Taken Prisoner [Astride]

[Thereza de Soigneux]

Riding in the back of a wagon as a prisoner wasn't something I'd ever had to do before but, considering that it was easy enough to show my apprehension at the situation I used the time to sit quietly and think, watching the other women and collecting my thoughts. I couldn't escape until I had whatever information I could find, and for that I would have to search thoroughly if given the chance, listen closely the rest of the time and, most importantly, not get caught. To be discovered would be a sentence to torture and death and I had no inclination toward either of those things. If nothing else I had to deliver this information alive and well for validity's sake.

Finally everything drew to a stop and every prisoner, myself included, watched with wide eyes as we waited for whatever would happen next, seeming not to understand what was happening around us. I understood the shouted commands, the jokes and murmurs that went with their glances over us all, and I was glad of my steady nerves that left me able to hear all of it without blushing. Men would be men and make their silly claims of prowess and strength whether they intended to back them up behind closed doors and while some of them may have been capable of great cruelty history showed that most people were far more complacent than that.

Besides, the one who had taken me had claimed me as soon as he'd handed me over to the wagon, though I would have to pretend I hadn't understood that. Instead I simply sat frozen and watched what was happening through tired, glazed eyes as things continued unabated, waiting for someone to gesture toward me or give me an order in d'Angeline.

[Astride Schevlok]

All in all, we'd taken more casualties than I had expected, and that put me in a foul mood. Having received an arrow to my arm myself, I'd made for the healers, had it removed and stitched, and though it was thankfully my weaker limb, and I was able to ignore the stings of pains, it aggravated me further.

Ah, but I would need to take this out on someone, wouldn't I? And it had to be someone who could be played with as I wanted.

Fair and well.

I had a D'Angeline plaything of my own to claim, and so I would. I made for the corral where the captives were kept, and walked through their pack, looking for her.

Ah, maybe I'd leave her there and take another, if such was my fancy.

There was a pleasure in power – I was growing accustomed to it, and I had to remind myself: this was temporary, and in the name of Eirik. It grated a little. It would grate more in the future, I suspected.

[Thereza de Soigneux]

As I watched the man who had taken and claimed me came to where we were all gathered, some of those present seemingly trying to hide behind others while others simply waited in resignation. There was fear thick in the air, the sense of uncertainty darkening it and the sense of grim satisfaction from our captors deepening it as well. No one knew what was going to happen next but everyone had the same preconceptions in mine and I couldn't rightly say they were unjustified. The Skaldi weren't animals but they did have barbaric ways of their own and we were prisoners outside of their natural order- and free game.

Eyes still wide I let some of my natural apprehension show through for now as I stayed where I was, pinning him with my gaze and waiting to see what his reaction would be to all of this, lips pressed closed and an unbidden shudder moving through me. He was far larger and stronger than I was, and it would be my job to give into whatever whims came over him while somehow still keeping my mind about me enough to get the information that was needed and still making an escape without being killed. or going mad somehow.

First thing first though- I needed to get close to the leaders, and being claimed by one of them would make that far easier. With hesitant steps I moved closer to him, shivering slightly in the chilly air. "Please, when can I go home?" I asked in a quiet tone, a flush on my cheeks and my hands going to rub my arms.

[Astride Schevlok]

The D'Angeline wench – my slave, I told myself, and the thought made me smile thinly – came forward and uttered something in her filthy language, which I barely understood – home, heim that sounded a bit similar, and the context was enough to allow me to suppose what she meant.

Ah, I had to laugh – and it was not kind.

“Now,” I replied, though she might not understand me. “We're going home now.”

I grabbed her arm, hard enough to impress my position and strength, but not hard enough to bruise. That, perhaps, would be for later, and it would be in different circumstances. Her fear, though, was delicious, and I wanted more of it.

Intoxicating was the word.

“You are beautiful when you fear,” I said again. “I wonder how beautifully you scream.”

I didn't care whether she understood me or not. The words were for me more than they were for her.

With that, I started to march her back to the homestead – to my own private quarters.

[Thereza de Soigneux]

Of course I couldn't give away that I understood his language, so I simply ignored what the man before me said and relied on his body cues to tell me what he intended. The look in his eyes while he listened to me was proud somehow, and impassive, and completely cold, as though I was a pet or possession, not a person. It was horrifying, but I swallowed the instinct to fight free and escape that rose up sharply. I had to stay here and endure this- not because it was a test of strength or a badge of courage but because someone had to and I knew that I was more equipped for it than the other girls who could have been chosen.

All I did was look at the Skaldi man with a dawning sense of realization, letting him see my fear as he grabbed my arm and pulled me along without protest from my side. No, better not to fight now, not too hard anyway- playing at shock would cover my mind working, and as he led me toward a group of dwellings I could only guess what was to happen next. This time I had to call to mind what I was fighting for to stop myself from breaking away, but I managed to do nothing more than hesitate for a step and stumble as he continued pulling me. My heel caught the hem of my gown and I heard a small tear but that wasn't my focus at the moment. "No, I don't want to go there," I said in a surprised tone as I stumbled again.

[Astride Schevlok]

She looked truly fearful, but she resisted all the same, and the sound of torn cloth made me suddenly desire to see her in a gown ripped to shreds. Ah, her forms would be advantaged by it, just as tears and screams would look good on her – I would break her, I decided, and my grip on her arm became firmer, enough to bruise.

I didn't need to understand what she was saying to make out her words, not with her response.

“Oh,” I hissed, into her face, “you will come, D'Angeline.” I reached for her hair, then, and pulled sharply at it, wrapping loose strandes of blond hair around my fist, as one would a rope.

“Or do you want more of this?”

[Thereza de Soigneux]

A small gasp escaped my lips as his grip tightened on my arm, which luckily was very much in character. It took far more will not to pull away than I would have expected in the beginning, but the reminder of how injury could prevent me from my mission helped somewhat. Playing at submission was not part of who I was; if I acted as though I respected someone and followed their orders it was because I truly trusted their judgement and nature. This man- there was nothing trustworthy about him, save that he would be brutal and chaotic. There was an irony in that, trying to find stability by predicting chaos.

Then his hand was in my hair and I whimpered slightly, arching my back and neck to try and diminish the pain as little as possible. It was nothing compared to a stab wound or a rib cracking but there was still some pain in it, luckily enough that it helped me keep my wits simply to avoid further indignity. If he found out now that I understood his tongue he'd be even more angry, or so I would have predicted. Other d'Angelines would have seen him as a monster, especially a kidnapped and frightened whore, so that was what I would do.

"Stop, ow!" I protested as I nevertheless moved where he wanted, a tingle of adrenaline speeding my pulse somewhat. "Don't hurt me!"

[Astride Schevlok]

Through whatever protests the whore made, I took her to my hut. Ah, but I'd put her to use, whatever way I saw fit – to clean and scrub, to warm my bed if I saw so fit, to feed the horses since that other Caerdicci bitch had fled.

To vent my anger, too, when I wanted to. She would be what I wanted her to be, and having a scapegoat on which to empty myself, I would be able to keep all the necessary appearances in the meantime.

_{[OOC: And as agreed, end scene.]}