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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years ago

Text

Rekindled

Summary: After a hard night of drinking with Lenny, Arthur finds himself in an odd but familiar spot. He also meets someone he hadn’t seen in months: you.

Warnings: It’s angsty smut hours here, folks.

A/N: So this is technically an older piece, since I started it last October and have been working on it little by little since. I did post a preview of it last year if anyone remembers!

A path of light crossed over Arthur’s closed eyes, rousing him from a deep sleep. He blinked them open, bleary and heavy, greeted with the unfamiliar ceiling of a cabin.

The sun shone through the light curtains of a window next to him, and he quickly realized he’d been laying in a bed. The leftover tiredness vanished as he jerked up in surprise, only to be cursed with a splitting headache. The room spun, an uncomfortable dizziness that caused his stomach to lurch.

Expelling a small groan, he gingerly rubbed his palm over his face, resting it on his forehead. How much did he drink last night?

Movement caught his eye, the door on the far side of the room opening. He tensed up, soon forgetting about his moment of weakness to grab for his gun – only to realize his belt had been removed.

A figure stepped in, covered in a jacket and a long skirt billowing around their legs. Beautiful hair that flowed elegantly around their face. Hands laden with a bucket. As they turned toward him, Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Y/N?!”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” you spoke, your voice light in a chime. “’Bout time too, it’s early afternoon.”

Arthur seemed to be flabbergasted by your appearance, mouth hung open slightly as he continued to stare. It’d been months since you’d last seen each other.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, causing him to wince and double over.

“There’s another bucket next to you.” You’d said nonchalantly, turning away to heave the bucket onto the table. Liquid sloshed loudly within it.

Without looking Arthur grabbed the other bucket, having done just in time as he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into it. He retched and heaved uncomfortably, the pain overcoming him until the spasms of his body calmed down. The rancid taste lingered in his mouth, a tinge of alcohol still remaining. He spat into the bucket and placed it back on the ground.

“Where are we?” he rasped, wiping his mouth.

“Cumberland Forest,” you responded without turning to face him. “Little cabin tucked away in the trees.”

“You…you live here?” he asked, pushing the blankets away in an attempt to stand.

“For the time being,” you answered, swiveling around with a tin cup in your hands. “Here.” You walked over to him, pushing on his shoulder.

Arthur towered over you, yet he fell back onto the bed to your gentle pressure. You held the cup out which he took, warily peering into it. Clear water that was cool to the touch filled it halfway. Arthur brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip, swishing it to remove some of the taste on his tongue. He spat it into the bucket once more. “Thanks,” he sighed, placing the cup down. “How’d I…did ya find me or somethin’?”

“Passed out on the side of the road, reeking with alcohol,” you confirmed with a snicker. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

Arthur ducked his head in shame, sighing out a response. “Yeah…” he shook his head at himself, albeit lightly to not agitate the pounding that refused to leave his head. It’d fallen silent for a long moment, thoughts moving through his mind as he tried to find his next words.

He hadn’t seen you in months; you having up and left the gang without so much as a note of farewell. He woke up one day to find you and your belongings gone and no trace of you at all. It left the others bewildered, some even trying to track you, including Arthur himself. The search lasted for days, however the effort proved to be fruitless as the trail had gone cold.

“Listen, I have to run into Valentine for a bit,” you said, moving away from him to grab a satchel that hung on the wall. “Stay if you want, just don’t think about robbing me. You know damn well I can track you if you do.”

Arthur blinked at your abruptness, watching quietly as you opened the door again, stepping out into the greenery that surrounded the cabin. After a few seconds, the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance.

Once the door closed, he was surrounded by silence again. He stood up carefully, hit by another wave of dizziness. He leaned on the wall, clutching at his head as a second bout of nausea overcame him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to dry heave.

As the feeling passed, he opened his eyes again. He was in just a simple one room building. He realized with a jolt this was Six Point Cabin, the area that held the O’Driscoll camp which Kieran had helped ambush just days earlier. He didn’t recognize it at first; there had been some cleaning done, a little bit of redecorating here and there. He moved toward a window, peering toward the field that the small massacre occurred. The tents and supplies were all still there, though some items have been moved around. He assumed you were probably looking through the tents and crates for anything useful or valuable.

He couldn’t fathom why you chose this place to stay in, wondering if you’d ever run into any other O’Driscoll goons. So many questions he wanted to ask, and he was tempted to follow you into Valentine. Though after the previous night, it didn’t seem like the best idea. He wondered how Lenny fared after last night, if he’d managed to get back to camp. The last thing Arthur remembered was stumbling away from the law.

In reality, he should try and head back to camp. However, unanswered questions that cycled in his mind rooted him in place. Your departure had caused him more pain than he realized, keeping him up for many nights in lost wonder on where you went and hoping you’d return. Easily one of the most productive members in the gang, you had proven to be a great thief and a formidable fighter. Additionally there was a softness to you, a kind heart that reached out for those in need. He always had to admire you from afar.

He sighed and reached for the water cup, lifting it to his parched lips and taking a swallow. Guess he’ll wait around for your return.

---

An hour passed, and Arthur’s patience didn’t wear. He kept himself busy, letting his strength slowly regain. Some personal items of yours were strewn about, little reminders of your presence that he missed. He’d found his satchel underneath the bed, having some stringy meat once he knew the nausea wouldn’t return. His gun belt, he’d realized, was resting against the bed post. His hat was on top of it.

Upon the fireplace, he’d noticed a framed photo. It was the entire gang, all posing in front of a large carriage. Upon taking the photo, he had been standing close to you, close enough to touch. He remembered that day fondly.

A few more memories stirred up, the feeling of nostalgia touching him in both a pleasant and unpleasant way.

A little more time had passed until the thundering of hooves caught his attention. He tensed, hand automatically hovering over his revolver. A moment later, the door opened to reveal you once again.

He relaxed in an instant, letting out the breath he was holding. As you closed the door, you met his gaze and smiled. “Haven’t left yet huh?”

“Don’t got a horse at the moment.” Arthur answered instantly, which was only partially true to his degree.

“Never stopped you before,” you said with a raised eyebrow. “I know you can easily steal one.”

“You’re right,” Arthur nodded. “But I ain’t leavin’, not til you answer some questions.”

Your smile turned rueful. “Figured as much,” you sighed, placing your satchel on the table. Pulling out a can of beans and some already cooked meat slabs, you continued. “Wanna have some dinner, then?”

Arthur looked at you for a moment, and then shrugged, sitting at the table. The stringy meat hadn’t exactly provided him with much. He waited silently as you prepared two plates, placing one in front of him and the other at your own spot. As you settled into your seat, Arthur’s eyes were on you.

“Alright, ask.”

“Why did ya leave?” he immediately spoke. “’Specially when you didn’t say goodbye to anyone.”

You sighed, casting your gaze down to your plate. You toyed with the beans briefly before spooning some into your mouth, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “Somethin’ didn’t seem right.”

Arthur tilted his head. “What do ya mean by that?”

“I dunno, I kept getting this…feeling,” you explained, your free hand resting over your heart. “A feeling that something bad was gonna happen. I didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was.”

“So you just up n’ left?” Arthur concluded. “Why didn’t ya say anything to anyone?”

“Would any of y’all have believed me?” you countered. When Arthur hesitated, you added, “Didn’t think so.”

“Coulda at least told me,” he mumbled. “At least told me goodbye. I…we tried trackin’ ya for a little while.”

“I thought you would try, so I had to make sure I covered my tracks well,” You explained. “Kept myself moving.”

Arthur solemnly nodded once, momentarily falling silent to eat some of his meal. He wasn’t sure what to say next, trying to process the information that was given. You’d left on a bad feeling. He understood gut feelings, knowing them all too well in a lifestyle such as this. “What caused it?” he finally asked.

“Can’t say for sure,” you replied with a small shake of your head. “But when Micah joined… it just felt like something was different.”

Micah, of course. That headstrong fool causing more problems than not these past few months. “So Micah caused you to leave.”

“Eh, part of it. Racist asshole.” you murmured.

A chuckle passed his lips. “He’s in jail over in Strawberry right now. I’m supposed to go get ‘im, and I’d rather wrestle a damn pack ‘o wolves.”

“Not surprised,” venom dripped from your voice. “But it was…more than just him. I started having nightmares. Bloodshed and bodies, mangled faces of those I cared about…” you swallowed hard, stopping to eat some more. A moment of silence followed as you chewed on the meat. “I came to the conclusion that I didn’t wanna be a part of that, so I left.”

Nightmares. Arthur shook his head in disbelief, leaning back against the chair, folding his arms. “Seems a little silly to run ‘cause of nightmares.”

“I thought so too, until I heard the mess you guys caused in Blackwater.” You pointed out as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know about that?” he said incredulously.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Who hasn’t? I got into town not too long after you fled. Pinkertons everywhere, interrogating people on the streets. I had to keep myself hidden, managed to sneak out. When I learned what happened, I realized I was right. Something went wrong.”

Arthur sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was hesitant to compare your dream to the awful reality. He reluctantly spoke, “Weren’t just Blackwater neither. We got chased up into the Grizzlies, lost some folk on the way. We managed to get in a better spot, but it ain’t easy gettin’ back on our feet.”

“Only further proving my point,” You added. “I couldn’t bring myself to be a part of that.”

“We’re outlaws, life is always dangerous for us. You knew that when ya joined up.” Arthur argued, stabbing the meat with unnecessary force to cut it.

“Of course I knew that, Arthur,” you retorted with a slight scowl, though melting to a look of sadness. “I wouldn’t have been with Dutch for years if I hadn’t. But honestly…my gut was telling me to get out, and I did.”

He fell silent again, a flame in his chest wanting him to argue more yet nothing but empty words filled his mind. Bickering was something you and him were good at, usually about silly things that resolved on its own within a few minutes. It was only on rare occasions did you two disagree on a bigger matter, resulting in neither of you speaking for a day, and would only speak if he approached you first. You were more stubborn than he was.

Remembering those days brought a bout of woeful sentiments, reminding him all too clearly how much he’d missed you when you left. “I jus’...” he trailed off, rubbing his face before continuing. “Everyone misses you. They still wonder why ya left.”

You pursed your lips, dropping your gaze down to your plate. “I wanted to say something, I truly did. But I know it would have made things worse.”

Your last words set anger in him, bubbling up to the surface. “You leavin’ without a word was worse!” Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hand outward. “You had us all worried, wonderin’ where you were!” his fist fell heavily on the table, shaking the contents on top of it. “Search parties, days of trackin’ worthless! Losin’ sleep thinkin’ I’d never see you again.”

At first you’d seemed unphased by his outburst. However as he finished, your face began to falter. He waited for you to speak, expecting another flimsy reason or excuse to justify your actions.

With a sigh, you said, “I’m sorry, Arthur. I really am. I…” you sniffed, rubbing your eyes briefly. “I really miss you guys too. It…it took me a lot of convincing to even go through with it, and I had to constantly fight myself not to return. You guys are my family and I could never change that. It hurt me much more than you’d think.”

Arthur listened to you, his lips set in a hard line as he studied you. The raw emotion that touched your voice softened his otherwise angered heart. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to settle his thoughts right. There was no need to be frustrated; what was done was done. “Maybe you shoulda said somethin’. Maybe Dutch woulda listened. Wouldn’t have lost the people we did.”

“I could have and should have done many things, Arthur,” you said quietly. “But some things are meant to happen regardless. We can’t change what’s intended.”

Those words hit him with more force than he’d thought. Bowing his head, staring at the half-finished food before him. He’d lost his appetite, his heart sinking uncomfortably deep into his guts. He’d wanted answers and now he nearly regretted asking. Maybe he should have left while you were out. He wasn’t sure what answer he’d expected, though his wandering thoughts kept him awake at night those first few weeks of your absence.

There was no doubt you two had been close; both taken under Dutch’s wing at a young age. Years together of running, robbing and riding, those minor arguments and drunken nights around the campfire. Hours of speaking to one another about some nonsense, secrets whispered and kept. Some of the others would joke that you two acted like a married couple, bickering and making up right after, moving in sync and often going on missions together. Arthur would scoff and you would laugh, sometimes making the joke yourself and even going as far as to suggest to do it for real.

Arthur could never tell if you were joking or not, and would brush it off with a half-hearted chuckle. It was an absurd suggestion, wondering who could ever marry him. Yet with your departure, it were as if a piece of him had been taken with you.

He often perceived it as something he’d done wrong, though couldn’t fathom as to why it would be his own fault. You knew about Mary, about Eliza. His luck with women was something left to be desired. Yet you weren’t involved romantically, never gave an inkling of being sweet on one another. His own lack of self-confidence had automatically convinced him he wasn’t one to have any sort of close relation with the opposite sex. Perhaps it was silly to assume he was owed something from you.

He stood up immediately, aggressively pushing himself from the table as he got to his feet. As he turned to grab his things, he heard your voice.

“Arthur?”

“Gotta get goin’,” he responded without looking at you. “Got some things to take care of.”

He heard you sigh, the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor as you stood up. “At least let me walk you to the door.”

Arthur didn’t answer, grabbing his hat and satchel. As he crossed the cabin, you were right behind him, quickly walking ahead to grab the door. You opened it for him, stepping out into the late afternoon light. He could just march out and not look back, but somehow your presence there distracted him. He stopped at the threshold, looking down at you.

Rays of light beamed through the vegetation, touching your face in such a way that your skin glowed. Eyes reflected brightly, highlighting the beauty that graced your finer features. A hint of disappointment hung on your lips as a small frown, and your eyes never left his.

Silent words passed between you two like a bolt of electricity, his nerves tingling as if he were struck himself. You were the epitome of gorgeous; your features having stayed the same regardless of the hardships. More than once your face appeared in his dreams, treading through his mind in the quiet hours of the night. Those suggested ideas of marriage tugged at him on occasion, daring to venture where that would lead.

Sure, he never did believe you, partly due to his previous relationships. He was a cursed man, damned to never be truly satisfied with his life as the powers above teasingly dangled his desires in front of him. Cruel was fate for pulling you away too. Perhaps you were right about how some things were meant to happen.

“Stay with me.” You said. It wasn’t a question nor a suggestion.

Arthur felt his breath hitch.

“Don’t go back, please.” Your voice was low, swimming with raw emotion.

You never pleaded, the slightest hints of it in your tone caught Arthur off guard. He stared at you with contemplation, your words pulling at his heartstrings with more force than intended.

“I…can’t…” he forced himself to say, wringing out the words as if his throat were dry.

Your lips pursed, your steady gaze not breaking from his. “You’re not invincible, ya know. One day…things will change.”

He inhaled, opening his mouth as if to argue, yet no words formed on his lips. A strong mix of emotions raged within him still, a battle of uncertainty that could not be quelled. “Things always change.” He managed to say quietly.

“Not for the better, you know that.” You emphasized.

Of course he knew that, hell, he probably knew that better than anyone. Pain, death, and sadness took the forefront of his life more often than he’d like, yet cutting ties as you did would be much more difficult. He had a family, close bonds that would take effort to break.

Seeing you standing before him, the desperation bright and glassy in your eyes, had him consider it for a brief moment.

He spoke your name, his words trailing off as he watched you step closer, just inches away from him.

“We could be…good…together, Arthur,” you whispered, tilting your head up, your breath wafting gently across his face. “You and I…no more outlaw days, no more running, no more worrying…just…us.”

His heart pounded like a drum against his ribs. Having you this close rendered his head devoid of all thought. Your words echoed in his mind, the very brief consideration driven by something deeper within him.

His mouth opened slightly, though whatever he was going to say was quickly subdued by your lips.

Shock overcame him, stiffening in surprise. You pulled back instantaneously, staring into his eyes with an expectant look.

He stared at you in bewilderment, stirring up a myriad of feelings. Silent questions arose, none of which formed in his mouth. His hands twitched forward without thought, raising one to graze his fingers against your cheek. Cupping it gently, he leaned forward and kissed you properly.

Your lips were soft against his, warm and plump, easily melding against his mouth. His other hand hovered along your lower back, hesitant, yet you stepped forward to welcome his embrace. Bodies touching, his arm rested against you, holding you to him.

It’d been so long since he kissed anyone; he nearly forgot what it felt like. A sweet rush of bliss washed over him, soon forgetting the unease that held the both of you. His hands slinked into your hair, holding you close as his lips moved silently against yours.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, his nerves tingling pleasantly from your touch. It was as if you had fire in your skin, every part of his body responding to the heat that radiated from you. He pulled back for air, breathing heavily as if he’d run a race. Blood rushed, thumping in his ears.

You kept hold of him, a small smile painted on your face. You’d reached up and pulled his hat off. A thousand unspoken words were exchanged through your gazes alone, all of which told one message that he understood.

Stay.

Your hands ran slowly across his shoulders, fingers trickling lightly across the fabric of his shirt. You outlined the muscles of his biceps, trailing along his forearms and finally to his hands. His hands gently entwined with yours, warm and soft against his rough and calloused skin.

You silently pulled him back into the cabin, his feet light as he followed you without protest. Your lips found his again, eliciting such passion behind it that it nearly caught him off guard. His arms took hold of you, pulling you in a tight embrace. Your closeness, the warmth that radiated through your clothes against him, it was all so surreal.

God, has he been holding back for this long? Was this just a dream?

Arthur pulled back an inch, resting his forehead against yours. You felt so real in his arms, against his chest. He uttered your name, barely a whisper that held his vulnerability. The way he longed for you was unlike any other. You were more than just a fellow outlaw to him, more than just family.

Now he knew why you suggested marriage.

And he’d been so afraid of another relationship, he refused to see it for what it was himself.

You sighed his name, your voice like a soft song in his ears.

It hurts to be without you.

He dipped his head down, resting it carefully on your shoulder. Your hands threaded through his hair with soothing strokes. Your scent overwhelmed him, a lovely aroma which fogged his senses. He breathed in slowly, locking you into his memory.

His lips ghosted across the soft skin of your neck, placing a baby kiss along your pulse point. A short, uneven breath rattled from your throat. Lifting his head, he peered at your face. Your eyes were half-lidded, staring at him with an expression he recognized, yet he was in disbelief.

Why me?

Your palms rested on his chest, holding his gaze as your fingers inched toward his exposed skin. You traced his collar bones, your touch light. Moving across the midline of his pectorals, you stopped over his racing heart that leapt from the lightest of grazes.

His skin felt like fire, a trail prickling after your touch. After years of only bath ladies having come in contact with his naked skin, this effect was foreign and familiar simultaneously. He watched as your fingers deftly worked the topmost closed button of his shirt.

He stiffened automatically, unable to hide the wariness of judgment that crept to the forefront of his mind. You must have recognized his apprehension, moving one hand to cup his cheek. Your face was gentle, offering a look of safety.

You can trust me.

A shuddering breath pushed past his lips. Such intimacy was lost to him long ago, only to be visited in his dreams. He missed it so and was afraid to attempt with another woman. He did trust you, trusted you with his life even. Perhaps it was time to strengthen it even more.

He ducked his head slightly, giving a small nod to allow you to continue. A soft kiss was placed on his cheek. You continued further, easing your way down his buttons, keeping your eyes level with his.

He was nervous, his heart refusing to cease its hammering. His mind incessantly whispered unkind comments, battling actively with his better senses. With each button released, exposing more of his torso, he waited for your reaction of disgust or disinterest. With the last undone, his shirt fell open to reveal his union suit. You hadn’t hesitated to repeat the process, exposing more and more of his torso to you until he was bare from the waist up.

He watched you with held breath as you smoothed your palm against his abdomen, the tips of your fingers trailing gently along the ridges of his muscles. A look of interest appeared across your face, tracing patterns along his skin. To his surprise, you hadn’t offered him any notion of repulsion.

You reached up, taking hold of his shirt and suspenders to peel them from his shoulders. The cool air nipped his skin, though it didn't quell the warmth that slowly spread through him. He closed his eyes from your softness, aware of the way your hands explored him. Just this alone brought a brighter light in the darkness of his inner thoughts, slowly diminishing the skepticism that plagued him.

Your fingers rested on the back of his neck, applying gentle pressure to bring him to you. As your lips met you grasped his hand, placing it gently upon your own shirt.

Hesitant as he was, fingers twitching across the buttons, he longed for more.

Without a pause you guided him with ease, directing him along the line as they parted. The silky fabric of your chemise grazed against his knuckles. He opened his eyes, pulling back to view. Your shirt fell from your shoulders, pooling on the ground around your feet.

Your skirt was soon to follow, the billowing waves of fabric landing elegantly upon the worn wooden floor. Down to nothing but your unmentionables, you placed Arthur’s hands onto your waist. Heat radiated through the thin fabric like a furnace. You inched closer, pressing your body against his. You were so delicate compared to him, even though you presented yourself otherwise.

He wanted to touch you more, to feel your bare skin in his palms. His reluctance fueled by the remaining dregs of apprehension stopped him. He idly tested the fabric between his fingers, unsure whether or not to move forward. Your eyes reflected patience, silently awaiting his decision.

I trust you too.

Releasing a shuddering exhale, Arthur tugged the straps down from your shoulders. Your breasts, perfect and round, were revealed to him as he peeled it away. You aided him further, sliding the entire piece down your waist, falling past your legs to join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You were completely nude now, standing before him with shameless confidence. He gazed at you up and down while drinking in the lovely sight with careful precision. Lord, you were gorgeous. A Goddess next to such a plain man such as himself. He almost felt shameful to even stand in your presence.

You stepped closer, pressing your body to his as you wrapped your arms around his neck once more. Your breasts rested against his chest which left him breathless. Desire began to pool within him, stirring heat in his very core. He bit his lip with an inability to hinder the ever growing arousal. He held you again, resting his hands just above the curve of your rear. Trailing his fingertips up and down your spine, reveling how good you felt to him.

He soon found the courage to venture further, falling to the lust that took hold of him. Your butt felt heavenly to him, kneading your flesh which produced a quiet moan from you. Standing on your toes, you placed your lips upon his neck, trailing quick kisses along his pulse point and his stubbled chin, leaving no part of his skin untouched.

Your fingers ghosted across his arousal, too prominent to ignore it. You’d make quick work with the buttons, releasing him of his confinements. He felt the last of his clothes fall from him, exposing him in his entirety. He didn’t have time to react nor comprehend, as you’d taken his length in your hand without hesitation. A soft groan elicited from him as you smoothed your hand up and down. He could only stand there, allowing your control to flood him completely.

You quickened your pace, his groans only becoming louder. He could absolutely melt from your touch at this point, having gone so long without the company of anyone but his own. His grip on you tightened in need for more. His knees trembled from your thumb running across the head, and he released a shuddering breath.

And then, you stopped. A protest built in his throat as you stepped back, only to beckon him towards the bed. He followed without question, allowing you to push him to sit on the edge. You straddled him to sit daintily on his lap as you pulled him into a deep, heated kiss. Your hand found his length again, languidly stroking him with a light touch. He moaned into your mouth, tongues batting against one another at a slow pace. He could feel your heat on his legs, accompanied by the slight moisture. Daringly reaching down, he found your center without hesitation.

His fingertip encircled your bud. You shuddered on top of him, eliciting a soft moan of your own that sent a rush of fire through his stomach. His strokes hastened, vainly seeking for more of your pleasure. He tantalizingly stroked you with intent to prolong it. He enjoyed listening to you, knowing that he was eliciting such delectation. You ground into his grasp, pressing your torso to his once again. Your touch had become more feverish against him, ripping your lips from his to express yourself with a high mewl. You’d responded with dragging your thumb underneath his pink head, teasing the sensitive skin. He bucked up into your grip with a deep groan.

His fingers idled at your entrance, marveling at your slick. He slid one finger in as he explored your inner walls, stroking against your heat with slow precision. He’d lost count of the years past that he’d touched someone in such a way, although his memory of them was still as clear as day.

You uttered a gasp, a product of him discovering your spot. He curled his finger teasingly within you, adding another for enhanced effect. Soon you were reduced to a writhing mess on his lap, you gripped his shoulder with your free hand until he felt the sting of your nails.

A soft hiss slid across his tongue. The pain was not bothersome, only adding to the growing flames that resided within him. Though with each passing second, his yearning for you only increased. He wanted you, needed you. Years of missed opportunity leading to this moment.

He stared at your face. Cheeks flushed with a beautiful rosy glow, your lips parted and your eyes unable to focus. Because of him. He brought your attention back, one hand resting upon your cheek as your eyes met. He could get lost in how gorgeous yours were.

You seemed to understand him. Unspoken messages passed across an unseen bridge. Clarity formed on your face as you released him, then wrapped your arms around his neck.

Take me.

He held your hips, waiting patiently as you maneuvered yourself over him. As you sunk down, his eyes kept to yours as you began to seat yourself comfortably, a breathless gasp sliding from his mouth. Your inner walls were so hot, so wet…his grip tightened slightly at the sensation, holding himself not to thrust up into you.

Engulfed to the hilt, your hips canted as you began to rhythmically move against him. The ripples that accompanied it were breathtaking, a deep groan emitting from his chest. He couldn’t help but to move along with you, keeping in sync as you danced atop his lap. Your sweet sounds of pleasure were almost musical, filling his mind abuzz.

Your sight lost focus as you threw your head back, calling out his name in such a melody it made him blush. He was doing this to you. Him and only him. He could get lost in your essence just listening to your voice. His lips attached to your heated skin, beginning to slowly leave his marks on you, along your neck and across your collarbones. Your fingers stroked through his hair. You sighed into his ear, every praise and encouragement laced in your voice that seemed foreign to him but encouraging all the same.

Your fingers had brushed across his jaw, offering slight pressure to pull his head up. He met your lidded gaze, face flushed and mouth slightly parted. He understood your notion, his hands slinking up your back to knot into your hair as he drew you in for another kiss. Mixed sounds drowned out against your tongues with your increased pace. A deep groan vibrated in his chest while he hastened to keep up with you.

His lips parted from yours to catch his breath, taking short huffs before his mouth returned to your body. One hand slid around your torso to your breast. He kneaded it gently in his palm, reveling how soft and warm it felt. His mouth occupied your puckered nipple while his teeth grazed over it. You uttered a whine in response, your entire body trembling on top of him. He gave attention to the rest of your body with his other hand, memorizing every curve and swell. Everything about you felt wonderful. He eventually found his way to your core again, running his fingers along your nub to enhance your pleasure. Your moans only grew from there, your nails leaving their own marks on his shoulders.

You gripped him hard, your voice raising an octave. He knew what it meant as he locked gazes with you and he rubbed you faster, coaxing out your climax. It only took a half a moment before every muscle trembled around him, your walls clenching his length as your release overtook you. His name graced your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, dragging your fingers down his back. He shuddered from your touch, your climax almost sending him over the edge.

You panted out the last waves of your peak as your grip loosened from him. You straightened up to stare at him, appearing absolutely drunk with ecstasy and adoration for him. His heart leapt from the sight. He grabbed your waist and lifted you from him, turning to lay on the bed in one smooth motion.

He towered over you, keeping his gaze even with yours. You smiled up at him, a warm and inviting smile as your legs spread for him. He smiled as well, running his hands down your sides to stop at your hips. He carefully lined himself with your folds and pushed forward. A soft groan emanated as he sheathed himself within you once again. A brief moment of pause to relish the feeling of joining together again, Arthur caressed your face, keeping his gaze steady. Your hand covered his, and he began to thrust.

Watching your face contort to your pleasure underneath him was the best thing he’d ever seen.

His hips rolled in an undulating rhythm against you. Your hands found their way to his hair. Unblinking stares settled deep in his soul, afraid to look away as if he’d lose sight of your beauty permanently.

Time was lost to him from how deeply buried he was. His surroundings vanished, only focused on you and you alone. His own name filling his ears soon became his favorite song, wrapped in a melody of your moans and mewls. He watched as a second orgasm took hold of you, visibly waving through your body to expel from your mouth.

It was the most gorgeous form he’d ever seen you in. He felt his own pleasure heighten from just watching you writhe and arch beneath him. The way your walls squeezed him again, it wouldn’t be much longer until he would release himself. But he didn’t want to end it so soon.

Your legs wrapped around him, trapping him to you. It was as if you understood what was coming next. Arthur inhaled sharply, driving himself as far as he could. The fire was growing too quickly, too powerful for him to prolong –

I want you.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the release took hold of his entire body. Every muscle clenched while his climax washed over him, emptying what felt like his soul deep in your core. He groaned loudly, his hips snapping weakly against yours until it ebbed away, opening his eyes to see you again.

Your lips were parted and your cheeks were still flushed with a rosy tint. Your lustful eyes glinted beautifully in the light of the late afternoon. He brought himself down to crush his mouth to yours, eliciting a deep kiss despite the both of you gasping for air.

Hell, he didn’t even care. Your gentle fingers raked through his hair over and over, moaning sweetly and breathlessly against his tongue. His tired arms trembled beneath his weight, and he parted his lips from yours. Fatigue struck him like a bolt, and he dropped his head to rest within the valley of your breasts. He intended to roll off to your side, except you didn’t seem to mind. He felt your lips press against the crown of his head and caress his cheek, bringing a soft smile to his face.

After a few minutes of silence, the reality of what happened soon caught up with him. It didn’t occur to him how much he missed you until this very moment, and how stupid he was to ignore his own pining. He should have tried harder to find you, hell, he should have taken you to be his own ages ago if he weren’t such a coward. How much time he wasted ignoring the obvious.

Gone for months, only to appear once again under his nose.

His fingers lazily trailed up your side. You were real, right here with him. His hand searched for yours and you obliged, entwining your fingers with his. He never wanted to let you go ever again.

---

Arthur awoke with the soft song of crickets just outside the window. As he blinked his bleary eyes, he didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep. The full moon shone through the window, brightening the little cabin with its silver glow. He was still on you, his head was still resting upon your chest, and your deep breathing and slow heartbeat indicated you too were out cold. He shifted himself slightly to look at you, observing your features. His own heart raced just seeing you like that, how beautiful you were even in such a vulnerable state.

His gaze shifted around the cabin. Right at that moment he wanted nothing more than to stay in this cabin with you, to live and sleep and wake up every day to see your lovely face. He wanted it all.

His eyes landed on his gun belt. His Cattleman revolver gleamed brightly and the weight of a harsh reality crashed upon him. As much as he wanted it, he had too much of a responsibility to his gang, his family. It wouldn’t be fair to abandon them now, especially since they were all just getting back on their feet.

He released a silent sigh. Placing a kiss upon your skin, he moved to stand. He hadn’t pulled out prior, and the slightly pleasurable sensation overtaking him nearly made him stop. You shifted as he stood, groaning quietly as his movement aroused you.

“Arthur?” you rasped, your voice heavy with sleep.

His heart sank. He turned slowly to face you and spoke, “I have to go.” Every word felt heavy.

You’d fallen silent. He could see the disappointment and sadness shadowed across your face. You sat up and swung your legs over the side to stand before him. Every curve of you accentuated in the moonlight, illuminating you with an ethereal glow. His hands flexed at his sides, forcing himself to keep from grabbing you.

However, you’d reached forward, taking his hands in your own. He didn’t stop you. “I know you do,” You said quietly, pressing your lips to his hands. “I won’t stop you, as much as I want to.”

His breath caught, thinking back to the argument from earlier. How adamant you were about wanting him to stay. “What changed?” he asked.

You released his hands and stepped back. “You’re an outlaw. No one can tell you what to do.” You answered, a ghost of a smile flitting across your lips.

He’d nearly stepped in sync with you. He however was rooted in the spot, actively arguing with his own conscience. He knew it was the right choice, but damn did it have to hurt this bad?

He turned and silently dressed, collecting his things while he felt your eyes on from the opposite side of the cabin. All the while his mind was yelling at him. Screaming. Demanding he’d stay. Desperately hoping you’d make another attempt. He fought it with gritted teeth as he slung his satchel around his neck and strode over to the door. He rested his hand on the knob and hesitated for a split second.

I love you.

It was such a tiny whisper that he thought he might’ve imagined it. He glanced over his shoulder at you, spotting your silhouette in the darkest corner of the cabin.

His heart plummeted and he opened the door, stepping out into the nocturnal wilderness. As he closed the door behind him, he let out a choked sigh.

I love you too.

---

I’m honestly considering on making this one a trilogy. But before I write anything new, I’m going to work on more of My Little Secret as well as And I’ll Succumb To You. I’ve put off that one especially for a little too long.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #Arthur Morgan

214 notes · View notes

kwanisms · 5 years ago

Text

You Called? - syh

⤑ genre: smut, supernatural au, demon!Johnny ⤑ pairing: demon!Johnny x Reader ⤑ warning: sexual content, choking kink, unprotected demon sex (use protection, kids!), demonic themes, cursing, praise kink, oral (giving & receiving), creampie, slight body worship, use of pet names. ⤑ summary: After your neighbors summon a demon who mistakenly ends up in your apartment instead, he decides to make a deal with you instead. ⤑ word count: 6.2k

a/n: My hand slipped >:) but seriously, this was so much fun to write and is the first of four horror themed stories I’m posting this month for Halloween! Stay tuned for the other three which star other members of NCT, Seventeen, and BTS. Thank you for reading, and I hope you like it!

You sighed leaning back in your chair and stared up at the ceiling. ‘There they go again,’ you thought bitterly. Your neighbors could be heard, yelling. What they were yelling, you weren’t sure. Their words were muffled but they were shouting something and it was starting to get on your nerves.

You have three reports due for work in the morning and you were only halfway done with the second. You needed to finish these if you even hoped to be eligible for the end of the year promotion. You wanted that promotion, you needed that promotion.

You strained your ears as the yelling died down and you closed your eyes, silently thanking them for shutting up. You leaned forward, raising your hands above your keyboard once more to type. Just as you started, a loud chanting started up again and you groaned.

“That’s it,” you said as you pushed your chair back and got up, walking over to the wall and picking up a shoe. You banged on the wall several times before yelling. “Shut the fuck up!!”

It fell silent on the other side. ‘Now stay quiet!’

You sat back down and started typing again. A low rumble in the distance caught your attention and you looked out the window next to your desk to see rain pelting the window. A sense of calm washed over you as the rain fell and you got back to your work, not a peep from next door.

As you finished the final report, there was a shout next door, followed by a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder which made you jump. You looked outside, noticing the flashes in the distance. ‘I thought it was closer than that,’ you thought.

You saved your work, sending the emails to your supervisor who after receiving the reports, hopefully wouldn’t be your supervisor anymore. You shut down your computer and got up, stretching as you did. It was getting late and you needed to get some rest before work in the morning.

You got changed, getting ready for bed before cleaning up the apartment. Once you slid under the covers for the night, it was well past midnight. You closed your eyes, letting your exhaustion wash over you as you drifted off into slumber.

A loud crack of thunder woke you with a start and you sat up, gasping. You rubbed your eyes wondering what that dream you just had was, nearly forgetting all of it the moment you awoke. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ you told yourself and reached for the bottle of water you kept on your nightstand.

Rain pelted your window as you gulped down the cool water and replaced the cap, setting the bottle back on the side table. You were starting to lie back down when something caught your eye. A figure.

You stared at the dark spot in your room. ‘There’s no way,’ you told yourself. ‘It’s just the dark playing tricks on me.’ You bolted upright when a flash of lightning illuminated your room, revealing the dark shadow was not a trick at all. It was a man.

You stared dumbfounded at the spot that was once again thrown into darkness before scrambling for the lamp on your night stand, hoping once you shone light upon the situation, you would be wrong and it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Once the light was on, however, you found it was not your imagination but instead very real.

There was a man in your room and he was watching you with an amused expression on his face, his lips pulled into a lopsided grin. You continued to stare at him, hundreds of questions racing through your mind which was no longer groggy from sleep.

‘How did he get in here?’ ‘Who is he?’ ‘What does he want?’ ‘Why is he staring at me?’ ‘Why doesn’t he say something?’ ‘Should I call the cops?’

All of those were excellent questions, none of which you knew the answers to.

After a few more moments of silence, the man finally spoke.

“You know it’s rude to stare,” he said in a deep voice, sending chills down your spine.

You gasped, now completely acknowledging his existence.

“What do you want?” you whispered. The man just smiles at you. You didn’t like it. His smile. ‘Something is off.’

He didn’t answer you.

“What do you want?” you asked a little louder. The man chuckled, crossing his arms as he leans against your bedroom wall. “You summoned me, remember? I should be asking you what you want,” he said.

You shook your head slowly. “Summoned? I didn’t summon anyone,” you said defiantly. “I was asleep,” you added. The man nodded his head. “You summoned me earlier, Emma,” he said. ‘Emma? Isn’t that my neighbor’s name?’ you wondered.

“You must be mistaken,” you replied. “My name isn’t Emma.” It was the man’s turn to stare at you in disbelief. “You aren’t?” he asked, shocked. You nodded your head. “My name is (Y/N). Emma is my next door neighbor,” you replied. The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh damn it all to hell,” he hissed.

“Your neighbor and her friend summoned me.” You were intrigued.

“Who are you?” you asked again. “I’m a demon,” the man said, lowering his hands and shoving them into his pants pockets. ‘A demon? Yeah right.’

“Sure you are,” you said, rolling your eyes. The man’s smile dropped and he glared at you. The light next to you flickered and you looked at the lamp. ‘Don’t you dare turn off!’ The room started to shake and you looked around, noticing the man’s eyes had now gone completely black and for the briefest moment, his appearance changed before shifting back to what you saw before.

In that split second, he appeared as a much taller figure, human looking but with the lower body of what appeared as a goat with black hair, complete with hooves. His torso was covered in weird symbols that glowed red. Horns had sprouted from his inky black hair and fangs grew from his canines.

And just as quickly as he had changed, he was back to normal. Your heart pounded in your chest. ‘He wasn’t lying! He really is a demon!’ your mind screamed at you, telling you to run away but even if your legs worked and you could run away, he was right by the door. You wouldn’t get very far.

“So, what kind of demon are you?” you asked and the man perked up, his smile back.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked and you nodded slowly. “I’m a demon, and like most demons, I can be summoned to make deals,” he explained, shifting his weight. “But instead of requiring a soul in return for the deal, I require something else,” he said. You tilted your head, watching him. “Like what?” you asked.

“Energy,” he replied. “Energy?” you repeated and he nodded. “Yes. Energy,” he said. “Well, what kind of energy?” you asked again, regretting the moment the answer left his lips. “Sexual energy.”

‘Sexual energy? He has sex with them? Is that why Emma and her friend summoned him?!’ The man must have noticed the look on your face change as your thoughts raced. He chuckled, drawing your attention. You composed yourself before responding. “Then shouldn’t you had over to Emma’s apartment?” you asked.

The man shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that,” he replied. Demons can’t just enter any residence we please. We have to be invited in,” he said. You stared at him in disbelief. “Then how did you end up in my apartment,” you asked. “I certainly didn’t invite you,” you added. The man shook his head.

“I don’t know. This kind of thing doesn’t happen a lot. I must have gotten confused and showed up here by mistake,” he said. “Then leave?” you asked and he shook his head. “I can’t leave empty handed,” he said. “I came here to make a deal and those are the rules. I have to leave with something,” he said and you suddenly found yourself nervous and very afraid.

“Is there perhaps something you want?” he asked and your eyes snapped up to meet his, no longer black but a soft brown instead. ‘Was this some kind of trick?’ you asked yourself. You shook your head no. “No, nothing,” you replied. He cocked his head to the side, smirking at you.

“Nothing at all, (Y/N)?” he repeated. “Money? Fame?” You shook your head vigorously. You just wanted him to leave so you could go back to sleep. “Not even…” the man said, watching you with his scorching gaze.

“A promotion?” he whispered and your heart rattled against your ribcage. ‘Fuck! How did he know?’

The man smiled like he just won the biggest prize. “Looks like there is something we want,” he said as he crossed the room to sit on the edge of your bed. “I can make that promotion happen, (Y/N),” he whispered, watching you closely. ‘No. Not like this.’ You shook your head. “I’ve almost already got it. I don’t need to make a deal. I don’t want whatever strings that come with that, no thank you,” you said quickly.

The man shook his head. “No strings, I promise. I don’t make deals like that. I’m not one of those demons,” he said. You hesitated. ‘No strings? No funny business? Just sex and then I get a promotion?’ you thought.

“Sounds too good to be true,” you said and the man smiled. “I know it does but hear me out. I give you a promotion, hassle free, and you get some amazing sex. It’s kind of a win-win situation for you,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as your mind reeled.

“I won’t get pregnant with some hybrid demon baby, right?” you asked and he burst into laughter. “Definitely not. Only Boss Man can do that,” he replies. You gave him a quizzical look. “Boss Man?” you asked. His smile widened. “You know. Old Lucy? Lucifer? Your kind sometimes calls him Satan,” he said. ‘Holy shit.’

You sat there for a few more minutes before he cleared his throat. “So, do we have a deal?” he asked and you looked up, locking eyes with him. “Will you stay in that form?” you asked and he nodded. “Of course. I don’t want to scare you off,” he said with a chuckle.

