KGWrites

Alyx

Aaron Trident’s Estate, City Outskirts, Kingdom of Aldiron

Idiot.

Alyx’s arms were aching. They were held up above her head, her wrists chained to a hook in the room’s ceiling, causing her to hang from them and slowly twist back and forth. Her toes just scraped the floor beneath her, but she couldn’t seem to find the energy to stand up properly. It was like the floor was just slightly too far away for her to reach.

And yet, despite the aches from her tired, stretched muscles, and the bruises that she could feel forming along her throat from the wire that had been pulled across it, Alyx’s greatest source of pain currently didn’t come from her imprisonment at all.

Months of wishing, hoping, fucking praying for Iona to show any damned interest. And the minute she actually kisses you, you freeze up? You are a fucking idiot, Alyxandra Cobalt.

It had been that rage, that white hot disappointment in herself that burned at her very core, that had kept Alyx fighting back panic and pain for the past few hours as she’d been dragged and beaten by Spyder and his men, as Iona’s ring had been torn from around her neck and she’d been strung up here like a carcass in an abattoir. A deep, searing hot feeling that she’d clutched onto and held.

Once I’m out of this, I’ll make it right. I’ll kiss the life out of that princess.

The thought made her smile, even as her muscles pulsed with pain.

Behind her, she heard the door open and heavy booted footfalls walk into the room. Straining, she tried to turn her head to face the newcomer, but the chains kept her facing away. Still, she didn’t need to wait long to see who was in the room with her.

Spyder Xeros slowly stalked in front of her, his muscled arms bear, the muscles shifting beneath shadows as the small candle lighting the room flickered. The iron headed mace was still strapped at his side. His other hip now held two short handled throwing axes, Alyx’s axes.

“Been waiting a long time for this.” He growled. Alyx snorted.

“Been haunting your dreams have I Spyder? Been seeing my face in your sleep? Or maybe just my boot?” She spat back, forcing a grin to her face.

The punch came hard, but it didn’t surprise her at all. Spyder’s meaty fist slammed into her face. She spun away from him with a rattle of chains, her eyes streaming and a burst of warm, coppery blood in her mouth as her lip split. The spinning pulled at her shoulders, straining her muscles further, causing agony to spread across her back. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out.

Instead, she spat blood on the ground and began to chuckle.

“I bet you’re the talk of every working girl in the city. All tree, no plums.” Alyx taunted.

It was a risky tactic. But if Spyder wanted her dead, then she’d already be dead. He’d said the boss wanted to speak to her, and she’d be damned if she was going to put up with Spyder longer than needed. Pissing him off, pushing him to the edge, might just cause Trident to step in. Or get this over with faster.

The next punch hit her in the gut, and she felt her stomach twist and turn as the air rushed from her chest. Followed quickly by her breakfast.

Spyder avoided the vomit and instead stepped to the side, a single massive hand closing around Alyx’s throat and seemingly effortlessly lifting her to be eye to eye with him. Which mercifully actually removed some of the strain of hanging from the chains.

“Pick the next words carefully girl, or I’ll rip your fucking tongue from your head. And won’t that be a disappointment to your precious princess!” He snarled, rage causing a vein to bulge in his thick neck.

If mentioning Iona was supposed to frighten Alyx, it did. But if that was supposed to make her compliant and quiet, then clearly Spyder hadn’t been paying attention. Alyx leaned her head forwards, her voice coming as a harsh whisper as she struggled to find breath beneath Spyder’s hand.

“And I bet that tree’s got a crooked trunk too.” She whispered, grinning at Spyder with bloody teeth.

Spyder’s grip tightened around her throat and all attempts to find any air ceased entirely. Alyx felt her vision begin to blacken at the edges as her mouth tried to gasp for air on instinct. A terrifying fear that she’d misjudged and that Spyder might just kill her after all entered her mind and she began to flail her legs weakly towards him in panic.

And then, right as all colour faded from the world and everything seemed set to slip away, a voice split the air.

“Enough Xeros! She’s trying to get you to kill her.”

