Chapter Text
Asha stood outside the solid, oaken double-doors which led to the dungeon—a place she had not set foot in for quite some time. Currently, it held only a single prisoner. She took a breath, smoothed her long, blue dress, and reminded herself that she was not the child she’d once been.
“Be brave, Asha,” Valentino said softly. He was old and gray now. His deep voice suited him better.
She smiled, though it felt stiff and unconvincing on her face. “He’s helpless, in this state. There’s nothing for me to fear.” Yet her hands were shaking. She squeezed them into fists, willing them to be still. When the shaking stopped, she pointed her wand at the doors. They creaked open, revealing a long, stone hallway lit by sputtering torches. Their magical green flames never died, never needed tending or replacing. She said, "Wait here," to Valentino. Then she strode down the hallway, past empty, barred cells, to the room at the very end. With another twitch of her wand, the barred cell door opened.
Inside the cell, King Magnifico—no, she reminded herself, just Magnifico—was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back, a heavy, iron collar around his neck, a single green jewel glinting at the throat. From the collar, a thick chain ran to the ceiling. His ankles, too, were manacled, making it impossible for him to stand.
He raised his head and blinked a few times at her, squinting. “Amaya?” There was a hint of hope, quavering and fragile, in his voice.
She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just waited for his eyes to adjust. When they finally focused on her, the hopeful expression vanished behind an irritated scowl. He snorted. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yes.”
“Well, thank goodness someone finally came,” he said dryly. “I’ve been so bored. Though I must admit, I’m disappointed. I thought Amaya would at least have the guts to face me herself, rather than sending a child to speak to me on her behalf. Although…” He blinked again, frowned. “No longer quite a child, I suppose. How long has it been?”
“Eight years.”
“Hm. Time gets a bit fuzzy when you’re trapped inside a magic staff, I suppose.” He shifted. He’d been bound in that position for hours; by now, he was probably in severe discomfort, if not pain, but he didn’t show it.
Well, Magnifico was no stranger to pain. He had lost everything, once, and had built this kingdom from the bricks of his own grief and determination. He could be vain, foolish, arrogant, but he was not a weak man. She could not allow herself to forget that.
“Well, go on,” he said. “Clearly, Amaya decided to free me from that accursed staff for a reason. Or…does she just miss me that much? Honestly, I'm surprised it took her this long.”
Asha remained where she was, in the cell doorway, staring at him. She kept her expression neutral, mask-like. One hand remained clenched into a tight fist, nails biting into her palm. Her wand remained clutched in her other hand.
“Ooh. Let me guess.” He smirked. “Running a kingdom isn’t quite as easy as it looks, hmm? There’s unrest in Rosas. The economy is in shambles, unemployment has gone up, riots in the streets, enemies threatening to invade. She can’t do this on her own. She needs my sorcery, my expertise, my rugged good looks and charisma—”
“Amaya is dead.”
His face went blank. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, blue eyes dazed and uncomprehending. “What?” he whispered.
“There was a plague,” Asha said quietly. “Just a year after your imprisonment. It claimed the lives of many of our people, the former queen among them. I am the queen.”
Horror washed over his expression. Then, an instant later, it shifted to rage. “You’re lying,” he growled.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to mentor me, to guide me, for years to come. We had so little time together, but still, before she passed, she charged me with the task of—”
“You’re lying!” His irises glowed green. The jewel on the collar glowed the same shade, and green electricity crackled inside and around it, spreading over his body. He screamed, his back arching. His muscles convulsed.
Asha stood where she was, keeping her face expressionless, as he continued to thrash and gasp for a long, agonizing ten seconds. Then he went limp, panting, trembling, face drenched with sweat. His blue eyes, now glazed with pain, lifted to hers. A line of drool ran from the corner of his mouth.
“If you attempt to use forbidden sorcery again,” she said stiffly, “or any form of sorcery without my explicit permission, the collar will punish you.”
He stared at her for a moment, fear flickering in his eyes…then he laughed hoarsely. “Well, you’ve become unexpectedly ruthless and twisted. I’m a little impressed. That lie about my wife—diabolical. Well done. I'm not so easily taken in, though. Your technique needs a bit of work.”
