A MONTH LATER
Terezi paced the dirt floor of her tent as she tried to calm herself. The Caverns had been a rather sullen place since one of their own had been lost. As if the place wasn't already a giant, heaping mass of depression! It was carved into the ground by the telekinetic beings of their gang and rocks had been placed against the walls for stability with wooden beams over them. It was spacious, but holes in the wall were constantly being flooded with dirt and cleaned out. They had to keep the tunnels new and dead to keep their hide out from being found. Secret passages were kept open, but strategically placed and hard to get to at times. Tents were set up so each troll could have some privacy, color-coded for designation, not to put anyone in any sort of order regarding their blood. The center of it was the kitchen, the edge was a bathing basin divided by curtains for each genders privy. The other edge an infirmary…It was normally a buzzing, small society. They had lost others before, martyrs for their movement to bring the kingdoms to justice, but Karkat was special.
Karkat was their leader; he always did what was best for ground even if he didn't have the best judgment. He somehow brought some sort of stability to their diminishing group, and most of the group seemed to have an attachment to him. Counting the group now, there was Nepeta, Sollux, Aradia, Kanaya, and herself. It had truly diminished. They functioned well, Sollux and Aradia built the tunnels and fought off unwanted visitors. Nepeta hunted and aided in the psionics' combat, Kanaya was a motherly figure who cooked and tended to injuries, and Terezi was now their leader. What kind of leader was she, unable to find her matesprit…?
"Terezi," Aradia entered her tent. Her skin freshly stained with dirt and hair amess. She, Sollux, and Nepeta had been trying to track Karkat. He was nowhere to be found. Terezi did not want to accept that he was dragged to Makara's castle where he was drained dry of his life and then his body was burnt in the crematoriums after being used up in the cages. Just the imaginary scent of Karkat's blood being poured upon the skin of the Highblood made Terezi's stomach twist in a knot, well near vomiting.
"Please," she spoke softly, facing the other end of her tent, "Please tell me you found Karkat,"
"I'm sorry, Terezi, but we're giving up the search…" Aradia placed a gentle hand on Terezi's shoulder, "We can't keep going up to the surface for mindless searches. We'll expose what's left of our group…Tavros says he'll keep an eye open though in his hive,"
Tavros was an exception to their group. He resided on the surface to keep an eye out for refugees. He and his lusus also sent down what vegetation and grain they could eat. Too much meat could make them sick after a while because it decayed much faster than vegetables and grain. They needed to keep themselves from becoming ill. Most meat could be made into jerky, but with a lack of sunlight to dry the strips it only diminished the supply and the Taurus could only do so much.
"You're certain there's no trace of Karkat?" Terezi choked out.
"The blood from that night confirms he's dead," Aradia frowned, "I'm sorry, but, he's gone,"
Terezi allowed a tear to stream past the corner of her eye and fall down her cheek.
"It's my fault," she whimpered, "If I hadn't been such a fuckin' cluckbeast shit to him that night he might still be alive,"
"It could have happened to anyone," Aradia tried to solace, turning her around to give her a soft hug, "It's happened to a lot of us,"
Terezi pushed her away softly, she wanted to be alone. Aradia nodded in understanding. A few months ago Sollux had been apprehended by a group of Subjugglators. He managed to get himself out before being taken to the Cages but he came back half-starved and near death. She and her matesprit became so much closer after that, but the feeling of loss was never an easy one to get around.
"I'll bring you some soup later," Aradia promised before leaving the tent, holding her own chest at the loss of their former leader.
Karkat's eyes were heavy as he stared down at his lap. His hands rested upon his sore legs and he could plainly see the shackles Makara had placed upon them. It had been a month of hell, and degeneration. The mutant-blood could not believe that the indigo-blood had actually gotten to him. He felt empty, he felt useless, and he was angry at himself for not being able to fight such a powerful troll. The first night he was here the highblood had his servants hold him down while a tattoo was sewn into his face. It was over his left eye, looking as simple as face paint. It was permanent though and when he closed his eyes the highblood's insignia was completed and well seen. It was apparent who he belonged to now. Next, as the torture continued, Gamzee developed a fetish for locking Karkat up for long periods of time.
Sometimes he was bound and blindfolded before being thrown into the dungeon where the cold would make his body go numb. The dehydration would dry his aching muscles and the lack of fluid made him hear voices he so wished to hear again, and see figured in the darkness of his blindfold. He longed to see Terezi again and his best bro, Sollux. The emptiness of the dungeon provided only the solace that his friends were not dragged in to join him. He would be left for days, unattended, before being dragged back into the warmth of the highblood's respite block and coerced to feel gratitude. Other times he'd be strung up by his shackles until only the tips of toes were on the floor. Triangular pieces of paper, lined carefully with oil would be placed between his toes, and the tips of the paper were lit on fire. The highblood would wait and watch as the flame steadily descended down the paper to his pet's skin. He would then kick and scream as the fire scorched his skin-two weeks into this treatment the grumpy troll begged for mercy. He could not allow the burns to persist...
