Angsty April is Angsty
Thanks, lovelylytton.
Rated R-ish for disturbing images.
Summary: The Commander takes a Prisoner...
The Prisoner is brought to the Commander's chambers with bloodied legs and chained wrists. It adds some colour and interest to the snow-white skin. Naturally, the prisoner kept silent during the interrogation from the guards. The bruises are just welts now, but they'll show up black-against-white by morning.
But in the blackened blue eyes, underneath the glaze of pain, there's still a flash of defiance. How sweet.
The Commander ties back a mane of straight, pale hair, cuts away what's left of the Prisoner's clothes, removes the circlet of rank from sweaty, matted dark hair, chains the slim, beaten form, kneeling, to the wall.
But outside of that, the Prisoner is left alone.
***
The next morning the bruises are vibrant against the Prisoner's skin.
Blue eyes watch with horror as a blast of energy melts down the holy circlet, the gold slithering like a snake before it's poured into a mold. A life for ingots.
When the Prisoner screams, the Commander gags that well-formed mouth with a dirtied glove and backhands the Prisoner across the face, watching dispassionately as dark hair whips back from the blow and lacerated limbs jerk in their chains.
***
The Little One wants the Prisoner. The Commander can see it in the Little One's feverish eyes, the sharp and lovely curve of rosy lips. The Little One would unchain the Prisoner, shroud that body in blossom petals and smother that soft mouth with hard kisses. A spoiled child with a shiny new doll. The Prisoner would be dressed in the finest jewels and silks and cuddled close as delicate hands snapped a neck like a twig.
The Little One follows the Commander out of a meeting with Her Majesty, pouting and sulky. "Why can't I play with the pretty? Just a little? I've been so good!"
"What would you do with a mere prisoner?" the Commander asks.
The Little One blushes and smiles like a young girl at her debut. "Well..." Words are whispered into the Commander's ear.
The Commander raises an eyebrow. Perhaps the child is more clever than originally thought.
"You can play with the prisoner. But I'll be watching."
***
The Little One dashes into the stone dungeon flushed with giddy excitement. The Commander watches detachedly as the Prisoner shrinks back in terror as the newcomer approaches, all brilliant smiles and waves of golden hair and lethal shards of crystal dangling.
"Oh, you are so lovely. So very exquisite," The Little One croons, caressing the Prisoner's face with slim fingers. "Such flawless skin. Such lovely lips. How could you have resisted?" This towards the Commander sitting in a chair watching them. But with the air of a grand prince, the Little One leans down, jerks up the Prisoner's chin. "I'll be the first."
Lips meet in a passionate kiss and the Prisoner struggles only for a moment as the scent of poppies and a flash of light fill the air.
When the Little One lets the Prisoner go, the beautiful blue eyes are a shade darker, the graceful hands have stopped struggling. The Commander raises an eyebrow; the child has even greater power than previously imagined.
Worth watching, certainly. A terrifying prospect.
***
When the Prisoner is finally released from captivity, there are no wounds, no visible scars. The Little One managed the task far better than anticipated, and the Commander watches with a faint smile as the Prisoner's friends realize, with mounting horror, that the brave, pure-hearted compatriot that they had known has been replaced by a mindless enemy. The Prisoner takes up arms against former allies, shouts treason underneath a blood-red moon, swears eternal allegiance to those who'd taken him as spoils of war, who'd beaten and broken him in blindingly white marble halls.
Through the computers in the Central Lunar Command Room, Venus watches as Endymion turns his back on the four men who've been his brothers in all but blood since birth, declares Elysian a State of the Silver Alliance, and announces his engagement to the heiress of the Serenitas Empire.
Strong, capable fingers run a brush through the Little One's hair, putting up the spun-gold locks in their trademark buns, and as Serenity giggles, Venus nods in satisfaction.
The power of the throne is now secure.
They did well.
Rated R-ish for disturbing images.
Summary: The Commander takes a Prisoner...
The Prisoner is brought to the Commander's chambers with bloodied legs and chained wrists. It adds some colour and interest to the snow-white skin. Naturally, the prisoner kept silent during the interrogation from the guards. The bruises are just welts now, but they'll show up black-against-white by morning.
But in the blackened blue eyes, underneath the glaze of pain, there's still a flash of defiance. How sweet.
The Commander ties back a mane of straight, pale hair, cuts away what's left of the Prisoner's clothes, removes the circlet of rank from sweaty, matted dark hair, chains the slim, beaten form, kneeling, to the wall.
But outside of that, the Prisoner is left alone.
***
The next morning the bruises are vibrant against the Prisoner's skin.
Blue eyes watch with horror as a blast of energy melts down the holy circlet, the gold slithering like a snake before it's poured into a mold. A life for ingots.
When the Prisoner screams, the Commander gags that well-formed mouth with a dirtied glove and backhands the Prisoner across the face, watching dispassionately as dark hair whips back from the blow and lacerated limbs jerk in their chains.
***
The Little One wants the Prisoner. The Commander can see it in the Little One's feverish eyes, the sharp and lovely curve of rosy lips. The Little One would unchain the Prisoner, shroud that body in blossom petals and smother that soft mouth with hard kisses. A spoiled child with a shiny new doll. The Prisoner would be dressed in the finest jewels and silks and cuddled close as delicate hands snapped a neck like a twig.
The Little One follows the Commander out of a meeting with Her Majesty, pouting and sulky. "Why can't I play with the pretty? Just a little? I've been so good!"
"What would you do with a mere prisoner?" the Commander asks.
The Little One blushes and smiles like a young girl at her debut. "Well..." Words are whispered into the Commander's ear.
The Commander raises an eyebrow. Perhaps the child is more clever than originally thought.
"You can play with the prisoner. But I'll be watching."
***
The Little One dashes into the stone dungeon flushed with giddy excitement. The Commander watches detachedly as the Prisoner shrinks back in terror as the newcomer approaches, all brilliant smiles and waves of golden hair and lethal shards of crystal dangling.
"Oh, you are so lovely. So very exquisite," The Little One croons, caressing the Prisoner's face with slim fingers. "Such flawless skin. Such lovely lips. How could you have resisted?" This towards the Commander sitting in a chair watching them. But with the air of a grand prince, the Little One leans down, jerks up the Prisoner's chin. "I'll be the first."
Lips meet in a passionate kiss and the Prisoner struggles only for a moment as the scent of poppies and a flash of light fill the air.
When the Little One lets the Prisoner go, the beautiful blue eyes are a shade darker, the graceful hands have stopped struggling. The Commander raises an eyebrow; the child has even greater power than previously imagined.
Worth watching, certainly. A terrifying prospect.
***
When the Prisoner is finally released from captivity, there are no wounds, no visible scars. The Little One managed the task far better than anticipated, and the Commander watches with a faint smile as the Prisoner's friends realize, with mounting horror, that the brave, pure-hearted compatriot that they had known has been replaced by a mindless enemy. The Prisoner takes up arms against former allies, shouts treason underneath a blood-red moon, swears eternal allegiance to those who'd taken him as spoils of war, who'd beaten and broken him in blindingly white marble halls.
Through the computers in the Central Lunar Command Room, Venus watches as Endymion turns his back on the four men who've been his brothers in all but blood since birth, declares Elysian a State of the Silver Alliance, and announces his engagement to the heiress of the Serenitas Empire.
Strong, capable fingers run a brush through the Little One's hair, putting up the spun-gold locks in their trademark buns, and as Serenity giggles, Venus nods in satisfaction.
The power of the throne is now secure.
They did well.