You stared at him a bit longer before shrugging. “Oh what the hell,” you said and he cracked a wide toothy grin. “Shake on it,” he said holding his hand out. You hesitated, looking at his hand. ‘Is this a good idea?’ you wondered but immediately reached out, taking his hand and shook it once.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he said, still holding your hand. “Nice to meet you, Johnny,” you said, baffled by the situation at hand. You were introducing yourself to a demon you were about to have sex with for a promotion at your job. ‘Could things get any weirder?’

“The pleasure is mine, (Y/N),” he said before pulling his hand away and standing up. He removed his jacket, throwing it on the chair in the corner as the storm picked back up outside, wind whipping the rain around. You watched as he loosen the tie around his neck and took the opportunity to let your eyes wander.

You noticed his height of course, but what you hadn’t noticed, probably because of the jacket, was his broad shoulders and small waist. He had strong muscular thighs hidden beneath tight black ripped jeans. He wore a black button down shirt, tucked into his pants with a black tie and following the color scheme, he wore black combat boots.

You watched as he tossed the tie on top of his jacket and sat back down to remove his boots, setting those aside. He undid a couple buttons on his shirt before turning to you, his stare causing you to blush. Are you going to just sit there and watch me?” he asked. You looked down at your sheets, avoiding his gaze. You heard him chuckle and felt the bed dip as he climbed onto your mattress.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ you asked yourself as he approached you, one of his hands gently taking your chin and tilting your head back to look up at him. He gave you a wickedly sweet smile, one that had your head spinning.

His close proximity and commanding aura, mixed with the scent of whatever cologne he might be wearing had your body heating up as your heart raced. ‘What the hell?’

Johnny moved his hand, smoothing it down the front of your throat, stopping at your chest, palm pressed flat before he slowly pushed you back into your pillows. Your wide eyes watched as he pulled back your covers, revealing your pajamas. A plain tee shirt and rather short shorts.

His smile grew as his eyes traveled down your body. Nudging your thighs apart, he moved between your legs, settling himself there as his hands, unsurprisingly cool, slid up your thighs slowly, sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to rise.

You let out a shaky breath as he leaned in closer and closer until his lips were mere inches from yours.

“You do know once started, I will not stop,” he whispered. “You made a deal,” he reminded you.

With a nod of your head, you acknowledge that you had made your bed, metaphorically speaking. Johnny smiled even wider, his eyes dipping to your lips and back up before closing the distance between you and pressing his lips against yours.

The moment his lips met yours, something inside you flipped and a growing desire settled in your belly, warmth spreading throughout your body as his lips moved against yours, parting slightly.

You felt his tongue dart past your lips, exploring thoroughly. His hands didn’t stop wandering, one gripped your hip firmly while the other toyed with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath.

Your body squirmed involuntarily at his cold hand tickling up your stomach. You moaned against his lips as his hand cupped your breast and he smiled into the kiss. “Ooh, I like that,” Johnny said, referring to the sound you made. He withdrew his hand from your shirt, pulling you up to discard your top and looking down to admire.

You felt exposed, watching the way he eyed you before he pushed you back down, laying on top of you, careful not to crush you with his full weight. Pressing light kisses down your neck and collar, he stopped at your chest, glancing up at you through his lashes before taking one of your pert nipples into his mouth.

One of your hands moved, fingers threading through his hair, back arching. "Oh fuck," you moaned. Johnny smirked, moving his hand from your hip, snaking between the two of you to slip under the waistband of your shorts.

You let out a gasp as his fingers slowly stroked you through your panties, pressing the material into your growing wetness. "So wet already?" he whispered. "I've barely even started, baby." You let out a whine at his words.

"What is it?" he teased. "Please," you breathed, your body feeling feverish as you looked up at him. "Please touch me," you said, throwing all shame out the window. Johnny smirked.

"I am touching you," he said. "Please, don't tease me," you whispered. Johnny's smirk grew as his fingers pushed your panties out of the way, fingers finding your folds slick with your arousal and pushed past them, toying with your entrance.

He seemed to hesitate but as you were about to ask what the matter was, his fingers slid inside you unrestricted. You let out a low moan, gasping when you felt him curl his fingers inside against your walls.

Johnny chuckled as he watched your face with fascination. "You humans are so predictable," he whispered. You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but all you could muster was a whimper as he pressed his thumb against your clit, massaging in small fast circles as his fingers worked inside you.

"I bet I could make you come so fast just by doing this," he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. "Would you like that, baby?" he asked, his voice sending chills down your spine again. He chuckled darkly. "You don't even have to answer me."

He pressed his thumb harder against your clit, massaging faster as his fingers curled faster inside, bringing you closer to your orgasm. Your hand that wasn't in his hair gripped your bed linens beneath you, your breath coming out in short gasps.

Your body started to shake as your orgasm kept building, heat gathering in your abdomen until you reached your breaking point and came with a cry, your walls convulsing around Johnny's fingers as the heat in your stomach exploded, spreading to the other parts of your body.

Johnny smiled, his lips brushing against your neck as he pulled his head back to look at you. "That was easy," he mused but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Not when you were so high up on cloud nine.

Johnny withdrew his fingers from your core, leaving you feeling empty. You tried to open your eyes but you were too tired. You felt Johnny get up, taking the warmth of his body with him.

Forcing your eyes open, you saw Johnny had removed your shorts and panties and repositioned himself, his head now between your thighs. "Wait," you breathed, wanting to ask for a reprieve but he ignored your pleas, instead pushing your thighs apart, his tongue licking up your sex that was coated in your own climax.

He didn't seem to mind as he continued, his tongue finding your clit briefly, pulling away after a moment to kiss the inside of your thigh. You glanced down at him, propping yourself up to get a better look. He was placing light kisses on your inner thigh, his tongue running over the soft flesh before he sank his teeth in.

You let out a moan as he latched on, only pulling away when he was satisfied with the mark he left behind. He continued this all over the inside of your thigh before moving to the other thigh, leaving plenty of bite marks, proving he had been there.

"Johnny," you whispered, drawing his attention. "Hmm?" he hummed in response. "I need you," you breathed, heart pounding, sending blood rushing through your body. A blush settled on your cheeks and the demon between your legs couldn't help but smile.

He loved the reactions of human women when they became weak for him. He chose his path well. "You need me, huh?" he asked, lips twitching into a mischievous smirk. You nodded, having already have thrown all shame out. "Yes," you replied.

Johnny shook his head. "Not yet," he said, moving his face closer to your dripping pussy. "I'm not done here," he added, licking you again, the tip of his tongue finding your clit quickly and mercilessly began teasing and toying with it.

Your body threatened to thrash against the sheets, thighs wanting to close but he held you down with incredible strength, keeping your thighs apart easily as he continued his assault.

It didn't take long for you to see stars as your second orgasms.washed over you thanks to his expert tongue. He didn't stop there and soon your third high washed over you, your body twitching as you tried to shy away, your core wrought with sensitivity.

"Please!" you whimpered. "I can't!" Johnny finally pulled away, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "You can't?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "You're already spent?" he asked. You hesitated to answer. If you said yes would he leave? You didn't want him to leave.

You watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, eyes never leaving yours. Once undone, he pulled it off and threw it aside. Your eyes wandered taking in his toned torso before you realized he was reaching for his pants, unzipping them.

He smiled at you watching his every move. "Like what you see?" he asked, causing the blush on your cheeks to deepen. Johnny held back a chuckle as he finished undoing his pants and pushed them, along with his underwear down, discarding them quickly.

You tried not to stare but you couldn't help yourself. Your eyes went straight to his hard cock, taking in the sight of it standing before you. He was much bigger than you had anticipated although, you hadn't really given it too much thought as your mind had been a little too preoccupied earlier.

"Are you just going to stare?" he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts and back to reality. You sat up slowly, watching him as you moved. He said nothing as you moved closer, eyeing him. Your hand reached out apprehensively, until your fingers brushed against him.

His cock was hard and hot in your hand. He let out a soft hiss at the contact between his length and your soft hand. "Can I ask you something?" you whispered, glancing up at him. He nodded, watching you curiously, wondering what you were thinking.

"Please be gentle with me," you said softly. "Don't hurt me." Something inside Johnny found this newfound fear kind of endearing but he nodded. "My goal isn't to scare you, (Y/N)," he said reassuringly. "It's to make you feel good," he added as he guided you back to the middle of your mattress, pushing you back against the sheets.

He knelt between your thighs, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your entrance. "You have nothing to worry about," he repeated, rubbing your thigh gently, taking his girth in his other hand and guiding himself, aligning with your slit.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he repeated, locking eyes with you as he pushed past your folds. The tip of his cock slid into you easily but your body visibly stiffened and Johnny halted. "If you don't relax," he said softly, his hand in your thigh caressing it gently. "This'll hurt a lot."

You took a few calming breaths, trying to force your muscles to relax.

Once he was satisfied you had calmed down enough, Johnny continued, pushing further into you. You let out a moan as he slid unrestricted into your core, the girth of his cock stretching you slightly as he filled you in a way you'd never experienced.

Johnny’s eyes were on your face as he slid in, inch by inch. Humans, predictable as they were, he still found them to be beautiful in a way, especially the women. He didn’t have a preference. He found himself to be enamored in their bodies. Demon’s may appear to be similar to humans but they were very different.

Human’s were soft, fragile, and forgiving. They were easy to manipulate. Johnny however could never bring himself to manipulate the women. Men he had no issue with, but women? They were something else to him. He thoroughly enjoyed every sexual encounter he had with human women. He loved it.

His eyes trailed down your body as thoughts filled his mind. “Beautiful,” he breathed, just barely loud enough for you to hear. “You’re so beautiful.” You weren’t sure if he actually said that or if your mind was playing tricks on you. His hand that wasn’t holding your thigh, reached out to press against your stomach, sliding down toward your heat, stopping just past your navel.

He pressed down as he slid into you, earning a whimper from you. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he said a little louder, you eyes meeting his. He was a demon, complimenting your body, calling you beautiful. ‘Was this normal? What even is normal? I’m having sex with a demon, I don’t know what normal is anymore,’ you told yourself.

"Shit," you cursed as he bottomed out, his length buried completely inside you. It took only a moment for you to adjust fully before Johnny began moving, slowly at first. He pulled out only a bit before pushing back into you, testing the waters and how far he could go.

He pulled back and snapped his hips forward, earning a moan from you. He watched you as he continued, thrusting slowly and shallowly into you, and is lips parted slightly. He liked the way you threw your head back with each thrust, eyes shut as you enjoyed the feeling of his throbbing cock inside you.

He liked the way your breasts bounced with each thrust that slowly grew with intensity as he himself felt his own orgasm building inside. He liked the way your cheeks were dusted with that pinkish red hue. Blushing, humans called it. And he especially liked how your teeth sank into your plush bottom lip slightly, except it held back all sound.

He couldn't have that.

Johnny's hands moved, taking your hips as he started thrusting faster, hitting deeper into you. "Oh fuck," you hissed, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he pounded into you. He let out a soft chuckle, your eyes meeting his. “You take me so well,” he whispered, causing you to blush deeper and advert your eyes.

Johnny laughed, turning into a soft groan as your walls clenched around him slightly.

"You humans are so small, fragile, tight," Johnny said in a low voice with a slight growl to it that had your walls clenching around him. You let out a whine, your breaths coming out in short pants.

The only sounds in the room were sound of skin against skin and your shallow breathing mixed with a few whimpers and moans, intermittently. Your fourth orgasm was approaching quickly and before you could alert Johnny, you came with a cry, your walls tightening.

Johnny continued on, seemingly unaffected by your fourth climax of the night. Instead, he moved to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you up as he laid back on the mattress. "Ride me," he said.

Despite having come four times already, you found a sense of urgency and renewed strength and complied, rolling your hips against his quickly, moaning as his shaft rubbed against your sweet spot with every movement. Johnny's now free hands traveled your body.

He slid his hands up your thighs to your hips, continuing up your torso until they reached your breasts. He cupped them, squeezing gently. He sat up quickly, startling you but your hips only faltered for a moment. His lips wrapped around one of your sensitive nipples, tongue flicking against it as he sucked.

Your hands moved from his shoulders into his hair, tugging slightly as you started lifting your hips, slamming back down on him, your moans bouncing off the walls. Johnny released your chest, his lips traveling up the side of your neck until they reached your ear.

"Keep riding me like that and I'll bend you over this bed and fuck you like the dirty slut you are," he growled and your legs grew weak, unable to keep up with your rhythm. Johnny chuckled, nipping at your earlobe. "Damn," he said softly. "I really wanted to bend you over," he teased. You hummed in response, pressing your chest against his.

"Do it," you egged him on. "Do what?" he asked. "Bend me over the bed," you whispered. "Make me you little slut." Johnny didn't need to be told twice, he pushed you off him, slipping out of you. In a flash he was on his feet next to the bed. You felt him grab your ankle and grad you across the sheets until your legs dangled over the edge of your bed, ass on full display for him.

He let out a growl, his hand coming into contact with your ass, a sharp sting rippling through your body. You buried your face into the sheets and moaned into the bed. Johnny wasted no time, lining his cock with your entrance once more and pushed into you easily.

You moaned again as he thrusted into you from behind, hard. His hands held your hips in place as he rammed into you from behind. You bit into your sheets to keep from screaming in pleasure but Johnny wouldn't let you off so easily. He leaned over your back, his chest pressed into you from behind as he thrust deeply into you.

"Don't muffle your moans, baby. I want the whole building to hear you. I want them all to know how good I fuck you.” You whined at his words, fingers tightening around the handfuls of sheets you held. “I want them to know how well to take my cock and what a needy little girl you are." You opened your mouth, letting out the loudest moan of the night. Johnny smirked standing up straight. "That's better."

He was relentless, slamming into you. Your moans turned into cries and before long, you were screaming, his name rolling off your tongue like a mantra. He loved every second of it. He loved bending people to his will. It was intoxicating to him. The power he had.

You reached your fifth ordeal soon and clung to the sheets for dear life as you raced toward your sixth. You blacked out after a wave of pleasure rocked your body, wondering how much longer you'd have to endure this. You couldn't keep up with him. He had too much stamina.

You came to just before your seventh orgasm and he showed no sign of strolling anytime soon. "How much longer can you keep going?" you asked, tears rolling down your cheeks from the immense pleasure coursing through your body. Johnny chuckled breathlessly as he fucked you against the mattress.

"I can go on all night, baby," he said, one of his hands moving to grab the back of your neck, slowing his pace into a languid and deep roll. “Especially when you take me so well,” he added. “I don’t think anyone has been this good.” Your chest swelled with pride at his words. “Am I the best?” you whispered and he nodded before adding “yes, you are babe.” His aim was true as his cock hit you in all the right places.

Your eyes rolled back slightly as you let out a deep moan from the back of your throat. Your arousal coated the inside of your thighs and had dripped down onto your bedsheets, also stained with your cum that was seeping out of you.

"I'm so tired," you cried, tears still spilling. Johnny smiled as he continued to roll his hips, angling his thrusts against your sweet spot. "At least you don't have to move," he teased before picking up the pace and thrusting into you again. With each thrust, you let out a muffled cry, your tear stained face buried in the sheets again.

You felt his fingers curl into the hair at the base of you neck and he pulled your head up from the sheets. "I told you I want everyone to hear you," he growled, slamming into you. A cry left your lips as you gripped the sheets desperately.

Johnny could feel he was reaching his own climax but he was determined to make you come one last time before he came.

His hand in your hair moves around to wrap around your throat, gently pressing the sides of your neck. You let out a gasp, one hand moving to grab his wrist, not to pull his hand away, just to hold on.

He pounded into you, his primal instinct kicking in. You were at his mercy, whimpers leaving your lips, only to be met by his growls. It was like an animal had taken over. Your only choice was to ride it out.

His thrusts grew sloppy and less well aimed as he sprinted toward the finish line, taking you with him. You listened as his pants turned into groans which became moans as he approached his own orgasm.

With one final thrust, he came undone, spilling his seed inside you, painting your walls in searing hot white. The stretch of him filling you with his release pushed you over the edge of your eighth and final orgasm and you cried out in ecstasy, white blinding your vision.

Your body slumped against your stained sheets as Johnny's hips faltered, coming to a stop, his cock still buried deep inside you. Your body twitched slightly, feeling his cum spill out of you and drip down the side of your bed. A right mess had been made.

With a hiss, Johnny pulled out of you, watching as more cum spilled out of you, some landing on the hardwood floor. He took several deep breaths to.steady himself before he disappeared into your bathroom, cleaning himself off. He returned, finding you in the same position.

He pulled his clothes back on silently before disappearing into your bathroom again. He came back with a wet cloth and despite his better judgement, helped clean you off. It was his fault you were so tired. He did go just a tad bit too rough on you, he knew that. 'Oops.'

You felt a warm wet cloth brush against the inside of your thighs and then against your core, cleaning you off and removing any remnants of cum or your own arousal. Johnny let out a soft chuckle as he gently picked you up, setting you down on the clean side of your bed.

"Why are.you being so nice?" you asked, your voice hoarse. "Because, I may he a demon, but I'm not a monster," he replied softly, pulling the sheets up over you. He leaned down, his lips inches from your ear. "Congratulations on your promotion," he whispered.

You awoke with a start, sitting up, your eyes adjusting to your surroundings. The sun had just started to rise, turning the sky a pretty periwinkle. You look around, your eyes landing on your alarm clock. The time read 5:43 am. You let out a sigh. 'It must have been a dream,' you thought as you pulled back your sheets.

You got up, your legs a bit wobbly and your thighs rather achy and sore but made your way into.your bathroom. You turned on the shower and discarded your pajamas, stepping into the glass walled room, the tile cool against your feet as the scorching hot water soothed your aching muscles and woke you up.

After washing and getting out, you wrapped yourself in a fuzzy robe.and headed into the kitchen. You were greeted by the smell of your automatic coffee maker, smiling as the aroma filled your senses. Despite your weird dream and unusually aching muscles, you felt like today was going to be a good day.

You got ready for work, getting dressed and walking out the door with a bounce in your step. The elevator arrived to your floor promptly and you headed down for the lobby of your building, calling out a cheerful good morning to the overnight security guard.

You made your daily commute to work, arriving with ample time to spare, a rare occurrence. You clocked in your time, put your things at your desk and decided to drop by your supervisor's office, to make sure he got your late night email.

"Ah! (Y/N)," he said with a smile. "Just the person I wanted to see," he added, motioning for you to come in. You shut the door behind you and took a seat across from him. "I got your email last night. Excellent work on those reports," he said. "Top notch," he added.

"I've been noticing your drive and determination to get things done around here," he said, looking at you with a bright smile. "And so have the higher ups," he added. Your heart swelled in your chest. 'Wait, is this it?' you thought. 'Am I getting promoted?!'

"I want to be the first to congratulate you on moving up, (Y/N)," he said excitedly. "You and I will be working together to ensure our teams work hard to make this place a better work environment. With your hard work ethic, brilliant ideas, and fresh views, we're going to accomplish so much," he said standing and holding out his hand.

You stood and took it, shaking it. Something about the scenario felt very familiar as a sense of deja vu washed over you. Your supervisor seemed unfazed as he smiled widely at you, opening his mouth to speak, uttering a familiar phrase that sent chills up your spine.

Words that brought back memories of the night before. Your stomach churned as you remembered the demon you went to bed with and how you had made a deal. 'It wasn't my hard work,' you thought bitterly. 'It was him.' Visions of a certain smile clouded your mind.

The feeling of his weight on top of you. How he thrusted into you with such intensity and how he brought you to your knees so easily and made you bed for him. How desperate he made you. How… animalistic he behaved. Your stomach churned again, beating your supervisor utter the same words Johnny had said in parting to you.

"Congratulations on your promotion."

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 4 years ago

Text

Final Frontier: Unwanted Job Chapter 2

Alright guys this is the second chapter, and if y’all have any questions about the fic or anything mentioned in the fic let me know. I will eventually make some background story for Cait/Queen, but it will probably come in bits and pieces. I’m also going to say there is going to be a lot of pining between Queen and Catfish! Warnings: Alcohol, Blood, Cursing, Violence, mentions of death, past relationship abuse and PTSD.

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Sounds of clanking plates and the smell of food is what woke Cait from her sleep. She rubbed her eyes and looked towards the open kitchen that was under the loft. Catfish was making food and Benny was serving it on plates. They were also talking in hushed whispers, and every once in a while she would hear her name. She quietly got up and stalked towards the kitchen. “Good morning Queen”, Benny said over his shoulder. “Good morning”, Cait smirked.

“Catfish’s menu consists of biscuits and gravy with bacon”, Benny announced. “Smells good Fish. I didn’t know you could cook”, she beamed. Catfish turned and smiled at her, “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me Reina”. Cait shivered as he put some spanish in his sentence. She would never truly admit it, but she loved when he spoke spanish and how easily it rolled out of his mouth. As she watched his muscles move under his black shirt she noticed Benny. He was out of Catfish’s line of sight and thank God he was.

Benny was rolling his hips and making an ass slapping motion in front of his crotch. “You okay there Ben?”, Ironhead asked as he made his way out of the guest room. Benny immediately stopped as Catfish turned around only seeing Benny standing there looking ashamed and Queen blushing like mad. “Do I even want to know?”, Catfish questioned with the cock of his brow. “NO! I mean...no he was just being an ass”, she told him. “So where is the coffee?” Ironhead asked, trying to change the subject.

“Here I’ll get it”, Cait said as she went to the cabinets. She reached up into the cabinet to start searching for the coffee grounds. Catfish was watching out of the corner of his eye as she reached farther into the cabinet. Her ass was so enticing to stare at, and he would have continued to stare if it wasn’t for Ironhead clearing his throat and motioning him to go help her. Cait almost jumped when she felt Catfish come up behind her and press against her.

He pulled the coffee grounds down and handed them to her. “Thank you”, she gratified. “Your welcome”, he smiled. He went back to the stove to continue cooking as Cait started the coffee. “Ya know Pope and Redfly need to get up and eat. There is plenty of work that needs to be done around the ranch”, she announced. Benny grinned as he slipped towards the guest room. Once he slipped in they could hear shouts from Pope and then from Redfly.

Benny came bounding out of the room as Pope and Redfly came barging out of the room. “Look fellas Queen said you all needed to get up”, Benny told them as he pulled Queen in front of himself. “What for? We don’t leave for the next couple days?”, Pope groaned. “Because you babies agreed in exchange for crashing at my place that y’all would help me with ranch chores”, she stated with her arms crossed. “You can’t be serious”, Redfly said. “Oh I’m dead serious”, Cait grinned. Once everyone had finished their breakfast she gave them each a list of things that needed to be done.

“Benny you have cleaning Chief and Takoda’s stalls and putting in fresh shavings if they need it, and to fill up their water tanks and put hay in the hay holders for them. Ironhead you will man the four wheeler with the trailer on the back where you will take Redfly to the trees I felled in the past weeks. Redfly will take the chainsaw and cut up said trees. Then you can haul it back to the barn for the log splitter. Pope you will be manning the log splitter, it’s super easy, and I’ll show how to start it before I leave”, she explained.

“Okay. What about Catfish and you?”, Benny asked, smirking. “Me and Cat are going to take Chief and Takoda to ride the fence line and make repairs where needed and to check the creeks to make sure they haven’t frozen over. If they have then when we get back I’ll have to get the big tanks out and put them out for the cattle”, she explained as she grabbed her jacket. “Oh and I would dress warmly boys it snowed last night”, she told them.

She shrugged on her coat only to turn around to look at the guys. “Come on you lazy shits lets go”, she berated. They quickly went to get their things and headed out to the barn to start the day. She got everything together that Ironhead and Redfly would need, and loaded it onto the trailer. Once they headed out she showed Pope how to man the log splitter and where to stack the pieces after they were split. Then she showed Catfish how to brush Chief and pick his hooves. Then she went to start on Takoda, and he was already waiting at his stall door for the day.

Once she had groomed her horse and made sure Catfish did a good job on Chief she showed him how to saddle him and put the bridle on. Catfish watched in absolute wonder and some apprehension. “Look, you need to relax. These guys are mustangs that I broke. You have to trust them because if not they spook at every little thing. Just relax. Besides I gave you the older one because he is a bit calmer”, she laughed.

“He was once wild?”, Catfish questioned. “Yepp I went out and got him from the Bureau of Land Management when they had a round up day. He was the only Grulla stallion that stood out to me so I took him. He has been very easy going since I got him. Takoda the sorrel over there that I’ll be riding is still young and feisty at times that’s who I’ll be riding”, she smiled. “Do you think you can handle it?”, she asked, biting her lip. “Yeah I think I can handle it”, he nodded.

Cait led her horse out with Cat leading his out as well. “Alright get on from his left side just like this”, she instructed as she showed him. He put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up and onto the back of the horse. Cait mounted her horse and looked at Catfish to instruct him how to hold the reins in one hand and how to steer and how to make him move forward. He was definitely out of his comfort zone, but after a few practice rounds he had relaxed much to Cait’s delight.

“Alright so we will start at the fence here and make our way to the four separate pastures”, she pointed out. “Alright hermosa lead the way”, he hummed. With that she gave leg pressure and took off at a canter. Chief not wanting to be left behind sped up to a canter as well to keep up. Cait couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her when she looked back to see the look of panic on his face. “Relax and ride him like you would a rocking horse. Rock your hips”, she instructed.

Finally he straightened his posture and started to ride better. It was a nice cool day and by mid day she found that the creeks hadn’t frozen over yet. “So where did you learn all this? I mean I know your family owned a ranch, but what made you buy one yourself”, Catfish asked her. “Well honestly I missed home and the good days work. So I decided to have all this built with the money I had. It keeps me busy, and it keeps me in shape”, she commented.

“Don’t you get lonely out here though?”, he inquired. “Sometimes I do, but not a lot of men are willing to date or settle down with a woman who is so independent”, Cait mumbled. “Well they are idiots. A woman like you is hard to come by and great when you need help”, he praised. He noticed the way her cheeks flushed at the praise he had given her. “I mean I would love to have a normal ranch life. Hell the thought of having children scares me, but if I were with the right man that was supportive and there for me I would gladly settle down, but I just don’t think that I would find that out here ya know”, she ranted.

“Sure men may be a little intimidated by a woman who is independent, but I don’t think that is the sole reason”, he said. “What do you mean?”, Cait asked looking down at a piece of fencing that was down. “Maybe they just don’t know how to take care of you and take care of you or what you really need”, he mused. She mulled it over in her head as she got down and grabbed the tools she would need from her saddle bag. “Oh and what would I need Fish?”, she grunted as she mended the fence.

“Maybe a man who could cook and help you with chores. A man who could make you smile without having to do anything. Someone who will treat you as an equal and not just like he owns you”, he starts but falls silent when Cait stiffens. “I don’t think any of those things are the main reason”, she huffed. “What do you mean?”, he asks. “I...well lets just say I have trust issues and that's the true reason I haven’t met anyone”, she hurriedly stated.

Catfish could tell that she was different as her horse nudged her. She had fallen silent after that statement and seemed to fold in on herself. They rode in silence for a while as he tried to figure out what to say to her, but nothing came to mind. They mended a couple more places, and finally finished around two in the afternoon. “Cait do you want to talk about it”, he asked as they untacked the horses and brushed them out and put them in their stalls. The others had made it back earlier and were finishing up.

When she didn’t answer he grabbed her arm to get her attention, but the look of horror that crossed her face and the flinching as if he would strike her had him reeling back as if touching her had burned. Her breathing quickened and she stumbled backwards away from him. “Queen it’s okay. Hermosa whats wrong?”, he questioned. She ran from him towards the open fields, and it wasn’t a moment later that Benny had him pinned against the barn wall. “What the hell did you do to her Fish!” Benny yelled. “I didn’t do anything. I swear I just grabbed her arm and she flinched back like I was going to hit her”, he said with a pained look.

“Shit!”, Benny cursed. He dropped Catfish and sprinted out to look for you. Ironhead came up beside Catfish, and grasped his shoulder. “We need to go after her because she looked like she was on the verge of an attack”, he concernedly stated. “Look there is something I need to tell you about Cait. Benny is the best at helping her through something like this. Come on let's get inside and I’ll tell you all about it”, Ironhead informed.

Once inside Ironhead helped get lunch together and sat down at the island bar to explain things. “After we got back from the last job a year ago Cait started dating this guy. At first me and Benny liked him. He seemed able to take care of her and be her rock when she needed him. She was suffering from PTSD, and at first he handled it well. Then the verbal abuse started and we started to notice. Then they took a two week vacation and when they came back Fish...she...man she was covered in bruises and had broken ribs”, Ironhead relayed.

“Why didn’t she call one of us or leave that puta”, Fish growled. Just thinking of a man saying anything to her or hitting her made his blood boil. “I don’t know I think she had just convinced herself that this was how things would be for her because of the PTSD she was having. Anyway it took two months before we convinced her to leave him. When he found out he tried to commit suicide with her in the car. He drove into a frozen lake. If it hadn’t been for some people who saw the incident she would have died”, Ironhead continued.

“Ese hijo de puta”, Catfish swore. “Well I said he tried to commit suicide he succeeded, and she hasn’t dated anybody since”, Ironhead finished. “That’s what she meant earlier when she said she had a hard time trusting men, and no wonder she ran”, he huffed. They all started to worry when Benny came back when it started to get dark. He was carrying Cait and she was limp which caused all of them to quickly make room for her by the fire. “I found her lying in the snow under one of the trees by the farthest creek”, Benny told them.

“She’s freezing”, Pope said as he felt her head. “We need blankets and lots of pillows hurry”, Catfish ordered. Everyone looked at him with shock. Catfish was always reserved and took a back seat in situations like these, but they quickly fell out of their shocked state when he yelled at them to get moving. Every blanket and pillow in the house was put in a pallet by the fire, and they all watched as Catfish watched over her. She started to stir a little, and when she opened her eyes they all breathed a sigh of relief.

“You scared me hermosa. How are you feeling?”, he asked her. “Cold and hungry”, she whispered in a hoarse voice. Benny scrambled to make some soup as Catfish pulled her out of the blankets only to pull her into his lap, and cover them both with the blanket. She was still shivering and her skin was like ice. “We need to get you out of your wet clothes hermosa”, he told her. “My clothes are upstairs in my dresser”, she said shakily. He stood up with her and carried her up the stairs.

“Do you think you can undress and redress yourself?”, Catfished questioned. She tried a couple of times, but her shivering made it too difficult. “Is it okay if I help you?”, he asked soothingly. One harsh shiver wracked her body as she chewed her lip in contemplation. “Yeah it’s okay”, she nodded. Making sure his movements were slow and soft in order to not spook her again, he peeled her jacket off. He tossed it over the railing where he could hear Redfly bitch about getting hit in the face with a soaking wet jacket.

Redfly’s rant made her giggle, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Next he slowly pulled her boots off and set them near the stairs. Next came her shirt and under armour that he pulled off slowly. Once she was free of her shirts he tried to avert his eyes away from her breasts that were being caged in by a black push up bra. His gaze wandered over the newly exposed skin and he saw old scars and some that looked newer.

How many of those had been given by that bastard you had called a boyfriend once. He tried to focus again and helped her out of her jeans and socks. “I think you're blushing Fish”, she chuckled then shivered. That shiver wasn’t due to the cold though it was because of the brush of his hands along her ribcage. “Do you think you can do the rest?”, he questioned. You watched how he seemed to get nervous as his Adam's apple bobbed. “I think so, but what if I need help”, she breathed.

“I’ll sit on the top stair facing away, but if you need me I’ll help”, he whispered. “Such a gentleman”, she sighed. He smirked but turned to sit on the top stair as she managed her sports bra and panties. Once she was naked she pulled fresh panties, a button up flannel shirt and sweats on. Fish would be lying if he said he didn’t peak when she was buttoning her shirt up. Once she was dressed he helped her downstairs where Benny had some chicken noodle soup waiting in a bowl. Redfly and Pope retired to their rooms once they knew she was going to be alright.

“I’m off to bed. Benny you should too it’s been a long day”, Ironhead told him. “No that’s okay I think I’m going to stay up a little while”, Benny told him. Cait didn’t see the look that Ironhead gave his brother of they need to work this out get the fuck out of here. Benny finally caught on and said his goodnights and tried to act like he nodded off to sleep. “Look about earlier I’m sorry”, Catfish apologized. “It isn’t your fault I shouldn’t have acted like a scared child”, Cait responded.

“No you had every right after what you have been through”, he stated. A look of horror crossed her face knowing that he now knew of why she acted the way she had. “Hermosa the boys told me everything and no man should ever have done the things he did to you. If I would have known what was happening I would have come to get you”, he said hanging his head. “But you didn’t know. Don’t beat yourself up over my mistakes”, she consoled. “No hermosa. Never ever think that it was your fault for what happened. He wasn’t a man he was a coward”, Catfish spat angrily then softened when he saw your frown.

“You should get some sleep”, she told him. “And so should you”, he retorted playfully. Cait started to walk toward the pallet on the floor she had made the night before, but she was scooped up by strong arms. She squealed as Catfish lifted her into his arms bridal style and carried her upstairs. “You will sleep in your own bed tonight”, he stated matter of factly. “But I will not have you sleeping on the floor”, she protested. “Fine then we can share the bed”, he shrugged.

“Well you have seen me half naked so what's the harm right”, she laughed nervously. “I promise hermosa I will stay on my side as long as you stay on your side”, he laughed. She never realized how much she loved his boyish laugh until now. He deposited her onto her side of the bed and then he lay on the other covering them both. “I wonder what the guys will think of us sharing a bed”, she joked. “We will probably never hear the end of it”, he joked back.

Sleep found both of them rather fast that night. Down in the main area Benny was trying to contain his giddiness of what he just witnessed a few minutes ago. Cait had seemed so happy in his arms, and Fish seemed in such high spirits too. He enjoyed seeing her so open with someone since her ex and he would be damned if he was going to let anything or anyone come between them. Besides she just admitted that Fish had seen her half naked, and the icing on the cake was they were sharing a bed.

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Oh my gosh guys this one was long, but I figured that I would give some background on Cait. This is my first time really writing about this kind of stuff so don’t judge me. Hope you all enjoy these as I will keep posting them as long as I have ideas and I have so many for Catfish and Queen.

#triple frontier #frankie morales #catfish morales #catfish x oc #tom redfly davis #santiago pope garcia #ben benny miller #william ironhead miller #pining is strong #two idiots in love

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newobsessioneveryweek · 5 years ago

Text

Sleep

I had LOADS of fun writing this 10k masterpiece with @jinmukangwrites. She’s an amazing writer and if you haven’t heard of her I suggest you check out her blog.

Inspired by a post made on @linkeduniversetweets (asked by @toschiworlds)

Brief spoiler-free summary: The Links spend a few days at Lon Lon Ranch during which Time manages to get himself concussed.

Enjoy

The Links had endured countless battles, vicious monsters, cascades of blood, and cold, unforgiving nights in the wilderness for several months but what laid before them offered the heroes a vital reprieve.

Blue skies and a gentle breeze greeted the Hero of Time when he climbed the small hill leading to his home in the early afternoon. The sun shone brightly upon him, almost unbearably warm, but a comforting feeling nonetheless. The smell of hay perfumed the air and left a lingering sweetness. But the sight of the woman that greeted him made the experience one hundred times sweeter. Time swung Malon once before leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on her lips, relishing the bliss the reunion brought. The pair embraced and the remaining heroes either coed over the joyous moment or turned away to give the couple their privacy.

“I’ve missed you,” Time whispered into Malon’s shoulder. Malon could only barely stop herself from tearing up at her elation at hearing her husband’s voice.

“I missed you too,” she responded, her voice cracking slightly.

Lon Lon Ranch had become a haven for the travelling band of heroes and, though their job was far from finished, the Links felt that their abundant efforts could be rewarded with the few days they were able to spend in safety behind the walls of the ranch. But that luxury didn’t come without its small price.

***

“Chores!” Malon slammed a metal pail on the kitchen table, causing the Links who were having breakfast to jump in surprise. A beaming smile adorned her bright face as she looked around the room at each individual face.

Wild nearly dropped his sausage and Wind gasped the water he was drinking down the wrong pipe at the sudden raucous noise, causing him to cough excessively. “Who’s milking the cows and who’s feeding the cuccos,” Malon asked.

The Links around the table glanced at each other before quickly responding. “I’ll milk the cows,” They volunteered in unison. Malon laughed and took the bucket back. “If you can’t decide I’ll dish out the work myself. Wild, you can stay with me and wash dishes-”

“Lucky bastard,” Legend said.

“Language young man,” Malon chided. Legend immediately shut his mouth and listened. Malon tapped her chin before she turned to Legend. “Legend, you’re on cucco duty.”

“What? Why?”

“Because of that potty mouth of yours.” Beside Legend Warrior snickered. Malon huffed. “Alright Warrior, you can help him.”

“Oh, come on,” Warrior complained, which prompted a laugh from Legend in return.

“WInd, you can feed the pigs.”

“Yes,” Wind cheered. He liked the pigs.

“Twilight, you and Sky are on shovel duty,”

“What’s shovel- oh,” Sky then realised the odd job he’d been given and cringed.

“Yeah,” Twilight said.

“Hyrule and Four, hmm, you two are on milking duty with me.”

“Aw, yeah! I love milking duty,” Hyrule exclaimed.

“I don’t. The milk always gets on me,” Four grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should get a higher stool,” Legend joked.

Four stuck his tongue out at the remark and took the offered bucket from Malon once he cleared his plate.

“What about Time?”

“What about Time- I mean Link?”

“What’s his job?”

“Oh! I sent him to fix up one of the stables in the old barn. We’re planning on breeding the horses so we need more space.”

“Cool! Epona needs more friends,” Wind said excitedly. “Can I name the babies, please?” Wind practically begged her, and Malon easily granted his wish.

“Of course,” Malon said simply, smiling widely. “There’ll be plenty of names to give next time you happen to roll around our neck of the woods.”

***

“Let’s see,” Time muttered to himself as he took inventory of the tools on the shelf in front of him. “Wrench, saw. What’s that called again?” Time snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name of the strangle apparatus. “Gimlet,” he exclaimed. Time had long since finished his repair job, but he decided to make a list of their belongings while he was busy. He liked order and he knew Malon would appreciate the extra effort. Just knowing what you had made missing items easier to identify.

After he was done counting the hand tools he moved on to the gardening section of the barn where the heavier instruments were kept. Hoes and shovels, rakes and spades, pickaxes and regular axes hung neatly on hooks right above the Hero of Time, making it easy for him to see each individual item. “Okay, what do we have here?” Time took note of all the different items hung on the wall, jotting them down on his bulleted list as he went along the row.

“Alright, that seems to be- huh?” Time whirled around just in Time to see Epona barreling towards him at top speed. Her eyes held a spark of panic, she moved frantically as if trying to escape something. It all happened in a split second.

Epona charged, ramming straight into the startled hero and carrying him into the wall, causing the tools hung on the short, narrow hooks to fall on top of him. Epona whinnied in surprise and ran away from the scene, leaving the Hero of Time crumpled on the floor.

Time was faintly aware of the serious head wound he had sustained as a result of multiple sharp, heavy objects landing on his head. It took him approximately two seconds to realise how weak he felt and that if he moved his head even slightly overwhelming nausea would wash over him. His ears were ringing, his head ached and he felt absolutely helpless.

Sleepiness slowly began to creep upon him but Time fought the feeling with his entire being. He would spend his energy trying to avoid the inevitability of sleep. He had to fight it! If he didn’t… he would not be the same when he woke up.

In his stupor, he hadn’t realised the day’s coming to an end and so the feeble hero laid helpless on the floor of the old barn, desperately trying to stay awake.

-o-o-o-o-

"This brings me back," Twilight said, shoving the shovel down in his hands for the dozenth time that evening. He dug the blade of the shovel under a particularly large pile of manure and lifted it so he can dump in an ever pulling wheelbarrow graciously provided by Malon.

Beside him, Sky grunted as he too worked a shovel into the ground. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and then continued. "This brings you back?"

"Oh yeah. Growing up, I didn't have parents. I had to get money to fend for myself by doing odd jobs for the people of the village I lived in" Twilight explained, "one of those jobs was mucking up the fields. Didn't enjoy it at the time, but it was good and honest work for a child. Now that I'm older, I help out with herding and taking care of the animals. We have the younger kids cleaning the fields now."

"Odd jobs where I came from normally included carrying books," Sky said somewhat bitterly as he unloaded his shovel into the wheelbarrow, "or cleaning blackboards."

Twilight let out a chuckle and stuck his shovel into the ground, looking around the field to admire their work. Malon did a fantastic job with caring for the ranch herself, but she was probably overworked with her husband gone off on another adventure, and seeing her field all clean-looking filled Twilight's chest with pride.

"So, what now?" Sky asked, looking at the pile of manure with a wrinkled nose. Twilight shrugged and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow.

"I'm sure Malon has a place for us to put this so we can let it decompose."

"Oh," Sky hummed. "How long does that take?"

