Chapter 8:Fallacy
The ride back to the castle was wordless. Quite like the sun disappearing and dowsing everything in the harsh ice of silence, the market returned to Izaya's eyes in matters of moments.
It had been exhausting.
Everything.
Riding through the night, head full with worries, not a wink of sleep. Then meeting the king in the early morning hours only to come face to face with a corpse that might as well resemble his own.
And now, after waking up at what must have been late afternoon and being abducted only to worsen their relationship Izaya was pretty much exhausted.
The strain on his body, the cold, the worry and endless game of pretenses-
"My lady." The maid servants had already scurried around him like a swarm of bees around their queen.
Izaya was at the castle.
The king had dropped him off at the gate. No more words were spoken, no offer to accompany him upstairs either.
It seemed he had been glad to get rid of Izaya as much as Izaya had been glad to part.
Swinging open the doors to his chambers, Izaya quickly turned with a glare on his face.
"I want to be left alone."
Confusion mirrored in the maids' expressions. They had wanted to fulfill their duties. Wash their future queen, help her dress, comb her hair, all the stuff that would expose Izaya's lies.
"But my lady-"
"Leave!" Angry, Izaya's words bellowed through the halls.
He didn't mean to be so harsh. The maidservants only did their best. They were dutiful, busy, only out to fulfill every desire he had.
But the day had been too long and Izaya's reserves depleted.
No more words were uttered as the maids quickly bowed.
The door slipped shut and Izaya was alone
Finally.
Completely alone.
Stumbling over to the vintage table, Izaya's palms met the surface in a harsh slam.
His eyes squeezed shut and he quickly fumbled for the cords on his back.
One, two, three- he pulled at the cords with high precision. Moving just wrong once might end up entangling him even more in this piece of cloth invented by the devil.
Calming down his mind and resisting the urge to yank the torturous device off his frame he executed immense patience.
And he was rewarded.
Loose the corset and dress fell as they slipped from his body. His chest rose. Air, so much more than had been available all day, finally filled his lungs.
For a moment Izaya just stood there, hunched over the table, enjoying the freedom of breathing- until they hit him. The coughs.
Whaking his body like strokes of a whip they bubbled from his chest in merciless waves.
It was the only good thing the dress had done. Forcing him to breathe evenly and shallowly had made it quite impossible to even try and cough. As if having accumulated the stress over the day, his body now showed him exactly the torment it had been put through.
Izaya was shaking.
It was cold.
Eyes glancing around the room, Izaya's lips trembled as he looked for the fireplace.
The flames had long burned down. Only dark red streaks glimmered in black coal barely giving off any heat.
Coughs far from subsiding, Izaya quickly stepped over to the dying flames, feeding them a piece of wood that had been placed next to it.
He almost dropped it when another set of harsh coughs beat his body.
There was nothing to do, nothing to help.
His father had sent him off just like that. With no medicine, no treatment, nothing.
Of course. Why would he? He didn't care.
For all Izaya knew the duke had wanted him dead for years.
Breathing shallowly Izaya pressed his palm against his chest in an attempt to calm the coughing down.
It might just be silly thinking, but the motion always seemed to somewhat help a bit.
His body trembled. Goosebump after goosebump traveled down his naked skin and he turned to his bed.
Upon entering the chamber he had seen a white piece of cloth on top of his covers.
Pulling it over he sighed in relief.
As expected.
It was a night gown.
The maids had probably already prepared it in advance.
Grateful for the silly fabric void of any tight parts, Izaya let his hands slip into the silken sleeves. Like gushes of fluffy water the material brushed over his skin. Arms, shoulders, chest.
This was a part he could get used to. A woman's nightgown proved to be far more comfortable than anything a man ever wore.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he couldn't help but think about his siblings.
What would they say seeing him in such a dress? They probably wouldn't believe their eyes. Kururi would probably circle him to look at her brother's new appearance from all possible angles, while Mairu would teach Izaya a prideful lesson of why she had always been right about how uncomfortable women's clothes were.
With a bite of bitterness Izaya found himself remembering the last day they spent together. The way Mairu climbed up the tree yet again. The way her hair dangled off her head in braided tails. Kururi as she thought about her next move on the board of chess, casually casting a gentle glance towards her wild sister.
Drawing his knees to his chest, Izaya's chin rested on top of them.
… were they okay?
He hoped they were. Maybe they were sitting at a fireplace right now, just as he was. Warming their little hands and cuddling while sleeping.
At least they had each other.
