Spoils of War (Closed: prettyserpentine)

[Knightmare27]

Outside the tent, the last sounds of a fading battle announced the end of a long day of carnage. Victory! Hard-won, but entirely deserved. Wilhelm von Hohenheim stroked his beard as he looked over the map of the battleground with a sense of satisfaction. His faithful light cavalry had again carried the day, overrunning the enemy cannon at just the right moment with a brillant surprise attack.

Both the count and the young cavalryman who had just brought him the excellent news looked towards the entrance, startled, as another messenger entered. This one was older, broad-shouldered and caked in so much mud and blood that he looked like the embodiment of battle itself. "My lord! I bring further good news! The enemy commander is ours! She..." - he paused for a moment to catch his breath - "...she is being brought here by our men."

Wilhelm was too disciplined to give a loud whoop when he heard this, but he almost did. The commander they had captured was not just anyone. She was a strong woman. Haughty and headstrong, and quite the beauty. Exactly his type of woman. Fine treasure for a victorious commander.

 

[prettyserpentine]

She had been set upon in her flight across the fields. She had screamed for her men and women to retreat, and most of them had died doing so. When the enemy had caught up to her after her horse had broken it's leg, she had managed to kill two of them before she had set off running. Her armour made it awkward, it was too big for her and very cumbersome.

Her captors had asked for her name and she had spat in their faces as they dragged her along the ground by her long black hair. She was covered in mud, grass and blood and had been wriggling, screaming through her gag. They had tied her wrists and ankles, and she knew they were taking her to that Hohenheim bastard.

She had given them quite a fight before she had been disarmed, and as they stopped to take some water, she sliced the bonds from her hands on a piece of loose metal from her leg guards. It took her all of a minute to grab one of their swords from the horse's saddlebag and deal a fatal blow to one of their necks. That left two. She gritted her teeth, reaching up to pull off her gag before being blinded by a handful of grit in her eyes. She gasped, inhaling some of the dust and coughing.

Evangeline of Eichstatt never saw the blow coming. Pain exploded in the back of her head as one of the remaining soldiers lifted a club and slammed it against her head.

"Tie her wrists again, and take off the armour," the other soldier ordered.

They threw the unconscious young woman on the ground, dressed in her cloth underclothes, and chain mail as they dragged her back to the encampment by her arms.

 

[Knightmare27]

He did not have to wait long for the rest of the cavalry to arrive, nor was it hard to guess what they were carrying: Long before they entered the tent, he could hear a wild cacophony of the rattling of chain armour and the hoofbeats of fast horses. More soldiers entered the tent, dragging behind them what had to be her, judging from the long, matted black hair. She was bound on hands and feet with rough rope, and had a gag in her mouth. Some blood could be seen seeping out onto the collar of her undershirt, evidently from a blow to the head. She had not come without a fight; that much was obvious.

Now, though, she was just lying there, not making any trouble. He quickly confirmed that she had not died from the head wound. No - she was merely unconscious. Her entire body showed small scratches, and her underclothing was torn and ripped in places.

"What happened to her? Why is she mangled like that?"

"That evil bitch nearly escaped on the way, my lord! One of my men is dead, and we could not let her do that. We bound her to our horses and dragged her all the way here."

"She will regret that murder, I assure you. Now, though, go and get me the surgeon. We have to make sure that she lives to regret it."

A strong young woman. She was a pitiful heap of dirt, blood and tatters at the moment, but even underneath all that, it was obvious what a beauty she would be once they had finished cleaning her up and tending to her wounds. Proud, fierce and beautiful. She would provide the distraction he needed as a recent widower. When she would wake up, she would learn her place. He was not planning on something as vulgar as rape - he was a conqueror in all things, and this warrior lady's will would prove an excellent challenge to him. He had his ways of making this tiger into a kitten; ways which were as cunning as his battle plans, and almost as vicious.

