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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 12, 2021 3:02:07 GMT
Lucian’s eyes moved back to the man, narrowing a little at his last few words. Obviously, he didn’t believe him. And his next move seemed to prove him right.
Somehow, he managed to lunge off the bed, the movement quick, earning a jump out of the Dakhani. But Lucian didn’t stop because of the chain. He couldn’t get past that first rushed step, shaking and unsteady, his breath ragged, but now glaring down at the shorter figure.
“Only a fool would say that… we’re enemies by nature… by blood… if you don’t kill me, I will kill you.”
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 12, 2021 3:15:51 GMT
Despite himself, Karim had jumped. The sudden movement had also startled the ferret-like creature, who had leaped from his shoulder to perch and watch the proceedings from the safety of the curtain-railing, instead. The Jay exhaled then, recollecting his wits, and straightened up, approaching the Sjeverni boldly. Standing before him, he looked the man up and down before replying, unphased by the man’s height- or perhaps just confident in the bonds halting any further progress.
“Then I guess I’m a fool.” He commented, levelly. “And not in this state, you wont.” As if to illustrate his point, he suddenly pushed the man. It was a gentle nudge with one hand, but it sent the man falling back, like a pack of cards in a sudden breeze. It was comical, but the Jay resisted the urge to laugh. “Stay down.” He ordered, firmly, as the man moved to scramble back up.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 12, 2021 3:24:20 GMT
The Dakhani was brazen even with Lucian’s curled lip, still ready to fight despite his condition. But the push had been more than enough to tip him, cursing as he landed and of course immediately struggling to get up with a growl.
Until the command.
Lucian’s breath audibly caught in his throat at the words, eyes widening when he realized he couldn’t push up again. He moved his hands up, then moved his head, but seemed to strain as he tried to curl the rest of himself up, panic quite obviously taking hold at the sudden and inexplicable lack of control. “The fuck…?” he began, glancing at the Dakhani, but unsure how he could possibly be keeping him there… not from that far away!
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 12, 2021 3:33:25 GMT
The Jay, whilst pleased that the man had decided to stay put as he had told him to, was equally confused. The Sjeverni was clearly trying to get up, but something was stopping him. A residual effect of the Choke, perhaps? Would he ever be free from it’s influence? Only time would tell, but for now, the Jay could not help but to think that it might be useful.
He schooled his expression, adopting a look as if things had gone exactly as expected. “You should get some rest.” It wasn’t an order, this time. “You’re weak, and if you really do intend to kill me, you’ll need to build up your strength first.” A lopsided grin. Flirting with the possibility of death was not new to the thief.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 22, 2022 23:54:15 GMT
The Sjeverni clearly felt the opposite of the Dakhani in the situation, trapped by some strange magic. Obeying orders was something he knew the collar could force others to do, but if he no longer had it, then surely he wasn’t still influenced by it? Despite the Dakhani's lingering presence, Lucian could only growl a curse, breath still ragged from the lunge.
Despite his resolve to push back against the “order” and so make good on his threat, forcing himself to stand too soon took its toll. It always did, but for once there wasn’t a presence there strong enough to keep him moving forward anyway. So in spite of his efforts to push against the command pinning him in place, Lucian drifted back to a restless sleep, soft murmurs escaping his lips, words and names he didn’t know he was softly saying.
---
It was a hot day, with the sun relentlessly pounding the training grounds. The guardsman was holding his wrist with an obvious look of pain, head bowed to avoid looking into the eyes of his liege, or the one who had knocked his weapon away so efficiently.
Lucian did his best to control the tremble in his hand, teeth already gritted against the pain throbbing through his wrist and into his arm. Between the two, it would later be found that the young lord had a far greater injury, but he had pushed his way through it to disarm the guard.
“Good,” came the gruff note of approval as Edmund stepped forward, allowing Lucian to lower his sword, swallowing hard to keep even the look of pain from his face. Edmund could see the struggle as the boy finally looked up at him, nodding slightly with only one word to describe what he saw.
