The Spoils of war (Dogged and Vmpdevil101)

In Scotland times were getting better and the wars were being won although be it not in Liz McFay’s favor but still the wars were coming to an end and people were starting to settle down. Liz McFay’s only problem with the ending of the war within Scotland was that her side had lost and she was now a prize for the winner. Liz didn’t like that she would have to bow down to any man let alone someone who killed her friends. Liz McFay was a fair skinned dark haired beauty which made it very clear why she was taken as a prize. How they found her well that was easy, Liz McFay was an Archer for her kingdom and one of the best. Liz had everything going for her, wealth, beauty, friends, and a family she could rely on, that is until her side had lost.

Liz was officially a ‘prize’ for the winner. She couldn’t believe she was being taken from her friends and family to some unknown place to become someone’s slave. Liz had traveled from her land with a hand full of other women taken as ‘prizes’ as well. They were each bound at the wrist and made to walk most of the journey back to their new home. Liz was different from the other females she was a warrior, cunning, agile, and a sharp tongue to boot.

Liz still had on her shredded brown top that was held in place by belt straps going just above her breast and a few inches below them. Her brown shirt was shredded at the bottom to make it so it was easier for her to move around when she was fighting. She had no shoes on for it was much easier for her to move across the grounds without tripping over herself. Her long bow and arrow filled quiver had been taken from her when they had captured her. Liz also had one rather large difference between her and the other women in the group, the large white Celtic tattoo that went across her forehead signifying that she was a warrior, and that she still had blood covering her arms, hands, and some of her legs.

Liz was going to meet the man or women whoever it was that took her as a prize soon enough and when she meet that person she was going to kill them and run like hell.

Rathe Ramsey frowned at his father and glared at him as they stood nearly nose to nose.

"Ya WILL marry a lass o' Clan McFay and end this bloody war like a damned obedient son and that's the end of it!" Argued the senior Laird Ramsey to his first born son.

"I will NAE marry a horse faced, idiot cow brained McFay! Their women are as ugly and mindless as a herd of Ayrshire cattle! How can me marrying some feeble minded lass bring our Clans together? Her poor breeding will bring down Clan Ramsey for sure." Rathe argued boldly. Much like his father, the younger Laird Ramsey refused to back down on someone daring to give -him- an order.

"Inferior or no' son, t'is politics it is and must be done. You have one week ta seal the deal and consummate the marriage. For the sake of peace in our lands without Clan McFay suing us for everything we own, we MUST do this, ye ken." His tone was sympathetic, but nonetheless firm in his orders.

"Now go fetch your new bride, bring your brothers for theirs and for Gods sake, bring them back in one piece! I dunna want a repeat of what happened ta the Clan Macullough lass! Go!" His brogue resounded loudly through the castle, making it clear that he would brook not a single word more of argument.

What could Rathe answer but, "Yes, M'Lord." Clearly furious at his plight, he gestured to his brothers, commanded both dogs to his side and stalked angrily out the door and over the moat.

He was unashamedly Scottish so fighting, brawling and arguing were his way of life. His father was the only man alive that could yell at him with no retaliation. His flash fire temper was notorious and he'd killed more than his fair share of people. Maybe if his mother had survived giving birth to him, he might have had a gentler influence in his life. But it was not to be so, and he lived his life mostly as he pleased--until now.

Angus and Grier held a spot on each side of the tall Scotsman. Both dogs were Scottish Deerhounds and among the tallest breed in the world. Standing on the gentle fellside amongst his brothers, they saw a small band of women led by a half dozen guards that were his father's best fighting men. Out of the group, a fair skinned, raven haired goddess stood out from the rest like a single red rose in a field of weeds. The white tattoo drew all of their eyes and his brothers all took a step back at the implication. They'd rather have a docile, obedient female that would promptly do as she's told.

