Azgeda peace offering
Chapter 1
Freya woke groggily to the sound of heavy footfalls, resonating off of the cold stone walls of the corridor. While it took her mind only the fraction of a second, to remind her of the immense pain coursing through her body, she needed much longer to realize what had woken her up in the first place.
She bit back a groan of pain, as she slowly forced her body to move. She had been passed out on her side, back facing to the small door of her cell and she needed to get up now.
The sounds of the footsteps got louder increasingly, indicating that someone was nearing her cell. Her small cell was located at the end of narrowed corridor, so whoever moved in the direction of the door, usually came to see her.
Freya fleetingly hoped, that it was only the guard shift taking place, but she could not detect any footsteps moving away from her direction.
Black dots began to invade her field of vision, as she slowly forced her body into an upright position. Bitter bile rose in the back of her throat, at the feeling of the skin on her back tightening with the movement and she could also feel fresh blood trickling down her back.
Freya contemplated forcing herself to her feet, but getting into a sitting position at all had been strenuous enough, that she highly doubted to succeed without passing out in the process.
She waited in anticipation for the footfalls to finally reach her door, supressing a shudder at the high probability of having to face her mother so soon again. Her heart rate was increased and Freya desperately tried to calm her laboured breathing. She knew, that her mother would not change her plans, no matter in what condition she already was in currently.
It took only a few moments longer, until the familiar sound of an old rusty key being turned in the lock to her cell, alerted Freya to the impending visitors; she had recognized already that the footfalls belonged to two people and not just one.
The door to her cell was swung open forcefully only a second later, connecting with the stone wall in a loud clanking sound. Freya winced at the noise, but she tried to keep her expression as calm and stoic as possible.
Her breath caught in her throat, when she truly came face to face with her mother.
Queen Nia of Azgeda had an ugly sneer on her face and her blue eyes hardened as she gazed down disdainfully at her own daughter. She did not share much with her daughter when it came to their looks, only their eyes were identical. Nia's eyes narrowed down at her daughter, lips thinning at finding the girl still sitting and not standing, like she had taught her to long ago.
With two big strides, Nia had crossed through the small cell and forcefully hoisted Freya onto her feet, hands gripping at her frail arms roughly. She did not let go of the girl's arms immediately, pulling her daughter closer to herself instead, so that they stood face to face, barely an inch left between them.
Nia's eyes were hard and her voice sharp as she addressed her daughter "You know the plan, Freya, if you fail…" she paused, her eyes glinting dangerously "…you shall never return to Azgeda!" she threatened.
Freya's blue eyes widened slightly, but she had difficulties to concentrate on her mother's harsh words. The pain which raged through her body, had only increased due to her rough handling and she bit the inside of her lips strongly, to somehow contain the pained whimper wanting to escape.
Over her mother's shoulder, Freya could spot Ontari, the nightblood girl her mother had been training for years, leaning against the door frame coolly, a smirk plastered on her face and the glint within her dark eyes told Freya easily, that the other girl was enjoying the display of her obvious torment.
"Do not show weakness now!" Nia bawled Freya out, giving the girl a slight shake and visibly making her wince "You have disappointed me enough already, Freya…"
Freya dropped her eyes to her feet immediately, knowing better than to argue with her mother. She knew from past experience, that it would only aggravate the woman. She nodded her agreement meekly; her mother rarely expected her to verbally give an answer.
Nia let go of her daughter's arms, only after she had pushed the girl into Ontari's direction "Escort her to the warriors on the courtyard, they are to leave immediately" she addressed the nightblood girl in a strict tone.
Freya stumbled strongly at the unexpected push and had to steady herself against the wall to keep her balance.
Barely a second later, Ontari had inclined her head to the queen and grabbed one of the princess' arms in an iron grasp, pulling her out of the small cell roughly. She did not particularly care about the other girl's obvious problems to walk straight at the moment.
Freya stumbled behind Ontari almost blindly, breaths heaving strongly and with every step it felt as if a white-hot blade was pushed between her shoulder blades and retracted again a second later.
She did not know, how long it took them to reach the courtyard, but Freya feared that she would pass out, before they even left her mother's fortress. She had absolutely no idea, how she should survive the long journey to the capitol. She was aware that a fever was already building in her body and the journey would take them at least a week, if not longer.
