The Path to Redemption

𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓊𝑔𝑒

↞･:*✵*:･↠

A scream erupted from a room nearby, so loud that the lights quivered for a moment as the voice continued to cry until it suddenly ceased.

A man sat within a lone cell, his hands bound in front of his body by thick pieces of metal. His greasy slicked back hair was strewn in front of his face in a disarray; his clouded icy eyes scanned everything, every little detail. In the dim light the cell provided he was unable to see much, but he cared not.

From the room beside him, a voice could be heard shouting a name into some sort of monitor. Usually, the man within the cell would scoff at the orders the other was giving to the people out and about, no longer confined to the walls of this drastic place—but now he cocked a brow. He listened intently, awaiting a response. When none came, a huff was heard, and soon a figure came from the doorway.

The man who appeared from the room was about the other's age, with short dark brown hair that was parted to the left side. His dark eyes flashed with worry as he stormed past the cell, the scar trailing from his left eye to his top lip making him even more daunting. The man within the cell watched as the other passed with a hidden gaze, curious as to why he had known that name. Her name.

A door could be heard slamming, and the male sunk farther into the shadows, twisting the chains connecting the cuffs on his hands in an attempt to make fun out of the depressing situation he was in.

A moment later, the doors of the cell flew open with a clang, their hinges screeching with old age. The man was taken aback, staring straight forward past the now opened door. He narrowed his gaze as thoughts whirred and whizzed through his intelligent mind. Was this some sort of trick? A trap? He had attempted escape before--many times before, and all of those times it'd been impossible. Yet here he was now, a way out placed right before him. He could already feel his body begin to grow cold as his ability slowly returned, no longer muted by the cell. Now that the door was open, there was nothing holding him back.

Deciding he might as well try to escape while he still could, the man stood, his figure tall and strong as he made his way through the cell doors. He frowned, now even more baffled as he started for the exit. He had been awaiting this moment for years.

He had always dreamed of escaping, but he'd never imagined it this way. No, it usually seemed far more intense and connected to a serious, blood-spewing battle. But this worked, too.

He was close to the end of the hallway when he stopped in his tracks, memories of before flooding back. Turning on his heel slowly, the male started towards the room he had seen the other exit before. He entered the small study that contained a desk, seat, and little microphone before he scanned the premise, searching for any source to allow him to believe the name he had heard was true and not just some figment of his imagination.

Noticing a picture hanging on the wall beside the devices, the man took a few steps towards it as the small mic buzzed dully. Squinting, the man inspected the image; his eyes widening when realization hit.

It was her. He knew it. He knew her face anywhere, even if she looked far more mature compared to back then. Her electric eyes and silky brown hair, rippling down her shoulders elegantly, were unmistakable even after so many years.

She looked serious in the photo, as if it had been taken without her consent. He did remember that side of her, though it was a vague memory now. He was used to her bright manner; but somehow, he liked this version better, even if it was just a photograph. She had the aura of a queen, one that deserved to be with someone full of power. Someone like him.

Clenching his fists, the restraints against the man's hands began to stiffen with cold. Frost soon dotted the metal as the male stared down at the shackles, his flaring a brighter blue, flashing dangerously. The metal began to crack as the temperature against the bindings was brought down rapidly. Soon enough there were big enough cracks that the restraints fell to the ground with a clatter, revealing a pair of pale hands that were tinted a bluish-purple, dotted with ice.

The man smirked, his icy eyes now back on the picture. Slicking his hair back, the man coolly stepped forwards, gripping the paper before tearing it off the wall, then folding it and putting it into his pocket.

He had lost hope a while back. During the attack on Arcadia, to be specific. He had thought there was no reason to escape now, for where would there be to go? What would there be to do? Especially without someone by his side. But now he knew.

She was out there, and he was going to find her, even if it meant tearing the world apart in the process. He was going to do many things. Build an army, get revenge on those who harmed him, let those who mocked and taunted feel his wrath. But he was going to do much more knowing she was out there, too.

For now he was going to take her as his love, and they were going to rule together, with a fleet of others like them at their side, causing all who were not special to feel just as bad as they had been made to feel for being different.

She would be his, whether she liked it or not.

His Queen, his Partner.

His Ariane.