Disclaimer: I don't own any of this except the OC's
Warning: rape (not to graphic) and self-harm
TRAITOR PROLOGUEThe woman watched as her blood dropped into the cup of half clean water. A drop tried to stay together and it swirled that way before mingling with the water so it took on a faint reddish tinge.
She didn't remember when she had taken to self-harm. She knew only that it was her only means of escape. Life in the Saxon army was far from pleasant. But it was necessary.
Her husband had been a Sarmatian knight but he had deserted and made his life in a small costal village, her home. She had been the local beauty, the daughter of the head villager, he was the half crazed but still handsome knight, fearing discovery.
He was heart sore for he had left behind his brother, a year his senior, and his friends but he could no longer bear to remain under Roman decree not matter how kind his officer had been.
She had been the one to bathe his forehead with a cooled washer as he tossed and turned in his tumult fever. She had been his watcher and eventually his lover. The Sarmatian was accepted into this sleepy fishing village on the white cliffs.
It had been a good time filled with happy memories. Her father had eventually married her to the knight. H had some qualms with entwining his daughter to this foreign man but as the youth revealed an eagerness and readiness to integrate into their society, to leave behind his past life, the old man's worries were eased.
Her new husband had been a scout when he served his time for Rome but even his ken eyes didn't see the trouble coming for it came silently and appeared form no where out of the gray churning waters. They had no warning of the Saxon invasion.
They watched her kinsfolk die around them until her father seized the only opportunity for survival and she urged him to take it. She had not the courage to die and he didn't want to leave the vibrant, strong and fiery woman he had come to love. He offered his scouting ability to them in return for his wife's life and his own.
The Saxon's had never employed the services of a scout before and they knew little of this land, only that it was a land that could come under their possession. Rome had fallen to men such as them, why couldn't Rome's colonies?
The accepted, with little grace, the offer of this man and called him traitor with glee. But this man had little choice of his betrayal.
Adapting to army life hadn't been easy for her. She was subject to innumerable horrors. She watched the slaughter of the women from her sister villages and was forced to turn her head being unable to assist them in anyway. Their dying fell on deaf ears. She had to tame and keep under control many of her personal qualities, in which indulgence she had taken for granted.
She was a willful creature so used to speaking her mind and living loftily above the common as was her right as daughter of headman. But her father was dead and she was soon to discover that she was little better than dirt here and to speak her mind was to lose her tongue. So she quelled her passionate persona.
Still she could have found life bearable. It was life after all. Eventually the Saxons would require her husband and her no longer and release them. Cedric had even sworn men against touching her. He found some revulsion in her race; as if a man of his army were to lie with one of them he would contract some hideous disease
She was to find out that deeds could be conducted in secret with her gagged preventing her from crying out. So she suffered the rape of the dirty bearded men of Saxony. Even the knight's son had called upon her. Such was the position of being the only woman in an army.
Her husband knew and could do nothing to prevent it though it pained him to watch his wife's body being used in such the way that it was. She however was becoming numb inside. After the first violation she hadn't cried. The torment welled inside her. Her eyes were clear but they hardened that night. So she became ice and her husband saw the change. She turned to glittering beautiful ice but cold and dangerous.
The only thing they had was a small tent of a man whom had died of some disease that was both lethal and sordid. She shared that tent with her husband. A small sanctuary in a pit of snakes. Or perhaps she was the snake and she was trapped by bears who could tear her apart and trample her is she didn't take care.
And so was life among the Saxons. How she prayed for death and feared it in the same prayer. So unable to abide the thought of passing away she continued to wander through this excuse of an existence. They still remained close to the water, waiting for supply ships to come before they could begin their march of domination and conquering.
She didn't cut further into her arm but let the blood fallen before it could clot. It was vital she caught it all in the water so she could hide evidence of her past time neatly and cleanly. It wouldn't do for her husband to find out what she did. He needed to be strong. He couldn't be preoccupied with a wife who was breaking inside. The thick drops slowed as they slid from the cut and clung to her skin for a few precious seconds, in an attempt to re-enter her body before launching themselves away to hit the now red liquid sparking ripples.
Just as the flow finished and she was about to bind the wound there came a summons.
"Ardiath?" a gruff voice barked. She didn't answer. The man knew she was within.
"Cynric wants you," The brute left soon after delivering the message. The words were like a sword piercing the grimy yellow folds of the tent and try and damage her heart. Hut her heart was clad in iron and her skin was ice.
The words bounced off her like sunlight reflected from a mirror. She had stopped feeling and reacting to such news very quickly. Ardiath washed her arm with clear water before binding it with an old bandage. Then she secured a small scarf around it to conceal the dressing from view lest it rouse questions.
She thrust open the tent flap and threw the bloody water to the ground. She then chucked the wooden goblet back in where it landed close to the pallet she and her husband, Joachim, slept. Ardiath found her worn cloak before pulling it tightly around her so she may step outside with some resistance to the biting cold.
