• Mature • Call of Destiny

15th of Saun 716

The seven Duchies of Central Rynmere and their respective baronies, cities, towns, villages, and landmarks each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families and ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.
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Elyna
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15th Sa'un 716
Time was an endless, relentless march of slow seconds. Like the ants that came in under the window, down the wall and across the room before they vanished beneath a gap in the skirting, the passage of Trials was linier, constant and boring. Rest they had said. You’re pregnant, get plenty of rest. The Doctor would have laughed to realise how diligently their words had been executed. After what she thought was twenty Trials in the sparse prison, Elyna had experience more rest then she wanted for the whole of her life. Thankfully, Marcus had then relented his dogma over her life and requested that her belongings were returned to her. The small bag of clothes, toiletries that she bought to Burhan, along with her sword. The resulting Trials had been easier, she’d concentrated on her Hawk and re-teaching him how to fly around the confined space.
The night he had strangled her, he had bought her here. Locked her in the dusty room of the second floor of the house. She thought that the bruises had faded, because she couldn’t feel them anymore. Besides, she had nothing to see them with.
The room smelt of old paper and faded flowers, a living nightmare for the woman. But with her sword return, at least the scent was overlain with oil and whetstone. The subtle hints of leather from the scabbard and her jerkin.
Bootsteps climbed the stairs and the Skyrider positioned herself, with her back to the wall, on the bed. Her possessions were neatly folded in her bag. Her sword lent against the wall beside her. Ready, as though at any moment she could set out on a journey, or an adventure. The hawk lifted his wings, shaking out his feathers from his perch at the end of the bed. The window didn’t open wide enough, for even the bird to escape. But at least, when it was open, it could coax in a small breeze from the scorching heat outside. Surely, she thought, the season had truly changed? Surely it had to be Sa’un? The only thing she knew for certain, was that her unborn child seemed to grow a little each day. The curve of her stomach was undeniable and starting to press against even her loosest shirt. She found herself talking to the child, telling it stories that she had collected from Burhan and Andaris, and remembering her journeys flying high above the clouds. It seemed like a different life. Maybe though, it was simply all in her mind, she had little else to distract her thoughts.
The lock slid back from the catch, the metal scraping on wood. Elyna had expected the usual pair of men, silent strangers, interchangeable and disposable to Veljorns cause. They always came in two’s though, one with a tray of food that he swapped for the old one, and another with a loaded crossbow, levelled directly at her. But it was one man, alone. Marcus. Elyna scrambled to her feet as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, balancing the tray of food on one hand like he’d been balancing trays his entire life. She heard the click as the lock slid back into place, trapping them together.
As though all the blood had left her body, fear left her fingertips tingling and her heart pounding against her ribs.
“What are you doing here?” It was a demand but she knew better than to reach for her sword. He’d visited her only once before, kept his distance and left again. Why was he back? What did this mean?
Last edited by Elyna on Tue Aug 09, 2016 1:05 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 615
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Elyna
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The tall man approached and set the tray down on the bed, smoothing the covers as he did. Anxious to keep her distance, Elyna circled him with her back to the wall. Watching him as though he were a wild dog and expecting teeth at any moment.
“I’d hoped,” he straightened and turned to face her, “that after so much time, you would have been pleased to see me,” he hooked his thumbs is into the top of his trousers.
Why on Idalos would I want to see you? She kept her outraged response internal and remained mute, eyes burning with barely contained anger.
Silence stretched, broken only by the creak of branches in the wind, limbs scratching the glass pane and the shuffling of the man outside her cell.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” his gaze followed her as she paced and stopped in the furthest corner. “Lady Elyna,” he took a step forward but stopped when she took a mirrored step back in retreat, disturbing the dust at her feet. Marcus sighed, “it’s Sa’un,” he explained, “we could be married tomorrow. You could return to Burhan and our baby would be safe, protected and loved. Please Elyna; he wouldn’t be a bastard.”
He had moved forward again, without noticing. The Skyrider however refused to flatten herself against the wall, or to cringe away from him. She struggled most of all not to correct him about ‘their’ baby. Confident that the only reason that either of their hearts stayed beating, was because he believed the lie she let him tell himself. That it was his child.
