69

Sirius looked at her with a smirk, "Alright, so now that we're more comfortable, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing. I have nothing to say," Regan said through gritted teeth.

"Nothing? Nothing of your vows, tantrums or name-calling? Nothing to save your friend?"

She had a lot to say. But she couldn't. 

"What do you want? Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"This....controlling people, torturing them and wanting them to submit. What do you gain?"

"I punish those who stir trouble," he said firmly though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as if he hadn't expected her to ask such thing. "What do you expect from a tyrant? More of what you already believe?"

"I don't expect anything from you," Regan retorted, trying to sound steady, "I asked what do you gain?"

"And what do you gain, Ylor? What do you gain by resisting, defying and keeping your ground? You think there's a difference between what I gain and what you gain?"

"I gain my dignity. I gain my honor. I'm not going to bow before you just because you want so."

Sirius smirked, "That's not all you gain. You need to assert your own control, to control your own life and not let others overpower you. And that, my dear Regan, is gaining power."

"I don't want power," Regan snapped, "I already have it."

"Then why do you mess with me? What do you fight for? Why are you afraid?"

"I fight for what you've wronged," she said, struggling against her bonding. But her legs and hands felt numb by now. "And I'm not afraid of anything! You're the one who's afraid, you keep searching for me because you know I stir trouble and you're scared that I might actually overthrow you."

Sirius's smile was mocking. "These are bold words," he said as he stepped behind her chair and leaned down to untie the ropes on her hands. Regan felt a surge of panic, not figuring out his next move. Why was he untying her?

"But you know, fear is a luxury I can't afford. I have so many things you don't. I have power, army and allies. You have only anger, power and-" he paused as he looked at her wrists that were red and swollen from the ropes. He frowned as he caught her hands, massaging them sweetly, "And pride. Well, I have pride too. We both do." His eyes lingered on her hands and he cursed himself for tying her. But he didn't want her to leave.

"Don't touch me," Regan hissed, trying to pull away her hands. Sirius just held them tighter.

"You are so fierce, kitten," he murmured mockingly, "So, so full of anger. Does it ever run out?"

"I'm not a kitten!" Regan bit back, her tone dipping with disdain. She snatched her hands away and leaned down to her legs, untying the ropes on her own, her fingers moving quickly, fueled by anger. "I'm not some pathetic thing you can just play with. I'm not your toy," she snapped. Her hands hurt from the ropes but she ignored it. She had seen worse.

Sirius watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he sighed and walked away, leaning against the wall, his face devoid of any emotions. 

"You know, I could just kill you right now and be done with it. Or I could do so many other things that you'd wish I'd just kill you instead. Or maybe I could make you less pale." He smirked, stepping closer to her again.

"You're pale as hell for yourself." Regan snapped back as she stood on her feet.

Sirius chuckled, but it was a sincere one, "Oh, Ylor. You didn't get me there. Yes, I'm pale but I can ma-"

"What I didn't get?" Regan interrupted, her voice sharp.

"Just forget it," he smirked, his eyes filled with mischief, "But know this, I can make you so much less pale."

She crossed her arms, her nerves alight with anger, "And why don't you try this out on yourself? Maybe it'd be an enjoyable sight to see. Or...do you let others do it for you? Do you fix your concubines to make you less pale?" Her words were venomous, and she could see him wince at her taunt.

"Concubines?" he repeated, his eyes darkening slightly. 

"Yes, concubines. Don't try to mock around with me, Sirius. I know well enough what you meant by that 'less pale' thing," Regan spat, her eyes narrowing. "You think I'm some fool who doesn't get you? You think you're the only one who can speak in hidden meanings?"

Sirius stepped closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers, "Bold words, Ylor," he remarked, "But it's not about being the only one," he said as his hand reached to her arm. Regan stepped back quickly. "It's about being the best," he grabbed her arm anyway, and led her out of the chamber.

"Where the hell are you taking me?!" Regan growled, trying to break free.

"Dinner."

"No!" she protested strongly. Eating dinner with them was the last thing she wanted. Seeing their faces, curated in makeup and disdain, staring at her like she was a prey. And her clothes were dirty, she was practically a mess. She didn't want anyone to see her like that. But Sirius was pulling her along anyway. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she shouted, struggling even more against his grip, "My clothes...."

"I know," he replied calmly, not looking at her. 

Regan's breath hitched when the hallways quickly twisted into a familiar section for her. It were the infamous pentagon hall, his infamous quarters.

He led her to the room in the middle, while Regan's heels dug into the sleek floor, a flicker of panic rising up her chest.

"Don't you dare!" she protested defiantly, though her voice wasn't entirely devoid of fear

Sirius pulled her closer as his hand found a key and he connected it with the knob, doing three turns in a row, "Don't worry, kitten. I can't afford you feeling uncomfortable."

He pushed the grand doors open, revealing a dimly lit interior. Regan's nails clawed at his hand on her arm, but his grip was unyielding. Her heart sank as she found herself standing inside his chamber.

