The Black Cells

However long it took them to reach the stairs that lead down into the dungeons wasn’t quite clear, mainly due to the fact that each time they’d pass a group of nobles the guards would stop and continue on their made up stories of Azaroth and his supposed sheltered life in Highgarden. When they finally reached the stairs that delved down below the Keep Azaroth turned his head to look at the many guards behind him that were not from the ordeal that morning, his eyes narrowed to them with a questioning look of how far down they were going and from that split second one of the guards actually started speaking.

“You can’t seriously be thinking of placing him further down, there’s a reason nobles are jailed separate to the common folk on the first level and that both are kept away from the third level, if the King finds out…”

“If our King finds out that we arrested a noble who only paraded around the Royal Keep with a sword but also blatantly ignored the orders from his Royal Guard, I’m sure the King will give us a reward or perhaps a promotion, you know how he loves to punish people to show his power and we’ve just given him the perfect opportunity to do so on a silver platter; venison will be served to the Knight tonight. And we aren’t even finished searching the criminal, one would think if he was stupid enough to carry a sword that he’d also be dumb enough to keep a dagger on his person, when we get to the Black Cells we will check and when we find the added weapons it’ll be more than enough cause for him to bypass the pleasant cells of above and rot in darkness for a little while.”

Even with what the ring leader Gold Cloak was saying some of the others were still rather iffy about it, if others were around they would generally not question another of their order but since it was only them and a criminal they were rather loose tongued. Though even with the reasons he had given, some of the men at his back weren’t completely satisfied with it, though this wasn’t so much about the Mad King and what he would do if he found out they had abused their power, which would almost never happen any considering their power was borrowed from him and he saw himself as almighty. No, what they were worried about was the rest of the Baratheon herd, the eldest brother and Lord Paramount was a demon among men, rumours spilled from visitors to the Stormlands that he was actually hatched from an egg like a dragon, and to look at the man himself would all but confirm the possibility. The Beast of Storm’s End was a whole other monster to them though, elder sister to Azaroth and every bit Baratheon as her brothers were, she had gone toe to toe with the King on many subjects in the past and not once had they witnessed her walk away the loser, she infuriated the King to no end yet he still held back on aiming his wrath at her and for that very reason alone she was known to be rather untouchable. 

Finally the darkened cells of the third level passed him by, the only light guiding their way was the torches held by some of the Gold Cloaks, unlike other levels of the dungeon above there was no wall hangings for light and this was the reason the Black Cells got their name in the first place. Half way down the hall Azaroth was forced into the small dark room, the wooden door pushed to the side wasn’t even tall enough for the man to enter, but crouch down he did until his form was under and inside. At first his top was cut by the main guard who had sited the situation while the others held their torches, with darkness surrounding them it would take but a slight flicker of the flames for him to miss his mark and slice into the Young Lord, but thankfully that hadn’t happened.

“You see boys, what did I tell you? Another weapon at his back and now that we’ve found this we wouldn’t be doing our duty if we didn’t strip him of the rest of his attire in search for more blades.” 

He was loving this, it couldn’t have played out better if he had set the whole thing up himself, which in actual fact he had done, and done it rather well. When news hit him that the Younger Baratheon Male had reached King’s Landing he talked with all his Gold Cloak buddies about letting him slide on the weapon, some had thought it was a sign of respect, others fear, but none had really gathered that it was just a set up. After getting Azaroth to step out of his heavy boots they found yet another dagger, in sighting the search of his trousers and causing them to be removed, leaving him wearing only his braies that covered his waist all the way down to around his knees. 

“I think that’s it gentlemen, unless he’s hiding something within these.” With a pull of the waistband the guard laughed and let them go before turning to his people and heading out of the tiny blackened cell. “Just as I thought nothing worth mentioning down there.”

