Chapter Text
Grinning, I open the door to the basement and stride down the stairs. I had finally located my nemesis and his incompetent sidekick! After a long battle, they really did not stand a chance. Unfortunate really. I had expected them to put up a tougher fight, especially that orange brat who fricking murdered me. Boy will I have fun with him. However… I have to deal with someone else first.
Immediately on my left I come to a cell with barred windows and a door. The lone occupant lies curled in the corner, chained to the far wall. Through the bars I can see that Chosen is awake, bright red eyes piercing and hard, although tired. I haven’t given him much of a rest after our fight.
“Hello and good morning, my dear prisoner,” I say as I take a ring of keys and unlock the door to the cell, stepping inside and shutting it behind me.
“I trust you've enjoyed your stay so far?”
Chosen glares at me, eyes drilling into my head, then pulls at the chains locking his wrists together. They jangle loudly, betraying his irritation.
“Oh, don't look at me like that. I could have chained you upside down, you know. After all, there are much more uncomfortable configurations than this.” I wave at the thick shackles around his neck, wrists, and ankles, keeping him against the wall.
“Where’s Second?” Chosen growls, still staring daggers at me. He continues to tug at the chains, as if he’s not grateful that I hadn’t hung him upside down. I sigh.
“Oh Chosen, you're not in a position to ask questions like that. However… Second is perfectly fine and unharmed, bedecked in almost as many chains as you are.” I flash Chosen a wide grin, which he does not reciprocate. “And please, continue to yank frantically at your shackles. It amuses me to no end.”
He immediately stops struggling to glare at me again, lips pulled back in a snarl. I cackle at him, because honestly people are so hilarious when they're held against their will.
“Let. Us. Go.”
I watch him for a second to see if he’s actually serious before shaking my head, letting out a long, deep exhale. “Didn't I just say that you are in no position to make demands?” I stride over to Chosen and he fails to hide a flinch, the chains clinking. I stop near his crumpled body, crouch and grab his chin, forcing him to look at me.
“See, Chosen, this is your problem. You never understand who’s in charge, who has the control. Do not fear, however, because I can fix that.”
Chosen jerks his face away and shrinks farther against the wall, but doesn't stop boring through my head with his gaze, which is really so annoying. I might pluck one of his lovely red eyeballs out… but one thing at a time.
Instead, I unhook Chosen’s chains from the wall and drag him to the center of the cell. He tries to struggle but is too exhausted to really fight. I bend down and attach the chain linking his wrists to a ring in the floor. Tugging twice to make sure it’s secured, I stand up and nod, satisfied.
“Now Chosen, what I ask of you is simple. Kneel.”
Chosen’s glare intensifies, but he seems to understand there’s no way out of this, so he shifts so his knees are under him and pushes up with his arms. He’s still barely upright though, slouched over so far that if I tapped him he’d crumble right over.
Annoyed, I step closer and grab a section of Chosen’s hair, jerking his head up.
“hh-!”
“Chosen, I said to kneel, not grovel. I can assure you, we will do plenty of that later. Straighten up.”
Unfortunately, he still decides to be all defiant, scowling at me and opening his mouth to issue a response, but I backhand him across the face before he can utter a single word. The force sends him toppling onto the ground.
“Hold your tongue, because you will not like what I do to you if you are incapable. And seriously, what kind of terrible posture is this?!” I wave incredulously at Chosen, collapsed, weakly tugging at the chains around his wrists. He slowly raises his head to look at me, but does not meet my eyes. Good.
“Go on…” I say, nudging him with a foot. He inhales sharply and pushes himself upright, trying to sit up more but it’s clear he’s exhausted.
I shake my head in a condescending manner. “Oh, if you needed more help, you should have just told me!” Chosen’s face reddens, and not just due to the slap. His eyes dart to the floor and I laugh. “I’ll provide some assistance, don’t you worry.”
Stepping around the chained stick before me, I take hold of the chain around his neck. Chosen stiffens and yanks harder at his wrists, trying to turn and see what I’m doing. I reach upwards and fasten the chain to a hook in the ceiling, pulling up so quickly that Chosen lets out a strangled “hrk-!” and immediately straightens so he’s not choked.
Pleased, I nod and walk back around to behold Chosen’s infuriated expression, how his eyes burn with vitriol. The chain’s pulled his neck so far up that his back is completely straight and he is unable to rest on his ankles. His arms are fully extended in front of him and keep incessantly tugging at the shackles as though they’d actually break, chest heaving to try and get back the air that the chain had stolen.
