The door creaked open with a slow, deliberate groan, and Gale’s eyes flickered toward it. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. The heavy footsteps were unmistakable—those of the King himself. The man whose cruelty had a reputation that stretched far beyond these stone walls.

King Varys stood in the doorway, his tall frame a looming presence in the dimly lit room. His gaze was cold, unfeeling. He didn’t care about the blood on Gale’s skin, the bruises covering his body, or the chains digging into his wrists. To him, Gale was just another obstacle to crush under his boot.He ignored the girl,focusing on his target instead.

“You’re still here?” Varys’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it, something dangerously calm.

Gale’s chest heaved with shallow breaths. He hadn’t spoken in hours, maybe longer. The silence between them was thick, like the air before a storm, but he didn’t give the King the satisfaction of acknowledging him immediately. He stayed slumped against the wall, eyes half-lidded, barely able to keep himself upright, let alone engage in any meaningful conversation.

The King stepped closer, the clinking of his armor almost melodic as he moved. There was no rush to his steps. He wanted to savor this.

Gale’s lips twitched upward in something that barely resembled a smile, though it was more out of defiance than any real amusement. “What is it you want this time?” he croaked, his voice hoarse from the hours of torture.

Varys didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Gale’s chin, forcing his head up so that their eyes locked. The pain from the pressure made Gale wince, but he didn’t break. He refused to let the King see any weakness.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Varys whispered, his fingers digging into Gale’s skin. “You think I can’t break you. That I can’t make you talk.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed, his defiance never wavering. “You think I’ll beg? You think you’ve got anything left that will get me to beg you for mercy?”

The King’s lips curved slightly into a smile, but it wasn’t a smile of amusement—it was cold, calculating. He released Gale’s chin with a sudden, sharp motion and took a step back.

“Beg? No, I don’t expect you to beg, Gale,” Varys said softly, almost as if the words were a gentle caress. “I just need you to understand something. I will break you. And when I do, it won’t be mercy you get. It’ll be something worse.”

Gale’s breath hitched slightly at the quiet malice in the King’s voice, but he refused to give in. “Worse?” He chuckled dryly, even though it made his throat burn. “You can try. But I won’t be the one who breaks.”

The King stared at him for a long moment, as though considering his next move. Then, with deliberate slowness, he walked around Gale, circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. Gale didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. If he did, if he gave the King any sign of weakness, that would be the moment he lost.

“I’ve given you time,” Varys said finally, his voice no more than a soft murmur, but it carried a threat. “But there are only so many games I’m willing to play. You can stay here and keep your silence, but that won’t stop what’s coming next.”

Gale’s eyes followed the King as he moved, but his expression never changed. “What’s next, then? More poison? More whips?” He wasn’t sure how much more his body could take, but he would die before he showed any sign of breaking. “I’ve had worse.”

The King paused, his gaze suddenly sharpening. “Oh, I’m sure you have. But this time, you won’t be so lucky.” He stepped forward again, his face close to Gale’s now, his breath warm against the raw, cut skin of Gale’s face. The King’s eyes were like ice—cruel, unfeeling. “You’ll wish you’d never been born by the time I’m done with you.”

Before Gale could respond, Varys’s hand shot out again, grabbing his jaw and forcing his head back. The pain was intense, but Gale kept his eyes fixed on the King’s face, unwilling to back down. The King had nothing over him—not yet.

For a long moment, Varys just stared at him, as if trying to make some last-ditch effort to break Gale’s spirit. When the King finally spoke again, his voice was calm, almost detached.

“Think on that while you wait,” he said, as if the conversation were nothing more than a casual chat over dinner. “I’ll be back when I’m ready to finish what we’ve started.”

And with that, Varys turned on his heel and left the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the silence he left behind. The door slammed shut, and Gale was alone again, suspended in the quiet darkness of the cell.

