The journey did not last but a few hours and then she began to smell the sea air; her wrists were sore and cut from being pulled behind the rider who was half dragging her behind him. The leader of this group was the one she had cut, the one she had come so close to driving her father’s sword through and finding some peace for herself and her fallen family. She began to sob as she thought about her father’s fallen body lying there, sword in hand, lifeless; she could feel eyes upon her and she looked up to see the fiend who had captured her, his piercing cruel eyes staring at her, the rest of his face obscured by the helm he wore. She resisted his gaze and broke eye contact in an attempt at defiance, which caused a short laugh from him and the quickening of the group’s pace. When they finally came to a halt, she heard him bark several quick orders and several of the group moved away towards the sea. With almost effortless grace he dismounted his horse and moved towards her, reaching into a pouch at his side. She felt the rope holding her go slack and fall to the ground; the pain in her wrists still burned from the journey, but she did not wish to show this man any satisfaction for what he had caused. He reached her and his gloved hands touched against her hands and he moved his fingers across them gently. “I trust you did not find the journey too tiring.” His voice did not contain any mocking and had an almost caring quality to it. Her mind raced against this, she could not understand what trickery was this. She silenced her thoughts and looked at his face. “No Sir, it was not tiring,” she said, her muscles tensing as she felt his fingers tracing the bleeding flesh on her wrists from where the ropes had cut. A hint of menace crept into his voice as he spoke next, his eyes locking with her and the blue seemed to be almost hypnotic to her locked gaze. “Do you understand what I meant when I told you that you were mine?” She shivered, this man towered over her and his voice boomed at her. She tried to turn her head and his hand shot to her throat and held her in place; she could feel his hand close around her throat, it suddenly becoming more difficult for her to breathe. Her hands moved to his hands and she grabbed at them but found she was unable to move them away. His eyes stared intently at hers as her own eyes began to fill with terror and he spoke again. “Do you understand what I meant when I told you that you were mine?” His voice seemed so strong and his eyes were drawing her to him. She began to gasp against his grip on her throat and she tried to form the words. “Yes,” she hissed out between her choking gasps and she suddenly began to draw breath as he loosened his grip on her now swollen and bruised neck and throat. Finally his hands released her and she fell to the floor and began to cry hysterically, the tears flowing down her face, shaking violently as she kneeled before him, her head hung in shame and fear. She felt something fall in front of her and looking down she could see the pouch he had been wearing at his side. “Open it,” he said, his voice low and even. She looked up at him, afraid of what might happen. She could see he was no longer wearing the helm that had once covered his face and before her was a handsome man, with short dark hair and those blue eyes she had only seen through the slits in his helm. He smiled warmly at her and knelt down before her. “Open the pouch,” he said softly and took her hands and moved them to the opening on the pouch. She stiffened against his touch, the pain in her throat and wrists causing her to wince at the movement. The hands slowly worked the strap of the pouch open and she opened it gently, several sweet berries rolled out onto the edge of the canvas bag and lay before her. “Now eat.” He stood again and moved back to his horse and began checking the saddle. Her stomach rebelled against the idea of eating after all that had happened, but how could she refuse this man Slowly her hands moved to the pouch and she took a handful of berries and lifted them into her mouth; they tasted sweet and the juice made her throat feel less sore. She quickly moved her hand back into pouch and greedily took another handful and put them into her mouth. She came to her senses as she heard a rider approaching her. Looking up she saw her captor had put his helm back on and now sat atop his war horse looking down at her. “We are leaving now, come on.” He reached down with his arm, extending it out to her, she quickly closed the pouch and lifted it to hand it to his outstretched hand. Slowly he shook his head no and looked to her other hand, gesturing for her to take it. Reaching out slowly she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet and up onto his horse. She sat in front of him, feeling the cold touch of his helm against the back of her skin and felt the reins of the horse touch her arms as he held them in place. With a slight movement the horse was urged into a walk and their journey began once more. The smell of the sea air became stronger and she could tell they were near the beach now, so close to her village. She shuddered softly, trying to suppress the image of her home now gone forever. She pulled forward so he would not feel her shiver. She had played on these beaches when she was younger with her sisters and now suddenly she could not control herself anymore. The tears began to flow and she shuddered violently, leaning back into him, not caring for what he would do to her now she could feel him press against her back slightly. Even though she despised this monster she could not help but to feel some comfort, even if it was nothing more than another human’s need for contact when they were at their lowest. She raised her head to see the beach and out in the distance was a large ship bobbing on the waters. On the beach she could see several of his warriors preparing row boats to go to sea and the darkness of the night crushed her hope.
