The Raven [Sekah & Taldemire]

[Sekah]

Crow liked Calicut. He intended to stay here for as long as he could.

It was a busy port city, and so many traders came and went from all over the world that it was easy to fit in. Easy to hide. Easy to escape notice. There was always work by the docks, too. Wages could be paid in pearls, in Calicut coins of kingly metal, in Spanish pieces of eight brought in by the Portuguese with their new fort, which were minted, they said, in the New World, in the square coins of the Qing Dynasty, a Manchu-led, newly created empire in China. Ships sailed in from China and princedoms from all corners of India, even sometimes from the coasts of Africa. In the last two decades, there'd been a flood of interesting new ships from Europe, bringing a new kind of foreigner who were now, all these years later, not all that uncommon a face to see in the market. The novelty had worn off.

Crow and Hana lived in a paupers' house, on stilts at the edge of the city. It was one precarious room reached by spindly wooden stairs, teak floors Hana swept out daily. They cooked in a communal oven for the whole neighborhood, next to the well, a good walk away. Their bedrolls they rolled and tied up during the day, a familiar morning routine in Mio as much as here. It wasn't a glamorous home, but it was comfy enough, hung with cloth and relics of their travels, and faeries had powers that made a pauper existence more bearable: Crow was now old enough to be able to grow most any fruit or vegetable he wanted without expending too much energy. Except for the desire for meat, which could be debilitating, he kept both him and Hana fed without a cramp. Hana was still not as able to grow food without becoming tired, hampered by her human half, so Crow eagerly took over the growing.

It was not a bad life.

He was on his way home from a day of dock work. He'd been aching and itchy from dirt and sweat when the foreman called off work for the day, but he'd also been paid—the foreman was a fair man, and it was a reasonable amount for the work he'd done—so before he went home, he took a detour to the nicer baths.

When he walked to his home, it was already dark, but he was clean, his skin smooth, his beard and hair carefully trimmed, his lean torso smelling faintly of fragrant oils from the bathhouse. He had a cloth bag of dates he'd bought Hana from the market, for a treat.

He rubbed the sore muscles on the back of his neck, turning down the right street. For the last little while, he'd been getting this prickly feeling, like he was being watched. It had always been easy to dismiss.

The street was so dark it taxed even Crow's vision. This neighborhood was poor, and it was late. Most who had candles had already blown them out and resigned themselves to sleep. These houses, with wood floors, had no hearths to make a fire. Unlike some places Crow had lived, though, it was almost never cold. Fire would have made houses smoky and uncomfortable.

He was quiet, thinking of nothing at all as he approached his house, swinging the bag of dates. He hoped Hana was already asleep. He would surprise her with them in the morning, if so.

 

[Taldemire]

An acrid fusion of ocean and earth floated though the bustling market. Spices piled up to be weighed for purchase. It was as busy as ever with people going about their day, doing their jobs or collecting goods for their families. Much of the life here seemed fulfilled and purposeful for the many people who called it home. There was community among them. One feeling that Rowan could only ever witness at a distance. They were friendly enough though, allowing him to come in every few months to peddle his cloths and leathers. It made a decent enough living selling the leathers, while the demand for his particular black silks was come and go. It served a far less practical use then the thicker, sturdier leather which relegated it to local clothiers or seamstresses. Better then the profits though it allowed some sense of peace. Humans were cordial, sure, but much more personal in their own affairs then the changlings.

Rowan had long since felt alien to the human he used to be. The traditions, the way of life, and the exhaustive will to push ever forward were a distant song to him now. Even when he had escaped fae capture as a a new man, a free changling he was still just a broken man. The cruelty a sickening nightmare he could never escape even in relative safety. Rowan's eyes always watching the door, every look a possible suspicion of his secret, every word laddened in a suspended lie. All while he holds a flat smile, making as little of a footprint around him as he can. Still even this anxiety was real. At least he could feel this, unlike the fantasy back where the other changelings lived together. A fantasy traded for all that pain and resentment that gets piled down or forgotten. A lovely lie that goes down easier then the things that were lost. A lie Rowan couldn't blame them for, one he wishes he could believe wholeheartedly.

The truth was more bitter and sat on your tongue like a disgusting film. A hungry ravenous pit of unsettled anger boiled under the skin. This feeling was something he had never imagined to release into the world. What was he, a single being, going to do against the magical might of the fae? Not a damned thing, but this recent monthly trip had proven far more profitable then any other. In all of his brooding during a return from dropping off several lengths of black silk a smell struck his nose. That sickenly sweet smell of a fae crossed him as he walked through the roads. A rush of fear tore at Rowan's chest as he tried to keep calm. His body seizing up as his breath became unsteady. He almost dared not to look behind him. His mind racing, "Have they finally caught me?" Though when he peeks over his shoulder, everyone still continued on their way as if nothing was wrong. The fae had not noticed him, nor even acknowledged his existence. Off they went on their way like it was any other day.

