0kay, s0, it has been f0rever since I wr0te a fanficti0n and well, here y0u g0.
Pairing: GamKar, Erikar, EriAra, S0lFef, GamTav, EqAra.
This fanficti0n c0ntains graphic depicti0ns 0f g0re, rape, vi0lence, and t0rture. Y0u have been warned. THIS IS ALS0 AN AU.
The mutantblood's heart raced as he jumped from the castle gates, panting heavily into the chilled air. The snow beneath had broken his fall, but its thickness did not aid as he stood and tried to run. His body was slim and fit; he had run much farther before in such harsh conditions. Something was different though, he was panicking. He had nowhere else to run, oh why was he such a fucking idiot?! Out of anger towards his second-in-command he went after the highblood scum leading this war, and if he went back he'd surely lead them to the Caverns. Where was he to go? Should he sacrifice himself and surrender to the cages in the cellar, spiked within that would drain him dry for the gory orgy the indigo-blood found such pleasure in? His stomach twisted even tighter as he made it to the slope, how unfortunate! The snow had melted under the sun and frozen into ice…This was a suicide run…
"GET BACK HERE YOU LOWBLOODED MOTHERFUCKER!" indigo eyes burned into his soul, and an arrow struck him just as deep. He gasped and held his shoulder as his mutant, burning red blood splattered on the snow. The shock of it all made him slip and slide head first down the icy slope. That did not stop the indigoblood though, he followed on his horse, his indigo armor and clubs glistening in the moonlight. He took a hold of a shrub in order to slow his momentum. The branches snapped beneath his fingers but he continued to grasp the branches. He raised his sickle and dug it into the bark of the adjacent tree. This stabilized him for a moment and allowed him to stand. Where did the indigoblood go? Trails of mutated, bright red blood would surely lead the highblood to him, he had to get going.
He considered pulling the arrow out of his shoulder for a moment, but ceased entertaining the thought when he noted the highblood's horse approaching him…Its host gone. His red eyes widened, he stood his stance. He held on to the surrounding trees as he looked around. There was no flicker of indigo in the moonlight, nor did a smear of indigo come through the shadows from the light reflecting off of the snow. Perhaps the highblood had fallen off of his horse and rolled on down the slope himself to certain doom? He took a sigh of relief and turned the other way, it was safe to retreat back to the caverns now.
"Hey brother," he screamed as a rough hand pushed him down. He began to slide again, faster and faster he slid. The highblood just behind him, laughing manically as they slid toward the pond, the sickle in the lowblood's hand being forced out of his hand and across the ice from the impact. He reached for it before the world came to a halt. His head hit the ice hard; a cooling sensation hit the back of his head. His bright red blood staining the ice just like the indigo shadow looming over him; Makara was his name. Gamzee Makara, descendent of the Grand Highblood, leader of his civil war and ruler of the land he created dominated by high-ranking landdwellers. So many had died at his hand, so much blood bathed his body…His throne room was the same place the cages hung from the ceiling. The stench was unbearable…That was the last image that ran through Karkat's mind until the head injury took him.
Gamzee examined his latest hunt as he lied motionless upon the ice. His mutant blood pooling beneath him; such attractive, red blood that made him shiver in adoration. Never had he come across such an entertaining lowblood with such attractive blood. Attractive, yes, that was the right word. This particular rebel was attractive; he'd make an interesting pet. His heart wrenched at the idea of wasting his beautiful, peerless blood in the cages, in the dungeons. No, this special blood deserved to matched in with his own noble blood.
"Highblood!" his trusted, right hand troll, Zahhak called out as he arrived. He was without a horse. He had no time to gather one. He drew his arrow, made from special material so it would not break, as well as his bow. He drew the arrow through the bow, ready to strike the unconscious mutantblood when his Lord raised his hand and signaled him not to.
"My Lord, it is not in my place to question your will, but what does this lowblood deserve but a death fitting someone of his class and dogma?" Zahhak asked as Gamzee picked the smaller troll up. It was an easy task for a troll of Gamzee's caste, he was strong and powerful physically, his mental state would prove otherwise.
"His blood is quite attractive, I want him," he smirked. Sweat began to stream down the blue-blood's face, but he nodded nonetheless.
"Shall I prepare the cages?" he asked.
"No, his blood is far too motherfuckin' precious to waste so idly," Gamzee called his horse forward. Once the animal arrived he placed Karkat on the saddle, smirking wickedly before climbing up as well to hold his limp body in place, "I'll keep him,"
"Y-Yes sir," Zahhak nodded, trudging through the snow as he followed his master back up the icy slope.
The surface he was lying upon was not ice, nor was it rough and cold like the ice he recalled bashing the back of his head on. In fact, the apparatus his body was lying upon was soft, warm, and silky. Was he dead? Was he a ghost living in the ruins of his own world? No, he was too solid. The weight around him and composing him was too real for someone of an ethereal world. This was the real world, the war-torn, ragged world he lived in. A soft, gentle hand was caressing his hair and face; Terezi? Did that blow to the head put him in a coma? Was he in a hero's bed while his matesprit caressed his face?
