nike_ravus (nike_ravus) wrote,


 Title: Fake Empire Side Story: Emily's Notebooks volume II (pt 11): Torture
Author: Alsike
Rating: R
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Other Emma Frost/Other Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Criminal Minds. I owe 
[info]wizened_cynic for the concept of quantum babies. She does it much better than me. Title stolen from the poem The State of Virginia After Southampton: 1831, by Geoffrey Brock.
Apologies: And now for something a little bit different.

Summary: In a different world, Erik Magnus overthrew the US government when Emily Prentiss was only twelve years old. On that day the course of her life changed irrevocably. This is her story.

Fake Empire Side Stories:
Emily's Notebooks I: The Christmas Revolution
Whore,Pain, Fear, Death
Emily's Notebooks II: Nights Spent Listening to Noises
Want, Jealousy, Loyalty,

Original Fake Empire Stories


           I turned.  The marchioness was there, half wrapped in an open shirt.  I could scent sex on the air.  I flashed through about half a dozen emotions before I remembered that I didn’t care.  But my mouth moved faster than my brain.

“You’re not staying with…” 

I cursed myself.  Would I ever remember how to hold my tongue?

Elizabeth gave me a sharp look.  “I don’t sleep with people,” she said disgustedly.  “Why would you…”  Then she tipped her head and looked at me.  Her eyes seemed to glow.

And suddenly there were rough straps restraining my mind.  The marchioness appeared in the midst of my thoughts in purple leather armor, her gaze cruel.  I couldn’t think as she summoned images from my memories.

When she found one and brought it out, I would live it all over again.  When people say it was like a dream, they mean it was foggy and muddled and confusing, but that’s only the memory of a dream.  While you’re dreaming, you can’t tell the difference between it and reality.  That was what this was like.  I couldn’t tell myself it wasn’t true, because it was happening, just like the first time.

She seemed to have an unerring instinct for every miserable memory I had, every moment of loss or loneliness. She started when I was a child, bringing back that sharp, vicious humiliation that I had lived with nearly every day, because I was always doing something wrong.  She reminded me of the loss of my best friend, her death, when I was seven, my father leaving the next year, the fights and painful dinners, his funeral, the move to Kiev, ostracization by my peers, that sickening feeling of being wrong, being afraid, when I realized what I wanted… who I wanted.

I could feel the marchioness’ glee as she encountered the next parts, all the things I have already told, the sudden change, the fall from status as my mother lost her job when her government fell, sitting in city hall, begging for asylum, “asylum from the Russians,” my mother cursed with incredulity, her madness, my feelings of complete and utter disorientation, and then her death.  I had tried so hard to lock away the feelings I had had on the train and in the prison camps, and none of them stood out in my memories, but with Elizabeth’s interference I was lost again in the unrelenting fear, horror, pain, and hunger.  If there had been some moment of kindness, some moment of sacrifice that I could recall, I might, perhaps, have been able to believe in the nobility of the human spirit.  But all that I could see was futile shows of resistance, ending in suicide by mutant, and forcing us to ride with the vile humors exuding from the rotting corpses piled up against the wall, selfishness, and violence as the strong took what little food there was to be had from the weak.

The marchioness sped through most of what came after.  She couldn’t find any sites of hot burning emotion.  Had I truly been that numb?  But of course I had.  Horrors surrounded me on every side, moving corpses, mopping blood, but the worst I had felt was irritation at someone knocking my bucket over.

I had been dead inside, until now, until I woke up in my mistress’ bed and for a moment was able to forget everything that had happened.

<< Oh, you are a piece of work. >>  She laughed as she bathed in the nets of my tangled feelings.  She relished my pain as I was beaten.  She stroked my rage and teased my desire until I was a wreck, miserable and emotionally exhausted.

<< You really want to be me?  How sweet. >>  She batted her eyelashes at my restrained avatar.

<< I never want to be you.  Get out.  Get out of my head. >>  I fought against the bonds, futilely, weakly.  I didn’t know how.  I couldn’t even find a way to make them tense.  I was utterly at her mercy, and it was clear that was something she lacked.

I cried.  Some little connection to my physical body told me that tears were running out of my eyes, but inside my mind, my avatar cracked from the inside like ice.  I was broken.

