Karma
Disclaimer: Not mine.
WARNING: While there is no actual graphic sex scene in this fic, people will be having sex, and there are themes of rape. If you don't want to read that, don't read this. As I said, there isn't graphic sex, but this deserves a high rating for a reason.
Foolish humans.
Even now, she couldn't stop the thought from passing through her mind. That had been a part of her life for less time than had passed since it ended, but she still wasn't able to think of herself as quite the same. Those homeless creatures wandering the icy stone streets, those painted women peering out from behind curtains nervously as they waited for someone to enter their lair – they were weak and mortal.
She was not.
She'd faced death numerous times and survived; faced the wrath of God and lived, with her dignity intact. She'd used countless humans in her game, and even some immortal creatures, and ruined some and threw the others aside. She'd had such power…
And then, she'd fallen.
It was not hubris. The only fault was that she had been born into such a position, and facing a power greater than her own.
Even now, five years later, she remembered the feeling of death sweep over her – the first stroke to open her soul, and the second to cut it away. And suddenly, she was not the manipulator anymore, but a girl. A normal girl.
But she had her pride. She had never given that up.
A breath of wind blew past and the cold seared through her thin snow-white dress into her flesh. She shivered involuntarily as it enveloped her for a brief moment, then moved on. Her fingers trembled, reaching for her cloak to pull it closer. She'd felt the cold then, too. It meant nothing. Nothing.
But… She really should find a place to spend the night. She was quickly running out of money from what she'd found in the ruins of her home mere months ago – how had it taken four years for it to be destroyed? yet it did not change the fact that the last physical fragment of her old life was gone – but it would cost her little to find a room in this small town. There must be an inn somewhere – ah, there – the sign above the door with a fancy name engraved, but it couldn't be anything else. She could stay there.
The cold seeped through her shoes, too, but she ignored this and kept walking. It would be warm inside.
As soon as she pushed open the door, she regretted her decision, however.
The smell of alcohol had permeated the room to the point where she knew it would smell like a bar even if completely abandoned. The vast majority of patrons were completely intoxicated, and a number had passed out onto tables and chairs. The quiet noises she'd heard from the inn had apparently been the snores and drunken odes, masquerading as conversational chatter. One conscious man had a plump young barmaid sitting on his lap – her dark hair covered her chest, which was plainly bare and – oh dear – she shielded her eyes; even if they had not yet gone as far as they could, there was relatively little flirtatious banter compared to physical contact.
Bile rose in her throat, she did not want to be here. But where else could she go…?
In her observation of the couple she failed to notice the drunken man lurching towards her until his hand was on her waist and he was spinning her around to face him. She recoiled in disgust; the man's breath stunk of alcohol! On top of that, he was dirty, and his face held a lecherous grin. She shivered again, and not because of the cold. The drunk reached out a hand to stroke her long black hair, getting his fingers caught in the inevitable snarls. When she flinched, he laughed – a guttural sound that reminded her of a pig – and drew her closer.
"Pretty girl," he breathed to the top of her head – she had turned to face away from him. "Won't you stay with me tonight?"
"No, I-" She elbowed him in the stomach, and he staggered away, moaning in pain. As he reached out to grab her arm, her eyes caught sight of a fractured candlestick, the wick burning brightly. How familiar, she thought. It must be fate that allowed such a thing to save her so often. As he pulled her closer yet again, she drove the sharp jagged end into his arm, wrenching it around to widen the wound.
He screamed. She yanked the candlestick fragment, still burning, out of the flesh and backed away.
The fierce look in her eyes was that of a murderer.
"I will not let myself be defiled by you," she hissed.
And suddenly she realized that he was intoxicated – he was irrational. She'd never faced someone without thoughts, without fears before; how could she manipulate someone who was completely unpredictable.
With a roar of anger, he charged at her. Her fingers clutched the candlestick tightly, but she was frozen – she could do nothing but stand and watch, eyes wide in fear, as he came towards her.
He was close enough to touch her when spots of red blossomed on his chest.
And he was falling – down, into a table –
three knives in his chest.
It was not the sight of blood, or the corpse, that made her legs numb and collapse from under her. As she reached the floor, she felt warm hands reach under her arms and support her, pulling her up against a warm body.
It felt… nice. Her cheeks flushed red, unsure of the proper reaction to being saved. It was an unfamiliar experience to her. As she turned around to see the face of her rescuer, she felt those hands grab onto her wrists and his chin nudged her face forward. She was trapped, yet strangely enough, she felt no fear.
"You should be more careful, little lady," he whispered in her ear. "There are dangerous people out at this time of night."
"Then why are you here?" she responded. Her voice was surprisingly calm.
He smiled against her hair. "It's my duty. Besides, who says I'm not a dangerous person myself? I killed that man." He nodded towards the corpse.
"Killing does not make one a bad person," she said softly. She had never let go of that conviction.
"Doesn't it?" His hands moved quickly, pinning her arms to her thin waist. "But how would an innocent young lady such as you know that?"
She turned slightly, towards him. "Who says I'm innocent?" she demanded indignantly.
He chuckled lightly. "I'm sure you know less about the world than you think."
"You'd be surprised." Yet it was she who was surprised, when she finally saw his face. Those once-emotional green eyes were full of mirth now, yet it was colder than she remembered. Still, the red hair and the patch over his right eye – it had to be him, that Bookman apprentice. Lavi, that was his name. She hadn't seen him in years… he'd aged very well, becoming even handsomer than he once was. Handsomer… the colour on her cheeks darkened, making it easier to mask the shock she had felt.
"You say you are experienced, yet become flustered at the sight of a man's face?" He raised an eyebrow and gave her a mocking look.
