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Vale of the White Horse
Topic Started: 5 Jan 2010, 13:03 (19,302 Views)
Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
She couldn't see the good in what she'd done, but choose to ignore that thought as she got to her feet. Trying her best not to look at the dead man's face, she pulled the dagger from his neck and cleaned it in the same way Rhywallon had done. Then she wiped the blood from her face with the hem of her cloak. She must look frightfully pale - that's how she felt, at least. 'Are you all right?' she asked and failed an attempt at pulling the corners of her mouth up into a brave smile.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘Of course.’ As a matter of fact, the simple purpose of a fight had cleared his mind more than a dip in the cold river could. This was something he understood, better yet: something he could exercise control over. Fear, he found, was not so easily mastered. ‘We wait for evening to go on. The dark can cover us as we try to get in, but the tent of the – this man will be well in the middle.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian nodded to show that she understood and went to get her horse, which had run off a ways and was now standing near a small thicket. It was still looking a little wild-eyes, but after some gentle coaxing it followed her to the Roman camp. Her eye fell on the cookingfire. 'Look, they were kind enough to provide us with food,' she said and pointed at the pan hanging over the fire from a rig. Something that smelled really good was bubbling away inside.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)

‘That’s good,’ he said mildly, while hoping that a change of guards was not due until much later. ‘We need our strength. Gwenllian.’ He crouched down, looking at the flames as though they could help him find the words he was looking for. ‘…When this is over…I don’t know if I can still be a man with a purpose in mind.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
'Of course you can,' she said and scooped the food into two bowls. 'You just need to find a new purpose.' But she wondered if it would be as easy as she made it sound. Probably not. Gwenllian held one of the bowls out to Rhywallon.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
He said nothing to this, but ate the food in silence. His stomach wasn’t so empty that he felt like stuffing it; hunger usually kept him fitter than satiation. It was their luck that fall was deeply progressing; the early morning fields were usually covered with frost; soon, winter would coat the first dales with snow, and now the sun sunk rapidly beyond the border of the world, as if it did not wish to linger much longer on this dark earth than was necessary.
While the dense forest on the other side of the river swallowed the last rays in a tangle of leaves and winding foliage, the hills over this side bathed a few moments longer before the shadows stretched from slope to slope. The sky was dotted with stars. He rose; legs like a nest of ants running up and down. ‘You agreed to heed my orders. This is as far as you’ll come, Gwenllian. Wait here for my return.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
She swallowed. If she was completely honest, she did not desire in the least to enter the camp herself. But what if Rhywallon wouldn't return? The thought made her want to talk the idea out of him. With some effort, she managed not to. It was selfish, she told herself. He must do this to get peace. 'I know you can do it,' she said instead, her voice quavery despite her best efforts. 'I'll pray.'
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘Pray your hardest.’ He bowed over and allowed his lips to brush over the hill of her brow. ‘Farewell, Gwenllian.’
Then he straightened up and, without looking back, stalked into the darkness.
The closer he drew to the camp, the more he felt like his knees would give in. It was foolish, he told himself, forcing his knuckles white with the power of his clenched hands. He allowed himself this locked up pose, as if he had become a standing stone - only one moment. Now he needed to relax, take a professional look on the matter and perform to his usual standards. There were some trees on his left, too scarce to find shelter in with the tents rising up on the hill like bizarre flowers. But on the other hand, a few paces downhill, grew some evergreen bushes. He slit down, crawling until he was nearly covered. They had picked their camping spot very well indeed. The man who ran it left very little to chance. Slithering downhill even more, he reached the outskirts of the tents, but the light of the oil lamps spilled the other way. He stayed close to the earth, pressing his belly against it as if he were a really a snake. Footsteps approached him. A man, by the sight and sound of him not much different in weight and built. He took out his lid, taking a piss into the shadows. Rhywallon smelled the strong toxic of urine. He clenched his jaws and didn’t wait until the man had fully emptied his bladder. Jumping up, he slammed a hand into his face, digging his fingers into the man’s cheeks and preventing a scream. The blade of his dagger found the throbbing artery beneath his jaw, and cut it like a girl sliding a piece of yellow butter apart. Rhywallon dragged him into the shadows of the thicket. It was a heavy weight to pull uphill, but finally he could strip him off the Roman garb, donning it himself. Like this he made his way to the edge of the camp, entering but not daring to show himself in full. His face would attract too much attention.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian poked into the fire with a stick. The five dead bodies lay scattered on the grass just outside the light of the fire, which was just as well. She didn't want to lose her dinner so soon. It started to get colder as the evening progressed, and soon her cloak wasn't enough to ward off the nightly chills. She crawled into the tent and got a couple of furs and a blanket, dragging them outside. A few kept her off the cold earth, others she wrapped around her shoulders. After feeding some extra wood to the fire, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. She didn't want to think about what could happen to Rhywallon. Instead, she focussed herself on the crackling flames, trying to discover shapes in them. With regular intervals, she looked around for signs of anyone approaching.
