FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

They sat in silence for a long, long time, The Lord Sovereign at the head of the table, uniform stiff with blood, the fur on his paws and face spiked with crimson. His eyes stared out from the middle of the bloody mask, still aglow with unresolved fury.

Esfir's riding outfit was ruined, shredded from head to toe, her fur streaked with blood. She stared down at the tabletop, one paw holding tightly to her wrist, doing her best to keep her trembling from becoming noticeable.

The spot where she'd retreated to, the corner next to the door, was bathed in gore, blood fanned up the wood paneled wall, nearly to the ceiling. She couldn't so much as look near it, but its very presence burnt at the corner of her vision like a red hot coal.

He'd ripped at her for some time, Esfir didn't know how long. After a while it had blurred together into a contiguous loop of pain and terror and, after longer still, just sensory nonsense. She thought he'd probably lost steam when she'd stopped screaming.

She couldn't remember heading to the table or sitting down, but here she was. The Lord Sovereign was poring over his papers once more. The nearest one had a diagonal slash of crimson sprayed across it, nearly dry.

As she watched, the Lord Sovereign crumpled it, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. She could hear the paper crinkling, his claws punching effortlessly through it, little blooms of red staining the material where he gripped it.

"Pity," he pronounced at last, "it would have been such an excellent revenue scheme."

It took Esfir some time to realize he was speaking of his plan to let the public pay to use her. Somehow the horror of that, as brightly as it had burned when she'd first heard it, seemed muted now. She blinked, gaze moving up to the table just short of the Lord Sovereign. She didn't want to look at so much as an inch of him. Not his blood slimed claws or gore stained muzzle. Especially not his eyes, which remained on her, boring into her very soul.

"You're..." She faltered, planned question going unspoken.

"You'll remain in the palace for the time being," the Lord Sovereign said, clearing his throat, "you have some fight in you after all."

That hadn't been what she'd wanted to ask about, though...what? Was he not going to punish her further for sticking a knife in his throat? Surely he'd turn her out to the public now...right?

Yet the whole plan seemed to have been scrapped.

"You're..." Esfir swallowed hard, managing to salvage a single word from the shivery mess of emotions at the center of herself, "...alive." She didn't think the abject misery in her voice could get any more pronounced.

The Lord Sovereign cracked the faintest ghost of a smile, the very tip of one fang exposed. It was speckled with red.

"Yes," he said, clearly enjoying Esfir's slow reaction to this fact, "I am. Just like you."

"But..." Esfir took a deep, trembly breath.

"You lulled me into a false sense of security," the Lord Sovereign said, smile growing almost rueful, "which, if it had been deliberate, would have been smart. But you..." He let the ball of crumpled, bloodied paper fall from his paw, extending a single crimson soaked finger to point at Esfir, "you reacted. And that's fine. It's a beginning. You have some potential, you're not quite the weak, submissive whore I saw when I first entered your cell."

Esfir blinked hard. A beginning? Potential? She was completely lost.

"It was unfair of me to steal your kingdom from you," the Lord Sovereign continued, "you're not responsible for the shambles it's in now, the sins of the father should not fall to the child. I'm giving you a chance to take it back from me."

"...This is a trick." Esfir said slowly, gripping hard onto her wrist, little claws digging into her skin, pushing dull throbs of pain up one arm.

"It's an education. A game. I can't kill you, not in any satisfying way at least...and sending you off to be turned hollow and empty eyed by the tender mercies of the public doesn't really enthuse me. I'm going to keep you here, and we're going to play intrigue. If you can turn enough people against me to chase me from power, then you will have your kingdom...and be a worthy ruler because of it. If you don't," his paw dropped slowly to the table where he began pushing the crumpled paper towards the edge, "you will not survive." The paper dropped from the table, rattling impotently against the stone floor.

Esfir found that she'd gone stiff and tense, her teeth clenched so hard she thought they might break. There were tears welling in her eyes, helpless and angry and frightened all at once.

What the Lord Sovereign was proposing was strange and terrible, scary and impossible and outrageous all at once. How could she possibly beat him at his own game? His men were in control of the palace, and she'd seen the degree of loyalty he enjoyed.