"A… a different kind of experience." She had intended to lie, yet as soon as the words escaped her lips she realized how advantageous her situation was. Here was a man whose heart she had already toyed with… how much could he have changed in five years, in personality? He believed her to be a strange young woman; it would be remarkably easy to manipulate him into… into…
It was not surprising to her that she no longer needed a reason for her behaviour. It was a part of her personality, as protecting friends or the achievement of power had been for others she had once known. Her purpose in life was the game that she played, the never-ending toying of the lives of others. It had not changed even with the loss of open power.
She had a different kind of power now – the power of her beauty.
"Indeed," he murmured. "Surprising, though, for such an attractive young lady."
"Thank you." She raised her gaze to meet his, willing her eyes not to betray her plans. "Although I have never met a man as handsome as you, stranger. Perhaps that has played a role?"
His lips twitched upwards into a satisfied smile. "Then shall I teach you the ways of men, fair lady?" His hands slipped away from her arms, one resting on her hip while the other caught her hand and raised it to his lips. She shivered involuntarily and cursed her body for its weakness. He grinned.
"Please do, sir," she whispered in a low tone. And, as he turned, their hands still enclosed, to lead her away, she could not help but smile.
As before, he had fallen into her trap.
They had barely made it inside the empty room when he slammed the door shut and locked it, then turned to her. She gave him a calm stare in return, standing in the middle of the room and doing nothing. He smiled.
"Now that I look at you, you really are a very beautiful young woman," he muttered, eyeing her. For once, she chose not to think about what was on his mind; she knew enough of men, and him in particular, to know that it almost certainly related to her without her thin white dress. "You're not underage, are you?"
Oh, he was worried about that? "I have recently turned eighteen," she said, with an edge of indignant wrath in her voice, but not enough to turn him off. "That is old enough, is it not?"
"Still so innocent…" She gave him a questioning glance; he shook it off. "It's nothing. There was a woman I loved, once – this is probably the wrong time for it," and it was, as he had removed his shirt and was reaching towards the buttons of her dress, "but you reminded me of her. Just a little, nothing really, but you both have that fiery personality at times, yet mostly calm." She slid her arms out and pressed the material to her chest; he removed his shoes. "Maybe it's the hair. She once had hair like yours – long, dark and silky."
"What happened to her?" She really was genuinely curious. If it was that woman…
"Oh, nothing." He waved her question away and tugged her hands away from the dress, letting it fall to the ground. "She was younger than you are now when she became an adult, that's all."
"I am an adult." He looked at her serious face and laughed.
"You're still innocent. Don't fool yourself."
"Less than you think; I told you that."
His fingers were pulling at his belt, loosening his pants.
"You aren't now – but you will be when I'm done with you."
He pushed her back on the bed and claimed her lips as her eyes fluttered shut and her hands reached up to clasp his shoulders…
The sun had not yet risen by the time they were done. He separated himself from her and lay back on the bed, exerting a satisfied sigh. Holding the covers close to her as she had once done with the abandoned dress, she sat up to look at him.
"What are you thinking," she murmured to herself, yet he still heard and looked up at her quizzically.
"That you have a gorgeous body." He smirked. "Perfect, absolutely perfect." His fingers reached to pull away the material pressed against her once again, but she turned away, embarrassed, and jerked the fabric from his grasp, shaking her head. With a shrug, he lay down again and turned away.
It was time, she thought, to think of a use for him - a permanent income? A travel guardian, until she could find a place for her manipulations to be used? Yes, perhaps that – a kind of bodyguard, subject to the desires of his body that only she could grant. She turned back to him, letting one hand fall down to touch his arm and the other loosened her grip on the bedcovers as they slipped down her upper body.
"That was an… enjoyable night," she said in a low, seductive, yet natural tone. "You must be very experienced at this kind of thing." His cocky grin allowed her to continue. "I… I'm a traveler, seeking to go to London – if it isn't too much out of your way, would you…" Her eyes were wide, in a contrast to her voice. She was aware that she was the exact image of a beautiful young girl with a crush, the kind of woman no man could resist.
And indeed, he was no different. "Why, that happens to be exactly the direction in which I am going. I assume you are asking for company along your long journey?"
"…Yes… I don't intend to impose on you, but I'm very lonely." She turned away slightly with a feigned look of embarrassment. "Thank you."
He smiled pleasantly at her. "The pleasure is mine."
There was a moment of calm silence until she remembered a key item – "Ah! I can't believe how foolish I am – I forgot to ask your name, dear stranger." Of course she knew it already, but she could hardly tell him that!
Immediately, the look on his face changed. "It's Lavi. Just Lavi."
"An interesting name," she breathed – and was suddenly forced down onto the bed as he rolled on top of her. One hand clasped her wrists above her head and the other rested on her bare hip.
"But you already know that, don't you." The look in his eyes was dangerous.
"No – no, I've never seen you before." She struggled vainly against his strong grip; she had viewed his strength firsthand five years ago and was fully aware that she could not combat it with her own. "You're hurting me."
A tear fell down her cheek and he brushed it away with his free hand, then moved it back to her hip, and then over her stomach and down again. She tensed, suddenly uncomfortable.
"Don't lie."
"I'm – I'm not-"
He cut off her protests with a bruising kiss, biting her lip when she did not respond. The tears were flowing faster now, and she was nearly in convulsions with her struggles – he was forcing her legs apart – his tongue was invading her mouth –
"And I know who you are."
Her eyes were wide with betrayal as he whispered in her ear.
"Road Kamelot."
His hand, still damp from its previous location, muffled her screams throughout the night.
Road, I am so sorry. Really.
Chapter 2 coming soon. This is entirely complete, and in five parts, so I'll post one… every few days, I guess.