Heathen

The screaming had finally stopped. Elena cowered in the corner, knowing that meant the last guards, and maybe the servants too, had been murdered. She swallowed, hoping that the raiders didn't come here. Didn't break down her door. Didn't kill her.

Or worse.

Her hope was unfounded.

The door to her quarters, which had been closed, locked, and barred, practically exploded into shards of wood as a large, blood streaked sword smashed through.

She screamed, and looked around for something, anything, to defend herself. Her eyes found her vanity mirror, a gift from the Duke of Odingrough.

She slammed her fist into it, shattering the expensive, handcrafted, one of a kind heirloom, and grabbed a shard as the rest of the door broke down and the raider stepped into the room. Though, raider is probably not a nearly intimidating enough.

This man was a barbarian. A strong, giant man who looked like he'd reached the max of what a human can even qualify as. Layered with muscles and scars, dark skinned, and covered in blood. Elena held the glass shard so tight she felt it slice open her palm like a fruit, but the adrenaline pounding through her veins nulled the pain completely.

She held the shard out at arms length, blood dripping down her wrist and splattering on the ground as she said in a shaky, terrified voice.

"Don't come closer..."

The man looks down to the shard, and back to her face, lifting the giant sword up to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head, and narrowing his eyes slightly, he asks in perfect Inlander,

"Are you Princess Elena, of Absudil?"

She swallowed again, voice suddenly gone completely. She can feel the hand holding the glass shaking, and she knows he can see it too.

"P-Please don't hurt me."

He takes a step forward and takes the sword off his shoulder with an almost regretful sigh.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

She shakes her head while her eyes stay glued on that sword, that awful sword. How many guards has that sword alone killed? How many of her own knights?

"Why?! Why do I need to die?! I've never done anything to you!"

He stops, still a ways from her. His voice is smoldering with anger when he replies, taking another step.

"Your parents ordered the expansion into the Outland territories. The king of Absudil, your father, ordered the murder and destruction of dozens of our tribes and settlements."

"So you kill innocent soldiers and servants? You're no better!"

His face grows hard as he takes one more step, hand tightening around the sword.

"I never claimed to be."

She drops the glass shard, her hands are shaking too much for her to hold it much longer. She presses her back against the cold stone wall behind her, her heart pounding in her chest as she pleads, tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

"Please. Please."

His other hand clenches into a fist, and he finally averts his gaze from hers. His face twists into a pained, frustrated expression, and his voice reflects that same hesitation.

"I don't want to. I have no other choice.

I know you had no say in your parents plots. I'd rather not kill innocents, but I can't allow you to live."

She sees his reluctance, his indecision, and seizes it.

"Then don't. Let me go. I'll never come back here, I'll abandon my throne, I'll just live out my days as a pe-"

He cuts her off and turns back to look her in the eyes, body language reluctant.

"I can't trust that."

She swallows tightly, tears flowing hard now. She's never been this terrified before, ever. The worst she's ever had to deal with is the occasional passing spider or rat in her bedroom. This was someone completely willing to kill her, here and now. Someone who had ripped through the castle's defenses, all the guards, watchtowers, everything. She pleads again, her voice cracking.

"There has to be some way."

He stays silent, eyes not meeting hers for a long time. Eventually they do flick to her face, and he does speak, reluctantly.

"We keep prisoners, but we sacrifice them later. There is a way to ensure you keep your life, but..."

Elena's eyes widen, and she wants to speak but her throat is closed off. She can imagine what he's going to say, a fate almost as horrible as a brutal death here, and now. A slave.

"You'd need to become my wife."

She swallows back a sob. He looks away, and continues.

"I know. I'd rather not put you in this position, believe me. But it's your only option."

She thinks she's about to hyperventilate, as if she wasn't already before. She does manage to speak, though. Eventually. In a terrified, shaky voice.

"W-would you... what... what would it mean if I accepted?"

The barbarian tightens and loosens his jaw, and with a sigh he kneels down, still a few paces away.

"I'm not going to force myself on you, if that's what you're asking. I'm a man, not a beast.

As for what that means for you, you'd clean and cook. It's not ideal, but..."

She blinks. She's surprised. She'd honestly expected he'd just turn her into a breeding cow, which honestly she'd prefer death if that was the case. This doesn't seem nearly as bad.

She can see in his eyes, and hear in the soft tone of his voice, that he means what he's saying.

Or maybe he's just a really good liar.

She takes a few breaths, and asks quietly, still cowering away from him.

"D-do I have your word you won't touch me? I mean in a-any way..."

His brows creased, and he says in the most comforting voice he can muster, like she's a scared animal.

Which she is, she supposes.

"Of course. You have my word, no harm will come of you."

He's the last person to trust, she thinks. He murdered her parents, and was fully prepared to kill her as well. But something about his voice... it put her at ease. Plus... She'd overheard about the expansion plans in one of the many conversations her parents had that she was to have no part in during dinner last week. As far as she could tell, he hadn't lied to her.

He watches her, and says quietly

"I understand this is a hard decision, and I would like to give you more time to decide, but I can't. Choose."

Her eyes widen, and she feels her throat start to close again, but she forces her breathing to slow. Taking a deep breath, she nods slightly.

"I'll go with you."

}#—#—#—#—#{

She followed him as he walked down the castle steps to the main hall. Elena tightly shut her eyes as they passed by the bodies, but the slippery feeling under her feet from the blood still made her stomach turn. And when she accidentally stepped in a piece of one of the guards, she nearly was sick.

Her grip on the barbarian's arm was the only thing she wanted to focus on. She blindly followed him until she felt sun on her face, and when the smooth marble of the palace floors became the rough cobblestone of the main courtyard. She opened her eyes and almost instantly regret it.

A group of men and woman, at least three dozen, all tall, muscular, tan... the other barbarians. None as menacing as her escort, but all as dangerous looking. One stepped forward, and asks while his dark brown eyes look to Elena, looking mildly confused.

"Malïk, what is this?"

His Inlander isn't as fluent as her barbarian's (who she guesses is Malïk), but still very good.

Malïk glances down at her as she looks up at him. Somehow she feels at ease from the way he looks at her. She hides behind him, like a shy child, as he replies evenly.

"I didn't want to kill the princess. She had no part in her parent's plans. It would be wrong to punish her for her parent's plans."

"Just as wrong as killing our people?"

She feels him tense slightly, and his voice has a slight edge when he replies.

"We didn't kill any servants did we? No. Let it go. She'll be staying with me, I will make sure she isn't a danger to us."

The other barbarians nostrils flare, but he backs down, nodding slightly and stepping away.

Elena shrinks behind Malïk more, feeling suddenly very self conscious as now all the other barbarians eyes are on her.

She feels a reassuring hand on her shoulder and glances up to see Malïk looking down at her. Her stomach clenches at that look.

"You'll be all right. Daruk is just worried."

She nods dumbly, tongue feeling thick in her mouth. Malïk looks away and clicks his tongue, and instantly a huge buckskin mare trots over. She sees the other barbarians calling over their own horses, and mounting up. Suddenly, she's lifted straight off her feet and onto the beast with a yelp.

Malïk swings over onto the saddle after she's secure, and with another click of his tongue, the mare takes off. She hates the way she likes how strong his hands were on her waist, and how she flushes slightly when she feels him at her back, broad and hard.

Elena looks over her shoulder at the castle as they gallop off, trying to distract herself. She does, staring as it gets smaller and smaller, her life shrinking before it falls below the horizon.