She remembered being here before. It was that night when she had faked a stomachache, tried to escape, and ended up here, seeing him....in a towel. The memory made her cheeks flush. He closed the doors with a click, his expression unreadable.

His room, it was just as she remembered, nothing had changed about it. It was still luxurious, with the red hue of the candles, opulent furnishings, and the four posted bed dominating the center, the covers and pillows done eerily neat, too neat.

The air was heavy with the scent of incense and something sweet, like roses, that made her empty stomach clench. She was alone with him here, her heart hammering in her chest. She wondered how many women had come here on their own will, like Vesper and her sisters, how many against their will, and what he had done with them. The thought made her shiver with disgust.

Before she could do anything, Sirius caught her hand and sat her on a chaise lounge. Regan tensed as she did so. She didn't know what he was planning, but her worst fears were awoken. Why did he bring her there, in such a place? She couldn't stop her legs from trembling.

Sirius was searching inside one of the closets, his stance utterly unbothered. He revealed a small vial filled with something purple. "This," he said, holding it up for her to see, "is something to wash your hair and make them smell nice. And...." he trailed off as he walked closer, his expression taking a menacing turn, "I'm going to help you with that."

Regan's eyes widened at his words, and she couldn't believe he was serious. "No way!" she spat, "You touch my hair, you'll regret it!"

Sirius chuckled and took a step closer, "You can do it yourself," he shrugged, holding out the vial. "It's not very hard. Just pour a little bit on your hands, and then work it through your hair."

"No, I won't!" Regan insisted, shaking her head. "I'd rather go downstairs looking like this. I don't trust you."

His smile turned into a sneer. "Oh, you don't trust me, do you?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Well, I can understand that. But your friend Iris.... she's in my hands now. And you don't want her to suffer more than she's intending to."

Regan glared up at him, hating herself for being helpless. With a furious growl, she snatched the vial from his hand and poured a small amount of the liquid onto her palms. She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she prepared to work the liquid through her hair.

As her fingers worked through her tangled mess, Sirius watched her, his expression a mix of amusement and anticipation. The smell of lavender filled the air, but Regan couldn't make a difference in her hair.

"That's enough," Sirius said and did Regan want or not, he placed his hand on her head and chanted something in a language she didn't understand. She was seething with anger, her fists clenching tightly.

After no more than two seconds, he withdrew his hand. She realized she had been holding her breath, but she didn't dare to relax yet. Sirius had done something to her hair. He took a mirror from the bedside table and held it in front of her face. "There you go, Ylor," he said, his tone mockingly sweet. "Your hair looks lovely."

She didn't trust him, but she had no choice. Quickly, she took the mirror and angrily raised her eyes to meet her reflection. To her surprise, her hair didn't look as awful as it had before. It looked neat, the red strands making her appearance stand out even more. And her face looked cleaner too. She couldn't help but feel a little grateful.

Sirius's grin widened as he saw the surprise on Regan's face. He took the mirror away and then walked over to the other side of the room, grabbing a hairbrush from the vanity. As Regan saw him approach, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Now," he said as he watched her with that mischievous grin, "I'm going to brush your hair for you."

"No, no, no!" Regan exclaimed, pushing herself further into the chaise, trying to put as much distance between herself and Sirius as possible. "Don't you dare touch my hair!" She looked at him with pure hatred, her blue eyes blazing. She didn't want him to touch her hair, or worse, tear it away. And she didn't want him to do things she could do herself, to invade her privacy like that.

Sirius chuckled and took a step closer, "Now, now, kitten. I'm not going to hurt you. Be a good girl and let me brush your hair, will you?"

"No!" Regan spat, "I don't want that!"

"Say please," he said, his voice taking on a mocking, sing-song quality.

Regan's breath quickened with anger and fear. She hated him, hated that she ended up trapped in his chamber and that he was closer than she liked. But despite all that, she wasn't going to say please.

"I'm never going to say please to you, Sirius," Regan said through gritted teeth, her chest tight with anger and fear.

"Oh, I know that, kitten. I don't want you to say please either. It would be rather boring if you did." Sirius leaned in closer, his face only inches away from hers. "But I am going to brush your hair whether you like it or not. So you might as well make it easy on yourself and just accept it." He reached out with the hairbrush, his fingers mere centimeters away from her hair.

Terror gripped Regan as she watched Sirius's hand move closer and closer. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All she could do was stare at him, her eyes filled with fear and anger. He was going to torture her, she was sure of it. Maybe that was the punishment for her mistakes, for her attempts to overthrow him.

With a quick thought, Regan aimed to strike him with her powers, but the flame faded on her hand as she did so. Sirius just chuckled at her attempt.

"What have you done to my powers?!" Regan yelled, panic flooding her veins as she realized she couldn't summon her powers.

Sirius smirked triumphantly, "Don't worry. It will last for a while. It's just the effect of the drug."

Regan's fear intensified when she realized she didn't have powers. And she didn't have any weapon to defend herself with. She felt like a fool, being a prisoner in his chamber, falling inside a trap of her own doing. But she wasn't going to give up. She was going to fight with her fists and whatever she had left.

