Dominion 2

Authors note:

This is an extremely dark tale. I considered putting it in the non-consent section simply because some of the scenes in the later chapters were almost too hard for me to write, let alone read. I deliberated after some thought that the overall story would be better off in the fantasy section instead. So if you have a tender heart or stomach, this is not the tale for you.

Also, the sex WILL come, I promise. But it will be some time before I get to that. I want the relationships between the characters to be realistic to their own personal development, and I feel that rushing the sex for the sake of instant gratification would not do this story justice. So if a quick fix is what you are after, this is also not the tale for you.

At any rate, I hope you enjoy the story, and I pray it is good enough to keep you all coming back. Thank you for giving my book a shot!

Prologue

"Save her! You have to!"

"But you'll die!"

"I don't care!"

Nora screamed and clutched the mattress, straining to push the foreign object from her body. A massive form stood overhead, directing light through her abdomen as she shrieked once more. Light drowned the room, the faint drone of voices fading out beneath the ringing in her ears. Nora looked around with bleary eyes, but could only make out two indistinct figures that cast eerie shadows as they towered over her writhing body.

A small creature settled into Nora's arms, and she sighed in relief. It was over. She could finally sleep.

"She's beautiful."

"Stay with me Nora! You better not die on me, dammit!"

Blue hair and eyes adorned the tiny infant she held. Nora smiled down at the child as the room erupted in blue flames.

"I love you."

Nora woke up screaming, sweat trickling from her body and tears spilling from her pale blue eyes. Every night she awoke this way and as her eyes opened in the dull confines of her bedroom, the dream receded to the edge of awareness. Flickers of memories danced out of reach as she struggled to recall what terrified her in the first place.

Nothing came to her, and it simply drove her further into panic and fury. She sat up in her bed and peered around the room, attempting in a half conscious stupor to discern where she was. This wasn't the nightmarish room of her dreams. Taking in the sight of her own chambers, the thought of sleep fled her muddled mind as the familiar black luster of marble stones brought a measure of comfort. The walls reached into the arched ceiling that curved into the rounded tower marking the western part of the castle. Torches sat extinguished in their iron holds, and the earthy chill of the room helped sober her as she took a deep breath of the crisp night air. She absently stroked the black silk linens that draped over her body as she picked her brain for anything she might recall from this recent nightmare.

It was futile, and she wished her brother was there to distract her from her warring emotions. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, speculating where he might be this hour of the night. He was seldom far, and her screaming usually brought him running.

Too drained to mull it over, Nora slipped beneath the covers and did her best to return to sleep.

Chapter 1

The door to the dungeon swung open as a set of guards carried a young Kyaga man through the entrance. He looked to be of royalty, and held an unshakable dignity about him even as he was treated with scorn and disgust. His white hair fell in thin wisps about his pale face, and his piercing blue eyes never faltered in their glare at anyone who dared to look his way. He was dragged to the far back and tossed inside the last cell on the right, where he was kept in company with a group of other prisoners. The door slammed and locked behind him, and he adjusted the power suppressing bracelet clasped over his wrist while he surveyed the other people he was locked up with. His chin jutted out and he held his head high as he stared each of them in the eye.

He may be innocent of the crime he had been accused of, but he was no push over. He was a hardened warrior, and killing was in his nature. He would not hesitate to demonstrate that to anyone who intended on trying their luck with him.

"Oy, a

new

one!" one prisoner shrugged off the wall and met his stare with a grin. "Whats yer name, mister

fancy

?"

"Trysten," he replied with a cold stare in the direction of the man who had addressed him. "Do you intend to throw a welcoming party for me? Because I'm most definitely interested in letting off some steam."

The man shrunk back like he had been bitten, and quickly tried to recover. The sneer he shot in the new prisoners direction was not very believable, and Trysten could practically taste the fear rippling from the others at the mention of his name. His mouth ticked up in a half smile as he strode to the bench. All but one woman scrambled to move away, and he regarded her with mild interest. A Tourik, and an arrogant one at that. She sent him a sideways glance before readjusting herself and leaning farther back against the wall.

"You don't intimidate

me

, Prince."

