#iskameres

The glowing ichor that spewed from her mouth and eyes was the worst of her symptoms. Boiling hot, the liquid magic seared the inside of her mouth; it blinded her with glaring light and made the world around her hazy. No matter how much she retched up it wasn't long before more came bubbling up from her gut. 

"Young Miss, please! Please, stop fighting -!" 

Iska couldn't see, she coughed and sputtered for every breath - words were wet, blubbering impossibilities and only made the choking worse. 

Where was she? The world beyond the light-blindness was strange. Blurred faces blended into each other - a blink, and arcane glyphs fluttered in the corners of her eyes, searing foreign as negatives into her vision. 

The cold, clammy tough of a strange hand sent a shock of pinpricks up her arm, and Iska swung out wildly against it. Her nails raked across skin, but she couldn't smell the blood through another heave of thick, liquid magic. 

Where had she been last? In the slender man's basement? No - no, out in the forest - no, in town - in town with Meres, and then there were guards, and then…

A few merciful moments of breath filled her desperate lungs. 

Meres…Meres, he had been holding her, and then -

The prick of a needle stung her shoulder and Iska threw her arms out in panic. 

Her fist collided with someone's face.

"Agh - !" 

"Hold her still! Terrence, call the guards - help me - " 

More hands found her. 

No matter how she twisted and squirmed, she couldn't escape.

No - no! Not again! Not more needles! 

Meres! Where was Meres?!

Something vicious and freezing cold was injected into the side of her neck and Iska felt the cruel effects instantly. She lost control of her muscles and fell limp against the hands holding her. 

Her head felt heavy and her neck couldn't support the weight of it. Iska blinked hot tears out of her eyes, as the blue glow of magic began to subside. She coughed weakly, body convulsing and straining of its own accord. 

"Where…" she croaked, then wheezed against her muscles spasming, "...I…want…" 

"There now, she'll sleep for a time - " the voice was clearer now, though it was distant - like Iska was hearing it from down a long, crooked hallway, "- but unless she stops fighting us, we'll never be able to learn what is causing these symptoms." 

Who are you? Iska wanted to ask, but her lips - like the rest of her body - refused to work. 

Her body was laid down against a soft bed, and someone pulled a thick, quilted blanket up to her chin. But, even with her vision back, she didn't recognise any of them. Every single one was a stranger, all silk and embroidery and jewels, as they all filed out through a dark doorway and left her there alone in an unfamiliar room -

All but one. 

A handsome woman, wide-shouldered and square-jawed, with a scar that tore through the side of her face - and the only one of the strangers who wore no jewellery and who hadn't been crowding around her bedside like hungry vultures to a carcass.

Iska's eyelids hung heavy, sleep was drowning her despite her desperation to stay awake.

"Wh..ere…" Iska mumbled again.

The woman took a step closer to her, and knelt down so that she was eye-to-eye; Iska summoned every ounce of her strength. "Where…is…? I…want…"

It only took the woman a moment to parse her words. 

"The man you were with?" She asked, her voice a sturdy tenor and yet gentle. 

Iska tried to nod her head, she tried to agree, to say anything - Yes! Please! Where is he?! I want to see him! - but nothing came. Only a weak, wet groan as the last of her strength left her and medicated sleep finally won the battle. 

----

There was no peace for her, not even in her dreams - and Iska, as she jolted awake some time later, could only be grateful that the memory of them faded, even if the lingering fright and panic remained.

She sat in an ornate bed, with soft pastel-coloured drapings and a finely embroidered quilt lying heavy over her knees. The room around her was richly decorated - ugly oil paintings of some flowers in a field, a dainty vanity with colourful glass bottles and jars, a tall, arched window with expensive-looking books dog-eared and lying open.

Iska scrunched her nose; after months of sleeping on a stone floor, and weeks of sleeping in the forest, and then a simple, clean bed in the village…

The feel of the silk and brocade against her skin was unpleasant. 

The heady smell of flowers in every painted vase made her even more nauseous. 

And the nightgown she was wearing was thin and white and had little purple bows tying it at the neck and sleeves. All of it made her feel small, vulnerable. 

Voices from out in the hall made Iska flinch; she threw the quilt away from her in an instant and dropped onto unsteady legs - which carried her, wobbling, to the carved blue door of her room. 

" - have already explained, she's completely delirious, can't remember a thing!" A man's voice was saying - something deep in her stomach churned even though she knew it wasn't a voice she recognised. 

No, he's dead. It can't be him. Get it together.

"But, she's still our little girl!" A woman's voice insisted in a sickening sort of wail, "I'm sure we can get through to her if we keep trying!"

