Kings And Queens

Myths Hold Truths

Gwen tried to count the minutes, the hours, but she forgot them all when the screaming finally stopped. Her heart feared the worse, putting her ear against the door she tried to listen for anything.

When she heard the footsteps she scrambled backward just in time for the door to slam open and Stiles was thrown in.

Blood soaked through his tunic, slashes decorating his skin.

Without another word, the guards locked the door again.

Gwen kneeled by his side, gently turning him onto his back he let out a grunt from pain. One of his eyes was swollen shut, the blood on his mouth dried. Showing it was an early wound.

They may have been done for the night, but she knew that it was only the beginning for him.

During the night it started to grow so cold. Stiles was shivering and Gwen hugged him to her chest, offering what little body warmth she could. He had already lost so much blood, it was a miracle that he was still alive.

And when the morning came, they took him back. Healing him only so they could start their work again.

Stiles grunted as he felt the knife cut across his ribs. The first blood of a long day.

The Thane looked at Stiles, expecting a plea for mercy but there was none. He only glared back.

"You guys already tired?" Stiles asked, lightheaded from the severe blood loss. He didn't even know how he was still conscious.

"How do you do it?" The Thane asked,"With stand so much pain?"

"I've been through worse," Stiles replied.

"Indeed you must have," He said, nodding to someone behind Stiles.

He felt something scalding hot press against his shoulder blade and he screamed, the smell of burning flesh filling the room.

When it was pulled away, Stiles was gasping for air,

"What is your name?"

There was no way Stiles's was going to give them his real name so instead he said the first one that came to mind,"Hercules."

"Hercules?" The Thane repeated,"From the language of my ancestors."

"My parents had interesting choices," Stiles said while slightly confused that he didn't recognize the name of the demigod.

"Gift of Hera," The Thane translated,"What makes you a gift from the Queen of Olympus?"

Stiles didn't answer, making the Thane smirk,"I've found this tiresome kill him and fetch the girl."

A thousand thoughts passed through Stiles's head in a single moment that it took one of the guards to draw his sword to kill him.

Gwen, she would die. After a whole day of what he went through the Thane had grown impatient with the torture he was enduring.

Then he went back to the book he had read several times over. His photographic memory helping him see the phrase in his head as clear like it was in front of him.

'I am the Storm.'

With all his strength, Stiles yanked on the chains and they snapped free from the ceiling.

Whipping around, Stiles saw a sword descend and he lifted his hands and the cuffs around his wrists broke.

The Thane spun around just in time to see Stiles, his hands free, slowly stand up, a murderous rage in his eyes.

Fear unlike anything he felt in his life had him run out of the room, locking the door behind him. Stiles, still in there along with two torturers and three guards.