#recaptured

And cold.

And wet.

But Whumpee didn't care.

They were hidden.

They were alone.

They were safe.

The ruined building had been knocked over by a storm who-knows-how-long-ago, and flooded in the recent rainstorms. Located in the middle of nowhere, miles from civilization, it was the first structure Whumpee had found after escaping Whumper. 

It had been abandoned for some time.

All it offered was a little respite from the howling wind, slight shelter from the torrent of rain, through drops of water splashed around them. Whumpee crouched in an inch of muddy water, trying to conserve what little body heat they had left despite the cold water lapping at their ankles.

Their teeth chattered from the cold. Their jaw ached, a new pain to join the countless bruises inflicted at the hand of Whumper, and the cuts from the sharp tree branches Whumpee had crashed through in their mad dash for freedom.

Where would they go when the storm finally abated? Not north, that was for certain. North was where Whumper's lair was, and they would certainly have discovered Whumpee's escape by now. Whumper would be looking for them. After that, however....

South was the best bet. And perhaps west. Eventually, they would stumble across some sign of civilization, right? A road, or a hiking trail, something to navigate back to people.

Whumpee looked up at the small piece of roof that remained, supported by two cracked and crumbling walls. Someone had been here, once. Someone had built this place long ago. Perhaps a road was nearby. The previous owner needed a way to get here, after all.

Snap!

Whumpee stiffened at the sound of a tree branch breaking. It was barely audible over the rain, but unmistakable.

"Oh, Whumpee?" A singsong voice rang out from somewhere behind them. "I do enjoy the hide and seek, but it's time to come out now!"

Whumper.

Whumpee didn't think. They just ran.

Crack!

A shot rang out, an object whizzing past their leg. Whumpee flinched to the side and kept running, dodging around the pine trees, putting as many as they could between themself and Whumper.

How did they find me? How could they track me through the storm?

The questions burned at Whumpee as they ran, bare feet sliding in the freezing mud, their breath leaving clouds of fog in their wake. Meaningless questions. The 'how' didn't matter. What did matter was that Whumper found them.

Whumpee just had to lose them again.

Crack!

Another shot.

Pain tore through Whumpee's leg, and they pitched forward, slamming into the ground.

No.

They dragged themself forward desperately, their leg screaming for them to stop with white-hot agony across every nerve.

Nonononono---

"Well, this is an entertaining sight," Whumper said casually from behind them. "Valiant effort, dear Whumpee. I must say, that was a fine chase indeed."

Whumpee froze, hands clenched into fists, trying to find a way out.

"But it's time to go home now."

And worst of all, Mianu hadn’t even been inside the castle when she struck. If he had, he might have been able to stop her. And Darius might not have been lying in a crumbled, bleeding heap at her feet, pressed down on the floor by Elore’s magic. Her curse.

She had always been adept at those. And she had almost turned Mianu into the same kind of monster.

And yet, somehow, Darius was still fighting. He kept trying to get back on his feet. Kept trying to grab for his sword. But Elore’s magic was far too powerful for him. It was almost literally crushing him. Only one thing was keeping him alive.

Elore wanted it that way.

It was a game to her. A sick display. And if she didn’t get her way, the entire kingdom would be there to see it.

But for now, it was only a show for Mianu.

And Elore didn’t even know he was there.

Mianu knew his way around the palace. He had snuck into the throne room without anyone spotting him. Not even his own royal guards. But now, as he stood half-hidden behind a tapestry depicting some ancient battle or other, one person finally spotted him.

Darius struggled to rise again. And as he forced his chest off the ground, as he managed to lift up his head, his gaze landed right on Mianu.

Mianu’s heart lurched. Darius was in even worse shape than he’d thought. A thin line of blood ran from Darius’ hairline all the way down his cheek. He was covered in cuts and bruises and the horrid, far-too-familiar marks of dark magic. His eyes were marred with exhaustion and pain. But when he saw Mianu, his face lit with hope.