There couldn't have been much time between Rhywallon's departure and the sound of approaching feet. Raucous voices rang through the night air, complaining about sentry-duty. Gwenllian's heart got caught in her throat. There was no where she could hide except in the tent; if she tried sneaking away to the forest they would surely see and catch her. The voices died away as she shot into the tent, taking the furs with her. If she was lucky, they would make for camp the minute they saw the bodies of their dead comrades, allowing her to escape to the thicket. She could hear the mixed up talk from the soldiers and took her dagger, just in case. She kept as still as possible. Outside she could hear one of the men ordering the others to spread out and search for clues. Just as she was starting tot hink she'd be incredibly lucky, the tent was pulled open. She hardly dared breathe as the soldier started pushing things around. When she felt something tug at the fur that covered her, she braced herself. As it was pulled off of her, she jumped to her feet and slashed the dagger in the direction of the man's face. But he was too quick to recover, pulling back his chin to avoid the blade. Her knife only grazed his cheek. Panicking, Gwenllian turned around and drove her dagger into the fabric of the tent in an attempt to rip open an escape route. Before she could've made her way out, however, she felt two heavy arms wrap around her and wresting the dagger from her fingers.
'Let me go!' she screamed, at the same time the man shouted to his fellow soldiers that he'd caught one. She wildly trashed her legs, but even the kicks that did land on target seemed to do nothing. Then something hit her in the back of her head, and everything went black.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)

Circling the border had given him an idea of this side of the camp. Romans were ingenious in their layouts; it was just as organized as their fights. He knew that it scared many warriors of his own people. Romans did not dash forward into a fight, like many individual men, but moved as one creature, forming a crushing hand with many fingers. The tents were set up like little villages, with men walking between the rows to and fro, but never without a purpose. This was going nowhere, unless he moved forward and trust the night and his Roman garb to cover for him. Fires were lit at several places, but he could avoid them if he paid attention.
Rhywallon emerged from the edge, passing row after row of tents, following the makeshift streets that led to the centre. That was where the higher ranked military men drank their ale or whatever the hell they called their foreign booze. He wondered how many of them he could take down if he dipped a torch into the flames and lit the encampment in a blaze of fire.
Suddenly, there was the brawl of voices ringing his way, making him rigid from shock for a heartbeat. He turned. They were just drunk, probably returning from sentry duty and preparing for a night with drink and women. How many girls of his own kin had they already absudcted for their pleasure, he wondered bitterly. Look, there was one of them. The party surrounded her, but he could still see her slim form as they dragged her along with them as if they were taking a ragged doll. A streak of firelight passed over her. She had red hair, blossoming up in the night air. So she was definitely one of his own. He watched as the flames lit her face, that was – Gwenllian’s.
‘No.’ It was a statement of disbelief. Rhywallon thought that his heart stopped beating; they might as well have reached inside his chest to rip it out. ‘Gwen – Gwenllian –’
How could he have been so reckless? How could he even have considered the idea of leaving her on her own by the sentry post? Stab him between the ribs for that, curse him to a thousand! Rhywallon moved back, though all he really wanted was to dash forward, grab the still form of the girl from their hands and leave this place. But he must think clear, rescue her before all else –
‘Say, Scarface, seen a pagan ghost?’
He whipped around. The Roman standing behind him wore the better clothes of a high official. Rhywallon searched for his dagger, but the man pressed his own sword at his throat before he could move his hands closer to the hilt. ‘Step into the light for a moment, won’t you? Don’t think I’ve seen you before. State your name.’
