Methos awoke to find Djinn kneeling next to him, eyes on the ground,
posture completely compliant. She held a bowl of water out before her,
offering it to him. He sat up, and took the bowl from her. She didn't
move, save to lower her hands. He drank the water, and found it had a
light fruit flavor. He finished the water and handed the bowl back to her.
She set it aside, eyes still downcast, still kneeling.
"What did you add to the water?" he asked her, rising to gather his clothes.
"Just a drop of juice from the saved berries," she responded in a barely audible voice. She hadn't raised her eyes once, nor had she moved aside from moving the bowl. Methos looked at her suspiciously. He didn't trust that a girl who had tried to steal away in the middle of the night would be so submissive in the morning. Keeping his eyes on her, he gathered up some cleaner clothing and dressed. She didn't move at all while he did so, though he thought her eyes followed his movements. When he was dressed, he motioned for her to rise. Eyes still down, she did, waiting for instruction to do anything more.
"Bring me some food, girl. Meat, and fruit. And wine. Bring it here," he ordered, motioning to the opening of the tent. She vanished into the early morning light beyond the tent-flap, silent. He tied his belt on, checking his sword and smaller knife. He sat back on his furs, waiting for Djinn to return.
She slipped back into the tent without a sound, and knelt beside him, holding a platter piled high with fresh cooked meat and ripe fruits. He took the platter from her, tearing at the haunch of roast. She remained kneeling, as submissive as before. She appeared to be looking at the ground, but he could tell her eyes were on him.
"What is this, girl?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously.
"Roast pig," she responded quietly, not moving her eyes at all.
"Not the food, girl, your attitude. What are you planning?"
"I'm not planning anything," she responded, still quiet and calm.
"You will address me as Master, and I don't believe you. Last night you tried to run, this morning you act like you've been here for years. What are you planning?"
"I'm not planning anything, master," she repeated, with a slight hint of defiance. "You caught me last night, and chose to simply warn me. You were kind... I wish to please you, so that you will keep me. I don't want to be turned over to one of them."
Methos set the platter of food aside. He grabbed her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to look directly into his eyes.
"And why," he asked slowly, "would you rather belong to me than to them?" The menace in his voice was clear, and he felt her stiffen slightly. Her eyes changed slightly, fading to grey as they had before.
"Because, Methos, I know who you are. I know who you will become. And I know the day will come when you will know as well. I see inside you, Methos, and it is you whom I desire to serve," she answered, voice echoing and deep. He saw her eyes flash back to blue, and she slumped slightly, as though the Seeing had drained her of strength. "Please," she asked, sounding normal once more, "please let me serve you. Don't make me obey one of them, I beg you!"
Methos, still staring directly into her eyes, saw the pleading, the desperation, and to no small degree, the stark terror she was feeling. He dropped her chin and she returned to staring at him while seeming to look at the ground. He wanted to strike her for her impudence, wanted to hand her over to Kronos so that she would learn her place. He wanted to, but he couldn't. The girl was begging him for help. She wanted to serve him. She had said as much herself. It was he she desired to serve.
"You will serve me, girl. You will serve my brothers should they ask it, but you will spend your nights here. I can't protect you from them, and what's more, I won't try to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," she responded, looking him full in the face. "I understand."
Methos shivered, and disguised it by reaching for the platter of food. She did understand, he didn't doubt it. She understood far more than what he'd said. He began to tear at his food again, and she dropped her eyes back to the sandy floor. He saw her eyes flicker to the food with faint longing. She hadn't eaten yet, nor had she eaten the day before. He tossed her a piece of fruit, which she caught as though it were as fragile as an egg. She looked at it, then at him, as though unsure what to do with it.
"Go on, eat. You don't need permission to eat."
"Yes, master. Thank you." She ate the round fruit slowly, in little nibbles, savoring the rich flavor. It was sweet and smooth, with a honey- like flavor. Watching her eat, Methos was overcome by hunger, but not for the food. He watched her finish the fruit and lick her fingers clean of the juice. She looked up at him, aware of his intense scrutiny. Her expressive features took on a questioning look as his eyes roamed across her body. She was wrapped entirely in the blanket he had handed her last night, and it hugged her curves tightly, clinging in all the right places. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.
