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tamingthemuseTitle: Circle
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Soporific
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ingwen is the evil warlord in all those horror stories, but perhaps he never wanted to be.
They were only minutes away from the village, but Ingwen didn’t want to risk causing her even more harm by moving her by horse. He ordered most of the soldiers home, as that was their destination originally, but some he ordered to retrieve a doctor and help.
Ingwen sat with her, her head pillowed on his knee. She was as still as death, her breathing slow. His hands were shaking more now than they had on the eve of his first battle. He slowly carded them through her messy hair, wondering how this had possibly happened to her. Who could have ordered this done?
A shudder went through his body as he realized that it didn’t matter who had ordered it, he, Ingwen, would be saddled with the blame.
He could never- He would never have done something like this. Those that were put to the stake were warriors that had meant harm to his people, men that knew what they were doing when they attacked and killed innocent people. Never a child so thin and frail as this girl appeared.
There were purple bruises under her eyes, and her skin was frighteningly pale. He couldn’t force his eyes back to her legs were the blood was still ruddy red.
The doctor arrived and paused as the knight who brought him let him down from the panting horse. His face was pale as well, and he clutched his bag tightly in his hands. Ingwen looked up at him, his dark eyes red rimmed and aching. “Help her,” he ordered, his voice firm and unwavering.
Instantly, the man was a flurry of movement, kneeling beside his overlord and busying his hands with the girl’s unresisting limbs. Once the man was tending to her, Ingwen turned back to her face, unable to bare the sight of her battered body.
He continued to stroke her face in his lap. Under her thin lids, her eyes moved restlessly, and when the doctor touched an open wound, she flinched and moaned pitifully.
His hands were still shaking.
He looked up to find two of his knights still hovering anxiously over them. Lance, his first knight and closest ally was of course still there, his hand fisted on the pommel of his sword. His knuckles were white with the effort. Morilu, his father’s own knight also stood there, his arms folded over his massive chest, a deep frown on his bear-like face as he stared down at them.
He had to swallow twice before he could speak again. “Find out who did this. I want them brought before me.”
Both knights bowed, but before they could rise, the doctor spoke. “You won’t have to look far.” He looked up from his inspection of the girl and added a belated, “Sire.”
“What do you mean?”
The old man wiped his blood smeared hands on his tunic. “It was Marshal Vabar.”
The name sent a shiver down his spin, but Ingwen couldn’t say why. He didn’t know the name, although it did seem familiar. He frowned as he thought that perhaps there was something he was supposed to remember. He shook his head, dismissing the thought for later.
“Who is Marshal Vabar?”
The doctor frowned back at him. “He is your seneschal, is he not? He lives in your castle and orders us about with the king’s command to back him.”
Ingwen’s blood boiled and he felt Lance’s hand settle on his shoulder. Ingwen took a deep breath, careful not to let his hands clench into fists while he still had them in her hair. He heard a low, deep growl and thought for a moment it had been from him, but, upon opening his eyes, he saw that Morilu’s hand had dropped to the sword at his hip and his teeth were bared behind his beard. Ingwen nodded his head to Lance, signaling that he was calm, then turned back to the doctor who was once more seeing to the girl’s wounds.
“How long has he been here?”
The man shrugged, “How long have you been gone, this last time? Two years? He arrived with a garrison of men just after you left.” The doctor’s dark eyes turned up and caught Ingwen in their strange, glittering glare. “He’s right evil and we’re grateful to have you back.”
“Has he killed many innocents?” Lance asked, and this time Ingwen was sure it was him that growled.
“She’s not dead. She may even live, gods willing. She wasn’t up there long, and those that carried out his orders did their best to help her. We all did.” He sat back and placed his hands on his knees. “Vabar has put many to the sword, and quite a few to the stake. We learned long ago not to disobey his orders and laws.” His eyes flicked between Ingwen and the girl in his arms. “I’m glad to know that they were not your orders. We would be finished had they been.”
Ingwen made a face, then turned back to the girl. “My own people will fear me now,” he said. He felt perhaps that his heart was breaking. For himself and for this girl. “What was her crime?”
“Saying no.”
“Explain.”
“Vabar wanted her,” the doctor said with a shrug. “She said no. She has always been a stubborn girl. Said that there would be magic in her future. Refused every marriage offer, and refused to come when Vabar summoned her to his chambers.”
“He had her staked for this?” Lance shouted when Ingwen could only stare at her still face.