The surgeon's arrival woke him from his daydream. Old Alfred was a disagreeable curmudgeon, but Wilhelm tolerated it because he was an absolutely brillant sawbones, having saved his lord's life at least twice, and his mens' lives countless times. True to form, the old healer kept the formalities of greeting almost insultingly short and immediately bent over the young woman. His movements were fast, methodical and precise. He inspected and cleaned wounds, checked for broken bones and applied wound dressings with practiced routine, then pried open the captive's full, rosy lips (Wilhelm almost envied him because he would have to wait to touch them...) and poured in five drops from a small flask.

"She needs rest - and I mean rest", he said with a tone that made it all too clear he knew about his lord's plans with her, "until at least tomorrow. Give her a nice bed, feed her, then she can take an entire cavalry regiment. Not that you would do that, of course - your lordship..."

For that last comment and the dirty grin that followed it, Wilhelm would have been fully within his rights to decapitate the old man, but the surgeon was much more valuable with his head still on. The count quickly dismissed him and called for his servants to help him pack. If they hurried, they could be back at the castle that night.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Evangeline awoke, drowsy and aching. She could taste something in her mouth, it tasted medicinal. Immediately, reflexively, she turned her head and spat. Just as she had done so, her head started to throb and she let it roll to the side, groaning. She tried to lift her arms, and felt the cold metal of shackles around her wrists. It was the same around her ankles, they had been bound together. She groaned again, still tasting the unusual taste.

Slowly, with some amount of wincing, she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a covered, locked cage. It had iron bars. It was the kind of cage she would have used to transport animals, and there was a tattered blanket thrown over if. She could feel rocking, moving, a rhythm, and hear the wooden creak of wheels. A cart. She had been taken prisoner. Evangeline scrambled to her knees, holding the bars to steady herself as she pulled the tattered cloth off.

The cart was empty, save for her cage and she couldn't see much, except slivers of light through the cracks in the wooden siding. She looked down at herself. Her armour was gone, and her underclothes and chainmail were filthy. She sat down on the straw that lay in the bottom of her cage, and lifted her shackled hands to her head. The back felt tender, she felt a very pronounced bump that gave her a burst of pain and a wave of nausea. As her vision swam, she sagged weakly against the side of the cage, her hands slipping down the iron bars.

She bowed her head, trying to keep from fainting as she was jostled about in the back of the cart. She knew what would happen now. They would take her to Von Hohenheim's castle and likely torture and hang her for her opposition. She gently touched her slender neck. It wouldn't take long for the rope to snap such a thin throat. She swallowed, shivering suddenly as she pulled the tattered blanket inside the cage to cover herself. It caught a little on the broken links of her mail, which was starting to hurt her skin, covered in bruises and wounds already from the battle. Suddenly, the cart hit a rock, and lurched. Her slight figure was thrown against the side of the cage. She cried out in pain as her head connected with the iron bars, and she fell to her side in the straw. The cart slowed, and the back door opened.

Just before she lost consciousness for the second time that day, Evangline looked up at the man on horseback peering in at her. With his black hair and piercing blue eyes, she knew it was him. Her enemy. She rolled onto her side, trying to reach in his direction with her shackled hands, a look of pure defiance in her bright green eyes which glared at him from her bruised, muddy and bloody face.

She parted her full, rosy lips and they drew back in a snarl, revealing straight, pretty teeth that looked poised to bite.

"I will have your head, Von... Von... Hoh..en..."

She breathed out heavily, her head dropping as her violet eyelids drifted closed and her head fell to rest against her outstretched arms, the fingers gripping the iron bars loosely.

As the cart shifted, Evangeline's body rolled on to her back, the chainmail clinging to the curve of her hips and thigh. The blanket obscured her upper body. But her pale face, although marred by cuts, bruises and dirt, showed her full lips and beautiful cheekbones, her softly arching eyebrows, the point of her cute chin and the gentle curve of her jaw. As she lay, in a woman's splendour, she did not look like a warrior commander, but a proud lady. It was her only natural disguise.

