Twisting Embers
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Chapter Two—Inflamed
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If the devil could pick any face to acquire, it would be his.
His was the face of Lucifer. A face carved and adored by the angels, molded to a beauty so devastating it paled against the brilliant rays of the rising sun that bounced off him like a gleaming halo. A face blessed by the very heavens.
And yet, beneath the hallowed perfection of his handsome visage lay a sinister edge that his physical magnificence could only attempt—and fail—to hide. A darkness within as unfathomable as the piercing pits of his bottomless eyes—soulless orbs no less beautiful than the rest of him.
Sakura could only marvel at the sight of him, stand frozen at the deadly presence he exuded even as he sauntered toward her with the self-assured gait of a being that knew the world was at his feet. Locking her trembling knees in place and willing them to support her a while longer, refusing to crumble in the face of such an exquisitely dangerous creature, she held her ground, unable to tear her eyes away from the fallen angel in the guise of a man that thrived on bloodshed.
This was Lucifer.
This was a viking lord.
And there he stood before her, power emanating from every pore of his formidable frame. His presence so potent, it seemed to crackle around the thickened air like lightning. Tall and broad-shouldered, his armor smeared in blood that she just knew weren't entirely his, with hair as dark as a raven's wing unbound and framing perfect marbled features, and eyes as soulless as the endless void of death, he was the very epitome of human beauty. A deity of sorts. A god these Vikings seemed to believe. A harbinger of death.
"Milady," the viking lord greeted her with a courtly bow, the arrogant tilt of one dark eyebrow as mocking as his gesture of chivalry; his voice a deep silky timbre that sent shivers of apprehension and something else Sakura couldn't define down her spine.
But even his apparent genteel manners belied the danger he posed. His deadly presence alone sent very real fear clawing ruthlessly at her insides, pushing her heart to pound an erratic rhythm against her chest and had her blood rushing to her ears, her very soul petrified under the heavy burnt of his piecing scrutiny.
Panic rose within her then, swelling to irrational heights, seeds of doubt coalescing with her mounting terror. Oh, God, oh, God. Oh, God. This man could kill her with his bare hands in less time it would take for anyone to breathe in air!
This was a Viking! His kind rape and pillage, and they had just utterly ransacked her village!
Really, what had she been thinking going to this Viking willingly?
She had foolishly thought that she was somehow equal to this man. Thought that he might have summoned her because of her title as a lady of the village, and thus open to any of her thoughts and negotiation. But now, standing in front of this savage, looking so ruthless and implacable andandand untamed…God, she was an idiot. Foolish! Why did it not occur to her that he might have summoned the lady of the village so he could do unspeakable things to her?
Bile rose up to Sakura's throat at the thought, knowing full well that she could never hope to defend herself against this man, much less elude his entire viking fleet. Physical struggle would only waste precious energy at this point.
But…what else could she do?
She couldn't just stand there and allow herself to be degraded. It just wasn't in her nature—or any other self-respecting woman's really. She'd dealt with enough ridicule in her life; she wasn't going to stand for any more. All her life, she'd relied on nothing but her wits and skills to survive. Her ability to think on her feet. She'd gone through hell and back, sacrificed too much to be at the mercy of this, this barbarian lying down. She couldn't give up now, couldn't—wouldn't let this devil drag her to those eternal pits without a fight…even if just standing there in front of him scared her halfway to the afterlife itself.
Somehow, someway, she had to buy herself some time, some leverage…
She knew she had to try. Had to buy herself some time.
Be brave, Sakura. You can do this.
And so, with a deep, steadying breath, she gathered whatever feeble inner strength she had left to brace herself against the onslaught of her frayed nerves, even as she tilted her chin up defiantly to meet the terrifying warrior's black gaze. She managed to give him a cool, stiff nod; a rather large, immovable lump in her throat preventing her any use of her vocal cords…which was just as well, she thought. Or else she'd be screaming bloody murder. She had absolutely no idea what to say to the imposing creature without giving way to hysteria.
