"By tomorrow morning, your country will be mine."
"Over my dead body."
"Well, in that case, I'll make you an honest man."
She was a Demoness in disguise, who hid behind her wickedly equipped Flame lance and cheshire grin. Her black armor had always been a sight one couldn't avoid and any time a soldier called of her approach, it sent cold shivers down his spine. Not for the sheer atrocity she bragged of or of the rumors that the Daein King himself was intrigued by her flawless victories across the battlefield, but more so for the image she represented.
Years ago, when the two of them were mere soldiers, they often times ran into one another along the clear boundary between their opposing countries. She was always equipped with sharp words about his armor and of his 'light-hearted' attire- mocking his Halberdier status that he took quite seriously and with a great amount of pride. Here she was, riding high on her black-haired Stallion and reigning well above all of her troops; that wicked grin showing off her greater arrogance. Whenever the occasion arrived, they would fight like dogs back and forth between one another- making sure to keep on their side of the boundary lines. Although a few times, she tempted him almost too greatly and he caught himself just a step or two from the Daein territory.
She seemed to enjoy those temptations best for the sheer fact it meant that she was winning.
But as the years went by and the relations between Begnion and Daein began to get worse, so did their encounters. He was one of the Commanders picked to enter Daein and try to distill the uneasiness between them- a matter that was merely laughed at by the dark country's leadership and military alike. Their eyes caught on to one another's and he remembered that stoic sense of pride that laced her features; it wasn't until much later that he realized just why she had seemed even more arrogant than ever.
She had been picked to serve as one of Daein's Four Riders... a small group of fighters that were rumored to be strong enough to take on the entire Begnion army itself.
She was merely toying with his newly appointed seat as Commander of an entire regime, a promotion that had once seemed too far from his grasp. Here he was with nearly two hundred men underneath his control... and yet she had the entire army of Daein under her fingernails. After that short, yet brief encounter, he had been almost certain that she followed him all the way back to the borders once more; hiding herself somewhere around them and waiting until he was completely alone.
"I'm sure you're happy about your lower than dirt promotion."
Her voice was sounded to make him bitter and resent her further- a motion that he didn't need her voice to point out.
"I'm surprised they would pick a dirt-blood woman like yourself; Daein must have fallen on some hard times."
His response was just as quickly retorted back at her; watching as a slight sneer caught the corner of her lips- threatening him with another remark about his armor or pride. And yet, he only wished for a response, he only wished to rile her up and see how pissed off she could get. Her new position was still fragile and he wanted to see how much of it had gone to her head. She seemed to pick up on that though and remained silent for a few moments longer.
"Such an ugly mark to be tossed on a nice rack, I'm guessing you used them to get that promotion."
The words had just barely been spoken from his throat before he felt the hot touch of her lance brush against his skin; the sharpened tip tracing out a long path across the vulnerable flesh and feeling the way his breath trembled slightly at the sudden reaction. Those red eyes of hers seemed colder than before as she made her two or three steps across the boundary line and walked right into the Begnion territory with no hesitation.
"Watch your mouth, stupid boy." she sneered as she pressed her lance tighter against his neck; the tip of it just barely piercing the flesh.
"You're on Begnion's soil now and as such a 'high-ranking officer' as yourself, you could easily provoke our two countries into a war." he remarked; moving one hand up to push her lance aside- surprised she allowed for him to do as such. "Is that really a motive that you wish to finish?"
There was that brief moment where she seemed to consider his question and stepped away; pulling her lance back to her side before she moved to latch it onto the back of her belt so that it swung side to side across her waist. He was honestly surprised she would give up so easily... that was until her fist made contact with his cheek and followed through with enough force to easily knock him to the ground below; actually, the slight trip of her leg going underneath his own might've helped with that motive as well. The next thing he knew, she was sitting on top of him with her hands wrapped easily around his neck- her thumbs pressing down together on the center of his throat, making it harder for him to breathe.
"Yes, but that would only happen if they found your body." she sneered. "And I can assure you, they would never think to look in the places I'd hide you."
His hands were quick to grab a hold of her wrists and he managed to successfully pull one of them away from his neck. "Dead or alive, Petrine?"
She seemed to consider her answer carefully before she pulled her remaining hand away from him; she leaned back slightly so that she rested more on his waist now. The thought process that moved across her face would've been terrifying to any other man... even he himself found the motion to be less than comforting. Not soon after, that grin of hers appeared once more. "I think it would be far more suiting if I kept you alive, and then made you beg me to kill you."
"You witless wench."
