Chapter 7: Troubles at Home


Wij zweren bij de vlammen van eer om nooit onze wapens tegen onschuldigen te gebruiken.
Wij zweren bij de waterval van lang leven om nooit de order te verraden.
Geen schepsel wordt achtergelaten. Geen ziel wordt vergeten.
Wij werken in de nacht om het licht te dienen.
Wij zweven boven het land om het hiernamaals te beschermen.
Wij zijn mens. Wij zijn beest.
Wij zijn Drakenrijders.

Chaos.

That was the best way to describe this particular evening on Berk. It was yet another dragon raid, the second that month. Vikings were running here and there, rushing to either take down a dragon or help another Viking in need. Bolas flew through the air, snaring some dragons and missing others. The flapping of strong wings and the battle cries of humans filled the nonexistent silence.

To the right of the village, Vikings swung their axes and hammers, trying to take down a dragon or two. To the left of the village, more Vikings chased after dragons that made for their livestock. In the center, an all-out battle ensued.

Leading the charge was Stoick the Vast, fearlessly grabbing the dragons and throwing them into nets like mere fish. To him, these beasts were nothing but an annoyance. They were the cause of his village's hundreds of years of suffering. They were the cause of his beloved wife's death. They were the ones to drive his son off the island, away from his home. They were nothing.

With a roar, Stoick swung his hammer at the head of a Nadder, making it stagger. With another swing, it fell to the floor and another Viking came to throw a net over it. It growled, its eyes snapping from one Viking to the other. It spotted another Nadder in the distance and started to squirm, readying a roar of its own. With a sneer, Stoick brought his hammer down, silencing the Nadder before it could get the chance.

Somewhere near the docks, the Thorston twins worked together to take down a Gronckle. It was coming down for a dive to grab a sheep, when the twins lunged with wild battle cries. They threw a net over the rotund reptile, causing it to lose balance and use of its wings. It tumbled to the floor, rolling a few yards before coming to a stop next to a house. The twins cheered in their triumph.

After their short celebration, one of them had to serve the killing blow. Ruffnut was quick to decide she would get the honor. Tuffnut agreed with her for a second…before turning back and pushing her out of the way, declaring he was the man, he would kill the dragon. Within seconds, the twins went from working together to their usual scuffle. The captured Gronckle was spotted from up above by another dragon, who decided to go for a dive and grab both a stray sheep and its downed friend, all in one swoop.

Near the home of Mulch and Bucket, the young Jorgensen was swinging a hammer at a roaming Terror. It kept trying to dive in to grab one of the chickens. Snotlout was not going to let it. The Terror shrieked as the waving hammer missed it by just a few inches. Snotlout swung his hammer again, aiming right for the Terror's wing. It shrieked again and Snotlout smirked in satisfaction. Wait until Astrid hears about this! What Snotlout was not aware of was the flock of Terrible Terrors banking around the mountaintops of Berk. When they heard the cry of pain from one of their own, they made to attack.

Like a cloud of terror, they descended on Snotlout, letting out shrieks that combined to sound like a tremendous roar. Snotlout turned to see the flock of Terrors, the wounded Terror whining as it tried to fly out of the way. In a state of panic, Snotlout began swinging his hammer like a madman, hoping to hit at least enough to get them off his back and off the island. In their desire to attack the young Viking, the Terrors completely forgot about the chickens and continued to dive at Snotlout.

In the plaza in front of the Mead Hall, well...there was a Zippleback. It maneuvered between the houses, searching high and low...simultaneously. It whipped its heads from left to right, trying to catch a glimpse of its target, sometimes tangling itself. With footsteps as quiet as that of an insect, the Zippleback crept up a flaming house. It kept its head over the edges but out of sight. When it looked around the back of the house, it glanced down to see a quivering ball of blonde Viking.