Freya barely noticed how Ontari handed her over to one of the warriors waiting to bring the Ice princess to Polis.
Ten warriors had been assigned by the queen to bring her daughter as a kind of peace offering to Polis, to be offered in a union to the commander.
Freya was powerless to contain her exclamation of pain this time, when the warrior forced her hands behind her back, binding them together with a rough piece of rope. She would have argued with him about the senselessness of her being bound, if she had the energy to open her mouth and the mind to formulate words.
She did not even fight it, when the warrior forced something down her throat, before she was hoisted into the saddle in front of the warrior.
The last thing Freya noticed before unconsciousness enveloped her senses, was that fresh snow was falling to the ground softly around them.
As a child, she had always loved the sight of fresh snow. Being allowed to play outside in the snow had always been a highlight to her. She could still remember times, when even her mother had joined them. But those times had been rare and she had always been closer to her two brothers and her father.
She had grown up with the conviction being instilled in her that Azgeda was the strongest clan, meant to rule over the other clans.
Now, that they had a Trikru commander ruling over all the clans, her mother could not accept that. Her father and older brother had died in a battle between Azgeda and Trikru three years ago and Freya's life had changed tremendously since then.
Her mother had never been overly kind to her and their relationship had been strained from the beginning. She knew that her mother had always preferred her brothers, seeing a daughter as a weakness, not able to ever reach the strengths of her brothers.
The loss of her oldest child and beloved husband had hardened Nia beyond recognition. If Freya had thought that her mother had been strict and sharp with her before, she had been surely mistaken. A harsh word had quickly turned into a slap and a slap into a beating as a punishment. But soon punishments had not been enough any longer and Freya had been confronted with violence as her new form of education.
She had originally been trained as a warrior, like everyone had been, actually alongside of Ontari. But the nightblood girl had one day managed to truly siege Freya, breaking one of her wrists in the process and while Ontari's training had progressed and the girl had grown stronger and more violent, Freya became weaker.
It had only taken a few weeks of Freya losing all of her combat matches and her mother had decided that continuing her training was a waste.
Roan had been her only salvation back then. He had smuggled food to her, when their mother had her being starved as a punishment and he had sneaked to her room as often as possible, keeping her company through the long hours of the night.
Her life had only turned down-hill a few moons ago and she had quickly lost all sense of time. Lexa kom Trikru had not retaliated. Freya knew that her mother had sent the head of the commander's lover to the commander's bed, but the commander had still accepted Azgeda into the coalition.
Freya's punishments had lost all sense and boundaries after her mother had been forced to sent Roan to Polis. It had almost seemed as if her mother had begun to enjoy physically punishing her and Freya now carried the scars to proof that on her skin. She had not been allowed to leave the small cell anymore, being confined in it, day and day out, only ever seeing her mother and occasionally Ontari as well.
Freya was not consciously aware of time passing during their journey.
The warrior, who was sharing his horse with her, had not spoken a single word with her so far. He forced her to drink something occasionally and Freya strongly suggested that the brew was spiked with some sort of narcotic and something counteracting the infection which had sat into the wound on her back.
She knew that her fever was rising and it became increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open for longer than a few moments at a time.
The warriors who were functioning as her escort seemed worried by her condition. They feared that the princess would perish before they reached the capitol. They knew that a death sentence would be awaiting them, if they did not deliver her to the capitol alive.
So, they hurried their pace along, forcing the horses nearly to their limit.
Freya only noticed their progress by the changing surroundings. The snow began to melt around them and she could spot more and more trees.
She had never been so far away from her mother's fortress before and the villages they passed, were all unfamiliar to her.
Freya had only ever heard reports before that the villages closer to the border to Trikru were doing poorly. Her mother did not find it necessary to aid them.
But what she saw, when the neared the border were in fact flourishing villages. Freya heard from one of the villagers that they had been successful in establishing trade with Trikru, it was going slow, but apparently the villages were doing better and that without aid of her mother.
Within the last village before they would truly leave Azgeda and cross over into Trikru territory, a healer looked at her. The healer may have given everything in his power, but he was not able to bring down her fever, without removing the cause of the infection, which he could not.
