Chapter Twenty-Eight: Prison
Five Months Later
Alex stumbled over the hem of the pretty blue evening gown she'd been instructed to wear that evening. Her foot caught and she doubled over, catching herself just in time before she went careening face first into the fireplace. Her vision had been compromised and she had been seeing double for the past few hours as she aimlessly wandered in her beautiful dress. Her head was spinning, pounding with the effects of her alcohol abuse over the past few months, and over the course of the day, specifically.
A hysterical giggle bubbled out of her throat.
If only it were as simple as tripping and landing in the fireplace.
She'd already attempted that. There was a protective barrier around the fireplace. Charms around any and all sharp objects in the kitchen - only after Claudia had found her bleeding out on the floor with a butcher knife clenched in one bloody hand. Alex found, after trying to drown herself, that the tub magically drained itself only moments after being filled. The damn sheets were magically superglued to the beds so she couldn't even fashion a fucking prison noose.
She threw her tumbler of whiskey at the brick mantle of the fireplace and as expected, it bounced off of the protective charms and landed uselessly in the middle of the room, its contents spilled across the plush victorian carpet.
Peter Hale's impressive estate was a sight to behold.
It was beautiful, bigger than she probably knew and so ornate with a rustic elegance that if she focused on it for too long her breath would catch.
It was still her prison.
A gilded fucking cage.
She haunted the halls of the house in her beautiful gowns and ridiculous nightwear. The beauty and elegance mocked her each night she meandered through the halls in her finery feeling like a shell of who'd she had been before Peter had stolen her from Stiles' bed so long ago.
The first month had been the hardest. She had fought with everything in her to find an escape, some crack in the wall, or a spot that hadn't been cloaked with magic. It had proved futile and she'd nearly killed herself a few times in the process, the power and intensity of the protection spells around the mansion were incredibly forceful.
The only plus had been that Peter himself never really made an appearance. The situation she was in was clear, she was a prisoner - to be kept here under magical lock and key until the Hunter's Moon came around and she was to be sacrificed. Peter came maybe once a month, for a formal dinner where he would leer at her, clad in the dresses he bought, eyeing her with a cruel smirk and making her feel as though this couldn't possibly be real.
She often reminisced on the night she'd been taken.
About Stiles.
His shaking hands on her skin, and his hot mouth so eager against hers. How he'd waited for her to nod or moan in encouragement before he went further than he thought she might have wanted. He'd taken her breath away more times than just once, he was gentle and hesitant, the experience had been beautiful and she'd understood - a few weeks after becoming a prisoner and having way more free time than she could have bargained for, he had most likely been a virgin.
It hadn't hindered her experience, she'd come. Very hard. She had been the one to end the night shaking and more vulnerable than she had expected. Though his hands had been trembling and he'd been wide eyed during the encounter; the feelings, the passion, and the safety had meant so much more and effected her on a physical level.
How he had touched her and caressed her seemed to erase the notion that all the fighting she'd gone through to avoid her human nature while being a hunter could just ebb and flow away with the touch of his lips to her neck, the sure press of his tongue to her nipple and the electrifying pressure of his fingers on her most sensitive parts.
She held on to that feeling of love. She held it as close to her heart as she could and used it as a life line when she felt that her resolve was slipping.
Though, eventually, it did.
The weeks of isolation, of trying and failing to escape, of hopelessness that he would never find her or maybe wasn't even looking for her at all.
The closer she came to the Hunter's Moon the more she could feel the magic confined to her body looking for an escape.
.
It had taken her two months to really lose hope, and it had come to a head with Peter's monthly dinner.
They sat apart from each other, across a large table that could have easily sat twelve. He sat at the head of the table and she sat as far away as he would allow, which was only three seats away. He held his usual smile that was laced with malice and disdain. Such cruel intentions were so plainly clear on his face and she lost any appetite she may have had.
"How are you tonight, my sweet?" He had said, leering down the low cut neckline of her tight satin gown. "You're looking a little thin for my liking." He seemed to think on this for a moment and then yelled into the kitchen, "CLAUDIA, POTATOES!"
Alex flinched against her better judgment as the enslaved witch hurried to the table and piled more onto her plate. The witch looked just as bad as Alex did under all the pretty fabric and meticulously applied makeup. The two shared a look as Claudia retreated back to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with the head of the table.
