Title: Lurking in the Shadows
Author: Rhion
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He wasn't a nice man by any notion of the word. In her eyes he was little more than a robber baron, some goon who overthrew those around him by cunning and might. And he had a terrible temper.
Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue. Put those freakin' lawyers away...
Genre: AU, Suspian. Angst, romance, and happy endings.
AN: For emeraldteardrops... I got a Dark!Caspian for you... Hopefully this'll get the Beastly juices flowing. Wait... that may be an odd choice of words.
AN2: Think of this story as SuperDark!Caspian meets Shakespear while in a large porn store... While they both have mega boners. Susan is entertained by this fact and decides to take to her part like a duck to water. Shrewish and horny. Yeah. Caspian's not really complaining.
AN3: Just give it a chance. Trust me, it's worth it.
WARNING - there are dark themes, and characters are not necessarily what they seem at first. Give this a chance and you won't be disappointed. This isn't some easy love story though, so be warned. Caspian is a dick, but he's got good reasons. Again, all I ask is that you give it a chance. If after the first few chapters you decide you hate it 100 then flame me all you want. But please, just give it a chance.
Besides - Dark!Caspian's guarunteed to make you need new well. Nevermind that.. Just bring a drool bucket. And some Kleenex
Susan had no idea how she'd gotten here. Well no, that wasn't true - but tripping and subsequently rolling down a hill didn't seem like a good explanation at all. Then again, hadn't she been reading that book Alice In Wonderland? Maybe this was all a dream much like poor Alice went through. That's it - that's what it had to be. It was the only explanation for this strange place. Currently she was trussed up like a pig (which was a great indignity and if she weren't gagged she'd be giving them all a piece of her mind) while hanging from a pole slung over the shoulders of satyrs. Or maybe they were fauns - she was a bit rusty on her Greek mythology. All of which was neither here nor there, because despite the fact that she kept reassuring herself that this was little more than a dream brought on by bad canned meat from her sandwich, she couldn't get away from the fact that her hands hurt. And her face - from where a dwarf had smacked her. Or the fact that she was dizzy from hanging at such an odd angle, her weight jerking on her wrists and ankles. Dreams didn't hurt, at least not this badly.
"What is this?" it was snapped, a man with a foreign accent came to a halt, grasping her chin forcing her to look up at him. "Interesting, where did you find her Nikabrik?"
The dwarf - Susan assumed it was a dwarf, he had a huge beard, and barely came up to her waist (and she as pretty darn short herself), and seemed to live up to every description from fairytales - bowed low before speaking. "Your Highness she was wandering around muttering near one of the springs."
He was tall, his skin dark and sun-baked, and as he leaned in Susan got a whiff of sweat and horse, "You are not Telmarine, nor are you Narnian. Archenlander perhaps, though your colouring is off." With a jerk he tilted her head this way and that, examining her, "I have never seen someone so fair with dark hair and eyes the colour of sapphires." Sighing, the man straightened up, "Nevermind anyway, I have not the time to question her at the moment."
"What would you have us do with her m'Lord?" Nikabrik jabbed Susan in the side with a long finger, grinning, "I'm sure the lads could figure out some fun for her."
Now that frightened her, and renewed her struggling. Susan may not know much about boys, but she'd heard enough stories about men - particularly soldiers - to last her a lifetime. That.. and satyrs and fauns according to Greek mythology - well she remembered enough of it to remember that being at their tender mercies wouldn't be good at all. The man who was in charge turned to look at her once more, head cocked, then with a snort gave her a lazy backhand that made her see stars.
"She would be ruined if left to you, I may have time for her later. Send her to my quarters," hanging, dazed once more, and now unable to fight.
Never in her life had she been hit so many times in one go - even when she'd broken the large antique mirror that belonged to her mother and had had to go outside to pick her own switch. So never in her life had she been treated like so. Huddling as best she could while being hauled through the cavernous hallways, torches lighting the sandstone and granite of their route, Susan just didn't know what to do.
Unceremoniously the fauns jerked the pole from her bindings, but still left her tied up.
