#dog i am hoping and praying they get back to the phoenix force

[x-mensirens]

[aceprosecuties]

After losing to Phoenix Wright in court, Nahyuta is brought to the Queen’s audience chamber for punishment.  Trigger warnings for blood, flogging/whipping, and violence.  Nsfw for violence.  Approx. 2000 words.  Unedited.

“Prosecutor Sadhmadhi.  Her Eminence has ordered us to bring you to the audience chamber.”

Nahyuta was not surprised when two guards came to retrieve him in the middle of the night; even though it was well past midnight, he was wide awake and dressed.  He figured it was only a matter of time; his defeat at the hands of Phoenix Wright in court had made his aunt quite furious.  Foolishly, he had faintly hoped that she would have given him 24 hours to at least process what had gone on in those chambers, but that would be showing a level of graciousness that deep down he knew she did not possess.

So he just nodded to the guards, knowing there was no way out of this situation, and followed them through the palace.  He walked with his hands behind his back and his head held high, as he always did.  It didn’t matter how much shame and guilt and fear he held in his heart.  As long as his outward appearance showed a stoic and loyal follower of the Queen then he could keep those he loved safe.

It was no surprise that only the royal guards were present in the audience chamber when they walked through the large doors. After all, Ga’ran had set this up at this particular hour so that no public would be able to witness what was going to occur.  His aunt was a smart woman, unfortunately.  She knew that punishing Nahyuta – a beloved figure among the common citizenry – in front of a large audience might cause some to lose faith in her and give more credibility to the rebellion.  

So the only witnesses were those loyal to her. Those with such unwavering faith and piety that they would not question her choices or her orders.

After all, she was the mouthpiece of the Holy Mother.  She was of the divine.

Nahyuta was brought in front of the throne, and he bowed his head in front of the Queen before slowly falling to his knees to show her the deference she was owed.  She was dressed in her normal attire, which made her look more like a merciful goddess and less like the devil he knew she truly was.

Silence passed, and no one moved or said anything. It was as though everyone was afraid to even breathe.

“…We are very disappointed in you, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi.”  When Ga’ran finally spoke, Nahyuta still did not lift his head; he was being admonished, and it would be incredibly rude of him to look at her without first being given permission.

He had learned these things over the years.

“I deeply apologize, Your Eminence,” he said, his voice monotone but not insincere.

She laughed a little as she stood from her throne, and the sound of it almost hurt his ears.  It was a grating, terrible noise, her laugh.  Most people would find it angelic, but he knew better.  

“You apologize?  My dear…”  She descended the steps and stopped in front of him.  Nahyuta felt her long nail graze the bottom of his chin as she silently gave him permission (or perhaps commanded him) to finally look at her. There was a small smile on her face; her façade was truly as good as his own.  To everyone else, she appeared patient and wise and merciful.  They couldn’t – or maybe they did not wish to – see what was behind her regal mask.

“Your sins are far too grave for us to forgive with just a simple apology.”  She sighed, pretending to be upset with this whole predicament.  “It was one thing to lose your case when you were in a putrid foreign court.  After all, they refuse to acknowledge how filthy these criminals and their attorneys truly are.  Barbaric, really.”

She held his chin as she began stroking his cheek with her thumb, and Nahyuta sometimes wondered if a day would come where she would pluck his eye from its socket with one of her nails, which had begun to resemble claws over the years.  No…no, he didn’t have to worry about that. It would be a visible injury, and she needed to keep her prized prosecutor looking pristine to the world.

“But to lose here, in our most sacred halls of justice…you have allowed that sinful defense attorney to sully the minds of our subjects.”  She shook her head, looking more like a disappointed parent than anything.  Unfortunately Nahyuta could see the hatred and anger behind her eyes.  “You have soiled your own soul in a most heinous fashion, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, and you must be punished in a way that will allow your soul to once again be cleansed.”

“Of course, Your Eminence.  If it is your will, then it is our Holy Mother’s will…and I am nothing but your humble servant.”  It was a stock phrase he had used over the years, and it seemed to please her.  Perhaps by acknowledging fully her power over him, she would go easy on him and would leave the ones he was protecting alone.  

“Excellent.  We are happy to hear that you will not beg us for mercy.”  She beckoned over a few guards, and two of them suddenly pulled Nahyuta to his feet and began roughly stripping him of his jacket and shirt.  While he was surprised, his face showed no emotion.  He wondered what her plan was, and hoped that it would at least be quick.

He saw another guard bring something over to Ga’ran.  When she took it from his hands, Nahyuta saw that it was a multi-tailed leather whip…nine was the tradition number of tails for these things, was it not?  Fear suddenly gripped him, and he was somewhat tempted to now beg her for mercy. But that would probably backfire on him, so her just stiffened slightly.  

