Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada Astoria

A month had passed since she'd thought of the woman imprisoned beneath her home. She'd appointed a new Head Knight, Mikhail had taken freely to visiting North Shore as if that _wasn't_ a strange place for him to be, and the Stafford's had pretty much returned to Stormalong. Eric stopped in for training with Lord Cromwell, but their time together was mostly spent in Knights Landing and few and far between. 

So when Zane caught her on her way to dinner, Amalthea was the last thing on her mind. She followed her spymaster into the depths of the dungeons, and gave him a weary look, though he didn't turn once to regard her. 

She didn't like the feeling she was getting as they moved to the back of the cells. She couldn't feel that annoying itch of Marcus trying to escape. 

When they reached the cell door Zane pulled it open, revealing an Amalthea Victor sitting on the edge of the cot she was provided. She wasn't rocking nor muttering, and Anya didn't trust it. 

"I've been told you've got something to share, Amalthea?" She said, prompted by Zane's nudge.
Justin
Amalthea Victor 
Zahrada Astoria

The month had certainly taken its toll on the near-feral creature that Amalthea was slowly shifting into with each passing hour. Having grown even more gaunt than their prior meeting, she was collapsed helpless upon the cot. The shackles, without any strength to be gained through the direct possession of Marcus, who gave her an inhumane ability to overpower the weight of the chains, secured her arms and legs to the edges of the furnishment. Her back was flat against the wall, her head also erect as she stared emotionless at the gate.

"Yes... We have.." Claimed the human, if one would call her that as her hair, which was pulled fairly neatly behind her head, exposed her face to full view, showing both Zane and Anyanka the extent of the years of containment.

"We... Are here to s... To swear... Al... Allegiance... To Any... Anyanka..." Croaked her raspy voice as she opened her eyes, both of which were voice of much coloration. 

It seemed, at least from the condition and circumstances they found themselves in, that Amalthea had finally broken. Her will. Her dignity. Everything was seemingly gone.
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada Astoria

"We?" She questioned, and clicked her tongue. Zane took his place beside the door, leaning heavily against the frame in anticipation of some reaction from Amalthea. 

She had stopped reacting violently to his presence a while ago, and he cleared his throat. 

"When Marcus first took over, he was able to speak clearly, why has he not been able to take over fully again?" He asked, his voice only mildly curious. 

Anya raised a shoulder in a shrug, and moved towards the cot. Her hand found the woman's chin, tilting her head upwards. 

"I'm not sure. Maybe she wasn't as gone as we had hoped. Or maybe she's spent the last what," She looked over her shoulder at Zane "Seven, eight months?" He confirmed with a nod. "Fighting him. Who knows." Her gaze moved back to her. 

"If you want out you have to cut the crazy, Amal. We're not letting you see the light of day if you can't form coherent sentences. The Amalthea Victor the world knew wasn't this feeble mess."
Justin
Her eyes had shut whilst Anyanka began to drone on and on, having lost much interest in their pondering of what exactly ailed her. Her body was too weak to do nothing but react to whatever was done to her. And so as her chin was held and tilted up to meet her gaze, she could not resist. What was left of her sense told her to open her eyes, and she did so, meeting her former sister's sight. But she did not recognize this woman. Her fragmented mind and the tortures of Zane had left her with few ideas about Anyanka. She knew her as someone of significance, but that was probably the limitation. And if she was in power... She could set her free...

"We..." She corrected herself just as swiftly, "I will try..."
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada dungeons, Astoria

The woman corrected herself and Anya ran her tongue over her teeth. She was still rank, and Anya straightened, offering the woman her hand. 

Sympathy for her was long gone, but pity still lingered. "Harmattan, find Lord Cromwell. Ask him to attend to the bath house. I want no one to enter the perimeter until we're through. You're to lead the guard externally, he'll lead internally with me."

Zane raised a brow. "Wouldn't it be better if I took internal?" He asked. 

"Considering the prisoner, no. You've had enough time with her." It wasn't supposed to be an insult, but she waited for Amalthea to take or reject her hand. 