All she could do was glare evilly at them as they left her heaped on the floor. Wriggling around ignoring her aches and pains, Susan tried to figure out how to get out of this mess. If this was a dream maybe she could change how things were working by positive thinking.
Several hours later positive thinking hadn't helped one iota. She was still stuck with her wrists and ankles bound, and she really had to pee. Not only that but Susan was incredibly tired, she'd been walking home after a particularly nasty day at school where she'd gotten detention for no understandable reason. All she wanted right now was to be home, making dinner for her siblings in the grungy little house in Finchley. Curling up into a tight ball, she was too fatigued to fight the tears that had been threatening to fall for the last while.
So engrossed was she in being miserable that she didn't notice the scuff of a boot, or the jangling of armour, until it was too late. A hand clamped on her shoulder, rolling Susan over, and there he was. The man who'd had her thrown into this room, who'd hit her, and who stank of sweat, wine, stables and leather.
"Wonderful, a sniveler," he sounded bored, black eyes in his dark face, accented words - he was everything she'd thought a villain should be. "I am going to remove the gag - but if you start screaming, crying excessively, or generally irritating me - I will replace it. And it will come out of your hide. Do you understand? Nod if you do."
Shivering, Susan managed a nod.
"Good," and the filthy cloth was finally removed. "Now -"
"I need to pee," interrupting. At his glare, Susan started to get angry, but something about him advised her against it. "I really do..."
With a growl, she was lifted upright and drug over to a corner where a bucket was sitting, then he knelt long enough to unbind her feet. Susan just stared at the wooden bucket. He gave her a shove, "If you have to go, go, this is not an inn where your comforts are seen to."
Looking at the bucket then back at him, dawning horror on her face, "Ugh! That's disgusting!"
Muscle ticking in his jaw, "I do not have patience to deal with this - if you soil yourself I care not at all," a hand like iron clamped back around her arm, as he started to drag her once more.
"Hey! Fine - I'll do it your way you barbarian!" digging in her heels. In response his hand rose as it had earlier, and she shrank in on herself not wanting to get hit again. "I'm sorry, I'm just... not used to this. I'll behave."
It didn't stop him though, but she had a feeling the blow landed more lightly than originally intended. Tears stung her eyes at the pain, and it was humiliating going to the bathroom in front of him, even though he did have enough manners to turn his head to the side. Straightening up as much as she could considering her still bound hands - and the lack of amenities - Susan cleared her throat waiting for her apparent jailor to do whatever it was he was going to do. Though the thought did enter her mind that maybe if he knocked her out she'd wake back up in Finchley and realize that this was all due to a concussion. That'd be nice. On the other hand she didn't think inciting further abuse was wise.
"Hmph, now, where are you from? Who sent you?" his grip was like a vise as it went back to the same place on her arm, as though she bore a sign that said 'Strangle My Arm Right Here Please'. "The penalty for lying is not pleasant," his tone brooking no argument.
Biting her lip, "I'm from Finchley and no one sent me."
"Did I not just say that I will not tolerate lies?" his voice harsh. Cringing, expecting another blow, instead what she got was slammed into a rough hewn wall, lifted so that her toes were barely on the floor, fingers digging into the column of her neck, cutting off air, "Things will go easier if you tell me who sent you."
Spots floated over her vision, then his fingers relaxed allowing her to gasp for several breaths, "Not.. not lying!"
"You must like pain," muttering, and Susan found herself picked up and thrown several feet. Sprawled on the ground, and her tormenter was over her, squatting as he looked down, hand in her hair, yanking it as he forced her back to arch, "I can keep this up longer than you can hold out on information girl. My suggestion is to come clean. Who. Sent. You?"
"No one!" sobbing. "I come from Finchley, no one sent me..."
This didn't seem to sway him at all, it earned her no pity, and another strike landed over her face. The process was repeated - pick her up, slam her to a wall strangling her, then throw her and smack her around - several times over. And each time Susan still had no other answer for him but the truth. It wouldn't do though, and if she just knew what she had to say to make it stop - she would say it gladly.
