Those of you who have followed my writing career for any extended period will know of my tendency to write of lighthearted kidnappings. This is kind of like those, but it's only lighthearted at the beginning and has no resolution :)

I also gave up on editing halfway through :))))

Enjoy.

xXx

"Hey, Samuel!" Pelair jogged to catch up with the king. "Wait up!"

Samuel stopped walking long enough for Pelair to come alongside him, then they both continued down the hall. The guard that had been shadowing Samuel for his safety respectfully hung back.

"Hey, Pelair," Samuel said. "What's up?"

"We heard a rumor about someone coming after you," Pelair answered, slightly out of breath. "The details are shaky, but it sounded like it was going down in a couple of days."

"Coming after me how?" Samuel asked. He seemed a little alarmed, but Pelair's almost nonchalant attitude kept him calm.

Pelair tilted his head uncertainly. "Also unclear. We were just going to keep you under a little extra protective guard until things died down, if that works for you."

"Yeah, that should work. Where are the others?" Samuel asked.

"They're figuring out the guard schedule. I went to go find you so we could get you in on the conversation so we know we aren't overstepping any boundaries. That's how Val put it, anyway."

Samuel nodded. "Yeah, that sounds fair."

"Great!" Pelair gave a thumbs-up. "They're waiting in the throne room."

"Let's head that way, then." He took Pelair's hand, and they walked together to the throne room.

No one was waiting at the door. "Weird. They must have called the guards in for the meeting," Pelair commented.

"Must have," Samuel agreed, though he seemed less certain.

Pelair opened one of the large doors for him. "After you, your majesty," he said with a bow and a smirk.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." Samuel gave a regal nod of acknowledgement, then stepped inside. Pelair followed him. "Where is everyone?" Samuel asked.

"They should be..." Pelair trailed off as he looked around the room. He could see no sign of anyone. "Now this is bad."

"Maybe we should look for some more guards," Samuel suggested warily.

"Definitely. My surprise-fight senses are tingling." Pelair turned around to go back out, but the door slammed shut in front of him. He pulled on the handle, but it didn't budge.

"This is officially bad," Samuel announced.

"Where did everyone go?" Pelair asked. He stepped over to a tapestry, lifted it, and stepped under it. He glanced up at the balcony above the throne, melted into the shadow, and reappeared under a table there.

He frowned as he looked around. "Not even any enemies up here." He reappeared under the tapestry just as it settled against the wall, and he shoved it out of his face to step closer to Samuel again. "Okay, just stick by me and we should both be fine."

Samuel rolled his eyes and drew his sword as they moved back-to-back. "You're the one who teleported away from me without warning." Before Pelair could retort, he frowned. "Do you hear that?"

Pelair tilted his head as he listened. "Yeah, the hissing?" He tried to follow the source of the sound, but it was impossible to tell its direction. "You don't think it's snakes, do you?"

"If it is, they're not real ones," Samuel answered. He coughed. "Ugh, do you smell that?" Pelair could just barely make out a sickly sweet smell before he felt something fall against his back. He turned to see what it was, and he barely realized it was Samuel before it was too late to catch him.

"Samuel!" he exclaimed as he lowered the king to the floor carefully. The smell was stronger now, and he wrinkled his nose at the odor-- like decomposing fruit.

"...found the plot..." Samuel mumbled. Then his eyes closed, and he went fully limp in Pelair's arms.

"Sonuva--" Pelair stood up, coughing at the overwhelming stench of whatever gas must have knocked Samuel out. Was that what happened to everyone else? That didn't explain where they were. Did they leave to escape the gas and get caught up elsewhere? Did they just get dragged out of the room after they got knocked out?

He pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose in an attempt to ward off the smell. Clearly it wasn't going to knock him out, but it was noxious enough to give him a headache. He pounded on the door with his other hand. "Hey! Guard! Guards! We're in here!"

Something landed behind him-- something weighty. Without hesitating, Pelair stood over Samuel, and his gaze met that of a much bigger orc wearing a gas mask.

"Hi there," Pelair said carefully.

The orc narrowed his eyes as six more people landed behind him. "We're here for the king," he snarled.

