Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Darkness Has Its Teachings (Athene & Alvis Alendran)

Once the amtter of ownership of the newly taken slaves was finished, the rest of the loot was shared out readily. Everyone that had gone on the raid was enriched well by it. Soon enough there would be a chance to trravel to one of the market towns, to spend their new wealth. Slaves were collected by new owners, adn taken from the ahll. More than a few mothers tried ot stay with their children, but no one was having such a disagreement. It was a kind of final seperation, being within the same village, but it was questionable as to when they might manage to see them again. Goðþormr had little idea why any of hte raiders had wnated the younger girls, but if he was honest, he also didn't prticularly care. None of his business now. The feast would take some time to prepare, and that leant him some time to himself. He stayed in his chair, looking down at Rowena. He waited until the doors slammed shut, leaving them alone for the moment.

"So then...what did you ask before...your people called you, what a Seer? Was that your place amongst your people then?" he asked her lazily, his eyes half lidded and seemingly barely paying attention. Appearances did deceive. While he was certainly at ease now, he was anything but inattentive. Now that he had her, he needed to know what exactly it was that he had at his disposal. And exactly how much use it would be. There were a few different approaches to this, depending on the depth of her gifts, how they were passed along, and what she was willing to contribute.
 

Rowena's eyes tightly shut as the separation started. Her hands were just as quick to raise, covering her ears through any necessary means. If that forced her to sink to her knees so even her chained wrist could reach, so be it. She was feeling horrible enough as it was; she didn't want to hear the pleas and screams all around her.

A few times she almost swore she heard cries along the lines of "Do something, Rowena! Make it stop!"

Oh how she'd give almost anything to, especially without anything bad happening.

As things were?

She didn't need Scathach's gift of Sight to know it would be one o the worst times to try to help out. They were all still unarmed and thus very defenseless. Openly defying any of these Vikings would lead to far too much blood on her hands. Possibly literally ... without a doubt, metaphorically.

It was just something Rowena did not want to risk.

Finally, it all stopped. The pleading, the begging .... done. As Rowena cautiously glanced around, she found the once occupied hall now empty. All for herself and the Jarl, anyway.

"Oh gods, what have I done?" she muttered, her mind and body registering everything that transpired over the past several days. Her body shook roughly, her arms crossing over her chest. The knot that had formed in her stomach seemed to return from nowhere. But now, it had tightened, seeming to grip her insides.

Now what?

Before any tears could cave in and start streaming down her face, Goðþormr would speak to her again. The sudden sound of the leader's voice made Rowena swiftly jerk her head up and make eye contact with him. Now he seemed to be taking his turn in asking questions about her.

Rowena's teeth lightly latched onto her lip. It was a simple answer, and yet, she felt scared to tell him. Why?

Is this another sign of yours, Scathach?

That was kind of good. If that was the case, it meant the gods truly hadn't abandoned her. Even still, lying wouldn't really do her any good. Definitely not now, and even less about something she'd already openly admitted to Goðþormr. Instead, she opted to choose her words carefully; being honest but cautious all at the same time.

"Yes," she finally confessed, "Your definition you gave me back on the ship was rather accurate. I do indeed have the ability to see things. Your ships were in my dreams the past several nights. It's ... the only reason any of the soldiers could get somewhat prepared at all. Because I told them of your arrival. Otherwise, it would have been worse of a massacre. While dreams are the most common, it's not the only method of being able to perform my duties. We have our own set of runes which I've used before. There are more still, but I've never needed to use any of them."

Rowena paused, knowing that was the truthful answer. But should she address her other gift, even if it wasn't as significant?

In the end, she decided to let Goðþormr choose whether he cared about her magic or not.

For now, she felt fine, knowing Rowena had done nothing wrong and simply told the honest to gods truth to this man.
 
Goðþormr nodded as she spoke. There was a fair amount to know in what she said. That his arrival had been forseen, such was not expected. They had cut through the defenders like grass, but then knowing an enemy was coming and being ready for that, such would be difficult. He doubted her visions had told her exactly the magnitude of the attack that was coming. It would have taken a dedicated force, nearly an army to stop them. He heaved himself to his feet, stretching a moment before glancing aobbut. No tools around him except weapons. A small oversight on his part. He stepped off the platform, dropping hte floor with a hollow thud. He walked towards Rowena, and slid his axe out of the loop at his waist before seizing her arm, and pulling it towards him. He placed her hand on a bench and raised his axe ovver his head.

"Do not move Seer, I would hate to miss." He warned her casually. He dropped the axe down. The blow was hard, fast, and thunderously powerful. Enough to cleave a hand from bone instantly. Or in this case, to snap the manacle off of her wrist.

He stepped back, letting go of her arm and stowing the axe once more. He turned his back on her and walked back to his seat, taking the steps this time as opposed to climbing the platform itself.
"Make no mistake Seer" Goðþormr said calmly as he sank back into his chair. "Such is for practicality. Not trust. After all, where will you go from here?" What came to his mind was that what she didn't mention was a telling thing. She ahd confirmed his thoughts, and told him nothing more. But he had been there when she had performed other workings. Or at least the results of said workings. That she did not mention them told him quite a bit. She would answer his questions, but she was not volunteering anything more than he asked. It was hard to say how that was going to go in the future.

