"Samus? Sam, wake up!"
The normally soft, but now demanding voice of the Altean prince breaks into my peaceful reverie, momentarily shattering the dream. Confused at first, I look around, and I see, through the cloak of darkness that shrouds our cell, the familiar - and, in this situation, reassuring - face of Marth, my only light in the current darkness.
"Marth, what -"
I gasp. Stopping me short is the uncomfortable - even slightly painful - feeling of stitches pulling at my skin and muscle, across the whole width of my lower abdomen.
I look down at my flat stomach, and see that I'm indeed right. A red, slightly swollen, uneven mark snakes its way across my skin, just below my navel.
But why?
I look back at Marth, who is now kneeling beside where I'm lying on the cold, hard floor.
"What happened?" I ask him.
Gently tracing his finger along the freshly stitched-up line, but not hard enough to cause me any discomfort, he replies, "That bastard of a dragon was going to do it while you were fully conscious, but somehow he changed his mind."
Hang on, that made full sense to me. The last thing I remembered before I woke up beside Marth was the dragon roughly shoving a syringe containing a suspicious-looking liquid right into the veins of my lower arm, as I lay defenceless on his lab table.
But what did he do, exactly?
"Do what?" I ask.
"Prevent you and I from procreating," is Marth's answer.
I look down at my stomach again, as the harsh reality of my predicament becomes all too clear.
I shudder.
I thought so.
That doesn't really surprise me.
Groaning quietly, I sit up. Sleepily, I run my hand through my now above shoulder-length blonde hair - Seetam doesn't really take kindly to prisoners having excessively long hair, but I suppose I'm lucky that he didn't shave it all off - and slowly rise to my feet. The stitches tear at my skin, almost as if in protest, but I ignore them as I walk slowly and carefully over to the bars of our cell.
"Do you think there's any conceivable way to escape this vile place?" I ask, looking out through the slim strips of slightly rusted iron into the blackness beyond.
I know Marth's answer before I turn around.
"Probably not," he answers grimly, a worried look carved on his normally innocent-looking face.
I knew it.
I walk back over to the blue-haired prince, and, after we both spend a few silent moments looking into each other's eyes, as if the solutions to all our problems could be found by searching deeply into the other's mind and soul, he holds his arms out to me.
Suddenly slightly tearful, for a reason I can not comprehend, I wrap my arms around him, as he does to me, and lay my head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.
As Marth gently runs his hand through my hair - what's left of it - I say to him, without looking up, in a voice that sounds dry and hoarse with tears that have not yet been shed, "At least nothing's happened to you..."
Yet.
I know it's only a matter of time before something does.
There's a pause.
"Don't hold your breath, Sam," I hear Marth say to me, a slight quaver in his voice.
We stay silent for the next few moments, with me listening to the sure, steady rhythm of Marth's heart. I'm so focused on letting the calming beats relax my nerves, that I don't hear the sound of Seetam's footsteps down the narrow corridor, until he's right outside our cell.
I know, without turning around, that he's looking at us. I can almost feel the dragon's piercing yellow eyes upon my back, as he silently takes in the scene before him.
Aside from that, I feel Marth tense underneath my hold, almost in a protective manner, but I know that he's probably right.
Maybe Seetam does have malicious things in mind for him, after all...
No.
Marth pulls me ever closer as I hear the click of the lock and Seetam entering our cell.
"Marth, wold you kindly make an effort to seperate yourself from Samus here? You and I have got some work to do."
"Work"?
I don't like the sound of that.
Not one bit.
Marth makes no answer, but Seetam doesn't waste any more time. A few seconds later, I feel the dragon's strong grip around my waist, forcefully prising me off the prince. To resist, I try my hardest to cling to him, but to no avail. The dragon roughly throws me to the floor, into the corner where I woke from the anaesthetic he gave me earlier, which makes me gasp in pain.
I see from where I am on the floor, the dragon forcing Marth's arms roughly behind his back, and securing handcuffs around his wrists.
I must do something!
"Don't touch him!" I blurt out, uncharacteristically, but Seetam dismisses me with a glare.
"Oh, I think you'll see that I need to, dear Samus," he purrs, with venom in his smooth voice. "Marth here and I have some... business, to attend to."
At that, I see Marth swallow uneasily. Whatever "business" Seetam intends to carry out, surely it can't be good, and he knows it.
