Kidnapping The Princess

[Alistair]

Alistair gave a small nod of his head when she answered, but ignored the other part when she spoke. He gave a soft groan as he pushed off from the tree and keep walking. It had not taken long to run this distance, as they both had been in a hurry when running that way. Walking back was taking more then twice as long to cover the same distance. It also meant that if Rilan was not feeling kind that it would be twice as hard to cover the distance he had plan to later.

He should have known she would run. That it was tonight and not tomorrow. He should have not let her go into Rilan's home. He should not have trusted her to leave his side. He thought back to her first escape attempt by the river. She had pulled the chain mail over his head and ran. She had temped him with her touches before hand. She had used the same method this time! He had not learned a damn thing! She just took her time and planed her hand well.

He had thought there was something between them, that whatever it was would hurt them both in the end. She had only been pretending? Was she really that cold? He had wondered that before. She spoke of ordering Mae's death, and he had wanted to hit her. It seemed nothing was above her. She would do anything. Say anything.

And yet, he still could not summon the emotion to truly hate her. He shook his head with disgust at himself, yeah he was really an idiot.

[isadora]

She could only wonder what he thought of her; she'd used their attachment to trick him. Never mind that she was only here because he had tricked her. He must think she'd lied about everything, that she was so cold and indifferent that she could calmly play him like an instrument. She could lie when she needed to; but she would never use someone's emotions like that. But she had. She'd known the only way to make him drink the sleeping potion was to kiss him, and she knew he would let her, because he trusted her, because he felt something for her. And she'd turned it on him. She'd told herself before that she'd feel bad about it later; now was that later.

She wanted to apologize, but she had a feeling he wouldn't believe it; if he did, he was an idiot. She'd lied to him too many times, he shouldn't believe a thing she told him, especially anything that might repair their damaged trust. He'd assume anything she said was merely an attempt to win his trust again, so she could break it in yet another fruitless attempt to escape. So she kept her silence as they walked slowly back to the camp, painful though it was not to even try and explain herself. He wouldn't understand, and even if he could, he wouldn't want to hear it.

[/size]

[Alistair]

Alistair stopped walking again for a long moment. They were not far from the village now, but he wanted all his strength for the coming conversation with Rilan. So he planned to just wait until he could walk in there and pretend it was minor. He was, minor but fresh wounds always hurt. Plus he had not bandaged it, and he was still bleeding. He could have asked Vaughn for help, but Alistair's pride was already at an all time low right now. He had not wanted to add something else to it, by asking for help.

Starting off again, he held onto her bound hands tighter. Not from fear of her leaving but from the pain in his shoulder. Some men might be able to pretend such things did not hurt, and keep fighting along with it, but Alistair was not one of them types. He rarely was injured in a fight, for he was quick and smart enough to avoid getting hit.

Entering the clearing, he noticed Rilan was standing by the fire. The bucket they had left by the river was with him along with a worried looking Mae. She had Mae wrapped around her to.

No. They were not staying. She was dangerous to them. Rilan and Marc started walking to meet them, with Mae following a few steps behind. "Go to your brothers, Mae." Alistair called out to her, and then Rilan turned to say something to her. Mae ran off, giving them all a worried look. Especially at the princess' bound hands. When they were closer, Alistair spoke in a lower voice. "We were attacked." He said, not telling them the story behind it, "Can you fix this?"

Rilan looked at his blood soaked shoulder and spoke, "I warned you." Alistair knew this would come. "We had a deal, that did not include your warnings." Rilan's shoulders tensed up, "Nor did it include my healing." Alistair had expected as much, both men's pride were involved and Alistair was not about to beg the man.

[isadora]

She fretted over Alistair's injury, hoping that once they got back to the camp, Rilan would be willing to fix it. He had been willing to heal her earlier, but that had been in exchange for help from Alistair's visions. As far as she knew, they hadn't done anything more to warrant more aid. But...these people regarded Alistair as one of them, didn't they? Earlier they had judged him for his involvement with Isadora, so they must feel some attachment to him, even if they didn't approve of his choices. He'd heal him, right?

As they entered the camp, Isadora noticed the grave looks on everyone's faces; she especially noted how Mae looked, as she saw Alistair tow her into the camp, hands bound in front of her. She couldn't reassure the little girl, couldn't even force a smile to make her feel better; besides, what plausible reason could there be for having her bound? The only possibility was that she would run, but Mae had no reason to believe Isadora wanted to run...unless she started to believe Alistair's story about her being a fairy princess.

