So much had happened. So much has changed. It's hard to find your way back to where you once were when you've been caught in the dark for so long. Your instinct takes over and almost all of who you are is pushed aside so that your primal nature can guide you out into the light. You do things you would never have done. The problem is not in finding one's way out of the darkness, but finding one's way back to yourself - to find that part of you that was pushed aside for the sake of survival.
Riyarra stared blankly at the trees and bushes of the tall forest that passed by as these thoughts preoccupied her. Sunlight drifted in between the leaves and brought out the colors of the world. It had been three days since their escape from the clutches of the Zecarin, yet she was still brooding and trying to reconcile that terrible time. The joy of being free again was short lived. Her future was now before her and she couldn't shake off the horrors of her imprisonment.
Her eyes drifted to her hands as they lay folded in her lap, and the brown slave's dress that covered her, but left her legs bare at the thighs. She was Eltharian, a Light Elf. Her pale skin was gaining more color now that she was in the sun again. Her long blonde hair picked up in the occasional breeze, and her emerald eyes were wide to the world around her. She rode passenger atop a strider, a large subterranean lizard twice the size of a horse. They were fast mounts, capable of great bursts of speed, but they weren't endurance runners. There was no need for them to run anyway; they weren't being pursued. So the trip home had become a long leisurely stroll through the woods.
Surrounding her on both sides were the two large muscular arms of her escort and protector. The man she came to call Mule. He was holding onto the reigns of the mount and guiding the animal when needed. Dressed in a black leather vest that showed off his powerful arms, he sat behind her in the saddle. His presence was just as restricting as his current embrace. Whenever she looked at him the memories of the times they shared came to mind. The cruelty he committed on her at the order of their captives, the vicious killings he perpetrated, the forced lovemaking. Yet despite his see-sawing loyalties, he had remained true to his word and they were now free, but it was a hard earned freedom.
"Mule?" She said, her voice suddenly breaking the hours of long silence between them since morning. That was how their travels had gone. He kept his distance until she wanted to talk and never intruded otherwise. It was a comforting change from his smug bravado during their escape. She still needed time to sort her thoughts, especially about him, and heal her mind from the torture of her capture.
"Princess?" Mule replied. The tone in his voice was... professional, she decided. It reminded her of the way servants and body guards would address her when she was younger, distant and respectful. Never getting too close, and never being far away. That too was a subtle change in him.
"If my brother promised me as your prize, why did you never... take me, unless ordered to?" She was referring to the times the Zecarins forced him to humiliate her. It was something that troubled her because she needed to know his intentions. The humiliation stung at the time, but she had weathered it.
"Hmm." Mule responded. It was his typical way of letting her know he understood her question, but didn't have an answer yet. Sometimes he would think for a long time before answering. Sometimes he never answered. This particular question she had been saving until she was ready to talk about it, she needed to be ready to handle the answer. "Making love with a princess is hardly different from mating with a high lady or peasant. A body is just as warm and inviting as any other in the bed. Some are more shapely, some are more womanly, some have more talents... A princess's value isn't in bedding her, despite what most common men might think. That, in fact, can ruin her value. A princess's value is in her honor, and it must remain intact."
"You believe I have that?" His words had touched her. It was more caring than she had expected. The rough exterior of this seasoned warrior had somewhat melted in the last few days. It was yet another side to this mysterious man that she didn't know was there. Her own doubts, however, didn't agree with his words.
"Yes." Mule responded quickly. "You did what you had to do to survive. A soldier has the luxury of dieing. A peasant has the luxury of selling herself. But a Princess must survive, and be a symbol for her people."
"I was a soldier."
"You were a princess first. And if your brother has his way, your people will need you as their princess more than ever." Riyarra digested his words. It was medicine she needed to hear. Her emotions were plagued, but her mind had never faltered during her capture and torture; they never broke her. And slowly she was beginning to see that – despite all she suffered, she had indeed beaten them and endured. She placed a hand on his arm.
"Thank you." She said and resumed her brooding. Riyarra took in a deep, calming breath and let the smells of the forest fill her nostrils. It put her mind and heart at ease as the troubling question was finally laid to rest. It gave her strength. The strength she needed to ask the next troubling question.
"Am I now your captive?" she asked in a teasing manner. A bit of her humor returned to her after Mule's kind words.
Mule snorted.
"Then what is it you plan to do with me?" She leaned back and her head rested on her bodyguard's shoulder. Her cheek nuzzled against his chest and she smelled the musky scent the rugged man gave off. But her subtle teasing wasn't being received. As she stared at his bare, corded arm she thought about all he had just said, and she realized her error. She was reverting to those instincts of survival again. "I'm sorry." She said formally and straightened her posture in the saddle.
"You don't need to apologize, but I accept it none the less." Mule said comfortingly. He had been coaching her into finding her way back to her old self. "It will take some time to get over all we've been through." Riyarra nodded in agreement. She preoccupied herself with the scenery and resumed her posture. It was a long quiet ride after that.
"Do humans find Eltharians attractive?" Her question was earnest.
"Now I see." Mule said, as her inquiry finally came to its true purpose. It would seem that Riyarra had some insecurities about his past reluctance to take her when ordered to by their captors. He paused and cleared his throat. "Stories are passed around our taverns and hearths of rich and powerful Lords and Knights bewitched by Eltharian beauty. They gave up wealth, property, and duty to pursue the dream that ruined them."
"Why did it ruin them?" She sounded sad.
"Who knows for sure. Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it didn't ruin them, maybe they found the love they chased after. But in the stories, they're usually never heard from again."
"Are disruptors capable of loving like that? Or do they take it away in your training?" Her tone had grown slightly cold. Her own experiences gave her the answer she didn't want to accept; Mule was a disruptor, a kind of elite mercenary, and capable of cold cruelty. Something as pure as love was likely beyond him now.
"We can imitate it very well." He said after careful thought. Riyarra looked up to the trees and hid the tears that started to collect in her eyes. She cried for Mule. It was a terrible price to pay for so much power.
Riyarra scowled. That thought didn't sit right with her. Her intuition told her not to believe him. Maybe she just didn't want to believe him. An ache formed in her chest, and she brought a hand to her breast and felt her heartbeat. He had done so much for her that showed that, even to some small extent, he cared about her well being. That was enough to ease her concern, she could work with that. Perhaps she could return to him the feelings he lost. Maybe she could do more...
Her head leaned backwards onto the chest of the brave man that had saved her and sighed deeply. Her heart and mind were still a chaos of emotions and paranoia. She tilted her head to one side and pressed her long elfin ear to his chest. His heart beat strongly through the flesh and fabric. She listened to it, and took strength from her savior.
Her hand went to his chest, and it felt his pulse more directly. She felt comfortable against him. Her fingers went to his cheek, and felt the rough whiskers that had grown from his chin. If he could teach her to find herself again, she would try to teach him to love again. Propriety had its place, but out here in the wild, she could be free for a bit longer. He seemed to sense her feelings, and his dark brown eyes drifted down to meet her stark emerald ones. He held her gaze and didn't flinch, as her fingers stroked his cheek. Her mind raced of how to broach it with him. She wanted to feel passion with him again, like they did in the slave quarters of Zecair. She wanted to see for herself if it had all been just an act.