Dark Lord in Chains 3

After my interesting discussion with Princess Aria, rest of my day was surprisingly routine. I spent the rest of my time using the minuscule amount of magic I had access to weaken my magical restrictions. It was a rather fruitless work, as despite working on it for the whole night, I wasn’t able to increase my access from two grains to three. 

On the positive side, it turned out to be an excellent exercise for control, allowing me to make a marked improvement in my ability to handle magic. I smirked, imagining the expression on Lancelot’s face if he knew I was using his priceless artifact as a training machine. Pity I couldn’t reveal that particular detail. 

It was almost noon the next day when the door of my cell opened once more, and Lancelot walked in, followed by Isolde and Emma. Aria was on the other side of the door, and made an attempt to enter, but Isolde stood in front of the door. Lancelot spoke. “We have talked about this, sweetheart. You can’t stay inside, you’re too fragile for this,” Lancelot explained, unaware just how patronizing he sounded. 

“I should be there, I can heal him better if I see how he gets wounded,” Aria answered, showing a surprising amount of spine for her, but she still nodded in defeat when Lancelot rejected her offer. Baby steps, I decided. 

When he turned to face me, Lancelot had a hard expression on his face, mixed with exasperation. This time, they started differently. He nodded at Isolde, and immediately, Isolde’s foot collided with my ribs. Rather painfully, I must add. “Come on, Byron. We both know that you’re going to talk eventually. Everyone breaks. I just don’t want to hurt you too bad before you do.” 

“I know you won’t,” I answered with a bloody smile, well aware that Lancelot was not worried about my wellbeing, but his own self-perception of virtue. He wanted to be the good guy who didn’t rely on torture, but the more painful techniques they used, the less he could convince himself that what they were doing was just some ‘innocent’ enhanced interrogation. I decided to push them a bit. “Luckily, your sluts are too weak to properly hurt me,” I said. 

My response was another kick, this time even more reckless, and I felt my ribs giving in. But Isolde smashed her foot once again without waiting for a response, hurting me even more. Through the pain and the red mist, I saw Isolde gearing up for yet another one, this time even more of her weight behind her. If connected, it had the risk of actually killing me, but Lancelot managed to hold her back. “Pathetic,” I murmured despite the pain. I added, They were truly amateurs, allowing their prisoner to anger them, enough to deliver a deadly wound. 

Lancelot started berating Isolde while Emma watched with clear satisfaction in her eyes. And it wasn’t my pain she enjoyed, not when her eyes were locked on Lancelot as he berated Isolde. She clearly enjoyed the situation Isolde found herself in, aware that Isolde was yet another barrier in her desire to snag Lancelot for herself. 

“I guess that’s it for today,” I said with a smug smile after watching them fighting for a couple of minutes. 

“What are you talking about,” Lancelot answered, surprised. 

“Well, I’m not fully confident on the count, but it feels like she broke about five of my ribs, and some of them are digging in whenever I breathe. If you continue, I’ll die, and you’ll never get the Eternal Core,” I said calmly. I could feel amused at the panic on their face. Here I was, chained, wounded, and magically-blocked, but still I had the control of the situation. Despite the pain, I enjoyed that fact. 

Pride was a dangerous vice, but one I enjoyed nonetheless.  

“You’re lying,” Isolde said, but she was smart enough to understand that another kick wouldn’t solve her concerns. 

“You guys really need to find a professional to help you,” I helpfully offered, smiling despite the pain, enjoying the way they had to listen to my words. No wonder Queen Sapphire was playing them like puppets for her own needs. 

When they looked at me incredulously, I couldn’t help but another quip. “If you guys can’t find a professional, go to the library. I’m sure there’s a book called Torture for Idiots.” 

They didn’t look like they appreciated my comment, though whether it was about calling them idiots, or the fact that I mentioned the T-word, I wasn’t sure. Lancelot looked at me confused, once again unable to fathom a presence that didn’t follow his idiotic lead… That was the problem with chosen ones, they were too used to solving their problems with their sword or their reputation. They were rather helpless when neither was an option. 