A cold breeze coming from the fireplace flickered the flame.
And suddenly Izaya just felt very much alone.
A slow glance traveled to the vintage table.
The knife he had shown the mercenary rested on it. Innocent and gorgeous the fire reflected in its various ornaments.
Just a little longer.
He sent out a mercenary. He would find them. He had to believe he would, otherwise….
Shaking his head quickly, Izaya pushed himself off the ground.
It was late.
The sun had already gone down all the way.
It had been dawning when the king rode him back. By now the mercenaries had packed their goods and retired for the night.
Soft droplets of rain decorated the fancy glass of his chamber window as he approached it.
…it irked him to just sit and wait.
Was there nothing else he could do?
Hand curling into a loose fist Izaya turned.
Quick steps trailed to the door leading to his chamber as he pressed his ear against the oak wood.
….
Nothing.
Had the maids already retreated for the night?
Probably. After all, he hadn't exactly given them a reason to stay.
Pleased by the outcome of his actions Izaya softly pressed down the handle of the door. It was funny. Considering its size and wooden components Izaya had expected a loud creak giving away his actions, but he was surprised with pleasant silence.
Quiet as a ghost he slipped out of his chamber.
There was no need to act so secretive. The future queen was allowed to do as she pleased. Worst that could happen was to run into a butler and have him ask if he should escort the lady anywhere.
But for Izaya's motives it was quite important to remain unseen.
Slipping into the darkness of the hallway he quickly made his way deeper into the castle.
He was searching. For what, he didn't know.
But fact was, only waiting for the mercenary to find his sisters seemed like a gamble too risky to take.
Maybe there was a way to postpone the wedding. Maybe even a way to blackmail the king.
He needed to find something. Anything of use.
Easier said than done at night.
Shadows of black and shapes of ornaments provided a fairly lacking view.
Entering a room to the right of the corridor Izaya found himself in what seemed to be a small study.
The moon was exercising quite the effort tonight and so it was dimly lit in cold blue.
It was enough to make out various bookshelves, feathers and documents… but too weak to actually read.
Setting down a piece of paper that Izaya had brought close to his eyes he sighed.
He would need to come back again with a proper light source.
It was then that his eyes laid upon a painting. Above the door it had been hanging and only now that Izaya had turned to leave he saw it.
It showed the royal family.
The late king. The sadistic tendencies were written all across his face. His smile was eerie and the hands on his son's shoulders seemed more like iron locks than touches of care and pride.
The painter had done quite the job capturing the brothers' expression. They seemed suited for the situation. Not one line was drawn in the wrong way and yet the picture just radiated disdain.
A walking pretense.
Even the mother's smile was a lie.
Averting his gaze Izaya stepped out of the room. He wasn't here to feel sorry for someone's past.
He was here to-
"My lady."
Startled Izaya jumped in his skin. A man stood next to the door, with no candle at hand or any source of light he could barely make out his frame. A butler.
Izaya relaxed, his mind thinking of a quick excuse as to why he was here- but all of that fell flat when goosebumps traveled down his spine instead.
This was the castle, the butler was supposed to be here. He had all the right to be.
So why was he trodding through darkness?
Too late Izaya saw a soft grin display on his lips, too late he noticed movement behind his back.
The sack of thick fabric was brought over his head faster than he was able to turn.
Hands of numerous numbers grasped his body left and right-
A muffled scream tore from his lips but his dear friends seemed to not fancy the display of noise as something hard and painful met the back of his neck and everything turned dark.
.
.
.
It was really funny.
He had infiltrated the king's castle quite like a cockroach. On his father's orders he was basically here to do nothing else but rid the king of his money and himself of his life.
Izaya had somehow lived under the impression that he was the only one acting on the worst urges humanity had to offer.
He had been wrong.
Eyes opening slowly Izaya tried to ignore the thrumming pain radiating from the back of his head.
Cold dampness greeted his forehead as it was resting on the ground. His hands were bound by a loose rope etching marks of red on his pale skin. It was quite dark.
A sole candle dripping wax from the wall was all that served as a light source as Izaya blinked against the blinding shine.
It seemed whoever brought on the pleasure of having him kidnapped had decided to throw him into some sort of cellar.
Barrels of wine, hay and an occasional rat completed the picture.
Pushing himself into a sitting position he avoided grazing the furry fellow only by a hair.
Laughter bellowed from the other side of what seemed to be a heavy wooden door.
