Third Day (1 of 5)
Breaking the Breaker: Damion and Mulsae cling to each other as palace control grows tighter
'Breaking the Breaker' Content Warning: Erotic Horror
Story contains graphic depictions of violence, non-consensual sex, psychological manipulation, power imbalance, humiliation, dehumanization, and other dark, disturbing themes.
This story invites reflection on what happens to the mind under sustained horror, how identity reshapes itself around trauma, and what traces of agency persist when autonomy has been stripped away.
Proceed with extreme caution.
28th day of the 2nd moon
1113 HC
Mulsae kept holding Damion's hand throughout the night, so Damion wakes up with his hand in Mulsae's. No windows. No sun to indicate the time. He has no idea if he’s woken too early or too late or just on time. Perhaps he’ll ask other people how they’re coping with this.
He decides to stay in bed and make his hand available to Mulsae to hold. He stares at the little nooks and crannies of the ceiling. What Zudaeshi is doing to Mulsae is awful, but is this perhaps his penance?
He’s still angry at how Mulsae treated him when he was first a prisoner. He hasn’t forgiven. He hasn’t forgotten. He’s just moved on. His priority is Right Now and the future. Mulsae has been taking care of him in the way that he needs right now. He has freedom of choice again, and isn’t that what is most important?
Mulsae squeezes Damion’s hand and scooches over to him. He wraps his arm and leg around him and rests his head on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Mulsae whispers.
“For what?”
“For being here. I don’t know what I’d do alone. If I had to face her bed alone.”
Damion caresses Mulsae’s arm as his only response.
"You can’t fix it," Mulsae breathes. "But you make it… easier. To carry."
"I’m glad I help at all," Damion murmurs.
Mulsae’s voice cracks. "Thank you for fighting me. For staying. I’m sorry for all the ways I pushed you off. I don’t… I don’t deserve you. I should be the one protecting you... But to respect what you’re offering me, I’ll accept. And I’ll try my best to earn it.”
Damion brushes his lips against Mulsae’s hair. “Thanks."
They stay still and quiet in the silence of the windowless, timeless room. It could be any hour, or no hour at all. A moment stolen out of time. A stolen moment of temporary calm.
Damion stirs first, “I should make sure I wash before we get called somewhere.” Mulsae lets him go and flops onto his back staring at the ceiling.
Damion goes into the bathing chamber and does his thing: hole, plug, body, hair. He towels himself off and returns. Mulsae hasn’t budged. He’s lost in the marbling textures of the ceiling.
Damion crawls back into bed, holds Mulsae’s hand, and stares up into the ceiling, too. There’s nothing to say. They’ve experienced these horrors together. They know what the other is feeling because they are feeling it, too. They stare at the ceiling together. Damion squeezes Mulsae’s hand. Mulsae squeezes back.
There is a knock on the door and it partially opens. A voice calls in, “Breakfast is served in the Harmonarch's Overlook Pavilion.” Then the door snicks shut.
They turn to face each other. Free access to food. Fuck. Yes. They both bolt out of bed and pull on their pants.
They go out into the corridor. It feels wrong to be walking unescorted. But they aren’t locked in their chamber anymore. They carefully make their way to the Overlook Pavilion. Mulsae leads the way since he was familiar with the palace before Zudaeshi occupied it. They notice some passages have guards blocking the way. Perhaps they haven’t been let out of their cage, but rather their cage has gotten larger.
They reach the Overlook Pavilion. Air, fresh air, blows against Damion’s face, cool and alive. He breathes deep, drinking it in. Morning light floods his eyes until they adjust, revealing long oval tables laid with platters of food and decanters of wine. A few tall round tables stand scattered around the center, places for people to linger or retreat. Overhead, a trellis draped in green vines lets in dappled light and drifting shadows. Along the edge, double-sided benches face both inward toward the gathering and outward toward the balcony. Beyond the railing, Harmony Mountain drops away in sheer ridges and pale mist. Below the cliffs, below the clouds, the Marsh Sanctum stretches out. It's so close it looks touchable, yet so far it might as well be another world.
A handful of ‘guests’ are already here picking at the food and putting it onto small plates. Damion and Mulsae are ravenous. Zudaeshi barely fed them yesterday. She’s trying to mimic Mulsae, but doesn’t know or doesn’t care about the responsibilities surrounding what he does as a pet master.
They dig into the food and eat quickly just in case Zudaeshi pops in and tears them away. Then they eat some more just in case they’re starved another day again.
Garrick strolls up to them, “You two appear hungry.”
Mulsae lets the mask drop into smooth neutrality and gives no reply.
“What’s with your outfits?” They’re both topless with nipple rings, shoeless, and wearing only pants.