When the thick studded wooden door closed over Azaroth was left in perpetual darkness, even though now he couldn’t even see a finger in front of his face he had seen enough when the guards stood around with their torches to know just how small the cell was, and the fact that it held no windows, beds or even a bucket to shit in. The Straw on the floor was all but wasted and probably hadn’t been cleaned in centuries and to top it all off the bastards hadn’t even taken the shackles from his wrists and as he stood there wondering just what kind of diseases he’d catch from sitting on the straw below the bitter cold was starting to set in.

A few days ago, Xocylla casted a spell that went wrong changing a woman into a hybrid of part cat,mouse, and the tail of a snake. King Alexander ordered the monstrosity to be placed in the black cells. After the monster was locked up Xocylla stole it from the cell to research her mistake after examining it she always placed it back in the cell. On her way back to the cell her anger arose. She was on her final straw of the stupid thing.

“What a disgrace. There is no time for error and yet you managed to soil a simple spell. Now carry your shame! Dispose of the monstrosity that you’ve created. It’s not what he wanted. It should of been perfect.” Bundled up in her arms she looked down at the creature she made, like a mother of her own child. Just unlike a mother loving her child, Xocylla despised what she held. Yet she just looked into the creature’s eyes revealing the female she changed.. “It’s..all your fault! You are the one that got in my head. It was you!” She coiled her arms constricting the creature as it gurgled in a high pitch noise. With a sigh of discontentment she loosen her embrace. “You don’t have much time left anyway. You won’t last till the night. I am curious to see what happens to your body with the malfunction of the effects. I hope it spreads. We will see. I think I have a few prisoners to play with--”

“You can’t seriously be thinking of placing him further down---” Distant voices made her pause in her footsteps. Multiple footsteps made their way closer as she turned pulling her hood over her face. She looked down at the child. “Well looks like you are going to have a new playmate, Child.” She began to speed up in her stride as she dashed behind a giant curtain that bore the kingdom’s crest. Behind this curtain was a small hole not just any hole it was a gateway to a maze of tunnels throughout the dungeons.

What most people don’t know about the Red Keep is that there are hidden tunnels throughout the kingdom. Even Xocylla doesn’t know most of these passages but she did know the ones in the dungeons very well. No wonder prisoners disappeared randomly and quite so often. From her small peep hole all she could see was the prisoner’s back. Certainly was a sculpted figure of a young male with black hair with lean muscle but in seconds they disappeared to the darkest and blackest of cells.

The moment the guards left the prisoner was doomed to his fate. Xocylla pulled herself into the cell by another small hole in which she could easily slide through. She placed the ball of fabric in the corner as she paced around him estimating his measurement of height and how much he weighed. She was silent to the best she could be. “Could it be possible that the creature could spread the spell on to him. If so I’m sure the King would be please. He could have his own little disaster of a plague in his hands.“ She wondered to herself as she tapped her right toe against the prisoner's shackles making a small cling of impact this was to startle him of course. She watched his reflex as this gave her some sort of idea of his endurance. She swung around him as she pricked a strange of his hair and plopped in her mouth for a taste. As she assumed he was quite healthy just by the taste of his hair was bathed properly not like most of her prisoners that were commoners. If she recalled correctly the guard did state a noble. She began to pace around the prisoner again, she leaned her head closer to his face she wrinkled her nose. “You smell familiar my little experiment” her voice trailed and echoed through the cells giving it a hard trace to know exactly where she was even though she was directly in front of him. Her dragon eyes sparkled a brief light between their faces. It was long enough for her to catch a glimpse of his face. With all the movement, sounds, who knew where her experiments eyes were focused on. Hell even if they were open. She saw what she needed to see. She knew who he was the moment she saw the outline of his face. Azaroth Baratheon. One out of the four Baratheon children she was lucky enough to grow up with. She pulled back something was happening in her body this warm sensation came over her. Is this what it feels like to care for someone? The very sight of someone she used to play with as a child caused her to feel this sensation. “She screeched as the sensation burned against her cold black heart. It trailed up against her throat as she swung her body back trying to scratch it away with her claw like nails on her throat. She couldn’t take it. She felt the dark curse once again take control while the burning warmth faded. She pulled the creature where she left it and turned to Azaroth her voice emerged echoing in every corner of the cell. “What have you done to me? What if he finds out? He won’t be please.” She tossed the half deteriorated creature on Azaroth’s lap and just in that moment she slipped back into her secret tunnel pressing her forehead against the stone wall with a small hole to watch the remaining moments of her child’s life.


