Match Made In Hell

[Vortigern]

-------There it was. At last. She had said the word please; the magic word. Vortigern cared not for politeness (obviously) it was the desperation that she spoke with that he wanted to hear. A clear distinction of the hierarchy of power; showing that he was her superior in all ways. And she had dare not defy him ever again. If she had been in Sorelia, she would have been dead long ago. He longed for the day she found herself in his kingdom. He would not be so merciful then. Making the last few seconds the most painful by twisting her arm even more, he then shoved her to the ground, releasing his physical hold on her. "Now you can cry. And whimper," he said without an ounce of sympathy in him. He was not the kind of man who's heart ached at the sight of a woman crying.

-------What chivalry was in him? None. None whatsoever. In fact, he was the kind of man who would often make them cry. Just like this little creature in front of him. "You think you are able to get away with the words you say and the things you do, but you are not. Know that no one crosses Prince Vortigern of Sorelia and gets away with it. Not even a conniving little loose harlot like yourself!" He was angry; infuriated with her. And he was going to make damn well sure that she knew it. She had first drugged him, seduced him, and now defied him. A master at her trade of such things... but not one who was victorious. For Vortigern would not stop, until they reached an understanding. Or in other words: until he got his way.

[Caitrin de Archer]

The pain was starting to throb through Caitrin, and she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take. Tears were burning down her cheeks, though it hurt more to think she was crying because of Vortigern, rather than what he was doing. She let out a sharp cry as Vortigern twisted her arm and released her to the ground. Her arm naturally found a more comfortable position, and she cradled it with her other arm. At least it wasn’t broken, but that was of little consolation at the moment. Caitrin was still sobbing from the pain, though as she looked up at the man, all she could feel was hatred. She hated him for what he was, and what he had caused her to become. His words meant nothing to her, as nothing could add to her agony. She felt like she had already hit rock bottom now, there was nothing left for Vortigern to take from her.

As he insulted her again, she stood up, her tears still fresh in her eyes. What was the point in trying to hide them now? It wasn’t as if she was trying to protect her honour or her pride anymore. She faced up to Vortigern, using the courage she could muster, as her words formed upon her lips. “I pity the people you will one day rule over, if this is how you treat those who stand up to you.” To her this man was nothing but a bully who hadn’t got his own way straight away, and this was his way of reinforcing it. She was still holding her arm, as though it had not broke it was still incredibly painful and throbbed out at her. Caitrin had no intention of apologising or making peace with the man, and as long as he knew that then everything would be clear between them. “You are nothing but a spoilt, horrible little man.”