Seven Souls |Updates Fridays|

11 Vienice Aramon

Trigger Warning: Graphic Torture

_Vienice Aramon_

He had eventually gone quiet by the time they brought him to the dungeon. Vienice had been trying to graciously accept what was going to happen to him for the next few months. Trying to save energy for the screams that would have no doubt be leaving his lips soon. The thought made him shiver.

They brought his shackles to wood and clicked him in, spreading him out in an X shape. A tight one at that. His arms already ached in protest of the uncomfortable position. His legs too, were separated and locked in. He pulled at his restraints with a huff. One of the men who had strapped him in gave out a small chuckle.

"You won't be getting free of those so easily." He said now, sounding almost cocky. "And if you do... well... I don't know what kind of sad saps you killed over in Vangerbore but here in Winters-veil, we don't go down so easily. Especially to an unarmed child."

"If an unarmed child can take out an entire city, including all the guards, what do you think it'll do to you, Merit?" Another guard spoke up, slapping the man across the top of his head.

"He got pulled into here real easy- in fact I heard the guards who picked him up outside of Vangerbore had even less of a struggle with him!" Merit, the guard defended himself.

"It doesn't matter, just do your jobs." A third guard spoke up.

The next thing Vienice knew was that his shirt was being torn from his body by force, only to be discarded on the nasty floor. The dungeon had no windows, and it seemed to be below ground. His last cell had been musty and uncleanly, but this was on a whole other level.

There was a sickly moisture to the cold air, the smell of a dangerous mold following it. The kind of stench that caught in your throat and clung there. No doubt most prisoners died from the exposure than from the torture. The thought was unsettling.

His eyes caught one of the men grabbing a whip. He felt his heart pick up its pace in response, but he kept his face stoic. He did not want to give into fear so easily. He did not want to give into these bloody wenches so easily either. No doubt they would pick him apart like vultures if given the chance.

Vienice watched with dreaded anticipation as the man walked closer with is whip, cracking it in the air for good measure. "How many lashes should we give him boys? One for every person he murdered?" The guard proposed, and there was agreements from the others. He cocked his arm back, readying the blow. "This first one is for my sister, who was a resident of the city!" He growled out before swinging the whip full force at Vienice's chest.

He grit his teeth hard, and took the hit, the sickening slap against his skin ringing in his ears. He grunted with the next swing, the pain momentarily blinding him. Still he would not scream, even as the next blow came. His eyes allowed tears to make their way from his squinting eyelids, but it was no choice of his.

"Why don't you scream? I may take pity and go lighter on you," The guard offered before another slap rang out.

Vienice jerked back every time, sweat dripping off his body despite the cold. He said nothing as the man continued to berate his body with more whippings. His eyes were glued closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He

could feel the blood seeping down his chest and stomach slowly. It was warm against his cool skin. Pain continued to light up his vision as the lashings continued, each seemingly worse than the last.

He started to gasp out, so close to screams, but desperate to hold them back. He would shake his head and hold his breath, bite his cheek and tongue until they bled, and clench his jaw until it ached, all to hold in his pained screams.