She listened to the exchange between the men, not believing what she was hearing. He was hurt! How could Rilan not help?! Alistair had made sure they weren't robbed today, even if Rilan didn't appreciate the trade, he could appreciate the fact that his family still lived. Yet Rilan didn't appear inclined to heal the injury, minor as it was. Alistair wouldn't beg either...Isadora had her own pride, but if she couldn't put it aside for this, what good was she? "Please? It was my fault, not his." Small wonder, given that she was bound again. She didn't even know if her pleading would help his case or hurt it in the druid's eyes, but she had to try.

[/size]

[Alistair]

Alistair was about to speak before he heard her speak up. He turned his head and shot a glare down at her before looking back at Rilan. "We're leaving." He walked around them, and pulled her along thought not forcefully. He lacked the will to deal with the pain of jerking her along. At the tent he reached in and pulled out his bag.

Marc followed along. "You should not go alone. You should stay." Alistair looked over at him while slowly looping the bag over his uninjured side, his injured shoulder burning in protest of moving. "I can not." He would not stay here, giving her more ways to trick and use him. Alone he could watch her, and do things he could not to around children. "I can not travel with you, my ribs are still broken from Pendragon's men." Alistair gave him a shrug and was about to reach over to start dragging her again when Marc offered up a leather pouch, "It's not much, but it will help you close the wound." Alistair looked at it a moment before taking it. "I wish you better luck then I had in your travels."

It was a good bye. Marc gave a nod in return, ignoring the princess. Alistair looked over at her and pulled on her hands. "Say goodbye to the easy life, for the next two days you're going to wish you were back here." He promised her, and the pulled on her hands to make her start walking. He was not going to go easy on her, not after last night.

[isadora]

To her surprise, it wasn't Rilan who shot her down, but Alistair himself. She frowned, she understood why he didn't like her, but to punish himself? It was ridiculous! And now they were leaving...he supposed it would be easier for him to keep her tied up all the time if he didn't have to worry about Mae bothering him about why she was tied up. She followed along as he pulled her, not wanting to start a fight even though she thought he was being ludicrous. She just wanted him to not be in pain anymore, why did he have to believe she had an ulterior motive?

She watched the exchange between Alistair and the other man as an outsider, feeling uncomfortable witnessing this, but unable to walk away from it. She stood awkwardly off to the side, wishing Alistair would listen to the other man. He needed to heal, and he'd be able to do that better if he was less concerned with keeping her hostage. But how could she assure him she wouldn't run off again until he was well again? He'd never believe a thing she said. She sighed when he finally spoke to her, wishing she could take back what she'd done, and knowing she couldn't. She didn't speak, he only seemed to be reminded how angry he was with her when she spoke.

[/size]

[Alistair]

Alistair lead them out of the clearing, and in a different way then they had gone before. The ground started off flat and grassy but the deep they got into the woods the more the silence grew between them and the rockier the ground got. And the steeper. The soft hills of Camelot slowly turned into the climbs of the mountains.

She might not know it, but they were still following the river, just far enough back from it, that she would not be able to see it. The river would turn and curve and cross in front of them in a few miles, and that would be were they'd camp for the night. With no tent, and nothing comfortable to rest on.

He stopped at one point, and leaned on a tree. The sounds of the river just now reaching them. He was sweating from the effort to keep walking. He knew he would have to bandage it soon. He pushed off the tree, and lead them the rest of the way to the river. There it was beautiful. A slight drop in the hill created a waterfall, and a large pool of water below. It was clear, and you could see the stars reflected back at you. "We camp here for the night."

[isadora]

She followed him wordlessly, silently struggling with the rockier terrain as he persisted in silence. She had no idea where they were headed, and she knew she'd never manage to find her way back to camp on her own. A persistent voice in the back of her mind told her that running now was inadvisable, before she squashed that voice down; she wasn't planning on running at all anymore. She didn't think Alistair would kill her, or even hurt her, and after what had happened not so long ago, she was more worried what would happen to her if he weren't around to protect her; even injured like he was.

She was breathing hard by the time they paused, and she wondered how he was managing the hard trip with his injury. He should've let her, or someone, anyone really, bandage it while they were still at the camp. She didn't like the thought of letting it fester, uncleaned, but he wouldn't listen to her. It was infuriating! She only wanted to help him, and he suspected she was up to no good. She might deserve it, but that didn't serve to keep her temper from rising. It didn't help that he looked terrible, and wouldn't stop long enough for a proper rest to recover his strength.