Water was thrown over her face, bringing her back from the temporary blackout she'd had, "Who sent you? I can keep this up all night. I have warned you of this many times. So far, I have been going lightly on you because you are a woman." He gave her a shake, "But shortly my patience will run out, and I shall employ more persuasive measures if need be. This is your last warning girl."
Whimpering, Susan just cried, choking out, "I don't know.. I don't know..."
Snorting, "Miraz probably told you I was weak. Well my dearest uncle was wrong," raking his fingers through his shaggy dark hair, "I do not take mercy upon spies - be they female or male. Adult or child. All is fair in war girl, and I am not the weakling he thinks. I will reclaim my throne." His dark burning eyes bored into hers, "Even at the expense of women and children. If that is what he sends, then that is what I shall kill."
"I still don't know..." too weak to do more than whisper it. Maybe death would be a relief at this point. Susan had never experienced pain in her life - up until that time she had thought the worst thing was her monthly, which would leave her doubled up in agony puking and tired. This though was different, her whole body felt bruised and battered, she was dizzy and the room kept spinning, she didn't have any fight left.
She must have passed out again, because she awoke in pain, but it was mostly quiet, still tied up, and still in that nightmare place. Swallowing she whimpered as she tried to move, to find a less painful position. Before she could shift much, something cold was pressed to her throat, making her eyes snap open.
"So you are awake. Now, who sent you?" he was unbearably close, and she realized that the cold thing against her skin was a long wicked looking dagger.
"Look no one sent me, if you're going to kill me, kill me, I'm too tired to deal with this anymore," unable to summon tears or anything else except resignation. Closing her eyes, Susan waited, then there was a creak followed by a curse.
"You think I will not do it, is that what it is?"
Wriggling until she was a little ball of misery, "I don't care, I don't know where I am, I don't know who you are, why there are mythic creatures everywhere, or anything. Just... stop hitting me or kill me already. I don't care anymore. I just want the pain to stop."
"I barely even laid into you, but I am wondering if more creative methods will work..." muttering.
"Whatever I don't care, do whatever you want you damn barbarian," it came out empty and there was no spite or heat to it. Susan just wanted to go home.
"Where is your home then girl?" she didn't think she'd spoken aloud.
"I told you – Finchley. In England. It's a big island off the coast of Europe. You know - Europe?"
Silence, "Finch-lay? Eeg-land? Urope? Where are these places?"
"Are you simple as well as barbaric?" huffing softly, eyes still closed. The lack of blows was unexpected, so Susan gathered up the energy to open her eyes once more. King Asshole - as she thought of him now - was sitting there, legs crossed, holding his chin as his brows were drawn low over his midnight black eyes. Scoffing at him, "Apparently you are simple. Is it hard for you to think of a response to that other than striking an unarmed woman?"
"You do realize that most would kill you for such words?" it was stern. "I am the crown prince of Telmar and Narnia, and you have the audacity to insult me. Interesting - you are either incredibly brave or even simpler than you accuse me of being."
"Oh that explains everything, you're some moron prince. That's rich," summoning the strength to turn her back on him. "I always wanted to meet a prince, and the first one I meet beats the tar out of me because he's too stupid to know the truth when it knacks him in the balls."
That must have been too far, for he snarled, and Susan found herself being pinned under his weight, hand at her neck, "You will not speak to me thusly!"
"Or what? You'll hit me? Defenseless little old me? Real princely of you, real brave. Does that make you feel manly?" hissing. "Threatening little girls get you off? Go rot in hell King of the Assholes." Susan didn't have a clue where the spitfire came from, she could be harsh when she wanted, but she was so damned tired that even having the strength to breathe was hard. Yet she was egging this obviously deranged and violent man on as though it were little more than a game. "Well news flash Dickless Wonder - you've already done your worst, and even if you have the brain power to come up with something more creative, it won't work. There's nothing more to tell, there's nothing more you can do to me. I already want to die, and I already don't give a shit. So why don't you remove your filthy hands from me and go rape a goat!"