"Mother, if she attacks the doctors every time she has an episode, how will we ever get her the help she needs? She's sick! She's sick, and it's all that bastard's fault!" A male voice, a different one - younger, kind of nasal. 

The hair on the back of Iska's neck raised - she pressed closer to the door, brows knitting, as that same voice went on: 

"I tell you, I'll see him hanged! Prideful son of a bitch - he  didn't even fight back when we arrested him!" 

Iska's jaw tensed. Her heart was picking up speed. 

"Leo, please," the woman's voice pleaded, "you'll wake her up!" 

"When I tell you I beat that pitiful look off his face!" The nasal voice laughed, "I'd have sent him straight to hell if Kassandra and her little gang didn't spoil the fun!" 

Iska's heart leapt up into her throat at the same time as she threw the door open and tore into the hallway. The looks of surprise on the three blabbering strangers blurred into nothing as she leapt at the younger one - the son - and tackled him down onto the plush, woven rugs. 

"Violetta!" The old man cried. 

"Violetta!" The woman gasped

"Vio -" The son tried to shout, but Iska brought her fist crashing into his face to shut him up. 

"What did you say?! Huh?!" She screamed, beating him with her fists - weak as they were - and marring his pale, freckled face, "You fucking prick! Keep laughing! I'll kill you!" 

"Guards!" The old man yelled, "Where the devil are the guards?! She's gone insane!" 

"What did you do to him?!" Iska screeched, tearing her throat raw, "Where is he?! Where is he?!" 

The guards rushed in and pulled her off of him, but they couldn't stop her from landing one final kick to his ribs before he crawled away with a pained wail. 

"Get off me! Let go!" Iska shouted, but her body was too weak to fight against full grown men. Another guard joined the others and held onto her shoulders, while her mother looked on nervously.

A cold sweat pricked on her forehead, the tight heat of panic was pulling at her chest

"Violetta, my darling, please -!" The woman pleaded, staring down at her with wet, sad eyes, "It's me, your mother! And - oh -!"

"Take her back to bed, she's delirious," the man who must have been her father instructed, furrowing his brows, "and someone fetch the doctors back - whatever they're using isn't working, we need something stronger."

"No!" Iska barked, her hair falling wildly in her face, "No, you - let go! You're not putting anything else in me!"

Something underneath the taught harpstrings of Iska's magic was threatening to snap.

"V…Viola…" the younger man mumbled pathetically through a mouth full of blood, "I'm your brother...how could you hit me…?" 

"She didn't know what she was doing, Leo - oh, please, Dear, can't you -"

There was too much going on - Iska's head was spinning.

"Stop! I said let go!" she screamed, wrenching her arms, scratching, kicking, twisting in blind panic, "'I'll kill you! I'll - agh!"

"Get your hands off her."

The entire hallway froze. Everything went silent. 

Iska looked up, her eyes wide and breath heaving. 

The voice was familiar. And so was the face. That same tall, scarred woman from her room was now marching her way down the hall - a sheathed sword on her belt, and a black capelet over her shoulder. 

The guards hesitated for a moment, glancing between themselves.

"Captain, his Lordship has -"

"Seems like you need better training," the woman interrupted sharply, coming to a halt in front of the whole messy scene, "I gave you an order."

The guards immediately let Iska go, taking a couple steps away and standing stiffly at attention. Iska could see the sheen of sweat on their faces.

"Kassandra," her father snapped, "this is family business, it has nothing to do with -"

"I can bring him here," the woman, Kassandra, said. Not to her father, but to Iska.

Iska touched her arms, rubbing at where the guards had touched her. 

"...How?" She asked, squinting up at Kassandra and taking a careful step towards her.

"The palace jails are overflowing these days," the woman answered easily. She folded her hands behind her back and matched Iska step for step, "and the head jailer owes me a favour. I can have your man transferred to our manor's private cells."

"His name is Meres."

"Meres, then. I can have him brought here. Today, even. Is that what you want?"

Iska frowned up at her, this strange, calm woman in a too-big house full of annoying, pushy, loud, frantic strangers.

She couldn't be much older than that guy who claimed to be her brother.

"I want him to be released," she said, annoyed in an instant by how pathetic she sounded.

"That's not my jurisdiction," the woman said, "but I can bring him here. You can go down and see him whenever you want."

"Absolutely not!" Iska's father roared. "The man that kidnapped her and - and - you would bring him here?! in our home?! Never!"

Iska took another step towards Kassandra, another step away from the people who claimed to be her family.