“Perhaps more. Who knows what goes on behind the closed doors of Castle Shilor?”
Ingwen went very still, and Lance snarled, “I’ll kill him.”
Down the road, Ingwen caught sight of some soldiers returning, a litter carried on the back of a horse. “Can we move her?”
The doctor snapped back to his patient and nodded. “It should be alright. We must be careful, though. Her wounds are fresh and she’s lost so much blood already. I’ll walk with the litter.”
Ingwen lifted her carefully as the men stretched out the litter. He laid her carefully on the thick fabric, her hair tangling over his arm. He hesitated a moment before pulling away to drink in her face.
She was beautiful, he thought, under all the grime and blood. She had a round face, full lips that were nearly blue, and fine cheekbones. He didn’t remember her from before, but then, she couldn’t have been more than a babe when he left for the wars. He carefully removed his arm from behind her head and touched his thumb to her cheek. It was cold.
He signaled the knights to move and their small band continued on their way up the road to the castle perched on the mountainside.
His father had had the castle built before he had been born. He had used much magic to complete it in time for his birth, and just starting up at the structure, it was obvious. The stones were pure white, almost glowing in the bright light of the day. The tiles of the roof were a bright red, and trees grew up around the castle, hiding the base from sight from the road. Vibrant red banners flew in the wind at the top of each tower, and others hung draped out of the thin slits that served as windows.
Once they got closer, he could see the fine mist that had settled over the ground near the castle, the final remains of his father’s magic. The white fog swirled around their ankles as they marched up to the front gates. They had already been opened and waiting for them. Ingwen’s men were still crowding the courtyard, and there were numerous men he didn’t know lined up. He urged his horse apart from the men and narrowed his eyes at the tall, thin man that parted himself from the strangers.
“My lord Shilor, welcome home.”
“Who are you?”
He bowed his head. “My name is Vabar. King Betun sent me here to help you rule your lands while you were away.”
Ingwen moved his horse closer the man, hovering over him. “Who asked him? I do not need your type of help.” Just then the men pulled the girl close enough that several servants came running to help.
Vabar raised one brow at the sight. “You’ve brought this rubbish back?”
Ingwen clenched his jaw. “Go back to Betun and tell him I have returned home, thus we don’t need you here anymore.”
Lance brushed his shoulder against Ingwen’s leg. He knew the man wanted blood, heck, he wanted the man’s blood, but there were politics involved here. He had to step carefully.
Vabar bowed once again. “We shall speak over diner perhaps? I’ve had the kitchens prepare a meal for you and your knights.”
Ingwen looked to his soldiers still awaiting his orders. “They’ve prepared food for you.”
“Your Grace, for the knights, sure, not for the common soldier. Surely you don’t let them eat at your table as well?”
Ingwen looked back down at Vabar with repulsion. “They gave just as much as my knights in serving me. I will not treat them with anything less than the honor they deserve.” He turned his horse away and headed toward the great stairs. He dismounted and looked over his shoulder. Morilu was at his side.
“What happened to Lance?”
“He went with Lad- the girl to see to her comfort. The men will take care of themselves if you want to see here too.”
Ingwen nodded and quickly marched up the stairs and into the castle. The servants inside all froze upon seeing his arrival, fear and awe filling their faces at the sight of him. He chose to ignore it for the moment.
He was used to those kinds of looks.
Before the fire in the great hall the knights had laid the girl’s litter and she and Lance were sitting there, glowing in the fire’s light. He joined them. Lance looked up and jerked his hand away from her hair.
“She seems to be sleeping well enough. The doctor went to prepare some sort of soporific medicine for her incase the pain becomes too much and wakes.”
“Do you know her?”
Lance shook his head. “Never seen her before. The servants know her.” He waved over a maid and the old woman came closer to kneel beside the litter. “Tell him.”
“Sire, she’s the daughter of the millwright. The late millwright. Marshal Vabar had her family put to the sword in an effort to subdue her.”
Lance shivered with repressed anger and looked up at his lord. “Why can’t we put him to the sword?”
“Because the king sponsored him and nothing good can come of killing him.”
“Nothing good can come of letting him live.”
Privately, Ingwen agreed with him. “What’s her name?” he asked, instead of answering.
“Sarori.”
The two men stared down at the unconscious girl as the maid watched. She looked between the two of them before standing and walking away. Somehow, she felt that there was going to be more drama in the castle whether Vabar stayed or if he went.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Soporific
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ingwen is the evil warlord in all those horror stories, but perhaps he never wanted to be.
