Chapter Twelve

The Tyrant King

Reaver, the king, torture, its not going very well for Izzy at this point. On with the show, now that Izzy must appear before the king. Thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews, you guys are awesome.

She was pushed through the castle, right arm still in agony as nearly every bone had been broken. Apparently good old fashioned hot poker and whipping torture hadn't been enough for some. The elite guards were flanked at each side, making sure the hero was boxed in at all times. The servants in the castle slowed down on their work trying to catch a glimpse of the escapee who set the garden on fire with magic.

No one had ever escaped the dungeons before, let alone set alight the royal garden. Although they didn't voice their opinions, everyone working in the castle was impressed. The guards took turns in pushing Izzy forward, delighting in causing more pain. Reaver's top hat bobbed about in the front of the group as he continued to talk with the king. Izzy bit her bottom lip trying to get passed the pain in her arm, trying not to trip up from exhaustion.

The entered the throne room, since beside two mighty glass stained windows, sat a bold white chair. It was a very nice room, well lit with plush purple carpets and portraits hanging from the walls. Pillars stretched to the ceiling, holding up with their mighty arms. Logan strode up the stairs, sat on the throne with Reaver standing on his right. The guards dispersed one pushing Izzy forward and kicking her to the ground. She landed on her left side trying not damage her right arm any further.

"You will kneel before the king!" shouted the man.

"Oh is Darius here?" she asked, earning another kick in the back. Reaver smiled lightly, impressed that the torture had not broken her spirit. She seemed such a lively thing it would be a shame to put a bullet in her head like the old man.

"You know my brother?" asked Logan, leaning back on the throne, watching the girl struggle to get off the floor. She tried to at least stand at her full height, wincing in pain from the mangled arn.

"Well, you did have me arrested escaping with the guy, you figure it out," she answered, glaring at the guard beside her who kept hitting her. Logan stroked his tuft of beard, staring down at the young woman with interest. Will lines were visible under her torn shirt sleeves, travelling up her neck and framing her heart shaped face.

"You are not Isaac Taylor in which Swift spoke of in his journal then?" questioned the king.

"Yes and no, I'm Isabella Taylor, Isaac was just a disguise,"

"And you are a hero?"

"Apparently so,"

The king looked on the interest amused by the cold blue eyes that sent daggers his way. The young woman before him carefully didn't appear to be related to him in any way. His father had loved Logan's mother dearly, unable to move on after her death. Both of them had been brown eyed and quite angled faces. Beneath the filth and blood, she was soft featured and had blue eyes that burnt with passion. This hero could not be of his bloodline. Could more heroes be running across Albion?

"Who were your parents?" asked Logan.

This time Izzy looked down, opening her mouth for a moment before shaking her head. She looked up staring the king in the eye once again, refusing to let him get to her.

"People I vaguely remember and would rather not tell you about," she answered, receiving another hit.

Logan leaned forward staring at the new hero, how her gaze didn't waver, how she stood boldly in front of him without one sliver of fear. How noble. However, that nobility seemed to falter after a few hours being tortured. Three people were dead, brutally slaughtered by this 'hero'.

"You killed Rake," he stated.

A thin smile stretched over the young woman's lips, remembering the moment she pulled out her abusers heart. It had been the most satisfying thing since coming to this world. A strange red glint entered her eyes before swiftly disappearing as if it were never there.

"Shame I know, we were becoming such close friends until the torture happened," replied Izzy, getting another hit on the back of the head.

"Seriously, stop doing that, I'm just answering the question," she snapped at the guard, who raised his hand again only for the king to hold up a hand.

"And you set fire to the garden,"

"The hedges needed trimming,"

"Do you always answer sarcastically?"

"Only on the days ending in y,"

Reaver banged his cane against the floor in approval, clearly delighted by the rebel's sense of humour. Usually they only yelled about dying in the name of freedom before being gutted. This did make a nice change and kept the carpet clean. The king rubbed his temple watching the hero wince in pain from her twisted arm. They really went all out for this one; usually someone being tortured would only be lashed or burnt by a hot poker. Clearly, this Isabella was in league with Darius who had been gone almost two months after his beloved's death. Whispers were travelling throughout Albion of the rebel prince being a hero. Doing the smallest of tasks in a bid to gain more supporters for an oncoming revolution. That insolent child had a big heart, in touch with emotions and the people. If he truly knew what was coming, who would Darius become afterwards? Within these rumours were more, telling of another hero who bravely fought against the undead and other horrifying creatures.