Surprise overcame the rage on his face, and he recoiled as though struck by a brand. Sputtering, his grip relaxed further on her throat, "You.. you...!"
"What? Cat got your tongue? Go away! Or do your worst, it won't impress me. You've already proven you're little more than a pathetic nitwit!" snapping at him softly. For all the lack of force to her voice, the disdain poured from the words, "It's obvious that the better part of you was an unpleasant stain on the sheets of your parent's bed on the night of your conception."
He practically hurled himself up and away from her, snarling to himself as he stomped from one end of the room to the other.
"I should kill you - but you would like that would you not?" his breath was coming from him in short bursts, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I could throw you to my men, or take you myself, but again you would like that would you not?"
"About as much as I'd like you to sit on a spear and spin," sighing, then studiously went about ignoring him.
Hours or minutes later, Susan didn't know, couldn't know, she kept losing time, she came awake once more. Still on a cold stone floor. And still in pain. The stiffness was the worst. After the Crown Prince of Asshole Barbarians had finally ceased his pacing, Susan had gone to sleep, just trying to find some escape from the horror of her day. Yet now she was aware again, and still hating every minute of it.
Wiggling around she decided to take stock of her surroundings - maybe if she got enough energy to, she may be able to escape. On a pallet of straw - lucky bastard - her tormentor slept, the hilt of his sword grasped loosely in his hand. The blade was naked, and she thought he really must be an idiot - who the hell would sleep with a bared blade? Then again her opinion wasn't very high of him. After all he beat on lost girls. In repose though, his face lost much of its cruelty and he came close to looking innocent. He twitched periodically, a soft whimper issuing from his lips. For a moment she almost felt sorry for him, he was obviously in the throes of nightmare, but with each intake of air Susan was reminded to feel no pity for that monster, because each breath brought her a flash of pain.
With a great deal of effort, Susan managed to sit up, raising her bound wrists together so she could better examine the ties. Peter had taught her a few things about knots when they were younger as they played, and she'd found herself bound on several occasions. And of course Peter eventually learned that his little sister would give as good as she got, and he'd stopped picking on her at some point. Frowning, despite the pain that caused from her split lips, Susan sighed in exasperation, then set to work on the ties with her teeth. She was most of the way free when her jailor sprang to his feet, sword point flicking in the air to press to her jugular. Susan had never seen anyone move so fast.
"Attempting to get free? To kill me?" it was soft.
It was her turn to growl - she couldn't stand it when boys tried to intimidate her, and as a girl she'd gotten into enough scrapes over that to know that that was what he was trying to do, "While it'd be nice if you just stopped existing, or if somehow you managed to up and die, no. Killing you would be messy and annoying. And more effort than slime like you is worth." Scooting back from him enough to chew at the knot a bit more, mumbling around it, "But yes I am trying to get loose. I'm sick of being tied up. You're a terrible host you know, your mother should paddle you for it."
"My mother is dead, and you will not speak ill of her," whacking her knuckles with the flat of his sword.
Susan's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, "Oh that's just it!" regaining her feet with a fumbling struggle, she brought herself up to her full height - just over five feet, barely coming to mid-chest on the prince, "You are an ill mannered, disgusting, stinky, rude, horrid, ass! I don't care if your mother's dead - it doesn't give you license to treat me like this!" Taking another step, ignoring the point of his blade that he held poised to run her through, calling his bluff enough so that he backed up minutely, "There are no words for what you are! A menace, an idiot! A barbarian! A jerk! Or how about this one, see if it fits - a selfish prick who knows nothing about anything, who should just take that shiny stick and shove it up his goddamned ass! But whatever you do, just leave me out of it, because you're less than a waste of my time! You're worth less than the spit it's taking me to insult you! You just had to go and piss me off didn't you!" with each word Susan waved her bound hands about, following him as he slowly backed away from her. Glaring mightily at him, "Why don't you just do everyone a favour and kill yourself? It'd save the world time!"
"You have backbone I will give you that," his voice lashed at her, "and you are somewhat amusing. But do not think that that allows you leeway -"
"Lee-way? Gives me lee-way? Oh that's just rich, he thinks that I don't have the right to put him in his place," tipping her head back, speaking to the ceiling.