"What do you know, so am I!" Pelair exclaimed, not moving. "In a very different way than you guys, I'd guess, though."

A more feminine figure, her race indistinguishable behind the mask, stepped forward. "Step aside and you won't get hurt."

"Is that what you told everyone else before you gassed them?" Pelair accused.

She didn't take the bait. "We can't leave witnesses. If you don't stand down, we'll be forced to kill you."

"Hm... neither sounds like a good option right now, if I'm being honest." His mind raced as he tried to buy time. No witnesses could be left, and it was too late for him to pretend to succumb to the gas. He also couldn't teleport away without just leaving Samuel to be taken. Running for help seemed to be out of the question, since on one side of him was an unopenable door and on the other side was a wall of very angry people. Even if he could somehow bamf into the vents (which he couldn't in the lack of shadows immediately around him), that still left Samuel alone.

The orc drew an enormous sword. "I can choose for you," he offered.

"Take me too!" Pelair said suddenly.

The goons looked taken aback. "I don't think that was an option," the woman laughed.

"No, really. I'm a king's guard. Whatever you want, odds are I'm going to improve your chances of getting it, whether it's ransom or whatever. I can back up whatever you make him say, I can make sure he stays alive until you get what you need, I can even be collateral in case something goes sideways. Having me will be more useful than killing me."

The woman and the orc exchanged a glance. "If you try anything, we will not hesitate to kill you," she warned.

"Sounds like a plan." Pelair gave a smile that was much more optimistic than he was. "How are we gonna do this?"

Without warning, a bag was placed over his head from behind him. "Don't scream, or else," the orc warned as someone tied his hands together behind him.

"That was quick," he muttered. He stifled a yelp as someone slung him over their shoulder, and he started to sympathise with sacks of potatoes.

"Quiet. I won't tell you again," the orc warned from a few feet away, evidently not the one carrying him. He tried not to feel hurt about it.

"Quiet as a mouse," Pelair agreed. The person holding him jostled him, and he managed not to yelp this time. "Sorry," he whispered. This time he just got a sigh, and then they were moving.

Pelair suddenly wished he got better at telling directions with his eyes closed. It was an oddly specific skill, but it was something he'd seen countless times in movies and comics. One that he thought would be... easier. He thought they might have been on the stairs at some point, and it maybe felt like there was a portal somewhere, but he really couldn't tell what was going on until he was dumped in a car and buckled in.

"Safety first, huh?" he asked.

"Quiet," the orc told him again.

"We are in the clear," the woman's voice said as several of the doors shut at once.

"Don't tell him that!" the orc protested.

The car started and began to move.

"So... this place you're taking us. Where is it?" Pelair started to fiddle with the ropes around his wrist. Maybe the knots were loose.

"When we can tell you anything, kid, you'll be the first to know," the woman said. "Believe me."

"But why would I believe you?" Pelair asked, still unable to see anything under the sack. It smelled a little musty, but nothing to complain about (yet). However, the knots in the ropes were tight. Maybe he could try and get a dagger without drawing attention to himself. "Like, no offense, but you guys are at best hired mercenaries. At worst, you're criminal revolutionaries ready to murder us the minute we aren't helpful to you. Not to worry you or anything, Samuel." He heard a light groan that sounded like Samuel, and he gave an internal sigh of relief. That meant they were at least in the same car.

"We're just doing our jobs, kid. That's all you need to know," she answered.

"So if your job means killing us...?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, won't we?" He was pretty sure she smiled. He couldn't see her, but her tone sounded like she smiled. He could also have been hearing her tone wrong. However, he was distinctly missing his dagger, so they must have taken it from his pocket while he was slung over that guy's pocket. Better yet, it fell out of his pocket in the castle so it would be easier to get back-- and they'd have a clue where Samuel and Pelair were taken.

"Whas go'n' on?" Samuel asked deliriously.

Pelair lit up, and he turned to look at Samuel before he remembered that it accomplished nothing. "Hey, Sam, buddy, I'm glad you're awake. I would love to see your face right now, but we're being kidnapped and neither of us are allowed to see so we can't tell where we're going," he explained.

"Wha'?" Samuel asked.