Logan sighed looking the young woman over. She wasn't very tall, maybe only a few inches beyond five foot. A few scars were littered over her body from battles, telling stories of how she fought and survived. Her hair was short unlike most women he knew, sticking up giving of a boyish appearance. Two ice blue eyes burnt with a mix of emotions all of which stared down any who opposed her. A thin layer of muck and blood coated her pale skin giving off a feral look. Logan tilted his head to the side, a plan forming in his head.

"Take Isabella to a guest room and send a physician for her arm, then the maids to clean her up, treat her like a guest or I'll have your head," ordered the king, watching the hero frown in confusion. Reaver joined in, unsure of Logan's motives. The guards quickly flanked the young woman again and led her out the room.

"Do tell what is going in that scarred head of yours," said Reaver, as soon as the doors were closed.

"The girl is a hero. I cannot kill her without causing a riot of sorts from the peasants. It is not worth it after Swift's death. I have other plans for her," explained the king. The deviant of Albion leaned forward, smiling in a menacing manner.

"Plans, your majesty? Pray do tell?" he asked, only receiving a withering look in return. The pair had an odd relationship with the king listening to his advice on occasions and then completely ignoring it on others.

"I will tell you nothing, only to stay away from the girl. On the night of the ball in a week's time, I will make my intentions clear."

OoooOoooOo

Izzy sat on a plush chair, trying to keep her leg under control as the physician poked and prodded her arm. She had resisted the urge to kick him multiple times, having endured this for more than an hour. At least the torture offered a bit of banter. The physician merely looked at the arm and refused to even meet her eye-line apparently fascinated by the broken bones. He was a balding man, wearing one of those ugly white wigs with the curls to cover up the fact his hair was falling out. Middle age will do that to you, if you didn't accept it, you did everything to fight it.

They had placed her in a room the same size as the resistance map room if not bigger. Purple decorated the room like most of the castle, making the whole ordeal seem softer than it actually was. The walls curved upwards into a dome shape, pretty pictures painted on the ceiling depicting hero battles. The room was largely dominated by a four poster bed that screamed to be jumped on, even though someone would just remake it once more.

"Before you drink the healing potion," began the old man, a wheezing voice coming out his mouth "some of the bones must be reset." He took out a vial of red potion, placing it on the bed side table and a rag. Handing over the rag, he gently rolled up Izzy's sleeve.

"You're going to have bite down on that, your screams will disturb the staff," explained the doctor, placing his hands on the first bone.

"I think I already did that," hissed Izzy, stuffing the cloth in her mouth all the same. The physician worked on the arm making sure all the bones were set right, fearful that if anything went work, the king would shoot him. It was a long and painful process, causing some painful discomfort and occasional, muffled scream from Izzy. Shifting the final bone into place, he handed over the healing potion which she took and gulped down in two mouthfuls.

Although not as bad as the bones being reset, the discomfort has the healing potion putting the bones back together was something she could have done without. Izzy looked down at her arm, seeing the scars work their way up. The stone Rake had used had left a lasting effect, blemishing her skin once again. The arm felt stiff but could be moved without burning pain ripping through her. The doctor left with a look of relief etched onto his face, not bothering to ask how his patient was. Izzy sighed, feeling much better now that her arm was completely healed.

The hazards of being in this world were really beginning to pile up. Gazing around the room, she decided to explore it. Beside the bed sat a large dressing table, holding a mirror which shows the hero how dirty she really was. Everything she wore was either ripped or a little singed. Her face was streaked with mud and blood once again. Izzy turned away a little sad by her reflection, going over to the window and taking in the castle grounds.

They probably used to be very pretty but most of it was a horrible and barren. Burnt branches were alien against the few flourishing plants that had survived the massacre of magic. Gardeners were darting all around the place trying to avoid the nobles who wandered aimlessly though the gardens only to stop and chat for a few minutes. They pulled up the dead trees, forcing its blackened bark out from the earth and dumping it unceremoniously into a wheel barrow. People really worked fast to make sure it looked like no one ever escaped. Izzy leaned against the window, feeling its cool glass on her forehead. Why hell was Logan suddenly treating her so nicely? Being a woman surely wouldn't stop such a tyrant from killing her. This would make Theresa happy though, having one of her little chess pieces back on the board. Although, suddenly treated her nice did raise alarm bells in her head.

A soft knock came from the door pulling Izzy from her thoughts. It opened a little, a blonde head bobbing into view, a maid smiling over at the hero.

"I'm sorry ma'am but the king has ordered for you to scrubbed and dressed for dinner tonight," said the maid, peering nervously from behind the door.

"Dinner?" she asked in a confused manner. Now he was treating her to dinner, what the hell was this guy up to?