He said nothing, but opened the door, revealing Aria who was sitting on a chair directly in front of the door. She took one look at me, and gasped in panic, her experienced eyes easily seeing the signs of danger, just another credit to her sheer ability. “What did you do?” she gasped at Lancelot but dashed forward, pushing him to the side. 

“Just a bit of a miscalculation,” Lancelot said sheepishly, but Aria looked at him like he was an idiot after poking my chest a couple of times. Due to the interference from the chains, she didn’t use diagnostic charms, but broken ribs didn’t require magic to diagnose. 

“Miscalculation!” Aria said. “He’ll die of internal bleeding in an hour if I don’t do anything. What were you trying to calculate.” She was furious. Her healer instincts and her distaste toward torture explained some of it, but not all of it. 

It was clear that our earlier encounter had created a bond, which was not surprising. Even without my additional manipulations, imprisoning someone for a long time usually led to some unhealthy emotional attachment, something I had observed a lot in kidnapping victims. 

“Is it that serious?” Lancelot asked. “Can’t you just heal him?” 

“It would take just a second,” she answered, and Lancelot sighed in relief. “As soon as you remove the chains for a moment,” Aria added, and just like that, Lancelot’s smile was replaced with a grim expression. 

“Out of the question,” he answered sharply, then his eyes brightened like a child who just solved a difficult math problem. “It’s his plan all along, he wants us to remove the chains, so that he can try to escape. I won’t allow it!” 

“Then it’ll take me at least three days to cure him until he’s fit enough to handle more of your treatment,” Aria countered. I was the only one that realized that her blush wasn’t just due to her anger. 

“Three days?” Lancelot said. “I’m sure you can do it quicker,” he said with a bright smile. 

“M-maybe,” Aria suddenly stammered, this time, the reason for her blush was clear. Her crush on him was strong. I didn’t appreciate it. “I’ll try,” she quickly responded. 

“That’s all I ask for,” Lancelot answered with a huge smile, but that part didn’t annoy me. Because that idiot didn’t know what he was doing leaving his fiancee alone with me. He turned to Isolde. “You’re going to stay here to protect her,” he ordered, his tone sharp, clearly unhappy with the delay he was facing. 

Too unhappy, even. Combined with the emergency council meeting of the day before, it wasn’t hard to guess there was something pressuring them, though still not critical enough to resort to really dangerous tricks. 

Lancelot and Emma left the room, though the latter smiled smugly at the two girls that stayed behind, and neither Isolde nor Aria appreciated Emma’s gloating. 

Isolde was more expressive with her anger. She slammed the wall with her fist, uncaring of the pain. “Careful, honey, you’re going to make me homeless if you hit any harder,” I said with a smirk. 

“I’ll kill you,” Isolde exclaimed, only to be stopped by a flare of magic. It was healing magic, and completely harmless, but the light show was enough to remind Isolde of her mistake. 

“He’s wounded enough,” Aria said, but Isolde didn’t look like she was about to listen. “Do you want me to call Lancelot,” Aria added, and only then did Isolde pull back. 

“He’s asking for it,” Isolde said. “I’ll kill him if he says anything else.” 

“He’s goading you, and he’s winning,” Aria answered. “Go sit under a tree and skin a deer or something. I don’t want you here. Healing him is going to be difficult enough without worrying about you destroying all of my hard work for no reason.” 

“I’m supposed to guard you,” Isolde murmured. 

She pointed at my bound figure. “Yes, he’s clearly very dangerous when he’s bound, helpless, and wounded,” Aria said. Normally, I wouldn’t appreciate that statement, but I was interested in Aria’s efforts of making sure that we were alone. “I won’t tell anyone. As long as you stay out of sight, go do whatever you want.” 