She felt lost and alone, a tiny speck in the midst of a dark and frightening wilderness, prowled by beasts that desired nothing more than to hurt her in every possible way.

But still, the Lord Sovereign had all but promised to find some way to permanently kill her if she disappointed...

She shut her eyes, biting back a whimper.

"For what it's worth," the Lord Sovereign said from the other end of the table, "I give this opportunity to rivals...every so often. You're the only one who thought to kill me. The rest...I suppose they didn't wish to invite the reaction of my men. They sought to escape or bribe their way out. So boring."

Esfir sniffled, slowly drawing her knees up to her chest, tail tucked firmly between her legs. She knew she ought to say something, to at least appear like she wasn't on the brink of utter despair, but once more her words were completely lost.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to be centered for a single moment. To craft a question. The Lord Sovereign seemed to be in a talkative mood, anything to belay the temptation to go over and continue ripping into her. This she could see glowing in his eyes, clear as day.

"Were you...born like this?" She asked at last, so quiet as to be nearly inaudible.

The Lord Sovereign regarded her evenly for a moment. She thought he might be internally moving to decipher the fear that fogged her voice.

"Were you?" He asked.

Esfir managed a faint nod.

"I never knew where it came from," the Lord Sovereign said, "only that my mother could not drown me when she tried. Perhaps it really is a curse, something eldritch in origin. That makes no difference to me, nor, I suppose, to you. All that really matters is the knowledge that, when something happens, an assassin's arrow or a thimble of cyanide in my soup, I shall arise from the blood and corruption of death new and perfect."

"Oh..." Esfir sighed, eyes dropping to where little crimson pinpricks were beginning to radiate out from her wrist, where her claws had punched through skin.

The Lord Sovereign said nothing, just turned back to his papers, picking them delicately up, taking care not to smudge them too badly wth the blood that soaked his paws.

Esfir took a deep breath, then another. Emotions dueled within her, anger and fear and hopelessness all battling for supremacy.

This was bad.

Perhaps not as terribly bleak as the prospect of being turned out for the public to use and abuse, but still terrible. She was the princess of a conquered realm, the object of contempt and lust and perhaps a little fear, but not even fear of a sort that she could really use to her advantage. The guards were still a little leery at the prospect of seeing her peculiarity up close, but the rest...

They wouldn't hesitate to do the rest.

The very worst part was that she actually felt a little gleam of hope, as seductive as the golden glint of a chunk of pyrite, burning somewhere down within her. It was wild and flighty, a desperate supposition that she could actually get out.

But...even if she could, even if this wasn't just an elaborate trick by the Lord Sovereign, how?

Once more the full reality of her situation seemed to settle atop her like a leaden blanket. Esfir took a deep breath, silent tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

"I expect you to participate," the Lord Sovereign said at last, seeming to have finished with his papers, "you can have your education back, your schedule..." At this he held up one of the papers, smudged red on the sides. Esfir was alarmed to recognize her leisure chart, the activities she was allowed and disallowed to participate in (for example: strolling the garden was allowed but fencing lessons were forbidden) as well as a rough suggestion for her curriculum. All in her father's neat, precise script.

She took a deep breath, averting her eyes, unable to bear the sight of one little reminder of her father clutched in the bloodstained claws of the Lord Sovereign.

"If I don't?" She managed to ask, already knowing the likely answer was bound to be something horrible.

"Are my earlier assessments of you really correct?" The Lord Sovereign asked with faint, mocking amazement.

Esfir hunched her shoulders, digging her claws further into her arm, the pain centering her just a little, enough to retain some fragment of calmness.

So he'd really just throw her to the public if she didn't play. Okay...

In the end Esfir nodded. What else could she really do? To invite the other option was to die. Not physically, but...she somehow knew just what the Lord Sovereign had meant when he'd mentioned the empty eyes he imagined future her to have.

She almost felt a little like that now, everything held at a slight distance to the world by a gauzy veil of shock. The more abuse she took, Esfir knew, the more complete that veil would grow and the more total her disassociation from the world as a whole.

The thought of being so vacant, so absolutely broken, sent a chill through her that bristled up what fur wasn't already slicked down with blood.

"Just know," the Lord Sovereign said, setting her leisure chart back down, "while you're playing your games, I'll be playing mine."

