Wow, got this one out fast. Merry Christmas! Reviews please?
.
In Gondor's capital, Elly was preparing to rip her hair out with frustration.
"What do you mean, you have 'no idea'?" She demanded. "Dammit, Onomir, you're supposed to protect her!"
"They were on her before we could catch up with them." Onomir said. "We can't know where they are now, they were gone in seconds."
She let out a frustrated sound and dropped into a chair. "God damn it." She muttered. "And Murtagh, stop that, you're driving me crazy!"
Murtagh shook his head shortly and continued to pace in his secluded area, away from the others. He was fuming inwardly, frustration and concern tearing him apart. He knew that this was his fault; somehow, it was. If it wasn't, it was that damned Harad prince's fault.
The heir to Harad was looking for a wife, since he couldn't ascend to the throne without one, and it was being said that while he would take any woman he could get, he was 'looking for a chance to strengthen alliances between Gondor and Harad'. In a flurry of snap decisions, Sarah and Murtagh agreed to stage a relationship, to be 'revealed' in a few days. Only Aragorn, Anna and Elly knew about it at this point. But he was sure that this had something to do with it.
Anna put a hand on his shoulder and hugged him quickly. "I know you're worried." She said. "But she'll be alright. We've known her for years, remember?"
.
Sarah curled into a tight ball as the door to her cell was closed again, submerging her in darkness. She held the sheet she had grabbed to cover herself around her as she clenched her eyes shut to try and keep out her tears. It did nothing to stop them, and she hid her face in her knees to muffle her sobs. Her wrists were chaffed and raw, and pain dully throbbed through her entire being. She wanted to die – she didn't care about anything else, she wanted to die and get away.
God, why is this happening? She asked.
She slept for a bit. Food appeared again, and she hungrily devoured it before sleeping again. She didn't have the will to fight anymore.
Caligo was watching from outside the door, silently observing the once-proud woman. Her dignity and spitfire nature was famous, and yet here she was, broken beyond repair, tears carving trails down her face. Women. He thought with disgust, shaking his head before turning on his heel and going back to his master's rooms.
Soromir had become reclusive lately. Many speculated about the reason, but Caligo knew that it was because of their plan. The manservant had jumped on the offer of a better future the instant it was given by the Gondorian. Today, the plan would be set into motion.
He walked in without knocking, bowing his head respectfully. Soromir was seated at the table, where he was lazily carving something with an exotic-looking dagger. His expression was dark and brooding, clouded over with things that Caligo couldn't quite name. Soromir glanced up at him, then looked back to his carving. "Any change?" He asked.
He shook his head. "She cries, she eats, she sleeps. Nothing else."
He laughed shortly. "I expected more." He said, before standing. "I expect you are ready?"
"Of course, Lord."
He glanced at the carving, then steeled his face and took his sword from the wall. "Take this." He said, tossing another sword to Caligo. The servant caught it effortlessly, examining the thin blade. It was crying to be taken from its sheath, to embed itself in flesh and bathe its length in blood. It was perfect for him. Soromir smiled slightly, then put his hand on his ally's shoulder. "My friend, what we are about to do... if we fail, we will both be killed. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Of course." He answered immediately, bowing his head. "My life is yours for the taking, Lord."
Another smile was given, and the two drew their swords. They nodded, and the game began.
.
She woke to screams.
She sat bolt upright, scrambling over to the door. She crawled to her feet and looked through the grate, then gasped and jumped back as a Death Eater was flung against the door, gurgling as blood rose to its lips. A massacre was going on outside the cells, and throughout the entire base. She backed against the wall, her heart thudding as someone started to jiggle the lock. There was a loud curse, then a small explosion. She covered her face as the door groaned open, to reveal Caligo standing with a long, blood-soaked sword drawn.
"Come on." He snarled, grabbing her arm and yanking her out of the cell.
He dragged her through the cramped halls of the prison cells, occasionally passing the mutilated corpse of a Death Eater or Mummy Crony. Upstairs, the final stages of the coup were being exercised. The only remaining barrier between Soromir and complete control was gasping for breath, weakly trying to reach some kind of weapon. Soromir kicked the only one away and stood above the last living man.
"You will not get away with this," He choked out.
Soromir's eyes flashed with hate, and the explosion of a gun filled the room. "I believe that I have." He said coldly, then stepped over the corpse and leaving the room. He walked down the halls, past the dead bodies he paid no heed, until he reached a locked door watched over by a few defectors and Caligo. They nodded and let him pass, and he entered a lavish series of chambers.
Sarah had been thrown into this room and been told to 'prepare'. She had no idea what to prepare for, but she saw clean clothes hanging in a wardrobe and sprung on the nearest dress. Next to the wardrobe was a tray with a glass of wine and a plate of food. She shuddered at the good taste of meat as she tried to eat and dress at the same time, finally focusing on lacing up the back. She looked into the mirror and didn't even recognize herself. Her hair was hanging limply around her pale face. Bruises were already coming out against the skin. She slowly reached up a hand to touch them.
It was during this time that the doors open, and Soromir entered, his eyes immediately finding her. She braced herself and turned to face him, steeling her face. Instead of more demands, more abuse, he looked relieved. "You're safe." He said.
"No, I'm not." She said softly. Another time, she would have launched into a profane rant about why he was keeping her there and… doing the things he was. Now, she didn't even have the will to raise her voice.
He sighed and clasped his hands behind his back, slowly walking around the room. "What do you make of them?" He asked, gesturing to the rooms around them.
She looked around, then shrugged. "They're nice."
He nodded. "They are yours. For as long as you are here."
"And how long will that be?"
His dark, silent look was answer enough for her.
"You can't." She said. "I… you can't."
"I can and I will." He was in front of her again, towering over her. He pulled a strand of hair from in front of her face… almost tenderly. "While you may not leave here," He said softly. "I will not force you to… do things anymore. I acted rashly, though I do not apologize."
She turned her back to him. "I have nothing to discuss with you." She said sharply, clenching her eyes shut and bracing herself.
He sighed. "As you wish." He said softly. He slowly raised up a hand, like he was going to touch her shoulder, then lowered his hand and walked away. As soon as the door thudded closed, she let out the breath she had been holding, covering her mouth and shaking.
She finally composed herself and stared at the food. Hesitantly, she picked up the bowl of beef stew and took a long sip. The warm broth filled her comfortingly, and as soon as she finished, she crawled onto the soft bed in the other room and fell asleep.
.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Sucks, doesn't it? Anyway, this is Murtagh/Sarah/Soromir. I like S/S myself, but whatever, people have their preferences. Once again, reviews?