“Your Eminence…please forgive me for speaking out of turn,” the guard said after Ga’ran took the tool from him.  “But would you like for me to administer the punishment? For you to dirty your hands-”

She put her hand up to silence him, and he shut his mouth immediately.  

“While we appreciate your concern for us, it is our duty to purify sinners ourselves.  The Holy Mother’s mercy and grace is most powerful in us, so we must do this in order to have the best chance at saving Prosecutor Sahdmadhi’s soul.”

What a load of crap.  Nahyuta knew she just wanted to do it herself because she would get a sick pleasure out of it.  

But of course, the guard immediately accepted her explanation, and backed away.

The two holding Nahyuta spun him around so that his bare back was to the Queen, and held tightly onto his arms.  They had no intention of letting him escape…not that he would be able to go very far if he tried.  One of them moved Nahyuta’s hair so that it rested in front of him; it would be a shame for his lovely lavender strands to become tangled in the mess, really.

Nahyuta felt Ga’ran’s hand on his back.  He held his breath as she moved her fingers up and down in a slow motion.  

“You have such lovely skin, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. Flawless, really.  It is a shame we must mar it, but your body must break in order for your soul to be saved.”  She sighed, as if she truly was lamenting the fact that she had to do this to him.  “We order you not to scream.  If you do, we will be forced to add on more.”

It happened immediately after her sentence.

A harsh crack echoed through the chamber and Nahyuta felt nothing but pain.

He wanted to scream as soon as those tails made contact, splitting open his skin as easily as though he was made of butter. It was unlike any other physical pain he had experienced, and he didn’t even have time to process it fully before he felt the whips crack against his back a second time.  Since it was over the first wounds, the second time hurt worse, and he was unable to stop himself from making an anguished noise.  

A third guard approached him and stuffed something into his mouth.  A cloth of some kind.  

“We told you not to scream.”

Nahyuta didn’t know how many lashes would be added…since Ga’ran never gave him the courtesy of knowing how many he was to receive in the first place.

As she hit him a third, fourth, fifth, sixth time…he could feel tears falling from his eyes.  He did not want to cry in front of her or her dogs but it was involuntary at that point.  His entire body was shaking, and the only thing keeping him on his feet was the fact that the two guards were still holding him up.  He was practically limp in their arms and could feel blood trickling down his back.  He wondered how stained his white pants were.  How stained the Queen’s robes were with his own blood.  She would probably like it, in her own way.  She had absolute power over him, and those stains would just remind her of that.  

There was no way out for him.

He lost count after fifteen…or was it sixteen…?

It was a strange sensation; he was both in agony and numb, as if his body was trying to shut down his nerves in order to prevent him from going into shock from the pain.  

After some time, he began to silently pray.

He prayed that the Holy Mother would end this quickly.  He apologized to her for the sins he had committed.  Not the ones that Ga’ran had accused him of, but ones far more grievous. Sending people to death for crimes he knew they had not committed…pushing his father and Apollo away, condemning both of them.  Losing what remaining hope he had, and allowing himself to be Ga’ran’s puppet…he knew his soul was tainted, but he still apologized.  He did it all for those he loved…but it didn’t make it right.  

If he suffered…in this life or the next…it was fine, as long as Rayfa and his mother did not have to endure the same fate.

The room began to spin and Nahyuta could swear that he was about to black out, but he heard Ga’ran speak before that could happen. He didn’t hear exactly what she said; he had tuned out any outside noise some time ago.  But he could infer her words based on the fact that the two guards holding him suddenly let go, and Nahyuta ungracefully dropped to the floor.  He landed on his stomach, and he wished he had been able to pass out, but unfortunately he stayed conscious.  

Ga’ran walked over to him, and he felt her heel under his chin, lifting his head up to look at her.

“Now, you will be brought back to your chambers. We will send in medics to treat your wounds, but you will fast for the next twenty-four hours and you will not leave the palace.  After that, your soul will have been cleansed of your sins.”

Nahyuta just wanted to sleep.  He tasted blood in his mouth and smelled it in the air, and it made him feel nauseous.  He could feel each place on his back where his skin had been split open…it was so much that he vaguely wondered if she just had skinned him from his neck to his tailbone.  That was how it felt, anyway. 

“Thank us for what we have granted you, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” Nahyuta replied, feeling sicker the moment the words left his mouth.

She smiled and then nodded to the two guards. Nahyuta felt them lift him up to his feet, but he had no energy to stand on them, so they just dragged on the floor as he was brought back to his bedchamber.  

He blacked out before they reached the door.