"I'll put my best officer on him, they'll protect you while you're down there...and protect him, too." The woman said, matching her step. 

"You dare -?!" Iska's father took a heated step towards them, but faltered when Kassandra finally, briefly, met his eyes.

Iska recognised that look, that flash in the woman's warm hazel eyes. 

Hatred. Pure hatred.

But when she looked back down at Iska, the hardness melted into something softer, something near affection and maybe confusion.

"Darling, wait - " Iska's mother said, putting a soothing hand on her father's arm, "If - if this is what Violetta wants...that is, if there's even a chance...maybe it could help her?"

"Mother, you can't be serious -!" Iska's brother insisted through a stuffed, bloody nose, "We can't let him near her, he's - he's dangerous and - and -" his cries of outrage faded into the background, muffled and distant behind the ringing that had started in her ears.

She could feel an angry white hot tangle of magic in her chest pusling and pulling, sendjng a shiver of nausea up her throat. The heat was building, pushing out of her - another episode was on its way.

Iska didn't bother looking back at whatever mess of a family had claimed to be hers.

She was still watching Kassandra, hesitant, a pang of...some emotion jolting through her heart and strumming the strings of her magic.

"So, can...can you bring him here, then?" She asked, pressing her fist against the ache in her chest, "Please, I need to see him..."

For just a moment a tender expression, a gentle frown, flickered on Kassandra's face.

"I'll bring him. So go and rest. And stop fighting the doctors."

Iska swallowed back tears and the sickly nausea of whatever glowing ichor threatened to bubble up from inside her.

"I…want different doctors. No men…" 

"And you'll stop fighting?" 

Iska nodded.

Her family seemed about to interject when Kassandra stood up straight and stared them all down into flustered silence. 

"I'll…I'll see what I can do…" her father muttered bitterly. 

"If that's what you…want, then…" 

"Viola…"

But Iska had already turned away. She was trying to make it back to her room, but found her feet ungainly and clumsy under her weight. 

Kassandra offered out her arm. 

Gingerly, with an annoyed heat in her face, Iska took it - leaning heavily on the woman as she was guided back to the unfamiliar bedroom, and helped back into bed.

There was a lingering silence afterwards, punctuated by a sharp headache that throbbed in Iska's head just behind her eyes.

She wanted to say something more, to ask a thousand questions - but as soon as Iska opened her mouth a gush of boiling magic poured out of her, and the world was lost again in a blue haze. 

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[Tag List]: @chaotic-orphan @bamber344 @blxdbunni @whump-ohmy @hellodecisionparalysis

(AU in which Iska and Meres do not kill the slender man before escaping, just knocking him out instead. This will prove to be a very big mistake. Also perhaps taking some creative liberties with the magic system but shhhhhh)

Iska and Meres trudged barefoot along the dirt path leading away from the slender man’s manor, feet stinging and legs aching. Despite their fatigue from hours of walking, they didn’t stop for even a moment. Iska wasn’t sure that the man really died when she hit him with that bottle, and she sure wasn’t going to risk taking it slow in case he sent soldiers after them. If only she stayed back for a few minutes to make sure…

But it was too late now. They had to press on.

“Ngh…”

Iska frowned, looking back over her shoulder at her companion. “Meres? Are you alright?”

Meres had stopped moving. He was clutching at his head like it might blow apart if he let go, fingers buried in his pale hair, eyes squeezed shut. “N-no… I won’t…”

Iska ran up to him, putting a hand on his cheek. His skin was clammy, and blood was starting to seep from his nose. “Meres, what’s wrong?!”

He jerked, back arching, before letting out an ear-piercing howl of a scream up towards the sky, so loud it vibrated through Iska’s very bones. Meres fell to his knees, leaning forward and slamming his head into the dirt.

“NO! N-NO! PLEASE!”

Iska’s hands shook. Her stomach dropped. There was only one explanation for this.

The enchantment magic; it still had a hold. The slender man was still alive, and he wanted his property back.

She rushed to Meres’ side, holding him. “Fight it, Meres! You already did it once! You don’t belong to him, or to anyone! Don’t let him take you again!”

Meres twitched, his body convulsing as the fight for control overloaded his nerves. Iska wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. She couldn’t do this without him. She… She needed him.

All of a sudden, it all stopped. The twitching, the pained grunting, the whines; all replaced by the rise and fall of heavy breaths. It was over.

But… who won?

“I… I’m so sorry, Iska. I’m too weak.”

Iska froze.

No…

Meres lifted his head. Iska looked into his eyes, welling up with tears.

The slender man won.

His hand darted out before she could even consider running, wrapping around her wrist in a vice grip.