"Wouldn't you like a bath, Amal?"
Justin
Amalthea Victor
Zahrada Dungeons, Astoria

A bath... The frail woman could almost be heard releasing the faintest moan upon the hearing the word. But this likely could not have been detected due to the sheer raspiness of her throat. She didn't have too many memories to be put back together, however she still had enough sense to know both what a bath was and meant for her. She then managed to notice the hand that was offered and extended for her to take. The iron shackles that held her in place, however, kept her arms in place. Even with her most vigorous efforts, all she could do was rattle the chain, if that. Her body was fatigued and so malnourished that her body had begone the dangerous resort of actually consuming herself for energy. And so the only thing she could do was with her words, which she was hardly able to get out:

"Y-....Yes... P...Please.."
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada dungeons, Astoria

The Queen had forgotten about the chains that held her, and the rattle reminded her. She turned, her open palm now before Zane. He hesitated, and she gave a scoff, stepping forward. Her fingers moved into his pocket, her eyes locked on his with annoyance as she fished out the keys for the shackles. 

"Quit doubting me, Zane. If you had been like this all those years ago she would have had _me_ in chains." She muttered, though she knew it was a lie. Amalthea had every intention of killing her too, she'd never have been held. They all thought it was foolish Anya had saved a cell for the murderer too. 

She unfastened the chains from the wall, leaving her bound at the wrists for the time being. Once she's been transported she'd undo them fully, after Zane was Stationed outside. 

"Carry her, I doubt she can walk." Anya added, palming the keys while Zane moved towards Amalthea to lift her fragile body from the cot.
Justin
Amalthea Victor 
Zahrada Dungeons, Astoria

They were gone. Month after month of those accursed bracelets had done their job; her flesh where they once hung was rubbed raw, some pieces of her flesh removed down to the very bone.

Her hands began to tremble along with her knee caps, which were now able to at least shift with her body. But with them gone, she now had nothing to keep her body propped in the cot. However, she had not the strength to keep herself upright, causing her form to drift forward and forward and forward... Until only the arms of Zane saved her from collapse, which likely would've only led to further bodily damage. However, her body would've been far lighter than any woman her age should've been. She was a living skeleton with a layer of skin covering over her form. 

With a weak, timid cry of pain as his hands took hold of her, she began to whine lightly as she was recieved to be carried.
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada dungeons, Astoria

"Don't hurt her." Anya winced instinctively as Amal whined, and Zane brows knit together. 

"Are you _fucking serious?_" He questioned, but shifted his hold on the woman to cradle her. It felt stupid, all things considered, but he followed orders. Even if this was the woman he would have killed on the docks if it had been up to him. 

Actually, that's a lie, he would have killed her after that first month of being her personal slave. But then he wouldn't have Robyn, so it was complicated. 

He carried her to the bath house, Anya staying close but leading the way. Four officers from the Underground moved with them, keeping close to take their positions around the structure. 

The bathhouse was an homage to the ones in Kath, luxurious and inviting, with fires lit beneath the marbles to keep the floors warm and the waters hot. It wasn't near the standards of Amorothian houses, but it was nice enough. 

Anya stepped inside, assuring no one was occupying the building, and then gestured for Amalthea to be brought in. 

"Find Cromwell." She told Zane simply, watching as he set the woman on a plush stool a few feet from the edge of the bath. 

Anya looked over Amalthea, even more pathetic in the warm glow of torches that made her look like a corpse. "Do you need help standing?"
Justin
Amalthea Victor 
Zahrada Bath Houses, Astoria

The woman had felt something that she had not experienced in a long time: heat. But not the simple shift in temperature due to another body or a shift in the temperature of the rocks she once slept on. No. This was heat. True, comforting, body-longing heat. Her body would go even more limp in Zane's arms before he was ordered to set her down. 

Her eyes, though they prefer to remain closed and rest; her eyes could hardly stay open for a few moments before needing to relax. But this body feature was not only what became evident by her removal from the dungeons. Her skin. Anyone who could look at her could tell that she was far from even being considered pathetic. She was monstrous in appearance. Her flesh was pasty. Dirty. Bloody. Puss-covered.

What sockets she had left turned to face Anya, who she stared at. But it was not with hate. With resentment. It was a look of desire. Maybe not the desire that lovers would crave; more on the lines of the desire for help.

"I... Can't m... Move.." She revealed. Her legs were more or less twigs that dangled from her waist.
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada, Astoria

The redhead nodded, moving her hair from behind her to over her shoulder as she moved to Amalthea. Her arm slipped around her waist, hoisting her up and draping her arm over Anya's shoulders. 

It wasn't exactly walking, but there was more dignity in leaning heavily against the Queen as she guided her in a charade of movement than just being carried. There were steps leading down into the waters, and she moved down one, letting the warm waters lap at their toes. 

