Maethor dragged herself up the ladder, the pain in her neck so strong that she was barely able to think. Strong enough, however, that she knew /he/ was gone. She hauled herself over the edge of the roof and collapsed in a heap, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. //She'd// fought against the Dragonking. She'd not given up nor given in, unlike //him//. Someone tapped her shoulder and Maethor found the strength to open one eye. A fuzzy blond head bobbed above her, big brown eyes blinking deeply. She gave a soft groan and rolled over, still clutching her aching head in her hands. "Whaddaya want, Worth?" The human girl motioned to her open mouth. "Food?" Maethor heaved a sigh. The world wouldn't leave her alone. All she wanted to do now was curl up into a ball and sleep the pain away, but she was caring for humans. Her. Caring. For... humans. Muttering softly under her breath, she crossed over to a pile of rags and earthenware and began rummaging through them, finally emerging with a piece of bread. She dusted it off and tossed it to Worth, who looked at it gingerly. "It's all I've got." said Maethor in an apologetic, slightly slurred voice, feeling strangely guilty. Guilty? Why? She didn't need to care about anyone other than herself- everyone else was stupid. And why was she giving up the last piece of food to this idiot child who couldn't even talk? The feyrie slumped back down, her back against the edge of the roof, staring at her gloved hands. It had been so long since /he/'d shone any signs of stirring. She'd tentatively hoped that she was strong enough to resist him now, or that he was dead. But no. ~~~~ People aren't meant to be in cages. It does things to them. It made Maethor feel like an animal on display, trapped and forced unwillingly into submission, poked at if she cried. "It's going to be alright, little warrior." Ascar knelt by Maethor, touching her black eye. The chains on his wrists clinked and she looked up at him, wondering dully what he'd done to get the cut that ran from his ear to his jaw, matting his dark hair with dried silver blood. But she trusted him. Outside the tiny, cramped cage they'd been forced into, the guards prowled watchfully, waiting for the command from their master. "It's going to be okay." Ascar whispered as the guards unlocked the cage and dragged the siblings forwards. He shielded her from the guards with his arms, holding her close to him. His heartbeat was fast and irregular as they were led forwards and Maethor shrank closer, pressing her face into Ascar's torn tunic as the gleeful, exultant voice of the Dragonking rang towards them. "My two favourite pets." Maethor wondered why Ascar was shaking so hard as the two of them were deposited in a heap at the Dragonking's feet. Her brother let go of her, drawing himself up to his full height and facing their tormentor, his face tortured with emotion. "I'm going to ask you a very, very simple question." purred the one-time Prince of Errilyia, stepping down from his throne so that he was eye-to-eye with the young feyrie man. The stone set within his silver circlet (made to be a mockery of Enoriem's, as was everything else in this accursed place) gleamed malevolently with hidden power as he leaned forwards so that their noses were almost touching. "The question is, do you submit?" The back of Ascar's neck was flushed, and his hand rose to cover the reddened splotch. Maethor squinted dully at him- Ascar only ever did that when he was feeling guilty. She waited for her brother's answer. It would be no, of course, like the many other times they'd been asked that question. So why was he hesitating? ~~~~ Ascar absently touched the back of his neck, staring down at Much, who was goggling at him, literally slack-jawed. "Panther... Panther's..." words seemed to fail him. "Feyrie?" Ascar asked gently. "Yes. She is, and always has been, even if she's forgotten." "But she's short. And grumpy. And sarcastic. And mean. And she slapped Worth." Much complained, looking around. Ascar could see him relaxing, could see him beginning to trust: that was the problem with children. They trusted too easily. Especially when they were complaining about someone. "Who's Worth?" he asked, forcing his smile to look fatherly and interested. "My sister. She doesn't talk... and Panther thought that she was being rude." Much's eyes fell to the floor. "Doesn't talk?" Ascar's fingers drummed on the tabletop and he leaned slightly forwards, interested. "She can't." Much's eyes flamed as he glanced back up, almost defiantly. "But that doesn't mean she's stupid! She's amazing! She's ten times smarter than me, and does everything right... I wish I could." "I never insulted her." Ascar reminded him, retying his hair over his pointed ears, though the mask still lay on the table untouched. "Have others?"
Much slumped. "...yes. But it's also because we're twins, and twins are unlucky, and..." his voice trailed off. "I wish she could talk." "How interesting." Ascar said genuinely. Here was something the boy clearly wanted badly. "She has never spoken a word in all her life?" "Nooo...." said Much, his eyes sliding sideways. "Not really." *Aha. The plot thickens.* "Look," Ascar said quietly, "I think we can make a deal."