They were only minutes away from the village, but Ingwen didn’t want to risk causing her even more harm by moving her by horse. He ordered most of the soldiers home, as that was their destination originally, but some he ordered to retrieve a doctor and help.
Ingwen sat with her, her head pillowed on his knee. She was as still as death, her breathing slow. His hands were shaking more now than they had on the eve of his first battle. He slowly carded them through her messy hair, wondering how this had possibly happened to her. Who could have ordered this done?
A shudder went through his body as he realized that it didn’t matter who had ordered it, he, Ingwen, would be saddled with the blame.
He could never- He would never have done something like this. Those that were put to the stake were warriors that had meant harm to his people, men that knew what they were doing when they attacked and killed innocent people. Never a child so thin and frail as this girl appeared.
There were purple bruises under her eyes, and her skin was frighteningly pale. He couldn’t force his eyes back to her legs were the blood was still ruddy red.
The doctor arrived and paused as the knight who brought him let him down from the panting horse. His face was pale as well, and he clutched his bag tightly in his hands. Ingwen looked up at him, his dark eyes red rimmed and aching. “Help her,” he ordered, his voice firm and unwavering.
Instantly, the man was a flurry of movement, kneeling beside his overlord and busying his hands with the girl’s unresisting limbs. Once the man was tending to her, Ingwen turned back to her face, unable to bare the sight of her battered body.
He continued to stroke her face in his lap. Under her thin lids, her eyes moved restlessly, and when the doctor touched an open wound, she flinched and moaned pitifully.
His hands were still shaking.
He looked up to find two of his knights still hovering anxiously over them. Lance, his first knight and closest ally was of course still there, his hand fisted on the pommel of his sword. His knuckles were white with the effort. Morilu, his father’s own knight also stood there, his arms folded over his massive chest, a deep frown on his bear-like face as he stared down at them.
He had to swallow twice before he could speak again. “Find out who did this. I want them brought before me.”
Both knights bowed, but before they could rise, the doctor spoke. “You won’t have to look far.” He looked up from his inspection of the girl and added a belated, “Sire.”
“What do you mean?”
The old man wiped his blood smeared hands on his tunic. “It was Marshal Vabar.”
The name sent a shiver down his spin, but Ingwen couldn’t say why. He didn’t know the name, although it did seem familiar. He frowned as he thought that perhaps there was something he was supposed to remember. He shook his head, dismissing the thought for later.
“Who is Marshal Vabar?”
The doctor frowned back at him. “He is your seneschal, is he not? He lives in your castle and orders us about with the king’s command to back him.”
Ingwen’s blood boiled and he felt Lance’s hand settle on his shoulder. Ingwen took a deep breath, careful not to let his hands clench into fists while he still had them in her hair. He heard a low, deep growl and thought for a moment it had been from him, but, upon opening his eyes, he saw that Morilu’s hand had dropped to the sword at his hip and his teeth were bared behind his beard. Ingwen nodded his head to Lance, signaling that he was calm, then turned back to the doctor who was once more seeing to the girl’s wounds.
“How long has he been here?”
The man shrugged, “How long have you been gone, this last time? Two years? He arrived with a garrison of men just after you left.” The doctor’s dark eyes turned up and caught Ingwen in their strange, glittering glare. “He’s right evil and we’re grateful to have you back.”
“Has he killed many innocents?” Lance asked, and this time Ingwen was sure it was him that growled.
“She’s not dead. She may even live, gods willing. She wasn’t up there long, and those that carried out his orders did their best to help her. We all did.” He sat back and placed his hands on his knees. “Vabar has put many to the sword, and quite a few to the stake. We learned long ago not to disobey his orders and laws.” His eyes flicked between Ingwen and the girl in his arms. “I’m glad to know that they were not your orders. We would be finished had they been.”
Ingwen made a face, then turned back to the girl. “My own people will fear me now,” he said. He felt perhaps that his heart was breaking. For himself and for this girl. “What was her crime?”
“Saying no.”
“Explain.”
“Vabar wanted her,” the doctor said with a shrug. “She said no. She has always been a stubborn girl. Said that there would be magic in her future. Refused every marriage offer, and refused to come when Vabar summoned her to his chambers.”
“He had her staked for this?” Lance shouted when Ingwen could only stare at her still face.
