Ch 12 - Under the Guise of Negotiations
Caution. This chapter is for mature audiences only because of its VERY mature themes.
Garrosh Hellscream recognized the portal room of the mage quarter in Undercity instantly. The Forsaken mages had teleported him to their home base. It was frustrating, but recoverable. At least someone seeking the young woman would not look for her here. He held her over his shoulder. Bruised and knocked out she hardly looked like the prize she was. Her robe was torn and her arm bled from near her shoulder. She was light and he continued to carry her as if she were produce not a living creature.
He nodded to the Steward who led the way to the chambers the Horde leaders used when visiting the city of death. The foul stench made even the battle hardened orc's stomach heave until he was able to calm it by getting away from the majority of the undead people.
He walked into the guest chambers and dropped the bound woman unceremoniously on the bed. She moaned softly, but did not come to. He smiled as he looked at the bruise on her temple. She would be out for a while and would have a headache when she woke. He would help that. For now he would write the ransom demand for her.
He knew full well who she was. Helene, priestess of Stormwind, was the daughter of Rhenn, the King's ear and diplomat. Once because of that young woman he had been shamed when Thrall had rebucked him for harassing her when she was with child. This was one of the very children she had been carrying at the time. So many years ago, but the new Warchief never forgot a grudge. He had challenged Thrall in the Ring of Valor and though he allowed him to go with dignity Hellscream had assassins follow the noble orc into hiding and attempt to kill them. None had come back with Thrall's head and it was rumored that he had fled not to a Horde city for shelter, but to the Alliance. The former warchief had always had a heart for Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Lady Rhenn, and Tirion Fordring. Tirion, Garrosh could respect because he was a man of honor, but the two women were fragile and weak.
Garrosh never did like humans. They were proud and did not care for orcs. Though if Thrall was among them perhaps he was of some use for now after all.
He sat at the desk and began to write the ransom demand. Among his demands was to have Thrall's hands brought to him nailed to a block. This would not kill the once great Warchief, but it would keep him from fighting and rising against Hellscream. He also demanded gold and food. These were natural requirements for a prisoner of war.
He ordered food and drink. At least the undead had food worth eating. He was counting the minutes until he could return to his own capital away from this place he considered a hell hole. The Forsaken had their use, he had to admit. Personally he saw them as front line mules against the Scourge.
Helene stirred. He turned and looked at her. She shifted and lifted on sleek leg up. It revealed her pink flesh to her thigh. Garrosh swallowed as he watched her wake. This fragile human was strangely attractive. She lifted her bound hands to her face and groaned softly.
He rose to his feet and poured a glass of water for her. He stood over her and waited for her to open her eyes. She gasped when she saw him and tried to squirm away. His free hand shot out and he held her ankle. She whimpered feeling her tender skin bruise.
"Hold still wretch." He barked.
She held still and looked up at the large Mag'har, one of the uncorrupted from the Outlands. Her breath came in quick gasps. "Overlord…Warchief Hellscream." She blinked knowing him instantly by his brown skin and arrogance. His thick tusks were longer and more pointed than Thrall's.
"So you know me. Good." He said. He lowered a hand to her neck and helped her sit up enough to drink.
"How long was I sleeping?" She sipped the clear life giving liquid slowly. Her mouth was parched and she lifted a hand to touch her lip as he retracted the glass slowly from her. "I am bound?"
"Nearly four hours." He said. "You are my prisoner. You are a priestess. We would not want you to be able to cast a spell on me."
She smiled. "This would stop me?" She asked.
"I could bind them behind you and bind you to the bed." He said laying her back. "Remember I am the captor, my dear." He smiled and she grimaced.
She sat up. Her robe was torn and bloodied in two places. She looked up at him suspiciously. He chuckled lightly at her look. "If I had wished to have had my way with you I would have already. My goal is not to send you back broken to your people."
"Than what I am I here?" She asked. She looked at the dark walls. "Where ever here is…?"
"This is Undercity." He said simply.
"This is Lordaeron?" She asked looking upwards. "The Ruins that the Forsaken claimed?" The chiseled stone ceiling made her think more of a old gothic cathedral built to darkness and where the light never touched. She shivered a little and looked at her arm.
"What remains of it, yes." Hellcream nodded looking upwards. He lifted a strip of cloth. "Come let me see to your wounds. You have three that I have counted, do you have more?" He asked her as he started to bind her arm with surprising gentleness.
He then poured water into a basin and gently dipped a cloth into it. He gently reached around her head to steady her as he reached to press it first to her cracked lip. She jumped back and lifted her arms defensively at his closeness. He smelled of battle and loam, but it was not as wholly unappealing as she would have expected. She too must smell…like a battle.
