Thread: A Necessary Evil [Prince x Insatiable]

She is dangerous, Lord Commander, I would kill her now, said the Captain that had led the troops escorting the demoness. He was exhausted, but had a haunted look from more than just two days of hard travel. All of us feel filthy, with sinful, dark thoughts invading our minds even during the day. We stink of her depravity and the Light shines weak on our souls. I need to question her first, replied Brennan softly. No one dared argue against him, amongst his staff, but the Captain had displayed rare courage to stand and issue his warning. There was a muttering in his council room as the other officers and priests digested the words. She won't talk, she is so far in the Dark that we can't reach her, Joram said. Joram was the senior priest in this fortress, and Brennan's personal confessor. He had in private given Brennan similar advice as the Captain. The woman's presence in the castle alone set the elderly priest's hair on edge and he looked very unhappy. The Light has given us a gift. We are given this demon bitch for a reason, and the Light will give me the strength I need to get her to talk, replied Brennan firmly. He wasn't use to discord, his men were trained to be obedient and knew he was stubborn with an iron will. Perhaps the bitch's mere presence was already sowing trouble in their ranks? What I must do, to break her, is a sin. Our vows are strict in that we must not harm women, unless a last resort of self defense, but I decree she is no woman, but a demoness. So my sin is permitted. I want tools brought up, from the blacksmith, the farrier and the stables. Pincers, whips, clamps, leather cords, rope, a hot brazier with coals, and a flogger from the barracks. She will talk. I swear, the Light to guide me, that the evil Darksworn demoness will tell me what we need to know to defeat our enemy. I will bear this sin for the Light, and confess it freely to Joram every night. Good night. The list of implements, clearly for torture, brought a round of gasps and muttered comments. But, Brennan rose and walked out to end any further arguments against his decision, hearing Joram follow him. Old friend, Joram said softly, eyes glittering in the dark of the hallway leading to the South tower. I fear for your soul, do not let the Darkness invade you. You have had... weakness.... before. Confess everything to me, every little emotion. Do not let Darkness gain a foothold. It is not worth the price. Brennan scowled in the dark at Joram's reference. That incident was fifteen years ago, when he was a young fool. Surely his friend knew that he was a different person now? A man who walked always in the Light? Victory over the Dark Lord is worth any price, he replied and turned away from Joram coldly. -------------- Brennan stood outside the door to Mara's chambers, a solitary room perched high at the top of a tower. There was only one door to the chambers and the two soldiers that stood outside were disciplined, studiously avoiding the Lord Commander's gaze. The key that Brennan held felt heavy, ominous, and with a grit of his teeth, he placed it in the lock and entered the room. The implements that Brennan had requested had been placed on wooden tables, giving the room a decidedly sinister appearance. With the sun long down, the only light came from the torches in the wall sconces, which sputtered and smoked while casting long shadows across the undecorated, severe stone room. It was a grim chamber, dark and bleak, and suited for sinful work. Brennan steeled himself as he shut the door and strode into the room. On the far wall, across from the door, Mara was chained. Brennan almost didn't see her at first, so slight was her frame and half hidden in the shadows. He walked towards her, hand going by reflex to the handle of his sword, until he stood a couple paces away, inspecting her curiously. A small wave of relief surged through him. Surely this half-conscious, skinny, and apparently weak girl wasn't the horrible depraved, terror that had scared his men and thrown an entire army into turmoil? Her face was hidden as her head slumped forward, the black hair greasy and unkempt from her rough treatment. And the light shift she wore, dirty, torn and wrinkled, revealed a slight frame that seemed to be as thin as the pale arms that were forced above her and chained into a ceiling ring. The girl slumped against that chain, hanging from the ceiling with her knees bent, swaying slightly. It looked very uncomfortable. Brennan's holy vow to protect the weaker sex seemed to flare in his mind and for a second he wondered if this could all be a misunderstanding, some mistaken identity with the mages giving them a camp follower instead of a demon? But no, his men wouldn't lie. This pitiful creature was Mara and Brennan grinned as he studied her. She couldn't tempt him, chained and helpless like this. She didn't look attractive at all, let alone like someone that could make him sin in a carnal fashion. So weak and small, he'd likely break her within a day without even resorting to sinful torture. And that thought made him happy, his ambition swelling as he imagined being the Lord Commander that finally defeated the Dark Lord after fifty years of war. Why had he been nervous, his men scared? She couldn't hurt him, or corrupt him, the Light shone too strong on the Lord Commander for her cheap tricks, if she had any. Marzanna, he said sternly, wiping the smile off his face. He'd start slow with her, see if she responded to reason and an offer of kindness. There was a bucket of water, a ladle, and a bowl of gruel on the table nearby and she looked like she needed some sustenance. Wake up, girl. I am Lord Commander Brennan. Would you like some water, or something to eat?