The Stars Give No Hope

Three

He was freezing. The cold coursing through his limbs. He never knew where it came from; probably starvation. It reminded him of her again, saying she was a girl of ice and snow, and he shivered, not knowing the cause of it this time.

He remembered, against his will, how Aimery got the clever idea to make him plunge the knife. It still wouldn't make sense; it felt like it was all his fault, but Thorne kept telling him it wasn't, it couldn't be. He knew his traitorous limbs moved without him telling them to, but—

No, no. It was his fault.

He saw her again, and looked away, shivering. As he did, his eyes landed on Thorne, curled and silent, away from reality, which usually happened after his Punishment Hours.

He was so much stronger than him.

Maybe it was for the better, killing her, killing Winter, than having to torture her. Right? Right. After all, he was always quick.

He wondered where everyone else was. What they were going through. Who else was dead. He felt like blaming that princess wanna-be for everything, but Winter was already in danger with her. The world was already in danger, something he'd never cared about until now. Winter would have.

There goes the guilt again, tearing him apart. That's probably how everyone feels like these days.

He wondered how, for the first time in forever, his thoughts were coherent. It's probably better like this, too, even though it hurts more. At least he wouldn't feel crazy.
...
The burning that came with the missing parts and limbs she did not like. It simmered in some places, but it just burned in others, making her want to scream. But they had also taken her voice-box, or whatever let her talk. Her sensor was also greatly damaged, which meant she could only see black and white, nothing else. Like a malfunctioning portscreen. And it burned.

Different guards would come up to slowly ruin her, the beautiful escort-droid body that Thorne was so kind to give to her, but she could never understand why Levana had a preference on a certain guard to do it. He never said a word, but sometimes he grunted with the force it took him to tear her apart; she was resilient, but he was strong. As soon as she heard his voice, though, she instantly filled with hatred. He must be very disgusted now, and wanted him to go through all of that revulsion.

Almost stronger than her hatred was how she thought of how she looked like. She imagined her even more ugly than Levana, and that was a lot to say. But even stronger than all those feelings were her grief. Because who wouldn't know of those news? Levana rubbed it in front of everybody, especially the other "traitors". Mocking her, and Emperor(King?) Kaito, and Wolf, and whoever she didn't hear in the place she was sprawled in, about the cyborg, the impostor, the traitor. She was pretty sure there was a fireplace there, because she could hear the flames sometimes, licking wood or skin.

She could guess that Levana didn't think that making him see his friends being tortured and constantly reminding him of Cinder's death was enough. She was so utterly and downright insane that she felt like scorching his skin. Did she hide it with a glamour too? Was she so angry that she would do more than that, behind everyone's back? Did she do this with the others, with Wolf? She had a sneaking suspicion she would do something like this to Wolf, too.

All of it always caused her guilt, being broken beyond repair, Cinder, the Earthens down there, Kai, everything. It all made her feel so useless.

And after a long time of being made useless and broken, Levana got bored of her. She was actually grateful for it.
...
Scarlet had multiple reasons to hate it here. She was back in the menagerie, and it was filled with too many memories. It seemed to be so close to the throne room as well, because it let her hear every scream from there, most recognizable, others she knew where from the people who helped them, the other "traitors", as Levana liked to call them.

She missed Winter. It filled her with helplessness being down here. Jacin had set her free, made her take Winter with him. They had escaped, they had gotten sick, they got healed, they survived the battlefield until the Head Thaumaturge wanted to—

She wasn't going to think about it. She didn't just miss Winter, though, she missed everyone, even the old Ze'ev that she learned to trust, after losing it twice; that she had learned to love. She thought they needed each other, and Winter herself had confirmed it, that it was love.

She asked herself if it was a glamour, the thoughts moving through her head right now. And shook hear head at the thought. She was annoyed with how love struck she still was. It was all an act, even now, wasn't it? His eyes grew unfeeling, right before he struck. Every time.

No, her heart told her. You know it's a glamour, what you're feeling and what he's doing. Can't you have a little hope?

Hope. So scarce. In fact, there wasn't any. How could she have hope on someone who had betrayed her so many times?
...