The changling stole himself away towards a back alley. His panicked breath catching as he tried to even it back out. A hand on his chest, clinched tightly at his rapidly beating heart. It felt like he could pass out at any moment as his mind raced through thoughts of what the fae had done and what they could still do if they found him. All that fear and anxiety roiled within him until a chuckle creaked its way through his lips. Rancid and horrible that chuckle became.

Now, almost a week later, Rowan had been tracking the man down. He learned his schedule stayed fairly static. Dock work during the day, any shopping done in his evenings, before settling in for the night at home. What's more is he was not alone, he had a younger sister with, that same sweet faelian smell. Twines of fate have finally given Rowan a means to exact some sense of justice. That revenge that ate at him like a vulture. Even sleep won't let his heart rest now, it pumps to vigorously as his plan comes together in his mind. Him watching his prey from the dark vail of a nearby house. He waits to strike, he knows his chances of doing this quietly and easily will be impossible against two fae. Tomorrow, as long as everything goes as planned the sister will fall first. Then the brother will know the fate his kind has put upon him.

 

[Sekah]

Crow, ignorant of his watcher, finally reached the right house. He walked up the teak stairs held over stilts that led into muddy swamp below the wooden walkway that in the rainy season was a river. He drew aside the door, no lock on the house, because locks were expensive. There were some magic protections, charms he'd put up and hung in the doorway, better than any lock. He'd learned them from Father.

But he didn't know that a fae or fae-made creature could surpass them.

"Hana," he whispered, "are you up?"

But she wasn't, her sleeping mat and bedding rolled out, her tiny form rising and falling with her breath. A cold dinner was sitting on the shelf waiting for him, a curry in the fashion of this land. He tucked in, no utensils, just his hands—it was odd forgoing chopsticks, but things went easier when you complied with the culture of the place you were living.

Crow put the dates beside her, where she'd see them waking up, rolled out his own sleeping mat, doused the witchlight he'd been using to eat with, and fell gratefully into oblivion.

The next day passed much the same as the first. He worked all day at the docks, was paid, and made the long walk home in the dark. He dawdled again, going once more to the bathhouse since he'd gotten exceptionally filthy with muck today, which he rarely did twice in two days—something about today compelled him to. He held nothing but his pack as he trudged the long, familiar byways, hungry and exhausted, looking forward to seeing Hana.

 

[Taldemire]

Two little birds, settled in for the night, safely tucked away behind warding trinkets protecting their nest. Rowan sat watching their home for a while longer until the final flicker of light died out. Tomorrow was the day of action and tonight he'd fill his stomach with some momos and tea at the local inn. He'd grab a few things from the room he had rented during his stay and attempt his attack after the brother had left for his dock work. For now though, a warm meal, small rest, and then an early start.

Four hours after Rowan had laid his head to rest in simple bedding, he woke. A restless handful of sleep actually processed through his body. The anxious and rabid thoughts of his mind turning his dreams into unmemorable moments of sheet jostling. There was more comfort in rising back up. Things had to be done and no amount of sleep was going to quell the needles that pricked every goosebump throughout his skin. He had a plan, a brash and roughly constructed one, but a plan none the less. First he'd need to get past the lock, then take care of the sister, before finally getting the brother under his control. He needed names.

Morning had not yet begun to rear it's head just yet. The night was still dressing the city in its cloak. It allowed Rowan to find a good position that did not allow to many questions from any on lookers. It allowed a view of the fae's stilted home. Options on what he would do when he got his hands on the sister practiced in his mind. Until after a few hours, light began to break away the shadows and allowed everyone vision to make their ways about. Then in the distance the creak of wooden door to the fae household opened as the older brother made his way to the docks. Surely there was enough time to get things done before he returns. Rowan reminding himself that he must be quick, but he must also be thorough.

When it felt safe enough, that the eldest fae was far past the point of turning back it was time. There was no time to waste. Rowan grabbed his pack and headed towards the door. Looking around there wasn't anyone else about. Most either having already headed to their jobs or busy moving through the market on their daily runs. The door before him covered in magical charms, breaking it down might be possible, but highly suspicious and noisy. Instead right before knocking at the door he cut a large hole in his pack, the contents spilling about at his feet. A feigned string of curses leaving his mouth, theatrical huffs of frustration before he finally knocked. Moments before a girl's face peaked out cautiously from the frame. She had asked if he needed anything, to which he turned on his act. "Hello ma'am, I'm truly sorry to bother you. No one else seems to be home. I didn't know if anyone would answer. My traveling pack has broken on my way to make a sell of my fabrics. Could you help me? I just need to gather my things at the very least, but if you have anything I could sow it back together with, or even just a small rice sack that you don't need anymore that I could use till I can get it repaired." His face was a mix of embarrassed frustration pleading for her help. She wasn't dumb though and while she wanted to help, she was in no rush to allow the strange dark haired man inside her home. Rowan knew he needed to get inside. She told him to wait there while she went to look for something to help. Before she could pull away though Rowan spoke up again, "Ah I'm sorry, before you do could you help me gather this all up? If I leave these fabrics on the ground they may get ruined. I can wait at the entrance, but I really don't want them to get dirty. It's my only lively hood and if I don't sell these today I'm going to be in trouble trying to afford any food." It was a rough excuse, but her face was sympathetic and she agreed to allow him some shelter as he collected and dusted off his wares. Everything picked up, she had him stand at the entrance before going to find an old sack. Talons out, Rowan cut his innocent smile away and closed the door behind him. A sound she heard with uneasy suspicion before looking behind her and seeing the tall broad man wearing a wicked grin. "You're mine now little fairy."