Fishlegs held his axe to his chest, shaking with fear as he looked around for the Zippleback that seemed to be out to get him. He knew that according to Viking society and the specific traditions of his tribe, that he was expected to fight in the raids now that he had graduated from Dragon Training alongside his peers. However, he was still the same Fishlegs from the start of his dragon-killing journey. He believed, along with his people, that dragons are violent and dangerous creatures that would stop at nothing to kill humans. He might be fascinated with the winged beasts, but they brought absolute terror to his heart. The adults might believe him ready to fight with them against the draconic threat, but his trembling hands thought otherwise. He was no fighter. He was definitely not a killer. What were they thinking when they shoved an axe in his hands and pushed him out into the fray?

With a deep breath, Fishlegs looked around once again only to freeze. To his right was a head of a Zippleback, just staring at him as it slowly began opening its mouth, a greenish gas leaking out. Trying not to scream, Fishlegs discretely turned his head to the left. He was going to make a run for it, speed off as fast as his legs could take him. Only, to his left was the second head of the reptile, and it was already throwing sparks from its mouth. Slowly turning his head so that it was facing neither head, Fishlegs took yet another breath…before screaming as he took off, running faster than anyone would believe him capable of. The Zippleback heads looked to each other, appeared to shrug, and then took after the plump blonde teenager.

Astrid looked up to the burning home of her neighbors, spotting a dragon she has never seen before ripping away at the roof of it. It resembled a Monstrous Nightmare but with four legs instead of claws on the ends of its wings. There was a long appendage slithering out of its mouth, twisting and turning as it ripped at the roof along with its claws. Astrid glanced around for a way to reach the dragon on the roof and noticed a stack of barrels next to the wall of the house. Gripping her axe tightly in her hand, Astrid charged for the stack and hopped up the barrels one after the other. When she reached the highest one, she jumped up as high as her legs could get her and grabbed hold of the roof's ledge with her free hand. The dragon hesitated in its digging and its head snapped up in attention. Astrid did not waste time waiting for the dragon to turn its attention back to the roof. She hauled herself onto the roof, steadied her stance, and managed a good hold on her axe. She was going to kill herself a dragon.

With a battle cry worthy of a Viking, Astrid charged the dragon, her axe raised above her head. The dragon turned to her, taken by surprise. Nevertheless, it was quick to notice the threat and snarled in outrage. How dare that human sneak up on it! As Astrid reached the dragon, she brought her axe down, only for it to hit solid wood. The dragon had dodged her strike.

Astrid tugged on her axe, trying to pull it loose, when she caught sight of a large pink blur out of the corner of her eye. Reacting in that same second, she leaned back as far as her back allowed, a long pink object speeding by where her chest was merely seconds ago. Before she could identify what it was, it had passed by her again, disappearing as fast as it appeared. Turning to look to her side, she saw the dragon pulling the tip of the pink object back into its mouth.

Was that…its tongue?

She noticed that the dragon appeared to be readying itself for a second strike and she was quick to act. She took a firm hold of her axe and spun around. As she spun, she simultaneously pulled at the axe. Just as the dragon's tongue shot out of its fanged snout, the axe ripped out of the wood and Astrid swung up and over, bringing the axe down as she leaned out of harm's way.

A shriek of pain sounded into the night sky.

Astrid stared with disgust at the slithering muscle on the ground, wondering in the back of her mind why it could still move. Turning away from the disturbing sight, she glared at the dragon that dared attack her. This was her land; it had no right.

It was pawing at its mouth, splattering the blood across the rooftop. When it heard the sound of Astrid's axe being lifted up with a sharp whistle of air, it decided to forget about its severed tongue to take revenge on the human who severed it. The dragon bared its teeth, growling harshly, with blood leaking out from between its fangs. With a smirk, Astrid threw her axe with a mighty grunt.