Apart from the friendly rat he seemed to be alone. No chains had been attached to his legs and the rope around his wrists was more a joke than a binding.
Of course he was a lady.
They had nothing to fear. Why bother tie him up properly in the first place?
Heavy steps approached the door faster than Izaya liked them to.
He had only just regained consciousness, he hadn't even had a second to grasp the situation, not to mention come up with a plan.
His body tensed and the door opened with a sickening creak.
Shoes of dirty leather dressed an ugly guy and his three day old beard as he entered the room.
"Oh, look at this beauty!" he announced proudly, as if presenting his latest catch to an audience. Eyes flickering to the back, Izaya saw nothing but shapes of black against light for a moment.
Soft murmurs reached his ears and sure enough another guy entered the room. He was even uglier than the first, but his clothes alone gave away that he at least tried to pretend to be of higher standing.
Eyes judging Izaya like a farmer would a pig on the market the guy's nose scrunched in displeasure.
"What's that hair?"
Of course. It was short.
Most women owned long hair framing their face and body shape. Izaya had to look horrendous considering it barely reached past his chin.
"I heard a rumor she cut it off cuz she didn't want to get married to the king," his kidnapper quickly explained, saving Izaya the trouble of coming up with an excuse.
Bellowing laughter stemmed from the wannabe noble as he approached their latest catch.
"Understandable."
Another guy seemed to follow his master. A servant for all Izaya could tell. Eyes mustering Izaya from head to toe he seemed as amused as his lord was.
"How about it sweetie? Want to become mine instead?" the noble asked, reaching forward to tilt Izaya's chin upwards.
Hell no.
A disgusted frown raced past Izaya's expression and he brought his head forward with all force he could muster.
"What the hell-" the bastard groaned. A few droplets of blood dripped from the nose Izaya had hit head on and he glared.
"You asked for it bitch."
The servant nodded as a sadistic smile spread across his lips. He moved behind Izaya, his arms were ruthlessly yanked backwards and he hissed in a short feeling of discomfort as he was forced straight on his knees.
A knife blinked in the dim shine of the candlelight- Izaya's eyes widened-
Fuck-
He trashed against the servant's hold-
But no chance the guy was much stronger than him-
The knife set on his skin-
"Ahh-!"
Fuck-
Fuck-
Fuck-!
Slowly, as if he were savoring each second the bastard dragged the blade across Izaya's collarbone. Flesh ripped apart forcefully as the blase dug into his skin.
Blood dripped softly from the grazed line of red.
Izaya groaned- his body shook-
It hurt!
"Hoooh what a sweet voice," the sick noble chuckled as he reached for Izaya's chin once more, "Don't you want to scream for me, little whore?"
Eyes of sadism and sick enjoyment lit up as the bastard breathed those words in hot gasps.
Nausea of a different kind overwhelmed Izaya. The sick guy was enjoying this on a pleasuring level.
Swallowing hard, Izaya tried to bite down his voice as the knife set downwards to his ankle.
The pressure increased.
Izaya groaned-
Blood pooled on the ground.
Glare set in place Izaya heaved as he glanced at the bastard. But it seemed his actions couldn't have been worse as an obvious tent started to grow in the bastard's pants.
"Dang, that bastard king doesn't know what he's missing out on." A quick sign was waved towards the servant and Izaya was forced back.
Helplessly flailing, Izaya tried to free himself from the iron grip. He trashed around, tried to kick the bastard in his crotch. Instead his leg got caught and the knife settled threateningly close to Izaya's thigh.
"How about it, my lady, would you like me to show you the way to womanhood?"
Izaya froze-
No.
Fuck-
He-
He had no way of stopping the guy when his hand moved.
No way to prevent it when the guy touched his junk.
And no way to explain as his expression churned into one of utter disgust.
"What the hell-" the noble barked, jumping to his feet as though he had accidentally touched hot iron, "That's a guy!"
Both the servant and the kidnapper seemed astonished by the news.
"What?"
The kick to his face came rather unexpected as Izaya found himself spitting blood a split second later.
"You fucking idiots you got the wrong one! That bastard is a decoy!"
to be continued~
Ohohohoo
Things aren´t looking good for our dear Izaya xD Now, now, let´s increase the drama shall we? I´m searching for blood, trauma and a knight in shining armor that might just not be all that heroic xDDDDD
With that being said, I wish you a merry christmas hah
And see you next friday~!
PS.: Didn´t quite manage to get Sotd and Ast done, but they are halfway through xD so next week you can expect an update one those two as well xD