Suddenly the vice on Alyx’s throat released and air came rushing back to her lungs. Followed by colour and sound. She sagged on the chains, coughing and spluttering, gasping desperately for air.

It was only as she hung there that she focussed on the voice that had interrupted Spyder’s near murder of her.

It was male, and well spoken. It had a certain tone to it that Alyx had heard plenty in the upper city and the palace, superior and cold. Alyx could barely see, let alone think, but she knew she’d heard that voice before, even if she couldn’t clearly remember the night.

It was the voice of a demon in human flesh.

The voice of Aaron Trident.

As Alyx gasped and retched, coming back to her senses and hanging limply on the chains, she could hear the scraping of someone dragging a chair across the floor and placing it in front of her. Then the shuffling of someone sitting down into it.

Weakly, and more than a little reluctantly, she lifted her head.

The chair was turned so the back faced towards Alyx. Sat upon it, his elbows resting on the back and his chin rested gently on his hands, was a disarmingly handsome man.

His eyes were dark, and narrowed as he analysed her, his head tilted slightly to one side. His hair was well groomed, a light sandy brown that was swept back on his head. Only one hand showed off his pale skin, the left was hidden beneath a black leather glove. His clothing was fine, dark cloths and silks trimmed with gold. Atop it he wore a long teal blue sleeveless jacket with a high collar. Alyx made note of the clothing’s misshapen look, like beneath it was padded or reinforced with armouring. An amulet bearing a large pearl in the centre was worn at his neck. Inked onto the pearl was a trident, pointed downwards and splitting the ocean before it.

A longsword was sheathed at his side in a deep blue leather scabbard, its hilt was wrapped in the same blue leather and trimmed in polished silver. There was something oddly familiar about it, and Alyx kept feeling her eyes drawn down to it. Though she couldn’t fathom why the sword would be what held her attention with this man.

Particularly when she could see his face.

He was clearly handsome, with a strong angled jawline and a straight nose. Had Alyx developed any form of appreciation for men whatsoever, she might have called him attractive.

Were it not for the scars.

Marring the smooth features was an ugly web of pitted scarring that stretched up the man’s neck and across the left cheek to just below his eye. The left ear was little more than a stub of darkened flesh, hidden beneath his hair. In the flickering candlelight the shadows caught and danced and stretched on the maze of twisted flesh, making him look like the demon Alyx knew him to be.

Aaron Trident smiled at her, and Alyx felt ready to throw up all over again.

“My apologies for Spyder’s behaviour. He can be a tad… overzealous at times.” Trident said in that same honeyed voice. “Though to be fair, you did provoke him.”

“Provoke? I’ve met kids who can take more insults than Spyder can.” Alyx rasped, looking over to where Spyder now stood leaning against the wall behind Trident, arms folded across his chest. “And they punched harder too.”

Spyder pushed off the wall, his face reddening and the vein in his neck bulging so hard Alyx was sure it would burst. But Trident simply lifted his gloved hand and held out a finger. That action alone seemed to placate Spyder and he moved back against the wall with a snarl of anger.

“Loyal hound you’ve got there.” Alyx observed, turning back to Trident.

“He knows when to listen, and to stay quiet.” Trident responded, not looking towards Spyder at all and instead remaining fixed on Alyx. “You could do with learning a thing or two from that.”

“Don’t go in for staying quiet. Or obedient.” Alyx told him. Trident chuckled.

“That much is certainly true. Hardly obedient for a royal guard to go around kissing the one she’s supposed to be protecting.” He agreed.

There was something ice cold at the heart of his words. An unspoken promise that simply knowing about Alyx and Iona’s encounter with one another was dangerous. And not just to Alyx.

Alyx felt dread settle in her chest. He’s not afraid to threaten the royals. What chance have I got here?

Trident tilted his head when Alyx remained silent, mock surprise on his face.

“Seems you have remembered how to stay quiet after all. Good.” He sneered, standing from the chair and stretching. He flexed his gloved hand in a way not too dissimilar to how James did his one with missing fingers, like it was stiff in the cold. The mirroring made Alyx’s skin crawl.