“No!” she shouted, thrashing futilely against him, trying to wrench his fingers off. “Meres, stop! Y-you’re hurting me!”

Iska kicked and punched and bit and scratched, fighting like a wild animal, but nothing could get Meres to ease his bruising hold on her. Tears and blood trailed down his face, dripping onto her as he pulled her closer, and for a moment she paused, realising just how much pain he must have been in. Was she really just going to abandon him to it?

Did she have another choice?

All of a sudden, Meres threw her, pulling her suddenly enough that she tripped up and landed face-first in the dirt. Hope lit up in her chest. Had he broken free again?

That hope was quickly shattered as Meres stomped on her knee with all his weight. Iska screamed, pain radiating up her leg as he twisted his foot, grinding her kneecap into the rough ground. She heard more than saw him kneel down, and felt his foot move a little lower down her leg, to her upper calf. Two massive hands closed around her ankle and Meres started wrenching upwards. Iska shrieked.

“MERES! MERES, STOP! STOP, IT HURTS!”

Her shin felt like it was about to split in two. The creaking of her bone reverberated all the way up her leg. She grabbed a fistful of dirt and squeezed her eyes shut, realising there was no escaping the oncoming pain.

Snap!

Pain didn’t even begin to describe it. The agony was overwhelming. Darkness flickered across Iska’s vision as a high-pitched scream rang through her ears. She sobbed, hiding her face against the dirt as Meres let her go; the man in his head surely knowing there was no way she could flee anymore.

“C-come on, Iska… We have to go home now.” 

His voice was shaky and mournful. A mixture of grief and rage swirled in Iska’s belly. Why couldn’t he be strong enough?! Now neither of them had any chance of escape. She was going to spend the rest of her life in the slender man’s basement, slowly losing herself until she became nothing more than another puppet for him to order around. There was no fight left in her. She was done.

Meres scooped her up off the ground and bundled her against his chest. She cried out as her injured leg was aggravated and put up a token struggle, but there was no point.

It was over.

—

Iska groaned, spitting loose teeth and blood out of her mouth and onto the cold floor of the slender man’s dungeon. Her arms were chained to a post behind her; the metal of the shackles biting into her wrists. Meres was there. Somewhere. Iska wasn’t too compelled to search for him, knowing that opening her eyes meant accepting the reality that she was right back where she started. He was probably listlessly staring at the floor, too cowardly to look at her and witness the consequences of his actions made manifest.

At least the beating she was receiving distracted from the pain of her broken leg. If one could call that a consolation.

“Oh, those were your teeth, weren’t they?” the slender man’s slimy voice echoed through the space and into her head.

A cold hand closed around her chin and tugged her head up. Iska cracked her bruise-swollen eyelids open to look the man in the eye. His forehead was covered in stitches from the bottle she’d smashed across his face, and there was a distinct cloudy quality to his eyes – no doubt from a concussion. Clearly, it hadn’t hampered him enough to dull the force of his strikes.

His thumb traced along her jawline, a soft and gentle juxtaposition to the pain he’d been inflicting upon her. “Poor, poor Iska. Your beautiful smile is all broken now.” He hummed, squeezing her cheeks and putting pressure on her ruined gums. She cried out, tears burning down her face. “It’s no less than you deserve, for what you did to me, but it’s far from the last punishment you’ll receive. You will understand that there is no escape from your life’s purpose. You will understand that you are worth nothing, and your only solace will be knowing that your place is to be owned by me. Get used to it.”

“F-fuck you!” she rasped.

He let go of her face and stepped back, only to send a lashing kick straight at her nose. Her head snapped backwards as pain blossomed through her sinuses, filling her eyes with blinding tears. All she could do was sink to the ground and do her best to remember to breathe through her mouth as blood spilled from her nostrils.

“We’ll see how that attitude holds after a week in the experimentation room. Meres, come. It’s your turn.”

With that, he turned and strolled out of the room, Meres following at his heel like the dog he was.

It was all his fault. It was his weakness that trapped them here again. Iska would have to go back to that horrible room again, and it was all because of him.

No…

It was her own damn fault. Her impatience. Her need to flee. If only she’d made sure the man was dead.

As the sound of Meres’ screams began to echo throughout the dungeon, Iska closed her eyes and cried.

—

Iska was sleeping. That, or she’d succumbed to her injuries on the cold, hard floor. Meres couldn’t decide which one was worse. At least if she passed, she wouldn’t have to still be here, suffering because of him.