"You haven't answered my question, Love." Peter smiled through a mouthful of steak making him look particularly wolfish. He sipped his wine and Alex's mouth watered at the sight because her only chance to drink away her sorrows came when he was here. She reached for her own glass, downing half the contents before fixing him with a heated look.
"I've been better." Was her agitated reply.
"Why is that, pray tell?"
He knew why and when she didn't say anything more he smiled even wider.
"I don't know why you keep trying to escape - you've seen Claudia's work first hand." He filled up his own glass with more wine. "It's futile, obviously."
"You obviously don't know me very well."
"On the contrary, sweetheart." His smile with dripping with antagonism. "I'd wager I know you better than you know yourself."
She finished her glass swiftly, "Well, if we're betting," She matched his smile with one of her own that she knew looked more feral than anything else. "I'd say I know a bit about you, too."
Derek had confided in her a few things about his uncle and it wasn't like they'd learned nothing while trying to figure out his identity when he'd first bitten Scott.
"How I do love to be psychoanalyzed." He chuckled, "Please, continue."
"Well, you've got a bit of a God complex - if memory serves."
"Is that so?"
"Derek Hale was the prodigy - the son of Talia. Everyone loved him and respected him, was waiting for the day he would take up as Alpha of your measly little backwoods pack." She unseated herself to reach inappropriately across the table to grab the wine bottle and take a swig straight from the neck, keeping it in her hand as she continued. "You, green with envy at his success in school and just about everywhere else you had failed."
"- I would advise you to shut your -"
"He had all the potential," Another swig of wine, "He had love." Another swig and the bottle was nearly gone. "He had potential - a whole life waiting for him until you and your petulant little fingers decided to go postal-"
"-don't have to be conscious the whole time you're here -"
"-disappointment to your whole family, smarmy little bitch-"
"-SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH -"
"-no wonder everyone liked him better -"
"-SHUT YOU UP ANY WAY I HAVE TO-"
"-could have been a true Alpha without having to kill, unlike-"
Peter Hale had soared in a terrifying arch over the table, eyes wild and unencumbered with his arms outreached for her neck. She'd had the reflexes to dart out of her chair as quickly as she could, landing in a heap on the floor as Peter tried to right himself.
The contents of the upended table had spilled across the floor leaving shards of broken glass everywhere, like a mine field.
She tried to crawl away from him and his screaming but he grabbed hold of her foot and dug his nails, which had extended to their wolf form, into her calf and she'd screamed out in pain. He dragged her through the dining room, uncaring of the broken wine glass that had wedged itself into her chest just below her clavicle. By the time he had dragged her to the drawing room she was covered in wine and blood.
Claudia watched silently with tears in her eyes from the kitchen as Peter beat her unconscious well into the night.
Alex expects that night was when her tentative friendship with the witch began.
The magic in her blood rejoiced at the cuts on her skin - a way to escape.
.
At the beginning of the third month Alex found an impressive haul of whiskey, vodka and bourbon in her room.
An apology from the witch, she realized.
They'd began speaking of the lives they'd lived before Peter had imprisoned them. Claudia went to a school, a school that taught young witches and warlocks to hone their powers and learn more about them. She spoke of it with a fond smile on her face, remembering things from her time there that she would not share. She spoke of her friends, she spoke of the other supernatural creatures that attended, though in different classes. Claudia spoke with a wry smile about a class that was mandatory for all students, no matter their specialty, about how to evade hunters and keep their monumental secrets.
She had also told her that Peter held her littlest sister somewhere in Europe, a bargaining chip for her cooperation. Her mother had told her to do whatever it takes to retrieve the young witch from Peter's clutches, and so she had. She'd gone with Peter willingly hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
Alex, in turn, spoke of her sister. How much she cared for her, how much she wished that she never need know about the horrors of their world. She spoke of how much she had learned by becoming friends with Scott McCall and how much her life and perspectives had changed in tandem. She didn't speak of Stiles - that hurt too much. Claudia had a knowing look in her eyes whenever Alex's throat closed up with another memory of whiskey eyes and trembling hands, she would smile a little and turn away, allowing Alex to collect herself.
During Peter's third visit to the mansion, Claudia had painted her lips a blood red and explained that it could be an armour of sorts, the lipstick and the the eyeliner - it could be warpaint, if she could just trick herself into thinking it was so.
