kastion, any variety of the name...it didn't exist. And there was no prince, except when Leera needed to convince him to go home. He was Sir Guard, her used-to-be personal guard who was a bounty hunter before unfortunately falling into Queen Rennera's grasp. "It doesn't matter who did it. I'm fine, Sir Guard. I'm fine."
"Then why were you hiding it?"
"Because I don't want you mouthing off again!" She took a deep breath. "You're stupid sometimes, you know that? You used to think about things before you did them, but you're letting some- I don't know- something hinder your intellect. I hid my cheek because you keep making your situation worse. The queen lied when she said she would take our actions and punish the other of us for it. If you screw up, she will hurt you. Do you understand that? I can handle whatever she throws at me, a sharp metaled fist or scorching clamps, I'll take all of it. You don't deserve any of that. Go home."
Dogars took all of her chatting time to find a clean spot on the wall to lean against. He wouldn't sit because sitting left room for an attack he couldn't easily defend against. Not that anyone would attack them in a cell, but still. He had to remain cautious since his best friend never was, especially now as he was infatuated with the assassin.
Kastion squinted his eyes. "I'm stupid for trying to keep her focus on me instead of you?"
"Yes," Leera responded. "Yes, you are. I told you, I'm here because I made a mistake. It has nothing to do with you. It never did. You shouldn't even be here. You shouldn't be jeopardizing yourself for my sake. Listen to your friend. Return to your kingdom, but don't bother sending men. I'll make it out on my own, or I won't. Don't concern yourself with me. I'm getting what I deserve."
"Seems like you're just as guilty of self-blaming as I am." He smiled, their faces still too close to one another's. "I am not leaving unless I can take you with." He swiveled on his heel. "You should both get used to that idea because I won't change my mind. Leera comes with or I guess I'll just have to make an escape plan of my own. You know how that will go, don't'cha, Garsie?"
Dogars sighed. Bringing out my nickname from when we were ten, really? "Then what do you want me to do? I don't think I can sneak you out of here during my stay. I leave in two mornings."
"Whatever you think is best. As long as you include Leera in what you come up with, I don't care how anything is done."
Leera reasoned, "You should keep me out of it. If you take me, you will start a war with the queen. I'm her property and you know this." She was speaking to Sir Guard. "It's why you brought me back when you found me in the woods. You knew she would only hunt us before we ever reached whatever your kingdom is."
"Your lips are better," the prince commented. Dogars would have spit his drink if he even had one. So Kastion did have a crush on her, didn't he?
"Before the dinner, she gave me more of the...whatever that stuff is. Oh, and after."
"The poison?" Dogars shook his head. He couldn't believe what his friend told him earlier. Kastion fragging poisoned himself. At least the assassin cleared something up a little bit. Maybe the prince didn't fancy her and was only referring to the girl's injuries. Still, the way Kastion was acting, always defending Leera, it was unusual. Dogars swore his best friend fell in love, and he would kill him for it.
"They look much less swollen. Do they still hurt?"
"Not anymore, thankfully. Can we get back on topic?"
The three of them argued more. Two against one, of course. Leera and Dogars had the common sense to let the assassin stay in Queen Rennera's domain. As much pain as she would be put through, she could take it. It was better than a prince being senselessly kept as well when he had so much potential elsewhere. Kastion needed to leave, to return to his homeland and fulfill whatever duties a prince had. And Leera needed...to put on a brave face. She handled the queen's tortures before Sir Guard. She could handle them after him, too. Right?
Leera would be terrified when Sir Guard did escape. She would probably break a few times, beg over and over again for whatever horror she was facing to stop. She'd probably try to escape on her own and fail. There had only ever been one guard to help her before the prince, and that guard had been...put to rest. The assassin had to pull herself out of the memory where the guard was killed, when she hadn't watched his death, but listened. She should have watched, should have faced what she caused, but she was cowardice.
Kastion bit his tongue, clenched his fists. "I am not. Leaving you. Here. The more you try to convince me to, the more I feel like staying and suffering with you. I deserve this, not you. And before you get upset with me for blaming myself, it's what I was taught to do. It's who I am and you won't change that. You either come with or we're both staying."
"Can't say the same thing if you have another taste of that poison." Leera said this, and for a second time this night, Sir Guard was shocked. First it had been because she wasn't fighting Crooked. Now it was because she was threatening to poison him if he didn't leave.
"I'm done talking about this," he said. "I have my mind made up. Dogars, you're under my higher authority and you'll do what I say." Kastion hated playing that card almost more than anything else, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If he didn't say this, his friend would continue to argue as long as they already had been.
Conversation shifted. They needed to get something out of this so when the queen undoubtedly asked later, then Dogars could explain...well, anything. Why he was down there? What did he learn? Was it what he wanted? Needed?
Kastion suggested, "You wanted to know about my past."
Leera nodded, "He already has a story for it. Surely it wasn't just the queen who was curious about 'the future king'. Who was he before being a bounty hunter?"
The emissary nodded. "That's good," and he listened as the two explained the short backstory. Sir Guard was from the fish kingdom, Harcose, where he lived by a lake. There was no coverage and birds ate all of his supply. He fell into poverty. They added onto the story that his parents practically disowned him when he suggested he hunted bounties. They would have preferred he'd been a mercenary because at least then there was a variety of jobs. Bounty hunting always involved criminals.
"How about a name? You can't have a false identity without a name."
"I have so far," Kastion said. "Leera didn't even know my name until you said it earlier."
"For once I'm the one who jacked up." Dogars dragged a hand down his face. "Leera, you said earlier the queen wanted the back story, which you already gave her. Has she ever mentioned wanting his name?"
"Once, before she brought me to the dinner table, she was ready to do something to get a name." She rolled her shoulders, which were progressively becoming sore from being held awkwardly behind her. She bent her elbows to stretch for a little bit. "The queen concluded that as a bounty hunter he might not have a name, and dismissed it until I gave her the story he gave me. Now, she is a little bit more curious. She brought out a map to figure out where he lived, to see what lake didn't have trees. I was dismissed before she found anything."
Kastion sighed. Dogars raked his face down again. "Fact checking," the prince said. "I figured she would do that, but I thought the story was fool-proof."
"Keep things as vague as possible. Using Harcose was smart, but the lake without trees is too specific."
"So no name?" Sir Guard asked.
Dogars shook his head. "Until she asks for one, you don't have a name. Leera should continue to call you Sir Guard." He didn't question how that name came to be. It was an insignificant detail. "We should still make up a name though, for when she does ask."
"He was a fisherman. His name should have something to do with that. Unless he abandoned that identity to become the bounty hunter. They always change their names, makes them more known."
The emissary huffed. "Maybe assassins should take up the tradition of using different names."
"The goal is to be un-known."
"Hard to get business that way, isn't it?"
"Better than everyone knowing your name and being able to predict your actions."
"Fake name," Dogars reminded her. "You gave away your real name."
"How do you know it's not a fake name? I could have given you any name. As long as you have a face or a known victim to match a name with, that's all it matters. I gave you a name, it spread. Now I'm here." Leera eyed the prince. "I gave you my name." She'd enunciated every word, making her message as clear as possible. This wasn't his fault. He might have asked for her name, but it was her choice to give it or keep it secret.
Kastion said, "We're straying from the topic again. Tomorrow, there is another dinner. Garsie, do the rest of the nobles know who I am?"
Dogars thought about it from a moment. The general from Harcose certainly didn't, not with as persistent with his question as he was. Would that mean he would know Kastion didn't come from Harcose? Or would it mean the opposite- not necessarily that he would know it was a fact, but he wouldn't deny it?
Besides the Harcose man, there was also the Eliaph general who seemed to be wary of Kastion, seemingly convinced he was a bounty hunter. He even went as far as telling the queen she should be more cautious, a direct and daring statement when the audience was rumoured to have hanged her dead husband.
"I don't know about the kings, but the generals were unaware. Do you know how lucky you are that I showed up instead of Griston?"
Thharewood's general would have pulled a sword out from a Guard's sheathe and launched it at the queen for the way she presented Kastion. Even if the prince wouldn't admit it himself, the golden rope was a slap in the face. Griston would have left the queen's head on a platter before slashing the restraint to bits.
"I wouldn't say lucky. You know Father has always trusted you."
"Wonder why that is. It's not like I've been saving you all your life."
Kastion squinted. "Don't get mouthy with me. I never questioned why he trusted you." The prince playfully punched his friend on the shoulder. It was in this moment that he feared he would never see Dogars again after he left. And if he did, it would never be as it was now.
At the dinner, Rennera mentioned how- in a week- all Kastion would want to do was marry her. Were the words true? And if they were, how would she achieve it? The prince could take physical torture, he was sure. But if she continued to hurt Leera....he wasn't sure what he would do. He couldn't fully imagine himself attacking the queen, but then again, he couldn't imagine doing otherwise. Where would attacking her land him?
Leera said before that Rennera lied, that she wasn't really punishing either one for each other's mistakes. So maybe the queen wouldn't hurt Leera. Unless she was uncooperative, of course, but Kastion doubted the assassin would act out anymore. He only concluded this because of the way she let Crooked shackle her when she came in, and later when he spotted the bruise on her cheek.
Suddenly, Kastion had an idea. "What if I tell Rennera who I really am? That I'm the one and only prince of a different land?" He used to only think of this as a bad idea, but now- What if it would do great things? What if the thought of him being a prince frightened the queen? It was possible. Kastion knew how anxious the queen was about her position. "I think I know why she wants to marry me."
Leera said first, "Are you mad!" She whisper-shouted it, of course.
"Why do you think?" Dogars thought revealing Kastion as the prince was entirely foolish, but he was intrigued in his friend's last statement.
"She thinks I'm beneath her. I'm another Leera to her, but she's trying to fill her husband's spot. She's switching roles, making me the victim like she was, and herself the abuser like the former king was."
"And what part of this makes you think it's wise to tell her you're the prince?" The emissary crossed his arm, set his face to hard stone.
"Because," Kastion began to reason, like it was all so obvious. "I'm not beneath her. Leera, what do you think when you hear 'prince'?"
She answered, "Rich, pompous asses that would never serve in a war unless their daddy pulled them out of their pretty palaces by the ear."
"Okay, that's not what I was looking for, but war! War; that's a word I can bounce something off of." Kastion took a breath. "Princes are trained for battle. They're taught defence and offense. They're strong, even if they are apparently rich, pompous asses. The queen will know I'm bigger than her, that she can't continue to push me around. I just need to fight back."
"So you want to act based on a theory."
"There's nothing else to act on, and I'm afraid of what might happen in a week." The prince reminded the other two about the queen's words at the meal.
"What should I do then?"
"Whatever you think. I won't act on anything until you've left." Dogars gave a confused look so Kastion continued, "I don't need you getting caught as well. You know, in case the plan falls through."
The room became silent as they all thought. No one was shutting down the idea, which meant it wasn't such an awful one at all. For once, the prince kind of made sense, but that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.
Just as they each thought before, telling Queen Rennera who Kastion was could end in harsher consequences than they'd already been dealt. Knowing he was a prince might make her want to marry even more. Because if he was a prince, he clearly wasn't the prince of Ecksthnie since there was none, but of another kingdom which was certainly looking for him. Kastion could become a victim of ransom or even simply blackmail. And if the queen did marry him before he managed to escape to his homeland, it would be considered an act of war, keeping the new King of Ecksthnie hostage.
War sounded like a larger consequence than just more torture. Torture involved four members; the queen and Crooked, and Leera and Kastion. Only four. A war would involve thousands.
Then again, if Kastion didn't return home, his sisters would be put in charge of Thharewood. They sure as hell didn't know how to run a kingdom. Unlike Kastion, they learned to be cruel and vicious from their trainers. But they also picked up the unhealthy habit of ignorance. The youngest perhaps had a small bit of hope, but the older clutched to her like she was a lifeline.
No matter what they did, there was a chance of doomed lives. But. If the prince told who he was and it did frighten the queen, all might end well. Kastion might even be able to persuade her to give him control of Ecksthnie. That would be the best outcome.
In the end, after discussing all of the contributing factors, the three in the cell decided. The soonest opportunity after the nobles left, Sir Guard- Kastion- bounty hunter- fisherman- would reveal he was a prince to the infamous Queen Rennera of Ecksthnie.
******
Part 22 here
(A/N) My phone refuses to acknowledge what I've added to its personal dictionary, so if you ever see the word 'cigars' in this series, please tell me. Dogars is extremely annoyed by it 😤
"She wishes to marry you," Leera said. It was probably the dumbest thing to say after just having the collar and rag removed from her mouth. She tried not to think what would happen to her if she made her male captor- now her guard- upset, if he were to tell the queen. It was one thing for the assassin to kill the king, it was another to anger Rennera's future groom. Maybe it sounded less severe, but Leera knew the queen would be more furious if her captive continued doing wrong when she was already being tortured for killing someone so dear to the queen.
"You nearly refused to be my guard," the assassin further remarked when she received no response from the man. "Am I so terrible or is it the queen you don't want to serve?"
"Shush." It was quick, snappy.
Leera chewed a flake of dead skin off her bottom lip. The corners of her mouth stung; she wanted to touch them, to feel the damage with her fingers. She could certainly feel the damage in the lips themselves, but she wanted to see it. How ruined was her face made by a rope and strap of leather? It'd bled at one point, red blotches staining the rope that now bound her hands. Thankfully the blood at the corners of her lips was dry. She only had to ignore the urge to lick it away. Leera hated the taste of blood. She didn't much like the sight of it either, but it was at least more tolerable given her occupation. Blood didn't make the assassin queasy, but it always made her question herself.
An itch feathered Leera's back. Her fingers stretched, wrists bent- she couldn't reach it. The assassin let out a huff of air. "The rope," she said, "will you take it away?"
The man didn't even consider it before he replied, "No."
"Why not? I'm the one that asked my wrists be bound to begin with."
"Her Majesty wishes for you to remain as you are."
"You removed the collar." If she could have crossed her arms, she would have. But here hands were tied behind her back, too expertly to get out of on her own, whether that be by wriggling out or skillfully untying the rope.
"Your tongue is less dangerous than your hands, assassin."
"You think I'd kill you?" she laughed. "Why, after all the torture I've endured, by your or the queen's hands, would I kill the future king?"
"I won't be the future king," he finally snapped. Leera watched his shoulders tense, rising up and up until she thought they would touch his chin. "And anyway, you killed the first. Why not kill another, regardless of who it was?"
It was a rhetorical question. Still, the assassin answered, "I kill the kings, the generals, the executioners that deserve death, the ones people beg me to kill." She continued, "I don't kill for people with overloaded bellies. I kill for the people whose ribs I can see, or can't see due to the loose fabric in place of skin."
"After all the torture you've endured," the man mocked, "you see no reason to kill me. If not for a starved man or woman- child- not even for yourself?"
There was a twinge in Leera's chest. The itch was gone, but she'd have preferred it over the pain in her heart. "I've only killed one man for myself," she admitted.
"Who?"
"A dead man."
"Obviously. Who was he before you killed him?"
"Why do you care, future king?"
His nose twitched, just barely from what the assassin could see. "Maybe your tongue is just as quipped as the rest of you. If you insult me one more time, I'll leash you again."
Leera laughed, the sound echoing in the dungeon room. If the coffin were still in here, the echo would have been less. She liked the bounce back of sound. "Insult? You'll be a king. You said you want to live," Leera remembered his soft moments in the woods, when she begged not to be taken back, not to be gagged. He claimed that taking Leera to the queen was his only way of life. "Isn't becoming King the best way to do so? You'd never have to hunt another bounty again. Or perhaps you do like being an assassin's guard. Is this position well enough for you? You drag a girl through the woods, watch her be dehumanized further than she already was, so you can get in just the comfortable position?"
"In the throne room," he began, clearly ignoring the assassin's words, "why did you want your hands to be tied again?"
"I was itching," Leera said easily, then explained, "Not how I was just now. That was a real itch, one that needs to be scratched. It's gone now, by the way, and no thanks to you." The man didn't respond. She sighed and continued. "I would have done something I'd regret if I wasn't restrained. No one wants to be bound until being bound is safer than losing control."
There was a short silence that followed the future king's hum. Leera didn't know what to take of it. Like many times before, she asked herself why he would even care about anything that had to do with her.
A realization dawned on Leera now. "I'm going to be here forever," she muttered more to herself than to her guard, but he quirked his head at her. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"You killed the king. Her Majesty clearly isn't happy about it."
"I killed the king, yes, but that's not the reason the queen torments me." The man lifted his chin, regarding the assassin on the floor. What other reason would there have been besides revenge? "She wants me to feel sorrowful towards the king. She thinks pain is emotion, and so until I apologize to the crowned dead, she'll never stop."
"Apologize?" Leera nodded. "Then why don't you just do it? Just tell her you are sorry and she'll release you."
The assassin blew a puff of air from her nose, shook her head. "You think I haven't tried?" Metal dragged, a harsh noise resounding through the room as Leera readjusted her position. She sat, back against the wall, legs straight out, separated by a metal bar. "I've apologized before, but she wants it to be real. And she doesn't want it to be directed at her. She wants it to mean something to the former king. The queen doesn't want my pity, and she certainly doesn't want me to apologize just to escape her tortures."
The man hummed. "So I take it you don't feel badly about the king?"
"I don't," she said. "I kill the people who have good enough reason to be killed. The king treated his people like shit. So yes, I killed him. And no, I don't feel bad." There was a pause. "I don't doubt he was some kind of a good husband. He had to have been if Rennera loved him so much. But he was a terrible king. Being a great husband doesn't make you a tolerable person. If anything, I'd say it makes you worse of one. If you are capable of kindness towards one person, why not be to all?"
Leera couldn't tell if the man was thinking of a response or if he simply stopped listening long ago. He was engaged not so far back, was asking her questions; he had to have been listening. The assassin wanted to know him more, figure him out, but he concealed himself so much. He might as well have been a prisoner himself, barring himself the way he did. Sure, Leera hid aspects of herself as well, but she wasn't so private as he. All she knew was that the man didn't want to be the queen's king. She knew, also, that he didn't like the queen, but that couldn't have been the only reason to decline such a high position. Who was he?
"What is your name?"
"Guard," he replied effortlessly.
"You'd rather me call you by the title you openly said you didn't want than by your actual name?" A chuckle rumbled in her chest and throat, not passing the lips. "Sounds like someone is scared to be in my position. I don't blame you," Leera shuffled, squirming her shoulders, trying to stretch them. "It does suck. But I'm curious. What have you, Sir Guard, done in your life that makes you think you might be bound and thrown in a palace dungeon like an assassin?"
