Chapter 4:
So sorry DX. I know. Incredibly long wait for the few of you who are reading this story. I really am sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter though, please tell me what you think of it, I did work pretty hard on it XD. (You can also tell me how much y'all hate me for making you wait so long in a review.)
Oria woke up to a knock on her door. She groaned as she realized how dark it was outside and looked around, bleary eyed. Her room seemed quiet and lonely; the large spaces of intricately carved stone seemed unnecessary. She got up and walked slowly to the door, her eyes half closed. She didn't have a hangover, thank goodness. She had kept herself guarded around the general with a red hand and thanks to her caution, she had a clear mind.
She opened the heavy door to see Vile standing in the torch lit hallway.
She frowned, "What time is it?" She demanded, suddenly seeing that it was dark outside.
Vile motioned her to follow and turned on his heel, walking quickly down the corridor. She clutched her robe around her and stepped out, shivering from the cold stone floor. She padded after him quickly; following him as he practically ran down the stairs, shadows trailing after him like angry vipers.
When they reached the bottom, Vile headed towards the door that led to the dungeons.
"Wait!" Oria hissed, glaring at him. He stopped and looked back at her.
"You expect me to go out looking like this?" She snapped, gesturing to her tangled hair and night robe.
Vile's shadows flicked angrily as if to say he didn't care what state her hair was in, but Oria was already stomping up the stairs to her room to change.
Oria flung open her unnecessarily large wardrobe and started choosing her outfit. She pulled out a dark olive green armored shirt and long, loose, black armored pants. Her boots were dark leather and her gloves where matching.
She grinned as she admired herself in the mirror. She vainly stared at her face, and smiled at her beauty. She tilted her head in the mirror, smirking as she started pulling her hair into a loose braid. She was beautiful, she was confident. Honestly, she couldn't blame poor Serpine for falling for her; she was, in her mind's eye, stunning.
I wonder what Kane thinks of my looks.
She stopped and stared at the face in the mirror that reflected her own. Where had that thought come from? She didn't mind the red-handed general's servant, and he was fairly attractive, but when had she started to care about what he thought of her?
He was a simple servant. He was a commoner, a peasant. She ate off of his kind's backs. He was nothing. He shouldn't have mattered, but a part of her knew. Knew that no matter how hard she tried, what he thought would always matter.
She shook her head and put her thoughts back to the task at hand. Vile was undoubtedly waiting outside for her and she didn't want him going off to complain to her father on the second day of being his apprentice.
Oria slipped out of her room and looked up at Lord Vile who was standing outside her room, his armor writhing with annoyance and impatience.
"Much better don't you think?" Oria cooed, patting her hair and smirking.
Vile stared at her before turning and striding towards. Oria huffed with annoyance and started running to keep up.
They descended into the depths of the castle, where candles were the only source of light and Vile's shadows seemed to get more excited and powerful, as if they fed off the stench of misery and death.
The dungeons held mostly prisoners of war and spies, but there were always some mortals kept for the sake of hurting them.
Oria made a face as they passed cells where prisoners were waiting for death.
My gods they stink. Oria thought irritably, wishing she were back in her comfortable bed and not in this hellhole.
Vile kept walking until he reached the end of the cells. He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the cell. Oria tried to peer in to see who was in there, but Vile blocked her view.
He reached his armored hand into the cell and pulled a starved man. His skin had used to be tan, but months spent in a cell had made his skin pale and sickly. He had greasy black hair that came out of his head in clumps. His teeth were rotted and his eyes were dead orbs, devoid of hope.
Oria unconsciously shivered at the horrid sight of him, but pushed back all feelings of disgust.
Vile shoved the man towards the room known throughout the castle as the 'torture room'. Oria looked at him indignantly.
Did he really expect her to torture this animal? She was Mevolent's daughter. She should have some sort of pass from these sorts of things.
Oria crossed her arms and glared at the armored necromancer, refusing to enter the torture room. She had taken so much time to make herself look presentable and now Vile wanted her to go in there and get blood all over her outfit? What if Kane saw her? He'd think she was a psychopath.
Vile shoved a piece of paper at her, and Oria took it with surprise. The note read in her father's handwriting,
Lord Vile.
I believe in my absence, my daughter has grown soft like a simple–minded girl. Show her how ugly war can really be. I will support any means you see fit to rid her of her weakness.
Lord Mevolent
Oria whimpered and looked up at Vile hatefully, "He stinks though."
Vile grabbed her arm and squeezed it, the sharp metal digging into her arm and making her yelp with pain.
She touched him in an attempt to break his bones but nothing happened. She looked up at him with fear, but he was dragging her into the room like an angry parent would with a child. He slammed the door behind her and let go of her arm.
Oria gaped at her arm and the blood that was coming from it, "You hurt me!" She gasped.
Vile handed her a whip and tilted his head towards the prisoner who was staring at the ground with hopelessness.
Oria sighed with resentment and raised the whip with a bored expression on her face. She lashed the man across the face and he let forth a bloodcurdling scream.
Oria's eyes widened at the sound and she turned to Vile, "Do I have to do this?" She pleaded, trying to avoid looking at the man who was crying. Crying because of her.
When she received no answer from the dark general, she sighed and winced, bringing the whip down on the man again and again. Oria tried closing her eyes, but the image of the man screaming was seared into her mind.
She felt tears well in her eyes as the man went limp and didn't twitch when she struck him.
There was silence in the chambers, and Oria dropped the whip, breathing heavily. She looked up at Vile, vulnerable, with tears in her eyes, "Is he-" She choked, "Dead?"
Vile looked at her, his helmet's sockets boring into her soul.
"ANSWER ME!" She screamed, tears running down her face.
He remained silent, letting her desperate scream echo around the room that smelled of death and pain.
"Tell me," She whispered, her voice quivering with horror, "Did I kill that man?"
Something about Vile changed. Oria didn't know what it was, but for a moment, he looked, more human. The way he looked at her, the way he held himself.
"Yes."
Oria's eyes snapped up and she looked at Lord Vile with surprise, seeing that something about the shadows was thinning. He had spoken. It was a beautiful, velvety voice that sent shivers down her spine.
He reached a hand that didn't seem so consumed by his armor out to comfort her and she took a step back, a new anger taking the place of her despair,
"I HATE YOU!" She screamed, shoving him away her eyes sparkling with rage and hate, "I WISH YOU WERE DEAD!"
Vile stiffened and the shadows returned, as powerful as ever. His armor looked more solid and he looked like the cruel horrible Vile she knew.
She ran from the room, sobbing, and left Vile alone in the room with a corpse.
Her words echoed in his head and he gazed after her and snarled, "Wish granted."
Gone was the smooth voice, the one that had a drop of sanity in it, and all hope of the dark general's salvation with it.
So. The end of the chapter. Remember, if I get lots of reviews *looks at the three people who actually read this fanfic* I update much quicker.