A/N: Here is another chapter and don't worry, you won't remain a grub forever.
-Chapter 2-
It was a futile attempt to defy them. No one ever stood a chance of ever surviving and those who were granted mercy, such as yourself, were forced to attend one final celebration or a warning. A soft whimper left your lips as you burrowed yourself deeper in his hair for a sense of comfort-a sense of security to protect you from this bloodshed of horrors. Soft brown eyes focusing on the gallows as a stab of fear shot through you.
Five lowbloods were marched up to a chair, their arms bound behind their back as they were helped to stand on top of the chairs each one looking bruised and beaten. Fear and defeat in their hate-filled eyes but no one made a move to help them. The remaining survivors dared not to speak up, too tired and sore to shed a tear for them. Blank stares is all they received and a cold shoulder. You were not blind nor were you stupid as can tell that they were holding back their tears for the young one up there among the four adults.
His face was devoid of any emotion as if he had already come to terms with death. Waiting for death's embrace to take him away. His soft burgundy eyes meeting yours sending a shiver running through you as confusion settled on his features. His lips parted as if he was going to speak but no words were said. You were unsure on whether or not you wanted to hear him speak at all. At the signal, the five chairs were tipped over. It was not long for the four adults to die. Their tongues hung swollen, eyes glazed over and lifeless. But the fifth rope was still moving; being too light, the child was still alive. For more than half an hour he stayed there, struggling between life and death, dying in slow agony underneath everyone's watching eyes. And everyone had to look him full in the face.
You were unfortunate enough for his burgundy eyes to land on.
You whimpered pathetically as you forced yourself to try and tear your eyes from looking at him any further. Spare this weird sickening in your being that threatened to burn you up with some sort of rage and anger. His wide and pleading eyes refusing to allow you to look away from this. Denying you the part to play ignorance and turning a blind eye to this horror.
He had hopes and dreams once, a goal that he once wanted to accomplish. And now, he is slowly dying in agony. Death was playing him a cruel hand and not being as merciless as it was with the other four. His eyes were finally starting to gloss over, his tongue lolling out of his mouth swollen as his struggles slowly grew more weaker. And yet he still stared at you, looked at you with such hope and loathing.
You wept as he was finally granted death at long last. There were whoops of laughter from the clowns, some groaning and some forking over some money. They had bet on how long he could last, like it was just a game. A big fucking game. A ball of rage filled you, storming inside you as it shot out bolts of lightening and thundering loudly. An anger that you did not fully comprehend. What purpose did it serve right now? You had no clue.
You let yourself finally block everything out, not caring on where this troll was taking you and no longer bothering questioning on why he was keeping you. Those were hard questions to answer and ones that most likely will never be answered. All you got going for you right now was thanks to this massive Subjugglator but you, thanks to your hearing, learned that he was called the 'Grand Highblood'.
A title that seemed worthy of praise and yet, you wondered why you got the chills when you heard someone calling him that but you pushed those feelings aside. Pushed those uneasy feelings away, too tired and exhausted, to deal with them. Your thinkpan still struggling to coming to terms of what you had seen. Of what carnage and horror you had witnessed. Letting yourself to fall asleep to slumber, falling into a night terror filled with blood, carnage, tears and someone leading you on to the battlefield. A single hope withering.
Groggily, you yawned and winced as something thick and blunt pressed against the undersides of your soft belly. Confused you glanced down and noticed that you were sitting in a giant pile of-
A strangled squeak escaped your lips as you scrambled off the massive pile of troll skulls you were sitting on, colliding painfully with the floor when you fell off the tall heap. You lay there for a long moment prone and breathing heavily in fear and panic. Eventually you raised yourself up as you glanced back over at the massive pile that took up the entire corner. Skulls. Hundreds of troll skulls, teeth bared in eternal smiles, gaping eye sockets staring into nothing. All were bleach-white, the only colour being the orange and red horns with the usually sharp tips filed into blunt curves. You felt dizzy as you struggled to take in the view; so many dead, stacked up carelessly in a corner like bits furniture. Then again there were also skulls being used as candle fixtures.
