{HIATUS} Éternel: Between Two Worlds (#3)

viii. Break My Heart

Warning: This chapter contains threats of r*pe/non-con, blood, gore, graphic violence, and ultra sad times.

Note: Any sentences that are not translated are done this way for a reason. I'll explain this in the end notes.
I also recommend listening to the tracks associated with this chapter for those extra gut-punchy feels. There are no sound effects so read at your own pace.

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²¹ The man beneath me spat out another mouthful of blood as he writhed on the ground, clutching his stomach with his hands from where Levi had just kicked him. Frustrated from his continued silence, Levi landed a kick to his face, red scraping across his jaw. The hunter coughed, Levi kneeling down to grab him by the shirt and lift him up.

I crossed my arms impatiently, looking down at the beaten and bleeding hunter. Levi punched him across the face, knocking one of his teeth out, which flew out of the cell.

"Anha qaf yer jin dis qaf, govak! Fin ajjin yeri hake? Finne ajjin Virsallo?

("I asked you a simple question, you fucker!") Levi yelled, backhanding the hunter. ("What's your name? Where's Virsallo?")

Instead of answering, the hunter just coughed up more blood, this time on Levi's shirt. Even though I could tell Levi was absolutely disgusted and wanted to leave to clean himself, he pushed himself to keep interrogating.

"Astat us yeri hake."

("Tell us your name.")

"M... Moro..." The hunter said weakly, leaning back into the wall as he threw his head back, his eyes closing. Levi looked up at me with shining eyes - we were making progress. Anything would be progress, as we were already at this for days.

"Where's Virsallo? Where's your base?" I asked sternly, crouching down to Moro's level, Levi translating my words to the man. The bearded warrior opened his eyes slowly and his gaze wandered my body, a smirk growing on his face.

"Anha zalat esazhalat maan she Vaes Dothrak," Moro laughed, interrupting himself with a cough.

Of course, I was unable to understand him, as he was speaking Dothraki. Since Virsallo was a Khal to a Dothraki tribe, almost all of his men only spoke their native language. Very few were able to speak English or Draconian. Therefore, communicating with them was hard enough.

Luckily, I had Levi, who as a teenager, studied the language and culture, of what was once thought extinct. He had come to help translate every time I visited the prisoner, but we had no luck, as he would never say anything.

"What did he say?" I asked, placing my hand on Levi's shoulder.

"I wish I could take you back to the City of the Dothraki," Levi translated, tilting his head as he looked at Moro's pathetic state, but somehow, he was still looking as confident as ever, staring me down with an evil smirk.

"Īlon kisha ahileki yera k'athmajizari," The warrior continued.

I looked at Levi, raising my eyebrows slightly as if to ask him to translate, but something changed in his eyes, and he hesitated when he opened his mouth, as if he was thinking whether or not he should say it out loud.

"Majin hash zhille athzinari yeri vekha, hash kisha vazhaki ekh hrazefaan kishi."

Levi's grip on Moro's shirt loosened, and he leaned back slightly, his eyes darkening in seconds. Worried, I shook Levi's shoulder, shouting desperately.