After all, just what did one say to a Viking Lord who had just, not only a few short hours ago, razed an entire village to the ground?
Probably nothing polite, or at all appropriate, but taking that course would get her nowhere except to an early grave. She had not survived this long because of a loose tongue after all. No, she had to tread on this carefully. She couldn't risk being reckless.
She needed to escape.
She needed a plan.
"I am Sasuke Uchiha," the viking lord smoothed, his voice deliciously deep and halting, deliberate, and Sakura had to remind herself to breathe at the way his bottomless eyes bore into hers, a dark motive shining behind those magnificently black depths that frightened her.
She swallowed.
"And you, sweeting," A mocking smirk slashed across his thin lips, cruel and merciless, "are my prisoner."
Her eyes widened, her body frozen.
"My slave."
And those words condemned her.
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Watching the emotions play across her delicate features was quite a fascinating thing to behold. A starkly rapid succession of determination, surprise, doubt, anxiety, fear—Sasuke relished—and then…curiously, though not unexpectedly, anger. Anger so intense that it shone brightly in her wide green orbs that practically glittered against the sun's golden light. An emotion, he presumed, she felt so strongly above the rest in that one tense moment. She was like an open book; he could read her perfectly, and knowing it was so was a satisfaction that Sasuke allowed himself to momentarily savor.
This woman was the key to his victory, his vengeance. With her at his mercy, Danzou will fall to his knees.
She will be his death.
And if this woman felt as strongly as he suspected she did, then she would be far easier to break than he'd initially thought. The more she was broken, the swifter his triumph. It was only a matter of time—
"Now, now Sasuke." Naruto intoned in an edgily pleasant voice, hands raised in a manner that was meant to be placating as the blond warrior tried to step in between him and the slight, strangely colored woman. The chivalrous fool. "No need to scare the lady guest into next we—"
"You're wrong." A soft voice spoke, unwittingly interrupting the beginnings of a familiar power play between two great warriors, steady and yet tremulous, strong and yet feminine, carried by the winds that whipped across the vast shores, lilting and cresting with every blow of the breeze.
Different pairs of eyes swiveled in the petite prisoner's direction, and were met with a brave sight.
"You're wrong," the woman repeated, her voice louder, her words filled with more conviction this time, as if she thought they had not heard—or believed—her clearly enough the first time. Perhaps they hadn't, for the pairs—four, as they were the only occupants in the sturdy longboat—that had turned to her ranged from shock, to curious confusion, to barely suppressed intrigue, and even amusement.
So. The little mouse knew how to squeak. Excellent.
Sasuke, in particular, eyed her speculatively, the mocking eyebrow rising once again in question, and not without a little derisive amusement. It was clear to everyone present that the viking found little threat in her, and not without reason. She was only a woman. She wasn't even a viking one, at that. She could so easily wilt at his hands.
"You're wrong," she said once again, eyes now dangerously glinting into precious unbreakable jewels, enforced by the fiery fury that blazed within. "I will never be your slave."
"Is that so?" Sasuke challenged quietly, calmly, his amused disdain still palpable in the air around him, his arrogance tangible.
This was a man who knew very few people could best him. A man confident enough in his abilities to lay his opponents low, and grasp in his hands the power to spare or slay them. A man who knew his way around a battlefield.
Unfortunately for him, Sakura was also a seasoned warrior, albeit of a different kind, with a quick temper and a tongue as sharp as any cutting blade.
"That is so, viking." With narrowed jade eyes sparking with the undeniable fire of ire, she tilted her chin up at a haughty angle, and sassed with as much condescension she could muster under such dire circumstances, absolutely refusing to be bullied into submission when she knew she had some fight left in her. She would meet his taunts blow by blow. "I do believe you underestimate my value."
Sasuke smirked at her proclamation, a predator grin that Sakura was sure made even Hades quake. "Milady, when you are the Earl of Root's betrothed," his eyes flashed in answer. "Your value to me is little more than a slave's."