With that he stood smoothly back up and Esfir jumped from her chair, nearly tumbling over one arm, landing none too gracefully on the stone. She scrambled to get back upright, using the wall, fearful eyes locked to where the Lord Sovereign was pushing his chair back in, looking amused.

"One condition," he said, paws printing red stains on the painted fabric back of his chair, "you will need to spend three nights each week in my company, you're free to choose which ones."

Esfir stood by the wall, still tensed and ready to run, yet the Lord Sovereign didn't seem keen on attacking her. Not at the moment, anyway. Instead, he merely gestured to the door, signifying that she was free to leave.

It took Esfir a moment to realize that supper, the whole reason she'd apparently been called down here, hadn't even been served. Then another to...

Oh.

He was making her choose which nights she'd be subjected to his abuse. That was...the deliberate, casual cruelty he displayed even in crafting that one decision actually sent a chill through Esfir.

His games indeed...

Still, three nights was better than all seven, even if she knew that the whole purpose of the time off was to leave her in dread of the next occurrence. She edged towards the door, keeping her eyes on the Lord Sovereign at all times, until she was through the doorway and out into the comparatively spacious hallway. The royal dining room, once cozy and personal, now felt as cramped and sinister as the cell in which she'd first been exposed to the Lord Sovereign's hospitality.

The Lord Sovereign followed her out, respecting the distance she kept from him, though Esfir knew all too well that, if he really wanted to, the tiger could be on her in a single leap.

"Have a good night, Princess," he said, watching her tremble, eyes traveling fondly over her exposed form, only barely clad in shredded, crimson soaked rags, "I wish you a productive morrow."

Though he smiled and, though his words were spoken in a perfectly civilized tone, Esfir could still see a tenseness to the Lord Sovereign's body language, a coal of anger still burning at the back of his eyes.

Behind everything else, though he was clearly glad he hadn't broken her completely, he was still deeply annoyed that she'd demonstrated her defiance on him rather than any of the men he'd sent to abuse her.

Once more she remembered the tiger's grim little promise.

She'd play her games...he'd play his.

There were no guards in sight and Esfir felt distinctly glad of this as she watched the Lord Sovereign pad away, disappearing around a corner. But though he was gone, she didn't feel any safer. The palace was hostile territory now, even if she knew every inch of it.

Wiping her eyes, Esfir took a deep breath and decided to go back to her chambers. They weren't far, and surely she'd be at least a little safer there rather than out and about in the corridors.

But even as she thought that, she remembered just how easily the two guards had overpowered her earlier, the eager way the dog had shoved into her, the dull pain of the fox pinning her head down with one knee.

She hoped her silver dagger would still be there. She hoped she wouldn't be so stupid the next-

Esfir froze in place, hearing the click of claws on stone coming from the corridor ahead of her. For a moment her mind went blank with panic, then she ducked to the side of the corridor, heart clenching in her chest. There was a room there meant for cleaning supplies, and she knew it was usually kept unlocked.

Paws trembling, she tugged it open and backed in as best she could, brooms rattling together behind her, the noise massive in the little wolf's ears. She just barely managed to bite back a squeak of terror as she shut the door, bathing herself in darkness, all but for a little sliver of light at the bottom of the door.

For a moment all was quiet, then, suddenly, there was an interruption in the light streaming in through the supply closet door, a shuffle of paws as someone outside came to a halt.

"Did you hear something from here?" A voice asked, sharp with sudden tension.

"It's mice," replied a second, "leave it alone."

"There aren't mice in palaces," protested the first voice, and Esfir heard a paw settle on the doorknob, "palaces are, like..." The first voice tried hard to find an appropriately grandiose comparison but didn't seem able to.

"Like...?" His companion asked mockingly.

"Fuck off. Point is...palaces don't have mice because mice are vermin and vermin don't belong in palaces." As he spoke the doorknob began to turn, Esfir stiffening, paws balling into fists as she looked desperately around herself for something that could serve as a weapon. There were brooms, a few dustpans, a tin cleaning bucket and a few rags, some bottles...

Her eyes seized desperately on the nearest glass bottle and she snatched it up, the scent from within sharp and piercing. It made her eyes water and her nose scrunch up.