Freya was told there that they would need two more days to reach the capitol. She had actually looked forward to seeing the capitol and she still carried a small sliver of hope, that she would see her brother at least one more time.
But as the hours passed, Freya was feeling more and more weak and faint barely able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at the times before darkness claimed her again. When the group finally reached Polis, Freya was unable to really enjoy it much, her mind too clouded by fever.
The warriors who had escorted her to Polis, were held back at the base of the tower. Freya looked up at the tower for a moment, feeling dizzy at the pure height of the building. It seemed that quite a few buildings from the old world had survived the bombs.
Freya felt her breaths once again quickening in anticipation, during their journey, she had averted thinking about what awaited her in the capitol as hard as possible. But now that she was standing in front of the tower, being confronted with what appeared to be only Trikru warriors, she could not control her fears any longer.
She was well aware of the fact that most of the warriors were glaring hatefully at her. The scars, typical for Azgeda, etched into the left side of her face, gave her origin away on first glance.
A snippet of the memory of the markings being done in the first place flashed through her mind. She had been around six summers old back then and she had winced and whimpered with every cut, it had hurt much more than her brothers' words had made her believe. Roan had sat behind her and she had held onto his hands as hard as possible. Her mother had thrown a fit, when she had seen the design. The scars, usually rectangular patterns, had been made to look almost floral on her light skin and Freya had instantly loved them. She shuddered lightly, when she remembered how the one who had marked her skin, had lost one of his hands at the hand of her mother in punishment.
Freya was jostled out of her thoughts, when rough hands grabbed her upper arms, forcing her into a door at the basement of the tower, which promptly fell shut behind her. She tried to contain the hiss, at the painful grip and she looked up at the general pulling her further inside.
The general, easily recognized by her specific armour, had sharp features and her brown eyes looked at Freya, narrowed down in obvious distrust, a sneer resting on her face.
Freya did need to concentrate all of her will power on keeping her breathing as steady as possible and she bit her lip strongly, trying to contain her sounds of distress, when the general felt along her dress, searching for hidden weapons. She held her breath in frightened anticipation when the general's hands wandered from her legs upwards, sweat began to slicken her palms and Freya was not sure if it came from the fever or nervousness. She could let out a quiet sigh of relieve, when the general stepped back a moment later, brown eyes still narrowed, not having found anything suspicious and grasped one of her arms again, pulling her into a small room.
"If you try anything…" the general growled at the Ice princess "…I will take great personal pleasure in gutting you myself!"
Freya looked at her with slightly widened eyes and meekly inclined her head in consent, hoping that no verbal answer was expected of her.
The small room revealed itself to be an elevator and Freya absentmindedly wondered just how it worked, but she let the question go as soon as it crossed her mind, she had bigger concerns now. She could feel her strengths waning quickly and she was fairly certain that she would not be able to remain conscious for long. One of the warriors had forced her to drink something just before they entered Polis and whatever it had been, had roused her to at least some semblance of alertness, but Freya could feel its effects already wearing out.
She could feel the weight of the general's vigilant stare resting on her bowed head and she tried not to fidget in place, hearing her mother's harsh orders resonating loudly through her mind and Freya began to tremble slightly.
Weeks ago, Freya had been convinced that death would be her only salvation and she had even longed to finally take her last breath, but now that she was only moments away from facing the commander, the only urge she felt, was to flee. But she knew, that it would be pointless to attempt to plead for her life.
The ride in the elevator was over, before Freya could truly give into her rising panic and she tried to steady her erratic breathing, as she followed the general through a narrow hall, which was flanked with six pairs of guards.
Her head felt heavy and dizziness clouded her vision, as Freya stumbled behind the general the last few meters to the entrance of the throne room. She did not have the time to let her gaze travel through the room before the general had turned in front of her and forcefully shoved her onto her knees. Freya managed to catch her balance only by shouting out her palms or she would have fallen over.
It took her a moment, before Freya could raise her head and her eyes immediately fell on the commander. Although she knew the woman to be of a similar age to herself, Lexa kom Trikru appeared to be the epitome of power. The commander's youthful face was smeared with black war paint, making her green eyes even more piercing in their intensity.