Peter had been in an all black suit, it matched her skimpy scrap of a dress. Alex knew it was punishment for her behaviour at the last dinner - it covered nothing and he hadn't provided any undergarments to go with it. He would know how uncomfortable she was and he would enjoy it. She'd been drunk every moment since Claudia had gifted her the alcohol she had screamed for in her first month. It gave her the courage to sit across from him with a saccharine smile.
"They'll never find you." Was his greeting. "Even if they hadn't already given up."
He kept the wine to himself tonight.
"Stiles went back to Beacon Hills, he didn't care that you'd gone and neither did Derek or Scott." His smile nearly split his face in half and the red wine made it look like he'd bitten a chunk out of human flesh, the red liquid dripping between his teeth. "They're back at school, ready to get their diplomas and move on."
More silence.
"Your family seems happy to be rid of a problem." He laughed then, high pitched and grating. "Maybe I should ask for compensation."
She would go to bed that night, dizzy and nauseous and knowing in her bones that she shouldn't believe Peter's vile words and yet not having the will enough to believe she would still be here if they weren't true.
The itch beneath her skin burned with a fury she hadn't ever felt before - but the charms on her wouldn't allow her nails to break the skin and release it.
.
The fourth month saw her spending more time in the library, trying to focus her drunken mind on the words that spun on the page. She'd stopped eating unless Peter was there to force her with spells and other unwanted magic, she puked most nights because of the whiskey. She was withering away and she couldn't find the strength to care. She spent a month alone in the library, drunk and vomiting on books that probably cost more than her own worth in the eyes of her friends and family.
She had gotten used to the constant burn of her blood circulating in her veins, constantly looking for a way out.
.
The fifth month Peter had seen her quick deterioration and had made Claudia put spells in place to make her eat. Every night she was bound to a chair in the dining room and made to eat everything on her plate. If she refused, and most nights she did, a burning searing pain would rear its ugly head in every nerve and vein in her body. The magic would set her body on fire until the pain became too much. Claudia would look on as Alex struggled with a sad downturn to her pleasant mouth and eventually turn away.
Sometimes, Alex could fight the magic for hours until she was so tired her screaming turned to whimpering. Sometimes her will to care was so slight and the hope that the spell might actually kill her so prominent she would sit there in anguish until she would pass out. Only to be roused by Claudia and forced to endure it all again.
In the end, it didn't matter. She drank too much to keep anything down, anyway.
The fifth month were the weeks that led to the suicide attempts.
There was no escape and no one was coming to help her, so the most logical thing to do was to off herself before Peter could take what was hers.
"You need to stop this." Claudia warned, applying makeup to her dark circles with a heavy hand. "It creates more work for me."
"Sorry for the inconvenience." Alex muttered, a wry smile on her lips at the teasing tone.
It might have been Stockholm syndrome that had endeared the dark skinned witch to Alex, but she didn't allow herself such thoughts. One ally was better than none and maybe Claudia might actually care if she died for reasons that didn't only encompass her younger sister.
"Do you really think they aren't coming for you?" Claudia meant her friends, the people they spent hours taking about.
"No. It's been too long. They might even be dead - or just hoping the problem will go away."
"That's what he wants you to think, you know?" She whispered, her voice carrying lowly over the slight breeze artificially created by her magic as the windows couldn't be opened.
"Maybe," Alex grimaced, reaching for her whiskey. She didn't like to think about her friends, family or Stiles anymore. "Maybe they're dead - at least then I could forgive them."
"I can tell you, even if they were camped right outside of my wards - they wouldn't find this place." Claudia continued in her whispered tone. She was right to be cautious, Peter had no issues beating two teenaged girls into submission. "They could be trying."
"They're not." It was her decided opinion. It had been months and her sanity was hanging by a thread. She dreamed of her friends so often that now it only hurt to think of rescues and happy endings.
One Month Later: Night of the Hunter's Moon
She was in her rooms, looking at the white dress that had been laid out for her on the monumental occasion. It was a delicate lace that made up the sleeves and a beautiful long slip underneath that reached her toes. It was beautiful, if not a little virginal and she thought that maybe Allison would have liked it. There were a lovely set of underwear to accompany it and she supposed that this dress required going without a bra. The shoes next to the bed were again, white and were supported by a rather intimidating heel.
Claudia entered the room, tears already shining in her lovely hazel eyes.
"Don't do that." Alex demanded.
"Can't help it."
"Well, please try." She forced out. "If you start, then I'll start and I'm way too sober for this."