Perhaps it was his lonesome, agonized, psychological state that made him start to think better of his captor, but he began to felt it. As his starved body was coddled and warmed by those reaping arms and hands, he felt some semblance of decency and kindness permeating from the troll. Having never known the troll before, he didn't know whether or not his observations were right, but Gamzee seemed calmer when he was with his pet. However degrading it was to let the highblood stroke his hair and face, he noted that the screams that he had heard from castle in his freedom no longer existed. For three weeks there were no raids, there were no prisoners being dragged in. It was strange, Karkat thought, but he began to believe that his friends would be spared a gory fate if he remained.
He would allow the highblood to touch his face and neck; he would allow his hair to be touched and his body to be abused to the highblood's liking. He would not break and he would not weep no matter the torture. Gamzee soon grew bored of stringing his pet up and binding him in the dungeon. He decided to bind him completely from the outside world. He would board up the windows and block of the dungeon with its miniscule windows. Karkat was used to being trapped inside though, having gone so long without the moonlight in the Caverns. He would find a way to the dungeons though, the only place that seemed to give him solace, by avidly strolling through the castle. The bindings on his arms and legs slowly lost their weight with each step. In the abandoned cellar of the castle he found a crawl space leading straight to the dungeon. He must have truly lost his mind to take solace in such a tormenting place.
The hallucinations he suffered behind his blindfold seemed to grant him solace though. Imagining his buds back home, kept warm by the activity in the earth and eating some soup and bits of still edible meat. Terezi wrapping her arms around him and sniffing him, telling he smelled delicious. It pissed him off beyond all comprehension, but it was a welcoming embrace and remark. It was friendly. Then he and Sollux would kick back in the yellow-blood's tent and play some card games, sometimes discuss some books on computers which they had to long-since abandon for the sake of their group's privacy and safety. Then there was Nepeta, she was an adorable cat-girl. She was very sweet to him despite her feline mannerisms were sometimes annoying, and her role-playing games, but it was cute nonetheless and he'd rather the sight of her engaging the others in such games than this palace.
The most humiliating of his captivity though were the clothes Gamzee had him wear. They were sewn from fine silks and made specifically for him. They fit his body perfectly and bent with the curves of his back and legs appropriately. One of his caste should be grateful for such garments-if not for the color sewn into them. Red. Bright, candy red; the color of his mutant blood that he so endeavored to keep secret was now at large for the Subjugglators to see and ridicule. His outfits would not be so bad if not for the vest. First layer was a dark grey, long sleeve, turtle neck shirt. It was rather soft and cozy. Next was a pair of black, form-fitting pants which were also quite comfortable. This was the main, basic layer. The color combinations did not change day in and day out. The jacket, however, did not change as well. It was one of a kind and he was obligated to wear it every day. The jacket had no sleeves, no buttons, and revealed the middle of his grey shirt. It was held together by a waist-belt and above that, connecting the sewn-down lapels was sym69ls of his ancestor. The edges of the jacket were lined with red, the symbol cast in red, the belt in red…Red, bright candy red. His fingerless gloves were lined in red as well; down the outline of his bones and the wristband that the sleeves of his sweater were tucked under. Never had he felt so degraded.
Still, he would not cry, he would not break. Gamzee would not make his pet bleed to taste that wonderful, red fluid pulsing through his veins. He wanted tears; he wanted those tears to be given to him deliberately. Karkat should have seen it coming too. His shackles were removed as he entered the throne room, the screech of the cages swaying above him made him shiver.
"Come here, my motherfuckin' pet," Gamzee called over. He patted the spot next to him on his cold, stone throne. Karkat would obey, ever so cold in his mindful repose, to escape the pain of being dragged over. Makara stood when his pet sat down, head bowed as he had been taught to do. The Subjugglator then placed a collar around his neck. It was made of sheets of metal, crafted by Zahhak. He attached a chain to the slot and bound his pet to the throne with his head up. What was this new form of torture…?
"W-What the fuck are you doing?" Karkat hissed.
"Such a crass tongue," Makara began to unbutton his stripped, indigo vest. He folded it according onto Karkat's lap, then his black shirt with his crest sewn just over his hips. Next his baggy, polka-dots pants, shoes, socks and the rest of his garments until he was naked, the mutant blood looked away in distaste.