I go to get up from where I am in a crumpled heap on the floor, to try and stop the vile dragon from getting any further, but at the sight of this, Seetam roughly prods Marth forward out of the cell with his pointed claws. Right before they leave the cell, Marth looks back at me, a distinct "Don't worry, I'll be okay," sort of look in his eyes, and soon I see both him and Seetam on the other side of the rusting bars, Seetam only stopping to lock the door behind him.
As he locks the cell door, trapping me once again, he looks at me and says, calmly, "Don't worry, Samus. These rooms aren't soundproof, after all."
The meaning of that simple statement becomes clear to me.
Oh no.
The dragon smirks at me, before turning back to his soon-to-be victim.
"Right. Now move it!" I hear him bark at Marth, as he again jabs him sharply in the middle of his back, making him flinch a little, and soon they're both out of sight, behind the solid, heavy, black metal doors of the labyrinthine underground laboratory.
I hold my breath, my heart beating at twice the standard rate, as I wait nervously for what I know I'm going to hear in the rooms close by.
The heart-wrenching sounds of my lover in agony.
Turns out I don't have to wait too long.
Before I've even reached the side of my cell nearest to the door, I can hear perfectly what's going on in the room next to the one nearest to me. The dragon was right. Sound travels a bit too easily in this place...
As I listen, I hear the smooth yet sinister voice of the evil dragon from his experiment room.
"That should keep you nice and still," he purrs, as he audibly restrains Marth with heavy iron chains, before beginning his bout of torture.
I walk over to the wall, and listen intently, as I involuntarily hold my breath.
"Why would someone like you," he begins, "have any sort of use for this?"
I'm guessing that he means Marth's jeweled tiara, given to him by the sister he never saw again.
I'm right.
"You don't understand," Marth replies, somewhat hotly, but Seetam ignores him, and carries on with his mocking.
"I hope it doesn't mean what I think it does," he says, snickering to himself.
"Of course it doesn't!" I hear Marth say in reply, sounding even more angered. "I love Samus, not some guy."
Hearing him say that makes me feel oddly happy - but I'm still nowhere near relieved.
Marth continues, bravely.
"Besides, you've got it wrong. That was my sister's."
There's a pause.
"What happened to her, may I ask?" Seetam casually asks, not sounding particularly bothered as he does so.
I can barely hear the reply, Marth utters it so quietly.
"I don't know."
Again, there's another pause.
Then I hear Seetam's dragon voice again.
"So what would you do if the last link to her was destroyed right in front of your own eyes, hm?"
I tense. It doesn't take a genius to know what he plans to do now. He's pretty much given the game away.
Marth gasps audibly, as the meaning sinks in.
"No," he cries out. "No!"
His last cry is accompanied by the sound of crackling dragonfire.
I gasp.
I can almost feel Marth's anguish, as he watches his last memory of his dear sister melt down in front of his eyes.
"No," I hear him say again, quietly, in a voice so tearful it could almost be an anguished sob.
It's not over, though. I know full well that Seetam has other things in mind.
There's silence again - well, not really, considering I can hear Marth's anguished sobs - before Seetam continues.
"Well, Marth," he casually asks, "what would you do if I destroyed you, hm?"
I hear another slight gasp from Marth.
"Physically, at least."
I can feel the tension in the air as I await what is to happen next.
Marth doesn't answer, which seems to annoy Seetam. At least, I presume it does.
It obviously does, as the next thing I hear is the sound of a sharp object being viciously slashed right through skin, and a cry of agony that can only be Marth's.
"Marth!" I can't help but cry out, but I place my hands over my mouth when I remember that this place isn't soundproof. Who knew? Seetam could have heard that.
"That'll destroy your pretty face," I hear Seetam say, venom in his voice.
That allows me to piece it together - Seetam must have raked his sharp claws deep into Marth's face, disfiguring it in the process.
Which makes sense, considering how vain the prince can be at the best of times.
As I continue to listen closely, ear to the wall, I can just about make out the sound of Marth's quiet sobs and whimpers of agony. Hearing that pitiful sound is enough to break my heart forcefully in two, even for a tough woman like me.
Seetam continues, ever so calmly. Does he ever lose his cool? If he does, he sure doesn't show it often.
"Oh, it's not over, Marth, dear prince," he purrs, "The worst has yet to come. Well, perhaps the worst by your standards, anyway."
