Mariska
Defiant, Mariska glared at the ring of men about her. The cowards. They enjoyed her predicament, it made them feel powerful she could tell. She hated the rancid, unwashed lot of them. What manner of men would enjoy the sight of a woman in her position?
She winced at that turn of phrase. Her position was one of the problems. She lay naked, spread-eagled and bound on the stone altar. Her lush curves splayed before them like an offering for their sick pleasure. Why would they not enjoy it?
Their blatant lust permeated the air like a putrid homage to her acknowledged beauty. She wanted to scream, to rage against them but she could not, the fate she was to face was chilling, more so than the cold slab she lay upon, more than the cold air that cloaked her.
“I wish I could get a taste of those lush lips.” The man standing at the altar's base stated as he licked his thin lips.
A new kind of cold caught her in its grip. One that rose from the core of her being. This was the fate she had been hiding from since she had blossomed at the tender age of thirteen.
For most of her life, she had had to contend with people marvelling at her uncommon beauty, men especially. Even as a child, they had talked about what a beauty she would be with those lust-filled eyes. As if they could see what she would be and lusted after her.
Most disturbing though was the fact that he was not looking at her lips, he was, he was... She tried to close her legs but the chains bit into her ankles. Tears welled in her eyes, but she would not them fall. Would not give these animals the power they craved.
“I crave those tits myself,” another of the men whispered. “I want to squeeze them hard with my .... between their lush fullness.”
A scream caught in her throat at the unholy things they wished to do to her. Herind bloated out the unholy words they spoke. What men did to women to beget children and their pleasures was disturbing enough but the depraved things they were speaking of were unnatural.
They were treating her worse than if she were a whore, as if she were no more than a piece of meat. Not that she knew how men treated whores being a proper girl as she was.
“I want to pound that sweet ...” Another man chimed.
“...while I take that ... of hers.” Yet another finished for him.
Had she thought her fate terrible? The things these men wished her were more dire than even the death she was to face. How ironic that she now rejoiced at her upcoming death.
“I wish to teach the lass what her mouth was really made for.” The magistrate’s cold impersonal voice was the worst of all. He had long stated that she was too mouthy, too troublesome just because she would not meekly accept what was decreed.
He had wanted her, threatened her with this same fate if she did not give in to him and had gone so far as to try and rape her. He had learned something about her that day, something she had sworn never to reveal. She knew he was now afraid of her hence why he had pushed for this.
“But our sacrifice has to be pure.” He continued with a cold satisfied smile. Turning to the men about them his cold eyes became glacial. “So no touching our lovely morsel here unless you want to share her fate. I will not have our homes destroyed because someone couldn’t resist some common tart.” With the last part, he shot her a look full of disdain.
She held his gaze with pride pushing the fact that she was naked from her mind. As long as she never had to suffer his touch she would be glad, her death would after all be a matter of moments. Sure she was terrified to the core of her being but that was something she would take to her grave.
“Such a shame.” Another of the men murmured under his breath.
“She thought herself too good for us Hrother.” The magistrate stated with that smug smile of his. “You never would have had her.”
She blushed as she met Hrother’s gaze. He was one she would have accepted if he had but asked but he never had. He was young, a mere two years older than she, strong from working his father’s forge and stood tall like the gods of legends.
Yet unlike them, he was ill-favoured of face. Individually his features were quite fine, an aquiline nose, full lips that usually sported an enchanting smile and clear blue eyes reminiscent of a cool summer day. But they came together in a face that was the wrong side of plain.
What had drawn her to him was his kindness. He knew he was uncommonly strong and in everything he did he tempered it. She had seen him craft an iron flower with such delicate folds she had been hard-pressed to believe it of iron even as she had seen him craft it.
That had been during the days she had spent spying on him, her heart going to him piecemeal. That had ended when Magistrate Adolf had caught her watching the young man.
“I would have accepted you had you asked.” She told him and watched as a stricken look settled on his face. “He knew it and that I would rather die than have him...”
“You lying whore!” The magistrate raged, but she ignored him, keeping her gaze locked with the young man's. She was beyond the magistrate’s touch and had nothing to lose.
“...which is why he advocated this fate for me. He could not stand for you to have me instead of him.” She finished. “I watched you shape your swords, watched as you made strong boxes and even your garden of steel.” She whispered as she watched his eyes fill with tears.