"Enough!" shouting at her, "What will it take to silence you, you evil shrew?!"
At least he had the brains to realize that gagging her wouldn't work - she had a truly evil glare she was told, one that could peel paint. That took Susan aback though. She hadn't thought he'd think to ask something so simple. Half of her had thought she'd have driven him to kill her by now. Mouth opening and closing Susan tried to figure it all out, then, "I haven't eaten, I'm cold, I'm tired, and I want you to untie me!" Nodding briskly at him, "That'll do for starters."
Releasing a harsh laugh, "Food is reasonable enough, but there is no way I shall unbind you."
"Why not?"
"Because you will try to claw my eyes out, and killing you would make an awful mess of my room," shrugging philosophically.
Saying as sweetly as she possibly could while fluttering her eyelashes, despite the fact she was sure she looked like a bruised raccoon, "Well of course! Why ever wouldn't I do that? Seeing as you've yet to give me one reason not to do so at the first opportunity, your Barbarian Lordshipness?"
He ignored her, walking to his door and opening it, "Hitastik - bring some food for the prisoner along with my breakfast." The door slammed shut afterwards, as he turned to look at her, gesturing, "Be my guest and help yourself to my pallet then. Just keep quiet for a few seconds." With that he proceeded to shuck his brigandine and shirts, revealing a body that was covered in terrible scars.
"Oh goodness..." jaw dropping. She'd never seen something like that in her life, and he shot her a perturbed glance and went to a small basin of water, splashing some of it over himself as though to get somewhat cleaner. After that he ignored her, but Susan couldn't stop staring. All over his back and disappearing into the top of his pants, long thick white lines, some freshly scarred, some long healed, in layers to a point where there was little skin remaining that had been un-abused. Her lips trembled in sympathy at the agony he must have gone through. About his chest there were others, more ragged, some that looked as though his flesh had been torn in great flaps.
All of them looked to have healed badly. No one should be so beaten and gouged.
"See something you like?" it came out cold and arrogant as it broke through her reverie. His face was hard, and then he was standing in front of her, crowding her, and Susan was practically face to face with whatever kind of life he'd had, the evidence painting his flesh. He leaned in close, nose not far from hers, "If you are good I may let you touch them."
Disgusted at him for his attitude, "Not even if you were the last living thing other than myself in the world! Ugh!" But it lacked the sheer venom she'd spewed at him earlier. She couldn't help but pity him. Turning her back on him, Susan walked away, towards his pallet debating what to do from there. Yes she was tired, but he had ordered food brought. Sighing she flopped down on it anyway, deciding to wait. From the corner of her eye she watched as he moistened his face, drawing the wicked knife he'd threatened her with earlier over his skin. Wincing, Susan had a hard time looking as he scraped stubble from his cheeks, neck and chin. While he was rinsing the blade, "What's your name anyway. I could keep calling you Prince Dickhead, or just Asshole, but I have a feeling that there're more men like you around just as deserving of the title. So, just to keep it all straight - what do you call yourself. And try to keep it light - because there's no way I'm going to call you 'King Magnificent Manly Wonder of All Henry' or whathave you."
"Caspian," tilting his face to the side, making a pass over one of the major veins in the neck. Susan couldn't contain a cringe at it, what if he slipped? Everyone would think she'd killed him if that happened...
"No title of Prince Caspian Lord of All He Surveys?"
Caspian flicked his gaze over to her, "I thought we had a deal?"
"A deal? I don't remember a deal," wishing she had something more to wear other than her damaged school uniform. She was still cold.
"Yes, the one where you shut up, and then get fed and get sleep," patting his face dry. It was a marvel he hadn't nicked himself even once as he'd shaved.
Susan shrugged, while eyeing the cloak that was tossed at the foot of his makeshift bed, "I still don't recall there being a deal." Pointing out reasonably, "At least I'm not yelling at you. That should sooth your miniscule ego."
