Don't make him the villain

Aleksander part 1

(This is the requested darkling pov that will mirror each of the previous chapters)

The Darkling had a woman tied in his tent.
His mind was rummaging, finding it hard to concentrate on his duties while his thoughts were running astray. He knew who she was, he'd heard of her through some rumors circulating throughout Ravka. A little assassin who played at being a bounty hunter, perhaps she was a spy. Either way, the poison in her bag suggested illegal affairs.

He reflected on what he could do, the options being presented to him were all enticing in entirely different ways. He had met many women during the long span of his existence, yet none had dared to steal a chunk of his powers before.
He liked the idea of it. Someone who wasn't scared of him, someone who did not ask questions, someone with whom he didn't have to. He liked the way she had flinched, he like the subtitle defiance in her gaze, he liked how she pleaded. The gasps echoed in his ears, the hushed screams, the begging, the shift in her demeanor turning her docile and entirely dependent on him. He clenched his fists at the memory taking up the entirety of his attention.

Doing any work became futile, he soon realized, as his only desire was to go back in his tent and play with her. He obliged himself eventually, after an hour that seemed like it stretched into days.
She was where he'd left her, chained to a pole, sitting on the floor, her eyes scanning every object in the room, her fingers flexing around the cuffs trying to wrench them off. She noticed him coming in with an array of maps freshly drawn from the cartography team. He took off his kefta, black and luxurious, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"What's your name", he asks tentatively trying to engage in a conversation, his back turned to her, in fear that he'd stare too intensely.
"Whatever you want it to be."
A cocky one, how intriguing.
"Keeping secrets from me isn't going to work dear"
"What's your name then?"

Oh. A question no one had dares to ask in years. Everyone referred to him by his title, doing otherwise would be a misstep. He was not going to tell her his name, it was a simple one, one that belonged to a boy who had made many mistakes. They stayed in silence, the question hovering in the air above them.
"Dear works fine for me," she said under her breath, almost whispering.
Yes, dear worked for him too. He wondered what name she'd use for him, would she invented one, call him by his title or not address him at all. What would she moan in bed? Would she pick then, if she was even able to get her thoughts straight to mutter coherently or have enough strength to scream something other than sounds of pleasure.

He started on his reports, sitting at the made-up desk, trying to ignore the girl staring absently at his back. The Darkling made his move to the bed, picking up his book where he had left it, sitting down on the fur covers, the silence building again full of insinuation.

"Aren't you cold?"
She replied that she was fine. A clear lie since he could see that she was shivering, her teeth chattering quietly as she tucked her legs against her frame to keep in the heat. He tossed some of the blankets to the side, making room next to him.
He requested that she came next to him, testing her willingness and obedience at the same time.
"I'm chained," she said in a monotonous tone that was heavy in hope for freedom at the new opportunity to escape.
"Your chains are long enough to reach the bed, come."

Special chains created by the fabrikators contained different locks that varied in length, giving the person wielding them the possibility to decide on the size of the movement range. He clenched his fingers, a small motion almost imperceptible, changing the length of the remaining chain that clicked in as a new single dark metallic band formed at its base.

She did not move yet, weighing in the factors of the decision that implied much more than it lets on.
"The next time you're in pain, I shall let you suffer alone until you crawl to me begging for help. I like the sounds you make when you're whining." He added as a threat, of course it would be fun to see it happen, he considered it and decided to keep it in the back of his mind.
"Will you take the chains off?" She asks almost fluttering her eyelashes looking up through them innocently as if she was a child requesting candy.
"You would prefer a collar then?"
He was certainly fond of collars himself. Having someone hanging from a leach, a necklace tightly wrapped around their necks as if it was his own hand, a display for all to see who they belonged to. It made him burn with envy to tug her around and drag her right between his legs. Perhaps he'd request one made by his grishas as well.