But before she could do anything, his hairbrush met the strands and he began to brush them gently. There was no rush or aggressiveness in his movements, only a strange tenderness.

Regan's whole being was trembling with anger and humiliation, her mind racing with thoughts of vengeance and escape. She couldn't believe he was doing that, and she was just sitting there.

"You're trembling, my princess," Sirius remarked, his voice laced with amusement as he continued to brush her hair. "Why so afraid? You're safe here with me."

Regan's heart raced, her teeth clenching with an anger that burnt more than a volcano. She hated how he said she was safe, when she was going crazy from fear. She hated how he called her his princess, like she was his princess at all. She wasn't even a princess. She didn't know what to call herself anymore, other than someone wandering around through surviving and getting in trouble. 

She didn't reply at all, and focused on the way he brushed her hair. It was gentle, soothing and Regan hated it even more. She wanted him to rip the brush through her hair, to cause her pain. That way, she'd have it so much easier to nurture her anger and hatred towards him. But instead, he was being gentle and that was a mockery to her defiance 

"Stop it," she growled, her voice low and menacing.

But Sirius was undeterred. He untangled a stubborn knot with ease and Regan wished he hadn't. She wished he had struggled, had made her wince, but he didn't.

Nevertheless a small, traitorous part of her enjoyed the sensation of his fingers running through her hair, the way he combed them. She hated herself for feeling that way. She couldn't believe how she ended up in that position, how she ended up having her hair brushed by someone she loathed, someone that ruined her life.

Finally, the brush released her hair and Regan didn't know what to acknowledge, relief or emptiness. He stepped back and looked at her with a smirk, as if admiring whatever he had done. Regan wasn't looking at him at all, she was looking at her lap, wondering what he was going to do next.

"And as for your clothes, you can change," he said with a cold indifference.

"I'd rather die," Regan muttered, glaring at him.

"Suit yourself," Sirius replied nonchalantly. He removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders, making Regan flinch at the contact. That hit the nerve.

She stood up abruptly, glaring at him, "I'm not going to wear your fucking coat!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Sirius's expression was unfazed, "You should, if you're not going to change. But if you don't want to, then don't. I won't force you."

Regan frowned in response, but with a reluctant sight, she wore it, reluctantly buttoning it up. It smelled like levander and leather and it was warm. She hated wearing his coat but her own clothes were torn and dirty. The coat reached down her legs, covering her. The sleeves were long and needed to be rolled up.

He noticed, his smirk widening as he approached her, "My God....my kitten looks so adorable in my coat."

Regan was caught aback by his words and she felt a sudden warmth spread through her veins. But she hid it with a scowl, "Stop calling me that." 

He didn't reply but reached down to roll up the sleeves of his coat.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Regan snapped, trying to sound convincing. But it felt hollow. Ironic. When he had just combed her hair.

"I'm not even touching you. You should have said that when you were tied up," he retorted, still adjusting the sleeves.

"You drugged me!" Regan hissed, "How was I supposed to know what you were doing?"

Sirius pulled back, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes, "Well, after you woke up, I touched your face and you didn't say anything. How come so?" he asked, feigning innocence.

Words got caught up in Regan's throat as she remembered him doing that. But she was too angry with herself to think clearly.

"That's what I thought," he said.

"You wouldn't really have listened even if I had said something," Regan muttered.

"You could try," he winked and took her hand. Regan jerked her hand away, but he grabbed her arm and then led her out of his room.

Regan didn't want to think about it, but she was grateful that he didn't do something bad to her. He could've done terrible things, but if be tried, she'd kill him, no regrets, no remorse.

"Oh God," Regan whispered. 

The dining hall was as toxic as she had known. The crackling fireplace in the middle of the chamber did little to calm the knots on her stomach. Seated on the table were Vesper and her sisters, a deadly look on their faces as if they were about to lunge and kill Regan with their claws. The general's expression was stern but still confused.

Sirius sat her down in the first chair in the row. "Don't make it seem as if I'm forcing you to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, staring at the table. She hated herself. She hated him. She hated this place. She hated all this.

He leaned down and whispered, "You will eat. Just like that time when you ate when we were in the North. Don't listen to them, love."

Regan's eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. Did she misheard it? Did he just call her love? Did they hear? She looked up at him only to find him staring at her with a smirk playing on his lips. He gave her a wink before straightening up. She shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Vesper and her sisters. Their gazes were hungry and menacing. 

She couldn't understand how she could stay here with all what was happening behind her. But at least she wasn't inside Sirius's chamber.

The servant approached her table and served her plate. She didn't want to think about the food, although it could've been poisoned. After all she was hated by everyone here.

"Eat," Sirius ordered, taking the main chair, on her right. His icy eyes seemed to pierce directly at her soul. Her eyes fell on the food and she didn't want to look at either of them.

She picked at the food, wondering if there was a way out of this hall, at least. She knew she was excessive and had better things to do, instead of sitting there. To help Iris, for instance. Where was she now?

The silence was deafening. She couldn't stand it. Vesper and her sisters stayed as if they were going to explode in second by second.

And then as if she knew their thoughts, Allegra spoke.