"Is it too warm?" Anya asked. Her skin was practically paper, and she worried it would burn her sensitive flesh just at the touch. 

Admittedly, she hadn't worried about Amalthea much. She was waiting for the confirmation she was subdued. And when she'd preformed the ritual to place Marcus inside her body, she hadn't looked this awful. She was thin, but not malnourished. It hadn't occurred to her that maybe two spirits in one body would burn it at both ends. The first few days had been find, but she'd walked away fro reports to await Zane's confirmation that they were solely dealing with Marcus and not Amalthea. Anger at how _ruined_ she looked was aimed at Zane. 

How were they supposed to pass this woman off as _the_ Amalthea Victor?
Justin
Amalthea Victor 
Zahrada, Astoria

Her breathing was shallow, her chest hardly rising nor falling as she was still donned in what scraps that remained of her clothing. She watched Anya approach her, causing her eyes to close as she prepared herself to be grabbed yet again. Upon being recieved by the much fresher woman, she gasped a bit, her body tensing as she was lifted and brought about.

As she was finally allowed to experience the water, her breathing quickened if only for a second. She could feel the source of heat growing warmer, and warmer. Her head, one of the only points of her body where she could move, tilted so that one of her eyes could get a look at the one whom she held so closely to her heart. Time, however, had proven her memories were more than faded. 

But if there was any question about whether or not Marcus was at this point in control, perhaps it would be revealed by what she spoke before being led into the water as she stared at Anya:

"S-S... Sister.." Her throat managed to croak out softly, "Thank... You.." 

As she felt Anya enter the water, she looked downwards, her eyes closing. But Anya's suspicion that the water mag have proven too hot was confirmed as her body tensed up followed by a groan, "Hot... H-Hot.."
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada Bath Houses, Astoria

"Okay, alright, alright." Anya's voice was soft and coaxing as she moved to take a step back. The main pool was warmed, as were the others so she didn't have much of a choice to help with the temperature. Instead, she guided Amalthea to a seat where she stood, assuring only her feet remained in the inch or so of water on the step. 

Anya moved a few down, her dress growing heavy with the weight of the water that seeped up into the fabric of it. She didn't kind, but it made things a bit inconvenient. With Amalthea sitting, she cupped some water into her palm, and let the droplets pour over the woman's calf, gauging her reaction. 

"We'll build to it, it takes a while to get used to it." She explained, her free hand on Amal 's shoulder to hell steady her. Dirt, puss, and dried blood didn't move much from the small droplets, but she could tell where the water rolled down towards her toes. It discolored the water on the step, and Anya wondered just how thick the debris was on her skin.
Justin
Amalthea Victor 
Zahrada, Astoria 

Her body was at near-complete ease; it had been months, if not years since her body has ever been granted such care and attention, especially attention involved with bathing. Her hand managed to take a hold of your arm for a moment before being forced to release. 

As she lay there, relaxing in Anya's lap, she felt the water having been cupped poured upon her leg. She tensed up immediately, but it was far more manageable and so she did not jump nor jolt as they warmth landed upon her flesh. But there was more than that dripping off of her body; a lone tear twinkled down the side of her cheek, falling from her chin and onto the side of Anya's sleeve.

"Anya... I'm so tired..." She spoke. Soon, the lone tear doubled to two... Then four... Then a stream. Her tired body could only move a bit as she sobbed, doing her best to clutch onto the only one she seemed to have left. It was clear that her brain was void from the memory of the assassination and who had put Zane up to his torture.
Joseph
Anyanka Durkhan
Zahrada Bath Houses, Astoria

Anya didn't comment as the brunette started to sob. She didn't know what to say, surprised at how conflicted she felt about all of this. It would have been easier to have her killed, but Robyn wouldn't have stood a chance without his mother to force him into place on the Vincentien throne. 

She was doing it for him, not the woman who called her sister. Zane must have been cruel to make that bit stick with her. 

"It's okay, you'll get to sleep when we're done. We just don't want you to ruin your sheets, it would be a shame." She said simply, continuing the motion of pouring water over broken and damaged skin. 

She shifted a bit, and extended Amal's leg carefully into the water, allowing her the time to grow used to its warmth before she started to rub her thumb in a small circle over a patch of skin, clearing it up. 

"See, your not a monster beneath it all. We'll wash Zane away and you'll feel better, Hm?"