Peace Offering (DeviantDesite x Deviant Desires) (yes, really)

For as awful as the day felt to young Ilyana De'vren, she had to admit the weather was lovely and made the forest they rode through seem almost picturesque. Even the barbarian campsite looked quite the sight, as it appeared a short distance away once they rounded some trees. They had taken a clearing in the woods and expanded it, hacking down trees to make room for their many temporary dwellings; tents of animal hide and cloth and leather. In the center was one that dominated the whole makeshift village, and Ana couldn't help but imagine that was the one that belonged to this chief she was being sent off to.

The tent and her would soon have something in common, than, she thought with a very bleak sort of amusement.

She realized that most of her people who had seen this place before had either died or turned about and fled soon after, with the foreign warriors outmatching her father's hosts. Those who had not suffered either of these fates, of course, were even less lucky, as these savages thrived off of taking and selling slaves. Even now, as her and the knight who escorted her drew closer, she could see men with fairer skin than their captors, wearing nothing but loinclothes and leather collars about their necks. Ana knew there were women, too, that were taken from the villages that were sacked, but none of them were out in the open, it seemed. All of the barbarians turned to give the new arrivals curious stares, but were not outwardly hostile, apparently warned of what was happening today.

"Be strong, my lady," Sir Aryn told her as they drew near, the barbarian men grinning as they openly leered over her body. She felt foolish for having been dressed for some luxurious wedding, when everyone here wore rags or leathers or little bits of cloth. By contrast, she wore a red silk gown that clung to her chest and legs, making her ride side-saddle atop her white horse. Little bits of gold embroidery wove their way across her, and though the garment was demurely cut, it showed off her small and pert breasts nicely, and clung to every curve of her hips, ample for her thin little body. Her golden hair wasn't quite brilliant enough to match the jewelry her ears and fingers had been adorned with, but came rather close. Her blue eyes did seem to match the sapphire one of her rings had been set with, however.

The pair of riders stopped just at the edge of camp, a small congregation of foreigners already there to meet them. The knight spoke, "I bring what was promised from his grace King Jacar De'vren," he gestured aside to Ana, and the added attention from these savages on her made her want to crawl into a hole, "His only daughter, as a token of good will between us," Even though Sir Aryn had given her kind and reassuring words, she as still just a 'token' to him, just as she had been to her father.

"What have I done for the Gods to decide I deserve this?" Ana wondered to herself as she waited.

The tribe that greeted the princess were rough but not unkempt. Their tanned skins were adorned with leather straps and skins, no doubt made from what animals they had hunted recently. The men appeared stoic and brave, the women just as toned and serious. Neither of them appeared particularly friendly as the princess was presented to them. However, as she approached, they parted, forming a procession of sorts to the tent that lay at the back of the encampment which seemed taller and more proud than the rest. One of the biggest of the tribesmen, a broad, muscular man with many marks of honour down his arm looked to the knight escorting her.

"The princess is welcome," he said in a gruff tone, "she will be treated with respect as one of her status should be. You can tell King De'vren that the people of the Murtak tribe will remain in his service. So says Headman Curzon!"

With that, he turned away, his words clearly more than he ever said normally. In his place stood a woman with curly dark hair and a smaller stature man who held his spear proudly. Both of them had the same rough leather skirts of their tribe but the man was bare chested while the woman had a grass like wrap around her torso. They bore several red markings on their skin, clearly an indication of their stature within the tribe. The woman had less than the man but the other tribesmen seemed to be in awe of her.

"Princess," she said in a soft whisper. "I am Delain, I am to be your handservant. This is Long, one of the Headman's guards. We are here to escort you to your appointed meeting."

Ana dismounted, and took a look back, seeing what may end up being the last glance of a fellow countryman she might ever see. The knight met her gaze in a passingly sympathetic way, before turning and riding off. She wondered if he was sad for her or for some ulterior motive. That had been the way of it with her father, who had hoped to marry her off in some more prestigious and politically beneficial way, rather than simply to pacify some tribe of savages.

Walking down the procession of tribals was not such an easy thing. All eyes were on her; some contemptuous, some distasteful, some simply curious, but all the same in the object of their focus. A pair of the barbarians, one striking young woman and one short but powerful looking man, were standing at the end of the line, marked differently than their other tribesmen.

Ana was unsure how to answer. This was, after all, a rather far cry than the stuffy court interactions she was more accustomed to. She forced a smile, one that was rather deceptive given her current feelings, and spoke as kindly as she could. Feigning emotion was nothing new to her, after all, "It is a pleasure, Delain...Long." The man did not answer in kind, making some gruff noise and then muttering something to the woman in their own tongue, so that Ilyana could not make it out.

All the same, she followed, for what choice did she have? The pair led her off through the camp, towards the tall dwelling and her new fate.

If the two servants who had been assigned to her had any emotions about the princess who had come to the tribe, they made no show of them. Long was stoic and passive, his short but sturdy presence noted by the other tribesmen as they passed them, all of them offering him the traditional thump of the fist to their chests as a sign of respect. Delain was more personable though, talking with her as they walked, explaining how she had spent some time with the traders along the waterfront.

"I learnt many of your customs there," she said. "I hope in time you will share them with us and maybe you would care to take part in some of ours."

Delain's kindness and experience with outsiders was clearly why she had been chosen to attend Ilyana but even she began to hang back as they approached the massive tent. Up close it was even more huge and intimidating. Delain lifted one of the leather flaps to one side, parting the way so that the three of them could enter. She spoke plainly to the only occupant of the room.

"Headman, Pride of our Ancestors, Blessed of the Sun, I present to you Princess Ilyana De'vren, daughter of the King."

Inside the tent it was dim but still bright enough for one's eyes to adjust to the light. The tent was covered in scattered rugs and animal hides and in the centre, sat on a crude throne was a large, powerful woman. She was powerfully built, bigger than Long and yet not musclebound. Her leather vest restrained a broad and full bosom and her long black hair was adorned with numerous ties and feathers that marked her position as head of the tribe. Her skirt was decorated with similar markings. She had dark skin and deep brown eyes and although her expression was serious, there was a trace of a smile on her lips as she watched the demure princess brought in. The powerful woman sat upright and spoke.

"So, the princess joins us at last. Welcome to my tent and by extension, the tribe."