“Fallen Angel” Interlude: Hard Lessons

Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven—come on! Nosedive frantically flipped the channels on the console. He needed to get to ESPN, and to his misfortune, that wasn’t until forty-seven. To his greater misfortune, he couldn’t just punch in the number of the channel. For a supposedly technological race, the Saurians really needed to update their TV system.

Nosedive watched intently as the numbers flickered in the corner of the box. All he wanted to see was how the Mighty Ducks were doing. He’d been gone almost two weeks, and while he was sure that Wildwing was doing well, he just wanted to know if the team beat the Calgary Flames. They were supposedly a hard team, and Wildwing had been fretting about their match-up since the time Nosedive found out they were professional hockey players. If he still was able to keep track of time, the game should have been played earlier in the day.

As he finally clicked onto ESPN, he sighed that the commentator was at least talking about hockey. Since the NHL was the least watched of the four major sport leagues, he feared he wouldn’t have enough time to watch the whole broadcast to catch the score.

“Now, onto to the Western Conference match-ups,” the man started.

Yes!

“In today’s division brawl, the Phoenix Coyotes mauled the San Jose Sharks—”

Nosedive’s eyes ricocheted to the doorway. Footsteps…straight forward and booming, causing the floor to shake…

Oh, come on, the teen pleaded with the television. Hurry up!

“—and the Oilers are just digging more petroleum. Despite being eighth in the West, they completely buried the Red Wings—”

Who cares!

The thundering booms neared. The vibrations under his feet increased to jolting.

“And in recent news,” the host of Sportscenter’s face turned grim. “the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim—”

Thank you, Stars…

“—have had a horrendous time in the recent—”

The door opened behind him.

“—and for unknown reasons, the team has once more cance—”

Nosedive immediately panicked and switched off the television. Whirling, he froze at the sight of the fuming—literarily—and incensed Saurian overlord. His liege’s eyes burned with raw hatred, a dark and odious amber, while his muscles rippled with malevolent intent.

Nosedive fell to knees. His arms tensed, fists at his sides. He ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He had defied the overlord, and punishment had to be rendered. He didn’t fight. He didn’t struggle. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t talk his way out of it. He had learned by then to never speak unless asked directly.

So, he simply knelt there and waited anxiously. Lord Dragaunus was his liege and would discipline him as he fancied and when he fancied.

A minute. Ten minutes. A half an hour. Nosedive didn’t know how long he knelt there, but his muscles protested from their positioning. His legs shook slightly from the strain of holding up his weight, but he didn’t dare move. He had learned not too long ago what happened when he just glanced up to make sure he hadn’t missed Lord Dragaunus’s departure.

Nosedive clenched his beak together. The strain of sitting in one position took its toll, and the pain in his overworked legs finally reached their breaking point. With a whine, he collapsed back onto his haunches but still knelt. He still didn’t raise his head and kept his eyes shut. Gulping when he heard Lord Draguanus’s reverberant footsteps, he shivered when he felt the overlord’s presence over him. He cringed and shunned away as his liege ran his hand through his hair almost affectionately. Lord Dragaunus’s nails scraped gently against his scalp, increasing his shuddering ten-fold.

“You defy me, my slave,” the overlord said without malice, touching the teen under his beak and tilting his head upward.

Nosedive opened his trembling eyes to meet the overlord’s and received the intense bale that was directed toward him.

“For what were you searching?” Lord Dragaunus spoke almost fondly. He looked down intently upon Nosedive, but the teen knew he really didn’t want an answer. “I surmise you wished to discover what has happened to your brother in your absence.”

Nosedive remained silent, but his eyes softened downcast. He nodded absently. There was no point in denying it. Despite the fact that he was a lesser life form than Lord Dragaunus, his liege always knew what he was thinking.

Lord Dragaunus chuckled, a chilling and unnerving bray. Nosedive shivered again, and he silently wished to have Wildwing’s jacket again like he used to in the Resistance. Even though he wasn’t cold, for some reason he felt he wouldn’t have shuddered as much with it on.

But as much as he was shaking, it paled in comparison to when Lord Dragaunus crouched down to him and placed a hand on Nosedive’s head, encompassing the boy’s entire crown and pushing down his bangs, keeping Nosedive still. “I know this must be difficult, to have found and lost your brother all within the short amount of time in which you have become my slave. If it brings you any comfort, know he no longer cares about you. You are nothing to him—a pest that at one time gave him a hobby, for he has accepted your caste. All that is left is for you to utterly devote yourself to me—which you will…now.”

Nosedive eyed the overlord, unhinged, unsure exactly what Lord Dragaunus was thinking. He was devoted. He returned even, and…and…Heart racing, Nosedive froze in his place. His chest heaved up and down, his fear expelling with every gasp that fled his beak. His insides twisted with horror as a terrifying and hellish smirk curled upon his lord’s face, and he had no choice but to endure whatever his lord had contrived in his dark imagination.

On instinct, he thought frantically, Wildwing…save me…please…

But his brother hated him and wouldn’t rescue him.

There was no escape.

And he had no choice as his arm was grabbed by his lord, and he was jerked to his feet.

Breathing shallowly, Nosedive watched through wide and horrified eyes as his lord sauntered about him, staring at him as some sort of delicacy.

Finally, his lord paused behind him, and Nosedive let out a tiny cry as a stalwart arm reached about his shoulder and held him tightly by the chest, pulling him back again Lord Dragaunus’s. He squeezed shut his eyes, as humiliated tears seeped over the brim. Lithe claws snagged his shirt by his lower back, tearing it with one, abrupt thrust. Subsequently, a rough hand pressed down vehemently upon the small indent—over his Stigma—then sunk their acute claws into his vulnerable flesh.

Nosedive let out a sharp cry from the pain, but defeated, he simply surrendered to the touch and agony as Lord Dragaunus reaffirmed his place.

The hand on the teen’s chest lifted, as Lord Dragaunus knew he wouldn’t flee now, and claws once more smoothed down his hair. Leaning closer, Lord Dragaunus positioned his mouth millimeters from Nosedive’s ear. His hot breath saturated the teen’s feathers, causing him to writhe. It only increased the pressure on his lower back.

“You are mine, boy, now until I die, and no one will ever change that…” he detached his claws from Nosedive, only to affirm callously, “…not that anyone would want to.”

As he stalked out of the room, Nosedive swayed from not having Lord Dragaunus’s claws to keep him erect. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the door from which his lord left. His eyes rapt and distant, sweat pouring down his face, shuddering uncontrollably, he shook his head as his pants decrepitated to gutted sobs. Crumbling to his knees, he dropped his face to his hands, his palpating heart dejected.

Even though Lord Dragaunus was gone, he still felt his unforgiving hand against his back, reaffirming his place, and he learned his caste.

And even though he loved Wildwing with all his heart, he had learned his brother didn’t fell the same way.

He was a slave, and Lord Dragaunus was right.

No one would—or wanted— to save him.

The End