Snippet #2374679

"Alabaster?"
As the darkness didn't seem to get any better, she realised she was most likely blindfolded as well.
"I came to ask you something. One night, I came into your chambers-" he began.
"Confinement cell, my lord." she spat the last two words out mockingly.
"-You were asleep, looking almost a child. Except for one thing;" he went on as if she weren't even there."You were clutching a dagger in your hand."
It was hard for her to speak due to her wounds.At some point, she had even stopped screaming.The words seemed brusque on her tongue.
"For protection."
"I figured. But you don't need common steel. You could torture with your mind or immobilise with your power. Why a dagger?"
"It's merciful." Alienor answered."More than burning magic. More than mental tortue. It's a better way to die."
"I see." he muttered. The blindfold was removed. His eyes were thoughtful, but they changed almost immediately, losing focus.
The room was torch-lit and she could see that one wall was covered with torture instruments, cat-o'-nine, the pear, splinters. A fire brazier was at the far end of the room.
"Do you see, though?" he asked her, standing up, tall and dark in his own endeavour, walking towards it. "Do you not see how pathetically weak you are? A slave of mine does not fear death."
"I do not fear death."
"You fear inflicting it on others. You are to be an instrument to me. An instrument that will cause pain and grief, a tool that will grow fearsome and ruthless. I have no need for mercy, little one. I only crave blood. Blood and Power."
She chuckled harshly. Alabaster was now at the far end of the room, but she knew he could hear her all the same."Over the years I have come to acknowledge that mercy is power. Hope is power, because it enables you to have something to fight for."
He nodded and as he approached her, Alienor could see he was holding a heated iron bar in his hands, its tip burning orange. He knelt down and caught a grip of her hair, crushing her lips beneath his. Alienor felt her head being yanked back to expose her neck. When he detached himself, he grinned.
"Power" he said, raising the iron bar, "is power."
And with that, he pressed the burning tip against her flesh, on the wounds on her neck. Alienor screamed and strugged and writhed but Alabaster just pressed harder, until he was obliged to remove it, for fear it would tear her all the way to the bone. He was not one to be discouraged so easily, however. The iron bar kissed her flesh a dozen times and when it was no longer burning, Alabaster unscrewed a vial and dipped a glowing green liquid on the burnt marks. Alienor foolishly thought it was some sort of potion at first, to heal her as Feardia had.
She always found astonishing the fact that, no matter how badly her throat hurt, how bloody her lips were, Alabaster could always make her scream anew.
"Wildfire." he informed her coldly. "Mingled with iron to strengthen the effect. Wouldn't want you to get bored now, would we?"
When he was tired of relishing her screams, he knelt down again and kissed her, his fingers lost in her raven hair. Every time she would struggle or undergo spasms, he would yank at it and hold her still or bite her lips bloody until she stopped producing sounds, were they grunts or cries or pleas.
"You will learn to be able not feel a thing when tortured. I will not have it said that my slaves are weak. Is that understood?" he said, an eternity later or so it had seemed to her. When she didn't answer, he unsheathed his own dagger and sliced at her skin, just below her collarbone.
"Yes." Alienor gasped.
Alabaster hacked her skin once more and she fought back another cry.
"Yes, my master."
He grinned triumphantly and thought that breaking her would be a lot easier and much more amusing than he had initially thought.