Chapter 3
Reviews
Higashikaze- I might make this part of a larger fic, but at the moment, my muse keeps running away! Stupid muse.
Mai Tenshi- I know! I just had to turn the tables around. After all, you can't really blame Van and Allen can you? (even if they are toooo mean!) But I think we all love Dilly too much to hurt him too bad…. Hehe.
Dilandau- what does that mean?
Mackerel- erm, nothing! (sweatdrop)
Dilandau- hmm, make sure it stays that way!
Mackerel- (under her breath) that's what you think.
Dilandau- WHAT!
Mackerel- hehe, nothing, nothing at all! Snigger.
Yoru no Kuronue- Hehe. That other sort of pet had crossed my mind. Still, slash isn't all bad now is it, especially between two fitties! But no, its not slash.
Kitsunechibiko- Awww, thank you!
Macky- hmmm, I suppose Merle will have to come into it, now that ya mention it…
Now, on with the story!
Dilandau didn't know what hurt more: his pride or his back. Van had taken it upon himself to make sure that Dilandau knew his place personally and so weeks of pain had begun. The days would usually start with interrogation in Dilandau's cell, situated in the highest tower of the palace. He wasn't deemed safe enough to sleep in Vans room yet, till he was fully broken in and so the 'training' began.
The training could involve anything from cutting, whipping, starving, isolation and more often than enough, drugging, sending Dilandau into hazes of delirium and images of the sorcerers plagued him for hours. This would all continue until Dilandau screamed 'yield' or screamed mercy from his torturers and today Dilandau had finally cracked.
He sat in the corner of his cell, eyes never leaving the door, rubbing his grimy arms, trying to keep warm and conserve any little body heat he had left. Weeks of living in this filth infested cell had made Dilandau unrecognisable. His once silver hair had been reduced to a mud brown and the once toned physic was beginning to waste away, covered in scars, infected from dirt, but no one had seen any reason to tend to, seeing it as something he was undeserving of, and so they became infected and festering. Clothes were the same; all he wore was a pair of ripped leggings that most likely wouldn't last much longer. His lavender tunic had been ripped off him on the day he had been captured and discarded in the market place, when he had been thrown to the masses and his boots? Well he hadn't seen them for weeks and had given up any hope of finding them.
Footsteps sounded outside his cell and Dilandau perked his ears up.
He didn't expect any 'visitors' today, unless…
The door swung open and Dilandau shield his eyes against the sudden barrage of light flooding into his small cell.
"Sleep well?"
Dilandau raised his head and squinted at the silluettes in the door frame. His bemused expression turned into anger.
"Van."
Van stepped forward and stood over Dilandau with a knowing smirk.
"I have a proposition Dilandau. There are two choices: one, you agree to my terms, living as my personal manservant, allowing me control over every aspect of your life and you live. Two, you swear, shout and attempt to kill me as you have done for the past month, and I arrange for your execution and you die."
Dilandau looked up in horror, He would rather die than serve this little piece of shit! But then his mind began to clear itself, the first time in weeks: if he agreed to the first choice then he could pretend to be the obedient little servant then escape when he had the chance. He could sacrifice his pride for a little bit longer……
"Well?"
Dilandau turned his head towards Van and ducked his head submissively.
" Where do I begin Lord Van?"
Van smiled.