#(Hope this is alright for ya Nocto

[wutaibandit]

Burden Bound.

Several hours had passed since the capture of his hostage, it was nothing more than a job and a reminder to Noctis that he was human, and pain was inevitable to even royalty. A humiliating lesson to be learned now that Noctis had been isolated away from his family, home and friends—no-one could help him now.

The sunlight now pierced through the canopy of trees which surrounded the small remote locale that Marthe had chosen to be their home for the fore coming days, weeks or months, pending upon how cooperative his ransom demands would be. If he made any at all, then there would be other interests in Noctis's enemies he could exploit—picking a location where his power would be moot, inaccessible, and useless, all had also factored into the bandit's decision— far away from any who would side nor wish to help him either. It were an outlandish region in the Cleigne region of Lucis, dry in ether and magic where it refused to cooperate due to a Magitek Jammer that the Imperials had installed. Now, this scar was a blatant message that life was very dangerous even in the comforts of one’s own home.

Had his captive roused?

The corners of his lips turned down at that thought.

Booted feet came to a dominant halt just outside of the room that had kept his prisoner secure. Reaching toward the closed door; deft fingers delved into the leather overalls of his clothing to pilfer a key from the confines, plucking the metallic object from its confines to slot into the hole, twisting it sharply to unlock the door. Worn hinges whined in protest to the bandit’s entrance, breaking light into the darkened room which held nothing but thick-stone walls and a lone body propped against the opposing surface. The bound prince laid there with legs stretched before himself, slowly coming around to the world, once again with grogginess clearly from the impact of being rendered unconscious earlier. The after-effects from the stun-stem in his system would had left a residue, too, despite Marthe giving Noctis the antidote whilst he was out cold. He didn't want a dead prince for a captive, now.

Ears perked at a few soft muffled groans coming from the bound male at his immediate side. Sauntering into the room gingerly with light footfalls, he glanced at the prince, who looked to finally be regaining consciousness. “Morning sunshine. Got some bad news for ya: they ain't comin' for ya—nobody is.” Sassy syllables filtered out to the awakening captive aware of his current predicament now. “Whad'ya think? I think I pulled off the kidnapping rather well. Sorry 'bout hitting you earlier, well, I kind of lied about that part.” The corners of his lips pulled into a coy smile, lacing gloved appendages behind his crown flashing a cheeky grin at the helpless prince seated in the dark confines of the room. Blue visionaries locked a moment with the others, and noted the look of utter frustration and contempt those eyes held towards the rebel individual.

A large bruise was evident across the ashen pigmentation of the heir's ashen skin from where the thief had punched his captive query, tarnishing his chin where the brunt of the violent blow had left its mark, leaving a bloody trail of dried blood from the lower lip. Marthe sighed and patted the royal heir on the shoulder lightly. “Oh come on, don’t look at me like that. It's just a job, and you just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time, buddy." The hazel-haired bandit could hear naught but the disjointed sounds emerging from his prisoner. Lifting a playful smile to cross the cheeky-thief's disposition gleaming at Noctis's uncomfortable state, more so than normal; given that Noctis were a Prince, and to see him drawn down to such humiliation were a prize itself.

Pivoting around to crouch before his captive audience, knees bent to allow the bandit to sit proudly upon the haunches of laced boots as his loose-leather attire matched his stance to meet the level of his captivated query eye-to-eye. "Comfy there?" Sarcasm bled into his baritone. It was an impossible notion, especially considering he was laying on the floor. His arms were pressed firmly against his ribcage, wrists bound tightly behind his back in thick twine rope and at the ankles. "Oh, and don't bother tryin' to use yer' powers—they won't work here pal. Not for miles around this area but I guess a dim-witted Prince can always try as ya fell right into my lil' "act" back there in Lestallum." Marthe rubbed salt fresh into the wound without waiting. "Go ahead; I dare ya..." He goaded; smirking deviously to boot to see if he would be stupid and desperate enough to try.

Unfortunately for Noctis; the bandit were telling the truth for THIS time. It didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the look of despair and desperation on his face though.

“Don't presume me a fool, jus' cause I'm a thief—I thought this through well, and know all 'bout those funky powers you hold. Luckily, we're in a secluded spot right here with the Imperials usin' fancy contraptions, and nobody here even cares about royalty to want to help a snotty brat like you. Yer' all alone here, Noct-o...even if carryin' you all this way in secret without some Imperial patrol  spottin' us wasn't the easiest of tasks!” Marthe hinted on the name of the bound prince. Knowing who his true identity were and how much he had waited to finally come face-to-face with the blood heir to the throne. He hadn’t needed to maintain direct eye contact with the Lucian male to notice the slight tremble shake the previously sturdy foundations of the man’s body language, fracture initiated almost as soon as he began to mention how vulnerable and alone Noctis was now away from the safety of his own Kingdom. Nevertheless, he chose not to reveal too much about the location to Noctis—at least, not for now.

“You’ll learn yer' place.” He muttered, stretched both limbs in the air to signify a forced yawn to expel from between pallid lips, lowering his hands to rest behind his head once again, lacing the gloved appendages into the chestnut tresses. “You’ll have to, if you want to avoid a smack on yer' lil' chin again. Want me to knock ya out, or will you behave, hmn?” It wasn't a rhetorical question. Threat simmering; gloved palms clasped together in front of himself, popping the knuckles to signify his threat if Noctis provoked him, finally allowing a hint of amusement to replace its previous sharpness, a subtle warning was issued. Noctis had only awakened to figure that one out himself—gesturing tauntingly toward the blackened pigmentation of the royal male's jaw, hidden behind the tendrils of bemused black-hair.