The maid nodding again her blonde ringlets bobbing up and down, anxiously clutching the panelled door. Unable to really refuse and not wanting to get the maid in trouble, Izzy nodded. The door swung open, a silver bathtub being pushed in by two burly men who looked her up and down before leaving. The maid darted in, placing a fine purple dress on the bed. She reached forward, hands aimed for Izzy's shirt. The confused hero darted backwards, holding tightly onto her clothes.

"What are you doing?" asked Izzy. The maid flushed red flustered at her charges attitude unsure on how to continue.

"My lady, I have to get you ready," she explained.

"I can undress myself," exclaimed Izzy, tightly holding onto her shirt.

The maid clenched and unclenched her fists shaking a little. The room started to feel a little uncomfortable.

"Bu-but his majesty said I had to tend to you if I d-don't he'll let me go, then all there is for is w-working on the streets, please my lady, please don't." babbled the maid before bursting into tears. Izzy stood there unsure on what to do, the maid just kept crying unable to control herself. The hero reached forward, awkwardly patting her on shoulder.

"Umm, sorry-" said Izzy.

"Angie,"

"Angie, I'm Izzy, I'm not sure how a castle works and I'm used to looking after myself. I'll make sure the King knows you're doing a good job,"

"Thank you miss,"

"I'm going to undress and get in the bath, then once you've calmed down, you do whatever you have to."

Angie cried a little more, letting herself be guided over to the bed taking in deep breathes. The tears kept streaming down, limbs shaking in an uncontrollable manner. The young hero started stripping off her clothes and settling into the warm water, waiting for the maid to calm down. Soon, Angie smoothed out her uniform and began her work. Izzy hadn't been washed like this since her parents were alive. Nor in such a vigorous manner. All sorts of soaps and oils were rubbed into her skin. Hairs were plucked with expert precision it almost became an art form. Although still a little teary, Angie did an excellent job in making sure Izzy was presentable for royalty. While she towel dried herself off, the maid started getting the clothes ready, nervously watching the small clock on the mantelpiece.

"What is this?" asked Izzy, as Angie swiftly became putting on some complex undergarments on her charge.

"That's a corset, Miss,"

"Looks like some elaborate form of torture device,"

"The upper-class women seemed to like them,"

"Upper class women don't work for a living nor chop up bad guys, oh please don't put me in these,"

Izzy held up heels as if they were a medley of disgusting insects covered in slime. Angie placed the corset around the heroes thin frame and began doing the laces up at max speed. Suddenly air began to feel like some form of luxury as the laces began closing in.

"I can find some flat shoes for you Miss, if you're worried about the heels,"

"If you want me to trip all over the place, flats please,"

Corsets were horrible things. They wanted to break people's backs, ribs and stop them breathing all at the same time. Seriously, something in this world needed not to want to break her in some way. Angie led her over to the dressing table beginning to brush out her tangled hair. Izzy sat there shocked unable to recognise the person sitting at the mirror. It was like seeing stranger. Her skin glowed in a beautiful porcelain way, not a pale sickly manner. The make-up applied made them look more mature or womanly, a seductress who knew want she wanted. Her hair brushed beautifully covering up the scar, an aliceband a top the head donned with a few purple flowers. The dress was utterly gorgeous, a deep purple strapless one with matching gloves that reached her upper arms. Izzy could not accept this grow up woman was her. Angie did a few more finishing touches before putting on the flats shoes and hurrying her out the room.

"Come along miss, we don't want to keep his majesty waiting," commented the miad, sounding a little urgent.

A guard outside led the pair down the long hallways, occasionally gazing at the woman beside him. She was regal, carrying herself with pride and trying not to trip over as they went to meet the king. The castle seemed to have long and twisting halls with plenty of useless looking rooms. Izzy tried not to stop and look in, unable to resist nosing in at the tyrants home. She still kept wondering what this was all for, dressing her up, treating her like some lady. The tyrant king did seem to have a strange mind. Soon they arrived outside the dining room, the guard quickly opening the door and ushering her inside before she could even react.

Izzy stumbled in, trying to catch herself before looking like a fool. Pleasant smells wafted around the room. There was one pointlessly long table in the centre of the room. A grandfather clock sat to the left whilst a fireplace to the right which burnt brightly in the darkened room. A few paintings were hung on the purple walls staring down at the scene below. Logan sat at the opposite end of the table, a manservant guiding Izzy to a seat two spaces apart from the king. She couldn't decide if he was attractive or not. He slouched in the dinner seat, greedy brown eyes devouring every inch of her, scarred lips pulled up into a creepy smile. The orange firelight played off his gaunt pale faces, a shadow passing over him.

"You look beautiful," he commented, watching as the manservant pulled out a chair for Izzy.

"Thank you," she answered, staring down at the dinner placement. What the hell was this entire set cutlery for? One of them was long enough to scratch her back, which in the case of the corset would be lovely.