Twilight shrugged. "Depends. We can see if Malon wants us to throw any unused crops in there to help the process, but, either way, it should be fine to use as fertilizer by the time fields are ready-"

"Wait, did you say fertilizer?" Sky squawked and Twilight grinned.

"Oh yeah, city boy. Every farmer does it."

"U-uses poo to-"

"There you boys are," a new voice chimed in and Twilight turned to find Malon walking towards them, a smile on her face. "All done?"

"Yes ma'am," Twilight nodded while Sky stood there gaping. "Was just wanderin' where you wanted us to put this?"

"Oh, we have a spot for it by the mill, that way it doesn't stink up the house while it bakes," Malon said with a wink.

"I think I'm going to barf," Sky said, clutching his stomach and both Twilight and Malon burst into fits of laughter. "This isn't funny! I'm never going to be able to eat a vegetable ever again!"

"Oh honey, wait until you hear what we feed the pigs," Malon joked, and Twilight would have laughed along as Sky cried out in horror, covering his ears, but a different sound met Twilight's ears that took every drop of his attention away.

As a goat herder, there are sounds that he was trained to recognize. One of those was the sound of frantic, escaping hooves.

He turned his eyes away from Malon who was punching Sky's shoulder jokingly and looked towards the sound, only to see a horse raging right towards them.

Epona.

Instinctively—ditching the wheelbarrow—he rushed away from Malon—who at this point had noticed the startled horse as well—and threw his hands up, calling out. She was barreling right towards them, ears pinned back in panic and mouth loudly panting, until she reared up and cried out right before she could run into him.

Something scared Epona, if the way she remained agitated until Malon pushed her way through and began to sing a song, something scared her badly.

"Is she okay?" Sky asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Malon said softly, rubbing Epona's mane with gentle movements. "What scared ya, girl?"

"If Epona is anything like my horse, nothing small," Twilight mused, he too joining in to stroke Epona's neck.

"We should find the others," Sky mumbled, pulling out his sword. Twilight agreed with a nod and unsheathed his own, the joking and good mood a mere fading memory now.

"If you don't mind, ma'am," Twilight said and gave his most assuring smile towards Malon, "you should head inside. I'll take care of Epona."

Malon looked like she was about to argue but then her shoulders sagged. "Bring everyone back safe. I'm sure it's just a wild animal."

-o-o-o-o-

"That'a'gal," Twilight hummed, leading Epona closer towards the stable, one hand still with his sword. Epona seemed to have calmed down some, but he's still worried about her. What could scare a horse that has been through so much?

He sighed and took another step towards the stable, and then he was knocked painfully off his feet by something appearing out from the ground. He landed harshly on his back with a grunt, just managing to avoid biting his tongue, but the sound of Epona's loud neigh was enough to get him quickly back onto his feet. He's back on solid ground just in time to jump to the side to avoid a fleshy, slug-like body and it's sharp pincers.

A leaver. An almost true constant between worlds. Annoying, fast, and persistent. However, they are normally found in the desert.

Twilight would wonder why this leaver was here if it wasn't for the disgusting inky tone to its body.

Infected.

Twilight jumped into battle without another second to lose. He didn't even have time to regret sending Sky to the opposite side of the field to search for the others before the leaver burrowed its strong body into the ground. Epona stomped the dirt with her hooves, whinnying loudly and angrily and he understood why she was so startled now. Any horse would be startled by something popping up from below them.

A section of ground popped up a bit and Twilight was on it in a heartbeat, jumping forward and sending his sword down. He could hear an agonized gurgle come from the creature but it wasn't done yet. It shifted and pushed forward, knocking him back. He lost grip of his sword and with a startled yell he was once again on his back. He just barely had enough time to look up for the creature but didn't have any more to spend on defending himself when it raced toward him.

Then, four raging hooves stomped on it and kept stomping on it until it was a gross pile of mush.

Twilight relaxed against the ground, forcing his heart to calm down.

Well, that happened.

He shoved himself once again to his feet and grabbed his sword, glaring at the creature now turned pudding. Epona didn't look like she'd calm down again anytime soon if the way she was huffing and snarling and stomping her feet indicated anything. So, he decided he'd let her be and go inside the stable, remembering that the old man should be in there. He could calm her down better.

He walked towards the door, gave a small knock, and opened it. "Hey, Time?" He called, the smell of horse meeting his nose. There was no answer, so he went all the way in, eyebrows furrowed by the silence.

Then, a groan.

He turned his neck, and his blood froze. "Oh Hylia. Time!'

Time laid miserably on his spot on the floor, tools strewn on and around him. Twilight sprinted towards his mentor, desperate to see what had caused the strong hero to look so vulnerable. Upon closer inspection, Twilight noticed the blood coating Time’s hair and face. “Goddesses, Time what happened to you?”

Time could only reach up and touch his forehead, wincing at the pain the simple action brought on.

Twilight was quick to sling Time’s arm around his shoulder but couldn’t manage to haul him up. If only the hero had removed his armour he would have been easier to lift. “Holy Hylia, Time, you weigh a ton.” Twilight sighed. “Okay, I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back.” Twilight ran as quickly as he could from the stable as Time groaned again and slumped back against the wall. It wasn’t long before he ran into Warrior and Legend who were busy tending the cucoos.

“Always remember,” Legend said beside Warrior who was holding a bag of feed at arm’s length, a cucoo standing innocently in front of him. “They can smell fear.”

“I’ve fought cucoo wars, my friend,” Warrior said eliciting a snicker from Legend, “I am not afraid of feeding these little punks.” As if on cue the cucoo crowed and Warrior visibly startled. Legend began cackling at his side, doubling over at the hilarity. “Shut up. I just got a fright.”

“Guys,” Twilight called, catching the pair’s attention. They turned to Twilight, seeing the weary look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” Warrior asked, concern in his voice.

“Time’s hurt. I can’t carry him alone. I need your help to take him to the house.”

“Say no more. I’ll come with you.” Warrior stepped over the fence keeping the cucoos and joined Twilight’s side.

“Me too,” Legend said, making his way over when Twilight stopped him.

“No, Legend. I need you to tell Malon what happened. She should be in the house.”

“O-okay. I’m on it.” Legend dashed off to the house and while Warrior and Twilight made their way hastily to the barn.

“How bad is it,” Warrior huffed as they ran across the field.

“I don’t know. He was pretty out of it when I got there but I hope he’s doing okay. He might have a concussion.”

Warrior hummed in thought. “What exactly happened?“

“I don’t know, but by the looks of it, some tools fell on top of him. He was lying under a bunch of gardening equipment.”

“Shit,” Warrior cursed. “I think you might be right about that concussion. How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know. He can tell us when we get him inside.”

They came to a stop in front of the red and white wooden building and pushed open the large wide doors.

“Old man,” Warrior called, peering inside, “You okay?”

Time was still on the floor, covered in blood and moaning. His eyes were glazed over but they held a note of fear behind them.

“Time, we’re going to help you. We just need to-” Twilight began as he knelt next to the man and slung his arm over his shoulder for the second time when he was interrupted by a sudden outcry.

“Get away from me,” Time yelled as loudly as he could in the state he was in. Twilight startled at his mentor’s harsh words, but he continued to lift him with Warrior’s help. “No, NO! Leave me,” Time continued to shout, fighting to free himself from Twilight and Warrior’s firm grip.

“Time, calm down, we’re just trying to take you home-”

“No, please,” Twilight spared a glance at the old man and his heart sank. Was Time crying? “Not again. I beg of you.”

“Time,” Twilight said gently, “It’s going to be fine.”

Just then Legend burst through the door. He doubled over, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” more breathing, “Okay,” he straightened and looked at the trio, Time’s teary-eyed visage and blood-soaked hair catching his notice above everything else. “Goddesses, Time, what happened?”

“We don’t know, but we need your help getting him to the house.”

Legend needed no more instruction and jogged over to help Twilight and Warrior carry the injured man. He took hold of Time’s legs but got kicked in the face for his efforts. “Ow! What-”

“Let go of me!” Time was frantic. He began kicking and flailing his arms to try and get away, but his efforts were weak despite his dedication.

“Time, we need you to cooperate,” Warrior scolded. “Malon’s probably worried sick.” Legend tried again to take hold of Time’s legs, but Time wouldn’t relent. He kept thrashing. “Time please-”

Time began wailing out of nowhere. He stopped fighting and fell to his knees, escaping from their grips but making no move to run. “I can’t. Don’t take me back there. The sacred realm,” Time sobbed, “I don’t want to go back.” Twilight froze. The sacred realm? Time had been there? Could that mean he was imprisoned with Ganondorf? And if that was the case, could that be why Time had been fighting them so relentlessly only a moment ago? Maybe his head wound was more serious than Twilight originally thought if Time was freaking out about events from that long ago. Twilight moved to pick him up again and this time his mentor didn’t flinch, probably having spent all of his energy trying to keep them away.

Soon the three heroes managed to get Time to the house without too much trouble. But the whole scene was still on Twilight’s mind. Why did Time think that they were going to take him to the sacred realm? What had traumatised the hero so much that he showed such vulnerability; such helplessness, and fear?

Before Twilight could ponder any longer Malon rushed to help her husband. She shouldered the weight Warrior had been carrying and they both managed to nearly drag Time upstairs to bed. All the while Time muttered words of protest, though he was unable to fight back effectively.

He seemed so lifeless. Boneless even. So unlike himself that it had Twilight swallowing something stuck in his throat. Something that felt like a seed of panic. Yet he knew he couldn't panic, not yet, because if he turned around he'd see the others looking at him, looking for some sort of direction, something to do.

Twilight didn't have anything for them to do. He barely knew what to do himself.

So he swallowed that seed and turned, keeping his face as neutral as he could manage, and looked at each hero in the eye. Legend, of course, was there, but until now Twilight hadn't noticed Wild and Four were there as well. Sky must have still been looking for the others.

Well, he supposed there was something to do.

"Head out, find the others, and bring your swords," he said calmly, a stark difference from what he was actually feeling. "I ran into an infected Leaver out there. They travel in packs, there could be more."

"Alright," Wild mumbled, grabbing his sword and walking out the door even though Twilight didn't think Wild knew what a leaver was. Legend shared a look with Twilight before nodding and running out to follow the champion.

"I'll go check on the traveler," Four said, "he's cleaning up the cow pen. The pig parlor is near there too, so I'll see if Wind is still there." And then he was out the door.

Then, Twilight was alone, looking at the empty house and feeling almost… lost on what to do. He supposed he could head out and search for Sky, but his feet didn't seem to want to move from their spot.

Then, the sound of creaking floorboards made themselves known behind Twilight. He turned around to see Warrior standing there.

Warrior gave Twilight a small smile and Twilight found himself smiling a tad bit back. Worry was a knot in his chest, but he was sure with the help of the others, this would just be a bump in the road.

"While they're finding the others," Warrior offered, "you and I can check the perimeter for more monsters."

Twilight was about to respond that it sounded like a plan, but then Malon made her appearance as well. "Actually, I need one of you boys to help me a little more," she said softly. Twilight glanced at Warrior and he shrugged, fixing his scarf around his neck so it wrapped a little around his chin.

"Why don't you help the lady," Warrior said, "I want to see these leavers for myself."

Twilight nodded, making a mental note to thank Warrior later, and then turned towards Malon as the other hero took his leave. Malon gave him a kind look before she stepped forward and brushed her finger across his cheek. "Look at you," she said, "you need a hose down more than the pigs."

Twilight released a breath and stepped away, folding his arms across his chest. "How is he?"

A grimace passed over Malon's features. "Tired. Confused. Scared. Nothing I haven't tackled before."

Twilight knew nightmares were not exclusive. Anyone could have them. Someone with a perfect life. Someone who've seen more war-torn days that simple days. Nightmares crept up on the cowardly. Pounced on the brave. It shouldn't surprise him that things like this had happened to Time before.

"Thankfully, he's keeping himself awake," Malon continued, beginning to head towards the front door. Twilight quickly followed along. "I don't know if he's conscious enough to purposely keep himself awake, or if… if he's subconsciously doing it. But either way, it gives us time to find help."

She walked out of the house with Twilight at her heels, and eventually, she stopped by a small garden of berry bushes. She worked her way past them and revealed a small birdbath.

Well, a fairy bath actually.

"Drat," Malon cussed, "there's only one."

"You collect them?"

"You boys and your collecting," Malon mumbled, walking forward to where a small ball of light hovered over the water in the bowl, dropping every so often to perhaps take a sip. "We're looking for one." She reached forward and gently cupped the fairy in her hands, mumbling a soft plea for help that they both knew the fairy would oblige without a single hesitation.

"Navi," Twilight whispered in reverence. Malon slowly pulled her hands to her chest, the fairie's light glowing through her fingers.

"How… how much do you know about my husband?" She asked.

Twilight swallowed. "Um, more than the others. B-but less than you, I'm sure."

She shook her head and began to head back to the house. "There's not a single thing I don't know about him. Do you know about the true nature of his adventures? Why he had been given the title of Hero of Time?"

"I, uh," Twilight stumbled, placing his hand on the back of his neck and rubbing sheepishly. "Not really. I know he… traveled a few times. Back and forth into the future and the past."

"That doesn't just happen you know," Malon said as they walked back into the house. They stopped right in front of the master bedroom and she sighed, looking older than what he had ever seen her before. "He tells me that when he was a boy, he went to obtain a sacred sword. But his body… was too young and weak to wield a sword like that. Against his will and knowledge, he was locked away in the sacred realm… for seven years, only to wake up in a body that was older than his mind. To a world torn apart by power.

"He… he tells me he does not remember those years locked away, but sometimes he wakes up screaming to let him go. Let him leave. That he's afraid and he doesn't want to be there anymore. I think… I think the memories of that place are somewhere in his head, and when he's asleep or things like this happen, they're unlocked."

Twilight nodded somberly in sympathy for Time’s circumstances. Time had endured much more than any normal Hylian could even fathom, though Malon seemed uninterested in Time’s heroics and more in tune with the man he was inside. She would know what to say to snap him out of his state of anxiety. If anyone could bring him back to reality it was her.

The door creaked loudly as Malon opened it hesitantly. She tiptoed over to the bed on which Time was lying with his back against the headboard. His head faced the window across the bed. He kept muttering unintelligibly under his breath, his eyes would dart across the room, and he would jump at the slightest noise. The hero turned his head at their approaching footsteps.

“Dear,” Malon said, causing her husband to turn towards her completely. He looked exhausted as if he’d pass out any second, but they couldn’t risk him falling into any terrible consequences of a concussion. Time smiled at her, and, for the first time since the incident, he looked as if he felt truly safe. “I brought something that might help you.” Malon released the fairy from her hands, watching it whisk away and flutter over Time’s shaking form. Almost instantly he relaxed, though slightly. His pupils contracted, the dazed look in his eyes faded and he stopped shaking. He stopped muttering to himself and looked up at Twilight who had made his way over to the bed. Time, for the briefest moment, looked as if he recognised Twilight before he shot up and scooted back on the bed, shouting, “No!” and “Get away from me!”

“Not again, NOT AGAIN!”

“Link, sweetheart, it’s just Twilight,” Malon said, reaching out and trying to placate him. “Please, try to remember. He’s not going to take you back. I-I promise,” Malon choked out. Tears pricked at her eyes as she watched her husband agonise over the cruelty that had been done to him as a child. She didn’t think she could bear to see him crumble under the weight of all his years of torture and vulnerability.

Time saw this- her tears- and stopped. He drew closer to her and placed a rough but gentle hand on her cheek.

“Twilight, will you just-” she paused and took a calm, shaky breath, looking deeply into Time’s scared eyes. “Will you please give me a moment?”

Twilight respectfully nodded and left the room. He heard voices coming from the kitchen and made his way there to find that all of the Links had returned. They all wore worried expression, presumably having all heard the news about Time’s accident.

Twilight cleared his throat and addressed the room at their expectant glances. “He’ll be alright,” he said simply.

“Alright? That’s it? No ‘he’s responding to treatment’, or ‘we know how to heal him’?” Four asked bluntly

“What kind of treatment, dumbass? We have no potions, no fairies, and no doctor,” Legend declared, flailing his arms wildly. “And how are we supposed to know how to heal him if we don’t know what’s wrong?”

“We actually had one fairy,” Twilight answered, “and we might know what’s wrong with him.”

All heads turned to Twilight at the new information. “Well? Spill it. How do we fix him,” Legend demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. He tried to look nonchalant but the look in his eyes betrayed his concern.

“He might have sustained a serious concussion, but, with the fairy, we were able to lessen the injury, but we’ll still need to take shifts waking him up. We have to make sure he doesn’t bear any permanent damage.”

The group fell silent after that, worry casting its dark cloud over them. Twilight shifted and played with his fingers, revealing his nerves.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” WIld pointed out suddenly, catching the group’s attention. Twilight paused. Even though he knew it was necessary to tell them and they would find out even without his help, he didn’t want to spread worry over a handleable situation. Despite these thoughts, he decided he needed to tell them the truth.

“There is… one problem. I don’t think the old man remembers any of us or trusts us. And more than that it seems like he’s trying to keep himself awake because of some past trauma.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it,” WInd asked hopefully.

“Not exactly. Concussed patients need sleep. They just can’t be asleep for too long periods at a time.”

“That’s sure to make things difficult, but it’s just a small setback. We can still get him to sleep and help him remember us,” Sky added cheerfully.

The rest of the Links didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t argue with Sky either. His optimism was welcome in their time of panic. They were willing to give anything a shot if it meant helping their friend.

“I think it’s best if we take shifts. Too many people at once will just overwhelm him.

“If that’s the case I’ll take the first shift,” said Warrior, standing. “I mean, we were pretty close. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll remember me.”

Twilight thought about that. Of course, there was a chance, but if the old man didn’t even remember Twilight he didn’t think he’d remember Warrior, even if they were close. “Okay, go for it,” Twilight said wearily.

Warrior nodded and left for Time and Malon’s room, leaving the rest to ponder the endless possibilities that might come of this.

"Oh good, you all have a plan," Molon said, walking into the room with the other Links'. She gave them a tired yet enthusiastic smile. " That means I can trust you all to hold down the fort while I head to Castle Town."

"Alone?" Sky asked, only to hiss out in pain when Wind elbowed him in the side.

"She can handle herself," Wind warned but Malon just chuckled good-naturedly.

"I appreciate the concern, sky child, but it's just to the castle. My husband needs more medicine and the sun is still up for a little while longer. I'll be back by morning, just keep waking him up every so often to make sure he's not getting worse," she said, tugging a shawl around her shoulders.

"If you wish for one of us to accompany you," Wild offered smally, "I'd be happy to tag along."

Really, Twilight would almost like for Wild to join Malon. He looked out of his element, and he probably felt like the last one capable to help someone with memory loss and confusion. But Malon simply shook her head and walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling kindly at him. "Thank you for offering, but I'll be fine. My husband needs you all. You're all very important to him. Besides, I won't be alone, I'll have Epona with me."

"You're important to him too," Hyrule said quietly.

Malon just beamed at him before she walked over to the door. "I'll be back by morning. Earlier if the gates don't lock me in. Take care!"

"Good luck," seven voices all chimed in. Then, Malon was gone, and the boys were all left to their own devices.

And there weren't a whole lot of devices, so Twilight took a page from Time and Malon's book and set the boys to work. Wild returned to the kitchen, finishing up dinner while Legend and Hyrule went to clean up and prepare the guest room. To Sky, he assigned sweeping the floors and Four and Wild worked together to dust various cabinets. All the while, the door to the master bedroom remained silent, a boding forewarning of what the future had to bring.

-o-o-o-o-

His head hurt. That was the simple truth of everything. His head hurt. Enough so that he would be quite content doing nothing. He was pretty sure he was asleep, but he couldn't really recall why. If he tried to remember, then the headache would just grow and he would rather it went away.

Unfortunately for him, he had little choice in many things, one of those things was the over creeping sense of wakefulness forcing himself to become aware of his body, the sounds around him, and the gross taste lingering in his mouth. Something on his shoulder.

He would have preferred to keep his eyes shut, but they opened anyway, bringing a sharp ping of pain through his skull.

Blinking, he looked ahead of him, only to find a wooden ceiling above his head and not much else. He moaned as his headache smarted, but he quickly stilled as he realized that the pressure on his shoulder that he felt earlier was still there.

He turned his head and his eyes widened. There was a man in the room with him, leaning towards him from a wooden chair set next to the bed, arm stretched out and hand resting on him. Face screwed up with concern.

“Hey, old man, you up?”

Instantly, panic washed over him.

He jerked away from the man, slamming his hands next to his side to perhaps find a weapon. “Get away,” he snarled and the man snapped back as if stung. It was now that he realized that he didn’t know where he was. There was a small inkling at the back of his head that promised that he might have been here, but the hysteria from waking up with a stranger next to him was blurring his vision, making it even harder to concentrate when combined with his aching head.

“Time, it’s me,” the man said, his voice stern but a little rushed like he was nervous, and that certainly did nothing to make Link trust him any more than what he initially did. “Captain?”

“Where am I?” Link snarled, his voice sounding wrong in his own throat. He tried to shift up in the bed he was lying in, but his body felt wrong and the hurt in his head was traveling down his spine with the movement. A flash of familiarity ricocheted across his skull and he couldn’t help but whimper at it. He had felt like this before. Like his body was wrong and everything was different and wrong and that only made him want to panic more.

Yet everything hurt, he could hardly even think about moving without some sort of pain. He could just lie there and struggle to make sense of what’s going on, hoping his muddled mind would clear.

“You’re at your home,” the man (captain?) said slowly, making an effort to raise his hands and show he was weaponless. Not that Link believed him for a second. People can be crafty when they want to be. “What do you remember?”

“I-” Link swallowed, trying to grasp onto anything that was more clear than the rapid beating of his heart. He was so confused, and scared, and lost, and what was the last thing he remembered? He can hardly remember a single thing. Then, something calming washed over him with the soothing voice of a woman singing softly in his hair, her soft hands running through his hair.

Safe, she said, you’re safe my love.

And just like that, her face appeared in his mind’s eye, and he was overcome with comfort and safety and finally, his heart calmed just a bit. He didn’t remember these walls, but he recognizes them now.

Home, they say. Safe.

He looked at the man again, trying to see him in a different light, try to puzzle together something he’s missing most the pieces to.

A name flashed across the tip of his tongue, and he spoke it before he could question it. “You’re Link,” he said softly.

The man smiled and relaxed ever so slightly, and Link can feel the energy inside of him whither as well. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore, the adrenaline fading like a wistful song. “I’m Link too,” the man said kindly.

“Oh,” was all Link could say to that. His eyes are heavy now, almost like something unseen was wrapping itself around him, trying to drag him back into unconsciousness, and he almost fell into it if it weren’t for the hand replacing itself back onto his shoulder.

“Hey, not yet, old man,” the other Link said. “We have to keep you awake just a bit longer, just to make sure your memory loss isn’t the only damage the concussion did.”

“Concussion…?”

The man simply nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile plastered on his face. “Yeah, you wouldn’t remember that. We found you out in the barn. You were lying under a bunch of gardening equipment with blood running from a wound on your head. Malon, your wife,” Link confirmed, “patched you up with a fairy-”

“Fairy,” Time interrupted, a flash of hope sparking in his eyes. “Navi?”

The other Link’s face fell as he shook his head. “No, old man. I’m sorry.” The pair were silent for a minute. Link kept his gaze on the floor as if it was more interesting than their conversation. The man ran a hand down his face before he spoke again. “Even though your wound is healed the effects are still there. You’ll be out of commission for a couple of days so don’t even think about getting out of bed.”

Link didn’t argue. He felt positively shitty to put it lightly. His head felt like a blacksmith’s anvil… blacksmith… somehow that word felt important as if it stirred the fog enshrouding his mind, trying to reveal a secret that would rather stay hidden. He grasped at it, but it evaded him.

Then a thought occurred to him out of the blue.

Link stared blankly at the man and blinked.

“What,” the other Link asked.

“Why are you in my house?” The question came out of nowhere, unprompted by anything, and yet, this was his house? Why was this man here?

The man blanched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“This is my house, is it not? I remember… that I know who you are, but why are you here? Does my wife know? Are there others? When did you even find me?”

“We found you earlier today and, yeah, there are others Twilight was here-”

“Twilight,” Link said slowly. “Yes, he was in here.“

“He’s one of us,” the other said. He paused as if realising something. “Do you remember him?”

Link shook his head. “No, I- I thought… I didn’t trust him. I thought he was going to take me back. I sense his magic... He can’t be trusted.” Link spoke frantically, trying to get his nerves across so the other Link would listen. He couldn’t go back to that place, no, he wouldn’t!

“Time, nobody here is going to hurt you. We’re your friends.” The man said then he sighed. “Malon left to get you some medicine,” he said and Link wanted to panic, but he could tell that the other was sure of his words, that Link wouldn’t be hurt. “In the meantime, I’m just going to ask you a few questions to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“All right.” Link did not feel fine, but he guessed that the other man meant something else.

The man cleared his throat before he began. “Are you feeling particularly irritable at the moment?”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just answer me,” the man said, eliciting a small giggle from Link.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, coming out of his laughter. He still wasn’t sure of this man’s intentions, but a vague recollection at the back of his mind told him that he was familiar and therefore trustworthy.

“Good. Now, tell me everything you remember starting from when you met me.”

Odd question, Link thought. “Okay, I remember… I remember this-this portal of sorts.” Link tried to bring up the memories from his foggy mind and managed to recount his meeting with the man in front of him.

“We walked through another portal and,” Link gasped. He froze as the next memory came to him. “We were in the sky, on a floating island.” His eyes were wide. It was as if he was experiencing something supernatural, but, somehow, all of this felt like he was eating seconds from the same dish. “How is that possible.”

“Keep going,” the man cajoled.

“I remember we met someone, someone who always wore some sort of cape. It was mostly white- Link! His name was also Link.”

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, keep going.”

Link’s face scrunched up as he thought, but every card he drew after that was blank. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Also, why are all our names Link?”

“We share the name of the hero’s spirit. You remember that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Link replied slowly.

“Okay, moving on,” the other Link said, waving his hand in the air. “What are your symptoms.”

***

Twilight was biting his nails. He couldn’t shake the thought of having Time distrust him so much that he perceived him as a threat.

Twilight paced back and forth across the kitchen as Wild finished up supper. “Your fingernails are down to stubs. If you go any further you’ll bleed,” Wild cautioned, sparing a glance at his mentor from his spot at the counter.

“What if he doesn’t remember any of us Wild? What if he sees us as dangerous? We can’t defeat Dark Link without him.” Twilight felt utterly defeated, but he wouldn’t let the others know that. He needed to be strong, but it was so much more difficult being a leader than Time made it out to be. The whole facade that he put up in front of the others was starting to crumble with every minute Time was struggling to remember.

“Twi, just be patient. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. In the meantime, you just need to put a little faith in him. Help him remember.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “You’re right. This isn’t going to fix itself.”

Twilight heard footsteps descending the stairs and swiftly turned around to see Warrior making his way toward them. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“What’s the bad news,” Wild asked instead of Twilight.

“The bad news: Time doesn’t remember you,” Warrior said, addressing Twilight.

Twilight groaned. Of course, he knew as much, but he was hoping Warrior could get a different result despite his doubts. “What’s the good news then?”

“He remembers me and Sky. Meaning I was able to get him to trust that the rest of you won’t hurt him. He’s willing to speak to you. Also, there doesn't seem to be any long-lasting side effects.”

Twilight released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It was a start, Time was willing to see him. If there was any chance of Twilight getting Time to recover, he’d take it. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him.” Twilight rushed forward but he was stopped as Warrior put a hand out in front of him, keeping him in place.

“Ah ah ah, not yet. Time’s resting. You should wake him up in about two hours to check if he’s okay. Do. Not. Force it. If he doesn’t remember you, it’s okay. Be patient.”

Twilight nodded sadly. He didn’t want to wait, but, for Time’s safety, he supposed he had no choice. “Thanks, Warrior.”

Warrior flashed Twilight a warm, reassuring smile before he turned to Wild. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“Well and grand. Supper is just about done. Mind setting up the table?”

“Sure.” Warrior set off to find the crockery and cutlery and Twilight stood, staring out the window, into the distance. “Something on your mind?” Wild inquired.

“What isn’t on my mind?”

“Fair. Go take a seat. I’ll save Time a plate.”

Twilight grudgingly obeyed and took a seat at the dining table. He folded his arms and rested his head on them. It had been a rough day for everyone and the fact that Time remembered Warrior and not him made him feel just a tad jealous.

The others had arrived and conversations were going over their meal, but Twilight was part of them. His focus was drawn to their most pressing issue and, as a result, he felt perpetually stressed.

Twilight didn’t notice Wild come up to him when everyone had left the table. “It’s been two hours-”

Twilight didn’t even let Wild finish his sentence before he sprang out of his chair and dashed to the stairs.

“Wait,” Wild called. “Take this.” In Wild’s hands was a plate of food. Twilight took the offered food with a knife and fork. “He might be hungry when he wakes up.”

“Thanks.” Twilight gave a wan smile and headed up to the master bedroom.

Once Twilight reached the door he knocked before he could think better of it. Twilight facepalmed. “Dammit, Link. Of course, he’s not going to answer the door.” But Twilight gave a surprised yelp when his mentor swung the door open. “Y-you’re supposed to be in bed,” Twilight chided.

Time looked, in every sense of the word, like a crook caught in the lamplight. His eyes were round and surprised and he simply stood there, staring at Twilight like he didn't quite know what to do next.

"But I suppose that's a good sign, isn't it?" Twilight asked nervously, uncomfortable under the elder man's stare. "You waking up yourself? I don't really know the fine details of concussions but-"

He's cut off as the door is suddenly slammed shut and he's left of the other side gaping, the plate of food left uselessly in his hand.

It took him a moment to find his voice. He reached up and knocked again. "Old man? It's me, Twilight, I just came to check up on you and give you some dinner!"

There's no answer and a spark of annoyance ignited in Twilight's chest.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he called, knocking again, "I'm your friend. Warrior said you remembered him and Sky; I'm their friend too!"

"Go away, please!" Time suddenly called on the other side of the door.

Twilight rolled his eyes. "Sorry, buddy, can't do that. We have to make sure you're doing alright. The sun is setting and I don't think Malon will be back until morning, so you have to work with us for a little while longer." He reached forward and placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling a little like he's about to breach his mentor's privacy, but at the same time his mentor is acting very childish and Twilight can't just leave him be.

The doorknob jiggled but did not open. Twilight scowled and huffed. "Very mature," he said, "unlock the door. Look, I know you're very hard-headed, but you have to let us help you. You have to let somebody in."

"Send someone else!" Time called.

And that blow was almost physical.

It definitely had him stumbling back like it.

Deep breaths Twi. Deep breaths. "Look! I don't know why you don't like me all of a sudden, but I mean nothing but goodwill! Plus, Warrior said that you'd be willing to talk with me?"

"... I changed my mind."

"Old man," Twilight said in exasperation. "Time. Open the door." He jiggled the doorknob. "C'mon, I'm not going to bite you or whatever. Time! Please?"

Nothing.

Twilight had to step away to restrain himself from kicking the door down.

"Fine! You win! But you will let someone in!"

He turned with a huff and walked back to the kitchen where the others were helping Wild clean up the kitchen but they all stopped when he entered the area, food going cold on the plate in his hand and face probably red.

"That didn't take long," Hyrule said slowly. "Is he alright?"

Twilight huffed and strides over to the younger hero, shoving the plate in his hands and then storming towards the front door. "He won't talk to me. It's your turn."

And then he was out the door before anyone could say a single thing. He stood in the cool evening air for a few seconds, panting like a wolfos.

If Time wanted to act like a child, then that's fine by him. He took off walking, nowhere in particular, just in a random direction. He was sure though, that if anyone looked at him through the windows of the ranch, they'd see steam coming from his ears.

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule could only stand there a little dumbfounded by what had happened. It seemed Twilight’s behavior was a shock to the rest of them too because it took a good few beats of silence bore someone cleared their throat and attempted to make some semblance of a plan.

“Hyrule… do you want to give Time his food?”

Hyrule looked at Legend, the one who had spoken, feeling like he was a trapped animal. There’s no way Time would react friendly with Hyrule. Not if he didn’t with Twilight. Hyrule barely even knew the guy. He respected him sure but it wasn’t like they had any kind of relationship or anything.

His internal panic must have shown on his face because Sky gave a kind smile. “How about,” he said, taking the plate from Hyrule’s hands and setting it down on the kitchen table. “You invite him down to eat.”

“I don’t think he can handle a large company, Sky,” Warrior said, “he’s probably very tired still.”

“I think that for whatever reason he can’t handle our rancher’s company,” Sky retorted and everyone silenced. “And while Twilight is out blowing steam we can get him down here to talk to us as a group.”

Warrior bit his lip in thought before he sighed. “I see your logic. But we mustn't crowd him.”

“Maybe we can help him remember Twilight,” Wind offered.

“So by the time Twilight comes back, everything will be fine again,” Wild put in as well.

“Fine,” Warrior muttered, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. But if we break him more, I won't take the fall with you all when Malon decides our lives are forfeit.”

It was meant to be a joke, but if the way the entire group stilled and became somber was an indication of anything, it certainly fell flat.

“Hyrule?” Four suddenly asked and Hyrule almost jumped a foot in the air, not expecting to be addressed.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to get the old man?”

Heat flooded his face. “Y-yeah.”

He left the room before he could make a bigger fool of himself and practically scrambled up the stairs. He wondered what made Twilight so irritable. Did Time say something rude? And why was Time so insistent about not wanting to talk to Twilight? He wished he knew, that way he’d be more prepared with Time inevitably shut him down too.

There was no way this would work, and he chanted it in his head like a mantra until he worked up the courage to knock on the door. There was silence for a few solid seconds, and then a voice called out in a more awake tone than what he had been expecting.

“Who is it?”

Hyrule swallowed. “Um, Hyrule. Um- well, not Hyrule Hyrule. I- I’m the hero of Hyrule? So that’s what everyone calls me. It gets confusing sometimes and-”

The door was suddenly opened and he shut his jaw with a click.

Time stood there on the other side of the doorway, his single eye critically narrowed, almost like he was looking into Hyrule’s very soul. Hyrule squirmed under the gaze, but whatever Time was looking for seemed to be found because he stepped slowly out of the way to invite Hyrule in. Hyrule swallowed and stepped back. “Actually, we were wondering if you felt well enough to join us downstairs for some dinner?”

Time stilled and then he sighed. “I’m… not sure that is a good idea.”

“Twilight isn’t there,” Hyrule rushed out and Time’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “He went out. For a run or something, I think. The other’s all want to talk to you.”

Time remained silent for a second before he released a breath. “Did I hurt his feelings?”

“Who? Twilight?”

Time nodded and Hyrule swallowed. “Oh. Um. He’ll be fine.”

“I… I don’t recognize anyone, but each of you gives me a… sense of peace and safety. But Twilight… I don’t know why but I can’t bring myself to open up to him. I know I care about him, I can feel it in my bones that I care for each of you, but I… I can’t talk to him right now. I just hope I didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“I… yeah, he’ll get over it,” Hyrule repeated because he didn’t quite know what else to say. “He’s… strong. And whatever is off about him that you don’t like I’m sure will all make sense when you’re better.”

“When I’m better.”

“Yeah… so do you want to come down and eat or should I bring food up-”

“I’ll… come down. I feel trapped in this room, and some kind faces I think will help me feel better.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hyrule stood there awkwardly as Time practically shuffled out of the doorway, his eyebrows drawn together with a tightness that could only be described as pain. His head must still be bothering him. Hyrule swallowed and took a step forward, ducking under one of his arms and grabbing onto Time’s side. Time made a thankful hum and wrapped his arm around Hyrule’s shoulders.

“What is for dinner?” Time asked as Hyrule helped him down the first step. Hyrule grunted with his weight but was thankfully able to keep his balance for a few more steps.

“Wild made Hearty Salmon Meuniere. It’s really good,” Hyrule grunted.

They finally made it down onto the first floor and Hyrule almost bent over gasping, but he was stopped when Time squeezed his shoulder.

“I don’t remember who you are,” Time mumbled, “but I have the sense that you’ve been through much. You are incredibly brave, little one.”

Hyrule swallowed, not really prepared for a revelation like that. “Everyone here is brave. You’ll see that I’m at the bottom of the ladder. It’s you who everyone looks up to. Everyone is taking this memory loss hard. Especially Twilight. I… I appreciate it though.”

“If the me without memories can tell how courageous you are, I’m sure the me with memories thinks even higher of you.”

Hyrule almost choked on his spit as his ears began to feel like they were on fire.

“L-lets go. I’m sure the others all want to see you.”

-o-o-o-o-

The other’s all consisted of seven young men who for the life of him Link… or Time could not remember. He knew the faces. After they tell him their names he’s almost hitting his head against the wall in anger because how could he have possibly forgotten these young men?

Wind was a charming lad, and he gave Time the sense or recklessness and adventure. Curiosity. He smiled the widest when Time entered the room and talked the most like it wasn’t awkward at all. Time appreciated his energy. His kindness. It reminded him almost of himself before… before everything. Except, this young man somehow managed to keep that innocent part of him alive after his adventure.

Legend was much on the opposite side of the scale. He can see the sadness in his eyes, but he can also see a spark of flame. The need for adventure still calls him, even though Time is quite confident that Legend has been through more than what he says. There had been many obstacles in his way, and he lost many parts of himself, but he still retains a kindness and carefulness that often goes unnoticed by his prickly exterior. He says things as they are, and Time can’t help but feel a large deal of respect towards the younger man.

Sky was… well, Sky was himself. Time’s impressions of him were that he was kind and positive and perhaps the happiest of the group. But he also has a righteous aura about him that Time isn’t particularly fond of. The sword on his back is confirmation of that. Yet, Time also knows that he would trust his life in Sky’s hands.

Four was as blunt as a tree branch being used for swordplay. He didn’t dance around his words, and when Time asked for his story, he flatly said that Time had no business knowing. Time can respect that. Clearly, whatever relationship he had with Four was purely made out of trust. Neither knew that much about each other, but it didn’t matter. The boy had a quick mind and sharp tongue, and while he kept his secrets to himself, he still didn’t mind very much being around the others.

Warrior, Time can’t help but feel a special bond with him. Besides himself, Warrior was clearly the eldest of the group. Time knew that this man has suffered much, and has seen much more, and yet he still went out of his way to be honorable. To be kind.

Wild was a special soul. Time instantly felt the need to pay special attention to how he acted. Searching for little signs that he was uncomfortable or happy or content. Time didn’t think Wild has had that much time to be himself. In fact, it almost felt like Wild was constantly watching himself to live up to someone else. Yet, despite all of that, Time could tell his smiles were genuine, his enthusiasm heartfelt.

And of course, there was Hyrule. Insecure to a fault, yet his heart is bigger than that. He has a lot of heart. He might say he’s not that brave, but Time knew better. He knew that Hyrule has perhaps seen just as much hell as Time himself has.

The boys were all unique. Loud. Different. And even though the headache in his skull pulsed and his eyes felt heavier and heavier the night wore on, he wanted nothing more than to continue being in their company.

They told him stories. Tried their best to help him remember some of them. He couldn’t recall them all, like the one about how Legend apparently single-handedly fought off a hoard of moblins. He suspected that was just an attempt to butter himself up and trick Time’s memory. But the story Warrior told of the great Goron spice incident came almost immediately back to him with just a small bit of fuzz around the details. Wild looked scandalized at the mention of that story, seeing as it involved a piece of women’s clothing being found in his bad, but when Time started laughing, saying that he remembered that, all of the boys became eager to tell more silly stories about the rest of them.

Wild pulled out his strange slate and began a slide show of pictures, and quite some time passed and he hardly even felt his headache anymore.

Then, the slideshow stopped on a picture of a young man with dirty hair and markings on his forehead.

The mood instantly sunk, and Time couldn’t help but feel responsible for it.

“He looks up to you a lot,” Four mumbled, “you’re… almost like a dad to him.”

And Time knew this. He knew this the moment he saw the picture down on the slate of that young man. Twilight… feels almost like a son to him too.

Now that some time has passed with the others, he can almost see how silly he was. Sure, he was out of it, memories shattered in his head like a mirror, and Twilight simply had the misfortune of being the one to find him. The misfortune of having dark magic within him that Time didn’t recognize. How foolish of him to make that mistake. How foolish of him to judge Twilight off of that simple misunderstanding.

Almost like a sign from the goddesses, Twilight chose that time to walk in the front door. His skin around his eyes, cheeks, and ears were red from perhaps the cold, perhaps something else. He stopped in his tracks as everyone turned to look at him but his eyes instantly locked with Time.

There was something desperate in them, so instead of saying anything, Time smiled and scooted a little on the chair he was sitting on, making room for one more to join them at the kitchen table. Twilight smiled like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and quickly grabbed a chair and made his spot next to Time like it was the most natural thing in the entire world to do.