“You know what they never tell you about burns? How much they itch when they heal. It’s like being on fire all over again.” Said Trident quietly, beginning to pace the space in front of Alyx, forcing her to turn her head to watch where he went. His tone was strange, almost conversational.

“For months, half my body burned over and over and over. Thanks to your brother.” He continued.

“Must have been terrible for you.” Alyx deadpanned and Trident scoffed out a short laugh.

“Thank you. It was.” He replied, his tone earnest, as if he was really moved by her false sympathy. “All that time, agony, driving me mad. And I kept the face of the one that caused it focussed in my mind. I entertained a thousand fantasies of how I’d get even with your brother when I caught up to him.”

He walked out of Alyx’s view, somewhere behind her and to the right. Twisting, she tried to spin around on the chains to see where he was, what he was doing. But every movement tightened the chains, strained her exhausted shoulders and quickly spun her back in the other direction. There was a strange stretching sound behind her, like someone twisting rope tighter than it could go. Then Alyx’s stomach dropped into the chasm her chest became as she heard the unmistakeable rasping of a blade being drawn across leather.

“Maybe I’d take the rest of his fingers. Or slowly burn each part of him, let him recover and feel the agony I felt, and right as he got used to it, I’d burn him again.”

He reappeared in her view and Alyx felt herself begin to tremble on the chains. Trident held two things in his hands, the first was a long, wickedly sharp butcher’s knife. The same kind he used to cut off James’ fingers. That he used to kill mother. For all Alyx knew it might have been the same blade.

The other thing in Trident’s hands was a leather whip, coiled around his wrist like a snake. Something about the way he held it, the way it seemed so natural in his grip, made Alyx fear it more than the knife.

“But maybe it’d hurt him worse if it wasn’t him at all. Maybe it’d be better to bring pain to the little sister he’s been so desperate to protect for so many years.” He went on, his tone still conversational, like chatting with a friend over a tankard. He twisted the knife, so that the wicked point held just millimetres from Alyx’s eye. She couldn’t focus on it, it was so thin and close to her.

“Maybe I could cut off your fingers, complete the work I began but on a new canvas. Or carve your tongue out of your smart mouth. I’m sure Spyder here would love to remove each of your teeth, one by one.” He stepped close, drawing the knife down Alyx’s cheek. Alyx felt its hot bite slice cleanly into her cheek and a single tear of scarlet blood run down her face. She winced in pain, but did everything she could to hold still, not wanting to make it any worse.

Every word Trident spoke expertly wormed its way into Alyx’s mind, gripping her like a vice in visions of the horrors he described. She trembled beneath the knife, her breath coming thin and weak and not daring to close her eyes lest he take it as an excuse to begin.

A second passed, the threat hanging in the air.

Another.

And then the knife lifted cleanly from her cheek, Trident wiping it clean with a rag and sighing like he was bored.

“And yet, all these things will be far more satisfying once dear James gets here to watch.”

“You’ll be waiting a while. He’s not going to be stupid enough to come here.” Even as she spoke, Alyx knew she was lying. James would come for her. Just as she’d come for him.

“Now that’s either stupid, or the worst lie you’ve ever told. We both know he’s coming, that he’ll do anything to protect his little sister. Especially from me. Like a real hero.” Trident taunted. “Not to worry, I’ve made sure to have a hero’s welcome prepared for him, ready to reunite him with the family he misses so.”

Something hot boiled beneath the cold dread in Alyx’s chest, a rage that she hadn’t expected. James looked after her, that much was true. But she looked after him too. And no smug monster was about to threaten her brother while she could do anything about it.

“Keep flapping your fucking jaw Trident, because one day, I’ll cut it off your fucking face!” She snarled, straining forwards against the chains, ignoring the burning pain in her shoulders. Her toes scraped the ground as she tried to push herself towards him, without success.

The knife whirled, cutting the air with a soft whistle and stopping just barely in front of Alyx’s face. Trident tutted and clicked his tongue, his face more amused than anything.

