My King of Darkness (Maven x OC)

Chapter 22

*Warning: Mild gore?*
Lydia

My father always told me that violence was never the answer. I certainly agreed that the riots and mobs were a waste of time and energy. People like the Scarlet Guard, even people like Maven were trapped in an endless battle. At least Maven was trying to rise above it, stop this madness. He agreed that battles are better won through words and cleverness, not brute strength or bloodshed. Like me, he didn't want to stoop so low as to hurt another person just for the sake of hurting them.
Not most of the time at least.
Pure torture wasn't Mavens preferred method of dominance, but there was a part of him in his twisted soul that delighted in it just the same.
As so it seems in me.
I'm sorry, Papa.
The door to the study flew open. The room that had been lit by only the fireplace was now flooded with light. A silhouette stood in the doorway, "Lydia? We have them."
Maven.
He was dressed in uniform. Not the trim and polished one with the brass buttons that he put on this morning. No, this one was black and red, the Calore House colors. It was fire-retardant, the material thicker like cloth armor. Paired with leather gloves that obscured the long, gentle fingers that played the piano for me this morning.
This uniform was for fighting. This material was meant to soak up blood.
When I had explained to Maven what had happened a few hours ago, he sat me down on this couch and told me to wait there.
"You found them all?" I asked, incredulously.
Maven smirked as I stood up, "O ye of little faith."
When I reached him, I saw that he, at least for now, still had a gentle expression, "Lydia, are you sure you want to do this?"
Ben's beaten face flashed into my memory. I thought of Josephine's trembling body in my arms. I imagined Ben laying in the dark speakeasy alone, coughing up blood, staring at the stump where his hand had been.
"Yes."

Maven led me through the palace down flight after flight of stairs. The walls became thick, cold stone. I imagine it would've been freezing if it weren't for the heat coming off my fiancé. Maven did, in fact, keep eyeing me in his periphery. Finally, I tucked my hand in his. The leather gloves, I imagine, had the same purpose as the rest of the uniform: stave his fire until it was needed, focus it like a missile, but it was still sweltering in his palm.
"I'm finally getting a glimpse of what you do," I said.
Maven gave me the ghost of a smile, "What a treat."
We reached the dungeons. We had to be a few dozen feet underground. Sentinels lined the stone walls. They had seen us walk in hand in hand, and I hadn't changed into Yvonne, but these weren't the Silver elite. These were trained killers. They didn't care about politics, who was with who.
In the center of the room were seven men, lined up. Their chiseled features, sculpted muscles, and tattered clothing were meant to look intimidating, but now they were on their knees, trembling.
"I have gathered my strongest soldiers. They are at your disposal," Maven explained. He tucked his hands behind his back, "Shall we begin?"
He watched me, waiting. I then realized the men on their knees were watching me too in fear. I was in control.
I straightened up as I paced in front of them. I put on my Silver voice, purring, "Let's start with the hand. Who cut it off?"
No one answered.
I looked at Maven, questioningly. "Here," he said.
He strode behind the man on the end, ceremoniously slipping off a leather glove. Slowly he reached out his long arm, placing his palm against the mans skull and squeezing. Maven's hand glowed red and the man screamed in pain. "Answer her!" Maven demanded.
The man clenched his jaw shut against the pain trying to hold back with all his strength. The red glow rose up Maven's arm as the heat intensified and his cries grew more frantic. Finally he yelped out, "Stenson. Second from the end."
Immediately, Maven lifted his hand, now focusing on Stenson, whose eyes filled with terror. His companion on the end slumped forward giving him a silent "I'm sorry" look. But I had already crossed to the man, addressing a nearby guard, "You. His right hand. Off."
Stenson burst into, "No, no! Please!" as the Sentinel seized him, holding him down with one hand and grabbing his right wrist with the other.
"Please, don't do this!" The sleeve was pushed back.
"No, please—!" his pleading was cut short as a second Sentinel drew his sword and sliced off the hand in one smooth motion.
The first Sentinel released Stenson only for him to drop to the floor, holding his arm, wailing. The guard returned to his place as if nothing had happened, holding the bloodied sword at his side. I tore my eyes away from the scene, to see Maven had been watching my face to see my reaction. Whatever he saw, it satisfied him, because he grinned and asked, "What next?"
The soldiers Maven had brought all had different abilities. I called on them one at a time to use their abilities on different members of the gang. I ordered the first, a female shiver to slowly freeze one mans blood, until he was turned to ice from the inside out. She also turned another's arm into pure ice, which I kicked off to Mavens delight.
A magnetron tore a bar from a cell door with a wave of his hand and wrapped it around another Red, slowly crushing him. That was interesting to see! As was a telky crushing another's organs one at a time with her fist.
And finally, a strongarm tore a couple of them limb from limb.
"Impressive," Maven said, finally, as the whole gang lay dead or injured in a pool of red blood, "You've used all the Silvers at your disposal."
I ran a finger along his jaw, surveying my fiancé's sculpted features, "Not quite."
Maven eyes me hungrily, but I stepped out of his reach and gestured to the members still alive, "Show me a trick."
I watched him consider his options, the gears turning in his head. Finally, he turned to one of the guards and murmured something to him. Once the guard had disappeared, Maven slipped off his outer coat, revealing a white button-down, the sleeves of which he rolled up to his elbows. He gestured madly around the room, "You, grab him. Hold him down on his back. Hold him still."
By the time the unlucky man was in position, the guard had returned with an iron fire poker. Maven took it as if it was a silver fork handed him at the dinner table, before positioning himself above the man. "Hold open his right eye, good and tight."
My heart jumped in my throat as the guard peeled the mans eyelids apart. The exposed iris swirled around madly as the man began to panic. Maven's hands and forearms glowed red as his grip tightened on the iron, "Lighting whole people on fire is fun, but not nearly as interesting and you've seen that already."
The fire poker began to glow red under his touch. I dropped to my hands and knees beside the victim to watch as Maven sank the tip of the poker into his eye. Now, this was interesting!
As Maven brought the poker back, the eyeball went with it. "Ooh, yeah. That'll sometimes happen," he commented, lazily, over the mans screams. "Should I do the other?" he asked as I leaned over to peer into the empty socket.