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Chapter 3: My New 'Friend'

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Zoe was beginning to appreciate her tormentor's silence.

Being bound to the pal sphere, she knew that any word or command he gave her would be law, her body and mind unable to resist indulging in whatever sick and disturbed thought her 'master' desired of her. Willing or not.

So for him to refrain from saying anything at all…\well, it at least made her feel like she had some semblance of freedom, twisted mockery that it was. She almost wished he would speak instead of dangling her free will in front of her like some sort of trophy. Or so she thought he must see it.

Truth be told, the Castaway's actions brought more questions than answers to any kind of motivation. Calling him kind would be laughable, considering her new position, but given the circumstances, she supposes he had been courteous enough. Downright nice even. Strange as that is to say.

He would always gesture at her to build this or point her in the direction to do that. His wordless intentions were usually clear to her, but interpretive gestures didn't hold the absolute authority of direct verbal commands. She could probably decline these requests if she felt like it.

But she didn't feel like it. It terrified her. Was it some game to see how much control he could exert over her without the help of mental domination? Was it a test? To see how far she would obey his will unenforced? Would he shatter her illusion of choice by snuffing out any resistance she showed, to make an example of her? She couldn't even begin to guess.

So she played along, having the willing servile attitude she thought he wanted of her. The Castaway seemed pleased with her performance at least. She hoped that was enough. He hadn't made her craft any pal spheres thankfully, she didn't think she could stomach the thought now. Still, she certainly crafted more wool cloths and medicine in the past few days than she ever had since she was still a child.

Zoe wasn't sure what his aim was, because frankly, this was one of the most ass-backwards forms of vengeance she could think of. Install his dominion over her only to not use it, like she was stuck in some kind of hobo purgatory.

The only solace was that she still had Grizzbolt, in a way. That man captured her as well, practically flaunting it like a proud kid who found a shiny shell at the beach.

For whatever reason, the Castaway had the heart to spare her precious friend. Probably, Zoe thought bitterly, to make her more subservient and shackled to him. She would be less inclined to disobey if he could take out her punishments on Grizzbolt instead. She would never put her pal in the line of fire meant for her like that.

The thought of it made her uncomfortable. If he knew all this then the Castaway was far more clever (and insidious!) than she initially gave him credit for. Which, despite reinforcing her idea of him as some kind of demon, still didn't explain his behavior.

Like how, right now, he was attempting to teach her how to properly plant crops.

Berries seemed to be his preferred food resource (and hers now it seemed), as the Castaway abstained from hunting any pals for the most part. A far cry from the fanciful meals her previous revenue could provide. Given his pelt armor and lean build, she suspected this was more due to her presence than any preference on his part.

What she wouldn't do for a cake right about now…

"Ah..!" Zoe hissed, recoiling her hand slightly as she was cut by a particularly sharp pebble. The Castaway gave her a wry look, no doubt finding her inexperience humorous.

'Well, it's not my fault I never had to work with plants before!'

She glowered at him briefly before resuming her task, finally reaching an appropriate soil depth. She carefully arranged the seeds in the hole, a proper distance from each other. With a cupped hand, she rolled the moist dirt into the now-filled hole and, leaving little evidence there was a hole to begin with. The Castaway nodded in approval, before taking out a watering can and drizzling it onto the newly cultivated section.

She signed and straightened up from her hunched-forward position, pushing out her chest and rolling back her shoulders to relieve the stress on her spine before placing her hands on her hips, and smiling proudly at her work.

Zoe was quite confident in her abilities with general handiwork and some more advanced crafting, but when it came to anything else her knowledge was sadly lacking. Not that she ever noticed or cared before, never needing anything else.

"So how was that, perfect right? You should be impressed!" She turned her head to the Castaway in a sarcastic manner. How she still managed to hold on to some of her snark this far escaped her, but she didn't feel inclined to present herself as quiet and submissive just yet. The electrical spark in her soul was still defiant, despite what her captor might think.