Hours of torture proceeded their initial encounter. Rowan took care not to rough Hana up too much. He may need her in full form in case the brother returns sooner then he had planned. Slowly he wore away at her with a mental barrage. He'd pull back and smack her across the face if she gave him too much difficulty. She wasn't allowed to scream, threatened by far worse bodily harm to herself or her brother if she allowed anyone to know of her current plight. Everything she held close and sacred was at risk, her face bruised and sore. Out of everything though it was the treats against her brother she loved so dearly that seemed to hurt the most, and she had reason to believe this man could make it so that she never saw him again. Either because he attacks Crow or because he kidnaps her and has his way with her. It was terrifying, not even knowing who or why this man was after them. Hours of tearful resistance and stubbornness she had finally relented. Rowan made sure she understood this may be the last time she ever saw Crow again, a fate she feared more then death. Her only true family in this world, the one person she depended on and looked up to being forever gone from her life. A fact played on till all she could do was relent. Her true name being uttered under her breath, a last pleading breath of mercy.

"Slut?" He cruely scoffed with a chuckle. "What poor misery do you creatures dispense upon yourselves? How unfortunate." There was no triump in his voice, no manic pleasence in his tone. He felt cold now as he rubbed the back of his knuckles. One deed was done, and with one simple command he was able to ascertain the true name of Crow as well. The horror and dread hollow on Hana's face as she slumped with her head towards the ground. She could only hope that this was all for something and thay when it was over her and Crow could be free again. She had hoped her brother was able to fight this man off, to be victorious and not allow this cruel being get what he is after. Her voice shrill and scornful as she choked back her tears in defiant pride, "Who are you? What do you even want with us? We've never seen you so this must be a mistake!"

"I assure you, your kind has done far worse to me then I've done to you here today. If I have my way, you all will suffer far worse." He rolled his shoulders and neck a moment. "Behave and you'll know more soon. I must deal with your brother first though." She almost screams out, pleading for him not to be harmed before Rowan's hand reaches her mouth, now a pointed set of talons that surrounded her head. She froze in shock and he gave her commands. "Slut, you will stay in this house silently. You will seek no help from anyone, nor will you allow anyone else inside this home except for me. Other then that eat, drink, and do what you normally would at home until I return. I will be back for you. This I command." He knew the what it meant to know their true names. He had control over them in an absolute degree. Something that will make his encounter with Crow far easier.

Rowan waited a while, recouping and thinking to himself. He was uncomfortable, sitting in a room while the younger sister stared nails into him. His actions were cruel, he knew everything was reaching a point of no return. This revenge consumed him, as bitter as it tasted, but it had to lead to some peace in the end. Surely he could make the fae pay for what they've done to countless people. What they had done to him. The scars on his back tingling with pins and needles. His foggy, memory warped mind trying to collect all of the information shards that were left after his escape. In a matter of time, night began to fall and Rowan knew his second target was soon to head back his way.

Crow was making his way down the alley. Freshly bathed after his messy day at the docks. His mind probably idly thinking of his day or his sister. From behind he hears a voice from the inky black, a deep gravelly voice whispering, "Sleep Beast, sleep." Before he falls to the ground, blacked out in deep slumber. The next thing Crow sees when his name is once again uttered to wake is himself tied completely to a chair. His hands and feet bound by rope. A 6'2" jet black haired man, tanned olive skin, standing broad and solid before him. He was dressed in dark ankle banded pants that ruffled out near his thighs. Wearing no shirt, his hooded cloak laid open and flowed out, frayed at its ends. Piercing gray eyes looking down at his captive, arms crossed. "You will not scream out, Beast. This I command."

 

[Sekah]

Youkai lurk on the dark roads, in the dark night, in the inky blackness between buildings. Before Crow knew to fear, the demon was upon him. He never saw his attacker before he was passing out down into the mud, deeply asleep.

He awoke when ordered, and was immediately wrapped in his captor's words. You will not scream out.

"Hana," he said, the word sharp and pleading and desperate, his eyes ignoring his captor to find her. Had he failed her?

Had he lost her?

The only reason he stayed on this miserable Earth, alive?

