[center][h1]Excerpts from the life of a prince[/h1][/center]
[b]II.	The art of torture: Year 1718, Ventu[/b]

[color=lightgray]The prince was recuperating within the medical chambers under the tightest of security. He had been rushed there immediately, doctors crowding his unconscious body. He’d regained consciousness hours later with tubes attached to his arm, and his neck heavily bandaged. His mother was by his side, and he’d talked to her some before falling into another restless sleep.

He was only starting to wake again when the door flew open with a bang that made Wulfric jump. Morrigan came tearing into the room like a storm. Her face was flushed, her breath escaped in puffs, and her eyes were bright and wild as they scanned the room.

[color=Floralwhite]“Adelard!”[/color] she cried out. He barely had time to react before she threw her arms around him and held him against her tightly. [color=Floralwhite]“Oh, Adelard,"[/color] she said, softer this time, but no less thick with emotion. She planted kisses all over his cheek and a long one on the forehead.

Arms were around him, holding him down, suffocating. [color=ab274f]“It hurts,”[/color] he told her quietly. It wasn’t because of her hug, not really. But the heat of her body was stifling; it radiated from her, and seeped into his. The gash beneath his bandages felt as if lava was running through it. It pulsated slowly but painfully, each heartbeat bringing with it a fresh pang of pain.

[color=a187be]“Morrigan!”[/color] his mother hissed sharply from his bedside. [color=a187be]“Can you not see that he is [i]injured[/i]?”[/color] He was let down gently, and he blinked from one woman to the other, dazed. [color=a187be]“...No sudden movements,”[/color] she added, calming her tone as she brushed through his hair.

[color=ab274f]“You came to visit.”[/color] Wulfric [i]was[/i] pleased to see her, so he smiled at Morrigan, though it was very faint. He felt so weak and awful, but the company was…nice. He didn’t want to be so childish, but he was secretly glad for all the coddling.

Morrigan sank to her knees beside the bed, careful so as not to cause Wulfric any more pain. She took his hand tenderly in her own, running her thumb over his knuckles in a soothing motion. [color=Floralwhite]“Of course I did, sweetie,”[/color] she said softly. Violet eyes roamed over him, checking how bad his injuries were. [color=Floralwhite]“What happened?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“I was just playing,”[/color] he said. Wulfric was clearly confused; he knew what happened, but not [i]why[/i]. [color=ab274f]“Then he- he attacked me, and wanted to kill me…”[/color] 

The child gripped Morrigan’s hand as tight as a vice, fingers digging into her palm. His breathing sped up, lids screwing shut as part of the memory vividly flashed before his eyes.

[color=darkgray][i]Suddenly, the man lunged at him, a jagged piece of the broken vase in hand. The prince was tackled to the ground, and the man swung wildly, screaming as his eyes glinted madly. Wulfric yelped, trying to kick at the servant, struggling to break free. He couldn’t. The sharp edge made contact just before the guards grabbed the offender and dragged the man back. However, the damage was already done, and the child brought a hand to his neck. It was searing hot – something sticky and warm oozed between his hands. Red was spreading everywhere. Blood. [b]His[/b] blood.[/i][/color]

He felt his mother stroking his back, and calmed down. Even though he was cautious turning around, the pain made him gasp. He gazed at his mother, silently pleading. It was tiring to try and explain further, and he knew she could tell Morrigan more.

Alibeth did, even as she took hold of his other hand. He listened as she went over what she’d learned from him, the guards, and the doctors so far. Even though she was speaking softly, Wulfric could tell his mother was angry - angry for his sake. However, the way she retold the event was similar to his history lessons. He liked those; there was always a way to explain what happened and why.

[color=Floralwhite]“I knew I should’ve done more than break his bones.”[/color] Wulfric thought he heard Morrigan mutter. He glanced her way, saw the familiar comforting face, but something dark spiraled behind those eyes.

[color=ab274f]“Did he…Did he attack me because I’m important?”[/color] Wulfric asked his mother when she was finished. It wasn’t the first time someone tried hurting him. Two years ago, he had thoughtlessly accepted a gift, and ended up being poisoned. His mother had told him then that he had to be careful. She had said some people would want to hurt him because he was a prince.