She reached down and tangled her fingers in his violet-red hair; grasping tightly onto the short locks before she forced his head upward for a moment- only to quickly smash it into the ground below seconds later. "Don't tempt me again, Jarod. I will make you regret ever crossing me... I will show you what this marking has given me. You would find humility in the death that I would give you."
"Is that so?" he questioned; watching as her eyes seemed to flare up once more at his words. "I hope you can keep those words or I'll make you regret them."
"You're a hopeless soldier, do you know that?"
"I'm a soldier who regrets nothing, if you ask me... that makes the best kind of soldier there is."
"Then your death on the battlefield will be a glorious one."
And just like that, she got up and left; leaving him wondering just how many of her words and threats were worth taking into account. Yet, watching her leave like that, put a lot of it into perspective for him.
When the Mad King finally snapped and lashed out in a full-fledge War, he found himself on the frontlines once more. His lance ripping through flesh and spilling out enough blood to create a second army from their crimson pools- if only that kind of witchcraft existed to them. With every passing day, he was awaiting her appearance and waiting to see how far she had evolved from their last meeting. His post as Commander had been promoted twice and the regiment of men under his command had been tripled- he even had other Commanders serving his word.
Just how far had her 'Four Riders' position taken her? However far her breasts would've taken her, he always presumed.
And when that battle did come... it was horrific, heart- pounding, and the first close encounter to death he had had in a long time. But that's what made it so exhilarating and glorious just the same. To get the opportunity to watch her come dashing in through the battle like she was the evil Goddess herself... that was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see for some of his men. For him, it was something that had been long awaited.
She seemed just as eager to witness him in the same way.
Her horse thundered right by him and shook the ground beneath his feet; the tip of her lance left a long, burning streak across his armor as wisps of smoke escaped from the cracked metal. It was just a warning shot to let him know that she fully acknowledged him on the battlefield; had it been any other way, he knew she would've tried to take his head off at the first chance given to her. She was playing with him... and he liked it. There was nothing like having the thrill and panic of battle burning down the back of your neck, just waiting for someone to make the wrong move, just waiting to be that final hit.
Neither of them were willing to retreat but with more and more of their own men dying around them, it was inevitable that one side would have to step away. He would be willing to sacrifice all his men just to see that smirk get wiped off her face; he would be willing to bring more bloodshed to this battle than ever was necessary just to get close to her. But there was bound to be a messenger sometime soon who would come running through and ruin this battle by calling for a retreat- an order from a higher command that would like to see Begnion fall away from these Daein slugs.
"Waiting for your safety line to pull you up?"
Her voice could be heard from any end of the battlefield and even with the passing years, it still left a cold chill down his spine. His greater sense of agility pulled him free from her range and he watched as her horse went dashing by- not before the tip of his lance cut open the hindquarters of the four-legged animal; it was almost cruel to take satisfaction from the pained cry that erupted from the mount. When she turned back around, there was one of those 'go fuck yourself' expressions on her face.
"Waiting for your mark to prove to be some worth?" he snapped back easily; watching as it furthered her anger.
"Maybe you should watch your words instead of watching my rack."
Sure enough, there was a call for a retreat that echoed throughout the battlefield- unfortunately enough, from his side. The men were already pulling back before his call for it, but he didn't really bother with it- if they wanted to run, by all means they could go with their tails tucked between their legs. He would be lingering around for awhile more... although he didn't want them to get confused and think he was covering their coward asses or anything. There was a score he wanted to settle first and even with the color of Begnion's armor quickly dissipating from the battlefield, he wasn't ready to let it all go away now.
"Lady Petrine, should we give persuade?"
"No, let those dirt dogs escape for now- we'll just kill them later." she barked; watching as every form of Daein armor stopped dead at her words. "We'll return to base for now and get them in the morning."
He had to give her credit where it was deserved and watched as her men turned heel and followed directions as they were given; no doubt she had engraved enough fear into them, they wouldn't dare to try and cross her. But just as he imagined, she didn't follow after them and instead dismounted her still bleeding stallion. Those thin, blood-red lips curled up into that painfully evil grin of hers as eyes burned crosses into the back of his skull. She walked with that victorious sway, which swung the black armor that connected around her hips- seemingly emphasizing her rather attractive form- even for a dirt-blood. Fingers swung her Flame lance back and forth, leaving wisps of smoke to trail around the burning tip. "I'm surprised, maybe you're not the cold-hearted bitch everyone bragged so much about."