Isolde didn’t smile, but she lost her tenseness and nodded slightly, which was the closest she had come to showing appreciation. Then, she turned and left, leaving the door open. I couldn’t help but smile as Aria stood up to close the door. It seemed that the previous suggestions were slowly taking root inside her mind… 

“Won’t you get a chair for yourself?” I asked, and she looked at me questioningly. “Unlike yesterday, you’re going to take a while to finish healing me, so crouching or kneeling isn’t an option if you still want to be able to walk when we finish,” I reminded her. “As much as I enjoyed the view of you hovering above me,” I added with a smirk. 

“Good point,” she said, blushing furiously. 

“Hey, as I said, you’re my favorite,” I answered, smiling back, but from her grimace, I guessed that my smile wasn’t as charming as her shy one in my wounded state. Still, she went out to get her chair, once again closing the door behind her. After she placed the chair, she pressed her hands to my body, and healing energies flooded in, trying to cure the worst of my wounds. 

Like before, the magic-inhibiting chains were blocking her efforts significantly. However, with her full concentration on my wounds, I wasn’t able to redirect her energy to weaken my chains. I needed to distract her. 

Still, I waited about half an hour to speak, enjoying her treatment silently, knowing that her focus wouldn’t slide away until I wasn’t under immediate risk of death. Luckily, even though it was just a sliver, my own magic was helpful in diagnosing my own condition. I didn’t want to die just because I had distracted my healer, after all. 

“So, do you think Emma is working together with Isolde?” I suddenly asked.

“What do you mean, of course, we all work together,” she answered, confused. 

I smiled at her, which looked decent now that the outward signs of my injury were cured. She was so naive, missing my implication. I decided to be more explicit. “Not that way, I’m talking about them working together to seduce your fiancee,” I added. 

“N-no,” she stammered. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” 

“Well,” I murmured. “Considering this is the second time in a row that Isolde had injured me ‘accidentally’, forcing you to stay here, you should realize that she’s trying to keep you away.” 

“She just has an explosive temper,” Aria answered, though doubtful. Then, after a brief consideration, she continued, more confident, and a touch condescending. “She doesn’t have the personality to plan something like that.”

“She might not, but what if Emma was whispering into her ear, suggesting that sharing Lancelot might be the better idea,” I suggested. “After all, Lancelot wouldn’t be the first high-ranking official with visible mistresses.” 

“No, that’s impossible, as a prince-consort, he can’t have mistresses,” Aria answered panickedly. “It would be a big scandal, acceptable even for a hero,” she said, her jealousy clear.  

“Yes,” I answered, glad for the opening. “He won’t be able to have mistresses … if he becomes the prince-consort.” 

Princess Aria took a deep breath, her beautiful blue eyes shining with the stirrings of fear. She was ensnared with the dangerous picture I had painted with my words. “He wouldn’t do that!” she repeated forcibly. 

I just shrugged. “You know him better. If you claim that cooperation of a slutty but pretty mage and an exotic warrior wouldn’t be able to make him veer even when he was feeling depressed due to his failure to get the Eternal Core, who am I to argue. He just needs to be better than every other male. A simple thing for such a vaunted hero, a shining paragon of light.” 

“He is!” she exclaimed loudly, increasing the flow of healing energy several times in the process. It was just what I needed. I easily diverted most of the excess energy to the chains, adding some new internal cracks to its conceptual ability to keep me powerless. Suddenly, instead of two grains, I had access to five grains. Five whole grains. 

It was ridiculous. Me, Byron Mordred, the Dark lord that scared the whole world was celebrating because I finally had enough power to barely cast a light spell as bright as a weak candle for a second. Still, it was better than nothing. I kept my mouth shut as Aria was lost in thought, her magic flow out of control, instead directing it to weaken the chains further. My five grains had turned into ten, then twenty… When she finally stopped, I was able to control thirty-four grains of magic, enough to cast a very simple spell. A small miracle. 

