𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
: ̗̀➛ In 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 the younger twin of Feyre Archeron
has to fight through the thorns of roses just
to survive.
〔Azriel x oc〕
╰┈˚ · ° . slowburn!
...
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╰┈˚ · ° .NOT EVEN AN ENTIRE DAY HAD PASSED before Amarntha's amusement from the first task that Feyre had successfully completed had waned away. And in her boredom, she had commanded my presence.
The red-skinned guards escorted me back to the already familiar room down in the dungeons. It was cold and moisty and the blood stained the floor. In the middle of it there was a metal chair, this time a blue-haired faerie sat on it, bound with magic ropes. Another chair, this one much similar to a small throne, was placed near a wall, exactly where Amarantha would sit comfortably, while watching who she declared to be tortured only for her own pleasure.
Everything was just a sick show prepared perfectly for her tastes.
I was starting to think that Amarantha loved this place more than the throne room and even her own chambers for how much time she was willing to spend there.
Hours and hours passed, I switched from one blade to another, to fire and even water. I carved the skin of the faerie until her nerves were uncovered, until her vocal cords didn't healed anymore from the amount of her screaming, until she had no more blood left to spill. All of it, of an unusual blue color, stained my hands and flew down to the floor creating a bid puddle underneath the chair.
The show had ended for The Queen with the death of the fairie, but what I had done would stay with me for the rest of her life.
And I continued to think only one thought throughout the entire time. Better her than my sisters.
"What is your name? " I had whispered just before the faerie's last breath.
Layla. That was her name. And it was already scarred into my soul alongside all the other ones. I didn't care, and still, I did.
I knew that not even the time for the day to come to term, I would end up forgetting her name, just like I had already forgotten the dozens that came before the blue-haired faerie, but at least I knew who I had killed in that moment. Whose life I had taken and whose soul I had rendered.