[high5nerd]

Into the Open Air - ROTG

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9041929/1/Into-the-Open-Air

Date: Feb. 23, 2013

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians

Ship: General/None

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Into the Open Air

Out of all the other things I've heard happen to people, I always thought, "It'd never happen to me." And for a long time, I believed it. I was healthy, I was athletic, I ate good meals, and I hung out with my friends. I was loved by my parents, I was cared for. I helped accomplish something no other children would experience besides my close buddies, because they were there with me. We witnessed the dark sand, the towering Boogeyman. We saw the beautiful golden sand rain down on the opposing, turning the most frightening nightmares to blissful images. I believed in all of them, even Jack Frost.

But…I'd never thought I'd end up here.

My life was planned out, of course. Mom and Dad were thrilled at my excellent grades; how I yearned to go to college, raise a family just like them. I'd enter college with a soccer scholarship, and make new friends down the road. I'd end up becoming a gym teacher at the same school I went to, keeping those past memories with me when I would walk down the hall to the gym. If I couldn't be that, I would want my face to be on television, the whole world watching me kick a goal at the Fifa World Cup Championship, in the name for America. Crowds would chant my name and people would wave flags. I'd tease the opposing team with my expert moves. Once I'd reach my old age, I'd hand down my soccer gear to the oldest grandkid, and just spend my days relishing the things I did in the past on the back porch of a ranch house. I'd be faithfully married to a man I loved with all my heart, and he'd love me equally back. He'd always be by my side, even during the deliverance of our kids. Maybe two or three, but no more than four. We'd live in a big house with large land, big enough for a dog to run laps in. I knew what my future life would be like. I wanted to have it.

But apparently God didn't want me to.

The doctors said I've been diagnosed with cancer for a while, and it hasn't been detected early like it should've. Mom was crying most of the night, afraid of me. Well, maybe not afraid OF me, maybe just for me. The kids at school didn't notice a thing when I wore that annoying hospital band around my wrist, and I tried keeping my cool. I wanted to seem like nothing was wrong, like I was the normal Pippa everyone knew. But Jamie was the first one to see. I guess he does in fact pay attention to things more than I realized, because he pulled me aside from a soccer game after school.

"Pippa, are you okay?" he asked me seriously.

"Yeah! Never been better, why?" I forced a smile. My chest was starting to hurt again.

"You're not a very good liar, Pips." He frowned, "and look, I'm not the only one noticing you're getting thin. I mean, look at you! You look like a walking stick!" he poked my side.

I just laughed it off like it was nothing. To me, it was nothing. To my friends, it was worrying and curious. To my parents, it was scary and worth crying about.

One night, I sat in my room on the floor, playing a one-on-one game of checkers with myself. The doctor said I had to stay home for a while. He said it was getting worse. Dad knew I was worried about my own leukemia, so he said as he was bringing in my dinner, "Hey, baby cakes; let's look up what leukemia is. Maybe we can learn something, kind of like school." He tried putting on one of his small smiles.

"Like health class?" I look up, knowing my dark circles from painful sleep were visible even in the dim light.

He bit his lip as he sat down next to me with his laptop open. I couldn't tell if he was thinking or trying to hold back tears. All I knew is that he was struggling.

"You got it, Pips. Just like health class."

I learned about different childhood cancers, and a little bit more on leukemia. It's a cancer in the blood cells, mostly the white ones. It starts off in my bones, and then spreads on from there. Dad says it's because the marrow-I don't know what that is-in my bones makes the blood cells, and the disease is in there. Also, I have a type of leukemia called AML. I don't know what that stands for. The worst thing I read even made me close to crying. Dad had to leave the room, knowing something I didn't. Usually, there's a five-year survival rate for children; for me. If I live beyond those five years, then it only means I'm cured.

For the first time in ages, I prayed that night. I prayed that I would live, that my marrow would become healthy again. When I got into bed and turned off the light, I couldn't fall asleep. I knew even as I lay there, I wasn't safe. I was wallowing in fear. What if the Boogeyman came out and gave me a nightmare? So I said out loud, strongly and bravely:

"Now is not the good time, Pitch. You crawl back to whatever hovel you call home and leave me alone. Do not come near me."

I fell asleep listening to my mother's crying and the wind howling outside, not knowing what was in store for me.

That was three years ago. Now, I'm permanently stuck in the hospital. The leukemia was fighting back against the medications and the chemotherapy, and I was losing the war. I stayed in bed mostly, watching the other hospitalized kids play on the play mats, draw in the coloring books, or talk to one another about their reason being here. I called in a nurse and asked her if I could play with them once, and she gave me a sad look and then said, "No. You need to stay in bed."

I can't even move. I ache all over. I feel pain. I'm a weightless freak. Mom tried taking my white cap off, but I choked out a yell when she almost tugged it off my head. I may have lost my hair, but there's no way I'm losing my favorite hat. She would sit next to me after work hours to read me the paper, or one of my favorite books. She even brought in the DVD player so we could watch Finding Nemo together. Something tells me she's never watching it again.