That hope was instantly replaced by a desperate fear. Darius’ lips moved. He didn’t make a sound. Not one that Mianu could hear. But the message was painfully clear.

No…

The silent plea echoed in Mianu’s mind. It swirled around his shattered heart.

He would not let Elore take away all that he loved.

Not again.

“ENOUGH!”

Mianu’s shout came with a burst of magic. The room grew ice cold. Shadows obscured the windows, covering the room in a shroud of darkness. Shapeless shades started to swirl around Mianu’s form, falling in line like loyal soldiers.

Elore was deeply, wholly unimpressed.

At first, she didn’t even move. And Darius’ gaze only grew more desperate. Eyes still locked on Mianu, he slowly, subtly shook his head.

“Run,” he mouthed.  “Please…”

Mianu didn’t move.

At last, Elore straightened up. She turned to face Mianu. And she smiled.

A chill shot down Mianu’s spine. His every nerve spiked into high alert. A spot by his collarbone burned with remembered pain—the same spot where Elore’s accursed “badge of honor” had once been firmly set.

He knew that smile. That smile meant trouble. Pain.

But Mianu refused to back down. He couldn’t let Darius endure the fate that he had once faced. He couldn’t let Darius become her servant. Her slave.

For that was all Mianu had once been, no matter the fancy titles that Elore had “awarded” him. No matter what false praises she heaped upon him.

“Ah, here we are,” Elore sneered. “The little prince. So good of you to finally join us.”

“Enough,” Mianu said again. “Let him go, Elore. We both know he means nothing to you.”

“But he means a great deal to you,” said Elore. “Or have you already forgotten why I gave you that scar?”

Her gaze moved pointedly to the mark above Mianu’s eye. The one that she herself had carved into him with Darius’ stolen sword. The very same sword that now lay on the floor, far out of the knight’s reach.

The thought made bile rise in Mianu’s throat. He quickly swallowed it back. He couldn’t show weakness. Not to her. Not now.

“I have no time or patience for this game,” Mianu hissed. “Let. Him. Go.”

“Perhaps I shall,” said Elore. “Or perhaps not. You claim to know that I have no use for the pathetic fallen soldier. Do you know, then, why I am here?”

Darius scrabbled at the ground. He tried to crawl forward, tried to reach Mianu. He could hardly move. And with a single snap of his fingers, another tiny burst of Elore’s magic sent Darius crashing fully back to the ground.

“Stop!” The word burst from Mianu almost of its own accord. “I’m the one you want. I’m the one who betrayed you. Leave him out of this.”

Even uttering the word betrayal left another horrible taste in his mouth. She hadn’t been the one he had betrayed. The crimes he had committed in her name had been a betrayal to Darius. One that he had never wanted to repeat.

But if it meant saving Darius’ life…

Elore’s smile crept ever so slightly wider. Mianu was viscerally reminded of a predator who had cornered its prey. Mianu’s magic flared. The shadows grew denser. His cursed arm was all sharp needles of pain, echoes of the torment that she had put him through. And yet, for all his power, for all he had accomplished when he was finally free from her thrall, he knew that he couldn’t overpower her. Not alone.

The best he could do was buy Darius some time.

“So you do know what I seek.” Elore’s voice was silky smooth. It was the exact same trap that Mianu had stumbled blindly into before. “And you know what I expect of you, my dear, wayward soldier.”

Every fiber of his being screamed against it. But Mianu forced a nod.

“No…” Darius gasped out. “Mianu, please…”

Elore waved a hand. Her dark magic curled around Darius’ throat like a noose. Darius choked.

“Let him go!” Mianu blurted out again. “Free him, let him walk away, and I will do what you ask. But if you so much as touch him again, I swear by all the gods that I will—”

His threat was broken off by Elore’s cold laugh.

“We are both well aware that you would never hope to stand up to me, let alone do any lasting damage,” she jeered. “Not without your so-called friends. And look how useful this one has been for you.”