The creature gargled by its suffocation. Making unbearably abnormal sounds from the air bubbles in it’s throat. The combination of its bodily fluids filled its throat as it began to enlarge and dislocate. Restlessly it tosses back and forth trying to flip on it’s stomach. The smell only clouded the cell as it poured from it’s mouth vile discharge. The creature continued to repeatedly vomit from the build up having the liquid fly in all directions making it bare impossible to miss Azaroth. After the discharge settled the creature’s body then relaxed and everything went silent in the cell. Till it’s body exploded from all the air build up in it’s heart as flying shreds flesh confetti went everywhere most likely landing on Azaroth. Just when the situation couldn’t get any worse the smell became more tense and stronger as the inner body was now exposed.

After all said and done Xocylla made it back to her chambers. She slammed the door behind her as she began to pant. Why was she feeling the things she was feeling and what about that voice? Why is this all happening now? Maybe she wasn’t completely lost in light. After her heartbeat returning to normal she pulled her book of shadows from the nearby shelf and began to write the effects of the spell. Sadly there was no infection to the experiment [Azaroth]. She was interrupted again by a knock on her chamber doors as she sighed closing her book and made her way to the door. Gripping the latch she pulled the door only to a crack. To her surprise it was one of the handmaidens of Lady Rhaelle. Passing word from Lady Rhaelle herself, she listened intrigued as she nodded in return. “Please inform Lady Rhaelle it shall be done”.

There was little time to lose. There’s a certain amount of time for it to take effect for the potion to last through the whole night. She made her way to her desk as she tossed lavender leaves, a frog’s leg, pomegranate seeds, and of course for any of her spells to be as strong as they are blood. Not just any blood but a drop of her own as she ran her dagger along the grasp of her hand as a few droplets of blood landed into the bowl. “Peaceful dreams for the longest night, grant it for King Alexander himself. Please for I wish him a blissful night of sleep.” She cursed the potion with a charm hex for good measure just in case there was always room to take precautions. she filled an empty vial.

She made her way to his majesty's chambers knowing he must be busy doing other sorts of things. Countless of times she watched the King drink just before bed. This night shall be no different. She poured her potion into his wine pitcher. The wine’s fragrance will eliminate the potions smell as there was no harm. Even the poison taster boy himself couldn’t notice the change. She sighed making her way back to her apartments and return to her Book of Shadows.

As the doors finally closed over and Azaroth was left standing there in nothing but his braies as the bitter cold bounced from stone wall to stone wall and wish each passing seemed like a minor lash from a whip. Perpetual darkness surrounded him to the point where even if he wanted to look around the small cell he wouldn’t have that opportunity, even seeing his own hand in front of his face was impossible at this point and the only thing he could be certain about was that the cell floor was laced in a mixture of dry and wet straw, as both types meshed in against his bare feet. 

Not even minutes had passed before new sounds found way to his ears, some people said when you were absent one of your senses that it enhanced the others, a survival tactic of sorts that had never really been proven true or not and no matter if this was the case or just the small cell allowed for him to hear the goings on around him he was very much aware of a new presence within his humble quarters. The brushing of fabric against hard stone altered him at first only to be replaced by the heavier sound of something being placed in one of the corners at his back, or maybe it was in front of him; with how the sounds bounced off the thick brick walls he couldn’t be too sure of where the sounds came from but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of them existing.