Thrall never smelled she had noticed. She had heard her brother and the former Warchief joking about unbathed orcs driving away the insects and predators, the Thrall always smelled earthy, like tea, a deep rich smell she could not place. It was a smell she had learned to recognize as familiar and safe. Much like Highlord Tirion Fordring often smelled of earth, metal, and horses, but for the warrior paladin it fit. Her mother always smelled of cinnamon and jasmine. That smell was the most secure smell she knew. It was home.
He looked at her his eyes narrowing. "Come then, this may sting, but it is hardly worth that reaction." He admonished her as if she were a child.
She lowered her arms and allowed him to continue his ministrations. He then washed it out in the bowl and wrung it out again. This time he pressed it to her temple where the butt of his ax had cracked the skin. The blood had dried down her the side of her face and still oozed a little. He was gentle even as she winced. He nodded a little and wiped the dried blood away.
He rose and lifted a strip of cloth. She knew by the color it was Mageweave. He formed a thick part over her wounded temple and then wrapped it about her head gently. He inadvertently touched the tip of her teardrop ear with his finger tip. The gentle touch made her jump startled.
He blinked and then shook his head and moved away. It was well. His proximity had started to alarm her. She, like her mother, was small for a woman. Willowy boned her bone structure was more like her mother's high elf side as were her high cheek bones and ears. Her rounded face and tenacity for life came from her father.
He walked to the table where the food was. "Come, eat, you must be famished."
"I…" She paused watching him.
He chuckled and picked a piece of bread up and ate tore into it watching her. She for her part was starving. She got up and dropped to her knees before the table and began to eagerly eat the foods there. It was a simple meal, but for someone who had not eaten since daybreak it was like ambrosia.
He watched her in amusement. "I am fairly certain that is not how a woman in the court of Stormwind eats."
She looked up at him in mid-chew and gave him a hostile look. He chuckled more and poured her a glass of wine to wash the bread and cheese and cold meats down.
She chewed more slowly and moved to the chair as she drank the wine. It helped the pain she felt in her limbs.
She looked up at him. "You need supplies. I can be the bartering tool for them." She said. "What do you require?" She asked. "I can make the supplies come to you for my freedom."
"I want more." Garrosh said.
"What more?" She asked.
"Thrall's hands and promise that he will never try to raise the Horde against me." He said simply.
"His hands? That is barbaric."
"It makes sure he can never fight me again." Hellscream said watching her. "It is a guarantee."
She looked at him and spat on the floor before him. "I will not ask for that."
"Well enough. I already have in the ransom demand." He said lifting it. "I will be sending it to Varian soon." He walked behind her and she stiffened. He sniffed the air and smiled. "You fear me. Good."
"I fear no one." She said looking ahead.
"You are a poor liar, my lady."
"And you are too close, warchief. A woman must have her space."
He chuckled. "I will have a bath made ready so you may…refresh yourself." He said sniffing her. He lifted a lock of hair and sniffed it causing her to inhale sharply. "I will return when you are bathed and more yourself priestess." He said and walked toward the door. He lifted her hands and cut her bonds. "If you think to harm me, I will send you back in pieces." He said lowly. Knowing he could make good on this threat she lowered her hands instantly as he stepped to her side. He had ordered Thrall be murdered. He could do the same to her.
When he left she exhaled and drew her knees to her chest and began to cry.
The bath was brought to the lady. She composed herself as the Forsaken men carried in the large metal basin and others carried in hot and cold water. The water was too warm so she sat by one of the columns as she watched the steam rise in wispy formations. She sat with her knees to her chest thinking about how to escape. She knew that was impossible here, a human among the undead. She would get ten feet before she was caught and brought back to Garrosh, assuming of course the restless undead let her live.
She reached out breaking her reverie and dipped her hand into the water. It was hot to the touch, but not scalding. She could bathe in this if she was slow and careful. She noticed there was a fresh robe and more wine.
She took the wine and then stripped her battle torn robe. Her circlet, breeches, and bracers followed. She sighed and took a sip of the wine and then dipped her foot into the water. She sucked in her breath at the heat, but held it. Soon her skin acclimated and she stood on one leg. The second seemed easier, but that could have been her imagination.
She then splashed water up her legs to her back. The heat stung and left her skin red where it touched, but soon it felt comfortable. She took another sip of wine and looked at what soaps the Forsaken had brought.
Garrosh had gone and spoken to Sylvanas about some matters. He returned to the rooms when he heard splashing. The girl was not done with her bath. He shook his head. He would give her all the time she needed to feel human.
