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Anaria knew what she wanted. She'd gone through this war for a reason, for a dark reason that had been unlike her before all this, before she'd been captured and tortured and played with like a toy.
She was different now. So very different. Before, she'd thought she could hurt, could kill, but she really couldn't have. Now, she could.
They had Hakur's keep surrounded. It was the end, and he knew it. There was nowhere he could go, and that made Anaria feel good. Just like all the times she'd been trapped, now he was too.
There wasn't much fighting inside the keep. Hakur's soldiers knew they had lost, and so they surrendered, whether it was an order or not.
They found him in the throne room, sitting in his throne and sipping a glass of wine. He looked nonchalant, like this didn't faze him. Anaria didn't know if anything ever really could. She hoped to change that.
"Welcome," Hakur said, spreading his hands. He set his glass down on a side table, and then stood, came down the dais. He was heading right for their swords. He didn't appear to have any weapon on him, but he still had his magic. He could still be dangerous. "Have any trouble getting here?"
"You're going to be silent," Sol said, anger in his words. How could he not be angry? This man who was his brother had started a war over the throne, and had hurt and killed so many in his scramble for power. He'd hurt his daughter beyond imagining.
"No," Anaria said coldly, contradicting her father. "You'll be screaming."
She rushed at Hakur, sword in her grip. She saw his dodge coming, having learned from fighting him before. So, she pretended she missed him, pretended to stumble, but was behind him, gripping his wrist with one hand, the other holding her sword to his throat.
No one in the throne room moved. It was silent.
Hakur broke the silence with a laugh. "Really, Anaria? Revenge? That's your plan?"
"Yes," she growled out. How could it not be her plan, after everything he'd done to her and those she loved?
"Anaria, no," Sol said, stepping forward. He sheathed his sword. "We promised we wouldn't hurt him."
"Promises can be broken." Abruptly, she twisted Hakur's wrist. It cracked, and he screamed. Anaria withdrew her sword and let him fall to one knee, let him cradle his broken wrist against his chest.
"Bitch," Hakur hissed.
Anaria kicked him in the ribs, hard. She felt bone crunch under the force of her blow. Hakur went down, and she put a foot on his back.
"Anaria, stop this!" Sol was rushing forward and grabbing her, pulling her off of Hakur, forcing her to drop her sword.
"No!" She screamed. "Let me do this! Let me hurt him!"
"Restrain him," Sol ordered to his men, talking of Hakur. He was wrestling Anaria into his arms, and she fought hard. Sol's soldiers approached Hakur, who was still on the floor, in pain. His hands were cuffed behind him with manacles, and a magic dampening collar went around his throat. Anaria felt a cold joy at the collar, but she wasn't done yet.
"Let me go!" she cried, fighting her father, but trying not to hurt him. He had taken her in his grip and wasn't letting loose.
Sol grunted, holding her tight. "Take him to the dungeons," he ordered, and Hakur was being led out. There was a small smile on his face. Anaria wondered what that was about.
Anaria stopped fighting once Hakur was gone, going limp in her father's grasp.
"Why did you stop me?" she asked, tears making her voice shake. There was a lump in her throat. "I could've... He..." She didn't know what to say. She pulled herself from Sol's arms, turning to face him, crying.
"He's my brother, Anaria," Sol implored. "He's family. "
"Even after everything he did to me?!" Anaria shrieked. Oh , she was angry. How dare Sol call that man family? "To Girad?! To our people?!"
Sol looked down at the floor. "Yes."
"You don't understand," Anaria spat. "No one does."
" You don't understand either," Sol said, and it was the coldest he'd ever spoken to her. "You don't understand losing family the way I have, of growing up without a brother that should have been there."
"He's not your brother anymore," Anaria snarled. "He's not still in there."
"I..." Sol didn't seem to know what to say. Instead, he straightened, put a hand on the pommel of his sword. "I will be having him guarded, and you are not allowed to see him. If I hear word that you have, you will be punished."
And then Sol was brusquely leaving the throne room, boots clipping against the stone. Anaria was alone. Truly alone. She had been right when she'd said no one understood her.
Anaria sank to her knees, a sob wrenching itself from her lips.
It echoed through the empty room, and an echo was the only company and understanding she would get.