Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

'twas bored. want some cliche fantasy drabble? y/y?

A silent scream ripped through the night, the cry of a soul in pain. Jagged lightning tore the sky in two, while the thunder sounded like the ominous footfalls of a massive army.
In a shadowy glade in the midst of a dark forest was a man. He was heavily chained, sitting on the ground. In his eyes burned a dark fire, a mixture of rage and hate and anger. His hair lay dark against his forehead, and ruby droplets of blood welled from a cut on his cheek. His mouth was a grim line, and his chains rattled softly as he shifted, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position.
Another man watched his prisoner from across a campfire, sitting on a fallen log, chin in his hand. The flickering flames threw eerie shadows across his face, making him look substantial yet not really there. He had blond hair, which made a stark contrast with his dark robes, and his eyes were cerulean, the color of a calm sea. He stood up, his robes rustling softly, and walked over to the other side of the clearing. He was younger than his prisoner, but the power that emanated from him went beyond his years.
The man in chains glared at the one approaching; the younger man looked down expressionlessly at his prisoner. Finally, the younger man spoke. “Come now,” he said. “You could just tell me what I want. Then I will let you go. You will not have to suffer any more pain.” The older man raised his eyes to his captor, black with rage and full of pain from the betrayal of one he once knew.
“I will never tell you what you ask,” he said, spitting out the words like they hurt him. “For to do so would risk destroying all I fight for. You have asked me this before, and you know my answer will never change.” The younger man stuck his hand under his prisoner's chin, forcing his face upward and making him look into his eyes.
“Stubborn thing, aren't you?” his captor said, almost to himself. “You may not tell me,” the man said to his prisoner. “But what is not freely given can be taken,” he said, his voice suddenly changing from persuasive to venomous. “There are ways to tear the information from your mind. None of them are gentle. And all of them hurt.” The older man looked down at the ground, his face inscrutable. “You are being a fool,” the younger man snarled. “I will find out anyway. The King will learn of what pitiful plans you have made to stop him.”
“You seem to be convincing yourself of that,” the prisoner said quietly. The other man whirled around and landed a stinging blow on the older man's cheek. His prisoner barely blinked.
“Tell me what I want!” The older man stared at him, his eyes dark and unreadable.
“No.”
“Well, then,” the younger man replied, barely restraining his fury, “I will have to take you to the King myself. And you will break much more easily there.”