 

[Taldemire]

"Ahh good, you're finally awake. First things first though. Beast I command you to cause no harm unto me, to not escape, or call for help." Pleased with himself, he circles around his prey. For once the shoe was on the other foot. A fae was going to experience the true horrors that they so easily bring upon the humans. This was going to be decadent and Rowan was going to savor every morsel. He had removed Crow's shirt so that there was no barrier to anything Rowan used on him. The changelings eyes looking up and down his prey with twisted eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm sure your sister is fine. As long as you work with me and give me what I want then this can be less painful that in needs to be. I want to find the fae city and get through their defenses. I want you to tell me everything you know about your kind that will help me in knocking their empire down." Rowan's hand slid onto the mans bare shoulders, roughly gripping into his skin. A brush of his breath against his ear as Rowan spoke, "Surely you know something of use, yes?" A warm, worn hand brushing his cheek in taunting play.

 

[Sekah]

"Fae city?" Crow said, blankly and forlornly. "Fae live—across the veil." He looked at him, took him in. To Crow, his captor was big; frightening; twisted, like a machine with parts that hung wrong. Crow's lean torso, starting to shine with fear sweat, was heaving. "In another world. I think," he muttered. "From what father said. I've only been once. I—I don't have anything that could get through a fae city's defenses; and I don't know much about them. Us," he belatedly amended. Most days he felt like a human, so his own heritage wasn't high in his mind.

His breath was thick as tar molasses in his lungs.

"Please," he tried, "I really don't know much of anything you can use, sir. Please give my sister back." He bowed to him in the chair, screwing his eyes closed and bending his head forward, making his black curls fall into his face.

 

[Taldemire]

Rowan's jaw tightened, as he began angrily grinding his teeth. The grip of his hands against crows shoulders now squeezing hard. Everything the fae said sounded like lies. Filthy fae lies. Lies. Lies! Lies!! "LIER!" He yelled, circling back around his prisoner with a left hook meeting Crow's jaw. "You lieing fuck!" Rowan's eyes pin pointed daggers of malice. His jaw set like stone as he bit down on his teeth, tightly holding them in place. Surely this man didn't think him a fool. He knew the fae lived in their own disconnected realm. They could come probably come and go as they pleased. It's where they came from so there should be no reason this creature would have no clue. Rowan would not accept that.

He looked at the fae, their mouth starting to spill out blood from his mouth. He had no fear of injuring him, he knew the creature could heal himself. Hell that's what he wanted. The more time he could spend dragging out every single piece of information that he could use. Rowan snarled and his voice hissed with rage, "Don't think I'm stupid, even if you all destroyed my memories I know there's a way to get in. You will tell me even if I have to tear you apart to rattle that memory of yours back." His hands holding the arms of the chair that Crow is tied down to, face pressing against face. "You belong to me now." His smile almost poisonous as he speaks.

Before standing up Rowan pulls his head back and smashes it against Crow's nose, breaking it as blood begins spilling out. The changling grabs a handful of inky black hair with an iron grip, pulling it backwards so that all the blood drains down the fae's throat. "I've got all the time in the world for you. Me and you are going to become very close to each other here in this room."

 

[Sekah]

A fist exploded out of the side of Crow's vision, sending spatters of blood as delicately as shaken off a lady's parasol. They arced from his mouth to the already blood-stained walls. Oh, God, he realized. That's Hana's blood.

He began crying, helplessly, rocking to ease himself off the edge.

He looked to the left, to the right, anywhere to look away from the terrifying man. He paid for his inattention when a headbutt broke his nose—and a grip in his umber curls made him swallow his hot, metallic blood. He could taste it, feel it oozing down his sinuses, down his throat.

"Um, I dink—I dink I can exp'ain how to ghet to the other world—" His sinuses suddenly ground with his bones as his nose unbroke itself. He sneezed a massive spray of bloody droplets, and said, "You—find the places where the two worlds are—um—close—and then you..." He made a helpless pinching and tugging motion with his two bound hands. "You grab and pull. And—and if you have the right magic—they come apart. But you've got to close them afterward, or someone might enter the rift and get hurt. You close them by—" Now his right hand mimed a seamstress's. "—sewing."

He was aware of how childish and incomplete his explanation sounded. He had guessed how to open it, all those years ago, at fourteen. "I'm sorry sir," he whispered, "I've only done it twice. Once to enter, once to leave."

 

[Taldemire]

Rowan had already assumed he needed certain magics to tear a door into the fae lands. It was a bitter fact that ate at the changling, knowing he would need the help of fae to enter. A distasteful leash he would need to drag around two enemies with.

The changling circles Crow like road kill. A fey play thing in Rowan's grasp. He bit his lip as he savored what he had. Information, revenge, and release sat right before him in abundance. With a flick of his talons, fingers ran across Crow's toned abs. A claw brushing gently with each rotation.

"We aren't talking about your sister now. This is about you and me. What you can do for and will help me with. You will end up tearing into the fae realm with your own hands. You will be the instrument that allows the whole realm to be burned to the ground." His voice almost gloating at this point. He walks proudly as he circles, his gait a catwalk. Manic rushes of blood coursing through his tanned skin. All the while Crow tearfully pleaded. His high was coming down with all the tears and he dug his nails in deep. Slashing across Crow's chest.