The dragon swatted it away, only two claws being sliced off in the process. Astrid narrowed her eyes. This was going to be tricky. She reached for her waist, pulling two long daggers out of the sheaths strapped onto her skirt. She crouched down, preparing to charge forward to hopefully strike the killing blow. The dragon watched her get into position and got into a defensive stance.

With another battle cry, Astrid ran towards her target. The dragon made to breathe fire at her but Astrid was quick to bring her right blade down on its head. The dagger pierced through the top of its snout, snapping its mouth shut. The dragon gave a pain-filled growl and got ready to bring a claw up to slice her up. However, Astrid flipped the dagger in her left hand's hold, the sharp tip now facing the ground in her grip. She swung her left arm over the dragon's head and up to her right shoulder. With a yell, she brought if back down onto the dragon's head, stabbing it through the eye.

She did not stop there. She tugged it back out and brought it down a few more times. The dragon was dead by the fourth but she stabbed it at least five more times after that. When she was satisfied with her release of rage, she pulled both daggers out of the still dragon's head and stepped back. Looking at the bloody mess that was the unfamiliar breed of dragon, Astrid could feel nothing but satisfaction.

She had participated in a practice her people have taken part in for hundreds of years. In the many raids that occurred in the past six months, she had only succeeded in harming dragons, only for them to escape before she could deal a fatal blow. It irritated her to no end. Especially after the Ring Incident, as many villagers liked to call it.

It was a tragic day when the village discovered that their captive dragons had escaped and apparently taken Hiccup with them. To the village, they had lost a Viking prodigy that day. To the other teens, they had lost an interesting comrade. To Chief Stoick, he had lost his only son and child. To Astrid, she was rid of her burden.

At least, that was her view of the incident for the first few weeks. Before Dragon Training, she was viewed as the prodigy of the village. The top student even before their classes ever started. Then Hiccup improved and took the lime light from her, making the village kick her to the curb. It was humiliating. Then he had to go and best her on their final test, taking down the Gronckle and gaining the privilege of killing his first dragon. She just finally killed her first just tonight. All because the dragons from the ring had escaped, taking the village's pride and joy with them.

For those first few weeks after Hiccup's disappearance and the dragons' escape, Astrid was ready to take back the attention. Before Dragon Training, she had not paid it much thought and had taken the attention for granted. It was not until she was losing it that she wanted it back. With Hiccup gone, she was certain it was going to start up again; that the attention would turn back to her. She was wrong. All the tribe cared about was finding Hiccup and figuring out how the dragons had gotten out of their pens without force. She loathed the fact that they cared so much for the runt of the village. Hiccup was deceiving them, using tricks in the ring to get them on his side! Why could they not see that?!

Then the first month went by. The searching parties gave up, the teens started to lose interest, Stoick began to close in on himself. Most would have expected him to order for a new search every week if not every day, but he was the one who called them off. Astrid suspected that there was something going on; information about Hiccup's sudden disappearance that their chief refused to share. She would often see him pull a sheet of parchment from his pocket and stare at it for long periods, quickly hiding it when someone looked his way. At least, he thought no one saw it. Astrid knew that paper had something to do with Hiccup and either where he is or why he was gone. Maybe he left and used the dragons as a way to cover his true intentions.

Was he too scared to face a Monstrous Nightmare but did not want it to be so obvious that he was not the warrior they thought he was? Did he realize that the attention he was getting was not what he expected so he left to escape it? No one knows. However, that paper held the truth, or as close to the truth as Astrid was ever going to get.

Taking a few breaths, Astrid evaluated the damage done to Berk. It was not as bad as they used to get, despite having more dragons and newer breeds. Dragons they have only heard of and that villagers have rarely seen were showing up and joining in the raid of their island. It was a little alarming, but they were Vikings; they would just fight back that much harder. Nevertheless, it helped that Hiccup was not around to cause trouble. They have lost less livestock than usual without the resident klutz present to knock down a torch or two. It was a relief but seemed to remind them that one of their own had perished, whether they knew that to be true or not.