For a second the noises ceased to exist within the cells, The Young Baratheon’s eyes closed over as once again cold air passed over his form, bitterly stinging at his skin while he stood statuesque waiting for the next noise to guide him as to where the newcomer was. Just like he had predicted the sounds once again started but this time they were even closer to his form, the pitter-patter of tiny feet pacing around him had his head turning ever few seconds, seemingly locking on to her movements before another one caught his attention. Up until now whoever or whatever manner of creature or human was stalking around in his cell had stayed a decent distance away from The Young Lord, perhaps this was their chance to see a noble degraded down to the level even below a peasant, even some of the richest men and woman he had met over the years looked down upon the noble titles as no matter how much wealth they possessed, they would never achieve any station near that of a Great House. A simple knock to his shackles was enough to cause the sound to echo off each of the walls, the clinking noise had him once again shift his head to where he thought the person was, the only other indication of someone at this moment was the light breathing he could make out every few seconds, though now they were starting to come more often than before.

The sudden loud screech from whoever was in his cell caused his eyes to narrow and his body to tense, fingers finally took the form of fists and his shoulders straightened as his muscles tightened while he waited to be assaulted from the shadows. Though nothing came after a few seconds of waiting, the breathing had picked up in the cell along with what sounded like scratching of skin, hard scratching like someone was attempting to peel off skin or escape from a body, whatever was going on with the person in his cell he was almost certain they weren’t here just to say hello and chat with him. After having a hair pulled from his arm previously he had some suspicion on who it was that stalked the Black Cells, even if he hadn’t heard the stories of The Summer Witch he had indeed known her as a child, though years had passed he could still recall the way she looked at people, sizing them up as if to devour them or that mad twinkle in her eye that always caused him to wonder just what mad thoughts she had. 

She spoke and it was all but confirmed that it was indeed Xocylla who was lurking in the shadows. Though some relief formed in his mind it was quickly extinguished because even though they knew each other as kids, even though her sister was indeed the closest thing to a best friend his own sister had, that may not have been enough to save him from her experiments. Should he say something? Mention that he knew her, perhaps recall a time or two where they had conversed as children or the recant one of many stories she or her sister told around bright burning fires in Storm’s End? No, chances are if she didn’t already know who he was then his added information wouldn’t even matter, if she had set her eyes on him as a subject then something like childhood friendship or familiar bonds wouldn’t be enough to stop the Summer Witch, or would it?

His answer came swiftly just like the question he had asked himself, though it came in the form of abnormal sounds of suffocation and pain, something akin to bones breaking, skin ripping and thick liquid hitting the floor beneath him only had his attention for a split second before his centre was hit with something heavier than a child but not quite as heavy as a grown woman. Whatever discharge fell from the bundle he had caught started to drip onto his bare feet, with toes moving to try and avoid any further splat of the matter it just seeped between them, causing the straw below to stick and cling to his skin. His skin sizzled lightly as the crippled body came undone of the cloth it was wrapped in, more fluid coated his arms and hands heavy breaths turned into painful groans and eventually the only thing coming from the being he held was the smell of death; though far from the smell of dead people or rotting flesh, vastly different from the stench of a decaying corpse, if he had to guess upon the smell he would have guessed Death itself circled him and had blown directly in his face. 

The creature still in his arms was now limp and dead, it had to be, not a single motion had come from it since the vile smell filled the cell he was trapped inside. The thick syrup like blood of the creature that coated his feet arms hands and torso was still tingling his skin, a warm sensation passed over him as the sound of what seemed to be sizzling came from the straw at his feet. Whatever it was that coated his person was potent enough to melt through the straw and as such he couldn’t help but wonder why he was still attached to his skin, why it wasn’t melting off his person like the creature he held or why all the feeling he got from it was a light heat that wasn’t anywhere near as discomforting as the cold chills that moved from cell to cell with the wind. The only thing that he could think of was that his relationship with the woman had indeed saved his life, saved his skin to be exact. Whatever spell she had placed upon the dead thing he held was negated by her personally and as such whatever killed the being hadn’t affected him, it was the only thing that made sense at that moment. Though whether this was the case or not was yet to be seen, magic always had an odd way of interacting with the world, what cursed one man wouldn’t necessarily effect one who had been blessed by another's magic; there were books of old that talked about the Gods and how being touched by one meant you were protected by one, much like The Youngest Baratheon was saved time and time again and protect by the Storm God. 