"Tell me then Seer, these gifts you bear. Are they simply God given? Or is it also passed on in your bloodline?" He asked her, cocking his head as he spoke while keeping his gaze on her.
 

Nothing was immediately said. Although Goðþormr did offer Rowena a nod, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Suddenly, the same sensations of anxiety were emerging back tot he surface of her mind. Her mouth opened.

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

... Something kept her from actually voicing her thoughts. Fear was a small part of it, sure. But what of? Probably angering Goðþormr, if she had to take any guess at all. "W-What are you ... ??" Rowena's body paled slightly as he pulled his ax forward while walking out. Yes, it seemed incredibly redundant to kill her after claiming her not too long ago. But it wasn't like she knew Goðþormr much. As far as Rowena knew, h wasn't sane. Or he could actually be that cruel. Her head quickly moved from side to side as she scooted back, fearing the worst was about to come despite not having done anything to earn it.

No! No fair! Why?!

Rowena shut her eyes, doing so even tighter than when everyone else had been dragged away.

... Nothing happened. She definitely felt the ax move, but it never connected with her flesh. Instead, her eyes opened and saw it'd detached her restraint. Gulping nervously, Rowena elicited a few shaky breaths, trying to help calm herself. "I .. I understand," she softly replied, grateful he'd given her some mobility. Plus, he was right. Even if she could get to the docks, sailing without any knowledge of how to navigate a boat would be foolish. Just an easy way to die via drowning, freezing to death, maybe even both.

Her head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. Those were interesting questions.

"Honestly? I'm not completely sure myself. Both are possible. If it is passed down in the bloodline, I have no one to ask for confirmation. My mom died giving birth to me. Because of this, I was raised by the druids and other clergymen or women. I won't dismiss it as a possibility though."

Plus, the fact she had been the only Seer in her hometown was something Rowena often wondered about. She'd assumed it wasn't a coincidence that she was the only person with the gift of Sight. In fact, that would have been too convenient. But no one - not even the king - had explained anything to her, including why she was the only Seer. The same was true with failing to tell her about her origins, including whom her parents had been. And he had been the closest thing to a father so ... he would have known.

"I just ... " Rowena moved her head from side to side, looking clueless and intrigued, "I only know I was the only Seer back at my old home. Definitely not a coincidence. Both of what you've mentioned could very well be possible. Alas, I really don't know."
 
Goðþormr nodded, a smile creeping onto hsi face. Bloodline. That had an implication that he could appreciate. If it was indeed passed through the blood, as her being the only Seer among her people indicated, then there was a way to work with that. It would be a grand scheme, a long term one that would not come to proper fruition in his time, but he coudl lay the ground work for it. If it was a bloodline, then one could breed it. A task he felt that he was ready for.

"So be it Seer. Come soon, the raiders will be back, and they will be back bearing the trapping for a feast. Should you wish to avoid too much attention that I will not guard you from, you may wish to spend your time up here behind my seat. From there, this once, I shall ensure you are well fed. After tonight, I make no promises as to your feeding. It will depend on you from there." He explained casually. As if to punctuate his point, one of the door swung open and a party of men entered, all of them burdened with packs of food. More could be heard to be coming, and servants were emerging into the hall to ensure the feast would be laid out easily.

Great casks of ale and mead were set up, and more than a few skins of wine taken in trade or plunder. It was looking to be a rather grand affair thus far.
 

... She messed up. She'd said too much. The smile - more like a smirk to Rowena - suggested as much. Somehow, she'd said too much - or even something wrong - but ... how? What part? The bloodline?

But ... that's a myth practically. A guess. It may not even be .... stop. No sense panicking.

No further encouragement was needed. The moment food was mentioned, Rowena pushed herself up to her feet. She only stumbled a few times, and that was mainly because almost nothing had been provided on the boat trip to this new land. What food had been brought was small in portion, and more went to the Vikings than slaves. So being given a chance to make up for the past several days of having almost nothing sounded amazing. Rowena barely finished moving behind Goðþormr's chair before the hall doors opened once more, with the raiders entering. Just as the Jarl had said.

Yet hungry as she was, the Seer would use the exact same patience and common sense she'd been practicing thus far. She'd wait, take note of any cues Goðþormr may or may not give her ... including whether to wait for him to eat first before doing so herself. When she got extra food, she'd note if he made any gestures that would imply whether he wanted her to stop after grabbing a certain amount or not.

Any and everything to keep her safe and well, she did. Without hesitation or many second thoughts.
 
It didn't take long for the rest of hte raiders to assemble. They never had been slow on arrival for celebrations. The noise level continued to rise steadily until it was at a dull roar. The larger fire had been lit, and a pair of boar were set over it to begin their final roasting. Goðþormr was relaxed, adn raised a hand to signal that people were permitted to begin.

