The Stars Give No Hope

Two

Kai had shut his eyes as he heard a duet of screams. One of pain and one of horror. But he was forced to open his eyes and watch. He may have been King, but His Sweet deeply enjoyed his suffering. He was in on the plan of dethroning her, after all.

Thorne raised and brought down the whip too fast, not letting Cress breathe or have time to prepare for the next whipping. It was done without mercy. And he wondered if she would one day die from the pain.

It would break Thorne.

His nails dug into his palms as more blood coursed down her petite chest and back, nose and mouth, as her screams would sound more gurgled. Until he couldn't hear anything, and was soon drowning. That feeling that angst and helplessness and grief all at once brought to him. His vision blurred, either from tears or from the panic. His lungs and throat closed up, and nausea caught up to him too fast.

His eyes begged to close, to at least blink, the burning in them becoming unbearable.

He wanted to scream, but nothing came out.

Thorne looked as dazed as he felt, tears mirroring Cress's, every limb except his traitorous arm trembling. He was probably drowning too.

But soon Cress's screams and sobs were turning to groans, and all of a sudden, Thorne stopped.

He could breathe again and he swallowed the air. Thorne collapsed to the floor, convulsing, breathing heavily. Cress crawled away and tried to cover her chest with her hands as she lay, but relief was written over her face.

It was over.

Guards came up too soon, he couldn't count them, and they were both roughly taken away.

"I hope you enjoyed it, My King."

She said it as if what they watched was one of those Second Era plays that Cress had enjoyed so much.

But her voice calmed him down to a point that seemed unnatural. It didn't last, though, as a deep grief came over him. He loved Cinder, he knew that, but with every glamour he went through, he doubted it more and more.

"You haven't answered me," she said, her tone melodious, but he could hear a warning beneath it.

He had to please her, even if he didn't enjoy what happened at all.

"Of course, My Sweet."
...
Wolf had carried Cress through the hallway gently once no one saw him. She shuddered on his arms, and he didn't know if she recognized him.

The program said that he would be next, for the Punishment Hours, either to torture Scarlet, or to kill innocent people that had assisted in the revolution and barely survived the war.

He seriously hoped it was the latter. He would kill thousands if it meant keeping Scarlet from harm. Even if he hated the taste of blood, even if every time he had to tear their limbs apart, bite their throats, listen to their pleading sobs, and slowly lose himself more and more.

How ironic, that just when he had found her, something worse was happening to her than getting lost or kidnapped.

He was hurting her.

Sometimes her anger was an advantage, but it usually wasn't. Now was not the time in which it was an advantage.

She kept forgetting it was her, in her anger; If she believed it was his fault, then he believed it too. The hatred was always directed at him. The profanity was always directed at him. As he finally reached Cress's cell, on another hall, not far from the one where Thorne was, he tried for the umpteenth time to convince himself that it was all a glamour.

He tried to tell himself that Scarlet did not hate him, over and over again.

But he knew that wasn't true.
...
Scarlet shivered, not bothering to fight as she was taken from the menagerie by the arms. She felt weak, not knowing if it was from dread or malnutrition. Soon, the throne room doors were in sight, and her hands were trembling. Her hair was matted and frizzy, not unlike Cress's from when they met in the D-COMM; her hoodie dirty and clinging to her skin, her skin covered in dried blood, soon to be infected, and her hands and wrists looked skeletal.

As she was shoved in, she saw that Wolf was already there, looking as dreadful as she was. But soon her heart filled with hatred, and she suddenly remembered. He had taken her grandmother, he had tortured her father, and he got in her life to ruin it, to get some information on something she would never know, something she had nothing to do with.

If it hadn't been for him and her sympathy, she wouldn't have been in this mess.

Her mind filled up, one thought after the other, until she felt she had the strength to kill him for all he'd done to her, but he caught up to her already. And the pain began. The one reason why she felt fear stronger than anger. He bit and punched and clawed, without mercy, until she knew she would end up with more scars than he would ever have.

She yelped and whimpered, but never dared to scream. She would keep what was left of her dignity, and would never let him enjoy her pain. At least there was no one else they could hurt. Her grand-mère was already dead, because of him. The only thing that hurt was the betrayal. She was naïve and stupid to ever believe that a Lunar Special Operative would take pity on her, would want to help her.

For that, she was paying the price.

She could tell he was enjoying her blood, licking it off his lips as if he hadn't eaten in days. That's what it probably feels like when those monsters hadn't eaten for two hours.

Her mind was far away, because she was used to the pain, used to feel it and react to it, but always thinking of something else.

Scarlet didn't know how much time had passed, but soon it was over. After an eternity, it was over. She immediately looked to the Queen, blood and hair and tears blocking her view, but she could make out a distinctive mad look, enjoying the show and probably wishing it would never end, but satisfied anyway.

She probably doesn't know Scarlet doesn't care much of the pain anymore. Only on making that big, bad wolf pay.

...
AN: I included three POV's because they were too short. When it came to Thorne, in the first chapter, I wrote more than I had planned. The words just came out.