Page 32 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

Dalia

Itug a new shirt over my body just as a knock comes on the bedroom door. It opens to reveal a dark elf soldier, dressed in light armor.

“...Yes?” I ask, raising a brow.

He carries himself with a deadpan expression and barely looks at me as he speaks.

“General Etheron calls for your presence.”

“Where?”

Silence. He stands there, staring blankly. No one respects me around here, not the servants or the soldiers. He can’t even answer my damn question.

My arms drop to my sides. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

The soldier turns around brusquely and heads for the door. I follow him. With each step, I feel as if there are needles poking my feet. I need a break. I want to lay down, take a nap, and forget the unfortunate circumstances of my life, but these dark elves have different plans for me.

We walk towards the other side of the mansion and I notice that the hallways are noticeably quiet. Usually, there are servants bustling through the corridors, carrying linens or cleaning supplies. Sometimes, they stick their heads from underneath doorways to see the commotion and gossip about it amongst themselves.

Right now, there’s nothing. I don’t know whether to feel apprehensive about that or not, but it’s unusual. I keep my questions to myself because the soldier hardly looks at me, so I doubt he’ll answer any questions I fling at him.

Suddenly, the lights dim low as we enter a spacious room where the sound echoes. I hear chains clashing and soft whimpers. Behind me, the soldier gently closes the door we came through.

“Go on,” he whispers, leaning down so that he’s eye-level with me and gesturing towards the middle of the room. “The General will address you shortly.”

“What’s going on?”

He shakes his head and straightens upright. I swallow thickly and make the small steps towards the center. A small crowd encircles the spectacle in the center, so I don’t realize what they’re staring at until I push my way through.

Multiple dark elves are on their knees with their foreheads hovering above the ground. Their hands and ankles are shackled together. Fresh, open wounds cut down their arms and backs, as if someone whipped them prior. Tears stain the floor, with some of them trembling as their bodies wrack with sobs.

One of them lifts their head and I recognize him. He’s the one who held a burning hot piece of iron against my skin for talking back!

It starts clicking. Each one of the dark elves kneeling on the ground abused me in some shape or form. On the farthest end away from me, the dark elf who serves as Etheron’s butler lays unconscious on the floor. He’s the worst looking of all of them and he might already be dead.

Suddenly, every pair of eyes in the room lands upon me. I freeze in my spot, wringing my hands. I don’t know what to do.

“Now, we can finally begin.”

That’s Etheron’s voice. He appears by my side, planting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes gently, which sends a shiver down my spine. Leaning down, he rests his chin on my shoulder and whispers just outside my ear.

“Do you recognize these servants?”

“...Yes, I do.”

“What did they do to you?” Etheron trails his hand across my arm. “They’re the ones who gave you these marks on your skin. Is that right?”

I nod, biting at my bottom lip until I’m tearing the skin off with my teeth.

“They had no right to treat you that way. I never gave Meru the order to make you complete manual labor. They took advantage of you and that wasn’t right. I own you.” Etheron’s hand rests on my hip. He squeezes. “And you’re mine.”

My fists clench. I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not his.

“...That’s not true,” I whisper softly, just loud enough for him to catch.

“Hm?” He tilts his head against mine. “What was that?”

“No one owns me.”

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