While his brothers called out the smallest and gentlest of the approaching Clan McFay, Rathe's black eyes locked onto the ebony haired lass with the white warrior tattoo. Not to mention her very tiny, mid-riff bared torso showing through a flimsy excuse for a chemise. He raised one eyebrow as he called out to his brothers,

"I claim the black haired lass with the gall ta wear a MAN's tattoo. I'll have fun breaking her in."

Liz had followed these guards willingly knowing a few of her friends had been taken with the men. Her eyes darted over to one of her friends as they grew closer to her new home. Liz didn’t like the thought of having to live out her life as some man’s slave but it wouldn’t last long she’d escape sooner or later. Liz nodded towards her friend and she motioned something to the rest of the girls with them. Liz was going to set up the escape for her friends and some of the other girls even if it meant that she’d be punished later she wanted them to be back home and safe.

They were still far away from the kingdom and this was Liz’s chance to get her sisters and a couple of her friends out of her. “Make sure you get the girls home.” She whispered to her best friend and she nodded and they moved. Liz quickly kicked one of the guards in the face knocking him out quickly. Liz had great strength in her legs but not so much in her arms. “Now girls!” Liz screamed and the girls scrambled.
Liz flipped backwards like an agile cat letting a guard cut her restraints in half giving her true freedom to move. She smiled kicking one of the men’s legs out from under him so he fell onto his back. She moved over him with his sword and slit his throat quickly. Her movements were quick as she went on to the next guard. It was a great battle even though small she had managed to kill three of the guards only leaving six to take her and four other girls to their destination.

It didn’t take much for them to subdue Liz after all she had gotten her sisters free, and that was all she really wanted. She was quickly tied up and she had all the guards eyes on her to make sure she didn’t do anything to hurt them again and let more of the girls escape. She grinned widely with pride that she had foiled her enemies plan.

It didn’t take much longer after her attack to reach their destination. Liz frowned the second she saw the three men. “The prionsa tar ag súgradh!” she spoke in Gaelic with a smile teasing them. The girls stood behind her as her eyes went to both of the large dogs. Sure the men that stayed at a distance seemed rather good looking but the one in the middle seemed arrogant and something just made Liz feel like she wanted to scratch his eyes out.

Liz looked at the other girls sure they were part of the McFay family distant but still family. Liz was the only true McFay in the bunch which made her proud as she kept her head held high. Liz watched the three men as they looked around at the girls and they seemed to pick out which women they seemed to want. Liz felt a chill run down her back as she noticed the one in the middle watching her like a hawk watches it’s pray before attacking. Liz flinched as she heard him call dibs on her. Liz didn’t like the idea of being anyone’s prize and she’d make him regret taking her.

A sudden scuffle erupted from the band of women and it looked like the fair one started an attempt at fighting to distract the guards. Rathe was torn in two between admiring the young chit's gall and irritation that somehow his father's top fighters didn't take off after the runaway, tied up girls.

Promptly, he gestured to Angus and Grier, giving a piercing whistle to steer them toward the women trying to run off. Their hands were still tied together and to each other, so getting far away or fast really wasn't an option. The fast and enormous pair of dogs easily caught up with the three girls and herded them into a circle. Rathe blasted 2 short sharp whistles and Angus took the lead rope while Grier followed closely behind the third girl. Neatly managed, Grier nipped at the girls' heels if they started to lag. Rathe jerked his head back toward the clan and the dogs firmly led the stragglers back to the group of girls. The tall Laird allowed himself a small smile at the thin slip of a lass kicking a six foot tall man's face.

His dark glance passed over his father's guards and he glared at them with scornful disapproval.

"If you're done flirting and playing with the wee lasses now, you can bring them over here. Apparently my dogs need to help six grown men bring in a few tiny women folk that have their wee hands tied. If that's too much of a challenge for ye, ye might wan' ta consider taking up knitting for a living!"

Rathe gestured to his dogs to single out the raven haired beauty and escort her to him.

