Runa was still breathing heavily for quite some time after Ari left. She hadn't meant to get quite so angry with him, but it was as if she couldn't help it. Why was it that children were too young to have any true malice but could always stick the knife exactly where it would hurt the most?

Standing, she sighed and went back over to the window, looking out at the city below. Sun shining bright off the clay-tiled rooftops, ships with their billowing sails out in the pale waters beyond the harbor, verdant evergreens looming next to windowed shops and townhouses... her city in her country, but one day it would all be Ari's. Sighing again, she turned away.

She wondered, not for the first time, how a child like Ari had resulted from her and Marek of all people. He may have looked like her, but there was something so... soft about him, even for a child, that she'd never had when she was younger. On the one hand, she knew it would cause him issues as a ruler, but on the other, she wanted to protect it, protect him.

When she had found out that she was pregnant, she'd been more than a little upset. She had been haunted by the idea of having to bear King Ulrik's children, and although his death had spared her from that, Marek wasn't a better option. Ulrik was dangerous in the way that a wild boar was: full of rage and out of control, especially when he did not get his way. But Marek... he was far more of a threat.

He was a good lover, a good advisor, and she grudgingly had to admit that he was a good opponent— one that she could not get rid of just yet. He was not, however, the kind of man that she ever wanted to have a hold over her, and a child was just another weakness to exploit in his eyes. Ari was a danger to her from the moment he was conceived, either as a bargaining chip or as a legacy of his father. Luckily, Ari was nothing like him. Even better, he had no inclination to even speak to his father, and it seemed like the disinterest was mutual for Marek.

He hardly has an inclination to speak to you at the moment, Runa thought, and closed her eyes. She would have to mend the situation with her son later. Right now, she had more immediate issues to deal with. Aleksander Jelen had arrived back from his mission in Feirvangen, without what she had demanded. Again.

And so Runa made her way down to the drawing room. It was the same room that she had been in when she had sent Aleksander to Feirvangen, so it was only fitting that it was where his mission ended. She pulled out one of the chairs at the polished oak table and sat, waiting. It wasn't long before one of the soldiers entered, a young man with thick, flaxen hair and an extremely pointed chin. He bowed low.

"What's your name, soldier?" she asked.

"Erlend Valdssen, my queen."

"And you are one of Jelen's men?"

"Yes, my queen."

"Tell me what happened in Feirvangen."

He nodded once, and she listened patiently as he recounted the events. Apparently, Aleksander had caused a scene in the town, chasing after a young woman and fracturing the jaw of one of the townspeople who had tried to stop him. The woman was seen in a white-and-red uniform by another soldier, and her and Aleksander had disappeared into the woods. Aleksander had come back a while later, bloodied and bruised but with no captive in tow and no metal bracelet as proof of death. All of the bracelets on Runa's arms shifted and clinked as she folded her hands in her lap.

"I see," she said when Valdssen had finished. "Bring him in."

The soldier bowed again and left. Moments later, he returned with Aleksander following him. Runa's eyes passed over Valdssen entirely and focused on the other man, who was now kneeling in front of her as was expected.

He had not washed, and she wrinkled her nose. Sweat and dirt and blood. Almost the entire right side of his face was stained a dark red-brown; clearly dried blood, judging by the color and the fact that it was flaking off. The mark was in the shape of a handprint, probably too large to belong to the girl he'd been chasing down. So the blood was his own... and yes, his right hand was wrapped with a crimson material— a strip of a moravskansk uniform, if she wasn't mistaken. Beyond that, she didn't see much in the way of injuries. Just a bruise or scratch here and there.

"So," she said, and his head snapped up toward her. "You've failed. Again."

"I successfully drove off a Voják Rovnováhy," he said, sounding almost bored. "My men forced her soldiers to retreat. I would hardly call that a failure when most of your military can't do the same. My queen," he added.

"Tell me what your orders were."

"Repress the attack. Capture the girl and bring her back."

"And where is she?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't in the mood to chase her that far."

So that's how it's going to be. She would be lying if she said she was completely disappointed— it had been a while since she and Aleksander had played this game. She had brought him to heel, but he was still nipping at her ankles, testing her power. He'd get a taste of it soon enough.

"Valdssen." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the soldier straighten, hands by his sides, but most of her attention was on Aleksander. "I think at least a night in the cells would do him good, don't you?"

"Yes, my queen."

There was a gleam in Aleksander's narrowed eyes that she didn't like. The corners of his mouth were ever-so-slightly curved upward, and he'd never reminded her more of Marek than at that moment. What is he thinking?

She nodded at Valdssen, gesturing for him to grab Aleksander, but before the soldier could lay a hand on Aleksander, he spoke.

"Before you take me anywhere," he said, "let me ask you something."

Runa tilted her head.

Leaning forward, Aleksander said, "How is your son doing?"

From anyone else, it might have been a genuine question. From him, it was the furthest thing from that— it was a threat, and her jaw tightened almost to the point of cracking a tooth. He dared— dared— to threaten her son? He was on his knees in front of her, and he thought he had the power here?

