Before
Everything had gone to plan. Everyone who could oppose was slain or enslaved. For the first time in years, Sebastian could breathe without a threat to his power. He watched silently as the last of the Rebels were marched into the room that had become his throne room. His.
The sore faces of his enemies stared up at him. Their eyes were sunken and hollow. Their goal for the lands freedom ultimately gone. It had morphed into survival. The guards cruelly pulled the chains, which dug into their wrist. Sebastian's felt like it hammered to a stop when he saw her.
"Isabelle," he crowed.
He could hear his voice echo in the room, which was flooded with both Endarkened and those that he had allowed to stay, not free of him, but free of will. They all turned to the girl.
She was painfully thin, her wrists bruised. Her hair, which Sebastian had seen in all its dark glory, was short and thin. Malnourishment plagued the whole group, her not being withheld from their small pocket of petty fighters. Sebastian stood up, his steps echoing in the room. His spine tingled as everyone in the room, save for the Rebels, stood and bowed their heads. Isabelle's eyes stared ahead, the gold-flicks glistening with anger. Her back straightened. He could she her arms strain to hold herself up, considering the weight of the shackles.
"How does it feel?" Sebastian purred, his face a mask of pure satisfaction.
He watched her face closely, looking for any sign of fear. He found nothing.
"How does what feel?" she spat out.
Sebastian delighted at the strain of her voice. It was empty almost, lacking the life that he had often heard in his time in disguise as the real Sebastian Verlac.
"To lose. To have seen everyone around you fall to my armies. To see the destruction of everything you love."
Isabelle's face revealed nothing. She stared at him, her eyes holding a shattering defiance that even the whip marks that screamed on her back couldn't break. No wonder they'd lasted so long. Sebastian suspected that Isabelle had held everyone on her shoulders. Too bad it had been for nothing. Everyone that had followed her was behind her, chained, pained and with the bitter taste of defeat in the back of their throats.
Her lips remained shut. He stepped back and headed back up the steps to his throne. He sat down lazily and peered down at Isabelle.
"Well, it's great that you were caught now. The new silent brothers have come up with something that will certainly make you useful to me. Be glad, you'll get to live. Better than wasting away at the camps Isabelle," he said.
She turned away and looked back at the rest of her group.
"Anything you want to say?" Sebastian asked.
Isabelle turned back and leaned to one side, her hips tilted to one side.
"Now that you have everything, what will you do? No one to oppose you, no one to challenge you, and a long immortal life waits for you. And more revolts will follow. Rome fell, something unimaginable at the time. What makes you think you can keep the world beneath you?" Isabelle sneered.
Her voice seemed to revive those chained behind her, who lifted their defeated heads. Their eyes glistened now with defeat and defiance. Sebastian's lips thinned as he pressed them together. He'd thought they'd given up. He'd thought they were tired. But now he knew that if they were let go, they'd reform and go right back to chipping away at his empire, with Isabelle at the lead.
The court of bowed heads stirred, waiting for a response from their leader. Sebastian signaled and Amatis strutted forward. She grabbed Isabelle by the shoulders and slammed her to the floor. Sebastian watched in satisfaction as Amatis began to whip her. Sebastian didn't even count how many, but simply sat waiting. No sound escaped Isabelle. Just harsh breaths as each hit landed. She tried to stand, her limp hair a curtain around her face. Each time, Amatis slammed her down, her boot digging into the other girls tattered skin. Eventually, Sebastian stood up. His steps echoed in the whole room as he stepped close to Amatis.
"Your Grace?" Amatis asked.
Sweat beaded her forehead. Sebastian took the whip from her hands. Amatis bowed and backed away. With everything he had, he beat down on Isabelle, who said nothing. Her breathing was rapid and pained, as if the whip was not only tearing through her back but through her lungs. Once again, Sebastian brought the whip up and back down. Isabelle's breathed in sharply, but no noise escaped her. He stepped around her and bent down, his face close to the back of her head. He could see her clenched fists. Every vein seemed to protrude.
"You should've given up a long time ago. It was over a long time ago," he sneered into her ear.
When the whip met skin this time, she screamed. It was one full of agony that even the Endarkened could feel it in their cold hearts.