I'm confused - until I hear the sound of an electric razor.
Then I figure out what that means. Marth, who could seem very preoccupied with his fabulous looks a lot of the time, was going to really get it now.
Oh dear.
I don't hear much after that - except for the odd "Would you ever hold still?!" or "Keep still - or else I'll do much worse once I'm finished here," and the sound of Seetam jerking on the chains and pulling Marth roughly back into position.
Involuntarily, I hold my breath.
A few moments later, I hear Seetam switch the razor off, and again there's silence.
Seetam is the first to break the silence.
"Well, well," he purrs, as I presume he looks Marth up and down, "I dare say you look a bit more... masculine, now, for lack of a better word."
He chuckles evilly, before continuing.
I hear him remove the chains that were restraining Marth, and say to him, "Now, if you don't mind, I've got... other things to do."
I shudder. I'm pretty sure I know what he means by "other things" - what he did to me earlier, he is obviously going to do the equivalent of that to Marth...
I hear the sound of ripping fabric, as Seetam swiftly removes Marth's clothing, and then I hear Seetam leading him over to his lab table.
I shudder again at the thought of the gruesome deed that the wicked dragon is going to carry out.
I hear Marth's winded gasp as Seetam pushes him onto the hard, solid table, and then I hear Seetam say to him, after fastening the straps around his arms and legs, "Good. Now I can get on with my... work."
Marth swallows. I can almost feel his dread-filled anticipation of what is about to happen to him, and the tension in the air.
The next thing I hear is metal scraping against the hard surface of the wall, as I presume Seetam sharpens his knife to prepare for his task, and in the background of that, a steady, ever so quiet whimpering from Marth.
I sympathise with him, really. The cruel creature took away my womanhood a few hours earlier, after all, and now, he was going to take away Marth's manhood.
In the most excruciating way possible, it seems.
After Seetam decides that his blade is sharp enough and fit for his "work", as he so mildly put it, he calmly walks back over to where Marth is, helpless as he lies on the table, held down by the leather straps.
As he anticipates what is to happen to him, with a sense of dread, Marth's whimpers grow louder and more furtive. If there's one thing about that guy, it's that he's not afraid to express what he really feels on the inside, unlike most guys I know.
And now, he has to prepare himself for what yet might be one of the most agonising experiences of his life.
I swallow.
Please stay strong, Marth. Please...
After a brief pause, the dragon says, in that smooth, calm purr of his, "Well, dear prince, if, by some miracle, Samus was still able to bear your children up to this point, she certainly won't be able to after this. Not after you've been... tampered with, a little. Which is exactly what I've to do."
I hear Marth inhale sharply, as he braces himself.
At this point, I do too, knowing that even if I can't physically feel everything he does, I'll be able to hear it, loud and crystal-clear.
A split second later, I do.
The sound that reaches my cell is an intense outcry of agony, of such excruciating pain that it makes me feel quite uncomfortable listening to it. I cover my ears to try and block out Marth's screams of agony, but that does little to help, as even if I couldn't hear anything, I know I would still be able to feel it in the bottom of my heart.
The agonised cries of pain continue, as well as a few desperate pleas for mercy, as I'm forced to remain here and listen.
As I continue listening, I hear Seetam's smooth voice say to Marth, "Do you really think I'll stop now? Really? How naive of you. If you stop struggling and just let me do this, you might make life a bit easier for yourself, you know. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can be back in the cell with Samus. Although unable to... produce any offspring, that is."
I don't hear a lot more after that - maybe that's because I don't want to hear - but when I listen again, I notice that it's gone quiet.
Seetam must have ended up having to anaesthise Marth, just as he did for me.
I feel strangely relieved at that. Even if Seetam continues to tamper with the poor guy, in his own words, at least he won't feel a thing.
I go to walk back over to the other side of my cell, but before I get anywhere, I hear the quiet sound of the dragon placing something into his mouth and chewing it up, before swallowing it.
Disgusting.
Fully realising what that must have been, my stomach turns over, and I feel like throwing up in the corner of the cell.
How could he have done something that... barbaric?
What he already did was bad enough, but that...?
It's a good thing that Marth was unconscious before he did that.
Whatever. I'm not going to stick by the wall if I'm going to hear more.
I walk over to the far corner of the cell, and sit down on the floor. That's all I can do as I wait for Seetam to finish operating on Marth.