Freya swallowed thickly, having to force the words out of her throat "Queen Nia sends her regards…" her voice quivers and she feels bile rise in her throat, making her fall silent immediately, lowering her head and hoping not to throw up now.
She had minutely let her gaze flit over the others gathered in the room. Most of them had visibly been marked as Trikru and all of them had glared at her, a mixture out of pure disdain and suspicious distrust.
The commander's expression had been weirdly blank and Freya had not been able to pick up any kind of emotion in the other woman's green eyes. She had spotted the roll of parchment her mother had sent with her, containing a message to the commander, in the leader's fingers.
Lexa regarded the Ice princess with the hint of a frown. She had expected to be faced with a highly skilled assassin, masked as the queen's daughter. After what Nia had sent to her before, she was naturally suspicious to receive anything from the Ice queen. The older woman had only begrudgingly agreed to have prince Roan banished to Polis, giving Lexa at least a small bargain chip over the queen. It was perplexing that the queen now freely offered her last child to her.
The description, Roan had given her a few days previously, when word had reached the tower of the impending arrival of the princess, mostly matched with the girl. Although the man had not directly voiced that his younger sister was not a fighter, it had still been obvious in what he had not said.
Lexa narrowed her eyes suspiciously, when she noted how sickly the girl's complexion was, her skin seemed clammy and her eyes were glassy, wondering internally if the Ice queen had simply opted to sent a disease to her throne.
She could see with a deepening scowl, how the girl seemed to shrink into herself, before she suddenly fell over, obviously unconscious.
"Call for a healer!" the commander ordered loudly, remaining on her throne. If Nia had truly sent a disease to her, she should not touch the girl. Her eyes shortly flitted to Anya, knowing that the general had searched the girl personally.
Her former mentor's brown eyes were narrowed as well, a frown etched into her features.
Indra, who stood beside her throne, together with Gustus, immediately muttered that it would be advisable to kill the girl now and to burn her body now, before whatever she was ill with, could catch someone else.
Lexa shook her head slightly, something the prince had said to her, halting her decision. She had gotten to know Roan as an arrogant and aloof character, he had barely baited an eye at hearing that he would remain a political prisoner in the capitol. But for some reason, he had almost pleaded with her for his sister's life.
The arrival of Nyko halted her thoughts and she watched on with a deepening frown, how the man bent down beside the girl, placing his hands on the girl's back and side, trying to turn her around, only to pull his hands away and look at them with a flash of horror passing over his features. The healer's hands had come back coated in blood.
Lexa stood from her throne, "Treat her!" she repeated her command sharply, seeing hesitation in the healer's face.
The man nodded and sliced the girl's dressed open with a dagger, he gasped harshly, taking a small step away from the girl's unconscious form.
Lexa stepped closer and her eyes widened at the sight. The other girl's back was littered in deep wounds and scars, showing clearly that the girl had been subjected to repeated physical torture, but the wound which had caused her dress to be saturated with blood, was horrifying.
A small sheath, containing a dagger, had been sewn into the flesh under the girl's shoulder blades. The wound could not have been older than a few days and it had obviously caught an infection, pus and blood ran from the thick sutures. It was apparent that the flesh had already begun to die by the stench and the dark colour of the skin; the princess' dress must have been heavily scented to mask the smell.
Lexa absentmindedly wondered if the prince had known of the treatment his sister had obviously been subjected to. The girl had appeared too meek and frightened, to have agreed to this on her own free will. She had seen the effects of torture before and the princess' body spoke of long moons of harsh torture.
"Take her to one of the lower rooms and treat her." Lexa repeated her command more softly. A few guards came over immediately to carry the girl's body down and the healer fell into step beside them.
Anya looked the most troubled, as she had missed the dagger on the girl. But who would search for a sheath sewn into another's back? The girl had been physically too weak, that Lexa was certain that even taken off guard by the dagger, the princess would not have succeeded to assassinate her with it.
She had never thought much of queen Nia before, but who in their right mind, would do something like that to their own flesh and blood.
Gustus' expression was unreadable; they had agreed beforehand that he would be the one to bond with the girl as Lexa had no intention to enter a bond with the princess. But the situation had obviously just gotten much more complicated, than either of them could have anticipated.