She let her gaze wander from him as they reached their destination, startled by the beauty of the place. The moon and the stars reflecting off the water lit up the area, letting her be appropriately awed by the waterfall and the surrounding area. It was really beautiful, and apparently, they were staying here tonight. Once she was done being awed, she looked back at him and raised an eyebrow, looking from his face to his shoulder pointedly, wordlessly asking if he was going to see to his injury at last? Since whenever she spoke lately it only seemed to aggravate him.

[/size]

[Alistair]

He saw he look at his and then his bleeding shoulder and he shook his head slowly. "There is no need pretend you care out here." He sneered out before walking closer to the water. If she ran out here, there was no were to go. Not more miles and miles. These were dangerous too, known for all sorts of dangers. He was not going to warn her however. He was done warning her.

He sat down by a rock near the water's edge and then slowly slipped off his shirt. The pain alone made him groan and move in jerks. Stopping and starting as the pain shoot like a knife (no pun meant) down his back. When it was off, he sat there for a long moment. Resting before trying to look over his shoulder at the wound.

He never should have turned his back on the man. He had saw that knife at her neck and not given the fallen man another thought. His mistake almost cost him his life. Vaughn had stepped up; something Alistair had not seen coming. After the almost rape of the princess, Alistair had thought they would cut ties, but Vaughn could not be completely dark and evil if he was willing to save his life.

[isadora]

Her eyes narrowed at his sneer. He thought she was pretending, of course. Because everything she'd said and done so far was a lie, right? He was overestimating her ability as an actress. She hesitated a moment before she followed him to the river's edge, watching anxiously from as close as she dared to get. She wanted to help him with his shirt, but she had a feeling her help wasn't going to be welcome. She bit her lip and watched, wincing when he jerked awkwardly and groaned as he tried to pull his shirt off. Why couldn't he just let her help?!

She felt so useless, just sitting by the water's edge, unable to do anything to help him. He wouldn't let her touch him, though, for fear that she would try something again. So instead she picked up his shirt after he dropped it carelessly off to the side, kneeling next to the water and rinsing the still wet blood from it. It was awkward, with her hands still bound, and if she slipped and fell she'd probably drown, but it was just a little thing she could do to help. Besides, she had all that experience scrubbing clothes now, she might as well put it to good use.

Cleaning the blood stains from his shirt was a good distraction, but she couldn't keep from glancing up at him with worry every minute or so, more often when she heard him make an involuntary noise as he tried to tend his own wound. Did he realize how stupid it was to try and see to an injury on his back by himself? Once she'd gotten the blood off his shirt, she laid it out on a large rock, sitting back and looking at him. "Just let me help you. If I try anything again you can...drown me in the river, or something."

[/size]

[Alistair]

When she came closer he watched her for a moment, not moving as if he had expected her to attack him or something. He however ignored her after she only picked up his shirt. He held his arm close to his chest, so the muscles did not have to stretch.

"You'll be lucky if I can refrain my self from doing it anyway." He growled out to her, after he offer of help. He knew however he could not bandage it himself. "Bind it. Do nothing else." Not clean it, not try to sew it shut. He did not trust her, she had drugged him!

He didn't want her kindness after she betrayed him. It was to hard to keep a clear head around her. He pulled a smaller knife from his bag and used it to motion for her to come closer so he could cut the rope that bound her hands. He however was NOT giving her a knife this time.

[isadora]

Isadora rolled her eyes when he threatened to drown her anyways, if she did believe he would do it, she certainly didn't seem to fear it. She was surprised when he finally agreed to let her help, in a limited capacity, but help nonetheless. He must have realized the folly of trying to do it himself, because it didn't sound like he suddenly trusted her again. She nodded, wishing he'd let her clean it out before wrapping it, but he was being stubborn and she didn't think arguing would get her very far.

She approached him when he gestured her forward, unafraid of the knife in his hand. She may have lost his trust, but he had hers, which was a curious reversal. She held her wrists up so he could cut the binding, grateful to have her hands free. She looked to him for permission, then opened the bag and looked through it for bandages, finding them quickly.