Skin, blood, bone; the clowns used all of their victims.
Then again, this was something that you shouldn't let yourself get caught up in. Why spare those skulls a single tear? So why is it that you felt compelled to break down and just cry? You jumped at the sound of heavy footsteps entering the dimly lit room, a sound of a club being dragged on the ground. Hesitating you turned to look towards the noise, whimpering at the sight.
The Highblood looked scary and threatening in the dimly lit room, his club covered in teal blood as he made his way over to you. Fear gripped you like a vice, choking any sort of noise you were going to make and freezing you on the spot as you looked up at him. Struggling to keep staring into his eyes. You jumped when he merely just crashed on the pile of skulls, his club him as he let out a sigh. You felt afraid to do anything even breathing seemed to be a problem at hand because you were breathing heavily in fright and trying so hard to ignore the urge to cry. He was a threat and for some odd reason, he had kept you alive and nor has he bothered to kill such a pathetic being like you.
Could it possibly be that he had a change of heart?
His gaze snapped towards you, a frown on that scary face of his. His gaze was filled with blood lust and some deep anger lay beneath those depths. If you were not careful, you would be finding out very soon how cruel he can be to such a small thing like you. He had almost killed you once hadn't he? He had killed many others and he had watched that poor child hang for hours, laughing as if it was the most funniest thing he had ever seen.
In desperation, you chirped and gave him a series of squeaks and clicks as if you were trying to say something to him. What could you be trying to say? Were you trying to demand for his attention and seek what? Comfort from him? Were you scared? He tilts his head in questioning, watching you wave your front legs in front of you as if you were trying to spell it out to him.
It was giving him a headache. "Motherfucker, shut the fuck up." He growled, baring his teeth in annoyance.
You shut up. "That's better...Now come here." Hesitating, you made your way over to him. The way he picked you up made you growl at him as you snap your teeth at his fingers in anger. He had dug his nails into your soft body, sending jolts of pain and you feared there might be blood. Biting and snapping at his fingers did nothing as he simply just watched you bite down on one of fingers at long last.
He grinned. "Feisty little motherfucker aren't ya? Cute that you think you can fucking hurt me like that." He chuckled, amused as you refused to let go of his finger between your teeth. You finally let go after tasting his blood on your tongue as you shivered in disgust. He laughed at the sour expression you made and simply dropped you on his lap.
You let out a startled squeak. You looked up at him, unsure on what he wanted from you. Then he flicked one of your fragile horns making you screech in pain. Your horns were not that soft but but the amount of force he put into that was painful. Angrily, you attempted to bite at that finger in retaliation, only to freeze when you felt him probing your soft body with his nails, letting them dig into your flesh as you squirmed and curled around in his lap to escape those horrid nails.
He simply chuckled and started yanking one of your back legs making you screech in pain. It felt like he was trying to rip it off! Tears started falling from your eyes no matter on how much you tried not cry. It simply hurt so it was no fault of yours that you kept trying to scurry off from his lap only for him to yank that leg of yours again. So you tried to go off from the other side, only for it to be repeated once more again.
This whole exchange kept happening for a whole minute before you finally realized, that he was simply just playing with you. It was futile to even try to escape the Grand Highblood. You looked back up at him before you started moving around in his lap, and wincing at the fresh cuts he had given you with his nails. It did not matter to you right now, it just gave you a perfect excuse to coat his lap with your blood before you curled up, and making a great show of getting some rest.
"Your a cute motherfucker, too bad you got such ugly fucking eyes. A shame really..." You heard him mutter and that for some odd reason, sent you on edge, Your whole body automatically tensing up as you let a purr. A soft one at first that was barely loud enough to heard before finally, it was loud enough to catch his attention and distract him from where his thoughts were heading. "Fuck, you're such a cute little thing, purring away in my lap, eh motherfucker?"