When the group finally approached closely enough to not have to yell to be heard, Rathe stood still as a mountain and took a long measuring look at them. He stared down at the lass with a commanding air and asked, "Gabh mo leisgeul! An abair sin a-rithist sibh, ma's e bhur toil e?" challenging her in a regal tone as Laird Rathe of Clan Ramsey. He could nae ken that a wee slip of girl could possibly challenge men of their muscle and sheer size without instant retribution.

Liz looked over seeing the two large dogs herding her family back into the circle of girls. Liz grumbled she didn’t like how obedient the dogs were to these man. Liz looked over at the annoying man as he spoke. She didn’t like how he implied that she was being categorized in the same group as the other girls when she was a warrior herself. Liz looked down at herself as he called them tiny women. Liz wasn’t tiny or at least she didn’t think she was so he was obviously not talking about her. Liz smiled at the part of the men taking up knitting for a living thinking it’s be amazingly funny to see a group of men knitting in a circle. She chuckled loudly to herself covering her mouth to try and hide her amusement.

Liz looked up seeing the man that had the voice for everyone that stood before them. He motioned something and she looked around to see who he was gesturing to. Her feet planted into the ground to make sure the dogs couldn’t make her move without some sort of force and she wasn’t’ afraid of being bit she learned how to deal with pain. She finally gave in and moved with the rest of the girls staying close to them.

Liz raised an eyebrow as the man stood there like a razor sharp cliff that stood in the way. He seemed to want to put off the air of superiority and to tell the truth he did it very well. Liz could tell he was measuring up every girl even herself and she felt a sting of anger hit her. She didn’t want him to judge her by just her look.

Liz looked at him with a grin as he spoke in Gaelic it sounded very noble when it slipped past his lips. It wasn’t like she didn’t expect him to know Gaelic after all almost everyone from here knew Gaelic. She crossed her arms over her chest she didn’t like that challenging tone he had laced within his voice as he spoke in Gaelic. Liz turned her head away from him to show him she didn’t fear him nor did she care who he was because she was better than him. “Foc il leat pol thoin!” she smirked at the thing she called him even if it was such crude words.

Rathe was pretty good at analyzing people and he could judge their character best by how they reacted to animals and servants. If they were cruel or cold to what was considered lesser creatures, then they were self-centered with no room for true affection. He sighed deeply as yet another one failed the subtle testing of interaction.

He'd seen many reactions to his large pair of Deerhounds, predominantly among them was fear. His grandmother had gifted him with the pups just before she died and they were his only soft, weak spot of compassion that he allowed himself. She'd taught him that humans will act towards dogs the way they think of people when they think they're unobserved. Dogs help to reveal a person's true nature behind the masks we wear. Rathe had taken her message to heart and found her advice solid. He'd seen that animal cruelty and madness were a undeniable link.

There was something cold in her gaze that made Rathe stare at her hard for a very long moment. He searched her face for any signs of femininity or an emotion other than rebelliousness and anger; he found nothing else. On instinct, he signaled the large dogs away from her and back to his side as rapidly as possible. He knew the dogs weighed more than she did and would easily kill her on command. He would nae have them savaging her if she struck out at them.

To be honest, he'd expected anger, but for anger to be the masking of rightful fear at having an unfair and uncertain future thrust upon yourself. Instead there was a mask of ugly crudities defiling the flowing Gaelic language and he was sorely pissed at being saddled with what acted like a guttersnipe instead of a grown lass. She had actually smirked as she bespoke language that was common only among the very raunchiest of his soldiers. It was like hearing a butterfly fart the national anthem, 'Flower of Scotland.'

" 'Fuck off asshole' is the best you can manage in the ancient and lovely Gaelic? Well even the most beautiful of girls are ugly when they use a foul tongue to speak the most graceful of languages." Rathe snorted in disgust at her behavior and looked both furious and resigned at the same time.

