Author note: I do not own Count Cain: Godchild. Nor do I own Jizabel, Cassandra, Cassian, or any of the characters.
This idea occurred to me when I was re-reading the Castrato Arc. What if Jizabel didn't have to deal with Cassian being fatally wounded by Cassandra, and that brain transplants did not exist? What would the doctor have done to Cassandra then? That's pretty much how the fic formed.
Warning: A bit AU, Abuse, torture, drug use, possible spoilers for the Castrato and Bloody Maria Arc, and maybe a little JizabelxCassian if you squint.
Constructive Criticism would be great, and I hope that you read and review! Thanks!
Wake me up from this Nightmare
Cold steel bonds, locking wrists to the side and curling the body. The feeling of being compressed instead of being stretched, like most medieval torture devices did. He never realized how painful this torture was.
That was one thing. The other thing was that Cassandra Gladstone knew this was only the result of his loss to the bet with Jizabel.
Jizabel eyed him quietly, eerily, as if searching for some sort of flicker in the older man's eyes besides fear. Anger, maybe? A need to yell, to scream for help; if anyone wished to help him?
And then the mad doctor saw that flicker.
It was hunger. Hunger for the drugs that Jizabel loosely held in one hand.
"You want these, don't you?" the silver-haired doctor whispered quietly. Cassandra painfully did his best to nod in response. The ex-Head Priest couldn't even speak being bound in the Scavenger's Daughter, that alone would be too painful. "You want these." Jizabel repeated, before smirking a little. "Don't you worry, Cassandra...you'll get some tonight. Maybe with an added sleeping draught, so you can rest easy...," he drawled. "Perhaps if you behave, Cassandra, you can rest easy tonight."
Cassandra didn't want to listen, but...he didn't have a choice. The Cardmaster had found out about their little bet; and had decided to let Jizabel take anything he wanted from Gladstone. His eyes? His fortune? His life?
No...Jizabel had decided to take his freedom.
"Are you listening, Cassandra?"
Cassandra felt his head yanked upwards by his dark brown hair, painfully looking up into Jizabel's stern blue-grey eyes.
"Are you listening?"
All Cassandra could do was painfully nod again.
The mad doctor smiled, letting go of Cassandra and picking up a small key from the table. He got down on both knees and click, click went the lock. The restraints were loosened, and Cassandra could move and speak again; if he wished to.
And immediately, Cassandra bolted for the door.
As soon as he tried to escape, there was always something or someone that blocked his path.
The ex-Head Priest felt his right leg pulled from behind him and he fell on his front, slowly being pulled back. He let out a scream, desperate to break away from the mad doctor's grip, but Jizabel was too strong...much too strong.
The next thing Cassandra realized was that he was on his back, and the doctor straddled his hips, pointing a scalpel at his throat.
"You claim to listen, and then you try to flee. You claim to listen..." Jizabel got up, still pointing the silver blade at Cassandra. A look of disgust settled upon the doctor's face. "Will you learn to behave, or do I need to beat it out of you?"
"N-no, no..." the ex-Head Priest choked out slowly. "Please..."
Pleading for mercy. Cassandra had never thought he would come to this. How the mighty have fallen, he couldn't help but think. You would never give in to anyone like this before.
Jizabel wasn't going to show any mercy tonight.
Metal shackles bound his wrists, and a lever pulled him up quickly and excruciatingly. Cassandra let out a sharp gasp of pain, before biting his lip as to prevent himself from screaming even more.
"How do I have to break you tonight?" The young doctor stared into Cassandra's fear-filled face before smirking. "Oh, yes...I know now..."
And he took out the scalpel, holding it close to Cassandra's throat. The older man prayed that Jizabel was going to kill him, to finish him now. Death would be much better than this.
The cold blade cutting into his arms answered his question. He wasn't going to die tonight.
Jizabel cut carefully along the bruised skin, cutting patterns as if he were cutting silk or some other fabric. Every stroke caused maximum pain with minimum blood loss; and therefore Cassandra would still be alive enough, at the least, to bear these injuries.
The final stroke ended with a stab into Cassandra's left palm, and the ex-Head Priest let out a howl, failing to blink away a tear streaking down his face.
"You had all the power you ever wanted before, Cassandra...and it's gone now. You should never have underestimated Cain." Jizabel hissed, before Cassandra crumpled to the ground as the lever gave some slack. The older man didn't bother getting up; there was no point in trying to struggle, trying to move at all unless instructed to. "You're getting out of control, Cassandra, and I think I'll need to, well, discipline you a little."