 

[Knightmare27]

After a long journey, exhausted but filled with the warm glow of victory (not to mention quite a different warm glow - one he would have to wait at least a day to satiate), he was home again. The castle looked unusually menacing in the pale moonlight, the lowered drawbridge with the two large, round windows looking like some animal's mouth, its tongue hungrily lowered to swallow up the victorious warriors.

"Place the cage over there, next to the south stairway", he ordered. Turning towards one of the captives, a young barmaid who had surrendered to them when they had been looting the enemy's camp (a decision she no doubt had regretted seconds later when the infamously rowdy cavalrymen had gotten hold of her), he ordered: "Unchain this one. She will help me carry that traitorous shit up the stairs."

The guards did so and the girl, obviously still intimidated by the soldiers' brutality towards her, made some insecure steps towards the cage. The door swung open with a creak, and she put her hands around the still unconscious noblewoman's ankles, while Wilhelm took her bound wrists. As the rest of the prisoners were being marched towards the dungeon, the two carried the body upstairs, towards the servants' quarters. The cook had slept in the room they were carrying her into, until the faithful old woman had died. He had not gotten around to hiring a new one yet; right now, though, her empty chamber would prove ideal for keeping his prisoner while she recovered. They dropped her on the bed of the sparsely-furnished room (aside from the bed, there was only a low table with a candle, a chamberpot and a jug of water with a bowl). This place would make a good makeshift cell. It was warm and comfortable, but very hard to escape from. The only window was high in the wall and hard for anyone - even someone as fit and slender as her - to crawl through. There was a heavy door, and there was almost always someone in the kitchen behind it. Besides, these quarters would help her get used to the role of a mere servant which she was about to be forced into.

He locked the door and ordered the barmaid to turn around. Taking some rope from a hook on the wall, he bound her wrists, then wrapped the rest of it around her waist and a wooden pillar. She was a sturdy girl, and, even though she was probably a little exhausted - what with suffering the attentions of so many soldiers - she would help him satisfy his itch that night while he was waiting for the main course, so to speak, to recover. She looked fearful and exhausted, obviously knowing exactly what was in store for her, but not caring anymore. Poor girl. She should have known better than to surrender to soldiers who had been on campaign for a few weeks...

He returned to Evangeline's new cell with two objects: A large jar of wound ointment from Alfred, and a neck iron from the dungeons. First, her mail shirt had to go. He untied her ankles and wrists, then pulled it off over her head. Next part. Her long, muscular legs were now naked, allowing him a good look at all the bruises and cuts covering them. With less dexterity than Alfred (like he would let the old man do this and rob himself of all the pleasure!), he started attending to her injuries. He could feel the powerful muscles which had failed her just this once.

As he pulled the padded shirt off her, only two broad strips of cloth were now holding back her innermost secrets. Even so, there were many things worth seeing and, even more, feeling. As he rubbed the wound ointment onto her stomach, he could feel the muscles underneath it, the warmth of her body and a slow, uneasy heartbeat, as if even her unconscious mind knew what was waiting for her. Her hands - surprisingly elegant for such a warrior - were covered in dirt and a thin film of blood, and he took special care in cleaning them. He almost caressed her slender fingers as he washed them, then spread some of the medicine on her bloodied wrists.

The cloth around her chest came off next, and the sight made him gasp and gave him a swelling which the poor barmaid outside would have to endure later. He could not help but give these two perfect fruit a feel. What he felt only made the bulge worse, and as his hands squeezed them quite coarsely, his breathing got slower while his throat became dry. His heart pounded as he pulled off the last piece of cloth, leaving her naked. The neck iron snapped shut around her slender neck, then he looped the other end of the chain around a ceiling beam and fastened it with a padlock.

That look... that feel... the idea that she would soon be his. He could barely contain himself, and his hands shook as he freed the barmaid from the pillar. She did not compare in the slightest to the marvelous beauty in that room, but she would do.