More days passed, and the doctors finally had the guts to tell me my cancer was terminal. I didn't know what that meant, and I guess that's why they told me. They knew I didn't know the term, so they told the innocent truth. So, being the sneaky girl I always am, I clicked the red button near my bed that called in a nurse. She came in hurriedly, quickly asking what was wrong.

"Can I have a dictionary, please?" I did my always-victorious puppy eyes.

"Of course, sweetheart." She smiled warmly.

I cried for a long time that night once I read the definition. Afterwards, I hated Webster dictionary. I blamed it like it was its fault for me having leukemia, that it was terminal. Terminal means the end.

Terminal cancer means there's no cure.

I'm dying. There's no hope. I have no life. I can't live the life I dreamed of having. I can't see any of my friends anymore, or even my family. I can't listen to music or kick a ball around. I'll be dead in the ground, all cold and dark. I can't imagine myself going to Heaven. I feel like I haven't been good enough. I wasn't given enough time.

The last night of my life came. I lay awake, listening to the other's heart monitors, especially mine. By and by each hour, it was slowing down. I closed my eyes, not in sleep, but in hope,

"Sandman…please…I need you. Sandman, I need you now." I opened my eyes.

Nothing.

I closed my eyes again, tighter, "I need a dream, Sandman. I need a dream to escape this nightmare. Please…I'm begging you."

I opened my eyes again.

Nothing.

Tears stung my eyes as my head sunk back into the pillow, ultimately defeated. I couldn't help it, I was breaking. I've been strong and brave throughout the entire operations and doctor visits. It's about time I let loose those tears I've held back for a long time.

"Help me." I cried, feeling my cheeks wetting.

Images of birthday candles, snow falling, soccer trophies and smiling friends flitted across my mind. Mom and Dad's happy laughter rang in my ears, along with the drone of the school teacher's. Memories of rainfall, of hiking with my parents, of sleeping over at Jamie's house, of playing with dogs all tortured me. I can never count to ten to play hide-and-seek. I will never finish a good novel I started long ago. I can't wrap any Christmas presents in silvery paper and green bows for my loved ones, and I can't help Jamie's sister Sophie find Easter eggs. I can't sleep in my room, and I can't eat enormous amounts of popcorn on Friday nights. Never again.

Suddenly, I felt a warm hand touch my bare arm. My eyes jolted open at the sudden feeling. I can't help but feel startled. But soon, the fright was replaced with overflowing joy. A smile spread across my face.

Sandman put a finger to his mouth, and then waved. He wanted me to be quiet. He was just the same as before, during that Guardian fight. He literally glowed with bright sand, and he was floating on a sand cloud to be level with my bed. He held out his hand, offering comfort. I squeezed his hand, but not too hard. He looked worried.

"I'm dying." I choked out between tears.

He nodded sadly, patting my hand with his other one.

"Will it hurt?" I whispered, hearing one of the kids stir in their sleep.

Sandman shook his head, looking at me straight in the eye. He was serious.

"Will I ever see you again?" I lay down, watching his sand dance around him and my bed.

He frowned, thinking deeply. He then looked back up at me and shrugged. A sand image of a phoenix rising from ashes formed above his head, along with a question mark.

"Reincarnation?" I guessed, smiling at the small games of charades.

He beamed at my accurate guess, and then patted my head approvingly. I could almost know what he's saying, Good job! I didn't think you would guess that

He stopped smiling when I hoarsely cried in pain. My whole body was starting to really hurt, especially my heart. I let go of his hand to hold my chest, hoping maybe that would help. I took deep breaths, and then soon, the pain passed again. It's been doing that for a while, soon to be never again.

"Sandman, can I ask for something?" I whispered.

I couldn't help it. My eyes were fluttering shut and my breathing slowed down. The heart beeping was becoming less frequent.

Sandman nodded, watching me with sad eyes.

"Can I have a dream? One more dream?" I looked at him, trying to keep my eyes open.

He floated up and sat next to me on my bed, Indian style. He touched my cheek and nodded, knowing my time was drawing to a close. He pointed to me, and then shut his eyes.

He wanted me to close my eyes. Does he know they'll never open again?

I did so. Soon, I felt a small tickle on my shoulders and on the tip of my nose. It was sand. I calmed down, taking a deep, shaking breath. Maybe even my last one.

Images of stars floated in front of my eyes. The dream he gave me was like nothing I've ever had. For the first time, I had all my senses in the dream. I touched clouds of nebula, I raced shooting stars, I spun around asteroids with a smile on my face; freedom. I was free. No pain. I felt like I was being tickled, hearing the best jokes from the funniest people. I was having a ball. I danced between comets, twirling among the shining stars.

I never woke up.