<< How… how can you do this to me?  Emma said I have good shields. >>

Elizabeth laughed in my avatar’s face.  << That’s bullshit.  You don’t even have real shields.  You just don’t broadcast all your thoughts around all the time.  You don’t control them.  Anyone with a week of training and any aptitude for mental control could do the same. >>

<< But she said… >>

She traced her finger down my nose and I felt it, but in a different way than I expected.  I flinched, and my mental body responded, pulling at the bonds.  << Emma’s a crap telepath.  She’s got the raw power but she hasn’t trained it.  Compared to someone who knows what they’re doing, she’s weak. >>

<< Don’t say- >>

<< God, you are pathetic.  You and your little case of Stockholm Syndrome.  Siding with her won’t protect you, love, not when she’s making so many mistakes.  Let her know, someone who backs both horses loses at least once every race. >>

I didn’t believe it, but both the marchioness and Adrienne seemed to believe that Emma had a tendency to turn dangerously left.  But how on earth could someone who murdered a man negligently, simply because she did not care, ever consider humans important enough to take a political stand for?

She stole that thought as I had it, and laughed at me again.  << She doesn’t, I checked.  She thinks nothing of humans, feels nothing but disdain for their weakness, and anger for what she suffered at their hands.  She thinks nothing of you.  You do not even exist in her head. >>

I couldn’t help the flare of anger.  I didn’t believe her.  I so blatantly could not believe her, although I had been telling myself the same thing.  There was no way to hide it, no need to.  I blasted it at her.  << How dare you- >>

She smirked as the wave crested.  << You’re so desperate to mean something to her, aren’t you?  Can’t you just deal with the fact that you are an object used for sex? >>  She showed me my memory of the first time, let me hear the lies I told myself.  << Yes, she was nervous.  It was her first time.  You wanted to take responsibility for that, teach her.  But you failed at training her properly.  She never touched you.  She never even considered it.  Emma got angry because her servants scratched her toy, not because it was you.  There is no you to her, do you understand that yet? >>

I couldn’t look at her.  I didn’t want to face that.  I wanted to believe it wasn’t true.  Elizabeth caressed my avatar’s face and made me look at her.  << You are such a fool to want her.  She has no idea of what to do with a woman.  I’ll blame you for it.  You’re the one who taught her to be selfish in bed. >>

<< What? >>

I could see it.  I could see Emma wanting her, kissing her, like she would never ever kiss me, pulling her down onto the bed, wanting to touch, wanting to be touched.

<< Oh, she gave it her best shot.  But the girl had no idea what she was doing.  Not like you. >>  She played with one of my memories, one of my favorites, of Emma breaking, giving her body, her response, her pleasure up to me.  << But you were trained. >>

Trained?  Had Irina prepared me for that as well?  I recalled her pressing down on my head, hissing instructions.  My mouth and fingers slick with her come, she sometimes petted my hair.  But it was Elizabeth petting my hair.  << Don’t worry.  I’m sure you were satisfactory.  It’s hard to make an ex-KGB scream. >>

And then suddenly I was in Elizabeth’s memories, Emma’s bedroom, my mistress sitting up, naked, in her bed and looking at us.

“I’m done.”  It was Elizabeth’s voice, as we pulled on the shirt.


“Take my advice and get some practice.  Girls as bad as you don’t get to come.”

The look on her face…  I was grateful that Elizabeth walked out without looking back.

The marchioness laughed at me.  << It would only take a little to finish her off.  I bet she’d spread her legs for you this time, even if you wanted to kill her as much as you do me right now. >>   She petted my face.  << I’d let you.  In fact, I could make you do it.  Would you like that?  Would you like me to put a compulsion in your head to make you lick me until I came?  I could make you need to service everyone in this building.  You’d wake her sister up with your tongue in her pussy, then you’d go and suck off your boss until he came on your face, and then that blue boy.  I wonder if is cock is as pointy as his tail.  And then you’d go down on that little roommate of yours, and she’d whimper and flail and ask you what you were doing- >>

<< Get out!  Get out! >>  I threw myself against the bonds and they bent, and I strained against them.  I jerked my shoulder and my hand was free.  I slapped her.  It wasn’t a physical slap, and yet it hurt my hand as if it were.  It must have hurt her too, for she looked at me, with fire in her eyes.

The straps tightened around my shoulders.  One wrapped around my neck like a snake and choked me.  << Learn your place, human.  If you want to betray your race for cuddles, go ahead, but don’t think that you’re one of us.  Don’t ever, ever, make that mistake. >>

The screaming pain in my head was too much to bear.  I could see flashes of the hallway, flashes of inside my mind, starbursts and pulsing veins, and then there was only darkness.




Tags: au, criminal minds, emma/emily, fake empire, x-men

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