A servant came by with a large platter for him, setting it on a table before his seat, and he nodded to her in dismissal. She did so, only to return a moment later with a small cask of mead. She set it beside his seat with a practiced ease that spoke to long repetition of the task. A drinking horn was set before him, adn he gestured his head to one side. The servant hesitated, but returned with a second, smaller horn, adn set it before him as well. The cask was roughly the height of the knee, and a foot across at the lid, holding a fair amount of liquid. Goðþormr pressed his fingers to the lid, and pushed. The wood groaned, but his fingers pierced the wooden top, letting him lift the lid out without tools. He dipped the smaller horn into the mead, savouring hte sweet scent of rich honey coming from it, and offered it Rowena.
"Best take it Seer. What I drink, you drink this night. No more, but certainly no less." He warned her. A moment later he was leaning forward, pulling the small loaves of bread apart, and devouring them swiftly. Meat fgollowed, tearing it from the bone until he felt that he was starting to feel the beginnings of sated.

He swung the platter around, off the table, held in one hand with a sense of ease. On one side of it rested a pair of bread loaves, as well as a rack of boar ribs, still steaming with heat.
"Eat Seer. You'll find none better in the village."
 

Rowena knew she had been hungry. She didn't realize how much, though, until the food started coming in. Her stomach promptly growled, causing the young woman to blush. Justified or not, she just wasn't used to reacting in such ways around other people. Subconsciously, Rowena began to gawk and stare at everything coming into view. And, even if unintentionally, everyone, as even a servant came over and began personally setting various items and meals down before her and Goðþormr. Her hands had to grip her dress several times just to keep from reaching out and grabbing onto any of the food herself.

Sure enough, Goðþormr hinted everything he would eat and drink would apply to her.

... Surely, that was a good thing though, right?

"Thank you," Rowena answered, bowing her head politely as she took a hold of the horn. Lifting it up to her nose, the Seer inhaled the scent and noticed it was .... some sort of alcohol. She'd never indulged in it before, also a choice simply due to her opting not to rather than being forced.

Well ... first time for everything.

It'd be rude to refuse, for one. And two, Rowena was not feeling as picky as usual. She was too hungry and thirsty to decline, even if this was all very new to her.

A long gulp of the ale was downed and consumed. Rowena didn't spit it up like Goðþormr may have expected, but she definitely made a face and coughed several times. "Oh .... oh wow. Strong. Is it always this strong?"

Her head bowed once more as she took the bread first that was offered. Rowena started to raise it up to her lips before a thought came to her. Her head tilted as she looked over to Goðþormr.

"... What do I call you, anyway? I understand you claimed me as your slave, but do I always use Master?"

Allowing the question to linger, Rowena proceeded to eat. She'd start with the bread and go to the ribs soon after.
 
Goðþormr actually smiled at her reaction to the mead.
"No, it's not always like that. This is barely a middling brew of ours. The truly strong drink is saved for more pronounced occasions." He explained offhandedly. This wasn't a falsehood, the strongest of drinks were brought out for the ceremonies demanded by the Gods. Also for the moments of visiting dignitaries. "If you require more, help yourself." He gestured at the opened cask. He set the now used tray on the table, adn waved a hand. The tray was removed, adn more food brought. Choice meat carved from the boar, as well as sweeter baked goods for his taste.

He did ponder her later question, his form of address. Some seemed to enjoy forcing their slaves into more and more elaborate and compromising titles and the like, but he failed to see the point.
"Master I may be, but moer than anything I am the Jarl of this village and warband. Jarl Goðþormr, though to use the name would seem very familiar. Use such at your own peril." He advised.

He tucked into his next wave of food, washing it down with strong drink, feeling lighter and looser than he had in some time. The feast sounds were a dull roar in the back of his mind, though his eyes occasionally picked out a moment here and there that he took more careful note of. Gunnar in his cups, a risk on some days, but he seemed on his way to oblivion, not rage. Yrsa laughing int he face of one of the newer recruits to the warband as he nursed his shoulder, failing to match her strength in a contest. A proper celebration.

He swung the tray out again, still a baked apple and a small measure of boar on the tray, to Rowena's grasp. It was an odd thing to do, offering such a thing from the hand of the Jarl to a slave, but none questioned Goðþormr for it. He held it there a few moments longer, letting her collect her food before swinging it back to the table. He refilled his horn, taking a deep draught from it.
"What purpose were you to your people? And what should I be calling you? I assume you would prefer not to simply be called 'slave' at all times." He phrased it close to how she had done so, making it a kind of strange mockery that also bore answer. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
 

If Rowena hadn't been uncertain by now, oh she definitely was. This Master was so strange. Intimidating one moment, but seeming to genuinely care about her the next. Which side was his true nature though? Was it possible they all were? Her head throbbed sharply, making her groan weakly. "I probably shouldn't but ... " Her head nodded as she slowly refilled her horn, making sure not to spill any.

