1625

The battlefield was a wreck. It was decorated with the dead corpses of Danes and Spaniards. They were already reeking with flies depositing their maggots in their bloody crevices and black crows, feasting on their open wounds. It's a beautiful scene indeed.

I fancied Antonio. Yes. He was very broad in built with skin so warm, hair so vibrant, eyes that bested even the purest of emeralds. But there was something I really like about the man before. Maybe I am drawn to his blonde hair or his fair skin or his taller stature or his broader body that's showing through his tattered and shredded uniform. It made this Spaniard's body looks weak in comparison.

Ooh, but those eyes. Strong. Hard. Yet. There was passion, so much of it. I really like that. I like that very much. And then his face! I've seen a lot of men from the North and I haven't seen anyone that even comes close to him. All have them had huge noses, depressing eyes and weird teeth but he wasn't anything like that, he was perfect besides the freckles.

I watched through my puppet's eyes, tainting the green gems with my sickening violets and blacks. As long as that piece of broken quartz is stuck on this stupid Spaniard's neck I will not have to go house searching again. But I am interested in this exotic house from the North.

I inched my puppet's body, trying so hard to resist and warn of his friend to go away. But it's futile. It has been decades or so. He's been twitching ever since, trying to fight me from playing my games. But I'll have none of that. My fluids ran through his popped veins—all of them. I forced him to smile as wickedly as he could when—

The man named Matthias tried to push himself up as best as he could. He crouched, arm wrapped around his gut and other hand gripping on his halberd to support his weight.

"A-ayúdame, mi amigo…" His pale mouth spoke fluently. I love a cultured man."Usted tiene que parar." He successfully pulled himself up, towering us. I love a tall man.

"…Antonio, we don't have t-to do this." He moved closer placing his huge hand on the shorter man's shoulder. I feel hot.

"I know this isn't y-" he gasped and breathed shakily, falling down to his knees as we twisted our dagger deep to his chest. I made sure to give it a slight tug.

That's for making me blush.

"Parar." An old voice got the attention of the demonic green-eyed man. "I think that is enough, Spain."

I made Antonio move back obediently, twitching like he had mange. His eyes were nothing but vacant dinner plates and I already have one in mind. A little obedience for the man who gave me this body. His eyes flashed possessively as if craving for something. Of course it's the strapping man in front of us. I whispered tenderly to his king's ear. The old man eyes went wide in surprise, maybe in slight gusto even.

"Yo lo quiero…" the grin on my face as I pointed the bloody finger at the Dane who was now standing strong once again in spite of the serious stab.

I cannot wait to have you.

"Si eso significa detener esta locura ... lo hare" Denmark answered bravely before pulling out the bloody dagger.

Seriously, I have to have you.

I hid a small knife behind us. I made sure to lattice it with my poisonous essence. Not enough to kill him but enough to make him weak—he has destroyed many buildings with his bare hands, I had to be careful—but at the same time keep his body in its gorgeous condition for the long ride I have planned for him.

"Oh…no-no, my smart friend. The whole reason you've been sent here was because you're already mine." The Spanish devil moved closer, caressing the taller man's cheek sensually.

"Hv-hvad?" Matthias growled when we lodged poisoned knives in his sides. He fell to the ground weakly, feeling the world go black. I can see it, the slow emptying of consciousness and the gradual spread of my poison along his veins, crawling like black worms casually eating out the remains of his strength.

I smirked, turning my back to face what remains of the pathetic platoon of soldiers. "Make sure you drag him along. Lock him up the dungeon. I have many things I wish to do to such a splendid specimen."

I always liked dark places. The only problem is that in a body like Antonio's I would need light to see. With a torch in hand, I trekked down the flight of cold stairs going to the dungeon that had been holding something precious to me for the last six months.

Matthias had been given the standard torture in the hands of the most qualified people for the job. There were rounds of punches and kicks, whips, hot metal, scalding water, drowning, dagger throwing, disappearing swords, and being force fed some very horrid things.

Third floor.

For my energy to survive and keep his body in working order, he had to be had raw meat and bones. Remarkably, he had the teeth to grind bone.

Second floor.

On the thirds week of torture, I decided to further combine his regimen with sexual degradation. He was forced to take a scabbard in him. And I had made preparations to stick in three men just to see if I can draw some blood out of him. Of course, I was successful. But to make things more complicated, I wanted to make him love it.

Last one.

The stairs were covered in frozen crystals, shining beautifully in a pale bluish-purple. Crusts of translucent ice painted the walls and each step made it spread more and the crystals sharper and deadlier. I am obviously unwelcomed.

Anyway, the pleasure part is what frustrates me. I have made numerous attempts, slipping the strongest aphrodisiacs in his feeds, hire the best men, fish for his prostrate, but no. Nothing has happened and what is worst is that he has learned to fake his hardness—by the way he is so huge, I haven't seen anything like him since Rome—and he has now developed a knack to orgasm only when he needed to which was when my pathetic henchmen shouted 'COME FOR US BITCH! WHORE!' and some more pathetic names.

Finally in the dungeon.