'How could I do that again?' He thought to himself. 'Why is it that the one that seems the loveliest and most attractive in looks is the opposite in nature?' He'd get caught up in a woman's beautiful face and irresistible body, but the moment she spoke, the impression was slaughtered like a lamb at spring solstice. In his mind, there was nothing wrong with a woman shouting a few swears to show her spirit. Hell, he admired a strong spirited woman. But a crude, rebellious female with not an ounce of any feeling other than defiance was just not womanly to him.

His father demanded he had only a week to marry someone of the Mcfay clan and he had indeed called dibs on this one. Her blue black hair was as glossy as a raven's wing and her alabaster skin was like the finest, most delicate of porcelain complexions. She was a fair height for a lass, and he preferred the taller ones. Two last provoking thoughts entered his mind and refused to leave. 'Does she think that she would nae be taken seriously if she stopped acting like a man? Was this only a fear display or does she always act and talk like this?'

"What is your name and dunna answer in the Gaelic with more curses. You shame your clan name with this wanton behavior. None of us really have a choice in this fate so suck it up McFay. There's a difference between guttersnipe and spirit and ye have crossed it long ago." Rathe's voice was so low pitched in anger that it was nearly a growl and he frowned down at her so hard, his eyebrows nearly met. (NOTE: her previous post is edited from her original line of kicking dogs in the face)

Liz flinched in her spot as she felt his gaze on her and she looked up at him with a cold stare that would have fit her if she were really a cold hearted person in real life. She didn’t want him to see anything soft and womanly but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide everything.
Liz watched as both of the large dogs quickly retreated to his call and Liz’s eyes softened as she hugged her sister tightly showing some sort of tenderness to her sister as well as the rest of the females. She turned her attention back to the dogs that stood next to their master and her eyes narrowed taking in the man who controlled them.

He seemed strong and probably would most likely have some rather harsh words for Liz that would cut her down to size for the first time in her life. She took a deep breath as he snorted at her in disgust with the way she had spoken in Gaelic. Liz stared at him for a few minutes un-moved and then she lowered her head turning it away slightly.

Liz couldn’t believe it this man had been the first and hopefully the last to make her feel shameful. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to rid herself of that horrible feeling that swept her insides. Liz keep her head slightly lowered like her sisters for the first time she was actually acting like a female of her clan and not a male.

Liz knew she wasn’t around her home with the men that looked up to her so she really didn’t need to keep up the act of being strong but she felt naked without it and venerable, but she’d eventually have to get over that. Liz was no longer a warrior but a prisoner of war.
Liz’s head shot up quickly when he told her he wanted to know her name. She opened her mouth then closed it quickly she bit down on her lip lightly and said in an almost whisper “Liz sir.” She wrapped her right hand around her left wrist holding it in front of her almost like she was trying to hide behind it.

Liz hated how this man could make her feel so naked and vulnerable with just words that weren’t too harsh but enough to make her rethink what she would say. Liz looked at him her head still slightly lowered as she looked at him through her lashes trying to keep her eyes hidden as she watched him. “Forgive me for my rudeness.” She said just loud enough for him to hear her. The words seemed to burn her throat as she spoke but none the less the words slipped past her lips with ease.

Laird Rathe watched the lass closely, noting her abrupt and unusual changes of posture. She'd been a pushy leader to the girls around her, rudely insulting to his men like they were her lessers and acted coldly removed from the dogs' behavior and presence. Rathe didn't like her attitude toward his men, nor Angus, Grier and himself.

This McFay gave an impression of an icy, self centered demeanor in which she expected those around her to worship or take her rudely insulting leadership. Then he speaks to the chit and she suddenly postures flamboyantly to give a false impression. It confused him for a moment and his cold hard eyes gleamed as he scrutinized her.

