A/N: Written for one-word whump prompts on tumblr: torture.

It wasn't every day that Rowena ended up captured. Sure, it had happened quite a few times over the centuries, but she was smart. She could avoid her enemies.

Or so she had thought.

But now a witch by the name of Ethel had her chained up, hanging by her wrists. Ethel was older than she was by at least a century, all dark hair and ivory skin. Her green eyes were cold and hard, and they were flecked with fiery anger as she gazed upon her now. Ethel wasn't much bigger than her, but somehow she'd found Rowena, she'd drugged her tea with a spell, and now she was here, in her dark basement that was only lit with a few flickering, black candles. She unfortunately didn't want anything from Rowena – otherwise she would give it to her. She just wanted to have a bit of fun, and get back at the witch who had made a fool of her in front of the Grand Coven just before she'd been cast out.

Wanting revenge did make sense to Rowena. She had a plan of her own that had been set into motion she couldn't wait to see to fruition, so she wasn't necessarily mad at Ethel. At least, she'd thought that until the pain started.

First she'd rolled down her sleeve and cut into her forearm, drawing blood that was soon dripping down her arm and onto the floor, making her struggle against her chains that held her powers at bay, and let out a whimper.

Then Ethel was holding a chalice underneath the blood flow, collecting it. Rowena began to feel faint with fear, her body tingling as she began to sweat. Her life force felt hot against her skin, even as her arm began to feel cold inside.

Ethel took the chalice over to the rickety table beside Rowena, and placed it in the middle of a circle and symbols. Rowena cried out as she began to chant.

"Shut it, you wench!"

Ethel's focus didn't waver, her awfully sing-song-like voice powerful, and clear.

Rowena tried reaching out with her foot to kick her as she half-paid attention to the spell. She knew what Ethel was going to do, and that fear was now sitting hot in her belly.

No, no…

Ethel added something to the chalice, a bit of crushed up, charred bone, and then it sparked.

Rowena lost her footing as it felt like her blood was on fire. She screamed, tears beginning to stream down her face. It was eating her, eating her body, her mind. It lived in her blood, each heart beat too much for her to bear, burning. She was burning.

The cut on her arm was nothing compared to this, any pain she had endured recently was nothing compared to this. This was all there was. Flames, consuming her, gnawing away at her existence.

It was like a force of nature as it lapped away at her, something that she couldn't fight, and she couldn't stop screaming. Her throat already began to ache, her breaths not able to properly come to her. But even then her voice left her: whimpers, sobs, deep, deep moans of utter distress.

After what seemed like hours, the fire stopped, and Rowena was left hanging there, soaked through with sweat. The cut on her arm had clotted and scabbed over, the blood having soaked through her black dress down to her chest. Ethel wasn't there.

Rowena hadn't even been aware of her leaving.

Then she was carefully coming down the staircase in front of her, and she crossed her arms.

"Why have you stopped screaming?"

"Spell's… Spell's run its course," she rasped out.

"Ah. Then I shall enact another."

"No!"

Rowena didn't know where the fight in her came from, but she dragged herself up, and was uselessly kicking, hoping she could be set free. If only she could use her magic. She'd get out of these damn chains and make Ethel's own blood boil, see how she liked it.

More blood was taken from her, and then another spell was being done.

Rowena couldn't break the witch's concentration, and soon her gums began to ache. The pain grew and grew, soreness spreading throughout her mouth, feeling impossibly swollen. Her jaw dropped open. Aching, aching… And then a tooth fell out.

No!

It was soon followed by others, Rowena choking on blood, crying out as her teeth fell out of her mouth.

No, she recognized the spell Ethel had done! This shouldn't be happening to her. It wasn't possible, not with the kind of magic she'd performed.

But still her teeth were falling out, white tumbling to the floor, red dripping after it. She was coughing, blood thick and metallic in her mouth and throat, panic flooding her system. She was going to die like this.

Not going to die,she told herself.

She wouldn't die here, wouldn't die now, not like this. This wasn't on her terms, wasn't the brilliant death she had planned out for herself.

Then things clicked into place. The magic Ethel had done, why the spell didn't make sense.

She wasn't actually losing her teeth.

It was illusion magic.

Rowena ignored the blood in her mouth and started laughing, to which the other woman gave a start of surprise.

"What are you laughin' at?" she asked. "Last I checked a witch losing her teeth has nothing to laugh about."

Rowena spit blood from her mouth, even though she knew it was fake. "You're good with illusion magic, dear, but not good enough. I understood the incantation. You'll have to try harder."

Ethel screeched and threw her arm out, wiping the various ingredients and tools for her spellwork off the table, everything crashing and clattering to the rough, stone floor. Rowena started at the loud noises, adrenaline jolting through her, and she was left shuddering in the wake of it.

Then the witch gave up on using spells. She took a knife to Rowena's bare back, leaving her screaming till she had no voice, blood dripping down onto the floor, her dress utterly ruined. Her entire back was screaming and crying out in bright flares of agony, and Rowena lost consciousness.

Then there was more fire, more heat, her exhausted and worn body trying to desperately arch away from it. But there was no escape. Sizzling met her ears, the sound sickening. But then she stopped bleeding.

Ethel had cauterized the wounds.

Then she was slashing them open once more, Rowena letting out an animalistic keening noise from it, unable to hold her voice in, unable to do anything. Her tears had run dry, and she was tired. So tired.

Maybe if she just closed her eyes…

Darkness took her.

There was kicking – she felt the pressure of it, felt the aches – and then she was on the floor. More kicking, against her back. Rowena couldn't move, only moaned.

Then she was dragged, up the stairs, body getting scraped and banged, through the house, out the back door, and dumped in the woods, left to die.

Rowena came to hours later, the dark of the night all around her, owls hooting and bugs chirping. She breathed in, breathed out, air cold and refreshing in her lungs.

Painstakingly, crying out as she did so, she picked herself up off the ground.