Kidnapping The Princess

[Alistair]

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Alistair looked over to stare at her for a moment after she spoke before looking back down at the fish he was consuming and shaking his head. He was not against large cities, but he did think that kings had to much power for one man. The same went for princesses. They were to busy running other people's lives to worry about learning real skills.

He had looked up when Mae laughed and knew that duo wasn't a good one. He glanced over to Mae's father who only gave a worried shrug. Mae was impressionable and the princess was trouble in a dress. Alistair leaned closer to the princess and made sure to speak where no one else could hear, "You should remember her face, you might attend her beheading one day." he paused to let that sink in before speaking again, lower "You might have already attended her mother's."

He did not know the details of Mae's mother's death, only that she had been killed by the king for being a druid who practiced magic. He did not care at the moment that he was putting images in her head, nor being cruel. He just wanted to make sure she was aware of the this world. Maybe that was what he should do with her. Make her live the life of a druid. Let her see how they live in fear everyday. He grinned to himself at the thought of her fetching water from the river, and wearing clothing rough on her skin, and cleaning her own room. Yes, that would what he would do with her.

[Page Four! YEAH!]

[isadora]

No matter how much Alistair disapproved of royalty in general, Isadora wouldn't agree that they were unnecessary. Someone had to hold power, or else there would be chaos. Having royals in charge allowed there to be laws that protected the weak from the strong, it allowed people to pursue the arts instead of having to scrounge to feed themselves and their families their whole lives, it maintained order in a land that would otherwise be beholden to warlords and bandits, with everyone living in fear. She provided security to her people, and no matter how anyone viewed her, that would always be important to her.

Her back stiffened when he mentioned the girl might be beheaded, just like her mothers, and for a moment she did feel remorse, but only for a moment. "Maybe I'll even order it." She said impassively, looking him in the eye with a steely glint in her eyes. "If she chooses to practice magic, then yes, that will likely be her fate. Unfortunate, but those who choose evil cannot be allowed to hurt others. I owe my people protection and I cannot let something so dangerous go unchecked."

Could magic be used for good? Not that Isadora was aware of, in the convent she'd always learned that witchcraft existed through a compact with the devil, making it inherently evil. That was common knowledge. "If she admits her sins and commits to reform, however, she does not need to die." Isadora wasn't as cold as Uther; those who used magic to commit a heinous act, like murder, would die, as would anyone guilty of the same crime. But those who performed minor infractions were always given a chance to forsake magic, usually under the guidance of the church.

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[Alistair]

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Alistair turned his head to stare at her very slowly. Other then that he was very still, and very angry. Had she'd been a men he'd have killed her for the word spoken. Honestly, in this moment he feared he still might. His hands nearly shook with the effort it took to not reach over and smack her. He thought about grabbing her arm and violently dragging her to the woods so he say the words he wanted her to hear, but he was afraid that if he was alone with her that he would do her harm..

Standing slow, he stood there above her for a moment and thought about smacking her then but walked away before he gave into the impulse. He did not go far as he did not trust her but he had to walk away. He called her all sorts of harsh names in his head while standing there with his back to her. He almost hoped she try to run away right now. Give him a reason to but his hands on her soft little neck and shake her.

After a few long moments he turned and started back for the fire, "Mae, my guest have volunteered to do all your chores today so you can play." He told the child, while giving the princess and angry glare, "and tomorrow as well." He no longer cared what she might learn from this, in this moment he hoped her hands were blistered and body bruised by the end of the day.

[isadora]

It was obvious that her words had upset him; it was also obvious that calling him merely 'upset' was an understatement. Isadora didn't like how cold she could be, that she could calmly say that one day, she may have to order the execution of a beautiful young girl, without so much as blinking, yet it was the way she had to be. She tried to be as forgiving of her subjects as she could, but somewhere, you had to draw a line, and someone had to decide what was too much and put a stop to it. She love for that someone to be someone else, to let her be a regular girl whose biggest worry was getting her chores done, but she wasn't that girl. Isadora had to be cold and decisive, she had to make heart-wrenching decisions and she had to have conviction towards her actions, even if she doubted or regretted them, she could never show that to her subjects.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he walked away; what had he expected? She didn't only support the laws, she ensured they were carried out. She had never once heard of magic being used for anything but evil, even if these people weren't inherently evil, they chose a path that would invariably lead to destruction. Isadora wouldn't execute them for that, God forgive her, but if they posed a threat to her people in any way, she wouldn't hesitate. She couldn't afford to. People relied on her, her judgment had to keep them safe, she couldn't let them down.

