The Darkness That Binds Us

Chapter 9: The Story

I slept uninterrupted for three days straight. I hate that it worked. I hate that the moment he touches me all i want to do is give in. I hate there's a tiny part of me that looks forward to it.

As much as i despised it, there was something comforting in the surety of his visits. Somehow i could always tell when he entered. There was something in the smoothness of his foot falls. The way he closed the door softly right after he stepped inside.

Every morning he'd come with a light breakfast, something i'd like. He'd tell me what time it was, set out the itinerary for the day, ask me if there was anything i needed. He seemed to answer every question i had before they even formed in my mind.

After, The darkling would stay to make sure i was eating properly, and not secretly throwing up my meals in the bathroom, which i had gotten away with -for a while.

He'd try to tease conversation out of me, sometimes succeeding, then i'd usually say something jarring and he'd leave me alone with that same unnerving sting of betrayal lingering in my chest.

Corporalki healers would come and go through out the day, heart-renders would change shifts watching me and occasionally Fabricators would enter to take yet more measurements for the exorbitant gown the darkling had auctioned for the demonstration. But, of course, none of these people talked to me. I once over heard two maids gossiping in the corridor. There's a rumour spreading round the grounds of the little palace that my injury on the battlefield, not only left me blinded, but suffering from 'a severe illness of the mind'.

I have no doubt the darkling started such propaganda, he has done the perfect job of manipulating my image thus far, discrediting any and all of my attempts to act out against him. Even in the darkling's most inner circles, i am now just the poor, young, naive, saint, who awakes every night screaming, tortured by unspeakable nightmares and so confused by the trauma she has bared witnessed to on the Unsea, she no longer knows what is good for her.

"It's so terrible..." I'd heard the maid murmur.

"I know." Her friend had tutted back. "...what do think she saw on the fold?"

"Not a clue, but it must of shaken her. The girl's clearly not right in the head. Did you hear her crying again last night?"

"Sasha told me that she caught the sun summoner trying to make herself throw-up..."

" I'm not surprised."

"I can't believe how patience he is with her though, the general never struck me as the mercifully type."

"I know! It's so sweet! Just like The Princess And The Barbarian!"

"He brings breakfast to her every morning!"

"-and tea! "

"...isn't it just sooooo romantic?"

I'd gritted my teeth for the whole conversation. I wanted so desperately to storm out there and tell them i could hear everything they were saying and ask exactly what was sooooo romantic about being held prisoner against my will?! -but, of coarse, that would just turn into yet more fuel for the case of my 'tragic insanity'.

It was a no win situation. The darkling was like a black widow weaving webs. Not only had he spun me as a complete nut-case, he'd also somehow managed to transform himself -a man who's nickname couldn't get more explicitly evil - into prince charming.

I hate him. I hate him so much -but i can't help but wonder if the reason that Aleksander is such a good liar, is that all his lies are woven from a grain of truth... or perhaps he is just so well practised, even i am starting to believe his stories.

And yet, despite all of this, i still grew accustomed to darkling visits. I can't stop think about his promise. "I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but me." It's relevance spreads like a virus in my mind.

The darkling began to come more and more, or perhaps he was always there, i just wasn't conscious. He often comes at night now to read to me. To begin with i had resented the idea of being read a bed time story like a little kid. But I soon found out that imagination and memories were the only refuge where i could see colour again. Seeing as my memories -Mal- wasn't really an option, that only left me with imagination and me not being a very creative person, found books where the best way to access it. But reading, like many things, was just another luxury snatched away from me by my blindness, so i had him.

The darkling had a smooth reading voice -and surprisingly good taste in books. Light-hearted action adventures with brave hero's who slay fiery beasts, beautiful Ravkan princesses and wise Grisha warlocks. They were well written, and i can't say i didn't welcome the distractions, but all the stories seemed so... Innocent? I don't know, they were classic tales as old as time, but i'd never imaged the darkling indulging in such fantastical stories. I never imaged the darkling indulging in any stories -other than world domination.

This; him reading purely for the enjoyment of the story gave him an unnervingly normal quality, which did not sit right with me, it just felt wrong. But then, the more i thought about it the more it made sense. Being the heartless monster at the head of a ruthless army of kill-trained grisha, getting as far away from reality would be the only way to relax. So why wouldn't a villain choose to imagine themselves as a hero once in a while? Maybe in another story the darkling still thinks he could have been...

I shun the thoughts from my mind, such stories make him too human and the only story that truly matters at the end of the day is the one of him slicing Mal's torso in two.

As the weeks wore on, he'd come read to me every night -not always stories- sometime legal ledgers or official royal documents. At first, i thought it was just another way of getting me to sleep, but the darkling maintained an interest in explaining all his political endeavours to me.

He said he want to build a naval fleet to intercept slavers ships on the true sea in order to round up more grisha for the second army. He planned to tear down the fold before autumns end, now that he had the power and he could re-erect it whenever he wanted, protecting Ravka would no longer be a problem. The darkling even admitted he was plotting to invade Ferjda after the winter solstice -which of course- i objected to, but there is only so far i can argue, when there is a heart-render standing in the corner, ready to shut me down the moment i get the upper hand over the darkling.

"I don't understand!" I'd huffed as i struggled against Theodore, trying to lower my pulse yet again. "Why are you tell me this when you know i'll fight you on every word!?"

"Because i didn't before."

Through all my thrashing, it had taken me a while to realise that he was referring to the first time we met. The effects of Theodore's work began to catch up with me and i felt light-headed. I wondered curiously, if he regretted not telling me his full intentions with the stag, that night on the lake -when we kiss.

"You think," I'd mumbled airily, "so long as you're being honest, that somehow makes all the horrible things you do alright?"

"No." He'd replied. " I just want to tell the truth."

I'd laughed in his face, then my eyes rolled back and i was gone again.

 'I just want to tell the truth...' I was left to dream if that really was the truth or just another one of his stories...