Somewhere in her mind, the logical part of Rowena was screaming and cursing at herself. She knew she was being incredibly dumb.

But she was famished and parched.

Those issues will definitely be gone soon enough ...

Still, each new sip of the mead made her head pound harder than the last. Yet, even though it pained her, the sweetness she could detect was well worth it. Restraint finally won and kicked in after finishing the second hornful of mead. "I ... I really am done for now. Good stuff, but I'm gonna need to walk afterwards."

When he finally gave his full name, Rowena took a few moments to listen - and check if her stomach truly did want more food or not. "Goðþormr?" The name came out slurred and far too fast. "Nooooope. No, no. There's no way I'm gonna be able to use that for a while. Jarl may just be easier." Though her hand managed to cover her mouth, the movements accompanying her body gave away what was happening; Rowena was chuckling. "Sorry, sorry. It's not you. I .... here. I really have had too much of this. So take it, before I look like a hypocrite." Reaching down, the Seer grabbed the empty horn and placed it back onto the table, allowing Goðþormr to keep it out of her reach.

Warm. That was how Rowena was beginning to feel. Very likely from the mead, i she had to guess. The same hand that gave the horn over moved to her face and began fanning it.

"... My purpose?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow, "Did I not tell you already? I literally was the Seer. The witch of our group. If they needed a healer, I was usually it. On the very rare chance they needed a spell that included an element, I was definitely the person they went to. So I was either the witch or Diviner, sometimes both. You ... can use Rowena."

The next ten - likely more - minutes ticked away. Poor Rowena looked something in between exhausted but very content as she set a half-finished portion of boar down. "This ... this was great. But I'm pretty sure I can't eat anymore. Thank ... thank you, Jarl~"
 
Goðþormr suppressed a laugh at how she seemed to be handling the mead. A light weight to be certain. But she had eaten her fill, drank more than her fill, and was now content it seemed. He turned back to the feast. It was in full swing now, several of the men calling for a tale, something the skalds had woven, and there was now several of such skalds vying for the honour. It was going to get out of hand soon enough he knew, but that in and of itself wasn't such a poor thing. He cast his gaze, lingering it on Yrsa, waiting. She shifted a moment, as though disquieted before she turned to look at him. He stood from his seat, and set his drinking horn on it, a sign that he was retiring for the evening. She nodded, standing from her seat, and moving towards the raised platform.

Goðþormr rest a hand on the Seer, a somewhat gentle gesture that bade her to stand.
"Come. You'll need to know where you sleep this night." He informed her. He left the hand there, a gentle presence on her, guiding her away form the chaos of the feast. Behind that there was a set of closed off rooms, rooms that belonged to him. It had been opened, fire lit within, prepared for his return to them by his servants. The first room was a sitting room, suited for private meetings that needed to be out of sight, and taking his ease. Beyond that there was his sleeping chamber, a large padded mat draped in furs to help keep the cold out.

Goðþormr detached his cloak, and hung it on a peg inside the door, swinging it shut behind them. The door was not so loud, but there seemed to be a finality in the act of it closing. He also produced a key, securing the lock in it.
"You'll be staying here tonight. ANd perhaps other nights in the future." He informed her simply.
 

"Goodness. What are they going on about? And you good gods, you are all sooooo loud. I ... I dunno if this is a good or a bad thing yet. Should I be worried?"

It was easy to hear half of the actual Rowena was still talking, and the other half was obviously heavily influenced by the mead. The latter, though, was rapidly taking its toll. Her eyes would close, shooting open as she realized she was literally about to pass out. Every time she looked around, though, she almost swore there was at least one more Viking before. Was the hall somehow getting more crowded? The last time, she finally saw the warrioress, Yrsa, beginning to come towards them.

"Hmm? Oh, yes! Please! I'm absolutely drained ... and not as sober as I should be. I ... have no idea if I should be walking at all, really."

Giggling softly at her own words, Rowena slowly pushed herself up. Her arms quickly stretched out and, sure enough, she stumbled slightly. But at least in doing so, it made her nearly bump into the Jarl ...which was good if only in knowing she wouldn't get lost. Slightly clumsily, but still, she managed to grab onto one of the Jarl's sleeves. "I think ... I'm gonna take a break from that drink. Too ... whew."

While definitely not the exact type of bed she was used to, a bed was still a bed. So as all of the furs reflected in Rowena's eyes, she sighed, looking relieved to have arrived at somewhere warm and very comfortable looking. Her focus was on anything but the clicking of the lock. Somewhere in between her still tipsy state and finding where she wanted to go, Rowena had let go of Goðþormr's arm. Now, she was making her way to the bed of furs. Whereas Goðþormr had removed his own cloak, she kept hers on. More as a precaution should any chilly winds find their way in.

"Mmmm. This is nice ... " she murmured, her body relaxing as she plopped atop the skins and furs. "And new. Never thought about using animals quite like this."
 