You leaned into his touch when he began running his nails gently through your hair and sometimes accidentally brushing against your horns. The fact that he was doing it-and that he was fully distracted from going down that dark thought-made you purr only louder.
"G-Grand Highblood, sir? Are you in here?" A voice rang out, startling you as you cut off your purr. You only began purring again when he dug his nails in your head as a warning, or maybe, he was prompting you to do it again but all you knew, is that it hurt. So meekly, you purred and closed your eyes in fright.
"Well, get in here motherfucker don't be creepin' by the door. What does a motherfucker have for me this time?" He growled out, and watched as Darkleer made his presence known at long last. Such a sight to see him standing there so tall and proud but still shivering in fear. "Well?"
Darkleer's gaze fell on you and frowned. "If I may inquire, what do you plan on doing with that lowblooded wriggler?" It was not right for the HIghblood to be seen with something just as yourself. He did not want the Highblood's reputation to be marred if anybody else were to see this.
The Grand Highblood merely shrugged, clearly it had not occurred to him to think about what to do with you. "Shit, I don't motherfucking know. Was just going to keep this little motherfucker, keep him as a fucking pet maybe. Why? Something fucking wrong with that?" He asked, eyeing the other as he waited for the others answer.
Darkleer given permission to voice his thoughts went ahead to explain or just get straight to the point. "The wriggler is a lowblood, sir. It's not right for such a Highblood like yourself to be seen with something like that," he pointed at you. "I suggest you should get rid of it, Grand Highblood sir." He bowed slightly in respect and waited in bated breath.
"He wants me to kill you, motherfucker." He tells you, his hand moves slowly down to your face, drawing painful brown lines into the skin. But the touch is too light for him, not even enough pressure to make you bleed, and to you it comes off as almost teasingly. "The Executor wants this cute little motherfucker dead, ain't that fucking funny as shit? Fuckers jealous of you."
As if to emphasize this, he reaches his hand down and brushes it against a cut on your cheek. Everything about the movement is invasive; he lingers there just a little too long, pushes his finger a little too deep, opens the wound a little too wide, makes the pain feel just a little too crisp. You grit your teeth as he pulls away, a small coat of fresh brown blood on his thumb. You shudder, no longer purring as you just whimpered pathetically in his lap. He looks at Darkleer, bringing his thumb up to his lips and licking the blood away. "Naw, I will fucking kill this motherfucker when I'm good and motherfucking ready for him to die."
Darkleer frowned. "Grand Highblood sir-"
He cut him off. "No...Do not say another word." He was angry but he could feel you squirming in his lap and the soft vibrations coming off from you, letting him know that you had begun to purr. It relaxed him, made his rage dissipate slowly into thin air. "If all those motherfuckers think I'm gonna let them ruin my fuckin' fun, they've got another thing coming. You understand, don't you Darkleer?"
It was not surprising that he had great difficulty to answer, He was tempted to keep this argument going, to make the other see his reasoning and get him to understand. He was not suicidal nor was he eager to face death so he simply just bowed and agreed in understanding. "Yes, I understand fully Grand highblood, sir."
You listened to them exchange a few words to each other as you just purred away, recoiling a bit from his touch but making sure not to stop. It seemed to make him relax and it prompted him to keep grooming you and not stab at you with his nails. You kept this information stored away in your thinkpan for future purposes. In the end you were exhausted and tired, letting him put you on top of his head where you limply and slowly, burrowed yourself in.
He had washed you up before he put you in his hair and you felt clean. That was good. You felt yourself hiccuping a bit, limbs feeling like lead as you pushed yourself to get comfortable and hide yourself from view. Your head throbbed painfully, your body ached badly, and the hair made your cuts sting, you forced yourself to fall asleep. You didn't want to wake up ever again, too tired to face the dangers, it was all too much for you.
It was with relief that you finally were granted rest. A dream of the same battlefield, a single hope withering slightly. You wondered, faintly, what did it mean?