"Palaces don't have vermin?" The second voice chuckled, "what're you doing here-"

The door opened and the second voice cut abruptly off, a pair of guards shying abruptly back from the closet, clearly surprised to actually find a person in there.

Esfir held the bottle by its neck, a trickle of clear, ugly smelling liquid trickling past the cracked stopper and down one arm. For a moment she tried to find her words but nothing became apparent, she tried to curl her lip, to bare her sharp little teeth, but only managed a terrified grimace, her eyes wide and ears pinned back.

Her torn pants chose that moment to fall completely down, leaving her all but totally naked, her blood streaked fur fluffed out with fright.

The two guards stared at the odd sight, one, a calico cat, mumbling something indistinct to the other, a round eared African wild dog, who nodded sharply.

"...Esfir, right?" The dog asked, eyes flickering uneasily between the little wolf's bloodied appearance and the makeshift weapon she held.

Esfir said nothing, breathing hard, the awful stench of the liquid in its bottle seeming to clog her nose and tighten the back of her throat. But she couldn't put it down or else they'd attack her, she knew it, they'd pin her down and...and...

The panic seemed to swell inside of her like a balloon, crushing her heart against her ribs.

"You're the...princess?" The calico asked, almost doubtfully, shifting anxiously from paw to paw, his own ears pinned back, whiskers gone askew. He exchanged a look with the wild dog, who seemed to be debating whether or not to take another step back.

Esfir took a deep breath, the world going spinny around her for an alarming moment. Was she really so frightened that she was going to faint? No...no...

"Go..." She had to take another breath, her lungs suddenly alarmingly empty, spots creeping into the corners of her vision, the arm holding the bottle lowering almost of its own accord, "...go away..." But her voice was faint and her eyes drooping, legs on the verge of coming unspooled.

A moment later Princess Esfir toppled sideways into the side of the supply closet, unsetting a half dozen brooms with a cacophonous clatter that seemed to echo through the entire palace. The bottle clicked to the stone and rolled in a half circle off to the corner, still leaking.

The cat and dog exchanged a frightened, confused look, then started towards the unconscious princess.

Esfir swam back to consciousness only slowly, her head throbbing, a curious, warm sensation running up and down her arm. She was lying on her back, she realized, clothes completely off and-

She jolted, trying to get away, but only managed to flop into the side of the copper wash basin, which rang like a bell. The dog, who was right next to her, held up his paws, a crimson blotched washcloth clutched in one.

"Hey, hey..." He cautioned, eyes still wide and uneasy, "...you're okay now. We're friends."

Esfir sat fully up, the world spinning alarmingly before her eyes. Both the calico and the dog were in her bathroom, the calico examining her silver...

"Give that back." Esfir said sharply, desperation making her voice crack. Speaking so forcefully made her head hurt even worse, but the calico blinked hard, looking suddenly guilty, and set the dagger carefully onto the counter next to the sink.

"You, uh...you breathed in about a half bottle of paint thinner." He said, gaze kept carefully averted from her.

Esfir glanced quickly down, daring to take her eyes away from the dog for a split second, and realized just what she had to look like, bloodied and shivering, her fur in complete disarray...

"Did the Lord Sovereign do this to you...?" The dog asked uneasily, paws dropping to his lap. He was sitting cross legged, his clothes still on. Both of them were still fully dressed, Esfir realized. For a half second she was confused as to why, surely they'd want to abuse her, but strangely, bizarrely, they were making no move to do so.

Had the Lord Sovereign ordered this? Was he trying to lure her into a sense of false security?

But no...surely not. They'd been coming from the opposite direction the Lord Sovereign had gone, and he'd been all too ready to write her off as broken before supper. They had to be doing this on their own initiative, but why?

Taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself, Esfir managed to nod, still tense and ready to run for her quarters if either guard decided to do anything she didn't like. A part of her considered going for the silver dagger, but it was right next to the calico. He'd grab her if she tried, she knew that already.

The dog winced, looking plaintively to the cat, who sighed, shoulders slumping.

"We knew this when we signed on." He said, but his gaze was still directed well away from Esfir. The tip of his tail twitched incessantly, sweeping a floor blotched with crimson.

"But," the dog halfheartedly protested, "but she's..." He looked to Esfir, who couldn't help but stiffen, "...how old are you?"

