During the Uprising, Valentine killed many people.
Including Bianca's parents.
She grew up with Valentine, being abused and used for her skills and tried for power only she knows she has.
Finally having enough of her, he has his lackeys beat her to...
trigger warning: abuse; physical and mental no spoiling, but you can skip the italicized IF you need to. it's just a dream from her time with Valentine
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The ache from his hand against my cheek would've brought tears to my eyes in my earlier days. "This mark is no longer worthy of anything when your entire family is dead." He told me. My eyes widened in realization when I figured what he meant. Blood spewed from my nose.
He was on one side of the room, by the hot fire burning what looked to be a black iron fire poker. I knew Valentine just wanted me for my possible powers-- that he hadn't known I already had-- and so I've been with him since I was about three years old. I was sixteen now, and I was used to the usual pain but this? This was him about to shove this red-hot poker on my bare skin.
I was on the ground from being hit so hard earlier as he tried to force my powers out of me. My ankle was broken from him torturing me but I turned over, breathing through the pain of my ankle and tried to crawl away from the monster of a man.
He came closer, after grabbing the fire poker that had been in the flames for what seemed to be the longest time, and grabbed my blonde hair to pull me back forcefully.
The intensity of it made me groan even more in pain as I now lay on my stomach. "Hold her." He ordered his Circle members.
"No. No..no no no, please, no!" I fought back, wriggling in their grasps, kicking my legs and trying every possible thing to get out of their reach.
"Hold her!" He yelled louder at them. Another member came over and forced my legs down. One was holding my waist, and two were on my shoulders. Valentine ripped the top hem of my shirt, revealing the back of my shoulder, the Circle member holding that part down, moved to my arm and I knew if I moved any harder, it would pop out of place or break. But I didn't care.
I still tried wiggling to get out of their grasp, only tiring myself out, and I was right, my arm dislocated, making me groan in discomfort. My eyes tightened close in fear. I could feel the spot on my shoulder get warmer and warmer, each second passing as I froze in fright. My heart beating faster than the speed of light in my chest.
Finally, the hot and red burning iron poker met with my lightly tanned colored skin. I could feel the flesh burning and bubbling from the heat and I screamed. The angelic mark that had been passed down in my family, usually to men, branded away.
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