 

[prettyserpentine]

As the mid-morning sunlight shone over her eyelids from the small, narrow window, it coaxed Evangeline awake. She squinted, rubbing her hands over her eyes and groaned. Her throat was stiff, and as she moved her hands down, they stopped at the neck iron. Her lips thinned in annoyance as her eyes followed the chain up and over the ceiling beam.

'They even have decent cells,' she thought to herself with irritation. Apparently the art of a good dungeon was lost on Von Hohenheim. She stood up, stretching her limbs, unabashed by her nudity. As her gaze took in her meagre comforts, she used the chamberpot, and then threw its contents out the window a little awkwardly. After a moment of survey, she knew there was no way she would ever squeeze through it.

She lifted the jug of water and proceeded to scrub herself until her skin was almost red. She tentatively washed between her legs, and upon feeling no ache she surmised that they had left her alone while she had been unconscious. This was not necessarily a good thing. She bent over the bowl, and washed her long dark hair, scrubbing at it mercilessly, her head a little tender from the blow she had received the previous day.

When she was clean, she sat back on the bed again, drawing her knees up to her chest and pulling the blanket on the bed over herself for warmth. It was coarse, and scratched against her skin. She leaned her head back on the wall, and thought about her predicament. During the war, her family had fled and she had remained in the family seat with her father and brother. Her brother had been killed in the first campaign and her father had fled. She frowned, remembering his cowardly actions, while Evangeline had remained to fight with her people.

Her eyes took in the room and her chest heaved for a moment in sorrow. This was a far cry from her former life of splendour. Silk dresses and a lady's maid. Dances, fine wine and the prospect of marrying well. And now she was shackled, naked, and beaten down. She steeled her emotions.

"Don't you dare cry, not now..." She muttered angrily to herself.

Von Hohenheim had been a distant neighbour, and she hadn't cast him a second thought even when they ended up on opposing sides. Her father had been intimidated by him, and Evangeline knew little about the man other than his reputation as a military leader, and how his wife had been a reputedly pretty woman before her death.

A breeze fluttered through the window, and she shivered. She could smell food, and suddenly realised how hungry she was.

 

[Knightmare27]

In a surprising turn, the barmaid had turned out to be quite satisfying despite the temptation to ravage the noblewoman immediately, recovery be damned. He had spent a wild night, and the terrified squeals of the young serving wench only added to his cruel enjoyment. Still, he could not resist checking on Evangeline early the following morning. It was cold, and he almost envied her having a "cell" next to the balmy, warm kitchen while he was desperately trying to get his hands warm by rubbing them.

To his satisfaction, Wilhelm found his captive lying on the bed, still shackled - not (apparently) plotting an escape, attempting an escape or waiting behind the door with a heavy object. All these were possiblities with a woman as fierce as she was reputed to be, but shock and exhaustion had evidently reduced her fighting spirit somewhat. He was taking no risks, though: A long cane in his right hand was ready to beat her down immediately if she showed any sign of rebellion. Not even the slightest amount of it could be tolerated if she was going to have her pridefulness taken away.

He gave her shoulder a hard poke with the cane and, as soon as he had her full attention, started to coldly and calmly lay out the ground rules for her new life: "You have died. You have no name anymore, and no use. Until you can prove you are not entirely useless, you will not eat, you will not drink, you will be stripped of your clothing and your right to speak. You must obey immediately and without complaint. If you fail to do so, you will be severely punished. All animals of mine are given a special brand on their behind, and so will you. The branding irons are already heating up in the blacksmith's shop. Your first order: Throw off that blanket, and kneel on the bed, hands behind your back."

