#sleeping potion

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Despite his best efforts, Owynn is no closer to learning what the King wants from Myrie or why she won't give in even under the most brutal torture he has ever seen. Ecker keeps a book, thick and bound in leather, the pages filled with notes and sketches. Owynn has yet to get a proper look, but what he has glimpsed does not bode well for the fairy.

When he finally works up the courage to ask his commander, the answer is so mundane it makes him even more confused.

"The King only wishes to open up old trade routes," Sir Gavyn explains. "It is not in violation of the treaty, and he believes our kingdoms have much to offer each other. He planned to go discuss this with the Fairy Queen, but her willful daughter seems to think we mean to bring them harm. She will not agree to arrange a meeting."

Owynn's brow furrows. He knows little about trade or treaties, but a meeting to discuss such things would not be such a bad thing, would it? Her resistance seems extreme, but then, so does torturing a princess in response. There must be something he is missing, or something he simply doesn't understand.

Do you mean to bring them harm?

The thought comes unbidden and he is immediately appalled at himself for even thinking it. Of course they don't.

"And...why must the torture be so severe?"

"Fairies are not as fragile as they may seem. They are quite powerful, in fact, and as such they require more powerful means of persuasion." He nods towards the door. "Go on, now. Stop asking questions and get to your station."

"Yes, Sir."

-

He intends to ask Myrie about what he learned, hoping it will somehow make sense. But when he arrives, Ecker is already there, standing over the princess. She is on her knees, hunched over and cradling her hands to her chest. Sobbing.

Ecker grabs her by the arms, trying to pry them open. The fairy resists, crying out, "please, no!" and trying to squirm free of his grip. It's useless, and Ecker pulls her up onto her feet again, holding her arms out. Only then can Owynn see what he has done. Every one of Myrie's fingers is broken, as well as both of her wrists. Her swollen hands twitch. Owynn can't help but flinch; he once broke two fingers when training with his sword and it was horrid. He cannot imagine the pain she is in.

"Well, boy, don't just stand there. Get over here. You might learn something."

Owynn moves closer, remaining a few feet behind Ecker. Myrie glances up, her face the picture of misery. Each breath she takes is a hiccupping sob. Her legs tremble like they might give out at any moment. "It-" hic "h-hurts-" hic. One of her hands gives a sharp twitch and a shudder runs through her body. She whimpers, head drooping forward so that her hair conceals her face.

"I prefer to face opponents who can defend themselves," Owynn says, bitterness seeping into his voice. "A knight does not inflict violence on innocents." Even as he says it he knows it to be untrue, for Sir Gavyn has never hesitated to harm Myrie.

Ecker chuckles. "You disapprove of what I do. I have seen it since the beginning. But I fill a vital role. For knights and nobles to hold such lofty ideals, for kings and queens to keep their hands clean, men like me must exist." As he speaks he lifts Myrie's arms out to her sides, pulling them taut past the point of mere discomfort. The princess whines. Her legs finally buckle but she is held aloft by the man's tight grip.

"Do you feel no pity?" Owynn demands. He wouldn't dare speak this way around Sir Gavyn, and knows there is a risk word will get back to his commander.

At that, to his surprise, Ecker stops pulling, momentarily easing the strain on the fairy's arms. She gasps for air, visibly relieved.

"I am not heartless. It may surprise you to know I have family who I love deeply. I feed the birds outside my window and toss coins to children in the streets. You will learn, in time, that you must reserve your pity for those deserving of it."

Then, as if to emphasize that this does not include the princess, Ecker gives both of her arms a sudden, violent yank, dislocating both shoulders in an instant. Myrie's head snaps back and she lets out a scream that makes Owynn's skin crawl. For a moment he forgets to breathe, watching her face twist and her body spasm as she continues to wail, as those wails turn to gasps, as she struggles to breathe. Shuddering, her eyes roll back and she goes completely limp.

Ecker presses cruelly on one of her crushed little hands to try to rouse her, but she only groans.

“Ah, well. Too bad. We will have to resume tomorrow.”

He binds her wrists with string and lifts them above her head, eliciting a string of more broken moans from the unconscious fairy. He attaches the string to a hook hanging from the ceiling. Once he lets go, her arms bear all of her weight, and however slight it may be, it is sure to be excruciating when she wakes.

"Here is how it works," Ecker begins. "When they are new, fresh, you overwhelm them with pain. You show them just how far you're willing to go. Most break then and there. But the stubborn ones...let them heal. Provide them small comforts, some hope, remind them what it feels like, but never let them forget that you can take it away. Then you ask them again. Many more give in here, before they can acquire any more damage. But if they resist, you reintroduce pain..." he pulls down on Myrie's ankles, slowly increasing the strain on her arms until she is stretched as far as possible without breaking or dislocating more of her. She groans loudly, miserably, stirring just enough to feel the pain but too overwhelmed by it to form words or even open her eyes.

"You layer the pain until they reach a breaking point," he continues, so casual, as if he is teaching Owynn how to build a fire. "If they still refuse, try something new." He releases her ankles, but the damage is done, and the fairy continues to make soft sounds of distress.