Deryn appears, “Garrick, leave them alone. She is giving them a hard time.”
Garrick rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Oh sure, a little kneeling is such a hard time. I had to dance with that cold witch for hours last night. Then she tried to get me into her bed,” he laughs, “Can you imagine the torture that would be?”
“Garrick, don’t speak about what you don’t know of,” presses Deryn.
Garrick waves a hand dismissively and walks off.
“What is your angle, Deryn,” Mulsae asks suspiciously, “That’s twice now you’ve defended us.”
“I need your cunning. We all will need your cunning to get out of this,” Deryn faces him squarely, “She’s going to try to wear you down and break you. We can’t afford that. You need support in order to keep yourself together.”
Mulsae narrows his eyes at him, “You hate me.”
Deryn stifles a laugh, “I fucking despise you, Mulsae. You are an evil bastard. But I don’t let my personal opinions affect my total evaluation of you. You’re smart, you’re cunning, you’re resourceful. We have the same exact goals: defeat her. We’re allies whether I like you or not.”
Mulsae dons his mask of neutrality, “I see.”
Deryn nods and walks off.
“Garrick is such a mindless brute,” hisses Damion quietly to Mulsae. He just nods in response.
Suddenly a voice penetrates the air, “Sanctum Masters, steward, approach.” It's Zudaeshi. They look around to find her, and then look up. There she is on a terrace overlooking the pavilion. She's wearing a simple black robe that fits her curves.
The called upon people put down their plates and approach the terrace. They stand in a line. Mulsae joins the line, but Damion stays back by the food.
“You are free to leave with your retinue. Your first tithe is due in two days. I expect you to return to present your tithe that afternoon.
“Mulsae is remaining as my consultant, so Steward Saeroth is taking his place in the Water Sanctum. Master Dalenna has no transportation, so she shall send a letter for her people to bring a tithe. The Flame siblings are remaining as my guests, as well as their mother and her partner, Brayl.
“Do you have any questions?” she casts her gaze across them.
Halion clears his throat, “How much is the requested tithe?”
A smile snakes across Zudaeshi’s face, “As much as you can spare. I expect you to be honest with me. If you aren’t, I will extract your dues straight from your towns and villages with force. Do you all understand?” They all nod solemnly.
Zudaeshi waves a hand, “You may go. Return in two days.” She turns and exits the terrace.
The Sanctum Masters disperse. They collect the members of their retinue and leave the pavilion. The ones remaining are Damion, Mulsae, Ground Master Dalenna, Serelinne, Brayl, and the Flame siblings. They all eye each other cautiously.
Brayl breaks the silence, “Please, let’s speak to each other,” he gestures for them to join he and Serelinne.
They come together in a group. Mulsae happens to walk up behind Dalenna, and Dalenna promptly resituates herself to be further from him.
Brayl looks each of them in the eye, “We have the same enemy. We’re allies. We need to work together.”
Mulsae’s eyes sweep the room. “This is a treasonous conversation against the Harmonarch,” Mulsae says coolly. Everyone is quiet. He continues, “Caution is advisable,” then turns and walks back into the palace while Damion follows.
Mulsae leads them down corridors, walking like he owns the place, but not in the direction Damion would have thought was towards their chamber. At some points he even doubles back. They pass guards blocking passageways and Mulsae nods respectfully to each one of them as he passes.
Eventually Mulsae starts brazenly opening doors and looking inside. Now Damion gets it: Mulsae is exploring. He finds empty rooms. Empty bed chambers that are just as devoid of supplies or clothing as their own. Sparsely furnished offices. All with thick layers of dust.
Eventually, they find a jackpot. It is a large room filled with books. Damion practically drools. All four walls are filled floor to ceiling with books and there are two additional bookcases on one side of the room, and two chairs and a table on the other side. Mulsae and Damion grin at each other then dash into the room hungrily looking over the books.
They each take time scanning the bookshelves, drinking in the options and figuring out the sorting system. Then they start picking books off the shelves and flipping through them. They occasionally keep a book in their arms. Damion is looking for fiction and history. He finds two of each that seem interesting.
Damion finds Mulsae with four books stacked on the small table and reading a fifth book. “Gods, we don’t have to be so bored any more,” Damion says, relieved.
Mulsae nods in understanding. “Let’s head back to our chamber. Unfortunately, we need to make ourselves available to be found. We could anger her if there’s a delay after summoning.”
Damion sighs and nods. They head out and Mulsae appears to be getting a handle on mapping the place out because he effortlessly leads them back to their chamber.
Mulsae plops his books on the table then takes one out and opens it to read. Damion plops his books on the chest of drawers and sits in front of the fire to read. He doesn’t have to sit in front of the fire any more. It isn’t his ‘place’ right now. But he has fond memories of reading for hours in front of the fire and wants to hold onto that sense of comfort the memories bring him.