"Come here, girl," Methos ordered. She hesitated, but went to him. He knew she was afraid, it was clear in the slant of her shoulders and the dilation of her pupils. Her fear enticed him, increased his desire. He reached for her, pulling her down to the furs. His hands roamed across her flesh, testing her, searching the softness of her skin. She shivered beneath his touch, fear tightening her chest and making it hard for her to breathe. He slipped the blanket away from her skin, dropping it beside them. She was completely unclothed, save for the hunter's claw around her throat. He lifted it, examining the sharp sickle.
"What is this?" he asked her, running his fingers down along the leather strap that held it around her neck.
"I.. It's the claw of a spotted plains cat. The one that runs very fast. The village headman gave it to me as a symbol of status," she answered nervously, trying to sit in a way that would cover most of her skin. He glanced up at her.
"Why a cat-claw? Why not gold, or crystal?" Unsure, she shifted slightly, unconsciously brushing her long hair back from her shoulders, leaving her skin bare.
"Our people are... were... the people of the Plains Cat. The cat's claw represented our totem," she answered, hastily amending it with "Master."
Methos set the claw back against her chest, brushing her skin lightly with his fingers. She blushed, and tried to pull away without moving. He caught her up and pulled her against him, letting his fingers slide along her skin. She held very still, confused. She felt her body respond, and was torn between her fear and her desire. He sensed the change, the slight difference in tension, and responded, growing more forceful. He was still gentle, careful not to hurt her, but he began to put more energy into his exploring caresses. Tentatively, hesitantly, she responded, gliding her fingers over his hands, along his arms, to his shoulders. He indicated that she should help him to remove his clothing. Trembling more in confusion than fear, she did. His shirt came off, then his pants, then timidly, she removed his loincloth.
He pressed her down against the furs, pinning her beneath him. She tensed, her ordeal the evening before clear in her mind. His determined touches were gentle, though, and she relaxed slightly. With a delicacy he didn't know he possessed, he took her, coaxing responses from her rather than forcing her. When he had had his fill of her body, he lay back on the furs. She lay still beside him, confused and frightened more by her response than by him.
After a time, he sat up, prompting her to roll to her knees, once again kneeling before him, completely submissive.
"Help me with my clothes, girl," he said, reaching for his loincloth.
"Yes, master," she responded, gathering his discarded pants and shirt and bringing them to him. She helped him lace them back up once he had put them on. He liked having her help him. He liked the feeling of her brushing against him as she moved. If only, he thought, if only I could keep her from Kronos...
"What did you add to the water?" he asked her, rising to gather his clothes.
"Just a drop of juice from the saved berries," she responded in a barely audible voice. She hadn't raised her eyes once, nor had she moved aside from moving the bowl. Methos looked at her suspiciously. He didn't trust that a girl who had tried to steal away in the middle of the night would be so submissive in the morning. Keeping his eyes on her, he gathered up some cleaner clothing and dressed. She didn't move at all while he did so, though he thought her eyes followed his movements. When he was dressed, he motioned for her to rise. Eyes still down, she did, waiting for instruction to do anything more.
"Bring me some food, girl. Meat, and fruit. And wine. Bring it here," he ordered, motioning to the opening of the tent. She vanished into the early morning light beyond the tent-flap, silent. He tied his belt on, checking his sword and smaller knife. He sat back on his furs, waiting for Djinn to return.
She slipped back into the tent without a sound, and knelt beside him, holding a platter piled high with fresh cooked meat and ripe fruits. He took the platter from her, tearing at the haunch of roast. She remained kneeling, as submissive as before. She appeared to be looking at the ground, but he could tell her eyes were on him.
"What is this, girl?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously.
"Roast pig," she responded quietly, not moving her eyes at all.
"Not the food, girl, your attitude. What are you planning?"
"I'm not planning anything," she responded, still quiet and calm.
"You will address me as Master, and I don't believe you. Last night you tried to run, this morning you act like you've been here for years. What are you planning?"
"I'm not planning anything, master," she repeated, with a slight hint of defiance. "You caught me last night, and chose to simply warn me. You were kind... I wish to please you, so that you will keep me. I don't want to be turned over to one of them."
Methos set the platter of food aside. He grabbed her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to look directly into his eyes.
"And why," he asked slowly, "would you rather belong to me than to them?" The menace in his voice was clear, and he felt her stiffen slightly. Her eyes changed slightly, fading to grey as they had before.