"You haven't given me a valid reason to try."

Kara's mouth curved up at the corners, and she hooted in delight. She knew his name, just like anyone else in Aeradil. The true question here, was how the

only

heir to the Dominions throne found himself inside of his fathers very own dungeon. Considering who he was, he must have done something grave. Contrary to her words and outward demeanor, she would be lying if she denied his very

presence

sent the hairs on the back of her neck to attention. She couldn't recall the last time a Tourik got this close to him and lived to tell the tale. Very few survived an encounter with this one, and it was no question why everyone in the dungeon wanted to keep their distance.

That being said, he wasn't vicious by nature. In fact he was very... Apathetic about it. The Dominion were violent by default, but he was different from the rest. Killing was a chore to him, and something only to be acted out if necessary. His lack of interest in it made the brutality of the act even more fearsome. Slicing a throat was akin to cutting butter at a kitchen table. Did he even remember the people he killed? Did he ever regret his actions? She highly doubted he gave any of it a second thought. He carried out every order without flinching, and it was a wonder that he even had a heart.

She was distracted by the sound of begging and crying as the guards dragged another prisoner to their cell. The small Daegra female was pleading with them, her gray eyes wide and fearful as she futily resisted the men who were dragging her toward the back of the dungeon. Kara grimaced in irritation, knowing all too well that the pudgy fuck in charge of keeping the keys was to blame for this. He got some sick satisfaction out of hearing her misery, and he did what he could to keep her in the same cell with the bastard Naugu who enjoyed tormenting her.

The Overlords step son rearranged the prisoners earlier that day to make room for Trysten's arrival, but it was only a matter of time before the issue would have been remedied again. As soon as the door was slammed shut, she cowered against it and watched her tormentor like a field mice watches its predator... And wouldn't you know it, a sick smile grew on his face as he shrugged away from the wall he was leaning against. He was angry due to his earlier encounter with Trysten, and wanted to take it out on his favorite toy. Kara looked to the side as Trysten tensed beside her, and she was intrigued by the frown marring his features. From the look of it, he was not enjoying the sudden turn of events. He crossed his arms and sat back... But from the expression on his face, he was coiling for an attack.

Interesting. Maybe there

was

a heart somewhere in there after all.

"Ello miss lady. Thought ye' was gonna get away from me, huh?" he sauntered over to her side of the cell. "I think the guards like hearing ye' beg fer mercy."

"Please-"

"If you want to keep your life, I suggest you leave the woman alone," Trysten's voice was a calm murmur, almost seductive in its tone as he leaned forward. "You had better keep your hands to yourself."

"Oh? And what're ye' gonna do about it, mister high n' mighty? If it ain't me, it sure as hell's gonna be someone else dying to shove 'is chubby shaft up 'er tight little cunt."

The Naugu turned back to his prize with a nasty gleam in his eye, and the girl whimpered as she slid along the wall to get away from him. Reaching out to grab her by the hair, he yanked her toward him and then walked her back ward until she was pressed into the corner of the cell. Her struggling was futile, and she shrieked in terror as his other hand pressed against her stomach. His palm began a teasing journey up her chest as she pleaded with him again.

Before he could continue with his plans, however, a familiar voice distracted him once more.

"Tell me," Trysten began again with that same feather light tone. He stood slowly from his place on the bench and approached the man like a tiger stalking its prey, "have you ever killed a man?"

"Who hasn't?" the Naugu paused in his torments to turn and assess the new challenge before him, releasing the victim from his grasp in the process. "Get to the damn point."

"Some people say its exciting. Taking the life of another gives them a rush that can be rather addicting," he drew closer, his voice terribly inviting. "Would you agree with that sentiment?"

The Daegra girl used the distraction as a chance to edge herself away from the man who was now fixed on Trysten. He was too shocked to reply, his predicament finally registering in his nervous expression. He did his best not to show his fear, but he knew that he was no real match for the Prince. The girls eyes fluttered between them as she waited for the perfect chance to bolt. Tensed and ready to spring, she watched the scene play out before her. The Prince had been slowly placing himself between her and the Naugu, and had managed to grab his full attention now. Was the conversation simply a distraction so she could escape him as she planned? Her eyes fixed on Trysten when he spoke again.

