Thalassa's POV.
Had I just glimpsed the depths of his true madness? He spoke to his sword! An hour ago, I feigned sleep, my eyes fixed on his intimidating naked form as he clutched that mighty weapon. The sword terrifies me. It feels alive, yet utterly still. An unseen power, a palpable evil, radiates from it. Even now, as I steal a glance at it by the far enclosure, in the darkness of our royal tent, it hums with a dark, ancient malevolence. Clutching the hide covering tightly against me, I seek futile protection from its unspoken wrath in the oppressive darkness.
"No..." I heard the General stir, a rustling sound breaking the silence. I risked a quick glance behind me and saw beads of sweat glistening on his brow. "No, I cannot!...Please don't make me..." he moaned, a tormented plea. "No!" He jolted awake, and I immediately lay back down, squeezing my eyes shut, startled by his sudden outburst. Fearful that he might realize I was awake, I remained perfectly still. He had a nightmare, I thought, listening to his harsh, uneven breaths. Gradually, his breathing softened, and I felt him move closer, nuzzling my hair and inhaling deeply.
I lay as still as possible, not daring to provoke him. He pulled me into a tight embrace before his breathing deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. "Thalassa..." he breathed, then silence. Who is this General? Still capable of such coldness, yet showing these small glimpses of warmth. One day to recuperate was a small mercy, and I was grateful for this brief respite, this time for healing, I thought as I drifted into sleep, held in the warm embrace of my tormentor.
--
I awoke to the cheerful melodies of birdsong, mingled with the sounds of movement and voices outside our tent. Within, the rustling of fabric and the clinking of armor drew my sleepy gaze to the center of the tent. Valorik stood there, securing the final pieces of his armor, his eyes fixed on me.
I sat up, pulling the blanket to cover myself, my dark burgundy hair cascading forward. He paused his movements and stood fully, my eyes flicking briefly to his sword, now securely sheathed at his side. "Why do you cover yourself? We are wed, slave, and I have seen all of you by now."
"Must you continue to call me slave?" I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper.
"In here, I can call you whatever I wish. Now, drop the covering." I let the blanket fall, and his gaze swept over me, his lips slightly parted. "Why do you harden?" he asked softly.
"I am cold, nothing more," I replied, unable to meet his intense stare. A dark laugh rumbled from his chest. Suddenly, he was upon me, his mouth latching onto my breast, a groan vibrating in his throat. The sensation spread quickly between my legs. "No, please," I moaned softly, "you said a day!"
He pulled his mouth away, a smirk playing on his lips as he gripped my breast. "A day you shall have, whore," he said, his tone sharp with anger. With his other hand, he slid a finger into my opening. "Hmf," I involuntarily moaned. "No, I!" I stammered. "Though you seem ready now," he whispered close to my ear. I felt him twist one of my nipples as he thrust his fingers deeper. "Oh, I please!" I cried out, throwing my head back as he took my breast again, sucking hard before flicking it with his tongue.
Movement stirred nearby, followed by a deep voice interrupting from outside our tent. "Sir Valorik, your presence is required at the slave quarters." He ceased his assault, rising slightly. "I'll be there shortly. Ready my horse." I heard the soldier's retreating footsteps, and Valorik turned back to me, his breath warm against my face. His hand left my breast to caress my cheek, then his fingers tightened on my chin as he continued his forceful thrusts. "Do not think to idle as my future Queen. We are bound now, but our coronation is months away. I expect you to play your part well, both out there and especially in here. Do you understand, Princess?" he spat. "I promised a day, but that does not mean you will luxuriate in idleness." His tone was firm. "Nod, Princess, or say something," he demanded impatiently. "As my lord wishes, Ngh!" I strained to reply. "I was not idle in Evermere. You will see me active," I gasped, gripping his forearm as he continued his relentless thrusting. "It is assured, General!" I said breathlessly, clenching around his fingers. Finally, he withdrew his hand. I had no intention of staying here. The greater the distance between Valorik and myself, the better! He stood fully now, a smirk plastered on his face as he looked down at me. Then, he turned to leave, pausing briefly to cast one last look before departing towards the slave quarters.
--
Food was brought to me, but my appetite was nonexistent. Instead, I requested a water pouch and dressed, a servant and a soldier flanking me as I ventured out to survey the sprawling kingdom. This was truly my new domain, a melting pot of Evermerians, the servants and soldiers of Ravenmarch, Valorik's own loyal subjects from the old Kingdom of Birelle, and various other people from other neighboring Kingdoms. As I walked, I observed a hive of activity. A makeshift health center was already established, with a few individuals inside suffering from minor ailments. I passed rows of soldiers' tents; the men offered slight bows as I went by. None of them were familiar faces, so they must be Valorik's recent recruits. My eyes scanned the area until I spotted Elrick. Ugh, that soldier, I would rather avoid him.
"My Quee—Princess," he corrected himself, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. "See? I am eager to call you by your rightful title." He was trying to feign innocence, pretending he wasn't eager to be one of Valorik's favored tormentors. I shot him a glare and continued on my way. "Lanne," he greeted lowly as we passed, a lustful glint in his eyes. She offered a curt bow without looking at him. "Sir," she replied quietly and hurried off, keeping pace with me and the accompanying soldier. I wonder what that was about. Do they know each other? Not likely.