"Twelve." Esfir said, voice quiet.

"Twelve," the dog repeated, "that's...you can't do that to a little girl."

The calico chewed the inside of one cheek, ears twitching, half pinned back, scratching at his markings, which almost made him look like he was wearing a mask, auburn on one side of his face, black on the other.

"I...fuck." He muttered.

"Don't swear around her," the dog said, ears flattening with muted dismay, "she's a princess."

"Was a princess," the calico sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "she's awake now, we should-"

"I'm Fedir," the dog said, ignoring his companion, "and that's August. He's sullen."

"Sullen?" The calico, August, demanded, fur beginning to bristle.

"You told me it last week," Fedir the dog said as he scratched his black furred muzzle with one claw, attention having drifted from Esfir, "you match the definition right now."

"Right, fuck me for trying to give you a fucking education...I'm not sullen, I'm saying that if we mess around with the Lord Sovereign's business we're gonna regret it."

"Clean your mouth," Fedir shook his head reproachfully at August the calico, "anyhow, we're um...you really can't die, can you?"

"Fedir..." August warned, folding his arms.

Esfir watched the exchange, quietly baffled by the surreal turn of events, almost disarmed by just how odd things had become. She managed to nod, then shake her head, then simply shrug, confused by the question.

"I...um..." She blinked hard, unable to get out any more words.

"Yeah, we knew this," August said impatiently, "now come on..."

Fedir seemed to be in no great rush, a deep sort of curiosity bleeding through the apprehension and concern already writ across his face.

"We're going to run this girl a bath," he decided, giving August a sidelong glance as he did so, "I want you to find the soaps."

"Fedir." The calico said again, voice sharper.

"Say, she's about the same age as the little neighbor girl back-"

"Stop." August growled, fur bristling, "...I'll get the fucking soap, I'll stay for the fucking bath...just don't talk about that...okay?"

Fedir smiled, unworried by his companion's surly mood, and got slowly to his feet, taking care not to make any quick moves in Esfir's direction as he turned the taps on and tested the temperature of the water.

"He acts tough," the dog said, eyes landing on Esfir, voice dropping low into an almost conspiratorial tone, "...and he swears around girls...but August is really very nice."

Esfir nodded slightly. The calico had gone to the very back of the bathroom and was collecting soaps and scented oils, clearly in quiet awe of the luxuries stocked back there. If he heard Fedir's words he gave no indication.

She had decided by now that the two guards probably weren't going to attack her, but still felt strange and uneasy around them. Having people in the employ of the Lord Sovereign show genuine concern for her felt...weird.

She could feel heat beginning to carry slowly through the sides of the wash basin and took a deep breath, deciding consciously to relax just a little bit. She was safe...for just this moment she was actually safe.

After some time August returned with a handful of lavender scented saps and oils. He'd clearly gone to some effort to match them all, and Esfir felt distantly appreciative of that, even as she squirmed uncomfortably as he passed by to add them to the bath, only a few feet from her.

"Why are..." She had to take a deep breath before continuing, "why are you working for him? You're...nice."

The two guards exchanged a look, August looking almost amused, Fedir's ears drooping.

"One hundred kopeks." August said at last, a sigh tracing his words. "A month."

Esfir blinked. That sum of money meant nothing to her. Was it a lot? A little? Her confusion must have showed, for August blew out a disgruntled breath, still not looking at her. His gaze had settled on the far end of the room, where the rows and rows of imported soaps and oils were.

"The Lord Sovereign does pay well..." Fedir admitted with a wince, "it wasn't anything personal against your family, I never thought you were demons or-"

"Fedir," the calico cut the dog off, looking almost embarrassed on his behalf, "...maybe we should...we should leave her alone."

For a moment Esfir was almost relieved, then a sudden thought struck her. If these, apparently harmless, guards were to leave then surely they'd be replaced by another pair, or maybe even more. Those guards would be unknown to her and for all she knew...

A little whimper worked its way loose from her throat before she could stop it, and Esfir saw August's ears twitch once more, the calico hunching his shoulders slightly, as though bracing himself against a frigid wind.

"...Where are you from?" She asked, almost desperately.

Fedir gave August a worried glance and named a place that Esfir knew to be in the south of the country, nearby to the mountains.