[color=a187be]“I am unsure yet, darling…But all will become clear in due time.”[/color] He opened his mouth to object, because it seemed there was something she was holding back. But she touched his cheek, and promised, [color=a187be]“We can discuss it to your heart’s content when you are better, Wulfric.”[/color]

He huffed, but exhaustion was already taking him over. [color=ab274f]“Alright.”[/color]

[color=Floralwhite]“Get some rest, okay sweetie?”[/color] Morriagn stood up and helped his mother make Wulfric more comfortable in his bed. [color=Floralwhite]“When you’re all better, I’ll have a little present waiting for the good boy.”[/color] She tapped the good boy’s nose with her finger.

[color=Floralwhite]“In the meantime, do you want anything?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Tell me a story,”[/color] he requested.

[color=Floralwhite]“A story? Hmm.”[/color] Morrigan pondered for a moment. [color=Floralwhite]“Have you heard of [i]The Lost Empire of the Silver Seas[/i]? It’s popular with the children and Aiden’s been absolutely obsessed with it lately.”[/color]

Wulfric’s eyes grew heavy as Morrigan’s melodic voice wove a tale of adventure on the high seas. She told of a dashing captain searching mythical islands for the fabled lost kingdom, filled with glittering treasure. Slowly, lulled by the epic story, he drifted into dreams of flashing blades and creaking ships, guided by the rhythm of crashing waves.

Just before sleep claimed him completely, he felt a light pressure on his forehead—Morrigan’s warm lips, kissing him goodnight. There was some quiet movement and a whispered exchange between his cousin and mother. The last thing he heard was, [color=Floralwhite]“If you need anything from me, Bettie, you know where to find me.”[/color]

Wulfric had slept through most of the first several days. When he was able to stay awake longer, he was allowed to play here and there under supervision. After a week, he was allowed to take short walks to the garden. The second week in, however, the routine became so terribly [i]tedius[/i] and [i]frustrating[/i]. He was still in pain, yes, but why did he have to be locked up as if he were some prisoner? He’d heard the doctors say how [i]fortunate[/i] he was, and how he must truly be under divine protection.

If so, Wulfric wished the Gods would do something about all of [i]this[/i]. He had [i]no[/i] lessons, he couldn’t sleep in his room, his neck was painful and [i]itchy[/i], and he constantly had people all around whose most commonly uttered phrases consisted of [color=white]“No,”[/color] and [color=white]“I am terribly sorry, but.”[/color] In protest, he threw a tremendous tantrum, but after he tired himself out, he got the [color=white]“Oh, see, you must still rest, after all,”[/color] treatment. It was driving him up the wall, and he didn’t know what to do about it, because [i]no one was listening[/i]. Mother and Morrigan both were acting as if he [i]still[/i] needed babying. Oh, how it [i]grated[/i] that for every single step he took, there was someone looking down at him, judging him as [i]weak[/i] and [i]helpless[/i]. He hated it.

Morrigan laughed when Wulfric told her he wasn’t a baby anymore. [color=Floralwhite]“Oh honey,”[/color] she said, [color=Floralwhite]“no matter how old you are, you’ll always be your Mama’s precious little baby.”[/color] She cupped his puffed cheeks in her soft hands and nuzzled her nose against his, then kissed the frown creasing his brow.

[color=Floralwhite]“But… I suppose…”[/color] Her touch trailed down his neck, where the bandage covered his recent injury. She pressed down, down, down, until it stung and ached. Morrigan watched him closely, searching, assessing, testing as tears pricked his eyes. Waited to see if he would cry, if he would beg her to stop or flee. He would not. Wulfric swallowed hard, met her gaze. He was big. Strong. A prince. [i]The[/i] Prince. He was not scared.

After what felt like forever, Morrigan withdrew her hand and smiled with pride. [color=Floralwhite]“What a strong wolf,”[/color] she praised. [color=Floralwhite]“I think you’re ready for my little present.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“A present?”[/color] Wulfric asked eagerly. He blinked a few times to safely get rid of the uncomfortable dampness in his eyes, not letting a drop fall. He didn’t like crying, and besides, he had no reason to. It still hurt, true. But even worse was the urge to [i]scratch[/i], to claw at it like a mindless beast. Even with salves applied to the injury, that instinct was growing stronger and more frequent. The doctors had explained to him it was a sign of healing. He hoped it would go away soon.