At his arrogantly clipped words, she felt her temper rise, her self-control slipping.
So that was what all of this was about? He didn't take too well to her future husband, so he thought it was acceptable to raze down an entire village, one of the many the Earl of Root apparently lorded? Sakura knew she had little knowledge of war, having grown up at a relatively small and peaceful hamlet up north, ensconced between a wall of valleys, where the people saw little of warriors, viking or otherwise. However, despite her ignorance in the ways of warfare, she was not naïve enough to think that attacks like what had been done to the town were unusual. But for him, this man…this…this uncivilized barbarian, to torch down the homes of many innocent people, killing many of them along the way and then enslaving them after all was said and done, for reasons that are apparently more personal was absolutely unforgivable!
Those people were hardworking citizens who had lives and families. She had lived in that village, found contentment, companionship and something close to home. And now he was basically telling her that her life was insignificant, worthless, because of what? Her association with his opponent? Because she had no great title attached to her name, great power?
Well. Her eyes narrowed on his tall looming form with spitting sparks of emerald fury. We'll just see about that.
It was too bad for him—Sasuke, he said—because Sakura believed otherwise. Her belief was that every person had a right to live, and that no one's life is worth more than another, no one's life should be given more precedence. She'd learned that early on. It was actually because of that deeply ingrained principle that had taken her this far in life, and she was proud of it.
Viking or not, she wasn't about to let anyone step on what she believed so deeply about. Her life and the principles she lived by was the only thing she valued most in the world. It was all she had, and she'd be damned before this reprehensible creature reduced her to a sniveling coward.
And so, with her feet braced, and her tiny hands clenched tight, she struck with her tongue before she could strike with her fist (an action, she amended, that would be the height of stupidity, considering who she was dealing with). "If you believe that, sir," she intoned haughtily, "then I believe you have not much worth either. But that's no surprise, is it? One can't really blame a viking dog for being so primitive."
Her insult rang through the morning air's fresh chill, rebounding in the ensuing stillness. A sharp intake of breath from one of the men at her sides—her escorts, she supposed with an internal scoff—an emphasis of how heavy the air had become. Even the blond man who had tried to intervene earlier had grown still, becoming one with the world's sudden paralysis, his mouth slightly agape and clear cerulean eyes, wide with…astonishment? Disbelief? Incredulity? She wasn't sure, but the slack expression on his face only seemed to highlight the evident gravity of her words.
She had just insulted a mighty viking lord; one who had an equally mighty fleet of savages at his beck and call.
She was doomed.
Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she knew this. But surprisingly, she didn't care, not really. Her sole focus stayed upon the looming brute before her, her righteous indignation bolstering her with foolish courage and shielding her from rational thought. She met his piercing stare with an unmovable glare, even as her insides quaked at the darkness, the soulless quality in them, boring into her with a forbidding intensity, the blank slate that was his perfectly sculpted face the perfect intimidation. He neither blinked, nor snarled. He just was.
And then—he was moving, his hand reaching up and catching her chin in a firm a hold that she knew she would not be able to free herself from, even if she had wanted to. Her own eyes widened suddenly at the unexpected action, shocked and quite suddenly, she wasn't holding his stare anymore. Now, he had hers trapped within the stormy intensity of his, and she was unable to break free.
"Be careful, Milady," he rumbled from deep within his iron clad chest, his face descending upon hers slowly, deliberately, until their faces were scant inches apart, his warm breath ghosting over her cold cheeks, an intangible mockery of a lover's caress. "You have no inkling of what I am capable of."
"I know enough," Sakura found herself whispering in return, unable to help the breathy quality of her voice had taken, disorientation gripping her senses. Her chest heaved for the air that her lungs suddenly struggled for, even as her heart pounded against it with an incessant beat. Vaguely, she knew she was being reckless beyond belief; the volatile temper that he had provoked waning a little, and finally allowing the first stirrings of terror to creep through. The man seemed capable of snapping her in two, not unlike a twig. He could kill her. He could do things to her, horrible things that didn't even bear imagining. But what little good sense she had regained was apparently not enough to stifle her next words, delivered with enough conviction and rancor that shocked even her. "You are remorseless, and you will burn in your viking hell for it."