"Rowan sneers, "What are you sniveling for? You aren't sorry! Not a single fae ever has one morsel of mercy in them. You're just weak and scared because you were caught with no chance to fight. Just as we were before you changed us." Two clawed fingers push inside the fae stomach, stabbing him deeply in the guts. "Changed, tortured, and forgotten. Like we were just animal playthings. How dare you say sorry to me!" Blood dripping down the hand and down Crow's front. Squelched sounds as Rowan pulls himself out.

 

[Sekah]

Those inches long claws—claws, dear Gods—ran along Crow's navel, dipping into the seams of his muscles, making lines in his sweat. Each touch made Crow flinch. Crow's words angered him—he watched malice twist his face moments before his talons tore through his abdomen in a hot, searing slice. Crow couldn't scream; the name order was impermeable, as strict and unbending as stone, like his new master. Two long fingers slid past the stringy muscles and into Crow's hot, ropey guts. Crow opened his mouth and a splat of crimson blood fell into his lap and dripped on the floor.

His body jerked and rattled against his bonds with his trembling, the soft, warm flesh going cool to the touch with shock. But when the fingers pulled out, the wounds were already closing behind the back of his talon, a soft aquamarine gift sparkling over his skin as his magic raced to repair the damage.

Crow coughed up the blood left over in his esophagus in little jerking spatters, then turned his eyes up to him. He had a sweet face, soft black eyes, gentle and trembling, gruesomely painted with blood like war paint and paler than he should have been.

"You can't kill a world," Crow whispered to him, his vulnerability and fear making his voice as soft and intimate as a lover's, the way two people lay in bed entwined and whispered in one another's necks. "I don't have power like that, sir—nobody does—" Maybe somebody did. The Gods. "Nobody I know, or could—could help you find—"

If Rowan looked, he could read sympathy on Crow's face for his brief glimpse of pain, for the suffering he'd experienced. He bit back the next words. I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry. They stayed in his head, the unspoken sentiment. He looked down at the teak slats that made up their floor, showing the part of his black hair. There was already blood smeared, more than from this; Hana's blood. I'm sorry, he thought again.

"I—didn't do that—sir," Crow told him, his voice so low, trembling pitifully like his mending body, it was hard to hear him. He spoke below a whisper, a susurrus. "It wasn't me." Knowing he might have angered him, afraid of the man, his talons, he curled away from him into the chair, his knees belling towards each other to close his legs, stopped by the ropes, his chin ducking into his shoulder. His teeth began to chatter as he awaited the man's retribution.

"What's your name, sir?" he asked him, through clattering teeth.

 

[Taldemire]

Iron odor permeated a graphic image of the brutality that this room concealed. Whimpers and words a trill durge. All Rowan wanted was his scorn to feel like it wasn't some deranged obsession. The hollow feelings of fear and pain that has haunted him since his escape welling up in him. Why wasn't this feeling going away? Why wasn't the pain and anguish he could finally return fulfilling that pit of agony within him?

Crow was pleading to him, Rowan didn't want to see those eyes look at him. The same eyes he himself aimed at his own captures. It hurt, like sand in a fresh open wound. Grinding, burning, and exacerbating the issue of his mind into a hemorrhaging schism. Why did this fae have to speak the truth, even when he wasn't made too. Even when he had any right to lash bitterly at Rowan for what he had already done, he could tell the fae's words were an earnest attempt at mutual understanding. How else could any creature convey so much pain behind eyes like that. Like they would erase all the evil in the world just to give another some mercy from the cruel reality of life. A conviction of empathy that expressed deeply that I hear you, and I understand. Beautifully his eyes existed to try and speak to Rowan's soul like a crescendo bellow to rattling the sea. Their eyes met, black into grey. Crow pleading that it wasn't his fault. He didn't cause this, but his apology for what had been done. Yet, there was nothing either of them could do. What was Rowan to do now?

"My name...It..It's Rowan." He says solemnly. His claws retract back to his normal hand. His posture slumps a bit, his core rattled at the core. Nothing felt right anymore. It all felt wrong. This all was an endless self serving cycle that condemned one's sake till it came back around to bring upon the same fate till everyone drowned in despair. An understanding crossed the changlings face and before he said anything else, he began to undo Crow's bindings. He let his feet free first, then his hands, and finally undoing the ropes around his thighs. Crow was free to stand up now, but still bound by his previous commands of non-violence and the inability to escape.

"Why?" Tears streamed down Rowan's face. Heavy heaving of his chest as he began to sob. "No." He whimpered. "No no no no." He held his head as his sobbing tears hiccuped in his throat catching his breath every few moments. Rowan was inconsolable as he trashed about in a manner that seemed he was fighting within himself. His moral compass spinning in a maelstrom. Fae magics. That's what it had to be. Trickery. Deciet. He was a fraud. He wanted this! He wanted the changling to fall for his act. There was no way he could understand. He just wanted free. Rowan stood there, frozen in time, his hands on his head dropping. Like a statue he stayed in a slumped over, zombie like stance. His head facing down to the ground. For a solid five minutes he was still. His tears having stopped, the sobbing was already sputtering out into slow breaths. The changling was an unmoving haunt of a man. He was a ghost.