He winced at a particularly scathing throb of one of the lacerations on his back; the slender man’s brutal handiwork. Just another reminder of his own weakness, and what he’d subjected both himself and Iska to for the foreseeable future. Iska would be going into the experimentation room again tomorrow. Would there be another chance now? Would he be able to break free again, before it was too late and Iska lost herself too? It was hard to know.

He slowly stumbled over to her limp form, kneeling down and brushing some hair out of her bruised face.

“I… I- I’m so, so sorry, Iska. I failed you.”

Her eyes cracked open, staring up at him glassily. She reached out, weakly wrapping her delicate fingers around his thumb. 

“M- Meres… p-please, stay.”

Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out again.

Meres grit his teeth, holding back tears. “Don’t worry, Iska. I won’t leave you.”

He settled down on the ground next to her, still keeping hold of her hand.

“No matter what, I’ll stay with you.”

Taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @thataquaticwhumper

@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue @lettherebepain

@bacillusinfection

"Disciplining mages is quite tiring," the slender man sighed.

She watched with watery eyes through a wet curtain of hair, as the slender man handed the bucket back, not bothering to look, at the scruffy man behind him.

"Please...I - I don't know what you want from me...I don't understa -"

Another bucket of water hit her with the weight of a fist; her body jolted, and she gasped for breath, coughing and groaning.

"Hot water next, I think, Meres."

"Yes, my lord."

So his name was 'Meres'. She knew from the pronunciation it was a word in the ancient language, the word for 'dog'.

The scruffy man - rather, Meres - was conjuring water into the buckets, and he hadn't once made eye-contact with her. Neither, she noticed, had he dared to look up at the slender man.

"I - I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is!" She yelled, bracing herself for the heat of the water - which burned through her, hotter because her body was already so cold.

"Cold."

"Yes, my lord."

"Please - please st - stop - ah -!" she was interrupted by the cold water, and the painful gasp she couldn't avoid. Her body was overcome by shivers, and the wet ropes bit into the soft of her inner arms, "- stop! Stop - p - please!!"

"Meres, you know, I think I've finally decided on a name for this one. Would you like to know it? Cold, again."

"Yes, my lord." He handed the bucket across, and for the barest of moments, she caught him glancing up at her.

"Iska," he threw another bucket, "It's quite fitting, isn't it? After all, she sings so sweetly when I'm teaching her manners. Hot this time."

"Iska..." Meres repeated.

Iska. It was also the ancient language. It meant 'bird'.

She tried to catch her breath, but each one was shallow and desperate, her heart was beating too fast for her to match the pace. It was the injustice that was the hardest part.

It wasn't even pride.

Or maybe it was - if fury at being treated unjustly was pride, in the end. It ate her up inside, a pressure in her chest that threatened to burst.

"I'm not an animal!" She screamed, tearing up her raw throat, "I'm a human! I'm - I'm - I have a name...you can't..."

The slender man sighed, a short, sharp sound.

Meres handed him the bucket of water, which steamed hot.

"Where in the world do these mages find the gall? Now I have to teach you your name? Very well, repeat after me: My name is Iska."

He threw the bucket of hot water over her, and it burned cold as it dripped over the half-healed wounds on her back.

She stared up at him, her lips pressed together.

"Make it hotter, Meres."

"Yes, my lord."

The water hit her hard, knocking her head back against the beam behind her - so hot it scalded. She struggled wildly, curling against the burning, but - despite the trembling of her chin, and the tears in her eyes - still, she refused to speak.

"Hotter."

"...Y - yes, my lord."

There was no bracing herself for it, it burned cold as if she'd been covered in magma instead of water, and she screamed.

"I - I'm sorry!" Her voice was a weak croak, her eyes wide and staring down at the floor - which shone wet, reflecting her own sad image back at her, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

"Hm..." the slender man paused, "then, tell me your name."

"...I - Iska..." she whispered.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, gesturing to Meres.

"Cold, this time. Just for good measure."

"No - no please! I'm - I'm sorry -!"

The cold water burned worse than the hot, and made her inhale so sharply that she choked on her own breath. Her throat was on fire, tears mixed with the water that dripped down her face.

She hadn't even noticed the slender man approaching her until he'd grabbed a fist-full of her hair and pulled her head up, looking into her eye, appraising and cruel.

"Your name?"

"I - Iska...my name is Iska..."

He let go of her hair, and gently stroked her cheek. "Must you always make me teach you the hard way? That temper of yours will cost you dearly. Do you understand, sweet Iska?"

"...Y...yes...my lord..."

"You're finally learning. Leave her there for a while - " this, to Meres, who was cleaning up the buckets, " - just to make sure the lesson sticks this time."