Seeing that the raid had passed, Astrid put away her daggers and turned to go get her axe. It was time to take a breather and find out the extent of the damage aside from what was visual.

~*~Safety and Peace~*~

"Did you guys see me? I was a beast! Terrors coming at me from all angles! And there I was, with nothing but a hammer and my own two hands...I swung and I bashed! They didn't have a chance!" Snotlout boasted, holding a chicken thigh above his head, like he was going to bring it down on a nonexistent dragon. The smug look on his face was nothing but irritating to Astrid, especially since it seemed the Terrors left more of a mark on him than he thought he did them. His face was covered in scratches, and his helmet had a few scorch marks. Proof that the littlest beasts were merely playing with him. A Terrible Terror is known for its accuracy in aim. If it wanted to hit you with its fiery breath, it was going to hit you with its fiery breath. It was one of the best, never missing; its skill only rivaled by that of a Night Fury. Then there was the cloud of Terrors that flew off. If Snotlout wanted to boast about his skill, he had to be sure no one noticed his targets got away, unlike what his story suggested. Overall, the boy was just being ridiculous.

"Oh yeah? Well we took down a Gronckle...in one go!" Tuffnut boasted right back, sporting a similar smug expression. Ruffnut snorted and took the opportunity to punch her brother in the gut.

"But we lost it because of you. All I needed was one shot and the thing would have been dead. But you couldn't let me get the shot, could you." Ruffnut blamed, taking a drink of mead from her mug. Tuffnut huffed and elbowed his sister in the side, making her spit out her mead.

"Who said you had to take the shot? What if I wanted to kill the Gronckle?" Instead of getting an answer, Tuffnut received another punch to the gut, then an elbow to the jaw, followed by a tug of his hair. The twins then proceeded to fall off the bench and tussle on the ground of the Mead Hall.

Astrid rolled her eyes, wondering why she spent so much time in the presence of these fools. Then she remembered, they were the only ones close to her age. The only other age groups were adults and young children, which left either individuals who would treat them like children themselves or mini-individuals that did not understand them. They were sadly stuck relying on each other for entertainment.

"Wish Useless was here though...Then I could show him how much better I am than him," Snotlout voiced out, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose, "Then I'd show him that even though he did so good in Dragon Training, only real Vikings know how to fight on the field." He turned on the bench, leaning back on the table with his arm resting on it and the other hand bringing the chicken thigh to his mouth for a quick big bite. Fishlegs sat across from him, rubbing his hands together under the table. He did not speak a word.

"And you're a real Viking?" Astrid spoke up, now sharpening her axe with a wet stone on top of the table. She did not look up from her task as she expressed her thoughts, "Although I'm not fond of his achievement in Dragon Training, I doubt you'd be the better Viking in a real raid. After all, he did better than you in the ring…and with only his two hands." She took great satisfaction in herself when the boy quickly turned around in his seat, slamming a fist on the table.

"What do you know?!" Snotlout countered, not liking the idea that someone still thought his useless cousin was better than he was when Useless was the one to get taken. Then he did a double-take, remembering exactly who he was speaking to, "I mean…you don't know that! He could have fallen under the pressure of a battlefield of dragons, probably wouldn't have been able to handle them unless he took them on one-on-one," now certain that he corrected his rude behavior at his crush with his less harsh statement, he continued on to boost, "But I did, and I'm still alive with a handful of dragon kills on me." he leaned back into the table again, the smug expression now back.

Fishlegs looked to Astrid to see her scoff, ignoring the Jorgenson to complete her task. He wrung his hands again, not sure what to do or say. He was still shaken up by the chase with the Zippleback. He still wondered how he made it out of that situation. He likes to think it let him go because the other dragons were retreating, but a small part of him was certain it was because the Zippleback was bored with its prey. Adding to that, Snotlout bringing up Hiccup only seemed to make him more nervous.