As I walked on, my eyes were drawn to a lower field where the General had set up camp alongside the slave owners and their captives. There, three figures knelt with bound hands as the General slowly paced around them. A painful knot tightened in my chest at this humiliating spectacle – my own people treated like this! Though we had slaves in Evermere, they were never Evermerians. To see our roles so brutally reversed was agonizing. We at least afforded our slaves a measure of humanity; the General's methods were appallingly cruel. My father, over time, had grown more compassionate, improving their conditions, even granting them land and livestock upon the completion of their service. Some even chose to remain in service to Evermere. He had become wise and loving. This monster had stolen all of that.
Valorik's POV.
"So," I began, my voice low and dangerous, "you believe you can slumber whenever you please? Even while performing your assigned duties?" They sat in silent fear, eyes downcast, trembling. The braided thongs of the whip tightened within my gauntleted fist. "Sleeping while on duty is a capital offense," I stated, halting before the third individual. "Please, your greatness! Have mercy!" he begged. "Evermerians showed no mercy; why should I?" I shot back. He dared to look up at me, eyes wide with disbelief. I hadn't seen this enemy before. ""I am of Evermere, yet my soul is untainted by their vile legacy! I witnessed not the horrors of King Enryhol's dark dominion, nor did I bear arms in his cursed legions!" "Silence!" I commanded, incensed by his insolence. His defiance curdled into a hateful glare. "Your alliance is with an Evermerian!" he snarled. With a swift, brutal motion, I plunged my hand into his open mouth, clamping down on his jaw as he choked, and dragging him to the whipping post, securing his wrists tightly around it.
"You!" I barked at the one in the center. His eyes snapped to mine, fear etched upon his features, anticipating my words. "Here," I commanded, thrusting the whip handle towards him. "Administer thirty lashes to your companion." He rose instantly and approached me, his hand trembling as he took the offered instrument. I seized his other hand, forcing it to grip the handle firmly. "Now, cur," I snarled, backing away slightly, "lest I bind you both to this post and flay your hides together!" His body shuddered violently as he braced himself, tears streaming down his face. He drew back the whip and the first crack echoed through the air. "AHH!" the other man shrieked. Another strike, then another. I watched with cold satisfaction. "AHH!" "GAHH!" the recipient of the lashes bellowed. I knelt before him as the blows rained down. "Tell me, wretch," I hissed, my voice low and menacing, "would you prefer this exquisite pain... or the ripping of that insolent tongue from your throat?" His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tight. "Speak, filth!" I roared. "This! I prefer... ARGH! THIS!"
I rose and stalked towards the last kneeling figure. His eyes were tightly shut, his breath ragged from witnessing the brutal spectacle. A dark stain spread on the ground beneath him. I seized a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. "Open your eyes, cur, and bear witness!" I hissed, my grip tightening on the nape of his neck as I helped him rise up from the ground. "Count! What number does he suffer now? I imagine your friend would find displeasure in a few extra strokes." Crack! Another lash landed. "S-Six! No, eight! It was eight!" he stammered, spittle flying with each word. "Count!" I commanded, jerking his head, ensuring his gaze remained fixed on the gruesome display. "Nine!" Crack! "Ten!" Crack! "Eleven!" Crack!... By the twenty-eighth strike, bile spewed from his lips. "Pathetic," I sneered down at him.
"Continue!" I snapped, my head turned just enough for him to see me from the corner of his vision. "Twenty-nine!" he choked out, a sob wracking his body. "Thirty!" I released my grip, and he collapsed into a broken heap on the ground. I approached the one who had wielded the whip and snatched it from his trembling hand, tossing it back to the slave master. "Journ," I called out to the master. "My Lord?" he responded, approaching with a deep bow. "Rise," I commanded. "Did you witness my actions? Was the lesson unclear? Now that I have demonstrated what is required, do not waste my time with such paltry displays." He bowed again, lower this time. "Thank you, my Lord. Your will is understood. I shall not fail you again."
Finally, I approached the man with the venomous tongue, now slumped and broken. I crouched, observing his wretched state: eyes sealed shut, snot bubbling from his nostrils, thick spittle clinging to his lips as he labored for breath. "You did not succumb," I noted with a hint of dark admiration. "A resilient one, aren't you?" I mused, ruffling his sweat-soaked hair. "I would leave you to rot here for a day, denied sustenance, but our stock dwindles." I rose and addressed the slave master. "Journ, cleanse this creature and deliver him to the medic for tending. Should he, or any other, be found sleeping at their post again, their head shall adorn the spike before the slave encampment." My gaze swept over the assembled captives. "HEAR ME! TO SLEEP WHILE BOUND TO AN ASSIGNED TASK, INSTEAD OF WITHIN YOUR DESIGNATED TENTS, INVITES THIRTY LASHES! A SECOND INFRACTION BRINGS ONLY DEATH! YOU OWE YOUR FRIEND HERE FOR THIS DISPLAY OF LENIENCY." With that, I stalked towards my mount, my mind already turning to other duties. Soldiers awaited my command, and the hunt called – these wretches would not feed themselves. A surge of dark anger coursed through me.