"Heh." His body almost twitched. "Hahaha...ahahaha." Like a rumbling earthquake his body begins to rattle with a chuckle. It starts weakly, rising into a joyous roll, before it descend into cackling madness. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! YOU! You!" First a hand touches Crow's cheek. Gentle pets against his skin. "You really had me there. I almost felt sorry for you. I actually thought that maybe, maybe there was a fae out there that truly could see me as a huma...." He coughs, correcting himself. "As a person." The hand creeps down from the fae's face, down to his neck. Gradual pressure wrapping around his pretty neck. Rowan pushed, a scream emitting suddenly from his mouth as his face twisted in maniacal rage. He crashed Crow's head against the wall, his body following suit. "How dare you try charming me with your magics faerie! How fucking dare you!" Another bang rings against the wall as he slams him once more.

"Oh little fairy. Stupid, sweet little fairy. You want to understand me? You want to feel me?" Rowan patronizing pats Crow's face before smiling and grabbing his hair again. He spins him around and pushes his face into the partition. "Fine then, hands on the wall and bend over, Beast." He commands with bloodthirsty vitriol.

 

[Sekah]

The man let him go.

Crow couldn't believe his luck, hope flooding his face, looking at him with openness as he undid his bonds.

"Thank you, sir," he told him. And when he was fully untied, he didn't run, stretching his arms and rubbing his wrists and then ankles, where the ropes had bit.

The man was—deranged, scattering around the floor, but Crow thought he understood what had happened inside his head—that urge to hurt a stand-in, a paper doll of the people who had hurt him. Crow had bullied children as a very young child, memories he wasn't proud of. He knew the feeling.

He reached out, so gently, so softly, and rubbed Rowan's shoulder. He felt uncomfortable, the stranger wildly sobbing all over the ground splattered with his sister's blood, but he needed to find out what the man had done with Hana. If she was still—

The shoulder he was rubbing began to shake. Crow felt terrible, a sinking weight of guilt in his gut. But then—

—then the man looked up.

He wasn't shaking out of horror.

He was shaking out of mirth.

Crow recoiled like his hand had been burned, cringing away from his captor.

It was Crow's turn to shake, when the hand clapped his face, smearing bloody fingerprints on the apples of his cheek.

Crow closed his eyes, too frightened to watch the man's hand drift down to his neck. Would he kill him?

Maybe it was the kindest option.

Crow folded first one, then both legs up onto the chair, until he was balled up in a fetal position, wordlessly shaking his head in response to the accusations, tears sparkling on his cheek as he clutched his knees. The grip on his neck, those individual fingers with strength beyond a human's—what was he?—before the chair suddenly skittered backwards as Crow was slammed into the wall. His breath left his throat in a little hgck.

The first slam made him hurt. The second made him dizzy, his ears ring, a concussion hitting him like a sock in the stomach, which was queasy. He just kept shaking his head at him, the grip on his throat disallowing speech.

When the order wrapped him up, he was released, and he dragged in great honking breaths. He immediately fulfilled it; there was no hesitation. He whipped around and bent over, hands to the wall, his thighs and shoulders shaking pitifully. His calves showed under his workmen's trousers; the eye was drawn down to his bare feet, too poor for shoes, and having lived most of his life without them. He hid his wet face in the tops of his hands.

"I didn't, sir. You're a person, like anyone else. Did you kill her?" he asked him, finally speaking. "Did you kill my baby sister?"

 

[Taldemire]

Creeping, crawling fingers skitter across the edges of Crow's hips. It was a playful touch that emulated raptorial delight. Hands snaking about as vaguely as his words. Rowan stood there lavishing his prey with demented eyes. He spoke with feigned concern. "Your sister? Gosh, I can barely remember her at this point. Not like it matters at this currently. Poor girl."

Rowan pushed himself against Crow's backside as his hands slithered up, under his shirt, and to his chest. Fingers slid and found purchase against the fae's nipples. "We don't have to worry about her. She has no importance. Not for me, and honestly, right now you have no power in finding her. You only have me and all I want is for you to give me everything I need to take down the fae. No more of your tricks. No more lies."

He hums, grinding against the helpless man. Blood covered hands smearing like a painters brush against skin. A growing bulge within the dark pants of the changling. He could feel the twisted madness pulling at him. His fury and all the memories of his imprisonment taking forward control. Part of him wanted all of it relieved. The lashing out made him feel good. It made him feel powerful. He felt drunk off of it. Was it how the fae felt when they had him imprisoned? Why shouldn't he also find some delight in this sickness?

 

[Sekah]

"You killed her, didn't you," Crow whispered. His voice grew stronger. "Will you kill me, too, sir?"

He paused. Maybe he wasn't clear.

"If I ask nicely, will you do it? Please, sir," he said, with his shoulders shrugged up towards his ears, and his face squinched up like he expected a blow, which, frankly, he did.

He shuddered once when Rowan's hands touched him, the creeping feeling of his sister's blood against his bare skin. He sobbed, feeling that the blood was already cold. Too late. He was too late.