He unknotted the rope he had taken with him, slung around his waist and got ready to tie her hands if she complied. If she did not, she would get a taste of the cane much earlier than he had planned. Poor foolish girl! She had probably expected to just be beheaded, maybe tortured a little beforehand (well, he did plan on doing that later - the people would certainly love to hear her confess some misdeeds, especially given her lustful reputation). He was not planning on a vulgar head-chopping. What greater humiliation could there be for a noblewoman, especially one as haughty as her, than to be turned into, essentially, an animal? Even if she was headstrong now, hunger, thirst and pain would eventually make her into nothing more than a pet, forced to obey her archenemy and satisfy his desires. For her, it had to be a fate worse than death - which was exactly why he had chosen it for her.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Evangeline stood up, the blanket dropping around her ankles and she stood as close to him as the shackles would allow. He was at least a head taller than her, but she was not intimidated and stood before him with an air of disdain and pride.

"I have a name. I am Evangeline of Eichstatt and you will not break me, Von Hohenheim." She spat on the floor at his feet, clenching her fists at her side and glaring up into those piercing eyes. "I do not fear your brand, because I can cut it out of my flesh, and when I escape, I will visit a thousand more horrible tortures upon you." She gritted her teeth. "If I am to starve, and go thirsty, so be it. I will die before I give you any form of joy from watching my torture."

She shook with rage and hatred, her proud face raised and her green eyes shimmering in the light. "You can use that rope to strangle yourself, for good measure."

Evangeline took a step back, wishing she had kept the pot full of urine to cast over him. She moved to the bed, sliding the pot out, holding it as a weapon. She knew he was going to beat her, and she could but try and hold him at bay.

"And I will never... never kneel before a bastard like you!"

 

[Knightmare27]

The chain rattled as she stood up, and Wilhelm instinctively took a step back as he saw the piercing glare in her green eyes. He recovered quickly, though, and a nasty grin played around his lips as he chuckled involuntarily. Of course she fought back! He had expected her to, and would have thought less of her if she had not, and allowed herself to be branded like some cow; this was a battle of the wills, and she had just proven herself a worthy opponent. Even better, she had just provided him with an excellent excuse for days and weeks of excruciating pain. She was very bold in claiming she would rather starve than submit to him - but she was a spoiled girl! Had she ever experienced starvation? He would have her begging and in tears in no time. This was a battle of the wills - but she would lose. He had always held that a fair battle was simply a battle which had not been planned well enough.

Standing right in front of him, so wild and determined, she looked almost intimidating in spite of the ridiculous weapon she was wielding (hopefully, she had at least emptied it). She also looked most alluring, but merely raping her felt like cheating; her defeat had to be in the mind before she surrendered her body. Besides, and much more importantly, she would probably rip off some quite important parts if she got hold of them. Her body had recovered quite well, but he could still see the scratched and bruises, standing out against her skin, which was taking on an angry red tone as she returned to her old, savage form.

An experienced combatant, he was already planning the "fight" in his head as he looked at the fuming woman, who was apparently quite determined to crack his skull with the heavy chamberpot: His first strike would hit her across the eyes - that should blind her and make her drop the pot. While she was blind, he would have enough time to wrap the rope around her neck and apply the supremely calming effect of a death threat - even a wolf bitch like this needed to breathe. If she did not stay blind long enough for that, he would simply cane her into submission. She was naked and unarmed, and the neck iron limited her movements. If she did get too dangerous, he could always get out of her range by simply stepping out of the room, leaving her to frantically pull on her leash like a maddened dog. The picture made him smile inwardly.

His left hand, still holding the rope, made a quick motion towards her breast, as if to grab it. She would probably fight to the death rather than allow him to fondle her, and the threat of this would hopefully divert her attention from the much bigger threat, which would strike across her eyes mere moments later.

 

[prettyserpentine]

She shivered as he smiled, it made him appear much more frightening. Especially his laugh. Her body tensed, goosebumps prickled over her skin and her nipples hardened. Adrenaline coursed through her and it was obvious she was afraid.

