Stayn was adamant he didn't deserve this punishment. Being tethered to Iracebeth was beyond cruel, it bordered on the most sadistic, twisted, and unconventional thing he had ever borne witness too. He felt it was far too harsh a punishment for his alleged 'crime.' He'd simply done as he was told (and rather enjoyed it). Who could honestly blame him for serving the Red Queen? She was downright terrifying, even on a good day! Yet there he was, chained to the rampaging wretch herself as he dragged her along through the outlands.
"You tried to kill me!" shrieked the queen for the fiftieth time. She couldn't quite seem to grasp that he was merely trying to preserve some degree of his own sanity. The knave swore in response, free hand reaching upwards to rub the bridge of his nose as he refrained from repeating the act of attempted murder. He did like her, deep down, once you got past the shouting, and the temper, and the random beheadings. He just liked himself a whole lot more, and when it came down to it, he'd rather not spend eternity slowly wanting to claw his other eye out.
Finally coming to an abrupt halt, somewhere knee deep in swamp water, the significantly tall individual frowned as he felt his new found 'ball and chain' walk right into the back of him. He supposed it must be worse for her, especially since she was now waist high in filth, but no doubt her head would make a fabulous buoyancy aid should it be required. Suppressing the urge to voice this theory, Stayn blew a small tuft of hair upwards before taking another step, single eye now scanning the desolate area for the very thing he'd dragged her out here for.
The thought of drowning her, had crossed his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to do something quite so undignified. What kind of death would it be for the Red Queen if it didn't involve some degree of blood? The knave sneered, opting instead to focus on something a little less morbid. The woman at his rear was the closest thing he had to a friend, and while he could quite cheerfully inflict several kinds of pain on her, he didn't think it would do too much good. If nothing else, he wasn't even sure she could be killed by conventional means. She was the Keith Richards of Underland!
Releasing a long drawn out sigh, just as Iracebeth opened her mouth once more, the scarred man clenched his hand into a fist, and bit down hard on his knuckles.
"You tried to kill me!" she shrieked once more, accusatory finger now jabbing him in the chest.
"Feel free to return the favour." He retorted sharply, curiously wondering how exactly he'd ever seen the appeal of this woman.