The Cruel Crown (A Young Elites Fanfiction)

Teren Santoro

He's been locked up in this goddy dungeon for what feels like a millennium. The squealing of his broken, cracked fingernails against the dull, damp concrete marks the sixteenth day he's been locked away. Sixteen days and he's lost his sanity, sixteen days since Giulietta Valenciano became deceased by his own hand, sixteen days since he was removed from the Inquisition, sixteen says since Adelina demanded his head, sixteen days and he still hasn't evaded the castle dungeons. 

No guards stand statute in front of the swirling bars of cast iron that create a baroque design of an Inquisition Axis emblem. The dual crossed sword crest glimmers bright against the lackluster lighting, with hints of golden rust, because the prisoners that were sealed away by key in this oubliette were enemies to the Axis, but now that is not the case. I am only an opposer to her Axis of new power.

Teren formerly led the competent and skilled soldiers but now sits chained in dense shackles inside the dungeon that he used to rule over.

The recurring servant dressed in frosted white arrives boding a simplistic meal consisting of wheat bread, cooked unseasoned carrots, and a clear glass of water. He is served two meals a day; one for breakfast and the other is dinner. He rations out his food between breakfast and dinner because he is her prisoner; her hopes must be for him to starve himself.

No, I will keep you, until the day I choose not to. You have destroyed and harmed all that is dear to me. In return, I want you to know what that feels like. I will not kill you. I will keep you alive. I will torture you until your soul is dead. Adelina's poisonous voice taints his mind, her threatening words etched into his thoughts. Does Adelina not know of how she stole what he held dear? She illusionized Giulietta's markings which angered him and ended in his dagger pressing through her heart which is the only thing he truly yearned for. She stole Giulietta Valenciano's life, his queen, his everything. That villain is selfish, she does not even take a second thought to reflect of how she murders and kills so easily. But he is not any different than she.

Adelina has not delivered her promise quite yet, perhaps she has forgotten, or perhaps she purposefully forgets.

Until your soul is dead.

Oh, mi Adelinetta, my soul has been hallow for years, I forsake it ages ago. You can break me no more. He smirks, for she has no way to control him through physical inflictments or excruciating memories; he no longer harbors a shattering point, his sword cannot be broken.

All Young Elites were drastically affected by the plague in the form of a lifelong curse. Many died and the ones who remained strong and fought for life were saved by Fortuna, the Roman goddess of luck, but might as well have succumbed because life with defilements is not better than death, through his eyes he should have died that night. Though, not all malfettos became empowered ones, they still must endure their lives in fear of being caught or even feared by others unlike them.

But carnage and havoc have been placed in the hands of all the Elites who emerged scathed bearing intimidating abilities. Warfare and bloodshed cannot be terminated now.

She drops the wooden tray and nods. He got a splinter from this retched wood earlier. He looks up, barely meeting her eyes and nods; showing some hospitality is the least he can do for a servant women under Adelina's royal thumb.

But he not only craves Adelina's death, but as well the Daggers before he feels any resolve. And after they die, I will kill myself.

Creaks and cracks are sounding, small thumps are caused by light treading steps which inch closer. Who must bother him now?

It is not just one set of steps but two. Two faces come into peripheral view, revealing the mysterious duo footsteps. He sees a face he recognizes all too well and another he has never had the pleasure of meeting. His simper is filled with coy rather than joy.

The girl's face to the right of the distinct cruel queen is split into dark and light shades on complete different ends of the spectrum. It looks as if the upper slanted portion of her face is her pearl white ivory skin and the bottom half is the shadow which is dark as stygian iron. She must be a malfetto and more than likely an Elite soughted by the Roses.

"Teren." Her sharp voice fills his ears. "Get up. Now."

There were covert guards sprinkled around this prison because four guards are released from the shadows to escort him out.

The echoing sounds of chains being released, prison bars squealing as the lock becomes free, and the sound of heavy footsteps coming to retrieve him. He will submiss, until he can fight back. He owns the physical strength to kill these weak guards and the girls but without a sword to flaunt, it's not worth it.

"Wipe that smug look off your face. Your stride is too long, your thoughts are too confident," Adelina barks.

I burnt all those kindling flames of joy inside me. I have no will to live, but I am sure not going to die here.

"Who's the girl? mi Adelinetta. Or should I call you Your Majesty?" he says caustically daring to mock her.

"I can speak for myself, thank you. Call me Nyx, Nyx Rosario. We've come to see how well you take a beating." Her smile is freakingly odd.

"Yes, it will be the perfect spectacle to watch as we see your blood drip to the floor. And besides, your Elite power should keep you alive." She snickers and grins like she's mad, he won't contradict that.

The brute force removes him from the shackles and he is locked up again between two guard's arms. They have swords hanging at their sides.

What is that Nyx girl doing with Adelina. Nyx doesn't exactly scream die for her loyal, not like Magiano, Adelina's lover for a companion. He must learn more. Perhaps, she might assist Teren in escape. She must have an ability and would most definitely be a fool if she were to reveal that to him.

"Treat it as a secret." That's what my father told me once I became a flawed malfetto. He said just to be lucky to be alive, keep your power to yourself, and then I appeased and let him train me in the art of swords; I haven't failed his wishes quite yet, I'm not dead yet. "And never show weakness to your opponent."

Why is this memory resurfacing now? Adelina is staring oddly to me. "Listen up, Teren Santoro," she snaps. "I will enjoy this."

Her eye burns with infinite fury, her dead eye still not healed because it never will be.

"Why aren't you using your illusion power to instate my fear, dear?"

"Do not call me dear," I snap. He does not take affect on what I have said.

"Pointless," I say. "Just as long as I see you in pure anguish and hear you begging to die, I'm satisfied," Adelina says, her tone staying firm. "I still have not chosen to release you to the Underworld. You will know once I choose to torture you no more, but when I am finished with you, you will harbor no soul."

"Why not kill me now?" he toys with the glint of a smile.

She whips her head back and their eyes meet, Adelina's ablaze.

"Your demise is near, Teren Santoro; even I feel sorrow for that I willn't be able to see your soul become the color of stygian and corrupted by death itself. But I'll see you there." I flash my own cruel smile. "I will be the one to choose when you die."

Teren replies with his lips curling up to form a tight snarl, "Remember this, mi Adelinetta: Young Elites were deemed to live young and doomed to die young."

A coat-chilling silence wraps them all in a blanket. Adelina must be ruminating on a reply. She has none. Teren goes quiet as she orders the guards to continue taking him to this mysterious place to be beaten bloody. Adelina's footsteps follow closely along with her new . . . friend.

He laughs with ridicule inside his conscious. And you, Adelina, have sealed those words.