Should she have been bold enough to approach him? It had seemed too forward to her, but as things had turned out her reticence was to be regretted. By now she might have been expecting their first child secure in the arms of a man she had seen being kind to even the poorest of the women in their village. A village where men were brutal even to their own.
“Mari,” he choked. Was it possible he had true feelings for her? If so she realised she had just hurt him more than she had intended to hurt the magistrate. There was no way to undo her fate and he had been the one to forge her chains.
What horror had she left the only noble man she had met in her village in her stupid need to retaliate? Adolf would soon have a riot on his hands. It was one thing to sentence a wayward maiden as he had but another to spite one who would have had another. Especially when she was as beautiful as Mari was.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized to Hrother as tears welled up in her eyes to stream down her temples.
The other men were silent, their ardour quenched as they shifted uncomfortably at the revelations. Crude as they were, the fact that she was beloved of one of their own cooled even their lusty thoughts.
“Mari...” Hrother moved as if to free her at the same time that the cry she had been dreading was heard.
A high-pitched basso, it was a challenge, a declaration of power that had the men turning and running away from the altar. He stayed to free her from the dreadful fate that was to be hers but she knew he would not save her in time. He would die as well and that would be a terrible end to what could have been. She would not allow it.
“Go!” She commanded even as her tears kept running.
“No!” He shouted back.
Mari knew there was little time to argue. She could see the monstrous nightmare descending on them over his shoulder. Soon it would pierce his body with its wicked sharp talons. She would watch him die before the dragon got to her, its sacrifice. It was forbidden for any male to release a sacrifice and his death would be guaranteed.
Holding all she was in focus she accessed the power of her blood, which her mother had admonished her never to show. But what was the point, she was dead already and she would be saving a life. The life of a man who could have been hers.
Maybe he could grow to love her younger sister and they could have a life together. One of that rare happiness. She pushed him away from her. The other men would find him ahead of them and never know he had stayed to help her.
And just in time. The dragon passed through where his body had been moments before its back paws bracketing her smaller body. One at her head and the other at her feet. It held her chains and looked at her as if to decide if she was worthy.
Rare as it was, she had heard of other women who had been found unworthy and been left by the first dragon that came to be carried off by a second. Then whatever village had supplied the girl would have some measure of hardship.
The sacrifices were tied to the productivity of the land, to the continuance of the magic that rested in Septgaard so only the best of the virgins were to be sacrificed. If the dragon that came for the kill found the female flawed then the magic in the five villages that made the magic sphere that was Septgaard would suffer, more so the one where the maiden hailed from.
Mari couldn’t decide if she wanted to be found worthy or not. On the one hand, she wanted the people who had forced her death to pay for it and yet her pride demanded she be found thus by these fearsome magical entities.
Her eyes met the multifaceted beauty that was the dragon’s. She had never expected to find beauty in the bringers of death but there it was. It was mesmerising, ethereal in such a powerful beast.
Something one did not see in a predator. Its scales were even more so, shimmering with magical power they graduated from a deep almost black purple to a pale almost white lilac.
She longed to touch them, caress them to feel if they were as hard as she had assumed or softer. It was painfully beautiful she wanted to cry. Looking at its eyes was like falling into depths of wonder she had never dreamed could exist.
She wanted to offer herself to it but she was already an offering. She wanted to stay forever caught in its eyes, such beautiful death. Was anything as sacred as this beautiful beast?
A part of her screamed at her insanity, clawed for a reaction other than the stupefied awe she was enthralled into. Death was upon her and instead of screaming her lungs out, she marvelled at her death’s beauty. Maybe unlike having your life flash before your death brought an instant of madness with it.
The beast rose holding her with a forepaw about her torso. Oh by the oath of Regin the Great, it was going to tear her limbs off. She was still chained! She screamed with all that she was but the beast flapped its massive wings and rose.
Panic suffocated her. She had been too dull and should have talked to the beast to let her go. Many said the monsters were intelligent surely an intelligent being would not want to harm another.
But it was now too late, she could feel her limbs straining, and soon they would torn from her body. And she would live long enough to bleed, long enough to know the excruciating pain.
She had no air to breathe. Her scream took out all she had in her body. She did not want to die, not this horrible death. Why would they seek innocent women to punish so? Was the livelihood of many worth the pain of the innocent? She could not bear it, could not be aware without losing her mind. Blessedly as if that thought was her cue she lost all senses to the black void.
***