In the last six months, all he could think about was how a group of four dragons (five, if one wanted to count the Terror) captured Hiccup. His disappearance was discovered quite early in the morning, not long after the break of dawn. Moreover, for him to go to the Kill Ring and have five dragons somehow get out of their pens without struggle and not make a sound? Would Hiccup not have screamed or a dragon roared? None of the facts made sense, but it was the only logical explanation without more information to go on.

"Don't you guys ever wonder what happened to him?" Fishlegs murmured, not expecting the others to hear. But they did.

"Taken by the dragons that escaped. Probably dead now. Everyone knows that already, Fish." Ruffnut – now up and sitting from her fight with her brother – answered in a tone that implied that what she said was obvious. To most of the villagers, it was. To someone of Fishlegs' intelligence, and to someone who knew of an unspoken piece to the puzzle like Astrid, it was not.

"But it doesn't make sense! How in the world did five dragons escape without force out of pens that could only be opened from the outside?! How in the world did Hiccup wake up to go to the dragons' pens, get captured, and not one person heard someone scream in panic or for help?! The village has some deep sleepers, but no one would be able to sleep through a dragon attack. There was no proof of any struggle or…anything! They just all disappeared!" Fishlegs was now biting his nails, breathing harshly. It became a habit ever since that day. The thought that dragons could be smart enough to escape thought to be inescapable pens and also quietly kidnap one of their own? It was terrifying!

"Then maybe Useless was just stupid enough to try and take them all at once and let them out. And being the worthless baby he is, he was probably too scared to scream. I'm surprised they didn't find a piss puddle!" Snotlout laughed, Tuffnut and Ruffnut joining in. Fishlegs and Astrid did not find the theory as funny, but neither did they find it ridiculous. They looked to each other, seeming to communicate through expression. Despite the joking tone and the insulting statements, what if that was exactly what happened?

"Alright yeh three! That'll be enough! The lad's dead! Lost his life while the rest of his village was asleep, not aware that one of their own was being taken! Instead of insultin' his memory, why don't yeh go to bed and wonder what yeh could have done to keep him with us. Odin knows he wouldn't be blabberin' behind yeh backs like this if it was the other way around. Now, off with yeh!" Gobber demanded, wanting the teens out of his sight now that he discovered what they were discussing. He had overheard them from across the Mead Hall and came to see what they were all gossiping about. Only to witness the insulting of a dead man's memory, by ones who once considered him a friend.

With a frustrated Gobber watching, the teens all abandoned their meals to stand stiffly, leaving the Mead Hall in embarrassment: more embarrassment in the case of the three. Astrid scoffed at Snotlout as she passed him, making her way to her home, ashamed of her so-called friend. She always knew there was a reason why she hated him. At least she gave up her selfish desires in turn for respecting a dead man's memory.

Fishlegs just watched as Astrid turned left to go home, and the others turned right to their homes. He stood outside of the Mead Hall and turned to look up at the sky. The pieces of Hiccup's disappearance just did not add up. Fishlegs could not really explain it, but he had a feeling the story of what really happened would never be figured out until it was personally presented to them by an eyewitness or Hiccup himself. Fishlegs looked back into the Mead Hall through the still opened doors.

He could see Stoick, his chief, sitting alone at a table in the far back of the hall. He was looking at the sheet of paper again that most did not notice but Fishlegs did. He swore that he could see a longing look in his chief's eyes everytime Stoick took out that paper. Fishlegs guessed it had something to do with the true story behind Hiccup's disappearance, but it could just be something Hiccup had written one day and Stoick kept it with him as a reminder. Either way, it had something to do with Hiccup. In addition, it was bringing out more emotion in the chief than Fishlegs has seen in years.

Deep down, Stoick missed his son like nothing else.