Evangeline knew she was beaten. Her instinct was no match for von Hohenheim's years of strategic battle planning. She had no idea what was running through his head, and although her words sounded brave, she knew there was no way out. She stood before him, wielding the chamber pot, and as he came at her, his hand outstretched and heading for her breast, she moved backwards, a little confused, and always wary of the cane in his other hand.

She lashed out, swiping the chamberpot at his hand. It was a cumbersome weapon, but the only other thing in the room was a candlestick, and it was no use. Her cheeks glowed with both anger and humiliation. She hadn't ever been naked in front of a man before, and to be naked in front of her enemy added insult to injury.

"Get away from me!" She snapped in a commanding tone, waving the pot as he advanced on her. "Get out, you bastard!"

 

[Knightmare27]

The cane hit the chamberpot and made a resounding noise - damn! She had parried his blow, intended to blind her. Still, he held all the cards: He was clothed, rested and wielding a cane - while she was naked, tired and wielding a receptacle for her own shit.

The picture made him chuckle: It was such a perfect reflection of her situation. Naked, shackled and helpless, but wielding a "weapon" and trying to strike a commanding pose, as if she could still command respect from him - her archenemy! She was not to be underestimated, and he was glad he had not - the chain would keep her safely at bay.

Time to enact his fall-back plan: With a nimble jump, he was out of the room, and just outside the range of movement the chain allowed her. Then, the bull-baiting started: A few quick lashes and pokes with the cane, then he sprang back to a safe distance. He knew this would anger her to no end, and really drive home her powerless state. If he repeated his quick hits and sudden escapes a few times - she would surely give up in frustration, or at least exhaustion. If not, it at least promised to be really funny.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Von Hohenheim poked and baited Evangeline for almost a full hour. She was tired, hungry, and the more she fought him off, the more tired she became. Her neck started to chafe and hurt as he lured her out and she strained against the chains around her throat. Her black hair hung around her pale face and wild eyes, rimmed with red. She was exhausted.

Her creamy white skin was now additionally marked with lashes from the cane, and she yelped angrily every time it connected with her body. She was furious, and finally, in a fit of rage, threw the chamberpot at him. It missed as he deftly ducked out of the way.

"Stop it! Leave me alone for god's sake!" She couldn't help it, she started to cry, and curled up beside the bed and the wall. Naked, humiliated, beaten and hungry, Evangeline felt the woe of her current situation. "Stop doing this, and just kill me already, or put me to work..." Her tear stained face looked up at him, she could barely even sob she was so tired.

"You're a cold hearted dog..."

 

[Knightmare27]

After a long and exhausting (but exhilarating) battle, she was finally down: Beaten, sweaty and ready to concede defeat. With a wide grin, he commanded: "Down on your knees, hands behind your back, you dog. You have earned yourself more pain than you can imagine."

Almost an hour! It was not like he did not have a county to run... another reason to make her suffer later. He was a serious man and did not like to have his time wasted, even by something as fun as this. There was a place down in the dungeon which was ideal for her. According to legend, it had once held one of his own ancestors after he was caught in an unspeakable crime. He had reportedly lasted almost a month in there, but he was not planning in making her follow in his footsteps. She would just have to endure a day or two stuck in an extremely narrow wall niche. Too small to stand, lie down or even sit. Two days of crouching in total darkness would probably teach her proper humility. As he waited for her to comply with his order, he took great pleasure in describing this place to his captive. It could make her rise up again, out of sheer terror of being sent there, but it was just too much fun to watch her reaction to the idea of being entombed for a few days.

"Insults will get you nowhere except the 'mouse hole'", he said; "You are nothing but an animal now, and you can not go around insulting people like that."

 

[prettyserpentine]

Evangeline did as he commanded, kneeling on the floor, her head raised as the chains around her neck clinked awkwardly. She clasped her hands behind her back as she knelt, and listened to him describe the hole he was intending on locking her in. She started to shake, and struggle, whimpering against him.

"Please, don't put me in there, please, I don't like the dark..." She was tired, hungry, and frightened.