"You're never sober."
"I'm more sober than I've been in weeks." She admitted, "Today, I drink and drink and yet, nothing. They should write stories about it, fairytales. The girl whose tolerance for alcohol has gotten so high, she has to die sober."
"You're like Rapunzel, but with puke in her hair." Claudia smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes and Alex wanted to cry even harder.
"You're the evil witch keeping me here, then?" Alex had meant it as a joke but then Claudia started crying inconsolably Alex's guilt filled her up so fully, she felt she might drown in it.
Alex put a hand on Claudia's shoulder who had doubled over clutching at the stark white bedspread with white knuckles.
"You know I was making a bad joke." Alex rushed out. "I've made more than you can count here and I know you've got a running tally."
"I-I know!" Claudia choked on her words, allowing her clenched hands to release the sheets and tangle in Alex's silk nightgown as she fell into her shoulder with heart wrenching sobs. Alex's arms encircled the slight waif of a witch and pulled her close. "I'm just so sorry I had to do this."
"I know." Alex admitted, because it was all she could say.
"It would have been easier if you were a bitch." Claudia laughed through a stream of tears and Alex pulled back from their hug to wipe the tears away from her face. She stared into the witches eyes and hoped that she could convey how much it had meant to her to have someone here - anyone, really. But specifically the curly haired witch who matched her in sarcasm and had a penchant for books.
"Do you know what will happen tonight?" Alex finally asked once Claudia had calmed.
"You put on the outfit," She gestured to the dress, "I do the makeup." She hiccoughed and inhaled with a violent shiver. "I accompany you to the pyre, it's been built outside. Peter will drink your blood-"
"He'll bite me?"
"Yes, he will bite and drain you. Then, he will light the pyre and burn your body." There was a trail of snot running down the witches face and Alex felt an overwhelming urge to comfort her. "I need to speak an incantation while the moon is at its fullest - and, and it will be, it will be done."
Alex took the witches shaking hand into her own and squeezed with what she hoped resembled confidence.
"I don't blame you." She whispered.
Claudia only cried harder.
It's the truth for Alex. Years of hating supernaturals and being conditioned to value their lives next to that of rats and vermin, and yet here she is, consoling one for having to kill her.
What strides one could make.
"Save your sister." Alex said over the witches desperate cries. "Once you've said the incantation, be very wary. Alright?" Alex tilted Claudia's head so she was looking into her eyes with conviction. Alex needed to know that Claudia was hearing her and listening to her instruction. "Peter will do what he can to get what he wants, and he very well may kill you after I'm dead. Be vigilant, cautious, and smart. Once I'm dead, expect the worst and be prepared to get yourself out of there."
Claudia can only nod.
It's several moments before either girl can bring themselves to do what they need to.
Alex headed to the bathroom where a bath of lavender and thyme waited for her. Under normal circumstances that idea might be lovely and much needed - if it weren't only for the fact that she needed to be cleansed before the ritual.
Claudia spoke a chant over the water for the duration of Alex's bath and then tearfully helped her into her dress.
"You look beautiful." Claudia whispered. "I know that's not the right thing to say - but it's true nonetheless."
Her hair was done in curls, some of it pinned up to the back of her head and the other half spilling around her face and over her shoulders. Alex had to admit after looking at herself in the mirror that she did look beautiful - like a beautiful, pure, virginal sacrifice.
Claudia started on her makeup and they spend that time trying to pretend things were as normal as possible.
When Claudia's eyes started to glisten, Alex cracks a joke and asks for her Bourbon.
When Alex starts to tear up, Claudia berates her for messing up her masterpiece.
The sun set and the moon had begun its steady rise in the sky.
It was time, but neither were ready.
It is unavoidable when the stark white glow of the moon infiltrates the bedroom and bathes everything in blue - it stuns them both of them as they eye the window with an awe that marvels seeing a miracle.
"I suppose this is it." Alex murmured, hands trembling while holding her glass. If the bourbon sloshes out, neither of them say anything.
"I have to have you out there in five minutes." Claudia mutters, eyes still fixated on the moon, glorious with its light. "I'm sorry, Alex."
"None of that." Alex coughed. "Let's go."
A moment of silence while neither of them make a move to leave the room. Then Alex said the only she can to ease not only her own wildly beating heart, but Claudia's painful guilt.
"I'm ready to die."