He'd like to think that, but then the realization came upon him he had been left at the mercy of Gamzee Makara. Once in his hands, it was near-impossible to escape those monstrous clutches. Subjugglators did not show mercy to lowbloods. Granted, they found blue-bloods to be useful, but anything a shade lighter than the blood of the legendary Captain, Vriska Sekret, was considered filthy and only fit for manual labor in serving the highbloods. The Subjugglators had taken their role as the dominant class so far as to challenge the Condesce and Dualscar; two kingdoms clashed-all hope had been lost for those of teal-blood and below with few exceptions. Trolls of his mutant-blood were doomed-no…He was the only troll of mutant aside from his ancestor, whose ashes and teachings were as dissipated as his blood would soon be down the drains beneath the cages.
"I know you're motherfuckin' awake," a raspy, yet somehow wholesome, voice filled his ears. This voice was so familiar that it forced Karkat's skin to creep and tense the muscles around his spine. He rushed yourself up and make to strike him when he felt a horrid weight at his wrists. His began to fill with anger and distaste as he looked the depraved troll over. His face was stained with messy face paint-no doubt made from the blood of his victims, and his messy locks of thick, black hair shadowed his face like the hood of some grim reaper. His indigo and black, polka-dotted, signed robes did little to hide the monstrous body that had ripped apart troll after troll for the sake of his ecstasy. No doubt this was the descendent of the Grand High Blood, too young to look the part of a full monster but well on his way.
"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE YOU HIGHBLOOD PIECE OF SHIT!" Karkat spat, lifting his legs to kick him when the highblood grabbed the chain that bound them and pushed them down.
"Keep talking like that bro," he smirked as he leaned over and cupped his chin, "I might have to motherfuckin' gag you, and those are some pretty lips you got,"
"W-What the fuck…?" Karkat stuttered. Was that a…compliment? He'd never heard of the highblood acting like this, was he fucking purring too? He gasped a bit as the highblood leaned in to graze his lips. The chains of his wrists hit his face. Not a scratch was left against his skin, as trolls had tough skin, but there was an imprint of momentary pain. The highblood grit his teeth and gripped the back of his head tightly. Bandages were torn from their place, stitches even, and the mutant blood cried out in agony.
"Be GRATEFUL I motherfuckin' spared you, mutant blood," Karkat's eyes widened a bit, "I ain't never seen such lovely blood, a pity to motherfuckin' waste such a miraculous color…"
He leaned into his ear, "My pet,"
"PET?!" Karkat spat, pushing him off and away. The robe he was wearing himself was of the highblood's, sewn with his sign and his color. He grimaced at the clothe before sinking his teeth into it. He tore at it in disrespect.
"Hey now, what are you motherfuckin' doin'?" the highblood scowled as the mutantblood's sharp teeth tore the seams of his robe. It was kind of cute, actually. A real troll would tear at their captor's face, but he rather to tear at his signed robes. He watched for a moment, starting to smile slightly, when he realized he shouldn't be tolerating such disrespect from a lowblood. He tore a knife from its sheathe against the wall and grabbed the mutant's blood's head again, holding the serrated blade to one of his sensitive horns. Karkat was frozen as the blade idly touched one of his nubby horns. Those were incredibly sensitive.
"You know, it kind of a motherfuckin' humiliating sight to see a troll with broken horns," Gamzee smirked, "Done justly, its motherfuckin' chill. Cut off to be my trophy, now that's another story,"
He ran the blade over the base of one of his horns, drawing Karkat to whimper a bit. A slight shiver racked his body. This sort of submission pleased the highblood.
"I'm kinda curious bro, how long that pretty motherfuckin' blood of yours would pour out of your head," he licked his lips, "How pretty that face of yours would look drenched in your bright red blood,"
Karkat's heart began to beat faster, in fear.
"I'm wondering how motherfuckin' miraculous you'd look drenched in your pretty blood," Gamzee's voice began to sound ravenous, "But I'm all up and chill with sparing you,"
He set the knife aside, "Cutting off your horns wouldn't be of much use to this motherfucker,"
Karkat released a audible sigh of relief, as if he had just gotten out of the water after nearing a death by drowning. He coughed, holding his chest. Gamzee smirked, reaching his hand forward to pet the mutant's hair. He knew his pet was upset and he liked it.
"You should tell me your motherfuckin' name," Gamzee told him, "So we can all up and get chillin' like bros,"
His pet was obviously adverse to the idea, he knew he was trapped though. If he wanted to live, he'd have to play by the highblood's rules. Everyone knew that if they did not obey the highblood certain death would ensue.
"Karkat," he spoke shakily.
"My name is Karkat Vantas," Gamzee purred at the scowl he received, "And it's staying that way you shit stain on Alternia's surface,"