The basement was covered in magical ice—glowing blue and white. It started under the naked Dane. It extended out, bursting like a star made of beautiful crystal. The rays went across the room, going up the walls and connecting at the middle of the ceiling. Collections, clumps of ice quartzes and spiring crystals started to crawl the paths, intensifying the heavenly glow that was tinted just a little bit of orangey white and bluish purple against its dominant white-blue. The rest of the cellar was then covered with thin sheets of blue, white cracks, swirls, and frosts in them, expanding between the thick glowing lines of crystalline protrusions.

And his skin.

His skin started to glow cold, pure, bright white before my eyes—my host's eyes anyway. His dried blood started chipping away from his skin. His forearms was covered in frosts and icy cracks and he started to grow paler, letting the iridescent frosted swirls and cracked lines—like that of a weathered frozen lake, an enchanting floor of ice—paint the rest of him soft blue, making layers and layers of wispy white fogs and webs of blue cracks. His wounds also glowed, mending them almost immediately—sickening to my eyes was the action of undoing my creation. Though he looked frozen, I couldn't help but notice how animated he still looked, how it still looked as if he was still made of flesh. I wanted to touch him, touch him even if it would kill me.

He already knew that I was there, fist clenching even if they were nailed to the board behind his head. His luminous skin made the trails of blood from the countless slashes more evident. Even if he had a blind on, I could imagine the disgust in his eyes. And his cock remained soft, taunting me with his unbreakable spirit.

I snickered. I do love a challenge.

I pushed him down to the floor, board clanking loudly, weighing down on his hammered palm. His chin smashing against it. I stuck Antonio's cock in him—smaller but he did have the best cock in his land. I pounded him, only getting grunts from Matthias—filled with contempt.

He still hadn't registered any of this as pleasing even though I was aiming dead-on his prostrate, slamming the leaking cock in over and over again in an animalistic pace.

Fuck this.

I got my pocket knife and I dragged a huge mark down his spine, erupting like a red waterfall on both of his already bloodied sides. I thrusted harder, also forcing a stick to further fill him, I grabbed his dripping cock, a mix of blood and sweat. I bit down on my lips hard enough to make my host bleed. I know that this is all just an act—a very believable one. Why can't you just surrender?

Matthias gasped but still nothing. He has yet to succumb, what was it that made him so resistant to this? Even if he hated it, he should've felt the tiniest bit of pleasure. I know Romulus did. I know Sadik did. I know Antonio did.

I buried Antonio deep, moaning loudly as I filled my captive's hole. My knife was dangerously pressing on his tailbone, nails digging to hi strong, cold sides. Fists desperately trying to find the strength to un-nail themselves from the thick and prickly plank of wood under them.

I pulled out of his torn entrance, still spewing cum. I loved seeing the blood trailing down his powerful legs. I loved seeing the newly reopened scabs that I personally marked to deepen his wounds. He's mine. I smeared what must've been his fecal matter across his bruised behind. It was strong and putrid, crumbly in my host's fingers. Perfect to remind him of his stature. I continued to plaster him with brown even so much as to disgrace his matted mane and beard that would've been so regal to look at.

"I am tired of waiting." My voice seemed to reign over that of Antonio's. I latched my claws on either side of the man's temples, making him scream as sappy black poison entered through his blood-splattered temples. My hands started to scraped to his nape, my fluids healing the long nail marks.

"You're mine now." I chuckled darkly, watching as the man started to laugh hysterically, incessantly, maniacally. I loved how unsettling it was—my laugh being meld with his and slowly dislodging from this boring vessel named Antonio. I felt my essence being transferred, my bind on Antonio slowly slipping away and unto him when—

BOOM!

When I opened my eyes I was thrown across the room by a strong pulse of cold energy. The winds were strong and the snow was blinding. It was a blizzard that took the form of a sphere bulging out around its middle and thinning into small spirals on its ends. The ice around the walls started to move, sounds were sharp like moving broken glass across. They were starting to move towards me, threatening to dissect me and mount me in the wall like a prized kill.

I bit down on my cracked lips. The flattened crystals started to cave towards me, crisscrossing like a deadly cocoon. Spiky, sheer, glassy ice slowly covered Antonio's then his wrists like hand cuffs that were piercing through his ligaments. Rough carpets of ice chipped under my palms, scraping me like broken glass.

He is her son.

I could feel my blackened blood boil, forcing to melt through the ice. I leapt, separating from the ice coffin, to lodge myself on him again only for the same pulse to completely plaster me to the jagged, cold diamond-filled stone walls of the cellar.

I fucking hate you.

I cursed, looking up the wall as if picturing the smug smirk on that damned woman's face. I should've known—no wonder his eyes looked familiar.

Then I heard him laughing. Not out of sane joy though but of twisted happiness. I could feel my smirk crawling.

Finally broken.

I walked towards him, trying to be careful. When I stepped on the ice, it glowed more—a little violently. A long bass sound resonated, shaking me to my very core. Whatever it was, it didn't want me near him but oh well. It was slippery, a little wet but it was starting to get cold, frozen crystals coalescing as a web up the Spaniard's pants.

I dare not take a step back. I cannot touch this enchanted ice, it would kill me.

"I know just what to do with you..."