The encampment wasn't a pleasing sight to behold. Burnt out campfires with rood remains littered the area. The ground was muddy. Most of the covering vegetation had been dilapidated away by the constant marching and disrespect of rough Saxon feet. The topsoil had mixed with the moisture of nature. The fog, the damp sea breezes and the infernal rain, which was impossible to escape. The muck already clung to Ardiath's boots.
The air was foully scented with the stench of human waste and the odor of men who had not bathed in a long time. Ardiath tried to breath through her mouth as much as possible though the air seemed to carry a revolting taste as well. The only pleasure Ardiath could find was the gray sea, frothing and in turmoil. It stood for one thing men could not claim and when Ardiath died, she desired nothing more than to have her body cast to the seas. But even the ocean would be lost to her when the army ventured inland.
Ardiath picked her way through the clutter of the makeshift settlement. Joachim was somewhere she didn't know but she expected she'd see him soon after Cynric had used her.
Ardiath came upon a group of men. She squeezed among their ranks to see Cedric staring down his son with the lazy threatening way he had. Cedric had just ordered a woman's death and Ardiath listened with a hard heart as the woman screamed before they were silenced swiftly.
Cedric whispered something low to Cynric. Ardiath couldn't catch what was said but she watched with interest as Cynric's face twitched with repressed anger. Finally Cedric turned away leaving resentment in his wake. It filled Ardiath with a bleak satisfaction that there was unrest in the Saxon camp.
Cynric huffed and in a fit of temper he hid from his father he stormed off, his furs whipping behind him. His shoulder impacted cruelly with Ardiath's. She stifled a gasp of pain and instead turned to follow him obediently like a well trained dog rather than a human being.
"He treats me as one of the low rank soldiers," Cynric burst out in anger once they reached the safety of his tent.
"If you want to challenge me, you have to have a sword in your hand," Cynric mocked his father's low rasping voice.
Ardiath didn't say anything understanding he wasn't inviting conversation but venting through ranting.
"I wonder if I'll survive to take my place as king," Cynric peculated.
And rightly so, Ardiath thought. Cynric was in essence the disappointing son. Ardiath couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like to be a source of contempt for your parents. She had been loved and smothered in affection by her parents.
As if just remembering Ardiath stood there he feverently grabbed her shoulders and threw her violently down on the pallet. He didn't bother removing her dress but rather crudely shoved it up her thighs with bumbling fingers. His eyes were full of malice as he mounted Ardiath.
He entered her violently and she kept her mouth clamped shut. She remained still and silent the whole time he jerked above her, somehow finding pleasure in this heinous act.
Instead she sought the blessed trance like oblivion, which was her much needed refuge. There she was in a place where she didn't feel Cynric's sharp agonizing thrusts. In fact it felt like she had left her body and was watching what occurred on the floor as though it happened to a different person.
Cynric reached the end of his lust and rolled off her. He was panting and sweaty. She lay frozen, no emotion on her face or in her eyes.
"Get out," Cynric hissed. Ardiath hastened to obey. Pushing down her dress before she fumbled outside. She crossed quickly to her tent.
The fires had been started up releasing a glow to combat the increasing darkness and the smoke stung her eyes and parched her throat. She dived into her tent, with the feeling of dread one of the men would grab her and abuse her body but they were not so bold as Cynric and didn't use her casually. So the soldiers only pulled Ardiath occasionally when they had been drinking or Cedric was far away and on these occasions it was groups.
Joachim lay on their pallet. He was on his back with his hands folded across his breast. His dark eyes flashed in the gloom and his ragged hair fell around his face. He held out his arms for her and she sunk into them gratefully. He held her close against his chest. The loved each other so absolutely and purely.
They held each other innocently like this for a while. They hadn't made love since they were captured. Neither could bring themselves to partake in it. Love was there but desire had been destroyed.
"They taunted me with Traitor," Joachim confided in his wife.
"Cynric asked for me today," Ardiath confessed to Joachim. A thick silence descended on the couple. They had both agreed not to discuss the going ons of when Ardiath was called.
Joachim didn't want the agonizing image and Ardiath didn't want to relive the memories though they constantly haunted her.
Joachim marveled at how his wife seemed to retain her beauty during this trial. Her ruby lips were tightly drawn but still lovely and her ebony hair glistened. When he had awoken from the sickness to see her face he thought he had died and she was a goddess and instantly loved her. When he discovered her humanity he had set to the task of wooing her.
The only part of her that was diminished was her blue eyes, which had lost their love and joy, though not their spark, and had frozen over.
'I'm tired, Joachim," Ardiath murmured. He felt her weary voice through her body into his. He pushed the black hair away from her face and kissed her forehead.
"Of course my love, sweet dreams."
"I'd be content with just peaceful sleep," Ardiath revealed her desire flatly.
And so passed an average day of Joachim and Ardiath, unwilling traitors of their country.
And so begins the tale of Ardiath.
AN: Hey with a new way of life winding down I thought I'd branch out a bit. You guys all remember the British scout? Yeah ok review. Ardiath is very different from Emile. Oh there will be knights throughout this fic but they appear later on. Don't worryI won't neglect to finish my other story. I just thought i see the response to this one!
MD666