She knelt next to him and carefully started wrapping the clean linen strips around his shoulder, gently lifting his arm, then wrapping it around his chest to make sure it was securely in place. She knew how to wrap a wound, on the few occasions when Caerleon had been attacked, she'd helped see to the knights' injuries. When she was finished, she stepped back to give him the space he probably wanted.

[/size]

[Alistair]

He sat there silently, letting her wrap it. He had half expected her to attack him, but she only did ass he said she would. She wrapped it, nice and tight in order to keep it from moving and then stepped back. At lest she was smart enough to give him space. If she had tired any of the soft girl stuff again,he might have wrapped his hands around her neck and . . .

Done nothing. He shook his head in disgust. She'd ruined him. Before he could hate her, think about killing her to beating her. Now he just was full of rage and could not even enjoy the thoughts of choking the life of her. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

He put the knife in his boot, and then tossed the bag at her. "Sleep. Your going to need it." He leaned back against the rock and just stared at the water. He knew she should bind her up, so she could not run away but he was to tired to try. There were sounds coming from the trees which grew darker the later the night grew. Besides, he was not close to falling asleep.

[isadora]

Isadora watched him, uncertain what he was thinking. She hadn't taken the opportunity to attack him, as he probably thought she would, or to run away. So what would he think of that? She caught the bag when he threw it at her, wondering if he was going to sleep too. She wasn't thinking about running away anymore, and he should rest, seeing as he was injured. But again...he had that stubborn gleam in his eyes. He didn't trust her not to take any opportunity to run away, and he wasn't going to listen if she tried to convince him.

Taking the folded and rolled blanket out of the bag, she shook it out and covered herself, laying down on the hard ground, suddenly grateful for the softness of his hard sleeping mat from the other night. Curling onto her side, she used her arm as a pillow, letting her eyes flicker up to watch him every few seconds as her eyes drifted closed. She would have thought she wouldn't be able to sleep on such a hard surface, but she was so tired that it didn't seem to matter. It took only a few moments for her to drift off into slumber.

[/size]

[Alistair]

He sat there silently, watching her sleep. It was odd to find watching her peaceful when he wanted to hate her so badly. She played him, drugged him, embarrassed him before the only constant person in his life, and made him start thinking about how lonely his life was. There had not been many women in his past but none of them made him think or feel like she did. He wanted to shake her for that alone.

The burning in his shoulder was growing worse. Now it felt like his whole back was on fire more then just the wound. He head felt like it would split into. He knew he should try to get in the water and rinse it out but he could not summon the will to move. He would have blamed the drug (and her) had he not been . . . Been . . .

Alistair sat there trying to recall what he had been thinking. What had he been? He knew the headache and burning were not good signs. He forced him self to stand, removed his boots and stumble into the water. However his wound was bandaged so he could not get to it to clean. Groaning in annoyance he did his best to removed her hard work. After more work then he,d like he walked back to shore and laid face down on the ground. He should have tied her up, she could run while he was sleeping. The next few hours were going to be hell. . .

[isadora]

It wasn't yet morning when she awoke, the sky still dark. She rubbed her eyes, she wasn't sure why, but she had the strangest sense that something was wrong, and she propped herself up on her elbows, looking around blearily. That was when she saw him. She sat upright when she saw Alistair face down on the ground, fear shooting through her involuntarily, and she threw off the blanket, crawling over to him, fearing the worst. She breathed a sigh of relief when she placed a hand on him, and he was still breathing, and warm...too warm. She swore. He had a fever.

"Alistair?" His bandages had been torn off, and what still clung to him were sodden and bloody, and so were his clothes. He'd gotten into the river...? He was lucky he hadn't drowned himself! She peeled the rest of the ruined bandages away, maybe if she could dry them out they'd be useful again, but for now, they were in her way. She examined the wound, and it was exactly as she'd feared...it was red and inflamed, having been let to fester for much too long. Infected. She frowned worriedly, she should have insisted more that he let someone fix it!

She put aside her personal guilt for now, it might be a worthless effort now, but she had to clean his injury. At least he was too weak to argue with her now. She needed something to clean it with, and after looking through the bag fruitlessly, she took the knife from his boot and used it to cut off her sleeve. She soaked it in the river water, then carefully started cleaning the festering wound. "I told you to let me clean it...now see what's happened." She muttered, speaking more to herself than to him; she didn't even know if he could hear her as she worked.