"Hn," his eyes glinted with something she couldn't identify, before his lips twisted into cruel smirk. I'm already there, they seemed to mock. Then he turned to his men, his smooth baritone soft and so authoritative that it brooked no argument. "Take her; we sail in an hour."
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Sakura had never been one for deep illusions of grandeur, but she'd thought that fantasizing about how she would travel the vast high seas for the first time on the very lap of luxury was an acceptable, if not, excusable thing to contemplate, considering the fact that she was betrothed to Lord Danzo. After all, the Earl of Root was hardly what one would call a pauper. His position in court as the King of Fire's counsel made sure of that. It helped that the lands he owned and the armies he commanded weren't exactly minuscule either. So, no, she didn't think inferring that she would at least be comfortable when she finally did embark on an ocean adventure had been wrong, or at all presumptuous.
As it was, however, her current predicament had left much to be desired. In place of the comfortable cabin that came with her fantasy were heavy manacles as cold and as unforgiving as they looked, chafing her wrists raw, and instead of the cushioned bunk bed that should have lain in wait for her was the dirty and damp wooden floorboards of the vikings' ship. Clearly, these barbarians knew not the concept of hospitality.
Not that I'm surprised, she thought scathingly, if a little weakly, her humiliation finally complete, tied as she was to the ship's mast where the violent lummoxes had seen it fit to station her with all her chained glory. They're vikings. Propriety was obviously not a concept they valued.
A few feet away, one of the two particularly large vikings manning the heavy oars closest to her farted loudly, his face comical at his unexpected…blow up. The one helping him guffawed while the perpetrator sniffed the air he'd tainted around him, not in the least repentant or abashed.
Sakura grimaced in disgust.
Or understood, apparently.
Oh, Lord. Why did these things always happen to her? Was this punishment for a past transgression she never knew about? Or perhaps this was God's punishment for all the times she had lied about mucking the pig pen when she had really skived off to learn about medicinal herbs with Lady Tsunade?
Whatever this was, it was more than she could take, she thought with a weary thunk of her head against the mast's smooth surface, feeling her legs cramp beneath her but was too desolate to care. She could only hope that, whatever they were planning to do with her, she would be able to get out of it with her dignity—and her womanhood, yes, she knew what they did to female prisoners—intact.
Just then, a voice that was both sharp and deep pierced through the sea's howling breeze.
"He—eeeeey!"
Curious, Sakura looked up to see another long vessel rapidly sidling up beside them. Upon closer inspection, she spotted a fair-haired Viking waving his arms in the air, shouting at the top of his lungs to garner the attention of those riding on their longship, recognizing him to be the one who had been present during her interlude with Satan's incarnate. Then, when his ship was as close to their vessel as it could without sending them careening into each other, he climbed up onto his longship's sturdy railing and did the most amazing thing Sakura had ever witness in her life—he leaped into the air, sailing gracefully like an airborne arrow, before landing on their ship's floorboards with a dull thud, displaying all the skill and agility a feline of prey would possess.
Sakura gasped, awed in spite of herself, unable to believe what had just happened. The man had just jumped off his own ship and alighted onto their own! As if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. Unbelievable!
For all her astonishment, however, the vikings aboard seemed to think nothing of his daring feat, even when he straightened to his full height, placed his hands in his narrow waist, and bellowed a loud and proud laugh. Indeed, all of them seemed so nonchalant at his dangerous stunt that all he received for his efforts were casual greetings and guffawing slaps in the back from his compatriots as they passed him by to carry out their duties.
Strange, that's what this lot is. Sakura found herself thinking to herself in her astonished state. Strange, improper and foolish. Thank goodness she was born a proper, civilized citizen and not a…a…a common savage.
