*Hope I got rid of most, if not all errors in this piece if not- oops! Second fanfiction ever written but first to be published. Italics without these " " surrounding them mean inner thought process of protagonist or emphasis if you're new ;) I'm trying to improve my sloppy story telling as well. Also in advanced, this chapter is heavily based on adult themes and content. I would advise that only ones with mature mentality to read this chapter. It is sad, but it is real. I don't like to censor things around grim but real topics...*
Chapter One: 1185 CE Summer in Jerusalem
On the coolest nights laying on the brimming edges of Jerusalem's rich district nestled a rather comfortable miniature-like palace. At times when I could not bare to sleep I'd listen to the gentle trickling of the fountain from my window. A small square of a window, that I could only slip my head through and to invite the tepid breeze in. Though I adored it still the way it hung right over my bed like my guardian filtering all of night's offer. But I haven't had one of those nights return to me when I beckon it so. Restlessly rolling around in my bed during a hot, sticky night I finally stir to hear a clay pot crash to the floor. I mumble under my breath while pulling the soft imported cotton sheets away from the bare flesh of my legs. I had risen too quickly as my head spun and my vision blurred momentarily. My milky night gown draped loosely over my shoulders; edges of the sleeves coming to my palms I clinched them into fists. But I froze hearing a mixture of a French conversation. My father, the wealthiest merchant in Jerusalem other than the church, never spoke a word of French.
"Do not harm us please!" The iridescent voice of my mother pleaded. Creeping to the doorway of my bed chamber I looked out into the living room. Seven strange men was the total, in the silver chains and white robes of armor towered over my delicate mother. From the candles they illuminated the symbol of the church's honor- a red cross. "Where is my husband and son?" my mother whimpered.
In French they exchanged, "We have taken care of them, now... her," they greedily itched at the hilt of their blades ready to strike my mother. I swallowed trying to disregard my mother's sobs. I found my knees buckling at the sight.
"Is there anybody else here?" A man asked leading the group of pigs. He took off his helmet revealing his baldness he smacked my mother with his helmet. I stifled gasp as my mother's body flung back in a sickening heap curled into a ball upon the floor. She cradled her new cut with her slender fingers restoring to her graceful position legs folded under her, back straightened, her courage was numbered in persistence. The men chuckled and sneered at the sight of my mother's bleeding cheek and lips that ran like the excess water being rung out of a wash cloth. "Search the rest of the house," the man ordered to the six.
With that I scurried to my nightstand with two fine silver and incrusted ruby daggers with my first name carved in one and my family's name carved in the other ready, I tucked one each up my sleeves with the tip of the blade at my wrist. I would like to think of them as my prized possession though my mother insisted I would learn how to belly dance instead of perfecting on wielding a blade. Hugging my back to the wall in cold sweat behind my wardrobe one of the Frenchmen entered. His chains from his heavy armor rattled to his footsteps.
He walked over to my bed, "another woman awakens," he snickered in French scarfing the smell of my incense off my sheets. But cloaked in shadows I crept up behind him letting my ring and middle finger release the tip of the dagger forward. I would manage to wrench tightly knowing when to grab the blade at the proper time. Twirling it around in my hand for fashion until I had a fine grip on the hilt I projected the dagger cleanly in his neck. His body slumped over on the side of my bed soundlessly.
"Run my son run!" my mother wailed but it was too late. By the time I saw what happened my brother had been impaled by one of the church's knight. He looked up into the man that had slain him shaking and twitching the knight ruthlessly ripped his sword out like Velcro painfully tearing the flesh. "Majeed!" my mother cried hysterically while we watched my brother lifelessly hit the floor with a chilling thud. The last of his movements, the last of his memories shouldn't have been what they were. His last glimpse of life into a stranger not the ones he loved.
"The last one," a knight clasped on to the crown of my hair thrusting me forward close to my broken mother. I sprawled onto my back with the remaining men looking down on me. One dagger still up my sleeve with five men to kill... who was the most important?
"Natasha... Natasha," my mother outstretched her arm stroking my tousled dark chocolate hair pitifully. She murmured a pray that oozed a lofty lullaby, a ring of hollow resonatingchime of church bells.
"We took care of Al Salfi and his bastardy son. Now we shall claim the rest that he owns..." the bald man hissed in French. When I looked up sourly into the black eyes of the man my throat was greeted by his cold steel.