The Castaway shot her a brief glance, sly grin still present, before his eyes traced down her body to her hands. She followed his gaze and noticed some cuts and blood speckles among the dirt and debris. A steady red line traced the finger on one hand. Now that she noticed it, her digit began to throb. Great.

"I have soft hands," she defended, frowning at her own minor injuries. She grimaced at their filthy state. The Castaway huffed out a laugh or a sigh, she couldn't tell, and turned to a nearby chest, rummaging through its contents until he withdrew a bowl of low-grade medicine. The irony that she made it was not lost on her.

Reaching for her hands, he cleaned them off with water from the can to rinse the grime off before applying the gel-like medicine with a delicate, feather-light touch that tickled her nerves. The broken skin and cuts sealed up quickly. Zoe didn't fall for the seemingly genuine act of kindness, she knew what this was. She couldn't perform her tasks effectively if she was hurt. This was just maintenance on his tools for him, she was sure.

"Thanks…" she muttered dryly. The Castaway waved off her sarcastic gratitude, indulgent self-absorbed demon of a man he was. She rubbed her now-healed hands together. The daylight hours were beginning to wane but it wasn't quite night yet, which meant there was still more work to do. Man, she was not built for this kind of thing.

True, he had spared her any heavy lifting, leaving her only the task that could be accomplished from a relatively stationary position or with little walking. Probably because he didn't need Zoe's help with those kinds of things, considering she saw him exit the forest with what had to be at least half a ton or more of wood on one shoulder, and a similar weight in stones on his other. Her jaw would have dropped as she spluttered inconceivably if she hadn't already seen him perform superhuman acts in their battle.

She realized her first day with her new master that their whole fight was a farce, he only let the fight drag on as long as it did to give the illusion it was a battle. They never stood a chance in hell.

Had he come from the north? Folks were tougher up there, she had to send her best elite hunters to contend with them, while most of the average Johns and Joes managed the local population.

Which was in complete contrast to his apparent standard of living. With power like that, she expected him to be some 'Lord of the Castle' type who dressed himself up and pretended to be an average forest-dwelling peasant. But, having experienced life with him for some time now, she could confidently say there was no castle.

There wasn't even a house!

It was a foundation of wood with some pal beds and a primitive crafting bench. There wasn't even a bed to sleep in. Did he even sleep? Zoe doesn't recall him ever resting at night. He seemed confused by her appalled expression, not seeming to understand her indignation. Did he expect her to sleep in the dirt? He seemed to realize the problem, but of course his way of fixing it meant another learning experience for her. She had a bed now and a roof over her head at least. Perhaps in solidarity, the Castaway constructed a hammock in the nearby trees, though they never seemed to use it for more than a few moments at a time.

It helped that the chosen local was nice enough. Beautiful, she might even say if pressed. Just under the Plateau of Beginnings in a small clearing beside a small waterfall and pond, she could say it wasn't the worst place to build a home. In another life, she thinks she would have chosen something similar. She could imagine herself and Grizzbolt, young and free, snickering over a campfire with an abundance of food around them and a homely wood hut behind them, big enough for even Grizzbolt.

She wished she had acquired these skills earlier. So much could have changed.

Zoe noticed she was spacing out because the Castaway was staring at her with a knowing expression. She huffed, turning away and heading towards the half-constructed furnace. She was by the sound of his clap, which she knew meant he wanted her attention. She turned to him again, annoyance clear on her face, noticing he was gesturing for her to follow him. She sighed, moving alongside him as he guided her to the edge of the pond.

She noticed he was leading them to a set of two small chairs and a campfire. When saw him build that earlier, and with no other human present, she could guess who the second seat was for. So he finally decided to talk to her. She steeled her nerves and took a deep breath. She wasn't going to show weakness.

With a finesse she expected of him, the Castaway seated himself gracefully. He patted the seat next to him, a clear invitation. Zoe seated herself cautiously, trying to hold down her resolve enough to not start shaking in anxiety. She waited for him to speak.