Whether as a reward or as an appeasement, Morrigan told him to follow her, and led him out of the medical chambers. Seeing he was going somewhere different in a while, the child perked up. At times, he’d run ahead of his cousin, who, amused, told him which direction to take. [color=ab274f]“Oooh,”[/color] there was a sparkle of curiosity and delight in his gaze as they descended into the dungeons. He had explored there a few times, but adults mostly seemed to want to keep him away from the prisoners.

Except for Morrigan, who looked just as excited as he was. [color=Floralwhite]“Close your eyes, Adelard. Don’t open them until I say so. Can you do that?”[/color] Of course he could. Wulfric not only squeezed his eyes shut, but clapped his hands over them to prove it. Giggles filled his ears, then the heavy door shrieked open. Morrigan gently guided him through one room and into another. When they finally stopped he shifted from foot to foot, swaying with anticipation and fighting the urge to peek.

[color=Floralwhite]“You can look now.”[/color] Wulfric needed no further encouragement. He peeled his hands away, blinking as his vision adjusted to the dim light. Someone lay strapped to the most uncomfortable looking recliner. All kinds of strange tools decorated the table beside it. Morrigan flung her arms wide, matching the broadness of her grin. [color=Floralwhite]“Ta-da!”[/color]

Wulfric mimicked her smile, perplexed, but as he stared at the man chained to the rack, his expression turned blank. The man’s face was heavily bruised and bloodied, nose broken, lips swollen, yet he was still recognizable. His body was just as battered, his limbs twisted unnaturally. The servant had whimpered upon Morrigan’s entrance, but now his fearfully pleading eyes locked onto the child’s. [color=white]“M-mph!”[/color] the man tried to say something through the gag.

[color=ab274f]“You,”[/color] he seethed. [color=ab274f]“You tried to kill me,”[/color] the prince accused. There was a turmoil of confusion and anger brewing within him. Vigorous muffled protests followed as the man tried to shake himself free. It was futile. Wulfric looked at Morrigan, then at the tools - though he didn’t recognize them, he knew they were [i]weapons[/i] - then back at her. His cousin nodded happily, still grinning.

Wulfric approached the table, and chose something familiar. A simple knife. He slashed off the man’s gag, lightly cutting his cheek in the process. [color=white]“I’b sorry - sorry, pwhe-ease forgib me,”[/color] the man started crying right away.

[color=ab274f]“Shut up.”[/color] His voice was eerily calm even as he gripped the knife tightly. The servant hiccuped, nervous eyes flitting here and there. [color=ab274f]“Hey,”[/color] Wulfric drew his attention. [color=ab274f]“Do you remember when you gave me this?”[/color] He pointed at his bandaged neck. The man swallowed, gave a tiny nod, was about to say something, but the prince hushed him. [color=ab274f]“You were saying…That I was [i]a monster[/i]. That I should die,”[/color] he recalled. [color=ab274f]“Tell me why,”[/color] he demanded.

But the man started apologizing again, saying how he hadn’t meant it, how he didn’t know what had come over him, how he’d forgotten himself, and begged for mercy. Wulfric’s face grew darker as he listened. [color=ab274f]“That’s not what I asked.”[/color] He circled the man until he stood by his head. He held the knife in both hands, fingers tight around the handle. He stared down at the servant. When the man had attacked him, Wulfric had been just as helpless. Knocked onto the floor, an adult body pinning him down, a sharp improvised weapon wielded against him. His breathing picked up speed; he didn’t quite hear what the man was saying anymore. All he knew was that [i]this person[/i] had caused him hurt, had meant to kill him.

With a shout, he brought the knife down, fast and hard - into the man’s shoulder. Even with all his strength, it didn’t plunge deeply, stopped by a bone. But the man [i]screamed[/i], and Wulfric knew he’d screamed just like that when he’d been stabbed too. He took deep breaths, mouth open, eyes wide as he stared at the wound he’d created, shocked. Yet…the person who’d hurt him was the one hurting now. That was good.

He closed his eyes for a bit, shaking. It passed after a while, and he started wiggling the knife out. It took a bit, prompting more screams, but then it was dislodged. Hands bloodied and slick, the child went back to where he could watch the man’s face. [color=ab274f]“Tell me,”[/color] he said again, voice rougher, tired out from the effort.