His thoughts hadn’t even come to a complete end when the body exploded in his hands, the force of which send him flying backwards and crashed his body against the thick dark brick walls. Shoulders slammed against them first, followed by his back and head, luckily by this point he was already on his ass and his legs firmly on the ground though he was covered in innards and painted with dark blood; the only redeeming thing about the situation was that he had kept his life, and it wouldn’t take much to wash everything out of his freshly cut off hair. Pain racked through him as he tried to pick himself up from the floor, even though he knew the cells were rather small it still seemed like he was thrown a decent distance and the force of the impact had almost shattered a bone or two. The sounds of Xocylla scattering away into her hidden paths gave him the opportunity to relax while he wiped whatever had landed on his face away with his fingers closed his eyes over once more. “How in Seven Hells am I going to explain this to Rhaelle.”

Rhaelle took her dear sweet time crossing the Traitor’s walk. She even stopped for a moment to make and offhanded comment to one of her men about how so many of the heads upon the spikes were worn and withered and fresh catches would serve as better reminders. It was always good to keep the fear fresh, she said. The comment split her men so that some were directly at her back with their backs to the prisoners and others were directly behind the prisoners so they could snicker and smirk.

“It suddenly smells like shit.” One of the men said.

“Fresh shit.” Said another.

They couldn’t contain their laughter any more after that. The laughter at the expense of the men in shackles only continued to roll until they finally came upon the entrance to the dungeons. Therein, Rhaelle ordered all the Gold Cloaks stripped of their armor and loaded in with the common criminals. Two of her men remained with her and the others gathered the armor of the Gold Cloaks to be returned to their barracks. All but one, the one Greyson spared would be the one to take her to her brother’s cell. Her men were ordered not to speak to anyone, only return the affects then return themselves to their posts at the apartments.

As her men conducted that business of stripping the former cloaks and taking their affects, the Master Jailor rushed to her side offering whatever aid he could. A single word, a name, laced with hate and warning and venom rendered him white as a phantom. Of course the man had known it would be a matter of time before the Lady found her brother’s whereabouts. That stupid Commander had assured it would be days and like a fool he had believed him. Kicking himself, he tried to steer her away as he had done the other men of the Stormlands. Rhaelle was no man. Slowly her demeanour began to change. It melted away, the way water dripped from the top of the head to the feet. Her voice returned to its normal light pitch, the sound of a woman in want. Politely she ushered the man away from the prying eyes and ears of all those gathered about the jails and into his room.

Just beyond the threshold of the door however, with the bodies of big men of the Stormlands blocking the view within, the Master Jailor found his throat constricted, the air in his lungs quickly running out. The woman said nothing as she lifted him from the ground and gave him a good shake with a strength that sent his keys crashing to the floor. Then she flung the man across the room, and retrieved the keys from the floor and left.

“See that he remains here until I return.” Rhaelle said, motioning for one man to follow her deeper into the dungeon and lead the cloak along as well.

The dungeons has seen much renovation under the rule of her cousin, but the most notable of those changes were the appearance of the Black Cells. They had once simply been small stone rooms with windowless wooden doors but they were no longer that. Now the small cells were covered like tombs with walls of stone giving the appearance that whomever was inside would forever remain there. Alexander had brought in an architect with mad ideas who lived the shadows of old Valyria to create this look. The entombing was not just a simple wall of stone. In fact they were moving doors with locks and peep holes. One simply needed to be aware of the false stones in the wall in order to find these things.

“Which one.” Rhaelle demanded, her gaze following shackled hands as they pointed to the end of the hall where tombed Black Cells ended and the Shadow Cells began. A new fury roared to life in her. Her baby brother was in the last cell a hair away from being put upon the slab to which Rhaelle had knowingly sent a septa days before to die for upsetting her child. She would have blood for this.

