Valore, Princes and Bad Guys

Fourteen

Hand in Hand with the Damned-Alesana

WARNING: EXTREME GORE AT THE END

It was cold and wet where she was. Her legs ached and a brutal chill settled deep into her bones, making her shiver violently. Everything was pounding with the thump of her pulse; she could feel it in her neck, her wrists, her ankles, even the bend of her knees. The carriage was jostled as a guard sat beside her, head bowed.

He was young, looking close to her age maybe, his uniform small enough to reveal tattooed wrists and hairy ankles, helmet tipped to obscure his face. It took her several minutes to place his stature and tattooed wrists: Ramon.

Something akin to panic crawled in her chest, frantic and hot and brutal, as the carriage rocked violently, sending her stumbling into the side. Her head smacked hard and stars blossomed. He landed on her, pressing her into the floor and she fought him hard as she could, kicking her legs, raking her nails at him, crying, screaming until her voice was hoarse and her throat couldn't take in air without aching.

"Stop, right now," he hissed, his dangerous eyes glaring down at her. Summoning the last of her courage, she spat in his face and his dark eyes grew even darker. "Unless you want them to come in and ruin my plan and kill you and I both, I suggest you shut your mouth, Princess," he whispered in a deathly soft voice, dangerous eyes dark and bottomless, staring down at her; her saliva dripped off his mouth, down his chin and he wiped it away calmly with his sleeve.

"Good girl," he breathed, glancing up ahead. "Everything okay?" asked the guard up front. "Yes. Just bumped the wall," replied Ramon. "W-what's th-thi—" Chloe stuttered, eyes wide as he pulled himself off her and hovered there, eyes gleaming in the dim light like a predator's.

"He wants to scar you, Princess, and Liam and I won't allow that to happen." He got to his feet, steadied himself, and pulled her to her legs. She wobbled onto the bench.

"Why the change of heart?" she whispered, anger burning away the cold for a split second. Shivering, she hugged her knees, not caring for a split second of looking lady like; her dress was stained with mud from the guards dragging her into the carriage.

"Rachelle, that's why," Ramon murmured, touching a glint of metal beneath his armor. "That bastard gave her up so…easily," he bit out, lips peeling back from his teeth as he flopped down beside her. "We left, went somewhere. A warehouse, I think. But, god, Princess, you don't know how badly he loved to hurt her. She was infatuated with him, too blinded to see his evil." He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes; he looked tired and worn out, the hollows of his cheeks casting long, dark shadows across his skin.

She patted his hand gently and relaxed.

"He'd…beat her within an inch of her life, leaving her on the cold floor to heal from bruises and sprained bones and bleeding places and that's when it happened. It was only myself who took care of her; and then, of course, Liam followed shortly. While Royce left to find a wretch, we took care of the one we'd grown fond of. She was so broken, Princess, so broken. And then I realized…" He stared down at his hands, swallowing hard; his Adam's Apple bobbed as he trembled.

"…I realized I loved her. Not that puppy-dog following you around kind. I'd kill for her, regardless of the consequences. Especially that damn Royce."

Chloe settled herself against his side, shivering as she thought of a different body against her, with strong, hard arms and a deeper voice and emerald eyes, curling black hair that he wore back.

She wished he would come save her.

oOo

The sunlight burned her eyes as Ramon gripped her arms and shoved her forward without really being forceful. He'd explained the plan in soft whispers, his breath tickling her ear, fingers tending to the bump on her head.

Royce had sold Rachelle away to the Dark King and, once he heard she was being sent to Derek, of all people, he went ballistic and beat her unconscious. One of the King's guards had found her and they were currently trying to heal her with salves and prayers.

"Somehow," said a thick, accented voice beside her as a rough hand grabbed her other arm. Long, dingy blonde hair curled around his stubble-ridden face as he licked his teeth, "I doubt prayers will save us from His grasp."

"Who's?" Chloe whispered, craning her neck over her shoulder. They were in Sacramento, now; it was early morning grey and the birds had yet to wake; everything was quiet and gentle but something dark tainted everyone's minds.

"Your Majesty," Ramon and Liam said unison, dropping to their knees and bowing, a fist clamped over their hearts; realizing she was facing royalty (even the twisted, sick kind), she curtsied the best she could. Her short, choppy hair that had been dyed with bat blood stuck to her neck, making her uncomfortable; she'd been forced to dye it that morning and she looked sickly and starved.

"Good morning, Princess," said the Dark King, smiling down at her. For a minute, she could see a handsome, older Derek, with exception of the Devil eyes. "I want you to see this bastard brought to justice," he whispered and pulled her from Liam and Ramon's grasps with ease; she felt helpless as he dragged her to the middle of the town square.

Set up in the middle of the square, as high as the church steeple, was along, gleaming spike, driven into the soft earth. Something hot and acidic and horrible rose in her stomach in a wave as she gaped over at the Dark King. There was a stage off to their left and she saw some guards drag a fighting body to the spike.

Thwack.

Blood sprayed the ground and splattered across her face. She didn't know who was screaming higher: her or Royce. Bile rose in her throat and she vomited in the bushes as the Dark King watched her amusedly.

They were butchering him right in front of her, his screams growing weaker and weaker as they flayed him open and cut him piece by piece.

Thwack. He was alive with the cut off his hands.

Thw-thwack. They hacked off his feet; blood pooled. Thwack. There went below his knees, flaying the skin open. He pissed himself as the axe came down at his left elbow. His screaming died into sobs, alternating between praying and crying for forgiveness.

Thwack. His right elbow was gone.

He looked ready to pass out or vomit or maybe just die. He lasted far longer than expected. They broke his nose and ribs slowly. He was begging for mercy when the Dark King pushed Chloe forward and shoved something into her hands. Hot, wet liquid dripped from the handle and soaked her hands, making it slippery and, swaying with exhaustion, she let the axe fall forward.

Thwack.

His lifeless eyes stared up at her, stained red, dripping with tears. The axe she'd dropped was buried in his throat; his head rolled and rested against her toes. Wetness seeped over her bare toes.

Her screaming woke the kingdom of Sacramento.