A Throne Forged by Shadows - Aaric Graycastle

TW: This chapter starts with references to past abuse, trauma, and non-consensual physical control.

The darkness is suffocating.

It coils around me, thick and cloying, swallowing the firelight flickering against the marble walls. The air is dense, pressing against my skin like a vice, trapping the breath in my lungs.

"Hold still, Doll."

Alic's voice slithers through the silence, smooth, coaxing. Deceptive.

I don't move.

Because I know better.

Fingers coil in my hair, twisting slow, deliberate. Tighter.

Pain blooms across my scalp, sharp and hot, but I welcome it. It's something to focus on. Something to ground me.

His other hand finds my waist, pressing in too tight, fingers digging into my ribs as if they belong there.

A slow exhale brushes my ear.

"That's better." He hums, pleased. "So obedient when you want to be."

I keep my jaw locked, my nails biting into my palms. I won't give him the satisfaction of reacting.

But then his grip shifts, his thumb dragging along my side, slow and intentional.

A shudder rolls through me before I can stop it.

He notices.

"Cold?" The mock concern in his voice makes my stomach churn. "Or just nervous?"

I don't answer.

I never answer.

Alic tilts his head, dragging his nose along my jaw, his lips barely brushing my pulse. My heart slams against my ribs.

Like you think you have a choice in this.

The pressure on my waist sharpens.

Like you think I don't know every little weakness you have.

I try to shift—just enough to pull away—

But he yanks me hard against him, the force knocking the air from my lungs.

A startled breath escapes before I can stop it.

Alic laughs, low and amused.

"You always try so hard." His lips ghost over the skin beneath my ear, his voice like silk-wrapped steel. "Like you don't know how this ends."

I do know.

And I hate him for it.

I hate myself for it.

He leans in closer, his breath curling against my skin, sickly sweet. "I wonder," he muses, dragging the moment out, "what your father—your mother—would think if they saw you like this."

Ice slams through my veins.

"Or do you think they already know?" The words are soft, almost thoughtful. "Know that you don't fight back because, deep down..." He pauses, savoring the way my body locks up beneath his hands.

"...you like it?"

No.

My lungs seize.