It was with a certain amount of amusement that Goðþormr watched Rowena drop herself to the bed. His cloak was off, but he walked past her, and as he did so removed his belt, setting the item beside his bed, the heavy bladed knife he had on him most time still tucked into it's shaethe. He crouched to remove his boots, another pair of knives coming out of those, leaving him finally without weapons. Still, no less dangerous for all that.

There was a momentary pause in his actions. He was here, she was upon the furs of his bed, and he could simply let her rest. It would be entirely simple.

But he was Jarl, and she a slave within his chambers.

He moved closer to her, coming up on her left side. a hand reached out to deftly unclasp the cloak from her. He tossed the now loose portions of hte away from her neck, leaving her alittle more revealed to the open air. The room was warm enough to be comfortable, but Goðþormr had every intention of making it warmer in other ways. one hand moved to her leg, stroking along hte inside of her leg, sliding up her thigh, the dress sliding higher with it.
 

... Damn.

Rowena could feel it. She was at that 'tired but unable to sleep' phase. Slightly odd, mainly because alcohol was usually good at helping people fall asleep. Ah well. She could close her eyes and, hopefully, find slumber soon enough. She doubted it'd take that long to succeed in. Yet, seconds after her eyes shut, loud noises made her open her eyes. One knife .. no, no. Two. And then it became four as another pair was removed from his boots.

... That seemed ... dangerous. But it wasn't an unheard of tactic. Even some of the Celts did similar things; hiding small weapons in places like boots rather than keeping them next to a belt. Uncommon ... but not so much she hadn't seen or heard of it.

Once more, Rowena's eyes began to close ... but stopped as she caught sight of something. A hand, upon her sight adjusting. She raised an eyebrow, looking a bit confused on her cloak being removed. Perhaps, however, it was for the best. After all, there was such a thing as overheating, and that could end up happening if her cloak remained upon her for too long. While Rowena could dismiss that much, it was everything afterwards which made her begin to sober up.

"... Huh?! Ummm .... "

Her head quickly moved from side to side as she scooted back. "I .... I'm not comfortable with .... these sorts of things. And I am tired. Please don't."
 
Goðþormr heard ehr words, took them into consideration, and knew that such did deserve a response.
"I imagine you were not comfortable with your village being burnt to the ground. I imagine you were not comfortable with being taken as a slave. This shall be one more thing that happens this day that you are not comfortable with." He informed her with a kind of casual indifference. As he finished, he reached a hand to her leg, and pulled. The motion dragged her closer to the edge of the bed, and he let her go then. A knee made it ontot he bed, his other hand reaching out to seize on her arm to pin her down while he moved closer. There were times that Goðþormr seemed to be wihtout a great deal of threat to him besides his size, but in this moment he wore threast and impending violence like a cloak around himself, making him seem more dangerous than normal.

He ahd to admit that it wasn't uncommon for some places to keep their Volur more...restrained. Goðþormrwas not one of those, and all he saw was a woman that already belonged to him. If she opted to fight him on this, well, he was quite comfortable with fighting in all respects. His hand went to her dress once more, pulling it up her legs to expose more skin to the flickering firelight, content to take a little time right now. There was no hurry.
 

Her head moved slowly from side to side. It'd vanished or a while. Now, the tight knot returned in her midsection, seeming to get worse with every sentence Goðþormr. " .... You'd be right. I've been trying to be civil but ... yes. I can't say, despite keeping a decent attitude with you, I was fine with any of those. If you understand .... "

"Then why?"

Yet already, she could almost hear those answers. From simply because he could to because he owned her, each made Rowena grimace. Her heart began to pound faster as she stared up into the Jarl's body. Her body caved in and began trembling. The tears she'd managed to hide started to form once more. The stinging in her orbs only got worse as she tried to think of what she could do. There were very few things, and even with what hr mind was conjuring, there were low chances they'd work.

"Why then?! I've done nothing wrong!"

With the first - and much safer - option being used, her mind rushed to think about the only way she would even have a chance to get out of this. Her magic. It'd be really risky, and not just because Goðþormr was so close. Even Rowena would, if she opted to take this chance, be smart on her selection.

Fire in basically any form or fashion, for example, was a no-go. Not at the expense of being caught in the flames.

Water .... was always easier to use when near a source including said element. So that was also out of the equation.

... Is there nothing that can be done?!

Nothing was coming to her mind, which was probably for either of the following reasons. She was panicking too badly, or there was, indeed, no real option. But the latter wasn't something Rowena was ready to accept. Not yet, anyway. "Please don't," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. Instincts started kicking in as she squirmed. Her arm pulled frantically against Goðþormr's grip while Rowena's lower body shut her legs tightly together, trying to hide the panties - and everything hidden under those - from immediate view and reach.
 
The protests, the struggles...it was still diffrent to when one indulged during a raid. Taking duringh te heat of hte battle, when the blood and battle lust was still upon you, that was different. It was also rarely conducive to a longer term arrangement as a prisoner. The other party didn't typically survive. But bringing them back to your place of dwelling, to find yourself with opportunity and will, that was the next best thing. Herr outburst of question gave him a moment of pause. An idea was present in his mind.