“Ah yes, perfect. Nice and straight.” I run a hand up Chosen’s side to accentuate how upright he is and he shudders. “Lovely, absolutely lovely. I hope you’ll enjoy being in this position for the next several hours.”
Chosen does not look amused at all. He scowls at me, shifting to try and find a more comfortable position, of which there are none. I frown. How can he not see what an amazing opportunity this is?
“Chosen, your posture has always been horrendous. You’re always curled into a ball or slouched over. But now, you’ll actually learn to straighten up! Isn’t that fantastic?” To prove my point, I slap him again, even harder this time. His whole body lurches to the side and he makes a choked “argh-!” noise but is held upright by the chain. My frown morphs into an ecstatic grin at how well it holds him in place.
“Look at how much you’ve improved already!”
Chosen vehemently disagrees, growling low and deep under his breath. I can tell how much he wants to fry me with his eyeballs but the power suppressing shackles prevent him. I cackle, saying, “We’ve only just started and I’ve had so much fun with you already! But what to do next, I wonder…”
As I ponder, I catch Chosen’s eyes darting anxiously between me and a table set up on the other side of the room. On top are various metal rods, a whip, and an assortment of knives. When I realize what he’s so worried about I laugh. “We won’t do any of that today, don’t worry. However, I’m overjoyed that you’re looking forward to it!”
His expression fills with revulsion and he shrinks away as much as possible, so I step closer to make up for it. “Ah yes, it’ll be so fun to try those out later, but torture is not what I’m going for right now.” Chosen’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief and confusion, as though saying “huh?”
“No, because torture gives you some amount of control. You see, you can make all sorts of choices: whether to stifle a cry, to tug away, to fight with every inch of your being. Those don’t accomplish a thing in the end, but they give you the illusion of power, of agency. They allow you the smallest bit of hope, and I wouldn’t want that.” I move away from the flinching stick to stand near the wall. “But what about…” I murmur, as a diabolical idea pops into my head. I smile evilly, reveling in the amount of chaos it would cause.
I whirl around to face Chosen and tell him, “Were you aware that Second is on the other side of this wall?” He immediately perks up and twists his head to look at me, the cuff around his neck almost strangling him at an awkward angle. I chuckle at his enthusiasm, saying “Do you think I could make him scream so loud you’d be able to hear him from here?”
Chosen’s countenance immediately darkens with an ugly kind of rage. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare– Dark if you lay a finger on him I swear I’ll–”
“You’ll what, Chosen?” I cut in, interrupting his feeble attempt at a threat. “You’ll pull at those chains until you’re bruised and bloody? You’ll scream yourself hoarse? Face it, there’s nothing you could do to stop me and you know.”
I stride over to Chosen once again, who has started jerking at the chains with renewed vigor. Why? Those things haven’t budged an inch this whole time! I scoff. “Don’t bother.” My voice suddenly becomes quiet and he stops yanking so much so he can hear me over the loud clinking noises of the shackles. “You still don’t understand who’s in control. I’ll teach you, you’ll learn.”
“When I go over there and tear every last shredded wail, cry, and moan from that brat’s tiny throat, you will not be able to help. Every time he pleads for you to come and save him will be a reminder to you of how trapped and pathetic you are. After all, what kind of chosen one kneels chained in a dungeon while his little brother is tortured?”
I approach and Chosen flinches away. He’s whispering now, eyes darting around the room as though he was in a nightmare, shaking his head over and over, repeating “no, no, no, no you can’t, no please,” as if he actually believes it. So desperate. I narrow my eyes, put a finger under his chin and push his head up to look at me.
“Yes,” I growl. Chosen fails to stifle a sob and I internally cackle in delight. If torturing Second was all I needed to make him break, it would be far easier than expected. “You’ll be able to hear every bloodcurdling shriek and gut-wrenching howl, every wretched scream and plea for mercy.” Chosen starts begging again, so distressed, his terror really is so delectable. “And once I present him to you, mangled and tortured past recognizability, perhaps it will finally hammer into your thick skull how powerless you really are.”
Satisfied with Chosen’s horror-stricken expression, I shove him away, straighten, and march out of the cell, slamming the barred door shut. As I lock it, smiling at Chosen’s panicked shouts, calling for me to take him instead, please don’t touch Second he’s just a kid he doesn’t deserve that– I say, “Enjoy the music, Chosen.”
His only response is more outraged screaming, the jangling of chains so loud I can barely hear anything else, but I’m so deliciously delighted with his suffering that I let a deep, maniacal laugh rip from my throat as I stalk down the hallway.
Chosen’s shouts fade away as I reach the door to Second’s cell. I can’t help but grin.
This will be fun.