"Oh I still am." she assured. "When you wake up tomorrow with a burn on the side of your neck, that'll just prove to you how I function. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to extend this little 'reunion' of ours right? How does it feel that, even after all these years, you're still getting your ass kicked by me? Still getting your ass kicked by Daein, as a matter of fact. You must be so proud of your armor and so proud of your flag... and your army for that matter, where did they go anyways?"
A short chuckle escaped him as he moved to clip his lance across his lower back; taking note of how her eyes seemed to be carefully observing every one of his movements. "I guess you could say our Kingdom is far more sane when it comes to battles and wars- not quite mentally unstable as your dictator is. There's something else for you to take pride in, correct? I mean, only an insane man would think to put a Branded woman in charge of a classless regiment. I'm sure you're real glad for your Mad King."
She gave an equally short laugh as though to mock him and moved her fingertips to touch at the tattooed marking on her right breast, just barely revealed by her suggestive armor. "Always saying the same words every time we meet, I'm beginning to think differently of you Jarod."
"Is that so?"
"You always take the first opportunity to compliment my breasts, I don't see what else you could mean by it."
Her remark had been phrased incorrectly enough to make his stomach almost twist with the given words. A deep wrinkle formed across his brow as the corners of his lips tucked downward- ugh, even the thought of such was absolutely sickening. "You're just as disgusting inside as you are on the outside."
"Oh, don't worry, I don't kiss dogs." she assured with another quick sneer just before she turned heel and slowly made her way back in the direction her men had escaped in.
"And what is this? I didn't know it was my birthday?"
The sound of that shrill voice sent a cold chill up against his spine; stirring the hairs on the back of his neck. He didn't have to look up to know who it was or who that voice belonged to... not that looking up really would have mattered anyways. They were in the middle of crossing back over the Begnion border with plans to regroup with Commander Alder on the other side and await for further orders; the last few battles had gone on with little communication between the troops and the Capital... someone had to have finally noticed the misconnection because they were suddenly ordered to retreat back to Begnion at the first given chance. Yet, in the cover of darkness, they were ambushed on all sides and surrounded like cattle ready to be slaughtered. But, they were not so easy to be defeated and fought back with an equal sense of brutality just long enough for Alder's team to rush in as support. Most of the battle was a blur but he remembered hearing that ever-familiar thunder horse just before things turned from bad to worse.
He was more than certain he had been purposely singled out and attacked again and again until the forces overran him. After that, things went a little black but he remembered waking up in this... structure- that had been hours ago though. Since then, he recollected himself and figured out through subtle notes here and there on where he was exactly. As of this moment, he was stuck in the middle of the main base for the Daein army; tied to some creaky chair because they lacked originality and positioned so that his back faced the doorway behind him. This was pretty much the mold of a 'captive situation' but there was a lot of thinking that had been tossed out in the overall matter. For instance, the thick rope that bound his hands around the chair back was loose and the knots weren't even the least bit correct- he had already been working away at them for half an hour now and was almost done. Given a minor wait period of an hour or two, he'd be able to break the lock on the door and escape around the midnight hours, make it back to Begnion by dawn and act like he never missed a step.
And then she had to show up.
"Well, frick me." he muttered bitterly to himself as he listened to the sound of her boot coming in contact with the door; slamming it tightly closed behind her. The echo of her heavy footsteps slowly approaching him only furthered that chill until it felt like it was freezing his vertebrae.
Grinning to herself, she swung her lance around a bit before she moved to link her arms over his open shoulders; pressing the rounded midsection of the heated weapon against the curve of his throat with enough pressure to limit his breathing. She propped one foot against the back of the chair as she tilted it backwards just a bit. "You know, I can't believe I'm having such good luck today. I mean, first I get a personal compliment from King Ashnard himself and then a whole new shipment of weapons for my troops... and then this? I think the Goddess just might be proving that I'm her favorite out of the two of us."
"I think you meant to say that she just pities you." he replied before feeling the lance press even tighter against his throat, almost closing it all together.
"Soon enough, you're going to wish that I actually had the mindset that could register 'pity' and 'mercy.'" she easily retorted as she released him and took a moment to walk around the mostly empty room for a bit. "Well, you're a pretty good distance from the base itself... I'm sure no one would hear your screams. Oh, it just all feels so exciting, I don't really know where to properly begin with all this torturing business."
"Is that so?" he questioned with a light sense of false amusement. "Do list them out and maybe we could do a vote on them. I mean, I'm sure you'd like to break all my fingers or maybe skin part of my face off- better yet, you would probably enjoy taking off an arm or two. But that would be too rewarding for you, wouldn't it? You'd want something a little more challenging, a little more lingering... something to withstand scars and disfigurement."