"You assume such is punishment. You have done nothing wrong, but I am jarl, and whaty I wish, I take from those who are not free. If not you then another." He told her calmly. He had worked her dress up reasonably high before he removed his hand and gripped her hair. He stood from the bed, dragging her with him to a stand position so that he could bring her fce to his for his next words. "Tell me then Seer. I will have someone this night. Tell me which of your fellow villagers you would see tkae your place in here this night. But know I would be less than gentle with any of them." As he spoke, his free hand gathered cloth fromt he front of her dress, and her stomach, and tightened his grip. Fabric began to strain, to fray, ready to give way to his strength. "Who shall I take this night? You? Or another that you will name?"

There was always somethign about forcing people into untenable situations that made Goðþormr smile. He had long found it helped with the process of breaking a person down somewhat, to be forced to make choices that would be neither pleasant nor fair were he honest. He also didn't care about that. It amused him, and that was a worthy goal to him.
 

"... N-Not a punishment, no. But .... I'm not .... ahhhh! Owww, owww, ahhhh!"

The rest of her statement was lost, all but jerked away as the Jarl literally did so to her red hair. Rowena's breathing got a bit shaky as she was forced up to her full height. While not the shortest woman she could have been, it was easy she was still very underneath Goðþormr in comparison. Five and a half feet - maybe a few more inches than that - versus whatever he was. Well more than six inches, and that was probably the bare minimum. Rowena breathed deeply through her nose, shooting an irritated glare as he kept holding onto her crimson locks.

"None of them!" she replied, a pained wince mingling in with a whimper. "How can you even say such things so easily? Are you that ... ??"

... And then she stopped, coercing herself to hold her tongue by literally gripping her lower lip. Deciding that if she allowed the rest of that musing to be heard, it'd definitely be more worse for her than it was already going to be. The Seer waited, making herself gain a much better control and only spoke when the best and most appropriate reply could finally pass her lips.

"Fine. Keep me. Leave the others out of it."
 
Goðþormr allowed himself a wolfish grin at her words, the acceptance of what may come. Maybe not acceptance, but a kind of resignation at least. She would not spare herself horrors to see tham on another. There was a kind of nobility in that, and honour that he would be forced to acknowledge about her character. And he would do so. But he would also not be stopped form his purpose this night.

With a casual movement he tossed her back towards the bed, his fist never unclenching, the sound of tearing cloth now filling the air. He did not expect her to accept what came, despite her words, there was bare primal instinct that remained. He discarded his own shirt without a thought, tossing it to one side, feeling the faint edge of hte air on his torso. Scars seamed his skin, a map of violence and pain throughout his life, and he came closer to the bed, climbing onto it, and reaching a hand out to grasp the arm of Rowena, pulling her closer to him, and then reaching to begin the task to getting the remainder of the cloth from her body. He wanted to see what it was his labours had won him.
 

'What if's had always been the worst types of scenarios for Rowena. But this was by far the worst one thus far. She hadn't convinced her previous king well enough to heed her visions. She'd let it slide too easily, and that was definitely part of her doing. But she knew it was just as much Bssil's fault as it was her own. A bit more, truthfully. He'd listened to her every other time. Why the Vikings had somehow ended up being an exception was beyond her.

All she knew was so many things could have been prevented if things had gone differently. Even if they still succeeded in their raid, getting people to safety - namely all the other women and children - could have been achieved. And Rowena would feel much better with herself. But now, they were all here also, and able to be used as leverage. The stinging and prickling in her eyes started to strengthen. Her own fists clenched, a whimper joining as she dug her nails a bit too deep in her palms. All right around the same moment her body was thrust back onto the bed.

"W-Wait! You didn't have to rip them. That was .... "

"All I had left!"

... Who was she kidding? Clearly, he didn't care. Her head turned away as she let out a frustrated growl. "You're a horrible man," she muttered, lifting her hips and helping him remove her undergarments. Not really for his sake, bu more her own. Relieved as she was the cloak had stayed intact, that wouldn't be able to help her remain alone. Not by itself. And now with the dress rendered useless, she'd need ... something else.

... Why me?

Would it even have been better if someone else claimed her? Some part of the Seer wanted to desperately believe yes. But why did some part of her feel it may actually be worse?

By now, Rowena was basically sobered up completely. Now the mead lingering in her system was giving her a headache and being a nuisance. Just like this mess she'd found herself in. Slowly, she moved her gaze back ... not at her Jarl, but her body, which was now nude. There were only two options. And so, shameful as it was, Rowena shut her eyes. Begrudgingly, she parted her legs, allowing Goðþormr to get a better view of her crotch.
It was an act definitey also not for his sake. But over having her body too badly bruised and hurt? This was the lesser of two evils, even if it made her look a bit sleazy in the process.
 
