Fate 03

Lenneth Side (Rage)

She screamed, loud and full of fury, a wail of heated rage that echoed off the stone and bounced back to her. Lenneth didn’t even pause, keeping her mouth open as she shouted, shrill screams that surely reached the necromancer’s ears. But he did not appear, leaving her to wail and gnash her teeth together, Lenneth banging her fists on the walls, over and over until her knuckles were bruised and bloody, making her eyes sting with tears at the pain she felt.

One more scream, a harder throw of her right fist, hearing something crunch in her hand as delicate flesh met stone hard wall. She let out a whimper, Lenneth falling back from the stone, clutching her injured hand to her chest, weeping bitterly. This body was weak, she kept forgetting that, doing foolish things that only hurt her, leaving her vulnerable to the necromancer.

Still cradling her hand, seeing drops of blood fall onto her white skirt, she began pacing like a caged lioness. Walking in circles around the room, moving tirelessly, unable to sit still for even a moment. Occasionally she looked at the bed, and a flash of white hot fury filled her, the scream building up deep inside her as she remembered what happened there. What continued to happen, night after night.

Her cheeks burned with shame as the memories came unbidden to her, Lenneth slowing to a stop as she stared at the bed. A subtle shudder wracked through her body, Lenneth recalling the feel of his hands on her, the predatory look in his eyes, and the way his lips had twisted into a leer. He hurt her, hurt her in a way that swords and spells could not hope to duplicate, a pain that could not compare to the dull throbbing in her fist. Yes, her body hurt, but more than that, her soul hurt.

It hurt in so many ways, she didn’t even know where to begin, where to start pinpointing the offenses done to her. As loathsome as his actions were, there was others to blame for the pain her soul was going through. It all came back to the meadow, to the moment when the seal on her memories, on her emotions had cracked open. The chinks in the shield around the seal could not hold back the rush of memories that assaulted her, flashes of the lives she had slept through passing before her eyes. Too fast and too sudden, the knowledge too much to take in, leaving her staggering for an anchor.

HE became just that, Lenneth finding a face hidden among the memories, younger but still familiar with pale blond hair and baby blue eyes. Lucian. For a second she felt calm viewing glimpses of the life she had had with him, and then everything shattered, Lenneth screaming as she remembered he was dead. She was calling out his name, pain in her heart at the way she had talked to him, two of her einherjar watching on in shock at her display of tantrum.

It didn’t matter that they saw her act this way, nothing mattered except that she had been lied to all her existence. Even as that thought worked it’s way into her mind, Lenneth feeling anger at Odin for having done this to her, a new pain assaulted her. Her back had arched in pained shock, head snapping back, a hard jolt through her core. Waves of electricity rode up and down her body, causing her mouth to open as she let out a cry.

She could remember how it hurt to be forced out of her body, recalled watching in stunned horror how her body became less voluptuous, her hair darkening to ebony and shortening in length. It was her sister she stared at, the Dark Valkyrie turning cold eyes on the gathered einherjar. A cruel smile lit up her features, even as she raised a hand, intent on destroying the pair of spirits. Lenneth could not allow this to happen, and she jumped to their defense, feeling the blast tear her apart.

That should have been the end of her, and yet circumstance had seen to her salvation. Such as it were, Lenneth thought with a bitter smile. She inwardly snarled, resuming her pacing, thinking back to what had roused her from her forced slumber. She had felt it when her einherjar began to die, felt it down to the very roots of her soul, making her gasp and awaken. She had been startled to find herself all alone in her head, their voices silent, their comforting presence gone for good. She despaired at the loneliness she felt at having them taken from her, but before she could give in to the grief the disgusting necromancer had joined her in the bed.

He struck while she was disorientated, her soul not yet properly settled into this new body of hers. She could barely understand what was happening as her arms refused to obey her commands. He offered no reassurances to her, hands all over her, making her squirm, tremble like a little girl in her suppressed rage. It would be some time before he explained to her what he had done, her horror palpable to learn her soul was imprisoned in one of the bodies he had crafted in her likeness. Mortal! He had rendered her mortal, sealing away her divinity, capturing her in a cage that was secure and inescapable.

Lenneth opened her mouth and screamed again, her good hand hugging across her chest, fingers digging into her arm. Her nails left little half moon shell cuts on her skin, tiny spots of blood welling up to the surface of her flesh. She barely felt it, it was simply too easy to numb herself to physical pain, even as she waged an internal war with the torments of her mind and soul.