~*~Safety and Peace~*~

The hall was silent aside from the scraping of a brush against the floor. Sitting in the middle of an empty, long, and wide hallway was a girl of about fifteen years of age. She was on her knees, scrubbing away at the almost pristine floors. Her clothes, though just rags of an old dress, were as clean as she could possibly get them. She would not forgive herself if her own clothes kept her from finishing the job.

With a sigh, the girl reached up to swipe aside her long black bangs. She was never allowed the use of a knife for long enough to cut her hair, let alone get the eyes of her masters off her to get the chance. When given the use of potentially harmful tools or chemicals, there were always eyes on her. Which was why her hair reached down her back and to her waist. Black, long, and a tangled mess; she wasn't a fan of her hair.

When she brushed against her cheek a little too roughly, she winced, as the movement irritated the cut on her soft skin. Although she was not allowed the privilege of having sharp tools in her possession, there were others who did. Others who took advantage of the tools instead of using them for the proper tasks.

Hearing footsteps coming in the distance, the girl got back to work, scrubbing twice as hard at the last square foot of floor needed to be cleaned today. She dipped the brush into the bucket full of water at her side, getting it just soaked enough before pulling it back out and putting the brush back to the floor, scrubbing once again.

The sound of the footsteps grew louder as two small children came around a corner, running as they giggled along. The young Lord James followed closely behind the young Miss Emily as they made quick work of the distance between the corner and the teenage girl on the floor. The girl started to smile fondly at the adorable children until she spotted the trail they left behind.

Mud.

Holding back a scream, the teenager sat back on her legs, watching as her recently cleaned floors became a muddy mess. Hours. She had spent hours scrubbing at these floors to make them perfect. She was not a perfectionist, but her master's woman was and she would not stand for anything less. Now this meant she would be on her knees for hours more as she scrubbed away at the muddy trail until the floor was as pristine as the rest of the manor. She was already held up into the late morning awake because her master did not believe the silverware was shining enough. Then her master's woman had woken her up early in the morning, telling her that her new chore for the day was to scrub every floor of the manor. Twice.

She could not help but tear-up a bit.

It was young James who noticed out of the corner of his eye the look on the teenage girl's face. He turned to see her staring at the mud he and his little sister left behind. Seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, he automatically felt bad for what they had done. She was a very sweet girl who did nothing but smile at the two of them even through the obvious pain his parents put her through.

"Marietta..?" he called out, his sister stopping at the sound of his voice. Emily looked back to see her family's maid down on her knees, looking solemnly at the trail that she and James made all the way down the hall.

The teenager, Marietta, slowly turned to look into the eyes of the eldest of the Bennett children. The young James had always had a soft spot for her no matter what his parents said of her in front of him – most of those rumors spread by Lady Bennett herself. He was told to treat her how she deserved; like a maid that was paid in scraps to stay alive, like a slave. James was too rebellious to blindly follow his parents' words, even at his age. Marietta adored him for it.

"We're sorry, Marietta. We didn't mean to…" James apologized. Little Emily stood aside her brother, nodding.

"Yeah…we sorry, Marita." She mumbled. Her mother always told her how only the most beautiful of women were allowed the rewards that she and mother owned and occasionally received. Lady Bennett told her that Marietta was nothing but an ugly work girl and so she did not deserve the luxuries her family enjoyed. This was where Emily was confused. She always believed Marietta to be very pretty, even when dressed in dirty clothes and with smudges on her face. Marietta was very beautiful.

"Children!" a crude feminine voice called out sharply. The two kids turned to the owner of the voice while Marietta turned to look down at the ground. Eye contact always resulted in harsh punishment.

A woman dressed in very regal wear stood only several yards away, standing straight and proud. She had her hands laying over her mid-section, her little finger twitching in irritation. She stayed as far away from the mud trail as possible, to keep her long floor length gown out of harm's way. Her flared over-sleeves and long under-sleeves hide most of her skin from view, with pearl white gloves covering her hands to complete the look. Her gold waist belt emphasized her thin figure while the pearls around her neck gave her a very sophisticated look. Her strange half-up/half-down hair-do gave her an extra few inches for height while also displaying her also waist length golden blonde hair. Lady Bennett's hazel green eyes bore into Marietta's as she spoke to the children, "There is no need for apology. The girl knows her place, and that is on her knees and finishing her chores. Go on, and do not let me find you conversing with the help again."

