The hallway outside the torture chamber was cold, damp, and right now silent as a graveyard.
Bane stood there, leaning against the rough wall. He had been standing there for fourteen hours straight. His legs were stiff, his stomach was growling, and his throat was parched.
But he didn’t care. He didn’t budge from his place. At this moment, he was practically trembling with excitement.
Through the whole night, he had been listening to the sounds coming from behind the heavy iron door.
He heard loud screams, and to Bane’s twisted mind, it was a symphony.
"She is really taking her time," Bane thought, a shiver of delight running down his spine, "Fourteen hours straight."
"She must be flaying him inch by inch. She must be breaking every bone in his body, resetting them, and breaking them again."
He shifted uncomfortably. The thought of his ruthless, beautiful Queen dismantling the arrogant adventurer piece by piece was incredibly arousing. There was a noticeable bulge in his torn, dirty trousers.
He imagined Leo hanging from the chains, weeping, begging for mercy while Belladonna laughed and cracked her whip.
"Maybe," Bane whispered to himself, licking his dry, cracked lips, "Maybe if I am good... She will let me lick the knife when she is done."
"And if I am lucky, I might get to play with the leftovers."
Thinking about that, he waited for his turn now. The noise from inside had finally stopped about an hour ago.
Now he was just itching to get his hands dirty. And his Goddess finally listened to him, Bella’s voice from inside called him out.
"Bane! Get your ass inside."
Bane straightened his tattered blue suit, wiped a string of drool from his chin. He put on his best "loyal dog" expression, ready to see his Goddess’s masterpiece.
"Boss!" Bane announced, stepping inside the room, "I am here to clean up the..."
But the words died in his throat.
Bane stopped in his tracks as the smirk on his face froze, his eyes bulged so hard they looked like they might pop out of his skull and roll across the floor.
The room didn’t smell like the familiar scent of blood.
The air was thick, heavy, and suffocating with the scent of something else. Something unfamiliar to him. But he didn’t have the time to wrap his head around it.
Because the sight before him... it shattered his reality.
The "sacred" tools of his Boss, the bone saws, the pliers, the rusted hooks... All of them had been swept carelessly onto the floor, clattering in a heap in the corner to clear the heavy wooden table.
Sitting on the edge of that table was that boy.
He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t missing any limbs.
He was sitting there, wearing only his trousers but shirtless, with a bright red apple in his hand, which god knows where he got it from.
He looked like a King lounging on a throne, bored and satisfied.
And behind him... was the Queen, his Goddess.
She was not holding a whip like he had thought.
She was not covered in blood like he had anticipated.
She was not holding his guts like he had hoped.
She was standing behind Leo, her body pressed against his back. Her dress was dishevelled, the strap falling off one shoulder, revealing the creamy skin he was never allowed to touch.
Her hands were on the boy’s shoulders. She was kneading his muscles, her fingers digging in his flesh as she smiled at him with satisfaction.
"Is the pressure okay, Master?" she murmured, her voice dripping with honey.
Bane’s knees almost gave in. What was this sorcery? Was he hallucinating?
And then his gaze fell on the other girl his Boss brought with her.
She wasn’t hanging to her chains as well. She was kneeling by Leo’s feet, resting her head against his knee like a tamed wolf, her eyes closed contentedly.
Bane’s brain short-circuited. The wiring fried.
"Boss?" he squeaked, "What... Why are you... Why is he... Apple?"
Belladonna looked up. Her eyes flashed with annoyance at the interruption, the soft look she gave Leo vanishing instantly.
"Bane," she said, without stopping massaging Leo’s shoulders, "You took your time."
"I... I..." Bane stammered, pointing at Leo, "You... him... the torture?"
"The interrogation was successful," Leo said around a mouthful of apple, "Very successful in fact. We reached a new level of understanding."
"Bane," Belladonna commanded, her voice lazy but firm, "Prepare the Great Hall."
"Great Hall? For what?" Bane looked confused.
"A feast obviously," Leo corrected, swallowing the fruit, "I am starving. And it’s a great way to meet the boys."
"Tell the cooks. Gather everyone who is available. Everyone needs to be there in an hour," Belladonna echoed, "I have an announcement."
Bane tried to process this. But nothing made sense. He felt his world was spinning.
"Boss! about the egg?"
"We are done here," Belladonna said, her voice turning final and cold, "Don’t forget your place, dog!"
"Do whatever you are told to. Leave the thinking to me you dumb son of a bitch!"
"Now go. Do not make me repeat myself. Or else I will have her skin you alive and made a feast of you!" Belladonna’s voice turned cold as she looked at Shadow and then him.
Shadow opened her eyes. She looked at Bane. Her hand drifted lazily to the hilt of a dagger Leo had returned to her. Her gaze was a warning.
"Scram!" Shadow whispered.
Bane swallowed hard. The dynamic in the room had shifted so violently he had whiplash. But the command was absolute.
"Yes! Yes, Boss! At once!"
He scrambled backward out of the room, bowing repeatedly, terrified to turn his back on the strange tableau.
Just before he pulled the heavy door closed, he heard Belladonna whisper to Leo, her voice dropping to a sultry purr.
"Is that better, Master? Or do you need me to massage your thighs next? You worked them very hard."
Bane practically fell out into the hallway. He grabbed the handle of the heavy iron door and slammed it shut.
His knees had turned to jelly. He slid down the rough stone wall, until his butt hit the floor. He tipped his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling, questioning his very existence.
Fourteen hours! Full fourteen hours!
He had stood guard for fourteen hours. He had listened to the screams with the devotion of a monk. And for what?
Apples? Thigh massages?
"She... she offered to do his thighs," Bane whispered to the empty corridor, his voice trembling with existential dread. "She is the Queen of Agony. So why?"
He looked at his hands, eager to scrub the blood stains off the floor.
"Am I the crazy one?"
"Or has she gone crazy?"
** ** ** ** **