Makings of a Monster

WARNING: Contains a description of a beating with a horsewhip, which may be distressing to a sensitive reader.

Sarevok and Jelena were arranging glassware into the kitchen cupboard. Sarevok had lived in his new home for a few weeks now, and usually lingered in the kitchen after the breakfast, reluctant to leave the warm atmosphere. He liked to watch Jelena go about her domestic chores, her hands working on their own like she didn't need to think of what she was doing. He usually helped her with some things, and now he was handing her the newly washed glasses as she stood on the ladder and put them into the cupboard.

Jelena was telling him stories about dwarves and elves. He had seen some during his travels, but never talked with them. Jelena hadn't met many either, but, as she told Sarevok, her grandmother, now long dead, had told her about them. Jelena had been a lonely girl, and while she practiced wifely duties the grandmother kept her company and fed her imagination. Now she was telling a silly story of a little dwarven child who was lost in the forest, and met a little elven child there. It was a light-hearted story where they became friends and overcame their differences. Sarevok knew it wasn't really like that at all, but all the same he giggled, happy to see Jelena's face glow all animated, the overbearing sadness momentarily gone.

As they fooled around and laughed he momentarily forgot what he was doing, and his hand jerked. The crystal glass bounced onto the floor and shattered.
- "Oh no!" Jelena yelped and leaped off the ladder, hurrying to sweep the shards away. Too late. The thundering boom of agitated footsteps approached and Reiltar threw the door open.
- "What in the name of the Nine Hells is going on here!?!" his eyes darted into the broken glass, then his voice lowered into a hiss.
- "Do not tell me that is a piece of my finest Calimshite crystal."
The tears welled in Jelena's eyes.
- "I... I'm so sorry, Reiltar. We were talking and I got clumsy and..."
- "NO! It was me who dropped the glass!" shouted Sarevok before he could think.
Reiltar whirled to face Jelena, looking furious.
- "You would LIE to me, you bitch!"
He pushed Jelena so that she lost her balance and fell on the floor, panting.
Reiltar turned his gleaming gaze back to Sarevok.
- "And, if it was you, Sarevok... go to the stables and fetch the horsewhip."
- "Reiltar! You can't use that on him! He's just a little boy. A child!" Jelena was standing again and yelling, then gasping at her own boldness but was still unwilling to budge.
Reiltar started to laugh. It was an ominous, mirthless, cynical laugh. He approached Jelena in a menacing posture and grabbed the front of her dress, easily. He pushed her against the wall and punched her cheek so hard that Sarevok could hear a sickening sound and her yelp.
- "A child! Yesss, indeed. A sweet, little, innocent, child. How could I forget. Do you know what a little cutthroat this kid is? Perhaps you should go to the infirmary and meet one of my guards. He has a stab wound in his gut and guess who inflicted it? I adopted him precisely because he is a ruthless little bastard, and I won't have you coddle him!"
Sarevok was crying now, like a overflowing river. The look of horror and disbelief in Jelena's eyes was like a stab wound in his chest.
- "Father, father! I'll fetch the whip, just let her go, please..."
- "Then get going!"

The whip was a monstrous thing. It was as tall as Sarevok himself, hard and tough but still resilient. It was normally used with a light hand, to direct the horses to a certain direction. He brought it to the room, worrying more about his mother than of what Reiltar would do to him.
Apparently he had hit Jelena some more, as her eye was swollen and her cheeks angry red. She was sobbing and clutching her knees in the same infantile fashion Sarevok used to do when he was smaller. He handed the whip to Reiltar, happy to see that he had let Jelena alone for a moment.
He didn't like his father's eyes a bit at the moment. Usually they were pale and emotionless, but now they were shining. He was excited and happy.
- "Take your clothes off and bend over the table."
Sarevok felt a violent flash of anger and humiliation. He was no stranger to pain, but before he had always fought it, and now he was ordered to take it without resisting. He was pretty sure that Reiltar couldn't force him without help from someone else. But what of Jelena, and what of his new opportunities? Gritting his teeth, he took his shirt and trousers off and bent over the table.

