Even from where Diva's standing, held against his will in a corner of the room, he can smell the heat coming off of the iron brand. He whimpers, hating how frail his voice sounds, hating how it echos in the hostile room he's trapped in, hating the man who has his arm in an vice grip that's preventing him from bolting and the man who's holding the brand.
"Shut up," the man snarls at him, tugging his arm harshly. The tendons in his shoulder ache in protest and Diva has to bite his tongue to stop himself from making another noise. There are going to be bruises where the man's fingers are pressing into his skin, but he's helpless to do anything against someone bigger and stronger than him. Instead, he focuses all his efforts on stopping the tremors that are wracking his body. He's not nearly as successful as he hopes to be.
The brand clangs as the man holding it knocks it against the side of the fire pit that it had been resting in. Diva flinches back, an involuntary motion. Both of them men turn to look at him; the one holding the brand moves close and Diva's heart leaps into his throat.
"No," he pleads, all prior thoughts of keeping quiet flying out of his head. "No, please!"
The man holding him yanks him forward, adjusting his grip so that he's got Diva's shoulder and left wrist firmly in his grasp. "Shut up!" He snarls again, digging his fingers in for emphasis. "And keep still!"
The brand comes ever closer and Diva gives up all pretense of trying to behave. He thrashes wildly against his captors in a desperate attempt to wrench his arm free. When that proves fruitless, he aims a kick at his captor's shin. His foot connects with the other's leg and the man lets him go with a hiss of pain. Diva manages to wiggle halfway out of the other's grasp before he recovers.
His cheek stings as he's slapped across the face hard. The force of the blow stuns him, leaves him gasping for air and in his daze his captor manages to pin him down yet again, taking care this time to step on his feet. "Fucking brat!"
"Quit messing around," the man holding the brand says. "Let's just get this over with before I have to reheat the brand."
"Then get to it." The man holding Diva spits out. For the second time, he's tugged forward and it hurts just as badly this time around. "Do me a favor and make it hurt, yeah?"
The other snorts as Diva stares wide-eyed at the red hot iron that's now hovering just above the exposed flesh of his forearm. The man snorts at him, shaking his head. "Prayers won't help you now kid."
Diva hadn't even been aware this his lips had been moving. He has the span of a heartbeat to take in his situation fully: the prayers still tumbling unbidden from his lips, the forceful grip on his arm, and the smell of fire singeing his nose. Then the brand his moving down swiftly and time stops.
His arm is burning.
It's a searing pain, one that leaves him numb to everything else around him. He screams, in pain in fear, in gods only know what else. Diva's body goes limp and had his captor not been supporting him he would have fallen to the floor. The smell of fire has now mixed with the smell of burnt flesh and the scent makes him want to vomit as it invades his nostrils.
"HELP!" He howls. There are white starburst dancing across his vision and the world is spinning. Vaguely, he's aware of the men speaking to him but he's too far gone to process what they're saying and his world goes black.
He wakes up in a cold sweat, shooting upright off his bed. His breath comes in ragged pants that rattle around in his chest before he expels them shakily. The burn scar on his arm itches.
A dream, he realizes slowly. Nothing but a nightmare of a time long since gone. He takes a shaky breath, running his hands over his face; it's been years since he dreamed about the horrors of his childhood.
"Diva?" There's shifting next to him and then Sera's head is poking out from the blankets. She yawns, nose scrunching up, and rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Are you alright?"
The sight of his baby sister does wonders for his frayed nerves. Diva manages a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and prays that she won't be able to notice in the dark of the room. "I'm fine," he says quietly. "Just a bad dream."
Sera blinks at him, tilting her head to the side. "Do you want to talk about it?" She offers softly. He shakes his head.
"Nothing to talk about." There's more force in his words than he'd intended there to be and he bites his lip lightly. "I'm sorry to wake you up Sera; go back to sleep." A warm hand finds his own in the dark and squeezes.
"'kay," his sisters says around another yawn. She tugs him back down onto the mattress, snuggling into his chest as they collapse. Automatically, he reaches around to embrace his sister, holding her more securely against him. "Night Diva."
"Goodnight Sera." Within a few minutes, her breathing evens out and she's sleeping soundly tucked up against him. He shifts slightly, careful not to jostle her, brushing some of her hair back from her face.
Without her to distract him, his dream comes back vividly. Diva shudders, bringing his hand up to run his thumb across the brand on his forearm. Enough, he scolds himself. Let the past die. He bends his face down to bury his face into Sera's hair, taking strength from his sister. If he repeats that thought over and over, maybe he'll find the peace he's been searching for for so long.
He does not sleep for the rest of the night.