LegendMature

This is a story revolving around a character of mine - Dacre. It's the very long (and most likely never ending) tale of how he came to be and how he lived out a very eventful life!

Leaves scattered across the stone table, the woman laid on the cold slab; clutching at the ropes that bound her to it. Anguish contorted a beautiful face, twisting it into something that was close to the features of a demon.

'Scream, wench.' A man in a hooded cloak barked with a vicious relish. 

'I don't care enough for you to scream.' The woman managed to spit out without weeping with pain. 

'Do you care enough for her?' The man breathed silkily into her ear, his cold breath washed over her face and she bit into her lip deeply, drawing blood.

'It is not a girl.' She coughed, her voice wavering. 

The woman was fastened down tightly to the slab of freezing rock, the enchanted ropes of the oak tree rubbing against her wrists and ankles painfully. A cold wind danced across her skin as she squeezed her eyes tight shut. Unexpectedly, she wasn't writhing in pain or clamping her teeth down on a stick - but she lay, her face crumpled up like a ball of parchment, but her body was perfectly still.

The man slipped off the dark woven hood revealing a devilishly handsome, chiselled face with dark pit's of eyes. Those eyes bore straight into the young woman's soul, to any other human or fey it would have been incredibly unnerving. But the woman met his gaze with equal intensity. 

'Oh?' He whispered, 'and how have you come across this information?' 

A cruel glint passed his eyes as he threw his fist onto her arm, splintering the fragile, bird-like bone that resided within it, 'Answer me!' He roared, 'how are you so sure it is a boy?' 

'Because it's not your child, Abaddon,' She murmured, the pain which knotted her face melted away, revealing a glorious, smiling goddess as it went. 

'Lying filth! You should have been glad I accepted a common Air as yourself as my bride! As the women to bare my child! Insolent fool! You have ruined every chance of this child ever having a life you pathetic excuse for a fey! Filth! Whore! Wench! You dare defy me!' The man, Abaddon, ranted in a shrill screech. With a flash of silver, it had ended. The woman's shocked gasp was drowned out by horrific noise of the splashing over her blood as it poured out onto the table, her mouth snapped shut and in her last moments she smiled at Abaddon. A radiant, thankful smile that he would never be able to forget.  Not in his entire life.

'My lord! The child!' A fearful voice cried out from behind him.

'I am aware, fool! Now move!' With another glint of silver, he sliced until a wailing child emerged within the gore, lapping up it's first tastes of air, 'no. No! This can't be!' 

But that child was not a girl. No. Quite the opposite. Abaddon's worst fears had come true, she had not done this out of sincere feelings for her mystery lover, but out of revenge for what Abaddon himself had done. 

Falling from Grace could have been one of the worst mistakes Abaddon could have made. But dragging a divine goddess down with him? That was something that he would regret until the day he died. 

The End

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