Title: Prisoner Of The Heart
Plot: AU WORLD. King Sheamus of Ireland was a cold man, a determined warrior, and the man who killed my people. I will loath him, I do not forgive him. But deep down I have another feeling about this man. Something that I can never admit to myself nor will I ever admit to him.
Disclaimer: This is based on a thread that my friend and I wrote for a few websites. If you think it's awesome, it's probably because of her because her writing is amazing.
Rating: M for mature themes, homosexuality (the main pairing is not but there are smaller pairings that are), and sexy time.
I: The Invasion
"Mistress Nolee we have to get away," my young hand servant Evan remarked as he tugged on my hand. My small village of Riverbrook had been ambushed by Celts and, fearing for the worst, Evan had led me to the mead hall. He knew that these people would take gold, slaves, and anything they could get their hands on because his village that he had come from had been attacked by Celts. We, my people that is, had taken him in and ever since he had been my hand servant.
Where are my manners? You don't even know who I am yet. I am Nolee Lacroix, leader of the small village of Riverbrook. Usually my brother Carter leads our village but he is currently off to war with his troops. That's what made our village so appealing to the Celts I fear. With no one to protect us, they think that they can overpower us. If there were swords still in our armories and not being used at war, I would disagree. I know how to defend myself. It was something that my father taught me before he left without another word. It's one of my only memories I have of my father, training with him as he taught me to use a bow.
"I cannot leave my people," I said, tugging my hand away from Evan. I knew I had to stand up for them as leader if my brother wasn't here.
"You will do them no good dead Mistress," Evan frowned, grabbing my hand again and tugging me across the large stone floor of our oak mead hall. He flung open one of the doors to head out the door, wanting to get to the horses we had right outside. Instead we were met by two large, burly men dressed in armor. They grabbed us, easily stopping our struggle.
"King Sheamus we found two more! And I think this girl is their leader," sneered the taller of the two men. His long brown hair was pulled into a tight braid down his back, his face painted in a blue color with strange markings. I fought to get free as I saw the man who they had called out to. The fabled King Sheamus.
I knew about this man. I knew that he often went around raiding villages just because he could. I knew that he had destroyed Evan's village that he lived in before he lived in Riverbrook. I knew that my brother had warned me to stay away from him because he was cold and heartless. What I didn't know was what he looked like. As he strode to me, the first thing that took me off guard was his skin. His skin was almost as pale as the snow that Evan and I were being forced to kneel on. It certainly stood out against his bright red hair and green eyes. He had walked over from where he was standing on the raised stone platform that looked over our village. He had no doubt been standing there to watch in glee as our village was destroyed.
"Well done Drew," he said, patting the brunette who held my shoulder. He looked at me and I could feel those cold green depths on me. I could feel his eyes boring a hole into my soul. "Yer right, she does fit the description I've heard." Then he looked at the shorter blonde who had a grip on Evan, "Finlay, take the boy over to where the other men have the rest of our prisoners." I glanced over at where they were taking Evan. They had other prisoners from my land in that group, all with shackles on their hands and all crying. I looked at the ground in front of me, not wanting to look up at the king who currently stood in front of me.
"What's yer problem inion?" I could hear his heavily accented voice but I kept my eyes to the ground. I felt a gloved hand reach out for my chin and before I knew it, my head was heavily being raised so that I could look him in the eyes. "Where's yer respect for an honored warrior such as myself? Ba choir a fhios agat nois fear a…"
I gritted my teeth as I was forced to look at the man, "I have no respect for a man who raided my village, a man who has killed good and honest men who were trying to protect their families, who will allow women and children to be sold into slavery. No I have no respect for an 'honored' warrior such as yourself, King Sheamus. And by the gods one day a man will kill you for your vile crimes." For an added insult, I spat in the kings face. I knew it was wrong but it was how I felt.
At first Sheamus laughed at me, "Oh come now, I never actually take part in half of what yeh said. It's my people that do…" he stopped when I spat at him, a dangerous look suddenly appearing in his eyes. "Yeh shouldn't have done that soith." He let go of my chin, slapping me for my apparent disrespect with his gloved hand. I felt the pain as he whipped his face, "Do not spit on me. Ever."
I cried out in pain from the force of the slap. My eyes welled with tears and I had to bite my lip to stop them from pouring from my eyes. "Do what you mean to do to me but make it quick. The steel of your blade sending me to the mead hall in the sky shall be welcome compared to what will happen to some of the men and women you captured…"
"Yeh really think I plan on killing someone like yerself?" he chuckled, "And here I was hoping yeh'd be smart." He nodded to the man behind me, Drew, who lifted me to my feet. Sheamus stepped closer to me as he looked me over, gently stroking a hand down the same side of my face he'd just slapped. He leaned closer to me, whispering in my ear, "Why would I let someone as beautiful as yerself go to waste?"
I shuddered at the feel of his warm, gloved hand caressing the stinging flesh of my cheek. "Wh…whatever it is that you are thinking, Celt, get the pig thought out of your head." I had hesitated at first for one reason and one reason only. My mother, father, and even brother had taught me that it was unjust for a woman to be with a man until they were wed. Seeing as how I had never been wed, I had never been with a man. And I didn't plan on it. Marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. I just hoped it was the farthest thing from his.
"Oh muirnin… I'm not a pig. Nor are my thoughts," he whispered, his hand still on my cheek. "You are from the Lacroix family, yes? I know all about yer family and their traditions." He stopped there, a smirk on his thin lips.
"My…my family and their traditions?" It had been years since I had heard from Carter and the last thing I remembered from my father was that memory of training with a bow. My mother had ran off with a young duke named David Bautista from Spain. But he had no right to speak about them. He had no right to mention them. With contempt, I asked, "If you don't mind me asking, oh so noble warrior how do you know of my family traditions and what do you know of them?"
I hope you enjoyed chapter one. Please, read and review!
Irish translations
Ba choir a fhios agat nois fear a- you should know better
inion=miss
soith=bitch
muirnin=sweetheart