Setting his jaw, Caspian redressed, then pinned her with a look, "I could simply cut your tongue out."
"Oooh promises promises from the big man," snarking. "Does that mean I get to cut off your penis? Oh wait - that's right. You don't have one." Caspian shook his head, but before he could snipe back at her, there came a knock at his door.
Caspian went over the supply lists brought to him by Glenstorm, debating. There were only so many raids his troops could pull off successfully, and their numbers were slight compared to the amount of men Miraz could bring to bear. Sighing, rubbing his temples, ignoring his captives presence, Caspian wanted to pound his head into a wall. Maybe that would alleviate his headache. Throwing a glance in The Shrew's direction - he still didn't know her name, and he didn't want to, he frowned - it would please her no end if he bashed his brains out.
"Are you going to keep shifting and huffing like a two year old? I'm trying to sleep," his bane grumped from beneath his cloak.
Four days, four days he'd been more than accommodating to her. She was his captive, and even if she didn't know anything about where she was - she had to know something of general value. Yet finding anything out from her was nigh impossible, though he was tempted to smack her around a bit more, see if that would loosen her tongue. Though that hadn't done any good the first time around, her constitution was so weak she'd blacked out on him quite a few times. Obviously she was a pampered thing, even more so than some of the whores who held titles if she couldn't handle a bit of a beating. Biting his tongue, Caspian refrained from giving her the satisfaction of a fight, he didn't have the energy.
Where did she come from that she'd never been beaten? Eegland, Urope - these were odd names. Mayhap these kingdoms would welcome the Narnians? Truly Caspian wasn't fond of this whole war thing, but it had to be done. His uncle had fired the first shots to this war, and Caspian would see it through to the end. With Miraz's head on a pike. Even so it was a nice thought to think of a way to shelter the rest of his people, now that the Narnians were under his protection - besides where else would he get an army?
Pressing his forehead into his palm, Caspian let out a short growl.
"Again with the noisemaking, some people are busy trying to be miserable and sleep here," when he threw her an irritated glance, he saw that she'd bundled up in the thick wool until just her nose and eyes were showing.
"All you do is sleep," snapping.
She huffed, "Well if someone hadn't been so slap happy and beaten the stuffing out of me, I wouldn't need to heal so much! Besides," peeking more of her face out, "it's not like there's anything for me to do. You haven't untied my hands yet."
Her very fair skin still showed much of the evidence of his blows, even though they'd been bare taps in his opinion. Turning around, leaning his elbows on his desk, "You could still service my men. That would be something for you to do."
"Oh Mr. High And Mighty, please don't promise such great rewards, otherwise I fear I'll start to like you!"
"I do not care if you like me or not, woman, I am not here to make friends. I am trying to lead an army in a war," letting his head fall back, eyes closed.
Rustling as she moved around, "What is this war about anyway? You said something about someone named Miraz, and you mentioned being a prince. Are you really so wonderful that you think you're more qualified to lead than this other man?" More movement, more rustles, "Because from where I'm sitting you don't seem worthy at all - what kind of leader beats someone for no reason?"
"I barely even hit you," grunting. "And it was for a reason, if you were a spy I had to find out what you knew."
Quiet stretched for awhile and he thought she may've fallen back asleep, "So you believe me finally? Then you should let me go. I just want to go home Caspian."
"If you are a spy you are either very good or very bad at it, that is what I think." Finally opening his eyes to look at her, his head lolled to the side, ear pressed to the top of his shoulder, "Where is this Eegland and Urope? What are the troop capabilities? Are they hostile? Do they seek to invade?"
"I told you it's England and Europe. Europe's a continent, with many countries. England is an island nation, and frankly they wouldn't want this place at all - its' filthy and terrible. Just like you," it sounded worn out. For a moment Caspian worried that he may have actually done her real harm, she shouldn't be so tired still, and she shouldn't sound so weak. "Besides, they have their own wars to deal with, why bother with a bunch of ingrates like you?"