A light chuckle seemed to purr from the back of her throat as she listened to him speak before she walked back over to him. Fingertips played with the tip of her lance before she moved to prop it up against the closest wall to free up both of her hands. Her mind was rushing with all the different options that were available at that given moment and how she could abuse this situation to its breaking point. "It's like you spoke from my mind." she mused as she walked around to step into his line of vision, taking note of how he didn't seem the least bit fazed by everything around him. One hand grasped at the olive-green neck piece that hung loosely against his chest and pulled it forward, forcing his body to move with it.
He didn't like how close she was getting to his face but watched as her attention seemed to break to something else; fingers easily untying the material around his neck before she pulled the fabric free and tightened it between her hands. "Well with how simple-minded you are- hey!"
She almost took too much delight in tying the material around his head in order for it to hinder his vision; ultimately blinding him in the situation. She kind of wished there was a second one she could use to gag him, although it would probably still be more fun to hear his protest instead. Her attention shifted to the tight straps around his arms before she moved to loosen them and watch as they fell away eventually; taking the smaller pieces of armor with them. They struck harshly against the ground below and created a rather painful echo with each one. She could tell by the tightened expression on his face that he wasn't the least bit happy with this engagement. Fingers moved to unclip the straps that hung from his belt and removed the long pieces of armor that had once curved down to protect his legs; pulling off the dark-green capes as well so that they draped over the sides of the chair. It was only when she went to remove his belt overall that he finally seemed to find the crossing point of her actions.
"I think I would much rather you skin half my face." he snorted.
"But that would be too rewarding for me, wouldn't it?" she quizzed as fingers grasped tightly onto his chin and tilted his head back. Her other hand finished loosening the dark-leather belt that had been tightened around his waist before she pulled it clean off. She toyed with the article for a bit as she pulled it tightly in front of her. "What was it you said about scars and disfigurement?"
He frowned once more at her words before he moved to push them from his mind. "Is this really what you're going to lower-" the feel of the rough leather making harsh contact with one side of his face was enough to completely cut his words from his tongue. His head snapped completely to one side from the force alone as an almost numbing sensation spread across the skin.
She almost had to laugh at how the cold buckle had managed to cause a long split to open up across his left cheek; small trickles of blood already starting to slide through the open flesh. "It could be worse. I could just cut off all your fingers joint by joint, maybe even cut off your nose if I wanted to. Horrible disfigurement and wounds... I mean, you would be begging for death by the time I was through."
"Let's go with that option instead." he retorted as he moved his jaw slightly just to make sure it was still intact. "I mean, if you start now, you might even get halfway finished before I get out of here."
Fingers tangled in his violet-red strands once more as she pushed his head back; leaning forward enough to trace the open wound across his cheek with the tip of her tongue. "Oh, isn't that sweet?"
As if she couldn't make him cringe even more, he was probably going to get some kind of disease from this interaction. The slight touch of her fingertips against one leg went unnoticed until she moved to squeeze the inside of his thigh- forcing him to draw in sharp intake of air at the sudden contact. "... I really hate you."
It should be a sin with how much she was enjoying this as her hand moved to grasp a more sensitive section of his anatomy; feeling his body slightly jump this time around. "Good, that way when you do make your escape, you'll remember this..." her grasp tightened to further his reaction. "And you'll remember that special kind of hate you hold for me."
If his urge to kill her wasn't large enough before, it had probably tripled its amount- and that wasn't in conjunction with anything else related that might've moved in size. He tried to keep his attention more based on working his hands free from the loosened ropes rather than on how her grasp moved between different pressure types. It was difficult as he held his breath in his chest and moved to work faster as he eventually managed to pull his thumbs loose and free from the binds. Slowly, piece by piece, he moved his hands but kept the rope in his hold to prevent it from making a sound and drawing her attention away. "I thought you said you didn't get involved with 'dogs?'"
"I said I didn't kiss dogs." she corrected as she moved to release his hair and watch as he tried to correct the position of his neck; earning a loud popping noise from the compressed and pained vertebrae. "And I wouldn't really qualify this as getting 'involved', it's more of a-" the sudden impact of his hand colliding with her throat was enough to cut off her words prematurely and cause her to pull away in reaction.
The sound of her heavy coughing was more of a reward for a collective conscious that allowed for him to hit her at the right time in the right place. He managed to get one leg between them and kicked her back into the wall in front of him, catching her off-guard for the second time. One hand moved to remove the makeshift blindfold from his eyes and toss it aside just before he continued towards her still recovering form. He grabbed at her neck once more before he slammed the back of head against the same wall, pinning her there as soon as he could as he closed the space between them; pressing one leg between the two of hers. "Fuck you."
