AN:

I know. It's been waaay too long and I have yet to update my other pieces. I've been having difficulty coming up with ways to keep myself inspired, but when I went back and read The Kingdom of The Wicked, I remembered what I intended for this fanfiction to be and I wrote this chapter. I'll keep writing the 7th chapter. Reviews would really help speed up the process :)

Happy Holidays everyone!

Chapter 6:

Over the next few weeks, Lord Vile seemed to be trying to make up for that horrible night in the torture room. He took her to different places and taught her different skills that the basic soldier knew. She learned how to start a fire, track animals and humans, the basics of medicine and, despite her protests, Lord Vile taught her martial arts.

But the more he tried to make things easier for her, the more she grew to hate him. He had claimed killing had made her stronger, but Oria felt weaker then ever. Her dreams were haunted by the prisoner's screams and whenever she got near the dungeons, she broke out in a cold sweat. She had lost all carefree thoughts that she had before, and viewed the world in the way a trapped animal would. It was revolting; witnessing how far she had fallen under Vile's training.

Serpine had been understanding and kind. He had told her about the first time he killed someone. Despite her earlier thoughts, Oria found herself liking the man with the red hand more and more. She spent most evenings in his chambers, eating dinner and talking to him. When he flirted, she flirted back.

She did this because if she pretended she liked Serpine; if she pretended that their relationship was loving, she could imagine that she was a good person. Someone who loved and who and was loved. He was there for her when no one else was.

But no matter how hard she tried to pretend, ultimately, she was alone at night. She was alone with her poisonous thoughts and her horrible nightmares.

Scenes of battles flashed in her mind, horrible beasts of unimaginable size tore her to bits, but even when they had consumed her, she was still alive, screaming with horror within them.

Whenever she dreamt of these things, she would wake up in a cold sweat, the covers twisted and bunched up. She would find a servant and order them to bring her a mug of warm milk and she would sit by the dying fire, gazing at the patterns in the flames.

She would drift off to sleep, and forget the demented dreams that haunted her.

But there was one dream she could never forget. One dream that couldn't be cured by fire and warm drinks. A nightmare that she found herself enjoying.

A nightmare where she was an unstoppable force, stamping out whole towns with a single glare. She would watch with primal pleasure as men, women, and children fell to the ground, screaming in agony, before they collapsed for good.

Although she knew she had dreamt this, she could never remember the details that had existed in these dreams; how had she been able to kill so many? Why had she enjoyed it?

She kept these dreams close to heart; fearing others would see the darkness in them and in her.

X

A light dusting of frost covered the peaceful morning. Oria would usually observe these tranquil mornings from her bedroom under decadent robes and in a cushioned chair. Today however, the young mage found herself in a plain cotton tunic in the middle of the woods with nothing but a tent to cover her and a thin tarp to sleep on. She was curled up in a tight ball to conserve body heat, and was trying her hardest to sleep.

Vile had taken Oria into the vast woods that surrounded her father's fortress. Vile had insisted it was to toughen her up, but with every day they trudged through the thick and unruly underbrush, Oria became more and more convinced it was his plot to kill her.

When Vile sent the tent flying with a wave of shadows, Oria sat up with frustration, her thin patience ripping in half, "What the hell?" She yelled, looking up at him with a sleepy and fed up look.

Vile gestured for her to get up and Oria crossed her arms angrily, "No. I want to sleep."

Vile's armor began to churn angrily and Oria sighed and stumbled to her feet and looked mournfully at the now destroyed remains of the tent, "That took hours for me to set up…"

Vile turned and started walking away. She growled and stomped after the necromancer, hugging herself for warmth as they walked through the undergrowth of the forest.

"I guess it would be useless to ask what sort of torture you're going to be putting me through today right?" She yelled grumpily at him as her teeth chattered. The forest may be peaceful for some, but in Oria's opinion, peaceful would be snuggling underneath her covers and sleeping all day.

He didn't answer, but kept walking.

"I knew it." She growled and kept walking.

The day wore on and the kept walking. Oria had attempted to get more information from Vile, but he remained infuriatingly silent. The forest had begun to warm up, but the grass they were walking through was still wet from the morning dew.

When the sun had reached its peak, Oria decided she had enough. She plopped down in the middle of the road and groaned with exhaustion; pulling off her thin and simple shoes and rubbing the painful blisters on her feet.

Vile looked back and gestured for her to get up and keep moving.

"You know, I'm only human." Se snarled, crossing her arms, "I'm sick of you treating me like some machine that can take this much pressure."

Vile tilted his head and seemed to ponder his situation. He could try and drag her, but she would put up a fight and whine the whole way. He could wait for her to get up, but with Oria, she could take all day if she felt like it.

Finally, he shot his hand out and shadows wrapped gently around her and lifted her up. Oria yelped with surprise and tried to grab onto the shadows.

"What are you doing?" She yelled, her voice panicked and angry.

Vile turned and started walking, and the shadows carried her.

Oria fell silent. It was actually kind of fun. It was like riding a horse but with no bumps or uncomfortable movements.

"So," She said finally, her voice quiet and a little more humble, "Where are we going?"

Vile didn't answer for a moment, but then a shadow formed the single word,

Home.

Oria yelled with relief and jumped off the shadows. Vile turned quickly, startled and expecting an attack, but Oria rushed forward and hugged his cold armor.

"Thank you thank you!" She squealed.

Vile froze, and let a batch of needle-sharp shadows that he had pointed at Oria's head dissolve.

A hug. Even the dark general could remember a time when he had cherished them. Something flickered behind the mask for a split second, and the skeleton within roared rebelliously; desperately fighting to be free of his plagued mind.

Oria felt Vile's armor soften just a bit and she was surprised to feel his arms wrap around her too.

She heard him clear her throat, and she stepped back, looking at him with curiosity. He was using his voice again…

"You know, you shouldn't hide your voice Vile," She said her voice much lighter now that she knew they were escaping this horrible forest, "It's actually quite nice."

Vile paused for a moment before saying, "Vile is not my name-"

Oria, too busy gushing over the fact that she was going to be home again, didn't hear him, "And I forgive you for that one night. I mean, I was going to have to kill sometime right? You did make me stronger. Maybe, someday," She said a little shyly, "I can be like you."

Vile stiffened as if she had taken a pike and slammed it into his heart and twisted it. The skeleton within the maniac collapsed, hopelessly confined back by the dark shadows in Vile's mind.

"Anyways," She said, smiling with a face full of a new energy, "Let's get home shall we?"

He nodded and swept ahead of her. The internal struggle was over. Vile was in control. Every time he managed to break her down, take her farther than the sweet and ignorant child she had been before, was a battle lost for the skeleton.