Moving toward the cell, Rhaelle’s fingers dance along the side for a moment before a brick sprang slowly lose to reveal a keyhole. Once the door was unlocked, the great stone wall began to disappear to the side leaving only a darkened archway. The smell of something putrid and long since dead assaulted them with such ferocity that her man put his hand before his nose and cloak tried to hide his face in his shoulder. If ever there was a worry that her brother’s body might have been the cause of that smell, Rhaelle would never let on. “Azaroth.” It was a command. If she had any inclination that he was dead within it was a demand that he rise and give her the name of his accuser, anything less and the entire palace would burn.

Xocylla melted her hand against the pages to her Book of Shadows. Her shoulders shook in disbelief of how such things actually could happen? Seemed she could feel finding the light within this curse of darkness that fell upon her. Maybe she wasn’t as doomed as she was destined to be. One could of hoped anyway. As her hand moved down the page writing began to form written in her own blood. It was without a doubt that Xocylla knew the young Lord Azaroth one could hope he remembered her as well. She even failed by speaking to him directly. He could easily recognise her voice. They grew up with each other after all. Such a occurrence could make. King Alexander very displeased with her. He was the only relationship she should care upon. It was his desire that he be the only one to grasp everything of her. In exchange she never held onto her past relationships with her kind friends. She slammed her book shut running her fingers across the front cover as she shuttered. “Don’t feel. Don’t remember. Forget it ever happened. There is no turning back. Foolish girl.” The twisted thoughts emerged across her mind as she tried to push the feeling away.

Memories of her childhood flooded her mind causing her to place down her book holding tightly to her scalp. The pounding flashbacks beat to the sound of her heartbeat. Why all sudden now was she feeling and having such precious memories. One would think she drained such precious memories away but yet a single flame burned of light within her. Something she began to fear knowing the wrath of her King’s possession will slaughter it. “I have to know. I have to know he’s alright. I have to see for myself.” She rejected the voices in her mind shaking her head back and forth whisking them away with every motion. Spinning around on her heels she made her way back to the cell in which she abandoned Azaroth. She sprinted down the main cell halls as she didn’t even bother to hide like a coward in her tunnels. Come to find this time he was not alone. She shielded herself on the outskirts of the shadow from the flames in which the guards carried. She wouldn’t place a step within the light. The one individual dawned on her, Lady Rhaelle Baratheon. The last time she saw Rhaelle was back in Storm’s End. When she was nothing but a mere child. Her gaze followed the direction of the bodies to the cell which held Azaroth. She stared at the body in the cell awaiting for any sign of movement. Worry began to flood her body. Such a feeling she never felt in so long. She clutched her fists tightly into a ball as it only confused her more. For someone who has been so long of being without emotion. She buried her head in the hood of her cloak as she patiently waited in the shadows.

The smell didn’t bother her as much as it did to the others. In grace of the presence of herself Lady Rhaelle. Xocylla gratefully tossed her hand across her body making the scent vanish bit by bit. Clearing the air with every swing of her wrist. She contemplated rather or not she could make her presence known. The tension in Lady Rhaelle’s voice the moment she called Azaroth by his name. She knew now wasn’t the best time.

It took a few moments and the men at her back were starting to turn green with the continual wafting of the foul smell, before her brother finally started to move. His rousing was a soft shuffle and haggered breathing that caused her man to tense. It seemed both he and the former gold cloak expected some sort of creature to emerge from the cell rather than a tall, bile covered Baratheon boy. At first sight, covered in bile and blood and body parts, Azaroth did look like a creature. To see him covered in muck, stripped down to only his skivvies with the cold unforgiving draft of the cell following close behind him, Rhaelle’s jaw began to tick. Then Azaroth tried to lighten the mood with some stupid joke. Rhaelle didn’t respond which left the two men at her back at odds with how to respond, so they said nothing.