Laughter filled the rest of the night, and as they told yet another story Time hardly even noticed his head drooping with tiredness until an arm wound itself around his middle and hefted him upward. He did his best to cooperate with his feet, but it clearly wasn’t much help. He was eventually laid down on a soft sofa, a throw placed over his body, and before the calming embrace of sleep could take him he looked at the boy above him. How foolish of himself indeed to think this boy could ever hurt a fly.

-o-o-o-o-

Malon returned in the morning, a stash of red potions in her hands and an irritating story to tell about her next-door neighbors in the castle town inn. Though, her irritation quickly faded when she saw her husband happily resting on the downstairs sofa with a smile on his face. The boys tell her that they helped him remember most everything the night before and gave him much-needed company. When she was able to give him a red potion, the most it did was un-fog some of the trickier bits of his memory and rid him of his headache.

She didn’t complain when he pulled her close, dragging her into a love-filled kiss.

Wind made a gagging sound but Malon didn’t mind a single bit. Clearly, there was no need to worry. Her boy’s always pull through, one way or another.

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meganlpie · 4 years ago

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The Tale of Bucky Barnes -Final

Here it is(Finally)! The final part of my Medieval/Galavant AU! All Avengers belong to Marvel and all familiar plot lines belong to the creators of Galavant.

The Tale of Bucky Barnes masterlist

Warnings: Longer part this time. Duels, angst, drunkenness, FLUFF! And a little humor.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Preserum Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Brock Rumlow

No sooner was lunch finished did the kids all beg for more of the story. Sam sat back in his chair and let out a sigh of content. "Alright. Let's see…where were we?" Bucky spoke first, "Bucky and the princess finally admitted their love for one another." The children nodded and Tony continued, "And Bucky volunteered to be Tony's champion in the duel against Clint." Everyone else started speaking until Sam held up his hands. "Okay, okay! I got it. Now here's what happened next…"

The next day, everyone was pulled from the cells and outside to the arena where the duel would take place. Clint was already prepping. "Bucky?" you questioned. Bucky looked at you with a smile on his face. "Don't look so worried, Princess. I told you; I will win this for you. Then we can go anywhere we want." You smiled at him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Good luck." Bucky entered the arena and prepared himself.

Tony and Brock were up in the royals box with Natasha. Tony looked worried while Natasha and Brock looked smug. You bit your lip in concern. You knew Bucky was good, but so was Clint. There was absolutely no predicting the outcome of this match. As both men readied themselves and Tony stood along with Brock to announce the start, you held your breath. Bucky and Clint took their stances and everyone was on the edge of their seats. You'd never felt so much tension in one place.

Just as Tony and his brother opened their mouths, another sound carried on the wind. The sounds of trumpets and galloping hooves. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked around until the horses came into view. When you saw who was leading them, you breathed out an "Oh no."

"Hello, Y/N!" the young prince astride the horse called down. Bucky looked back at you in confusion. "You know this kid?" You nodded, feeling your face heat up. "Yes. That's Prince Peter. He's the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom and…my fiancé." Bucky nearly dropped his sword.

"WAIT A MINUTE! FIANCÉ?!" Steve cried, finally getting into the story. "No. No way. Steve did NOT just deal with all the nonsense between those two and witness them falling in love JUST to find out that she's got a fiancé!" You all stared at Steve for a minute. He closed his mouth and his ears turned bright red. "Easy, Cap. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation," you said. Sam nodded and continued on.

"Fiancé? He's a kid!" Steve exclaimed. "It was arranged by my parents. Believe me, I've been trying to get out of it for years." Bucky was still in shock. Why didn't you tell him you were betrothed? At least you were trying to get out of it. Yet another reason to save your life. Still, the admission had thrown him. He didn't even hear Tony announce that, in honor of the guests, the duel would be postponed until the next day.

Back in his cell, Bucky paced again. He tried to come up with a solution. And finally, he had one but he needed to talk to Tony. That was easy enough since he was representing the king in the duel. The guard took him to Tony's chambers after only slight hesitation. Then, Bucky managed to convince Tony down to the nearest tavern.

"How would you like to take back your kingdom without worrying about losing the duel?" Bucky asked. Tony arched a brow as he downed another whiskey. "The only way that can happen is if Brock dies." Bucky smirked and nodded. Tony's eyes widened. "Wait, you mean…?" Another nod and Tony's lips curled up in a smile. "You want to kill my brother?"

"It's the only way. We can sneak in tonight and kill him while he sleeps." Tony thought for a moment before he spoke again, "I'm going to need another drink or five if I'm going to do that." With a laugh, Bucky ordered another round. And another. And another. In fact, by the time the two left the tavern, they were both drunk.

Tony was not a quiet drunk. At all. The whole way back into the castle and down to the dungeons, he kept singing about how he was going to kill Brock. Bucky wasn't much better, but at least he was a little more quiet. "Bucky?" you asked. Bucky grinned lazily at you. "Hello, Princess. Gosh, you're pretty. And not just your face. Your brain. It's like your beautiful brain exploded all over your face."

"Are-Are you drunk?" you asked and Bucky nodded. "Yep. Man, I should have kissed you when I had the chance. But I knew that, once I did, I'd never stop. It would be one of those forever kisses." You shook your head fondly. Tony tried to whistle at Bucky, but ended up just spitting a little. "Welp, off to kill the king," Bucky announced as he grabbed Tony and pulled him from the dungeon. He didn't remember much after that.

"So did they do it? Did they kill Brock? And what about Prince Peter?" Your son asked. "Wait, who now?" another voice asked. You all turned to see Peter there. "Just in time, kid. You made your story debut in Wilson's adventure tale. Apparently, Prince Peter is engaged to Princess Y/N." Peter's face turned red.

"Uh, sorry Mrs. Barnes, but I don't like you like that." You let a laugh burst out of you. "That's alright, Peter. I'm pretty happily married." Bucky kissed your temple and Sam cleared his throat. "Can I continue?" You and Bucky both looked sheepish. Sam took a deep breath and pressed on.

Bucky woke in the cell with a splitting headache. "Oh…god," he groaned. "Serves you right," he heard. He looked over to see you smiling at him. "Oh god, what did I do? What did I say?" You licked your lips and bit back a giggle. "Well, you and Sleeping Beauty over there," you gestured to the cell on the other side of Bucky's where Tony was sleeping away and continued, "Tried to kill Brock. He caught you and threw you in here. You're both to be executed at sundown tonight."

Bucky shot up, suddenly a lot more sober than he had been. He'd failed. He had failed in everything he'd set out to do. He'd failed to "save" Natasha who hadn't even wanted to be saved. He failed to win your freedom. He'd failed in seizing his moment in the sun. He had failed.

"Hey," you cooed, "It will be alright." Bucky shook his head as he got up and made his way over to the bars separating you. "How can you be so sure?" You smiled sadly at him. "Because I know you, Bucky. I know that we'll find a way out of this. Together." Bucky grasped your hands and tried to return the smile.

Just then, the doors opened, causing you to jump. Bucky stiffened in place and Tony finally awoke at the sound. "W-What? Clint?" he questioned. You and Bucky looked more closely and, sure enough, it was Clint standing there with one hand on the hilt of his sword. After dismissing the guards, he grabbed the keys and unlocked the cells.

"You have to hurry," he said plainly, "The guards are stupid, but it won't take them long to learn Brock didn't summon them. There's a boat waiting for you on the shore behind the castle." Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion. What was going on here?

"Why are you helping us?" you voiced Bucky's unasked question. Clint flicked his gaze to Tony for a brief second. "Because I may be a dog, but I'm a loyal one. Tony's been my king and my…friend, for a long time. Get him out of here and keep him safe. That's all I want in return for letting you go. Now go. I'll take care of Brock and the guards."

Bucky went to work making sure everyone was ready to go while you stared at Clint. "Now why are you really letting us go?" Clint chuckled softly and smiled. "A story for another time, Princess. Go on." You said nothing more as Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled you after him.

Your little group didn't stop moving until you reached the shore. Captain Banner nodded at you from one of the lifeboats. In the distance, his ship waited for her captain to return with his passengers. You assisted Bucky in getting everyone on board the boats until it was only the two of you left on the shore.

Bucky gently took your arms, making you face him. "Whatever happens next, we're in this together, Princess. You and me." You beamed up at him. "I promise. I love you, Bucky." Bucky pulled you a little closer, whispering that he loved you too. And, as the sun began to set, Bucky leaned down and finally pressed his lips to yours in the kiss you had both been longing for.

"The end," Sam declared, earning cheers of joy from all around the room. "Best. Story. EVER!" Your son cried out. "It was pretty great," you agreed. You leaned your head on Bucky's shoulder with a sigh as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Murmurs of agreement washed over the room. Sam sat back in his seat with a triumphant smile on his face.

Once more, your youngest made her way over to Sam and sat next to him. "Uncle Sam?" He glanced down at her. She gaze at him with wide, innocent eyes. Before she even opened her mouth, Sam knew what was coming. "Can you tell it again?" Sam let out a laugh. "Sure thing. Way back in days of old, there was a legend told about a hero known as Bucky Barnes…"

(a/n: There you have it! It took forever, so I’ve decided to end it there. I don’t want to go another year without writing the next part.)

TToBB tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @thors-magic-hammer

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @sdavid09

Marvel Tags: @jotink78 @iwillbeinmynest

Avengers Only Tags: @thisismysecrethappyplace

#the tale of bucky barnes #final part #marvel #avengers #galavant au #medieval au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

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Male each-uisge (sea kelpie) x reader (sfw) - Mermay story #6

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This started out as a hippocampus kelpie, but upon being reminded of the glorious and vicious 'each-uisge ' of Scottish legend, that fitted him so much better. There's room for a Part Two in the future, so don't let me forget about this one!! It’s been up on my Patreon for a little while now, so it’s time to share it with you folks!

Content: near drowning, brief descriptions injury and blood (not to reader), gender neutral reader, sfw.

***

Inky water coiled around you the instant that your back hit the sea. The squall had swept in off the open Atlantic, and the deck of the tiny boat vanished as the waters closed above you. It took immense mental strength to force your mouth to stay shut before you sucked in a gulp of water in place of the air that your body was already craving as the adrenaline surged.

Panic, hot and searing and in total opposition to the bitingly cold waters, coursed through your veins and you fought off the wild, flailing fear as best you could. Clawing your way towards the surface, your clothes dragged at you, and as you tried desperately to kick off your shoes, you realised with a thrill of horror that something cold and slippery was coiling around your ankle.

The surface had slipped a long way away now as you sank under the weight of your own clothing, and your futile kicks only used up precious air without propelling you upwards.

You risked a glance down and your stomach turned over with horror.

There, wrapping black fronds like slick kelp around your ankle, was a creature you could never have dreamed up, even in your strangest nightmares.

The black head of a horse stared out of the depths at you with wild, white eyes, and strands of black, wafting hair and weed waved in the water around its head and neck. Below, its sinuous, eel-like body tensed and contracted, and as you opened your mouth to scream, forgetting the pressing tons of water on all sides, it latched another tendril around you and yanked you not up but down.

Your ears popped and you fought and twitched and struggled like a bird in netting as the thing from the deep pulled you down and down. In what felt like minutes, but what was in reality more likely to have been seconds, you found yourself being dragged into a dark opening in the craggy rock beneath the roots of the kelp surrounding the shore.

A moment later, you were thrust out onto a hard surface, and you were coughing water from your lungs.

Blinking and dazed, you looked around and discovered that you were lying on a bed of hard, damp sand, cradled in the hollow of an underwater cave. And there was air. The walls of the strange, rocky bower were illuminated by ethereal, glowing weeds and plants, and to your right was a pool of water that led out into the sea beyond. It lapped vigorously at the hard sand like ink in a shaken bottle. You were in an air pocket, and like a conical flask thrust underwater, it held the air for you to breathe. You blinked, vision blurred from the stinging salt and raging panic, trying to calm your breathing and the burning of the salt water in your throat.

You heaved and wretched the remnants of the seawater from your lungs and mouth, bedraggled and weak, but as you shifted your legs, a flash of memory seared across your mind and you recalled the horrific creature who had dragged you here.

Had it drawn you underground to keep you prisoner, or to keep you alive?

You whipped your head around to stare once more at the midnight-black water that pulsed rhythmically, as though the sea’s troubled heartbeat throbbed in the deep, and there, just breaking above the water, was the creature with the large ears of a horse. Its dead-white eyes were fixed unblinkingly on your face.

“What the hell are you?” you hissed, more to yourself than to the thing in the water as you scrabbled backwards and left scars in the smooth sand.

The creature rose above the waves just enough to reveal its mouth, and to your horror, you observed that the split of its mouth ran far up its skull, almost to its ears. This was not the head of an ordinary horse; this was the head of a predator, of a creature that hunted with those jaws and with the canines of a killer. Its long black tongue slipped free of that deadly maw for the briefest of instants, and then it hissed, in a voice like crunching sea salt, “I will not harm you.”

With your blood pounding in your ears and your breath hard to catch, you tried to swallow as you stared at the milky eyes of the horse that had spoken to you. “What are you?” you repeated.

“I am… an each-uisge,” the strange creature said, still not coming nearer to you. “I will not harm you.”

“What do you want with me?” you blurted, a violent, almost spasmodic trembling spreading through your already shivering limbs as the biting cold and choking terror caught up with you.

“Want?” it said, its strange, ageless voice echoing dully in the sea-hewn chamber. “I saved you. When you are recovered, I will take you to shore.”

“Oh…” you said, feeling only a little less afraid. “Why… Why did you save me?”

The creature bobbed amid the frothing water, and you noted how the coal-black coat on its neck gleamed in the odd light cast by the otherworldly corals and plants. “You were going to die,” it said simply. “Humans cannot breathe the sea like we can…”

“What are you?” you repeated, not believing that a creature from folklore could have come to life like this.

The being in the water blinked and said rather slowly and patronisingly, “I am a each-uisge… A water spirit, like a kelpie, though my herd makes its home in the sea.”

“But… you’re not real… You can’t be real…”

A braying, wild laugh answered your breathless statement. “Do I not look real to you, human?” it jibed, and then it swam a little closer, putting its weed-wreathed fore-hooves on the sandbar on which you lay sprawled like a piece of flotsam. Its eerie jaw clicked shut and its dead eyes rolled. “This is no fairytale, no folk-tale to frighten the children.”

Without warning, your blood pulsed in your temples and suddenly blackness closed in around the edges of your vision, and you collapsed onto the sand beneath you, unconscious before your head even hit the earth.

When you woke, you still lay on the sandbar, but the water was much closer to your feet, and you were alone.

You struggled to stand, fighting the waves of nausea and vertigo that swept through you from the lingering taste of the sea in your mouth and the exertion of your ordeal, and you turned your gaze warily to the dark waters beyond the hard sand.

The scuffed hoofmarks at the edge of the water told you that the creature had been there not long ago, and your heart threatened to beat its way out of your chest as you stared at them. You’d lived all your life by the sea, if not here in this town, and you knew the fish-wives’ stories as well as anyone. Your own mother had told them to you to frighten you out of going swimming beyond the safety of the lifeguard’s buoys, but as you’d grown older, you’d seen the tales for what they were: warnings to avoid the sudden currents and moods of the sea. That was all. They were not supposed to have a grain of truth to them.

Your sodden, salty clothes still clung unpleasantly to your skin, and gooseflesh washed over you again as you shivered. You had to get out of here before that creature with the eel’s tail and the horse’s torso and head came back. You couldn’t shake the image of those predator’s teeth, nor those cold, misty, dead eyes.

Just as you turned around to see if there was a way out of the air-pocket, perhaps upwards into the rocks and up to the safety of the surface, a gentle splashing disturbed the regular breathing of the sea in the cave, and you turned with dread billowing thick and acrid in your stomach.

The creature had returned.

Clenching your jaw to stop your teeth chattering, you turned slowly and sure enough, floating there like a scrap of weed-bound driftwood, the horse’s black head glistened in the water. It blinked its dead eyes at you, then broke the surface and champed its unnerving jaw a little. Finally it said, “You are leaving.”

It wasn’t a question, but it drew a flickering frown from your brows. “Yes. Will you let me go?”

The tapering, almost elegant, black ears of the monstrous creature swivelled back a little. Not flat to its head like an angered mount, but almost sadly, like a kicked puppy. It nodded once and rasped, “Of course.”

“You say that like it should be obvious,” you said, “But I know a little about kelpies and each-uisge from the stories… You eat humans. You hunt humans.”

“We do sometimes,” the creature replied steadily. “But only when we’re desperately hungry. And I’m not.”

Its blunt words sent a fresh thrill of fear through you.

“Besides,” it said rather conversationally, “Seals are much better. Personally, I don’t see the attraction to human flesh. The taste is… awful.”

“Right,” you whispered, feeling faint.

The creature sighed, air bubbling through the water. “If you climb up the rock there, it leads to the shore. It’s far from human houses and the stone wall of the harbour, but you’ll get home alright.”

Something in its tone made you pause. “You don’t want to keep me, but you don’t seem all that enthusiastic about letting me go either…”

At that, the creature snorted a laugh - a sound like a horse’s whinny - and half reared out of the water, making you stagger back over the sand, arms flailing as you fought for balance. “I was not made for traversing the land, human,” it sneered at your reaction. “You don’t need to worry about me lumbering after you like a beached seal.”

You nodded slowly, feeling your rapid heartbeat in your throat.

The each-uisge braced its powerful equine forelegs on the sand, propping up its upper body and revealing a sleek, muscular figure, with an incredibly long mane tangled with seaweed and starfish. Its lower half was the murky, muddy green of an eel, with a long, papery-looking fin running the length of its spine. There was an odd beauty to the mottled skin of its sinuous tail, at odds with the joints and individual muscles of the horse’s chest, forelegs, neck and head.

It spoke to you in that strange, deep, rasping voice, and you found yourself inclined to listen, despite your instincts telling you to run from the predator. “I’m curious about you, I suppose,” he said. “My herd usually hunts squid and the like in the deep. I’ve only seen humans from a distance.”

“Seems like you’ve been close enough to taste one,” you blurted combatively, and to your surprise, the creature laughed again.

“True, though in my defence, he had drowned all on his own already.” When your lip curled in disgust, the each-uisge sighed. “Go on, go. You should go.” A second later, it added, “So should I.”

“Your ‘herd’?” you asked as a thought occurred to you, and it nodded. “Are… Are there many of you?”

It gave a kind of shrug, its weedy forelock flopping across one of those dead, white eyes before it tossed it out of the way again and said, “It varies. We are not so numerous as we used to be, but my herd is strong. We number about twenty.”

Your eyebrows rose, and it laughed softly at your surprise.

The thought of twenty of these predators surrounding a person in the water like teeming piranha and tearing them to ribbons with their sharp teeth suddenly made you feel sick to your stomach, and you turned away, squinting at the rough cave wall behind you. It was still illuminated by the soft glow of those mysterious corals, but now daylight filtered through the circular space above you, and as you neared the rock face, you looked up and saw that this was an old blow hole in the rocky shore.

The creature had been right and all you had to do was use the natural hand-holds in the stone to pull yourself up. It was a fair few metres, but with one last look back at the creature who was still mostly beached on the sandbar, watching you with a dolorous expression, you began to climb.

The encounter with the each-uisge stayed with you, and you found yourself researching them in your spare time. You didn’t have a huge amount of that, but what free hours you had, you dedicated to mythology and folklore of the region. There were newspaper accounts of the area, going back centuries, of men and women being lured out to sea by what they thought was a drowning horse, only to find themselves with its dread jaw clamped around them, their body straining as it dragged them down into the depths. To your surprise, however, you discovered one or two tales of kelpies falling in love with humans and using their equine strength to help their chosen love. Admittedly, these were all the kelpies who supposedly lived up on the higher moors inland.

You found no tales of the each-uisge falling in love.

And yet something eventually made you return to that submerged cave one afternoon.

The autumnal beach was deserted as you strode across it, the base of your jeans quickly soaking up the puddled seawater from the retreating tide. A piece of sea glass caught your eye, lying on the ribbed sand, and you stared at it. It was white and frosted with the battering of the sea against the sand, and it instantly reminded you of the each-uisge’s blank, milky eyes, set like two full moons in its inky face. You stooped and pocketed the rounded piece of glass and continued back along the rocky shoreline, skirting deep rock pools and crevices that would lead to a broken leg at best if you slipped into one. For all its beauty, this part of the coastline was treacherous.

With trepidation, you stared at the blow hole in the dark rock for a long time before you mustered your courage and descended into the blackness below.

The sand was smooth and unmarred, the corals still glowed merrily, and the slap of the freezing water against the rock still filled the small, tomb-like space. Other than that, it was lifeless.

You stared at that small stretch of dark water for a long time, half expecting that the creature would burst up through it like a crocodile from a river and seize you like hapless prey, but nothing happened. It seemed that you stood in a timeless space between the underworld and the earth above, waiting for some wraith to emerge. Feeling suddenly foolish, you took out the pebble of sea glass and turned it over in your hand. With a sigh, you bent and left it on the sand before climbing back up and into the daylight.

That was not the last time you found your feet taking you back there, and the next time you went, you found the sandbar as empty as you had the first time, your little sea glass pebble nowhere to be seen. You thought it must have just been swept away by the rising tide, and you left another piece there, higher up this time, and when you returned for your third visit, it too was gone.

You hadn’t managed to find a third piece of glass to leave there this time, so you descended empty handed. To your shock, halfway down, you found not the empty sandbar, but the curled figure of an each-uisge slumbering atop it like a story-book dragon atop a hoard of golden coins.

Its wheezing, rattling breath reminded you of the wind whistling through the rigging of ships, and you froze like a spider on the wall, torn between continuing and returning. It had all been real after all.

Before you had the chance to decide, the creature stirred and raised its head. At the sight of you, its large, elegant ears pricked up and it whickered softly. “You came back,” it murmured. “I don’t believe it.”

Taking a deep breath for courage as fresh fear, and a small trace of relief that this was ‘your’ each-uisge, you asked, “Am I still safe with you?”

The creature bowed its head and snorted. “I swear it, human. No harm will come to you from me.”

Taking that on faith, you nodded and continued your descent until your soles hit hard sand. Completely out of the water like this, the creature was much bigger than you’d realised. Had it been a normal horse, it might have reached sixteen or seventeen hands high; a mount fit for a king or a cavalryman. But this was no ordinary horse.

You let your eyes drink in the full length of that mottled tail, and the each-uisge watched you with amusement as you stared openly at it.

Finally, you asked, “What’s your name?”

Its lips curled softly, as much as its strange jaw would allow, and it said in a low voice, “Rhion.”

“Is that a male or a female name?”

“Male,” he said gently. “May I know yours?” You told him, and he nodded, repeating it. The echo of it on the walls of the cave made you shiver and sent a cold, scraping finger down your spine.

You stepped a little closer and he watched you intently, tilting his head slightly to one side in a manner that reminded you of a young and wary dog.

“Why are you here?” you said. “I thought your kind lived in the deep?”

He smiled again in that subtle way. “I… I thought… perhaps foolishly… that you might come back.” That surprised you, and when it showed on your face, he rasped another laugh. “And here I thought it was you leaving me these little tokens… Was I wrong?”

“Tokens?”

He shifted slightly, parting the forelegs that were folded neatly beneath his equine chest, and you recognised the two milky pieces of sea glass you’d left behind on your previous trips. When he saw your expression, he laughed and said, “I was right then. Why did you leave them?”

Embarrassed and awkward, you mumbled, “They reminded me of your eyes.”

He raised his head at that, and then shook it in soft disbelief, sighing cavernously. Then, to your surprise, he lowered that big, dark head and placed his chin on the sand like a big dog waiting on a porch. His eel’s tail twitched and thumped disconsolately once against the sand.

“What is it?” you asked, stepping nearer before you’d even thought that it could be a trap or a ruse on his part to get you to go close enough for him to snatch you away into the water.

In fact, he didn’t move at all, and only watched you approach. His ears drooped softly, hanging out to the sides like a horse at ease, and you felt so emboldened that you actually knelt down in the damp sand beside him. He kept watching you, but didn’t speak.

You raised your hand and, with only a slight tremble in your fingers, asked silently if you could touch him. He blinked slowly, which you took for assent, and he permitted your hand to rest on his head, just below his ear. He rumbled a wheezing groan, like a wounded animal, at your touch, and his lunar eyes rolled closed.

After that, you explored his body with your hands, stroking his soft, dark coat that was now dry and shone like black silk, and when you came to his belly, where the eel’s tail began, you looked once more to his face for permission.

He just jutted his nose at you in a ‘go ahead’, gesture, and you took a breath and passed over the transition from fur to skin. Where you had perhaps expected it to be slimy, his skin was smooth and dry, tough and leathery, with little bumps and rough patches like sharkskin where the pigmentation differed. He must have registered your surprise, because he admitted sheepishly, as though it were a sin, “I shouldn’t stay out of the water much longer. I’m at risk of drying out completely, but I’ve recently discovered that I love the feeling of the air on my skin…”

“You’re… not what I expected,” you said as you shuffled back towards his head.

He brought his nose to your shoulder and pausing there for a moment, he then began to nuzzle you. His eyes rolled shut again and he blew out a long, slow breath as he tipped his flat cheek against you. “Nor are you,” he said, experimentally inhaling your scent and moaning again. “I was taught that humans would hunt us and lop off our heads to stick on their walls as grotesque trophies, or stuff us and send us to a museum of curiosities…”

“I’m sure some would,” you said quietly.

A beat later he said, “And you think we’re barbaric for hunting you…”

“At least you do it for food… even if you enjoy chase too…”

He laughed and nodded. “Tell me about where you live,” he said, changing the subject to a less grim topic. “I’d like to hear more about your world.”

So you described the walk up from the harbour, past the shops and the pub with the broken compass on its sign, past the blazing pink geraniums in the window boxes, and then onto the narrow, cobbled streets of the town beyond. “I actually chose my house because of its lovely red door,” you laughed. “I had to have it. It’s a tiny old fisherman’s cottage I think, and there’s barely enough room for me in it, but it’s pretty cute. It’s the only one with a red door on the whole street. The man who owned it before me liked to buck the trend, I think…”

Rhion had been sitting with his head in your lap while you talked, and you played with his coarse forelock, untangling it and gently plaiting a strand into it with idle fingers. Suddenly, he lurched up and scrabbled away from you, his huge hooves nearly clipping your thighs, his ears straining, his gaze locked on the inky pool that led down into the depths of the sea.

“What?” you asked, ready to stand, body tense. “What is it?”

He cocked his head, all his focus on listening. Then he cursed. “You need to leave. Now.”

“What is it?”

“My herd. They’re hunting in the shallows. They…” he broke off and you heard the faint sound like a whale’s call, only shriller. It had the echo of a horse’s whinny to it. “Oh no,” he said, and he shoved you hard with his nose, a desperate gleam in his wide, white eyes. “Go! Please… They’ve caught your scent. They’re coming. If they find you here with me they’ll… they’ll…”

He was scrambling to get back into the water, his tail thrashing and sending salt spray everywhere as it hit the shallows. Water splattered across your face in a cold chain of fat drops and as it ran down your cheek you were reminded viscerally of the time you’d hit your head as a child and blood had run down your face. You rose and reeled backwards until the rough rock was at your back and he was staring at you. His jaw opened and he made the unearthly sound a horse makes in immense distress. It struck you to your core and as his mouth opened in that guttural scream of pain and anguish, you froze.

“Go! Please! They’ll kill you if they find you here. Go, and don’t ever come back!” he said in a horrible rush.

You scuttled back up the rock as fast as you could, but your muscles locked when you heard him scream.

You looked down and saw that another each-uisge had breached the surface beside him. It lunged for you, but Rhion jostled his shoulder against it and it stumbled, rounding on him with a vicious snarl. It opened its immense jaw full of sharp teeth and latched onto Rhion’s neck. Thrashing, Rhion was dragged screaming below and the waters seethed, empty and broiling, until you finally fled.

His was not your world, and you tried to put it behind you as you sped back up the beach towards the town. You couldn’t shake his final scream from your mind and it haunted you long into the night.

Too unsettled, it was long after midnight before you’d even thought of going to bed, and as you finally rose from the sofa, you heard an irregular scratching at your front door. Frowning, you stood, thinking perhaps it was a cat or even a fox, but even as you stood there, the scratching became a weak thudding.

Peering through the peephole revealed nothing, so you opened it cautiously, nerves thrumming.

Half collapsed on the step was the naked figure of a scrawny, wiry young man. In the moonlight, you could see that his pale skin was green and mottled like dappled shadow on fallen leaves, but it was slashed with cuts and - horrifically - deep puncture wounds arranged in an arc. Bite marks. Blood tracked down his torso and thigh in thin ribbons to his bare feet.

And as he looked up at you, you saw those dead white eyes from behind a curtain of lank, wet, black hair. “Rhion?” you asked, darting forwards as he swayed, half doubled over already.

He smiled, though it was weak and obviously pained. “I knew you’d recognise me,” he said, pitching forwards as his balance failed him and his legs wobbled. “I didn’t know where else to go. I remembered your story… I… I found you…”

“Come on,” you said, hooking an arm under his and guiding him inside. Blood dripped onto the flagstones as you led him towards the kitchen and eased him into a wooden chair. You had emergency supplies, and told him you’d be right back as you darted upstairs to fetch lint dressings and bandages. You were no surgeon, but they didn’t look deep enough to need stitches. You couldn't exactly take him to a hospital anyway.

When you came back he was just sitting there, staring around.

“Rhion?”

He turned vaguely and smiled at you. “Thank you,” he said faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” you asked as you got to work on cleaning and disinfecting the wounds. He hissed at you in protest at the antiseptic, but let you continue.

“They said I should have caught you and brought you to them. They said I was a disgrace. They said I betrayed my own kind.” His chest heaved. “I barely got away.”

“I didn’t know your kind could take a human form,” you said carefully as you encouraged him to lean forwards a little so that you could wrap the bandage around his ribcage where the worst of the bite marks were. Luckily he wasn’t bleeding through the dressing. Each-uisge it seemed were much tougher than humans. You wiped up the blood that had trickled down his skinny legs with a kind of clinical detachment, despite your growing curiosity about him. You wondered if it felt strange for him to have legs now.

He huffed a rather sharp laugh and said, “It’s… It’s not something we can do as easily as our kelpie cousins,” he said. “It nearly killed me to shift. I won’t be changing back for a while.”

“What will you do?” you asked. “You can’t stay here…” you added, easing him back against the chair so he could catch his breath and running your thumb across his gaunt, unusual face. “We don’t tend to get too many humans with green skin like yours…”

Rhion laughed bitterly. “I don’t know. I just had to get away. I suppose I’ll go back to the sea and find a new herd somewhere far away.”

Your heart lurched at that and you thought that perhaps he saw a little of your emotion because his pale greenish-grey lips twitched softly.

“You should rest a while first,” you said. “Come on, you can sleep in my bed.”

His thighs trembled as you helped him up and tried not to stare at him. Anatomically, he resembled a biologically male human in every way except for the colour of his blotchy olive green and grey skin, and you wanted to afford him at least a little dignity as you supported him up the stairs and into your bedroom.

Rhion eyed your bed warily as you looked about for some clothes and found a baggy t-shirt that you usually used to sleep in. You dressed him in it so that he wouldn’t get cold and would at least be a little covered, but when you eased him down onto the mattress, he groaned with pleasure and sank gratefully onto it, moaning as you drew the sheet up over his body.

“Where will you sleep?” he asked, his words softly articulated and almost slurred with his exhaustion.

“There’s a sofa downstairs,” you said, but he frowned.

“Stay?” he said. “I… I’ve never slept on land before.”

“You’re afraid?”

He didn’t speak for such a long time you thought he might have passed out. “Yes,” he said very quietly without looking at you.

With a smile, you crossed to the other side of the bed and undressed. You felt his eyes on your back, but he said nothing. Wearing your pyjamas, you climbed into bed beside him. He kept his distance, lying very still, and you weren’t sure if that was because of his injuries or because of his manners.

It took a long time for you to fall asleep, though Rhion was unconscious in mere seconds, jaw slack, delicate fingers softly curled beside his sharp features, eyes tracking back and forth behind his closed lids. His long black hair flowed all the way down his back and it was still damp. The braid that you’d plaited into it while you’d told him the story that would later save his life, probably, was still there and you fought the urge to touch it. You thought vaguely that you should have washed the seawater out of it before letting him sleep on your pillow, but somehow you couldn’t muster up quite enough energy to care.

When dawn came, sensation filtered slowly back into your awareness, and you opened your eyes to find him trailing his fingers along the inside of your wrist. You smiled up at him and he jumped when he realised that you were awake.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t meant to disturb you.”

You inhaled thickly and shuffled slightly. “You didn’t,” you said. “I still can’t quite believe this is real though…”

Rhion’s smile was sad.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” he admitted, shuffling his mottled green torso experimentally. “And… I’m scared.”

“You can stay here as long as you need,” you said, reaching for his skinny, pale green fingers and clutching them suddenly. “You don’t have to face them yet.”

“Thank you,” he rasped, his milky eyes swimming with tears. Were it not for the accuracy of his gaze, you might have thought those eyes were sightless.

You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them softly. A shaky breath escaped him and his smile broadened, crinkling his eyes and bringing little curving dimples to his gaunt cheeks.

“I don’t scare you any more, do I?” he asked.

You shook your head just a little and kissed him again.

“When I’m better,” he said, “I’d like… I mean…”

“I know,” you grinned. “I think I’d like that too. For now, rest and heal. Everything else will come afterwards.”

His tired eyes fluttered and he allowed himself to fall back into a healing, dreamless sleep while you watched over him for the time being.

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#exophilia #kelpie #each uisge #male monster #gender neutral reader #sfw #monster x reader #male monster x reader #sea monster

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 4 years ago

Text

Cori's Tale (Pt.2)

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We sat there for a few minutes, I exchanged stories with Patton about the surface world. His expression of sadness and anger at the notion of the other children sending us down the mountain as sacrifices was one I wouldn't soon forget. I learned a lot about him, to, he had a cat allergy, he took care of six children before I got here. That last line stopped me in my tracks.

"What. . . Happened to the other kids?" I asked, Patton's face seemed to fall.

"They. . . Left. . . That's all you need to know for now, dont dwell on it ok kiddo?" Patton rested a hand on my shoulder for a few seconds before getting up.

"I think we should head off now, yeah?" He said, holding a hand out. I merely nodded and accepted it. I walked with Patton into a narrow hallway. On one end was a sign, on the other a lever and pressure plates. Patton stepped a pattern on them, his hooves clicking against the stone, before flipping the lever. A door opened and he walked through it. I chose to read the sign before following.

"Only the fearless may enter here, brave ones, foolish ones, both walk not the middle road," I read aloud before crossing. The words bounced in my head for a bit, fading to the background as my attention turned back to Patton.

"This next puzzle you can do on your own, I've labelled all the levers for you," he said, I watched him cross a few bridges to the end of the room, the second doorway was blocked off by a set of spikes on the floor.

I walked over to the first lever, light blue words were scrawled on the walls next to it, telling me this was the right one. This repeated with about two more levers before I heard a clicking sound and noticed the spikes behind Patton retreating into the ground.

"This next puzzle is dangerous, take my hand," Patton said, holding it out. I took it, not paying attention to much until I realized what we were walking on. Rows, and rows, of sharp, silver, spikes. The spikes seemed to retreat under Patton's hooves, I found this matter interesting.

"Now, as you go through the ruins, you may encounter monsters, and they may try to attack you, I want you to know you should just talk to them and I will come to resolve the conflict," Patton smiled and gestured to a dummy at the center of the room. I walked up to it and noticed the heart that had been established as my SOUL appear in front of me again. I saw something behind the eyes of the dummy, something I couldnt quite place.

"Hi, I'm Cori, she/her and they/them pronouns, what's your name?" I said, not really expecting the dummy to respond. The mysterious aspect of its eyes seemed to evaporate, my SOUL retreated back into my chest, I looked to Patton for guidance, but he merely smiled and clapped in approval.

"Now, follow me kiddo," he said, walking to another room. We'd nearly gotten there when a small frog-like creature appeared in front of me. A barrage of flies aimed straight for my SOUL, I narrowly managed to avoid them by spinning out of the way.

My mind seemed insolent on two options, threaten, or compliment. I was never very accomplished at threats, so instead I decided to compliment the symbol scrawled on its chest. The frog began to blush, it was seconds away from preparing its next attack when Patton stepped out onto the scene. With a glare that could freeze even the toughest child in their tracks, he shooed away the frog creature.

"You did wonderful kiddo," he said, smiling as he lead me to a much longer corridor.

"This test is going to be very difficult, I am going to leave you alone, and you're going to have to walk to the end of the hall, do you think you can do it?" He said. I nodded, I'd been on my own plenty of times before this.

I watched him disappear down the hall and began walking myself, I'd almost reached the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder once again.

"Its alright kiddo, I didnt really leave, but this was a very important test of your independence, I need to make sure you can be alone, I have to handle something," he said. He dropped what looked like one of the old phones the guardians back at the community talked about used to have.

"I will call you periodically to make sure you're alright," Patton walked away from me and I stood there.

He did, in fact, call several times before his phone was stolen by a dog. After about twelve calls I decided it might be best to venture out on my own, after all, I already knew how to talk to and spare the monsters. I packed my art supplies and sketchbook back into my bag and set off.

The ruins were relatively calm, with only the occasional froggit or molsmal to interrupt my walking, though my complimenting and flirtation skills were advanced enough that I could pass them easily. The first real problem presented itself in the form of a ghost, laying on the floor and sulking. It was a sort of faded purple color, and it seemed to be pretending to sleep.

I elected to nudge it slightly with my foot, resulting in a retaliation from the ghost.

"Oh. . . Oh no. . . They noticed. . ." Lavender, as the words appearing above the ghost called it, seemed rather upset.

"I'm sorry- I just needed to get past, I've got somewhere to be," I said.

Tears rained down from the ghosts face, I held my hands up to block them, but they seemed to float back upwards, changing shape the closer they got to my outstretched palms.

"I really didnt mean to frighten you, you seem rather nice," the ghost seemed surprised by this statement.

"I want to show you something," she said. I merely nodded and watched as she cried, her tears floating up and beginning to form what looked like a flower-crown on her head.

"Woah- I wish I could do that," the ghost retreated out of battle.

"I met someone today. . . And they were actually really nice. . . Wow," the ghost disappeared without another word, needless to say it was a uh- different experience, but I didnt mind it. I kept walking on, solving puzzles as I passed them, fighting all manner of strange monsters. I left some money in a web of spiders, each seemed to be wearing their own small hoodie, I decided to write a note complimenting them on it, hoping they would find it sweet. I put the donut they gave me in a ziploc bag of other food items I'd collected, hoping that would keep it from messing up my backpack.

I finally managed to reach what looked like a small house, out of which Patton walked, phone in hand before he noticed me.

"Oh my goodness gracious how long was I gone! Come here kiddo- I'll heal you," he said, trapping me in one of the biggest bear hugs I'd ever experienced. I felt a calm wash over me. Patton let go and guided me into the house.

"The pie isnt cool just yet, but I'll let you know when it is, feel free to explore," said Patton. I, however, had had enough of exploring that day, and decided that I would rather draw at the table.

I began to get tired later in the day, and elected to go to bed. I woke up later in the night with the smell of pie filling my nostrils. I merely set it in another ziploc in my bag before going back to bed.

I wasnt sure how long I was in the ruins before I began to feel homesick, but soon enough I'd plucked up the courage to ask Patton about leaving.

"Stay here kiddo, I need to handle something," I watched as Patton disappeared around the corner before following him. We walked all the way down the stairs before he stopped at an archway, turning to me.

"This is the exit to the ruins. . . I am going to destroy it. . ." He said.

"I have seen five children pass through these doors, and never return, one who didnt even make it through the ruins themselves, I cannot let it happen again," I was frozen, processing the words to slowly to interrupt.

"If you cross, they, Logan, will kill you," Patton said, something about the way he said Logan's name resonated with me. He sounded distraught, as though he were talking about someone personal to him.

"But you cant keep me here forever, it's not right," I said. This seemed to breach the silence.

"You are right. . . You would just be unhappy here. . . Very well. . . Prove yourself to me, and I will let you go," this time, two hearts appeared. My own ever-changing one, and an upside-down white one on Patton's side.

I barely had time to comment before facing a barrage of fire and flames. I narrowly managed to dodge it, holding my hands out as a barrier.

I wanted to talk to him, but I couldnt seem to find the right words.

The fire kept coming, I held my hands out, envisioning it in my head as changing shapes, which it soon obeyed. I watched as the fire molded itself to the images in my head. Soon enough the spitting image of Patton was in front of me, made of fire, before it split off into separate whispers of smoke. I could see the surprised expression on Patton's face as he watched.

Soon enough his attacks became less calculated, almost as if he was actively avoiding hitting me.

Finally it was over, Patton sighed, defeated.