He watched by and froze when he realized the door was not closed and a small slit allowed him to see into the room. He felt his mouth do dry when he saw her. She was kneeling in the basin. Her bare back was marred by a couple bruises that were turning black and blue from the battle. Her skin was soft and pinkish red. She was tipped forward and he noticed she was washing her hair. He could hear her scrubbing away at her scalp from where he stood. Gods, she would remove her scalp is she continued. He waited and watched her then duck and use a small cup to dump water over her head.
He was not sure what compelled him to enter the room unbidden and reach down to grip her hand to keep the second bucket full from falling over her thick soapy golden tresses. She froze started and turned to look up at him. He looked down at her and swallowed seeming her side and curve of her bare breast.
"You were…getting your dressing…wet." He said.
She glared at him. "In my country, men knock before they enter a chamber where they know a woman is." She said.
"In my country people do as they please. Privacy is a luxury very few know or even wish for." He countered. "Come." He said meeting her gaze as she sat up wrapping and arm about her bosom, though it did little to hide her. He swallowed. "Come, I will help wash out your hair."
She seemed to consider this and then nodded and leaned back slightly. He reached down and drew water. He let it fall from her forehead back. He poured it so it avoided the tender area where she had also thankfully avoided with the soap. After two more bucketfuls her thick hair was clean of soap. He ran his fingers through the soft thick hair. He had never felt something so sleek.
She straightened. "My thanks, Warchief. Now can I finish my bath alone?" She asked pointedly looking at him. Her hair was slicked back and her teardrop ears poked out to the side of her head. She blinked as a drop of water found her eyelid.
He nodded and rose to his feet and walked toward the door. He heard her shift and suddenly felt his animalist urges swallow him. He had been long without female companionship because the war took him from his people. There were plenty enough that were willing to bed with the Warchief and perhaps carry his child to gain them prestige, but there was no mate among them. Perhaps this was why Thall had never mate-bonded with a female. He could not find his equal among them.
Garrosh turned back to the human was she lifted herself from under the water. She had the intelligence he needed in a mate. The intelligence, the grace, the…
He walked back to her as she rose to her feet and reached for a towel her eyes closed. He cupped the back of her head with one large hand tangling his fist in the beautiful hair that physically attracted him and pressed his mouth to hers in a hard bruising kiss. Her eyes flew open. Her first reaction was to step backwards and push away.
He caught her as she nearly tripped over the edge of the tub and gazed at her. He firmly held her wrist in his hand.
"Let go of me!" She screamed in his face not the least bit thankful.
His blood was heated and he looked down at her lithe body. So fragile and yet so ripe for the plucking. He smiled ruthlessly. "No one will come to your aid, my dear." He said with satisfaction
"King Varian and my brother will kill you." She warned.
"I know." He said releasing her hair and moving the hand down to cup one of her breasts.
She gasped. "I will not rest until I see you dead!" She cursed and spat at his face. He grinned at her and then reached for her other hand as she tried to evade him.
"I know." He said. He shrugged and bodily lifted her out of the tub and over his shoulder once more. She cried out as he still held her wrist and squirmed to get free. He planted his free hand on her firm buttock and held her. If she intended escape it has the opposite effect. Her squirming enflamed him all the more for her. He turned his head. She smelled clean and very feminine which made him harden instantly more than he already was.
He lifted his hand and as she tried to move to get off him he brought his hand down on her buttock cheek with a loud slap. "Be still." He commanded.
She did not heed him.
He sighed and threw her bodily to the bed. He gazed at her as she laid there a moment stunned as he began to remove his clothing. She blinked and realized his intent and tired to move from the bed. He dove and caught her arm. He violently twisted it up behind her. There was a loud pop as her elbow and a bone snapped.
She cried out and whirled trying to attack him. He merely laughed and caught her other hand. He forced both wrists above her head. She yelped and struggled kicking with her legs. He gripped one with bruising pressure and flipped her easily onto her knees and hands.
She cried out as her injured arm gave and he dug his fingers into the backs of her legs forcing them apart. One hand planted on her back to keep her still, the other gripped on leg in a bruising grip. He then kept her pressed down as he released himself.
The girl was crying and fighting harder. He was beyond playing games. She would be his and now. He reached for her again and pressed himself deep into her. He felt the resistance and momentarily, fleetingly was apologetic. She was virgin and taking a man as large as he was in her the first time would be very painful. Part of him wondered how such a creature had not had lovers lining the streets to have her favors. Then his pride took over. He was her first. She made and outcry and struggled to try and turn over so she could kick him or get him off her.
Her warmth was captivating around him. He pulled himself out and then pressed in again. He reached between them. She struggled in alarm as she felt him exploring her tender area. She grew more alarmed that her body was betraying her.