She didn't seem to want to rebel against the arranged marriage, but rather, be the aggressor to all she met. She hadn't said a single word or exchange of comfort to the family around her, so she wasn't scared for herself, nor did she feel the need to console anyone. Her posture had changed to an overtly submissive and trite stance to which Rathe found irritating as all hell. She hugged a nearby female tightly, but no words were exchanged, and there were no emotional cues as to any comfort given or received. No names between them or words were heard, nor did the girl's expression change one iota from the cursing bitch she was a few moments ago.

If the lass was in a position of authority or a leader of her fellow women, they would have looked to her for guidance before his men or himself had spoken, but there was no indicator of such belief. Anyone could bear a tattoo, but to have earned it was another thing entirely. Laird Rathe was nae marked in his Lairdship, but his men, his dogs and his family looked to him for guidance automatically.

There were no signs of demeanor, control, confidence or charisma to indicate that the lass was a leader, other than a tattoo.

The slender defiant female tried to stare him down, apparently unmoved and this confirmed that she was no leader, despite the skin defilement. When he himself had the unfortunate luck to be captured once or twice, his first concern was for his kin, his men, his family, his dogs and then himself. She gave no sign of compassion or caring for the crowd of females with her. There were no questions of their safety or inquiries about how those she supposedly led were going to be treated. How cold was this girl to not ask immediately if her comrades would be safe? If her blood kin would be treated fairly? Leadership was a position earned by putting the compassion and needs of others before oneself. Maybe the McFay clan had different standards of true leadership qualities.

Putting her head down and averting her eyes were mere displays of submission. It couldn't have been great comfort to her clan, family and village that she merely bowed her head in a falsely demure manner. Her tone was resentfully acquiescent, which made his jaw clench at the fake horse shit going on.

When she moved to hug herself, he worked to hide his surprise. She'd shown no concern for her family, nor any direction for them, but when scolded, she needed to comfort her self.

When Rathe merely asked something as mundane as her name, apparently he got a first genuine reaction after he'd scolded her. Was it really that big of an issue to ask her name? He could only assume it was a rebellious reaction purely out of habit rather than any actual meaning.

His ebony eyes noted that she grasped her own wrist as she spoke with a civil tongue for the first time. It sounded foreign on her as compared to the volley of filth she'd spouted only a few short moments before.

"Not sir. You will call me M'Lord, Miss McFay." He answered, his temper barely in check. When she had the gall to give him an apology without looking him in the eye, he knew she was lying outright. She could nae make eye contact while saying sorry which made her words and their sentiment untrue.

She'd lied to his face and his men also noted that a woman that did nae look ye in the eye during an apology was naught but a liar.

"Dunnae treat me like a fool with your fake sorry McFay. Have ye nae shame in your crude ways and crooked tongue? The only explanation I can find for your absurd behavior and speech is that ye are but a wee bairn and I mistook ye for a grown lass."

He roughly took the rope that bound her hands and held it up to the group.

"Clan McFay does nae have a discernible or effective leader so I'll let ye ask questions if I have nae answered them. Firstly, welcome to Clan Ramsey. This half of these fine men," he gestured to his left, "are my brothers and soon to be your suitors. We here are all expected to marry in the name of peace and as such, we must all comply with the orders of both the Lairds Ramsey and McFay. I'm as reluctant as the rest of ye, male and female, make no mistake. You will be treated with courtesy, fed, bathed dressed in the manner to which ye are accustomed, given escort access around the castle and the stables, and anything within reason and scope to woo your fair sex. I assure ye, we are nae the enemy. My brothers will call out the choices they've made so far on sight and then we'll go from there. I've chosen Elizabeth McFay as my betrothed. We all have exactly a seven day to woo each other and be married to keep the contract of peace between our lands. Let us nae shame our fathers and kin with senseless rebelliousness and disobedience to our families." His last sentence was clearly directed at the lass at his side as his gaze seared furiously into Liz.

"As my men know what 'tis all about, I open the discussion to the ladies of clan McFay to make their questions known."