Reluctant acceptance was something that he could come to terms with quickly. The sooner she came around to her new role in the world, the better it would be for everyone. Goðþormr nodded at ehr words about hsi quality as a man, it was ntohing he hadn't heard a hundred times from people who had wound up on the wrong side of his raids. Rowena was meerely the latest in the series. Depending on her quality, in many ways, would determine how long she lasted here and how she would end up. Most didn't last long, either due to breaking under the strain, or simply becoming mundane and boring to him. Only time would tell how Rowena would fair.

He pulled his belt off, seeingh er eyes cloes, and make herself more...ready for his actions. A moment later his pants were no more than a heap on the floor, and he stretched hsi arms out, making sure he was loosened up for what was coming. Goðþormr took a moment to run his tongue along a finger, lathering it up before he approached her. His hand moved forward, the finger rubbing along her sex, that moisture transferring over to her, making it easier to move. He rubbed along her sex a few moments before he pushed his finger forward, starting to penetrate her with it to begin.
 

Nothing was happening. Why not? Had he changed his mind? Was this even truly happening? Had she simply been trapped in one of the worst dreams of her life and failed to wake up?

The moment Rowena's eyes opened, she realized the answer was a third one she hadn't wanted to consider; the bastard was purposely taking his time. Making her remain in such a degrading position. Practically savoring how she looked, if the Seer had to make any decent assumptions. The bright blue eyes hid once more as Rowena shut her eyes again, particularly as he removed his own pants. Reaching down, she gripped onto the furs, keeping her hands from covering her body up. Anything that could result in her body being too roughly handled, she was trying to fight against, even if it'd make her look lewd and like an easy lay.

The gods know the truth. They always do.

The silent mantra did help ... but only to very certain extents. Even if that was the case, it wasn't about to change anything that would soon happen. And that was what helped cause a few tears to stream silently down her face; knowing she had to accept this. She just wasn't heartless enough to not care about the other women. And most had already suffered worse than her, more so those who lost both sons and daughters. She knew one for sure hated her.

No sense in making it worse for herself.

Please just hurry up ...

... Would it be worth trying a non-verbal spell while she had the time and opportunity? Maybe, and a huge one at that. Even if she somehow succeeded, the effects would be noticed. And because it required more concentration than normal, she'd be even more drained than when she'd casted - for example - her earlier incantations.

Before Rowena could even consider putting forth the effort, an odd sensation made her back arch as a shocked gasp passed her lips.

"Ahhhh!"

It didn't necessarily hurt... not before he found her hymen, at least. But it was a very new feeling. She still didn't want this. At the same time ... even she couldn't completely deny this didn't feel nearly as bad as she'd originally thought.

What are you thinking?! she inwardly screamed at herself, Don't give into this so easily!

Except ... it was one of those things becoming much easier said than done. Each movement resulted in a new whimper, pant, moan, or combination of all the above. The saliva had helped get her moistened up, the light movements of Goðþormr's digit getting her more and more soaked.
 
Goðþormr had to wonder at her reaction to his work. he'd meant it as a bit of a starter for their activities, but the way she reacted he ahd to wonder if this was new ground for her. Most that he knew that had experience didn't react quite so favourably to his actions. It didn't matter really, it wouldn't change what was about to happen here, but it was something that lingered int he back of his mind.

She was getting far more ready for him than he had expected, at this pace, but that was nothing to be worried about. He quickeded the pace of his finger, while moving closer to her. His knnes were between her legs now, close enough to her that he could feel the heat of her skin, but not close enough to make contact. His free hand moved forward, gathering one of her breasts in his hand, squeezing, taking int he feel of her. There was always something...special about his first time with a woman, getting to know the unique contours and textures of her.

His hand took in hte far smoother, softer skin that she had against his hand, his sword hand no less, calloused and rough from years and years of work and battle. His figner and thumb ran along the skin, capturing her nipple between them, and squeezing, rolling it, drawing out the sensation. His other hand shifted, pushing a second finger into her, working her steadily as he shifted again, coming closer still. His thumb flicked out, brushing along hte top of her clit, just a touch, a contact, something to see what kind of a reaction he might get out of her.
 

No, no, no, no, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Rowena was much worse than simply frustrated at her body. She felt humiliated, betrayed, and incredibly ashamed. These were supposed to be natural reactions. The circumstances, as well as the man doing everything to her most intimate spots, were making the more negative emotions take an almost literal, firm hold on the poor Seer.

This isn't right! You don't like thissss!

"W-Wait!" she tried to protest, gasping and shuddering as her nipple was quickly trapped between Goðþormr's fingers. Rowena clung onto her lower lip, trying her absolute best to muffle herself. "N-Not another!" she pleaded, whimpering and clamping as the second finger entered. "T-Too much! Oh gods!" The increased pace plus addition of the second finger were working wonders on Rowena's inside. She could feel her vaginal muscles rapidly squeezing, caressing the fingers. All but encouraging him to resume, even if Rowena was trying to verbally argue.

I can't take much more!