Cassandra didn't like the sound of the last statement. What was the doctor going to do now? He watched as Jizabel put his scalpel and the drugs down on a table, and picked up a different item before walking back towards him.
Jizabel was holding a mallet. Surely that was not good.
Cassandra tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. He was cornered, like a cat finally trapping the mouse.
The mad doctor raised the mallet, before sending its weight down upon Cassandra's left ankle.
The pained scream Cassandra let out, as a loud snap was heard, was animalistic. It didn't seem like him and it didn't sound like him; not in the slightest...and Cassandra snapped, collapsing into a sob as tears streamed down his face. He tried to wipe them away with his bare hands, but the salty tears just kept coming.
Jizabel put the mallet away, whispered a command into Cassian's ear before leaving the room. He only spoke one sentence with the iciest tone Cassandra had ever heard, before he closed the door behind him.
"Now try to get away...sweet dreams, Cassandra."
The Trump Card stared at the fallen, ex-Head Priest for a moment.
Cassian didn't know what to say or do for a moment. It was odd; he thought he would be feeling satisfied that Cassandra was finally getting what he deserved for harassing the doctor and abusing his power. Instead it was something else...pity? Sympathy?
No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Cassandra had despised the 'boy;' and he had harrased him and kicked him in the face, even. Too many times that Cassian felt like he should just go and kill the ex-Head Priest.
For some reason, he didn't feel that malice towards Cassandra anymore. He wasn't sure why.
The 'boy' watched as Cassandra tried to crawl, before letting out a gasp of pain. Right. The ankle. It must have been shattered, and Cassian knew that Jizabel wanted him to make sure Cassandra was properly bandaged and taken care of-just to suffer another beating the next day.
"Just relax, will you?" Cassian uttered as he approached the whimpering man. He sighed. "Just keep your ankle still; I'll bandage it, alright?"
As the Trump Card finished bandaging the major wound, Cassandra let out an incoherent sound, trying to speak before going silent. Cassian looked at the ex-Head Priest's face, filled with fear and desperation, as Cassandra spoke again.
"Please..." Cassandra's dark amber eyes were flickering towards the knife Cassian had attached to his belt. "Please..." he whispered again, trying to keep back more tears.
Cassian looked away from Cassandra, biting his lip. The more Cassandra was getting these beatings, the more it reminded him of himself, cringing from the ringmaster's whip when he was in that cursed circus...and it reminded him too much of Jizabel when he had destroyed his entire collection of organs and broken down sobbing.
"I can't. It's the doctor's orders. I have to keep you alive." Cassian whispered back. Cassian was getting so sick of the torture inflicted upon Cassandra already. Why wouldn't Jizabel just let Cassian kill the ex-Head Priest already? Why? But at the same time, Cassian was unsure of whether he really wanted to kill Cassandra anymore. He was just unsure.
Slowly, carefully, he lugged the ex-Head Priest onto the mattress where the man would sleep, and then draped the thin blanket over him before sitting by his side and waiting.
"Ca-Cassi-Cassian?" Cassian's eyes widened in shock. Never before had Cassandra said Cassian's name; he still remembered being called 'boy' or 'child' by the ex-Head Priest.
The 'boy' looked at Cassandra's face, and it was obvious in the eyes. The hunger. The drugs. He wanted it; he craved it. He wanted the drugs so badly...
"Please?" The one word that left Gladstone's lips made the Trump Card lose his composure.
Cassian let out a sigh of defeat before speaking. "It's...it's been a while since your last dose, hasn't it?" he whispered quietly. "I'll do it. Just wait a moment, okay?" He stood up, walking over to the table and pouring the filthy drug into a clean syringe. He then came back to Cassandra, crouching down to look at him more easily. He took a deep breath before the needle pricked the other man's neck, the drugs slowly entering his system.
Cassandra seemed to relax, a sleepy look taking over his eyes. He slowly extended one arm, briefly touching Cassian's face. "Th-thank...thank...you..." he was able to speak, before succumbing to the drug and falling into unconsciousness. His hand fell, lightly grasping onto the Trump Card's free hand.
Cassian swore that the state the ex-Head Priest was in now reminded him all too much of Jizabel; just too much...it wasn't just Jizabel fully suffering under the Cardmaster's hands, it was Cassandra now, too, through Jizabel himself. The thought of all of this just sickened Cassian to the core, and he spoke one question that was whirling about in his mind aloud.
"How will I ever free you from the Cardmaster's grasp?"
He was answered with nothing but the sound of Cassandra's slow breathing and the feel of his hand being grasped by Cassandra's own.