"Do you know why people fear me?" his smile was cold as he took another step into the Naugu's personal space. "I can

smell

your fear, scum. I can taste it on my tongue. That might excite others, but you see, the reason people fear me is because I don't care, one way or another. You could die laughing in my face. You could beg, or curse, or try to run... but in the end, you're dead either way."

Before the bastard could speak, Trysten threw the curve of his palm straight into his jugular, and with a fluid motion, spun low to kick his feet out from underneath him. In a blinding flash he was on top of the man, and had his throat gripped tightly between his fingers. The Naugu gasped for breath and slashed out with his sharpened nails, leaving three large scratches on Trysten's neck. The pain was minimal and did not distract him from the task at hand.

Trysten pressed harder on his esophagus and watched in contempt as the vile prisoner beneath him struggled for air. The Naugu's hands wrapped desperately around Trysten's wrist and the blood dripping down onto their hands gave him the upper hand he needed to cause Trysten to lose his grip. He wrenched his wrists away, causing the price lose balance and tumble onto the floor beside the gasping prisoner. Trysten smiled as they both picked themselves up off the ground.

"You are handling yourself far better than I expected," with arms out wide and palms facing skyward, Trysten took an open stance of one who had no fear of his opponent. "I'm impressed."

"Stop talkin' and start fightin'!"

"As you wish, scum."

By this time, the entire dungeon was looking on with a sick sense of curiosity. The two men circled each other at an arms length, sizing each other up as they waited to see who would strike first. Trysten was a patient man, and his decision to allow the Naugu to have the first strike was purely strategical. The swing was wild and undisciplined, arcing in a upward stroke that was easy to predict. The prince allowed the fist to connect with his chin, feigning surprise in a way that would make the Naugu cocky. He took a step back and shook it off, watching and waiting as his opponent shot him a shit eating grin.

Armed with nothing but an apathetic stare and a passive stance, Trysten wiped the blood from his neck with his hands before closing them into fists. The red liquid stained the front of his shirt as it ran down his chest to the inside of his left arm, and it began to dry over his skin. As it coagulated in his hands, it became as an adhesive that would maintain the position of his fists when he made his attack. His opponent charged recklessly and swung again, but Trysten avoided the attack with ease and kicked the Naugu's feet out from beneath him once again. It was pitifully easy, toying with the naive twit. He had fallen for the same attack twice.

"Children never learn," he lamented with an irritated sigh as he stomped harshly on the vermin's throat for good measure. He held his position until he felt the body relax its struggling. Looking around, he smiled sweetly at anyone who dared to make eye contact with him.

Much better. You people would do well not to forget who, and what, I am.

"Guards," Trysten called as he stepped over the body, "There is room in this cell for another prisoner."

"What are you on about?" The guard paused, unsure of how to react to the mangled corpse. "The hell is going here?"

"He slipped," one of Trysten's cellmates called out with mock seriousness, and a few of the others chuckled at the sarcastic reply. "Should've been more careful, the clumsy lad. These prison floors're

mighty

slippery."

The guard glared at him for a moment, but his gray-blue eyes were all for Trysten, and as the guard followed suit, they locked gazes and Trysten shrugged nonchalantly at him before turning to the woman who was now curled up in the corner. She stared at him with wide gray eyes as he approached her and she began to scurry even closer against the wall in an attempt to escape him. Crouching down to eye level with her, he assessed her panicked mannerisms with a frown and wiped his hands onto his pants.

"It's alright, sweetling. I mean you no harm," he cooed softly as he reached out and brushed her black hair away from her face. "What is your name, little one?"

"A... Aryn," she stammered, flinching away when he sat beside her and pulled her onto his lap. "Please...

please

, I-"

"Shh, you're safe now," he dropped his voice to a soothing whisper as he allowed her to find a comfortable position on his lap. "Sleep while you can, Aryn. I may not be here in the morning."