Iska went slack against the ropes, her head drooping between her shoulders and eyes closing. Her body trembled, but at least it didn't hurt anymore.

Name, pride, it didn't matter...she couldn't take it...she was so tired...so tired...

The weight of the slender man's legs as they crossed at the ankles and rested on Meres' shoulder was nothing compared to the intense pressure he felt under his master's cold gaze.

How long had it been since he'd been punished?

The moments where he found himself on his knees begging for forgiveness were few and far between in the last few years.

Since he was broken in, Meres had always been a good dog.

No matter what the order was, no matter how fraught his sleep was with the nightmares of things he'd been forced to do, he had done them without questioning.

"Meres." The slender man spat his name like an insult.

"F - forgive me, my lord, I -"

"I asked what you did wrong. I'm waiting for your answer."

"Ah, forgive me, I - I -" Meres hesitated, because the answer wasn't exactly as clear as he thought it was. Should he just apologise for everything all at once? Surely the punishment would be easier if he just got it all out and admitted his mistakes.

The slender man sighed, nudging his head with the side of a shoe.

"You've never been the brightest dog, but must I really repeat myself a third time? Don't you know you shouldn't do things you'll have to ask forgiveness for in the first place?"

"Y - yes, of course, my lord...I - I have been hesitant in following your orders. And - and I've been too familiar with your possessions. And - "

The slender man interrupted him with a kick to the face.

It was the shock of pain rather than the force of it that knocked him, unbalanced, onto his back. Hot blood streamed from his nose and he coughed on it.

With a heavy sigh, the slender man stood up, and put pressure against one of his legs with the flat of his shoe, straining the muscle. Meres grimaced against the pain, but dare not utter a sound.

"Usually I wouldn't care about a neutered dog playing with some wild bird, but it seems like that filthy thing is a bad influence on you."

"A - a bad -?" Meres coughed, "No, she - Iska isn't -"

"Don't you know how cunning a mage is, Meres?" The slender man's tone softened, "they will say and do anything for their own benefit. Did you suppose breaking the tether I have on you would win her over? That the two of you might run off to a happily ever after?"

Meres didn't dare meet the man's eyes.

It was true that he'd been trying to fight against the enchantment.

Iska had said only the weak-willed could be controlled. She...had believed in him, that he could fight it. The arcane mind control that sometimes blinded him and caused him to lose hours, days at a time in a haze -

He had thought if he could break it, maybe...maybe they could...together...

But the slender man knew, he always knew. There was no escaping him.

"Forgive me, my lord...it - it wasn't because of her, I - I get headaches...that's the only reason..."

Meres did his best, but the fear made his voice break. It felt impossible to craft any kind of lie in front of his master.

"You poor, sad beast..." the slender man sighed, "I can see that mage has truly gotten her talons into you."

"N - no, my lord, it isn't like that - I - I only - aagh!"

The slender man gripped Meres' face tightly, his palm flat against Meres' eyes and fingers pressing painfully against his temples.

"Listen to me well, Meres. Are you listening?" The slender man tightened his grasp and caused a shooting pain to rocket through Meres' head.

"Agh - y - yes, I - I'm listening my lord -"

"There is nothing for you in the world except serving me. What would you be without me? I gave you what pittance of magic you were able to absorb. I gave you a purpose. You were nothing when I found you, and you'll be nothing again if you ever were to leave."

The slender man's words rang and echoed strangely in his head, humming almost like a song, tolling low like a bell.

Meres clenched his teeth against it, but with his eyes forced closed there was nothing he could do to distract himself from it.

"That mage's very blood flows pure with mana, she is a mage the likes of which you could never begin to imagine. Even when I break her, she will still be more than a pathetic mutt like you."

The slender man was right. Meres was nothing. Not strong enough to defend himself. Not strong enough to break the mind control. Only as good as his strength. Nothing...nothing...

"A powerful mage..." Meres mumbled, feeling a strange numbness in his fingers, "Iska is..."

Iska...Iska...the name echoed again and again in his mind.

Somewhere, swimming in the fog, like a weak flickering light against a darkness, he found her face. The soft of her lips, the brush of her fingers, her sharp eyes and her voice like a melody when it called his name.

"Poor Meres," the slender man said gently, "so strong of body, yet so weak of mind..."

"Yes...I - I am weak. Forgive me, my lord...I never meant to..."

The slender man slowly pulled his hand away, but Meres kept his eyes closed. He wanted to keep the image of Iska in his mind for as long as he could.

The only light he had ever known in this cold, dark place.

"Retire to your room. I am busy now, your punishment will come later."

