Jeroam made his way down the stairs, followed by a half-dozen of his men. They'd returned less than an hour ago, and he'd initially gone looking for Aurianna. She wasn't around, though, preparing to escort the Oracle on a pilgrimage. He'd nodded his approval of that –she wasn't ready for a real mission, but a simple task like that would be right up her speed. Let her feel useful once more. Get those silly notions out of her head. But, since she wasn't around, he'd suggested to his men that they go pay a visit to the traitor. Soften him up a little, as it were, for his trial. All of them had lost friends or family or both to the demons, so they agreed.
"Now," Arthur was asking, "you're sure we won't get in trouble? I'm already on the Lord Commander's shit list. I don't need more trouble."
"I'm sure," Jeoram laughed. "There's nobody down here at this time of night. Nobody but the traitor, that is."
"Matthias…" The distant voice echoed up from the dungeon.
Barnabas laughed. "Sounds like someone else worked that out, went looking for a little privacy."
Jeoram nodded, frowning. Something sounded familiar about that voice. Voices, actually, because they grew clearer as they reached the hall and headed for the stairs.
“I love you.”
Even louder as they approached the traitor's cell.
"You deserve better…better than me.”
And both voices sounded more and more familiar as he turned the corner.
“You don’t have to die tomorrow.”
"Afodisia..." he breathed, shock and horror filling his voice.
The scene before him was one of his nightmares. Aurianna, half-naked and tangled up with the naked body of the traitor. His men shifted behind him, laughing uncomfortably as he stared. Betrayal gripped his heart –he loved her! Even when she'd accused him of rape, he'd loved her!
Did she moan your name? Tell you she loved you? Did your magical healing cock wash away the horror? Or were you just the latest in a long series of rapes?
The feeling of betrayal hardened, becoming icy hate. And now, rather than turn to him for comfort, she'd crawled down to whore herself out to a demon.
Ignoring the chuckles of his men, he tore open the cell door.
"Dirty, fucking, whore!" He raged, tearing into the cell like wildfire. She still hadn't disentangled from his arms as she stood, the traitor’s body covering her from the eyes of him and his men. Jeoram tore Matthias away, hurling him on the floor, signaling for his buddies, "Hold this fucker down."
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Aurianna?” He sneered, slamming her into the wall. Wanting to hurt her, to repay the hurt of catching her with another man. He didn’t even give her a chance to dress herself or cover her shame. The whole order should see her shame, should see how she betrayed the Order, in betraying him.
“I…” she started, glancing away. She refused to look him in the eye as she prepared a falsehood. Just like last time.
“You try to ruin my life by lying to the Lord Commander about me raping you,” He charged, tightening the grip on her shoulder.
“What, Jeoram that’s not– “
“And now I find you down here fucking your demon rapist?” He slammed her into the wall again. She met his gaze now, eyes filled with hatred.
“You’re the only rapist I see in here,” She said, the words like venom upon her lips. The accusation broke his control, and he threw a right hook against her ear. Her knee smashed up into his gut, knocking the air out of him. He was only disoriented for a moment, just enough time for her to tackle him back into the bars. Fists came fast and furious, pummeling his face and inciting his rage.
“Get this bitch off me!” he called out, gurgling his own blood. Three sets of hands grabbed her now, restraining both of her arms and wrapping around her waist. She kicked and flailed, but three men’s strength was too much for her to overcome. Jeoram took advantage of her defenselessness, bringing another hard left-cross against her jaw. A powerful uppercut into her diagraph left her coughing up blood.
"You whore," he spat, using her hair to twist her head. "Look at you, scarred by his teeth and dripping with his seed. How long have you been fucking him?"
"She..." the demon started to say.
"Silence that thing," Jeoram said, not even looking. "But leave it alive. We don't want him to escape justice tomorrow.” Chuckling, he gave Aurianna a nasty smile. "Or you, demon whore." The terror of realization in her eyes was satisfying.