The pain was like a lake of fire. He tried to swim in it, find someplace where it didn't hurt like a fiery-toothed beast ripping his skin and muscles. He could hear the sickening sound as the whip landed on his back and buttocks. He tried not to cry, but it was as if his nerves were screaming in anguish and it was pouring out of his swollen eyes. After the beating had gone on for a while he started to yelp like a wounded animal, hating himself for it but all the same not able to prevent it. Jelena started to wail.

- "Oh shutup, you both! I have no use for a son who wails like an old woman when he's punished a little! Real men don't cry so shut UP!"
Sarevok felt the pain distance itself, his eyesight going fuzzy, a chaotic buzz in his ears. Soon he lost consciousness, mercifully.

He woke up lying on his stomach. As he tried to turn around it was like rolling on shards of glass, and he whimpered. He felt hot and thirsty and weak. He could hear a faint sound of discussion from the adjoining room.
- ...you can always think of him as an investment. You can't treat well-bred animals like that, either. If you don't control yourself, you might kill him! He's pretty ill as it is." It was Winski, sounding resentful but trying his best to hide it.
- "Bah! Now he at least knows what to expect if he won't satisfy. It had started badly anyway, what with Jelena coddling him, the cow."
- "Very well. But you might just once try a different approach. He might respond well to another kind of treatment, you know." The huffy steps retreated.

Winski came to Sarevok, touching his forehead.
- "Oh dear. You're still in pretty bad shape. Thirsty?"
As Sarevok nodded, he poured water into a glass and gently let the child drink.
- "Winski? Why was father so angry about the glass?"
Winski sighed, looking impatient.
- "He wasn't. It just set him off, if you understand."
Sarevok shook his head.
- "I told you he likes his power. He likes to beat and humiliate you, and Jelena as well, simply because he can. That is always lurking there under the surface, and the glass was merely a half-legitimate reason to act on that."
Sarevok felt his heart sink. How could he possibly avoid setting him off like that? Every day was full off opportunities to do something he wouldn't like.
Winski apparently followed his thinking.
- "I... talked to him. I wish it had impact enough so he won't beat you so severely again. As for what you can do, just try to avoid aggravating him. I know it must gall you, you are a special and proud sort, but perhaps you can think of it as a lesson in patience. Reiltar doesn't count on you to growing up and having other opportunities beside his yoke. So take the abuse, play the obedient son, and remember every lash, every slight. There is time yet to come, and one day you can make him pay. Just not now."
Sarevok nodded, thinking of his words. Winski patted his head.
- "Sleep now, little one."

When he woke again, he felt gentle fingers and a strange, pleasant coolness on his battered back. Jelena was spreading some ointment on his wounds, crying silently as she did. She noticed that Sarevok had woken up.
- "Dear, do you feel any better now? I'm so sorry about this. I shouldn't have made you to help me with the glasses, I just didn't think how much Reiltar appreciates his crystals... but, I was wondering. Is it true? Have you really had to hurt, or even kill, people?"
Sarevok felt as if there was a huge stone inside his chest, suffocating him, growing. He nodded in misery and shame.
- "Oh... oh, my poor child. How much you have suffered! I love you so, I wish you never had to go through something like that."
And her eyes shone even more with love, and she was treating his welts so gently. Suddenly Sarevok was crying, hysterically, endlessly, almost choking on his tears, like all the uncried tears of his lonely years were flowing out at once.
- "Oh, I know. It must hurt so much. Let mother try to make it better..."
But Jelena misunderstood why Sarevok was crying. In spite of all his pain he had never felt anything so sweet than Jelena's loving hands, and that she continued to love him even though she knew that he wasn't like the little elf and little dwarf in the fairy tale, but a killer. If he had to take another beating like this in order to experience this again, he would not complain.