She was surprised when he didn't respond to her, but addressed the child instead, looking up at Alistair with a raised brow. Then she looked to Mae and smiled warmly. "Be sure to have lots of fun for me." She said when the girl gave her a wide-eyed look, to confirm what Alistair had said. She could've argued or complained, but she doubted that would change his mind, and she wasn't going to blame a child for his ill manner. She wasn't looking forward to it, of course, but she didn't see the point in trying to change his mind. He'd already made up his mind about her; she was a spoiled princess. She saw no point in trying to reason with him.

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[Alistair]

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Alistair watched as Mae smiled brightly at the idea of having the day free to be a kid. He wondered if Mae had ever really had a day just to play before. He wasn't going to make a big deal of it around the kid. "Thanks you, Thank you, Thank you!!" she told the princess and then got up to run over to the other kids who were playing on the other side of the small clearing.

He did not look at the spoiled little princess for a long time. He would let her get some of the food in her mouth before he started ruining her day. Then again, why should he wait. She wanted to behead little girl, he could ruin her day.

Getting up he walked over the house and got the large bucket. Mae's job was to bring in water for everyone. She made three or four trips to the river daily, so everyone could have water and she could do the water, and then there was bath water for everyone. He wasn't sure if the princess would make it one trip, much less the day.

"Princess," He said once he was close enough to her, "Lets see if you can keep up with the little druid girl." and with that he shoved the bucket in her lap, not caring if he knocked her plate over or if she was done or not.

[isadora]

At fourteen, Mae wasn't much of a child anymore, but Isadora saw no reason not to enjoy what little childhood she might have left. Since Alistair was still pouting on the other side of the clearing, Isadora supposed she ought to eat while she had the chance; now that he was cross with her, she expected he'd probably withhold food or water from her for the rest of her stay here. She ate her share of the fish quickly, careful with the little bones. She didn't want anyone to get upset if she choked and died, after all.

When Alistair pushed the bucket at her unexpectedly, her plate did fall to the ground, but she only sighed resignedly, picking up the rim of the bucket with one hand and pushing herself off the ground with the other. "From the river, I assume? Which way?" She hadn't even been conscious when they'd arrived in the camp, so she had no idea which way it was to get back to the river. She didn't think these people would be invested enough in their camp to go to the trouble of sinking a well, but they couldn't be near an open waterway for fear of being discovered. So the river they'd come from was the only logical place.

"And you can stop calling me that. I get the point, already." Since he had specifically asked her to keep her identity a secret, Isadora could only assume that the only reason he continued to address her by her title rather than her name was to insult her. While she didn't consider it an insult, he obviously did, and it was starting to grate on her nerves, especially since he'd specifically asked her for her name last night.

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[Alistair]

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Alistair wanted to shake her. She was being so calm, and that was something he normally was; but hearing her so calmly say she might kill poor little Mae was enough to make him wish violence on her. Still, he was not so evil that he'd hurt a woman. "Don't worry, I will show you the way." He was not about to let her go to the river alone. To easy for her to escape.

He debated on if he even owed her an reply about why he did not use her name. It wasn't just as an insult, even it had started off as one. He did not want to humanize her. Grow an attachment. Become soft around her. If he did then she would either get away or he would get her killed. He need to stay sharp and focused.

Insulting her, and annoying her were just rather large bonuses. He did not answer her name question, and just waited for her to get up so he could lead her to the river. He was willing to bet he did not need to explain what would happen if she tired to run. He knew she knew already, and wasn't going to repeat him self. He just silently walked beside her, or slightly ahead of her all the way to the river. He didn't just do it to annoy her, he was all to aware that water had been in his dream. Like the sounds of the river. He had to be on his guard, in case the men came . . .