"I can explain again in a few minutes. You're waking up pretty quick, so it should be while we're still in the car." He turned toward the woman, who was somewhere in front of him. "Hey, nice explaining lady, how much longer is the ride gonna be?"

"I'm not the nice explaining lady," the woman said.

"At least you're responding to my questions!"

"She shouldn't be," the orc said.

"P'lair, where're we?" Samuel asked.

"We're in a car, Sam."

"Oh."

"Why shouldn't she be responding to my questions?" Pelair asked the orc. "It's not nice to just leave people hanging. Just ask Faradel." He snickered at his own joke.

"Why can' I see?" Samuel asked. It sounded like he was pouting in confusion, and Pelair was incredibly upset that he couldn't see it. It must have been adorable.

"There's a bag over your head, Sam," Pelair explained patiently.

"Bu' why?"

"So we can't see anything, Sammy. I know you're not awake yet, but try to keep up."

"Das mean," he grumbled.

Pelair would have paid actual money to see his face. He knew it had to be so precious. "I know, I'm sorry." He moved his foot around on the floor until he found Samuel's and nudged it reassuringly. "You're going to be very irritated when you come to your senses."

"Hell of a headache, too," the woman added.

"Aw, man," Samuel groaned.

"Sorry," Pelair said sheepishly.

"No, you're not," Samuel whined.

"No, I'm not," Pelair agreed. "Hey, kidnappers, I'm guessing nobody is recording this?"

"No, we're not. He didn't just get his wisdom teeth removed."

The orc growled again. "You really should shut them up."

"Are they really hurting anyone?" the woman asked.

A new voice, one that sounded like it was from the driver's seat, piped in. "Okay, I know it's not our job to keep them quiet on the way there, but it also isn't our job to babysit. I haven't felt this stressed driving since my sister made me pick up her kids from school one time. Worst experience of my life. It's the reason I haven't talked to her in ten years, I kid you not."

"Not because you became a contract killer. That has nothing to do with it," the woman joked.

"Bold of you to assume I didn't become a contract killer so I wouldn't have to talk to her again," the driver answered.

"Worth it," Samuel snickered.

"I swear If you guys don't shut them up, I'm going to do it for you, and you're not going to like it," the driver warned.

"Kids, the nice contract killer says to shut up," the woman said.

"What's he gonna do, turn the car around?" Pelair murmured to Samuel. Samuel burst out laughing, snorting from his lack of motor control. He could hear the driver inhale sharply from the front seat.

"Okay, boys. What the driver says goes." There was a rustling of fabric, and Pelair noticed someone was moving the bag on his head just before a wad of cloth was shoved in his mouth. He grunted in surprise, and he heard Samuel start to say something before he was cut off similarly.

"Finally," the orc sighed. "Peace and quiet."

Pelair was bad at telling the passage of time when he didn't have a bag on his head. All he could tell was that they were in the car somewhere between a half an hour and two hours, and they weren't always going above sixty miles per hour.

The cloth tasted awful.

Samuel eventually seemed to wake up the rest of the way. He couldn't say anything, but based on the noises he was making, he did, in fact, have a killer headache. Pelair moved his foot to his again and tapped it reassuringly. In response, he got a very distinct pattern of taps, and he let out a heavy sigh. He also never picked up morse code during his training (or lack thereof) for his position, and now he was just completely unhelpful. He put his foot on top of Samuel's, tapping a couple of times and then pressing down. He had no idea if the message was properly conveyed, but Samuel stopped tapping, so he figured it worked. They stayed like that for the rest of the ride.

Finally, the car stopped. Doors opened, and someone unbuckled Pelair and hoisted him over their shoulder again. He grumbled under his breath, but he couldn't say anything witty or otherwise insulting, and that was really annoying.

He really wanted to slam one of his horns into the head of the person carrying him and take off running, but he still had a bag over his head, and he wasn't sure how well he'd be able to run with his hands tied behind him. That was ignoring the fact that he would be leaving Samuel at the mercy of their captors, and the fact that they might have guns and just shoot him before he could get anywhere.