Struggling against him was useless, he was rested, fed and a lot stronger than she was. The terror of her impending imprisonment in that hole was seeping into her, and she started to keen and cry in fear.

"I am begging you, pleased don't put me in there! My mother said that place was haunted..." She pulled on her bonds, writhing against him as he tied her up. "Please don't put me in there!! Please!!"

She was shaking in terror now, crying as she knelt on the floor.

 

[Knightmare27]

He wasted no time in wrapping the rope tightly around her shaking wrists, controlling the knot several times and tightening the cords until her flesh bulged out from under them. So close to her, he could hear and feel her heart beat wildly, and her breath getting shorter and more choked the closer her inevitable imprisonment was getting. If she had thought her pleading would soften his heart, she had clearly misjudged him. It merely caused him to grin cheerfully as he pulled her up by the restraints around her hands. She had not yet surrendered fully, but he would soon have her in a state where this crying, puppy-eyed submissiveness would be the only pose she knew.

Only when the rope was absolutely tight did he unlock the neck iron and lead her out of the room. Her naked feet pattered on the cold stone floor as he led her down to the dungeon, the short rope in his hands. As they walked, he feasted his eyes on her firm buttocks, their white skin shining with a lattice of thin red stripes. The many flights of stairs, growing steadily darker and more uneven as they descended, seemed almost endless - but not as endless as it had to be for her, with the prospect of days in the hole in front of her.

"Yes, I know that the dungeons are haunted. Who knows - you may just end up adding to the number of the ghosts down there. Maybe it will be best for you to die in there - freezing, or getting eaten by the rats. I hope, though, that you will last. You may yet become a useful piece of dirt, instead of the useless one you are now."

They had arrived at the tiny iron door just above the floor. Behind it as it swung open was an unimaginably small chamber, entirely dark and with a rough, wet stone floor. Evangeline was quite tall, and would barely fit in there. "Crouch", he commanded, emphasizing the order with a tug of the rope. "The last five prisoners all went mad in there. Oh, the things they imagined! Spiders, flames. One even thought he had died and gone to hell - but that would actually be an improvement in my opinion".

As soon as she was "safely" in there, he would remove the rope around her wrists. Being able to move "freely" inside the narrow hole would make her confinement even more maddening.

 

[prettyserpentine]

She did as he bid, not seeing a way out of this situation. She tried her best to hide her terror as she entered the small confined space.

Evangeline closed her eyes, and started to pray. Her mind told her she was bound to die in here, and as her feet acclimatised to the damp, wet stone floor, she felt the cold in the walls creep into her skin.

As soon as Von Hohenheim had released the rope, he locked the little door, leaving her in utter darkness. She curled up in a ball, not able to stretch her legs, or sit comfortably. She leaned against the cold damp wall and sobbed. The thought of spending days in this hole upset her awfully, and she cried her broken heart out. It was only days ago she had been able to sleep in a comfortable bed, in a warm home, and now this. She would have to spend her imprisonment in this hole in her own filth, without food or water.

The utter hopelessness of her situation enraged her and she banged her fists against the door, screaming defiantly.

"I hate you, I hate you, and I swear to god I will get out of here and I shall skin you alive!" Her screams were cut off by her sobs. She couldn't hear anything.

Evangeline screamed until her throat was raw.

 

[Knightmare27]

The screams from behind that door faded away as he returned to the stairway. He would have to wait for days before he would get to enjoy her again, but the thought of her being reduced to a whimpering, begging pet made it all worth it. That haughty woman, begging to obey his orders, yes, even begging to satisfy his lust! He could well wait a few days for that.

He did not return for three days. The only one who went down there was a servant who was to pour water through a very small breathing hole in the door daily. She would have to live off lapping those few drops off her body with her tongue, like an animal. Then she would shiver for the rest of the day, thoroughly drenched and sitting in a small puddle of water. The man was under strict orders not to speak to her or even make excessive noise; nothing was to disturb the tomb-like silence of her premature grave.