He drew back into the light of the fire, away from the sharp blade. The party with Gwenllian had halted, waiting until they, too, could see what was happening. To hell with it then. Jumping another step back, he whirled, drawing his dagger. ‘Gwenllian! Wake up, right now!’ His voice was hoarse, like he had been inhaling a lot of smoke. Tents opened at the sounds and soon more soldiers spilled out. He fought. He thought he took down three or five, and also that some of the fresh blood on his stolen clothes was his own.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
When she tried to open her eyes, it was like someone had tied rocks to her lashes to keep them closed. Gwenllian felt nauseous and she had a splitting headache, something that did not improve with the racket going on around her. Was that someone shouting her name? No, she must be imagining things. There was hard rock underneath her. After trying again and again, she could finally open her eyes and see what was going on. Her heart nearly stopped: she was in the Roman camp. Oh, what would Rhywallon say if he saw her now? She tried to get up and sneak away unnoticed, but there were so many soldiers around her it was doomed to fail. One of the men picked her up, grabbing her wrists in one hand, and threw her over his shoulder. As he did, Gwenllian caught a glimpse of what was the cause of that noise. The soldiers were circled around one man, clad in the same garb as they were. But she'd recognize that form on the darkest night.
'Rhywallon!' she shrieked without thinking and doubled her efforts to get loose. Then one of her hands was free, and she pushed her nails into the face of the man holding her, tearing at the skin. He cursed and tried to pull her hand off of him, but he lost his balance and Gwenllian could pull herself free. She even managed to take two steps towards Rhywallon before she felt hands on her hips and arms, dragging her back.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
Someone grabbed his arms, bending them behind his back. He struggled one free, hitting a face, a nose, a jaw. This was not a fight he could win. He knew that. Perfectly. If some blade found its cold way into his heart now, or in his side, at least this life would be over. He turned. His free arm got pulled back; he felt a rough cord wind around it. All he wanted was to keep his eyes on Gwenllian. That she had been so close to him was something he should never have allowed to happen. It was enough – for him it was enough, but he could hardly die here and leave her to the mercy of Roman soldiers.
Now his dagger was away from him. His wrists were bound. They dragged him one way, Gwenllian another.
‘It’s his sweetheart,’ he heard one of the voices say. ‘Hey, Scarface. Stay with us now. We don’t make prisoners like you everyday.’
Oh, but he was with them. He was with her, though he could hardly see her through the number of men surrounding her while they took him to another tent. ‘Gwenllian!’ he shouted until his voice was raw. ‘Gwenllian!’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
She called his name again and again until her voice broke into a sob. But she didn't want to cry, not surrounded by these men. Swallowing her tears, she let herself be dragged away from him.
'Aw, don't cry, sweetcheeks,' one of the soldiers said. She didn't need to see his face to know that he was grinning lustily. 'We'll make you feel really welcome here.'
Gwenllian started struggling again. 'Let me go - oh, please, don't hurt him,' she begged, the words tumbling from her lips.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
They slipped a dark cloth before his eyes, blocking out his clear view. Blinded, they tugged on him and pushed him, their filthy hands on his body. Rhywallon could only think about what such hand were doing to Gwenllian right now. They pushed him in a tent, where he fell hard on his knees. Some people above him snickered.
The bondages held too tight. He could not wriggle his wrists loose; yet he writhed and struggled.
‘Try it and you’ll cut yourself open,’ said a voice. At once he sat still. The voice was cold, perfectly controlled. Tendrils of cruel shadows vibrated in the words, making him feel as if his breath froze in his lungs. A wild fear blinded him next, engulfing him like a wave. Like a dark, grey lake with nothing but sinking.
‘Did you think I would not recognize a face like yours?’
A rustle of clothes, then a hand touched the line of his jaw. A moment later, the blindfold was removed. ‘Hardly changed over the years, then. Did you come and take revenge on me, boy?’
Rhywallon stared up into the face of his worst nightmare. The fact that he looked so remarkably human only scared him more. Thick brows, grey eyes. There was a smile on his thin lips. The man had gone greyer over the years, but it was still so sickingly the same – Rhywallon leaned over and retched. The man only took a step back. He saw the shining Roman boots, fit for travel in these rough areas. When there was nothing left of the food he had eaten with Gwenllian, the Roman bowed over and took his chin between cold fingers. The grip was hard. ‘So, what was your plan of action? I see you have managed to acquire some of our clothes. Thought I would not remember what I had done to you, boy?’
Rhywallon said nothing. He wanted to scream.
‘Ah well. Perhaps the fire took your tongue…Or did I cut it out while I was working your face?’ The Roman cocked his head. ‘You must have been screaming. See, some details are lost to me. You can fill me in.’ He straightened up. ‘As soon as you start talking, of course.’