"It is refreshing to see you now as your fair sex, although I congratulate you on your clever disguise," continued the king taking a deep drink from his goblet. Izzy shrugged picking the nearest knife and fork and poking the poached salmon with it as if to check for anything unpleasant. Logan pursed his lips not saying anything.

"I was in barracks, I imagine being a female soldier would not have sat well with the other men," she said, beginning to eat the dinner. Taste exploded in her mouth, a yearning for a decent meal being sated. It was the best thing she'd had so far in this world.

"Do you count yourself as a soldier then?" asked Logan, watching as she began to eat.

"What would you call me doing so far as then? I was in Swift's brigade, I fought alongside men, downed the dead, hobbes and balverines,"

"I would say that was being a hero,"

"So I keep being told,"

"Do you not view yourself as such? The people believe the brave soldier of Mourningwood and my rebel brother are the new hope,"

"I view myself as someone trying to make a difference and save what I hold dear,"

"And what do you hold dear?"

The hero gazed up, heart shaped face flickering in the firelight setting off an aged look and the brief time she had fought in this world reflected in her sharp blue eyes. The scars littered across her body told many tales of battles and fights that a hero must endure.

"I hold my friends dearly; I would've died in order to protect them. I would have given up everything to know they were save and still fighting. They are the closest thing to family and they are worth fighting for," she answered.

The king leaned further back into his dining room chair looking the woman up and down again. Such beauty, such honesty, such pride. What a trophy she would be to have in the royal court. A hero with noble intentions would surely win favour among the masses.

Izzy stopped eating, ignoring her growling stomach calling out for more food. She wasn't used to the rich flavourings that started to make her feel ill. Decent meals were hard to come by since she had converted to nomadic lifestyle. She only knew not to have a meal in the Cock in the Crown. However, those thoughts could be pushed aside for another time. More pressing matters were ahead like figuring out the kings game plan. Whenever Thomas had wanted something, he always acted extra nice in order to manipulate Izzy into doing it. She realised this wasn't much different apart from this time, it was with a king. The question that sat on her tongue could no longer wait.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, staring him straight in the eye.

The king pushed away his uneaten dinner, fist clenched at the question, eyes averting from her for the first time. Up until this point they had not left her, taking in her new feminine form. His haunted features were more sinister against the blazing fire as the shadows seemed to grow across them. The silence wrapped around the both of them, the tense air growing as the answer was delayed. Finally he spoke.

"Are you not glad I have chosen to spare your life? Cannot not be happy I been merciful, making sure you have ended up like your beloved Swift?" asked Logan, his eye-line unwavering. Izzy's hand wrapped tightly around the knife she held, trying not to dive forward and bury it in the kings heart. Blood would spoil the nice dress she had been given. Plus, some poor servant would also have to clean up the mess.

"No,"

Logan flinched as if he had been struck. No one had spoken to him like this in a long time. Not even Darius would be so bold, fearing his older brother's wrath. But this pretty little woman sat at his table and denied his compassion!

"Then you are ungrateful,"

"No, I am not. I watched as a dear friend was butchered in front of a crowd, I have seen the people in the streets and I have experienced your so called mercy, so don't you dare call me ungrateful,"

The king abruptly stood up, knocking his chair backwards. It clattered onto the ground only to be picked up by the manservant who quickly scurried back into the shadows. A hand was about to be risen in anger only for a fork to be driven through a sleeve and into the table. Logan looked down in fury at the utensil now wedged into the fine wood, stopping him from striking the woman. Such an ungrateful harlot! She didn't know what was coming! What he had seen!? How could her noble addled mind comprehend what was coming for Albion?

Izzy stood up, heart beating against her chest, watching as the king struggled to take out the implanted fork from his fancy clothes. The manservant called for the guards, the purple menaces barging in and aiming rifles at the hero. Logan took out the fork, inspecting the damage. Only a mild tear. He waved the guards off, seeing an orange spark beneath Izzy's glove. He slowly walked over to her impressed that the woman stood her ground although clearly frightened. With all his anger, he could not strike the hero, instead bending forward and kissing her on startled lips. Shock waves echoed through her body, brain kick starting once more and pushing Logan away.

He smiled, standing in front Izzy so she was backed against the wall with no means of escape.

"You will attend the annual summer ball with me next week. There I will announce our engagement. You will provide the love and support I need from the locals and an heir who will become a hero, if not, I will find everything you love and destroy in front of you," he stated, placing down the fork and exiting the room. Izzy watched him leave, a great sense of dread passing over her like a great storm. Could she really escape this?

Logan being a big ol' creeper. That's it for that lengthy chapter, we'll be seeing our rebels in the next chapter and maybe some more Reaver.