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sunnynwanda · 2 months

Text

Part 2

The shackles drag across the floor, filling the space with the clanking of the metal against marble. The hall is dark but warm enough to make the chained creature shiver from thermal shock, numbness being replaced with pain as his white fingers start growing red. He fists his hands, pressing his trembling lips into a thin line to dissociate from the sensations rushing through his body.

Once they reach the middle of the hall, the guards step back, allowing his body to sag to the cold floor. It’s nothing compared to the snow that he was buried in.

Someone enters the room - he can hear the guard speaking but fails to discern words. His brain must be shutting down. He uses the last of his strength to lift his head when one of the guards nudges his shoulder.

The man in front of him is already staring at him, his expression nothing short of austerity. He looks to be in the second half of his life, grey streaks lining his temples and forehead, but his features have not yet lost their sharpness. There is a small scar on the underside of his chin, only visible under intent observation, and a much more noticeable crown on his head. Oh, no.

“What are you?” The King’s voice is tense. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword, never leaving, even when he reaches out to tilt the creature’s head up with his other one. The captive gulps, afraid to speak or meet the King’s intense gaze. “What is your purpose in my land? Answer.”

“I-” he tries, but his throat seizes, clumping in to try and swallow himself up. He coughs, facing the floor once again, lips coated in blood from a wound no doubt inflicted by the guards trying to detain him. The guard on his side steps back, scared of the dark crimson poision dripping down his chin. “I didn’t know I shouldn’t be here... I didn't know where I was.”

The King raises an eyebrow at that, not convinced by the act. His kingdom has lived in peace for over eight years - ever since he reached an agreement and outlawed vishaps from entering his land. In return, humans were banned from crossing into Vishap territory for fear of never returning, which was the least of all evil for the safety of his people and, most importantly, his family. The King sighs, rubbing his temples in slow circles.

“He was found half-buried under the snow right by the Edge,” the guard that captured the young creature informs. “He did not shift when attacked.”

This caught the King by surprise, which was written quite obviously in his features. He glanced at the guard before returning his attention to the young creature still slumped at his feet. It looked young - perhaps nine or ten years of age. Too young to be sent after him or be capable of inflicting significant harm. Vishaps did not tend to leave their younglings alone if they couldn't shift yet. Unless his parents were not in the picture, that is. “What is your name, child?”

“Vanki,” His voice comes out weaker than he intended, so with another cough, the creature repeats. “My name is Vanki.”

“Vanki,” the King repeats with a nod. He motions for one of the guards to lift the boy from the floor. The guard practically picks him up, supporting him as he stands, bone-weary from days of running and hiding in the woods with no proper food or rest. Vanki doesn’t know where they are taking him, but an unconscious fear settles in the pits of his empty stomach. He knows he is too weak to put up any fight. Damn, he was too weak to so much as move when the snow started falling, so all he did was roll to the side and hug himself to keep whatever warmth he had left in his sinking heart.

“I didn’t know,” Vanki claims, panic flashing in the depths of his dark eyes. His eyes dart to the King’s face, who looks at him quizzically. “I wasn’t aware I was trespassing.”

The guard hisses for him to be quiet, but Vanki shakes his head no. He has no strength to struggle against his chains or captors, but he won’t go down without a fight if it’s the last thing he does.

“I was lost.” It comes more pleading than he intended, but that can be attributed to the frailty of his voice. Or so he hopes.

“No.” The King’s answer is plain and straightforward, his voice void of emotion. It sends a chill down Vanki's spine.

“Please,” he hates himself for begging, but the prospect of being executed or, worse, thrown into a dungeon to be tortured for public entertainment gnaws at his side, threatening to rip his ribcage open and wrench his heart out. As it is meant to be.

“You weren’t lost, you were running from someone," the statement catches Vanki off guard. The King’s tone is even, but there is something in his eyes that the boy fails to decipher. “Other vishaps chased you out. Isn’t that right?”

Stunned into silence, Vanki struggles to answer right away, terrified of what his reply may entail. The King approaches him again, standing so close that the boy can see the small scar under his chin again. He wonders if it’s one of his kind that gave it to him.

“Well?” The King prompts, cupping the boy's jaw with a warm hand. His fingers are rough but his touch is featherlight, careful not to hurt. Vanki can only muster a short nod, his eyes getting watery at the contact. For a moment, he envisions his misfortune retreating. The King sighs, seeming satisfied with the answer. “Take him away.”

“I didn’t harm anyone.” Whatever was left of the boy's resolve shatters in an instant. Not paying him any mind, the King waves a hand, and that movement stirs something within Vanki - something feral, something animalistic, something dangerously close to his true nature. With a desperate cry, he hauls away from his captors, yanking at the chains until the shackles loosen around his wrists. “I didn't do anything! You can’t just kill me... you can't!”

“Kill you?” The King turns around with an incredulous look adorning his face. He almost chuckles at the suggestion, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Let me go, please,” Vanki can feel his eyes watering again, and his voice is a whisper by the end of the sentence. Misfortune grips his limbs with renewed vigour, marks the skin on his forehead with a sharp kiss that makes him hiss, baring his teeth. “Please.”

“You have nowhere to go,” the King notes, correctly so. He has nowhere and no one to go to - having escaped the Vishap territory and stepped into the land that considers him nothing but an animal, a monster, a god too vicious to trust. “But you can stay here.”

Vanki isn’t sure if he heard it right, but the King looks as stern as when he first came in, albeit with less hostility in his gaze. At a loss for words, he doesn't have a chance to object when the King speaks again. “So I can keep an eye on you,” he explains before waving the boy away and departing the room.

Vanki is still processing the situation at hand as he is led across the hall and along dimly lit corridors of the castle. It’s too early in the morning for anyone to be awake yet, so they meet no one on the way to the spacious room allocated to him.

The guard walks him in, only stopping to inform the boy that a servant has filled a warm bath for him and left food on his bedside table. He then bids him a good night and locks the door, leaving Vanki alone and utterly confused. He cannot comprehend why or when all of this was arranged for him, but none of that matters when he lowers his aching body into the warmth of the bath, his head lolling back at the sheer pleasure of his element enveloping him. It takes only fifteen minutes for it to soak his bones, healing all of the cuts and bruises littering his skin.

Vanki has no way of knowing what is going to happen in the morning or what the King intends to do to him. He doesn't know if he will be allowed to stay or handed back to his kind. He can't even tell if he is a prisoner or a guest. The only thing he does know is that he is safe, warm and sated. Even if only for a night.

Part 2

Lore: Vishaps are serpent-like dragons in Armenian mythology, closely linked to water. They were seen as guardians or spirits of water sources that lived for thousands of years. They lived in the mountains or beneath lakes and had shape-shifting abilities. Vishaps' blood was believed to be deadly poisonous.

Author's note: This is based on the beautiful request by @annablogsposts.

Thank you so much for this, I enjoyed it incredibly ♡ As I've mentioned in my first reply, it corresponds greatly with my WIP novel and I took the liberty of aligning it even more. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did but even if you don't, feedback is welcomed.

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P.S. I know this isn't my usual content, so if you don't wanna be tagged in stories like this one, just let me know! Sunny xo

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