[isadora]

Isadora rolled her eyes when he promised to show her the way; oh good, because she'd been worried she might have a moment to herself there. They couldn't have that, now could they? Isadora followed him to the river silently, aware that even if she did speak, he'd probably just ignore her anyways, or at least pretend to. She wasn't used to being ignored; when she spoke, she was used to people listening and responding promptly. She found she didn't like this at all, after spending only a day in his company, she was already tired of being ignored.

She knew he didn't like her; hatred was probably closer to the truth. The feeling was mutual, how could she be expected to like someone who had kidnapped her, and was holding her in some dark, scary woods against her will, claiming that he was the only thing protecting her from a premature death. She didn't care how justified he felt; she didn't deserve this, and he didn't know anything about her, no matter what he thought of her. And yet, she was so lonely. Isadora wasn't used to solitude, she was used to speaking to people almost constantly, and here, he wouldn't let her speak to anyone, and he wouldn't speak to her. It had only been a day, and she was already going crazy.

She stared at the back of his head as they walked, using one hand to hold her skirt up as they walked over the rugged terrain, the other carrying the empty bucket. It was heavy, even empty, heavier than anything she was used to carrying for an extended period of time. She didn't relish the thought of carrying it back, the rope already burning in her soft, uncalloused hand. She thought about hitting him over the head with the bucket, it would make a decent weapon, woudn't it? But then she discarded that thought; she doubted that she'd be able to knock him out, and then he'd just be angrier. She needed a better escape plan than that.

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[Alistair]

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The walk did him some good, as it helped him think clearer. His guard was up on high but the more the thought about it the more he knew the attack on her would not come this way. The visions were not clear, which meant there was time between them. Even still he wasn't going to leave her unprotected.

He did not care if the the tasks where to hard for her in her royal dress, he hoped it ruined it. With any luck tonight she'd be to tired to try to escape, and if he did get some sleep he would not have to worry about her attempting things. He thought about offering to get her some clothing better suited to her work but decided ageist it. She was the noble princess, let her dress the part.

He did not really wish to hold a conversation with her but he had to wonder, "Why do you hate my people so much, Princess?" He asked her, wondering what druids ever did to Gwent to bring on this reaction. He thought of Mae and wondered if the princess was evil enough to kill her or if she had just been saying that.

He had been to angry before, to think about truth and lie. Now that he could, he wondered if she had been lashing out. He hoped he never found out. He had only known the child a few days but she had way of making you fond of her, as all children did. Whatever noble ordered her death, would have him to deal with.

[isadora]

Already, she knew that this gown was ruined. Mud caked the hem and sleeves, with dirt and dust smeared over the rest. It had even been torn in a few places, probably while she was trying to run away, and there were water marks staining the delicate material. She'd probably order it burned when she finally returned home, for it certainly wouldn't be fit to be worn anywhere but on a jaunt through the woods.

She was surprised when he finally spoke. She frowned at his question...he didn't understand. Of course he didn't understand, he wasn't noble; how could he understand the responsibility she had, that she had to take care of her people? She'd meant it when she said she'd order a sweet little girl's head cut off, she'd order it a thousand times if it would keep her people safe, her own soul be damned for all time if that was what it took.

"I don't hate your people." She sighed, not sure how she could explain, if she even could. Or if she should. Did it really matter what he thought of her? "Have you ever loved something so much that you would do anything to keep it safe? No matter how monstrous those things might be?" Maybe that was the best way. He loved his people at least enough to kidnap her, but then, she wasn't sure he considered that monstrous. He probably thought he was some kind of hero.

"There's a woman who works for me, a maid. Her name is Anna and she's very beautiful, very kind, everyone who knows her loves her." She took a deep breath, she hated this part, hated having to tell it. "When she was sixteen, a man fell very deeply in love with her, but she didn't return his feelings. So he cast a spell on her to make her love him. He took her from her family and married her, and when they came to Caerleon, he was found using magic and executed. The spell broke, and Anna tried to forget, but she can't, and now she lives in fear of both men and magic, too ashamed to even return home." She bit her lip, she couldn't help but feel guilty when she thought of Anna; the girl who she should have protected, but couldn't. "I can't help her now, and when I should have, I didn't protect her. Magic is too dangerous to go unchecked, and I'm sorry that your people must suffer for it, but my people deserve to live without fear." People like Anna, who deserved to be protected, but weren't. Isadora owed them too much, she couldn't afford mercy.