“Perhaps more. Who knows what goes on behind the closed doors of Castle Shilor?”
Ingwen went very still, and Lance snarled, “I’ll kill him.”
Down the road, Ingwen caught sight of some soldiers returning, a litter carried on the back of a horse. “Can we move her?”
The doctor snapped back to his patient and nodded. “It should be alright. We must be careful, though. Her wounds are fresh and she’s lost so much blood already. I’ll walk with the litter.”
Ingwen lifted her carefully as the men stretched out the litter. He laid her carefully on the thick fabric, her hair tangling over his arm. He hesitated a moment before pulling away to drink in her face.
She was beautiful, he thought, under all the grime and blood. She had a round face, full lips that were nearly blue, and fine cheekbones. He didn’t remember her from before, but then, she couldn’t have been more than a babe when he left for the wars. He carefully removed his arm from behind her head and touched his thumb to her cheek. It was cold.
He signaled the knights to move and their small band continued on their way up the road to the castle perched on the mountainside.
His father had had the castle built before he had been born. He had used much magic to complete it in time for his birth, and just starting up at the structure, it was obvious. The stones were pure white, almost glowing in the bright light of the day. The tiles of the roof were a bright red, and trees grew up around the castle, hiding the base from sight from the road. Vibrant red banners flew in the wind at the top of each tower, and others hung draped out of the thin slits that served as windows.
Once they got closer, he could see the fine mist that had settled over the ground near the castle, the final remains of his father’s magic. The white fog swirled around their ankles as they marched up to the front gates. They had already been opened and waiting for them. Ingwen’s men were still crowding the courtyard, and there were numerous men he didn’t know lined up. He urged his horse apart from the men and narrowed his eyes at the tall, thin man that parted himself from the strangers.
“My lord Shilor, welcome home.”
“Who are you?”
He bowed his head. “My name is Vabar. King Betun sent me here to help you rule your lands while you were away.”
Ingwen moved his horse closer the man, hovering over him. “Who asked him? I do not need your type of help.” Just then the men pulled the girl close enough that several servants came running to help.
Vabar raised one brow at the sight. “You’ve brought this rubbish back?”
Ingwen clenched his jaw. “Go back to Betun and tell him I have returned home, thus we don’t need you here anymore.”
Lance brushed his shoulder against Ingwen’s leg. He knew the man wanted blood, heck, he wanted the man’s blood, but there were politics involved here. He had to step carefully.
Vabar bowed once again. “We shall speak over diner perhaps? I’ve had the kitchens prepare a meal for you and your knights.”
Ingwen looked to his soldiers still awaiting his orders. “They’ve prepared food for you.”
“Your Grace, for the knights, sure, not for the common soldier. Surely you don’t let them eat at your table as well?”
Ingwen looked back down at Vabar with repulsion. “They gave just as much as my knights in serving me. I will not treat them with anything less than the honor they deserve.” He turned his horse away and headed toward the great stairs. He dismounted and looked over his shoulder. Morilu was at his side.
“What happened to Lance?”
“He went with Lad- the girl to see to her comfort. The men will take care of themselves if you want to see here too.”
Ingwen nodded and quickly marched up the stairs and into the castle. The servants inside all froze upon seeing his arrival, fear and awe filling their faces at the sight of him. He chose to ignore it for the moment.
He was used to those kinds of looks.
Before the fire in the great hall the knights had laid the girl’s litter and she and Lance were sitting there, glowing in the fire’s light. He joined them. Lance looked up and jerked his hand away from her hair.
“She seems to be sleeping well enough. The doctor went to prepare some sort of soporific medicine for her incase the pain becomes too much and wakes.”
“Do you know her?”
Lance shook his head. “Never seen her before. The servants know her.” He waved over a maid and the old woman came closer to kneel beside the litter. “Tell him.”
“Sire, she’s the daughter of the millwright. The late millwright. Marshal Vabar had her family put to the sword in an effort to subdue her.”
Lance shivered with repressed anger and looked up at his lord. “Why can’t we put him to the sword?”
“Because the king sponsored him and nothing good can come of killing him.”
“Nothing good can come of letting him live.”
Privately, Ingwen agreed with him. “What’s her name?” he asked, instead of answering.
“Sarori.”
The two men stared down at the unconscious girl as the maid watched. She looked between the two of them before standing and walking away. Somehow, she felt that there was going to be more drama in the castle whether Vabar stayed or if he went.