Really, what was wrong with these people? What had made them so bloodthirsty? Were they somehow possessed by demons?
Well, considering their leader seemed to be the spawn of Satan himself, then I might not be far off the mark.
So lost in thought was she, that she didn't even notice the pair of strong feet striding toward her in sure, relaxed steps.
"Hello," the newcomer greeted her with a cheerful smile, breaking through her unkind musings.
Sakura blinked. And then blinked again.
The flaxen-crowned viking gave her a blinding grin.
A grin.
She gawked, confusion filtering into her senses as she continued to stare up at the armor-bedecked man towering before her. He was grinning. At her.
"I'm Naruto," he forged on without preamble, his chest puffing up in pride. "Naruto Uzumaki."
She opened her mouth, an instinctive reply on her tongue before she gave herself pause, suddenly wary. She gazed up at him, unsure of what she was supposed to say in turn. In all honesty, she hadn't expected to be spoken to at all. Not when that horrible, horrible man—no, viking—no, beast, the one who called himself Sasuke, had told his underlings the moment they had secured her to her…her post that no one was to go near her or utter a single word to her. And while she hated being tied up, held against her will like a common mule to be sold at the market, she had been thankful for his directive, much as she was beginning loathe the man who had given it. She had not been unaware of the leers some of the brutes on the vessel had thrown her way, and she knew that their lord's mandate was the only thing that had kept them from harassing her, as was what their kind, she knew, were wont to do—she was no naïve maid, after all.
But now…what was she to do? She could ignore him but her dismissal could possibly ignite his anger. Vikings, she had heard, were famous for their temper. A temper she did not wish upon her person while she was helpless.
"Hello," she finally said curtly, if a bit stiffly. She would have preferred to keep her peace, but if there was something she did better than anyone, it was surviving, and surviving meant making wise decisions in the face of threats.
"Lady Sakura, right?" the viking asked unnecessarily, as if he hadn't already known the answer, going down unceremoniously onto his haunches so he was at her level, his forearms resting on his bent knees. His lips parted in a bright beam, his eyes glittering like precious jewels. "I hope you've got a strong stomach. You're in for a rough ride."
What…is he doing? She wondered, eyeing him distrustfully—a look she didn't bother to hide, and one he either ignored or was oblivious to. She could detect no threat in his tone, no antagonism, no hostility. Indeed, if she were honest, she could even say he almost sounded…friendly.
But friendly and vikings did not mix. Not when they'd razed her home to the ground without a second thought. Not when they were going to enslave her.
Unable to believe the mere thought of it, she searched his face for any underlying motivation, anything that would give a hint to some hidden intention. From what she had learned of vikings from the whispers she'd heard during her travels, they were a brash lot, violent, impetuous and beastly. They could also be quite cunning, seasoned in the art of war. But after a long moment of careful inspection, a long moment that could be considered rude in polite society, she found nothing but a critical assessment of his rugged features: wild blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, broad shoulders that were only emphasized by his iron armor, and a weathered tanned face that had unusual scars on it, scars that reminded her of whiskers, making him look decidedly feline. If she were honest with herself and were he not one of the thugs who had stolen everything she had come to care about, she could even go so far as to call him handsome.
As it was, she had no use for handsomeness in the face of her current predicament. Giving up, she decided to be blunt instead. Try as she might, she could not bring herself to mince words with her kidnappers. "Why are you speaking to me?"
"Eh," the blond man's—Naruto's—brows crinkled in puzzlement, a sun-weathered hand coming up to scratch a cheek. "Why? Well, because I want to."
At his flippant words, an inquiring eyebrow rose. "Despite your viking lord's command to do otherwise?"
"Who? Sasuke?" There was a long pause, before he decided to do yet another unexpected thing: he laughed out a belly-aching laugh, loud and boisterous, tears almost streaming down eyes that were crinkled with unabated humor. Laughed so hard as if what she had said was the funniest thing in the world.