"What do you have in mind?" Barnabas asked from where he leaned against the wall.
Jeoram glanced at him, then turned his attention back to Aurianna as she began to struggle. A solid kick to the abdomen, followed by a vicious blow to the kidney put an end to that. "If she can fuck a demon," he laughed, "then it shouldn't be any hardship to fuck a Paladin."
Barnabas and the others –even the three beating Matthias– looked at him.
"Really?" asked Arthur, who hadn't bothered to hide his appreciation of Aurianna's half-dressed body. "You're shitting me, right?"
Jeoram laughed again. "You all heard her. She’s not a paladin anymore. Just the demon’s whore. Probably escaped the demons on the flat of her back." Turning, he half-dragged her by the hair behind him. "C'mon. We need to cleanse this bitch." Pausing at the door of the cell, he looked back at the three men working Matthias over. "Don't worry. We'll save a piece for you."
Arthur and Barnabas scouted ahead. Jeoram dragged Aurianna through the halls, pausing to slap or kick her anytime she tried to struggle or cry out. Finally, he pushed open the doors of the Cathedral and shoved her in, laughing as she stumbled and fell to the floor. Behind her rose the altar, and then the great golden statue of the Goddess with a spear in one hand and the other outstretched.
"In here?" asked Ulric. "You sure?"
"Can you think of a better place to cleanse her?" Jeoram laughed, picking her up and throwing her violently into the altar. Drawing a knife, he stepped forward and held it before her face. Then he began to cut the leather dress away. He wasn't gentle, and blood was drawn more than once. "Shut the fuck up, whore," he snapped, when she cried out at the sharp pain. "You bled yourself for your demon, willingly enough."
Ulric and Barnabas grabbed her arms when she tried to lash out at that, bending her back against the polished wood. Laughing, Jeoram sheathed the knife and began to undo his belt. "Cheer up," he told her. "You promised you'd fuck me on the altar, remember?" He slapped her again. "I'm just giving you what you said you always wanted."
As the other paladins laughed, he forced her thighs apart and drove his cock deep into her.
“Oh Afodisia! That feels good!” Clara moaned, giggling and gasping excited. Between her thighs, William's fingers brushed the outside of her breeches, rubbing into her slit.
“Yeah, you like it?” He asked, running the tips of his fingers down the length of her womanhood. Her cotton small clothes created a delightful friction. “You are getting hot down here.”
The teenaged couple had stolen into the Cathedral, to spend one last romantic evening together. They had packed a meal, and a half bottle of wine, which they didn’t manage to finish. By now, both were tipsy and half naked, exploring each other’s bodies.
“Right there!” Clara dug fingers into William’s arms, as he found a sensitive spot. With a teasing smirk, he pressed against it. She squirmed, both spreading herself wider for him, and slinking away from the sensation. Only her teeth biting into his throat could hold back her cries.
“Do you want to touch mine?” he asked, getting bolder and sliding a finger under her small clothes. She nodded, already working at his pants and reaching in to find his hardness. It sprung out to meet her fingers, and she stroked him, watching his reaction as her own bliss grew.
“Oh Clara!” William’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, and he teased her clit in response. Both teens moaned and sighed, fumbling their way around each other’s body. William grew even harder and twitched in her hands, until she felt something hot and sticky splatter her fingers and his pants. With a nervous, handsome smile, he kissed her. “I should clean off.”
“So should I!” Clara laughed, and wiped her fingers on his pants.
“Hey!” His protest was half-heartened, with that giddy smile on his face.
“What? You already stained them!” She didn’t want to stop, but he yawned, and she knew she should try and get some sleep tonight. Still, she didn’t move, just watched him as he dressed.
“Should I wait for you?” He asked, noting her half naked state.
“Nah, I have more clothes to find and put on.” She crawled around the floor, finding her tunic under a pew.