The Castaway's eyes were focused on the water in front of them, observing the natural beauty of their homestead. The shadows cast by the fire emphasized the contours of his figure, and Zoe had to admit there was a certain allure to the weightlessness he held himself up with, like he was undaunted no matter what the world threw at him. She could admire and loathe that strength in equal measure. He didn't seem interested in rushing things, letting the minutes pass by. She grew uncomfortable with the deafening silence.

Finally, the quiet got to her-

"What do you want," she managed. The words seem to stick to her tongue, her throat dryer than it should be. The Castaway didn't immediately respond, but when he turned to look at her she saw the same burning in his eyes as when they met before his expression changed to something more inquisitive.

He crossed his arms and stared at her expectantly, tilting his head slightly. Oh, so he wants HER to do the talking. The thought sounded unpleasant. But she supposed he would just keep her here until she did what he wanted.

"Well? Don't be shy, what is it? Do you want me to explain my motives? What drives the fallen leader of the scary Rayne Syndicate?" Zoe drawled, "There's money to be made there, pals are worth a lot of gold these days to prospective clients."

He simply stared at her with that same knowing expression. Annoying. She grit her teeth.

"Not good enough? How about how my father was the one who created the syndicate in the first place," she leaned forward slightly, "And how it was my choice to continue his duty and protect the Tower!"

The Castaway didn't seem surprised, like he knew this already. He probably did, it wouldn't be hard to guess considering the syndicate was named after them. She pressed on-

"How about how I took the reins from him after he retired, and followed in his footsteps to lead our family's legacy to greatness!" her chest roiled uncomfortably at that but she suppressed it, "I took the mantle from him proudly and–"

"You were abandoned."

Zoe felt like she took a sucker punch to the gut, the words obliterating the false narrative she was spinning. Those are the first words she hears him speak and it cuts sharper than any weapon. The Castaway didn't seem perturbed, resting his knuckles on the side of his head in a relaxed but serious manner, eyes boring into her. She desperately tried to shove out the knowledge those words forced her to remember. Words she already knew were true before he spoke them.

"You don't know that…" she tried to shout, but the words came out in a hushed breath. She berated herself. "You don't know me," she stated more firmly. The statement somehow felt hollow. The man was unmoved.

So he was going to break her psychologically, was that it? She wouldn't let him.

Of course, the measly resolve she managed to salvage was instantly torn asunder when the demon in front of her pulled out the stone tablet all castaways seemed to wash ashore with and turned it to face her. On its simplistic display, it showed the entry of some kind of journal. She leaned forward to read it better before reeling back abruptly.

It was HER journal.

Her flesh turned ice cold as the blood drained from her skin, leaving her pale and shaky. That was PRIVATE! How did he get that?

"I…that… it's…" she spluttered incoherently, unable to form words past the emotions seeing the journal entry again dredged out. The castaway waited patiently for her, not bothering to push past her devastated mental defenses.

This was nerve-wracking, mind-numbing, downright embarrassing, and above all else a traumatic revelation of just how vulnerable and at his mercy she was. She knew what weakness meant. She knew HE knew what weakness meant. How couldn't he? It's right there in the journal. SHE wrote those words.

The Castaway set the tablet down between them, accusation clear on his face. He could see through her lies like they were made of glass.

She took a breath and let out a deep exhale, her body going limp in the chair. She didn't know what she wanted from her. Her resistance deflated, just like it had before in the Tower. Zoe supposed she made a pathetic sight, not that it mattered anymore. The man had every card in the deck stacked against her.

"I never knew either of my parents," She spoke truthfully for once, though they both already knew this. "For the longest time, it was just me. Me and Grizzbolt," she paused, delaying her next statement, "There's nobody else in the world that matters," she paused again, "I did what I had to, I wanted to survive."

A weak argument she knew, but an honest one. She never thought beyond surviving. As the daughter of their former boss, they at least respected her heritage. As the leader of the syndicate, the thugs now respected her strength. But neither would matter to the person in front of her, so she had little to lose by divulging these thoughts. The Castaway shifted in his seat, leaning closer to her.

"You didn't have to save Grizzbolt."