The King’s words lingered in the air like a cloud of smoke, but Gale didn’t give them any power. He’d heard worse. He’d been through worse. And he wasn’t going to let a man like Varys dictate how this would end.

Kayla watched in astonishment as Gale stood his ground. He was in pain and the king did nothing. He was known by everyone as hospitable, but apperantly not to criminals. "Has he been like that the whole time?" She asked quietly

Gale didn’t answer her right away. He barely even heard the girl’s voice at first—his mind was still trying to push through the fog of pain and exhaustion. But then the words registered, clear and sharp against the dull ache in his head.

“Has he been like that the whole time?”

The question was simple, almost innocent. But Gale’s gaze flicked over to her, his eyes hollow, reflecting the weight of everything he’d endured. He tried to sit up straighter, but the movement sent a stab of pain through his ribs.

His lips parted, but his voice came out rough, as if it hadn’t been used in days. “You have no idea," he rasped, his eyes staring off into the distance like he could still see the remnants of the King’s cruelty in the shadows. "He's... relentless. Every time I think I’ve hit the bottom, he finds a way to dig deeper.”

He paused, the words catching in his throat. Talking about it—about him—was like ripping off an old wound, one that never fully healed. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t trying to protect anyone anymore. He was too far gone for that.

“It’s not just the torture, you know.” His voice barely rose above a whisper. “It’s the way he looks at you, like you’re nothing but a problem to be solved. Like you’re just another... thing. Another thing to be bent and broken.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, breathing in through his nose as if trying to push the thought away. When he opened them again, the rawness in them was visible, but his expression was hard. “So yeah,” he said quietly, “he’s been like that the whole time. And I’m starting to think he’s never gonna stop.”

His gaze shifted toward the door, his jaw tightening. “And when he does come back... it won’t be any better than before.”

A flash of anger went through Kayla's mind, it showing briefly on her face before she looked down again. "What are you able to do?" She asked, curious if he'd be able to escape in the next few days. "The bad news is, he won't kill you" She admitted. "Only hurt you more"

Gale's body sagged, his wrists aching as he hung limply in the chains. His thoughts were a haze of exhaustion, and he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. The pain was relentless. Every bruise, every cut, every bruise on his skin—he could feel it all, but he couldn’t escape it.

“Nothing,” he whispered to the empty room, his voice hoarse. “I can’t do anything. Not anymore.”

The words felt like an admission of defeat, but they were the truth. The King had taken everything. His strength. His will. Even his pride.

The door suddenly creaked open, pulling Gale out of his haze. Two guards stepped in, their presence as cold and merciless as ever.

Before he could even register what was happening, they were on him. Rough hands grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet. His legs wobbled, almost giving way beneath him, but the guards didn’t care. They dragged him, stumbling and unresisting, back toward the original spot.

His head felt light. The room spun. Every step was agony. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt anything other than pain and exhaustion. It was as if his entire existence had become one continuous blur of suffering.

They shoved him back into the center of the room, and Gale’s legs buckled. His knees hit the floor hard. He barely had the energy to lift his head. A low groan escaped his lips, but the guards didn’t care. They hauled him back up, securing his arms to the chains above him once again.

His body hung there, barely able to support itself. His feet barely brushed the cold stone floor. He was back to where he’d started. The room spun, the world dimming at the edges of his vision.

They’d done it again. They’d broken him down, and now they were just waiting for the next round. The next set of pain, of torment, of cruelty. The King would be back soon enough, and Gale knew it wouldn’t be any different. There was no escape.

“Nothing,” Gale muttered to the air, the room suffocating him with its silence. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the ragged breaths coming too fast, too shallow. He could do nothing. He was nothing.

Kayla watched in horror as Gale was dragged off, wishing she could do something. She searched his eyes for something other than pain, but found nothing. He'd seemed so sure of himself at her father's kingdom as rebellious, but now.....now he was just in pain and misery

Gale hung there, barely conscious, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. The room was cold, the air thick with the smell of old blood and metal. His muscles screamed from the strain of being suspended, his wrists raw from the chains, his feet just barely grazing the floor.

