Vérzavar Ház

Chapter 1: Beautiful Monstrosity

She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon.

-House of Sky and Breath, pg. 360

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, had no idea how long he'd been in this cell, with its smooth polished stone walls and stainless steel cot. No expenses spared - the epitome of comfort. As far as incarceration went it was high end, though he should likely expect nothing less from the Eternal City. From the Asteri.

The enchantment to keep prisoners' blood from staining the shining floors and walls was a particularly nice touch.

His wrists were always shackled, the Gorsian manacles siphoning so much of his healing essence and skill. The long chain wound from his wrists through a hook in the ceiling before finding its anchor outside the cell. He was relatively free to move about the space - the "bed" and the toilet were luxuries within his radius. And he could eat the food that had begun arriving to his cell far more regularly in the last few days.

But when they visited...

When the Hammer and the Hind came to his cell they would pull the chain taut, stretching his arms to that bolt in the ceiling so he could only barely support his weight through his toes on the floor. Not immobile, but relatively helpless against the onslaught of pain and torment that the two beasts were determined to unleash.

Their hands had been heavy, the interrogation harsh and agonizing. The Asteri dungeons had a reputation, and the fair haired soldiers were enthusiastic to ensure that it remained so fulfilled. Ruhn hadn't been so unfortunate as to receive the lashings with white hot metal rods that he'd heard about, but Pollux Antonius and the Hind had made sure to batter him with fists and chains and slice him open with any number of implements. Relishing the feeling and taste of his blood on their hands.

It wasn't as if they didn't have plenty of time, after all. He was fae: his body would heal time and time again, Gorsian shackles notwithstanding. The food and water would do wonders, too. And he couldn't help but wonder why, exactly, he hadn't yet been exposed to the true, nightmarish horrors that the dungeons promised to provide. It was likely a foolish hope to pray that Athalar had been as lucky as he, especially knowing his history with the Hind and the Hammer.

Fuck.

The Hind.

How could something so beautiful be so monstrous? How could that soft, gentle voice that had warmed him to his very soul turn into something so cold and callous and unfeeling? Ruhn did everything he could to keep thoughts of her from overwhelming his mind. He had been a fool, falling right into the trap she'd laid. A double agent, though not in his favor. He would not think of her as anything other than that title that she'd earned under Sandriel's command - she was not Lidia Cervos or even Agent Daybright, could not be someone he could know on a personal, intimate level. He wouldn't allow himself to recall the desperation in her voice as she'd called to him, begged him to listen. He would not acknowledge the way her words broke against the wall he'd built, the tears in her mental voice nonexistent in her cool stare.

He wouldn't think about how she often accompanied Pollux - her lover - but participated minimally in the bloodletting. She would speak hollow, haughty words, circling around the box that may be fancy for a prison, but was still far too small for three Vanir to inhabit. But, all the while, those amber eyes were empty. Ruhn would even say her gaze was distant. If she were anyone other than the spy breaker of the godsdamned Asteri, he might have even said they looked lost. But that would only fan the embers of confusion and betrayal and despair and affection into a searing, chaotic flame of emotion inside him. The questions and the conflict within him would only be a distraction, and the tattooed male knew that he would need every last iota of focus and determination just to come out of this alive.