There was a loud knock at the door, and it seemed to shake the entire room. I had no intention of answering, preferring rather to pretend that I wasnt there, but it was no use. the lich king had no intention of waiting for a reply, which was obvious when the door swung open only seconds after that final rap. If possible, he was even more menacing now, standing in the small door frame like that. It had seemed a reasonably sized door before, but now it was completely dwarfed.
I couldnt help but notice that he had abandoned his armor from earlier, dressed now in the simple linen shirt and pants I would have expected on any of the men from Lakeshire. Such casualness may have seemed reassuring on someone else, but on him it was like a mockery, a corruption of everything good and simple and living. I hoped he would just stand in the doorway forever, or better yet turn and leave. Maybe he would find me completely unsuitable as those pale glowing eyes assessed me. But I had no such luck. He shifted his weight and entered the room, the heavy oak door swinging home behind him. He moved with a grace that should have been unknown to a man his size, his silvered hair hanging in his face. He peered through the strands, sizing up his prey.
I moved instinctively backwards, inopportunely trapping myself against the bed as he approached. I could feel the silk fabric beneath my fingers, heard the sound of movements, the running of a palace, outside of this small room, smelled him as he got closer: death and fear and pain. He carried it with him like a shroud.
The hunger in his eyes burned like a fire, for certain the only living part of him and
even that was debatable. I no longer could put any more space between us without finding myself prostrate on the bed and I hurried in an attempt to scramble backwards to the other side and imagined safety. But a large hand reached out grasping me above the knee, preventing my retreat.
I had known men to claim that fear had a taste and I had never been one to believe them until now. His left hand moved to mirror the right, so I was securely pinned to the bed, unable to move at all as he continued. It took all of my strength to look into those bright eyes of his, alight as they were with destruction and hatred. I could make no sense of the dark chaos there and wanted no part of it, turning my face
away from his, resigning myself to stare motionless at the blank wall until he left.
He took that movement as an invitation and I felt ice touch my skin as his mouth closed over the pulse at the side of my throat. My sharp intake of breath at the intrusion only seemed to push him on.
He braced a knee at the edge of the bed, leaning his body towards mine and I felt his hand ride up my right thigh under the linen skirt. I was detached and yet somehow remained acutely aware of what was happening. It was like my mind was trapped in a paralyzed body, allowing me to do nothing but observe, never act. And then it was his body, his chest pinning me to the bed, his hands free to roam my skin at his leisure. His knee was planted firmly between my thighs, forcing them apart as he pulled the skimpy garment up and over my head. I was hardly breathing, afraid of what would come next.
When the death knights had first pounded down the hill to lakeshire, all I had thought of was death. And when Gahrfas had claimed me as his own slave, it had been too soon. The knowledge hadn't set in yet of what my fate truly meant. It had been different. Different from this. This was the first time rape had even entered my mind.
I was completely naked but for the scrap cloth of my panties. I was pinned close to the bed, the lich king's giant form looming over me, holding me still. There was no where for me to go. Nothing for me to do. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream, at the top of my lungs. I opened my mouth to do just that, but no sound came out. He had covered my mouth with his own, his tongue forcing its way in to explore. Silent tears ran down my face as I felt him shift to remove his shirt, keeping me expertly beneath him, still silenced by his probing tongue.
He slowed then, some of the fervor gone. I frowned in confusion as his kiss became gentler, so lost in confused thought I almost didn't notice him remove my last remaining stitch of clothing, or as he threw his own pants to the ground as well. I tried to shy away from him and he became firm again, almost rough as he pressed me down into the bed. I tried to cry out, the sound lost into his mouth. He shifted and I waited, knowing what was coming next. His hands trailed down my sides from my arms, resting on my hips, his grip strong but stroking, urging me towards him. And then he pushed himself all the way in and I cried out again into his mouth as fresh tears welled in my closed eyes and trailed down my cheeks.
I had had a man before. Only one. Carn. He lived in Lakeshire, born and raised, all of 19 years now. He was probably somewhere in Northrend too. Probably in the castle while this was happening. I had loved him, and I cried now for him, for myself, for the fact that I hadn't seen him before being hauled off here, that i hadn't been able to say goodbye, that I would now be ruined forever. I knew i would likely never see him again. He was strong, a fighter. he would make a good death knight and knowing that, knowing what would happen to him only made me cry harder.
They were silent tears now, and the lich king's mouth had trailed down, back to my throat. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my tear stained face like a dead mask as he thrust and thrust again, again, again. His movements were hard, but his hands were gentle as they kneaded my skin, caressed my sides, found my breasts, clutched my hips. It was like some sort of sacrilege, this gentleness. It made me feel dirty, used. I just wanted it to stop. Wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.
He quickened his pace then, and I balled my hands in the sheets, waiting for this to be over. He moaned into my neck as he came, one hand centered on my back, holding me to him, the other staying my leg firmly around his hip as he thrust deep that one last time. i felt like a rag doll and i was. just a doll. just a plaything and it made me feel sick inside that this was what i would become.
i tried not to look at him and choked back my tears. he was caressing my face, considering me with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. he said nothing, just stood up then. redressed himself as i lay there and left, the door shutting soundly behind him. I turned on my side, and tucking my head to my knees, I proceeded to cry myself to sleep.