"I am so sorry kiddo. . . You're right. . . You would just be unhappy, my expectations, my loneliness, my fear, I will put them all aside, for you," he said. He opened his arms for a hug, which I embraced in full. As he let go I could see the tears making their way down his face. I watched him leave, turning his head slightly and giving me a small nod.

Then it was just me and the door. As I walked through, I was met with a long corridor. At the end if it, a familiar orange face.

"Well done! You spared the life if one innocent person!" Said the tree.

"What do you want with me." I growled under my breath.

"I am the prince of this worlds future, but do not worry, my plan isnt regicide, this is so much more interesting,"

I stomped my foot into the ground "What. Do you want. From me." I repeated.

"You interest me, human, sparing even those who would kill you without hesitation, but what will you do if you meet a relentless killer? Will you kill out of frustration? Or will you continue to die, because you would rather rely on magic than murder," the tree seemed to disappear abruptly, leaving me alone with the words echoing in my head.

I continued down the path, and was met with an overwhelming sense of cold at the end.

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@nerosdayinhell

@that-artsy-gay

@official-lucifers-child

@spooky-scary-virgil

@misunderstoodshadowling

@youtuberswithalex

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wokeastroke · 5 years ago

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Response A: Tradition was, at its core, very important. Woke knew this. But as he rode Lily past the cramped conditions, the sickened horses, the poor things calling for just a few feet more of space, he could not help but become slightly disgusted. Amidst the elves of Silvermoon, there were rules and many a thing to keep in mind as you wove your wave through the streets, but survival had always been key.

Any elf in this family's position would have changed. As it was their lot. To change with the times, to ensure they would be there when the tides of the world shifted. It was with this disgust that Woke walked his armored ass up the steps of the ranch's main building. Servants and workhands who'd proved their worth watched with raised eyebrows and muttered oaths of protection, but he paid them little mind. In the strange world of rules and history they embedded themselves, he was among their highest regards. He owned a horse, he owned land, and he was a lord. So, they would hear him, at least.

And that, Woke figured, would be all he needed.

He wrapped at the large house's door with import, and spoke curtly and simply to the servant who answered. He'd important business with the head of the house, of these lands, and he would see them now. Of course, rules dictated that he waits for the lead to see him, but Woke followed after the servant as he left to speak. The poor fellow, old as he was, nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard Woke speak behind him.

"Hello! Lord Felo'dorah, at your service. Rather. It's come to my attention that, with the war ended, you've found yourself rather well off. But..." He looked out the windows. All of the unused lands and the sickly stock. "It appears you have squandered this chance. I ask you, friend, do you plan to let tradition burn you to the ground?"

The sputtering given in response, the rising out of his chair, Woke had anticipated it all. The man had ran this horse ranch for decades the same way, and never had it failed him. The gall of Woke to walk into his very home and accuse him of ruining his legacy was a slap in the face. So, Woke played into the rage. "I have insulted you; I know. Under normal circumstances, you would have me thrown out. However, I've also come with a challenge." He stepped to the window, beckoning the fuming man over.

Well, he had been fuming until his eyes fell upon the majesty that was Lily the Warhorse. Stark white, a hand higher than any of his best stock, and snorting angrily at life around her, she far outmatched any of his own in quality. Her breeding rights alone could keep him comfortable for decades, and could ensure his children had their own stock. With that mare alone, he might himself take over the entirety of the Kul’tiran horse market.

There it was, gold incarnate, whinnying aggressively at his staff. He was in love. Woke admired his beauty for a moment longer before he looked to the man. “This horse might be yours; you know. You need only beat me fairly, in a race. Your best, against my own. If I win, you may have her. If I win, you will work for me.” He made no mention of the loss of traditions, not yet. These would come after he mopped the floor with this man.

Woke left that day with the warm satisfaction of having already won. Lily would sooner die than be beaten by one of these poor things, he thought as he gazed about at the skinny animals. He mouthed a wordless promise, to end their suffering, before swinging into Lily’s saddle and cantering off as easily as he came.

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The race came the next day, early in the morning. The sun had only just shown the edges of its face, and that was exactly what he wanted. As were typical, such challenges were met early. It had something to do with the ground being soft enough for the horses’ hooves or some such, But Woke did not care. He’d merely wanted to pique the man’s interest and beat him thusly. To his credit, the man’s own horse was in decent condition. His coat was brushed and he was quite alert, a wonderful example of what all the stallions there should look like. It seemed the traditions only applied to stock that you did not care for specifically. They nodded to each other, shook hands, and ambled their steeds to the starting line. The race would be simple. A post sat in the unused field that had been chosen, a half-league from their position. They would drive their horses forward, round the post, then come back.

The servant from before, the old fellow, raised his starting pistol with a trembling hand. He’d eavesdropped on the conversation, and knew his job was on the line. His gnarled fingers and knobby knees were good for little besides paperwork and servant’s jobs. What would the large, handsome elf need of him? It brought him so much worry that he nearly jumped out of his skin once more as the sound of the pistol split the silence. Then there was naught but the dirt ripped up by hooves as they took off.

The man shouted at his horse as they moved, ‘yah’s and ‘git on’s to goad the poor, black thing into great bursts of speeds. This was not echoed by Woke. Lily knew her task, and he knew that she would know when to put on speed, when to ease off, and how to win. He merely had to turn her around when the time came. And it approached fast. A league was a mere three miles, and they’d halved that. The post neared them with every second, and already the ranch owner’s horse had begun heaving. Woke realized, with more than a little pity, that he had exhausted more of his energy attempting to match the breakneck speed Lily kept with ease. Woke focused his eyes on the post, next. Many would attempt a wide curve about it, then slowly angle back towards the finish line. But Woke was an exceptional rider. There were few that could match his ability to use a horse as a weapon, an extension of his own will. Once Lily’s back hooves passed the wooden pot, he pulled back on her reins, causing the horse to slide to a halt not ten feet from it, while the ranch owner had already begun his long curve.

Lily reared around on her back legs springing them forward. It hadn’t been a turn on the dime, but it was as close as a horse of her size could get. Still, it gave them the boost needed to overtake the man and his own mount, who now foamed yellow at the mouth. Woke and Lily shot past the finish line a full thirty seconds before the ranch owner’s. Woke spent no time gloating, there was no need. He merely nodded at the servant, told him the necessary contracts to write up by the end of the week and thanks the ranch owner for his time. This was just one family. He had another to go but the seeds of pride remained. He would be back tomorrow, however. He still had a word or two for the man and his dereliction of the care of his horses. And perhaps a fist or two. He did not know yet.

He only hoped Risal had as much success he did. Aisling too. It had to be done perfectly, or it could all come crashing down around them.

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thesparksbro · 5 years ago

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Maximus’s bad day (fanfic written by sidekickjoey)

Maximus was used to odd days.

When watching over Corona, odd things tended to be normal. He would some days have to help his trusty human royals battle villains or be a prop for them so they could reach high places. He would have to train guards and then train guard horses soon thereafter. There never was a dull moment for Max.

Not even when he was out on his own accord to enjoy the fresh air. One would think a nice, pleasant, vibrant green meadow would be the site of utter calmness and contentment. However, not even this place could provide the serenity and freedom from chaos Max desperately needed after a week of everything under the sun.

He was trotting through the wooded meadow, his mane blowing in the cool breeze, when a lowly apple tree came into view. He had not seen this tree before having so much fruit, and before he could question its appearance, his animal instincts kicked in and brought him galloping toward it. Apples were his favorite food, after all. Who was he to deny such a feast because his head thought it a little strange? As if hearing his thoughts as he wagged his tail before it, one juicy apple fell toward the ground and right in front of his hooves in the rustling of the breeze. Maximus, pleased, leaned down to taste it.

His action was halted, however, by another apple falling smack-dab in the middle of his head.

His vision went crosseyed, and for a moment, he was stunned silly. All sense of balance disappeared, causing him to wobble in his attempts to walk forward, and he could barely think straight. It took only a few more hobbled steps before he fell over completely, his mind going black and his eyes fluttering shut.

He was out.

Thankfully, he was not out for too long. In moments, Max awoke to the same cool breeze, only this time coupled with a splitting headache and hazy mind. It stung him, but he knew he needed to get up. It was just an apple, after all. It would take more to stop the great Maximus from working!

Then again, maybe that apple was a little more than just a tiny, lowly apple. Max’s vision and grogginess still remained as he regained his footing and began on the trail back home to the castle. He just did not know what had caused that apple to hurt him like this, or why he was so out of sorts. Much worse had come at him before, and he had been perfectly fine then! It just didn’t make sense. He decided that, once he got back home safe, he would not rest until he found out the reasoning for himself.

~~~~~~

About half an hour passed since Max began on his trail back home, and for a change, he was starting to feel himself again. All four hooves seemed to be in working order, and both his eyes finally were not making everything look so hazy. His little daze seemed to be disappearing, returning him to the Maximus everyone knew and loved. It added a spring to his step, and a bit of giddy to his up. It also made him unsuspecting of anything else possibly standing in his way, much like a tree root cascaded along the grassy floor.

Max toppled down to the ground before he knew what hit him.

As luck would have it, his toppling did not stop there. Like something out of a movie, Max quickly found himself falling down the hilly path, flailing right into a puddle of mud just big and deep enough to coat him from hoof to ear with thick, murky mud. First he nearly loses consciousness, and now he found himself smothered in disgusting brown gook? If he could speak, he would have asked the universe if things could really get any worse for him.

If the universe could speak, it would have laughed in his face and said, “try me.”

Clopping her way forward were the familiar hoofsteps of none other than his lady love, the beautiful Fidella. She was on the path out to do her duty of guarding it, one that Cassandra had put her on a few weeks prior when Max needed to be assigned elsewhere. He knew for certain she would be coming his way, and that was simply something he could not bear to handle for himself.

Being beaten up by nature? Sure. Why not. Being beaten up by nature in front of his crush? Well, that was less palatable.

Leaves, broken twigs, grass, and Spanish moss covered him in a blinding array as he dove into the nearby bushes for cover. He sat there, silently freaking out about the moss in his mane, as Fidella trotted past his position just barely missing him. He thanked whatever shred of luck that he still had that she did not yet see him. With one final thank you, he ducked behind a large oak tree and waited for her to finish observing the path’s land.

The second she did, Max breathed a sigh of relief and plopped onto the grass like a dog.

That was too close.

And, whatever he felt pointing his backside with sharp, prickly pricks was even more close than he’d like.

Of course. Why not.

A sharp whinny of pain filled the air as Max leapt away from the cactus. It was just as out of place as the apple tree had been, yet its pain was far less pleasant than the apples’ deliciousness and weight. It, much like the bump on Max’s head, did not go away as soon as he got up. It stuck to his rear, and no amount of bucking like a wild horse could rid him of it. It was on there, and without luck on his side on this odd, odd day, he was going to have to fight long and hard to get it off.

Lucky for him, the universe decided to give him a break from fighting courtesy of another knock to the head, this time by a tree.

He would have to send it a post card in gratitude when he woke.

For now, though, dreams of apples and his nice, warm stable filled him as his mind swam through unconsciousness.

~~~~~~

“Do we have any idea where he could be?”

Rapunzel petted Fidella’s head worriedly, gazing at Eugene and Cassandra as they stood in the stables. It had been almost an hour since Fidella had made her way back home and reported no sight of the white horse, and such news had Rapunzel worried out of her mind. Even Eugene, not always the biggest fan of him, was worried. He paced, stealing glances his girlfriend’s way as he walked.

“He could be checking out a lead,” Cassandra offered from her place on a stool, meeting Rapunzel’s frantic eyes with a small smile. “I mean, he is basically head of the royal guard. He might have been tipped off and decided to go follow it without letting anyone know. He’s a horse, after all. It’s not like he can just tell us what’s on his mind.”

Fidella huffed at that, soothed only by Rapunzel petting her once more. She looked to Eugene, meeting his eyes and stopping him in his tracks. “Do you think he’s alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” he assured, though not entirely sure of himself on the matter. “He fell through the sky with me and landed without a scratch. I’m sure he’s probably off chasing something and will return bright, shiny, and white as ever.”

Just then, the stable doors opened.

In walked a muddy, twig-filled, leaf-infested, grass-coated, and moss-strung Maximus, stiff thanks to the quick drying of the mud and cactus placed perfectly on his butt. As Rapunzel and Cassandra let out joint gasps, Eugene had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing.

“I stand corrected,” he snorted, meeting Rapunzel’s gaze. She gave him a stern look, only to be clouded over by an eruption of laughter from stable guards. It did not take long for Eugene to join in, earning a disgruntled and unamused glare from Max. Concerned and not amused by their laughter either, Rapunzel, joined by Cassandra and a very worried Fidella, made her way to the poor horse’s side.

“You poor thing! Look at you!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Eugene coughed, desperately trying to contain himself, “I’ve heard stories where looking at swamp creatures gets you imprisoned in their swamp chambers for years.”

Maximus’ glare became deadly. Shaking his head and mane, he made sure to shake some of the muck off of him right onto that of Eugene’s clothing. Once the deed was done and his message was sent, he slowly walked into his stall and collapsed on the floor with a huff.

As far as he was concerned, he would take an odd day training guards or chasing around royals over this one any time from now on.

Happily.

#sidekickjoey #briannathestrange #fanfic #Disney Tangled #Disney #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel #Maximus #maximus the horse #submission

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x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x · 6 years ago

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Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 17: Red Lights)

It was the smell of smoke that woke you up first. Then the frantic chittering and trampling of undergrowth as various animals rushed passed your tree, squirrels, deer, and even wolves. They all ran towards the same direction, away from North, where you were originally headed. You were so confused by the sight that you failed to notice the red claws drawing nearer and nearer, rapidly consuming everything in its path.

It was only until you realized that they were running from something that you finally turned your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Then it hit you. There had been no rain during your slumber, there was only the sound of thunder and the crackling of lighting. Of course. It hadn’t been a rainstorm. It had been an electrical storm. And you were in a forest, surrounded by tall trees. Shit.

Everything was on fire.

The flames licked at the treetops, quickly approaching your hideout.

Oh fuck! You leaped out of the branches, hitting the ground hard and sprinting away immediately, not wasting a single second. There was no time to contact Black, and even if you could, there was no way you would be able to concentrate on escaping the fire and talking to him at the same time. As if it couldn’t get any worse, a bolt of electricity split the tree not too far from you, and it burst aflame. You could feel some of the aftershock coursing through your body, but it passed eventually.

Focusing blurrily on the shapes running past you, you followed in their footsteps, hoping one of those massive canines wouldn’t become hungry.

A large force suddenly shoved you off your feet, causing you to crack your forehead against a boulder jutting from the green grass. Well, it wouldn’t be green for much longer. The air seemed to dim around you, and everything began to swirl and blend together. The smoke invaded your nose and crept through your lungs, where it nestled like a dark gray cat, mauling and biting at your insides.

Ignoring the pounding in your head and your fading vision, you grasped onto the trunk of a tree and tried to force yourself into a standing position, a hand clasped firmly over your gasping mouth.

Well, you had never been burned to death before, but you weren’t exactly eager to experience it firsthand. It seemed as if all the forces of nature were after you, first drowning, now burning. What was next, a goddamn tornado?!

When will I ever catch a break?! You thought irritably as a mouse jumped over your shoes.

Even after about two days of rest, your body was still recovering from your escape from the underground prison on the beach, and the lightning strike definitely didn’t help.

Oh Black, where are you?

That’s when you caught the sound of splintering trees followed by a deep bellow. You turned your head to be met with a massive elk, barreling through the fiery vegetation towards you, giving you a crazy idea. Stepping to the side to avoid being trampled, you waited until the colossal creature had galloped next to you before jumping and looping your arms around its neck, and holding on until it ran past another tree and pushing yourself off the trunk and onto the elk’s back.

It let out a snort but didn’t seem to be particularly interested in bucking you off, too busy trying to outrun death. Hopefully, it wouldn’t end up electrocuted, but it was the only plan you could come up with on the spot.

“Black!” You hollered as you bounced on the elk, trying to keep your head from spinning and throwing you off. “Black!”

It leaped clumsily over a fallen log and you were nearly sent flying, clutching onto its rough, thick fur for dear life.

Can’t I have one fucking day of peace?! You lamented silently. Life was constantly throwing curveballs at you as of late, more than the past decade combined; first, you had been trapped in that godforsaken torture cave, then the entire forest decided to set itself on fire, and then you got electrocuted and your getaway rested on a weakening elk that was beginning to stumble and huff.

If you had been able to fully recover all your energy, you would have been able to signal to Black with your chi, but you were still too weak.

Every time you turned your head, the fire crept closer and closer, until you were barely outrunning it by more than a couple meters. No matter how much you tried to spur on your ride, it had inhaled to much smoke just like you and it was wobbling badly on its spindly legs. The poor thing looked like it was about to pass out any minute, and then you’d both be goners. Trees began to fall as the fire consumed them, and the smoke was so thick you could barely see. Most of the animals seemed to have evacuated, though every now and then you would see a small critter or so lying dead, caught by the gaping maws of death.

A weak squeal suddenly caught your attention, coming from a bit farther up ahead and to your right. As you approached, you realized that it was a brown boar, a juvenile by the looks of it. Its hooves scratched at the dirt as it tried to free its foot from a hole underneath a twisted root, the noises getting softer and softer by the second, before it mournfully put its head down to accept its demise.

You looked down at the wheezing elk, white foam crusting its lips and water glazing its wide, frightened eyes. Your brows furrowed before giving its neck a quick pat, steeling yourself to jump off. It would be able to flee faster without your weight, and there was no point in you both dying. And perhaps you would be able to save the boar. You, out of everyone understood the fear of death, and there wasn’t any end much worse than burning to a crisp, alone and terrified.

Well, it’s always a good time to try something new, you managed to scoff dryly at your own joke. It’s not like I can die anyways.

Sprinting to the trapped animal, you began to furiously dig around its hoof, and it began its struggles began anew as the boar came to realize that it still had a chance at surviving. You ripped at the hard roots that curled around its leg, gritting your teeth against the pain as your flesh tore at the force. If you had been at full health you could have snapped them like ropes, but alas, there was no use wishing for something that wasn’t there. Next time you saw Zamasu, you’d shove his balls down his throat and then watch him choke on it.

“Just a little more,” You puffed, sweat dripping down your face. Your lungs were in agony, and your eyes felt just as bad. Everything hurt like Hell, but there was nothing you could do about it.

The first fingers of the flames began to lap at your sleeve, causing the boar to get even more hysterical and continue to fling dirt back at an accelerated pace.

Finally, you were able to wriggle its foot free and it sped off, leaving you covered in ashes and grime. Crawling away from the approaching flames, you didn’t even get a chance to catch your breath before pulling yourself to your feet and staggering away from a horrible roasting. Mind reeling, you could barely see over the torrent of tears the fire forced out of your eyes.

You were so focused on limping away that you didn’t notice the loud groan of a blackened tree, falling towards you. By the time you were able to realize something was wrong, it was too late.

It fell with a thud onto your back, completely crushing your legs and back under its weight. You didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore, the heat and smog had made you nearly delirious. The dead tree had paralyzed everything below your lower back, so at least there was no pain.

It almost felt nice not to feel anything anymore, though through your closing eyes everything was being swallowed by the fire and being painted red or black. How you had come to hate the color red.

Black…..You managed to whisper weakly inside your rapidly failing consciousness. Black….please help….me….Look for…..red lights….

The last thing you saw was the cloudless open night sky as the trees fell around you and two dark shapes began closing in on you, one with familiar black tufts and the other with light blue hair, unable to hear their voices as they cried for you.

#goku black

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satiah81 · 6 years ago

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The Thing That Should Not Be - Chapters 1-22

This is a reblog of my work originally posted on Archive of our own. Feel free to like, reblog and leave comments. Unfinished, work in progress with (bi-) weekly updates.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield X OFC

Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, adult themes, non-con

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982820?view_full_work=true

Summary: I`d never liked my life in the bustling city, superficial, gray and lonely, as it was. Yet what I found in the new world was far beyond words. Dark and passionate. Cruel and scary. What Thorin taught me about his reality I would remember forever.

WARNINGS! If you are not comfortable with rape/sexual slavery/angst topics, then this story is not for you. It is a dark and intense fantasy.

Chapter 1

The water was deep and cold, black as the darkest night. It froze my senses, intoxicating me with sharp pain, biting in my limbs. I tried to scream but was silenced by the pressure and ice-cold fear that crept in my heart. I was being dragged further down to the depths. I kicked and managed to get rid of the handbag on my shoulder and moved closer to the surface in desperate need of oxygen.

Then I sensed subtle change in the atmosphere as a ray of pale light emanatied from far below. It was there for a split second and all went back to normal. I finally emerged on the surface and took in my first breath, gasping.

The lake was large and its waters dark, on one edge covered with thick mist of early autumn. I swam to the nearest bank and totally exhausted spread on the grass. It was early morning and I could sense bright sun hidden behind the white wall of clouds.

Where was the yacht gone? I blinked in surprise and searched the water for any sign of movement, familiar object, or any sound. The silence was deafening.

When I came to my senses, I decided to search the bank systematically. If the yacht sank, there must be some wreckage left, broken pieces of wood or… bodies. The storm had come out of nowhere, I remembered blinding lightning and scared faces. Then all went wet and cold and I was fighting for breath suddenly.

Nothing. I inhaled deeply. Perhaps they have left without me.

I remembered there was a river flowing into the lake. I followed its stream in the direction from which I remembered our yacht had sailed. After half-an-hour walk I finally realized they could not have possibly sailed away so fast.

Something was very wrong here. The trees looked unfamiliar. The landscape felt different but I could not put my finger on why. Fear and distant, hazy thought that something strange and perhaps unnatural had happened crept at the back of my mind.

I sat down by a tree and thought for an hour, waiting. Then I returned to the lake and roamed its surroundings for the rest of the morning. I ate some berries and drank a few sips of water from the lake which I had already started to hate. I waited. They must come back for me with a rescue party and dogs, that's how it's normally done, right?

As the night drew near, hunger squeezed my stomach even more and I ate all the berries I could possibly find. That will have to do for tonight. Tomorrow I would eat properly.

With sunken heart I found a hidden place among bushes and trees, shielded but still with good view of the lake. The ground was covered with dry moss, its smell reassuring. I laid my head on it and started to cry.

Of course I could not sleep. My white party dress was still uncomfortably wet but I dared not take it off. What if they come for me? I can't afford to lose time dressing up. But the night was surprisingly warm and except for some night creatures` noises in the distance nothing stirred it. I slept for about three hours.

xxx

When I woke up in the morning, it was crystal-clear that no one would come to take me home.

I threw away my only high-heeled shoe and barefoot set off for a journey to nowhere.

I followed the river down its flow. There are always towns and villages nearby, that's how we were taught at school. Remember? No matter what, always follow the water. By the position of the sun I roughly estimated I was heading south. The country slightly changed, now I was walking in vast lowlands covered with dry grass and scattered rocks. Still no sign of civilization. I did not remember this land. I was getting terribly hungry and my bare feet hurt. I desperately yearned to return to the bustling city I had hated all my life, with all its concrete, steel and glass and crowds of nameless faces; the chaotic traffic and the ever-present smog and noise. Even the job in a telecommunications company. Fuck them and their forced team-buildings! Fuck their yacht!

But there was only the silence and forces of nature. I was alone, unarmed, with no supplies, tottering on by the sheer power of will. I was very tired. If I died here perhaps I would not lose that much. No one would miss me.

Chapter 2

The next day started in the same way, with no changes in the landscape, no sign of a town whatsoever, not even a road! I slept very little last night and was even more hungry, my feet now bloodied with little wounds and scratches. Exhausted, I lay down in the shade of a large rock and drifted in a dreamless sleep. It was late morning.

And then something stirred at the back of my mind. Wake up, something is wrong!

I blinked and shielded my eyes, half-blinded by the sun. Sleepily I sat up to see something that made my eyes widen in shock.

I saw a group of the strangest creatures, not more than five, foul and hideous, approaching me at great speed. Dressed in animal skins and coarse metal plates, armed with primitive - but still! - metal hooks and maces, their faces not at all human. I could smell their sharp odour even from where I was sitting.

Am I dreaming?

I stood up clumsily, prepared to run, but the fastest one was already there and grabbed me by my arm fiercely. I screamed and cried out: “Stop it! What do you want from me?!” But he did not seem to understand. I kicked him and fought desperately but it only made them all laugh. He asked his fellows something in a sharp, coarse tongue and seemed to be satisfied with their answer. Suddenly he yanked me by my hair and made me fall on my knees. I cried out in pain. He unsheathed his primitive sword and pressed its tip to my throat. I felt it pierce my skin to drive a few drops of blood. Then the blade moved down to the neckline of my dress, agonizingly slowly. He held it with one hand and with the other one all of a sudden cut the thin cloth in one long, swift movement. I stared down at my nakedness in shock. A thin red scratch was crossing my stomach. I stood up and attacked him with all my remaining strength, kicking and biting where I managed to reach. They just laughed. Then I felt sharp pain on my left thigh and collapsed to the ground. This time he cut me very deep. I could not run away now.

Then he removed my panties and sank down on me with his full weight. He stank of fish and his rotten teeth made my stomach rise in disgust. With one strong movement he entered me and I cried out in sharp pain, tears of desperation filling my eyes.

Then something happened.

Out of nowhere a man sprang out, armed with a large silvery sword, and with battlecry on his lips sank the sword into my enemy's throat. Its tip stopped a few centimetres above mine. His blood splashed on my face and started to pour down on my chest wildly. Wide-eyed, he struggled to get off me and in that attempt smashed me in the head. All went blank for a split second and then I saw the silver blade once again and the creature's head flew away. The body collapsed on me, its weight holding me down once again.

The man shouted something towards me, something I could hardly understand, and turned to the others.

What happened next came like a strange end to a nightmare. I saw him move around swiftly, cutting off arms and piercing bodies. He occasionally cried out in effort but seemed to be a skilled warrior. The creatures were a little match to him. His blue cloak lined with fur moved around swiftly along with his dark long hair.

When the last enemy fell, he stood still and panting turned around to take in the situation - he searched the corpses around him and surroundings for any sign of movement.

Finally his gaze stopped on me, lying helpless on the ground.

He walked towards me, his right hand still holding the sword, prepared for anything, his face expressionless. He grabbed the corpse's arm and seemingly effortlessly rolled it over and away from me.

I stared down at me in shock. The only piece of garment to cover my nakedness was my once-white luxury bra, now covered with crimson blood. My decollete and belly were all sticky with the red liquid, out of which a few streams found their way down to my bare thighs and womanhood.

I made a frail attempt to cover myself and keep whatever dignity remained.

His steady gaze moved slowly across my body, from the bruises on my face, down to my belly and lingered on my shaking hands which tried to cover my secret places.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but instead turned his head away. From behind the rocks the wind brought in men`s shouts and sounds of hooves on the rocky ground.

He shouted in that direction in strong, commanding voice: “Stay where you are, all of you! Don't come here until I summon you!” It sounded like a mixture of old Norse and English, difficult to comprehend, yet still I understood.

And with that he kneeled beside me and asked matter-of-factly: “Are you hurt anywhere else?” and gestured towards the deep cut on my thigh.

“I… don't know.” I whispered and looked around, disorientation and shock taking their grasp of me now that it was over.

He took off his cloak and without a single word wrapped me in it, fastening it on my right shoulder with a buckle. My right hand was free but the left one stayed hidden under the cloth. He rolled the cloak up to reveal my thigh which was bleeding heavily. He examined the wound, his face that of perfect calmness, its expression impenetrable, his blue eyes ice-cold lakes. It felt very right though, under these circumstances.

He reached for my party dress which lay cut in two beside me and before pressing it to my wound, studied it briefly. I hissed in pain.

“Who are you?” he shot.

“I got lost…” I whispered out of my breath.

“Where is your village? Who do you travel with?”

“My village?” I blinked. “There is no village, we came yachting on the lake but then the storm came and I'm alone here now… I don't know what happened… How I got here… Why do you all carry swords? Where am I now?” I asked puzzled.

“Out of the lake…” he spoke for himself and then his face hardened.

“Dwalin! All, you may come!” he shouted towards the rock that shielded us.

There came hurried steps and surprised cries before I could actually see my saviour`s companions. What strange beings they were, short of stature, with ridiculous hair and beards and clad in the oddest garments which could only be seen in living history spectacles. They surrounded us and one of them, a grey-haired one, kneeled beside me in surprise while the others left to search the vicinity for any signs of other enemies. He raced off behind the rock only to reappear with a skin filled with transparent liquid that he poured on my wound. I hissed and a few tears escaped my eyes. I wiped them away with my one free hand. Then he forced a few tablespoons down my throat. He then bound my leg tightly with my dress to which appearance he paid no attention whatsoever.

“I cannot do more here, the wound needs proper sewing. She is losing blood.” He turned towards my saviour as if to ask for his approval.

The latter, while my wound was being tended to, wiped his sword clean and sheathed it. Now he was sitting a few metres away from us on a dead tree trunk, deep in thoughts, his eyes studying me. Now and then they turned towards the direction from which I had come.

He nodded slowly. There was certain gracefulness to it.

“Do not fear lass, you will be safe and sound with us,” smiled the grey-haired one to me as he tried to comfort me.

Their leader, for he surely was one, stood up and asked simply:

“Can you walk?”

Frowning, I struggled to my feet and made one weak step. But my sore feet betrayed me, and I would have fallen to the ground, had the grey-haired one not caught me. I clenched my teeth.

Their leader walked towards me and without a warning lifted me in the air.

“Put your arm around my neck,” he commanded. I did so and he carried me quite some distance towards their horses hidden behind the rocks.

As soon as we reached them, he put me down. I immediately grabbed the nearest saddle to steady myself. The animal, tall and graceful, glanced back at me in curiosity. How on earth am I supposed to ride a creature like that?

My saviour reached for a bag hanging from the side of the horse and produced a skin bottle. He handed it over to me without a word. It was wine, strong and sweet. I drank a few sips and wanted to return it to him, but he shook his head in disapproval. I drank some more until he finally looked satisfied. God, I will get drunk within minutes if they continue forcing to me their mixed alcohol! Considering that I have eaten nearly nothing in the past three days. I passed the bottle to him and he tucked it back into the side bag. Then he placed his hands on my hips and lifted me up into the saddle, both of my legs to one side. Then he swiftly mounted the horse himself.

I have never really ridden a horse and suddenly I found myself sitting on one. The height felt immense. I grabbed the horn with my right hand, the left one still covered by the cloak, and found it nearly impossible to hold stable in this position. The saddle was not a women`s one. As he positioned himself behind me, the horse moved slightly to the left and I gasped, trying desperately not to fall on my face. He placed both his hands in front and behind me and moved closer to reach for the reins. At that his long hair touched my face and I did my best not to look up at him and stay from his body as far as possible. We set off and my knuckles whitened with effort.

“You will fall if you avoid me,” he said under his breath and pulled me to him so that I was leaning on his chest now. I stiffened for a while, but indeed it was much easier for me to maintain balance like this.

We rode in silence for a good while, forming a fine line, the other three fellows before and after us. I could hear the horses` snorts and sound of hooves against the ground. The air was fresh and mild breeze started to blow. I risked a quick glance at him. He did not seem to notice.

His ice-blue gaze remained fixed on the horizon, distant and impenetrable, his features regular, his bearded jaw determined. He wore leather armour, encrusted with delicate plates of metal where I could see and feel, and under it dark blue chemise. His long hair cascaded down from his shoulders in waves, as a dark mane shielding a lion. It occasionally touched me as he moved his head. I cautiously took in his scent; it reminded me of old leather and spices, deeply masculine.

“Did he rape you?” he shot into the silence all of a sudden.

“What?!” I froze, hoping I had overheard. My face blushed blood-red in a second.

“Did the scum manage to rape you?” he whispered nearly inaudibly, just for my ears to hear. He looked down at me for a moment and continued to stare in front of him.

“You can`t ask me such things... ” I breathed, my voice shaking. Tears filled my eyes and all of a sudden I started to tremble as flashbacks of that day reappeared in front of my eyes. I still felt the sharp pain between my legs, the one single goddamn thrust I would remember all my life. I felt filthy and deceived.

He looked down at me again.

“I have saved you, of course I have the right to know,” he informed me, pausing for a while. “Your secret is safe with me though. They do not know, and will not guess,” he gestured towards his fellow riders. “You have long enough to decide how much you tell the healer by the time we return to the camp.”

He reached back for the side bag again and passed me the wine. I drank a few sips, unwillingly.

“More!” he commanded and pressed it to my lips again.

“Do you want me to get drunk?!” I protested weakly, pushing the bottle away.

“Aye,” was his simple and honest answer.

I drank some more and returned the bottle to him, nearly apologetically. “I don't like alcohol.”

“Then you have not tasted any good vintage wine. We store some special sorts in our cellars. And mead and strong beer,” he changed the subject.

But the damage was done, I already started to shake uncontrollably, shock of past events taking over what was left of my self-control. I cried bitterly, the wine surely helping my emotions to flow freely.

He made no attempt to hush me. We rode in uttermost silence for an eternity, I lost in my grief and he in his thoughts… perhaps. But the horse strode at regular pace and I cried long enough to exhaust myself.

“What is your name?” he interrogated finally.

“Kate Evans.”

“Kate Evans, where have you come from?”

“Rather tell me where we are now.”

“Certainly in eastern Rhovanion, by the Running River.”

I shook my head in disbelief. None of this made sense.

“This must be some nightmare.”

“It is what you make of it.”

And that was it. I was too tired to think any further, so I just asked:

“What was your name again?”

“Thorin.”

Chapter 3

I spent the rest of the journey half-awake, not really caring where they were taking me. But when I saw the red tents of a war camp in the distance, I was alert immediately. Right in front of us sprang out from the depths of the earth hundreds of tents, of natural and red colours, with banners and flags proudly erected, floating in the breeze. And war carriages, horses and rams, and soldiers, countless heads clad in heavy armour, very short, dwarf-like. They carried numerous kinds of weapons - mostly axes and spears - some practising their art of war, some sitting and eating, some resting on the grass doing nothing. But they all greeted us as our small company entered their lines, bowing their heads in salutation.

We stopped in front of the largest tent right in the centre of the camp. It was decorated with intricate patterns with symbolic meaning, as I guessed, and a pair of guards stood in front of its entrance. But what guards they were! Very tall, slender in their golden armour, with pointed ears and skin pale as if they had never seen the sun.

Thorin dismounted the horse, and to my astonishment, one of the guards reached out and carried me into the tent without being told to. His skin had a strange, opalesque tone to it, his features delicate as if carved from the rarest marble, adding to the unearthly ambiance around him. As he moved, he seemed to dance in the air with me in his arms.

The tent`s furnishing was very simple, with a few chairs, a large table with maps spread all over it, a massive wooden chest and a portable bed to the side of it. Effortlessly the guard carried me to the bed and laid me down on the furs. He bowed elegantly and returned to his post at the entrance. I heard Thorin order someone to bring in the healer and prepare some warm water and clean clothes. Then all went silent and I was left alone. I breathed out and sank into the furs. They felt unbelievably comfortable after the three days out in the wild!

Shortly thereafter I heard the guards salute to someone and a tall being of the same race was ushered. He wore beautiful silken robe, decorated with yellow and silvery ornaments, his long light hair secured in a simple yet utterly elegant hairstyle. He smiled at me and lowered his head in a warm greeting.

“My lady, I shall tend to your wounds now, if you allow me. My name is Amarth,” and with that he opened a wooden chest he had brought with him.

“I`m Kate. Thank you,” I replied and uncovered my bandaged thigh.

“The wound is deep and bleeds a lot. It will require immediate sewing. But you will walk after it is healed,” he encouraged me upon checking it. He then cleaned it and before the actual surgery reached out to touch my temples. He looked deeply in my eyes and my head started to swim. “You will feel no pain,” he said, and I did not, much to my surprise. But I did not have the guts to watch him work. I rather studied the room, concentrating on the sounds coming from the outside, until he was finished. He then tended to the cut on my stomach, little bruises and scratches on my feet and washed my face gently. Looking at the stained washing basin I realized how much blood I wore smeared all over my face! Then he washed my hands and arms and suggested that I clean the rest myself. He explained there were no other women in this camp to take care of me. He turned his back to me and sat at the end of the bed as I reached for the cloth.

“Are there any other wounds to be tended to?” he asked finally.

I hesitated for a moment. “No.”

“Are you sure, my lady? Deep in my heart I feel that you are hurting in other ways.”

“I am sure there are no other wounds,” I confirmed. What else could I say?

He replied nothing but I felt he did not quite believe me. I have just finished the hygiene and put on a clean men’s tunic that had been brought in for me, so he turned back to me, and to my great dismay, reached out to hold both his hands directly above my womb. I stiffened in a sudden strike of panic, but he did not touch me. I felt immense heat emanating from his palms and the pain between my legs started to ease until it finally disappeared. Then he placed his hands above my heart and made a small grimace of dissatisfaction.

“I have healed your body, my lady. The rest you will have to heal yourself.”

And with those words he left.

Chapter 4

I just realized that my dwarves as I describe them in this story are considerably tall, more or less of human height, just much more robust. I kind of can`t imagine looking down at Thorin or any other warrior! :) BUT you can imagine them as suits you.

Enjoy!

A few minutes after that they brought to me some soup to eat, with a few slices of bread. It tasted most delicious, especially in my state. And it was steaming hot, to finally warm me! Satisfied, I sank into the furs and let my eyes wander around the space. A dwarf-like, short man took the bowl away, only to return with a nice cup of strong herbal tea. I tasted some medicine in it, though.

”It will do you good,” he smiled, and backed away politely. The cloth in the entrance made a soft sound as he left.

I drifted in a shallow, disturbed sleep, though how long I slept, I did not know.

xxx

I opened my eyes to an early evening and stared in surprise at Thorin, seated on another bed on the opposite side of the tent. The table with the documents had been moved to make room for the new portable bed. Thorin had changed to a more comfortable, beige tunic, his dark hair sprinkled across his shoulders. An oil lamp to his side, the only source of light in the tent, cast dark shadows on his face. He looked dangerous.

“Amarth has done a good service to you. Your wounds will heal soon,” he spoke quietly, but sternly.

“Thank you… I want to thank you for all you…” I started slowly, my eyelids heavy from sleep and the calming medicine.

“Kate Evans, where have you come from?” he interrupted me all of a sudden, his gaze direct and penetrating.

I blinked. “I come from Norway, although my father is British. How I came here, I honestly don't know…” I paused, waiting for his reaction.

He raised his eyebrow. “That Norway. Where is that supposed to be?”

“It's a country in Europe, of course.”

“And that is?”

“A continent on Earth,” I replied in disbelief.

He stared at me, his fiery eyes growing even darker. “No more jests, Kate Evans! I want to hear the truth now!”

“But that is the truth!” I exclaimed, my voice rising shakily. “I honestly don't know! I don't know what happened to that wreck of a ship and where I am now! Where is this Rhovanion? I can't even check my GPS, I lost my cell in the damn water!” Now I was nearly yelling, tears in my eyes. “Who the hell were those creatures?” I collapsed onto the bed at the sudden pain which sprang from the cut on my belly.

Losing his temper, he grabbed a large parchment from the table and strode towards me. He tossed it on my bed and stood there towering, waiting for something. When I did not react, he pointed a finger to a lowland by a river, and I understood that was our location.

“Show me.”

I turned my eyes to the map once again. I realized I didn't recognize any of the rivers, towns or mountains. “I can't. This is not how Europe looks. Do you have a world map? A map depicting other continents?” I inquired, hoping I would finally persuade him that I was not a liar.

“Middle-Earth is the only continent on Arda as we know it now,” he replied gravely and took the parchment from my hands.

My heart sank. I did not try to wipe away the tears that quietly flew from my eyes now. I realized I could not tell him more about me and my… world. The thought struck me as a lightning. This must be some strange world, another world, another reality, perhaps even dimension! How else can you explain all that had happened?!

“This is a nightmare,” I sighed under my breath.

“Rest now,” he commanded and extinguished the oil lamp. Then he turned away and walked out of the tent. “Summon the generals!” I heard him growl to someone. As he rolled the cloth aside, the moonlight glistened on the golden helmet of one of the guards. It was the one who carried me in his arms earlier today.

I must have drifted in a heavy, dreamless sleep, for I did not wake up when Thorin returned. And I did not want to wake up at all, that was true.

xxx

The early morning found me sound asleep. I awoke to the muffled voices in front of the tent and then Amarth walked in, gracious as always, wearing his splendid silken robes and on his lips the ever-present smile. The cloth shielding the entrance was pulled to one side and secured there to let in the pale sunlight. He lowered his head in a greeting and sat down by my side on the bed.

“My lady, will you allow me,” and he touched my forehead to check my temperature. “You look better today. How was your night?”

“I didn't sleep very well…”

“Certainly because of me. We had some heavy conversation last night,” came the deep grunting voice from the right. I turned my head to the direction from which I heard it coming. Thorin was lying on his bed, half sitting, half leaning on one arm, enjoying his breakfast. With his free hand he reached for some cheese from a plate laid in front of him.