Darius gave another soft, smothered, pitiful sound. Mianu’s fingers flexed. His magic ached to be set free, to fly right for Elore. But that would only make things worse. She was hoping for it. She was trying to rile him up, trying to get him to make a mistake.

Mianu didn’t fall for it. He didn’t even glance at Darius… but gods, he wished he could.

Elore’s smile twitched. “As stubborn as always, aren’t we? Very well, then. I shall play your little game.”

She dismissed her spells. Darius went limp. He gasped for air, coughing roughly, nearly curling into a ball on the floor. Mainu longed to run to his side. But that would only cause more trouble. So he took a single step forward. He kept his eyes locked on Elore, wary of her tricks, watching for any sudden moves. He made no effort to pull his own magic back.

“If you wish for him to live, you will call off your pathetic spells,” Elore ordered. “And you will call your guards. Tell them that you, and all who are under your command, now follow my orders.”

Darius tried to plead with him again. Mianu heard. And he hated it. He hated everything that he was about to do.

Mianu called the guards.

All he could do was stand by and watch as two soldiers hurried to help Darius to his feet. He commanded the rest to lower the weapons that were already trained on Elore. It was the only thing that would keep her from slaughtering or enchanting them all. It was a miracle she hadn’t already done so.

A miracle… or part of her plan.

Mianu never once looked away from her. No matter how badly he wanted to offer Darius some kind of comfort. Darius, who was trying his absolute hardest to break away from the guards who were trying to help him. Darius, who cried out to Mianu, his cracking voice further breaking Mianu’s heart.

And all the while, Elore smiled.

Rowena sighed, shuffling back to lean against the wall, bottle of water held loosely in her hands. "I can't do this again, Eva."

"Do what? Work for him or fight him?" Evangeline crossed her arms.

"Either? Both?" She sighed, rubbing her face. "I was just starting to have a normal life. Why-"

"Because life's not fair." Evangeline interrupted. "So suck it up and make your choice. You can try to comply with Marcus, or you can fight this. I know which one I'd choose."

"Yeah well, you never had to worry about complying, you were always the favourite. Perfect Evangeline could never do anything wrong, could she?" Evangeline stiffened almost imperceptibly and Rowena knew she'd fucked up. "Sorry. That was-"

"Urgh, don't bother. I hate pity more than I hate split ends." Rowena huffed a laugh. "Just don't pretend it's my fault you couldn't follow basic fucking rules."

"You broke the rules all the time!"

"Only the ones I knew I could get away with." Evangeline said with a smirk. "And missing curfew is miles away from refusing to complete a contract. Or run away."

Rowena winced at the memory - screaming bloody mary as Marcus dragged her down the cellar steps, leaving her there for a whole week with nothing but a few bottles of water and a bucket to piss in. Waiting for the door to open and the pain to begin.

"Shit." Evangeline interrupted her reminiscence. "Come on, let's go. I may be the perfect favourite but I don't want to keep his majesty waiting."

Rowena groaned, tilting her head back against the wall, eyes closed. Nearly every part of her was bruised from her fights with Evangeline, and it seemed every one of them decided to speak up at once. The thought of more pain - more injuries - on top of that seemed unbearable. You used to take worse pain than this. It was an uncomfortable realisation.

Evangeline coughed. "Do I have to drag you?" When Rowena made no move she started forward.

"Okay! Okay. I'm- I'm getting up, hold on."

___

To Rowena's surprise they didn't go to the training hall but instead to Marcus's study.

It would have been more suited to history professor than an internationally renown assassin were it not so spotless. Not a hint of dust on the dark panelling, every book uniform and organised by topic - even the carpet by the window wouldn't dare fade.

Marcus didn't look up from his paperwork. It was intentional; designed to make her wait for him to tell her to sit down. Fuck that. Rowena plonked herself down on the chair already positioned in front of the heavy walnut desk.

"I can come back later if you're busy." When he just kept writing, Rowena pushed the chair back slightly and put her feet on his desk as casually as possible, heart racing.