"Now, my human subjects tend to either cooperate, die, or go mad after just a few rounds," Ecker explains. "I admit I am impressed by the princess's resilience. She may be my greatest challenge yet."

This is the first thing Ecker has said that gives Owynn pause. Things have been done to Myrie that would kill or cripple the strongest human man. Yet the princess recovers every time with barely a scar to show for it. Perhaps he has underestimated her.

Perhaps that is what she wanted.

He turns away from Myrie. His services aren't needed at the moment and despite all his doubts he hates to see her suffer. Without another word he leaves the dungeon and returns upstairs, feeling more conflicted than ever.

–

Every subsequent visit, Owynn finds Myrie a more and more broken.

First go her arms, broken in a dozen places or more and twisted around each other unnaturally before she is strung up by her wrists again, the position infinitely more excruciating.

Next her knees and ankles are crushed and she is strung up again, only this time with her feet touching the table, forcing her to choose between putting pressure on her legs or her arms. It does not take long for her body to decide for her; Myrie's legs give out and once again her poor arms must bear her weight all night. By morning she is delirious with pain and exhaustion.

After this Ecker gives her a couple days of reprieve. Not enough to heal, only to return to her senses.

Then he starts on her ribs.

He breaks them one at a time, starting at the smallest ones low on her sides and working his way up, careful and methodical so as not to accidentally kill her.

He dislocates both legs at the hips, presses on her sternum until it cracks, even fractures her spine in several places, though he stops before he can cause too much damage.

What remains is a trembling, twitching mess, so swollen, bruised and tender that inflicting new pain is no longer necessary. Neither is restraining her. Ecker leaves her out on the table overnight, shivering without any cover while her body throbs all over from countless broken places, simultaneously too hot and too cold.

Owynn is tasked, as always, with the simple tasks of bringing her food and water. Myrie drinks little and eats less. She rarely wakes enough to speak but hurts too much to get proper rest, and so she spends long hours half-conscious, moaning and mumbling faint pleas. All of Owynn's attempts to soothe her are futile, his medicines useless. When he is with her he places her on a cushion and covers her with a cloth, trying to offer at least some comfort and warmth.

Sir Gavyn and Ecker visit, too. They press on her shattered knees or squeeze her bruised sides, ruthless in their interrogation. Myrie writhes and weeps, barely able to breathe through the pain, let alone speak.

It becomes unbearable to see her like this, and so Owynn takes drastic measures.

One night he arrives for a late shift with instructions to give the prisoner water and crumbs, nothing else. And so he does.

But prior to this, he went to the physicians again, telling them he has been beset by terrible nightmares these past weeks. It isn't entirely a lie; his dreams are filled with the same conflict he feels in waking life. Some show Myrie as a helpless victim, tortured to the brink of death, but Owynn cannot reach her, cannot help. In others, though, he frees her, only for the fairy to lay waste to the castle and all who live there, guilty and innocent alike.

And so he is happy to accept a sleeping draught, most of which he uses himself, but saves a few drops to add to Myrie's water.

The princess has little strength left to eat or drink, but she does not need much. Within minutes the draught takes effect. Owynn sees the moment it happens, when her twisted expression softens and her twitching limbs go slack. She falls into a deep sleep and, when he checks on her just before the end of his watch, she is still asleep, and even seems a little improved.

-

Healing is slow and arduous. It is delayed by malnutrition and no care beyond what little Owynn can provide when it is his turn on duty. Whatever human concoction he gives her, she doesn't know, but nor does she care. The hours that follow are the only time Myrie is free of pain. By morning its effects wear off and she wakes to a chorus of throbs and aches, ten times as loud for having been forgotten.

For a while she is too weak to do more than sip sugar water. Unable to sit up on her own, Owynn must support her shattered body with one hand while holding the liquid to her lips with the other. As the days drag on he starts bringing crumbs of bread and bits of dried fruit for her to nibble, in hopes that she will regain her strength.

It feels like an eternity, but she does. First she can speak again, then sit up, then stands. Eventually one day, though sore all over and unsteady on her feet, she manages to walk without holding onto Owynn's finger. That night he finds her collapsed at the far end of the table.

Just when Myrie can truly say she feels better, she wakes abruptly to a searing-hot touch. A steel vise is rapidly closing down on the fairy's slender ankle, the cool metal burning her flesh. Myrie doesn't hear her bones crunch beyond the sound of her screams.

Both ankles, both wrists, and a few small ribs later, the princess is half conscious, delirious with pain and wheezing as she struggles to breathe. Her head lolls from side to side. She can't settle; it's all too much. She opens her eyes.

Through the tears clinging to her lashes, she can just make out Owynn standing against the wall behind Ecker. His eyes won't quite meet hers, but they are damp and his face is red and his fists are clenched and shaking. Just as his body is encased in armor, the gentle young man she trusts is trapped within the role he has chosen for himself, the promises he made. It hits her then in a way it hadn't before:

He won't save her.

He can't save her.

He may want to. He may be the best of them. But he is still one of them.

For a few days now there has been a pressure in Myrie's back, just between her shoulder blades. The fairy knows by some instinct deep within that these are the first signs that her wings are finally beginning to regrow. She has never felt more afraid.