He looked back at Rowan, weeping in a quiet, dignified way, his nose turning cherry from it. Then he looked down at the floor. He was shaking like a small animal held in a trap, vibrating, trembling like a dry leaf in a gale, like it would tear him apart.

"I wasn't lying, sir," he said, wishing he could cut off the parts of his body Rowan touched. "Um. Our magic has—has limits, and if we use too much our body shuts down—I could feel my heartbeat slowing when I used it too much one time, so I think our hearts are made of magic, too. I and Hana both don't like milk from cows, it makes our stomachs sick—maybe that's a weakness?" He genuinely thought his family's lactose intolerance might be true of all fae. He had no idea, no frame of reference, had never met an adult fae after the age of fourteen, and only spent any time with one he was related to before that.

 

[Taldemire]

"What would kill you slower? To know and know nothing more; or not to know and never being able to forget?" All of the smooth malice of his voice like thick oil poured around a bon fire. A paralytic dream bubble filled by a haunt, unlike a nightmare, follows you like death.

Bursts!

As if the idea was a reality sitting at the threshold. It wasn't a question, but a primal threat against everything that was Crow. Thinly veiled only by madness.

"No matter your answer." His hands return upwards at Crow jaw. "No matter what you say." A finger pressing in the middle of the fae's mouth. Touch shimmering away when the body flinched from him. Downwards his hands slide. "At this point no matter which you choose, you'll still be in the same trap. Either way I want it to eat at you as if you'll never know regardless the truth." His claws tearing the fae clothing apart. Tattered rags fall to the floor.

 

[Sekah]

Tears dripped down Crow's face and into his mouth. His lips quivered, his body wracked by the sobs bubbling up. His handsome face was uglied by crying, snot falling down, breath shuddering and shaking like him.

He trembled, flinched over every touch. His flesh pulled back from Rowan's skin with the natural reaction of jumping back from a live spider. "Oh my God, I don't know. No, sir," he begged. "Please."

But there would be worse torments if he failed to choose, he supposed, so he said, "To know and know nothing more."

That would be the easier one for him, and there was a problem with lying.

He was bad at it.

He stared at his feet, and kept glancing at Rowan over his shoulder like a guilty dog.

 

[Taldemire]

"To know and to know nothing more..." He thought, taking in the mess of a being before him. "How very cruel of you." A response bounces back with flat interest. He knew just the thing that would send the fae over the edge. He was rolling in tears and desperation, but there was still a step deeper he could go.

Rowan takes a hold of Crow's beautiful hips and positions them right where he desires before slowly undoing the fabric that keeps his pants tied to his waist. Every detail of the acted brushed against Crow's behind. The deft movement of his fingers as they pulled at a knot. The way his knuckles tightened as the moved. How the soft fabric felt as it slid down and against both of their muscular legs. A soft cock pressed between his shapely ass. The rising excitement in the situation hardening Rowan's cruelty as he sneers in wickedness.

His voice chiming back in like a hallow death. "So you would subject your beautiful sister, to what I'm about to do to you. Drench her in the same fate. Tell me, do you think she will hear us? To know her terrified whimpering as her mind imagines far worse then I ever could accomplish. Maybe like marinated meat, all that time in agony will make her." His voice begins to drop gradually in octaves. "That. Much." His wets his hand and readies himself at his foes entrance. "Sweeter" A grunt hisses his final word as Rowan decends inside Crow, warmth of the changlings member filling the helpless Fae with all that was Rowan's coiled heart.

 

[Sekah]

Crow's breath shuddered, every drawn air sucked in and shaking his painful, rock tight lungs. His hands fisted against the wood he leaned over. His hunched shoulders shook pitifully, like smacked jelly.

Rowan adjusted him to the position he wanted him in, ass in the air like an offering. Crow listened to the rustle behind him as Rowan divested himself of clothing. He had no power, no ability to stop this or protect Hana, so he did the only thing he could do.

He begged him.

"Please, sir, please, please, spare her. Please, she's not full fae, she's a half-fae—in fae society she'd be a slave, sir—I beg you, sir, I'm the full-blood, I'm the—the monster. I beg you, sir. I beg you. Hurt me, but if you have her, let her go. She's no danger to you, sir. She's not powerful enough. Please, please, Gods, please..."

He heaved with tears, growing nearly ugly with his hysterical crying. "Please, sir, please, please spare her, please."

 

[Taldemire]

His deep voice pinched at his words, pulling at them like a garrote. "You beg." The base of his voice breaking, shuddering like dense glass. "You beg me, for some show of mercy as if it would have been returned. Like I haven't been you. Kicked when you're down, looking up at the eyes above you, knowing that the reality you see, clear as day, is drowned in storm clouds. Showing someone a flicker of magic in life and leaving a shell broken by dreams. So much so that never will you be who you used to be."

Reaching forward, Rowan tangles his fingers betwixt the locks of Crow. Pushing deeper as his head is pulled upwards. Vorpal tongue crept behind his lobe that lashed at it with feint brushes. "You can talk, but I want to see you take everything. I want you in ruins."