Again she was moving, that aimless walk that took her all over the bedroom, Lenneth pausing occasionally to lash out with her foot, kicking aside pillows and bits of furniture. She overturned tables and chairs with her good hand, rallying a steady stream of curses, unable to stop herself. She stubbed her toe against an overstuffed chair, wincing back the pain. And still she didn’t stop her tantrum, destroying the room, ripping curtains down from the windows, yanking on the material of the bed’s canopy, leaving herself in a panting, red faced state.

It felt good to be able to do something, to keep this hated body moving. Sometimes she feared it would stop, that she would end up in a doll like state very much like the one she had suffered through upon first awakening. The necromancer assured her that wouldn’t be the case, but she doubted his words. This was an unchartered foray into something new, something untested, sealing her soul into this body. She didn’t want to go back to being dependent on him for even the simplest things, snarling as she recalled how her hands had been unable to push him away, fingers unable to grip a fork, legs unwilling to move her. He had seen to moving her about, carrying her here and there as easily as a lifeless doll, seeing to feeding her, bathing and grooming her.

He had pampered her, and that had left her feeling all the more wretched, even as the necromancer swung from one mood to the next. Sometimes he was the cultured gentleman, speaking pleasantly to her, but that was a lie. A facade that could break at any moment, revealing the lecherous beast that he truly was. She tried not to dwell on it, even as hate and disgust fueled her anger, goading her on to do more damage to herself and the room.

She was caught in mid scream, flinging a vase of flowers at the far wall, listening to the satisfying crunch of broken glass when he entered the room. The necromancer merely quirked an eyebrow, looking amused as he took in the damage she had done. With a wave of his hands, magical energy settling in over the room in pulsating waves, all was restored to pristine, immaculate states.

Lenneth glared at him, hating him with every fiber of her being, watching as he stalked towards her. She forced herself to be still, knowing he would laugh to see her backing away from him, knowing in the end it wouldn’t matter. He would give chase, and he would catch her, flinging her onto the bed, or taking her against the wall.

She narrowed her eyes at him, hearing her breath huff out of her in an angry sigh, her expression goading, daring him to do his worse. He reached her, arms going to envelope her sides, and she lost it, rearing back to strike him. The necromancer easily caught her hand, and did a double take, seeing the blood smeared on the back of it. He made a grab for her injured fist, Lenneth letting out a pain filled cry as he touched it.

He sighed and tsked, gently working her fist open, Lenneth finding her eyes filling with water as her fingers screamed in protest. She had broken something when she hit the wall, and his fingers tenderly felt up her hand, the necromancer frowning in displeasure. No magic words could fix her, his spells couldn’t heal the damage she had done to herself, leaving him to tend to her injuries the old fashion way.

He made a splint for her hand, using silk to tie her fingers to it. He dabbed water on her hands, washing away the blood, shaking his head at the bruises. In this he was gentle and kind, and Lenneth watched him wordlessly, waiting for him to show his true nature. He did not disappoint her for long, pulling her onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. She screamed in his face, pushing at him with her good hand, and in act of cruelty he caught hold of her injured one, squeezing down hard enough to make her whimper. The message was clear. Obey him or else.

The problem was Lenneth couldn’t see herself giving in without a fight, twisting and turning in his arms, struggling to get away. She only succeeded in exciting him more, the necromancer easily holding her on his lap, letting go of her hand to grope a generous handful of her breast. It still made her gasp when he did that, shocked embarrassment coloring her features as she felt him fondling her bosom.

Her struggles increased, voice stifled when he kissed her, the necromancer not yet brave enough to stick his tongue in her mouth. He knew she’d bite him if he did, and in that area alone was he cautious, seeming a coward when it came to his personal pain. He kissed all over her face, whispering words of seduction to her, telling her she was beautiful and that he loved her. She snorted in reply, thinking he had no love, only twisted obsession, letting her lips curl back in a snarl as she hissed at him.

Nothing put him off, not demands, nor pleads, not even outright screaming, Lenneth feeling anger eat away at her as he pulled at her dress. When he sank into her, her vision flashed red, hearing a loud howl of pure despair. It was, she realized with a start, her voice that had made that sound, Lenneth sagging in his embrace, half falling off of his lap as she let the new emotion over take her. It destroyed everything in her, stole the fight from her, silenced her voice. She stared dully into the necromancer’s eyes, knowing he could see the transformation in her, hearing him laugh in glee as she became victim to the pleasure he forced on her.