Marcus paused, grip tightening on his pen as he looked at her, only his eyes moving. Slowly, painfully slowly, he raised his head, gently placed the pen in its designated holder, and leaned back.

"There are two ways to have this conversation." His tone could have been mistaken as casual if not for the slight edge underlying it. "It is your choice where you want to continue it."

Rowena slid her feet off the desk. "I'm not going to turn you in to the police - I could, but that would require turning myself in too and I've spent enough time in prison, thanks. Not to mention the fact they're too incompetent to catch you in the first place."

"Nevertheless, you remain a security threat."

"Then kill me!" Rowena laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I've always been a failure anyway! Why do you want me back so badly?"

"I don't." Marcus was an emotionless blank slab. "Your... return was not my decision."

Rowena frowned. The only people who could overturn Marcus on something like this was the other leaders of The Organisation. Why would any of them give a shit about her? She'd only ever met two of them excluding the prick sat opposite her, and only one had shown her anything more than a passing interest.

"Which leads me onto the topic at hand. You have two choices-"

"Roll over and be a good dog or get the shit beat out of me until I die?"

"Crudely worded, but yes. If you don't comply I will use force."

"I'll come back and work for you." Marcus nodded but Rowena continued before he could interrupt. "But circumstances have changed, you can't bully me into submission anymore. And I have some conditions. The first being that you're going to answer my fucking questions."

Marcus flexed a hand, eyes boring into Rowena, daring her to admit a bluff. For the first time, Marcus gave in first. "You can ask as many questions as you want, though I cannot guarantee you'll receive any answers."

"If you don't I'll stab myself with your letter opener and bleed out on your carpet." Rowena cocked her head and grinned. It was all in the micro expressions: the slight fear that she actually would, that confirmed Marcus needed to keep her alive. "What happened when I was arrested? What exactly did you know?"

He shifted just a little, folding his hands on the table, tension releasing from his shoulders. "I received a phone call informing me of what had happened shortly after you were arrested. Evangeline was sent to trace the target and a few days later I was informed you had been sentenced to death."

Well that was new information. "I was vaguely aware of the human research facilities and negotiated a deal to have your sentence changed to life imprisonment."

"You should have let them execute me." It was him. It was all his decision. The floor threatened to swallow her up and Rowena braced her head. "Would it really have made a difference if I died in a prison or a lab? Would you have even know?"

"Initially there were plans to renegotiate your release after a year or two, but they were abandoned when you became unresponsive."

The world reeled again, but this time it wasn't from the lack of food and water. Part of it was the way he said it - so casually he could have told her it was going to rain tomorrow. Rowena forced herself to stay calm.

"How, exactly, did you know I was..." she couldn't bring herself to say the word out loud. Broken.

"I received monthly updates on your condition from Rudy Barker."

Evangeline stirred behind her, hiding her surprise with a breathy cough. She stared at Rowena for a moment before looking at Marcus and turning away.

Rowena turned back to Marcus. "I want to read them." He frowned. "The updates he sent you. I want to know what he said."

Marcus opened his mouth to object but thought better of it and nodded tersely. "I'll send you the file. You mentioned some other conditions?"

"Yes, um..." She took a deep breath, recomposing herself. "As I said, the first is transparency. Second: you will not interfere with my personal life. I'm not stupid, I can keep work separate from any socialising I do on my own time.

"Thirdly: I get a say in what contracts I do. Fourth: I want a fifty percent cut of any contracts I do take. And lastly: you will not hurt me ever again. You do not get to break my fingers, burn me, electrocute me, stab me. Ever. Again."

There was silence for a while as Marcus considered it. "Twenty percent."

"Fourty."

"Thirty."

"Done." Neither reached out to shake hands on it.

Marcus thought some more. "I will also reserve the right to use appropriate amounts of discipline in regards to your training."

Rowena leaned forward, fixing him with a hard stare.