Garrosh bent his head down and nuzzled her almost affectionately as the hand that had been on her back moved to her hip. His other hand lifted to his nose. Blood mixed with her own feminine smell made his heart race with need, a need he had never felt before. He needed to mate, NOW!
She still fought him and as her body betrayed her more she struggled harder trying to turn over and somehow kick him off. The damage was done, but perhaps she could knock him away and unconscious so she could escape. Death at this moment would be better than this shame and pain she felt.
She managed to kick her small foot into his inner thigh. Grunting, Garrosh was too focused in his aim to take heed of her as he rocked back and forth taking pleasure from her tight walls and the heady smell of blood and sweat.
Finally, he had enough of her fighting and reached a hand up and hit her temple where the fresh bruise was. Her vision swam and she whimpered before she passed out. Her body went limp with her body collapsing to the bed.
Garrosh caught her and pressed a pillow under her hips to keep her up so he could finish his task. Minutes later he cried out as his seed spilled into her and he panted. He collapsed over her. He came back to himself and realized he was likely crushing her. He lifted himself away and sat back on his knees as he looked at her.
Blood and his semen stained her thighs and the pillow. Her arm was at a grotesque angle to her body. She was unconscious. Her temple was bleeding again and it oozed down the side of her face. The reality of what he just done hit him. He had just raped her.
He gently laid her down on the bed and called for towels, hot water, and soothing herbs to be brought. He had not meant for this to happen and the enormity hit him like a punch. Holding her as a prisoner of war offered him an advantage. Raping her meant her family and anyone who knew her including Highlord Tirion Fordring and King Varian, the pompous king of Stormwind could avenge her. More over what happened if she got with child.
He swallowed that thought, though if she did carry his seed he would care for her and it as best as he could. She must hate him and he hardly blamed her. He dressed quickly after seeing to himself.
His attendants brought the items he had called for. Gently he set her arm and bandaged it to her body. He then washed between her thighs. There was more blood than he remembered from the first woman he had deflowered, but then she had been an orc as he was and designed to take someone of his girth and length. He had no doubt that he had bruised her internally for he had ripped her externally. He tenderly made a poultice to soothe the pain and heal the torn flesh of her most sensitive area. He then turned to and bound her head after he wiped the blood away.
He dressed her. It was like dressing a doll that was missing one limb. He had bound her broken arm to her body to heal it and her wrist that he also found broken by immobilizing it.
He rose to his feet and nodded as he saw the troll priest Ga'het standing at the door. The priest had an uncanny ability to be there when he was needed and just as Garrosh was going to summon him. Hellscream nodded to him. "I must meet with Sylvanas. Tend her hurts will you." He said. "The undead were savage to her when she tried to escape. I managed some, but she will need tea and other soothing herbs when she wakes."
The troll nodded and bowed. "Warchief." He said.
Hellscream leaned down to the girl who had curled into a ball and pressed back her hair in a somewhat affectionate gesture. It was not lost on the priest. It was the touch of a lover. "Bin mog g'thazagcha." He whispered to her.
The troll heard it and watched as the Warchief left the room looking somewhat lost.
The male troll looked at the woman. This was dangerous. For the Warchief to care for a human was very dangerous. By the smell in the room they had shared bed pleasures only a short time ago. He looked down at her. Orc sex was often violent and she likely had not been prepared so she had suffered the broken bones.
A child could come of this and that would simply not do. He went to the wine bottle and pulled out a bag. He crumbled some herbs into the wine glass and poured the wine in. He let it sit for a few moments before walking back to the balled up woman. Gently he lifted her head and poured the liquid down her throat. She coughed a little and some came back out, but most succeeded. The herbs would prevent Garrosh's child from taking root.
He lifted her up in his arms. Now to get her away from here before the Warchief continued this useless and dangerous infatuation. He walked quickly through the halls. He had served as Ambassador to Undercity for many years under Thrall and knew the passages well. He walked out of the sewers and still carrying her came to the abandoned house where a Death Guard was resting for the night after a long patrol. His skeletal mount was tied up outside.
Quickly the troll priest cast a light spell on the girl to keep her alive and unconscious as he tied her to the saddle. He then walked the mount to the road heading toward Silverpine forest and Gilneas. He slapped the bones of the horse's backside and it dashed off carrying its cargo.
He went back to the room and stood outside. He looked at the stones against the wall and turning rammed his head against it. He fell down unconscious knowing it would look that she escaped and injured him in the process. On the path she was on she would reach Gilneas soon enough or at least a human settlement in Silverpine that would take her to the capital of the mongrel Worgen where she would be taken back to her own people.