“Marcus,” she couldn’t stop the momentary twitch of fury in her fingers, “if you were the last man on Idalos…I’d kill you sooner than marry you,” because the words were spoken sweetly, she was able to see his expression brighten with hope before turning dark. Brows furrowed he closed the distance in a final stride, hand slamming against the wall beside her face.
“You’d risk your baby for the sake of your pride?!” He demanded, “I can protect you, Veljorn wants your head!”
“Let him have it!” The response was reckless and she regretted it instantly. Take hers, yes. But not her baby. Not the tiny innocent life that she had only just started to sense moving.
His hand curled into a fist and slammed against the wall again. The impact loud enough to hurt her ears, “you want to die?” She saw him claw back control and his voice dropped, brushing over the top of her ear.
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“No,” she agreed, reluctant. “I don’t want to die.”
“So what are your options, Skyrider?” Large hands dropped to her shoulders and skimmed down her arms, catching her hands.
Elyna tried pulling her fingers down, but he changed the grip, tightened it around her wrists and pinned them to the wall behind. Top lip pulled back in a sneer, she held back. Cycling her choices. A knee to the groin, a head-butt, a simple escape from his insistent grip. But she would bide her time.
The Sailor took her quiet as encouragement and studied her face, like a piece of art; calculating her worth.
“One, you try to escape and you’re killed in the process. The army is here, and we’re ready for war. I don’t know what your skills are, but even if you’re very very talented,” the grin had returned ot his voice. A warning, “you’re still dead the bit that you leave this room…” he inhaled the scent of rose and vanilla that still clung to her hair and clothes, even now. “Two, you wait for my Father to rescue you. He won’t.”
“He would,” she answered before she could hold her tongue. But how could he? Malcolm was on the other side of the world by now.
“You believe in him? Even now?” The man raised brows in surprise. As though her tongue suddenly burnt him, he dropped his hold and left Elyna astonished, trembling with relief as he turned away.
“He doesn’t care about you, Elyna.”
The woman opened her mouth to argue before closing it again. She wasn’t going to defend herself to Marcus. It was nothing to do with him.
He turned back, pushing fingers through dark hair in a motion so familiar that it hurt, “where is he?” he asked, voice soft and blue eyes intent on the answer.
Lips held tight together she refused an answer. Concentrating on the coarse surface of the wall and the picking of tiny splinters in the back of her shirt.
“Where is he Elyna? Because he’s not here.”
“No, he’s not,” she admitted. Mal was somewhere across the world. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he have known Vanessa was alive? How could he know anything?
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The man circled, dropping his hands to his sides and took up sentry at the door. “When I was a little boy, I fell down a well,” he nodded to the window. “It was an old one, long covered up and the house was much smaller then, only a few rooms. I was terrified. All I could see was the clouds turning grey ready to rain. And I knew I would drown. I couldn’t climb up, because it was slick with this green slime that came off. It coated my hands. My Father was away, but I could hear my Mother shouting for me, crashing through the woods. I was shouting back, but it didn’t travel far enough…”
Elyna watched, mystified but absorbed in the story. What was the point of all this? Painting Malcolm as an absent father? She didn’t care.
“The rain started. It got to my ankles and I was screaming, clawing at those bastard walls, crying. It got to my knees, then my waist and my shoulders and I was trying not to drink the water as it flooded in from all the old rivers and streams that fed it...and there he was peering down from the top. He’d ridden back for a break in the storm, my mother nearly lost Vaughn in the panic.”
“But he saved you,” Elyna couldn’t help the flush of pride.
“He knew exactly where I was,” Marcus looked up, watching the trees as they rustled in the summer breeze.
Elyna swallowed. There was a trap in his words, but where? “He heard you? Above the rain?”
“He could see me,” the man returned the brilliant gaze back to her and held her focus, pinning her with his stare. “The people he loves, he can see them. He knows if they’re in danger, he knows if their lives are at risk, how, when, where.”
She felt some of her resilience slipping. Somehow, she had known this was coming. By fire of by flood, Marcus would try to shatter her image of Malcolm and destroy the strength that she clung to. The woman stood, a little more precariously on the tower she’d climbed up in her own mind. A safe place where she guarded her heart.
“So…tell me, if he knew my Mother was alive. Why did he lie to you? Why did he pretend to marry you?”
“He didn’t know,” the response came in a breath. How could he have known? Even if what Marcus said was true.
The man pulled a slip of folded paper from his shirt pocket and tossed it toward her. It skidded across the floor and bounced against her bare feet.
Against her better judgement she bent, recognizing the paper before she even picked it up. Malcolms' note paper. She skimmed the words with disbelief, forcing herself to return to them, read them carefully and let them make sense.