When the man failed to answer again, Morrigan’s hand flew out in a blur, backhanding him with a resounding crack that echoed through the stone chamber. She leaned in close, pressing a slender finger to his lips to hush his whimpers before they could fully form. [color=Floralwhite]“Now, now, darling,”[/color] she purred, her voice syrup-sweet. [color=Floralwhite]“Your prince asked you a question. It’s rude not to answer.”[/color] She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. [color=Floralwhite]“Such dreadful manners. Do I have to teach you a lesson?”[/color] Her fingers slid across his cheek in a slow caress, gliding down the column of his throat. Her touch promised only pain as her nails began to circle over the fresh wound.

Wulfric observed the man, then glanced at his bloodied hands, at Morrigan, and finally at the servant. [color=ab274f]“Should I…cut?”[/color] he asked quietly. It was unclear whom he was asking, nor the exact emotions behind the question, but he was staring down at the immobile victim intently. He shuffled closer, the knife slick and slippery from blood.

The captive struggled to escape, but only managed to rattle his chains. [color=white]“Wh-wait!”[/color] he gasped. [color=white]“I - I’ll tell - so, jus -”[/color] the prisoner breathed heavily, eyes squeezing shut. Wulfric waited patiently, and when the servant next looked at him, there was something [i]familiar[/i] in the way he did it.

[color=white]“I did-did it,”[/color] he grit his teeth. [color=white]“Be-be-coz, you’re [i]like this[/i].”[/color] He strained, and shook, gradually becoming more frenzied. [color=white]“You-you’re enjoying this, [i]aren’t you?[/i] Jus-jus like back then. You thought it was so funny! Watchin’ me run, gettin’ your guards to bully me, [i]threatenin’[/i] me! And that damn vase! [i]It wasn’t my damn fault![/i] You saw tha-tha’! Bh-bhut, you beat me up s’bad s’a dog - worse than! Said I could never repay it, brought my [i]family[/i] up—!”[/color]

The prince considered that. [color=ab274f]“But I was playing then,”[/color] he said, testing. [color=ab274f]“It was a [i]game[/i],”[/color] he insisted.

[color=white]“A game? A [i]game![/i]”[/color] the man shouted abruptly, furious. [color=white]“We ain’t your fuckin’ toys! Not yours, not the damn king’s – Gods! You, your father, all of you, you think we’re just tools to use till you throw us away! But no! Even a goddamned [i]vase[/i] you care more about than [i]any of us[/i].”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“My father!”[/color] Wulfric repeated, visibly upset. Unprompted, the man went onto a rant about the king. He continued, on and on, even as the prince watched, surprise momentarily taking over the anger. After another minute, however, he was cut off - literally - by another fierce stab from the child. The man gasped as the weapon plunged into the soft tissue of his stomach area.

[color=ab274f]“So you hate him. It’s [i]him[/i] you want to kill,”[/color] the prince reasoned. [color=ab274f]“Why not do it then?”[/color] He asked, laughing. A knowing grin spread across his features. [color=ab274f]“You can’t, right? But you thought that [i]I[/i] was weak. That you [i]could[/i] kill me,”[/color] he uttered darkly. [color=ab274f]“I was an easy target for you…”[/color] This clearly infuriated the child. [color=ab274f]“Not anymore,”[/color] he declared quietly. [color=ab274f]“And now you’ll die for it.”[/color]

Wulfric glanced at Morrigan. [color=ab274f]“He told me what I wanted,”[/color] he concluded.

At the finality of his words, Morrigan pouted. [color=Floralwhite]“You would let him off so easily?”[/color] Wulfric found himself confused; since when were executions being ‘let off lightly’?

Morrigan began to orbit the bound servant. Each step was calculated and precise, her heels clicking against the cold stone floor in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm. [color=Floralwhite]“When he still doesn’t understand the gravity of his crime?”[/color]

She halted her pacing to place a hand over the servant’s stomach. [color=Floralwhite]“Does he regret every decision that led him here? Every step, every breath?”[/color]

Without warning, her fingers plunged deep into the open wound, evoking a shrill scream. But somehow, through the howls, Wulfric could still hear Morrigan’s soft voice just as clearly as he did before. [color=Floralwhite]“Does he realize what a privilege it is to serve us? And this… this is how he chose to repay our generosity? What audacity to bite the hand that feeds.”[/color]

Morrigan continued her invasive exploration inside the servant. Whatever she was doing caused him to writhe violently against his restraints, his wails rising to an ear-splitting volume.