“I wish that it was a lie,” Asha said. “Believe me.”
His breathing quickened. A muscle at the corner of his eye twitched.
“Your guess was essentially correct,” Asha said, “much as I’m loathe to admit it. I never had a chance to learn properly about the art of ruling. The kingdom of Rosas is in shambles. The plague left us all grieving, picking up the pieces, and our people never truly recovered. We are tearing ourselves apart.”
“And what of your magic star?” he sneered.
“It’s gone, as you know. And without it, I’m not strong enough to fix this. Not alone.”
“So you come crawling to me for help. After you betrayed me. My, my. And what do you intend to offer me in return?”
She flicked her wand. The green jewel glowed again. She watched expressionlessly, a dull ache in her chest, as he writhed and screamed. Electricity crackled. When he finally went limp, groaning, a wet stain had soaked through the crotch of his immaculate white trousers. He looked down, and a small, pained noise escaped his throat, as though this small indignity hurt him more than the torture itself.
“Let me be clear,” Asha said, “on the nature of our relationship. This is not an alliance. I am not bargaining. You will not have a choice. You will be my tool. I will use your mind and your magic the way you once used the wishes of our people. And until you accept that…I will hurt you as much as I need to.” Her voice cracked only slightly on the last sentence.
"Don't be a fool," he said flatly. "You don't have the stomach for it."
"No? We'll see."
He looked broken and helpless, sagging in his restraints. But she could see the gleam of murder in his eyes. She reminded herself that she could not afford to underestimate him. If she let down her guard for a moment, he would find a way to turn it to his advantage.
“This…” He let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. “This is the thanks I get? For everything I did for you, for the people of Rosas? This is preposterous. Undo these chains at once. Let me out of this accursed cell. Let me see Amaya. Let me see my wife.”
“That’s impossible. As I said. If you wish to see her tomb, I could arrange that, but—”
“No. No, no, no, no.” He thrashed, straining, roaring, until the collar glowed green again.
As he screamed, Asha retreated from the cell and shut the door behind her, breathing hard. She waited in the hallway, clutching her wand, as his screams died down into moans, and then into quiet, hoarse sobs.
“Amaya,” he whispered. “Amaya, no, no. It isn't true."
Asha closed her eyes. “I will—” she took a breath and called out, mustering all the authority she could—“I will give you some privacy to grieve. I’ll return later with food and water.”
He fell silent. Only his raspy breathing echoed through the dungeon. She peeked through the cell door's small, barred window to see him slumped over, head bowed, hair disheveled. He didn't move.
After checking to make sure that the cell door was secure, she walked quickly down the stone hallway, through the open doors at the end, into the small room at the bottom of the long, granite staircase which led to the dungeon. Valentino still waited there, sitting like a dog. Asha leaned against the wall and put a hand over her face. “That was…even harder than I thought,” she muttered.
“Cruelty does not come easily to you,” Valentino said gently. “And you loved him once. As all Rosas’ people did.”
“Yes.” Loved him and looked up to him. There’d been a time—it felt like another life, now—when she’d been so thrilled at the prospect of becoming his apprentice. He’d seemed so benevolent, so wise and gentle. How she’d longed to see those blue eyes shining on her with approval…and then she’d watched him become twisted into something barely recognizable. But of course, the darkness had always been there, beneath the surface. She’d willfully blinded herself to it. She’d known, deep down, that there was something perverse about the system. But Magnifico had a talent for making people want to see the best in him. She would not be so foolish again.
“I’d best start preparing a meal for him,” she said, and started up the stairs.
Valentino trotted after her. “Wouldn’t that be a task better suited to a servant?”
“No. If I intend to do this—to break him and then wield him like a weapon to restore order to Rosas—then it’s best that I be his primary caretaker. I must be the one to break and rebuild him. His loyalty must be to me, and me alone.”
Valentino gave her a worried look, but he said nothing.
She kept trudging up the stairs. This was for Rosas, she reminded herself. For her people, for what remained of her family. She would become whatever she needed to become.