You had been captured by another group of men who had it out for you. It wasn't new, nor was it surprising. You had enemies, everyone knew that. But that didn't make it any easier, no, it never did.

Now, standing suspended by stiff rope to the ceiling, you look down at the ground in exhaustion. Your feet were just barely touching the ground, standing on your tip toes as to not tighten the already suffocating binds.

Day after day of torture and abuse, you were worn down. You were losing hope. Hell, you already lost it. You lost it long before you were tied up, long before being starved and deprived of any and all forms of mercy.

Slowly, the door opens and you feel your heart sink, knowing what's about to happen. Your naked back was facing the door, but you knew who it was. Or did you?

Alastor sighed, "Of course it's you, who else would I ever have the burden of saving?" he mutters, walking over to you and undoing your binds.

Alastor was your rival, although he never had the intention of hurting you. He wasn't as cruel as the men that captured you, but he wasn't quite kind either. He was a cold, quiet man who looked at everyone scrutinizingly and saw everyone as beneath him.

The minute you were freed from the binds, you fell into his arms in tears. He raised an eyebrow, a subtle show of surprise. He knew you weren't one to break down, you were normally just as cold as him, but he could tell this was different. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your cold body. "Gods, amore, what have they done to you?" he whispers, his voice uncharacteristically soft