"Yes, my lord..."

Meres stood, his legs aching. He finally opened his eyes, wincing against the pale white light of day filtering in through the curtains.

He could feel the beat of his own heart, not racing, but drumming a steady march. Maybe...when he told Iska how he'd been fighting against the enchantment...

Maybe she would reach out to him, touch his face gently.

And if they could...somehow...leave this place...

Even if he became nothing, as long as he was by her side...

Then maybe some day he could see her smile at him.

And that would be enough.

Her arms and wrists tensed against the leather restraints, pulling them tight as a bowstring as she struggled wildly on bruised and painful knees.

Crack!

The whip tore through the skin on her exposed back, jolting her strained posture.

Crack!

Another scream, her throat was raw and she shivered against the feeling of trickling blood, which soaked the back of her dress.

And then there was a pause.

Her entire body went slack with a pained groan, trembling violently, every inch of her throbbing and stinging.

How many lashes had it been...how long had she been hanging there...? Her head lolled, consciousness slightly fuzzy as the room swam in and out of focus.

"Hm." The slender man's footsteps tapped against the floor, distant and echoic, until his shadow fell over her and she flinched.

"N - no-" she wheezed.

"Oh? How rare, did you find your voice at last?" He gently raised her chin with the hard handle of the whip - her tears rolled over its cool leather.

"Please...please, no more...I - I -"

"Shh, there now. What a pretty voice you have. Does it hurt terribly?"

"...It hurts...it -" she choked on a sob, and the rest was lost.

"Yes, I imagine so," the slender man mused, "but what to do, we're only halfway done."

"No! Please - please! Ahh - " she struggled against her binds, the skin around her wrists bruised and chafed, burning cold, "I don't - I don't understand! Why?! I didn't do any - thing wrong!"

The whip fell away from her face, and she felt the slender man's hand in her hair the instant before he forced her head down, down as far as it could go, straining her arms and shoulders taut.

"Such a shame. Most of the mages I've disciplined have learned quite quickly. You're lagging behind, you know. Still so much insolence."

He sighed, and then stood up from the casual kneel in front of her.

"Well, never mind," he said over the sound of the whip dragging along the floor, and the tap tap tap of his shoes, "brace yourself, now, I imagine this will hurt too."

Iska aimed her nervous glare at the ground as her wrists were bound on the other side of a wooden beam. The skirt of her dress had been pulled up to reveal her calves, which left no mystery to what kind of pain she would be enduring.

"I..I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I - "

"Will you stop apologising, Meres? You're seriously pissing me off."

"Ah - yeah, s - sorry - I mean - ah -"

Meres fumbled over his words, today more than usual, but she didn't bother helping him. Why should she be magnanimous to the man helping his master torture her? What did it matter that he was sorry about it?

If he wasn't going to stop, then he shouldn't apologise at all.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Iska finally asked.

"Just - wanted to let you know. About the - you said it was enchantment magic. I've been trying. Trying to break it."

Iska's head shot up from where she'd been resting it against the beam, and she stared into Meres' eyes - surprising him.

She could still see it, the faint glow of magic behind the honey brown of his eyes. But, trying was better than outright refusal. Is that why he seemed so nervous?

"It's hard, isn't it?" She said after a long silent moment.

"...Yeah, it's hard," Meres agreed.

"Like trying to wake yourself up from a dream you didn't even know you were having. Like trying to catch a shadow always lingering in the corner of your eye."

Iska didn't remember where she'd heard that from, but it was in her mind as easily as recalling how to breathe.

"He...he found out..." Meres whispered.

Iska hesitated. A spell of that magnitude would definitely alert the caster if it was failing, so it's not like it was a surprise...

"It's okay," she said, flinching as she found her fingers brushing against his hand while he secured her binds. But instead of pulling her hand away, she grabbed hold of his hand tightly.

If for no other reason than to stop her own from trembling.

"I - Iska..."

"It's okay, Meres. No matter what happens, you have to keep trying."

"Iska, I -"

He was interrupted by the door opening, and Iska pulled her hand away quickly, her shoulders setting and her body tensing in an instant.

The slender man hummed approvingly as he crossed the room, but Iska bit back the heated comments that popped into her head. Anger drummed in her ears, but the threat of the experimentation room still hung over her like an ominous cloud.

It was too recent a memory to risk lashing out and ending up there again, but fighting her own temper sometimes felt like fighting the ticking of a clock. Eventually, no matter what, it would always strike midnight.

"Here, take this, Meres," she heard the slender man say behind her.

"M - my lord?"

"As slow as ever. You are still due your punishment."