She paused momentarily to savor his anguish before speaking again. [color=Floralwhite]“He still believes what he did was right, that you and your daddy owe him an apology for his own actions.”[/color]

[color=Floralwhite]“Death is too swift an escape for vermin such as him. He needs a lesson he’ll never forget, one that will etch itself into his very soul and carry to the afterlife, where it’ll dawn on him that it’s impossible to atone for even a fraction of his sin against you, against us, against Caesonia.”[/color]

With a hint of reluctance, Morrigan withdrew her blood-soaked fingers from the servant’s abdomen. A resigned sigh escaped her lips and she turned to Wulfric. [color=Floralwhite]“But, this is your gift. You can do whatever you want with him.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Hmmm…”[/color] Wulfric was deep in thought. He didn’t especially care what the man thought; he would die anyhow. [color=ab274f]“He doesn’t need to regret [i]everything[/i].”[/color] Even so, a part of him was interested in what Morrigan was saying. It sounded similar to what his father so often did, yet a shade different. There was undeniable intrigue to find out [i]exactly[/i] what she meant. Would she show him something new? Would the man say anything else? Would he regret what he did? Would he learn? And if he did - if he did, what then?

[color=ab274f]“Alright,”[/color] he decided. [color=ab274f]“You can make him pay for this,”[/color] he traced the bandaged neck injury. [color=ab274f]“For…treason,”[/color] he rolled the word on his tongue, pondering the bound criminal. As he settled on his verdict, he smiled at his cousin. [color=ab274f]“I can share,”[/color] he told her proudly.

[color=Floralwhite]“Aww! Aren’t you just the sweetest thing!”[/color] Morrigan cooed, [color=Floralwhite]“Thank you, Adelard. You’re so thoughtful.”[/color] She affectionately pinched his cheek, [color=Floralwhite]“Why don’t we turn this into a lesson on anatomy and persuasion?”[/color] She ushered Wulfric to the table and picked up a tool from it. [color=Floralwhite]“The most important thing about torturing is to cause maximum pain without accidentally killing them. There’s different kinds of pain, but let’s keep it simple and focus on physical pain, okay?”[/color] When he nodded, she smiled and placed the tool into his hand. [color=Floralwhite]“Everyone’s pain tolerance is different, and it can change from day to day. The very first step of torture is to find out how much the person can handle.”[/color] She gestured towards the servant. [color=Floralwhite]“Start with something that you think will cause mild discomfort then start increasing the pain until you reach his threshold.”[/color] Morrigan stopped herself and rephrased the last part in case Wulfric didn’t understand, [color=Floralwhite]“Stop when he screams, starts shaking, or jerks away from you.”[/color]

The young prince obeyed, curious about the impromptu lesson. He followed Morrigan’s guidance - and drew upon his own ingenuity - to torment the servant. Because of what the man said, and because of how much he was thinking about what had happened, it occurred to the child that he must have hurt him before, when he was playing. But when Wulfric asked his cousin if that had been torture, she gave a weird answer. [color=Floralwhite]“Pain comes in all shapes and sizes,”[/color] she said. [color=Floralwhite]“Torture is not being able to escape it.”[/color] So, he figured it was best to learn the difference. His outings to the dungeons with Morrigan lasted days and days. During his time there, he observed and absorbed the lessons on pain, and its effects on a person. His cousin and his victim both had much to teach him on the subject.

Around the time the man started begging to be killed, Wulfric decided he’d had enough. His cousin pointed out they could go further, but he did what Morrigan termed ‘granting a merciful death’ to the prisoner. She’d asked if he’d ever like to do this with her again, and he told her maybe, if someone tried killing him again. 

Either way, he had much to think about. He’d involved his mother too, when he started pestering her with questions. She was more than willing to indulge him - not just then, but throughout the following years, during which she taught him many, many things.[/color]

[b][u]TLDR:[/u] At seven, Wulfric is nearly killed. But hey, he gets a cool scar out of it! Being the good cousin she is, Morrigan comes up with a very child-appropriate activity to bond over - torturing the culprit. Isn’t it sweet how she’s looking out for him?[/b]