#astrea

"If you fail me, little Camoan, I'll tie you in the corner and make you watch."

Adair had never doubted the threat, not for an instant, and those words rattled about in his head during each training session Corinthian shoved him into. He drew on them, used Corinthian's threat to drive him every time the next task seemed just out of reach. He had to do it.

For Astrea.

For himself.

For both of them.

And, as the magic crackled through his prosthesis, the scent of ozone burning through the air around him in a way that would once have left his hair standing on end, Adair reminded himself that he’d asked for this — all of it. He'd swore. He'd promised, begged on his knees, to learn. Begged to be shaped into Corinthian's tool, and pled, too, for the promised reward if he did.

His grasp on the magic faltered. He grabbed for it again and felt it slip away once more, like trying to hold water in his fingers.

"You're not even trying."

Corinthian's voice struck like a bolt from the blue, the sheer disapproval in those four words enough to make Adair's mouth go dry.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? I told you the price, little Camoan."

Corinthian turned, voice rising, calling orders to one of the crew in a language Adair didn't speak, but something about the cadence and shape of the words sounded Pyrian in his ears.

Desperately, Adair tried again to call the magic.

It wouldn't come. Like trying to capture a cloud. The magic wouldn't obey him, wouldn't come to his call, no matter how hard he tried to reach it. He'd been able to do it before, hadn't he? Was he really not trying hard enough now? How could he not be?

He was still trying when the member of the crew Corinthian had called over hooked his fingers in the collar at Adair's neck and yanked him backwards, destroying what remained of his concentration as he half dragged Adair below deck with Corinthian, imperiously, following behind.

"I'll do better," Adair begged, then tried again with his Camoan, pleading for another chance. When the words he'd been taught to say failed to so much as elicit a self-satisfied grin from Corinthian, he felt the cold hand of something that seemed suspiciously like despair grasp at his heart.

The three of them stopped outside Astrea's quarters, Corinthian's crewman binding Adair's mismatched hands together at the small of his back.

Adair refused to open his mouth for the gag, clenching his teeth and turning his head away with every ounce of defiance he still had. The crewman grumbled something, and then Corinthian's nails bit into the side of Adair's face, making him gasp. And that was all the opening needed. The thick roll of cloth was stuffed between his teeth and a knot tied so tight at the back of his head that it forced him to accept the gag just to ease the pressure in his mouth.

Corinthian reached for the door, then looked back at Adair, their eyes meeting. The sheer disappointment in Corinthian's eyes as they stared Adair down left his stomach flipping and trying to curl in upon itself.

The moment passed. Corinthian pushed open Astrea's door and gestured for the crewman to bring Adair.

"A guest for you, sweet girl."

"Adi?" The way Astrea could put confusion and surprise all on the two simple syllables of his nickname made Adair's chest ache. He locked his gaze upon hers and, as though hoping he might have manifested sudden telepathy, begged with his eyes for her to run. He knew she wouldn't. Wouldn't understand. Almost certainly wouldn't heed his urging even if she did.

Corinthian stepped between them, reaching for Astrea, drawing near, fingers caressing her cheek and speaking to Astrea in low tones, the words meant for her alone. The fawning way that Astrea turned her attention to Corinthian left Adair's stomach roiling.

The crewman dragged Adair, still struggling against his bindings, to the corner of the room where chains lay as though they'd been waiting for him. The crew member wrestled Adair to his knees and linked the first set of chains to his bound hands, yanking backwards and making the chains rattle when Adair tried again to pull away.

In the middle of that small room, Corinthian's voice rose from that soft murmur, not much, but loud enough for Adair to make out the words — spoken in clear Oracean — as Corinthian directed Astrea's gaze away from Adair, where the sound of his shackling had drawn her attention. "Don't fret about him, sweet girl. He's about to learn a valuable lesson." Corinthian patted Astrea's cheek once, twice, and then crossed to Adair, dismissing the crew member with a hand wave and a clear intention to take over the process of binding Adair.