When she was certain he wouldn't hurt her, she rested her head against his shoulder and brought her knees up to her chest in a fetal position. He ran his fingers through her hair while she relaxed into his arms, and took he the moment to look around at his other cell mates. The dead man had been dragged out, and a new man brought in. He looked nervously at the others before sliding to the ground where Aryn previously stood against the door. He looked a little young, his trembling fingers threaded together as his gaze darted around the cell without making eye contact with anyone. Trysten wondered why a Gaidec was so far from his homeland, but decided against questioning the boy.

The woman lounging on the bench looked completely unimpressed with everyone around her, and she sat with her eyes closed, as if she had nothing to worry about. By the look of her dark brown hair and olive complexion, Trysten assumed she was a Tourik prisoner of war. She must have been a fighter of some sort before being put in here, her fearless demeanor being somewhat similar to his sister Nora.

The man who had answered the guard was standing in the opposite corner with his arms crossed, and he was watching Trysten with a wry grin on his face. He appeared to be a cross breed. His fair skin and piercing gray-blue eyes were proof of his Kyaga heritage, but the jet black hair and slightly pointed ears revealed a bit of Daegra in his blood. Seeing a Kyaga half breed was rare in any case, as it was illegal to weaken the bloodline. It was an interesting find, and he wondered how the abomination managed to survive to adulthood. Half breeds were typically killed as a message for those who might think of attempting such a thing themselves.

As it was, the Daegra seemed far too curious in the way he watched Trysten, and it was starting to irritate the Prince.

"Do we have a problem?" he hissed, petting Aryn's hair again when his voice made her jump. "I'd hate to have to move the girl. I don't think you would like what happens next."

"Nah, I don't have beef with ye', lad," he returned with an even wider grin. "The last person I'd wanna fuck with is ye', Prince. Just wonderin' why yer in here."

"I was accused of murder," he replied. "I will most likely be banished by morning."

"So did ye' do it?" he asked as he moved his weight to the other foot. "Did ye' kill the guy?"

"No," Trysten observed the mans smug reaction with an apathetic stare, "but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? They believe I did, so I might as well have. Its not as if I'm incapable of murder."

"Ah, looks like ye' catch on quick," the Daegra crouched down onto the balls of his feet. "Tis' the story of half the poor bastards in here."

"Is that so?" Trysten considered thoughtfully. He never really noticed how corrupted the justice system was. It hadn't affected him personally before, so it didn't truly concern him in the past. "I never realized just how blind I was to my peoples suffering until I, too, became a victim of it."

"Well if it makes ye' feel any better, ye' weren't the first, lad," he chuckled, "and ye' sure as hell won't be the last."

"That only makes me feel worse," Trysten admitted with a sad smile. "What is your name?"

"I go by Joel these days," the half-breed huffed out as he sat down with his legs stretched out, "and by all means, if ye' don't like the way things are, then change em."

"I would if I had the opportunity," Trysten frowned as he considered the situation. "I'll be far gone from here this time tomorrow."

"Ye' gonna let that stop ye' boy?" Joel tapped at his knee and grinned a devilish grin. "The Kyaga've always been this way. Fussin' and bickerin' over the throne like children. Come back with an army and the people will bow to ye' just as soon as they would yer pops."

"Well as you can see, someone seems to have beaten me to that idea."

"All the better! Let the bastards kill each other and then swoop in and take whats rightfully yers. If ye' want it bad enough, ye'll fight fer it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The sharp response seemed to silence the Daegra for a moment, and he regarded Trysten in a new light.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say ye' weren't Kyaga at all. There ain't a lick of fire in ye'," he mused, and then rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Well, I wouldn't say that. But yer colder than the rest, and more calculated. Not afraid to stand up and do whats right. The sweet lass cuddled on yer lap is proof of that."

"Are you questioning my determination?"

"I'm sayin ye' got a big heart, the way ye' protected a gal ye' don't even know. Yet ye' dropped that man only minutes ago and ye' aren't even phased by it. A compassionate killer is a hard line to walk, lad. But ye' do it well," he continued after a moments pause. "ye' got a good head on yer shoulders. Don't let it go to waste. Most of these scrum're only out fer themselves. ye' could be the change we need in this cesspool."