“She was lucky enough to be able to speak, after all the spirits that had been forced unto her yesterday,” Amarth said very calmly, turning to Thorin, and I was not entirely sure if he meant it as a joke after all.

“It did its job,” Thorin nodded, satisfied.

“It surely did, your Majesty.”

What did he just say?! I inhaled sharply, my cheeks turning red in a second. Was I sharing a room with a king? And… did I shout at one just last night? I bit my lip and looked away, embarrassed. I could have guessed. By the way he spoke, moved and gave orders, and the air of authority which seemed to tame all defiance. But then again, I could have not. To introduce himself as king Thorin when we met each other would have sounded… out of place.

Amarth leaned in to examine the little scratches on my face and hands and then he showed to my leg. “Will you?”

I stared at him for a moment not understanding what he wanted me to do. “Oh.. yes,” He was either being so terribly polite or he did not want me to feel any kind of menace. Which I appreciated very much. I pulled away the fur to uncover my leg. He removed the bandage and started to cleanse the wound. The air filled with scent of herbs and fresh linen, mixing with dried blood. I watched him work. I felt grateful that someone cared for me in this horrid world, let it be a doctor caring for his patient.

“I will not have much time for this later,” he said while reaching for a clean bandage. “Not after the army returns.”

“Where are they going?”

“To war,” replied Thorin instead of him. He was towering in the entrance, already taking his leave, with his back to us. “We are at war.”

“When... are you leaving?” I breathed, unsure of my future once again.

“In one hour.”

“Then… good luck,” were the only words that came to my mind. What else could I say? Farewell and thank you if you don't return? I choked on the sentence but I think he kind of understood because he turned his head to me and nodded. Then he stepped out into the light.

Chapter 5

We were left alone now. Amarth asked me to pull up my tunic so that he could examine the cut. I hesitated for a moment, remembering that I wore no panties now. So I pulled the furs up to my waist and did as he told me, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I felt ashamed because all his care reminded me painfully of all that had been done to me. I pressed my lips to a thin line when he smeared an ointment over the already forming scar.

“Do not worry, the wound will leave no marks. It will turn invisible in a few months,” he smiled reassuringly.

“I doubt there will be anyone to check,” I said bitterly but regretted it immediately because I said more than I wanted. “I wish I could return home.”

He finished what he was doing and looked me in the eyes for a long moment, as if searching for an answer.

“You have come from very far, indeed. Yet your journey back is impossible, I fear.” I gulped, but he continued. “This is a good world, you might grow to like it in time. Once this war against evil is over.”

And he spoke to me of Thorin's kingdom and this world, vast and strange as it was. Of the dwarves and the elves and other races that inhabited it, and of the hideous orcs and goblins who grew so wild and dangerous in recent years that war seemed inevitable to tame them. He told me how Thorin became the king after a long and exhausting battle which came to be known as the Battle of Five Armies, where his two descendants died. Victory was his, but he grew bitter and untrustful, darkness and rage poisoning his heart for ten long years. But then the orcs arose once again and chose to ride the neighbourhood, occasionally crossing the borders of the dwarven kingdom, killing and ransacking all the good that had remained. The last drop was a village burnt to the ground two weeks ago, just one-day ride from Erebor. That was when the decision was made to march against the orcs with full force, deep into the fields of wilderness. Elven king Thranduil sent his elite five hundred warriors for help, among them the personal guard that I had had the chance to meet already. And Amarth along with them. Then Amarth came to the point where our paths crossed. Thorin was leading a scouting expedition with his most faithful ones, that was when they found me. And today the future would be decided.

I came to understand that this was a world on the level of European Middle Ages, full of danger and grief. I was terrified by its sheer rawness and the possibility that I could be killed or hurt at any given time for literally no reason. It was so very far from my peaceful home in the overcrowded city, dull but safe! I thought I would never get used to it. And I didn't want to think of what I would do after my wounds are healed, where I would go. I was devastated.

Chapter 6

It was long past midnight when I heard the army return, the shouts and cries preceding it. Thousands of victorious voices rising in wild joy and laughter.

Then came Thorin's voice, summoning the keepers of the camp to care for the wounded. “Balin! Call for Amarth and Oin! Keep the wounded here in the centre so that the healers can access them at any time. Gloin, prepare the generals' tent for those who need surgery. Count the dead and wounded and report to me immediately!” Soon fire-flames sprang up all around the camp, I could see the night lighten and shine. After an hour came the smell of mutton being roasted and the voices started to slowly calm down.

The curtain at the entrance moved and Thorin walked in with his head proudly erect, his face smeared with blood and dirt, his hair hanging down his shoulders in thick messy ropes. He breathed out exhausted to death, his eyes closing for a brief moment, his shoulders finally relaxing. Then he looked at me and smiled.

“Congratulations,” I smiled back at him.

He nodded towards me in agreement, his eyes flickering with satisfaction. “I will have to keep you, Kate. Now that the future has been decided.”

I blushed deeply, not knowing what to reply. “I will not disturb you for too long, I will find my way out of this.”

“I strongly doubt that,” came the answer.

He collapsed to a chair and immediately after that Amarth sped in with his wooden chest and flowing hair.

“Where was the wound, your Majesty?” He helped Thorin get rid of his metal and leather armour that covered his upper body and arms. Thorin removed his tunic, growling at that movement in pain. Right under his arm, straight from the armpit down to the ribs came a nasty wound, where some blade found its way through the unshielded surface. Amarth ordered more light to be brought in and started to work on the wound immediately. Thorin rested his head on the back of the chair and in silence watched the healer do his job.

“Your Majesty should have summoned me earlier. You are risking your health for no reason,” uttered Amarth.

“Nonsense! Rather tell me how many of my warriors are wounded heavily. When is it appropriate to leave for Erebor?”

“I did not count those but we will need to perform several surgeries today the whole night long... Maybe tomorrow until the afternoon, that is if all present healers help with no breaks to recover their strength. But we will manage to save many lives, if Iluvatar smiles at us. The losses suffered seem heavier than they are.”

“Good. Then we shall leave in two days. Let us recover from the worst and head home at the soonest. Will you accompany us to Erebor, Amarth? Your task is over now that we have won. But you can stay as my guest as long as you wish. As a thank you,” he eyed Amarth in calm anticipation.

“It is my pleasure, your Majesty,” Amarth bowed his head. “I got used to dwarvish ways. I can stay until my king summons me back to Mirkwood,” he replied as he reached for warm water and soap. He cleansed Thorin's chest and face from all the blood - I was not entirely sure if all of it was his - and to my surprise, when he reached for his hair, Thorin halted him with a simple gesture.

“Don't waste your time here. Go and tend to those who need it.”

Amarth left us in haste, his long dress flapping at the entrance cloth at that. Then Thorin turned his attention to me. “It is your turn now, Kate.”

His request startled me. I blinked in surprise and lingered for a few moments.

“I do not have to tell you the reasons, do I?” he mouthed slowly, his stern eyes locked with mine.

I shook my head. Of course I would help him. Did he not help me? I shook off the furs that covered me and got to my feet hesitantly. I was quite weak still but fought the dizziness with all my remaining strength. I walked slowly towards him and collapsed to another chair behind him. I cautiously brushed his hair away from his face and poured some warm water over it. I looked around for some shampoo but all I could find was some basic soap. I doubted the dwarves would carry such useless things with them to war, so soap would have to do for now. I washed his hair as diligently as I could. He did not seem to enjoy it, nor did he seem dissatisfied. Then I wiped it dry and looked around for a comb. Of course there was none. So I used my fingers to at least untangle his hair, the thick wavy mane that it was.

“Your husband will miss this,” he turned to me to watch me closely.

“My husband? I'm not married.” I admitted. “Nor engaged. Nobody will miss me, if this is what you want to hear,” I whispered.

“How come? Are you not of the age?”

“Of course I am… but I don't want to talk about this.”

“You will not talk to me?” he asked menacingly, his eyes flashing with nearing rage.

“I will… but not about this. Please.”

“Is that a custom in Norway?”

“It's personal, Thor… Your Majesty.”

“You have lost all your secrets the very moment I found you. You must get accustomed to it. I will ask questions and you will answer them. I require that. No exceptions, Kate.”

I inhaled sharply. “It's not as you think. The age is not important in my country. We marry when we find the right spouse.”

“Did your father fail to find a proper man for you?”

“It's my decision and my choice, the family have nothing to do with it, of course.”

“So how does an unmarried woman make her living?” Thorin leaned in, frowning. “Does she walk the streets?” He growled under his breath.

“Of course not! Our women study and work! We are independent of the men! We live on our own, decide on our own and love on our own!” I was starting to get pretty irritated. “Even without marriage!”

That set him ablaze. He stood up, eyeing me angrily, his naked chest moving heavily under the bandage. “Where do you belong then?! Who keeps you safe at times of war, when you walk alone in the open land, when you are sick? When you have no kin of yours? What is it that you do for living, Kate?”

“Do you think me a whore?!” I shouted at him, mad to the point that my hands started to shake.

He shook his head. “Answer me.”

I inhaled three times, ever so slowly, to calm down. “You don't understand. We are safe in the public... Well, mostly. And the society, the government takes care of us if we need…” at those words he gave me the “do-you-really-mean-that” look. I felt I was slowly losing my ground. “I work in a telecommunications company, it's hard to explain.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes… I work with computers and.... Basically help my customers interact, communicate, exchange and store information.” Well, could I explain what a high-end server and storage was?

“Do you carry a weapon?”

“No.”

“Can you use any?”

“No!” I saw where he was heading. “I don't need it!”

He raised his eyebrow. “I see. Can you work in the field, Kate?”

I blushed the brightest red. “No.”

“Can you bake bread?”

“Stop this, Thorin!”

“I will not repeat myself!”

I shook my head, starting to feel desperate. This conversation was taking a turn I didn't like. And worst of all, he addressed the weak points in my past urban life, which I didn't have the courage to name myself. The dull everyday work, which made no sense, with no physical results. Just the eight-hour work at my desk, my eyes tired of the screens, day by day, year after year, in the bustling city that never slept, with all the nameless faces which didn't care. They just didn't. I had a few friends and acquaintances, that was all. He'd made his point. Tears of desperation filled my eyes.

“That is not a good place to stay,” he whispered, and it almost felt soothing.

“Is this one better?!” my voice shook.

“No, it is not. But there are people one can depend on.” He said surprisingly calmly. “Go to rest now. You have served me well today.”

“I`m not serving anyone!” I exclaimed.

“Are you not?” his eyes turned the darkest shade of blue. “I am running out of patience, Kate. Beware of what you say or you will face the consequences.”

I stood up abruptly, taking my leave angrily, but my sore body and stirred mind betrayed me. I would have fallen to the ground had Thorin not caught me. Without a single word, he lifted me in the air, grinning at the pain he obviously felt spreading from his new wound, and carried me towards my bed. He laid me in the furs and said in a very quiet but ever so menacing voice: “This is the second time I had to carry you. You had better think of a good way to return these favours to me.”

Chapter 7

I awoke at the feeling of draught penetrating the tent. Shivering into the brisk morning air, I pulled the furs up to my chin. The sound of light rain against the tent cloth made me sink back with a slight sigh. I was alone here and with nobody else to upset me. I had some serious thinking to be done. Where would I go after I was healed? Could I try to search the lake one more time and possibly return home? I clung to the thought that I had missed something there and then, when all this happened. Some important clue. I needed to find out more, to have at least some plan, otherwise I'd go mad.

Later that day, I was visited by Amarth, and the grey-haired dwarf whom I had met on the first day, Oin. They did not talk much though. They inquired briefly how I felt and left to tend to the soldiers. I was brought a bowl of warm stew which tasted deliciously. Thorin returned in the afternoon, and along with him four dwarves whom I had never seen. By their expensive looking garments and armour I guessed they could be soldiers of a higher rank, or generals. They discussed their matters in a harsh, throaty tongue which I did not understand but occasionally heard from the outside camp. Finally, Thorin tapped one of them on the shoulder and they all left, smiling. I appreciated that so much.

Early next morning, just at daybreak, I was brought clean men's pants and a pair of leather boots. They did not fit my feet entirely but they had to do for the journey. It took several hours to pack the entire war camp, but we managed to set off still in the morning. I was helped into a covered carriage driven by a pair of heavy horses. I sat on a chest full of some beans, around me large sacks of flour, loaves of bread and smoked meat. I could even smell some coffee. A half-conscious elven soldier was lain beside me on the floor, on several layers of cloth. I was told he was being taken home to Mirkwood to be treated properly. I wanted to ask where that was, but we had to make haste. From time to time a soft cry escaped his lips, but we did not talk at all, he was too weak to even try. As we moved, I could hear steady raindrops bump against the canvas, and the sound soothed me to a sweet half-dream.

We travelled like this for three days, stopping regularly for food and relief of the stretched legs. At night the soldiers slept in the open, with the saddles under their heads. I stayed in the carriage though. It was very uncomfortable but still better than for most of us, so I did not object. I did not notice it at first, but the longer I travelled with no companion to talk to, I started to realize that the dwarves marching just behind my carriage avoided direct eye contact with me. This was becoming very strange. Thorin passed by us once a day while inspecting his army, giving me an unconcerned look from the back of his black stallion. He spoke a few words to the two elvish guards who rode by both sides of my carriage and left. I was starting to feel like a prisoner. What was wrong?

On the third evening I heard someone shout “Halt!” and our snake-like line stopped winding by a large forest, its trees tall and ancient beyond words. I heard some of the dwarves whisper "Mirkwood!", their eyes turning to the branches in a superstitious awe. I felt their sudden restlessness. That was when the elvish forces regrouped to a long narrow line and disappeared in the forest, taking my sick companion and other disabled kin with them. Their golden helmets glistened in the fading light and as they entered the dark depths, I could swear I heard the forest sigh with relief that its children had returned.

Amarth and a few personal guards stayed with us. Our carriages formed a large semi-circle as if for protection from an unknown enemy. This was very unusual. But the dusk was nearing and Thorin did not want to travel by night.

As I lay down to rest in the silence, I saw Thorin's silhouette passing by all alone in the dark blue light. He lingered at the border of the forest for a while, listening, waiting for something, his right hand resting on his sword's hilt. Then he turned around and strode towards my carriage. He spotted me fully awake and facing him, and stopped at the entrance. The darkness prevented me from seeing his expression.

“What is out there that you were watching?” I whispered with my heart in my throat.

“Nothing to be afraid of now,” he murmured and stepped into the carriage. He laid down on the floor beside me, spread flat on his back with all his garments and sword by his side.

I laid back as well, but his presence at this distance was quite unnerving. I decided to break the odd silence.

“What is hiding in the forest? Tell me, please.”

“Mirkwood is an ancient and powerful place, full of hate and evil. There are beasts and spirits hungering for flesh. Sometimes they come out at night, but it is very improbable that we see them tonight. We are keeping our distance.” He explained matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” I shrugged at the thought. My pulse quickened. I stared at the opening in the canvas. There was no moon tonight and the night grew dark and weary.

“You asked.”

“Yes.”

“Try to sleep now.”

I turned my back to him and closed my eyes. I couldn't fall asleep for a long time though, and when I did, I dreamt of wolves and dragons in flight. They were nearing and I screamed but no voice came out of my lungs.

I awoke into the dead of the night all drenched in sweat. I sat up with a feeling of danger at hand but could not put my finger on why. Thorin's silhouette by my side moved to touch his sword. I knew he was listening as well.

Then came the cry of a guard, tearing the silence with its sharp intensity. It seemed to be quite near. And then the strange shrieking and hissing sounds of an animal which I did not know. Thorin was on his feet in a second. He jumped down from the carriage and spat his “Stay here!” at me. And he was away, running to the right and behind the carriage towards where Mirkwood spread. Then came other voices of soldiers shaken from their sleep, neighing of horses and sounds of fighting.

I froze and dared not move, my head blank with fear, my heart racing. After a few breaths I moved cautiously towards the entrance and risked a quick glance out into the night but saw nothing. I desperately needed to know what was going on, so I stepped out of the carriage and slowly moved in the direction where Thorin had run. What revealed in front of my eyes was like risen from a nightmare. About fifty metres away from me, a large spider-like creature rose in attack. Around it about ten dwarves, shouting and stabbing the beast with swords and axes. From the direction of the forest other three spiders ran, I could hear their hissing even here. I saw a silvery blade rise and just then a voice of horn sounded in alarm. I heard the sound of hooves behind me and then all went still.

xxx

I could feel the fire before I actually opened my eyes. Above me the worried face of Amarth and the touch of his healing hands. He spoke to me but I could not make out his words at first. To my left Oin aiding him.

“...my lady! Can you hear me?”

I nodded but a million sparks of pain exploded in front of my eyes. My leg hurt as well.

“Do not move, everything will be alright,” advised Oin.

“What happened?” I breathed out.

“You are lucky the horse didn't kill you, lass. It rolled over you but we managed to get you from under it before it did you more damage,” he explained, adding some extra drama. “You have a couple more bruises but the worst is that your largest wound has reopened, judging by the blood. All the work from the last days is ruined. We have to start all over again.”

“Oh… but the spiders...?”

“Nobody was killed,” he smiled reassuringly. “Just a few wounded soldiers to be tended to, and you, of course.” He blinked at me. “But do not worry, we will fix you.”

“Thank you, Oin.” I managed a weak smile.

Then my eyes met Thorin's gaze. He was standing above us with his hands crossed across his chest in a menacing gesture. By his looks I could tell he was in terrible rage, his once ice-cold eyes gleaming and he would breathe fire as a dragon if he just could.

“Did I not tell you to stay in the carriage?!” he shot.

“Well… yes. But as you can see, I paid my price already,” I showed at my leg bitterly.

“You must learn to obey my orders!”

“Obey your orders?” I could not believe what he was saying. “I`m not your subject! Look, I owe you a lot, you helped me, without any doubt. But I will leave as soon as I can and we'll just wrap this all up.”

“You are not going anywhere.”

It took a few seconds until his words sank in. “What?! What did you just say?!” That bastard! I wanted to tell him more but my head started spinning from the loss of blood and all the excitement. At the edge of my sight I saw Oin and Amarth exchange worried looks.

“Do not speak, my lady. Try to relax. You have lost a lot of blood,” spoke Amarth, eyeing Thorin directly. Thorin took a deep shaky breath. I could see he was fighting his emotions with all the strength of his reason, and it was a difficult fight. After a few more breaths he seemed to tame the anger. He spoke very slowly now, carefully choosing his words.

“Tend to her wounds. Make sure she recovers her strength before we return. And explain to her how things are in Erebor.” Then he turned his back to us and left.

I could tell Oin was quite beside himself from our conversation. The dwarves definitely did not speak to Thorin in the way that I did. He was their king, of course, but I just could not help myself. I was not used to their ancient ways. Their admiration and obedience to their superiors. All the loyalty I could not understand. I was brought up as an independent woman, how could I bear such behaviour?

Amarth turned to me with a slight smile. “There we are. Shall we begin now?”

Then they cut my pants on one side to gain access to the wound and started to work. After all was finished, they covered me with an extra blanket and stayed with me watching the fire, occasionally checking if I was alright. They spoke of the attack, and that all were surprised that the spiders dared to come out of the forest. Amarth explained that it was indeed very unusual, but not entirely impossible. This night was moonless and the creatures felt safe under the cover of darkness. And hunger does its magic, he emphasized. They did not mention Thorin nor dwarvish ways though. Oin wanted to give me some time to recover and choose a proper occasion to talk, as I later discovered.

When my eyes grew hazy, they helped me back into my carriage. I slept all alone that night, my dreams heavy with tiredness of that day.

Chapter 8

It took another long and weary day until we finally reached Erebor. I did not see the mountain from my carriage but could sense we were nearing by the cheerful mood of the dwarves and the change of the terrain which grew mountainous and the climate a little colder. The mists were rolling in front of my eyes thick and heavy. I was left waiting in front of the gate, watching the whole army march away towards my back. After them the sick and the wounded, various helpers in charge of the supplies, tents and gear, and then the horses and war chariots. At last, a wide-armed dwarf called Dwalin showed up and helped me out of the carriage. He lifted me in the air effortlessly and strode into the gigantic gate.

I was ushered into a small dark chamber at the beginning of a long and narrow corridor with numerous doors. Dwalin mounted several staircases with me, but then I lost count. It could have been ten floors or more. As I learnt later, the king's private chambers were located on the very top, just one floor above mine. There I dwelled for full three weeks, resting on a bed made of massive dark wood, its linen white as snow, its velvet covers the colour of the reddest wine. The room was furnished with basic and simple accessories - a large chest of drawers, a padded armchair and opposite the bed, a cosy fireplace. It did not give away much heat though, and at nights I often felt cold. I guessed the dwarves were much more warm-blooded than me. The walls of grey solid rock bore no coating, save for a single tapestry. To my right was a high narrow window overlooking vast plains covered with rocks and dried grass, on the left partly shielded by the solid rock of which the Lonely Mountain was made. The sharp winds which were blowing in these heights broke on its edge, their currents flowing past my window without ever touching it. Occasionally, I could hear them sighing in the fissures of the stone.

My only companions in those days were Oin and Amarth. There came a dwarvish maiden three times a day to serve to me meals, but she did not speak to me at all. My attempts to speak to her came along unnoticed. She smiled at me briefly and turned away. After a few days I tired of trying to befriend her. I remained silent throughout the day, lost in dark thoughts in this dark room and cold kingdom. Only Amarth seemed to enjoy my company and spoke to me long every other day when he came to tend to my wounds and check my condition.

“They accommodated you in the lightest chamber in Erebor,” he spoke to me once when I complained about the ever-present darkness. “Which you can consider an act of favour. The dwarves are used to much harsher conditions.” He smiled. I felt he enjoyed my company being an outsider in this realm as well. He seemed to be able to translate the dwarvish behaviour to me so that I understood… or was starting to understand… until one day.

That was when early in the rainy morning, I suppose it was on Tuesday, Oin came in and sat on a stool by my bed. “Does the thigh hurt still?” he inquired with an undertone in his voice which sounded strange.

“It does… but it's getting better every day… unless I move.” I looked at him in anticipation.

He nodded. I sensed he was trying to think of a gentle way to tell me something which I might not quite like.

“What will become of me? I was not sentenced to death, right?” I interrupted the awkward silence to ask him directly.

“Ugh, no, lass,” he smiled unwillingly.

“When do you think I can leave? I need to… return home.”

“Given your condition and circumstances, I do not think you will leave… unless Thorin decides otherwise.”

“What do you mean by that? I'm not a prisoner, right?”

“Well,” I felt a sudden strike of panic at this word. “In our lands, if someone saves your life, you owe him. You are in debt for the rest of your life, and it is anticipated that you pay your debts to the last coin, so to say. It is up to your saviour to decide the proper way that you do so. In most cases, you stay in the household or vicinity to help your saviour with everyday life. You can call that a life-long companion or a servant, if your master is fair enough. Sometimes it's a slave. Sometimes even worse. And sometimes you are fred, if Mahal allows and you deserve it.”

Thorin's ‘I will have to keep you, Kate. Now that the future has been decided’ flashed in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“Deserve?! I didn't ask him to fucking save me! The orcs could have let me go in the end.”

“I am not in position to judge His Majesty`s decisions, lass. But if it helps you understand - the orcs never free their captives.”

“But that's not fair! He can't hold me here against my will!” I exclaimed, feeling the blood rush into my face in anger.

“Of course he can. He has every right to do as he wishes, by our law and tradition. You will remain in this chamber until his Majesty decides your fate. Until then, you have no name and no position in this kingdom.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nobody calls you by your name until your master decides your duties and you are given a new name. Understand this - you practically died and are reborn to a new life, bound to your saviour, with a new name. You lost all and gained all. The responsibility of how your life goes is now on Thorin's shoulders. Even more that you are unmarried.”

“You can't be fucking serious! This all is so sick!” I yelled at him. “What does my love life have to do with it?!”

“He can't let you go because you have no father or husband to tend to you, of course.”

“Yeah, I noticed that`s a great deal for you. If you just let me go you'd get rid of this burden that I am to all of you.”

“Don't waste too much of your strength on your anger.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Try to rest, you will get used to it in time. All is good, believe me.”

I collapsed on the pillows, tears of anger and humiliation stinging in my eyes.

I hated Erebor. I hated all the dwarves. And above all, I hated Thorin Oakenshield.

XXX

Nightmares disturbed my sleep since that day. I saw myself being dragged into a deep pit full of fire, and on its bottom, a devil-like creature calling me by my name, in Thorin's deep voice. And a pair of chalices, we poured to them water from the lake I drowned in, and exchanged them. It took me a few days until Oin`s words sank in and I moved a little closer to accepting my situation. All things pass in time, I once heard, but I doubted the person who said this had ever experienced any wrongdoing in their life.

Then one day, the massive wooden door opened and Thorin walked in. He wore a dark tunic secured with a large ornamented belt and black leather pants. There was no sight of adornments or any jewels pointing to his royal status. He stood by my bed with an air of authority, yet still with certain casual grace.

“How are we doing today?”

“Much better, thank you.”

He nodded. “It has been a long time.” He leaned in slowly and touched my chin with his index finger and thumb, lifting my face gently so that he could better inspect my skin. The scratches were almost gone, and he seemed satisfied. It was just me that felt awkward at the sudden intimacy. I avoided his gaze on purpose. He noticed that and smirked. Then without a warning, he pulled my blanket away and uncovered my wounded leg before I could protest. I felt sudden strike of panic as unwelcome memories flashed in front of my eyes. I screamed and reached for the blanket to pull it back, but he grabbed my hand and pinned it down. He sat down on the bed, shortening the distance between us, and murmured under his breath: “Don`t you dare to defy me!”, clearly enjoying this moment. He waited for a few more breaths and when I did not move, with one hand he slowly pulled my sleeping tunic away to uncover my thigh. The nasty wound was still there, although I did not need to wear a bandage anymore. An ugly thick scar was forming on the white skin, but luckily enough, the flesh was not inflamed.

He breathed out and slided his gaze across my body, the whole length from my leg, across my stomach and chest, and stopped to lock with my eyes. “The rest I will inspect later.” I gulped and he smirked at that. I looked away and desperately hoped that he just leaves.

“Look at me.” came the command.

I reluctantly looked him in the eyes, the deep blue lakes that they were. He reached out to touch my cheek, and traced the line of my lips with his thumb, ever so slowly. My breathing came in shallow gasps, as I fought my once again rising panic. “You do not need to be afraid.” He voiced nearly inaudibly, and I sensed in him understanding of what was going on in me... and fight to suppress his own nature. His hand was warm and his steady touch surprisingly comforting. He entangled his fingers with the back of my head and stroked the back of my neck. My muscles relaxed a little.

“Good girl. We will continue later.” At that he rose and gracefully left the chamber. The door closed and I was left all alone but with my confusion.

Chapter 9

A few hours after that a tall female dwarf entered my chamber, her decent perfume filling the air as she moved gracefully, her long dress sweeping the floor. She was beautiful, with fair skin and black hair cascading down her shoulders, with a few streams braided at the back of her head. She wore simple but expensive dark blue dress and silver earrings which matched her pale blue eyes, embodiment of utter elegance. She stood in front of me with her arms folded across her chest as she studied me openly.

“So you are the little slave girl,” she said, her voice a melodic one, more to herself than to me.

“Obviously. Don't bother asking about my name. It doesn't matter anyway.” I was already pretty irritated.

She burst out in laughter, ringing sincere laughter which caught me by surprise. She was even more beautiful like that. “Thorin said you were a strange creature but I did not expect this! And in much better condition than I had thought! You are practically healed,” she smiled.

“And you are?”

“I am the one asking questions.” She made a small pause. “I will assign duties you are able to perform. Now, can you cook, iron, sew, knit, do any kind of needlework?”

I answered honestly I could do some ironing and simple needlework and was an average cook, at which she raised her eyebrow but did not comment. She thought for a brief moment and then nodded. “I will send in some clothes that need simple repairs and ironing. It is a temporary solution until you feel good enough to climb the staircases and join other staff.”

I did not reply. Instead of threatening me, she sat down at the edge of my bed and studied me for a long moment. “His Majesty requires that. I am in charge of his household and will see to you performing your tasks properly.” Her voice softened now. “You seem to be an intelligent woman, Katherine of Norway. Do not mess this up at the very beginning.” Touching my hand gently, she whispered. “He does not deserve it after all.”

I blinked. Did he speak to her about our conversation in the war tent? “You seem to know a lot. I don't think I understand your position here.”

“Of course I do know, being His Majesty's dear sister.” At this she straightened her shoulders. “My name is Dis, you are Kate. All is clear now, formalities aside. I know your name but cannot use it in public. That is how things are in Erebor. But sooner or later you will have to make up your mind. Live here as a complete stranger and suffer or accept our ways and what our family has to offer you. Think about it very carefully.” Then she smiled and changed the subject. “Now, I will have your supper sent in. Your door will have to remain unlocked as you are everyone`s property now. Good night my dear.”

“When will I be given the keys?”

“When you are given your new name.”

She left me silent and grim. The wild autumn wind howled in the chimney and I shuddered at the sound.

XXX

The next day a large pile of freshly washed and dried clothes and linen was brought in and the servant girl pushed a low working table next to my bed. I could stand next to it until my leg tired and then have a rest as long as I needed. She showed me how to use their iron, as strange as it was. She took a few steaming wood pieces from the fireplace and shoved them in the iron`s opening, then waited for the tool to heat. Then I could do the ironing as usual, with a few sprinkles of water on the linen, although it needed a little more strength compared to modern electric irons. I did not complain though. At least I had something to spend my lonely hours with, and in fact I was not overloaded at all, Dis made sure of that. The ironing took about one or two hours a day. I was also given a new dress to wear during the day, very simple with no ornaments but comfortable. It was of the deepest forest green colour, the fabric rather thick but soft against my skin, its ankle length helping me retain as much warmth as possible in the cold days. Under it I wore a very light cream tunic with no sleeves as a kind of underwear and light leather shoes with thin sole.

Soon I was ordered to make small garment repairs, mostly stitching of tiny holes. I must have done quite well, because one day I discovered a familiar fur-lined cloak on top of the pile. I recognized a tiny blood stain on its edge where the meticulous washing had failed, and I shuddered.

I was slowly getting used to this life. The monotonous work with needle and iron, regular food and silence, except for the howling wind, was a soothing balm for my shaken nerves. Once in a while, in my stronger moments, I dared to open the door and peek out through the corridor. It was long and dark, with a few oil lamps secured on the walls, and an unrecognizable source of natural light - there must have been some hidden window or an opening in the heights. The corridor was lined with a series of other doors on both its sides, stretching as far as I could see to the left. As I learned later, it was inhabited by lower ranking officials and guests. To the right opened a staircase overlooking a huge, vast hall, resembling an abyss. I could see three floors on the opposite side from where I was standing, and was sure there were much more of them leading up and down which I could not see. The space between the mountain sides was enormous, echoing in its void, making the inhabitants look as unimportant and tiny as ants.

I was soon assigned the task to sweep the floor in this corridor. I did so daily, the servant girl reminding me of it by bringing a bucket of water in front of my door and knocking loudly. I was allowed to take my time so that I don't get exhausted.

Weeks passed and early winter crept in. I watched the first snowflakes dance in the wind, swirling in wild abandon, out of my shielded window. The days grew gray and even more silent, and I remembered bitterly I had not been out of the mountain for one single minute since I had arrived. Dis gave me a walking stick for support on walks longer than my corridor. I used it frequently to roam about and discover my strange surroundings, but preferred to choose the lonely hours of the night when I could not sleep. And there were fewer eyes to watch me. I did not make it to the main gate though, the ten floors were simply too much for my unused muscles.

That was when Dis entered my room to inform me about my new assignment. “You have done very well,” she smiled. “You can leave what you have been doing. Starting tomorrow, you will assist His Majesty with his morning routine.”

I nervously swallowed, and she giggled. “Now do you know how to behave in His Majesty's presence?”

I wanted to tell her that I should not call him a bastard in the first place, but then just shook my head.

“Never mind. First of all, never address him by his name. Never speak to him first, wait for him to start the conversation. If he asks you a question, address him as Your Majesty in your first sentence. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. One more thing, when you enter and leave his chambers, give a small curtsy. Just like this.” And she put her right foot behind her left and briefly bent at the knees. “It is easy.” And she patted me on the shoulder reassuringly.

Her silver-like ringing laughter echoed in my ears long after she had left.

Chapter 10

Next morning, a male servant opened my door to shake me from my deep sleep. It was very early, just before the dawn, and the skies were still dark. I quickly washed and dressed, and half asleep, with my hair all tangled, hurried after him to the upper floor. This was the highest floor, as I learnt, and I could tell that it looked different, lush and richly decorated at first sight. All from the dark red carpet to the dozens of oil lamps told the story of the highest status of its inhabitants. A pair of silent guards stood at the beginning by the steps. Hidden by the corner before the corridor actually started, was placed an intricate tool used for bringing the buckets of fresh water all the way up here, resembling a very deep well. We just had to pull an iron rope for a while. We poured the cold water into a large jar which my companion took along with an empty bucket, and I was given a fresh towel to carry.

Like this, we strode to the very end of the corridor, to the single door in the centre which overlooked its whole length. The servant knocked on the door gently and waited. There was no response for a good while and then there came the sound of a key in the keyhole, the door opened and bright morning sun blinded me. Thorin's silhouette moved in the opening and disappeared before we could finish our morning greetings.

His private chambers consisted of two adjoined rooms, a bedchamber connected to a library and study, and a closet. The carpet was the same dark red colour, matching an ancestral tapestry hanging on the grey stone wall. To the right a large solid four-poster bed, opposite a fireplace and a coffee table with two padded armchairs. In front of me a high window with a bench in the wall, and an old harp which looked abandoned. Thorin was standing by it, peeking out at the early winter landscape, shirtless in the morning cold. The servant hurried to a toilette table in the corner, where a washing basin stood, poured yesterday`s water into the bucket and told me to fill it with the fresh water from the jar. Then he went on to open the window and tidy up the room. I was left standing by the table, holding a towel. I had no idea what to do. Thorin eyed me and strode towards the table. He washed his teeth with a white powder, a mixture of salt and herbs, and then lifted the jar and poured remaining water over his head and shoulders.

“What are you waiting for,” he said, eyeing me impatiently, water dripping from his hair to the ground. The servant was frantically gesturing for me to rub the water away, obviously on the brink of heart attack.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” I remembered to address him properly, and hurried to use the towel. I gently wiped away his face and hair, then hesitated briefly before touching his chest. He was finely shaped, with broad shoulders and strong arms, probably because of training with heavy weapons. He noticed that and smirked. I could feel his intense stare, as he was obviously enjoying the moment. I fought desperately not to look him in the eyes. I was not sure what he would see there. He interrupted my thoughts by stepping away and walking into the closet. The servant ran after him to assist with clothes. When Thorin walked out, he was wearing dark brown trousers and a dark red tunic which looked very noble on him. Then he sat on an armchair by the window and dismissed the servant with a single gesture. He looked at me, his eyes flickering with amusement.

“The comb.”

I took the comb from the toilette table and stood behind him. This time I had a comb to do what needed to be done. But this time, Thorin did not speak to me. I worked silently, and slowly started to relax. When I finished, his mane looked like a lion's, truly impressive.

Then he ordered me to bring in his breakfast. I hurried out of the chambers to ask the silent royal guards where I can get some food, and they showed me to a dining room just at the beginning of the hall. I peeked in and found lush breakfast being served on the table. I borrowed a tray from one of the servants and put on some bread, eggs, ham and strong morning tea. I carried all this to Thorin to lay it in front if him, and when I turned away to carry in some more - for there was much more prepared - he stopped me.

“That's enough. Sit,” and he gestured towards the other armchair.

I sat down hesitantly. He took a good bite of the bread.

“You did well with the stitching.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I just hoped he would not start evaluating my other skills. But he did not, surprisingly.

He ate in silence, and I had nothing to say either, so I watched the morning sun rise out in the distance.

“You may leave now,” he dismissed me when he finished his breakfast. I took the tray and before walking out of the chamber, I remembered to give the curtsy. My leg got caught in the long dress, I stumbled and nearly fell down with the tray in my hands, but managed to maintain balance.

I shot a quick glance at Thorin, prepared for a fight.

But he was smiling.

XXX

It took a few weeks until my companion servant taught me the proper service. Then he left me perform my duties alone. The first time I knocked on Thorin's door felt awkward but I got used to it. The longer time I spent in Erebor, with more confidence I moved in his chambers. Thorin did not speak to me and I kept my silence as well. He made a small compromise though by helping himself in his clothes, which I appreciated a lot.

One morning, we sat at the table as usual, Thorin taking his time while eating his breakfast. It was quite chilly that day, I did not sleep well at night and felt weak. I remembered my empty stomach which was normally not a problem. I was looking at Thorin's plate impatiently, when I heard the hungry noise come from my belly. Thorin stopped chewing.

“Are you coming to my chambers hungry all this time?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I lowered my eyes.

“Then I have been torturing you since the beginning,” he said accusingly. When I did not reply, he pushed his plate in front of me.

“Eat. Next time I want you to come with full stomach.”

“Thank you… you did not need to-”

“Nonsense! You cannot serve me well if you are this weak.”

I shot an angered look at him, but the food in front of me looked too delicious not to taste it. I swallowed my words and took a good bite instead.

“Clean up when you are finished,” he said before taking his leave.

Chapter 11

The king's mornings mostly consisted of attending to state affairs in the audience hall or discussions with his generals and advisors. This happened several times a week. In more quiet days, he sat at his desk in the study, reading through parchments and signing some of them. It was my task to tend to this room as well, but he did not seem to notice me working. In those days, he always ordered me to bring him some wine with water in a tall carafa. I watched him absorbed in the work in front of him, often unconsciously frowning, and when he needed some more time to think about a problem, he took his pipe and smoked long enough to reach a conclusion. Sometimes he strode across the library and I had to get out of his way while dusting the books.

“Can you read?” he asked me once when he caught me trying to decipher a title of an old manuscript.

“I can read our alphabet, Your Majesty. I know the runes but cannot read them. There are lots of stones inscribed by them in Norway. This script I do not know,” I showed at a line of books bearing very gentle and intricate tall letters. “And this looks familiar to Latin alphabet. It's so strange to find it in this place.” My eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He took a large book out of a shelf and passed it to me.

“Can you read this?”

“The tales of the dwarvish kingdom. Collected myths, stories and legends of the ancient folks. Common tongue edition.” I opened the book, happy to understand it, and flipped over a few pages before looking up at Thorin. He looked somewhat surprised.

“You are educated then.”

“Of course I am. I told you the truth.”

“You can read, but you still cannot take care of yourself.”

“What? Of course I could take care of myself in my world! I lived on my own!”

“Enough of that, woman! Take the book and read it in your free time.”

“I will do so. But you cannot accuse me of such incapabilities all the time! Why does it matter so much to you?!”

Thorin's eyes darkened. I watched his expression change to that of deep anger… and something else.

“There is something in you,” he moved one step closer, and was looking down at me now. “Something that calls out my own demons.” With that, he placed both of his hands on my shoulders and in one swift movement pulled my dress all the way down to my elbows. My arms got stuck in the cloth and I couldn't move them, shocked. He slided his eyes across my bare skin and cupped my breasts with both of his hands. They were warm and strong in the cold air and I blushed deeply at the sudden pained desire in my core.

“See? I could take you right here on the table and you'd do nothing against it.” He pressed his body against mine and held my hands behind my back. He pulled at my hair so I was looking up at him now, my neck bent back, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Don`t! Please,” I managed to say, terror and unwanted passion mixing in me, running down my thighs. Soft moan escaped his lips, and I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh.

“So vulnerable,” he breathed into my hair. He held both my hands down with his one hand, and with his free hand traced my cheek, neck, breasts and my bottom. He squeezed it tight, and I gulped. “So vulnerable, yet you don't fight to save yourself. Are you that submissive or is it the shock of what you have gone through?” Now he was breathing heavily, and I felt his hand slide up my thigh, emanating warmth even through the cloth of my dress. He reached in between my thighs, and I cried out at the hot wave the touch sent through my body. Still, I could not accept him.

“Please don't!” I whispered with tears of desperation in my eyes, and made an attempt to move away from him.

“And yet you respond to me!” he breathed, his eyes filling with dark passion. He was holding me even more tightly now, running his hands all over my breasts and thighs, squeezing at my buttocks, pressing me closer to his body as if he wanted to absorb me, sink me in. When he reached for the bottom of my dress and started to pull it over my knees, I realized what he was doing and cried out loudly, tears streaming down my face freely. Surprised, he looked me in the eyes, and I saw sudden change in him. He looked around the room, as if remembering where we are and what is happening, and he let go off me. He pulled my dress back up my shoulders and took a few steps back. Then he turned his back to me to lean against the window.

“You may leave now,” he dismissed me sternly. I ran out of the chamber, the ancient manuscript all but forgotten on the ground where it fell. At the edge of my sight, I saw Thorin reach out for his pipe.