"Remember, you brought this on yourself," Corinthian said, ratcheting all the give out of the chain hooked through Adair's collar. He glared at the pirate, wrinkling his nose and pulling back his lips as best he could to bare his teeth while the gag kept him silenced.

Corinthian's hand slid to Adair's cheek, the touch almost tender and the implication of power in that contact somehow worse than an actual slap would have been. "You know whose fault this is, don't you, little prince. It didn’t have to come to this." Then Corinthian leaned in, voice low against Adair's ear, the words whispered in a sultry husk like those of a lover, "Prove to me you still want your prize, little prince. Make me believe you."

With that, Corinthian turned to the crew member once more, uttering a curt two words and nodding towards Astrea. From the way blood had drained from Astrea's face, Adair's guess that the language had been Pyrian had to have been correct — for all the good that knowledge would do in the moment. He didn’t have to speak the language to know precisely what that command had been.

The door had scarcely closed behind Corinthian when the crew man all but lunged for Astrea, his big hands far too rough on her small frame as he pawed at her with intentions all too clear.

The chain hooked onto the collar didn't allow enough ease to turn his head away, forcing Adair to stay watching as Astrea was manhandled and fondled. Straining against his bonds, he tried in futility to yell through the gag, tried to demand that Astrea be left alone.

And when the man pinned Astrea on her stomach, hiking up her skirt to mount her roughly, and her screams reached that achingly familiar pitch? Adair couldn't try to look away. The pirate had even had the audacity to make sure to position himself and Astrea so that Adair would see Astrea's terrified face, her eyes begging for help.

Adair threw himself against his bonds, nearly choking from the pressure of the collar at his throat, screaming into the gag, his feet skidding on the floor as he tried to lever himself up against the hold of the chains.

That was Astrea.

He'd promised to protect her. He had sworn to keep her safe. And now? Anger clouded his eyes. Anger at his own failures, at Corinthian, at their whole situation, at the man defiling Astrea right in front of him.

Rage sparked in his veins.

And with the tempest of his anger came the magic.

Heat and light flashed. The air boomed and crackled with the sharp metallic scent of ozone mixed with the acrid stench of singed flesh and hair.

The man atop Astrea slumped, then collapsed on top of her, wisps of smoke rising from his suddenly still body. Astrea trembled beneath him, her breath shuddering as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Her terrified eyes met Adair's once more, and he tried again to speak, as though this time his words might get through instead of getting trapped behind the gag and emerging only as garbled, desperate sounds.

"Adi!" Astrea scrambled out from beneath the man's body, stumbling towards Adair and tripping on unsteady legs as she rushed to him. Her shaking fingers dug into the knot at the back of Adair's head, trying to pull the gag free. "Hang on, Adi," she whispered, even as Adair tried in vain to ask her if she was alright.

Knowing that she couldn't be.

After what felt an eternity, Astrea tugged the gag free and Adair worked his jaw, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before attempting to speak, the words that had been so blocked before having suddenly taken their leave.

He could only stare at her, searching her face for…something. Some assurance he knew he couldn’t find. Certain the look on Astrea's face was her doing the same to him.

At the other side of the room, the door opened once more, marking Corinthian's return.

"Highness." It was the only word Adair managed to say to her before Corinthian intervened, catching Astrea by the shoulder and pushing her away with the merest pressure.

"Away from him just now, sweet girl. I fear you'll only spoil his lesson."

Adair wished that Astrea would have put up any resistance to the command, but she merely gave him an apologetic look before moving away, leaving him to face Corinthian.

The approval on Corinthian's face left Adair's feelings in a confusing flip-flop, trapped somewhere between relief to have done well, and dread that Corinthian looked so pleased. A single, slender finger caught beneath Adair's collar, Corinthian's nail scraping delicately against the skin of Adair's throat to direct his attention upwards. "I knew you could do it, little prince," Corinthian said, voice pitched once more in that husky tone. "You've earned your prize." And, as if there had been any question as to which prize they meant, Corinthian indicated Astrea almost without turning their head, angling their forehead and pointing to her, almost, with eyes alone.

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