"Valdssen," she said, and her voice was soft, quiet, edged. "Do you have your rifle?"

The soldier smiled knowingly. "Yes, my queen."

It wouldn't be an issue for him, she knew. Aleksander did not inspire loyalty from his men; most of his soldiers hated him for what he was, what he had done. He had slaughtered so many Rikensk soldiers, caused so much pain, and naturally his men were more than willing to return the favor.

Approaching Aleksander slowly, Valdssen lowered his rifle and spun it so that the barrel was facing away. He looked over at Runa, and once she nodded in confirmation, he brought the butt of the rifle crashing down on Aleksander's shoulder.

A dull crack split the air, and Aleksander pitched forward, the only other sound being that of his body smacking against the floor. But she knew that his silence was costing him— she could see it in his gritted teeth, the tension in his muscles.

So this was the game he wanted to play: would he show his pain, or would she decide that the damage she'd inflicted on him was enough? Runa smiled as Valdssen hit him again and again, first in lower right back, and then just between the rib cage and the hip. Still, he was quiet, teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

The rifle came down once more on the back of Aleksander's thigh, and this time he dug his nails into the edge of the thick rug. A normal soldier would be screaming now, his bones cracked from the blows, but this man was hardly normal. Hits that would ruin another person, he took without flinching. He could run someone down with the ease of a predator. He could recover quickly from injuries that would render a person useless for life. And that was what made the game so very interesting... how to make a man like Aleksander bow?

Because he would bow. She would not allow him to go after her boy, not even in words, and the fact that he had the defiance to do so... she had to quash that.

So she ordered, "Again," and shut her eyes to savor the sound: the meaty slap of wood against flesh as Valdssen's rifle hit Aleksander's upper arm, just below the shoulder. And then she heard a low, rasping noise— he was laughing at her. Raising her chin, she stared down the bridge of her nose at him.

Not enough? she thought. I've barely started.

Just as Valdssen raised his rifle again, she said, "Stop."

The soldier lowered it, but not without hesitation. His eyes were burning and he was showing his teeth in a snarl. If he had the opportunity, he'd likely beat Aleksander to death and continue to hit the body long afterward. But that would defeat the purpose, which was to destroy the defiance and not the man. General pain was not going to bring him down; she had to focus on an area that would truly hurt, to the point where even this man could not contain himself.

Runa smiled. "Step on his hand."

Coming forward, Valdssen ground the heel of his boot into Aleksander's bandaged palm. This time, Aleksander couldn't help it: he let out a low groan, muscles stiffening and eyes closed tight.

There it is. She leaned forward, heart beginning to beat faster. There it is, I've made him bow—

But it wasn't enough. If Aleksander was going to try to go after her son, if he was going to challenge her, then he could suffer the consequences. He was nothing compared to her, nothing, and she would prove it. She had the power and control.

"Harder," Runa said, voice hoarse with excitement.

At the same time as Valdssen's boot dug in deeper, Aleksander bit his forearm to muffle a cry. Small beads of red began to form around his teeth, and he was as pale as a corpse, beginning to shake.

And she? She felt so detached, the slightest of shivers running up her spine as she watched the man with utterly rapt attention. So vulnerable... How far could she bend him before he broke? If he snapped, would he be able to put himself back together again so that she could shatter him once more? Forever pushing limits, taking advantage of any weakness... this was more than a game. This was art. She let out a slow breath and gripped the fabric of her dress tightly with both hands.

Valdssen was now resting all of his considerable weight on Aleksander's hand, and she could hear the low, muffled scream rising in Aleksander's throat. The sound tore from him in one violent howl, his head flopping back against the carpet, and the feeling practically rippled through her: his pain, projected, for a single moment as intense as the death of a star. An explosion of fire that gave way to silence and darkness.

His eyes slid closed as Valdssen removed his boot, and the rise and fall of his chest was the only indicator that he was still alive. Runa's heart stopped in her chest and her eyes widened— she had done it. He would never have the audacity to even think of defying her again, she'd see to that... and if this was a lesson that had to be repeated, then she looked forward to it.

"A night in the cells would still do him good, Valdssen," she said, watching Aleksander's eyes flicker. "If he can't walk there, then drag him."

Using the tip of his boot, Valdssen gave the man a none-too-gentle kick in the ribs. Aleksander made no move to get up until the butt of Valdssen's rifle was hovering over his injured hand. He stood slowly, head high despite everything. He was still ashen and his hand was trembling, but that thin, subtle smile was back. His eyes, however, were a different story: pale and flat, utterly remote.

"Do anything you'd like to me," he said, and his voice was low to the point of being almost inaudible. "Pain won't stop me."

There was no purpose in asking what pain wouldn't stop him from doing; she knew. And she welcomed the challenge.

Hmm... also not thrilled on this one. Honestly, Runa's point of view is difficult for me. Once I start writing a character, I have to get into their mindset, and I tend to stay in it for a little while. Hers isn't a pleasant one to be in. That said, though, I did enjoy the challenge in writing her. I've never written a character quite so... sadistic.