Groaning Caspian got up, deciding to think about his supply lists in a little bit and went over to her. There was a tiny cringe from her when he was close enough to touch her, but she hid it well. Reaching out, Caspian tugged at the cloak, trying to get a look at her state. Her chin came up like she was about to resist but his look of warning hopefully got through enough for her to realize she better not push him right now. No protests came from her until he started to unbutton her shirt to see if there was heavy bruising or not - if it was only faint he knew he wouldn't have to worry, but if it was too dark it could mean internal bleeding.
"What're you doing?!" straining against his grip.
"Stop fighting," focusing on the small buttons and holes - he'd never seen their like before, and they were difficult to unhook due to their size.
"Then stop trying to undress me," whacking at his shoulder with her bound fists.
His eyes skipped up to hers, dismissing her, "You do not have anything I have not seen before. So stop fighting, I have no interest in bedding you. It would be a waste of time."
Her bottom lip trembled in leashed fury and no small amount of fear, "Then why are you taking my clothes off?"
Frowning when he saw what lay beneath her shirt - she wasn't wearing a corset, just some odd scrap of cloth, "Assessing damage. You should be stronger than you are, more recovered. Not so tired." Out came his dagger, and he proceeded to cut the rest of her shirt off. There were yellow and black and purple molted bruises everywhere. Chewing his lip, Caspian noted that there were no scars on her at all, just the harsh contrast of contusions and fair white skin. "No wonder you are such a bitch," mumbling.
"Excuse me?"
"You have never been disciplined properly, look at you," jerking her around so he could eye her back, "smooth as the ass of a babe. Not a single scar. Hmph. Again, no wonder you are such a bitch, you never learned your place."
It was whispered, "No one whips their children to teach them. It's barbaric!"
Caspian's fingers dug into her shoulder, even as he continued his survey, "You are awfully fond of that word. And is it not what you refer to me as? Your people are soft and useless it seems, only good with words." But her skin was very soft, like silk beneath his calloused fingertips.
To that she had nothing to say, but then, "You were whipped?"
"Of course," grunting as he pressed on a nasty bruise to gauge her reaction. The muscle didn't feel spongy and that was good, but from her sharp cry it had hurt.
"Twice a week, more if I was being difficult," so far it was the only one that may bear watching, and Caspian continued, pushing on her shoulder so her back muscles tightened. "It helps one become a man." She said something but he couldn't have heard her correctly, "What did you say?"
"I said I was sorry," a bit louder.
Puzzled, "Why?"
Her face turned to look at him, "No one should be beaten like that. It's cruel. It... it must've hurt alot. So.. I'm sorry you went through that."
Not liking the feeling her words brought up, Caspian pressed another contusion, punishing her for pitying him. Finished with his inspection, Caspian wrapped her back in his cloak. Brushing his hands off, he started to turn away, saying, "Your wounds are not great, you should be well enough in a while. In fact you are just fine as is, so maybe it is time to find a use for you."
"Um... hello. You shredded my clothes."
"So?" picking the sheaf of paper up, finger sliding down the side of the words as he mentally checked off each thing.
"So - I'm naked," huffing.
"You are covered so why should you care?" the wood of the camp chair squeaked as he sat heavily. "And we are alone in my chambers, so again - no reason for you to worry." Not that he gave a damn. Besides maybe feeling exposed would break down more of the barriers she had up. She had to have a use, had to have information. Otherwise she would not have been found so close to the line of his camp.
So - you've given it an initial chance. I know I'm asking alot of you, but please, go onto the next chapter when it's posed. If you like it already, good. If it's made you uncomfortable - this is also good (yet I'm sorry too), because this is not an easy story. If you're undecided - just wait. And if right now you hate me, hate the story? Take a deep breath, and listen, just... give it two more chances. I swear that things will make sense. Honest.
So - you've given it an initial chance. I know I'm asking alot of you, but please, go onto the next chapter when it's posed. If you like it already, good. If it's made you uncomfortable - this is also good (yet I'm sorry too), because this is not an easy story. If you're undecided - just wait. And if right now you hate me, hate the story? Take a deep breath, and listen, just... give it two more chances. I swear that things will make sense. Honest.