“Sorry about that!” Aria uttered in a panic. “Are you hurt?” 

“No worries, it was actually soothing,” I answered. I was tempted to mess with her by claiming that I was hurt, but I didn’t want her to be more careful. Her distractions were my best bet to attain a relative freedom. 

She sighed before pressing her hands to my body once more, a more controlled stream of energy filling my body. “It won’t happen again!” she resolutely stated. 

“I don’t care about that. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” I answered. 

“Nothing,” she answered, but I kept gazing at her, her determination melting easily under my pressure. “Maybe not nothing,” she admitted. “I trust Lancelot, but everybody says that man can’t be trusted. What if he strays?” 

“Honey, if he does, he’s an idiot. You’re leagues better than that crimson tart, or that barbarian idiot,” I answered. Normally, she might have defended her friends, but with the earlier doubts I had introduced her, she just smiled. “However, as we talked about the last time, if you want to make sure, you need to take control of your beauty.” 

“Will you really teach me?” she asked. 

“Of course,” I answered. “You have been working hard for the last half an hour. Why don’t you take a break and show me what you remember from yesterday.” 

It was a small miracle that her only reaction was a blush as she stood up and took a few steps, her body swaying seductively as she replicated what I had taught her the day before. I added a few suggestions to correct small mistakes and add flair to her turns. When she leaned forward, despite her corset her breasts started to force the abilities of her dress to contain them. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a convenient knot to mess with today. 

“Excellent,” I said. “Now, why don’t you show me what you remember about kissing,” I said, and despite her blush, she put her hand against her lips, and delivered a delicious-looking kiss. It was beautiful, far more than what was necessary to keep a hold of an oblivious idiot like Lancelot. I frowned while trying to look like I was hiding my disappointment, visible enough for Aria to catch. 

“Is there a problem?” she asked. 

“N-no,” I stammered, before sighing in defeat against her display of panic. “Well, something doesn’t seem right, but it’s hard to comment from a distance. Maybe you should try that on me,” I said. 

“W-what are you saying,” she stammered in shock. “I-I can’t … on the lips…” 

As much as I enjoyed watching her melt in panic, I needed her on a functioning degree. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a proper kiss, but I was talking about the back of my hand. You can kiss it, and I’ll get a better feel of your technique.” 

“I see,” she murmured. Her panicked misunderstanding was to my benefit, because it leveraged a simple psychological trick. Once someone rejected a big commitment, they could justify a smaller commitment much easier, especially if they were already inclined toward it in the first place like Aria clearly was. 

Her blush was so thick as she crouched next to my right hand, I was worried that she was about to faint. She stopped for a moment to wash my hand, and at that point, I expected her to pull back due to last-minute jitters. But still, she resolutely pressed her lips and started kissing, her lips moving up and down slowly in an approximation of a tender kiss. 

It was a nice attempt for an innocent kiss. She was relaxed —other than the obvious stress the situation created— but that was only because she didn’t know that I had access to my magic, however limited. I reached for my newly expanded usable mana reserves, and brushed softly against her tongue through her slightly open mouth, teasing her tongue, like a phantom tongue caressing gently against it. 

She shivered under the unexpected sensation. I expected her to pull back, so when her lips started to move more, I was surprised. Her lips moved up and down, trailing my hand beautifully, enough to cause a stirring in my pants. I suppressed my boner through sheer willpower, not wanting to alarm her. 

Yet. 

When she pulled back almost two minutes later, she was flushed, and her breathing was out of control, making her chest heave sexily, making my earlier decision about containing my arousal even harder. “Excellent,” I said. “You’re as talented as you’re beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” she said, but despite her excitement, she managed to maintain eye contact, her face flush with excitement. She was reacting quite a bit more impressive than I had been expecting. 

I wonder whether I could push her for more, or should I let her cool down a bit before scaring her?