"Oh you don't have to admit it, I already knew." she laughed as one hand moved to counter his wrist. "That's what you've been wanting to do since day one, isn't it?
"That's revolting. Why the hell would I ever want to lower myself to-"
"Fuck your country, your colors and your pride, Jarod."
"And do what instead? Fuck you?"
Her lips perked up slightly as those eyes of hers pulled into a long, narrowed appeal of a look. It was almost impossible to tell what the hell was going on in that head of hers... which was frightening to say the least. "That would really mess with your head then, wouldn't it?"
A harsh scoff left his lips as he brought the back of his hand across her face before he pushed himself away from her. "I'm sure that's just what you would've wanted; that kind of imagery is enough to make me want to kill myself. You can keep my armor as a parting gift and I might even share a story or two about you with Alders when I get back." He didn't even bother to look behind him when he heard her footsteps slowly follow after his own; even when he heard the sounds of her retrieving her lance from the nearest wall. She was just looking to make more trouble than was necessary for him... which was exactly what he wanted. The lance always emitted that ever familiar hiss when it was about to strike and that was the one thing that gave her away.
The small burn that ran across his lower back served as a reminder of a barely missed strike that he allowed for himself to fall into. He had managed to turn in time to grab a hold of the midsection of the lance and break it free from her fingers while his other hand grabbed tightly to her dark-green locks; twisting them between his own fingers, he forced her forward into an unbalanced pose and felt the way she seemed to half-fall against him.
He grabbed at her lips with his own and heard the slightly startled gasp that escaped her at the contact. There were all sorts of opportunities he could have taken in those short seconds but he decided to keep it simple and brief.
She had a look to kill when he finally broke away from her.
"What's it like to kiss a dog now?" he mused; catching the raise of one hand when she moved to retaliate.
"Not as sloppy as I expected." she spat.
Fortunately enough, even the worse of nightmares ended.
The Mad King himself had been killed and each of his Four Riders found themselves buried along with him. Their desecrated country had crashed soon after it had risen and left behind a long burden for everyone else to pick up. Corrupted, corroded hands picked up the pieces and crushed them into smaller segments- hoping for the country to never find its way back to its feet; it was like breaking the ankles of an already disabled man... doing it only for the sheer sense of entertainment to follow.
And yet, he easily watched how the former Daein soldiers worked day in and day out; both their spirits and bodies breaking down with every passing hour. It was the only way to ensure that the country never recovered and remained crippled for however long was needed. Three years had already passed now... but there was an eternity more to go through for these civilians; an eternity they would learn to regret and learn to hate their previous ruler.
There were rumors though.
Rumors of some kind of 'Silver-Haired Maiden' who would rescue and resuscitate Daein, who would bring it back to its former glory; somehow, she held this spirit and false excitement of how she would break her country from Begnion's grasp. He had only caught a glimpse of her a few scattered times, only able to spot her because of the crowd of roughnecks she carried along with her.
Rumors that she carried a darkened symbol on her hand.
Another Daein woman who carried both a symbol and a thought process of being mentally insane.
But this new 'maiden' would be nothing like her...
Because she wouldn't have let this country fall so hard; she wouldn't have let this country be broken and forced into unwilling submission. There would've been a rush of fear from her presence and her possible seat of ruling; she would've forced the rest of Tellius under her foot and let them taste what her boot was like. She would've made the rest of the continent scream out her name in unison- mostly in fear or just a shout of identity. Not like the way she made him scream it though.
Civilians were being killed in the streets by his men and he wouldn't spare a second glance to it; he didn't care for the carnage or even the pitiful screams that erupted underneath the force of his own weapon impaling through human flesh. Cities were turned into ghost towns as trading shipments were cut down and mostly eliminated. They were suffocating the country day by day... and yet while the prospect of someone rising against them would seem thrilling enough to anyone else eager to fight, it only made him sick to his stomach.
They wouldn't be like her.
No one could replace that sneer or that evil grin that crossed her face the same time those eyes flared up; it was always a bad sign of what was going on in that head of hers. He used to be an expert on her expressions and used to be able to nearly pinpoint each and every one of them. The few times he was wrong was proven by the faint scars that ran across his skin, shielding wounds she had been all too eager to give him.
He would follow those rumors though with the false hope that maybe this Maiden would possess even a minor fraction of her intensity.
A minor fraction of that Demoness he had fought against so long ago.