Vaughn,

... On the thirtieth I will be wed to Lady Burhan, and as you know your mother's good health makes the marriage null and void, especially if she resurfaces after convincing the nation that I had something to do with her disappearance, or murder as I have been accused...

All my love,
Malcolm


Malcolm had managed to steal all of the air from her lungs and he wasn’t even on the same continent. He had known. Vanessa had been right. He’d made a fool of her. He’d lied to her and broken every promise.
You break your promises as quickly as you make them! She’d shouted it at him once and the surge of memory let panic slip beneath her defenses. The woman felt the tower she’d been building, and the walls that kept her carefully guarded, start to slip away beneath her feet. Like loose stones on poor foundations.
“You see Elyna… either he doesn’t care enough about you to know what a dangerous, dangerous position you’re in. He can’t see you…” Marcus approached again. Treading with gentle steps across the bare boards.
Numbed by shock the Skyrider didn’t move. Why was time always going too fast or too slow? Tender fingers slid down her cheek and curled beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. Her bottom lip quivered and she bit it, sinking soft teeth into the flesh.
“Or maybe he does know…he knows all about the pain you’ve suffered and still…he doesn't care enough to be here. Either way my Lady. You are betrayed, vulnerable and you are alone.”
“I’m always alone,” she whispered.
“But you don’t have to be.”





