Chapter 2 #3
Ellaryn could still feel remorse and guilt and grief, not to the extent she used to, but nonetheless, it was there, and she wanted to keep it that way.
She did not want to be a mindless killing machine like the Defiers.
Then and only then would she be truly his.
And that was a thought that kept her up at night.
“But it would be so easy,” the King said with a dark grin on his face.
He pulled his hand out, palm open, and Ellaryn felt something leaving her body.
The pain took her breath away and threatened to bring her to her knees, which only made the King’s smile more intense.
Ellaryn had forgotten how painful the transaction was.
It had felt like there was a fire within her stomach, burning away at her insides.
She clutched at her torso, her eyes widening as she watched parts of her soul swirl around his touch.
“S-stop.” She begged him through watery eyes, trying to catch her breath as she stared up at him.
“As long as you’re sure…” He stated, his eyes not leaving hers.
“Y-Yes, I’m sure.” She nodded her head frantically as her knees crumbled beneath her. They ached on the hard ground.
Rage bubbled up inside her, simmering beneath her skin as her stomach blazed, but she tucked it away neatly, knowing that he was the only one in the city who could overpower her.
The King dropped his hand, and the pain stopped all at once. Ellaryn let out a breath of relief as she felt the missing pieces of her fit back into place.
“But I still think he needs a final lesson—one he’ll remember.” He rested a hand against his chin, as though a particularly menacing thought had only just occurred to him. “Don’t you?”
He cocked a brow at her.
Ellaryn knew the question was a double-edged sword. If she disagreed, she would be punished. If she agreed, she would be expected to carry out whatever dark fantasy had taken root in his mind.
But swords were something she understood. Something familiar. She knew how to wield them, how to read their weight, how to feel the balance settle into her palm. Familiarity bound in iron and steel.
And edges?
Edges were tightropes she had learned to walk long ago. No matter how sharp. No matter how taut.
Ellaryn had been dancing on blades since she was nine.
Finding the rhythm between life and death, law and order, pain and suffering.
Sometimes the lines became blurred. The King had melted her into his own perfect little soldier.
Taking pieces of her whenever she disobeyed, chiselling away until she was sharp enough to cut anyone he wanted her to.
“I agree, Your Darkness. He must face the consequences of his actions.” She said, voice holding false conviction. “I will carry out whatever you desire.”
Her words betrayed her thoughts, for she wanted nothing more than to drive her blade through his heart instead of Gaius’. But the King of all things dark was undying, and a silver blade, even crafted by his hand, would inflict about as much pain as a pin piercing a cushion.
His smile stretched, pale skin cracking at the corners of his mouth.
“Good girl.” He purred, eyes tracing the entirety of her face.
He always looked at her with a twisted adoration.
The same glint sparked in his eyes as when he admired the pieces in his collection.
“Because I’d hate to remind you who you belong to.
” He paused, his mouth so close to her she could feel his hot breath, as his hand claimed her face in a possessive way, decaying fingers digging into her skin so hard it made her eyes water.
He opened his other palm, and a blue flame danced atop it—Ellaryn’s soul. The part he had removed over time. He watched as the piece of her writhed within his grip and smiled at the longing look on Ellaryn’s features, holding her face still so she could not look away.
The King extinguished its fire and whispered in her ear, his breath making her hair stand on end.
“Don’t make me regret letting you live. Remember, little Ruin—I could have killed you like I did your family… but I saw the potential in you, the darkness you kept hidden. Oh, how lovely it is to see it bloom.”
In her mind, she was down on her knees, sobbing at the mention of her family.
She had hoped that when he took her soul, the grief would be erased with it, that she wouldn’t have to live with the fact that she survived and they didn’t.
The King had spoken about the dark inside Ellaryn on multiple occasions, each time leaving a worse taste in her mouth.
Because every time she killed, she proved him right.
And every time she took a life more violently than he had taken them from her, she realised she was no better than him.
Not really.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” He asked, letting go of her.
She nodded her head, and a thick smile plastered across his face.
The King’s features changed all too quickly, and Ellaryn shuddered at his temperament. How a threatening glare could transform into an icy cold calmness at the flip of a coin.
His hand stretched across Ellaryn’s face once again, but this time his fingers caressed her cheek with a sickening softness. She winced internally, not wanting to show her weakness.
“And that’s why you’re my favourite, little Ruin.”