"You knock of my clothes onto the floor and I'll motherfuckin' cut your bulge out of your body," Gamzee smirked, tapping his chin in a masterly manner. Karkat had to hold his bile as a small, lowblooded was escorted to the upper level of throne room. No…Karkat growled aloud and began to struggle as a cage was pulled from the center of the ceiling. The troll was pushed in, blood immediately being drawn from the spikes in the cage before the cage was pulled back to the center. Other Subjugglators soon joined Gamzee; others were on the upper level bombarding the captive trolls with arrows. She was forced to struggle in the cage, drops and streams of her yellow blood splattered upon the Subjugglators as they engaged in their gory orgy
He began to scream as he struggled, not caring for the clothes that fell onto the ground. More captive trolls were brought in and locked into the other cages. A spectrum of blood rained upon the Subjugglators; they lavished in the blood that chilled their skin. They painted, bathed, drank the colorful splatters of blood. Gamzee's clothes were stained with Karkat's struggles. He seemed pleased to get something out of his pet, but still he was not receiving tears. This was horrible room filled with the stench of decaying blood and corpses…Bones were strewn about as layer upon layer of blood was neglected to be washed. Not so horrid though as the punishment for any messy servants.
"Oh man bro," Gamzee grimaced, picking up his stained clothes that were merely a fraction as dyed as his blood-laden skin, "This won't motherfuckin' do,"
He glared and undid the bind around Karkat's neck. He grabbed the back of his one-of-a-kind vest and forced the mutant blood to bow.
"Go fuck yourself," Karkat cursed, glaring at him angrily He smirked, grabbed the back of his head and pulling Karkat up to his neck, forcing his lips against the bloodied skin.
"Now how to cleanse that vile tongue of yours," he smirked, forcing Karkat's mouth open to taste the blood upon his skin. That night he cried, for Gamzee forced him to lick his body clean of the blood he had painted and bathed in. He had not vomited more in his life than that night, nor had he cried so much. He was truly a Subjugglator's pet. Once the orgy had settled the bodies were released from the cages. Driven by tears he rushed to each body, searching for familiar faces. He was relieved that none of the corpses belonged to his friends. The relief was short lived though when his master, now draped in an indigo robe, grabbed him by the hair and dragged him through the bloody filth. He painted in his yellow, teal, maroon, green…So many shades that they blended in a deep, murky brown-one of the colors of rot. He was rotting; on the inside…He was dragged farther though that just across the roam and over the drains. Face painted in several shades of primary hues he was dragged down the crematorium. It was a small chamber where corpses were piled and burnt in a large furnace beneath the ground. Their smoky decay plagued the noses of surrounding trolls, too afraid to question their lord.
Corpses were brought by Subjugglators but no farther to the furnace. When they left it was only Gamzee and Karkat, and the drained corpses.
"Burn them," Gamzee ordered, leaning against the wall idly. Karkat's hands shook as he stared down at the corpses, as well as the blood-stained appendages. Maybe he could jump into the furnace and burn to death? He didn't want to be the ones who damn these trolls to a fiery grave. It wasn't even in their culture to do anything to the dead. This was insane…
"J-Just throw them outside," he squeaked out. Gamzee grimaced, raising his clawed hand and striking him across the face.
"No, you will toss them motherfuckers in, one by one, into the motherfuckin' furnace," he sneered, smearing the blood on Karkat's face even more. Karkat squeaked softly in pain before spitting back in his face.
"You little-" Gamzee roared, making to hit him again. Something sparked in Karkat in that instant and his hand cracked across Gamzee's face, staining it yet again. Karkat's befouled tongue still stung of blood and the rage stank of contamination. The moment after his strike was all but slow. It was as if the momentum of his strike had snapped the speed of time and space and caused everything to move in slow motion. Gamzee just stared at him, flaunting an expression he'd never seen him make before. He was awed for a moment; the mutant blood could see it in his eyes. He then grabbed his hand, the one that had struck him, and held it to his cheek. He then began to rub it up and down that side of his face, purring somewhat with a dopey grin.
"GET YOUR GOGDAMN HAND OFF OF ME YOU FUCKING INDIGO-SHIT!" Karkat cursed. No response.
"I HOPE THAT SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, STRINGS YOU UP BY YOUR ANKLES AND BOMBARDS YOUR PUTRID FLESH WITH THE SAME ARROWS YOU KILLED THIS TROLLS WITH," this was perhaps the most verbal he had been for a while, "AND THEN WHEN YOU'RE BARELY FUCKING ALIVE, THEY THROW YOU INTO THESE FUCKING FURNACES! AND THE WHOLE FUCKING KINGDOM WILL BE DELIVERED BY YOUR GOGDAMNED SCREAMS YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!"
Karkat was not punished that evening, surprisingly, and slept with little harm done to his bodily person.