“Ah ah. This is hardly a way to treat your host. Especially when he’s been gracious enough to keep Spyder from smashing every bone you have to dust. I’d suggest a more… refined approach to me.” His tone was almost disappointed, like he was admonishing a child’s bad behaviour.

“Besides, I’m saving you both from having to watch what happens when Draconeus takes the city. When the Falcons finally stop flying. You don’t want to know what’ll happen to dear Iona. You should be thanking me.” Trident continued. Something in the way he spoke suggested that he knew what would happen, or at least suspected. Alyx couldn’t help but picture Iona tied to a burning stake again, executed brutally before her fallen city. Screaming for help that Alyx could not give.

“Then why not just get it fucking over with then? Why not just fucking kill me?” She asked him. Trident grinned back at her, a wolf above wounded prey.

“Because I want to watch all hope leave your brother’s eyes. I want him to know he failed. For all the years of pain. So no, I won’t be killing you yet Alyx.” He walked out of her view again and she heard the clinking sound of him putting the knife down on the table he had drawn it from before. Silence hung in the air for a moment as Alyx tensed.

Then, the door behind her opened, and closed again.

Letting out a long breath she had been holding, Alyx sagged on the chains.

Don’t be a hero James, stay awa-.

And then the air was split by the loudest cracking sound Alyx had ever heard, following by pain exploding across her back as the whip lashed across her. She bit down hard on her lip, swallowing the scream that rushed up her throat. That was a satisfaction she would not give him. Tears welled in her eyes as the initial pain of the lash faded into fire that spread across her body. She could feel hot blood running down her back, blazing a trail like a lava flow.

“Of course, not killing you doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.” Trident’s voice came from behind her. Still casual and conversational as ever. “A lash for every agonising year of burning pain, I think. That’ll make a good start. Twelve lashes seems rather fitting, wouldn’t you agree?”

Then the crack came again, and so did the pain.

Alyx held down the scream, but not the tears, feeling them roll down her cheeks and mingle with the blood from the knife cut and her split lip.

And then it came again. And again. And again.

Trident was clearly an expert with the leather whip he used. Every lash precise and measured, crisscrossing Alyx’s back in a latticework of agony. And every second lash perfectly followed the one before, driving the cut deeper and doubling the screaming, blazing pain.

After eight lashes had sliced her back to ribbons, Alyx felt she couldn’t take any more. She could feel the shirt she wore sticking to her as blood ran down her back in rivers. She hung limply from the chains, unable to even find the energy to move, or to tense against the incoming attack. Tears streaked down her cheeks, dripping down to the stone floor in little splashes of washed out red.

Let it stop. Please. Let it end.

And then, like the Gods had heard her. It did.

Because a new sound, just at the edge of hearing, crept into the air.

The barking of hounds.

“Ah! And here he comes. The big brother to the rescue.” Trident said, as if James had arrived late to an appointment.

“Many apologies Miss Cobalt, but we’ll have to resume this session another time. It appears I have a guest to greet.” He continued, before his attention turned to the other person still in the room, who had been watching Alyx’s torment with a sick glee.

“Spyder, I leave Miss Cobalt in your hands. See to it that she remains conscious. But do not kill her. We still have so much to reminisce about once her brother joins us.”

“Yes, Mr Trident.” Spyder agreed, pushing off the wall and stepping towards Alyx, dragging the chair away from her with a scraping that seemed to echo off the walls endlessly.

Then the door opened again and this time, Alyx could make out the sounds of footsteps striding from the room as Trident left.

As Spyder’s massive shadow fell across her, Alyx’s eyes opened, and she took a long, steadying breath. Licking her lips once and swallowing the coppery taste of her blood, Alyx pushed down the pain and the fear and the despair.

James was coming, and he was walking right into a trap. This was no time to feel sorry for herself.

This was the time to get even.

Trident thought he had the Cobalt siblings beaten. That they were out of time. But Alyx knew with a cold iron certainty that he was wrong. They were not out of time.

Aaron Trident was.