Queen Helaena the Cruel

Chapter 3: Scourger

"The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers." - Carl Jung

Fifteen Days After Jaehaerys' Death

Thirteenth Day of Blood's Torture

Helaena made her way to the dungeons, sneaking past guards and servants alike. As she stalked down the hall of the dungeons, she noted how dark, empty, and dirty everything was.

To match her.

Her empty mind and her stained hands.

She arrived at the cell holding the man who went by Blood.

Blood. Her son's blood as his head fell to the floor.  Blood. Her blood as she picked at her cuticles and nails until they split and broke. Blood. Her Targaryen blood that allowed her to ride a dragon. Blood. Her Targaryen blood that gave her prohetic dreams. Blood. Her Targaryen blood that was cursed with madness.

Her Targaryen blood. It was a curse.

If she wasn't a Targaryen, her son wouldn't have been killed. If she wasn't a Targaryen, her son wouldn't have been born at all.

She entered the cell to find Blood chained to the brick wall by his wrists. He looked up and she noted his busted lip and two black eyes. It looked as if he also had a broken nose.

Helaena took a closer look at his hands and upon further inspection realized that most of his fingernails were removed.

There were lacerations on his throat and wrists as well as bruises littering his torso and arms. One shoulder looked as if it had been dislocated and hung at an awkward angle.

Helaena stared at him blankly, her hands clenching into fists.

"Well, look who it is. The pitiful whore Queen. Come to pray for me, have you?" Blood taunted.

Helaena tilted her head before lifting her skirts slightly.

Blood watched her curiously. "Want to fuck me, is that it? Is your husband not as good as they say?"

Helaena glanced at him sharply before pulling out a dagger that was concealed in her skirts.

Blood's eyes widened. "Now hold on there. What do you plan on doing with that? Surely such a pretty little thing doesn't have the guts to stab me."

Helaena stalked closer to him until she was right in front of him. She looked down at him with narrowed eyes, before bringing the knife up to rest at his neck.

"Not to stab you, no," Helaena stated.

Blood sighed out in relief.

"But I can do this," Helaena said.

Before he knew it, Helaena had slit his throat from one side to the other in one fluid motion. Blood sprayed her dress and face.

Blood choked on his own fluids, sputtering and coughing before ceasing to move. He hung limply from the chains.

Helaena placed the dagger back at his throat and began to saw from side to side. Side to side. Side to side. Blood's head lopped to the floor, rolling for a few moments before stilling.

Laughter bubbled up out of Helaena's throat. She was positively giddy. Her nerves were on fire and there was a deranged twinkle in her eyes.

"Dragon's dagger to the Lamb's throat. Slice. Slice. Slice," Helaena sang.