He allowed himself to be carried wherever they were going. It was humiliating, but it was also kind of fun if he imagined that anything else was happening. Maybe it was a really elaborate surprise party and he just ruined it for Samuel.

Okay, maybe he should stop imagining it was other things.

He heard a door opening a few feet away, then his head hit the side of the doorframe. He squirmed and gave a muffled "Watch it!" to convey his annoyance, but he just got jostled again for it. He swore to himself that as long as he lived, he would never get kidnapped again. This sucked.

He was relieved to be dropped on his feet on cold concrete. Someone still held his arm to keep him from running, but at least he was on the ground now. He tugged at the hand gently to test what would happen, and it yanked him forward in response. He followed the person forward, and he could barely make out lights passing above them through the fabric of the bag.

Somewhere inside the well-air-conditioned room, they stopped. They stood there for several seconds, and Pelair looked around in hopes that he would be able to make out something else through the bag. He could only see the indistinct shape of lights and blobs of people around him. How many, he didn't know. It was more than a few but fewer than a lot.

Then someone pulled the bag off his head. He blinked to adjust to the bright lights, and he could finally make out a largely empty room that made him think of the warehouses where everything happened in the violent movies he stopped watching after he started working as the master strategist. Samuel was right next to him, which let him relax a little. The orc pulled the bag off his head too, then stood off to the side.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. They stood behind him and Samuel, some of them at attention, others shifting nervously from foot to foot. Pelair could recognize the orc and the woman and some of the others from the palace, but there were more of them now. They were looking in front of him, and he kept looking from them to where they were looking and back again, but he couldn't figure out what they were waiting for.

The air in the room stirred, and Pelair's gut dropped as a dark smoke swirled around him. The hair on the back of his neck lifted as it brushed past his ear.

"I'm so glad you could make it," it crooned just beside him.

He stepped back instinctively, but two of the guards pushed him back into place. The smoke solidified into a smug humanoid figure as he continued to resist the guards.

It gave a mocking bow to Samuel. "Welcome, your majesty. So wonderful of you to accept my invitation."

Samuel cleared his throat, lifting his eyebrows and glancing downward to point out the cloth stuffed in his mouth.

"Where are my manners?" the smoky figure asked, shaking its head. "Please remove the gags. They're so inhospitable." As someone pulled the rag out of Samuel's mouth, the figure turned to the men struggling to hold Pelair in place. "And stop that immediately." Pelair could feel the power in the words wash over him, and he assumed the two guards felt it too when all three of them stopped what they were doing. One of them yanked the gag out of Pelair's mouth.

Samuel worked his jaw to loosen it before he spoke. "Why are you--"

He was interrupted by Pelair hacking and launching a large loogie at their captor's face.

"Thanks for having us, jerkwad. Hope you have pretzels and Kaypry-Moons."

Ca'vour wiped the saliva off their face. "You really are your father's son. Well, not your dead father's. Or the other dead one." They flicked it off their hand disdainfully. "The dumb one who's going to get himself killed soon."

"And I'm proud of it," Pelair growled.

Ca'vour's expression shifted to amusement. "So you don't even deny it."

Pelair shrugged. "We all have our strengths. He's got a big heart, and he's really good at smiting things. I'm really good at accidentally getting out of trouble. Faradel knows some pretty good spells. Even you're..." He made a face. "Okay, maybe not all of us."

"Oh, your insults are so..." They lifted a condescending eyebrow. "...insulting."

Pelair rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That's the point."

They stepped closer, looming over him. They almost seemed to grow taller just to be more menacing. Pelair quivered with anger and fear, but he didn't back down.

Ca'vour smiled a broad, menacing grin. "You really think you're still in control here, don't you?" they asked softly.

"What do you want?" Samuel asked.

Ca'vour turned to face him. "Why, I want you, of course," they said, as though it should have been obvious. "The control of Kinsland in the palm of my hand." They stepped back just enough to be dramatic without making either of their captives comfortable. "Of course, I've had the country under my influence for some time now, but there's no power statement quite like stealing a king to remind a few people who's really in charge."

"Like who?" Pelair prompted.

Ca'vour smirked. "You'd love for me to just tell you, wouldn't you?"

"It was worth a shot," he mumbled.