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[Alistair]

]

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Have you ever loved something so much that you would do anything to keep it safe? No matter how monstrous those things might be? Here it came, some sodding story about her rich life and how horrid it was. Alistair waited for it but the one that came was different then explicated. Almost rational. He had expected a short answer along the lines of Because They Are Evil, with not reasoning or caring behind it. He could have dealt with her princess views of the world . . . this one was unexpected.

Still it annoyed him, and as he was already angry his words came out bitter and harsh. "Your people live in fear?" He asked slowly, "YOUR people live in fear? Princess, do you want to know my last memory of my mother?" He stopped walking and turned to look at her. "It was her being dragged from our by the king's men to be executed." His eyes bore into her's as he spoke, "Her screams of the last thing I heard of her, and my father who was unable it sit by and watch his wife murdered, tried to help her. He died with her that day, almost 20 years ago. They were not evil, Princess. We are farmers, lived in a peaceful druid town. But because -ALL- magic had to erased she was to be killed."

It was the most he had said in a long time, "YOUR people live in fear, Pprriinncceessss?" he drug out the insult of her title. "Mae's last memory of her mother, could be along the same lines, and if you had your way it could be how little Mae's last moments on this earth is spent. Mae is not evil. These people are NOT evil. Because a few druids misuse the gifts they are given we should all be hunted and killed?"

"You said if Mae turned her back on who she was, she could be spared. What if she could not, Princess? Some of us, can not control it. Magic is apart of us. Controls us even. What of them?" Of him. "Should we be slaughtered like animals so your people can sleep a little better?"

[isadora]

Isadora stopped when he did, taking an involuntary step backwards at the rage in his voice. It was time like this when she was truly afraid of him, afraid that his feelings might cloud rational thought and he just might kill her. But when he told her of his mother, her expression changed, to one of sympathy rather than fear; at least now she knew why he hated her, even if it was irrational. She didn't want to eradicate the practitioners of magic, she just wanted her people to be safe. She thought that if magic users would turn their back on it, choose not to use magic, then they could live. Because she'd always been told it was a choice, they chose to do magic, they chose evil, so they could choose something else too.

"I'm sorry about your mother...believe I'm lying if you wish, but I am." Isadora's mother died when she was young too, so she understood the pain of losing a parent, if not the exact circumstances. Queen Isobel had died of consumption, and had spent her last days with Isadora tucked up in bed with her, reading her stories and playing games, smiling as she coughed up blood, assuring her daughter that everything would be all right. It wasn't the same thing, and Isadora knew it, even as he questioned how her people had to live in fear.

Magic...was not evil? Riiight. She had never met someone who chose magic that was good; at the convent, they said such people didn't exist. She still wanted to offer them the chance to change, but no one ever took her up on her offer. Was it true that they couldn't choose not to use magic? It was...possible. "That's...not true. Magic only exists out of a pact between man and Satan, an agreement to do evil on His behalf."

She frowned, that was what she'd always been taught; it had been drilled into her at the convent, she'd been forced to read and recite prayers and scripture morning, noon and night, all of it concerning how the old religions were wrong and Christianity was right. She'd believed it all her life, how could she just suddenly change her mind because some druid told her something different? No, he was wrong, he was lying. He had to be...didn't he?

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[Alistair]

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When she spoke of being sorry about his mother he stared at her a moment before shaking his head slowly. Not at her however, at him self. He was an idiot here, because with a few soft words and an apoplectic look his anger was almost gone. He still thought her a petty princess but he believed her. When she questioned his comments on not be able to control the magic he just stood there for a moment looking at her pretty face.

After a moment he took a slow step forward and slowly took the bucket from her, and called him self an idiot for it. Ugh! He then turned to keep walking to the river, but keep and ear on her steps to make sure she keep up with him and not bolted the other way. "Princess," he spoke in a calmer tone and even used her title in a tone that did not suggest and insult because--ugh--she had shown kindness to the druid man that was bullying her. "My mother was like me, I got my gifts from her. She did not ask for it anymore then I."