"We're from the same town," the dog said, nodding at August, who looked quietly dismayed that Fedir was giving this information away, "we've always been together. Except for school. August went to school in the capital." As he spoke he turned off the taps, the bath apparently ready.

Esfir glanced cautiously back. It looked inviting, mounds of white bubbles having formed over top of gently steaming water. Slowly, she rose up, still feeling slightly woozy, and stepped into the water, sinking down. A part of her was all too aware that she was more vulnerable like this, sat back and weighed down under what felt like a ton of warm, lavender scented water, but the rest simply couldn't muster up the energy to stay scared.

Being frightened all the time was exhausting, and taking the moment simply to snatch some semblance of relaxation from her situation was immensely appealing. All the same, Esfir still couldn't bring herself to completely trust the guards. They still wore the Lord Sovereign's colors.

As she watched, the bottom layer of bubbles began to tint crimson as blood loosened from her fur. Esfir shut her eyes and sniffled.

"I studied law," August said quietly, arms folded tightly, body language alight with discomfort, "in the capital. It's beautiful there."

Esfir opened her eyes, slightly surprised that the calico had decided to say something of his own volition. She nodded slightly.

"Did you see the rose gardens?" She asked quietly.

"I'm not highborn," August said, "those are for the nobility."

"Oh." Esfir felt her ears pin back, gaze returning to the water.

For a moment there was silence, then August turned to face her more fully, his gaze still slightly abstract but eyes more or less on her now.

"The Lord Sovereign," he said at last, "did he..." The calico sighed, clearly unsure if he wanted to proceed, "did he touch you?"

Esfir drew her knees to her chest under the water, her breath blowing a little trench through the mound of bubbles in front of her face. Once more, her tail slid firmly between her legs.

August sighed, picking Esfir's answer from her silence, and jammed his paws into his pockets, chewing the inside of his cheek harder. Fedir remained where he was, ears drooping, tail gone limp behind him. August's question looked to have dispirited the dog.

"Maybe we could ask the Lord Sovereign for guard duty watching her." He said at last, a faint look of hopeful optimism appearing on his face, ears perking just a little.

August said nothing, just stared hard at the floor, looking troubled.

For a long time the three of them were silent. Esfir slowly scrubbed the blood from her fur, the ache in her head dissipating as the warm water undid whatever the paint thinner had done to her before.

She'd been very lucky, she realized, to have come face to face with these guards out of all the others that could have conceivably found her. She didn't know what she'd have done if she'd woken up to the fox rutting her once more.

The water had gone distinctly red around her by the time the water began to lose its heat. Fedir maintained a hopeful, insistent gaze, laser focused on August. The calico blew out a breath and glanced upwards, as if asking God himself deliver him from his present situation.

Esfir took a deep breath.

"Could you?" She asked, voice quiet.

August glanced over, visibly surprised, and managed a faint nod.

"I do the talking," he said, holding up a finger to interrupt the mini celebration Fedir looked ready to begin, "...and don't mention any of this."

The dog nodded dutifully, miming locking his muzzle and throwing away the key. August, Esfir saw, looked distinctly nervous but not quite regretful. The cat's eyes traveled back over to her.

"He's probably gonna say no, but..." For a moment the calico looked lost for words, abjectly miserable in his realization of just how little he could help the little wolf before him, "we'll try to keep an eye on you." The last few words came out almost in a mumble, the calico stepping out of the bathroom and into Esfir's bedroom, paws still lodged in his pockets.

Fedir, seeming to recognize that it was time to go, stood and moved over to the counter beside the sink, delicately picking up the little silver dagger.

"If he ever tries to touch you again," the dog said gravely, "stick this in his eye." The words seemed to put an almost subversive thrill through him, but it was tempered by the utter grimness of the subject matter he was discussing.

Neither of the guards really seemed to know how to react to the revelation of her abuse, but...well...Esfir didn't blame them. She herself hardly knew how to deal with any of it, and somehow she felt only more anxious upon making their acquaintance.

More hope...

But that hope was a mere flicker against an inky black fog of dread and terrible potential for future days.

Still, she forced herself to think, she'd met some people who seemed sympathetic to her plight. That had to mean something.

Right?