He had been here too long, caught in the cycle of torment. He'd been pushed to his limit—physically, mentally, emotionally. But still, something inside him refused to give in.

Not yet. Not until they make me.

The door creaked open again, and Gale’s heart skipped a beat, his body instinctively tensing. Footsteps echoed off the stone floor as two guards entered, followed by the King—looming over him like some dark shadow.

The King didn’t speak immediately. He just stood there, staring down at Gale like a predator assessing its prey. Gale kept his eyes on the floor, not willing to look up.

The silence stretched on, suffocating.

Then the King spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve been stubborn. But I know you’re breaking. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. You’ve seen what I can do to your body. To your mind.”

Gale swallowed, his throat dry. He clenched his teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. But he could feel it—the weight of the King’s gaze, like a physical force.

“You don’t need to keep up this act,” the King continued. “You’re no different from anyone else. You’ll break. Everyone breaks.”

Gale’s heart raced, his chest tightening as the King stepped closer, his cold fingers brushing under Gale's chin, forcing him to lift his head and meet his eyes. The pressure of the King’s hand on his jaw was like a vice, squeezing, making it impossible to look away.

For a long moment, Gale’s gaze locked with his captor’s. There was something cold in the King’s eyes—something almost… amused. Like he enjoyed watching Gale’s resistance falter.

“You’re going to tell me everything,” the King whispered, his tone soft but dripping with menace. “The question is, how much longer do you want to hold on before I make you scream it out?”

The pressure on Gale’s jaw increased, his mouth forced open, his teeth grinding together. His mind screamed for him to stay silent, to hold on. But something inside him cracked.

His breath hitched as the words escaped his lips, though not the truth.

"I— I don’t know anything," he said, the words barely more than a rasp. But there was a strange, hollow confidence in his voice. "I don’t know where it is. I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

The King’s smile was slow, predatory. He leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You do know. You just don’t want to tell me.”

Gale clenched his fists behind his back, the chains digging deeper into his skin, but he didn’t care anymore. He was fighting a war in his mind now, a battle between survival and the truth. The truth could break him. It could destroy everything he had left.

He had to lie. He had to hold onto the one thing that was still his—his mind.

“I don’t know where it is,” Gale repeated, this time with more force. His voice was shaky, but his words were firm. “I was never part of it. I don’t know why you’re keeping me here, but I swear to you, I don’t know anything about your plans, your people, or whatever it is you want from me.”

The King’s smile faltered just slightly, his eyes narrowing. Gale could feel the anger building in the air. He could hear the King’s breath, feel the tension as if it could snap at any second.

The King’s voice was low, almost a growl as he stepped back. “You lie so easily.”

Gale didn’t answer. His body ached, his stomach churned with hunger, but he didn’t give in. The pain was nothing compared to the fear of telling the truth.

The King nodded to the guards. Without a word, they moved forward, unfastening the chains from Gale’s wrists and dragging him back to the center of the room. The floor was cold beneath him, and his body trembled from the strain. They weren’t done with him yet. He knew that. The real torment was just beginning.

As they yanked him back into place, Gale closed his eyes. His chest heaved with the effort to stay calm, to keep his mind from slipping further into the chaos.

He was lying. But at least it was his lie. It was the only thing he could control anymore.

Kayla went back upstairs into the castle, non-chalantly grabbing an apple and a roll before walking back down to the cells. She waited for Gale to be brought back

The darkness of the room seemed to grow thicker as Gale hung there, the cold chains biting into his wrists, his body a trembling mess of exhaustion and pain. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, the air in the room thick with the stench of blood and metal. The events of the past few days had left him near broken, but his mind still clung to fragments of defiance, of something that kept him from fully surrendering.

