ℌ𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 ∥ xavier thorpe

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥

Hecate32 years ago

"Get up, Hecate. If you were strong enough, you wouldn't be on the floor right now," my father scoffed as if he hadn't just cut my whole back with a flick of his shadows.

It stung badly, but I've had worse. A single cut was nothing compared to my father's wicked whims when the absynthe was already coursing his blood. The knowledge of me being his daughter was so profoundly tucked away that he looked at me the same way he looked at the girls that come to seek penance from the High Leader of the Night Coven.

Penance, another word he took the true meaning off.

"Just leave. I'm sick of looking at your face," he groans, waving me off.

Sometimes I imagine how good it would feel to just slit his throat open, to bathe myself in his blood, but that would be foolish because if I killed him, there would be no way of getting my mother free, not when the bastard had linked his blood to the lock.

The murderous thoughts feel like wildfire inside me, and it's not long before a strong tether of shadows escapes from me and strikes Faustus back in a similar manner to what he did to me, the blood already soaking into his black button-up.

No words before he lunges for me, gripping me by the neck and pinning me to the ground, his gloved hands coated in nightshade essence, the sweet intoxicating scent of the poisonous flower burning up my nostrils and setting the skin of my neck on fire.

I trash against his grip, but the lock on my neck, the weight, and the use of the nightshade render me weak to the point I can feel myself pass out, but eventually, I manage to sink my nails into my palms, the tingling pain keeping me awake.

"Once I kill your mother, I'll use you to give me an heir. That's why the dark lord gave you to me, the perfect vessel to carry out my lineage, not a woman to uphold my heritage but a cunt to carry my future heir," he snarls in my face, the hatred and disgust coating each word that comes out of him.

It wasn't the first time he had said that. In fact, it was becoming a daily thing now, and I only dreaded the moment he stopped talking and made good on his words because if there was something I had learned about Faustus, it is that he does makes good on his word. He doesn't threaten. He lets you stew on your fear and panic before striking.

But panic wasn't a known concept for me. Panic and fear were things I had stopped experiencing a long time ago, before my tenth birthday for sure, because when Faustus gave me the lashing of my life as a birthday gift, I remember how my legs didn't tremble at the sight of the whip or how I just inhaled and tied my own hands reading myself for the beat.

The idea he couldn't scare me anymore pissed him so much that my whole back was raw from his anger.

"Go get cleaned up, we'll have dinner in half an hour, and if you're not ready by the time I get to the dining room, I'll drag you down and take you to the table. Wear a dress. I have little interest in removing your clothes," he frowns at me and gets up.

Cold, sweet, and soothing, the water caresses my raw neck skin as it patches up slowly while I mutter the healing incantation and soak my neck thoroughly.

Dinner and incest, the idea of my father touching me sends me vomiting onto the sink, it's disgusting really, but I couldn't do anything until he got my mom out of the tower. Once she was out, I could carry my revenge.

It was a simple plan, really. The tricky part was having my mother unlinked from the bastard, and since I had no idea what kind of spell he had used, I'd do more harm than good if I tried to unlink them or kill him before I was 100% sure my mother was free.