"Yes Mother." James replies, taking his sister's hand and pulling her along. He looked back to Marietta with an apologetic glance before continuing on to their rooms. Marietta did not see the expression, still staring down at the ground but now wringing her hands, worried about what Lady Bennett would do to her.

"You will clean these halls once more. I want to see my reflection in the tile as I walk. You have until sundown to complete my demands or you will be punished. Do I make myself clear, girl?" Lady Bennett ordered as she stood before the fifteen year old on the ground. Without thinking, Marietta's head snaps up to complain.

"But my Lady, it took me almost the whole morning just to scrub it down once! I couldn't possibly finish bef–"

"Insolent wench!" Marietta leans away as a hand comes flying to make an impact with her already sore cheek. Her eyes scrunch closed as she awaits the sharp pain of the Lady's quick hand.

It never came.

Marietta opened her eyes to see Lady Bennett's hand only inches away from her face, with another hand holding it from touching her. She looked up to see Lord Bennett holding his wife's wrist in a firm grip. The Lady herself is shocked that her hand was stilled.

"Richard..?" she says in disbelief.

"Astoria, my love. Do not waste your energy on this girl. You will only hurt your precious hand," he brought his wife's hand up to his lips for a peck. His dark brown hair fell out of its carefully slicked back style and into his eyes. He looked up at his wife with brown eyes twinkling in the fire light of the equally spaced torches along the hallway's walls, "Go on, my dear. I have called for a warm bath to be prepared for you. I will deal with this…girl." He looks down at Marietta and she turns away.

"Why, thank you, Richard darling. A warm bath sounds lovely." Astoria sent him a warm smile before turning her cold eyes to Marietta as she walks away, picking up her skirt as she maneuvered around the muddy floors. Richard stood as he watched her go before turning his attention back on Marietta.

"Stand, girl," is all he says and Marietta is quick to get up off her knees. She did not look up from her trembling hands. Richard stepped up closer and grabbed Marietta's chin. As he lifted her head to make her look him in the eye, he stared at her body. He looked her up and down slowly, taking in every inch of visible skin, every layer of loose fabric, every curve of young teenage girl. A smirk played at his lips. He stared at her chest as he spoke, "But you are not a little girl any more…are you?" he looked back up to her eyes, that arrogant smirk still a part of his perverted expression. Marietta shivered, but not in pleasure. Richard dropped his hand from her chin and took a step back, "Get to work." He walked off after his wife, hands behind his back, back straight with arrogance.

Marietta was shocked and did not immediately begin to work. However, when Lord Bennett looked over his shoulder at her with hungry eyes, Marietta dropped to her knees to start scrubbing away at the mud left behind by the children. She did not dare look up.

When the footsteps disappeared and Lord Bennett was no longer in view or even in earshot, Marietta's quick moving hands slacked. With a sob, she brought her hand to cover her mouth to stop any more from escaping. She sat back on her legs before bringing her legs out from under her and scooting to sit against a wall. She brought her knees up to her chest as tears fell, remembering what that pig of a man had done to her not a week earlier. She remembers it like it was yesterday, with her sobbing as he forced himself upon her. She was left sore for days.

Deep crystal blue eyes tearfully closed.

Niets is waar. Alles is toegestaan.

"The answer to your question will arise when you no longer need to ask it." – Al Mualim


Creed Language: Dutch


Proper Creed Translation Credit: A guest who went by Claw

Creature Credit: Tongue-twister Dragon from HTTYD

Originally Posted: March 15, 2013

Recently Revised: February 10, 2015