"Because, Methos, I know who you are. I know who you will become. And I know the day will come when you will know as well. I see inside you, Methos, and it is you whom I desire to serve," she answered, voice echoing and deep. He saw her eyes flash back to blue, and she slumped slightly, as though the Seeing had drained her of strength. "Please," she asked, sounding normal once more, "please let me serve you. Don't make me obey one of them, I beg you!"
Methos, still staring directly into her eyes, saw the pleading, the desperation, and to no small degree, the stark terror she was feeling. He dropped her chin and she returned to staring at him while seeming to look at the ground. He wanted to strike her for her impudence, wanted to hand her over to Kronos so that she would learn her place. He wanted to, but he couldn't. The girl was begging him for help. She wanted to serve him. She had said as much herself. It was he she desired to serve.
"You will serve me, girl. You will serve my brothers should they ask it, but you will spend your nights here. I can't protect you from them, and what's more, I won't try to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," she responded, looking him full in the face. "I understand."
Methos shivered, and disguised it by reaching for the platter of food. She did understand, he didn't doubt it. She understood far more than what he'd said. He began to tear at his food again, and she dropped her eyes back to the sandy floor. He saw her eyes flicker to the food with faint longing. She hadn't eaten yet, nor had she eaten the day before. He tossed her a piece of fruit, which she caught as though it were as fragile as an egg. She looked at it, then at him, as though unsure what to do with it.
"Go on, eat. You don't need permission to eat."
"Yes, master. Thank you." She ate the round fruit slowly, in little nibbles, savoring the rich flavor. It was sweet and smooth, with a honey- like flavor. Watching her eat, Methos was overcome by hunger, but not for the food. He watched her finish the fruit and lick her fingers clean of the juice. She looked up at him, aware of his intense scrutiny. Her expressive features took on a questioning look as his eyes roamed across her body. She was wrapped entirely in the blanket he had handed her last night, and it hugged her curves tightly, clinging in all the right places. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.
"Come here, girl," Methos ordered. She hesitated, but went to him. He knew she was afraid, it was clear in the slant of her shoulders and the dilation of her pupils. Her fear enticed him, increased his desire. He reached for her, pulling her down to the furs. His hands roamed across her flesh, testing her, searching the softness of her skin. She shivered beneath his touch, fear tightening her chest and making it hard for her to breathe. He slipped the blanket away from her skin, dropping it beside them. She was completely unclothed, save for the hunter's claw around her throat. He lifted it, examining the sharp sickle.
"What is this?" he asked her, running his fingers down along the leather strap that held it around her neck.
"I.. It's the claw of a spotted plains cat. The one that runs very fast. The village headman gave it to me as a symbol of status," she answered nervously, trying to sit in a way that would cover most of her skin. He glanced up at her.
"Why a cat-claw? Why not gold, or crystal?" Unsure, she shifted slightly, unconsciously brushing her long hair back from her shoulders, leaving her skin bare.
"Our people are... were... the people of the Plains Cat. The cat's claw represented our totem," she answered, hastily amending it with "Master."
Methos set the claw back against her chest, brushing her skin lightly with his fingers. She blushed, and tried to pull away without moving. He caught her up and pulled her against him, letting his fingers slide along her skin. She held very still, confused. She felt her body respond, and was torn between her fear and her desire. He sensed the change, the slight difference in tension, and responded, growing more forceful. He was still gentle, careful not to hurt her, but he began to put more energy into his exploring caresses. Tentatively, hesitantly, she responded, gliding her fingers over his hands, along his arms, to his shoulders. He indicated that she should help him to remove his clothing. Trembling more in confusion than fear, she did. His shirt came off, then his pants, then timidly, she removed his loincloth.
He pressed her down against the furs, pinning her beneath him. She tensed, her ordeal the evening before clear in her mind. His determined touches were gentle, though, and she relaxed slightly. With a delicacy he didn't know he possessed, he took her, coaxing responses from her rather than forcing her. When he had had his fill of her body, he lay back on the furs. She lay still beside him, confused and frightened more by her response than by him.
After a time, he sat up, prompting her to roll to her knees, once again kneeling before him, completely submissive.
"Help me with my clothes, girl," he said, reaching for his loincloth.
"Yes, master," she responded, gathering his discarded pants and shirt and bringing them to him. She helped him lace them back up once he had put them on. He liked having her help him. He liked the feeling of her brushing against him as she moved. If only, he thought, if only I could keep her from Kronos...