Elsewhere [boyxboy]

*Chapter Eleven*

I sat, stewing, in the back of the carriage as we were escorted by Kinsley's men back to the Citadel, my friends and siblings sitting in uncomfortable silence around me. I knew they were glancing at one another, wondering what now, what next, and whether to chance asking.

'Nota...' Aryn mumbled after several hours, but I grunted wordlessly at her, letting her know not to interrupt my thoughts again.

I was plotting.

My thoughts were a thunderous storm in my head and I had to pick something to focus on or I knew I would go mad. I could feel the hurricane of fury raging in my chest; the complete and utter hatred towards Loki that was building inside me, looking for an outlet. I had to temper it. Nobody deserved to be on the receiving end of that except for Loki himself and I would need to put it aside, let it fester, until I could do something about it.

For now, I needed to concentrate on getting my friends and family to safety. I refused to give up hope. The situation was about as dark as it could get without adding any more death to proceedings: my siblings and I were all in captivity; the humans were in real danger of being executed; Lord Trorent was likely dead; Eppa was missing and probably dead as well; and Loki.

Loki had betrayed me in the worst possible way. I knew that underneath my simmering rage lay a broken heart; that once I'd exhausted my fury I would be left with only profound sadness. To that end, my anger wasn't going anywhere for a while and I had all the time in the world to be sad once we'd won the war.

Hours after nightfall we reached the Citadel and I noticed the others perk up at the sounds of life. Before long we pulled to a halt and sat in nervous anticipation as we waited for the doors of the carriage to be thrown open and for us to be escorted into the Fortress.

'Nota,' Aryn whispered again, more urgently this time. 'What are we supposed to do?'

'Keep calm. Tell them nothing. They won't focus on any of you; they only care about me for now.'

'Um...' Dom muttered, looking uncomfortable, and I knew what he was thinking.

'They know I Silenced you,' I told him shortly. 'They know you won't speak; they'll leave you alone.'

He nodded, biting his lip.

'What are they going to do to you?' Ana asked, looking panicked for the first time as the reality began to settle on her.

I felt my mouth set in a hard line. 'We'll find out.'

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They separated us. The humans were taken to one room, and my siblings were taken, together, to another. I knew they would be imprisoned in the royal quarters; they would be watered and fed and kept safe and warm but they wouldn't see sunlight unless Kinsley ordered it.

I was taken underground. Kinsley's men took me deep into the depths of the Fortress, where it was dank and dark and damp, and tossed me into a cell, alone, to rot.

I knew what was coming for me over the following days and weeks would be far worse than this, but I also knew that Kinsley meant for the indignity of my situation to weaken me; to undermine my tenacity. He underestimated me if he thought I would break so easily.

I ate the gruel they served me; I drank the muddy water; I slept on the cold hard stone floor and I remained stoic and silent when they questioned me. When they threatened me. When they beat me.

I kept my will to survive alive by thinking about Loki. If I broke, if I gave them what they wanted, if I relented, I would never have the satisfaction of looking him in the eyes before cutting out his heart.

Time passed slowly. I had no way of knowing what was day and what was night, no way of knowing how long I'd been there. Sometimes if felt like forever. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing that the war was still waging above ground and outside these walls. If Kinsley had won, if he had been able to use all of Loki's stolen knowledge about Lord Trorent's allies' plans to sabotage them, I wouldn't still be in a dungeon; I'd be dead. We hadn't lost yet.

Servings of gruel were deposited on the floor of my cell and once I'd eaten, a dozen of Kinsley's men would appear to restrain me so that I could be interrogated about Loki; about what we'd done; about our whole history; about the plans Lord Trorent had made before he died and the orders he'd given; about the humans; about the Threshold. And I sat, unmoved, unspeaking, until they gave up and the cycle repeated. I slept, but had no idea if I was doing it at the right time. I ate, but had no idea if I was doing it at the right time.

I had no way of knowing how the war was progressing. For as little as Kinsley's men got out of me; I got the same from them. They never mentioned the battles taking place outside the Citadel, gave no indication of whether they thought they were on the winning or losing side.

And I knew nothing of what was happening to my friends and siblings, high above me in the towers of the Fortress.

Until one day, as I sat on the floor of my cell, the door was thrown open and instead of being besieged by Kinsley's men I was instead greeted by the solemn face of somebody I hadn't expected to see again.