Saturday, December 21, 2013

Dagger to her Lips

1031, Winter

Eirian liked to watch the sky from her cell. She had been trapped in a tower for several weeks before she’d had the courage to look through the barred windows. Everywhere she looked she only saw grey and black, dirty rotten cloths and hay strewn around the cell. There was no colour left in the world, she feared, she wondered if the colours she remembered were even there to begin with. Twice a day a woman with mischievous blue eyes would bring her bread and water, sometimes soup. She never said a word to Eirian, but often she would stand and stare with a crooked little smile as Eirian fought the urge to dive at the food supplied. Eirian would sit there, stubbornly waiting for the woman to leave, holding on to some sense of dignity, a reserve of self respect. Twice a day, she cradled those small interactions close to her heart, holding on for a sense of humanity.
It seemed though, the woman had other business. As once again, for the second day, Eirian lay curled up enduring the pains her stomach gave her. She felt she could not remember the last time she’d eaten. All the days and nights she’d spend alone in her cell were a blur, every sight and sound merging into one great nightmare that would not end. Previously she’d tried to keep track of the time passing, relying on the woman’s visits to her, but it hadn’t taken long for the needs of her body to overcome the will of her mind. 

Eirian stirred, hearing the faint sound of a metal door clanging in the distance, followed by the soft echoes of delicate footsteps. She lifted herself up with slow and concentrated effort, a thudding in her skull reminded her she was dehydrated. A figure appeared in view at the entrance of her cell, where the barred door sat dutifully locked and unmoveable. Her vision was slightly blurred, but Eirian could make out two figures standing there – one which she recognised as the woman who’d been bringing her food. The other was a beautiful stranger, someone that she might have known in her life before this, someone that had most definitely known her as a princess. Sand coloured curls and lovely, pouting red lips. Fair skin unblemished or bruised, without a stain of red or any other ill to her complexion, the woman was an unforgettable image. 

Eirian leant her tired and aching body against the bench she sat upon, waiting as the two women unlocked her cell and entered. She looked up at them with numbness, a cold empty stare that had once captured the hearts of nobles and commoners alike.
“Eirian,” the beautiful one said. “I’m so sorry to do this to you, I really am.” Eirian could not speak, she’d tried once or twice before – but her throat was unable to produce any sound beyond hoarse groaning. She watched the woman smile, “I want you to know that your friend is safe. Owen, is it? He was slightly scarred from the fire but after many treatments, he’s improving.” She spoke as though she was proud of herself, “I would like you to know that I have offered him a place in my household, and he has accepted. Now I am here to offer you, a similar position.”

Eirian wished she could spit on this woman, she wished she had the strength to throw herself at the beautiful woman without mercy, putting to use all the skills earned from wrestling with her half-siblings. But there was a part of her that had no more energy to care, it was dull and aching and painful. Nothing seemed good anymore, nothing seemed pleasant. This woman offered her a release, maybe? Eirian slowly moved her lips, a whistle of air expelling into the dreary cell.

“While we’ve been somewhat negligent at treating your ailments,” the woman commented. “That is something I aim to correct as soon as you agree to my terms.” She took a step toward where Eirian lay, producing a silver dagger from her sleeve. “Give me your hand, Eirian, this is the first of many trials you will face before I can trust you.”
Eirian stared at the shining blade, she did not see a threat – but instead, she saw an escape. With a groan of effort, Eirian raised her hand like the woman had told her. 

The woman knelt before her, and pressed the dagger to her lips before taking Eirian’s hand and slicing into the frail flesh. The pain shot through her like ice water, and Eirian felt her body shudder without her consent. There was a quiet moment when no one spoke, but the cell seemed a little less gloomy.
With a bright smile, the woman stood up straight, hiding away the bloody blade. “Good, Eirian. Very good, now wouldn’t you like to get out of this sad little cell?” She spoke cheerfully, as if it were a casual greeting. “My name is Kryssa Kovar, or Lady Kovar if you like. You are going to serve me for as long as you live, and you will do it willingly without question, understood?”
The shudders of Eirian’s body quickly adapted into ferocious trembling, but a ripple of pleasure overcame her, and Eirian found her mouth was soon flooded with moisture – her aches suddenly fading, and a smile forming on her face.



    Work is very busy due to Christmas and so I was working weekends, but now I have this coming week off so I'll be catching up! Happy reading :)

  2. Oy. What is Kryssa up to? Whatever it is, I'm glad Eirian managed to get away; hopefully Kacye isn't loyal enough to Kryssa to alert her to Eirian's location.

    That said... with all those years of service, Eirian probably knows more about what Kryssa's up to than Kryssa would prefer to be common knowledge. Unless there's some sort of blood magic preventing her, Eirian could tell Janoah all about it if Kryssa shows up with the intent to take her back, and I doubt Janoh would have any trouble believing such things of Kryssa. Though if she does end up telling, I'm hoping she can go under the Drakis' protection without the king's notice. Having to deal with Conri's shit would be the last thing Eirian needs right now.

    I'm glad that Owen survived the fire! Hopefully he'll get himself free of Kryssa's service as well eventually.