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Elyna
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“I’m not going to marry you Marcus,” she lifted dark eyes to pale, resolute. When she had first told Malcolm about the pregnancy, she had made a decision. She wouldn’t marry Marcus for convenience. She wouldn’t take his noble name but somehow, she would be fine. If the Skyrider knew anything, it was that the world didn’t stay the same. No matter how long he intended to keep her locked up in this room, her time would come and she would seize it with both hands.
A low growl of frustration came from the man and she shivered, “I don’t know why you’re denying this…” His thumb dropped to her mouth and pulled at the soft tissue of her bottom lip.
Elyna turned her head to the side and his hand slipped to her waist, “there’s nothing to deny!”
“We had a good night together,” he responded and his fingers tightened around her flesh, pulling at the fabric of her clothes.
She set her hands on his shoulders and tried pushing him away, but he refused to move, catching her hand and pushing it back. Pinning it once more to the wall but above her head.
“It was a mistake!” she insisted. The woman shut her eyes as he pressed against her. Lips edging delicately over her jaw and she pushed back again, trying to step forward or lift a knee but he pinned her completely.
“No,” the Sailor shook his head, stubble rough against the skin of his neck as his fingers tightened around her wrist. Hard enough to send shooting pains down her arm as he bent it, “no, you want this. You’re trembling Elyna, you want me…please don’t fight this. We’ll be a family together.”
She placed her foot flat against the wall and kicked off, shoving into him and knocking the man off balance. Darting forward, the pain that split through her arm made her shout. He still held her wrist, despite his stumble. He manoeuvred it, above her shoulder so that she dropped to her knees in the dust.
It was a simple hold, her hand bent backwards on the joint and pinioned over the shoulder joint she was caught. Unless she wanted to dislocate her shoulder, there was little she could do. Her attempts to stand again bought fresh tears of pain. The sparks dancing down her spine and neck as he held her.
His arm closed around her throat once more, and confident that he held her securely, Marcus released her hand and dragged her back to her feet.
“Please stop fighting,” teeth grazed the top of her ear in a lovers caress as his free hand sought to bunch her skirts around her hips, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then stop! Stop Marcus…” Nails sank back into his skin and she tried kicking away once more. Feet scrabbling for a hold as he pushed her onto the bed. Choking on the covers she kicked back again and her foot landed in a delicate region.
It was with a howl of pain that she was suddenly free. Pushing her skirts back down and spinning, lurching to her feet. He recovered in time to catch her hand as it closed around the hilt of her sword.
Elyna set her balance and punched at him. The thud was dull, sickening, and blood appeared above his eye, but his grip on her hand remained. Cruel, he twisted her thumb back again and the blade dropped, useless once more.
“Kellen!” He shouted for the door and turned back to her. Face red with fury, the marks of their previous encounter showed up in red lines down his cheek. Still healing.
Locks slid back once more and another man rushed in. He had a messy main of blonde hair, broad shoulders and the look of someone, who wasn’t entirely sure if it was day or night.
“Hold her,” Marcus ordered.
Elyna bent double, then tried jumping instead. Fear made her palms sweat and she twisted, trying to weave through the reaching hands, but she was inevitably trapped as a third solider ran into the room. Pinned to the bed, she kicked Marcus again as skirts were forced up once more.
“You forced my hand Elyna,” he spoke quietly. He pinned her leg straight and she screamed as the knife dipped against the skin of her outer thigh.
The woman couldn’t be sure how long it took him to carve his mark into her flesh, but by the time he’d finished, the soldiers were no longer needed. Throat hoarse she stared at him and hated him. Tears and sweat marked the pillows and a slow drip of blood slid down the knife. She wondered if he used it on the boats, for gutting fish.
“Marry me or not, you are mine. A wedding or a brand, Elyna. It was your decision. Make a better choice next time, my Lady,” dispassionate he wandered the room, pulled out a scrap of fabric from her bag and threw it at her.
“Clean it up,” he ordered and turned to leave, “you don’t want to catch an infection.”
She hardly dared to breathe as the door shut behind him, and the locks slid shut once more.
Finally, tentative and sore the woman sat up, and examined the mark he’d left. Similar to the symbol of Burhan, it was a nearly complete circle with a serpent beneath. A dragon.
Suddenly, she didn’t know if the lock was to keep her in, or keep them out. She’d kill them all. Every single Qe'Dreki if she had to. Determined and vengeful, she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped as she collected water on the cloth and started to bathe the wound. Fighting wounds were different, they came with adrenaline to ease the sting. This had been deliberate, cruel and the pain was white hot.
There would be justice; and it would burn them.
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Name: Elyna

Knowledge:
Basic Knowledge:
Rynmere Civil War 716: Krome is allied with Burhan
Qe’Dreki: The Qe’Dreki Symbol
Qe’Dreki: Mortal Enemies

Specialized Knowledge:
Veljorn Burhan: Wants you dead
Malcolm: Knows when the people he loves are in danger
Malcolm: Knew Vanessa Krome was alive
Malcolm: Knew your marriage was void and null
Marcus Krome: Wants to marry you
Marcus Krome: Believes your unborn child is his

Loot:
+1 letter from Malcolm to Vaughn

Injuries:
Congratulations! You've received:
  • Bruises around your neck that last for 7-10 trials
  • Bruises around your wrists that last for 7-10 trials
  • A lasting scar in your outer thigh that takes the shape of the Qe’Dreki symbol
Fame: N/A

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 0/5
Structure: 5/5

Comments: Ohmygosh, this thread! This was so beautifully written, and jam-packed with action, drama, and intrigue. I particularly loved your opening sentences, as well as Elyna's reactions to Marcus, Malcolm's betrayal, and the scar. I was on the edge of my seat reading through this! Very, very well done. If I could offer one piece of feedback, it would be a tiny Idalosian reminder: I believe the spelling is Saun, rather than Sa’un. Otherwise, great thread! I can't wait to see how Elyna escapes and all that happens with her inevitable revenge plot.
word count: 227
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