They have quite some time to read before there is a knock on the door. It opens and a servant stands in the threshold and says, "You have been summoned."
Mulsae and Damion exchange a look before standing and following the servant to where they've been summoned. They're lead through hallways that are growing increasingly familiar. Damion can guess where they're going: Zudaeshi's suite. Fuck. She's going to fuck with us more. Literally.
They enter the suite and are lead straight to her bed chamber. Fuck.
The servant opens the bed chamber door and ushers them inside. Zudaeshi is sitting at her vanity brushing her hair. She stands and greets them with a wide smile. The escort closes the door. Closes them in. Fuck.
"My pets," she coos and runs her nails across each of their faces.
She gets right up into Mulsae's space. She runs a possessive hand across his chest as she speaks, "I have quite enjoyed having you as my pet," she tugs a nipple ring, "but even a Harmonarch can't eat her cake and have it, too," she pouts as she tugs the other nipple ring.
She sighs dramatically then runs her nails down the side of his face, "I need you as my Council Consultant. And my Council Consultant can't appear like this," she runs her hand down his chest to the waistband of his pants, "as much as I like you like this." Bare chested displaying nipple rings, and wearing only pants.
She abruptly turns and walks away, "So I've had your wardrobe fetched from Drenvaar. It's being delivered to your room as we speak," she picks up a pile of black folded clothing, "I picked these for you for today," she places them on the bed next to Mulsae.
"However, I don't want you to forget who you belong to, my pet."
"I'll never forget I belong to you, Your Radiance," Mulsae purrs.
She grabs his chin, "Such pretty words from such a pretty mouth," she pulls down his bottom lip and he opens his mouth. She sticks in two fingers and he can't help but gag when her long nails go too far back. She brings her fingers back out and wipes them off on his chest.
She walks to her vanity and picks up a necklace with a modestly sized metal medallion as the pendant. She saunters over to Mulsae and hooks one side of the chain to one nipple ring, and attaches the other side to the other ring. Then she drops the apparently quite heavy medallion. As stoic as he tries to keep himself, Mulsae gasps and bends over a bit from the shock.
She shifts the medallion left and right, then tugs which causes Mulsae to flinch, "I think this will keep me on your mind."
"You're always on my mind, Your Radiance," he smiles seductively and dares to run a caress down her arm.
She hums in satisfaction, "Such pretty words," she gestures to the clothes, "Put your clothes on."
She turns to Damion. His heart races. "Now for your outfit," she smiles.
She picks up a black leather square with two straps with buckles. Damion is crestfallen. Mulsae rarely ever binds his arms anymore. Damion anticipates her and folds his arms behind his back and turns his back to her.
"Oh my! He is a good boy, isn't he?" she exclaims happily. She snakes the restraint around his arms and tightens the buckles. Too tight. Damion wiggles his fingers. Fuck. What do I do? Godsdamnit. Think think! Do I risk pissing her off? Do I risk nerve damage or worse? Fuck fuck fuck.
Damion swallows, "Excuse me," he says bashfully.
She moves around Damion to face his front, "Yes, Damion dear?"
"The restraint... It's too tight," he says timidly.
She hums contentedly, "All the better, my pet," she smiles wickedly.
"Your Radiance," Mulsae chimes in, "He could suffer nerve damage if the restraint is too tight."
She frowns, "Why should I care?"
"If he has nerve damage he wouldn't be able to provide full... service," Mulsae advises.
Zudaeshi hums as she ponders. She sighs dramatically. She returns to Damion's back and loosens the binding.
"Is that okay?" she says angrily. Damion wiggles his fingers. It should work. "Yes, it's good. Thank you," Damion says meekly.
"Come sit at the vanity, Damion dear." She ushers him to sit.
She runs her nails through his long hair, then brushes and styles his hair with her nails. She grabs a stick of kohl and moves in front of him. She carefully applies the kohl under Damion's eyes.
Zudaeshi turns back to Mulsae who has dressed in a black tunic, black pants, and black socks. She picks up a pair of shiny black shoes and hands them to him.
As Mulsae puts on the shoes she asks, "Whatever did you do to get Damion to cry that time when I saw you in Drenvaar."
Mulsae is quiet a moment longer than he should have been before saying, "I choked him on my cock."
"Oh really!" her eyes glitter with delight, "Well, I want Damion dear to cry."
Fuck. Damion's heart jumps into his throat.
Mulsae stands and runs a gentle hand down Zudaeshi's arm, "I would do anything for you, Your Radiance. But it's prohibited by The Agreement we have."
Continue reading: Third Day (2 of 5)
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