Notes:

So there goes Thorin :) Hope you enjoyed!

I was thinking a lot about the languages and what would a stranger be able to comprehend in Middle-earth, and as the dwarves were used to speak Westron (resembling Anglo-saxon and old Norse), having English and Nordic origins, it would help Kate to communicate with them.

Chapter 12

I was so afraid of the morning that I could not sleep. I tossed and turned on my bed until I gave up and just stared wide-eyed in the darkness. I did not understand what was going on in me, all the opposing feelings of fear, despair and passion, but I knew I had to do something otherwise I would go insane.

I silently opened the door and walked out of my chamber, down a few staircases where I knew the kitchen was, along with royal storerooms and staff quarters. I stopped at one of them and, holding my breath, pressed the door handle. To my surprise, the door opened and I effortlessly sneaked in. Leaving the door slightly opened so that the torchlight came in, I entered the storeroom. All around were standing countless wooden boxes, barrels, sacks and glass vessels, full of supplies and unguarded. On the other side of the large room stood wooden chests with neatly folded royal bed linen and various fabrics. I did not find there what I wanted, so I tried another room. This time I was successful. Before me opened a real treasure of servant clothing and various household utensils - hundreds of candles, piles of soap bars, ropes, working tools. I opened several of the chests and dug through the stored clothes, which to my surprise, were winter fur clothes! I took a pair of thick pants, a thick woolen tunic and a snow-white hooded coat, and in the next chest I found a pair of boots. They did not fit me perfectly but that had to do. On my way back, I packed a bag with food supplies for a about a week, and returned to my room. I knew the front gate closed for the night, so I had to be patient.

The morning found me fully awake, staring onto the vast white plains where my fate would be decided. I had no idea where I would be heading, but the tinderbox which I had taken did provide at least a slight chance of surviving a week until I found a friendly village. Providing I would be able to use it. The gate opened with the first sun rays, and I knew I did not have much time until Thorin found out something was wrong.

It started to snow. I dressed in a hurry, threw the bag with supplies over my shoulder, and walked out of the chamber without ever turning back.

The gate was already open. I sneaked out among other travellers, holding my head down and slightly bending at knees while passing the guards. It was surprisingly easy. I decided to avoid the city which rose in front of Erebor - it would be my hunters` first choice. Instead, I walked over a wide bridge and headed in the direction other than the one from which we originally came the other day. It was snowing heavily now, and I smiled for myself. The snow will cover my tracks. With a little luck, they will not find me.

I walked for about an hour on the wide road, passing occasional travellers. Their numbers grew scarcer with time, as the land opened to its vastness. I started to feel uneasy, imagining what might be going on under the mountain right now, and decided to leave the road, just in case. I followed it from a distance though, hiding behind rocks and trees, which slowed me down, but I felt safer. After some time, I heard horses running by and shouts of men, but if they were searching for me, I did not know. I pressed against a rock and waited, thankful for my white coat. When I heard nothing anymore, I decided to continue on my way.

After a few hours, I sat down under a tree to rest for a while and eat a little bread and salted mutton. I heard no sounds of hooves by the evening, which encouraged me a little. I headed far into the wilderness, off the road, to find a group of trees, which could not really be called a forest, but still they offered some cover. I pressed my hurting body inside a large broken tree trunk which formed a narrow hole, and half sitting, closed my eyes to rest for the night. I did not dare to light a fire though, and was afraid that I might freeze to death, so when I started to feel too cold, I stood up to walk for a while, jumped and ran around, and then went back to my place. I would not fall asleep anyway, not with all the adrenaline flowing in my veins.

In the morning I decided to light a small fire to warm up my frozen breakfast and when I took off my gloves, found my fingers numb and hard to move. There was a prickling sensation to them. I cursed but after a while managed to regain some sensibility. After a few tries I lit the fire, and I praised myself for having paid attention while the servant girl tended to the fireplace in my old Erebor chamber. Then I ate hungrily and made myself hot black tea. Warmed up but tired from the sleep deprivation, I strode back to the road and followed it further on. I had no idea where I was heading, but was sure there would have to be some settlements scattered along it. It was a matter of luck if I managed to find one before I froze to death, but I was willing to take the risk. Not that I had a choice anyway.

As the evening began to fall, I once again left the safety of the road and headed towards some scattered rocks and trees in the distance. I was unbelievably exhausted and decided to have a good night's sleep by the fire. How surprised I was to find a cottage hidden just behind them! Smoke was coming out of its chimney, and I walked towards it to inspect who was inside. I saw an old woman through the window standing by a pot and cooking. Thick fog started to fall, heavy and smooth as milk in a jar, and suddenly I was desperate for a warm bed and human presence. Tears stung in my eyes as I longed for someone to say they were sorry for me. After a few minutes of uncertainty, I decided to knock on the door.

“Who`s there?” a suspicious voice came from the inside.

“I am a lonely traveller and I need a cover for the night. May I come in, please?” I tried to sound as friendly as I possibly could. I even smiled in the falling dusk.

The door opened just a few centimeters and an old judging eye glared at me. “Do you have money?”

I hesitated and then answered: ”I can share my provisions, good woman.”

After this, the door opened and the old woman sneaked out to check if I was really alone. “Come in then, darling.”

I stepped into the house, which consisted of the single large room. It looked rather clean, with herbs hung above the fireplace where cooked what looked like dinner. In the corner stood bed and a wooden chest, otherwise the place was empty.

“You can sleep on the ground by the fire. Your coat looks very noble - I hope you can bear such conditions, lady.”

“Oh, I am happy for that, thank you,” I said, while trying to suppress an uneasy feeling.

“Where are you travelling all alone in winter?”

“Family matters. I have to visit my distant relatives.”

She nodded knowingly, and did not ask further. She handed me a bowl of stew and I took out a loaf of bread which we shared. I massaged my fingers which once again felt numb and held them close to the fire. They had swollen since the morning and felt itchy. I mentally cursed.

We did not speak much. She looked like she did not need attention despite living this lonely life, and I was too exhausted to initiate a conversation. She placed a rag in front of the fireplace, I put off my boots and coat and laid down to rest. It must have taken seconds until I fell asleep because I do not remember anything after my head touched the floor.

XXX

What is this feeling? Someone is touching me… Someone is touching me! Wake up, quick! I struggled to open my eyes heavy from the unnatural sleep. When I finally came to my senses, I saw the old woman kneeling beside me, searching my pockets. I yelled and kicked her. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She did not reply and struggled to finish her search. But she was weaker and when she realized she could not possibly win, she reached for the poker and held it in front of her, pointing at my chest. “Get out of my house!”

I glanced around only to find out my clothes and bag were gone. “Where's my coat?!”

“Get… out!” she spat again and reached out for a blow. The poker swung dangerously close to my chin and I backed towards the door, my head swimming. She must have added something in my stew.

“Give me back my clothes! You can't have me walk out like this without boots and...uhhh... coat!” I demanded, reaching for the door handle, and when she made another attempt to hit me, I flung the door open and fell down a flight of steps, landing hard on the icy ground. I shook my head in disbelief. I felt warm blood streaming down my face in a thin string. The snow under my bare hands and feet stung, the blood drops forming tiny scarlet flowers, and the cruel truth struck me hard. I will die here. There is no way out.

I took in the chilly morning air to brace myself for my final stand, and struggling to my feet, I bumped into something. It was a heavy boot coated with fur and metal pieces. I looked up in despair to meet Dwalin`s gaze. He stood there with his hands across his chest, taking in the situation.

“Dwalin…” I whispered out of breath.

“What dwarvish scum have you brought here!” The woman yelled. “Get… out, I said!” The poker made a circle in the air, aiming for my head. Dwalin caught the weapon with his one hand, with the other grabbed the woman by her throat and yanked her to one side so that they were now both facing me, the enemy kicking and screaming. Stopping for a brief moment, his gaze met something behind my back.

I turned my head and gulped.

Thorin was watching us from the back of his black stallion just a few meters away. Around him a group of soldiers and a few other familiar faces. Motionless, his wild mane flowing in thick messy ropes down his shoulders, across the blue cloak I knew. His expression impenetrable, detached as a king should be, only the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him and the watchful night he must have spent in search for me. He slightly nodded in approval. With one smooth move, Dwalin slit the woman's throat, the blade breaking her skin as if it was of pure butter. She gasped for breath and collapsed to the ground, dead in seconds, her blood forming a red carpet all around. It was as simple as that. Taking life is the easiest thing in the world for a warrior.

Thorin dismounted and strode towards us slowly. He turned the corpse around with his foot and spotted a dwarvish golden bracelet on its hand. He snarled at the soldiers: ”Search the house!” and they sped in to fulfill his order.

Then he turned his attention to me. I dared not look him in the eyes, nor speak, so instead I just stared at the ground where the corpse was lying in the most unnatural position, its glossy eyes wide open. He reached out, pulling me towards the corpse, and forced both of my hands in the blood-stained snow. I struggled feebly, not daring to resist him in the open. My stomach felt weak, and I would have vomited, had it not been empty.

“How does it feel, slave?!” he spat, his voice full of hate. He was right. Her blood was on my hands. I killed her. Had I not escaped… Tears of shame and regret stung in my eyes. My voice shook: “I'm sorry, your Majesty…”

I risked a quick look at him now. Just one brief moment, and what I saw in his eyes made my heart sink to the very bottom. I understood that this time I had overstepped way too far, far beyond anything he could ever forgive. I had betrayed him, his trust in me, and all was lost. I saw endless anger, and what was even worse, endless disappointment. His jaw tightened as his icy blue gaze met mine.

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty… I'm so sorry…” I whispered only for him to hear, keeping my eyes low. He did not reply, and I started to sob. Suddenly I felt I was losing him, and the realization struck me unprepared. I needed his attention, in the strangest of ways. I needed his strength and guidance in this world I did not come to understand. He did what he considered right, from his point of view, even though I failed to recognize it. I was ashamed to the core. “I`m so sorry… if only I could take things back… I would never have left…” I pushed out in between the sobs. The blood stang in my eyes and I wiped it away with my cuff, it was not important now. “Will you ever forgive me? Please? I was so afraid...” I dared to look up at him.

He did not let me speak though. He made a silencing gesture and my apology froze on my lips all forgotten. He seemed to be judging the bleeding wound on my head for a brief moment. Then, probably having come to a decision it was not that heavy, he nodded towards Dwalin who helped me to my feet. “Let her dress,” he commanded darkly, “Then tie her to my horse.” My eyes widened and Dwalin grinned as he proceeded to fulfill the order. He retrieved my dress from the hut and threw it to me. I dressed hastily and he led me away to the horse. There he tied my hands with a rough rope and fastened the other end to the horn.

After a while the soldiers who searched the house came out. “Your Majesty,” saluted one of them, holding in front of Thorin a sack filled with golden trinkets, jugs and candlesticks. “The witch must have stolen from more, who knows what other crimes she had committed.” I shrugged. I was supposed to be dead by the evening.

“So much for a fair trial,” Thorin growled. “Leave the corpse as it is. The wolves will do the work.” Then he strode to his horse and mounted it. He checked if my rope was tied securely to his saddle and we set off.

XXX

We strode at a steady pace and it started to snow again. After a few hours I grew really tired and the walking exhausted me more than I would have thought. I dragged my freezing feet after me in the once-again deep snow but fought my body's needs, pushing it to its limits. I did not object how they treated me, I very much deserved it, and was willing to yield as far as I could. Obedience was the route to Thorin's heart.

We walked the whole day with just a single half-an-hour-stop for the men to eat and relieve their bladders, and then we went on. I was not given anything to eat and I did not dare to ask for a break for myself. I doubted they would let me go pee unguarded. So when Thorin left for a brief moment, I did what I needed where I was squatting in the snow, still bound to his horse. Nobody seemed to care.

It was surprising to find out that my route along the main road took twice the time it should have, as we saw the Lonely mountain rising in front of us the very same evening. It stood out from the snow-filled plain as a large finger pointing angrily to the skies. Behold the kingdom of the dwarves!, it said, and I had a sudden deja-vu. Just a few months ago I was entering this mountain in a very similar situation, weak and wounded. What had changed since then? I felt I was running in circles like a bug in an empty bowl, never finding its way out.

Chapter 13

One by one

Love's raised horns sound their sweet surrender

And one by one

Her defences fall debris

My will be done

I shall storm the gates where fates defend her

And once I've won

Her heart will belong to me

(lyrics by Cradle of Filth)

The dwarves dismounted the horses which were immediately taken over by staff and led to the stables to be tended to. We climbed the ten floors over the ground, on which I spent the last of my strengths. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep in my warm bed. Any bed. Just sleep and never wake up.

When I recognized Thorin's private quarters though, I rallied in anticipation of what was about to come. Unsure and vulnerable I was led through the red corridor, and I took in the familiar scent. Thorin entered his chamber and Dwalin pushed me inside in front of him. Then he closed the door from the inside and stood behind me with his arms crossed on his chest. Thorin immediately gestured towards my clothes and Dwalin stepped in to undress me, quickly and violently. I stood there all naked now but in a thin tunic, but Dwalin did not do me the last favour. He tore the tunic from my shoulders and it fell to the ground in two poor pieces. I covered what I could with my hands and stood there shaking.

Thorin took off his heavy coat and threw it on the bed. Then he walked towards me, slowly but ever so menacingly, and I saw his expression change from the regal mask he wore in the outside to the real Thorin, his anger now unleashed. He reached out and hit me hard, so hard I lay on the floor in a second. I touched my reddened cheek, shocked, but did not speak to defend myself. I deserved it. I struggled to my feet again, very slowly and unsure if I was allowed to, and he hit me once again, with even more strength. Now I was sobbing openly, my bladder betraying me as I lay there shaking and exhausted, and I hid my face behind my hands to cover my shame. A puddle was forming on the carpet under me.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” he stormed. “Escape from me like that would save you from anything, from yourself?! Do you have an idea what it means for me as a king? That I cannot handle my own slave! How can I rule a kingdom when my slaves do not submit? What message does it send to my subjects, my subjects who watch my every move, did you think of this when you were running away like a sick bitch?! I was too benevolent to you!”

“I had no idea… I had no idea.... Y0ur Majesty… I'm sorry,” I whispered between sobs, not daring to look up and meet his gaze.

“No, indeed you had no idea. Any dwarf in your position would now beg me to let him take his life in front of my eyes, to repay his debt and unloyalty. But you… you,” he was searching for words. I heard his steps as he was marching around the room.

“I`m so sorry, Your Majesty. I will do anything you wish,” I said, being pretty sure I did not have the guts to offer my life. He smirked knowingly. “If only you forgave me...”

“No. It will not be that easy, slave. I will make sure you repay to the very last bit,” he hissed, and I heard him kneel down beside me. He took me by my hair and lifted my face so that I had no other choice but meet his gaze. He held the contact for a brief moment, then looked down at the wet carpet under me.

“Very good,” he said, smirking. “We will continue with the hair now.”

With that, he took out his long knife and cut off a handful of my hair. And then another. I winced, placing both of my hands on his chest, squeezing the soft fabric of his tunic, partly to steady myself, partly to hold him at the arm's length.

“Do not move!” he commanded. “I am taking half of your hair now. It will betray your crime, from now until it grows back. Until then you will live in shame among us. Should you ever fail me again, all the rest will be cut away, and you will be sold to the slave-traders of the enemy. You are given one more chance, slave. Remember that well. Is that understood?” he growled darkly.

“Yes,” I pushed out between sobs.

“Good. Now don't move unless you want to get hurt.” And he placed the cold blade on my scalp and cut away the first hair, just at the roots, dangerously close to the skin. He worked quickly but efficiently, and I held my breath to minimize my movements. When he finished, I touched my head to explore the damage. The look on my face must have shown my deepest horror, because he returned his: “That will teach you manners,” while sheathing the knife.

I waited for his permission to stand up and leave, but it did not come. He slowly strode to a wooden chest from which he produced a large leather belt. For a brief moment he weighed it in his hand, as if judging if it was the right tool for my punishment. Having come to a conclusion, his features hardened, and I knew what was to come. My heart was beating its way out of my chest and my head went dizzy from the cold fear spreading in my veins. And then there he was again, breaking my weak struggle with extra force anger gave him, yanking me fiercely to lie face down on the floor. He placed just the tip of his foot on my shoulder, pinning me securely down in the position, and that was when I literally started to shake from the anticipation of pain.

He said one word - “Ten!” - and I heard the air breaking on the belt as it fell down and I screamed in pain. Then came other nine blows, each as slow and heavy as the former, well aimed from my back down to my bottom, and I wrung and cried and pleaded, but to no avail. When he finished, my back was all fire and blood and I was left with no power to move or speak.

The world was fading in black and white and I heard Thorin utter: “Dress her and take her downstairs. Through the main staircase for all to see.”

Then I stopped to feel and drifted to a world where no sounds dwell.

Chapter 14

I awoke to absolute darkness. I felt the cold rock under me bite in my skin and wet air chilling my bare feet. I was lying face down on a piece of thin cloth which was half covering me, but did me no good in fact. I was hurting in every way, not just my damaged back and bottom. The worst was the hot bruise I felt stinging on my cheek. I did not care where I was. There came no sound, just the echoing silence of my own troubled breath and water dripping in a thin stream somewhere close. After some time, my eyes got used to the darkness and I recognized a few shadowy shapes. The door. The tiny square room. The sharp surface of the walls ripped out of the mountain flesh. The empty bucket in the corner. Of course. I closed my eyes and dozed off.

When I opened them again, I realized there was subtle light coming through a tiny hole in the door. Then I heard footsteps approaching and silent chatter. The door opened with a screech and a tall thin figure walked in.

“My lady.”

Amarth knelt next to me, placing a lantern close by. He brought in fresh air and the scent of winter forest.

“Amarth... “

“Save your strength, my lady, ” he spoke in a hurry. “My visit here is against the King's orders for you to be left on your own. If you understand.” I was too tired to even nod, so I lay there, waiting while he examined my wounds. “If you allow me.” And he lifted my tunic hastily, up to my shoulders, baring my body as it was, full of fresh wounds in the torn skin. I did not care. Nothing mattered anymore. He cleansed the skin quickly and put an ointment on the wounds along with fresh bandages. Then he examined my hands and shook his head. “Squeeze my fingers, my lady.” I did as he said, weakly. “I cannot do any more now, I am afraid. Drink this, it will do you good,” and he produced a tiny flacon out of nowhere and made me swallow its contents. It tasted bitter but sent hot waves through my stomach and veins nearly immediately. I felt a little better.

Then he stood up and knocked on the door. “You must be strong, my lady. I will do what I can but given the situation…” And he left, the door closing behind him with a loud thud.

I dozed off to the troubled sleep again. I woke and dreamt and soon the boundaries between sleep and wake blurred until I no longer knew what was really happening. I saw faces leaning in from the dark, dwarvish faces, then snow fell and I lay on the forest floor under starry skies. I felt terribly hot and the snow brought away my pain. The mountain talked to me. It spoke its anger of being cut in pieces by the merciless hammers and mattocks. It sang to me of the glory of its immense underground treasures which still lay hidden from greedy eyes. Of deep crystalline lakes of cool fresh water in its depths. I saw myself lying on the ground in a deep underground dungeon, barely breathing, and my head felt strangely light, my senses sharpened. I rose above the mountain, playing along, chasing the winds, and in the labyrinth of the corridors beneath saw thousands of tiny lives moving, dwarves and animals, working, fighting, laughing in bitterness and joy. I saw the king in his lonely chamber, sleeping his restless sleep. Then the mountain spoke " Return to the lake when the storm rages"... and I started falling back to my body through an abyss, backwards, facing the skies.

I opened my eyes gasping for breath. I saw Dwalin`s face leaning in and mutter something, but I could not make up the words. All fell into the deafening silence again.

XXX

“My lady, let me help you now that I can,” Amarth offered, placing a large bowl of water next to me. I blinked hazily, my head still dizzy. I peeked out of the window. Bright winter sun came shining in the chamber, my chamber, my bed. Cosy fire was lit in the fireplace, its flames licking at apple tree wood, as I recognized by the scent. Amarth was seated by me on the bed among various healing necessities he had brought with him, and by the doors a dwarvish guard stood, expressionless.

“Thank you Amarth,” I tried to mouth but no sound came from my cracked lips. I coughed. “How long…?”

“Do not speak. I am allowed to talk to you only regarding the matters of your health. If you understand.” He explained silently and I glanced at the guard. I nodded and took the first look at my hurting hands. The skin had turned red and dark brown at some places and tiny blisters started forming. I moved my fingers to try them and hissed in pain.

“Here,” Amarth said, placing the bowl closer. “They have been frostbitten. Put them in. We must slowly bring them to normal temperature.” I obeyed, frowning at the movement. I did not know where the pain came from as the fingers felt numb. In the meantime, Amarth examined me thoroughly, his attentive gaze stopping at my once long hair and the skin of my face. It must have shown some change in colour because he shook his head disapprovingly. I stared at my hands, feeling blush rising to my cheeks. He did not comment on my state though, instead he placed a piece of clean cloth on my skin. It felt soothingly cold, and tears stung in my eyes. Look at where you are now, you silly , I thought to myself. For them all to see .

“Can I look in the mirror please?”

Amarth hesitated for a moment before holding the mirror in front of me. At first I could not believe my eyes. I did not recognize the broken person staring at me from beyond the messy, blood-cloaked hair, at least what remained of it. It was neatly shaven on the whole left side of my skull, just as close to the bone as possible, making me look like a man. Like a defeated man. Exposing my bruised left cheek where Thorin's hand fell twice. I gasped and averted my gaze.

Amarth stayed for about half an hour, helping me to sip a few spoons of hot broth, while my hands bathed. Then he left along with the guard, promising to come back soon.

Chapter 15

Amarth indeed did return, in fact he returned several times that day, and the days that followed. Each time bringing a bowl with water warmer than before, and slowly I started to feel my fingers tingling as they sucked in the warmth.

“Let us see if your sense of touch comes back again. I cannot promise it will, though,” he stated between changing of my bandages, and I sighed.

I spent several days in bed just like this, hurting, exhausted and alone. Nobody came to see me, not even Gloin or Dis, and I felt trapped as if in prison, a much lighter and warmer prison, but it did not make much difference. The door remained locked from the outside now. As the long lonely hours passed, a single thought of opening the window and just jumping out crossed my mind. I pondered on it for a brief moment, but decided against it. I did not have the guts to kill myself, and what was the worst, I did not know if it was good or not.

About a week after that Thorin showed up. It was early morning, I was staying in bed as usual, all tucked in the covers. He strode into the room, wearing dark leather pants and a burgundy tunic, and the air changed as he glared at me from under his thick eyebrows. He walked around the room as a lion examining his territory, checking on if his orders had been carried out to the last bit. Then he stood above me, arms crossed on his chest, and uncomfortable silence filled the room. My heart started to pound faster, and I looked down to avoid his gaze.

“So,” he started, and his voice sounded deep but strangely cold. “Do we still want to fly? Or have you changed your mind as women like to do so often?”

“No! I will not try to escape any more, your Majesty. I would like to apologize to you, I really would like to…” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast. “I know I had overstepped too far. I have failed you. I am sorry for that. I will not leave unless you wish me to, I promise. I swear.”

He snorted. “No, you will not.”

He sat down on my bed, his features stern. “Show me,” he said, pointing to my hands. I stretched them out meekly and he studied them with a frown.

“You wore gloves, did you not?” He interrogated, his brows slightly lifting in surprise.

“I did, your Majesty.”

“You seem weaker than other women.”

“Perhaps… I cannot judge on dwarvish women, I barely know any,” I mouthed slowly, carefully weighing every word on my tongue. “I am used to cold, but…” I stopped as my voice broke.

He did not interrupt me, which felt even worse. Instead, he moved closer and leaned in to watch me intently. When he spotted the last traces of a bruise on my cheek, he frowned. I blushed deep red, avoiding eye contact. I felt his one finger under my chin, gently forcing my face up. My chest was filled with heavy emotions ready to burst out at any second by then. He traced the line of my jaw with his thumb, ever so gently, stroking my cheek with a feathery movement.

“I do not wish to see any more bruises on this face or body. It is a shame to waste such beauty for nothing. You must be wise, little one.” He stroked me again, gently. “I do not wish to hurt you, you see. I do not wish to break you. Is it so difficult to just submit to me?” He asked patiently, as if scolding a child. I guess this was the closest he could ever get to just saying I'm sorry, in his own strange way. He smelled of new leather and spices, and it reminded me of the day we had met.

“You… you scared me, my lord. I am sorry for what I did, but I was just too terrified of you.”

“How come? It has been several months since I found you. You should have already forgotten the incident. You have been taken care of. You have home and food, you are safe now.”

Seeing my expression, he asked directly: “Do you fear men?” Such a plain question and such a strong reaction.

‘’Yes,’’ I nodded desperately in between sobs.

He exhaled loudly, never stopping his interrogation. “Did the orc rape you? Answer me honestly,” he asked darkly, clenching his fists now. His gaze hung on my lips but I could not answer. I just could not. He swore and hit the side of the bed angrily. Then he stood up and started pacing around the chamber while I sobbed. His anger made him look savage and unpredictable. After a while he sat down again, more composed.

“Kate, you are so very different. Any dwarvish woman would have already recovered in your place, whatever it is that happened to you. This is not possible.”

“But I'm human ! I don`t have your stamina, obviously! I have my bruises and they may last until I die in the first place. I need time, a lot of time, your Majesty. And although I'm trying, I keep on doing things which in your world are understood as mistakes. I'm sorry for that. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do to make things right, but I am the way I am,” I said shakily.

He watched me closely, the storm in his eyes betraying his feelings. He was breathing heavily now. He leaned in menacingly, although I think it was not his intention to frighten me any more. It was the anger rising. He touched my shoulder, the line of my neck and stroked my cheek slowly, consciously. Our faces were now so close I could feel his breath on my ear and heat emanating from him. He remained like that for a few seconds, solid as a statue, and when I did not flinch, he gently nibbled at my earlobe. It sent warm wave through my body, to my surprise.

“No harm will come to you in these halls, Kate,” he whispered in a deep set growl. “I will give you your time. Although, given your quick responses to my advances, I think it might be less time you would consciously choose.”

I gulped at that and he laughed throatily. It was the first time I saw him actually laugh, and it made him look so charming that my heart ached. He pressed a chaste kiss on my lips and straightened his back.

“Now,” he said much more cheerfully, “It took Amarth whole day to convince me to let him examine you. You should thank him for that. He says your hands should heal soon, and I hope they do,” he said, the warm sparkle never leaving his eyes. I realised Amarth did not tell him about his secret visit in the dungeon, but I kept my mouth shut. Thorin looked so boyishly carefree that I did not have the heart to ruin it for him. Or me.

“My fingers still feel numb. I hope he is right. I'm starting to lose faith in elvish medicine.”

“Don`t, Kate. They will get better.” He took my hands in his, careful not to touch the blisters, his palms flat against mine.

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes.”

“May I borrow a book from your library? Any book, really. I`ve spent here so much time alone.”

“And you will carry on in that way, Kate. Your crime is not yet forgotten. But I will do you the favour, yes.”

“Thank you.”

We remained like that for quite some time. We spoke of unimportant things, such as weather in these lands, food available in winter and trade with friendly nations. I tried to explain to him what chocolate tasted like back in Norway, and he said he would have his cook prepare sweets better than my chocolate. I could not believe we could ever have such a nice conversation. This new Thorin felt very refreshing.

He left after about an hour, with half-smile on his lips.

“Rest now,” he said, and I obeyed.

Chapter 16

My days grew long and nights even longer. I nearly forgot how humans (and dwarves) looked as all kept Thorin's orders not to interfere. Thorin did not come back for other two weeks but Dis started appearing instead, and Amarth, who spoke to me again.

I was astonished when Dis stormed in one day to hand me over a book I was already familiar with: The tales of the dwarvish kingdom. Collected myths, stories and legends of the ancient folks. I was so grateful that I laughed happily at her, thanking her that I would have something to occupy myself with.

I started to eagerly read the manuscript which looked quite old, its pages yellowed with age and letters written in strange shapes, but still readable. It contained various stories which to me sounded like fairy tales, but nice to ponder on. Until I came across a short record of two men who emerged from a lake in Rhovanion during an evil storm to show themselves to astonished native people. It stated it had happened three centuries ago and their further fate remained unknown. I was shocked. Was this just a coincidence? Why did Thorin lend me the book? I decided to learn more when given the chance, but then I remembered the promise I had given to Thorin and my heart sank. No, I cannot do this, I cannot leave even if I knew how to do it. I swore to him. Damn!

xxx

It took another week until I was let out of my chamber to resume my morning duties. When Thorin's door opened for the first time after the ages of my solitude, I had a strange deja vu of him peering at me from the entrance, his dark figure against light of the day. I made a small curtsy, keeping my eyes low, greeting the king silently, and he let me in with a slight nod.

I poured fresh water into the washing basin, trying not to spill a drop. I felt his gaze on my back, he did not move nor speak, but I knew he was there, still in the shadows of the early morning. The mountain was sleepily silent, but I could hear my heart pounding its way out of my chest. I finally finished what I was doing and stood by the toilette table, clean towel hanging from my arm. I waited for him to speak first.

“So, my little slave has returned. How does it feel?”

“Thank you for asking, your Majesty. I am glad I am back. It is better than I would have expected.”

“Of course you are,” he smirked, lowering above the basin.

I did not answer. Instead, I studied the chamber for any changes. It remained the same, dark and luxurious, suffocating with pompousness and with what I could call a certain sense of weight of the crown. Could there ever be such a thing? An orphaned harp stood where it had been left, with no trace of dust, but still it felt out of place here.

“Umm… Does anyone play it?” I pointed at the instrument after a while of odd silence when he was washing his face.

Thorin looked up at me with a surprised expression.

“No, I do not play it anymore. Since the dragon. Strangely, it survived all those years. The strings would not be usable anymore, though.” He was studying it, as if trying to remember what it actually was and if it meant anything to him.

“It is beautiful.”

“It once was, aye.” He abruptly turned back to the basin and poured some water over his head. I handed him the towel but he shook his head in disapproval. “Your turn.”

I swallowed and took one step closer to rub the water away from his skin and hair. He stood tall and I could not properly reach where I needed, and he did not even try to make it easier for me. He was playing with me, and obviously enjoying it with a hint of smirk.

“Come closer,” he advised, and a sudden thought came to my mind. I circled him to step behind his back, indeed closer, and reached out with the towel. I smiled to myself for this little victory, but he growled and pulled me in front him. “Resistant, are we?” he muttered darkly and pulled me even closer, squeezing my shoulders in his iron grip. My breathing quickened, and I felt panic rise once again in my chest, ice cold as the mountain in winter.

“No, please… I’m not…” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast.

“You have turned pale,” he said, holding me at arms` length to look at me properly, then abruptly loosened his grip. “Go and sit there.” He pointed to the armchair by the window. I obeyed quickly, grateful and relieved, and rested as he had ordered. He walked towards the table, poured water from a large jar in a glass and handed it to me.

“Drink.”

I hesitantly took it and swallowed a few sips, trying to compose myself.

“Have you finished the book?” he asked out of the blue, seating himself in the opposite chair.

I blinked. “I have, your Majesty.”

“And?”

“Thank you for it, I enjoyed it a lot. It made me understand a few things about these lands.” I felt a little better, my courage returning to me with every passing second. I wondered where was this charming and warm man I had talked to the last time, and if he would ever show up again.

“Which are?” he lifted his eyebrows.

“Well, your culture, your beliefs. I found one of the stories particularly important…” I looked down at my hands with a pause. He did not ask which one, so I glanced at him and saw his features had hardened, menace written in his eyes.

Oh, he knew very well what I was referring to.

“So… if you are asking if I am planning to escape to the lake because of it, then the answer is no. No, I'm keeping my promise. My place is here until you decide otherwise. Although I'd like to explore that possibility, if you allow, of course.”

“You are starting to learn your manners.” The tips of his mouth curved in a half smile.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

I have passed the test. This time.

Chapter 17

“You need to get used to me, Kate,” were the words which shook me right next morning. I was standing at the open window to let the fresh morning air in, making up the king-size bed, arranging the pillows neatly.

Thorin walked out of his closet with bare chest, throwing his tunic on the bed.

“My lord…”

“It will happen whether you fight it or not, we both know it. The sooner you let go, the better for you. No more excuses.”

He closed the distance between us in two long steps, reaching out for me as naturally as for a glass of water. He pulled me to him before I could react and forced my arms around his waist.

“Shhh… I will not hurt you,” he proclaimed in a soothing whisper and stood still, his arms hanging by his hips. I let him go with a silent scream but he grabbed my hands immediately and wrapped them again around his naked waist.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” he growled, holding me securely in place where he wanted to have me once again. I fought shakily, but he was too strong for me to win this. I panicked and yelled my “Please don’t!” at him, but he squeezed both my wrists with one hand. With the other he patted my hair briefly.

“Do not fight, and I will not advance,” he announced and waited for the words to sink in. He was looking down at me, his head slightly tilted to one side, his eyes searching for the sign in mine that I understood. A waterfall of dark hair cascaded down his shoulder, making him look feral and playful at the same time. I breathed out and gave up my fight, just to try the effect.

Thorin stood still, eyeing me from his height, and when I did not move for a few seconds, he gently pressed his fingers to the small of my back and pushed me to him so that I was now leaning on him.

“Better,” he hummed into my hair. It felt very odd, I was not prepared for this delicate show of intimacy. I was still shaking, but when he did not try to touch me in any other way, I just gave in and stood still, taking in his masculine scent and the softness of his skin. I felt his chest move as he breathed, his lips slightly parted as he was watching me - his prey, waiting, and I dared not look up, so I just rested my forehead in the crook of his neck. Silence fell between us, and I was afraid to move or speak, but the solid statue that he had turned into strangely offered comfort and strength I could depend on. My muscles relaxed and I let out out a small sigh of relief before I could consciously stop it.

We remained like this for good two minutes and then he just stepped away to put on his tunic.

“You may bring in my breakfast.”

I blinked a few times and left for the kitchen, on wobbly legs.

XXX

We went on like this for the next three days, Thorin making me hold him, but never advancing, and I felt like a frightened animal being tamed, slowly and skilfully, like a mare being hushed and soothed into sweet oblivion until she was eventually saddled and made into a possession with the air of finality. I had to admit that it did feel good, in a sick way, and I started to enjoy the fake intimacy the process offered. I did not flinch nor fight, and Thorin kept his word of not touching me improperly. I realized that I trusted him and willingly came to his arms once he gestured for me to do so, with a knowing and satisfied smile gracing his lips. “Good girl,” he used to say, and my heart trembled with joy of being praised and my body hungrily devoured the touch of his warm skin. Oh, how screwed I was with all my loneliness that these simple gestures and expressions helped to keep at bay!

The days flowed slowly and placidly and I calmed down. It did not last long though, as the still surface of our ordinary days was stirred by a foreign delegation.

They came from Rohan one early morning, as I was told, to negotiate possible alliance against the common enemy. After the last battle, the orcs have moved south and were much scarcer in numbers in the lands surrounding Erebor. But that posed possible threat to Rohan.

I saw them briefly, men on tall horses and in shiny helmets, riding proudly and erect through the main gate, and my heart started to pound violently at the sight of my own race. They dismounted, the horses were led into the stables to be taken care of, and Thorin and his high-ranking generals came out to meet them and exchange greetings. For the first time I saw Thorin wear his crown and was surprised by how regal and official he looked, exact opposite of his normal attire. This must be something big.

They were staying for several days already, Thorin being out whole day during the negotiations.

On that particular day, I was performing my duties as normal. I tidied up the king's chambers diligently, and was now sweeping the floor in the corridor where the red carpet did not reach. I heard silent footsteps, and when I turned around, I saw a tall blond-haired man walk by. He glanced at me briefly, and having caught my stare, he stopped and returned in his tracks. He studied me for a few moments suspiciously before speaking:

“I am afraid I do not know you, my lady.” He bowed his head ever so slightly.

“Oh, I'm not a lady, as you can see,” I pointed at the broom with a smile. “My lord,” I added quickly and lowered my gaze. My heart was beating wildly with joy that I was speaking to a human, and was flattered at the same time by his display of respect.

“I see. May I know your name? What are you doing in these dwarven lands? I have not seen here any kin of ours but you.”

I hesitated for a moment. “I`m Kate Evans,” I explained briefly and suppressed the urge to shake his hand. Instead, I bowed slightly, at which he gave an acknowledging nod. “And… I do the cleaning here… basically.” I bit my lip, which did not escape his attention, for he lifted his chin stubbornly and frowned.

“Is something wrong with that, Kate Evans?”

“N-no. I did not catch your name...” I tried to change the subject as I felt this was not the proper topic to talk about.

“I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark,” he saluted, for a moment turning into the shiny soldier that he was. “Where are you from and was has led your steps to Erebor? It is most uncommon for humans to serve under dwarf masters in such deep places. And why is your hair shaved off?”

Those were too many hard questions. I inhaled deeply before trying to explain in the most neutral tone. “From far away, my lord. My fate has led me here. And no, I am not a servant, I am a slave, if that is what you wanted to know. And I disobeyed my master once, so...” I rubbed my hands uncomfortably and looked down to check on my nails. I needed to do that right now.

“That is most unfortunate,” genuine compassion softened his features. He locked his dark eyes with mine before asking in a husky voice: “Who is your master?”

“His Majesty.”

“The King himself?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

Surprised silence fell in the dimly lit corridor and then he nodded. “It was not my knowledge that the dwarves indulged in slavery. But I am sure Thorin would be the most righteous master, by his ways during our negotiations.”

At those words something inside me broke. I did not know what I had been expecting from this stranger, after all. Stupid me.

“Indeed.”

His scrutinising eyes lingered on me a little longer than necessary but then he just turned and briskly walked away.

Notes:

I fully realise that Éomer was not yet born when this was happening, there are still a few more decades left, but well... He is just too gorgeous to be omitted!

Chapter 18

I did not see Éomer after that for a few days, until the last evening before the delegation`s actual departure. As far as I overheard, the talks had been a success, and both realms agreed on mutual help and intelligence sharing against the remainder of the orc hordes pillaging the vast plains on the southern borders.

On that day, Dis stormed in as always to inform me that my presence was needed at the feast to be held tonight. To my question why she explained that a gossip about a human slave in Erebor had spread and the Rohirrim expressed interest in me serving for them tonight.

“Thorin had agreed to that as a token of goodwill,” she said with an eyebrow lifted high. I swallowed my pride at that and tried to get out of my head the image of me being paraded in front of the foreign soldiers as a caged animal. Nevertheless, Dis sent me to the kitchen where I was instructed how to serve the meals and fill the wine goblets properly. It was not difficult at all, yet I felt nervous for no obvious reason.

XXX

The feasting hall spread long and vast with its high ceiling and marbled pillars and walls. They shone with hues of the darkest green and grey with golden veins, invoking uttermost beauty and splendour worth the majestic dwarven kingdom, for all foreign eyes to see. The hall breathed with cold, and I shivered involuntarily. At the long table were seated the horse riders, along with dwarven officials and Thorin at the head of it. Éomer to his right at the beginning of the long line, leaning closer to Thorin in silent chatter as they waited for the dinner to be served. He raised his brown eyes when I and the army of servants marched in, and nodded towards me ever so slightly in a silent greeting. I gave a small curtsy in return and then noticed Thorin watching me with a frown. The evening was starting in a strange manner. I swallowed hard and proceeded to serve the meal to Thorin, and then to Éomer and all the others in the line. Soon after that, the general mood had risen, lifted by the delicious food and wine, and the guests hailed and cheered to Thorin with their chalices held high. I smiled at that and finally started to relax. The evening got on the right track. Although, I did my best to be as quick and invisible as possible when refilling their chalices.

Later in the evening, after countless litres of spirits had been drunk, Éomer beckoned to me to bring him wine. I obeyed quickly and when I leaned in to pour it in his goblet, I felt a daring hand rub my buttocks. Shocked, I silently cried out and spilled the remainder of the wine in the jar. I glared at him angrily but what I saw in his glistening eyes made me swallow whatever words came to my mind. There was lust, pure lust and dark hunger but they vanished in a split second once he regained his reason and former elegant behaviour.

“Look what you have done,” he uttered with a smile, and I managed nothing but saying my ”I`m so sorry” while sweeping the table with my snow-white apron. One quick glance at Thorin, who was watching us intently but did not make an effort to step in. I was wondering if he had noticed.

“This slave of yours is very… unusual,” he said to Thorin lazily, with a half-drunken smile. “How come she has found her place here in the depths of Erebor?”

“I have found her in the wilderness, she owes me,” Thorin replied, composed, not giving in any more details.

“Oh, I see,” Éomer murmured. “Would she be available for selling? I know of a suitable place for her tiny hands.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Back in Rohan. I feel she should return among her own. The sunlight would do her good.” I inhaled sharply and looked at Thorin with pleading eyes. Please don't do it. I will die if this monster gets me.