“Okay.” William gave her one last glance, wearing a conflict smiled on his face. “I’ll miss you.” Clara managed to find the rest of her clothes, and dressed, still giddy from the drink and her own excitement. When she heard the cathedral door open, and she peaked out, to see if William had returned.
What she saw far worse than an overexcited teenage boy. Bloody and bruised, Lady Aurianna stumbled in and fell onto the floor. Clara saw four men follow behind her, three she didn’t recognize, but the one last one was Lady Aurianna’s own fiancé, Lord Jeoram.
Clara gasped into her hands, holding back any sound as she watched him throw her on the altar and cut off her dress. Silent tears streamed down her face as Jeoram forced himself between Aurianna’s thighs.
Matthias was curled up in his own private world of pain, hardly able to tell the new blows from the old injuries. He knew –remembered from past lessons at the hands of masters of pain– that presenting a smaller target would make him seem weaker. More beaten. And, unless these crude children were the equals of Baath-Me'el's Court, they'd take that for victory. And so, he endured, fingers white-knuckled around the small leather bag that he clung to like a talisman, wishing he had something to pray to.
Finally, it ended. One of the paladins spat on him as they left, joking about 'their turn'. He tried to uncurl but found he lacked the strength. And, even if he could, what would be the point? He'd be trapped in his cell, and they'd have...
Aurianna.
Fucking bitch. Aurianna hadn’t screamed, hadn’t cried, hadn’t done anything but glare with those damned golden eyes of hers. One last grunt and Jeoram sheathed himself inside her, emptying his animosity inside her. Still, she glowered, refusing to blink or look away.
Averting his gaze, he looked upon the statue behind her, the Goddess they all served. The goddess she betrayed, by lying with the demon and offering him freedom. The statue shared that unflinching gaze, judging him. Afodisia celebrates all acts of love. But there was no more love in his heart, not after she torn it from his chest with her infidelity.
Resentment sent his hand across her face again, but she didn’t even flinch. Didn’t stop staring. Bloodied lips curled into a half smirk, and they both came to the same realization. The goddess stripped him of his divine gifts.
Aurianna betrayed me, and now Afodisia had forsaken me. He might not be a paladin anymore, but neither was she. Not once they finished with her. Assuaging himself with thoughts of her coming torment, he forced a smile, “Who wants next?”
The three men laughed, offering suggestions to use her all together. Jeoram turned, still feeling the judgmental eyes of the Goddess on him as he pushed the door out into the courtyard.
Clara cowered behind the statue, wishing she could find the courage to do something. Anything. Because they were... were... Oh, Goddess, they were Paladins! Paladins didn't behave like– didn't, didn't rape. They didn't rape, and joke about it! And yet–
Bile rose in her throat. She wanted to vomit, both from what they were doing, and from her own impotence. Her own cowardice. Why didn't she have her sword? Or even a knife? Armed, she could–
Could what? What could she do, against three armed Paladins? She was good against practice dummies, good against the few minor demons she'd fought. But, not against three armed and trained men.
No, she was a paladin! Or she would be! She could charge out there, grab one of their swords, and... and...
And get disarmed, and thrown to the ground. Raped, just like her mistress. The idea, combined with the horror of watching her mistress being raped by paladins, left her paralyzed with dread. Finally, she cowered back down behind the base of the statue, eyes closed and hands over her ears, trying not to see or hear what was happening. She was just a kid! Just a scared, half-trained kid, and the realization drew hot, bitter tears from her. One hand pounded the floor in frustration.
And brushed something hard and cold. She looked down, seeing the hilt of a broadsword just barely protruding from the space beneath the altar. A scrap of parchment was bound around the handle. Hand shaking, she untied it and read it.
You're stronger than you know, it read, written in a bold, graceful hand. Help her.
There was something about the bag. Something within it, that penetrated Matthias’ pain-fogged brain. Untying the leather thong took too many tries with his swollen fingers, but finally, he managed. He emptied the pouch into his hand and stared at the object glittering in his blood-stained palm.
A small, oddly-shaped key.