The tent opened, a Roman walked in, whispering something. Rhywallon thought that, until this moment, the face was that of his nightmares. Now a smile spread slowly from one corner of the mouth, and if he had thought that his own was a demon’s face, it was nothing compared to this. ‘Then bring her in.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
The soldiers had filled her ears with disgusting talk about what they'd do with her once their commander had given permission until she trembled uncontrollably, not only with fear but also with anger. She'd scratch the eyes out of every soldier who tried, if she had to. Just when she thought they were going to leave her alone for a bit, two other men came in and motioned to the others. Gwenllian was hoisted to her feet and pushed in the direction of the tent entrance. The rope they'd used to bind her wrist cut into her skin. Before she walked out, one of the newcomers tied another cord around her throat. There was a wicked grin on his face and her face started burning.
She was taken to one of the largest tents she had ever seen: it even surpassed Lentulus' in size. Once inside, she saw Rhywallon sitting on his knees with a forlorn expression on his face that broke her heart. There was a Roman standing close to him. He was an elderly man, but the look in his eyes was so full of cold, calculated wickedness she had to look away. What little hope of escape she'd still dared to cherish disappeared as waterdroplets on a hot iron plate.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘They tell me she belongs with you.’
Rhywallon jerked, trying again to tear his hands loose from the bondage, but he only felt something warm drip down his hands. What good would it do Gwenllian if he tore his arteries and bled to death before her eyes? They had bound a rope around her throat as if she was a dog on a leash. It made him want to throw up again, but his belly was empty. Spurius Sulpicius had seen it too. Rhywallon followed the man with eyes burning like he had a sudden fever. The Roman took his time, examining Gwenllian’s face at leisure. ‘Another sister of yours? Or did you actually manage to attract a sweetheart despite that face?’
‘Let her go.’ It was only a growl.
But the Roman slipped a hand over the leash on her neck. ‘This is convenient. I can make you sit and stand however I want. Mh.’ As if to experiment, he tugged at it. Rhywallon could hardly watch.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian stumbled and nearly fell. The only thing that held her up was knowing that the rope around her neck could strangle her if the man did not let go. Tears of humiliation pricked in her eyes, but she tried to hold them back. Looking past the Roman at Rhywallon, she tried to pour all the strength and what little confidence she had left in her gaze. She prayed fervently that the gods might have mercy on them, though in truth she really doubted they would care.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
He swallowed, but caught her eyes. They were turning red, just as the tip of her nose. He really wanted to look some other way, so he did not have to face how she struggled to remain on her feet while the man tried to pull her down. But for her, he held the gaze. I’m sorry,, his lips shaped. He wanted to tell her to be strong, but she already was. Even with a face full of fear, her hair dishevelled and tears wanting to plunge over her cheeks, she had never looked more beautiful to him, or more holy.
‘One of you is going to talk,’ Spurius Sulpicius said pleasantly. His fingers stroked the rope once more, then lifted to the girl’s cheek, so his thumb could stroke her cheekbone. ‘Will it be you? But really, I’m not so interested in what you have to say.’ He turned to Rhywallon briefly. Rhywallon refused to let his eyes wander. ‘What is it with your people that make you love so stubbornly? Look at his eyes, love…ah, but you are already doing that. Such a deep gaze. Like stars, don’t you think? I like your tears. What do you think, Scarface? Is it something of your blood? Why don’t we find out?’ He retrieved a knife and cut one line over his face. A phantom pain raged through his body suddenly. It was not the present blade. It was the ghost of the Roman knives. He let out half a scream half a curse.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
'No!' she shrieked. 'Please, don't!' The tears tumbled down her cheeks, pulling tracks through the dirt on her face. Soldiers behind her started jeering. Gwenllian pulled her bonds so hard they slipped out of the hands that were holding her and she jumped towards Rhywallon. But then one of the soldiers got a hold of the cord around her neck and pulled her down. Her knees smashed into the ground and she gasped for breath through her sobs.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)

Oh, gods. Gwenllian. He wanted to hold her. Perhaps if he sat very still, somehow he could rise. Even with his hands bound, he must be able to do some damage.
‘Gentle, men.’ The Roman walked to Gwenllian and pulled her back on her feet. ‘You still haven’t answered my questions. Is this your sister?’
Rhywallon pulled his shoulders back, hissing ‘No,’ through clenched teeth.
‘Very well. I’m sure you would have hated missing one of them in your most heroic attempt to…oh, but does she even know?’
‘Leave her alone,’ he grated again.
