#(i keep adding tags)

Her hands twitched, nerves betraying what her expression did not. She did not want to be here. She wanted to be anywhere but here. 

“Let go of me!” Chiar’s voice was hoarse as he struggled, pulling against the guard’s grip. Sterling didn’t have to guess why his voice sounded like that. What they did to people at Anubis’s order was no secret. 

It was guaranteed to have involved a lot of screaming.

The guard did not let go of him, but half-carried, half-dragged him across the room. 

Sterling could pick out the bruises on his arms, purple and black and ugly. Her gaze flickered to Anubis beside her. 

He leaned against the wall, eyes cold, an unlit cigarette in his hand. 

Sterling looked back at Chiar. This time, their eyes met. She could see the panic. 

Help. 

The cry may not have been verbal, but Sterling could hear it just fine. She did not move. She could not help him. She was a statue of ice and stone and she could not help him. 

Chiar looked away first. 

Sterling studied the floor. She didn’t dare to look at him again. She had the vague idea that if she did, if she saw the silent plea, she’d be sick. But her hearing was unimpaired. She could hear everything just fine. She could hear the guard dragging Chiar in front of Anubis. The shaking curses and the rattle of the chains. 

The guard kicked Chiar in the back of his knees. “Kneel.” 

Chiar knelt. He didn’t exactly have a choice. He tilted his head, peering up at Anubis, making a point of not looking at Sterling. He bared his teeth, blood staining his lips. “You know,” he said. “There’s this delightful thing called ‘not-dragging-people-into-your-apartments’. You should try it sometime.” 

Sterling paled. Of all the things to say– God. 

Anubis raised his hand, a languid gesture, his polished nails catching in the light. A gesture that meant nothing but pain for Chiar. 

The guard grabbed the back of Chiar’s head and slammed his face into the ground. Their grip moved to Chiar’s hair, tightening before yanking him back up. 

Chiar’s nose was bleeding. There were suddenly two of everything. 

Sterling’s lips parted, trying and failing to say anything. Anything at all.

The guard slammed Chiar’s face into the tiles again. And again. On the brilliant green floor, dark stains were spreading. 

Please stop.

Chiar was crying. 

Stop, don't do this cant you see you’ll kill him, just stop– 

Sterling wanted to throw up. Wanted to scream. Her eyes burned. They burned. There was no way she could forget the guard’s hand in Chiar’s hair or the blood on the tiles. She would never be able to forget the terrible sound of skin meeting stone and bone giving way. 

–Stop–

The cries had faded to silence. 

Then and only then did Anubis raise a finger. 

The guard released Chiar and he slumped forward, unconscious. 

Chiar. 

Stupid, stupid Chiar.

Anubis was talking but she couldn't, could not understand what he was saying over the roaring in her ears. 

“--Sterling?” 

She blinked. “Sorry?”

Anubis lit his cigarette. “I said, do you think the brat’s learned his place?” 

“Will you not bind your hair back for the battle?” the question was delivered with an arched eyebrow and half-teasing tone. 

    And Glorfindel answered with a bright smile, his eyes full of laughter. “I will not. Why should I deprive my enemies of this?” So saying, he pulled his helm on over his golden hair that fell shining down his back. 

    His companion sighed and pulled his own helm on. Down over dark hair, braided, and clouded eyes. 

    Glorfindel threw an arm over the elf’s shoulders. “Aii, Ecthelion, cease your worrying. No harm will befall me.”