"Comment vous appelez-vous?" I asked distastefully.
"Ah, and why would you like to know?" surprised and delighted that I could speak French so smoothly.
"So I can tell all the people of Jerusalem whose neck was claimed by my hand in dagger," I whispered. Swiftly avoiding his immediate hit with my right hand pivoted around his incoming arm, I swiped out my dagger from my left hand attempting to slash at his soft neck. But he splayed the dagger out of my hand nearly severing my ring finger...
"Hah," his breath licked at my cheeks while he wrestled me underneath him, "know this name by your nightmares child," I felt his eyes burning down my neck and chest, "Robert de Sable."
I didn't scream or cry but I didn't know how long it lasted. It was just me and this filthy animal who called himself Robert. But it is indeed important to my memories that I tell you everything in this cause and effect. Robert had me by the waist and neck. He laughed as I tried to wiggle out from under him like some earth worm.
"What did you do to my mother?" I hissed as he had some struggle to keep me under him.
"That's not important my child," with a dirty rough hand he grabbed at my jaw pinching my cheeks and squeezing my lips together. He leaned in trying to peck me on the lips with his. I jerked and kicked myself free saving me from a furtive kiss... if it was even to call it that. I squirmed not letting myself be defeated but nothing seemed to work as he used his weight to hold me down.
"I'll kill you for this!" I spat saliva on his chin. A good shot the opaque saliva strung at the pointed chin syrup. He slowly wiped away the dripping spit then slapped me hard in the cheek with the same hand. I only swallowed in response.
"No doubt that you'll try," he cackled while ruffling up the skirt of my nightgown eagerly. I tried to kick flailing my arms around but he had a fatal grip on my neck. Ensnaring me like a snake I froze from the lack of air. I glued my legs shut as he tried to pry them apart. When his hand failed him he drew out a short blade. My eyes followed the sting of every strike. Not once did I scream, cry or beg him to stop. He sliced into the soft flesh on the left side of my torso. He ruthlessly bore it deep while carving a sinister red cross. "Imagine," he said in French, "you'll just be another thing that I'll conquer by the morning." My eyes widened as I tried to detach myself emotionally as I knew what part was coming up next. The pig slithered his way in between my legs. It threw the short blade far away from me so I couldn't pull anymore tricks up my sleeve.
Only silence followed for the longest of times. I didn't wince at the pain or back talk him I just laid there helplessly like the eighteen year old girl that I was. The other church's knights took my mother into another room and I hadn't heard any noises of protest in a while. I curled my nails into the painted stone with my head looking off to the side. The desolate room was filled with this pig's grunting, moaning and heavy breathing. My inner thighs sticky and wet from the blood. My only real power as a woman, that worked on every man, was gone. I felt myself tense up as my head moved up and down on the cold stone at a more rapid pace. Once he finished his body collapsed on top of mine for a moment. I then felt slobbery lips graze the skin of my neck. His paws yanked my head forward into his face. But I stared at the nothingness not at him. He jerked my head back to the side then got up pulling up his pants. I rolled off onto my side just staring blankly, in too much physical pain to do much else.
"We finished her sir," a church's knight said walking through the doorway from the other room.
"Good," replied Robert de Sable as I heard him walking up to me. He kicked his foot hard into my spine and I flinched a little. So quiet I laid there though it was recorded that I whimpered distantly. But in fact it was the minor chirping of insects of the night and a lonesome melodic bird that occasionally came out to sing me to sleep.
"What do we do with her now?" another man asked.
"Take her back with us," Robert circled to the front and knelt down to face me. A knee firmly on the ground he took his hand and flicked a stray strand of hair from my beaten face. I dared him by looking directly into his pupils damaged not broken, phased but yet unchanged.
"Claim her like Templar treasure?" One man scoffed at his remark. Templars... I thought to myself, father told me about them once. Only once. But why have they slaughtered my family? Templars... But this was just the first of many encounters with them.
.
.
*Yes, yes I will later fix that math problem that shows up a little later in the story! Let's just admit that I suck at math and this way it's a lot more logical in my story timeline plot mmkay? Well you know I also enjoy it when you take your time and read my story *winks* Thank you for reading my Beautiful Souls ~MissKayoko*