46 Strength and weakness, part 1
Ginevra woke up surrounded by smells of blood and death. The battlefield was there, and whispers called her to Hell. She fought against the cotton fog in her head, tried to move her limbs and tear free, but for naught. The voices took her into their land…
The land of nightmares.
There she was a girl again. Weak, helpless, unworthy of her idol, of her father. The time when she accepted her punishments with fear and gratitude, for they would make her better. Stronger. Give her his love.
These thoughts weren't the worst part of the dream. Because sometimes, Ginevra was tempted to return to them. Tempted to become this girl again, when things were simple and her purpose was higher than carrying someone's orders.
When the nightmare finally let Ginevra go, she felt well enough to understand her circumstances. She was in a military tent—but it wasn't her own. Her limbs were bound to a folding cot, and a piece of cool metal touched her neck. Her body ached and felt leaden, but most importantly…
She was still alive.
Ginevra chuckled. Tried to, at least—but the only thing that came out was a raspy cough. She was so thirsty. Her eyes spotted a jug and a metal cup near the bed, but she couldn't even lift her limbs to reach it.
Was it her first torture? It was a good one.
The flap that covered the tent's entrance lifted. A soldier's head peeked in, gave Ginevra a suspicious glare, then disappeared.
Several minutes later, the flap lifted again, letting two people enter—a nondescript man in his forties, wearing a healer's wrap, and Cael Oliveira.
He looked nothing like the last two times Ginevra saw him. Dressed not in night clothes and not in a layer of blood, but in a simple travel suit. Washed and clean-shaved, with only his short black hair still sticking in every direction.
Ginevra liked the way it looked at him—a worthless, feminine opinion.
There also was a new hardness in Cael's green eyes. Not the stubbornness when he first defied her, nor the crazed battle madness of their last fight. Just a glint of steel.
There was no anger, no resentment—only a thin veil of something sorrowful. This, Ginevra didn't understand most of all.
The healer, with no other command but Cael's wordless nod necessary, came to Ginevra's bed and leaned over her. Knowing that she needed to be healthy to escape, she waited patiently for him to change her bandages and examine her wounds and clenched her teeth at his rough movements.
"She's healing fine, signore Oliveira," the healer concluded. "There's no fever, either. Very lucky, considering the sheer amount of lacerations on her body. She won't get up for at least two more days. I doubt she'll stomach solid food, either."
Cael nodded. "If that's all, you may go."
The healer didn't hesitate to leave. When he did, Cael approached Ginevra's bed.
She forcefully relaxed her body, muscle by muscle, until there was nothing that showed her fear of him.
Even if she WAS afraid. Only fools knew no fear. Ginevra saw what Cael could do yesterday. This was not a man's power, and she could only imagine what Cael could do to her with it, now that she had no power to resist.
And even without it, there were many ways to torment a prisoner. Especially a woman—not that men were safe from this. Ginevra knew of many who suffered this fate and avoided it herself only because she was never helpless near those who could wish it on her.
Until today.
"How the tables have turned, huh?" Cael said. "But now I don't want to even slap you."
Ginevra narrowed her eyes.
"Why?" she rasped out.
He shrugged. "I don't know. But, right… You must be thirsty, I'm sure." Cael leaned for the jug and poured the cup near it with water. With the cup in hand, Cael kneeled next to Ginevra and put the water near her lips.
She lifted her head, drinking greedily. The cup was done in an instant. "More."
Cael wordlessly obliged.
Only after the third cup, Ginevra reined herself in. She was just showing Cael her weaknesses. Though, she supposed, water was anyone's weakness, anyway.
"This is weird," Cael admitted, still not raising to his full height. "Father says we should just torture you for information, then use you to prevent next Enzo's attack. But I disagree. Those marks on your back… If Enzo did this to you, why won't he leave you to die?"
Ginevra flinched, and whatever blood was still left in her body moved away from her face.
'Of course he would see them. Someone took off your clothes and dressed your wounds!' she chastised herself. 'From there, it was a simple guess.'
"If Enzo did this to you," Cael continued, "why were you still fighting for him?"
Ginevra snarled, jerking in her bounds. Weakly, because her body couldn't muster much strength yet.
"And why would you care for my answer at all?" she hissed. "Why would you understand it if I answer?"
Cael pressed his lips together. "It just feels like a shame for someone as powerful as you to be under anyone's heel, Ginevra. When we fought yesterday… You were a force of nature. A hurricane or a wildfire. It's simply WRONG for those to be trapped this way."
Ginevra smirked. "You say so, and it's you who trapped me now. A hypocrite."
"Yeah, and as soon as I take off your ropes and your collar, you will blast half of the camp into smithereens and run away." Cael snorted. "Look, I might feel merciful to you, but I don't feel stupid. Your beauty only melts half my brain, not all of it."
Ginevra wished her brain matter was more obedient. Her heart stuttered.
So she was beautiful. She knew it. Why did this sound so different now? Why did it feel so much more important?
Cael used a cantrip to refill the water jug and stood up. "I will come again soon. We have a lot of time to talk now."
You thought you were reading ML, but it was FL ALL ALONG!!!
(lol joking. But I've decided to write these chapters from Gin's perspective so you would see her as more than a piece of meat :P i know you, my horny readers. dw, there will be some smut in the visible future. i'd say when, but I didn't write that far by the moment when I write this note)
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