Zoe felt an involuntary shiver wrack through her. It didn't escape her that the only words he spoke to her were statements of fact, meaning the only thing the pal sphere's influence did was force her to recall and acknowledge the memories. She was suddenly very grateful for how seldom he spoke.

"How could I, when she looked so lonely," She responded. That reason was written in her journal too. Although the more she thought about it the more conflicting her ideas became. She wanted to survive, so she risked the safety and food the syndicate provided her as a child because she thought a pal looked lonely? That sounded stupid even to her.

"She was like me. She didn't have anyone who cared about her. She didn't matter…" Zoe continued, before a realization occurred to her. "That's why she allowed them to catch her. She had no reason to put up a fight. But she fought for me," the realization caused a warm, blossoming feeling to erupt in her chest. She didn't understand.

"Why?" Zoe looked with pleading eyes at the Castaway, who looked at her with that same pitiful expression as he had before, as she lay defeated on the stone-cold floor. Anger lanced up her mind, mixing the confusion and uncertainty. "Why would anyone do that for someone else? What's the benefit? All it does is hurt each other!"

He didn't answer. Of course, she would be forced to accept any verbal answer he gave as the right one. But she was desperate for some semblance of truth, even if it was the wrong one. But he didn't seem keen on answering her. Reflecting on the recurrent situation, she thought maybe he didn't know either.

Abruptly, the Castaway stood, before making his way behind her chair and placing his hands on her shoulder. The gentle but firm grasp was almost comforting. She tensed up in anticipation and shock. This had never happened before.

"Perhaps we could figure that out together…"

The Castaway sounded almost wistful. The soft-spoken words resonated within her.

Together…

Of course, after a few moments had passed, a new thought occurred to her. One so absurd that she almost dismissed it outright as fantasy. But the more she thought about it the more all the puzzle pieces seemed to connect. This man…

"Hold on!" She too stood abruptly, shaking off his grasp to turn around. "Are you doing all of this…to befriend me?" she accused. Teaching her how to cultivate, crafting her a proper place to rest, making her spare clothes while he repaired her usual outfit, all of it pointed to the same thing. This man was an idiot. She felt like an idiot too.

He wasn't testing her or toying with her. He was having them do activities together like some kind of fun adventure. It's like he was taking pages out of some children's guide, 'How to Make Friends, for Dummies.'

She could hardly believe it. The Castaway looked at her with an owlish expression, like he wasn't sure exactly how to respond. The revelation caused Zoe to do something she didn't even know she could do.

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"!"

She had punched him. Right in his jaw. He didn't seem to expect the blow, because it sent him tripping backwards into the pond, crashing with a loud SPLOOSH. Zoe stood still for a few moments, her mind catching up to her body as she practically jumped out of her skin.

"Oh No! Please! ImSoSorryIdidntMeanToDoThat!" she rushed out, almost forgetting the man was more than capable of tearing her apart if he felt like it. She hadn't even considered that she could be wrong and that his clueless expression was because he had no idea what the Fuck Zoe was going on about.

Oh God, she was in so much trouble.

She was immediately relieved that he didn't immediately annihilate her when he surfaced. A stunned look on his face. A look that lasted all of two seconds.

If she thought he was amused before, then the expression on his face now was downright giddy. The way he gracefully flipped himself back onto the dirt ledge with fiercely competitive eyes, she had a feeling she knew what was coming.

"Hey! Don't touch me! I'm not-!" her complaint must have fallen on deaf ears, because within a second he had wrapped his arm around her waist, effortlessly hoisted her up to shoulder level, and practically lobbed her at the pond while she screamed.

Well, at least she knew how to swim.

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Btw that spear attack before was inspired by Orzerk's special move.
Check it out if you haven't seen it. It's Badass.

And I'm sure you know whose spear the Castaway was using.

Things are going to get a little more intimate in the next chapter, as was always my intention with the story, so for those of you waiting for that it's coming. I've seen the other fanfics, especially on ao3.

Believe me, it's what the people want.

But I prefer the contextual background of volun-forced companionship to flat-out rape domination. So we have to wait as I craft an appropriate backdrop. Sorry.

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