‘None of that.’ The cool eyes searched Gwenllian’s body, then rested on him again. ‘Now for the other question. Did you come here, thinking you could catch me?’
He didn’t answer. The Roman could choke in his answers – he wouldn’t talk if they tortured him.
‘Dressed as a Roman? I have heard something about a man with a scarred face, maimed beyond recognition. Thought that had to be you.’
‘…’
But Spurius Sulpicius let his hand slither over Gwenllian’s breast. ‘Ah now. I think she’ll lose a piece of clothing with every word that you fail to utter.’
He made an involuntary jerk. ‘She’s nothing to do with this!’
‘Why, indeed. And yet she is here with you. Funny how such mechanics works, don’t they? One moment you think you can face the world alone, the next you are down on your knees for the one you love.’ He slipped the knife through Gwenllian’s tunic, stripping it off of her. ‘Why don’t you tell me how that feels for you, love?’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
She tried to pull away from the man's foul touch, but the hand he'd pulled her up with lay around her arm like the claws of a predator around its prey. When the knife slid through her tunic, revealing her smallclothes, she started shivering from cold and humiliation. Her cheeks flamed, but she'd rather die than to show her discomfort. Gwenllian pressed her lips together and tried to put her chin up, but it was as if someone had weighted her down with rocks and earth. 'You -' she started, but found no swearword vile enough to throw at him. 'Choke on it.'
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
He hated what was happening to her, yet a cooler part of his mind reasoned that as long as undressing was all that the Roman was doing, things could be worse. Rhywallon took a breath, trying to calm his pumping lungs. ‘I have come here to kill you. That is true. You deserve nothing less for what you did to me and my family.’
‘Ah - but it was you who destroyed yourselves,’ the Roman laughed, his eyebrows raising. ‘Did I do more than stand by and watch how your family house went up in smoke?’
‘You did enough,’ he growled, feeling the more comfortable fire of anger burn away the threads of his fear.
‘Only to you. Tell me.’ He raised the knife he had used to strip Gwenllian, pressing it to Rhywallon’s cheek. He could not help but flinch. ‘Are you afraid?’
He looked past the man, to his Gwenllian. She stood with her body half-bared, fierce indignation burning on her face. Perhaps there was no shame in fear; not if it was tied so wonderfully to pride, to courage. ‘I am. I fear you.’
The slow smile crept back on the Roman’s face. Rhywallon steadied himself. ‘But I will destroy you.’
‘Did you tell my friend thus much? Have you found them yet, or did you go straight for the head prize?’ Spurius Sulpicius sneered.
‘They are gone,’ Rhywallon snarled. ‘They were just sitting on the same barque, but it was you who steered the helm. So here I am.’
‘Here you are,’ the man agreed, turning to Gwenllian again. ‘So they are dead.’
‘Yes.’ He could still taste the blood of them on his tongue.
‘You see, I don’t very well feel like meeting their fate. Did you know,’ he went on, facing the girl, ‘that your beloved wants to die?’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Was the man implying what she thought he was? Rhywallon had said the burns were his own doing, so it stood to reason that he was the one who set his house on fire. Gwenllian shifted, trying to read the explanation in that scarred, maimed face that was so dear to her. At the same time, she didn't want to know the truth, for it must be dreadful. The Roman stepped in front of her, so that she had to meet his gaze. His stare was cold, but burning, and it sent shivers down her spine. The words that came from his lips were as cold, and sharp as a dagger cutting through flesh. 'Not by your hand,' she said, and even to herself her voice sounded distant, as if someone else was speaking through her lips. Maybe Rhywallon wanted to die, and maybe it was his only chance at peace if he did, but she was willing him to live so hard it had to count for something, shouldn't it?
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘No? Well. You believe he came here to destroy me, for revenge. Perhaps he even convinced himself at some point. But you and I both know, Rhywallon,’ the man hardly looked over his shoulder to meet his face, ‘that what you really yearn for is death. You did not really believe you could best me. What has drawn you here is nothing but the desire to die, at last, by the same hand who took down his family.’
Rhywallon closed his eyes.
‘Tell me it should have happened years ago.’
He didn’t want Gwenllian to hear the words. They sounded ugly in their truth; ugly like himself. ‘It should have happened years ago.’
‘That’s right.’ The Roman continued to pull layers of clothes from Gwenllian. ‘Instead, you just allowed more people to be dragged with you into your grave. That’s cruel, don’t you think, Rhywallon? But you have your ways of saving those you love. I’m not undressing this girl to give her a cold…What I really would like to see from you is that you save her.’