Shocked at his reaction and at a loss for words, Sakura looked around her apprehensively, noting that some of the barbaric seamen's attention were piqued and were now gazing at them curiously. She fidgeted, her mouth running dry under such unwanted scrutiny. She hoped none of them got the idea of following this clown's example. She would not be held responsible if she managed to insult any of them, and if that happened, who knew what would happen to her then?
She turned back to the roaring man helplessly.
Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to collect himself enough to speak properly. His laughter subsiding, much to her relief, he looked to her, a large hand wiping at his eyes that were sparkling like sapphires at his unshed tears of hilarity. "Oh, I like you," he declared. Then he dropped his gaze to the unforgiving chains holding her prisoner and asked, "You wanna get out of that?"
Sakura stared up at him, gobsmacked. What? "What?"
He opened his mouth to reiterate his words, "I wa—"
"Naruto."
A cold voice slid over them, soft, grim and dangerous. Sakura felt dread trickle down her spine.
"Bastard!" said the golden haired viking by way of greeting, not at all sounding like he was cursing, but like he was acknowledging a friend, his grin unfettered by the menace coating his deep timbre as he looked to the man looming over her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" the viking lord queried coolly, his tone betraying not a hint of emotion.
Sakura stiffened, feeling the fine hairs behind her neck prickle but dared not to acknowledge his stifling presence. Besides the fact that he terrified her witless, she also had no wish to speak to such an unreasonable being; a demon that saw nothing of rendering many innocent people—people with families and livelihoods—killed, let alone homeless.
Finding nothing amiss at all, Naruto on the other hand merely shrugged his wide shoulders casually, unconcerned—not for her wellbeing, and apparently, not for his own either. "Oh I was just talking to Lady Sa—"
"Leave her be," the foreboding one interrupted, his frosty words brooking no argument, and it might have worked on any other man, too. Any other man but Naruto, it seemed. Not that Sasuke was surprised. The man's head was as thick as a rock, literally and figuratively.
"But Sasukeeeee," the blond buffoon all but whined, his hand splaying out wide before him awkwardly, still crouched as he was. "I'm bored!"
Sasuke sighed in exasperation, three fingers coming up to massage the bridge of his patrician nose. He had known that he was going to regret taking the nuisance along, and he had been right. "Naruto. Go back to The Sage." Piercing him an icy look, he added, "A storm is brewing."
"I know, I know," his friend returned blithely, "but it won't be in for a few hours—"
"Go."
The blond man sighed exaggeratedly, relenting, and Sasuke had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his theatricality. A nuisance, that's what he was. If only he weren't so skilled with the sword.
Taking his sweet time, Naruto unfolded from his easy squat, returning his attention to their prisoner, an amiable expression splashed across his boyish face. "Well, it looks like I have to go, Milady. It was nice talking to you."
And with that, he sauntered off, confident strides lackadaisical.
Feeling mild annoyance chafe the edges of his awareness, Sasuke tracked the other viking's progress, unable to comprehend what had possessed him to bring the idiot along, before casting a cold obsidian glance toward the woman who held herself rigidly on the floor, he doubted she had moved a muscle at all since his intrusion. With her back to him, all he could see of her was the top of her strangely colored mane and the straight line of her unbending back, a physical evidence of her discomfiture. Not that he cared much for her comfort.
She was his enemy's betrothed, and by association, she was one as well. She was also his pawn. He wanted no one speaking to her. She was an essential part to his revenge against the earl, and he had to make sure that his men understood that.
She will serve her purpose soon enough.
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A/n: Hi, guys! I'm alive! I know it's late but, I have to tell you that I'm so happy I finally have this up! I was supposed to post this some time ago, but then my laptop died, and I've been without a computer for almost half a year. Yes, it's true; I'm surprised I survived that long myself.
Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I had a fun time writing it. Now I'm off to salvage the rest of my stories! Ciao!