While Rowena had never given her body to a man before, she wan't completely naive to terminology. As such, she understood what she was feeling. Her first true climax was hastily building up, and it wouldn't take much more work from Goðþormr to make her give in and squirt.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Her fists clung tightly to the furs, her back arching. Before Rowena could stop herself in any form or fashion, juices leaked down her thighs, onto Goðþormr's fingers, and some even steadily trailing onto the bed. A few tears of pure shame streamed down her face as the young maiden panted heavily. Strong as her orgasm had been, she at least wasn't about to immediately pass out. Nonetheless, it would be clear too the Jarl, however, it had taken quite a bit of energy out of his newly claimed woman. Her eyes glared up towards the blue eyes, looking .. uncertain. Torn on whether she would narrow her own orbs first or look more content with what he'd just manipulated her body into feeling.

"Let this happen, child."

... That definitely kept Rowena from earning any unpleasant slaps - if not worse. She jumped slightly, bucking against the fingers still buried inside her.

W-Who?

... She wasn't going crazy. Right? She had just heard that voice in her head. But who in the hell could ... ??

"The one you've been so devoted to for many years. It's alright, Rowena; not what this man has done to our home or people. What he is about to do, however, don't fight it."

By now, there was probably a very confused - rightfully so, she inwardly added - look on the young adult's face. That ... was Scathach?! And she was ... condoning the fact her captor was about to rape her?

Why?

It didn't make any sense. But this wasn't simply randomly happening to her. Rowena highly doubted it, anyway.

"Just trust me. I know what I'm saying. Time will reveal everything, including this answer."

Rowena subconsciously nodded, shivering slightly from both what cold had snuck inside the hut and a shiver that trailed down her spine. At this rate, it seemed the only thing she could do - for her goddess and new owner - was to accept what was about to happen. She definitely did not even somewhat comprehend why Scathach was allowing this. But ... she had always been with Rowena. Maybe not necessarily literally, but in certain ways, most definitely. It was Scathach that gave Rowena her Sight at all. She could have removed those abilities in addition to her being able to cast spells, even after being taken in as a prisoner.

Yet, she hadn't.

That fact and display of loyalty made Rowena know the actions - lack of, one could argue - were being done for reasons. Unknown motives, but ones nonetheless. If Scathach had wanted to give up on Rowena, she could have done that days ago. Years, even.

But ... she hadn't. And, apparently, had no intention to.

Vile as this was, the same conclusion kept coming to her.

"Pl...Please keep going," she managed to murmur out in a soft but audible enough tone. "T...That .... that felt good. Really good."

Whereas Goðþormr or any other of the Northmen would try to accuse Rowena of simply uttering words to keep the Jarl happy, that wasn't why she'd said them. Not completely. So maybe it was partially true. Her facial expressions had likely hinted she zoned out. Why exactly, though, was what the Seer was trying to keep hidden away. The best way to do that, therefore, was to give her Master something more immediate to heed and take note of.

In this case, a request. And one that would very likely not be expected, more so given she had tried to fight against this not too long ago.
 
Seeing her reach her climax was a sign enough to him that no matter what else happened here, she was going to be ready for him. Her verbal protests made him smile, knowing how hard this must have been for her, trying to hold off, but her body had a momentum all it's own that wouldn't be denied. Once she had finished, he was about to simply wade in, half choke her and savage her, but then she did something that made him pause.

She asked him to keep going.

He cocked his head, wondering if this was some kind of desperate ploy on her part. Ask him for it, try to draw him in, hoping it might unnerve him enough to stop him? It was desperate, but also not the wisest choice, and he thought that the Seer knew better than that. Which left the uncomfortable notion that there might be something else at play here. Or it could be he was thinking too much about it, and she had simply enjoyed the result of his actions, and wanted to see what more there might be for her this night. That seemed to be the most likely outcome. And he was more than willing to oblige her in that regard.

"As you wish." He told her simply, his mouth curling into a smirk that spoke of anticipation and hunger, and he moved in on her, his fingers sliding out of her sex. He moved close enough to her, and lined his member up with her. He rubbed the head of it against her, making sure that he going to be lubed enough to make it in since it was going to be a tight fit, he was sure. Wider even than the two fingers, it was going to be a new experience all over again for her. Taking a deep breath, he eased himself forward.

She was cooperating with him, he could be...somewhat gentle with her. That much was acceptable, but there was always going to be a side of him that favoured aggression and something close to violence. It always came down to that sooner or later. He felt his member push into her slowly, stretching her around him as he began to move into her. He grit his teeth at the feeling, fighting hte urge to slam himself home, keeping his pace even and easy, giving her the chance to adjust to his size. He felt a youch of resistance, knowing then for sure that this was the first expereince that she had with something like this, and that called for a swift response. His hand came awawy from her breast for a moment, sliding under her neck, and pulling her body off of the bed, bringing her up to him, his mouth touching on her neck, before teeth scraped along her skin in a sudden, and rather distracting manner. He took that opportunity to push past the resistance, sheathing himself inside of her completely.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom