She heard the scream, but it wasn't hers; it was that of the people at the top of the stairs. Not looking at them, she instead looked down at the blade that was sticking out of her and had ruined a perfectly good dress. Why did so many of her things get ruined like that? She didn't know, but they always seemed to get ripped or torn or cut. She was going to have to buy more.
Her eyes lifted as a heavy, blood-soaked hand landed on her shoulder, and she was ripped from reality only a second after her gaze had found Daemon's, his face pale and fear being the only thing she could register.
If Daemon was afraid, she probably should be, too.
While it didn't hurt all that much to be impaled like that, the transportation was not pleasant, with her body screaming as it felt as though her blood was boiling in her veins. It cooled just as suddenly as he released her and she found herself in a very, very dark cavern that felt like it was very, very deep below ground.
Her feet slammed into the ground in a way she had never experienced before. Staggering forward, the sword still imbedded in her as he had let go of it.
That was going to be annoying, given she wasn't going to be able to reach the handle to pull the damned thing out with that angle and position. She was flexible, but not that flexible.
Turning to look at him, he seemed to be smug as she reached back, and while she could easily grab the stupid sword, she couldn't pull it out. She didn't think he had hit a single organ, sliding neatly between her lungs, and missing her heart. It was an expert shot, and she was quick to give up on trying to pull it out that way.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice strained from the lingering pain of their travels and the stinging of the sword. Her wound didn't hurt a lot, but it still hurt.
"Vincent," he said simply.
There was an awkward silence as she waited for him to give her more information, but he seemed unwilling to do so.
"Okay, why have you brought me here?" she asked after a solid minute of silence stretched between them, simply looking at each other and waiting for the other to speak.
"Megara wants her magic back," he said simply.
Going to cross her arms, she stopped, not wanting to cut herself on the sword and instead she brushed her hair back from her face, though it hadn't been annoying her.
"Megara can have it."
He looked shocked and there was another pause before he reached behind him and undid the buckles that held his mask in place. The sight of his face that had been covered was entirely unexpected. His mouth was unnaturally wide, with teeth were very similar to that of a shark, all razor sharp. Crimson eyes that glowed from within adding an eerie air to his terrifying appearance.
She noticed then that his hand was still covered in fresh blood that dripped from his fingertips, leading her to think he was perpetually being cut by a blade in his sleeve. He also had shiny black nails, but they seemed natural.
Looking up into his face once more, she found he was studying her hard with a particular interest on the silver band around her neck.
"Why would you give it up?" he asked slowly, the first question he had ever asked.
She was a little creeped out by his mouth, it was simply too wide.
"One person cannot rule two quarters of Faerie," she explained, but then she had to wonder. There was nothing to say to that, it simply hadn't ever been done before. But it made her feel greedy and there was always that threat that it would cause a problem in Faerie itself.
"Two quarters?" he asked.
Etani shrugged, looking down at the stupid sword and taking a careful grip of the point, trying to press it backwards, but it wouldn't budge an inch.
"Winter, and Ceress. I killed Illia, that makes me Queen," she said as she looked at the wall and contemplated the possibility of using it to remove the blade.
"You can try to get that out all you want; it won't come out. You also won't be able to use magic until it is removed," he explained.
She looked up at him, frowning in disgust. "If I ask nicely, will you remove it and let me go?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you are our prisoner."
"Could I not be your prisoner anymore?"
"No."
She let out a slow sigh and turned in a slow circle to examine the room. It was simple, small, with a ring hanging from the ceiling almost exactly in the centre of the space. There was no door. The passage out of the room was narrow, with only enough room for someone to squeeze through. There was no furniture and while the floor had been swept clean of large debris, it was still very dusty.
"So, Vincent," she turned back to him and jerked, having not heard him moving closer to her, and he was close enough that she might have been able to stab him with the sword had she tried.
Without a word, he held out his hand. In his other hand he was holding a long length of black chain.
Eyeing it, she shook her head and took a step back from him, but her refusal only seemed to amuse him.
"Don't make this difficult," he said softly, that creepy smile growing wider into an even creepier grin. "You'll just end up hurting yourself."
Her eyes went past him and to the passage out of the room. She thought she might be able to squeeze through it, her body narrow enough, while he would have to go sideways. She wasn't sure if she couldn't manage with the sword in her, though.
Without a word, he reached for her, and she slapped away his hand, retaliating by pivoting and throwing her knee up into his ribcage.
He was gone in an instant, his body turning, and he was suddenly at her side and his fingers were around her wrist.
She felt the cool metal curling around it, and she pulled away on instinct, but it was caught and the chain pulled uncomfortably tight around her skin.
His fingers were slick and wet, giving her a feeling of dread as he stepped back from her, and his eyes lit up in delight. She immediately tried to wipe his blood off her skin, but he was gleeful as he watched her attempts.
His crimson eyes seemed to burn into hers as he licked his lips. Suddenly her body was alight with pain. Her blood was on fire and her scream echoed around the cavern as she burned and burned.
He moved quickly as she stood frozen in place, unable to breathe or even think through the pain that started at her hand and licked up through the rest of her.
Without a word, he flung the length of the black chain up and it seemed to move of its own accord, feeding through the ring and then falling down once more. He caught it, his hand almost gentle on hers as he took her free arm and bound it as well.
The fire went out as suddenly as it had started, leaving her panting, her body feeling slick with sweat, but when she looked down, she found she had been bleeding through her pores.
Cursing him in a strangled voice, he laughed in her ear and pulled at the tail of the chain, the action forcing her arms up over her head. When he was satisfied, he twisted the chain, and it came free.
Stepping in front of her, he smiled in the face of her glare.
"You're so pretty covered in blood," he purred.
He yelped as she slammed her foot into his shin, jumping back from her, but her retaliation only made him laugh. "Don't make me bind your feet too," he said happily.
He reached out for her, and she leaned back. His fingers went to her hair and trailed through it, coating her scalp in his blood, but he seemed to be looking for something.
He didn't find it, and when he was satisfied, his hands moved to her sides, trailing down over her to her hips before his free hand slid over her thighs, trailing along her in search of weapons.
Tracing down both legs and then around to her back. But then he looked up at her with a warning glare before he felt along the curve of her backside and between her legs. There was nothing sexual about it, he was searching her for weapons. Lastly, he trailed his hands under and between her breasts, but she hadn't thought to arm herself. Nor would he still be entirely intact had she been armed.
He seemed happy with his search as he stood, considering her and the sword, before he moved around behind her and slid the long blade free of her.
Clenching her jaw in an attempt to stay silent, she still whimpered as the sword came free of her back. She sagged, but still she felt no rush of magic returning and she knew it was the chain.
"Better?" he asked.
She could only shake her head, her eyes swimming with tears of pain.
He stepped before her and cupped her face in his hand, his smile malicious.
"You can't keep me here. I have deals to fulfil," she whispered, his brows lifting with interest.
"What happens if you don't fulfil them?" he asked, his grin growing wide again at her unconscious responses to that thought.
He leant down and she would have recoiled had she been able to, his tongue trailing up the side of her face in a way that made her cringe, but it left a clear stripe on her skin where there had previously been blood.
"Please let me go," she whispered, his eyes growing amused. "She can have the throne. I don't want Winter." She said it, but she realised in that moment that no, it was an outright lie. She wanted Winter; she wanted her people. She wanted that throne. It was Ceress she didn't want. Ceress had been unintentional, Winter was always meant to be hers when the time came.
He seemed to sense her thoughts, and he laughed gently, nudging her jaw with his as he turned her head to whisper in her ear. "You are a prized catch, Your Majesty. We have never held a Queen before, and we're not going to let you go. Regardless of what Megara wants, I'm not going to kill you."
She shivered as his hand went to her waist and he pulled her against him, enjoying her repulsion at the suggestive overtones.
"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you," he said finally as he stepped back, pausing to trail his bleeding hand over her cheek and down her throat before going up her left arm. "Just in case you manage to escape," he added.
Her eyes narrowed on him, feeling thoroughly grossed out by his marking her like that.