Kingdom of Nod
Pasha awoke with a start. Here he was, again. Somehow it didn't surprise him. He had always thought, in the back of his mind, that he had never left. He knew his father too well. Why would he ever show mercy to anyone? Binding his wrists behind his back, the familiar shackles; around his neck, the collar Dysevik placed on all the slaves. It was currently chained to the ceiling with barely enough slack for him to breathe, let alone get comfortable. His ankles were shackled to the chair he is sitting in with even less room to maneuver than his collar, to keep him from flinching too far away as Angband plied his trade... and to keep him from hurting himself. Lord Marlax would kill Angband if he heard that he'd let this particular prisoner kill himself before he submitted.
And what would it be today, he wondered. Probably not the whip again. He only used that once a week, or thereabouts in Pasha's reckoning, and the welts on his back felt too fresh for that to have rolled around again. Probably not his fists, either. Angband only resorted to hitting him if he got bored of everything else he had available to him, and that was rare. All the same, the muscles along his abdomen and jaw felt sore and swollen. His long hair, what little he could see of it through his left eye since the right was almost shut from the swelling around it, was almost black with filth and grime and clung to his face where the skin had been broken and bled from the man's knuckles. Nothing but the best for his most favored son, he thought bitterly.
He hoped the irons weren't going to be involved today. One of Angband's favorite things to do - or so he gathered from not only his own experience but from seeing him do the same to others in his 'care - was to inflict cuts and then burn them closed. Or sometimes he would just simply build the fires in the room and let Pasha pass out from heat exhaustion. His attention was drawn for taking stock of his situation to the door when he heard a voice - an all too familiar voice - speak.
"Did you have a nice nap, Atrineas? You were mumbling something about a girl-a red head again? Where do you think you are, anyway? Do you see any girls here? This is your reality. Perhaps I will make sure you do not sleep so easy from now on. Your father has asked me if you are ready to ask for his forgiveness. Are you? I mean, even if you are, I might just lie to keep you here. So, what do you say, Atrineas? You were so strong your first day here. Now...not so much... Admit I've broken you...and you can go free. Relatively speaking. Your father misses your services. He very much would like to see you begin them again. Just...tell me what I want to hear. Tell me."
Pasha glared at him as well as he was able, but in this condition the only thing keeping his head raised enough to look at Angband was the iron collar. He simply didn't have the energy to hold his head up on his own.
"Say it, and join us for dinner tonight-we're having fresh basted pork, sweet red wine, buttered corn and sweet greens. Like your Mother used to make. Much better than the bug infested stew they'll give you in here. And a nice warm bed by the hearth. Clean, soft sheets-freshly laundered. And Lord Marlax has assured me you will have your pick of women from his harem for your pleasure...tempting, no? For, the captive women of the last raid are exceedingly...sweet. And pliable. Broken in, I might say. I could recommend several to you. Especially the red headed one."
He continued to glare. His mouth was too dry to speak, but his blood was boiling with anger, as always when listening to the torturer speak. You son of a bitch... He had never really known his mother. She was little to him but a necklace and a few comforting memories from his young childhood, before she had been taken by a lack of food and a particularly harsh winter and he had had to struggle to survive every day. And women? There was only one he wanted, even if it was a foolish notion. But... she had shown him an understanding and compassion few people ever had. In his teenage years, his affairs were merely one-night stands driven by lust; he was handsome and muscular and more intelligent than most farm folk, having taught himself everything he knew from pilfering books, and that drew women to him. In his working years, it had been his status that had brought noblewomen to his bed... but what he had wanted from each relationship he had never received until Dysevik had taken him under his wing. He had found a form of acceptance. And then... in Dalannor... Tala had shown him kindness and acceptance he hadn't known existed, and he loved her for that. She hadn't been swayed by his appearance, or his status, or his money. It was him, the real him, that she had wanted.
Pasha's eye watched the knife as Angband idly spun it between his fingers, the blade catching the glint of the firelight with each revolution. "Atrineas, Atrineas...have you made a decision yet? Lord Marlax kills a dozen of his servants every day you defy him. Those deaths, we both know, are on your head. Let's be honest. The Lord is mad. Insane. We can only but do our best to please him, to minimize his anger...until the day we can get justice. Look at me-I do these horrible things, because I have to. One day he will pay, but until then I must bide my time. I am willing to sacrifice my morals, to get one step closer to him. So, why are you being so selfish? You have done worse than I, and he trusts you more...so, do what he says...and maybe you can get your revenge one day? That's a good plan...a great plan. Better than dying here alone, in the dark...so, what do you say?"
Bullshit. I don't believe it. Not that Dysevik wouldn't do such a thing on a whim. He knew the man as well as anyone could. He didn't believe it merely because Dysevik himself hadn't told him he would do it. Lord Marlax would want him to think about it every day. I wish he would just shut up... He gathered what moisture there was in his mouth and spit at Angband, but he was too weak and the man too experienced; it fell short as he stepped back. "Get it over with..." he managed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as well as he could, waiting for that inevitable first cut.