"Yes, child, worth a shot. It would be so much nicer of me to hand you all the answers on a silver platter, wouldn't it?" They leaned in close to Pelair, and he leaned back. "So much better for everyone if you just knew what was going on and who you could trust."

Pelair coughed. "Listen, I can't hear you when you're that close. All I can think about is how much you smell like old gym socks." He gagged. "Do you not know how to shower?"

Ca'vour looked genuinely disappointed. "You've really gone so low as to insult my imaginary stench. I thought you had at least some originality."

"And I thought you had deodorant," Pelair snickered.

Next to him, Samuel was trying his best not to laugh. It was a high-pressure situation, which made being serious that much more difficult.

Ca'vour's tone became dangerously low. "Perhaps I need to remind you of why you are here?"

Dark smoke swirled out from around them. Pelair took a step back again, but guards again held his arms to keep him in place. He looked over at Samuel and saw that he received similar treatment.

The thick, oily smoke drifted toward them as Ca'vour's figure distorted and dissolved behind it. Pelair tried to break free as the suffocating cloud surrounded him, but he wasn't nearly as strong as the people holding him. He choked as it filled his nostrils, scratching his throat and filling his lungs.

He hadn't had a flashback to it in years, but suddenly he was in the burning building with Branch again, surrounded by screaming students. The smoke filled the air, and the heat pressed against him like a suffocating blanket.

"Get out of my head!" he shouted, still gagging on the smoke.

"Let's see what we can do with that wonderful childlike imagination of yours," Ca'vour purred. Pelair found himself looking over at Samuel, who was also surrounded in smog. However, it solidified in front of the king, once again forming the figure of the dark god.

A smoky hand lifted Samuel by the throat.

Pelair tried to scream, he tried to run to help, he tried to do something. But he couldn't do anything. He couldn't move, he could barely breathe. His eyes watered from the smoke coating his throat.

"What do you think, boy?" Ca'vour asked, their voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. They stared at Samuel as they raised him higher and higher over their head. He kicked uselessly, choking and gasping for air. "How shall I dispose of this young king?"

"Please, no," he wanted to say. Nothing came out.

Samuel's neck snapped in their hand. His body went limp, and Ca'vour tossed it to the ground.

Samuel was kicking, struggling still in their hand, and they squeezed tighter, tighter until he stopped moving. Their laugh echoed around the room, resounding in Pelair's ears.

A shadowy dagger formed in Ca'vour's hand. Samuel spluttered helplessly. "I'm sorry, Pelair," he managed to say before the blade pierced through his ribcage. Blood dripped from his lips as he coughed one last time, then his eyes glazed over and he went still. Ca'vour sneered and dropped him like he was a bag of groceries no one wanted.

Ca'vour dropped him, stepping back as all the guards around them came forward brandishing baseball bats and crowbars that seemed to come from nowhere. Samuel tried to get to his feet, but the first hit to his chin disoriented him. He couldn't do anything as they all descended upon him, raining blow upon blow. He screamed in pain, but soon grew quiet as the goons kept up their fury. After a minute of beating, they all stepped back, leaving Samuel's bloody and broken body in the middle of the floor.

Samuel was launched across the room into a pile of crates. He fell to the floor and was crushed as they fell on him.

A dark spear erupted from his back, dripping with his blood.

Ca'vour glowed with a dark light, and a sickly black fire spread from his hand to Samuel's face. His screams echoed around the warehouse.

Samuel withered away in their hand, his essence draining away into them and giving them new life.

Over and over again, in hundreds of different ways, Samuel was dying.

"Such awful visions," Ca'vour murmured in Pelair's ear.

"S-- stop," Pelair choked out.

All he could see was a dark face, the features unclear. All he could tell was that it was grinning broadly. "My dear Pelair, you are doing this to yourself," they crooned softly. "This was all your idea."

Pelair squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see every scene just as clearly as though he was watching it happen in front of him. He couldn't feel the ground beneath him. He couldn't breathe. He was being choked by someone-- something. Was it real? Was he imagining it again? His throat was closing, filling. He was falling. The world was spinning. He needed Samuel. He just wanted Samuel to be there, to tell him he was okay.