The King had been gone for a while, but Gale knew that would only mean one thing: the worst was yet to come. And when the door creaked open, footsteps resounding in the cold stone, Gale knew the time for the games was over.

The King entered slowly, almost leisurely, his presence looming like an oppressive weight in the air. He didn’t say a word at first, just standing there, taking in Gale’s broken form with a slow, calculating gaze. There was no rush. The King had all the time in the world.

Gale, despite everything, still refused to meet his eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his body trembling from the abuse it had endured. If he looked up, it would only make things worse. He had nothing left to give.

The King didn’t waste time. He stepped closer, his boots clicking against the stone floor. Without a word, he took hold of Gale’s chin, gripping it tight with gloved hands, forcing Gale’s head up. The sharp sting of the King’s fingers on his face made Gale’s teeth grit, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Tell me what I want to know, Gale,” the King said, his voice low and almost gentle. The kind of voice someone used when they had already decided that they would break you, piece by piece. “Tell me where it is.”

Gale’s mind raced. He knew the King would press harder this time. He had no illusions left about what was coming. The truth... it was inevitable, wasn’t it? They had broken his body, shattered his will. It felt like everything inside him was slipping away, like the last threads of his resistance were fraying.

The King, sensing Gale’s hesitation, took a step back, and Gale could hear him pull something from his belt. When the King moved into his line of sight again, there it was—a long, thin blade, gleaming coldly in the dim light.

Gale’s heart skipped a beat, his body instinctively pulling away from the sharp edge as the King brought the knife up, lightly tracing it along the skin of his throat. The chill of the blade was unmistakable, its touch as sharp as a warning.

“You think this will stop?” the King whispered. His breath was cold against Gale’s ear. “You think I’ll just let you keep pretending there’s nothing to say? You’ll tell me. Or this blade will carve it out of you.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Gale’s world was reduced to the pressure of the blade on his neck and the weight of the King’s hand forcing him to stay still. The cold steel pressed closer, biting at his skin, and Gale’s pulse thundered in his ears.

The truth burned in the pit of his stomach. His mouth went dry. No matter how hard he fought, he knew deep down that he couldn’t keep hiding it.

“It’s... it’s in Iekburgg...” Gale’s voice cracked as the words spilled out, the admission leaving him hollow inside. He had tried—he tried—but there it was, the truth slipping from his lips in a panicked rush.

The King’s expression flickered for just a moment, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He could see the struggle in Gale’s eyes, the fight not yet fully gone, but the truth was out now.

Gale, still gasping for air, immediately shut his mouth, unwilling to say another word. His breath came in shaky bursts, his chest heaving with the strain of resisting, but he said nothing more. The pain in his side was a constant throb, and his whole body ached from the beatings, but it was the mental weight that threatened to break him.

The King’s smile widened, just slightly, but it was enough to send a chill down Gale’s spine.

“Iekburgg,” the King repeated, savoring the word like it was a victory. “You really thought you could keep this from me?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, and Gale felt his stomach tighten with dread. He had said it. He had given in. But he wasn’t finished yet.

Before Gale could even process what was happening, the King’s fist collided with his face, hard enough to make his vision blur. Pain exploded across his skull, and for a brief moment, he thought he might pass out.

But they didn’t let him.

The guards moved in then, dragging Gale back to the center of the room, their hands rough and uncaring. The cold steel of the chains were fastened back around his wrists, suspending him once more in that agonizing, helpless position. His head spun, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, but still, he refused to speak.

The King, standing just beyond him, looked at him with cold eyes, not a hint of pity or even respect in his gaze. “You think silence will protect you now?” the King sneered. “It’s just more time for me to break you further.”

Gale couldn’t answer. He was beyond answering. His body swayed with the weight of the chains, his mind lost in the haze of pain. All he could do was wait for the next round of torment to begin.

Kayla heard the voices and listened in again, anger flashing through her once more as she heard the king's threats and Gale speaking. She grit her teeth in frustration