Author's Note: Short chapter, and a big non-consent warning. Skip this part if that's not up your alley, the storyline will fill you in later.
Three
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Hilde awoke atop the cold wooden floor of her room in Villjord, feeling a barely-perceptible roll as it crashed against the waves.
She shot up, placing her hands on the ground. She soon remembered where she was -- on a reaver vessel full of rapists and murderers, instead of Villjord -- and frowned, trying once more to rip the cold collar from her neck with two weak tugs. She would have wept, then, had she any more left to give, so she instead slid across the ground to a bowl of water, picking it up to drain it of its lukewarm contents.
She wondered if her friend, Evette, had been killed in the attack or had been taken aboard one of the reaver vessels. If it was the latter, Hilde would need to find out before she made her escape. Once she figured out how to do that, any way.
Initial needs of the morning had not been met, and Hilde scanned her isolated, rocking room for a chamber pot she would not find. Sighing silently, she instead crept over to the door.
It swung open as soon as she had arrived, a fist immediately meeting her face.
"Knees, slave!" the man commanded sternly. Not that Hilde had a choice, having been forced into the position by his knuckles. She stared towards the floor despondently.
"Kjartan wants to see you," he said monotonously. Hilde thought of what that command required of her, but the young sorceress was feeling delirious and had forgotten. She was smacked again.
"Leash!" he demanded, pointing beside her.
Hilde crawled on her hands and knees towards the corner of the room, hastily grabbing the thick chain from the floor and fastening it to her own collar. Satisfied it was affixed, she turned to the man at the door and remained on her knees. Another backhand smack across her face, her cheek thumping with righteous fury.
"You will offer the leash to me, slave."
Hilde picked it up and did so, shaking uncontrollably as she lifted her arm. She hadn't eaten in a day and was feeling it, although this fact was far from her mind. She was led, on all fours, up a small staircase and onto the deck of the vessel, across the eyes of three dozen brutish men. They dared not spit or smack her, lest they incur the wrath of the Wanderer, but they did jeer. And laugh. Hilde flushed from the humiliation, realizing her womanhood was obscenely displayed to each of them. The world's fastest fall from grace.
The man opened the door to the aft quarters, where Kjartan stayed. The room was far warmer than the rest of the ship, and Hilde almost felt comfortable for a second. "Wanderer. I have the new mage, as requested," he said, tugging on the chain. Hilde crawled forward into the room, noticing Kjartan was with his two other favorites beside his bed, both marked with the same crossed axes that Hilde now bore on her left cheek.
"Good. You should call her Three from now on, Sigurd."
The man nodded. "She does look a Three, Wanderer," he agreed without emotion.
Kjartan rose from the bed slowly, wearing only his trousers and a ferocious grin. The man holding Hilde's collar smirked, then offered the chain to Kjartan as he neared. After the hand-off, Sigurd bowed once and left the room.
Kjartan led Hilde to the center of the room, then knelt before her to unclasp the chain from her collar.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, sky blue eyes boring through her own.
Hilde most certainly did not, but she nodded meekly in silent response. She knew not to speak. Hilde had to look away, and found the floor a decent enough sight.
"I'd like you to meet your new best friends," he said, holding her jaw with a strong grip to force her to look up. He pointed to a long-haired brunette, a trim girl with bruised eyes. "That's One. You might remember her from the town."
Hilde squinted with anger, recalling the abjuration sorceress who had protected Kjartan from her fireballs. Hilde's head was then forcibly tilted to the side towards a red-head. "And that's Two." Two nodded with a mischevious smile, though Hilde was unsure why. Two had no bruising on her that Hilde was aware of, proving her undeniable servitude to her masters. Hilde's head was then forced to another corner of the room, spying three bowls laid side-to-side.
"And that's your breakfast. Is there anything else you require?" he asked, Hilde taken aback by the ask. She nodded, looking into his eyes. "You may speak."
"I need to... pee," Hilde muttered under her breath. Kjartan bellowed with laughter.
"That should be done in your quarters, Three. But you may use the chamber pot," he said, pointing to a corner of the room with a grin. And so she did, crawling over to it and squatting atop it, Kjartan glaring at her for the entire performance. Her cheeks reddened, and wondered why she still had any modestly left at all.
Once finished, he curled a finger towards himself, beckoning Hilde to come. She crawled to him on all fours, slowly, so very slowly. Her arms shook, and she did not know what the man would ask of her.