Many tasks were waiting for him. The fighting was won - but that just meant the work was of a different kind now. Mercenaries had to be paid, prisoners interrogated, and the fortifications manned with new troops. The barmaid suffered his attentions once during the long wait, squealing and begging all the way, then was thrown into a large cell together with the other commoner prisoners. With no one to pay ransom for them, they could just rot in there; feeding them would have been much too large an expense (those few whose relatives did scrape together some money were freed - it was the only way to at least profit from the rabble a little). No ransom offers for Evangeline came in (she did not have many friends, he noted with some satisfaction), but he would not have accepted anyway. For all the talk about how worthless she was, he still considered her his most priced piece of loot. As soon as her will was broken, he would restore her to her old beauty - have her washed, her long black hair combed and her skin healed - and then her beauty would be entirely in his service. For now, though, it was an unfortunate necessity to degrade her. For someone as vain as her, a mirror could become a torture instrument.

When he returned to the hole, it was the middle of the night - not that it probably mattered much to his poor prisoner, who had likely not slept in days for now. He gave the door two mighty kicks with his boots to wake her up, then shouted: "Do you want to be freed from there? Yes? Tell me who is in there, and I may free you..."

 

[prettyserpentine]

Evangeline's voice was almost gone, she had screamed and cried so much. She didn't even flinch as she lay weakly, half crouching, her body scraped and bleeding, the wounds sore and red. She took in a small breath, and her whisper came out, her throat raw.

"There is no one in here." She tried to say 'Let me be' but no sound came out.

She was broken, exhausted, the tiny spark of life within her was all but extinguished. She was reduced to lying in her own filth, urine and vomit. She had cried until she had no will left.

Never in her life had a woman wanted to die as much as Evangeline did during that last day. No light, no food, no kindness. Was this to be her life now? Death would have sufficed, she thought hopelessly. She had been listening to the cries of others prisoners, ones who had been tortured as she expected to be.

Would he let her out? Or was this another cruel trick?

She was too weak to care. She slumped in the dirt, waiting for death.

 

[Knightmare27]

No one? This answer was interesting. She certainly sounded considerably less proud than she had days ago. He opened the door and pulled her limp, twisted body out, immediately locking her neck in an iron shackle. There she lay, pale and exhausted, visibly weakened by days in the cold without food, barely conscious, smelling of her own excrement. She felt cold and clammy, and except for the occasional soft sobbing, almost seemed dead as she lay there in her own waste.

"Fool. You could have saved yourself days of pain and suffering by just agreeing to be branded, by just understanding that you really are an animal now. Why do you keep acting like a human? She is dead. Get on all fours, like you are supposed to be, and do whatever I tell you. Why hurt yourself with more pride and pointless fighting?"

She seemed to have been beaten... for the moment; still, he tightened his grip on the chain fixed to her neck. He could not let up his oppression just because she was weak for the moment. She had to feel that she had no chance at better treatment until she submitted completely. Until then, he had to treat her worse than an animal.

With a skeptical look, he regarded the bruises and wounds on her skin; she would need some more attention from the doctor after the branding if she was to survive this at all. She needed washing, too - a foul-smelling pleasure slave could please no one.

"You wonder why I did not torture and execute you like the others, don't you? Well, do not worry. You will get your opportunity to confess all your crimes quite soon; you will even get some torture if you should not be forthcoming with enough details. I do not, however, plan to kill you. We both know that there are worse ways to destroy someone. I am planning to destroy your human nature. You will be an animal, tortured by the memory of having once been human. Don't you agree that is much more of a fitting end for someone so proud? Even the most dedicated executioner can make a death last only a few scant hours. That may be enough for mere rabble, but you are worth more. Your death will last years, since I am about to kill your soul first. Your body will only follow when I tire of using it."

His grin had become ever broader as he gave his little speech to the prisoner. It sounded rehearsed, yet it was quite spontaneous - an evil glimpse into his devious plans.