How Could an Angel Break My Heart?
Characters: Kaidan x Kimiya (Original Character)
Summary: Even in the depths and throes of despair, she's always there in the back of his mind.
Warnings: The Thalmor, Graphic depictions of violence, Kaidan getting tortured :(
the main character is a redguard woman (she's black y'all). while i describe her in detail please feel free to envision her however you'd like.
almost done with the short chapters i promise!
⋆｡‧˚ʚChapter 1, Chapter 3 ɞ˚‧｡⋆
The soft scratches of a quill on parchment bounced off the wooden walls of the room they were in. Periodically the sounds would come to a halt, as the red eyed man looked over his shoulder towards the lump in the bed behind him. His eyes rolling over the figure nuzzled into the bed, the sheets under their arm and lightly draped over their curves. Her curly hair sprawled over the white pillow beneath their head. It was a sight that he could gaze at for the rest of his life, but he couldn’t. Kaidan tore his eyes away and forced them back onto the letter he was writing.
He finished the sentence with a period, pressing into the parchment for a prolonged amount of time dreading finishing the letter. But he had to at one point, pulling the quill away was torture. It signified the beginning of a journey he was taking, alone.
With shaky hands he gingerly placed the folded parchment on the pillow next to her head. It took everything he had to not gently stroke her cheek. So he willed himself to grab his pack and walk away. As he crossed the threshold of the room towards the rest of the inn, he looked back as he closed the door.
Kaidan’s eyes snapped open at the stinging feeling of a fist striking his face. The sudden violent action pulled him out of his surprisingly deep sleep, also causing him to bite into his cheek. A heavy metallic taste filled his mouth. His crimson eyes cut back towards the perpetrator, practically bleeding them out with a glare alone. Too bad that wasn’t possible, so he settled for imagining it, though that did little to quell the growing rage in his belly.
He had no idea what time it was, or what day it was, or how long he’d been trapped inside this god forsaken prison cell. His captors never gave him the opportunity to find some sort of schedule, some sort of way to figure out what time it was. The elves coming in at random points to torture information he didn’t even know out of him.
“You know, if you tell us the truth we will set you free.” The Thalmor Justiciar spoke tauntingly as he loomed over Kaidan’s crouching form. It wasn’t the first time they whispered these false promises in his ears, coaxing and tempting him. But he knew, not an ounce of remorse or empathy ran through these men’s veins. Due to that knowledge Kaidan remained silent, opting for a hateful glare. The blood in his mouth gathered at the center. Before the Altmer had a chance to react, Kaidan shot a glob of blood and spit at his face.
Kaidan’s torturer recoiled, his face twisted in disgust and fury. A gloved hand came up to his face to wipe off the spit.
“You know,” He taunts, “Someday I’ll watch you choke on your own blood.” Kaidan growls out, his voice hoarse as he hadn’t spoken to anyone in several hours.
The Altmer’s fist collided with the side of Kaidan’ bruised and battered cheek, only adding to the severity of his accumulation of wounds. Kaidan attempts to hold in a grunt from the force and pain of the punch, ultimately failing.
The Justiciar signals to the two Thalmor soldiers situated outside the dank and damp cell. Without a reply both soldiers enter, their faces blank, but their eyes dark and void of compassion. The Justiciar steps back looking down at Kaidan with a smug grin on his face.
“Perhaps another whipping will quell this defiant spirit of yours.”
The sound of his arm restraints clinking open didn’t completely register before both soldiers were dragging him to the center of the cell.
Kaidan struggled against their tight grip, suddenly he was able to free one of his arms from their grip. Without wasting a second, using all the strength he had left in his reserves, he shoves the soldier who was holding his other arm. The soldier was caught by surprise for a moment, stumbling slightly, and accidentally letting go of his arm. Kaidan takes this moment to shoulder charge the same soldier before he could recoup. The soldier falls flat on his back with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him.
Kaidan veers to see the other soldier’s fist flying towards his face, he quickly moves his head out of the way in the knick of time. Using the same maneuver he lunges his shoulder into the other soldier's abdomen, compromising his center of balance. The other soldier topples backwards. Kaidan stands over him for a moment about come down with another attack, until he felt the cold hard metal of an armored fist strike the back of his head. Kaidan grunts and stumbles, his knees hitting the damp ground. He falls on his hands, his wet black locs falling around his face as the word around him grew blurry and the sound of ringing filled his ears.
He feels his arms being restricted once more, but all the energy he had left was gone, he spent the last of it. As his vision returned he watched the justiciar step around him, his face eerily calm despite the commotion.
“Now that your insubordination has been taken care of for the time being…”
The quick sharp lash of a whip came crashing down on Kaidan’s back. His muscles tense as he grimaces, again doing his best to not give them a reaction. Until another lash struck his back, this one instead reopening one of his previous wounds that one of the Thalmor agents had shittily stitched up. Kaidan groaned in pain, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. The admittance of pain emboldened the justiciar, his lashes becoming more fierce and vigorous, but never sloppy.
This time Kaidan couldn’t hold back his screams. Each and every hit opened up old wounds that never got a chance to heal. His mind couldn’t help but drift despite the pain, maybe it was his brain’s way of protecting him, maybe she was the only thing on his mind as he slipped from consciousness. Who cares, all that mattered was that she wasn’t here to experience the same pain.
But was she safe, was she okay? Does she still smile the same way? Does she still moisturize her hair and braid it down every night? Does she still need help braiding the middle two braids?
The last thing on his mind before collapsing were those soft coily tresses, and her deep brown eyes.
