Grace of Fire and Fangs

chapter 3 - fear

"Pray tell, young warrior, what can you see in my eyes?" Vargo cooed, the shadow of flames swirling madly across his pale skin. He leaned in closer, cocking his head to the side before running his tongue over his bottom lip. Aralyn shuttered. 

"Of all the filthy creatures I've been forced to endure..." She was abruptly cut off.

"Filthy! Tsk, Tsk, I am but a lonely sell sword, taking what is mine" Vargo dragged himself around the edge of the fire, edging closer to her. Aralyn's lip curling back into a snarl. 

"A prize of sorts, perhaps?" He reached out for her, dragging his long, cold fingers across my cheekbone. She swatted him away. 

The edge of Vargo's mouth curved into a crooked smirk, "Do not act cold; I can see the lust in your eyes... Hot, burning desire for my-" He was cackling as Aralyn attempted to scoot away from him, but abruptly cut off when another hand pressed down possessively on Aralyn's shoulder.

Aralyn's body reacted like a puppet with its strings being cut, and she melted back into Bolton's steady hold.

"Foolish games are for foolish men, Hoat" Bolton snarled. "Aralyn was sent to bring you whiskey and instructions, not to be your whore. She is property of House Bolton, your employer. My property." Roose patted Aralyn on the back, urging her to stand. And Aralyn did. She stood quickly,  dusting off her leggings and kicking dirt into the fire. 

Vargo smiled up at them. 

"We are all such fools, Lord Bolton. And the only reason a fool like you can take a girl like that from a fool like me, is certainly not because you have a larger cock, but a fatter pocket... Isn't that right, Aralyn Snow?" Vargo bared his teeth. It was meant to be a smile, a corrupt, ugly smile. Instead, it was more of a snarl. 

Bolton's hand traveled down between Aralyn's shoulder blades, and settled onto her lower back. His other hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "If you were not so useful to me alive, I would hang you over the bear bit by your feet and let the beast tear the head from the neck."

Hoat's expression did not change and with humor he said "She's a little young for us both, wouldn't you say, Lord Bolton? A suitable fit for that charming bastard boy of yours, though. I'm sure he would threat her for what she's worth..."

Aralyn lurched forward suddenly, fingers curling around her dagger. "You have no--!" She was too unsteady for an outburst, and was quickly cut off when Bolton yanked her backwards.

"Do not bother with him." Bolton hissed in her ear. He turned them back towards their quarters, and moved Aralyn towards the entrance. Vargo's ominous cackling rung in her ears.

"If you so wish," Bolton began in a careful, quiet voice, "I can see fit that you have charming company tonight. You deserve it." He offered. Aralyn bit her lip, eyes widening at his proposal.

 Bolton had never offered her such things before. Was he only trying to make up for giving her the revolting assignment of riding with the Brave Companions at dawn? Aralyn sighed, kicking stones as she trailed alongside him. 

"There will be no need. I'm not in the mood" Her voice was a whisper. 

Bolton did not flinch. He nodded once and strode into the darkly lit corridor. Aralyn followed quietly, wondering whether he was returning to his chamber or to the grand meeting room to wait out another sleepless night. For awhile, Aralyn had doubted Bolton ever slept. His eyes were always hanging dumbly above blackened circles and in the night, she could always hear his footsteps echoing through the halls of Dreadfort. Her breathing hitched, and she found myself drawing back into the shadows of the dim corridor.