"She would see things in her dreams. Things that had not happened yet. If a neighbor was going to get sick and die--she knew. If the king was going to start a war and hunt druids down--she knew. When she warned others this would happen, they came for her. Killed her. I see the same death dreams. Every night I see someone die." He left off the fact that they did not away die, at times he did save then or help them save themselves. He also did not tell her that he was dreaming of her. He paused walking and looked back at her, "If this is from a deal with the devil, I hate to see what the son of a bitch got in return." With that he turned and keep walking.

[isadora]

Her muscles tensed as he stepped towards her, but she managed not to flee. She didn't know if he was planning on hurting her, but she was quite surprised when he took the bucket from her, and a little confused. Mere seconds before, she'd been worried what his anger would make him do; now he didn't seem angry at all, as though her simple apology had actually meant something to him. It took her a moment to start following again after he took the bucket, but not before glancing at the trees quickly; could she get away? Of course the answer was still no. She'd wait a little longer before her next escape attempt, wait until he wasn't tensed for it.

As he spoke, she didn't want to believe him. If he were evil, of course he'd lie, right? And besides, he had kidnapped her! That alone was hurting his case for why he and his people were so good; how could someone stand by while a defenseless woman was tied up and held against her will, and continue to claim they weren't evil? But good and evil weren't so black and white, as she well knew; she could be cold and callous at times, yet she didn't consider herself evil, just human.

When he spoke of his dreams, she believed him; she'd heard him talking in the middle of the night, after all. She frowned, not sure what to say, or even what to believe. She'd never considered that people didn't choose to have magic, that it was as much something they were born with as she had been born a princess instead of a milkmaid. She didn't know if she could trust him, in fact, she was fairly certain that was a bad idea, but why would he lie? To garner sympathy, of course, but how sympathetic to his cause did he expect a kidnapped princess to be? [/blockuote]

[Alistair]

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Thank the stars she was silent, he thought as they walked to the river. Once there, he gave the banks a once over, to make sure there was not danger to them before dipping the bucket into the water. Once it was full he sat it down on the bank and then he began to smile. This would disturb the pretty princess.

She might have hit a soft spot with him, with his mother but he wasn't going to let her off the hook. Pulling his dagger from his boot, he turned to her. "Don't scream." He warned her, before coming up next to her and grabbing some of her skirt. He knew she'd fight fight, and would be shocked to hie toes if she didn't. Still, he was quick. He put off a inch of fabric from part of the bottom of her dress. Enough that she could stay covered but also giving him what he wanted.

Backing away, before she could try to hit him again, he walked over to the bucket. Wrapping the soft fabric around the thick and rough rope of the bucket he made it were she could carry it, with out the rope giving her a burn. Her arms would be aching, but oh well. Her soft skin would be protected. He still wasn't sure why he cared . . . ..

[isadora]

Following him to the river's edge, Isadora crouched down as he filled the bucket, cupping her hands together to scoop up some of the cold, clear water for a drink. When she'd sated her thirst, she splashed some water on her face, grateful for the chance to wash up. Glancing up as Alistair approached her, she caught the smile on his face and couldn't help but be slightly afraid; she had yet to see him smile over anything, so she could only assume that he didn't have anything good in mind. "What are you doing?"

Trying to back away from him, she just wound up falling backward onto the riverbank, only more unsettled when he told her not to scream, right before she saw the knife in his hand, her eyes widening with fear. He was insane! Insane, and he was going to kill her now! She kicked at him, even as he grabbed the hem of her skirt, pulling it taut. "Get away from me!" She cried in alarm, not quite screaming, because she didn't think that screaming for help would get her anywhere, but she wasn't about to sit back and just let him...cut her dress?

Taking the strip of fabric he'd cut off her already-ruined dress, he backed off, and she got to her feet hurriedly, glaring at him and wondering what he was up to. If he was just taking a souvenir...well, that would be creepy. She watched him wrap the cloth around the handle of the bucket, and as she realized what he was doing, her expression softened. She considered telling him that it might've gone better if he'd just asked, but somehow, she didn't think that would end well. "...Thank you?"

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[Alistair]

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He did not say a word to her. He just stood up after fixing the bucket for her and watched her. He knew she'd understand what he was waiting for and it wasn't a thank you. He wanted her to work. Carry the bucket back to camp and began washing the clothes and things before they had to make this trip two more times today. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to come get the bucket.