Her brother was wild. No matter how he tried to reform himself, not matter his years in the Reach playing tea parties and dress up with little flowers, he was a Baratheon. People were either exceptionally loyal to you or hated you until their last breath. There were an equal number of men on either side of that fence. It could not be helped when your family, your region built their livelihood on the backs of blood and war. So in a way, Rhaelle could understand a motive to degrade and embarrass a high born who you believed wronged you in some way with what little power you had but she could not forgive actions that would have started a war between bloods if she had not started one already. Beyond all of that, this was her brother, a child she’d reared as though he’d been from her own womb in his younger years. Many a man, woman and perhaps even children met a ghastly fate in these cells under the rule of her mad cousin. Many of those people had not deserved such a fate and her brother was no exception.

The beast inside the Lady Baratheon roared with demand to be sated; and sated it would be. Whirling around, Rhaelle took the former gold cloak by the face before he could react. All there was of him was a muffled cry or plead as her long fingers palmed his face, gripping from scalp to ears. The hallways between cells were short. It took Rhaelle only two steps and the flex of her muscle to hoist the man off the floor and slam the back of his head into the cold brick wall that masked another cell door. In doing so, the woman let out a vicious roar of frustration, reared back and slammed him again. Once. Twice. Rhaelle reared back for a third strike but stopped mere inches from the wall and allowed the dazed body of the man to fall. “Take him to the maester. When he awakes inform him he is now free of his duties. Pay him to this quarter and send him on his way. Remind him that my mercy has limits.” If he were wise, he’d pack what little belongings he had and start a new life far from Westeros.

In the midst of all of this, it had not gone unnoticed by Rhaelle of the unnatural way the stench about her brother was starting to drift away, but she waited until her man had given her his torch and picked up the other making nearly completely back down the hallway before she turned to her brother’s cell once more and said, ”Come out now, Xocylla. You cannot stay here any longer.”

Xocylla Xaq was a creature of her creation. Despite what Alexander believed, it had been Rhaelle's idea to send Xocylla into his employ to keep his attention where she wanted it. It had worked, perhaps too well. Xocylla had once been young and beautiful and bright just like her sister Xara. She was considerably a bit more awkward given her natural gifts but nevertheless she had been an invaluable asset to Rhaelle's cause. Whatever Alexander had steered her to become Rhaelle couldn't allow to be the downfall of the girl come the new regime. It was time to return Xocylla to her sister, perhaps to her home and remove any all evidence of the depravities she'd suffered at the hands of Alexander.

Like a serpent, Xocylla’s eyes fixated on the lifeless body in the cell. She’d praise herself on her masterpiece that this body was covered in drench in the remains of blood, guts, and god knows what else. If it were any other prisoner there wouldn’t be a body to investigate. Such twisted habits have plagued those black cells by her single hand alone. Not once did she feel remorse or mercy for the poor fools. Unlike this certain matter of the young lord Azaroth Baratheon. She was overwhelmed with guilt. Out of fear and surprise she just tossed the once creature on Azaroth to explode it could've killed him and now she was regretting everything? Such emotions annoyed her. "What has come over me?" What has the Summer Witch become? The Baratheon not only began to move but he also began to speak. Such a relief overcame the witch as she lowered her shoulders.

Before her very eyes, Rhaelle once again put the idiotic saying; ‘men rule the world’ to shame as she slammed her grasp into the guard behind her out of frustration. Slamming the body repeatedly into the wall in a marvelous fashion. This was absolutely no laughing matter but the woman hidden in the shadows hissed away in chuckles at the men. They should consider themselves lucky upon the Lady Baratheon’s mercy. If it were by her hands Xocylla wouldn’t hesitate to murder them without second thought. On the other hand would she? It’s one thing to have the King order a death sentence but what if she solely had the choice? She shook her head as she continued to admire the strength and willpower of Rhaelle had. There has been numerous times she was envious of the untouchable Rhaelle Baratheon. If only she was half the woman as Rhaelle. Imagine what she could possibly achieve. Dawning on the poor fool sliding down the wall. Her lips curled in a faint crooked smile watching Rhaelle in admiration. The Baratheon children of Storm's End were all unique but it was no secret she respected Lady Rhaelle Baratheon the most

