Kintsugi

The Defeat

Anson dragged in air, biting back pained whimpers. Everything hurt. For twenty-four hours he had been hogtied. No food. No water. Not even a chance to go to the bathroom, much to his humiliation. He had received a sharp kick to his ribs in reprimand and then was left to lie in the mess in punishment. The acrid scent had deadened his sense of smell, and he wished he could deaden the pain in his muscles from being twisted into a pretzel all night and day.

He also wished he could deaden the man watching him, waiting for him to finally lose the battle and succumb to the moons pull. Simm's immortality had gifted him with endless tenacity or the ability to go without sleep, which meant Anson had been cursed with the inability to sleep and the misfortune of being forced to listen to Simm talk.

Any effort to shut his eyes and just doze off had earned him something unpleasant. Whether that was in the form of a punch or kick, a flash of magical pain, or something thrown at him. At one point he had been graced with a cup of wine dumped over his head so now he was sticky and smelled like fermented fruit in addition to urine. It was all distasteful in varying degrees, but none so much as listening to Simm describe in excruciating detail what had been done to his companions after he had been shunted out of the battle in the dining hall.

Simm had gleefully told him of how Aisling had been turned into an obsidian statue. How Rebecca had almost drowned and then been hit by Eveirdo's lightning bolt. Anson was sure Eveirdo would be punishing himself for that one for a long time to come. Anson had heard a note of regret in Simm's tone when he had told of the way he had broken Sable's arm, but the off-hand comment about breaking her in other ways had drawn a growl of rage from his throat. His fury had only tipped past the boiling point when Simm gloated over spreading Eveirdo out like some specimen on a board and then ordering him to fetch.

Anson had struggled and thrashed, flinging every curse and threat he could with as much bite as he could manage. He had screamed in ferocious wrath at the thought of his friends so horribly hurt while he had been locked away, hogtied and helpless in a bedroom. But that was forever ago. Now? Now he's so exhausted, he's barely got strength left to stave off his change.

His body trembles as the shift tries to take him and he throttles it back. Holding it off hurts. He already knows it's going to go worse than usual since he's dehydrated and hungry, but if he shifts while his limbs are locked behind him, he's going to dislocate both shoulders and royally rip up his hips. But he's going to have to find some way of getting around that himself, because so far, the bastard watching him suffer hasn't been convinced to let him free.

No amount of threatening or persuasion, begging or pleading, not even frustrated tears has moved Simm.

"You may as well just shift and get it over with.  I'm quite curious what a wolf shift looks like."

Anson wearily rocks his forehead against the floor. A resigned denial that he barely has the energy to hold fast to anymore. Simm paces around him, watching him twitch and shake.

"You are an amusing pet. If you're holding out for your dear Dragon, you might want to give up now. He won't care about you for much longer. Not after what I've got planned."

Anson tips his head, resting his cheek against the floor as he strains his eyes to look up at Simm and glare. Simm grinned, crouching down and whispering like he was telling a secret.

"I know what he came looking for. He wants gold. Jewels. Riches beyond compare. So what use could he possibly have for you when I've covered him in more wealth than he could have dreamed of. I can bathe him in gold. I can dress him in jewels. What do you have to offer?"

Anson licked parched lips with a dry tongue. "He's not that shallow."

Simm laughed. Rolling hysterical mirth that seemed to have no end as he clutched his sides and closed his eyes. When he finally gained a breath, he mocked Anson's claim. "He is a Dragon! Greed for treasure is all he knows. He might have lied for so long about his nature that he has begun to fool even himself, but deep down, all he'll ever know is covetous desire. Not just treasure either, but knowledge and power and magic. They are known for nothing so much as their unquenchable thirst, their gluttonous appetites. And when I show him everything I have to offer...? Not to mention the other...pleasures...I can provide him."