He hit the ground hard. His ankle twisted under him, and a jolt shot up his leg as his shoulder caught him against the concrete.

He could breathe again. He gasped for air, not caring that he was in an undignified sprawl on the floor. His throat ached as he coughed. It wasn't the raspy hoarseness he was expecting from the smoke, but a familiar soreness of a bruise just starting to form. He had no idea why smoke would feel like that, but he was happy to be breathing again.

Samuel was being held back by the orc and another guard, struggling to pull away and get to Pelair. "Let me go!" he demanded.

"Yeah, sure, your highness," the orc said sarcastically.

Pelair sat up, still coughing. "Let him go," he said thickly, then broke down in a fit of more coughs and gasping.

Ca'vour burst out laughing, and all the guards followed suit. "Yes, mighty hero. Come to the rescue of your beloved king. Show the infidels the power of love and loyalty over evil." Back in their humanoid form, they stepped over to Samuel and pinched his cheek. He pulled away in disgust. "Stop me from fulfilling my dastardly plans. Stand up and show me how strong you are despite everything." They came back to Pelair, leering over him as he staggered to his feet. "You preach of love and family and strength. Where have those gotten you?"

"Get a hobby," Pelair told them, followed by a hearty coughing fit.

Ca'vour sneered. "You really don't learn, do you?"

"I learn a lot, actually," Pelair said. "I just choose to ignore most of it." He then spat in their face.

Instantly, they backhanded him, sending him flying across the room. He rolled to a stop, groaning as he tried to get to his feet.

"You petty mortal!" Ca'vour roared.

"Not technically mortal," Pelair mumbled, lifting himself to his knees.

Something large and heavy struck him across the back, pinning him back against the ground. The air was squeezed out of his lungs as it pressed down, and he coughed again until he had no air left.

"You think that you are in control here. Let me be the one to tell you that whatever I wish to happen will. If you cease to amuse me, which you are dangerously close to, I will not hesitate to have you extinguished."

Pelair, who had his face pressed uncomfortably against the concrete, struggled to breathe enough to keep himself conscious. Spots danced in his vision, and his legs kicked out uselessly of their own volition. He could feel his ribs about to crack under the pressure.

Just before he lost consciousness, Ca'vour released whatever they were crushing him with. For the second time, he gasped to fill his lungs with the dank air of the warehouse, rolling onto his side to wheeze slightly better.

Samuel finally broke free of the guards holding him and raced to Pelair. He crouched at his side, unable to do anything before the guards caught up to him and lifted him bodily, kicking and shouting, by his arms. They carried him the direction he'd been running, disappearing from view. Pelair didn't have the strength to roll over to see them.

"Let me go! Let me GO!" They didn't even insult him this time, just ignored him as he started cursing at them.

"You see, your lordship," Ca'vour said condescendingly, "this isn't about you. It never was. You're a significant player in this, and now you're important to my plan, but it's not about you. It's about him and the rest of his motley band. They're the ones who I..." They inhaled sharply. "...I despise more than anyone else in this miserable excuse of a world. You and your fancy kingdom are nothing more than trifles to me. I could control the entire world right now, if I wished. However, your protective posse has been a thorn in my side far longer than I would like. It's time for me to finally show all of you who's really running this show."

"You won't win," Samuel said. "They're going to defeat you."

Ca'vour just laughed. "I love mortals' foolish optimism. I wouldn't have half the fun I do if it weren't for your constant need to keep going despite all your problems."

There were footsteps leaving the room. Pelair pulled himself up to look where they were going, but he could only see the thick smoke of Ca'vour in his way.

"Ah-ah-ah," they chuckled. "I can't have you two knowing where each other is. That would mean you'd get some foolish ideas of escape."

Pelair staggered to his feet. His head spun and his ankle almost gave out from under him, but he stayed standing.

He glared at Ca'vour. "I'll kill you myself," he said hoarsely. "I swear on every person I've ever loved who you've put in a grave, I am going to kill you."

Ca'vour ruffled his hair, and their eyes glittered with malice. "Keep telling yourself that. It might be the only thing that keeps you alive in the coming days."