By the sound of it. Rhaelle already knew of Xocylla’s presence. Calling out her name as if she knew she was there the whole time. Xocylla bit her tongue and like a hound being called from it’s name her ears perked up her head. She revealed herself slowly stepping into the radiating light the torch gave off. The bright wicked long blond hair dangled over the sorceress face as her shoulders lowered in a bow to Lady Rhaelle Baratheon. “Lady Rhaelle Baratheon. It’s good--to see you” She stumbled upon her words as she wasn’t use to speaking with anyone but King Alexander. With his majesty, he was the one who did majority of the talking. She never was allowed to speak freely or out of turn. Lifting her head after greeting, her amber yellow eyes glistened by the flames’ reflection as she met Rhaelle’s eyes. “I have stayed all this time. He won’t let me go and what I saw of my sister..” Her voice fell as she reminded herself of her vision she had as she hung her head. Last she remembered she saw her sister coated with blood. She never saw how the vision ended. Confused of Lady Rhaelle’s wishes she lifted her chin to peer over Lady Rhaelle’s shoulder still in concern of Lord Azaroth Baratheon.

Her brother moving up to her side caused her nose to crinkle slightly, the smell wafting from him becoming much stronger now. As a reward, she slapped the torch into his chest and regarded Xocylla. “Your time with Alexander has come to an end. For the next few days you will remain with your sister in her chambers then you will be presented to the usurper and his wife. It time for you to leave all of this behind. Make no mistake, Xocylla Xaq, you have done well. You served welled and I would see you rewarded for all that you have sacrificed.”

Rhaelle was well aware of all that Xocylla had done and been coaxed to do by her mad cousin. Her role in the takeover was vital. Alexander’s instant obsession with her had allowed the girl to steer his interests toward random smallfolk and whatever “experiments” they conducted down here. It gave Rhaelle nearly free reign to travel from region to region in her pursuit of loyal ties. Turning his attentions on Xocylla also eased the tensions of his forced unrest in certain regions. So her role in the Red Keep was not to be taken lightly. Though Rhaelle was aware of many of the deeds that Xocylla was required to perform in order to keep Alexander’s attention, she was also painstakingly aware that their connection was all but unknown. Rhaelle had stayed clear of Xocylla for years and ordered her sister to do the same.

Alexander was a suspicious creature and he absolutely hated Rhaelle, but more over he hated when she touched his “things”. Even if she hadn’t already decided to separate herself from Xocylla for her own safety, Alexander had forbade her leaving any sort of influence over his new favorite thing anyway. It all served to keep his attention and steer it wherever Rhaelle needed it to be but all of that aside, Xocylla’s part to be played was not to known and therefore it would be hard to defend her transgressions and prove her loyalties. Her cousin was going to have to truly trust her judgment when it came to Xocylla and not only her power but her loyalty in turn. That is why her words were steady and unquestionable. There was no room for error in her next moves and Xocylla needed to comply completely in order to survive the changing tides.

Turning Rhaelle made her way back to the main portion of the dungeons, leaving her brother and Xocylla to share their words. She locked the Master Jailor in his chambers, with instructions that one of the men should feed him over the course of the next few days and took her remaining men with her. Though the former gold cloaks begged her mercy as she passed, Rhaelle did not give them so much as a glance.

They made their way all the way back to Azaroth’s apartments by way of back passages and tunnels so his stench wouldn’t alert all the other nobles to his further humiliation. In his room, Rhaelle ordered his bath prepared and his food brought in. She had the windows opened and the remaining maids fan out the stench. Rhaegar had greeted her at the doors and squealed in both delight and horror to see his new uncle alive and well but stinking to all seven of the high heavens. He stayed beside the bath asking all manner of intruding questions to both him and Xocylla until the doors opened again and he ran to greet Xara, Kainen and Rhaenyrs.