Iska tried to strain over her shoulder to see the two of them, but they were just out of her eyeline. What did he mean punishment? Was Meres going to be tortured too?

She didn't want to hear him screaming and crying any more than she wanted to hear herself do it. If he had more courage, Meres could tear the slender man apart limb from limb before he ever laid a hand on him.

"I...I - I ..." Meres stuttered, grunting as whatever it was he didnt want to take was shoved into his hands.

"Yes, you. This is how you discipline children when they are misbehaving, you take a dried reed to the back of their legs. I think two-hundred should be sufficient."

"Two...two-hundred?"

Iska could hear the dread in his voice, because the same sense of dread was washing over her, too. It wouldn't be as bad as whipping, surely. And no matter what, it wouldn't be as bad as those three days of being experimented on. She could endure it.

"Why don't we have Iska count them out?" The slender man suggested, "Did you hear, Iska? Make sure not to lose the count, or we'll have to start from the beginning again. The same if don't stand up properly for it."

She gritted her teeth, a headache coming on from how hard her forehead was pressed against the wooden beam. So frustrating! No, she had to keep her head! Agh, but what was she supposed to do in this scenario?! It was so hopelessly infuriating!!

"Iska, I asked you a question." The slender man snapped.

"Yes, I heard you - you fucking cunt!"

There was a long, agonising moment of silence.

Stupid! Stupid! Her temper would get her killed one day!

Finally, the slender man spoke. Not to her but to Meres - in a voice that was low, and so poisonous it could kill.

"Make it three-hundred. And you beat her hard, Meres, or I assure you I will beat her harder."

Iska held her breath.

The first strike was the worst.

A sharp line of pain that bit into her calf, and hurt worse because it took her by surprise. She let out a long, trembling groan, and said:

"One..."

Whack!

"Two..."

Whack!

"Th - three..."

Meres and his damn strength. Each whip of the reed sent a jolt of pain up her legs, and made the flats of her feet sore just from having to keep upright through it. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her counting faded from indignant mutters to choked sobs.

But she didn't lose the count.

And she didn't lose her footing, until she finally reached 'three-hundred' with a barely-there whimper, and sank to her knees with sob of relief. Her whole body trembled, and her legs were on fire with stinging stripes of pain from just under her knee all the way to her ankles.

"Very good, Meres," the slender man said once it was done, "now go stand her up again. Bind her ankles nice and tight so she doesn't fall."

"Wh - what...?!" Iska cried, "What?! But I -! I - I did what you asked, th - three hundred, you said -!"

"Three hundred lashes was Meres' punishment," the slender man sighed, "now it's time for yours."

"No! No - please, no more I - !"

Her arguments dissolved into panicked sobs.

Like a husk, Meres moved around her, pulling her back up onto her feet with little care for her wounds. She struggled and pulled against him, but as always, he proved too strong. He bound her ankles and knees against the beam, and then disappeared from her view.

"Start again from the top, Iska. I haven't decided how many yet, so make sure not to lose the count."

"Bastard..." Iska sobbed, "you bastard!"

The first of his strikes caused her to scream, and each one after it, too. Some of the lashes caught her right in the divot behind her knees, or on the side of the ankle near the bone.

There was a taste of bile in her mouth, and blood from where she'd bitten her tongue. A cold sweat wet her hair against her forehead and neck. The lantern lights glared in her eyes, sore from crying.

Meres was nowhere to be seen.

And Iska kept count.

He was awkwardly aware of how rough his hands were, touching her soft skin and holding her as gently as he could - like a fragile animal, a slender bird who could come apart any moment.

"But you're not, huh?" He muttered, "Gotta be made of stronger stuff than that, putting up such a fight...."

A shiver went up his spine. The echoes of her sobbing screams played on loop in the back of his head; it'd been a while since he saw someone take a cane so well.

"Why...?" he asked to the silent room, to the limp, pale figure in his arms, "why fight? It's so much easier...just to give in..."

The girl stirred, with a broken, hoarse moan, and he startled.

Would she be afraid of him? He should have just left her on the bed like he was supposed to. No other mage prisoner had ever made him...feel this way.

She slowly turned her head to look up at him, her whole body trembling with the effort.

Not a word, not one single word had she said to anyone since the day she'd been taken, but her pink lips - swollen at the corner where dried blood had stained them black - opened, and in a whisper, barely above a breath, she said:

"Please....no more...."

He blinked.

"No, no, I'm not - I won't - " He tried to say, but she was already gone again. Her head fell against his chest, and she was still.

Better that way, so that she couldn't hear the racing of his heart.