“Good.”
“Grand Duke, an urgent message has arrived from the palace. His Majesty the King wishes your presence for the council against the southern invaders.” A wicked gleam shone in the dark eyes as he smirked, turning away from the guardsman and his son. “Very well,” he said, almost dismissive were it not for the smug tone to his voice. He had known all along that they’d want him for the fight - they’d captured one trading ship that had gone astray, and it had turned into an invasion that was worthy of retaliation. Edmund took little time to get ready to go, having anticipated this news for several days now, leaving things in the care of his devoted wife.
Her first order, however, was given even while her husband was still in the castle, ordering the guardsman to the doctor and taking her son into her own care so she could plausibly deny that she’d found help for him. With Edmund’s dominating presence no longer in the room, Helena had knelt before her son with bandages in hand, wordlessly wrapping the injured wrist, hiding the purple and black stained skin beneath the white fabric. Lucian didn’t watch her, but continued to resist the cries of pain that wanted to escape even without Edmund there. Helena had long stopped asking why, knew better than any what the boy went through as the only heir. There was a reason that their lord, the Grand Duke of Sjevern, was known as the Shrike. He’d earned the title in the Dakhani lands for impaling his enemies, letting them die slowly and painfully, all for the glory of the family name. Even the king of the Sjeverni was frightened of the war lord - any weakness in his son had to be hardened, burnt away. Helena feared for her son’s gentle heart, but could only help him defend himself by growing stronger… and colder.
Lucian only looked back to his hand after his mother had finished, holding it gently and kissing it slowly to avoid more pain. Only because they were alone did Lucian dare lift a hand to his mother’s head, pressing his forehead against her braided crown, breathing in her calming scent. She always smelled like flowers. The gardens were her refuge, the color and soft edges a comfort that Lucian would never be able to forget. “Come, I would rest in the garden,” she said, her tone betraying none of her concerns. “I would have my protector with me.”
With a nod of his head in silent acceptance, as if acquiescing politely to a lady's whims, Lucian put the practice sword away and followed the lady of the house patiently, in truth grateful for the quiet time ahead. His wrist was still throbbing from the earlier blow that he hadn’t seen coming, and he didn’t have to see to know that his father’s gaze had narrowed at the slip. Nor did he need to see to know his father was perfectly fine leaving the castle without a word of goodbye, no instructions needing to be left as they were always the same. That was the way that the Grand Duke was, the Shrike ever focused on the next battle. Training would continue in his absence, but now there would be some reprieve, as no one left Edmund’s training unscathed.
---
When Lucian finally started coming too, he again had to remember where he actually was. Again, he was trapped in that small room, hands bound before him, and still so weak he was even more useless now than he was as a ten year old boy with a broken wrist. And what of the collar? He could still feel a ghost of it around his neck, the pain seeming to taunt him, waiting for any sign of weakness to attack again. Or worse, to be unable but obey another order from the Dakhani. They, as he had always been taught, were cruel, evil, earning the worst that the Shrike could offer at the height of his glory.
Whatever hold the collar had put on him before, Lucian found he could sit again, but only if he struggled against his own physical weakness, managing to get up most of the way before finally the sound he’d been biting down escaped. His eyes were shut in a grimace, at both the pain… and at the whimper itself. A close look might catch the flicker of fear when the sound escaped, as if the admission of pain was more feared than the pain itself.
Finally, he finished sitting up, his breath heavy as he fought to maintain control. When he felt he had it, he took a look about the room again. It was simple, with the bed and chair still in place, a small window that gave no indication as to the time, nor how long he had been out this time. The weight of his limbs indicated longer than he would have wanted, but of course he was in Dakhani territory - any time was too long. But he looked more trapped than with the collar on, as at least he was blind to his surroundings. Now? His situation was staring back at him, mocking him with echoes of his father’s voice.
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