BANG! The cell door slammed open, and her assailant spun around to see who it was, his adrenaline pumping as hard as hers. Justicar came into sight, and even with his mask covering his face she could see the anger radiating from him. The man in front of her knelt before him, but Justicar ignored him, coming directly to her.
“Did you hurt her?” He demanded in stern tone.
“Not at all, sir! She went for Rickon's blade, and she killed him. I only subdued her, that's it.” he stammered.
“What were you two doing here? Why did you bring a weapon with you.?” Justicar interrogated him, his anger growing with each excuse.
“We came to check out the prisoner. We weren't going to do anything too drastic, just the usual. You know, show her her place in this world.” He explained.
“Your friend brought a blade into a cell of a renowned warrior. He died for that mistake,” Justicar stood now, and approached the man, motioning for him to stand. “ You came to harm my personal pet project. Had you came and asked my permission to see her, I would have said no. And you would still be alive.”
“Alive?” Was the man's last word, as Justicar pulled his weapon from it's sheath in a flash. A clean cut severed the man's head from his body. It was as though the body hadn't yet realized it was slain, standing on it's two feet for some time after the head tumbled along the floor. Alhana still hadn't taken a breath, her eyes wide in some combination of fear and shock. Just a moment ago, she spoke what she thought was her last words, and now the body of her would be killer lied crumpled before. Justicar wiped his blade on the man's clothes and sheathed his blade, finally meeting her eyes.
“Did they touch you?” he asked, coming down from rage. He motioned to her bloodstained shift.
“No, it's not mine,” she managed to say, somehow. She caught a pleased grin on his face, like he was proud of her. Shouldn't he be mad? “Why did you save me?”
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I not about to share you with the likes of these two. I captured you, and that makes you mine. That man died for his insolence, not for your honor.” He looked over the room once more, now that the immediate threat was gone. She watched as he clenched his fists.
“You could have been killed ¬would have been killed if I hadn't arrived in time. How did you think this was going to go?” He asked her, exasperated.
“It would have been a warriors death, better than a captive's tortured existence.” She said with a shrug, meeting his eyes on the last phrase.
“You were going to throw your life away?” He asked, picking her up and throwing her against the wall. She winced from the force of his anger, suddenly terrified about what he intended to do to her.
“Your life is no longer your own. You don't get to end it so easily. Do you understand me?” She hesitated for a moment before answering. He grabbed her chin with cruel power and forced her to look into his raging eyes. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Yes” she managed to mouth, just loud enough to satisfy him, as her entire body shook with fear once more. He gazed into her eyes for a moment longer, seemingly content with her level of dread, before spinning her around, so that her back was to him. He pulled her arms behind her, eliciting a pained groan from her as her armed were shackled again. He then pushed her towards the door of the cell, walking close behind. She wanted to ask where he was taking her, but didn't think it was wise to provoke him in his current state.
They made their way up the fortress, almost completely silent, save for the few directions he gave her as they moved. They passed many of his subordinates along the way, but none dared to look at her, averting their gaze as she moved with Justicar. After walking up many flights of stairs, they finally came to a floor that seemed deserted of other soldiers. He took the lead now, pulling out a key as they arrived at a sturdy wooden door. He opened it with the key and pushed her inside, closing the door behind him.
The room was sparely furnished, despite it's size. A large desk, and a chair to go with it. A bed strewn with fur blankets, a bookshelf overflowing with tomes, a chest half open with clothes hanging out and a rack with his renowned jet back armor.
“This is your room,” Alhana noted out loud, still piecing together what it meant.
“It seems I have to keep a closer eye on you. So you don't do anything stupid.” He grabbed her arms now, pulling back towards him. A moment later she felt the shackles unlatched, and she rubbed her wrists.
“Clean yourself off.” he said, pointing out a basin on the far side of the room. He retrieved something form the chest and tossed it on the bed, a plain cotton shirt and pants. “You can wear that for now. I'll see about getting you some clothes.” He was almost calm now, as he turned to leave.
“Keeping me here like this...does this mean you're keeping me for a bed slave?” She asked, once more trying to gauge his intentions.
“No, you are welcome to sleep on the floor.” He responded with a chuckle, before leaving her alone once more. She almost called for him to stay, but realized that he intended for her to bathe, and was giving her some privacy. She couldn't deny that he had saved her life today, and she supposed she was grateful to him. He had already admitted he wanted to corrupt her, yet he wasn't overly cruel towards her. He hadn't even punished her for killing one of his men, unless that was still to come. If anything he seemed angrier that she had risked her life than she had killed a man.
She made her way over to the basin, figuring she may as well clean herself off while she pondered Justicar's intentions and motives. She started by peeling the blood soaked shrift from her skin, the dried blood causing the course material to stick to her. The water was cold, and she winced as she brought the wet rag to her body. She had to scrubbed herself for quite awhile to get rid of all the blood, her skin was raw and pink by the time she was done.
While she cleaned herself, she wondered about the water, and why it was here, ready to go. There is no way he could have predicted she would need it, or that he would even have reason to bring her here. Was it always his intention to keep her here, close to him? She would think that he would have brought her here before now, considering what almost happened, and how he reacted to that. Maybe this water wasn't intended for her at all, just a coincidence. As cold as it was, it must have been sitting here for awhile. That must be it, this water was for Justicar, to clean himself off. Just as the realization dawned on her, she couldn't help but imagine him, shirtless, dripping wet, running that same cloth over his hard muscles. She shivered hard, yet somehow not finding herself cold.
Nevertheless, she put on the clothes he had set out for her. They were not as starchy as the ones she had worn when she first arrived here. They weren't luxurious or anything like that, but simple and comfortable. They were certainly too large for her, but not by much.
Sitting on his bed, wearing his clothes, she couldn't help but feel surrounded by Justicar. She wondered if that was his plan, to permeate her mind so she couldn't possibly reject him. Leave her so indebted to him, that there was nothing she could deny him. She thought back to the kiss, the kiss he forced on her lips. Yet, even when given the chance to fight back, she didn't, couldn't. She might not have given in, but she was sure he still counted it a victory.
She supposed that thing that bothered her most about the kiss was the memories it brought up, shaking them loose to bubble up to the surface. The only other kiss she had received to this point in her life, the only other man who had held such a place in her mind. Vincent. Her mentor and the only man she ever loved. After he sacrificed himself for her, she rejected that part of herself, the part of herself that felt desire or longing. She blamed herself for Vincent's death, and further, she blamed her feminine allure to causing his downfall. Yet, after all these years, to discover that part of her wasn't truly dead, just sleeping. Awakened by a kiss from her enemy. Did he know how effective it was at causing her internal conflict? Did he seek to have her question her entire being? Or were his motive more base than that, merely a desire to feel his mouth against hers?
Clean, clothed, resting on a bed and sorting through all the thoughts flowing in mind, she was beginning to feel drowsy. She hadn't slept well before, cold and uncomfortable, interrupted by devious men. This wasn't much safer, in reality, yet, she could hardly resist closing her eyes for just a moment, until a moment melted away and she was too far gone.
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