His eyes snapped open.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
He wouldn't have a purpose after this, he'd said. It felt as if the Roman did not only pull the fabric that covered her dignity from her, but her heart also - stamping his booted foot down on it and carving it into tiny shreds. The words Rhywallon spoke were like spears of ice, sending cold shivers down her spine. Once he had told her that he wouldn't be the only man who'd please her. Were those words meant to protect her, or himself? And she'd only pressed herself against him all the more. Would it not have been better had she kept her distance from him after the first time? She knew she couldn't have, not even had she seen this coming. But what had started out as a spring dream, now turned into a nightmare. As the last piece of smallclothing fell on the ground in tatters, a cold breeze circled around her bare limbs. Shivering, she looked up as the Roman spoke again. He wanted Rhywallon to...save her..? The man might as well be pulling the cord taut around her throat, for her breath nearly stopped.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
This would be cruelty beyond words. Rhywallon shook his head. ‘I will not. Not ever.’
‘Hmpf.’ The man strolled away, returning seconds later with a small jug in his hand. Gently, he lifted Gwenllian’s hair, sprinkling the contents of the jug over her body as if he were anointing her. But what he smelled were not perfumed oils. ‘Oil,’ the man said, watching him look. ‘You know how it burns.’
‘Then kill me now!’ Rhywallon said. He had meant it as some powerful growl, but found that it sounded more like pleading. Well, if humiliating him was what would save Gwenllian, he’d roll in the dust before the feet of this man.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
The oil stuck to her skin, the drops trailing down her back like so many snails. Gwenllian couldn't help taking a shuddering breath. There was one thing she knew, and that was that she'd rather die at Rhywallon's hands than fall prey to this vile wretch and live. His sisters must have felt the same, somehow she knew that for certain. Nonetheless, she was scared, almost out of her mind. She couldn't deny the truth anymore, and it was horrible - but in no way was Rhywallon's responsible for it. It had all been the doing of the Roman who was pouring oil over her. When Rhywallon told the man to kill him, it was as if her heart had already started burning up.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘There is something poetic about this…’ The Roman moved his head to both sides, as if to examine Gwenllian from the best angle. ‘I’ve never been much of a poet, but I suppose it has something to do with how the oil makes you shine for us. Would you like to feel his hands on you now, love? Or his lips? I know women usually don’t rouse themselves in the face of danger, but with this he could be inside of you within a breath.’ He let his own hand slide down until it disappeared between her legs.
Rhywallon stiffened. If he refused to alight Gwenllian, would the Roman force him to watch as she died before his eyes? He couldn’t let that happen. He was still one of the brotherhood. This man was nothing but a mortal. Whatever his mind had made of him, monsters only really existed within the Other realm. I should not let the fear get the best of me. Only sheer brilliance could get them out of this alive. He just had to be brilliant then. Faultless. Quick.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian would rather bite her tongue in two than to give the Roman the satisfaction of a reaction, but she couldn't help the tensing of her thighs or her belly when his fingers sought and found her most intimate place. It made her feel sick to the core of her very being. 'Stop..touching me.' Her voice was but a faint breath, but it was all she could do to keep herself standing, much less come up with snippy remarks that may or may not make matters only worse.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘You’re faced with two choices, Rhywallon,’ he said, but removed his hand.
‘What?’ Rhywallon hissed through his teeth.
‘Who will burn her? You? I’ll let them unbind you if you will. Or me? I’m afraid you’ll have to stay as you are then.’
His mind was reeling. With only a few seconds to think of a way out of this, he found that he could not think at all. But he must. Despite of the danger, despite of his love for her, he must become as he had been before; cold, detached. ‘Is that really all?’ His lips felt numb, but he could at least talk without shaking.
The Roman raised his eyebrows in a moment of genuine surprise. ‘You call that a simple thing?’
‘No. But for you, surely, there must be something more satisfying.’
‘Calculating your chances? I knew you had skills, Rhywallon, but brains I had not heard much about.’
He scowled at the man. ‘Imagine that smartness and skill into your service.’
The Roman laughed. ‘You hear that, girl? This is how easily a hired assassin wants to give up is loyalty to his own kin. Very well. What if I offered you this third option?’
Easily? Nothing was easy in this ordeal, not even breathing. Rhywallon swallowed. ‘Then I’d take it. If you let her go.’
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