[/size]

[Alistair]

Alistair was not so deep into his fever that he could hear. At lest not just yet. Had he been left there, as he almost had expected to be, he'd have to make the trip to the village for help. IF he made it, he'd have to hope they could help. Rilan could heal wounds but not bring people back from death. Then, IF he lived he'd have to set out tracking her back down.

However he felt her hands on him, and he began to awaken slightly. What was she doing? By the time he had slowly drug his mind out of the feverish dream he heard her muttering at him. "I can't be dead. An Angel wouldn't nag me." He opened his eyes for a moment, to look at her before closing then again. "Unless am in hell."

His body went loose under her hands as he slipped into the fever again. He did not have a vision while there, but he did dream. It was not unknown, nor events to come that he saw it was the past. The kings men, riding up to the home, taking his mother. Her screams. Alistair, a ten year old boy, being dragged out the back door by his uncle. Alistair tried to fight them, so he go go to his mother . . . Not knowing he was dream, he grabbed the princess' hand in a busing grip. "NO! Let me go!"

[isadora]

She was so caught up in trying to clean his injury she almost didn't notice that his eyes were open, and he was speaking to her. She would've smiled when he compared her to an angel if she weren't so worried, but she screwed her face up when he turned that entirely around. "Devils aren't so pretty." She responded indignantly, finally satisfied that she'd done her best to wipe out his injury. She found a cup in the bag, and rinsing her sleeve off and filling it up, she poured the contents over the injury to wash away anything she'd missed.

He drifted off again as she found the leather pouch he had been given by the other man before they'd left camp, she'd have to trust that it would help, and she applied a generous amount over the wound. Finding some more bandages, she re-wrapped the injury, hoping he wouldn't feel the need to go for a swim again. She was just finishing when Alistair jerked into motion, her eyes going wide as she felt his hand clamp around hers like a vice. She tried to pull it away, but his hold was too strong, and she looked at his face as he yelled at her.

He was delirious. She took a deep breath, forcing her hand to relax in his grip. "Shhh, Alistair, it's okay," she spoke softly, reassuringly, trying to calm him down even in the midst of his delirium. With her free hand, she ran her fingers along his forehead and down his cheek soothingly, unnerved by how warm he was. She continued her litany of soft shushing noises and sweet, simple reassurances, hoping her voice would help keep him from whatever it was he was seeing.

[/size]

[Alistair]

Alistair felt the calming touch against his cheek and neck, but his mind was still in the past. With combination of the turmeric event and then voice soothing him was an odd mixture of turmoil and peace. He relaxed his grip on her arm, but did not let her go completely. "They'll kill her." He muttered softly, in a broken tone of a child rather then the strong voice he had as a man.

His breathing was ragged, as the fever held him in his mind but with her voice he seemed to calm. Part of him knew it was her, and embraced it. The other part of him, told himself it was not her. He was dreaming her. That she had left him. It made more since. Why would she stay?

He could still feel the pressure of his uncles hands on him, dragging him tot he woods were they would disappear. Were his life would go from simple, to what it was today. However, in this moment he stopped fighting. He wasn't sure if had had lost the will to fight, but with the comforting voice speaking to him, he was willing to let it happen rather then fight it off.

[isadora]

She didn't know what he was talking about, but given the broken up tone of his voice, she had a guess; it was his mother. The way he'd spoken about her death earlier, she doubted he'd ever really gotten over it, and she would guess that it was often the subject of nightmares for him; when his nightmares weren't real. Stroking the back of his hand with her thumb softly, she moved so that she could rest his head in her lap, folding her still-damp sleeve to place it on his forehead.

"Shh, hush now," she couldn't tell him everything would be okay when it most certainly wouldn't; he'd wake, and his mother would still be gone, even if he didn't remember dreaming about it. She still remembered how much it had bothered her when her mother had died, and it hadn't even been a violent death. She had wasted away slowly, getting worse over time, just like what was happening to her father now, and just like what could happen to Alistair. She frowned, trying not to think about that; Alistair wasn't going to die. He would get better, he had to.

Still holding his hand, she put her other hand on his cheek, softly stroking his jawline. She didn't know if she was helping any, but his breathing seemed calmer since she'd started doing this. She knew she ought to be running by now; he was out, if she went now, she could almost certainly get away; but then he'd probably die out here, all alone with no one to care for him, and that was too much for her to even consider. He had saved her...but her reasons for staying were more than reciprocity. She'd never forgive herself if she left him out here to die.

[/size]