Rowan began to move his hips. Working his way deep, balls slapping on contact. "Then take from her all that I will vanquish you by." A rickety promise at best to leave her how she currently is.

Another hand grabs the fae's head turning it to look at the man fucking him. Locking their eyes together, speaking at him with only his eyes now. No words, no sound from him except the clapping of his body into Crow's. The tidal wave of force in that stare aimed towards bawling eyes of pleading that bounced about while the raw primitive rhythm of sex begins to rhyme.

 

[Sekah]

"I would never have hurt you," Crow pleaded, grasping at Rowan's sanity, trying to pull him back from the brink. His cock burned inside him, stretching muscles painfully, Crow aching with pain throbbing in the same beat as his heart. He looked up at the wall as his hair was pulled, tears and snot drenching his face, completely undone.

He shuddered pitifully as Rowan licked his ears.

"I—I live among humans, and I've never hurt them," Crow tried. "Ask my neighbors, ask around town. I'm not a monster, sir, please. I don't even steal from them. I work for my living. Please, I beg you, if sh-she's al-ive let Hana go. You can have me. I'll do what you ask, no matter what it is; you don't even have to use my name. Only please let her go."

He turned the young fae's face back, showing the cheeks stained by tears and snot, the quivering lips, the reddened eyes. How pitiful and fragile and vulnerable the fae looked.

"Please, I've done nothing to you, sir, nothing."

His body was rebounding with every thrust, whimpering at every movement of the fat cock inside him.

 

[Taldemire]

Pitiful was an intoxicating slush of cold coursed blood. Warm like honeyed wiskey. One hot buzz of anger a shimmer thought gone in eternal seconds. A gold rush of cascading mirror feelings. Pushing Crow's head into the wall as his cocktail drilled and gyrated his. Rowan back against the faelian ear.

"It doesn't matter. Like I told you, not matter what you choose it doesn't matter. Why should I believe anything you say like you'd bare everything for anyone else? Family or not there is only one way I was able to capture you. There's only one reason that you are mine now."

His grip tightens with pressure, smearing the young man's face across the wall as he paints his will into the structure. He spits in the face of his enemy for insuating that he would be so selfless. Taking his whole body into his hands like a trophy for him to celebrate over. A feeling of shamless victory as he began truly enjoying pounding Crow in a sadistic hate fuck. Thrusting his cock like it was a weapon.

 

[Sekah]

Crow heaved with bitter tears, and stopped trying, turning a bit back to the wall and weeping against it, as his forehead was knocked into the wood with every brutal thrust. He rocked in time to Rowan's taking, his hole squeezing down on Rowan's cock like a vice, like a virgin, though he wasn't one, taking him with discomfort and pain. After all these years, his hole had healed and tightened.

He could barely breathe from panic, his voice hissing through his chest, squeaking in his throat.

He couldn't scream, though the pressure under his diaphragm as his body tried to push him to howl hurt.

"Kill me," he wept out. "Please. If you've killed her, kill me. Please sir." Then he clammed up. He would kill himself. If he found out she were gone, he would kill himself when Rowan wasn't looking. He just had to find out first. It was a foolproof plan—perfect escape. He had never truly felt alive, anyway. It would be a relief to end it.

 

[Taldemire]

"Kill you? Leaving myself without the joy of revenge? Wanting, yearning like a vulture unable to make you hurt. To let the faeries do as they please before I can tear into their realm, you as my knife?"

Rowan grabs the back of Crow's neck, turning and tossing him to the ground with a revoking of his last command to replace it with something new. The muscles in his hands tightening around their neck, forcing his head into the floor as the new command sank in.

"Down Beast, on all fours for me."

Letting his hand go, one arm holding him up as the other coiled around Crow's stomach. His grip held him as he was mounted by Rowan. "And you will do all this, not because I can command you. Not because I have your sister. You will do it all because I will. If you ever want to know your little sister is to ever experience any small hope of a life then you will suffer. What I can do, I will do be dammed the results."

Every sentence punctuated by a hips thrust. Rowan's voice a distant storm booming from behind Crow. "Pain for safety. Torment for comfort. You're helpless little Slut will remain only as safe as you choose. Other wise I have no use for you other then polishing my pride. Your choice Crow."

 

[Sekah]

Crow felt his words as a cold embrace, wrapping him up. Rowan slung him to the floor by his neck—Crow tried to scramble up back in position, but only got to his knees before Rowan's new order wrapped him up. He came down with his hands splayed, his head nodding down sadly as he trembled, waiting for Rowan to remount.

He did it. It hurt. Crow's breath shuddered as the thick cock mined inside him, not too terrible with the preparation.

His words gave Crow back hope she was alive—she was alive, somewhere—he rocked under the vicious thrusts, his black curls swaying, and when he spoke, he stuttered. "Torture me, sir. Do—do what you want with me. But please, in exchange for my suffering, and obedience, please leave her be. She's innocent. She's not even full fae, sir. You have no reason to hurt her." He left unsaid, you have no reason to hurt me, either.