As if "operating" was the right word. "Torturing", would be much more fitting in this case.
As I sit in wait for Seetam to (hopefully) bring Marth back into the cell, I do something most uncharacteristic of me: I, without trying to stop myself, silently let a few tears drip down my face.
Marth doesn't deserve this. Neither did I.
I look down at my lower abdomen, and again take in the uneven red line across the skin. Why did this wicked soul feel the need to do all these things to both of us? Why? It really wasn't fair. We didn't do anything wrong...anything...
I hear the sound of Seetam's padded footsteps, and his claws clicking against the hard floor, and I know that he has returned.
Hopefully, I look up, and I see that he has brought Marth with him.
Not that you would easily be able to tell it was him.
Not any more.
As Seetam carries the prince back towards our cell, with him still unconscious in the dragon's arms, I take in the full extent of damage that has been unjustly inflicted upon the poor guy.
His clothes, once in perfect condition, with not a stitch out of place (Marth, being the diva that he is, would, by the looks of things, utterly refuse to wear anything that was starting to look the least bit tatty), now practically hang off him, gaping holes and rips in the fabric showing the slightly scratched skin underneath. His hair, once so long and luxuriant and just, I don't know, so fabulous, has now been reduced to the faintest blue stubble, where Seetam had (rather cruelly, considering how much he cared) shaved it off.
Perhaps the worst, though, is the jagged, scarlet row of scratches that have been raked viciously and deeply into the skin of his face, starting just above his left eye and continuing, in three harsh lines, diagonally down his face, right down to his chin. A steady stream of crimson blood continues to dribble down from the dreadful wound, as I look on in horror.
My heart breaks at the pitiful sight, even more than it did when I heard all the awful things that the dragon had been doing to him.
He can't feel it now, but when he wakes up, he's going to be in a lot of pain.
A lot.
Seetam stops at the entrance of the cell, and, key in hand, without letting go of Marth, he opens the cell door, enters, and without, saying a word to me (odd – I would think he would have a few malicious words to say to me after that), he roughly sets Marth down on the floor in the corner of the dark cell, but not roughly enough to wake him.
Once he has done this, he gives me a funny look, that borders between a sneer and a smirk, before he locks us up again, with nothing but our own selves and the darkness for company.
I stare on after him, with a look of burning hatred, before I turn back to Marth.
What was left of him, anyway.
I go over to where the cruel dragon laid him in a heap on the floor, and kneel down beside him. Ever so gently, I raise his head so that I'm cradling it in my lap, and stroke my hand gently across his once-perfect face.
I pull my hand away, and I see smears of thick, wet blood on my fingers. That doesn't stop me, though. Ignoring that, I continue carefully tracing the outline of his face, softly, ever so softly.
"Marth," I whisper softly to him, as I gently try to wipe the blood away with my hand, "Marth, can you hear me? Can you?"
"Marth, wake up!"
I don't expect a reaction until perhaps a few minutes later, but soon I see that Marth has begun to stir from his deep drug-induced slumber.
Gradually, he opens his eyes, and we both silently gaze at each other for a few moments.
"Sam? Is that-"
He cuts his question short to let out a pained gasp, and I grimace in sympathy with him.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" I ask, in a soft tone, as I continue stroking his face.
"Yeah," Marth replies, "A lot."
He makes to get up, and I rise, helping him to his feet. Still slightly unsteady, due to the anaesthetic, he stands up, and I can see how much of an effort it is for him to keep the pain contained. If I still feel a little sore from my operation earlier, Marth must be in agony.
Hesitantly, I put my arm around him, and with the other one, I slowly run my hand over what is left of Marth's once long, blue hair.
"Be strong, Marth," I say to him, looking deeply into his eyes, and as I do so, I notice that the blood from the deep scratch marks on his face has started to congeal.
"Don't worry, Sam," he replies, sounding strangely calm, yet still with a noticeable hint of pain in his voice, "I think the worst is over."
"You really think so?"
"Yes. We may still be prisoners, but our hearts will always be free - and together."
Gently, he leans forward and kisses me on the lips. I return the sign of affection, taking in the contrast between his soft mouth and the rough scar that now runs down through his lips.
He's right, I think. As long as we have each other, we can get through this.
Bravely.
Together.
We'll never give up the fight.