“She is not for sale,” Thorin answered matter-of-factly, in a neutral tone, but I could sense icy coldness between the lines. The threatening coldness which meant a storm approaching. I exhaled.

“I quite like her,” Éomer did not give up, circling the top of his goblet with his finger casually. He was thinking of something, as if trying to mouth the correct words. A silent battle in his drunken mind. “Would you consider lending her to me for the night?” I gasped at that, terrified, and my hands started to shake. This is the moral man who rode with his back so straight up on his horse? The paragon of noble ways?

Thorin leant in and frowned even more. More than I even thought possible.

“Marshal, this slave is not available for sale nor any other business. She is mine,” he emphasized gravely and beckoned to me, his glare locked with Éomer`s. I hurried to his side, abandoning the wine stain on the table as it was.

“Kneel,” he ordered sternly, and I dared not defy him here and now, in front of the staring audience, which already noticed something was happening and their joyful chatter died down. I knelt down on the floor with my hands folded in my lap and eyes downcast, thanking all the gods for the remainder of my hair which fell into my face and hid the stinging red blush which had spread on my cheeks. Thorin patted me on my head and then reached for a plate. He took a honey cookie and held it in front of my lips. I hesitated for a brief startled moment before I opened my mouth for him, and he fed me like a pet, shoving his thumb in my mouth gently so that I could lick it clean. I did as he wished, playing along in his little game of authority above me, imagining I was not there and this was not happening at all. I didn't know who of the two humiliated me more. But at the same time I was thankful for the known evil which Thorin represented. Better him than the blond pretentious jerk.

“Obedient she is,” Éomer praised and the tip of Thorin’s mouth curved in satisfaction. The chatter rose again as the atmosphere in the hall loosened. No one seemed to be listening any more.

“Not always, but we have sorted that out already. Have we not?” he leaned in to my ear, as if speaking of a nice little secret.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered, digging my fingernails deep into my palms.

“Good girl,” he patted me again and then rested his heavy hand at the back of my neck. It felt strangely reassuring. By now I was sitting on my soles between the males, but so close to Thorin that Éomer could not reach me. I think that was Thorin's intention, an elegant solution to a diplomatic disaster. He fed me a few more cookies.

Éomer was watching us from under his heavy lids. “When you get tired of her, think of me.” He reached for his goblet and grinned. “She would still be a good fuck.”

Thorin laughed out but his grip on my bare neck tightened. “You have drunk too much tonight, Marshal. Our wine is strong, you do not know what you are saying.”

Then he turned to me. “You may go and wait in my chambers,” beckoning to a guard who stood nearby to accompany me.

I stood up abruptly, and throwing a small curtsy towards Thorin and then Éomer, I hurried out of the hall, followed by the guard.

I was so freaked out that when I entered the chamber, I pressed my back to the door and had to take a few deep breaths to calm down. I did not hear the guard’s heavy footsteps though, and when I opened the door slightly, he peeked at me from the outside questioningly. I closed it again and decided to light the fire in the large fireplace to keep the darkness of the lonely chamber at bay. Then I lay down on the bed, planning to make it up before I left. For the moment, I was more than happy to be guarded and the king's quiet private chamber offered sweet solace to my nerves which I so desperately needed.

Chapter 19

I will have you on your knees

And the beast I hold within

Shall be fed with your hungering screams

(lyrics by Dark Funeral)

I awoke in the middle of the night still in Thorin's bed. The peaceful full moon was shining brightly at me from the large window, its silver light spreading quietly across the normally dark chamber. The fire had already died out. I yawned, and still sleepy, realized where I was lying. I stood up abruptly and walked towards the cushioned armchair by the window. I leaned my head comfortably against its back and watched the magnificent windless night in its silence, the shadows of the landscape frozen and not moving. I cuddled further in the armchair, lifting my knees up to my chin, and was thus lulled to sweet sleep.

A soft click of the door made me open my eyes, and then the sound of a key in the keyhole. The door was being locked. Thorin's tall figure stepped into the moonlight, but did not appear less dark. He looked around the room as if searching for something, until his eyes adjusted to the blackness, and I saw his expression change when he spotted me. I realized the moon was shining from behind me so my face must have remained hidden, probably still looking asleep. I quite liked the opportunity it gave me to watch him move unguarded when he thought nobody was watching. He walked towards the bed and took off his upper tunic and boots, leaving all of that casually spread on the ground, then sat on the bed, resting his head in his hands for a good while. He looked tired, his shoulders tense, but there was something strange about him, certain determination, anticipation. He stood up and walked towards my armchair slowly, questioningly. He reached out to touch my hair and cheek, and I realized this was the time I was supposed to wake up.

“Your Majesty,” I jumped, feigning surprise. I stood up quickly and made a small curtsy in a silent greeting. I wanted to thank him for what he did during the evening, but he did not seem to want to start a conversation. Instead, he just nodded, and rested his heavy hand on my shoulder. I could smell sweet wine and scent of leather from him, and it was not an unpleasant sensation. He massaged my shoulder slightly, then moving his attention to the back of my neck, until he finally pulled me towards him as I was already used to. But this time his hand continued to journey across my back until it reached my hip, and I shuddered.

“Your Majesty, I would like to thank you for what you did during...” I said shakily, which earned me his approving grunt while his other hand continued to wander around my behind. “Would you like me to fetch something for you…?”

“It is nothing you can fetch that I want, Kate,” he breathed into my hair, and I shook involuntarily, despite doing my best to fight my rising uneasiness.

All of a sudden, he released me and took a step back. “Now undress,” he said quietly, matter-of-factly. As if it was the most natural thing for me to do in front of him.

I could not believe my ears. “W-what?”

“Un-dress!” came the command in a deep-set growl, and my heart sank at that word. Oh no, please don't do this. I stood there shaking, uncertain what to do, terrified not to disobey and get punished once again, and my brain was working feverishly, trying to find a way out of this, find some excuse, anything.

“Your Majesty… I… I'm sorry to ask, but… what is wrong? You said you would give me time...” I blabbered desperately, squeezing my fingers in front of me in a pleading, uncertain gesture.

“Which I gave you. You have run out of it tonight.”

“But… why? What is different? You said- ”

“Do not make me repeat myself for the second time, Kate!”

“But you said you would wait! And I'm honestly doing my best to obey you, Your Majesty… to serve you as I was taught, I'm not even flinching anymore when you are close, is that not- ”

“You are making a good slave, indeed. But you do not look owned!” he growled, and the dark devouring fire which I had once seen sprang in his eyes.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“The foreigner wanted you because you simply look like you do not belong to anybody. I am not contained in you. I cannot let that happen again. You are mine, and everybody needs to know.” He was becoming more and more passionate as he spoke, and when a soft sob escaped my lips at his words, he asked gravely: “Am I really that hideous that you react in such a manner?”

“No, not at all,” I hurried with my assurance before I could think of any consequences. The tip of his mouth rose in a self-satisfied half-smile, and I mentally cursed.

“So?!”

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty… but… but I just can't...” My voice came in a whisper so silent that I nearly could not hear my own words. By now I was shaking all over my body and a huge lump formed in my throat.

He frowned. His large hand grabbed my throat in the violent promise of strangling, his whole body rising as if he grew twice that tall. The transformation was so menacing that my knees went limp under me and I remained standing just because he was holding my neck in his tight grip. That was too much. I clenched my teeth, and slowly, painstakingly slowly, I rolled the sleeves of my dress down my shoulders. He let go off my throat at that and watched me intently, still on guard. After a few other agonizing seconds I pulled the whole dress down to the ground. I held my hands in front of my private parts though, as futile as it may have looked, to cover whatever dignity I was left, and thankful for the darkness which was partially hiding me. My mouth went dry, and I kept my gaze locked on the floor as if it could help me break any contact with him.

He slid his gaze across my body and then stepping closer, he turned me around so that the moonlight shone directly into my face. He cupped my breast and touched the ugly scars on my belly and thigh. And then on my back, those which he had inflicted himself. “What a shame,” he uttered under his breath, his voice deep velvet, and I gulped when he suddenly grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back. His gaze lingered on the place where the soft hair grew between my thighs, and lay his palm flat against my lower belly. I shivered and felt warmth spread somewhere deep inside. His middle finger traced an imaginary circle on my sensitive skin. I was panting heavily now, and if it was from terror or pleasure I really did not know.

“Are you a virgin, Kate?”

The terror struck me with full force now. I cried out and fought with all my strength to shake his hands off and get away from him, desperately, as if fighting for dear life. But I could not stand his strong arms which pacified me immediately with their iron grip, forcing my hands once again behind my back in an uncomfortable position, just much more painfully now. I could not move unless I hurt myself.

“Answer me!” he stormed, and I started to sob. He gave me a few more seconds, and when I did not speak, he tightened the grip even more. I cried out in pain, then shook my head in defeat. He snarled at that.

“Were you a virgin before the orc?”

I shook my head once again, hot tears rolling down my cheeks in streams.

“At least I do not need to be gentle with you. I wanted to fuck you the very same moment I saw you out in the wilderness. Naked, all covered in blood, completely helpless and at my mercy. You were exquisite then, my dear. But I do not want to hold back anymore. I have waited for this for too long.” he finished bitterly.

My eyes widened at those cruel words, and I sobbed out my horror-striken ‘Oh no, please don't do this! Please, I beg you!’.

But he had gone too far to stop now. He loosened the grip just a little and spoke nearly tenderly now. “Do not fight, little one, it will only make things worse for you. And these tears,” he paused for a moment to trace their trails with his thumb, “You look even more beautiful with them. More like yourself, stripped to the bone.”

He leaned in and kissed me deep, pressing his whole body against mine tightly, the thin cloth of his tunic rubbing against my naked skin. And under it, the chiselled muscles of his chest and arms, iron-like, and he felt as solid as a mountain peak. At the edge of my horror-striken mind I realized that I would have appreciated this intense magnetism had this been under different circumstances. He pressed his lips on my neck and traced it with his tongue all the way down to my collar bone, then returned eagerly back to my ear to suckle at my earlobe. He bit me hungrily, and when I cried out, he moaned, utterly enjoying my torment. Then he forced his knee between my thighs, grabbing me by hips and pressing me hard against the dark leather of his thigh. I started my furious struggle with the impossible. He interlocked his fingers with the hair at the back of my head and pulled down, bending my neck low in such a strange angle that I gasped for breath for a few miserable moments. Watching me closely, his lip drawn up to bare his upper teeth, he loosened the grip for just one breath and then pulled back again. My fingers dug in the cloth of his arms in a desperate attempt to stabilize myself, but to no avail. When I ceased to move, he let me breathe freely. And then all over again. Exhausted, after a few tries I gave up and went limp.

“Calmer now?” he smirked. I didn't even try to answer. “Good.”

Having me where he wanted to have me now, he once again grabbed my hips and positioned me so that I had to either stand on my tiptoes or press my clit against his leg. I did my best to maintain the position to avoid him, and while he was distracting me with hot kisses on my neck, I felt my feet inevitably get tired with every passing second.

“Let go,” he finally hummed, and just pressed me down. I let out a pained sob and he breathed in low whisper: ”Good girl. Relax now.”

And he ran his fingers around my skin in light, feathery movements, stroking my hair, down my breasts and belly, and then up my back and neck. I was utterly confused, panting heavily, and when he slid his hot tongue in my mouth, I realized my own tongue was answering him, moving in his circles as if in a dance. He added a few slow movements of his pelvis and I shuddered at the hot wave it sent through my body. I started to sob anew.

Taking no heed of that, he suddenly lifted me up in the air and headed for the bed. I screamed out and kicked him, taking him by surprise. He swore and let me go, but only for a moment, before he yanked me violently and threw me over his shoulder. He strode to the bed and threw me onto the pillows mercilessly. He took a second to take off his tunic, revealing his wide shoulders and smooth upper body. I struggled on my elbows to back away from him, but he was there again to grab me by the ankle and yanked me back. Then he knelt on the bed and pinning my hands above my head, lay down on me full weight, pressing the huge bulge of erection against my thigh. I whimpered under him in distress, my breath once again taken away by his muscular weight. He rose to support himself on one elbow, and with one free hand unbuckled his pants swiftly, not even bothering to take them off. At this moment, his long hair fell on my face in a dark cascade, and it felt so soft against my skin that I stared up at him in surprise. Our eyes met and what I saw in his icy gaze made me shiver - it was the victory of a hunter.

It was this moment that I realized the inevitable. This time I will not escape, no matter how hard I try.

Grabbing my legs, he forced my knees up so that they were now nearly reaching my ears. He planted a few hot kisses on my inner thighs, then took out his huge member and positioned himself in between. He pressed the tip of his stone-hard cock against my entrance and I whimpered in the anticipation of pain.

He moaned. “You`re all wet for me, little one.”

In one deliberate motion, he rammed his entire length into me, causing me to flinch and cry out at the searing pain. He waited for a few seconds to let me adjust to the impossible thickness, which was obviously not enough, and moved several times in a circular direction. Then he pulled his cock out of me and rammed it all the way in again, causing me to cry out even louder. I was sobbing openly now.

“You are so deliciously tight,” he growled in between the thrusts, keeping a quicker but steady rhythm. “You could convince me you are still a virgin.” Embarrassed, violated and in pain, I closed my eyes, turned away and tried to pretend I was not there and nothing of this was happening.

At that he stopped to move. “Look at me,” he commanded sternly.

When I refused to obey, he bit my neck so hard that I gasped, opening my eyes in shock.

Now he decided to lick and pinch both my nipples, and to my utter dismay, despite all the burning pain in my tunnel, I felt a hot ecstatic wave roll over my body, all the way down to my core. I bit my lip to suppress the sudden urge to moan. I cannot let him know. He resumed fucking me, only harder than before, sliding in and out of me with all the accompanying wet noises, and by his low grunts I could say he was close to his climax. A few more thrusts and he growled his release into my hair. I felt his cock move and twitch inside of me as he spasmed, riding out his orgasm.

Now he pulled his cock out, and I felt his warm seed spill between my thighs. And then on the clean blanket I had changed in the morning. I was all wet and slithery, and felt dirty in all the possible ways.

Thorin knelt on the bed, still panting, and tilted his head to a side, to look at his work. Teary, ravaged, shaking. Desperate.

“Now that looks better,” he said with a soft smile on his lips, as he gently traced my tear-stained cheek with his finger. “A well-behaving, obedient slave.” And he finally liberated himself from his pants, threw them on the ground, and lay down on his back next to me.

I shakily struggled to sit up. My womb, throat and wrists were all hurting and my head felt dizzy. I put my trembling feet on the floor. I need to get rid of your seed.

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked leisurely.

I froze. “To wash myself, Your Majesty.”

“You should not roam around Erebor at night alone, not until the horse riders leave today morning. Stay here, Kate.” When I shrank, he added thoughtfully: “I will not touch you again tonight.” He seemed to actually mean it.

I did not answer. I pondered on his words for a while but was too exhausted to even maintain my sitting position, not to speak about walking or fighting him any longer, so I lay down again on the other end of the bed, as far from Thorin as possible. I covered myself with the blanket and turned my back to him.

After a while I heard his silent breath become steady as he fell asleep. That was when I curled up with my knees up to my chin and started to sob, silently and bitterly. Sharing the king's bed, but still all alone.

XXX

The orc was approaching me with an ever increasing speed. I turned around to run, but my feet sank deep in the ground as it devoured me, bit by bit, having turned into a lake of stinking mud. I screamed for help as he neared me, unsheathing his rusty weapon, and as I struggled for dear life to get out of the mud, it only sucked me in more quickly. The orc stood by me now, grinning victoriously, and leaned in to take a closer look at me.

I screamed my lungs out.

“Wake up, Kate!”

Darkness, absolute darkness in which also the full moon remained hidden behind the clouds.

I felt something near me stir and close in.

I screamed once again and shot out of whatever I was lying on but was immediately pulled back by an invisible hand.

“It was just a dream, Kate! Bad dream. Wake up now!” I heard a familiar voice whisper and then felt a hand on my shoulder, squeezing and rubbing me gently as he spoke. I burst into tears and threw myself in the arms of the figure next to me, crying hysterically, shaking violently between the sobs.

“It's the orc again!”

“I know, you spoke from your sleep. Hush now, little one, it was just a dream. Just a bad dream,” he spoke as he closed his arms around me and planted soft kisses on my forehead and eyelids. “All will be good in the morning.”

“But what if he returns?”

“Then I will scare him away and hunt him down to all ends of Arda.”

“Thank you, you are so kind.”

And he lay me down again, whoever he was, pulling me in his tight embrace as he spread on his back. I put my head on his chest, still sobbing, grabbing at his long locks as fits of crying shook me. I heard his steady heart beat powerfully, and was lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 20

I awoke lying on my side. My head was hurting from the crying, my eyelids swollen, and I felt all shattered and in pain. As my blurred mind began to remember what happened at night, I suddenly realised where I actually was, and when I tried to turn around to check if Thorin was still there, I noticed a muscular hand resting heavily around my waist. He was pressed against my body full length and felt very warm in the chilly morning air. I needed to pee. And I needed to wash his juices off me, above all.

Now, wide awake, I wondered how to stand up and not wake him up at the same time. I slightly wriggled but then froze as I felt him breathe out more loudly and his hand stir on my waist. A few more seconds, and to my utmost horror, it silently moved to my hip and traced my thigh. I felt something hard press against my buttocks and I whimpered.

“Lie still,” Thorin whispered in my ear, his voice still hoarse from the sleep.

His large hand cupped my breast and lazily continued all the way down to my stomach.

“Nei, vaer så snill*... I'm sore from yesterday, Your Majesty… ” I tried my luck, and already felt a lump forming in my throat. Not again, please.

“It will pass,” he hummed, and took my hair out of the way to bare the back of my neck. He pressed his lips to the soft skin and planted on it a few slow kisses, taking his time with me.

At my second unsure “Please don't”, he laughed out, and to show me how irrelevant my pleas were, just flipped me over to my back and supporting himself on one arm, continued to explore my body. He laid his palm flat against my intimate parts and leaned in to kiss me.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Thorin swore and never letting go off me, shouted: “What?!”

From behind the door came a hushed guard`s voice: “Marshal of the Riddermark wishes to speak to you before they depart, Your Majesty.”

There was a dark sparkle in Thorin's eye as he looked down at me. He ran his finger through my hair absent-mindedly, pondering on the possibilities of the encounter. Then he smirked and whispered his “Stay here,” as he pulled the blanket up to my neck. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his leather pants from the floor where he had left them yesterday, and put them on. I watched his naked torso move in the dim morning light, the chiseled muscles of his upper arms working, but then averted my gaze bitterly.

“Bring him in!”

The guard`s footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked away. And then once again, the sound doubled, stopping in front of the door. Thorin unlocked and opened it wide, standing in the gape as a tower with his chin proudly outstretched.

“Marshal.”

Éomer, clad in full armour, stared at Thorin from under his high silver helmet. He looked tired with dark circles under his eyes but struggled it with a certain dignity, now that he regained his former regal countenance. His gaze slid from half-naked Thorin towards me lying on the bed. He swallowed hard.

“Thorin. You did not come down to see us off. I wonder if it was because of the last night or because we are leaving this early,” he paused for a second, and when Thorin did not reply, he continued his speech. “I wish to part with you in friendship, for the sake of both our realms. Let me assure you I remain Lady Dis` humble servant.”

“The friendship stays as it was, Éomer. No disruptions.” Thorin smirked, glancing towards me over his shoulder.

“I am glad to hear that. May I apologise to your slave as well?”

Thorin nodded briefly and stepped away to unblock the entrance. Éomer walked in the chamber and strode towards the bed, his footsteps heavy, his armour clinking as he walked. I shrank under the blanket, feeling my cheeks turning deep red. To my utter astonishment, he knelt on one knee and bowing his head, spoke to me.

“I am sorry for my behaviour last night. I did not mean to insult you, nor do any harm to you. I deeply regret that, my lady.” And before I could open my mouth to speak, he took my hand and pressed his lips to it in a gentle manner. “I shall be forever grateful if you forgive me.” He let my hand go and waited with his head bowed. Oh fuck, just like some Lancelot.

“Yes… umm, I mean… I accept your apology.” What a diplomatic answer.

He immediately stood up, bowed his head slightly, and walked out of the chamber. He turned around at the door and glanced back at me and then at Thorin.

“I wish you well. May both Mahal and Béma* protect you.”

“Fare well, Éomer. We shall meet again soon under merrier circumstances.”

“Aye.” Éomer nodded and strode away. I could hear the echo of his heavy footsteps as Thorin closed the door again, smirking.

“I would not wish to be in his shoes now, with such a hangover. What a pleasant journey he will have,” he said nonchalantly while grabbing his boots from the floor where he had left them the night before. He entered his closet and after a while walked out dressed in a fresh dark blue tunic over linen pants.

“You may dress now.”

As I stood up tiredly to do as he had said, he strolled to the table and reached for a carafe. He poured some wine mixed with water into a tall chalice and drank eagerly. Then he refilled it and turned towards me.

“Drink.”

I dressed in my rumpled dress as quickly as I possibly could, happy to finally have some clothes to cover myself with. Then I took the offered chalice from his hand. I hesitated briefly before bringing it to my cracked lips. Wine on an empty stomach, never a good choice. But then again, why not. Screw it. I need it anyway.

Thorin was watching me intently from under his lashes as I drank. When I emptied the glass, he took it from me and lay it on the table. I looked at him questioningly.

“You can take the bath you asked for last night. Come,” he said placidly as he opened the door and motioned for me to join him.

Notes:

Nei, vaer så snill. - Please don`t. (Norwegian) Béma - the Rohirrim venerated the Vala Oromë the Hunter, whom they called Béma

Chapter 21

Not knowing what to expect, I followed him hesitantly through the corridor. At the end, he turned to the left and then several more times until we reached a distant passage I had not visited before. It was all dark stone with silvery veins but the walls were rough and any carpet was missing. I was wondering what he meant by a bath, so far I had seen no bathtubs in whole Erebor as far as I could go. I only washed myself in a wash basin during my stay.

Finally, Thorin stood in front of large, ordinary-looking door. He opened it with a creak and a wave of hot humid air steamed out from the inside. He stepped in and turned back to me with his hand outstretched:

“Come in, Kate, you will like it.”

What I saw first in the room were three large pools sunken in the ground in what reminded me of the ancient Greco-Roman style, with stone stairs leading down inside. The floor was of polished stone tiles of sandy shades such as the walls, and as I stepped in barefoot, I realised in astonishment it was all warm as if underlain with underfloor heating. There were a few shelves with bath necessities scattered around the room. The air was filled with warm, intoxicating incense, and natural light was coming in from some hidden source.

I exhaled. Such pampering beauty in such a harsh place! For a moment I forgot my troubles and drank in the soothing atmosphere.

“I didn't know something like this existed in Erebor,” I uttered under my breath, my eyes fixed on the nearest pool on which rim lay a few filigran bottles of what looked like precious oils and bars of soap. I could swear I smelled subtle scent of roses even here.

“The pools are filled with thermal water, we have a few springs originating here under the mountain. And, of course, the River Running,” he paused as he grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf. “They are of real value especially in winters such as this. The waters are then used for heating in the lower chambers. They are allowed to circulate until they thoroughly cool. A true masterwork of our builders,” Thorin explained proudly.

I knelt next to the closest pool impatiently and sank my hand in it. It was very hot and I immediately withdrew it with a grin.

Thorin smiled. “Try the one in the middle. They are of different temperatures.”

I took a few steps to the right and sank my foot in the water. It felt pleasantly warm, and I suddenly no longer cared who was present at that moment. I took off my dress in a second, threw it on the ground and walked down a flight of steps into the pool. I waited a few more seconds to adjust to the temperature and then fully submerged into the water, withholding my breath. Dull, echoing silence embraced me, and I enjoyed it to the fullest.

When I reluctantly resurfaced and wiped the water from my eyes, I saw Thorin had already entered the same pool. He was leaning against the pool wall with his eyelids half-closed, his hair and skin all wet, resting, not seeming to care about me. I decided to ignore him and enjoy this treatment as much as I possibly could. I walked towards the far end rim and took a soap which lay there prepared along with neatly piled towels and sheets of various sizes. I turned my back to Thorin and indulged in carefully washing my skin, my hair, my womb. I took particular care in cleansing the latter. I submerged once again in the water and took my place opposite the stairs into the pool, as far from Thorin as possible. Then I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of total void in my head. I felt the wine I had drunk a few moments ago hitting my head, the effect boosted by the heat of the bath. I hummed to myself in silent approval.

I heard the water splash, and when I opened my eyes again, Thorin was standing in front of me with wide grin on his face. Slowly, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, ever-so-gently. I shuddered, and he tucked a strand thread of my hair behind my ear. The little gesture was so intimate and caring that I wondered if this was the same man as last night.

“What do you want from me? What do you really want?” I shot honestly without thinking.

He withdrew immediately and our gaze locked for a few long seconds. He blinked a few times, then leaned in again so close I could feel his breath on my skin, and said, his eyes deeply penetrating me.

“I want you to spread your legs for me willingly, freely, and enjoy it as much as I do.”

My breath hitched in my throat and it took a lot of effort for me to remain calm. “You know I can't do it.”

“Yes you can. And you will.” He played with my wet hair as he spoke, so close now he literally pinned me to the pool wall. His powerful body pressed against mine in the hot water.

“How do you want it this time, Kate?”

“I don't want it at all,” I whispered.

“Do not lie to me. How do you want it this time, I asked.”

He pressed against me even harder, placing both of his hands on the pool rim, having me trapped in between. Alright then, I thought desperately. So be it. Maybe I will be lucky to finish it before it even starts. And without a warning, I grabbed his mighty erection and started to stroke it fervently, up and down, mechanically, shamelessly and efficiently. He moaned in surprise and stopped whatever he was planning to do, enjoying my attention with his eyes closed and lips parted. More sure now, I started to stroke him faster, and that was when he opened his eyes and tilted his head in a sudden realisation.

“Oh no, not this way, sweet one.” He groaned, liberating his member from my grip and placing my hand around his waist. “Let me rephrase my question. What do you want me to do to you?”

I shuddered once again. I looked up at him, in his sky-blue eyes now darkened with determination and the air of finality of his decision, and knew nothing more could be done, not even this time. I felt the intoxicating effect of the wine combined with sleep deprivation, the warmth of both Thorin towering above me, radiating strength and health, and the water infused with precious oils, and I was so exhausted that suddenly my head felt dizzy and I no longer cared. I swallowed hard.

“Be gentle. Be as gentle as you can, please.” I heard myself say against all reason, as if from a distance, and could not believe the pleading, unsure voice which had spoken the invitation belonged to me.

“No more fighting?”

I just shook my head tiredly. At that, he leaned in and claimed my mouth, slowly, deeply, passionately, taking his time with me. His hands wandered around my body in large circles and I felt myself melting as an ice cube thrown into fire. A soft moan escaped my lips and he groaned into my mouth at that. He withdrew and placed butterfly kisses on my neck and ears, and it was so hard to resist the sensations it sent through my core that I shivered and dug my nails deep into his skin. He looked deep into my eyes and without a warning lifted me in the water so that it came splashing out of the pool, pressing me against the wall with a low gurgling grunt. I whimpered in distress, but he kissed my lips gently.

“I will not enter you now, trust me.” He waited for a few seconds for his words to sink in, and then added. “Just wrap your legs around me.”

Hesitantly, I did as he said, and he rubbed against my intimate parts, slowly and self-cautiously. His wet hair got in between our lips as he pressed them again against mine and I brushed it away with my free hand, feeling my last conscious blocks dissolving in the thick humid air.

Screw it, screw it all. I don't care, just for now.

He continued to caress me, here and there planting soft kisses on my shoulder and along the collarbone, his narrow hips rested against mine, foreshadowing what might be coming later, still and unmoving, only occasionally suggesting a slight thrust forward. I realised my breath quickened and was coming in shallow gasps now, and I wondered how long he will be able to withhold his suppressed desire. He was squeezing me with more force now and his face turned to the mask of terrible, all-devouring hunger. His teeth were bruising my lips as he kissed me, and at one moment I whimpered in pain. At that, he withdrew from me, panting heavily, scrutinising me for a brief moment, and I thought that was the moment he would take me with full force. Instead, to my utter astonishment, he let go off me, putting my legs carefully back on the tiled pool floor, and lifted himself out of the pool, supported only by his arms. He rested for a few moments with his head slightly bowed as if to compose himself, then he stood up and walked to a shelf from which he grabbed a large towel. He carelessly rubbed himself dry, then took another one along with a bottle of what looked like some oil and walked back towards me. I noticed his massive erection even from here as he strode, his wet hair flowing down his muscled wide arms and chest. There were also a few scars and the latest, already healed nasty wound, which reached from under his armpit straight down to the ribs. The memory of the last battle. I had actually never seen him all naked in full light, and my breath hitched at the embodiment of the manly beauty.

Aware of my wide stare, he squatted by the pool with a self-conscious smirk. He took me by hips and arms and in one powerful movement pulled me out of the pool, backwards, so that I lay on my back on the tiled floor. It was surprisingly warm and reminded me of a tepidarium used in modern sauna worlds. I let my body absorb the dry warmth as my tense muscles started to relax, along with a few strokes of Thorin's hand around my face, breasts and belly. Then he pulled me to a sitting position, and to my surprise, reached out for the second towel to rub me dry. Gently, soothingly he brought it to my face, hair and body, and did not stop until my legs and feet were dry too. He gestured for me to make room between my thighs, and I obeyed. Without even looking, he pressed the towel gently at my womanhood, never breaking the eye contact with me. The softest moan escaped my lips and he smiled with satisfaction. I felt blood rise into my cheeks.

“Have no shame, my sweet one,” he whispered under his breath before licking at my neck. Then he gently pushed his hot tongue inside my ear, playfully, and this time I moaned loudly at the sensation and to my utter dismay, realised my thighs were shaking violently from the desire. I could not hold it away from him anymore, and he knew it full well.

He reached out for the bottle, poured a few drops of its contents into his palms and rubbed them together. He then brought them to my shoulders and ran his fingers across my muscles, here and there giving a few light squeezes. The moisture was indeed scented oil, relaxing and intoxicating at the same time, and I could swear I felt in it subtle tones of a rose, lavender and some exotic flowers I did not recognize. He slowly pushed me back to lie on the floor. His hands continued their journey along my breasts, belly and down to my legs, and I shivered as he traced my feet and soles and massaged them softly, applying extra oil.

The king tending to his slave`s feet, how absurd.

Then he returned upwards, and spreading my legs gently, let the oil drop on my clit and flow further down to the floor. He brought his index finger down and traced my core with one feathery movement. At that, my back arched high and I moaned loudly, digging my fingernails in my palms. This earned me his deep-set growl, as he pushed the bottle aside, and mounted me quickly, settling himself between my wide-spread thighs.

I no longer cared. I no longer thought. All I knew was I wanted my release, the little joy I believed I had earned after the long months of fear and inner pain, and if this joy was to come from Thorin, my goddamn captor, then so be it.

He leaned in to ravish my mouth hungrily, then withdrew to take a good look at me, spread under him, a willing, waiting woman with passion in her eyes, and his features softened for a brief moment, before turning fiercer again. Holding my hips in place with one hand, with the other supporting himself, he placed the tip of his erection against my core and entered me in one strong, resolute movement. I gasped at the sudden intrusion, but he stopped briefly to wait for my walls to adjust to his enormous size. Then he resumed his movements and claimed me in long, deep and slow thrusts, his features all lust and passion finally unleashed. I was still sore from the last night, and the subtle burning pain reminded me very well of how very different the act felt this time, for as he continued to move inside of me, the pain subsided and turned into a brand new feeling - ecstasy in wild abandon. I writhed and moaned under him, as his thrusts became deeper and faster, his own breath coming along with growls as he rode me, the beast in him never taking over the control, as was seen in his determined features. At one moment he looked down at me and grunted:

“Come for me, my sweet one.”

And he bit me in the neck, more teasingly than fiercely, as he continued to ride me, and I felt my climax approaching rapidly. A few more powerful thrusts, and a hot wave of sweet pleasure rolled over me as I came wildly, washing away all my distress, fear and anger which had built in me over the months, and I released a loud tortured cry. Never giving me time to recover, he lifted my legs high above my hips to support them on his shoulders and rammed his cock inside me once again, thrusting in and out wildly, claiming his ownership of me. Finally, he growled deeply and came hard into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch in my tight tunnel. Then he stilled and remained nestled between my legs for a few moments, resting on me, panting.

Finally, he stroked my cheek with his thumb and pulled out, seating himself next to me. I rolled over to one side with my back to him, still panting, powerless, exhausted, pleased and utterly lost in a thousand contradictory emotions. Tears stung in my eyes, and I did not know why exactly I was crying this time.

This man. I loathed him and at the same time was thankful for the joy he had just brought to me, however insane it sounded.

He interrupted my train of thought by whispering from behind my back: “You will have to take another bath, it seems.”

I glared at him.

“You too!” forgetting I was actually being rude to the king, but did not care.

He did not seem to be bothered by that as he stood up and strode towards the pool. I struggled to a sitting position, my head even more dizzy than before, then stood up clumsily, realising my legs were shaking.

Seeing that, without a single word, Thorin returned to me, lifted me in his arms and carried me into the pool, watching his steps carefully not to slip. There, to my utter shock, he washed me himself, bringing the cloth gently between my thighs, cleaning thoroughly the remains of our encounter, and I could not help the feeling he was thus making up for the horrors of the last night.

Did he feel guilty though? I could not tell.

Chapter 22

Right thereafter, Thorin led me to the dining room. I asked him if I could instead go to my chamber and get some sleep but he insisted that I eat first. I followed him to the room on the highest floor from where I used to take the breakfast for him. It used to be empty at early dawn, but this time I was taken aback to meet Dis who had been seated at the far end of the table. Her eyebrow rose as she saw us enter the room side by side, our hair all wet, and the expression made her resemble Thorin so much that I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Sister! Good morning,” said Thorin, smiling. He walked towards her and bent down to kiss her cheek.

“Thorin, good to see you! Join me and make up for your neglecting me all those mornings past,” she smiled back at him, pointing to a few empty chairs. Thorin chose the one opposite her and sat down heavily.

“Would you mind a little company? My little slave would like to join us for breakfast,” he said playfully and gestured for me to come closer. I slightly bowed towards Dis.

“Of course, good morning, Kate. Come and sit down.”

“Good morning, my lady.”

There were three free chairs separating the siblings, and I chose to sit on the one in the middle, right in between them. I folded my hands in my lap and watched them in a silent, tired anticipation, hoping we would finish soon so that I could retire.

Thorin reached for a richly decorated plate and as a darwish maid marched in balancing other plates full of delicacies in her arms, he ordered her to bring me strong coffee first. The maid bowed and disappeared immediately. She was back in a minute, placing in front of me a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and an empty plate so that I could choose whatever I wanted. I put two spoons of sugar in it and inhaled the aroma deeply. My first coffee after… how long was it, after all? I could not remember.

The royal siblings continued in an agreeable chatter, but I did not listen to them. My stomach was all shrunken, so after a while I just tried a few sips of my coffee. It tasted most delicious, and an unwanted memory of me and my friends sitting in my favourite cafe back in Bergen flashed in front of my eyes. My past life. It was now that it was out of reach that I could finally appreciate it, the little unimportant choices I could enjoy freely, and my problems which at that time looked enormous, were but futile issues of a spoiled child.

“ - how pale she has turned. You should not be that demanding, Thorin. Have some mercy on her.”

“You do not need to worry, sister. It is nothing a few more hours of sleep would not make up for. Besides, she is learning quickly. I do not think any more harder handling will be needed.”

I lifted my eyes from the steaming coffee. Are they really discussing me as if I was not there listening? Decency of the Durins was certainly not something I could count on. But right now, I did not really care. The sounds and images came to me as if through a thick haze, owing to the wine, my troubled and exhausted mind, and all I wanted was to just be released and shut myself out in my chamber and make the whole world disappear for at least a millennium. And, most importantly, come to terms with the recent events.

“Oh no, I know you too well, Thorin, you are enjoying this too much. Have her rest properly, have her eat properly, show her how kind you can be, how we all know you. Do not let her wither and or die trying to escape again, you do not want that, after all.”

Thorin was listening to his sister with a slight frown, but he appeared not angered, but rather amused by her scolding.

“You speak as if you were older than me, Dis,” he smirked, reaching out for another piece of cheese. Then he waved her complaints away. “As I said, she is making good progress and just needs time to process it all and adapt. Do not worry about that. What needs to be dealt with though are her nightmares. She is deeply troubled, even after all this time.” He glanced at me briefly before turning to his sister again.

How the hell did he know?! I had not spoken of them to anyone, there was no way he could have…

“What nightmares?”

“Of the orcs attacking. I doubt she will ever sleep peacefully unless she gets over those. She woke up thrice last night screaming. It has been more than six months since I brought her here, sister, that is not a good sign at all.”

“Oh,” Dis threw a sympathetic glance at me. “There should still be a way to help her cope with her past.”

“Perhaps.”

“Teach me how to fight.” My palm shot up to my mouth immediately to cover it. I had not realized what I was saying before I uttered the quick words.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Thorin spoke again, surprised.

“The art is not taught to everybody that simply, and especially not to the lower ranking subjects. What do you expect from it, Kate?”

“To be able to defend myself, under any circumstances, Your Majesty. If you grant me that wish, I would like to at least try.”

“Let her try, Thorin, it will do her good,” Dis rushed in to help.

Thorin took a deep breath and then, having come to a conclusion, said thoughtfully.

“Very well, fight what you fear, Kate. Face the enemy within and turn your pain to hate, it will make you stronger. It might even help you regain your courage.” He paused for a long moment, his eyes turning to a distant point of his past which I could not reach nor comprehend. They flickered with a dark consuming fire before it died out again. “I will have somebody teach you how to fight. After all, you have earned it. With a sword, perhaps, or a sax, the axe would be too heavy for you. What do you say to that? A sword or a sax, which one do you prefer?” He leaned in as he shook off his memories, the tiny flame of amusement springing in his eyes now.

My jaw dropped. The first actual thought was “ Whatever small to help me stab you in the heart at night ” but naturally, I had to swallow it. What came out of my mouth was what they had expected, I think.

“I do not know what a sax is, Your Majesty.”

“A broad-blade knife, or a short sword, depending on its length. It is a better choice for your tiny hands.”

“Then let it be the sax, thank you,” I answered blankly, hunching over my cup once again. Whatever, really. But I already felt the boosting effect of coffee as the cloud over my mind started lifting.

Dis laughed out amused, pushing a plate with a few pieces of cake in front of me as she spoke. “This reminds me of my first lesson back when I was ten. I like the sax, it is a small weapon but deadly nonetheless. You will learn to fight like a dwarvish warrior, Kate, what an honour!”

I managed a tired smile at her. “Oh, is it?”

“Of course! And have some cake, dear, you need to eat something,” she urged me, bringing her cup of tea to her lips.

The conversation had turned again to some unimportant topics for which I was grateful. At least they did not pay any more attention to me and I could enjoy the meal. After I had eaten everything from the plate which Dis pushed in front of me, Thorin gracefully dismissed me.

“Go and have some rest. I will not expect your service tomorrow morning, so you may sleep longer and recover your strength.” I thanked him and as I did my curtsy before leaving, he added: “From now on, you may use the baths freely and without any company.”

At this, my heart jumped with joy, and I sent him a genuine smile, because it really made me happy. After how long, I could not remember. Perhaps I had become too numb to certain feelings, this is what Erebor made of me.

“Thank you so much!” I made another curtsy, not knowing how else to thank him. It is so strange that these little acts of kindness can make such a big difference, and now I was more than ready to welcome them, parched as I was for humanity.

He smiled back at me, the carefree and enchanting young expression returning once again to his features, but then he waved me away impatiently, obviously having something else on his mind to be discussed with his sister.

Just after I crossed the threshold, he returned to her, his voice was grave as he offered a strange solution:

“You have certainly heard of the events at the feast. We do not have to do this, Dis, there is still time to take back your word before the preparations begin. I will not have you unhappy for the rest of your life.”

“But what other choice do we have, Thorin?”

“We can still find some other ally, albeit from a longer distance,” he spoke softly.

“You know there are no other suitable options, unless you want me to marry an elf. Oh no, do not tempt me, not now that I have finally said yes. He might still be a barbarian who dares to bully slaves, but he will not dare to intimidate a lady. And if something goes wrong, I will return, he cannot hold me there by force. For the sake of Erebor. I might even have children once again...” she stopped as her voice broke.

“Dis… ”

I did not hear more as the rest of the strange conversation died out when I hurried away through the dimly lit corridor.

(to be continued here and in my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satiah81/works)

#thorin #thorin oakenshield x oc #angst #non-con #non-canon #post-botfa #smut #hurt/comfort #dom/sub undertone #dark thorin #master/slave #possessive thorin #protective thorin #dubious consent #slavery #hobbit fanfiction

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