He wondered if she had at lest thought about refusing to do it. He knew he could not force her to carry the bucket, but he could toss her over his shoulder, carry her back and leave her hog tired for a few days. Besides, with the insights he learned today about her, new ideas were forming. Ones that he hoped would protect Mae (as well as other druids) int he future.

If she made him be mean to her, then his plans would fail. He knew Mae would have to play a part in his plan but how to make her do it with out giving her details or alarming the little girl's father. Mae was a druid, and could use magic with spells unlike Alistair who needed no spells but had no control over what he saw. Mae would be the key, with her wide eyes and innocence. "We will stop when you need to, to rest your arms but don't make it to often. Other chores are waiting, Princess;" He told her.

[isadora]

She looked at him with wary confusion as she picked her way up the riverbank to where he had set down the full bucket, she didn't understand him. She'd met cruel men before and she'd met kind men, but his varying moods and attitudes towards her was just confusing. She didn't know how to react, wasn't sure how to act or what to do. So she just made her way over to the bucket, picking it up gingerly with both hands. It was heavy, heavier than anything she'd ever had to carry before, but she wasn't going to give up that easily. She tried to hold it without spilling any water, steadying herself before she started walking back towards the camp.

"You are a very, very strange man." She told him as she walked past him. She didn't understand him, one minute he was yelling at her, and she feared for her life, the next he was showing her kindness, even as he forced her into hard labor that she would never have experienced otherwise. He didn't make any sense! She'd never met anyone like him before, that was for sure.

It was slower, trying to heft the bucket over the rough terrain without spilling any --or at least, without spilling too much-- and it was more exhausting than simply walking. She had to stop more often than she thought Alistair would like, but she tried to keep her breaks brief, trying to rub some feeling back into her arms while she heaved for breath against the trunk of a tree. Then she would pick up the bucket again with arms that felt like jelly, and start off again. She couldn't imagine how a child would do this, but now she knew why Alistair was making her do it; maybe he figured if he worked her like this every day, she wouldn't have the energy to try and escape...and he might be right.

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[Alistair]

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When she walked pasted him, he grinned again at her comment. Most people were more normal then him. Years of being alone had really hurt his people skills but he didn't care. He might not be used to being around people but he never felt uncomfortable alone. Some people craved others, Alistair felt at ease with others but more without others. There were a few people he wanted around more then others. None of them women.

He followed her as she walked and did not say a word as she took a break ever few feet, or yards. He had known this would take four times longer then the walk there. Still he was not used to traveling this slow or not having anything do. He thought about just doing it for her, as it slightly bothered him to watch a woman struggle when he could help her, but knew it would teach her nothing.

So he did his best not to appear like he was hurrying her and just walked along beside her until they reached camp. Once there, he finally took the bucket from her. "Time to do the wash." He told her as she carried the bucket the last few feet to where the clothes would be washed. After sitting the bucket down he used his hands to take a cool drink before looking up at her. "You can rest a moment first."

[isadora]

When they finally made it back to camp and Alistair took the water bucket from her, Isadora wasted no time in collapsing to the ground, her arms and legs so sore and tired she thought they might fall off. Sitting down, she wiped the sheen of perspiration from her brow, trying to catch her breath. She'd only made the trip once and she was exhausted; it seemed like far too much work to do every day, for such a small amount of water, no less. She wondered how people could possibly live like this, and looking around, she had her answer. They lived like this out of desperation.

"It's a hard life." She observed, not complaining; she only had to live like this for a few days, and then she'd be home again, whereas this was life for these people. She didn't know if she should feel sympathy for their plight, or turn her nose up and tell him that sometimes you had to do what you had to do in order to survive. Her life wasn't difficult like this, she had her own trials and challenges to deal with, but physical labor had never been a part of her life before today. That was for other people to deal with.

Once she'd caught her breath, she stood up again, dusting her skirt off fruitlessly, looking at him resignedly. "All right, what do you want me to do?" If he thought she knew how to do laundry, he was wrong. Washing clothes? Why on Earth would a princess ever need to do anything like that for herself? No, she paid people to do menial tasks like that, so she could focus on other things. Not that she thought he'd understand that. She already felt dead tired, but she had a feeling Alistair wasn't going to care about that.

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